#'and they were roommates' but it's 'and they were stuck in cohabitation together'

[merakiui]

he says this now and yet……. :) just you wait, azul. your mind will change hehe.

#meraki mumbles #'and they were roommates' but it's 'and they were stuck in cohabitation together' #you and azul hate each other but that just means the sex will be that much yummier >:) #i hope everyone is ready to see azul try and fail embarrassingly at octopus courtship <3 #rook: it's okay roi d'effort!! do not lose hope! your mate will come around eventually :D #jade: how unfortunate... even your own species doesn't want you (fake pout fake sympathy)

[aeor-is-for-reccing]

Moving in Together: A Shadowgast rec list

This week, we have cohabitation!  Check under the cut for 13 fics that feature Caleb and Essek moving in or living together, and don't forget to comment and kudos if you like them!

I was the match and you were the rock by glittergarbage (70470, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek, a new researcher to Nicodranas, is financially cut off from his den and is in search of a roommate. He comes across an ad by a male professor in his 30's that looks like a good fit.

Reccer says: The "and they were roommates" trope is so brilliantly done in this fic! As a bonus it is a fantastic slow burn.

Just the Essentials by ThreeGremlinsInATrenchcoat (6684, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek wants to read a book in peace and secret and Caleb is trying to figure out why. Just both of them being very cute with language shenanigans.

Reccer says: It is domestic, funny, very well written and sweet. I also just love the language shenanigans and Essek being the worst liar ever.

Harvest Close Harpins by Beauteousmajesty (1770, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb and Essek coming home after celebrating the Harvest Close festival.

Reccer says: They are so sweet and domestic in this!

Keys to the Castle by Anonymous (51812, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb gives Essek a magic key that lets him access the Tower from anywhere in Exandria. Except it's not a tower, its a cottage. And it takes them a stupidly long time (affectionate) to be honest about their feelings.

Reccer says: Very cute and domestic slow burn, with a pinch of misunderstanding for spice

Troublemaker by SaltCore (1309, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb’s newly adopted kitten gets her claws stuck in Essek’s yarn.

Reccer says: It’s so cute!

learning all the old things by hanap (1353, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek cooks for Caleb.

Reccer says: I liked it!

little labels (I love you) by royalgreen (409, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek and Caleb are being sweet, domestic, and drunk at their house warming party.

Reccer says: They are very soft and sweet together.

Organizing: Before and After by sansrecourse (1255, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek is unused to sharing a space.

Reccer says: Domestic fluff!

A Pretty Facade by Chiaroscuro (18733, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: None

Caleb and Essek buy a house together. As friends.

Reccer says: It’s so sweet ahh

[Name], The Wonder Cat by Professor_Rye (10020, General) Reccer's Content Notes: None

Caleb and Essek get a moorbounder together and work on training it. Several names are worked through to find the perfect one for it.

Reccer says: Just the whole thing honestly. Very wholesome and sweet and a good pick me up.

and i never will be by burningafterdark (burningdarkfire) (3200, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Banter after dinner leads to Essek domming Caleb.

Reccer says: It’s so domestic, hot and intimate. I love their D/s dynamic in this with Caleb being needy and hungry.

You'd be surprised what your own hands can make by Technojuicebox (6329, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Slowly, without speaking of it, Essek moves in with Caleb. Featuring knitting.

Reccer says: I love Essek knitting for all his friends and the world building of Dynasty lace knitting!

And the following fic received two recs!

a sort of beacon where there used to be a dull roar by wordonawing (8781, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

After narrowly surviving an assassination attempt, Essek moves in with Caleb for a time to recuperate. Several thousand words of delightful pining and idiocy ensue.

Reccer 1 says: I liked it!

Reccer 2 says: There's so much thought put into all their interactions

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back with older favourites!

#shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #critical role #cr fic recs #fan fiction rec list #aeor is for lovers #critical role fan fiction #cr fic #cr fics

[titanicfreija]

Trying with new-met Thomas and Freija

Ammo aplenty to be recovered, but no guns in sight, the fireteam scavenged the pile of goods strewn from a camp that changed hands from human to whichever Eliksni House to whichever Uluran faction to whichever Eliksni House again before the Guardians reclaimed it. Thomas dug through the wreckage of a ketch wedded so forcibly to a thresher it probably happened midair. His fireteam, another Warlock assigned by the vanguard and a new Titan friend, dug around in other piles.

"You're not bad on the Strikes, but I can see the green," he remarked to Freija. This was the fourth time they worked together and by now had a decent combat chemistry that honed into an efficient, if hot, cleaning crew. The fire would send most creatures running, and the hardest part was avoiding the goods they were trying to liberate.

"What's that mean?" She looked to her ghost, who wheeled, and they looked to Thomas from their salvage pile.

"Green means new or young. Old phrase referring to soft new branches on a tree, hard to break and bend, and still green just under the skin." He wasn't looking at them and didn't feel the slightest scrutiny. This pile was a whole box of empty tin cans.

"I'm still new? Yeah. Ish. I like to think I'm a little better than I was."

"I have no doubt you are. My early days were. Uh. Embarrassing. Shut up, Rex."

The third of their number waved at them. Their comms were on a different channel, so their ghost popped up. "Hey! Give us a hand!"

Freija and Thomas made their ways over to see a massive jet engine that might be in working condition. The Warlock pointed at it, then pointed to a spot on the ground away from its housing rubble. Their ghost said, "Help move it clear so I can send it to the Tower."

Looking it over, Thomas determined they'd have to clear off the top before they got started, or else pull with something at a distance so nothing would land on them.

Before he could say anything, Freija wedged herself between the junk and the engine, and he barely cast his rift before she pushed.

Tons of steel slammed noisily as it tumbled, kicking up dust and sending parts flying and rolling. Thomas had to swat away some of the bigger shrapnel and several shards were caught by the overshield.

The oil kept the dust cloud small, so the survival of their teammate was not left to question-- the pile of metal had landed directly on top of her and there was no sign of movement.

The ghost worked her way out with a groan of frustration. "Sorry, I didn't realize what she was doing until too late." Freija appeared in a shower of scrap as she flung it off herself and leapt to her feet. "Sorry!"

The silent Warlock made a show of laughing, and Freija responded with animatedly brushing herself clean. As one, the three guardians climbed to the top to clear the remaining mess so the Titan could try again without killing herself.

Thomas put in superficial help dragging the engine into place, mildly embarrassed that the Titan made it look so easy. "How long have you been in the Tower? Still running in orbit with the rest of the ring?" he asked. "I know a lot of people will drift along with gravity instead of landing, it looks like a ring from the moon. And Mars."

"I like Nessus, and Failsafe likes the company, so sometimes I'll land and camp there." Freija didn't seem to think anything of lifting the enormous engine to free up a stuck plate.

Thomas dug into the new available scrap to distract himself from the envy. And attraction. Rex chided him for his taste but he could hardly hear it anymore.

"Considered barracks in the Tower? It's pretty much a rule to cohabitate, they're set for three people. We lost a roommate to a relationship a while back and have an empty room. No one snitches if you don't have a fireteam, but it's frowned upon to have the space, they tend to assign at random. Figure you'd be a better option."

"We? You and your ghost?"

"Hunter buddy. She just uses it for storage, mostly, I don't think she even has a bed in her room. We call her Three, I don't remember her given name. Grenade launcher connoisseur, kinda cheesy with the grim and brooding Hunter thing, but she's ancient so I figure it's not just put on. Sweet lady once you get to know what sweet is from her."

"Freija's one of those," teased the ghost. "We can talk more about it later."

#destiny 2 #d2 #ocs #writing #Thomas #freija #head canon

[theringers]

friends with benefits - charles leclerc

summary: type A planner best friend lives with no thoughts head empty best friend and they decide to start sleeping together

request: 37 , 70, 78 w charles😃

prompts: 37) “Please? I'll be good, I promise!" 70) “we’re just…friends.” “friends don’t do this type of shit!” 78) “Not to make things weird, but I thought about you when I came last night.”

a/n: charles, head empty no thoughts just his hot roommate and his inability to keep things to himself

warnings: nsfw, 18+, angst kinda, friends to fuck buddies, oral sex

“Could you uhhhhh do me a favor?” You asked Charles. The fuzzy blanket was draped over both of you and he was about to press play on the movie.

His eyes rolled. “What do you need, my love?” He asked in a sarcastic tone.

“Can you maybe make some popcorn?” You tried to slow your words down a bit, for some reason thinking he would be more inclined to say yes if you asked like that.

He exhaled loudly. “Fine.” He tossed the blanket over to you so he could get up off the couch. “But only because now you’ve got that thought in my mind and I want it.”

“If doing things for yourself instead of me makes you feel better, that’s okay with me.” You smiled. This was a typical weeknight for the two of you.

You were a self proclaimed movie critic. Charles just got stuck with a self proclaimed movie critic as a roommate, but it made for some entertaining nights.

The two of you met in high school and immediately formed a bond. Everything between you two was easygoing and laid back, which he loved. He was never a huge people person or party type and neither were you.

You found peace in each other’s silent company and eventually realized you had more in common than you first thought. That following summer, you did practically everything together. Charles had a couple girlfriends here and there and you had a couple boyfriends as well, but it didn’t really matter. Nothing ever stuck.

College rolled around and you weren’t sure what to do. You wanted to stay in Monaco close to your family, but you just couldn’t live at home anymore. Lucky for you, Charles offered to let you move into his spare bedroom until you could make a decision. It had been years and you were still in that spare bedroom. The thought of moving out and doing something different hadn’t crossed your mind since the day you moved in.

“Do you want butter or no butter?” He asked from the kitchen, hands full of popcorn bags.

“Come on is that even a question?”

“Right. Butter. Lots of it.” He threw the bag into the microwave and it started to pop.

He came back with a bowl full of steaming popcorn and handed it to you.

“Be careful it’s,” he looked at you to see your mouth wide open and steam coming out, “hot.”

“Almost hotter than you,” you said once you caught your breath.

He rolled his eyes and fake laughed. “Hilarious, y/n.”

“I’m being serious.”

“C’mon, we’ve talked about this.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I think you’re hot,” you said. Every time this was brought up, he got so flustered. Which was why you continued to joke around with him and flirt with him. He would never act on it.

“Y/n…. I’m gonna go to bed if you keep this up.” He was annoyed.

“I’m sorry. Please stay? I’ll be good, I promise.” You batted your eyelashes at him.

“Fine, but you gotta stop,” he said, pulling your legs onto his lap so you could lounge more comfortably.

A rom-com was playing on the TV and the sound of munching on popcorn was filling the room.

A long distance relationship played out on the screen. Lots of phone calls, lots of phone sex, lots of jerking off to each other’s photos. You shifted in your seat, trying to seem casual and not uncomfortable.

“Not to make things weird, but I thought about you when I came last night.” You stopped shifting and looked at Charles.

“So much for ‘we’ve talked about this’.” You held up air quotes. “Care to elaborate?” He was known for saying out of pocket things. Sometimes you weren’t sure if he fully thought things through before he said them.

“I mean, not really. The movie just reminded me of it.”

You couldn’t think of a response quick enough so he continued to talk. “You always say whatever’s on your mind so I thought I might try it out.”

“You don’t do that enough already?”

“I’m trying to be more honest.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes at him. “I applaud you for that. But you can’t just leave me hanging like this.”

“Don’t hate me, that’s all I’m going to say.” His hand rubbed up and down your shins that were resting on his lap.

“I could never hate you, Charles.”

“Last night when you took a shower, you left the bathroom door wide open. I was just walking back to my room from the kitchen, I didn’t mean to-”

You laughed and interrupted him. “Charles, it’s okay. That’s my fault.”

“I just glanced, I promise. But I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind. And my cock was still really hard after a while.”

“You knew I was awake, you should have come to my room,” you said. It sounded good in theory but if you were being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t know what to do if he showed up at your bedroom door with a boner.

“We’re just friends though. Friends don’t do that type of shit.” He took a deep breath and looked off in the distance. Anything to avoid eye contact.

“Says who?” He looked at you and tilted his head in confusion. “A lot of friends do that type of shit. There’s even a word for it.”

“Have you thought about this before?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t… Charles, we’re two young twenty somethings that live together. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about what it would be like if we were sleeping together.”

“I don’t mean this in a bad way but I honestly didn’t think about it until I saw you.”

“Maybe it’s just the hopeless romantic in me.” You had thought about what a perfect storyline it would make for you two to sleep together but never the reality of actually getting into bed with him. Now that made you nervous.

“More like the horny romantic”

“Very funny…” You tossed a piece of popcorn at him and he swatted it away.

“So, are we doing this thing?” He turned his attention from the TV to you.

“Tell me you didn’t just actually ask me that question.” He was blunt and never beat around the bush.

“I did, and I would like an answer, please.” You wanted to smack that stupid smile off of his face for how he was making you feel.

“What’s this thing?” He needed to spell it out.

“Are you,” he pointed to you, “going to let me,” his finger moved to himself, “inside of you?”

You burst out laughing. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty. We need to set some ground rules for this.”

“Rules?” He didn’t look like he was a fan of rules. And as his roommate, you knew he wasn’t a fan of them. Just ask the groceries you’ve gone shopping for two months in a row.

“Our friendship, our cohabitation, you know. I’m not just going to let you go willy nilly on me without making sure you aren’t going to leave me friendless or homeless after.” Nothing could be done with you unless it was carefully planned. All possible outcomes had to be thought through.

“I would never leave you friendless or homeless.”

“Even if I was the worst person at sex, in the world, ever?”

“I highly doubt you’re the worst, but even if you were.”

“You’d still fuck me, even if everyone in the entire world was better than me. Damn I’m lucky.”

“Here’s a rule for you. You need to tell me how it feels. I’ll fuck you however you want to be fucked so you better tell me when something feels good.” Charles said.

“I can do that. If you like something I do, tell me. If you don’t, tell me.” You talked a big game but telling Charles how he made you feel sexually made your spine tingle, and you weren’t sure if it was anxiety or desire.

“I doubt there’s anything you can do to my body that I won’t like.” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. He was a guy after all.

“You wanna bet?” You asked, lunging at him jokingly.

“Sure, I’d like to see you try.”

“I guess I will, then.” You just needed time to plan it first.

He stood up and held out his hand for you to take. “Now that we’ve talked about it, I can’t get it off my mind.”

“You want to do this, right now?” Panic set in. This was too sudden.

“Right now,” he said, confidently. “If, that’s what you want, of course.”

“Okay.” You followed him into the hallway, bypassing your bedroom and ending up in his.

You took a few shy steps around, like you’d never been in there before. “Do you want to get on top or do you want me to?”

“Y/n…” He needed you to just relax and let go.

“Right, right, let’s just do it.” You took a step forward and he grabbed your face in his hands. Your lips moved with his, feeling soft and warm. There was only so much in your life you could plan. This was never part of it.

He slowly guided you to his bed and gently pushed you backwards. His shirt slid over his head and you admired his body, looking at him in a different light. He never took his shirt off around you with sexual intentions but this was new. And fun.

You smiled at him, both of you acknowledging what you were about to do. It made you explode inside thinking about how much you were enjoying this, letting someone else take control and letting go. You shouldn’t be enjoying this, you thought. Snap out of it.

“Before we start, is there anything you really don’t like?” He asked, reaching for the button of your denim shorts. You nodded side to side, giving him permission to pull the shorts down your legs.

He immediately pulled your thong aside and slipped a finger between your folds. He smiled feeling the wetness. “Thinking about us fucking is turning you on, isn’t it?”

“Don’t embarrass me,” you shot him a look and he understood.

“I’m not embarrassing you. It’s sexy.” He kneeled between your legs on the floor.

“Well, keep it to yourself,” you said.

“Why would I keep it to myself when I have physical proof that thinking about us is turning you on?” One of his fingers easily slid inside of you and your hips shifted as you rolled your eyes at him. “Is this okay?” He asked, concerned by your movements.

“Yes,” you said, unsure of what else to say. You didn’t want to give him any more ammo to make fun of you. You told each other everything but this was one side of you he never saw, and you didn’t think he ever would. Vulnerability at its finest, but you agreed to this.

His finger moved in and out of you and the sounds of your wet pussy made you want to cover your face and hide. He added a second and slowly curled his fingers up to hit your g-spot. A soft moan escaped your lips despite the fact that you were trying hard to keep them to yourself.

“Tell me how it feels.” He said.

“It feels,” you took a moment to breathe in, “so good.” He used his other hand to play with your clit, causing you more pleasure. You were looking at the ceiling, finding it hard to acknowledge that Charles was the one making you feel like this. If you squeezed your eyes shut hard enough, maybe this wouldn’t be something you needed to worry about.

A euphoric feeling began to build in your stomach, your legs slowly going numb in the best way possible. You continued to try and hold in your moans but when you hit your climax, everything was uncontrollable. Your body jerked and moans fell as you rode out your high.

You opened your eyes to see Charles pulling his fingers out and smiling. He made you feel that way and while you lay half naked on his bed post-orgasm, it was starting to feel okay. How much more vulnerable could you get with him than this?

He stood up and pulled his sweatpants off, his hard cock springing out of his cotton boxers. Your jaw dropped and you couldn’t help but stare as he stroked himself, preparing for you. He noticed, but ignored it, granting your request of not embarrassing you. The look he shot you was enough to know that he was aware of your stares.

“I’m only gonna say it one more time,” he said, leaning on top of you with his hands on either side of your head. “You need to tell me how it feels, or I’m going to start talking really dirty with you.”

You laughed, feeling more relaxed than before. “I almost want to keep quiet on purpose just to see that.”

He dipped his head in disappointment. “Not funny.”

“I think I’m pretty funny.”

“You are, but I want to make you feel good. I’d rather know then instead of you telling me I sucked after.”

“Okay, okay,” you obliged. He nodded and positioned himself at your entrance, slowly pushing himself inside of you.

You had to adjust to his size - his dick was nothing like his fingers. He didn’t give you much time before he started moving and you didn’t even care. He felt so good inside of you and seeing his body on top of you was putting you at ease rather than stressing you out, like you had expected it to.

His head rested in the crook of your neck, giving you perfect access to his ear. Almost like he did it on purpose, to make you more comfortable. You didn’t have to look at him in the eyes and admit how good he was making you feel. “Your dick feels so good,” you whispered in his ear and he grunted in response.

“You’re so tight, fuck,” he said into your ear, slightly nibbling on the lobe.

His hips moved rhythmically while you lifted your feet onto his back to change the angle. You couldn’t help but let more moans slip out at the feeling. “I think I’m gonna cum,” you said, quietly.

“Let go,” he said followed by a few expletives. His pelvis ground into you, creating a sensation on your clit you’ve never experienced.

You felt your second orgasm of the night build up as he continued to fuck you, keeping the same pace. You held your hands on his back and let moans fall to his ear making sure he knew how good you felt.

He pulled out of you and your body felt like deadweight. You were glued to the bed and couldn’t find the energy to get up. “How was that?” He asked. Of course he couldn’t give you a second to recover before opening his mouth.

“Great,” you smiled, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Did you finish?” You sure hadn’t felt him cum inside of you and you don’t think he wore a condominium either.

“No, but I just wanted to make sure you felt good.” He picked his sweatpants up off the floor and went to put his boxers back on before you stopped him.

“Unacceptable. I’m not going to let you jerk off thinking about me two nights in a row. Especially not after I was just naked in your bed.” Your post-orgasm confidence was showing when you dropped to your knees in front of him and took his still hard cock in your hand.

Slick juices still covered it, making it easier for you once you took him in your mouth. He was bigger than you expected, so you started swirling your tongue around the tip while your hand worked at the rest of him. “Shit,” you could hear him say.

You slowly took more of him, hollowing out your cheeks in response to his moans. His hand found the back of your head but rested there, not wanting to pressure you for more but he couldn’t resist once you fit almost all of him in your mouth.

The sounds he made caused butterflies in your stomach knowing that you were the sole reason for those sounds. His grip got tighter on you and he started to thrust into you when you felt a warm liquid shoot down your throat.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he grunted while you took every last drop. You stood up and took a step back, swiping your finger over your bottom lip.

He looked at you with the same eyes you looked at him after he finished fucking you. “So, uh,” he said. “Where do we go from here?”

You nervously looked around the room. “Should we finish the movie?”

“Great idea.”

You both put your clothes back on and sat back on the couch. “Let’s talk about that.” He never knew when to shut up, but sometimes it was for the better.

“What about it?”

“Did you like it? Should we do it again? Do you want to move out?” You laughed at his last question.

“It was really good,” you said, your thoughts wandering to just a few moments ago. You wouldn’t mind having him on top of you again. “We might as well.”

“Just one more thing,” he said. “Don’t fall in love with me.” He smiled and let out a giggle. You weren’t sure if he was being serious or not, but you laughed along too.

#f1 imagine #charles leclerc smut #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 blurb #smut prompts #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #cl

[falcqns]

𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖇𝖚𝖌𝖘 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉 𝖑

☼ 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: daddy!andy barber x little!reader

☼ 𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: you meet Andy at your worst.

☼ 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔨𝔫𝔤𝔰: fluff, angst, mentions of little space, anxiety attacks.

☼ 𝔞/𝔫: hope you guys enjoy the chapter of my DJ AU!

you felt like you were drowning. you were sat in your favourite coffee shop, French Press Bakery & Cafe, law textbooks surrounding you as you studied as hard as you could for your Family Law midterm coming up in a week.

"alimony...a payment of support provided by one spouse to the other... condonation...the act of forgiving one's spouse who has committed an act of wrongdoing that would constitute a ground for divorce.  Condonation generally is proven by living and cohabiting with the spouse after learning that the wrongdoing was committed. It often is used as a defense to a divorce..." you mumbled to yourself as you read the textbook in front of you, the words coming from your tongue, but not implanting as knowledge.

your breathing sped up as you looked at the time on your watch. 10:27 pm. you had a half an hour before you had to be back at your dorm, your dorm with your loud roommates who were most definitely partying, and would be partying the majority of the weekend. how they were passing their classes and maintaining a social life, you had no idea. you could barely call your mom once a day, let alone have a relationship and friends.

tears pricked your eyes as you squeezed them shut, trying to recall what you just learned, but couldn't. your chest hurt, and every breath stung. your vision blurred, and the room spun just as a voice managed to make it through the roaring in your ears.

"hey?" a voice said, a voice you barely recognized. "hey, can you hear me?" you nodded shakily, and a cup of ice water was pushed into your hand.

"thanks," the voice said, and slowly, your vision became clearer, despite your chest still tightening. your hand was placed onto something hard and covered and cloth, and you quickly realized it was a chest when you felt a heart beat.

"just breathe with me, okay? in...hold...out...good job. once more time. in...hold...out. amazing." he said, and you finally were able to recognize the voice and put a face to a voice.

Andy Barber. father of Jacob Barber, newly ex husband of Laurie Barber, and the subject of all of your little space fantasies. he was here, sitting in front of you, encouraging you to breathe. his hand was wrapped around your wrist, his eyes searching your face.

"what's going on?" he asked quietly, pulling up a chair from another table. you looked down at the cup of ice water, and took a sip while you tried to sling words together.

"jus' got stressed is all." you whispered, and Andy nodded, glancing at the textbooks strewn on the table.

"you studying Law?" he asked, and you nodded. "i remember those days." Andy said cringing. "i can only imagine how much harder it's gotten."

you nodded. "i don't know why i chose it." you explained, and Andy seemed to agree. "i shouldn't complain though." you added, remembering that Andy made it through, and he had a child to take care of on top of it.

"no no no, you chose a hard career, you have every right to complain. god knows i did." Andy said, sitting forward, his forearms on his thighs.

you shrugged. "i don't want to seem ungrateful."

"you don't. you seem very grateful, determined, and most importantly stressed out." he says and you swallowed the lump in your throat, just as one of the waitresses came up to you.

"just so you guys know, we're closing in 15." she said, and you nodded. you downed the rest of the water and grabbed your book bag from the back of your chair.

"thank you," you said as Andy handed you your textbooks. "thank you for helping me too." you said, and he gave you a charming smile.

"of course." he stood up as you did. you slipped your phone into your pocket. "you living on campus?" he asked, and you nodded.

"yeah i am. i transferred from another college, so i got stuck in the freshman dorms even though i'm a junior." you said, and Andy nodded, a look of relief spreading on his face.

"mind if i walk back with you? my apartments that way." he asked and you nodded shyly, the two of you setting off.

the two of you make small talk, and he gives you some tips for your exams. you two approach the building, and he pulls out his phone.

"this may sound unbelievably creepy, but could i get your number? i can't have a pretty girl like you struggling all by herself," he said, and you smiled under his gaze, feeling yourself become smaller.

"s-sure," you said, pulling out your own, fighting to keep your voice normal. "i can use all the help i can get," you say, letting him put his number in.

"there you go," he said, handing you your phone back. "i hope you have a good night, love." he said, his thumb caressing your cheeks, and walking away with a little wave.

as you crawled into bed that night, you giggled softly thinking of Andy, and just how little he made you feel with a single touch.

#andy barber x you #andy barber x female reader #andy barber fluff #andy barber drabble #andy barber x y/n #andy barber imagine #andy barber fic #andy barber smut #andy barber x reader #andy barber #lovebugs world au

[stylesharrys]

Boys Like You

A/N: Welp, it’s here and it’s a bit of a long one. I’m from England so naturally, I had to do a bit of research into American colleges in terms of living on campus and stuff. But, here it is, it took a while, so enjoy!

WC: 17,075

You felt stupid, completely and utterly idiotic. You wished to God you didn’t start to let your guard down, that you had stuck to that damn mantra you sang in your head. Boys like him don’t go for girls like you. You shake your head, biting back another sniffle.

It had been a month, you shouldn’t still feel upset about it, but you did. He was popular, smart, funny, gorgeous, kind, caring… and you? You were not popular, borderline clever, no doubt a dull sense of humour, and though you were kind and caring, you didn’t think yourself to be very pretty, let alone gorgeous.

You wondered for a while if you’d see him in the quad with a better, prettier girl on his arm. But you didn’t, and maybe that was what hurt more. The fact that he didn’t want you to see him at all. Not even in his moved on, happy glory.

or

You’re a quiet girl that likes books, Peter’s a fray boy that likes you.

//

Homecoming. The first home football game of the year, which, coincidentally fell on the first day of the new school year. If you were being honest, you secretly enjoyed the buzz of sweaty boys and cheering girls as they stampeded over the grassy playing field of MVU. Not that you’d admit that to Leone, though, especially after the way you promised to make it known just how much of a bad time you were having once you got there, when she told you that you had to go because she was “sick of watching you read your life away, book after bloody book,” in that godforsaken British accent everyone appeared to adore so much.

She was right, though, (again, not that you would ever admit to her and feed that monstrous, ever-growing ego); you were reading your life away, book after book when every other student appeared to know how to have a good time – whether that was guys chugging kegs and girls flashing their tits, or in a general case, attending the annual First Home MVU Game where the Milburn Vine Tigers fight to the death. Well, not really, though it was their slogan on all the cheap posters around campus since you had started.

Typically you’d spend the first night of the new school year (or any other night, for that matter) reading a good book while Leone trashed the dorm room with clothes and makeup before heading out for a night on the not so lively town. Only two hours from Long Island, Milburn Vine University housed over 12,500 students per school year and for two long, gruelling ones, you had been a blurred face amongst the crowd.

It wasn’t that you were completely invisible but rather kept to your studies and books and occasionally only participated in group projects if they were deemed absolutely necessary by the professor, or they offered a higher credit than working solo. It wasn’t that you didn’t have friends or that you were a complete loner. You had a few friends, you went shopping on the weekends when you weren’t working in the Bayford Hall Library and you had decent people skills, despite rarely ever talking to anyone.

You liked sitting in the candlelight of the shadows. You liked hot cups of coffee with your books. You liked the structure you had implanted on your life and you liked the few people you surrounded yourself with.

What you didn’t like was coming back to MVU for your third year after visiting your Mom for a week, to find out that you and your lovely Leone were no longer roomies because someone on the housing team fucked up and misspelt Leone as Loraine and you were now rooming with a dark-haired, red-lipped hottie that was dead set on giving you a makeover the second she laid eyes on you as you meekly introduced yourself.

She seemed nice, sure. A bright smile with what had to be way too white teeth and a pair of dazzling green eyes that resembled the jade in the pendant that sat on your neck. She had a plucky attitude about her and the slight crook in the corner of her seemingly friendly grin had an unsettling feeling in your stomach. A feeling that you tended to try so desperately to avoid. Trouble.

Leone didn’t seem as saddened as you had over the news of your cohabitating termination. In fact, if you can remember correctly, she’d actually gushed over your roommate and the major sex vibes she was apparently oozing. It had never been a secret that Leone didn’t put a label on her sexuality. Sex was sex and love was love. But you’d appreciate it immensely if your best friend didn’t fornicate with your new, slightly intimidating and incredibly pretty roommate, for your sake.

Her interest in Loraine had quickly subsided by the time you both got seated on the bleachers of the field, her train of sight dead set on one of the football players that ran laps up and down the field. You pursed your lips and curled slightly into yourself. With a thick black roll-neck and your fluffy pink teddy bear coat, you were still freezing; teeth chattering while you rubbed your hands together to form some kind of friction.

You never understood before why Leone loved attending the home games, but as you followed her eyes across the players, you felt a breeze of warm air rush up your neck and sit on cheeks and you knew why. Yes, they were incredibly attractive, and yes, Leone would no doubt go home with at least one of them, but no, you would not indulge yourself with the idea of doing the same.

“Number 6 could totally get it,” Leone sighed out happily beside you, a cheeky grin on her lips but her cheeks weren’t blushing like yours. Not even from the cold air. “Any and all positions. God, look at that face-” Standing abruptly from your seat, you let out a cheery sigh and cleared your throat. “I’m gonna get a hotdog. You want one?” you didn’t give her time to reply before you had scooted through the students in your row and bounced down the steps.

Letting out an icy sigh, you dipped your hands into your pockets and raised your shoulders closer to your neck to preserve the little warmth your coat was trying to sustain. The queue to the hotdog stand was seemingly never ending and no matter how thick your beanie was, it did absolutely nothing to block out the rowdy crowd around you.

You wondered how many chapters into Unnatural Causes you’d be by now if you’d fought harder and insisted on staying home… probably a decent halfway through with in-depth annotations in the margins, too. But, alas, you were stuck on the football field while your teeth chattered and stomach grumbled.

Amidst your little inner monologue, the queue had shortened and you were three people away from that little taste of heaven. Despite never having attended one of the school’s football games, you had tasted their infamous hotdogs, drowned in ketchup and mustard and the rolls were always buttered to perfection. Maybe it was the hotdogs that stopped you from fighting harder to stay home.

After paying for your delicious treat, with your hotdog in one hand and Leone’s in the other, you span around with a gleaming smile, butterflies in your stomach at the meaty smell–which all too quickly faded when a body collided into yours and the two slithers of heaven were splattered up your coat; chunks of sausage in the fur, matted by the sauces.

A solemn look was quick to take over your features and your stomach sunk. Well this is just great. “Woah,” the hotdog killer took a step back and held you at arm’s length and you had to physically will yourself not to cry over the gone but never forgotten food. Your hands dropped to your sides as you held half of the hotdog buns with mustard stuck between your fingers.

Letting out a sigh, you threw your head back. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you huffed and wondered if the night could have possibly gotten any worse. And maybe it did, or maybe it didn’t when you looked at the killer and your heart fluttered just the same as it had when your food was still edible.

Impossibly gorgeous brown curly hair, soft hazel eyes beneath rounded glasses and a bone structure that surely should not be allowed. You gulped, lips parting and why the hell have you never seen this absolute beauty on campus? Not that this meeting would ever mean anything or meeting sooner would have made a difference. Boys like that don’t go for girls like you and you were most certainly getting a little too ahead of yourself.

“It’s okay,” he laughed softly and fuck even his voice was pretty. You nodded and gulped, suddenly very aware of how close the two of you were standing and how stupid you must look with hotdog stains over your favourite coat.

His eyes fluttered across your body and you were almost certain he was… checking you out? No, surely not. A cocky grin did, however, tug at the corners of his lips and you quickly decided it was probably the greatest thing you had seen all damn week. “Can I buy you another one? I feel at least partly responsible,” his smooth voice asked and were you dreaming or did that sound like he was flirting… with… you…?

You blubbered like a fish out of water briefly before you clocked the expectant way he was looking at you and you cleared your throat pathetically, throwing on your most awkward smile. “I… uh, no, that’s okay. I should get back to my uh, my friend,” you just about managed to splutter without choking on your words.

You sidestepped as he did the same until you were both in the other’s previous positions and you were slowly walking back to the bleachers, eyes not leaving him and in a result, you bumped into the team’s mascot and clung to his paw to stop you from falling. Heavy blush on your cheeks that he could no doubt see from the ten feet away he was, the boy smirked and you span around, racing up the steps until you were hidden amidst the other students.

As the game kicked off to a start, you sat idly in your seat, picking at your thumbs and occasionally peering overheads of students in possible search of the hotdog killer, until about halfway into the game when you realise how absolutely ridiculous you were being and opted to stand with Leone instead, and cheer for a team playing a game you had no fucking clue about.

The Tigers went home with the Start of Year Cup while you went back to your new dorm with a ruined coat that would need intensive care from the dry cleaners and a rumbling stomach. You had desperately offered Leone to go back to your new dorm with you, to make it that little less awkward when you’d have to no doubt talk to Loraine but she immediately declined because ‘Kappa Delta Z is throwing the back to school party and number 6 is going’, so home alone you were going.

Not that that idea had lasted long. The second you had got back into your dorm and began unpacking the rest of your moving boxes, Loraine had very snippily told you you’d be attending a party with her tonight because apparently giving you a personality makeover was her newly acclaimed major.

After thirty minutes of trying to argue and trying on several of your ‘not so flattering outfits’, Loraine had somehow encouraged you into a tight black leather skirt you’d found buried in one of your boxes that you were certain belonged to Leone and a new burgundy lace bodysuit that she insisted you wore. She’d applied a little makeup on top of what you were already wearing–a red lip and a little wing of eyeliner on your lids. You let her do it, dress you up as her little dolly but when she showed you a pair of five-inch heels, you drew the line.

Standing outside of the Kappa Delta Z house, your stomach broke into somersaults as the loud music from within the walls reverberated through your bones. You’d been to a house party before, sure, quite a few of them back in your high school days when you’d drink your body weight in cheap wine and spirits but a college party? Never.

You promised yourself you’d have the full college experience without the parties and the drinking. But here you were, a day into your third year, breaking that promise. With Loraine’s arm hooked in with yours, she led you up the steps and into the house. It was packed; drunken bodies in a state of limbo, pressed against walls and pillars as lips messily danced, red solo cups and beer cans trampled across the floor. The bassy music vibrated the entire house and there was so much noise, you didn’t know what sound to focus on.

House parties had never been like this in high school. They were more social gatherings when someone's parents went away with approximately twelve of you playing would you rather while you raided their liquor cabinets. This was different. This was a party animal’s wet dream and you were living in it.

“Breathe it in, Y/L/N. This is what college is all about,” Loraine sighed happily, like the stench of sweat and alcohol was a drug to her and she just got her latest fix. You purses your lips tightly and huddled a little closer to her. Though she had forced you here almost against your will, you were thankful she didn’t invite her entire posse, too. At least without her friends, she’d feel more inclined to stay by your side.

She’d pulled away from your grasp all too quickly when she’d heard a cheer of her name being called and just like that, you were all alone in a strange house with unknown people in a surprisingly comfortable but all too revealing outfit. Nerves were quick to prickle at your skin and if you were going to survive this, to give Loraine’s idea a shot, you’d need a drink or three.

The kitchen was easy to locate amongst the sweaty nomads and pink-lipped girls, covered in spilt drinks and half-empty pizza boxes. For a half-second you actually debated on taking a slice, the growling in your stomach growing and you knew to drink on an empty stomach would be the worst idea, but what else has touched that pizza beside the dirty sock that was sitting beside it?

“Y/N?” you span around like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide and heart pulsing. You visibly relaxed when you saw Leone, a drunken grin on her lips as she curled her body into Number 6 with a smirk. “Oh, thank God,” you sighed, shoulders falling in relief.

Leone raked her eyes up the length of your body and gnawed on her bottom lip. “My skirt looks hot on you,” she admitted, stifling a laugh at the way your cheeks blushed profusely and you shifted under her gaze. You didn’t feel uncomfortable over Leone’s comment, you never had, she was your best friend… but the look on Number 6’s face didn’t make you feel so at ease.

You flipped her off with a sarcastic smile and span back around in search of a clean glass or mug to finally pour yourself a drink. The second you had managed to pour yourself a little too much vodka with a drop too little of lemonade, Leone’s dainty hand had wrapped around your wrist and pulled you out of the kitchen and into the backyard.

For a frat house, it was actually very pretty. A makeshift gazebo had been put up with strings of fairy lights wrapped around the poles. Beanbags, office chairs and the armchair from the lounge had been dragged outside, blankets and pillows on the floor as extra seats and a bunch of students lounged around beneath the stars. An indie movie could never.

“We have our tenth player!” Leone slurred happily and she belted out a snorted giggle after. All eyes turned to you and that familiar blush sat back on your cheeks again in the pale moonlight. With twiddling fingers, you looked around the group. Leone and Number 6 sat cosily on the armchair, the two blonde twins you recognised as Jaz and Kelly, three faces you absolutely had never seen before and just to your left, the light-skinned boy you shared thee classes with and happened to be captain of the Tigers.

“Kam,” you breathed thankfully, stepping over legs and pillows and his eyes raked over your body in the most discreet manner they could when you plopped on the beanbag beside him, smile on your lips and he wrapped an arm around you.

“Hey, gorgeous. Nice outfit,” he winked. You rolled your eyes with a nervous laugh and settled further into his side. Kam was attractive, there was absolutely no doubt about that. Tanned skin, greyish eyes, full lips and dark curly hair. He was tall, too, just under 6 foot and the muscle on that boy was borderline orgasmic.

Not that you’d ever go there, or more like not that you’d ever have the chance. You met Kam the second week of your first year in introduction to psychology and he sat beside you because he was late and that was the only spare seat. Maybe it was a little punch in the gut that you were only friends because he had no choice but to sit beside you two years ago, but if he didn’t want to be your friend, he didn’t have to sit with you at lunch or bring you coffee the next time you had class.

Over the two years, you’d both became close friends, which also meant he told all the boys on the football team you were off-limits, not that any of them had ever or would ever show any interest in you, but part of you loved the protectiveness, even thought that maybe it could have meant something else, until he got with Zoe Preston and got caught fucking her in the canteen by a group of starters.

“Fuck, now where’s Peter?” Kelly threw her hands in the air and rolled her eyes, leaning back against Jaz and you just knew Kam was rolling his eyes from beside you. “I’m here, I’m here, relax,” a smooth voice replied back and you craned your neck to find who the voice belonged to.

Hotdog killer.

He sat down on one of the pillows, half-empty bottle of beer in his hand and as his eyes scanned the group, you quickly looked away. “Right, Jaz, you first. Truth or dare?” Oh, great. Maybe this was like the high school parties after all. Jaz hummed in feign thought before clicking her tongue. “Dare,” she smirked.

Leone hummed with a smirk, like she was thinking of the perfect way to not make this whole situation seem planned. “I dare you to kiss Kam,” Leone stifled a laugh and Jaz stood with a triumphant smile, swaying her hips a little too dramatically as she sauntered over to Kam. To say you were uncomfortable when she straddled his lap and kissed him passionately would be an understatement.

You cleared your throat as you shifted slightly away from the two and busied your line of sight with the first thing you lock eyes with. Peter the Hotdog Killer. His eyes were already on you when you turned around but he wasn’t wearing his glasses this time and in the pale moonlight, he looked even more handsome than he had just an hour before at the football game.

His eyes not so discreetly took in your outfit and under the chill that sat on your skin, you realised how sheer Loraine’s bodysuit was and just how pearled your nipples had turned. That same blush returned much darker and sat heavy on your skin as you shifted your arms to somehow cover your chest without seeming too obvious what you were doing.

Peter knew, though, and his smirk grew as he tried to hide it. “Okay, gross, that’s enough thanks,” Kelly interrupted the heavy makeout session. Jaz pulled off your friend with a gasp of breath and smudged lipstick, swaying back to her seat and you turned to Kam with a gross grimace that he had to return but probably should have made sure Jaz didn’t see.

He pulled you back into his side and the game continued. You zoned out for a while, finding the loose pieces of thread on Kam’s ripped jeans much more interesting than the game at hand. Peter, however, was finding you much more interesting than Number 6 chugging a bottle of tequila. His head was tilted and a small smile sat on his lips. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask you on a date or fuck you over the table, especially in that outfit.

“Peter, your turn.” You both looked up at Kelly as she announced the next person and while curled into Kam’s side and his hand gently rubbed up and down your arm to keep you warm, Peter nodded his head. “Dare, obviously,” he shrugged, leaning back on his hands and his knees were bent; feet flat on the ground.

Leone noticed your staring, the way you eyed his thighs and arms and involuntarily nibbled on your lower lip. “I dare you to play the rest of the game naked,” she called out through a laugh and you knew what she was doing. You knew she’d caught you and was trying to get you to make a fool of yourself. You sent her a death glare and she winked.

Peter laughed and stripped from his top, your words lodged in your throat and you shifted uncomfortably. There was no way in hell he was actually about to play the rest of the game naked, right? Surely he was just going to take off his shirt and pants and play the game in his box— but they hit the floor and both his hands were cupping his crotch as he kicked the boxers off his feet and slowly turned, a gracious swirl.

His whole body was gorgeous. Golden skin and perfectly toned, a peachy ass and thighs you could ride for days. No, stop that. You swallowed back any desperate noises that tried to scream out and Peter kicked another beanbag to join the circle and plopped onto it, hand still in front of his cock until he grabbed the blanket and let it pool over his crotch but the thin material didn’t leave much to the imagination.

You swallowed again and forced your eyes anywhere but on him and suddenly the bathroom window seemed the most interesting thing you’d seen all night. “Y/N.” Or maybe it was the four-foot girl dancing on the table with a purple vase that had caught your attention.

“Y/N!”

“Hm?” you snapped out of your daze to see eight pairs of eyes staring right at you and the expectant gaze of Number 6, who’s name you learned to be Byron, boring into your skull.

You hummed again and he grinned menacingly. “Truth or dare?” A blush shouldn’t have risen to your cheeks at the same question you’d heard for the last twenty minutes, but when it was directed at you, the game suddenly felt a lot more serious than before.

Weighing out your options, you decided that maybe choosing dare around a group of people you didn’t know (save for Leone, Kam and the twins) wouldn’t be the best idea, so a truth would have to suffice.

“Truth,” you answered meekly and when a chorus of breathy laughs through gritted teeth sounded from the other players, you realised you may not have picked the correct answer. With furrowed brows, you looked around the group.

“What?” You asked, brows furrowed and Leone groaned from her seat beside Byron. “Babes, if you choose truth you have to do a dare related to the question asked,” she explained through a slurred hiccup and Byron clapped his hands, sitting forward with a cocky glint to his eyes.

“For your truth, out of everyone here, who would you rather kiss?” Another chorus of oooooohhhh mimicked their way through the group and a blush rose to your cheeks. You could quite easily say Leone and have this over with but Leone knows you think of her as a sister and that would be just plain weird.

You couldn’t choose Byron, not a single inch of you wanted to kiss him and the same could go for the twins and the two other players that you had paid absolutely zero attention to during the game. That left Kam and Peter and while Kam was incredibly gorgeous and kind and sweet, he was also one of your closest friends and kissing him would probably make you throw up.

That left Peter, the only logical answer. And it’s not that you wouldn’t kiss him if the opportunity arose. Because you absolutely would, but would he want to kiss you? Probably not. Because boys like him don’t go for girls like you and you should know that by now. You should also know that your mouth often runs before your mind can catch up.

“Peter,” you blurted and in a seconds delay, your eyes widened in realisation that you had, in fact, said that out loud. Peter’s smug expression was clear and Leone seemed overly pleased with your accidental slip. But you missed the way Kam’s smile twisted to a frown that he tried to quickly cover-up. Peter noticed it, though.

Oh fuck, now will you be dared to kiss him?

“Well, that didn’t take as long as I thought,” Leone muffled her giggles with her hand and while looking between yourself and Peter, smacked Byron on his bicep and whispered something that had his grin growing.

He clapped his hands together again, something he appeared to do a lot, and spoke. “Seeing as you chose truth and we all know if you pick truth, you have to do a dare linked to it… I dare you to sit in Peter’s lap—“ his menacing grin grew ten times wider when your eyes bulged from your head and you avoided Peter’s strong gaze.

Fuck you, Leone. If this was going to happen, at least there would be that sheer blanket between your bodies so you wouldn’t be sitting on his bare cock. But Byron clicked his fingers and all attention was back on him, “—without the blanket between you.”

Oh.

Kam shifted uncomfortably beside you and shook his head, about to speak but Peter beat him to it. “Byron, you’re such a dick,” he turned to you. “I’m not offended if you don’t want to do it,” his words sounded genuine and a soft flicker in his eyes told you he meant it, but you weren’t about to back down from the dare and look like an absolute idiot.

You shook your head and stood from the beanbag, much to Kam’s silent dismay and nervously strut closer to Peter. You could feel Jasmine’s crystal green eyes burn unto your body as Peter pulled the blanket back but respectfully covered his dick with his hand again.

Turning around, you parked your ass on the edge of his right knee and tried not to put your whole weight on his one leg. Byron barked a laugh and shook his head. “Absolutely not, sit on the guys lap properly,” he pointed, obviously less than pleased with your perched position.

With a nervous sigh, you wiggled yourself a little further down Peter’s thigh, ignoring the soft friction as your clothed core managed to rub against it as your skirt rode up just enough. Peter stifled a cough from behind you and with his hand still covering his nether regions, the game continued.

As another round made its way through the group, starting with Kelly who had to flash everyone her tits, you were growing colder and colder by the second and you could only imagine how cold Peter must have been feeling.

He noticed your shivering the second it started but after five minutes passed and you were still trembling on top of him, and not for the reasons they usually are, he leaned forward and his hot breath fanned against your neck.

“Are you cold?” And if you weren't before you certainly was now. Peter took the riddle of goosebumps as a yes and leant for the blanket, skilfully draping it across your bodies while keeping his dignity intact and you relaxed a little.

While the game continued, Peter had managed to snake his arm around your waist and pull you closer to him. You were straddling his right thigh completely, your back against his chest and his chin had found its rest to lean on your shoulder.

The position was far too intimate for two people that had only spoken once and you almost forgot that it was when he murdered your hotdog. But neither of you made an effort to move apart and as you shifted around slightly on his lap, you felt something firm press against your ass and you were suddenly very aware of how much your skirt had bunched around your waist.

You tried to clench your thighs shut, to stop that gushing feeling you knew too well as your cheeks grew heavy with a blush, but you forgot the fact that his leg was between yours so you incidentally ended up squeezing his thigh with yours and he absolutely felt your pussy pulse against his skin.

With rattling nerves, you grabbed your drink from the floor that Kelly had graciously given you when it was her turn to do the rounds and chugged the 80% vodka, 20% lemonade in two quick gulps. Liquid courage would be the only thing that would get you through this possible soul obliterating encounter.

But Peter’s hands ended up gripping your hips and gently, almost not actually doing it, he ground your hips against his thigh and you shuddered. There was no way in hell this total stranger—totally hot stranger—was about to get you off in his thigh in front of your friends while they played truth or dare, completely oblivious to your sins.

Peter tensed his thigh, flexing and gently bouncing as to not attract the attention of your friends. Under the blanket, your hand was gripping his left thigh while your other held his on your hip. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Peter was trying to get you off while only knowing your name and having only ruined your favourite jacket just hours prior.

The alcohol was beginning to take its toll and you could smell the beer and sweet apple cider on his breath when he sighed across your neck and brushed his lips accidentally against your tender skin. He wouldn’t admit it right now, but he was fucked. Something about those gorgeous eyes of yours and that damn outfit that he knew you didn’t choose to wear was driving him wild.

His hands stopped guiding your movements and soon you very slowly started grinding your hips against his thigh, riding it as the friction rubbed at your swollen clit and you soaked through your panties. You were sure he could feel how wet you were but at that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Maybe that was what Leone and Loraine were talking about. Maybe this was the kinda thrill and excitement you’d been missing out on when your head was stuck in a book.

One of Peter’s hands left your hip and you feel him reach back and rest it just beside your side. But then you felt his knuckles gently brush against your side, up and down, and you knew exactly what he was doing. You shuffled on his lap, slightly leaning to the side to cover his hands jerking movements from the rest of the group, but Kam sat directly opposite you both and knew exactly what you were doing with your not-so-discreet movements.

You could feel it bubbling inside you, that burning sensation as the knot tightened in the pit of your stomach. But before it could snap, a shrill scream had halted everyone’s movements and an icy cold glass of rum and coke was being poured on Peter’s face and splashed over yours. It took everything in you not to pull off his lap and expose both of you and your activities.

“Brina, what the fuck?” Peter spat, hands no longer on his cock and has wiping rum from his eyes while managing to offer you an apologetic smile. You frowned as you tilted your head up to the brown-haired girl. She was furious, smoke practically spitting from her ears like a steam train. Peter pulled the blanket further up his body to hide his raging boner and she glared at you, spitting in your face.

You jumped up in shock, leaving a sopping wet patch on Peter’s thigh and Leone raced to her feet and lunged for Brina, when Kelly pulled her back and Peter stood too with the blanket wrapped around his waist, hard on very clear to anyone in his line of sight. “What the fuck is your problem?” Peter spat again, standing in front of you while you wiped the spit from your face.

Everything happened so fast. Words were thrown and names were called, but all you actually picked up on was “I thought we had something,” and you were reeling back into yourself, blinking away your obviously delusional thoughts of your previous actions being a good idea and you let out a dry chuckle before Leone had pulled you away from the situation and took you home.

She offered to stay the night but you had assured her you were fine and that the whole situation meant nothing. But it even though it meant ‘nothing’, to you, it meant something; you just didn’t know what that something was. She went home and you fell asleep, awoken at almost four in the morning when Loraine rocked up back at the dorm and passed out the second she hit the bed.

You brought her a coffee the next morning after your shift at the library. She was still asleep at 11 when you got back to the dorm, but you left the coffee on her nightstand with a breakfast bar and got your books ready for your first class of the new year. You were surprisingly shocked to see so many faces in Professor Vado’s 101 Creative Writing after last year's fiasco where he threw the projector at Flash Thompson for vlogging in class. Though, saying that, you were shocked to see that Vado hadn’t been replaced.

The class went smoothly and you were able to get a headstart on your paper in your free period in the library. The paper that wasn’t due for another four weeks but if you got it written now, you could edit it sooner which meant you could submit it early and focus on your other studies and making your way through the book challenge you’d set yourself.

What a fun life you lived.

The next two weeks went by in a blur and you were able to submit your creative writing paper and pick up extra shifts at the library and campus cafe. The incident of the party had long left your mind after the third day but the same could not be said for Peter. The second he turned around and saw you’d disappeared with Leone, he’d gone to his room to sulk; head in his hands, pout on his lips.

Byron had followed him up, asked if he wanted to do body shots with some of the cheerleaders from the game and while Peter was usually game for anything, he declined and locked himself in his room. It wasn’t until he tore the blanket from his waist that he noticed the damp patch on his thigh from where your clothed pussy had sat. It sent his mind in a frenzy and he had to get himself off in the shower at the idea of you coming all over him.

Peter spent the next two weeks wondering what classes you took, where you might hang out in your free time. First, you infiltrated his waking thoughts, then it was his dreams. No matter how hard he tried, Peter just couldn’t seem to escape you. But maybe he didn’t actually want to. Maybe he actually enjoyed having you on his mind, sometimes even when he was fucking someone else.

But he had to get his head down because he had his first class in social sciences to get through and he could not afford to fuck up any of his above-average grades. Peter might like to party and fuck typically any girl with a pulse, but his priorities had always been education, education, education. A hot nerd that knows how to party, some would say.

As Peter shuffled his way into the lecture room, he found a seat in the middle row. Considering the class was supposed to start in three minutes, it was pretty empty and there hadn’t been a line waiting outside when he walked in the door. Pushing his glasses up his nose, Peter grabbed his laptop out of his bag and set his station up, cracking his fingers and clearing his throat.

A few other students filtered through the room and spread themselves accordingly and Peter supposed everyone probably had their own preferred seats and he hoped he wasn’t sitting in someone else’s. As Professor Swindle set up his slides, Peter noticed another student wander in the room. Coffee in hand, clad in black jeans and an oversized beige sweater, you plopped into your usual seat and set your belongings out.

His eyes bulged out of his head and for a second he almost didn’t recognise you in such a mundane outfit and without the winged eyeliner and red lipstick. You were just plain and simple and your hair wasn’t dead straight like the night of the party. Instead, it sat just below your shoulders in loose waves and he realized you’d gotten a haircut. Peter quickly decided he much preferred you in your plain and simple glory. Absolutely, gorgeous.

Peter struggled to focus the entire class, stealing glances at you whenever he could and only really paid any attention when he heard your voice discussing Freud and Marx. You hadn’t noticed him until he’d raised his hand and you heard his voice from a few rows behind you. When you span around and confirmed that it was indeed him, your cheeks grew hot and you turned back in your seat before he could offer you a smile.

Oh, God. Oh, God, he’s here. Just sink into your chair and he won’t realise you’re here and he won’t notice you. But he already had and you knew that, of course, you did and suddenly all you could think about was riding that damn thigh and his possible girlfriend spitting in your face.

You’d never been so eager for the class to finish and when it did, you were leaving before you even put everything in your bag. You had to avoid him at all costs. What happened that night was mortifyingly embarrassing and absolutely not you. You were about to make a run for it when you felt his hand wrap around your wrist and you spun around with wide eyes.

“Hey,” he smiled happily, like he didn’t remember what happened that night. Maybe it would be for the best, as much as it’d be a blow to your non-existing ego, it’d hurt a little if he didn’t remember you at all. But that was what you needed to remember. Boys like him don’t go for girls like you.

You mustered up your best smile and choked out a nervous laugh that you tried desperately to bite back. “Oh, hi,” you greeted back meekly, smiling through tightly pursed lips and you were sure you looked like you were doing an impression of Kristen Stewart when you tucked your hair behind your ear after.

“I didn’t know you took social sciences. Professor Swindle’s a bit weird,” he murmured, falling in step by your side as you both wandered down the halls and out into the chilly afternoon air. Why was he talking to you like nothing happened? Did he really not remember or was he just pretending? What do you care, he’s not making things awkward so you need to act normal before you make everything uncomfortable.

You nodded with a hum. “Yeah, have since first year. And he’s… not so bad. You get used to him,” you shrugged. Peter nodded and a thick blanket of silence fell over you both. There was a massive elephant in the quad and neither of you particularly wanted to address it, but Peter bit the bullet.

“Listen, about Brina at the party–” you’d cut him off with a wave of your hand, “–Oh, that’s… that doesn’t matter,” you tried to dismiss the topic, not particularly wanting to take a trip down memory lane for him to tell you that it was a one-time thing and it didn’t mean anything. You weren’t quite ready for that this afternoon.

Peter shook his head and stopped in front of you, blocking your path. “No, no. It does matter. Brina was just like a friend with benefits type of thing and she didn’t get the hint the six times that I told her I wasn’t interested, and she absolutely had no right to do what she did to you, so I am so sorry, on her behalf, truly.”

You squinted at him with a slightly tilted head. Neither of you were entirely sure why he felt the need to explain that they were just friends with benefits, or that he made it very clear that they seemingly no longer were. Either way, meaning or no meaning, you were grateful for his sincerity and kindness. With a soft, genuine smile, you nodded your head. “It’s okay, thank you for apologising on her behalf.”

Peter let off a lopsided grin that quickly managed to form into a smirk and you knew exactly what was going through his mind and you needed to leave before he brought up the thigh riding incident. “You wanna grab a coffee or something? I’ve got a free period,” he offered and you so desperately wanted to accept but why was he asking? Did he feel inclined to? Did he want to pick things back up from the party and coffee was just a decoy?

“I would, but I’ve got a shift at the library in five,” you grimaced though, maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Were you really going to allow yourself to keep believing he wanted anything to do with you? To let the idea fabricate in your head that maybe he even just wanted you as a plaything like most boys like him would?

Peter nodded understandingly, though and didn’t push further. “Okay, next time,” he said, brows raised in a playful manner and you let out a humorous chuckle but nodded nonetheless. You watched his ass as he wandered off and out to the quad, backpack bouncing on his back.

Your shift at the library had dragged longer than you thought it would. You were meant to finish at 5 but after finally getting settled on your break, you decided maybe you’d just stay there when your shift was over and get something for dinner from the cafe.

Three coffees and a deli meal later, you were furiously typing away on your laptop, fingers cramping but you didn’t let the discomfort sway you from finishing the first chapter of your short story for your creative writing class. The topic was anything fantasy related, so naturally, your story was about a tear in realities and alternate universes.

Somewhere around the second chapter mark, an on cast of disturbance had tore you from your haze-like state. As you looked up from your laptop, a whole new group of students had emerged and taken over the first two large tables near the mythology section. You huffed and shoved your earphones in, connecting them to your laptop and pressing play on your writing playlist.

Your eyes were focussed on your screen again so you didn’t notice Peter as he wandered over to his group’s table, a few moments later. He saw you, though: how you gnawed on your lower lip and slightly furrowed your eyebrows in concentration. You were still wearing that sweater from this morning and he was reminded about his coffee date offer when he saw four to go cups lined up on your desk. And by the looks of your face, he figured you could do with another.

He left his group and returned five minutes later with a cup for himself and a cup for you. He made his way over and placed the cup on your desk, sitting opposite you as he waited for you to notice his presence. You saw his arms first, crossed and leaning on the table. Then you saw his signature smirk, then the slope of his nose, then his glasses.

“Peter,” you breathed, and part of you felt like you were in a fairytale as a soft string quartet was composed in your ears. He reached over and tugged on the wires of your earphones, effectively pulling them out of your ears and he grinned, pushing your coffee around your laptop and to your side.

“You looked like you needed it,” he said with a smile, a little laugh soon following and you laughed back, nodding your head and thanking him. “You have no idea, this project is killing me,” you sighed, head falling into your hands and you rubbed your eyes, slightly smudging your mascara but it couldn’t have been that bad because Peter didn’t say anything.  

“What is it?” He asked, taking a swig of his latte. You huffed a piece of hair out of your face. “It’s a short story for my creative writing class. It’s about this scientist where his daughter mysteriously vanished and he thinks she’s trapped in, like, an alternate dimension of something and he’s trying to make a tear through reality,” you rambled on, missing the way Peter’s eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store.

You waved a hand dismissively at yourself. “It’s nerdy and not completely done so I won’t bore you with—“ he cut you off with a grin, “—Can I read it? That sounds awesome!” He was pulling your laptop from your grasp before you could even really comprehend what he said and by the time you did, he was already on the second page.

“Oh God, it’s not—it’s not done and I still have a bunch I need to change because it’s not like scientifically accurate,” you mumbled as your voice slowly died off into a nervous whisper. Peter continued reading with pinched brows, his lips gently moving as he recited the dialogue.

It was silent between you both for a few more minutes until he nodded his head and handed the laptop back to you. “It’s good, you’re really talented,” he praised, a blush rising to your cheeks again and that seemed to be a constant state for you as of recent.

“But uh, if you need any help, I know a thing or two about the quantum realm and alternate realities,” he coughed out quietly, like he didn’t really want you to know he was actually a major fucking nerd beneath the cocky grins and persona.

You raised a brow. “You do?” Peter hummed and took another swig of his coffee. It was no secret that Peter was a borderline genius with perfect grades, but admitting that out loud often made him feel like a boasting nerd.

“I know a guy,” he shrugged but he absolutely was not about to spit facts about space and time if you asked. At least, not in the middle of a packed library, anyway. You grinned at him with wide eyes. “That’s so cool,” your excitement almost got the better of you and you forced yourself to sit back in your seat and take a breath.

You didn’t know why he came and brought you coffee. You didn’t know why he chose to sit with you and read your story and offer future support if you ever needed it. You didn’t know why he was being so nice. You didn’t know the guy before the party and you still hardly knew him then. But what you did know was that any guy that hot and that popular, tended not to be that kind.

Peter cleared his throat again and broke you from your daydream. “Uh, I’ll leave you to your story, but it’s great—don’t stress too much.” You watched him walk away and join his group across the library from you and between the heads of other members on his table, he could see you smile to yourself as you typed up another chapter plan.

//

Three milkshakes in and a stomach of Patty’s burgers and fries, you were struggling to keep yourself from throwing up. What had started as a quick study break at Patty’s Diner had ended with Peter coming in to order food to-go, seeing you, and deciding to join you. You didn’t mind. If anything, when you saw him, you kind of prayed he’d choose to stay and was more than pleasantly surprised when he did.

You’d been in there for almost two and a half hours, talking about the more mundane and seemingly boring things about each other, opposed to the normal homework talk. You learnt that Peter's parents died and his aunt and uncle took him in when he was young and a few years ago, his uncle died too so he was currently alone with his aunt. You learnt that he loved science and math, that he was secretly a massive nerd and had sat back and listened to him rave about Star Wars.

It wasn’t all one-sided, though. Peter had learnt a lot about you, too. Like how you loved reading and oversized shirts and hoodies. He learnt that you had an older sister from another dad, that you hated the taste of tomatoes and more importantly, that your first and last boyfriend had only asked you out as a dare, which you found out after five months of dating when he humiliated you in front of everyone.

“Wait… are you serious?” he asked, dropping his empty milkshake to the table and screwing his brows. You nodded with pursed lips, tried to smile through it but why should you? Why should you pretend that even though it was three years ago, that it didn’t hurt? “Yup, lucky me, huh,” you laughed nervously and the shared bowl of fries between you no longer appeared very appetising.

Peter observed you for a moment, head tilted. He couldn’t understand why or how anyone could do something like that to someone as wonderful as you. A kind, beautiful, funny soul like yours. The thought of someone using you, no doubt sleeping with you, pretending to love you, all to humiliate you in front of everyone made him feel sick.

“But, the past is the past and we're told not to dwell on it,” you sighed as a more content smile crept its way across your lips and Peter admired your strength and ability to put something like that behind you, so gracefully.

He sat back in the small booth with a faint smirk on his lips. “I really like you, you know that?” You almost took that with another meaning. Almost. Choking out an awkward, you cleared your throat and shrugged with that stupid blush on your cheeks.

“Glad our friendship is satisfactory.”

… What?

You pursed your lips, biting back the frown that was desperate to tug on your brows. Really? Satisfactory? You miss the way Peter’s cocky smile slightly falters, too busy mentally scrutinising every word you had said over the course of the evening.

The sloppy sound of a wet mop hitting the floors had snapped you out of your inner self-criticising and you quickly realised it was almost midnight and the diner was closing. Peter drummed a quick beat on the table and cleared his throat, thumb jutting over his shoulder to the door.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home.” It wasn’t an offer, it was a statement. You were about to argue that you could take the bus, but the last one was two hours ago and you didn’t feel like walking back to campus with a handful of books, wearing a ditzy dress and converse with no jacket.

With a tight-lipped smile, you nodded your head and threw down a twenty to cover your bill. He watched you out of the booth first and pulled a twenty of his own from his pocket, tucking it into your notebook before picking a few others up and walking you out of the diner with a soft smile.

He wasn’t about to let your pay and you’d find that out tomorrow in the library when you were studying. Peter opened the passenger door for you, piling your books on your lap once you were settled and closed the door. You’d been in his car a few times by now and you were always pleasantly shocked that each time, it was clean, tidy, and smelled a lot like mint and lavender.

The drive was short, roads dead, but you enjoyed sitting idly by his side, watching the muscles in his forearm flex slightly whenever he shifted gear and part of you wondered if he was tensing on purpose. He didn’t need to do that for you to notice his muscles. He was wearing a tight, short-sleeved black t-shirt all night and his biceps were bulging.

You pressed your thighs together again and you were all too quickly reminded of the last time you did that in his presence. Your eyes had wandered slightly, subtly, and all he had to do was reach his arm out that little bit further to rest that gorgeous hand on your upper thigh, maybe push your dress up just a litt—

No, Y/N. Stop that!

By the time Peter had pulled up outside campus, you were almost certain you’d leave a wet patch on his front seat if you got up, no doubt soaked through the fabric of your dress. He pushed his glasses up his nose and turned to you, a friendly yet handsomely cocky smirk on his lips.

“You good? You look a little flustered,” he noted the blush creeping up your neck and you tried your damn hardest not to choke on a moan. Peter’s smirk only grew, not that you knew that, but it did and he appeared thoroughly pleased with himself.

You cleared your throat. “Yeah—no, I’m fine… just a little warm in here and I’m tired,” you forced out a yawn, one that made Peter cock his brow but he didn’t say anything on the matter. Instead, he hummed while nodding his head and took off his seatbelt. “Okay, I’ll walk you up,” he was already climbing out of the car, jogging around the bonnet and opening your door.

“Oh… okay, thanks,” you tried not to blush any harder and let him take the stack of books from your lap and you took off your seatbelt. Getting out of the car was proven a little harder than thought. You’d swivelled your ass on the seat, feet on the pavement but your dress had ridden right up your thighs and Peter got the most delicious view of your white lace panties.

You shimmied across the seat and out of the car, quickly spinning to pull your dress down and checking the seat. Phew, no wet patch. Peter gently kicked the door closed and nibbled on his lower lip, struggling to get that sinful view out of his mind.

You led the way to your dorm building and Peter trailed close behind. He was pleasantly surprised to see you wander straight up the steps, that there wasn’t a passcode or keycard needed to enter. Each dorm room opened out to an open arched hallway that overlooked the left end of the quad.

He followed you up another flight of steps, occasionally dipping his head to see if he could get another peek of those lace panties, but to no avail. He did, however, get the wonderful view of your round ass as your dress hugged your waist with each step up.

By the time you got to your dorm, he���d memorised the way and had 162 engraved solid in his mind. “This is me,” you pursed your lips, awkwardly extending your hands and arms out to present the door. Peter nodded, grin on his lips and you turned on your heels to unlock your door.

He followed you in, placing your books on the little table beside the door. It was cute, your side at least. Your desk wasn’t neat like he’d pictured, nor your bed. You had books stacked and papers array on your surfaces and your bed looked almost too inviting with the copious pillows and scattered blankets across the foot of it.

He nodded, appreciative of being able to see this more personal side of you. It wasn’t that you didn’t open up to him, because you did, but you didn’t exactly speak much of your interests or share your feelings in the way he so freely did.

“It’s nice,” he hummed. “Cosy.”

You laughed nervously, scratching the back of your head and rocking on the balls of your feet. A blush was rising to your cheeks again as you looked over at Loraine’s side of the room; pink sheets and pillows and blankets, everything neatly organised with a gorgeous vanity by the bathroom, stacked with her makeup and hair products.

God, he must have thought you were a mess.

It was awkward for a moment before Peter cleared his throat and took a step back to the door. “I should probably go,” he murmured softly, a small smile painting your lips but you wanted him to stay—not that you’d ever admit that to him or anyone else, for that matter.

You walked him back to the door, twiddling your thumbs in front of you as you stopped. “I had fun tonight,” he grinned cheekily and your stomach fluttered. He had fun tonight… wasn’t that something you said at the end of a date? Was this a date?

“Uh… yeah… me, too,” you quickly replied quietly, mentally convincing yourself that he did not mean it that way and that your little run-in definitely was not a date. But then Peter slowly crept closer until your chests were pressed together and you could feel his minty breath against your face.

You held yours, afraid you’d choke on air or end up saying something incredibly stupid that would ruin the moment completely. Was that what this was? A moment? Were you having a moment with Peter Parker?

His nose nudged yours and with one hand on your hip and the other cupping your cheek, you decided you were definitely having a moment and his lips were on yours before you could internally shrill and fester over what the fuck the entire thing meant.

You were kissing him back, though. Your mind had thankfully caught up with what was happening before you did and you melted into his touch. Peter’s hand crept its way from your hip to your cheek and he cupped them together, deepening the kiss. Your arms had wrapped themselves around his waist, tugging him closer.

Your heart was thumping in your chest, sporadic and frantic. You were kissing Peter Parker. You pulled away with a deep breath, lashes fluttering as you tried to catch a grip on reality. His hands still cupped your face and his thumbs were stroking over your cheekbones.

With swollen lips and adoration in his eyes, Peter reached down to kiss your lips again and bump the tip of his nose against yours. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispered, pecking your nose and he shuffled away, down the hall.

//

Things had changed drastically in the course of a month and tomorrow never came. You were almost too ahead in your studies and had far too much free time on your hands to even know what to do with it. You’d hoped that Peter would have kept you company through some of it, though. Occasionally beta reading your stories or bringing you coffee while you worked a shift at the library.

But your phone didn’t light up with his name and a silly meme anymore. He didn’t bring you coffee when you were studying, he didn’t walk through the quad to your class. He appeared to have vanished like there wasn’t even a trace of him.

The first few days, you figured maybe he was sick or too deep in his studies. But he wasn’t showing up to classes and something was incredibly off about his science partner and friend, Ned, when he shrugged you off whenever you asked if Peter was okay.

But after a week, you got the hint. He didn’t like you. He didn’t feel anything for you. He very clearly regretted the kiss and to make you see just how much, he obviously thought he needed to ghost you entirely. To say it hurt would have been an understatement. It felt like Corey all over again, using you, playing you.

You felt stupid, completely and utterly idiotic. You wished to God you didn’t start to let your guard down, that you had stuck to that damn mantra you sang in your head. Boys like him don’t go for girls like you. You shake your head, biting back another sniffle.

It had been a month, you shouldn’t still feel upset about it, but you did. He was popular, smart, funny, gorgeous, kind, caring… and you? You were not popular, borderline clever, no doubt a dull sense of humour, and though you were kind and caring, you didn’t think yourself to be very pretty, let alone gorgeous.

You wondered for a while if you’d see him in the quad with a better, prettier girl on his arm. But you didn’t, and maybe that was what hurt more. The fact that he didn’t want you to see him at all. Not even in his moved on, happy glory.

But he kissed you, not the other way around. Surely he must have felt something for you, or else why would he have kissed you? No, maybe it was just a pity kiss. Or maybe he did feel something, but realised you were an awful kisser and—

“Will you quit moping? It’s depressing.”

You peered over your book with furrowed brows. Loraine sat at her desk, toes on the foot of her bed as she coated them red. Things had been rocky with her. One minute she was offering you advice and curling your hair, the next she was chewing you out for not organising your desk.

“I’m not moping,” you murmured back from behind your book, shuffling further into your comforter and your psychology essay was still in your bag from four days ago. The need to start it wasn’t even there. Planning essays and writing short stories did nothing to take your mind off what happened. Not even reading the stupid book you’d had in your hands, stuck on the same damn page for over twenty minutes.

You heard her scoff from across the room and soft shuffling that followed but didn’t bother to look up from your book. “Whatever, I’m out for the night, don’t wait up,” she blew you a kiss and strutted out the door, slamming it shut behind her and you let out a sigh. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

An hour had passed and you’d barely managed to read two more pages. Before you could even sigh and give up; throw the book across the room and scream into your pillow, a soft tapping knocked on your dorm door and you prepared yourself for a drunken Loraine to do a quick outfit swap, or maybe Leone to join you in moping seeing as her and Number 6 were no longer an item.

You were more than a little shocked, however, to see neither of the two, but a tear-eyed, hopeful looking Peter Parker. Bile bubbled in your throat at the sight of him. This was it, the public humiliation that he saved until last.

He looked solemn, sad even. His eyes were red and puffy, glasses long gone and his usually ironed black t-shirt was wrinkled and a pair of grey sweatpants sat on his hips. He drank you in, though. Your messy hair and glossy lips, the miss-matched pyjamas and how inviting your bed still looked.

“Peter—“

“—I can explain everything,” he cut you off, taking a desperate step forward but you took a tentative step back, shaking your head. You let out a nervous laugh, to not let him see you so broken and hurt. “There’s nothing for you to explain, you don’t owe me anything, we kissed that was it,” you shrugged, hovering behind the door.

Peter shook his head, displeased with your answer. “No, it was more than that… the kiss meant something and I don’t want you to think I don’t feel anything for you,” he tried to get out, voice strangled. You laughed and shook your head. Was he being serious?

“Peter, I know you don’t feel anything for me and that’s okay. We kissed, but that’s all it was to you. Don’t try and give me false hope or this let-me-down-easy bullshit. I know the drill, okay. Boys like you don’t go for girls like me—I’m used to it.”

The door slammed on his face before he could get another word in and with your back pressed against it, you sunk to the ground. Your chest began to heave, a panic rising in your throat as you buried your head between your knees. Tears were quick to trickle down your cheeks and you felt stupid for allowing him to make you feel so hurt without him even knowing it.

Peter rested his forehead against the other side of the door, taking a deep breath. He never meant to hurt you, never was it his intention—and he didn’t expect for one night's mission to become a three-week-long trip to space and almost lose his life. He would have come back sooner but May refused to let him out of her sight and if he was being honest, he didn’t really mind. Going on those types of missions where your entire existence flashes before your eyes and you wonder was it all really worth it takes a toll.

“Y/N, please,” his pained whisper barely travelled through the door but you heard it. You heard him. His palms rested against the hard oak and he squeezed his eyes shut, lips pursed tight. “Please, just—just let me explain, I really like you.”

Your heart fluttered at the admission and you wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that the longing looks and subtle touches, the coffee dates and late-night talks all meant something. You didn’t want to believe he could be lying, that he was the type of person to do something like that. You wanted to believe that he could like you.

You sniffled back the tears and rose to your feet, wiping beneath your eyes. Opening the door, Peter took a step back in shock; his eyes wide and hopeful. You didn’t make eye contact—instead chose to stare at his chest as you opened the door wider and stepped aside, allowing him to come in.

With wide eyes, Peter slowly stepped inside, standing in the middle of the room as you closed the door. It was warm, cosy. The only light was the one emitting from your nightstand, and even then it barely cast a dim, tan glow over the room. You turned around and folded your arms over your chest, expectantly, trying to hide the fact that your heart was leaping in your chest and your desperate want to crumble into his arms.

Peter looked frantic, bloodshot eyes and a rosy nose. The longer you looked at him again, the more you noticed. Like the dark bags beneath his eyes, the bruises and cuts in his knuckles and the slight graze on his left cheekbone. “Pete,” you mumbled, taking a step forward and as much as he wanted to pull you into his arms, he stretched his hands out to stop you.

He knew you were vulnerable, and he was not about to take advantage of that in any way. “Just, just listen to me for a minute, let me explain, please… I, I want to tell you the truth,” he stuttered and you were sure you felt your heart sink a little.

You nodded your head with pursed lips and watched as Peter sat on the edge of your bed. You leaned against your desk, hands clasped in front of your thighs and he took a deep breath before clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry I just disappeared out of nowhere and didn’t return any of your calls. My uh, my phone broke—“ You cut him off with a pathetic sigh. Was he really about to use the broken phone excuse? A broken phone for an entire month means you can no longer live on campus or attend classes? Yeah right.

Peter’s eyes widened and he shook his head like he knew what you were thinking. Of course, he did. “No, look—I know how bad that sounds and it’s not an excuse, I don’t have an excuse. I have a reason—an explanation for all this,” he tried to rephrase.

He could see the hurt on your face, the absolute heartache in your eyes and he wondered if you were comparing him to your ex-boyfriend. You weren’t. “Look, there’s no easy way to just say this and I know I’m gonna sound like a complete nut job, but—“ he reached into his backpack and in a fist, pulled out a red piece of fabric.

You frowned as he stared down at it for a moment, like he was debating whether or not he should actually show you. “The reason I disappeared out of nowhere is because of the internship with Mr. Stark—“

“Internship? What internship? Mr… like Tony Stark?” You cut him off again and he nodded, eyes bright but quickly shook his head again and sighed. “Yes, well, no. I never told you about the internship because it’s not really an internship, that’s just what I have to tell people so they don’t know what I’m really doing for Mr. Stark or I’ll be in trouble and he won’t let me do this anymore—“ Peter rambled animatedly, his hands swaying in the air and you struggled to hang onto any words he spluttered.

“Pete, slow down,” you interrupted, cheeks flushed and he nodded while gulping back and taking a deep breath. There was nothing you wanted more than to stand between his legs and just let him wrap his arms around your waist while you played with his gorgeous brown hair. But you had to remind yourself that you were both never at that stage to begin with, and depending on what he had to say, it was likely you never would.

“I didn’t ignore you after the kiss because I didn’t like you, because I do. I really, really do,” he choked. “I ignored you because I had to go away for a week to help do something really important, but a week turned into a month in space and I didn’t have a damn phone and—“

You blinked, eyes squinted. “Did you just say space?” You asked. Peter clamped his lips shut and stared at you for a moment, gauging your reaction. You didn’t understand how he thought lying would make the situation any better. “Peter, you’re not making any sense. If you don’t like me and you regret the kiss, that’s fine just tell me, stop trying to make up stories to—“

“I’m Spider-Man.”

You blinked again. “What?” You swallowed the lump in your throat. Peter’s knees bounced up and down as he gnawed on his lower lip, eyes frantic. Your own eyes raked down his body to his clasped hands in his lap and you realised that red piece of fabric was Spider-Man’s mask. There was no way… right?

“I’m uh, I’m Spider-Man. And I was on this mission with the other Avengers and we ended up trapped in space and I almost died, and all I could think about was my Aunt May and how I never called you or told you how much I like you,” he admitted through a choked voice.

You stared at each other for a second long eternity before he cleared his throat, stood up and spoke again. “I’m sorry for not telling you and for just disappearing, and I get it if you don’t wanna see me again...” he couldn’t finish his sentence, get to the part where he still wanted to be your friend but he’d respect your wishes if you didn’t want that, before you were tackling him into a bone-crushing hug and burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Stay.”

Peter balled the mask up in his fist and wrapped his arms tightly around you. You felt utterly safe in his arms like he did in yours. And there was something exciting about being so close to him like this; being able to faintly smell his cologne and that vanilla shampoo he used. Even beneath his jacket, you could feel his tense back muscles.

Peter held you tighter as he inhaled the jasmine scent of your shampoo. Your hair felt like soft silk against his cheek and feeling the gentle curves of your body pressed against his had his shoulders relaxing just a little. He didn’t want to let go of you, found himself too enamoured with the touch of you.

You did pull away though, much to his dismay and held his soft cheeks in the palm of your hands. Peter’s hands dropped the mask to the floor and found purchase on your hips. “Stay,” you repeated, nose bumping against his and with his warm breath fanning across your lips, he nodded.

When morning rose, you were both still wide awake, faces inches apart and tiredness had begun to take over. The entire night was spent in the arms of one another, soft giggles and wanton tears. It was hard to understand that Peter Parker was the suited hero swinging around Queens that you’d seen in all the YouTube videos, (and that one time on your way home from the library late one night), and maybe it was because you didn’t want to imagine him bloody and bruised, or because even though he was a cocky shit, you couldn’t picture him saving the world.

He learned more about you, too. Like your favourite colours and foods. How you usually have to watch a sitcom to put you to sleep, or that the one time you didn’t put milk in your tea, you got hit by a car (that your Mom was driving) and broke your arm. A night of talking and you saw Peter in another light.

He was never just a cocky frat boy in the first place, but now he was the furthest thing from it. He wasn’t a dick or some mean jock. He was a nerdy science major that was a secret superhero, volunteered at the soup kitchen and organised yearly house parties for $10 a ticket and gave all the money to charities. In high school, he was bullied for being a nerd but puberty hit him a second time before college and now everyone wanted to be his friend or in his pants.

You also learned that even though he had a cocky reputation of being a little sleaze, he’d only slept with three girls in his lifetime and while one had been a one night stand, the others had been from serious relationships, which he included Brina in. Kissing was another story and so was getting his dick sucked, but it was just something you became envious of… not that you’d admit that to him yet.

“Do you have any classes today?” he asked through mumbles and his eyes fluttered closed, lashes fanning across his cheekbones. You shook your head with a soft hum. “No, I was just going to mope around all day and study,” you teased, though it was the truth, no matter how sad that made you look.

Peter grumbled and pulled you into his chest, mumbling out incoherent apologies into the pillow which you giggled in reply to and shook your head. “I’m just messing. Let’s just stay here and sleep,” you told him, cosying further into the bed. Peter hummed again and let you snuggle into his chest before he kissed the top of your head.

By the time you’d both drifted off into a much-needed sleep, Leone had been blowing up your phone nonstop and you’d completely slept through it. Which led to her almost knocking your door down at three in the afternoon with her insistent knocking. Peter had stirred before you and ninja-crawled out of the bed. The room was still dark and he tripped on his shoes on his way to the door when he opened it.

Leone’s worried expression had morphed to one of a surprise to one of anger in a half second and Peter swore he saw his life flash before his eyes with the steam of rage that burst from her ears. “Leone,” he piped up, voice unusually high-pitched and she pushed past him and into the room.

You were sitting up in the bed and rubbing your eyes when you saw her, head in flames in anger and all. “What are you doing here?” you mumbled out through a yawn and she scoffed. “What am I doing here? No, what the fuck is he doing here?” she seethed, jabbing her hand over her shoulder to Peter who remained by the door, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

You grimaced at her tone and let out a heavy sigh, throwing your head back into the pillow. “Explain,” she demanded, arms crossed over her chest. Before you could sit back up and tear into her, Peter cleared his throat while shoving his feet into his shoes. “Um, I’ll go, but I’ll see you tonight?” he asked, ignoring Leone’s death glare.

She didn’t take too well to the excuse that you’d mustered up on the spot. Apparently an urgent thing for Peter’s internship and a broken phone wasn’t a very believable or good enough excuse for her. In the following weeks, she seemed to have lightened up about the situation, no longer offering death glares or flipping him off every chance she got.

For three and a half weeks, you and Peter had grown inseparable. He’d switched seats and sat with you in class, kept you company during some of your shifts at the library where he’d bring you coffee and sit and study, or sometimes just ask you where certain books were that he absolutely had no need or interest in, but it was an excuse to talk to you without Mandy telling him off because it wasn’t a work-related question.

Late-night diner dates had become the norm for every Tuesday and Thursday night; feeding each other fries and sharing three milkshakes. Occasionally, Peter would show up with a few bruised knuckles and a grazed cheekbone but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. Though you hadn’t put a label on whatever the hell it was that you were doing, you still snuck kisses when no one was looking and held hands under the table like a bunch of preschoolers.

Neither of you was sure why you were so secretive about whatever you were, but maybe the little thrill you both got from kissing behind partially closed doors was the fun of it.

It was Friday night when Peter had texted you about his frats party… the same party he’d been telling you about all week and that you promised you’d go to. So, come 9 p.m. and you were outside in a tiny little cocktail dress, texting Pete that you were there. You didn’t wait for a reply but pocketed your phone in the little purse you took and made your way inside.

The party was in full swing; drunken bodies and puckered lips. Your shoulders had curled as you held yourself tightly. Parties still weren’t your thing, you’d only attended to see Peter again after a long week of barely seeing each other. Nerves fluttered in your stomach at the thought of seeing his cocky smile and cheeky wink.

But finding him wasn’t as easy as you’d hoped and after asking a few of his friends, they told you he was waiting for you in the yard. He was waiting for you. Giddy with excitement and nerves, you’d made your way pushing through horny college kids and toward the back door.

You push to your tiptoes and see those brown curls in the yard, your smile growing. You push past a few more and the breeze of the night air is an instant relief to your clammy skin. He hadn’t seen you yet, too busy in conversation with awkwardly dancing to the muffled music from inside. You made your way over, cheesy grin on your lips but a familiar brunette clung to his side and rubbed her lips over his neck before sucking like a fucking vacuum.

You didn’t standby to wait and see what he did back, instead you spun on your heels and crashed into a bunch of bodies and red solo cups. You didn’t bother to apologise like you usually would, instead you pushed past more partygoers and made your way further into the house.

Your head was swimming. You knew you never put labels on anything, that technically you weren’t dating but you were only seeing him… were you even seeing each other? Or was it just like flirtatious banter between two friendly people? Was the occasional kisses just a bit of fun for him? Did he not think of you as someone he’d like to date… as someone he was dating? Were you?

Too busy in your own dilemma, you missed the way Peter shoved Brina off him with disgust. You missed the way he told her to leave him the fuck alone, how she stomped off in a sulk and it wasn’t until a gentle hand had wrapped around your arm that you realised he was trying to follow you back into the house.

Without a word, Pete led you through the rowdy groups and up the stairs. You walked blindly with his hand on your waist guiding you. You hadn’t been upstairs yet, had no reason to, but as Peter stopped you from going further and quickly opened a door on the left, you figured you were about to get to know this part of the house a lot better.

Peter turned the light on and ushered you inside, closing the door behind you both and the obnoxious bassy music from downstairs was immediately muffled. You took in your surroundings.

The room was a decent size. There was a big double bed right pushed in the left corner, a dresser opposite it with a flatscreen on top. A large window was directly opposite the door and the curtains were already closed. A clear nightstand stood beside the bed and to the right of the room was a hole-in-the-wall-closet, a neatly organised desk and besides that, a door that you presumed lead to a small bathroom.

It was cosy; dark blue walls and white IKEA looking furniture. The bed sheets looked clean and the bed itself was made clearly in a rush. There was a pair of jeans flung over the desk chair and Peter’s backpack was slumped under the window. This was Peter’s room.

You crossed your arm over your chest and held your elbow, lips pursed as you stood idly. Peter rummaged through his dresser before pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a nerdy science joke shirt that you bit back a laugh at. “Here, go change,” he handed you the clothes and pointed to his bathroom door.

Once the door was closed behind you and you got a good look at yourself in the mirror, you took a quick, shaky breath. What now? You change into his clothes and go back to the party looking like you were ready for bed? If anything, after seeing a pair of lips locked on his neck, all you wanted to really do was go back to your dorm and maybe have a little cry.

But did you really have the right to be so upset? Yes, you did. You liked him and he told you he liked you, too. Of course, you were allowed to be upset. You shook your head and rid yourself of your clothes until you were in a pair of black lace panties and you shimmied into his sweats and shirt. By the time you were done and hand scrunched your dress up in your hands and left your heels by the sink, Peter was standing topless at the foot of his bed, turning on his TV.

Your throat felt tight and you shouldn’t have been blushing like you were because you’d seen him in his naked glory (save for the sheer blanket on his lap that night you first met), but now you were in his bedroom, in his clothes… alone. You cleared your throat, making your presence known. His red shirt from before was shoved on the floor by his dresser and his jeans were folded on his desk—and oh those sweats were hanging dangerously low on his hips.

He turned to you with a wide smile, a proud smirk of seeing you in his clothes and you pursed your lips. Taking your eyes away from his gorgeously perfect torso meant having to face the purple hickey in the room and you sighed silently. “I figured as your dress was ruined and all, we could camp out up here and watch a few movies?” He asked hopefully, though he had already put Netflix on and pulled the covers back a little.

Your eyes were too focused on his neck to really register what he was saying and he quickly followed your line of sight and frowned. “What are you…” he trailed off as he wandered to his desk, picking up the little mirror he had on there and his eyes widened in shock as he rubbed his neck and realised the darkening bruise wasn’t coming off.

“Guess you’ve been branded, huh,” you tried to joke but your words came out deadpanned. Peter continued his futile actions of scrubbing the skin of his neck raw, but it only somehow added to the darkness of the bruise. “No, no, no, no… that is not what it looks like, I swear,” he rushed out, spinning on his heels. You smiled through thin lips and shrugged your shoulders.

“I mean it looks like a hickey on your neck,” you solemnly replied, eyes glued to the ground and Peter stilled, lips parted and head tilted as he blinked at you. “I mean, yeah, it’s a hickey, but I– I wasn’t…” he didn’t quite know what he was supposed to say. Did he tell you that he didn’t know she gave him one? No, because then it looks like he was hooking up with a chick and he didn’t know she left evidence. Does he tell her he didn’t want her to leave one? No, because he would still look guilty.

His mouth blubbered like he was trying to find the right way to phrase it, but you spoke before he could. “Look, it’s whatever. We’re not dating or you know, like… we’re not… I mean are we even anything? You don’t have to explain yourself to me. You’re not my boyfriend, if you wanna have some other chick leech on your neck, that’s fine.” Your words were like vomit, just spewing past your lips with no control and left a bitter taste on your tongue.

What if you just fucked it all up? What if he decided you were right and that there never was and never would be anything but a friendship between you both?

The look on Peter’s face suggested otherwise. He looked confused, hurt and a glimmer in his eye promised fondness. What? Peter took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. You were sitting on the edge of the right side of his bed, hands in your lap and lips pursed.

“No,” he grumbled, hands falling to his sides and he looked at you like you put the stars in the sky and sitting in his clothes that were just a little too big, his heart swooned. “She just–she just came out of nowhere and I haven’t spoken to her since that night at the party when we met, okay. I swear,” he told you, hand on his heart and you knew he was being genuine and honest.

You can’t imagine he’d lie to you after he told you his biggest masked secret.

You sighed and rubbed your hands down your thighs. No matter how relieved and thankful you were for the explanation, you would much rather have preferred an answer as to what you were to him. “Like I said, we’re not dating… we never put any labels on whatever this is, so I don’t expect an explanation,” you reiterated, daring to look up into those honey glazed eyes.

Peter nodded softly, gnawing on his bottom lip. “No,” he mumbled through a croaky throat, a teasing smirk pulling on his lips. “But I really like you and I definitely wanna put a label on it,” he admitted with a cheeky smile and a blush was quick to sit on your cheeks again. He walked toward you slowly, like a lion stalking its prey and you shuffled back on his bed, eyes blown.

“And I get the feeling that you want that, too,” he mumbled, his nose bumping yours and your breathing hitched in your throat. He hadn’t kissed you yet but your entire body was igniting in flames, burning a hellfire that you knew was condemning you to him. Your eyes were fluttering closed as you slowly nodded your head and just like that, his lips were on yours.

Everything was heightened with the feeling of his silky lips on yours and you could barely make sense of anything else. Peter crawled between your legs and onto the bed until your back was flat against his sheets and he laid between your thighs. Your fingers found purchase in his curls as his lips enveloped yours in a passionate frenzy.

Peter pinned his hands on either side of your head, hips gently rolling against yours and as your (his) shirt rolled up your torso, you felt the warm skin of his abdomen graze against your stomach and you were blinded. His touch was warm, kiss intoxicating and as Peter licked at your bottom lip before curling his tongue into your parted mouth, you lost all grip on reality.

You kissed him harder, eager, dirtier. Your hips rolled up off the bed and into his crotch, your own confidence shocking you but you weren’t going to back down. Peter groaned into the kiss, sitting up on his knees slightly and he reached for your wrists, pulling your hands from his hair and pinning them to the bed above your head.

He pulled out of the kiss, eyes blown and staring down at you. You were panting beneath him, lips swollen and eyes glassy. You were putty in his hands and he fucking knew it. “Please,” you whimpered into his mouth, a breathy moan fanning across his lips and Peter released one hand on your wrist and bunched up the hem of your shirt.

You nodded against the kiss, the silent permission he was looking for and he pulled back to tug it up and over your body. Your breasts were plump and full, nipples pearling in excitement and he let out a shaky breath. “Could’ve told me you weren’t wearing a bra,” he swallowed thickly, hands cupping the underside of your boobs and you let out a nervous giggle, eyes fluttering closed when his lips wrapped around your left nipple and sucked.

Your chest arched into his face, both hands tangled in his brown locks in attempt to keep his head where it was. Peter hummed against you, flicking his tongue over the swollen nub and you could feel your pussy fluttering beneath his touch. You were growing eager as he alternated and paid attention to the neglected breast, loving all over your chest but you needed more.

“Pete, please just touch me,” you cried breathlessly into the air, eyes fluttering helplessly and Peter hummed again. He reached a hand between your thighs and fingered his way into your pyjama pants and whimpered against your chest. No panties. The tip of his middle finger nudged gently against your clit and you gasped, fucking desperate to be touched properly.

Peter slid his finger further down, collecting your juices and swirling it around your hole. You shuddered against his lips, head rolling back and his lips fell onto your naked chest, peppering your collarbones in kisses. He pulled his hand from your pants and crawled down your body, tugging off your leggings and panties.

You whimpered, bottom lip sucked into your mouth and your eyes fluttered closed. You wanted nothing more than to watch him between your thighs but an overwhelming insecurity riddled your mind and you couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes.

Peter kissed and nipped at your inner spread thighs, licking stripes and blowing cool air against the damp skin. Your hands flew to his hair, fingers ruffling his curls and Peter’s cock strained at the sight of you. Pussy swollen and soaked, chest heaving and the swells of your breasts gently bounced with each shaky breath you took.

He pulled back just enough to pull his shirt from his torso and throw it blindly across the room. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he coaxed your eyes open, massaging your thighs and you let out a deep breath. He nestled between them again, hot breath on your core.

“Wanna see you when I make you cum with my mouth,” Peter whispered. You didn’t have time to react to what he said before he was swiping a long lick up the length of your pussy and sucking your throbbing clit into his warm mouth.

With a sharp intake of breath, you arched off the bed and rolled your hips against his face. Your head fell back against the pillow, eyes rolling as he suckled on your nub and flicked his tongue across it sporadically.

Everything was almost too much when he teased two slender fingers into your hole, massaging and curling in a come hither motion. You shuddered under his touch, tugging harder at his curls and he hummed against your pussy, the vibrations sending shock waves through your body in the most electrifying sensation.

“Pete, oh my God,” you whimpered breathlessly, desperate and eager to catch a breath but he had no mercy, sucking and licking and fingering faster with every pant you choked on.

Peters hands on your thighs tightened, squeezing hard enough that his fingernails began to dig into the meaty flesh, creating half-moons in your skin. You couldn’t feel the pain of it, though… just the undeniable pleasure as your coil began to tighten and legs began to shake.

“I’m gonna… Pete, I’m gonna…”

But he pulled away abruptly off your clit and knelt between your thighs. “Changed my mind,” he grumbled out, awkwardly shuffling out of his pants and boxers, throwing them across the room blindly and his leaking cock bounced. “Wanna make you cum on my cock instead,” he grinned.

You let out an involuntary moan, hips thrashing uncontrollably in excitement and need. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this needy, but you were certain you’d explode if he didn’t touch you right away. You nodded quickly and sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, biting back cries of desperation.

Peter watched in awe as your body twisted when you reached into your nightstand, retrieving a condom, but a bright pink friend of yours caught his attention before you shut the drawer. He leapt forward and held your wrist, reaching for the little bullet and sitting back on his heels between your thighs with a sick smirk.

He didn’t miss the way your cheeks flushed crimson, or how you completely avoided eye contact and refused to look at the vibrator you used whenever Loraine was out for the night. Instead, you stared up at the ceiling, ready for the ground to swallow you whole.

But then you heard the vibrations sound through the near-silent room and your body jolted as it was pressed against your clit, a long mewl drawing from your lips. Peter smirked and reached for your hand, guiding it to your pussy to hold the vibrator in place, resting on the hood of your clit.

You watched with hooded eyes as Peter tore the condom wrapper open with his teeth and slowly slid the rubber over his thick length. He watched your pussy pulse and clench around nothing, a groan reverberating through his chest and as he slid his length between your folds, a shallow gasp tore through yours.

Peter could feel the vibrations from your toy as your walls clenched around him. He slid in further, grip hard on your wrist but your eyes were rolling back at the stimulation you were getting from him and the toy at the same time. You bit back a cry as he bottomed out, cock thick and long and almost tearing you in half.

“Holy shit, you’re so tight,” he praised breathlessly after finding his pace. High pitched moans and whines were spilling from your tongue like honey and he was soaking them up, loving the sight of your tits shaking gently as your thighs trembled and chest heaved.

“Fuck, Peter… faster, please,” you choked out, one hand holding the vibe in place while the other gripped at your breasts—alternating between the two and tugging sharply on your nipples. Peter cursed out a sigh and picked up his pace, pounding sporadically into you, his balls slapping at your ass.

Your back arched off the mattress when he hit a spot he hadn’t before and a shriek was quick to follow. His hidden eyes lit up as he fucked into you harder—faster. “Like that, baby? You like that, huh? Right there,” he seethed through gritted teeth.

Your eyes were rolling, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth and the squelching sounds of his cock tearing your pussy apart was music to your ears. You were incoherent, unable to form sentences or utter words other than muffed yes, yes, yes’ into the void.  

Your entire body felt like it was on fire and for a moment, you were certain your soul left your body as you cake hard all over his cock, screaming and crying his name as you blubbered and trembled under him. The sounds of your desperate cries only spurred him on to chase his release harder and he exploded in the condom, body falling on top of yours and he trapped the vibratory between your abdomens.

Coming down from your high, you didn’t feel the crushing weight of his body on yours until you tried to pull the vibe away but your arm was trapped. Peter buried his face into the crook of your neck, peppering kisses and mumbling words of praise and encouragement softly in your ear.

He finally pulled off you and took the vibe away from your throbbing core, turning it off and leaving it to lay beside you on the bed. Peter pulled out slowly, your whines of protest not falling on death ears and he tugged off the rubber and tied it into a knot. He let you lay there for a moment, in your post-orgasmic haze.

You wondered what he’d do now. Would he cuddle you and hold you? Ask you to leave? Act like it never happened? You expected the worst, prepared yourself for it in the twelve seconds he left you alone for. But when you felt a cool cloth on your core wiping your down, and a gentle hand caressing your ankles, tears began to pool in your eyes.

Peter noticed, of course, he did. He somehow always managed to notice a change within you. He frowned, taking in your teary eyes that were definitely not from the orgasm. “Hey, Princess… what is it? Did I do something wrong?” he worried, second thoughts swarming through his mind that maybe you didn’t like it as much as he thought, or maybe you felt pressured into sleeping with him or—

“No, you’re perfect,” you choked a teary laugh. “You’re so perfect and I don’t deserve perfect. I don’t deserve you,” you explained through sniffles. Peters frown grew thicker and he crawled up your body, covering you with a blanket as he laid beside you.

“What are you talking about?” He asked softly, hand reaching over to cup your cheek and you nuzzled into his touch, letting him wipe his thumb beneath your eye to smear away the tears. You flittered your gaze over to him and pursed your lips, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and exposed.

“Cause boys like—“

“I don’t wanna hear you say that ever again.” His stern voice cut you off before you could finish and you pursed your lips shut, eyes widening. Peter’s lips were in a tight line as he sat you both up just enough to cup your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him and listen to what he had to say.

“Don’t you dare say that ever again. I’m falling in love with you and that whole boys like you bullshit is just that. Bullshit.”

You blinked.

Peter swallowed.

“You’re what…”

Peter’s cheeks burned red and staring at you for a moment, he realised that though he didn’t mean to say it, he meant it. “I’m falling in love with you, Y/N.”

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker smut #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #imagine peter parker #peter parker imagines #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #marvel imagine #marvel smut #marvel imagines #imagine marvel

[magpiemorality]

alright. i have to get it asked. “roommates who never see each other because they work opposite shifts, but now they’re stuck in quarantine and w h o o p s you’re kind cute but also a lil bit of an asshole how long do we have to be quarantined?? oh nooooooo “ w any couple u want!! even a throuple!!!

It’s been a long time coming but here we go! With misunderstandings, pining, denial and a happy ending :D I considered splitting this into parts but it works best as a whole so here you go! 

Love In The Time Of Quarantine

3900 words on the dot. 

AO3

***

The quarantine was a bit of a bummer. It could’ve been worse, Logan reasoned, because he at least could work from home and keep busy, and he had never worried too much about getting out and being social. He was extraordinarily lucky to be exactly where he would have wanted to be for such an event, well-stocked, well-paid and comfortable.

Unfortunately the same could not be said for his housemates. There were three of them sharing the place, a three-bedroom apartment at the top of a tall block on the outskirts of the city centre. It was nice enough, paid for by three reasonable wages, and had trees and a little park visible from the windows. Logan mostly worked freelance as an IT specialist of all kinds; Patton was apparently a nanny who worked out of home a lot, he knew thanks to the single swift conversation they’d had when the guy had first moved in, caring for his charges at their own home a few blocks away; and Remus was… Logan actually wasn’t sure about him. He was out overnight, coming back early morning to sleep through the day, and didn’t seem to have any specific equipment or work clothing that gave any clues about his job.

In any case, with their contrasting hours and jobs the three of them hadn’t had much of a chance to chat at any point since moving in, and no one had been the first to take the first step in initiating contact. Everyone just cohabited peacefully and that was perfectly fine, suiting them all well enough. But with the quarantine? Things were already changing fast, and the previously calm, quiet and spacious apartment wasn’t going to remain all those things for much longer.

“Oh good morning, Logan!” Patton chirped at 6:00AM on the first Monday morning stuck at home, as Logan dragged himself into the kitchen for his wake up coffee. Logan blinked, staring at what seemed to be most of their food supplies laid out in an enormous breakfast on the kitchen table, everything very neatly arranged and cut into small, bite-sized pieces. “I made breakfast!”

“You, certainly did…” Logan agreed, a little weak with shock. “Aren’t we supposed to be conserving food, however?”

Patton blinked at him, his eyes going wide behind his glasses. He clapped a hand over his mouth with a gasp. Logan was surprised his eyes didn’t fill with glittery tears, honestly, with the drama of the rest of the display. “Oh gosh, you’re right! How could I forget?! Oh I’m so sorry, Logan, I’ll go out and replace everything right away, oh no-”

“N-no,” Logan said slowly. “No, Patton you’re not allowed out. That’s the whole point.”

“Not allowed out at all?!” Patton replied, aghast, incidentally summoning their third roommate with the commotion. As Logan tried to placate the inconsolable nanny, promising him that that was an exaggeration and he absolutely could go out but it really was better not to unless there was no other option; the mysterious Remus appeared in the kitchen doorway, rumpled from sleep and not wearing anything but a shirt and some novelty Thanksgiving turkey underwear. Boxers, thank goodness, but still covering no way near enough for what was almost appearing in public, considering how little they all knew each other.

At least the intrusion stopped Patton’s panic, Logan thought, clearing his throat loudly as Patton stared and turned darker and darker pink in the cheeks. Remus was already piling food into his arms (oh okay, they were quite nice arms actually, maybe Patton had the right idea) and mouth, and he didn’t react to Logan’s attempt to politely indicate to him that his behaviour was a little inappropriate. He just nodded and winked at a brightly blushing Patton, and carried his hoard away back to his room. Patton just quietly and heavily sat down at the kitchen table and started absentmindedly smearing cream cheese onto a bagel, and after a moment Logan joined him, silently reaching for the toast.

Well. That was. Hopefully not an indication of how things were going to be from now on. Hopefully. Please?

Unfortunately (or fortunately from some angles) Remus continued to not wear many clothes. It was a terrible problem that both Patton and Logan had strangely and somewhat awkwardly bonded over. The first time the nanny had muttered something profane under his breath as their partial-nudist housemate wandered away back to his room after another appearance in search of food, Logan had stared at him with his mouth hanging open, trying to process those words coming from that mouth. Patton had just sighed and rolled his eyes, folding his arms defensively. “Just because I work with children doesn’t mean I can’t have a good swear now and then, Logan. I mean, you’ve seen that man’s ass!”

Logan had, indeed, seen that man’s ass. It just so happened to be one of those more fortunate angles, and Remus still apparently had something against wearing pants.

Bonding over Remus’s (admittedly very nice) body notwithstanding; the two of them actually got along pretty well. Perhaps it was being used to not having much of a social life that meant they were very comfortable and happy to just hang out quietly together, with Patton sat down at the coffee table embroidering or working on some fan art he apparently had quite the talent for, and Logan reading on one of the couches nearby. He would’ve gone so far as to work out in the living area because Patton was fantastic company and great for his motivation, but the effort involved in moving his entire workstation and cables was beyond reason, and the constant risk of being utterly derailed in whatever he was doing by Remus sashaying past sort of outweighed the benefits of having Patton there. Logan still had to actually get his work done in order to earn a living, after all.

And Remus sashayed a lot. At first it had just been once in the morning and evening as he ended and started his day respectively, probably as a result of the long-term night shift pattern, Logan reckoned. But then as Remus continued to be unable to go back into work he evidently started moving his daily pattern around somewhat. Logan would hear him moving around longer after breakfast, and his music or the sound of whatever he was watching on his laptop (Logan didn’t particularly want to listen too closely but sometimes it was hard not to, having the room that shared a wall), would stop earlier in the night.

He started to strut around more and more often while they were up and out in the living areas, grabbing snacks or wandering around for a stretch, coming to ask Patton what he was doing and leaning far closer than was necessary as Patton blushed his way through an explanation, stammering whenever Remus complimented his work effusively. He was quite the flirt, was Remus, Logan could tell. The guy full on preened at the way Patton’s eyes followed him, and he seemed to take great delight in making the nanny sigh by stretching in just the right way. More than once Patton had pricked his finger with his needle by letting his gaze linger a second too long, or cursed under his breath as he messed up a line on his tablet.

Logan was unaffected of course. Except for the times he had ended up rereading the same page of his book over and over again until Remus was long gone and his brain came back into focus. But those didn’t count! They didn’t count, Patton, stop laughing.

But there was another issue with Remus; he was increasingly messy the more time he spent at home. Patton was pretty clean, used to tidying up after a pair of rambunctious under-tens, and Logan barely made any mess in the first place, eating what Patton cooked and helping clean the dishes afterwards, sticking to his carefully planned laundry routine and rarely deviating. But Remus was just made of mess. He dropped clothing around the bathroom; he left dishes and mugs around; he seemed to order stuff a lot despite the whole quarantine situation (Logan frequently tutted when yet another poor delivery person showed up) and there were piles of cardboard boxes building up in the entrance to their apartment.

When Remus peeled his sock off and scratched at his foot, one afternoon, Logan narrowed his eyes. When Remus got up, leaving it on the arm of the couch when he left to go to his bedroom, Logan finally decided he’d had enough.

“Remus!” He snapped, striding to his room and standing in the doorway before the door could close. Remus turned around with an innocent blink, opening his mouth to say something with a smirk, but Logan got there first. “Do you mind. We’re all having to live in this apartment together and keeping it tidy is important to both me and Patton!”

Remus tilted his head, his eyebrows rising swiftly at the lecture and his smirk dropping in surprise. Patton appeared behind Logan in the hallway, hovering uncertainly. “I reckon Patton can speak for himself, actually,” Remus muttered, folding his arms over his chest with what appeared to Logan to be an actual pout. On a grown man, who was clearly in the wrong. Honestly.

“Oh well, yes. I would like it if you could perhaps… just keep your clothes to your room?” Patton asked weakly. “After all, a tidy house is a tidy mind! We’ll feel a lot better in a clean environment. And… it is a little icky.”

“Fine,” Remus sighed. “I’ll keep it tidy, no more ‘icky’.” Logan nodded in satisfaction and turned to leave but Remus, damn him, had to have the last word, voice dripping with innocent earnestness. “You should’ve said something before if it meant so much to you, guys!”

Patton made a quick excuse Logan away before he could explode, and they both missed the soft sigh behind the door to Remus’s room as it closed.

To be fair to Remus, he was very tidy after that. Remarkably so, in fact, just like he had been before the quarantine had taken effect. Not so much in his room, from the glimpses Logan got inside, but certainly in the rest of the apartment. Annoyingly he’d also apparently taken the confrontation as a good enough first interaction to invite himself into hang out time, somehow not sensing the animosity that radiated from Logan anytime they were in the same room.

Sure, it was his apartment too, and he was equally stuck in it, and when he helped out with the cooking it often resulted in exciting and fun recipes, and he had great taste in movies, and he also brought his something or other console out to hook up to the TV so they could play multiplayer games (after another delivery of extra controllers, of course), but. But! Logan was still never not on edge around him. Remus just… rubbed him the wrong way.

Oh god, wrong word choice there.

Patton of course got on famously with their troublemaker within the space of a few days, and started up a fierce and ongoing online Monopoly game that it seemed no one could win. Perhaps it was his experience with children, Logan thought snidely to himself on more than one occasion. He would hear them laughing together and watch Remus’s hands creeping lower and lower on Patton’s back day by day as they playfully pushed and sat near to each other, until Logan decided to just start spending more time on his work to avoid the inevitable heart attack from how high his blood pressure must be getting. And anyway he’d really let work go, what with spending so much time with Patton instead of on his projects. Just because there was a world crisis going on didn’t mean he didn’t have rent to pay. If only!

But of course Patton didn’t get the memo that this was the best course of action, and quickly grew concerned for Logan’s well-being. He instated a nightly dinner for the three of them, that he deviously used his best pleading expression to get Logan to attend, where Remus was just insufferably flirty and Logan ended up increasingly annoyed at being constantly teased. It just wasn’t very nice of Remus to taunt him with false flattery and it didn’t help that Patton had apparently moved from being equally as flustered as Logan by their hot housemate to being sort of fondly amused, in a way that spoke of… a new intimacy.

It only added to Logan’s dislike of his housemate when he walked past Remus’s bedroom to see them standing close together in the centre of the room, heads tilted so he couldn’t see their faces. He could see other things though, like the way Patton’s hands gripped at Remus’s waist, and Remus’s hand in Patton’s hair.

So that just added the cherry on top of the whole perfect box of proof of why Remus sucked, basically. He had not only stolen Logan’s precious peaceful friendship with Patton, and lured away all of Patton’s soft and warming smiles, but apparently didn’t even value them enough to not openly flirt with Logan whenever they were in the same room. Logan wished desperately that he didn’t still feel that irritating modicum of attraction to the man, because he really was stellar at flirting and could be incredibly charming, but he resigned himself to burying those feelings along with the hurt at how Patton had chosen Remus over him. Burying them deep, and trying to go back to how things were, before the quarantine.

And if anyone could play polite and distant, it was Logan, poster boy for IT nerds everywhere. Antisocial was basically his speciality.

He hadn’t bet on Patton.

Patton was the type of person who really took 'mom friend’ to a whole new level, and only partly because his actual literal paid job was to essentially be a stand in parent. When Logan started to pull away again he yanked back, pouting and wheedling and playing really dirty until Logan started coming back out into the living room for reading breaks again, just to stop Patton from bringing him cups of water and snacks every half an hour 'to make sure he was feeling okay’. They both knew well enough that the ulterior motive was to stop Logan from isolating himself and playing the wounded martyr, and damn it if it didn’t work. Patton was a master of this game.

“Logan, what do you think of this flower?” Patton would ask if Logan ended up in the kitchen for coffee, drawing him into a conversation about his latest embroidery project.

“Logan! Could you pop the kettle on?” Patton would smile sweetly if Logan got up from the couch, intending to go back to his room at last, easily conning him into bringing two mugs back to the couch and then distracting him again until an hour had gone by and Logan was still sat with them.

“Oh there you are Logan, settle this for me, do these stars look realistic?” Patton would bat his eyelashes if Logan finished a bathroom break, and Logan would just sigh and give in, and Remus would stifle a snicker from his own spot on the couch. Remus had also evidently been coached by Patton because he was noticeably quieter and more reserved whenever Logan had finally tentatively settled in the living room with them. Which was a real improvement, if you asked Logan.

But he still wasn’t friends with Remus, and he refused to let that last barrier be breached, even when Remus sneakily tried to join his conversations or get him to pass something at dinner, or tease him about his hair, his clothes, his work… Remus was the worst and Logan could not be convinced otherwise. His plan of hiding away from his housemates had failed because he liked Patton enough to give in just to make him happy, not because Remus was reasonably good company when he was just lounging on the couch and playing some video game with the sound considerately turned down, chipping in here and there and laughing softly at something either Logan or Patton said but not getting in the way. Even so! Logan still heard the sound of footsteps sneaking from Remus’s room to Patton’s late at night, and Remus still insisted on giving him winks and stupid seductive looks whenever he could, telling him he 'liked his company’ and he was 'actually pretty funny who knew’ and 'there’s no one to dress up for here Logan, why don’t you lose the tie?’

“I just don’t like him!” Logan hissed to his reflection one day in the bathroom. “He’s clearly dating Patton, not that either of them have said a word, and he keeps just flirting all over the place! Patton deserves better! And he’s a jerk. I like my tie! I like to maintain professional standards even if he’s decided clothes are the first to go in this time of chaos. Ugh!” He glared, yanking the tie in question off angrily and glaring at it. Maybe he’d thought he looked nice dressed up sharply with his tie and hair neatly combed each day, maybe he’d been thinking of the time Patton had complimented the little stars on the navy fabric. Maybe it was none of Remus’s business how he dressed!

“Hey, you done?” The very man in question’s voice came from the other side of the bathroom door. “I need to pee!”

Logan raised an eyebrow at his reflection, considering it. He was almost petty enough to refuse, but as always was unable not to give in, settling for yanking the door open slightly too hard. Remus, who had apparently been leaning on it for some stupid reason, stumbled inwards a bit, catching his balance on Logan’s hips. They blinked at each other, and Logan knew the moment Remus decided to say something cheeky because his eyes glinted and his mouth turned up at the corners. But not today, Satan!

“You say a word and I will tell Patton what a disrespectful boyfriend you are! I mean it!” Logan hissed, shoving Remus’s hands off with a glare and waggin a finger in his face.

“I- what the f-”

“Don’t you dare flirt with me!”

“Did you say boyfriend?!” Remus said, voice strangled, holding his hands up in the air out of the way.

“Boyfriend?” Patton said from behind them in the hall. “What boyfriend?”

Logan spluttered. “Yours! He’s trying to, to seduce me!”

All of their voices rose at once, Logan protesting his disappointment in Remus’s inability to be attentive to Patton; Patton trying to weakly protest the label and situation; and Remus protesting his accused infidelity. Louder and louder they got, stood awkwardly half in, half out of the bathroom, until Remus growled and grabbed Logan by the shoulders.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Logan!” He snapped. “So I’m going to kiss you now, unless you tell me not to.”

What.

Logan’s mouth opened and closed, cheeks on fire, like flames on the side of his face. He didn’t manage say a word, and Remus nodded decisively to himself, hauling the flustered Logan in for a strangely sweet kiss considering the tension in the air.

It didn’t last long, but Logan felt like he’d awoken into a different universe when Remus pulled back again, looking at him carefully. “Well?” He asked. Logan wondered why Remus would sound like he couldn’t breathe when clearly he’d stolen all of Logan’s air. “Does that compute, I, Lo-bot?”

Logan frowned a little at the nickname, but Remus’s expression was slightly nervous and mostly hopeful, not cruel or mean looking. And Patton, when Logan glanced over Remus’s shoulder, was holding his hands clasped in front of his mouth, eyes huge and round, bouncing a little with what looked like excited anticipation. “Um. That- Excuse me, I seem to have misunderstood a few things.”

“Yeah no kidding,” Remus muttered. “Alright, ask your questions science dude.”

“You aren’t with Patton?”

“Ah well, sort of?” Patton stepped a little closer, lowering his hands to smile at them, hooking his chin over Remus’s shoulder. “It’s not like, exclusive, that’s not really the point. And not your thing, right?” He murmured to Remus, who shook his head, eyes still on Logan.

Okay, add that to the 'known facts’ memory banks to add to the equation then. “So you aren’t cheating on Patton by flirting with me?”

“No!” Patton and Remus replied at the same time, sounding equally offended.

“Okay! Sorry. But you were actually flirting with me?” Logan checked.

The question received a snort and an eye roll. “I mean, yeah. I thought you were just playing hard to get, you kept ogling me so I figured you were definitely interested. But then you got all huffy, so I tried to cool it a bit and Patton said you might be jealous of us a little bit, but then you kept giving me all these like, looks, so I went back to like, trying to be nice and everything but you still just…” Remus shrugged helplessly.

Right, yes. The glances, the blushing… In his own defence he had mostly written it all off as just anger, but it was fair enough that Remus had interpreted the attention a little differently based on the whole fact that he was unaware Logan thought he was cheating.“And… you would like to develop some form of… alternative relationship with myself as well?”

“Yeah!” Patton interrupted, grinning his sweet, bright grin. He slipped a hand past Remus’s waist to take Logan’s hand and squeeze it. “All three of us, doesn’t that sound cool?! I mean, uh, if you want me too, that’s okay if not, I can just share this gu-”

“Oh god yes,” Logan nearly burst with the words. “I mean, yes! I would- yes. Hm. That would be very pleasing. And intriguing. I wonder how-”

Remus tugged him back in close, cupping his face right there in the bathroom doorway with a grin that turned wry. “Oh Logan. I can show you pleasing. But first I gotta pee guys, genuinely!”

They let Remus escape and close the door, and Patton gently led Logan out to the living room, sitting close beside him and turning to face him.

He cleared his throat softly, and Logan thought the nanny looked really beautiful with his cheeks all softly pink, giving him one of those treasured smiles that wiped all thoughts of logistics and practicalities and regrets away. “So. Not a bad way to pass the quarantine then, you reckon?” Patton murmured, brushing some of Logan’s hair back behind his ear and resettling his glasses neatly on his nose for him, before leaning in to steal a kiss of his own.

No, Logan thought a few nights later; sandwiched between his two housemates on the floor, lounging on the cushions they’d laid out for a movie night and warm from their body heat, the way Remus stroked his hair and made constant amusing comments on the movie, and how Patton was cuddling his arm and playing with his fingers, occasionally burying his face into Logan’s shoulder to smother his giggles.

Not a bad way at all.

–

The End

#writepie #intrulogical #logicality #intruality #moduke #intrulogicality #ts remus #ts patton #ts logan #ts writing #ts sanders sides #ts sanders sides aus #ts sanders sides fic #sanders sides #pining #coronavirus #quarantine

[tomatograter]

Do you have a list anywhere of your favorite hs fics?

I suppose it’s appropriate I make one now! will prolly come back to add on at some point, but as it stands

HERE’S THE FIC RECS: (it is quite long, click the readmore)

Last updated Sept 10 2021 !

Perpetuity => https://archiveofourown.org/works/12835047

Written pre-epilogues, largely about mending damaged bridges after the game. I always mention this fic as what settled me back into hs as a fandom and dirk/jake

A Palate Cleanser  =>  https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642637

The jake eulogy we missed on candy. it’s real good. (now with a podfic version on the second chapter!!!!)

It’s only a canvas sky

==> https://archiveofourown.org/works/28718544

Their guardians dead at the hands of the Condesce, growing up in the shadow of her slow takeover of the Skaian Federation, Dirk Strider and Jake English have spent their whole lives alone up until shortly before their twelfth birthdays.

Or: Dirk fixes a transmitter, makes a friend, builds a robot, and tries to communicate affection over distance to the barest possible minimum.

(A good mix of fluff/angst/yearning, captures early & friendship dirkjake REALLY well, a good analogue au to their canon upbringing!!)

Sburgatoria  => https://archiveofourown.org/works/20726822/chapters/49242167

What if we were four lesbians stuck in an uncanny valley real housewives purgatory-esque-suburbia and we bickered then kissed 😳

Prologos 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23961157

“Sadstuck for the discerning jakeliker”

Magnesium Ion, Porphyrin Ring  => https://archiveofourown.org/works/21787465/chapters/51988876

Jade + Jake exploration throughout their growing up years, the relationship they had to their guardians and to one another between split realities and time. 

I Know What You Think Of Me  =>  https://archiveofourown.org/works/21516589

You never knew you wanted vriska and jake to be friends but now…. you do! and they’re going to gut a mountain of salmon to get there. Hilariously masterful vrisrezi to boot.

What Happens In-Between =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24240424/chapters/58409713

i KNOW you aren’t done with jaded fisheries observer vriska just yet and for that i’m thankful to say, we have a sequel, and dirk is in it to her great annoyance

Drive it home with one headlight  => https://archiveofourown.org/works/19281412/chapters/45856705

The Hitchhikers Guide to Your Ex-Boyfriend ==>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25747519/chapters/62875855

EXTENSIVELY ILLUSTRATED!!!! Post-canon fanadventure focusing on jake, brain ghost dirk, and a very concerned third party inhabiting jake’s brain that isn’t all too happy with the current turn of dubiously canon events. Still updating, very fun and smart.

The Four Kings, the God Thief, and the Black Diamond Pirates =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17886581/chapters/42220607

DIRK AND VRISKA. PIRACY. SONG. HOES (JAKE)

Sea shanties for Thots (Four kings sequel) =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22210135/chapters/53028541

jake needs to adjust to his new life and occupation overseas, ft; more songs, more piracy, and schrodinger’s hoe. Extensively jake-introspective, told through his POV.

Song of the Pyre =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10875459/chapters/24161439

EPIC SCALE vrisrezi space opera ft. hardass legislacerator Terezi & outlaw Vriska being forced to work together after they sort-of-accidentally kill terezi’s shitty clown ex. Feelings are caught, trials are held, there’s a revolution coming. Delightfully written. Reads as pretty solid and complete despite the 19/21 chapters done - ACT 1 counts as a book of its own, ACT 2 is solid.

Pilot Light, Pale rapture (full series)  => https://archiveofourown.org/series/1403233

“They want you on Olympus, they want you on a faraway star watching the planet turn benignly. They want the original Gods in the four corners of the earth, protectors in an invisible palace. “And the Witch sat vigil in her southern eastmost realm, looking down upon her descendants,” they’d say, “and saw that it was good.

You do not have an Olympus. You have a house that smells like burnt toast, because Davepeta did just that only an hour ago.”

Prospit kids + Really Good and Fun earth C shenanigans ensue. Incredible insightful exploration on Jade, her childhood, and mostly what happens after the curtains close and she finally has time to be awake.

After Meat, Aftermath. (full series)  => https://archiveofourown.org/series/1420354

In one universe, college!au Rose lalonde takes barre classes. In another, arguably more relevant one, Rosebot peers into her life. this will lead to inevitable chaos. incredible rose + kanaya + vriska + jake + dirk focus and one of my fav AU’s.

*below are my favorite dirk-focused works:*

Detective Pony

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2427119/chapters/5371283

At first I didn’t include this one, having taken for granted that everyone had read it already, but I think as of ‘21 the fandom is a bit different and not many have. Facts being: this is the definitive solo Dirk Strider story; seamless with the detective pony book dirk edits in homestuck-proper, deeply indulgent, funny, and cathartic, one might even say. Also an audiobook and a webseries, if that’s more up to your speed!

A Eulogy for Laplace’s Demon  (After Meat, Aftermath spinoff)  =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20047735/chapters/47475769

A good jump-in point for AM,A but hugely more focused on dirk arguing with his own demons. Doesn’t pull any punches.

Dualshock Desertbloom =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18428552/chapters/43651733

Dirk wakes up in a scalding liminal space and splinters his beta self out of his body like an amoeba parting in two. It’s a Predicament. They have to learn how to cohabitate if they want to try to figure out what the fuck is going on, and Dirk can’t help but prod and poke around to learn more about his twisted-funhouse-mirror-self along the way. Really meaty character-study, some of my favorite dirkvoice (and brovoice) passages are definitely all over here.

House of Dirk => https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156126/cha pters/45530146

dirk and caliborn, in a sitcom, holding hands. nothing bad could ever possibly happen

Timaeus, Testified. => https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479223/chapters/46368625

“go crazy go stupid!!!!!!” - dirk strider, metamonster

*Fun / short / thoughtful stories:*

Two idiots at Homoville, N69, TX

==> https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130925

Dirk freaks out and goes on r/relationships to try and figure out how to mend the semi-relationship he has with his weird roommate. (hint: his name starts with J)

Light Without Effulgence

==> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25986289

Rose is having a writer’s block. Jake is bored in the middle of his family’s own vacation. They sit down to mercilessly pick at each other’s brains, and the results may surprise you (not clickbait)

Interrogating the text from the wrong perspective  => https://archiveofourown.org/works/615521

(Calliope and Rose have fandom wars. Its really funny)

Witching Hour  =>  https://archiveofourown.org/works/12620732

Eschewal  =>  https://archiveofourown.org/works/4284384

jake goes ham

Dreamscapers => https://archiveofourown.org/works/22455073/chapters/53653849

Stygian blue =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23946412/chapters/57588850

Terezi and brain ghost Vriska have a conversation. (illustrated!!!)

Bitter =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30871334

Jaw-dropping JadeRose comic oneshot; meta, jealousy, crushes, and girls being a little off.

*FANADVENTURE CORNER:*

CHOICELESS HOPE

==> https://archiveofourown.org/works/28100313/chapters/68850048#workskin

Your name is TEREZI PYROPE.

You have been searching the depths of the FURTHEST RING for CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND, PRETEENHOOD NEMESIS, TEEN SWEETDIAMOND, and POSSIBLE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE, VRISKA SERKET, for what may or may not have been THREE MONTHS.

-

Near the start of her search for Vriska, Terezi is offered a choice.

KITTYQUEST

==> https://mspfa.com/?s=32792&p=2

Centuries in the future, the daughter of jade harley and davepeta pierces together what it is like to grow up knowing your parents and much of your extended family are immortal beings. Incredible art, lots of really really fun cameos and incredible worldbuilding (Not epilogue compliant, barely credits compliant, remains one of my favorite extended pocket universes to this day.)

FAILURE TO LAUNCH

==> https://mspfa.com/?s=34750&p=1

It’s june egbert’s first night out! From the official TV programme summary; “Starring the one and only JUNE EGBERT! Who knows what shenanigans will ensue… Wild hootenannies? Late night pizza picnics? ROMANCE??? Tune in and find out on FAILURE TO LAUNCH!” this can only ever end well, right?

THERAPYSTUCK

==> https://mspfa.com/?s=36345&p=3

That’s right, buckos. The lot of you are going to therapy. Turns out after a member of the tight-knit god community (Sollux) decides to seek a little help, more shenanigans were sure to follow.

#fic rec #updated sporadically

[jenniferxprentiss]

You Are In Love -> 9/?

chapter nine. three hearts.

Will had done exactly what Emily warned her he would do, told her he was coming and canceled a little under an hour before the appointment. The way he treated JJ and their unborn child never failed to fill Emily with a seething anger, heart racing and breath quickening at only the thought of him. She had to suppress a smile at the memory of the sickening crack when her fist connected with his face, easily one of the proudest moments of her adult life.

hi! okay. this has been SUCH A LONG WAIT for y’all. and I hope this little bit of fluff brings you all some joy as I get into the *real* plot of this fic. as always, the biggest of thank yous goes out to my group chat for always inspiring me and helping me with my writing — and reminding me to take breaks. without you all, this fic wouldn’t exist. so thank you. I love u all. ALSO. a oneshot & 2 chapters to fics in a weekend? y’all do be blessed.

tag list? tag list. lmk if u wanna be added xo. @jjsgirlfriend @whiskey-fluent @babyblockcolorcat @criminalmindsgonewrong @heat-waveee @anepiphany @j3mily @dont-trustyourfeelings @blakes-dictionxry @clockedstar @ellegreenawy

————

Fuck Will.

Fuck Will for being the deadbeat father she knew he was going to be, for stringing JJ along and never following through. Emily tapped her fingers impatiently against the steering wheel, stuck in bumper to bumper traffic — just her luck as she was trying to race across town to get to JJ before the sonogram, Will having stood her up.

She was so angry when JJ declined her offer to go with her in favor of Will, couldn’t describe the crushing hurt she felt. She tried to remind herself that she and JJ were nothing — not in a romantic way, at least, despite the stirring feelings she had been feeling for the other woman since she had moved in.

Another car cut her off and Emily slammed on the horn, yelling an obscenity out the window. She took a deep breath, remembered how sad and scared JJ sounded when she called, begging Emily to come to the sonogram only thirty minutes before her appointment.

Will had done exactly what Emily warned her he would do, told her he was coming and canceled a little under an hour before the appointment. The way he treated JJ and their unborn child never failed to fill Emily with a seething anger, heart racing and breath quickening at only the thought of him. She had to suppress a smile at the memory of the sickening crack when her fist connected with his face, easily one of the proudest moments of her adult life.

She swung her car into a space in front of the doctor’s office before jumping out and hastily shoving quarters into the parking meter. Emily took the stairs two at a time, burst into the waiting room and noticed that JJ wasn’t there, having already been taken back to an exam room. Her heart sped up at the thought of missing the appointment — of letting JJ down.

“Can I help you?” The receptionist directed a warm smile towards Emily, looked over her glasses at her and back to the computer screen. “First appointment?”

“I’m here for JJ — Jennifer Jareau.” Her words came out in a rush, heart still pounding and hands fidgeting.

The woman’s eyes lit up in understanding, nodding quickly as though she knew something before writing on a visitor’s badge for Emily. She handed it over, a knowing smile on her face as she watched Emily affix the sticker on her shirt.

“Your wife told me you’d be coming, said you’d probably be right on time. She’s through that door and in the first room on the left.”

“My — thank you.”

Emily couldn’t help the way her face heated up in a red hot blush at the way the receptionist said JJ was her wife. She knew it wasn’t anything they had done or said — most people don’t take their friend to the first sonogram after their ex-boyfriend cancels — but the implication still filled Emily’s stomach with a nervous flutter. She knocked on the exam room door, waited for a soft murmur from the technician before she opened the door slowly, stepping inside and shutting it behind her.

The sight of JJ reclined on the bed, towel thrown over her stomach made Emily’s stomach flip worse than it already was — her bright blue eyes wide and filled with nervous excitement. She barely registered the technician making a joke about showing up in the nick of time, smiled politely as she watched JJ mouth a silent thank you, her lips curling up into a wide grin.

“Are you guys ready to see your baby?”

Emily nodded hesitantly, stood dutifully at JJ’s side and let her fingertips graze her shoulder. She couldn’t look away from the blue of her eyes — the way her lips were still twitching up into a smile despite every tell that she was trying to fight it, trying to be as serious as possible. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the subtle swell of JJ’s stomach when the ultrasound technician removed the towel and squirted the gel onto her stomach, letting out a breathy laugh when JJ jumped at the temperature of the gel.

The small bump made her heart flutter, eyes transfixed on the slightly tanned skin, mind racing with all of the possibilities for the future — visions of an infant cooing in a crib while JJ looked down and sang. She felt a pang in her chest when she reminded herself that no, that may not be the life JJ wanted to give her child — and it was just that, hers, and not Emily’s. She was brought from her thoughts when JJ reached up, fingers wiggling until Emily grasped her hand and she visibly relaxed, only to tense up again when the technician pressed the wand to her gel covered stomach.

They both stared at the dark screen, eyes transfixed on the grey and black static until it finally focused — a little gummy bear of a baby jumping around on the screen. JJ let out a delighted gasp, lips curled into a grin as Emily wiped tears from her face. She hadn’t expected to be so affected by the image, but she already loved this little baby so much it hurt.

“There you go, mommies… there’s your baby.”

“Oh I’m not…” Emily started, hastily wiping at the tears that were rapidly falling down her face.

She wasn’t a mother, this wasn’t her baby — hell, JJ wasn’t even her girlfriend, merely a friend that lived with her and fell into her bed occasionally. A roommate, and she had already reasoned with herself that she would be beyond lucky to be able to co-parent and cohabitate with JJ and the baby at best — knew it may not be a likely scenario and didn’t want to get her hopes up, despite the excited flutter in her stomach she felt when she let herself sit and think about it for too long.

“Shut up. You’re mom too.”

“You guys make a great couple, I can already tell you’re going to be amazing parents.” The technician tapped at the keyboard before moving the wand around, pressing down on another spot. “I just have to grab a few more…”

“Take your time.”

JJ meant what she said — would have been content to sit there all afternoon and watch both the bouncing baby on the screen and the light in Emily’s eyes as she stared, completely transfixed by the image. It was a look JJ couldn’t quite decipher — love, she could tell, but a bit of something else that made her heart flutter and stomach flip. It was the same feeling she got when Emily’s fingers grazed hers in the car on the way to work, the giddy happiness in the pit of her stomach that no one else seemed to ignite.

“And I’ve got it. Thanks for being so patient with me, ladies.” The ultrasound technician pulled the wand from JJ’s stomach, wiping it clean before handing Emily a towel to clean the gel and a sheet of pictures. “I think that’s all for today… when you get cleaned up you can just check out and book your next appointment.”

They both murmured out a thanks as the technician stepped out of the room, Emily already wiping gently at JJ’s stomach and cleaning the gel off. It was like there was a trance between them — neither able to speak or look at each other, only the slight protrusion of JJ’s stomach as it really settled in that there was, in fact, a tiny baby growing inside of her.

“Emily…” JJ’s fingers grazed Emily’s wrist gently, looked up at her face and waited for their eyes to make contact before continuing. “Thank you. For everything… for coming, for doing this with me.”

“Jayje, you don’t even have to ask, you know I’ll always…”

“I meant it.”

“You — what…?”

There was a pause between them as Emily tried to decipher what JJ meant by her statement. Her eyebrows were knit together in a look of confusion, eyes half squinted in a way that made JJ let out a soft, airy laugh. After a moment, she reached up and let her thumb graze Emily’s cheek, smiling gently at her.

“Meant that you’re mom too, we’re doing this together… if you want to?”

It was a loaded question and they both knew it, and this wasn’t the place to have that sort of conversation. Emily knew she wanted to — wanted to raise this baby with JJ more than she had ever wanted anything, so badly that it scared her a little bit — but rationalized with herself that they should probably sit down over lunch and discuss it.

“We need to leave before they send another patient in.” She noticed the way JJ’s face fell, pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head before pulling her shirt down over her stomach and gently patting the bump. “Hey, this isn’t a no, it’s a we’re not having this conversation in this doctor’s office because I’ll cry. Come on, we both have the rest of the day off… I have plans for us.”

“Plans?”

JJ hopped off the table, letting her hand bump against Emily’s until she got the hint and laced their fingers together — fell into step beside her as they rounded the corner and walked to the checkout counter. They were understaffed for as many patients as they had, receptionists bustling around the circular desk as they tried to tend to everyone at once. Emily waved her wrist, signaled to them that they could take as long as they needed, before turning to JJ with a slight smile.

“I may have reserved a table at Olive Garden for us, and it’s right by this darling baby boutique I found on Facebook.”

She watched as JJ’s eyes lit up to that sparkling, shiny blue she adored so much, the way her smile reached her eyes and wrinkled her nose. It was endearing, the way her entire body seemed to thrum with every emotion, from the good to the bad, always feeling so deeply, so purely. Emily found herself hoping that the same energy — the same ability to feel so truly — would be passed on to the baby dancing about in her stomach.

“How do you always manage to make bad days better?”

“I just do, I guess.”

A receptionist hurried over to where they were standing, breaking them from their trance and snapping them back into the real world — a world where more existed than just the energy between the two of them. Emily couldn’t tear her gaze away from JJ’s subtle smile as she spoke to the woman, nodding enthusiastically, a few strands of shorter hair falling from her ponytail and shaking into her face.

JJ slipped the appointment card in her pocket as they walked out, entering the elevator hand in hand with giddy smiles on their faces. She almost hated the fact that they drove separately, wished she could sit beside Emily and bask in the happiness she was feeling, just be with her and present in the moment. There was never pressure with her — never any pressure to be more than she wanted to be, to carry on conversation when words seemed too hard — always content to just exist together.

Outside of the office, too many eyes on them, Emily found herself able to let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. She let herself look at JJ — truly look at her, the way her eyes were still shining and cheeks pinkened in what could only be described as a glow. The way her hair was falling in her face, having been shook free from the confines of her ponytail, was endearing — and Emily found herself gazing deep into JJ’s eyes as her fingers gently brushed the hair back out of her face.

The metallic grind of the elevator doors opening broke them from the moment, from their lips slowly gravitating towards each other as though pulled by magnetic force. They laughed, straightening up and walking out of the elevator, Emily’s hand on the small of JJ’s back as she guided her to her car just a few spaces away from her own.

“Follow me to the restaurant?”

“I’d follow you anywhere, Emily Prentiss.”

#my writing #jennifer jareau #jemily #emily prentiss #jj #you are in love

[lightneverfades]

Tehee! The Frostiron Holiday Wishes challenge ❆ is officially closed for submissions, and OPEN FOR CLAIMS! 🎅🎄 (Wishlist)

Sorry for the delay in posting the wishlist! And thank you so much to everyone who’s submitted prompts! :D ♥ ♥ ♥ 

For those not aware of the challenge, you can see what it it’s all about in the original post here! :)

*** This post was last updated: 12/8/2020 ***

Rules for Claiming a ‘Wish’

❆ Artists can claim as many ‘wishes’ (idea/prompt) as they want and fill them (as all prompts are not designated to a specific artist)!

After you’ve picked up a ‘Wish’ to Fill 

❆ Please be sure to contact me (lightneverfades) via message which one you chose! ❆ When you finish creating the artwork for the wish (ideally before Dec 24), please be sure to send me the art/fic/etc you’ve made! (If you need help sending it to me, let me know and I’ll help!)  ❆ I know you might be excited, but the surprise is what makes this fun, so please keep your artwork a secret until Dec 24 & 25!

❆ On Dec 24 & 25 (Christmas Eve and Christmas Day!) 🎅🎄, I will post a MASTER POST including links/photos/etc of all the artwork/completed fills received for the prompts below! :)

Types of Fills ✨

❆ Any type of fan works is allowed - That means fan fics, fan art (drawings, digital graphics), fan videos and fan mixes!

Note: *= Anything with this means I couldn’t directly tag the user’s name. (Please contact me and I will edit it so that it works!)

FAQ ✨

Q: Is there a word limit?  A: Nope, there is no word limit! ;) Although it will be ideal if the fic in general is a complete work! 

Without further ado, here are the wishes received for the challenge! ♥

Requester: @kimmycup​  Rating: G (General audience) Trigger warning: N/A Wish (Prompt/Idea): Invasion fic where Tony figures out Loki was mind controlled before Loki does: "But I WAS in control. Thanos didn't control me like I did Clint." "Yeah sure. And if you wanted to take over the world, what would you do?" Loki spluttered, fully aware that plan was dumb. Still, he would KNOW if he were controlled... Right? "But I wasn't mind controlled! It was me!"

Requester: @kimmycup​ Rating: G (General audience) Trigger warning: N/A Wish (Prompt/Idea): Loki in Tony's MIT sweatshirt.

Requester: @worstloki​  Rating: T (Teen and up audiences) Trigger warning: nothing nsfw please >:) Wish (Prompt/Idea): Tony and Loki both having panic attacks at the same time. just make it wild. whatever the reasons are, maybe it's the same reason? maybe they have shared triggers? maybe it's separate reasons? maybe the other avengers are around and don't realize the incoming attacks and keep bringing up bad memories? maybe one of them notices the other is freaking out and defends them? maybe drags them away only to also start having a panic attack? whatever. they're both freaking out and just kinda do that. they then bond over it. (this can be crack or angsty I don't mind)

Requester: Nivael * Rating: E (Explicit) Trigger warning: N/A Wish (Prompt/Idea): I’d always had that idea in my head, that Loki somehow took notice of Tony during the events of Thor 1, when he was on earth/watched Thor on earth.He fell in love with the mortal that was at the same time so different yet similar to him. So when he fell from the Rainbow bridge and into Thanos’ hands he planned to sabotage earths invasion from the very start to save Tony. Fast forward to at least after the end of Thor 2, (when Loki takes Odin’s place in the MCU) Loki escapes to earth after Thor thinks he’s been killed by the dark elves. He knows Thanos won’t rest until the infinity stones are his and the earth is still in danger. So he watches Tony to keep him save. With all the self hatred and lack of self esteem he harbors, he does not plan to actually act on his feelings, because he does not think he could be worthy of Tony. Plus, he invaded earth, caused lots of casualties, he’s an ugly Frost giant and the god of lies...so... yeah. He cannot think of one reason why Tony could be interested in him.But his feelings draw him to Stark and one day while following him, Loki gets careless and Tony discovers him. (Maybe Loki even discreetly intervenes a few times when Tony is in danger and Tony doesn’t notice until one day he does...?). So Stark confronts him and bit by bit (because Loki is not very cooperative and the least he wants is for Tony to discover his "ugly" emotional secret) he uncovers the truth about Thanos, the invasion and how Loki feels for him. I can imagine Loki to react ashamed, dismissive and maybe aggressive when Tony finally finds out. Tony, not being stupid, already suspected something to be fishy about the invasion. With how much Thor told him about Lokis wit and cleverness, he finds it hard to believe that Loki would make so many obvious mistakes. But now that he knows, all makes sense.Loki still watches over Tony, but keeps his distance. Until one day he saves Tonys life during a (random) attack and gets badly injured. With Lokis life on the line Stark realizes he has feelings for Loki and he takes him in to take care of his wounds. Healing takes some time so the two have plenty of time to get to know each other and deepen their feelings. Smut may follow :D (Oh... I am SO SORRY this became so much. God, it is too much, isn’t it? And sorry for my english o.o)

Requester: Nivael * Rating: E (Explicit) Trigger warning: N/A Wish (Prompt/Idea): Loki and Tony are in an established relationship. Things go great, but Loki is still unaccepting of his Jotun heritage and body. While Tony is completely fascinated by it, partly because Loki tries to hide it so hard. So he gets a fancy magical gadget from Strange (amulet, bracelet,...?) to be able to avoid frostbite so he can touch Loki even when he's in his Jotun form. Then there will be smut! :D

Requester: @brianadoesart​  Rating: T (Teen and up audiences) Trigger warning: N/A Wish (Prompt/Idea): MERMAIDS. I like mermaids. Either a fic or art, but I just want more content of mer-Loki or mer-Tony.   I always enjoy versions where Loki is an underwater prince who falls in love with a stupid human inventor by the name of Tony. He's never been 100% happy in the palace with Thor and the others, so he often would go to the shore to watch the humans. He sees Tony working on the beach one day and becomes interested in him from there on. Basically a little mermaid type thing... I am easy to please. I just like mermaids.

Requester: @brianadoesart​ Rating: G (General audience) Trigger warning: N/A Wish (Prompt/Idea): A.... Among Us au.......  Impostor Loki protecting his crewmate friend Tony from the other impostors.... I..... Tony and Loki as Among Us beans...

Requester: @arandomsewer​   Rating: M (Mature) Trigger warning: Mentions of trauma and past abuse and racism, maybe sex? Just some drama and comfort Wish (Prompt/Idea): I just want him to live on and being supported by his Friends and his brother recognizing him, that's basically the prompt. Tho here's the details of the Idea I had: Loki is living at the tower with the others (of course) too proud to say out loud how much he likes life on earth... The usual.Something happens and suddenly the magic that made him look Asgardian is just not working anymore. Understandably, he freaks out. Im talking hides in his room, crying, anger, hate, on himself and others... The whole lot, he just throws a major fit.The others know him and kind of understand and are patient... But it’s not getting fixed. Days pass, and he's stuck like this. After a while Tony snaps him out of It, and he slowly calms down and starts learning to accept this side of himself. It’s specially strange to him how he can just walk in a room and no one treats him different. How the others are even fascinated by this form. I expect Thor being shocked and curious and snapped at and reminded how he (and his people on general) have been unfair to Loki... And of course, there's the romance with Tony, Who loves him in all his forms (and they fit together 'cause he's kinky and Loki a shapeshifter)Also imagine Loki being terrified of touching Tony and then finding out he's cold to the touch but not actually dangerous (my headcanon: he's the son of Hella. Half giant and half Asgardian, and the actual heir... But that's for another fic)

Requester: @brianadoesart​​ Rating: G (General audience)   Trigger warning: N/A Wish (Prompt/Idea): Tony has been living alone for so long that Pepper and Rhodey decide to find him a roommate. They've tried living with him themselves, but they're both so busy it didn't really help Tony's loneliness. So they put out an ad for someone who specifically works from home. Choosing to keep it secret WHO they need a roommate for, they get some applicants, but not the crazy amount they normally would. Rhodey and Pepper go through all the applicants, even meet with them, and they choose a nice, smart author named Loki. He's the perfect candidate- he's even excited by the idea that his new roommate has no idea he's even GETTING a roommate. He finds it funny. They introduce Loki and Tony and sit back and watch everything unfold. Obviously it ends up with Tony and Loki falling for each other in the end, but seeing the shenanigans of them trying to cohabitate would be hilarious. Just watching them learn each other and begin to care about each other. I would like to see it.

Requester: @brianadoesart​​ Rating: T (Teen and up audiences) Trigger warning: N/A Wish (Prompt/Idea): Cupcake shop au!!!  One of our boys owns a cupcake shop and the other one is a FREQUENT visitor to said coffee shop. Lots of people think its because they have a sweet tooth, but they're just hopelessly in love with whichever one owns the shop.

Requester: @loufeysson​​ Rating: M (Mature) Trigger warning: N/A Wish (Prompt/Idea): Hi! my prompt is teenage Tony and android Loki in a futuristic universe (in the style of Black Mirror, maybe?) 🥺👉🏼👈🏼 Thank you!

Requester: @blancoluna​ Rating: M (Mature) Trigger warning: CRACK, haha Wish (Prompt/Idea): Basically Friga wonders where she went wrong, asks the Oracle and goes on a guilt trip realizing she messed up to Valhalla and back. The idea is, being a queen-godess of family, she should be able to do something about it, maybe traveling in time or something... And Loki's gonna need powerful allies and Friends, like the Avengers, for example Now the same, but with detail. This is the way I imagined It. Perhaps it’s too much drama? I just don't know how to tackle It or how to go from here:After everything that happened, Frigga wonders where she went wrong, not just with Loki, but with Thor who didn't appreciate his brother, Odín, who treated him unfairly and even the servants, Who didn't respect him.She wonders if she could have done anything, and the guilt wont let her sleep until she goes to the well of wisdom, the Oracle, to seek answers.She is warned the truth may be even more painful. She may not like the answer... But she goes in.It is way worse than she thought: in one second she is reminded of all the times she should have acted, and chose not to, and she sees how It affected her family.She could and should have done something, and she had plenty of time, but at every chance she chose not to. And its perhaps worse than what Odin did because she knew It was wrong but chose to do nothing about It.But even more: It is confirmed to her that not only Odín never gave Loki a chance: he didn't find him. He stole him from the temple where he was guarded. He is not just the son of Louffey, but also of Hella, and thus, the actual heir to the throne of Asgard.She was supposed to be the godess of family, and here she was, consumed by guilt and shame, by having followed blindly a King Who abused her children and betrayed his own heir, aside from many other crimes.But Frigga can't just spend the test of eternity crying. She must do something. She was raised by witches!!Will she manage to get her hands on the time Stone? Or Will she just travel to another dimension to warn a younger version of herself? Will this be the beginning of a new multiverse? The possibilities are endless, when the godess of family must avenge her child...But first: for him to have a better Life he would need support, allies... Friends. (Enter the Avengers) 

Add-on: Frigga having this vision was just meant to be a one shot that would connect many different alternative stories, all with the 'what if Frigga did something for Loki' as a common base. All of them would be Frostiron 'cause I honestly believe they are just meant for one another! It is just so open to so many possibilities... That I never got to writing any of them. 

One of the first ideas I had following this concept was of Frigga introducing Tony and Loki early on somehow: as kids they would be like 'imaginary friends' then Tony manages to contact him and they are webcam buds... As young adults, they would help each other go a different path than they did in other lives.... and when Loki needed help, he had allies to back him. (The Avengers, whom Tony may have introduced to him earlier)

Requester: @snarkyship​​ Rating: T (Teen and up audiences) Trigger warning: N/A Wish (Prompt/Idea): Human/no powers AU. Sort-of-enemies to friends to lovers.Tony rents this house/bungalow by the sea for the summer, with a kind of private beach where there is also a cute gazebo. Only that the gazebo is exactly halfway with the other property (by some mistake?). And the tenant of the neighbour bungalow is Loki, who's not so keen on sharing. So Loki&Tony will start a "war" to gain possession of the gazebo, doing their worst using the excuse of "this is my half, I can use it as I want". ((Optional: there is a table right in the middle, so at the beginning they sit at their own side glaring at each other, before starting deploying more convoluted tactics)).Mischief after mischief, they will start to know each other and of course everything will end with one of them inviting the other to their half for a romantic dinner and they'll end up sharing more than the gazebo <3((I hope it's enough clear and but also not too detailed??))

Requester: @snarkyship​​ Rating: T (Teen and up audiences) Trigger warning: N/A Wish (Prompt/Idea): Finally Tony has managed to locate Loki's whereabouts. And it turns out the godling lives in a pretty loft in Manhattan, with all the comforts and the most advanced midgardian technology ((lighting, temperature and everything controlled by a tablet - the Stark latest model!- , appliances linked to the wifi, and has that roomba a knife??)).Tony decides to have a little fun: who said Loki is the only one who can do a little mischief?? So he takes control over Loki's apartment hacking its system; he starts with some flickering lights, the roomba changing suddenly trajectory to stab him, then blasting music in the middle of the night and so on.And Loki would be so frustrated: at the beginning he thinks about some failure in the inferior midgardian technology, then he'll think to be under attack, but he can't feel any magic signature!! Maybe he'll freak out a little, because there is some kind of unknown entity??? ((And while he may be using all the technology without problems, it doesn't mean he fully understands its working)).Tony will have fun, but he also will discover some cute aspects of Loki's personality, like he sings to his plants and he likes to wear fuzzy socks ((ok it sounds voyeuristic, but Tony would respect part Loki's privacy, maybe he'll spy on him only when in the living room or kitchen)).((And maybe he would help Loki as well? Like, the godling had a nightmare after falling asleep on the couch, and Tony would gently woke him up with music))Loki will eventually understand that Stark, the most clever midgardian, was behind all of this, and well, he's the God of Mischief, he can appreciate a well planned trick. Time to return the favor ;)

Requester: @martiszcz​ Rating: M (Mature) Trigger warning: N/A Wish (Prompt/Idea): Someone is trying to break them up by making Loki jealous, mentioning Tony's playboy years, talking about the time they slept with Tony, talking about how much time he spends with some friend (Pepper, Rhodey, I don't care who) but Loki doesn't react - they trust each other.

Requester: @shinindragon​  Rating: T (Teen and up audiences) Trigger warning: N/A Wish (Prompt/Idea): The Avengers + Loki fight a villain. Loki uses a lot of his magic, eventually almost draining his energy completely when he protects Tony from getting hurt. When the battle is over, they return to the tower, all of them exhausted. Tony notices Loki doesn't look well, he asks if he's okay. Loki barely gets a word out before he collapses into Tony's arms, unconscious. Thor carries Loki to Tony's and his bedroom, explaining to Tony that he'll be alright, it's just exhaustion from an excessive use of magic. Tony stays with Loki, taking care of him. Fluff and with a sprinkle of angst. 

Requester: @lightneverfades​ (Lol yup, shamelessly requesting as well haha!) Rating: T (Teen and up audiences) or M (Mature) Trigger warning: N/A Wish (Prompt/Idea): Detroit: Become Human AU - Young Tony Stark is neglected by his father, who is the CEO of CyberLife corporation. He craves for his attention and approval but doesn’t get it, causing him to become so bitter one day that he sneaks into one of the labs to sabotage whatever work he is doing. Tony comes across an abandoned RK800 model (also known as ‘Loki’), about to be taken apart for parts. He salvages the model before it gets destroyed, feeling sorry for this inanimate object that’s being thrown away so carelessly. He rebuilds Loki again in secret, and Loki becomes his friend through lonely times (Tony is there to help Loki understand humans, life, language, etc and Loki just keeps Tony company). Tragedy strikes the Stark family though, when his parents die in a car accident. Loki is there to help him and as Tony starts to grow up and become a man (he continues to fix Loki when he breaks down or updates him), Loki’s system starts to show signs similar to that of human emotions, although Tony is completely unaware of this. At a certain point though, Tony - in one of his bad moods - decides that he doesn’t need Loki anymore and shuts him down and puts him away in storage, resolving to move on with life without these ‘distractions’ to keep him company (image a scene where Tony is angry and throws that frustration and loneliness onto Loki, who tries to calm him down and sooth away his anxiety (’I understand you’) but Tony’s all (‘But you’re just a machine!’) and although Tony isn’t aware, Loki feels a spark of hurt, though even he can’t explain what this emotion means.)  Years pass and eventually Tony forgets about Loki. He earns a name for himself, having taken over his father’s company (which still creates androids and in addition, creates weaponry of mass destruction as well). Obadiah is watching over Tony’s company (he is the one who ‘suggested’ he focus on building a name for himself and to shut out any ‘distractions’ that get in the way: namely Loki. Over the years, he saw how Tony interacted with the android and he had the uneasy sense that the android had matured into something more than its primary use. He considers Loki a threat). The events of Iron Man happen, with Tony being captured by the Ten Rings and then escaping. During his days confined at home to recover, he stumbles upon Loki and decides to reboot him again (partly out of guilt and partly because he’s lonely again). He finds comfort with Loki once more.  Tony decides to crash the charity party by making an appearance with Loki as his ‘bodyguard’. Obadiah sees this and is not happy about this strange attachment Tony has over this android.  Loki helps Tony build his first prototypes of the Iron Man suit, and they get to reacquaint themselves. One day, Loki sees on the news that there are a number of deviant android cases and is confused by what he sees, but it soon dawns on him that he might be feeling emotions for Tony, finally understanding the true meaning, especially when Tony is injured (while Loki is out on an errand) and Obadiah ambushes Tony by stealing the mini arc reactor in his chest.  Shortly afterwards, to spite Tony, Obadiah hacks into Loki’s system and tries to eradicate the ‘deviancy’ he sensed in Loki years ago and turn the android against Tony (he tries to make Loki kill him). It doesn’t work - on the contrary, it finally frees Loki. Together, Tony and Loki go against Obadiah, who is intent on destroying them and taking over CyberLife corp.

Requester: @lightneverfades​ (Lol yup, shamelessly requesting as well haha!) Rating: T (Teen and up audiences)  Trigger warning: Sickly, happy song cliches! xD Hah! Wish (Prompt/Idea): In which Tony or Loki (you can choose) is cursed by Amora to relive a week in which their lives suddenly become a musical and everyone around them spontaneously bursts into dance and song. (I have this image of Loki bursting into song about something ridiculous and Tony’s like, “What the HELL, what’s going on!”). This could either be enemies-to-lovers or it could start from them already being in a relationship. Bonus points if the Avengers team all burst into song together and there’s actually lyrics!! (Then I can actually make up a tune/sing it during the last month of 2020 so this year ends with rainbows and fluff and HAPPY FROSTIRON THOUGHTS! XD)

Requester: @lightneverfades​ (Lol yup, shamelessly requesting as well haha!) Rating: T (Teen and up audiences) or M (Mature) Trigger warning: FLUFF OVERLOAD! <3 Mpreg (might not be everyone’s cup of tea) Wish (Prompt/Idea): Loki has a kid with Tony (eeehehe, go all in with the loving and caring Tony fussing over his pregnant enemy-turned-boyfriend-turned-husband), calls her Morgan. Tony is obsessed with buying baby clothes for their daughter to the point where he has a closet dedicated to socks (lol he can’t get enough of small baby clothes and the potential to make his daughter look like a rainbow?!). Lol, I don’t even know! Just domestic bliss I guess! <3 Bonus points if Tony buys Christmas sweaters for his fam, including the Avengers, who dote on baby Morgan like their own (Thor with his anime eyes). Or even better, if baby Morgan grows up and plays little tricks on Uncle Thor and Loki and Tony chuckle in the background as Thor lets his niece do whatever she wants, cause he loves him too much to care, lol~

Requester: @lightneverfades​ (Lol yup, shamelessly requesting as well haha!) Rating: M (Mature) Trigger warning: CRACK, haha Wish (Prompt/Idea): Loki is a yoga instructor and one day Tony goes to one of his classes and finds out the best positions to ‘relax’ - body, mind and soul >:D. (I love puns, so go crazy hahaha!) 

#frostiron #frostiron holiday wishes challenge #christmas #yayyyy #challenge #tony/loki #ironfrost #loki/tony #au #fanfic #prompts #fills #requests #so many cool ideas #i am shameless in that i have submitted four prompts to my own challenge lol but i am selfish hahaha

[wickedlyqueer]

Holy Poly

Ever since @gliyerabaa became obsessed with the Glinda/Fiyero/Elphaba ship it suddenly reminded me I wrote a poly fic years ago where essentially the Charmed Circle lived together and most of them were dating each other.

I never finished or published it, because I’m first and foremost a gelphie ho. to a point it felt wrong to be calling it a poly fic, bc I just wanted to focus on the gelphie dynamic.

Anyway, because I promised Rae (and I’m sure they’d love to see some gliyeraba content they didn’t write themself) this was the intro chapter of the modern AU, fresh out of college, poly chapter I wrote like 3 years ago.

Save the trees!

Perhaps every accidental cluster of people had a short period of grace. Although gracious was probably not the best word to describe the weirdly formed, yet close-knit circle. Exuberant. Loud. Queer. Those were better words. A loving found family that could not been torn apart even if fate wanted it to.

Neither was their time together short-lived. At least, not if it was up to Glinda. After most of them had graduated last summer, the crushing college debt and the terrifying world that was job hunting in a broken economic system made the decision on cohabitation all the easier.

On the outskirts of Shiz they had found their home: a small house with just enough room for the six of them to not suffocate. It was nothing fancy, but none of them would want it any other way. 

“Elphie’s not here?”

Glinda had entered the living room where the boys were spread lazily across their two mismatched couches bought at a garage sale.

“Nope, left quite a while ago,” Boq replied.

“Aren’t they at their usual train station spot harassing people?” 

“Language, Crope,” from the kitchen came Fiyero’s rich voice. “Spreading awareness about global warming isn’t the same as harassing.”

“Fine. It’s annoying people then.”

“Not everyone finds that awareness crap annoying,” Tibbett said, throwing a casual glance at Glinda. “I believe someone went weak at the knees for that.”

She felt a blush creeping up; not for the comment he made, but for the comment that was about to come. It had turned into an inside joke in their circle, and she had learned from experience that the less she objected the more humiliation she was spared.

“Is it?” Crope wiggled his eyebrows. “The way I heard, she complimented Elphie on their dedication to the cause for painting their entire visage green.”

The trio threw a fist in the air and shouted in unison, “Save the trees!” without their attention leaving the screen. 

“I hate every single one of you.” 

“You can’t deny that’s how it went, Glin,” Fiyero commented. “Have you tried texting by the way?”

“I think their phone died,” she checked one more time for any messages, but still no response from Elphaba. “Remind me to ambush them again for getting a decent phone.”

“At least they lost that brick phone.”

Crope snorted. “Yeah, right. Lost.”

Tibbett gave him a wicked smile. “No fun in being a tattletale, babe.”

Whatever they were grinning about it was Crope and Tibbett, and Glinda prefered to stay ignorant on the subject. She headed towards the kitchen where Fiyero was cooking dinner. A towel hanging over his shoulder and his beautiful long black hair stuffed in a loose bun so no strains could spoil the food.

“Smells good, Yero.” She wrapped her arms around his belly, and stretched out completely on her tiptoes and almost managed to put her chin on his shoulder. “If only I could see if it looks as equally good.”

Fiyero laughed heartily and sank through his knees so Glinda could see better. “How about now?”

She smiled. “So far this meal is Glinda-approved.”

“That’s all I need.”

A cheer came from Boq from the living room having beaten the other two at the game. 

“I think I’m going to check the train station,” Glinda said as she let go off Fiyero; the pose was growing uncomfortable for the both of them. Their height difference was ridiculous. How she had ended up with two partners so much taller than her was beyond her.

“Oh, you know what you should do? Call Nessa. Maybe she can contact Elphie through their sibling telepathy.”

“I think that only works when they have something to bicker about,” Glinda said, but dialed the number anyway. “Goes straight to voicemail.”

“Why do those two even have phones?” Fiyero muttered. 

“Okay, so train station and then I’ll drop by Nessa’s dorm to check on her too. Any other places Elphie might be?”

Four voices spoke as one. “The library.”

“Should’ve figured that one out myself.”

“Glin, you do know Elphie’s like a cat, right? They always find their way back home eventually.”

“I know, but I feel like going outside for a bit. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Sure thing. Oh, and Glinda?”

She turned around. “Hm?”

He took her hand and planted a chaste kiss on her fingertips. “Can I just say you look absolutely wonderful today?”

She beamed. “You’re too charming for your own good Fiyero.” 

“It’s why he has so many partners,” Crope called from the couch, apparently eavesdropping on the conversation. There was zero privacy in this house. “Too handsome too. Who could say no to that gorgeous face?”

“Not us,” added Tibbett. “And don’t forget that he’s a flirt without realizing it. It just comes natural to him and it’s adorable.”

Fiyero had the advantage that his dark skin hid most of his blush, but knowing him since high school, Glinda knew what a flustered Fiyero looked like. 

“I just got a lot of love to share, I guess,” he smiled shyly. “Let me know when you find Elphaba, okay? Dinner will be ready around seven.” 

--

Elphaba wasn’t at the library and neither were they at the train station. All Glinda found there were old memories. She could see the young, nervous girl fresh from the Pertha Hills standing on the platform. Fiyero’s steady hand on her shoulder to ease her worries. Had four years really passed so quickly?

She traced her footsteps from the past. Her gaze wandering over the square in front of the train station like it did then. The only thing that was missing, was a green person storming towards her. From that moment on she was captivated by Elphaba, although the first few months she had let her socialite behavior overrule.

“You could’ve disclosed in our online correspondence that you’re green!” 

She had whined once she had found out the Green-Tree-From-Shiz-Station was her roommate. Elphaba had pointed at the five enormous trunks brought into their room by an upperclassman.

“Only if you had disclosed you would bring your entire house with you.”

Glinda had thought the roommate matching system had completely failed her. No way had she the highest match with a snarky, social-reclusive green person! It had taken her some time to realize they were ridiculously similar, just coming from different angles.

Her path down memory lane continued when she entered Shiz campus. It only had been two months ago since she graduated, but it already felt foreign being here. As if she no longer fitted. A group of giggling first year students passed her. Glinda recognized her own innocence in them back at that age. Feeling as if you’re on top of the world only because you have yet to learn what that world entailed.

Unconsciously she had walked to Crage Hall. She admired the building when a busted up blue van pulled over. It was Elphaba’s. They all jokingly referred to it as the Abduction Truck, because that’s how sketchy it looked. 

Elphaba got out and moved over to the back of the truck. The only reason Elphaba had bought that van was to drive Nessa around. Normally they were a very dedicated public transport advocate, and although Elphaba would deny it, Glinda knew they’d bend their own morals to please Nessa.

Glinda walked towards the car and Elphaba looked surprised. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Looking for you actually.”

“Oh?” 

Elphaba opened the backdoors to reveal a Nessa waiting impatiently to be led out. “You do take your time don’t you, Elphaba? The air conditioner was already turned off and in this heated garbage tin can of yours I could’ve already suffocated. Hello Glinda.”

“Hey Nessa.”

Elphaba lifted the ramp from the truck. “And yet you still live. The Unnamed God must have favorites after all.”

Nessa rolled her eyes. “Just open a window next time, please?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Elphaba vastened the ramp and Nessa rode her wheelchair to the pavement.

Elphaba shoved the ramp back inside and closed the door. Glinda walked towards them and was met with a strong smell. She sniffed Elphaba’s shirt and got worried. “Why do you smell like chlorine? Were you near water?”

Elphaba gestured to Nessa. “Had to drive this kid to Red Sand.”

“Your half year check-up! I completely forgot.” One of the reasons why Elphaba had bought the van was so Nessa could study at Shiz. Every six months they had to drive all the way to Red Sand where Nessa had to do exercises in a swimming pool. That’s what Glinda understood of it at least. “How was it?”

“Still pretty paralyzed,” Nessa supplied dryly.

“Doctor Kazhki said your legs were looking healthy.”

“As healthy as they can be paralyzed, yes.”

Glinda tugged at Elphaba’s hand before the argument could escalate. “Hey, you vanished without a single message.”

Elphaba frowned. “No I didn’t, I sent you a text and—ah,” they had gotten their phone out. “Must’ve died before it was sent.”

“No way!” Glinda feigned surprise. “Tomorrow we’re gonna get you a new phone and I won’t hear any of your usual excuses.”

“Can you do your flirting somewhere that isn’t in front of me?” Nessarose disrupted them. “I’m going inside.”

She wheeled away.

“Thanks for the ride, Fabala. Oh no problem, Nessie.” 

Nessa turned around and stuck out her tongue. “If you can converse with yourself, what do you need me for?” 

“Ungrateful brat.”

It was their way of saying goodbye. Being an only child Glinda still had no idea how sibling relationships worked. Especially those of the Thropps.

“Go kiss your girlfriend.” Nessarose waved without looking behind and went into the building. 

Elphaba turned around and smirked. They wrapped their arms around Glinda’s waist. “Well you heard her.”

Glinda raised her eyebrows teasingly. “Since when do you take orders from your sister, hm?”

“Wow. You ruined the moment.” But they smiled and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry I didn’t notify you.”

“All is forgiven. You’re here now.”

It was a beautiful afternoon and without another word between them they had agreed to walk around campus. Glinda curled into Elphaba’s arm. She had done it so many times before it was like second nature. She had loved strolling around campus with Elphaba, back when they were still at Shiz. Near the Suicide Canal they settled down in the grass and soaked up the nice autumn sun while it was still warm.

Glinda leaned into Elphaba and smiled. “This brings back memories.” 

“Curled up in my arms after one of our many picnics at the Suicide Canal? Whatever gave you that idea?” Elphaba teased.

Glinda nudged them playfully. “Sentimentality, I suppose. My entire walk I’ve been seeing myself through a looking glass.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, like at the train station I remembered–” Glinda stopped dead in her tracks. How could she have let that one slip!

Elphaba let out a roaring laugh. “Are you referring to our ‘meet-cute’?”

Her entire face had turned bright red. “It wasn’t cute, I’m still embarrassed by it.” 

“Aw, don’t be. It was actually refreshing from all the usual green freak insults.”

“How? I thought you were going for a metaphor to reflect a greener planet! I didn’t even consider a green person existing. How is that less offensive?”

“True, but then you became so flustered when I looked at you funny. I’ll never forget how you threw a fist in the air and yelled ‘save the trees!’ to show your support.”

Glinda buried her face into her hands. “Oh god.”

Elphaba laughed. “It was cute” and put their face closer. “You’re cute.”

“You’re making it worse,” Glinda’s words sounded muffled through her hands.

They planted a comforting kiss in her hair. “We still ended up like this, so it couldn’t have been all that bad, right?”

“I suppose,” her embarrassment fading, Glinda let herself fall back on Elphaba’s shoulder. “I thought I’d never see you again after that. Big surprise waited ahead of me. God, I thought you were a senior or something. No other freshman I know functioned that entire first week, and there you were, already trying to make the world a better place.” 

She felt Elphaba smile. “I was such a determined little fuck back then. I didn’t even sign up. I got off the train and saw the group of volunteers and basically pestered them until they gave me a jacket and some flyers to hand out.”

“And they haven’t gotten rid of you since.”

“Nope. I’m the best thing that happened to them.”

Glinda paused, weighing her words before saying, “And to me.”

“Damn, you are sentimental today,” Elphaba noted. 

Glinda took Elphaba’s chin and slowly lowered it until their eyes were leveled. Just before their lips touched she whispered, “You’re ruining the moment.”

“Now we’re even,” Elphaba murmured, smiling into the kiss.

--

A/N: to be clear of all the dynamics (bc they are very entangled and a bit of a mess): - Glinda is asexual and through high school became very dependable on Fiyero (as he was the first person she ever came out too). Dependable to a point they couldn’t imagine their lives separately. So it falls more in a QPR relationship, where their platonic bond is unbreakable. - Elphaba is non-binary, bi and aromantic. Their relationship with Glinda is definitely the most couple-y, and can be classified as a “typical” romantic relationship. They also connected with Fiyero instantly and fell for his charms. - Fiyero is very poly because this boy’s got a lot of love to share! He’s also aro (which might seem contradictory, but it’s something I’ve seen a lot of overlap with, funnily enough!) and so his relationship are very platonic/sexual based. he has that sort of relationship with Elphaba, Crope&Tibbett and one or two other people outside the charmed circle. - Tibbet’s genderfluid and good with any pronouns and will raid Glinda’s closet on any occasion. In an open relationship with Crope and they obviously communicate incredibly well with this. - Crope’s just very gay.  - Boq is a trans guy and aro/ace. He’s the only not in a typical “relationship” and definitely isn’t looking for that either, but he can’t live without his chosen family. Together with Fiyero, they’re basically the “dads” of the group and keeps everyone in check. 

If anyone wants to run with these dynamics; you have my blessing! I won’t be continuing this story but if it inspired you feel free to build on it!

#wicked #wicked the musical #gliyeraba #gelphie #bc it's.. kinda mostly gelphie still bc it me and i love them ok #anyway rae #hope you like it dfjkdhf #this is basically just for you

[deanstop13billyjoeltraxx]

Superposition

a college roommate deancas AU :)

Chapter 9 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here. 

CW: alcoholism, smoking

note: this chapter is again wayyy too long for me to go through and italicize everything the way it should be, soooo AO3 is the place to go if you want the best experience:))

Doing the Right Thing

Present

It was still pitch-dark outside when Dean woke up. He checked the time. 5:22 a.m. He groaned. A product, he guessed, of getting nearly fourteen hours of sleep the day before. He almost tried to go back to bed, but it was useless. He was awake. Gingerly, he applied some pressure to his stitches. Pain bloomed beneath his fingers, but it remained localized. That was encouraging. Dean sat up slowly. He felt the blood rush from his head, and the room spun a little more than usual, but the spikes of pain of the days before were gone. Maybe he’d be fully healed by Monday, and he’d be able to get Cas back on the road sooner than he’d thought.

Dean pulled on a sweatshirt and sweatpants and made his way to the kitchen, doing his best to not disturb Sam, who was still passed out in the living room. He grabbed his keys off the counter and stuffed his feet into an old pair of sneakers before quietly exiting the apartment.

He could have brewed a pot of coffee, but he needed some fresh air. The argument with Sam was still echoing in his mind. Dean pulled his hood up against the bitter Kansas wind and made in the direction of the closest 7-Eleven.

The roads were Saturday-morning quiet. Dean relished the silence and the sting of the cold air on his face. He usually tried to wait until after breakfast, but he took out his lighter and lit a cigarette, anyway. The burn in his throat was a welcome familiarity. Dean sighed against the nicotine buzz. It had been a few days.

He remembered the look on Cas’s face the day before, when he’d mentioned a cigarette. He’d gone cold turkey sometime around the Christmas before his dad died. Cas acted like it was the most impressive thing anyone had ever done. But, then… Well. Then he’d gone from near-alcoholic to stone-cold sober. He wasn’t proud of it, but he needed something to take the edge off those first few months. The habit was harder to kick the second time around.

Dean reached the 7-Eleven and discarded the cigarette in the ashtray on top of the trashcan. He made a beeline for the coffee machine. Dean grabbed the largest cup he saw, filled it to the brim with steaming coffee. He had just taken the glorious first sip when —

“Dean!”

Dean turned around at the sound of a woman’s voice. He grinned wide when he saw the owner was Sheriff Jody Mills.

“Hey, Jody,” he said, setting the cup down. She pulled him into a tight hug. In the past three years, Jody had become family.

“How ya doin’, kiddo?” She asked when they parted. Dean shrugged. “Bobby told me about your head.”

“Old man can’t keep his mouth shut,” Dean grumbled, garnering a laugh from Jody. “I’m fine. It wasn’t a big deal.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Stitches say otherwise.”

He waved a hand at her. “Nah. How are you, Jody?”

Jody sighed. “Same old. Bunch of the force is off for Christmas already. I pulled the short straw, had to work the graveyard shift last night. ”

“Anything interesting happen?”

Jody gave him a look. “No, nothing ‘interesting.’ Although we did have a mugging.”

Dean took another sip of coffee. “Where?”

“Down at that bar on 14th, sometime around midnight. A couple of college kids jumped this poor guy on his way to an Uber. He got a little banged up, and they took his wallet, gave him a good scare.” Jody sighed. “I felt bad for him. Said he was from outta town, just passing through on his way to Kansas City.” She snorted. “Makes Lawrence look real nice, huh? You’re here for a couple of days, and you get mugged.”

Dean froze. “Kansas City? Did you happen to get his name?”

“We did, but… God, I can’t remember it.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”

“No reason. Did he, uh, did he mention where he was staying?”

“Uh… I think he said the Days Inn.”

“The one right by KU?” Dean asked.

Jody shrugged. “Probably. I didn’t ask for specifics. Dean, what’s going on?”

Dean grabbed a lid and put it on his cup. “It’s nothing, Jody, I promise. I��ll see you around.”

As he made his way to the cashier, Jody let out an exasperated sigh. “Good to see you too!” She called after him.

He paid for his coffee and all but ran back to his apartment. Upon reaching the parking lot, he hurriedly unlocked the Impala and slid into the driver’s seat. Dean’s movements slowed before he could turn the key in the ignition.

What was he doing, exactly? What was his plan here? He had Cas’s phone number. He could easily call him, ask if he was okay, if that was him who got mugged. Would Cas even tell him the truth if it really was him Jody was talking about? The man didn’t owe Dean a damn thing, he’d made that perfectly clear.

And yet… Dean had to know. Despite everything, all of his anger and grudge-holding, he wouldn’t be able to think about anything else until he knew. With a pang, Dean remembered waking up in the hospital, Cas sitting next to him. He quite literally hasn’t left your side. The least Dean could do now was check up on him.

“Days Inn,” he muttered to himself as he started the car, trying to remember how to get to KU from the apartment. He almost stopped and turned around more than once. Seeing Cas on a normal day was bad enough, but seeing him bruised and bloodied… Dean tried not to think about it. Just making sure he’s okay, he told himself. He’d do the same for me.

Finally, he reached the motel. It was still relatively dark out. He parked the Impala at the back of the building, triple-checking that he had locked it, before making his way to the front desk.

“Mornin’,” he greeted the woman behind the counter. “I was wonderin’...” He paused mid-sentence as something caught his eye from the breakfast seating area. A man, nursing a cup of coffee and reading a newspaper, his dark hair sticking up in twelve different directions.

“Nevermind,” Dean said. He made his way to the table.

“You look like shit,” Dean said by way of a greeting. Cas jumped, nearly toppling his cup. He took a deep breath as Dean sat across from him, folding his arms across his chest.

He really did look awful. Under the guise of concern, he let himself look at Cas, really look at him.  Dean took stock of the black eye and complementary swollen cheek, but his eyes lingered on the full lips and stubbled jaw. Still the same. Maddeningly beautiful.

“Dean,” Cas grumbled, and he sounded like shit, too. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the area,” he said, aiming for blasé. Cas sipped his coffee. Dean leaned back in his chair and asked, “So, were you gonna tell me you got mugged?”

Cas cleared his throat. “What?”

“Saw the sheriff this morning. She told me some poor travelin’ dude got mugged outside of a bar.” Dean raised his eyebrows. “Sound familiar?”

Cas sighed and folded his hands together. “Yes,” he said. “It was rather unfortunate.”

Dean studied him for a moment, flipping between anger and concern. Cas had texted him after the incident, hadn’t bothered to mention it. “You okay?” He said finally, deciding it was too early to get mad.

“Yes,” Cas said again. “I suppose they were just sober enough to land a punch.” He gestured at his eye. “I believe they just wanted cash, and I’m sure the ID of a twenty-two year old was desirable as well.” He sighed once more. “I’m just glad they didn’t take my phone.”

“What were you doin’ down there, anyway?” Dean asked.

Cas gave him a look. “I think, based on my current state, that you can infer the nature of my outing.”

And, yeah, he looked horribly hungover, in addition to everything else. Dean rolled his eyes. “Sure. I mean, why were you getting sloshed at, like, the worst college bar in town?”

Cas laughed, but it was mirthless. “It is not of import.”

“Wh —” Dean interrupted himself with a frustrated sigh. “Okay.” He was tapping the table with two fingers. This was a bad idea. He shouldn’t have come. “Why are you staying here, anyway?” He asked, just to have something to say. “This place sucks.”

“Because you told me that I would be in Lawrence for upwards of two weeks,” Cas explained. “The rooms are inexpensive.”

Dean just stared at him. Of course Cas would find the cheapest shithole in town. A wave of guilt rushed over him. What was wrong with him? He and Bobby were the ones who wouldn’t be able to fix Cas’s car until after Christmas. Cas was stuck here because of them, because of him, and Dean couldn’t just give up his couch for a week? If he had just done that in the first place, Cas probably wouldn’t have a black eye.

Logically, Dean knew this train of thought made next to no sense. The rational side of him knew he was placing undue blame on himself for situations beyond his control.

That knowledge didn’t make the pain in his chest subside.

Dean couldn’t just leave Cas in that hotel lobby, hungover and nursing a black eye, no driver’s license, no money. He considered his options for a moment. He could send him to Bobby’s. But, no, that would invite raised eyebrows and lots of questions. Bobby was out. He could pay for Cas to stay at a better hotel, one closer to the shop. A quick estimation told him that was a thousand-dollar choice. Not happening. Dean groaned internally. He was the world’s biggest idiot.

“Come on, you’re checking out,” he said gruffly, standing up.

“What?” Cas stayed resolutely in his seat. “Dean, I’m not going to waste money on accommodations, this is fine.”

“Oh yeah, it’s great, I can tell,” Dean said, the words dripping with sarcasm. “You’re staying at my place.”

Cas looked at Dean like he’d just grown a third head. “You’ve been consistently upset at me since the moment you saw me. I don’t think cohabiting is wise.”

Dean cringed. “Choice of words, Cas,” he mumbled. He yanked Cas up by the arm. “Look, man, I owe you one, anyway. Just…” He didn’t finish his sentence. Cas shifted out of Dean’s grasp.

“You owe me for… What, exactly?” Cas said, eyes searching Dean’s face. Dean tugged at the collar of his sweatshirt.

“You drove me to the hospital,” he muttered.

“Bobby said he’d fix my car for free if I did.”

Of course he did. “Yeah, well, you stayed until I woke up.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “Because I felt responsible for your concussion.”

Dean tilted his head back, begging the ceiling for strength. “Look, man, I’m just trying to be nice.”

“What a pleasant change in demeanor,” Cas deadpanned.

“You’re being a fucking idiot,” Dean said, exasperated.

“Charming,” Cas said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re selling your invitation beautifully.”

Dean glared at him. “Are you coming, or not?”

“All right,” Cas relented, but sounded reluctant.

Dean let out a sigh of relief. Cas retrieved his bags and checked out at the front desk as Dean waited impatiently at the Impala. The sun had just begun to rise when the two pulled out of the parking lot.

“I’d make Sam take the couch,” Dean said as he drove, “But he’s a giant. Sorry. It’s probably still better than that crappy motel.”

Cas kept his gaze out the passenger window. “Your brother is here?”

It occurred to Dean that the last time Sam and Cas had talked, it was under very different circumstances. He’d almost forgotten Cas’s Christmas in Lawrence. Dean berated himself silently once more. Hadn’t he just gotten into an argument with Sam about the man sitting in his passenger seat? What was he supposed to tell him? Hey, remember when I told you to never speak of my old roommate again? He’s staying with us.

If Dean was honest, he couldn’t even justify the situation to himself. He’d spent months broken over Cas, then years pissed at him. Maybe he was some kind of masochist.

Dean sucked in a deep breath. “Yeah. He’s home from school for the holidays.”

Cas murmured in understanding. “He’s attending college?”

“University of Texas,” Dean said, and he couldn’t keep the pride from his voice.

“I look forward to seeing him again,” Cas said. “It’s been a long time.”

Maybe it was the implication behind the words, or the way Cas said them. Dean felt a pang in his chest for the friendship they’d once had. In the early morning light, with Cas in his passenger seat, he could almost believe they’d never lost it. He could almost convince himself that Cas had just moved away. That they saw each other sometimes, grabbed a cup of coffee, reminisced about the old days. No bad blood, just fond memories. The kind of friendship that sits in the back of the sock drawer, a pleasant surprise when it’s found.

Almost.

Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel. That wasn’t reality, he reminded himself. They had lost that friendship, and there was plenty of bad blood. Dean had made his choices. Cas had made his. Pretending otherwise didn’t do him any good.  

The rest of the drive was quiet. Dean turned on the stereo, and “Whole Lotta Love” played softly through the speakers. The drive that had earlier felt like an eternity now seemed all too fast. Dean was not looking forward to explaining to Sam why Castiel Novak was their new roommate for the foreseeable future.

Dean pulled into the parking lot. He rubbed his face with one hand, tried to remind himself that this was the nice thing to do, that this was what he would do for anyone else, and so he should do it for Cas. Even if Cas made him feel like he’d put his life back together with dollar store glitter glue, and it was about to fall apart at one misplaced breath.

Seeming to sense Dean’s discomfort, Cas said, “Dean, you don’t have to do this.” His voice was measured, but it had a near-pleading tone. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Dude, no, you’re not,” Dean replied, and he felt like screaming. Couldn’t he do one nice thing, just one?

Cas rolled his eyes, a full-body movement. “Like I said, I know you’re angry at me. I also know you don’t wish to talk about it,” he added, seeing Dean open his mouth to say just that. “And I don’t wish to cause you strife every time you decide to use your kitchen or watch television.” Cas sighed, a heavy thing. “I appreciate the gesture.”

Dean closed his eyes. Counted to five. Breathed out. “Cas,” he said. He was doing his best to keep his tone neutral, but Cas was being stubborn, and he didn’t have the energy for that. “Just… Let me do this. Let’s just go inside. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll kick your ass back to the friggin’ Days Inn.”

Cas eyed him for a moment, as if attempting to discover the meaning behind his sudden kindness. Dean told himself he was doing what he would do for anyone. The gesture was devoid of feeling. He was going through the motions of being a good person.

Finally, Cas relented. He opened the door and moved to the trunk to retrieve his luggage. Dean rolled his shoulders and followed suit.  

“You mind hanging out here for a sec?” Dean asked. “I gotta talk to Sam.”            

Cas just nodded, shifting awkwardly on his feet. Dean locked his car and made the ascent to his door.

Dean got to work on a pot of coffee. He almost hoped that Sam wouldn’t wake from the noise, that he could put off the coming conversation as long as possible. But, of course, Sam woke up almost the moment the machine finished brewing.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Dean said as Sam sat up. “Coffee?”

Sam nodded groggily. “Morning.”

Dean brought him a cup and sat on the couch across from the air mattress. “How’d you sleep?” He asked, stalling.

Sam gave him a curious look. “Uh… Fine, actually. This thing isn’t as uncomfortable as I thought.”

“Good,” Dean said. He was bouncing his leg, trying to figure out what to say. “Um.” Great start.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “What?” He said.

“Nothing,” Dean said. Then, “I just wanted to, uh. Well. Look, sorry for being a dick last night.”

Sam’s eyes widened at him over his mug. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“What?” Dean replied. “I’m fine, dude, why?”

“Well, it’s just…” Sam trailed off and took another sip. “We don’t really do the whole ‘apologizing after arguments’ thing.” He gave Dean a look. “No chick flick moments and all that.”

“Right,” Dean said. “Yeah, no, I know, I just. I felt kinda bad. You didn’t mean to, uh… Anyway.”

Sam gave a little laugh. “Okay,” he said slowly.

“So.” Dean cleared his throat. He should just say it. “Cas is staying here for a while.”

Sam choked on his coffee. After a fit of coughing, he looked at Dean with wide eyes. “What? When — did you — What?”

“He got mugged last night at some bar,” Dean said, looking resolutely at the ground. “So I, uh, I picked him up. I owe him one, you know, for drivin’ me to the hospital and all that.”

Sam eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion. “I thought you were pissed at him.” He sat up a little straighter. “Actually, if I remember this right, you’ve been so pissed at him for the last three years that I haven’t been allowed to talk about him.”

Dean clasped his hands together and hung his head. “Look, man, I felt bad, okay? I was being dumb not offering in the first place. The dude’s gonna be here at least until the end of next week.” He finally looked up at Sam and gave a shrug, aiming for nonchalance and missing it by about three miles. “It’s the right thing to do.”

Sam looked unconvinced. “Where’s he gonna sleep?”

“Couch.”

“Right. And you’re gonna be totally cool with him around?” Dean didn’t answer. “That’s what I thought.” He sighed. “What the hell are you doing, man?”

“I told you,” Dean grumbled. “The right thing.”

Sam looked at him with so much pity that it made Dean squirm. “You want me to send him back?” He almost hoped Sam would say yes, give him an excuse to be the total asshole he was.

“No!” Sam said quickly. “No, I’m excited to see Cas. Damn, it’s been a while. I just… Confused. Last night —”

“He’s outside,” Dean interrupted quietly.

“What?” Sam exclaimed. He jumped up from the air mattress. “Cas is here? Right now?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?” Dean grumbled.

Sam rolled his eyes and made for the front door. He threw it open, and Dean followed behind him, rolling his eyes at the dramatics.

They descended the single flight of stairs. Cas was leaning against the Impala, his small suitcase leaning at his right. Dean felt a smile tug at his lips. The guy hadn’t accumulated much since he’d last seen him, apparently. Seeing Cas smile at Sam, standing next to the Impala, Dean felt that same feeling. Like nothing had changed. He pushed it away.

“Cas!” Sam said, all happiness. “Dude, it’s so great to see you.” He wrapped the other man into a hug. Cas hugged him back with a small smile, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. Dean stood a ways back, his arms crossed.

“Sam,” he said once they’d parted. “It’s very good to see you, too.”

“How have you been? Where have you been? You graduated already?”

Dean spoke up at that. “Sam, enough questions, the dude just got the shit beat out of him, like, eight hours ago.”

Cas gave him a hard look. “I didn’t get the ‘shit beat out of me,’” he grumbled, punctuating the phrase with air quotes. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Damn, Cas,” Sam said, squinting at the black eye, as if he’d just realized it. “That looks like it hurts.”

“It’s fine,” Cas said.

Sam let out a huff of laughter. Dean raised an eyebrow and shoved him in the back. “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Sam said, regaining his composure. “It’s just… Maybe you two are bad luck together.” He gestured at Dean, “First, you get concussed—” and then at Cas, “—and you get a black eye.” He shrugged. “Kinda funny.”

Dean glared at him. Cas gave him a smile that said in bright neon letters, “this is me, humoring you.”

“Whatever,” Dean said. “Are y’all hungry? I’m gonna make breakfast.”

Sam grinned. “Yes!” He turned to Cas. “Dean makes the best breakfast.”

Cas gave him a small, sad smile. “I know.”

Sam’s grin faltered at that, and Dean was already regretting this whole altruistic move. He just turned and made his way back up to the apartment, Sam and Cas close behind him.

Dean tried to focus on the sizzling of the frying pan instead of Sam’s animated conversation with Cas about how he’d gotten into UT with a scholarship and was studying political science on the pre-law track. His ears betrayed him when Sam asked Cas about his last three years.

“Well, I… I finished that first year at Wichita State, off-campus. I transferred to the University of Oklahoma for the last five semesters. They have an excellent accounting program,” he added, as if that explained everything. Dean could feel his eyes on him, could practically taste the trepidation in his voice. “I was fortunate enough to intern at a firm in Kansas City last summer.”

“That’s where you’re headed?” Sam asked. Cas nodded.

“Hold on,” Sam said. “You said you finished your first year at WSU? So you were in Wichita until —”

Dean coughed loudly. He wished he could have chosen something louder for breakfast, like a smoothie. He plated up the eggs and bacon and offered a dish to Sam and Cas.

“Thank you,” Cas said, all-too earnestly. Sam just rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“‘S no problem,” Dean said. He grabbed his own plate and shoveled the food into his mouth, despite his appetite having abruptly left him at the revelation that Cas had been in Wichita far longer than he’d thought.  

The three of them ate in relative silence, broken occasionally by Sam’s attempts at small-talk. Dean got up and poured the rest of the coffee into a mug, silently setting it down before Cas. When he was met with raised eyebrows, Dean only shrugged.

Dean saw more of Lawrence that weekend than he had in the past three years. He tagged along with Sam to the outlet mall, then dragged his brother to his favorite burger place and the local pie shop downtown. He left the apartment at eight on Sunday to take the Impala to the do-it-yourself car wash. He spent four hours detailing the car, in and out, top to bottom. Once that was finished, he voluntarily went into the shop to finish billing paperwork that Bobby hadn’t gotten to. When the stacks of paper were no more, he even drove all the way across town to one of his old bartending spots to catch up with his former coworkers.

It turned out, living with Cas was easy if Dean never saw him.

Dean knew his avoidance scheme was obvious, but what else could he do? Being in the same room as Cas for more than ten minutes made his head pound, and he was ninety percent sure it wasn’t his concussion. So Sam could raise his eyebrows all he wanted, Dean would still find all manner of errands to run and things to do.

On Monday, he went back to see Dr. Barnes. She checked him over and determined that his stitches could be removed.

“Thank god,” Dean muttered as she updated his chart. “Does that mean I can go back to work?”

She gave him a look. “How are your concussion symptoms?”

“Nonexistent,” he said, and that was mostly true. He still tried to avoid sudden changes of elevation, and he wasn’t about to start blaring music again, but no more pulsing headaches or light sensitivity.

“I suppose you can get back in the shop, as long as you’re careful,” Dr. Barnes replied. “You don’t work on Christmas, do you?”

Dean shook his head.

“Well, it definitely wouldn’t hurt to take the whole week off and go back after the holiday,” she pointed out.

“But I could go back. If my boss needed me,” Dean said.

Dr. Barnes smiled. “Yes.”

Dean let out a sigh of relief. Maybe he could get Cas’s car done earlier than he thought.

After his stitches were out, he thanked Dr. Barnes and made his way back to the Impala. He was almost smiling as he made his way to the shop. No stitches, no concussion, and soon, no Cas living in his apartment. His life was going back to normal.

Dean walked into the office, and Bobby looked at him with murder on his face.

“You idjit, you’re not —”

Dean waved a paper at him. “Doctor said I’m cleared for work,” he said smugly.

Bobby narrowed his eyes and gestured for the paper. Dean handed it to him, and he scrutinized its contents intently. With a grunt, he returned the paper to Dean and crossed his arms.

“How much you pay her to say that?” He said.

Dean smirked. “C’mon Bobby, I wouldn’t do that.” Bobby scoffed in disbelief. “You looked at Cas’s car yet?”

Bobby sighed. “Not yet. Bunch of oil changes with holiday travel and shit. I’ll pull it into a bay if you wanna have a look.”

Dean nodded eagerly.

Once Cas’s ninety-something Honda Civic was parked, Dean lifted the hood and started diagnostics. Apparently, the car had just stopped in the middle of the road. There was gas in the tank, Dean noted with relief. Some people ran down to empty and then got confused why the engine died. He checked the alternator, no problems there. He had Bobby turn the ignition while he listened to the fuel pump, but it was working, too.

He sighed as he reached for a compression gauge. If Bobby had been right, and the valves really were bent, he was going to have a fit.

Sure enough, half of the valves wouldn’t hold pressure. Dean groaned. He would have to replace the timing belt, too, then. Bobby was going to regret that promise of a free fix. More than that, though, Dean was regretting his promise of free lodging. Fixing Cas’s car, even if it was the only one he had to deal with, would take at least three full days. But he and Bobby really were packed with maintenance appointments, and they always had dinky little repair jobs around the holidays. Cas was stuck in Lawrence for at least another week. He’d be there for Christmas.

Dean relayed the news to Bobby, who just shrugged and grumbled about how Dean’s concussion was about to cost him three grand between labor and parts. Dean spent the rest of the day changing oil and air filters, performing alignments, rotating tires. It felt good to be back in the shop.

He called Sam on his way home, and his brother insisted that Dean make burgers for dinner. Dean had forgotten he’d be cooking for three until Sam started talking about his second day spent with Cas. Apparently, in Dean’s absence, they had become great buddies, talking about all kinds of nerd stuff Dean didn’t bother to commit to memory.

“Hold on,” Sam said while Dean was in Wal-Mart getting dinner materials. Dean heard a door open and close on the other line before Sam began speaking again.

“Are you gonna get his car done before Christmas?” He asked.

“Definitely not,” Dean said, throwing two pounds of ground beef into his basket. “The valves are bent, which means the timing belt’s fucked too. He’s stuck here until Monday, best case scenario.”

“You should invite him to Bobby’s, then.”

Dean almost dropped the buns in his hand. “I should what?”

“Come on, Dean, the poor guy’s gonna have to spend Christmas alone, otherwise,” Sam whined.

“Dude, not happening.”

“You’re being an idiot.”

“Sam, you have no idea what you’re asking,” Dean argued as he made his way to the self-checkout. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to avoid Cas, not induct him into the family.”

Sam huffed on the other line. “You’re right, I don’t know what I’m asking, but that’s only because you refuse to tell me what happened.”

“It’s really not that complicated,” Dean grumbled. “He didn’t want a damn thing to do with me. Ask him.”

“I already did, and he wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“What?” Dean was doing his best to keep from shouting in the middle of the busy store. “Why would you do that?”

“You just told me I should!” Sam retorted.

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have done it without asking me first!” Dean hissed. He yanked his credit card from the machine and waited impatiently for his receipt to print.

Sam groaned. “Look, that’s not the point —” “What’s the point, Sam?” Dean demanded. The frigid December air was welcome against his face, hot with frustration. “I don’t need you playing Dr. Phil for me and Cas, okay? I can handle my own bullshit.”

“Whatever,” Sam muttered.

Dean took a deep breath as he got into the car. “I’m leaving Wal-Mart now. I’ll see you at home, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Sam was uncharacteristically silent as Dean prepared the meal. He had some documentary playing on the TV. Cas was sitting in the armchair, reading a book. When the burgers were done, Dean delivered a plate to each of them.

“I’m gonna FaceTime Eileen,” Sam announced, getting up to leave the room.

“While you’re eating?” Dean wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Sam rolled his eyes and closed Dean’s bedroom door behind him. Dean shook his head.

An awkward silence settled over the living room as Dean and Cas ate their burgers. It was the first time they’d been alone since Dean had picked him up from the motel.

“This is very good,” Cas said at the same moment Dean said, “I looked at your car.”

Dean blushed at the compliment. “Sorry,” he said. “Uh, glad you like it.”

Cas gave a single nod. “You looked at my car?”

“Yeah, uh, bad news,” Dean said, taking a sip of his beer. “Half of your valves are fucked.” At Cas’s vacant stare, he elaborated, “My guess is your timing belt is banged up. It’s causing the pistons to fire out of time, so they hit the valves wrong. The cylinders can’t keep pressure if the valves don’t work. That’s why your engine died.”

Cas furrowed his brow. “What should I do to keep that from happening?”

“Not much you can do ‘sides replace the belt every hundred thousand miles or so. They just kind of break.”

“How long will the repair take?”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s the bad news. You’re stuck here for at least another week. Sorry, man, it’s just… Christmas, and all that.”

Cas gave a weak smile. “No apology necessary.” He took a sip of water. “How’s your head?”

“All better,” Dean said. “Doc took the stitches out today.”

“I noticed.”

“Said it would still probably scar, but at least I’m back in the shop.”

Cas gave a polite nod but didn’t say anything more. Dean took both their plates to the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher. Dean got to work cleaning up the burger mess.

“What did you end up majoring in?” Cas asked, and the abrupt sound of his voice made Dean jump. He scrubbed the frying pan intently.

“Never did figure that out,” Dean replied gruffly.

“What?” Cas asked, confused. “Didn’t you finish at WSU?”

Dean put the pan on his drying rack and paused, gripping the edges of the counter, his head hanging low to his chest. He took a breath. Here it was, the conversation he hated having. The one that tattooed “I’m a massive failure” in block letters on his forehead.

“Nope,” he said. He turned around, a scowl on his face. The last person he needed to take shit from was Cas. “Do you think I’d be living in this dump if I had a degree?”

Cas’s brows knit together. “Your apartment is quite nice,” he said. “Why didn’t you finish?”

Dean shrugged, playing at nonchalance. “It was too hard,” he said, the same answer he gave everyone, because it was the most believable. It was the easiest. He could handle everyone thinking he was a grade-A idiot with a GED and a mechanic certification. He couldn’t handle the pity that came with admitting that he simply couldn’t put himself back together after his father died.

Cas looked doubtful. “Right,” he said after a moment.

Dean felt trapped under Cas’s scrutinous gaze. He cleared his throat, selecting the least exhausting of his many questions to push attention back to Cas.

“I’m still surprised you’re not some big-shot writer already,” he said, turning back to the kitchen. He set about wiping down the stovetop. “It always seemed like you were really into that stuff.” As a memory tickled the edges of his brain, he added, “Good at it, too.”

“Yes, well,” Cas said, letting out a slow breath. “By the spring of my freshman year, it became evident that my priorities were misplaced. I spent too much time writing, not enough time working on my accounting classes.” Cas paused as Dean replaced his cleaning supplies to their places under the sink. When he stood back up, Cas was giving him a meaningful look.

“And sometimes,” he said, deliberately, “Sometimes, the things we love can be bad for us, in the end. Despite how happy they might make us in the moment.”

Dean snorted. He knew Cas was trying to make some bigger point, but he wasn’t willing to follow him there. “I dunno,” he said. “Pretty much everything I love is always awesome.”

“Really,” Cas deadpanned.

“Yup,” Dean said with a nod. “Sam, Bobby, the rest of my family… Hell, they’re always good, always there when I need ‘em. I’ve always loved working on cars, and now that pays the bills. Pie. Obviously.” He held up his hands.

“Well, I’m elated that everything you’re passionate about has worked out for you,” Cas said, his tone caustic. “I suppose not everyone is so lucky.”

They held each other’s gaze for a moment. Tension was rolling off Cas in waves. This was good, Dean could work with this. Cas looking at him with some unknown emotion, trying to talk about what happened… The thought alone gave him a headache. But Cas looking at him like he was doing his best not to murder him, like he was insufferable and ridiculous, that, he could face.

A week. He could do this for one week.

But Cas was rearranging his expression into something gentler, breathing deeply through the anger Dean was provoking.

“I know I’ve hurt you,” Cas said with a sigh. “And I know the last thing you want to do is talk about it,” he added, as Dean opened his mouth to say just that. Dean crossed his arms, his jaw set.

“I won’t bring it up again, I promise,” Cas said in earnest. “But you have to know, I only… It wasn’t intentional.” A pause. “I only left because you told me to go.”

Dean felt something cave in his chest. Everything went slack. “What?” He hissed.  

Cas cocked his head, eyes narrowed. “Do you not remember?”

“Cas,” Dean said, his voice a poor attempt at measured, “What are you talking about?”

Cas just stared at him, confused and piteous. Before he could speak, Sam emerged from Dean’s room with his dirty plate.

“Thanks for dinner, Dean,” Sam said. He seemed to have calmed down from their earlier argument. “You wanna watch A New Hope tonight?”

Dean was still staring at Cas, who was studying the ground with great intensity. He barely heard Sam’s question.

“Yo,” Sam said, waving a hand in front of his face. “You hear me?”

Dean blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m beat, honestly,” he said. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay.”

Sam smirked at him. “You’re old, dude.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Night, Sammy,”

“Sleep well, old man,” Sam joked.

Dean turned and made his way to his room. He could vaguely hear Sam asking Cas what he wanted to watch, but his brain was swimming.

Thinking that maybe, probably, everything had been his fault, that was one thing. To hear it, straight from the source, from Cas…

I only left because you told me to go.

Dean closed his bedroom door behind him and grabbed the bottle of scotch from inside his desk. As he poured a generous glass, he sifted through his final memories with Cas, trying to find something that would make those words make sense. He might have spent the better part of that spring in a haze, but he was sure he would have remembered telling Cas to leave. All he could remember was waking up on the floor of their room one morning, his clothes reeking of whiskey, one half of the room empty.

That was a bad day. He’d completely blacked out the night before, and still felt pretty drunk when he’d woken up. He remembered calling Cas over and over again. Eventually, the calls stopped ringing out and started going straight to voicemail. Dean hadn’t left the room that day, despite having a full day of classes. He didn’t shower. He simply remained in the same spot, feeling more and more hopeless as the minutes went by. In his desperation, he’d even called Meg. She told him that Cas had left and that he should delete both their numbers. She called him a fuck-up. She spoke with so much hatred that Dean couldn’t even get a word in before she hung up on him.

Losing his dad, that was one thing. Losing Cas, after everything…

Dean finished his drink and poured another. Downed it in one sip.

If he hadn’t already, Dean had hit rock bottom when Cas left. Long nights bled into longer days. When he eventually realized that, without Cas, no one noticed when he skipped class, or didn’t come home, or didn’t eat, he just stopped. He didn’t open a textbook for the rest of the semester, he crashed on any and every stranger’s couch, he lived off of beer and liquor and the occasional dining hall burger.

Dean stripped off his clothes, the alcoholic haze just beginning to slow his movements. He turned on the shower and got in, the scalding water providing a welcome touch of pain. He stood there, the scotch progressively settling into its neural blockade, but failing to quiet the echoing of Cas’s words.

At first, he had blamed himself. Of course Cas left, because who would have stayed? Dean was a fuck-up, just like Meg said. John had known it, and he’d never let Dean forget it, as if Dean needed any help remembering. He couldn’t protect Sam from John, not all the time. He couldn’t even make it past sixteen without adopting a crippling nicotine addiction. Worst of all, he couldn’t suffer through four more years at home. If he could have done that, if he could have just stayed a little longer, John would have still been alive. Sam wouldn’t have been an orphan at fourteen.

At some point, though, it wasn’t enough to be angry at himself. Because, sure, he was a disaster of a human being, but Cas had known that. He’d seen all of the bullshit, and Cas still… They were still friends. Or, he’d at least let Dean think they were. But how could they have been? The second Dean needed him, really needed him, Cas had bailed.

The shower was spinning. Dean turned off the head and stumbled out, having no idea how long he’d been standing there. He towelled off and haphazardly threw on a pair of underwear before collapsing into his bed.

He laid there for a moment, eyes closed, sinking into the false gyration of the room. Sam and Cas were talking in low voices in the living room, but Dean couldn’t pick out a single word. He opened the drawer in his bedside table, fumbling around for his headphones. His fingers brushed a stack of paper. Dean frowned and pulled it out.

It was nearly fifty pages, front and back. The paper was crumpled all over; stains dappled the text. The first page was blank, save a note written in neat, blue script.

I couldn’t have written this without you. Thank you. Merry Christmas.

-CN

Dean flipped through the pages for what could have been the millionth time. He wasn’t reading the lines of text, only catching a few words here and there.

Dean was staring at the cover page again when a knock sounded at his door.

“Yeah,” Dean said gruffly, setting the papers on his nightstand.

He’d been expecting Sam, but it was Cas who poked his head around the door. “Dean?” He said, “I’m going to use your shower, if that’s all right.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Sure,” he said. “No problem.”

Cas made his way to the bathroom, but stopped dead at the bedside table. He was staring at the papers.

“You kept this?” He said in a strangled voice.

Dean didn’t even look at him, just muttered something incomprehensible in affirmation.

“Dean…” His voice was damn-near pleading. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, willing his mind back to languid blankness.

And maybe it was the scotch, maybe it was the feeling of Cas staring at him, maybe it was the pages filled with Cas’s words that Dean had read so many times he’d almost memorized it. Whatever it was, his head was pounding, and the effort of holding his grudge suddenly seemed worthless. He could avoid and irritate Cas for a week. Or…

“Can we just forget about it?” Dean said.

“What?” Cas replied.

“All of it. Everything,” Dean said, and he knew he wasn’t making sense, but he didn’t care. “Just… Water under the bridge. Start over.”

Cas was quiet for a moment before muttering a tentative, “Sure.”

“Good,” Dean said, and he was suddenly very tired. “G’night.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” Cas said, somewhere between sadness and hope.

------------

taglist! lemme know if u wanna be added :]

@nguyenxtrang @castielsbeeslippers

#destiel #supernatural #deancas #destiel fic

[ragewerthers]

Take My Hand

Summary:  Kuroo has a song stuck in his head. Or to be more precise, Daichi seems to have a song stuck in his head and Kuroo finds himself absolutely addicted to it.  What does it mean?  And what could it lead to?

A/n: This is for Kurodai Mid-Birthday Week 2019! I went with the song inspired prompt and it took me almost til the end of the fic to figure out which song I wanted, haha!

It is ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love With You- by Elvis Presley’. It’s an oldie but a goodie! :D

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21741760

Enjoy! :D

Word Count: 2227

————————-

“Hmm… hmmmm… hmmmmmmmm…,”

“Daichi?”

“Hmmhmm… hmmmhmmmm… hmmmmm…,”

“Sa’amura?”

Kuroo peeked his head around the corner of their shared apartment, glancing at his roommate who seemed to be lost in his own little world.  He had to bite back a smile as he saw the way the former Karasuno captain continued to hum from his spot in front of the kitchen counter.  Swaying back and forth as he mixed together something for dinner he seemed to have lost himself completely to a song in his head.

They had been living off campus for awhile now.   It had seemed like a good idea.  Both were still getting their feet under them and renting an apartment together and sharing expenses would definitely make things easier.  Not to mention they knew one another from high school and a friendship had definitely grown from their rivalry all those years ago.  Daichi was a bit more serious than Kuroo and helped to ground him a bit.  Kuroo was  bit more outgoing and helped to pull Sawamura from his shell.  Their cohabitation was definitely beneficial to both parties, but Kuroo did wish that he’d had an inkling of what was going to happen so he could’ve prepared himself a bit more.

In their time living together they had grown used to each others little idiosyncrasies.  This one in particular was one of Kuroo’s favorites not that he would ever say anything to Daichi.  If he did, the man might stop altogether.  There was just something so… endearing about catching the other man in these moments.  He never sang… always just a little hummed song and only when he thought he was alone or he got caught up in a task.

However, it was always the same song.

It had started just a few weeks into them living together.  Kuroo had been hidden away in his room attempting to get in some extra studying and before he’d known it the clock had read somewhere near one.  Groaning he’d leaned back from his small desk, feeling his spine pop pleasantly and had decided to head into the kitchen to find a snack.

That was the first time he’d heard it.

Making his way quietly down the hallway he’d heard a quiet mumbling.  No… not a mumble.  A rumble?  No.  They hadn’t quite fit the sound either.  As he drew closer to the little kitchen he’d noticed that a light had been left on and his brow furrowed.  Quietly he’d glanced around the corner and seen Sawamura standing over by their small stove.  He was stirring something in a saucepan that smelled suspiciously of chocolate, but what caught Kuroo’s attention more was that he finally registered the noise.

The man was humming.

It was quiet and soft, but a song nonetheless.

Kuroo felt something in his heart flutter as he heard it and he’d had to take a moment to find the breath he’d lost.  Why had it effecting him so?  He’d actually had to compose himself against the hallway wall before working up the nerve to make his entrance.  Not wanting to startle the other he’d taken a deep breath and made his footsteps a little louder as he entered into the kitchen.  As expected, the humming had instantly stopped, but Daichi didn’t look startled or embarrassed.  Actually he’d turned his head and given Kuroo a little smile, making Kuroo wonder if he’d even known he’d been doing it in the first place.

“So… couldn’t sleep either?” Daichi had asked, opening one of their cupboards and pulling out another mug.

“No… studying got away from me… a bit… by three hours,” Kuroo had answered honestly, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish grin, still feeling the way his heart beat a little faster in his chest.

“Well… lucky for you that I made a bit too much cocoa to help with my own sleeplessness.  Here… I’ll pour you a cup as well.”

The warm feeling that infiltrated Kuroo’s chest upon hearing the soft humming only grew at the gesture.  He’d happily accepted the drink and they’d spent another half hour chatting in the kitchen before they’d finally called it an evening when Daichi had almost nodded off at their kitchen table.

After that one evening, there had been a few more instances of Kuroo being caught off guard by that humming and each time his heart felt like it was going to flutter out of his chest.

It was around the fifth time that he realized that perhaps… possibly… he may be harboring a bit of a flame for the other man.  There was no denying that when they were younger he’d had a crush on the guy.  Who didn’t?!  Or to be more specific… who couldn’t?  He was strong, smart, charming… you’d have to be an idiot to not have had a crush on one Sawamura Daichi.  However, Kuroo had simply pushed back his feelings.  It was supposed to have been a highschool crush, nothing more.  They were all getting ready to start their university careers and who would have time for something trivial like that?  He’d been completely content to just continue a friendship nothing more.

But…

But….

Then he’d had to hear that soft, gentle humming that made his heart flutter, his stomach feel like there were butterflies inside and his knees feel like jelly… and now all those old feelings came rushing back like a tsunami.

And that had only been the start of his troubles.  Ever since the realization had struck he’d found himself falling harder and harder for the man with each passing day.  Did Daichi even realize what he was doing to him?!

Probably not.  But every teasing comment, every home cooked meal, every time they shared a moment together only seemed to make the fondness in his heart grow for the former captain.

So… here he was, standing in the hallway, listening to Daichi humming that same song like always, his heart beating a mile a minute and savoring every second.  He would happily stand there and listen to this song over and over again and to be fair… hadn’t he already been doing that?  The only thing that ever bothered him… was that he had yet to be able to figure out what the song was.

How many times had he secretly heard it now?  Fifteen?  Fifty?  Maybe somewhere in the middle, but each time he would go through the list of songs he knew and not once was he ever able to come up with the right tune or melody to match.

He’d even gone so far as to ask Bokuto and Kenma for help, but he himself had never really been able to carry a tune.  When he’d tried to hum the song or sing it a bit, he’d gotten two different reactions.

Kenma had asked if he was being serious or if he was trying to purposefully sing off key.

Bokuto had laughed so hard he had literally cried, claiming that Kuroo sounded exactly like a cat yowling in an alleyway.

Needless to say he’d given up asking others for help after that.

Still, there was something kind of thrilling about it.  A little mystery that Kuroo hoped to one day figure out or… that maybe one day Daichi would be willing to confide in him?  But honestly, what were the chances of that?  He didn’t know that Kuroo was harboring these feelings.  Daichi probably had no idea that he hoped to one day have more than this friendship, but

“Wise men say… only fools rush in… But I can’t help… falling in love… with… you,”

Kuroo’s smile faltered as he heard the humming shift into Daichi’s smooth voice, though the other still kept his words soft.  In an instant, the former Nekoma captains entire world focused completely onto that melody.  

“Shall I stay?  Would it be a sin?  If I can’t help… falling in love… with… you.”

The words were so gentle that it made Kuroo’s heart ache as he listened to it.  This was far more… personal than when he’d simply heard the melody hummed along in Daichi’s timbre.  This… this was a song the man honestly felt.

But for who? 

“Like a river flows, surely to the sea… darling so it goes… some things are meant to be.”

With every word, Kuroo found himself drawn more and more to Daichi.  He needed to know just who was it that was making this… amazing man sing so openly from the heart?  There was no way a song like this just gets stuck in a person’s head for weeks without there being a catalyst for it.

“Take my hand… take my whole life too.  For I… can’t… help… falling in love… with… K-KUROO?!”

The spell was immediately broken as Kuroo realized that he hadn’t just been drawn to Daichi’s words on an emotional level.  Apparently, much like a bed-headed moth to a flame, he’d made his way from his spot in the hallway to stand directly behind Daichi… managing to scare the hell out of the man and almost getting a wooden spoon to the face.

“Do I have to get a bell for you?!  Oh my heart….,” Daichi panted, clutching his chest and trying to get his breath back.  “Wh-what… are you doing sneaking up on me like that?”

Kuroo felt his ears heating up as he realized that he really, really didn’t have a good enough reason to be there.  His original reason for even being in the hallway to begin with was completely lost to him so his mouth decided to try and help as his brain slowly short circuited.

“Who are you singing about?” he asked quietly, his brain finally kicking in to remind him that his mouth said stupid, stupid things when left to its own devices.

Daichi’s entire face turned a slightly unhealthy shade of crimson and he cleared his throat.  “Oh… I… it was… I heard it on the radio today,” he said with a shrug, turning back to the food he’d been working on.

However, Kuroo found he really couldn’t let this go.  Not now.

“If you just heard it today, Sa’amura… then why have you been humming it for weeks?” he asked, stepping a little closer to the man, enough to see that the crimson color was now moving to his ears.

“No I haven’t.”

“Yes you have.”

“Prove it.”

“What are you, five?”

“What are you, five?”

Kuroo actually snorted as his own question was mimicked back at him in a very non-Daichi way.  Apparently he’d already had an effect on the man from them living together… and he was starting to wonder if perhaps in more ways than he’d dared to hope if the blush was anything to go by.

“Actually.  I can prove it,” he said with a wider smile, watching as Daichi turned to him with a narrowed expression.

“Is that right?” he asked, folding his arms over his broad chest and all but daring Kuroo to continue.

This only made Kuroo  grin and he nodded.  “I can prove it because I’ve been trying to figure out what this song is for just as long.  Since I first heard you humming it when making cocoa.  I’ve asked Kenma… hell I’ve even asked Bo!  I can name each and every time I’ve heard it because… each time it has always made me stop… and made my heart feel like it was going to flutter out of my chest,” he admitted, watching the way Daichi’s eyes widened before he quickly ducked his head to look at the floor.

Kuroo’s own expression softened and he stepped closer, carefully reaching forward and taking Daichi’s hand in his.

“Y-You don’t have to… you don’t… if you don’t feel the same I understand… I…,” Daichi seemed to be floundering for words now, as if his darkest secret was finally being exposed and Kuroo would take it and crush it in his hands before him.

Kuroo couldn’t take that.  Couldn’t take seeing and hearing that worry and fear and knew he had to make sure Daichi understood… really understood.

“T-Take… my hand.  Take my whole life too…,” he began, his words slow and careful and the notes a little offkey.  “For I… can’t… help.  Falling in love… with… you.”

Daichi’s eyes instantly glanced up as he sang, his eyes wide as if trying to decide if this was real or not.  But just as Kuroo was beginning to wonder if he’d misstepped he watched as a smile began to spread over Daichi’s face and the shorter man brought his free hand up to stifle a laugh.

It was Kuroo’s turn to feel his cheeks going red and he cleared his throat.  “S-Sorry.  I… I’m not very good at singing.  Ask Bo!  He almost passed out he laughed so hard when I tried to get his help figuring it ou-,”  His words were cut off as soft lips pressed against his own.

He remained frozen in that moment as Daichi leaned back, a warm smile on his face that Kuroo vowed he’d always work to keep there.

“I don’t know what Bo’s talking about,” Daichi murmured softly, giving Kuroo’s fingers a soft squeeze in his own as the former Nekoma captain realized that this man held his heart utterly and completely.  “You sounded perfect to me.”

#kurodai week 2019 #kurodai #Kuroo Tetsurou #sawamura daichi #fluff #nontickles #music inspired #I love this song #I love this pairing #my fics #Kurodaiweek #kurodaiweek2019

[randomoranges]

amnesia au part 150

--

It was a perfect September day – still warm during the day, but cooling off in the evening. As was their new bi-monthly usual, Jacques and Étienne went out for lunch at a local diner close to home. Jacques had found out about this family run place when he had first moved to Trois-Rivières, many years ago, and it had become an instant favourite. It was a small, quaint place, served hot dogs, hamburgers and poutines and was appreciated by all who came here. He liked taking the kids here and sometimes even came with just Suzette and ever since Étienne was staying with him, he had extended the invitation to his brother. It gave them a chance to catch up away from the rest of the family and some quality brother time.

“Alright, spill, what’s on your mind? You’ve been fidgety all day,” Jacques said after he took a bite of his burger. From across the wooden picnic table, Étienne gave him a small, sheepish smile and stole a fry from him. Jacques didn’t say anything about it and made sure his brother could reach out for as many fries as he wanted. It was good to see his appetite returning.

The first time they had come here, Étienne had barely managed a handful of stolen fries and half a can of iced tea. Little by little, his food intake had increased and Jacques was more than happy to let Étienne eat as much of the shared poutine as he wanted to and have all the fries his heart desired.

“So, I’ve been thinking, I think I’d like to go back home – soon...” Étienne finally told him. He spared his brother a glance and Jacques was surprised by the news. He liked having Étienne around. It would be strange to see him go, even though he always knew that eventually Étienne would leave, but if his brother was thinking of heading home, then that was also a good thing. It meant he was healing.

“Oh? Did you have a date in mind?”

“In a month or so? Maybe after Thanksgiving? If that’s okay with you and you don’t want me out sooner,” He joked and Jacques rolled his eyes at him and flicked the bottle cap of his own soda at him.

“You know we don’t mind having you over – you’re more than welcome to stay for as long as you want.”

“I know – and really, thanks again for literally everything.”

Jacques reached over for his hand and gave it a warm squeeze, “Of course – you’re family, but you know the kids are gonna miss you like crazy.”

“I know,” Étienne pouted, “I’m gonna miss them too! If you think you’ve got your hands full, I’d be more than willing to take one or two with me,” He grinned at his brother and Jacques laughed at his antics.

“Jokes put aside though, d’you have a plan, for when you go back?”

Étienne was quiet as he munched on another fry, “I’m not sure yet – I mean, I gotta keep up with physio and therapy, but I guess I gotta see if I can get cleared to work – or start working... that’s what I keep getting stuck on – what do I do when I get back? Everyone works or has families of their own – there are a lot of hours in a day when you can’t properly function...” He sighed a bit at that. He was still working on his list with Dre. Labonté and he knew there were certain things he could do. Work wise, if he got the clear, then he could hopefully start on some small project and build up. He didn’t need to get involved with multiple projects all at once, but one at a time sounded feasible.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, you always do,” Jacques reassured him with a kind smile.

“Y’know, I’m gonna miss hanging out like this with you, believe it or not,” Jacques added after a lapsed moment of silence. “Reminded me of when we were kids,” His brother smiled softly at that. “I remember when you were little and you’d come and sit in my room, when you were tired of playing with El,” Étienne laughed at the memory. There had been so many of those instances.

“Yeah? And I somehow remember you not being very thrilled when we had to room together once El and I got too old to share and Sam moved.” They exchanged a look at that, straight faced and all, before breaking out in matching grins.

“I had finally gotten my own room! Sam had finally left! I had space! And then my annoying kid brother had to come and crash in. How would you have felt?”

They’d had this discussion thousands of times before and Étienne knew his brother was kidding around with him. Jacques had been mildly put off at his loss of freedom, but he’d adapted and they’d cohabitated nicely. Jacques had even said he’d been a better roommate than Samuel.

“At least you were a boy. I had to share with El for twelve years.” Jacques gave his hand a sympathetic pat.

“And I had to share with Sam for close to fifteen years, so there.”

He had a point on that.

“Still, you fucked off to here after you were done with Cégep, so really, El and I won in the end and got our own rooms.”

“Which you didn’t even properly appreciate since you moved out, like, two years later.”

“The commute to school was garbage and it was getting awkward bringing anyone home to sleep with.”

“I’ll give you that much.”

“I still remember that summer I came over to see you and you introduced me to Suzie,” Étienne started, smiling softly. It had been right after Jacques’ first year of university. He was staying here, since he’d gotten a summer job. Étienne remembered their parents being a little disappointed Jacques wouldn’t be coming home for the summer break. Étienne had been feeling restless and had decided on a whim to go and visit his brother. The change of scenery would do him good and he’d figured they could go out, pick up, and do whatever for a week or two. But then he’d arrived and his brother had been tongue-tied and shy and it had made Étienne suspicious.

“You were such a goner for her already,” He teased and it was amusing how Jacques’ cheeks coloured slightly, even after all these years. “I still remember getting to your place in the morning and you’d gotten the dates mixed up. And you were such a dishevelled mess. I was about to tease the hell out of you, but then Suzette came out of your room wearing your shirt and I swear to God I thought you were gonna die on the spot.” Étienne laughed richly at the memory. Jacques had tried stammering out some wild excuse, but Étienne had simply clapped him on the back and then introduced himself to Suzette, before stepping out for a smoke to give them both some time to straighten themselves out.

“From that first day I knew you were gonna marry her,” Étienne looked back to his brother and shook his head, amused. Even after all these years, four kids and their own ups and downs, Jacques was still head over heels for her. If ever there was a poster couple for love... it was them. He’d looked up to their relationship for so long. Had wondered how it was possible for anyone to be so much in love. Spending the summer with them now, it had reminded him of that and at times, he’d even been a little jealous of what his brother had.

“Yeah, well, speak for yourself, kiddo, you weren’t exactly smooth with Edward either,” Jacques’ eyes widened and he apologised for bringing him up, but Étienne assured him that it was fine. Edward had been part of their lives for a long time, it was only normal that he’d come up in their stories. Plus, he was getting better at this.

“Go on, pray do tell, how was I not the epitome of smooth? I thought I had it under control,” He challenged and Jacques cackled. In his opinion, Étienne had been far from smooth.

“Look, before Edward you’d barely even brought anyone home. There was Geneviève when you were in high school, right, that was her name? You went out with her for two years? Went to prom with her?” Étienne nodded at that, “And then there was Marc-Antoine when you were in Cégep.” Étienne remembered them both fondly. Had it not been for Marc-Antoine moving out to the middle of nowhere for university, they might have still been a thing, and Geneviève was still a friend he spoke to regularly. “Other than that, you never brought anyone home or told us about anyone you were seeing, unlike Sam who brought everyone home from guys he met the night before to those he’d been seeing for three plus months.”

Étienne groaned at that. Samuel really was the worst when it came to bringing “significant others” home. Their parents had always been very encouraging, but Étienne wished they had set the foot down for anyone who hadn’t been in the portrait for at least two consecutive months.

“Anyways. When you brought Edward home that first Christmas? Before you were dating? I knew he’d show up again.”

“How – we weren’t even dating?”

“Because, if you bothered bringing someone home it meant they were special and important to you. That you really liked them. Plus, you kept on giving him the most stupid moony looks at him whenever he wasn’t looking at you. It was really pathetic, if you really want to know.”

Étienne flicked the bottle cap back at him. “I was not pathetic and I wasn’t giving him moony looks.” He defended, even though he knew it was a lost cause.

“Whatever you say, but I’ll have you know that when you did bring him back as a boyfriend, it was even worse. But it was also sweet – the way you made sure to introduce him to everyone in the family and how you included him in the conversations or explained a back story to some anecdote. I could tell he meant a lot to you, even if you didn’t know it yet...”

“I was just looking out for him! You did the same with Suzie.”

“I know, that’s why I knew he’d be around for a while.”

Étienne could tell that his cheeks were burning up but he did his best to ignore it and stole his brother’s pickle off his plate as retaliation. Jacques laughed and let him be for now.

--

PREVIOUS: CXLIX

CURRENT: CL

NEXT: CLI

#pc: montreal #pc: trois-rivières #étienne maisonneuve #jacques laviolette #au #ficlet #3 sentence fic meme thing #amnesia au

[internaljiujitsu]

Quarantine Coupling: Captive Cohabitation During A Pandemic

I lived alone last year. After divorcing, I got myself the nicest apartment I could and tried to make the most of my freedom. As it turns out, bachelor pads can be petri dishes for the type of depression that makes you want to jump from your thirteenth floor balcony. When my lease ended, I knew I shouldn’t be on my own — I needed to be around other people. I started splitting time between my girlfriend’s apartment and my sister’s house in Long Island. While sis was incredibly welcoming, it wasn’t an ideal situation. Gradually, the time I’d spend at my lady’s place in Forest Hills increased. Soon, I had pretty much moved in without really having a conversation about it.

By the start of the new year, we were officially shacking up. Our schedules meant we’d spend an hour or two together in the morning and then wouldn’t see each other again until nine or ten at night. We got along amazingly well. I think we both figured it had a lot to do with the limited face to face time.

Then came the quarantine. She was lucky enough to keep doing her job from home. Her workload actually increased. I could no longer teach jiu jitsu classes, but I had more time to write than before. After our morning pow wow, we’d split off to separate laptops and tap away all day. Breaks were for meals and working out. We had tightened up our eating habits before the quarantine and the changes stuck, so there wasn’t really any pigging out. We did our own thing, got together frequently for chats, hugs or gratuitous groping, then hunkered back down for some productivity. When 9pm rolled around, the time we’d normally be meeting back at home, we’d sit on the couch for some dumb TV.

It took a month for our first “fight.” I wouldn’t even call it that, because although the opportunity was there for it to escalate, it never did. Instead, we used it to analyze our own feelings and reactions. This would prove invaluable in the coming weeks, as her job became more stressful and I was exposed to a side of her I had never seen: Producer lady.

Producer lady can’t stand when people fuck up. She expects everyone to do their job and lets the world know when she thinks someone or something is dumb. She huffs and puffs a lot, and she sighs all day long. It makes for a pretty tense environment. If you let it.

There was a time not long ago that the tension would have been too much for me. I would have felt like I was being dragged out of my peaceful state by an enemy insistent on ruining my day. I’d begin to feel my partner’s anxiety, then resent her pulling me into it while hating myself for not being able to alleviate her pain. It would have lead to explosive anger and a compulsion to flee. Not so today. Disconnecting my own self image from her behavior helped me recognize her needs. The message would have gone over my head if I was bobbing and weaving the whole time.

But I also got tested in another way that I’m grateful for. When I offered ways to help relieve some of her stress, she bit back at me defensively. I was taken aback the first time it happened, then made a mental note the second time. But I didn’t react outwardly. Instead I examined the events surrounding the reaction and thought about each of our roles in the event as I perceived it, versus how she probably did. She did the same and apologized for her reaction. Then I realized she reminded me of someone. She was reacting exactly how I used to.

The pause I have learned to take before reacting to non emergencies gave me time to understand that she was being defensive when I offered advice because it made her feel inadequate or less in control. I knew because it was how I felt when I’d react the same in the past. I could recognize myself clearly.

At once, I felt regret for the way the old me had communicated and compassion for those at the receiving end. I thought about all the times I lost my temper and couldn’t really hear what was going on. Now, without being blinded by my own emotions, I could see that her behavior wasn’t about me at all — just as me offering to help her wasn’t because I didn’t think she could do it on her own, but because I wanted to make it easier on her. We were experiencing the same event differently, labeling each other the enemy in a preemptive strike to defend our own self-worth.

I the past, I felt so much pressure to do things on my own — to prove that I was self-sufficient — that someone reaching out to help became confirmation of my inadequacy. Despite countless hours of therapy, self exploration and couples counseling, my instant reaction time made it impossible to hear what past partners were saying beyond words — my preferred method of communication.

When you teach large groups of people, their are always a wide variety of learning styles that work best for specific students. The inability of a person to comprehend one interpretation of a technique does not ensure that they’ll never grasp the move. We don’t give up on a student. We retool our method of teaching so that we can reach each one of the students within our earshot.

Not acknowledging differences in personal styles of communication will sink relationships that seem perfect on paper. Two amazing people can keep missing each other as they misinterpret words and actions based on their own trauma and insecurity. The miscommunication leads to vitriolic exchanges that slowly trickle resentment into the mix. It builds up, hardening the arteries of your relationship. Things stop flowing. As my sensei used to say, “Stale water starts to stink.” Pretty soon, you’ve both gotta hold your nose to be in the same room.

We don’t get taught how to be in healthy relationships. Even if we do have a “successful” couple we can model ourselves after, often it seems as if the secret is compromise, indifference or loss of identity. Those who thrive and continue to grow, both as individuals and together, must be able to separate themselves from the reactions of their partners. The point of any relationship is to learn about yourself. You can only do that if you are reacting to what’s happening, and not what has already happened. Yes, loving someone feels great and there are tons of perks to being in a good relationship, but if you don’t discover truths about yourself in the process, it’s kind of meaningless.

Being together all the time during this global pandemic has been a sort of trial by fire. We knew we were gonna find out a lot about each other really fast. Did we really like each other? How long before we’re getting on each other’s nerves? Are we gonna have all these annoying habits that drive the other person nuts? It’s turned out to be a valuable and practical exercise to test all the theories I’ve learned, tools I’ve attained and skills I’ve cultivated over the last two decades. A passion for understanding myself has led to greater curiosity about the people I interact with and why they behave the way they do. With a captive audience of one to work with in the age of social distancing, my relationship has become a graduate level case study for me. In a good way.

There’s nothing sterile about my technical approach to coupling. It may seem as if it’s less emotionally driven, but it’s actually solely based on reading emotion for what it really is. In this way, it’s the most deep way in which one can affirm the feelings of the other person — allowing their expression while simultaneously avoiding the detrimental changes in one’s own physiology associated with elevated stress levels. You can’t think clearly when you’re angry. Trained fighters know this well. In order to understand the true intentions of the person across from you, you have to be relaxed enough to listen.

All anyone wants is to be heard, and this is what this technical approach allows for. Most people are more interested in talking about themselves than about other people. When every conversation is teaching you about you, you’re always interested. You don’t have to fake it. You genuinely want to understand the other person’s feelings because it will get you that much closer to knowing who you are and why you feel the way you do. Now is the perfect time. Dive deep into your quarantine relationships. Romantic or not, family, friends or roommates, take this opportunity to learn about yourself and each other by being mindful of your own reactions and forgiving of theirs. You’ll probably never get this chance again.

#quarantine #relationships #dating #covidー19 #awareness #mindfulness #communication #mindset #compassion #growth #personaldevelopment #mind #internaljiujitsu

[clotpolesonly]

The Hazards Of Cohabitation

for @stacksonweek​’s day 3 prompt: Roommates! this has been sitting in my WIPs folder half-written for an ungodly long time, but i finally kicked my ass in gear to finish it, so here it is! XD

(also on AO3)

Stackson | 2.8k | Gen | Roommates | Jealousy | Getting Together

Stiles was not the type of person to forget to set his alarm in the morning. He was very conscious of his early classes and the likelihood of missing them due to his love of sleeping in as much as humanly possible, so he took thorough precautions to prevent that eventuality. He could count on one hand the number of times he had forgotten to set his alarm in the entirety of his college career thus far.

Stiles was, however, the type of person to forget to turn his alarm off on days when it was not needed, hence the incessant beeping in his ear at 8:20 a.m. on a Saturday morning.

It could’ve been worse. He’d had an 8 a.m. class the previous semester that had had him waking up before dawn to make the commute from his shared apartment to campus. He also could’ve been a lot drunker last night than he had been, so really he was getting off lightly.

He’d still been decently drunk, though, and his hangover meant that it took him a solid minute and a half to make the beeping stop—he did not throw his phone off on the floor and have to go crawling after it this time, at least—and by then he was guaranteed incapable of getting back to sleep. That was a damn shame but also something he was used to on these unfortunately common early morning awakenings.

This was usually the time when he decided to be a good roommate and make enough breakfast for everyone. His friends were always much more accommodating of the grumpy moods that stuck with him well into the afternoon when they got bacon out of the deal.

Stiles dragged himself out of bed with a long groan, stretching out sore muscles and popping joints that had no right making noises like that when he was barely twenty-one, and shuffled his way out of his room. All the other doors in the short hallway were closed, so Scott and Jackson were guaranteed to still be asleep. Derek was a morning person, probably already awake and working out or something gross like that, but he rarely emerged before ten, and Danny was a wildcard, just as liable to sleep past noon as he was to still be awake from last night.

Stiles left them all alone. They’d start creeping out once they smelled coffee and bacon, probably just as hungover as he was. The club had been packed last night, full of students blowing off steam after midterms before they all had to dive back into the second half of the semester. The five of them had started out the night together, taking shots and bitching about everything they could think of, but they’d splintered off before too long.

Stiles had ended up dancing on at least one table, but he hadn’t been the only one up there. Well, he was pretty sure he hadn’t been the only one. Everything was a little fuzzy after the Jäger shots, and really fuzzy after the tequila.

It had been a good time though. It had been a while since all of them had been out as a group, busy with school and jobs and whatnot. Scott’s pre-med track was notoriously heavy, and Jackson’s pre-law wasn’t any better. They’d both had so many projects to work on in the last few weeks, Stiles had barely even seen either of them off campus. He was pretty sure he’d glimpsed Jackson pow-wowing with his project partner between classes more than anywhere else, despite literally sharing a living space with him.

Maybe they’d have more time to spend together now.

All of them, not just he and Jackson, obviously. It wasn’t like Stiles was missing Jackson’s biting wit in particular or anything, just the general camaraderie of his friends as a unit. Which happened to include Jackson. Last night had been fun with all of them there together to contribute to the convivial atmosphere and, if Stiles was remembering correctly, Jackson had actually been the one to stick with him the longest before the table-dancing had started because he was secretly a good bud like that.

Of course, if he were truly a good friend, he would’ve stopped Stiles from dancing on the table. Even just limping his way down the hall, his muscles were letting him know just how bad an idea that had been. Stiles yawned hard and stretched again, swallowing down a pathetic whine and vowing for the thousandth time to never get drunk again.

He reached the living room and closed his eyes preemptively as he flipped on the light, knowing his poor headache would not appreciate the increased brightness.

A plaintive groan sounded, but it wasn’t his. Stiles cracked his eyes back open, squinting around until they landed on the couch. The couch that was currently occupied by a shirtless dude who definitely wasn’t one of the dudes who actually lived in this apartment.

He had to have been somebody’s hookup from last night. Usually they all kept their one night stands confined to their own bedrooms, but they’d all been a little messy drunk so this wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. The real question was whose hookup it had been, because none of them were above picking up a random guy at a club when drunk and bringing him back to the apartment they shared with four other people.

It didn’t help that they all had roughly the same taste in men. The guy on the couch was blond and tan and muscular. Any one of them would’ve gone for that in a heartbeat! The guy groaned again and rolled over, blinking blearily up at the ceiling. He had sort of a too-small face for his head, but he had the kind of abs that totally made up for it. He also looked sort of...familiar.

Shit, had he been Stiles’ hookup?

No. No! He hadn’t been that drunk. He would totally remember if he’d brought somebody home with him and gotten laid. Abs like that would’ve made an impression even on a drunk Stiles, and besides, he wasn’t the type to kick his lays out of bed before the morning. Stiles liked his post-coital cuddles.

Still, he’d definitely seen this guy before. And not just at the club last night. He was totally a student, but not from any of Stiles’ classes because he wasn’t that familiar, just vaguely so.

Stiles felt like there might be smoke coming out of his ears from the gears in his brain struggling to turn this early. He was always a little slow in the morning, and the hangover wasn’t helping. Maybe he should wait until after coffee and breakfast to do this much thinking. Surely the guy would go back to sleep and—

Nope. The guy was sitting up, rubbing at his head and peering up at Stiles. Then it seemed to occur to him where he was and who he was looking at—namely, one of the people who actually lived here. He gave him an awkward smile and a wave and there! Stiles had totally seen that awkward-smile-and-wave combo before, outside the pre-law building where Jackson had most of his classes, because this was that project partner that had been taking up all of Jackson’s time lately.

Jeez, Jackson didn’t pussyfoot around, did he? They’d had their presentation like a day and a half ago! He must’ve been waiting with bated breath for their project to be over so he could screw this guy without risk to his grade. That was just… It was tacky, is what it was. Or something like that. At least, it felt tacky to Stiles.

He must’ve been making some kind of face because the awkward smile on project partner’s face slipped off slowly and the waving hand fell.

“Morning?” the guy tried.

Stiles grunted and finally made his way to the kitchen, only half blocked off from the living room proper by a breakfast bar. Sadly that meant there was no real barrier to deter further attempts at conversation. As Stiles fiddled aggressively with the coffeemaker, he could hear rustling and yawning at his back as the guy—what had Jackson said his name was, Aiden?—accepted his awakeness. It sounded like he was looking for his shirt, but Stiles refused to turn around and look.

Aiden wasn’t even that hot, certainly not hot enough for Jackson to be so quick on the draw with him. It usually took a lot to catch Jackson’s eye. He’d been the only one last night not lured away by some twink looking to dance within half an hour, after all, but maybe that was just because he’d already had someone lined up.

Stiles poured out the first cup of coffee with gratitude that was quickly overtaken by sheer, irrational irritation when Aiden rounded the breakfast bar saying, “Ooh, smells good. Can I have a shot of that?”

Stiles clutched his mug against his chest and gave Aiden the dirtiest look he could possibly muster up before actually ingesting the aforementioned coffee. Apparently Aiden wasn’t just a decent face and great abs, because he was smart enough to hold his hands up in surrender and slowly back away.

Stiles downed as much of his hot coffee as he could manage, slammed the mug down on the counter, and set about making breakfast as if the intruder wasn’t there. Maybe if he just ignored the guy long enough, he would pack up and leave. He and Jackson couldn’t be that involved, after all, if Aiden had ended up on the couch instead of staying to cuddle. Hopefully this was just a fling and he would want to avoid any morning-after awkwardness by leaving before Jackson got up.

Stiles’ hopes were dashed when Aiden started opening cabinet doors, one after the other, peering into each one and rummaging through all their shit.

“Dude,” Stiles said, distracted from his bacon-prep. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Looking for the protein bars,” Aiden told him absently, already reaching for the next door. “Know there’s some in here. He said I could help myself last time.”

Last time.

Stiles slammed the frying pan onto the burner with a clang that probably woke up any of his roommates that had still been sleeping. He ground out, “Bottom left,” and turned the temperature knob with far more force than was necessary.

If Aiden noticed, he was wise enough not to comment. He just retrieved the box of the gross protein bars that only Jackson and Danny could stomach—seriously, even Derek wouldn’t touch them, and he was usually all about that health and fitness stuff—and helped himself. Because Jackson had told him he could. Last time.

As always, the smell of cooking bacon was enough to start dragging the others out of their bedrooms. Derek was first, sweaty and satisfied from his morning workout. Scott followed him with a huge yawn and the worst case of bedhead Stiles had ever seen. Neither of them paid Aiden any attention, Scott because he still had his eyes closed and Derek because he really just didn’t care; he might be a morning person, technically, but he was never particularly sociable no matter what time of day it was.

Stiles was so focused on not noticing Aiden and stubbornly pretending he didn’t exist that he really didn’t notice him trying to sneak around him toward the coffee. In Stiles’ startle, the hot pan full of sizzling bacon almost rerouted from the waiting plate to the kitchen floor. Stiles saved it, just barely, which was a minor miracle on its own. He was left cursing up a storm while Aiden sputtered apologies, Derek sniggered like a traitor, and Scott blinked bemusedly at them like he was just now realizing there were already people in the room.

“What is going on out here?”

Jackson appeared around the corner from the hallway, scratching at bedhead of his own but clearly more awake than Scott.

Stiles threw the now empty pan back onto the stove and jabbed a finger in Aiden’s direction. “Jackson, would you ever so kindly retrieve your boyfriend before he burns down my fucking kitchen?”

There was a long, awkward moment filled only with Stiles aggressively fishing a new frying pan out of the drawer under the stove and the eggs out of the fridge. Then Scott made a questioning noise.

“Boyfriend?” he asked around a yawn. “When did Jackson get a boyfriend?”

“He didn’t,” Jackson said, looking and sounding utterly confused.

“Your hookup, then,” Stiles amended, trying and failing to keep the disdain out of his voice. He cracked a few eggs into the pan too hard and had to fish out little pieces of broken egg. “Whatever, man. Just get him out of here before I have to stab him with a filet knife. He’s in my way.”

“I’m not his hookup either,” Aiden offered up, though he seemed to regret drawing attention to himself after the glare Stiles sent him. “Well, I’m not!”

Stiles glared even harder. “Then why the fuck are you even here?”

“Dude, he’s my hookup.”

Danny ambled into the kitchen, brushing past everybody else to give Aiden a quick kiss and pour himself a cup of coffee. Aiden stole it out of his hand, leaning in to kiss the pout off of Danny’s face. Danny just rolled his eyes and poured himself another.

Stiles stared at them, lost. “Wait. You’re dating Jackson’s project partner? When did that happen?”

Aiden groaned, whacking Danny in the stomach when he snorted into his coffee. “I’m not his partner,” he said. “That’s my brother.”

“Twin brother,” Danny added, gaze going distant and wistful for a second.

“Straight brother. I’m the gay one, remember?”

Danny kissed him again before sliding back around the breakfast bar. “Yes, Ethan, trust me, I am very aware. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got coding to finish.”

“Need any help?” Aiden—no, Ethan, the gay twin because apparently there were twins involved now—asked, clearly euphemistically. When Danny didn’t answer beyond a long look thrown over his shoulder, Ethan laughed and invited himself along anyway, disappearing down the hallway in Danny’s wake.

Scott moaned, head in his hands. “I am so confused.”

“Me too,” Stiles said.

“Your eggs are burning,” Derek put in helpfully.

Stiles cursed, scrambling to get the eggs off the stove before the smoke alarm went off. By the time breakfast had been salvaged, at least enough for Scott to be willing to eat it in his half-conscious state, Derek had swiped the entire plate of bacon and retreated to his room and Scott was snoring quietly into the formica counter top. Only Jackson was still there, leaning up against the wall and watching Stiles with pursed lips.

“What?” Stiles asked, peevish.

“Were you jealous?”

Stiles’ instinctive flail meant that he bumped an elbow into one of the still-hot pans. He yelped—how Scott slept through that, he would never know—and his sputtered denials were mostly ignored as Jackson rounded the bar to turn the stove off with an exasperated sigh. He did not repeat his question, but then again, he didn’t need to. His raised eyebrow was enough all on its own.

“Okay, yeah, maybe I was,” Stiles snapped, still rubbing his stinging elbow. “You wanna make something of it?”

“Maybe.”

Stiles stopped halfway through attempting to stick his elbow under the kitchen faucet. “Wait, what? Really? Like…good something or bad something?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Jackson said, very matter-of-factly. “Now do you want to date me or not?”

It took a second for Stiles to catch up with the question, still far too hungover to make sense of the major emotional switcheroo that had just been pulled on him before 9 a.m. on a Saturday. But once he had, the “yes” fell out of his mouth without a second of hesitation.

“Good,” Jackson said, his smile only a little bit smug by his standard. Then he dragged Stiles away from the sink and kissed him, just like that, easy and smooth. “Now make me some bacon.”

Stiles stared after him as he sauntered off into the living room to collapse on the couch. “Oh wow, okay, is that how it’s gonna be? Whatever happened to the honeymoon phase?”

“It goes best with bacon,” Jackson called back.

For a minute, Stiles contemplated snarking back at him or telling him to make his own bacon, but for once, he couldn’t think of anything beyond the fluttery feeling in his chest and the tingle in his lips. He was pretty sure he was grinning like an idiot.

Scott blinked up at him, having rejoined the land of the conscious once more, for however long it would last. “Wait,” he said slowly. “Weren’t you just mad? What are you so happy about?”

“Jackson’s got a new boyfriend,” Stiles said, ripping open a new package of bacon. “And I’m pretty sure it’s me.”

#stacksonweek2019 #Stackson #Jackson Whittemore #Stiles Stilinski #Teen Wolf #fics by me