#is there a way to get drunk and NOT think about Mac’s cock..

[charmac]

[gimmethatagustd]

wanna fuck on camera | kth

You’re so tired of Kim Taehyung’s hipster, wannabe-photographer ass. You’re so tired of Kim Taehyung’s stupid smile and stupid jokes and stupid way of getting under your skin and sticking in your brain.

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Genre/Trope: Frenemies to lovers, smut, humor probably

Word Count: 3,360

Content Warning: Vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, Taehyung is annoying, I guess that's it honestly pls idk

A/N: The way this fic turned into a mini-series needs to be studied. I literally cannot reread it without cringing jhsdkfs.

Soundtrack: Camera - DJ Drama, 1st FKI, Post Malone, Lil Uzi Vert, Mac Miller

the wannabe-photographer chronicles: part one

If Kim Taehyung placed his grimy hands on the small of your back one more time you were quite literally going to rip them off. 

“Babe, we didn’t take a picture together yet.” Before you could react, there was a bright flash of light that formed black holes in your vision. A sleek film camera was the culprit. Not unfamiliar, you’d fallen victim to Taehyung’s “artistic endeavors” on more than one occasion. 

“Babe?” 

Your spotty eyes grew wide as you quickly turned back to the large man stuck in between you and Taehyung. You’d caged him into the corner of the living room away from the rest of the bustling bodies crowding the apartment you shared with Hoseok. From the moment your roommate introduced you to Namjoon at the start of the party, you were on a mission to get a good grip of his head in between your thighs. 

“No, no, no,” you shook your head, waving your arms in an “X” to ward off Taehyung’s evil. “We are not like that, at all. Gross, no. I don’t even know why he’s over here.” You hissed that last part with gritted teeth and shoved an elbow into Taehyung’s ribs. 

“We came to this party together, babe. What are you talking about?” Taehyung’s mouth morphed into a deep pout. Your’s, on the other hand, hung open like a fish. 

“Excuse me? This is my fucking apartment!”

You watched with growing frustration as Taehyung’s pout curved into a sweet smile. He was an abscess aching your teeth.  “Babe, you’re so cute when you joke around.” 

“Ummm… I think I’m going to go.” 

You both turned to look at the large man stuck in between you. He avoided both of your gazes; instead, his gentle eyes searched the depths of the room, looking for a way out. 

“Namjoon, wait,” You reached out to grab his forearm, “Just ignore him, he’s an idiot.” 

Namjoon gave you a soft, tight smile. “It’s okay, I don’t want to bother you.” He didn’t give you a second glance once he disappeared deeper into the apartment. 

You spun around on your heel and jabbed your finger against Taehyung’s chest. “Listen here, TaTa. If you don’t stop cockblocking me all fucking night, I swear to God.” 

“You swear to God what? What are you going to do?” Taehyung cocked his head to one side and you hated how hot it was to watch his bottom lip disappear between his teeth. He raised his eyebrows at you, tilting his head back a bit so he looked at you down the sharp bridge of his cute little freckled nose. 

He knew you wouldn’t do anything. There was nothing for you to do. 

He was such a piece of shit. 

“Why did Hobi invite you,” you muttered, pushing past Taehyung. You made very little ground before he was snatching your wrist in his large hands. “Can you please leave me alone? I’m not drunk enough for your shit right now.” 

“Let me get my beautiful model a drink, then.” 

“You are the most arrogant, conceited, cockiest person I have ever met in my entire life.” The grin that bloomed across his face was the exact opposite of what you wanted to see, but everything your body was being pulled towards. 

“Thank you.” 

With a huff, you shook your hand from Taehyung’s grip and continued swimming your way through the sea of people trashing your apartment. Leave it to Hobi to throw a massive party to celebrate “the beginning of his birthday month” without bothering to ask you. When he knew you hated most of his friends, Kim Taehyung in particular. How he’d managed to wiggle his way into your friend group was beyond you. Probably because he was hot, and hot people could get away with everything. 

Well, you didn’t think he was hot, obviously. Other people did. Not you. Nope. 

“Do not follow me.” You threw the command over your shoulder, praying to the lord that he would grow a brain and listen to you. Breaking free of the last throng of people, you walked the hallway until you got to your bedroom, Taehyung hot on your heels. You tried to slam your bedroom door shut but Taehyung had the toe of his boot wedged in the doorframe. He wrapped a hand around the edge of the door and pried it open just enough to slip his lithe body inside. The click of him locking the door made your spine shudder. 

“You’re so fucking stupid, Kim. Why don’t you go find someone to suck your dick and keep your nose out of my business? I’ll even let you use my bathroom.” Arms crossed against your chest. Chin jutted out. 

Taehyung snickered, keeping his focus on wiping away a smudge mark on the surface of his camera lens. “Bothering you gives me infinite more pleasure, believe it or not.” He looked up to meet your gaze. “And you know how much I love chasing pleasure.” 

By this point your anger was hardly well-contained. As you flipped through every scenario in your head you were finding fewer options to get him out of here. Murder may have been the only option, actually. 

“God I love how hot you look when you’re pissed.” Taehyung had the audacity to sit down on the edge of your bed, his long legs spreading like the space-hogging man that he was. 

“Take a fucking picture then. It’ll last longer.” 

“Ooh, you’re so clever, so edgy.” Despite his taunts, he did what you said, quickly snapping another picture of you. You flipped him off. “Glad you’ve finally agreed to model for me. How do you feel about nudes?” 

“Get the fuck out of here.” 

“Not even just a topless one?” 

“I would never, in a million years, even if my life depended on it, get any amount of naked in front of you.” 

“That sounds like a fun challenge, doesn’t it?” He got up from your bed, leaving the camera to rest on your fluffy comforter. His amber eyes dropped to watch your lips, the edges of his own lips curling slightly when you backed up against your dresser. A bottle of hair product tipped over and rolled off the dresser, thudding against the floor. 

“It’s not a challenge, Taehyung. It’s merely a fact.” 

“Look at what you’re wearing. You’re already halfway there.” Taehyung shrugged. He ran his index finger along the skin of your midriff exposed by your crop top. Reaching your belly button, he dragged his finger downwards until he landed on the zipper of your shorts. “Don’t act like you’re not desperate. The way you were hanging all over that guy said enough.” 

“Fuck off,” you said in an exhale. You made no effort to push him out of the way; this was one of many mistakes. 

“Hmm…” You practically felt the baritone vibration of Taehyung contemplating your comment, the hum rumbling from his throat. “Okay.” He took a step back and sunk onto your bed with his camera resting beside him. 

“What do you mean, okay?” You closed the gap he’d created and stared down at him with your hands on your hips. “You can’t just say okay.” 

The tiniest of smirks lifted the corner of Taehyung’s mouth, but he held it in as best he could. Controlling his eyes was another thing; he let his gaze travel the length of your body. “Am I not giving you what you wanted?” 

“Well, yes.” 

“Then what’s the problem?” 

You opened your mouth, but immediately snapped it shut. Taehyung leaned back on his palms with his broad chest on display and his legs spread. How had you ended up standing between them? He tilted his head up slightly jutting his chin out at you while his eyes continued to examine you. Dissect you. His gaze felt razor sharp on your searing skin. 

“Just admit it. You want me. It’s obvious how I affect you.” You felt your stomach flip as Taehyung ran his fingers through his hair, though a few curls decided to bounce back over his forehead. “One simple kiss and you’d be begging for me.” 

You absolutely did not want him. Had you thought about what those piercing eyes would look like from between your thighs? Maybe. But who hadn’t?! It was a natural consequence of being “friends” with Taehyung.

“You’re an idiot.” Another glare was shot his way when the stupid smirk returned. 

“Prove it then. Prove you don’t care.” 

If there was anything you hated more than this idiot, it was being doubted. Fuck this guy for wasting your time, invading your space, and then insulting you in your own house. 

“If you tell anyone about this I’ll cut your balls off,” you hissed. 

“I’m so scared,” Taehyung said with a lick of his lips. You wanted to smack that mischievous glint out of his eyes. Hell, you should have. But instead you were determined to knock him off his high horse. If you weren’t going to get into a physical altercation, you were going to fuck up his ego. 

Shoving Taehyung backwards so he was once again leaning on his palms, you climbed into his lap with your hands gripping his shoulders. Before he could say anything else stupid, you brought your lips to his and tried not think about how many things had been in his mouth. 

It was clear that Taehyung was trying to prove a point because he immediately began to devour you. His hands flew up to grip your ass to pull you tight against him, making your hands slide forward so you now had your arms wrapped around his shoulders. Biting down on your bottom lip he coaxed your mouth open to slip his tongue inside. You shivered at the taste of him, sweet like the grapefruit soju he’d been drinking. Distracted by him licking at your mouth, you gasped when you felt Taehyung buck into you. He forced your hips to rock against him and spread your thighs even further apart as you straddled him. 

Eventually Taehyung broke the kiss and you welcomed the opportunity to breathe. His lips ghosted yours, the two of you panting heavily against each other’s mouths. He kept a firm hold of your ass while he guided you to continue grinding against the growing bulge in his jeans. Every drag of his zipper against your core provided enough friction to alert you that you were soaked through your underwear. All because of a guy you’d swore you weren’t affected by. 

The reminder of why this was even fucking happening made you let go of Taehyung’s shoulders and lean back slightly. What the fuck. 

“You did that way too eagerly,” he snickered once you pulled away.

“Shut up.” You reached up and grabbed a handful of his hair to tug it out of annoyance because apparently Taehyung tore down your maturity level to that of an elementary student. The moan that came out of his mouth made you freeze. He stared into your eyes with his soft lips parted and all you could hear was his erratic breathing and the pounding of your heart in your head. “Looks like you’re affected by me.”

As if you weren’t an absolute mess in your pants right now. But he didn’t need to know that. 

“I never said I wasn’t.” The intensity of his gaze was too much for you, but looking away felt like surrendering. “Are you going to admit defeat now?” 

“You’re insane,” you scoffed, determined to hold his gaze. 

Taehyung broke first. He let go of your waist and brought his hand forward to press his thumb hard against your clit through your shorts. You instinctively tightened your hold on his hair, tugging slightly. The action pulled another moan out of Taehyung and it was impossible for you to hide the way you grinded against his hand. 

“You want me. Just admit it.” 

“No,” you snapped. Taehyung raised his eyebrows as though he was shocked by your determination. You were not giving in, no matter what your body wanted. 

Even if he pulled down the zipper of your shorts. Even if he tugged on the waistband of your underwear. Even if he squeezed his hand inside your underwear to drag his fingers through your arousal. 

“Admit it.” 

Your breath hitched when you heard the wet squelch of Taehyung teasing your entrance and rolling his fingers against your clit. You couldn’t speak for fear a moan instead of words might fall out of your mouth, so you merely shook your head. 

Wrapping his other arm around your waist, Taehyung bucked into you at the same time he slipped two fingers inside of you. The force with which you bit your bottom lip to keep quiet was enough to shoot pain through your nerves. Seeing you like that and feeling your thighs tremble against his told Taehyung everything he needed to know. 

But he wanted you to say it. 

“Come on, Y/N,” he cooed a soft whisper in your ear. He curled his fingers, pressing your front wall until he found the spot that made you dig your nails into his biceps. “Just admit it and I’ll give you what you want.” 

He quickened his pace, pumping his fingers in and out of you with enough force to rock you back and forth in his lap, all the while his dark eyes locked on yours. 

“You’re a piece of shit,” you attempted to hiss but your voice broke into a loud whimper. Taehyung grinned and gave you one final thrust into your g-spot before he watched you arch into him, eyes closed and head thrown back as you moaned his name. He leaned back slightly to give him the perfect angle to snatch up his camera. You thought the bright light was probably the most intense orgasm you’ve ever felt in your life quite literally making you blind, but your pleasure quickly turned into a pterodactyl screech. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG WHAT THE FUCK!” You lunged for the camera, but he held it above your head and your legs were still too shaky to do much of anything. “Did you just fucking take a picture of me while I… while I…” You beat against his chest. 

“You looked too good not to immortalize the moment,” Satan himself said with a laugh, absorbing your punches with the cockiness of the most horrible person in the world. “If you want to try for a better shot, I still have five photos left on this film.” 

“I’m going to fucking murder you.” 

“Sure, you can murder me. I’ll die happy now.” You felt weak in the knees once again when Taehyung popped his fingers, wet with your cum, into his mouth to suck clean. “Or you could admit that you want me and I’ll split you open the way you deserve.” 

Fuck. 

You were in big trouble. 

Taehyung’s cocky grin disappeared as you eased back down into his lap, replaced with a look of determined lust that clouded his lidded eyes. At this point, it wasn’t about admitting that he turned you on or that you wanted him. At this point, you needed him. 

“Say it and I’m yours,” he whispered. Goosebumps bloomed across your skin as he ran his hands up your sides, pushing your crop top up as he went. You lifted your arms to allow him to pull it off of you. He sucked his teeth when he realized you weren’t wearing a bra and immediately brought his mouth to your nipple. You let out a soft moan when Taehyung flicked his tongue against it, swirling a circle until it was erect and he was satisfied enough to move to the other. 

“Fuck you, Taehyung.” You clawed at his t-shirt, less gentle in your approach as you ripped it over his head. Next your fingers flew to unbutton his jeans. “I admit it, okay? Are you happy now?” Frustration made your movements frantic and you tugged Taehyung’s pants down as hard as you could, barely giving him time to maneuver around you to lift his hips. 

“Admit what?” He planted a hot kiss against your throat to muffle the deep moan that rumbled in his throat when you finally held his cock in your hand. 

“I need you, fuck!” You shimmied out of your shorts and shoved Taehyung onto his back. “Why are you such a fucking dick?” 

You grabbed his cock a bit too aggressively and Taehyung briefly watched his life flash before his eyes. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed you so hard. Though he quickly got over it, hips bucking into your hand while he watched you spit on the tip and let it run down his shaft, slow and sweet. 

“Took you long enou-” Taehyung gasped when you rubbed his cock along your pussy, quickly coating him so you could sink onto his cock until your clit rubbed against his abdomen when you leaned forward. The stretch was enough that you probably should have eased yourself onto him a bit slower to avoid the head of his cock piercing your cervix the way it had, but at this point you were too pissed off to give a shit. He lifted his head to watch you roll your hips on him, the twisting sensation making his cock pulse inside you. 

“Holy fuck.” Taehyung dropped his head back onto the mattress and dug his fingers into the sheets as you began to fuck yourself on him. Sure, he’d promised to fuck you good, but you had absolutely no patience for whatever he was willing to give you. You picked up the pace, one hand squeezing his shoulder for support while the other dragged your nails down the length of his chest. You may have dug into him a bit deeper than you needed to, but the red streaks you left on his skin were more than satisfying. 

“Don’t even think about taking a picture of this,” you muttered through clenched teeth. That sweet, hot buildup of pleasure rippling through your abdomen was starting to get more and more unbearable, but you needed to know that the little creep wasn’t going to ruin a good orgasm for you by playing paparazzi again. 

Taehyung whimpered, shaking his head frantically. “I swear, oh fuck. I s-swear I won’t.” 

His babbling was both pathetic and cute, and you prayed he didn’t bust a nut before you got to. To have Kim Taehyung writhing beneath you with that tight little waist and bulging biceps, all to have him cum first?? No fucking way. 

“Good boy,” you snickered and Taehyung practically lost it right there. 

“You’re insane,” he huffed, closing his eyes once he felt you tighten around him. “Fucking insane.” 

You wanted to bitch him out some more because you definitely weren’t the insane one here, as if he hadn’t toyed with you only to immediately give in once you gave him a taste of his own medicine. But you let it go as you felt that sweet buildup in you finally snap. “Fuck, Taehyung,” you moaned, feeling his hands come up to grab your waist to guide you on top of him as he fucked you through your orgasm and your movements began to falter. Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to finally reach his release; you weren’t interested in overstimulation after the sweaty, horny mess he’d made of you. 

Leaning your forehead into his shoulder, you let your body go limp on top of Taehyung as the two of you caught your breath. 

“Don’t fuck with me anymore,” you threatened, though the post-orgasm shakiness of your voice didn’t make you sound very convincing. 

“I can fuck you again, though, right?” 

You lifted your head to see that fucking grin again and groaned, dropping your face into his neck again. “Maybe.” 

“Are you down for nudes next time?” 

“Don’t fucking push your luck, dickhead.” Your body jiggled as Taehyung laughed. There was the cocky Taehyung once again, the one you oh so loved. Something told you if there was a next time you wouldn’t have it so easy. 

[sweetbillwriting]

Only The Road Ahead

Chapter 1

Description: With many obstacles against him, Eddie Barrish has found himself fighting hard to get his life together and be a good father, but bad decisions and lies will always come for you, even if you look forward.

Character: AU Eddie Barrish, played by Bill Skarsgård in the movie Locked (2025). His daughter, Sarah, also has a part in the story.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

Notes: New story! This one will also be a long one. Like many others, I fell in love with Eddie, and I hope I do him justice. It has heavy themes and isn't a story for everyone.

“Of course I want to get shitfaced!” Eddie laughed loudly with his phone pressed against his ear. He walked around in only his boxers. Tight, purple ones with an elastic in neon yellow. His skin was golden from hours under the sun on his building's roof, and silly tattoos dotted his skin. He dragged a big, tattooed hand through his bleached hair while laughing with his friend Damian and scratched his scalp lightly, itchy from some days of grease.

“No, no, it will not be any problem. I got a paycheck a few days ago, so it will not be a problem… I think I can even buy you a drink. A cheap drink,” he joked while opening the fridge. It was painfully empty even if he got 400 dollars on his account just two days ago. Having things in his fridge was never a priority; it was just when his daughter was there he would have bread, peanut butter, and jelly at home, but she hadn't been there for a few weeks. It was what he could cook. He took out a bottle of water and a box of cereal from the cabinet and ate them dry right out of the package. 

“Ehh… Can't we be at your place?” Eddie looked around in his apartment. You may believe his apartment was too messy, too dirty, or too small to take guests, but no, he wasn't that sort of guy. His apartment was small, but it was tidy and clean from stuff. He was not a collector, not a person who liked things lying around, especially not when his daughter was there. He liked it clean and simple; he just didn't want the guys to mess it up. 

“I haven't cleaned for weeks; it looks like fuck here. Yeah, literally!” He laughed and corrected his cock in his boxers. He sighed and dragged his hand over his face, unbothered that he just had it down by his unshaven balls. 

“Nice, man. Awesome. I'll buy you a Big Mac or something!” 

When Eddie had hung up, he sat down on his dark blue couch and shook out the round cereal flakes down into his mouth skillfully and flushed them down with the water. He needed to go out a bit; he had had too many days just at home, scrolling through social media and reading depressing news articles. He needed to get drunk and maybe pop a little colorful pill just to make the night even more colorful. He stretched out on the couch. Right then and there he didn't need to stress because the clock was just one, and the only thing he needed to do before going to Damian's was to take a run, buy some beer, take a shower, and then stop by McDonald's on his way down there. He could watch a series if he still had Netflix; the payment had maybe not gone through, or he could take a nap. He moved his pillow and cover to the couch and made himself comfortable. He didn't even start Netflix before he had made up his mind. A nap sounded nice. He slept four minutes later. 

××× 

“What the fuck, I don't owe you a burger! What the fuck are you talking about?” Eddie almost screamed out through his laugh to Arif. He had just thrown a wrapped burger to Damian from the McDonald's bag which made all the other three men look at the burger in jealousy. 

“Buy your own; it's just on the corner! For fuck's sake.” Eddie rolled his eyes, but Arif smirked.

“You don't remember you owe me 50 bucks from the night at Basement?” 

Eddie looked at him with big eyes and with his plump lower lip hanging. Some of the others laughed too. Eddie looked around at them and then threw one of his three cheeseburgers hard into Arif’s chest.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” 

None of them were rich, but Eddie was the only one of them who didn't have a steady income. He lived day by day and would sometimes have less than he thought, then the next week he’d have more and act like he had won the lottery. He wasn't stupid in any way, but he could never decide what to do with his life and what fights were worthy to take. He had been fired from the auto shop because he thought it was a good idea to fight about the fact that the boss ate while they worked while the others didn't get to do that. He realized after it had not been worth the fight at all when he once again stood without a job. 

“I saw Cassidy yesterday. Cassidy Lawson! You know, from high school?” Said Damian mostly to Eddie and Kai, who had been friends since kindergarten. Arif and Ricky had become a part of their little group through Damian, who worked with them in the town’s battery industry. Kai worked with cars, just like Eddie had, but at a service point for the town’s buses. 

“Cassidy?” Eddie looked up at Damian from his bag of fries with big eyes. His eyes were always big, though, but now they were at their widest point, looking more and more like two pool balls. 

“Yeah, she's in town, doing a job for the magazine she works for. She's fine as fuck!” 

Eddie threw the bag of fries on the coffee table, glided down in the orange armchair he sat in, and took up his phone from the front pocket of his light blue jeans. Instagram. Instagram. Instagram. He looked at Instagram too much and tried to stop, but now it was important. Shit, fucking Cassidy Lawson. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Eddie could see the movement of Damian's tattooed arm before he snatched his phone from his hand. 

“Hey!” Eddie screamed back and sat up in the chair. “What the fuck are you doing, man?” 

Damian held his phone to his chest and looked at Eddie seriously. 

“I saw her first.” 

“What? What the fuck? No, you didn't! I wanted to fuck her already in high school!” 

“Me too!” 

“Fuck, you didn't! You didn't want to be close to anyone in the debate club! You just looked at cheerleaders and the slutty ones!” 

Damian looked at Eddie, annoyed at first, but then smirked.

“Sure, okay, but I saw her first now!” 

Eddie scoffed and stood up trying to take his phone from Damian, but Kai interrupted them with a loud voice. 

“Here she is! Cassidy Lawson! Journalist!” 

Eddie reacted at once, steering his eyes toward Kai, where he held up his phone with the girl in a baby blue bikini. Damian tried to stop that, but Eddie, with his long limbs, succeeded in snatching Kai's phone and looked at the girl with big eyes. She was hot. She had been cute and innocent-looking in high school, but now she looked like a beautiful, sexy woman. He clicked her profile pic decorated with a rainbow circle around it and got a loud protest from Kai, but he didn't care. The story was just from 35 minutes ago and filmed at one of the city's trendier bars—Opaline Bar. He had never been there; it was not really in his budget, but Cassidy Lawson was there. His eyes had been so wet looking at her in school. It was many times his sixteen-year-old self had become hard just by looking at her walk through the school’s hallways. 

“Opaline…” 

“We are not going there, Eddie! They will not even let us in!” Kai said and pointed to his face. The tattoo over his eyebrow saying “salty” made it hard for him to enter some places. 

“You can wait outside,” said Eddie with a smirk. “Just… please?” He said pleadingly to all of them. Arif sighed and rolled his eyes towards the other men. 

“Fine!” Said Damian. “Her friend looked hot. Let's check it out,” he said with a smirk when Eddie shined up in a dopey smile. 

××× 

Eddie and the other guys never thought it would be that easy to get an entrance to Opaline Bar. Kai didn't even need to try to cover up his tattoo. The only thing was that the entrance fee was 40 dollars, something Damian and Arif weren't prepared to pay. Kai and Ricky thought it could be an experience, though, especially when they saw the classy girls in high pumps. Walking home with such a girl would be a win. 

Eddie didn't really look at the other girls; he just scrolled through Cassidy's Instagram. She looked like that perfect girl next door and seemed intelligent with her book reviews and economical articles. She seemed to be something more than most girls around him. He put his phone in his jeans pocket when they were by the wardrobe. He didn't pull off his hoodie, though. Maybe it was smart to hide some of his etch-a-sketch looking tattoos in that environment. 

It was quite obvious to all three of them that none of them felt at home in the place before them. The walls had old-looking murals, and the furniture was all golden chrome and printed silk. Some low tables had big puffy pillows with tassels to sit on. It kind of looked like a modern harem minus the half-naked girls, to the boys disappointment. 

“I can get us something to drink… You can find a table… With chairs,” said Eddie, looking around. He was a bit affected by the beers he had been drinking at Damian's, so the 400 dollars, or now the 310 dollars he had in his account, felt like much more. 

The others were just pleased with getting a free drink and looking around at the well-dressed people and colorful drinks in their hands. 

Doubtfully Eddie placed himself in the corner of the bar. He didn't need to be loud to get attention by a bar counter because of his height, but here it was also quite empty, and a bartender with a high hair bun turned to him. 

“Ehm…” Eddie looked around at the booze and gave the drink menu next to him a fast glance before looking up at the bartender again. 

“Three beers.” 

“Sure. What kind? Ale?” 

Eddie shrugged his shoulders; he really didn't care that much. 

“Okay.” 

“Dark, light? Fruity? An IPA?” 

It wasn't like he didn't know what the bartender talked about, but he rarely could feel any difference between them. 

“You pick.” 

While the bartender poured up three beers for him, he looked for Cassidy. He couldn't see her and became a bit nervous. Had they paid so much to get in, and then she had left? 

“51 dollars,” said the bartender suddenly, and Eddie turned to him confused. At first he couldn't understand that he was talking to him. Three beers couldn't cost 51 dollars? The beer glasses standing in front of him were filled with a golden liquid reminding him more of orange juice than beer. He gave the bartender a confused look. 

“It's a NEIPA. You will like it.” The guy smirked at him like he was talking to a skeptical child, and Eddie gave him a strained smile back. He had said the bartender could pick. He paid reluctantly and took the three beers in his big hands. With long fingers it wasn't that hard to carry them all. 

His friends smirked, amused when they saw the beers, but didn't say anything. They understood Eddie had accidentally bought something pricey, and they wouldn't complain over that. Eddie also sighed loudly when he sat down, so they didn't want to ruin his mood more; he could get quite grumpy if you tried him too much. 

The beer wasn't that bad, and after having drunk half of it, Eddie finally saw Cassidy. Her black dress was short in a lacy fabric with long sleeves, while her hair was curled in that way all girls' on Instagram curled it. Eddie looked at her with big eyes while she leaned over the bar counter to make an order. 

“Isn't that your girl?” Ricky asked, and gave Eddie a look but didn't get an answer, but he could see it anyway. Eddie stared at her like she was a unicorn among brown horses. 

Eddie wasn't shy among girls, but he didn't really know how to smoothly get close. He knew he was quite good-looking; he was tall and had a charm many girls liked, but it wasn't girls like Cassidy he usually flirted with. On wobbly legs he stood up without saying anything to his friends and walked up to the bar, just a foot from her. She waited on her order, looking at the bartender mixing her drink, but she gave Eddie a fast look from the corner of her eye. He was tall; no one missed him. He looked down at her in the same discreet way, and after a few times he caught her stare and smiled playfully. Cassidy giggled and missed how her drink was placed in front of her, just to turn to look at Eddie up and down, amused. It was probably because he didn't fit in with his bright red hoodie and well-worn jeans, but maybe it was also because he was cute. He knew he was; now it was just she who should feel the same. 

“Shit, I kind of recognize you,” she said and seemed to take a closer look at his big eyes and plump lips.

“I think I recognize you too… Cassidy? Right? I think we went to school together?” He said it like he doubted it. Just when he said it, the bartender reminded her about her drink and distracted, she paid. Eddie looked down at her classic French-tipped nails and licked his lips. The bartender had destroyed his roll, and he wondered if he could continue with the same slickness. When Cassidy had paid, she took her orange cocktail in her hand and gave him a look up and down. She laughed a little.

“Oh my god! You're that guy that broke into the gym and got stuck there!” 

Eddie did a pained grimace because that story was not his brightest moment, but then he laughed with her. 

“Yeah, yeah, that was me and my buddy Damian…” 

Cassidy continued to laugh and continued to look at him up and down. Eddie couldn't read her eyes to see if she mocked him or if she actually was attracted to him, but he kept himself tall and pretended to not be bothered by her examining eyes. He was just about to ask her to sit down with him when her girlfriends started to shout at her, and Cassidy looked at him with a shoulder shrug. 

“Nice to see you, buddy,” she said before walking away to her girlfriends with a giggle. Eddie looked after her, stunned. He still didn't know if she was attracted to him and felt quite silly when he was left behind by the bar and even more so when he went back to his friends without buying anything. 

“No luck?” Kai asked while drinking Eddie's beer; he had already drunk up his own. Eddie looked towards Cassidy again and shrugged his shoulders, confused. 

××× 

After Kai and Ricky had drunk up the beers, it didn't really feel like they had so much of a reason to stay. It was too expensive to buy more drinks, and neither was the setting their kind of place. Eddie looked towards Cassidy a few times, seeing her laugh with two other women with similar style and vibe. He looked down at his tattooed hands and could see why a girl like her wouldn't give him a chance. Everyone judged the book by its cover. When they stood up, ready to go to a cheaper, more low-key place, Eddie felt a hand on his broad back, a petite hand wearing several golden rings. He looked back at the owner of the hand and met Cassidy's eyes a head lower than his own. 

“Are you going? I thought you might want to have a smoke with me?” 

Eddie looked at her, surprised for a few seconds, and then at his friends who smirked at him. 

“Sure, sure,” he said with a bright smile and slowly started to walk to the door with Cassidy's clicking heels next to him. 

“What was your name?” 

“Eddie. Eddie Barrish.”

Outside they stood side by side by the building's wall, she smoking a thin French cigarette while he blew on his vape. Further away stood Kai and Ricky smoking their own vapes, and on the other side stood her girlfriends, fiddling with their phones. 

They had talked a bit about high school and what happened with people. One guy who had died and a girl who already had six kids. Eddie showed some pictures of his own daughter Sarah, while Cassidy showed some pictures of her cats. 

“I think it's fucking impressive you work as a finance journalist. That's tough shit,” said Eddie with a kind smile. Cassidy giggled a little, embarrassed because Eddie had shown sides she hadn't expected from him. That he knew so much about politics, history, and finance she had never expected from a guy with bleached hair with visible roots. 

“Thanks… But what do you do for work?” She asked curiously. 

“I'm a model,” he said and nodded several times. Cassidy raised her eyebrows with a smile. He was tall and slim and maybe had that sort of trendy trashiness; she couldn't tell. 

“He is!” Kai suddenly said behind him, and looked between Eddie and Cassidy, excited. Eddie looked at him. Worry started to show in his face. He knew what Kai would do; he had done it before, but Cassidy wasn't the girl to appreciate the surprise. Kai took up his phone, searching for something while Eddie laughed unsurely, trying to find a way to tell Kai to back off without sounding like an asshole. Instead, Kai worked faster and pushed his phone in Cassidy's face. 

“Look at this, girl! Fucking impressive, right?” 

Eddie dragged his hand over his face in discomfort and sucked his vape like it was his inhaler.

“He’s an OnlyFans model.” Have you seen that cock?” Kai said, like an enthusiastic seller. Cassidy gave Eddie a look but then lowered Kai's phone so she could see better. Eddie looked down on the screen and saw himself standing in the middle of his living room, dressed in just a fake gold chain around his neck, while a brunette was on her knees in front of him. Cassidy could see every silly tattoo and also his ripped body, but the thing Eddie got most views for was his cock. Cassidy stared at the thick and long member the girl choked on. 

“Is it real?” She asked and looked between Eddie and Kai with big eyes. 

“Fuck, it's real! He just stuffs it down his pant leg all the time!” Kai laughed and shook Eddie's shoulder. Eddie didn't know what to say or do and just stared at his own naked self on the screen, leaning back his head in ecstasy. He didn't dare look at Cassidy because his profession wasn't really anything he was proud of, but it gave him money for rent and food and also child support. He actually had a talent he could get a salary from. When he looked up, he met Cassidy's eyes but also a white Colgate smile. 

“So, like… Do you live close?” 

××× 

They had taken a cab back to his place; it cost 28 dollars, but it was worth it because Cassidy had been on him the whole ride. Their kisses were hungry and messy, and her hand dragged over his crotch as much as she could. Maybe it was also why she let his big, tattooed hands creep in under her dress and hug her warm cheeks. He had a feeling it was his size that just made her interested in him, but he wished she also had been impressed by his intellectual side and his sweet ways, but it didn't really feel like it because she begged to see his cock as soon as they were up in his apartment. She wasn't interested in looking at the pictures of his daughter or the bike standing in the middle of the living room; she just pushed him down in bed and opened his belt and jeans like she was starving. Eddie didn't complain because she was a beautiful girl who obviously wanted him to fuck her all night, but he still could feel disappointment in a hidden chamber in his heart. He was just that OnlyFans model with a big cock for her. It wasn't like a girl like her would date such a guy for real. 

She stood on her knees between his legs while he lay in front of her completely naked. She still had her dress on while looking at his defined abs, poorly made tattoos, and golden chest, but she also looked at his cock. He was completely hard and stood up proudly just in front of her belly. 

“Oh my gosh!” She giggled, doubting if she even dared to touch it. Eddie smirked a little because even if he was disappointed, it would always be funny to see how girls reacted to his schlong.

“Take off your dress and touch me…” he said with a raspy voice and sat up on his elbows. She looked at him with red cheeks and wet lips, and then she did what he said. She stood up next to his bed and pulled off her dress, bra, and panties, and then she crawled up to sit over his thighs. 

“It's… It's fucking huge!” She said with a laugh and laid both her hands over her mouth. 

“I know. You can touch it.” Eddie took a loose grip around her elbow and shook her a bit so she would act, and after some seconds she dared to take his length in both of her hands. Eddie let out a deep exhalation and closed his eyes. Being with Cassidy was like being with any girl at that moment. He didn't want to confess for himself what he actually felt, but the true word would have been objectified. He was just a pretty boy with a big cock, nothing else. 

Cassidy sank down on his condom-dressed cock with a pained sound that got louder when he forced her hips down to meet his. She didn't succeed in taking him fully, though, and awkwardly she rode him, afraid that it would hurt even more. Still, like every other girl, she liked it. He let her ride him to her climax because he knew most girls were not ready for him to take the power the first time they met; they needed to take it at their own pace. He himself didn't come but pretended to do so. He was a porn actor; faking an orgasm with a condom on was easy; he didn't need to show any proof. 

Cassidy looked at him with a giggle after he had deposited the condom and crept down in bed again. She looked at him like she was in love, touching his body like he was the perfect man, but Eddie knew she would be gone the next day when she realized he wasn't. He was a poor, trashy, porn actor with a stolen street sign in the bathroom. She would be happy he used a condom while she ran from his apartment. Eddie followed her acting, though, and acted like a newly in love couple with her until she fell asleep. 

××× 

Just like Eddie thought, he was alone when he woke up. She hadn't left her number, not even a goodbye note. He didn't want to pout over some girl he didn't even know, so he was happier than he usually was that it was Wednesday. His day with his daughter. A year ago, he hadn't appreciated the time with her the way he did now. After an incident surrounding a car, he realized what really mattered in life, and the only answer was Sarah. She was eight now and bright and funny. He could easily hang out with her just as a friend, but he never forgot he was a dad, never again. 

He was thankful he hadn't been drinking that much the night before, and it wasn't hard to get out of bed, take a shower, change sheets, and make himself ready for the outside world. He would meet her at 2 pm at the school’s stairs. Earlier she had been used to him coming late or not even showing up, but that year he had been sitting and waiting on her in the grass just by the school gate. He wasn't like many of the other correct parents and still looked a bit like a teenager, but his daughter was never ashamed of him. Or not that he had noticed. 

He wore a pair of golden Ray-Ban Aviator knockoffs that sunny day with his white tank and dark blue track pants. It was hotter than he had expected, so the gray hoodie he had first had on lay in a pile on the inside of his door. Instead, he showed off well-built arms and silly tattoos while sitting in the grass by the school. Some parents looked at him with distaste, but he didn't care; he was just giddy to see Sarah again.

Two minutes later a group of children her age ran out from the school’s big entrance door; his girl was one of them, and she ran with a big smile towards him. He just stood up on his knees so he could pretend to fall when her little body attacked his much larger one. They laughed together in the grass a while until Eddie stood up, pulling her with him. 

“Hey, Lovebug,” he said teasingly and ruffled her hair. Sarah gave him an annoyed look and fixed her ponytails. 

“Don't call me that!” 

Eddie smirked, used to the protest, and looked towards the gate. 

“Ready to go?” 

He looked down at Sarah with a hand on her shoulder, but she looked towards a group with some grown-ups and kids. 

“I will just say goodbye to Miss Hani.”

Eddie nodded a little. He had met most of her teachers, beige-looking women in their fifties, and a few men in his own age with sweaters and well-trimmed beards. He looked around at the schoolyard while waiting with his arms crossed. He was hungry and hoped she would do it fast until he saw the woman she ran up to. She must have been a few years younger than him and shone just as bright as the sun. She was dressed in a white blouse and floral skirt, stopping just at her knee. She was beautiful. Or beautiful was an understatement; she probably was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She talked with his daughter kindly and fixed her messy ponytails for her before looking in the direction Sarah pointed. She pointed to her father, not bothered at all that he wore a washed-out tank top with track pants. Eddie looked back at them and met Hani’s eyes. He smiled a little embarrassed and lowered his gaze as soon as she had answered his smile. He felt his cheeks get warm, and staring down at the ground, he felt the shock and embarrassment take over. He really was blushing like a little boy. A little boy in love with the sweet teacher. After a while he dared to look up again and saw Sarah come towards him again. 

“Done?” He said stressed, like they had much to do, even if they never had plans. 

“Yep!” 

“So… That was Miss Hani? Is that her first name?” He asked bashfully, but Sarah didn't notice.

“Yeah, she's new. She’s nice.” 

Eddie nodded a little and then looked towards Hani, who laughed with another teacher. He wasn't prepared to meet her eyes again, and especially not to see her smile brightly, just towards him. 

“Yeah, I can see that… Very nice…”

×

@hamburger-sprite @hanamirandak @muchwita @keysandthesea-blog @turbotasticoo @useyourwandbro @forrealandjustsaying

[sulky-valkyrie]

For @suck-tember Day 15: Choke

This is mildly cursed and a little crack-fic-y. SorryNotSorry?

~~~

"Anora, dear, this is a terrible idea," he protested.

"Nonsense, Father, it's a perfect gesture of goodwill.”  The queen of Ferelden grinned wolfishly.  “The Hero of the River Dane greeting Orlesian dignitaries?  They'll be falling over themselves at the insult but won’t be able to say a damn thing because you’re royalty."

Loghain looked at Cailan, then sighed: he'd find no support in the man wrapped around his daughter's finger.  "Fine, but I want it made clear that I am not in favor of this."

"As long as you do it, I don't care what you think, Father."

~~~13 years later~~~

"Loghain?  Loghain Mac Tir?" Gaspard de Chalons exclaimed.  He glanced between the Warden and the Inquisitor in shock. "You have any idea what a stir you're going to cause?"

The dwarf crossed her arms.  "No more than I will on my own.  He's useful."

You remind me of my daughter, he thought to himself, and not for the first time.  Malika Cadash was ruthless once she had a goal in mind, and didn’t care who or what she ran over or broke if they got in her way.

The Grand Duke stared at Loghain a few moments longer than was strictly necessary, then licked his lips.  “I suppose that’s true.”

Damn him, he remembered.

Two men past their prime, sitting in a nondescript inn in a no-name town in Edgehall, pretending not to resent that they’d been sent by their own family to prance and peacock at each other as a show of might.  After the rest of the courtiers and ensemble had finished all their pomp and pageantry, they ended up in the barn, rolling around in the hay in what was definitely not a misguided drunken attempt to finally conquer the country that had caused them so much aggravation.

Loghain almost wished he’d worn a mask, but the thought of even pretending for a moment he was Orlesian made the bile rise in his throat.  Being in the Wardens hadn’t lessened his disgust for the empire in the slightest, even if it had forced him to hide it better, but there were limits.  “Can we get this over with?” he asked gruffly.

Malika arched an eyebrow at him, as if to say, Is this going to be a problem?

He shook his head slightly.  Not for the Inquisition, at least.  He followed as Gaspard escorted her inside, then slipped away through the crowd.  The last thing he wanted was his presence to be announced at the ball.  Some puffed up drunk prick deciding to avenge the insult to his country from forty years ago and ending up with his throat slit over the punch bowl was not a good look.

He skirted his way around the edge of the ballroom to the terrace, grabbing a glass of wine off of a passing tray.  Avoiding lavish parties like this had been one of the best things about becoming a Grey Warden, and he already needed air.

“Mac Tir.”

He spun around.  “De Chalons.”  Smug bastard.  “It’s been some time.”

“Ah, so you do remember?”  Gaspard tapped a finger against his lips and smirked.

Loghain drained his wine and put the glass down on the table very carefully.  It would call attention to himself if he broke it.  “Don’t push me, Gaspard.”

“Or what?” the other man laughed.  “My cousin might appreciate my death, but your Herald is here on my invitation.”

The Warden shook his head and started to go back inside.  Noblemen, and this one in particular, made his head hurt.  

Gaspard caught his arm.  “I asked you a question.”

Loghain started moving as soon he felt the touch, turning to grab his throat and press him against the wall.  Hopefully out of sight from the rest of the ball.  “Or I’ll do it again, you Orlesian prick,” he growled, loosening his grip enough that Gaspard could breathe.

The chevalier coughed, almost delicately, then cocked his head.  “Celene’s address isn’t for another hour.”

[funtimebunnyblog]

I'M BACK!!! 🥰😍❤ Did you all miss me? I'm happy to say that I've finally gotten some WiFi where I'm currently living and updates are gonna try to be more steady here in the future but I can't make any promises because I get very busy with my work 😅😇 Please continue to bear with me!

In other words, a while back I wrote the OG version of this little short fic on A03 but I realized that I had never posted it here! 😱 Nevertheless, I decided to write the Part 2 to this and then decided to remaster that first part before posting it here! 🙂🙂🙂 I'm thinking about turning this into a little mini series 🤔🥰

Anyways, I'll stop rambling! Please enjoy! 😚

Pillarroomates (Chapter 1: Roommate wanted)

(This is dedicated to Dagdoth and Sureynot; 2 of the best bad influences I could ever ask for 🥰😍❤)

The steady click-clacking of keys filled the pleasant silence of the little kitchen, Kars typing away on the laptop before him at the table.

It was just a little after noon, a time where he usually put down his work for a brief session to sit back in silence and enjoy a cup of coffee, or maybe a mug of tea depending on his mood, with whatever baked-good had been whipped up recently. Today however, he chose to cut his little break out of schedule completely to get a jump on the deadline of the month that he was currently picking away at.

Hunched over, eyes glued to the screen, one could've swore he was a living statue perched like that so quietly if it weren't for his typing fingers.

The sweet smell hanging in the air came much closer as Wamuu strode over to the table, a soft smile was painted across the mans lips as he placed an oven fresh cookie on a plate down next to the mug of black tea his Master was letting steep at his side.

"Thank you, Wamuu." Kars said quietly, watching the blonde depart in his peripheral vision for only a beat before regaining his sharp focus on the sea of numbers staring back at him.

Kars had his own room with a desk to work in of course but he always found himself enjoying doing work down here this time of day. The heavenly smell of the kitchen when something was being baked and the pleasant background noise of the radio chiming softly, sometimes accompanied by Wamuu humming along, was something sort of relaxing to Kars.

Relaxing around here tended to be something rare too, as there never seemed to be a dull moment in the lives of the Pillarmen these days.

Not in this neighbourhood, no.

The younger man hummed in response, heading back to the stove to finish scraping fresh cookies off the pan to place on a rack to cool. He was sure Santana would make an appearance soon to try one, with the lovely smell filling the air and all.

Santana could never stay asleep (as heavy of a sleeper as he had the tendency to be) holed up in his room when there was something yummy being cooked.

The times where he appeared the quickest was when Kars flicked on the coffee machine first thing in the morning, the red-head manifesting at his side at the very first spew of hot caffeine never failed to nearly give him a heartattack; especially when it was 5 in the morning in a dark kitchen.

Kars' head lifted, cocking an eyebrow as there suddenly came a knock at the front door; three evenly spaced thumps on the wood. The thought of another complaining neighbour was the first thing to cross his mind, making him sigh as he moved to get up from his chair.

"PIZZA'S HERE!!!"

The sounds of heavy footfalls coming at a rapid speed from down the hallway accompanying the cry stopped him in his tracks.

The plum-haired man grimaced, Wamuu glancing over his shoulder with a frown, as none-other-than Esidisi sped by; the one hand clutching the towel around his waist was the only thing keeping it from blowing away completely.

Despite only catching a glimpse of his speedy companion, Kars didn't miss the fact that the other was sopping wet and trailing water.

Esidisi had simply lept out of the shower the second he heard the knock at the door, leaving with only a towel (just barely even) and the foamy suds that were still clinging to his hair and his body.

No doubt about it, he was dripping all over the place.

And all over his clean floor too.

Kars clicked his tongue, more than tempted to sigh again.

"Really, Esidisi?" He called out to the other.

It was hard to tell whether he was more displeased with his state of soapy undress or the fact that the oldest Pillarmen had gone and ordered yet ANOTHER pizza this week with only God-knows-what on it.

Sure, he the others found themselves actually partaking in "Human food" casually these days. Wamuu even went so far as to teach himself how to cook as a hobby to fill time around the house when he wasn't going to the Gym or to work, but Esidisi had become something of a strange enthusiast on the matter.

Some people in this world got a little riled up over something as simple as Pinapple being added as a topping on a pizza but Kars had a feeling those people would have an absolute fit listening to Esidisi's phone order of a multi-fruit pizza (consisting of: oranges, apples, watermelon and strawberries) with cheese, olives and pepperoni.

He was starting to wonder if his longtime companion was simply doing it just to see how far he could push a Pizza place with his barrage of odd orders until they yelled at him or worse, barred him completely from the place.

His question was only met with laughter. "I decided to ask for Mac and Cheese and Jalapeños on it this time!" Esidisi called back, voice echoing off the walls, as he finally reached the front door.

Wamuu's nose crinkled at the very sound of that, choosing wisely to direct his attention to his cookies once more.

Kars decided to follow suit and do the same with his own work.

He supposed it wasn't really his problem, therefore; he shouldn't say anything.

☆☆☆

The advertisment had been a strange one for sure, but really, you had no choice but to at least look into it. It never hurt to try and you were already desperate enough as it was.

Apartments and open housing in the area was becoming a rarity at best these days, this busy time of year didn't help things either, and you had been scouring the internet for every opportunity or opening there was to move in with someone in this portion of the city.

Sadly, you had turned up empty handed quite a few times.

The last one you had looked into had been great; a nice building, nice seeming people, decent budget; but alas, the people who put out the advert took it down just a day later.

They had decided to give the opening to a close friend of theirs who wanted to come across the country and live with them instead.

You had been starting to consider checking the complete other side of the city and trying to squeeze yourself in somewhere there or maybe even just going with the option of moving cities completely! The hassle of finding a place was just becoming too much until... this one happened to pop up.

☆ Roomate requSWIGGITY SWOOMATE, WE NEED A ROOMATE!!11!!!1!

We are Four Men seeking out a Human roomate to live with us in our rented house.

4 bedroom, 1 bath, 1 kitchen; upstairs, downstairs and basement.

Location: Western side of the city, 929 Bizzare av.

Rent and chores are divided equally among us.

Requirements as followed:

• Must be a CLEAN Human.

• Human must not bear the surname of "Joestar" under ANY means necessary.

•Must be actively working and have claims to have the ability to hold their job.

• Must be willing to contribute to the household via chores and yard work when necessary.

• must be CUTE!!!

• Mus

•

• Must like llf6io78fjjl0

•

• Jo9sjw6jnsjej27ebeolu

• Jsjsij wkk d18kkjs lkdjsjsns52jsjjsnend2njsmdv 6272jsndbdhs2672 jd Djjsija bsij eeskdnne9s782728 jd bjejrn rnusjjsj

• the human must not be loud

• It would be most appreciated if the Human was a mannered person, who holds appreciation for similar hobbies we do. -W

•

Ask within to apply! ☆

You couldn't help but wonder if whoever had written this advert had been drunk at the time by looking at the grabbed mess that took up half the page.

Better yet, you could only hope this was a real advertisement and not some sort of stupid prank.

Either way, you were determined to find out today and claim this oppertunity before anyone else got the chance.

Glancing down at the print out you had made of the ad at the Library, you sighed as you kept going down the street. You had been walking all morning and were beginning to wish you had the foresight to pack a snack or a drink for your seemingly endless sojourn for this supposed place.

There was no picture put onto the advertisement, even a proper description of the place would've been nice, and finding a direct address wasn't exactly a piece of cake to you.

Nonetheless, you kept going. Stopping at every house you passed in hopes to spot a matching address; finding nothing but different numbers and barking dogs tethered in yards.

With every different number meeting your eyes, the possibility of this just being a fake ad just kept growing and growing in your mind.

You were even starting to consider just giving up entirely when, at last, there it was. "292" the numbers were bolted to the front porch, the 9 starting to tilt to one side.

It seemed nice enough. The lawn was well kept, the walkway however looked as if it needed to be redone. The building was a sunbleached blue, probably a nice clean periwinkle once upon a time, but now leaning a tad white and staring to flake. The place was definitely in need of a touch up.

This was the place, now if someone was Home to even just talk to you about this ad that would be great.

You gathered up the courage to leave the sidewalk and start up the overgrown walkway, the wood of the porch whined under your feet as you stepped onto it. A couple of chairs, a book carelessly left behind in one, a little cage sat all by its lonesome in the far corner, and a big unmissable stain (probably coffee) caught your eye on the wood.

The word "Pillarmen" was scrawled on the name card over the mail slot of the front door.

A strange surname, you had never heard of it before, but it must've been safe to assume that it belonged to someone here. Presumably one of the men who had made this advertisement in the first place.

With only a moments hesitation, clutching the print-out in hand, you reached out and rapped on the door hard with your knuckles, then stood back and waited.

Silence... You took the opportunity to fix your appearance slightly, suddenly becoming a little self-conscious, smoothing out your shirt before clasping your hands behind your back neatly and putting on your best smile.

First impressions were important, most especially a first impression made at the door after all.

There came the sounds of voices, too muffled for you to hear through the walls, followed closely by the unmistakable thundering of footsteps coming closer and closer from within.

Finally, the door flung open.

You felt your eyes go a little wide, the smile drained from your face as you craned your neck back slightly to meet the gaze of the very tall and very muscular dark-skinned man that now stood before you.

Belatedly, as your eyes followed the droplets of water that were dripping off him, trickling down every inch of his muscular body and pooling at his feet, you realized he was practically naked; clutching only a fluffy white towel around his waist.

The towel didn't look nearly as fluffy and white as his hair, however.

"Uh--" Your tongue swole in your mouth as you both found yourselves staring at one another, seemingly sharing a similar dumbfounded moment.

He blinked owlishly.

"You're not the Pizza delivery." He said matter-of-factly, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between the two of you.

Your head shook violently, broke from your sudden stupor, pulling out the slightly crumpled piece of paper out for him to see.

"Uh-- I--... N-No! I'm not-- I'm uh.... here ab-about the-- the roomate ad...?" You sputtered, the words felt as garbled as alphabet soup falling off your tongue, you felt a nervous sweat beading on your skin under your clothes as it hit you for a second time that wasn't wearing any. "Oh! If uh-- this is a bad time I-- I can come back later!"

His face lit up suddenly, eyes shimmering like sapphires. "Oh!" He cried. "I forgot about that!"

The massive man turned, calling back over his shoulder deeper into the apartment.

"Kars! There's a Human here, they saw our advert!"

You happened to be so gobsmacked, still reeling from the slight shock of the very first of your encounter, you hadn't even noticed he distinctly used the word "Human" there.

"What?!"

You couldn't see past the mans hulking figure but you could very well hear the scraping of a chair in the distance, followed by more thundering footsteps heading towards the door.

You blinked as yet another larger-than-life sized man made his appearance, pushing past the first with a frown. The both of them looked almost comically squashed where they stood taking up the whole doorway.

This man was just as tall and as muscular as the first. His skin was like ivory, framed by dark cloth wrapped from his neck to the top of his head with only a tuft of deep purple hair dangling precariously out over his pointed nose.

More importantly, very much unlike the first, this one was fully clothed.

Clad in a dress shirt that matched his hair, slightly unbuttoned to just give you a peak of the buldging muscles he had underneath and the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, neatly pressed black dress pants and house shoes.

Kars blinked in surprise as he caught sight of you at last, eyes scanning over you. He honestly hadn't expected someone to come to their door about the advertisement they had put out so quickly, they had only put it out less than a day ago.

If anything, by the way it had turned out, he was surprised someone responded to it at all.

"Please, come in." Kars told you, making his best attempt to save this lousy first impression.

His surprised look was short-lived, turning sharp as he directed it onto Esidisi. The other man smiled sheepishly, turning and retreat back to the bathroom to finish his shower without the pizza he had left it for...

☆☆☆

☆Previously...☆

Kars hummed, reading over the advert for a 4th time with pursed lips.

He had listed all the necessary information about them and the living situation and even put down a few requirements to set the bar for any Human who would happen to want to apply.

However, even with the ground rules set, it still just seemed a little too bare to him.

"Hmm," Kars peered over his shoulder towards the living room doorway; he swore he could hear more of the crunching of the flaming hot cheetos Esidisi was enjoying rather than the actual program he was watching. "Is there anything specific you would like to add to this before I post it?"

"Shay they mush be cute!" came the reply though a mouthful of spicy junkfood. Kars could only hope he wasn't getting crumbs all over the couch again, not to mention getting too handsy with the T.V remote eating those things...

"That isn't what qualifies as a 'requirement', Esidisi..." he sighed.

The other swallowed, now blessed with the ability to speak much clearer; the crinkling of the cheeto bag hit Kars' ears next.

"Well excuse me for having standards." He heard his oldest companion grumble, drowned out by the crunch of more food.

Wamuu's head peered out of the kitchen, the pie he was just about to place in the oven cradled in oven-mit hands. He had decided to try his hand at fudge pie this time, having mastered apple so quickly.

"It would be nice if the Human were a Warrior as well," he said, disappearing from Kars' sight again as he went back into the kitchen, carrying the pie to the awaiting oven. "Or perhaps if they were interested in going to the Gym or baking as I do..."

Kars sighed, "Wamuu, I understand you would like someone to train with but this--"

"The Human must not be loud."

The Pillarman practically jumped out of his chair, the tiniest yelp escaping his lips as he swiveled his head to find none other than Santana looming over him. The sheet lines imprinted in the others face indicated he had just arisen from a deep sleep; most likely venturing out of his cave and into the kitchen to see what Wamuu was up to.

Even after thousands of years, he still couldn't get used to the youngest Pillarman sneaking up on him.

It probably didn't even count as "sneaking" anyways as Santana was just so naturally quiet he just happened to go unnoticed until he spoke up.

Kars opened his mouth to make an attempt to speak again, only to be cut off one more time as Esidisi finally made his own appearance; leaning over the purple-haired man to see the advert in the works.

"See, this is all wrong." Esidisi told him, frowning at the screen. "This is too formal! If we're going to get someone at all, we need to grab their attention somehow. Here, I'll fix it!"

The other practically clamored over him, cheeto bag tucked under arm as he reached over to type on the computer, deleting the majority of the title Kars had written out and already replacing it with one of his own creation.

Kars belatedly realized the others' hands were still coated in hot cheeto crumbs, smudging the keys of his pristine computer with imprints of red and orange as he typed away.

"Esidisi, stop this at once!" He commanded, trying to push him at arms length, only to be met with a hand pushing back and smooshing against his face. The smell of spicy cheese flavoring hit his nostrils, only fueling his fire. "This is my work computer! I'm the one writing this advertisement!"

Santana merely stood back, watching the two elder Pillarmen fight over the computer in silence. Esidisi was pushed by Kars into the keyboard a handful of times before their focus was solely on one another and no longer the ad.

"Get your grubby hands off me!" Kars growled as the other straddled him in the chair, his face now smudged like his keyboard. They kept pushing on one another, a clumsy slap war already underway, obscenities and curses getting mangled as they argued back and forth.

"You never let me--"

"I told you that--"

"I wanna do it! Just let me--"

Santana peered down at the computer curiously, uninterested in watching the display before him any longer.

The red-head typed out his own request before picking up the device and carrying it to the kitchen for Wamuu to see and whatever he wished; Santana ignored the sound of two bodies toppeling out of the chair and hitting the floor as he left.

Kars didn't even get to see the ad (or rather; the remainder of what qualified as an advert) before it was posted online by Santana.

[pascalscenarios]

CLUMSY (Frankie Morales x Reader)

CLUMSY

Inspired by the song “Clumsy” by Fergie 

Scenario Series

Frankie Morales X Reader

Summary: You’re a waitress at a bar. Frankie is clumsy and completely flustered around you. 

Words: 1600

Warning: Mentions of alcohol, accidental touching

Author's Note: No because clumsy Frankie sounds cute af - K

It was packed at Aces, the bar you waitressed at. Tonight was game night, meaning a big sporting event was airing live on TV. Everyone flooded to the bar to watch the game on the multiple flatscreens, drink a shit ton of beer and eat greasy, yet delicious food.

“Alright Mac, here’s your usual, a pint of beer and nachos” You take the beer off the tray first, then set the nachos down on to the small circular table.

“Thanks darlin” He smiles at you. He picks up the beer, taking a swig and turning his attention back to the game.

“Of course, let me know if you need anything else!” you say over the loud noise.

“Thanks!”

With that you hold your empty tray in your hand, weaving past tables and bodies and make your way over to the bar to pick up orders.

You set your tray on the bartop, picking up plates of foods and beers, placing them on your tray.

Your coworker Johnny rushes up to you “Could you cover the table in the back?” He says as he quickly piles up his tray with orders.“Sorry! I’m really falling behind with all these orders and they requested for you”

Johnny was a new hire, only been on the job for a couple weeks. This was his first night working with the bar packed like this. It could get overwhelming.

You look over to the back, four guys sitting at the table. It was The Miller brothers, Will and Benny, and their friends Santiago, and Frankie. The four guys were regulars at the bar, coming in every so often.

Frankie Morales was looking at you, but quickly averted his gaze away when you noticed him staring at you. A smile crept onto your face. Frankie was cute, and boy did you have a fat crush on him.

Frankie is always nervous around you. You’ve heard him talk to the guys or anyone else like it was nothing, but when it was you, he’d shut up real quick. He was selective with his words, sometimes even stuttering when he spoke.

Something always went wrong when he tried to talk to you. Countless of times he has tripped, slipped, stumbled and fumbled in your presence. He is an absolute clutz around you.

“Yeah, of course! Don’t worry, I got you!”

“Thank you! I owe one!” Johnny quickly takes his tray and rushes off into the room.

You quickly maneuver around the floor, dropping off beers and food to various tables before heading over to the table towards the back corner of the bar.

“Hey, boys!” you greeted him.

Benny shouts your name “...Our favorite Waitress!”

“How are you doing?” Will asks, leaning on his arms that were on the table.

“Good! It’s a busy night! I haven’t seen you guys around for a while” you hold the tray in your arms.

“We’ve been busy at work. Thought we should have a few beers, eat and watch the game” Santi says motioning to the TV.

“And besides, Frankie here wanted to see you” Benny tossing his arm around him. Frankies eyes widen.

You cock your eyebrow up. “Is that so?” The guys begin to snicker or try to hold in their laughs.

“What?- No, that’s not why we came here- I mean not that I don’t wanna see you- it’s good to see you-I” he begins to babble

You begin to giggle “It’s good to see you, Frankie”

Frankie wanted the floor to swallow him whole. He was turning red, embarrassed, and angry staring at Benny.

“I already know what you guys want, I’ll be back in a minute” you say before walking away.

Once you were a far distance away, the guys busted out laughing.

“God, Frankie what was that?!” Benny was hunched over from laughing.

Frankie rolled his eyes annoyed at his friends.

“The person you become when they’re around...it's unreal” Santi chimes in.

“You should ask them out already Frankie. You’ve been crushing on them for a while” Will encourages him.

“They probably think I’m fucking idiot” Frankie mumbles.

“You’re not an idiot. You’re just nervous, that's all. It’s normal to be nervous around someone you like. You’re too much in your head. Don’t try to control the situation, just let things happen. Let it play out” Will expresses his advice to Frankie.

“Alright, 20 bucks something is gonna go wrong tonight...I say pretty soon” Benny says.

“Frankie’s gonna be okay” Will glares at Benny and Santi. They weren’t even drunk yet, yet here they are being assholes.

“Something always happens though, but I think later on in the night” Santi gives them a knowing look, “You got yourself a bet” He leans across the table shaking hands with Benny. Will shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“I knew I shouldn’t have come out tonight” Frankie gets up from his chair. “I’m going home”

“Frankie, Come on man” Benny drags out.

“No, I’m out of here” Frankie whips around, accidentally bumps into the tray in your hands. One of the pints tip over on the tray spilling all over your body.

“Oh my god” You gasp, clutching the tray close to you, making sure the rest of the pints don’t spill on the ground. You quickly set the beer soaked tray on to their table. You look down at yourself. Your v neck shirt was drenched in beer, and dripping onto your jeans.

“I’m so sorry- here let me help you” Frankie picks up the napkins from the dispenser on the table.

Your eyes widen as he begins to dap your exposed chest with the napkin. You know he means well. You don’t even think he realised what he was doing. You were just caught off guard.

“Frankie!” Will shouts.

“What-OH! Shit” it clicks in his head where his hands were, and clearly they shouldn’t be here.

He quickly moves his hands away from your body, and stepping away from you “I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean- I swear I wasn’t trying to- I” He was a stuttering mess.

“It’s fine” You chuckled awkwardly “Uh, I’m gonna go change and bring you new beers...I’ll have someone clean up the spill, excuse me” You pick up the tray and head back over to the bar.

“Fuck” Frankie sat back down covering his face in embarrassment. He felt terrible for not only spilling the drinks on you, but for touching you.

“Pay up, Garcia” Benny holds out his hand for twenty dollars. “Ouch!” Bennt helps out as his older brother slaps him upside the head.

…

The rest of the night Frankie remained silent, limiting himself to a few words, hardly making any eye contact when you came around by the table.

The bars closing time inched closer. People in the bar started to leave sporadically.

The night was coming down to an end. The guys paid for their food and left a good tip for you like they always do. The guys got up, waved goodbye to you, and started to make their way towards the exit.

Frankie didn’t want to leave without apologizing to you. I would have messed with his conscience, keeping him awake until the wee hours of the morning.

“I’ll catch up with you guys outside, I’ll be a minute.”

You were behind the bar, wiping up glasses that you just cleaned.

Frankie's heart was pounding. There was no need to be nervous. You were always so sweet to him. He took a deep breath in, signing quickly. “Hey” Frankie said as he approached the counter top.

“Hi” you smile softly at him as you set the cup down on the counter, picking up another to wipe.

“Are you staying a bit longer?”

“The guys are waiting for me outside..I just wanted to talk to you. I just wanted to apologize earlier-”

“Frankie” you sighed, “Don’t worry about it, it’s fine”

“No, It wasn’t. I knocked a whole pint of beer on you, then proceeded to touch your chest, without consent-”

“Frankie, it was an accident. You were just trying to help me” you giggle. “Besides, I think it's cute when I make you all flustered”

Frankie started to blush. He scratches the back of his neck “You noticed that huh?”

“There’s no need to be nervous around me. I’m no one special”

“Well I mean you kinda are. I’ve had a crush on you for a while” Frankie cringed at what he said. “Wow I sound like such a fucking creep- I’m sorry. I’m really not good at these things and I-”

You quickly set down the glass and rag down on the counter. You leaned your body forward, grabbing a hold of Frankies shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. It was simple and sweet.

You pull away, biting your lip “Frankie you need to relax...I’ve had a crush on you for a while too.

“Really? After I made myself look like a clown in front of you countless of times?”

“Yes really. How about we go out on a date?” You asked him.

“O-okay. Yeah I’d like that…” 

“I’m off Friday night. Is that day okay?” 

“Yeah”

“Alright, here’s my number” You grab a pen from your apron, and write it down on a napkin. You hand him the napkin.

“Night Frankie”

“Goodnight”

Frankie heads out of the bar and finds the guys waiting around.

“What took you so long?” Benny complained 

“Looks like a got a date friday night” he smiles holding up the napkin with your number

“ATTA BOY FRANKIE!!” 

MT: @icanbeyourjedi @sara-alonso @greeneyedblondie44 @hb8301 1 @alberta-sunrise @spacenerdpascal @ryleyrooroo @reader-s-cantina @nikkixostan @mindidjarin

[reidgraygubler]

sunshine (matthew gray gubler/reader)

Request: nope :) but i do take them 

Couple: Matthew Gray Gubler/Gender Neutral!Reader

Category: fluff w/ angst

Content Warning: light swearing (if any), descriptions of an anxiety/panic attack, talks of depression 

Word Count: 2.3k (2,345 in fact :))

A/N: I was having a bad mental health day the other day and having anxiety attacks out the waa-zoo. So this is just based on my own imagination and dreams. This does contain descriptions of anxiety/panic attacks! If you are sensitive to those, proceed with caution! I know it’s not perfect, so please bear with me. Thank you :)  check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

I roughly rubbed my nose as I sat on the couch. My body, though shaking, was pressed into the corner and covered by a small grey throw blanket. I was alone, like always. Matthew was out, doing work or grocery shopping. I don’t know. I just knew I was alone. 

The way my heart and mind were racing began to overwhelm me. There was nothing I could do. I just kept my eyes squeezed tight and pulled the blanket around me. I wished he would just come home. My heart was pounding so hard in my head, it was driving me crazy. 

Almost as if he could hear my thoughts from a mile away, the front door opened and Matthew stepped in. I swallowed roughly, pulling the blanket tighter around me as I balled myself deeper into the couch. I pressed my hands to my face and shook my head.

“Sunshine?” Matthew called, walking more and more into the house. I didn’t answer. I swallowed roughly and shook my head, exhaling deeply. “Sunshine?” He called again, his tone was slightly frantic when I didn’t respond right away. I looked towards the front hall and watched as he finally stepped into the living room.

I stared at him with wide eyes. My heart was suddenly in my throat and all I wanted to do was cry. My hands were shaking, and no matter how hard I was trying to still them… They continued to shake. There was a familiar dampness on my cheeks. I couldn’t stop it.

“What’s wrong,” Matthew kept his voice low as he rushed to sit beside me on the couch. I stared at him, my eyes were starting to get blurry because of the build-up of tears. I took a shaky breath and shook my head. I blinked and allowed the tears to roll down my cheeks. 

No words found their way to my lips. I couldn’t answer him. My eyes just stayed glued to him, staring at him. The silence in the room was starting to scare me and only make my heart rate and breathing pick up. I slowly, but roughly, rubbed my cheeks free of tears. But no matter how much I wiped the tears away, they just showed up faster. 

“Sunshine, what’s wrong? What happened?” Matthew asked, turning to face me. He tested the waters, placing his hands on the couch between us. I stared at his hands, taking as deep a breath as I could. “You have to tell me what’s going on. So I can help you,” he whispered, placing a hand on my knee. I felt frozen, paralyzed as I looked at his hand on me. My body continued to shake.

“I… I don’t know,” I bit my lips together and looked up at his face. Matthew was looking at me, his eyes on my face, listening to everything I said. He was very attentive. Whenever I talked to him, it was like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. He always waited for me to finish speaking before he put in his thoughts. Even when I was drunk or a blubbering mess, he’d listen and wait. Patient… he was patient, even when I was in the middle of a panic attack. 

In fact, even when I was in the middle of having a panic attack, he knew just what to do and what to say. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a panic attack, and it wouldn’t be the last. He was calm and sensitive when he spoke to me. He knew what I needed, even when I couldn’t say what I needed exactly. I was thankful for that.

 “I don’t know… I don’t know what happened. One minute I was in the kitchen, doing the dishes… The next I was… I was…” I looked at him and shook my head. Matthew pouted as he brought a hand to my face. He was careful to wipe away the tears on my face. I sniffled a bit and shook my head. “I don’t know what happened, Matthew,” I whispered and shook my head.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. That’s fine. You don’t have to know,” he nodded, moving closer to me. I looked at him and nodded. He wrapped his arms around me, and I fell into his side. A small sob fell from my lips and made my body shake lightly. Matthew hugged me tightly. He was warm and his presence calmed me a little. 

“I just…” I brought a hand to my face, wiping the tears off my cheeks and shook my head. I stopped talking and stayed quiet. Matthew hummed, telling me it was okay. I pressed my face into his chest and sighed deeply. I felt like I was dying for some reason. “I missed you,” I whispered into his chest. My voice was soft and broken. 

“I was gone for 45 minutes, Sunshine,” Matthew laughed, rubbing his hand up and down my arm. I pouted and looked up at him. “Well, I’m here now and that’s all that matters,” he added in a whisper. I felt a small smile grow on my lips. I felt my body relax the more and more I fell into Matthew’s side. And soon, I fell asleep. 

{***}{***}{***}{***}{***}

When I woke up, I was on the couch, alone. Clattering came from the kitchen, telling me Matthew was there. I looked around the room, and out the window. It was dark out. I wonder how long I was asleep.

I stood up, folding the blanket over the back of the couch before going towards the kitchen. Matthew was standing in front of the stove, stirring something in a pot. I smiled and stepped in more. 

“Hey, good morning, Sunshine,” Matthew hummed as I wrapped my arms around his middle. I nuzzled my face into his back, breathing in his scent. I exhaled deeply and smiled. 

“It’s not morning, Silly,” I chuckled and moved so I was standing beside him. He looked over at me before extending an arm out. I smiled before stepping closer to him. He wrapped his arm around me to hold me closer. I lifted my arms around him. “How long was I asleep for?” I asked, looking into the pot. Mac and Cheese. This bastard knows me all too well. 

“Hour and a half,” he looked down at his watch. I nodded as I watched him stir. “How are you feeling? You good now?” He asked, looking down at me. I nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m better now,” I whispered and looked up at him. He looked back at me and nodded. The way he kept his eyes on me made me feel safe. And I loved that about him. He always had the ability to make me feel safe.

“How about I finish making your favorite food while you clean off the table? We can talk about what happened?” Matthew offered, gesturing towards the table. I laughed and nodded. Though the mess on the table was mostly Matthew’s, I did have some to clean. 

“Yeah, yeah,” I looked up at him. I went on my toes to peck his cheek. He smiled and looked at me. “Sounds good to me,” I smiled before stepping away from him. I went to the table and shuffled the papers together, putting them into separate piles. 

“Do you want water or juice?” Matthew asked as he walked around to the table. He had two blue bowls filled with mac and cheese. I smiled as I sat down.

“I think… Juice,” I looked up at him and smiled. He laughed and nodded. 

“Juice it is,” he placed the bowls down before going to grab two cups and a bottle of lemonade. I smiled at him, again, when he finally sat beside me. 

“You didn’t have to make dinner you know,” I spoke as I began shoveling my food into my mouth. Matthew nearly cackled and looked over at me. 

“Okay, I know I didn’t have to make dinner. However… I wanted to. And, judging by the way you’re eating it… It’s probably a good thing that I cooked.” He chuckled as he poured me a glass of lemonade. 

“I guess I… It’s not that I forgot to eat. My mind was preoccupied,” I cringed and looked at him. Matthew looked at me with concern and worry on his face. I looked back down at my food before scooping a big spoonful into my mouth. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Matthew asked, looking at me. I moved my lips side to side and cocked my head. I sighed and looked back at him. “We don’t have to talk about it now… But we do have to talk about,” he whispered. I nodded, agreeing that I would have to talk about it. 

“No, no, I know,” I whispered and dropped my spoon back into the bowl. I huffed out a breath of air and shrugged, “I don’t know.” I ran my hand through my hair and looked down. 

“When I left to do errands, you were fine. Hell, you were more than okay when I left. Cracking jokes left and right. Teasing me for shit,” he smiled softly at me. I laughed and nodded. “There’s the laughter I know and love,” Matthew reached over to hold my hand. I smiled at him as I held his hand.

“I guess… I guess I was just faking it. Wearing a stupid mask. I think deep down I wasn’t actually okay. Ya know? And, when you left, I was left alone with my thoughts…” My voice dropped to a whisper. My shoulders fell as I looked at the table. “And then… Once my thoughts took over there was nothing I could do to stop it. I was… Alone and my intrusive thoughts took control.” I shrugged and glanced at him. His attention was solely on me. I swallowed roughly and shrugged again. “I’ve never felt so alone and it felt like the intrusive thoughts just made me feel lonelier. I know I shouldn’t listen to those thoughts. I tried distracting myself, so I did the dishes. But… It was all I could hear. The things and stuff...” I blinked and wrinkled my nose. I looked back at Matthew as tears brimmed my eyes. 

“Sunshine,” he whispered. He pulled his chair closer to me. I turned to face him. He grabbed both my hands and held on to them. “You will never ever be alone with me around. You got that? I’m sure you’ll wish to be alone with how much I’ll be around you.” He smiled at me. I looked at him and stifled a laugh. “I’ll make sure your intrusive thoughts never bother you again. I’ll know when you’ll have them. They have no right bothering you the way they are,” He pouted. 

“I just know this won’t be the last time it happens,” I whispered, looking down. The tears rolled down my cheeks and down the bridge of my nose, dropping of the tip. I sniffled and shook my head. 

“And I will do everything in my power to make it’s over before it starts. Okay,” he whispered, bringing his hands to my face. He gently tilted my head up so I was looking at him. The pads of his thumbs ran across my cheekbones, wiping away my tears. “I’ll sing as loud as I can with your music and tell you jokes and play you movies and lay in bed with you, holding you close while I whisper sweet nothings in your ears…” He looked at me with a smile. I cackled and shook my head.  

“That sounds nothing like you, Matthew,” I laughed and looked at him, “You don’t whisper sweet nothings. You more so just say “You are the sexiest bitch I know.”. Sweet nothings my ass,” I laughed. Matthew laughed as he dropped his hands to my hands.

“Yeah, but that’s beside the point. I can be a sweet nothings person. Or, alternatively, I cuddle you close and give you sexiest bitch compliments,” He smiled and winked. I rolled my eyes.

“I’m sure you can be a sweet nothings person,” I smiled at him. He smiled and nodded.

“You’re allowed to feel this way, Sunshine. Everyone gets depressed sometimes. And that’s okay. You and your feelings are valid,” he poked my nose, causing me to wrinkle it again. I nodded and looked down at his hands, which were wrapped around mine. “You okay now?” He dropped his head to look at me. I smiled and nodded, looking up at him.

“I will be,” I whispered. He smiled and nodded. 

“You know, there’s a reason why I call you Sunshine,” he smiled as he interlocked his fingers with mine. I smiled and shrugged. “And that reason is… You are one of the brightest, happiest sunshiny people that I know. And I know a lot of people. Sunshine suits you. You remind me of the sun,” he held our hands up. I smiled and watched him kiss the back of my hand. “I love you, you know that,”

“Yeah, yeah, of course, you do,” I rolled my eyes before looking back at him with a smile, “I love you too, Goobie,” 

“Okay, finish eating. I wanna watch Avatar,” he dropped my hands before turning back to his food. I looked at him with a pout.

“We talking creepy blue people? Or The Last Airbender?” I asked before I continued to shovel mac and cheese into my mouth.

“The Last Airbender,” he replied, sipping his lemonade.

“Show or... “

“Of course the show, Sunshine.” Matthew smiled and furrowed his eyebrows. I nodded.

“Because that’s the only one that matters,” I returned the smile. 

And that’s how the night ended. When we both finished eating, we cleaned the dishes and went back to the living room, lying on the couch and watching Avatar: The Last Airbender. I laid comfortable between his legs with my head on his belly. I fell back to sleep in Matthew’s arms, not alone, and feeling happy and loved. 

[kaimelia]

Heartbeats (Ch 2)

a/n: ahhhh thank you for all of the love on ch 1! I have a bunch of this already written so updates will be pretty consistent for the next few chapters!

here’s a link to ch 1: https://afsalta.tumblr.com/post/646116480826654720/heartbeats-ch1

--------------

"So, your tests showed that you have Stage 3 Metastatic Osteosarcoma, which has spread to your lungs. We're going to get you started on chemotherapy soon and make a surgical plan." He felt a squeeze on his hand yet continued to stare blankly ahead. If the oncologist was still talking, he couldn't hear anything.

"I thought osteosarcoma only occurred in young people," Amelia muttered, bringing Link out of his thoughts.

"It's definitely more common among young adults, but it still occurs among adults." Link stared at the nameplate on the desk in front of him, tracing the outline of each letter with his eyes. He could feel the oncologist's gaze on him. "We want to start chemo as soon as possible. I think that we start with four rounds of chemo and see what effect it has." He nodded slowly. "I know that this is scary, so I'll give you two some time. Come find me if you have any questions." She exited the room, leaving them alone. Amelia shifted uncomfortably, thinking about how this was their third time in this situation in the past week. Sitting in a doctor's office, faced with terrible news and neither one of them knowing what to say.

"Do you want to go home?" He shook his head.

"I can't go home. I can't look at Scout and smile like everything's okay."

"We have to tell him eventually," she whispered, watching as the orthopedic surgeon lifted himself out of the chair, taking an extra moment to gain his balance. He suddenly felt more uneasy than before, as if receiving a diagnosis had worsened his condition. She stood up behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Where are you going?"

"To find Jo. I need to drink." She sighed as he walked away, her hand falling to her side, and she whimpered softly to herself. Link made his way down the hall, hoping that his coworkers couldn't see the limp in his leg that was paining him more than before. "Jo," he muttered, tugging at her arm once he approached her. She turned around at the sound of his voice and smiled widely.

"Hey, what's going on with your face?"

"I need to drink." Jo pulled out her phone, clicking on the screen and showing it to him.

"It's not even noon." He raised his eyebrows, hoping that his best friend would understand the expression on his face. "Okay. Give me five minutes." He grudgingly followed her into the attendings' lounge, silently leaning against the counter while waiting for her to change out of her scrubs. They walked to the bar in silence, Link ordering a beer as she fell into a booth. "What's going on?" He took a sip of the beer, leaning back against the cushion behind him.

"I have cancer." Jo's face fell across from him, and he avoided her gaze. "I don't want to talk about it. I just want to get drunk and forget about the fact that I'm dying." She reached for his hand across the table, a motion of comfort.

"Alright."

--------------

Jo dropped him off a few hours later; her arm wrapped tightly around her friend's waist to steady him as they climbed the short walkway leading to the front door. Amelia opened it after Jo knocked. "He's drunk. Like, really drunk."

"I'm not that drunk," he interjected, his words slurring together. Jo could see the neurosurgeon's chin quiver slightly before she reached out for her husband's arm. "He told me. About the cancer. I'm really sorry, and if you guys need anything, I'm always here." Amelia nodded, thanking the woman for bringing Link home. He grinned at her widely after the door was closed.

"You look really pretty." She frowned at his words and dropped his wrist.

"Don't. Go to our bedroom and sleep. I have to go pick Scout up from school, and I don't want him seeing you like this." Link laughed at her, stumbling towards their bedroom and using the walls of the hallway for support. She bit her lip and turned around, quickly grabbing the car keys and slamming the door behind her. She connected her phone to the Bluetooth of the car, clicking the call button on Maggie's contact before starting the vehicle.

"Amelia?"

"Stage 3 metastatic osteosarcoma spread to his lungs. Feels like a fucking death sentence," she mumbled, backing out of the driveway. "And then Link goes out drinking and comes home slurring his speech, barely able to walk down the hallway. And now I have to pick my son up from school and pretend like nothing's wrong!" She could imagine Maggie's face on the other end of the phone; her lips pursed tightly and the corners of her eyes swollen with tears.

"Amelia, I'm so sorry-"

"I'm just so pissed off. Of course, this happens when our lives are finally settling down. I mean, we just got settled into the house, Scout's finally used to going to school, and now my husband's going to die!" Her voice grew increasingly loud as she spoke, stopping the car suddenly at a red light.

"Amelia, he's not going to-"

"Tell me something. Anything, please. I need to think about something else." The air was silent for a moment.

"Winston still wants to move to Boston. I told him I can't leave; you and Link need me, Mer needs me, but he's really insistent."

"Do you want to go?" Another moment of silence.

"I'm not sure. My family's here. I don't want to leave you all," Maggie spoke, her voice quieter than before. Amelia suddenly felt a bit of guilt, knowing that Maggie wouldn't leave with the knowledge of Link's cancer. "But, I also love Winston. He wants to be near his family."

"Sounds like you're going back to long-distance," Amelia mumbled, pulling into the school parking lot. "I gotta go. Come over for dinner sometime this week?"

"Of course." Amelia parked the car and disconnected her phone, bringing it up to her ear. "If you need anything, I'm here."

"Thank you." She shoved her phone into her pocket, joining the crowd of other parents waiting for their children. The school doors opened a minute later, and she immediately spotted her son running out with his bright blue backpack.

"Mamma!" he shouted, speeding forward into her arms. Amelia kneeled and embraced him tightly.

"Hi, buddy!" She smiled widely at him, glancing down at his hands. "What happened!" The boy grinned and held his hands out, his fingers covered in blue scribbles.

"I was showing Harrison the veins on his fingers, so we traced them with a marker!" Amelia cocked her head to the side and rustled her son's hair, waving to another parent walking by.

"Looks like someone's going to need some hand sanitizer." She took his hand, leading him to the car and helping him up into his car seat. He always complained about it, saying he was a big boy, and since Ellis didn't need her car seat anymore, he didn't need his. The mother chuckled at his claims, pretending to block her ears while moving into the driver's seat. He excitedly told her about his day and how his teacher let him lead the line because he finished his work first.

"Momma?" He eventually asked, kicking his legs out against the back of her seat.

"Mhm?"

"Can we have pizza for dinner?" Amelia smiled at him in the rearview window.

"Tonight is supposed to be mac and cheese."

"Daddy was sad yesterday, and Daddy loves pizza." She choked back a sob at her son's awareness, suddenly conscious of what her son didn't know. "And we can watch Toy Story!"

"I think that would be wonderful."

--------------

Amelia masked her annoyance when her husband came out into the living room later that evening, complaining about his headache. He'd slumped down onto the couch and pulled Scout into his embrace, acting as if he wasn't dying and as if he hadn't spent the day getting drunk like a stupid teenager. They'd both smiled widely as Toy Story began to play on the television, happily eating pizza and amusing their son with high-pitched voices and tickles on his stomach. After the movie, Amelia looked over at her husband. He nodded slowly, as if unsure of what he was saying himself, yet somehow understanding what she was asking.

"Scout, there's something we need to talk to you about." He perked up quickly, nibbling on a pizza crust, his toy Buzz resting in his lap. Link sat up behind him and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You know how Daddy and I have been going to a lot of appointments yesterday and today?"

"With Dr. Bailey!" Her eyes turned upwards in a smile.

"Some of them, yes." She took her son's hand in hers. "We have to go to the doctor's because Daddy is sick." Scout turned around to look up at his father.

"You're sick?" Link nodded at him, biting the inside of his cheek. "How?"

"Well, my body is sick. And I have to get medicine and maybe have surgery soon." Amelia frowned when his voice cracked.

"Like the flu?" She shook her head.

"No, Daddy has something called cancer. The doctors are going to do everything to make Daddy feel better. But, he's gonna be tired and feel sick a lot." Scout sniffled, a few tears escaping from his eyes. The neurosurgeon looked up to see the same look on Link's face, his own tears rolling down his cheeks. "And, if there's anything you want to know, you can ask us."

"Is Daddy going to die?" he cried, his tiny blue eyes pleading for an answer. Amelia took his hand.

"We don't know, Scout. We have to see if Daddy feels better when he gets the medicine." Scout fell against his father's chest, burying his face into the man's t-shirt. Link wrapped his arms around his son, leaning back into the couch.

"I'm right here, okay?" They remained in that position for some time until Scout had tired himself out from crying and fallen asleep in Link's arms. Amelia watched as her husband looked down at their son, his hand rubbing soothing patterns on the boy's forehead. He made eye contact with her. "I'm sorry. That I got drunk, I just needed to forget for a few hours."

"I'm not going to say it's okay, you know how I feel when you drink a lot, but I understand why." She sighed, pulling the knitted blanket off the back of the couch and tossing it over her husband and son. "You do realize that once you start chemo, you can't drink." He raised his eyebrows.

"I know." The air between them felt heavy. "He's already so sad. He doesn't even truly understand what's happening and he's terrified. He's only four," Link whispered, not looking away from their sleeping son.

"You're his dad. He practically worships you." They both breathed out soft laughs. "He wanted to get pizza for dinner because he noticed you looked sad." Link turned his head, making eye contact with her. "He's a lot more observant than we think. He just needs us to be with him." The father nodded in agreement. "Are we sleeping out here tonight?" she asked, adjusting a pillow behind her. Link laid down further into the couch.

"We should put him in his own bed," Link said softly, careful not to raise his voice too loudly. Amelia smirked, knowing that Scout wouldn't end up in his bed.

"I'll go get us some more blankets."

[letsperaltiago]

a merry little christmas

Welcome to (once again belated) door four of four! 

Behind my Christmas calendar’s fourth door is a... baby’s first christmas, pure fluff oneshot ♥️ 

Summary: It's Baby's First Christmas and Jake and Amy are taking it all in - both presents and tiny surprises from their son. Pure domestic fluff for days.

Rating: G

Words: 2.2k

Read on AO3 here

Right then and there keeping a straight face, or just anything that looks somewhat close to it, is beyond impossible.

It’s Christmas morning, six AM to be more precise, and the still rather new, little family of three is slowly making their way through the presents waiting for them under this years’ Christmas tree. As a matter of fact, it’s rather Jake opening gifts meanwhile Amy is on the couch with their two-month-old son eating his second breakfast - that is if his previous meal at three AM can be considered breakfast. Jake likes to call those meals Midnight Mac Snacks.

“They really need to communicate more,” Amy chuckles, which causes her chest to jolt just the tiniest bit, alas apparently enough that it earns her a grumpy little cry from Mac to which she immediately reacts by stroking and repositioning the tiny infant’s head. “No need to complain, Mr. Mac. Mommy and daddy are just having some fun.”

“He’s bitter because all he got for Christmas is ‘Baby’s first Christmas’-ornaments.” Jake hasn’t stopped laughing since he opened the third ornament, from auntie Roro, which came after uncle Charles’ ornament. Upon unpacking this second ornament, from Charles, matching the first ornament from Holt, it didn’t cause much worry. The new parents simply saw it as a matching coincidence and they’d just keep both. Although upon unpacking a third one, they should’ve known: it was a perfect, hilarious 99th precinct-disaster.

Fast forward to present time, Jake is sat on the living room floor with not three but six ‘Baby’s First Christmas’ ornaments for his son. Sure, they’re all different styles and designs but Jake can’t help but laugh. In retrospect, he and Amy had told the squad that baby Mac didn’t need anything grand for Christmas as he was still so small and had everything he needed so far. They told their friends to save the money and spoil Mac for next Christmas, a Christmas he’d understand much better than the current. Turns out great minds think alike and everyone’s creative take on Mac’s gift had been the same.

“It’s kind of cute that they all had the same idea.” Mac has gone back to quietly suckling on Amy’s breast, allowing her time to chime in on perhaps this Christmas’ funniest moment yet. It’s too soon to declare it the funniest as they’re headed to a huge Santiago Christmas-dinner in the evening and anything can happen there.

For Christmas morning though they very early on, already before Amy gave birth, decided to stay home as they knew it’s what they’d prefer with their very new son. Sitting there, in the moment, looking at gifts from their incredible friends and Mac quietly eating in the lights coming from the Christmas tree, they’re both thankful to have made that choice. Sure, Santiago-Christmas morning was an event that you didn’t want to miss out on but this year, with very few hours of sleep behind them and vomit on both clothes and hair, it’s nice to be able to soak in the sweet surrender of their little trinity.

“We do have the best friends.” He picks up the ornaments, hanging them on his fingers to put on display for his wife. “What do we do with these?” A sheepish smile replaces the goofy grin from before.

“I don’t know…”

The doubt on Amy’s face, biting her lip, thinking hard, is clear as day which is understandable since Jake himself doesn’t hold the answer for their little dilemma. Giving them back to their respective giver is not an option - what would Holt do with a ‘Baby’s First Christmas Ornament’? -  and getting a refund also seems too cold. Fact is that each of their friends has had the same idea: they wanted to mark and somehow be a part of Mac’s first Christmas. Jake and Amy can’t, nor want to, take that away from their son nor their friends. All in all, there seems to be no good solution but one: keep all six ornaments.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Jake cocks an eyebrow, implicitly suggesting what his wife is already thinking.

“If you’re thinking that we should keep them all and put them on the tree, then yes, I am thinking what you’re thinking.”

At just the right time, almost as if he’s agreeing, Mac lets go of his mom’s nipple before letting out a small, hazy gurgling sound. A sound he’s never made before. Both parents freeze on the spot, forgetting all and everything about the ornament-issue.

“Did you hear that?” Amy asks, making it sound as if she doesn’t believe her ears and a second opinion is needed. Having studied all and everything for her first child’s arrival, everything this could possibly imply, Amy shouldn’t be surprised that her two-month-old is finally introducing his first small noises. The fact resides very clearly on the Milestones to Expect-index, page 2, in her ‘Two month’-binder. Yet here she is, Jake right there with her, surprised by this new accomplishment of her newborn - one of many accomplishments that she both loves and, even two months in, still is a bit nervous about discovering as she just rather know her baby fully by heart already. On those occasions where Mac’s changing, something she swears happens daily, makes her feel uneasy as if she doesn’t know him at all, she holds onto Jake’s reasoning: Some tests can’t be studied for.

And no matter how much she hates that fact, Amy knows her husband is right and she does love him for reminding her whenever she happens to fall down a spiral of doubt and frantically tries to grasp for the control that lies within facts, books, and lists.

Jake jumps from his spot on the floor as if it were lava and falls into place beside her on the couch where he can hover over his incredible son.

“I did but I didn’t fully realize where it came from right away, but oh my gosh, Ames! Our son is a genius!”

“Perhaps… Or simply in accordance with average-”

“No, Amy - a genius! Like his parents.”

Her husband looking as if he could burst any second, a firecracker of sorts and there’s no stopping the explosion, Amy hurries to put down her before lifted shirt and places Mac against her shoulder. Here she hopes he can both burp and, hopefully, make another glorious sound for them to be proud of. Jake leans in as though he and Mac are to exchange secrets behind Amy’s back and the milk-drunk infant, unable to control a whole lot, waves around his arm and just so happens to grab Jake’s index finger. During these first two months of Mac’s life, this has happened a few times already, the first time being at the hospital which caused Jake to cry happy tears Still, every single time, Jake feels reaffirmed by the fact that creating this tiny human being is one of his best decisions ever - that and telling Amy Santiago that he wished something could happen between them - romantic stylez.

“C’mon, mister. Show daddy how you talk.” Jake coos even though the little man of the moment seems far from interested in or bothered by his parents’ admiration and swooning over his new talent. His mommy patting his back does feel good though, especially when it helps a burp escape and Jake, of course, has to laugh because Mac is truly and fiercely his son. “Now that’s talking!”

“Not what I had in mind but nice to know he’s burped.” Amy chimes in and replaces the soft patting with small loving strokes, hoping to soothe her boy to sleep as the next step in his ‘eat, burp, sleep’-routine - even if Amy wishes Mac would make another sound. Just to confirm that she wasn’t hallucinating before.

“Make a sound for mommy, baby. Just a tiny one.” Amy takes her turn cooing a plea but it happens to be very much in vain.

“Aaand he’s dozed off,” Jake chuckles quietly whilst using his thumb to caress the tiny fist still wrapped around his index fingers, a fist that doesn’t let go even though the owner is already fast asleep with a mix of drool and milk caught in the corner of the gaping mouth.

“That was fast.”

“I don’t blame him. Life is exhausting.” Jake is carefully pecking his son’s head covered by thing, soft, black hair and even though Mac on her shoulder blocks the view, Amy smiles and wonders how she got to lucky with these two boys.

“Bedtime?” Amy asks, expectant of confirmation of whether or not Mac is far enough gone to be moved without waking up and throwing a tantrum that’ll mean they’ll have to spend another half hour or so lulling him back to sleep.

“I sure wouldn’t mind. I did prepare breakfast though.” It comes out mid-yawn, proving Jake’s point further, as he nods his head in the direction of the pancakes, courtesy of Jake, and hot cocoa, courtesy of the local bakery that has blessed their lives by opening at five AM, waiting for them in the kitchen.

“Not you, silly. McClane. You and I are definitely having that delicious cocoa. The smell of it has been tempting me since I sat down to feed.”

They mostly call him Mac. Mac or a thousand other things like Mr. Mac, Magic Mac, baby, monkey - one time, macadamia nut - and the options are limitless and renewed every day. Jake doesn’t know for sure but this might be the reason why the full name McClane being said, the context being that it’s his son’s name, makes him feel butterflies in his belly.  Either that or because he still can’t believe they named their son that. Perhaps it’s a bit of both reasons.

“Still can’t believe you agreed to that name.”

“Must’ve been a moment of weakness for me. I was pregnant and delusional.”

Amy teases and proceeds to carefully remove sleeping Mac from his spot on her shoulder, relocating him to the safety of her cradling arms.

“Delusional from the incredible round of sexy timez we had just prior to picking his name.”

“Jake,” she scolds as if the sleeping baby, which doesn’t even grasp the concept of speaking yet, were to be scarred by their explicit flirting.

“What?”

Amy’s already up on her feet, heads down the hall and into their bedroom with Jake close on her heels.  “I remember it so vividly.” Jake points to their bed. “We were right here, post incredible sex, and we got talking about baby names because a new suggestion had stroked your mind right before I came in and wooed you with my good, amazingly hot looks.” Amy’s head whips around from where’s she’s just focused on placing Mac in his cradle, double-checking that he’s still asleep, now displaying a cocked brow and overall expression that challenges his recollections of that conclusive night. Defeat hits him and his shoulders drop with a sigh.

“Okay, you were seven months pregnant and going through a particularly horny phase - which I, by the way, loved - and I, being a dutiful husband, couldn’t decline your explicit requests. But I do still stand by the fact that I boinked my way to the name McClane.”

“Oh my god,” Amy groans, partly in reaction to her husband, partly in reaction to her sore back making an appearance when she straightens up from tugging in the baby. “Stop besmearing our child’s name. I can still change my mind.”

“I’m right though.” In the meantime, Jake has approached his wife and wraps his arms around her. Pulling her closer, back to chest, and she instantly relaxes under the pecks he places on her neck. “And it’s an amazing name for an amazing little human.”

They smile in unison as they admire the life they created, carelessly and contently sleeping Christmas morning away, before them. Wrapped up in her husband’s arms and their perfect little son to look at, a fuzzy feeling that is way beyond and greater than happiness flows through Amy’s veins. The pecks to her sweaty and tired-feeling skin pick back up where they left off, systematically and how he knows she likes it, going around her neck and shoulder-area.

“I really wanna give in to how inappropriately horny you’ve suddenly made me, but…” she trails off with a sigh.

“You can’t stop thinking about the hot cocoa.” He finishes her sentence and the pecks are replaced by a muffled chuckle that tickles her skin. “It’s okay, Ames. I’m right there with you.”

“Thank God,” she groans.

“Hot cocoa and a Christmas movie we can fall back asleep to?”

This suggestion of Jake’s that will allow Amy to give into her tiredness is what she’s wanted to hear all morning.

“Sounds perfect. Grab the baby monitor?” She turns around to follow him back to their kitchen only to see him already holding the gadget with a tired, knowing smile plastered across his face and to Amy, even with his messy curls and shirt clad with stains of baby-vomit, her husband looks absolutely perfect.

Baby’s First Christmas might just be her favorite Christmas so far.

[mithranqueersmusings]

5 Star Man I

Chapter: 1/3

Rating: E (Smut Warning)

Summary: Dennis has been gone for a long time, Mac misses him dearly and finds himself rooting through his old sex tapes.

Tags: Smut

Pairing: Mac/Dennis

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Mac didn't suppose he'd ever become adjusted to the newfound quietness of their apartment, or his apartment to be more accurate. Dennis leaving out of the blue like that had shocked them all, within a day or two they started to realise that it hadn't been some strange joke or scheme of some kind. As much as he didn't want to admit it, it hit Mac the hardest of all the gang. Their relationship had been complicated to say the least, never truly being defined or talked about properly, and this disappearance hadn't made things any clearer.

It was another solitary night for Mac, debating whether to actually do something productive with his evening or just slide into bed and hope for sleep to come. Most nights he'd just spent exercising, something in his mind wanted to believe that if he got into better shape somehow it would make Dennis come back. After weeks of hearing nothing, and having no way to contact Dennis after he misspelled a digit or two on the phone number he'd given to Mac, it didn't look like his best friend was ever going to return.

He was already fairly drunk, nothing too eventful was happening in the bar ever since Dennis' departure, and his head was beginning to ache. All the medication was always kept in Dennis' bedroom, Mac had questioned this a thousand times but only ever got strange and evasive answers, and even though Dennis was gone he hadn't moved any of his things around. Mac traipsed into Dennis' room, flicking on the light reluctantly and letting out a groan with the new pounding in his head. The main reason Mac thought Dennis was coming back some time soon was that he'd left all of his possessions behind; one or two things wouldn't have been suspicious but he'd left everything. Even some of his most prized possessions: his Steven Winwood CD collection, the RPG Mac had bought him for Valentine's Day and his expansive sex tape collection. The latter was definitely the most confusing, Dennis had spent years upon years creating those tapes and to leave them behind without any thought didn't sit right with Mac at all.

As he trudged over to where Dennis kept the medicine - there was so much in the drawer that Mac had never even heard of before, but he never questioned it - the tape collection caught his eye. He didn't feel like he was intruding, after all he'd sat with Dennis - and Charlie and Frank on occasion - and watched the tapes together, just like every ordinary group of guys do. Popping some pain killers into his mouth and swallowing, the dryness of his throat itched, Mac bent down and started rifling through the tapes. Even in today's world, Dennis still recorded them on VHS (something about the nostalgia of it all, he'd said), each of the title's scribbled in Sharpie alongside a star rating. Dennis took these ratings very seriously, and he rarely ever gave a girl a 5-star rating, as far as Mac knew he hadn't actually ever given one. Perhaps it was the boredom, or the alcohol, or the missing of Dennis that spurred Mac on to search through more of the tapes curiously in search for any that could boast a full rating.

Some of the names sparked memories for Mac, especially since he'd usually be in the apartment when Dennis would bring the girls home. He was careful taking them out of the box and laying them gently onto the floor, after all if Dennis did ever come back he didn't want to risk sending him off again because his tapes had gotten all smashed up. Tape after tape and not a single girl had impressed Dennis enough, which didn't surprise Mac at all, yet he continued to search as though he was somehow still connecting with Dennis through it all.

A countless number of tapes later and Mac considered giving up, he hadn't even gotten through half of them when his eyes suddenly light up; there was one! The excitement this caused Mac wasn't entirely justified, he knew that it was a little strange what he was doing, but he couldn't help it. This feeling shifted dramatically when Mac was able to bring the tape closer to read the name:

Dennis ★★★★★

Mac blinked dumbfounded. Was this some kind of strange coincidence? Surely there were no women in the world named Dennis, although Mac wasn't someone to go around judging the ridiculousness of people's names. But then what was it? Surely Dennis wouldn't have filmed one of just himself, the whole point of the tapes was to look back on his past conquests with pride, but then again he was never the most humble of people. Continuing to stare at it, Mac decided there was only one way to find out and that was to watch it.

The excitement of the whole ordeal was beginning to spread across his body, Mac told himself the erection growing in his pants was merely a side-effect of the alcohol, as he walked over to the VHS player and popped the tape in. Fumbling around for the remote desperately, Mac finally found it and settled down at the front of Dennis' untouched bed before turning the screen on.

Starting up, the video looked the same as all the other tapes with the all-too-familiar angle of the camera positioned towards the bed. Dennis was there, judging by the look of him the tape wasn't actually that old, which surprised Mac somewhat. The lighting in the room was low, a few candles lit around the space to help set a mood. Mac waited for a girl to show up as he heard Dennis saying something he couldn't quite make out, but no girl came into view. Mac shuffled uncomfortably on the bed, his pants were getting increasingly tighter, as he watched Dennis turn around to stare directly into the camera.

"Hello." He said in a low voice, one Mac had heard a thousand times before on these tapes, and even though he knew Dennis wasn't actually talking directly to him, it still felt that way.

Mac gulped as Dennis' fingers moved up to the buttons on his shirt, circling around them loosely before actually undoing them.

"I'm so glad you could join me." Dennis smirked slightly as the checked fabric slid off of his body and onto the floor fluidly "We can finally be alone together."

Mac raised an eyebrow subconsciously, this was only getting more confusing as it went on. Dennis had been known to talk to himself, even referring to himself in the third person sometimes, but making a sex tape of himself for himself was reaching a new level of narcissism, even for him. No matter how strange he thought it was, Mac couldn't deny that was completely enraptured by it and didn't think for even a second about turning it off. He'd seen Dennis naked countless times, but this felt more personal somehow, like it really was for him.

Next Dennis moved to work on his belt, slim fingers loosening the buckle and pulling the leather out until he held both ends in his hands; he gave it a quick pull and winked at the camera before tossing it carelessly onto the floor. Mac felt his mouth drying up as he eagerly watched Dennis' hands slide down to unbutton and unzip his jeans. The denim slid down his skin effortlessly, revealing that he was wearing no boxers underneath.

"You like what you see?" Dennis asked with a low chuckle, standing entirely naked in front of the camera unashamed.

Mac felt compelled to answer, as stupid as he knew that was. His own jeans were getting far too restrictive now, he had to loosen them just to relieve the pressure, that was all. Dennis took a few steps backwards then seated himself on the bed, sitting on his calves in a way which almost made him look delicate. Mac couldn't help his eyes fixating on the way Dennis' hard cock bounced as he adjusted his position. To think that Dennis was doing this on the very bed Mac was sat on now only spurred his excitement further, he idly brushed his thumb over his clothed erection and let out a quiet hiss at the much needed contact.

"God, you're so hard, aren't you?" Dennis' voice got softer as his hand slowly curled around his own erection "I think I can help with that."

"Shit..." Mac unintentionally whispered, Dennis' sultry words going straight to his cock.

"Why don't you take that hand and put it to good use?" Dennis let another quiet laugh, but his eyes were piercing "Just watch me."

Dennis began to follow his own words, slowly pumping his hand up and down his length, letting out a high-pitched moan which caused Mac to flutter his eyes shut. He wasn't exactly sure when he'd made the decision, but he'd hastily pulled out his hard cock and began touching himself too; following Dennis' rhythm closely.

"Feel good?" Dennis asked, his tongue poking out slightly to run across his top lip.

Mac found himself nodding slightly, his head was beyond hazy at this point.

"You look amazing." Dennis spoke in a whisper again as he began quickening his pace, throwing his head back gracefully as moans began to pour of his mouth.

Instantaneously, Mac followed suit and jerked himself faster, he'd awkwardly shuffled his jeans and boxers down to his ankles so that he could spread his legs more freely. His mouth was hanging open, low groans spilling uncontrollably as he watched Dennis slowly become undone. This was far from the first time he'd seen Dennis like this, but something was different this time; rather than watching Dennis dominate some random woman, instead Mac felt like he held the power this time and it was severely messing with his head. Dennis never submitted to anyone, in any situation whatsoever, so it naturally made sense that he'd only be submissive to himself. Mac knew he was never supposed to see this, that he was encroaching on Dennis' privacy, but he'd gone too far now and it felt far too good to stop.

"I feel so empty without you." Dennis moaned, his neck arched as he began thrusting into his hand "Need you to fill me up."

Mac felt himself sobering up as he watched Dennis' idle hand, that had been pressed loosely against his thigh, curl round behind him to pull his cheeks apart. His eyes widened dramatically, this certainly wasn't where he'd been expecting it to go. Mac didn't follow Dennis' actions this time, but he wasn't entirely sure why; after coming out he'd been no stranger to such activities, even though he'd never really done it himself. The sight of Dennis slowly pressing a finger into himself was incredibly mesmerising, Mac almost stopped altogether just to watch him.

"Fuck..." Dennis breathed out heavily, Mac couldn't exactly see what was going on behind him but judging from Dennis' expression he'd forced another finger inside.

Mac's hand grew more erratic and sloppy as he watched Dennis penetrate himself, he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to last. Dennis' eyes had been shut tightly for a while now, the raising of his eyebrows and soft sounds falling from his lips was the only indicator of how he was feeling. A third finger was hastily inserted, Mac could only tell because of the pained expression that quickly spread across Dennis' face but it soon melted into bliss as he too started to lose control.

"So big..." Dennis groaned, beginning to ramble "You're so fucking big."

The volume of his own moans shocked Mac, he'd never really allowed himself to come undone so freely in the apartment before through fear that Dennis would hear. Thinking about Dennis not being there distracted from the blissful feeling, Mac tried to shut it out and focus entirely on the display before him, as though Dennis were truly here.

"Getting close..." Dennis gasped, Mac wasn't entirely sure how many fingers he was thrusting inside at this point, his tousled hair sticking to his forehead in places "I'm gonna cum... I'm gonna cum for you."

Mac was almost over the edge at this point, if this had been any other porno he would've let go long before this but something inside him wanted to wait until Dennis was ready too, so that they could finish together. His wrist was beginning to ache, his lip bleeding where he'd bit into it deeply without even thinking. Dennis snapped his head forwards, his eyes opening once more as he stared deep into the camera with longing eyes.

"Are you ready?" Dennis' voice wavered slightly "I want to you to cum inside... I know you're close too, I can feel your cock throbbing inside me."

Mac was at his breaking point, he'd slowed down ridiculously just to try to stretch himself a little bit further but he could feel the wave of pleasure beginning to wash over him. Before he closed his eyes, he savoured the image of Dennis so wrecked and desperate, throwing his own head back as he managed to catch Dennis' final words.

"I'm gonna fucking cum!" Dennis almost shrieked "Cum inside me, please. Give me your cum, Mac."

Before he could even fully register what had been said, Mac was already too far gone as he felt himself stuttering and his vision departing completely. For a moment or two images flashed in his mind of Dennis riding his cock, kissing him deeply as they came. Falling back lazily onto the bed, his hand and stomach sticky, Mac lay there for a few moments debating whether he'd actually heard what he thought he had. Surely not. It was just one of those strange moments, that was all. By the time he felt ready to sit back up again, the tape had finished and the TV continued to hum quietly with the screen a faded grey. One thing Mac certainly wasn't going to do was think about the fact that he'd just touched himself too to a video of his best friend fingering his own arsehole, what good would that do? Instead, he kicked off his jeans and boxers and waddled off into the bathroom to clean himself up.

At least his headache was gone now, he thought as he splashed his face with water. There was nothing better to get you ready for bed then a good orgasm, Mac smiled to himself as he slunk into his own room and fished around for a relatively clean pair of boxers to wear to bed. Since Dennis had left, his overall togetherness of life had doubtlessly decreased, but as long as he never descended to Charlie and Frank's level, Mac didn't see what the problem was. He threw off his shirt into a corner of the room and was able to clamber into bed before he heard a sound: the front door opening. Mac scoffed and rolled his eyes, it wasn't unlike the gang to barge in so late at night but he certainly wasn't in the mood for it right now. He debated pretending to be asleep, but it didn't take long for him to realise that it would've been pointless. Letting out a huff, he stomped over to his bedroom door and threw it open, sticking his head out in anticipation of finding some strange events unfolding in his living room, but instead the gang wasn't there at all.

"Hey, buddy!" A voice called out excitedly, it was Dennis.

Mac was flabbergasted, still grasping onto the doorknob as he stared at Dennis in alarm.

"You alright? Didn't give you a scare, did I?" Dennis asked with a grin, he'd thrown his keys onto the coffee table like everything was normal.

"Dennis?" Mac finally asked, taking a couple of steps into the living room to get a better look at him (was he dreaming again?) "What are you doing here?"

Dennis let out a hearty laugh "What am I doing in my apartment? Well, living, for a start." He gave Mac a confused look before turning to face his room "You been in here?"

Mac felt his heart sink, granted he probably should've cleaned up in there - at least turned the light off - but Dennis was the last person he'd expected to see tonight.

"Uh..." Mac hurried over to Dennis who was walking back into his room casually "No, no I-"

"Oh... I see." Dennis tutted sarcastically "Been going through my tapes, again? Can't really blame you, there's some pretty good stuff on these. So who'd you go for? Brittany, Ellie? Ooh, what about Stacey, that one's a classic!"

Mac began to panic, his brain could hardly think of a coherent thought let alone figure out some kind of excuse. This had to be a dream, a nightmare would be more accurate, as he watched Dennis eject the tape from the player and hold the VHS in his hand.

Silence.

Dennis stared at the tape, all the joy that had been on his face wiped away in an instant as Mac stood there feeling his face heating up in complete and utter shame. After what felt like a lifetime, Dennis finally looked back up to Mac and though he was trying to mask what he was truly feeling, Mac could see right through it.

"You watched this?" Dennis asked, his voice had gone cold.

Mac's eyebrows knitted together, he began biting his lip again nervously "Dennis, look-"

Dennis' eyes began to scan around the room, fixating on the bed which was ruffled and dirtied "You touched yourself, to this?"

If only he could wake up from whatever hell this was. Mac scrambled for something to say, anything, but when he opened his mouth nothing came out. Dennis' face shifted again, the anger melting away into something softer yet still somewhat sinister.

"What did you think?" Dennis began to smirk, the exact same one Mac had seen on the tape.

[ghostcatdraws]

you have (1) new message

“I don’t believe in you!”

“I believe in you…”

You can’t help but snort, bursting into a fresh round of giggles. The dialogue in Nightmare on Elm Street is absolutely diabolical-- you struggle to figure out how anybody could consider this a horror movie. But hey… meteoric fame is hard to come by. It’s a cult classic for a reason. 

You’d usually be marathoning classic slasher flicks with your roommate, Chloe, but she’s on a month-long Hawaii dream vacation with her new boyfriend. What happened to bros before hoes? But hey, his wealth is apparently abundant enough to fund weeks of paradise beachside living, so good for her for getting that bread. And anyway, you’re content to sit alone in your little mousehole apartment and melt into the couch after work with a family-size bag of salt & vinegar chips under your arm. 

You watch the flickering screen with mild interest as you chomp down another handful of chips. Freddy Krueger is definitely failing to get you on the edge of your seat. Wiping your hand on your sweatpants, you pick up the remote and turn the movie off. 

“Nightmare, my ass.” you mutter under your breath. 

As much as you’d like to, eating nothing but salt and vinegar chips for dinner seems like a great way to end up with an upset stomach and a lot of regret later tonight. The pantry is well stocked with Chloe’s foods of choice-- organic steel-cut rolled oats, a billion different kinds of nuts and seeds all in cute little labeled mason jars, gluten free bread, a mockery of cheese puffs (chickpea puffs? Come on!). Your side is a library of boxed or canned foods in stark contrast: a couple opened boxes of Pop-Tarts, a few boxes of Kraft mac & cheese, a family sized box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and, the only thing not in a box: another bag of salt & vinegar chips. 

The fridge tells a similar story. Chloe’s avocados, farmer’s market tomatoes, and thick stalks of celery gleam in the vegetable drawer. She’s consumed half the shelf space with just kombucha and a few swanky craft beers. And bottles of oat milk, or soy milk, or some kind of thing pretending to be milk. You actually don’t have much in the fridge besides leftover Indian food from your favorite place downtown and a gallon of milk for your cereal, so you don’t mind her hogging more space. 

Muffy, Chloe’s ragdoll cat, stalks into the kitchen with you and gives you a tiny yowl. You lean down and give her an affectionate scratch behind the ears. 

“Scram, Muffy.” you murmur to her. “I’ve already fed you.” 

She looks up at you with a look that can only mean “and you’ll feed me more.” 

She stalks back into the living room, fluffy beige tail disappearing behind the wall in a flick and a wave. You tie your hair back and yawn. What’s on the menu for dinner tonight? 

Before you can think too much about eating, you remember that Chloe left you a voicemail before she took off. You fish your phone from your pocket and open your voicemail, tapping your toe against the linoleum floor as the dial tone plays. 

You have one new message, chirps the robot voice of your mailbox. 

“Hey girl. I’m boarding soon, so you probably won’t hear from me for a while. Make sure you feed Muffy, water the plants…” she clicks her tongue a few times, “take your meds, and don’t lay in bed for too long on the weekends. You know how that tanks your mood.” 

Chloe might be a total hipster health nut, but it doesn’t make it any less sweet that she frets over you so much. You break into a smile and make a mental note to call her back. 

“And. You can eat anything perishable of mine in the fridge or pantry while I’m gone. I doubt the bread or the veggies are gonna last long… you need to eat healthier anyway. No potato chips for dinner.” 

Your smile grows. She knows you so well. 

“I gotta go, but I’ll send you tons of pictures when I get there. Bye, babe.” 

You hang up and set your phone down on the counter. Eyeing the bland looking loaf of brown bread, you decide you’ll have breakfast a la Chloe for dinner. 

You toss the loaf onto the counter, then stalk to the fridge. The avocados seem pretty ripe. Tomatoes, too. You pick out one of each, then pluck a couple eggs from the carton you two share and set it all on the counter. Avocado toast with scrambled eggs sounds pretty Chloe. 

You gut the avocado, tossing its pit in the trash and scooping its innards out into a bowl. The fork makes quick work of it, turning it into a mound of mild green paste. Salt, pepper. Done. 

Hey, if Chloe let you eat her food, she’s bound to not mind that you’re using her nice kitchen knives too, right? You cut a few slices of tomato and grimace at its gelatinous, glistening center. You never liked tomatoes much, but she’s kinda right-- you do need to improve your diet. 

Before long, you’ve got a nice thick slice of toast slathered in avocado and garnished with ripe red tomato sitting next to a steaming pile of scrambled eggs. This may not be your beloved salt & vinegar chips, but it sure looks delicious. 

You snap a photo of your meal and text it to her. Am I healthy yet? you type, with a grin on your face. 

Muffy stalks up to you, looking up expectantly. You sigh and toss her a morsel of scrambled egg. “That’s all you’re getting, you little twerp.” you admonish through a mouthful of toast. It’s not… delicious, but it’s not bad for some mushed up vegetable on top of an excuse for bread. You curse yourself for not adding some cheese to your scrambled eggs. That would’ve really been delicious. 

You’d usually be scrolling through your social media right now, but something inspires you to look longingly out the window of the kitchen. The sky is a starless, inky black, obscuring everything except for whatever is illuminated by the weak orange streetlights. Usually there would be more traffic or drunk yelling-- you and Chloe didn’t exactly get lucky with the placement of your unit-- but tonight it’s eerily silent. That’s perfectly welcome to you, though. It’s much better than cranking up the volume of your music to drown out whatever street fight is occurring three floors below you. 

Suddenly, your musing and its silence is broken by the sound of your ringtone. It’s half past midnight… who in their right mind would be calling you right now? 

Unknown number. You frown and let it go to voicemail. Probably just some spam caller. 

You finish your dinner and sit there in the silence, then check your phone again. You can’t help but be curious as to what message they’ve left you. Gingerly, you open your voice mailbox again and listen dispassionately to the dial tone and the little robot voice. 

You have one new message and one old message. 

The voice that erupts through your speaker is unfamiliar, smooth, low. All you can discern is that it’s a male voice, its tone almost perversely cloying. 

“I was hoping you’d pick up.” A long inhale, a long exhale. “You seem a little lonely. Breakfast for dinner… cute.” 

Ice cold horror washes over you and you can barely move your fingers to hang up. This has to be some kind of joke. Some stupid kid getting really, really lucky with their prank call. 

But a question still sears into your thoughts:

Who would have known what you were doing? 

That you were alone in your apartment? 

Maybe, just maybe, by some insane stretch of the imagination, Chloe’s new boyfriend got ahold of her phone, saw your text, and decided to pull some prank. Yeah, that sounds about right. That’s the only situation that makes sense, unless… 

Somebody is watching you.  

You nearly jump out of your seat as the phone rings again. Unknown number. Your hands tremble over it as your panicked brain deliberates picking it up. Before you can think about it any more, you’ve snatched it into a sweaty palm and brought it up to your ear. 

“Chloe, this isn’t fucking funny. Cut it out.” you try to sound intimidating, but your voice trembles in just the wrong way with each word. 

“You picked up.” the voice breathes, and you swear you can hear a sinister smile creep onto whoever’s face it belongs to. “You must really be lonely.” 

“I said stop, Chlo--”

“My name’s not Chloe.” he snarls, and your empty threat dies in your throat immediately. Then, as if nothing had happened at all, his voice slips back into that relaxed, amused tone. “But I do wish I were spending a month in Hawaii right now. Lucky girl, isn’t she?” 

Another pang of fear hits you like a brick. You swallow hard, biting your lip. “Whoever you are, leave me alone. Or I’ll… I’ll call the cops.” 

“What exactly are you going to tell them, sweetheart? That some big mean boogeyman is leaving scary messages on your phone?” he lets out a mocking laugh. “They’ll send their best officers, I’m sure.”

“Leave me alone.” is all you manage to say, breathless and trembling, before you force yourself to hang up and practically slam your phone down onto the counter. Muffy jumps and cocks her head at you. You force yourself to break out of your panicked stupor and hurry over to the kitchen window, glancing hurriedly to the left and right of it. If somebody were on the fire escape, you surely would have heard it. 

At least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

You yank those curtains shut, then the curtains on the living room window, then finally the ones in your bedroom. You remember Chloe locking and shutting her windows, so there’s no need to check in there. Something tells you to anyway.

You creep to her doorway, palms sweaty. There’s probably nothing to see in there, you think to yourself, the curtains were already shut. 

Looking into her room, your stomach drops. 

The curtains are tucked neatly to the side, and her window is cranked all the way open, letting in the cool night air and the sounds of the streets. You nearly choke in horror and rush over to shut the window, making sure the lock is tightly down before throwing the curtains back over them. You must have just misremembered. She probably left the window open to let some fresh air in, or something.

But she never leaves her window open, or Muffy would get out, you realize. 

“Oh my God.” you gasp to yourself, before you sprint to the kitchen and grab the biggest, meanest looking knife in the drawer, as well as your phone. Muffy meows at you curiously, then yelps in indignance as you swiftly scoop her up by the stomach and fly to your room. 

“Sorry.” you mutter as you practically toss her onto your bed, then lock your door. It’s a pathetic, flimsy mechanism, and could probably be picked with a fork, but it’s better than nothing. You pause, surveying the room for any heavy objects, and settle on jamming your full laundry hamper under the doorknob. At least this way you’ll hear any intruder before they make it into your room. The knife you tuck under your pillow as you scramble under your covers and turn your lamp off. 

Your hands shake as you dial Chloe’s number. The phone rings once, twice, then goes straight to voicemail.

“Hey, Chlo,” you say shakily. “Uhm, I got some really weird calls from somebody tonight and I think our apartment might have been broken into. Or something. Uh,” you swallow hard, “Muffy and I are locked up in my room right now and I have a knife. I could be just imagining things, but if you don’t hear from me for a while, I probably got murdered or something.”

God, you sound so stupid right now, but it’s the best you can muster when your thoughts are racing at a million miles an hour. 

“I’ll call you when I wake up tomorrow. Bye.” 

You plug your phone in and set it on your nightstand, shrinking down underneath your duvet. Nothing is visible in your room, even as your eyes adjust to the darkness, except for the glow of the hall light you left on under your door. 

It’s going to be a long night. 

Check out this story and the rest of its chapters on AO3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28688007/chapters/70331253

[areiton]

call & come (send up an SOS)

Read on AO3

~*~ 

1.

Rhodey gets the call in the middle of a date. 

Well. 

Not the middle. 

Rhodey gets the call when her mouth is around his dick, his balls tight and aching. Blonde hair is caught in his fist and she’s got a gleam in her pretty blue eyes, as he fucks her wet hot mouth, and he’s gonna come, jesus christ and--

His pager goes off. 

Carol comes off his dick with a wet pop and smirks at him. “You wanna get that?” She licks her lips and uses her hand to jack him off. 

She’s got these callouses on her hand from the joystick of her bird, and they drag over his cock in the most delicious of ways. 

“No,” he pants, and she laughs, and moves to take him back in her mouth, and he catches her by the jaw, pulls her up and kisses her, licks the taste of himself out of her mouth and pinches her nipple just to hear the growly little moan she gives up. 

“But I gotta,” he adds. 

He swipes it up, and three little letters blink up at him. 

SOS. 

He sighs, and glances at Carol. She’s sprawled against her sheets, a hand on her cunt and his mouth waters at the sight. 

The pager goes off again and he says, “Got a phone I can borrow, gorgeous?” 

~~ 

He scowls up at a fucking frat house. 

It’s a goddamn frat house, didn’t they outgrow this shit? 

He scowls, and it’s only a little bit because he left Carol biting her orgasm into her arm while his cock ached against his jeans. 

Most of it’s because Tony went to a goddamn frat house. 

He finds Tony quick. It used to surprise him, how he could always find Tony, like a compass pointing north. Now--now it’s just a skill he’s grateful for and let’s it pull him through the party to where Tony is holding court, surrounded by twenty undergrads who look like this might be the first time they’ve ventured out of the labs. He’s perched on a blond giant's lap, and there’s something frenetic about the way he’s moving, his words starting to slur. 

Rhodey once watched Tony defend a PhD thesis, drunk and running on two hours of sleep in seventy two. 

He doesn’t fucking slur. 

Rhodey’s gaze narrows on the hand on Tony’s waist, the way it’s too tight and holding him in place and he bites back a snarl that wants to rip out. 

He’s horny and his best friend is being manhandled and drugged by a fucking frat boy. 

“Honeybear!” Tony crows, and gives a happy little bounce in his new friend’s lap. Rhodey reaches for him, and--

Tony scrambles free and into Rhodey’s arms, tucking himself against Rhodey’s side like he belongs there, a smile brighter than the sun tilted up at him. 

“You’re drunk,” Rhodey says, patient. “Time to go home.” 

Tony grins and let’s himself be guided out of the fucking frat house and Rhodey has a moment, watching a pair of girls making out against the wall, where he regrets it, the way he left Carol, the way he’s still horny and annoyed. 

But Tony called. 

And he came. 

“You smell like sex, Rhodes,” Tony complains, and Rhodey growls, and drags him home. 

~~ 

2.

He's asleep when the pager buzzes. 

He only notices because it's tucked under his arm, near the pillow, and it sends him scrambling across the bed to get away from it, cursing and rubbing his arm. 

"What the fuck, what the fuck," he grumbles, and the damn thing buzzes again. 

It was his idea, is the thing. 

Tony was a walking disaster, and underage to boot, a messy twink with enough money to buy anyone's affections and Rhodey--

Rhodey took one week to realize that was the worst idea in a whole long list of bad ideas. He bought the shitty pagers and tossed one to Tony, and said, "If you need a rescue or a pick up or anything--send me an SOS." 

"I don't need you to play white knight, honeybear," Tony said, curiously staring at it and him. 

"I know you don't," Rhodey told him, even though he did. "But I want you to have that option. If you need help--" 

"Send up an SOS," Tony echoed. 

The thing is--Tony didn't ask for help. Not when he was drowning in assignments and SI work, not when his mom dragged him away from campus for a week in Tuscany, not when he got caught with coke on him at a party or when a boyfriend got too handsy. 

So Rhodey gave him the pager and prayed Tony would use it in emergencies. 

The first call was startling, and terrifying, and Tony had blinked at him over three boxes of donuts, seemingly as startled as Rhodey was that he'd used the damn thing, or maybe that Rhodey responded. 

It was never serious. 

But Rhodey always answered. 

He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, looking at the address that popped up and sighing. 

Studying would have to wait. 

~~ 

It takes him less than thirty minutes to dress and make his way across campus to the address, and he blinks at it blearily. It's a restaurant. 

A nice one. 

He groans, and wishes fervently for coffee before fixing a polite smile on his face and pushing inside. 

He sees Tony right away, sprawled messy and far too casual, across from Howard. 

He bites down on his curse, and scoots around the hostess busy with a nice white couple and approaches. Tony's gaze flicks to him, and his eyes brighten. "Rhodey!" he crows. 

"Hey, man. Did you forget we've got that lab this morning?" 

"Shit-" Tony breathes, jerking in his seat. His coffee sloshes and it's too creamy and sweet, but Rhodey eyes it anyway. "I gotta--Howard, I have--" 

"Go," Howard grumbles. "God knows you aren't actually listening to me." 

"Board meeting on the 3rd, new patents pending, rework the Icarus propulsion tech. Mom has a charity thing the 5th she wants me to attend. Anything else?" Tony asks, sweetly, but his smile has teeth. Rhodey huffs, reaches across the table, snagging bacon from Tony’s plate, and it makes the tension rising between father and son break. 

And there's bacon. 

"I'll see you the 3rd," Howard says and Tony tosses off a sloppy salute as he slides out of the booth and Rhodey crunches on his stolen bacon. 

"Let's go, Rhodey, wouldn't want to be late." 

Rhodey nods at Howard and follows Tony from the restaurant and back toward their apartment, and it's only when Tony sighs and the tension drains out of his shoulders does he bump his best friend companionably and say, plaintive, "But you're buying me breakfast, right?" 

Tony laughs, and it's star bright and happy. 

~~

3. 

Pepper's eyes narrow when she sees Rhodey in Tony's office. It's rare enough that anyone is there that he had to wipe a thin layer of dust from the top of Tony's desk. 

He's settling in real well as CEO, then. 

"You do not get to rescue him today," she almost hisses and Rhodey smile, all innocent and beatific. 

"I'm just here to see a friend," he says, spreading his hands. 

She snorts, patently disbelieving, and yeah, ok, that's fair. Rhodey's leave never comes as coincident, and for it to run smack into one of Tony's few visits to the East Coast and the quarterly stock meeting--well. 

He's only surprised that he hasn't been called yet. 

"When did it get started?" she asks, and Rhodey blinks at Pepper. She's been part of Tony's life, making sure it spins properly, for almost three years now, longer than anyone but Happy and himself, and it startles him that she doesn't know the origin of the SOS. 

"College," he says. Shrugs. "Tony was always gettin' himself into trouble. I couldn't babysit constantly, so I got us these pagers." He grins down at the clunky thing. Tony hates it but Rhodey refused to let him upgrade. "Told him that if he ever needed me, all he needed to do was call." 

"And he actually did?" she says, skeptical, and Rhodey grins. 

It took six months for Tony to start using the damn things, and then he used them almost obsessively. It was almost a game. 

He missed it, the calls for coffee, the time he and DUM-E got super-glued together, the petulant frown on Tony's face when he burnt his last box of mac and cheese. 

"Have you ever missed one?" she asks, and Rhodey blinks at her. 

"Of course not," he says, and Pepper's eyes narrow, her mouth opens--

And the pager goes off. 

Rhodey smirks and waves the little black box at her. "Duty calls, Pep," he drawls, and pushes himself out of Tony's desk chair, where he's been lounging like he belongs there, and strolls out of the office. 

She sees him a few minutes later, one arm around Tony's shoulders, the younger man talking animatedly while Rhodey steers him effortlessly toward the elevators. 

She watches them and wonders if either of them can see what she can. 

The fond smile on Rhodey's lips, the eager light in Tony's eyes, the way they tipped toward each other, the way they didn't seem aware of the world around them. 

She sighs as the elevator slides closed behind them, and straightens the files she prepared for this eventuality, and squares her shoulders, stalking into the conference room to finish the Board meeting. 

Rhodey, she thinks, ruefully, isn't the only one who comes so readily to Tony's rescue. 

~~ 

4.

"Sir, you can't come in dressed like that," the maitre d says, a little desperately. 

Rhodey spares her a second glance and the true this--he feels a little guilty. He's in a pair of sweatpants he stole from Tony, SI logo plastered down the leg. A faded, too thing MIT t shirt with holes in the collar. 

He was comfortable, reading a book Happy had suggested because for all that Tony liked to give Happy shit for his taste in TV and literature, the man had only ever passed on books that Rhodey enjoyed. 

He was comfortable, two beers into his evening and happy to spend it relaxed, when he got the call. 

Tony called. 

Rhodey came. 

Didn't mean he was gonna change out of his sweat pants to do it. 

"I just need to grab something," he says, flashing a smile, all the cocky self-assured ego that Tony had taught him. 

It works, and he finds Tony tucked into a corner of the restaurant, a bored expression on his face as he sits across from a gorgeous blonde. 

"Tones," he says and smiles at Tony's friend. She is pretty. 

Nice rack too. 

From the confused little furrow in her brow and the blank look on Tony's, Rhodey thinks she probably has a bigger bra size than IQ. "I'm gonna need to borrow him, darling," he says. 

"Oh, are you going?" 

"National security," Tony nod sagely, and Rhodey rolls his eyes, and drags the smaller man out of the damn five-star restaurant. 

They take a shitty cab back to Rhodey's apartment without really talking about it and Tony strips down to a Air Force tshirt he steals from Rhodey's dresser and plaid pajama pants that puddle over his bare feet before curling against Rhodey's side and stealing his beer.

"Want me to order pizza?" Rhodey asks. 

"Chinese?" Tony says, hopefully, and Rhodey rumbles a laugh, adjust to the weight of the other man against his side and reaching for his phone. 

"She wasn't bad," Tony says, after he's ordered and Rhodey is reading again, one hand drifting through Tony's hair. He's laying quiet against Rhodey's side, uncharacteristically quiet, and the small admission draws Rhodey's gaze. "She was just--" 

"Not smart?" 

Tony nods, miserably and Rhodey sighs. "Why do it then? Why date the ones you know aren't smart enough to keep up with you?" 

"No one can keep up with me," Tony says, and he sounds so forlorn, so lonely, it makes Rhodey's chest hurt. 

"I can," he says, without thinking and Tony's gaze flicks up, wide and startled. Too open. It makes something in his chest go tight and aching and he smiles, a quick teasing thing. "If I can, you can find someone else who will." 

Tony grins and the moment slips past, but it doesn't go away, as they eat Chinese, as Tony sips his beer and listens to Rhodey read to him, as they curl together in Rhodey's big bed, and the darkness. 

He can't stop seeing the hope, copper bright and shining, in Tony's eyes. 

~~ 

5.

The thing is. 

The thing is, he’s been with Tony now--best friend, brother, keeper, something--for almost than he hasn’t. Tony is as much as much a part of him as his mama, as much as his uniform and his duty, and he can’t imagine a life where he doesn’t answer, when Tony calls. 

He can’t imagine who he’d be, if he weren’t the other half of Stark & Rhodes, of Tones & Rhodey. 

He doesn’t even want to imagine it. 

He does, however, wish he could sleep a whole night through, sometimes. 

He glares blearily at the phone that replaced the beeper two years ago, when Tony’s finally died and couldn’t be revived. 

Tony will never admit it, but Rhodey’s pretty sure even he misses the clunky relics of their childhood. 

The phone flashes, red and white, SOS bright in the dark and he thinks, just for a moment, of not answering. 

Of calling or sending Pepper or Happy or just pretending he hadn’t gotten it. 

He yawns, hard enough his jaw cracks, and crawls out of bed. 

~~ 

He pulls up to the club and send a text because he loves Tony, he does, he’ll chase him down and rescue him even in the dead of night, but there’s a limit and they are closer to forty now than thirty, and he’s not dragging him out of a club. 

He send the same text to Happy, and then slouches in his seat, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. 

It takes less than ten minutes, which might be a new record, before Tony is crawling into the passenger side of the truck. He smells of booze and sex, and Rhodey arches an eyebrow and Tony shakes his head. “Not mine.” 

Rhodey makes a quiet noise, and pulls into traffic. Tony is quiet at his side, long enough that Rhodey finally glances at him, and he’s a little surprised to see Tony watching him. He’s quiet, and there’s eyeliner smeared under his eyes, making them larger than normal, and he’s still. 

“You ok?” Rhodey asks, softly and Tony smiles. 

It’s a tiny smile, familiar and sweet,and it makes him ache, because that smile is his. 

Shy and boyish and so real it almost hurts. 

“Why do you come rescue me? I’m not an idiot child at MIT anymore, honeybear,” Tony says. 

“Why do you still call? You don’t need me to rescue you,” Rhodey answers, and Tony laughs. 

He reaches out, tangles their fingers together and squeezes. And even after twenty years of sharing space and life, Tony’s casual way of touching makes his heart flip and plunge and soar. 

“I’ll always need you to rescue me,” Tony murmurs. 

Rhodey squeezes his hand, and they lapse back into silence. And then, coaxing and sweet, Tony says, “Will you buy me donuts?” 

Rhodey laughs. 

~~ 

+1

 His fingers rub over his phone, compulsively. Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. 

It’s been eighty-eight days. 

~~ 

At first, he’d tapped it on his leg, while he lay in a medic’s gurney, and demanded to know what the hell happened, demanded to know where Tony was. 

No one answered, and his phone was trashed, and by the time he had one again--they’d told him.

A bombing. 

Mass casualties. 

Tony Stark, missing. Presumed dead. 

Rhodey threw a fit, when they said that, a screaming raging thing that ended with him strapped back to his goddamn gurney, a needle in his arm. 

“You’ll hurt yourself,” someone said. 

He fucking hoped. 

~~ 

He stares at the night sky and he stares at the bunk above him, and he stares at the blank sky outside his plane window and the desert beyond the helicopter and the wide open sky that he’s always loved and hates now. 

Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. 

~~ 

“I heard you’re still looking,” Stane said, and Rhodey stared at him, blank and unemotional. 

The older man--Tony’s partner, Tony’s godfather, Tony’s but not Tony--smiles, oil slick and cold. “You can’t keep looking, Rhodes. There’s nothing to find.” 

Rhodey smiled, regulation sharp and precise and empty. “Sir.” 

“You’re still looking,” Pepper said, and Rhodey stared at her. Tony’s friend, red-eyed and barely held together, and he squeezed her hand. 

“Don’t stop,” she said, fiercely. 

“Ma’am,” he breathed. 

~~ 

The dust stings his eyes, and he wants to close them and he wants to scream, and he wants--

Tony. He wants Tony. 

The phone is quiet in his hand, a dead talisman. Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. 

~~ 

“You keep chasing a ghost, you’ll throw away your career,” his CO warned him and Rhodey stared into the middle distance. 

“Are you ordering me to stand down?” he asked. 

“Would you listen, if I did?” 

Twenty years and a thousand SOS calls, a thousand rescues when Tony never once needed him, and now--

His phone was quiet and still and his jaw clenched. “No, sir.” 

~~ 

“Colonel,” someone shouts, and Rhodey watches a patch of mountains explode on the radar and his heart squeezes. 

Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. 

~~ 

He didn’t sleep. 

He didn’t sleep because when he slept, he dreamt, and Tony wasn’t missing there, he was dead, a bloody broken body with so many others, and Rhodey was too late, an unanswered call. 

He didn’t sleep. 

He just hoped.

~~ 

The helicopter blades thrum and all he can hear is taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. 

They bank and search and all he can feel is taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. 

“Sir!” 

He falls out of the copter and into the sand, stumbling, and his heart goes taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. 

~~ 

Tony clutches him, sobbing silent, and his fingers dig into Rhodey’s fatigues, into his skin, and Rhodey holds him close, presses Tony’s head to his chest, and feels it. 

Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. 

He bites back his sob, and tightens his grip. 

“I’ve got you,” he breathes into filthy hair, into Tony, lips brushing over his temple. 

~~ 

Rhodey holds him, when Tony falls asleep against his chest in the chopper, heartbeat steady under his skin, and the rhythmic tapping fades away. 

He’s here. 

He’s safe. 

He’s home. 

[bibliothesoph]

anamnesis

There’s a lake.

The water is so light that it looks like the sky on a clear day––the sun reflecting off its surface in perfect, beautiful, golden lines. It’s truly a gorgeous thing to look at, but a problem if you get closer. Everyone knows about the lake––it’s been here since the dawn of time. Lining the lake are rocks––small and smooth. You can pick them up in your hand, turn them over a few times if you’d like. For most people, it’s a fun excursion. They go to the lake and look at the rocks or, more specifically, the writing on them. Because this lake––this gorgeous lake––is where people go to forget. They write something down on a rock––something truly horrible; the worst thing they’ve endured––and they throw it beneath the glistening surface. The lake swallows the memory whole, taking it down to the sandy bottom and letting it sit there for a while. When you wake up the next morning, you’ve completely forgotten both going to the lake and the memory attached to the rock you threw.

And that’s just how it goes.

Henry’s never been to the lake, but he’s going for the first time with Bea and Pez to look at other people’s memories––to see what they’ve wanted to forget. Some of them are quite silly, he thinks, because they seem so easy to live with. One of them is some night someone got drunk and tried to hit on a police officer. Laughable, really. Some of them are much darker, though. Things of nightmares.

They sit on the rocky shore and pass a few interesting ones between them, laughing or frowning given the writing upon them.

“Some of these are ridiculous,” Henry sighs, passing one to Bea. It’s something about eating five Big Macs in a row and throwing up on their date.

Bea looks at the rock and giggles. “Well, I don’t know. How brilliant would it be if we could forget each embarrassing moment or decision?” She frowns and grows silent for a moment before setting the rock down and taking Henry’s hand in her own. “I know there’s a lot I’d like to forget.”

He nods in understanding and squeezes her hand. “I think all the bad things help us grow, don’t you? All these stupid, trivial embarrassments help us from making the same bad choices over and over again.”

Pez nods in agreement as Henry, with his free hand, rummages around for the next rock. He picks it up in his hand and turns it over to read the writing, but…

His breath hitches in his throat. It’s his handwriting. It’s very clearly his handwriting.

“What is it, Hen?” Pez asks, cocking his head to the side to try to see what Henry’s holding.

Henry closes his eyes and closes his hand around the stone, trying to recall what would have made him write this down. He can’t recall this, obviously, since he’s very clearly the one who wrote it and threw it in here. That’s the whole point.

“It’s mine,” he whispers, opening his eyes. He looks down at it again, truly puzzled. “I don’t––I don’t understand.”

Bea frowns and holds out her hand. He places the stone into her palm, holding his breath as she reads it. Her eyes grow wide as she takes it in. “Henry––”

“Did you know? Surely you knew,” Henry says, taking the stone back. It feels wrong to let her hold it for some reason. And he knows that he can’t get the memories back by simply holding the stone in his hand––that’s not how it works––but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least try.

“I wondered why you stopped talking about him,” Pez says.

Henry looks over at him. “What? And you didn’t think that maybe I had been a proper idiot, come here, and just got my memories of him erased? You thought I just––“ he takes a deep breath. “Sorry, that’s not fair of me. It’s––why did I write this? What does it matter?”

Bea and Pez look to each other for a moment, obviously wondering if they should tell him what they know.

“Come off it,” Henry says, “if I don’t like what I hear, I can just do it again. It obviously worked the first time.”

Bea sighs and wraps her arms around him, holding him close and running her fingers through his hair. “I don’t know why you did it,” she tells him. “But I know that it’s true. It was true for years.”

He takes in a shaky breath and wills his mind to simply recall the memories––to access them from the deepest parts of himself that he’s apparently locked away. It doesn’t work. “It’s probably because he hates me,” Henry says, knowing that it’s true. “And maybe I…maybe I couldn’t live with it knowing that?”

Pez comes round his other side and holds him, too. “That’s not it,” he says softly. “I think it’s because he loved you.”

Henry bolts upright and away from both of them, getting to his feet and looking down at them with wide eyes and an open mouth. “What? You––he––I don’t understand.”

“You were…well, dating isn’t quite the right word for it, but you were something,” Bea explains. “Then you went away to his lake house for the weekend, came back, and never spoke of him again. Not in the same way, at least.”

He looks down at the stone again, at the words he apparently wrote in hopes to forget. The memory that was so painful for him that he threw it into the lake because it would make him forget it entirely.

Loving Alexander Claremont-Diaz.

“How old was I?” he whispers. “When I wrote this? When I went to his lake house?”

“It was two years ago,” Pez tells him.

Henry closes his eyes and tries to remember two years ago––tries to recall any sort of information that could be helpful. “The cake,” he says. “We had that fake friendship that lasted about a year before the world moved on.”

Bea shakes her head. There are tears in her eyes now, though Henry isn’t quite sure why. “It was more than that. So much more. You two were––you were happy, Henry. Happier than I’d ever seen you.”

He can’t process this. The words don’t quite make sense to him. If he loved Alex and Alex loved him back, why would he want to forget? Love has been something he’s yearned for his entire life––something he’s desperately sought out. If he finally had it within his grasp, why would he come here? What was so bad about Alex that made him want to forget? It doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t seem right.

He recalls, vaguely, a stream of peculiar texts from Alex from roughly two years ago. They hadn’t made sense to him then which was why he had told Alex to stop texting him. They were cruel things––things about Henry ignoring him and running away, but he hadn’t understood what Alex was talking about. Truthfully, he thought Alex had the wrong number.

“Why did I leave the lake house?” he asks, desperate for answers. There are tears in his eyes but they’re tears of grief for something he doesn’t even recall losing in the first place.

“I don’t know, darling,” Pez tells him. “He’s the only one that knows.”

Henry thinks about it for a moment before he sticks his chin out and slides the rock into his pocket. “Right. Well, we’re leaving.”

The other two get up in protest. “Henry, if you’re that upset––”

“I need to go,” he says, certain. “I need to go find him and ask him. Where does he live these days? Do you know?”

“New York, I think,” Bea says.

So that’s where Henry goes. Shaan is surprised that he’s making the request, but he complies and looks a bit too smug about it for Henry’s liking. For the entire plane ride, Henry fidgets with the rock, turning it over in his hands. He’ll get answers––he has to. It feels like something he should remember despite the lake, like his brain should still somehow retain the memory of Alex’s skin against his own or the way he felt about him. It’s maddening to know that he had all of these feelings but doesn’t remember a single one of them. If he tries to remember things, it leaves his mind aching and burning like he’s setting his brain on fire or something.

The plane ride feels like it takes years, not hours. As does the car ride when they touch down. Henry is motionless, save for the repetitive turning of the stone in his hand.

When they arrive outside of an apartment building, Henry practically sprints out of the car. It’s raining but he can’t bring himself to care much because each step he takes brings him one step closer to the truth. There’s an intercom system with a bunch of names and numbers, so Henry quickly scans the list until he finds the only one he cares about. He hits the button once and waits, hoping that Alex is home. It’s the evening, now, and the sky is dark above him. Alex should be home, right? If memory serves––well, he knows it bloody well doesn’t, apparently––Alex is a great student and would probably be using this seemingly random Tuesday night to study. He’s a law student now, Henry thinks. Maybe. He hasn’t really paid him much attention.

“Who is it?” Alex asks over the small, static speaker.

Henry releases a breath he doesn’t remember holding. “It’s––it’s Henry. Er, the Prince of Wales?”

He hears Alex groan and it makes him cringe. If he’s come all this way and Alex won’t let him up, Henry doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself. “Why are you here?”

“I––I want to talk,” he explains. “It’s important, I swear.”

There’s a beat of silence where, presumably, Alex is deciding whether to let him in or not. Like a nervous child, Henry finds himself bouncing on his toes anxiously as he waits for Alex to respond. He doesn’t even get a response, though. There’s just the alarming, dreadful tone of Alex unlocking the door.

The entryway of the building is small and cramped. One wall is lined with mailboxes, another housing the lift, and the other having both a stairwell and a door. The list outside said that Alex was in apartment 204, so Henry decides that the stairs will get him there faster than the seemingly old lift. He takes them two at a time which is probably the most un-princely thing he’s ever done in his entire life. By the time he gets to the second floor, he’s pink-faced and more nervous than he’s ever been before. He quickly finds the door marked 204 and takes a deep breath before knocking.

It takes Alex a moment to come to it, but Henry hears him begrudgingly slide the chain off and unlock the deadbolt. Then the door opens and Alex is standing in front of him.

His hair is a mess of unkempt curls on his head and he’s wearing an NYU sweatshirt and sweatpants, obviously working on something. Henry can’t help but note the glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose, too. He had no idea Alex wore glasses. Above all, Henry notes the bags under his eyes and the creases on his forehead. He looks positively exhausted.

Alex must note him staring because he rolls his eyes and steps back, letting Henry into his apartment. Henry steps in but doesn’t say anything because he has no idea where to even begin. His hand slips into his pocket, fidgeting with the stone again as he takes in the apartment. It’s small but very comfortable and lived-in with a big couch and a plethora of books and binders scattered around. There’s an impressive collection of plates and mugs by the sink and a few more on the coffee table by the sealed-off fireplace and the television mounted on top of it.

“Are you just gonna be silent or do you have something to say?” Alex asks him.

Henry just looks at him, trying to piece this all together in his mind. He’s coming up short, of course. Alex is beautiful, but he’s also extremely rude. Maybe that’s why Henry broke it off with him?

“Can I get you a glass of water or something, Your Highness?” Alex asks, moving over to the kitchen area.

“You don’t have to ca––”

“Call you that?” Alex chuckles to himself, shaking his head as he pulls out two glasses. “Yeah, I know.”

Henry frowns and sits down on the sofa, waiting for Alex to come back. When he does, he sets a glass of water down in front of Henry but his own drink is dark and golden. Whiskey, Henry thinks.

“Do I not get an alcoholic beverage?” he asks with a raised eyebrow as he takes a sip of the water.

Alex sits down in the armchair across from him and shakes his head. “I actually need it. Seriously, Henry, what is this? It’s been two years of literally no word from you and now you show up in New York out of the blue? I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought you were the Prince of, ya know, England. Why are you here?”

Henry sets down his glass as he tries to find the right way to go about this. Is there a right way to go about this? Henry would really love a manual or instructions or something. “I––can I ask you something?”

Alex laughs but it seems like it’s mostly to himself. “I mean, why not? You came all this way––it’s the least I could do for a Prince.”

Henry shakes off the sarcasm and tries to collect his thoughts. “Could you tell me, er, about the lake house?”

The words make Alex freeze. He swallows––Henry can see the movement in his throat. “What about it?”

Henry’s been in the spotlight long enough to know when someone is trying to hide the emotion in their voice, and that’s exactly what Alex is doing right now. “What happened? From your perspective, I mean.”

Alex takes a deep breath and moves the glass in his hands, obviously not enjoying this conversation. “You remember,” he whispers. “You were there.”

Henry bites his lip, trying not to show that no, in fact, he doesn’t remember it at all. “I’d just like to hear it from you. Your side of things, I suppose.”

It looks like Alex thinks about it for a moment before he sets his glass down and his jaw tenses. Oh, he’s obviously very angry with Henry about it. That much is clear. “I took you there––I took you to my most special place. You met my fucking dad. We drank, we had sex, we had fun. I thought––I wanted to…fuck, Henry, don’t make me say this. Why are you doing this? Is this the final twist of the knife or something?”

There are tears gathering in Alex’s eyes––Henry can see them. He watches helplessly as Alex stands and moves over by one of the windows, looking out at the city. The lights from outside only illuminate the tears now running down his cheeks. The sight of it makes Henry want to cry, too, for some reason he doesn’t understand.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” Henry tells him truthfully. “I just want to understand.”

Alex laughs and removes his glasses to wipe at his face. “You’re the one that left, Henry. You’re the one who just––and I never heard from you again. You just ignored me after. Actually, no. You didn’t even ignore me. You pretended like you had no idea what I was fucking talking about. And that––it hurt. It hurt so fucking much.”

“I didn’t pretend,” Henry says in a whisper so quiet he isn’t even sure if Alex hears him.

Alex does, though. The admission pisses him off. “Yeah you did!” he argues, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. “I texted you and you acted like I had the wrong fucking number or something.”

“Alex, I honestly wasn’t pretending. I––I went to the lake, all right?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I fucking know. It was my lake house.”

Henry gets up and pulls the stone out of his pocket, holding it out in his palm for Alex to see. “No. I went to the lake. And I––I wrote this and threw it in. You know what happens when you do that, don’t you?”

Alex takes the stone from his hand and stares at it for a moment before scoffing and giving it back to Henry. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

“It’s true!”

“I don’t doubt that it’s true,” Alex yells, more tears falling. He sits on the windowsill and looks up at Henry. “It’s––how could you? After everything we had been through together, how could you just do that?”

Henry shrugs and sits down next to him. Their shoulders touch. “I don’t know, Alex. I really don’t. I can’t recall a bloody thing about you beyond our fake friendship. It’s driving me mad––has been since I found this.”

“When’d you find it?”

“A few hours ago. I got on a plane as soon as I did.”

That makes Alex laugh a bit which feels like a win. He doesn’t say anything else, though.

Henry nudges him with his shoulder. “I feel like your deep in thought. Would you like to talk about it?”

“It’s just––I know you, Henry. And even if you knew what I was going to say that night, you wouldn’t do this. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met, you know? It doesn’t make sense that you would just forget me as soon as it got too real for you to deal with.”

“I wish there was something I could say to make it better or to get my memory back so I could know what I was thinking,” Henry admits. “But there isn’t a way, not that I know of, anyway. I’d like to think I know myself, but even I don’t understand why I’d do something like this. Perhaps I was scared of it. Unrequited love is always hard.”

“It wasn’t unrequited,” Alex whispers.

Henry looks over at him, gobsmacked. “What?”

“It wasn’t fucking unrequited. That’s what I wanted to tell you that night. It was on the tip of my tongue and then you…”

“Then I left,” Henry says, recalling Alex mentioning it.

“Yeah. Then you fucking left.”

They’re silent for a moment. Alex leans his head back against the window and Henry watches him, studying his features for a moment.

“How do you feel now?”

“Like you’re a fucking asshole,” Alex huffs.

“Right.”

Alex shakes his head. “But also like I’ve missed you. Even if you haven’t missed me.”

The thought of someone missing him makes Henry smile. Maybe that’s selfish of him, especially considering he hasn’t missed Alex, but he can’t help it. “Do you still love me?”

Alex’s eyes widen. “Jesus fucking Christ, H. What kind of question is that?”

Henry maneuvers himself so he’s facing him, though that means he’s barely on the windowsill now. “Please just answer it.”

Alex sighs. “Yeah, okay? I still fucking love you.”

“Good,” Henry whispers, moving a bit closer.

Alex meets his eyes then looks to his lips. “Why?”

“Because then you’re less inclined to be mad at me for this.”

Before Alex even has the chance to reply, Henry closes the distance between them. Alex instantly melts into the kiss like he’s been waiting over two years for Henry to get his shit together and do this. Which, Henry realizes, he has. And the kiss is so good––Alex’s lips are soft and perfect and his hands are already moving on Henry’s body to pull him impossibly closer. It’s so good, in fact, that Henry isn’t expecting what comes next.

It feels like his brain is being stabbed with thousands of needles all at once. He pulls back and holds his head in his hands as he cries out, trying to figure out what’s going on. All at once, thousands of images and moments flood his mind. There are clips of Alex smiling, of Alex kissing him, of Alex’s mouth around Henry’s cock. It all comes racing back into his brain in a whirlwind that leaves Henry breathless and, somehow, on the floor. When he opens his eyes, Alex’s confused eyes are staring back at him.

In those glasses that he loves.

“I remember,” Henry tells him.

“Remember what?”

Henry smiles and pulls him closer, resting their foreheads together. “Everything.”

Alex lets out a sob and wraps his arms around Henry, burying his head in the crook of Henry’s neck as they defamiliarize themselves with each other. And he knows that he has two years to make up for, but somehow he thinks that everything will be okay because, against all odds, he has Alex back in his arms. And he’s never letting him go or forgetting about him again.

There’s a lake.

The water is so light that it looks like the sky on a clear day––the sun reflecting off its surface in perfect, beautiful, golden lines. It’s truly a gorgeous thing to look at, but a problem if you get closer. Everyone knows about the lake––it’s been here since the dawn of time. Lining the lake are rocks––small and smooth. You can pick them up in your hand, turn them over a few times if you’d like. This lake––this gorgeous lake––is where people go to forget. They write something down on a rock––something truly horrible; the worst thing they’ve endured––and they throw it beneath the glistening surface. The lake swallows the memory whole, taking it down to the sandy bottom and letting it sit there for a while. When you wake up the next morning, you’ve completely forgotten both going to the lake and the memory attached to the rock you threw. But the lake has bee here since the dawn of time. It knows that some memories are too important to be forgotten. So it gives them back to you when you’re ready.

And that’s just how it goes.

[mrsluttystark]

Got this idea from @reniisbooks! Definitely check theirs out, music taste is *chefs kiss*. I put my music on shuffle and wrote little prompts/summaries for each one.

Hallucinations by dvsn: post-Endgame

Peter’s gone absolutely mad. There’s no other way to explain it. He swears he sees Tony at his graduation, standing in the crowd. He’s gone when he blinks. Peter keeps catching glimpses of neatly trimmed facial hair and tinted glasses, never lasting more than a second. He dreams of him, touching him, so lifelike; he awakes to the feeling of strong arms wrapped around his waist and warmth on his back. Bolting upright, he’s alone, aside from the lingering smell of coffee and motor oil.

Hold Me by Fleetwood Mac: flirty!peter, guilty!tony

Since Peter turned 18 and started living in the compound, he’s been a lot less subtle about his feelings. Every morning, he comes into the kitchen wearing either low slung pajama pants and no shirt or a shirt so big you can’t tell what kind of underwear he’s wearing. Tony’s willing to admit he sneaks a peak over his mug. Peter flirts and throws innuendos into their conversation, and Tony pretends he doesn’t hear it. It’s a little game of cat and mouse. Peter doesn’t mind, he’s got all the time in the world and Tony’s resolve is already so thin.

Mount Everest by Labrinth: SIM!Tony

Tony Stark has it all. Power, riches, men, and women. He built his empire with his own two hands. He owns New York City. With the extremis coursing through his veins no one has had the gall to get in his way. That is until a little spider crawls into his sights by leading the feds to a boat full of his drugs docked in the pier. That simply won’t do, Tony calls his suit to him and takes off to see this Spiderboy for himself. Squash him while he’s at it.

Howling by RY X: ABO, underage, teacher/student

Tony couldn’t help himself if he tried. He’s got the prettiest Omega bent over his desk begging for his cock. The feeling of being inside Peter is almost primal, he’d spent weeks ignoring the teen’s scent. Only to give in the moment Peter nosed his way up his pulse point. He looks to the side, down-turning the sign on his desk reading “Principal Stark”. He’ll feel bad later, right now Peter is whimpering below him and he can’t bring himself to care.

shedontknowbutsheknows by Tove Lo: cheating!tony (not on Peter)

Peter wasn’t surprised to see Tony at the very bar the older man picked him up from the week before. This is where all powerful men came to relax. Tony however, looked very surprised to see him (and not in a good way). He didn’t know why until a tall red headed woman came to loop her arm through Tony’s. Pepper, his wife, he introduced. This is Peter, a student I met when I spoke at MIT. While that were true, what Pepper didn’t know was that Tony had cornered him in the library and sucked him off in the Political Science section. The way Pepper looked him up and down told Peter that she definitely knew.

bleed you still by Greyson Chance: coming of age!starker, drug use

Tony Stark was a genius, who could easily test out of high school and be on his merry way to college. He just loves pissing off his father even more. So he skips, he smokes, he gets high, he drives a motorcycle. He almost runs over an adorably clumsy Peter Parker in the parking lot, and Tony thinks he might want to ruin him. Tony’s temper causes fights and drug binges and drunk 3 am apologies. Peter stays, and Tony wonders how much longer he’ll be able to deal with it.

She by Harry Styles: closeted!tony

It’s Tony’s turn to pick up Morgan from school today, he’s skipped it too many times. Pepper is out of town so there’s no avoiding it. He’s the last parent to arrive and he practically breaks down the door rushing in. Morgan is there alone with a young man, and Tony can take his eyes off of him. This is Mr. Peter, his daughter says. Mr. Stark, pleased to finally meet you. Tony doesn’t miss the way their hands linger after they shake. He dreams of the younger man that night, and every night until Tony decides maybe he’ll pick up Morgan more often. He doesn’t tell his wife why.

Let me know if you’d like me to expand on any of these I’d be happy to oblige. Or if anyone wants to use any of these I’d be honored!

[msjr0119]

Ross Gellar prompt list 9. "My life is an embarrassment. I should just go live under somebody's stair."

Thanks for the prompt Ella, I should have posted this months ago. But my life took over 🤣... better late than never 🤷‍♀️

Book: The Royal Romance

Warnings: Swearing, imagination of sex, mention of sex.

A/N: I’ve borrowed Willow and Sophie from the amazing @pedudley with her permission ❤️

Tags - just using my combined tag list for this one shot prompt:

@pedudley @loveellamae @kacie-0156 @annekebbphotography @kingliam2019 @burnsoslow @kimmiedoo5 @lodberg @walker7519 @drakewalkerisreal @axwalker @bascmve01 @ladyangel70 @texaskitten30 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater @queenjilian @drakewalker04 @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @rainbowsinthestorm @desireepow-1986 @jared2612 @twinkle-320 @princessleac1 @cordonianroyalty @custaroonie @princess-geek @bebepac @nikkis1983 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @seriouslybadchoices @furiousherringoperatortoad @choices97 @gardeningourmet

*****

Maxwell Beaumont had become slightly paranoid after watching all the news reports regarding the virus that was taking over the world. He became that obsessed with reading about it, that every time he began to have palpitations. Wondering what was going to happen? Was it the end of the world? Searching through Ramsford, he realised that he needed to go on shopping trip- quickly scribbling a long list down he knew that the two people who would be most useful with helping him complete it would be his best friends Drake and Willow.

“So Max, are you turning into housewife whilst Sophie is away?” Willow laughed, imagining Maxwell dressed up in a pinny. Sophie had returned to Texas to check in on the ranch prior to the outbreak, to make sure that it was still there and not burnt to a crisp. She knew she could trust Willow’s brother but still had those lingering doubts.

“No, have you not seen the news? We need to panic buy! Like, right now...before the country goes on full lockdown.”

Willow and Drake looked at each confused, wondering if he was still drunk from last night. Surely it wasn’t that bad? The two of them had seen the news, but it was elsewhere in the world- not in Cordonia. Yet.

“Max, calm the fuck down. The world isn’t ending.” Maxwell shot him a look, wondering why he wasn’t taking the whole situation seriously.

“Lo, understands don’t ya?”

“Of course I do.” Shrugging her shoulders, she bit her lip as she faced her partner. Not wanting to be in the middle of a debate. Drake pulled her closer towards her giving her a stern expression before whispering into her ear.

“What the fuck are you doing? You’re just encouraging him.”

“Maybe, but once we get back- I’ll make it up to you.” Fluttering her eyelashes towards Drake, he knew exactly what she meant by her words. Just the thought of it made his cock slightly raise. The sooner we go, the sooner we get back.

“Fine. Come on let’s go.”

****

Arriving at the supermarket, Drake instantly regretted agreeing to come. The first reason being, was when Maxwell handed them both a mask to wear. It felt suffocating, but after thinking about it- it would prevent the spread of germs. People were panic shopping, overfilling their trollies. It was manic. Maxwell got the trolley, pushing it - he then leaped onto the side nearly crashing into a stack on baked beans.

“Wahoo! Supermarket sweep- here we come!” Willow screamed with excitement trying to catch up with Max. Fucking children, Drake murmured to himself- keeping a slight distance, he attempted to dodge people barging past him.

“Buddy! You’ve got five packs of toilet rolls! This one is mine.” Maxwell snapped at the stranger whilst playing tug of war. Willow ran over to assist him, Drake believed that she would calm the situation down. She was capable enough to handle any situation. Standing at the side of the aisle, he flicked through social media to keep himself entertained.

“Excuse me? Do you know that man and woman?” Drake turned to the man, wondering why concern was painted across his face. That was until he followed the strangers gaze that landed onto his girlfriend and ‘friend’. For fuck sake.

“Give my friend the fucking goddamn bog roll!” Willow demanded with her arms folded.

“I got it first missy!” Maxwell threw himself on to the floor, ready to cause a tantrum like a child. I just want a pack of toilet roll. Why is he not co-operating? Why is this happening to me? To us? Is it just a nightmare? I just want- no need some fucking toilet roll to wipe my arse with! What a selfish prick! I’m not an animal that can wipe my arse on a patch of grass. Fuck you mate, you’ve messed with the wrong person.

“I feel like I need to piss.” Maxwell stood up, now not giving two damns. Whipping his cock out- he urinated over the mans shoes. His original plan was to just threaten it, however his apparent full bladder decided otherwise. Urine sprayed uncontrollably all over the man and the aisle as if it was a burst dam.

“If I had my toilet roll, I could have been home now. Sorry, not sorry.”

“You’re fucking disgusting! But all of this toilet roll is mine.”

“You know what, I think I need a shit.” Willow pulled her trousers down, sitting on the edge of the strangers trolley- she pretended to push.

“Okay, Fine. Take it!” The man couldn’t cope with the two of them acting like caged baboons. Pushing Willow off of his trolley, he forced the toilet into her hand before storming off. Willow jumped up and down celebrating, waving the toilet roll in the air - ensuring that she had a tight grip onto it. Before anybody could snatch it off of her. Maxwell high-fived her. “Team work.” He shouted, before kissing the toilet roll, and bowing to it.

“Now that’s done, Lo- we just need; flour, bread, milk, eggs.... the list goes on in fact. Surely it won’t be as difficult getting those things? Do you and Drake want to add anything to the list? Condoms? Lube?”

“Maxwell.... I do not need lube when it comes to my sex life with Drake.... come on let’s go over to Drake.” Too much information, Willow. Although, myself and Sophie don’t need lube either. Us Cordonian men must be sex machines.

“Nope. Never seen them before in my life. I think that they have been released from the psychiatric hospital by the looks of it.” Drake explained to the stranger after the two of them viewed the the two’some embarrassing themselves. The man next to Drake just nodded, knowing that he was lying as Maxwell was trying to gain Drake’s attention.

****

Once they got back, Drake felt as if he had to ground the two of them. That was the worse shopping experience that he had experienced- he definitely needed a whiskey or two. Then he could punish Willow for her behaviour- the Walker way.

“Could you put the shopping away guys? Sophie’s FaceTiming.”

“We can all talk to her!” Willow suggested. It wasn’t only Maxwell that was missing her.

“Hey baby girl. I’ve missed you.”

“Maxwell! How could you?”

“How could I what?”

“You’re all over the news and the internet!” Drake turned the tv on, indeed Maxwell had stolen the limelight.

"But Soph, he wouldn’t give me the toilet roll. He had five! Willow can vouche for me!”

“I don’t know what you are on about Max. I wasn’t there. I’m not on the tv.” Winking at Drake, he was grateful that her arse wasn’t on the tv. They decided to leave the two lovebirds talking to each other, but still stayed within distance so they could over hear Sophie give Maxwell a telling off.

"Willow is lying! My life is an embarrassment. I should just go live under somebody's stair."

“Oh, Max. I love you. I’ll see you soon. Don’t cause anymore trouble.... please.”

Hanging up, Maxwell wondered where Drake had gone. Hearing willows distinctive laugh- he followed the noise.

“What are you guys doing?”

“You said you was going to live under somebody’s stairs? I’ve turned the cupboard under the stairs into a little home for you. You’ll be like Harry Potter. There’s some newspaper and toilet roll for you Maxwell.” Willow attempted not to laugh at Drake’s comment, but she couldn’t help herself. Practically nearly wetting herself.

I hate my life right now.

****

Four months later, the pandemic was still around but numbers had decreased. Maxwell returned to the supermarket- alone, as Drake refused to go again after the last time. Luckily he wasn’t recognised- or banned for that matter.

Walking down the toilet roll aisle, a little smirk spread across his face remembering the last time that he was playing tug of war. Now there wasn’t a shortage of toilet roll, but he had decided to stock up just incase. As he was leaving, his stomach began to rumble and there was a sudden urge to eat McDonald’s - even if it was only Drive Thru for the time being. Thinking about it, he didn’t have his own car as Sophie had lent it to take her and Willow our for a spa day- but he was desperate for the greasy food and a milkshake. Then a light bulb appeared in his mind.

****

Arriving at the Drive Thru, he was slightly uncomfortable- but the food that he would be receiving would definitely be worth the short term discomfort. Honking the horn, he couldn’t wipe the ever growing smirk forming on his face. Beep beep.

“Excuse me, Sir. You can’t come through the Drive Thru in that...”

“It’s a car!” Maxwell shouted as he defended his choice of ‘automobile’. The member of staff was wondering if there was a camera crew lingering somewhere - ready to pounce out, shouting ‘you’ve been punk’d’.

“I refuse to move until I’ve been served. I would like; six double cheese burgers, a share box of nuggets- make sure I have a mixture of sauces to go with them. Erm, I’ll have a Big Mac meal with a large chocolate milkshake... what would Drake like? They don’t do alcohol with meals here like in Paris.. hmm. You know what, give me six of everything off of the menu. I’m sure we could eat it all. If not I’m sure my peacocks would enjoy the treat.”

“I will not ask you again. Please come back when you are in a car. Besides, we only have a €25 limit for each customer.”

“Are you refusing to serve me, the person who is giving you quite possibly the biggest order you’ve ever received.”

“Yes. If you don’t leave now, I will have to call the police. Please, Sir. You are causing a traffic jam!”

“Serve me right now, or I’ll inform the King. I am close friends with him. He will not be pleased that you have refused to serve someone that is part of his court.” The manager came out of the restaurant, to see what all of the commotion was about- he understood that it would be busy due to them only just reopening but he could hear shouting. However he didn’t need this stress.

“Will you just serve him, it’s giving us a bad reputation and customers are videoing it. I don’t care what the issue is or that he’s not in a car. Just serve him now. Then we can ban him returning in the future!” Maxwell smirked at the crew member, as his eyebrows did a celebratory wiggle.

****

Returning back to Ramsford, he was so pleased with himself- proud that he had brought some food back with him as he nibbled on the way back. Opening the door, he knew that the girls would be back- they could all feast together.

“No need to thank me, but I have food! For us all....” Bowing as he entered the through the doors saying this, he believed that he had definitely won the ‘best friend’ award.

“Maxwell!” Everybody shouted in unison- as they scowled at him with their arms folded.

“What?” He asked innocently, whilst scoffing the remainder of the double cheeseburger that he had begun to eat prior to walking through the doors.

“Care to explain this to me?” Bertrand snarled as he passed the phone over. Drake shook his head - disbelieving that Maxwell had become an ‘overnight’ sensation yet again.

“Looks like you’re going to re-enacting Harry Potter again, eh Beaumont...”

“Shut up, Drake! Listen... Bertrand... it’s a car. I went through the Drive Thru. I don’t personally see the issue... anyway. Enjoy the food, everyone!”

A crazy man attended McDonald’s today- in a Little Tykes car with the number plate BARTIE-IS-DA-BEST. We will not tolerate behaviour like in the video posted below. If anybody arrives at our restaurants acting like this- YOU WILL NOT BE SERVED! If anybody knows the mans identity, please report him. Thank you.

[artificialqueens]

Blue Neighborhood Series: LOST BOY + for him. (Jaida-centric) - Mac

AN: Thanks to Alex for betaing and thanks to you all for sticking with me as this update took a while. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Summary: Jaida is still reeling from the events of Widow’s birthday party, but she doesn’t have time to process as Homecoming is on the horizon.

The week leading up to Homecoming, Jaida did her best to act as if nothing had changed.

She attended class, ate lunch with her teammates, went to practice, drove home, did her work, and went to bed.

She was structured. Followed her routine.

Nothing had changed.

Except her secret was out.

Granted, only out to a handful of people, most of whom didn’t care enough to spread gossip like that. But there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t go flaunting her business to the entire school.

And that’s what ultimately worried her.

Every whisper in the hallway had her straining her ear to listen. Each snicker made her wince. It was like her body was on high alert and she had to do everything in her power to pretend it wasn’t.  

She hardly even noticed when last period rolled around, reflexively sighing as the familiar screech of the intercom sounded.

Jan’s voice rang out, chipper and bright as ever.

It was a small comfort.

“Good afternoon!”  Jaida could hear her smile through the static. “I know everyone is anxious for the Homecoming court nominees, so we’ll start with that. But first-”

Jaida poorly concealed an eye roll. In the midst of all her personal drama, she had almost forgotten entirely about the dance.

“Like previous years, Eastview recognizes the student body as a whole is diverse and not everyone fits into gendered roles, so we will, as we have in the past, refer to the winners as Homecoming Royalty rather than King or Queen!”  

There was some shuffling as the intercom was passed around, Bryce’s voice suddenly ringing in the small classroom.

“Without further ado,” he boomed. “The nominees for our 2020 Homecoming court are…” He paused dramatically, causing a few people to groan. “Nicky Doll, Jan Sport, Jaida Essence Hall, Gigi Goode, Bryce Eilenberg, Wilson Lai,  Jason Carter, and Mark Manio.”

Jaida felt herself exhale.

“Congrats to all our nominees! Reminder to everyone that you can go in and vote through the student portal for Homecoming royalty now. We look forward to seeing everyone at the dance this Friday!”

Jaida tuned out the rest of the announcements. Though she smiled politely whenever her peers stopped to congratulate her, she had ultimately zoned out, instead focusing on outlining a new defensive play to run during practice.

Her teammates didn’t comment on her subdued nature, probably out of fear. They simply nodded when she gave instructions, hustled around the court, jumped when she said jump. The usual.

The gym was a welcome relief from the rest of the school. It was a comfort thing, sure, but mostly it acted as a representation for everything she was good at.

Here, in the 94 by 50 foot court, she was somebody.

She didn’t have to think. Everything was reflexes and power and speed. No mistake she made couldn’t be fixed by practicing a hundred hours.

No mistake was permanent.

Her body was mendable. She could make it do whatever she wanted.

She wrapped up practice as she always did, with the order of ten laps around the court and a high five to each of her girls. They filed off into the locker room one by one, but Jaida lingered a bit, her mind still mulling over the events of the past few days.

She found her eyes trailing down to the area of skin above the bend in her elbow. The black ink of the fresh tattoo still took her off guard. It hadn’t fully healed yet, and there were traces of irritation around the black dots that made up the letters. She sighed as she ran her fingers over the raised skin, memories of Widow’s birthday party flashing behind her eyes.

One such image stuck out among all the others though, and she felt bile rise in her throat at the thought.

Before the churning in her stomach could get worse, she started running.

She felt her body take over as she threw herself around the court at lighting speed. Lap after lap after lap. Her brain only passively aware that she was moving because of the beads of sweat making their way from her hairline to the small of her back.

Jaida only slowed when she noticed a figure at the edge of the court.

Gigi stood calmly under the net, hair styled, posture set, unabashedly staring as Jaida rounded a corner.

It was strange.

After hiding for so long, Gigi simply looking at her felt dangerous.

Jaida slowed to a walk several feet in front of the cheerleader, taking cautious steps closer.

The corner of Gigi’s mouth quirked up playfully. “So, you gonna ask me to Homecoming, Allstar?” She batted her eyes in a manner that would have, under normal circumstances, had Jaida chomping at the bit to press her against the nearest flat surface.

As it was, with the memory of Gigi’s frazzled appearance and Jackie’s smug smile burned into her retinas, Jaida couldn’t help but bite back a scoff at the notion.

“Thought you had a date,” she muttered, venom in her words.

Gigi’s smile vanished; her eyes fell to the floor. “Not anymore.”

“Oh? You’re too good for her too?” Jaida couldn’t help the bitterness from seeping out, her arms coming to cross in front of her chest defensively.

Gigi’s eyes flashed darkly, but the glint of anger passed just as suddenly as it appeared. “I’ll take that as a no, then.”

Jaida set her mouth in a line, unwilling to give Gigi any more of an inkling into how she felt.

Gigi hesitated a moment, her previously icy posture melting a bit as her eyes searched Jaida’s face for… something.

“Is it Jan?” She finally asked.

“Is what Jan?”

“Why you can’t look at me?”

Jaida nearly choked on her own spit.

Gigi nodded once. Firmly. With finality.

And turned on her heel.

…

Friday came faster than Jaida would have liked.

Luckily for her, Widow had reached out the day after the nominations, almost as if she knew what Jaida was going through, and had offered a spot in their Homecoming group.

Jaida had accepted gratefully, thankful, because her only other option had been to go alone, seeing as her teammates all had made plans weeks ago.

She still wasn’t thrilled about the whole prospect of Homecoming, knowing that it was mostly an excuse for people to get drunk and party after a school-sanctioned event. Seeing as the most recent party she attended had ended so poorly, she wasn’t eager for a repeat.

Still, she was glad to be involved, even if she loathed herself for it.

It was something she had tried and failed to explain in the past. She was grateful, absolutely. The opportunities she had been offered, the friends she had made, her damn college tuition had all been made possible through basketball and her quasi-stardom. She wasn’t ignorant to the power she held. She just didn’t see it the same way other people did. That’s what Widow still couldn’t understand. It wasn’t fun to have the reputation of the school on your shoulders at all times. It was exhausting.

Jan understood.

Jaida figured that’s why it was so easy with her. They both held the weight of everyone’s expectations on their shoulders so constantly that it became a part of who they were. They prided themselves on never breaking a sweat, even when the unyielding pressure was too much to bear.

They saw it as strength, even if deep down they knew better.

The stress and pressure had taken over Jaida’s life so completely that she was scared of who she’d become without it.

So she set her shoulders and forced a smile when she arrived at Widow’s doorstep right at 8:30, dress bag thrown over a muscular forearm.

Widow had swung the door open wide, hair tied up in a towel, practically naked. But she acted like this was totally normal as she let Jaida in, leading her down the familiar hallway to the kitchen.

There were two other figures lounging about in various states of undress.

The guy, Joey, or Joe, Jaida remembered Widow calling him, was leaned against the counter, hip cocked out to the side, toothy grin set in the lines on his face.

He was handsome.

In that classically charming way that most men with two brain cells and a non-threatening demeanor were.

And then there was Dahlia.

She was perched atop the kitchen counter smiling widely at something Widow’s boyfriend had said when she made eye contact with Jaida.

Her expression changed instantly, face falling along with her gaze.

Jaida tried not to let it outwardly phase her. She still hadn’t figured out how she felt about Dahlia. The instance at the party being one of the only experiences she’d had with the younger girl. Granted, during said experience, Dahlia had gone out of her way to attack Jan and ended up being one of the driving forces that exposed her and Gigi.

But there was something else that Jaida couldn’t quite place. A motive.

Which made the whole thing ridiculously more complicated, and Jaida really didn’t want to get into all of it right then.

So she brushed it off to the best of her abilities and gave a small nod in Dahlia’s direction.

An understanding passed between them as the younger girl shot her an appreciative look before letting the tension in her shoulders dissipate.

The four of them lounged about the house for a solid half-hour before even attempting to begin the arduous process of getting ready. In all honesty, Jaida hadn’t been prepared for the event that her counterparts made dressing up, and she was taken completely off guard when they both insisted on doing her hair and makeup.

Jaida relented after a bit of teasing and let the two take over, grumbling just enough as they poked and prodded every inch of her face.

That, coupled with the fact that Widow and Dahlia had to get ready themselves, was just one of the many reasons they pulled into the parking lot of the school nearly two hours after the dance started.

Jaida’s group didn’t seem to mind though, Widow and Joe leading the way into the school, giggling into each other’s space all the while. Jaida found herself smiling at their antics, something about the uncomplicated nature of their relationship was refreshing to be around.

When they entered the school, Jaida managed to avoid having her picture taken, smoothly slipping away from the rest of her group in an attempt to orient herself.

It was just as well seeing as Widow began berating the school’s hired photographer about angles and lighting and a million other things Jaida couldn’t comprehend.

The basketball star couldn’t help but smile slightly at the decorations that covered every inch of the gym. The theme had been Underwater Ball, which Jan had despised since the moment it was chosen.

Jaida couldn’t count the number of times she had to listen to the student body president complain about how blue washed her out and how unethical the whole fishing industry was.

But for however much Jan hated the theme, she had done a damn good job with the decorations. Floor to ceiling cardboard waves acted as a background to the literal hundreds of hand-drawn fish cutouts. Not to mention the life-size mermaid statues that lined the dance floor. Projectors on either side made the waves look realistic as they moved with the non-existent tide. Seaweed pillars lined the stage in the center of the gym.

And Jaida’s personal favorite touch, the seafood puns.

Claw and Order Crab Cakes

Kriller Punch

As Jaida’s eyes roamed the impressive setup, she caught sight of some familiar faces.

Nicky and Jackie were smack dab in the middle of the dance floor, throwing their heads back, eyes shut, dancing like lunatics. They commanded attention. Nicky, with her natural grace, and Jackie with her unending magnetism.

Heidi and Crystal swayed nearby, giggling at their pair of friends and chatting with… Brita, who looked to be having the time of her life.

Jadia wasn’t really up to date with all the cliques, but the grouping seemed unusual.

She shrugged it off and continued scouting out the rest of the space, catching Aiden and Rock out of the corner of her eye. The two girls had managed to get to the very top of the collapsed bleachers and were looking out at the mass of bodies.

Then there was Jan, surrounded by a crowd of smiling faces, and Bryce at her side. A casual onlooker wouldn’t question the scene in the slightest, but Jaida could see Jan’s hand tensing around her cup at the proximity.

And then there was Gigi, standing alone against the far wall, covered head to toe in dazzling silver, her dress reflecting the pulsing lights.

She looked like a sexy disco ball. And also like she’d been crying.

Jaida hated that her stomach twisted at the thought.

No matter how hard she tried, and Lord knows how hard she tried, Jaida couldn’t let Gigi go. It wasn’t even fondness anymore, it was all of it. The whole stupid fucking lot of it. The sex and the feelings and the closeness that shook Jaida to her very core.

She craved Gigi with every ounce of her being.

Her heart beat in time with Gigi’s careful steps; the click-clack of heels against linoleum floors.

But before Jaida could fall into another endless spiral of feelings and self-loathing, there was a voice ringing out over the speakers calling for all the Homecoming Royalty nominees to come to the stage.

Jaida felt herself follow the lead of the other nominees onto the stage. She squinted at the harsh spotlights, feeling the familiar itch on her skin that meant people were looking at her. It wasn’t wholly unpleasant, just… noticeable.

She took a moment to breathe in and out and survey her competition.

Nicky up first in a gorgeous black and white pantsuit, looking like the epitome of French fashion. Jan to her left, sunshine yellow dress complimenting the brilliant smile she wore. Jaida’s own form fitting red dress pooling around her ankles like water. And Gigi in her silver shining dress that hugged her sides the way Jaida’s hands itched to.

The nominees stood hand in hand, some holding their breath, others rolling their eyes internally as the room went dead silent. The seconds ticked by like hours, but Jaida felt Jan squeeze her hand a split second before the announcement came.

“Jaida Essence Hall and Jan Sport!”

Jaida smiled reflexively as her heart sank in her chest.

She turned to pull a beaming Jan into her arms. The first physical contact they’d had since the party. And that knowledge alone lit something up inside of Jaida, but before either of them could say anything more than a simple congrats, there were sashes and crowns and the booming voice calling for students to clear the floor.

Jaida rolled her eyes at the extra-ness of it all, but Jan elbowed her in the side and she couldn’t help but break out into a giggle.

She offered a hand out to Jan, who smiled adorably as she took it, leading them down the stairs of the stage and into the center of the gym.

Jaida let her hands find Jan’s hips, while Jan’s arms wrapped around the back of Jaida’s neck.

Jaida couldn’t help a grin as a corny love song began to play from the speakers. Jan blushed prettily and teased her about it, but Jaida didn’t care.

She and Jan swayed for what felt like ages. Hands and bodies wrapped around each other.

They fit.

Body and soul they fit.

“You’ve got an admirer,” Jan whispered, nodding her head over Jaida’s shoulder.

The Allstar player turned her head and caught sight of Gigi staring daggers at the pair of them. She quickly looked away when she was caught, then pushed herself off the wall where she had been leaning, storming over to Nicky and pulling the other girl out the gym doors.

“How are you?” Jan’s tone was serious, but her eyes were soft.

Jaida chuckled and shook her head.

“What?”

“Nothing I just-” Jaida smiled. “You never say what I expect you to.”

“Thanks?”

“It’s a compliment.” Jaida insisted, inching that much closer to Jan. “Most people would be tryin’ to get information about all that.” She nodded in Gigi’s direction.

Jan shrugged. “I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not curious, but you’d tell me if you needed to.”

Jaida nodded. “Thank you, Jan.”

Jan smiled sadly as Jaida’s movements began to slow.

“For everything.”

Their careful swaying came to a stop and Jaida reached up to hold Jan’s hands in her own. “But I can’t-”

“It’s okay.” Jan stopped her, cupping Jaida’s face gently with one hand. “I won’t take it personally.”

Jaida smiled sadly at her own words echoing back at her. She couldn’t fight the rush of emotion that filled her chest the longer she stayed fixed in place, breathing in Jan’s presence.

So she didn’t.

She let it wash over her in one ceaseless crash after another.

And then Jan let her go.

…

Jaida found Gigi and Nicky leaning up against the side of the school, cigarettes held loosely between red lips. Gigi coughed on every inhale, but the fire in her eyes kept her cigarette from going out.

Jaida approached the pair cautiously, careful to not trip over her dress.

The cheerleader tensed as she came closer, while Nicky looked between them warily.

“Gigi, can we talk?” Jaida asked, letting a bit of her frustration out in her tone.

Gigi swallowed around a cough and glared. “What? Still don’t wanna be seen with me?”

Jaida rolled her eyes, the past month’s worth of frustration and hurt spilling over. She didn’t think twice before pulling Gigi into a forceful kiss that they both felt in their toes. Gigi melted into the contact, fiery exterior melting away the longer Jaida’s lips pressed to hers.

They hadn’t ever properly kissed before, but it didn’t seem to matter, their mouths meeting in time, breath synching up almost subconsciously.

When they finally parted, resting their foreheads together, Nicky was nowhere to be found.

They didn’t speak as Jaida interlaced their fingers and led Gigi silently away from the school.

They climbed into Jaida’s truck, neither mentioning how this was the first time Gigi had sat in the passenger seat. They drove and drove and drove, Jaida’s eyes fixed on the road ahead of them, rather than the pit growing in her stomach. But Gigi’s warm hand on her thigh grounded her, kept her head from flying too far away from her shoulders.

Jaida’s mind was empty as the jet black road narrowed, leading up and up and up into the mountains just outside of town.

The Allstar chanced a look over at her passenger seat. She couldn’t read Gigi’s expression as the wind whipped her previously pristine hair into a tangle of blonde strands. The shimmer of her dress still reflected the sparse streetlights as they raced around countless switchbacks.

She looked beautiful.

Jaida pulled over at the next lookout point. Only when she turned the key did she notice she had been holding her breath.

They sat in the silence for a beat before Jaida felt herself stir, exiting the vehicle and hopping down onto thinly milled gravel.

Body on autopilot, she lowered the back hatch and crawled into the bed of her truck, ignoring the way her dress pulled at the seams from the movement. She offered a hand out to Gigi and the two sat against the back window.

Gigi curled to her side as if knowing this would be the last time she could, head fitted neatly on Jaida’s shoulder, the easy intimacy making the older girl’s stomach churn.

They didn’t say anything for a long while, Gigi running her fingers over the exposed skin of Jaida’s arms, Jaida staring at the stars like they would provide some answer to their predicament.

“This is it, huh?” Gigi finally whispered into the darkness, all anger and malice gone from her words.

Jaida felt her chest tighten.

“We’ve hurt too many people already.”

“So hurting us is gonna change that?”

Jaida shook her head and was surprised to find herself blinking back tears all of a sudden. “No,” she conceded, “but you know we can’t keep doing this.”

Gigi chuckled bitterly. “If I had a nickel for every time you said that.”

“It’s different now,” Jadia insisted.

“Because you can’t stand to be seen with me?” Gigi bit out. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

Jaida sighed. “Gigi-”

The cheerleader cut her off with a gentle touch to Jaida’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” She looked down to her hands, fingers flexing against the fabric of Jaida’s dress anxiously.

Jaida shook her head. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have started this in the first place.”

“I didn’t stop you.”

No, she hadn’t.

She didn’t know Gigi was in a relationship when they started their… arrangement. She assumed. Hell, Gigi looked like that, she must have had people lining up left and right for a chance with her. Jaida assumed there was someone in the picture, but she hadn’t cared. She was frustrated and burned out and it was only their sophomore year. She wanted to be reckless, screw the consequences. And that had worked out fine for a while. They fucked and pretended to be perfect strangers if anyone asked.

But one night, Jaida was shooting the ball around outside her house, attempting to perfect her three-point shot, when she caught sight of Gigi through the window. She had her head in her hands, brow knit in frustration over an open textbook on her desk. It was a completely ordinary scene. Nothing magical in the least.

And yet something took root in Jaida’s chest then, something she was never able to voice aloud.

Suddenly their hurried sessions between respective practices felt different.

Jaida had done her best to push it aside. Gigi was supposed to be her reprieve from thinking. She was supposed to be like basketball, muscle memory.

She didn’t know what to say. She could still barely process her own thoughts, let alone verbalize them.

“I’m-” She started, but Gigi pressed a delicate finger to her lips, face scrunched up in a wince, like Jaida’s words caused her pain.

“Me too.”

The air between them stilled. The only noises audible were the crickets in the distance and Jaida’s pounding heart.

Eventually, Gigi shifted up on her hands, draping herself over Jaida’s body slowly. She began trailing kisses up the length of Jaida’s exposed neck.

Jaida tensed at the contact.

“Let me,” Gigi whispered, breathing shaky. “Please.”

They hadn’t done this a lot. Their rendezvous usually focused on Gigi’s pleasure, seeing as she was the one that could go home after, but she had persuaded Jaida a few times in the past to let her explore.

Jaida always felt exposed afterward, laid bare. Raw.

Jaida met her gaze warily, but the sheer panic in Gigi’s eyes was what finally did it.

After a beat, she nodded.

Gigi’s lips curved up at the sides. It wasn’t a smile. Not by the half. Because it didn’t warm Jaida’s chest from the inside out the way Gigi’s smiles usually did.

She traced lines of muscle with her tongue, breathed words Jaida couldn’t hear against her skin, marking it as her own.

Jaida felt her skin itch like it didn’t belong to her anymore. If she were being honest she knew in her heart it never had been hers.

It had always been Gigi’s.

Before long, Jaida was panting open-mouthed into the thrumming night air as Gigi’s fingers made sharp circles over her clit, pulling the older girl closer and closer to the edge with every gasping breath.

Gigi pressed herself closer, her mouth to Jaida’s neck, her chest to her stomach. Jaida felt like she was on fire and her mind was blank and full at the same time and it was all too much and then Gigi spoke.

“Tell me you loved me.”

She sounded far too coherent for Jaida’s current mental state to process.

But she couldn’t think about that, couldn’t think much of anything because she was so close and so torn up inside.

“Gigi-”

The cheerleader cut her off, pulling her head back so Jaida could see her teary eyes.

“Lie to me.”

Jaida shut her eyes tightly, unable to look at Gigi directly anymore. She let out a shaky exhale as Gigi resumed her ministrations.

“I still do,” Jaida whispered into the night air.