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ka-za-ri · 4 years

Text

Descent Pt. 2

Masterlist of other Chapters: Here Crossposted to Ao3: here

Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

I’m so glad y’all are enjoying the food so far, please take some more of it. Let me know if you want to be added to a taglist or anything like that. For now, let’s enjoy our favorite angel doing ... not very angelic things (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Pairing: Simeon x Reader Wordcount: 5,000 ish Genre: Luxurious Smut Tags: Voyeurism, mutual masturbation Summary: With the first chapter behind him, there's still something missing in Simeon's writing, and he needs your help to figure out what it is.

Stumble

True to his word, Simeon had the draft he promised in your email inbox within a few days. You were surprised. He seemed to be struggling so much when you last saw him, you really expected him to take a little more time. Regardless, it was to your benefit since it meant you had more time to edit.

Even if it was just the first chapter and a little bit after, you were surprised at the speed in which he jumped to the lewd scenes. It wasn’t surprising considering sex was the focus, but you would need to teach him how to reign in his enthusiasm. By the time you were finished reading through the draft the first time, your whole face had gone hot. The explicit details he wrote out only brought your mind back to what you had acted out in that sunroom just a few days ago. It was a direct translation of your actions to text. Sure, Simeon was new to the genre, but his talent as a writer still shone through.

Despite the roughness of the draft, the publisher approved it as acceptable proof of progress. They greenlit the whole project and you were more than excited to email Simeon and let him know the good news. Just as you had come back from the meeting with the executives, your phone chirped with a new message.

[SMS: I AM STUCK. I CANNOT WRITE ANYMORE. HELP ME.]

You laughed at how short and crude the message was. For someone who spent most of his time on a computer writing; he was absolutely hopeless with any other form of technology. Shaking your head at how someone like him had gotten so far in life barely knowing how to send a text, you packed up your things and made your way to his place. You did have a few notes about his first chapter to give him, anyway.

Simeon hated being deceptive. He hated how quickly he had started to rely on that image of you in his brightly lit sunroom to fuel his writing and for his own desires. He was ashamed to ask you to come over again; but he was repeating the same motions in his writing, he needed new visuals and you were the only one he could trust. In reality, his request was a thinly veiled request to see you perform again. He was able to complete his work so quickly after watching you. Researching video clips and online articles gave him some fuel, but nothing got him so fired up as watching a scene unfold from you.

It was a strange obsession he was still wrapping his mind around. He had to be careful, the temptation you possessed was absolutely dangerous. Simeon had to reassure himself that he was ancient and knew his way around humans with how long he had studied them. He needed to convince himself that he would never sully a human body, no matter how much he wanted you. His title, status and reputation as an angel were the most sacred parts of him. With so many years of writing experience, surely he could write a proper sex scene without actually ever having to fuck you.

It didn’t stop him from being nervous. No matter how many fail safes he came up with, he knew that you were effortlessly enticing him to be joined with you. He had to be vigilant. It would be the ultimate test of his will and his determination. Both for his career and his soul. He would see it through, he knew he could. No material experience could be more important than his angelic status. Right?

He paced back and forth in the foyer of his home, gnawing on his nail while he waited for you to arrive. It had taken him half an hour to find the right words to text you. Simeon glanced at the phone in his hand almost every ten seconds, hoping you had replied. He knew you had a meeting, but it should be over by now and you should be arriving at any moment. You hadn’t answered him which made him antsy. Usually you would have at least told him you were coming over. He could only hope that you were just eager to see him as he was to see you again.

He didn’t want to admit how he had fallen asleep with his hands down his pants the past three days, dreaming about your sweet voice as you came and called out to him. He didn’t want to think about how many positions he had imagined you being in. Simeon didn’t want to dwell on how many scenarios he came up with just to have you reenact them for him. Some of the scenes delved so deep into his darkest desires that he was scared to even admit he thought about them.

But he wanted to see them play out.

The doorbell barely finished ringing and he was already flinging opening the door to let you in. “I’m guessing the meeting went well.” He said with a bright smile to hide his nerves. He was already set up in his sunroom. During the time you were gone, he had brought a small folding desk to the recliner. The cable for his computer had also been moved so he didn’t have to worry about the battery being drained. You instinctively went over to the couch lined up against the wall but he stopped you. Instead of letting you lounge like you did the last time, he offered you a chair across from his makeshift desk instead. He refused to make eye contact as you made yourself comfortable.

“The meeting went as well as it could,” you said while taking out the envelopes that contained his work. “They like everything so far, but it’s still rough and needs a little bit more refinement, and I have to agree with them.”

You glanced up at him and noticed him fidgeting with his fingers while he kept his face calm. “So, what needs to be fixed up?”

You flipped through a few pages and showed him the paragraphs of smut he had written. The color drained from his face as he was face-to-face with the obscenity of his work in physical form. “So, it’s not bad. But I can tell it was your first time. There’s something missing about the partner. I can’t place it, but it just feels… flat? Like I can’t tell if they’re feeling anything from the exchange or what.”

“Ah… Oh… Hahaha. I see… That explains a lot.”

You raised a curious eyebrow at his comment. “Does it?” You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back in the chair. It seemed as though Simeon was just at the verge of another great discovery about his writing and you were rather intrigued about what his thoughts were.

“Yes. I was struggling to write this next scene and I just… couldn’t figure out how to convey the partner’s feelings. It’s frustrating. I should have all the resources that I need to make it work.” He gestured at what he had written and bade you to take a look.

It was always fun to see his work in progress. With the partially polished scenes and unfinished sentences, it was like you got to see the inner workings of his brain. What he had in front of you was a far cry from the more polished work you were used to, but the overall flow of action was much better than the travesty you had seen last time. However, you could see the exact point where he started to struggle. As he said, there was a lack of feeling behind the words.

“Ooh… So this is the part where you need my help again, huh?”

Simeon covered his face with his hand. “I’m ashamed to ask you to assist me with another scene.”

You smiled softly, reaching over and ruffling his hair. “Well, I’d be the world’s worst editor and manager if I refused to help you, right?”

“You don’t have to…”

“But I want to.” You reassured him, while getting up from your seat to start stripping. Truth be told, you were waiting for the next time you got to see him so hot and bothered while working. Something about how focused he was on writing and not what his body needed made you want to push him further, see just what it took to get him distracted. “But you know… I’m sure you’d get more out of it if you experienced it too. Sometimes, just watching isn’t enough.”

Simeon felt his heart drop to his stomach from your suggestion. You were putting into words all of his desires and what he had craved ever since the last time. If he didn't have his wits about him, he knew he would have taken you up on the offer. The temptation of knowing how it felt to be in you while you moaned had piqued his curiosity and he longed to experience it. “I… Uh,” he stuttered, trying to wrap his mind around how to reply.

You dragged your finger up his thigh, pausing right at his crotch and waited for his reaction. He was so cute with his eyes wide, lips slightly parted and his brain short circuiting from your advances. You wanted to devour him and see him crumble under your fingers. “You what?” You encouraged, moving the focus from his crotch upwards, your finger skirting the soft sweater he wore and up to his chin. You tilted his head upwards to meet you eye to eye. “You want to write the best novel… don’t you?”

“I do…” He breathed, unable to take his eyes away from you and his mind struggled to keep up with how quickly you had taken control of the situation. He needed to wrestle some semblance of calm back in his favor if he wanted to continue getting what he wanted without you suspecting his obsession. “In order for me to do that, I need you to show me how…” He trailed off, cheeks flushed warm from thinking about his lewd request.

“How what? Come on now, you asked me to fuck a pillow last time, how is this going to be any worse than that?” you teased. Much to your delight, he became more flustered, his gaze dropping to the floor and he mumbled to himself. You let him get over his shyness, waiting patiently with his chin balanced at the tip of your finger.

Please uhm… Please show me how you please yourself… for this next scene.” He managed to save himself from falling completely into your trap, specifying exactly what he needed you to do. You were so alluring and so close to him, he had almost asked for the unforgivable.

You smiled, letting go of his chin and stepping back. “It’d be so much easier if I had some toys to do that… but I guess I’ll show you since you asked so nicely.” You planted a kiss on his forehead before undoing the buttons of your blouse.

“T-toys?” Simeon squeaked. He had seen them in video clips and read about them in reviews when he researched; but it never occurred to him that you might want to use them.

“It’s okay if you don’t have any. I can always settle with this…” You teased, walking over to him and fondling his crotch. “In fact, I would prefer this over anything else.”

You were close enough to see his pupils dilate and notice how his breath hitched as you touched him. He pulled away from you, hiding behind his screen and pretended to be busy with opening a new document. “I… I need to write.”

“But that’s the problem…” you whined, pouting that he pulled away but you didn’t press the issue any further. Watching him squirm was so satisfying; and you hadn’t even done anything yet. “You were writing the last time and you had the same problem, so stop writing this time and get into it.” You suggested.

“I can’t.” he shook his head vehemently. “I can’t do it. No.”

You sighed, putting your hands on your hips and looked at him. You never pegged him to be the kind of guy who waited until marriage to be intimate, but it seemed like he was alluding to the fact that he was saving himself. If he wasn’t, he was at least being very reserved for the type of content he was writing. “Fine, we don’t have to do it,” you conceded before going back to stripping yourself bare. “But feel free to help yourself to whatever you need for inspiration.” You winked, looking down at his crotch and he hastily crossed his legs when your gaze lingered.

He was so cute. You couldn’t tell if he knew exactly what he was doing. It was hard to expect someone so beautiful and of his age to not get intimate when the chance arose. Part of you wondered if it was because you weren’t desirable to him outside of your little acts. Dwelling on that thought made your chest hurt in bitterness and you shoved that to the side to focus on helping him instead.

You flopped back down on the chair, spreading your legs and resting them on the arms of the chair so that Simeon had a clear view of what you were about to do to yourself. Having him watch everything you did so close to you aroused much faster than you expected. “Well, time to get to work.” you said nonchalantly.

You closed your eyes, imagining Simeon joining you in getting nude. You imagined what it would be like for him to reveal his skin a little at a time in a playful strip tease. He always wore such bulky and cozy looking sweaters, it made you wonder just what kind of body he was hiding underneath all the layers. You started at your breasts again, squeezing them together and playing with them to aid in the fantasy.

In front of you, Simeon was typing up a storm. In your mind, it was his hands at your breasts, playing with your nipples until they were perky. You thought about him latching his soft lips around your nipple, licking at the sensitive skin there until you squirmed and moaned his name. You were careful this time to make sure you didn’t accidentally call for him when you really got into it. You weren’t in a rush to experience that embarrassment a second time.

He could see your folds progressively get wetter as you touched yourself and wrapped yourself in a fantasy he had no access to. Recalling the last time, Simeon wondered if he was occupying your mind again. This time, he was much more aware of his body’s reactions to the scene in front of him. There was no way he could ignore the pressure growing in his pants. No matter how much he focused on the document in front of him, he could feel his desires bubbling and threatening to spill over.

It was different this time. You were sprawled out in front of him, moaning softly and panting. Your head rested on the back of the chair. With your eyes closed and your mouth open slightly in an “O” you looked absolutely angelic. He wanted to join you, his fingers stopped typing and he was once again frozen, watching the performance in front of him.

You noticed he stopped typing much sooner than the last time and smirked a bit, cracking open your eyes to see his precious face staring at you in wonder. “Like what you see?” You asked coyly, sliding one hand down from your breast to your pussy. You spread yourself wide so he could see exactly just how wet you were.

Simeon only nodded, entranced with the way your folds glistened and he could smell your arousal from where he sat. He licked his lips holding onto his fraying desires as best as he could. Control yourself. You can do this. “Y-yes…” His voice came out thickly, as if his vocal chords refused to work properly.

You giggled, loving how riled up you were getting him and slowly rubbed your slick slit with your fingers. You moaned, the pleasure your fingers gave you was much better than riding a pillow. With just a quick glance, you noticed he had uncrossed his legs and was sporting a rather impressive tent in his pants. “Well, I’m glad that you’re not bored.” you teased much to his dismay.

His hands flew to his crotch, covering himself and he tried to will his boner back down to no avail. You giggled again, pulling his attention away from his arousal. “It’s okay, I would have been disappointed if you didn’t get turned on by what you’re seeing.”

“I uhm…”

“It’s okay.” You reassured him again. “Feel free to join in however you want. It only makes it all the more fun.”

Simeon gulped, torn between work and pleasure. He put himself in this predicament, he needed to figure a way out of it. He needed relief and he needed to write. The two sides of him warred as he scrambled with his fizzling brain to figure out something. An epiphany dawned on him when he heard his phone go off.

“Spam?” you asked when he fumbled with the incoming call, trying to silence the ringtone. “Or were you expecting someone?”

“Ah.. uhm… spam. I think.” He confirmed once he managed to figure out to disregard the call without picking it up. The next thing he needed to figure out was how to get the camera working and recording. You wanted to help him, but with one hand covered in fluids, you weren’t sure if he wanted you touching his phone.

Eventually with a little vocal coaching on your end and a lot of fumbling on his side, he got it to work and propped the phone up to start recording what you were doing. If he was going to get relief now, he needed to at least have proper reference to go back to later.

“Wow… you are so much kinkier than I thought.” You joked, causing Simeon to cover his face in shame, but he didn’t try to argue. There was something about having everything recorded for later that only added to the sexual tension in the room.

“It’s for research…” He mumbled more to convince himself than to explain to you what he was doing.

“Right… research.”

He moved his hands to mirror your own. One at his crotch and the other at his chest. It was difficult to hide your disappointment when you saw he wasn’t about to expose himself. His hand slipped under his clothes to touch and tease at his skin. You could see the barest hint of his abs peeking out from underneath the oversized sweater and you practically drooled at just the little bit of skin he showed off. You couldn’t help a small pout, frustrated at how unfair it was that you were putting in so much work for him and he could just so cutely masturbate alongside you.

The frustration disappeared the moment you saw his eyelids flutter clothes and he let out a soft moan. It was the most beautiful sound in the world and it was infinitely better than anything you could have imagined. His blue eyes lidded with pleasure were only opened to a sliver as he urged you to continue what you were doing.

With the camera rolling and the very vision of sin in front of you, you were more than eager to get back to getting off. Your finger found your clit and you rubbed it in the way that always made you see stars. “Hmmm, oh yeah…” You groaned, flicking your finger side to side before circling the little bundle of nerves. You were undoubtedly going to ruin his furniture again, but you didn’t care.

Simeon watched the way your fingers moved and he mimicked everything you did. His hand under his shirt pinched and rolled his nipple between his fingers. The sensation made him hiss from the initial pain but that was quickly replaced by pleasure which sent jolts of bliss straight to his aching cock. He bit his lip, repeating the motion, drowning himself in the sensation over and over again.

The scent of your essence was thick in the air. It felt like you were surrounding him with every breath he took. You were invading his every thought and infecting everything he thought was pure. But the freedom you gave him and the gratification that came with it was intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough of your breathy moans and the wet sounds of your fingers toying with yourself.

His own hand in his pants pumped his cock in time with the motion of your fingers. At one point you had done the most lascivious thing and slipped a finger inside of you. His eyes widened as the digit disappeared and reappeared covered in your slick. His cock twitched in his hand in jealousy. He wanted to be buried in there, he wanted to feel your heat surround him. But all he had was his hand to satisfy him.

Simeon was heavily panting now, working up to a frantic pace in his pants as his hand stroked his length. It was cramped and uncomfortable; but he couldn’t bear to expose himself to you. Surely that would be too much for you to see; and he wasn’t sure if he could control himself if he stripped alongside you.

“Mmm, I’m getting close.” you groaned, rolling your hips to meet your fingers and you teased your clit further, feeling your body tense in preparation for your climax. “What about you?”

“I… Uh.. I’m…” Simeon, stuttered, not able to process how close he was. It was so different from all the times he relieved himself alone. He just had to keep going until he was done. But with you in front of him, he wanted to do it together with you. Seeing your soaked pussy right in front of him made him more excited than he ever had been. “I think I’m close…”

You laughed at his naivety. “You think?” You teased. Perhaps you needed to up the ante a bit. “Come on… come with me.” You beckoned and pressed two fingers into your tight hole.

He blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend what his hormones were doing. Seeing your fingers being engulfed by your pussy, sliding in and out slowly while you moaned right next to him was pressing all the right buttons in him. He could see you stretch to accommodate your fingers and he was entranced by that. Without warning, he gasped, his grip on his cock tightened as he came. “Oh … I’m… I’m sorry…” He panted. “You just… that was… Uhm..”

“Too hot for you to handle?” You asked, now working yourself faster. The face he made when he came all of a sudden was so hot. You would definitely think back on it during lonely nights. Simeon’s breathy moans, the way his skin glowed with a thin sheen of sweat from exertion. It all added up to be a breathtaking image.

“I...Yeah…” You could see the faintest hint of red on his cheeks and smirked, satisfied that he was enjoyed himself just as much as you were loving every moment you were in front of him.

“Good… I guess it’s my turn then.” You said and went right into the motions of getting yourself to climax. Locking the image of Simeon’s “O” face in your mind, you finger fucked yourself closer and closer to completion.

You could feel your inner walls tighten and you were just at the edge of no return when you felt Simeon’s firm hand pull your fingers away. Whining loudly and glaring at him, you were about to berate him for ruining your good time until your entrance was filled with his own slender fingers. “Let me help you…” He said, his bright blue eyes were lit with a determination you hadn’t seen before and the fire behind them was such a turn on.

For someone who had just been so bashful about being intimate with you at the beginning, Simeon sure was being bold now. You didn’t say anything, not like you really could. Your capacity to form coherent words disappeared when his slender fingers entered you and mimicked the motions you had shown him. He was a fast learner, able to have you shivering with little to no effort. It was hard to believe just how he had a sudden switch in personality, but it was beside you to figure it out now.

You were free to call his name. After all, he was the one touching you now. “Oh… Simeon.” you moaned, panting and once again ramping towards your climax. This time, he was in control of the pace and the intensity of what got you off. He curled his fingers in you and you cried out loud when he brushed past a sensitive spot in you. He was so gentle and so precise, it was mind blowing what he picked up just from watching you.

“You’re close… right?” He asked sweetly. You looked at him and the intensity in his eyes was only made more obvious against his dark skin. The tone of his voice was in direct contrast to the laser focus his gaze had on your most intimate parts. Just the dichotomy of that alone inched you dangerously close to your climax.

Then, his thumb pressed against your clit and your world exploded. It was just the last bit of stimulation you needed to go over the edge. You clutched onto the arms of the chair while you rode out the high on his fingers. A mixture of curses and his name fell from your lips as you breathlessly tried to ground yourself. Your inner walls clenched around his digits and Simeon continued to slowly slide them in and out of you, marveling at the sensation of your pussy milking his fingers.

You kept seeing stars at the edge of your vision with every extra pass he took. You wanted to tell him to stop, but he was too engrossed in his ‘research’ to really pay any of your protests any mind. Eventually, he pulled his fingers out of you and you sighed in both relief and disappointment.

Simeon looked at his glistening fingers, holding them to the light and observed the slick essence that coated them. It was almost a little embarrassing to watch him be so intrigued by your fluids that you needed to distract yourself by getting dressed again so you didn’t have to look at him. While you had your back turned, Simeon experimentally licked his coated fingers and by the time you were fully clothed, he had fully cleaned them off. He looked at you and licked his lips. “Research.” He said nonchalantly with a shrug.

“Right… research.” you said, already getting hot and bothered again at what you had just witnessed. This man will be the end of me. “Do you think you’ve gotten all you need for your next scene?”

“Hmm….” He nodded sagely, remembering to stop recording. “I’ll have to review everything, but I think I know where to go from here.”

You smiled good naturedly and pat his head gently. “Don’t overwork yourself.” you said gathering your things. Once again, it had gotten late and you had to regretfully leave to ensure you caught the last trains home. “Call me or text me if you need help again, okay?”

“Oh, of course. I plan on it.” He smiled at you and your heart melted a little, but there was a devilish nature to that smile that had never been there before. “I’ll finish the next chapter probably in a week and send it to you.”

“I can’t wait to see what you come up with. I’m sure it’ll be great, as usual.” You grinned, feeling giddy after such a great climax as well as knowing that Simeon was able to continue working. It would definitely be good news to report back to the publishing house and keep them off his back as he worked in peace.

He let out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. It was a shame that he was already back to his usual innocent self. You wouldn’t have minded seeing more of that sex god who showed himself a few moments before. “Well, I’ll do my best to not disappoint. I have a lot to learn.”

“I’ll be sure to help you in any way I can.” You said. Looking down at your phone, you gasped noticing the time. “Shit. I gotta run if I don’t wanna walk all the way home tonight. Text me if you need anything!” You yelled, halfway across his home and stumbling to get your shoes back on.

When the door slammed shut, the silence that surrounded Simeon was deafening. He had been able to hold out on taking you, but it didn’t mean he hadn’t gotten a taste of what it was like to sin. The uncomfortable dampness of his cum clung to his leg, but he barely noticed it. Instead, he was focused on the file on his phone. The recording of what transpired that afternoon.

Taking a shaky breath, he resisted the urge to press play. The scent of your arousal and the taste of your essence were still too fresh in his mind. He needed to clean up. He needed to work. He needed to research and plan for you. He sighed and started to make his way to the shower. If he needed relief, then at least he could take care of it there and not in the mess that was his soiled pants.

As the sun sank past the horizon and gave way to night, the light within his soul waned and the darkness he had pushed aside grew. After a taste of sin, it was only natural that he would crave more until it consumed him.

And it felt heavenly.

#Obey Me!#Obey Me! Fanfic #Obey Me! Simeon #Obey Me! Smut #Simeon x Reader #Obey Me! AU #My writing #i'm trash you're trash we're all trash #It's innocent ish now #It'll only get kinkier as we go #Formatting is weird af on tumblr #go to the Ao3 link for it to be proper with the words emphasized as they should be #I'm too tired to bother through tumblr sorry folks

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spaceskam · 4 years

Text

The Road You Didn’t Take (7/7)

day 7 of @michaelguerinweek : “I’m only here to establish an... ali-bi.”

Happy bi visibility day!

ao3

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Michael woke up to the feeling of fingers on his jaw, tilting his head towards a pair of lips that kissed his nose and his cheek and eventually his lips when he made a noise to show he was awake.

Alex’s tongue slipped past his lips, bringing him to life nice and slow. If he woke up every morning like this, it would truly be heaven. Alex’s hand dragged over his side and pulled him as close as he could as he kissed him. Michael pressed against him and wanted to never move.

“You gotta get up,” Alex murmured as he broke the kiss. Michael whined, reluctantly opening his eyes. Alex was right there and looking all too beautiful for just having woken up. “You’ve got an interview. Go shower and make yourself look nice, I ordered food.”

“Can’t I just stay here?” Michael pleaded. Alex hummed, his thumb dragging over his bottom lip.

“No,” he said simply, “You need to get ready.”

“You’re a tease,” he complained.

“Mmm, is it teasing if we both know I’ll deliver later?” Alex asked. Michael nearly melted which only earned him two more kisses before Alex patted his hip. "Get up."

It took a lot more effort than he would ever imagine, but he managed to get out of bed and not fall over when he did so. Alex got out of bed much easier and stretched in all his half-naked glory. Yeah, this couldn't be real. There was no fucking way.

"Stop staring and go take a shower!" Alex laughed, "You gotta impress these people so you can get buff like you so desperately want."

Michael dragged himself to the bathroom and found himself smiling so wide that it hurt for no goddamn reason. Well, there was a reason. Because apparently he got to hook up with Alex now. That was something he could do. He didn't know what exactly that meant in the long run or if this was something they were going to keep doing, but he knew Alex promised more and he had an interview and he was on top of the world.

He'd been wanting something better for so long and finally he was getting that something better.

He came out of the shower as quick as possible, still drying himself off as he walked out. Alex was sitting on the desk, sipping coffee and looking at his phone. Michael hadn't seen him have a phone since the moment he stepped in his car on Friday.

"Look, see," Alex said, showing his phone to Michael as he came close. It was an instagram post on a Fever Dream fan account saying that Alex was seen in Mississippi. "Told you."

"That only has, like, 200 likes, did you search your name or something?" Michael laughed.

"I gotta know where they think I am so my band doesn't try to track me down," Alex said, " I left a note saying they could keep the name and their share of the royalties, but I'm not coming back.i still don't trust them to not make it harder."

"I'll keep you hidden," Michael promised. Alex smiled, leaning over to kiss his damp cheek.

"Thank you, but it'll come out eventually. I just need more time, you know?" he said. Michael nodded.

The delivery girl came as Michael texted Isobel good morning and a short promise to tell her about what happened. She sent back a series of emojis that seemed to show how scandalized she was. He just rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Alex. He rested his head on his shoulder they ate, refusing to sacrifice any semblance of closeness. Alex didn't seem to mind.

It was easy to be comfortable with him despite it being so new. Very new. He technically just met him two days ago and already he wanted to glue himself to his side. He'd never met anyone that made him feel like that. He refused to give it back.

"You know, if I get this job, I bet they'd be okay with you staying with me," Michael suggested casually. Alex laughed.

"Thanks for the offer, but I think I should get an apartment," Alex said. Michael sort of felt like that was a rejection, but he tried really hard not to. "Let's date first."

"Date," Michael repeated, "Going on a date with Alex Manes.That sounds like something teenage me manifested."

"But last night wasn't?" Alex laughed. Michael lifted his head.

"I was never bold enough to ever even consider that might happen. Still processing."

"Let me help you process some more," Alex offered, his fingers pressing into Michael's jaw to pull him in for a kiss. It was more than welcome.

They sat and kissed for a long time, just making out like they had all the time in the world. In some way, they kind of did have all the time in the world. Wasn't that something?

"Alright, let's go so you're not late," Alex said.

They made their way towards the front desk and that same kid was back for his night shift. He paled a little when he saw Alex again, but Alex just smiled slyly and walked right up him.

"We're gonna check out," Alex said. The kid nodded and started to pull up the paper they needed to sign.

"So, where are y'all headed?" he kid asked.

"Florida," Alex answered easily. Michael didn't question him, choosing to stay quiet until they got into the car

"Florida?" Michael asked.

"I'm only here to establish an alibi," Alex stated with a sigh. Michael smiled and shook his head.

"Fair enough."

Alex took his hand again as they followed the GPS directions towards the farm. The closer they got, the more neevous Michael felt, but he tried to hide it as best as he could. He just needed to stay calm. Alex was going to wait at a coffee shop that was a few miles away and look online for an actual hotel to stay at until he found an apartment. They were going to start a life here. A new one where they were happy and unbothered. Or that was the plan.

"You're going to do incredible," Alex promised as the got to the coffee shop. Michael was too nervous to make a comment on whether he believed that or not. Alex grabbed his face and kissed him enough to take away some of it. "Call me when you're done?"

A stupid, giddy smile found Michael's face. "I don't have your phone number."

"Whoops," Alex laughed. He took his phone though and typed it in before giving it back. He gave him another kiss before getting out of the car and going inside. Michael took a deep breath before heading towards the farm.

He was greeted by an older couple who were immediately welcoming. They explained that the heavy lifting was getting a little more difficult in their old age and their son was leaving for college and didn't have plans on coming back to the farm, so they needed someone to help out. He promised he was down for anything and they liked the sound of that. They showed him to the little airstream that was on the far end of the property that even had its own driveway towards the main road. It was small, but it was enough and it would be the first time he had his own space. He wondered if he and Alex could fit in the bed.

They showed him around the farm, the different barns, the different fields, and introduced him to the animals. Anything he wasn't sure how to do, he promised he could learn. Which he could. He'd always been a fast learner. He found himself getting giddy as he pet the cows and got a look at the tractor. It all was so appealing to him. Why hadn't he done this before? He remembered being so deadset on being an agricultural engineer that it hadn't even crossed his mind to do something similar. This felt similar.

Not only did it feel similar, it felt like the start of something new. It felt like he was finally going to be able to be himself. Truly and purely and he was excited.

Damn, it felt good to be excited.

"So when can you start?"

#mgweek20 #guerinweek20 #malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #rnm fic #my fic

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enterthesmosh · 5 years

Text

He Makes me Shine Like Diamonds: Shayne Topp

Word Count: 2381 Summary: SmoshCast and chill. Request: ‘ shayne topp x reader where the couple is on the smoshcast answering questions about their relationship since they are very private about it and give relationship advice ‘

In your tiny shared apartment, for just a moment, the only sound you could hear was the running water from the sink faucet. You sat perched on the counter beside the sink holding a plate in your hands while Shayne had his back turned to set the bowl he just finished rinsing into the dishwasher. When he was stood upright again you handed over the plate while he watched you with careful eyes.

“You can say no.” he said as he rinsed the remnants of dinner from the plate. “I mean, I was unsure that’s why I told Ian we’d have to have a talk about it.”

You hummed softly and reached to the side to grab another plate. “It’s not that I don’t want to do it. I mean, I’ve been on the SmoshCast before. It’s just… I don’t know. How are we qualified to give advice?”

Shayne chuckled lowly as he turned to put the first plate away before coming back to take the other from you. “Is that it, or are you nervous that the main topic is going to be us?” he asked, casting you a suspicious eye.

Unable to think of a witty response, you stuck your hand out under the water and flicked your fingers at Shayne, grinning as droplets landed on his cheeks and nose. Shayne laughed and rolled his eyes as he turned off the water and started the dishwasher. He walked over to you and stood between your legs, placing his hands on your knees.

“I know that it’ll be different since we don’t really talk about us or our relationship in the public eye but, I don’t know, I think it’ll be fun.”

You looked back at him and stared into his eyes for a moment before you watched the gentle smile spread across his lips. You took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay.” you conceded as you leaned in to press a kiss against his lips.

Shayne hummed and kissed you back. “Awesome… cool. I’ll text Ian.”

Sitting at the SmoshCast table wasn’t a new occurrence for you. Sure, you didn’t work for Smosh, but you had your own following online and were around the office quite a bit so more than once Ian had asked you to be a guest. During your first appearance, it had been made obvious that you and Shayne were a couple. Even though you both had more than once mentioned each other on your own social media, from twitter to instagram, it still shocked some fans.

You preferred to keep certain facets of your life private - or as private as you could.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want people to know you were dating Shayne. You love Shayne. It was more so the fact that you didn’t want unsolicited opinions on your relationship. So, it was slightly unnerving to be sitting there with Shayne ready to take questions and give advice on relationships.

Ian introed the show and introduced both you and Shayne, and you could feel your heart pick up pace inside your chest. As if sensing it, Shayne reached out to grab your knee, his thumb brushing gently against the side while he gave a comforting squeeze. You dropped the hand closest to Shayne to rest on top of his.

“I have to say, if you hadn’t told me, I probably wouldn’t have realized the two of you were together.” Ian said with a slight laugh.

Shayne chuckled and shook his head from side to side. “A lot of people say that.”

“Is it because I threaten to shank you a lot?” you asked with a grin. “Or that your name in my phone is still Douche McGee?”

Ian let out an unexpected laugh and you turned to face him with a pleased smile on your face. You could feel your heart settling down into its normal rhythm. Shayne’s hand let go of its grip on your knee but he turned it over in order to grab hold of your own and lace your fingers together.

Ian shook his head as he looked at his computer. “Idiots. Okay… our first question here is a simple one. Someone on Twitter wants to know how you guys met and how you got together.”

“We met through mutual friends almost three years ago.” Shayne said as he looked at you with slightly squinted eyes, like he was trying to remember exactly.

You hummed softly and nodded, giving his hand a squeeze. “We have some mutual friends who were having a beach… thing. I didn’t really want to go but I got dragged along and in protest I sat under an umbrella reading. I was there a whole like… ten minutes when Shayne showed up, sat next to me and started talking about the book I was reading.”

“I didn’t want to be there either.” Shayne leaned back in his chair and let out a short laugh. “But I saw Y/N with a copy of one of the Game of Thrones books and decided I needed to talk to that girl. We talked for a long time, exchanged numbers, and parted ways.”

Ian looked at the two of your through slightly narrowed eyes but you only smiled at him as you felt Shayne give your hand another squeeze under the table. “But you guys didn’t get together right away, right?”

You laughed loudly and shook your head, lifting your free hand to cover your mouth for a brief moment while you collected yourself. “God, no.” you said through giggles.

“We’re both way too awkward for that.” Shayne said, joining in your laughter.

It took a few deep breaths but you managed to bring yourself back. “We’d hang out a lot when we had free time. It was nice. I remember when I first realized I had, like actual, feelings for Shayne. It was, like, a slap in the face of ‘why aren’t you doing anything about this?’. So the next time we hung out I asked him if he wanted to go on a date with me.”

Ian made an interested noise and you shrugged your shoulders slightly. “How’d you like that, Shayne?”

Shayne smiled broadly as he cut his eyes in your direction and you could feel your heart stutter in your chest as he looked back at you. “Oh, it was great. I loved that Y/N was, like, confident enough to go ahead and do that. And, obviously, I said yes.”

“How long did it take for you guys to be like official. Boyfriend-girlfriend official?”

You hummed thoughtfully and looked at Shayne as you tried to think. “We went on dates and stuff for like… two months? Two and a half months? And then one night we were hanging out at the pool at Shayne’s apartment and he asked if I wanted to be his girlfriend.”

“I was so nervous and so uncool.” Shayne laughed softly into the microphone.

You squeezed his hand and made a soft cooing sound. “You’re always nervous and uncool, babe.”

Both Ian and Shayne laughed loudly and you only grinned back at Shayne as he watched you, his eyes bright and shiny. Ian collected himself and cleared his throat as he looked back on the screen of his laptop. “Someone on Instagram said: I’ve recently moved in with my girlfriend and suddenly we’re fighting a lot more and things just feel harder. How do you deal with that kind of transition?”

“Well, we moved in together about a year and a half ago.” you said, crossing your legs under the table and trying to get more comfortable. “And we definitely had some growing pains for the first few weeks.”

Shayne nodded. “It’s hard. To go from being on your own and seeing this person for a few hours at a time to suddenly having them everywhere all the time. It took us a while to reach a point where we realized we couldn’t, and really didn’t want to spend every second of every day together.”

“It’s all about boundaries. There are days that Shayne will come home from work and I’ll be in the bedroom and he won’t come see me right away and I know it’s because he needs time on his own to decompress. And conversely, when I am really in my head and know I need my own time I will find somewhere away from Shayne to just… be. Like, it’s great that we live together and I love that we do but we are still our own people with our own interests and needs so we really had to find the balance of together time and personal time.”

Ian nodded. “Because otherwise you’d kill each other.”

“Exactly.” Both you and Shayne said, sharing a laugh.

The three of you powered through a few more questions, sharing anecdotes of your relationship and giving out whatever advice that the two of you found to work for you. For the majority of the podcast, you kept your hand clasped together with Shayne’s under the table. It was comforting to feel his warm hand cradling your own and giving you firm, reassuring squeezes as you spoke.

Ian seemed to be scrolling for something on the laptop but stopped and nodded. “How did you know you loved each other? How did you tell the other person?”

Immediately, you knew your answer and couldn’t help the stupid grin that spread over your face. “You should watch the video of this podcast just to see the look on Y/N’s face.” Ian teased softly. You laughed and rolled your eyes at him before straightening up in your chair. “Shut up.” you chuckled, shaking your head from side to side.

“For me… we had been official for a little while and I got very sick. Like, I was in the emergency room for six hours running tests sick. Shayne had been filming all day for The Goldbergs and when I finally got released, after being told I had pneumonia and was put on a crap ton of antibiotics, I went home and just passed out.” you started to explain.

You caught Shayne’s eye and could see the soft smile tugging at his lips.

“I woke up to knocking at my door and when I finally shuffled out there, Shayne was there with flowers, and soup, and tea. He even brought over this super fuzzy blanket and he just wrapped me up and made me take my medicine and just… took care of me. I’d never had someone do that before, and he had been at work all day, so to just come over and do all of that blew my mind. Like, I remember curling up on the couch watching something on netflix and looking over to see him in the kitchen making me soup and just thinking… yeah, I really love him.”

It was quiet for a moment between the three of you and you glanced over at Shayne to see him watching you with warm, loving eyes. You grinned and lifted your joined hands to press a kiss to the back of his which just made him laugh softly and roll his eyes at you.

“I think, for me, it was probably around the same time. We were at Y/N’s apartment and she was playing Valkyria Chronicles, which is one of my favorite games. She got to this very emotional part in the story and I remember watching her trying to, like, subtling hide the fact that she was tearing up and I just put my arm around her and pulled her close and I kissed the top of her head and…”

You chuckled lowly, “And you said it.”

“I did. I said it without thinking,” Shayne nodded. “And Y/N just stared at me with these wide, teary eyes and I felt like I was going to shit my pants.”

Ian laughed. “So romantic.”

“After I composed myself, I told him I loved him too, obviously.” you clarified, giving Shayne’s hand a squeeze.

Ian pushed onwards and the three of you talked through quite a few more questions. You looked at your watch to check how much more time was left just as Ian sat up and cleared his throat.

“Okay, last question.” Ian said, taking a long sip from his water bottle. “From Twitter: I am seeing a guy who is very adamant about who I spend time with and wants to look at my messages all the time. Is he just jealous? How do I deal with it?”

At the same time, you and Shayne both leaned into your microphones. “Dump him.”

“Look. I dated a guy who was so sure I was cheating on him and demanded to see my phone messages to prove it. After a lot of cyclical arguing, I unlocked my phone and showed him there was nothing there. And then I broke up with him on the spot. If someone cannot trust me, then how am I supposed to trust them?”

Shayne nodded and adjusted the hat on his head. “On top of that, like, someone telling you who you can and cannot hang out with his just not the kind of person you need to be in a relationship with. At all.”

Ian took it upon himself to wrap up the show as both you and Shayne waved at the camera. Once all of the equipment was shut off, you removed your headphones and relaxed back in your chair. “How was that?” Ian asked with a slight laugh as he got to his feet.

“Not as bad as I thought.” you said, checking your watch again. “Damn, I have to go though.”

Shayne stood up just as you did and you grinned at him before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ve got some errands to run but I’ll be home around the same time you are. Do you want me to make something for dinner?” you asked as you gathered up your stuff.

Shayne shook his head and kissed you again. “Don’t worry about it, babe, I’ll pick something up on my way home. See you then.”

You nodded your head and smiled brightly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, now leave me alone.”

#shayne topp #shayne topp imagine #shayne topp fanfiction #shayne topp x reader #shayne t x reader #shayne topp reader insert #shayne topp fan fiction #smosh #smosh games #smosh fanfiction #smosh imagine #smosh x reader #smosh fan fiction

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danetobelieve · 4 years

Text

A Latte On Your Mind || Layla and Winston

Coffee Plus had always been Winston’s go to place when it came to finding somewhere to meet. The thing was that this was a bit of a weirder meeting then they normally had in this place. The request that they had received online had been one that a few months ago they would’ve probably ignored. But with everything that had happened in the first part of the year, Winston was pretty confident that they could do this and if anything went wrong they could either handle it or run like hell. So there they sat, waiting in a booth like they’d agreed. Their laptop in front of them so they could work while they waited.

Layla had made a promise long ago to her girlfriend, Frankie, that she would always be there for her. But the night her parents tried to end her life, she knew she couldn’t hang around or put the one person she loved most in the world, at risk. It had been almost a year since she had been in contact with the girl, and now that she was finally comfortable enough to feel safe, she had decided reaching out would be the best. It just happened to be that there was someone out there who could possibly help. She had never met them, but thanks to social media, she was about to play a game of seek as she walked into the small coffee shop. Scanning the room, she spotted exactly who she was looking for. Walking over to them, she stopped before taking a seat, “Winston…” Her voice was quiet, and her nerves were getting the better of her. She talked a big game online, but, in reality, Layla was as docile as they came, unless threatened.

Winston’s eyes shot up from the screen of their laptop and to the girl who had taken a seat opposite. Winston pushed the computer away from them slightly and took a long sip of their coffee before smiling and nodding. “Hi, you’re Layla … right?” Winston wasn’t really that good at this side of it. The truth was that they were nervous about most things at the best of times and they weren’t about to just put that on display. The balancing act of actually living their life in this supernatural nightmare (at least at times) had become tedious. “Do you want a coffee or something?” Winston asked hoping that the offer could help to break the ice. They weren’t sure what was going on here or why Layla needed help but Winston wanted to do what they could. This was what they were working towards and now that they had discovered that they could use magic they had another way of doing that. Though maybe this wouldn’t require that.

Layla wasn’t getting any vibes that Winston was hostile or had any desire to hurt her. If it was one thing being a werewolf had provided, it was a heightened sense of any danger and probably the greatest gift the stupid bite had given her. Seeing that it was safe to take a seat, she slid into the booth opposite the person sitting in front of her. “That I am. Um…” Letting her eyes shift to a nearby menu that was hanging just past them at the counter, she quickly scanned over it, “An Iced Coconutmilk Latte, if you don’t mind. I’m still working out the job situation, but I’ll pay you back. I’m good for it.” She had sworn to Ari that she would pay her back, and she was going to do the same for Winston.

“Uh, don’t worry about it, you can get me one another time or something.” Winston slipped out of the booth and headed to the counter, quickly ordering her drink before returning to their seat. She seemed tense. Which was understandable, given the circumstances Winston imagined that they would be very tense. It must be weird. Probably a little humiliating. But this was White Crest and weirder things than this happened everyday. “So you’re new to town?” Winston asked waiting for the drink to arrive, this was probably better without any distractions. “How have you found it?”

That she would do. Kindness seemed to be something that was coming from the most ironic of towns, considering all the scary shit that seemed to be going down here. “I can do that, sure.” Layla shifted in the booth a little watching them get up to go place her drink order. Was she doing the right thing reaching out to Frankie like this? She wasn’t absolutely sure. She wanted the girl to be safe, but she needed to know that Layla didn’t just abandon her, because she wanted to. She did it for survival. Of course, a thought had crossed her mind. What had her parents told her family and friends? Seeing them return to the table, Layla shifted her focus back to Winston, “Yeah, I just got here not too long ago. And truthfully? Aside from it being uber creepy, it’s not as bad as I initially thought, but maybe that’s because there’s actually been decent people here. Have you lived here long?”

Wrapping their fingers around their mug of coffee, Winston took a long sip of it before turning their attention back to Layla. They were curious about what had brought them to this of all places. Some of the most unusual people seemed to be ending up here and Winston couldn’t explain what drew them here. Other then the obvious supernatural hotspot of course. “Once you get over some of the creepier aspects of White Crest, it really is okay. There are lots of good people, lots of good places to go and lots to see.” Though it wasn’t always good things, but they weren’t going to scare Layla with that just yet. “Uh, yeah, my whole life actually, I’ve never really been anywhere but White Crest.” They always wondered if they needed to get away. Just get out of White Crest and see some of the world. Maybe there was actually somewhere, somewhat normal out there.

In all honesty, Layla was just on the run and trying to get as far away from danger as possible. It was her nose that had led her here. But what Winston was saying had been true. Just in the little time she had spent in White Crest, she had seen the good in people. Maybe it was the monsters and things that went bump in the night that seemed to band them together, but most people cared about the well being of others, “I’m kinda starting to see it. The goodness in people. My heart’s been closed off for far too long, but it’s weird, because I’ve never felt more at home here than I have anywhere else.” She paused, “I’m rambling. You said good places and lots to see. What would you recommend?” Winston seemed easy to talk to, and she was glad she had met them, “It’s a big world out there, but you should go explore it sometime. I’m sure you’re not in the same situation I’m in.” I don’t think anyone really is…

“Weird, but I get exactly how you feel,” Winston wasn’t about to move anywhere else because there was never anywhere worth moving to, “there is just something about this town that makes me unable to consider moving elsewhere. I used to think that it was to do with my friends and family but I am really starting to think that it might be something else. But you should give us a chance, we might surprise you.” Looking down at their laptop, Winston tapped their thumbs on the top of the screen thoughtfully. “I mean, what are you looking for? Places to eat? Things to do? Things to see? Places to go? There’s a load of really interesting stuff you can do.” They looked up and down before shrugging. “Maybe one day, can’t go right now, too much for me to do…” taking a long drink of their coffees as they arrived, Winston now convinced of their privacy paused. “So, did you want to tell me what you want me to do?”

Layla missed her home back in Tennessee, but only because of Frankie and the friends she had left behind. Her parents had made it clear they didn’t want her around by their apparent need to kill her, but White Crest, just in the short amount of time was offering something to her that no other place had, “I know for fact, for me anyways, that it’s not family or friends, because besides Ari, Ulf, and give or take a few people, I don’t really know anyone here. But it just feels...right. As for things to do...nothing in particular. I should probably focus on the basic needs of life first, before I ever consider anything recreational.” Grabbing the drink that had just been brought out, she took a long slow sip enjoying every second of it. It was their question that got her attention focused back on why she had come to meet them in the first place, “Yeah, sorry. I want to get a message to my girlfriend. I had to abandon her without word of why, and I just want her to know that it wasn’t because I wanted to. It was because my life was...is in danger.” Had she said too much? She’d soon find out.

Raising an eyebrow at the mention of Ariana’s name, Winston did their best not to choke on their coffee as subtly as they could. Pleased with the fact that they had managed not to spit their coffee all over Layla, Winston swallowed and wiped their eyes which had begun water. “Ari, like Ariana Bennett?” Winston asked curiously. How did this girl know Ariana? Either way, if they were friends then there was even less reason for Winston to help. The friend of your friend is also your friend? Wasn’t that how that saying went? Or was it something about enemies? Her next confession had Winston coughing on coffee once more. “Woah, woah, okay we can definitely get the message to your girlfriend easy, we’re going to have to be more specific about whether you want to call, video chat, email, instant message, carrier pigeon, smoke signal or use a telegraph, but I feel like we should circle back to the needing to abandon her because your life is in danger, are you safe now? Is that why you’re here?”

Picking up on Winston’s choking, Layla narrowed her eyes in curiosity, but also concern, “Are you okay? Do you need help, because I do know some first aid…” The first aid her parents had taught her back when they assumed she would be the next Cooke family member to carry on the hunting legacy. However, when she saw they were fine, it gave her some relief knowing she wouldn’t have to explain herself to anyone, if she couldn’t save them. “Uh...yeah, I think so? I don’t know her last time, but short, a little feisty, but super sweet? Why do you ask? Is there something wrong?” She was starting to worry. Had she approached the wrong person for help. It did give her a sense of peace knowing they were still willing to help, “Carrier pigeon...really?” Squeezing her eyes and shaking her head, she retrained her focus, “Whatever isn’t going to be traced back here. That’s what I want, so you’re like the pro at this. What’s your suggestion? And she’ll know it’s me. We have our own little code.”

“Yeah I’m fine, you just shocked me a little bit and something went down the wrong way.” Winston swallowed and wiped moisture away from their eye. Taking a moment to catch their breath again, Winston sighed and nodded. “Don’t worry, Ariana is a friend of mine, I actually dyed her hair,” not something that Winston thought they would ever be bragging about but here they were. They considered Layla’s problem. She obviously had a message. “Okay, the carrier pigeon thing was a complete joke, but could you be more specific about like the length of your message, is it written down, is it a video, is it a sound byte? The more detail you can give me the better. It might actually just be as easy as sending the physical mail with no return address. Depends.”

“As long as you’re okay…” She looked them over once to make sure. She let out a soft sigh of relief hearing Winston was a friend. If Ariana trusted them, she could trust them. “It looks good. Really good actually. At least I know who to go to if I ever want, or need, to change my look.” Layla was attached to her red hair though, and probably wouldn’t change it anytime soon. Their question made her think. What did she want to say to Frankie exactly and how? “No return address...could I send her a video? Like a dvd. If I’m going to tell her I may never be returning home, I want her to at least see my face one more time to let her know that this is genuine and how truly sorry I am.” She looked down at her drink as tears began to trickle down her pale cheeks.

“Yeah seriously don’t worry I’m good,” Winston replied with a shrug. It wasn’t a big deal. “Well, I’m not really sure that I can guarantee repeat success but I’m sure Ariana could supervise and make sure I don’t do anything too damaging.” They hoped that they weren’t going to have to dye her hair for the same sort of reason that Ariana had asked for their help. “I would recommend you use a USB, if you think there’s a password she can guess then you could encrypt it but that’s risky. I guess you could put a note in there.” Winston frowned gently. “Are you okay?” they said quietly, reaching across the table and slidding a napkin across to her. “Do you want to fill me in a little bit on what’s going on maybe? It’s cool if not, but you look like you’ve got things to say.”

Layla was listening to them, but she refused to raise her head. Reaching out for the napkin, she wiped her eyes and forced back the lump that had formed in her throat, “I know exactly what the password could be. She’ll know it.” With a quivering breath, she finally looked back up to Winston, “It’s the least I could do right? Telling you.” Gathering her nerves, she spoke, “Long story short, I became something my parents didn’t think was possible, and because of it, they tried to kill me, so I ran. I don’t know if you believe in the supernatural, Winston, but there are things in this world that aren’t so nice, and because I was born with a target on my back, I am now one of those things. And my parents...they desperately try to rid the world of those things.”

Raising an eyebrow gently Winston was about to ask her if she was sure that she really wanted to explain herself to them, but then she was launching into it and Winston wondered if perhaps they had heard this story before. It sounded awfully familiar to their friend Orion, even had some similarities to his sister Athena. Though that was someone that Winston didn’t want to be thinking about. “Actually, I believe in the supernatural very much,” Winston carefully looked around them before continuing speaking, “I don’t want to push you for anymore detail but believe me when I say that I empathise with you very much, though I’m sure we’ve had very different experiences and I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, the truth is that you’re not the only one who’s learning a new way of life. Hell I’ve become different too and whatever you are; and like I could try and guess; vampire or zombie seems unlikely, maybe you just found out you’re fae or maybe you’re a fan of the moon,” they paused again, “point is that it doesn’t matter. You’re not alone here.”

Hearing them speak, Layla didn’t feel quite so alone or ashamed. She was even able to raise her head and look at them. But knowing that Winston believed and that they were similar to Layla, at least in not being completely human, gave her some relief. “I wouldn’t exactly say I’m a fan of the moon. At least not anymore.” She used to love looking up at the moon. Laying on the ground and staring at the night sky wondering where the stars could take her, but that all changed after she received the bite. “It feels good to be able to talk. Ari and her family have been so kind, but I don’t want to keep burdening them with my problems. I don’t want to burden you either, but you’ve got skills I know nothing about, and after this is done, I’ll leave you alone. And don’t worry, if anyone can keep a secret about who...what they are, it’s me.”

Nodding gently, Winston hoped that they would be able to at least help them contact their girlfriend, ex girlfriend? Winston wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter though. They were clear on one thing, Layla had something to say and she just needed a little help saying it. “Maybe you’ll come around to it…” they shrugged, “listen, this world, it’s intense, but it’s amazing too. If you can get used to it, which I am not sure that I have. But some people seem to thrive here and you could too.” They listened carefully before shrugging. “You don’t need to leave me alone, if I didn’t want to be here helping you then I wouldn’t be, sometimes you need someone to help. Maybe I’ll need your help one day, you never know and then you’ll owe me and I’ll definitely have to get it back from you. Totally.” Winston was trying to ease it for them. “Don’t worry, secrets are pretty inherent to this place.”

How had she been so blessed to find Ari, Celeste, Ulf, and now Winston. Layla definitely had reason to lay her head down tonight and count the kind things that had happened. It would be the first time, in a long time, she would be able to go to bed with a smile on her face. “Hopefully. I think I’ve just got a lot to sort out in my mind, you know? But you’re helping me with one of those things, and for that, I’m forever grateful.” She gave him a soft, sad smile, “And I don’t know what you would need my help for, unless you’ve got a cheer problem or need your nails painted, but okay.” She took a sip of her coffee. “So what’s next? How do we proceed to do this?” She didn’t want to take up anymore of their time than she already had.

Nodding, Winston gave Layla a quick smile. “I understand, everything gets almost infinitely more stressful when the supernatural gets involved. It’s all so aggressive. I don’t really get it to be honest but it’s the world that we now live in.” Winston paused and considered their predicament. “I’m sure you can give me a manicure or something if you’re feeling really guilty, but I feel like if we don’t stick up for each other and build a community of us who do it then how are we going to stand a chance against the crazy shit that’s out there.” They took a long sip of their coffee, revelling in the caffeine for a moment before nodding. “So, film your message or record it or write it or whatever you decide you want to do and you can do that on your own or I can help or someone else could help and you could send it to me. Whatever works.”

Everything they were saying made so much sense. They all had to stick together, especially when it came to certain people in the world who wanted other’s dead. It wasn’t fair for Layla, Winston, Ari, and so many others not to be able to feel safe in the world they lived in. Everyone had deserved that right, “I agree. What gives anyone the right to tell someone they don’t belong or don’t have a say in things? People, wolves, whatever should have a right to live as they want as long as they’re doing it safely. I surely don’t want to put anyone’s life in danger. That’s not my goals or my motives, but I do want to be able to live a somewhat normal life…” Her voice was low, but stressed. Layla took a small sip of her coffee to try and gather herself. “I can do that. I’ll see if Ari or Celeste can help. Ulf still kind of intimidates me, and I don’t want to bother him too much, since he was kind enough to share his trailer with me.”

Raising an eyebrow gently, Winston in one sentence or so learned way more about Layla then they had in a lot of the time that they had just been sitting there talking to her. “Of course, the first time I learned that hunters were actually a thing, that people decide to go out and hunt and kill others, it’s terrifying. In some ways I can’t believe that this has all somehow been kept secret and yet in others I know that turning a blind eye and denying it is sometimes easier then coming to terms with the truth.” Winston looked down at their sneakers for a moment, gazing at their dirty white laces trying to think of what was best to say. “Cool, yeah of course, once you’re ready and you’re done with whatever your message is let me know and I can set everything up and encrypt it all.” They hoped that this had helped. They were glad that Layla had somewhere to stay, but they were somewhat suspicious of the fact she was staying in a trailer with someone called Ulf. Ulf sounded a little too much like wolf, but then again didn’t Ariana know someone called Ulf?

“Yeah, imagine growing up around hunters.” Layla paused. She kind of gave them more than she should have, but it didn’t seem like they were out to harm her. “Sometimes I wish my parents could have turned a blindeye. Not been so by the book. I might actually still be home and with Frankie and headed to college, if they had just broken a rule or two for once in their lives.” She glanced out the window of the cafe seeing a bird fly by. Turning her attention back to Winston, she knew what she had to do. “Got it. You’ll be hearing from me again pretty soon then. At least I’ll have one weight off of my shoulders once this is done.” She finished off the remainder of her coffee. “I won’t waste anymore of your time today. I’m sure you’re pretty busy.” Sliding out of the booth, Layla stood up, “And hey, Winston, thanks again. What you’re doing...it’s good. Hang in there and watch your back.” And with that Layla tossed her cup in the trashcan and was gone.

#p: layla #para #wickedswriting #chatzy para #a latte on your mind

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divineluce · 4 years

Text

Ink About It || Remmy & Luce

Location: Ink Inc.

Notes: Remmy comes in to ease a burden that’s being weighing on their mind. Luce both helps and attempts to hurt.

Remmy had a secret. It was nestled on the back of their left shoulder, and it was a simple tattoo. It listed the names of their squadmates, in order of rank. And their dog tag numbers, with a circle around them. Simple, easy. If one of us dies, we all get the name crossed out. It was a little morbid, really, but they’d all been young and dumb. And doing this had felt like it brought them closer together. It was supposed to motivate them to all stay safe. To remind them that they had people to look out for, other than themselves. And to carry their memories on their back, always, even if they were gone. But Remmy had never gone back to get it finished. The thought of getting all their names crossed out felt...too heavy. They wanted a better way to remember them, to commemorate them. To move on from their loss. But they couldn’t figure out what they wanted to do with it, the list of names on their shoulder. Like a laundry list of all the things they’d done wrong. All the people they’d let down. It was time to change that. Breathing in-- a still comforting gesture, despite the lack of need-- they went up to the parlor doors and pushed them open. The little bell ran as they entered and they glanced up, before looking back inside. They hadn’t really planned on coming here so abruptly, but acting on impulse was something Remmy was trying to do more of. It was time to get out of such a regimented lifestyle, stuck in military time. There was someone at the front desk, a woman, looking a little bored and a little distracted. “Um, hi,” Remmy said as they scooted up to the counter, “I um...I don’t have an appointment or anything, but like, I was hoping to maybe talk to someone about uh, an alteration. To an existing tattoo. If that’s, if like--” they paused, “if that’s okay.”

Rolling a pencil across her fingers, Luce looked at the clock. Fucking hell, it’d already been 40 minutes. She was calling it. “We gotta no show. Again.” She said, poking her head out of her room. Leave it to Dario to schedule another flake for her, christ. Which meant she’d come in for nothing. At least she’d had time to work on a few designs of her own, but this was getting frustrating. She was trying to make money here, and fewer asses in the chair meant less money in her wallet, simply speaking. At least she was gonna be making money off her cabin. Her sweet, amazing, beautiful cabin… that her mom had forced her to move out off. Resting her head on her hand, she looked at her sketchbook for a second, contemplating the design she’d been working on for the new girl to the coven. What was her name? M- something. Melissa? Mallory? Morga--Morgan. Yeah, that’s the one. As she worked on the preliminary sketches, the little bell over the door rang out and she heard someone talking nervously with the receptionist. Popping her head out the door, Luce walked out to the main area of the shop. “We take walk-ins. And it’s your lucky day. I’m Luce,” She stuck out a hand, “What are you looking to get done?” She asked.

Remmy startled slightly when someone came out of the back room and over to the front desk. “Oh, hi! Hello, I--” they paused, taking in her sight. She was oddly familiar. Long, dark hair, that looked almost as dark as the night outside. Piercing eyes. Tattoos up each arm. A tank top that dipped a little lower down her sides than usual, and pants that were...form fitting. Remmy felt their throat close up. “Ye-eah. Yup. I’m lucky! I mean-- I’m Remmy. I mean, I’m here for a tattoo. Well not a tattoo, I already have one. I want it like-- uh, altered? I need it-- yup. Altered. That’s what I’m here for. Right now. Um...Oh!” They finally reached out to take her hand, noticing that it was warmer-- kinda like Bea’s-- before stepping back a little. “Are you the artist? Do you like, um-- I...don’t really know how this works. Sorry.”

Eyebrow raising as the person began to stumble through their words, Luce nodded. Another nervous nellie. Which, given her own sister’s fear of needles, not an entirely inaccurate saying either. As they continued to ramble on, Luce realized that they were saying something that sounded familiar-- the whole, altering thing. Talking about it like tattoos were a jacket or something. “I think we might have talked about this online, actually. Good to meet you in person. And, you lucked out, Remmy. Because I’ve got a solid 4 hours free.” She said with a slight grimace. Fucking cancellations. She was willing to bet it was probably some guy who got too drunk last night and missed his appointment while nursing a hangover in Al’s. “I’m not the artist. That would be Ulfric, he owns this place. I’m one of the artists who works here consistently. Me and Rory, a handful of others. Come on, let’s talk shop in my workspace.” She said, gesturing for them to follow her back to her private room in the shop. It was a neat and organized place, with a few shelves that had a couple candles, a polished citrine crystal, and some of her artwork hanging on the walls. A pinboard with a bunch of pre-made design stencils filled one wall, the prices written on the corner. “So,” Luce said as she slid into her chair, opening her laptop, “What am I working with and what are you thinking?”

“Oh! Yeah!” Remmy said, trying to recall the conversation. Their thoughts had jumbled that night, after learning about Blanche’s house exorcism gone wrong. But that was in the past and everything was okay now. They could take this time to focus on them, and just them. And not the very attractive person who was now saying things. Things Remmy should probably listen to. Tuning back in, Remmy nodded. “Right, yeah! Let’s-- yeah.” They followed Luce back to her station, eyes wandering. Landing on some of the charcoal drawings hung up on the walls. “Did you do these?” they asked, leaning in a bit closer, but keeping a good distance. They knew not to touch other peoples’ art. They looked almost like some of the things Remmy doodled. Lots of shapes and straight lines. Remmy liked drawing buildings and objects. Things that a calculated mind could easily recreate. They turned back to face her, unsure of where to sit, shuffling around. “Uh, it’s-- I can sh--” they started, but stopped. Showing her meant taking their sweater off. It meant showing someone their tattoo for the first time since they’d gotten back. It was usually always covered. “It’s on my back. It’s um...some names, in a circle. And uh, dog tag chains.”

“I did. Clean lines and geometric work are kind of my thing.” Luce said, tilting her head to the stencils on the wall, “But, I’m also good at a lot of other styles. American traditional, Japanese traditional, black work, you name it, I can do it. I draw the line at new school. I don’t do bubbly graffiti art.” She grimaced. She hated that oversaturated shit. Watching as they looked over the art on her walls, Luce leaned back in her chair, amused. Maybe they were an artist too. Starving artist, by the looks of their clothes. But, that was how it went sometimes. Watching the way they fidgeted, Luce pointed at one of the chairs by the door. “Have a seat. Please.” She added. Maybe the politeness would help their nerves. As they described their tattoo to her, Luce fought to keep her expression neutral. But still... Dog tags. Luce wasn’t a stranger to doing military tattoos and if someone wanted a tattoo with names and dog tags altered? That meant some big shit must have gone down. “Mhm. Okay. What are you thinking about doing with them?”

“Wow, they’re really good,” Remmy said with a genuine awe. They always wondered how people could make such great things, out of their own minds. Glancing back at Luce, they nodded quickly. “Right, yeah. Sit. Okay.” And fell into the chair quickly, stumbling only a little. They looked at her, then down at their shoes. They should’ve worn nicer shoes. And nicer pants. And...not a weird baggy sweater. Remmy smoothed their palms down their thighs before looking up at her again. “Uh, oh. I mean...I don’t really know. What I want to do with it. Just that...I want it to feel better. Um-- sorry, that doesn’t make sense. I mean, I want it to not be...what it is. What it represents? I want it to be...a good thing. Not--” a representation of death. Remmy bit their bottom lip. “I was kinda hoping someone else could help like, figure it out? I’m not all that creative, really. Better with the like, looking at something and drawing it side. Like buildings! And cars.”

“Thanks.” Luce said with a wry smile. Not that she doubted that Remmy meant it-- if anything, she had a feeling they were very serious in how they felt about her works. But, there were still flaw with her art, still discrepancies here and there. Crooked lines, pieces that didn’t fully work as a whole. She kept the art mainly as a reminder that there was always room for improvement. Swivelling in her chair to face her client, Luce listened as they rambled their way through their thoughts. And the way that they petered off at the end of their sentence confirmed her suspicions. This tattoo, it carried weight. It carried baggage. And this person literally had a burden that no one else could understand, weighing down on their shoulders. “Okay. So, what I want to know is, do you want it covered up? Or do you want it changed in a way that it’s still visible and still a part of you. Because those are very, very different things. People like to say that art is just art, but there’s more to it.” Luce said, pausing for a moment. “I’m not a therapist, won’t claim to be one either. But this is some heavy shit, I’m guessing. And I want to make sure you’re making the right decision, for present and future you, with this.”

“The second one,” Remmy said quickly, “definitely the...second one. I don’t want it covered up. I--” like it? No. That wasn’t quite the right word. Remmy had always been bad at finding the right words. “--need it.” Want it, even. They subconsciously reached back, fingers pressing where the names were under their sweater. Their eyes fell back to their shoes. They really needed new shoes. “It’s-- it’s not that big of a deal, really. It was just, like, stupid kids making a stupid promise to each other. And I...want to honor the like...thought behind it. Maybe not like, what it represents, what it came to be but like...what we wanted them to mean. What it should mean.” They dropped their hand, plucked at a loose string. “Sorry. I um...I’m really bad at explaining things.”

Oh boy. Luce hadn’t been wrong about this tattoo having a lot of baggage behind it, if they were this uncomfortable talking about it. Watching the way they averted their eyes, the way they reached for a spot on their shoulder, Luce folded her arms across her chest contemplatively. On the one hand, this seemed like something that might be out of her depth. On the other hand… she loved a challenge. And they seemed like a good person, just a bit lost. Nothing like getting an old piece refreshed to help the soul. “It’s all good. And hey. It’s something that’s got a lot of meaning to you clearly. Both then and now. So. Honoring the people you served with. I can get behind that.” She said, mulling over some ideas. It would all depend on the placement of the tattoo, of course. “I’m gonna close the door, give us some privacy so you can show me what you’ve got. I kinda need to know what I’m working with.” Luce explained.

“Oh, good, cool,” Remmy said, smacking themself internally for how stupid they sounded. “Now? You need to-- yeah. Okay. Um-- yeah. Okay! I can...do that.” They watched her close the door and shuffled in the chair a little. They waited until Luce was sitting again before tugging their sweater off, thankful they’d decided to put their binder on today instead of just using the wrap. “It’s uh,” putting the sweater aside, they turned so that their left shoulder was facing Luce better. “Back here,” pointed at the spot, “kinda covered, I can...move it.” Under the fabric was a simple tattoo: four names, each surrounded by the outline of a dog tag. Like a list, almost. Calvin Lancer, Lieutenant. Jeremy Andrews, Second Lieutenant. Ken Johnson, Private. Darius Mulberry, Combat Medic. All in a row down their shoulder, an almost mechanical tattoo. They glanced up at Luce, wondering what she could have thought about it. If it was savable.

Giving them space, Luce settled back down in her chair and politely waited for them to show her the tattoo. The flash of the binder wasn’t too surprising, they seemed pretty androgynous. But, never hurt to be clear. “Real quick-- preferred pronouns? And, if I’m down to do this tattoo, are you cool with me being your artist? We’ve got male tattoo artists as well, just putting that option out there.” She said. The worst thing a tattoo artist could do, besides fuck up a tattoo, was make their client uncomfortable and she didn’t want to do that at all. As she took in the very basic, nondescript tattoo, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. The implication of getting this altered was very, very real to her. “I see. And you’re looking to get something to honor them.” She said mulling the tattoo over. She could think of something already. Maybe adding chains that linked them together? Or some kind of decorative outline? “I know you said you’re not good at creative stuff-- I call bullshit on that, by the way. What kind of things do you like, visually, to look at? That could give me a good idea of what to do, what options I have.”

“Preferred--” Remmy started, confused, then stopped. They still weren’t used to the question and although it came as a surprise, it felt nice, too. To be seen this way. They gave a little shrug. “Uh, just...they. Um, thanks. No! You-- you’re fine. I prefer women.” Paused. “I mean like, for this!” Paused again. “But not that I don’t-- it’s, uh--” snapped their jaw shut. They were rambling again. “Sorry! Sorry. I get uh-- a little nervous.” They should’ve brought Moose, but they weren’t sure he’d like it here, with all the small noises. They watched Luce examine the tattoo, glancing down at their feet again, hands wringing together. “Oh, um, I’m-- I’m really not. Creative. Or like, good at it. Being creative. I just like, you know, looking at nature. And airplanes. I don’t know why, they always look cool to me. Like...I can’t believe someone built this. Of course it’s like a lot of someone’s, but like, someone saw it in their head and designed it and made it real. And like, mechanical things, I guess? I like um, shapes, you know? Like you were saying, that you do. Um...geometric stuff?”

Listening to the way they rambled on, Luce resisted the urge to smirk at them-- if they weren’t a client, she definitely would. But, they were probably just nervous at the prospect of the tattoo alteration. It was a big step, it seemed. And she was going to be here to help them through it. “Noted. On all accounts.” She said with a reassuring smile. “And don’t worry, everyone gets nervous, even if they don’t admit it.” As they began to talk about what things they liked to look at, the things that interested them, Luce pulled out a physical binder of her portfolio and handed it to them. “Why don’t you take a look through this while I do a rough sketch of what I’m thinking? See if anything catches your eye.” Her brain was already churning with ideas for how she could make this tattoo something that wasn’t just a burden, but something… commemorative. A legacy to the bonds of-- hm. That was an idea. Booting up her tablet, she began to do a rough sketch of the dog tags that already existed, and then began to add her own details. Chains, snaking from each tag, coming together, intertwining and then. She glanced over at her client, pursing her lips. It was worth a shot. Luce added another dog tag connected to the four other tags by the winding chains.

Remmy took the binder gratefully and started flipping through it, awed by all the designs she had in there. “You did all of these? They’re...incredible…” Looked up for a moment. “Oh, well, like-- I think I kinda get um-- extra nervous. Especially like, around, well...um.” Cleared their throat. “My friend keeps telling me I need to stop apologizing so much, too…” they trailed off, biting their bottom lip, looking at Luce, then back down at the binder. “Harder to do than it sounds.” After all, Remmy had been apologizing for their existence almost their whole life. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to know that...Sorry. Dammit.” Gave a half chuckle. “See?” They flipped the page and something jumped out to them. It was familiar, it looked sort of like the design they’d seen it on some of the memorabilia their uncle had back home. “Oh, hey-- I kinda like this? It looks kinda like um...that knot thing...celtic knots?” they said, raising the binder to try and show Luce.

“Yup, I did. I’ve been tattooing for 5 years officially, so I’ve got a nice little collection of pieces to show off,” Luce said, eyes still focused on her draft. Mm. That line looked weird. And those chains were off. Switching between reference pictures, she began to add more detail to it, just to give a clearer idea of what she was going for. “Apologize, don’t apologize, all that matters is you’re true to yourself.” She said with a shrug. “But, you’re good. Consider this an apology free zone.” Luce said with a grin. Swiveling around in her chair, Luce looked over at the picture they were holding up. Celtic knots. “Good choice. Those are symbolic of friendship, love, eternity, depending on the one. There’s the Sailor’s Knot, which is more indicative of friendship and the bonds forged tightly. And there’s also the Shield Knot, which is one of enduring protection.” She said, pointing to the two different designs. “Which speaks to you more?”

Huh. That was a weird thought. Remmy nodded. Deirdre had said something like that, too-- just be true to yourself. It was hard, though, to act on that advice when Remmy didn’t know what their true self was, besides dead. They pushed the thought away. “Thanks,” was all they said, a little quieter, before setting the binder down, and looking at the two Luce had pointed out. “I think...the shield one. I like the sound of that one.” Enduring protection. Maybe they had failed their squadmates, but that didn’t mean their memories couldn’t stay to protect Remmy. To remind them that they were never alone. Yeah, that was it, wasn’t it? That’s what they needed. That reminder. It’d been the reason they’d gotten the tattoos, after all, in the first place. “Definitely the second one,” they said more confidently, finally looking Luce in the eyes. It only lasted a second, but they were able to give her a nod, before dropping their eyes back to the binder.

“For sure. And I meant it, you know. Like, my whole job revolves around being true to yourself. Tattoos are reflective of the people who have them, no matter what they are.” Luce said with a firm nod. Her job had allowed her to find her own voice, to speak her mind, and be honest with who she was. And it had been a very long and difficult lesson to learn, but ultimately rewarding. “The shield should work well with what I’m thinking. Give me a bit and I’ll show you the rough draft of what I’ve got. Obviously, it’ll take me more time to get the final design done, but it shouldn’t take too long.” She said. When they looked up and met her gaze, Luce was pleasantly surprised by the determination that she saw there. “You’ve got great eyes, by the way.” She said as she turned back to her design, erasing the original entanglement of chains and pulling up a reference for the shield knot. “Just an artistic observation, that’s all.”

“Oh, yeah, that-that makes sense. I mean...I just kinda figured I’d do it cause it was like, a group thing, we all promised we’d do it,” Remmy said, their mouth once again getting ahead of their brain.”We were kinda young and dumb at the time, though. I don’t think any of us put much thought into it…” They slowed, stopped talking again. “Oh, that’s fine! Yeah, um...take your time. I know I kinda like, sprung this on you. Sorry about that.” They scratched the back of their head, feeling their cheeks grow hot a moment. “I-- great eyes? Do you mean like, for the knot? Cause, like, technically I just liked it cause my Uncle had it around his place a lot. Like, as a symbol? On pictures and like, letterheads. And-- that’s...that’s not important. Sorry.”

“Even if you didn’t, it’s still representative of who you were at the time. Young and dumb isn’t how I’d classify it though,” Luce said as she filled in the intricate loops and connecting lines of the celtic symbol. “You all cared about each other enough to go all in on something like this. That says a lot.” In the brief lull of conversation, Luce began to erase some of her guidelines and added some chain detailing to the shield knot. “Don’t apologize, you’re giving me something to do. It’s my job.” She nodded. Leaning back from the screen, she looked at the draft, frowned, and then began to erase some of her lines. She didn’t like how the chains fed in, if she fixed it here… Better. “I meant you have great eyes. Very nice color.” She said, “No, keep talking. It’s interesting, gives backstory to the piece.”

Remmy didn’t comment on Luce’s observation. She was probably right, but Remmy didn’t want to think about all that right now. They’d just gotten through a big episode of grieving them, crying on Morgan, crying with Skylar, yelling at Blanche...they just didn’t want to think about it anymore. Blinking, Remmy looked up, trying to refocus on the conversation. “Huh? Oh, uh-- I mean...yeah, okay. If you say so.” They picked at a spot on their jeans again, cheeks turning warm. “I, uh-- oh. I do? I mean...thanks? Thanks. I mean thanks. You have nice eyes, too.” Oh, that was weird to say. “I mean pretty eyes! I mean, they look nice! Like...they’re also a nice color. They match your hair, too, and it’s, you-- kinda remind me of someone but like, you have a really pretty face.” Remmy clenched their jaw shut. “Fuck. Sorry. I ramble. So much. A lot. I say stupid things cause like my mouth gets ahead of my brain and I don’t think things through, um-- sorry. Anyway...yeah. My Uncle. He was Irish. So was my mom, I guess. But, like, my Uncle was really into the whole, heritage thing. Showed me what clan we were from and all that. Had our uh...special what it is, like...flag? Or um, crest? On some stuff. And a stamp of it. For letters and letterheads. He gave it to me, but I think I lost it in the move....”

“I do say so, yeah.” Luce said, leaning back to stare at the image for a moment before going back in to get the lines just how she wanted them. She wanted the new dog tag to stand out… Hm. Selecting the image, she rotated it ninety degrees so it was horizontal rather than vertical. Nice. That was more what she wanted. “Thanks. I like to think I’ve got a nice face.” She said, choosing to ignore the comment about her reminding them of someone. They probably meant Bea. Or Nell. Or even her mother. Ugh, not what she wanted to think about right now. “Like I said, talking gives background and meaning, so ramble away.” Listening to them as they talked about their family, Luce added in a few more lines until she was satisfied with the draft. “That’s cool that you’ve got that kind of family background. Who knows, you might find the stamp sometime. Now. How’s this look, just as a rough idea?” She asked, taking her laptop off the desk and bringing it over for Remmy to look at.

Remmy watched Luce with curious eyes as she scratched away on her tablet. They’d never seen anyone use them before, and they’d always wondered how they worked. “Oh, uh, okay. Usually people tell me to stop talking. It’s a bad habit sometimes.” Finally, Luce finished and came over with the laptop. Remmy’s eyes lingered on it, but it didn’t entirely register until they saw the new tag Luce had added. It had their name on it. Intertwined with the knot and the other tags. Remmy didn’t know what to say for a moment. “I-It…” they stuttered a moment, “Yeah. I mean-- yes. Or, it looks great. Perfect. It’s…” they grew quiet. “Perfect.”

“Most people are also assholes.” Luce said bluntly. “You can speak your mind, there’s nothing wrong with it.” She’d spent most of her childhood keeping her thoughts to herself, overshadowed by Bea at first and then by Nell. It had been easier to fade into the background, considering that Bea was the family’s pride and joy and Nell the on-going problem child. But, her job had shifted that perspective, made her realize her thoughts had merit. When Remmy gave their approval, she nodded once. “I’d hope it’s not perfect, this is just the first a draft. Give me a bit and I’ll get the finished product done and we can get to work. Just a heads up. You’ll have to have your binder off for this and you won’t be able to wear it for the rest of today. If that puts you in a bad headspace, we don’t have to do this. You can come back whenever you’re ready.” She said with a nod. “Just want to let you know.”

Remmy shrugged. “Oh, no, I-I don’t think they’re assholes, really. I...I can be a lot sometimes. I get that. Some people just can’t, like, handle it. It’s fine. I don’t mind.” They shifted in their chair as Luce explained the rest of what needed to happen. “Yeah, no-- of course. Not like, perfect perfect. But perfect as in like...perfect design? It-- it’s great. I could never-- I would’ve never been able to come up with something like that. It’s amazing, that could do that, just from, you know...me talking?” They looked down at their lap, hands wringing tightly. If they left, they knew they would never come back. Remmy shook their head. “No, I-- I’m okay. I’ll be okay. I wanna do it today. Let’s-- can we do it today?”

“Suit yourself.” She shrugged as she settled back into her chair, laptop back in place on her work table. Luce stretched her hand out for a moment before going back in on her tablet, making a new layer and beginning the cleaned up version. “Hope you don’t mind if I throw on some music, helps me focus.” She said, as she opened up Spotify and let some blues inspired rock and roll play in the room. The image began to flow from her fingertips, the lines appearing in time to the ebbs and flows of the music. The pounding bassline gave her the solid, clean lines of the new dog tag, the intricate guitar solo forming the celtic shield knot. Piece by piece, note by note, the tattoo came together. Erasing the last couple stray lines, Luce hit the preview button and walked back over to Remmy, flexing her hand slightly. “Anything you wanna change? Speak now or never.”

Remmy gave a nod. “No, that-- that’s fine.” They stayed sitting for the most part, as Luce began drawing up the final draft. They were impressed she was able to get into the zone so quickly, and that she could just...make something like that, from her mind. After a bit, they stood and shuffled around the room a little, looking at all the drawings she had hung up around. The intricate lines, the attention to details in each of the pictures, it made Remmy wish they could do something like that. The only person they’d ever shown their stuff to was Nate. He’d said it was good, but Remmy figured he was just being nice. Their stuff was just observational, they could never do anything like this. When Luce finally finished and came back over, Remmy turned to look at what she’d come up with. “Oh, woah! No way! That’s amazing! I love it. It’s perfect. Like, for real this time. Perfect perfect.” They paused. “Really.”

A genuine smile spread across Luce’s face as she watched Remmy take in the design. The way their face lit up, she knew she’d nailed it, even before they’d answered. Fuck yes. Nothing beat that kind of reaction. This, this was what she loved about her job. The art, yes, but seeing people love something new about themselves? That was special. Of course, she’d never tell anyone that. “Excellent. I’ll need you to take off your shirt and binder so I can get the stencil on there and then we’ll be ready to go.” She said, as she began to print out a couple different sizes of her design, just to see what would work best. While her printer began to spit out the stencils, she pulled out fresh needles for her machine, wiping down the leather of her chair with solution, and grabbing the ink she needed from her large rolling toolkit of supplies. With her back to Remmy, she spoke over her shoulder. “You can either lie down or stay standing while I put the stencil on. Your call.”

“Oh, uh-- I-I’ll lay down…” Remmy answered quickly, swallowing the lump in their throat. They tugged their shirt off and set it down on the chair they’d been sitting in before, folding it up neatly, military style-- It was a habit they still hadn’t been able to break-- before reaching down to remove their binder. Hands shook only slightly as they folded it up as well and set it on top of their shirt. It was somehow both terrifying and reassuring knowing that their body still looked the same, even after dying. Blocking the thought from going any further, Remmy went over to the work chair and sat. They were really doing this. Drawing in a soothing breath, Remmy closed their eyes a moment. This would help. This would help them move on. All of them. Letting the breath go, Remmy turned around and laid down. “Ready,” they said, only a tinge of nerves in their voice.

Luce waited until Remmy gave her the all clear before turning around. It took a few tries to get the stencils lined up properly-- that was the trick of altering a pre-existing tattoo. She had to make sure that everything looked cohesive and coherent, so that it didn’t look like two tattoos smashed together, but one complete image. Making sure all the chains lined up, she stepped back, getting a good look at it from a bit away. She wanted the tattoo to still be legible even from a distance. The spacing looked good, everything read well. Excellent. “Alright.” She said as she pulled on a pair of gloves and set up her machine, “We’re gonna get going, just let me know if you feel light headed or need a break. You can talk to me or just zone out, whatever helps you out.” She said, switching the tattoo machine on before dipping the tip in the ink and setting to work.

Remmy kept quiet as Luce lined up the stencil. They could feel the paper against their back, the slight touch of her hands, and wondered if she had cold hands like them. Or maybe warm hands, like Nell and Bea. It was a weird thing to wonder, but Remmy noticed they’d started wondering that more about everyone they met. Finally, the needle flicked on and Luce sat beside them. Last time, Remmy remembered it hurting a little bit, but even back then, they’d been pretty good at withstanding pain. It was an old feeling, to them. “Oh, yeah...will do. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” they gave a thumbs up and a small smile. “I’m good with pain.” Didn’t even feel her start working. Didn’t even flinch.

Focusing on her work, Luce began to make the outlines, her strokes long and precise. She took care to apply even pressure, shifting with the slight curve of their shoulder as the machine hummed in her hair. But, after the first few brushstrokes, she could tell something was off. How could she not? As she wiped away excess ink with a paper towel, Luce was startled to see the skin she’d just tattooed looking… whole. Complete. As though the ink she’d just put underneath it had been there for at least a month, if not longer. “What--” She started to say, but quickly changed the words, “What made you decide to get this altered? It looks like you’ve had it for a while.” Luce said, making conversation as her eyes remained laser focused on the bizarre image before her. With every swipe of her machine, the buzzing hum, and wipe away, the image remained the same. A healed tattoo. What the fuck? Whatever Remmy was, they weren’t human, they couldn’t be.

Remmy stayed silent as Luce began her work. The thought that anything weird would happen didn’t even cross their mind. They could feel like buzz deep in their chest, but not the pain of the needle. Only the pen, drawing lines across their skin, like their skin was canvas made specifically to pain upon. Remmy had always loved drawing all over their arms as a kid, even their legs, even in school. Sitting bored and alone, they’d turn any piece of showing skin into a continuous line of doodles. Mostly just straight lines and zigzags, swirls and shapes. Luce paused a moment and Remmy stiffened. Was something wrong? “Wha-- oh, um...I’ve had it a couple years but I…” they tried to relax, hands unclenching. “It just felt right? It felt like it was time, I guess. To let them...to let it go.”

As Remmy talked, Luce continued to tattoo their shoulder, still frowning. What the fuck was this person? Their skin felt normal, at least, as far as she could tell. Were they a hunter? Hunters healed quick, she knew that much. Or some other kind of weird creature. She knew just from hanging around Ulfric that werewolves healed quicker than most, but this was like an instant thing. Weird. Definitely weird. But, it honestly made her job a little more interesting, a little faster too. “Mhm. Makes sense. Give yourself closure, but honor them.” She said, as she continued to add base outlines. The lines were coming quick and easy, the ink taking to the skin without problem. And it really didn’t seem as though the tattoo was bothering them-- usually people would flinch a little bit, even if they tried to stay still. “What do you do around town, Remmy?” She asked, making conversation.

“Yeah,” Remmy repeated quietly, “closure.” They knew that altering a tattoo wasn’t going to magically make everything okay, but it was a step in the right direction, right? It had to be. They knew if they could just put this all behind them, everything would be okay. If they could just stop thinking about what had happened. If they could just remember. “Oh, um-- I’m an overnight security guard, mostly. I help my friend around his office, too, for a little extra cash,” they said, remembering they needed to message Nate soon, see how he was doing in all this eternal night stuff. Hoped he was staying safe. “He owns his own architecture firm. It’s pretty neat! He’s a little nervous, though, so I take care of his chores and stuff around town and the office.”

“Night shift security guard and odd jobs? You must drink a lot of coffee.” Luce commented as she finished the last few outlines, completing the new dog tag that would be connected with the others. The shoulder wasn’t a spot that usually bothered people, but when you were working over and over, people tended to at least feel it. And Remmy wasn’t even reacting. Weird. Maybe they just had dead nerves or something? She’d tattooed over scars before, tattooed people who’d been through shit. Maybe that’s what this was. But, why the fuck were the lines healing over so quick? “Nice. Must be nice working for an architect, what with you saying you like buildings.” She said as she added some basic shading.

“Well, the overnight thing is only part time,” Remmy commented. “Plus, I don’t really sleep a lot anyway...gotta do something with my time, right?” They almost shrugged, but stopped themselves. Moving was probably a bad idea. “Oh, yeah! It’s great. I like looking at his stuff. He does a lot of environmental and green design, it’s really neat to see. I never really knew that was a thing till he showed me.” They smiled at the thought. They loved looking at Nate’s stuff and could only wish they could do something like that. “I dunno. I guess I just really like, like..geometric things? Like shapes and lines and tessellations stuff. They just...make sense in my head.”

“Got insomnia or something?” Luce asked, leaning back to take a good look at her handiwork. It was coming along a lot faster than she thought it would. Damn. “Hm. That’s pretty cool. I’m no architect, but I can respect environmental design.” She didn’t know shit about what went into designing a house like that, but it was cool that there was someone in White Crest who did. The designs would probably be really interesting to look at. “Makes sense to you? What do you mean by that?” She asked. The conversation was interesting, but she was mostly asking because it would allow her to be a bit… more intense with her work. She wanted to try something out. Picking a spot that needed to be darker, Luce pressed down, applying just a bit more pressure than she normally would and watched Remmy for a reaction. No matter how macho they were, this would get some kind of response. Most clients acclimatized to the pain and pressure, so if there was a change… they’d notice.

“Something like that…” Remmy mumbled. That’s what the doctor’s had first told them when they’d been in the hospital, but now they were questioning everything about that year and a half alone, recovering. Was anything they’d said true? “It’s super neat! You should check it out sometime. There’s lots of stuff on Google about it.” They turned their head a bit to see if they could see Luce before looking back forward. “Oh, um-- it’s kinda hard to explain? But like...I can like, look at something and know how it all like, works together? Usually mechanical things, or like...um...infrastructure? Or, what do you call the insides of buildings? Uh...foundations! Building foundations. Things with like geometric volumes and stuff. Like I can look at most puzzle boxes and just....know how they work. It’s...I dunno. It just makes sense in my head.” They paused, feeling the increased pressure, but not moving or saying anything, not wanting to mess her up. “How, um-- how’s it going?” they asked after a moment.

“That sucks. I’m in the same boat. Not all the time, but sleeping is,” Luce let out a sigh as she wiped away more ink. “An elusive bitch sometimes.” And moving in with her sisters hadn’t made that any better. At least back in her cabin, she could wander around her house as much as she wanted. She didn’t want to poke her head out of her room and risk running into Nell or Bea in the middle of a fight, so she was stuck in her room most nights. “Don’t move.” She warned, pulling her hand back from their back before resuming once they’d turned in place. Listening to them continue to talk, she squinted in confusion. Was this some kind of supernatural thing? Or were they just super logical? When they didn’t react to the change in pressure, her expression of confusion only deepend. What the fuck. But, when they spoke up, she eased up. “Just had to do some deeper shading. It’s all good. Should be done soon, by the way.” She said

“Oh, I-- I’m sorry. It’s not fun, that’s for sure,” Remmy said back, letting out a little sigh. They’re fingers plucked at a loose thread on the chair. Pausing to hold perfectly still when Luce asked them to, making sure they didn’t mess anything up. They turned their head to rest their cheek against the rest of the chair. Tried to imagine the lines Luce was tracing into their skin, closing their eyes to try and feel the pressure more. Little prickles, but no pain. It felt more like someone was dragging a pencil down their skin. “Oh, uh,” they opened their eyes again, blinking, “no worries! I’m good. But yeah, cool, great! I can’t wait to see it.”

“That’s just how it goes sometimes.” Luce said, eyes focused on the tattoo. The rest of the session went by without any problem, though she still couldn’t figure out why the fuck they were healing so quickly. What the fuck kind of supernatural creature were they? Pushing the thoughts out of her mind, Luce finished up the shading work, kept her hand steady and her pressure nice and light as she got the details just right. And, for good measure, she added the same kind of shading around the original tattoo. She touched up the lines of the dog tags, went over the lettering, and added some depth to the image so it worked with the rest of the tattoo. Shutting off the machine, she wiped off the last bit of ink before standing up. “Alright, we’re all done. Take a look in the mirror and let me know what you think.” Luce said, turning to give them some privacy.

The minutes ticked by slowly, it felt, but in no time at all, Luce was declaring it done. Remmy’s mind had drifted during the lull, thinking back to when they’d all first gotten the tattoos. Darius was originally the most nervous one, and he’d only agreed after Remmy had said they could get theirs together. They’d even held hands during the process, wincing and clenching hands tightly. They were pretty sure he’d bruised their hand but it didn’t matter. They’d done it together. A silent promise. Remmy blinked when Luce finally spoke up again. Shifting slightly, they waited for Luce to turn around before wiping the tears that had gathered behind their eyes and heading over to the mirror, turning to look at it. If it was possible, their breath woulda caught. The intricacy of the design was something to behold. And the way it had turned something so...mechanical into something worth looking at, Remmy could only stare. More tears coming, but they quickly wiped them away again. Now wasn’t the time. “It’s...it’s amazing. You do amazing work,” they finally said, heading back over to their shirt and slipping it on, leaving the binder off for now. They remembered the last time the guy said to not wear anything that would rub for a few days. “I...thank you. So much.”

Luce waited patiently for Remmy to look at the tattoo, taking the opportunity to throw away her gloves and clean up her machine. Silent seconds ticked by, until they spoke up, letting her know that she could turn around. “No worries. Thanks for giving me a cool project to work on.” She said with a nod. It was a better use of her time than just sitting around aimlessly until her next appointment. And she still had time to grab something to eat before she had to get back to work. Grabbing a card and sharpie from her desk, she walked over to shake their hand. “If you ever decide to get another, here’s my card. It’s got a link to my portfolio for you to check out whenever.” Luce wrote down her cell number on the back. “And my number.” Whoever this person was, they were an interesting one. Talking to them outside of work might mean she could figure out what the fuck they were. “Anyways, the gal up front will ring you up, should be about $275.” She said frankly. At the end of the day, job’s a job. And she was getting paid for this.

Remmy took the car gratefully, giving a soft smile. “Thanks! This is great. I’ll definitely check it out and like...let my friends know about you.” They pocketed the card, making sure to keep it safe, looking at Luce. “Um-- thank you, again. It’s-- this was helpful.” They turned to leave again before stopping to look back at Luce. “I, uh-- it was nice to meet you. Really. I hope people stop cancelling on you, cause like, you’re pretty awesome.” They gave a crooked smile before turning to finally head out. “Promise I’ll leave a good tip!” And maybe this had been an impulse, but at least it had been their own decision this time. And maybe it was going to fix everything, but now, at least, it didn’t weigh so heavy on their shoulder anymore.

#p: iai #p: remmy mcallister

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coffee-obsessed-writer · 5 years

Text

When You Least Expect It: Part Five

Jensen x Musician!Reader; Nathan (OMC)

Also featured this chapter: Jared Padalecki, Gen Padalecki, Rob Benedict, Briana Buckmaster, Dee Harris, and mentions of Kim Rhodes, Mark Pellegrino, Jason Manns, Richard Speight, Jr.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

A/N: This is a slow burn fic that I have been working on for a while. Its a story I wrote for myself and just wanted to share with everyone. Yes, the “Dee” in the story is who you think, but there is no intended hate on her or their actual marriage. It is a work of fiction, that is all. Part five is from Y/N’s POV. There is also a playlist to go along with the series. Series Playlist: “When You Least Expect It” (Spotify). Two songs linked in this chapter, “Do I Move You” & “Up Cripple Creek” go back directly to this playlist.

A HUGE shout out to @closetspngirl for putting together Jensen’s & the reader’s gorgeous wardrobe for the NYE party. Also for not only being my beta, but helping me write the G-D thing. Your input, suggestions, and overall inspiration has been a game changer.

Chapter Summary: Reeling from a visit with her Ex while home for Christmas, Y/N goes back to Austin to get ready for the Padalecki’s New Year’s Eve party. That event turns everything upside for both Y/N and Jensen.

Chapter Warnings: Language, Talk of Break-Ups, Angst, Fluff,

WC: You don’t wanna know... Trust me.

*Banner created by me; pics & gifs found online

Y/N stood at the kitchen counter, her fingers gripping the butcher’s block so hard it was turning her knuckles white. She tried to regulate her breathing, which would help slow the relentless pounding of her heart being fueled by the adrenaline rush of seeing Nathan again after so many years.

“It’s really good to see you,” he started, the tenor of his voice instantly drowning her in memories. The quiver that lived beneath it wasn’t lost on her either. In fact, she relished that he was nervous. Y/N hoped he was scared as hell.

“What do you want, Nathan?” she asked, finally turning to face him.

“Just to talk. To—”

“Bullshit. If you wanted to talk, there are phones for that.”

“You would have taken my call?”

“Probably not,” she shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest.

“See. Figured the drop by was better.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket and began to slowly walk around the bungalow. “Wow, the place still looks exactly the same. It's crazy…” he trailed off and snorted a laugh when he gazed at the pictures along the walls. “I actually miss it.”

“What?”

“The bungalow. You. Our life.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and felt the urge to scream at him to go. Her fingers crawled up and once again clutched her charm. “I won’t ask again, Nathan. What do—”

“…I want… yeah, I’m getting there. This isn’t easy, okay?” He sighed dramatically, something he had always done and plopped down onto the couch.

“I couldn’t care less how hard, whatever it is you wanna say, is for you to say. You ran out of sympathy from me when I came home and found every single one of your belongings gone. Hell, even before that. Because of you and your debts that you left me with, I had to borrow ten grand off of Leo. I’m still paying that back!”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m working now and I promise I’ll repay you. I was such a dick for leaving how I did. I was fucked up, babe. I was gambling and drinking and using—I was a mess.”

“I remember,” she sighed, exasperated and tired. She wanted him to go so she could melt back into the happy state she was in just after getting off the phone with Jensen. “So last chance to tell me why you’re here and bringing back those bad memories.”

“They weren’t all bad,” he said with that crooked smile. “We had some good ones.”

“Nathan… if you don’t get to the fucking point, I will call the police and remind them of the restraining order—”

“Ok, ok… I came to try and make amends. I’m twelve stepping my way back to a better life. It’s taken a while, but I’m finally in a good place. I need to apologize for all the terrible things I’ve done. Especially to you. I’ve hurt you—”

“You have,” she interrupted. “Honestly, I don’t know what hurt worse. When you left without a word or when you broke my nose.”

“Y/N—I…” he trailed off again and shrugged pathetically. “I was a horrible person then. I know it’s not an excuse. If I could go back in time and change everything, I would. We’d be married, have kids… we’d have a life together here.”

“Well, thank God you can’t. Look, Nathan, I’m glad you got yourself straight. I am. But my life right now is good, and I wouldn’t want to change a thing.”

“I heard. Got yourself a fancy new job,” he said with a smile, but Y/N knew him well enough that behind that smile was a fit of pure, seething jealousy. It was always there in him; lurking.

“Who spilled the beans?”

“Leo. I ran into him last week when I got back. I asked about you, and he said that you had moved to Austin temporarily for work.”

“Did he?” She reminded herself to thank him for that later. “Well, then you know I’m busy. I’m only home for a couple days—”

“He said a week.”

“Leo was wrong. I’m cutting the trip short. I have an event to go to on New Year’s that I need to get back for.”

“Oh,” he replied. There was a lot packed into that ‘oh’. “Y/N, I know I don’t deserve to ask you for anything. But for a long time, we loved each other. We’ve been together since we were kids. Me, you… Dave. We were a little family, especially after your mom left.”

The mention of her mother and brother turned her stomach.

“If you want to apologize, bringing up my mother and dick of a brother isn’t the way to go.”

“Dave isn’t a bad guy. I know he did some shitty things, but babe, he’s your brother. He loves you.”

Y/N finally moved from where she was frozen in place and slowly walked into the living room. “You still talk to him?”

Nathan nodded. “I do. He misses you, asks about you. A lot.”

“Good. I hope that shit for brains realizes now that I will never talk to him again.”

“I still don’t understand why.”

“You don’t understand... Nathan, you were here for the bullshit they put me through after dad died. That bitch swooped in and took my entire inheritance! If not for Leo buying the bungalow from her, I would have been homeless. Then, to find out later that my so-called loving brother, HELPED HER?!” Y/N was shaking now. The act of dredging up these memories was not exactly how she wanted to spend Christmas morning; especially not after it started so well.

“Babe…” Nathan consoled and rose from the couch to come closer to comfort her.

“STOP CALLING ME BABE!”

Nathan froze in place and swallowed hard. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I just came here to try and apologize. For everything I’ve done. I was supposed to be the one person you could trust, who protected you. I’m sorry that I failed you.”

Much to her own surprise, Y/N didn’t cry. She wanted too, but she wouldn’t in front of Nathan. There had been enough tears shed for him over the course of twenty years. Her phone began to buzz from deep within her robe’s pocket. She tried to ignore it, but just before it stopped ringing, she pulled it out and saw Jensen’s name flashing on the screen.

Without hesitation, she answered the call. “Hey,” she greeted and hoped there wasn’t any residual tension in her tone. “Miss me already?”

Nathan’s head picked up, his gaze intense and curious. But he saw the warning look Y/N passed him and forced himself to stay quiet.

“If I did?” Jensen asked playfully. “No, I was calling to tell you that as soon as we hung up, Jared called me to say Merry Christmas and all that. I asked him about the party and his exact words were ‘whatever makes you happy, doesn’t matter so’s long as you’re there’. So there’s your dress code.”

Despite her current mood, she laughed. “Well, that doesn’t help at all.”

“Yeah, I know…” he hesitated for a beat, “are you alright? You don’t sound as chipper as you did twenty minutes ago.”

“Um, yeah. I’m fine,” she lied and tried to put herself together. “Just getting ready for the day, you know.”

“Sure? If you wanna talk, or—I can find a quiet spot and—”

“No, Jay, it's fine. Really. I do gotta run though. Few things I need to wrap up,” she said and hoped he would take it as wrapping last minute gifts for the holiday.

“Ok.” She could tell instantly he didn’t believe her. “Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind. Talk soon?”

“Yeah, definitely. Enjoy your day and if you talk to Jared again, or Robbie, tell them I said Merry Christmas.”

“Will do, bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Jay.”

She ended the call and kept the phone hovering near her mouth, almost as if she was trying to hide from Nathan.

“Who’s Jay?”

“Jensen. He’s my boss,” she answered then slipped the phone back into her robe.

“Jensen? Some name,” he sneered. “And he calls on Christmas morning? What a pretentious dick.”

“Fuck off, okay? You don’t know him.”

“I do though. He sounds like every rich, asshole Bennie that tears up our beach every summer. Comes down with his crap, his money and thinks he gets whatever he wants—”

“Nathan! You wanna apologize, make amends? Attacking my friend will not help accomplish that.”

“Your friend? I thought he was just your boss.” Realization dawned on him then, and she noticed his body stiffen. “You have a thing for him, don’t you?”

She didn’t expect that and stammered before she could find the words she wanted. “I—no, he’s been a good friend. It's business. That’s all. Besides, you put me through enough. I couldn’t deal with anyone else after you.”

Nathan cast his eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I never intended for you to be hurt so badly. I never wanted for you to hate me.”

“Yeah, well. Your intentions don’t mean shit, Nathan. Look, I should hate you… but I don’t. God only knows why, but I don’t. You’re right, we did have some really great memories. Being friends since we were little kids and all the years we spent together as a couple; it’s not lost on me. Even though you left like a coward after you hit me—”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you… I needed the money and—” he stopped himself from going down that path. “It’s not an excuse. I should never have touched you, especially not at the club. Mama Mia nearly put me in the hospital that night.”

“You deserved it.”

He nodded and let her continue.

“Anyway, all that aside, I’m just in a place where I don’t want to be with anyone, Nathan.” Y/N paused and realized now she was not only lying to him, but to herself. “I appreciate your wanting to make amends. I’m glad the twelve-step thing is working for you, and that you’re here for your mom for Christmas.”

“But?”

“But, nothing. I am honestly glad for you and for your mom. She didn’t need to lose you.”

“What about us?” he asked hesitantly, bringing his bright blue eyes to meet hers. For the briefest moment, she could see what she used to see in them; kindness, compassion, and hope making him look more like the first boy she ever loved.

“Us?” Y/N laughed and sighed all in one breath. “Nathan there is no ‘us’. That ship sailed years ago. But I am glad that you’re getting your life back together.”

His phone pinged from down in his jeans pocket. “That’s probably my mom wondering when I’ll be back. She’s got breakfast waiting.”

“Then you should go.”

“Do you wanna come with? I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

“No, I promised Leo I would be there today.”

“When do you go back to… Austin is it?”

“Yes, Austin. In a few days. I have some work to do while I’m here…”

“So, in other words, you aren’t free on this trip to make any plans with me.”

Y/N nodded. “I’m sorry. Maybe another time.” She once again crossed her arms over her chest. It was a mannerism Nathan knew well; she was putting up her wall, and while he couldn’t blame her, he felt his hopes of any reconciliation being quickly dashed.

“Could I, maybe, call you from time to time?”

She exhaled slowly, expelling the breath through pursed lips. “Nathan…” pausing when she saw the seemingly honest, pleading look in his eyes. “Sure. But, if it becomes obsessive, or intrusive…”

He held up his hands in relent. “I promise, it won’t. I just…” he took a few tentative steps closer to her. As he approached, she took one step back and he stopped; afraid he was scaring her. “I just want to get to know you again. This you. I still love you, Y/N. I know you don’t love me, but at least give me the chance to prove to you that I’ve changed. That I can be the guy you used to love. Or at least the one you used to like.”

His phone pinged again.

“You should go, Nathan. Tell your mom I said Merry Christmas.”

Nathan nodded and went towards the door. “I’m not gonna ask you to wait, but maybe you don’t rule me out completely.”

“Rule you out of what?” she asked.

“Your future.” He lingered for a moment longer, then left and quietly closed the door behind him.

The daylight hours of New Year’s Eve was packed with errands, including trying to find something appropriate to wear to Jared and Gen’s New Year’s Eve party. Jensen didn’t exactly help with his recon efforts; having the perimeters of “whatever makes you happy” to go by wasn’t much to go on. Finding nothing while in New Jersey, she frantically searched for any shop that was open in downtown Austin on her way home from the airport.

Finally, in the very last shop, she found the perfect one. The moment she laid her eyes on the turquoise colored dress with a lace overlay from the neck to the hem, she fell in love. It was a little fancier than she’d normally go for, but attending this party in one of the most beautiful Country Clubs in Austin seemed like the occasion to do so.

Once all the accessories had been chosen, Y/N rushed back to her townhouse to shower and get ready. As the hot water cascaded down through her hair, she closed her eyes and thought about the last few days back home. She had finally gotten to a place where her life didn’t feel so suffocated, where she could have reconciled her past while looking towards the future. Now she was uncertain if she would be able to ever really move on from Nathan, or if she would always be scared because of the marks he’d left on her heart.

For the next few days, she went on an emotional journey that she knew had to be done, but not one she expected just then. Nathan had been such a big part of her life since she was a kid; he’d been there through some of the worst times to comfort her and support her. It was also true that he was the root cause for a lot of bad times, and though he was the one that made the bad choices, got wrapped up in things he shouldn’t have… wasn’t there a part of him that was still the same boy that held her through the night her mother left, then her brother and again when her father died?

Y/N turned off the shower and wiped away the steam on the mirror. As she watched her reflection in the glass, Jensen’s face floated into her mind’s eye. His beautiful green eyes, full, round lips, the way that he smiled at her made her breath hitch and her skin tingle in ways that felt extraordinary. Mostly, it was how he made her feel calm and in control; like she could accomplish anything she wanted. Yet, whenever she allowed herself moments to daydream about him, and what it would be like to be with him, fear set in and she would pull away.

“You’re a fucking mess,” she accused at her reflection. “Seriously, get your shit together (Y/L/N). You have a gorgeous, generous, amazing man about to pick you up for a fancy party. You got a new dress, new shoes and a wonderful night ahead. Don’t self-sabotage before you even get in the car.”

She gave herself an affirmative nod, tightened the towel around her chest and moved away from the mirror to get finish getting ready. Halfway out of the bathroom she paused and went back to the mirror.

“Also, don’t let Nathan and his bullshit ruin a good night. He’s not here, he won’t be here. It’s just you, Jensen and a hundred of his closest friends. If anything is going to freak you out, it should be that.”

Y/N hung her head dramatically and sighed. No matter how hard she tried not to think about Nathan, he was just there now, living somewhere in the recesses of her mind and slowly inching his way back to the forefront.

Two hours later, when Y/N heard the knock at the first door, she looked over at the stove clock and realized it could only be Jensen. Seven on the dot… Mr. Punctuality. Y/N took a deep, calming breath, nerves quickly igniting as to how things may change if she opened that door. She froze with her hand on the knob.

You should say you’re sick… jet lag? No, stupid, it’s only an hour time difference, jet lag wouldn’t--

He knocked again. Stopping the freight train of doubt that ran on a constant loop, she exhaled slowly and opened the front door.

“Hey!” Jensen greeted upon seeing her. “You ready to…” he trailed off as he noticed how she looked and took a moment to drink her all in. Jensen was dumbfounded, as his eyes glazed over her from how her hair was twisted up off her neck, to the color of the dress and how it hugged her just right, flowing out to a skirt that fell a few inches above her knees. She was wearing heels, and as he admired how her legs looked while wearing them, he realized he’d never seen her in anything but her old sandals.

“Wow… You--you look amazing,” he breathed. “I--that’s not even the right word. You--”

His gaze softened the longer he looked at her; and the more he looked, the more she was becoming affected by his stare.

“Ok, ok. Easy tiger. It’s just a dress,” she laughed but was barely holding it together as she noticed how good he looked, as well. Jensen showed up dressed in a black sport coat and slacks, beneath it, a nicely fitting shirt that complimented his strong and lean figure. The color of which, just happened to be a shade off of matching her dress perfectly.

“Hey, we match!” she smiled, lighting up her whole face. “People are going to think we did that on purpose.”

“Fuck ‘em,” he said, the corners of his mouth pointing down. “Besides, no one in that whole place will even notice me once you walk into the room.” He waggled his eyebrows and moved aside so she could walk out.

“You’re such a dork,” she teased and rolled her eyes. “Though, I gotta say,” she paused and spun back around for a minute to face him, “you do clean up pretty nice yourself, Hollywood.”

Heading towards the party venue, Y/N was quiet. She could feel Jensen continuing to steal glances in her direction. He had never been shy before about asking her something when it was on his mind, but now he hesitated. She finally caught his gaze and sighed.

“You want to ask me something, so ask,” she said, startling him with her accuracy.

“Alright… what happened on Christmas?”

Boy, he’s blunt, she thought. She furrowed her brow and tried to play it off like she didn’t know what he was talking about. “What do you mean?”

“C’mon Y/N. I talked to you and you were… you. Twenty minutes later I called back and you were completely different.” Jensen’s eyes flickered back and forth between her and the road. “Then, I don’t hear from you all week. Just seemed like maybe something was wrong.”

Y/N could just brush him off, she thought about it. She didn’t want to get into a big conversation about Nathan solely because it would lead back to their past and she didn’t want to go back to that headspace. She also didn’t think brushing him off was the best idea. Jensen was more than just a colleague now, he was her friend; a friend that she had come to care about very much.

She swallowed nervously, her tongue darting over her polished lips. “I had an unexpected visitor after I hung up with you. Just an old… someone, that I wasn’t expecting to see.”

“Oh,” he replied, his eyes now transfixed on the road ahead. “A recent, old, someone?” he asked, and thankfully she caught his meaning.

“Yes. Sort of. It’s been a few years.”

“Oh,” he said again, this time as more of a sigh of relief. “How did it go?”

“It went. He just wanted to catch up. He was in town visiting his mom and had run into Leo. I guess Leo told him about Austin, and he wanted to say congrats on the new gig.”

“Ah.” Jensen’s gaze drifted to catch her expression. Y/N appeared unaffected, but there was something in her eyes that told him that maybe wasn’t the whole truth. “Exes… huh?” he quipped and tried to get her to smile. “I got one, too.”

“An ex?”

“Yup.”

“Don’t we all?”

Jensen laughed. “I guess.”

“How recent is yours?”

“Last Spring. I got back from a con and came home to an empty house. She was just, gone.”

“Ouch,” Y/N winced, knowing the pain of that feeling. “Did you ever find out why?”

His reaction took her off guard. Jensen smirked, then it faded and his eyes seemed to drift a million miles away. She saw him force the lump in his throat down to a place where it wouldn’t stop him from choking on the words that he tried to say.

“She… uh,” he snorted a laugh, “she met someone else.”

“Oh,” she breathed, waited for a beat, then muttered. “She’s an idiot.”

Jensen’s lips formed a tiny little grin of satisfaction and gave Y/N the hint that he heard her after all.

“Well, I’m sorry your Christmas was ruined by an ex,” he said, turning the subject back to her.

“It wasn’t ruined,” she replied quietly and cast her gaze out of the passenger side window. Her hand went to her neck, to where the necklace had resided since she clasped it around there Christmas morning. “Got to open the best present I ever received while watching the sunrise over the ocean.” Turning her attention back to him, her features softened as she lifted the charm from her neck. “That’s what I’ll remember most from this Christmas.”

The Country Club was far larger than Y/N thought it would be. Even in the shadows of the evening, she could see how beautiful and expansive the grounds and golf courses were. It was lit up in soft whites and golds, and there was a buzz of activity in and around the entrance.

After the valet parked the car, Jensen linked his elbow with hers and escorted her inside. Her nerves were starting to show, barely, but they were there. She’d been to more than enough events like this for Leo’s business, and she’d played the boardwalk stage to a crow of a few hundred people. Somehow, this was more nerve-wracking, and Jensen could feel it radiating off her.

“Hey,” he whispered but kept his eyes focused ahead. “You know this is low-key, right?”

“You mean despite the fact that the party is in Wayne Manor? I swore that was Alfred who parked the car.”

Jensen laughed. “Yes, despite that. These are all just friends, wearing fancier than normal clothes.”

“Your friends. I know them through Skype or email.”

“They’re gonna love you. Alright? Robbie already does. He won’t shut the hell up about meeting you tonight.”

“Says you. I feel like I’m going on an audition and this is my call back for the role of Celebrity Assistant…”

“Hey,” Jensen interrupted and pulled her to a stop. “You know that’s not what you are, right? It’s important to me that you know that.” Using her own words against her made her relax a little. “You’re not my assistant. You work with me. And as for tonight, well darlin’, you are simply my date and easily the most stunning woman in the room.”

His features relaxed, the small bunches of wrinkles deepening around his eyes and the peek-a-boo dimples on the corners of his mouth showing themselves. “Relax, have a drink, dance a little and have a damn good time.”

“I thought we established that me dancing is hazardous to everyone’s health,” she joked, feeling her nerves dissipate a little.

“Hey, it's New Year’s Eve. If you can’t do something new and out of your comfort zone on a night like tonight… then you never will. Besides, I am way worse at dancing than you. I’m more than happy to prove it. After a drink or two, that is.”

Y/N exhaled as steadily as she could and straightened her shoulders back and tightened her linked arm around Jensen’s. She was going to make the most of the night and go in with her head held high; ready to push herself well beyond her limits.

They breached the entryway and stepped into the main room where the Padalecki’s were hosting a jam-packed New Year’s Eve party. Faces were floating by at a rapid pace, some she recognized, some she didn’t. Names were thrown at her, and she smiled at each one, shaking hands with those who offered and returning polite smiles to those she didn’t. It was overwhelming and yet exhilarating, especially when Jensen was introducing her as the Music Director for FBBC’s Hometown Music & Brew Fest. For the first time in her life, she was being looked upon as someone respected; someone who was spending their time trying to make a difference; not slinging drinks, not pushing papers or hustling pool just to make ends meet. What made it even more special, was having him be the one who helped her find this place in the world.

“Well it’s about time!” a woman’s voice squealed over the music piping in through the generously spaced out speakers. As you both spun around, you saw a beautiful, petite woman with long dark brown hair and eyes the color of dark chocolate. “I was starting to think you were going to be late, Jensen. You’re never late!”

“C’ mon Gen, you know better than that,” he laughed and released her arm to embrace Gen and leave a kiss on her cheek. “Where’s the big jerk you married?”

“Oh, mingling, you know him. I’m sure he’s got half the place in hysterics already,” she laughed. When she turned her attention to Y/N, her eyes grew wide and she clapped in excitement. “You must be Y/N! It’s so good to meet you in person! This one doesn’t shut up about you or the festival. I think he may have imploded if you didn’t come on to help.”

“I’m just glad I could contribute something,” Y/N replied. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Gen.”

“Have you met everyone else yet?” she asked excitedly, taking Y/N’s arm much the way Jensen did and led her away into one of the rooms that jettisoned off the ballroom. “I think they’re all hiding away in here.”

She led Y/N in, with Jensen following closing behind. The room Gen lead them into was large enough to fit approximately twenty people comfortably, with a baby grand piano at the center. There were windows along the back wall that overlooked the deserted golf course, but the cream and deep beige draperies were pulled and hid the view from the party goers. In each corner, was a tall, potted decorative tree, with hanging white lights that cast an ambient glow over the room. Scattered throughout the room were overstuffed armchairs and a few leather love seats. A perfect place to sit and listen to someone play on the baby grand while enjoying the view of the grounds.

Y/N searched the handful of faces that were standing around the piano but none were too familiar. The moment Gen spoke, the man at the keys stopped playing. When he stood, Y/N smiled wide, instantly recognizing Robbie as he started walking over to them.

“Hey man!” Rob greeted Jensen excitedly. “Was getting worried about you! Thought you were gonna stand me up.”

“I could never do that to you, Rob. You know I love you too much,” Jensen teased, giving Rob a wink. “But, if I tell you Y/N is here to finally meet you, do you forgive me?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he grinned and reached out for Y/N’s hand, bringing the back of it to his lips and giving it a barely-there-kiss. “It is a pleasure to finally see your face sans computer screen.”

“It really is,” she said, trying not to giggle at his overindulgent greeting.

Robbie kept her hand and began to move her away from Gen and Jensen. “Here, let me introduce you to the whole gang.”

Jensen just shook his head, his arms open wide and mouthing, “Really?”

Ignoring him, Robbie pulled Y/N around the room and one by one introduced her to people from both the show and the regular con circuit. Y/N’s head spun as she met Jason Manns, Kim Rhodes, Richard Speight, Jr., and Mark Pellegrino among others. It took nearly twenty minutes to make the rounds and by the time Rob had brought Y/N full circle, Gen and Jensen were no longer alone. Jared had just joined the small group, drink in hand and a smile that was more forced than genuine.

Jared leaned closer to Jensen’s ear just as you sidled up next to him. “Hey, I need to talk to you,” he whispered.

Jensen furrowed his brow and snapped his gaze up to catch Jared’s eye. They had a silent exchange, one that could only happen between two people who knew each other explicitly well. When Jensen turned back to Y/N, she waved him off before he could even speak.

“Go, I’m fine. I have Rob to keep me company,” she said, not without a little spunk.

“Hands above the waist, Rob. Remember you’re with a lady, not one of your women of the night,” he warned and gave Y/N’s shoulder a little squeeze before he was whisked off by his best friend.

“I should go check on everything in the kitchen. Will you be alright?” she asked Y/N.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Rob interjected.

Gen shook her head and gave Y/N an apologetic smile. “Welcome to our weird, little family. Please don’t judge us solely on our Robbie.” She patted Rob’s arm lovingly before turning and heading back out through the ballroom.

“She’s one hell of a lady. Throws a damn good party, too. Come on, let’s mingle.”

Jensen followed Jared down the long clubhouse corridor and down to the double doors that led into the game room. Once inside, Jared shut the door but didn’t bother with turning on the lights.

“What’s up?” Jensen asked. “I barely got in the door, didn’t even get a drink yet.”

“Here, have mine. You’re gonna need it.” Jared held out his glass of bourbon. “I tried to get a hold of you earlier--”

“Why?”

“Because man, Gen invited Dee. She’s coming, and she’s not coming alone.”

Jensen sighed heavily, his head rolled back on his neck and his mouth hung open. “Fuck. Really?”

“Mhm. I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I mean, I know they still talk and hang out, but, I didn’t think she was going to invite her.”

Jensen gulped down the rest of the bourbon from the glass, wincing at the burn as it hit his throat. He turned abruptly and headed through the game room to the small bar that was kept there. Rummaging through the bottles, he found a bottle of Jim Beam and refilled the glass.

“Is he here with her?”

Jared nodded. “I don’t know. I just know she’s coming.”

“Does Dee know I’m here?”

Jared shrugged. “Gen and I… we try not to talk about her with each other.”

Jensen considered this and shrugged, too. “I hate that what happened between me and her put you guys at odds.”

“It really didn’t, not until times like this.”

“You know what? It’s fine. Not like I’m here alone, right?”

“Right. About that… You’ll have to introduce me properly when we head back.”

“I will,” he said, and just knowing that Y/N was out there waiting for him, suddenly made the Dee situation seem somewhat tolerable.

“What was that?” Jared asked, looking at him curiously. “What did you just do with your face?”

Jensen scrunched his face in ignorance. “What… face?”

“That face! That face you make when you get all dreamy and shit.”

“Dreamy fa--” Jensen scoffed. He was getting flustered, so he drained his glass. “Shut up.”

“Ha!” Jared laughed and clapped Jensen’s shoulder. “So, you gonna be able to be cool with Dee?”

“As a cucumber,” he promised.

Jensen had disappeared with Jared, Gen had disappeared back into the crowd of people in the ballroom, and Rob had just disappeared. Somewhere in the middle of crossing the big room’s dance floor, Y/N had lost him and when she broke through the sea of people, she didn’t want to go back in. Meandering alone through the party, she felt suddenly out of place and all her earlier nerves settling back in for the long haul.

She wished Jensen would come back from wherever he disappeared too. But as the minutes ticked by, Y/N found herself back in the room with the baby grand. It was completely empty now that the music had stopped; for this, she was suddenly grateful. As she slowly walked along its side, she ever-so-lightly dragged her finger against the ebony lacquer of the lip then followed along the edge and down to the keys.

Y/N hadn’t seen or touched a piano of this caliber for a lot of years. Guitar had been her true love since she was five years old, the piano came later. When she was little, and her mother was still around, she would take her to the most luxurious of all Leo’s hotels up in the wealthy area of Spring Lake. These were the ones with professional piano players in the lobby and a bellhop that came when you rang. Y/N would sit for hours, watching that old man with the sandy blonde hair play the keys like a magician, and pulling some of the most glorious melodies she’d ever heard.

Her mother was a maid back then, cleaning and stealing from most of the rooms upstairs. Leo would find Y/N a lot of times left alone, sitting in the lobby and listening to the piano and felt sorry for her. On her seventh birthday, Leo bought her a small electronic keyboard to practice on. She took to it easily, and by the time she was ten, was recording tracks on the keyboard, they play along with them on guitar.

She exhaled softly as she slid onto the bench and smoothed out her skirt. Just as she hovered her fingers over the keys, and pressed the first few, she was no longer alone in the room.

“Found you! Took me damn long enough…”

Y/N’s head snapped up, to see a beautiful blonde woman, with long, wavy curls approaching her. Her big, dimpled smile lit up the room the second she entered, and Y/N couldn’t stop admiring her.

“I tried to wrangle Robbie before when he was parading you through the room, but that little man is too fast for me!” She sat down on the bench beside Y/N in an exasperated huff. “Woo! I’m beat and it isn’t even midnight yet! I’m Briana, by the way. Briana Buckmaster. You’re, Y/N, right? Working the music side of Brewfest? I’ve heard a lot about you from Robbie.”

“He’s one hell of a cheerleader,” Y/N said. Something was familiar about her, but she couldn’t put her finger on where. “Are you doing work for it as well? You just seem so familiar, but I can’t…” as she trailed off, it hit her why. “You have an album of covers out, right?”

Briana was taken aback, her sweet smile dimpling as it grew. “I do! You’ve heard it?”

“Hell yeah! Back in Jersey, I was a musical director for a burlesque group. Some of the girls were playing it for a routine. It was hot. Your voice is seriously magic.”

“Burlesque? How fucking cool are you? Did we just become best friends?” she roared with a throaty laugh and threw an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “And here I was just coming over to ask you about Jensen. Had no idea I’d find a fan and a new friend in the mix!”

“You definitely have a fan in me, Briana.”

“Oh please, call me Bri, everyone does. This dress, gorgeous, by the way. And please tell me that Jensen matched you on purpose because I will both love him and tease him for eternity because of it!”

“No! It wasn’t on purpose. But I knew someone would think it was.”

“I guess you two are just on that wavelength, huh?” she wiggled her eyebrows and poked Y/N’s arm with her elbow. “I did see you guys when you walked in together.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. So, you gotta tell me something,” she said and leaned in a little closer. “How good a kisser is he? Cause, I may be married, but I ain’t dead. And that boy is… mmm mmm!”

“I don’t--I haven’t… We’re not…” Y/N laughed nervously shook her head slightly, trying to shake the embarrassment off and form a complete sentence. “We’re just friends, we work together on the festival. That’s all.”

“Oh, I see,” Bri said and cleared her throat before turning back to Y/N. “You guys are in the denial stage! Ok, I get it.”

“What? No! It’s…” Y/N searched for the right word. Damn this woman is perceptive, she thought before finding the winner. “It’s complicated.” she sighed, surprising herself that she gave any kind of real answer.

Y/N was instantly comfortable with Briana. Her spirit and fiery personality felt familiar, and something she’d been lacking in her life since leaving New Jersey months before. She felt that she could say something like that to this virtual stranger because she felt like Bri wouldn’t be a stranger for much longer.

“Yeah well, complicated can work itself out,” she nudged her shoulder into Y/N playfully, then motioned down towards the keys. “You play?”

“I do,” she replied, relieved Bri moved the subject off of Jensen for the moment.

“What do you like to play?” she asked, but not in the way where one is curious. She asked because she looked like she was scheming.

“Just about anything really. Why?”

Bri slid out off the bench and walked around to stand in the curve of the piano. “You sing, too, right?”

“I do,” Y/N replied and started to play with the keys around middle C. Finding the melody of something soft but familiar. “Robbie tell you that?”

“Nope. Jensen did. Did he tell you that he sings as well?”

Y/N’s fingers froze and her breath caught in her chest. “No… he didn’t.”

Bri’s face light up as she leaned against the piano, letting her hands slide along the edges in each direction. “Oh, he does. And he sings, goooood.”

She forced her fingers to continue playing the song. As she played on, she didn’t realize the song that she’d been playing just then was the same one she had been strumming on the guitar the morning Jensen shared her sunrise.

‘Ooo-ooo-ooo honey, you’re the one that I want...’ Y/N sang silently along to the melody in her head.

“I know this one… I did a stint as Rizzo at the Citadel Theater,” Bri squealed excitedly. “This was a fun one to perform.”

“Pink lady here,” Y/N laughed, and quickly changed up the melody, not wanting that one to get wedged in her head again. After she played it that morning, it stuck with her for days after. But instead of it making her think of the play, now it just reminded her of sitting on the floor with Jensen and talking through the night.

“But I wanted to play Rizzo,” Y/N continued. “She’s clearly the most relatable.”

“We really are kindred spirits! So, new friend…” she brought her arms back to center, and rested her elbows on the piano, cradling her chin in her palms. “Play me something.”

Y/N thought for a moment and began to pick up a melody. Bri’s eyes lit up as she recognized the beginning notes to “Do I Move You.” They exchanged a knowing glance; Y/N knowing this had been one of Bri’s covers, and Bri realizing that Y/N chose it for that reason.

Starting it acapella, Bri sang the first line, “Do I move you?”

Y/N played, finding the groove of the song. It wasn’t hard for her, all she needed was a place to start and she could slide right into it.

“Are you willing? “Do I groove you? Is it thrilling? Do I soothe you? Tell the truth now… Do I move you? Are you loose now? The answer better be…” Bri drew out the last word, soft and sultry and looked to her accompaniment to finish the first verse with her.

“That pleases meeeee….” They sang together.

The song played on, just the two of them at the moment. The party noises were all but a second thought, as these two new friends found an easy rapport with each other through the music. With every few lines, Y/N increased the tempo of the melody, her fingers beginning to move across the keys with speed and accuracy. She was ensconced in playing and vibing with Bri, relishing in the rich grit and tenor of her voice. Both of them solely just going with the song and building it from an intimate conversation to an all-out war cry with the depth, and fullness of Bri’s bravado.

“When I touch ya? Do you quiver? From your head right down to your liver If you like it, let me know it Don’t be psychic or you’ll blow it The answer better be…. Great God Almighty, that pleases meeeee….”

Bri hit the last note in her full voice and a roar of applause ripped through the room. If Bri had seen the people funnel in, Y/N didn’t know; but she hadn’t. Getting so lost in playing freely, not worrying about anything more than feeling the song at that moment, she had no idea that the small music room had filled up with at least twenty different people. Among them, Jensen and Rob, whistling and clapping along with everyone else.

Jensen stood at the opposite end of the piano, holding Y/N’s gaze as the small crowd began rumblings of play more, something else, keep going… the way he watched her made her nervous, yet euphoric. Y/N could feel him beaming with pride, and while she didn’t play with him in mind, it made her feel good to know he got to see her play.

“Hot damn, girls!!” Rob shouted over the crowd. “I knew this was gonna be a good night! You’re amazing!” he ran over and planted a big kiss on Bri’s cheek, then Y/N’s. “I’ll be right back, don’t move!” He was excitable and bouncing all over the place, then finally disappeared back into the crowd.

Y/N took the chance to slide out from behind the piano. Bri grabbed her the minute she was upright and pulled her into a hug.

“That was fucking fantastic!” she squealed and gave Y/N a squeeze. “We have got to hang out and do that again sometime.”

“I am down for that anytime. Your voice… that rasp you have. I’d kill for that.”

“Don’t let her fool you Bri,” Jensen said, rejoining them. “This girl has got some soul when she sings.”

“Oh, I believe it,” she said, “I just can’t wait to hear it.”

“Another time, maybe? Come by my place here in Austin. We can sit around and gig all day if you like. I am happy to spend an afternoon like that.”

Jensen opened his mouth to say something, but Rob’s re-entrance into the room caused some commotion. The moment he walked in with two guitars in hand, the chatter grew again. Rob handed one of the guitars off to Jason and someone else had already slid behind the piano. Stopping at a handful of the guys, including Jensen, he whispered something quick in their ear and went back to stand near the piano.

“Be just a second,” he said as he placed a hand on each of Y/N’s shoulders as he slid around behind her through the people, giving her a gentle squeeze as he did.

The guitars started, piano joined in, and Y/N picked up the first few beats of The Band’s “Up On Cripple Creek”. Bri squeezed in close and tapped her arm.

“I love when they do this song,” she whispered. “Just wait, you’re gonna love it too.”

The moment Jensen’s voice filled the room, Y/N’s mouth fell open at the sound of it; completely in shock with what she was hearing. He sang the first verse, while his friends picked at the guitars and played along on the piano. Jensen kept up with them effortlessly, though his attention was fully on Y/N. From the first line, he locked eyes with her, keeping a grin at bay while he sang his verse. He had a soul and a tone to his voice that tickled the deepest part of her, arousing both the creative and the lustful sides of her. Y/N didn’t know what to expect when Bri told her Jensen could sing, but it certainly wasn’t that.

The song went on, but Jensen just continued to sing along with the chorus, letting each of the other guys take another verse. When it was over, the crowd once again strongly approved of the impromptu performance. Y/N subtly backed her way through the crowd and back out into the corridor to get some air, still reeling from how good Jensen could really since. She saw him shaking hands, making pleasantries and small talk as he made his way towards her.

When he broke through the barrier of people, his arms were outstretched low and he was smiling. “You’ve been holding out on me, Trix. You can play…”

Y/N snorted a laugh. “You can sing!”

Jensen shrugged, not just with his shoulders, but his entire face. “I guess we’ve both been holding out, huh?”

“Looks that way,” she loosely crossed her arms under her breasts and gave him a challenging look. “Feels like maybe we should rectify that.”

Jensen thought about it for a minute, then held out his hand for her to take. “Come on. Let’s get a drink.”

“Good God, yes please…” she sighed and took his hand without hesitation, happily following along beside him as he whisked her through the ballroom.

The next hour or so was spent drinking and eating with people coming and going from the table. Around the third whiskey sour, and multiple helpings of the barbeque pork potato cups, apple brie crostini and mini beef wellingtons, Y/N needed to stand and stretch, allowing the food to settle.

“You alright?” Jensen asked, standing up too, reaching for her elbow to hold her steady.

“Yeah, fine. Just head rush from the booze. Also, this dress wasn’t made for gorging oneself on whiskey and crostinis.”

“Lightweight,” he teased.

“Hey, I don’t live in a brewery, okay? It doesn’t take much to get me--”

“Drunk?”

“Unencumbered,” she corrected.

Jensen leaned closer. “Does this mean I could maybe convince you to dance with me now?” his voice was low and raspy as if it had been denied water for days.

“Let me venture to the ladies’ room first. It is getting close to midnight after all. Then when I get back, we’ll see…” she narrowed her eyes at him.

When he narrowed his eyes back at her, mimicking her expression, she felt her breath begin to get shaky. “Hurry back. Or I’ll tell them to play the Macarena.” Jensen began to do the dance, but subtly, just enough to tease her with.

“Don’t think for a second I wouldn’t whip out my phone and record you doing it,” she warned. “It would be a nice addition to my video collection.”

He stopped cold and stood still. “So, that’s a no, on the Macarena?”

Y/N patted his cheek lightly and let it linger against his stubble for a moment. “Good boy. I’ll be right back.”

She turned to go, and just before she was out of earshot, he called out. “Don’t take too long, or it will be the Chicken Dance!”

Y/N didn’t turn, she just shook her head and kept walking. She didn’t want him to see how much he made her smile.

Just after drying her hands in the ladies room, Y/N was about to leave and bumped into Bri as she was coming in.

“Oh, hello new friend!”

“Hi Bri, having fun?”

“Yes! I love being with this group. You and Jensen should come over to where Kim and I are sitting. She’s a fucking blast, I think you two would get along fantastically. Just give me a sec, I’ll walk back out with you.”

Bri was quick and within minutes she and Y/N were heading back out towards the ballroom. The music was still playing and people were still dancing and having a blast. The music room was still full of passersby, and a different mix of faces at the piano and playing the guitars and singing. Y/N scanned the area where she had left Jensen, but it was now vacant. She tried to search the rest of the room for him, but there was no sign of him.

“Oh shit,” Bri mumbled, then pulled on Y/N’s lace sleeve. “Looks like you might need to go save your boy, there.”

“What?” she asked, her head whipping around to where Bri was motioning. Just past the bar, she found Jensen, talking animatedly to a petite redhead in a shimmery dark green dress. She was also being over-animated in talking back to Jensen. “Who is that?” she asked, but deep down she already knew.

“That’s Dee. Jensen’s ex-girlfriend. I knew they broke up last year, didn’t realize they still talked.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped and she remembered their very quick conversation about her in the car. “I didn’t either.”

Bri and Y/N watched from a distance until Jensen laughed at something she said. It wasn’t a genuine laugh by any stretch. Glancing pensively at Bri, Y/N bit on her lower lip. She didn’t know if this was a case for her to interfere or simply let the man work out his own business. The longer she watched and saw his body language change to stiffen and defensive, she knew she couldn’t be complacent.

“Maybe I should…” she trailed off and looked to Bri for some kind of sign.

“You probably should.”

Y/N gave her a small, appreciative smile and nod before she began to approach Jensen and his ex. The closer she got, the more of their conversation she could hear, and when she finally was standing beside him, they’d already found an argumentative pit and had fallen in knee deep.

“Well, well. Good to see you still make bad decisions,” Jensen scoffed at Dee, his voice slightly louder and more accusatory as it needed to be.

“Just stop, Jensen,” Dee pleaded. “It’s enough, alright?”

“You knew I was gonna be here. You had to know that. He had to come with you, right?”

“We’re together, Jay. I’m not going to hide that.”

“I wish I could… hide it… from my face,” he muttered.

“Not like you’re here alone,” she retorted and motioned to Y/N.

Jensen finally saw her standing there, and moved closer to her, exchanging his scowl for a grin. “Hey, you’re back.”

“I am. So, whatcha say we go get some air? Uh, Hollywood? I think some fresh air will do you good.”

“I’m good, Y/N. I swear. I got a few things I wanna say--”

“Nope, no, not gonna happen. Say, Happy New Year and let’s go,” she encouraged and tried to pull him away.

“You know who that is, don’t you?” he asked, in what he thought was a whisper, but everyone could hear.

“Yes, I know who it is,” she replied and looked up at Dee with a wan smile in greeting. “Hi, it’s nice to unofficially meet you.”

“Hi,” Dee replied with an apologetic smile.

“Then you know she’s a bit--”

“Don’t,” you warned, cutting him off. “I don’t care who it is, it is not like you to talk to anyone like that.”

“But—"

“Doesn’t matter Jay, you don’t. You’re better than that,” she said, her eyes pleading with him to just follow her out.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with this,” Dee started. “I didn’t mean to upset anyone. He just can’t let this all go.” Her tone was genuine but her words were enough to make Y/N turn around and glare at her.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I just mean that--”

“Maybe, if you hadn’t treated him like a piece of shit, he wouldn’t be this way. Maybe, if you had the balls to have had a conversation with the man instead of just walking out, he wouldn’t want to call you a bitch. So, if I were you, lady, I’d scoop up the boy toy over there and move along.”

Dee’s mouth was agape, but then it seemed as if she may fire back some offhand comment or quip. Instead, she turned, linked her elbow with her man’s and walked off to the other side of the room.

She could feel Jensen’s lips by her ear before she actually heard his words. “You’re my hero,” he rasped.

The feeling of his hand on her shoulder only fueled the adrenaline that was coursing through her. The incident didn’t sober her up, but it definitely put a mild damper on the good feeling she had before.

Y/N went up to the bar and asked for two shots of bourbon.

“You wanna talk about what just happened there?” she asked Jensen and watched as he leaned both elbows on the bar, and rubbed his hands over his stubbled cheeks.

Jensen shook his head and finally looked her in the eye. “Nope. Not right now.”

The bartender lined up the shots, and Y/N passed one to him. Without a word they touched glasses and threw them back down their throats. Once the burn wore off, Jensen’s smile returned.

“One more?” he asked.

“You may have to carry me out of here if we do,” she chuckled.

“That would be my pleasure.” Jensen motioned for one more round.

From the corner of her eye, Y/N could see Dee and her companion off on the other side of the room, but continuing to look over in their direction. She didn’t want to spend the rest of the night exchanging accusing glances from across the room.

“Hey, you wanna take a walk? Get out of here for a minute?” she asked Jensen, just as the bartender refilled the shots.

“More than anything,” he said and tossed it back, Y/N doing the same.

Y/N was the one to take his hand this time and led him away from the ballroom.

It was mere minutes to midnight by the time Y/N had pulled Jensen away from the party. He was clearly more than a little buzzed when they stumbled into the elaborate game room and Y/N quietly closed the door behind them, so as not to draw attention to their departure.

She found the light switches on the wall, and turned on a few, illuminating the four corners of the club’s game room. The soft glow of the neon-lighted beer signs gave the space a warm, rich burst of color. In the middle, was a large pool table, made of dark mahogany wood and blue felt. The pockets were made of netted silk twine and gold inlaid etchings around the bumpers. On the far side of the room was a string of videos games with lifeless screens, and foosball table half draped with a soft leather cover.

More pool tables followed that, along with a collection of high top tables and chairs, a small bar that was fully stocked and four dart boards along the wall. One of which was open with all the darts still stuck in the corkboard target.

“Wanna play?” he asked, unbuttoning his jacket and shrugging it off before laying it on the pool table. He walked over to the board and removed the darts before she could answer.

“I gotta tell you, I am no good at darts. So, you best steer clear when it’s my throw,” she warned.

“I can teach you.” His smirk wasn’t even trying to be subtle as he approached her, four darts with red tails in his outstretched hand. “I’ve played a time or two.”

“Oh, I imagine you have. Something tells me you’ve done everything a time or two.”

Jensen stood next to her, leaning against the one pool table where the billiard lamp’s soft lights lit up the midnight blue felt. He rolled his neck to the side where she was and leaned down close enough that she could smell the hint of bourbon on his breath. Normally it wouldn’t be enticing, but on Jensen and in her own partially inebriated state, she let her mind wonder how it would taste off his tongue.

“Not everything,” he rasped, then gave her a wink.

Three minutes to midnight…

Pushing off the mahogany, he took a proper throwing stance and explained how to plant her legs. Y/N chuckled as he swayed a little before launching the dart at the board, striking the edge of it instead of the middle.

“That’s just a warm-up,” he scoffed, waving it off. “Let’s try that again.” He glanced over his shoulder to see her expression before launching a second dart.

Normally this is when she would look away. The more time they spent together, the more she found herself avoiding making eye contact in situations like this. She knew that one day she wouldn’t be able to look away, and unless she’d been reading the signals wrong for the entire span of their partnership, it would end up turning into something else. As much as she may want that, she didn’t know if she was ready for it.

“Ok Trix, your turn,” he said and took her hand, pulling Y/N off the edge of the table and positioning her to face the dart board. He made sure she was holding the dart correctly. “Pinch it here between these two fingers…” he configured her pointer finger and thumb on the dart. Gliding his hands down the length of her arm, she could feel him on her skin through the lace of her sleeve. When he paused at her elbow to bend it back at the right angle, his other hand gingerly touched the outside of her left leg. “Move your leg back, just a little,” he instructed, and as she did, he left his hand there, and despite the fabric of her dress between them, the heat of his hand felt warm and inviting.

Hyper aware of all the sensations her body was experiencing, she could feel herself simply melt back into him. The day’s earlier concerns weren’t gone but being wrapped up in the night as it had gone so far, Y/N pushed it all away to enjoy these quiet, close moments with Jensen. She needed it, and she suspected he did, too.

“Now, pull back your arm,” he continued, “almost like a slingshot. Okay? Then eye up on the board where you wanna aim for.”

She did as he said, closing one eye and targeted the bullseye. “Okay,” she said, biting down on her bottom lip in concentration.

One minute to midnight

The partygoers out in the rest of the clubhouse began to get louder with their anticipation of the stroke of midnight building. Y/N tried to block them out and launched the dart at the board. It wasn’t lost on her that Jensen’s hand was still hovering over her leg, and the other was now resting against her back where the dress she chose was bare of fabric.

The dart hit just off center, and she jumped up, arms raised in the air in triumph.

“Yes!” Jensen cheered and clapped as she danced around victoriously. “See that!”

“Well, the things you can do with a good teacher,” she shrugged.

From beyond the game room doors, they could hear everyone start counting down.

20...

19...

“It’s not too late to go join them,” she said and motioned towards the door.

17…

16…

“Here’s good,” he replied, the smile fading from his lips. He took a few steps towards her, and when he reached out for her hand, she gave it willingly.

14…

13…

12…

“Here’s very good,” she breathed.

Their eyes were locked, as the countdown continued from the other room. Y/N felt what he wanted from her, and despite any of the worries she had, she wanted him; denying that any longer would just be self-inflicted torture. But still… it could hurt.

10…

9…

8..

They were counting it down together. As the numbers dwindled down towards one, Jensen cupped her cheek and let his fingers slide down her jawline and onto her neck. Ever-so-lightly, she could feel his fingertips brush against her hairline at the nape of her neck, sending waves of electricity to course down every vein.

5…

4..

“Happy New Year, Y/N,” he rasped.

“Happy New Year, Jensen.” Her voice was shaking in anticipation of…

2..

His mouth drifted the last couple inches to hers. By the time the rest of the party goers were hootin’ and hollerin’, shooting off poppers and kissing everyone around them, his lips touched against hers for the first time.

Everything faded; the party sounds, the soft hum of the circulating air in the game room, the fireworks going off in random places throughout the city… all either of them could sense was the other. Jensen’s fingers began to press into her neck, encouraging her closer, as her lips opened to accept more of him. A soft moan escaped her, as he walked her back up against the pool table. More than just a New Year’s tradition, this was months in the making and neither of them wanted to pull away.

Jensen’s lips were as soft and luscious as she dreamed they would be. She relished in how they formed against her own, how easily she moved along with them, and how well she fit when pressed against his body. His hand stayed gripped on her neck, while his other ran roughly down the length of her body; coming to rest just about where it had when they were throwing darts. Now, inch by inch he began to lift up the fabric of the skirt, bunching it in his hand until her flesh was exposed to the heat of his hand and the coolness of the air.

Lips parted, and the sensation of his tongue on hers was dangerous. Her head was fuzzy from the alcohol and his touch. Little gasps and moans came from both of them, as the kiss continued to deepen, finding more fuel the longer his hand pawed at her thigh.

His teeth grazed her lip and it was enough of a rush for her to break free of him and slowly roll back at the heat of his touch. Jensen didn’t waste a second and sunk his teeth into her neck while she wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders, dragging her nails against his skin. He nipped at her and trailed his tongue lightly up towards her ear, then peppering wet, lingering kisses back down towards her collarbone. Waves of goosebumps rippled beneath the lace of her dress and brought on a flush of heat between her legs.

Y/N mewed deeply, which pulled a soft growl from deep within his chest. His fingers continued to creep up her leg as the fabric now fell down around his hand, covering it. He reached the edging of the lingerie she wore beneath it, he brought his fingers to follow the hem around back to the swell of her ass, cupping it gently. Y/N felt him there and slowly raised her head back up, making him do the same.

“Jensen…” she whispered; unsure herself whether it was a plea to stop or to keep going.

Jensen closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, desperately wanting to kiss her again, but not here. He wanted to be home, his or hers, with no onlookers or distractions. He wanted more… he wanted all of her…

He was about to go in for more when the doors opened behind him, the sound of which made them jump apart like two teenagers getting caught in the dark. She had a moment--it couldn’t have been more than that, though it felt like an eternity--where a very clear voice screamed in her head to run. This was wrong, she was drunk, he was drunk, they were in a public place, and she had no business starting something up with him.

The flood of anxiety-riddled doubts crashed into her and physically caused her to step back from him. She didn’t have time to register the hurt and confusion on his face before Y/N was turning and bolting for the door. Little hot pinpricks of tears stung at the corners of her eyes and by the time she reached the door and saw that it was Bri standing there, she could barely see anything at all.

“What happened?” Bri asked, her brow furrowed in concern when she saw how upset Y/N was. She looked across the room to where Jensen stood, still staring in confusion.

“Nothing… I just… can you please take me home?” Y/N’s voice was small, and her entire demeanor was far different than it had been ten minutes earlier.

“Uh, I--” Bri paused and looked back to Jensen again, who just shrugged. He started walking towards them and Bri just held up her hand to tell him to stop. She gently shook her head, silently asking him to give Y/N space. He stopped but Briana could see he wanted to go to Y/N. “Sure, honey. Let me just get my stuff.”

Bri wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulders and left the game room, and left Jensen standing there alone in it. As she walked with her new friend down the corridor, Y/N was aware that running out like that wasn’t the best plan; but she needed to get out. What happened with Jensen wasn’t anything like she expected it to be. It was far more intense and meaningful than she thought it could be. The way he touched her, kissed her… It was a game changer.

“Leaving so soon?” Gen asked as they passed her near the coat check.

Y/N tried to reply, but she was still trying to process what almost happened.

“She’s not feeling good,” Bri covered easily. “And I think stud muffin in there has had one too many to try and drive home. Would you and Jared take care of him? I got this one.”

“Of course! I’ll let him know you got Y/N home,” Gen said with a sad smile. “Hope you feel better!”

“Thanks,” Y/N replied quietly. “It was an amazing party, thank you for inviting me.”

Once the pleasantries were passed, Bri quickly shuffled Y/N to the valet stand and handed him the ticket. While they were waiting for her car to come around, she put an arm around Y/N’s shoulder.

“So, did it just get a whole lot more complicated?” she asked.

Y/N rested her head on Bri’s shoulder and sighed. “That, is the understatement of the New Year, my new friend.”

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#jensen ackles x reader insert #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x reader #Jensen Ackles rpf #spn rpf fics

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sarcasticgaypotato · 6 years

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(( Ridiculous fluff for @bondibee‘s ‘LaaC.’ You see??? I promised something happy, I deliver. )) GLaDOS didn’t find it strange for Chell to grab onto her arm in the early morning hours, preventing her from sliding out of bed to work. Chell often insisted on sleeping in late, spending lazy mornings that often turned into lazy afternoons, lounging around like a cat, doing next to nothing, and attempting to get GLaDOS to do the same. GLaDOS normally refused- if she had gotten the appropriate amount of sleep this body needed, she wanted to get to work, not waste valuable time just lying there- but this time, Chell seemed more insistent than usual. And, to her surprise, while the former test subject was usually sleepily persistent and easy to ignore, this time, Chell seemed wide awake. “Just...don’t think about work for five minutes.” Chell had propped herself up on her elbow, gazing down at GLaDOS with a gentle- but very much awake and alert- gaze that occasionally… flickered. Darting ever so slightly towards the door. “...Why? ...What did you do- mpfh!” GLaDOS hardly got to finish her sentence before Chell leaned forward, capturing her lips in a kiss. For a moment or two, the core considered pushing Chell off and properly questioning just what it was that she was up to, but…as Chell’s lips insistently pressed against her own, GLaDOS decided that she could hold her question for a minute or two. Chell hadn’t broken anything or attempted any murders in… a very long time, so whatever she was up to likely wasn’t so urgent that GLaDOS needed to worry about the facility caving on top of her head in the next two minutes. How long had it been? Since all of this started? Since Chell first killed her, since they worked together to kick the little moron into space, since Chell left and came back, since they had been engaged in this.... romantic companionship? GLaDOS hummed in thought against Chell’s lips, mulling this over as the human practically rolled over on top of her. It had been longer than months, it had been years. Chell had come back to Aperture exactly six years, two months, and ten days ago. GLaDOS could’ve let herself get down to the hours and minutes and seconds, but the feeling of Chell’s hands cradling her face distracted her. Calloused hands, larger and stronger than GLaDOS’s own, yet possessing a gentleness that made GLaDOS question how they ever could have been used to harm her. GLaDOS looped her arms around Chell’s neck, running her hands down and splaying her fingers out against her partner’s muscular back, tracing her fingernails over the thin fabric of Chell’s tanktop, feeling the telltale excited shiver down her spine in response. It was suddenly far too easy to just close her eyes, to brush aside the thoughts of whatever she had been saying a minute ago, and lose herself in the moment. Or... it would’ve been easy, had she not heard the sound of a door creaking, and the very faint shifting of metal. Instantly, her eyes shot open, and she sat up, pushing a suddenly sheepish looking Chell off, and casting her gaze towards the entrance to their room. Standing in the doorframe were Atlas and P-Body, both standing close together, and looking almost bashful as their optics seemed directed anywhere but the bed where GLaDOS and Chell currently resided. It took a second look- and a double take- for GLaDOS to realize that P-body was holding a metal tray with food on it. This was not the first time they had acted as waiters, but… GLaDOS knew she had most certainly not asked them to do this, and immediately turned her gaze to Chell, not even needing to open her mouth to get the question across. What on earth was all of this? Chell let out a small exhale of air that almost sounded like a slightly nervous laugh, her cheeks looking surprisingly flushed as she beckoned the co-op bots into the room. “You… never really said if you’d care about this sort of thing or not but… today’s technically your birthday.”

Chell scratched the back of her neck, somehow managing to look more flustered than GLaDOS had… ever seen her look. The stoic, determined, stubborn human looked positively nervous. “...You do know I was never born, right? I’ve joked about the brain damage, but if you’ve actually forgotten that I’m a robot, I am genuinely a bit concerned.” GLaDOS raised an eyebrow, adjusting herself on the bed and relaxing some of the tension in her shoulders, followed by allowing the tiniest of smirks to cross her lips as she watched Chell stumble over an explanation. Chell wasn’t technically wrong, a quick check into the Aperture database confirmed that today was the day that the GLaDOS project was first brought online. The closest thing to a birthday that GLaDOS would ever have, and no doubt what Chell was basing her reason for celebration off of. A closer look at the tray P-body was holding revealed a small assortment of baked goods- freshly made, judging by the smell- most of them chocolate, and all of them deliciously sugary. GLaDOS would admit to no fondness towards the process of eating food, but… she might’ve discovered one or two little things that she enjoyed more than expected. Pastries and sweets being the most common. Turning her focus back to Chell, she noted that the human was still vainly trying to mix her stumbling over words with vague gestures, as if that were helping her get the words out of her mouth. The former mute had-shockingly- never been very good with words, and especially not this early in the morning. Raising a hand to gesture Chell to stop in the middle of whatever uncertain apology had been about to leave her mouth, GLaDOS let the hint of a smirk on her lips shift into a much more noticeable smile. “Frankly, so long as we’re taking a day to celebrate my being alive and not a day dedicated to murdering me, I’ll take it.” ----- From the morning onwards, GLaDOS found herself questioning why they hadn’t started doing this years ago. She had never seen Atlas, P-body, or even Chell be this well behaved for so long. Nothing broken in the facility, everything running smoothly. Atlas and P-body scampered off shortly after GLaDOS and Chell ate breakfast- Chell had given the two of them a rather pointed look that clearly the two bots seemed to understand as a silent order to do something- and before GLaDOS had the chance to complain to Chell that she’d have to round them back up for testing… Chell had shaken her head. She got up from the bed and made her way over to the closet, pulling it open, and taking out a very distinct orange garment. Chell was going to do the testing for today. No catch, no lounging around in the test chambers and doing them purely for her own amusement, she was actually going to do the tests that GLaDOS made, help with science for a change. GLaDOS’s eyes lit up and she could hardly jump up off the bed and pull Chell into a kiss fast enough. Science was always important, but GLaDOS honestly could not say if she had been this excited in a very long time. She had become so used to the co-op bots and their way of going about a test chamber that she felt her heart skip a beat and the air knocked out of her lungs when Chell practically leapt into that first chamber. Where recording the bots’ results was routine, watching Chell had GLaDOS holding her breath, and sitting on the edge of her seat. Everyday testing had fallen into only being done for its importance, with less and less personal interest to GLaDOS as time went on. But this? Watching Chell’s movements was intoxicating, they were fluid, swift and sure, never clunky or robotic. Always ten steps ahead, but never predictable. Any nervousness that she had held onto from earlier that morning was gone in an instant, melting away like ice in the incinerator. Chell had never looked quite so at home as she did with a portal gun on her arm. Test chambers became second nature to her, and the ASHPD was as familiar as a part of her own body. She danced through each chamber with the elegance and confidence that made GLaDOS wonder if she could do the whole thing blindfolded. Time flew by in the same way that Chell flew through puzzle after puzzle, and before GLaDOS felt like she had the time to blink, several hours had passed. Chell had completed the tests in the section, and raised her both her hands, gesturing to indicate that she was calling it quits for the day. GLaDOS found herself having to actively hold back the whine that wanted to leave her throat in protest. Just one more chamber? Or maybe a couple more, but at least one. But alas, Chell was firm on leaving the test chamber when she did, and making her way over to GLaDOS’s chamber to poke her head in for a moment or two to inform GLaDOS that she needed to cleaned up, and that they both needed to get ready. Tonight’s dress code was formal. With that, Chell ducked out of the room as quickly as possible, giving GLaDOS no chance to question or argue. GLaDOS had made it very clear that she thought Chell and formal wear went together like a couple hundred scientists and neurotoxin- very, very well- but it was a rare occasion that she could force the woman into a suit. Chell preferred athletic, comfortable clothing. Function over fashion, even if that meant looking atrocious. So the mere thought that Chell was not only willing to dress herself up, but was preemptively making the decision to do so without so much as a peep of encouragement from GLaDOS was… admittedly very interesting. Chell wanted a formal dress code? GLaDOS would show her formal. ----- Chell came to get GLaDOS about two hours after she had finished testing, looking almost a completely different woman than before. Squeaky clean and dressed in a sharp, perfectly fitting suit. The nervousness from that morning had returned- showing itself as an anxious tapping of her foot- but her face lit up when she saw GLaDOS, dressed to the nines, and wearing a dress made with each fiber planned to match with Chell’s outfit. She pulled the core into an embrace- careful not to smudge GLaDOS’s makeup or ruffle her dress too much when she brought her in for a quick kiss- and gave GLaDOS the most adoring look the AI had ever seen. It looked as disgustingly sappy as something out of a badly made romantic movie, which GLaDOS was certain to tell Chell, who merely responded with a laugh, before pulling away, and taking GLaDOS’s hand. She brought the core to an unused storage room, one that, last GLaDOS had checked, had been little more than an empty white box. Now, that couldn’t be further from the truth. While perhaps another time she would’ve taken the time to complain that Chell had painted the walls and floors without permission, that she had no doubt misused the assembly line to fill the room with appropriately themed furniture and decorations, that she had hijacked the speaker system to play music, and that- if the way the two of them were standing off to the side of the room had anything to do with it- she roped Atlas and P-body into all this, but... GLaDOS just couldn’t seem to find it in herself- no matter how hard she was trying- to complain. She opened her mouth but no sound came out. She let herself be ushered forwards and sat down at the only table in the room, covered in a black tablecloth and illuminated by candles, and GLaDOS was speechless. She let Atlas and P-body trot their way over to the table and chirp out a partially off-tune but well intended version of ‘happy birthday,’ and not a single snarky remark left her lips. She let Chell send the two of them off to start bringing the food, and she was still silent. It was only after her and Chell had been sitting in silence at the table for about five minutes that words finally left her mouth. “I… cannot believe that you did all this without me noticing sooner.” She looked around the room, still trying to take it all in. Chell went to this kind of effort, for what exactly? The anniversary of GLaDOS’s creation, a date that neither of them had celebrated, or even really mentioned up until this point. What made this time so special? Chell didn’t say anything. She just smiled sheepishly, and shrugged, mouthing the words ‘guess I just got lucky.’ Her dominant arm rested on the table in front of her, and she was softly rapping her fingers to the beat of the music playing in the background, still seeming… nervous. Her other hand seemed equally fidgety, shifting between resting in her lap, and being shoved in her pocket. GLaDOS had mentioned the apparent anxiety when Atlas brought a bottle of wine over, teasingly noting that clearly, Chell needed it more than she did. Atlas had let out a chirp that, if GLaDOS didn’t know better, she would’ve called excited, before just barely managing to not spill the bottle of wine, and then scampering off to join P-body once more. Chell, on the other hand, had turned bright red and rather abruptly brought both of her hands to be folded in her lap. GLaDOS rolled her eyes and raised her glass in a toast that Chell readily accepted, deciding that she’d ignore it for now, and just focus on enjoying the evening. Dinner was lovely, much to GLaDOS’s surprise. Beautifully plated, fancy little dishes. Nothing too heavy or too greasy, nothing sloppily done. Minimalistic, aesthetically pleasing. Much like Aperture itself. Chell had gone out of her way to actually speak more than a few sentences all dinner, proving herself to be quite the pleasant conversation partner when she tried. However, she never fully seemed to lose the uneasiness, it just seemed to shift from place to place. Tapping her foot or swirling the wine around in her glass, fixing her hair, or playing with her damn pocket again. Dessert was even more delicious than dinner, reminding GLaDOS why she even bothered eating food in the first place, and GLaDOS was content. Perhaps there really was something to humans and their celebrating of birthdays, it wasn’t as pointless as she once thought. And when Chell stood from the table and gestured for GLaDOS to do the same, the AI fondly thought to herself that perhaps, there was a small bit of dancing in the evening left for them to enjoy, before the actual day of her ‘birthday’ was up. However, either Chell didn’t remember how to dance, or she seemed convinced that she could do it with one hand still fidgeting in her pocket. GLaDOS, finally sick and tired of not knowing why Chell had been looking like she was about to explode almost all day long, opened her mouth to demand an answer out of the human, once and for all. And, for what felt like the hundredth time that day, GLaDOS was interrupted before the words could leave her mouth. This time, not by another voice, nor by a kiss, But by the sight of Chell lowering herself to a single knee in front of her, and taking a small box out of her pocket.

#chelldos #love as a construct #portal #portal 2 #glados #chell #human!glados #atlas #p-body #I'M SORRY THIS IS SO SAPPY #I ONLY HAVE TWO MODES #ANGST AND SAP

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softboywriting · 6 years

Text

Take A Break | Shawn Mendes

Summary: You and Shawn have been together for a few years and he thinks it’s time he takes a break from work for a while.

Word Count: 1,700

| Masterlist |

You’ve been knocking on the door to Shawn’s bathroom for five minutes with no response. You know logically he is ignoring you, too lost in his own head to pay attention to your noise. That doesn’t stop that feeling of panic from sinking in. The panic that he could be drowning, that he could have fallen asleep and slipped under. It’s too much. You turn the handle and push your way into the very steamy bathroom.

“Shawn?” you ask tentatively as you cross the room toward the tub. With one shaky hand you grip the curtain and pull it back just enough to see a mess of wet curls.

Shawn looks up, doesn’t even look surprised as you stare down at him in his bathtub. “Yeah?” he asks tiredly before looking away to stare at the white tiled wall at the end of the tub.

“Yeah? I’ve been knocking for five minutes. You scared me.”

“I’m fine. What do you want?”

You sigh and lean on your shoulder against the wall, hand tight in the curtain.. “You need to get out of the tub. That water has to be cold. Do you know know long you’ve been in here?”

He just shrugs and sinks down a little until his jaw is half submerged in the water.

“It’s been an hour now. You’re going to look like a prune. You don’t care?”

Shawn sinks the rest of the way and dunks his head under. You turn away and go to the sink where there is a little cup and you fill it with cold water from the faucet. You go back and dump the cold water on to Shawn’s exposed curls and he surges up with a yell.

“Hey! What is your problem? I’m fine! I’m not dead, just let me have my bath!”

“No,” you drop the cup onto him and he glares at you. “This is not just a bath. This is you all wrapped up in your head because you were reading comments and god knows what else online for too long and you let it get to you. This is a moody bath and I won’t let you continue.”

Shawn stays quiet.

“I’ll set a towel out for you, meet me in the kitchen when you’re done,” you say and pull the curtain back with more force than necessary. He needed to know that you were not letting him stay in his head this time.

___________________

Ten minutes later and Shawn shuffles into the kitchen with his comforter around his shoulders. You look up from your bowl of cookie dough and raise your eyebrows at his attire. Green plaid pants and a pink hoodie. Fashion at it’s finest.

“You made it out, and you’re not fully a raisin I see,” you chuckle to yourself. Shawn walks over to stand next to you and lean against your side. He’s really too big and you have to brace yourself on the counter to support his weight.

“Are you making cookies?”

“Yes.”

“Chocolate chip oatmeal?”

You scoop up some of the dough and press it against his mouth. He licks it and smiles, it still counts even if it is a tiny little twitch of his lips. “Cinnamon chocolate chip oatmeal,” he says and hums contentedly. He moves away from you and grabs a bottle from the fridge before heading for the living room.

“Ah ah, not so fast. Give me your phone.”

“It’s in the bedroom.”

“No it’s not,” you walk around the kitchen island and slip your hand down into his pajama pants pocket. Sure enough, the phone is there. You fish it out and hold it up. “This is off until tomorrow.”

Shawn grabs for it but you pull it away. “What if Andrew calls? I need my phone.”

“Andrew has my number. I’ll let him know I’m disconnecting you for a few hours.”

Shawn begrudgingly leaves the phone with you and goes into the living room to curl up on the couch while you finish mixing the cookie dough.

___________________

Once you get the cookies into the oven you go to join Shawn on the couch and find he’s watching some episode of Law and Order and you shake your head. He only watched Law and Order when he was in a mood. He wasn’t helping himself at all. He was doing all his usual motions he did when he was down.

You grab the remote from him and switch it over to his xbox so you can pull up Netflix. He makes a noise of protest but you pay no mind as you bring up Brother Bear. You sink into the couch beside him and he shuffles around, pulling the blanket out from under you so he can wrap it around you with his arm over your shoulders.

“Do you think I work too hard?” Shawn asks over the movie and you rub your hand up and down his thigh.

“You worker harder than most artists in this industry, but it’s up to you if you’re working too hard.”

Shawn sighs and says, “I think I am. Maybe I should stop for a while.”

You look at him skeptically and he and he raises his eyebrows. The idea of him taking a break was one that you had always dreamed of, but never ever brought up because music was Shawn’s blood sweat and tears. It was what kept him alive, coursing deep in his veins like a second soul. You could never ask him to stop being who he was. “You want to take a break?” you ask softly and his hand comes up into your hair.

Shawn hums, soft and low so it vibrates through you. “It’s been almost six years, five albums, four tours and a festival circuit. I think I need to take a break.”

“Whatever you want to do, you know I’m going to back you one hundred percent.”

The timer on the oven goes off and you push away from Shawn to go pull the cookies from the oven. The recipe says to let them cool for five to ten minutes but you really can’t wait. So the moment you get them out of the oven you scoop a few on to a paper plate for the two of you.

Shawn is looking at you with a small smile as you walk back in to get settled down again. It’s strange, he has never snapped out of a mood this quick. Something was up. “What’s going on?” you ask as you settle back into his blanket cocoon with him.

“I think if I take a break I’d like to start a family.”

“Oh,” you flush. The cookies nearly fall but you manage to keep them on the plate as you set it on his lap. “Like, a family with a baby?”

“Mmhmm,” Shawn hums and rubs his hand over your stomach. “I think I’m in a place where it’s time to settle down. It’s time to put you before my music for while.”

“You can’t just stop making music Shawn. That is who you are. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not worried about you, I know you’d tell me if something bothered you. And I didn’t say I’d stop. I’m just ready for something different. I’ve been doing this since I was sixteen and I’m tired babe. I think it’s time for me to slow down before I crash.”

You pick at a cookie on the plate, breaking some off and pushing it around. “You’re sure? We’re not even married yet. Not that we have to be married to have a baby but-”

“I have your ring.”

“What?”

Shawn takes the plate and sets it on the coffee table. “I got it last year but I’ve been so busy and too nervous to ask.” He goes to the bedroom and comes back with a small white box. “I got in Japan.”

“Shawn, you’re not proposing to me right now.”

Shawn drops to one knee in front of the couch and you put your hands on his face as if it were doing something. “Babe stop, I’m not messing with you.”

“Stop stop stop,” you shake your head and push at his head. “No, you can’t do this.”

Shawn pulls your arms down and you close your eyes. “I can see you even if you can’t see me, come on, open your eyes.”

“If I can’t see the ring I can’t say yes.”

“I don’t think that is how it works at all. Please look at me.”

You open your eyes and Shawn has the box open, a gorgeous ring with a diamond set around two feathers that hold it in place on the band. It’s absolutely breathtaking you and reach for it but pull your fingers away hesitantly. “It’s too pretty, Shawn, you can’t.”

“I can and I will marry you if you say yes. Now, will you be my wife?”

You pause, not actually considering saying no, but just because you can’t believe this is actually happening. An hour ago you were trying to get him out of the bathtub because he was sulking. Never in a million years did you think he would be proposing to you, though you always figured he would do it like this, low key and privately. All you wanted to do was watch Disney movies and fill him up with enough of his favorite cookies that he passed out and you could cuddle him.

You realize you’ve taken to long when Shawn says your name with a shaky breath. “Yes, yes Shawn I will,” you smile and he beams at you.

Shawn takes the ring out of the box and puts it on your finger, kissing it gently before getting up and sitting next to you. He leans over and kisses your temple as he grabs the plate of cookies and sets them on your lap. “What do you say we get started on that baby after these cookies?”

“Shawn!”

#shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes #shawn mendes writing #oneshot #oneshots

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ciscoatthedisco · 5 years

Note

one sentence prompt: "Are you asking me out?"

Caitlin sat at the table for two, alone.

She had met a guy on tinder and set up a date with him at a beautiful Italian restaurant in downtown Central City.

Her dress sparkled under the candlelight.

“More to drink, miss?” a waiter came by with a bottle of Rosé.

“No, thank you.” she nodded to him.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he returned the nod and left.

Even though Caitlin had been sitting at the table for-

She checked her watch.

three and a half hours, she and the waiter had an understanding as to why she had only ordered a drink.

He probably feels bad for me, she thought.

She didn’t know when to call time of death and declare that she had been stood up.

I’ll just message him, she thought.

She opened up the app and went to her messages.

Many thoughts had crossed her mind as to why he hadn’t shown up on time.

They were in Central City. Superheros and Metavillians everywhere.

But not once would she have come up with the actual scenario.

He had blocked her.

Not with a word of explanation.

Not with a warning to not show up for dinner and waste her time.

Not with a, “Hey, maybe don’t buy a $30 bottle of Rosé for the table, since I’m standing you up.”

She had been stood up.

He eyes welled up with tears.

This was her first time getting back out there since all the drama in her love life- and her life- in the past 2 years.

And she was stood up by some douche on tinder that wasn't even that cute.

She matched him because they had similar interests. She has always been a personality prioritized over good looks person when it came to her romance life.

“Levi,” she waved the waiter over.

“Yes, miss?” he came over to her table in seconds flat.

“I’m ready for the check, please” she gave a polite smile as best she could.

“Right away, miss,” he got the check and quickly returned.

“Here you are, miss. Sorry your night didn’t go as planned.” he returned the polite smile she had given earlier and left.

She paid the check in an even amount of cash, left a generous tip for Levi and left in a hurry. She didn't want to make a scene and embarrass herself.

When she made it outside she remembered she took the bus and sat down at the stop. Checking the time, she realized she had missed the bus and there wouldn't be one for another hour. It was much too cold to sit at the bus stop for another hour, even with Frost’s powers, Caitlin had trouble with cold. Her fingers would stiffen and her knees would ache. Her cheeks would get windburned, and her lips would chap.

I’ll just call a cab, she thought.

She looked in her wallet, making sure she had enough with her to pair the fare, only to find that she had no cash left.

She looked to find her debit card to find that it wasn’t there. She started to panic until she remembered that she took it out at home to buy something online and left it on her desk, next to her laptop.

She would have taken out more cash for the week, but she was told by tinder douche that dinner was “his treat”

It was too far to walk home, so she took out her phone knowing there was only one thing to do.

“Hello?”

Caitlin just cried when she heard Cisco’s voice on the other end.

“Caitlin? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Cisco’s voice came through the phone and met her ear, making her feel less alone. It warmed her insides to hear him speak to her with concern.

“Can you pick me up? The bus won’t come around for another hour and I don’t have money for a cab.” her voice broke.

“Where are you? I’ll breach to you.”

“No, you don’t have to. Your powers are giving you trouble. I don’t want to ask you to do that.”

“Caitlin, it’s alright. I’m not going to drive and make you wait. The city is too dangerous and it’s cold out. I promise I’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” she almost whispered.

“Now, tell me where you are.”

“I’m at the bus stop down the corner from Valentino’s in downtown.”

Before she could say anything else, a breach opened next to her.

Cisco popped out of it and his face immediatly flooded with concern.

Caitlin got up from the bench and ran to him. He took her into his arms and breached them back to his appartment.

“Sorry, auto pilot. Do you want to go home?”

“Not unless you don’t want me here,” she replied, wishing he hadn’t let go of her.

“No, you know you’re always welcome here.” he placed a hand on her back.

“Thank you.”

“Come on,” he lead her to the couch and sat her down with him.

“What happened?”

“I got stood up,” she sniffled.

Cisco’s heart….almost sunk? He didn’t know if it was because he was hurt on Caitlin’s behalf, or hurt because she didn’t tell him she was dating again.

“I didn’t know you had a date,” he tried not to sound like that was all he cared about, but he couldn’t deny the fact that he wished she had told him.

“It was just a stupid tinder date with a stupid tinder guy. I waited three and a half hours for him.”

“Three and a half hours?!” Cisco was angry. He pulled a tissue from a box on the coffee table and wiped her tears with it.

“And I went to message him and see what was up and he had blocked me,”

“Blocked you?!” now he was furious.

“No explanation, just blocked me and didn’t show up.”

“You don’t deserve this, Caitlin, I am so sorry.” he took her into his arms and held her close.

Caitlin’s heart was suddenly more at ease. Cisco was the warmth she craved, and the happiness she longed for.

She wished their relationship was more than this.

For years, she’s longed for him to be the one she did her makeup and put on sparkly dresses to see.

She longed for him to be her home.

But he already was her home.

He just didn’t know it yet

What she didn’t know was he longed for the nights they spent together to be romantic.

Their platonic pajama parties and movie marathons would instead be dates where everything was the same, but somehow different.

He could kiss her on the lips and not worry about it ruining their friendship.

He could hold her hand as long as she would let him, not just to comfort her.

He could snuggle with her, not just because it was comfortable like they did now. He could cuddle with her because he loved her and she loved him back.

He longed for her to know that she was his home.

But niether of them were counting on anything to change.

Her tear stained face was snuggled into his chest, his face was pressed to the top of her head, and it just felt right.

She tried to hide the fact that she was smelling the smell of him that comforted her so much, while he was trying to hide the fact that he was taking in the smell of her green apple conditioner that he thought about for a good 5 minutes after he hugged her.

“Maybe I’m just undateable.” she broke the silence.

“What? You are not undateable, Caitlin, come on.” he ran his fingers through her hair.

“It sure feels like I am. Relationship fail after relationship fail.”

“Hey, don’t let the tinder douche make you feel undateable. Any guy in the whole world would be the luckiest guy alive if he got to date you. Hell, I’d kill for a date with Caitlin snow,”

There was a moment of silence, both of them unable to comprehend what Cisco had just said.

“Are you asking me out?“ she spoke up and cut the tension a bit.

There was a beat of silence.

“Is that inappropriate at this time?” he tried to joke.

“Are you asking me out?“ she asked again.

“If I was asking you out,” he paused. “Would you want to go out..with me?”

“To tell you the truth,” she paused, making his heart stop for a second. “I’ve been wanting to for a while.”

“Really?” he was almost shocked.

“Why wouldn’t I want to go on a date with a gentleman like you? especially after getting stood up by tinder douche.” she laughed, sitting up and meeting his eyes.

“Well, what are you doing tonight?” He winked at her.

“Well, I was going to watch movies with my best friend, eat ice cream and cry. But, for you? I guess I could clear my schedule.” she winked back, making Cisco laugh.

He smiled at her, scrunching his nose up the way he does. That was always made Caitlin’s heart flutter, and her stomach do backflips.

They had decided to just get some big belly burger delivered to the apartment. They had mutually agreed that they didn’t need a fancy date. Cisco got some pajamas out of his drawer for her so she could get out of her fancy dress. They ate and talked and laughed.

They were eachother’s home.

“Now, you know, since this is a date,” Cisco swallowed his last bite. “I’m going to ask for a goodnight kiss.”

“I’d be insulted if you didn’t” she laughed.

Cisco smiled back at her.

“You know, I hate to jump ahead, but,” she paused.

“What is it?”

“I’d kinda like to make these a regular thing. If you want to.” she was suddenly nervous.

“Like,” he paused, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. Like they ever had very many. “You wanna be boyfriend and girlfriend? Like, regular dates, ship names, the whole nine yards?”

His response almost made her wish she hadn’t asked. It didn’t sound like this was something he wanted right away.

“Is that something you want?” she didn’t want to screw things up. She was all he really had, even if they never went on a date again.

“Yeah, I’d actually really like that.” he all but giggled.

“Oh, good” she almost giggled herself.

“You make me really happy, Caitlin.”

“I’m glad I’m finally home.” she smiled.

“My home is your home.”

“You’re my home.” she looked into his eyes.

“And you’re mine.”

#killervibe #snowvibe #killervibe fic #snowvibe fic #cisco ramon #caitlin snow #cisco x catilin #caitlin x cisco #ciscoatthedisco fiction #otp: forever vibes #otp: she's his love donut #otp: if she was meant to be in your life she'd still be in it #otp: if you need anyone #am i forgetting something

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wordsonpagespress · 5 years

Text

Toll-Free, by Rudrapriya Rathore

fiction by Rudrapriya Rathore | runner-up for the 2016 Blodwyn Memorial Prize in fiction, sponsored by Book*Hug

Near the end of the year, the toll-free number flashes across my phone three, five, seven times a day. There’s an odd rhythm about it that orders everything I do. A buzz on the morning subway ride where the train surfaces long enough to get phone signal, like a metallic dolphin mid-leap. A buzz during my lunch break while I eat my cucumber-cheese sandwich at the receptionist’s desk. A buzz when I walk to the grocery store in the evening, or if it’s Friday, to the Owl to get a drink with Phil. And when I get home after dark, two or three more while I watch TV in bed, the phone lighting up my covers with its bluish glow.

I never pick it up.

“Why not?” asks Phil, sucking down his weekly dose of pub fries while they’re still hot.

“Why should I? It’s just a telemarketer.”

“You don’t know that.” We’re more than a year deep into Owl Fridays and the waitresses know us so well they give us the same window table every time. Phil likes the curvy girl with the ponytail, though he’d never admit it, and gives his usual order trying not to look at her chest.

“Who else would call me this many times? It’s a machine, I bet. Not even a real telemarketer.”

“What if it’s your bank?” He licks the salt off his fingers.

“It’s not my bank. My bank emails me.”

“It could be your insurance company, or your internet.” He glugs his beer. “What if it’s the government or something? CSIS?” We look at each other for a moment, thinking it through. Then he snorts into his pint and I laugh because he’s dripping on his shirt collar.

“Alright, I get it. I’m too boring for CSIS.”

“That’s true. You haven’t even had two beers in a row since college.” Phil wipes his face. He likes this. If I play along for long enough, he slips his arm around me on the walk back to the subway station. Once in a long while, he comes home with me. We have sex for half an hour and then he calls a cab, waving as it pulls up to the curb.

This began when I got the job at the reception desk. Phil’s a manager in the office, I think, or an agent. A buyer. A seller. They’re all something like that, the ten or twenty men and women that pass by me every day on their way to the coffee machine. They look the same: blandly content, middle class. They say the same things on a weekly rotation. Hump Day! Happy Friday! Nearly the weekend now! Ah, Mondays! Sometimes I play a game where I try and beat them to it. “Almost Friday!” I say as Marie turns the corner, her glossy pink lips just opening up to greet me. She pauses. I think I see a flash of irritation move across her face—or maybe it’s just a ripple in the sea of foundation-powder blush. “That’s right!” she replies, heels clicking by.

“If I’m boring, what are your colleagues?” I ask Phil.

He shakes his head and gets up to pay. “You should pick up the call. See who it is.”

The phone buzzes two more times that night, and each time, as I lay there in my pajamas watching TV, I look over hoping it’s Phil. CSIS agent here, Ma’am. We’re concerned about the dullness of your daily routine. He might say that, if he called. That sounds like him.

I think of calling him, but I can’t make myself do it, can’t imagine what I would say. That kind of spontaneity belongs to a different kind of person. Those people regularly surprise themselves with what they come up with. They find a new version of themselves in every phone call, while I agonize over how to sign off in work emails. Sometimes I sent documents I needed for the next day in emails to myself. I watched them leave and then land in my inbox, a virtual boomerang. Each one pinged, Look! It’s you!

But the toll-free calls were different. I liked knowing that someone or something had logged my number. There was an entity on the other end of the line, and it wanted something from me.

I roll over and turn off the TV show. It’s almost eleven o’clock. If I did call Phil, he might not answer. That would be the best scenario, I think, if he sat in the dark, too, watching the phone buzz, liking the feeling of being wanted.

***

Either the next day or the next week, I get a voicemail. I stare at it with my eyebrows furrowed over my cucumber sandwich before opening it. I almost want to walk to Phil’s office so we can listen to it together, but I don’t. It’s been so long since I listened to a voicemail that it takes me five tries to remember my password, and when I finally get it right, the perky automated voice sounds a lot like Marie. I listen hard, but the message is just silence. Not dead air, exactly, but a kind of quiet hum. When I listen the second time I think I can hear a slight shuffle. Clothes, maybe, rustling against each other.

I tell Phil later, when he walks by to get coffee, and he says, “That’s weird.”

“I know.”

“Pick it up! Next time. I’m telling you.” He raises his eyebrows for emphasis.

That day I get home and tip over the potted plant on my windowsill while doing dishes. It spills fresh, black soil into the clean dishes on the counter, so I have to wash them all over again. Afterwards, I fix the plant and realize the windowsill’s dirty, so I clean that too, and it gets me on a roll, scrubbing the counters and the floors and the walls of the kitchen, where dirt has been secretly accumulating without my noticing. The top of the fridge where I keep the cereal boxes. The crack of space between the stove unit and the cupboards. I clean until my knees hurt and my nostrils burn from the soap and bleach, and then I listen to the silent message saved on my phone again, this time with earphones, so I can turn it all the way up. The shuffle is still there, hiding under a hum. Something human that does not speak.

It starts happening all the time. My voice mailbox fills up every two days, the mechanical-Marie alerting me loudly every time I punch in my password. The messages are always nearly silent, but one in every ten or so sounds slightly different. There’s a muted, tinny beeping through one of them. A sound that could be breathing, if you listen a certain way. A buzz like an air conditioner.

One night, I make a spreadsheet so I know how often the noises happen and colour-code it according to the time of day. I type the number into a search engine, but nothing comes up. I even search company directories online, trying to trace it to a corporation. Another night, I dream that something is watching me through the small camera lens on my phone, so I stick a little piece of green tape over it when I wake up.

Phil passes by my desk three or four times a day and we exchange nods. Friday at the Owl, he leaves early, after only one drink, so I go home and scroll through the spreadsheet, waiting for the phone to ring so I can make another entry. According to the numbers, I’ve been receiving more calls since that first voice message. It’s no longer three, five, seven times a day but thirteen, fifteen, seventeen. I cross-reference columns, trying to find a pattern, but there’s nothing there except for the fact that I never get the good voicemails, the human ones, more than once or twice a day.

It should be scary. I know this. It should make me feel anxious, like I’m under surveillance. But it makes work bearable, to have that phone constantly buzzing in my pocket where no one else can hear it. I suddenly like seeing Marie, because she doesn’t know that she sounds like the automated voicemail lady who greets me so fondly, and I wonder in my daydreams at the desk if Phil is actually the one making the calls, because maybe he doesn’t know how else to tell me he loves me.

My mother calls. I hear another call go through while she tells me about her new yoga class, and my hands shiver a little while I think about the new voicemail. She asks me if I’m dating anyone, and it slips out of my mouth: Yes, I am—actually, he’s here, I have to go. But of course she asks who, and I tell her, A man in my office, we get along great, it’s been a couple of months now.

“Well, well,” she says in a tone of voice that suggests she finds this difficult to believe, “What’s his name?”

Another call starts on the other line and my palms grow clammy. “Phi-Patrick.”

“What?” I resist the urge to hang up on her.

“Patrick,” I repeat. Maybe the voicemails have sharpened my ears somehow, because I can hear something that sounds just like if she was sucking on a cigarette. She hasn’t smoked since before I was born, though, and I refuse to ask her.

“It sounds like things are really looking up for you, darling. I couldn’t be happier. Just a little while ago you were telling me how bored you were, and terrified of never getting married. Is this Patrick—I mean, is he serious about you?”

My hand lowers the phone from my ear. There’s a translucent smear of sweat and beige makeup on the screen. Feeling as though my face is breaking down and sliding off me in wet little puddles, I half-cover the bottom half of the phone and call out to my empty kitchen, Patrick, hon, are you serious about me? and giggle.

“He says he’s not quite sure yet,” I say to her, laughing.

She laughs too. I hang up and wash my face.

***

I love it when Phil is nervous. This I realize at James’s retirement party, which I attend in a blue dress that makes my legs look longer than they really are. A big frosted cake has been ordered from the bakery in honour of James, his name piped over it in green and yellow, and a card that says, Now Real Life Can Begin! has been signed by everyone regardless of whether they spoke to James or not.

Phil gives a speech. It’s not clear to me why he is the one giving the speech instead of one of James’s friends. Maybe he is a bigger manager or agent or buyer or seller than I thought. He hands out glasses of champagne in the lunchroom and then takes a few index cards out of his pocket. He reads off them a few things about how lucky we have all been to benefit from the great attitude James brought into the office, and makes a joke about how some people think not working means being less tired, but others think it means being re-tired, tired again. Then he begins to talk about how much we’ll miss him. He must have copied the cards out wrong, because he reads the same one twice. He knows, too, but is too embarrassed to stop, and remains blotchy for minutes after everyone has toasted James and begun to chat again.

I watch from across the room, near the doorway, and he catches my eye and smiles. I gesture to him with my glass and point out the door, trying to ask if he wants to grab a drink later, but he shrugs and begins talking to someone.

Later on, at home, I watch the phone ring. For reassurance, I print off a copy of the spreadsheet, all eighty pages of it, and lay on my impeccably clean bedroom floor listening to the hum of the printer. I remember my favourite voicemails—the breathing, the definitely human shuffle. There will be someone, I tell myself, who can explain this to me. I smooth my hair and tuck it behind my ears before beginning to read over the notes on the spreadsheet again.

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brerediddy · 6 years

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more than survive - chapter 3

“You said you were fine. You told me not to worry.” Michael’s voice sounded oddly strangled, and Jeremy sat up against his headboard. He could make out the other boy in the soft light coming in through the window, and he immediately realized that this meant Michael could see everything, too. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off. "Jeremiah Heere, what the fuck happened to you?” The taller boy looked to be on the verge of tears and, shit, this was the exact opposite of what Jeremy wanted. He became aware of a feather-light touch against his neck. His best friend was tracing the bruise with a horrified expression on his face.

“Michael-”

“Why would you lie to me?” He pulled his hand away sharply and made direct eye-contact. He was sitting on his knees, looking smaller than ever.

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy said. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. I-I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Really?” Michael said, giving a disingenuous laugh. “Jeremy, tell me why I shouldn’t be worried. You-You-You stop hanging out with me all the time, which is fine, like I get it, but then, then you show up last week with that bruise. You told me you fell but, like, I haven’t even seen you so much as trip once in the past month. You’re exhausted all the time. Honestly, since when do you go to bed at nine o’clock? Then, you lie to my faceand say you’re fine. But I wake up to get some water and you look like a goddamn human punching bag! So, please, tell me why I shouldn’t worry!” At the end of his rant, he was breathing heavily and he crossed his arms in a huff. Softer, he added, “I thought I was your best friend.”

“You are,” Jeremy agreed meekly. He was at a loss for words. He just wanted Michael to stop looking so distraught. The early morning light streaming through his window seemed much too soft for the current situation.

Michael threw his hands up and exclaimed, “So why don’t you just tell me what’s wrong?! So I can help you! Like best friends do!”

“Michael, I…” He bit his lip and suddenly, an excuse popped into his brain. He wanted to tell Michael the truth. Really, honestly, he did. But it was too dangerous. Anyone could come after him, anyone could hurt him to get to Jeremy. Removing Michael from the situation was his only option. He would tell him—really, he would. After crime in the city had died down for a while and he was sure that he could keep the other boy safe. But he didn’t trust his abilities enough for that yet. He couldn’t. “Michael, I was mugged.” He was disgusted by how easy it was for him to lie, but it was for the best.

“You... what ?” Michael immediately softened, his face seeming to pale in the small stream of sunlight. He looked away from Jeremy for the first time, choosing instead to pick at his fingernails.

“Yeah. I was walking home from school and l picked the wrong time to stop in an alley. That’s all.”

“That’s all? They beat the shit out of you!” The other boy looked up at him again, but his former anger seemed to be gone. It was a new type of anger, one that wasn’t directed at Jeremy. “What did they do?”

Jeremy shrugged. “They threw some punches. I ran as soon as I could,” he said. With his next breath, Michael appeared even closer to him. He lightly guided Jeremy’s chin up, investigating the mark.

“What’s this?”

“A. Um. Crowbar,” Jeremy responded. He felt Michael tense once more. “They got my wrist, too. I don’t think it’s broken, though.”

Michael seethed, “I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me .”

“I’m sorry.” Part of him was thankful that Michael knew about his injuries, at least, even if not the true cause. He had longed for his comfort, for his concern. For someone to care.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again.” Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long breath. “Please just tell me.” He reached for the other boy’s good hand and rubbed small circles into his palm.

“I will,” Jeremy lied.

“The thought of you hurting and me not knowing about it sucks, Jeremy.” Michael paused and glanced at the bruises once more. He shook his head in frustration and said, “We have to go to the police, Jer.”

The aforementioned boy’s eyes widened and he rushed to say, “No, no, it’s fine. I didn’t get a good look at them and my dad said that it would be useless.”

Michael didn’t seem convinced, but he let the matter drop. He knew that Jeremy had a point. The cops in their town were useless, anyway. That was why superheroes existed in the first place. He stood up slowly to pace around the room. “I’ll go. You need to rest. I’ll see you-”

“Don't leave. Please,” Jeremy interrupted. He felt pathetic. He shouldn’t need someone to take care of him—he was Spider-Man. But this was Michael. Michael who had saved him a million times before: from being friendless in the first grade, from bullies in the fourth grade, from bad school lunches on multiple occasions, from heartbreak when his mom left, from everything.

Michael nodded, his eyes not leaving the mark on Jeremy’s neck. “Jeremy, you could have died. What would I do?”

The injured boy couldn't help but become aware of the lump in his throat. That was a question that could become relevant sooner than either anticipated, and Jeremy didn't want to know the answer. He cleared his throat and said, “You'd get over me, I hope. Go to college and find another player two.” He couldn't meet Michael’s eyes, knowing the look of utter betrayal that would be present.

“Shut up, no I wouldn't,” Michael responded immediately, moving to loop his arms around Jeremy. He was careful of the injuries as he buried his head in the other boy’s chest. “Let's not think about it.” The sound was muffled by t-shirt material and he let out a shaky breath. “Just please never do this again. In general. I can't stand to see you like this.”

Jeremy was silent as he closed his eyes and simply tried to find warmth in the embrace. He wondered how Michael would have reacted to his gunshot wound from last week or his broken rib from a month ago or even his concussion from his first ever fight. As he considered these things, he became vaguely aware of some pressure on his injured knuckles. He opened his eyes and was met with the sight of Michael sitting up once more and holding his hand gently, like he was afraid that the smallest touch would break him. He held Jeremy’s hand to his lips and slowly pressed kisses to each mark, tender and soft. Jeremy wanted to cry. Michael deserved better. Michael deserved the world. And Jeremy couldn’t give that to him; he couldn’t even be honest with him. How shitty was that? He pushed his mind onto other matters and said, “You don’t hate me, right?”

Michael paused, his hand still securely on the other boy’s. “Of course I don’t. How could I ever hate you? You’re my best friend.”

Jeremy nodded at that and steadied himself. “What time is it?” He inquired after a comfortable pause of silence.

“Uh,” the other boy hesitated, pulling out his phone. “7:43. Too early.”

“Do you want to go back to sleep?” Jeremy asked, watching his best friend’s face closely.

Michael mumbled, “Not tired,” but yawned as if on cue.

“C’mon,” Jeremy prompted. His slender fingers wrapped around the other boy’s wrist and tugged lightly. He reclined completely against the mattress and pulled Michael with him. The bigger boy fit into his side carefully.

“Is this okay? Am I hurting you?” Michael nervously questioned.

“No, dude, you're fine. Don't worry. Just go to sleep.”

He nodded, pushing his head onto Jeremy's chest. Michael breathed out a sigh, the anxiety trying to leave his mind. Jeremy lifted the arm that was wrapped around his best friend and began to lightly stroke Michael’s hair. He moved his fingers through the strands, letting his eyes fall shut and humming as he did so. He had missed this. Eventually, the two boys fell into rest.

The following week was pretty uneventful. He’d stopped a robbery or two, but didn't have much to do. Throughout the course of each day, Jeremy decided that he was going to tell Michael the truth. They’d spent the entire weekend together, playing games and ordering pizza. The other boy was so gentle with him the entire time, so earnest, so good, that the thought of continuing to lie made him feel sick. Sure, he was still worried about his ability to protect his best friend, but Michael wasn’t defenseless. Just because he didn’t have superpowers didn’t mean he couldn’t protect himself to some extent. He was going to tell him. As soon as the time was right, he would do it.

They were at the mall on a Wednesday night, waiting on Michael’s dealer to meet them. School had been called off the next day due to some pipe leaking in the gym which mostly meant that two boys were going to get stoned in Michael’s basement and let off some steam. As Jeremy took a bite of his food-court pizza, he couldn’t help but notice his best friend’s eyes wandering elsewhere.

In the dinky t-shirt design shop across from the food court hung an entire row of Spider-Man themed shirts. Tank tops and baseball tees and, hell, even crop tops all had his signature design on them. Rows of red and blue disillusioned Jeremy and he had to blink a few times to adjust his eyes. What the hell?

“Have those always been there?” Jeremy asked, trying to keep his food down.

“I don’t think so,” Michael responded, bringing his attention back to the boy sitting across from him. “Must be a new shipment.”

“Why ?”

“They were probably in demand. Dude, I know you have some weird vendetta against Spider-Man, but you’re the only one. Tons of people would love to have a shirt like that.” He took a sip of his blue-raspberry slushie and shrugged. “I’d probably get one if I didn’t refuse to step foot in that store.”

Jeremy let go of a nervous breath to laugh and say, “Listen, I know you’re pissed that they replaced the fabric store but-”

“I have to get my patches online now, Jeremy. Online.” Michael threw a glare at the fluorescent sign bearing the image of a simple outline of a shirt.

“Anyway,” Jeremy spoke. “I just don’t get what the big deal is. Dude can’t even handle a spider bite.”

“What, like you could?”

In that moment, Jeremy was unbelievably close to saying it. Just laughing and saying, no, I couldn’t . He wanted to sit in the middle of the food court, the two of them in their own little world, and tell him everything. He wanted to come clean about all the late nights and bruises and weird cover-ups. He wanted to tell him about every villain he’d faced, even the ones that weren’t on the news. He opened his mouth to do exactly that, to tell him everything, but was interrupted by Michael’s short tone.

“There he is. I’ll be right back.” He smiled as he stood up. God, what Jeremy wouldn’t do for that smile. He watched as his best friend moved to the corner of the room to collect his purchase. Within the next moment, Michael had returned to their table, shoving something around in the pocket of his hoodie. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said, slightly crestfallen. What was he thinking? Michael would worry. It would ruin the whole night. He repeated, “Yeah,” more for his benefit than anyone else’s. It wasn’t the right time.

“You good?” Brown eyes focused on him intently. They seemed to be doing that more than ever recently.

“Perfect,” he nodded.

The ride home was comfortable, windows down and music blasting. Jeremy stared out into the passing blur of buildings, wondering why his life couldn’t feel like this all the time. Why it had to be so complicated. When they arrived at the Mell residence, he got out of the car and wandered up to the front door. He entered the security code from memory as Michael trailed behind him.

“What do you want to start with? I hear Mario Kart is, like, ten times more fun when you’re high.” Michael threw his backpack down by his coffee table and began the descent downstairs. He mused, “Although, last time, you were hilarious, man. I could just sit and listen to you for hours.” Not that Michael needed to be high to do that, but it was easier to compliment Jeremy this way. Keep the facade up, nothing more than friendship here,no way .

Jeremy gave a small laugh and shrugged. “I say we smoke first and then decide. Up to you, though.” They crossed to their respective beanbags and the smaller boy fell back against his with a small sigh. It felt good to lay down. To just rest for a moment. Keeping his GPA high enough to avoid a grounding, hanging out with Michael and occasionally some people from his theater class, and fighting crime all within the same week really took a lot out of him. He was vaguely aware of Michael rolling a blunt next to him but he had never really paid attention to that part of the process anyway. Jeremy rubbed at his eyes and as soon as he pulled his hand away, Michael was offering the cleanly-rolled object to him. He smiled softly and accepted, breathing it in a time or two and then passing it back. He stared up at the ceiling, going over everything in his mind. He really needed to get some things out of his head; Jeremy hadn’t actually killed that man on that boat, he’d just won the fight. He didn’t do it with his own hands. Right? Like that made any difference. Jeremy shook his head and reached out for another hit.

“Stop that,” Michael said, his voice soft.

“Stop what?”

“You’re thinking too much. This is a night for no thinking,” he explained. He glanced over and pointed to the crease between Jeremy’s eyebrows. “See? That. None of that.”

Jeremy slowly let his face relax and he leaned back once more. “I don’t know how to not think.”

“I’ll help,” his best friend responded. He took another puff and reached out an arm to tug on Jeremy. The shorter boy let himself be moved until he found himself on his side with his head in the other boy’s lap.

“Uh, Michael?”

“Shh,” Michael responded softly. “It’s fine.” He began to comb his fingers through the other boy’s hair with his free hand. He lifted the blunt to his lips again before moving and holding it up to Jeremy.

The two boys stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, for far too long. But it didn’t matter. No one was around to notice them. No one was around to care. About two hours into this endeavor, Michael realized that they were almost out of weed. He cast a disappointed look down at Jeremy and said, “Dude, we’re done for.”

“What?” Jeremy asked, finally sitting up. His head felt light but better than it had in a while. There was, for once, no weight on his shoulders. Figuratively and literally. He glanced at the bag and said, “Man, that sucks.” He stared at the joint in the other boy’s hand. “Is that the last one?”

“Looks like it,” he nodded. Michael stared between the half-smoked blunt and the boy next to him. “We could...share.”

“There’s hardly enough there to share. You can have it. It’s cool.”

“There’s plenty to share if we do this right,” Michael shrugged. He rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie and said, “We could shotgun it.”

“Dude, what does that even mean?” Jeremy laughed.

The taller boy said, “Let me show you.” He inhaled a good amount of the drug before closing his mouth and holding his breath. Jeremy had no clue where this was going. He stayed in place as his best friend slowly got closer to his face. This was... odd. He’d had dreams like this but he was pretty sure that this was real life. Michael leaned in, tilting his head. He placed a hand against the back of Jeremy’s neck, his touch so light that it almost wasn’t there. As their lips came closer, the other boy instinctively let his mouth fall open and his eyes fall shut. Smoke poured in through his lips and he focused on that sensation instead of the fact that Michael’s lips were so close to his. The fact that it would be so simple to close the last few inches of distance between them and...yeah. Jeremy let the smoke trail over his tongue as he finally made eye contact with his best friend. As soon as their eyes met, both boys were blushing and turning away from each other. Michael immediately moved back into his previous position on his own beanbag chair.

Michael asked nervously, “Was that okay?”

“It was good, yeah. Good,” Jeremy nodded. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to slow his heart rate. The weed should have been calming him down but, god, how was he supposed to be calm after that? He let out a long breath and fell back against the cushion. “Michael, you’re cool.”

“Thanks, Jer. You’re cool, too.”

Jeremy smiled at that and gave a small, embarrassed giggle. He said, “What’s on your mind, Michael Mell?”

“I have a secret to tell you,” Michael said eagerly. He sat up and leaned towards Jeremy once more, only this time it was from a suitable distance to keep both of them from cardiac arrest.

Jeremy sat up and met his eyes. “Okay. Hit me. I’m ready.”

“I’m gay,” he said suddenly.

The other boy watched Michael’s face closely and said, “Um, I know? You told me in, like, the sixth grade. You called me homophobic yesterday because I was blocking your car door. Remember?”

He nodded. “Oh, that’s right.” Michael hummed for a moment, his brows knitting together. “Oh! There was another part that I was supposed to tell you. I forgot.”

“Spit it out.”

“Don’t laugh,” he demanded. At Jeremy’s nod, he added, “I have a massive crush on Spider-Man.”

Jeremy suddenly felt much more sober. “You don’t even know the guy. He could be a creep.”

“He’s cool,” Michael defended. “And he’s hot. I mean, have you seen him?”

Hot? Where did that come from? Jeremy was so far from hot. Even if he’d developed some more muscle after his spider-bite, he was still just Jeremy Heere. “Michael, I think you just like him because he fights crime.”

“Don’t kinkshame me,” he said. With that, both boys dissolved into laughter. Jeremy figured that it didn’t matter if Michael had a crush on Spider-Man because, well, if he knew the truth then that crush would go away instantly. He did, however, let himself revel in it for a moment. He let himself believe that Michael truly liked him for him, not Spider-Man. It was nice to dream. He was pulled from his thoughts as the other boy stood up rapidly and announced, “I want to make waffles,” before holding out a hand to help Jeremy up.

As they moved upstairs and into the kitchen, Jeremy considered his wording carefully and said, “Hey. If you like Spider-Man, then that’s cool. I’m happy if you’re happy. Promise me you won’t stop hanging out with me when your cool new boyfriend is a masked vigilante?”

“I promise,” Michael said solemnly. He reached out for Jeremy’s hand once more and tangled their fingers together. If they didn’t let go of each other for the rest of the night, then it didn’t need to be brought up. It was just Michael and Jeremy being...Michael and Jeremy.

#meremy hell #boyf riends #bmc #be more chill #bmc spiderman au #my writing #my post

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