#but grown up and moved to an expensive apartment in the city

[ultralightpoe]

High Infidelity - Coriolanus Snow

Authors Note: Yup. I wrote for him. Hate me for it. (This was also the first time I wrote him so it’s not the best characterization, but hey. It’s been sitting in my drafts foreverrrrrr)

Word Count: 5642

Warnings: Prostitution. Lmao. And really bad writing so be prepared for that.

Apart of the Midnights Album Event

My MAIN Masterlist is here!

(Thank you for the gif @youremyvioleta )

Enjoy!

Lock broken, slur spoken

Wound open, game token

I didn't know you were keeping count

Rain soaking, blind hoping

You said I was freeloading

I didn't know you were keeping count

-

Your mother had always warned you away from him, warning you of the terrible terrible things that came from his family, she used to sit you at the table and plead with you to stay as far away from Coriolanus Snow as you could.

“Everything with that family ends with bloodshed.” She had warned you, telling you to stay away.

You hadn’t, and you never would….. well at least you never thought you would.

You had grown up with Coryo, known eachother since you were just children and had survived a war together. Had gone through starvation together. Back then you hadn’t understood why your mother was so afraid of him, this was the boy that had shared a can of beans with you when you had nothing. And now that the Capitol was back you were still as thick as thieves.

“I’m sorry.” You rush out, staring at your best friend right now, tears sliding your cheeks. “I don’t understand Coryo.”

It had been months since you last saw him, his hair was shorter and whiter now, and his face set into a grim glare. But it was the eyes that were different, they were cold and dark, just making eye contact made you shutter.

You had rushed to the train station to pick him up, an expensive flower in your hand and a wide smile. That had promptly been wiped away the second he got off the train and snapped at you.

The words fuzzed a bit, but it was something along the lines of “I’m warning you to stay away from my family, you freeloading wretch.”

“Do I really need to repeat myself?” The smile he gives you is anything but warm. “What? Now that I’m back you want to tag along all the time? Steal my family's fortune and pretend you’re not a starving leech?”

“Starving Leech? When have I ever taken anything from you?” You bite back, hands curling into fists.

“I can give you an entire list of everything you have taken from my family.” He laughs. “And I promise you that there will be no more favors.”

“You….. I hadn’t realized helping eachother from not starving was a favor. You ate from my table to need I remind you.” You snap, a heat crossing your skin, casting eyes towards a pair of on lookers.

You didn’t have time for this, you had a shift at the med wing.

You said as much to him, enjoying the way his eyes narrowed as he finally took in your medical garb. “We’ll talk later.” He scoffs, and you walk off after that, set on never talking to him again.

-

High infidelity

Put on your records and regret me

I bent the truth too far tonight

I was dancing around, dancing around it

High infidelity

Put on your headphones and burn my city

Your picket fence is sharp as knives

I was dancing around, dancing around it

-

It was nothing but sobs the night your mother passed away, cuddled on the floor of Coryos floor with his arms wrapped around you, trying to keep quiet just in case his grandmother woke up.

She hated tears, always thought them a sign of weakness.

“Shhh.” Coryo whispers, petting your hair back. “It will be okay.”

“What will I do?” You sob, feeling like your chest was caving in. “How will I survive?”

“We’ll find a way.” He whispers, using the pad of his thumb to rub the tears from your cheeks. “I’m sure Tigris can get you a job, and you can move in here if you need. Just take a moment-“

“I can’t. I can’t breathe.” You panic, hand snapping to his jacket as if he could keep you planted to the earth, your breathing ragged panting as your vision begins to blur.

“No. No.” He breathes, fingers snatching your jaw to make you look at him, digging into your skin. “Focus. Breathe. You’re stronger than this. Take. A. Breath.”

You listen, breathing in the same time he does, deep and open, breathing out when he does. Your nerves calm a bit, and you close your eyes as the tears keep falling. He pushes your head until it is laying on his chest. “Your mother just died. Don’t focus on the future, just let the pain settle. You’re safe here. I promise.”

And so you did, letting the sobs free as he held you all night.

-

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?

Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?

-

“Did….. did you see her?” Tigris asks, keeping close to the doorframe of his room, hugging her arms close to herself as she watches him work at his desk.

He feels himself tense, spine stiffening so much a wave of pain passed over him, doing his best to seem natural about it all. “She will not be coming around anymore if that is what you want to ask.”

He would make sure of it, he would make sure no one took from him or his family ever again. Not that bitch from 12, not Highbottom and not….. you. You whose face filled his brain with sunlight and warmth, you who made his chest melt and hands shake from nerves.

He loved you, always had.

But that couldn’t be anymore. He was set for a pristine life now, he could not let his weakness get in the way. He already risked it more than he should have.

“She missed you. A lot.” Tigris sighs, moving a little closer. “And she…. Well she helped us scrap together money for care packages and rent.”

“I’m sure there was something she could get from it. Don’t worry.” Even as he says it his gut clenches. He didn’t believe it for a second, but this needed to be done.

“She….. Coryo she-“ Tigris seems to stutter over the words, closing her eyes as if just thinking about it dragged her into a wave of pain. He tries not to laugh because what did she have to hurt about? Living the plush life here as he fought for them in 12, fought for them in the games. Risked his life to make sure that girl survived.

“She. What?”

“She….. well once she found out we were short on rent and she had nothing to offer she…. Slept with someone…… for us.”

“How would whoring herself out help us?” He already knew, his heart beating through his chest as his hands began to shake, clenching them into fists so it wouldn’t show. He was going to be sick.

You wouldn’t have. No.

“For money. She made us-“

“GET. OUT.” He sneers, standing quickly. “Get out right now.” He watches his cousin dash from the room with tears sliding down her face, his own kings constricting at the news.

You couldn’t have. You couldn’t have.

Regret laces through his stomach, your face flickering through his mind. Of course you would. You would do anything for him and his family.

-

Storm coming, good husband

Bad omen

Dragged my feet right down the aisle

At the house lonely, good money

I'd pay if you'd just know me

Seemed like the right thing at the time

-

It had been a fools dream long ago that you would marry for love, nothing but a dream of a child that didn’t know better, hadn't let the world destroy her yet.

Now, you knew better. Staring at your soon to be husband, Festus Creed, with a small smile playing at your lips. You were trying to make it seem like you actually loved him, like you actually cared what he was saying as cameras flashed at you both. The light of it blinded you a bit, and you tried not to flinch while he merely laughed and gripped your hand tighter.

He saved your ass and the Snow’s asses. Playing pretty little fucking wife is a small price to pay. You remind yourself when he kisses your cheek. Just pretend. Smile and pretend.

You had sold yourself to Festus in the months that Coryo…. Coriolanus was gone. When you were barely making ends meet and his cousin and grandmother weren’t making it. You had known that Tigris sometimes sold herself to people that wouldn’t really know her last name, but she hadn’t ever been able to get the primary houses due to her family's nobility.

You could.

So, you offered yourself to Creed, a classmate of Coriolanus’ and one that he had warned you to stay away from. “A viper wearing human skin.” How ironic how things turned around.

You tried not thinking about Snow at all, tried to get his face out of your mind, but every time you got close to winning against your memory, he somehow managed to pop up. Every. Single. Time.

It had been months since that initial argument the day he returned. You had been a fool who planned on confessing your love to him, planning on asking him to marry you. Then he called you a gluttonous leech, and Festus proposed a week later. It should be history.

And yet, right on cue, you spot a light blonde head of hair making his way through the crowd quickly as you and your fiancé stand quickly, the crowd of cameras dispersing at the engagement party resumes its flow.

You tried not to sneer about the sheer amount of money these people threw at everything. Just a couple months ago you had been starving, and now you can only watch as dozens of tables were set up with ludicrously decorated desserts that wouldn’t actually be eaten. “Never eat the food in front of them. Makes us look bad.” Festus has told you before your first party with all of them.

“Might I go to the restroom really quick?” You ask him, trying to move around with his arm tightly wrapped around you.

“Of course.” He smiles, giving your hip a tight squeeze before his eyebrows pinch together. “Let’s greet Snow first. I’m sure your old best friend would love to see you.”

Wish I could say the same. You bite back the remark on the tip of your tongue with a pleasant smile, allowing Festus to lead you to where your old friend was finally cutting through people. He had a grim look on his face, he always did these days, and if you didn’t know better you would assume he was upset.

“Snow.” Festus smiles, “glad you can make it. I know game keeping has been keeping your attention these days.”

Something in your stomach clenches at the words, no matter how many times people spoke of it you still could not believe that he was helping with the games.

You feel his stare in the side of your head, but you keep your eyes firmly on Festus, playing with his hair a bit as you play the role of lovestruck girl. Festus glows at this, eyes lighting up as he looks at you.

Whether or not he knows you’re using him as an excuse you can’t possibly care, he likes that you’re rubbing it in Snows face all the same.

“How could I miss this…. Joyous occasion?” Every word is clipped, and you try not to roll your eyes. “It’s wonderful that you’re family is able to take the young medic in.”

You know the underlying meaning beneath the words, snapping to glare at him. A smirk slides onto his lips as his eyes spark with excitement, it takes you a minute bro realize you had just fallen into a trap he laid out. To get you to look at him.

“Well I’m no freeloader.” You bite out. “I’ll obviously keep working in the hospital.”

Festus barks out a laugh at this, hand tightening on your hip as his other moves to hold his stomach, pure humor on his face. “Oh darling. How outrageously funny that was.”

“How was that funny?” You ask, blanching a bit.

“You’re not going to work! How would that make my family look?” Festus laughs, leaning to kiss your lips. You try to kiss back, something tightening in your throat as a sharp sting begins to form in your eyes. Do not cry. Do not cry.

“I’m going to go grab a drink. Keep our friend entertained will you?” Festus smiles, squeezing your hip once more before moving to walk away, leaving you with Coriolanus.

You risk one look to him, already seeing that he was staring right at you, and take a small sip from the Champagne in the flute as you think about how to get away. You decide on “I do hope you enjoy the party. I’m going to make my way to the ladies room.”

And for a second you think you’re brilliant, turning on your heel to walk away quickly but he is fast, taking three easy steps and cutting into your path.

“I was hoping we could talk.”

“We just did.”

“Did we?”

“What do you call that whole conversation with my fiancé if not talking?” You put on an airy smile, and fear freezes at you at the sheer anger in his gaze. Panic settles in, and you stand straighter, choosing to play offense. “Besides. You’re the one that warned me to stay away. What was it you said? ‘Or suffer the consequences’, wasn't it?”

His eyes shutter but otherwise he does a good job of playing calm, using one hand to pull imaginary lint off his jacket. “I believe so. But maybe I’ve decided I was wrong.”

“You weren’t wrong.” You snipe. “I was a freeloading wretch and now I’m not. Problem handled. We can go our separate ways and never speak again-“

“Festus was the one that paid you, wasn’t he?” His voice is low, but his eyes are screaming at you as he leans closer. “To help pay for rent. It was Festus.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” You did. And he knew it, which was answer enough.

“I’m sorry you-“but you’re gone, dashing to find the bathroom.

-

You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love

The slowest way is never loving them enough

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?

Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

-

The door to the Snow Mansion caught a little, letting some of the winter air in with you, your teeth chattering as you did your best to shut it. Managing to push all your body weight into the door to finally get it closed before you puffed hot air into your palms, the sack you carried heavy in your hand as you hear someone call your name.

Then he’s there, surrounding you in what little warmth he had, arms wrapped around you as you try to ease the shivers.

“Come in. We are burning some of mothers old romance novels for warmth.” He smiles, grabbing your hand and leading you to the fireplace where there were indeed pages from novels burning quickly.

“I brought this-“ you smile, holding up the bag of the goodies you managed to smuggle out of work. “It was someone’s anniversary and they had tables of food. I grabbed what I could before they threw it all out.”

A smile breaks out across his face as his cousin and grandmother both gasp and move to surround you. Before you know it you are all huddled close to the fire, eating quickly to try and ease the hunger, Coryo sitting close to you.

Once all the food is gone his grandmother retires to bed and Tigris goes to heat up water, leaving you with Coryo by the dying fire.

“I…. I always imagined small family dinners. Always wanted it for my own family, eating close together rather than a large table.” You admit, pulling your legs close to yourself. “Never did I imagine this though.”

“One day I’m going to get us out of this.” He mumbles, one hand reaching to hold onto one of your own. “And we will have that.”

There was that feeling of happiness rising in your chest as you looked at his determined face, leaning to kiss the corner of his lips softly. “I look forward to it.” And you believed he could make it happen, you truly did.

-

High infidelity

Put on your records and regret me

I bent the truth too far tonight

I was dancing around, dancing around it

-

You could learn to love him, you were sure of it. Somehow someway you would fall in love with my Festus, provide him a child that would inherit his families vast fortune and you would see to it that your kid never had to worry about starving.

You would rake yourself over coals before letting your child do any of what you had to do.

Like right now, fake moans filtering from your lips as Festus had his way with you on a random desk in a study room you did not recognize. Not that it was surprising, this family liked their secrets.

Once he was done he smiled at you, kissing you quickly as he fixed his pants and tucked in his shirt. “Fix yourself up. We have an engagement party to get back to.”

And with that he was gone from the room, leaving you to fix the skirt and sink to the floor, using the side of the large oak desk to lean on.

The sound of the door opening barely draws your attention, sighing out as you stare at the bookshelf, trying to piece your nerves back together as you always did after Festus.

“Are you alright?” The tone was a mix between your old friends comforting voice and the new Snows voice, and you tried not to roll your eyes.

“I’m fine.” You snap, your spine stiff. “Go back to the party.”

“I should be saying that to you.” He mumbles, moving closer and sliding to sit next to you. “It is your party after all.”

“Yeah? Is it?” You mumble, scooting over slightly to get away from him. He merely follows you, sliding right next to you once more.

Before you can yell at him he is holding out a cloth napkin, filled with those crème cookies that filled the tables out there. Macarons, Festus had called them. But you hadn’t had one. Rich people liked to starve.

“Come on. We both know you want one.” He smiles.

“Does it have poison?” You snipe, remembering the reason he had been sent away in the first place. He had given that Lucy girl an advantage in the games. Poison.

“No, not for you.” He smiles, like you hadn’t just completely tried to chase him off. Then he grabs one and shoves the entire thing in his mouth, making a small laugh slip from you before you bite it down, rolling your eyes. “Do you remember my 13th birthday?”

“No.” Yes.

He had stolen sandwiches from his school lunch and you had somehow managed to steal chocolate chip cookies from some party you had been working at. You ate together in the park, huddled by a tree so no one would see you, whispering all the things you wanted to see in the world.

“It was by far one of the best birthdays I had ever had.”

“One of?”

“Well my favorite birthday was the one before the war. I got so many gifts my parents made me a playroom.” He smiles.

You try not to let the words sting, what were measly cookies to a playroom. That was the life he belonged in. Luxury.

“You won’t be working then?” He asks after a moment of silence. “I always thought you liked being a medic.”

“I haven’t been an actual medic for long.” You sneer, you had only earned the honor while he was gone. Before that you simply volunteered every morning before your actual job, taking lessons whenever you could scrounge up money.

“A short lived career then.”

“What do you want me to say? My husband won’t allow me to work then I won’t work. It’s simple.”

“I would need my wife to work.” He shrugs.

“Why? You wouldn’t want a freeloader?”

“No. I would be running for president of Panem. And I believe that a medic for a wife would help my votes.” He states bluntly, eyes catching yours as your own widen.

“I’m sorry?” But he doesn’t respond, instead he holds out that damned napkin of cookies again. And you snatch one quickly, turning away the slightest bit to eat it.

“You’ll think about it?” He asks, eyes never leaving you.

“Think about it? There is nothing to think about.” You laugh, wiping sugar from the corner of your mouth before using the desk to help you stand and stepping over him.

Before you could fully escape his hands snatch your calf, pulling you down until you unceremoniously fall into his lap. “I told you to stay away from Festus. His family is not-….. he won’t give you what you want.”

“He’s paying my rent Snow. I’m just fine.”

“What happened to family dinners? Or the 6 kids running around.”

“I can have that with him.”

“Can you?” He lets you go then, knowing his words hit the mark when your face falls.

You leave the study, trying to pretend things are fine for the rest of the day, but his words cling to you like a skin of a snake.

-

High infidelity

Put on your headphones and burn my city

Your picket fence is sharp as knives

I was dancing around, dancing around it

-

You would have loved the atmosphere of District 12’s underground space, the dancing and music, laughter falling through your ears and the best of their dancing jolting down your spine with every stomp and clap.

Though he never understood your fascination with the districts back then, during the games he was beginning to understand slowly, and seeing this he could.

“Let’s go get a drink.” Sejanus laughs, pushing him to the bar as he imagines you twirling through, stomping and clapping at the right times.

It’s that night, drunk and a bit out of it that he lets the words he had been holding back for years slip. Sejanus had been grousing on and on about how he knew Snow was a good guy by the fact that his closest companion had been a young student healer rather than a Capitol clone and Snow tried not to bristle as how easy Sejanus laughed off your history.

You had worked for everything, and yet the man in front of him made it seem like you had chosen the healer life out of pity, rather than your hardwork and dedication.

Then the words slipped, “She’s a rare one and that’s why I love her.”

His friends eyes widen, and so does snow, both breathing in for a second before a wave of laughter fills them as Lucy’s voice fills the room.

-

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?

Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?

You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love

The slowest way is never loving them enough

-

It had taken you 10 minutes to sneak out of the Creed mansion, and another 15 to walk to Snow mansion where he had asked to meet you.

He being Coriolanus, through a telegram sent directly to you earlier in the day.

The door sticks a little, just like it used to, but the rest of the place had been professionally cleaned and you kept to the front rug in the entrance so as to not drag mud in.

“What are you doing?” He asks, coming around the corner to look at you in the entrance. “I’m in here, let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait to see your panic at the clean floors, so you rush to take off your shoes before tiptoeing to the main sitting room he was in.

“You said it was urgent.” You mumble, looking around at all the papers strewn about. Some designs of outfits and dresses, some of creatures and set ups. “What is all this?”

“This, my dear, is the 11th annual hunger games.” He smiles, and you try not to shudder at how easy he says dear.

“Oh I see, you’ll be making the tributes wear extravagant gowns in the arena then?” You hold up a sketch of what looks to be an evening gown designed for district 3.

“Tigris will be styling and dressing them before the games now.” He explains, moving closer to you. “For if they wish to be performers then we shall let them. Give them all a fighting chance.”

“Like Lucy?”

He doesn’t answer, instead moving to pick up another sketch. “And now, once they are in the arena they will all wear the same uniform.”

“They won’t die in their own clothes?”

“They’ll die at the Capitol wills it.” He sneers, taking a second to regain his composure. “But this isn’t why I have brought you here today.”

“Okay….” He grabs your hand, pulling you to the desk and showing you plans and sketches. “I need your medical advice.”

“For?”

“For a poisonous sea creature.” You rear back at that, but he is quick to snatch your hand. “I just need to know how to prolong the death.”

“I’m not helping-“

“Please. I need you.” He admits, his hand still on you. “I always need you.”

“Coryo-“ it’s the first time you’ve called him that in forever, and he can’t help but rush to you, pressing his lips to yours quickly.

You kiss back, although your common sense is screaming at you to stop. And soon enough the kiss is deepening, and he’s shoving all the documents off the table to place you upon it, making quick work of stripping you down while trying to keep his lips to you at all times.

And you were ashamed to admit you found pleasure for the first time that night, allowing him to pull that pleasure from you over and over and over.

-

High infidelity

Put on your records and regret meeting me

I bent the truth too far tonight

I was dancing around, dancing around it

-

“He’s a mad man….” Festus mumbles, hand clenched on your knee. “A mad genius but a madman.”

He was right of course, you could do nothing but blink as the games unfolded before you, surrounded by his peers and coworkers as they all cheered and booed at the tributes.

You couldn’t pay attention, the gore beginning to get to you as well as the fact that Coryo kept glaring over at you and Festus from his podium in the center, eyes narrowing as a sneer coated his mouth.

You hated these moments, when you were anxious about the affair and when Festus was in the same room with the two of you. Don’t do anything stupid, you silently plead.

But when has Coryo ever played stupid? No. Everything he did was smart, three moves ahead.

“How about a wager?” He smiles to his friends, and you bite your lip. That scheming look not good.

“Yeah?” Festus smiles. “My moneys on district 2. Girl.”

Vivi, was her name. She had 2 sisters at home and was playing viciously. She would not win though, she had been bitten by a snake with slow killing venom, you would know since you helped Coryo make it.

“No. Money is far too boring.” Coryo smiles, ever the Capitol player. “How about we wager…… the healer.”

Festus freezes, hand tightening on your thigh in a searing grip that you know has Coryo seething under his calm exterior, those blue eyes lighting with a challenge. He hated when Festus was rough, which was more often than not.

Coryo preferred to be…. Rough in the sheets and gentle every other moment.

“You want my fiancé? Don’t you have whores for that?” Festus laughs, but there is no humor behind it.

“I don’t want a whore. I want a wife.” Coryo smiles, holding out his hand. “District 4, Mags.”

People begin whispering and smiling at the challenge, and you realize why Coryo had been talking too loud then, because Festus would look weak to back away now.

Festus risks a look to you, narrowing on your shocked look before taking Coryos hand. When the blonde walks away your fiancé leans in, “we will be discussing this later.”

After he won, if he won. He would make your life hell.

-

High infidelity

Put on your headphones and burn my city

Your picket fence is sharp as knives

I was dancing around, dancing around it

-

“Your mood swings make my head spin,” you admit, laying on the mattress lazily as Coryo sits leaning on the headboard, tracing his finger across your exposed back. “One moment you’re rutting into me like you hate me, the next your murmuring love sonnets.”

“Do the Creeds actually have money?” He murmurs, fingers dancing across your ribs. “Or are they pretending just as I had been for awhile?”

“They have money, loads and loads of it. So much that they burnt some of it for fun the other day to see how long it took to burn.” You mumble, keeping your eyes closed.

“Then why do you still look starving?” He asks, moving closer to curl around you.

“Because they only eat one meal a day, and it’s more of….. well they don’t like gluttonous people.”

“Surviving is gluttonous?”

“The rich have never made sense.” You admonish. “They starve themselves to prove they can, no sugar or dairy. No this or that. They don’t know hunger like we did.”

“I thought you were marrying him to stop that hunger.” He mutters, a bit of anger in it.

“I also have a roof over my head and warmth. There is more to it.” You sigh, not wanting this to be another argument as it was every week. “There’s nothing we can do Coryo. I get married after the games.”

“They talk about you like you’re a pet.”

“To them I am.”

-

Oh, there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love

And it's never enough, it's never enough

-

“So this is what he does now?” Festus sneers, whipping his tie off as he storms into his room, dragging you in with him.

The games would last another night it seemed, and Snow sent everyone out as he was getting ready for the big finish.

“He is making it all one big game. Placing wagers and gambling. It’s bullshit!” You try not to roll your eyes at his outburst since he had been all about it before Coryo called him out.

But apparently you still somehow rolled your eyes and his face falls into pure rage as he begins charging for you. Fear coats your system as his hand latches around your neck, cutting off oxygen.

Before it could get worse there is a knock on the door.

“YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS!” His little sister calls, turning on his screen to reveal the games, where many of the players are fighting a very large creature in the body of water.

“What is that?” Festus gasps.

“A sea monster.” You breathe out, watching with a small amount of excitement mixed with disgust as Mags plunges her spear into its eye.

-

Lock broken, slur spoken

Wound open, game token

I didn't know you were keeping count

Rain soaking, blind hoping

You said I was freeloading

I didn't know you were keeping count

But oh, you were keeping count

-

You married him on April 29th, a year later he ran for president and to no one's surprise he won.

You became First Lady of panem. And would of course bear tons of children.

He kept his promise, eating close together every night, making sure all his kids were well fed and never knew the hunger you both did. And when your youngest was blasted in the tabloids for her ‘pudginess’ Coryo made sure to send the writer and his family to District 7 and the very next year the oldest daughter of the family was chosen in the reaping.

You lived in constant disgust and amazement, the battle never ending.

You helped him come up with ideas for creatures and implemented healing and medicine into the games to at least give some of those kids a fighting chance.

“Remember when I warned you to stay away?” He asks one night, watching you from his spot on the bed as you get air at the window.

“Quite vividly.” You laugh, breathing in the night scent in his shirt as he lay naked save for a sheet. “Said I was a freeloader.”

“I was trying to push you away.”

“Gathered that.” You nod, watching him extend a hand before shuffling across the floor and climbing across the bed until you reach his hands where he pulled you in for a warm kiss.

“You are a freeloader.” He teases, his lips still against yours. “You owe me so much.”

“Oh do I?” You laugh.

“Yeah! You owe me a can of beans, never got paid back for that.” He smiles and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’ll go get the dirtiest can of beans, expired, and it will be just like old times.”

Before he can say anything else you are pushing to kiss him again, falling into his warmth with a hum and letting him drag you under the sheet.

(Yeah. It stayed in the draft because I never quite liked how the story worked….. something always seemed off. I rewrote this 10 times back then, but since I am releasing my old drafts this baby is out now. )

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus fanfiction #Coriolanus angst #Coriolanus fluff #snow smit #snow smut #snow angst #snow imagine #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #Coriolanus snow smut #Coriolanus snow angst #Coriolanus snow fluff #Coriolanus snow imagine

[alwaysforevermaybenever]

YANDERE FARMER BOY: INTRODUCTION

× cw: general yandere stuff; getting lost; large families; implied scary relative; stalking; manipulation; murder; cannibalism

× note: kenji my beloved

⌗ A country bumpkin who just moved to the big city with his father, mother, four sisters, three brothers, grandparents, other grandparents, uncle, aunt, six cousins, dog, cats and cow. His family isn’t big at all, it’s normal sized! Your family is just pretty small, you know?

⌗ He was lost, wandering in the busy streets when you found him. He looked so pitiful and innocent: who in their right mind wouldn’t stop to help him? In the end, you directed him back to the apartment block he lived in with his family. (They brought up the entire floor.)

⌗ His family was so thankful they gave you their home grown watermelons - they’re super delish, and completely natural, unlike those supermarket fruits with nasty preservatives. 

⌗ From then on, you keep seeing this farmer boy everywhere! The park, the mall, the shopping centre, even in your neighbourhood! He must have a terrible sense of direction, huh? Either that, or he’s stalking you. 

⌗ But that can’t be it! Who’d think that? He’s a sweet summer child, with not a single mean bone in his body. Sure, he may be a little naïve, but he’s an honest and compassionate person. He treats everyone he meets with kindness and respect, and gains a lot of friends as a result. In fact, he’s already quite popular with the local community!

⌗ You think that after four months he’s pretty used to the city, but he still insists on you visiting him at his apartment - his siblings miss you! (So does he.) Everywhere you go, he’s right behind. You’re going to buy some groceries? What a coincidence: he’s been sent on some errands as well! Visiting the post office? He’s free right now, so he’ll accompany you!

⌗ If you ever try to excuse yourself from his clutches, he’ll attempt to guilt trip you into staying. His grandparents have been waiting to see you for a week already! His grandma even made your favourite snacks - won’t you visit? If that doesn’t work, he’ll resort to sticking to you like glue. It’s okay if you don’t know he’s there. He’s just protecting you, okay?

⌗ He loves to spend time with you, because you’re the person who noticed him and helped him! Everyone else ignored him because he looked poor, but you didn’t care about any of that! You’re such a blessing! He’ll be sure to treasure you forever and ever.

“Hehe, thanks so much, [Name]! You’re always so nice to me! I’ll be sure to repay you in every way I can.”

⌗ He may be from the country, but he’s no fool. He comes off as naïve, but that’s because he believes that he should only retaliate when the other person hits first. That way, it’s self defence!

⌗ Humans are scum. Of course, the only exception is his family and you, whom he loves with all his heart! He'll be overjoyed if you’d become part of his precious family too!

⌗ If anyone bothers you or even looks at you wrong, he’s already onto them. He may not be able to really read the room, but he still knows when someone holds hostile feelings or thoughts. After all, he knows plenty about hostility. The villagers were full of that hateful feeling when they drove out his family. That’s why they came to the city, y’know? But it’s not all bad; he met you!

⌗ Humans are like cows. They’re fat, and they make a lot of noise. They’re also quite dumb. Whenever a cow misbehaved in his old village, he would just give them a hearty slap. If that didn’t work, he’d knock them out. And if the cow continually made trouble, it became dinner’s beef. There are lots of similarities between cows and humans, actually!

⌗ Don’t worry if the beef patty tastes a little tough or gamey. Him and his mother assure you that it was just a really active cow. It mooed a lot, and ran around everywhere too! It was too bad the cow was getting too big, and too expensive to feed… Indeed, what a shame. 

⌗ His family can’t wait for you to move in with them! You practically sleep over with him everyday, why don’t you just stay there permanently? He’s a very (abnormally) strong boy, he can help you move all your things into an empty apartment! They have an empty unit anyway: it’s perfect for you to live in with him! 

⌗ His younger siblings are absolutely in love with you - each and everyone of his siblings claim that they’ll marry you when they grow up, but he’s quick to scoop you up in his arms and proclaim himself as your future husband! Wouldn’t that be a dream come through? Oh no, now the cousins are here too! They’re all clamouring for your hand in marriage! In the commotion, he whisks you away to kiss you feverishly (he’s jealous).

⌗ His parents live in the first unit with his youngest brother, and his brothers and sisters live in their respective apartment units. His uncle and auntie have their own apartment, as do his cousins and their two units. His grandparents have a unit, and his other grandparents have one too! With you and your lovely farmer boy sharing a unit, that makes nine units in total!

⌗ But wait, doesn’t this apartment complex have ten units per floor? As long as you don’t inquisitively ask about unit ten at the end of the hall, or the rotting stench that seems to waft from it, everything will be fine and dandy! You don’t need to know about the family’s extra beef stash.

“You make me super happy, [Name], and I’d love to spend the rest of our lives together. You’re always helping me, so I’ll make sure to repay that a thousand times over. Imma make you so happy, you’ll never wanna leave me!”

#yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #my oc #yandere oc #yandere boy #yandere male #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #farmer boy #babey boi #<3 #tw yandere #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere farmer

[aphroditeslover11]

Hi! I hope that you're having a great day/night! Could I request Lenny Miller with a younger reader?

Love Of His Life

This came so naturally, I’m not sure if it’s what you were hoping for but it just flowed out of my hands!

Warnings: a little smut, age gap, not proofread

Lenny had met you when you were spending a year in Paris, having taken a French degree that required you to spend a year abroad as a part of your study. It took some convincing for you to go out on a date with the older man, but he was persistent and eventually won you over. After he had taken you to dinner at Le Meurice, picking up the tab himself, he had walked you home and sent flowers to your tiny chamber de bonne the next day along with a note thanking you for your company. The fact that he was old didn’t mean he was dull or sleazy as you had feared, it meant that he was a hopeless romantic who knew how to treat a woman properly. The next time you met he had taken you for a picnic in the Jardin Du Luxembourg, complete with amazing French cheeses and a bottle of expensive champagne. It was fair to say that pretty soon you were hooked. Everyone always said that you were mature for your age anyway, so the concept of the age gap quickly became irrelevant to you.

A year later and you had finished your degree. When it got towards the end of your time studying in France Lenny had taken the risk of proposing you after taking you back to Le Meurice like he had on your first date. You hadn’t thought before saying yes, he put in for a transfer to be near you whilst you finished your degree and life continued in your strange state bliss.

You tied the knot quite quickly after that, getting married in a small service. His parents had both passed and he was an only child. Neither had much in the way of family, but you had agreed to a wedding in the church where he had grown up in Hawaï, though he wouldn’t admit it you knew that it made him feel close to his parents. You had the perfect white dress and he was in uniform, a hang over from the days when he had been climbing the ranks of Navy SEALs before he had been recruited into the CIA. As there were so few people you didn’t bother having a proper reception, he opted to take you to the beach where he had spent his time as a child, eating cheap burgers as your wedding breakfast and replacing the lights of a dance floor with the soft glow of the stars above you.

After this you moved to New York, he was promoted and took over a senior intelligence post, stationed in the city. He was in and out of the UN meeting with his counterparts, meeting all kinds of people. You knew he worked so hard because he wanted to prove he was worthy of you, his young and beautiful wife. You were remarkably proud of him, even if he found it hard to believe it. He was smart and had invested some of what his parents had left him into the stock market back when he was in the navy and used it to buy a beautiful apartment on the Upper East Side. It had a beautiful kitchen diner where you would attempt to cook together, often ending up in resorting to ordering takeout after Lenny decided that it would be a good idea to modify your recipes. There was something beautifully domestic about this life, it was still unpredictable but safe. Lenny refused to tell you much about his past because he didn’t want you to view him differently, but he gave up the guns and the action so he could live a safe life with you, finally letting himself rest.

After having seen so many horrible things he would want to protect you from the harshest realities of the world. You were young and innocent and so perfect for him, he didn’t want to taint that. He would never let an argument go unresolved before you went to bed. On the rare occasion that you had a proper row he would usually cave first and give you your way. He would usually be so in control of himself, but when he did shout it was harsh and loud, it always terrified you and as soon as he saw the look on your face he would cave. He could never stand the thought of you being afraid of him.

Arguments would often end in the bedroom, he would be the gentlest lover after a fight, peppering kisses along your collarbones before slowly moving down your body. He would be attentive, bringing you over the edge as many times as he could with his hands and his tongue until he had finally made it up to you. Only then would he seek any pleasure for himself, sheathing himself within you and moving so gently it would be as if you were made of porcelain. He’d be terrified of hurting you after seeing you so vulnerable earlier.

There could be another side of him in bed though. A raw and passionate one that came out after a difficult day at work. You learnt how to bring it out yourself over time, how to tease him with subtle touches at the work galas that he took you to and how he could never control himself when he saw you in just your lingerie and a pair of Louboutins. On those nights he would go for rounds at a time. Voracious, like a starving man at a banquet. He delighted in having you spread out below him, completely vulnerable to him and at his mercy. You always looked so small from that angle, he could do anything he wanted to you, and moreover he knew that you would let him and enjoy it. No matter how hard he took you though, he always ended with his head buried in the crook of your neck, whispering passionate prose into your ear and telling you how precious you were to him, how he would never let any harm come to you.

He managed to temper his protective tendencies well. Although both of you knew that it wasn’t a necessity, you found a job working in a little bookshop a few days a week, something to occupy your time. He was always anxious that something from his past would come back to haunt him, to haunt you, but he did his best to keep his worries separate from your life together. On account of your age difference, he was forced to confront the fact that there were things that you would want to do that he had left in the past, many years ago. You had a tight circle of friends that you would go with for nights out - clubbing, dancing and drinking in dives that he would never go into. He would never do anything to stop you, he would want you to live a life as full as you would have without him. Still, he couldn’t help it if he had to stay up until 3:00 am to make sure that you got home safe.

You had a beautiful life together in New York, it was something that you had built together, brick by brick. Every day he found himself falling deeper in love with you. He often said that he would probably have ended up dead in an abandoned corner of some far off land if he hadn’t had you to force him out of his ways. He pushed so hard for so long yet in you, your fragility and youth, he had finally made something to make him slow down. He finally understood the meaning of the phrase - you were the love of his life

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x reader #lenny miller x reader #lenny miller #anna

[heesdreamer]

omg can u do a story thats like summer fling comes to ur school and interrupts what u had going on with ur current situationship something like that i saw a smau like this and a long fic with ur writing will really just be *chefs kiss*

GIVE UP ON ME

PAIRING ➩ heeseung x reader

SUMMARY ➩ you’re moved back to your hometown and finally moving on from your toxic 4 year long relationship with your highschool sweetheart heeseung when you get the email that the 5 year reunion is approaching

WC ➩ 8k

WARNINGS ➩ mentions of sex and death, extremely toxic relationship between yn and hee, not cheating but sorta shady, just a ton of angst

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ written at 5 am not proofread yadada same stuff as always! slightly strayed from what the request suggest but i like it so hope you do too

It wasn’t like you had necessarily planned to stay in your hometown post your eventual graduation.

In fact, like almost everybody else your age that you’d spoken to about it, you couldn’t wait to be old enough to get out of where you’d grown up. To leave behind the familiar neighborhoods and the memories wrapped around every tree and building, you’d be in a new place as a new adult who could conquer the world.

You did eventually leave, following the crowd of students a few states over to the nearest large city and it wasn’t that you particularly didn’t like it, it wasn’t all too bad.

But it only took two years of constant bustling city life, your office job that stretched you past your limit and didn’t pay you nearly enough, and the overly expensive fees and bills for your apartment that was basically a walk in closest, before you were calling it quits and moving back to what was familiar.

Your parents had been delighted that you’d returned, living with them for about a year before you turned 24 and your ego couldn’t handle it. You longed for that feeling of freedom and maturity you’d found by having your own apartment and soon enough you were finding a place not too far from where you’d grown up.

As it turns out, you weren’t the only person who had either stayed or moved back home either. Knowing at least two dozen friends or classmates who were now adults and working throughout your city.

This comforted you for a number of reasons. It was nice to see their faces and have people you were familiar with but you also couldn’t help feeling disappointed in your self when you made the decision to come home, slightly embarrassed you couldn’t handle the demanding life of the big city like you’d wanted to. So seeing others in a similar boat helped you understand you weren’t apart of the minority here.

Currently you were sat with one of these old classmates inside a half flower shop half cafe, watching him race around as he tried to fulfill online orders.

“Technology is going to be the downfall of small business.” Sunghoon was complaining for about the sixth time since you’d gotten there, shaking his head and groaning when his long blond hair fell in his face again.

“Soon you’re going to need a hairnet if you keep that up.” You were commenting from your table, back leaned against the wall as you played with your empty coffee cup.

Sunghoon and you hadn’t been friends in high school, almost the opposite actually. You frequently had relationship drama with one of his best friends and he was a jock on the football team who was far too concerned with girls he could actually hook up with to ever acknowledge you as a human being.

It was a pleasant, although confusing, surprise when you’d stumbled upon a new adorable little shop while going to the grocery store and walked in to see Park Sunghoon himself, in a little pink apron and he greeted customers enthusiastically.

His face had dropped when he’d saw you, faltering slightly like he was embarrassed before you smiled and casually asked him what the best drink on the menu is.

Thus a friendship finally bloomed between the two of you and you spent almost every break sat in this exact place, even coming on your off days to help him maintain orders and the plants as he started to gain more and more traction.

“I could get a haircut if Jay could make some time for me.” He was scoffing and shaking his long hair again.

Almost on cue, the bell above the door was ringing and you glanced over to see Park Jay entering casually, looking over towards Sunghoon with a raised eyebrow when he just barely caught a whisper of the end of his sentence.

“Are you complaining about me being busy again?” Jay was sighing and approaching the counter after giving you a small wave in greeting. He didn’t need to tell Sunghoon his order, just passing him his card with the knowledge that he already knew.

Jay was here almost as frequently as you, maybe more so considering his salon was only two doors down in the small strip mall. He was also somebody you had known from high school although you didn’t really remember him much, your school being overly large and populated.

Sunghoon had told you once, the first day Jay had walked in at the same time as you and you commented on his familiarity, that they had run in the same circle back in school but Jay was absent from their parties or football activities a lot more often, hence why you most likely couldn’t exactly place his face to anything specific.

“Does he know me then?” You had asked him, muttering a small thanks when he passed you your ice coffee.

“Do you mean does he know that you used to hook up with our team captain after every practice?” Sunghoon was raising an eyebrow and taking the empty seat across from you. “Yeah Y/N, he knows.”

Sunghoon was referring to the exact reason you and him hadn’t been friends in high school.

Lee Heeseung was somebody you’d spent many years trying to rid yourself of, both thought wise and the terrible reputation you’d been given just by being seen in his vicinity more than a dozen times.

Heeseung had been the captain of the football team which, in true cliche high school form, had meant he basically ran the school in terms of power and popularity. He wasn’t exactly the worst person to have this position considering his personality, he was nice to almost everybody and hilarious without meaning to be, but he was still Lee Heeseung.

You’d known of him before anything ever happened between the two of you of course, growing up together considering neither one of you ever switched districts or moved to one of the rival schools.

Still you weren’t necessarily falling high on the popularity scale, sticking to your group of friends and never bothering to join any extracurriculars that took up your precious after school time.

So it was particularly confusing that he had noticed you, and noticed was a small word for it.

Your friends had forced you along to the first game of the season despite your complaints, not caring for sports especially ones that required you to sit in a cold metal bench while freezing your ass off. Still, you subjected to their pleads and demands and found yourself begrudgingly entering the football fields gated concession area.

Almost immediately you’d been stopped by a boy, taking a second of scanning him to realize who it was underneath all that gear and face paint. Lee Heeseung was removing his helmet and shaking his messy hair to give it back some volume, offering you a toothy smile as you raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Cheerleader section is over there.” Had been the first words out of his mouth and judging by the gleam in his big eyes, he had figured that to be a pretty good pick up line.

He has faltered slightly in his confidence however when you glanced down at your sweatpants and large sweater, looking back to meet his eyes with an unimpressed stare as you leaned back slightly.

“Do I look like I’m here to cheerlead?” You mumbled, although you’d realized he was trying to sweet talk you, you still didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of an awkward laugh or you thanking him.

Your friends had come back from getting their hot dogs and drinks then, not realizing who exactly you were speaking to before they were grabbing your arms and excitedly making their way over to pick a good seat in the bleachers, leaving you to spare Heeseung a look over your shoulder and shrug when you saw him standing dumbfounded.

You hadn’t thought much about it while waiting for the game to officially start, knowing it was probably a one off encounter. Heeseung had a known habit of flirting with everything and anyone that moved, all genders included, and you didn’t think it was something you needed to care about for more than 20 minutes.

He was quickly proving you wrong however once the starting whistle was ringing out and he was immediately finding you in the stands. Every time he made a successful pass or scoring a touchdown, he was looking towards you in the crowd and shooting you a smile or a thumbs up.

It took about an hour for your friends to realize who he was looking at and you spent the rest of the game listening to their squeaks of excitement as they shook your shoulders, paired with the glared of jealously others were giving you once they also caught on to who it was that had caught their football captains attention.

Despite your best attempts to keep rejecting him, Heeseung’s efforts to woo you got more and more intense and eventually you were playing into them in return.

This lead you into four years of near disaster, entering a rocky relationship, if you could ever call it that, that was mainly you breaking up every few days followed by makeup sex that you never told anybody about. It wasn’t necessarily a secret considering everybody knew about your situationship but neither one of you would ever confirm it, brushing off questions or assumptions.

You never dated officially but everybody knew you were together, although this never stopped girls and guys from trying to get with Heeseung. As far as you knew he never took the bait, remaining faithful to you and your arrangement although he had no reason to ever honor this silent code of monogamy.

You imagine the football team had gotten the most inside scoop out of the rest of the school, often seeing you and Heeseung arguing in the parking lot after practice or you walking away with tear filled eyes just to return a few days later kissing him and glued to his side with a bright smile.

Things were messy but you were happy to be around him during the good times, both of you at fault when things got rocky. He didn’t treat you bad necessarily, you just weren’t good for each other but too obsessed to ever let go or move on. That didn’t mean there wasn’t times where you’d sit in bed and wish it was over, hovering over the send button on the break up message you’d formulated just to delete it for the 100th time.

Then Heeseung was offered a sports scholarship to a university in America and things were over just like that.

It was a bit more complicated considering the nights you spent crying together, curled up on his twin mattress or the arguments you had that left him storming out and slamming doors. But regardless, it was the official end to your four years of trying to make it work.

“What are you thinking about so intensely?” Jay’s smooth voice was breaking you from your trip down memory lane as he took the seat next to you, watching you with a concerned frown. “Is it the reunion?”

“Am I the only one who thinks a five year reunion is a little bit overkill? Half of us are still the exact same.” Sunghoon was adding on from behind the counter and you sighed.

They were referring to the fact that earlier this week, school president Yang Jungwon had sent a mass email to all ex students announcing he was throwing a five year reunion party at your old school, right here in your hometown.

“Yeah Hoon, like anyone would’ve guessed you’d become Mr. Flower Boy.” Jay was shaking his head and turning back to look at you with that same expression. “I really doubt he’s going to be there. He’s a super busy guy these days.”

“Why would she care if he’s going or not?” Sunghoon was chiming in again before you could and you sighed in irritation.

“She can speak you know.” You gave him a warning glance and he mimicked zipping up his lips, smiling when you laughed at the way he threw away the key after. “But I don’t care, he’s right. It’s been five years since I’ve seen him and plus I’ve moved on now.”

“So it’s safe to say you’ll be taking your loser as your plus one? Sorry Jay.” Sunghoon was kissing his teeth as he finished the last part and you rolled your eyes.

He liked to tease Jay about having a secret crush on you all these years although the other boy strictly denied it every time it was brought up, getting the same nasty scowl on his face that he had right now.

“Jiung isn’t a loser.” You attempted to defend your coworker who you had been going on casual dates with for a few months now but your voice was weak and you winced slightly. “At least he’s nice.”

“You might as well call him a loser. No guy likes to be called nice.” Sunghoon remarked.

He was joining you at the third seat of the table then and you sighed softly knowing he was right, guilt rising up in your chest considering you were having second thoughts about taking him as your date to the reunion. You glanced at Jay who was already watching you with a soft expression.

“Well I think nice is good.”

——

It was only about two weeks later that the reunion was approaching and you felt sick to your stomach as you sat in your car, your schools logo shining a bright light into the dark parking lot and causing you to groan as you rested your forehead against your steering wheel.

Your phone was lighting up with a text message, letting you know that Sunghoon and Jay were waiting for you near the entrance so you could walk in together.

You took a deep breath before giving yourself a small pep talk, finally getting out of the car and adjusting your dress before meeting them underneath the archway. It was strange to see them in such a familiar place but looking so different and meaning a lot more to you now. They seemed to be feeling the same thing as they watched you with nostalgic looks.

“Well if it isn’t Y/N L/N.” Sunghoon was chiming and meeting you half way, throwing an arm over your shoulders and leading you towards the entrance doors. Jay followed quietly behind, watching the two of you with a half smile. “So whats your first period?”

“Wrestling if you don’t take your arm off me.” You groaned and pushed him away from you, not needing rumors to start before you’d even entered the building. Jiung would be arriving after his shift ended and you didn’t need to be seen with multiple men by your old judge classmates.

As much as you didn’t want to attend you couldn’t deny how beautiful the gym looked. Jungwon had done an amazing job of decorating it and making the space feel less like early PE and more like a grand ball, an upgraded version of the homecomings he had thrown back then.

You made a mental note to find him and compliment his interior design skills before following your friends over to the drinks and snacks.

Your skin was still buzzing with anxiety at the thought of seeing people you once knew, one in particular, but you reminded yourself he most likely wouldn’t come. If he did it would be okay regardless, you’d moved on and it had been almost half a decade since you’d seen his handsome face.

Which is why it was almost too intense of a shock wave that hit you when you spun around with your drink in hand and were immediately face to face with the same boy you’d been praying you didn’t run into tonight.

Heeseung was already watching you from a few feet away, having recognized the back of your head despite being confused considering the two boys you were hanging out with, his old friends who he never once thought you’d encountered. But when you turned to the side to laugh at something Sunghoon said as he poured your drink, he was certain it was you and his feet instinctively started to move in your direction.

You were both frozen as you looked at each other with wide eyes, not saying anything as you took in the others appearance and presence.

Heeseung looked the same but different somehow. His eyes were the first thing you noticed, still overwhelmingly round and beautiful but calmer now. He was lacking his boyish spark that always made him seem like he was one burst of energy from absolutely exploding.

Physically he was larger although he’d always carried lean muscle from playing multiple sports. While then he had relied on speed and being agile, now he seemed stronger and more sturdy judging by the way his button up stretched slightly over his chest. You felt uncomfortable as he looked at you, knowing he was probably making similar judgements about you and you nudged Sunghoon with your elbow to get his attention.

“Whats wrong sweet?” He was spinning around to address you kindly but faltering when he followed your frozen gaze and saw his old friend standing a few feet away. “Oh dude, what’s up Heeseung?”

Sunghoon’s voice was excited as he addressed him but you watched the way the older boys jaw clenched at the use of the nickname towards you, shifting on his feet and not even sparing his high school friend a glance as he gave you a knowing look. You recognized the signs of jealously and annoyance on his face and you sighed softly as you realized he hadn’t changed as much as you thought.

He finally turned to address Sunghoon as they exchanged bro like high-fives and a side hug before he was leaning back again to glance between the two of you.

“So you two…?” He trailed off but you knew what he was implying as he pointed a finger back and fourth a few times.

You tried not to think about how different his voice sounded or the way his half smirk he was offering the two of you didn’t match his gentle face, heart in your throat as the previous image of him youd held so dearly the last five years disappeared and molded into this new version of him in front of you.

“Oh no man, no way.” Sunghoon was laughing once he realized, not catching onto the fact the other boy was clearly irritated and you were growing more uncomfortable by the second. He glanced over at you and your other friend beside you and you immediately knew what he was going to say judging by the mischievous look in his eye. “She’s with Jay.”

All three of you froze in shock, although you had expected him to say it it still didn’t make the impact any less heavy. It fell completely silent as you waited for Sunghoon to break the joke and laugh, tell Heeseung he was only kidding so you could finally say your goodbyes and leave the awkward situation behind. He didn’t however, watching you to wait and see what you would say.

“What a surprise.” Heeseung’s cold voice was filtering in instead and you felt Jay stiffen from beside you. “So you finally grew a pair? Only took you a decade I guess.”

Now Sunghoon was freezing alongside the rest of you and his mouth parted softly, despite being the one who constantly teased your friend and brought it up, even he was thrown off by how mean the comment Heeseung had made was.

You felt sick to your stomach once you processed what he was saying, implying both that Sunghoon hadn’t been joking when he talked about the other boys crush on you and also the fact he had seemingly known about it since before you even got together freshman year. You were turning your head slightly to glance at Jay to see him still completely stiff, his face ghost white with bright red cheeks from his embarrassment.

“Jay?” You whispered and the sound of your voice seemed to break him from his trance, shooting you a panicked look before he was awkwardly placing his drink back down on the table and clumsily excusing himself.

He was gone before you could object and Sunghoon sighed before following him, patting you on the back and glaring at Heeseung as he went.

This left you alone with the boy and although he still looked as irritated as he did a few minutes ago, now there was confusion masking his features as well. You glared at him but didn’t say anything, just shaking your head before turning to try and follow your friends out of the auditorium.

However a hand on your arm was stopping you and you whipped around back towards the boy, yanking your arm away from him and trying to ignore the fact your skin lit up with a fire the second he had touched you. A flash of hurt passed by his face before it was hardening again and you scoffed.

“Don’t leave yet.” He was rushing out and for a second he sounded like he had last time you’d seen him, a hint of desperation in his voice. “We haven’t even talked.”

“Why would we need to talk?” You practically hissed at him although you weren’t sure why. His comment had been mean but he didn’t know any better, obviously not realizing the stupid joke and just retorting in the way a childish ex boyfriend would.

Heeseung faltered at your tone and he finally let some expression show, a confused and hesitant look on his face as he glanced down to your feet and then back up to hold your glare. He shrugged and took a step away from you, letting you know you were able to go and follow the other boys.

You sighed at his reaction and made no move to leave, watching him for a second and trying to think about a way to handle this that would create the least amount of drama.

“Come with me to find Jay and then we can go somewhere and talk.” You were eventually saying and he was thinking for a moment before nodding and following you out of the gym.

The two of you walked in silence down the hallways and you couldn’t help but steal glances at him every few seconds, your mind having a hard time understanding the visual of adult Heeseung walking down the same floors he had last time you’d seen him. You figured he was doing something similar judging by the way you kept awkwardly meeting each others eyes and hurriedly looking away.

“How’d that happen anyways?” He was asking you once you pushed through the doors back outside and you looked at him in confusion. “You and those guys being friends.”

You smiled at the mention of them and shrugged softly, pulling your jacket up on your shoulders tighter once the cold night air nipped at your skin. “I imagine we could’ve been friends in high school too if I wasn’t so busy.”

He was laughing softly and turning to walk sideways so he could look at you more clearly, your heart picking up in speed when you looked at him to see that familiar smirk and cocky glint in his eyes that arrived at the mention of your activities in high school.

“Remind me what it was that had you so occupied back then.” He was asking but he already knew, just wanting to hear you say it and see your reaction.

You considered humoring him for half a second before deciding against it, rolling your eyes and looking away from his intense stare before you did something stupid.

He was taking a step closer to you then and you stopped walking, watching with saddened eyes as he took a few more, his hand coming up to hold your arm again although a lot more gentle this time around. Your stomach turned at the feeling of him touching you and you could’ve cried if you thought about it for too long.

“I missed you.” He was whispering suddenly and you hated that you could hear the sincerity in his voice, breaking around his words slightly as he softly squeezed your arm. “I really fucking missed you.”

You were turning your head downwards softly to try to stop yourself from tearing up and being an embarrassing ex, mouth opening and closing as you tried to think of something you could say to him that wouldn’t hurt either of your feelings.

You were swiftly interrupted by the sound of a car door closing a few parking spaces down and you took a step away from the boy just in case, his hand falling off your arm and dangling in mid air for a few seconds before he removed it. You glanced behind you towards the sound and your sick feeling got worse when you realized who it was that was approaching you.

“Y/N.” Jiung waved at you with a big smile and you tried to offer back a small one, wincing when he approached and wrapped an arm around your side. He was turning towards the other boy in greeting. “This must be one of your classmates.”

Heeseung had lost the gentle expression on his face again, eyes hard as they shot down to the hand sitting on your waist. He was looking back up at you with a raised eyebrow and you sighed softly when you noticed his jaw clenching again. Still he surprised you when he stuck a hand out towards your date, gripping the others firmly in a handshake before giving him a forced smile.

“Heeseung.” He offered his name and Jiung froze beside you.

“Oh…. this is Heeseung.” He glanced down at you and you bit the inside of your cheek awkwardly, nodding slowly as he pieced together who it was that was standing in front of him, finally putting a face to the name.

Heeseung on the other hand seemed pleased at the realization that you had talked about him, especially to this guy that was slowly loosening his hold around your body the longer he glared at him intensely. You felt a surge of annoyance that the boy still held a childish amount of possessiveness and jealously over you despite the fact you hadn’t had contact with him in years.

“This is Jiung my… friend.” You eventually introduced him, trying to lessen the awkward tension that was building to a suffocating amount.

Jiung faltered at the title you gave him but you weren’t lying necessarily, you’d been going on dates every since he asked you out at a company dinner but you hadn’t talked about it in detail or really moved towards anything serious.

This seemed to calm Heeseung down for a second before he was glancing at you, trying to decide what you considered a friend. He recalled you introducing him as that back in the day and he most definitely didn’t have you in a friendly way most of the time. You shot him a warning glare and he lost his intimidating expression immediately as he listened to you.

You ushered Jiung inside after that, telling Heeseung to go find Jay and apologize and ignoring him when he groaned and tried to follow on your heels like a lost puppy.

“What was that?” Jiung was whispering once you got inside and you looked at him with a raised eyebrow, not liking the harsh tone he suddenly had with you. “I’m your friend now?”

You stared at him in disbelief knowing he only cared because the person you had said it to. You’d called him your friend for months and vice versa but clearly his ego was wounded at the fact you’d said it to Heeseung. You were a bit sick of the amount of male ego floating around tonight and you were about ready to leave at this point.

“When have you ever been otherwise.” You spat back at him and he scoffed, uncharacteristically angry. He normally was quiet and pretty shy hence why Sunghoon had taken to calling him a loser, never to his face of course.

You figured the night wouldn’t be much fun but you didn’t expect to be sat at one of the tables in awkward silence with your coworker, your friends no where to be seen still. Your arms were crossed and you weren’t bothering to mask the annoyed look on your face as Jiung the as in a similar position, still throwing a hissy fit over the title you’d given him.

Jungwon had stopped by your table at one point, greeting you warmly despite being slightly awkward considering your date had completely ignored his arrival. You paid him no mind and enthusiastically told your old president what a good job he had done, citing that everybody seemed to be having a good time.

He smiled and thanked you despite clearly being able to tell you weren’t necessarily apart of that, noticing you sitting with a frown on your face earlier.

The rest of the night carried on like that and then it was finally ending, masses of feet finding their way outside the school again. You walked past the groups of people saying goodbye to each other, not bothering to join in on the charade considering you weren’t in the best mood and definitely at risk of being accidentally rude to an old peer.

Jiung was following you silently and when you reached his car and stared at him he took a moment before speaking.

“I’m sorry if I ruined the night.” He was stating and you gave him a tired glance. “I don’t know why I acted like that… just seeing him and knowing how much he meant to you…”

“Well he doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.” You were cutting him off before he could finish, shaking your head and contemplating giving him a hug goodbye before deciding against it, offering a small wave instead as you turned to go and find where you had parked.

You took your time as you walked to the other side of the parking lot, watching Jiung’s car as it pulled off and feeling strangely sick again with overwhelming nostalgia.

It was that same feeling you had when you first moved back home and arrived in the local airport, the disappointing ride back home as it stormed like the sky could feel how saddened you felt. It didn’t go away for weeks, that heavy hole in your heart, especially as you adjusted to the places you would frequent with Heeseung, having to get used to not seeing him around every corner.

“So I don’t mean anything then?” His voice now was a stark reminder of that as he rounded his way through the cars closest to yours, clearly having listened in on your conversation a few minutes prior.

“Do you always spy on your old classmates conversations?” You were sighing and putting your keys back into your pocket, leaning against your car as you watched him.

He joined you, scanning your new vehicle first for a second before he was leaning onto it beside you and touching your shoulder to his. The car was slightly wet from the earlier drizzle but he didn’t complain as it sunk through his long sleeve shirt, sending him a cold chill that you could feel on your arm that was pressed against him.

“Is that what we are? Old classmates?” He was asking with a small laugh but it lacked any humor, his voice sounding slightly wounded like it had earlier.

“Let’s not do this.” You shook your head softly, the longing and desperation on his face making your heart beat almost painfully in your throat. “Please Heeseung.”

Lee Heeseung had always felt like a drug to you and he knew this more than anybody considering he felt the same way.

You remembered after you and him had first started to fool around with each other, you hadn’t thought too deeply about it. He was a known player and although he’d been around your life since you were young that didn’t make you exempt from his flirting and advances apparently like you had figured. He’d never paid you any attention before but you weren’t going to get your heartbroken by him.

Still, he was cute and you liked the way he smiled so naturally you didn’t decline once he continued to show interest in you. That’s all it was at first however, quick hookups in his car before practice or once or twice you went to his house on a free weekend to see him.

You never acknowledged each other in public, especially not at school, and you rarely talked outside of having sex and saying meaningless words. This was okay with you and you never expected anything else, almost preferring how easy and simple the arrangement was as of now.

Then one day after lunch, one of Heeseung’s more publicly known hookups was pouring her drink over your head. She’d barely gotten a few words out before she was being dragged away by teachers but you vaguely heard her screaming something about you being a slut as she cried and kicked. When you asked him about it the next weekend while getting dressed in his room, he casually told you he had broken stuff off with her because of you.

You’d stopped midway from putting your bra back on to look at him in bewilderment, him casually avoiding your glance despite the fact he was anxiously fidgeting with his fingers.

“Why the hell would you do that Hee?” You remember hissing at him and he raised his thin shoulders in a careless shrug.

“Maybe you’re just my favorite.” He was retorting with a small smirk, dodging out of the way when you chucked your shirt in his direction.

He had said it like it was a joke but that didn’t stop you from paying extra attention to his behavior from there on out. Heeseung was clearly obsessed with you and you would’ve been annoyed by his antics if you weren’t in the same boat, almost feeling sick every time you went more than a week without being able to see him.

You spent almost all of your free time together, even on the days where you had been “broken up”.

Your friends had been excited for you at first, being not only noticed by the most popular guy at school but also being the first girl he seemed to actually care about. Their excitement turned to worry the longer your toxic relationship went on and the more weekends you spent crying in bed after another nasty argument.

It was always stupid things you’d argue about, childish assumptions and major jealously issues on both sides. Heeseung didn’t like the way boys are parties looked at you and you hate the girls on the cheerleading team who called his name louder than they did the rest of the boys.

So you’d scream and you’d fight and you’d slam doors so hard the wood would crack but then less than a week later you’d be underneath him again, murmuring about how you can’t live without each other and you’d never love somebody as much as you loved him.

“What are we doing?” He was speaking again now regarding your warning for him to stop speaking the way he was. “We are just talking, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You know it’s never just talking with us.” You laughed a dry laugh and looked down at your feet, sadness ripping through you again at the reminder you weren’t stupid kids anymore.

You were older now and more mature, supposedly moved on, yet your heart still raced every time he smiled and your entire arm was on fire just from the feeling of his sleeve against your jacket. The pit in your stomach full of longing was screaming out at you to lean into him, to scratch that itch that never left and always begged you to pick up the phone and call him.

“I knew I missed you, I mean I think about you every day but….” He trailed off for a second and you looked over towards him, watching the side of his face as he took a deep breath. “I feel like this is the first time I’ve been able to breathe in 5 years.”

“We were terrible together.” You whispered back to him, trying to keep your sad tone lighthearted so he understood you were mostly joking.

You didn’t like that when he looked at you, you felt 18 again. His eyes were teary and you wanted to reach up and hold his cheek, wipe your thumb gently under his eye and whisper nice things to him until it cleared away.

You remembered the first time you’d ever seen Heeseung cry and you felt like your world had collapsed. He always was so strong and optimistic, calm in bad situations and cracking jokes when you were so frustrated you couldn’t find it in yourself to even laugh at him despite appreciating his ability to always make light of a situation.

So when he had shown up on your doorstep your junior year soaking wet from the rain and sobbing so hard he was leaning against your door for support, you felt like you had quite literally died.

You’d pulled him inside quickly and he wrapped you in a bone cracking hug, completely soaking your clothes although you didn’t mind or object in any way.

You hadn’t seen him for a few days considering you’d fought the previous weekend after a boy at a party had snaked his hand around your waist and squeezed slyly before Heeseung was ripping him off of you and nearly pummeling him into the ground, only stopping his attack when a few of his friends heard the yells and gasps and helped you pull him away from the boy.

After storming out of the party you scolded him for being so careless, only one year from graduation with a near perfect record that would help with scholarships.

“You think I give a fuck about any of that?” He had sneered at you under the streetlight and you remembered the way his voice echoed throughout the quiet street, his cheek red and swollen from the other guy getting a few good hits in.

“You should.” You had yelled back, hands coming up in confusion.

“All that matters to me is this.” He was approaching you swiftly but you didn’t flinch back, not even with the aggressiveness from earlier still floating through his eyes, knowing he’d never hurt you. “You are what matters to me, this is all I have.”

You’d told him he was crazy for saying things like that and tried to remind him how important football was and how he needed to get this scholarship, he needed these opportunities and you weren’t going to let him throw them away for you. This upset him and he’d called you a ride home before disappearing somewhere, now returning on your doorstep like a stray dog.

“What’s wrong?” You were gasping into his wet hair, a cold chill running through you considering just how soaked he was.

You shuffled the two of you over to the door so could close it, taking a peak outside briefly to see his car wasn’t in your driveway. He had either gotten a ride and stood outside for a while or he’d walked the two hours from his own house.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Tell me what happened?” You tried to pull back from the hug to look at his face but he was squeezing you tighter, a panicked cry slipping through his lips at the feeling of you even attempting to pull away from him.

You didn’t try again and you didn’t talk either, both of you sinking to the floor as he cried and shook in your arms. You were petting his hair softly and ignoring the small puddle that was building up around you on your floor.

Eventually once he calmed down he was able to tell you what happened. Heeseung’s grandma, who he lived with full time and was raised by, had passed away a day or two prior and he’d only gotten the news once he finally came home and found her gone.

It’d been a long time since that night now but as you looked at him now it’s all you could think about. You think, in a way, that’s when you fully realized how much you truly loved him. This wasn’t a high school fling or you both being unhealthy obsessed with each other to the point you thought you were in love, it was serious for you and the thought made your stomach hurt.

Not because you had any doubt he loved you too, that was never a concern of yours. Quite the opposite considering he was a lot more open in his care for you than you were towards him, instinctively keeping him at an arms length distance sometimes.

It made you feel so terrible because you knew how it would end before it even did, you knew he would do great like he always did and he’d be given opportunities that didn’t have room for you in them. He would get too busy or too full of himself and you’d be left on the back burner, then he’d move on and forget all about you.

Hearing him now express how terribly he’d missed you, equating it to years worth of suffocation, made your stomach turn for other reasons.

“We weren’t terrible we were just kids.” He was retorting and you watched him as he shifted closer to you against the car. He’d always been taller than you but he seemed especially large now, his face and voice more mature.

“I saw the way you looked at Jiung and Jay earlier.” You reminded him and shook your head in denial. “It’s the same, you would’ve beat him bloody if you could have.”

“Moment of weakness. I’m not like that anymore.” He was quick to reply, almost like he knew you were going to bring it up. You glanced at him again and he was already watching you curiously. “But I’d do it if I had to yeah, I’d do anything for you.”

You were pulling off the car so you could fully face him, standing in front of him and looking at him with an incredulous expression. He was directly going against his first statement that he had changed for the better and you felt frustrated that he wasn’t understanding your point of view.

“How can you say that to me?” You whispered to him and he winced at the pain in your tone, reaching a hand out to hold your arm softly and feeling relieved when you didn’t immediately swat him away. “It’s been a long time Heeseung, you’re just confused because you’re back here.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” He was shaking his head and scoffing, playing with your jacket sleeve and pinching it softly between his reddening fingers. “It hasn’t been a long time to me, I’m still here every day in my head. Every morning I’m still waking up beside you even when you’re not there.”

You knew it was probably stupid to lean forward towards him, everything in you telling you you’d regret it but you couldn’t help it as you listened to him talk.

You didn’t kiss him or anything, just simply leaned your body forward against his on the car so he could wrap his arms around your lower back and hold you tighter than he’d been holding your sleeve, but it was enough for him to know you were listening and attempting to hear him out.

He sucked in a breath now that you were pushed against him and for a second you thought he’d start to tear up again, a similar overwhelming feeling of relief and comfort washing through you at just the small act of being close to him again.

“So you miss me too?” He was whispering now that you were closer, looking down at you. You were close enough that if he leaned down your noses would touch but he didn’t, just watching you as you peered up at him.

“Of course I miss you.” You finally surrendered and told him part of the truth, not liking the way his eyes immediately lit up in happiness and the way it made your cheeks flush with warmth. “I miss you so bad it hurts sometimes.”

“Then come with me.” He was practically pleading and you felt his big hands squeezing against your back, pulling you against him tighter as he watched you with big earnest eyes. “Come with me and…. And I-I’ll do better, we can start over.”

You were crying now as he spoke so desperately and he immediately stopped talking once he realized, pulling you in fully for a hug and letting you cry into his chest like you had done for him all those years ago. You let your hands come up to rest flat on his back, feeling the way he took shuddering breaths and the fast beating of his heart.

There was no possible way you could give Heeseung what he wanted, you couldn’t leave with him and you knew there was no place for your love in the universe as much as you wished it was different.

You thought back to the last time you’d had a similar conversation to this, when you found out he’d been offered the scholarship of his dreams all the way in America.

“You can come with obviously, they’re giving me my own little dorm and everything.” He’d been so excited as he rambled and packed up his desk, not noticing the way you were silent and emotionless just behind him on his unmade bed.

When he had finally turned to look at you and see why you weren’t giving him any reactions, his face dropped seeing your teary eyes as you softly shook your head. You were still in your pajamas from the night before when everything was perfect and just the two of you laying in bed together watching Toy Story, now your heart felt like it was being ripped from your chest.

“Angel what’s wrong?” He was rushing back over to the bed and climbing on it, stopping right in front of you and holding your face gently as you started to cry. “No no no, don’t cry my sweet girl. What happened, tell me what happened?”

You didn’t need to voice the fact that you wouldn’t be going with him, giving him a heavy glance that only took him a few seconds to understand. There wasn’t much of a conversation after that despite his deep desire to beg you to change your mind, to reconsider. Heeseung wasn’t going to make you do something you didn’t want, even though getting on the plane without you changed him forever.

You were pulling back from the hug gently so he didn’t think you were mad at him, looking up at him and holding his face softly as you tried to think of what to say or do.

“I’ll show you.” He whispered before you could, nodding his head softly as his voice cracked from his own sob. He was biting his lip softly to stop from crying too hard and you stopped thinking he looked so different, only able to see the boy you knew before as you looked at him now. “Give me time and I’ll show you, I promise. Don’t give up on me.”

You were taking a deep breath as you watched him speak, slowly making up your mind and just simply wrestling with the knowledge that what you were about to say would change things for you drastically, change them for a long time to come.

“I could never give up on you.”

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung #heeseung drabbles #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #sunghoon enhypen #jay enhypen #sunghoon fluff #jay fluff #enhypen au #enhypen smut #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #jiung x reader

[princesssmars]

Hiiii! If you don’t mind could you please do a Sam carpenter x fem/gn!reader, where the reader is just like completely overstimulated and someone from the friend group does something that just makes the reader like get super upset and makes them walk away and sam is kinda confused and goes to asks the reader and comforts them and stuff? If not then that’s okay!

trust me

a sam carpenter x reader

wc : 1533

cw : fluff. angst. reader is stressed. conflict caused by mindy but its justified so don't think i don't love her! italic bit thats readers thoughts. ethan slander fuck that little worm. (f/t) means fave takeout!

an : couldnt think of a title nahh 💀but thank you for the request im happy to do it! i hope you like this even if it might be a bit rushed bc i wanna help add to the sam tag since im obsessed with her rn.

when you first moved to new york city it was a whirlwind. new people, new things to see, great food. granted when you got off of your first subway ride a rat tried to fight you over the grinder you had in your hand, but you still loved it.

but of course, everything didn't stay sunshine and rainbows for long. the big apple was expensive, and finding a job that fit your schedule and was able to pay your side of the rent was tough. but you managed. kind of.

your roommate and close friend convinced you to see a therapist she had heard about from a friend, and you decided it couldn't hurt to try. the guy was helpful if a bit annoying, but it was worth it when you saw her coming out of her session. now NYC was filled with a plethora of hot people, but you swear when she made eye contact with you and gave you a polite smile you felt your brain melting.

you saw her a few more times before you introduced yourself. she seemed wary but told you about herself as well, telling you her name was sam and that she had moved to new york not long ago as well with her sister for college. she seemed nervous, but you were a stranger so you chalked it off as anxiety.

you asked her for her number and did a small mental celebration when she said yes, deciding to text her the next afternoon to not seem too desperate.

luckily your efforts paid off! she was a bit distant the first few times you talked, but after inviting her out for lunch at some new restaurant in brooklyn she warmed up to you quickly, even enough to introduce you to her sister and her friends.

it was only after a few weeks of knowing her that you found out what happened in woodsboro. you had an inkling that something bad had happened, the way sam was hesitant with phsyical affection, the caution they all took when locking their doors and carrying mace and tasers with them to get groceries. when sam had let you in to what happened with ghostface - her ex - and how he had almost killed all of them. you had let her know it didn't make tou think of her any differently, that you still cared about her and her past wouldn't change that. that moment had led to the first kiss between the two of you.

and you had meant what you said to sam, that you would stick beside her no matter what. but it still took a toll on you, that danger was following you and the people you had grown to care about no magter what.

the one thing you didn't expect was for them to expect the danger could be you.

it was supposed to be a normal friday night at sam's apartment, spent talking to each other and her friends and maybe watching a movie with some takeout after her appointment. nice and simple.

the door opens and you turn to see if it's sam, smiling when tara, chad, mindy and anika walked through the door. chad's roommate. ethan, wasn't with them this time and you let out a small sigh of relief. he seemed nerdy enough

"hey guys, everything alright?" you asked the group, noticing the down and wary looks on their faces. tara mumbled something before quickly walking into her room, chad hot on her heels. anika rested on the couch next to yours with a sigh, mindy sitting next to her and farther away from you. a bit odd, but you chalked it up to all of them being tired from school.

"something happened over at fordham. some girl from blackmore was found almost butchered in an alley." anika wrings hers hands together, a nervous habit she told you she picked up as a kid.

"jesus christ, do they have any clue who might have done it?" you ask.

"oh please, how many freaks do you you think like to nearly carve out peoples chest?" mindy scoffed, busying herself with something on her phone.

"you don't think it's ghostface, do you?" your voice was wavering against your will. after sam had told you what happened you did some digging into the masked killer, and its safe to say you were on edge until it eventually showed its face again.

she shrugged. "we all knew they were gonna find us again eventually. nows just a matter of determining who it is." she looked at you, and you felt the strain behind your eyes at how far they widened.

"i hope you're not saying what i think you're saying..."

"dont take it too personally, y/n. she accused me and ethan too." anika waved your worries off, and even though her normally peaceful personality would calm anyone down, it wasn't really working right now.

"i'm just saying, you're also new to the friend group, coincidentally moved here a while before us and had the same therapist as sam? and then started dating her? it's suspicious." mindy lists off the reasons she suspects you, and with each item you feel your chest tighten.

is this really what they think of me? a threat? does sam think of me like this? does she not trust me? does she not love me?

you don't register the sound of mindy's voice or the sound of the front door opening before you hurry from the couch to the bedroom near the back of the apartment - sam's room.

you sit on the edge of the bed and put your head in your hands, trying to calm the racing negative thoughts in your head. it feels like hours when its probably been a few minutes of you failing to calm yourself down when the door opens slowly and a weight sits down on the bed next to you.

"is it ok if i touch you?" sam ask from next to you, making sure to keep a good distance so as not to overwhelm you. when you nod and whisper out a yes she moves to sit behind your body, wrapping her arms around you and allowing you to fall back and rest on her chest.

"do you wanna tell me what's going on? it's alright if you dont, i'll still be right here."

her soft tone makes you squint your eyes hard, scared that she's trying to get you to let your guard down. but there's a little voice in your head that trusts her more than anything. that desperately wants to let her in. so you do.

"it's just...mindy was talking about ghostface and she was questioning me. i know that you've all been through so much but...if they can't, if you don't trust me then i don't know what i would do."

sam doesn't interrupt while you speak, fully paying attention to your words as you let her know what's bothering you. you're just about to walk back your statement because of her silence when she softly turns your body to sit sideways in her lap, bringing her hand up to cup your face and turn it so you can't look anywhere but her eyes.

"hey, i want you to listen to me, ok? you know mindy. she's just looking out for us, she didn't mean to antagonize you im sure of it. if anything i'm pretty sure if ghostface comes back she's more likely to suspect ethan right away, the kid weirds her out," she says, unable to help herself from smiling when you giggle at her words.

"but more importantly you know me. you know i'd never have anyone around me, my sister or our friends if i didn't trust them, yeah? i trust you and i love you, more than anything."

you cant help but tear up and smile at her words. sam wasn't one for frequent words of affection, so you knew when she said something she meant it. she lets out a small grunt when you throw yourself into a hug in her arms, tackling the both of you onto the bed in a heap of giggles. you spend the next few minutes laughing and sharing small i love you's and sweet kisses.

after you've both calmed down sam asks if you're ready to head into the living room, squeezing your hand when you give a strained little nod. walking together back to the living room, your face lights up at the smell of your favorite takeout, rushing to the couch to see everyone munching down on some food.

mindy turns her head around to see you and purses her lips awkwardly. "uh, i was hungry so i ordered some (f/t). there's enough for the both of you."

"she's trying to apologize for calling you ghostface." tara butts in while taking another bite of her food, ignoring when mindy slaps her on the leg.

"aww, it's alright cheeks. i understand." you tease the brunette with the silly nickname you gave her a few weeks ago, reaching over to squish her cheeks together like a kid. she sticks her tounge out at you but doesn't move to stop you, figuring she'll let you have this.

"yeah yeah whatever, sit down and eat your food."

you sit on sams' lap on the squished couch, ignoring the kissing noises and fake gagging sounds of your friends. in this moment, nothing anyone says can get to you.

.

.

.

i believe in the lost art of ending the fic with a cheesy bit. happy pride gaybos.

#scream #scream 6 #scream vi #scream x reader #sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter fluff

[torhues]

tooru oikawa.

"so, any other girl, or boy, you have your eyes on?" the question leaves your mouth almost too carelessly, words laced with your soft chuckle and a hint of witticism that leaves oikawa smiling.

you wonder if they're enough to hide your true emotions.

"yeah, actually, i do," his words resonate with the same emotions as yours, a smile dancing on his lips, the corner of his eyes crinkling as the notification of your battery reaching twenty-percent appears on the screen. "have had a crush on them for four years now,"

it's the same answer as always.

"you do?" your eyebrows raise up amusingly. "tell me more,"

"i think, i should confess with a bouquet of lilies," he says dreamily, as if he's living in a fairytale, about to propose the love of his life. there was a point when you were the love of his life, and you still are, because if not, why would he ever had spent his whole allowance on a bouquet of white and yellow flowers.

"and, take them out on a date night," because if he didn't love you, he wouldn't have borrowed money from iwaizumi to make reservations at the most expensive restaurant in the city to surprise you with a perfect dinner before leaving for argentina just three days later.

a minute passes, you admire his eyes, the way they shine bright at the sight of you. perhaps, they've grown a little dim, perhaps it's just the fatigue from a day long practice. you picture tracing your fingers down his nose bridge, then his lips, before cupping your face with his hands to pull him into a chaste kiss. you imagine yourself laughing with him amidst the kisses as his fluttering touches leave tickles down your waist, leaning against his forehead with your eyes closed, letting down all the worries from your shoulders.

you feel his fingers intertwining with yours, missing his touches that make you feel ever so alive. you have never stopped loving him, not even in your dreams, but you miss being in love, and perhaps it's a sacrifice you made to stay with him, even if it means you both have to stay thousands of miles apart.

"didn't know you were so romantic," you smile lazily, clock ticking to eleven thirty before you realise that it's almost bed time for you. new year would've been a little more special to you if it was with him, and if only time didn't separate you from oikawa, things would've been a little easier.

oikawa says something but you fail to hear, too lost in your thoughts to keep check of reality. you see his lips moving but you haven't got a clue, you're too busy admiring his features. you're drowning in the thoughts of him, while he's right in front of you.

maybe, long distance relationships tend to have that effect on people.

maybe, it's fine to think about the memories you made rather than focusing on the person you share those memories with.

maybe, it's fine to not yearn for the person anymore.

"i miss you," another battery warnings appears on your phone. "i want to hold you," you rush to find the charger instead of even paying attention at his words.

"i don't think i can ever love someone else the way i love you," you check under your duvets, on the table, run to the kitchen counter if case you've accidently left your charger there.

"i can't even think of loving anyone else," you check on the couch, under the cushions.

"because i don't want to spend my life with anyone, except you," and in the drawers, on the shelves.

"i think, i am . . . " the rest of the words never reach your ears because of the fireworks going off at a distance, illuminating the sumida river alongside your apartment in shades of red, green, and yellow.

"will you—" and your phone goes off with you in the middle of your living room. the sound of fireworks going off is the only thing you're able to perceive at the moment. the charger is in your hand, you realise you never heard what oikawa was trying to say. you realise that you're a little late.

they say, the flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long, and oikawa and you were the brightest of all. you don't think you've ever met someone like him, someone who is so similar and yet so strange, someone you think you know but there was always something new about him that made you fall for him even more. you would've said those words up until a few months ago, but now your heart doesn't beat the same way it used to, because oikawa is a little too similar that you think there's nothing more to him, and a little to strange that it makes you feel like no matter how much time passes and no matter how much you try, you can never get to know him completely.

maybe it's fine to fall out of love for the exact same reason you fell in love with.

maybe, it's fine to get bored.

the clock ticks to twelve fifteen; another year without oikawa passes, another year without him comes by, and you realise that this is how it's going to be for the rest of you life.

maybe it's fine to let go.

#♡ hues'. #♡ handmade. #oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #oikawa fic #haikyuu fic #oikawa drabble #haikyuu drabbles #oikawa headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #oikawa angst #haikyuu angst #oikawa tooru #haikyuu oikawa

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

How the Light Attaches to a Change of Heart (ao3)

It’s been three years since Rhys demanded Nesta move to the House of Wind or be exiled to the human lands. That day, she walked away and never looked back, choosing a new life for herself on the continent. But something’s not right, and when she returns to Velaris for Elain’s birthday, she figures out what she was missing all along. (For @nessianweek day 5! Title taken from the Marianas Trench song The Death of Me)

There were times when Nesta Archeron thought she had it all.

When she returned each night to the apartment she had by the river, for example, feet sinking into plush carpets as the sun set beyond wide glass windows offering a vista of a city she’d never once thought to see when she was human. When she was paid handsomely each month, two hundred gold coins heavy in her palm, or when she rifled through the papers on her desk and found the deeds to her apartment, her own name penned in ink at the bottom. Times when she found herself in a fancy wine bar, sipping expensive vintage at a marble counter— so vastly different from the dive bars with the sticky floors and low light she’d once drank herself to oblivion in.

A distant memory, now.

So much had changed since then— since she’d last stumbled down a darkened alleyway in Velaris. 

She’d gained so much since then.

Hadn’t she?

Ever since that day at the River House, when Feyre had sat shedding silent tears as Rhysand delivered his ultimatum, when he told her to move the House of Wind or be exiled to the human lands. 

He hadn’t given her a third option.

So Nesta had found one. Had made one for herself when she boarded the next ship for the Continent carrying nothing but a half-empty suitcase and a letter of introduction provided by - of all people - Lucien Vanserra. Within days she’d found herself accepting a job as advisor to the continental monarchs— an ambassador between the continent and the Night Court, Lucien’s counterpart across the sea. 

And her life was… elegant, now.

The kind of life she’d imagined herself living, once. Back when she dreamed of foreign skies and unfamiliar coastlines, a land beneath her feet that hadn’t damned her or ruined her or broken her— where there was salt in the air and the scent of wildflowers on the wind. Vallahan had given her all of that and more, a thousand opportunities and a hundred different paths, and it was enough, she told herself each morning as the sun filtered through the clouds and gilded the mist that hung on the river.

It was enough. 

Wasn’t it?

It wasn’t home, not quite, but it was enough. 

She certainly had more now than she’d ever had in the Night Court, where her grief had kept her in a chokehold so tight she could barely breathe. It was easier now, the weight no longer so crushing, and she’d even gotten herself a cat— long-haired and white, named Tristan after a white knight in some legend she’d grown up with.

It was enough.

And it didn’t matter that it felt hollow, that her victory felt short-lived. It didn’t matter that there was a burn in her chest, a creeping kind of loneliness that dimmed the brightest edges of her fledgling happiness. Something was missing, something lacking, but it didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter.

She had enough.

She hadn’t been back to Velaris since. 

Three years had passed, and her only contact with her sisters had been letters. She wrote monthly to Feyre— ambassadorial business only at first, but the distance made things easier between them, let old wounds heal, and before long Feyre was asking how Nesta fared on the Continent, and Nesta was answering in earnest. Their letters contained post-scripts now, a few brief lines each month that had no bearing on politics or business at all, just two sisters trying to mend a couple of broken bridges, attempting to salvage whatever relationship they had left. 

Nesta never asked about him— the one she’d left that day at the docks, his eyes burning with tears he didn’t shed and a face lined with a grief so complete it told her everything he’d never quite managed to say out loud—

No.

She shook the memory away, pushing it down, down— all the way back to the furthest reaches of that void inside her, where there was no hope of it clawing its way back up again. And with a deep, trembling breath Nesta looked instead at the letter sitting idle on her glass coffee table— the one that she had opened, read, and promptly cast aside. It had lain there for a week now as she tried to figure out what to do with it, the deep purple seal haunting her every time it caught her eye. 

On the wide sofa opposite, Tristan’s fluffy tail flicked as he too looked at that little square of ivory parchment, green eyes narrowed and head tilted as if he could sense, somehow, that that letter was about to take Nesta away. 

Because it was Elain’s birthday soon.

Her twenty-fifth birthday. A significant milestone, even if she was no longer human, and even though for the past few years Nesta had only ever sent Elain a birthday card and a gift, this was different. Feyre had planned a party, and the letter on the table was an invitation— a tentative one, in which Feyre asked cautiously if Nesta thought she might find it in her to attend.

Nesta’s first instinct had been to answer with a resounding, definitive no.

But then she’d looked around at her empty apartment, at Tristan curled up on her velvet sofa, and felt that old pang in her chest, the one that said something was still missing, even if her heart was far more mended now than it had been when she’d left.

There was something hollow inside, right where her heart should be, and if Nesta thought about it for long enough she knew that the reason she was so empty boiled down to messy dark hair and hazel eyes and an argument on the dock before a departing ship, but—

It didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter.

Tristan made a small noise of discontent as Nesta sunk into the cushions beside him, and as she stroked her fingers across his ears, down his neck and over his spine, she figured that she could go back— accept Feyre’s invitation and spend a weekend in Velaris. Just a weekend, just for Elain. She could put on a smile, smooth and serene, and wish Elain a happy birthday in person for the first time in three years. 

And at the end of it all… well, would it really matter if the smile she hid behind didn’t quite reach her eyes?

Would they even notice?

***

The ship had been a bad idea.

Feyre had offered to winnow her to Velaris, but Nesta - stubborn Nesta - had refused, preferring to make her own way to the city, and oh, she regretted it now.

The docks had been an assault.

Each step she took over the creaking wooden boards had reminded her of the way they had shook as he had rushed after her, quaking beneath his leather boots as he reached for her hand. The call of the birds overhead reminded her of how they had cried that day, circling above as she spiralled below, and—

Her heart tightened, something in her chest breaking, cracking, all over again. Just like it had three years ago. 

Like she hadn’t been away at all.

The city beyond the port hadn’t changed either, she realised as she made her way to her sister’s sprawling estate by the river. It was all the same— the same shops still lined the riverfront, the same lemon verbena scent hung in the air, and working her way through the winding streets from the edge of the city to its heart, she found herself retracing old steps, passing the corner where her apartment used to be and walking the same path she’d taken that cold Solstice night, when the snow had fallen in drifts and he had walked her home.

Her breath hitched. 

No, Velaris hadn’t changed— but she had, and idly she wondered if she would find herself still absent from Feyre’s walls when she stepped over her sister’s threshold. If she would walk through that hallway for the first time in three years and find herself still erased, no space left for a portrait of her to fill.

She turned the corner, the River House sitting straight ahead, and wryly she shook her head. What would it matter if she did, she wondered? If the paintings that lined Feyre’s staircase hadn’t expanded to include her? Nesta had been the one to walk away, after all. She’d left, moved on, and refused to come back even though for the first year Feyre had sent invitations to come back for Solstice and Starfall both.

Nesta had ignored them all.

And by the time she’d made her way up that stretching driveway and reached that painted door with the shining bronze knocker, she’d begun to wonder whether she ought to have ignored this one too— if it had been a good idea after all, accepting this invitation. The walk between the docks and the house had done nothing but tie her stomach in knots, familiar grief rising up to meet her like an old, unwelcome friend, and all she could think of was how broken she had been the last time she had stepped foot in this city, how desolate and desperate. Standing on that wide marble step at the foot of her sister’s front door, suddenly Nesta paused. Hesitated. 

There was laughter drifting from an open window, the gentle buzz of conversation, and all she could think was… 

Did she knock?

The rest of Rhysand’s Inner Circle tended to let themselves in, as though this were their home as much as Rhys and Feyre’s, but it was different with Nesta. It had always been different with Nesta, like she had always been some kind of stranger to them, never so much at ease as the rest. 

But she was here for Elain.

Nesta allowed that thought to steel her, even though her throat closed as her fingers stretched towards that knocker. Finally she made herself lift it, letting it fall back against the brass plate with a loud, dull thud.

The laughter beyond that painted door quieted.

Not only had Feyre organised Elain’s party, she’d also organised a dinner the night before— a small, intimate gathering before the bigger party tomorrow. Nesta knew with certainty that she’d find all of Rhysand’s closest inside, all of those who had judged her harshest, and as she waited on that elaborate front step, she could only imagine why the room beyond the door had turned still. 

It was like Solstice Eve all over again, when they hadn’t wanted her there, not really, and she’d stepped into a room so thick with tension it had been almost unbearable. And what if Feyre hadn’t really expected her to accept this invitation? What if she’d only asked as a courtesy, and now that she was here and couldn’t turn back, what if Nesta walked into that room and was met with falling smiles and downturned eyes, just as she had last time? What if this was the wrong decision, and she wasn’t ready to be back in Velaris at all? What if the home she’d been searching for all these years was just a myth, a dream she’d never be able to hold in her own hands?

She had just about convinced herself to turn back around when the lock clicked open.

The door was pulled open, and suddenly Feyre was standing there, colour in her cheeks and a glint in her eyes, her parted lips splitting to reveal a wide, bright smile that was a world away from the welcome Nesta had received that fateful Solstice night. 

She had expected an awkward and stilted hello, but instead…

Instead Feyre lurched forwards, gripping her by the shoulders and pulling her into a fierce hug as she said, almost breathless, “I’m so glad you came.”

There was some kind of silent apology contained within that hug, some semblance of regret and understanding, and it took Nesta a moment - one where she did nothing but blink in surprise - but eventually she gathered herself enough to cross an arm across Feyre’s back, returning the embrace she hadn’t expected. 

“I…” Feyre pulled back, her smile turning soft as she glanced over her shoulder to the hallway behind her and the sitting room beyond. “I didn’t tell anybody you were coming just in case you changed your mind, but…” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she repeated.

Nesta offered her a weak smile, and didn’t look up to the stairs, to the portraits lining the walls. She didn’t want to know yet— didn’t want to see if her sister had missed her at all.

Instead she followed silently as Feyre ushered her inside, letting her sister take her suitcase and place it at the foot of the stairs. It wasn’t lost on Nesta that everything seemed to still the moment that Feyre led her through the sitting room door— that the conversation died, a hush settling over the room that was broken only by a glass being placed down on a table a little too hard.

She almost winced, and for an agonising moment time seemed to slow, but then Elain was rushing her, a high-pitched gasp slipping from her painted-pink lips as she hurtled forwards in a whisper of silk and rose-scented perfume. She grabbed hold of both of Nesta’s hands and pulled away just enough to take her sister in, holding her at arms length to study her from head to toe. When she spoke, her words were hurried, her tongue tripping over itself as her eyes danced. 

“Nesta— I didn’t know you were coming, nobody said anything and— oh, I can’t believe you’re here! You look well— are you well? Truly? You said you were in your letters, and Lucien said you seemed it, but still—”

“Let her breathe, Elain.”

Her sister stopped to take a breath as Lucien placed a hand on her shoulder, a gentle smile curving his lips as Elain lifted a hand to cover her mouth, fingers curling against her lips. Nesta smiled— at the casual intimacy, the affection, the way Lucien’s russet eye sparked as his hand lingered over the fabric of Elain’s dress. 

In his other hand, he held a cut-crystal wine glass, refracting the light and making it dance across his bronzed skin. With a single raised brow, he held it out and pressed it into Nesta’s waiting fingers. 

“It’s not as good as that bar downtown,” he whispered conspiratorially. “But we’ll take what we can get.”

He winked, his golden eye shining in the late afternoon sun, the honeyed light that spilled in through the wide windows. Nesta gave him a small smile. Sometimes she ran into him in a small wine bar in downtown Vallahan, when he was in her city on business. Sometimes, they shared a drink together.

Sometimes they shared several.

He pressed a kiss to Elain’s hair now, bringing a flush to her sister’s cheeks as she swatted at the hand he still had resting on her shoulder. Nesta’s heart twisted. At least Elain was happy, she mused as she sipped her wine, tasting the richness on her tongue, the smoothness of the vintage, and willing it to serve as some kind of distraction. And would anybody have guessed, she thought dryly, that it would be Elain and Lucien to work things out first? To find happiness in one another against all odds, whilst Nesta and Cassian were…

Well.

There was no Nesta and Cassian.

Not anymore.

With Elain and Lucien at her side, Azriel was the next to offer her a soft hello, Nesta. His scarred hand patted her once on the shoulder, and though his face was expressionless, those shadows of his twined about his neck, and the look he gave her said he recognised the falsity of her facade and saw through it as easily as anything. But he said nothing, merely slipped past her as Rhys gave her brisk nod and a tight smile, as if he was at least trying to be civil. Feyre’s doing, Nesta suspected. And perhaps the distance had done them all some good, she thought wryly, because soon Amren was approaching her with a glint in her eye, slender fingers toying with a sapphire as large as duck egg hanging from a chain at her neck. Her raven-dark hair shone as she tilted her head, and when she said, it’s good to have you back, Nesta half thought her words were genuine. Even Mor made some degree of effort, her bracelets clinking as she too rose to greet her.

But he was the last.

Cassian.

She hadn’t let herself so much as think his name for the past three years, hadn’t let her mind stray so far, and there was no escaping it now, no escaping him, or the way her chest suddenly felt unbearably tight, like it was bursting with all the things she did and did not want to say, all of the things she’d regretted in the time they’d been apart. She had needed to leave— for her own good, she had needed to walk away three years ago. But gods, it had broken her— had taken her away from something that could have been beautiful. 

She blinked as he rose from his chair, pretending not to notice the way her sisters suddenly found somewhere else to be— Elain tugging on Lucien’s hand and whispering something about fetching another bottle of wine from the kitchen, and Feyre clearing her throat and saying she’d better take Nesta’s things upstairs to her room. All of it faded into insignificance as she felt the press of his gaze on her skin, his lips parting in something like surprise— something like agony. 

She’d had the entire journey across the sea to think of what she was going to say when she saw him again, and still she came up empty. The words in her throat dried up, slipped through her fingers like mist, and standing there entirely alone as he approached…

It was a harsher kind of torture than anything even Azriel could inflict. 

And gods— he hadn’t changed. He was still Cassian, with hair a mess of waves falling to his shoulders, his left ear still pierced with a single garnet. His hazel eyes were still that depthless swell of gold and green and brown, and when he stepped closer, his familiar scent engulfed her, soothing in a way it had no right to be.

Her mouth went dry, and this— this was the reason her life on the continent always felt just a shade shy of complete. It didn’t matter who she took to bed or how many fine things she owned. Nothing mattered, because nobody else had ever looked at her the way he had.

Unbidden her mind went right back to that battlefield. She hadn’t thought of it in years - actively tried hard to avoid thinking of it most days - but there she was, dragged right back again as those eyes widened, dark eyelashes framing a hazel that was fraught with the same kind of pain they’d held when he lay dying beneath her, her hands trying to staunch his bleeding as he promised to find her in the next life. Her heart lurched and something like regret swarmed thick in her gut. Not regret for leaving but rather… regret for what could have been. A grief for the love Nesta had almost touched, the devotion she’d brushed with her fingertips just before it had slipped from her hands.

Cassian cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair, making his messy strands even messier. Nesta’s heart thumped once in her chest, and even though she cursed the damn thing, she didn’t move away, didn’t turn from him.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” he began at last, his voice hoarse. 

Nesta shrugged. Swallowed. “I’m here for Elain.”

His eyes shuttered. “Of course you are.”

Because she couldn’t be here for him. She wouldn’t go down that road again. Couldn’t. 

Stay, he’d asked, as the salt-air breeze carried off the sea shifted his dark hair across his forehead, as that same garnet earring winked in the sunlight. He’d held out a hand, then. Fingers outstretched, a silent plea.

I can’t, she’d answered, and the guilt had almost destroyed her, had broken her heart so thoroughly there could never be any hope of making it whole again. She had wanted to stay— more than anything she had wanted to stay, but there had been no place for her here back then, and nothing but grief and sorrow waiting for her. 

“Well then,” Cassian said briskly now, drawing back an inch. It was over— the conversation, whatever had lingered between them. It was over, dead and buried and beyond repair, and though Nesta hadn’t expected him to welcome her warmly… something inside her wilted, withered, when he refused to meet her eyes. “I suppose it’s nice to see you again, Nesta.”

Nesta.

His voice was flat— detached, like he couldn’t wait for this to be over, and gods— he’d never called her Nesta. It was always Nes, or sweetheart, or princess. It hurt. More than it should and more than she expected, and the cracks in her heart she’d papered over suddenly felt like deathless chasms, too wide to bridge and too deep to fill. 

And maybe she should have opened her mouth— maybe she should have begged him to understand. Maybe she should have raged, screamed, asked him why he thought she’d left in the first place. But her mind was blank, and before she could so much as ask how he’d been, Elain was reappearing, bottle in hand and smile on her face.

Cassian took another step back, his face as empty and as cold as the space in Nesta’s chest, and she could do nothing but let herself be dragged over to the sofa by the windows, so far away from the warrior who turned and clung to the shadows now, as if hoping they might hide him, might save him. Azriel handed Cassian another drink, one he knocked back as his fingers gripped the glass so tight his knuckles were white, and still Nesta said nothing, forcing herself to focus on Elain’s excited chatter as she lowered herself to the cushions. When Lucien joined them, she spoke at length about her life on the continent, about her apartment and her work, infusing her voice with a joviality she didn’t feel, an optimism that escaped her, and a lack of regret that was so false it made her throat feel tight.

And all the while she ignored the pulling in her chest that begged her to turn around, that pleaded with her to find the warrior on the other side of the room.

Because if the look on his face had made anything clear as they spoke, it was that Cassian did not want Nesta to find him. Not now— not ever again. 

***

She managed to ignore him throughout dinner.

Feyre had placed her at the other end of the expansive mahogany table, between her and Elain, like it might shield her somehow. Or shield him, she wasn’t sure. Either way, Lucien sat across from her, and over a candlelit meal of roasted chicken, Nesta kept her attention far from that other end, never daring to so much as turn her head more than an inch to the side. And it might have worked, might have helped her forget just a little bit of the anguish still swarming in her gut, had it not been all too easy— had there been anything but silence from the seat he’d taken.

He was quiet, subdued, and even though Nesta had spent the entire journey across the sea dreading the sound of his booming laugh, she found its absence to be a pain all of its own.

Because she was the reason he didn’t laugh— the reason he’d switched to whiskey from wine and drank deeply from his glass, like mixing his spirits might help, somehow. 

And when dinner was over and they returned once more to the large sitting room at the front of the house, Rhys pulled out another expensive bottle of wine and uncorked it. But with so many people inside the air grew quickly stuffy, and she wanted nothing more than fresh air. So she made her excuses and got to her feet, murmuring a quick I’ll be right back to Elain as she slipped through the doorway and headed for the back door in the kitchen.

But stepping outside, Nesta found Cassian already standing half in darkness, right beside her sister’s wrought-iron patio set, as though he was too restless, too agitated to sit. There was a fresh glass in his hand as he looked out towards the river, and his face was lined with something like grief, the moonlight drifting across his thinly pressed lips, and he didn’t turn to look at her. Like he couldn’t bear it. 

Nesta stilled, the silence growing thick, awkward.

“I’ll leave you—” she began, at the same time as he said, 

“I’ll go—”

The words died, leaving behind a thick silence, stretching between them uncomfortable and unwieldy. Never before had she been speechless around him, but now…

What was there to say?

She lingered for a moment before turning on her heel. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said again, finishing her sentence this time. She cleared her throat, taking a deep breath of the cool night air, biting her lip as she faced the house, the windows glowing with the warm, golden faelight from inside.

She heard the sigh Cassian let loose, felt in it every piece of his agony. He didn’t answer, didn’t say a word, and yet even though Nesta turned back to the house, her steps were slow— like some part of her was wondering if he would stop her.

Her hand had just closed around the door handle when he spoke. 

“Did you—” He started, running a hand through his hair. “Did you find someone?”

His voice was strained, almost cracking, and even in the darkness Nesta could see that he gripped his glass so tightly it was a wonder it didn’t break beneath his fingers. He didn’t look at her, kept his eyes forward, out to where the moon gilded the river silver.

After a minute Nesta shook her head. “No.”

The silence stretched, and she found herself stepping forward, taking in the cut of his jaw, the way it was clenched tight, as if he’d been hoping her answer would mean something.

“Did you?” she asked.

Cassian let out a bitter laugh.

“No, sweetheart.”

The old nickname fell from his lips easily, but it wasn’t the same as before. Years ago, it had been said with a kind of teasing, a kind of flirting that always accompanied a glint in his hazel eyes, but this…

This was almost mournful.

“Not after you,” he added a moment later. He looked at her, and maybe it was the wine she’d had, or the whiskey he was drinking, but he swallowed and Nesta could swear that she saw him steel himself. “How could there ever be anybody after you?”

“We weren’t anything,” Nesta said, but her heart thumped against her ribcage and she knew that her words were false.

Cassian only shrugged. “We never got a chance.”

She might have asked him whose fault he thought that was— demanded of him why he thought she’d left in the first place. After all, he’d pulled away from her long before she boarded that boat. He’d been the one to wrench his wrist from her grip during the war, the one to gift another woman lingerie at Solstice. But in three years she’d never quite managed to silence that small, small voice in the back of her mind, the one that whispered, quiet in the dark, what if? 

What if she had stayed? What if he had taken her hand that day during the war, what if he’d stayed by her side on Solstice? 

What if?

Nesta looked down at her hands now and somehow found the strength to ask, almost hesitantly, “And if we did?”

“If we did what?”

“Got a chance?”

Cassian shook his head ruefully. “Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve, Nes. What’s the point in going over all this again?”

His voice was low, pained. Grief shone in those hazel eyes, heartbreak written all over that beautiful face. Nesta had forced herself to forget, over the past three years, the way he’d looked when she boarded that ship for the continent. She’d refused to remember the way he’d begged her to stay.

Is training with me such a terrible option? he’d asked, his hand fisting over his heart as his eyes widened, begging her to reconsider. Is it so awful that you’d walk away from me— from us?

There is no us, she’d said, and her voice had been cold because it had needed to be. Her back had been straight and her shoulders back because she’d needed to get on that ship, needed to spend some time away.

It had never been that training with Cassian was the problem with the options Rhysand had given her. It was that he’d dared to give her options at all, to think he had a right to interfere.

And— her heart had broken because how could Cassian not see it? He’d chosen Rhys over her the moment he’d expected her to bend to Rhys’ demands, the moment he’d stayed his tongue and let Rhys lecture her like she was some kind of… delinquent. Cassian had fetched her from her apartment to the River House, knowing all along the ultimatum she was to receive, and as Rhys had laid out her options - as if the choice was anything more than illusory - her heart had cracked because Cassian hadn’t said a word in her defence.

She’d been angry— heartbroken and angry, and that day at the docks…

There is no us.

No lie haunted her like that one.

Cassian sighed now, tipping his head back. He drained the last of his whiskey and set the glass down on the table, eyes sliding to her slowly, as if he were afraid to look at her for too long, afraid she’d melt away into the darkness, like she’d never been here at all. 

“I don’t know,” Nesta whispered at last, shaking her head. “I don’t know why I even…”

“What?” Cassian said sharply. “Why you came back? Or why you came out here?”

Weary, she sighed. “What do you want from me, Cassian?”

“Nothing,” he countered, but she didn’t think she imagined the bitterness in his voice. “I never wanted anything from you, Nes.”

I have no regrets in my life but this— that we did not have time.

Her words tuned to ash in her mouth, and Nesta felt her heart breaking all over again, the wound she’d thought years healed suddenly rupturing, tearing back open with the kind of brutal force that once had her seeking solace at the bottom of a bottle.

“I couldn’t stay,” she whispered. “You know I couldn’t stay.”

She expected him to argue, to fight back, but Cassian… 

He dipped his head, lips tugging downwards. Sorrow limned his face, the same kind of heartbreak that ravaged her own chest playing out on every beautiful plane of him, every line of him she’d tried so hard to forget these past three years.

“Tell me you’re happy,” he murmured. “Give me that, at least.”

“Does it matter?” she countered, because despite how much she so desperately wanted to tell him that yes, yes, she was happy… she couldn’t make herself speak the words, couldn’t lie to him now, because as much as she liked her life on the continent, there was too much missing for her to truly feel… happy.

He turned to face her fully now, his eyes seeming to burn beneath the starlight. “Of course it matters. It’s all that I ever—“ He hissed, cutting himself off. He shook his head, and found the strength to finish, “It’s all that I ever wanted.”

Nesta looked out to the river. Thought of her apartment, overlooking a different river, in a different city.

“I have a fancy apartment now,” she said softly. “Right over the river in Vallahan. You’d…” She faltered, but when she looked at his face, the eyes that hadn’t yet left hers, she continued, “I think you’d like it. It’s better than my last one.”

He huffed a sardonic sort of laugh, blinking slowly.

“I have a cat too,” she added.

“A cat?” he asked, eyebrows rising.

“Mhm.” She smiled a little. “I called him Tristan.” She swallowed again. “Maybe you could…”

She fell into silence, and Cassian’s brows furrowed. 

“Maybe I could what?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Nesta said, shaking her head. Stupid— stupid to think it, to even suggest it—

Cassian stepped closer, raw emotion on his face that Nesta didn’t dare name. It looked… it looked like hope, and damn if that didn’t break her heart all over again. He shook his head again.

“No,” he whispered. “Tell me. Maybe I could what?”

“Maybe you could come visit sometime,” Nesta said, in a voice so low she could barely hear it herself. She didn’t miss the hiss of breath that slipped through Cassian’s teeth though. Didn’t miss the way he stilled.

“I’m surprised you’d want me to,” he countered.

“I always wanted you to,” Nesta said, letting her eyes drift closed for just a moment. “I always… wanted you.”

Maybe it was the time away. Maybe it was the distance she’d had for so long. She didn’t know what it was, but it was easier, somehow, to speak honestly to him now. Maybe it was the space she’d needed to deal with her pain, the time she’d needed to grieve and to heal. It felt easier now, to tell him what she wanted. Far easier than it had been that day on the docks three years ago.

Slowly, Cassian lifted a hand. He brushed his knuckles across the back of her cheek, a slow, fragile smile curving the corners of his lips. It was the first time he’d touched her in three years and— oh fucking gods, how she had missed that gentle brush of his hand across her cheekbone. 

“I’d drop everything to come see you,” he said gently. Quietly. “Just tell me when.”

Nesta turned her face into his palm, her lips brushing the top of his wrist. Her eyes had snapped to his this moment he’d reached for her, their gazes locked, and she was unable to look away now, to see anything but him. 

“I’d like that.”

Her eyes searched his— looking for something, some answer she’d been seeking all this time, and though neither of them moved, neither said a word, volumes were spoken with the way neither took a step back. Cassian’s beautiful face looked like he’d shatter if she so much as turned her face away, and Nesta felt her heart steady in her chest as that hollow place inside her suddenly began to warm, to feel less like a void and more like a place where comfort might be harboured.

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly feeling dry, and Cassian tracked the movement, his gaze breaking, dipping to her throat as it bobbed.

“I’m so sorry, Nes,” he said, so softly it was like he was afraid his voice would break. His hand fell away from her face, and Nesta suddenly felt cold. “For all of it. The moment you got on that godsdamned ship I knew that I should have done more—  that I should never have let Rhys order you about like that and—“

She stopped him with a palm of her own against his cheek. “I forgave you a long time ago,” she murmured.

His eyes slid closed, and she might have whispered his name, or he might have whispered hers, but without thinking her thumb brushed across his cheekbone, her palm lying flat on his cheek, and his eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he turned his face into her palm the way she had just done with his. 

“I missed you,” he whispered, like it was a confession— like something he’d kept inside for so long that it hurt, now, to let it out. “More than anything, I missed you. So much I—”

He cut himself off, lowering his brow until it was barely an inch from hers, but Nesta shook her head, dared to raise his face to hers. “What?”

His eyes opened, burning. “So much I almost went to the continent myself to beg you to come back— to come back to me.”

She didn’t say anything. What was there to say? That there had been nights where she’d dreamed of him doing just that? That every morning she woke and hoped she’d find him waiting at her door? That even now, every time she walked by the docks in Vallahan she scanned the boats coming into port, just in case he’d be stepping off the deck of one of them? She couldn’t find the words, and as his breath whispered across the skin at her wrist, she shivered. Every single nerve in her body felt alive then, more than it had in three entire years.

“I missed you too,” she confessed.

Cassian dared to lower his chin, to press a kiss to the soft skin of her palm— then another to her wrist, his hand rising until it covered hers, his warmth sinking into her bones as he kept her touch pressed to his cheek, like he couldn’t bear the thought of her pulling away just yet. As his fingers slipped through the gaps between her knuckles, he let out a rueful laugh.

“Why are we doing this, princess?”

“Doing what?” she asked, trying not to think of how his lips brushed the heel of her hand when he spoke.

“Dancing around it,” he said, letting her hand drop and pulling away just enough to look her in the eyes. She mourned the loss of that touch, but not for long— his hand slid to her waist, his palm settling at the curve of her ribs. “Ignoring the fact that the past three years have been hell for the both of us.”

“I didn’t say it had been hell,” Nesta muttered tartly, and Cassian let out a bitter huff of a laugh as his hand rounded her waist, falling to the small of her back as he pulled her that last inch closer.

No, it hadn’t been hell. Not for the most part. And yet…

With his other hand Cassian traced her jaw, moving over her cheekbone and up to the curve of her ear, where he tucked back an errant piece of hair that had escaped her braid. His touch was soft— slow and reverential, but his hand fisted in her dress at her back. She braced her palm on his chest and he dipped his head, bringing his brow to rest, at last, against hers.

“I’m not letting you go this time,” he murmured. “Not without a fight.”

Her heart skipped— stumbled, and it suddenly felt like there was no air in this entire city, like she couldn’t breathe at all. It was all she’d ever wanted, she supposed. For him to fight for her the way he’d promised he would on that battlefield. 

She smiled as his nose nudged against her cheek, her palm sliding across his chest, feeling the muscles covered by that thin shirt that did nothing to hide the definition beneath. Gods, how had she walked away from this— from him? How had she survived without this, the feel of him beneath her hands, of his warmth encompassing her as he held her so close to his chest that she wasn’t sure where she began and he ended? 

Wandering, her fingers traced a path over his collarbone until her arm wrapped around his neck, her fingertips just barely brushing the edges of his wings. He hissed, both hands resting on her waist now, gripping her tight.

And there was nothing left to say - she couldn’t make her mind form sentences anyway - so Nesta tilted her head back, and when Cassian opened his eyes… 

She was left stunned, for a minute, by the raw emotion in the hazel, the way he looked at her like he saw every part and piece of her and wanted it all. He looked like he was holding himself back and Nesta…

Nesta didn’t want that at all.

So she rose onto her tiptoes and hauled his face to hers, crashing into him like a wave breaking against the shore. His lips met hers, rose to the silent challenge she issued, and gods, his kiss wasn’t soft or gentle— it was three whole years of longing and missed opportunity. It was everything she’d ever lost, every piece of him she’d given up, contained in the swell of his lips against hers— every time she’d stopped herself before she could remember the sound of his laugh or the way he called her sweetheart, every time she woke from dreaming with his name dancing on her tongue, like she wanted nothing more than to speak it aloud. Every ounce of anguish and every kernel of heartache was healed by that kiss, by the way he claimed her so thoroughly she wondered if his name had been scarred across her heart all this time.

He moved against her, so perfectly in sync it was like he was made for her. His hands stroked her waist, brushed her ribs, and as her hands delved into his hair, she felt every inch of him flush against every inch of her, and oh gods— the taste of him eclipsed anything and everything she’d ever known.

She’d had lovers over the past three years but none of them— none of them compared to this, to him, to the way his hands skated across her middle, down to her hips to bring her closer, eliminating any remaining space between them as his thigh pressed against hers, as his hands roamed, as she tasted him on her tongue, all lips and teeth and heat, precious, precious heat, warming that hollow space inside she’d felt for so long.

She might have moaned into him, might have let herself lean into his touch and melt in his arms— he might have moaned her name too, whispered it as he crashed against her, but she could barely hear, barely think, barely knew anything beyond what he was doing to her.

Only when her chest grew tight from the lack of air did she pull away, and even then— she twisted her head to the side, her cheek pressed against his lips as she drew air into her lungs, her chest heaving.

He’d stolen everything, every breath she’d had, and she clawed them back now, trying desperately to bring herself back from the edge of the brink—

But she looked at him, and those hazel eyes had her falling all over again, reaching back and framing his face with her hands, pressing her palms into his cheeks as she brought him back to her for another soul-searing kiss.

Gods— there was nothing sweeter than this, than him, than the way he breathed her name as he backed her up against the wall.

With a thumb beneath her chin he tilted her head back, deepening the kiss until Nesta wasn’t sure which way was up. Distantly she was aware of her hands falling from his face and landing on his shoulders, scrabbling at the fabric of his shirt as she all but clawed at him, so desperate for every last inch of him, like she’d been starving for three whole years. 

Cassian was a warm weight against her, moving a hand to the small of her back to keep her from pressing uncomfortably into the brickwork, and just that - that small, simple gesture - had her heart squeezing in her chest to the point of pain because…

She loved him. 

Oh gods, she loved him.

It was what she’d been running from ever since that day on the docks, what she’d known the moment she’d left, and all the time she’d been away hadn’t changed a thing. Hadn’t dulled the spark he’d ignited, the one that couldn’t be extinguished, no matter how hard she tried. 

Three years— and it hadn’t changed a thing.

He was still the only one that made her feel like her head was over her heels.

He was home— she knew that, felt it when he took her into his arms at last. He was everything she’d been missing, everything she’d been chasing. It was right here, all along, and no wonder she’d never found it on the Continent, no wonder there had always been an empty space in her chest, right where her heart should be. He’d held it all along, all this time.

Still, Cassian wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her as though he was afraid that if he let her go, she’d leave again.

But Nesta wasn’t going anywhere— not this time. She’d figure things out— find a way to keep her apartment on the Continent, to keep the parts of her life that had healed those deep, deep wounds she’d been dealt by the Cauldron and the war and everything else that had sent her running from these shores three years ago.

She’d do whatever it took, because she didn’t think she could go back to being without him— without this.

Breathing hard, she tangled her fingers in Cassian’s shirt, pushing closer and rising on her tiptoes so the crown of her head nudged his chin. Oh, he reminded her of magic— of all the stories she’d wanted to be true when she was a girl. Of knights and princesses and wondrous, marvellous beauty. Of a love so great the world turned vapid in its wake, one that redefined the heavens and stars above and made life itself worth living. She’d forgotten what it felt like when he held her, forgotten what his touch did to her, but beneath that Night Court sky, suddenly she remembered. And…

Home.

In his arms, she found home at last. 

So as the moon shone silver on the river and laughter echoed from inside the house, Nesta let Cassian kiss her again, let herself be lost in every inch of him. And when he tilted her chin up towards the sky, Nesta looked into those hazel eyes and let him remind her what it was to be loved, to be held, to be cherished— 

To be home.

#nessianweek2023 #nessian

[neuronary]

concept: steddie florist/tattoo artist au with a side of no upside down

obviously eddie is the tattoo artist and steve is the florist. he and robin started working at the local florist after family video finally shut down (admittedly it made literally no money the entire time they worked there) and third time lucky, because it finally stuck. when the old lady that owned the florist died with no family to speak of, she left the two of them the shop and the apartment above it.

 robin never ended up going to college, despite having the equivelent of a linguistics degree in knowledge anyway, which was always a contentious issue between steve and robin. (she doesn't give a flying fuck how much he believed in her; she was barely scraping 'B's throughout her high school career and college was never in the cards for her.) so they stuck around in hawkins. they watched the kids graduate (and endured a ridiculous amount of teasing from said kids over the whole florist thing), they grew up into proper grown ups who did taxes, and they grew an enormous garden in the mean time.

and then 1993 rolls around and a tattoo parlour opens up down the street. which. huh. sure. not something either of them would have expected, but hawkins has gained a pretty significant goth tourist population given the whole 'cursed' thing ("it's not exploitative if the 'creepy' pressed flower frames are profiting off of our own trauma, dingus") so maybe it'll work out for the guy, who knows. and then steve bumps into said guy while doing the daily sandwich run and robin did not warn him that he was hot. which is because robin is a little bit preoccupied with the fact that her second (and least embarrassing) high school crush, chrissy cunningham, is back in town following the death of her mother, and has somehow become even more of a fucking smokeshow and did steve see that violets pin on her jacket does that mean what robin thinks it means holy shit steve holy shit. and cue them both being gay disasters.

chrissy hightailed it out of hawkins the second she graduated, which everyone assumed was because of the whole creel debacle. whilst she still keeps in contact with the other victims (patrick sends her letters from his apartment in chicago, max calls from california every so often, fred, may he rest in peace, occupies her nightmares), she avoids any mention of hawkins like the plague. people will stare no matter where she is, wondering about what could have happened to leave her looking the way she does. but chrissy has always been a smiler, and that goes a long way to making friends in a big city. new york started out lonely and expensive but she slowly, painstakingly found her people in the greenwich village. in 1993, after seven years of screening her calls and refusing to speak to her mother, the call finally comes. she’s dead. it’s really over. now she just has to plan a funeral and figure out how to feel about that. she always thought she’d have more time but the cards didn’t fall that way.

eddie needed to get out and start his own shop, after finally feeling like he actually knew what he was doing and, well. his uncle wayne is getting on in years, and disgraced queers have to stick together right? so eddie packs up his kit and his guitar and he moves back to hawkins. (he does not think fondly of his three year stint in high school there, fucking off to indy to start a band when he flunked senior year.) he sinks all his savings into a storefront on main street and sleeps in the back office because who’s gonna kick him out, exactly? and then it starts going... better than he expected, actually. there’s this gang of college twerps home for the summer that all want matching fucking demogorgons of all things, and the fiery redhead girl wants the hand and eye of vecna for god knows what reason. there is also, as he predicted, a steady flow of vacationing goths, conspiracy theorists, and true crime enthusiasts that want souvenirs inked into their skin. so eddie makes good money. at least that’s a balm for the undying shame and indignation he has over crushing on steve fucking harrington, king of the douchebags from hawkins high, now a stupid twunk-y florist with an easy smile and a thin, almost unnoticeable scar running across his stupid kissable lips.

it’s fine, eddie and steve both complain to their respective agony aunts. wayne grunts and goes back to sleep. robin invites chrissy up for some homegrown weed to take the edge off of the funeral prep.

#steddie #buckingham #stranger things

[cloudbersoo]

romance tropes｜zb1

synopsis: zb1 members as different romance tropes !

tags: member x gn!reader, fluff, suggestive (only jiwoong and taerae), mostly just cute shit!, hao's one is a little morally questionable, gunwook is only one year younger than yn, not proofread

word count: 725 in total

a/n: helloo. i came up with these last night. i tried to use different tropes than what others have done to keep it interesting! don't date your friends' exes, okay bye.

my playlist while writing: polaris by chen!! it's so so good

kim jiwoong as the rebound

you and your ex broke up about three weeks ago

few of your friends had convinced you to go clubbing with them so you could forget about your ex

that’s when you met jiwoong 

the two of you clicked well and eventually one thing led to another… 

he could tell you still had someone else in your heart but he assured you he didn’t mind as he kissed you

you still wished jiwoong could someday be more than just a rebound…

zhang hao as the best friend’s ex

everyone knows friends’ exes are off limits

but the way zhang hao’s eyes were following your every move was making you feel some type of way

even in a packed up party, it felt like it was just the two of you in the room

you longed for him and he must have felt the same way about you

sometimes you wondered if you had anything to do with your friend’s break up

and how mad she will be if you were to leave the party with hao tonight…

sung hanbin as the sibling’s babysitter

your practice was cut short and you were able to go home much earlier than usual

what you didn’t realize was that hanbin would still be at your house babysitting your little sister

hanbin might have been the nicest and prettiest person you’ve ever met

but sadly you never really got the opportunity to get to know him

maybe tonight that could change as you tucked your sister to bed…

seok matthew as the brother’s best friend

going to a ski lodge during the winter break has been one of your family’s traditions for a long time

your parents had always let you to bring a friend to the trip, but this year none of yours could make it

so you had found yourself hanging out with your brother’s best friend matthew a lot

one fateful night that involved hot choco and few sweet kisses seemed to change everything

but what happens at the ski lodge stays at the ski lodge, right?

kim taerae as the best friend you hooked up with

you and taerae had basically grown up together

you’ve experienced many things together over the years but you never thought you’d ever wake up in his arms without any clothes on

the events of the previous night were coming back to your mind

after many shots of alcohol and a make out session on the back seat of a taxi, you two had ended in taerae’s apartment – into his bed

was this the start of something new or just a drunken mistake?

shen ricky as the city boy in your small town

you’ve grown up in a small town where everyone knows everyone

so it wasn’t hard for you to notice the young man amongst the familiar faces

he seemed lost and out of place with his clean white button up and expensive black sunglasses

you soon found out the man's name was ricky and he was the grandson of one of your neighbours

to say you were intrigued was an understatement 

maybe this handsome stranger could be your next summer love?

kim gyuvin as the flirty customer at your coffee shop

working as a barista was pretty exhausting

but there was at least something or rather someone that made your work a little more fun

a boy by the name of gyuvin came to your coffee shop almost daily and it was always the highlight of your day (but don’t tell him that)

he’d come in with his friends to study but would spend majority of his time staring at you

“anything else with your drink?” “maybe your number?”

you might as well give it to him one day…

park gunwook as the best friend’s (little) brother

you’ve always thought that you only liked gunwook in a little brother type of way

but ever since you both entered high school, you couldn’t help but to look at him differently

he had grown up nice, quite literally as he now towered over you

one day you found a love letter in your locker that was signed by him

your best friend only teased you about the blush that had creeped into your cheeks

you’ll take it as a sign that you had your best friend's approval…

- end

#zerobaseone #zb1 #zb1 jiwoong #zerobaseone jiwoong #kim jiwoong #kim jiwoong x reader #kim jiwoong fic #zb1 zhang hao #zerobaseone zhang hao #zhang hao #zhanghao #zhang hao fic #zhang hao x reader #zb1 hanbin #zerobaseone hanbin #sung hanbin #sung hanbin x reader #sung hanbin fic #zb1 matthew #zerobaseone matthew #seok matthew #seok matthew x reader #seok matthew fic #zb1 taerae #zerobaseone taerae #kim taerae #kim taerae x reader #kim taerae fic #zb1 ricky #zerobaseone ricky

[ouroborus-momento-mori]

Authors note - wow! I’m so blown away by the interest in my fic. This is my first attempt at fan fiction and a reader insert so please be gentle. It’s starting off a little slow but I really had to build where the reader is at in her life before we can really dive in. It’ll pick up in the next chapter which should be out before Sunday. Feedback is appreciated. Enjoy!

Corresponding Spotify: Destination Unknown

Link to AO3: Destination Unknown

Word count: 3,865

Find Chapter two - here.

Destination Unknown

Chapter One - The Long Drive

***

In your defence, you never meant to stay on the East Coast for this long. It started with you wanting to make a name for yourself, to get out from underneath your father’s shadow.

Almost a decade ago you moved out to Washington D.C. to start your university education at Georgetown University. One Bachelor of Arts degree and a Masters of Museum Studies later, you had earned your current position as Assistant Curator for Contemporary Military Aviation History at the Smithsonian’s Air and Space Museum.

You had a little help along the way with your father being an Admiral, but most people in this city had at least a little nepotism to help get them where they are.

You had certainly worked for it too, sacrificing countless nights out on the town, friendships, hell even your last relationship or two. All because you were addicted to the drive to do better. Be better. To work with the best. To be the best. To have people know you because of what you’ve accomplished on your own.

Not because of the last name that was gifted to you in your very first hours of existing.

Kazansky.

Your whole life you’ve had to bear the heavy weight of your name, and all the expectations and assumptions that came with it. It was both a blessing and a grievance. You loved your family dearly, but with the weight of your fathers rank and reputation you had grown up feeling smothered by it.

Your whole adolescent life you had felt pressure to enlist and rise through the ranks like your father. Your whole life you had dozens of people reminding you of how alike the two of you were. But that wasn’t what you wanted. It had nearly torn you apart in your senior year, having applied to civilian universities and the Naval Academy with your childhood best friend Bradley.

Ultimately you chose to move across the country to study as a civilian. Washington D.C. was safe enough as it allowed for plenty of visits with your parents when your father was sent for meetings at the nearby Pentagon or the White House. It also allowed for your father to keep close tabs on you, having plenty of connections in the city.

It hurt beyond belief at first to be so far away. But it got better with time. Over the past decade you have successfully built yourself a life of your own. Now at 29 you had an outstanding career, several publications and accreditations to your name, a well loved (albeit small and very expensive) apartment, and a fluffy black cat by the name of Merlin.

A loud sound interrupted your train of thought.

It was like your heart was ripped out of your chest when you heard your phone ringing, the blaring of “Sweet Child O’ Mine” signalling that it was your mother calling. You had been pacing your apartment all morning waiting for this. With a deep soothing breath, you picked up the phone.

“Mom?”

You heard a watery sob. “Oh honey. It’s even worse than we thought.”

You struggled to hold back tears. “How long do they think we have left with him?”

“Dr. Thompson says six months at best.” She inhaled another breath, you could hear her trying to hold back her cries. “Your father and I had a talk last night. We really want you home sometime soon. Now preferably. We just want to hold you again, have a few months with the family all together again. You think you’ll be able to make it?”

You had known this was coming for a while now. This past Christmas your father had started to show some signs of his failing health. Coughing up blood. Trying to hide it. Blaming his hoarse throat on all the talking he does. Or that it was a simple head cold. After urging him to get tests done, you had to pack up and leave sunny California for the East Coast once again.

When you had returned in January you submitted an exhibition proposal to your Director, centering around wanting to tell the unheard stories of contemporary elite naval aviators and their amazing accomplishments. You mainly wanted something that would allow you to move back to the west coast for several months, so you could be close to your family without having to give up your career.

With a couple months worth of check ups and tests on your fathers end, and a series of tweaking and resubmitting proposals and outlines on your end - you finally got the stamp of approval. Not only were they letting you curate your first solo exhibition, but they were also giving you a grant so you could publish a book to correspond with it.

The project would allow you to spend several months with your family. Splitting your time between the nearby naval aviators school for research in their archives and the command bases surrounding town where your family still resides.

“Yes. I’ll be home soon. I just need to get things situated. One of my colleagues will sublease my apartment while I’m gone. I’m taking Merlin with me.” You sighed into the phone, gazing across the apartment.

Merlin was lounging outstretched in the sun, absentmindedly pushing your papers around on your desk. He mewled at you when he noticed your attention. He plopped down and subsequently started pawing at the cupboard where you kept his treats.

“Oh goody… I can’t wait to meet my only grand-fur baby. He looks so soft in all those photos you send of him. I think he would really help your father too. Might soothe him, you know? I think it would do him some good. Petting Merlin and all.” She was rambling. She did this when her anxiety was flaring up.

“Mom. Will you be okay until next week? I’m going to drive home, it would be easier to pack everything into the car.”

“Yes, just get here as soon as you can, okay? I- We need you… Your father needs you here. Just come home soon. We all miss you.”

“I love you, mom. Tell dad and the boys I love them too. I’ll text you when I leave here on Friday.” You took a shuddering breath. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you too, honey. Your dad and your brothers do as well. You know that. We’ll see you soon.”

Immediately after your mother hung up you fired off a text to your two brothers, making sure they knew they could call or text you should they need any help. And to make sure they would take all the housework and cooking off your mom’s to do list. She had enough on her plate right now looking after your father.

You fired off a text to your father too, trying to express to him how much you loved him and how you were looking forward to seeing him and spending time with him.

***

You spent the next day packing everything into your old ‘69 baby blue Ford Bronco, a car you had fixed up in high school with your father, his friend (your would-be uncle, really) Pete, and your childhood friend Bradley.

You went into your office too, picking up some last minute essentials and saying farewells to your colleagues. You would be seeing a few of them in a few months when they flew out to collect the objects you’re going to be gathering for your exhibition.

Amelia, one of your best friends and colleagues, had agreed to sublease your apartment while you’re gone. She had recently broken off her engagement to her unfaithful fiancé. You gave her a more than fair price, and offered her the entire place to try to mend her broken heart.

You left a bouquet of flowers, several bottles of wine, a nice bottle of whiskey, an assortment of Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer, and your infamous collection of cheesy RomComs for her to revel with while you were away.

Looking around you tried to spot the little (large) fluff ball that lived (thought he owned) in your apartment with you.

“Pstpstpst… Merlin! Come here, you absolute rascal.” You scooped Merlin up, his black fur flying into the air. He was a massive cat, you were pretty certain he had Maine Coone genetics somewhere in him. You had named him after one of your father’s friends callsign.

Placing Merlin in his carrier and heading to your door, you took one last look around your apartment. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but this pit that resided in your stomach made you feel like this was the closing of a chapter for you. You shoved that thought away. No time to think of that now. Your family needed you.

***

You sent off a quick text to your mom, and just like that you were off on a cross country journey.

You silently thanked god your pay was decent, the sheer amount of gas you would need for this trip was stupidly astronomical.

With a few stops across the country to rest at pet friendly motels, you had finally made it to California in just under a week.

You decided to stop first at the US Navy’s Fighter Weapons School, Top Gun (as literally every naval aviator referred to it as in your youth), to drop off your research materials and hordes of guide and reference books.

Laughing gently, you couldn’t stop yourself from gazing at the school instead of the road ahead.

Holy shit, you thought. Where did the time go?

You had spent an absurd amount of time here as a kid growing up. You definitely didn’t have a normal childhood.

Pulling in, you started off loading everything you needed. Merlin started mewling from his carrier.

“You need the litter box, sweetheart? Just a moment, let mommy do this first.” You grumbled trying to haul everything you needed out. Getting frustrated with the weight of it all, you just dropped your boxes on the ground. Poor sweet little Merlin needed your attention. You hooked up his harness and his leash. Carrying him over to the surprisingly green grass next to the parking lot.

“Holy mother of god! Is that you, Kazansky?! The boss man told me you’d be making your way here again. Thought he was fibbing.”

Swirling around you had to lift your hand up to shield your eyes against the blinding sun.

“I really don’t think this is the best place to be letting your scruff-ball of a cat take a shit.” The blurry figure said.

Straining your eyes, you could just barely make out the face that was coming toward you. You could never forget that voice though, considering he was one of the pilots who practically raised you here on base.

“Solomon Bates. How’ve you been?” You couldn’t help the wide grin that stretched across your face. This was the first of many reunions you had to look forward to. Or in some (one) case, dread.

You rushed over, dragging Merlin behind you, to hug the man.

“I’ve been good, kid. Better now that you’re here. Your father has us all worried, not that you should ever tell him that. He’d whoop all our asses if he ever heard such a thing.” You both let out barking laughs. You were thankful for Warlock’s sense of humour.

“I know. Dad won’t let any of us worry over him. His pride is still just as strong as it was when he first started at this Academy, I’m sure of it.”

“Ahh you gotta give the man some credit. He didn’t get to where he is today without having a strong will and sense of who he is. His sense of pride has been well earned. You and your mother will have to use some of that charm you have, get him to rest and take it easy.”

You gave the man a small smile, “We’ll do our best, don't you worry about that.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Now,” He glared down at your cat, then swung his gaze over towards your Bronco. “I’m going to take a guess. You’re gonna need help with those boxes?”

“That would actually be amazing, Bates.” He laughed as he saw you let out a sigh, you let out a small chuckle too. It was a huge relief knowing you wouldn’t have to carry them all on your own.

You placed Merlin back in his carrier, rolling down the windows to let the wind run through the vehicle.

Bates helped you carry in the boxes leading you down the familiar halls you used to haunt as a kid.

You arrived at an all too familiar door. Your father’s old office, the one away from home and his previous office before his time at fleet command.

“You guys never gave this space to some other poor paper-pushing Admiral?” You had to admit, you were quite surprised. You used to spend time here as a kid reading or doodling. Your father would take you into work to hang out with the other naval aviators children.

The kids were almost always taken here when their fathers wanted to give their mothers a well earned break and they simultaneously needed to catch up on some paperwork or reading.

“Nah. Your dad’s always been welcome here, we never wanted him to leave in the first place. This complex has got so many rooms we figured we could leave this one be. Now it's yours for the next, what? Several months or so?”

“Give or take. Hopefully give. I don’t want to wish any time away.” You grimaced. That came out awkward. You still weren’t used to the impending, well… whatever would be coming down the line for you and your family.

“I know, kid. I know.” He nodded. “Now… time to let the old memories come alive, hey?” He flung open the door to your fathers old office and sauntered in.

You took a deep breath before following him in, your eyes scanning the room. Just like you remembered it. There was a grand oak desk to the far left with a leather executive chair at its helm. The rest of the room was occupied by dozens of photos from years long gone, grand bookshelves holding trophies, awards and books. There was also a long oval oak conference table, with several leather chairs seated. Everything was painted in dark moody tones, common to old officers clubs built during the Second World War.

When you were younger and first started getting into history and myths, you would often refer to your father as King (Admiral) Arthur and at his table would be the fabled knights (officers) of the round table.

You and Bates both dropped your boxes onto the large oval table. You would set up your work space at a later date.

You glanced at Bates as he meandered around the office to stop in front of your fathers old desk, picking up a photo that had a layer of dust. He wiped it off with his hand.

“You know… I can still remember this day like it was yesterday.” He hummed a smile, eyes twinkling at you.

You narrowed your eyes, having a sneaking suspicion at what photo he has taken up. You walked over and playfully snatched it out of his hands, glancing down at it for yourself.

Sure enough, you had guessed correctly. The photo was of a young freshman year pair, you and your old friend Bradley. You were both covered in silly string, laughing your asses off at the mess the two of you had caused.

Bates had been the man behind the camera that fateful day, and had taken glee in also capturing your frantic mother in the back of the photo. She had been desperate to clean you both up in time for the family photo, a yearly tradition the entire staff had at the weapons school here.

You smiled and took the photo over to the wall with dozens more, holding it up to the photo with dozens of figures all smiling and dressed in their Sunday best. If you looked closely enough, you could spot both you and Bradley in the front.

Both your white sundress and his white shirt had been stained from the silly string. Just above you was your father, your mother, Bradley’s mother, and your all but blood related uncle Pete “Maverick” Mitchell.

They were all holding in a laugh at how the two of you looked, dishevelled and stained, even after both your mom’s had tried desperately to clean you up for the photo. Still to this day no one had any idea where the two of you had gotten the silly string. That was a secret you and Bradley had pinky sworn to never tell. You always kept your promises.

“You two used to have so much fun together.” Bates mused, smiling to himself, his eyes glazed over in memories.

“Whatever happened to your friendship? You two ever stay in touch after you, uh, picked up and left?” You snapped out of your smile, turning your eyes to look at him.

“That, uh, came out wrong. Sorry” Bates grimaced. No shit, Warlock you thought to yourself.

“We, um, lost touch with each other.” You tried to find a way to phrase it for him. “After he found out he had been rejected from the Naval Academy, I decided to forge my own path. The civilian route. So… I moved to Washington.”

You took a moment to collect your thoughts.

“Bradley… I think he took it hard. The Academy was the only thing he wanted to do after graduation. He didn’t have any other plans. He’s a smart guy, he had all the right grades. He had all the right extra curriculars. Hell, he even had the legacy with Goose being a graduate. It’s always been a mystery to everyone why he got rejected.”

You took a breath, glancing at Bates. He nodded with a soft smile, urging you to continue.

“We saw each other a few times after I left, but it was never, uh, really the same. I guess we just grew apart.” Your mouth twisted around the words awkwardly. You knew why it was never the same, not that you would ever tell Bates this.

How would you ever go about telling, well, anyone that you had hooked up with and lost your virginity to your childhood best friend the night before leaving for the other side of the country for four years? Four years that had now turned into ten.

“I tried to reach out to him after his mother had passed away. It was right when I was finishing my end of term exams… I wasn’t able to make it to the funeral. He never replied to any of my messages or the package and letter I sent him.” Bates was openly looking at you now, he had a neutral expression on his face. You could tell though, he was trying to get a read on what you were feeling.

“I, um. I took it to mean he probably didn’t want to hear from me. After a couple months of trying to reach out to him then, I haven’t spoken to him since. It’s been years now since I’ve seen or heard from him.” You glanced down at your hands, the photo still in them, picking at your nails to avoid his gaze.

“Do you miss him?” Your eyes immediately swung back up to meet his gaze. What?

“What?” You blurt out, having to take a moment to actually speak the phrase.

“Do you miss him? The two of you grew up together. All of us older folk thought your bond was unbreakable. Hell I mean…” He trailed off, glancing back to the photo now forgotten in your hand. He gently took the frame in his putting it on the table, facing the two of you. “To be honest most of us thought the two of you would be married by now, having popped out half a dozen kids.”

Your face was bright red. You felt like you might actually melt into the ground now at this very moment.

Thankfully, Bates let out a barking laugh and slapped the table. “Holy shit, Kazansky. I wish I had a mirror to show you your face right now.”

You laughed along with him, clearly embarrassed.

He took one last look at the old photo, grinning.

“I gotta get back to work now, it’s soon time to head off for the day. Louise is making some kind of stir fry for dinner. She’s on some kind of health kick or another. You’ll have to drop by sometime. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to see you again, and to hear all your sure-to-be swanky tales from the Capitol.” He smiled and nodded to you.

“Here’s the keys to the office. I hope you get at least a fraction of use out of this old office as your old Iceman did. I’m sure with the looks of those books you got there it won’t be an issue for you.” He turned as he was heading out the door, a devious smirk on his face.

“Oh, and don’t ever let me catch you allowing your cat take a shit on my perfect green grass again. Or else I’ll be calling over my favourite drill sergeant to get you to do an asinine amount of pushups, just like any other recruit here would.” He gave you a cheeky wink and then he was off on his way.

You playfully rolled your eyes at his back, your smile returning as you looked down.

You picked up the photo frame one more time, looking to the base of it. On the bottom in your father’s handwriting there was a small written inscription “The fox and her rooster.” You returned the photo to its proper home on your father’s old desk.

You took one last glance around the rooms before leaving and locking the door, heading for the outside once more.

Once arriving at your well loved Ford Bronco, you made sure to check up on Merlin once more. He was happily taking a nap in the warm sun, it was the end of February so the heat hadn’t really started yet.

You sighed as you got into the driver's seat, flipping on the AC and flipping through your CD collection to find what you were looking for. The downside of your vintage beauty was that there was no bluetooth or plug in for your phone. You didn’t mind it though. It added to its charm.

Windows rolled all the way down and your hair thrown up in a claw clip, you put your aviators back on shielding your eyes from the glare of the sun on the road. Popping in your Journeys Frontiers CD, belting your heart out to the music as you started down the drive to the place you once called home. A place where if you’re being honest, your heart still longed for.

I’ll be there soon.

Tag list: @n3ssm0nique @linkedwiththemusic @wonderlandlovelove @serrendiipty @hockeyboysarehot @blossomreed @in-themountains @levylovegood

#bradley bradshaw #top gun rooster #rooster top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun #the fox and the rooster #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #reader insert #miles teller #iceman #tom kazansky #Bradley ‘rooster’ Bradshaw X reader

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Roasted Almonds

Summary: Almost getting knocked over by a handsome stranger on a christmas market might be the start of your personal Hallmark Movie experience.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x fem. Reader

Wordcount: 2.7k

Rating: G

Warnings: fluff, talk of body insecurities, German Christmas markets and food, reader is implied German (no actual German was used in this fic safe for one word), food, alcohol

A/N: here it is. A christmas market meet cute that is way too autobiographical but hey? It's okay, I treat this website like an open diary lmao

Christmas used to be different. 

When you were little you had these big family celebrations. You would have a big feast on Christmas eve before all the kids would be sent upstairs to wait for presents until Santa (or more like whichever adult was in charge of that year) rang the golden bell. 

The kids would have to sing a christmas carol (how humiliating) before they finally got to unwrap the presents. You vividly remember getting underwear for christmas at the age of nine and there might or might not be a picture somewhere around of your reaction.  

Nine year old you did not enjoy getting underwear for christmas. 

Thirty year old you on the other hand….

But then your uncle and aunt got divorced. Then your mother and your step father. And slowly but surely the family grew apart and you, you grew up. 

Christmas became exhausting, sometimes even awkward with just immediate family (and sometimes whoever was your mother’s new boyfriend) around, trying to decide what to cook for dinner that year. 

You mostly ended up on salmon because your mother grew up in a strictly catholic household and even though she hadn’t prayed or went to a church in at least ten years, she couldn’t always escape the strictly catholic childhood she had where god forbid meat was allowed to be eaten on the birth day of Jesus Christ. (Why fish was okay was beyond you, but then again, so was religion)

Another reason Christmas used to be different was because you did not have to pay for anything. If you would have known how expensive it could be, you would have stayed nine forever.

But now you were grown up and your mother had dragged you into the city to get you out of your fucking apartment, the apartment you loved, the apartment that became your sanctuary during a pandemic and your boyfriend breaking up with you via facetime because of social distancing. (At least he had the decency to do so, before moving in with his fucking ex girlfriend)

You were… happy. 

Mostly.

Of course there were times you wondered if this was all you’d get from life. 

If you’d still be sitting alone in your apartment in twenty years wondering if something was wrong with you because you did not want to get out and meet new people. That you would still be happy being single (mostly)

Not that you did not enjoy meeting people when you actually got out of the house once in a while. 

But you did not make an effort to actually get out. 

So here you were, in your winter coat, already sweating underneath it, because fuck global warming really was making december feel more like september but you had treated yourself to a new expensive winter coat so you’d suffer through it, walking next to your mother who was drinking her mulled wine and checking out handmade christmas decoration that was way to expensive (and ugly).

There was something about German Christmas markets that was just magical though. 

The lights, the scents, the decorations. Last Christmas running in every possible cover version that existed. 

You had been to christmas markets in other countries as well but nothing felt like the ones at home even though you were unable to describe why. 

It wasn’t long before you walked into some friends of your mother (because she knew literally everyone) who invited you both for another round of mulled wine which you declined because you had agreed to drive home. 

For a couple minutes you stayed with them, catching up on gossip before you excused yourself to walk another round over the market, maybe get to the drug store to buy that expensive perfume you had been talking yourself out of getting for a month (or batteries for your trusty vibrator)

It was bittersweet. 

The last time, pre-pandemic, you had been here with your Ex. It was the last time you had seen him in person. You really thought that he would be the one. 

The two of you had met a year before while you were visiting one of your friends in Spain, falling head over heels for him. Long distance was hard, but you made it work. Until he met his ex at a birthday party during the beginning of covid and noticed that there were still some feelings for her left.

You might have had…. A little breakdown that lasted maybe…. Two whole weeks after he broke up with you on facetime while you had planned a totally different evening with the new lingerie and the remote vibrator he could control you had bought online. 

So yeah, maybe you were finished with men. 

You were thinking about adopting a cat. 

Or a… turtle. 

Maybe some fish? Could you adopt a fish?

You let your eyes wander through the booths before you walked closer to one selling handmade snowglobes. You still regretted not buying the one snowglobe a couple of years ago which had a Tyrannosaurus Rex with a Christmas hat on. 

You were almost there when someone bumped into you, big hands grabbing you by the shoulders, to keep you from falling face first to the ground, the man already apologising in broken German before you could even look at him.

It was the moment you met Marcus Pike.

Marcus had taken a German class back in college. 

And up to a week ago, when he was sent to Dresden he thought his German was… okay?

And it was okay. 

If he had to order himself something for dinner or ask for directions. 

It was something completely different when he was helping in an investigation after one of the biggest treasure robberies to date. Diamonds and centuries old jewellery worth hundreds of millions of dollars had been stolen in a heist and the FBI had offered their help. 

So in a red eye flight from Washington to Berlin he had listened to a German course online, feeling very confident in his language skills until he had to go through customs. 

Safe to say he was glad the majority of people knew at least some english. Though it made him feel like a stereotypical American tourist who expected everyone and everything to understand and cater to him. 

The lady at the car rental counter at the Berlin airport had been very helpful though. And flirted shamelessly while she explained the car and German traffic laws to him. 

The drive from berlin to dresden flew by (which might have been thanks to no speed limit on the autobahn holy fuck) and after a 13 hour long sleep in his hotel he had joined the investigation. 

It was now week two and he had two days off before he would join the investigation for another 5 days before flying back home for christmas. 

And so he used the time to see some of germany. 

He booked himself a hotel on the other side of the country and just drove, fascinated that while he drove 5 hours he could be almost in another country while back home he would still be in texas. 

So here he was, enjoying the festive decorations on the local christmas market of the city he was staying in. He had some mulled wine and ate some mushrooms with garlic sauce and he was happy. 

Well until he took time to people watch and saw all these…. Happy couples holding hands and being in love. 

He might have gotten laid two weeks ago (and to his horror he could not even remember her name) but it was the feeling of being in love that he missed. 

He was missing someone to care about, to hold, to kiss.

He wanted to hold hands and take dreamy walks over the christmas market while arguing about what to cook this christmas (he had heard of a german tradition of potato salad and sausage and he was fascinated)

He was in his thoughts, which is why he did not see you, his hand shooting out to keep you from falling, excuses in broken German coming from his lips that parted in awe when his eyes found yours. 

You looked as surprised as he felt, lips parted as you looked up at him. 

He was… beautiful.

Possibly the most handsome man you had ever seen. 

In a split second a movie played in your mind about the life you could have with him. Love, marriage, kids, sex. Shaking your head, flustered, to clear your mind you sheepishly smiled at him. There was no way this man would be interested in someone like… you. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t look where I was going,” he said and you smiled. 

“No worries,” you said and he sighed relieved. 

“You speak my language,” he said and you chuckled. 

“I do,” you said and his smile got wider before he let go of your arm. 

“I feel like most Americans expect everyone just to speak English and…”

“Well I am german and I expect most people to speak english too, so you’re good,” you winked and he bit his lip. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his eyes checking you for any inuries. You nodded. 

“Can I… invite you for a… Gluhwein? As an… apology,” he asked, giving you a hopeful smile and what could only be described as puppy eyes. You fought the inner German control freak in yourself who wanted to correct his pronunciation. There was this beautiful adorable fucking hot american man inviting poor old you for a hot drink, and you wanted to what? Correct him? You should be getting on your knees to…

“Nothing to apologise for. But…. I…. would like that,” you said before you mind could come up with more inappropriate scenarios, tilting your head as you continued to smile at him. 

You learned that his name was Marcus Pike and that he was here for work from the states. Washington to be exact. 

He was charming, had the cutest little dimple and a spot in his beard that seemed to mock you to kiss it. 

You had met him when? An hour ago? But you already knew about his favourite movie, his favourite band and that he was divorced and currently single. 

In that order. 

It was not you who asked, it was him who told you which made you… pause for a moment. A man not interested would not tell you he was single, wouldn’t he? Were you really in the middle of a fucking hallmark movie?

Men like him did not look at you like he did. 

To this day you did not know how you even managed to be in any relationship with the insecurities you had when it came to your looks. 

You liked yourself. 

You just did not get the idea of anyone else doing the same, which might sound weird if you spoke it out loud, but to you it made total sense. 

“Hey,” Marcus said and you blinked your eyes. 

“Did you hear a word of what I just said?” he asked with a chuckle. You had switched to hot chocolate after your mulled wine, remembering that somewhere on this christmas market was your by now probably tipsy mother who you had to drive home. You had introduced Marcus to your favourite, warm roasted almonds, and had chosen a bag full of christmas cookies for him to take with him. 

“Sorry. I was just…” you looked at him, trying to figure him out. He tilted his head, his eyes curious. 

“I was wondering what made you decide to spend your time with me I guess…” you shrugged and Marcus frowned. 

“Why would I not?” he asked. 

“Women like me do not get the handsome mysterious foreign men who, and correct me if I’m wrong, have their shit together and are far too nice to be single. Did I mention that you’re fucking hot? I just… I’m sure there are numerous other women you could be speaking to,” you shrugged, feeling very vulnerable all of the sudden. 

You huffed a laugh. 

“You know what? Ignore what I just said. We’ve only met an hour ago. You don’t care about all my shit. It’s… Thank you for the drink, Marcus,” you smiled, turning your head away with the intention to walk away, when you heard him say your name. 

Turning around you find him looking down at you, having taken a step towards you. He was taller than you, making you tilt your head up so you could look into his beautiful brown eyes. 

“I don’t know who hurt you to make you see yourself like that,” he began and you gulped.

“Look, I tend to rush things. But I feel like with you I have to rush things, not only because of what you just said but because I’m only here for another couple of days. Well… to be exact I have to leave to go back to work in two days and it’s a five hour drive so…” he rambled and you felt your lips widen in a smile. 

“Can I take you out for lunch tomorrow? And dinner?” he asked. You parted your lips in surprise. 

“And for the record this is not to apologise for running you over still, it’s because I…. I want to get to know you because… you’re funny and cute and you do that adorable thing with your nose when you’re thinking about something and I… I really really want to get to know you better before I….”

“Before you?” you whispered. 

“Before I kiss you,” he whispered back, his face coming closer. 

“K… Kiss me?” you squealed. He nodded with a small smile. 

“Even though I had a ton of that delicious garlic sauce earlier and probably taste like it, all I can think about is kissing you,” he hummed.

“You… You could kiss me? If you want. I… wouldn’t stop you. I actually like garlic. I… I think sometimes it’s… It’s okay to rush things like… kissing me. Kissing me seems like a good reason to…”

He stopped your nervous ramble with his lips on yours and you sighed, closing your eyes, melting against him, as one of his arms wrapped behind you.

The only thing that would make this more cheesy would be if it started snowing. 

Instead you heard your mother call out your name behind you, making you groan and Marcus chuckle. 

“How about we meet for lunch and cook dinner after together at my place?” you asked him. 

“Sounds perfect,” he whispered against your lips. Sucking your bottom lip in you reached for your phone so he could give you his number. 

You turned away from him, giving your mother who was approaching you a stern look that made her narrow her eyes but worked to shut her up from any attempts on humiliating you in front of this man. 

“Here. I already called myself so I have your number,” he said and you turned around, taking your phone from him. 

“I’ll.. text you,” you said with a sheepish smile. 

“When you get home,” he said and you grinned. 

“So I know you got home safe,” he added, all serious, winking at you. 

“Of course,” you nodded, taking a deep breath as you took a step back.

“Get some more of those roasted almonds. They’re delicious,” you said and he nodded. 

“I will,” he smiled, his hands in his coat pockets. 

“Call me,” he added. 

You smiled, nodding at him, before you turned around and walked towards your mother. 

Who, thankfully, refrained from asking any questions, just giving you a knowing smile. 

And in a… surprising turn of events you found yourself in Washington DC 10 days later. 

Celebrating your first Christmas with Marcus Pike. 

#my fic #Marcus pike #Marcus Pike x fem. reader #Pedro pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

[spaceoddball1969]

Falling for the Freak - Eddie Munson Fix-it Fic  Chapter 01

Okie dokie...here it is. Well, at least chapter one. I have literally no promises for this thing. I haven’t written creatively in like 2 years and barely ever have time, but here’s to trying something new. Please don’t tear it to shreds. 

PLOT SUMMARY: This is meant to be a fix-it type fic for season 4 so I can feel less depressed. If you want a bigger overview of what this is about see my original posts about it below. Y/N - female reader. She has taken two gap years between high school and college, so she is around the same age as Eddie, if not a year older. I will try to keep detailed physical descriptions to a minimum so y’all can truly imagine yourself in the story. There is will be fluff, angst, and smut eventually. For now we’re just in the very very beginnings.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Y/N moves to Hawkins to live with her aunt and cousin, Dustin, while she takes community college classes. She moves in and catches up with her favorite cousin. 

WARNINGS: None

I watched from the backseat of my parents’ Town and Country as my dad pulled onto my aunt’s street. This was going to be my new residence, at least for the time being until I could save enough money for an apartment. I had lived in a small city just over an hour outside of Hawkins my entire life. However, when my dad got laid off this last year and suddenly our income plummeted, my parents decided that some sacrifices needed to be made. The biggest sacrifice of them all? My finally starting college at Indiana University Bloomington. Instead I was to be moving in with my Aunt Claudia and my cousin, Dustin, and attending classes at the nearest community college. My aunt allowing me to stay with her in Hawkins helped to cut down the expense of commuting to campus each day. Her house was so much closer to campus, in fact, that my parents had decided that I no longer needed a car to myself and that a bike would suffice to make the commute. That bike was now strapped to the back of the car and shaking violently as we pulled up the driveway of Aunt Claudia’s house. 

I had a week until my classes started. My parents decided that it would be best to move me into Aunt Claudia’s house with enough time to adjust to my new living situation before I had to deal with my first college courses. It had been a while since I had sat in a classroom as I took a few gap years between high school and college. My parents were not totally sure I’d make the return to school smoothly. I had a week before I could prove them wrong. But first, I had to make sure everything was in order in my new home.

As we pulled in the drive of Aunt Claudia’s home, she excitedly stepped out the front door, my cousin not far behind her. It wasn’t so much that I was living with Aunt Claudia and Dustin that bothered me. It was more the whole giving up on my dreams of a four year university that really put a damper on the situation. I was happy to get to spend some more time with my aunt and Dustin. When Dustin was a little kid, he would follow me everywhere whenever my parents and I visited. It had been a few years since we had spent any serious time together, but I was still looking forward to seeing him again.

“Oh my gosh look how you’ve grown!” Aunt Claudia squealed as I stepped out of the parked car.

“Hi, Aunt Claudia,” I said, giving in to her tight hug. “It’s so good to see you,”

“We’re so excited to have you here with us for a while,” she replied, letting me go.

“Thank you again, sis,” my dad said, giving my Aunt a knowing look.

“You are more than welcome,” she said.

My parents helped me move my things out of the car and into the guest bedroom. My room was small, but cozy. I had a single bed, a writing desk with a lamp on it, and a dresser for my clothes. I also had a small closet that I hung some of my nicer clothes in. Within a few hours, I was unpacked and fairly settled into my new space. Once I had thrown my suitcases under the bed, I collapsed onto the mattress, exhausted from the drive and all the unpacking. I then heard a soft knock on the door.

“Come on in,” I called from my place on the bed.

“Y/N?” It was Dustin. He opened the door slowly and stepped inside. 

“Hey, Dusty, what’s up?” I asked, pushing myself up on my elbows.

“Oh, you probably shouldn’t call me that anymore,” He said, his cheeks turning pink.

“And why not?” I asked, fully sitting up. “Are you too cool for my nicknames now?”

“No, it’s just,” He stumbled over his words for a second. “That’s what my girlfriend calls me,” he finally admitted.

“You have a girlfriend?!” I asked. “Oh my gosh that’s so exciting!” Dustin broke out into a big smile. “Yeah, her name’s Suzy. She lives in Utah though, so I don’t see her much,” Dustin and I spent the rest of the afternoon catching up. He refreshed my memory of each of his friends. He explained that he was still close with Mike, Lucas, and Will, and that a few girls had finally joined their party and that their names were Max and Jane. Will, unfortunately, had moved to California with his mom, brother, and Jane, who was his adopted sister. I was sad to hear that as I had always had a bit of a soft spot for Will when we were all growing up. 

Just like me, Dustin was a week away from starting school. It was going to be his first year of high school. I cringed in remembrance of my first year of high school.

“Just be yourself,” I said. “You’ll find your place. And you’ll have Mike and Lucas to hang out with,”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Mike’s still great, but Lucas keeps talking about how he wants things to be different this year. He’s talking about joining the basketball team,”

“Would that be the worst thing?” I asked.

“I guess not,” Dustin said. “It’s just, all the popular kids are on the sports teams, and we’re not exactly what you would call popular,” “Popularity is overrated,” I said, “Lucas will realize that in time. And maybe he just wants to play basketball, it might not have anything to do with popularity,” “I guess you’re right,” Dustin said.

“Of course I’m right,” I said, standing up from the bed. “Now, how about we go talk your mom into ordering us a pizza for dinner?”

To that, Dustin gave me a wide smile. We were just about to step out the door of my new bedroom, when Dustin stopped me. “Y/N?” he asked.

“Yeah?” “I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

“I think I’m glad I’m here too,” I smiled. “Now come one, pizza, pizza, pizza,”

Chapter 02

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #female reader #fix it fic #chapter 01 #new fanfic author please don't kill me

[thnxforknowingme]

A Matter of Distance

Pairing: Kurtbastian Rating: M Word Count: ~10k

Summary: Sebastian and Kurt live in different cities, leading their own lives, only crossing paths when Sebastian visits New York and they hook up. It’s fun and easy, the way they slip into each other’s lives as long-distance friends with benefits, but things get a little more complicated over the years.

Notes: Countless thanks to @backslashdelta for betaing - her encouragement and critical eye were crucial to making this fic as good as it is.

Sebastian’s applying to another job while at work.

There’s little chance of him getting caught, with his private office and computer screen facing away from any potential visitors, but he doesn’t care that much anyway. Actually, if he did get caught, maybe his supervisor would panic and they’d offer him a raise.

He spins his pen between his fingers as he proofreads the email before sending it off. The salary for the position is higher than what he earns currently, but probably not proportional to how much his cost of living would go up if he moved.

He closes the tab and tries to focus on his current job, instead of hedging his bets on the future.

He misses New York, that’s all. It was nice to be in a bigger city, the center of the world. He’s grown bored of Providence lately - of his apartment, his job, the nightlife, the men - and New York might bring some needed excitement into his life. Plus, a lot of his college friends are still there. 

He has plenty of good reasons to move back to New York. But he knows what the biggest reason is, and he steadfastly refuses to admit it to himself.

Eight Years Ago

“Out! With! A! Bang!” The crowd shouts together, and on the last syllable Devin opens a bottle of champagne with explosive force, the cork soaring into the night sky.

Sebastian’s laughing as someone thumps him on the back, and then Devin passes him a plastic champagne flute, the outside already sticky with spilled alcohol. He holds it up gamely, reviving the cheers of the partygoers, and then takes a long sip of the bubbly liquid.

It’s all that he could have asked for from a going-away party and more.

They’re at a rooftop bar, rented out for the evening, crowded full to burst with grad students, clubbing friends, lacrosse teammates, and random people who were dragged along or just wanted to crash a party. The night tastes like expensive alcohol and possibility. It’s everything Sebastian has loved about the city, here for one last encore before he moves away.

His closest friends from the MBA program he just finished had presented him with his outfit for the evening - one of those ubiquitous “I ♥ NY” shirts, but with the sleeves cut off to create a loose bro tank. His neighbor brought him a plastic golden crown, which is perched crookedly on his head.

Once several bottles of champagne have been poured and dispersed, the music volume increases, and Sebastian wanders around the bar, trying to split his attention between everyone. Drinks are constantly being pressed into his hand, and he’s well past tipsy by the time he notices Kurt. 

Kurt…something with an H. He’s a friend of Maxie’s. Or maybe Maxie had dated him, or maybe Maxie had fucked his roommate. Kurt-H-Something-Who-Somehow-Knew-Maxie had been hanging around in their orbit for several weeks, joining Sebastian’s motley crew of friends at various bars and parties. He works in theater, somehow. A few times there have been various other alt-looking theater nerds tagging along with him.

Sebastian had been drawn to Kurt immediately because he was so unlike the finance bros he spent most of his time with. He’s intriguing, and although he isn’t Sebastian’s type he can’t deny that Kurt’s got a nice body. A shiny, new opportunity for entertainment.

Tonight he’s leaning against a railing, holding a cocktail, talking with Maxie and some woman Sebastian doesn’t recognize. Sebastian adjusts the crown on his head and walks over.

He lets them all fawn over him for a moment, wishing him goodbye and good luck and complimenting the party. Then the song booming through the sound system changes, and Sebastian makes some enthusiastic comment about how much he likes it. He moves into Kurt’s personal space so that he can swipe the glass from his hand and down the last sip of liquid inside. “Dance with me?” he asks, meeting Kurt’s gaze boldly.

If he weren’t drunk already he might have opted for a more subtle approach. But he’s leaving New York in 36 hours, and he’s decidedly unsober.

Kurt rolls his eyes, but lets himself be pulled into the center of the roof, already crowded with uncoordinated dancers.

Sebastian doesn’t know the name of the song that’s playing, but he’s heard it on the radio, danced to it in clubs. He feels the bassline buzz through his veins as he pulls Kurt close, moving his hips in time to the beat. He dares to rest his hands on Kurt’s waist, and Kurt responds by running a hand down Sebastian’s bare bicep.

“This is a ridiculous shirt,” Kurt says, leaning in close to be heard, breath warm against Sebastian’s cheek.

“That’s sort of the point,” Sebastian replies. “And I don’t think you’re one to call other people’s clothing ridiculous.”

Kurt laughs, and Sebastian feels it more than hears it. “I may make some bold choices, but this is just trashy.” Even as he complains about it, he continues to drag his finger along the edge of the shirt, down the side of Sebastian’s pec to his ribs where the fabric is cut open.

“If it’s so offensive to you,” Sebastian says, meeting Kurt’s gaze with a grin, “I could just take it off.”

Kurt’s pupils are wide, inky black, mesmerizing. “Now, there’s an idea.”

Sebastian is just leaning in, brushing his nose against Kurt’s cheekbone, when suddenly a large hand claps on his shoulder and he’s startled backwards.

“There he is!” It’s Devin, shouting, all affable bravado. “Come on, Seb, we’ve been looking for the guest of honor!”

Kurt’s hand falls away from his side as Devin wraps an arm around him and starts to pull him away. “Man, quit it,” Sebastian tries to object.

“Oh, no sir, it’s too early in the night for a hookup,” Devin insists. “We’re doing body shots. Everyone gets a piece of you tonight, man.”

Devin’s grip is iron. Sebastian turns back to Kurt and shrugs, helpless. “Can we take a raincheck?” he asks.

Kurt laughs, throwing his head back so that the light hits his sharp jawline and pale neck. “Sure,” he agrees, waving Sebastian off. Sebastian grins widely, and lets Devin pull him towards the bar, which has been completely cleared off for him to lie down on.

He climbs up at his friends’ insistence, and does end up taking off the shirt, just like he promised Kurt.

.

Kurt is at a copy shop, waiting for the remaining programs for the theater’s upcoming show to print out, when he gets a text. He pulls out his phone, hoping desperately that it’s not a last-minute change to the programs that will require him to reprint them all, and is surprised to see that it’s from Sebastian Smythe.

Hey I’m gonna be back in nyc for a bit next week, you wanna catch up? grab a drink?

Kurt blinks down at his phone screen. He hasn’t spoken to Sebastian since he moved to Providence last summer sometime - maybe five months ago? And it wasn’t like they had talked much before that, either. Kurt doesn’t expect to be anywhere near the top of his list of people to visit in New York.

He remembers the last time he saw Sebastian, at his extravagant goodbye party, where they’d had…some kind of moment. Something flirty and fun. He isn’t sure how seriously it was all meant - Sebastian seemed to act that way with most men at some point or another, and they’d both been a little drunk. Is this a veiled invitation for a hookup? Or does Sebastian actually want to be friends? And does Kurt care either way?

The constant whir of the printer finally stops, the massive stack of pages ready for Kurt to take, collate, and fold. He considers Sebastian’s message. He’s curious, more than anything, when he texts back, Yeah that sounds great! Tuesday night?

.

Tuesday finds Kurt tucked into the corner of a cozy bar, laughing uncontrollably as Sebastian tells a story about accidentally trying to break into a neighbor’s apartment when he first moved to Providence.

“So it’s late and I’m pissed and the property manager isn’t picking up,” Sebastian says, using the hand that isn’t holding his Jack and Coke to gesture, “and I’m googling locksmiths on my phone when this woman comes up and asks if she can help me.”

“No!” Kurt gasps, leaning his weight further onto his elbows on the table.

“Yep. So I explain the whole situation, with a pretty rude tone I might add, and she just goes, ‘well the reason your key doesn’t work is that this is my apartment.’”

Kurt covers his face, stifling another laugh.

Sebastian takes a slow sip of his drink. “Yeah, luckily she was surprisingly cool about the whole thing, and gave me directions to get back to my actual apartment.”

Kurt sighs, wipes a tear from the corner of his eye.

It’s the longest conversation he’s ever had with Sebastian, and he’s surprised at just how easy it is. In their acquaintanceship before they were usually only together in large groups, at loud bars, and while he’d grown fond of Sebastian despite his more off-putting qualities, he’s not even sure he would have called him a friend. 

So tonight has turned out to be a surprise. Kurt had figured he’d stay for an hour or two and then have an early night in, but by the time he checks his phone it’s already 11:30, and there’s not a single cell in his body that wants to leave.

They stay until after last call, when the bartender starts turning up the music and sending them pointed glances. They gather up their coats to leave, and when they step outside it’s fucking freezing. 

“My hotel’s nearby,” Sebastian says, his breath solidifying in the night air. “You wanna go warm up there?”

Kurt isn’t sure how genuinely the innuendo is meant, but he decides he’s fine either way. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They’re quieter as they walk - they still make idle comments about their surroundings, but it isn’t the nonstop conversation that defined the rest of their evening. Kurt wonders at the sudden lull - is it awkward, now that they’re going back to Sebastian’s hotel? He wants to say something to lighten the mood, but he can’t think of anything to talk about. Blurting out something random seems like it would only further compound the awkwardness. He doesn’t want Sebastian to think that he might feel awkward. He remains quiet as they make their way to the hotel and step inside the well-lit lobby.

“Just to warn you,” Sebastian says as he presses the button to call the elevator, “since this is a hotel in Manhattan, it’s just barely more space than one of those Japanese capsule hotels.”

Kurt laughs. “So just a step below my apartment, then.”

The elevator doors slide open. Sebastian shrugs. “I’ve never been to your apartment, but you do sort of strike me as the starving artist type.”

“I think I resent that,” Kurt says as they rise upward through the floors. “Even if it is accurate, for now.”

“For now?” Sebastian challenges.

“That’s right,” Kurt says. They step out on the twelfth floor, and he follows Sebastian down the narrow hallway. “Someday I’ll be rich and famous. You’ll get to say you knew me back when.”

“And how does your neck manage to hold up such a massive head?” Sebastian jokes. He pauses in front of a room, uses a key card to open the door, and gestures for Kurt to enter.

Kurt steps inside and flicks on the light. Sebastian had hardly exaggerated - the decor is nice, but the room takes up the approximate space of a suburban walk-in closet. There’s a queen bed, a small nightstand, an armoire, and a mini fridge with a microwave stacked on top. A TV is mounted to the wall. The door to Kurt’s left is ajar, revealing the bathroom.

Sebastian shuts the door behind them. There’s hardly enough room for them both to stand without touching. This isn’t a social call, a nightcap in a common area where conversation or entertainment is reasonable. It’s a hotel room. There’s only one reason for Kurt to have come here.

“Do you remember the last time I saw you?” Sebastian asks, his voice low.

Kurt turns around to face him. “Do you?” Kurt says. “You were already pretty drunk.”

Sebastian smiles. “Parts of that night are hazy,” he admits. “But you’re hard to forget.”

Kurt rolls his eyes at the line. “Shut up, Smythe,” he says. “You want to finish what we started?”

“God, yes,” Sebastian says, and then he’s closing the scant space between them, reaching up to cup Kurt’s jaw and pull him in hard against his lips.

.

It’s almost annoying that Sebastian turns out to be a really good lay.

Kurt leaves very early the next morning, since Sebastian has work meetings and Kurt doesn’t want to linger. They say goodbye through yawns, and Kurt walk-of-shames to the subway so he can get back to his apartment, shower, and then fall asleep for a few hours before he has to be at the theater.

He doesn’t think much about Sebastian after that, except when he tells friends about this wild thing that happened - a former acquaintance from out of town showing up and giving him an incredible night out of the blue.

And then, two weeks later, he gets another text: Ran into the woman whose place I almost burgled. She invited me to dinner. Extremely hospitable, or going to murder me in revenge?

Kurt snorts as he reads it, then slaps his hand over his mouth in response to the undignified noise. He replies, If she really wanted to murder you, she would have already done it.

So it becomes a pattern. Kurt doesn’t talk to Sebastian often, but they occasionally exchange texts, references to their few shared experiences or idle banter. Their conversations have little substance, but they’re fun in a way that Kurt doesn’t feel when talking to anyone else. They lead their separate lives in separate cities, but every once in a while they joke and tease back and forth through texts.

Shortly before Memorial Day, Sebastian mentions that he’ll be in the city again for a friend’s birthday. You free to hang out?

Kurt vibrates with anticipation, but forces himself to wait twenty minutes before replying. He doesn’t want to seem too eager and make things weird. Definitely ;)

.

Sebastian’s never had a friendship quite like this.

Sure, there are people he’s befriended and eventually hooked up with, or guys whose status in his life hovered somewhere between ‘friend’ and ‘booty call.’ But there was no one else who, after sex, he would hang around with in their apartment eating takeout.

“It’s literally just disrespectful,” Kurt says, gesturing sharply with his disposable chopsticks.

Sebastian swallows a piece of sweet and sour pork and says, “I don’t see why this is a big deal.”

He’s sitting on Kurt’s couch, wearing only boxers - Kurt had forbidden him from being naked while they ate - and Kurt’s complaining about some drama at the theater where he works. He looks rumpled and cozy - his hair still a little unruly from their late afternoon tryst, wearing the sweats and undershirt that he’d thrown on to meet the delivery guy downstairs. 

Kurt rolls his eyes. “I think you either need to learn something about theater, or I need to stop talking to you about these things, because your ignorance feels a little offensive at this point.”

Sebastian grins. “I don’t ask you to learn about finance.”

“No,” Kurt agrees flatly, “because your job is boring, and I can still understand office politics without having to know exactly what you’re typing into your little spreadsheets.”

Sebastian snorts. “It’s a shame that you’re too clueless to even understand how clueless you are.”

The give and take is easy, second nature, and Sebastian feels like for the first time, he’s found a sharp-tongued equal. Kurt doesn’t even take time to be offended at a barb before he’s launching his own. It’s like a game of chess. Or really good foreplay.

He needs to get back to his hotel room eventually, because he does have places to be early the next morning. But he has no more plans for tonight, and he’s hopeful that Kurt will be up for a second round. Even if all they do is eat Chinese food and bitch back and forth at each other, the evening will still be pretty enjoyable.

.

Kurt steps into his apartment, tosses his keys into the basket by the door, and lets out a long sigh.

He’s just so tired of this - of false starts and mismatches, of promise and excitement that shrivels up, of break-ups and bad dates. Romantic as he is, he’s never managed to hold onto a serious, adult relationship for long. Even the guys that there’s a spark with, the ones who seem to have potential - something always goes wrong. Their goals don’t match up, or they move out of town, or there’s some unbearable habit of theirs that eventually shows through the cracks.

The date Kurt had tonight, though - it was just bad. No potential whatsoever.

He walks into the kitchen and pauses, glancing between the liquor shelf and the freezer. He decides he really doesn’t want to risk a hangover the next day, and opts for the ice cream.

With a carton of cookies and cream and a single spoon, Kurt turns the TV to a One Tree Hill rerun and luxuriates in his patheticness. The show isn’t sufficiently distracting, so he picks up his phone to scroll through Twitter. Seeing his message app when he unlocks the phone, he has the sudden urge to talk to someone. He thinks about texting Sebastian.

Sebastian might get a kick out of his dating woes. Or maybe they could just chat idly, cheering Kurt up through their typical fond banter, talking about nothing really but in the most entertaining way. Maybe he could say something flirty, bait Sebastian into complimenting him. They’ve never sexted, but Kurt bets that Sebastian would be into that.

The moment he thinks of it, it becomes so deeply tempting. He knows that no matter what they talk about, just exchanging a few texts with Sebastian will make him feel better. His thumb hovers over the app.

He glances at the time. It’s 10pm on a Friday. Sebastian is probably busy, out on the town or going on a date of his own. Or maybe he’s already in bed - he does work a lot, after all.

Kurt tosses his phone onto the couch and reaches for another spoonful of ice cream. It was a bad idea, anyway. The instinct to reach out to Sebastian when he’s having romantic issues seems like a dangerous precedent. Sebastian’s attention is welcomed, but it’s not the same as a boyfriend. Kurt shouldn’t try to use it as a replacement.

He has sugar and soapy television. He’s gotten through worse nights than this before - he can weather this alone.

.

Sebastian hears the shower shut off as he opens cabinets in the kitchen, searching for a glass. He finally finds one, fills it with water from the sink, and leans back against the counter.

He generally prefers to bring hookups back to his place, but this guy lived just two blocks from the bar where they met, and it seemed impractical to turn down his invitation. He observes the room around him as he sips his water, noting the crumbs surrounding the toaster, the mail splayed across the dining table. Providence is a small city, and unlike Manhattan, even the cheaper apartments tend to have a liveble amount of space.

The guy - Brennan, Sebastian thinks his name was - walks into the kitchen with a green towel wrapped around his waist. He jerks his chin upward in greeting. “You good?”

Outside of the dim light of the bar, his face is decidedly less handsome than Sebastian initially thought. It doesn’t matter, though - the sex was still pretty good, and they hadn’t been facing each other for most of it anyway. “Yeah,” Sebastian replies. “I’ll head out in a minute.”

Brennan grunts in acknowledgement, and then walks back towards the bedroom. Sometimes guys here will inquire whether he’s sober enough to drive at the end of the night, but Brennan doesn’t bother. Sebastian almost appreciates it - he’s a grown up, he’s responsible, he can get a cab if he needs to without someone nagging him.

Sebastian finishes the water and sets the empty glass by the sink. He double-checks his pockets for his keys, wallet, phone. He wonders if he should say anything, let Brennan know he’s leaving.

Sebastian doesn’t go home with random men to cuddle - he’s looking for a quick, good time, a shot of pleasure to keep him going through the mundanities of life. There’s always a strange sort of dichotomy at play, being let into someone’s home or taking someone into yours, getting them completely physically vulnerable, and then disappearing into the night to never see them again. It’s somehow the deepest of intimacy without any commitment whatsoever, a complete ‘fuck you’ to the general societal expectations.

Brennan had barely caught his breath after orgasm before he was climbing out of bed, away from Sebastian. Sebastian leaves the apartment without a word.

.

Sebastian got upgraded to a suite for his stay in New York this time, so he and Kurt have significantly more space than usual in which to fool around. They do spend a while on the couch when they first arrive, Sebastian straddling Kurt and exploring every inch of his neck and collarbones and shoulders with his mouth. Once they start fully undressing, though, Kurt insists they move to the bed. It’s a cleanliness thing, he says.

“I really wanted to bend you over that desk by the window, though,” Sebastian complains.

“That sounds extremely uncomfortable,” Kurt says as he undoes his pants. “You’re gonna fuck me on the bed, where there’s pillows and newly-washed sheets.”

And who is Sebastian to say no?

After they’ve cleaned up and gotten dressed, and then lounged around a while longer, Kurt insists he needs to go home. “I’ll walk you to the subway,” Sebastian says, jamming his feet into his shoes.

It’s a block and a half to the station, but they’re long blocks, avenue blocks. It’s not too late, so they frequently pass other people on the street. Kurt mentions how he enjoys taking the J train at night, getting to see Manhattan all lit up as he goes over the bridge, and then they devolve into telling subway horror stories.

It’s odd, Sebastian thinks - when he’s not in New York, it feels like having lived in New York is such a big part of him. But then he comes back to the city every once in a while and he’s surrounded by lifelong New Yorkers, or even transplants like Kurt who have lived here for longer than Sebastian’s handful of years, and it feels a bit foolish to claim New York as part of his identity. He gave up subway rides and late-night bodega trips, and the city moves on without him, unaffected by his absence. He was little more than a long-term tourist.

They reach the subway entrance and pause on the sidewalk to say goodbye. Sebastian leans in to hug Kurt, and - to his surprise, feels Kurt’s lips brush against his face, somewhere between his cheek and chin.

They separate, both a little startled. “Did you kiss me?” Sebastian asks.

“You leaned in!” Kurt insists, defensive.

“I was leaning in to hug you,” Sebastian explains.

“Your face was way too close to my face for that just to be a hug!”

Sebastian laughs and runs a hand through his hair. “Well, we really fucked that up.”

“I was confused,” Kurt says, his expression somewhere between embarrassed and annoyed. “You’ve never kissed me in public before, but I figured I’d go along with it, so I didn’t hurt your feelings.”

Sebastian scoffs. “Well, you misinterpreted the whole situation,” he says. “And now it’s super awkward. I guess we have to never speak to each other again.”

That gets Kurt to smile. “I guess so. Well, it’s been nice knowing you, Smythe.”

“Likewise,” Sebastian replies. “Have a nice life.”

Kurt rolls his eyes and turns around, heading down the steps into the train station. Sebastian watches him go, sees him turn the corner and disappear into the underground.

He waits until he’s back in his hotel room to text Kurt. Look, I’ll forgive you. I know I’m just unbearably kissable. It’s been a problem for other people before.

Kurt’s reply is quick - his train must currently be above ground. Fuck you.

I’d love that, Sebastian texts back. How about some reciprocity though? You should visit Providence some time.

I don’t know what you think my life is like, Kurt answers, but I’m not so desperate for sex that I need to leave the state for it.

You seemed pretty desperate to kiss me, though, Sebastian sends.

That’s been replaced solely by the desire to punch you, Kurt says, and Sebastian laughs.

.

The night starts off well when Kurt’s date compliments his shoes, and it only gets better from there.

Carter is handsome and gentlemanly, and they go out to dinner at a vegan restaurant on the Upper West Side. The food is delicious, and Kurt snaps a photo of the menu so he can try and recreate some of the dishes at home.

The conversation flows between them, discussing work and family and hobbies. There’s some of that first-date uncertainty at times, pauses when the conversation fizzles out - but it always manages to pick up again, and they both seem to be genuinely enjoying themselves.

After Carter gets the check (insisting that Kurt can pay next time), they decide to find somewhere to get a drink and prolong the evening.

While they’re on the street, walking close down the sidewalk, Kurt feels his phone buzz with a text. He takes it out briefly, just to check that it’s nothing urgent. There’s a new message from Sebastian: I watched that stupid reality show you recommended and I hate it but I’m obsessed.

Kurt knows immediately what he’s referring to - a show that’s equally trashy, sexy, and addicting. He’d brought it up a couple weeks back, when Sebastian had been in town and they’d spent a late night at Kurt’s apartment, watching TV in between rounds of sex. Sebastian had made fun of Kurt’s guilty pleasure shows, and Kurt challenged him to watch his most recent obsession.

A million questions spring to his mind - which contestant is Sebastian’s favorite? How far has he gotten into the show? Has he thrown anything at his TV yet?

But he can feel Carter’s warmth next to him, and he forces himself to put his phone back into his pocket. He’s on a date, and he’s not going to be rude - Sebastian can wait.

The neighborhood seems to be dominated by sports bars, so in avoiding that they end up in an Irish pub. It’s not a venue Kurt dislikes on principle, but he wouldn’t have chosen it for a date. They slide into a booth with their drinks and continue talking.

Kurt notices that Carter frequently sucks his tongue against his teeth before speaking, making a sort of clicking noise. It isn’t that obtrusive, but once he catches it he can’t stop paying attention, and it becomes a little grating.

Kurt can feel the weight of his phone in his pocket, and his fingers itch to take it out.

Carter tells a story about how his father initially wanted to name him Jebediah, after an ancestor, before his mother convinced him not to. It’s a funny story, but it makes Kurt think more about the name ‘Carter.’ Would being part of a couple called Kurt-and-Carter be a little too cutesy?

A group of older men at the bar are being loud, and Kurt keeps having to repeat his words to be heard over the din. He can’t stop thinking about the unanswered text.

They finish their beers and walk outside. “Sorry about that,” Carter says, nodding back at the pub. “Do you want to go somewhere else? Or come back to my place?”

Kurt inhales. “I appreciate the offer,” he says. “And I did have a lovely time tonight, but - I’m pretty tired. I think I need to head home.”

Carter nods, his mouth twisting slightly. “Of course,” he says. “I had a great time, too.”

He steps closer. Kurt shifts back slightly. Carter freezes. “Can I call you?” he asks.

“Definitely,” Kurt replies, forcing himself to smile. It’s been a nice date. Carter seems like a good guy. He should be happy that he wants a second date, but everything has just felt off since they left the restaurant.

“Good,” Carter says gently. “Then I’ll call you. Goodnight, Kurt.”

“Goodnight,” Kurt replies, and then turns to walk to the south. He doesn’t look back to check if Carter is watching him, or if he’s turned the other direction.

Once he’s on the subway platform, waiting for his train, he pulls out his phone. Rereading Sebastian’s text, he grins, giddiness filling his chest. Who do you like best, and why is it Amara? he texts back.

He taps his fingers on the side of his phone and waits for a response. He looks forward to getting back to his apartment, to his bed. He wonders if Sebastian will reply soon, or if he’s busy with other plans tonight.

He glances down the subway tunnel and considers what he’s going to do about Carter. He feels a little bad about ditching him. Carter hadn’t done anything wrong, but if Kurt had spent half the night more occupied with answering a text about reality TV than the conversation they were having, maybe that was a sign it wasn’t meant to be.

His phone vibrates. Amara’s incredible, but JASON? That man is insane and I love his every action.

Kurt rolls his eyes, already tapping out a reply.

.

They’re sitting on a bench in Washington Square, and their knees are a hair’s breadth apart. Kurt’s telling a story about his job, about someone who was incompetent so Kurt had to step in and save the day, and Sebastian’s trying to listen, he is. Kurt is one of the few people that Sebastian knows who can really tell a good story - even the most mundane life events come alive in his words, the stakes always high, the twists always shocking.

But it’s hard to focus on the details of the story when Kurt is sitting so close, when his elbow is propped casually atop the back of the bench, his hand nearly brushing Sebastian’s shoulder as he gestures.

Sebastian wonders about the bounds of acceptable PDA in a friends with benefits situation. In a private space - within the confines of a hotel room, or Kurt’s apartment - it would be perfectly normal for him to rest a hand on Kurt’s thigh, or lean in against his body. Grabbing his hand and squeezing it, even bringing it to his lips, would be a routine gesture.

He’s seen Kurt naked dozens of times, done absolutely filthy things with him - but it would be weird to express some form of physical affection here, right? There was a bizarre inversion of typical procedure; if he leaned in close and mouthed at Kurt’s ear, whispered some indecorous suggestion, that would be reasonable within the definition of their relationship. If he did something entirely chaste, however, like intertwine their fingers, that would be some sort of violation.

But it’s Kurt, and he’s not only unjustly attractive, he’s also - delightful. Sebastian loves being near him. They’re in the same physical space so infrequently, it seems a waste to not spend every second possible touching each other. He wants to press his knee to Kurt’s, or toy with his fingers. The urge to reach out is hard to suppress.

It would complicate things, though. It would bring into question what they’re doing, invite some deeply awkward conversation about what their relationship is. It’s all bullshit - the definitions of romance and partnership and friendship and sexuality are all made up, so it shouldn’t matter whether he acts on his instincts here. But he knows it will matter, and he doesn’t want to rock the boat.

He shifts slightly, nodding along to Kurt’s story, so there’s a little more distance between them. He’ll keep his hands to himself until they’re no longer in public, until he can chalk it up to being horny. Kurt rolls his eyes as he explains his coworker’s actions, and Sebastian grins.

.

Kurt enters the bar, his heart thrumming in his throat as he looks around for Sebastian.

Sebastian has visited New York two or three times a year since moving, and out of those many instances, Kurt can only remember three where they didn’t end up having sex – because Sebastian was too busy for them to meet up, or Kurt himself was out of town or in the middle of a show that took up all of his time and energy.

He spots Sebastian at a table, in the process of removing his suit jacket. He doesn’t have a drink yet – he must have arrived just moments before Kurt. Kurt steels himself, and walks towards Sebastian.

They always have sex when they can because, besides the obvious fact of their mutual attraction, they’re both always single when Sebastian’s in town. Kurt asked Sebastian about it once, when they were comfortably tangled in his bedsheets. “Do you ever date anyone? Like, monogamously?”

Sebastian had shrugged, the movements of his shoulders jostling Kurt slightly. “Not really. I mean, I’ve had a few guys who I’ve seen regularly, and it’s become kind of an ongoing thing. Not just for sex, but going on dates, too. One of them asked to be exclusive eventually, and I told him I just wasn’t interested in that, so he broke it off.”

“And you weren’t upset about that?” Kurt asked.

“I mean, I didn’t love it,” Sebastian replied. “I would’ve liked to keep hanging out with him. But he wanted more than what I could give.”

Kurt, on the other hand, craved romance, commitment, stability. It had just never worked out for him in the long term, leaving him perpetually available whenever Sebastian was in town.

Until now, that is.

Sebastian grins when he notices Kurt, and Kurt greets him with a sort of side-hug, the corner of the table awkwardly in between them. Kurt sits down, facing Sebastian - his face so familiar after so many years, even though he sees it infrequently. Kurt thinks he’s gotten a haircut recently. He looks good. He always looks good.

“I’ll get drinks,” Sebastian says, but Kurt reaches out and grabs his wrist before he can step away from the table.

“Uh, Seb, wait,” he says. “I need to tell you something first.”

Sebastian sits back down, raising an eyebrow. “Okay,” he replies slowly.

Kurt bites the inside of his lip. “I have a boyfriend,” he says.

“Oh,” Sebastian blinks. “Congrats.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says. “Uh, thanks.” He glances down at his hands. “I just - I wanted to tell you upfront, in case that…changes whether you want to hang out tonight.”

He and Tomas have been dating for a couple months, now. He hadn’t said anything about it to Sebastian, because their sporadic text conversations rarely delved into big-life-event territory, and he felt like bringing it up would make it into A Thing, which he didn’t want. But then Sebastian had a trip to New York, and when he asked to meet up Kurt didn’t want to text him sure we can get drinks but I can’t have sex with you anymore. So instead he’d held off until this moment to reveal the truth.

“Kurt,” Sebastian says, sounding a little amused. “Do you think I’m gonna ditch you tonight just because you have a boyfriend now?”

Kurt shrugs. “I just felt like you should…I don’t know, that you shouldn’t spend the night with certain expectations while I know the whole time that sex is off the table.”

“It’s always been off the table,” Sebastian says. “I know how you feel about hard surfaces.”

Kurt laughs, unexpectedly. The joke should probably feel like something off-limits now, but it doesn’t. It loosens the anxiety in his chest a little.

Sebastian looks at him intently. “Look, Kurt, I’m not gonna say I’m not a little disappointed that I can’t hook up with you tonight. But you’re still my friend, and I never get to see you, so obviously I’m not going to abandon you. Now, what do you want to drink? A G&T?”

Kurt exhales. “A martini.”

Sebastian groans as he stands and mutters, “God, how are we so old already?”

Kurt watches as he walks to the bar, smiling to himself. They’ve been doing this weird, long-distance friends with benefits thing for a long time now, and a part of him had worried that this is what would break it. He wouldn’t give up his relationship with Tomas for anything, but he’d been sad at the prospect of losing whatever he had with Sebastian.

Knowing that the friends part of their relationship outweighs the benefits part fills him with a relief he didn’t know to expect. But he’s happy, and Sebastian’s here, and they’ll still have a good night catching up even if it ends completely innocently.

When Sebastian returns, he sets Kurt’s drink down in front of him and settles into his own seat. “All right,” he says, after sipping at his scotch. “Tell me all about the man who finally tied Kurt Hummel down.”

Kurt laughs, joy spilling out of him, and he obliges.

.

Kurt is measuring out almond extract when he hears his phone begin to chime, signaling the end of a timer.

“Can you turn that off?” he asks Tomas, not wanting to lose his focus on the icing he’s making. “I need to check the cookies.”

“Yeah,” Tomas replies, setting down the book he’d been reading. He takes a few steps to pick up Kurt’s phone and stop the alarm. “You have a new text, too, from Sebastian.”

Kurt stutters in his movements, nearly knocking the whole bottle of extract into the bowl. He takes a quick breath, chastising himself for panicking. There is literally nothing to panic about.

“Okay, thanks,” he says. He finishes stirring the icing, checking its consistency and then scooping up a tiny bit to taste it - perfect.

“Who’s Sebastian, again?” Tomas asks. “Is he a college friend?”

There’s nothing accusatory in his tone, only genuine curiosity. That’s been the joy of getting to know each other over the past several months, discovering each other’s lives and pasts with delight. Kurt learned about the complex web of drama between Tomas’s mother and her sisters, knows the names of his best friends from high school, heard about the neighbor who used to babysit him and then, years later, offered to sell him weed. In turn, he’s regaled Tomas with glee club stories and NYADA absurdity, talked endlessly about his dad, described the most vulnerable and challenging moments of growing up in Lima. They love to learn new things about each other.

“No, I met him after college,” Kurt says, turning around to face his boyfriend. “Just through mutual friends in New York. He moved away, though, he’s in Rhode Island now.”

“Cool,” Tomas says. He’s wearing a very cozy-looking sweater, and Kurt has the urge to bundle him up in a hug, hold him close. “Do you need to take the cookies out?”

“Yes!” Kurt exclaims, turning towards the oven.

It’s half an hour later, when they’re settled on the couch eating a few of the cookies, that Kurt musters the courage to bring it up again. He doesn’t want to talk about it, but he knows he needs to be honest with Tomas, he wants to be honest. “So, you know Sebastian?”

Tomas smiles. “Very vaguely.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Yeah, um. I just wanted to tell you that, we are just friends, but we used to hook up sometimes, when he was in town.”

“Oh,” Tomas says, wiping a crumb from the corner of his mouth. “Okay.”

“It was totally casual, though,” Kurt insists. “When I saw him last I told him about you, so. He knows that’s over.”

Tomas blinks. “You’ve seen him recently?”

“A few weeks ago,” Kurt replies. Probably he should have told Tomas at the time, but seeing Sebastian in the first place had sort of blindsided him, and it just seemed simpler to deal with it on his own, to keep it all separate. “We don’t really talk that much. Like, the last time he texted me before I saw him,” he said, grabbing his phone and opening his messages to check, “was last August.” He turns the phone so Tomas can see the screen. He’s being transparent. In fact, he could let Tomas read his entire text history with Sebastian and it would probably be fine. Tomas might not even recognize the moments of flirtation between them - he communicates in such a different way. He’s so genuine and kind, he’d probably read Sebastian’s teasing and insults just as mean.

“Okay, okay,” Tomas says, pushing Kurt’s phone away from him. “It’s fine, hon. I appreciate you telling me. Seems like it’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says with a shrug. “Exactly.”

And that isn’t a lie, but it also doesn’t feel quite like the truth. 

.

The red glow of Sebastian’s alarm clock shows a time just past 1am when he’s woken by the persistent buzzing of his phone. He blearily picks it up off the nightstand, and sees the name emblazoned across the screen: Kurt Hummel.

“What the fuck?” he whispers to his empty room. He and Kurt have spoken on the phone only a handful of times, almost always when Sebastian was in New York and they were making logistical plans that were just easier to do over the phone than by text. They’ve never called one another out of the blue, and certainly not at one in the morning on a Tuesday. Or, Wednesday, now.

Baffled and mildly concerned, Sebastian answers the call. “Hello?”

“Sebastian?” It’s Kurt’s voice, but there’s something slippery about it.

“Yeah,” Sebastian confirms.

“Hey, you like my body, right?”

Sebastian rolls onto his back. His eyes have adjusted enough that he can make out his ceiling. “Your body is great, Kurt.” Is this an invitation for phone sex? Kurt has to be drunk, right? “Are you okay?”

“And you like having sex with me,” Kurt goes on, ignoring the question. “I’m good at sex, right?”

Sebastian scrubs a hand over his face. “Kurt.”

“Sebastian,” he whines back.

Sebastian takes a deep breath. “I wouldn’t have been hooking up with you every time I’m in New York for the past six years or whatever if you weren’t really fucking good in bed.”

There’s a little pride in Kurt’s voice when he responds. “Good. That’s what I thought.”

Sebastian is suddenly annoyed - he knows now that his workday is going to suck, because he’s fully awake, and all for what? Kurt Hummel needs a little midnight ego boost? “Why did you call, Kurt?”

There’s a pause, and what sounds like a shaky breath. “Tomas broke up with me.”

Sebastian freezes, his frustration immediately giving way to guilt. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says softly. “Me too.”

Sebastian tries to remember how long they’d been together - a year, maybe? “Tonight?” Sebastian asks, surprised that Kurt would be so quick to tell him.

“No,” Kurt replies. “A week ago.”

He’s not accustomed to placating heartbroken people. “Well,” he manages. “Like I said, you’re a total sex god, so sounds like it’s his loss.”

Kurt laughs, and then sniffles. “I knew you’d be honest with me,” Kurt says, and something twists in Sebastian’s chest. “I just thought this was gonna be real. I thought it would last.”

“It did last,” Sebastian says softly. “For a while. Several thousand times longer than my most significant relationship.”

“Still not long enough, though.”

Sebastian doesn’t know what to say to that, and so it’s quiet for a bit. He can hear Kurt breathing over the line, and he wonders if Kurt can hear his own breaths. There’s something unbearably intimate about it.

“Were you asleep?” Kurt asks.

“Yes.”

“Were you dreaming?”

Sebastian closes his eyes. “I don’t remember.”

A beat. “I had a dream about you, the other night.”

He blinks, the ceiling above him the same as always. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Kurt replies, and his voice seems stronger now. “We were at Grand Central. Well - other people were there, too, and you weren’t there the whole time. I think you had a train to catch.”

“That sounds like me.”

Kurt snorts. “Yeah, it does.”

They keep talking about dreams - their recurring nightmares, their most elaborate dreams, their best sex dreams. Sebastian stays on the line until Kurt starts yawning, and finally says he needs to go to sleep.

“Thank you,” he says. “You shouldn’t have picked up.”

“I’m glad I did,” Sebastian replies, and he means it.

.

They meet in a coffee shop. It’s cramped, bustling, loud - it’s an evening in Manhattan. The table they sit at is so small that Sebastian keeps accidentally brushing against Kurt’s leg. It starts accidentally, at least.

Kurt looks good. He’s animated as they discuss their jobs, and television, and retell entertaining stories from their lives over the past few months. They don’t talk about dating, or about Kurt’s breakup. He doesn’t seem fragile, though. Maybe enough time has passed, or maybe Kurt just bounces back quickly. They’ve never acknowledged that late night call shortly after the breakup, but Sebastian knows Kurt remembers. He wasn’t that drunk or that tired.

Someone passes by them, coffee in hand, and jostles the table. The environment is chaotic, and the already-rushed meeting feels all the more constrained.

Sebastian’s in New York for less than forty-eight hours. He got in last night, and he’s leaving early tomorrow morning. He has dinner with a client tonight, at a steakhouse in midtown. Technically, all the meetings he had today could have been done over the phone, but his supervisor wanted him to go in person. Sebastian’s charm doesn’t translate as well in a conference call.

He texted Kurt when he knew he was coming, but he only has a tiny window of time to see him. A little over an hour, crammed in between work and dinner. Based on the client, he doesn’t think he’s going to get away from the meal early - and then there’s that flight in the morning.

It’s so easy, how he and Kurt fall back into the comfort of their friendship, the back-and-forth of their teasing conversation. Sebastian says something mean and Kurt smacks him on the arm. Sebastian puts all his willpower into not grabbing onto Kurt’s wrist when he pulls back.

He checks his watch. He has to leave in twenty minutes, that’s the absolute latest he can push this. He watches Kurt as he talks, the curve of his smile and the light in his eyes. Would he be up for a quickie in a cafe bathroom? He doesn’t seem the type. They’ve only ever had sex in private, but god, the idea of tugging Kurt down the hall, locking the door behind them, pressing him up against the wall and sinking to his knees…

Ten minutes. Have Kurt’s lips always looked so appealing? Sebastian tries to focus on the conversation. This is all he’s going to get for months. Kurt wouldn’t be offended if he just asked, would he? But fuck, he doesn’t have any condoms with him. Has he ever been so frustrated by a situation like this?

“I’m sorry,” he says, standing up, adjusting his slacks (do not get a boner before a work meeting, Smythe). “I really have to go.”

Kurt’s mouth twists to one side, resigned. “Yeah, I understand.”

They walk out together, and hug goodbye, and then Kurt’s gone.

Sebastian gets into a cab and recites the address the client gave him for the restaurant. New York seems to move past him too fast. He should have just been late to dinner, he should have tried something - but it’s too late now.

.

Excitement buzzes through Sebastian’s veins as he makes his way to meet Kurt. He’s done with work, and he’s taking the next day off, extending his trip for a day - on his own dime. Partially that’s so he can meet up with Devin and his girlfriend while he’s in the area, but he’s also hopeful it means he’ll have more time with Kurt. Maybe they can spend the night together and not have to rush off in the morning, sleep in and grab breakfast somewhere. He’s sure Kurt will have strong opinions about breakfast restaurants.

The bar they meet at is crowded, especially for a weeknight. Kurt comments pessimistically that it must have just been featured in a TimeOut article or something. They have to practically shout to be heard over the chatter, and Sebastian can tell that Kurt is tense, annoyed. Once they’re finishing their first drinks Sebastian says, “You wanna get out of here?” and Kurt happily agrees.

They step outside into the humid night air, damp but no longer unbearably warm now that the sun has gone down. The light of the streetlamps shines over them, casting dark shadows over Kurt’s features, making him look mysterious and imposing.

“You wanna brave another bar,” Sebastian asks, “or do you just wanna go back to my room?”

Kurt looks at him, and there seems to be something tight about his eyes. “Where’s your hotel?”

“It’s like a twenty-minute walk,” he replies. “We don’t have to.”

It’s not awkward between them, exactly, but there is something…uncertain. Sebastian’s not sure what the rules of this game are anymore.

“No, it’s fine,” Kurt says firmly. “We can go.”

So they walk to the hotel, and in the relative peace of the streets they can actually hold a conversation, picking up where they left off in the bar. Sebastian only had the one drink, but he can feel it, everything a little warm and buzzing, a little clumsier, a little quicker to laugh. He hasn’t been going to clubs as much as he used to, and clearly his alcohol tolerance reflects that.

Once they’re up in his room, they both sit on the edge of the bed - there’s nowhere else for two people to sit. They take their shoes off as they talk, and Sebastian undoes the top buttons of his dress shirt. Not as a come on, necessarily, just because it’s uncomfortable.

He watches the way Kurt’s eyes flicker down at his newly-revealed skin.

Okay, maybe it’s sort of a come on.

They seem to slide closer to each other as they talk, the mattress dipping under their combined weight. Kurt folds his leg underneath him and his knee rests against Sebastian’s thigh. Sebastian mixes up the words in his sentence, his tongue thick and his mind distracted, so Kurt teases him for it, making some joke about all those private school elocution classes gone to waste.

Sebastian leans in, tired of talking, so ready to cut to the chase. He pauses a centimeter from Kurt’s lips, still level-headed enough to know that he needs to give Kurt the chance to pull back if he doesn’t want this, if somehow Sebastian has completely misread all the signs leading up to this moment.

Kurt presses forward, closing the distance and kissing him viciously. It’s hard and intense and artless and so, so good. Sebastian lies back, pushed against the bed at Kurt’s urging. He gasps as Kurt sucks along his jaw and neck, scraping his teeth against his exposed collarbone.

When he pulls away to take off his own shirt, Kurt’s eyes are dark and full of fire.

They don’t talk much, during. They’re too desperate for anything more than rutting against each other, chasing friction with help from hands and lube until they tumble into a sated heap.

After catching breaths and half-hearted cleaning up, Kurt is lying back against the headboard. Sebastian has settled lower on the bed, his fingers tracing idle shapes against Kurt’s outer thigh.

“You know,” Kurt says, and Sebastian looks up at him. His hair is sweat-damp, skin pleasantly flushed. “After the last time we saw each other, and we didn’t have sex…” He glances away for a moment, shrugs. “I sort of thought this was over.”

Sebastian stills his hand, resting it on Kurt’s knee. “No, I just - I really didn’t have time. I thought I was clear about that.”

“Could have been an excuse,” Kurt says mildly.

Sebastian kisses Kurt’s leg, hair rough against his lips. “I don’t anticipate ever not wanting to have sex with you if that’s an option. If that changes, I’ll be upfront with you about it.”

Kurt smiles. “Okay, deal.”

.

The doorbell buzzes, and Kurt swears under his breath, his reflection showing his expression of frustration. He’s not ready to leave yet. Is Sebastian early, or did Kurt linger too long when picking his outfit?

He leaves the bathroom and walks over to the intercom. “Seb?” he says into it. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Yeah, sure you will,” Sebastian replies, clearly doubtful. “Just let me up, I can entertain myself while you finish primping.”

Annoyed - more so at the fact that Sebastian could see through him than at his tone - Kurt buzzes Sebastian in, and returns to his mirror to try rushing through the rest of his preparations. He feels a little off-kilter, thrown off after Sebastian’s text a few days ago, asking to meet this afternoon. It’s the middle of the day during the week, and Kurt’s grown accustomed to seeing Sebastian only late in the day, meeting up after he’s done with work.

A minute later there’s a knock at the door, and Kurt goes to open it.

Sebastian is wearing a black polo shirt and jeans, an easy smile on his face. It’s the most casual Kurt has seen him in years - typically when they’re in person together, Sebastian is either still in work clothes or completely undressed. This in-between stage is just another thing that feels unusual about today, although Kurt’s not sure if he and Sebastian have ever had a baseline for what’s ‘normal’ between them.

“I didn’t know I was inviting a frat boy into my home,” Kurt says in lieu of a greeting, even though Sebastian actually looks very, very good in the polo. “Are you playing hooky from work?”

Sebastian’s grin grows. “I’m not here for work, actually.”

Kurt leans his weight onto the doorframe and crosses his arms. “On vacation, then?”

“I’m actually here to look at apartments.”

Kurt blinks. “Apartments?”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, a silent challenge. “Yeah.”

Kurt still isn’t sure if he understands. “Like, in New York?” he asks. “You’re moving back to New York?”

“Looks like it.”

Kurt stands up fully, and as he meets Sebastian’s eyes he feels the thrumming energy between them, the unexpected joy at this revelation. He bites his lip and shakes his head. “You know,” he says, a sardonic lilt to his voice, “I don’t know if this is gonna work. I’ve grown so used to seeing you in small doses. I might not like you if you’re around all the time.”

Sebastian schools his smile into a more serious expression. “You know I worried about the same thing. I just have this feeling that all of your endearing quirks are actually gonna be insufferable once I’m living in the same city.”

There’s something light expanding in Kurt’s chest as he reasons, “Well, it’s a big place, New York. We might never run into each other.”

Sebastian nods. “Great point. You wanna just keep meeting every five months or so?”

“No, you idiot,” Kurt says, dropping the game. No teasing or innuendo, no genuine feelings couched in jokes or insults. He reaches out to grab Sebastian by the elbow and pull him into the apartment. “I want to see you all the fucking time.”

.

“This is so boring,” Sebastian says, hovering behind Kurt as he looks at a display of local honey.

“You didn’t have to come,” Kurt says mildly. “You could have stayed in bed when I left.”

The farmer’s market around them is bustling, couples pushing strollers, people walking dogs or examining vegetables to put in their tote bags. It seems aggressively sunny outside, and Sebastian wishes he’d thought to bring his sunglasses. “You bribed me,” he tells Kurt, holding up his nearly-empty cup from the coffee shop they’d stopped at on the way, his favorite place near Kurt’s apartment. 

“I could have brought you something back,” Kurt replies, moving down the table to look at the baked goods for sale. 

Sebastian scoffs. “Cold, hour-old espresso? No thanks.”

Kurt turns to face him and cups Sebastian’s jaw, but his expression makes it clear that the gesture is more warning than affection. “Then be glad about your fancy coffee and stop bitching.”

It’s probably not healthy that Kurt making threats in a very polite tone of voice sends a thrill down Sebastian’s spine, but he revels in it all the same. He gives Kurt a sarcastic smile, which is apparently satisfactory, as Kurt pulls away and continues walking down the path. They pass booths selling various items, and Sebastian sips on the last of his coffee while Kurt chatters about what he plans on making for dinner. 

Now that he lives in New York again, Sebastian has a smaller office and a more cramped apartment. He gave up his car, relying instead on the disgusting and inconsistent labyrinth of the MTA or the cab drivers battling against New York traffic. The city is loud and crowded and inconvenient.

He loves being back.

He finds he doesn’t miss Providence much, now that he’s settled in, even though he lived there for longer than he ever lived in New York before. He made some friends there, coworkers and neighbors and people who frequented the queer bars, but he doesn’t feel terrible leaving them behind. He’s generally been content to have people drift in and out of his life, to know people in certain contexts and then let them go when the time calls for it. He’s not used to long-standing connections with other people.

Kurt finds a fruit stand and pores over the berries, picking out a basket to take home. He offers it to Sebastian as they walk, and he takes a few blackberries to pop into his mouth, a burst of sweet flavor.

This isn’t what he imagined for himself, walking through stalls selling organic produce and handmade soaps on a Saturday morning. If the Sebastian from ten years ago could see him now, he might be completely baffled. Sebastian’s confused about it himself, sometimes. But despite all the drawbacks, he doesn’t regret returning to New York. He’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop, to get tired of this life and want to find something new, to return to the more unpredictable or chaotic habits of his past. But so far, even the boring parts are worth it.

They turn a corner into a more crowded area, having to weave carefully through bystanders. Sebastian reaches out and takes Kurt’s hand in his, holding firmly, to keep him by his side.

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