#this is the last time i’m going to talk about being a fixer upper i promise
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Fixer Upper
Part 27
Perv!Kurapika x Fem!Reader
!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!
Part 26
Part 28
warnings: drinking, characters get high(weed), killua and Kurapika get into a fist fight, Reader is mentioned to have attempted suicide, mentions of Kurapika planning to kill himself after he finds all of the scarlet eyes
A/N: everyone thank Bug for not only the idea for this chapter, but also for helping to write several scenes!! Without her, Fixer Upper wouldn’t be possible <3
taglist: @fabitheraven @tsukilover11 @ashdownunderscorebeloved @lemonslut @homeinmydreams @superweeniehutjrsblog @bugmomwrites @heartsforseo @lixiawinter @altaircc @itszenava @fiightforlovee @mimi-sanisanidiot @monainanuttshell @wow-im-gay @whorermoviestar @lightshowerrr @mama-m1na @nenggie @wicked-binch @jamayah @themanicwriter01
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(Name) set the turkey to bake the night before the gathering, and after that, she went to sleep. She would be waking up in the early hours of the day to cook and do some last minute cleaning, so she would need her sleep.
An alarm was set for 6 am, where she would wake up to check on the turkey before getting everyone else up.
“Kurapika, it’s time to wake up.”
The blonde groaned, sitting up to see (Name) standing at his bedside, looking exhausted. She gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her tired eyes, before gently brushing his hair out of his face. “Todays the big day. Let’s get ready, okay?”
He followed her downstairs, where everyone else was already awake and yawning. (Name) stood in front of everyone, wearing her pajamas. “Okay guys, I’m going to give everyone a task that you’ll need to complete before guests get here.”
“Um, (Name), a guest is already here.”
(Name) looked to where Gon was pointing to see Bisky sitting on the couch next to Leorio, eyeing him up. “Hey sweetheart, I decided to get here early, I hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh um, I don’t mind at all. Please excuse the mess, we’re still getting-“
(Name) watched as Bisky pulled out a wine glass and bottle of wine before pouring herself a drink. “Oh don’t worry about messes, (Name). I’m sure those boys are to blame anyways.”
Killua and Gon shrank under her gaze, the former sticking his tongue out at her. Leorio scratched the back of his head. “So what are our tasks, sunshine?”
“Oh, right.”
Killua and Gon were put on cleaning duty, Leorio and Kurapika were asked to do grocery runs and get the little fire pit ready outside, and Alluka was sat at the kitchen table to help (Name) cook. “I thought Bisky came to help with preparations, but she’s just drinking and watching hallmark movies.”
Leorio walked in, wearing a look of confusion on his face. “So is no one going to stop the 12 year old from drinking her weight in wine?”
“Are you talking about Bisky? She’s nearly 60.”
“60? Yeah and I’m 42.”
Alluka and (Name) glanced at each other then him. “You… look like you’re pushing at least 30, Leorio.”
“30!? IM 21!”
(Name) watched as he sulked out of the room, trying not to laugh. “You’re handsome though!”
The two got back to work, smiling and laughing as they cooked. “Okay Alluka, Zushi is going to be here soon so you two can go play, alright?”
A few hours passed, with (Name) finishing up most of the cooking besides a few items. Unfortunately she wasn’t able to make another cherry pie last minute, but she was able to make another batch of macaroni. She still set Kurapika’s version on the table though, even when Killua walked up and scowled. “Mom, that’s going to give someone food poisoning.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Killua, be nice. Kurapika and-“
“Oh I am being nice, that shit looks like it’s going to come alive at any moment and beg for death-“
“Does it really look that bad?”
Killua paused his rant when Gon appeared in the doorway, looking a little hurt. “I tried my best…”
“Oh, Gon…”
(Name) patted his back, letting him sniffle. Killua grabbed Gon’s sleeve and tugged him away, (Name) watching them go. Ever the curious one, she snuck around the corner to listen in on their conversation.
“Gon, I didn’t know you were the one that fixed it up. I was being too harsh b-“
“Because you thought Kurapika did it? That’s not very nice, Killua.”
She could hear Killua sigh, smiling to herself. She could almost picture his cheeks puffing out in a pout as he looked at his friend. “Well… I just don’t really like him all that much.”
“You keep saying that, but you never tell me why. What did he do to make you hate him so much? He’s never done anything to hurt any of us!”
Killua stayed quiet, (Name) holding a hand over her chest. “I just… don’t like that he can’t just tell mom how he feels. He says he wants to ask her out, but he keeps chickening out. Kurapika is selfish too, he expects her to wait for him forever…”
(Name)’s eyes widened. ‘He… he likes me? He’s been trying to ask me out on a date?’
Her face felt hot, and she stopped listening for a moment until she heard something else of interest. “Come here, Gon. Let’s get back before everyone gets suspicious.”
“Yeah. I love you, Killua.”
“I love you too.”
(Name) peeked her head around just in time to watch Killua give Gon a peck on the cheek, both of the boys blushing. She stared open mouthed for a split second before rushing back to the kitchen.
———————-
The guests started arriving soon after that, the first being Wing and Zushi. Zushi immediately left with Alluka to play outside, while Wing walked into the kitchen to greet (Name).
“Miss (Name), it’s good to see you. Thank you for watching Zushi last month, he really enjoyed it.”
(Name) smiled, shaking his hand. “Oh it was no problem, and just (Name) is fine!”
Wing left to join Leorio on the porch, Kurapika peeking into the kitchen soon after. “Angel, I got the milk and eggs.”
“Oh wow, he came back with the milk. Surprising.”
Kurapika scowled at Killua, narrowing his eyes. “Of course I did, (Name) asked me to.”
“Uh huh. It’s just a bit of a shock to see you doing anything useful around here. Usually you stand around like an idiot while (Name) does all of the work.”
Kurapika’s grip on the shopping bags tightened, (Name) rushing forward. “You two need to stop, you’re being childish. Anymore of this fighting and you’ll both be washing all of the dishes after dinner. And I mean all of them.”
Killua shuddered, looking at the various pots, pans, bowls, and plates littered across the kitchen. “… point taken.”
Kurapika set the groceries on the table, helping to unpack them as (Name) smiled. “Don’t take him too seriously, he’s trying to get under your skin. If you ignore him, he’ll stop eventually. You have to stop giving him a reaction.”
“You’re acting like he’s some kind of wild animal that can’t be tamed. He’s a kid that needs some discipline, you let him get away with everything.”
(Name) scowled. “I don’t let him get away with everything, he usually is really well behaved whne you’re not around. Have you ever thought it’s not him, but you that’s the problem?”
Kurapika paused, feeling a bit hurt. “What did I do to deserve-“
He stopped, sighing softly. They both knew what he did to upset Killua, but Kurapika had hoped he would be past that by now. But at that thought, Kurapika cringed. ‘Oh course he isn’t over it, who would be? (Name) didn’t deserve that…’
Kurapika sighed, throwing the empty shopping bags in the trash. “Is there anything else you need me to do?”
(Name) looked up, humming. She had already went back to mashing up potatoes while he sulked. “You can make sure Leorio doesn’t get high before dinner.”
“On it.”
More guests arrived, in the form of Knuckle, Shoot, and Morel. They all brought desserts, which were much appreciated since Kurapika burned the cherry pie. “Aww, these look great!”
“Thanks, we got them from the bakery down the street.”
Morel and Shoot joined Leorio on the porch while Knuckle sat at the kitchen table, watching her cook. “You’ve been working hard, (Name). You made all this?”
“Yeah, but I had some help from Alluka and Menchi-“
“I can tell you did most of the work, (Name). Don’t sell yourself short.”
She nodded, her cheeks warming at the compliment. (Name) leaned towards Knuckle to give him a kiss on the cheek just as Kurapika rounded the corner to ask if she needed any help.
The blonde stared at the two, his eyes gone scarlet. Knuckle was the first to recognize the intense bloodlust emanating from behind him, seeing Kurapika when he turned around. (Name) spotted him as well. “Oh, hey Kurapika!”
Kurapika didn’t respond, only walking over to get, grabbing her arm. “(Name), I need to speak with you for a moment.”
“B-but I have something in the ove-“
Kurapika continued to pull her away, his heart racing and his stomach churning. He couldn’t stand seeing her lips touch another man, it made him seethe with rage.
“Kurapika, what is so important that you need t-“
“Why were you kissing him??”
Kurapika grabbed her by the shoulders, meeting her (e/c) eyes with his scarlet ones. She blinked before answering. “Huh? Because he was being nice to me. It was just a kiss on the cheek, and I can kiss whoever I want.”
His grip tightened slightly, the blonde biting his lip. “(Name), I-“
A knock at the door interrupted the two. (Name) used the small distraction to duck away from Kurapika and towards the door. (Name) wiped her hands off on her apron. “Coming!”
Kurapika followed behind her, attempting to get her attention again as she opened the door. Neither of them were mentally prepared for who would be behind it.
“Hello, (Name). It’s a pleasure.”
Pariston stood behind the door, holding a box of gourmet chocolates, likely bought from the local bakery. He handed them to (Name) before pushing past her into her home.
Behind him was Cheadle and several other people (Name) assumed were zodiac members. She could almost feel Kurapika tense up behind her.
“Chairwoman Cheadle, what a-“
Cheadle sighed as Kurapika began to ask her a question. “When you mentioned the get together (Name) planned, Pariston was determined to attend. I didn’t want those two to cause too much trouble, so I and a few of the Zodiac came as well.”
“Those two? I only saw Parist-“
“Hey babe, miss me?”
(Name)’s face scrunched up in disgust when Ging walked up her driveway, giving her a sly smile. Cheadle slapped a hand over her forehead, rubbing at her temple as if she already had a headache from his presence alone. “Yes, those two.”
Ging walked in, walking over the welcome mat without wiping his feet. He ended up tracking in a lot of mud, causing (Name) to twitch. Cheadle hit Ging on the shoulder. “At least act like you have manners. Take those off on the porch!”
Kurapika seemed tense, the corner of his mouth twitching downward into a nervous frown. (Name) placed a hand on his shoulder to attempt to comfort him, but he shrugged it away. She sighed, putting on a smile for the Zodiac members.
“Well, welcome everyone. Please, take a seat. There’s drinks in the cooler outside.”
They walked in, and Kurapika noticed it was all the members that had been at the meeting the other day. Pyon, Gel, Mizaistom, and Zanzai, along with Ging, Cheadle and Pariston. ‘A bit of a handful, but if everything goes well, maybe this would be a good opportunity to prove that (Name) isn’t a bad person!’
(Name) got them all drinks, smiling sweetly and making idle chat as she did some tidying up. “I’ll be back in a little bit, please make yourselves at home!”
She wiped her hands on her apron before leaving to the kitchen, Kurapika’s eyes on her ass as she left.
“She’s got quite the figure, doesn’t she?”
Kurapika’s cheeks turned bright pink when Pariston sat beside him, following his gaze. “I can see why you like her so much, not only is her nen powerful, she seems like you could put her body to use as well.”
The blonde felt his blood boil. “Don’t you dare speak of her in that way, she’s not an object.”
Pariston laughed, patting Kurapika’s shoulder playfully. “Oh my dear friend, she’s the object of your desires, is she not? You were look at her too, you sly dog. Funny, I thought you were supposed to be the rat zodiac.”
Kurapika was visually uncomfortable, his hand gripping the fabric of his pants. No, Kurapika didn’t just see her as an object to own, he loved her. He was nothing like Pariston!
Right?
“Kurapika!”
He looked up, relaxing ever so slightly when he saw (Name) walking back in. She was carrying a bowl of peach cobbler and ice cream in her hands. “I got you a little snack! I saw you didn’t eat breakfast, so I cut into the peach cobbler a little early.”
He felt his heart melt, the blonde sighing happily as she handed the bowl to him. “(Name)…”
Like the last time it was given to him, the peach cobbler was shaped into a heart, with generous scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. Pariston snickered next to him. “Wow, it’s even heart shaped. How… cute. You two… must be very close. That’s interesting, really.”
Kurapika’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like the things Pariston was insinuating, or the sinister look in his eye. “We’re not that close.”
Kurapika said this to be cautious, but (Name) tensed behind him. “I… made it how you like it.” she said softly.
Kurapika’s grip on the bowl tightened, and Pariston decided to keep going. “That wasn’t what you were saying in the meeting. Don’t you lo-“
Pariston grinned when Kurapika covered his mouth, the Kurta’s eyes scarlet with anger. “Keep your filthy mouth shut, Pariston.”
(Name) glanced at the other Zodiacs, who all looked bored, besides Ging, who was walking towards her bathroom with a groan.
“Um… I’m going to go… finish dinner.”
She gave Kurapika a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder before leaning down to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be in the kitchen, okay Pika?”
Kurapika nodded, his eyes half lidded and face red as she left. Her touch could always calm him down, and the blonde couldn’t help but watch her leave with a yearning in his soul.
“Your face is as red as your eyes, lover boy.”
Pariston laughed at Kurapika, crossing one leg over the other. “You look like your husband just left for war. I never thought you would be the clingy type, but here we are.”
“I’m… I’m not clingy. (Name) is just important to me…”
He ate his cobbler in silence, pouting. Maybe if (Name) hadn’t made him something and kissed his cheek, he wouldn’t have been teased so much. ‘I’ll just talk to her… Leorio said communication is key.’
The blonde finished his cobbler, standing up and walking towards the kitchen. He opened the door, glancing in to see (Name) humming to herself as she chopped up celery. “Kurapika? Did you enjoy the cobbler?”
He was quiet as he set his bowl in the sink. He turned on the water, filling the bowl so it could soak to make it easier for whoever washed dishes later.
“(Name)…”
She looked up, swiping the chopped celery from the cutting board into a strainer with her knife. “Yes, Pika?”
(Name) looked awfully cute in her pink, frilly apron, making the blonde short circuit for a moment before he was able to answer. “Can… can you not embarrass me like that?”
The woman paused, giving him her full attention. With an unreadable expression, she replied. “Excuse me?”
‘Fuck.’
“W-when you kissed by cheek, it was a little embarrassing. The Zodiac are my prestigious colleagues, I don’t want them thinking lesser of me. Showing weakness in front of them isn’t very-“
Her expression was now very readable. She looked hurt and upset, the soft smile she’d been wearing before completely gone. “… think lesser of you? What do you even mean by that? Am… I embarrassing to you?”
Kurapika knew he fucked up, the blonde trying his best to backtrack. “No, no you’re not embarrassing, it’s the way you act that’s emba-“
He cursed to himself, he was just digging himself in further. (Name) stared at him in disbelief, hurt evident on her face. “Are you… being serious, Pika? You think I’m embarrassing?”
He froze, his mind racing as he tried to think of a way to explain himself, but he wasn’t able to get anything out. Kurapika stuttered, face flushing in embarrassment as he tried to justify what he said. “Well, it’s just that sometimes you can do things that e-embarrass me. I…”
He went quiet. There were tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, and her lip was quivering. “Sorry, I’ll keep that in mind, Kurapika.”
Kurapika flinched. He wanted to grab at her sleeve and apologize, try to explain himself better, but she was already giving him the cold shoulder, refusing to even look at him. He hated seeing her cry more than anything, especially when he was the cause of her tears.
“(Name), please, I… just listen to me.”
“Sorry, I’m too busy being embarrassing to hear you.”
“(Name)…”
He reached out to grab her shoulder to MAKE her listen to him, but before he could the bathroom door opened. Ging walked out, holding the bottle of Febreze and spraying it. “Yeesh, I feel 10 pounds lighter. Hey (Name)!”
He turned to them, laughing. “Ah, they you are sweetheart. Shitters full, hope ya got a good plunger.”
He patted her shoulder then walked off, leaving both of them grimacing and covering their noses.
“And I’m the embarrassing one? So much for the Zodiac being prestigious…”
Kurapika grimaced. He couldn’t really argue with that, and he didn’t want to either. There was the fact that Ging wasn’t a Zodiac member anymore, but he had been one for a while. There was no excuse, really.
“Leorio, toilets clogged!”
————————
(Name) sat in the kitchen, angrily stirring a pot of cabbage. She hadn’t spoken to Kurapika since he claimed she embarrassed him, and the blonde was currently an emotional wreck. He couldn’t even pretend to keep up appearances, Kurapika openly sulked on the couch as the other guests loitered awkwardly.
“Kurapika, you’re bumming everyone out. What’s up with you?”
The blonde groaned, his head in his hands. “I’m an idiot. The worst.”
“Oh fuck, what did you say to (Name)?”
Kurapika looked up at Leorio, his face miserable. “Why do you think this has to do with (Name)?”
“Because you’re an idiot when it comes to her.”
Leorio wasn’t wrong, Kurapika’s brain did always turn to mush when (Name) was around. “I… said she was embarrassing.”
“Just when I thought you couldn’t say anything worse than the shit you said in York New, you just… go above and beyond.”
A groan left Kurapika’s throat, causing Bisky to glance in his direction. She gave the boy a sympathetic look. “Girl troubles? (Name) told me everything. I should be angry with you but…”
She crossed her legs. “If I’ve learned anything in my old age, it’s that no one would act the way you are now unless they were in love.”
Kurapika nodded slowly, his cheeks flushing a soft pink. “I do love her, I just… I say stupid and hurtful things I don’t mean. I’ve made her cry, now I can’t say I love her. Who makes the one they love cry and think all they are is an embarrassment?”
Bisky placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing it. “Everyone says things they don’t mean sometimes. What’s important is fixing that mistake and making sure the person you hurt knows that you care about them. Just talk to her, tell her how you feel.”
Kurapika scowled. “That’s the problem, she isn’t talking to me now. Every time I try to talk to her, she turns up the music on her headphones or gives me the cold shoulder.”
“Yeah, that’s to be expected. Hell, if you called me embarrassing I would have broken up with you then and there.”
“… we’re not dating.”
Bisky blinked a few times. “Ah… with the way you two look at each other, I thought… never mind. Obviously you haven’t gotten lucky yet.”
The pink on Kurapika’s cheeks turned to a bright red, Leorio trying not to crack up beside him. “Th-that’s none of your business!”
Kurapika crossed his arms, looking away as Leorio stood. “You have fun sulking, I’m gonna go get the fire started.”
(Name) sighed in relief, placing the last dish on the table. The food was finally done, all she needed was to cut everything up and set out paper plates for everyone to use!
“Need some help with that, (Name)?”
Kite was leaning against the doorway, giving her a soft smile. It took (Name) a minute to process their presence, and when she did she broke out into goggles. She ran over to hug them, looking up at them with a big smile. “Kite, you made it!”
“Of course I did, wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
They helped (Name) get the turkey cut up, along with placing a serving spoon in each dish. She sighed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “Finally…”
They ended up having to put two tables together to fit all of the food, and it looked like a feast for a king. If only Menchi could see it, but unfortunately she could only be there the day before the event to help. She had a lead on a new ingredient, and wouldn’t be able to make it.
“You did this all by yourself, (Name)?”
Kite looked over the tables, their red hair tied up into a ponytail to keep out of their face. (Name) leaned against their shoulder. “Mmm, I had some help, but most of it, yes. Thank god for Alluka and Menchi, they were both big helps.”
A soft smile took over Kite’s face. “It’s nice to see you’re allowing yourself to rely on others, (Name). It’s good progress.”
(Name)’s face heated up at Kite’s observation. Recently, she had been asking for help more often, without even realizing it. “I guess… I just have people I can rely on now.”
The two smiled at each other, before she stretched. “Well, let’s not keep the hungry people waiting.”
Kite caught her wrist before she could walk out. “(Name).”
They turned her so she was facing them. “Are you alright? You seem a bit… distracted.”
(Name) looked away from their eyes, puffing out her chubby cheeks in a pout. “I’m fine… it’s nothing.”
Kite raised an eyebrow before grabbing her cheeks in their hand and squeezing her face. “You’re fine? Why are their tear stains on your cheeks then?”
With a defeated sigh, (Name) told them what happened between her and Kurapika earlier that day. Kite nodded along, listening intently. “I see… that would be a quite upsetting situation to be in. Have you tried talking to him? From what he said, perhaps he said the wrong thing.”
(Name) huffed as she buttered the rolls. “I’ve been way too busy to deal with him. If he wants to man up, apologize, and speak to me, he can.”
Kite blinked in surprise. “(Name)…”
They smiled, patting her shoulder. “You’ve really grown, haven’t you?”
She nodded, finishing the last roll. “I… I’m not as much of a pushover as I used to be. I have friends now, friends that will back me up if I need them to. I don’t… I don’t have to put up with people mistreating me anymore.”
Kite patted her head, ruffling her hair a bit. “That’s good, name. Good girl.”
She melted at the compliment, leaning into their touch like a puppy being told how good it is. “Thank you, Kite…”
(Name) pulled away, her face a little warm. “Alright it’s really time to tell everyone it’s ready.”
The living room was occupied by the Zodiac, along with Bisky and Gon. Ging was nowhere in sight, possibly hiding from his son. “Hey guys, the food is ready, feel free to make yourself a plate!”
Cheadle stood, giving her a polite smile. “Thank you for this (Name), I know having to cook for so many people last minute wouldn’t be easy.”
“It’s fine, please, there’s plenty of food. Make yourself a plate!”
The zodiac were pleasantly surprised by how soft and sweet she was. Pariston smirked as he passed her, his hand brushing against her hip. “Thank you, princess. It smells lovely.”
She shivered, quickly retreating behind Kite, who kept their eye on the former rat zodiac. “It’s okay, (Name). He won’t bother you any further than that.”
The two made their way to the porch, where Leorio, Wing, Knuckle, Morel, Shoot, and a very awkward looking Kurapika. They all had a bottle of beer in their hands, though Kurapika had barely dipped on his.
Once the blonde spotted (Name), he looked away, seeming embarrassed and shy. Kite noticed this, glancing between the two. ‘Ah, they like each other.’
“The food’s ready, guys.”
Knuckle cheered, patting her shoulder as he walked past her. “Thanks, (Name)! Man, I’m starving!”
Morel laughed. “It smells nice, thank you for your hard work.”
He ruffled her hair, Shoot following behind him. The purple haired man gave her an appreciative smile. “Thanks, (Name). We’ve been looking forward to your cooking all year.”
She flushed over their compliments, waving her hand. “Oh, thank you… you’re all so sweet!”
Wing, who left to grab Alluka and Zushi, smiled. “Zushi always gets excited when he gets to come over. Also, I wanted to personally thank you for making the food nut free. It’s very kind of you to take Zushi’s allergies into consideration.”
“It’s no problem, really. He deserves to have a nice dinner too!”
Zushi and Alluka were both filthy, their hands and clothes covered in dirt. (Name) smiled, finding their dirty faces endearing. “Leorio, you guys go eat. I’m going to get the kiddos cleaned up.”
Leorio nodded, cupping her cheek to keep her in place so he could kiss her forehead. “You’re a doll, (Name).”
She sighed happily, leaning into his calloused hand. Leorio was always a warm and safe place for her, and when he held her so tenderly, it made everything a little easier.
Kurapika watched this interaction with a dull ache in his chest. Leorio was always able to give her affection without being awkward. Maybe he should try as well!
He stood up to say something, but from the look (Name) gave him, Kurapika knew he wasn’t getting any kisses. “Th-thank you for your efforts…”
(Name) nodded, turning on her heels. Kite gave the boy a sympathetic look before following behind her, the two kids being led by (Name) to the bathroom.
“Kite, could you keep an eye on the kitchen to make sure… some people don’t mess anything up? I’ll get the kids clean then come make myself a plate.”
Kite nodded. “If you mean keep an eye on Ging and Pariston, I’ve been doing it the entire time.”
She sighed in relief, giving them a smile before taking the two kiddos upstairs. (Name) was surprised to see Killua sitting on her bed, listening to something with headphones on. He glanced up when she walked in, reaching out his hand for her. She walked forward and took his hand, gently squeezing it. “Overstimulated?”
Killua nodded, glancing behind her two see the two filthy kids behind her. “Did they roll around in dirt?”
(Name) snickered. “That’s what I’m assuming happened. I’m going to get them washed up. Do you want to go make your plate now, or do you want me to come with you?”
He ran his thumb over the back of her hand in thought. “Could you… make me a plate and ask Gon to come upstairs with me when you’re done?”
She nodded, ruffling his hair. “Of course. Just relax, getting them tidied up shouldn’t take long.”
———————
(Name) sighed as she wiped Alluka’s face with a warm, damp rag. “Girl, you’re filthy. I expected this from Zushi, but usually you don’t like getting dirty.”
Alluka leaned into (Name)’s gentle touch, nuzzling her hand. “We were playing a fun game! I don’t like getting dirty, b-but it’s okay when it’s for a fun game!”
“Ohh, I see. Well, your nice dress will need to be washed now. How about we put you in some overalls, so you can play better?”
Alluka nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah! That sounds like so much fun!”
(Name) took off her dirty dress and set it in the hamper, then dressed Alluka in a pink sweater and jean overalls. She changed Alluka’s Mary Janes to a pair of sneakers and put her hair into a ponytail so she would be able to play more efficiently.
“There we go, all done. Look at how cute you are!”
Alluka twirled around, giggling. “Thanks, big sis! I’m so excited, I want to play now!”
(Name) laughed, pulling the girl in for a hug. “You have to eat first, okay?”
When the girl looked up, it was Nanika. “Mama… want to sit with you.”
She scooped her up, balancing her on her hip. “Okay, that’s fine with me, sweetheart!”
(Name) walked down the stairs, spotting Zushi making his plate. He was all clean now, wearing a pair of Killua’s play shorts and a shirt. “(Name), thank you for getting me all cleaned up!”
Nanika smiled, nuzzling her face into (Name)’s shoulder. “Love you, mama…”
She kissed the top of Nanika’s head. “Love you too, sweetheart.”
(Name) sat Nanika down at the table, making her a plate of food before she made one to bring up to Killua.
“Gon?”
The boy looked up. He and Kite had been catching up when (Name) walked over. “Hi (Name)! The food is so good, you did a great job!”
“Thank you, Gon. I just wanted to tell you Killua is upstairs, and he asked if you could come eat with him.”
Gon jumped up immediately, grinning. “Sure! Is that plate for him?”
“Yeah, it is. Would you mind taking it up to him?”
Gon took the plate, smiling. “Of course not, Kite, come talk to me before you leave, okay?”
(Name) began to make her plate, spitting a certain blonde walking into the kitchen. Kurapika paused, wondering whether he should stay and make his place, or if he should leave and give her some space.
“It… all looks really good, (Name).”
She hummed in response, placing a piece of turkey on her plate. Kurapika grabbed a sturdy paper plate as well, standing near her as they made their plates together. Even when (Name) was mad at him, she still gently took his hand and guided him to the food she thought he would like. “Try this, I think you would like it.”
(Name) seemed to have an endless amount of patience and kindness. Kurapika did as told, trusting her completely. He looked up just in time to see her placing a helping of the macaroni he made onto her plate. “(Name), you don’t have to. It’s probably not that good.”
She glanced at him, a slight softness in her eyes. “You worked hard on it. It doesn’t matter if it’s good or not, I’m not letting your effort go to waste.”
This made his heart race, his face turning red once again. She was so good, so sweet, he truly didn’t deserve her. ‘Oh, (Name)…’
He truly loved her so much, even when she was upset at him he still couldn’t help but melt in her presence. “Thank you… you’re such a sweetheart.”
(Name) paused as she was walking out the door, her face heating up. She didn’t respond, but felt her heart speed up.
She sat with Nanika in her lap as she ate, making small talk with the other guests. Most of the Zodiac members were keeping to themselves, but now they had spread out.
Kanzai seemed to be getting along well with Knuckle. Pyon and Gel sat together with Bisky, drinking wine with their meal and watching some hallmark movie. Mizaistom was chatting along with Kite, the two seemingly debating something.
‘Well, I’m glad they feel more comfortable,’ (Name) thought, feeding Nanika a bite of turkey. The girl munched happily, before burying her face in (Name)’s shoulder.
“Happy… mama, Alluka wants to go play…”
Nanika looked up at her, gently nuzzling her cheek against (Name)’s. The girl was very affectionate, which (Name) didn’t mind one but. “Okay, okay. You finished your food, go have some fun.”
When the girl looked back up, it’s was Alluka. “Yay, thanks big sis!”
She hugged (Name) before she ran off, giggling. “Be careful, and don’t get into too much trouble!”
(Name) finished her plate before she went back to the kitchen. She looked over the feast she made. There was still so much food left, even after everyone had made their plates. ‘This is going to be a pain to put in the fridge later.’
———————
Kurapika sat on the couch, mindlessly a scrolling on his phone. (Name) has introduced him to social medias a week or so ago, and he really enjoyed TikTok. The nature themed videos where Hunters showed the places they were exploring interested him greatly, along with fun history videos. He had seen a few inaccurate history facts that had him ranting to (Name), though.
‘Ah… (Name)…’
He was thinking about her again, and how he pretty much fucked up his chance to ask her out at the party. Kurapika sighed, turning off his phone and glancing around the living room. It was crowded, but there were also quite a few guests missing. He spotted Ging sneaking around. So far the deadbeat had been able to avoid Gon’s detection, and it seemed he was going back in for a second plate now.
“Wow, you really are pathetic, aren’t you.”
Kurapika looked to his left to see Killua peeking over his shoulder. The blonde scowled, his eyes narrowing. Usually he would take it in stride and just leave the room, but today his mood was sour and patience thin. “What the hell do you want, Killua?”
“Wow, touchy. Guess making a complete idiot out of yourself in front of (Name) can make you pretty grumpy, huh?”
Kurapika’s eyebrow twitched. “I’m really not in the mood for this today, Killua. Don’t you have someone else to annoy?”
Killua didn’t answer him, only moving to sit across from him. “Tell me, Kurapika. Do you plan on making mom wait forever? Do you actually think she would wait that long?”
“Excuse me?”
Killua sighed, shaking his head. “Figures. If you haven’t been able to figure it out yet, mom is very popular. Take Knuckle for example. He’s a nice guy that likes mom, but she hasn’t given him a chance because she likes someone else.”
The white haired boy stared at Kurapika. “Unfortunately for all of us, that person she likes is you. It’s a tragedy, really. I really wish my mom had better taste.”
Kurapika was both flustered and pissed off. He was just about tired of Killua belittling him every chance he got. “What the hell is your problem? At this point it feels less like you’re defending (Name), and more like you have some personal issue with me.”
Killua laughed. “Are you joking? Fuck, I knew you were selfish and an asshole, but I didn’t know you were delusional too. I can count on a single hand the amount of times you’ve done anything for the group. Though, that number is smaller if we take into account whether it was for your own benefit or not. Mom has helped others for nothing reason other than being a good, kind person. Not only do you not deserve her, she doesn’t deserve to be taken advantage of by you.”
Kurapika was shocked, his mouth agape. “Taken advantage of by me? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Her kindness, Kurapika. You take advantage of what a good person she is. Like a parasite, you’ve latched onto her because she makes you feel a little less pathetic than you are. You can’t love others, so you find people that can and attach yourself to them.”
“That’s not true, I do love (Name)!”
“Really? Does someone in love make their loved one sick with worry? Do they make their loved one so depressed after they leave them that they fall into a depression so bad that Leorio had to take an entire month off of college to make sure they are taken care of? Fuck, Kurapika, do you not understand the absolute hell you put mom through?
You’re fucking selfish, and now that you’ve been given a second chance you can’t even make her happy when you actually try. I think that’s what pisses me off the most, the fact that mom is kind enough to not even mention the shit you’ve done and just allow you to stay here, and you can’t do something as simple as ask her out. You’re a coward, a selfish, pathetic coward.”
Kurapika crushed the cup he was holding, glass shards flying as he stood. “That’s it, I’m sick of this. You don’t know anything about me or how I feel. Do you understand how hard it is to try and love someone after losing everyone important to you, how terrifying it is to realize that my love for her could get her killed? My clan-“
Killua groaned. “Your clan is gone, Kurapika. At this point I think you’re using this bullshit as an excuse to distance yourself emotionally. Your mission, your dear clan, blah blah blah. Who fucking cares? They’re gone!”
This sent Kurapika over the edge. He launched himself over the table, his eyes glowing scarlet as he grabbed Killua’s shirt. “Don’t you ever talk about my clan like that, you fucking-“
Killua ripped his hands off of him, laughing. “Oh, are you going to fight me over it? Go ahead, Kurapika, hit me.”
And Kurapika did just that, punching the white haired boy in the face.
——————
Leorio sat on the porch with Wing as Zushi and Alluka searched the garden for more creatures. He took a sip of his beer as the latter army crawled out from under the porch, tiny fists balled up and caked in dirt as she made a beeline to the little picnic table in the distance. Zushi smiled, flipping to a random page in a coloring book he packed.
“Perfect! Worm Court is open for business. Time to assemble the jury.”
And just like that, two little sets of hands tried to place the various critters in a two-by-six array on the wooden surface. None of them were staying put, wriggling around and falling off. Amidst their cries of “contempt of court!” and “Order! Order”’, Wing finally hazarded a glance over to Leorio.
“Were kids’ games always that…”
“Strange? I don’t question it anymore. They’re not hurting anyone though, so that’s good.”
As soon as Leorio turned away, Nanika reached under the bench and pulled out a rusty hammer. How long it had been there was unknown, and she plopped it unceremoniously onto the bench before Alluka returned again.
“That’s a relief. I know Zushi wanted to teach her more about nen this weekend, but I feel like it’d be too stressful at a large gathering like this.” Wing nodded in understanding, sipping his beer. “Speaking of mastering nen, a little bird told me you’ve improved by leaps and bounds in your own journey? How’s that working out for you?” Leorio lit up at the praise, trying to rein in his excitement with a cough.
“Oh! Um, yeah. Yeah, I think I’ve figured out how to use my nen effectively enough for healing”, Leorio flushed a little, clearing his throat. It wasn’t every day a nen master praised your hard work after all.
“That sounds like a great application for it, I’d love to see it in action sometime.”
Leorio smiled, happy to share all the ideas he’s come up with so far.
“It’ll really come in handy for medical sc-“
CRASH!
The screen door slammed open, the wooden frame snapping in the middle and rattling the side of the house with sheer velocity. Fists were flying in a tornado of white, gold, and blue, and the men jumped back on reflex.
“Hey, HEY! What the hell is going on h-WOAH!”
It slowed down enough for Leorio to notice the two instigators as none other than Kurapika and Killua, and when he went to pull the latter back by the collar of his shirt he ducked out of reach, paying no mind.
“You mother FUCKER-“ Killua picked up the blonde by his tabard, only for him to spit out a little blood, scarlet eyes glowing with fury and…mischief? Kurpika, bruised and bloody gave him a shit-eating grin before he finally spoke.
“I sure am, what about it?”
The words took a moment to register in Killua’s head, but as soon as they clicked into place, he saw nothing but red.
Killua tossed him backward into the fire pit (Name) had dragged out to the porch for special gatherings, but Kurapika grabbed onto the boy, sending both of them tumbling off the porch as the railing splintered beneath their collective weight. The fire pit rolled into the flower bushes, and the rose bush was engulfed in flames, burning steadily as they traveled up the plant. A few feet away, not even acknowledging the accidental arson, Killua rolled over to pin Kurapika to the ground, fists flying as he wailed on the man below him.
“YOU”- he punched Kurapika, punctuating his words with blow after blow. “LEAVE”- a hand came up, trying to shove him off but he pushed it to the ground, standing up. “MY MOTHER”- another haymaker to the temple. “OUT OF THIS!” Killua finished with a solid kick to the groin, reaching for a split wooden beam and raising it to strike. In a flash, Kurapika blindly kicked him in the leg to fall on his ass with a dull thud.
Killua looked up just in time to see Kurapika grab a shitty plastic chair by the headrest, the latter chuckling dangerously as the cheap red material quickly began to dull in comparison to the scarlet rage overtaking his irises. He waved the 2x4 menacingly, almost daring the blonde to come closer.
Wing and Leorio watched, horrified as the two of them battled it out. Not with nen, like one might see in a clean fight, or normal blades like that of a sparring match- but with scattered debris, bloodied fists and all of the finesse and gracefulness of a couple of drunken sailors. Realizing they need to put a stop to it before it got any worse, Wing stepped forward as Leorio attemptsy to stomp out the blackening shrub.
“That’s enough! This is no way for dignified hunters to act, especially a couple of nen users such as yourselves. You two ought to be ashamed!”
Kurapika, too far gone to pay attention to much else, swung the chair at Killua menacingly as the younger one parried it with the splintered 2x4. The trajectory and force were enough to knock not just the glasses off of his head and onto the lawn, but the beer right out of his hands as well. The bottle ricocheted off the chair, flying towards the large oak tree before shattering into a million pieces like some sort of horrible glass baseball.
It left a dark stain on the trunk in its wake, trickling down the bark and down into the pile of shards left behind. Despite the impact, Kurapika never faltered, either unaware of what just transpired or completely indifferent.
‘They’re not even using nen, they’re just fighting dirty…it’s like they want to revel in the destruction, to feel the blood on their hands themselves.’ Wing felt around his immediate vicinity for the frames, before Leorio spotted them a few yards away. Placing them back on the man’s face and helping him up, he patted his shoulder and shot a glare at the duo, seemingly out for blood.
“Wing, the hose is on the left of the house. Put the flowers out, and I’ll see if (name) has some frozen peas you can put on your bruise.”
He nodded sprinting across the floor porch as Leorio hurried in to see (Name) minding her own business, putting up the food. He glanced back over to the door again, little more than a pile of mesh and scrap wood. Between the stress of cooking, company, and cleaning, (Name) seemed too preoccupied to notice the damage. He silently thanked the stars above
‘They’ll sort it out themselves, the last thing she needs is more stress’, he thought to himself. If Kurapika wanted to make an ass of himself in front of the Zodiacs by decking a 14 year old, then that was his problem. Right now, he needed to find something cold for Wing to use as a compress.
She had sent mostly everyone out, claiming the kitchen tended to get chaotic, and he would have laughed at the irony if he wasn’t so worried about the fiasco going on just outside. Her hair was a mess, favorite apron is covered in various stains and spills, and plates upon plates were scattered onto various surfaces. He nearly left undetected when she sensed his aura, turning her head.
“Hey Leorio, what’s up?”
His mouth was dry, trying to figure out the best way to explain himself and possibly buy some time when she paused and frowned. Leorio tried to follow her line of sight and saw Wing by the window, followed by… a garden hose?
“Oh, did Alluka get all muddy from worm hunting under the porch again? I thought I told her not to do that until after dinner.” As soon as she said that, the oven went off, and she slips on a pair of Hello Kitty mitts, sliding the pie dish out and closing the door with her hip with a practiced ease. Placing it onto the burners to cool and slipping them off again, she offered them to Leorio. “Could you hang these up for me? “
Leorio realized what she saw just a second too late, powerless to stop her as she turned the stove off to rush past and see what was going on firsthand
“Leorio, what’s going on? And why do I smell something burning?!”
“Nothing! It’s just the kids get a little rowdy is all, and Wing needed an ice pack.”
Ging’s voice tore through the clattering of pots and pans like a warcry for deadbeat dads from the porch.
“WOOORLDSTAAAARRR!”
By the time (name) made it to the front door (what was left of it anyway), she was met with Wing frantically trying to put out the last of the fire as Leorio pulled the broken pit away from the bushes. The railing was completely destroyed on one side of the steps, and there was scorch marks all over the wood. Finally, Leorio cleared his throat.
“Thats not…what we called you out for”, (Name) followed the man’s gaze, before landing on Kurapika and Killua rolling around in the front yard in a mess of flailing limbs and screaming. This time, however, it looked as though Kurapika finally got the upper hand.
“You little bastard, have you always been this insufferable?! You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?!”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Killua sunk his teeth into Kurapika’s arm, relishing in the anguished scream that rippled from the man’s throat.
“You think I’m afraid of your goofy ass Ghost Of Christmas Past attacks!?”
She got about four steps forward before a jet stream of water shot out from behind her, soaking the boys as they froze up instantly. Wing held the hose and glared at them, and white hot shame crept up upon both of them.
“If you want to fight like animals, you’ll be treated as such.
It quickly turned to dread however as soon as Kurapika noticed (Name) marching over, brandishing a wooden spoon and a scowl that somehow manages to chill him even more than the garden hose. Leorio had given her a quick explanation, along with Bisky who had heard what happened inside.
“(Name)! I can explain”
“Mom”-
“Killua, you didn’t need to bring his family into this. You know it’s a sore subject.” The boy in question was pouting as she flicked his forehead. Kurapika snickered but it died down instantly when she redirected her ire to him.
He yelped when she smacked him over the head with the wooden spoon. “And YOU’RE not much better. Who the hell throws hands with a child, Kurapika?! You’re a grown man. Come on.”
She narrowed her eyes at the two, who couldn’t even look her in the face. “Don’t you ever think about hitting each other again, we’re friends. Act like it.”
They nodded, and (Name) sighed.
“Both of you can do the dishes. I think that’s fair. Maybe it’ll teach you to get along too.”
The two grumbled, but quieted down when she pointed to the kitchen using her wooden spoon. “Go, now. I want them done within 30 minutes, or neither of you are getting any dessert.”
——————
The two stood in the kitchen, silent as they both washed dishes. They got a system going, where Kurapika washed, and Killua rinsed and dried.
(Name) had healed their injuries to the best of her abilities before they went inside, getting all of the big wounds and gashes dealt with. Now they were covered in bruised and little scratches, but were overall okay.
Kurapika glanced out the window to see (Name) walking to Leorio, Kite, and Wing, the woman looking distressed. When she started to talk frantically, Leorio pulled her into a hug. Kurapika felt awful for causing her trouble, and when he looked to his right, he saw he wasn’t alone in that.
Killua also looked guilty, looking at (Name) with soft, concerned eyes. Though they were different, Killua and Kurapika shared one thing.
They both loved (Name).
The blonde sighed, setting down the rag for a moment. “Killua… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let my anger get the better of me, hitting you was unacceptable.”
Killua was quiet for a moment before he nodded slowly. “I… I’m sorry too. I… was just so angry when I saw (Name) upset again over you that… I snapped. You were right, I… don’t know you or how you feel, and saying that about your clan…”
Kurapika shook his head, patting the boy on the back. “It’s alright, Killua. Water under the bridge.”
The two smiled at each other. “Okay, okay… and I have to admit, you’re pretty skilled, Kurapika. That’s the most fun I’ve had during a fight in years.”
The two laughed, laughing and joking like old times.
It calmed down a little and Killua sighed, trying to be serious. “Can I ask you a question? Man to man?”
“Hm? You’re fourteen, I’d hardly call that a man. But go ahead.”
Killua glared, but elected to ignore the remark in favor of getting information out of him.
“You love (name), don’t you?”
“…”
His silence spoke volumes, but Killua already knew his answer before then. He was just looking for confirmation.
“She let you back into her life, and I know she forgives you. Not that you deserve it, but a second chance just fell into your lap. I feel like you’re still holding her at arm’s length though. And don’t think she doesn’t notice, because she does. She’s a lot more perceptive than people give her credit for.”
“I…even if I were to stay in her life, I don’t deserve to be that close to her. I’m lucky to be her friend.”
“You don’t even want to try? Like at all?”
“Killua, it’s not that simple.”
“If it’s because you think you don’t deserve her, shouldn’t that motivate you to WANT to be better? And become someone she deserves?”
“People can’t change. If I get too close, I’ll lose my rage. That’s the only thing keeping me going right now.”
“Oh noooo, I can’t be around this person because they make me less angry~!” Killua replied mockingly, putting his soapy hands up in defense when Kurapika glared at him. “That’s called being comfortable around someone. And people can too change, genius.”
“The spiders will always be cold blooded killers. There’s no room for redemption.”
“Okay, maybe not everyone”, Killua rolls his eyes, of course Kurapika had an exception up his sleeve. “But for the most part, we do. (Name) told me once that stagnation is a fate worse than death. If you aren’t evolving as a person, then what the hell are you doing?”
Kurapika blinked in surprise, putting the plate down and grabbing a cup to wash. “I…guess that makes sense? You’ve mellowed out a bit over the years Killua.” He didn’t want to outright admit that Killua had matured, or he’d risk him getting a big head.
“No shit Sherlock. She gave me a loving home and enrolled me in therapy. Being loved didn’t nerf me, if anything it made me stronger. Now I’m emotionally stable, nourished, and thriving. I stand a way better chance at kicking someone’s ass now.”
The last dish was dried and put away, and the two of them came out to the living room where everyone is huddled on the couch or near it, the TV playing some sort of holiday special. (Name) noticed them, and waved them over. He noticed she changed into something more comfortable, but when he recognized the faded pattern on the sleeves he had to do a double take.
It was the same one she had during the hunter exam, but back then it was much newer and vibrant.
“You’re just in time, we were about to start Charlie Brown!” Killua joined her, and like clockwork she removed the sleeve so he could put half of it on like an oversized blanket. “This thing is kind of old, (name). It’s cozy, but definitely seen better days.”
“I know, I mostly wear it to bed or knocking around the house, but I love it too much to get rid of it. It’s one of the comfiest things I own, even if it’s golden days are long gone”, she ruffled his hair and Kurapika joined her on the other side.
“It still serves its purpose, Killua. We don’t all need a giant wardrobe”, Kurapika teased good-naturedly, and the boy in question lifted his head to stick a tongue out at him.
“It’s one of those that gets softer the more you wash it”, (name) helpfully supplied. “It just means it’s well loved, and it loves you back. Time is irrelevant when you’re this cozy.”
Kurapika hummed, leaning a head against her other shoulder. A few minutes into the movie, his phone pinged with a message from Killua, who sighed in contentment before closing his eyes. Kurapika opened up the message and saw attachment: 1 image.
Wholly expecting another stupid meme, like that god awful Megamind “no bitches” thing he got like clockwork every time he did something bad in front of (Name), he sighed and opened it intending to leave him on read. Instead, he was greeted with a side by side comparison of what looked like a couple of plush Garfield cats. One plush looked brand new, while the other was worn down from use. The text said “to be loved is to be changed.”
He thought back to what Killua said earlier about how stagnating was a fate worse than death.
He knew his mission was dangerous, but at the same time, would it really be okay for him to get close to (name)? It was just a stupid Garfield meme, he shouldn’t be reading this much into it, but before he realized it he was tearing up. (Name) looked over and frowned.
“Kurapika, are you alright? What’s wrong?”
A gentle hand cupped his cheek, her thumb swiping away his tears. Kurapika sighed in contentment, leaning into her touch. “It’s nothing, just… thinking about things, what I want to do with my time.”
(Name) nodded, retracting her hand and allowing him to lean back against her shoulder.
She seemed a bit more relaxed, the two not knowing she was watching their little interactions just moments before. “By the way Kurapika, Leorio wanted me to tell to meet him on the porch asfter this movie.”
The blonde nodded, looking down at her. “(Name)… when I get back… we need to talk, okay?”
(Name) paused, Killua giving him a thumbs up from behind her. “Oh, um… alright.”
She sounded hesitant, but it was an improvement from her ignoring him. The three watched He gave her a sneaky kiss to her cheek before walking out to meet Leorio.
Leorio and Kite sat on the front porch. It seemed most of the guests had gone home. Knuckles, Shoot, Morel, Pyon, Gel, Kanzai, and Mizaistom were gone already.
“Kurapika, sit.”
Leorio gestured for a wicker chair sat next to the two. The blonde took it, glancing between the two. “What did you call me out for?”
“You seemed pretty… antsy earlier,” Kite explained as Leorio rummaged a small metal box.
“Antsy is an understatement, you looked insane. I really thought you were about to start growling and foaming at the mouth for a moment there.”
Kurapika flushed at Leorio’s words, feeling ashamed of his actions. “I know, I’ve already apologized to Killua.”
“Shit, he wasn’t much better. Trust me, I know Killua, he can be a real asshole, but he’s still a kid.”
Kurapika nodded, looking at his lap. Leorio was right of course, he usually was. “So, what did you want?”
Leorio smiled, finishing his task and pulling out a blunt from the metal box. “I want you to relax and smoke with us. Take a breather, chill with the boys- or well, Kite and I.”
Kite rolled their eyes. “I told you I don’t care what you call me, Leorio.”
Leorio blushed, waving his hand apologetically while Kurapika processed what the dark haired man was offering. “You want me to get high with you? Is that smart, considering I pissed off (Name) enough today? She hates when I smoke.”
“See, you need to relax. Stop worrying about (Name) for a minute. You worry so much that you stress yourself out, making you snap at others. You’ll be way better to (Name) if you learned to chill out and take care of yourself every one in a while.”
Kurapika leaned back in his chair as Leorio lit up the blunt, taking a puff before passing it to Kite.
“Come on, Kurapika. It’ll help you relax.”
Kite held out the blunt to Kurapika, smiling. The blonde stared at the two. “Am I being peer pressured right now?”
“Yes,” the two said in unison.
He groaned and took the blunt, holding it out. “Just one puff.”
———————
(Name) looked up when Kurapika stumbled into the house, a dopey smile on his red face. Once he spotted her, the blonde made a whining sound, immediately clinging to her as he rubbed his cheek against hers. “Mmm… (Name)…”
The woman squeaked, squirming in his strong grip as he pulled her closer, peppering kisses into her cheeks and neck. “K-Kurapika, what are you-“
She paused, sniffing his shirt. “Oh god damn it, are you high? Leorio did this, didn’t he?”
(Name) huffed as Kurapika nuzzled his nose agaisnt hers, clinging to her like she was his lifeline in a storm. “Just want you… lemme hold you, ‘kay?”
She didn’t protest, leading him to the living room so he could snuggle her on the couch. He seemed so attached to her, and as soon as they laid down he squished his face into her chest, nuzzling until he was comfortable.
The woman wanted to pretend she was annoyed, but honestly she found him cute when he was like this. Whenever he was inebriated, Kurapika could let go of all of his limitations and do what he really wanted. He wanted to be near her, for every part of his body to be in contact with hers. It made him so happy to lie on top of her, his face in her breasts and arms wrapped around her.
“(Name)…”
She hummed in response, running her fingers through his blonde hair. “What is it, Kurapika?”
“I…”
He looked up at her, his eyes a little red from smoking. “I’m really sorry… I know… I say stupid and hurtful things sometimes… but just know…”
He blinked at her sleepily, leaning forward to the point their lips were only an inch apart. “I care about you… a lot… so, so much…”
(Name) sighed happily when he kissed her, feeling his tongue gently lap at her lip, asking for forgiveness and acceptance. With a little nip to his lip, she allowed him in, holding his face tenderly.
Though their tongues danced and their breaths were heavy, the kiss wasn’t arousing. It felt loving, sweet, a kiss people who loved each other would share. When they pulled away, Kurapika’s eyes were soft, looking into hers with so much love (Name) felt her body would explode. “Mmm…”
He laid his head back down, his lips pressing kisses into her neck sleepily. ‘I love you…’ he thought, his hands gently caressing her sides.
The two soon fell asleep on the couch, being covered up by Leorio and hour later. Guests left, leaving Kurapika and (Name) in peace.
Leorio, Kite, and Bisky sat on the porch, talking as they drank. “It seems those two have made up.” Bisky said with a laugh, swirling her wine glass.
“Yeah, it seems so. They both looked pretty happy.” Leorio agreed, staring into the neck of his beer bottle. Kite only sighed, leaning into his chair.
“Does he still not know about the Chimera Ant situation?”
The other two went quiet at Kite’s question, not daring to look up. “He doesn’t, does he?”
“No, he doesn’t even know about the letter, or the fact she nearly killed herself after what he did in York New,” Leorio said gravely, setting down his drink. “She said it would absolutely destroy him. Sometimes I hate how she always thinks about others before herself.”
Bisky nodded. “She cares about Kurapika so much, she won’t even tell him just how badly his actions affected her in fear that it would push him over the edge. Apparently, when she would sleep next to him during the Hunter Exam, he would talk about ending his life after finding the scarlet eyes in his sleep. It really messed with her head.”
Kite cleared their throat. “Well, it has to come out eventually. Keeping all of these secrets helps no one, especially the fact that (Name) has worked with the Phantom Troupe. If he finds out on his own, he might assume she’s a traitor when she’s actually been helping him by being getting information. He gets too angry, he wouldn’t be able to comprise with them.”
Leorio sighed, the man looking much more tired than before the conversation started. “Yeah, I know. I just hope Kurapika is ready for all of that information. Hell, Gon doesn’t even know any of it, he doesn’t even know Kurapika’s the one that broke (Name)’s wrist.”
The three sat in silence, knowing that eventually, these secrets would come to light.
They were just hoping it would be of (Name)’s own free will.
#fixer upper kurapika x reader#perv!kurapika#x reader#anime x reader#headcanon#requests open#reader insert#hxh x reader#hxh imagines#smut requests#hunter x hunter x reader#kurapika x reader#kurapika x y/n#anime x chubby reader#chubby!reader#chubby reader#fem reader#female reader#anime reader insert#hunter x hunter headcanons#hunter x hunter smut#kurapika smut#kurapika hcs#fem!reader#hunter x hunter#hxh#killua hxh#hxh leorio#gon hxh
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WAAAAAAGHHG HEY ITS ME AGAIN IM SO SORRY I HAVE A THOUGHT AND DONT KNOW WHO ELSE TO GIVE IT TO: Im going to try really hard to be quick!! Still reeling from ep 8!!! (I have so many thoughts and emotions- tldr I know it struggled with pacing but I just really loved it. I’m so glad this show exists. Not going to recover anytime soon!! Excellent.)
I think the ending is a great setup for what could be coming next! Looking back at this season as a whole it feels to me like they had two major points they zeroed in on: 1- Edward’s state of mind. We spend a lot of time with him when no one else is- we’re with him in his head while he tries to process what he wants and how he’s going to get it. We see him wrestle with feeling unlovable, and then we sort of sit with him in his pov while he starts, (STARTS!! He’s not done yet!!) to understand that he IS loved and there ARE people waiting for him. 2- The Golden Age of piracy is ending. They lost The Republic of Pirates, they lost Spanish Jackie’s bar, Zhengs fleet, and they lost Izzy, the most pirate to ever pirate. After the couple of weeks(??) season two takes place- the OFMD cinematic universe is going to be different for pirates now.
ALL THAT TO SAY- after Izzy’s funeral, (rip king I sobbed lol) when Zheng asks Ed and Stede to team up- Stede says something like, “He needs a minute”/“Maybe give him a minute”. So they agree to help- but they stay behind to build their inn. (“It’s a fixer upper, but the bones are good.” ITS THEM ITS THEM THEYRE EACHOTHERS FOUNDATIONS THEY JUST HAVE TO BUILD ONTO IT TO MAKE IT A HOME IM GOING TO TURN TO ASH) this is a decision both of them make- this will give them time to just be. I think Ed still has a ways to go, and talks to have, and maybe needs some time to grieve Izzy, but Stede is there, and they love eachother, and they will be ok. Shit will still go down, and they’ll get involved again eventually, but they’re going to take a minute. NOW. That wraps up this season as a part two of a Three part show- we have a setup for the next big bad, and we’ve focused a lot on Ed (accompanied by Stede’s) issues/insecurities with a focus on Ed having to deal with his issues directly. He had to sit and talk, honestly talk. Do you know. Which half of our main pair. Has not done that?? The guy who the show still deliberately makes a point of showing us he is STILL. NOT OK. Granted, he had the end of season one to realize what he wanted and what he felt, but then we had so many moments this season of him reacting to those feelings but not actually talking about them to anyone. SO. What if the last season is meant to be point 2 revisited- piracy is still ending, the world is changing so how do we deal? And point 1, but FLIPPED. WHAT IF. Season three is Stede’s turn revisited??? Season three with Ed AND Stede TALKING and Stede genuinely coming to terms with the fact that the people he loves are not better off without him- that he doesn’t have to earn the love he thinks he doesn’t deserve?? What if he gets to take that final step into a new world where being a pirate can’t be the same as it was before, but that spirit carries on and now he knows he’s loved and has worth regardless?? I STILL WANT THAT MAN TO BE THROWN IN THE EMOTIONAL BATHTUB IS WHAT IM SAYING. I don’t know if this is anything, or if this is true or accurate!!! Do I just want to see them kiss and cry some more?? MAYBE. Aaaaagh I just really hope djenks gets to made season 3- he deserves to finish his pirate story and I would very much like to be here when he does. hbo max count your days.
Also I once again want to thank you for your thoughts and screams over the course of this season- you really are incredible at character analysis and it’s been an absolute pleasure to come running over to this corner after each episode to see what you think. Thank you for posting. YOU. are WONDERFUL THANK YOU <3 <3 (also. Also also. THEY KISSED SO MANY TIMES ED READ STEDES FUCKIN LETTER ED SAID I LOVE YOU AND THEY ARE NO LONGER SEPARATED. MARRIAGE. I CANT BELIEVE THIS SHOW IS THE WAY IT IS. There is still an owch but!!! It’s a good owchie now 😭😭)
I AM ONCE AGAIN HONORED TO GET SUCH A BEAUTIFUL STRING OF THOUGHTS IN MY INBOX??? <3
PARTICULARLY EXCITED, HAPPY, POSITIVE ONES SJDKSDS LIKE I AM HUGGING YOU SO SO TIGHT <3 <3 <3
AND ALSO, I'M SHARING SO MANY OF YOUR SENTIMENTS TOO SDJKJSHDKLS LIKE-
*INHALES* So seeing the little house in the BTS footage ~*~fucked me up~*~ because I just had a FEELING it was going to be both literal and symbolic for them and their relationship. A little house that's struggling, and falling apart in some places, but is still standing after years and years of battering. It's been through the wringer, yet it still flourishes with so much life and beauty. And it has the potential to grow into something even more beautiful and strong with some mutual effort and tender love and care.
AND THAT'S THEM!!! THAT'S THEIR RELATIONSHIP!!! Like, as you said, they're BOTH still so hurt. They BOTH still have issues to work on. But now they're there, together. They're standing on the same, rickety, wooded floors. They're there, ready to patch things, side by side.
AND YES, I've very much thought it was going to be Stede for Season 1's focus, Ed for Season 2's focus, and then both of them for Season 3's focus, but I do like your idea of it looping back around to Stede! Or maybe like, SHARING the focus. Because, as you said, Stede needs his fRIGGIN BATHTUB, and Ed still needs time to figure out who he is.
It's just such a delicious setup indeed, and I am crossing my fingers so so hard that it gets greenlit quickly for us here. There's just so much MEAT to their dynamic that's still left, still so much to be EXPLORED AND GROWN. AND ESPECIALLY, LIKE YOU SAID, WITH THEIR WORLD COMPLETELY CHANGING AROUND THEM TOO!!! THE BRITISH!!! THE REVENGE BEING CAPTAINED BY FRENCHIE!!!! ZHENG AND AUNTIE WANTING TO GET AT RICKY!!!!!! SO SO MUCH!!!!!!!
BUT anyway, thank YOU so much for taking the time to come in here and share YOUR thoughts, too! It's been such a delight reading them, and I'm so glad we could MUTUALLY SCREAM SDJKSDKLS <3
#Answered#oh-dear-gracious#OFMD#OFMD Season 2#OFMD S2 Spoilers#Gentlebeard#Blackbonnet#Edward Teach#Stede Bonnet
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Game Review: Firmament
EDIT 2023-06-08: I have been informed that developers used so called AI tools to assist with asset and story development. Needless to say this makes my review moot. You should not give money to Cyan for Firmament if you haven't already.
There is something of a pit in my stomach when I think about my gameplay experience with Firmament. Deep in that pit, in a modest Dutch Colonial fixer-upper, lives the potential for this game. The setting has so much more story to tell than we were given. It lives in that Myst-like space where we enter a world at its nadir. Violent collapse has occurred, but we hold a glimmer of hope for what comes next. That is not an unfamiliar formula for fans of Cyan. Is our Virgil trustworthy, or is she leading us to damnation? Who are we when the game tells us that deep sleep erases memory? We’re told that we are the next and possibly last of the many Keepers. A collective whose goal is the preservation of a cooperative order that will create a livable world for the Arrivers. Our Mentor gives us a mission—activate a series of towers, and prepare the worlds for the Embrace. In order to do so we must complete a series of traversal puzzles with our handy dandy Adjunct—a device clearly designed for VR compatibility at the cost of the expected Cyan gameplay experience. Pausing for a moment to lift ourselves to the meta-context of this game, Cyan pitched backers on the notion of what I’m calling VR-first design when they reached out for crowdfunding in early 2019. I think that context is necessary to understanding the game, so let’s talk about it after the cut.
When the game first entered crowdfunding, I had come fresh off of a re-play of Obduction. Obduction is a game that by all accounts is a triumph of Cyan design aesthetics, and when I saw the project page for Firmament, I was ready to dive in right then and there. Games have development cycles, so I knew I would be waiting. Then 2020 happened. The project, by necessity, had to be scaled back from the early tech demos. A decision was made to redouble the focus on the Adjunct tool. It would now interact almost exclusively with nodes. This meant paring down puzzles that did not interact with the core mechanic. Cyan did not shy away from the fact that the game was going to be scaled back, and even spoke of it as a function of approachability. We know all this because they, throughout the development cycle sent numerous detailed backer updates. For all I may detract from the final product, I must equally praise the communication from Cyan. As a designer, I know games take time. Coding shaders, composing dynamic music, writing scripts, creating environments, there is so much that goes into creating a video game and Cyan kept their supporters in the loop on every part of the process. Nevertheless, it is abundantly clear the game was scaled back. I finished the game in 8, with at least an hour of that time tabbed out to work on personal projects.
The gameplay, with its VR-first design, leaves so much to be desired. Instead of the interactivity we’ve come to expect from Cyan games—with even mundane objects being game entities—we instead have a far more empty world, where every puzzle is solved by the Adjunct. In late Curievale, there is a puzzle wherein you ride an elevator up and down, then connect 4 nodes after running back across the zone in order to then run across the zone again to get to the next puzzle. The tedium of trying to finesse the nodes so that your fully upgraded adjunct will do its job is an essential mechanic to the game’s limited longevity. In the subsequent Curievale puzzle, there’s a section where the game expects you to fire a node through a miniscule gap in some ice. The puzzle isn’t about how you engage with the elements of the problem, but about how you can master ways around the physics engine. A game that uses janky controls as a difficulty gate is effectively trying to frustrate you into a longer gameplay experience. And that refrain repeated a few times while I traversed the three still visually stunning worlds.
A few months before I write this, Clayton Ashley of Polygon put out a video wherein he praises the pseudo-genre of note-taking games, and indeed does highlight their heyday by citing entries from Cyan’s game library. It bears repeating here, Firmament was designed as a VR-first game. Nothing breaks immersion in VR quite like needing to take off your headset to write things down on paper. And this fact is the truest tragedy of Firmament’s gameplay. I think fondly of getting to break out a notebook to teach myself the grid system of base 4 numbers used by the Villein in Obduction. Here, gone is the simple joy of having to learn to solve puzzles. Learning, finding secrets, and sniffing out details of the world are one of the key drivers of exploration in a puzzle game. Without that element, the worlds, despite their gorgeous and massive scale, feel lifeless. Not in the way a game like the Witness feels both lifeless and lived-in, but rather one that feels devoid of any interest. Like the world has been sanitized after everyone disappeared. It’s an empty platform on a disused subway line that has been assiduously scrubbed of any evidence of life or use. We get some bits and pieces of story, intentionally obscured by our Mentor and her agenda. Most of what we learn is told to us as a series of cryptic Proper Nouns. We don’t get a look at why until the game has been completed, twist largely untelegraphed. Myst and Obduction have bad endings that you might reach if you’re not carefully exploring and studying clues. Firmament is far too linear for that. There’s a cavernous echo where those human story elements would be in other Cyan games, and worst of all they skipped out on the FMV, an essential part of the Cyan charm.
So that I’m not just endlessly ripping on this game, let’s talk about what it does well. The aesthetic design and practicality of the setting is fascinating and beautiful. They have made gorgeous use of Art Deco style to produce a world that feels narratively coherent, nostalgic and futuristic all at once. The Arches combine that styling with a sci-fi megastructure to create that cohesive and stunning visual language. The Adjunct provides clear direction in puzzle solving by making obvious the possible interactions, though this is somewhat of a trade-off when puzzles become jank fights. The game leaves me wishing and wanting to know so much more about the setting, and that is the mark of compelling world design. There are also some truly fun puzzles like the greenhouse platform puzzle that call to mind that very Myst-like feeling of nostalgia. Each of those elements still feels insufficient to make this game what I had hoped it would be. I so desperately wanted to love this game, as badly as the soft-boy kindness influencer wants to be bi for clout. But like the milquetoast wishes-he-wasn’t-straight man, I just can't bring myself to swallow the nut this game offers.
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Entry #5.
Hello again, almost a whole year later.
I can’t say it’s been good. It’s just been.. I guess.
My nephew(referred to as “Monkey”) passed away in February. To the fault of his parents. He was only 2 years old. It’s heartbreaking. I miss him. I wish I could’ve spent more time with him. I hold a lot of anger and I can’t really tell anyone about it without causing more harm.
My niece had a birthday party in March, the first one the Kid stayed and had fun during the entirety of. I was so proud of them. Bittersweet. Monkey wasn’t there, of course.
I don’t remember much after that I don’t think. Summer was very hard. I did everything I could to survive it. The Kid is non-speaking, and it’s hard to progress while they’re not in school. They’re up my ass all day, everyday when school isn’t in. Not long ago I got to go on a small trip to the beach. That seemed very healing. It seems I’ve been in a good mood since, but we just got approved for a house.
I’m excited of course, but the stress that comes with it is insane. We can barely afford the mortgage, a whopping $1500+, at 7%. I pray we’ll be able to refinance in a couple years. It’s gonna take most of our savings for the down payment and closing costs. I’m terrified we’ll go bankrupt. I have no option for childcare and am unable to get a job. I’m on all the waiting lists for delivery jobs. With the Kid in PK, hours are short. My only job option would be busting my ass at a factory third shift and never sleeping. I’ll do that when absolutely necessary, but for now I’d like to be a functioning human, and a good mother and spouse. Of course, we’re still living in a townhouse waiting for the inspection to pass, and the original homeowners to fix up some last minute things.
The positives are building equity. Being able to have a real home for my family. The Kid will have a backyard finally, and their own room. We’ll be able to make this home our own, and I’m ecstatic for that. In time I’ll be able to garden, have room for hobbies, decorate how I want. The city is building up quite a lot, and no mater what happens we ought to make money off this house. Whether we sell in a few years, or twenty.
The new me has been recovering the apartment from summer. It’s not going too bad. I need to do laundry and dishes once I get off here. Spot clean the pig’s cage. Charge the Kid’s Voice. Pray I remember to take my meds. I’m going to say tomorrow will be much better than today. Today was only negative thoughts and fears. I’m over it. Tomorrow is surveys for some quick cash. Maybe some yoga. Lord knows it’s been too long since I’ve practiced. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
Cheers to marijuana, the quick mood fixer upper.
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Updates…
So, perhaps you saw my post yesterday. Where did that come from? Well, I do have tons and tons of friends and tend to be a social butterfly as described by others, so it’s not like I’m all alone. I’m also not afraid of being alone with myself…I’ve taken many week long trips by myself and even hiked alone in sections of this country where there were signs everywhere that say “DO NOT hike alone.”
I feel like the problem of loneliness is stemming from the fact that I am such a social person that living alone just is taking a toll on me. One thing that helps me is being on the phone and talking to friends or significant others….while I’m doing my house work. I would be fine if the significant other was there, but I don’t really want to invite friends over while I’m doing all my chores because then I have to entertain them too. Yes, I have met a few who absolutely refuse to talk to me while I’m doing chores either because it might be too distracting to them or because they think I’m not paying enough attention to them.
Over a month ago, I re-signed up (only out of desperation) for Facebook dating, since It’s Just Lunch hasn’t been providing me with enough matches. I went out on four dates with someone from FBD. Unfortunately, I don’t think we’re a great match. At least at this point in our lives. She bought a fixer-upper house in Fall of 2021 and she can do much of the work herself, however early in 2022, she hurt her wrist and the pain has been so debilitating that she can’t even open a bottle of water, thus putting everything on hold. On the third date she was asking me to paint her kitchen and mow her lawn. I have enough trouble and spend enough time trying to maintain my own house, I really don’t want to work on someone else’s house. Meanwhile, she was telling me about how she got a volunteer from her church to paint her bedroom, and she was complaining about the job he did. She also doesn’t know how to cook and at one point said “If you mow my lawn, I’ll microwave you some lasagna.” While not being able to cook isn’t necessarily a deal breaker, it’s the way she makes me feel that’s a turn off. When she tells me all the stuff she wants to do but can’t because of her wrist, I get overwhelmed and stressed. I saw into her home which was kind of a pig sty, that made the stress even more. I get it that a relationship is ‘work’ but especially in the early days of dating, I should feel at ease and a sense of joy.
This week, again only out of desperation, I signed up for Tinder. Even though this is not the type of person I normally am, I originally was thinking of making Tinder just for one-night-stands, literally just so I could get a few hugs being the M.O. Then I thought again when my last date from FBD was talking about how she saw the same people on Tinder and FBD. So I nixed that idea, but am staying on Tinder for now.
Yesterday, one of the breakdowns was caused by how I felt about online dating. If you’re a guy, the number one way to feel untrusted and like a felon is to try and meet a lady on line. I don’t get it with the “lets chat online before we meet for coffee” thing. Dude. It’s literally coffee. We can chat online for six freaking months, but until we meet in person, I’m not going to know if you’re using out-of-date photos. I’m not going to know if you are unable to put your phone down for five minutes (whether for texting or calls…I’ve had both types of dates.). I don’t know if you’re the kind of person who’s just looking for a free meal or coffee…I’ve met a few of those as well. Or maybe you show up to meet me and leave with another man…I’ve had that too. Just for God’s sake meet for coffee at a freakin public Starbucks if you like their profile and they ask. For me, chatting online before having coffee feels like it’s supposed to take the place of having coffee and we go right to a dinner and an activity. On top of that, then when we actually get to having coffee together it feels like we covered all the topics that I would normally talk about at a one-hour coffee date and I feel like there’s little to talk about even though I like the person. For me, my required first date is coffee. I’m done buying meals for people who spend the entire date on their phone and/or leave with another man.
Yesterday, I turned to my topical bible for some guidance. Genesis 2:18 says “Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for[e] him.”” I continually ask God why am I alone. Why do I have to be left alone?
Isaiah 41:10 says “fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God;I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” I am certainly trying to keep this in mind, but it certainly a challenge when you’re lonely for some companionship or just human company.
On another note, I was listening to an NPR podcast last night and a few dots may have been connected. My first fiancé, Amanda, kept insisting I was on the autism spectrum. She (and her controlling parents) were nut cases and I spent four years in therapy to recover from that mind mess. As part of that four years of therapy, I had myself evaluated for Autism and none could be found. A few months ago, my cuddle friend who I no longer hang out with said that it is difficult for her to read whether or not I enjoy something. I am aware that I don’t typically express outwardly (particularly) feelings of joy, even though I am enjoying something or am happy. The podcast topic was about reading each others minds/body language. It was mentioned that Autism spectrum folks go through special training on how to gauge what others are thinking and how to express their own feelings. It was said that everyone should go through that training, not just those on the autism spectrum. Just a thought and something I could look into further.
ADDENDUM: Apparently it seems one of my break downs was all for nothing. Apparently the Tinder app has some glitches that have been in existence since 2019 involving disappearing messages and matches.
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sanctuary: seven
summary: the absence of you is a void that they never thought they’d have to experience again. they were fine before they met you. but the sky would fall before the boys would be fine after you’ve gone. 8.03k words.
genre: mafia au, ANGST, poly au
pairing: ot7 x reader
warnings (READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION) : toxic and dysfunctional familial relationships, mentions of domestic abuse (physical and verbal), swearing, ptsd & trauma, poor mental health, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, eating problems, alcohol abuse, abandonment issues...
rating: NC17
author’s note: okay I lied there’s going to be another part! I just couldn’t fit all that I wanted and I figured it was better to give you guys something now instead of making you wait another century for me to wrap up the story. please let me know if I forgot anyone in the taglist! please let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy!
♡ series masterpost ♡
Just leave.
Just leave.
Just leave.
Like a cruel rhythm or a drum that keeps on beating in your chest to remind you of the pain that rips through your heart.
You’re such a fool, Y/N.
Should you blame them for growing tired of you? Even snapping at you like they did, or did you deserve it? It was so easy for you to wither back into the mindset your father had trained you to adapt at the slightest intrusion. Now, after that massacre in the kitchen with the people you trusted with your whole being, you weren’t sure if it was possible to think otherwise.
Through the warm tears that have clouded your eyes, frantically stuffing the little belongings you have into a backpack is otherworldly difficult. Your heart hurts. Your soul hurts. Your entire being hurts and you can only wonder how many times a person can be pushed aside and unwanted until they just completely break. You wonder how close you are to that point.
There’s anger running through your veins, cocktailed with devastation and confusion, but you’re not sure what it is you’re angry at. Were you angry at them? Could you ever be angry at them, even after they did something like this? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore, but that wasn’t important.
There was one objective in sight: pack up and get the hell out before you let anyone else completely destroy you.
But even then, you can’t help but to think about how they hadn’t even bothered to come after you. None of them did. And it ignites a different fire of pain that you’re finding harder to ignore. You’re halfway through shoving your shirts into the backpack when a soft voice sounds from your doorway. Jun is standing there, fiddling with her apron and warm sympathy on her face.
“Y/N, sweetie, they’re just...maybe give them some time. Please don’t go”, Jun sighs.
“No, Jun. They don’t want me here anymore”, your voice cracks at the realization. “I’m not going to stay and be unwanted. I won’t do it again. I-I can’t.”
When the last item is tucked into the pocket of your bag, you swing it onto your shoulder. The weight of the backpack feels as though it’s pulling you deeper into the ground. Like you are sinking and there is nothing you can do but wait until your head is submerged.
“Jun…” you breathe out, wiping away a warm stray tear, “could you...could you tell them that I’m sorry? I-I’m not sure what for, I guess for everything. But could you just tell them?”
Jun nods solemnly, though the reluctance is clear on her expression. Even she can recognize that you have nothing to apologize for. “I will, honey. Are you sure about this?”
“I have no choice, Jun. I love them and I-” you cut yourself off.
This is the first time you’ve been able to say it out loud. You love them. You’ve fallen in love with them and the timing could not be worse. But all in all, you consider yourself lucky. There was no way you would have recovered if you confessed and all seven of them inevitably rejected it. Perhaps this fight just saved you the great pain of knowing they cannot love you back.
“And I need to go.”
You’d have to leave before dinner. Through the back door. The one that no one thinks you know about but as always, no man gives you nearly enough credit as you deserve. You’ll tell the guards you’re going out for a walk and pray they don’t question the overstuffed backpack you’re hauling. You’ll just open it and run and…
Find a new home? A new life? Find a new set of souls that will cherish and care for you and make you feel like you’re actually meant to be in this world?
You love them. That much you know is true. And perhaps people like you weren’t meant to have love in this world.
“You’re excused, Lee. Be grateful you’re still here.” The venom in Namjoon’s voice remains clear as day, even after your ungraceful departure from the kitchen. You had left so abruptly with so few words that they weren’t able to even try and stop you.
They still can’t see straight through the searing anger that pulses through their entire being. Anger at the world, and the traitors, and the idiotic rookie that lost them thousands in shipments.
But the anger at you had faded a long time ago, the moment you bolted out of the kitchen and up the stairs. However, the boys were nothing if not stubborn. Why did you have to get in the way of their business? Why couldn’t you just remain kept away, for them to keep safe and away from the dangers of the outside world?
Jimin is the first one to make a move to the staircase, up to where you were packing, trying to be stealthy until the leader catches a glance of him.
“Jimin. Stop. Just let her cool off”, Namjoon sighs, pinching the space between his eyebrows to relieve his tension headache. He was usually the sensible one. The leader of the pack telling everyone to keep their cool. But the load on his shoulders has been getting far too heavy and you were the light breeze that caused it to collapse.
“You should wait to calm down before you talk to her, anyway. That vein in your forehead might pop out of your skin”, Hoseok snidely remarks.
Jimin scoffs, running a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time that day.
“Everything we’ve been doing has been for her best interest. Why is she making this so difficult?”, he exhales, frustration still licking at every word. But with a mere glance at Jimin, anyone in the room could tell that he truly held no antipathy towards you. That his words were coming from an unresolved pool of anger that had been bubbling away for ages.
“You don’t think she means it, do you?”, Taehyung mutters, eyebrows still creased in intensity. “The leaving part?”
“Where could she go Taehyung? We’re all she has at this point”, Yoongi speaks. A layer of irony coats the room as Yoongi remembers the words he had spat at you in the heat of the moment. A vicious declaration to tell you to leave, and he feels a string of guilt twining itself around his lungs. He numbs it away, of course. As he does everything else.
Jin takes a deep breath. “Listen, we’re all stressed and sleep-deprived. Why don’t we just calm down separately and talk it over at dinner? I’m sure by then, this whole thing will be completely forgotten.” His words sound sure and steady. Jin hopes they don’t notice the worry that bleeds into his voice.
A chorus of agreements and hums quietly sound across the room as the seven of them shuffle out of the kitchen and slowly saunter into their respective rooms. And as they tiptoe past your bedroom, where your door was shut tight, the boys can’t help but feel the rationality that has begun to trickle back in. The logic and reason that had abandoned them during the fight had slowly returned, and the thought of you on the other side of that door made them all want to barge in and hold you again.
Maybe they overreacted. Maybe they were wrong. Pride, however, was a stern mistress, and the potential consequences of their actions hadn’t yet reached their thoughts. They hadn’t realized the poison of their words.
They would wait a bit longer.
Everything would be okay after dinner.
The first thing you realize after leaving is that you chose the wrong pair of shoes to attempt an escape on foot. Of course, you had to be wearing the new ones that the boys just bought you that hadn’t been broken in yet. The heel was digging into your skin painfully, undoubtedly leaving red marks and calluses. Your feet ached with every step, but you had to soldier on. At least until you found somewhere to rest for a bit and figure out where the hell you would go.
A glance down at your phone has you eternally grateful for your past self for remembering to charge it. Hopefully it would last you until you found somewhere for the time being.
There was no more family in the country besides your immediate ones. And you’d rather swallow knives than go back to that. The thought of them makes you sad though when you remember Soyeon.
You wonder how she’s doing. The things she’s been up to. Is she shopping as much as she always does? Is she happy? Does she miss you? The train of thought makes you scoff at your own patheticism. Even after everything, you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate her. You would always love your sister.
The Bangtan manor hadn’t been as far away from the city as you had thought. On the other hand, you weren’t exactly paying attention to the time. Just let your feet carry you where they wanted to and stared blankly at the passing ground, trying to empty your thoughts as best you could. The sky was beginning to darken and the wind blew a bit colder but you refused to let it slow your pace. You couldn’t let yourself feel. Not yet, anyway.
The first motel you see is the one you enter. It’s not grand by any means; more of a fixer-upper. The wallpaper was peeling, the carpet reeked of age and dust, and the receptionist was chewing gum and scrolling absentmindedly on her phone. The place was a dump compared to what the likes of you tended to live in. But you had limited cash, and this would have to do.
It takes you three times clearing your throat for her to notice that a customer was at the front desk.
“Hello. I’d like a room with one bed, please.”
She doesn’t hide her blatant scrutinization of you, visibly looking you up and down with something akin to disapproval. Her phone is tossed on the counter annoyedly and she snaps her gum, wheeling her chair closer to the computer and clacks away on the keyboard.
“ID and payment, please”, she drones, holding out a hand without sparing you another glance. When she looks at the card you have placed in her palm, there is a spark of recognition. The Yoo family name. She must have seen your name in the paper or something. The ambassador’s daughter. In a place like this?
You are eternally grateful when the receptionist says nothing; just hands you back your card and dangles a key from her red-nail polished index finger. You two exchange no more words. The only sounds in the lobby are the clinking of the metal key, the padding of your footsteps on soft carpet, and the smacking of the bubblegum between her lips. But it is enough to begin to allow the loneliness in. The fear of it all. The uncertainty and utter devastation that you have left behind the one place that had just started to feel like home.
When the door of your motel room closes, and it is just you...
You with the clothes on your back, the necessities in your bag, and all the feelings you have kept bottled up for weeks on end. It is more than easy to collapse in a cathartic heap as soon as the lock clicks in place.
Who cares if the walls are paper-thin? You scream it out on the undoubtedly dirty floors. The agony of being so close to happiness only to have it ripped away from your hands. The pain of knowing them, only for them to push you out of their lives.
You don’t weep for anyone else. Not the seven boys you loved, not Soyeon, not your father, not Jun.
You cry for Y/N.
You cry for the realization that maybe the thing you’ve been chasing your entire life is simply not in reach. That peace was something you had to fight for, completely alone. That they don’t love you back, or even nearly as much as you loved them. If they did, you wouldn’t be here, desperately trying to hold yourself together for what seems like the billionth time. If they loved you back, well...you reckon that reality only exists in your surreal dreams.
There were distant cousins. In the states. And if you could get a hold of them, you had faith they would be willing to fly you over. You could spin an excuse at the drop of a hat. Maybe something about wanting to see America for a while and get away from your normal routine in Seoul. Something about needing space or enjoying time with missed relatives. They’d believe it. You’ll leave as soon as you can, hopefully in the morning.
Naturally, this night is sleepless and you swear the sky is darker than usual. It’s starless, and even the moon is nowhere to be seen, hidden behind overcast clouds and you want to cry even more. Because after everything, is it still too much to let you feel the light? Is it still too much to let you rest under a gentle nightscape?
You make a promise to yourself. To Y/N.
You wouldn’t let her chase after pipe dream happiness anymore. You wouldn’t let her be so naive, so hopeful for something better. You’ve had your chance at finding it, and after more bumps and bruises, have come to the conclusion that maybe it merely does not exist for you.
You promise her a lifetime of loneliness and solitude. But those are familiar things. Comfortable things. And you would take that over a broken heart any day.
As soon as they fell onto their respective beds, all seven of them had drifted off to sleep. It seemed that days of constant work, chugging black coffee, and pulling consecutive all-nighters had taken its toll, and the boys finally caught up to the pure, unadulterated exhaustion.
The seven of them slept through the night, plans of dinner completely forgotten as they glued themselves to the comfortable bedding. Unfortunately, with needed rest came a clear mind and the realization that they had been completely and utterly horrible to you ever since it all went down.
Jungkook is the first to wake up. He brushes his teeth and slips on an outfit with a rapid fervor, ready to put everything behind him and just...hold you. Because he realizes it’s been weeks since he actually has, and maybe that’s just the thing he’s been needing. To feel your frame in his arms and hear your soft breathing.
“Taehyung! Get up!” Jungkook pounds on the door of his hyung’s room. He hears shuffling from the other side, and a rustled bedhead emerges from a dark cavern.
“What Jungkook? It’s too early for this”, he grumbles, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
“Hyung we all slept like the dead through dinner. I’d rather not let this whole thing with Y/N marinate for any longer. Get up and let’s talk it through, I know you miss her like crazy too.” Jungkook does his best to keep his voice down since you were still sleeping in the room beside Taehyung’s. He has to round up all of them first before asking you to come out.
So he does. Sweeps his floor and the one above to awaken the other six men. Jin and Namjoon were the only others who were dressed and ready to tackle the day. The rest of them moved like zombies to rid themselves of the sleepy fatigue.
Somehow, they all manage to congregate in front of your door, nervously staring it down while the tension in the air choked them. It’s unnerving. The radio silence coming from your room. You must be really upset, and reasonably so. Hoseok clears his throat, twisting his hands together out of nerves, and glances at the others.
“Well? Should I knock?”, he whispers. The other six nod solemnly, glaring at the door like it might combust at any moment.
He steps forward gingerly and raps on your bedroom door thrice. The seconds trickle by like molasses, even slower when there is no sound from your end.
He knocks again.
Nothing.
A third time.
Complete and utter silence.
“Y/N?”
Hoseok’s eyebrows deeply furrow, and with trepidation, he twists the doorknob and swings it open. The bedsheets are made, duvet untouched and pillows stacked neatly against the headboard. The curtains are drawn and everything looks fairly clean. Almost as if there was no one in there in the first place. Now that he looks closer, the only sign of you being there was the vase of brown and wilting peonies on the bedside table. The ones they had gotten for you months ago. Even your scarce amount of belongings were nowhere to be found.
In the ache of the silence, nothing can be heard but their utter shock. Their minds jumping to the worst conclusion but still in denial because there’s no way that you would do that. No way they could have lost you when they all loved you so much.
“M-maybe she’s in the basement. Or the library. I’m sure she didn’t….she hasn’t….”, Jimin cuts himself off as he drifts off into all the terrible possibilities. Namjoon yells at the guards downstairs from the second floor, and the sounds of their rushed footsteps to find you in this giant house is the only noise that reaches their ears.
“Jun!” Taehyung hollers down below, where she is undoubtedly fussing away in the kitchen or slaving over a boiling pot. The woman calmly emerges upstairs with a sharp gaze, head held high and shoulders stiff in her posture. There is no emotion on her face, except the faint disappointment as she stands in front of the seven men.
“Where is she?”, Yoongi growls, stepping forward like a huffing beast, but Jun remains unbothered.
“Where is who?” Jun monotones.
“Don’t play dumb, Jun. Where is Y/N?” She scoffs at the concern dripping in Yoongi’s voice. How ironic that the very person who maliciously told you to leave was now in pieces at your absence.
“I was surprised you even noticed. It’s not something you’ve been doing as of late. Noticing”, Jun calmly retorts. She’s never been one to be afraid of them. Never scared to stand up to them, because though they were grown men, they often still needed some mothering.
“What the fuck does that even mean?” Jungkook spits, frustratedly gripping at his hair.
“Is it not true, boys? Y/N’s been practically invisible to you these past few weeks. Who knew it would take a mere fight to finally get you guys to pay attention to her.” Jin’s reflex is to immediately respond with an argument. But the words die on his tongue when he realizes the truth in Jun’s statement.
The seven of them stare at her in silence, still high-strung on stress and anger, but intent to listen to her words.
“She left.”
The two words that they had been so desperate not to hear sound like a death knell when they fall from Jun’s lips. Their blood runs cold, and the temperature in the house drops to subzero. A moment frozen in time and all they can do is be forced to come to terms with their actions . The room immediately explodes into desperate questions and exclamations to their head housekeeper.
“Where is she? Did she say where she’s going”, Hoseok tearily yells.
“Did she leave a note?” Jungkook chews on his lower lip until it bleeds.
“When did she leave? She couldn’t have gotten far.” Jimin grabs Jun by the shoulders, forcing her closer as if he could look in her eyes and pretend she was lying.
“Excuse me if I am speaking out of turn, Sir”, Jun clears her throat, “but what did you think was going to happen?”
The seven of them are stunned into silence, swimming in utter confusion and worry about where in the world you could be. If you were in danger at all.
“She’s been left by herself for weeks. In this big, cold house while you all were wrapped up in your business. Tried talking to you so many times, but you all pushed her away.” Jun sighs disappointedly.
Her words ring with truth, and perhaps that is the most painful part about it all. The boys can’t do anything but stand there and listen. You were dear to Jun, and she wouldn’t let the fear of standing up to her intimidating bosses keep her from saying the things you didn’t have the courage to.
“Y/N, she...she’s been struggling. Did she tell you that? Wouldn’t sleep for days, so I sometimes snuck melatonin into her afternoon tea. But still, she’d come out of that bedroom with dark circles that almost looked painful. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her toss and turn all night, Taehyung.” Jun spares him a glance. Not malicious or accusing. Just genuine curiosity and it makes Taehyung want to burrow himself into the ground.
Namjoon’s heart drops as Jun continues speaking. How could they have been so oblivious to everything? So out of touch and wrapped up in other priorities that they seemed to completely forget about you? Arguably the most important person in their life.
“Sometimes, she even refused to eat. Couldn’t even stomach a cup of soup, and she’s gotten so thin, I had to tailor all her clothes.”
Jin’s eyes widen at the statement, his throat in knots and the sinking feeling in his gut only magnifying. Like ice water to warm skin. That’s how Jun’s words felt to their system. Like they had been so blind this entire time, so distracted by everything else that they forgot someone who had become one of the most important people to them.
“Forgive me for speaking my truth, sir. But I’ve never quite felt such disappointment when I heard the things you said to Y/N yesterday. A-And I don’t condone her decision to leave. But can you blame her?” Jun sighs, exasperated as her worry for you seeps into her consciousness.
Jimin pushes away the tears that have clouded his eyes, looking down at the marble floors so that no one sees the gloss that wasn’t there before Jun started speaking. He pretends not to notice the way Jungkook’s tremulous and shaky breathing, or the way Yoongi’s fisted hands have turned completely white from the tension. All he can think about...all they can think about...is you.
Hoseok coughs, clearing his throat and steeling his voice to not show emotion. “Did she tell you where she was going?”
Jun shakes her head solemnly, twisting her apron in her hands. The boys begin to make their way downstairs, tension in the air thicker than ever and only one priority clear in their minds.
“However…”, Jun’s small voice stops them in their concentrated footsteps. “While she was packing, she told me to say one thing to you all.”
It’s expectant. They almost don’t want to hear it at all. Hearing it would affirm that they are completely undeserving of you. That you are an angel among beasts whose love language is to destroy and wreck. That maybe leaving them would be the best thing to happen to you.
“She told me to tell you she’s sorry. For everything.”
Everything is what you deserved. Everything is what they would do to prove that to you.
Korea from the view of your aunt’s private jet was a bittersweet revelation. It was beautiful. So achingly and hauntingly beautiful with the ghosts of your past and the shattered promises for the future. If you squint, you could still make out remnants of the Han River. Traces of a place that seemed to cry for you as you left for the states.
You didn’t want to be truthful to yourself. You didn’t want to admit that you wouldn’t miss Korea because of the people or the landscape or the weather. You’d miss it because they were there. That home had been so close you could nearly taste it.
The trip was a chaotic blur. You faded in and out of sleep, in a hypnotic trance that proved to be your body’s self-defense mechanism to repress every emotion you had felt since you left. Stewardesses offering you flutes of champagne, drivers loading and unloading your luggage, the words of everyone around you flowing in and out like a stream of water that you ignored.
“I trust everything is to your satisfaction, Y/N? Really, you must come visit more often. Your uncle and I have missed you terribly.”
Your aunt had always been a kind woman. She was from your mother’s side, and like everyone else, so oblivious to the true nature of the Yoo family. How sinister things truly were behind those closed, gold-plated doors. Their house was grand, large enough so that you could make yourself scarce and wouldn’t be a disturbance. Though you couldn’t help but to notice the lack of boyish voices drifting down the hall, or the rhythm of Taehyung’s hands on the keyboard in the room next to you.
You offer a kind smile to the butler, who gently sets your singular backpack on the plush bed that screamed out your name.
“Thank you so much for everything, Aunt Kim. I promise I’ll transfer over the money for the plane fees and carry my weight around here for the time being.”
Your words make you nearly wince with the uncertainty of your wobbly plans. Where would you even get the money? Ask your father? Ask them?
“I....I promise to be out of your hair as quickly as I can”, you shakily breathe, failing to convince yourself. Yet your aunt only holds a kind smile and a warm gaze.
“Stay as long as you want, dear. It’s the least we could do to repay everything your family has done for us over the years. Especially your father.”
You know you cannot blame her oblivion. Not when it is such a well-guarded secret. Yet her words douse kerosene to the fire in your chest. Tugs at the stitches of the subconscious wounds you have yet to heal. It makes you remember them. Your boys. How they would burn at hearing such words, grit their teeths and spit poison at anyone who held your father’s name in a high regard.
Or would they? After everything, you’re not so sure anymore. Painful or not, it makes you miss them even more.
So you smile. Bite your tongue, hold your fists at your side, and thank her again for the kindness she has shown you when you had nowhere else to run. America felt different. The air itself seemed like a culture shock. Being the ambassador’s daughter had prepared you for fluency in English and how to carry yourself diplomatically, but the journey ahead was bound to be rough.
For the first time in your life, you would be the only one you had to care for. Not Soyeon, not your mother, not Bangtan. You’d have to do this by yourself, now, and though all the emotions you have locked away will inevitably return to confront you, this sanctuary for now would have to be enough.
You were surprisingly more difficult to find than the boys had expected. Traveling alone with no clunky belongings meant you were able to move more quickly than they had anticipated and the motel you stayed at was paid for in all cash. However, nothing in the city could really happen under Bangtan’s watch, and here you were. Video footage displayed on the screen of their basement office, and they can only feel heartache as they watch you through the screen.
“She checked out in the morning. Got picked up by a gray SUV and taken to the airport.” Taehyung drones, eyes still glued to the screen. Like looking at your pixelated face would bring you closer to him somehow. He missed you. They all did.
“The plane’s not registered with any public company, so I’m guessing it’s a private one belonging to her family.” Taehyung adds on, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on the table. The air was tense with frustration. Anger at themselves and at each other for letting his happen. For making you run away.
“Any idea where it’s going?” Yoongi quietly murmurs from the end of the long table.
“America.”
America. You felt so discouraged and hurt by them that you had to go all the way to America. They did this. This is their fault.
“So? What are we waiting for? Tell the guards to prep the jet to America. We’ll bring her back”, Jimin gawks at Namjoon, who nurses a glass of scotch like it’s his lifeline. The room falls silent awaiting their leader’s course of action, but the six of them are left speechless when Namjoon himself starts laughing. The kind of laugh that sends chills down their spines. So raucous yet emotionless. So full of hidden pain. Namjoon tips the rest of the glass down his throat, looking at them all with a hopeless expression.
“What makes you think she wants to see us? After what we put her through? Hell, I’d be surprised if she lets us within a 10 foot radius.” Namjoon’s words are cruel, but they can’t help but to believe it to be true.
“N-No. She’ll understand that we were stressed. I-If we just explain everything, I’m sure she’ll-”
“Don’t you remember what happened in the kitchen? What Jun said? She’s been withering away for weeks, Jimin, and none of us gave enough of a fuck to notice. We made her feel invisible.” Namjoon chuckles, but there is only pain in his tone. One that he drowns out with another swig of top-shelf whiskey.
“We can fix it. We can go to America and fix it”, Hoseok stares down the leader, insistent on making efforts.
“No we can’t Hoseok”, Jin’s brows furrow, eyes lighting with fire, “Jun said she didn’t sleep. She didn’t eat. I wouldn’t take us back either.”
The boys know better than to take it personally. They were all heartbroken in the wake of your leaving, so desperate to get to you yet ashamed of themselves, apprehensive of if they even have the right to chase after you.
Jungkook leaps up from his seat, chest huffing and hands raking violently through his hair. He paces back and forth, eyes swimming in hurt and frustration until it all seemed to combust through his body, flinging his office chair to the side to find any form of catharsis.
He spares a poisoned glance over to Yoongi’s direction, who still sits with his eyes glued to the floor, as if ashamed of his mere existence.
“You.” The malice in Jungkook’s voice is crystal clear.Yoongi’s shirt collar is acquaintanced with Jungkook’s fisted hand, and he grips onto the older man like a viper to its prey. As if blunt force could make you come back. The other five boys could only watch.
“You did this. You told her to leave. Now she’s gone. I loved her, Yoongi.” Though Jungkook’s words are pumped with antipathy, the sheer devastation is heard most through it all. Yoongi doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t even make a move to push the younger off or shield himself from oncoming hits. Just sits passively with a monotone expression, staring into Jungkook’s eyes with a blank gaze.
“You’re not faultless. You yelled at her too.”
No, none of them are faultless. And perhaps Yoongi’s words were the nails in the coffin, but they all had part in pushing you to that brink. Jungkook’s eyes gloss over with defeat, and the grip he had on Yoongi’s shirt loosens. He steps away, unable to meet any of the gazes of his older brothers or the footage of your distressed face on the flat screen monitor. Leave. That’s all he’s known to do.
“Jungkook?” Yoongi holds no anger in his voice. It stops Jungkook in his tracks as he waits for his hyung to finish.
“I loved her too. We all do.”
They can only pray they’ll get to tell you.
The diner two blocks away from your aunt’s apartment complex is the last place anyone would expect Ambassador Yoo’s eldest daughter to be, much less employed at. You had spent the last two weeks scouring the area for a place that would take a girl with no prior work experience, a pending student visa, and no contacts or references. But here you were, working a minimum wage job and saving every penny to make something of yourself in this entirely new country.
It hasn’t been easy. Trying not to think about the seven boys that you left back home. The seven boys that you love so desperately and hopelessly, and foolishly thought they felt the same. It’s in the wee hours of the night that you toss and turn, closing your eyes and imagine yourself back at their manor. You will your brain to manifest the clacking sounds of Taehyung’s keyboard from across the wall or the footsteps of Yoongi’s bulky shoes when he walks past your door every night.
You miss them compulsively so. And perhaps they do not deserve your thoughts or heartache, but it belongs to them. Even after everything, you still belong to them. But you won’t give yourself the luxury of thinking you mean more than someone who they took pity on.
The days are the same. You get up early in the morning, put on a pot of coffee by yourself much to the disapproval of the housekeeper. Though it’s baby steps, you feel more independent this way. The coffee is terrible, of course, but it’s the thought that counts.
You leave before your aunt even leaves her bedroom, dedicated to your full-time job and earning money whenever you can. The pay is almost humorous, and a week’s worth of your labor probably equates to what Soyeon spends in a day. But it is your work. Your money. And though everyday starts and ends with heartache and longing for a life you once had in your grasp, it feels refreshing to learn to only need yourself.
“Y/N”, your manager sighs as you stumble through the door with frazzled hair and painfully dark under eyes. “You’re late.”
“I know, I know, I’m so sorry. Traffic was insane this morning. It won’t happen again.” Your hair is expertly swept back into a haphazard bun, fiddling with the apron around your waist before jumping to the orders that have begun to get cold on the counter.
The work was simple. Slow. But it was honest and enough for you. The diner was calm; a refreshing environment from the one you had in Korea.
“Here you are, sir. Black coffee and a side of toast”, you muttered in a sugary sweet voice, fake smile stretched on your face to hide the perpetual pain in your chest that has not went away since you left the Bangtan house. It’s easier these days to just not think about it. To completely repress the trauma of your father and the boys and the failed therapy. The smile drops as soon as you turn around to walk back to the counter.
“Rough morning?” Lina’s voice is gravelly, rough from the coffee and 15-minute smoke breaks she takes every lunch.
“Something like that.” You collapse onto the cashier counter, holding your head in your hands to will away the pounding ache of your temples.
“First it was me completely sleeping through the morning alarm. Then it was the bus detouring and making five extra stops they usually don’t”, you huff.
“Y/N?”
“And don’t get me started on the fact that I decided to drop my phone in a puddle when I was running here.”
“Y/N.” Lina’s voice cuts through your venting monologue. She stares past you, as if there was something behind you captivating her attention.
“I think someone is staring at us from across the street.” Your brows furror at her words, whipping around to the window. When you see him. The air in the diner thins until it completely disappears, and the breath is stolen from your lungs.
Your paled face and shaking hands is what he sees from where he’s standing, clad in a black hoodie that covered his head, but you could recognize him in your sleep.You are both frozen in time and chaos, staring at each other like you both did not belong. Eyes glued to the other like you are both too good to be true.
Are you imagining it? Through the tears that reflexively pooled in your eyes and the way your body quivers, are you finally going insane and imagining a person who has been plaguing your mind for weeks?
Your feet carry you into action when your mind is still stuck in shellshock, bursting out of the diner doors with desperation on your tongue, hands reaching out as if it would span across the streetlight and bring him closer.
“Jin?” You are not quiet. You scream his name across what feels like a chasm, but is only just a couple meters away. Your legs usher you into the open street, and cars veer and honk to avoid your form, frozen on the crosswalk.
It takes you one second to blink and him one second to disappear into the crowd. Like he was never there at all and your mind was playing cruel, evil tricks on your already crumbling soul. A ruse that Lina was in on, just to torture your decimated spirit.
Could you allow yourself the luxury to think that he had come to see you? You didn’t know if you even wanted him to, didn’t know if you had it in you to forgive and forget.
“Jin.”
It comes out as a shaky whisper under your breath. A broken voice that longs for something she cannot have. Something that was so far in space and time it now felt like a figment of your imagination. You allow a tear to fall, your heart to crack a bit more, and return to the diner.
“Where have you been running off to these days?” The words are snide. Coated in feigned concern and curiosity and meant to be a jab at Jin’s recent absence in Bangtan activities. They are easy to fall from Yoongi’s lips as he steals another swig of the McKellan whiskey he’s been saving up for a special occasion or a rainy day. What more fitting than to mourn the space in his heart where you used to be.
Jin stays silent, only giving the intoxicated Yoongi a heavy eye roll and trudging past him. To say that the seven men were in terrible shape after your departure is a gross understatement. But Yoongi’s onset alcoholism seemed mild compared to how the rest of the boys were faring.
Both Taehyung and Jungkook haven’t left their rooms since finding out you were in America, only the sounds of their computer keys, heavy footsteps, and the empty food plates left at their doors to signal that they were alive in there. Namjoon had thrown himself into work, picking up the slack of all the other boys and sometimes emerging from his office at the early hours of dawn looking like he hasn’t slept in a week. His gaunty face and the way his once fitted shirt now falls loosely on his shoulders tells Jin he hasn’t eaten much either.
Hoseok could more often than not be found in the training room, breaking and bruising himself to numb him from the pain of losing you. He takes it out on the poor gang recruits that were unlucky enough to be chosen to spar with him.
And Jin? Well, Jin spent his days away from the house. Away from the business and the drugs and the people. He never tells anyone where he’s going or when he’s coming back and they are all too drained to try to ask. The boys live together but not truly. Just exist and breathe in the same space and too resentful of themselves and the others to fix the fragments you left behind. They miss you. Long for you and burn for you like they never have for anyone else.
See, it’s one thing to not know where you are and be forced to be away from you on the basis of ignorance. But to know your exact location, have the time and resources to easily get to you, yet can’t come to you because they’ve hurt you immeasurably is a different kind of torture. A different kind of ache that haunts their souls at every waking moment. You are so close and so far away, and they only have themselves to blame for the distance.
“Jun, can you make a meal for Namjoon? I’ll take it up to him.” Jin sighs to the housekeeper, shedding off his coat on the kitchen stool.
Jun nods knowingly, fully aware of the effects your absence has had on the masters of the house. And she is not blind to Jin’s indifference or the way he is doing worlds better than the others.
“He’ll probably try to yell at me and make you go away first. But he’ll be thankful eventually.” Jin nurses a cup of tea to warm him after his journey. Ones that he takes every week and for days at a time.
Jun nods again, assembling a tray of food that Namjoon will undoubtedly leave to get cold either at his door or the end of his desk. Before he leaves, however, Jun spares the man a knowing glance and a sad smile.
“You may want to return the private jet more promptly next time, sir. The others have gotten...wary.”
Jin’s eyes widen at her words, frozen for a millisecond in his footsteps as realization strikes in that he hadn’t been as inconspicuous as he thought. He says nothing as he departs from the kitchen. Only stares at the marble floor and wonders what would be the next time he’d get to see you. Even if from a street’s distance.
It takes four syncopated knocks before semblance of a noise emerges from behind Namjoon’s closed door. It comes in the form of an angered grunt, but Jin is no stranger to his leader’s brunt. He opens the door with no further permission.
Namjoon is in worse shape than he had expected. His hair is another level of unruly, greasy and matted and looking like the man ran his hands through it a billion times. The paperwork strewn across his desk and floor reflects the mess in Namjoon’s own head. Like he is suffocating himself in his work but still finds breath in his lungs. Still finds you in his thoughts.
“You need to eat”, Jin states demandingly. Namjoon only hums in response, keeping his eyes glued to the work in front of him. Jin pushes the tray into his line of vision.
“Eat, Joon. You can’t work if you starve. Y/N would want you to eat.”
Your name makes his pen stop writing. Makes his eyes widen like he hasn’t heard it said aloud in ages. It’s pathetic to Namjoon, really. How much one person has affected him.
“How would you know what Y/N wants, Jin? How would any of us?” He sneers, resuming the scribbling on his paper. Jin sighs dejectedly, opting to leave the food on his table and not be bothered with trying to help someone who so clearly didn’t want to be helped. He turns around to leave. Until Namjoon opens his mouth again.
“Unless….”, he teeters, “you do know what she wants.” He tosses the pen and papers aside, crossing his arms and sitting back in the desk chair.
“Unless you’ve been going behind our backs to see her.”
Had he been turned around facing Namjoon, the younger would have seen the clear exposed truth on his face. The blatant and unhidden look of guilt and shame that he quickly masks once he whips to face Namjoon.
“What are you talking about?”
The responding statement is quick. Too quick. Too accosting. Namjoon squints his eyes.
“Only the several days these past weeks you’ve disappeared from Bangtan’s radar. The bills for the jet fuel sent to my directory. The pilots you’ve been pulling away from our forces in Korea to personally tend to whatever shady business you’ve been hiding under my nose.”
Namjoon’s words are rapid fire, piercing into the facade that Jin thought he had so carefully crafted. He should’ve known nothing goes unnoticed under the leader’s eye.
“Namjoon, I-”
“Just be glad I didn’t tell the others. Especially Jungkook.” The thought of the youngest makes him sigh. Jungkook has always been so volatile. A ticking, emotionally-charged and codependent time bomb hiding under that muscle and masculinity. Namjoon knew better than to expose something like this just yet.
When he looks up at the man standing in the doorway of his office, he’s looking straight past him. Through the window like it was you he saw in the sky. Observing him now, up close and with more attention, Namjoon finally gets to truly see him.
On the surface, Jin is faring worlds better than any of them. He’s clean and freshly showered, hair coiffed to perfection like it usually is. He dons a black button up; perfectly ironed without a crease in sight. But Namjoon knows him better than that. Jin looks so utterly drained it stirs sympathy in even the darkest of hearts. His eyes communicate something his words can’t: Seokjin is completely lost without your light.
“I’m sorry.” The words come out breathily. Like he’s been waiting to say it all this time but couldn’t.
“I just…”, he stares down at his hands, “I just needed to see her. See if she was doing alright after we…” Jin trails off, not able to face the truth of their actions just yet. And though there is lingering anger in Namjoon, he can’t help but to feel his distress vicariously.
“You know, she’s a waitress now. At this small, run-down diner downtown. With a cute little apron and everything”, he chuckles softly, sadness seeping in every word.
“She lives with her aunt and uncle, and walks everywhere because she doesn’t have a car, at unholy hours of the night which keeps me up every night constantly worrying about her. But that’s Y/N, isn’t it? So careless of her own safety and well-being.”
Namjoon refrains the smile that creeps on his face at the thought of you.
“She was smiling when I saw her. I could still see she was sad but she was smiling. Like she always does just so other people feel happier around her.”
“Jin, you don’t have to-”
“And she’s lost so much weight, Namjoon. She was trying to yell out for help and all we did was ignore her.”
Jin’s words are nails on a chalkboard. Vinegar in wine. It makes them both nauseous and rueful, and the oxygen in Namjoon’s office suddenly becomes all too suffocating. Your presence, or lack thereof, has left a heavy residue on the walls of the manor.
The two boys sit in silence for a moment, before the sound of thumping boots on hardwood flooring echoes down the hallway, getting louder as it approaches the office. The door is nearly taken off its hinges as it violently swings open. Taehyung stands in the threshold, sweat on his brow and chest huffing up and down like an overexerted engine. He is pale in the face, hands trembling at his side and the sheer shock in his gaze tells the two older men that the words preparing to slip from his tongue are not going to be pleasant. Jin and Namjoon brace themselves for impact.
“It’s Y/N”, his whispered voice quivers. Their hearts drop.
“There’s been an accident.”
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Fixer Upper PART THREE (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)
Summary: Now you’re faced with an option after Frankie left a tool at your house. How do you make your feelings for Frankie known?
W/C: 2k
Warnings: language, Benny is a menace, fluff :)
A/N: THE THRILLING CONCLUSION! Thank you all for tagging along!
You hardly slept last night. Your mind was filled with the handsome repairman, his smile and his laughter and the fact that he left a vital piece of his equipment in your house. It had to be a sign, right?
Whether or not it was a purposeful move is the question that tormented you until the early hours of the morning. He was a great man, most definitely, but did he mean his jokes and assistance in a way beyond the professionalism he had to have? You couldn’t figure out, and it left you tossing and turning like you had when the air conditioner was broken.
In the morning, you still aren’t quite sure what to make of it. You’d thought that sleeping on it might bring some sense of clarity, but it really hasn’t. Enjoying the cold air of your newly fixed air conditioner, you stare at the wall as you sip your morning coffee. Is there even a solid answer? You’re not entirely sure.
Well, whether or not you’re going to make a move, you suppose he’s going to need that wrench. Lifting your phone, you dial the shop’s number, which is now saved into your speed dial list.
“Standard Oil and Heating,” a man’s voice sounds from the phone, “this is Benny.”
“Hi,” you say with a somewhat cheerful voice. “Uh, is Catfish in today?” You ask the man.
“Gimme one second,” the man murmurs. You can hear paper flipping, as he looks through something on the desk. “Uh, can I ask why you’re calling?” He clarifies.
“Oh, of course. He fixed my oven yesterday and he left one of his tools behind.”
The man- Benny- chuckles. “Oh, you’re the one with the fucked-up house! We’ve heard about you.”
That makes you laugh, but more importantly, makes your stomach flutter nervously. Frankie’s mentioned you to his coworkers. Whether it was in passing or in depth, you don’t know, but he’s mentioned you. Talked about you. “Yeah, that would be me,” you shrug and sip your coffee.
There’s another shuffling of paper and the man makes a small noise of discontent. “Well, it looks like he won’t be in today for whatever reason, but he’ll be here tomorrow. If you wanna bring it in, I can give it to him.”
You pause, then shake your head. Even though he can’t see it, you’re sure he can figure it out. “That’s alright. I’ll just bring it in tomorrow then.”
Benny chuckles a little. “I think he’ll like that. Do you want me to let him know?”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll just pop in when I have the time,” you say casually, as if you’re not about to rearrange your entire day around to do so. The note from Benny- I think he’ll like that- makes your smile widen.
“No problem. We’ll see ya then,” he tells you and nods before hanging up.
Well, now you have about twenty four hours before you have to return that wrench. The decision before you still hangs heavy in the air. There’s a good chance he likes you, especially if the man who answered the shop phone was right. His words were subtle but hinting, and the idea was that Frankie has talked about you.
But what if he hasn’t? What if he just mentioned that you have a chronically disastrous house and that was the end of the story? God, there are so many questions, and it makes you annoyed to no end. You groan aloud, grateful to live alone, and drop your head to the cool wood of your kitchen table.
Love is too complicated. Can you even categorize it as love right now? Maybe it’s more of an affection situation. There are too many labels for things, too many variables and ifs and whens. Too many reasons things can go right or can go very very wrong.
Worst of all, if Frankie doesn’t feel the same, you lose a damn good repairman. Well, he’s a good guy. You’re sure he’d still help, but that banter and laughter would certainly be gone. The relationship you have now would be thrown out the window, which you may one day need him to fix.
You have a job, and you do your work as the day progresses, but Frankie’s face takes up permanent residence in the back of your mind, unable to let you focus well. Even as you snag a spare monster cookie during your lunch break, you think of him and how warmly he helped you after you burned yourself.
Your decision wavers back and forth. You have periods of definitiveness, moments where you’re certain you’re going to make a move and moments where you decide you’re going to do nothing at all. It’s agonizing, your inability to make a decision.
Finally, you reach the best conclusion you think you can have. When you drop off the wrench tomorrow, you’ll just read the room. You’ll carefully observe his body language, the way he speaks, and try to take the clues you can find in person. Yeah, that should work. It’s probably the best option too.
Settling in bed, you take a while to fall asleep, pondering possibilities. Eventually, you fall asleep and even your dreams are filled with confusion and twists, a theme of uncertainty filling your unconscious mind.
Then the morning comes. You get dressed into something you’d normally wear to go out running errands. You don’t want anything too cute, anything too casual or sloppy. Even then, you change t-shirts three times until you remind yourself it’s nothing of consequence.
You drink your to-go coffee as you drive to the shop, which you’ve surprisingly never been to in person. For as much as you use their services, you’ve never seen the building. Walking inside, you peek around and find no one. Taking a deep breath and making yourself relax, you ring the buzzer on the desk that sounds in the back.
A man comes to the front, wearing working clothes and a tool belt. His outfit is similar to Frankie’s, but he’s omitted the ball cap. “Hi,” he comments, slightly confused.
“Hey, I’m here for Catfish?” You ask, looking through the window behind the desk that shows the back of the shop. You hold up the wrench, hoping that gives a little indication.
“Oh! You’re her!” The man nods, blue eyes brightening and blonde scruff moving with his smile. “I’m Benny, the one you talked to yesterday.”
He offers his hand and you shake it, smiling and introducing yourself. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too! Fish loves when he gets sent to your place,” he chuckles. “Are you here… just to drop off the wrench?” He asks, implying the very thing that you spent the whole night pondering.
“Hopefully not,” you shrug nervously, an awkward smile on your face.
Benny nods and shoots you a knowing smile. “Fish really likes you. I’ll just spoil that one for you,” he laughs. “The guy’s like a brother. I can read him damn well. Okay, enough of that. I’ll send him out here, or do you wanna come on back?”
“I’ll come back with you?” You say, half-questioning and half-stating. The man waves you along and you follow him into the back.
“Fish,” Benny calls, and Frankie’s head pops up from a tool bench. He’s facing away from the two of you.
“What do you want?” He grumbles, not turning. He’s too focused on whatever he’s tinkering with, using pliers and wire and tape.
“God, you’re an asshole, Frank. Sure you don’t wanna leave?” He asks you jokingly.
At the question being directed elsewhere, Frankie turns and his eyes widen as he spots you. “Hey, what are you doing here?” He asks. Benny respectfully backs out of the room without saying anything, allowing the two of you to have your conversation.
“You left your wrench,” you chuckle and awkwardly hold it up.
“Oh, that’s where I left it,” Frankie says, though you learn that he’s a terrible liar through the tone of his voice. “Thanks for bringing that back.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you assure him and smile.
There’s a beat of silence before the both of you try to speak. Neither of you manage to get anything out before you realize the other is speaking. Then you stumble over your words, each of you assuring the other that they go. Then there’s more of that, letting the other speak, and silence, then he breaks it.
“I, uh, left that on purpose,” he admits, face reddening beneath the brim of his blue ball cap.
“Well, I wanted to bring it back specifically to say that I really like you,” you admit and fold your arms awkwardly.
His face practically lights up, looking up at you with a mixture of love and shock and excitement. “Really?”
“Really,” you nod and place the wrench down on the work table in front of him. “What time do you work until tonight? Would you like to come back to my cursed house and I’ll make dinner?” You offer, leaning against his table.
Frankie grins. “I’d love that, yeah. I’ll bring my tool belt just in case,” he chuckles, which makes you genuinely laugh and in turn widens his smile. “You don’t have to make anything though.”
“I will though,” you shrug, your body loosening now that the tension is gone. He feels the same. “Now that my oven is working, we’re all good.”
He chuckles and looks down at the wiring piece he was working on before looking back at you like he’d look at a gorgeous work of art. “I work until 5. Sometime after that?” He offers.
“Seven it is. Do you have any food restrictions?”
He shakes his head. “I eat anything and everything in massive amounts,” he chuckles. “I’m sure anything you make would be great.”
“Well, I’ll text you what I’m making if I can have your phone number,” you offer, a little confidence boosting from the fact that he clearly reciprocates your feelings.
“Yeah,” he grins and takes your phone when you hand it to him, entering his contact. Fix-it Frankie: cell, 589-283-1975.
“Fix-it Frankie?” You laugh and beam at him. “God, you’re a dope.”
He shrugs and blushes but he’s still clearly happy, more than willing to take your teasing. “Alright, I gotta keep working on this, but I’ll walk you out,” he offers and stands.
The two of you walk to the front and Frankie opens the door for you. You walk outside and he follows. “Well, see you tonight,” you grin at him.
“See you then,” he nods.
The two of you go for the hug, but awkwardly dodge to each side, trying to figure out the proper angle. When the gap between your bodies finally closes, you realize neither of you considered your faces. They’re awkwardly smushed together, lips on lips. You’re kissing.
“Oh no,” you laugh and back up, cupping Frankie’s face and softly scratching at the stubble.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Frankie mutters, embarrassed but laughing as he looks into your eyes.
Your face is still close to his, your bodies in a hugging position. “Well, we better do that right,” you giggle.
Frankie nods, his cheeks hurting from how much you’ve made him smile. It falls as his face closes the distance to yours, kissing you gently and sighing into your lips.
The moment is short, soft and sweet. You’re in public and fully conscious of it, and you don’t want to seem weird. When you break away, you kiss his cheek, admiring the scratch of his beard against your lips. “See you tonight, Fix-it Frankie,” you tease and walk off to your car.
“See you!” He calls and raises one large hand in a wave. He’s still flustered as you drive off and wiggle your fingers at him in a similar wave. His eyes follow your car until it’s out of sight.
Frankie walks back inside and rolls his eyes at the sight of his blonde best friend staring at him. “Don’t you even-“
“Hell yeah!” Benny whoops and holds up the wrench as if it were a victory prize.
“Shut the fuck up,” he frowns and snatches it from his hand, tucking it back in his tool belt.
As annoyed as he is by Benny, he can’t be mad. He has a date tonight with a woman he already knows can cook and hold her own in such a shitty house- well, aside from repairs. Thank God for faulty air conditioning.
-
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A Broken Heart.
Lee Bodecker x fem!reader
Chapter 2
Chapter warnings: 18+ mentions of death, mentions of sex, cursing, Lee being an ass, angst, meninist behaviors
Chapter summary: You move back home after three years to find your heart still in shambles.
Masterlist
Series Masterlist
Chapter 1 // Chapter 3
3 Years Later
After moving a whole county away, Highland Ohio to be exact, you stayed for quite some time. Your aunt was amazing and the sweetest woman you’d ever known, and living with her was a breeze. She’d even gotten you a job at the auto shop her recently deceased husband left to her, which you loved. Life was good, for a while. You never had a reason to come home until your momma got sick.
For the past year you watched as your momma slowly faded away until the last week of April when she finally passed in her sleep. You were devastated, of course, but not only because of her death. She didn’t have much to her name besides a couple thousand in the bank and the house you’d left so long ago, which she left all to you.
The house was old. White paneling a faint tint of brown, grey shutters that were almost all off their hinges and rust anywhere you looked. It was a fixer upper and there’s no way you could sell it in its current condition. So, you decided to move back to Knockemstiff, just for the time being.
In all honesty, you’d grown to hate that town. Nothing but bad memories and any good memories you’d had were tarnished completely. So, once the house was decent enough to sell, you were out of there and back to the life you’d created in Highland.
Your aunt and you drove together in her pick up truck back to the house after your momma passed. She helped you unload your stuff and take things to the necessary rooms.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? I can make my famous pancakes. I know you love’em.” She grinned.
“As tempting as that sounds, I’m fine. Please, I insist you go now before it gets dark.” You pull your aunt into a hug, a tight hug.
“I’m gonna miss havin’ you around, kiddo.” She sighed, her breath fanning over your neck.
“It’s only for a few months. I’ll be back to annoying you in no time, oldie.”
“Hey, I’m not old.” She laughed and pointed her finger at you sternly but still in a lighthearted way.
“And I’m not a kid.”
She laughed a little more then sighed, “Well, I guess I’ll head out. Call me if you need anything and don’t forget to go down to Billy’s tomorrow. He’s excited to bring you in.”
You smiled, “How could I forget? I need some sort of income to fix this craphole up.”
You walked your aunt to her car and waved her goodbye as she drove way. Your eyes welled up but you made sure not to cry in front of her or she’d never leave.
Once you went back in, you immediately got to work. Starting in the kitchen, you didn’t have much but a few coffee cups. The house was still occupied with your momma’s things and you were already dreading having to go through it all.
Things started to come together room by room as you worked most of the day away. You cleaned and rearranged things to your liking now that it was your house. It felt almost empowering to do what you want. You’d never lived alone so, in a way, this was an adventure as well.
You took your old room instead of the master, since that’s where your momma passed. It gave you goosebumps just thinking about and you knew you’d never get any sleep if you stayed in there. Your room wasn’t big but it was good enough for now and much better than sleeping in your momma’s death bed, hard pass.
You’d taken a seat on the couch with some tea you’d brewed up earlier that morning. This was the first time you sat down since arriving, and of course there’s a knock at the door.
“Whatever you’re selling, I promise you, I ain’t interested.” You shout, too exhausted to even attempt getting up.
The knocking continued, “Oh, for fucks sake.” You groaned under your breath and stood on your aching feet to tell them to fuck off in person. You opened the door, “did you not hear me the first time. I said-“
“Hi, Y/n” Lee greeted as he removed his hat.
You scoffed, “Can I help you with somethin’, Sheriff?”
Lee stood there, fiddling with the bill of his hat. His belly had gotten a little bigger and his cheeks had gotten a little chubbier, but you couldn’t help the hitch in your throat when his wedding ring caught your eye. Just a basic silver band, nothing special. But it still left a hollow pit in your stomach.
“I-“ he cleared his suddenly dry throat. “I heard you was back in town. Thought I’d come see for ma self if the rumors were true.”
“Welp, here I am. You can go now.”
“Y/n, I-“
“No, Lee, please. I’ve had a long day and I honestly don’t feel like talking to you right now. No, I take that back. I don’t feel like talking to you at all.”
“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think, doll.” He grins.
“Goodbye, Sheriff.” You shut the door only to hear him holler at you from the other side.
“Still can’t say my name, huh, Doll? Boy, I really did a number on you, didn’t I?” Your heart sank at his words. It seemed your pain was a joke to him this whole time. You’d always pictured him crying alone like you were but clearly that was never the case. Y’all’s relationship didn’t seem one sided until you were the only one hurt by the fall out.
“Welcome home, Y/n.” He said before you heard his boots click against the porch as he left.
You took a deep breath as you backed away from the door. Tears rimmed your eyes and you scoffed aloud to yourself. After three years you still weren’t over him and you knew that. You didn’t know, however, that he’d still have such a hold on you. And by the way he reacted to how sensitive you were towards the situation still didn’t help the ever growing void that ran through your entire loveless body. The only man you ever loved looked at you as if you were a quick fuck and a punchline.
A tear burned against your cheek and you were quick to wipe it away. You swore to yourself that you’d never cry over that man again and you won’t, instead you decided it was time for a much needed bath.
The bath was scolding hot, just how you liked it, and you opened up a bottle of wine as a sort of reward for the work you’d done today. Once the water got cold and the wine ran out, you brushed your hand and teeth and went to bed.
//
The sun beamed down against your skin as you walked to the local auto shop where your aunt had set you up with another job. You were always good with numbers and they desperately needed someone on the books. Your job would be to look at their spending over the last few months and figure out some sort of budget. You did that for your aunt at her shop, so this didn’t worry you at all.
“Hi, you must be Billy.” You greet the owner, “I’m
y/n, Peggy’s niece.”
“Oh, yes. I’m glad you finally made it down.” He beamed, shaking your hand, “How long will you be here for?”
“I’m not sure, actually. Just until I get my house fixed up enough to sell.” You say, retracting your hand from his sweaty one.
“Ah, well as luck would have it, our secretary just quit on us last week, so there’s a position you’ll adjust to right fine.”
You scoffed, “Wait a minute. Did you say secretary?”
“Yeah. You need to get your hearing checked, Honey?” He grinned. What is it with the men in this town?!
“No, I heard you just fine. My problem is that I was supposed to be your Budget Holder, not a damn secretary.” Your face was turning a touch of pink as you became increasingly annoyed.
“That’s a man's job, sweetie. We don’t you blown a fuse tryin’ ta add up all them numbers, now do we?”
“You can’t be serious.” You say flatly.
“Look, it’s the only position we got. Take it or leave it.”
Everything in you wanted to March out of that shop and never go back again. A secretary's position is nothing to frown upon, but to only be offered it because you’re a woman was despicable. Sadly, you needed this job and it would only be for a few months. So, when you told him you’d take the job you swallowed every ounce of respect you had for yourself. Knockemstiff was truly the worst town in America.
“Sounds great. We’ll see you tomorrow for training. There’s no dress code but there are a few things you’ll need to know before starting. I’ll fill you in once we start your training tomorrow.” He shook your hand again, completely ignoring the furious grimace on your face.
“Great. See you tomorrow.” You mumbled, walking away so you didn’t ‘accidentally’ hit your new boss.
//
Before heading home you decided to stop and grab some things for the house. Being sick, your momma didn’t eat much besides soup, and there was an over abundance of vanilla flavored Ovaltine cans littering the kitchen counters, which you hated.
The second the doors opened, all eyes were on you. You even heard a faint gasp coming from the woman at the register. A smirk crept upon your face. These people's lives were so boring that they still aren’t over your breakup that happened so long ago. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a cart and headed down the produce aisle.
Once you grabbed the vegetables you’d need for a stew, you headed towards the baking aisle. You need the ingredients for an upside down pineapple cake your momma used to make for you as a kid. Your aunt was coming into town on Saturday to lend a hand and celebrate her birthday. You told her to go have fun, but she insisted on spending her special day with you.
As you searched for the baking soda, you heard your name.
“Did you see Y/n’s back in town?” A lady with a high pitched voice whispered.
“I did. I just saw her. Poor thing. She’s probably still caught up on the sheriff. Prolly wish it was her that was on his arm instead of Laura-Jean.”
You rolled your eyes.
“I know it. Wouldn’t you, though? He’s so handsome.” The lady with the high patched voice giggled.
“Oh, hush! Don’t say things like that.” The other lady joined the high pitched one in whispered giggles. “Oh my goodness, here he comes.” She cleared her throat, “Afternoon, Sheriff.”
“Evenin’,Ladies. Y’all behavin’ yourselves?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.
They both giggled and in unison said, “Yes, Sheriff.”
“Oh give me a break.” You grimaced to yourself.
“Heard Y/n’s back in town.” The high pitched one spoke up. Your face burned. Why would they bring you up to him so bluntly like that? Everyone in this town was so unbelievably nosy.
“I- I heard. Actually just went to see her yesterday.” He said, clearing his throat.
“Uh-oh, the misses didn’t like that, I’m sure.” They giggled.
“Oh, no. She didn’t mind. I was just droppin’ by to give her my condolences about her momma dyin’. Then, she slammed the door in my face. I guess she’s still pretty upset with me.” He was pouting, trying to get some sort of sympathy. If you rolled your eyes any harder you thought they’d pop out of your head.
“Oh, you poor thing. Is there anything we can-“
Suddenly the baking soda slipped from your hand and scattered all other the floor in a puff of dust. “Shit, shit, shit.” You whispered to yourself.
“What was that?” One of the ladies asked.
“Excuse me, ladies.” Lee said. You could hear his boots clacking against the floor on there way over to you.
Shit.
You desperately wanted to run away but leaving this mess for someone to clean up wasn’t right, not even with the predicament you found yourself in. “Well, well, well,” Lee mocked as he rounded the corner. “Only here for less than a day and you’re already causin’ trouble.”
“Stay out of this, Bodecker.” You huff, trying to scoop the baking soda back into the card box it spilled from.
“Was you eavesdroppin’, girl?” He asked, kicking the soul of your shoe.
You scoffed, “Oh, please. I could give two shits what you say about me, Bodecker.”
He leaned in close, hovering over your left side. You heard him chuckle which startled you. He was so close. You could feel the familiar heat radiating from his body and smell that familiar cologne. His lips came down close to your ear. He licked them and then whispered, “If ya weren’t eavesdroppin’, how’d ya know I was talkin’ bout you, hm?”
Your eyes shuttered closed as he spoke, feeling his hot breath against your cheek. His deep southern drawl always made you weak. It took you back to those times in the back of the cruiser. He whispered such dirty praises in your ear when you would ride his cock. Those dirty words that could make you cum in seconds.
“You still with me, doll?” You felt him tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.
You flitched and stood up, “I- don’t touch me and stop calling me doll, alright? I really don’t have time for your games today, sheriff, and I’m not even really sure what you’re playin’ at in the first place.”
He smirked, running a thumb across his lip, “Darlin, I think the only thing I ever played was you..”
“I-“ your breath hitched in the back of your throat, “I have to go.” You turned to walk away, leaving the mess you’d made and your cart behind. Your eyes welled up with tears again. You didn’t know the man that stood in front of you. Lee was nothing but good to you when you dated and now he’s the most hateful man you’d ever met. The man you loved had disappeared and there’s nothing you could do to bring him back, no matter how bad you wanted to. A tear stained your cheek as you sped through the aisle. You could hear Lee hollering for you to stop but you wouldn’t this time.
All the heartbreak and sorrow that you’d left behind was creeping its way back in. The sooner you sold the house and got the hell out of there, the better.
Dividers by: @firefly-in-darkness
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Word Count: 5118
CW: angst, smut but not super filthy smut (medium filth?), bad language
Dress and shoes that Nina wore in this chapter
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Only three more chapters and an epilogue left
Nina fidgeted as dug into her pocketbook for her keys to her parents’ house. It was time for Sunday dinner, the one meal a week that she wasn’t responsible for cooking and therefore, Nina never missed it. Cooking was not her forte and Nina had no problems with that. However, this Sunday dinner, she needed to talk to her family about their lives changing.
The smell of roast chicken filled the house and Nina took a deep sniff as she opened and closed the door. Aryanna and Dad were watching the late game aka hate-watching the Ravens vs Saints. The Steelers were playing on Monday night this week.
“Heey sweettart,” Vernon said, getting up to give his oldest daughter a hug.
Nina hugged her father back, holding him close for a second. “Hi Dad.”
“Oh no!”
Nina ended the hug, turning with her father towards the tv. Lamar Jackson had just run for a 20-yard touchdown. They all groaned; the Steelers needed the Ravens to lose as both teams were running neck to neck for the AFC North crown. As Nina got absorbed into the game, the situation with Sidney was still in the back of her mind.
Nina had talked to her mom earlier in the day, explaining everything to her mother, well everything but the sex. Tracey had listened with an open ear before telling her daughter not to make a decision over her potential happiness just because of how it could affect her family. Tracey had reminded Nina that Jason, while he was at UNC now, had been a 5-star tight end prospect and they dealt with the media when it was time for him to sign with a college.
After talking to her mom, Nina had taken a nap before coming to sunday dinner. As she watched the game, waiting to eat, Nina hoped for courage. However, she kept it to herself when it was time to eat, instead listening to Aryanna talk about school, her dad talk about his new position at work which meant that he wasn’t going to be going out on the road as much anymore. Nina shared some stories about her clients while Tracey talked about the switch to travel nursing over working in the hospital. But when it was over, Nina gulped and summoned her courage.
“So, I got news,” Nina started once dinner was over and dessert was served. She looked down at her glass of water. Before she could continue, Aryanna piped up. “Let me guess, you’re breaking up with Sidney Crosby because you’re a punk.”
“Aryanna!”
Nina glared at her little sister while Tracey reprimanded, “That was rude, little girl.”
“Sorry,” Aryanna muttered.
“Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted,” Nina said, “I have news. After thinking about it, talking to Sidney, and going over the pros and cons, I’ve decided to give him another chance.”
Tracey smiled as Aryanna shouted yes. Vernon looked at his daughter and carefully said, “Are you ready for it?”
Nina grimaced. “As ready as I can possibly. Are y’all?”
“We only want you to be happy, sweetie,” Tracey consoled. “Plus, I saw those pics of you two. He’s smitten.”
Nina groaned while Aryanna laughed. Vernon added, “We were already planning to move soon anyway. We’ve been looking at homes in South HIlls and we just closed on a house in Mt. Lebanon.”
“Oh wow. When was I going to find out,” Nina said with a smirk. She knew her parents had been thinking of moving for a while but the market had been super hot for a long time. Before she had moved into her current apartment, Nina had heard of the different arguments her parents had about moving to different areas. But before they could find somewhere, someone else would snap it up.
Tracey grinned. “We weren’t going to say anything until we closed because of how long it took to find somewhere. It’s taken almost two years and we even saved enough to offer forty percent as a down payment. It’s a fixer-upper though but it has a bigger backyard for my garden and the schools are better.”
“What are you going to do with this house,” Nina asked before taking a bite of her sweet potato pie. Fuck, she wished she could bake and cook just so she could make herself sweet potato pie all of the time.
Vernon replied, “Probably sell. There are people looking to buy even though this area isn’t that great. ”
“I guess it’s settled. This is exciting though.”
Tracey snickered before looking at her husband. “I hope you are still excited when we need you to help pack, Ni-ni.”
Nina looked to her right before taking out her phone and sending a quick message. Free monday? 12pm?
She received a quick response. Yup, just tell me where to meet
Vernon casually commented, “I’m also looking at it this way; this is a practice for when Jason is in the NFL and becomes famous.”
“Good point,” Tracey said. “I can start practicing telling people no even more now.”
Nina laughed. “Looks like I have nothing to worry about then.”
The conversation switched to the Steelers game tomorrow night as they finished dessert.
**
Honestly, Sidney was a bit surprised to get a message from Nina so quickly. He had fully expected her to wait until Wednesday and he had been preparing himself for the worst possible outcome. As a competitor, prepping for each game meant learning his opponents’ strengths and weaknesses. Nina wasn’t his opponent but Sidney was now very aware of the power she had over him with just one look, let alone her touch or words.
Nina had asked to meet somewhere that wasn’t at their homes. Sidney suggested lunch but after looking at his schedule, he asked if Nina could maybe meet him at the Pens offices and then get lunch after. Fidgeting in the smaller conference room, Sidney began to worry that Nina wouldn’t show up when the clock showed that it was already five minutes past the time they agreed to. But then, Nina wasn’t the most on time person either so Sidney rationalized to himself, he should worry if it was fifteen minutes passed and she still wasn’t here.
Then outside the door, Sidney saw Nina talking with Evelyn, one of their PR mavens. They were having an animated discussion and Sidney smiled softly. Nina opened the door and grinned at him. “Hi Sid, sorry for being late.”
Evelyn waved at Sidney and he waved back. After Nina walked in, Evelyn peeped in and said, “I was just catching up with Nina since it’s been a while since she’s been here.”
Sidney nodded as Nina replied, “thank you so much for the advice, Evelyn, I will definitely use it!”
Evelyn waved goodbye before closing the door firmly. Nina chose a chair directly across from Sidney and sat down. There was a brief pause before Nina giggled. “Oh my God, you looked like you were about to die before I showed up.”
“Well, I had to remind myself that you’d show up but part of me still was worried because of everything in our last conversations,” Sidney replied.
The aura in the room turned serious as Nina bit her lip and folded her hands together. “Yeah, those conversations,” Nina started. “I like you a lot, Sidney Crosby, but… I hate this circus that surrounds you. I know that it’s something you can’t control but I hate it. But I realized, especially after talking to my mom, there’s nothing I can do about it now. My life’s forever changed.”
Sidney cleared his throat but Nina stopped him. “Let me finish, Sid because I can already tell you’re ready to make promises you can’t keep. So let me save both of us the headache.”
Sitting back, Sidney leaned in his chair. “What are your plans, pretty girl?”
“You have to get over being super private and claim me publicly. You want me to be yours, Mr. Crosby? Then you have to let the world know we are together. No are they or aren’t they bullshit.”
Nina glared at Sidney when she was done. Sidney flushed; part of him hated the idea of letting the world know more than they really needed to know about his personal life. At the same time, he already knew he was going to do whatever Nina asked him to, in his own way. “You know I don’t use social media,” Sidney began before trailing off. Then he smirked.
Nina casually said, “you’ll find a way.”
“I already figured it out,” Sidney drawled. “What else do you want, pretty girl?”
“No more surprise meet ups with people from the team, let me know ahead of time. Just like I’ll let you know ahead of time whenever I decide you should meet my fam.”
Sidney actually blushed while Nina arched an eyebrow. “I know I’m amazing but that was a bit uncomfortable when I think back. At least you didn’t abandon me to talk to your teammates and let me fend for myself.”
“I’m sorry, Nina,” Sidney apologized. He felt really bad now: he had been so excited that he really didn’t think about how Nina would have felt. Nina shrugged; it wasn’t that bad to be honest because Sidney stayed at her side, introduced her to everyone, and made sure she was included. But that didn’t mean she wanted him to continue doing that.
Nina smiled at Sidney and asked, “what do you think, Sid?”
Sidney scratched his jaw as he thought of his reply. It was relatively simple but it would also be life-changing for him. He finally said, “Yes, it all sounds good. But I have one thing?”
“What’s that?”
Sidney smirked as he looked Nina up and down. Nina rolled her eyes as she smiled. She could guess where his mind was, right in the gutter. But Sidney surprised her when he said, “Then let me spoil you. I have no problem claiming you publicly, but I want you to let me treat you like I’ve been wanting to treat you.”
Nina gave Sidney a bashful smile before looking to the side. “I’ll never say no to purses and shoes but I don’t want you to buy out the store-“
“I already know that, sweetheart,” Sidney firmly said, “but let me treat you like you deserve.”
“Okay, okay,” Nina conceded.
Sidney pushed his chair back, making space. Then he patted his lap. “Come ‘ere.”
Nina got out of her chair and sat on Sidney’s lap. “You know where we are,” she hissed even though she had obeyed him.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, Sidney smiled. Smelling her coconut-vanilla scent, he realized how much he had missed her. “I know, I’m not going to do anything inappropriate, pretty girl. Just missed having you close to me.”
Sidney kissed the back of Nina’s neck, causing her to shiver. “Watch the postgame of our next game, Nina. Now, what do you want for lunch?”
“Um, honestly, I want Chipotle. I have to get back to work in about an hour so nothing fancy,” Nina replied.
Turning so that she was facing Sidney, she placed her index finger over his lips when he opened his mouth. “I forgot to add this earlier but I’m also going to say this now. I’m not quitting my job anytime soon. I’m going to finish my Ph.D. and if I decide to stop working, it’s because I plan to teach full-time. So, if you expect I’ll be waiting at home and living for you, now you know that’s not going to happen,” Nina stated.
Sidney opened his mouth to reply but the door opened. “Hey, I’ve been looking for you, Sidney!”
Nina squeaked in surprise and Sidney sighed. It was Brian Burke and Sidney was sure that it was probably something important but this wasn’t quite the moment where he wanted to see him.
Brian smiled. “It looks like you two have made up.”
Nina weakly waved. At first, she was going to move off of Sidney’s lap but his hand around her waist made that impossible. “I’d introduce myself but I figure I interrupted,” Brian continued.
“It’s okay, I was on my way to get lunch,” Nina replied.
Sidney added, “With me.”
“Don’t forget, you said you wanted to help with more planning for our pride game this season,” Brian reminded Sidney.
“Ohh, the pride game! You’re getting more involved in it? That’s awesome,” Nina exclaimed.
Sidney blushed as he smiled under Nina’s praise.
“Would you be interested in being involved, Nina,” Brian asked.
Nina paused for a second, her eyes wide. “Um, sure.”
“I can get your contact information from Sidney,” Brian asked.
Nina nodded as Sidney rubbed his hand up and down her back. Sidney said, “I’ll let you know,” as Brian closed the door.
Placing a hand over her face, Nina sighed. “Wow.”
“It’s fine. Look, your first volunteer project,” Sidney kidded.
“I need to eat.”
**
The game against the Isles had gone well. Sidney had tallied two assists and a goal in a 4-2 win after having a four game slump. Normally post-game interviews were a necessary evil but he was a bit nervous this time. Not because he knew they were going to ask about getting out of his slump, but because of what he was going to say.
The first couple of questions were easy softballs. Then Sidney was hit with the question that opened the door.
“Sidney, great breaking your slump. There were rumors that your personal life was affecting your game on the ice. What do you think about that?”
Sidney looked at the reporters, all ready for him to give a cliche. Instead, Sidney admitted the truth. “My personal life was affecting my game on the ice. But we’ve fixed our issues and I’m glad.”
There was a pause, as if the reporters didn’t know where to start. Sidney looked at one of the PR interns to the side. The intern gave him a slight smile and a quick thumbs up. Sidney decided to continue, “We prefer to keep our relationship private for now but she means a lot to me and is very important to my life. I will not be answering any more questions about my relationship at this moment.”
Luckily, the rest of the questions were about hockey but Sidney knew that his statement was going to be a big part of what everyone was going to talk about. Once back in the locker room, Geno gave Sidney a big grin. Tanger said, “You did it?”
“Yeah but I’m serious, I’m not going to answer a bunch of questions about my personal life,” Sidney replied. “Now though, every time we struggle, the dumbasses will start talking about it.”
Tanger grimaced as Geno said, “Fuck them.”
Guentzy laughed as he stated, “I agree with Geno. Fuck them.”
Sidney laughed as he pulled his shirt off before pulling off his pads. Sitting in his crocs, hockey pants and pads, Sidney pulled out his phone. There was just one message from the only person who’s opinion mattered to him, wow😍 .
Sidney replied back, made it official for u but in the way u wanted 😁😏
😘🥰 part of me can’t believe it but i’m happy u listened to me, was Nina’s reply.
Sidney texted, only 4 u, before finishing getting undressed so he could take a shower.
**
To be totally honest, Nina thought her life would have exploded the minute that Sidney admitted that he was seeing someone in the post-game conference after the Isles game. It wouldn’t take much to put 2 and 2 together, especially when she went out with Sidney and the Malkins to a popular Shadyside restaurant the day after. But things were relatively calmer.
There were still the nasty looks from other people, especially women when Nina was out by herself, running her everyday errands. But there were also people who seemed to defer to her and it felt so fucking weird. Like, if she wanted to, Nina felt like people were ready to let her do whatever she wanted because she was now Sidney Crosby’s girlfriend.
Nina bit her lip as she waited in line to pay for her groceries. Then someone bumped into her and it was Ron. “Hey Nina, long time no see.”
“Hi Ron,” Nina replied with a strained smile.
“Not everyday one sees their ex. Look at you, shopping like the rest of us. Your man ain’t ordering groceries for you.”
Nina resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She could feel the eyes of other people at Weis and she knew there were people looking for something to gossip about. Nina definitely didn’t want to give Ron the satisfaction of a reaction. She merely replied, “I have my own life I have to take care of on my own.”
“Oh wow, because I remember the way you two were looking at each other that time we went out on a date. Makes me think you were cheating on me with him,” Ron goaded.
Nina gave him a blank look. “We were long over, for almost three years, before I went out with Sidney. But you had two other women when we were a couple,” Nina stated with a shrug. “Anyway, it’s my turn to check out. Bye.”
Nina tuned Ron out as she checked out. The cashier commented, “That guy seems like a dick.”
“You live and you learn,” Nina replied with a smile as she paid, unaware that someone had uploaded video of that encounter to the internet.
**
Sidney gulped down his protein shake, home after practice. The season was starting well but he felt like the team could be better. Sidney wanted another cup, one more cup and he felt like this was the year. Then his phone buzzed and he saw it was his mom.
“Hi Mom,” Sidney said, sitting on his sofa. He had some time before he needed to get ready for tonight and it was always good to talk to his mother.
Trina chirped, “Hi Sidney, how are you?”
“I’m doing good, short practice today before our game against New Jersey tomorrow,” Sidney idly replied as he turned his tv on. Flipping through Netflix, he chose an episode of How I Met Your Mother.
He could hear his mother’s smile through the phone when she teased, “Your father told me you told the press that you are seeing someone last week. Is it that girl you kept talking about over the years?”
Sidney giggle-honked before admitting, “Yes, it is. I’m finally dating Nina.”
“Are you sure it’s a good idea? This is something totally different for you,” Trina asked, concerned. Her son had a relationship with Kathy but this situation with this new girl was something totally different. Part of her was worried that since Sidney had wanted this girl for so long, that he was diving into this without really thinking about it.
Sidney replied, “You sound like Nina.”
“Hmm, I do?”
“Yep, Mom, you did,” Sidney said, “Nina wasn’t sure if it was a good idea for a long time but I managed to convince her it was.”
Trina was still feeling skeptical. From what she knew, this girl was from the area, a fan of the team, a different race, and had worked for the team for a period of time. It was possible she could be playing the long game. “Is she there with you now?”
Knowing her son, Trina was convinced that Nina was already living with her son. Her son, when he decided he wanted something, went all out to get it. She was surprised when Sidney said, “No, she’s at work, then she has class.”
“Class,” Trina asked, her tone perking up. This sounded interesting.
Sidney informed his mother, “Nina decided to get a PhD in rehabilitation science this year. She works as a physical therapist.”
“That sounds interesting, isn’t that how you met her,” Trina idly said. The door opened and Troy stepped in. Trina put her finger to her mouth to shush her husband.
Sidney scratched his head, wondering where his mother was going with these questions. “Yes. Nina works somewhere else totally different now. But she’s looking into becoming a professor after guest lecturing at, I think, Pitt.”
Trina raised her eyebrows. That was interesting information. Switching the conversation to more mundane subjects, Trina filed that information in the back of her head. It sounded like this Nina was a bit more well-rounded than she thought.
Sidney sighed when he hung up on his mother. That conversation felt like one thing but he could sense there was another undercurrent. Then he received a picture message from Nina and his mind went straight to the gutter. Sidney sighed; it was going to be a long night.
**
“You look very nice.”
Nina smiled as she replied, “Thank you,” to the guest.
It was kind of last minute, this dinner that Nina found herself invited to. It was thrown by Nathalie and most of the top brass of the Penguins were here as well as Sidney, the Letangs, and the Malkins. Because Sidney had gone public with their relationship, Nina had found herself suddenly invited. Luckily for her, Nina already had an appropriate cocktail dress for the occasion.
Her dress was black with an asymmetrical one shoulder with a bow but it came to just above knee level. Nina’s heels were gold, an impulse purchase several months ago that she was happy to have. The outfit was classy, understated, and definitely Penguins colors.
Sidney seemed to like it as well from the way his arm stayed possessively around Nina’s waist whenever possible. At least it wasn’t a public event; the possessiveness would have looked bad. But because it was informal and in a private room at PPG arena, Sidney was able to get away with it.
The length was a blessing and a curse. A blessing that it meant that Sidney couldn’t try to do any funny business during dinner but a curse in that the more he touched her, the more Nina wanted him. By the end of the night, it was obvious that Sidney was getting close to losing his cool and Nina was loving it.
As soon as they got into the car at the end of the night, Sidney pounced. His lips touched hers, demanding and devouring as he kissed her. Then abruptly, Sidney let go. “You'd been torturing me all night in that little black dress. So sexy, the way it showed off my pretty girl’s body.”
Sidney already knew that Nina was perfect in every way anyway. However, as soon as he saw her step in with that black dress and gold heels, it took every ounce of media training and self-control for Sidney not to strip it off of her and fuck her right there. Right now, he was glad that he hired a car after this event.
Sidney didn’t even do anything in the car other than keep his hand on Nina’s thigh. The difference was that he told Nina every filthy thing he planned to do to her once he got her home. Nina wiggled on the seat, her legs shifting as Sidney whispered what he planned to do to her. It was insane, what he could do to her with his words.
Nina had expected Sidney to push her against the wall when they got back to his place but instead, he just guided Nina to the kitchen before taking out two glasses. Picking out a wine, Sidney poured two glasses.
“I’ve missed you in my bed but I’m patient,” Sidney stated, his hands palming Nina’s ass before giving both cheeks a smack. Then Sidney picked up the glasses of wine and passed one to Nina.
Nina smirked. “I’m not,” she said as she took a sip.
“Can’t be patient for me, pretty girl?”
Nina shrugged as she took another sip. Then she delicately licked a drop that was on her lower lip, causing Sidney to visibly grunt and shudder. “Maybe,” Nina finally replied.
“Good.”
Sidney sat down in a chair and patted his lap. Nina sat on his lap, the hem of her dress riding up. “Did you have a good time?”
“I actually did for something that was pretty last minute. Don’t ask me if I remember everyone’s name yet.”
“That’s okay,” Sidney reassured Nina. “No one expects you to remember everyone, yet.”
Nina snorted before taking another sip of her wine. Idly, Sidney added, “Fuck, I love this dress.”
“Maybe if you move your hands higher underneath it, you’ll get a surprise,” Nina taunted. Licking her lips, she winked.
Unable to resist a challenge, Sidney moved his hand higher and higher. Then he whistled when he realized Nina’s surprise. “You went commando all night and didn’t tell me?”
“I’m lucky this dress was lined so well that no one could tell,” Nina admitted. “But it was worth it.”
“How,” Sidney asked as his hand touched Nina’s pussy. She was already wet.
Nina smirked. “Because I knew if you found out tonight, the look on your face would have been priceless.”
Sidney ignored that statement as he stroked Nina’s core with his fingers. Rolling her clit with his fingers, Sidney hissed at the idea that Nina was here, with him tonight. His pretty girl, perfect in his lap. "I love how wet you get for me, pretty girl."
"Only for you, daddy," Nina moaned as she clutched his shoulders. Sidney growled at her words, her pussy clenching harder on his fingers.
Suddenly, Sidney picked Nina up and placed her on the table. Nina smiled as she hiked up her dress and spread her legs. Sidney licked his lips. “We’re gonna see how many times you cum for me tonight, pretty girl.”
“Fuck, I can’t wait,” Nina moaned as his mouth met her core.
**
Sidney woke, at first disoriented because someone else was in his bed and curled up on top of him. Then he realized it was Nina and he relaxed. Her head was on top of his chest, one arm on him as she slept on her side. Carefully extracting himself, Sidney went to the bathroom. After relieving himself, he watched Nina continue to sleep, now curled into herself. Sidney took a quick picture, it was so cute. However, after taking the picture, he checked his messages. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted.
Nina opened her eyes slowly, her body deliciously sore after last night. Stretching out her arms, she sleepily asked, “What’s wrong, Sid?”
“Seems like someone has something against you, pretty girl,” Sidney said, suppressing his fury.
Nina’s eyes snapped open, sleep now forgotten. Sitting up, she queried, “What happened?”
“There's a video of you with some guy at a market.”
Grimacing, Nina sighed. “I ran into Ron while getting groceries. He was being a jagoff asshole.”
“You don’t look bad at all, PR thinks you handled it perfectly.”
Nina got off the bed and walked over to Sidney. Wrapping her arms around him, she pleaded, “Fuck him and fuck whoever took video.”
Snuggling into Sidney’s chest, Nina nipped one of his nipples. “Plot your revenge later, Sid. It’s eight am and I know you have a maintenance day today. Come back to bed.”
“‘Come back to bed?’ You know this is my bed,” Sidney joked. His anger was going away each second that Nina was pressed against him, her lips giving him little kisses and bites on his upper body.
Nina looked up at Sidney, giving him soulful eyes. “Please, daddy?”
Trailing her hands around his neck, Nina murmured, “I’ve been so good. Please?”
“Fuck, how can I say no,” Sidney groaned as Nina giggled. Picking her up, he tossed her on the bed.
Scooting back, Nina spread her legs as Sidney settled in the middle of them. “I love the way you fuck me, Sidney.”
Sidney smirked, his brown eyes smoldering as he crouched over Nina. “Oh do you?”
“Yes, I do,” Nina hummed, her fingers tugging on his chain. “You should do it again.”
Sidney settled between Nina’s thighs, pulling her legs around his waist. His lips lowered to hers in a gentle kiss. Slow and drugging, enough to make both of them red hot for each other, full of promise. Pulling away, Sidney nipped Nina’s lower lip. Nina sucked her lip into her mouth, her brown eyes meeting Sidney’s. Cupping Nina’s chin, Sidney reminded her, “How do you ask, pretty girl?”
“Please fuck me, daddy,” Nina asked, her body arching towards his. “Make me yours.”
“Good girl.”
**
Nina tried hard not to feel self-conscious as she made her way to the ice-level with Aryanna, Catherine and her children, and Anna with Nikita. It had been a week since that awful article with video from her interaction with Ron. It had been set up to make Nina look like a gold digging whore and it hurt to have guys, guys she had only gone out with once or twice, say things that made her seem horrible. Nina hadn’t admitted that part to Sid when he was in a fury about it. Lauren had reminded Nina that men tend to be assholes about women that they couldn’t have and that Nina was way beyond their level even before her current relationship.
Even though Nina had distracted Sidney that morning, by the afternoon, that article was off the internet. A radio host had mentioned it and then within an hour, issued an apology for talking about it. However, it was forgotten pretty quickly as more people cared about the Steelers potentially staying undefeated with a game coming up against the Browns.
Nina smiled as they reached the ice. The team was doing warm-ups and Sidney was in the midst of his pregame rituals. She actually had more enjoyment from watching Aryanna react to watching the guys on the ice. Tanev gave the glass near them an ice shower while Geno and Kris had greeted Nina and Aryanna while saying hi to their families. Then, very unexpectedly, Sidney broke one of his traditions and came over. Giving the glass a small shower, Sidney waved at Aryanna before smirking at Nina. Nina smirked back before giving Sid a little wave.
As people took pictures of Sid waving to her, Nina smiled. She could live with this, maybe. ‘No, that was a lie’, Nina thought as they made their way to the family box. She was going to have to live with this now, it was too far gone to go back. And she didn’t want to.
#sidney crosby#sidney crosby imagines#Sidney Crosby imagine#Sidney Crosby smut#sidney crosby fic#hockey imagine#hockey fic#hockey imagines#hockey rpf#nhl rpf#nhl imagine#nhl imagines#nhl fanfiction#nhl fic#nhl smut#smut#penguins imagines#penguins imagine#penguins fic#all bets are off#hockey fanfiction#crosby fic#Crosby rpf#hockey smut#nhl writing#hockey writing
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Wizards Hearts Smut Recs: Semi-Public Sex
Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here. Players could opt in to an additional suit of 13 cards, all themed around various popular smut tropes.
Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!
📜 (We'll Call This Fixer-Upper) Home by phdmama
Rated: Explicit
Words: 52520
Tags: Rock Star Draco Malfoy, Artist Harry Potter, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post Traumatic Growth, mental health, Original Character(s), Original Character Death(s), (all those are in the past), Recreational Drug Use, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Hooking up, Dating, Semi-Public Sex, Growth and Healing, Mention of Suicidal Ideation, Getting Together, Boys Kissing, Falling In Love
Summary: Draco Malfoy hasn’t set foot on English soil in ten years. After the war, he fled to America, where he found himself in a community, and healed himself through following his heart into music. He’s now the lead singer and songwriter for an internationally known band, who have come back to headline the Wiltshire Music Festival. But as Draco is about to learn, his past isn’t as far away as he might have believed, and his future may hold more than he ever could have dreamed.
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📜 Under the Cover of Darkness by manixzen
Rated: Mature
Words: 2046
Tags: Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, Making Out, Snogging, Frottage, Clothes On, Post-Hogwarts, Party Games, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, Sort Of, Minor Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley, HP Kinktober 2020, One Shot
Summary: Thanks to Pansy, Draco's stuck at a party with a whole bunch of drunk Gryffindors. And now they want to play party games. If only Draco can slip out unnoticed before this gets any worse.
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📜 Starkissed by Zigster
Rated: Explicit
Words: 32631
Tags: Digital Art, Fated Markings, Tattoos, But Not Tattoos, Italy, Venice, Vacation, Beaches, Crashing Waves, Deception, Intrigue, Carnevale di Venezia, Muggle Photography, Slow Burn, Sexual Tension, Body Worship, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Rimming, Enthusiastic Giving of Head, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Tattooed Harry Potter, Pining Harry Potter, Harry Potter is Obsessed with Draco Malfoy, Snarky Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy With Pink Hair, Original Characters as Draco's Flatmates, They Have Lots of Plants, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, H/D Sex Fair 2020
Summary: “Your tattoos!” The intruder says, boldly stepping over Ron’s chaise and crossing in front of Hermione to get to Harry, eyes wide and hungry. Harry immediately sits up, pulling the towel draped across the back of his chair down over his shoulders.
“No! Don’t cover them. They’re beautiful.”
Harry hopes an indulgent trip abroad will help shake him out of the doldrums of his life. What he finds once he gets to Venice is more than he ever expected.
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📜 Ardour of Karma by XxTheDarkLordxX
Rated: Explicit
Words: 17118
Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Auror Harry Potter, Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Getting Together, Cursed Harry Potter, Scents & Smells, heightened sense of smell, Porn With Plot, Erections, Inappropriate Erections, Sexual Fantasy, Fantasizing, Masturbation, Dirty Talk, Mutual Masturbation, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Switching, Face-Fucking, Dildos, H/D Erised 2019 ,Office Sex, Desk Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Comeplay
Summary: “Malfoy knows something is going on with you and unless you both want to go back to fighting and death glares, you should fix it.”
“How do I do that? Just waltz up to him and say, ‘I know I’ve been a prat but your scent makes my dick swell. How’s your day?’”
“Mind repeating that?”
The familiar drawl had Harry’s throat clamming up as his blood ran cold. Oh no.
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📜 Brighter than the sun by migrating_coconut
Rated: Explicit
Words: 3490
Tags: Humor, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Explicit Sexual Content, Getting Together, Harry Potter in a swimsuit, Gay Disaster Draco Malfoy, Semi-Public Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Inappropriate Erections, HP Drizzle Fest 2020, Community: hp_drizzle
Summary: Draco was promised a relaxing day at the beach. This was certainly not it!
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📜 the best treasure is up Harry’s arse by bafflinghaze
Rated: Explicit
Words: 2891
Tags: Established Relationship, Smut, Consensual Somnophilia, Anal Fingering, So Much Fingering, Top Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Potter, Light Dom/sub, Prostate Milking, Anal Plug, Light Dom Draco Malfoy, Bratty Sub Harry Potter, Sassy Harry Potter, Post-Hogwarts, H/D Sex Fair 2020, Porn with Feelings, Dirty Talk, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Summary: Harry and Draco probably had a tumultuous time getting together, filled with angst and denial and pining and brooding. However, this is not that story. Here, Draco makes Harry come (more than once).
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📜 Touch Me Fall by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill)
Rated: Explicit
Words: 23380
Tags: Rentboys, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Top Draco, Switching, Exhibitionism, Barebacking, Prostitution, Foot Massage, Atrocious Texting
Summary: Malfoy was such a ponce. And he was a complete snob. And he was so fucking fit Harry wanted to jump him where he sat. It would be too easy to forget his objective tonight: to really, really, really get Malfoy out of his system.
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📜 I guess that's just me, honey, I guess that's how I'm built by crimsonheadache
Rated: Explicit
Words: 4048
Tags: formal wear, Semi-Public Sex, Sub Harry, Dom Draco Malfoy, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Getting Together
Summary: The way they adorned Potter’s body like they were made for him made him want to kiss his seamstresses’ feet. The lines, the colors, brought out his skin tone like nothing ever could. Well, except perhaps the ropes Draco keeps in the bottom drawer of his bedside table.
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📜 Catching the Niffler by keyflight790, tsundanire
Rated: Explicit
Words: 10377
Tags: Party, Party Games, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Accidental Voyeurism, Flashing, Fellatio, Fellating an Inanimate Object, Frottage, Orgasm, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Simultaneous Orgasm, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Girls Kissing, Everyones Kissing, Masturbation, Public Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Public Hand Jobs, Public Sex, Rimming, In Public, Everythings in Public in this Fic, Top Harry Potter, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Cunnilingus, Dry Humping, Anal Sex, Second Base, Neville makes it to Second Base, We're so proud of him, and Hannah, Boys In Love, eventually, Happy Ending, more than one, wink wonk, Friends Writing Together, This is what happens when BFFs write together, we make no apologies, except for Terry Boot, sorry Terry, eighth year
Summary: “Tonight, we’re going to play Catch the Niffler.” Harry heard a couple of squeals from around the room and he let out a breath. Last week they had played Spin the Bottle, and Harry could count on more than one hand the witches that had spelled the glass to point to him during their turn. Harry had tasted enough sticky lip balm and cherry chapstick to last a lifetime.
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📜 in and out by M0stlyVoid
Rated: Explicit
Words: 2217
Tags: Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Semi-Public Sex, Coming In Pants, Politics, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering
Summary: The exact nature of Harry and Draco's relationship might not be public, but that doesn't mean nothing about it is. You just need to know when to pay attention.
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📜 knickers in a twist by technicolourbeat
Rated: Explicit
Words: 86461
Tags: Hogwarts Eighth Year, Reconciliation, Smut, Crossdressing, Boys in Skirts, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Top Harry Potter, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Semi-Public Sex, Riding, Topping from the Bottom, Draco Malfoy in a Skirt, Rimming, Lace Panties, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Secret Relationship, Fuckbuddies, Shameless Smut, Sexual Roleplay, Fluff and Humor, Porn With Plot
Summary: Draco loses a bet to Pansy and Blaise which leaves him wearing a skirt for a whole week. Harry discovers something about himself.
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📜 To Change the Subject by gracerene
Rated: Explicit
Words: 1252
Tags: Established Relationship, AurorsAuror Partners, Auror Harry, Auror Draco Malfoy, Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Office Sex, Face-Fucking, POV Harry, Post-Hogwarts, HP: EWE
Summary: Harry comes up with a more enjoyable alternative to arguing.
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Part One: New Beginnings
Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader
Word count: 3.4k
Warnings: Infidelity, angst, friends to lovers, mentions of alcohol
Rating: M (might change)
Summary: You’ve lived in a small town for half of your life and nothings really changed until it did. Moving halfway across the country you find lasting friendships and a love you needed at the exactly the right time.
A/N: There is not a ton of Frankie in this one since I wanted to set the tone for the reader before they meet! They don’t see/meet each other until near the end (or do they?) I wanted to build the reader’s relationships with the people in her life as there will more parts.
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It’s hard to build friendships as an adult without being under the pretense of school or college. It’s especially difficult when you decide to move across the country. Away from your family and friends, but it’s what you needed. Seeing the same four walls you lived in, that same greasy diner that was always your go-to after one too many tequila shots the night before, and that one ex from high school that you’d really rather forget while running errands were making you feel complacent. Wake up. Drink. Eat. Work. Sleep. Repeat. You’ve spent most of your life here. You weren’t about to spend the rest of it here. So, you did something completely unlike you. You packed up your life and moved. The house was beautiful. You’d never owned anything in your life; just rented so this is a major upgrade for you. The first sight that greets you is the stairs after living in a first floor unit for most of your life. The house isn’t in perfect shape, but it’s yours which is all that matters.
The movers have left so you finally had the place to yourself. You couldn’t help the defeated sigh that fell from your mouth at the sight of all the boxes. If your sister and friends were here you’d probably be knee deep in pizza and wine while attempting to build furniture. You gave your brain the space to let that thought sink in, but you craved the freedom so you didn’t let that sit too long. You came here to build your own memories; no room for regrets now. So, the first thing you decide to acclimate yourself with is the closest liquor store and that is how you met Hannah.
The first thing you hear after getting lost reading a wine label is a loud oof before slamming into somebody. You only barely managed to catch the bottle before it became one with the outdated tile.
“I am SO sorry! I’m not even going to lie to you I was not watching where I was going. Are you okay? You didn’t drop anything did you?”
You manage to form a sentence between your scrambled apologies in between. The first thing you notice when you look at the face standing in front of you is how pretty she is. That typical blonde hair and blue eyes type that reminds you of the girls you went to high school with. You wince. Stop it.
“Oh, I’m okay! It was more the residual shock of it really. You must really need that bottle because you were just about ready to run me over in your pursuit to the cash register. Cheating ex or bad date?”
She says with a laugh while pointing at the wine still in your hand. Oh, she’s nice. You immediately feel guilty for that initial judgment when first looking at her.
“Oh, neither. I just moved here and need sustenance to unpack. Who knew you could fit your entire life into boxes?” You mirror her laugh.
“I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone. Walk around the neighborhood and find the necessities which is how I ended up here.” You say with a twirl in your finger.
"Ah, the one down the street that's just begging to be demolished?" She says while snapping her fingers with a mischievous smile.
"Hey, don't talk about her like that. She's old, but she's got character." You can't help the lopsided grin you give her. She hasn't even seen the dream kitchen with those beautiful green cabinets.
“Hey, well if you need help with that-“ her eyes shifting to the bottle, “I live right down the street so I can come over. I know moving somewhere unfamiliar can be a little daunting especially if you’re alone.” You can’t help the wide smile forming at her sweet gesture.
“And to help me unpack right?” You raise an eyebrow.
“I mean I’m better at draining a bottle, but if it’s necessary I will work for food and drinks. But, if I’m going to help you we are going to need way more than that.”
She finishes her sentence grabbing more bottles while traveling through the aisles. The sound of you’ve got to try this one and this one’s local in between aisle changes filling the store. You assure her that she is not off the hook with helping even with the promise of the “best merlot you’ve ever had in your life.”
Bags filling both of your hands and way too much alcohol for just two people to consume you make your way up the steps. Hannah pauses and looks up at the house.
“I was right. It should have been demolished. Will the porch cave in before I make it inside?” She says with skepticism at the foundation of your new home.
“Probably eventually but-“ you turn around to face her, “she’ll last for now. Come on, I haven’t even showed you the best part!”
You open your door and make your way inside leaving the door open for her to follow. You faintly hear from the kitchen “I seriously doubt that”, and you can’t help your chuckle at the remark.
You’ve always wanted a fixer upper; probably from all the HGTV shows you immersed yourself in as a child and the fact you’ve only ever lived in apartments. The first and only thing you managed to unpack first was your wine glasses. You definitely made a point to label them in big writing while packing up back home. A decision you are patting yourself on the back for now.
“So, do you like pizza? I know a good place. Pizza and wine should always be paired with move-in days. Oh, you’re right. This is probably the only good part of your house.”
Hannah leaned on the counter next you before shifting to test the weight taking in the scene of your kitchen.
“Love pizza. It’s not there yet, but I definitely have some plans with it; starting with keeping the color of those cabinets.”
In between sips of your glasses of wine you start to collaborate over your ideas of making it functional and aesthetically pleasing.
It didn’t take very long to start building friendships with the people in your area. You even started joining Sunday brunches and you were overly ecstatic finding out that bottomless mimosas existed. They didn’t have these at the diners back home. They even started assisting you with choosing paint swatches and going to Home Depot because you just had try that DIY project of making your own lounge chair that you found scrolling on Youtube.
“I think your measurements are a little off.”
Alex, probably one of your favorites of the group, mirrors the tilt of your head with his arms crossed. He co-owns a woodworking business with his husband so you wanted him there for any adjustments and moral support. Unfortunately for you, he wanted you to learn first which really meant fail.
You grimace at your handiwork and say, “yeah, I think maybe I should stick with what I’m good at.”
With a breathy laugh he adds, “give yourself some credit. You managed to tear up the carpet in the living room AND still able to keep the original hardwood. That’s no easy feat.”
You’ve somehow managed to create a whole support system in the little time that you’ve spent here. You’ve finally had the time and resources to create your own little touches that make your house now a home.
“Hannah, can’t we just stay in tonight? I’ve already been defeated twice by the light fixture in the living and my fingers are still tingling from the faulty power box. I’m really not in the mood.”
You give her the biggest puppy eyes you can manage while exaggeratingly lifting you fingers.
“Oh no, you’re going out to the bar tonight. You’ve been here for months and you really need to get yourself out there. You’re hot. Own it. Besides, it’s just you and me so there’s no pressure.”
She says with a swat to your ass and a push towards your closet. The only response you can add to that is Hmph.
The bar is nice enough with the dim lighting and it’s not so loud that you can’t hear yourself talk. Hannah insisted you wear one of your nicer dresses, but you wanted to feel like yourself so you opted for a t-shirt tucked into light wash jeans. If you were going to meet anyone tonight you wanted to set the standard for anything that could happen at the start. You’re still nursing your second beer while Hannah is on her third shot of the night. You feel a presence to your right and a sharp pinch to your thigh on your left. Hannah is of course attempting to alert you to the attractive man on the other side of you as if you didn’t notice. You turn around with a pained look on your face to her which she just shrugs off before making herself scarce.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Your attention is brought back to the man to your right. He is very cute in a boyish kind of way and you briefly wonder if he’s talking to someone else. He’s dressed like he just got out of a business meeting, but his rolled sleeves are definitely doing something for you.
“Sure. What’s your name?” You say with the flirtiest smile you can muster.
“Joey. Nice to meet you.”
God, his smile must do wonders for his conquests. It’s working for you quite honestly. You completely lose track of time talking to him and see out of the corner of your eye Hannah leaving the bar holding onto a man with salt and pepper hair and scruff. Looks like she got lucky too. She gives you a wink as she walks out the door and you look to see where he was sitting in case you need to remember faces. Seems like he was out with some of his friends, but you didn’t get a thorough look because your attention is immediately brought back to Joey. You set a reminder for yourself to check in with her before you go to bed tonight.
It’s been a constant date after date and you were really beginning to develop feelings for him. Sure, you always tried to convince him you didn’t need to be wooed with all these extravagant dates. You were just happy to spend time with him. You didn’t need to go to a fancy restaurant to tell you that. It just wasn’t your style, but it made him happy so you went along with it. You had initially assumed him to be a one night stand, but you were pleasantly surprised to hear from him the next day asking to take you out dinner.
Your muscles in your stomach are straining from how hard you’re laughing at America’s Funniest Home Videos on the TV. Joey is sitting next to you on the couch with takeout cartons loitered all over your coffee table. The living room is starting to lose its natural lighting due to the day coming to a close; the only light source in the room being the lamp sitting on the end table next to the couch and the glow from the TV. You notice Joey looking at you with a far off look.
“What’s wrong?” You ask with a furrow in your brow. “Nothing.” His face shifting to a more pleasant tone once he turns back to the TV. The two of you had settled into a routine at your house. You had even introduced him to your friends and they really seemed to enjoy spending time with him. It was easy for them to fall for his charms as you did.
“Come on, hurry up. You’re supposed to be helping me pick out an outfit for tonight!”
Hannah still continued to see the man from the bar, Santi, his friends called him.
“If I’m supposed to be helping you pick an outfit then why are we in the lingerie section?” You ask with a sly grin on your face.
“That’s for after, of course. Gotta keep it interesting.”
Her laugh followed by her adding some bras and panties to her hands. You agreed to come with her tonight to officially meet him and his friends. You’ve heard enough about him from her. Some very intimate details as well. They weren’t exactly exclusive to each other and as far as you knew they were dating other people which you respected. You were nervous about meeting them, but you knew it was only a matter of time until Hannah would want to do this. You trusted her judgment and you were already comfortable that it was going to be in the bar you usually ventured out to.
In her words, “your only forms of entertainment can’t just be your home projects, Joey and me, you know? You deserve to have fun too and these guys will show you a good time I promise” while ringing up her purchases.
You barely manage to make it through the door of the bar before you feel a breeze next to you from her speeding to Santi with a kiss. You lovingly shake your head at her dramatic antics and make your way over to the table. It’s a little awkward at first since Hannah still had yet to let go of the man sitting next to her and you didn’t know how to start a conversation with these men with what was going on next to you.
“Sorry. I’m Santi, but everyone calls me Pope.”
He reaches over to shake your hand with a tone that is definitely not apologetic at all, but you find it amusing. You like him already. You can definitely see why Hannah was interested, but not your type.
He starts introducing his friends off to you. Will. He seems like the more mellow type of the group and his call sign is Ironhead. Benny is just Benny since he’s the baby of the group.
“He’s the menace of all of us so watch out for this one.” Will ruffles his brother’s hair for added measure which Benny recoils from.
Then, Frankie, they call him Catfish. Oh he’s handsome, but not in the boyish way that Joey is. He’s handsome in a more ruggish kind of way and you can’t seem to break eye contact from him. Your eyes don’t know where to go first so they travel from his deep brown eyes, to the bare patches on the beard he can’t seem to grow that you find yourself wanting to kiss, and to the curls peeking out of his standard heating oil hat. You find yourself itching to take that hat off and run your fingers through the nape of his hair. Stop. He’s the more reserved one in the group which makes sense since he really hasn’t fully spoken more than a few words at a time to you. You can’t control the side glances you keep shooting at him throughout the night. You’re just appreciating the view and maybe conjuring up a few very much domestic fantasies in your head. Liar.
You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom to get a grip on your emotions. Tilting your head at your reflection you point an accusing finger “get yourself together. You ca—.“ You jump at the intrusion of an elderly woman walking into the otherwise empty bathroom; a quizzical look forming on her face from your actions. Your nervous laugh gets the best of you. “It isn’t what it- I don’t always do this.” You’re not sure why you feel the need to explain yourself since she’s already closed the stall before you even got the chance to finish your sentence. You find yourself even more flustered leaving the bathroom than before going into it. This is going to be a long night.
***
Frankie was nervous when Santi first told him that Hannah would be bringing a friend. He remembers you from the night Santi first left with her. How could he forget? You had his attention the moment you stepped into the bar, but by the time he finally worked up the nerve to talk to you another guy had already swooped in. It wasn’t that surprising considering and it was probably for the best. He really wasn’t in any headspace to be in a relationship. His eyes followed you when you left to go to the bathroom in a hurry and he could just feel Santi’s eyes burning into him. He knew. You were exactly his type and he hoped to whoever was up above that he would just leave him to his hopeless crush without interfering.
***
You sit down at the table preparing to come up with some segway into the conversation between everyone when Santi breaks it with a loud clap calling your name out. “So, are you seeing anyone?”
You miss the glare that Frankie shoots him and the embarrassed groan he makes. You don’t miss the warning tone Will gives when calling Santi’s name out, but you get the feeling you’re not entitled to know what that’s about.
“Yes, I am.” Why does it feel so wrong to say that? “His name is Joey.” Hannah chimes in while rubbing Santi’s shoulders.
You also miss the sight of Frankie’s shoulders deflating at that piece of information. Your answer seems to satisfy Santi since he drops it after that and moves on to a different topic. “Benny, when’s your next fight?” It’s Friday apparently and all the guys along with Hannah are going to support him.
Will shifts towards you and says, “you can come if you want.” You cringe on the inside; your insecurities getting the best of you. If you want. They’re only inviting you because you’re there at the moment. “Maybe.” You won’t.
Somehow, Hannah has convinced you to go out with them a second time. “Come on, you can bring Joey since you’re so nervous! Please bring him,” she says with pleading eyes.
“I’m not nervous!” Liar. There is a sliver of truth to her statement, but you don’t want to tell her the reason for your nerves is seeing Frankie again. Yet here you were sitting in a booth with Joey across from Hannah and the rest of the guys.
“Jesus Hannah, he’s not going anywhere.”
You say with a loud laugh at her not so subtle PDA with Santi. “Sorry.” She said with a swipe of trying to remove her lipstick from Santi’s face; her smile never leaving her face. Frankie hasn’t looked at you at all tonight and you can’t help but wonder what you did wrong. You see those eyes crinkle and that cute dimple when he’s dedicating his attention to everyone else at the table, but disappears when his eyes go in your general direction.
At some point the guys and Hannah walk off to buy more drinks leaving you with Joey. He’s hasn’t hid his disinterest of the night at all even when the guys were trying to include him.
“Why are you so grumpy?” “I’m not.” His deep sigh a dead giveaway to his sour mood. “I’m just not vibing with them that’s all.” His eyes following the guys by single file line as he said it. You assure him that you can leave soon which after an hour or so you do.
Tonight’s events must have tired you out more than you thought because you’re fighting yawns the entire ride to Joey’s apartment. You don’t usually spend time here since he prefers staying at your place, but his place was a lot closer to the bar. The minute you walk inside you walk straight to his bedroom so you can promptly pass out as Joey showers. As you start to pull back the blankets something catches your eye. That’s not mine. Your heart rate is starting to speed up at the thought that’s forming in your mind. You reach down and grab a bra that was haphazardly thrown on the floor. The thing is you’d recognize that bra anywhere because you were there when she bought it; the day you were meeting Santi for the first time. You almost didn’t hear the water being shut off in the bathroom and the footsteps coming into the bedroom.
“Hey, what’s goin o—“
His eyes follow where you’re looking and then back up to your face. He’s not even trying to defend himself or come up with some shitty excuse that wouldn’t work anyway.
“How long?” Your voice is barely managing to stay steady while still staring at the incriminating evidence of your betrayal.
“How long, Joey?” His hesitation gives you your answer. It’s been a while.
#frankie morales#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x you#triple frontier#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfic#francisco catfish morales#triple frontier fanfiction#triple frontier fanfic#francisco morales x reader#francisco morales x you#francisco morales#javierpinme fanfic#javierpinme fanfiction#frankie morales x f!reader#francisco morales x f!reader#new beginnings#new beginnings fanfic
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ship: prinxiety, background intrulogical
genre: fluff
warnings: swearing, like one sexual innuendo, very breif mention of murder (as a joke, this is fluff after all)
summary: Radio AU where Virgil runs the 11-1 am radio on his college and every night someone calls to complain about his music selections and request disney, and Virgil never plays disney.
Virgil sat in his swivel chair and put on the headphones “sup bitches I’m back and this time with like three monsters because finals are a bitch and sleep can suck my dick. The first song of the night is Lotta True Crime by Peneople Scott. Why? Because I say it is that’s why.” Virgil put the song on and worked on his final project as the songs played.
The phone rang and Virgil groaned and checked the number. This dick again. He picked up and put it on air since people seemed to love listening to him and disney guy argue.
“listen asshole if you want to listen to Disney so fucking badly then apply for a spot and stop calling me.”
there’s a laugh “how about you just play some disney then? if you do I’ll stop calling. Because your music taste sucks.”
Virgil rolls his eyes “bitch apply for an opening and have a disney hour. And let me listen to my music, because not everyone loves fucking disney.”
“Well many people do so why not play one song.”
Virgil snorts “first no, and second if I had to I’d make everyone regret it and play let it go.”
“Let it go is great!”
“bye bye Princey, stop calling”
Virgil hung up “and since Princey called you know what we’re playing? MCR because I know he hates it. So this one’s for you princey, up next after this ad because this place needs money. By the way if you’re not a broke bitch donate because this job is like kinda decent and I like making you all listen to the music I like. Blood by MCR is up next” Virgil played the ad and leaned back in his chair.
“Why do you take his calls if you know he’ll just be annoying?” Janus asks in class.
Virgil shrugs “since it started I get more listeners which is good for the station.”
“I think it’s funny, cause you two have cute pet names for each other, princey and emo nightmare” Remus says.
Virgil elbows him “they’re not pet names.”
“they are,” Janus says, moving so Virgil couldn’t elbow him.
Roman waits to dial the number, he had to admit he sort of enjoyed his and emo nightmare’s conversations, who refused to reveal his name or grade.
At first they’d been annoying and he’d genuinely complained about all the emo music and asking to play disney but it’d soon become a nightly ritual, that had very quickly ruined Roman’s sleep schedule.
He dialed the number “seriously, why all the emo music, emo nightmare?”
“you just answered your own question princey, why the obsession with disney songs princey? See? Sounds fucking stupid.”
Roman sighs dramatically “you wound me emo nightmare. But seriously what’ll it take to get you to play ONE disney song?”
“a hundred grand, that’s how much the station needs to keep running, do that and I’ll play ONE disney song.”
“four.”
“Three songs and a hundred and fifty grand, fifty grand per song. final offer. and I get to pick the songs.’
Roman nods “deal,”
“oh and, you have until the end of finals to get the money donated, and I’ll make the gofundme, not you.”
That’s like a month and a half away Roman thinks I’ll have enough time. “sure thing emo nightmare.”
Roman’s emo hung up. He smiles like an idiot.
“Why not ask him out? it’s clear you’re fond of him” Roman’s roommate Logan says from his side of the room.
“ask out a guy I don’t even know the name of? yeah sure” Roman snorts.
“what? Scared you’ll be rejected? I cannot believe I’m saying this, but Roman I am getting more dick then you have been ever since you started talking to your radio boy.” Logan says in an even tone.
Roman pretends to gag “you don’t need to tell me how much you and my brother have done it Logan, you two being together is enough for me to want to bleach my eyes.”
“you’re no better whenever you’re going out with someone, or even hooked up with a slightly above average guy.”
Remus barged in “Loooo I need help studying.”
Roman stood up “that’s my queue to leave.”
Remus watches Roman go “so what where you two talking about?”
“oh you know, he’s still calling the campus radio station to ask for disney songs” Logan says.
“Wait, Roman is Princey?” Remus asks, he starts laughing
“Yes? You didn’t know?”
Remus cackles “no! oh this is great! My best friend Virgil does the 11 to 1 radio, he’s Emo Nightmare and Roman is his Princey”
“We could set them up, Roam is so lovesick, I swear he’s head over heels for him and he hasn’t even met Virgil” Logan says.
Remus gasps “this is why I love you! Of course we’re going to set them up.”
Logan and Remus came up with a plan, they’d invite Roman and Virgil to a study session and then never showed up, leaving Virgil and Roman to wait.
Virgil puts on his headphones and starts loudly playing panic at the disco and reading over his shitty notes.
Someone taps him on the shoulder “hey can you turn the emo shit down, I’m trying to study and it’s really loud.”
Virgil turns it down a bit “that good?”
he nods “yeah, where you also ghosted for a study session?”
“Yeah I was, my best friend and his nerdy boyfriend where supposed to help me study, they probably forgot all about me.” Virgil says.
“Logan And Remus? Remus is my brother and Logan’s my roommate” Roman says.
“Yeah, well since we’re both here we could study together if you want” please say no please say no.
“Sounds good!” Roman says.
Fuck.
Virgil and Roman studied for awhile and Virgil very slowly started warming up to Roman. “ah shit I have to go, see you round I guess” Virgil says packing up his stuff, he wanted to have some alone time before his shift.
“ok Bye Virgil,” Roman says packing up, he had to go do his own thing, which would probably end up becoming a quick nap before his emo nightmare started his turn being the radio host.
Virgil sat in the chair “what up bitches, so far the goal has 10k, so no disney tonight, or ever because this is on a time crunch and 150k is a fuck ton of money for broke college students. And now onto Fuck you by Lily Allen. Why? Because she’s underrated and because I said so.” Virgil played the song.
Virgil got the call around 12:30 “you’re calling later then usual princey, and no, no disney tonight.”
“Oh I was just about to ask. And also I was asking how to find the gofundme.”
“It’s on the UCLA radio website, can’t miss it. Now let me do my fucking job” Virgil hung up and played MCR as was tradition.
What he didn’t know was Roman recorded the phone call and posted it everywhere he could anonymously and waited.
Virgil checked the go fund me in the morning “it has fifty k already?! What the fuck? Princey what did you do?”
Virgil waited for the nightly call “Hey what the fuck how is the goal at sixty k? How the fuck princey?”
He laughed “I asked the internet for help, I think most of it’s from tiktok, you’re going to have to play disney emo nightmare”
“fuck you princey and your stupid obsession with disney.”
“you have an obsession with my chemical romance and Brendon Urie”
“name three other artists I play on here then bitch.”
“Mother Mother, Lily Allen and as of late Derivakat” Roman says without hesitation.
Virgil was speechless for a second, then hung up. “fucking bitch, you guys know what time it is” he played Teenagers.
A week and a half passed and the funds had slowly been going up, and Virgil and Roman’s calls continued nightly as usual.
Virgil and Roman met up a few times to study for finals, sometimes with Remus and Logan, sometimes without.
the goal just barely missed the end of finals. Virgil smirked “No disney today, or ever because you people missed the goal byyyyy” Virgil checked the go fund me “three thousand dollars. I’d say better luck next time but there won’t be a next time.” he chuckled. The phone rang and Virgil picked up, knowing it was Princey.
“oooh too late princey no disney songs during my shift.”
“you might want to check the gofundme one last time my dear emo nightmare.”
Virgil refreshes the page “first of all, I’m not yours bitch second- what the fuck, how?” the goal had been met.
Roman laughs “play the disney emo. Play. The fucking. Disney.”
Virgil could tell he was gonna gloat so he hung up.
Virgil grumbles and gets the disney queued “ok fine the goal was met, so time for my suffering, I have queued Fixer Upper from Frozen because it’s a shitty song with a shitty message. Make a man out of you because I like Mulan and for everyone’s inconvenience I have How Far I’ll Go so have fun with that stuck in your head.”
Roman was a bit insulted when Emo nightmare hung up on him, so he called him back once the songs had ended “wasn’t so hard was it?”
“for you maybe, it was for me,” Virgil hung up and blocked the number.
Over the Summer both Virgil and Roman found themselves missing their talks. Roman so much so he applied for one of the newly opened spots for the next semester from 2-5 pm.
Virgil drove onto campus at 4, putting on campus radio and was met with disney. the song ended and the new host spoke “and I hope everyone liked that, up now is a short commercial break.”
Virgil nearly swerved off the road and pulled over and called the station.
Roman picked up. “Hey what the actual FUCK?” Virgil says as soon as he does.
Roman laughs “oh how the tables have turned Emo Nightmare”
“I hate you, I fucking hate you what the actual fuck princey”
he laughed more “You yourself said that working here is nice, and there was an opening, so I took it. You should be happy, I mean now I won’t brother you about playing disney.”
Virgil frowned “yeah yeah, whatever princey have fun with that.”
“oh I will emo nightmare, I absolutely will.” Roman hung up feeling happy in a way he hadn’t felt all summer.
Virgil unpacked his stuff in his new dorm, he was a little pissed but also excited. Maybe he and princey would finally meet face to face. Why am I excited about that? I hate him, at the least he annoyed me every day for months, but he did raise a bunch of money. Even if his disney obessed ass is super annoying.
Roman walked in at 6 “hey Virgil, I’m guessing you’re going to be my roommate?”
Virgil looked up from his laptop “I guess, don’t take my monsters from the fridge and we’ll be golden, or blast disney 24/7″
Roman chuckled “what do you have against disney?”
“Micky Mouse killed my parents in front of me after I said that Merida was my favorite princess.” Virgil said dryly.
Roman chuckled “that’s why I dedicated my life to the mouse.”
“That’s why I swore to get my revenge on the mouse.”
“I won’t blast disney 24/7 but you can’t blast your emo music.” Roman says
Virgil snorted “dude I have the worst anxiety I don’t even own a speaker. so you don’t blast your music, I won’t blast mine and we’ll be fine.”
“Deal,”
Roman called that night like always and Virgil was ready “aww Princey, did you miss me that much?”
“not really, but I’m still trying to get you to willingly play a disney song.”
Virgil rolled his eyes “you know what, it’s a new year, time for a new leaf, I’ll humor you princey and play a disney song.”
“wait really?”
Virgil queued up Mad At Disney “no.” he hung up and the song started.
Virgil and Roman went back to their usual routine of lowkey flirting with each other during Virgil’s shift, and sometimes during Roman’s.
They where getting along well as roomates but hadn’t figured out that they where each other’s Princey and emo nightmare.
Somehow he and Princey had gotten into an argument about if Cruella would be a good or bad movie. Roman had hope it would be, Virgil wasn’t so convinced.
“Princey, she is a completely evil character, she can’t be redeemable, she shouldn’t be. She wanted to make puppies into a coat, that’s fucked up. There’s no black and white she’s bad and that’s that.”
“Maybe if you gave the movie a chance!”
“fuck no! did you not hear what I just fucking said?”
“then how about we see it then we can see who’s right?”
“fine, I’m free at three this Satuday.” Virgil said, way too caught up in the moment.
“same, see you then emo nightmare, I’ll be by the doors waiting.”
“fine, but I’m going to be right.”
“then it’s a date!”
“I guess it is!” Virgil hung up.
he didn’t realize he’d said yes to going out on a date with a guy he didn’t even know until the next day.
The whole campus was freaking out about it since the station had blown up quite a bit because of Virgil and Roman’s nightly arguments.
Roman left early, he’d dressed up a bit, and had a disney shirt with a little crown logo on it, it wasn’t that obvious but he figured it’d be telling enough.
Virgil put on a bit more eyeliner then usual and fishnets under his ripped jeans but that was about it, he chose to be petty and waited until about 3:20 to go to the doors where Roman wait waiting.
Virgil walked passed him at first. Roman saw him “emo nightmare?”
Virgil stopped “are you fucking kidding me?” he got a few glares from parents. “You’re princey? my fucking roommate?”
“I did not plan that, but yeah I am, and you’re my emo nightmare.”
Virgil rolled his eyes “still not yours princey, come on the movies about to start.”
They exited the movie and Virgil grinned “I fucking told you it’d be bad, I told you!”
“yeah yeah, you did it was bad. Want to get some coffee?”
“sure, I’ll pay,” Virgil said casually.
Roman grinned “I’ll win you over one day my emo nightmare.”
“stop begging me to play disney music and maybe you will.”
#roman sanders#virgil sanders#sanders sides#thomas sanders#sander sides#prinxiety#roman x virgil#roman sanders x virgil sanders
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For the Hournite prompts, maybe 75. "You're overworking yourself. Please take a break." That definitely seems like something one of them would say 💙
"You're overworking yourself... Please take a break."
Often people who loved her said things just to make her feel better. She got it, sometimes. They mistook her general naivety as her doing the same. When she was saying things that were sweet and unrealistic, she still meant them. Even when they were very black and white. Like when she told Rick, "Even if we had to live in your car, I'd still choose you," whenever he was at risk to lose the farm because of some discrepancies with the false documents versus his changes to paperwork.
Fortunately, that didn't happen, but if it had come to it, Beth would have been living in Rick's car with him until they found something else. People didn't always pay her that same optimistic honesty.
Not even her parents believed themselves when they said, "We'll still be friends!" They hadn't talked to each other in MONTHS, she discovered today, and over the past few years, the only times they had talked had been directly related to Beth.
THIS would be their first time even being in the same room in a year! The last time was at the hospital, when she had the baby.
Now, they were turning one, and just starting to walk, toppling down to follow Rick around, crawling when he wasn't actively slow enough for them to keep up.
The gang would stop on tomorrow, as Beth's parents were going to be here today and it just seemed like maybe all of them at once would be too stressful, especially considering that Rick had yet to feel that he'd made all of the necessary preparations for his in laws, who.. were the ONLY grandparents that Bellamy Reece would have!
Beth watched him pick the baby up, trot through the house to do some task, put them down and repeat this a few times before she collected the baby herself and stepped in. "You're overworking yourself. Please, take a break." She jiggled the baby and danced as she chimed to them, "Daddy's carting Mommy's baby around like a baton! That's no baton! That's Mommy's baby!"
Rick laughed at himself and took a deep breath. He leaned against Beth and rested his chin on her head. "Your dad had a LOT of suggestions for our "fixer upper" house last time and your mom...this is her first time coming. They have to see that I'm capable of being who I need to be for you."
"Rick. Listen. All you have to be is who you are. I married you, they didn't. If they have things to say about this BEAUTIFUL house that you've bought, and do all of the work yourself, I suppose I could remind my dad that he hasn't touched a tool since I was 13. If my mom was that concerned, this wouldn't BE her first time visiting… and that's if they don't cancel. They've been flaky since before the divorce, and if they're not here, I'm still going to be with the most important people in my life…"
And she meant that. Rick leaned to kiss her, with the baby frowning, pushing his face back from their Mommy's and the doorbell rang. Beth gasped and ran to the door, holding the baby as she did.
"Oh, the baby's not a baton, but they can be a football?" Rick teased.
"Hey!" Beth said with a fake glare pointed his way. He smiled. Her angry face was adorable, especially because she didn't know how to fake it. When she opened the door, there were her parents, together, in matching shirts with "I'm Their Grandma/Grandpa" and bags of presents. So, even though they hadn't been completely honest about remaining friends, they had made good on their promise to be here for her during milestones.
Rick approached to help with the bags, but Bridget waved him off and set them right inside the door. "They're 1. The gifts at this point are mostly for your benefits. Come here," she gave him a hug and until that moment, Rick didn't even realize he was still tense.
"She's saying that to you, but she made me grab everything out of her trunk," James said, with a wink in Beth's direction as he too reached for a hug from Rick. "Now.. let us at our grandbaby."
Beth handed them over to her mom and Rick pulled her into his side to kiss her on the temple.
"This is some fine work, Rick," James said, fussing over the baby.
"Thank you, Sir!" Rick said at the same time that Beth said, "I did most of it."
Rick whispered, "Well they knew your contributions would be perfect! Let me have this."
She giggled. "You definitely did some fine work helping me make them.."
"Beth!" He hissed, blushing, but her parents were way too in love at the moment to pay them any attention. Rick squeezed her hip and said, "I think I'll take that break now."
#beth chapel#rick tyler#stargirl fanfiction#stargirl cw#hournite fics#hournite prompts#hournite#prompts#nesha prompts#nesha hournite fics#granolabird#My apologies for these. Read More does not work on my phone with any of the so-called fixes for it from a phone#So.#You're Overworking Yourself... Please Take a Break
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Hey, @atomicdetectivehideout I’m happy to be your @destielsecretsanta2020
Merry Christmas! Please, accept my humble gift for the holiday. It’s a 3k of fluff and stuff (well, when I say fluff, I mean, I really tried!). I sincerely hope you enjoy it.
Thank you to the most awesomest people to ever awesome @campchitaquamemories and @amyoatmeal for offering to beta this little thing. You guys rock!
Here it is on ao3 if you prefer
Those Things That Couples Do
Come to think of it, it wasn’t such a lame idea. Not lame at all, Dean thought, to the extent he might even have to thank Sam later. Well, maybe not outright thank him, but definitely bake a cherry pie for Eileen (her favorite; the woman sure knew how to enjoy life). It felt nice, lying on the bed with Cas in the semi-darkness, Christmas lights on the dresser and a couple of the apple cider and cinnamon scented candles Cas liked so much (and Dean grumbled about but secretly enjoyed too) being the only source of light. It felt cozy. Safe. They talked in hushed voices so as not to disturb the quiet magic of the bubble they had created in that moment, and dammit, but Dean was grateful to his brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law for this particular chick-flick.
“So, you sure you want this to go on your list as the first item?” Dean nudged Cas gently with an elbow. “Sick of my cooking already? I’m hurt, man,” he added, only half-jokingly.
The idea Eileen pitched to them was to write down three items each to reflect their hopes and plans for the upcoming year. At first, Dean laughed when Sam handed him a blue envelope with four blank craft paper cards to be written on. He had been about to suggest Sam find someone more age-appropriate to participate in that particular brand of cute (Dean could almost see the faces Claire and Kaia would make at the suggestion), but Cas’s quiet ‘It’s a lovely idea’ made him silently accept the package at the last second. This provided Sam with the pleasure of witnessing his older brother biting his tongue and smiling reassuringly at Cas who’d been busy searching Dean’s face for a reaction.
Per the rules Sam had explained to them, they were supposed to write down their plans (which they were encouraged to discuss, because that’s apparently what couples do) and complete a bonus task – individually, this time – describing where they see themselves next year at Christmas. Then, they were to seal their envelope and give it to Sam and Eileen for safekeeping, accepting theirs in exchange. That way next year there would be an additional reason to spend Christmas together and see which things have come to pass.
“Stop fishing for a compliment. You know your cooking is delicious.” Cas turned to look at Dean. “I want to be able to do nice things for you, Dean. Like you do for me. Cooking for people you care about is how you show affection and those small, but meaningful gestures go a long way. I’d love to be able to surprise you with a breakfast pie in bed, or make soup for when you catch a cold, or-“ Dean interrupted him with a chaste and gentle kiss on the lips. “You had me at the breakfast pie, Cas. Cooking and baking: 101 it is.” Cas smiled, reached for Dean’s hand, and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Laying back on the pillow, he rested Dean’s hand on his belly, gently stroking the fingers. Dean closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.
“What will you put as your first item?” Cas asked a moment later.
“That’s easy,” Dean murmured into Cas’s shoulder. “Beach vacay. Never had the time for that before. What do you think about some sand between our toes? Maybe even skinny-dipping with enough margaritas?”
“You do look extremely hot in those aviators of yours,” Cas replied in a thoughtful voice, as if mulling it over. “And skinny-dipping does sound promising. A beach vacation certainly belongs on that list.”
“Cas, if you want me naked and in sunglasses, that can be arranged anytime, anywhere.”
“I want you in those cut-off shorts of yours, and then I want you out of them,” Cas continued in a low voice, and Dean felt the hairs on his arm stand up under Castiel’s fingertips. “I want to explore your sun-kissed skin and count the freckles on your back. I want you to enjoy yourself in all the ways that appeal to you, so yes. You’re writing that down. I’m taking you to the beach.”
“Just like that?” Dean asked, teasingly. “Pretty goal-oriented, aren’t you?”
Cas glared at him; Christmas lights caught in his dark blue eyes. “I was a Seraph, Dean. Goal-oriented was in the job description.”
“Bossy,” Dean suggestively wiggled his eyebrows.
“You like that.”
��Touché.”
Cas turned on his side, facing Dean. They were lying so close now they breathed the same air, noses just shy of touching. Dean took Cas’s hand and laced their fingers, nudging a knee between Cas’s thighs. “What else is on your list?” Dean asked.
Cas didn’t answer right away, and Dean closed his eyes to bask in the warmth of their bodies.
“There’s a small plot of land behind the bunker,” Cas began, “I was wondering whether it’s okay with you and Sam if I make a garden there?” He sounded uncertain, for some unknown reason, and Dean frowned at that. “It wouldn’t be anything fancy, just some flowerbeds with sunflowers or maybe lavender-“
“Cas,” Dean interjected, still frowning, “why would you even ask? You don’t need anyone’s permission to do what you want to do, come on. The bunker belongs to you just as much it does to me or Sammy or Eileen or the rest of our extended family.” He propped himself up on one elbow and gently freed his hand from Castiel’s hold to cup his cheek. “If you want a garden, I’ll help you make one. Or just as happily will mind my own business if it’s something you want to do on your own. Okay?”
“Thank you, Dean,” Cas whispered, earnestly. And it wasn’t about the garden, really. It was about being reassured he belonged, was wanted. Accepted.
“You should definitely add the garden to your list, Cas. And, while we’re on the topic, there was actually something I wanted to ask you about.” Dean cleared his throat, his heart rate quickened. He’d been thinking about this for quite a while, but never seemed to find the right moment to broach the topic. Frankly, he’d never felt brave enough to do so. Why mess up a good thing? But the idea lived in his head rent free, and there was no lying to himself, no tricking his mind out of it. “What would you say about a real garden, though? With an apple tree, some benches, maybe even a gazebo? Where you can plant all kinds of flowers to appease those honeybees of yours?”
“That- That sounds lovely, Dean,” Cas replied, obviously a little bit at a loss. “What do you have in mind?”
Dean was grateful it was dark in the room because he could feel himself blushing, chest burning as if someone had put a hot iron on it. He took a deep breath that didn’t do much to lessen the anxiety.
“Remember, back in Sioux Falls, Bobby’s old property?” Dean paused, waiting for Castiel to nod in agreement. “So, it’s all still there. It’s a pretty big plot of land, and the house burned down, obviously, but I was thinking,” the words kept jumping one in front of the other, and Dean felt the blush deepen, desperately hoping Cas would understand what he was trying to say. “I ain’t that bad at rebuilding things, and, of course, it’s gonna be quite a lot of work, but who doesn’t like a fixer-upper, right? There’s the salvage yard, too, we can do something with that. I’m sure Bobby wouldn’t mind, and there shouldn’t be any problems with the documents, given who’s the sheriff in town. And that way you and I get to be closer to Claire, and Donna, the whole gang-“
“You and I?” Cas asked quietly, and Dean took a deep breath, grateful for the interjection.
“You and I. And some bees, apparently,” Dean gave Cas a weak smile, searching his eyes.
Green met blue, and for the better part of a minute (eternity, really) Cas just kept looking at him silently. Dean’s heart was hammering in his chest so loudly, he wondered if maybe he just couldn’t hear Cas’s answer because of the pounding in his ears. But Castiel’s lips didn’t move, and Dean felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he needed to get out before he went into a full-blown panic attack. It was too much. Why would Cas want to leave the bunker? It was way safer there. There were other people, hunters, coming and going, Sam and Eileen lived barely an hour away, why would he even consider moving in with Dean, let alone-
Suddenly, Cas was on Dean, left hand on Dean’s pillow for support, right hand cupping Dean’s face. Cas pressed kisses everywhere, holding on to Dean like it was the last thing on Earth worth doing. Cas moved his hand into Dean’s hair, gripping tight, and Dean moaned, capturing Cas’s mouth with his own, deepening the kiss. Dean’s anxiety turned into exhilaration, because that was very clearly a yes, and somewhere at the back of his mind he wondered if maybe he’d just suffered a mild heart attack. In mere seconds, though, his body went pliant under Cas’s weight, the kiss grew even more urgent and heated. Dean’s brain short-circuited, the only thing that registered was the press of Cas’s groin to his own, the sounds Cas was making, the texture of his tongue, the softness of his palms, his smell, his taste, the overwhelming need to be closer, to become one, to forget there ever was an outside world at all. But as Dean slipped his hands under Cas’s T-shirt, Cas groaned and broke the kiss, panting. He pressed his forehead to Dean’s, eyes closed and breathing heavy.
“I believe we’ve gotten carried away,” Cas said, hoarsely. “We still have to finish the lists before Sam leaves for Eileen’s.”
“Screw Sam,” Dean rasped, “I don’t care, just take off your clothes and keep kissing me senseless.”
Cas growled and bit his lip to keep himself from grinding.
“There will be no screwing Sam,” he said in a low voice. “We finish the lists, give Sam the envelope, bid him goodnight,” Cas took a deep breath, his body looming over Dean. “And then we pick up right where we left off.”
“Fuck, Cas,” Dean whined.
“Patience, Dean,” Cas pressed a kiss behind his ear, where he knew Dean was especially sensitive. “All in due time.”
With that, Castiel got up, went to click his bedside lamp on, fluffed his pillow, propped it against the headboard, and took the writing supplies from the nightstand. When he got back on the bed, he made sure to leave a few inches of space between them.
Dean groaned. “Fuck my life,” he muttered, but took a couple of deep breaths, willing his heart rate to friggin’ slow down already. He sat up and reached to switch on the lamp on his side of the bed. He watched Cas for a moment before clarifying, “Yes to the house, though?”
Cas looked at him, pen pausing in the middle of a sentence. “I love you, Dean. Yes to the house.”
Dean grinned. “So, two down, one to go. Item number three for 2021?”
Castiel chewed on the cap, thoughtfully. “This one is less specific, but I’d like to try things I haven’t tried before. Unusual food, new experiences, all kinds of activities – with you.”
“Cas, I swear, if you hadn’t stopped just now, I’d have given you a thing or two to cross out from that bucket list,” Dean smiled, cockily.
Cas grinned. “I should think so.”
“Just say the word,” Dean winked, “and we can go baptize the library.”
“Noted. Let’s just not traumatize your brother any further.”
“He’ll live.”
Cas sighed, a mix of fondness and exasperation. “We’ll get back to this conversation as soon as we’re finished with the task at hand. What’s your item number three for the list?”
“Well,” Dean sat up straighter to get himself into business mode, “I’d love to spend more time with family. Get to know them better, maybe set up some family traditions? I don’t know if everyone will appreciate the idea, but it would be kinda awesome.” He glanced at the framed photos proudly sitting on his shelf.
“I think it’s a wonderful thing to put on your list,” Castiel reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “and I don’t have a shadow of a doubt, everyone will be thrilled.”
“They’d better be. Otherwise, they’ll be missing out on the greatest feasts humanity’s ever known.”
“Yes,” Cas agreed easily, “among other things.”
Dean smiled and reached for his own supplies.
For the next five minutes the only sound that filled the room was rustling of paper. Having finished writing, Dean clicked his pen off. “So, what’s with the bonus task? The one where we describe where we see ourselves this time next year?”
Cas bent the card he was writing on in half and slid it into the envelope. “We’re not supposed to discuss it, but, seeing that we will be exchanging our predictions next year, I figure we just address it to each other?”
“Let’s do that,” Dean nodded. “So, no consulting, huh?”
Castiel hummed. “If we were to respect the rules. You know, though, my prediction doesn’t make much of a secret,” he shrugged, smiling. “This time next year, and all the years to come, I see myself watching a Christmas movie with you. I can’t keep up with the plot, really, because mostly I’m watching you watching the movie, watching you smile, listening to you laugh. And I am overwhelmed by how grateful I am for everything that has led me there, in that moment. I’m happy. I’m with you.”
Dean’s throat felt tight and his eyes started prickling with tears somewhere between ‘all the years to come’ and ‘watching you watching the movie’. Cas was looking at him with such adoration, reverence even, blue eyes glistening, pen and paper forgotten.
“Yeah,” Dean said, wrapping Cas in a bear hug. “Yeah.” He hid his face in the crook of Castiel’s neck and felt an awkward kiss being pressed to the side of his head. “You’re such a sap, man,” he breathed a somewhat wet laugh. “You’re such a sap, and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. I hope you know that.”
“I know,” Cas mumbled, “I know.”
“You should still put all of that in writing. You know, for posterity.”
“I will. Will you write yours?”
Dean withdrew a little to give Cas a kiss on the cheek. “I will. But I’m gonna need you to bear with me, ‘cause for once in my life I would actually like to stick to the rules.” He caught Cas’s eyes, “Is that okay with you?” he asked, with a hint of a mischievous smile.
“Of course, Dean.”
“Good. Good.” Dean grinned. “And Cas? I love you, too.”
***
Eileen was supposed to pick him up in about an hour, so Sam sat at his desk browsing true crime documentaries on Netflix when Dean burst in his room without knocking.
“Would you appreciate it if I barged into your room like that?” Sam asked flatly, not looking up from the screen.
“We both know that’s an empty threat,” Dean replied without missing a beat. “Not with those delicate sensibilities of yours.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Sam bristled, “You guys were doing it against the kitchen sink! A man should expect the kitchen to be a safe space!”
“Yes, yes,” Dean nodded vigorously, “he should. But it’s still ill-advised.”
Sam closed the lid of his laptop with a click . “Please, tell me you’ve got the envelope and I can go see my girl and bring home the victory of getting you and Cas to participate?”
“Sure thing, Sammy,” Dean dropped the envelope in question on the desk. “Take good care of that for us,” he winked at his brother mischievously. “Cas has already stashed yours in some dusty old book. And hey,” he added in a more serious voice, “tell Eileen thank you?”
“Wait, really?” Sam started, but Dean was already out in the hall.
“Can’t talk, gotta run, Cas says he wants to try new things, and believe me, Sammy, I am gonna deliver!”
“TMI, jerk!” Sam yelled after him, leaning his chair back on two legs to try and catch sight of his older brother.
“Drive safe, bitch!” Dean yelled back from down the hall.
Sam sighed and picked up the blue envelope titled Dean & Cas: 2021 Edition in Castiel’s neat handwriting. The envelope wasn’t sealed properly, and as soon as Sam turned it over in his hands the contents slipped out onto the desk.
“You’re so whipped, Dean,” Sam muttered under his breath picking up the papers. One of the cards fell onto the floor, and as Sam leaned to pick it up, he recognized Dean’s handwriting. Not his finest hour, he would figure later, but the eyes started skimming the text before the brain could actually approve the action.
Hey, Cas. So, we’re talking this time next year, huh? Let’s see. I’m most probably sitting on the couch with you, and we’re in the middle of binge-watching one of those shows you like or watching a documentary. I can’t really tell, because I’m having trouble focusing on what’s going on on the screen. The reason probably being that I have this ring in my pocket, and I keep thinking I should come up with more fitting words. I keep overanalyzing things, wondering if this is even something you might want. And then, we open the envelope, and I’m giving you this little piece of paper, and you start reading it. And I- I can see you frowning in concentration, and it’s been a year since I wrote this, and I still haven’t found the words, because really there are no words to even begin to describe what we have. So- So I take your hand, I kiss your knuckles, and I slip the ring on your finger, and I hope-
Man, I hope I get to spend the rest of my life with you.
With a dopey smile, Sam slipped the card back into the envelope, sealing it carefully. “So whipped,” he repeated quietly, but proudly. 2021 was going to be one for the books.
#atomicdetectivehideout#destiel secret santa#kate trying to fic#happy holidays everyone!#all the love to you#destiel fanfic#destiel ficlet#deancas fanfic
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I bought a house in the middle of nowhere
“Yeah, I loved it, but she’d never move there.”
It was something akin to that, at least. He didn’t mean any mischief, no deceit or planning. It was an honest take on what, at the time, was true. I saw the road into town on Google Maps, noted that it was closed during the winter, acknowledged the reality that a person can own a snowmobile, and I said, “we are not moving there.”
But, all good truths are just dares in the making.
And here I am, living in the “there” I said I would not.
Two years ago, I left my job at Headspace for a life reset. It was pre-pandemic, and Ben and I were planning a big road trip. Our perfect paradise in Topanga, CA, had crystallized itself as many people’s perfect paradise, and those “many people” all had more money than us. Our options to buy a home were nil, and home-buying was essentially all we wanted. Ben’s a builder and I’m a world builder, and we wanted somewhere to invest that didn’t belong to someone else.
We packed the car with the tent and the bikes and the dog and all the things that come with tents and bikes and dogs, and off we went on our own Tour de l’Ouest, looking for a place to call home. We knew what we wanted, knew our odds of finding it, and hit the road anyway. Here was the dream list — concocted by two pie-in-the-sky dummies who married each other:
Not rainy or consistently windy
Notable access to the arts
Remote and challenging to get to/close neighbors
Wild West influenced architecture
Progressive community
Exceptional trail access out the front door
High-speed internet
In our budget
And my personal favorite: had to “feel right”
Good luck to us with a list like that, but thus began our hunt. We camped in the snow, tried every dirty chai in the Rockies, and explored every town we could. Whatever a good time it was, it felt useless. Every town Ben was OK with, I hated. Every town I was OK with, Ben despised. And the few places we both loved required money we just didn’t have. We came home with our sails down, limping into the harbor of our rental.
But as is the way with romantics, our dreams began to slowly eclipse our reality. Books fell victim to Zillow and Trulia. TV was replaced by the MLS. All writing time was dedicated to Realtor.com. Hours were spent pouring over maps, county records, and updating spreadsheets that tracked price per square foot compared to beds and baths.
Over time, all that internetting led to one singular town of 180 people at 10,000 feet in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado with a road that said “Closed Winters” on Google Maps.
Look, I don’t know what happened. Ben found this town on a map, I said don’t be ridiculous, and after a year or so of him telling people I'd never move here, here I am, being ridiculous. Was it reverse psychology? Maybe. Was it the charming “town plan” that mandated all houses be rustic cabins and forbade AirBnB? Could be. Was it the fact that when I looked at Strava’s Heatmap, it showed what seemed like thousands of miles of trails just out the front door? I mean, yes. All these things played a part, but all I know for certain is that one day I woke up and said, “we’re going to move there.” Ben doubted this conviction (and the realities behind it) thus cementing it into place in my head.
In a town of 180 people there’s only ~60 houses, which means maybe 2 or 3 get listed per year — but my spreadsheet had the proof: we hadn’t missed our chance yet in this tiny town. The data showed a strong likelihood there would be at least two houses listed within the calendar year. This, however, was also our last chance. The spreadsheet also showed that if we didn’t find a house this year, we wouldn’t be able to afford one the next.
We called a realtor, made our case, and harangued her until she believed us that we were truly the kind of yahoos who would move to an avalanche field and stay there.
And then it happened. A pocket listing. It was a darling home built in 1890. It had the beds, the baths, and the views. We were the first and only to know. We put in an offer, they agreed, and we would come to see the house in a few weeks. But in those few weeks, the circumstances changed. The sellers lost their own sweet deal, and they couldn’t sell yet. Their agent promised we had right of first refusal, it was only a matter of time. Ben lamented, I preached patience, and we went to see the house that was no longer for sale anyway.
It was a quiet winter morning in Covid when we drove across the packed snow to meet our realtor outside the house. The sun was out and the 13 degrees Fahrenheit felt warm. I unzipped my jacket, mask on my face. I took long videos and talked about where I would set up my office and where we’d put the bikes. As we closed up and I settled into a future where this house would eventually be mine, our realtor told us there were comps in the area — other residents quietly interested in potentially closing out. Would we like to see them? Sure, let’s.
One home came with an incredible commercial kitchen. The whole house was a whopping 3500 sq ft if my memory serves me correct, which falls under the category of “houses too big to find your cat in."
Another home had an open-air-to-the-kitchen bathroom.
The third was dark and overpriced with cracked windows and open beer cans scattered about.
And then, plans changed.
“Hey guys, there’s actually one more house we can see.”
The last house we saw was a log cabin, nestled in the hillside by itself, with massive A-frame windows looking out onto the peaks beyond. Inside was a labyrinth of a life lived long and large. The cabin was built and loved by a man we’ll call Jack. Jack was 82, and as we walked toward the front door on that sunny winter morning, he exited with two beers in his pockets, headed to the mountain to ski. Jack was an attorney — in his life he’d been both criminal and defender — and from the stories, somewhat interchangeably. There were artifacts from running in the same scenes as Hunter S. Thompson and Willie Nelson; there were stuffed birds, bad books, sheet-covered couches, smoked spliffs, and piles and piles of mouse shit. Every inch of the house was lived in, and not just by people. You think millennials like plants? No. This man likes plants. The biggest monstera deliciosa I’ve ever seen, spanning some 10 feet wide and 15 feet tall. Draping cactuses, spider plants, massive aloes, and an ambitious hoya carnosa clawing its way to the top of the massive fireplace.
But there were problems. I’m trying to be diplomatic saying the house was lived in. The wood by the door handles was dyed black from years of hand grease rubbing against it. The carpet in the upstairs was soiled almost everywhere with bat scat. Newspaper was stuffed between the massive logs to keep the wind out. There was cardboard taped over almost every window, blankets nailed over the others. Half the doors wouldn’t open. It was unnerving to touch the crusted light switches. It was early enough in the season of Covid-fear that touching anything felt like gambling. On our way back to our rental in the bigger neighboring town, we shared our awe and our no-ways, lamenting how long we’d have to wait for the little 1890s fixer upper.
That night, I sent the video I took of the cabin to my parents. “Can you believe this?” I asked.
And do you know what my dad said?
“Great log construction.”
After that, the cabin was all we could talk about. “Could you believe those plants?” “Did you see how big those logs were?” “I just googled Jack, look at this.” “Do you know what the insulating factor of logs is?” “How much did he say he was asking?”
It came down to the plants. Amidst all the chaos in that house, the tender care of those decades-old plants sung the clearest. This wasn’t just a place Jack lived in, it was a place that wanted to be lived in. We made an offer the next day.
Jack had six months to clear out his 30 odd years of collecting, and the town had six months to speculate about the worrisome Californians moving to their high-altitude, high-risk town.
The town itself is an old mining town. It rests in a high valley, surrounded by peaks over 13,000ft, and is over six hours from the nearest major airport. Five people died around this town in avalanches this past year. The dirt road into town is littered with avalanche fields, warning visitors to not stop when driving in. The other way out is a pass road, only drivable in the warm months, but you could skin out if it was dire. Most August days, the high is in the mid-60s. The valley is blanketed in wildflowers, and the aspens littering the mountainsides suggest a promising fall display. The town had a heyday, a low day, and now it’s a community of preppers, adventurers, appreciators, and “get all these idiots away from me”ers. We don’t know these people yet, but the ones we’ve met have the same like to live hard attitude we do. Heli-ski guides, ex-CIA agents, woodworkers, bakers, teachers, just a general can-do group of people. The kind of people that see a California license plate and peer with skepticism between the thin gap over their sunglasses and under their caps.
You might say I’m romanticizing the place, but the residents are worse. Like all good old-timers, they’re full of threats: “wait’ll you see the snow drifts,” “let’s see how you do outrunning an avalanche,” “good luck with the winds,” “the last Californians didn’t last a year.”
God, what does that remind me of?
“Yeah, I loved it, but she’d never move there.”
With every taunt, my teeth ground more enamel, fingers rolling into a clench. And maybe Jack recognized this intensity, because on the day of closing, he hosted a gathering for us in the town's open space. He had us introduce ourselves to the skeptical locals, and I made my case in court, eyes narrowed and lips curled.
“I’m the daughter of a smokejumper and wildlife biologist. I grew up watching the wind and the door. I’ve lived in big cities, small boats, and more than one cabin. I always take the stairs, I never use air-conditioning, and I’m a very good shot.”
I’m just a girl, standing in front of a town, asking them to give her a fucking chance.
Jack stepped forward to speak. “You know, I had my doubts about a couple Californians coming to look at my house. But these people? These are the nicest people you’re ever gonna meet.”
And then I helped Jack set up his cot so he could spend his last night under the stars in the town that kept him young. Cooper ran circles with the other dogs. People brought homemade cocktails and bowls of dip and we felt welcomed. Even the mayor, a fellow writer, came and she struck up a conversation.
“I hear you’ve got a little bit of a following on social media!” She teased.
“I guess, nothing wild.”
“Well I just wanted to let you know if you ever geotag this town, I’ll drag you out of it.”
She grinned.
This was a special place. And every visitor who couldn’t handle the realities of being here threatened the very wellbeing of the people who lived here. This town survives on a delicate balance. They source their own water, manage their own roads, and fervently protect the land and the people around them. Their stories about racing avalanches, snowmobiling in the dark of night to the doctor’s house, hunkering down in each other’s homes as the storms pass — these stories were bylaws. You can join when you’ve proven you’re ready to join. By their own projection, they are hardy and steadfast people, and when they see a Californian, they see something fleeting.
Many years ago, I worked in the British Virgin Islands. The people born and raised there were called Belongers. At the customs office, the placards above the lines literally read, “If you belong, stand here” and “If you do not belong, stand here.”
Whether or not we belong isn't up to the town council, and it's not up to these residents. It's up to years spent drifting my old Mustang in the snow on the way to school, up to Ben's months and months spent in the backcountry, up to my years of reading fire reports and assisting with evacuations, up to Ben's ability to read the landscape and the weather, up to my doggedness, his diligence, and our pathological love to do difficult things well. It’s up to us, to these old logs, and to this valley. Doesn't mean we'll belong, but it does mean we'll try.
And for the record, the road is open in the winter. But do these sound like the kind of people who’d tell Google that?
Next week, a tour of the house that we get to call ours — stuffed with newspaper, run by plants, and filled with mice.
P.S. Here's where we get our mail.
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Kurtbastian - “Always and Forever”
Summary: After the death of their daughter Grace, Kurt and Sebastian drift apart. Kurt wraps himself up in his grief so tightly he starts to push Sebastian away, and Sebastian, feeling himself shoved aside when he needs Kurt most, cheats. They make the decision to start over, to leave New York City and their pain behind, and start over again in a house Upstate. Sebastian buys Kurt a "fixer upper" and gives him free reign. While redecorating the room that will be his studio, Kurt comes across something interesting underneath the wallpaper. It starts to become an obsession for Kurt - an obsession that begins to replace Kurt's love for his husband, which Sebastian is holding on to by a thread. Can Kurt and Sebastian break through the pain and the hurt and find a way to fall in love again?
Notes: Inspired by the Klaine advent drabble prompt "ache". So this is a story I started a while ago, but stopped after chapter 4 because it started to get a little too real. But I’ve started revising, and now I’m ready to finish it.
Chapter 1 (3197 words)
“God! That traffic was insane, wasn’t it?” Sebastian complains, pulling off the highway and onto the less congested road that leads to the heart of Manhasset.
Kurt mutters in agreement, but he barely noticed. His right temple has been glued to the passenger side window the entire trip. Eyes pointed skyward, he watched the clouds pass by as they drove, counted the trees, followed a flock of birds as they flew off to warmer climes far, far away.
Away from here, the way Kurt wishes he could.
“I called ahead to turn the gas on. And the electricity... ” Sebastian has been rambling about nothing for the whole hour and forty-five-minute drive, filling the tense air of the Navigator with verbal static. “We’re gonna want to air the place out for a few hours. The realtor told me it stinks like mold but that there isn’t any actual mold in the house. I hired two separate contractors to go through the place anyway and make sure. I wasn't going to take the guy's word for it. He struck me as a sandwich short of a picnic. I mean, you should have seen him, Kurt! He was wearing a purple paisley tie and brown loafers with a grey suit. And not like royal purple. That would have worked. But puce! Jesus Christ!” He chuckles. It bleeds into a nervous cough. “I didn’t say anything, but it would have been nice if you were there to give him some subtle pointers. Or not so subtle. You know how much I love seeing you in action. Oh, and we'll have to go over our insurance policy. I’m having a second independent appraiser… ”
“Are we there yet?” Kurt interrupts, preferring to focus on how the changing leaves mute the skyline than on a single word coming out of his husband’s mouth. Not that he could catch a one the way they’re sprinting off his tongue like lemmings off a cliff.
The trees soothe Kurt, smooth the rough edges of this bumpy ride. They grow differently out here than in the city: springing up in rows, displaying their fall colors, blending one into the other like an ever-changing river - red tree, yellow tree, brown tree, gold tree…
Their daughter Grace would call out the colors on their long car rides Upstate, conjuring rhymes where there were none. They roll through his memory in her singsong voice.
Green tree… uh... lean tree!
Kurt smiles, clutching on to the sound of her voice.
He's terrified of the day he'll forget what her voice sounds like.
“Just… uh… just a few more blocks,” Sebastian replies, his attempt at chitchat cut short by his husband’s impatient tone. Despite his infinitely expressive voice, Kurt only uses three tones nowadays - angry, impatient, and indifferent. Sebastian hasn’t learned how to avoid any of them, but he hates Kurt’s indifferent tone the most. “Not too far.”
“Good. Because I’m tired of sitting in this stupid seat.” Kurt switches positions, massaging his hip for emphasis. 'Tired of sitting in this stupid seat.' That's what he said. But he meant, 'tired of being stuck in here with you.'
And Sebastian knows it.
Sebastian turns down two streets that spiral together tighter and tighter until he and Kurt are locked in to their new neighborhood.
Locked in to their decision to move here.
“Here it is.” Sebastian pulls up to the curb at the point before the street turns into a cul-de-sac.
Kurt sits up slowly to accommodate his stiff spine and numb ass. Looking around, he sighs in frustration. “Here what is? There are five houses on this block. Which one is it?”
“Guess.” When Kurt sighs again, Sebastian says, “I’ll give you a hint – it’s one of these three,” and motions to the houses on Kurt’s right. Kurt rolls his eyes but turns to the houses closest. They all appear relatively identical – three floors with a pointed roof and a square porch, reminiscent of a gingerbread house. They probably have basements – a huge selling point in this vicinity. But they don’t call them basements Upstate. They call them cellars. Somehow, the word cellar is more refined, and therefore more acceptable than having a dull, run-of-the-mill, drafty basement.
Need that cellar so you can have the most expensive cabernet on the market on hand in case we need to drunkenly judge Sally Jones’s latest highlight fiasco.
“She should have gone with lowlights, Sharon. (sip) Haven’t I been saying that, Kayla? (sip) Haven’t I been saying that she should have stuck with lowlights? But only around her face. (sip) Ha-ha-ha-ha! Please, pass the brie.”
Kurt spent a good portion of his life living in a basement bedroom, so he’s not above the word. But he remembers a time back in high school when he thought that was the person he would grow up to be. He’d start out as one of the New York elite, then become an Upstate snob. When his kids (two of them – a boy and a girl) were grown and gone, he’d start an artists’ colony. He'd retire to a lighthouse, isolate himself in obscurity while being ironically jaded at the world.
Well, he's nearing forty, and he is jaded, but for entirely different reasons.
The house at the curve in the cul-de-sac is painted a sea green Kurt isn’t thrilled with. But that can be remedied with a bucket of paint and some elbow grease. From its position, it probably gets the bulk of the noon sun.
There goes their electric bill.
Kurt knows Sebastian doesn’t care about trivial things like finances, but just because they have the money to spend doesn’t mean they should shovel it out the window. Plus, there's their carbon footprint to think about. But more importantly, there goes his fair skin, which will freckle at every meal while he does nothing other than sit at the kitchen table.
No, thank you.
The house beside it is in a better position, slanted away from direct sunlight. But it’s painted a slate blue that comes across as too harsh considering the neighborhood’s neutral color scheme. Sebastian should know better than to see that house and say, “Yes. That’s it. That’s the one,” unless the inside looks like the Palace of Versailles.
The last house is also blue, but this blue borders on pale grey, a similar shade to his father’s house in Lima. A maple tree has grown through the pavement in front, shading the house and shedding its red-gold leaves all over the front yard.
And this house has a porch swing.
He and Sebastian used to talk about owning a home with a porch swing. It became a prerequisite for the home they wanted to retire in. Kurt pictured sitting on their swing side by side in the early mornings, sipping coffee and watching the sunrise.
Sebastian, on the other hand, talked about having sex on the thing and scaring the neighbors.
Same planet, different worlds.
“It’s this one,” Kurt guesses, gesturing to the blue-grey house. “The one with the swing. Isn’t it?”
“Don’t sound too excited,” Sebastian jokes but warily, afraid of what the fallout might be if Kurt doesn’t like it. Sebastian has been climbing a tenuous ladder to make his husband happy. One misstep and he'll plummet back to the bottom, with no certainty that Kurt will let him try to climb up again. It’s his own damn fault, Sebastian reminds himself as they get out of the vehicle. He did this to them, so he’ll let Kurt lash out, let him bare his teeth and his claws, let him dig in with both hands and rip.
Sebastian deserves it.
He leads Kurt up the walkway in silence, past the tree and the swing. He unlocks the front door and pushes it open, standing back so Kurt can be the first one over the threshold. Kurt takes his time, poking his head in first, then taking a hesitant step. This is an all-or-nothing moment for him. In his heart, once he walks inside, there's no turning back.
He sets his foot down, rests his weight on it, and a dozen memories come flooding back: the house he lived in with his mom and dad, the house he and his dad moved into when his dad remarried, the dorm rooms he suffered from high school to college.
The first night he spent in Sebastian's penthouse, the excitement of feeling like he'd found his true home.
The house he dreamed of raising Grace in.
In the end, they stayed in the penthouse for convenience. He regrets not getting her an actual house with a yard and a swing.
Like this one.
The irony.
The room lists, Kurt's head swims, but he wraps his arms around himself and doesn't let it show. He focuses on the here and now. He's taken a step. He just needs to take another. And another. Keep going. Keep moving forward, or else he'll crumple to the ground.
And Sebastian will rush to catch him.
Kurt would rather bury himself under the porch.
Kurt breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, relies on a cold and detached demeanor to help him instead of the strong arms of his husband.
This house has a different feel from the open floor plan of the penthouse they've been living in since college. It's cramped around the corners, with a lot more shadows and a lot less noise. Sebastian likes that better. He’s an Ohio native, same as Kurt. But unlike Kurt, he considers himself a country boy. Even though Sebastian built his identity around becoming a state's attorney like his father, he loved the quiet life: wide-open spaces, blue skies, unhurried, and just plain normal.
Kurt saw Ohio as a cage he couldn't wait to break free from.
Sebastian could have bought Kurt any house he wanted. In that vein, Sebastian feels like a heel for jumping on this one without consulting Kurt first. He reasoned that he'd been the one house hunting, not Kurt. So when a contact told him that the owner of this house, a house Sebastian had had his eye on for a while, was finally selling, it seemed too perfect, especially considering the timing.
Sebastian bent over backward to rescue it from escrow.
Kurt didn't want to leave the city, but it was full of too much pain for him to handle, too many memories, friends and acquaintances who had yet to hear the news, and those who constantly offered their condolences. Few people greeted him anymore without their smiles dropping and the words, “I’m so sorry,” coming out of their mouths, as if joy shouldn't exist around him anymore.
It made his head, his heart, and his soul ache.
Kurt loved New York City, but there was nothing left for him there but the constant hollow thud he felt whenever he saw something that reminded him of their angel Grace. School would be starting soon. All of her friends will be moving on to the fifth grade. But his daughter...
Life ended for her too soon.
“Here.” Sebastian reaches for Kurt’s hand, but Kurt reflexively pulls it away, slipping his hands into his pockets to cover for his flinching from Sebastian’s touch. Sebastian should be used to it by now, but he isn’t. “Let me show you why I think you’re going to love this house.”
Sebastian jogs up the stairs to the next level. Kurt follows a few steps behind. When he reaches the top, he sees three doors. They pass the first two without mention. Sebastian opens the last.
“Here.” Sebastian crosses to the opposite side and throws open one of two windows, filling the musty space with the crisp bite of autumn. “I thought this room could be your new studio.”
Sebastian knows him too well. The room is perfect. Even at dusk, it’s flooded with natural light. It looks out over the rooftops of the other houses, giving him a view of the surrounding forests and orchards stretching way past the highway. With a little TLC, it could look just like his studio in their penthouse.
Or he can turn it into something new.
Start with a clean slate.
“What are the other two rooms?” Kurt asks offhandedly. He doesn't need to.
He knows what the other rooms are.
There are only two rooms they can be.
“A bathroom and the master bedroom,” Sebastian answers, watching his husband stroll across the floor.
“So this would have been… ?”
“A spare? A guest room?” Sebastian shifts his weight from foot to foot, unable to find an easy groove to stand in.
Kurt frowns. No. It would have been Grace’s bedroom if she were still with them. Kurt was trying to get his husband to acknowledge that. Cruelly. But if she were with them, Sebastian wouldn’t have cheated, their marriage wouldn’t be falling apart, and they wouldn’t be running away from their problems.
“I guess I could put a foldout bed in here,” Kurt throws out as he estimates the space.
“You can if that’s what you want,” Sebastian agrees. “Or you’re just saying that to hurt me, which, if you are, you’ll be happy to know, it’s working.”
“I’m not saying that to hurt you,” Kurt eloquently lies. “I’m being practical. I’m not going to have easy access to the Vogue workshop if I live two hours away. If I expect to get a new line started, I’m going to have to pull long hours.”
Sebastian scrutinizes his husband, who’s doing his best to avoid looking at him. “You’re… thinking of starting a new line? You didn’t mention that.”
Kurt shrugs. “Did I have to?”
“No. I mean, I wasn’t sure that you would go back to designing so soon after.”
"After?" Kurt tilts his head inquisitively but still makes no eye contact.
"After... moving. There's going to be a lot to do here. I thought you'd give yourself a year. Maybe more." Sebastian answers so quickly, Kurt wonders if he'd practiced. They talk in code, this whole conversation a carefully choreographed tango through a labyrinth of knives.
Sebastian didn't mean after moving. He meant after the death of their daughter. Kurt practically spent every spare second he wasn’t designing for work designing with her. Kurt has been a designer since high school. Aside from music, it's his passion.
Sebastian feared Grace's death might sever those harp strings.
"I think you underestimate me. Besides, you’re considering going back to working in the city after… ”
Pivot, walk walk, close.
The dance changes. They switch places, and Kurt leads.
Kurt isn't talking about them moving or Grace.
Kurt means after Sebastian cheated.
Kurt only agreed to move out of the city and live in a house he's never seen to keep Sebastian away from the man he's convinced will become too big a temptation to resist the next time they get into any kind of argument. Granted, it took their daughter dying for Sebastian to cheat, but Kurt figures it’ll keep getting easier from now on to come up with an excuse.
Can't agree on where to go for dinner? Have a huge blowout over which cards to send out for Christmas? That's it! I'm sticking my dick in someone else!
“Anyway, I wouldn’t want to wake you by crawling into bed at four in the morning, not when you have to be at work at six,” Kurt finishes when he’s let that dig soak in long enough.
“I’m not going back to work for a while, remember? That’s what a leave of absence is. And even if I was, why would I mind you waking me?” Sebastian risks a grin. “In fact, I was thinking that it might be nice to get back to what we used to do in the mornings before work. I miss that.”
Sebastian holds his breath while he sees how that remark lands. He waits for Kurt to look at him. Kurt hasn’t been able to look at him, really look at him, since hungover Sebastian came home in a taxi the morning after, clothes ruined, their marriage officially in the gutter. Grace passed away six months ago, which means he’s been waiting for a while.
He’s still waiting.
“This isn’t all about you,” Kurt reminds him, raising his eyes to the ceiling.
Kurt didn't yell. But that doesn't mean he's not furious.
“I know,” Sebastian says softly. He rubs his cold hands together, wishing he could stick them underneath his husband’s thick, button-down sweater, and press his palms against Kurt’s skin. A year ago, Kurt would have squealed, “Bas! Your hands are freezing!” But he would have wrapped his arms around himself and held on, would have let Sebastian lean in for a kiss, would have fallen for the line, “Now that my hands are warm, maybe you can help me warm up a few other things.”
Then they would have made love on the wood floor with the door open.
If only he could make Kurt laugh the way he used to.
Then maybe Kurt would love him again.
But going by his husband’s expression, dreary as the olive sweater he holds closed with one hand at the neck, Sebastian knows that now is not the time.
“Is this what you need to make you happy?” he asks. If only it were that simple. If only a house, or a car, or a vacation could turn back the clock and erase everything that happened.
Erase everything Sebastian did, and bring their daughter back.
Kurt doesn't answer right away. He's not purposefully keeping Sebastian in suspense. He couldn't care less what's going on in Sebastian's head. This is his future he's considering.
He's going to take his time.
He circles the room, contemplating the echo of his footsteps on the roughly finished wood, debating whether or not it's a sound he wants to hear for the rest of his life. If not, is it worth putting in the time to fix it?
He traces the path of sunlight as it travels across the wall. That brings a new detail to his eye - a torn corner of wallpaper above the open window revealing a word underneath.
Darling.
Kurt eyes it from a distance, tries not to pay too much attention to it in case Sebastian is behind it. It doesn’t look like it was written recently. It's more than likely part of the pattern underneath. But leave it to Sebastian to try to woo his husband back with something syrupy like that.
Something hopelessly romantic.
Something he thinks Kurt will fall for.
“No,” Kurt answers honestly, re-examining the fading wallpaper, the scuffed floors, the peeling ceiling. His gaze glances his husband’s face and settles on the dust-streaked window. He stares out at the sky, the clouds, the trees, the birds flying wild and free. He’s never going to be able to fly away like that, so he might as well accept this cage he's been given. It's what he's supposed to do, after all. “But it’s worth a try.”
He has little else left to lose.
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