#I share no walls with neighbours in my bedroom but the living space I might share a little bit of wall

[jeanbie]

HIGHER THAN HEAVEN ★ masterlist.

pairing: levi x reader

genre: university au | warnings: sexual content, fem/afab!reader, masturbation, listening-to-the-other-fucking, sexual tension, slut/whore shaming (men being pigs), "slutty"!reader, mentions of spit | wc: 10.7k | ♬

note: why has this been a wip for like...a year? also i always like to try out new versions of levi and i feel like he'd actually be just a normal kinda grumpy guy in a modern setting so i hope u guys like my uni!levi interpretation ꒰* ॢꈍ◡ꈍ ॢ꒱.*˚

⏤ Levi wants to be mad that his neighbour keeps screwing guys really loudly. But how can he be mad when she's just so goddamn pretty?

It's the third time this week.

Levi knows what it means to let off steam, and he knows that exam season has just finished. For the last few days, the volume of noise where he lives has climbed exponentially; flats throwing parties, yelling in the hallways and laughter outside his window. 

Levi's happy, too, that his exams are over, but he has to admit, he thought there might be moral standards from the people he called neighbours. 

He sighs, momentarily tapping down the volume of his music as he hears what he thinks might be his neighbour against the shared wall. The sound is fleeting, and he almost thinks he's making it up, and then he hears her soft whimpers and two hard thuds against the thin separation between their bedrooms. Levi waits for a second, blinking, and then he closes his eyes.

He's never really met his neighbour. It's been around eight months of living next door to one another, and he doesn't think he's actually ever seen her. Once, he decided he'd try to confront her when she left her room, but just kept missing the opportunity. 

Unlike his previous three years of university, Levi had decided to bunk alone for the final climb of his undergrad degree. His friends would all be upstairs somewhere, either in studios of their own or sharing six-bed flats amongst themselves, but God knew that Levi needed the space this time around. 

In his first year, he'd shared with quite possibly the worst human beings he'd ever had the displeasure of knowing. He spent more time at Erwin's flat than his own, which is why he ended up moving in with him in his second year. Then, he took a spontaneous study abroad for his third year (spontaneous, as in all of his friends were doing the same thing, and there was no way he was staying here on his own when they were out having the greatest times in different countries), and now, in his fourth and final year, Levi just wants to know that being alone doesn't have to be a luxury. 

He needs the space, and the quiet. Granted, his studio is spacious, although it would be perfect if he wasn't on the ground floor with little to work with for a view. Eight months down the line, and he's still waiting for that promised peace and quiet.

There are two other people in this hallway, but his next-room neighbour, Room A, is by far the most interesting. He knows that the people in Room D are party animals, and during freshers week, they made that fact glaringly obvious. Room C are ghostly, silent most of the time until they remember that they, too, have music to play to block out other people's noise.

Levi likes being in Room B because it's not too far from the exit. If he were to open his door, he'd be adjacent to Room A; the space is so tight that he's not even sure they would be able to leave or enter at the same time. 

The list of what he thinks he knows about his next-room neighbour is longer than what he actually knows. He knows for certain that she's female, and that she cares about the cleanliness of her flat. If Levi's not listening to the sound of other people's mess, he can hear her vacuuming every other day, which he can respect. 

Levi knows that her name is Y/N, because he's heard it being called a few times, both for business and pleasure. He also knows that she's in her final year, just like him, because once he overheard her on a phone call complaining about her dissertation. That's about all he knows confidently. 

The rest is speculation, things he thinks he knows from listening: he thinks she sleeps with the radiator off, because he always hears the switch in the morning. He thinks she keeps her keys on her door because he hears them clink when it closes, and he thinks she mumbles to herself sometimes, because the walls are thin and if she's not on the phone, then who could she be talking to? 

Finally, Levi thinks that she might be a bit of a whore, and he means it endearingly, because the amount of times Levi has heard her fucking somebody is becoming ridiculous.

At first, Levi tried to be understanding. After all, it wasn't like she was screwing guys in the hallway. She was in her room, in her own time, and he tried to come to terms with that simply being out of his hands. The noise was unfortunate, yeah, but he could always put his headphones on for an hour or so. 

Then it just kept happening, like clockwork, like some sick joke. 

After about the sixth time, he was fed up. He'd thrown his headphones down, scowling angrily as his eyes flickered to the time in the corner of his computer screen — 1:23am. It was bad enough that he was working all night on his stupid assignment, and now his neighbour was screwing some asshole so loudly that he may as well have had no headphones on in the first place? 

At least she sounded good. 

Levi had deliberately ignored that thought for a while, until he heard her having sex with some guy a few months ago. He'd sighed, like a routine at that point, and remained seated on his couch, the remote in his hand ready to raise the volume of the football game on TV.

The noise was faint — if Levi had to predict based on the floor plans of their rooms, she'd probably be on her bed — but if he strained enough, he'd be able to hear her mewling, the even fainter sounds of slapping skin. 

He sat there, silently, listening in like a priest taking confessions in church. His silence was judgement and equal measures of fascination. Having never really listened to her before, Levi never knew she sounded like that. Submissive, but seductive, dirty and slutty. Hm.

He had learned to respect her sex life — even creating his own for a while, too, giving her a taste of her own medicine. If anything, that only made things more lively in Room A. Somehow he blames himself for it having got to this point, presently, where he sits listening to her for the third time in a week — and it's not even Friday yet.

16:34 Levi: she's at it again 16:35 Erwin: AGAIN???? 16:37 Hange: isnt this like the fifth time this week? 16:37 Levi: third

Levi turns his chair to face the other wall, looking up at the blank plaster. There's another thud against it, and he blinks, his brows raised slightly. Is she fucking someone against the wall?

16:39 Furlan: theres no way its that bad 16:40 Furlan: send vid

After skimming over the texts, Levi's eyes flicker back to the wall. Then, he rises up from his chair and walks towards it, angling his body with his ear to the noise. Now that he's close, he can't hear a thing, and he scoffs — typical — and prepares to move away.

"Mphf — damn, bitch. You're more of a slut than I thought."

Levi stops. 

Bringing his phone to his legs, Levi slumps his shoulder against the wall casually and almost cranes to listen. Without seeing anything, he feels like a fly on the wall. He hears someone with a deep voice grunting — he doesn't care about them — followed by occasional gasps, much softer, honeyed, elusive. 

"You thought I was a slut?" 

Levi hears her voice quivering, but there's little hurt in her tone. It's all lust, and he can hear the smile in her words. 

For a second, Levi hears her body thud against the wall again and he flinches backwards. She must be directly on the other side — if the bricks weren't there, her body would be up against his own. 

"Dunno what I thought," the male voice says, strained. "Wasn't-expecting-this. Shit, that's tight."

"Mm. You like it?" There's a beat of silence, and the faint sounds of breathy moans, high in an octave that sends goosebumps pricking over Levi's arms. "You like me?"

"Like your pussy. Shit, girl."

With every imagined thrust, Levi can hear her moaning, her voice raising as the pace fastens. Levi stands there, his eyes zoning out on the crack under his door and eventually, he pulls back. There's a slight ringing in his ears, and blood rushes to the tips.

16:51 Levi: phone can't pick up the volume 16:51 Levi: just trust me

It happened two more times before the weekend rolled by, and Levi thought that she must be on a conquest of bedding every guy on campus. Half of him thought it was to spite him specifically, although he wasn't even sure that she knew what she was doing was bothering him so much. 

Friday evening had been a strange eve of silence, but he still felt on edge, as if waiting for the sounds to emerge. The weekend soon enough rolled by with no more sexscapades, and he felt almost a sag of relief in his shoulders.

Levi had just gotten out of the shower when he heard a knock on his door.

"Oh. It's you."

When he pulls it open, inwards on his own room, Levi props his weight against the door and stares out at Reiner, who is holding a light board under his armpit. Reiner holds it out to him with a nonchalant shrug and holds the door open with his foot as Levi takes the board with a raised brow and plonks it onto his bed. 

Reiner stands in the doorway until he comes back, not quite daring to enter.

"I need one of those," Reiner offers in conversation. 

"Well, you've got a job, buy one,” Levi replies, making Reiner smirk. "If you've broke it, then you can pay for it."

Reiner throws up his hands, "Hey, they don't call me the gentle giant for nothing."

Levi's face drops into a disapproving frown, "Nobody calls you that."

"You're right," Reiner sighs with a charming grin and then folds his arms. 

Reiner and Levi know one another from one of their elective classes, and by some magical fate — or a wild coincidence — Reiner had been a mutual friend of one of his closest friends since first year. He also lives upstairs on the third floor, alongside some other guys and a girl that Levi didn't know very well, but had met once at a party and had kissed. He'd considered bringing her back to his room just to torment his neighbour but passed up the temptation.

Thinking of his neighbour, Levi's eyes quickly dash to her door, wondering if she might be inside and listening to them. Reiner doesn’t catch the look — or maybe he does, prompting him to his next sentence.

"You should come out tonight," Reiner suggests.

"Where?"

"A few of us are getting some drinks at Sonny's," he says. "Feel like I haven't seen you properly since that party, like, what, three months ago? You should get out more, have fun." Then, Reiner's smile widens and he, too, glances to his left to Room A, "Escape your sex fiend of a neighbour."

Levi might have cringed at the thought of her listening in, but to his surprise, he found a thrill rush through his body. Maybe she was listening right now, curled up to the door.

"I don't like Sonny's," Levi replies.

"Oh, you've been there before?"

"No. But I saw it on Eren's Instagram once, and it looked awful, sorry."

Laughing, Reiner shrugs his shoulders. "I don't care. It's just nice to get out. Really — what if we changed bars, would you come then?"

Just as he says that a soft thud can be heard from behind him, beyond the walls of the thin hallway that houses Levi’s room and his neighbours'. Levi almost cranes to catch the sound, half expecting his party animal hall-mates from Room D to come bounding inside, dressed in flamboyant attire to listen to loud music whilst getting ready to hit the town for the Friday deals that bars boasted of to rowdy students. 

Instead, the door just to the right of Reiner swings open and a young woman steps inside. Levi blinks — depending on which direction she goes in, Levi's life could get a little bit more interesting.

Levi knows that he’s seen her before in the common room, chatting to other friends around a pool table, or shaking a vending machine with a stranger to try and free an overpriced bottle of Dr Pepper from the machine's claws. 

Levi blinks once again, and Reiner turns at the sound of the door creaking open, and the breath almost leaves Levi's body in one giant exhale when she steps in their direction, towards Room A.

Ah. So this is Y/N.

Reiner's eyes move up and down with intrigue as she — you — step closer towards them. Judging by your almost surprised gaze, and the flit of your eyes as you look between them and the door to Room A, even Reiner knows that you are the aforementioned sex fiend, the famous neighbour who screws guys all the time and makes Levi all hot and bothered. 

Nothing is said — there is nothing to be said. For a split second, you pause, judging the space past Reiner to your door, to your sanctuary, meanwhile, the two men size you up, intrigued by your very existence. Levi feels his conversation skills run dry — what could he say now that you were here?

He has to confess, against his previous wishes, that you were pretty. Beautiful, even. He tries to downplay it by thinking about you pushed up against the wall with a cunt full of someone else's cock, but if anything the thought only makes things worse. 

As you push through the awkward silence of the hallway, Reiner slightly inches closer to Levi, as if to give you space as you stride by. To their surprise, you do so with a lifted gaze, having the nerve to look shy, guilty, friendly. 

Everything would be easier if you weren't his type, weren't Reiner's type. Levi thinks about that for a second as his friend devours the sight of you, and Levi feels his stomach dip. He's never even spoken to you before, but he feels like Reiner has just crossed a boundary somehow. 

The fact of you being as pretty as you sound, as desirable as Levi imagined you had to be to bring so many people back to your den (either irresistible or slutty, but sometimes those went hand in hand and he knew it) just makes the dull ache in his abdomen worse, his heartbeat fluttering ever so out of pace.

As you pass, you peer over at the two men, gazing at Levi in particular. You even look around him, eyeing his room. Then, when you look back at Levi, it’s as if something clicks — it was as if you registered that this man had been enduring your fucks and flirts for weeks and weeks on end, and had been courteous with not complaining once. 

You look at him, over him, sizing him up greedily. Levi moves from foot to foot in a way that looks impatient, although he isn’t sure he's fully convinced you of his indifference when you smile charmingly, your cheekbones full and round.

"Hello," you say — Levi almost buckles. He's only ever heard your voice through walls and doors, never face to face. He blinks dumbly, says nothing.

"Hey," is what Reiner offers with a wide grin, his gaze flickering to your body and then back to your face. But you don’t look back, only look over Reiner's shoulder to Levi, and then turn to your door and thrust the key into the hole. 

Your door untwists, unlocks, and in you go. After it closes and clicks with the lock, Levi hears you shuffling in your room, and then he finally looks back at Reiner. 

For once, Reiner says nothing. He raises his eyebrows and pulls a face, one that Levi rolls his eyes at, and then Reiner claps his hands together and announces his silent leave. 

Levi watches as if frozen in place as Reiner leaves the hallway, and when his own door closes with a slight tick, he strains to hear you beyond the wall, but can hear nothing.

A whole day has passed since then, but Levi can’t stop thinking about it.

He hasn’t left his room all day, to the stressed displeasure of his friends. The hallway has been frozen in a quiet stillness, with nobody coming and going at any point. Levi hasn’t heard you stirring since you walked past him and Reiner the day before, but he supposes he’s just thankful that he has no fears of being bombarded with sex for hours on end, or minutes at a time depending on which loser you lure home. 

Levi drops his plate into the sink, sighing with both hands flat on the side of the counter. To the left, he casts a dirty glance out the window, looking at the grey landscape beyond the glass. The car park to the hotel that is tucked neatly behind his building is virtually empty, and the giant lake-sized puddles ripple with rain. He felt like it always rained here. 

Listening to the rain, Levi finishes his ritual of cleaning the dishes and then turns off the tap with another sigh. It has just been too quiet today — unnervingly quiet, in a way that makes Levi feel more on edge than at ease. He's been craving this taste of silence for so long, but now that it’s here, everything just feels off. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose with an irritated exhale and moves through the thin archway to get to his bedroom, near the front door, when he hears something beyond the threshold of Room A next door. Levi stops in place.

The noise is so faint that he almost misses it. He leans his head closer in the direction of the wall, waiting for the next sound to give when he hears it again — a breathy whimper. The whimper transforms into a moan, one that Levi can hear as clearly as he would if he were in the room. There are no other voices, and Levi pulls away from the wall quickly like it's on fire.

No. It can’t be.

Levi finds it both annoying and amusing when he hears you entangled with some random guy every other day, but just the possibility of it being you, and you alone, in your room with nobody but your fingers, makes Levi’s throat tighten.

Before, it felt as though your sex life was a performance intended for Levi to listen to, but now that it’s just you, the moment feels private and intimate, and Levi doesn’t know what to do.

The moaning continues, staggered, stuttered, falling and rising in a tempo he knows only the hand of the moaner can create. By now, he’s somewhat of an expert on your noises, how you respond to whatever your partner is doing — the unfamiliarity of your pleasure tonight has thrown him off, and all Levi can do is apologise in his head and pull himself back against the wall. 

He’s come this far listening to you play with others. It would just be unfair not to hear how you really like it when you’re alone.

Levi can’t be sure what it is you’re actually doing; he’ll have to leave it to his imagination to conjure up the perfect image of you on your bed, legs spread, fingers stuffed up your cunt. He closes his eyes as he leans his head against the plaster, quite literally straining to hear every gasp leaving your mouth.

The world seems to slow around him, the sounds of your one-man show all he can hear. All of a sudden, he’s thankful for the unnatural silence of the hallway outside so he can hear it all.

What he pictures is lewd and perfect; you’re biting your lip probably, trying to contain yourself as you plunge your fingers deeper inside your pussy, curling them in a way nobody else can. The lights are dimmed, but in his mind, the picture of your body is crystal clear; the shape of your body is outlined by light, shadows cast attractively around the perk of your breasts, the glisten of crystalline sweat on your skin. 

With your chest rising, Levi watches in his mind as your thighs quiver, your knuckles pushing against your opening — if it was possible to get more of your finger in there, you’d do it.

Your fingers slide in and out covered in wetness, each plunge inside accompanied by another moan that makes him shudder. Levi’s ear is flat against the wall, his cock hardening uncomfortably beneath his joggers. 

All of a sudden, the shame of eavesdropping washes over him and he pulls away, breathing heavily as he moves from the wall to the bathroom. For good measure, he slams the door behind him, immediately turning on the tap and washing his face. What was he thinking?

Thankfully, there’s nobody to greet his ashamed walk back into his bedroom. He rubs the side of his face with a groan and glances back at the wall. For a moment, he pauses, but he hears no more sound.

Levi’s been in a sour mood since the weekend, and nobody around him knows how to solve it. 

At first, it had started with the dream he’d had; the dream where he’d shoved your head into a pillow and fucked your brains out, which woke him with a start and another guilty walk to the bathroom. Then, he’d turned up late to his class and simultaneously discovered that Reiner had, in fact, broken the light board he loaned him the other week.

After that, he received a bitchy email from the receptionist at his building about upcoming fire alarm inspections, and because he’d been too busy looking at his phone, Levi had slammed into a group of first-year girls in the library and caused one of them to drop all of her books and her coffee on the floor. Now, his wallet was five pounds lighter and his expression was sour, and no matter how hard his friends tried to coax him out of his foulness, it was no use.

“At least you bought her another coffee,” says Eren with a shrug as he watches the flustered first-year disappear out of the student café with her friend.

“Not the point, dipshit.”

“It’s probably ‘cause of the lack of sleep this man gets thanks to his harlot neighbour,” Hange suggests, their shoulders hunched as they finish up one of their handouts for their evening class.

At that, Reiner looks up from his phone and adds, “Hot harlot neighbour.”

“Is she actually?” asks Erwin. “I don’t know if I can trust your judgement in women, Reiner.”

“She is beautiful,” Levi mutters reluctantly, his face still drawn together with irritance. Admitting that fact only makes him feel worse, especially when the memory of his dream creeps back into his mind. He sighs and rubs his neck. “But she hasn’t really made any noise in a while.”

“Maybe she’s on her period,” says Eren unhelpfully. 

“Whores are on the pill,” Porco adds, suddenly reminding Levi of his presence. The blond-haired guy sits to the right with a coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other.

“Don’t you think it’s kind of sexist to call her a whore when I know most of you probably have higher body counts?” replies Isabel. She’s crept up on the knit of friends, but contrary to normal, her being here doesn’t make Levi feel any better. Right now, there are simply too many witnesses to his misery.

Eren shrugs. “Fine. Then she’s a slut.”

“As if that’s any better,” Isabel says dumbly. “You guys are pigs.”

“But she is beautiful,” Reiner says again. “I’m telling you — it’s a miracle Levi hasn’t made his move yet. If I lived next door to someone who looked like that…” He trails off. Levi cringes. How did he end up being friends with the worst people in the world?

Reiner sells Levi as actually having enough confidence to get up and knock on her door, when the truth of the matter is that Levi is too afraid to even approach the wall when he hears a noise anymore. In the time between him listening to you finger-fucking yourself and him having such an out-of-pocket dream about you, Levi hasn’t even wanted to listen to anything he hears outside of his room, too afraid of what he might do or think if he hears you again.

Besides, what would he even do? It’s been almost eight months of sharing a wall, and he’s come no closer to knowing you or anything about you. You’re as familiar to him as any stranger in this café, but the only difference is that he’s heard the way you whimper when your cunt is stuffed with cock and you’re up against the wall, which most people would have trouble competing with.

When you know how someone sounds when they’re most likely cumming on someone else’s dick, it’s an unbeatable bond.

Levi looks up at Reiner as if to say something, but then his eyes are drawn to the doors to the café. They widen suddenly, and after watching his expression shift, Reiner follows his gaze and looks over his shoulder.

After a few seconds, he whips his head back to the group and hisses, “That’s her!”

The speed at which their heads turn is almost funny to Levi, and he might have laughed had he not been so full of mortified fear at the sight of you. 

You look pretty today — really pretty. Pretty in a way that Levi can’t even begin to make sense of considering the only way he’s seen you so far is in glimpses, in the corridor dressed in comfy clothes, or stark naked with his dick up your snatch in his head. His whole body fills with a sticky heat as he narrows his gaze on you, hoping that by staring you might disappear like a mirage and spare him the embarrassment due to come.

But nothing ever goes the way Levi wants it to. He breathes in heavily when your gaze pans across the room as if you’re searching for someone, stopping with a comical wide-eyed look of surprise when you see a group of six or so people all watching you with strange intensity. 

Levi is not at all prepared for the way your brows knit together in confusion as you assess the strangers, only to raise in acknowledgement when you finally look at him for a moment too long. 

Words are not needed to convey the silent series of events that spiral after that look. Levi knows instantly what you’re thinking and what it means. He knows that you know he’s told everybody about you — and he knows that you know he knows who you are and how often you do what you do. 

There’s no way of explaining how confident he is that you’ve cracked the code in your head — he doesn’t know anything at all, only that when your face brightens into a smile he knows he’s screwed.

So fucking screwed.

“Oh shit, you were right,” Porco says after a while of mutual silence, and Levi is strangely grateful for the distraction of his voice as he turns back to his friend. “She’s hot!”

“And you’re being fucking loud, shut up,” Levi grumbles, his face scrunched into such a tight frown that it hurts to hold it. “Yes, that’s her. So what.”

“She’s looking at you,” Hange says rather unhelpfully. They’re sitting with their elbows on their spread legs, head low as they glance at you over the top of their glasses. Their brows are so high they might as well become a part of their hairline as they say a few seconds later, “Still looking.” A beat, and then, “Still looking.”

Levi huffs quietly, trying to find something interesting on the low table in the middle of the group to latch onto. All he can find are some of Hange’s papers and Porco’s bagel wrapper — neither are particularly inspiring to stare at, but he stares anyway, acutely aware of the heavy weight of your gaze on the side of his face as you approach the coffee counter. 

“Maybe it’s because you’re all fucking gawking at her,” Levi replies stiffly. 

To their credit, the group does their best to mask their very obvious staring, but Levi already knows that their hanging mouths have caused irreparable damage. He makes it a point not to look back over at you, and based on how his friends try to busy themselves with random things, he guesses you’ve reluctantly looked away from them and are currently buying something.

After today, Levi will never come here again — he’s just suddenly remembered that you’re real, and the notion of seeing you out in public just became his next biggest worry.

“Maybe you should go and say hi,” Isabel suggests, her mouth full around a bite of brownie. 

Levi looks at her with an incredulous look. “And why would I do that?”

“She’s your neighbour,” Isabel replies slowly. “It’s polite. And friendly.”

“I’ll go and say hi, if you want,” offers Reiner. When Levi throws him a dirty look, he says, “What? She smiled at me before. I might be her next conquest.”

“Not much of a challenge for her,” Levi mutters. Besides, you weren’t even looking at Reiner back then — but as soon as the thought comes to his head he immediately exiles it. He’s not going to stoop as low as to fight Reiner on it; it will only deepen the hole he’s dug himself now that he's opened his mouth and told people about you.

After around four minutes, Levi has exhausted all possible resorts of interest around the table and anxiously rubs the back of his neck. Reiner still has his head looking up towards the coffee counter, but the others have mercifully ceased their curious staring. He levels his breathing and takes a quick swig of his tea, all before absentmindedly turning his head to look over his shoulder.

Your back is facing everyone, your head thrown back in laughter at something someone next to you is saying. Levi represses the urge to bristle at his own thoughts of what you might be laughing at, what possibly makes you laugh and smile — what coffee did you order, or maybe you are a tea person? Hot chocolate? Levi’s face falls into a narrow look of horror — Jesus Christ, he’s in so deep and over what? The sound of you?

Levi decides that he’s possibly gone insane after a long four years in academia and rests his cheek on his shoulder for a minute, gaze low. His friends are right, to a fault; he could just talk to you, scratch the itch until it’s gone and he can relax and live like a normal human being again. But that would involve taking initiative and actually confronting you, which in the grand scheme of things seems like a terrible idea. 

He’d rather just forget about the delusional display of heated fantasies he’s conjured up after getting just a peek at you.

“Oh, shit. She’s looking again.”

It’s embarrassing how quickly Levi looks back at you without even thinking about it. 

Sure enough, you’re looking back at the group, a cup of something steaming in your hand as your friend leads the way through a cluster of tables towards the double doors leading out onto the wide front courtyard. The screaming voice in his head is commanding Levi to look away, but he just can’t. 

He watches you as you look back at him, mapping out every detail he possibly can while he has the chance to just look without any consequence, and feels his breathing constrict when you smile, so softly that it knocks the literal wind from his lungs, and raise your free hand in a wave.

And he doesn’t even move.

Somewhere behind him, Levi hears Reiner snigger and the brawny guy lifts his own hand to wave back at you, a grin plastered on his face. Your eyes barely move to look at Reiner in acknowledgement before locking back onto Levi with an almost hopeful look, and now would be a great time for Levi to move or do something in response, but he doesn’t. And he doesn’t know how to respond when your smile deepens into a smirk, almost like that was exactly what you wanted him to do.

“Why does she look down bad?” Eren asks quietly, making Porco cackle with a laugh that makes you look away and slink after your friend. Levi affords himself the time to watch you go, watching the way your ass moves in your jeans, the way your breasts bounce in that shirt, the way your waist looks and the way your hair moves and the way your smile widens—

“You’re a lucky son of a bitch,” Porco says, shaking his head with an amused look on his face. “If I lived next to someone who looked like that, and looked at me like that—”

“Well, you don’t, so fuck off,” Levi snaps. Wrong answer: the boys in his group laugh even louder, and Levi wants to shrink to the size of an ant and drown in his tea.

God. Levi realises with a gigantic sigh that today has been a long ass day.

Levi rubs his hair with the towel and glares at his reflection in the mirror. He stares, long and hard, and frowns at what looks back. For a guy who is to be considered “grown”, he cannot believe how stupid he's being, how stupid his brain is.

He has never once had a crush on somebody he’s never even met before, and only actually seen properly about two times. In the long four years of being in this city, Levi has never entertained an interest in anybody, mostly because he felt he didn’t have the patience for a relationship nor the time, which is why the way he’s feeling now is all the more bothersome — and even worse when the person he’s having trouble understanding his feelings for is someone he’s barely met, never talked to, and knows likes cock more than the air they breathe.

It is simply outrageous that he likes you so much. And he’s not even sure if what he feels would qualify as liking you. 

Levi has never spoken one word to you and has never made any effort to do so, but alongside the audible archive of moans he has of yours in his memory and the mapped-out beauty of your face, Levi can distinguish that the pooling pit of desire in his tummy is closer to a crush than it is just general appreciation. And this feeling sucks.

Suddenly, Levi thinks back to seeing you in the student café and physically cringes at his reflection. All that for what? A smile? He is pathetic — Levi cannot believe that he has become such a strange man, and it is entirely your fault for being so pretty. And sounding so fucking sexy.

Levi hangs his towel on the small heated towel rack and washes his hands, hoping that in a metaphorical sense, it will wash away all of the terrible thoughts he’s having. Then, he shakes them dry and flicks off the bathroom switch, striding back into his room with a sinking feeling of emptiness. 

He makes his way to the kitchen and looks longingly at the kettle. A cup of tea would do wonders for the creeping headache forming in his skull, but like the idiot he’s suddenly turned out to be, Levi instead leans up on his toes to grab a bottle of whiskey from on top of the fridge and finds an accompanying glass to pour himself a drink. 

It’s been a long day, and he needs something strong. Quite frankly, Levi thinks he also deserves it.

For most of the evening, Levi entertains himself with his whiskey bottle, a glass and whatever the hell his TV can pick up in the black spot he calls home. He’s not sure how many glasses he’s had by the time he hears the corridor door swing open with its alarmingly loud squeal, but judging by how the room seems to tilt on its axis, Levi would wager a guess as to believe he’s had at least more than six glasses. 

He feels his heart in his ears, pounding like a war drum, and he immediately reaches for the remote and turns down the volume. Like a cat, he feels his ears prick at the slightest sounds, and quite quickly, it’s as though stones are weighing down his stomach when he hears a boyish kind of snigger in the hallway, followed by the sound of keys in Room A’s door.

Please no. Not right now.

Not when Levi’s trying to come to terms with the unnatural feelings he’s somehow garnered for you.

Levi hears you shush the guy of the night and push open your door, its hinges moaning with relief when both of you stumble inside and it closes with a click. It’s almost embarrassing how quiet Levi has gone in an effort to eavesdrop — as much as he dislikes the idea of you being fucked by some random guy, he has to admit that he’s come to find some enjoyment in the vision of you being destroyed, in the music made by your pleasure. It took a while to admit it, but now that he has, it’s like a weight being lifted.

Once again, he is left to wonder what you’re doing when he can no longer hear your moans or the guy’s stupid voice muttering: Levi’s imagined you stumbling through the narrow passage past the bathroom and towards your bed, arms snug around the guy’s chest. You’ve probably sat down, and the guy is between your legs holding your face with his hands.

Only you haven’t. Levi hears a familiar thump against the wall and his eyes widen excitedly.

“Get this shit off.” Levi hears the guy grunt unhappily, and, hey wait, when did Levi suddenly end up listening so close to the wall?

“You don’t like it?” you ask, your voice so quiet through the thin layer of brick separating you from Levi’s ear. 

“Like it better when it's not on,” the guy groans, and a few more thumps against the wall sound along with a strange dragging noise that Levi presumes might be your back. “God, you’re so hot.”

Well, that they can both agree on.

Levi closes his eyes as your voice begins to rise, foolishly high and breathy and in a way that makes Levi’s dick harden under his clothes. He pictures your face in his head, thrown back in a twist of pleasure, and fights the urge to grip his cock with his hand — he loses the battle and curses as he grabs his dick and begins to pump his wrist.

Levi leans his back against the wall and dips his head low to his chest, his eyes unwillingly fixed on the sight of his own cock hardening in his hand. Levi acknowledges that jerking off to his neighbour having a shag is a bit weird, but it could be worse, and as long as you can’t see him, he doesn’t care. 

He tightens his grip around his dick and drags his hand up and down, biting down on his lip to keep his satisfied groans from eliciting any unwanted attention.

On the other side of the wall, you feel the brick behind your head as the stranger lifts one of your legs up over his shoulder, falling to his knees like a beggar and lifting the bottom half of your skirt up over your hips. At some point during your ungracious entry into the bedroom, the man managed to slip down your panties and now has full, unrestricted access to your cunt, and wastes no time pushing his head between your thighs. 

Feeling the man’s tongue running flat up your slit, you moan breathlessly and stare up at the ceiling. You’ve fucked so many men it’s impossible to remember all of them, but you never get bored of the feeling of someone’s tongue up your pussy. Your heart stammers in your chest as you peer down at the stranger; his face is pushed between your legs and hidden from view, leaving you with nothing but dark locks of hair to gaze at, hunched shoulders and a pale hand pressing into your leg.

Admittedly, the only reasons you picked this stranger to approach in the bar had been because of the way he looked, and you close your eyes and let your jaw hang open in pleasure, all while your thoughts linger on who you pretend is between your legs instead of him. 

“You taste amazing,” the guy groans into you, and you smile pleasantly. Everybody likes being complimented, don’t they?

“Yeah?” you ask, smoothing one of your hands up around your tit, “It’s all yours.”

The guy groans, as does Levi, who’s listening so loyally that he might as well smash a hole in the wall and look through. Nothing is left to imagination anymore; it’s as if you’re narrating your night just for Levi’s sake.

“Yeah. You’re right. This pussy’s mine,” the guy laughs, nipping his teeth against your inner thigh and making you squeal unexpectedly. 

“Come on,” you rasp, worming your fingers through his twirly locks of hair with a slight grip. He winces and looks up at you from over your stomach, eyes dark and wide with the pain of your fingers tightening around his curls. “Fuck me, big guy. I want your cock.”

Levi’s wrist quickens. He blames the whiskey for the strangled little pathetic sound that burns in his throat, but there’s no way you heard it. Although these walls are so thin that he can hear every sound you make, there’s no way you can hear any of his noises. The logic defies Levi at that moment.

“God damn, you really are a needy girl, aren't you?”

No, you’re not, Levi thinks. Only you are — you grin down at the handsome man removing himself from between your legs and shuffle closer to grab a taste of yourself from his lips. He groans into your mouth, one hand on your ass and the other around the back of your neck. 

With his arms around you, the man guides you towards the end of your bed and ungracefully drops you down, groaning when you bite your bottom lip and stare up at him with an expectant look in your eyes. Levi could only dream of what makes the stranger growl like that as he strains to listen in. You open your legs to invite him in, watching as he pulls a condom from his back pocket and takes his jeans down to his ankles.

Levi’s cock is throbbing, the tip an angry shade of red as he swipes his thumb and smears a slip of pre-cum across the curved edge. Levi inhales deeply, feeling his whole body stiffen as he pulls his fist up and down, the fingers on his other hand grazing across his balls with a sensitive flush. He hears you moan outrageously loud and his wrist trembles — he must have slipped it in.

You tighten your legs around the stranger, pulling him and his dick further into your cunt, the wetness of it slippery and inviting and divinely powerful. Every man you’ve had up there has made a comment on how good it feels, and as the guy moans loudly and tells you it’s the best pussy he’s had, you think of your neighbour; his surprised expression when he saw you in the café, the way his friends threw him looks when you smiled. 

You know he’s been listening (if he hasn’t, then he’s admirably unbothered or deaf), and the thought excites you wildly.

You look beyond the man and to the wall, imagining your neighbour staring at the brick with a blank expression. Maybe he’s angry that you have another man over. You hope he is. 

Biting back a laugh, you moan for good measure and match every thrust with a sound. The guy stuffed inside of you mutters a string of curses, chest puffed with pride, oblivious to the vision you have in your head of your neighbour snug between your thighs, his face steeled into his usual displeasure. 

“Mmf, yes,” you whine, a little louder than you usually would. “Right there.”

“Say my name,” the guy growls, slapping your thigh rather sharply, “like a good girl.”

You flush, knees practically bent over to your chest as he folds you in half. For a second, you can’t even think of his name, don’t know if he ever even told you. Instead of wounding his pride, you drop a few girly moans and hope it distracts him, which it does. You wonder what would happen if you were to moan out your neighbours name — if you even knew it, that is.

“Oh, god,” you moan genuinely and close your eyes as the man sinks his cock in further. Thank goodness this man’s dick is long, you think, feeling the tip brush against a weak spot inside of you. The mattress beneath your spine is shaking uncontrollably, and the man peers down at you with a glint in his eye.

Levi’s head leans back and a breathless groan escapes — fuck, he thinks, but there’s no time to take it back, and certainly no chance he’s been heard. 

Unbeknownst to Levi, your ears prick up curiously. The man snug inside of you looks at your face with an equal amount of curiosity, his hands wide against your skin as he fucks you at an unmeasurably quick pace. It’s as if he has somewhere else to be than here, but the pressing wrinkle in his forehead deepens as he fucks you harder, nails digging into your skin, spit flying from his mouth to your breasts.

“My friend said your pussy was good, but I didn’t think it would be this good,” the guy says, his voice raspy. All you can currently focus on is the squelch between your legs, and for a hopeful sound of annoyance from your neighbour.

When nothing comes, you opt for staring up at the guy with wide eyes, as if the thought of being passed around a few friends shocks you. In actual fact, you could care less, just as long as you both feel good.

His next few thrusts knock the wind out of you, and Levi clings to those pitched sounds like they’re his new lifeline. Pumping the length of his cock with his hand, Levi clamps his eyes closed and tries not to become self-aware of what the fuck he’s doing, instead focusing all of his energy on the twisting ache in his stomach and the dull groan of his wrist bones.

What Levi does next horrifies him. His hips jerk suddenly, his breathing laboured as he imagines himself in your room between your legs. Just the thought of looming over you, chest bowed over yours, your legs over his shoulders as he sinks himself into your cunt. The look of pleasured joy on your face, that stupidly beautiful smile lifted so high. 

In the swirling darkness of his closed eyes, Levi conjures up images of you flustered and naked, covered in sweat and cum and as your breasts bounce the shine on your body curves — fucking hell, he’s in so deep, he’s so fucked.

“Oh! Oh, there, yep, there — hmpf!” 

Levi hears you so loudly that it’s as if you’re panting it in his ears. He fists his dick almost furiously, feeling the creeping heat move across his body like a wildfire. The phantom illusion of your body underneath him pulses, the feeling of your cunt wet and squishing around him feels so real he might believe it if he weren’t uncomfortably self-aware of how screwed up he is, fantasising about a girl he’s never even talked to before.

Even through the wall, Levi can hear your bed rattling against the opposite wall, each slap of skin as the stranger fucks himself into you; Levi zeros in on the sounds and produces the perfect scene in his head, one that makes his dick twitch in his hand and his feet slip slightly across the wooden floor. 

His chest rises and falls heavily, his hands trembling, his balls so sensitive he’s resorted to clinging to the wall like a rock climber with one hand while he pumps his cock with the other. Listening to you being fucked stupid is going to make him cum all over himself, and for a split second, that seems fine. That would be okay.

“Goddamn. You’re tighter than I expected,” the guy says, which sends Levi over the edge. 

He groans softly at the floor and feels his whole body trembling as the coil in his stomach suddenly releases, and a string of cum shoots from the end of his cock. Levi keeps pumping, cum falling down his hand and to the floor in a grossly filthy manner, one that he’s trying his best not to stress over as he focuses all of his energy and thoughts on the hand wrapped around his cock and how badly he wishes it was your pussy gripping him instead.

When he does open his eyes, Levi blinks away the blurry tunnel vision and tries to catch his breath, now uncomfortably aware of the sticky mess covering his hand and the floor around his feet. For a second, he feels complete bliss — until the ringing in his ears subsides and he hears you whining in that pretty fucking voice you have, and the shame washes over him like a bucket of cold water.

Levi forces himself up off the wall and stares back at it, almost as if it might transform into a window for you to gape at him, the dirty eavesdropper who just had an orgasm over a daydream and the sound of his neighbour fucking some random guy. He blinks in horror.

The guy screwing you groans like an animal — a dying animal, Levi thinks bitterly, until he realises that he’s the first person to have orgasmed in the strange threesome and he isn’t even in the room. 

Although guilt is consuming him, Levi can’t commit to pulling away yet. He might as well see it through to the end now that he’s become a part of it all.

Your cunt clenches around the guy’s cock like a vice, coaxing whatever last reserves of self-restraint he has before he grunts out a loud, “Fuck!” and slams his hips into you one last time, filling the condom with cum.

You feel the warmth bulging inside of you — lucky for someone to have gotten off in this exchange. Your pussy throbs and you squirm unhappily, hoping he might keep going.

“More?” the guy asks, breathless and shocked. “For real?”

“Mm. More, I need more,” you tell him, your walls fluttering around him. “Please, please give me more—”

No, no, no, Levi thinks in a panic. Please no more! As if being subjected to listening to some guy cumming after being in your pussy was bad enough, Levi wants nothing more than for it all to be over so he doesn’t have to listen anymore. He knows he could easily put in earphones and tune you both out, but that’s not the point. 

Still, he feels a sudden rush of bitter hatred when the guy slaps your skin and makes you whine, all before laughing and pulling out. Levi hears nothing for a moment until he hears a drawer pulling open and slamming shut, and he thinks in a hot flush that he’s about to have a terribly unhappy night listening to you getting screwed again.

You watch the stranger shake his cock for a moment once the old and used condom is off, and he quickly puts on a new one while he’s still hard and admirably shoves himself back inside. Your wet warmth welcomes him back encouragingly, and there’s no trouble keeping him hard once you’ve gripped him back inside. The man shifts himself inside of you and moves in and out, his eyes trained carefully on your face as if assessing your enjoyment. 

He creeps a hand between your legs and thumbs the hood of your pussy, and your eyes flash open with surprise at the feeling of his thumb on your clit.

“My god, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he comments, and Levi curses.

This can’t go on! Levi feels his mind reeling and he refuses to take responsibility for what his body does next; he wipes his hand on his joggers and glares at the door. Taking a few strides towards it, Levi forgets the cum on the floor and grabs one of his jumpers, pulling it over his head as he grabs his five seconds of courage by the balls and swings his door open. 

The sound of you being fucked is made even more pronounced in the hallway. Levi’s never admired his other hall-mates until now, because he knows they’re all either listening in the same horror as Levi used to or they’re out somewhere missing all of the drama. Still, Levi feels his heart thumping wildly in his chest as he raises his fist, and without thinking any of it through, he bangs his hand on your door three loud times.

The sounds cease.

Levi hears a flustered “fuck!” and a confused moan, each one from a different person, and now that he’s knocked, Levi knows if he does a runner, you’ll only know it was him when his door shuts in the now uncomfortable silence. Standing in the hallway, he knows he has to live out his embarrassment and see it through. 

The stranger pulls out of you in a fluster, staring down at you with surprise. “Should we answer it?”

You crane to listen, half-hoping it was a knock on someone else’s door and not your own, but you reluctantly glance up at him in shock and pick yourself up off the bed.

“Um…” you start, flustered and scanning the floor for something to put on. You spot your dressing gown slung over the chair at your desk and reach for it, giving the guy a pointed look as he scrambles for his underwear. You hoped it wouldn’t have, but the vibe is killed rather cruelly by whoever is banging your door so loudly. 

Tying the cord around your waist, you pass by the guy with a sheepish smile and smooth a hand across his chest. In a way, the stranger is surprisingly handsome, especially considering you only picked him out for the way his hair looked. He grins after a while and grabs his shirt, holding it in his hand as he leans to kiss your lips and slither past you.

“Lemme get it,” he suggests, already making his way to the door. You let him go without protest, simply standing to the side as he reaches the door, twists the handle and pulls it open. The map of muscles in his back tense when he sees Levi standing outside.

“Levi,” he says dumbly. Levi blinks in confusion. How does he know this guy, and more importantly, how does this guy know him? The stranger seems to pick up on his blatant confusion and shifts uncomfortably, “It’s Samuel. I live in Isabel’s flat.”

Levi visibly grimaces.

This city is just too small and he hates it so much. Why the fuck did the guy fucking you have to be someone in close connection to one of his closest friends, and why the fuck did it have to be the guy involved in the sex Levi has just jerked off to?

“We met?” Levi decides to ask.

“Not officially,” mutters Samuel.

Levi ignores him and glances back into the darkness, schooling his features into disinterest with all of his strength when he sees you standing in the shadows.

The revealing V of your dressing gown attracts his attention, his eyes trained on the curving line of your breasts pushed together by your folded arms. He looks up to your neck and face, shining with a thin sheen of sweat, and then finally acknowledges your face. 

Your makeup is smudged in a way that makes Levi’s cock twitch again, but he refuses to feed in to the pleasure he so badly wants to seek at the sight of you, fucked-out and equally surprised to see him standing like a loser in your doorway. You take a single step forward in what looks like wonder.

“What…are you doing here?” Samuel asks hesitantly.

Levi remembers he’s there and glares at him. “I live next door.”

“Oh,” says Samuel.

“I don’t care that you’re fucking. Trust me, I don’t.” He’s lying. “But can you be quiet about it?”

His voice cuts deep, making Samuel flinch, but in Levi’s peripheral he sees your face twist into an amused smile, your feet shuffling across the wooden floor to arrive by Samuel’s side.

“She’s not that loud,” Samuel attempts to say, in a pathetically unenthusiastic voice. Even he must know to an extent that you’re actually extremely loud.

Levi’s brows raise. “It’s not her I’m bothered about.”

“Oh,” Samuel says again. He turns to look at you like a deer caught in the headlights, but when his face drops at the look of amusement on your face, something tells Levi that Samuel may have expected you to defend him the way he just tried to defend you. 

Samuel’s eyes narrow and he snatches himself away from the door to find his shoes and phone. “Whatever man. She’s a slut anyway, you must be used to it by now.”

Levi hums, his eyes on you as you look back at him, unmoving, unbothered. Your eyes drop suddenly to his bottoms before pulling back up with your brows raised. After looking down with reluctance, Levi spots the cum he wiped on his joggers in a smudge across his thigh and he pauses.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He can’t think of any other words.

Samuel slips his shoes back on and levels a dirty look in your direction, but you just smile sympathetically and wish him goodnight. He mutters something rude under his breath and barges past Levi on his way out, and Levi makes a point of watching Samuel go whilst trying to pretend that neither of you has just spotted what is drying to a crusty stain on his joggers.

Levi continues to stare down the hallway even when the door has slammed shut and Samuel has disappeared, but the sound of your feet shuffling on the floor makes him look back. He must be a good actor, because your brows furrow for a moment when you lock eyes, as if you aren’t sure whether or not he’s angry.

Of course, Samuel had been right. You were a loud fuck, you were a bit of a slut, and Levi is very familiar with the guests coming and going from your bedroom. But none of that matters at all now he’s here, looking at you hidden underneath a dressing gown, your lips parted with hesitance.

Levi stares at you for a second, wondering what he could possibly say to you now that the chance is right there. He should have known he’d say something stupid — Levi copies your facial expression and clicks his tongue: “I know you can actually do better than that.”

His words take you by surprise, but he watches as your wide eyes soften and your smile twists — his stomach churns, thrilled, enamoured. If he was stupid, he’d push himself into your room and kiss you, but luckily, he’s exhausted his daily dose of stupidity and fallen back into his usual state of normalcy.

“Oh, really?” you ask sarcastically. This is the first time he’s heard you talking since your shy little hello a few days ago, and without a wall between you and some dude’s dick up your pussy. 

Levi hums, weaker than before. “Him, of all people?”

“Well, I don’t pick them for their personality,” you tell him, and he blinks as he realises that you’re actually discussing the people you bring back to your room. Levi lets it sink in until it does, deep in his stomach, and he feels his neck burning.

Suddenly, Levi is uncomfortably aware of how aware you are; you know you’re loud, and you know Levi can hear every moan and cry and whimper, every thud against the wall, every gasp of breath, every boy. And something tells him that none of that is accidental.

“...Thank god for that,” he drawls finally, his gaze hardening on your own. This time, you hum, mockingly, and tilt your head while you look at him.

Levi doesn’t know how long he stands there for. All he knows is that the tension between you is so thick it’s almost choking him. He doesn’t even know if you can feel it too — the unimaginable jolt of sexual tension coiling around his body like a snake, his whole body vibrating excitedly. 

It would be so easy to move forward towards you. Levi doesn’t even think you’d refuse him. The sultry look in your eyes is inviting, enticing, and he lets his gaze wander back to the slip of skin above your breasts before he snatches his gaze back.

“I’ll be more quiet, if that’s what you’d like,” you say after a while.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just looks at you for a second, weighing his options. Then, his gaze softens and he grunts — no. Be as loud as you want.

You seem to understand, for the smile widens into a pleased grin. “Alright. Sorry, Levi.”

He prays that you didn’t just see his body flinch as you said his name. Levi grunts again and waves his hand dismissively, turning for his room before the excitement of everything makes him become stupid again. He’s done enough stupid things today, thank you!

“Night, Y/N,” he says through clenched teeth, and if he had looked back, he would have seen the smile widen to a degree he could have never even expected, the confirmation you needed being your name on his lips, a name he would have only heard had he been listening.

Levi refuses to give in to his dumb urges and leans his back against his door when it shuts closed, listening shamefully as you hesitate before closing your door behind him. Finally, he lets out an exhausted breath and closes his eyes again.

For fuck sake. He’s a moron.

A moron who wants to fuck his neighbour, and is pretty sure that you know it.

Would you let him?

Levi stops himself from groaning like a pathetic loser when he thinks of you again, this time opening your door and letting him in, slipping the gown down your arms so that your breasts fall out for him; his hands grabbing them, pushing you back on the bed you were just being fucked on; his dick slipping inside of you, your cunt clenched around him, lips on his hands, cum filling you up like a cake, pooling out of you—

Levi feels his cock twitch again. He sighs loudly. 

He’s going to need another shower. Preferably a long cold one. Hopefully cold enough to send him into shock and kill him, just to spare him from the humiliating reality that Levi Ackerman has become an infatuated sad fuck with a raging hard crush on his stunningly sexy neighbour. 

Levi groans again. Fuck.

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman smut #aot #attack on titan #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot smut #levi smut #attack on titan smut #levi ackerman #aot levi #snk #snk imagine #aot imagine #levi imagine #jeanbie

[swiftispunk]

come back, be here | joel miller x f!reader

an in my hometown story | series music inspo

pairing: neighbour!dbf!joel miller x fem!afab!actor(ish)!reader (+ platonic!tommy and platonic!sarah)

summary: pre-outbreak/tlou. joel reckons with life in austin after you return to LA. very much set in 2002 bc it’s fun. mostly joel POV.

slight canon divergence (sarah’s mom is vaguely in the picture)

word count: 4k

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

warnings etc: smut, imo there is fluff here, angst, 10 year age gap, phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation (m+f), alcohol use, mentions of food, gratuitous time hops, payphones. NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: you guys: write domestic bliss! give them a happy ending! romantic reunion! me: *steve rogers voice* no i don't think i will long distance relationships are hard ya'll, especially undefined ones (sorry) this is a part of the IMH universe but if you wanted some depressing phone sex with pre-outbreak!joel, you could absolutely enjoy this as a standalone.

playlist standouts for this chapter are come back, be here - taylor swift and hey jane - spiritualized

Stumbled through the long goodbye One last kiss, then catch your flight Right when I was just about to fall I told myself, don't get attached But in my mind, I play it back Spinning faster than the plane that took you...

Joel tries not to call every day.

He knows you need your space, your time to thrive and work and live the life you chose, so far from home. 

Well, his home, not yours. Not anymore.

It’s usually every other day, more than that if you call with news. Not that there’s much of that; the play you'd been "starring in" had closed to the tune of some less-than-stellar reviews, you’d landed a couple regional commercials, and finally found yourself an agent that at least seemed to have your best interests at heart.

You'd called Joel to share every one of those moments with him. He’s the first person you call any time there’s something in your life worth sharing, it’s just that those instances are exceptionally rare, to say the least.

So Joel calls you mostly. In the evenings, if he’s not working late, midday if he has an hour for lunch. Once, after midnight when he’d awoken from a particularly vivid dream - one involving you in the dress you’d worn at your going-away party - he’d called you, and you’d whispered sweet nothings into the phone while Joel’d stroked himself desperately under the sheets in the desolate confines of his bedroom walls, the two of you getting off together in hushed whispers, miles apart. 

That was four months ago - and it had only happened the one time - but Joel clings to the memory like moss on a damp wall.

“Are you touchin’ yourself too?” he breathed into the phone held firmly against his ear, his fingers already wrapped around his cock, hard and leaking over his knuckles, leftover from the oh-my-god-why?-I’m-thirty-fucking-five-years-old wet dream he’d been shaken awake by.

“Yes,” you whispered back, velvet soft, sending Joel's imagination running wild at what you might have looked like, hand between your thighs, the phone tucked inside the delicate crook of your neck and pressed hotly to your ear.

“Good girl,” he hummed and he listened as you fought to contain a moan, probably fearful of one your roommates overhearing.

“Are you…are you hard for me, Joel?”

You sounded so unsure to Joel's ears, which was fair. You hadn't exactly established what the two of you were or would be after that crucial Christmas visit. So a salacious phone call in the middle of the night to tell you how he was "dreamin' about that pretty mouth of yours" probably (rightfully) caught you off guard.

Still, just the sound of your voice, playing along so willingly, had Joel groaning softly, the gravelly noise a hollow thing through the speaker of the shitty cell phone you'd been coerced into buying ("everyone here just has one, I guess").

“So fuckin’ hard for you, sweetheart. Wish you were here to feel it.”

“W-what would you do if I was?”

Fuck.

Joel picked up the pace of his strokes as he considered that, his voice growing ragged as he worked to answer your question. 

“Wanna get my hands on that pussy, baby. You all wet for me?”

You whimpered breathlessly and hummed a quiet, “Mhmm."

“How many fingers you got inside you?” he asked, focusing his grip towards the base of his cock, pausing his strokes and trying in vain perhaps to draw things out a bit, at least until he could hear your hushed response. He needed to know, needed to picture you playing with yourself on other end of the line, something that could help him feel like you were here with him, for real.

“J-just one.”

Joel threw his head back, squeezing his cock tighter and resuming his steady strokes at the image of you with a finger in your cunt, biting his lip hard when he thought of the way it would coat with your juices, how much he'd love to suck the sweet slick clean off your soaked digit.

You made him feel so fucking filthy. You made him feel like a man. He needed you here, damnit.

“Put another one.”

He wasn't sure at first if you obeyed, but then you both moaned quietly in unison, Joel pulling at his cock as you presumably added another finger. Joel could hear your breath catching in your throat, a delicious sound that made him wonder if you were curling your fingers inside yourself, like he'd have done if he were there.

"How's that feel?" he asked, voice strained.

"Mmmm, s'good, Joel," you sighed. The sound of you uttering his name in that contented, breathy hue had Joel losing his rhythm a bit - his motions now a fevered, frantic thing, too rushed. "Wish it was you, though."

You had no idea how much he wished the same thing.

"Me too, baby, me too, wanna get my mouth on you so bad." Breathless, crazed-sounding, he meant it. "Wanna taste you again."

A soft whine from you cut through the wire, making Joel's dick twitch in his palm, as he continued to pump himself with that same determined vigour.

"Remember the first time I sucked your dick?" you asked then and Joel's mouth fell open involuntarily, his hand once again freezing on his cock because he would have fucking come right then and there just at the thought of it.

It's exactly what he'd been dreaming about before he'd called you. You on your knees with your pretty dress under you, his forearms braced on the dresser he'd helped build, the way you'd looked so needy for it, like he'd been giving you the sweetest gift in the world. The way you'd looked up from under your lashes when you'd swirled your tongue around the tip.

"Think about it all the time, sweetheart," he managed to grunt softly. Truthfully.

He could never forget it.

Not that it could ever compare, but on the phone with you that night, conjuring up the memory, he flicked his thumb over the tip of his leaking cock, as though he could ever recreate the feeling of your tongue on him.

"Me too."

Joel's hips bucked up into his hand at that, another phantom memory playing at the edges of his mind - the one of you bouncing on his cock last Christmas, your shuddering form coming around him, his big hands on your back as he'd held you flush against him when you did, so he could properly feel all of it. All of you.

"You gettin' close, darlin'? Playin' with your clit?" Joel breathed into the phone, feeling his own release creeping up on him again as the reverie flashed behind his eyelids, clenched tightly shut with concentration. Trying to make sure you got there first.

"Fuck - yes," you hissed and your choked little gasps made the muscles in his guts tighten, right on the edge as the movements of his hand grew sloppier still.

But it wasn't enough. You were being so quiet.

"Let me hear you come, baby, just a little," he begged, voice wrecked, cock rigid and angry in his fist. “Let me hear those pretty sounds you make.”

It's what he missed the most, the desperate whines that had fallen from your lips when he'd had his mouth on you the last time; the prettiest, sexiest noises he'd ever heard.

Roommates be damned, if Joel was begging you for something, you were never going to deny him.

He listened as your breathing stuttered, picturing your fingers rubbing furious circles over your clit, until you let a high-pitched moan slip from you as you came.

That was all Joel needed to coax out his own climax, hot seed spilling over his knuckles - his last thought of you, bent over before him on a twin bed, that very first time.

That's his favourite call - or at least, it's the one that makes him the least miserable.

Of course, there'd also been the call that had come on New Year's Eve; he likes that one too. You'd made a point to call two hours early - your time, just to catch him right at midnight - his time.

"Happy New Year, Joel!" you'd screamed into the receiver, his face splitting into a genuine smile as he'd held the phone away from his face at the piercing sound of your voice hitting his ear drum.

"Happy New Year, sweetheart," he'd replied, heart bursting at the warmth in your tone, how thoughtful you'd been to consider the time difference. How you'd remembered him. "Bit early for you though, innit?"

"You better not be kissing anyone," you'd slurred, ignoring his question, already drunk - out somewhere, from what Joel could surmise.

"Not a chance," he'd assured you. He'd glanced over at Sarah, making sure she was still passed out on the couch beside him before going on,

"I'd kiss you if you were here, though."

He'd said it softly, so as not to wake her. Meanwhile, Dick Clark had quietly shined on the TV, casting blue and white light across Joel's dark living room as the big ball had touched down in Times Square.

"Me too," you'd said, and Joel could hear the truth in your voice. His chest had throbbed in time with the distant boom of fireworks outside his window, each one like a bomb going off in his gut. If you were home you'd hear them too, but through the phone, there's just Joel.

"Here's to a good year," Joel'd said, not an ounce of hope in the declaration, toasting to no one with the beer in his hand.

You'd just sighed, long and anguished.

'Cause in the beginning, in the days following that Christmas visit, there had been lots of days you'd called with tears in your voice, sobbing into the phone about long working hours, or some new rift with your roommates or - the calls he'd selfishly longed for - how much you missed him.

"I'm trying so hard, Joel," you'd cry, while he'd fight to stay composed, just listening patiently and offering comfort where he could.

"I know, baby, I know."

"Maybe I should just give up."

Yeah, you should. Come home. Be here.

"No, you can't, sweetheart," he'd say instead. "You just gotta keep goin'."

"I miss you so much," you'd sigh in that bleak, cracked, longing way, shattering Joel's heart into jagged shards every damn time.

"I miss you too, baby." Please come back. It's not too late.

Those calls don't come so much anymore, as you'd thrown yourself into your work, and time had pulled you further and further from the memory of your last visit to Austin.

Time.

Joel feels frozen in it, while it just keeps moving ahead for you.

The days he doesn’t call are boring and long, repetitive and lonely save for the time he gets with Sarah. He works the same jobs, eats the same food, drinks the same coffee. Feels the same anxious pang when you don’t call first and it has to be him, again. 

Sometimes he’ll go by your dad’s, but that’s less often now, ever since he and Tommy had finished up the renovations in the attic.

God, the attic job. That had proven to be an exceptionally awkward thing, considering it had come hot on the heels of the Inevitable Talk with your father. A talk that Joel had been expecting, but which had still turned out to be painfully uncomfortable nonetheless.

Although not necessarily what he’d imagined.

Your dad had shown up at his side door after dropping you at the airport. He hadn’t seemed angry, so Joel had led him in the door and offered him a beer, which your dad had accepted with a reverent, “Yeah.”

Yeah, Joel too.

Joel’d stared at the wood on the kitchen table, and like he couldn’t help himself, broke the silence before your dad could.

“How’d, uh - how’d she seem?”

Your dad’d sighed, taking a long sip of beer.

“Sad,” he’d said.

“Look - ”

But Joel’d been cut off by Sarah coming in the front door then, home right on time from soccer practice. Her eyes had widened as she’d assessed the scene, who Joel had been sitting across from.

“I’m…just gonna be in my room,” she’d muttered awkwardly.

“There’s mac and cheese on the stove," Joel'd told her.

Wasting no time, she'd snatched the entire pot off the hob and slinked quickly out of the room, shooting Joel this knowing glance on the way that seemed to say, good luck - sorry. And also - we'll talk later.

Your dad’s eyes had followed her out of the kitchen as she’d went.

“She’s a good kid,” he’d said.

“Yeah, she is."

"S'funny a thing, havin' kids..." your dad'd started.

Christ, here it comes.

"You wanna protect 'em," he'd continued, tone level but still managing to fill Joel with a healthy sense of dread. "But you also gotta trust 'em. And respect 'em enough to respect their decisions."

A beat.

"Even the wrong ones."

Joel'd cleared his throat, shifting in his seat uneasily.

"That what I am?" he'd asked. "The wrong decision?"

Your dad had shook his head.

"I wasn't talkin' about you."

That had Joel finally looking up from the table to stare at the man in confusion. What had he been suggesting then?

"She shouldn't be out there in California," your dad'd said with another shake of his head and a sip of his beer.

That had taken Joel aback momentarily.

"You don't think she can do it?" Joel'd asked, brows furrowing.

"No, she probably could. If she actually wanted to."

Joel'd just stared back at him, that same dumbfounded look on his face.

"She's determined," your dad had grumbled. "Too proud. She decided she wanted to go out there and do this and now she thinks she can't back out. I'm not sayin' she's not good. I'm just sayin' I don't think it's where her heart's at."

"So where's it at then?" Joel'd asked.

Your dad had just given Joel this knowing look.

You know where it is, dumbass.

"Right," Joel'd replied, around another mouthful of beer. Then, for the first time since he'd met your dad, Joel'd turned on his very best let-me-date-your-daughter Texan manners.

"Listen, sir, I wasn't tryna complicate anything here," he'd said. "The whole thing just - it got away from me."

That was something of an understatement.

"She said you tried to be responsible. What's'at mean?"

Joel'd taken another sip of beer, smiling in spite of himself at the thought of you trying to protect him.

"Guess it means I always knew where this was gonna go," Joel'd postulated. "She didn't wanna overthink things."

Joel'd bristled at the memory - "We don't have to overthink any of this, Joel" - so many months ago now, your arms wrapped around him from behind, face pressed into his back. Course, by then it had already been too late, Joel having already envisioned a whole new life for you after that first kiss on the deck - one where you never left, one where you stayed here with him, slotting into his life with ease. A cursed vision, one he'd known would never be.

How could he not have overthought things? Joel, unlike you, lived in the real world.

"That was your first mistake, buddy," your dad'd said with a shake of his head.

Didn't Joel know it. He'd nodded his agreement.

"You know somethin', Joel? I actually think you'd be real good for her. You're a good man - stable. And you got a lotta love for your kid."

Joel had waited for the inevitable "but" and your dad hadn't disappointed -

"But you gotta give her space now. If she wants to come back, she will. You understand?"

Yeah, he gets it.

Doesn't mean he's gonna listen.

So he doesn’t cross the street much these days.

He would lie and say he’s just been too busy with Sarah or Tommy or work but you’d know the truth if he ever bothered to tell you. 

He doesn’t go because it hurts. He doesn’t go because the driveway’s where he kissed you and your bedroom’s where his initials are carved into the dresser and the back deck’s where the whole damned ordeal began. 

The more time passes, the less he wants to think about any of it.

-

But then there's the call that comes today.

The droning of the buzz saw drowns out the sound of the phone ringing. It also drowns out Tommy's booming voice, calling Joel's name over and over.

"Joel!" he yells again, this time with a firm hand on Joel's shoulder where he works over the plywood, which finally gets the older Miller's attention.

"What?" Joel shouts back, glancing cautiously over his shoulder, voice rising over the metallic hum of the saw. But Tommy is giving him the signal to shut the thing off, phone in hand - which is what ultimately ends up holding Joel's attention.

He clicks off the saw, removing his protective goggles and repeating himself, quieter now - "What?"

"Phone's for you," Tommy says with a lop-sided grin. Easy enough to guess who's calling then.

"She called the damn work site?" Joel asks, surprised you'd managed to track them down. They're working a job up in Georgetown, some wealthy suburbanite paying big money for easy work.

Tommy just shrugs.

Joel snatches the phone from his brother and holds it up to his ear, with a gruff, "Hello?" before tuning into the crackling sound of music playing and glass clattering and voices chattering and you, loudly talking into the other end -

"Joel!" you say - almost shout. "Are you there, can you hear me? I'm at a payphone, the stupid cell phone died!"

He steps away from the work site, trying - on his end at least - to quiet some of the background noise.

"Yeah, yeah I can hear ya fine, are you okay?"

The midday calls are rare and your voice sounds so frantic - he can't help it; worry's the first place his mind goes.

"I got a job, Joel! I got an arc!" you say excitedly then, voice just barely rising over the clamorous bedlam behind you.

"You got a what, now?" Joel asks, sticking a finger in his one ear to hear you better.

"A three-episode arc on a TV show! Oh - shit - one sec - "

Some rustling on the other end as you disappear momentarily, and then a murmured, "Thanks" that sounds like you but far away, and then you're back with a, "You still there?"

Joel furrows his brows, trying to make sense of it all.

"Where're ya at right now?"

"I'm out celebrating!" you shriek. "Didn't you hear what I said?"

Not really, but -

"I - yeah I heard, three episodes, that's - that's amazing, sweetheart."

Then there's another voice cutting through the wire - male, drunk.

"Eyyyyy! Let me buy you a drink, baby girl! This is HUGE!"

Joel hears your responding giggle, along with the sound of fabric brushing against fabric (an embrace) and glass tapping glass (cheers).

"I'll be right there!" you tell the faceless voice.

"Whoz'at?" Joel grumbles, his grip on the phone tightening as he bites back the stupid, hot, festering jealousy suddenly brewing in his belly.

"Nobody - well, Adam - he works with my agent, they're throwing this like, brunch party thing for me."

Weird, because you've never mentioned him to Joel before.

She's not yours, idiot, he tells himself.

"Nice," is the best response he can come up with.

"Well, anyway, I just wanted you to be the first to know," you say then - your voice oozing devotion - but not enough to quell the twisted knife of envy digging bitterly in Joel's core.

"Seems like Adam already knew."

God-fucking-damnit.

Why'd he say that? Does he seriously think he's entitled to every morsel of information in your life? Over some kid you work with and that he doesn't even fucking know?

Apparently, yeah.

You're quiet for a moment and Joel would've wondered if the payphone had run out of minutes if not for the noisy bar din still echoing through the receiver.

"I meant the first person back home," you amend, and Joel kicks himself when he hears the tinge of hurt in your tone.

Joel clears his throat, instantly ashamed of the senseless reaction.

"Well, I - I'm glad you did, sweetheart," he says, trying his damndest to soften the edge in his voice.

"Okay - um, shit - it's asking me for more quarters, I'm all out. Can I call you tomorrow?"

"You can call me any time you want, darlin'."

"Bye, Joel."

"Bye - "

He's cut off as the line disconnects, out of time.

-

Sleep evades Joel that night.

Three episodes on a TV show. What would that mean? How long would that steal you from him? How many more months till you came home again?

He morosely ponders the thought with his head in his hands, hunched over where he sits on the edge of his bed, fingers dragging over the skin of his face as though he could scrape away the memory of the phone call like a pesky scab.

"Dad?"

Sarah's voices comes softly through his bedroom door, shaking him hastily out of his dreary reverie.

"You still up?" she asks, letting herself in the open door.

Joel shakes his head disapprovingly, offering her a soft smile.

"I should be askin' you that."

Should being the operative word. He should be attending to his daughter, not moping uselessly after you.

Instead, as ever, it's Sarah who's looking out for him, joining him on the edge of the bed and leaning into his side.

"You okay?" she asks, head on Joel's shoulder.

"Yeah," Joel mumbles, voice thick.

Keep it together, he tells himself. Sarah doesn't need to see you cry.

"Yeah, m'alright," he says, sounding anything but.

"Wow, well, I'm convinced," Sarah quips, wrapping her little arms around his waist and Joel can hear her rolling her eyes. "I know you talked to her today, she called here first; I told her where you guys were."

He should've known it was her who'd put you in touch with him. And man, the kid's too insightful for her own good. He's not sure where she gets that from, 'cause he doesn't think it's from him.

"I know it's sucky right now," she continues soothingly. "But it's gonna get better."

Joel clears his throat at the simple sentiment, trying to believe it.

"You think so?" he says, emotion coating his tone as he squeezes her in a little tighter against him.

"Yeah, I do," she responds, sitting up and away from him then. "Or, just a thought...you could be all romantic and actually go see her."

Joel's shaking his head before she can finish speaking - as if he hadn't already considered that dozens of times.

"And leave you here all alone? Come on."

They share a smirk but then Sarah shrugs.

"Just sayin'. I think you should do it."

His smile shifts to something more placating, willing her to understand how much more complicated things were than that.

"It's late, you should go to bed."

"Okay, but only if you do too."

"Deal."

-

He's dreaming again.

Of you, of course.

But it's not like the other times; you're not on your knees in front of him or sitting on his cock or bent over the twin bed under a canopy of glow-in-the-dark stars.

No, this time, you're locked in a tight embrace on the side of the interstate, as though you'd met him halfway somewhere at a lonely truck stop, hands interlocked behind his neck, while his grip your waist tightly. He's breathing in your scent, committing it to memory because he knows he'll have to leave again soon - always losing you, always saying goodbye.

Except...no. This time, there's something new. Dread is replaced by a sense of permanence as the truck stop melts away and there you both are again, safe in your driveway, bodies still entwined but never breaking. No incessant honking forcing you apart, no one-way flight waiting to take you away.

It doesn't have to end.

He jolts awake, the stand-up fan beside his bed cooling his clammy skin and making him shiver involuntarily.

Fuck it, he decides then.

He grabs the phone off the nightstand and makes a call.

Please be awake, please be awake, please be awake -

"'Lo?" Tommy's voice comes through the other end, gooey with sleep and laced with mild concern. Joel checks the time on his alarm clock - 2 a.m.

"Tommy, do I ask you for anything, ever?"

"Uh...no?"

Stupid, stupid, stupid, this is the stupidest thing you've ever fucking done -

"Can you watch Sarah for a few days?"

"Uh...why?"

"I'm goin' to California."

-

You took a call then you ran all day That clock goin' 110 I never said I'd get you back again Said "I ain't got time to make no mistakes" "Ain't got time to waste my brakes"

END.

in my hometown taglist -

@blkcali @erikelovesdin @luvrking @ barbellpedro @bellath @readz4u @casserole20 @sexygaypalpatine @poopeshites @amelie-712 @livinxdeadxgrl @honeymarvel @azurapphire @wroetospidey @freeobservationtale

@tieronecrush @illgowithufren @shehads-world @atremises @gabywho @detectivedaughter @wroetospidey @baddiesforcorpse @grippingbeskar @halseyhoodjpg @soph55 @pedritosdarling @obsessedwithjustaboutanything @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @pedgito @evyiionee @rogersbarnesxx @mo0nfleur @slut-4-multifandoms @stevie75 @b-y-3-n @joelscruff @sl-ut @tinygarbage @pedropascll

@denialismysanctuary @nightdreamss @notpetewentz @bigboiseason123 @witheldclouds @xxmr-potato-headxx @harryhubba @cyberfa1ryar1 @pedrosballsack @thevelvetrevivall @somesaltycorner @marysheperdith @midnightswithdearkatytspb @kaeferandplaza @life-in-the-city @cowgirl---bebop

@zhxw @averagedilfenjoyerr @pointlessandfutile @iso-la-ti-on

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #pre outbreak joel miller #dbf!joel #tlou fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #in my hometown #joel miller drabble #joel doesn't think sarah got her insightful nature from him but we know better #our do boy be noticing things

[raplinesmoon]

Taking Chances (KSJ X F!Reader)

pairing: lawyer!Seokjin x journalist!reader

genres/aus/rating: exes to roommates to lovers, fluff, angst, pg

summary: Eight years apart and now you and Seokjin are in the same city again. When a beautiful apartment presents too good of an opportunity to pass up for both of you, you decide to take the plunge, and embark on a new relationship - this time as roommates.

warnings: talks of breakups, regret, pining, sassy bro!Namjoon, reader gets sick and Seokjin takes care of her, bed sharing (not like that!), kissing, alcohol mentions, swearing, a cute mischevious cat, angsty with a happy ending!

word count: 5.8k

a/n: This gift was created through @bangtansecretsanta and is for @jinsquishes​. Surprise! I’m your Bangtan Secret Santa! Nixie, I’m so sorry for being such a snowflake (get it?) and sending this too you so late djkskskdks. I know you like roommate fics, so I put a little twist on it! It was lovely chatting with you and I hope you like it and feel all the warm fuzzies! This was inspired by a book I recently read called House Rules by Ruby Lang and the premise was too cute to pass up! Also, the dress OC wears is inspired by this one, which is currently hanging in my closet and I’m looking for a holiday party to wear it to lmao

Seokjin had finally had enough. His ears felt like they were about to bust open any second now, not that it meant anything to his abhorrent neighbours. The drilling noises continued, the young, newlywed couple completely oblivious to the fact that it was nearing 12am and now might not have been the best time to put together their new Ikea furniture.

He could maybe have forgiven them if it was their first week in the next-door apartment, the two of them lost in scramble of moving boxes and building a desk, chair, or whatever they decided they were missing. But it’d been like this for six months. Six months that had shattered his peace in the apartment that Jin had previously lived in for eight years, both with you, and by himself. In all that time, he’d never considered leaving. Until now.

It’d been a stupid decision, one made on a whim when he decided to go tour the old, weathered brownstone that had just popped up on the market in his neighbourhood. He’d been sick of the noise, and the idea of a bright, new apartment seemed like a dream, one where hopefully there weren’t any annoying neighbours. The walls were full of exposed brick, the sunlight filtered in even on a bright, snowy day, and it was big. Bigger than he needed as a single, unmarried, thirty something to be honest, but more space never hurt. 

But then he heard the broker, Jimin, usher someone new in to the viewing, and just as quickly as his dream sprung up, it was shattered. Because he’d only caught the faintest glimpse of the threadbare brown coat you’d loved so much, and the tell-tale fringe of your scarf that he’d gifted you for your very first anniversary, but Jin knew it was you.

His ex-fiancée. Or was that even the right term when it’d been eight years since you broke up? When Seokjin had spent almost nearly as much time apart from you as he had with you? 

He ducks into one of the bedrooms, out of Jimin’s sight, and sucks in a sharp breath, blinking and shaking his head. Who was he kidding? That coat could belong to anyone, anyone could own that scarf. Not just the former love of his life who as far as he knew, had faded into obscurity after dropping out of law school. Who probably moved halfway across the world just to avoid the sight of him. The person who he’d once shared an entire life with, and now they had nothing left in common.

Seokjin shivers as he stares outside the window, watching the snow fall down, a colourless shroud, and he grits his teeth. The journey home would not be fun.

Hearing shuffling behind him, he turns, thinking it’s Jimin coming to ask him what he thinks, but he’s met with a small gasp.

“Jin,” you whisper softly. “I knew it was you.”

And before Seokjin can react, you’re pulling him into you, tucking your head into his shoulder, and he’s breathing in your faint soapy smell, reminded of the shampoo you used to love so much. The wool of your scarf doesn’t feel as scratchy as he remembers, and he’s comforted by its familiar presence, by your familiar presence in his arms. It’s been too long.

“You moved back,” he mutters into your hair, and immediately you freeze, pulling back, eyes on the floor.

“I found a new job,” you tell him, and as much as Seokjin wants to press, he doesn’t. He doesn’t feel like he has a right to ask, to know about your life not that you’re not together anymore. So instead, he remains silent, taking you in. 

You hadn’t changed much. You looked older, maybe a few more lines on your face, but your eyes were still the same. That smile was still the same, and he knew he had to be careful around it.

“How are we doing in here, oh—”

Jimin takes that moment to walk in, his eyes glinting with questions as he takes in the two of you, so close yet standing apart, and he raises an eyebrow.

“We knew each other,” Seokjin steps in, immediately wanting to diffuse the awkward tension. “She’s my ex-w–”

You look at him, eyes glassy and in shock. He’d been about to say wife. Because you had been, almost. There had only been a few months to the wedding when you’d decided to go, sending Seokjin off over a cup of coffee on a chilly autumn day in the park.

“Well, it sounds like you have a lot to think about,” Jimin chuckles before retreating, and Seokjin knows he’s not just talking about the apartment.

It’s only natural for him to chase you down after you’ve both left, following you into a nearby cafe.

Turning on your heel, you look at the sight of your ex, still as handsome as ever with his wool coat and snow in his hair, and you let out a big sigh. You weren’t going to hate him. You didn’t hate him.

“What do you want?” you blurt out, and Seokjin recoils briefly, in shock at your question before straightening.

“An espresso,” he responds, and you grin.

“You used to be more of a latte man, what happened?” you ask.

“I don’t know, I guess I just got a lot more bitter,” he grunts, and you let out another heavy sigh.

“I know you have questions Jin, and I want to answer them, I really do, but can we just sit here for a bit? And drink our coffee first?”

And so you do, the two of you sipping on the hot drinks, taking each other in for the first time in many years. You know Seokjin isn’t actually upset with you, that it was more the shock speaking for him. He’d barely raised his voice at you when you left, nodding along quietly and watching you go without a word. You made no promises to him, and he didn’t make any to you.

You tried your hardest to keep up with him back then, but law school had sucked the life out of you. While Seokjin had been everyone’s favourite, the star pupil and class president, you were just… there, right next to him. It had been your own guilt and unhappiness that had driven you away, never anything to do with him. But Seokjin was stubborn, persistent that you could stay, that things would work out on their own. 

“There was no other option,” you tell him quietly, and he nods over the cup of coffee, looking out the window, and you so desperately want him to look at you instead. 

“Don’t you get it?” you want to scream at him, but keep your voice level. “I had to drop out, I had to go find my own way, to travel, to figure out what really made me happy?”

“And are you?” Seokjin interrupts. “Happy, I mean?”

You pause, not knowing how to answer him.

“What about you?” you fire back. “You’ve lived in the apartment for years, even before me. What makes you want to move now?”

“I’ve stayed there for too long. It used to feel like home… now it just feels like a rut. One that I can’t get out of, no matter how hard I try. But you wouldn’t understand, would you? You never wanted to stay.”

You square your shoulders, sitting up straight. You couldn’t keep up this conversation. You hadn’t been able to have it eight years ago, and it was far too late for it now. Instead, you needed a place to live, to turn over a new leaf, and it seemed like Seokjin did too. Which brought you to why the two of you were even here together in the first place.

“I want that apartment, Seokjin. I know you want it too, I saw it in your eyes. We both need this. But I can’t afford it. Not on my own.”

“What are you asking?” Seokjin says, his eyes turning dark.

“Kim Seokjin, I’m asking you to be my roommate.”

This was insane, Seokjin thinks as he packs up the last of his kitchen supplies, surrounded by boxes. This has to be the most insane thing he’d ever done.

He’d called Namjoon over a dozen times the past week since he’d met you in the coffee shop, ranting to his brother about the odd proposal you’d given him.

“Is she still the same?” Namjoon echoed over the phone, disdain lacing his voice. He hadn’t been the biggest fan of you leaving his older brother broken hearted. 

“That doesn’t matter, what matters is what I’m supposed to do about this!” Seokjin spits into the line, feeling his face grow hot.

“Easy, just say no,” Namjoon responds. “Exes are bad news, hyung. It’s not worth getting caught up with any of them, no matter how good the relationship used to be.”

Seokjin pauses for a second. Namjoon had made it sound so easy. Just saying no. But what complicated things was the fact that it was you he was saying no to. 

Seokjin knew you left on your own accord. He knew you needed to find a sense of purpose, one that didn’t revolve around just him and law school, and getting married. But that didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt. 

When he’d seen you again, he’d imagined, for a brief moment, the years that had been lost between you. The ones you could have spent living together, waking up to each other every day. Burning toast on Sunday morning, putting up Christmas trees every winter, dancing as the snow fell outside. And here you were, offering him a chance to maybe, just maybe get those lost years back. Or whatever shreds of them he could recover.

“You can’t say no, can you?” Namjoon says over the phone, defeat in his voice, and Seokjin realizes he’s been silent for too long. 

“I didn’t fight for her when I should have, Namjoon-ah, I can’t miss that opportunity again.”

The words come back to him as he sits in the kitchen alone. Looking around, he realizes how few boxes he actually had. He thought most of his life had been in this apartment, but the more he thought about it, he realized he was never really attached to the things here. It was more the memories, or lack of them that he had, living here by himself, trying too hard to get over you.

He’d never brought a date home here. Namjoon refused to visit, and Seokjin had just stopped asking, fitting seamlessly into the fabric of the lives of those around him, while never pausing to think about his own. 

A knock at the door breaks him out of his thoughts, and he opens it to find the movers. As he watches them lift up the things, he’s surprised by how light he feels. Maybe letting go wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“You have a big, strong, handsome ex fiancé moving in with you, and you still choose to bring up your own things why?” Nixie, your best friend, groans as she carries up another box, plopping it into your room. 

You’d chosen the smaller of the two, while Seokjin got the bigger one, knowing he put more money towards the rent from his job. 

“Because he’s not my anything, he’s my roommate, and we don’t owe each other anything,” you tell her. 

“Not to burst your bubble ___, but most people don’t exactly end up shacking up with their former fiancé and expect to be just roommates.”

“Well we are,” you brush her off, and she turns to start unloading stuff into the closet. “We have completely different lifestyles. He works at an office, I work from cafes and libraries or at home. He works during the day, I’m most productive at night. We’ll barely run into each other.”

And you hadn’t, so far. Seokjin had moved in quietly when you weren’t there, his stuff magically appearing in the living room one day. You hadn’t seen him around since, but you figured he was probably living with his brother until your contract officially started.

The two of you had decided to give it six weeks, right until the New Year. Six weeks of living together, seeing if you could tolerate each other. If it didn’t work out, Seokjin had graciously agreed to move out, and help you find a new roommate. 

It sounded so foolproof when you thought of it in your head. 

“Okay, I trust that you know what you’re doing,” Nixie says. “After all, we’re not the same as we were eight years ago.”

The two of you chat for a little longer before she has to leave to her own place, and you’re left on your own. A few hours pass, and you’re finally done unpacking most of your room when you hear the jangling of keys, and the door creak open. 

The sound of boots echoes in the hallway, and you know it’s Seokjin. You hide underneath the covers on your mattress, not wanting him to know you’re awake. 

He shuffles around in the kitchen for a little bit, and then it falls silent. Thinking the coast is clear, you tiptoe outside your room, searching for a drink of water, when you see him slumped on the living room floor, his head in his hands.

Your face softens at his serious figure, and you walk over to him, plopping down next to him. He shifts slightly, his eyes widening in surprise at your presence, and you look down to see that you’d never changed out of your bunny printed pyjama shorts.

Clearing your throat, you speak softly, afraid to put him even more on edge.

“I realize that this was maybe unfair of me to ask you for, but you were the only person I could think of that wouldn’t try to accidentally hit on me and then poach the lease right out of my hands.”

Seokjin chuckles at that, turning to look at you.

“You don’t have to worry about me hitting on you, I’m too old for that.”

“We’re the same age.”

“Is this really a good idea, ___? Us?” He asks softly.

You freeze. There was no “us” between the two of you. There hadn’t been for a long time. But maybe there could be. A new version of normal, one where you and Seokjin lived happily together yet apart, content with your lives.

“I don’t know,” you tell him. “All I know is that being here, in this space, I feel happy for the first time in a long time. Like my life is finally falling into place. And I don’t want that feeling to stop, even after the six weeks are over.”

Seokjin freezes next to you, and he knows you’re not talking about him, but he imagines you could be. 

“It’s going to take some time for me to adjust to this,” he says.

“Me too. We’ll try our best. That’s all we can do, right?”

I tried my best, the words ring in Seokjin’s ears. The same ones you told him when you said you were leaving. 

“Right.”

As December settles in, Seokjin thinks he could get used to the idea of living here. The home is so inviting, the crown bricks covered in snow making him think of Santa’s house in all those Christmas movies he’d watched as a kid. Every evening when he’d get inside after work, he would smell coffee, knowing you’d probably just left to the library to continue your work. 

It was quiet, and he was content. Until you stopped him one day in the kitchen, up before he was, shoving a plate full of cheese and crackers towards him.

“I want to get a cat.”

“You don’t have to ask me to get a cat,” he grumbled. “We’re adults.”

“I know, but you’re my roommate and it’s common courtesy. I saw one I’d like to adopt near the end of this week. He’s older, and they said he was super quiet. I’ll keep the litter box in my room.”

And that was how Seokjin also became roommates with Cheese. As much as he tried to ignore the little rascal, Cheese would always curl up next to him at the most random times, purring when Seokjin gave him scratches on the head. 

He adjusted to you and Cheese better than he thought. The two of you were friendly, pausing to chat briefly at random points when you’d bump into each other during the day, oftentimes when one of you was leaving and the other was returning.

Seokjin even shared his wine collection with you, telling you that you could help yourself to any of the expensive bottles. Maybe it was the giving holiday spirit. Maybe it was just you making him soft. 

You’d started waking up earlier, leaving him a little pile of cut up fruit on the counter every morning, the oranges peeled just the way he liked them, which only you’d ever been able to do. 

But it never went beyond that. Seokjin still didn’t know who you were, what you did. And you kept your distance. Sometimes when he’d see you coming back from a trip outside, he resisted the urge to smooth down your frazzled hair after you’d taken your hat and scarf off, but he stopped himself.  He also stopped himself from staring for too long when you’d wear those forsaken bunny printed pyjama shorts, trying not to focus on how good your butt looked. 

It was a silly little crush on his roommate, he brushed it off in his mind. He’d get over it.

It was the week before Christmas, and you were in hustle mode. Your editor wanted you to get the latest piece to him in time for Christmas Day, so you’d been holed up in the library, writing away on your laptop and downing copious amounts of cofffee. 

You’d managed to get through about four pages of writing before the pain in your stomach set in. Grimacing, you brace an arm around your middle, hobbling to the bathroom before the cramps take over, and you stumble, crashing to the floor. You dial Nixie, but it’s late and she doesn’t pick up. Scrolling through your phone, you resign yourself to putting in Seokjin’s number, relieved when he picks up on the first ring even though he should be at work.

“Can you come and get me please?”

Seokjin’s face was as pale as a ghost when he found you lying on the library bathroom’s floor, passed out. You stir as reaches around you, supporting you with one arm as the two of you rise.

“I’m so sorry,” you croak out. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Please stop apologizing,” he says softly. “It’s not your fault.”

You don’t know if he’s talking about you getting sick or something else. His warm arms come around you as he walks the two of you to his car, placing you gently in the passenger seat and turning on the heating so you wouldn’t freeze. The entire ride, his hand remains on your thigh, the burn of his hand on the fabric of your jeans almost as prominent as the nauseating sensations you were experiencing in your stomach. He doesn’t ask, just glances over occasionally when the car stops to see your eyes flutter shut, and the rest of the ride is quiet.

You wake up enough for him to drag you up the stairs, before turning and closing yourself into the bathroom, sobbing under the heat of the shower. Everything ached. From the cramps to your own heart, it all hurt. And the only thing that made it better was Seokjin. But you’d lost him, and now you couldn’t go back to the way things were before. You begin to question why you’d even wanted him to live with you in the first place, knowing that you’d inevitably desire his comforting touch again. He made you feel safe. He made you feel loved, and despite being happy, you hadn’t felt that way in so long. 

When you slip out of the shower in fresh pyjamas, he’s there, sitting on your bed. You don’t get angry with him for letting himself into your room, instead sitting next to him on the bed. He doesn’t ask questions, just drawing your hand into his own.

“You know if you ever need anything, I’m here,” he says into the darkness.

“Can you stay with me?” you ask, pulling him into you until his chest is resting against your back, feeling the rough scratch of his crisp white dress shirt, and in seconds, you’re asleep.

You sleep better than you’ve slept the entire time you’ve been in the apartment. But it makes no difference when you wake up alone, Cheese eyeing you curiously. Seokjin was gone.

“I can’t do this,” Seokjin rubs in between his eyebrows, staring at Namjoon with bloodshot eyes over his brunch. He’d left early, before you could even wake up, his heart turning over and over in his chest at the sight of you seeming so small, so vulnerable, doubled over in pain. He knew it was probably nothing to be worried about, but when it came to you, Seokjin couldn’t help but worry. 

“You still love her,” Namjoon says, and he doesn’t sound disappointed. His voice is even, flat with acceptance.

“Is it crazy of me to think that it just wasn’t the right time? That we both needed to grow up and figure out our lives? I mean, we were barely about to graduate. Of course we didn’t know what the fuck we were doing. No one does at that age.”

“But she left,” Namjoon interjects, his eyes full of concern. “She left, and maybe she did change, hyung. Maybe she’s better for it. But you, you just let her hurt you. You stayed the same, for so many years, going to work every day, making money, never letting anyone else in. And now, all of a sudden, she’s back, and you’re acting all different, being friends with her. My question is why.”

Seokjin wonders the same thing, why he’s able to be so attached to you after so many years apart.. You needed time, you needed space, you needed to feel like your own person. And Seokjin could accept all that. But he always thought he’d done something to drive you away. And then he remembers it’s because never once, in the four hour long conversation where the two of you had said goodbye, had you said it was because you didn’t love him. In fact, you’d said it three times exactly - once at the very beginning, one time in the middle, and right at the end.

He straightens up, and a warm, fizzy feeling runs through his veins. The last thing you had said was “I love you.” And now here you were, eight years later, by his side again. Was it crazy to think it was because you still loved him too?

The dress was green, with glittering sequins in the shape of stars. It was breathtaking. And now it was lying on your bed. 

“Come with me to my work holiday party?” Seokjin had asked earlier in the week, and you don’t know what had possessed you to say yes. You’d softened towards him considerably ever since he’d taken care of you while you were sick, not saying anything when he slipped into your bed in the middle of the night, but not pushing him away either.

You still were afraid to talk about it. Afraid that he wouldn’t forgive you for running away, for putting yourself over the relationship. Even though you knew you weren’t selfish, the mere though of Seokjin ever seeing you as such pained you.

And now here you were, his date to a swanky holiday party. When you’d asked why, he’d laughed it off, saying last minute dates were a hot commodity, and he didn’t want to have to resort to Tinder. A pang of jealousy bubbled up in your chest at the thought of Seokjin with a younger, prettier girl on his arm, and you’d sulkily made up your mind that going with him was best. However, putting on the stunning dress and having the experience of Seokjin nearly stumbling while lacing his dress shoes made you feel a tiny bit better.

You watch the people around you swarm and flock to each other, exchanging hugs and holiday wishes, and painfully miss Seokjin’s presence next to yours, keeping your beating heart calm. As if he sensed your discomfort, he’s there in the next minute, holding out a drink for you. You accept, hoping the alcohol will calm your nerves.

You feel out of place here. This was Seokjin’s wheelhouse, Seokjin’s territory. He’d always been the people pleaser, while you preferred to hang back. 

An older couple comes up to you, and Seokjin straightens up, putting his drink down and greeting the man with a handshake.

“This is my boss, Mr. Nam,” he says, faltering when he turns to introduce you. “And this is ___, she’s my, uh—, we’re, she’s my—”

“Roommate,” you interject quickly.

“Ahhhh so you’re together then?” The woman you assume is Mrs. Nam claps her hands together in delight. 

“No no no!” Seokjin tries to manage the messy misunderstanding. “We live together. As in just one together. Together-ish.”

A smile slips onto your lips when you see his ears redden in frustration, and you give his hand a squeeze. Mr. and Mrs. Nam catch sight of your clasped hands and smilen again, before saying how wonderful it was to meet you and excusing themselves to get some food.

“No need to be nervous,” you tell Seokjin after they’ve left. “It’s just me.”

“Yeah, it’s just you,” Seokjin echoes, and there’s a far away look in his eyes, one you can’t place. “Should we go out to the balcony?”

He leads you along, his hand tucked into the curve of your waist, and you bump into more people, Seokjin recovering and introducing you without the roommate title. It all feels surreal, like a dream you never dared yourself to have, and you reflect on how this could have been the life you had together, if things hadn’t come apart.

When you’re outside, you begin to shiver, and Seokjin eases his coat off, and you dodge it, telling him you’re fine, the two of you dancing awkwardly around each other. After a few moments, you begrudgingly accept the coat, sinking into its warmth and breathing in Seokjin’s clean smell.

“You’ve changed a lot, ___,” he says. “You seem calmer. Happier. You really like writing, don’t you?”

You want to act shocked that he finally figured out what your mystery job was, but you knew he would. Seokjin knew you too well, and there was a point where he’d known you better than you’d know yourself.

“What about you?” you respond. “Big hotshot lawyer, finally fulfilling all those ambitions you had for yourself–”

“For us,” he cuts you off. “I had them for us.”

“And I ruined them, right? By leaving,” you voice shrinks, and you feel tears perk up at the back of your throat. 

“Maybe it was good for me,” he says, looking out onto the city. “Maybe I had to learn how to be myself without you too.”

“Not everything has to be a lesson, Jin,” you tell him. “Not everything has to mean something grand and philosophical. You’re allowed to miss it. To miss us. I miss it too. Sometimes I wake up in my bed, with Cheese, and it doesn’t even feel real that you’re here with me again, right down the hall. How we’re both the same, yet different in so many ways. And it scares me because even though living with you again is like nothing I could have expected, I still love you. More than I should.”

You pause on the last words, your breath coming out in frozen puffs, and watch Seokjin’s eyes flicker with longing. He pauses, before drawing you into him, his finger tips entwining with yours. 

“It’s not like it was before because it’s better,” he whispers against your lips, before he closes the distance in between you two.

Sparks explode across your skin when he kisses you, your hands swinging around his neck, and you feel like a teenager in love again, discovering how good it felt to be held for the first time. You sway from the wash of emotions that come over you, and Seokjin’s hands are there, steadying you as you break apart, rubbing his cheek against yours and pressing tiny kisses all the way from your temple to your hair.

“___, there’s something I have to tell you,” he whispers into your hair, when suddenly, your quiet moment of peace is interrupted by a loud yell. The two of you break apart, cheeks flaming with heat, and you look away, not wanting to seem suspicious after basically lying to everyone the whole evening.

“Seokjin!! Congratulations on the promotion,” one of his coworkers you’d met earlier, Hoseok, runs up to him. “Singapore won’t be ready for you after the New Year hits!”

More and more people join the swarm, clapping Seokjin on the back, and his eyes look to you in panic. 

“This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out,” he mouths to you, but you barely acknowledge it, your eyes filling up with tears.

He never had any plans to stay on as your roommate. He’d wanted to leave the entire time. 

You rush away from the crowd, Seokjin’s coat still wrapped around you as you cry quietly. Just when you thought that things could finally be okay, that you two could move on from the past together, it had to rear its ugly head once more, reminding you that you didn’t belong together for a reason.

A week passed, and Christmas with it. Seokjin had left quietly to spend the holiday with his own family, and your heart ached with hurt because he hadn’t spoken to you since the night of the party. Or more like you hadn’t spoken to him, holing yourself up in your room and cuddling with Cheese underneath the blankets.

Across from you, the present he’d left outside your door lay unwrapped, and you had half a mind to just throw it out the window and be done with him, once and for all.

Sighing, you open up your laptop, deciding that you should put in an application for a new roommate. You type out a general profile of what you’re looking for, before shutting the computer with a sigh and deciding you weren’t mentally ready to handle the thought of moving on yet. Maybe it’d be easier once Seokjin finally left. 

Rising from your bed, you make your way to the kitchen, opening to fridge to find Cheese’s cat food. Grabbing a spoon to scoop it out, you pause when you realize the bowl is full, and that Cheese hadn’t touched anything yet. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen Cheese all day, sleeping for the better part of the day. 

The door was locked, so he had to be here somewhere. You walk around everywhere, even peeking into Seokjin’s room and calling his name, but to no avail. Standing in the hallway, you feel a cold breeze and gasp. The window had been open. What if Cheese had escaped?

Panicking, you throw on your coat, tears burning in your eyes as you slip on your scarf and shoes. You’d already lost Seokjin, you couldn’t lose the one other person who was holding you together right now. 

You stumble out into the night, shivering when you realiize that there’s a thick blanket of snow outside, deep enough to cover a tiny cat. You slip and slide down the steps, calling out Cheese’s name and running up and down the city streets, the snow coming down heavier.

After half an hour, you decide to give up, voice hoarse from screaming. You make up your mind to put up a missing pet flyer for Cheese immediately. Now that was a task you could focus on.

Trudging up back your street, you come to a pause outside your building, gasping in shock when you see that the front steps’ light is on, and Seokjin is sitting there, a shivering Cheese in his hands.

You immediately run up to him, grabbing Cheese and clutching him to your chest while tears run down your face.

“I found him wandering outside,” Seokjin says, reminding you that he’s still there, and you take a step back from him.

“Thanks for finding him,” you tell him. “I mean it.”

And you turn, cuddling Cheese in your arms, ready to escape to your bedroom once more, when Seokjin’s arm shoots out, grabbing onto yours and spinning you around.

“Please can we talk?” his eyes are desparate as they bore into yours.

“We have nothing to talk about,” you tell him coolly. “I’ve already made arrangements to find another roommate.”

“I rejected the promotion,” he says hastily, and you freeze. “It shouldn’t have taken me this long. I accepted it before we moved in together, and I just thought I could put it off until…”

“Until what? You broke my heart just as bad as I broke yours?” you hiss, feeling guilty at the way his face falls.

“Until I realized how much I don’t want to move out.”

He reaches out, scratching Cheese in between his ears, and the image is so domestic it makes your heart hurt.

“What if we aren’t meant to be together?” you tell him meekly. “What if there was a reason we didn’t work out the first time? What makes now any different?”

“It’s different because even after all this time, I still want to stay here,” Seokjin says, cupping your cold cheeks in his palms. “I still want to be here with you, even after all this time.”

“Are you saying this as my roomate?” you try to lighten the mood, but your heart is doing backflips in your chest.

“I’m saying this as someone who loves you, and who hopes that you believe in taking chances,” he ghosts his thumb over your cheek.

“I took a chance on you, right?” you whisper back, smiling at his gentle touch. “And look where that ended up.”

“Where did it end up?” he teases you in his low voice, and you shiver.

“With you kissing me on New Year’s Eve,” you tell him, and Seokjin pulls you towards him, his fingers running through your hair and tugging at your scarf before he’s kissing you again. 

You remain like that for an infinite number of moments, savoring each other, accepting each other after so long, that you don’t hear the fireworks go off, Cheese shifting uncomfortably in your arms.

“Let’s head inside,” Seokjin presses a kiss to your cheek. “The little guy must be getting cold.”

You step aside, beckoning Seokjin in before you, and he grabs your arm with a grin.

“Lead the way, roomie.”

A/N pt. 2: I hope you enjoyed! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

#bss2022 #bangtanbathhouse #btshoneyhive #bangtanoasis #bts fanfiction #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fics #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfics #bts imagine #kim seokjin #seokjin #jin #seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #jin x reader #jin x you #jin fluff #jin angst #seokjin fluff #seokjin angst #seokjin fic #seokjin imagine #jin fic #jin imagine

[latalpavolante]

Caretaker's Apartment

A small apartment for an elderly caretaker and his cat.

One Bedroom - One Bathroom

Apartment: Honeydew Houses, Groundfloor

Price: ca. § 25,419

Packs: CottageLiving | DiscoverUniversity | GetFamous | CatsAndDogs | CityLiving | GetTogether | GetToWork | Parenthood | Vampires | Paranormal | LaundryDay | BasementTreasures | EverydayClutter

noCC

MoveObjectsOn cheat required

Playtested (I encountered two (minor) issues while playtesting; please check the "Known Issues" section under the cut for more info)

The empty version of the apartment building is available on the Sims 4 gallery! (...where you can also find the household I created for this apartment.) I will share the furnished version as soon as all the apartments are finished!

Gallery ID: LaTalpaVolante

You can watch the speed build (and a tour of the apartment building) on my YouTube channel:

The build tour part ended up way longer than I wanted it to be because I cannot shut the fuck up but I included time stamps so you could just jump straight to the apartment renovation if you want...

Under the cut you can read a little bit more backstory for this apartment.

Barty Jenkins has been living in the groundfloor apartment of Honeydew Houses for many years. As the caretaker, he's doing small repairs around the house, keeping the shared spaces in good shape and helping out the other tenants. He's friendly and attentive and therefore quite popular with the neighbours, and he's always willing to listen if they have any problems or just need someone to talk. Still most of the time he's rather keeping to himself, and actually, he never really talks about his own life and past. It seems he doesn't have any family, except for his cat Pippa. But maybe the other tenants don't know him as well as they think?

Known issues For some reasons sims can't seem to take dirty dishes from the dining table after they finished eating, so you might have to drag them over to one of the kitchen counters manually for your sims to be able to wash them. Also my sim couldn't use the Cottage Living wardrobe with the mirror attached to it because there apparently wasn't enough space, so I placed a wall-mounted mirror from basegame atop of it. Which doesn't look ideal, but at least there's a functional mirror now and I still could keep this wardrobe because I really liked how it looked in this space. Sorry for these inconveniences, everything else should work fine though!

#sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 apartment #ts4 apartment #sims 4 apartment reno #ts4 apartment reno #apartment renovation #apartment reno #britechester #sims 4 britechester #no cc #cc free apartment #no cc apartment #sims 4 no cc #sims 4 speed build #ts4 speed build #Honeydew Houses #latalpavolante #apartment

[fullycompletely]

me frantically googling “how can I tell if I’m a loud neighbour” despite the fact that I keep my tv at volume 5

#most of the time I wear headphones too but JESUS #im just so goddamn anxious all the time #I’m pretty sure the walls are super thick and the apartments are laid out in such a fashion that I’m not actually bothering anyone #but STILL #I share no walls with neighbours in my bedroom but the living space I might share a little bit of wall #but even then I just literally. never hear anyone #so that means they probably can’t hear me either right??? #I mean fuck!! both dudes on this floor have dogs!! and I haven’t heard barking at all!! #And Dogs Bark right?????! #idk idk idk I’m just anxious yknow dhnskfjwjjf #not used to feeling safe to fill up an entire space

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

breaking it down to find a meaning

neighbours au?

this came out of literally no where. I was getting ready for bed and I had "I wanna love somebody" by We Three stuck in my head and then I opened tumbles and this just poured out of me? Yea I literally wrote this in the tumblr post option. no google doc we die like lovers.

I point this out only to say this is defs not edited lmao. I didn't even expect it to be this long it was supposed to a tiny drabble?

please enjoy!

[all images have alt text]

There are exactly three things wrong with Percy's current living situation.

1. He has far too little lounge space for his terribly long body. His shins have hit the coffee table six times today in his attempt to maneuver from sitting on the couch to standing.

2. The spare bedroom is not a good enough sound quality for his guitar or his drum practice. The bathroom is much better. He cannot practice in his bathroom forever, or ever.

3. His neighbour is undeniably, completely distractingly hot.

He hasn't allowed himself to rate the problems in order of most troublesome because he's a little ashamed about which one might take first place.

Since moving in one week ago Percy has had many opportunities to arrange and rearrange every aspect of the tiny two bedroom— or one bedroom and a makeshift studio— apartment until he could walk around it blind. He knows not to step on the third floorboard from the left wall on the way to his bedroom because it creaks unpleasantly and he thinks his downstairs neighbours are going to shove a hot poker through the roof just to brandish the annoying foot that keeps making the noise. He knows that the oven setting has to be juggled just right for it to go on. He knows the curtain railings in the living room are far too thin and brittle— he will have to replace them before the month is out. He knows you have to turn the hot tap in the shower three times and the cold tap four to get the exact perfect temperature. What he doesn't know, however, is his neighbour's name, or the colour of their eyes, or anything about them. All he knows is that they're hot.

But today, bruised shin and all, Percy is determined to introduce himself. If for nothing else but to gauge just how upset they might be when he starts up what his mother used to lovingly call "Melodic Madness".

So far it takes the reign as number one reason he's had to leave his previous living spaces. Mr Chiron from Strawberry Valley, who told the landlord the noise was so loud it made his steel kneecaps rust. Creative, but Percy isn't sure it's feasible. Then there was Minerva from Olive Grove who took one look at him and told the landlord he was a drug dealer, or worse, a drug user. He had raised a brow, couldn't stop his lip from tugging up, liking the way the ring that hugged his bottom lip stretched deliciously. He almost killed her on the spot. He would have laid lillies at her funeral and she would have risen again to throw them away. The last place, a Mr Hedge. Percy was glad to leave him behind. There were baseball bags swinging and yelling almost as loud as he played every time they crossed paths. For his own safety Percy didn't even wait for the man to call the landlord before he wad tucking his drumsticks in his pocket and high tailing it to, here.

Here being Sunset Gardens. Here being in this small apartment that fit him almost perfectly. Here being one knock away from meeting his new neighbour.

Percy wonders, as he looks at the soft cream wood of the door, if he should have worn a turtle neck to hide the snake tattoo wrapping around his throat. Or maybe a button down and a tie, to hide the swirls of ink on his arms. The black t-shirt he has on, a normal longer length to his usual cropped look, is clean and soft from use. He decides it'll have to be good enough because he can't wear button downs all the time. How ever will he afford all the ties that come with the obligation?

Percy knocks on the door.

There's silence behind it. The silence of sleepy world, too cozy-can't move. The silence that doesn't wish to be disturbed.

The door opens.

His neighbour's eyes are blue. Bright blue. Startling blue. Blue enough to make his lungs feel a lack of oxygen. He's reaching for the sky and it's getting harder to breather the higher he gets.

"Hello." Says his neighbour.

Percy is flying closer to the sun than Icarus ever will, ever could.

"Can I help you?"

He needs to stop staring. He needs to say something that doesn't make him look like a gaping angel fish. All starry eyes halos and floundering for relief from the air. Do fish know how beautiful the sky is? He imagines if they did they'd all kill themselves trying to get to it. He's doing it right now.

"Hi," He grins. Teeth white, straight, flossed because his mother forced him to learn the habit. "I'm Percy, your new neighbour."

"Jason," The voice is warm, deep. He knows if he lay his head on that spectacular chest he'll feel every vibration when this blue eyed spectacle talks. It'll be like getting into a really nice car and feeling the seats rumble beneath you.

"How are you finding the apartment?"

They're still standing on his door front. Jason won't relent his sanctuary. Percy won't toe over the line, curiouser and curiouser as he is.

"Good. Living room is causing some bodily harm," He waves to his shin, "But otherwise very good. Cozy."

"We share a wall. I don't know if it's your bedroom and mine or..." His neighbour trails off.

"It's my spare bedroom against you." They both glance to his door, light from his lounge flooding the passage in a perfect parallelogram.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." He's looking into the sky again. Watches as hair falls over that golden forehead. His hands— tattooed "amare" on his left fingers and "amari" on his right— twitch to push it back, to grasp the white strands, to know what light feels like. He tucks them into the pockets of his sweatpants. He tells them behave. The twitch in their hiding place. He doesn't let them seek.

"What about it?" Jason is frowning, in that worried way that says he's used to bad news and he's tired of it too.

"I uh," Percy's eyes flicker around the world. "I play guitar and drums. I'm using that room as my music room."

"Oh." The relief in Jason is a pointed arrow straight at his heart. Even cupid could never shoot something so potent. "That's okay. I'll use your music as inspiration when I paint."

Percy is Icarus three seconds after he believes he can fly. Percy is Patroclus when he feeds Achilles. Percy is Hercules after completing his first trial. Percy is a hero and a warrior and the luckiest person alive. Percy is alive.

"I hope you're good." Jason shrugs as if he hadn't tattooed a permanent place into the underside of Percy's ribcage.

"I hope so too." He manages to say back.

"I'll show you what I can create from you the first time and you can judge." Those blue eyes are so wide with innocence. Not the innocence of life but of words. His neighbour has no idea what he's doing to him. Has no idea that he is about to go home and make song lyrics out of all these declarations.

"I look forward to it." He smiles wide. It's ocean deep with happiness.

There are exactly three things perfect about Percy's current living situation:

1. The kitchen has a gas stove enough counter space for him to make bread and his mother's gumbo

2. His bedroom is big enough for him to fit a king sized bed easily. He is a sprawler when he sleeps and he cannot be happier to sprawl across never ending expanse.

3. His hot neighbour is perfect.

#Jercy #Jason grace #Percy Jackson #pjjg fanfic

[pixieungerstories]

Quarantine - 2

There was no sign the house had any other occupants for days.  I hadn’t been able to drag the mattress out of the room where he had put it.  It was heavy and I couldn’t compress it enough to get it through the door.

I went back to working from home.  The conference calls helped me feel sane.  After a while it was easy to pretend the whole thing was some fever dream.  I was pretending, though.  I still hadn’t tried to open the closet.  Grocery delivery was set on a rotation so that once a week they arrived at the gate.  My neighbours had theirs brought right up to the house.  Mine were always left at the gate of the picket fence that surrounded the front yard.

I used the hedge trimmers to shape the lilac bushes that the neighbours on each side had planted to obscure their view of my house.  I weeded and mowed the lawn wishing for grass seed before just giving up and calling it a meadow.  Some of the flowers were even pretty.  I chuckled with my friends about how much drywall I was going to need when this was over.  We laughed about how it was lucky I was alone instead of having a roommate watching me through the holes in the walls.

Well, they laughed.  I sort of more chuckled nervously.

I kept an eye on my laptop battery and there weren’t any unexplained power outages.  Everything seemed normal.

Until I was cleaning out the basement and found the wine room.  I don’t know wine, but there was a lot of it and the newest bottle that I could find was pre world war two.

I wasn’t expecting it to still be good.  It was.  It felt ridiculous drinking a hundred year old bottle of red wine with a frozen dinner. I did it anyway.

“Are you still here?” I demanded as I was getting ready for bed.

There was no answer.

I found the box that had my vibrator in it and fell asleep in a sweaty puddle.

I woke up a little hung over and found my vibe squeaky clean on the bathroom sink when I went to brush my teeth.  My stomach dropped.

“Were you watching me?” I hissed.  I don’t know what sort of reply I was expecting, but I didn’t get one.

Once again, I tried to move the mattress to another room.  Once again, I failed.  I spent the night wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor in the other bedroom, with my laptop plugged in and netflix running to keep me company.

I screamed and stood up when he said from the doorway, “I get lonely too.”

“Jesus Christ!”

He chuckled, “Not even close.”  There was a moment of silence as I strained my eyes to see something, anything, in the dark.  “I can’t leave either,” he whispered.  I stood there shaking in the light from my laptop screen. “Sleep in the bed.  I will not bother you.”

I didn’t move.  He had just sounded sad when he said it.  

“Why can’t I ever see you?”  I asked.

“I live in the shadows, you can only see me in darkness.”

I blinked at that.  “But you are always here.”

“Yes.”

“And I can’t see in the dark,” I pointed out.

“I know.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I changed the subject.  “What do you want from me?”

“When you first arrived, you slept in the garden.  If you had started by sleeping in the house, I would have run you off.  But you were fixing things, so I let you stay.  I got used to you being around.  Then you got sick and it would have been so easy to just let you die.  I would have gone back to being on my own.  I no longer want to be on my own but I hadn’t considered the weight of you being unable to leave.  I do not like the idea of you being scared of me and trapped here.”

“But I am,” I mumbled.

“Yes.  So take care of yourself.  Sleep in the bed.  Care for the house.  I will stay out of your way.”

I licked my lips.  I didn’t want to ask but I had to know.  “What were you doing with my vibrator?”

There was no answer.  I waited for what felt like an eternity before I continued.  “Look, it isn’t a good idea to share sex toys, so depending on where it’s been, I might need to throw it out.  I can’t exactly get a new one just now.  Please just tell me.”

It was the barest whisper, “I wanted to taste you.”

I froze feeling like a deer in the headlights, completely unsure how to respond to that.

“I have not touched you since you asked me not to,” he argued.  

Except for when I almost fell, I thought.  You caught me then.  And my laptop.  I wouldn’t have been able to get a new one of those either.  I wondered if soap and water would do it or if I was going to end up with some shadow monster disease.  How do you even ask that?

“Ok,” I mumbled.  I stood there in the dark and silence.  The house was silent.  I realized I hadn’t heard rattles or banging or hissing since I learned he was here.  “Nyctophobia,” I blurted out.

“I don’t understand,” he replied.

I shifted awkwardly.  “Can I call you Nick?”

The silence continued.  Then, “Why?”

“Nameless things are more scary.  It isn’t as bad having a roommate named Nick.”

He never did answer.  Eventually, I sat back down on the floor and wrapped the blanket more tightly around myself.  I wasn’t brave enough to walk through a pitch dark house, past a staircase, to get to the room where there was a monster in the closet.  

----

There was coffee waiting for me when I got up, and the smell of cinnamon buns baking in the oven.   The oven timer said there was 10 minutes left.  I peeked inside to find the tiniest pan of monkey bread baking.  I recognized the recipe and pulled out the cookbook it came from.  Sure enough, in Nick’s careful handwriting was notations about scaling the recipe down to one sixth of how it had been published.

He had used pencil.

“Is this a peace offering?” I asked.

I didn’t get a response, but he did the dishes while I had my bath that morning.

When my groceries were delivered, popcorn had been added to my order.

I didn’t see him.  Well, I mean, I never see him, but the only signs of him were things being done and left obviously done while I was bathing or getting dressed.  Aside from how nice it was to not do the dishes I appreciated the signs that he was not watching me.

It came as a surprise when I went to put the popcorn in the microwave and the power went out.  

“Nick?  What are you doing?”

“This isn’t me,” he hissed.

I was lifted and carried squirming through the dark before being pushed into a space and having the door locked behind me.  I panicked as I thought I might be in his closet before I realized I was in the wine cellar.  Flashes of Edgar Allen Poe stories ran through my mind.

I have no idea how long I was in there, in the dark with my heart pounding as I tried to get the door to open.  Eventually, it did.

“All better now,” he assured me, breathing down the back of my neck.

There were a lot of cop cars outside on the street.

“What happened?” I asked.  There wasn’t any answer.

A uniformed officer rang my bell, then politely stepped back from my door the requisite six feet.

“Did you hear or see anything unusual last night, Ma’am?” he asked after identifying himself.

Yeah, all the time, I thought.  There was still no way to say that and sound sane.  I went with a modified version of the truth.  “The power went out around 10pm and I ended up stuck in the basement since I couldn’t see the stairs.”

He frowned at me.  “Have you noticed anything missing?  Any signs of a break in?”

“No?  Should I have?”

He appeared to consider this, then stepped further back to look at the state of my house.  “There were break-ins all down this street last night.  This place might not have been a target.”

“Is everyone OK?” I asked.

“It’s an ongoing investigation,” replied walking towards me again.  “I can not disclose anything further, ma’am.”

I swallowed, “That sounds like a no.”

“Do you mind if I come in and have a look around?”

I considered this, “Do you generally advise that women living alone let strange men into their houses?  If you are coming to search, I want my lawyer here as a witness.”

He was already peering in around me.  The house isn’t that big and the walls were all gone.  He could see the whole main floor whether he came in or not.

“Doing some renovations I see.”

No shit Sherlock.  “My building permit is posted in my window.  I haven’t been able to get trades people out in months but-”

“I'm sure everything is in order with that.  Good day.”   Then he left.  Standing on the porch I could hear him telling the other officers what a shit hole my house was.  He thought it should be condemned.

I mean, he was right, still you never like to hear that.  And it didn’t need to be condemned.  I had the structural engineer’s report to prove it.

I went to work while keeping an eye on the news sites.

It wasn’t break ins.  It was looters.  The house next to me and the four next to it, all the way to the corner, had been hit.  The owners had been found tied up at best and dead at worst with a variety of options in between.

It has escalated all the way down the street.

Then stopped before my house.

“Nick?  What did you do?”

He wasn’t talking to me yet.

----

I sat on my bed and waited for the sun to go down.  My laptop was in the kitchen.  My phone was next to me but set to do not disturb.   I waited, straining my ears for any noise.

“Are you there?”

Nothing was said but I was sure I could feel him watching me.

“Please tell me what happened.”

“No one comes into my house,” he snarled.

I swallowed and fought down my fear.  “I did.”

“You are different.  You are helping.”

I considered that.  He had walls before I got here, now he didn’t.

“Am I safe from you?”

“Yes.”  It would have been more comforting if he hadn’t growled it.

That was the point where I started to cry.  I had made it through everything life had thrown at me without turning into a weepy woman, but that did it.  I’m going to blame it on a night of panicking in the wine cellar combined with news reports detailing what had happened to my neighbours.

“Please don’t,” he whispered.

I sniffled.  “Fuck.  Why don’t I have kleenex?”

A roll of toilet paper was pressed into my hands.  I ripped off a length and blew my nose in a way that women in the movies never do, then I jumped as he stroked my cheek with a cool finger, catching my tears.  His hand was gone an instant later.

“What if they come back tonight?”

“They won’t,” he said firmly.  I don’t think he was talking about the ongoing police presence on the street. 

“What did you do?” I sniffled.

“I defended my home.  That includes you now.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that.  I wasn’t sure that I couldn’t catch glimpses of him as the lights on the street kept flashing.  Red, blue, huge black shadow.

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” I whispered.

The bed dipped but when I reached my arm out in that direction all I could find was a long fingered hand to hold mine.  “You won’t be.”

I felt him tug at the blankets underneath me and I slid over so he could turn them back.  Even in the dark I could find my sleep shirt under my pillow.  I stood up next to the bed, stripped and pulled it over my head.  Under the covers looking at the ceiling.  Red, blue, shadow, red, blue shadow.

“Are you .. human shaped?”

“I can be.”

I snorted, “What kind of answer is that?” 

“An honest one.”

I rolled on to my side so that my back was to him, or at least to where I thought he was.

“I can go.”

“Can you stay?”

The weight on the bed changed.  “Don’t try to look at me, you will only give yourself nightmares.”

“You said you’ve read Blue Beard?”

“Yes.”

“Have you read Cupid and Psyche?”

He just snickered.

“I’ll take that as a yes.  Does any of that apply here?”

“Are you going to try to burn me with an oil lamp?” he teased.

“Are you going to get me pregnant then cast me out into the wilds?”  I countered.

He hissed at that, “Never.”

“Never get me pregnant or -”

“I’m not human.  We can’t procreate.  I can’t make you sick.  You can’t make me sick.  We can drive each other insane and you will be able to escape someday.  I can not leave.”

“Why not?”

“You need to rest.  Don’t ask questions with scary answers.”

“How am I supposed to know they are scary?”

“Because you are asking a monster.  Now, go to sleep.”

That was the most ridiculous thing but I wasn’t up to arguing about it.  Not while there was still an active crime scene next door.

I fell asleep to the feeling of him stroking my back.

----

The only furniture in the bed room was the bed and a few boxes of random stuff I had moved in.  I woke to find one of them had been used as a table and was holding breakfast for me.  Or at least a travel mug of coffee and a plate of toast.  I sat in bed, drank my coffee, ate my toast and read the thirty seven emails from everyone I knew asking what the fuck happened next door.

I ended up posting a blanket statement on facebook that I was fine.  I was still in my house.  I had no idea what had happened other than what I had seen on the news.  Then I posted a picture of the three squad cars I could still see out my bedroom window.  

My boss emailed me to ask when he could expect the report I had been assigned, so that took up the rest of my day.  It was getting dark when I realized I hadn’t eaten all day.  Another freezer meal, some salad and I was raiding the wine cellar again, god damn it!

As I was pouring wine into a coffee mug, he asked me, “Are you drinking alone?”

I got up, took another mug out of the cupboard, poured a second drink and turned off the kitchen light.  “Nope.  I’m not alone.  You’re here.”

He didn’t answer, as I ate my dinner by the light of the street lights outside.  The porch light was outside the kitchen window, so I turned it on to wash the dishes then turned it off to go upstairs.  It would have been better if I hadn’t stubbed my toe on the bottom step.  I swore.  Nick picked me up and carried me up the stairs.

“I didn’t have that much to drink!” I protested.

“No, but you can’t see in the dark.”  He tucked me safely into bed.

“Did you change the sheets?”  I asked.  He didn’t answer.  “You did, didn’t you?”

My laptop opened and his body blocked the screen for a few moments.  Then Brooklyn 99 came on and it was set next to me.

“Why are you doing this?”

“We need a distraction.  Call Penny.”

“We need a distraction?  We?”

“Yes.”

I hesitated.  “Do you need me to move out and camp in the backyard for a few days?”

His reply was a nonverbal roar that rattled the windows and set off a car alarm outside.  

There was a commotion then the cops were knocking on my door.  I sighed and turned on the lights.  I decided to be proactive this time.  I flung open the door and demanded “What the hell are you doing out here?”

The cops on my porch blinked.  

“I’m trying to sleep!  Can you keep the noise down?  Please?  I know whatever you are doing is important but can you just do it a little quieter?”

“That wasn’t us!” the youngest protested.

“Then can you find out who it was and make them stop?”

To my delight, they left.

I closed the door, smiled to myself and bounced off a wall of darkness that caught me before I rebounded against the door.

“I do not want you sleeping outside!” he growled in my ear.

There were one set of arms around my shoulders and another holding my hips and back.  I tried to think of a ‘what big arms you have Mr Wolf’ quip but it died on my lips and the touch was gone in an instant.

“Nick?  Can you help me not trip on things on my way to the stairs?”

Hands on my hips, pushing me gently forward and steering me around boxes. Another hand guiding mine to the banister.  Then nothing.  I carefully inched my way upstairs.  I did that awkward thing at the top where you think there is still one more step but there isn’t so your leg falls through nothing and you stumble.  To my right was the bedroom, still lit by the flickering screen of my computer.

I climbed into bed and closed it.

Then I opened it, stared at the browser for a moment, then closed it again.

“What’s wrong?”

I considered this.  I really had no secrets from him anymore.  “I’m anxious and keyed up.  I need … some ‘alone time’ but it’s weird if you are watching.”

“Would it be better if I was helping?” he teased.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.  “I don’t know what you are working with.  But I feel lonely.”

Gentle fingers took my hand and raised it.  The lips that kissed and the tongue that laved were not human.  I turned my hand to stroke his face but he leaned away.

That stung.  I let my hand fall to the bed.  “It isn’t fair that you get to touch me but I can’t touch you.”

He didn’t say anything to that.  A car drove past and the headlights lit the room for an instant.  Long enough for me to see four glittering eyes watching me, two forward facing and two further to the sides.  Not human, I reminded myself.  In the darkness, a hand cupped my face, thick lips caught mine and as I kissed him a tentacle like tongue licked at my lips before darting briefly down my throat.

“I can do better than that toy,” he promised, “but you can not see me.”

I nodded.  Four hands stroking me over my clothes.  A mouth kissing and licking at my neck. I was expecting him to peel me out of my clothes, instead his touch was so feathery gentle.  Hands cupped my face as he nuzzled my hair.  I strained my eyes trying to see him, but I could catch only the faintest outline.  Any time I reached out for him he pulled away.  Finally, he got frustrated with that and pinned my hands over my head.

I panicked and pulled my hands away and just like that he was gone.

“Nick?”

I don’t know why I was expecting an answer.  I groaned and pressed both palms to my face covering my eyes.  I jumped when he caressed my calf, but I didn’t move my hands.

“What are you doing, little girl?”

“Damned if I know,” I admitted.  “It’s been … I don’t even know anymore… how long have I been stuck in this house?  Weeks?  Months?  None of this seems real anymore.  Sometimes I don’t know if I’m real anymore either.  I just need …  something.”

“Someone,” he whispered.

“Yeah.  Someone to make me feel like I’m real.  Just to make me feel.”

“Humans need other humans to be human,” he muttered. “You should have just called your friend.”

My eyes prickled again and tears splashed against my hands.  “How long have you been here?”

“There was an accident shortly after the house was built.  I came because of that.”

That raised a lot of questions, but my immediate one was, “How long have you been here alone?”

“On and off since then.  Most people don’t last much more than a month or two.  Normally, construction crews are the advance party before they move in.  It’s easy enough to get rid of the new owners.  You were just too stupid to leave.”

I snorted, “Were you really trying to make me go?  Because living here was creepy but not anywhere close to the scariest place I’ve ever lived.”

“My heart wasn’t in it.  I need you to finish fixing the place first.  Sooner or later someone would have built one of those ridiculous houses on the lot.”  He started to massage my calf as he spoke.

“The house is more than a hundred years old.  That’s a long time to be alone,” I pointed out.

“Enough time to get good at it,” he countered.

I moved my hands then and sat up to look at him.  I thought I could see a pool of shifting darkness.  “What are you?  Are you a ghost?  Did someone die here and -”

“Many people have died here. I am not one of them.”

I thought about that for a moment.  “Am I?”

“What?”

“Am I some dead woman who is all alone here making excuses for why I can’t leave?”

He laughed at me then, not a jolly laugh, an odd howling laugh.  “How did you come up with that ridiculous idea?”

It stung a little, “It’s a popular plot point in a number of movies.  And I can’t help but notice you didn’t answer the question.”

He stopped laughing when he realized I was serious and said flatly, “You aren’t dead.”

#quarantine #oh my god they were quarantined #monster boyfriend #shadow monster

[behindheremeraldeyes]

title: duty calls chapter 2

[ch.1] [ffnet] [ao3]

summary: It’s been a while since the Uchiha moved out of her apartment, and so far, living with his best friend has proved itself to be quite the challenge. The pandemic was still far from over, and though they were both following the orders and staying inside, their hearts ached for the one who had to stay out there.

.

a/n: It’s finally here! Chapter 2 of Duty Calls, as we were all expecting it, and I just gotta thank you all for the wonderful feedback I’ve received after posting chapter 1! Here in Brazil, things are still far from being controlled, and though my family is fine, It’s still overwhelming to see all the numbers rising every day. I’ve tried to use a bit of my experience to continue this story and even if I know it was my way of coping, I understand that, for someone else, it might be too much, so take it easy, ok? Times are though, for sure, but we’ll get through this! Again, I hope you enjoy this fic, and as always, I would love to know your opinion on it! 

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.

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And in a matter of 3 weeks, the city of Konoha was no longer the same.

Though safety measures had been taken and people had been careful, it all proved itself pointless once the first case of the new coronavirus was confirmed. The patient was a young man, around his thirties, who had just returned from a business trip to the Sand Country. The protocols were followed and he was isolated from the rest of the society, but by the time the sanitary agents had finished talking to his neighbours, the second case was confirmed, and eventually, the third, fourth, tenth and the hundredth. The numbers wouldn’t stop as countless new cases were popping up every day, and it was possible to see the silent fear that had taken over the city.

At first, the infection was nothing but a faraway reality to most citizens. It was just something people were talking about on the news and no one really felt like it had anything to do with them. They thought it would never happen to them. However, the virus got closer, to the point where everyone knew of someone who tested positive. Most stories, sure, were about asymptomatic people who had nothing more than a headache, but whenever those stories escalated— whenever someone they knew ended up unconscious and with a tube down their throat— that was when people got really afraid.

In every district, rough metal doors now decorated the streets, and instead of colourful shop windows inviting the costumers to come inside, only closed signs and motivating messages could be seen. “It will pass”, “we will get through this”, “stay inside” and so many others that would only be seen by those who had a good reason to leave the safety of their houses. Those messages— and so many other entertaining initiatives suggested by digital influencers and famous artists—, for sure, were very uplifting at the beginning of the whole pandemic, when most people actually believed everything would be solved in a week or two.

Up until then, the COVID-19 was nothing but a global adventure for those who weren’t sick— or at least didn’t know they were—and it would be over before anyone got the chance to even become bored. It would be a chance to take a break from everything and sleep until noon for a couple of days before life returned to normal.

'Soon it would all be over', they said, and people were truly satisfied with just that.

'Soon'.

But as the days went by and the situation started to go south, people realized that their precious ‘soon’ would take longer than any of them had initially planned. 

By the end of March, people weren’t as excited as they used to be, and now, as everyone watched as Spring went by through closed windows, hope was no longer a familiar feeling and fear had invaded most of the residences around the city. The citizens had turned pessimistic regarding the uncertain future, and some of them were even going through the 7 stages of grief as they mourned their long-lost life.

Times were tough. For those who could stay at home and for those who couldn’t but forced themselves to, times were really tough. 

Even for those who don’t usually go out that much, staying stuck inside 4 walls was proving itself to be quite the challenge. Staring at the same things and at the same people— if there even were people— was starting to take its toll on everyone, and there were days when it was just too much. Sure, every case was a case and people reacted differently to the current situation, but eventually, everyone was due to get sick of that life.

And Uchiha Sasuke was no exception. 

After his girlfriend kicked him out in order to protect him, the raven haired boy ended up staying with his best friend. For they were always together, Naruto’s guest-room was basically the Uchiha's spare room, and it’s proven itself quite useful whenever he and the pinkette engaged in one of their lover’s spat. 

They didn’t fight much, but when they did—well— it was better to stay out of it.

Still, even if he didn’t have to spend two months sleeping on a couch, to say sharing the apartment with the blonde was easy would be a huge lie. They’re too different, both of them. Though best friends since they were in their dippers, both Sasuke and Naruto have very strong personalities and it doesn’t take much for them to start a fight. They’re stubborn, hot-headed and neither of them would even dream about admitting to be mistaken. In other words, chances were that they would end up killing each other before the end of the quarantine.

The Uchiha needed space. He needed a full day without listening to that annoying ‘dattebayo!’ or seeing those ramen cups pilling up all over the sink. The blonde wouldn’t move a finger to help with the chores, and if it depended on him, the trash would stay there until it decomposed itself. Naruto is a slob and living with him has made Sasuke reconsider his early life choices. 

How could someone who leaves his unwashed clothes all around the place be his best friend? 

Their friendship, as the Uchiha concluded, was not meant to be put to test like that. They should have never been forced to share the same roof for more than 7 days and the pandemic was nowhere near its end.

There was no way both of them would survive another month together. They had to do something. They had to talk things through and establish some rules in order to make that whole experience less traumatic. Sasuke was more than aware of that, but there was just no way he would be the first to suggest anything, no.

Naruto would have to grow up and admit to be a failure as a productive member of the society.

And until that happened, the only thing the raven haired boy could do was sulk. Sulk and take long showers so he could completely ignore Naruto’s existence for a while.

Yes, those long showers were probably the one thing keeping the Uchiha from murdering his best friend, and right now, he was really glad to be taking one. The warm water running down his skin, soothing his muscles and taking his mind away from the messy apartment. During his showers, he could, for once, think clearly about what was happening in the world, and most importantly, what was probably happening to his girlfriend.

What could she be doing at that moment? Was the hospital already crowded? Was she okay?

Though they face-timed every day, it still wasn’t enough for him to ask all the questions that haunted his dreams and to just talk about nothing in order to make up for the lost time. Day after day, whenever her pretty face showed up on his computer screen, Sasuke could feel a heavy weight being lifted from his chest. Normally, she would be smiling and her bright, emerald eyes would shine brighter whenever he said anything about wanting to kill Naruto in his sleep. 

After talking about their respective days, he would ask her if she was eating and sleeping properly, and even if she would always try to change the subject at that point, he would glare at her until she talked so he could scold her for being irresponsible. He would, then, ask her if she needed anything and tell her to go get some rest before the call ended. They never parted with a ‘goodbye’, choosing, instead, to say ‘I'll see you soon”. Even though they had never really talked about the reason behind that choice of words, through the silent glances exchanged by their eyes, it was possible to tell they both knew it.

Oh, they knew it too well. For she is a front-liner and he is no fool, they knew better than to just believe things would be solved in a matter of days. It would be long until they could finally meet face to face again— until they could feel their hands brushing against one another and the scent of their bodies pressed tight— so they figured that, in the midst of the chaos that was now wiping the world, they could allow themselves to be fooled by a white lie. 

Their soon would come. When, they didn’t know, but it would come before either of them could say goodbye.

Though the hot water was doing wonders to both his body and soul, the Uchiha knew he couldn't stay there forever. After releasing a defeated sigh, he turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around himself. Water was still dripping from his hair as he dried his body, and the steam surrounding him clouded the mirror and every glassy object inside the bathroom. Apparently, he had spent too much time in there this time, he thought, but couldn’t find it in himself to care. He ran his fingers through his soaking, dark locks, ruffling them a bit as to prevent them from sticking to his face. He took a deep breath, then, and finally decided to leave his private, sacred shrine.

With no rush or excitement, the door finally opened and all the steam came out with him. The towel was still wrapped around his hips, and silently, the Uchiha started to make his way towards the bedroom. The apartment was quiet, at first, and he wondered if the Uzumaki went to the convenience store in order to buy more of that industrialized ramen he loves so much. Even if both him and Sakura were always telling him that he shouldn’t leave the house unless it was very important, Naruto apparently considered ramen a vital necessity.

He really is an idiot, Sasuke thought, as he was getting closer to his room. His hand was about to reach out for the doorknob, but before he could turn it—

“Ha! You look really funny like that-ttebayo! Have you ever worn so many clothes? And can’t you take some of them off?”

The Uchiha stopped. It was Naruto’s voice, and apparently, he was talking to someone. Dark eyes widened for an instance when he realized that it was coming from inside of his room, and before he could act on that, Sasuke allowed his best-friend the benefit of doubt regarding his reasons to be there.

Could the dobe be having a private conversation with someone? Was it work related or could he be chatting with a girl? That idiot should better not be doing anything disgusting or—

“Okay, I see that you have to go now. As soon as he leaves his beauty shower, I’ll let Teme know you called. Bye-bye, Sakura-chan!”

Sakura, Sasuke thought, as his heart skipped a beat. Why was she calling at such hour? It hadn’t even been 5 hours since her last shift had ended, so what was she doing awake at that moment? There was something wrong, he thought. He really should ask her and—

Shit.

His mouth went agape as soon as he remembered Naruto’s ‘bye-bye’ and before he could even think, the door was already flying open.

“Oi, Naruto, don’t hang up—“

“Ah!” Naruto screamed, blue eyes widening as he rolled over the bed and fell on the floor. Luckily, he was wearing wireless earphones, so the computer— Sasuke’s computer— didn’t share the blonde’s fate. 

“Tch.” Sasuke scoffed, clearly not caring if Naruto was fine or not. He walked pass the blonde in order to reach his computer, but his efforts proved useless for the call had already ended. The Uchiha closed his eyes in annoyance, cursing himself— and Naruto— for not being able to talk to the pinkette. For a couple of seconds, he kept staring at his computer screen, wondering if he should call her back or not.

What if it was an emergency? No, Naruto wouldn’t have been so calm if that had been the case. Maybe she just needed something from him? But that could wait until after she had slept. Thanks to his current state of overprotection towards her, his mind was playing tricks on him and nothing seemed logic.

What could she possibly want from him? And why wasn’t she calling from her usual ID? Could it be that she had been robbed or—

“Ouch!” The blonde said, sitting with his legs crossed on the floor. “Why the hell did you scare me like that, teme!? That hurt-ttebayo!”

“Stop whining like a child, Naruto. Why the hell didn't you tell me Sakura was calling?”

“Because you were taking your precious shower.”

“So what?”

“Last time I interrupted your you-time, you scolded me for hours and told me never to do that again!”

“But this was Sakura calling. It was important!”

“So was that documentary about koalas!”

“You are an idiot, Naruto!” The Uchiha sighed, walking towards the desk near his bed to reach out for his phone. He was clearly aware that trying to discuss that matter with the blonde would lead to nothing, so he decided to just skip all that nonsense. “I'm just gonna call Sakura and ask her myself.”

“Don’t sweat it. She won’t answer you-ttebayo.”

“And why not?”

“Because she’s finally opened her eyes to see the big jerk you are.”

“Naruto!”

He giggled. It was always too easy. "She's busy right now.”

“Busy?” He lifted his brows in confusion, checking the hour on his phone just to make sure. “Why is she busy right now? She said she wasn’t be going back to the hospital until later tonight.”

“Yeah…about that” Naruto started, scratching his cheek with one finger. “She said there was a problem at the hospital and she had to go cover for someone who tested positive.”

“What? Did she have to go now?”

“Yep.” He nodded. “In fact, she even called from the hospital computer. I barely recognized her with all of those masks and glasses. I took a screen shot of her for future blackmail-ttebayo!”

“Fuck.” He cursed, closing his eyes in pure annoyance and using his fingers to massage his temples. Apart from the dobe’s stupid idea of fun, knowing his girlfriend was already back in the hospital made his heart feel heavier inside his chest.

If they were asking her to get back and cover for someone, Sasuke figured things were probably getting worse out there. It was expected for some health professionals— if not most of them— to be contaminated, but seeing a person who’s always working so close to other various diseases being defeated by this virus was never really easy. In fact, whenever that happened, the entire world was silenced.

Another soldier was down. Another health worker, just like Sakura, who would be lucky enough if they were able to stay home and healthy for 14 days.

Knowing things like that were happening so close to his girlfriend and knowing she would be the one suffering the consequences left him even more worried. She was probably still tired from the previous night, and knowing her like he does, Sasuke was sure she wasn’t even aware of that. Haruno Sakura is a workaholic, has always been. She loves her job and she’s one hell of a good doctor, but all that love and dedication has taken its toll on her life many times before.

For working has become her coping mechanism, Sakura tended to forget about herself whenever the hospital demanded more from her, and now, during the pandemic, things were no different. In fact, they were getting worse and worse by the day, and even if Sasuke called her every day to guarantee she was doing well, it was not the same as when he could actually be there.

She was ignoring herself, he knew. On March 28th, when they called her in order to wish her a happy birthday, the pinkette didn’t even know what day it was. He had scolded her for that, sure, but he knew it was useless. She was going to keep working herself to the bones, and the only thing he could do was face-time her during dinner time.

Really helpful, he thought, bitterly. Still, it was better than nothing. Every victory against workaholic Sakura was already a great victory, and considering the current scenario, it was all he could do.

Almost all.

“Did she say anything else, Dobe?” He asked, his voice filled with displeasure. 

“Oh, right!” He nodded, eagerly. “She also asked you to order her some groceries online since she won’t have time to go to the supermarket herself.”

“Hn.” The Uchiha started, sitting on his bed and getting his laptop in order to access the website of her usual grocery store. Since the beginning of the pandemic, that small shop near her apartment has developed a delivery service for usual customers, and they were even making a special offer for people who were still out there. It was really nice to see so many people looking out for each other, and on behalf of his girlfriend, he could only thank those kinds of initiatives.

“Oh! And she also said not to pay for her. She told you to use her credit-card or else she will be pissed like last time-ttebayo!”

“Tch. That audio she sent me was unnecessary.”

“I thought it was very hilarious.”

“Shut up.” Sasuke pouted, his eyes staring at the screen and choosing the items. 

“Heh” Naruto smirked, crawling so he could approach the Uchiha. "What are you gonna buy her, Teme?”

“The essential, of course.”

“Essential?!” The blonde repeated, a bit exasperatedly. “Jeez, teme! Let me see it.” The blonde stated, reaching for Sasuke’s computer in order to see what he was adding to the cart.

“Oi, knock it off!”

“Onions, tomatoes, vegetables, raw meat… You really don’t know how to buy food, bastard.”

“What? I don’t see what’s the matter with these things. It’s what I usually buy for us. It’s enough to prepare good and healthy meals.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they are, but you’re forgetting something very important.”

“Oh, really? And what is it?”

“We have time to cook. And when I say we, I mean you.” He started, with a grin on his face. “She probably gets home exhausted most of the days and she definitely doesn't have enough energy to cook, so you have to buy something easy to prepare."

“Are you saying we should buy her a stock of frozen food and instant ramen; and ignore all the rest?” He said, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. 

“Well, not a stock, but she definitely needs some frozen food and some bowls of instant ramen."

“She needs to eat properly, dumbass!”

“She needs to eat, bastard!” the blonde started, and even if the tone of his voice didn’t change much, somehow, the Uchiha could see the concern hidden in his words. Though he knew he wasn’t the only one worried about Sakura’s safety, sometimes, he tended to forget Naruto could also be a decent person in times of need. “Once she has enough energy and time to prepare decent meals, then we will worry about the properly part.”

“Hn.” Sasuke closed his eyes for a second before giving the blonde his usual stoic face. “I’m gonna put on some clothes. Don’t spend too much on this crap or else she will be mad and I will blame you.”

“Yosh!” A smile showed up on the Uzumaki’s face as he scrolled around the shop’s website. After spending some time isolated and helping his older neighbours with the groceries, Naruto knew exactly what he should buy for his girl-best-friend and he knew she would be thankful for a bowl of ramen whenever she got home and didn’t feel like cooking.

And so, even if leaving Naruto unsupervised around his things was quite a risky decision, Sasuke put on his clothes and left the room. He had his phone with him, and as soon as the blonde said he was finished, the Uchiha sent his girlfriend a message.

‘Groceries Ordered. Call me when you get home.’

After sending it, his dark eyes kept staring at her picture, a longing feeling taking over his heart. Sasuke remembered when she took that picture of herself, and mostly, he remembered how happy they all were while having dinner at Naruto’s favourite restaurant. It was just the three of them for the night, and even if he normally hates crowded places, for the first time, he hadn’t been bothered by the people around them. They were all laughing and her smile that night was brighter than all the lights of Konoha.

Her smile…

At that moment, in the middle of that mess, he couldn’t really recall when was the last time she truly smiled. In a matter of weeks, not only the pinkette, but all of them were deprived of reasons to be truly happy. They were worried, scared and too immersed in this pandemic to even think about happy.

Happy would happen after life got back to normal. Or, at least, as normal as it could get.

Without noticing, he took a deep breath, locking his phone screen and heading towards the kitchen so he could start preparing lunch. Waiting for a fast reply would be useless, he knew. Sakura barely had time to breath, let alone text someone; and using her phone at the hospital was yet another risk of taking the virus home. She would answer him when and if she could. And until then, he would do what he had to do.

As a normal citizen, he would continue to do his part. 

–––––––––––––––––––

Her reply didn’t arrive until later that day.

The clock was already striking past 11pm and the blonde had long succumbed to his dreams. The midnight edition of the national news was about to start, and if the Uchiha had to be honest, he didn’t even know why he had left the tv on the news channel in the first place. The stories were all the same, the cases were growing and people were being hospitalized. They were all the same— and he knew it— but he had decided to leave that on anyway, and right now, after his phone had buzzed inside his pocket, he realized he had probably drifted off at some point.

His eyes blinked slowly as they adjusted to the bright screen, and though he had just woken up from a nap, all of the sleepiness had disappeared as soon as he read the notification with her name. 

At last, he thought.

He used his fingerprint to unlock his phone and slowly, he stood up from the couch. He turned off the tv, and as he had started his way towards his room, he read the message she had just sent him.

‘I'm home. R u still up?’

‘Yeah' He answered, shortly, opening the door.

‘How about Naruto?’

‘Fast asleep.’

‘Ok. Is it too late for me to call you?’

Tch. Silly girl, he thought, clearly not even considering her concern. ’Turning on my computer. I’ll call you in a minute.’

‘Ok.’

While his computer loaded, the Uchiha made sure to connect his ear pods so they could have a private conversation. Though he was glad to know she was already home and answering his texts, he couldn’t seem to ignore that odd feeling growing inside his guts. He tried to shake it off while clicking the face-time icon, but it was of no use.

Maybe, he thought, it had something to do with the fact that he had just woken up. Maybe he was still a bit sleepy or, maybe, it was just a side effect from the pandemic playing tricks on him.

Yes, he was definitely overreacting, he concluded, as his ears were filled with those continuous beeps. Sakura was fine. She was certainly—

Oh, fuck.

As her image finally showed up on his computer screen, his eyes widened in pure shock and he was sure his sudden reaction didn't go unnoticed by his girlfriend. His lips slightly parted and he could feel his heart sinking inside his chest. Her face was red— swollen, even— and her eyes were bloodshot, emptied of any glimpse of light. Red, prominent lines were drawn across her face, going from the bridge of her nose and down until her chin, as they perfectly delineated the marks of the masks she had to wear during the whole day. Her lips were pale, filled with cracks, and though there were no tears at that moment, he could tell they were brimming her eyes.

The girl with the prettiest of the smiles and the brightest of the eyes was, at that moment, in the brink of a breakdown. She was biting her lower lip as if to hold back more tears and he could see the way her eyes fidgeted from the screen.

It was as if she couldn’t look him in the eyes, as if she was ashamed, guilty or even both. She looked so frail and uncharacteristic that, for a split of second, it felt as if that girl— that destroyed image that was meant to be Haruno Sakura— wasn’t her at all. He had never seen her like that, not even on her worst days. 

Sakura…What on earth had happened to her? 

After a couple of seconds spent in a deafening silence, the Uchiha bit the insides of his cheeks, forcing himself to break that state of pure horror. He blinked a couple of times, and then— only then— he was able to let his voice out. “What happened?”

No reply. Her lips started to tremble as she looked away from the computer, trying her best to recompose herself.

“Sakura.” He pressed. “What the hell happened?”

“Oh, my, I can’t do this.” She looked at the screen, her body language growing anxious by the second, her hands reaching for the mousepad. “I-I knew I shouldn’t have called you, I’m sorry. Everything is fine. Go back to sleep.”

“What!? No! You’re clearly not fine. Don’t hang up!”

“I’m sorry, Sasuke-kun, I—“

“If you do, I’ll take my car and drive to your place right now, Sakura! Don’t hang up.” He said, firmly, and thankfully, that made her stop.

“I-I don’t wanna trouble you.”

“Tch, don’t be stupid. I told you to call me if anything happened.” His voice held somewhat of a rough tone, and for a second, he could see that roughness had managed to make her listen to him. He took a deep breath, then, and after what felt like an eternal pause, Sasuke decided to be the one to start the conversation again. “First of all, just answer me this…Are you safe?”

She nodded, slowly, as if her head felt too heavy above her shoulders. “Yeah.” Her voice came out as a whisper, and though it was too fast, it just felt too much. It felt troubled, and if he dared say, ashamed, as if her safety was something unfair. Condemnable, even.

“Talk to me, Sakura.” His voice got lower, though anger still boiled inside his veins. Sasuke knew better than to let those emotions get the best of him, but he couldn’t help but what to blame someone— the whole world, for all he cared— for the pinkette’s current state. She was falling apart, and though he could see her in a screen less than 30 centimetres away from him, it pained him to know she was miles away from his reach.

Her eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened again, it was as if she had gathered some courage to finally put her feelings into audible words. She breathed in and out, but still not really looking into the webcam of her computer. “We’ve registered the first deaths today.” She started, her voice was rough, and though she was trying to sound professional— one of her many coping techniques— her emotions were taking the best of her.  “And though it’s never easy to lose a patient, this time…Geez, It was so much worse.”

His heart skipped a beat at her words, and though he had listened to many of her hospital stories before, this one felt different. It felt heavier, macabre. “How worse?”

“We were making the rounds around the ICU when this guy, around his 70s, started calling our names. He sounded breathless and his oxygen levels started to drop so fast…” She bit her lip, her hand reaching out to her chest, clinging to her shirt. “He had been stable for three days already. He was making jokes and we even helped him call his wife yesterday because we were going to send him to a normal room, Sasuke-kun…But then, he suddenly couldn’t breath and—“ She paused, trying to find the next words as a tear slipped from her right eye. “—and when I saw it, my colleague was already intubating him and I was doing compressions because his heart had stopped, just like that.”

He could hear the sound of her exasperated breath, and for he knew she was still not done yet, Sasuke remained silent, giving her time to recollect her thoughts. There was still so much she had to let out. So much she had bottled up inside her chest and was now getting the best of her.

Such a strong woman. He wondered how much she had endured until it got that bad.

A muffled sob escaped her lips, and he knew she was ready— or anything remotely close to that— to continue her narrative. “He didn’t make it…We attested his death after half an hour or so, and now I remember looking at the people around me and we were just so…so taken back, you know? We weren’t expecting that outcome from that man, no. He was—“ Another tear slipped, and her voice cracked. “He was fine. He was recovering and he told his wife he was gonna go home. God, she cried so much on the phone when I told her.”

“Oh, Sakura…”

“But that was not all.” She swallowed, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “Right after the impact of his death, a nurse called from the hallway, saying there was another patient in need of immediate assistance and… And we just left him there and it was as if we were relieving that whole thing, but with a woman around her 50s, instead.”

“And what happened to her?” He asked, lowly, though he was already sure of what her answer would be.

“We lost her, too.” She closed her eyes, dropping her head in mild despair. When she lifted it back, more tears were streaming down her face. “I knew we would not be able to save everyone from this virus and I knew there would be deaths, eventually, but…But I never thought we wouldn’t have time to mourn each of them. I thought we would have had time to think and to pay our respects before we were summoned again.” She gritted her teeth, anger now visibly spread across her exhausted featured. “Sasuke-kun, I thought things were going to be more humane even with those who died, but I was wrong! Now, they’re just numbers and there will be more like them soon. And their deaths will be on us!”

“Don’t even go there. It was not your fault and—“

“Yes, it was! We couldn’t save them, Sasuke-kun! And worse, we’re probably the ones spreading this crap out there! When we come home and when we go check other patients…This is on us."

“You’re wrong!”

“No, I’m not! People are scared of us, Sasuke-kun!!”

“What!? Who the hell would be stupid enough to be scared of you!?”

A smile filled with scorn and mockery took over her lips as she lifted her right hand. She was holding a white, small paper that looked like a post it, and as she turned it to the webcam, Sasuke just couldn’t believe what he was reading.

‘You’re gonna kill us all! Get out!’

His lips went agape as his mind tried to find the right words to describe what he was feeling. Seriously, how could people be so low? How could they be so cruel and insensitive towards another human-being who was just going home? These people really are beyond any salvation, he thought.

“I’ve found this note on my door when I got home today… And even if I don’t know whose handwriting is this, most of my neighbours are averting their eyes whenever I see them from afar… So, yeah, I guess I’m not imagining stuff."

“Sakura, you can’t let it get to you. These people don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“Yes, they do, Sasuke-kun.” She spoke, a little louder now. “They’re trying to protect themselves by staying at home and I’m the one bringing the virus to them! They will get sick, and then…And then they will be just number, too.”

Bitter tears were now flowing down her face and he knew she had finally let go of the very last string that held back her emotions and her anxieties. She was sobbing furiously, now, and at that moment, he really hated himself for not being there with her. Though he understood everything and was even tired of hearing her voice lecturing him about staying away, fuck, he just wanted to stomp out of the apartment and go to her. There wasn’t much he could do, for he couldn’t really give her the answer she wanted, but watching from afar as she crumbled apart was just too painful.

It wasn’t fair. That virus wasn’t fair to its victims and it sure as hell wasn’t fair to the front-liners who had to see such horrors repeating themselves day after day. The lack of a cure, the pressure to save lives and the uncertainty of the days that were to come. Just like her, many health workers were feeling powerless and lost in the middle of that chaos, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. In fact, even though people on Tv were showing their gratitude towards those who couldn’t stop working, reality showed how fear corrupted the human heart to the point where they didn’t think twice before being assholes in order to try to protect themselves. 

Those were certainly rough times, where physical contact was banned, certainties were non-existent and there was no guarantee that anyone would find a solution before the next tragedy occurred.

The world was hurting. People were hurting.

But more importantly, for him, his girlfriend was hurting. And even if his heart was breaking for her, he knew he had to say something— anything— to help her get back on her feet. That was why she called, after all. She wanted his help since she was clearly not being able to manage it on her own. He had to help her. He had to be strong for both of them so she could once more be strong for those out there.

For she’s a practical and strong-willed woman, the Uchiha knew better than anyone that simple and heart-warming words would be of no use in order to calm her down, no. He would have to appeal to her good sense and her logical side. He had to remind her that, even if she was losing the battle, she was also the only one between them who stood a chance to win.

“Sakura.” He spoke, sounding firm so she could look at him. Her face had turned even redder due to the tears, and for an instance, he swore he saw her younger version who used to cry whenever the other kids were mean to her. He really had to bring her back. “What are you going to do now?”

“…What?”

“I've asked you, what are you going to do now?”

“I-I don’t know, I—“

"Are you going to give up?”

“Give up? No, I—“

"No doctor is forced to work during a pandemic if they don’t want to. You can quit, spend 14 days without leaving your apartment and then you can run back to your parents’. That’s an option.”

“Run back to my parents?” She asked, and the indignation behind her words gave him a certain hope that he was following the right direction.

“Yes. To be honest, I would feel quite better if you did it. Knowing you would be safe would spare me a lot of negative thoughts. We could even be together. That would be a good option, right?”

Through the cameras of their computers, they stared into each other’s eyes, and he made sure not to let his serious expression melt into a soft one. Dark eyes clashed against emerald ones, taunting them and daring the girl to take a stand. He was offering her a way out of that whole thing. He was showing her that there was another option if she felt like she couldn’t take it anymore.

Sakura could always give up and he had to make that option clear for her.

Clear enough so she could take the next step.

“Fuck you, Sasuke.”

Bingo.

Her eyes, though still red and a bit lifeless, were looking at him with a condemning stare. Though she had been looking like a child for the past hour or so, now he could finally see the traces of the mature woman she is. And even if it was still not enough to consider his job done, Sasuke could now hold onto something in order to bring her back.

“What? I’m just giving you an option.”

“No, you’re not.” She scoffed. “You know exactly what you’re doing, you jerk. You’re giving me a stupid option we both know I would never take just so you can make me feel less shitty.”

“Well…is it working?”

“…Maybe.” She said, softly, the tears now slowing down. “What will you do now?”

“Me? Hn, I should be the one saying this, don’t you think?” He looked at her with warmth in his eyes and he hoped she could feel it. “What are you going to do now, doctor?”

At first, she just stared at the screen, but slowly, her head started to move until she was nodding it up and down. Tears were still coming and her lips were still trembling, but she didn’t look that desperate or broken anymore, no. Sakura was slowly gathering her pieces, and he felt more relieved to see her like that. The pinkette took a deep breath, then, and he knew at that moment she had finally made up her mind. 

“Probably something stupid.” Her voice came out, softly and unsure.

'Now that’s the Sakura I know.’

“I'm going back.” She continued, lowly at first, as if to taste the sound of her words as they were thrown into the universe. “Shannarou, I’m going back to that hellhole because that’s the only place in the middle of this mess that makes me feel slightly better with myself. I’m going back because that’s my job.” Her voice came out with all the confidence he knew she would be able to muster that night, and he figured that was their small victory of the day. She didn’t look that scared anymore, and perhaps, she was getting ready to move on for the night.

“Tch, there’s something definitely wrong with you, Sakura.”

“Yeah…I guess there is.” She said, softly, wiping the last tears that were falling from her eyes. “I guess not even a pandemic will keep me from working too much.”

“You're probably right, but…” He offered her a comforting smile, looking away from the webcam for a second before returning his attention back to her eyes. “I'm proud of you.”

Judging by the way her emerald eyes widened, it was possible to say his words caught her by surprise. Apparently, tears started to pool around her eyes once more, but she stopped them before they could fall. Her lips slightly curled up at that, as in a shy reaction, and even if he normally wouldn’t have said that, well, he figured she was in need of those words.

“Thank you, Sasuke-kun. I don’t know what would’ve happened if it wasn’t for you.”

“Hn, that’s easy, you would’ve been stubborn like always. And though I’m sure you would’ve figured out what to do on your own, it might have taken you a little longer to reach that conclusion.”

“Maybe you’re right.” She started, tugging a strand of her pink hair behind her ear. “Damn it, maybe I really do need to start listening to you.”

“Better late than ever.”

Better late than ever, indeed. Slowly, she was coming to her senses and he knew there was nothing left for him to do. From that moment on, it was up to her, and more than anyone, he knew she would pull through it.

“Yeah…”

“Oh, and now that you’ve mentioned it, have you eaten anything already?”

“I guess not.” She bit her lip, her demeanor clearly showing she hadn’t even considered that until that moment.

“Tch, you’re worse than Naruto. Go eat something, will you? You need to refill your energies."

“Fine.” Sakura said, taking her laptop in hands as she started walking down her hallway and towards the kitchen. 

“Do I want to know when was the last time you ate?”

“Probably not.”

“Tch.”

She placed the device on her kitchen island and turned around to open her cabinet to grab a pan. “Come on, you’re the chef here…What can I do that is easy and good enough for your standards?”

At that moment, though he knew she was clearly teasing him, the Uchiha couldn’t help but remember the Dobe’s words earlier that day. And though he would normally not care about those things, he figured he could make an exception. It had been a rough night, after all.

“Do you have instant ramen?”

“Instant ramen?” She asked, confused. “Are you really suggesting that?”

“Aah.” He nodded, as if that was the most normal thing in the world. “I'm getting hungry, too and I think there’s still one bowl left. What do you say?”

Her face was a bit surprised, at first, but eventually, her expression changed and a soft, grateful smile took over her lips. In a swift move, she put back the pan and got herself a bowl of instant ramen. “Instant ramen it is, then.”

“Hn, I’ll go get one for me, too.”

“Okay…” She began, and he watched as she started to prepare the noodles. He was making his way to the kitchen with his laptop in hands, and it didn’t take much before they were both waiting for the water to boil. “Now we just wait, right?”

“I guess…Naruto is the expert here.”

“He certainly is.” She agreed, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. Her eyes were half closed, her head tilting a bit to the side. “Sasuke-kun…?”

“Uh? What is it?”

“I know it’s late and you must be tired, but…Can you talk to me for a bit longer? Just tell me about your day, I don't know.”

Her voice was soft at that moment, and he noticed the way she was genuinely curious about his day. Though she was still far from normal, Sasuke figured that was the closest to normal she would get in a situation like that. For the first time during the quarantine, he saw her, not as a doctor working bravely on the front lines, but as a young woman who had the right to feel insecure and scared.

They were all scared, after all. Why couldn’t she be, too, right? Just like everyone else, Sakura had the right to feel everything, and sometimes, feeling came with an overwhelming price. It hurt, it made her cry and doubt herself, but mostly, it made grow. As a woman and as a doctor, Haruno Sakura was growing and blooming like the flower she is.

For the better or the worse, that was how things were now.

And no matter what the future had in stock, they were going to face it together. Even if they were separated because of the virus, their hearts would be connected, always. 

“Of course.”

“Good.” She smiled, weakly, and at that moment, they knew that, in the middle of that mess, they could finally allow themselves to enjoy some good, instant ramen for dinner.

––––––

a/n: Okay, so… was it too much? From the beginning, I had this angst prepared for this story, and believe it or not, most of Sakura’s lines were based on real conversations shared by doctors. The note, too, was very real. It happened to a health worker here in my country and it just broke my heart when she told that to the press. Times are really weird right now, and it’s ok to be scared, but we can’t turn against each other! We need to spread love and empathy, not the other way around. If you need anyone to talk to, I’m always here! I’m a bit of a mess and I take a long time to answer, but believe me, I AM HERE! Anyway, thanks for reading it! Hope you’ve enjoyed it! Stay safe and stay inside!

#sasusaku #sasusaku fanfiction #sasusaku fanfic #ssfanfic #Naruto fanfiction #myssfics

[rainandhotchocolate]

The girl next door

A/N ok yes it’s technically 1am but fk u all its STILL DAY 6 IN MY MIND anyway this is a !muggle reader x James fic, the classic girl next door trope :)) Enjoy lovelies! 

The girl next door

James watched from his window as a bright red car rolled up into the driveway next to his. The house next door was relatively similar to his own, a classic Victorian terrace with a balcony overlooking the front lawn and the back garden. James’ parents hadn’t changed the decorations much, wanting to keep it in line with muggle stereotypes as much as possible, not draw attention to themselves unnecessarily. The most they had added were two rocking chairs out on the front porch for them to watch the neighbourhood pass around them, doing muggle things.

James’ next-door neighbours, however, had done the exact opposite. Whilst they had to keep the front façade, heritage or some odd muggle council thing, they had painted the front a deep-sea blue, the door was porcelain white to match the balcony. Hanging down across the painted walls was lush ivory which vined its way across the façade and up the edge of the balcony, meeting a row of blueberry and raspberry plants that had never really sprouted. From James’ bedroom, he could see into the back of the house and garden, completely renovated so that there were large windows covering the kitchen and living space and led out into a complete mess of a garden, a huge oak tree in the middle, daisy’s and honeysuckles covering the grassy surrounding it.

When James was young, he used to watch with envy at the large tyre that was tied to the edge of the tree, watching the couple swing their young daughter higher and higher into the tree. He wondered if it was the closest thing muggle’s felt to flying.

He first met the girl next door when he was 8, when Euphemia and Fleamont had brought around a large pudding to greet the new neighbours. They had ushered them in, the woman wearing an oversized pair of overalls and covered in paint, the man in jeans and a jumper, holding the newspaper in one hand as he led them into the kitchen.

“We have a daughter around the same age as James.” He remembered them saying to his parents whilst he looked around at the brightly coloured utensils hanging around the kitchen.

“Y/N!” At her mum’s yell, Y/N came skidding through the open doorway, sliding further than she expected in her socks on the smooth wooden floorboards and grabbing hold of James to slow down.

“She’s a bit of a wild one, our Y/N,” her dad had said, grinning down at her as Y/N gave James an apologetic grimace, “Why don’t you show James the yard?”

She grabbed James’ hand and pulled him out the large back door, which was also a window, and led him towards the tree.

“This is a fairy tree, they like to sleep here at night, but if you’re lucky you might get to see one,” She winked, a piece of her curly dark hair falling into her face. She tried to blow it off with the corner of her mouth before shaking it off her face. She was wearing a bright pink dress, James remembered because he wondered whether she was going to ruin it as she grabbed hold of the tree branch and swung herself up and onto it.

“Come on! What are you staring for?”

“Nothing, coming,” He’d grinned up at her and pulled himself up, joining her on the large tree. They’d jumped around it for an hour before his parents came back into the yard and brought him home.

Being an only child, James took any opportunity he could do have her over or vice versa when she was bored and wanted someone to hoist her onto the tallest branch.

“I can see the whole way to London from here!”

“You bloody cannot,” James snorted, tickling the inside of her leg so she jolted forwards, having to grab hold of the branch in front to steady herself.

“Oi!”

“That’s what you get for lying,” James giggled as she tried to reach down and poke him, but she was too high up.

“Come up here so I can get you back.”

“Not even if Merlin was up there,” James danced around the trunk of the tree, avoiding her foot as it dangled, trying to find his head.

“What, like King Arthur? Stop moving! I promise I won’t hit you I’m just trying to get down,” Y/N held her leg still until James sighed and moved over so she could use his shoulders to climb back down. She hit him across the arm the moment she landed on a thick branch, her lip curling brazenly.

“You are so dead,” James growled at her, chasing her across the tree branches, watching Y/N giggle loudly as he got closer until he could tackle her onto the grass in a heap.

When they got older, well mostly when James went to a ‘faraway very boring nothing to talk about’ boarding school they drifted apart. It was natural enough, they still saw each other on break, chatting about their classes and friends. On Christmas eve, Fleamont and Euphemia would invite all the neighbours around for scones and tea and Y/N would sneak some chocolate for James and herself to share in the garden, watching the stars. When they turned 14, it was a bottle of wine from her parents tiny under the floorboards cellar and they giggled for hours as the wine made James feel light-headed and flushed and like he could do bloody well anything.

When the parents had moved into the sitting room for whiskey (well it was firewhiskey with the label hidden), James and Y/N had stolen a blanket so they could keep lying on the grass as the snow began to fall on their heads. James turned to look at her, face flushed from both the bottle of red wine and freezing air, eyes wide and twinkling as she looked up at the stars, a look of awe on her face. Snow had begun to land on her eyebrows and hair, sparkling brightly against her pale skin and dark curls in a halo around her head.

“Snow has got to be the prettiest thing on earth,” She’d said sitting up and looking across the garden as it settled in the grass and leaves. James was still staring at her and she gave him a funny look in return. “What?”

“You look so beautiful with snow in your hair.” James wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol talking or himself but without giving it a second thought he leaned in and kissed her, softly, his heartbeat rising in his chest.

He’d pulled back slowly, watching Y/N’s mouth make a small ‘o’ and her whole body freeze momentarily.

“I’m sorry, it… must be the alcohol, I didn’t mean – “

“No it’s fine I just – “

“Why don’t we go back inside?” James’ heart was racing, his head catching up to himself. You bloody idiot.

“Oh, yeah ok.” James had given her a hand standing up, and they’d both walked back inside in silence, brushing the snow from their hair and shoulders.

Since then, things had never really gone back to normal. James focused all his romantic energy on Lily, Lily who would scowl as he walked past and became infuriated by the smallest of prods, but wouldn’t make him feel like he did that Christmas Eve. Hollow.

The next Christmas break, Sirius turned up on their doorstep, bruises covering every inch of visible skin, blood dripping down his lip and staining the side of his thin long-sleeve top.

“Hey… mate,” He spluttered when James pulled open the door, freezing up when he saw Sirius’ state.

“Sirius, Merlin, are you ok, get inside come on, MUM! DAD!” He yelled towards the stairs before reaching out and grabbing Sirius as he went to collapse on the front doorstep. They didn’t have anyone over for Christmas eve that year, Sirius still sickly thin, the fading bruises still deep blues and purples splaying across his face and legs. Sirius sat up with James all night talking about next years Quidditch cup and the best way to get a date for the first Hogsmeade weekend back, James continually flicking his eyes towards the bedroom window where lights were still on.

“Am I not as interesting as the darkness,” Sirius threw a pillow at him when James outright didn’t respond to Sirius’ question about how much frogs spawn was too much frogs spawn.

“Oh sorry, what?”

“What are you looking at?” Sirius narrowed his eyes, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Nothing, it’s nothing- “ But Sirius had already jumped out of the bed, masking his pain with a grimace and was limping over to the window. He gazed out, pushing James to the side as he tried to close the blinds, looking over into Y/N’s house.

“Ahhh, of course! I guess a hot girl is more interesting than I am,” Sirius snorted, still watching, “Ooo, a taken girl, much less interesting.”

“What?” Forgetting all pretence of composure, he hopped out of bed and rushed over to the window. He could see Y/N leaning up against the wall, smiling at something out of view. That something quickly returned, as a tall curly haired boy who lifted her up in the air and kissed her passionately. James felt something in his gut twist. He turned away quickly from the window, sitting back on his bed, determined to look calm.

“And here I was thinking that Lily was the only one for you huh?” Sirius grinned widely, prodding James, “Come on, there’s a million girls out there, I promise we can find you someone just like that.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow when James didn’t reply. He sat back on the bed and watched him, letting the silence hang.

“She was my first kiss.” James had said. He’d never really admitted that before. They didn’t really talk about that kind of stuff, more like what they could do, will do. Sirius remained silent, gripping one hand on James’ knee.

Y/N hopped out of the red car, opening the boot to help her parents get out the rest of the shopping bags and bring them into the house. Sirius wasn’t awake yet, and James was indulging himself by watching her smile up at her dad who had likely told a really terrible joke about fishing. The door closed and James found himself wandering back to his bedroom, wondering if she would go to her room and read or listen to music or something. Maybe she would look up to where his window was too, looking for him. James rolled his eyes at himself, shaking his head. Stop being such a sap.

Then he froze. Standing at the side of their house was Sirius, looking up at James and waving fervently, smiling like an absolute dick. He saw him exaggerate waggling his eyebrows and mime walking up to the front door.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” James mouthed at him, giving him the finger and trying to swat him away from the house. Sirius grinned wider and walked out of James’ vision. James sprinted back to the living room banging on the window loudly as Sirius walked up to Y/N’s front door and knocked. James stopped banging immediately as her mum answered the door and craned forwards, desperately wishing he could hear through glass. She brought him into the house and closed the door.

When Sirius returned James jumped him.

“What the FUCK,” He hissed, eyes flashing at Sirius who continued to look very satisfied with himself.

“Oh, calm down, I didn’t do anything too wild,” He winked, making his way to the kitchen, forcing James to follow him in a huff.

“You need to tell me exactly what you did.”

“I just invited her over – “

“What? Why? She doesn’t even know you!”

“For a little party we are having,” Sirius continued as if James hadn’t just spat a little in his face.

“Party?”

“Just a small thing, it will be fine. I’ve already cleared it with your parents!” He grinned as James went to tackle him.

As it so happens, Sirius (for once) was actually telling the truth and had only invited a small group of people from Hogwarts who lived around London and had gone home for Christmas. Marlene arrived first, holding a bottle of firewhiskey and a wild grin, followed closely by Alice and Frank who brought mince pies, and Remus and Peter who had brought a selection of sweets from their parents. They were sitting in the front living room exploding snap when the doorbell rang. James sprung up, flattening out his shirt pedantically.

“You really weren’t lying Pads,” Remus shook his head at James, “He’s smitten.”

“I told you,” Sirius sang, chuckling as James gave him daggers.

“Ok please, she doesn’t know we are wizards so please tame down the whole… fact that we are wizards.”

“Well said, Prongs,” Remus gave him a small clap.

“Oh, shut it the lot of you.”

“James are you going to get the door?” Euphemia called from the kitchen.

“Yes, mum, I’m going now!”

“Hurry up, she might leave,” Marlene winked at James but he ignored her, moving down the hallway a little too quickly, having to stop himself from slipping into the door in his socks.

Ok, calm down, it’s just a lowkey Christmas hang, nothing to worry about. Chill.

He took a deep breath and plastered a smile on his face, swinging open the door. Y/N was standing in the cold, covered in a large fluffy coat, arms tucked inside to keep warm.

“Finally, I thought you’d forgotten about me,” Y/N smiled up at him and James felt his entire pep talk get thrown out the window as he remembered how her how face scrunched up when she smiled and it made his heart jump. He silently thanked the stars when he heard Sirius slid up beside him.

“You came! James has told us all about you, come in come in,” Sirius elbowed James subtly, and James opened the door wider so she could step inside.

“Looks like you haven’t changed a thing,” Y/N stepped out of her wet boots and looked around the hallway.

“I honestly think I’d be worried if it had, my parents might have gone mad,” James felt himself fall back into the easy rhythm of conversation with Y/N as he led her back into the living room, Sirius on their tails.

“So this is a bunch of people from school, Marlene, Alice, Frank, Remus, Peter, and well you must have met Sirius this afternoon?”

“Yes! So nice to meet you all, and actually put faces to names,” Y/N beamed around at them all, finding a place beside Remus on the floor.

“He talks about us?” Marlene made a loud gasp.

“I’m shocked,” Alice shook her head in mock amazement.

“You all suck,” James hissed at them, quickly returning to his previously plastered smile state, “We were just playing cards. Do you know any good games?”

They continued playing cards, Marlene sneaking them sips of Firewhiskey when they were sure that James’ parents weren’t about to come and drop in another bout of snacks, with only one minor mishap with the cards when Frank slammed too hard on two similar cards resulting in Remus spinning Y/N around as a card exploded.

“What the hell was that noise?” Y/N looked disorientated, blinking vehemently.

“Car backfiring,” Marlene smiled, her eyes still slightly panicked. Frank was mouthing I’m sorry to James as he quickly wiped down the table with his hand.

“Right…” Y/N still looked confused but dropped the topic. Alice yawned loudly, stretching out her back on the soft carpet behind her.

“I’m actually getting super tired, might head off?” She turned to ask Frank, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, I have to be home before 12 anyway, my parents love Christmas,” He grinned at James, sending him a sly wink. James rolled his eyes, praying that Y/N didn’t see.

“Well if you’re heading, I might… catch a ride,” Marlene held back a laugh as she attempted a muggle phrase.

“Uh, yeah, sounds good,” Alice poked her in the ribs, shooting her a look to shut up. They all stood up, Marlene grabbing the bottle of firewhiskey and putting it back in her bag.

“Sorry boys, and Y/N, you’ll have to live without for the rest of the evening.”

“Fine with me, it tasted way different to anything I’ve ever stolen from my parents,” Y/N laughed, smiling warmly up at Marlene. James wanted to hug her. Or something. Perhaps he was getting delirious.

They waved goodbye, leaving the house before apparating together away, James cringing when he heard the loud crack!

Sirius kicked Remus in the leg and gave Y/N a smile.

“Would you like a hot cocoa? Remus makes the best, I can help him find the ingredients.”

“I don’t think she want –“ James started, feeling increasingly panicked. He hoped his eyes accurately said don’t fucking leave me alone I’m a mess.

“I’d love one!” Y/N cut him off and Sirius’ smile widened.

“Perfect, come on Remus,” He pulled him up, Remus giving James an apologetic smile before following Sirius out of the room. A silence fell over the two of them, and James found himself beginning to stress over whether it was comfortable or if he should interrupt it or if that would make it seem like they couldn’t just hang out in silence anymore and would that be worse?

Thankfully, Y/N spoke first.

“Your friends seem nice,” She was leaning back on her hands, looking up at him with her y/e/c eyes.

“They’re a bit mental, but in a good way,” James chuckled, fixing his hair unconsciously. Y/N laughed loudly when she saw his hand ruffle through his already messy hair.

“You always do that when you’re nervous.”

“I’m no-“

“Oh shush, I’m nervous too… it’s been a while I guess.”

“Yeah… I guess it has.”

“I broke up with Dan – my boyfriend last month,” She avoided his eyes now, leaning forward. James saw her face flush slightly but didn’t say anything, pretending not to notice. “The first thing I wanted to do was come over and lie in your garden and just forget about it but you were at school and we hadn’t really spoken since… well, you know.”

“Yeah,” James replied dumbly, wincing at his lack of conversational aptitude.

“I just, miss you, you know?”

“Yeah, I miss you too. I pulled the best prank on one of our teachers and I just wanted to send you an o- letter, but I didn’t know if, you wanted to hear from me I guess,” He laughed awkwardly, reaching for his hair but stopping himself.

“I’m sorry for running out on you like that it was, well it was my first kiss.”

“Mine too.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really, what do you think I am, Casanova?” James snorted at her and she grinned sheepishly.

“I don’t know, you were always talking about girls from school, especially um, Lily? I just presumed that it was something you did.”

James laughed properly now, a large booming laugh he hadn’t felt in a while. It felt good to talk to her again, even if it was vaguely awkward small talk.

“I honestly am the worst with girls. I think everyone presumes I’m some smooth mover and then doesn’t talk to me.”

“Well obviously, if you’re calling yourself a smooth mover,” She joined in, her face scrunching up as she laughed at him.

“Oh, fuck off,” James threw a pillow at her, but she just laughed harder, blocking her face and letting it fall to the ground.

“I had a massive crush on you, you know.” She spoke quickly, like she’d been holding it in and let it out all in one breath. James stared at her, momentarily stunned.

“So, your answer me kissing you was to splutter and run away?” James teased, unsure whether this was still a casual conversation or not. His heart was beating in his throat and he swallowed hard.

“I was 14, give me a bit of credit, I was having a mini heart attack,” She gave a soft chuckle, but also looked increasingly uncomfortable, swinging back and forwards on the floor.

“You were the one who got me drunk!”

“Ahh so you’re going to blame it on the alcohol huh?” She gave a knowing nod, her lip curling cheekily.

“I will give some credit to the alcohol for giving me certain encouragements.”

“Fair enough.”

A silence fell over them again, but this time James felt calmer, like a weight had been lifted from his chest and allowed him to look her in the eye again.

“I am sorry I didn’t respond how one should have responded,” She cringed at herself as she spoke.

“Ahh, don’t stress about it. Honestly I don’t know what I would have done if you had just sprung that one me either.”

“Mmm,” Y/N simply hummed in response, her head crooked to one side.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You are the worst fucking liar.”

She huffed at him, tucking a curl behind her ear. James watched her hand carefully. He wondered what it would feel like to do that for her, to graze the edge of her cheek, cup her chin.

“I guess… I guess I was just wondering,” She bit her lip and James resisted the urge to stare at it. “How you would have reacted.”

James felt his whole body stop. He forced himself to nod in reply, suddenly very aware of how alone they were. And how easy it would be to just lean down…

“I guess we’ll never know.”

“Cocoa!” James could have killed Sirius in that exact moment, and by the expression that dawned on Sirius’ face, he could tell.

“Oh shoot, I should really get home, I promised mum I’d help wrap dad’s presents before tomorrow morning!” Y/N had checked her watch and stood quickly, brushing the mince pie crumbs from her skirt. “I’ll, er, see you soon?”

“Yeah, yeah of course, I’ll bring by some treacle tart tomorrow,” James led her to the door and watched as she got home safely. He closed the door and immediately banged his head against it.

Sirius and Remus were staring furiously at him when he returned to the living room and sunk into the couch, feeling more depressed than anyone should on Christmas Eve.

“HOW COULD YOU NOT KISS HER!” Sirius whispered and yelled simultaneously, not wanting to wake up James’ parents.

“It really is poor form, mate,” Remus agreed, sipping on a mug of cocoa.

“I think I’m just going to die here now. Forever. Please leave me to mull in my failures.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and sat up next to James’ face.

“You’re a fucking idiot if you think we’d let you give up this easily.”

In a matter of minutes, the three boys had pulled on boots and jackets over their trackpants and snuck quietly out the front door and around the side of the house. They reached Y/N’s window slowly, careful not to make any noise that would have any neighbour poking their heads out the window and seeing three boys sneaking towards a girls bedroom window in the middle of the night. Not the best look.

“Ok, the lights are still on in her room, she said she was helping wrap presents. This is your moment!”

“This is stalking,” James hissed back, his stomach clenching. This was so so so stupid. And yet, the thought of surprising her, her big toothy smile at the window, and likely the firewhiskey, made him continue to follow Sirius. Remus walked behind, checking to see if anyone was watching.

“We will keep watch, go!” Remus pushed James forward lightly so that he was standing directly in front of it. He didn’t move, just watched the light flicker against the curtains.

“I can’t do this –“

“Shut up!” Sirius and Remus both hissed back. Sirius leaned forward and knocked on the window, immediately hiding on the right side of the wall, Remus on the left.

“You fucking – Y/N! Hey!”

Y/N had pulled back the curtains cautiously, opening them fully when she saw who it was.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered back, eye flickering to her door and then back to James who was now shivering slightly in the snow.

“I… well I was just thinking about what you said and…” He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. She was examining him closely, expression unreadable. “I was thinking that you never got to see my reaction…”

He wanted to bang his head against her window. Maybe he would pass out and could pretend this was all a sleepwalking episode or something. She continued to watch him for a second before she snorted loudly.

“Fuck, I am so sorry I just thought, I’ll leave,” James closed his eyes for a second, clenching his fists by his sides. He was going to stab Remus and Sirius in their sleeps for ever suggesting this.

It happened so quickly James wasn’t actually sure it did happen. With his eyes still shut, he suddenly felt something soft press slowly against his lips. His eyelids flickered open quickly, just in time to see Y/N pull away, a small smile on his face.

“I… oh.”

“You’re right, that was a reaction worth witnessing.” She looked a little giddy, though James was sure he looked ten times happier.

“I mean I’m definitely happy with it.”

“Good.” She bit her lip again, pausing for a second before continuing, “What are you doing on boxing day?”

“Nothing,” James replied very quickly.

“Pick me up at 10.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

“I should probably actually get some sleep tonight.” Y/N giggled, her eyes shining bright against the moonlight.

“Yes, of course, sleep well, Y/N.”

“You too James.”

Y/N looked at him for another moment before closing her blinds with a wave.

James turned around on the spot, moving away from where Y/N would be able to hear him and jumping in the air, a fist in the air.

“Fucking YES.”

“Finally,” Sirius punched him in the arm, flanked by Remus who beamed at him.

“I’m glad this worked, the next thing was storming the place and telling her you were in love with her.”

“Very glad it didn’t come to that.”

“I’m not, I’ve always wanted to storm a house,” Sirius replied pensively, putting an arm around Remus and James, “But I’ll settle for this.”

 Advent: @maraudersandco​ @gollyderek​

All fics: @hermione-is-my-queen

James tags:  @blackpinkdolan @blushingskywalker @thebabblingbookworm   @cherrie511  @imlukesnirvana @avengersassemblee @maraudersandco  @sly-vixen-up2nogood   @katbernoulli     @sirius-lysad   @cherrie511   @siriuslyjanhvi   @aikeia @evyiione  @minerva26love @your-typical-giggle

#rainandhotchocolate #james x reader #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter x !muggle reader #!muggle reader #James potter fanfiction #marauders imagine

[wondersofdreaming]

Lost Boys - THREE

Characters: August Walker / Captain Syverson / Walter Marshall

Word count: 2.389

Warnings: Family reunion. Memory overload. Realization. Hurt. Self-loading.

Author’s note: Everything in this story is a figment of my imagination, with inspiration and snippets from the movies ‘Mission: Impossible - Fallout’, ‘Sand Castle’, ‘Nomis/Night Hunter’. This is pure fanfiction. If something doesn’t make sense, it’s not supposed to.

I do now own any of the characters from the movies that I write about in this story. Only the OFC’s are mine.

Tag: @katerka88​ @littlefreya​ @hell1129-blog​ @radaofrivia​ @gothwhopper​ @fcgrizi​ @vania-marie​ @mary-ann84​ @sciapod​ @mitzwinchester​ @omgkatinka​ @mis-lil-red (your tag isn’t working 😢)

MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated. Seriously, please tell me all the good and bad stuff, else I won’t be able to develop into a better writer if I don’t know what I’m doing right and wrong. I swear I don’t bite.

[ONE] [TWO] [FOUR] [FIVE] [SIX] [SEVEN] [EIGHT] [NINE] [TEN]

Lucas was sent home to Georgia to heal. Joshua, the Syverson’s biological son, flew across the Atlantic Ocean to meet and bring him home. Silvia Syverson was a stern woman, and when she wanted her younger son to pick up her adoptive older son that is what she would get. His brother had been curious about what had happened, as a medical practitioner he was also compassionate and wanted to help in any way he could.

A 12-hour plane ride later Lucas was back in his childhood home, lying in his old bedroom filled with rock music posters. On his dresser sat an old boombox and next to it, a towering stack of CDs.

Silvia had demanded he got some rest. There he was. Staring at the ceiling like a good little boy. Fuck. He was a captain in the US Army. He had seen death and destruction enough to last two lifetimes, and he was still a little momma’s boy.

After dinner that evening, Lucas asked his mother for the things he had with him when he was sent to be fostered by them.

“Are you sure you want to rip up in the past?” Silvia asked him, her brows pushed together in concern.

“Ma, I need to know.”

She sighed and motioned for him to follow her. Joshua was right behind the two. All three entered the basement and towards the wall filled with stacks of boxes.

“One of them should be labelled Trevor Thompson.”

Lucas started lifting his uninjured arm to one of the top boxes, but a steely look from his mother made him back away and sit on the stairs.

“Joshua, come help your old mother,” Silvia commanded her younger son, who was snickering behind his older brother.

“There’s nothing old about you, ma,” the younger man said and kissed his mother’s cheek. He started taking box after box down. Of course, the box that belonged to Trevor Thompson was at the bottom of the pile.

It contained Trevor’s birth certificate, fostering papers, adoption papers, name changing papers, and a black photo album. Lucas opened it with one hand and a pair of blue eyes were staring right back at him. The same colour as his own haunted eyes. Beneath the photo was written ‘Jennifer Thompson’. The next page shocked him even more. ‘William Thompson’, Lucas was the spitting image of him, besides the eye colour. In his dream, his father was always too far away to get a close enough look besides some minuscule features.

“Wow, Luc, you look just like your dad,” Joshua exclaimed, “You even have the same freckle on your lower lip.”

“Josh, that is creepy as hell that you notice stuff like that,” Lucas looked at his brother with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m a doctor, I would be a terrible one, if I didn’t notice the little things. Now turn the page and let’s see those brothers of yours.”

Lucas sighed, preparing himself mentally to take a look at his biological brothers. Brothers he couldn’t remember until a week ago. They had shared a womb, so why the hell couldn’t he remember them?

Silvia noticed the change in her son. She put a hand on his good shoulder and squeezed. He looked into her green eyes that were giving him the confidence to face the past.

“Lucas, you were five years old. Don’t beat yourself up for not remembering.”

“I just have this feeling that we were so very close as children. I feel bad for forgetting them. They are my brothers. I’d do anything for my brothers, those in the army and even Josh.”

“Gee thanks, bro.”

Lucas chuckled and turned the page. Three identical young boys were smiling back at him. One of them had a front tooth missing. Probably himself. He couldn’t even see the difference between who was who in that picture. Only the names under each boy answered his question.

Trevor, Oliver and James.

“Aw, Luc, look at how innocent you looked once. Now you’re a grumpy old man with a beard,” Joshua was teasing him. Lucas ignored his little brother and looked at the next page, which was of the entire family sitting on a porch swing all together, laughing and smiling. The boys were smaller, maybe three years old at the time.

A sense of sadness washed over him. The flush of some childhood memories overwhelmed him. Lucas closed the book. He handed it back to his mother and walked away from the basement. Both mother and brother calling his name, he didn’t listen, just kept walking. He needed to be alone, to collect his thoughts. His mind was flooding with a million memories, his heart was racing, his legs just kept walking, until he was standing at the end of the driveway. He went into a sprint and ran as fast as he could to the beach, or as fast as his broken arm would allow him.

The beach was almost void of people. Only a few were out swimming or walking along the edge of the water. Lucas sat down and just let his mind wander. Letting all the memories in. His brain was throbbing, the feeling was like it wanted to escape from the cramped space of his skull.

Memories of smiles, laughter, love. He remembered the devastating feeling when two policemen came to the front door and told their neighbour, who had been watching over them, that their parents had died. A social worker, Marcy Kane, had taken care of the boys until they were divided into new families. He remembered a lot of yelling and screaming.

“They are only young boys. You shouldn’t separate them. They need each other!” Marcy roared at her boss.

“Nobody wants to take in three boys at the same time, so either you calm down, or you are off the case.”

The next he remembered was Marcy crouching in front of the three boys. They hadn’t said a word since the news of their parents’ death. They had vowed not to talk or be happy again without their parents.

“James, Oliver, Trevor. I’m sorry.” She started and hugged each boy in her warm embrace. It nearly made Trevor cry. As the eldest of three, he needed to stay strong for his brothers.

The families came and picked up each of the boys, separating them, forcing them apart from each other. Marcy put the medallion of Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton over each boy before they departed. None of the boys cried. They had made another pact, to find each other when they were old enough. A vow all three of them forgot as they grew up.

Now it was time to make that vow come true.

Lucas stood and brushed the sand from his well-shaped ass. With a clear mind, he walked home to get some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

Joshua drove him to city hall. They released his papers but there was nothing hinting where his brothers had ended up.

Back home he called an old army buddy, Aiden, who had started a private detective company when he was released from the military. It took Aiden a few hours before he called back.

“Aiden, any news?” Lucas asked the minute he answered the phone.

“Yeah. I have some good and a whole mountain of bad, which one do you want first?” His friend told him.

“Give me the good ones. You found my brother? James?”

“I did. He was sent to live with a family in Minnesota. He’s still there. He changed his name to Walter Matthew Marshall, and guess what, he’s a police detective. He used to be S.W.A.T. and, dude, he has a daughter.”

“I have a niece?”

“Yes, congratulations Uncle Lucas. Are you ready for the bad news?”

“Hit me.”

“The brother, Oliver, you met in Iraq, he was moved to Virginia and changed his name to August Christopher Walker.”

“August? What the fuck kind of name is that? August is a month, not a name.”

“That’s not the worst part. Lucas, he was in the CIA.”

“He was definitely well trained. What else?”

“He rebelled.”

“What do you mean ‘rebelled’? What did he do?”

“Luc… your brother is wanted for planning to set off nuclear bombs around the world.”

Lucas nearly dropped his phone. His parents and brother were giving him worried looks. He went to sit down on the sofa before telling Aiden to continue.

“They thought he had died somewhere north of India, but they haven’t found his body. And there’s a warrant for his head from all the intelligence agencies around the globe.”

“How much?”

Nothing. Aiden kept his mouth shut.

“Aiden, tell me. How much?”

A heavy sigh could be heard through the speaker.

“A hundred.”

“A hundred what? Just a hundred? A hundred thousand? Spit it out, man.”

“A hundred million dollars. All the agencies want him gone, Lucas.”

“What does the warrant say? Dead or alive?”

“Both.”

Lucas groaned in frustration. What the hell had his brother done? Why had he done it? What happened to him?

“Thanks, Aiden. I really appreciate your help.”

“No problem. Call me if you need any help. Any kind of help.”

“Will do.”

Lucas pushed the end button and threw the phone on the coffee table. His mother came to sit next to him. She touched his left bicep, trying to comfort him without saying anything.

“What now?” Joshua asked and sat on his other side.

“I don’t know.”

“Son, look at me,” his adoptive father, John Syverson, was a rather large man himself. Don’t be fooled by his grey hair and grey beard, he might look like a nice old man, but he could kill people with a spoon. Lucas heard the authoritative tone in his general father’s voice and looked into the compassionate green eyes. “What are my rules?”

“Always be kind.” Joshua and Lucas said at the same time.

“Treat your woman like a queen,” Silvia chimed in.

“Don’t judge people based on the first look,” Joshua continued.

“Don’t do things to make other people happy, do them to make yourself happy,” Silvia smiled.

“And never leave a brother behind,” Lucas’ voice was firm. His mind was made up.

“I’ll book you a ticket to Minnesota.”

“Who’s going to Minnesota?” A soft female voice said from the hall. Four pair of eyes looked at the curvaceous woman entering the living room. The Syverson’s only daughter, who had been born a year after they had adopted Lucas. Her long curly brown hair was put up in a bun, her glasses sitting at the edge of her pretty little nose. She had her father’s deep green eyes.

“Melanie, darling, we didn’t know you were coming home,” Silvia exclaimed and went to hug her daughter.

“I heard through the grapevine that the captain was home, so I had to come home and say hello,” Melanie smirked at Lucas and squeezed his left side, avoiding his casted arm.

“Good to see you, shorty. How’s the University treating you?” Lucas asked and kissed his sister’s forehead. She went to get kisses and hugs from her other brother and father, before plumbing down with a huge sigh on the armchair.

“I love my job. I love that I can do research all day long, I never get tired of that, but lately…” She started.

“Lately, what?” Joshua gave his sister a quizzical look.

“Lately it’s been a bit boring. It’s too much of the same. I know it is what I signed up for when I accepted the job, but I was also promised more fieldwork, where I would be able to travel and study the texts, ceramics, and people up close, not from a computer where someone is streaming. So, I’m taking a sabbatical, one year where I figure out, if I still want to do desk research or if I need to find a job that is better suited for what I want and need.”

Silvia and John gave each other a look that only a married couple could give. They were communicating non-verbally. Lucas looked at his parents.

“No,” he said sternly. “Not in a million years.”

“You need someone to help you,” Silvia told her son in the same hard voice.

“I can take care of myself.”

“You’ll need help with the cast.”

“Josh can help me.”

“Sorry, bro. I have to be back at work on Monday.”

Lucas sighed and turned to the young woman, who had put her hair down. Her long curl cascading down her shoulder.

“Melanie, will you come with me to Minnesota?” He said through gritted teeth.

“Anything for you, Luc. What’s going on in Minnesota?”

“We’re going to find my brothers.”

Lucas had filled his sister in on his history. She had taken one look at all his documents and said she would figure out why in the world they had to be separated into three different states. They dropped their belongings off at a nearby hotel, walking to the precinct where Walter Marshall worked.

The secretary at the front desk didn’t even look up when they entered and just told them where to go.

“Hey Marshall, when did you break your arm? And I thought you said something ‘bout never wanting to cut your hair.” A young man, fresh from the police academy by the looks of it, was yelling from the other side of the room. He walked over and gave Melanie an appreciative look over. Lucas clenched his left hand into a fist; it wasn’t his dominant hand, but he could still break the little fucker’s nose.

“Hi, we’re looking for Walter Marshall, could you direct us to his office?” Melanie asked as she blinked a few times. Lucas smiled; he knew the look in her eyes. The charm-glare as he called it. That look that had gotten her out of trouble countless times.

“Well, miss, he’s right here,” he motioned at Lucas.

“Cade, get back to work or I’ll wring your neck,” a deep grumpy voice said behind them. Lucas turned around to look into another mirror version of himself. Walter Marshall was standing with his leg spread, his arms crossed over his broad chest, wearing a black jumper. His eyes widened as he looked at Lucas. “My office, now.”

#Henry Cavill #This man #Lost Boys #Series #My story #Fanfiction #Chapter three #Triplets #August Walker #Captain Syverson #Walter Marshall #I need a drink #henry cavill fanfic

[anavakarian]

Day 14: throat

Knocks on the door.

I gaze up at the clock on the wall, worried that I’m late. But I am not. Rebecca was meant to pick me up at 7.30 and it’s just 7.05...

“Well, this is strange,” I mutter to myself, leaving the eyeshadow brush on the mirror shelf trying to make the lesser possible mess out of my make up. Rebecca is as punctual as hell and, considering the tenor of the event we are invited to, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was actually a bit late. There is no chance she would be this early at my apartment...

However, the knocks are back, firm and insistent.

“Ok, ok… I’m coming. Just wait…” I answer, mildly annoyed because of the interruption, crossing the distance to the door while securing the towel around my body.

Perhaps my neighbour, Lisa, needs anything…?

However, the spyhole of my brand new security door gives away immediately who is on the other side of it: dark blond hair styled sideways - as he’s grown it since we met - broad shoulders and icy green eyes veiled by a deep frown wait at the other side of my door.

What on Earth is Adam doing here and where is Rebecca?

A rush of nervousness mixes together with mild concern. Then, I realize that opening is taking me too long and he is about to knock for the third time. A bit afraid of the consequences that the action might have on my door integrity, I open it immediately.

Commanding agent Adam du Mortain scowls at me - like always - stiff and taut in front of my front door, one hand held out and about to make contact with the empty space where the wood was before.

His green eyes meet mine and, just for a second, his gaze soften and I want to think that they are expressing the words that he is not able to. Something like ‘I’m quite pleased to see you again, Detective ,’ perhaps?

Obviously, the string that leaves his mouth differs with my silly expectations. “Why did it take you so long to open, Detective?” he enquires with a stern tone and an even more severe look in his eyes.

I can’t help but roll my eyes at him. On a normal day, I would retort something back, as ironic and bold as I was able to. But today I’m in a sort of a hurry and still concern about Rebecca’s whereabouts. “Where is she?” I ask, dryly and worried.

Adam seems to suddenly understand. “Agent Greene didn’t think she could make it on time and requested for me to take you to the event. We will meet her there.”

Well, that actually sounds quite a lot like my mother: she’s been neglecting our relationship for so many years that it is not a surprise anymore. “Ok. Fair enough, I suppose,” I exhale with a wry smile.

Not that I’m complaining about the good-looking change, but things have been a bit… strange between Adam and me after that brief but intense ‘holding hands’ moment at the Carnival that I still have not very clear what it meant. We practically haven’t seen each other since then, two weeks now, but for work-related stuff and more and more reports.

“Well, I think you are here a bit earlier than I was expecting... Can you want to come in?”

I open the door fully and it’s then when we grow suddenly aware of what the other one is wearing. Adam looks absolutely amazing - hot - with his tuxedo and I feel my heart stutter at the sight. His green eyes roam down to my shoulders, my bare arms and the towel wrapped around my body on a quick scan. And, as if he has been struck by lightning, his eyes open widely and his gaze darts back up to my face, suddenly realizing that I have just come out from the shower and, yes, I am not wearing anything under that towel.

I have to conceal a grin while walking back into my living room. It would be the perfect moment for a tease, but my hair is starting to drip on the floor and I should be getting ready for the party.

“Do you want a glass of wine?”.

Adam has nestled himself in his usual space in my house, beside the industrial style window and as far as he physically can from me. “I’m driving…”

His stoic expression makes me chuckle and I get into the kitchen in search of the Bourdeaux I bought especially for him. I pour some into a glass and go back to the living with the offering in my hand.

He eyes me with something similar to mistrust and extreme weariness as I walk closer and I find extremely funny the way he keeps his eyes locked in mine with intensity, wondering if that keeps him from sliding them down my nakedness under the towel.

“Here,” I offer. “Do me a favour. Unwind a little tonight, ok? I’ll drive the SUV.”

“Detective…” he complains with a strict undertone that I brush off, placing the glass in his hand.

“It’s not up for discussion, otherwise, we’ll be late,” I cut him off stubbornly before walking into my bedroom to get ready.

There are no further complains or, at least, I can’t hear them when I shut the door behind me.

Some curling iron, makeup and dressing up later, I’m ready. Out of a sudden, I realize how much this actually looks like a date. I don’t want to think that Rebecca has sent us up, but I wouldn’t be entirely surprised either… Although I would rather not to think about my own mother acting as matchmaker: that would be so out of place for her…

However, the gorgeous vampire I have a damned crush with is still waiting for me in my living room, looking quite smart. And there are so many things that I’m waiting for him to say… Things to figure out…

I take a deep breath in, trying to ignore the fact that I am nervous. Not much. Just a little bit. Enough to make me hyper-aware of how fast my heart is beating when I grab the door handle. A goofy smile grows in my lips with the silly thought of ‘having a date with Adam’. Like if this was a high school prom dance and not a fundraising event at the townhouse with all Unit Bravo members, my mother, Major Friedman and la creme de la creme of Wayhaven’s jet set.

Shaking my head to wipe off my silly teenager thoughts, I open the door bravely and step out of my room.

Adam springs up nearly immediately - he is sitting down on the sofa, to my surprise, instead of being perched still by the window. His glass of wine is empty on the coffee table and I don’t know what is more striking: the fact that he has actually listened to me or to realize for the second time how good he actually looks in that tuxedo.

He stares at me with a blank expression. His lips babble something that his mouth refuses to transform into words, although he clears his throat on an attempt to conceal it.

I arch a questioning brow at him, pursing my lips with a grin and pointing at my dress - red, long, strapless neckline... “Now is your turn to compliment,” I tease him, trying to ease the strange tension that is clearly building in my apartment.

And it seems to work because he chuckles and I get the prize of a fleeting sight of dimples on his cheeks.

“You look beautiful, Eve,” he declares, sincere, warm and soft as I’ve never seen him before.

His words make my knees buckle and a stupid grin grows on my lips. And I’m pretty sure I blush at his statement.

Why does the distance between us feel so unbearable? Is it wrong that I want to be closer to him? Is it wrong that I want to kiss him? To feel his skin under my touch and his lips on mine? Is it bad that I want him right now?

And by the way he is devouring me with his eyes, I can tell that he wants the same than me...

I bravely take one step closer towards him.

His gaze hardens. His body stiffens.

Great mistake… The thin spell that is keeping that moment suspended in time, dispels in a cloud of smoke.

Like if embarrassed of his own desires, scared of the level of intimacy our shared moment is reaching or terrified about the possible outcome that this instant could lead into, Adam steps back, running away from me.

Like he always does.

And it feels like an ice storm after the warm moment we have just shared.

“I think we should get going, Detective. Otherwise, we will be late,” he announces, veiled order and escape route well planned within his words.

I deep breathing, half-disappointed and half-amused at his damned emotional constipation, although I can’t avoid cursing him mentally.

C’mon! Who is he trying to fool at this point, apart from himself? It is obvious to everyone and it must be obvious for him, too! There’s something more between us than a simple colleagues relationship.

More than a simple friendship.

I deep-breath and remind myself that there’s no hurry and that I don’t mind waiting. Because I know that, if anything is to happen, it will be worth every minute of this give and take game we are playing.

So, I pull my best smile at him - sweet, flirty and bold at the same time - and I choose my next words carefully by their intended innuendo.

“Whenever you’re ready, Agent du Mortain.”

Link to AO3

#31daysofwayhaven #31 Days of Wayhaven #twc #The Wayhaven Chronicles #adam du mortain #female detective #party time #adam in a tuxedo #lots of grammar mistakes because I haven't checked it #sorry

[minsugapie]

Neighbours

[GIF is not mine :)]

Neighbours

Jungkook x reader

Neighbours au

Fluff, slight angst

4k+ words

Quick A/N: One of the boys is kind of a “bad guy” in this but let’s overlook that because I love him nonetheless, and this is obviously a work of fiction. Please enjoy xx

—————————————————

It had been a few weeks since you’d moved into your new apartment. Although it was small, it was a step up from your childhood bedroom right across the hall from your parents’ room. Having people (boys) over was a nightmare. In your new place, you’d noticed the first time you were laying in bed that the walls between you and your neighbour were very thin. You could practically hear him (or her) breathing. You assumed it was a him, however, because there were always girls walking out of his door in the mornings, not that whoever it was could not have been a lesbian. You just had this feeling that it was a man. And, you heard faint, beautiful singing while the shower ran. 

Plus, judging by the looks of the women that left, he was a hot man. 

You’d never once gotten a glimpse of your neighbour within those few weeks, and you wondered if he ever left his apartment during the day. You knew he left at night because you heard his door slam at the same time, literally every night. 

It wasn’t until a Sunday morning that the two of you made your first interaction, even if it was through the thin walls separating your living spaces. You decided to have a few of your good friends over for breakfast. It would have been fine, but the four of you drank a few too many mimosas. 

Your best friend, Grace, had an unusually loud voice in general, and she was funny. So naturally, you, and your two other friends, Mina and Jade, were practically rolling on the floor laughing at the story she was currently telling you.

Everything was going fine until you heard a loud knock on your wall. Everyone immediately shut up. A pin drop could have been heard. It would’ve been thought impossible only 2 seconds prior. 

“Could you please keep it down a little? I’m trying to sleep,” he groaned from the other side of the wall. His words sobered you slightly. Your neighbour was actually talking to you. 

“It’s the day time! Maybe next time you should think about that when you bring your women home in the middle of the night and keep me awake. Your bed must be against the same wall as mine because I swear I can hear everything that happens…” You thought this would cause him to calm down, but with his response, you could practically feel his smirk. 

“Oh yeah? Lucky you. You get a free show every other night.” 

Grace’s eyes widened at his words, and she started giggling. You motioned for her to be quiet, same with your other friends. 

“Well, Kookie,” you mocked the name that you always heard the women moan, “I don’t think you’re as good as you think.” It was a lie. You could clearly tell that he knew what he was doing with them. 

“We should test it out then,” he droned, enunciating every syllable. Your friends were just about losing it at this point when Grace decided to speak up again. 

Thank God she whispered. “You really do need to get some. It’s been so long since Tae…”

Taehyung wasn’t someone you imagined thinking about this morning. It wasn’t that you two broke up on bad terms or anything. He just simply fell out of love. It happened. You knew that. However, the thought of him still stung slightly. Although you knew that you could no longer have him around, you still missed him. 

Shooting Grace a look, you wondered if your neighbour had heard her whisper. You couldn’t be too sure with these walls being paper thin, but you still replied to him with confidence, “In your dreams.”

“Even though I’ve never seen you, neighbour, you’ve definitely visited my dreams. I can tell you about them if you wa—” You cut off his sentence with a bang on the wall. 

“It’s fine. We’ll be quiet. Just go back to bed.” You could hear his laughter on the other side as he retreated back to his room. 

“Oh,” he added from another room. You could tell because it was more muffled and faint, “and my name is Jungkook.”

It’d been quite the morning.

Unfortunately for you, the words that Jungkook said to you that Sunday morning had stuck for a few days to come. You wondered if you should take him up on his offer. Was it legit or was he simply playing with you to sound cool in front of you and your friends?

Being a girl was so hard sometimes. 

Grace was bombarding you with messages regarding Jungkook. You were honestly sure that she would have walked right over there and taken him up on his word if it wasn’t for Hoseok. The two of them had been dating since the dawn of time, and yet they still have such strong libido. 

You chose to ignore her for the most part. Jungkook, on the other hand, was harder to ignore. He’d started saying good morning to you through the walls and singing louder while in the shower to perform for you. You couldn’t complain; it was like having a new friend. 

Still, it was on the Friday night that something changed in your relationship —he spoke to you while you were going to bed. 

“Neighbour, are you there?” He asked. You could tell that he was in his bed as well, the sound coming to you fairly clearly. 

You hesitated. Should you talk to him? Wasn’t it kind of stranger danger to talk to people you didn’t know?

“I know you’re there. You can’t ignore me,” he continued, letting his fingers tap the wall lightly. 

You smile, thankful for the barrier. Despite all the inner turmoil regarding Jungkook, you liked it. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready to go out at a time like this?”

He didn’t skip a beat when he answered, “I’m taking a night off from sex. I figured I should get to bed early for once.”

You had to roll your eyes at his words. He knew exactly how to make you scoff. Men. 

“You’re a peach. That means that I can get some sleep too.” It was mostly spoken as a joke, but you knew there was also an underlying truth to your words. You had been having trouble sleeping lately, but you knew it wasn’t because of your neighbours sex drive. Your brain just would not shut off. 

He chose not to comment on your joke. Instead, he asked, “Hey, neighbour, who’s Tae?”

You almost fell out of bed at the question. You knew he had heard what Grace said. Choosing your words carefully, you spoke, “Taehyung is somebody that I used to know.”

A few seconds passed before Jungkook’s voice came, softer than usual. “An ex-boyfriend?”

You sighed, not believing that you were talking about this. “Ex-fiancé, actually.”

“So how long has it been?” You knew that he was asking about the last time you’d had any sort of intimate moment with a man, but you didn’t care. You guessed it felt good to talk about it in such an impersonal manner. 

“7 months.” You couldn’t believe it yourself. Honestly, it hadn’t felt like that long since you two ended your engagement, but time flies when you’re hurting. “But anyway, why do you care so much?” Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you were determined to stay strong. 

“Because I can tell you’re lonely by the music you listen to. Believe me, I get it,” he shared. You heard him shuffling around his bed. This simple phrase was enough to alter your opinion of him. 

Maybe he wasn’t some horny jerk that lived next door. 

“Oh yeah? You know about loneliness?” You probed. You told him your sob story, now it was his time to speak up. 

“I lost my brother, my best friend, to a drunk driving accident last year. I’ve kind of been like an emotionless rock since, or so my friends tell me.”

Your mouth went dry at his words. You couldn’t think of anything worse than a loved-one passing —getting killed. You couldn’t imagine life without your older brother. He was such a constant in your life. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, Jungkook. Really, I didn’t mea—”

“It’s fine. I’m coping.” 

“Is that why you bring girls home? To feel a connection, or anything really?”

“I guess so.”

You couldn’t help but let the tears slide down your face. You hadn’t planned on having such a heart-to-heart with your neighbour tonight. You’d had you tall glass of wine before bed, hoping it would knock you out, but now it’s just heightening your emotional instability. 

Quickly, you jumped out of bed, making your way out of your apartment. Whether it was the wine or simply your need to not be alone right now, you didn’t know, but you found yourself knocking on the door to Jungkook’s apartment. 

It swung open in a second, and you weren’t surprised to see a tall, handsome man in front of you. It was only now that you realized what exactly you were wearing. You had on some Christmas pyjamas, although it was April, and your hair was in a disarray around your head. He, on the other hand, looked scrumptious in a pair of boxers and a loose v-neck t-shirt. 

You swallowed, taking him in. You still had tears on your cheeks, but that didn’t matter when you threw yourself into his arms. He was hesitant at first to reciprocate the hug, but his strong arms wrapped around your body, pulling you closer into him. 

When you finally broke the embrace, he whispered, “Thank you.”

A small smile appeared on both of your faces. Biting your lip, you were the first to say something more. “I guess it’s finally nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

He looked like he was really thinking about what he wanted to say to you. “If I’d have known you were so beautiful, I might have knocked on your door instead of the other way around.”

A blush rose up your neck and into the apples of your cheeks at his words. It was odd being called beautiful in such a direct way.

Awkwardly, he ushered you inside and scratched the back of his neck. He didn’t seem like the confident guy that you had gotten to know through your walls. 

Trying to beat the awkwardness, you grabbed his hand and dragged him to the bedroom. It wasn’t hard to find. The floor plans were nearly identical, only opposite. 

You saw the side of the bed in which he slept and made your way to the other one, climbing under the covers. “Are you getting in?” 

He didn’t move from his spot next to the bed. “What are you doing?” He asked, clearly confused. 

“Getting ready to sleep?” You thought it would have been obvious. You were tucked in and comfortable. 

You felt the bed dip beside you and turned to Jungkook to see his face. He really did look lonely. His face was void of emotion as you scooted slightly closer to him. 

“My mom always told me that if you’re going to be lonely, it’s better to be lonely with someone else. It didn’t really make sense to me growing up, but I think I’m beginning to understand.” The advice that your mom gave you wasn’t something you planned on telling him, but it simply slipped out. Darn, that wine. 

Jungkook tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear and closed his eyes for a few long seconds before opening them again. “Will you stay all night?” He asked, almost looking like a child at the question. 

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving.”

————————————

Weeks went by, and you found yourself sleeping over at Jungkook’s more than your own place, but the man would not make a move on you. Like at all. He was very strictly platonic, and it was making you frustrated. How could he be so flirty through the wall, even to this day, and call you beautiful but not make a move while you were literally sleeping in his bed? It didn’t make sense to you.

You knew after that first night that you wanted to at least sleep with the guy, and after spending all this time with him, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t developed some feelings for him. 

It wasn’t just at night that you two would hangout, but you seemed to have developed quite a friendship with him. Actually, you two would always be together. He’d bring over food that he cooked, even though it wasn’t amazing. You had afternoons of video games, where he would show you what to do with the remote control because you could barely walk without looking at the ground. 

Today, you were playing a game, of which you couldn’t even remember the name, and having some wine, when all of a sudden, you decided to speak. Remember, you had no filter when you had wine in your system.

“How come you’ve never kissed me?” You regretted it as soon as you said it. If you’d been sober, you would have cringed at your words. 

It didn’t seem like Jungkook heard what you just said, so you simply continued staring at the game. It was only when he realized that you were no longer moving that he seemed to register your words. 

Pausing the game, he looked at you with a confused expression on his face. “What do you mean?”

You knew Jungkook could be clueless, but you didn’t know how thick he could really be. You took a deep breath, pushing forward because you jumped this cliff, so you couldn’t turn back. “Do you not like me at all? Because I’m gonna be honest with you, I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you.”

Jungkook was surprised at your words. “You’re serious?” 

“Why would I lie about something like that?” Your confidence was wearing thin, and you started to sink further into the couch, hugging the nearest pillow to your chest. 

“You’re serious right now?” Jungkook was still taken aback by this whole situation. 

Getting up, you were ready to leave. This situation was ridiculous, and you valued your pride more than what you were subjecting yourself to. 

“Wait,” you heard him from behind you. You had opened the door by now, and you were practically in the hallway. You felt a hand grab hold of your wrist and then in one shift movement, you were pinned against the doorframe. If anyone opened their door, the close proximity of you and Jungkook would be known to the world. It felt great, having his hands grip your waist and his nose brush yours felt natural. You could see the light brown in his eyes that you never noticed much before and the scar on his cheek that you had grown to love. 

“Jungkook, I—” Your words caught in your mouth as he pressed his lips to yours eagerly. It seemed as if this moment was never going to come. He pushed himself against you with everything he had, and you marvelled in the mild suffocation. His hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you even closer to him. 

You were just getting into it, Jungkook wanting further access to you, when a cough came from somewhere in the hallway. “What the hell?”

Jungkook didn’t break your kiss, although you gasped, as he answered the man, “Go away.” You cracked an eye opened and saw that he tried to signal the man away with a rude hand gesture. 

In a second, Jungkook was ripped off of you. “That’s my fiancée that you’re kissing, Buddy.”

Your brained seemed to snap back to reality. It was Taehyung. You knew his voice from anywhere. Your eyes met his as you said, “Fiancée? Last time I checked, you broke up with me a month before our wedding, claiming that you didn’t ever love me, and that you wanted to see other people.” You broke at your own words. You had lied to everyone about the amicable breakup, even yourself. 

“Baby, I didn’t realize how much I actually love you unti—” You were ready to cut Tae off, but you heard a voice that wasn’t your own. 

Jungkook sounded livid. “So you thought she’d be waiting for you when you decided to come around? Well, you’re too late, Taehyung because she’s over you.”

Hearing Jungkook’s words wasn’t as comforting as you thought it might have been. This situation was too much. Storming away, you went back to your apartment and slammed the door on the two boys in the hall. Once inside, you slid down the door, trying to hold in your tears but failed. 

Were you still in love with Tae? Did you really like Jungkook? Why was your life so boring for the last seven months and now everything was happening at once? 

————————————

It was a week before you talked to anyone. You were sure that it was Grace that gave Taehyung your address. How could it not have been? You weren’t mad at her because you had told her that you were on good terms. She couldn’t have known any better. 

Jungkook knocked on the walls, serenaded you before you went to bed and tried to make you laugh during the day. You were grateful to have him there, but after seeing Taehyung again, you were skeptical about starting something new with someone, especially someone with Jungkook’s womanizer reputation. 

Although, after spending some time with him, you wondered how he was able to get so many women. He seemed so shy and reserved around you. Actually, you were surprised that he didn’t try anything that very first night that you were together. Maybe it was all those women who made the first move?

You knew you were being stubborn and insane, but how could you not? You finally got your kiss with Jungkook and then Taehyung had to come and ruin it, but what was new? Deciding against the little voice in your head that tried to keep you from living your life, you headed next door. 

You needed to at least talk to Jungkook. You don’t even know what happened between him and Tae after you went back into your apartment. You don’t really want to know either. 

You only needed to knock on the door once before it opened to reveal his fresh face and wet hair. He must have just showered. It was almost time for bed after all. 

“Oh!” He seemed surprised to see you there, but he let you through the doorway regardless. 

“I want to talk to you,” you revealed with a small smile. You set yourself up on the floor, back leaning against the couch. His television was on some random drama, but you were only interested in one thing at the moment. 

It took him a second to come sit beside you, but when he finally did, you realized that you were 100% over Taehyung and everything that you could feel was directed toward Jungkook. 

“Are you here to talk about Taehyung?” He appeared reserved again, still different than he was through the walls. 

You shook your head, turning to him. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Then why are you here?”

You took a deep breath, watching his every move. His eyes roamed down your body so slowly that heat flooded to your cheeks. And he noticed. 

“We never got to talk about what happened. Taehyung was never supposed to be there, and I haven’t even thought about him for so long. I’m so grateful for you, actually,” you shyly confessed, scooting your body closer to his. Jungkook radiated warmth, and he was so inviting… not to mention, he currently looked delicious. 

His fingers inched away from his body, hesitantly finding yours resting on the ground. To be clear, there were many things that you found you loved about him, and his fingers were definitely within top five. 

You couldn’t handle the slow pace that this was moving. He seemed so reluctant to do anything with you. By the way he had kissed you that day, you knew that he wanted to, so again, why was he clueless?

Feigning confidence, you swiftly moved, so you were positioned on his lap. His hands went into the air, almost like he was unsure where to put them. Clearly, you were going to have to do all the work. 

Your hands ran up his chest, feeling the muscle that he’d clearly been working on, until you reached his neck, curling your arms around until you laced your fingers into the back of his hair. His hands finally rested on your hips, slowly beginning to grip them. All of a sudden, you found yourself under him, the weight from his center flush against yours, keeping you down ont he floor. 

“You’re just a bag full of surprises,” he commented, moving one had up the side of your body to your face while the other held him up. 

“Oh, shut up,” was the last thing that was muttered in the apartment for a long while. 

You pulled him down to you, wrapping your legs around his waist. The first time you had kissed, you couldn’t really pay attention, because it was so needy, but this time, the kiss was real and raw. You knew you wouldn’t get interrupted with the door closed and nobody next door. 

You couldn’t believe that it was finally happening. His hips moved against yours, and you responded by opening your mouth to him. You felt his smile against your lips, and this only gave you more confidence to try to move this along. You wanted him right now. You hadn’t been this close to a man in months, and he knew it. 

From your position below him, you moved your hands down his back and under his shirt, brushing your nails lightly along his skin as you inched it up. He finally picked up on a signal and removed the article of clothing quickly. You’d seen him shirtless of course, because that was the way he slept, but this was a totally different situation, and you wanted to see, and feel, more of him. 

“More,” you muttered against his lips. He puffed a small amount of air in your mouth, surprising you enough to back away and help you remove your top. His sweatpants were a gift from God, but you wanted them in the pile with all the other discarded clothes. Standing up, and bringing you with him, he took off his pants, followed by yours.

You pushed him onto the couch, both of you, notably Jungkook, now positive about what was going to happen. 

————————————

You were laying with each other on the couch, now with at least one article of clothing each and still breathing a little heavy, when Jungkook’s husky voice whispered in your ear, “So what happens now?”

You were expecting this question, so you had the answer right away. Turning around, so you were facing him, you pecked his lips once before answering, “I’d like to keep being together, if that’s okay with you?” It came out as more of a question because although you were certain, you were still unsure about his feelings on the matter. 

He let out a breath of relief. “Yeah. Me too. Actually, I never answered your question before.”

“What question?”

“You asked me why I never kissed you, and the reason is that I was selfish and wanted you, but I was scared that you were going to only use me for sex and then leave. It’s happened so many times. Plus, I can’t lose anymore people I’m close to.” Your heart almost broke in half at his words. The poor guy was probably used so many times. Beautiful people are often taken advantage of. 

Pushing back some of his hair, you scratched his scalp. “I want for us to go out in public and go on dates and hold hands and make people jealous and have people comment on how we should get a room and do all the cliché things that I love about being in a relationship.”

He closed his eyes and hummed at your words, a smile adorning his beautiful lips. “I really do hate myself for waiting so long.”

MASTERLIST

#bts jungkook #bts hoseok #bts j-hope #bts tae #bts v #bts taehyung #bts kookie #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts suga #bts rm #bts namjoon #bts min yoongi #bts one shot #bts reaction #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts #bts jimin #bts jin #i love this

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Put Together (BC x Reader)

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Street Artist!Bangchan x Reader

Warnings: No warnings apply

Summary: Moving in together is a pretty big milestone which goes accompanied by a fun shopping trip to IKEA, wandering through the showrooms to gain inspiration for the shared home.

Putting things together, however, proves to be very difficult for a kangaroo and a koala.

Masterlist

Everything has a bright and dark side for all in the world contains positivity and its counterpart. Such is the way of existence, although the shadow side might not be realized until later when trying to put together the furniture bought for the brand new shared studio in a redeveloped part of the town, the community trying to save face by improving neglected neighbourhoods just enough in the hopes of attracting young people to thus let it flourish at their hands. A successful endeavour, since many couples in the prime of their lives have taken up residence in the harbour district with refurbished warehouses decorated with approved graffiti, some works even by the hand of the Australian boyfriend of a mere though steady nine months.

The trip to IKEA was a lot of fun, singing along to songs playing on the voluminous radio on the top of lungs while waiting in a terrible rush hour because more minds had the idea of visiting the massive home depot on a dreary day. It was the sole way to keep the simmering irritation thanks to standing endlessly frozen among honking cars to a bare minimum, fingers entwined while getting lost in the melodies.

The briefly picked up on looks of adoration as interior showrooms were scoured for inspiration were heart-melting, Chris noting down all the chosen pieces of furniture on the small slip of paper with the cheap company pencil regardless of the fact the decisions were basically made without leaving many choices to the blonde boy. When remarking upon the continuous silent agreement, only occasionally providing some input on colour choice, the youth commented that building a home together is all that really mattered to him. Moreover, there was confidence in knowing better how to embody both personalities in the interior than he himself would have been able to do. Henceforth, howbeit with this somewhat uncomfortably in mind, the would-be massive shopping trip cracked on.

Alongside pure affection, there was also a dominant sense of pride in deep earthly eyes that seeped through in attitude, proud to have made it to this milestone, this achievement that was solely a dream for both on lonely days wherein the concept of love was practically unknown aside from family bonds and friendships formed at school. A satisfied innocent smile could not be erased from roseate lips throughout the entire venture, broadening to a wide bubbly smile when testing couches by launching ourselves onto them or spinning around in desk chairs together, seated on the personified koala’s lap and holding on for dear life to the characteristic raven black leather jacket, in search of the perfect one for the planned small home office.

Withal, every sort of happiness comes at a cost, this being that the ecstatic joy has malformed into frustrating confusion now that cardboard boxes retrieved from the immense storehouse litter the bare oaken floor of the empty echoing studio and the time has come to put the furniture together with, at times questionable, manuals. Missing screws or seemingly misplaced pre-created holes form only two of the multitude of sources for agitation, Chris’s brightness gradually becoming darker as the time passes and solely the round coarse night-toned metal coffee table, a few wall shelves, the stone grey couch - this one in particular with a lot of cursing and fuming in resilience after almost ripping the papers with step-by-step instructions - and a single bookshelf awaiting its three neighbours have been established in three hours time.

The cap that was bought on the first trip abroad as a couple, Scotland as its destination, is thrown to the side with a low resigning sigh after reading the supposedly easy to understand guide to the second one of the collection of bookshelves, a bright alabaster cabinet with glass doors. ‘It doesn’t make sense. How is it possible that one door fits perfectly and the other doesn’t?’

‘Did you put the clasps parallel to the others?’  ‘Yes, I did. Look,’ by means of illustration, the inside of the display is shown, pointing at the metal hinges in the designated places which are, indeed, parallel to those opposite, ‘I placed them where you said.’

The position of those already in the correct place was discovered after giving the advice of perhaps reading the text on the paper the correct way instead of upside down and yet vocal directions still had to be given to reach the current part of the building process. Not to say Chris is not the most skilled person when it comes to IKEA furniture or any furniture for that matter, but the flashback of the battle with the first bookcase makes it so that a slight scepticism has come to colour attitude in the predicament caused by this, apparently, problematic one.

‘Let me give it a spin, maybe I’ll be able to insert it. You might break the glass if you try to ram it in like this.’ The former four attempts at placing the door where it should go according to the guide went dramatically wrong, every carefully made endeavour to take on the task instead cut off by assuring snarky remarks. Any gently given direction of slightly altering the angle of insertion was dismissed with a coldly sharp comment about perfectly being able to handle it, so that, too, did not help in regards to any sort of progress.

Howbeit very reluctant, a chance is given with pouted lips and mocha eyes glaring at the last piece of the puzzle. ‘Good luck. I swear, if you manage to- oh.’

As predicted, all that was needed to do was manipulating the insert angle of the door a tad, the discovery leading to an indignant huff accompanied by a check-up whether the seemingly impossible mission has truly been accomplished. Which it obviously is, judging by the golden locks hanging in self-deprecating shame and sarcastic inwardly directed speech. ‘Are you serious?’

A pat on the shoulder makes the street artist raise his head at a broad smug smile on a beloved face, finding satisfaction in being better in doing something which is generally associated with men. ‘I told you how to do it, didn’t I? If only you’d listened.’

‘Oh, come on, Y/N. I still managed to put the couch together on my own because you weren’t a lot of help with that.’ An accusing index finger points to the ashen fabric sofa set against the far east wall, above which has yet to be hung the collection of empty sleek lacquered black frames for displaying Chris’s drawings specially made for decorating the house.

‘I was looking for the missing screws!’ Palms rise into the air in dramatic defence, gaze unbelieving of the argument. ‘How was I supposed to know the rest was just a matter of inserting one part into the other?’

‘Sure, koala.’ The devious smile faded from one visage is replicated on the other, evidently not backing out of the witty battle until a triumph is had, hands firmly placed on the hips, thus pressing the fabric of the loose shadow-toned shirt covered in wood snippets and dust tightly over a well-trained chest. ‘But who also put together the coffee table?’

A denying shake of the head as raised digits lower again to be tucked into the pockets of the skinny jeans also affected by decorating the shared home, followed by an incredulous laugh at the attempted clever response proving superiority. ‘That was simply a matter of getting it out of the box, kangaroo boy.’

‘Oi, it also required some putting together.’ Pure uncensored defied belief seeps through in the voice of the street artist, unhappy with being unmasked by such an easy task that does not count in the overall grander picture.  

‘You only had to place the tabletop on its foundation, so that doesn’t count. Furthermore, who installed the shelves on the wall because someone could not handle the drill properly and almost drilled through the places for the attachments?’

Stark white teeth distractingly bite down on the bottom lip, Chris turning away to hide the shame of the almost accident whereby a woman’s touch formed the apparent saviour of a ruined interior before daringly locking gazes. ‘If the coffee table does not count as furnishing than that doesn’t as well. And it’s not my fault the wood is so thin, it’s easy to completely run it through if there’s barely any depth or thickness to it.’

‘No, it isn’t. You’re just clumsy, but you don’t want to admit it.’

An eyebrow is arrogantly cocked at the defiant street artist, who copies the attitude with the intention to counterattack with a sarcastic comment that shall continue the bickering until a clear victor appears. ‘Me? Clumsy? Who almost dropped the boxes with candle holders for the bedroom yesterday?’

Well, for what has to function as a bedroom since it is nothing more than a simple oaken bed frame with drawers and two matching night tables made of the same material, located in the space next to the little balcony looking out over the old harbour. Again, it was established with the necessary cursing and risk of a shredded manual, the help continuously searching the massive cardboard box for the needed parts sometimes wrapped in bubble wrap while trying to keep the kangaroo boy’s temper under control. As it would seem, the platinum blonde boyfriend is better at popping bubbles than reading and following the instructions given by IKEA.

‘That wasn’t because I’m clumsy, but because you scared the living daylights out of me by suddenly appearing and trying to wrestle me to the ground.’ As a means of giving extra strength to the point, a stern finger points from an offended face to the scene of the past accident, speaking with a higher tone now that sensitive nerves truly are on edge with triggering memories.

Yesterday, it had seemed like a genius prank to jump out of the bathroom while bringing in the newly acquired fragile candle holders that had the Aussie frantically search the massive lower floor of the home depot only to find the mysteriously disappeared girl again in the candle section, judging which holder would go with what candle and colour while also keeping the outlay of the planned interior in mind. Thus, the notion of caution while bringing in the unloaded boxes with frames and accessories that had temporarily formed a fort in the cool hallway of the apartment building was entirely nullified, even though the culprit put a special emphasis on this beforehand when it was him carrying the vases for the bouquets of fake flowers. A scattering of violet reflecting glass almost formed the consequence of the affectionately meant yet aggravating instead gesture, the youth barely able to save face by rapidly steadying a toppling stance and breakable decoration.

Household chores are up to the artist for the coming month as a punishment.

‘Alright, fair point. But still, you especially wanted the crystal ones while you know I can attack at any time.’ A foreboding playful stance is taken up, the bickering entirely forgotten as crossed arms unravel to spread wide while the back arches in the anticipation of pouncing on the targeted prey in front with a mischievous grin.

The step backwards does nothing to escape the fate already set in motion, the wiggle of dark eyebrows promising there is no escape from the love about to be shown. Regardless of the urge to attempt to find a way out, it is difficult to suppress the amusement as the predatory stance changes to resemble a kangaroo which results in a chuckled warning. ‘Chris, don’t.’

‘I’m gonna catch you~.’ A provocative hop forward with an adorable high-pitched giggle, bleached locks obscuring the sparkling mocha stare.

‘No, you won’t.’ Another step backwards on the bare oaken floor, answering the threat with a voice truly bordering on pure innocent laughter. ‘Catch me if you can.’

What ensues is a weirdly human kangaroo madly chasing his offender who has fully joined in the grinning, cutely though relentlessly continuing the chase after her until she is driven into the kitchen corner and picked up with ease by strong veiny arms in a twirling fashion.

When feet touch the ground again, they linger a few centimetres from the ones which pursued them a mere second ago, cheek contently resting on the onyx fabric displaying the effect of furnishing, listening to the steady heartbeat of the cheekily smiling beloved. ‘You’re an idiot, Chris Bang.’

‘Could say the same for you, koala.’ A kiss on the crown of the head results in a glance upward into warm adoring chocolate irises, which, in turn, leads to another gentle meeting but this time between mouths with a tenderness that erases some of the devilish attitudes in both individuals. The embrace tightens, ensuring the instincts always triggered in each other’s presence there is nothing but a safe haven, a home for two people to grow in.

Though wanting to remain in the moment for as long as possible, much remains to be done and has to be for the day might still be young yet demands action, knowing the cardboard mess is unbearable to live in. Moreover, the break from daily obligations has a deadline that would rather not be extended due to a delay in settling into the new studio together. Henceforth, breathless lips laboriously pull away as a big palm comes to cup the cheek while a desperate urgency begs for a deeper connection. ‘Let’s take a break and then crack on with the other bookshelves and the dining room. Would be nice to not eat dinner on the floor for once.’

For a second, Chris is clearly at a loss for words and composure, still leaning forward with puzzlement plastered across the lost expression. Nonetheless, it is soon replaced with an amiable relief at getting a repose from putting together incomprehensible installations, consenting to the plan with a pleased hum.

The happiness of the pause with peach ice teas and fruit salad does not linger long because next up are the other bookshelves so that the living room is at least somewhat done, needing only a few fake though lush green plants, Chan’s framed works on the bare walls and a few other homely accessories alongside filled shelves to finish it off officially.

It only takes five minutes for a ripped manual.

#Stray Kids #SKZ #Stray Kids x Reader #kpopwonderlandtag #Bangchan #Bang Chan #Chris Bang

[pixieungerstories]

Quarantine - 2

There was no sign the house had any other occupants for days.  I hadn’t been able to drag the mattress out of the room where he had put it.  It was heavy and I couldn’t compress it enough to get it through the door.

I went back to working from home.  The conference calls helped me feel sane.  After a while it was easy to pretend the whole thing was some fever dream.  I was pretending, though.  I still hadn’t tried to open the closet.  Grocery delivery was set on a rotation so that once a week they arrived at the gate.  My neighbours had theirs brought right up to the house.  Mine were always left at the gate of the picket fence that surrounded the front yard.

I used the hedge trimmers to shape the lilac bushes that the neighbours on each side had planted to obscure their view of my house.  I weeded and mowed the lawn wishing for grass seed before just giving up and calling it a meadow.  Some of the flowers were even pretty.  I chuckled with my friends about how much drywall I was going to need when this was over.  We laughed about how it was lucky I was alone instead of having a roommate watching me through the holes in the walls.

Well, they laughed.  I sort of more chuckled nervously.

I kept an eye on my laptop battery and there weren’t any unexplained power outages.  Everything seemed normal.

Until I was cleaning out the basement and found the wine room.  I don’t know wine, but there was a lot of it and the newest bottle that I could find was pre world war two.

I wasn’t expecting it to still be good.  It was.  It felt ridiculous drinking a hundred year old bottle of red wine with a frozen dinner. I did it anyway.

“Are you still here?” I demanded as I was getting ready for bed.

There was no answer.

I found the box that had my vibrator in it and fell asleep in a sweaty puddle.

I woke up a little hung over and found my vibe squeaky clean on the bathroom sink when I went to brush my teeth.  My stomach dropped.

“Were you watching me?” I hissed.  I don’t know what sort of reply I was expecting, but I didn’t get one.

Once again, I tried to move the mattress to another room.  Once again, I failed.  I spent the night wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor in the other bedroom, with my laptop plugged in and netflix running to keep me company.

I screamed and stood up when he said from the doorway, “I get lonely too.”

“Jesus Christ!”

He chuckled, “Not even close.”  There was a moment of silence as I strained my eyes to see something, anything, in the dark.  “I can’t leave either,” he whispered.  I stood there shaking in the light from my laptop screen. “Sleep in the bed.  I will not bother you.”

I didn’t move.  He had just sounded sad when he said it.  

“Why can’t I ever see you?”  I asked.

“I live in the shadows, you can only see me in darkness.”

I blinked at that.  “But you are always here.”

“Yes.”

“And I can’t see in the dark,” I pointed out.

“I know.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I changed the subject.  “What do you want from me?”

“When you first arrived, you slept in the garden.  If you had started by sleeping in the house, I would have run you off.  But you were fixing things, so I let you stay.  I got used to you being around.  Then you got sick and it would have been so easy to just let you die.  I would have gone back to being on my own.  I no longer want to be on my own but I hadn’t considered the weight of you being unable to leave.  I do not like the idea of you being scared of me and trapped here.”

“But I am,” I mumbled.

“Yes.  So take care of yourself.  Sleep in the bed.  Care for the house.  I will stay out of your way.”

I licked my lips.  I didn’t want to ask but I had to know.  “What were you doing with my vibrator?”

There was no answer.  I waited for what felt like an eternity before I continued.  “Look, it isn’t a good idea to share sex toys, so depending on where it’s been, I might need to throw it out.  I can’t exactly get a new one just now.  Please just tell me.”

It was the barest whisper, “I wanted to taste you.”

I froze feeling like a deer in the headlights, completely unsure how to respond to that.

“I have not touched you since you asked me not to,” he argued.  

Except for when I almost fell, I thought.  You caught me then.  And my laptop.  I wouldn’t have been able to get a new one of those either.  I wondered if soap and water would do it or if I was going to end up with some shadow monster disease.  How do you even ask that?

“Ok,” I mumbled.  I stood there in the dark and silence.  The house was silent.  I realized I hadn’t heard rattles or banging or hissing since I learned he was here.  “Nyctophobia,” I blurted out.

“I don’t understand,” he replied.

I shifted awkwardly.  “Can I call you Nick?”

The silence continued.  Then, “Why?”

“Nameless things are more scary.  It isn’t as bad having a roommate named Nick.”

He never did answer.  Eventually, I sat back down on the floor and wrapped the blanket more tightly around myself.  I wasn’t brave enough to walk through a pitch dark house, past a staircase, to get to the room where there was a monster in the closet.  

----

There was coffee waiting for me when I got up, and the smell of cinnamon buns baking in the oven.   The oven timer said there was 10 minutes left.  I peeked inside to find the tiniest pan of monkey bread baking.  I recognized the recipe and pulled out the cookbook it came from.  Sure enough, in Nick’s careful handwriting was notations about scaling the recipe down to one sixth of how it had been published.

He had used pencil.

“Is this a peace offering?” I asked.

I didn’t get a response, but he did the dishes while I had my bath that morning.

When my groceries were delivered, popcorn had been added to my order.

I didn’t see him.  Well, I mean, I never see him, but the only signs of him were things being done and left obviously done while I was bathing or getting dressed.  Aside from how nice it was to not do the dishes I appreciated the signs that he was not watching me.

It came as a surprise when I went to put the popcorn in the microwave and the power went out.  

“Nick?  What are you doing?”

“This isn’t me,” he hissed.

I was lifted and carried squirming through the dark before being pushed into a space and having the door locked behind me.  I panicked as I thought I might be in his closet before I realized I was in the wine cellar.  Flashes of Edgar Allen Poe stories ran through my mind.

I have no idea how long I was in there, in the dark with my heart pounding as I tried to get the door to open.  Eventually, it did.

“All better now,” he assured me, breathing down the back of my neck.

There were a lot of cop cars outside on the street.

“What happened?” I asked.  There wasn’t any answer.

A uniformed officer rang my bell, then politely stepped back from my door the requisite six feet.

“Did you hear or see anything unusual last night, Ma’am?” he asked after identifying himself.

Yeah, all the time, I thought.  There was still no way to say that and sound sane.  I went with a modified version of the truth.  “The power went out around 10pm and I ended up stuck in the basement since I couldn’t see the stairs.”

He frowned at me.  “Have you noticed anything missing?  Any signs of a break in?”

“No?  Should I have?”

He appeared to consider this, then stepped further back to look at the state of my house.  “There were break ins all down this street last night.  This place might not have been a target.”

“Is everyone OK?” I asked.

“It’s an ongoing investigation,” replied walking towards me again.  “I can not disclose anything further, ma’am.”

I swallowed, “That sounds like a no.”

“Do you mind if I come in and have a look around?”

I considered this, “Do you generally advise that women living alone let strange men into their houses?  If you are coming to search, I want my lawyer here as a witness.”

He was already peering in around me.  The house isn’t that big and the walls were all gone.  He could see the whole main floor whether he came in or not.

“Doing some renovations I see.”

No shit Sherlock.  “My building permit is posted in my window.  I haven’t been able to get trades people out in months but-”

“I'm sure everything is in order with that.  Good day.”   Then he left.  Standing on the porch I could hear him telling the other officers what a shit hole my house was.  He thought it should be condemned.

I mean, he was right, still you never like to hear that.  And it didn’t need to be condemned.  I had the structural engineer’s report to prove it.

I went to work while keeping an eye on the news sites.

It wasn’t break ins.  It was looters.  The house next to me and the four next to it, all the way to the corner, had been hit.  The owners had been found tied up at best and dead at worst with a variety of options in between.

It has escalated all the way down the street.

Then stopped before my house.

“Nick?  What did you do?”

He wasn’t talking to me yet.

----

I sat on my bed and waited for the sun to go down.  My laptop was in the kitchen.  My phone was next to me but set to do not disturb.   I waited, straining my ears for any noise.

“Are you there?”

Nothing was said but I was sure I could feel him watching me.

“Please tell me what happened.”

“No one comes into my house,” he snarled.

I swallowed and fought down my fear.  “I did.”

“You are different.  You are helping.”

I considered that.  He had walls before I got here, now he didn’t.

“Am I safe from you?”

“Yes.”  It would have been more comforting if he hadn’t growled it.

That was the point where I started to cry.  I had made it through everything life had thrown at me without turning into a weepy woman, but that did it.  I’m going to blame it on a night of panicking in the wine cellar combined with news reports detailing what had happened to my neighbours.

“Please don’t,” he whispered.

I sniffled.  “Fuck.  Why don’t I have kleenex?”

A roll of toilet paper was pressed into my hands.  I ripped off a length and blew my nose in a way that women in the movies never do, then I jumped as he stroked my cheek with a cool finger, catching my tears.  His hand was gone an instant later.

“What if they come back tonight?”

“They won’t,” he said firmly.  I don’t think he was talking about the ongoing police presence on the street. 

“What did you do?” I sniffled.

“I defended my home.  That includes you now.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that.  I wasn’t sure that I couldn’t catch glimpses of him as the lights on the street kept flashing.  Red, blue, huge black shadow.

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” I whispered.

The bed dipped but when I reached my arm out in that direction all I could find was a long fingered hand to hold mine.  “You won’t be.”

I felt him tug at the blankets underneath me and I slid over so he could turn them back.  Even in the dark I could find my sleep shirt under my pillow.  I stood up next to the bed, stripped and pulled it over my head.  Under the covers looking at the ceiling.  Red, blue, shadow, red, blue shadow.

“Are you .. human shaped?”

“I can be.”

I snorted, “What kind of answer is that?” 

“An honest one.”

I rolled on to my side so that my back was to him, or at least to where I thought he was.

“I can go.”

“Can you stay?”

The weight on the bed changed.  “Don’t try to look at me, you will only give yourself nightmares.”

“You said you’ve read Blue Beard?”

“Yes.”

“Have you read Cupid and Psyche?”

He just snickered.

“I’ll take that as a yes.  Does any of that apply here?”

“Are you going to try to burn me with an oil lamp?” he teased.

“Are you going to get me pregnant then cast me out into the wilds?”  I countered.

He hissed at that, “Never.”

“Never get me pregnant or -”

“I’m not human.  We can’t procreate.  I can’t make you sick.  You can’t make me sick.  We can drive each other insane and you will be able to escape someday.  I can not leave.”

“Why not?”

“You need to rest.  Don’t ask questions with scary answers.”

“How am I supposed to know they are scary?”

“Because you are asking a monster.  Now, go to sleep.”

That was the most ridiculous thing but I wasn’t up to arguing about it.  Not while there was still an active crime scene next door.

I fell asleep to the feeling of him stroking my back.

----

The only furniture in the bed room was the bed and a few boxes of random stuff I had moved in.  I woke to find one of them had been used as a table and was holding breakfast for me.  Or at least a travel mug of coffee and a plate of toast.  I sat in bed, drank my coffee, ate my toast and read the thirty seven emails from everyone I knew asking what the fuck happened next door.

I ended up posting a blanket statement on facebook that I was fine.  I was still in my house.  I had no idea what had happened other than what I had seen on the news.  Then I posted a picture of the three squad cars I could still see out my bedroom window.  

My boss emailed me to ask when he could expect the report I had been assigned, so that took up the rest of my day.  It was getting dark when I realized I hadn’t eaten all day.  Another freezer meal, some salad and I was raiding the wine cellar again, god damn it!

As I was pouring wine into a coffee mug, he asked me, “Are you drinking alone?”

I got up, took another mug out of the cupboard, poured a second drink and turned off the kitchen light.  “Nope.  I’m not alone.  You’re here.”

He didn’t answer, as I ate my dinner by the light of the street lights outside.  The porch light was outside the kitchen window, so I turned it on to wash the dishes then turned it off to go upstairs.  It would have been better if I hadn’t stubbed my toe on the bottom step.  I swore.  Nick picked me up and carried me up the stairs.

“I didn’t have that much to drink!” I protested.

“No, but you can’t see in the dark.”  He tucked me safely into bed.

“Did you change the sheets?”  I asked.  He didn’t answer.  “You did, didn’t you?”

My laptop opened and his body blocked the screen for a few moments.  Then Brooklyn 99 came on and it was set next to me.

“Why are you doing this?”

“We need a distraction.  Call Penny.”

“We need a distraction?  We?”

“Yes.”

I hesitated.  “Do you need me to move out and camp in the backyard for a few days?”

His reply was a nonverbal roar that rattled the windows and set off a car alarm outside.  

There was a commotion then the cops were knocking on my door.  I sighed and turned on the lights.  I decided to be proactive this time.  I flung open the door and demanded “What the hell are you doing out here?”

The cops on my porch blinked.  

“I’m trying to sleep!  Can you keep the noise down?  Please?  I know whatever you are doing is important but can you just do it a little quieter?”

“That wasn’t us!” the youngest protested.

“Then can you find out who it was and make them stop?”

To my delight, they left.

I closed the door, smiled to myself and bounced off a wall of darkness that caught me before I rebounded against the door.

“I do not want you sleeping outside!” he growled in my ear.

There were one set of arms around my shoulders and another holding my hips and back.  I tried to think of a ‘what big arms you have Mr Wolf’ quip but it died on my lips and the touch was gone in an instant.

“Nick?  Can you help me not trip on things on my way to the stairs?”

Hands on my hips, pushing me gently forward and steering me around boxes. Another hand guiding mine to the banister.  Then nothing.  I carefully inched my way upstairs.  I did that awkward thing at the top where you think there is still one more step but there isn’t so your leg falls through nothing and you stumble.  To my right was the bedroom, still lit by the flickering screen of my computer.

I climbed into bed and closed it.

Then I opened it, stared at the browser for a moment, then closed it again.

“What’s wrong?”

I considered this.  I really had no secrets from him anymore.  “I need … some ‘alone time’ but it’s weird if you are watching.”

“Would it be better if I was helping?” he teased.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.  “I don’t know what you are working with.  But I feel lonely.”

Gentle fingers took my hand and raised it.  The lips that kissed and the tongue that laved were not human.  I turned my hand to stroke his face but he leaned away.

That stung.  I let my hand fall to the bed.  “It isn’t fair that you get to touch me but I can’t touch you.”

He didn’t say anything to that.  A car drove past and the headlights lit the room for an instant.  Long enough for me to see four glittering eyes watching me, two forward facing and two further to the sides.  Not human, I reminded myself.  In the darkness, hand cupped my face, thick lips caught mine and as I kissed him a tentacle like tongue licked at my lips before darting briefly down my throat.

“I can do better than that toy,” he promised, “but you can not see me.”

I nodded.  Four hands stroking me over my clothes.  A mouth kissing and licking at my neck. I was expecting him to peel me out of my clothes, instead his touch was so feathery gentle.  Hands cupped my face as he nuzzled my hair.  I strained my eyes trying to see him, but I could catch only the faintest outline.  Any time I reached out for him he pulled away.  Finally, he got frustrated with that and pinned my hands over my head.

I panicked and pulled my hands away and just like that he was gone.

“Nick?”

I don’t know why I was expecting an answer.  I groaned and pressed both palms to my face covering my eyes.  I jumped when he caressed my calf, but I didn’t move my hands.

“What are you doing, little girl?”

“Damned if I know,” I admitted.  “It’s been … I don’t even know anymore… how long have I been stuck in this house?  Weeks?  Months?  None of this seems real anymore.  Sometimes I don’t know if I’m real anymore either.  I just need …  something.”

“Someone,” he whispered.

“Yeah.  Someone to make me feel like I’m real.  Just to make me feel.”

“Humans need other humans to be human,” he muttered. “You should have just called your friend.”

My eyes prickled again and tears splashed against my hands.  “How long have you been here?”

“There was an accident shortly after the house was built.  I was created out of that.”

That raised a lot of questions, but my immediate one was, “How long have you been here alone?”

“On and off since then.  Most people don’t last much more than a month or two.  Normally, construction crews are the advance party before they move in.  It’s easy enough to get rid of the new owners.  You were just too stupid to leave.”

I snorted, “Were you really trying to make me go?  Because living here was creepy but not anywhere close to the scariest place I’ve ever lived.”

“My heart wasn’t in it.  I need you to finish fixing the place first.  Sooner or later someone would have built one of those ridiculous houses on the lot.”  He started to massage my calf as he spoke.

“The house is more than a hundred years old.  That’s a long time to be alone,” I pointed out.

“Enough time to get good at it,” he countered.

I moved my hands then and sat up to look at him.  I thought I could see a pool of shifting darkness.  “What are you?  Are you a ghost?  Did someone die here and -”

“Many people have died here. I am not one of them.”

I thought about that for a moment.  “Am I?”

“What?”

“Am I some dead woman who is all alone here making excuses for why I can’t leave?”

He laughed at me then, not a jolly laugh, an odd howling laugh.  “How did you come up with that ridiculous idea?”

It stung a little, “It’s a popular plot point in a number of movies.  And I can’t help but notice you didn’t answer the question.”

He stopped laughing when he realized I was serious and said flatly, “You aren’t dead.”

#oh my god they were quarantined #exophilia #monster quarantine #nyctophobia #shadow monster