#I guess imagine a mental image of a dark screen with text on it that says ''there's no one around right now''

[thethingything]

I just turned to talk to another alter as if there was someone co-fronting when there wasn't and had a little kind of mental notification saying "there's no one around right now" in my brain which is kind of ominous and not something I've seen happen before but sure I guess our brain's just doing whatever the fuck right now

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Pact - Date #3

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 7.7k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: none, BUT THE FLUFF IS COMING DOWN FULL FORCE YA’LL

a/n: don’t forget, I taking your guys’ comments/reactions into account for this series, so please let me know what your thoughts are! of course, at the end we’ll really take a deeper look at all of the dates and what stood out the most, but I would love to hear from you about this one!! love you all, enjoy!

Date #3

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The more time has passed, the more you fully come to realize that if you have been that affected by two dates, you are in no way prepared for the five that remain.

Nope. Not one bit.

It was Thursday when Jungkook finally texted to check that you were free around eleven. Your heart leapt, finally. A date that you wouldn’t have to spend all day moping around waiting for.

So obviously, you were ready by 9. You know, just in case.

You’d been instructed to wear casual clothes, something that you rejoiced in. Donning your sweater with the word Harvard in thick blue letters spanning the front and a pair of skinny jeans, you felt right at home.

The boys never missed a chance to tease you about your Harvard sweatshirt, and for some reason they never believed your lie that you actually went there. Of course, that might be due to the fact that they were very much aware of your current schooling situation and it was most definitely not Harvard.

But hey...attending one of the top universities in South Korea wasn’t bad, either.

Currently you were perched on the end of your bed, partly due to the fact that if you went anywhere else you would most certainly just end up staring out the window at every car that passed by. Not wanting to look like a nosy neighbor, you’d confined yourself to your room to wait out the morning.

In the hours that pass, your thoughts are completely occupied by the two boys you shared the last couple of Saturdays with.

It would be a lie to say that you don’t replay the image of Taehyung standing in your doorway every night as you tried to sleep, his hair a fluffy mess and that cable knit sweater proving to be your doom.

Your thoughts were usually interrupted as you took your bracelet off and stared at it, imagining Hobi delicately placing each individual bead it it’s place. It’s when your hand burns with the memory of his gentle kiss on your palm that you finally set the bracelet down and let out a frustrated sigh.

Yeah...Jimin was wrong when he invited you to just think of these as nice, friendly dates.

He probably knew it, too.

“Ok,” you breathe out, closing your eyes and focusing on the rise and fall of your chest. “Just...enjoy it.”

Enjoy it you shall.

That’s the thing that carries you through the waiting, still just breathing in and out and mentally preparing yourself for all that awaits you today.

You get so carried away in your attempts to calm down that the knock on your front door comes before you realize how much time has passed. Taking one more steadying breath, you get up from your bed and amble down the hallway to the door.

Pausing for a moment, you realize that you truly have no idea who might be on the other side of that door. The thought makes you smile. You’ve always loved a good mystery.

Cracking open the door, you can’t help but smile as the figure before you has their back turned to you. At the sound of your quiet giggle, they turn around, eyes a little wide.

A nervous smile in place, Namjoon leans forward ever so slightly. Almost as though he’s being pulled in by your personal gravity. “Morning,” he says almost as an afterthought, his voice low.

“Good morning,” you respond, throwing the door open the rest of the way. “So you’re lucky number three?”

“Well, you know what they say.”

You busy yourself with grabbing your bag and double checking that you have everything. “What do they say?”

Namjoon shrugs, his nervous smile growing until it’s bordering on giddiness. “Third time’s a charm.”

Indeed.

Once you’ve ascertained that you have everything you’ll need (you made sure to replenish your mint stash earlier this week), you’re stepping out into the slightly brisk air and locking the door behind you.

The sound of keys jingling near your ear has you turning to face Namjoon, who wears an oversized, dark plaid shirt that’s open to reveal his black t-shirt beneath it. The picture of casual coolness, paired with his dark wash jeans and sneakers, the look is complete with the way his dimples poke out as he holds up the keys to your eye level.

“Guess who’s driving?” He teases in a sing-song voice, making you laugh as you swipe the keys from him. As the two of you descend the stairs toward the car, you tilt your head to the side.

“How did you get here?” Then, turning to him with wide eyes, “You didn’t drive yourself, right?”

He’s quick to shake his head, pointing out a car that’s turning around at the end of your street and slowly making its way back toward you two. “The guys dropped me off.”

The thought of Namjoon in a car with some of the boys and the rest trailing after them in a separate vehicle is endearing, while also hilarious. “All of them?”

“Yep,” he confirms. “Every last one of them.”

As the car draws nearer, you see the windows roll down and someone with familiar black, fluffy hair sticks their head out. Like a dog pile, another head hovers beside them.

Taehyung and Jimin.

Oh, and there’s Jungkook somehow managing to wiggle in between them.

“We apologize in advance, jagiya,” Jimin croons loudly with a teasing smirk. “At least try to enjoy yourself.”

You snort, clicking the button to unlock the car and laughing even harder when Hobi jumps at the sound of the horn. He sits in the passenger seat beside Jin, who drives. The two merely wave before mumbling something to each other that makes them laugh.

“Where’s Yoongi?” You ask, frowning as you do a head count and not finding him anywhere. In response, a pale hand coming from what must be the very back row of the car worms its way forward to the open window. You swear you can almost hear his disgruntled greeting, but it’s drowned out as Taehyung excitedly speaks up.

“Good luck trying to beat me, hyung,” he teases, shooting Namjoon a sweet smile that’s at odds with his teasing comment.

Namjoon just shrugs, utterly unphased as he follows you around the car and opens the drivers side with smooth precision. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

This encourages a round of ooh-ing that only serves to make you laugh even as you tuck away the momentary competitive side of Namjoon. Calm, calculated, and - if you’re reading that steely look in his eyes correctly - utterly in the zone.

Oh, you’re definitely enjoying this way more than you should.

“Drive safe!” The boys shout out amidst jeering comments directed toward Namjoon and his lack of driving abilities. With a final wave, they’re speeding off down the street. Once they’ve disappeared from sight, you notice the way Namjoon’s shoulders relax. He hurries over to the passenger side, hopping in and buckling up before fiddling with his phone.

“So...where to?” You ask, buckled up and ready to go. You tap the steering wheel excitedly, already feeling hyped up from the short interaction with everyone.

You miss seeing them all together. There’s a reason why you’re friends with the entire group.

“I put the address into the car,” Namjoon explains. “It should give you directions as we go.”

Arching a brow at him, you don’t shift into drive just yet. “So I’m driving us there, but I don’t get to know what the end location is?”

Smiling softly, Namjoon nods. “Exactly. You’re so smart, have I ever told you that?”

Scowling, you press the green button that appears on the screen and a warm female voice instructs you to drive to the stop sign and turn left.

You hum, pondering the slightly sarcastic question. “I’m not sure. But that’s definitely a sign that you should tell me more often.”

“I’ll make note of that.”

With a glance at the screen, you see the estimated driving time. “We’re leaving Seoul?”

From your peripheral, you notice Namjoon’s worried expression. “Is that alright? We can find something to do around here, it’s just-”

“No,” you rush to reassure him. “I was just surprised, that’s all.” It won’t be a particularly long drive, just over an hour, but you certainly weren’t expecting that.

Something tells you that there are plenty more surprises waiting for you today.

It doesn’t take long before the two of you slip into an easy conversation, Namjoon relating his latest experiences in his efforts to add something eye-catching to his studio.

“Like what?” You ask. “I love your studio the way it is.”

Namjoon looks over at you, smiling softly. “Really? I don’t know...I just feel like something’s missing.”

“Well, we’ll keep an eye out for something today,” you promise, relaxing now that you’re on the freeway and in the flow of traffic. “Like, do you want something to hang up? Or something to go on your desk?”

He shrugs, taking a moment to roll his window down and close his eyes as it runs through his hair. “I already have a bunch of stuff on the wall, and if I put anything on my desk-”

“Right, you’ll spill on it.”

“Exactly.” You keep your eyes on the road, entirely missing the fond look he gives you.

“So basically, you don’t need anything.”

He huffs a sigh, rolling the window back up and sinking down into the seat. “No, I do, I just don’t know what.”

“Mmm.”

“Hey,” Namjoon cuts, giving you a dramatic glare. “Don’t mock me.”

Feigning innocence, you peek over at him. “I’m not!”

“Yah, just drive.”

“I am!”

Despite the bickering, you can’t fight the smile edging its way onto your features. A glance over at Namjoon shows that he’s having the same issue, his face turned away from you but failing to hide the silly grin he’s attempting to hide as his fingers curl at his lips. It’s a habit he’s had for as long as you’ve known him, one that often makes its way into many photos.

“Prepare to take exit 14,” the voice instructs, and you make your way over to the far lane, eyeing the looming sign that will announce what exit it’s for. Once the sign comes into view, you give Namjoon a puzzled look.

“We’re going to Anyang?”

It’s not that you have anything against the city, it’s just that...well, what is there in Anyang that isn’t in Seoul?

“See? Super intelligent.” It’s the only response you get from Namjoon, but it has you rolling your eyes in an effort to counter the butterflies that erupt in your stomach at the way he’s looking at you.

In a couple of minutes you’re turning onto a relatively quiet street, only a few random people mulling about, enjoying their weekend. Namjoon points out an entrance to a parking lot that you would have completely missed due to its hidden nature. Once you’re parked and dwarfed between the buildings surrounding the little lot, you jump out of the car and make a show of stretching your legs.

Namjoon mimics you, a loud yet satisfying yawn coming from him. “Hey, are you hungry now or are you good to wait a little while?”

You pause, internally wondering. “I think I’m good for a while.”

“Great.” Rubbing his hands together, he comes to stand beside you. “Let’s go, then.”

You fall into step beside him. “Woah, you still haven’t told me where- oh.”

The two of you have rounded a corner and now stand in front of a nondescript building. Its sage green paint is chipping a bit, giving it a rustic feel that is only accentuated by the gold lettering above the door.

Wanderers & Travelers

However, it’s not the homey feel or the tasteful name that has you stopping in your tracks. It’s what you see inside, through the large windows.

Without a single word, you step forward as though in a daze. The little bell above the door chimes as you walk in, announcing your arrival. And, as though the entire thing couldn’t get better, the scent hits you.

The smell of old and new books, some leather bound and some hard backed, dives into your senses and leaves you whirling.

The walls in here are painted some shade of sky blue, complementing the deep wood shelves. It’s quiet in here, the only sound being that of shuffling feet.

If you blink, you’re afraid it might all vanish.

“Oh! You’re here!”

Turning to your left, you see a woman with flecks of white in her hair, smiling warmly at you and Namjoon. If you’re being completely, honest, you’d nearly forgotten that Namjoon was there.

The woman descends the final few steps of the creaky staircase, keeping a friendly distance as she nods at the two of you. “You were right,” she remarks to Namjoon. Then, to you with a teasing smirk, “You look like you’ve never seen a bookstore before.”

You sputter for the right words. “I- yeah, but this-”

“Is no ordinary bookstore,” Namjoon finishes for you, a hand at your elbow. You can’t help but lean into his touch, momentarily forgetting the rows and rows of shelves just a few steps away as Namjoon involuntarily steps a little closer.

“Ah, right. Well, first thing’s first: I’m Choi Min-jee. And this is my bookstore,” she gestures to the endless rows of bookshelves, and you wonder for a moment how all of these can fit in the building. It looks so much smaller from the outside.

Min-jee motions for you to follow her, and she leads the two of you to the nearest bookshelf. “These books range in languages and age, you never know what you might find. This shop has been in my family for five generations now - we’ve collected our fair share of books and other antique items.” With a little wink, she steps back. “Take your time, and let me know if you have any questions. Oh, and the upstairs is open now.”

Namjoon perks up at this, looking over from where he’d pulled a book off the shelf. “Really? We’ll have to look up there!”

“Please do! I’m off to practice piano.” With that, she whisks away, leaving you to your own devices.

You stare after her in awe, mouth slightly ajar. It makes Namjoon chuckle quietly, he must know the feeling.

“I wanna be her when I grow up,” you whisper, earning a louder chuckle from the man.

“Same.” Namjoon heads deeper into the shelves, and you follow after him. He glances back at you over his shoulder. “This is my favorite place.”

“I take it you’re a regular?” You ask, eyes catching on a bright blue book with frayed binding. Pausing, you ease it from its spot. “Hm… ‘The Cottage by the Sea’.” You run my hand over the shiny inlay, a seashell glinting up at you. “Why do I feel like I just entered the world of ‘Little Women’?”

Namjoon snorts, wandering back over to you and gazing down at the book. He grabs the one that occupied the spot next to it on the shelf, the deep red absorbing in all the surrounding light. “You’re definitely Jo.”

“Really?” You ask, gently flipping through the first few pages and trying to find a publish date. “I always thought that I was more of an Amy.”

Namjoon looks appalled, tearing his eyes away from his book. “What? No. In what world are you Amy?”

“Hey! Don’t act like she’s a bad person,” You whine, bringing the book close to your chest. “She was just...trying to survive.”

Huffing loudly and obnoxiously, Namjoon heads over to the other aisle, peeking at you through the gaps in the shelf. “She got everything she ever wanted, without hardly having to ask for it. Are you telling me that you have everything you ever wanted?”

There’s a skylight above you, allowing the lazy afternoon sun to filter in and play with the lighter tones in Namjoon’s hair. He looks at you with his ferociously focused gaze, something that you had never squirmed under before but now find your cheeks burning as he doesn’t look away.

You sigh contentedly. “More or less. Look at me, I’m surrounded by books.”

Namjoon gets closer to the shelves, leaning down to be eye-level with you through the shelves. “So what’s missing?”

“Hmm?” You hum, getting a little lost as music starts up somewhere. You realize with a start that this must be what Min-jee meant by practicing piano, as the soft sound comes from somewhere hidden.

There’s a little smile on Namjoon’s face, just enough for a dimple to appear. “You said more or less. What are you missing still?”

Edging a little closer and nearly closing your eyes at the smell of leather, you’re tempted to reach through the shelf and poke at the little indent in his cheek. “Just your glasses, I think. I love it when you wear your glasses.”

The statement takes him by surprise, Namjoon’s dragon-like gaze dropping and a flush taking over his features before he steps back. “Hmph.” With that, he continues down the aisle, the red book still in his hands and the blue in yours. “I still think you would be Jo, though.”

“Why?”

The two of you match footsteps, languidly walking along the seemingly endless rows. You catch glimpses of him through the books, a soft dimpled smile on his face as he looks down at his feet. It’s enough to make your coy smile grow, and you clutch the book tighter to your chest.

Finally, Namjoon comes to a stop as another book catches his eye. You take the opportunity to round the corner and enter the aisle he stands in, feet carrying you closer to him. Just as you’re about to reach his side, he speaks.

“Jo is...well, for one, she’s a dreamer. And we both know you’ve got a lot of dreams in that head of yours.” He taps your forehead for emphasis, side-smile growing when you scowl. “But she’s a realistic dreamer. You’ve given up a lot for your dreams, but I believe that you’d leave it all behind if someone you loved was in need of you.”

You blink, unprepared for the genuine compliment.

“And,” Namjoon says breathily, sliding the book back into its place and turning on his heel to walk away. “You two share a tendency to be oblivious to others feelings for you.”

He keeps walking, leaving you to become a sputtering mess before launching yourself after him. “I- we what?!” You all but screech, wincing as you sound twice as loud in the empty shop. “I am not oblivious-”

With a triumphant smirk, Namjoon heads down a little slope that leads toward a sitting area. “Be honest with yourself. You wouldn’t have had any idea about the pact or anything if Jungkook hadn’t spilled it.”

“But that’s not my fault!” You defend, glaring defiantly at his back. “You guys had that under lock and key!”

Diving into another row, Namjoon looks contemplative. “Ok, that may be true. But tell me the truth: did you ever once suspect that...I don’t know, there might be something more going on? Even just once?”

You stand out in the main walkway still, frozen by his question. “Er…” Pausing to think, you squint down at the book still in your hands.

Of course there were moments that had your heart pumping a little faster and a blush rising to your cheeks. Movie nights always meant some form of cuddling, but you quickly just assumed that it was all part of the friendship. Good morning texts that made you sink back into your pillows with a lazy smile, or the little facts that one of the boys would remember about you always made you stop and wonder.

But you never actually entertained the idea. It all seemed too…

“Unrealistic,” you mumble aloud. When Namjoon looks at you quizzically, you walk down a few rows until something catches your eye. You delight in the fact that now he’s following you. “I guess I had little moments where I wondered, but it just seemed like wishful thinking.”

Stopping near the end of the row and looking up at the top shelf, you wiggle on your tip-toes trying to grab a book. Your fingers barely graze the spine of the book before a warm presence overshadows you and Namjoon’s fingers ghost over your own before tugging the brown book from its spot. Still pressed against your back, his light breathing makes the hair on the back of your neck tingle as he lowers the book into your waiting hands.

“Moments like this?” He whispers, hands coming to rest just above your hips.

Suddenly, you recall a moment from months before, when you’d been in a similar situation. The boys had invited you over for some breakfast on one of their rare morning’s off. You’d wanted some cereal, only to find the bowls on the very top shelf. Namjoon had come to your rescue, pulling the exact same move before awkwardly pausing and looking as though he’d wanted to say something. He hadn’t, and instead rushed out of the kitchen before you could even utter a ‘thank you’.

Turning around in his grasp, you can see that he wears a similar expression as before. This time, however, he looks determined to say whatever comes to mind.

With a quiet voice you whisper, “Who in their right mind puts bowls on the top shelf?”

Namjoon’s grip on your hips tightens as he throws his head back and laughs, the kind of laugh that sinks right into your bones. All you can do is watch him, feeling like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him. Perhaps it’s the first time you’ve ever allowed yourself to look freely.

“Ah, so you did notice,” he whispers back. “You acted like nothing happened, so I figured I was in the clear.”

With a roll of your eyes, you’re stepping out of his grasp and taking a look down at the new book in your hand. “With you, Mr. Kim, we’re never in the clear.”

He lets out a low hiss, but lets you walk away. Not like you realize he’s not following you anymore, you’re idly wandering around while thumbing through the mystery novel. It looks like it might be an original copy from one of your favorite authors. One that passed away in the 1950’s, but still stands out among the countless authors that have come after them.

You’ve made it down to the small sitting area, where a large fireplace is crackling.

“Huh,” you smile. As if this place couldn’t get any better. Plopping down on the couch, you let out a sigh at how the cushions sink and welcome you into their warm embrace. Setting the blue book off to the side, you open up the brown one and begin to read.

You’ve nearly completed the first chapter - knees tucked to your chest as you lean against the arm of the couch - when you hear footsteps approaching.

Expecting it to be Namjoon, you glance over your shoulder with a smile. It’s Min-jee, who returns the smile with a knowing look. You listen closely and realize that her piano practice must be over. Classical music plays over the speakers in the shop instead.

“Namjoon’s gone upstairs,” she explains, coming to adjust something in the fireplace. “He said something about finding an item for his studio.”

You close the book softly, stretching before sitting up straight. “What’s upstairs? More books?”

“No, we’ve expanded our antique selection, there’s an assortment of desks and chairs up there, among other things.”

Making an ‘o’ with your mouth, you get up. “This place is amazing, by the way.” You hold up the brown book with an excited expression. “I found this - I think it’s an original! How much is it?”

Min-jee makes her way over to you, smiling softly as she recognizes the book. “You’re a fan of this author too, huh? My grandad used to read these to me back before I had to start running the shop.” She offers you a fond look. “Oh, and Namjoon told me to put whatever you like on his tab. So don’t worry about it. Take the book.”

She must notice your shock, because she places a comforting hand on your shoulder and squeezes it gently. “He also told me that you might be hesitant to get anything because of that. But honestly, get it. And ‘The Cottage by the Sea’. That’s one of my favorites, actually.” Min-jee nods at the blue book with its golden seashell.

“Ah, he knows me too well,” you sigh. “This might be silly to ask, but...do you think it’s alright? You know, to just get them?”

Min-jee, to your eternal gratitude, doesn’t laugh at your question. Instead, she sees right through you, to the worry in your heart.  The last thing you want is to take advantage of any of the boys. “It would make him happy,” she responds, watching your reaction carefully. You immediately let out a sigh of relief, nodding and picking up the books.

“Alright,” you concede. “I’ll get them, then.”

“Great! I’ll take them up front and hold them for you, if you’d like.”

“That’s perfect.”

While she whisks away your books, you follow after her until you reach the staircase. She nods encouragingly, and you head up.

Clearing the stairs, it doesn’t take long to locate Namjoon. He’s standing in front of a large wardrobe, inspecting every inch of it. The sight makes you smile, enjoying the way he’s chewing on the inside of the cheek.

“Don’t tell me that’s what you’re getting for the studio,” you drawl, making your way toward him. He looks back at you, a wide smile interrupting his cheek chewing.

“I mean...no, but look at it!” He exclaims. “It’s beautiful, isn't it? Honestly, if I moved some things around, I could probably make it fit.”

You reach the wardrobe, marveling at the expert craftsmanship. “It’s gorgeous. But what would you even put in it? It’s not like you take all of your coats to the studio. And you want your trophies to be visible, don’t you?”

This thing must weigh a ton, the wood is thick and the hinges smooth. “Hmm...no, but I can think of something else I could hide away in here.” The way Namjoon glances over at you with a sly grin makes you stumble back, red rushing to your cheeks as you suddenly become preoccupied with a very old typewriter.

“What would that be?” You venture, running your fingers over the keyboard. You’re waiting for his answer, which you’re sure will be a single word - you. However, just as he’s opening his mouth and looking like he’s garnering the courage to say it, the creaky staircase announces someone’s arrival.

At first you think nothing of it, but Min-jee’s voice is loud. Loud enough that you know she’s trying to be heard.

“I told you, we don’t sell anything BTS related in this store.” She says, and you and Namjoon share a puzzled look.

A couple of voices respond, but one in particular stands out as she raises her voice. “I swear, I saw Kim Namjoon walking around in here just a few minutes ago!”

Their footsteps are growing closer, and you suddenly realize that this is Min-jee’s way of warning you two.

Rushing over to Namjoon’s side, you look around frantically. “Is there another way out?” You whisper. Clearly the staircase is blocked at the moment. When he shakes his head, you’re about ready to suggest causing a distraction but he suddenly gasps.

Quickly and quietly, he’s swinging open the wardrobe and nudging you inside, quickly following. You raise your eyebrows, mouth opening to ask him just how this is going to help anything, but he allows the door to swing shut and presses a hand against your mouth.

Back pressed against the back of the wardrobe and Namjoon looming over you, the two of you hardly dare to breathe as you strain to listen to what’s going on outside.

“I’m pretty sure I would know if he was in my shop,” Min-jee is saying, sounding much closer now. “And right now the upstairs is off-limits, so please-”

“Look, I know I must sound crazy, but I’m absolutely positive that I saw him in here. I was just outside and he went up the stairs! And now you expect me to believe what you’re saying?”

You keep your eyes trained on the thin opening where light is streaming in, trying to see what’s going on. Namjoon, however, shuffles a little closer, hand slipping from your mouth and staring down at you. He braces his hands on either side of your head, needing to bend over a little bit due to the small space.

“For the last time,” Min-jee defends, “the upstairs portion of this shop is closed. As you can tell, nobody is up here besides us. If you wish to continue this conversation, I would simply ask that we do it downstairs.”

You bite your lip, looking up at Namjoon and about to whisper something about how Min-jee deserves a raise. The words die on your tongue, however, when you finally catch sight of him.

Namjoon is slouching a bit, and you realize that his hands are on either side of your head. His hair is slightly mussed, from what you’re unsure. However, that’s not what has your breath catching in your throat.

He’s looking down at you in a way that suddenly makes you aware of just how small the wardrobe is, and has you mentally cursing yourself for coming up here in the first place. Namjoon is looking at you, looking at you in a way that you immediately recognize.

Like it’s the first time he’s allowed himself to.

You watch the way his eyes follow the way your throat constricts as you swallow, the way they trace the slope of your nose and the dip above your lip.

The voices fade away as Namjoon’s fingers feather through your hair, light enough to make your heart melt. He does so slowly, eyes reading your own in order to see if he’s somehow crossed a line that he shouldn’t have.

You, however, are sick of all these dumb lines and boundaries that have been set. Somehow, Namjoon must see that, because he’s opening his mouth and whispering out what he’s been thinking this entire time.

“You,” he mumbles as he watches the strand of hair he tucks behind your ear. Almost as though to verify that this is real, that it’s actually happening. “I’d tuck you away in here, and nobody would find us.”

Breathing has become impossible at this point.

“No prying eyes, no invisible lines to make sure I don’t cross,” he’s tracing the line of your jaw now, and you don’t miss the slight tremor in his hand. “Would you like that as much as I would?”

His eyes land on yours, eyebrows coming together as he awaits your answer. You would smile if you could, but you find that you’ve turned to putty at his touch. Instead, you slowly nod before breathing out, “Yes.”

That’s when you realize that Namjoon is just as tired of rules as you are. Namjoon, the dedicated leader that always makes sure everything is in order. Namjoon, who constantly forgets things like his phone and wallet, but never forgets to say please and thank you.

Namjoon, who leans impossibly closer until you’re closing your eyes for fear of going cross-eyed. His breath fans across your nose, acting as your only warning before his lips find yours.

Light as a feather against your mouth, Namjoon kisses you.

As you sigh against his lips, you suddenly understand why kissing was prohibited. Because right now, all that you can think of - every breath, every heartbeat - it’s all saying the same thing.

Namjoon.

Just as your hands find their way to his chest and bunching up the fabric, he’s jumping back with a gasp and stumbling through the door of the wardrobe. You see his wide eyes, but you’re too busy standing there completely frozen and praying that nobody is up here still.

He looks around frantically, but looks at you with utter horror as the same voice as before pipes up from downstairs.

“See! I’m telling you that someone is up there-”

“Oh! Did you see that? I think I just saw him taking the emergency exit!” Min-jee retorts, and you can picture her frantically pointing out the window in an effort to distract the girls. “Hurry! He looked like he was running!”

The bell above the door chimes, excited voices fading as the group exits the shop. However, their timely exit does little to soothe the raging heartbeat pounding against your ribs.

“I- I’m not supposed to do that,” Namjoon reminds himself aloud. “Please, I’m so sorry-”

“They’re gone!” Min-jee calls out, poking her head up as she ascends the stairs. She spots you still standing in the wardrobe. “Oh, so that’s where you were hiding. Anyway, I’ve locked up the front, so we shouldn’t be having any more trouble with that.”

You can only offer her a weak smile, Namjoon still staring at you with that horrible, guilt-ridden expression, which you’re dying to erase.

“Thank you,” you say when Min-jee begins to notice the odd silence. “We’ll be down in a second, I think.”

Namjoon nods along, finally looking away to check the time. “Actually, we’ve got a reservation,” your stomach flips at the thought of sitting through an entire meal with his guilty apologies, “is there a way we can sneak out of here without being seen?”

Min-jee blinks, looking between the two of you but not saying anything. “Ok...um, yeah. The back alleyway should be clear, it’ll lead to the parking lot.”

Finally stepping out of the wardrobe, you look back at it with a glare.

“So much for Narnia,” you mumble, closing the door.

ˆˆˆˆ

Min-jee quickly places your books in a bag - Namjoon ends up getting the red one as well - and offers it to you with a smile. Automatically you reach out for it, but so does Namjoon. The second your hands meet you can’t help but jump, and the bag falls to the floor.

“Oh no,” you whimper out, feeling sorry for the old books. Before you can lean down to get them, Namjoon’s swooping them up and keeping a firm grip on the bag. He mumbles out a soft, “sorry” before following Min-jee toward the back exit.

The two of you thank her profusely for the day, and you promise that you’ll return soon. There’s no way you can leave a place like that alone for very long. Namjoon smiles for a moment, looking pleased that he picked a good place. However, once he catches your eye, he’s back to chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Slyly sneaking down down the alleyway, it’s quiet between the two of you. No matter how hard you pinch yourself, your thoughts keep zoning in on the way Namjoon’s lips felt on yours...the way he looked at you just before he leaned in...how perfect everything had been until he’d come to his senses-

You’ve made it to the car, and you click the unlock button, jumping back as it honks. Man, you’ve got to get out of your head.

Namjoon hurries to set the bag in the backseat before rushing to the driver’s side, opening the door up for you with significantly less flourish than before.

Knowing Namjoon, it’s eating him up alive. And there’s no way you’re about to let a kiss - something to celebrate, in your opinion - ruin the rest of this date.

Especially when it may very well be the only one you get.

“Namjoon,” you say, walking slowly toward him. His eyes jump up to yours, and you can already see that he’s hard at work trying to pretend like everything is fine.

“We’re going to be about an hour early for our reservation,” Namjoon admits, running a hand through his hair and immediately trying to fix it after. “I’m sorry for rushing you out of there, I wasn’t thinking straight. You can go back in, if you want. I’ll wait out here until you’re ready-”

“Namjoon.” He quits his rambling, red cheeks somehow turning redder as you stop before him. “I wanted you to kiss me.”

At this, he lets the door fall shut. “You...did?”

Wanting nothing more than to dispel the awkward tension, you laugh. “Of course I did! I’d be an idiot if I didn’t! So please...it’s nobody’s fault. So what, you broke a stupid rule-”

“And I’ve hurt the guys in the process of breaking that rule,” Namjoon explains, looking at you with clear, pained eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t me regretting kissing you because- w-well, that’s not the point!” Leaning back against the car, you follow suit just as a large stormcloud blocks out the sun. It’s going to rain soon.

“Namjoon, you’ve all found ways to skirt around the rules in some way,” you confess, remember Hobi’s sweet hand kiss and Taehyung’s forehead kiss. “Sure, you actually broke the rule, but nobody is going to hate you for it. Nobody. Least of all me.”

He leans his head back, closing his eyes as he lets out a long breath. “It’s just, we all agreed to give you enough space to make a clear decision if you felt like you wanted to make one at the end of all this,” he confesses, not seeing the way your eyes widen. Oh. “And I’ve completely screwed that up.”

Sighing, you squint as a fat raindrop lands on your nose. “Well, we’re on a date, aren’t we? People sometimes kiss- I mean, honestly, we could have done a lot worse-” Namjoon chokes on his spit at that. “But if you need something to blame, please don’t blame yourself. Because I love this date, and as far as I can tell, the kiss only made it better.”

He peeks one eye open at you. “Really?”

“Really.” You shrug. “And see? I really am Amy! I always get what I want!” You don’t add the fact that that wasn’t quite true with Hoseok or Taehyung. “If anything, blame the wardrobe. Wardrobes are wacky, anyways.”

Namjoon snorts, rolling his eyes. “Blame the wardrobe? Really?”

“Yeah! Sometimes they transport you to Narnia, sometimes they mess with your common sense,” you give him a pointed look, which he avoids. “So if the boys get all upset about it, just tell them it was the wardrobe. I’ll back you up on it.”

Finally, Namjoon laughs. Like, the annoying little hyena laugh that he hates but you secretly love. And when he looks back down at you and opens up the door, he doesn’t look so upset about it.

“Be honest, would you have rather gone to Narnia or been stuck in there with me?”

You feign annoyance. “Ugh, just get in the car.”

From the way your stomachs were rumbling and the rain was pouring, the two of you decided to bag the reservation. It was for some posh outdoor restaurant in Seoul that Namjoon pretended to be excited about.

Which is exactly how you ended up going through the McDonald’s drive thru and bringing it back to your place.

“Aren’t you on a diet or something?” You ask around your fries, eyes not leaving the television screen. The two of you had decided on Gone With the Wind, completely forgetting just how long it was.

Namjoon makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, taking a swig of his drink. “Yeah, something like that. Today’s my cheat day, though.”

“Aw, you decided to spend your cheat day with me?” You tease. Namjoon rolls his eyes, finally deciding that maybe you really are Amy from Little Women. However, he can’t fight the feeling that he’s the Laurie to your Jo.

Not that he’ll be telling you that anytime soon. He’s certainly done enough today.

“More like our date happened to fall on my cheat day,” he bites back. “And I heard that they have really good cheesecake at that restaurant we bailed on.”

You hesitate before taking another bite of your food. “Should we have gone? They probably would’ve given us our food to go if we didn’t want to sit under the umbrellas. I feel bad, you made reservations and everything.”

Namjoon shrugs. “No, this is way better.” He holds up his McFlurry for emphasis. “They even had the cheesecake McFlurry back in season! Coincidence?”

“I think not!”

You both chuckle before falling back into the companionable silence you’d been in before. Over the course of the drive back to Seoul, you’d taken your time, stopping at a handful of little parks along the way. Namjoon had imitated the ducks before realizing how silly he looked, then hiding behind his hands for a solid five minutes before he could look you in the eyes again. Overall, it had been calm and relaxing.

As you watch Scarlett O’Hara flirting it up with different suitors on the screen, you can’t help but wonder if that’s you.

Sure, Gina told you back at the haunted house to just enjoy it. Chances are it was all just a phase, anyways. There was all of this romantic tension between you and the boys that would naturally fade away as their curiosity diminished after their dates.

At least, that’s what you assumed. However you’re quickly coming to realize that you’re a little out of depth here.

“You alright over there?” Namjoon asks, pulling you from your thoughts. “You have your thinking face on.”

You blink. “I have a thinking face?”

“Of course,” Namjoon replies as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You gonna tell me what’s got you so stressed?”

“No,” you say a little too quickly. “I’m just...thinking about the movie.” Not entirely a lie.

You know he won’t push it if you don’t want to talk about it, but you take a little bit of enjoyment in the way his lip pouts out. “Alright, if you say so.”

Only a few more minutes pass before he speaks up again, sounding a little hesitant. “You know that this is a long movie…”

“Oh, should we end it here?” You ask, a little disappointed because you were just getting to one of your favorite parts. “You don’t need to feel like you have to stay-”

“No, not that. I’m gonna finish the movie. It’s just,” he wipes his fingers off on a spare napkin before scooting a little closer to you. “Long movies call for cuddling, don’t you think?”

You nearly choke on your saliva. “You- you, as in Kim Namjoon, want to cuddle? You’re into cuddling?”

He laughs, tugging on your arm until you give in and collapse against his side. You hope that your content sigh isn’t too noticeable when he drapes an arm around your shoulder. “It just depends sometimes. But yes, I am. At the appropriate times.”

“Ah, and long movies-”

“Are the epitome of the appropriate time,” he explains, lightly pinching your arm when you let out a wry laugh.

“Hey!” You cry out, only to be shushed by him.

“Shhh, I’m trying to watch this.”

You just can’t find it in you to be annoyed.

You’re asleep before the film is over, despite the fact that the sun barely went down. Something about having a full stomach and leaning your head on Namjoon’s shoulder just lulled you right to sleep.

You stir a little when Namjoon fidgets, pulling his phone out to call someone. His voice is deep and quiet, trying not to wake you.

“Hey, can you pick me up now?”

Despite your half-asleep state, you crack a smile. It’s quiet, but you can hear a familiar voice on the other side of the phone.

“Yeah, I’m close to there right now. Be there in a couple minutes. You’re at her apartment, right?”

“Thanks. Yeah, she’s conked out on the couch.”

There’s a laugh ringing through the phone. “Cute. Make sure she rests up, she’ll need it for our date next week.”

Namjoon sighs, not quite annoyed but not exactly pleased, either. “Yah, just hurry over.” He pauses for a moment. “Do you think I should wake her up to say goodbye?”

“Your call. But I mean, it’s not like you’re gonna give her a kiss goodbye. If she’s that tired, I’d just let her sleep.”

Your cheeks involuntarily turn red, and you can only imagine the way Namjoon looks right now. It’s his silence that gives him away.

“Hyung...what-”

“Text me when you get here,” Namjoon says, and suddenly the call ends.

Oh, he’s in for it tonight.

Stretching and trying to look like you totally weren’t just eavesdropping, you crack open your eyes to see Namjoon looking down at you with an amused expression.

“I would tell you that you missed the ending, but something tells me you’ve seen it before,” he drawls.

You chuckle breathily, yawning as you stretch your arms over your head. “Yeah, a couple of times.”

“I’m about to head out,” Namjoon begins, back to chewing on the inside of his cheek. “But thank you for going out with me. I seriously...it was just the best.” He smiles softly, and you wish you could have a picture of it.

Instead, you opt for nuzzling back into his side. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one thanking you? It was great, Namjoon-ah. I’ll have to read that book you got some time.”

He hums, returning the sentiment. “Yeah, we’ll do a book swap.” His phone lights up, but before you can see who it’s from, he’s snatching it up and jumping up from the couch. “They’re here.”

It’s tempting to not resort to begging him to stay a little longer - if only for the sake of his warmth which is quickly fading as he retreats to the door. However, you only pad after him, stopping him before he reaches the door.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his chest. “Tell everyone I say hello.”

“I will.” And with a rush of cool air, he’s out the door.

Gone, leaving you to stare blankly and wonder what just happened today.

And worse yet, what’s yet to come.

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again, I’d love to hear from you! ESPECIALLY BECAUSE THINGS ARE ESCALATING!! thoughts, what you liked, what you didn’t, what’s been your fav so far...general screaming, it’s all great. THANK YOU!!!

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[mrsluttystark]

Repeat After Me Part 2

Part 1 

You guys have no idea how much it meant to me that part 1 was so well received. Thank you from the bottom of my little starker heart! 

Tags: nff, age difference, former teacher/student, mention of daddy kink, mention of choking

Word count: 3.1k

Read below the cut

Peter wakes up five minutes before his alarm, like he always does.  He absolutely hates the shrill screech of it.  His bed creaks and groans as he sits up and swings his legs over the side.  Suddenly, the springs that had previously been holding him up collapse under him, making him yelp in surprise.  Peter made a mental note that maybe it was time for a new bed, he’d been holding on to the rickety twin mattress he had all his childhood since it was the only thing he had left from May’s.

He usually went into the lab on Saturdays, even though he was supposed to be off during the weekend.  It’s not like he has plans or anything, but he guesses he could shift his schedule around a little to go mattress shopping.

His arm darts out like clockwork and taps his screen to turn the alarm off before his phone could utter the first mind melting ring. Peter runs a hand through his hair to brush some stray curls out of his face and stretches before getting out of bed to do his morning routine.

It’s not until Peter sits down at his two-seater dining table with a bowl of captain crunch berries, two pieces of toast, and a cup of earl gray tea, does he finally check his phone.  

The spoon is barely out of his mouth when he sees the notifications.  Eyes wide, he chokes on the cereal trying to force its half chewed self down his throat.  He can taste the oat milk is his nose and it is not good. 

Mr. Stark accepted his friend request and messaged him?  Peter looked around his apartment, skeptical.  Was he dreaming? Was this one of those life-like dreams where he gets ready for the day then wakes up and has to do it all over again?  He looked down at his arm, should he pinch himself? No, Peter, that’s stupid.

He shook his head and looked at his phone again, opening the Messenger app.

Hey, Kid.

Shit, he was toast.  Collecting himself, Peter took a deep breath to prepare himself for a conversation with his former high school teacher (that he may or may not want to fuck him senseless and cuddle afterward). He racked his brain thinking about how to approach this.  Should he be bold? 

Hi, Daddy. Please cum down my throat? Yeah...that might be too bold.

Hello, Mr. Stark.  I humbly thank you for accepting my friend request.  Ugh, too weird.

He’s overthinking it, he knows. Peter types out and deletes maybe five more messages before he finally settles on:

09:10 am 

Hi, Mr. Stark.  It’s Peter.

09:11 am

Parker.

Peter threw his phone down on the table and put his head in his hands, bowl of cereal soggy and forgotten. He made a face at it and pushed the bowl away, pulling his toast closer.  He took bites of a slice distractedly and washed it down with some tea.  He’d regret not eating a proper breakfast later, but right now his appetite was replaced with a turning feeling that he couldn’t quite place.  His phone vibrates on the table, startling him from his thoughts.

From Tony Stark 09:22 am

Yeah, Peter.  I did read your name on your profile.

09:23 am

Right. Sorry.

From Tony Stark 09:23 am

Don’t worry about it, Kid. Just pokin’ fun.

09:24 am

(sweating emoji)

Thanks for accepting my friend request btw, Mr. Stark.

From Tony Stark 09:26 am

No big deal, thanks for the request, it’s been a while.

And Tony is fine, you’re not my student anymore, Pete.

09:26 am

Yeah, okay. Tony. I can do that

So you remember me?

From Tony Stark 09:27 am

I remember all my students

09:27 am

Really???

From Tony Stark 09:28 am

No, not really lol

But I do remember you, you were a lot skinnier back then.

09:30 am

(eye roll emoji) And you were a lot younger 

From Tony Stark 09:31 am

Ouch, that was uncalled for

09:32 am

You asked for it

So what have you been up to?

From Tony Stark 09:34 am

I’m a mechanical engineer now, quit teaching a few years ago. What about you?

09:35 am

That’s awesome! You were way too smart to be a teacher.

I’m a research chemist

From Tony Stark 09:38 am

Thanks, kid.

That’s about where I’d thought you’d end up, as smart as you are.

09:40 am

Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Stark

Tony*

Sorry.

From Tony Stark 09:40 am

Everywhere?

09:41 am

Everywhere.

From Tony Stark 09:50 am

Say, Pete. I don’t actually have a habit of checking this app and I’m about to head out of the house for the day.  I’d like to continue this conversation, so here’s my number if you wanna text me [hidden contact information].

No pressure of course.

From Tony Stark 09:53 am

Peter?

New Message

To: Tony

You know who I am.

From: Tony

Had me there for a second kid. 

I’m about to drive, I’ll text you in a bit.

Peter put his phone down for the first time in almost an hour, eyes straining to refocus after staring at his screen intensely for so long.  His heart was pounding in his chest and his cheeks were starting to ache from smiling.  Had that really happened? Peter brought a hand up to rub at his jaw, still in a daze.  He was finding it very hard to believe that this wasn’t some elaborate dream because there is absolutely no way that this could’ve happened in real life.  Talk about a glitch in the simulation.

He really got Tony Stark’s phone number, and he didn’t even have to ask for it!

Peter scoffed in disbelief, no fucking way! He opened the Facebook app again and went to Tony’s profile.  Turns out there wasn’t much else on it, he had a total of 3 profile pictures and less than 100 friends, none of which were other students and only a few midtown teachers.  So, he either was a very private person or he didn’t use Facebook at all.  And if it was the latter (or both for that matter), why did he accept Peter’s friend request in the first place?

Peter decided not to think about it right now.

He went to his profile pictures and glanced at the current one he already studied last night.  The previous one was just the Guns N’ Roses album cover for Appetite for Destruction.  Classic Rock fan, noted.  His first profile picture, though, was an absolute masterpiece.  Tony looked to be on a beach somewhere, his hair was wet and messy from the clear blue salt water.  Peter wanted to run his tongue over every inch of the olive toned skin exposed to the sun.  His smile was radiant, framed by neatly trimmed facial hair, with thick, dark eyebrows peeking over his sunglasses.  Swung low on his hips right below a toned stomach were hot rod red swim shorts that stopped in the middle of his thigh, showing off his tan legs dusted with dark hair.

Peter tried not to look, he really did, but he could not stop his eyes from landing on the older man’s crotch.  And he was not disappointed.  There, curving onto his thigh, was a long, thick unmistakable dick print.  Peter’s mouth watered at the sight as his own cock stirred with interest.

Fuck. He wondered how big he really was in person.  How far he could take it down his throat.  He wanted to know how it would feel to be stretched and filled by Tony’s cock.

Scooting his chair back abruptly, Peter shot up off of it.  His hard-on tenting almost painfully in his pajama pants and it was starting to create a wet spot.  Mattress shopping can wait, Peter needed to cum, like, yesterday.

He rushes to his room and yanks the drawer of his night stand open, revealing a wooden box.  Peter unlatches the box and grabs a bottle of lube and his veiny lifelike vibrating dildo with a suction cup right behind the silicone balls from his small collection.  This one was by far his favorite, it’s eight inches long and he loved feeling the veins and the girth of it filling him up. 

Peter lays a towel down on his bed and climbs to the middle, carefully avoiding the new dent in the mattress. He bunches up the pillows behind his back so he’s laying at an incline, then starts rubbing himself over his pajama pants while he uncaps the lube and squeezes some onto his fingertips. Clumsily, he pulls and shimmies his pants down his hips with his left hand, breath hitching when his heated erection makes contact with the cool air in his apartment.  It lands with a light smack against his abs and Peter tugs his shirt up and under his chin.  Kicking his pants off his bed, Peter spreads his legs.  He can feel his hole puckering in anticipation of being used.

His left hand begins lightly skimming his torso, feeling his abs contract under his finger tips.  Bringing them higher, he rubs across his chest, pinching his nipples softly.  Peter rubs the lube between his thumb and forefinger to warm it up, then starts rubbing the tight ring of muscle in circles, making his cock jump.

Once he’s coated, he sinks a finger in slowly to coax himself open.  His left hand continues caressing his body, skirting across the area right above his cock.  Peter lets out a plethora of whines and pants, eyes screwed shut at the feeling.  The image of Tony’s face urging him to take another finger.

He knows Tony’s fingers would be thicker, stretching him wider than Peter ever could with his own.  The younger man hoped his former teacher would be able to handle him the way he wanted.  Peter imagined large, strong hands encircling his throat while the other gripped hard on his hips while he took him.

Three of his fingers are buried deep in himself before he even touches his neglected, leaking cock.  His left hand comes to collect the precum pooling at the head and dribbling down his shaft, allowing his hand to glide along his hot skin. He strokes himself lazily as he pulls his fingers out and reaches for the dildo.  Uncapping the lube again he slicks up the silicone and brings it to his open, waiting hole. 

Pulling his left hand off of his cock, Peter grabs one of the pillows and stuffs it under the small of his back.

He imagines Tony looking down at him with dark, analytical eyes, watching Peters every movement.  The rise and fall of his chest, his heaving breaths.  The way Peter keens when he’s stretched like he longs for the sting of it.  Would he fuck into him slowly or would he seath himself in one smooth, quick stroke?

Peter chooses the latter.

He cries out as he pushes the dildo balls deep into his ass without pause.  The pain from the stretch mixes deliciously with pleasure.  Sweat beading on his forehead has Peter’s curls sticking wetly to his skin.  His entire body is covered in a thin sheen of it.

The young man turns onto his left side, dildo still deep inside him.  Peter reaches around his back with his right hand and grips the bottom of the suction cup.  He sighs, easing the dildo out slowly before pressing the button at the base of the shaft to turn on the vibration and ramming it into himself once more.

Tony would be taking him from behind, a long arm encircling Peter’s body, hand coming to grip him at the base of his neck, right above his collarbone so that he could pull the younger man down and onto his thick cock while he fucks up into him.  

Peter continued to fuck himself roughly with the dildo while he thought of Tony’s hard body doing it to him instead.  He’d whisper dirty things in Peter’s ear while he fucked him.  Tell him that he’s such a good little slut for his teacher.  Peter whined at the thought, he’d love it if Tony let him call him Mr. Stark in bed.

He starts stroking his cock faster, feeling his orgasm build in the pit of his stomach.  His right arm is starting to get tired from fucking the dildo into his ass for so long, he’s gotta cum soon.

Peter’s eyes fly open when he hears his phone vibrate through the thrumming in his ears.  It’s a text from Tony.

How’s my favorite student? Miss me?

That does it.  Peter’s entire body jolts as he cums all over his hand and the towel he laid on the bed, a high whine caught in his throat. 

He’s still trying to catch his breath a few minutes later, after he eases the dildo out and places it on the towel.  He wipes his hand off on it as well before he grabs his phone.  He definitely needs a shower now. Then he’ll go to the mall.

To: Tony

Don’t flatter yourself

To: Tony

Maybe a little

-

Tony can’t help but smile at his phone, he might have been a little too eager with the message, typing it up as soon as he put his car in park.  The easy banter going on between him and Peter was refreshing.  Tony couldn’t remember the last time he felt genuinely excited to talk to someone, let alone text.

As the conversation kept flowing while Tony picked up his dry cleaning, he could only deduce that it was because they were nearly equal on an intellectual level.  It may have helped that Peter was easy on the eyes as well.

They talked about their projects at work and the research behind it, what it was like at Columbia for Peter, and how MIT had been to Tony.  The older man made a mental note to ask where Peter worked at a later date, maybe he could recruit him.  He learned that Peter’s favorite colors were blue and red.  That he hated horror movies but watched them anyway just to spite himself.  He loved rom-coms and (surprise, surprise) sci-fi movies.  He couldn’t cook to save his life, Tony assured him he could give him lessons if he wanted, he could make a mean Chicken Piccata.

Tony couldn’t even bring himself to feel guilty about it at all.  The conversation was innocent and Tony was a flirt by nature, Pepper never had a problem with it.  If anything, this thing with Peter was just a budding friendship.  The universe knows Tony needed someone to talk to.

Around noon, Tony’s stomach started to grumble, not surprising considering the hearty breakfast of black coffee he had this morning.  Peter mentioned earlier that he’d been craving Gyros, and that didn’t sound half bad right about now.  He was a few blocks away from the mall anyway.

From: Peter

Here’s a contact picture, in case you needed one...

[see attachment]

The picture Peter sent was absolutely adorable.  His bangs fell over his forehead, slightly parted to the side so it wasn’t completely covered.  Tony felt utterly entranced by the younger man’s smile and the way his left eyebrow looked like he’d slept with his face buried in a pillow.  He was wearing a T-Shirt with a science pun on it, as if the kid couldn’t be any dorkier.  Tony loved it.

To: Peter

Is that a sly way of getting me to send you a selfie back?

Cute shirt by the way, where ya headed?

From: Peter

Maybe...did it work?

I’m going shopping for a new mattress, old one crapped out on me.

To: Peter

Here, since you asked so nicely

[see attachment]

From: Peter

Oof, you can just delete mine.  You just made me go from a solid 6 to like a 2

To: Peter

Hey, give yourself some credit, you’re definitely at least a 5

KIDDING, I’d rate you a solid 9, kid. Just because there’s always room for improvement

From Peter:

I would just like to know who gave you the right to be so sassy and RUDE

To: Peter

Definitely my narcissistic ego

No, but seriously Pete, you’re stunning.  Don’t listen to the old guy

From: Peter

Pls you’re not that old, Tony.

To: Peter

A man after my own heart.  Thanks, kid.

From: Peter

Anytime :-)

You’re more like my friend’s hot dad if anything

To: Peter

Little shit.

From Peter:

;-)

Tony shook his head fondly and stuffed his phone in his pocket as he entered the mall, looking around for something indicating what direction the food court was in.  He hadn’t been to this mall in a while, he admits since he’s been making more money it’s kept him from coming and eating the fast food they had here.  So he followed the signs until he got to the food court, and noticed there were still quite a few tables open for him to sit and eat at.  He made a point to stay as far away from the family with three screaming children as possible.

He scanned the choices until he found somewhere that had gyros and went to go stand in line.  The menu wasn’t too extensive, he could either get a gyro platter or a falafel platter, and he already knew what he was here for.  His eyes fell from the menu to the person in front of him.  Not to be a creep, he’s only human, but he had a fantastic ass.  A perfect little bubble butt.

The man was a little shorter than him, he had a trim waist that opened up to broad shoulders not bigger than Tony’s.  Incredible figure.  He’s probably a dancer or a marathon runner.  He also noticed this man had brown curls.  That made him snort softly to himself, he either had a type or Peter just invaded his mind in a short amount of time.  It could be either, honestly.

His eyes dropped to the phrase printed on the back of his shirt.

Never trust an atom, they make up everything

Ha.  Peter would love that shirt.

Wait.

Peter has that shirt.  It’s the one he was wearing in his selfie.

“Peter?”

The man in front of him whirled around to look at him with a puzzled expression.  Tony suddenly found himself unable to move or say another word.  He was instantly captivated by doe eyes and one of the prettiest faces he’d seen in a long time.

He watched his confusion turn into realization and then disbelief and dare he say: panic.

“Tony?”

@sweetqueen449, @slut-for-starker, @dim-ships-johnlock, @starkerhowlter, @sthefystarkersworld, @crazycocococonut, @bris-sins, @delicateavenuenacho, @ironspiderstarker, @katzenbaby1, @spider-iron-man, @rebel13lion39, @twokinkybeans, @frenchfrostpudding, @cherrygoldlove, @silkystarkk, @icandoakickflip, @irondaddio, @briesb1tch

creds to @problemchildnoonewanted for some of the messages in the beginning

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

summertime sadness .5.

work day

Sequel to kiss me in the d-a-r-k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (masterlist under construction)

Warnings: dub con sex (fingering)

This is dark!(dad)Steve and dark(professor!)Bucky explicit. 18+ only. I know they aren’t super dark, but like questionable so I’m keeping those tags just to be safe.

Summary: Loki adds to your workload.

Note: Right, here we go, here we go, here go again. Girls, what's my weakness? Men! Sorry, minor detour there but are we ready for the darkness? Y'all hold onto your panties. Thanks everyone for their support and I love you all! 💋

<3 Let me know what you think in a reblog, reply, or like. I’m loving the feedback from y'all and the enthusiasm! Also as always, memes accepted.

💋💋💋

You didn’t sleep much. Every time you closed your eyes, the scene flashed behind your eyelids. Loki standing over you, the image on his phone, his hand on your chin. And then you thought of Bucky. It was hard not to; your phone buzzed all night as you ignored his messages. Steve’s too. It had finally caught up to you and it felt worse than you could imagine. A man you admired thought you nothing more than a floozy. Well, maybe you were.

Saturday shone through your window and you rolled over. You were exhausted; mentally, emotionally. Your hours were spent reprimanding yourself. Going over all your mistakes; every single choice that had led to such disaster. You sat up and rubbed your eyes. You moved slowly, your body cramped from the tension.

The grind of your coffee machine filled the apartment as you sat at your desk. A mark of your guilt. A gift from one illicit lover; another having defiled you a top it. A year ago, to think of all that had transpired, you would’ve been appalled. You were. You’d sold your integrity for fleeting pleasures. You felt cheated. By yourself more than any.

You filled a mug and grabbed your phone from beside your bed. You hadn’t looked at it since you laid down the night before. Missed calls, unanswered texts, unread emails. You answered Bucky first, a simple ‘I wasn’t feeling well. Sorry.’ Besides, he had plans with Tanya, or was busy dodging her.

You texted the same to Steve and his response was swift. Your phone vibrated as his ID flashed across the screen and you answered the call after several rings. You were weak, breathless.

“Hey,” You said quietly and sipped your coffee.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked.

“Fine,” You lied poorly. “Work’s kept me busy and… I guess it’s gotten ahead of me.”

“Oh,” He uttered. “Any plans today?”

“Rest,” You shrugged and sat back in your chair. “After I sort through all my work emails and catch up.”

“Bucky?” He asked.

“I… I’m tired.” You grumbled. “I… need a break.”

“I’m sure work would understand if you took a day to yourself.” Steve said.

“No, no, I can’t do that,” You said suddenly. “I wasn’t talking about work.”

“What do you--”

“You shouldn’t be calling me. You should call Kylie. See how she’s doing.” You interrupted. “And Bucky should worry about his students. About marking and whatever. And I need to think about myself and my job.” You stood and paced around the small space of your apartment. “I’m sorry but… you said it yourself. It’s okay to be selfish, so I’m going to be selfish and think about my future because fucking old men isn’t going to get me anywhere.”

You hung up before he could respond. And then your heart sank. Why had you said that? It all had spilled from you so quickly. You cringed and your phone began to buzz again. It was Steve. You let out a shaky breath and dismissed the call. You set your phone to do not disturb’ and tossed it on your bed. Maybe your words were rash but it didn’t make them any less true.

💋

Monday. You walked into Adder Press with a pit in your stomach. You were jittery from more than your morning coffee. You gripped the strap of your bag tightly as you passed Stacey. Everything around you seemed distant, obscured by the haze that fell over you. You sat at your desk, numb, and began to set out your stuff as you always did. In a desperate attempt to make it all feel normal again.

As you waited for your computer to boot, you felt a subtly weight on the back of your chair. You looked up at Loki as he gripped the chair and smirked down at you. You blanched and your pen slipped from your hand. He bent to grab it before you could and as he rose, he dragged the lid against your leg. He held it out and you snatched it from him.

“Morning meeting in five,” He said as he stood before you. “Then I wanted to go over layout with you. A useful lesson if you ever hope to be anything more than a freelancer. You have to have a good eye… for detail.”

You gulped and nodded. “Yes, okay, yeah.” You set the pen down on your desk. “Five minutes.”

He winked and left you there to stew in your shame. You glanced around but no one else seemed to notice your tense interaction. They were all too concerned with their own schedules, their own presence at the meeting. Really, who cared much about the summer intern?

You were antsy as you walked into the conference room. You hid between Vanessa, a political pundit, and Jory, who covered local business stories. Loki sat near the head of the table as the marketing head went over the final prints of the Pride issue. You folded your hands before you but couldn’t concentrate. 

Your eyes wandered from the powerpoint and you found the editor-in-chief peering over at you. Another sinister grin sent a chill through you. You looked back to the screen and prayed for the day to go quickly. Your heart felt as if it would explode.

When you broke out, you dragged your feet and were the last out of the room. You lingered at your desk as you grabbed your notebook and pen. Loki’s office beckoned to you ominously. He stood in the doorway watching you; waiting for you. You neared him as his lips curled.

He shut the door and you jumped at the click. He brushed past you before he rounded his desk. He pulled a chair with him and placed it beside his. He waved you over. You took a breath and crossed to him. As you sat, he pinched your ass and you pressed your lips together to keep from yelping.

His hand settled on your thigh as his other moved his mouse. He opened a page from last month’s issue and kept his eyes on the screen as he kneaded your leg. “We’ll go over composition. How to draw the reader’s eye and using layout to enhance your words.”

You nodded stiffly and shakily opened your notebook. He kept his hand on your thigh as you place the book on his desk and uncapped your pen. He circled the title with his cursor, entirely unfazed by your discomfort. His fingers slipped closer to your pelvis.

“Titles are easy but you’ll want to position them according to article type as well. Is it an editorial? Review? Reflective?” He continued. “Now, most editors would leave this to marketing and such but… I try to be hands on with every aspect of my business. My seal is on every page, ever word, that goes out.”

You scribbled down a jumble of words as his hand slid between your thighs and he squeezed. You flinched and he let out a soft chuckle under his breath. You kept your wide eyes on the monitor and he carried on his lesson. His hand never quite reaching its target. He was teasing you. Asserting the new power he held over you.

When he finished his spiel, he drew away and turned his chair to face you. His legs were far apart and you tried not to look at the obvious bulge in his pants. You kept your head down as you slipped your notebook down onto your lap. 

“I’ve got an important lunch date tomorrow,” He said. “I should like you to accompany me, darling.”

You peeked up at him. “Okay.”

“Sceptre Press is looking to expand its mediums. The director of Celestial has agreed to discuss a partnership.” He said coolly.

“Oh?” You breathed. “They… do podcasts?”

“Mostly,” He confirmed. “But, my dear, do wear something nice. A skirt.”

You crossed your legs. Your straight-cut pants felt thin enough. “Alright.”

“No panties.” He licked his lips. “Our little secret… well, another one, yeah?”

“Okay.” You said. You bit down and your pen rolled out of your grasp once more. 

His eyes followed the pen and flicked back to you. “Well, go on,” He mused. “Very… clumsy today.”

You bent to retrieve your pen and he caught the back of your head. He held you there and rolled his chair closer so that his lap was only inches from your face. He snickered as you tried to pull away but quickly gave up. His other hand stretched over his crotch and he grasped his erection through the thin fabric of his trousers.

“I could make you do it right now,” He slithered. “Hmm?”

“Yes,” You uttered. 

“I’m tempted,” He rubbed himself and shifted his hand as he pushed you closer. “Kiss it.” You closed your eyes and kissed his bulge. He shivered and let you go. You sat up, dizzy, and he grinned at you. “Not yet.” He preened. “But I do have to take care of this…” He ran his hand across his lap again. “So if you would excuse me. I am certain you have work to catch up on.”

You stood and back away slowly. “Yes, sir.” You turned as you rounded the desk.

“Sir? I like that,” He called from behind you as you neared the door. “Oh, darling, one more thing.”

You spun back to him and shielded your chest with your notebook. “Yes?”

“I’ll need some inspiration so before you sit down, go to the lav and take a nice photo for me.” He made a show of unzipping his pants behind his desk. “I bet you’re wearing a sweet little white bra, aren’t you? Maybe a precious pink number?”

Your throat tightened as you stared back at him. “Okay.” You forced out. “Is that all?”

“For now,” He shooed you away with a wave of his fingers. “As you will.”

💋

You had few skirts to choose from. You settled on a lavender one that ended just above your knees. With it, you wore a blouse with a Peter Pan collar and a grey blazer with three-quarter length sleeves. It wasn’t as enticing as any other outfit you owned; which was not at all. Perhaps that would work in your favour.

When you arrived at the bistro, Loki waved you ahead of him as you followed the hostess to your booth. You slid across the bench first and he was close behind. He took out his phone and checked it before he set it face down on the table. He asked for water and nothing else.

Your leg shook under the table nervously. He grabbed your thigh to still you. The waitress returned and he thanked her, his hand still on your leg. When she departed, his fingers slowly gathered your skirt. You reached to pull it back and he tssked.

“Our associate has informed me she’s running late.” He grinned. “About twenty minutes or so.” You squirmed as his hand slipped beneath your hem. “I think we can fill our time accordingly.”

“L--Mr. Laufeyson,” You gasped. “Someone might see.”

“They’d have to be watching us very closely,” He leaned against you as his fingers crawled along the top of your thigh. “Now,” He shoved his hand between your legs roughly. “Let’s have some fun, darling.”

You parted your legs reluctantly and he tickled along your cunt. You grabbed the edge of the table and your eyes searched frantically. The other diners were occupied with their own meals, their own company. You felt as invisible as you had back at the office. He rubbed you slowly. He lifted his glass with his other hand as he continued.

“After our meeting, I think we’ll head back to the office and call a conference. We’ll need ideas for prospective podcasts,” He swirled his fingertips and you let out a long breath between your teeth. “Of course, if this all goes to plan.”

You whimpered as you felt yourself getting wet. His fingers glided easily along your folds as he spread your arousal. You planted your elbow on the table and held your chin as you bit your lip. Mortified, you tried to hide your face.

“Uh uh,” He grabbed your wrist and shoved it down as his fingers dipped inside you. “Look at me.”

You leaned back against the booth as you looked over at him. He smirked as he moved his fingers steadily in and out of you. He pressed his palm to your clit and the sensation made your legs shake again.

“Is this what you like? Sneaking around?” He taunted. “Is this what he does, hmm? Or maybe he bends you over his desk?”

“Mr. Lauf--” You swallowed down a moan and clapped your hand over your mouth.

“I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it,” He sped up and your thighs squeezed his hand. “Are you going to cum? Here in front of everyone? In the middle of this restaurant?”

Your eyes rounded and you grabbed his shoulder pleadingly. You couldn’t speak, afraid you would cry out instead.

“You like being a naughty little girl, don’t you?” He curled his fingers and you heard a subtle squelch as your walls twitched around him. 

You bared your teeth and latched onto his arm. You rocked your hips without thinking as you came. You let out a shuddery breath and he slid his fingers out of your cunt, sure to drag them along your folds. He untangled his arm from your grasp and you fell back against the seat and pushed down your skirt.

He raised his hand and ran his wet fingers over your lips. He pressed against your mouth until you opened it. He stared into your eyes as he made you suck your own cum off his knuckles. He withdrew them and used a napkin to wipe away your saliva.

“It is a pity, however, that this lunch should set you behind, darling,” He crossed his legs and drank from his water again. “You will have to stay late tonight… to catch up.”

“Yes, sir,” You ceded.

He smirked and looked around. A moment of silence before he perked up and stood. He buttoned his jacket so it hid his bulge and greeted the tall woman who approached you. He shook her hand with the same one he’d just had between your legs. You stood in kind. Your legs felt weak.

“Valerie,” He purred. “Thank you for fitting us in today.”

“Us?” She looked between you. “And sorry about the delay. Traffic was… traffic.”

“My intern,” He introduced you by name, “She’s shadowing me for the day. To get an idea of the business and all its little quirks.”

You shook her hand and you sat down as she did the same. The server was quick to appear and offer you menus. You eagerly took yours, hoping to hide behind it for the rest of the meal. Especially as that familiar and irresistible tingle nestled in your core.

[mikeyhatesit113]

forever and never: Chapter 12

My Toyota Matrix speeds down the highway, leaving the New York City skyline behind us in the rear view mirror. Janie sits in the passenger seat, admiring the engagement ring I had given to her just hours before in Times Square.

Ahead of us, the sun sinks slowly toward the horizon. Everything about that day had been perfect, and it was sending us off with a beautiful sunset. I felt proud as Janie smiled genuinely at her ring, knowing in my heart that I had treated her like a true princess that day.

“It’s beautiful,” she says. “I love you.”

I look over at her with a smile as wide as the Brooklyn Bridge itself.

“I love you too,” I say, pride swelling in my chest.

“Forever and ever,” she says.

“Plus a day,” I whisper.

2 Years Later

Janie and I step onto our front porch step, anticipation building in my chest. I had not been home in more than 3 weeks, and I had no idea what awaited me on the other side of the front door.

I had spent sleepless nights at my grandmother’s house, mental images torturing me during the night. Wicked animations produced by an imagination hell-bent on punishing me. Images that took place in the very dwelling I was about to re-enter for the first time in over 21 days.

Janie opens the door, and I take in the scene before me.

The smell hit me first. The scent was unfamiliar, as if something else had inhabited the place since my abrupt departure.

Stale cologne?

What was more, the furniture had been rearranged. The kitchen looked different, decorated with additional chairs and flat surfaced stands.

It was at that moment when I noticed that Janie was studying me, awaiting my reaction to the many changes to the place I had previously called home.

This, however, did not look like home. This was a foreign place, accented by a foreign occupant who was hiding in plain sight.

But what, or who, I could not put my finger on.

I forced a smile, hugging Janie. Though I did not recognize this environment, another part of me desperately wanted to call it home again.

Janie gave me a tour, which proved to be an orientation into her new world. A universe she had constructed in my absence, but a galaxy I was almost certain that she did not build alone.

“Wow,” I mumbled as we trudged up the stairs to the bedrooms. Brock’s room looked almost untouched, but James’ room yielded a big difference.

There was now a ball python resting in a tank beside his TV.

“Who’s snake?” I asked.

“Steppenwolf’s,” Janie said anxiously. “He brought it as a gift for the boys,” she quickly explained.

“He stayed here?” I asked, a familiar irritation arising in my chest, despite my best efforts.

“Only when the boys wanted him to, for a sleepover,” she replied.

“Oh,” I said. I immediately felt trapped again, like I was going against everything I had tried to stand for. I felt outraged. I felt like I had been violated.

I felt sick.

“And uh, where did he sleep?” I asked.

“Downstairs on the couch,” she said. “He didn’t stay here often.”

“And where did you sleep when you went to his house?” I asked.

“On his couch or in a spare room,” she replied as a matter-of-factly.

I wanted to believe her. I needed to believe her. It was the only way this could work.

“Ok...” I spoke, trying to shove her truth down my throat.

I hoped to God that he didn’t see the inside of our bedroom, which in fact, had also been transformed during my absence.

My brand new queen-size bed was long gone, currently locked up in a dark storage unit. In its place was a twin bed with a frame that creaked, and a mattress with springs that groaned. Additionally, the right side of our room was lit up with a red light that glowed from another large reptile tank which housed a lizard.

That night, I slept warily beside her in that crimson-lit room. I laid awake, wondering what I didn’t know. Wondering what she wasn’t telling me. Wondering if I was making the right decision.

I certainly didn’t have the support from my friends and family, who were incredulous that I returned to her embrace.

“I just want your support and friendship right now,” I texted my friend one day. “You got it,” he wrote back.

His response was not what I was looking for, but did he have the right words to make me feel like I was doing the right thing?

No one did, but in the effort of leaving no stone unturned, everyone’s opinion could not matter.

This was my journey, and no one else’s footsteps or words could complete the distance for me. I had to do it myself, whether it was 3 days, 3 weeks, or forever and ever, just like we had always promised eachother.

Logistically, the tricky task was moving the right amount of stuff back home to Janie and I’s place. I was not ready to empty my room at my Grandmother’s house, nor did I touch my storage unit.

They had been safe zones, and as happy as I was to be back home, I was still rather uncomfortable. I wanted to take it slow, if there was a such thing for a married couple.

Of course, there were other things returned. Janie drove with me to my grandmother’s house one Sunday afternoon to grab one of the things she had missed the most; her Lancer.

In the Lancer’s absence, her father had bought her a $300 mid-1990’s Oldsmobile that had an oil leak problem. It did not have a 6-disc CD player, but it did have a cassette player with cracked vinyl seats.

Call it vintage appeal, if you will. A time machine back to the 1990’s on 4 wheels.

I remember handing Janie the car key to the Lancer and her excitedly hopping in the driver seat. “I love this car,” she said, taking in the interior all over again as if it were the first time ever.

When the boys came home from their father’s house that evening, it was the reunion I was looking forward to most. I hugged them both, telling them both how much I had missed them. As far as I was concerned, I was back for good. And they’d never feel that pain again.

I did have unfinished business, however. I had seen enough photos of the boys sporting fedora hats, indicating that Steppenwolf had bought them their very own wacky hats. I did not appreciate these photos, so one afternoon, I found his Facebook.

I simply sent him this:

:)

It wasn’t long before he answered me.

“Hello?” he responded.

I couldn’t resist myself.

“I want to thank you for trying to take care of a family that wasn’t yours, and I hope you kept the receipt from whatever costume shop you bought those ridiculous hats from.”

“That purple sports car will never fill the void.”

“How does it feel to be an empty old man?”

“What’s wrong, Steppenwolf? Answer me.”

Steppenwolf did not respond, and I was blocked shortly thereafter.

Janie, however, was not happy that I had attacked Steppenwolf. When I told her about what I had sent him, she told me that she already knew I had done so, and that she just wanted me to leave it alone.

Nothing had happened between them. He had been just a friend.

Upon our reunion, Janie and I agreed to participate in marriage counseling. One October evening, our pastor showed up to our home and ate a nice dinner with us. Afterwards, with the cool, Autumn air flowing through the screen door near the kitchen table, Janie and I sat across from each other as our pastor looked on from the side.

We had each written down our concerns on a piece of paper, and it didn’t take long before the dialogue spun out of control.

In my endeavor to overlook so much and ignore so many little details, I could not bring myself to believe that she hadn’t lied to me. That she hadn’t kissed one of my best friends.

That she hadn’t betrayed me.

That I wasn’t her fool.

I guess in the end, even though I felt worthless, I owed myself some semblance of the truth.

I felt the conversation turn against me, and our pastor was soon siding with Janie about my paranoia. He hadn’t lived the nights I had, and he hadn’t seen the dark shadows drift in and out of our lives for the past 2 years.

Specters of betrayal. Phantoms that she denied ever existed.

Ghosts and goblins that haunted the life I thought we’d build.

Secrets that wouldn’t stay dead. Rotting corpses that wouldn’t stay buried.

“Michael,” our pastor chuckled. “You have these...construction crews...in your head,” he spoke. “And they build things out of these thoughts you have,” he said, laughing softly. Janie sat beside him, smirking at me.

I’ll never forget the smug look on her face as she stared at me, enjoying the fact that another human being had taken her at her word.

Nothing happened. He’s angry. He’s paranoid.

I couldn’t take it. I had tried to suppress it, bury it, destroy it, even...but the rage had returned. I stood up abruptly from my chair, anger coursing through my veins.

So many friends and family had contributed to my mental health over the past weeks, and this is how I repaid them? This is how I rewarded myself?

Being mocked by my pastor and my wife during marriage counseling?

“You sit there,” I bellowed, pointing a finger at her. “Laughing at me, looking down on me from your pedestal? Trust me, hunny, I’m looking down on you. I have nothing for you.”

I went to walk away, but my pastor called me back to the table.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Ekim,” he said. “Where are you going? Get back to this table.”

I returned to the table slowly, staring at Janie. Her smirk was gone, replaced by a poisonous look of revulsion. I echoed her emotion.

We truly were toxic.

Of course, that counseling session was the start of the downward slope. More odd occurrences around the house sparked more questions and suspicions.

Like the Earl Grey Teabags on the counter, and the Syracuse hoodie I found in the wash basket one morning while I was folding clothes.

Janie was not a tea drinker, nor was she a Syracuse fan. Janie wasn’t home at that time, so I texted her a picture of the hoodie with the simple question, “What’s this?”

“Uh, a Syracuse hoodie,” she responded.

“I get that. Why do you have a Syracuse hoodie?” I texted.

“My family lived in Syracuse for a little bit when I was a little girl,” she texted back.

This was a blatant lie. Her family had never lived in Syracuse, much less another county.

Janie and I hobbled on, but our legs were giving out. The fighting soon made a vengeful comeback, and our tempers boiled over one rainy day.

I struggled with the lies. I struggled with the stories. I struggled with the person I had become. I hated him. I hated what I saw in the mirror. I hated his guts.

I hated what I did to Jay, now that I was at some capacity to understand it years later.

My mood became tense, and the suspicions only increased.

In the kitchen one day, we locked horns. Janie was making dinner when an argument started. It would be futile to try to tell you exactly regarding what, as I cannot remember due to the violent maelstrom we were trapped in. The reasons for conflict and discord were abundant and vicious. Pick one.

After a venomous word exchange, Janie slammed the casserole dish down on the stove top, cracking it. I turned away and marched out the front door into the pouring rain. I unlocked my car, sobbing as I flung open the door and sat in the driver seat.

I had not noticed Janie following me, and she came into my view as I shoved my key into the ignition.

“Where are you going?” she pleaded.

I didn’t plan to say it, and to be honest, I didn’t even know I felt it like I did.

But it came from the heart.

“I fucking hate my life,” I cried, looking her in the eyes. She stared back at me pitifully, the cold rain drops falling on both of us as we took each other in.

Who were we? What had we become?

How had our house of cards collapsed like this? We thought we were the exception.

We hobbled on.

One sunny Saturday morning before Halloween, we were ready to go to a pumpkin patch. However, before walking out the door, I noticed that James was apprehensive.

Everyone else had walked out to the car, and I seized the moment to address James alone.

“James, what’s wrong?” I asked, walking up to him and kneeling down.

“I’m afraid you’re going to leave again,” he said, looking at the ground.

I was taken aback, but I was encouraged all the same.

“James, I love you, your brother, and your mommy very much,” I said. “I love you, and I’m not going to leave you,” I assured him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“I promise, I’m here for good.”

After Halloween, we saw another November 1st arrive. Our anniversary, a day we hailed for years as the day we found eachother.

A day, 5 years earlier, that changed both of our lives forever.

A day I had progressively become more and more ashamed of.

I gave her the gift I had gotten her, a flashy trinket with the engraving, “Forever and ever”.

As soon as she opened it, I could tell she was expecting more. Another disappointing gift on another day we had no reason to celebrate.

Little did I know, that November 1st would be our last.

This is where I’m going to ask you to dig in your memory bank and pull out a date. A date I asked you to remember many chapters ago.

A date with more significance and karma than you could guess.

November 4th.

Welcome to the End.

“Passion or coincidence, Once prompted you to say, "Pride will tear us both apart". Well, now pride's gone out the window, Cross the rooftops, Run away... Left me in the vacuum of my heart.

What is happening to me? Crazy, some'd say. Where is my friend when I need you most? Gone away.”

Duran Duran “Ordinary World”

NOTE: Though this is my side of the story, including my own personal recollections and opinions, the reader should not consider this note anything other than a work of literature. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

[headfullofstories]

Truly Monstrous Luck - part 3

Eventually Yvonne comes and finds me as I’m sitting in a greenhouse looking at flowers. I’ve managed to get a small swarm of butterflies perched on my arms, and I hold them steady as I look at a bed full of lilies and hydrangeas.

“You look like a dryad right now.” Yvonne states as she stands in the doorway watching me. I turn to look at her and stir a few butterflies that were resting in my hair. “Usually they don’t really gravitate towards the undead this much, but they seem to really like you.”

I smile at her, then go back to studying the flowers, counting the petals on the clusters of hydrangea blooms. “Do we need to leave?” I ask her after a moment, “I don’t want to disrupt all of them.”

“I think if you stay here any longer they’ll follow you out of here.” She chuckles, and I smile a little wider at that. “But seriously, we need to get you settled for as long as you’re going to be here.”

I nod solemnly, mutter a quick apology to the butterflies gathered on my person, then shake my arms gently to get them all off as I stand up. I brush a quick hand through my hair and jostle my backpack as well, trying to be as gentle as possible as I make sure I’m not going to be taking any hitchhikers with me when I leave. I give one last twirl before running over to the door where Yvonne’s waiting. I give her a thumbs up as I run up to her, and she begins leading us back down through the winding halls of the castle.

“How long were you down here?” She inquires after a minute or so of walking in silence.

“A couple hours.” I reply. “I liked how colorful everything was. I used to keep succulents back when I lived with my parents, but when I ran away I couldn’t take them with… and I haven’t had the time or money to buy any new ones since we came here.”

She gives a sympathetic nod, and lets out a deep sigh. “When did you leave, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“When I was 16.” I answer with no hesitation.

“Fuck, you’ve really had a rough go of it.” She mutters, running a hand over her hair, which is pulled into a tight dutch braid. “I can’t even imagine going off on my own that young.”

“I wasn’t completely alone,” I clarify. “My brother and I came here together. He’s 2 years older than me.”

“Oh yeah, that’s whose house you were going to this morning, right?”

“Yep.”

“Are you gonna head over there tomorrow?”

“Probably, but I think I’m gonna stay here. It’s nice.”

Her expression shifts from one of mild worry to one of happiness. “That’s good. Not… that I don’t think you should be with your family, but there are a lot of bad people in New York, and it can be extra dangerous for fledgling vampires. Lots of people who want kids like you dead for good.”

Well, guess I can’t blame them. “That’s good to know.” I mutter. “I’ll keep that in mind for tomorrow.”

She nods, then asks, “did you meet anyone on your way to the greenhouse?”

“Yeah, I accidentally bumped into someone up by the common room. I think he said his name is Adrian.”

“Adrian’s a pretty good kid.” She remarks. “He doesn’t know how to keep his thoughts to himself, though. He off-puts a lot of new people, gets in a lot of trouble.”

“He seemed mean.” I grumble, “He asked if I got turned because I was selling my blood to rogue vampires. He apologized, though, and he said he understood if I never want to talk to him again. I said I'll think about it.”

"Give him another chance." She suggests. "If he does it again you can avoid him for the rest of time, but more often than not his first impressions are a bad representation of who he is."

I give her a thumbs up, and we fall into silence. I start fidgeting with my backpack straps and re-examining all of the candelabras to avoid getting trapped by my own thoughts.

After ten or so minutes of walking down somewhat familiar corridors, we make a turn off of the route I took getting to the greenhouse. The doors here are a lot more uniformly spaced out, some with little name plates on the doors, most with numbers. Apartments?

We walk about halfway down the hallway before Yvonne stops in front of a door with a number and an empty name plate.

“This room is empty right now.” She says as she turns to face me. “You can stay here as long as you want, and… here’s… your… key!” She digs around her pockets for a moment as she speaks, grabbing out a small key and dropping it into my hands. I give her a little bow and unlock the door, which swings inward as soon as I turn the doorknob. The room has a kitchenette on one side and a bed on the other side, with a door to what I assume is a bathroom right in the entryway. Overall, it gives me hotel room vibes, from the few times I’ve stayed in hotels since Justin and I moved here.

“This is so much nicer than my old apartment.” I mutter under my breath.

“There’s a bag with extra sheets under the bed, there’s a few outlets around the room…” she points around the space, looking like she’s probably going through a mental checklist of room features, “and there’s a landline and a directory to everyone’s phone numbers, so call if you need anything. I’m pretty sure Arthur wants to talk to you tomorrow, too.”

I give her another small bow and mutter a quick ‘thank you,’ and she closes the door behind her. Once she’s gone, I immediately walk over to the bed, dropping my backpack on the ground next to it and falling face-first onto the pristine white sheets. Fuck, this is really soft. I almost forgot what high quality mattresses felt to lay on. I pull out my phone to check the time and see if I have any texts from Justin. I glance over my home screen then open the messages app, before realizing I didn’t actually read the time. I grumble, going back to the homescreen, not remembering that I could’ve pulled down the drop-down menu. But finally, I get the time - 7:35PM. Fuck, I’m way too tired for how early it is. Even after I passed out for 2 hours earlier, I’m exhausted. I most fall asleep right then and there, but I catch myself after I remember to plug my phone in and actually check to see if I have any texts. After opening the messaging app for the second time, I can see that I have 1 text from Justin - one of his daily check-ins. It reads, “Hey, got a call from your job. You got fired?”

I take a few deep breaths in before responding. “Yeah, got evicted this morning too. Found a place to stay, good to come visit tomorrow?”

It’s a few minutes before I get a response. “Sure you’re safe? Yeah, you can come over. No work tomorrow, free all day.”

I smile at the familiarity of talking to him. “Yeah, sure I’m safe. See you tomorrow.”

I turn off my phone, digging my charger out of my bag and looking around for an outlet, which only takes about ten seconds. I plug it in and set it on the counter in the kitchenette, then walk back over to the bed and change into my other set of clothes. I set the dirty clothes in a corner - I’ll ask if there’s anywhere to do laundry tomorrow. I look around for a moment, trying to determine whether or not I forgot anything, and when I’m largely confident I haven’t forgotten anything, I flop into bed and fall asleep.

Usually I don’t dream - I haven’t had a memorable dream in years - but I guess dying leaves you having nightmares. All night my mind is plagued with images of the man that bit me, eyes red and full of malice as he stares into my soul, wicked smile plastered across his face, fangs elongated. He grabs my throat, nails digging into me skin, and as he goes to bite me he whispers in my ear that I deserved this, that this is my punishment for being a burden on everyone around me, for wishing I was dead when I was younger, for being selfish and lazy and never finishing school; then he plunges his fangs into my neck and it feels like I’ve been stabbed, a million times more painful than the actual thing, and it feels like my blood is boiling in my veins.

I bolt up in bed, and it feels like my skin is on fire. My neck is burning where the bite mark is, and I’m covered in sweat. It’s completely dark in the room, no windows to indicate what time of day it is, but it doesn’t inhibit my vision at all. I get up and stumble towards the counter where my phone is plugged in to check the time - 2:21AM. I put my phone in my pocket, then dig my journal out of my backpack and begin to organize my thoughts on the past 24 hours.

[numba99]

The Arrangement  Part 2

Part 1

Summary: You’re an aspiring model in NYC who is offered an opportunity of a lifetime - an arranged relationship with a famous Ranger. Things start out rough and are further complicated by the fact you’re already in a relationship. Will you be able to figure things out or will it all end in disaster? Word count: 2,854

Warnings: none

You swung the door open to your apartment, fear sparking in you for a second as you saw a figure sitting on your couch. However, fear melted to relief as you realized it was just your boyfriend. You should be used to it by now, Eric had a key to your place (and you to his) so he was always popping by unannounced, but it still startled you every time you walked in on him.

“Hey baby,” Eric greeted you.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” you sighed, shutting the door behind you.

“Rough workday?” he guessed.

“You could say that,” you sighed, slumping down on the couch next to him.

“What could be so rough about modeling? The camera flash hurt your eyes?” Eric teased. You rolled your eyes. It wasn’t the first time Eric made a jab about your job. In fact, it was the biggest point of contention in your relationship. Eric didn’t think modeling was a real career. He always said that in a couple years you’ll be too old for it and that only skill I’ll have to show for it in the “real job market” is the ability to smile in front of a camera.

Of course, that irritated you to no end. He didn’t know the first thing about what it takes to model, and he didn’t care enough to learn about it even if it was what you loved. Normally you would call him out on it, but you were not in the mood for a fight today.

“No, I just had to deal with someone who was a total jerk,” you told him. You scowled, thinking about the interaction all over again.

“I’m sorry baby, you don’t deserve that,” Eric said wrapping his arm around you, “How about I order us some pizza to make up for it?”

“You read my mind,” you smiled, giving him a peck on the lips.

A little while later you were on cuddled on the couch with him, pajamas on and pizza in hand. You had almost forgot about your shitty day. You were mindlessly flipping through your phone with your free hand, when suddenly Eric started hitting your shoulder.

“Babe, is- is that you?” Eric asked, flipping his phone to you. You looked up, shocked to find images of yourself on the screen.

It looked like a little blurb from a sports blog, one that reported on players private lives. There were a few pictures of you out with Mika, which a caption about a mystery woman that seemed really into him.

You nearly laughed out loud at the caption. The picture did make it seem like you were having a good time, though. Maybe you should take up acting, you thought sarcastically.

There were a few blurry ones through the window of the cafe of both of smiling (though you thought you may having calling him an asshole in that moment), and then a couple of you leaving and him following after. You had been in such a huff, you hadn’t even notice people taking pictures of you.

“Uh… yeah,” you admitted, not knowing what else to say. You knew he was going to find out eventually, but you didn’t think it was going to be this soon.

“You want to tell me what’s going on there?” he asked, irritation clear in his voice.

“I, um, I have an opportunity to work on a project with him. I have to do some private interviews with him, he wants to pick the model to work with. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you babe, you know how it is with the famous people, they try to keep everything so secretive. I had to sign papers and everything. I don’t even know exactly what I’m interviewing for,” you lied. You were proud of yourself so making it up so quickly. But also felt bad that you were lying so easily.

“You can’t even tell your boyfriend you’re going to be working with one of the biggest sports stars in New York?” Eric questioned. You could sense his jealous side was coming out.

“It’s a bunch of crazy paperwork,” you tried to explain, “It’s like when if you worked on a movie you wouldn’t be allowed to talk about anything you filmed until it’s released. Believe me, I wish I could talk about it. Truth be told, he’s the asshole I had to deal with today, but I signed something that said I’m not allowed to talk badly about him.”

Eric scoffed. “So you he can be a total douche to you and then you can’t even talk about it or you’ll get sued? What a piece of shit.”

“Seriously,” you agreed, glad he was focusing on that, rather than the fact you hadn’t told him about it, “Must have the world’s most fragile ego.” You rolled your eyes just thinking of him.

“Do you have to see him again?” Eric asked.

“Probably,” you replied cautiously, “I think there are a few rounds to the interview.” It wasn’t a total lie.

“Why do you even want to work with a guy who’s such an asshole?”

“I don’t want to, but it would be good for my career. He’s got lots of connections, anything with him could give me great exposure. It could launch my career,” you told him, repeating what Alice told you. The words felt bitter in your mouth - you hated having to say Mika would be an important part of your career - however you knew it would be the easiest thing for Eric to understand.

“Yeah I guess so,” he sighed, still seeming a bit uncertain.

“Don’t worry about it babe, I want nothing to do with him. I’ve only got eyes for you,” you assured. You cupped his face, pulling him in for a kiss.

Eric smiled as you pulled away. “Well if he’s a jerk to you again, I could beat him up for you.”

You giggled, “I may just have to take you up on that.”

A few days later you were milling around your apartment trying to clean things up when there was a knock at your door. You thought it was Eric stopping by on his lunch hour, but you were met by a stranger.

“Uh hi,” you said, unable to hide the confusion in your voice. You raised your eye brows, noticing the man had a large bouquet of peonies in his hand.

“Are you y/n?” he asked, reading from the card attached to the flowers.

“That’s me.”

“These are for you,” he stated, handing you the flowers and walking off before you could ask who sent them. You shut the door, breathing in the sweet, fresh scent of the blush colored flowers - which happened to be your favorite.

You set them down on your table, pulling the little card out of the envelope attached to the bouquet by white ribbon. In big, loopy cursive read, “Sorry for being an asshole - Mika.”

You let out a laugh, tossing the card down on the table. Did he really thing a few flowers would make up for how he acted? You thought about throwing the flowers away for a second, but decided it would be a shame to waste such a beautiful bouquet. After all, the flowers weren’t the ones who were assholes.

A few moments later your phone rang and you groaned when you realized it was Alice. To your dismay, she told you you had another “date” with Mika today. Your date would consist of an hour walking around Central Park. Lovely. Maybe you could throw yourself in front of a hot dog cart and put yourself out of your misery, you thought to yourself.  

Alice told to you to dress incognito, so you opted for jeans, a sweatshirt, and a large pair of sunglasses. At least maybe you had a chance of not being noticed today.

A text from Fred informed you that it was time to go. You trudged down the stairs, mentally preparing yourself for an annoying hour. When you slid into the back seat of the Escalade you gasped, not expecting another person to be there.

It was none other than Mika himself. Great.

“Hi,” he said with a soft smile. The set of balls on this one, you thought.

“So you always send girls flowers when you’re a dick or?” you questioned him. You could of sworn you heard Fred let out a small snicker as he drove.

“Believe it or not, I’m usually not an asshole,” Mika replied.

“Ha!” you scoffed. “Could have fooled me.”

“You’re right,” he nodded, “I’ve given you no reason to think anything else of me, and for that I am really sorry.”

“Why’d you do it then?” you asked, not letting him get off that easy.

“Well, this isn’t my first time doing something like this,” Mika began, “Usually the girls I’m arranged with are just using me for fame, going after my money, trying to sleep with me, or a combination of all three. I’m constantly being used and I hate it. I thought if I put a wall up right away I could avoid it, but when you said what you did, I realized you weren’t using me like everyone else. And that I was being nasty to you for no reason.”

You nodded, understanding why he acted how he did. You hated doing this once, you couldn’t imagine having to do it multiple times. Especially if you were constantly dealing with people who were just trying to get something from you.

“It’s alright, I forgive you,” you told him, “This is a shitty thing to always have to be doing.”

“You could say that again,” he sighed, pulling the grey beanie on his head further down to cover his dark hair.

“Here,” Fred announced. Mika put on a dark pair of sunglasses before pushing open the car door. He held it for you, allowing you to slide out.

“See ya in an hour Fred,” you said, before shutting the door behind you. The two of you walked towards the entrance of the park, making sure not to stand too close together, as you were still in the no touching phase.

“So why did you agree to do this, if you don’t mind me asking. You don’t seem like the kind of girl who does things she doesn’t want to,” Mika said, his hands resting comfortably in his pockets as he walked.

“I wasn’t going to. I told my agent no initially,” you explained, “No offense, but I don’t like the whole idea of using a guy to get myself recognition. If I am successful. I want it to be from my own hard work and nothing else.”

“I completely respect that,” Mika nodded.

“Unfortunately, my agent had different ideas. She told me I could say no, but that people who say no to her don’t last long in the agency. So basically it was do something I don’t wanna do, or lose my job altogether,” you told him.

“I’m sorry, that’s really shitty,” Mika sympathized.

“Well at least I’m not dealing with a total asshole anymore,” you teased, “I honestly don’t know how I would have made it through this if you were like that every time we met.”

“Honestly I don’t think I would either. I don’t like feeling mean like that,” Mika replied, “I never asked, did you like the flowers?”

“Loved them,” you replied, “Peonies are my favorite. My boyfriend always insists on getting roses, which I have to pretend to be excited about… That sounds pretty spoiled, doesn’t it?”

Mika chuckled and shook his head. “You’re a woman who knows what she wants, nothing wrong with that.” You smiled, glad he understand you weren’t an ungrateful brat.

The two of you walked in silence for a little bit before Mika spoke again. “How’d you get into modeling?”

“Well, it started when I was young. I was obsessed with America’s Next Top Model. I would watch it religiously and try to practice along with them. I would even steal my moms heels and practice my runway walk up and down the halls of our house,” you laughed, recalling how you tripped and clunked around in the shoes that were far to big for you.

Mika joined in your laughter, “I would have liked to see that.”

“Oh no you wouldn’t, I was an absolute mess,” you told him, before going on, “As I got older, I started getting more serious about it. Going out on nights and weekends to get jobs. I fell in love with it, I always thought photography was an art form and with modeling I got to be a part of that art… Maybe that’s kind of silly.” You blushed despite yourself. You never really talked about modeling with anyone, because no one ever really seemed to care.

“No, not at all, you’re completely right,” Mika agreed, “You’re an artist.”

“Well I wouldn’t go that far,” you replied.

“I’m serious,” Mika replied, “People don’t realize how hard it is. Not just anyone can get in front of a camera and produce the right emotions for a great picture. It’s really beautiful, actually.”

“I’m glad someone thinks so,” you mumbled, wishing Eric thought as highly of modeling as Mika did.

“Do the people in your life not support it?” Mika asked.

“You could say that again,” you huffed, “Eric - my boyfriend - he thinks it’s stupid and a waste of time. He always says it’s a dead end job and I’ll eventually have to stop because of my age and then I’ll have nothing to show for the years I spent trying to live out a fantasy - his words not mine.”

“That’s terrible,” Mika scowled.

You shrugged. “It’s whatever. He’s great with everything else, I just wish he cared about what means so much to me, or could at least pretend to care.”

“It’s unfortunate he doesn’t, he’s missing out,” Mika stated. You nodded and the two of you fell into silence again as you walked. You were supposed to look happy, for any potential pictures being taken, but thinking about Eric’s lack of support for your choices always put you in a mood.

As you walked, you approached a stand selling snacks and the smell of fresh popcorn filled the air. You suddenly realized you were hungry.

“That smells great, doesn’t it?” you asked, changing the subject.

“It does, I think we should see if it tastes as good as it smell,” Mika replied, stopping to get online.

“Should we get one to share, or one for each of us?” you asked. Snacks weren’t discussed on the phone call briefing.

“They’d probably say one for each of us, which is why I’m only getting us one to share,” Mika smirked.

“Oh what a rebel,” you teased, “I may have to tell on you.”

“Won’t have to,” Mika replied, stepping forward as the line moved, “They’ve got people watching us.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup,” Mika replied. He paused turning to the vendor to ask for a large popcorn before continuing, “Don’t bother trying to figure out who it is. They’ll look like anyone else, but they’re hired by my management to make sure we are following the rules.”

Despite saying not to bother, you looked around at the people in the area - there were people walking dogs, children playing, couples walking, and elderly man reading the paper. Suddenly the all seemed suspicious. “Creepy,” you shuttered.

Mika shrugged, taking the popcorn and handing the guy a twenty, telling him to keep the change. “You get used to it.”

You scooped up a handful of popcorn, savoring the warm buttery flavor. “You know, usually I’d offer to pay for half - equality and shit - but considering one of us makes millions, I think it’s okay to let you take the hit for the popcorn,” you joked.

“Just when I was believing you weren’t after me for my money,” Mika smirked, tossing some popcorn into his mouth. You rolled your eyes and laughed, chucking some kernels in his direction.

For the rest of the time with Mika, you had to admit you actually had some fun. You were surprised you managed to walk around with one of the biggest sports player in New York and only be stopped once. The observant fan was nice, though she eyed you suspiciously. She didn’t ask for your name, and for that you were glad. You hoped you could remain Mika’s nameless fling for as long as possible, to keep your personal life as uncomplicated as possible.

When your date ended, you felt much different than you did the first time around. You never would have expected to enjoy spending an hour with Mika Zibanejad, yet here you were laughing in the backseat as Fred took the both of you back to your respective homes. As you said goodbye to Mika part of you, a small part that you chose to ignore, was looking forward to seeing him again.

[sophiet-x]

one call away || caphie

LOCATION:  New York City, USA & London, United Kingdom

TIME: Tuesday, February 28th, around 5 pm.

FEATURING: Camila Mendes @camilahq

NOTES: Sophie and Cami help each other out after long days. NSFW

Cami: had checked herself into a hotel after landing in New York. She was only here for less than 24 hours and she didn't really have anything planned until she had to be at the theater later tonight. The actress had made plans for a FaceTime date with Sophie, but before that took place she had decided to lay down for a nap. She had been in and out of sleep for the last couple of hours, texting other friends when she was awake. When her phone buzzed with a text from Sophie, the dark-haired Brazilian went to the bathroom to wash her face so she didn't look like she'd just woken up. Cami couldn't believe how quickly the girls had bonded, becoming instant best friends plus a little more almost overnight. She was excited to see the blonde's face, even if it was just through the screen of her phone because she had really missed it. Returning to the bed and sitting up amongst the pillows, Cami clicked the video button to call Sophie.

Sophie: With a pretty tuckered out Tuna after her long playdate with Jack's dog, Sophie was pretty ready to just lay down and do nothing. It'd been a pretty uneventful day, but having Jack over always required a lot of mental energy, plus she had to cook for them, so it was a lot for a very jet lagged Sophie who wasn't feeling like doing much. Flopping herself on the bed, Cami's face came up on her phone, so she swiped the call open and smiled when a head of black hair showed up on her screen "There she is, how're you doing, gorgeous?"

Cami: grinned at the sight of the gorgeous blonde on her tiny phone screen. “Hey beautiful,” she whispered with a smile. “I’m good. How’s my girl?” she asked, running a hand through her hair from her spot on the bed. The dark haired girl was eager to get down to business, but she also wanted to talk to her friend. She’d missed her fiercely. “How was the play date?” she asked, memorizing every inch of Sophie’s gorgeous face that was in front of her. There was something about the blonde that Cami really loved. They’d spent so much time together this month getting to know each other in more ways than one. And Cami was so thankful for that time. It had given them an incredibly special bond that she would never forget.

Sophie: Resting on her stomach and putting the weight on her elbows, Sophie held the phone right in front of her face and smiled. This had probably been the longest time since they hadn't seen each other, so even if she missed her, this was gonna do for now. "I'm doing good! Quite pooped, honestly, I think the dog energy, cooking and hanging out with Jack has left me a mix between exhausted and like, overly wound up, like I can't fall asleep" She said with a big smile, licking her lips "How's my girl? ow was your day? Excited for the show?"

Cami: listened intently to her friend as she talked about her day. “Hopefully you’ve still got some energy left in you,” Cami said with a smirk, biting her lip as the blonde licked her own lips. “Your girl is great. Took a little power nap and is now ready for the show tonight. But she’s got other things to focus on first,” the actress added. “I’m really excited for the show,” she answered with a grin. “More excited for the show we’re going to give each other,” she whispered in a low voice, nibbling on her bottom lip as she looked at her friend through the screen.

Sophie: chuckled, rolling her eyes and winking at her quickly "I've always got time and energy left for you, especially for this" she said with a soft smirk. Knowing she wasn't gonna be comfortable this way, Sophie pusheed herself back and found some pillows to throw herself on. She'd met up with Jack in the scruffiest of clothes, joggers and an old McFly t-shirt, but as soon as he left and she knew she'd have her phone call with Cami, she'd readied herself in a blush-colored lingerie set and a silk pink robe "Even got myself all dolled up for you, babe"

Cami: grinned at Sophie’s response, biting her lip as she noticed the lingerie set and silk pink robe. “I’m afraid I’m overdressed,” she whispered, setting the phone down to remove the t-shirt she’d worn on the plane. She’d packed a dress for tonight that she would change into after her call with Sophie and a shower. Once she removed her shirt, she decided to remove her leggings, leaving her in just her bra and underwear. Cami propped herself back up against the pillows, eyeing Sophie through the screen. “Much better.”

Sophie: The image on the screen was something to behold, and Sophie saw it and instantly remembered what it felt like to have it right in front of her eyes. Biting on her lower lip, she smiled. How could someone so pure look so damn dirty. "God, you look amazing" She whispered, running a hand through her hair and slowly sliding down her side "I wish I could be there to take that kit the clothes off of you myself, kiss you everywhere"

Cami: blushed at the blonde’s comment. “You look amazing too, sweetheart,” she whispered, running her own hand through her hair and down her side, following Sophie’s motion. “I wish you could too,” she said with a pout. “Guess all we can do is help ourselves,” she said, focusing on the screen as her hand slipped below her own underwear. “What do you want me to do, Soph?” she asked quietly.

Sophie: It didn't take long until Sophie's hand slid slowly behind the lace of her panties, she wasn't even playing with herself yet and the sight of Cami had gotten her a little bit hot and bothered "I guess we'll just have to do it ourselves, yeah" She pouted. When Camila asked her instructions, the Brit smirked "I want you to show me a little, can you?" She put her best seductive tone on. While Cami adjusted herself, Sophie worked to find a good place to put her phone on her nightstand so that she'd have both hands available and she could show Cami more of herself, even if she had to turn sideways to look at the screen "I want you to play with that beautiful pussy of yours, just feel yourself and tell me how you feel"

Cami: kept two pillows behind her to prop herself up, using the rest of them to hold her phone up. She positioned the phone so Sophie could get a better look at her, the dark haired girl knew that she herself was already hot and bothered and hoped Sophie was too. Cami obeyed Sophie’s directions, slipping one finger inside herself at first to get the process started. She let out a quiet moan, “Feels so good,” she whispered, “Feels hot and tight,” she let out, working her finger at an even pace inside of her. “You do the same, babe.”

Sophie: Laying on her back, Sophie started to circle her clitoris as she had her eyes fixed on Cami and the way her hand started to move, her other hand going over the lace on her breast, massaging it gently and occasionally pinching on her nippe. It was the little moan that she could almost hear right in front of her that had Sophie become a bit more needy and active with herself, pushing one finger inside "Ooh" She whispered with a quiet groan, back arching up a little "Mhm, Cami" She moaned her name out softly while she pumped her fingers, pushing out a deep breath as she slipped another one in "Mhm, this feels so good, baby, go faster"

Cami: At the sound of Sophie becoming so vocal, Cami slipped another finger inside herself, picking up the pace with her pumping. “Baby, you sound so good,” she whispered, arching her back as she heard Sophie moan her name. “Oh, Soph... Soph...” the dark haired girl moaned, bringing her free hand up to her breast, massaging it gently as she continued to pump her fingers inside herself, speeding up at Sophie’s commands. “I’m going faster, baby, how does it feel?” she asked, opening her eyes to glance at the blonde through the screen. She had to bite her lip as she watched the girl pleasure herself.

Sophie: She'd always enjoyed being vocal during sex, mainly because she liked getting told what she was doing right, but also because it encouraged the other person to do so as well, and boy did she get off it like a champion. "Oh God, Camila" She closed her eyes to focus on the sound of her voice, the growls coming from the back of her throat taking another shade darker while she moved her hand, the feeling was so good she could even ignore the pain that was starting to show up on her wrist due to the awkward placing of her hand, folding it in even more to get a deeper feel of herself "Baby right there, you're really hitting it, fuck yes" She whimpered, her eyes fluttering open "You like that? Put another finger up, move them around, feel yourself, baby girl"

Cami: It felt like the other girl was here in the room with her due to how loud she was being and Cami was truly enjoying it. She closed her eyes to imagine Sophie in her place, the thought of the blonde dipping her own fingers inside of her and getting her off excited her even more. “Sophie!” she yelped as the blonde moaned out her name again. “You’re doing so good, baby, so so good,” she responded with a whimper of her own. “I love it, I love it,” she repeated with another whimper. The dark haired girl followed the directions of the blonde, slipping a third finger inside of her which she knew would take her when she needed to go. “Feels so good, fuck.”

Sophie: A third finger felt a little snug, but she obeyed what the other girl was doing and because of the position of her hand and how she could reach even a bit further, Sophie felt her eyes rolling back with pleasure and it wouldn't really be long until she could be done. Moving the hand from her breast to meet the other one, her left fingers started palming at her clitoris, trying to rub at it to get the best sensation, the most amount of pleasure. "Baby, God, I'm so close Cami" She whimpered, eyes looking needy at the camera.

Cami: The third finger did feel a little snug inside of her but it felt good. Cami noticed the blonde’s eyes rolling back with pleasure and she could feel her own eyes doing the same. The dark haired girl pinched her own nipple one last time before moving her hand down from her breast to meet her other hand like Sophie had done. Within seconds she was palming herself and she could feel heat generating inside of her. “Me too, baby, me too,” she whimpered back, looking into Sophie’s eyes in the camera. “Go ahead, Soph, cum for me.”

Sophie: It was a mix of sensations as she closed her eyes again, between the way her hands worked inside of herself, the rubbing at her clit and the sexy voice that made her feel like Cami was right beside her, but in a matter of seconds, the next time Sophie reached her spot with her middle finger, she arched her back upwards and throwing her head back, she saw stars. Her mouth gaped open as she climaxed, quiet little moans and mentions off Camila's names falling off her lips like raindrops, she kept moving her fingers to ride herself out to the end. "God, that was fantastic" She said once she managed to catch her breath, her eyes opening to see Cami again.

Cami: watched as Sophie came undone in front of her eyes and as soon as she heard the quiet moans and mentions of her own name she was seconds away from coming undone. The dark haired girl rubbed at her clit, gripping the bed slightly as she rode herself out. Arching her back upwards, Cami let out a few loud moans, mumbling Sophie’s name as she came down from her high. “That was... wow,” she replied breathless, opening her eyes to focus on Sophie. It would’ve been even better if they’d been together in the same place, but it was the best they could do and it had been amazing. “Wish you were here,” she whispered with a pout.

Sophie: It took her a few minutes to compose herself, the soundtrack of Cami's moans behind her were really all she wanted and needed to end the day on a very high note and incredibly relaxed. She watched her finish with the loviest look on her face, smiling as they met their eyes on the screen "God, you look beautiful" She said with a soft sigh, rolling onto her stomach to grab her phone again "I wish I could cuddle you to sleep right now" She said, lazy arms bringing up the throw that was on the foot of the bed and wiggling herself under it.

Cami: rolled over onto her stomach as well, phone in hand. “You look so beautiful too, Soph,” she replied with a grin. “I wish you could cuddle me to sleep right now too, but I’ve got to take a shower and get ready for tonight. Wish you were here for that,” she added with a grin. “Can’t believe it’s almost time for you to sleep and my night is just beginning.”

Sophie: shook her head and pouted, taking in a deep breath through her nose and letting it out to relax "You're a busy lady, and if you escaped your job for this, you better go and get it done, crazy" She said with a big smile "Let me know how the show goes and give Jordan a big hug for me, okay?" She asked, knowing she was gonna fall asleep even before the show started after this ride.

Cami: “I know, I know, I could never miss out on seeing Jordan’s opening night,” she replied with a smile. “I just don’t want to say goodbye, but I’ll text you when I’m done with my shower, okay? You’ll probably be asleep, but it’s the thought that counts,” she added with one last look at the gorgeous blonde. “Sweet dreams, beautiful. I’ll tell you all about it in the morning. Love ya, Soph,” she whispered, blowing a kiss to the camera.

Sophie: "Let me know how it goes, and have so much fun, okay?" Sophie said with tired, sleepy eyes as she blew a kiss to Cami on the other side of the phone, wishing she could plant it on her lips instead. But as she learned all through today, this would have to do. And boy did it to her right.

[returnsandreturns]

Have one whole random chapter from the middle of the novel that I really want to start writing again but I don’t have TIME!!!! 

backstory: Andy’s writing the gay version of 50 Shades of Grey after stumbling into a dom/sub relationship. James and him are totally not in love at all. Laurel is my everything. I love them all so much, I wanna die.

“Are you watching porn at the dinner table?” Laurel asks.

“Well, it’s noon,” Andy says, not looking up from the screen, “so no. And it’s research.”

She bends down to look over his shoulder and whistles low.

“That’s quite a party,” she says.

“I knew sketchy sex clubs were a thing,” he says, pausing it and accepting the orange that she hands to him, “but this is the first time I’ve witnessed one. It’s—interesting.”

She sits across from him at the table and raises her eyebrows.

“You into it?” she asks.

“I think I would have a panic attack and die,” he says, shrugging, “but I can see the appeal.”

“Is your protagonist who definitely isn’t you at all into it?” she asks.

“He’s not,” he says, because he is not. Just because his main character, now generically named Tom, has certain similar characteristics and experiences doesn’t mean that it’s a memoir or something. He’s not writing a sex memoir.

“You might as well have named him Sandy,” Laurel says. Andy frowns at her.

“Anyway, I thought it would be an interesting thing to include, yeah,” he says. “I also thought about maybe—taking a field trip?”

She gasps.

“I wanna go!” she says.

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Strictly for tourism reasons,” she says, “but yes.”

“Okay, then,” Andy says, laughing. “You pull out the leather, I’ll keep talking to strangers on the internet about the best places to get weird in Queens.”

“You laugh but I have some cute leather pants,” she says. She’s been dutifully peeling her orange in one long peel and she sits it down on the table triumphantly. “I’m going to text Stef, we can double date.”

“Double date?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says, like it’s obvious, splitting the orange in half. “Stef, me, you and your sexy lawyer friend.”

He could ask James. It wouldn’t actually be a date, obviously, because who goes on a date at a weird sex club, and he might like it. He marked that he was somewhat interested in exhibitionism on his checklist, at least—Andy wasn’t sure whether that meant screwing in Central Park after dark or just, like, holding hands on the sidewalk, but this might be somewhere in the middle of those two.

“Okay,” he says, digging his thumbnail into the skin of his orange. “I’ll text him.”

After two solid hours of research, he texts James the name of the nicest club he can find that you don’t need a special invitation for and three question marks. In reply, he gets a phone call, which he answers immediately with, “I’m allowed to remind you that you’re older than me if you actually call me on the phone.”

“I couldn’t possibly forget that you’re younger than me,” James says, dryly, but not unkind. Just five years, but James would probably be more notably mature even if they were the same age. “Are you asking me to go to a club with you?”

“For research, not recreation,” Andy says, then, almost hopefully, “Unless you—want to have some recreation.”

“Do you?”

“If you do.”

“Andy,” James says, with a little stern dominant sneaking into his voice.

“Okay, it’s a firm maybe,” Andy says. “I do want you to come with me, though.”

James hums softly.

“If you want it,” he says. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Laurel and Stef are also coming,” Andy says.

“Recreationally?” James asks.

“No, they’re just going to be creepy and watch,” Andy says. “How’s Saturday sound?”

“Saturday works,” he replies. “Your sister isn’t coming, is she? She’s amazing, but I don’t want to publicly spank you in front of her, if it comes to that.”

Andy suddenly has a vivid mental image of being naked and bent over the bar at the place he met James at, skin slick and a little sticky from spilled drinks, being spanked hard in front of a group of people who can talk but not touch. He’s not sure he’s into it.

He might be into it.

“Andy?”

“Sorry, my imagination just took a spin,” he says, weakly. “Sara headed back home to wait and hear about her interview, so it’ll be just us.”

“Okay,” James says. “Let’s do it.”

After he hangs up, Andy goes back to reading the message he got back from some guy on FetLife whose icon is just a mouth with a ballgag in it, going over the description of the place they’re going and realizes that it’s technically a dungeon. Cool.

He might have to buy something latex to wear.

*

Laurel’s leather pants are actually really cute, deep red and tight and kind of like something that Faith from Buffy would wear, which is a compliment that makes her really happy.

“That’s, like, my entire life goal,” she says.

They’re huddled up outside the club, all of them dressed slightly too scantily for how cold it is, waiting for James. Andy’s just wearing tight jeans and a black t-shirt because he doesn’t have enough clothing to have actual outfits and Stef is wearing a little black dress that’s killer.

“If I get drunk enough,” Laurel says, looking Stef up and down for the tenth time tonight, “I might engage in some of that exhibitionism we were talking about.”

“Oh, there’s a one drink maximum,” Andy says. He forgot to mention that. They give him identical looks of horror.

“What kind of place is this?” Stef asks.

“A dungeon,” he says. “Do you really want to be in a room full of drunk people with paddles?”

“I certainly don’t,” James says, and Andy jumps a little and turns around to smile at him.

“You’re here,” he says. “At the dungeon.”

“I’m here,” James repeats, grinning. “At the dungeon. You ready?”

Andy takes a second to look at him, because he looks nice. Dark blue collared shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a couple more buttons unbuttoned than is necessarily appropriate for polite society. Andy kind of wants to rip the rest of them off, too.

James raises his eyebrows when Andy makes it back to his eyes again.

“Yeah,” Andy says, nodding. “I’m ready.”

“I’m not sure I am,” Laurel whispers, to Stef, as they go inside and immediately head down a large flight of stairs.

“We can leave,” Stef says. “I’ll take you out for ice cream instead.”

“. . .let’s see what it’s like first,” Laurel says, a little more firmly.

At the door, they have to fill out forms about liability and privacy and leave their cellphones, carefully marked so they can give a ticket back and retrieve it. It’s accompanied with a lecture about safety and consent and confidentiality, which makes Andy significantly less nervous about what’s going to happen inside. It seems like an extremely civilized weird public bondage dungeon.

When they step inside, it’s dark but in a mood lighting way, and there’s definitely—a mood. It doesn’t exactly look like a dungeon classically, but there are shackles involved. It’s kind of like a lounge but with a lot of very specific furniture—more specifically, things to be tied to.

There is a bar to the side, and James immediately nods at it and leads them there while they take in the scene.

There’s a woman tied up spread-eagled on the far wall, dressed in pretty black lingerie. She looks like she might be forty or so, and she has her head thrown back laughing while another woman runs a feather across her stomach. Andy waits to see how she reacts when she’s not laughing, when the feather isn’t touching her—she’s grinning. They’re both having fun.

Everyone is milling around in various states of either costume or undress. A guy’s getting flogged over a bench that he’s tied to with pink rope, counting the hits and asking for more. There are a couple of people on leashes, which does something to Andy that he’s not willing to contemplate too much, because he’s not sure he wants to be the kind of person who likes wearing a collar anywhere but the privacy of his own home.

(They haven’t actually done that yet, officially. He might’ve underlined it on his checklist a few times.)

“Okay, I think maybe I’ve seen enough,” Laurel says. She’s blushing bright red when Andy glances back at her, and Stef automatically slips an arm through hers and kisses her cheek. “I’m sorry, we’ve been here two seconds. That’s so lame.”

“It’s not,” Andy says, smiling at her. “I’m a little freaked out, too, honestly.”

“Do you want to leave?” James asks, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Absolutely not,” Andy says, turning to him quickly, and James laughs softly and tightens his fingers.

“We’re going to go get ice cream,” Stef says. “I would say we’ll see you later, but I assume you’ll be busy tonight.”

James’ fingers tighten even more and Andy’s eyes go wide.

“We’ll be busy tonight,” James says.

“Well, have fun!” Laurel says, voice going kind of squeaky, looking up at the ceiling so she doesn’t have to look around her.

“Just shut your eyes, sweetheart, I’ll guide you out,” Stef says, affectionately, wrapping an arm around her instead and leading her back towards the door. Andy suspects that this isn’t the firm time someone has walked in and immediately turned heel and left, and he has those suspicions confirmed by a tall, willowy blonde guy who approaches him with a sweet smile.

“First time?” he asks.

He can feel James go stiff behind him, hand sliding down to hold onto Andy’s elbow instead, and he glances back before he smiles and says, “Yeah. My friends decided it wasn’t for them.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to tell until you actually see it all happening at once,” the guys confirms, then extends a hand. “I’m Gabe.”

“Andy,” Andy says. “This is James.”

James openly ignores Gabe’s hand when it’s offered and Gabe smiles, dropping his arm.

“You two are cute together,” he says. “I’m guessing tall, dark and handsome here’s your dom?”

“Well, we’re just—” Andy starts, because they’re friends, because they haven’t phrased it in such clear terms. They really aren’t each other’s anything, if they’re being technical, and in the middle of a dungeon full of people who are two steps away from fucking each other just seems like the kind of time to be technical.

“Friends,” James offers, sounding pained.

Gabe looks between them for a moment before he hums softly.

“So, Andy, you wouldn’t mind if I steal you for a dance?” he asks.

“Oh, uhm—” Andy says, glancing back at James whose face has suddenly gotten tight.

“Go ahead,” he says, and Andy feels all of his internal organs sink for a moment—he knows they’re not dating, but he’s just going to let him go off with another guy? He doesn’t look happy about it but he’s willing to, like he doesn’t want Andy to himself enough to put aside the stupid unwritten rules of sex friends and just enjoy this weird sex dungeon together.

“Cool,” Andy says, keeping eye contact with him and smiling before offering a hand to Gabe, who looks amused as he takes it. Maybe not much hand-holding goes on in the weird sex dungeon.

Gabe pulls him over to a small dance floor on the other side of the room, with low jazz music and low lights so he feels like some type of ingenue or something when Gabe circles an arm around him and squeezes his hand.

They move in an unsteady rhythm—Gabe’s clearly good at leading and Andy, for all that he’s apparently extremely submissive, is terrible at being led—and Gabe moves in close to almost rest their cheeks together, practically crouching to do it because Andy’s like child-sized compared to him.

“Don’t look back,” Gabe says, softly, in his ear, “but I think your handsome friend might fight me later.”

“Are you into that?” Andy asks, almost serious.

“I’m strictly a lover,” Gabe says, laughing. “What’s the story here? What are we working with?”

Andy wonders if he should keep all of this to himself but he’s kind of mad and very sober and this guy seems confusingly wise, so he tells him basically everything, wraps his arms around his neck during a slow R&B song and spills all of his feelings—from the night they hooked up to right now, when he thought James would claim him.

“Let’s see if he’s—yep, death glare,” Gabe says, grinning down at Andy. “Want to make him jealous?”

“. . .tell me more,” Andy says.

This leads to Gabe leading him over to a dark corner with a couch and a few chairs, saying low, “I’m gonna sit down and you’re gonna get on your knees for me, okay?”

Andy hesitates for a moment before he murmurs, “Christ,” and sinks to his knees.

Gabe strokes his fingers through Andy’s hair before grinning down at him and saying, “Jackpot.”

“Can we talk?” James asks, from behind him, hands on his hips like a disapproving mother when Andy turns around to look at him.

“I’m kind of busy,” Andy says, raising his eyebrows.

“Andy.”

Gabe laughs and ruffles Andy’s hair, saying, “I think he means business, kid.”

Andy sighs and stands up, throwing a smile at Gabe over his shoulder as James leads him away, to a quiet corner where he surprises Andy by pushing him up against a wall and kissing him.

“What’s that for?” Andy asks, breathlessly.

“Did you want to go with that guy?”

“No, I wanted you to tell him to fuck off,” Andy says, laughing, “but I could. Isn’t that the arrangement? No rules, just right?”

“. . .that’s the Outback Steakhouse motto,” James says, faintly, “but yes.”

“You’re jealous,” Andy says. He was kind of pissed off for a second, but James has this look on his face like he’s been caught in the act and it makes Andy so happy. He’s normally the flustered one. Finally, the upperhand. “You don’t want anybody else to touch me, do you?”

“Not where I can see them,” James mutters, rolling his eyes.

“You want me all to yourself,” Andy says, grinning up at him and stepping in close. “You basically just pissed on me to mark your territory.”

“We both marked no to that on the checklist,” James says, and Andy laughs and pushes up into a kiss, curling a hand around the back of his neck. James looks slightly dazed when he steps back again, and Andy feels something stirring inside of him that he doesn’t want to hide. He doesn’t want to hide.

“Why don’t you show everyone who I belong to?” he asks, dropping his voice but keeping his chin tipped up, watching James’ expression slip from shocked to something sweet and dark. He lets out a shuddering breath before he lifts his hand to run fingers through Andy’s hair.

“What did you have in mind?”

*

They awkwardly talk to one of the employees just to make sure of the rules here because they’re both the least cool people in the world, but now Andy’s standing next to the bench the guy was getting flogged on earlier and trying to get the nerve up to take off most of his clothes in this room full of people. He could do it dressed, but somehow this seems important—being vulnerable and bare. To be looked at but not touched by anyone but James.

It sounds nice.

James sits down on a chair next to it and looks at him, just a little bit out of his element.

“Light?” he asks, when Andy shifts on his feet and smiles at him.

“Green,” Andy says. “Light?”

Andy’s never asked for one before. James actually takes a second to think about it before he says, “Green. Strip.”

The order helps, makes Andy shiver as he immediately takes his t-shirt off. Only a few people are watching them, and Gabe is one of them, draped over a couch and smiling. He looks like he’d probably like to take Andy apart, and Andy probably wouldn’t hate that, but—for this moment, at least, he belongs to someone.

When he’s down to his boxer briefs—thankfully tight and black and not something embarrassing—he steps up so he’s standing in front of James, who looks like he’d either like to fuck him right now in front of everybody or re-dress him and kiss him and go hold hands somewhere where nobody else can see them. It’s a weird look. Andy likes it a lot.

They ask each other for lights again and they’re both still green.

Andy lies across the bench, built with two levels so his chest is pressed up against the higher one and his knees rest on the lower one, putting his ass clearly on display if you’re standing in the right place. There are cuffs for his hands and feet, softly padded, and James puts them on him carefully before he leans down and tips Andy’s chin up, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth.

“Count for me, okay?” he asks. “We’ll do ten.”

Andy nods. This is one of those speechless moments, but he’s pretty sure that he can manage numbers at least. He lifts his head enough to see that more people are watching and he feels himself blush, pretty sure that his whole body’s going a little pink at least.

“Tell me you want it,” James asks, standing behind of him, smoothing a hand over the curve of his ass. It’s loud enough that the people close to them can probably hear.

“Please,” Andy says, and his voice is—shattered, like he hasn’t spoken all day, loud and shaking apart when he continues, “Please, spank me.”

He means it. He wants it, wants to feel what he feels when they’re alone, see how it changes when they’re showing off.

“Good boy,” James says, softly, just for him, and then he pulls back and hits Andy hard.

Andy makes a completely unmanly yelping noise but manages to gasp out, “One!”

With every hit, harder every time, he has no control over what noises he makes and he’s constantly caught between two thoughts, between this is so fucking hot and this is so fucking weird. The first one seems to dominate, though; he’s hard, dick pressed up against the bench and rubbing painfully every time he jerks forward and pushes back to take more.  

Right before James hits him one last time, he looks up to see that people are watching them with undisguised interest and his breath catches, breaking off into a pained sob of, “Ten, ten, ten,” when James hits him again.

When James immediately moves to kneel in front of him and kiss him, when it’s obvious that they’re done, there’s a light scatter of applause which is—somewhere between the fucking hot and fucking weird spectrum, but closer to the weird. He’s got tears running down his face that he didn’t even notice and James asks, “Are you okay?” while he’s already quickly uncuffing him.

“Fine,” Andy says, standing up slowly, leaning all of his weight on James when he wraps his arms around him. “Great, actually, just—wow.”

“Good fodder for your novel?” James asks, wiping the tears off his face and pressing a kiss to his forehead that makes Andy ache faintly. He wants James to take him home and curl up around him so they can fall asleep together almost as much as he wants to grind against him right now until he ruins his underwear. There’s no actual sex allowed in the building, but does it even count if your clothes don’t come off?

“Yeah, really good,” he says, laughing wetly. “My readers will love it. Can we go?”

“Had enough?”

“I would let you fuck me right here if you wanted to,” Andy says, eyes wide and serious. “So let’s not get in trouble and go back to your—my place, actually, my place is closer, c’mon.”

“You have to wear clothes to leave,” James says, amused but gently, like he’s concerned about him. It’s not undeserved. The last time Andy felt this wired and intense, he was in the middle of a manic episode, but—it’s all overeager brain chemicals, in the end.

“Obviously,” he says, laughing breathlessly. He gets dressed quickly and James immediately wraps an arm around his shoulders and leads him toward the door.

“Hey, kid!” Gabe says, approaching them. “Good show.”

Andy’s in no state to talk to anyone right now, anyway, nevertheless someone who just watched him get spanked and clearly love it, so he just smiles at the way James holds him closer and says, “Thanks. We’re headed out.”

“I’m giving you my number,” Gabe says, holding out a receipt with a number scrawled out on it. “I was going to do it just to make your friend jealous because he’s cute when he looks like he’s about to kill someone but I also try to make friends with all the baby kinksters.”

“Friends?” James asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Friends,” Gabe repeats, seriously. “I’ve been around the block and I’m actually not a creep, so—hit me up if you have questions about the scene or whatever.”

“You don’t look that much older than me,” Andy says.

“Started young,” Gabe says, winking. “Have fun, boys.”

As soon as Gabe walks away, James says, “I don’t like him.”

Andy laughs and tugs him towards the door.

“Take me home, sailor.”

*

The next morning, Andy wakes up in his bed alone and immediately makes a sad noise before he hears noise from the living room. He puts on a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt before he heads out to find Laurel and James sitting at the kitchen table together, talking over big cups of coffee.

“Oh, hi,” Laurel says, when she sees him. “We were just talking about you.”

“. . .why?” he asks, suspiciously, bypassing them to get his own coffee.

“I think I just got the shotgun speech,” James says, sounding like he’s actually uncomfortable, and Andy groans.

“You’re not my real dad,” he says, pointing at Laurel as he sits down with them.

“I thought it needed to be said,” Laurel says, simply, “that if he hurts you in any way that you don’t specifically ask for, then I will physically fight him to the death.”

Andy sighs, turning to smile at James and say, “I apologize for her. She’d probably win, though.”

“I don’t doubt it,” James says, smiling back weakly. “I should probably walk of shame my way back to my place, though.”

“I could make you breakfast,” Andy says, while he’s trying to figure out if they have any food to actually accomplish that. He thinks that they have one single egg left, which could work in a pinch.

“It’s okay,” James says, getting up and reaching over to ruffle his hair. “I’ll talk to you later. Last night was fun.”

“Yeah,” Andy says, lamely, as James immediately heads for the front door. “Later.”

As soon as the door shuts, he turns to Laurel.

“What the fuck?” he asks.

“Geez, calm down,” she says, looking genuinely angry. “That’s a prerequisite best friend speech.”

“For someone you’re dating,” Andy says.

“Oh my god, you might as well be,” she says. “You fell in love with him the first time you slept with him.”

“I didn’t fall—maybe I fell in love with his dick, but that’s it,” he says, firmly.

“Bullshit,” Laurel says. Her voice is flat, a little softer than it was. “You don’t have to lie to me. You know that.”

“I’m not lying. I like him a lot,” Andy says, “but I’m okay with what we are. I mean, shit, we can’t all U-Haul with the first girl we date freshman year like you did.”

Laurel’s lips, once set in a thin angry line, wobble just a little. Andy feels bad because that’s a sore spot between them—once, when he got in a tift with Stef, he said something about how Laurel settled for her and it fucked them all up for a week or two. He shouldn’t have brought it up again.

“You look at him like I look at her,” she says, after a long stretch of silence, “and I’m in love. I just don’t want you to get your heart broken because he’s too much of a dick to realize that you’re worth more than casual sex.”

“We both agreed that it was just—no, you know what, just stay out of it, Laurel,” Andy says, standing up and turning to go back to his room before turning back to grab his coffee. “I didn’t ask you to get involved.”

Laurel’s face gets distinctly more wobbly and he immediately feels terrible, but he’s also mad at her and worried that James is going to back out of this because it’s getting too serious and, also, he’s way hungrier than one egg could possibly satisfy.

“Sorry,” she says, softly, like it hurts to get out. She gets up and leaves her coffee behind, shutting her door behind her, leaving him there to think about how he’s the worst person in the entire world.

When he goes back to his room, he writes two thousand words about how amazing his protagonist’s best friend is. He might email it to her later. He also texts James to apologize and gets back: you’ve got great friends. you should thank her for watching out for you.

God, he’s mature. It’s infuriating.

Andy grabs his laptop and heads to Laurel’s room to read the best friend description aloud to her instead of emailing it.

After that, he might make her muffins or something.

*

They’re sitting on James’ bed, both of them on their laptops working—James on something legal and official and Andy on a scene where his two main characters talk about gangbangs for three pages but no gangbangs actually happen, because the mechanics would have to be difficult.

“How hard do you think it is to choreograph a gangbang?” he asks, without looking up.

“. . .uhm,” James says.

“I’m writing porn,” Andy reminds him, flicking his eyes up, and James huffs out a laugh.

“Oh, right,” he says. “Good. And—well, it depends on how many people are involved, but that’s—a lot of limbs.”

“Yeah,” Andy says, nodding aimlessly. “Too many tabs, too many slots.”

“It’s so hot when you talk about sex like it’s IKEA furniture,” James says. He finishes up what he’s doing and shuts his laptop, putting it on his bedside table before he sprawls out on his back. “Ready whenever you are.”

Andy snorts and finishes his sentence before he follows suit, crawling on top of James to straddle his hips. James smiles up at him.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“. . .uhm, do you think we could go shopping together sometime?” Andy asks.

“For. . .?”

“A collar,” Andy says.

He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about wearing a collar for him—a real one, one that they pick out together. And a leash. And nothing else.

“Oh, wow,” James says, softly. “That’s really hot, Andy.”

“. . .but?” He’s pretty sure there’s a but, because James’ face is doing a thing, kind of hesitant and nervous. James reaches up to brush hair away from his face before sits up with Andy in his lap, steadying them and then kissing him on the mouth.

“Is this about the other night?” he asks.

“. . .I mean, seeing people on leashes did increase my interest, yeah,” Andy says.

“No, I mean—when that guy flirted with you,” James says, then, carefully, “When you said you belonged to me.”

“Oh,” Andy says. “That.”

He’d been a little drunk on the situation at the time, but. He still kind of meant it. It’s not very casual, though. Can you casually belong to someone?

“I wanted to talk about that, too, actually,” he says. “Why were you so jealous?”

“. . .I wasn’t jealous, really,” James says. “I just didn’t want you to go off with somebody you didn’t know, when you’d never been somewhere like that before. It’s not safe.”

“You were just concerned for my safety,” Andy says, humming softly, “and you wouldn’t have been jealous at all if I’d let him take my clothes off and bend me over something and make me cry.”

“No,” James says, unconvincingly.

“You wouldn’t have been jealous,” Andy says, because he knows exactly what’s happening here—or at least half of what’s happening here, “if I’d left you there and took him home and let him do whatever he wanted to me?”

“Not at all,” James says, and Andy grins at him and pushes him down, bending to kiss him.

“I’ll just go do that then,” he says, starting to get up, and James basically growls and drags him back down to flip him over and get on top of him.

“Okay, I don’t like the idea of anybody else touching you,” he admits, “but I wouldn’t stop you.”

“Good to know,” Andy says, even though he really wants to tell him that he doesn’t want anyone else to touch him. That saying he belonged to James made something dark and pleased shoot through him and seeing the look on James’ face made it even stronger.

He wishes there was some way to ask him if they could be monogamous sex friends without actually using the phrase monogamous sex friends. Or sounding like he’s actually proposing.

“What if,” he says, slowly, “when we’re alone, though—we act like I belong to you? Casually?”

“Casually,” James repeats.

“You can own me just for fun,” Andy says, smiling. “Be my dom, not my boyfriend.”

“And we’d buy you a collar,” James says, brushing fingers over Andy’s throat before he circles it lightly, squeezing enough that Andy’s breath catches and he squirms underneath him.

“And a leash,” he agrees, breathlessly.

James leans down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Want to go now?” he asks, softly, thumb pressed into Andy’s throat.

“After,” Andy says.

“After?”

“After,” Andy repeats, significantly, going for completely unsubtle and wrapping his legs around his waist.

[ghoulboyboos]

Could you do some pinning Shane in his point of view please? (P.s love your work!)

Okay nonny, I’m gonna assume you meant “pining” Shane because that’s my jam. If you for some reason asked for Shane pinning down Ryan, please let me know! (Also Sara is Shane’s BFF here.)

Shanesits back in his chair and sighs, rubbing at his eyes. He has beenediting Ruining History for over three hours now and his eyes arestarting to feel like boiled eggs. Something about it drains him andShane technically knows what it is, but he doesn’t like to thinkabout it.

It’sRyan.

Heskips through the different camera shots and stops at a shot of Ryanlaughing. His face is lit up with that brilliant smile and Shaneremembers exactly when it was. He is editing the Alesia episode andRyan is smiling at the camera because Shane put a sports referencein. Just for him. Ryan picked up on it and so did Sara. Sara whoimmediately “awww”-ed because she knows of Shane’s crush. Shanecould smack himself with his own keyboard because it’s too obviouswhat he is doing. Instead, he looks up. Ryan is smiling right at thecamera as he mentions how sweet Shane is being and Shane stares inthose deep, brown eyes and allows himself to imagine that Ryan couldlook at him just like that. Surprised and happy and kind. Shanesighs.

Part ofhim wants to reach out and touch the screen, imagine being able totouch Ryan’s face for real. But that would be a little too cliché,so he doesn’t. Instead, he saves his work and closes the program.He’s already too blunt sometimes. He remembers grabbing at Ryanwhen they were at Knott’s Berry Farm and holding onto his shoulder.He remembers every time Ryan gives him a hug, which sadly isn’tvery often and how hard it is to let him go. Shane remembers that onenight where they hung out at the Tiki Bar and had a couple of drinks,laughing about something he doesn’t remember.

Ryanhad dropped against his shoulder because he couldn’t sit uprightwith how hard he was laughing and Shane had looked down, fully awarethat his cheeks were flushed and Ryan had looked up at him andgrinned. With the alcohol numbing his inhibitions, Shane had reachedout and cupped Ryan’s chin to tilt up his face. He barely remembersRyan’s reaction, except for those deep brown eyes widening. Shanehad barely leaned in when somewhere across the bar, a tray of glasseshad fallen and smashed on the ground and both of them had shot upfrom where they sat and checked in to see if anyone was hurt. Ryannever brought it up again and Shane is grateful. Sure, the memorymakes him feel warm and excited, but the idea of scaring Ryan off andmaking him uncomfortable is too much to bear. He is glad that Ryanapparently decided to ignore it. Or maybe he had been too drunk andjust forgotten about it.

Shanestares at his dark screen and sighs.

He hasbecome so dependent on Ryan. The man is his best friend and Shanewill always hit him up when there is something social going on. Shaneis not the most outgoing or social person ever, he prefers outingswith one or two friends. Going to the movies with Ryan means beingclose to him and indulging in the fantasy that somehow, they could bemore. But he usually drags Sara along so there is someone to keep aneye on him and make sure he doesn’t mess up.

Saraalways wanted him to tell Ryan the truth and Shane agrees. Ryandeserves the truth. But Shane is just so damn afraid.

Onenight he is lying in bed, listening to the radio and “Please Don’tLeave Me” by P!nk comes on and without any warning, he startscrying. He has no idea why the hell the song even has an impact onhim, but he guesses it’s the title alone that scares the fuck outof him. Shane grabs a pillow and pulls it close, crying into it likehe is a teenager with a crush and he just begs and hopes and prays towhoever or whatever is listening, that one day Ryan might entertainthe idea of loving him back.

A bunchof their friends are getting married and announce that they are goingto have kids and Shane would be a bad best friend if he didn’tnotice Ryan’s soft, sad expressions whenever something like thatwas announced. Ryan was everyone’s biggest supporter, the type togive you a way-too-expensive wedding gift or the one who is the firstto notice that someone is pregnant.

Shaneknows why. Above all, Ryan wants a family and Shane hopes dearly thathe will have that some day. Despite his infatuation, he wants Ryan tobe happy his way. So insteadof focusing on his crush, he sometimes dreams about Ryan finding “theone”, a beautiful and kind woman that matches his personality andmakes him happy. Someone to raise kids with, someone to grow oldwith. Shane’s heart breaks at the thought but at least the image ofRyan hugging his kids and smiling soothes the pain. Maybe, one day,after everything has died down a little, Shane would be able to tellhim.

-

Lifenever goes the way he planned.

Theyare out one night. Sara is nursing a cold so she told them shewouldn’t be able to come last minute and there is nobody to keepShane in line when they’re watching a movie. He is gripping thearmrests of his seat tightly, as if they are watching a horror movie,because he doesn’t trust himself that he won’t reach out to Ryanand breach a barrier he’s not allowed to break down.

Atone point, Ryan puts his arm on the space between them and his handlands on Shane’s and Shane gasps and pulls back.

“Sorry.”He whispers. “Didn’t mean to hog it all.”

Inthe flickering of the film projector he can see Ryan’s white teethand his friend is grinning.

“Noworries, man. It’s all good.”

Shaneswallows. If Ryan only knew. Thing were not good at all.

It’sRyan’s idea to go for karaoke afterwards and Shane loves karaoke,but he is also terrified.

Theyhave a lot of fun drinking and singing songs. It always takes them abit to get buzzed enough to feel comfortable to sing, but at somepoint they usually get too drunk to keep singing.

Agirl stumbles on the stage and the familiar “dadadada dadadada”comes on and Shane swallows. She doesn’t quite have P!nk’s lungs,but she doesn’t sound bad. Ryan next to him moves his head slightlyin the beat, but when the singer croons “Please, don’t leaveme...” Shane feels tears well up behind his eyes. He drops his headand chokes on a sob and when Ryan puts a hand on his shoulder, hebreaks down into sobs.

Hedoesn’t remember much of the night, there are only quick and shortimpressions. Ryan’s worried face, the seat of an Uber car, hisfront door, his bed.

Shanewakes up to a series of text messages from Ryan explaining that hehad made sure Shane got home safe and that he hopes he’s fine and areminder that they are best friends and that Shane can come to himwith anything.

Shaneswallows hard and types a single message back.

“Ican’t tell you this one. You would hate me.”

Themessage is read almost immediately afterwards, but he doesn’t get aresponse. There is not even a notification that Ryan is typing, soShane drops his phone in his bed and forces himself out of hisbedroom to take a shower. He stands in the middle of his kitchen,chewing on cereal and contemplating his life when the doorbell rings.

It’sRyan.

Shane’sheart beats hard enough to make him feel nauseous as he counts theseconds Ryan will need to call the elevator and ride it up. There isa knock on his door and Shane takes a deep breath before he opens it.

Ryanlooks amazing for someone who had been out drinking until three inthe morning. He seizes Shane up and looks at him like he isn’t surewhat to say.

“CanI come in?” He finally says.

Shanesteps to the side and lets him.

Theysit on Shane’s couch, each of them nursing a coffee. Finally, Ryanis talking.

“Listen…Shane. I know I’m not good at relationships myself, but if you needany advice or support… or even an open ear… You know I’m herefor you, right?”

Shanecloses his eyes. He wants to laugh and cry at the same time, but morethan everything he wants to hug Ryan.

“Iknow.”

“And…I mean, you’re entitled to your opinion but I have to say it kindahurt to hear that you think I would hate you for you being in lovewith someone. I mean, hey, even if I didn’t like them, if they makeyou happy? That’s a great reason for me to support you.”

Shanepresses a hand to his mouth and tries to keep his breathing even.

“Shane.You can tell me anything. I really mean it.”

Shanetakes a deep breath and steels himself.

“Iwas afraid for multiple reasons…. It’s not because of you, notjust. In general. You see...”

Hesighs and places his mug on the table, leaning back to stare at hisempty hands.

“It’sa guy.”

Heglances up and sees Ryan’s eyes transfixed on him as he puts hiscup away as well.

“Okay?Is that… Shane, I would never judge you for that. I really- I meanit sounds stupid saying that but I have no problem with people whoaren’t straight.”

“Iknow.” Shane sighs. “The thing is, you know him, very well.”

“Okay?”Shane can see that Ryan is mentally going through a list of theirmale friends. “So, why is it a problem? Is he married?”

Shaneswallows. “No.”

“Inany sort of relationship?”

Shaneshakes his head.

“So…are you afraid that he’s straight?”

Shanethinks for a moment.

“That’snot it… He wants a family. He wants children. Even if he were to…indulge me… I’m scared of taking that life away from him.”

Shaneexpects Ryan to nod in understanding, instead his friend scoffs.

“Thatdoesn’t have to mean anything! There are many ways to have childrenand a family when you’re a same sex couple or when you can’t haveyour own kids.” He glances over at Shane. “Don’t let that…you never know! If he makes you happy, you probably make him happytoo! I know you make me happy.”

Hesmiles up at Shane and Shane feels his breath stop.

“Youdon’t mean that.” He says, trying to fight the pain in histhroat. “You mean it differently...”

Ryanblinks. Then he blinks again. Then, his eyes widen.

“Oh…Shane...”

“Please.”Shane wrenches his eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I… I won’t make youuncomfortable, I promise, I just want to be your friend, okay? Pleasedon’t-”

Hecan’t say it, but in his head he is shouting “Please, pleasedon’t leave me. Please, Ryan, any way you want me to be yourfriend, I will be that-”

Ryancups Shane’s face in his hands and smiles up at him.

“Isthat it? Is that what was on your mind the last couple of weeks…months?”

Shanewrenches his eyes shut and nods.

“OhShane…”

“I’msorry...”

“No,Shane. I’m sorry. You’ve gone through so much pain… do you…do you hate me now?”

Shanelaughs. It’s dry and painful. He finally opens his eyes to look atRyan.

“Icould never hate you. I was so afraid you would leave.”

“OhShane...”

Ryanshakes his head and then he pulls his legs up on the couch and pushesup on his knees. His hands still cradle Shane’s face and then hepulls the stunned man into a soft kiss.

“Whydidn’t you tell me? I saw you back off and I thought you didn’twant this… I thought…”

Ryanshakes his head and Shane can only stare at him, stunned.

“Oh.”He finally says. “You’re not leaving?”

Ryanchuckles and kisses his cheek.

“I’mnot going anywhere.”

Shaneslowly brings his arms up to wrap them around Ryan’s form. He’ssolid and real and not a dream.

-

Theygo on their first date the following evening. Shane can hold Ryan’shand while they are watching the movie and when Ryan drops him off athis apartment, Ryan pulls Shane down and gives him a soft kiss on themouth.

Shanemelts into Ryan and when he falls asleep later, he dreams of hangingwith Ryan in their flat and he can take his hand without problem andthere is the vague memory of planning a family and everything isokay.

[shiningstarsandbrightmoons]

(Ace)ceptence

The messages had begun to take a more sexual note again.

Megan closed the app and tossed her phone onto the bedside table, laying her forearm over her eyes and trying not to scream into the void. She didn’t want to wake her family. But the constant messages were getting on her nerves. Just one time she wished someone who understood and respected her and her sexuality would come along, give her the love and attention she craved without constantly thinking about sex.

She sat up as her phone screen lit up, but she ignored it, reaching over and flicking her lamp on. The cover of her newest read caught her attention and she debated whether or not to keep reading. Ultimately the call of thirst pulled her out of bed and downstairs, to the kitchen, where her bottle of water sat on the bench. She guzzled just over half of it, refilled it, put it in the fridge, and returned to her room. Her cat meowed at her from his little nest on her other set of pillows, having been disturbed, no doubt. She scratched his head then laid back down, staring up at the roof and imagining a day where she could be free of the apparent obsession with sex her generation appeared to possess.

Her phone screen lit up as her alarm began to sound. She looked over and groaned, sitting up once more and tapping the button to turn it off. She was displeased with having to actually get up and start the day, but she’d been awake since 3am, and her early mornings were an excellent alternative to living with her father.

She changed into a simple outfit. Her only decent bra, a pair of clean underwear, plain ankle socks, skinny jeans, the shirt she’d slept in, and an oversized hoodie she’d picked up from a recent show she’d gone to see. More effort than that would have required more concentration than she could muster. The only addition to her outfit was a plain wristwatch – silver with a thin black band – she’d been given by her younger brother for her nineteenth birthday.

After a quick breakfast – leftover fruit salad with some yoghurt – she headed outside and got into her car. The sun was only just beginning to rise, and so was a dark feeling in her gut, but she quashed it. She simply lamented over the dark morning as she dumped her backpack in her passenger seat and set up her music. But as she went to hit play a text interrupted her, and almost on instinct she opened the app to reply. The confronting image almost made her toss her phone out the window.

But she was never that drastic, so she simply curled her lip, deleted the message, closed the app and started her commute to school.

“Hey~!” Lily chimed as she bounced over to Megan’s car, just as she pulled up. Megan looked up as her best friend approached and mentally prepared herself for the story that was to come. The hickey on Lily’s neck – not even 24 hours old – gave indication as to what Lily had been up to.

“Morning.” She stepped out of the car, pulling her bag out after you. “Have fun last night?”

Lily’s hand went straight to the hickey and she gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Uhh… yeah!”

Megan wanted to go crawl in a hole and curl up, but Lily was her best friend. So she let her tell the story of her recent sexcapade; it just reconfirmed her early morning thoughts. She shook her head as she listened, timing these actions with one of Lily’s many shameful fails. To Megan, these stories were disgusting and she would have been able to go her whole life without hearing them.

“Sooo… how’s Tinder going for you?!”

Lily’s abrupt change in topic startled Megan. She stumbled over her words before managing, “Eh.”

“Oh come on!” She grabbed Megan’s phone right out of her hands. “Let’s see…”

Megan snatched it. “Don’t pry!” she snapped. Lily recoiled, eyes wide, before she mumbled something and wandered over to some of their classmates, waiting for the teacher to arrive and unlock the classroom. That feeling in the pit of Megan’s stomach returned. She followed. “Lil—”

“It’s fine.”

Megan paled. Not because of her friend but because of the stares of her classmates. Her rational mind knew they were confused stares, but her heart began to race, and she paled and backed away. Deciding to call it a day then and there, she left and headed back to her car. She would talk to Lily later in the day.

Her phone kept pinging but she couldn’t bring herself to pick it up and check the messages. In the background Doctor Who was playing but she had her back turned to her television, instead staring mindlessly at the wall. Her thoughts raced around in her head.

The pinging stopped, and for a few minutes, there was silence save for her cat’s soft purring. But then the ringing began. She had to answer, what if it was work? She blindly fumbled behind her and scooped up her phone, not even bothering to check the caller ID before hitting ‘accept call’ and putting it to her ear. “Megan speaking.”

“Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeg!” Lily’s voice bordered on frantic. “Good god, woman, you’ve been worrying me sick! Why haven’t you been answering?! Why did you go home?!”

“I felt sick,” was her simple reply.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because I upset you. Just decided to tell you later.”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, then, “Are you home?”

“Where else would I be?”

The line went dead and Megan blinked before tossing her phone onto her other pair of pillows, not particularly interested in the twenty odd Tinder messages she had awaiting her. When she eventually picked up the device again, she noted that most of the messages were images. Several were penises, but there were a couple of vaginas in there too. Regardless, vomit rose higher and higher in her throat as she deleted message after message.

As she deleted the final message her bedroom door exploded open and Lily threw herself onto the bed. “Meeeeeg~!”

“Hello,” she managed to laugh, despite an abrupt spike of anxiety. “How was class?”

“Eh, booooooring,” she dismissed. “We were just doing workshopping today. Poor Brandon got hashtag roasted~!”

Lily continued to babble on, stopping only when Megan’s phone lit up with a message from yet another Tinder match. Megan sighed and opened the message, only to be confronted by the biggest schlong she’d ever seen. She could not hide her repulsion, and Lily blinked.

“Meg, you okay?”

“I… I’m fine.” She deleted the message. “Just going to delete Tinder, to be honest.”

“Why…? You okay?”

She rubbed her face. “I just… I hate it. This… This stupid obsession everyone seems to have with sex and sexuality and I just…” She gripped her hair and tugged. “What the fuck is wrong with me?!”

“Hm… maybe there isn’t!” Lily’s eyes glittered. “Here!” She grabbed Megan’s Macbook and opened it, typing away quickly before thrusting the computer into her lap. “This might be you!”

She checked the screen, and her eyes widened.

An asexual person (“ace”, for short) is simply someone who does not experience sexual attraction.  That’s all there is to it.  Aces can be any sex or gender or age or ethnic background or body type, can be rich or poor, can wear any clothing style, and can be any religion or political affiliation.

In short: There is no asexual "type".

She kept reading, and the more she learned… the more she felt at peace. That’s me, she whispered to herself. She glanced up at Lily, who was smiling broadly, and tears welled in her eyes as she managed, “I… I’m asexual! I’m… I’m not broken…!”

“No, you’re not…!” Lily took the Macbook and set it aside. “Oh, Meg… you should have told me earlier…”

“I couldn’t.” Because you don’t need to be burdened by my shit. “I didn’t know what I was feeling…”

Lily hugged her. “Well, now you know. Now hopefully you can feel a bit better. And… I guess me setting up a Tinder account for you was a stupid thing to do, hey?”

“Just a bit, yeah,” Megan laughed, picking up her phone and deleting the app as if to say, ‘Goodbye, fuckboys!’ And the rest of the night was spent by the two laughing, watching horror films and cat videos.

To be asexual is to be on the fringes of sexuality. But like bisexuality and pansexuality, heterosexuality and homosexuality, asexuality is real. It may be unaccepted in many circles, and it may be deemed a falsehood by many more, but it is real. Those who are asexual are not broken, they do not need a good fucking to fix them. They are asexual, they experience no sexual attraction, and that does not limit their capacity for love, for romantic capability. Sexuality is just one piece of the puzzle.

Asexuality is normal for the one percent of people believed to be asexual. And it should be normal for every part of the LGBTQ+ community. To all my asexual followers, I see you, and I love you. You are not broken. You are normal, you are whole, you are perfect.

[blessedbyharrystyles]

Model Behavior - Part 2

This series is about y/n who gets set up with Harry Styles as a publicity relationship. Things start off rough and are complicated by y/n being in a relationship already. Sorry for any typos I’m human and sometimes fuck up please forgive me.

Warnings: None for this part

Part 1

Masterlist

You swung the door open to your apartment, fear sparking in you for a second as you saw a figure sitting on your couch. However, fear melted to relief as you realized it was just your boyfriend. You should be used to it by now, Jason had a key to your place (and you to his) so he was always popping by unannounced, but it still startled you every time you walked in on him.

“Hey baby,” Jason greeted you.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” you sighed, shutting the door behind you.

“Rough workday?” he guessed.

“You could say that,” you sighed, slumping down on the couch next to him.

“What could be so rough about modeling? The camera flash hurt your eyes?” Jason teased. You rolled your eyes. It wasn’t the first time Jason made a jab about your job. In fact, it was the biggest point of contention in your relationship. Jason didn’t think modeling was a real career. He always said that in a couple years you’ll be too old for it and that only skill I’ll have to show for it in the “real job market” is the ability to smile in front of a camera.

Of course, that irritated you to no end. He didn’t know the first thing about what it takes to model, and he didn’t care enough to learn about it even if it was what you loved. Normally you would call him out on it, but you were not in the mood for a fight today.

“No, I just had to deal with someone who was a total jerk,” you told him. You scowled, thinking about the interaction all over again.

“I’m sorry baby, you don’t deserve that,” Jason said wrapping his arm around you, “How about I order us some pizza to make up for it?”

“You read my mind,” you smiled, giving him a peck on the lips.

A little while later you were on cuddled on the couch with Jason, pajamas on and pizza in hand. You had almost forgot about your shitty day. You were mindlessly flipping through your phone with your free hand, when suddenly Jason started hitting your shoulder.

“Babe, is- is that you?” Jason asked, nodding towards the TV. You looked up, shocked to find images of yourself on the screen.

The entertainment reporter spoke, “Harry Styles was spotted today with a mystery woman. No one knows were she came from, or what the nature their relationship is, but it sure looks like they were having a good time together.”

You nearly laughed out loud at her last statement. The pictures they showed did make it seem like you were having a good time, though. Maybe you should take up acting, you thought sarcastically.

There were a few blurry ones through the window of the cafe of both of smiling (though you thought you may having calling him an asshole in that moment), and then a couple of you leaving and him following after. You had been in such a huff, you hadn’t even notice people taking pictures of you.

“Uh... yeah,” you admitted, not knowing what else to say. You knew he was going to find out eventually, but you didn’t think it was going to be this soon.

“You want to tell me what’s going on there?” he asked, irritation clear in his voice.

“I, um, I have an opportunity to work on a project with him. I have to do some private interviews with him, he wants to pick the model to work with. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you babe, you know how it is with the famous people, they try to keep everything so secretive. I had to sign papers and everything. I don’t even know exactly what I’m interviewing for,” you lied. You were proud of yourself so making it up so quickly.

“You can’t even tell your boyfriend you’re going to be working with one of the most famous guys on the planet?” Jason questioned. You could sense his jealous side was coming out. You guessed you would be jealous too if Jason was suddenly photographed with Ariana Grande.

“It’s a bunch of crazy paperwork,” you tried to explain, “It’s like when if you worked on a movie you wouldn’t be allowed to talk about anything you filmed until it’s released. Believe me, I wish I could talk about it. Truth be told, he’s the asshole I had to deal with today, but I signed something that said I’m not allowed to talk badly about him.”

Jason scoffed. “So you he can be a total douche to you and then you can’t even talk about it or you’ll get sued? What a piece of shit.”

“Seriously,” you agreed, glad he was focusing on that, rather than the fact you hadn’t told him about it, “Must have the world’s most fragile ego.” You rolled your eyes just thinking of him.

“Do you have to see him again?” Jason asked.

“Probably,” you replied cautiously, “I think there are a few rounds to the interview.” It wasn’t a total lie.

“Why do you even want to work with a guy who’s such an asshole?”

“I don’t want to, but it would be good for my career. He’s got millions of fans, anything with him could give me great exposure. It could launch my career,” you told him, repeating what Marcy told you. The words felt bitter in your mouth - you hated having to say Harry would be an important part of your career - however you knew it would be the easiest thing for Jason to understand.

“Yeah I guess so,” he sighed, still seeming a bit uncertain.

“Don’t worry about it babe, I want nothing to do with him. I’ve only got eyes for you,” you assured. You cupped his face, pulling him in for a kiss.

Jason smiled as you pulled away. “Well if he’s a jerk to you again, I could beat him up for you.”

You giggled, “I may just have to take you up on that.”

A few days later you were milling around your apartment trying to clean things up when there was a knock at your door. You thought it was Jason stopping by on his lunch hour, but you were met by a stranger.

“Uh hi,” you said, unable to hide the confusion in your voice. You raised your eye brows, noticing the man had a large bouquet of peonies in his hand.

“Are you y/n?” he asked, reading from the card attached to the flowers.

“That’s me.”

“These are for you,” he stated, handing you the flowers and walking off before you could ask who sent them. You shut the door, breathing in the sweet, fresh scent of the blush colored flowers - which happened to be your favorite.

You set them down on your table, pulling the little card out of the envelope attached to the bouquet by white ribbon. In big, loopy cursive read, “Sorry for being an asshole - H.”

You let out a laugh, tossing the card down on the table. Did he really thing a few flowers would make up for how he acted? You thought about throwing the flowers away for a second, but decided it would be a shame to waste such a beautiful bouquet. After all, the flowers weren’t the ones who were assholes.

A few moments later your phone rang and you groaned when you realized it was Marcy. To your dismay, she told you you had another “date” with Harry today. Your date would consist of an hour walking around Central Park. Lovely. Maybe you could throw yourself in front of a hot dog cart and put yourself out of your misery, you thought to yourself.  

Marcy told to you to dress incognito, so you opted for jeans, a sweatshirt, and a large pair of sunglasses. At least maybe you had a chance of not being noticed today.

A text from Fred informed you that it was time to go. You trudged down the stairs, mentally preparing yourself for an annoying hour. When you slid into the back seat of the Escalade you gasped, not expecting another person to be there.

It was none other than Harry himself. Great.

“Hi,” he said with a soft smile. The set of balls on this one, you thought.

“So you always send girls flowers when you’re an asshole or?” you questioned him. You could of sworn you heard Fred let out a small snicker as he drove.

“Believe it or not, I’m usually not an asshole,” Harry replied.

“Ha!” you scoffed. “Could have fooled me.”

“You’re right,” he nodded, “I’ve given you no reason to think anything else of me, and for that I am really sorry.”

“Why’d you do it then?” you asked, not letting him get off that easy.

“Well, this isn’t my first time doing something like this,” Harry began, “Usually the girls I’m arranged with are just using me for fame, going after my money, trying to sleep with me, or a combination of all three. I’m constantly being used and I hate it. I thought if I put a wall up right away I could avoid it, but when you said what you did, I realized you weren’t using me like everyone else. And that I was being nasty to you for no reason.”

You nodded, understanding why he acted how he did. You hated doing this once, you couldn’t imagine having to do it multiple times. Especially if you were constantly dealing with people who were just trying to get something from you.

“It’s alright, I forgive you,” you told him, “This is a shitty thing to always have to be doing.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” he sighed, pulling the grey beanie on his head further down to cover his dark curls.

“Here,” Fred announced. Harry put on a dark pair of sunglasses before pushing open the car door. He held it for you, allowing you to slide out.

“See ya in an hour Fred,” you said, before shutting the door behind you. The two of you walked towards the entrance of the park, making sure not to stand too close together, as you were still in the no touching phase.

“So why did you agree to do this, if you don’t mind me asking. You don’t seem like the kind of girl who does things she doesn’t want to,” Harry said, his hands resting comfortably in his pockets as he walked.

“I wasn’t going to. I told my agent no initially,” you explained, “No offense, but I don’t like the whole idea of using a guy to get myself recognition. If I am successful. I want it to be from my own hard work and nothing else.”

“I completely respect that,” Harry nodded.

“Unfortunately, my agent had different ideas. She told me I could say no, but that people who say no to her don’t last long in the agency. So basically it was do something shitty, or lose my job altogether,” you told him.

“I’m sorry, that’s really shitty,” Harry sympathized.

“Well at least I’m not dealing with a total asshole anymore,” you teased, “I honestly don’t know how I would have made it through this if you were like that every time we met.”

“I’m glad I could make it slightly better for you,” Harry replied, “I never asked, did you like the flowers?”

“Loved them,” you replied, “Peonies are my favorite. My boyfriend always insists on getting roses, which I have to pretend to be excited about... That sounds pretty spoiled, doesn’t it?”

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “You’re a woman who knows what she wants, nothing wrong with that.” You smiled, glad he understand you weren’t an ungrateful brat.

The two of you walked in silence for a little bit before Harry spoke again. “How’d you get into modeling?”

“Well, it started when I was young. I was obsessed with America’s Next Top Model. I would watch it religiously and try to practice along with them. I would even steal my moms heels and practice my runway walk up and down the halls of our house,” you laughed, recalling how you tripped and clunked around in the shoes that were far to big for you.

Harry joined in your laughter, “I would have liked to see that.”

“Oh no you wouldn’t, I was an absolute mess,” you told him, before going on, “As I got older, I started getting more serious about it. Going out on nights and weekends to get jobs. I fell in love with it, I always thought photography was an art form and with modeling I got to be a part of that art... Maybe that’s kind of silly.” You blushed despite yourself. You never really talked about modeling with anyone, because no one ever really seemed to care.

“No, not at all, you’re completely right,” Harry agreed, “You’re an artist just as much as I am.”

“Well I wouldn’t go that far,” you replied.

“I’m serious,” Harry replied, “People don’t realize how hard it is. Not just anyone can get in front of a camera and produce the right emotions for a great picture. It’s really beautiful, actually.”

“I’m glad someone thinks so,” you mumbled, wishing Jason thought as highly of modeling as Harry did.

“Do the people in your life not support it?” Harry asked.

“You could say that again,” you huffed, “Jason - my boyfriend - he thinks it’s stupid and a waste of time. He always says it’s a dead end job and I’ll eventually have to stop because of my age and then I’ll have nothing to show for the years I spent trying to live out a fantasy - his words not mine.”

“That’s terrible,” Harry scowled.

You shrugged. “It’s whatever. He’s great with everything else, I just wish he cared about what means so much to me, or could at least pretend to care.”

“It’s unfortunate he doesn’t, he’s missing out,” Harry stated. You nodded and the two of you fell into silence again as you walked. You were supposed to look happy, for any potential pictures being taken, but thinking about Jason’s lack of support for your choices always put you in a mood.

As you walked, you approached a stand selling snacks and the smell of fresh popcorn filled the air. You suddenly realized you were hungry.

“That smells great, doesn’t it?” you asked, changing the subject.

“It does, I think we should see if it tastes as good as it smell,” Harry replied, stopping to get online.

“Should we get one to share, or one for each of us?” you asked. Snacks weren’t discussed on the phone call briefing.

“They’d probably say one for each of us, which is why I’m only getting us one to share,” Harry smirked.

“Oh what a rebel,” you teased, “I may have to tell on you.”

“Won’t have to,” Harry replied, stepping forward as the line moved, “They’ve got people watching us.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup,” Harry replied. He paused turning to the vendor to ask for a large popcorn before continuing, “Don’t bother trying to figure out who it is. They’ll look like anyone else, but they’re hired by my management to make sure we are following the rules.”

Despite saying not to bother, you looked around at the people in the area - there were people walking dogs, children playing, couples walking, and elderly man reading the paper. Suddenly the all seemed suspicious. “Creepy,” you shuttered.

Harry shrugged, taking the popcorn and handing the guy a twenty, telling him to keep the change. “You get used to it.”

You scooped up a handful of popcorn, savoring the warm buttery flavor. “You know, usually I’d offer to pay for half - equality and shit - but considering one of us makes millions, I think it’s okay to let you take the hit for the popcorn,” you joked.

“Sure, sure,” Harry smirked, tossing some popcorn into his mouth. You rolled your eyes and laughed, chucking some kernels in his direction.

For the rest of the time with Harry, you had to admit you actually had some fun. You were surprised you managed to walk around with one of the biggest stars in the world and only be stopped once. The observant fan was nice, though she eyed you suspiciously. She didn’t ask for your name, and for that you were glad. You hoped you could remain Harry’s nameless fling for as long as possible, to keep your personal life as uncomplicated as possible.

When your date ended, you felt much different than you did the first time around. You never would have expected to enjoy spending an hour with Harry Styles, yet here you were laughing in the backseat as Fred took the both of you back to your respective homes. As you said goodbye to Harry, part of you, a small part that you wanted to ignore, was looking forward to seeing him again.

Thank you for the positive feedback on Part 1! I hope you enjoy part 2 and I will be working on getting part 3 up as soon as I can! xx

[vikingpoteto]

Finally, this is my gift for @chisakai​! Thank you @boku-no-secret-santa​ for hosting this exchange!

Title: Routine Break Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Yaoyorozu Momo Word count: 2.451 Rating: G Tag: Wrong number AU Summary:  Momo was NOT expecting that kind of call.

Momo turns the lights off and stays where she is until her eyes get used to the darkness.

It doesn’t take long. The curtains are open and city lights still invade her apartment through the wide glass windows. She stares at her pristine furniture and listens. She can barely hear the car honking so many floors beneath, the sounds of life in the city. The feeling of loneliness is a tad overwhelming.

The girl shakes her head vehemently. This is what she wished for. A place of her own, somewhere small and cozy where she could be at ease after an agitated day at work. She tells herself that she’s just getting used to her new apartment, and therefore it feels odd. She refuses to think about how the empty feeling is oddly similar to what she felt when she lived at her parents’ mansion and walks resolutely to her room.

Perhaps she should adopt a cat. That would help her with the transition from a mansion filled to the brim with working staff to a small apartment of her own.

Momo lets out a defeated sigh. Not a good idea. She spends most of her day in the laboratory working, so it would be cruel to adopt any pet, even one as independent as a cat. She is many things, but irresponsible is not one of them.

In her room, the only source of light is her phone screen. Momo doesn’t bother turning on any lights and blindly dives into her bed without checking her messages. She can guess the contents without looking anyway. There must be at least one short, strictly professional message from her newest lab partner, a short-tempered guy that can be very rude personally, but whose work ethics are unquestionable. He often texts Momo to report results of their joint experiment. There should also be another from her other lab partner, a cheerful woman that flirts with Momo – and everyone in the lab, really – whenever she can. She isn’t working on anything with Momo, particularly, but she likes to send nice texts. There should be something from her dad’s secretary too, asking her whether she has everything she needs. Probably something from Kyouka letting her know that this is her last chance to go to the amazing party her boyfriend is DJing for, whatever that means.

“You need to let go, Momo,” Kyouka often tells her. “Live a little.”

“There’s nothing to let go. I’m living,” Momo always replies.

“You’re hiding,” Kyouka corrects. “All you ever do is work and hide from everything. I know stepping up to your parents and telling them you didn’t want to live with them anymore was big step and all, but please don’t go back to being stagnant.”

“I’m not being stagnant,” Momo defends herself with a pout.

“Maybe not professionally,” Kyouka concedes. “God, never. You’re too smart and too in love with your profession for that. But life isn’t only about work, Momo. You’re a young, hot woman. Go out. Make friends. Make out with cute people. I worry about you being lonely.”

That usually leads to Momo brushing it off with half-baked excuses, that she doesn’t feel lonely and there’s no need to worry about her. Kyouka eyes her skeptically and lets her off the hook for a while, but Momo’s excuses are running thin.

And she’s not lonely. She’s just… Well, okay, maybe she’s a little lonely. But she doesn’t exactly like Kyouka’s way of meeting new friends – going to rock shows and sharing a beer with whoever screams the loudest to her favorite lyrics – or her parents’ – going to cocktail parties and laughing at the current events of some rich guy’s personal life – so Momo is out of options. How does one socialize, anyway? Should she download a dating app? Go to libraries and sit down until someone talk to her? The books she read in her childhood and teenage years prepared her to be swept off her feet by some bigger force and taken to a magic academy of superheroes where she’d be the chosen one or something like that. No one warned her that she’d have to go out and actually form connections with people.

Her phone buzzing shakes her awake from her deep thoughts. Momo purses her lips. It’s probably Kyouka demanding that she gets out of bed and puts on her tightest jeans so they can go to whatever party she has in mind. Momo considers ignoring the call, pretending she’s already asleep.

That would be rude, however, and Momo is nothing if not polite. With a sigh, she closes her eyes and braces herself for the worst as she reaches for the phone.

She has barely pressed the phone to her ear when a masculine voice – definitely not Kyouka’s – blurts:

“So, remember the thing you told us not to do? We… Well, we kind of did it and now Midoriya’s in the ER.”

“What?” Momo asks, with a frown.

“Don’t worry, he’s- mostly fine. I know last time the doctor told us Midoriya couldn’t afford any more broken bones for the rest of his life, but apparently this time it’s just a sprained wrist, so he should be fine.”

Momo doesn’t know who Midoriya is, but she’s worried that he has broken his bones so often the doctor had to warn him not to do it again.

“Now, I know you told us to try to bake anything while drunk, but Midoriya really wanted to make cookies? I don’t know, it seemed really important to him. He wouldn’t stop telling me that I was supposed to give the cookies to that pretty girl from the coffee store? You know, that one with the dark hair that’s always there on my lunch break? Anyway things went wrong.”

Momo hears herself whispering, “how do you mess up making cookies that bad?”

There’s a pause. After a moment, the man lets out a sigh. “I might have overdone it with the stove. We might or might not have burned all the cookies and the fire alarm went off. There was a lot of smoke, so we tried saving what he could from the tray and then we had to leave and then the stairs…”

The man sounds so defeated Momo feels sympathy for him. Although she doesn’t know what he looks like, she imagines him and his friend Midoriya drunkenly carrying a bunch of burned cookies down the stairs. The mental image is… cute. Momo lets out a small chuckle.

On the other side of the line, the man takes a pause.

“You… you’re not mad?”

Right. This call wasn’t meant for her on the first place.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says. “I should have interrupted you sooner, but I got invested in your cookie story. I believe you got the wrong number.”

There is another moment of silence. Finally, the man breaks it:

“So… This is not Uraraka Ochako?”

“Until last time I checked, no.”

There is another small pause in which Yaoyorozu considers the best way of apologizing. What can she say? She got too invested in this madness to interrupt.

“For what is worth, I think it’s sweet that when you get drunk you and your friend try to bake cookies for your crush. Most people make worse decisions when inebriated.”

She doesn’t want to throw Kyouka’s friends under the bus, but one of them tried to get them into graffitiing some public buildings after a few drinks on the last time Momo went out with them, which completely horrified her. She lectured Kyouka for hours on the following day about the kind of company she got herself in those outings and how she was better than that. Although Momo admired all forms of art, street art included, she would never condone vandalism.

However, she probably wouldn’t mind hanging out with drunk bakers that much.

“Most drunk people don’t set off fire alarms, though. Or… at least I think they don’t. I don’t know. I’m inclined to believe the fire had more to do with me than with the alcohol.”

“Oh? How come?”

“I don’t know,” the man says and Yaoyorozu imagines him shrugging. “Things tend to catch on fire when I’m around. It happened in fifth grade in chemistry. I once set fire to the curtains in my college dorms when I was trying to heat up the pizza? Maybe I’m curs… Oh.”

“What is it?”

“I was also there on the first time Midoriya broke his hand. And when Iida fractured his thumb. Does that mean I’m twice as cursed? When I’m around, things catch on fire and hands are broken.”

Momo can’t help it. She starts laughing. She doesn’t want to sound mean, but she feels the strange urge to wrap this cursed, drunk man between her arms and tell him it’s not his fault.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to- I don’t think you’re cursed, uh…”

“Shouto.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh… I’m sorry. You sounded liked you wanted to add a name to the end of that sentence, so I just- That’s my name.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, that was weird, I-”

“I’m Momo.” What is she doing? “And I think you should talk to the girl from the coffeeshop, with cookies or not, Shouto-san.”

“You think?”

An easy smile appears on her lips, a smile that is usually reserved for Kyouka or any of her closest friend – that is, if she had any besides Kyouka and her boyfriend, that ended up being Momo’s friend by association – because talking to Shouto is easy. He might be a drunk person that almost burned down a building while trying to bake cookies and he’s waiting for his friend to come out of ER, but he sounds like a sweet guy.

“But of course,” she says enthusiastically. “And other people happen to set off fire alarms from times to times.”

Without thinking, she started telling him about something that happened to her during her freshman year in high school. Back then, she had just met Kyouka, her first actual close friend after being educated at home through her entire life. On Valentine’s day, she decided to make Kyouka a really great friendship cake, despite never having baked anything in her life. She got lectured by the teacher for improper use of the dorms kitchen and had to replace the stove she virtually destroyed while attempting to melt the chocolate.

After that, Shouto sounds a little more excited when he tells her in detail about the small fire he caused at his father’s workplace, although Shouto admits that this one was a bit intentional. Apparently he had tried to get rid of a bunch of papers to spite his father, but lost control of it and the office’s desk ended up burned to a crisp. Momo then recalls when Kyouka’s boyfriend connected the wrong wire to his sound system and caused short-circuit that resulted in a small explosion in the middle of the club he worked. To this day, they aren’t completely sure how he managed to do that, but the party guests assumed the noise they heard and the flickering lights (and failing speakers) were part of the performance. In the end, everything worked out.

They keep going back and forth, exchanging stories about their friends. Momo tells Shouto about Kyouka’s lovely strong personality that got the two of them into trouble more times than she can count. Shouto confides in her about Midoriya, a prone-to-accidents sweet boy about whom Shouto cares deeply.

She gets so entertained she doesn’t realize they’ve been talking for a lot longer than you usually would to a stranger.

“And the idea of giving the cookies to the coffee shop girl was his?”

“Yes. He’s been trying to convince me to talk to her, but I don’t know how,” Shouto admits.

“If you’re the kind of person that would give her cookies, I’m sure she’ll love to meet you. I know I would.”

She doesn’t know why she says that. It almost sounds as though… she’s flirting with him. And she’s not! God, no. She’s 100% rooting for him and his coffeeshop crush.

“Are you sure? Meeting me might mean you get your hand crushed and something will burn.”

“And who guarantees it won’t be worth the risk?”

Holy mother, she’s flirting. She hasn’t flirted with anyone in years – Kyouka particularly likes to bother her about not even recognizing when people attempt to flirt with her. She would have an aneurysm if she heard Momo actively attempting to seduce a drunk cookie-baking stranger.

“That’s- that’s nice of you, Momo,” Shouto says in a soft, warm voice.

The kind of voice of someone that isn’t too used to people saying nice things to him. Momo would offer him to bake the cookies herself if she wasn’t such a disaster in the kitchen.

“Listen, I- oh. Midoriya is back. And I didn’t call Uraraka to come get us.”

“Oh my!” Momo gasps. “I’m so sorry, Shouto-san, I distracted you. Please, don’t let me stop you and go back to your friend. You two must be in dire need of some rest.”

“Don’t apologize, I was the one that called you and kept talking. After everything that’s happened, this… this has been nice.”

“Then I’m glad you called the wrong number,” she says softly.

“I am, too.”

The two of them stay silent for a moment. Momo is aware that one of them is supposed to end the call at any minute now. Midoriya is probably giving his friend a puzzled look, wondering who he is talking to. Neither Momo nor Shouto hangs up.

“So… Would it be okay if I called you to let you know how it went? With, hm, the coffeeshop girl?”

Something warm pools within Momo’s chest and a soft smile stretches her lips. “I would like that very much, actually.”

“Good. Good, I- Have a good night.”

“You too.”

After that, he hangs up.

In the dark, Momo stares at her ceiling and smiles a little. For whatever reason, the quietness of the apartment seems less oppressing. Perhaps Momo did need to make some new friends, but not in any of the ways she had been attempting so far. What she truly needed was a break of routine, not a complete fresh start. In fact, Shouto’s story makes her think of the handsome young man that has caught her attention a couple of times when she goes to the coffee store across the street from her work. Maybe she’ll try to talk to him next time they meet.

Maybe she’ll even bring him some cookies.

It ought to be a nice change.

[tea-and-cardigans]

Movie Night - Bughead College AU - Part 2

Hey Guys,

Sorry it has been so so long since I have posted anything but unfortunately adulting (and a super flu) got in the way and then there was a hit of writing self doubt and writing block. But here is the second and final part to Movie Night.

I also almost have the next chapter of What Fools We Mortals Be finished and am just working out some kinks and ideas with my Beta.

I always get so stressed with my fics that aren’t one shots as I get so worried that readers will be disappointed with the conclusion or next part which is the reason I sometimes get stuck on my WIPs.

Anyway I hope you guys enjoy and always sorry to mobile users for the keep reading cut.

Summary:

Betty is sick of the substandard movies that are chosen to play at the makeshift college ‘drive in’ she decides she has had enough and on her mission to correct this injustice bumps into a beanie wearing student who is just as outraged.

Based on the following prompt:

You’re the only other one who voted for my favorite movie on movie night so do you just want to watch it in my room au

Part One.

Nolan and Tarantino

Veronica was excited for her. As soon as she told her she would not be in their dorm room tonight because she was going to a boy’s room the squeal that Veronica had emitted had very near ruptured her eardrums.

“I knew you had it in you B.” Veronica wrapped her arm around her shoulder like a proud mamma bird finally seeing her baby bird spread her wings and embrace the full college experience. “Sooo what’s his name?”

“Jughead.” Veronica did a double take, her head cocked slightly to the side as if she may have misheard her.

“Jughead?”

“Yeah I think it might be a nickname.” Betty mused while Veronica’s eyes widened in realization.

“Wait a second Archie’s roommate has a weird name, I thought it was Juicebox, but maybe it was Jughead.” Veronica clapped her hands together in delight. “You are going out with Archie’s roommate.” Her voice had now taken on a sing song quality and Betty could see the cogs turning in her head processing all this information at once, probably forming plans for double dates and who knows what else.

“I’m just going over to watch a movie, it’s not a date.” Veronica sighed heavily, before taking Betty’s hand and leading her over to her bed encouraging her to sit beside her. “It’s not-” Veronica silenced Betty’s protests placing a finger up to her mouth.

“It’s a date Betty,” she stated simply, as Betty’s eyes widened. She knew it was a date, or was that just some wishful thinking on her part. He was interested in movies, she was interested in movies. People of the opposite gender can watch movies together alone in a college dorm room and not have any romantic feelings towards each other. Can’t they? “You are going to be alone in his dorm room, probably on his bed, his laptop between the two of you, an arm around your shoulder.” Betty imagined the scene in her head. She imagined them both reaching for the popcorn at the same time, their hands brushing accidently against each other, a shared laugh before their eyes would meet each other’s gaze. She shook her head trying to wipe the images from her mind. No it was just watching a movie.

“He chose The Lobster for drive in movie, he puts up a choice each month.”

“The unpopular choice.” Veronica reminded her.

“Maybe but it’s always the one I would choose.” Betty was happy to have someone who could appreciate good cinema as much as she loved Veronica her taste in movies sucked.

“Well B, what are you going to wear for your non-date date.” Betty pulled her bottom lip with her teeth. She hadn’t even thought about it yet. She wanted to look nice but not too nice, not like she had spent hours agonising over what she was going to wear for the night, even though she had a feeling that that was exactly what she was about to do at Veronica’s insistence.

Betty shifted nervously in front of his dorm room door, she could faintly hear music playing inside his room. It was something she didn’t recognise but it sounded pleasant to her ears. She shifted one of the two large shopping bags of snacks that she had brought for the evening into one hand while she raised the other to knock on his door.

The door opened almost immediately and she noted that he was still wearing the crown beanie that he had been earlier. Apparently that was part of his permanent wardrobe or so Veronica had informed her after sending several inquisitive texts to Archie. And yes, Jughead was in fact a nickname, but Archie wouldn’t tell her his real name through fear of Jughead’s retribution.

“Hey.” He opened the door wider for her so she could enter brushing past him.

“Where can I put these?” She held up the two rather large bags of snacks that she had brought with her. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I just brought some of my faves and the classics.” She noticed him lick his lips as he eyed the bags and he pointed towards what she assumed was the desk on his side of the small dorm room.

“Over there.” She moved towards the desk placing the heavy bags down and turned around to fully take in the room. It was not as messy as she had imagined a room shared by two teenage boys may be, but she guessed that he had done some tidying up as well. The two of them looked at each other awkwardly for a while, both of them with their hands in their pockets, before glancing around the room. “Would you like something to drink?” Jughead asked her breaking the silence.

“Sure.” He moved over to the bar fridge located at the end of his bed and surveyed it’s contents.

“I’ve got Coke and Beer.” Betty knew the safe option was a coke. Best she keep a clear head. She had been drunk once in her life, one of her first nights on campus and it had not been a pretty picture. But one beer couldn’t hurt.

“Beer,” she announced confidently, straightening her posture a little at her decision. He pulled out two beers, twisting the tops off both using the bottom of his t-shirt and handing one to her. He held his out for her to clink her bottle into, almost like a little cheers before they endeavored on their film watching journey.

“You can sit on the bed.” He motioned towards the single bed on one side of the room. “Or I have the desk chair if that would be more comfortable,” he added quickly.

“Bed’s fine,” she answered as she jumped onto the single bed, her back resting against the pillow that had been placed against the wall, stretching her legs out in front of her. He picked up the laptop from his desk along with the desk chair. Placing the laptop on the chair in front of the bed, he moved again to Archie’s desk to get his desk chair and placed it in front of the bed before sitting on it. Betty watched him carefully as he leant forward to get the movie playing on the laptop.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m getting the movie started.” He looked at her quizzically before he returned to the task at hand.

“No I mean why are you sitting there. There’s plenty of room up here.” She patted the empty space next to her.

“I just thought you might -”

“Grab the snacks and get up here.” Betty was surprised by the strength of her own words. “Please.” she added to try and soften her request. He quickly pressed play on the video and grabbed both bags before hopping onto the bed next to her, still placing some space between the two of them. She handed him one of the pillows that was next to her and he placed it behind his back before opening one of the bags.

“What do you want?” He whispered as if they were in a cinema afraid of ruining the viewing experience of others.

“The Red Vines.” She turned towards him as he handed her the packet. She noticed him looking through the bag hesitating on making his own choice. “Take whatever you want,” she whispered to him before turning her attention immediately back to the screen in front of her as the words she had just used wash over her and she mentally kicked herself. He didn’t seem to notice, or he was just as embarrassed as she was as he pulled out a packet of Milk Duds and faced the screen as well.

They were both fully engrossed in the movie, laughing together at the appropriate parts and she was glad that he shared her dark sense of humor. When she had tried to get Veronica to watch the movie she had asked her to turn it off not even half way into the movie. Instead they put on a romantic comedy, not that Betty minded them once in awhile but it was nice to have someone who could understand her love for dark comedy.

“What animal do you think you would want to be turned into?” Betty whispered as she turned to Jughead waiting for his answer while she watched the movie from the corner of her eye.

“I think I would be a cat.” She waited for him to elaborate further. “Well they’re independent, survivors and it would good to always be able to land on your feet.” He threw a milk dud up into the air before catching it in his mouth. She gave a little clap at his achievement. “You?”

“A hawk.” He looked at her surprised at her choice. “Well I would want to be able to fly so I would want to choose a bird, but I also don’t want to be at the bottom of the food chain and be one of the small animals getting eaten by a bigger animal. So a hawk.” She took the packet of milk duds from him and tried to toss one into her mouth, but missed by quite a distance. “It’s the beer.”

“No I just think you aren’t very good at that,” he quipped, throwing another one up for himself and catching it in his mouth easily. Betty never one to be outdone took the packet from him again and tossed another up into the air, too high and off centre and it bounced off her forehead. The impact stunned her for a moment and his laughter filled the room. She rubbed her forehead in embarrassment as she watched him laugh. The way his nose and eyes wrinkled and he looked completely uninhibited. She couldn’t help herself and soon found herself laughing along with him.  

Betty took a deep sigh as the movie cut to black. She eyed the packets of open half eaten sweets that they had managed to work through during the movie. It was though Jughead was determined to try some of everything always offering her some first. There were also the 4 empty beer bottles that they had polished off during the movie on his night stand. She could feel the slight heat across her cheeks and neck a side effect of the alcohol and the enclosed space no doubt.

“Okay important question.” Betty sat straighter on the bed at the seriousness of his tone. “And the very future of our friendship depends on your answer.” A smirk crossing his face told her that he probably would let her get away with an incorrect answer. “Favourite director?” She sighed heavily at this collapsing onto her side in dramatics as she groaned.

“Don’t make me choose.”

“You have to.” He insisted leaning his body to the side to catch her eyes. Betty sighed in defeat and pulled herself upright again, thinking carefully about his question.

“Hmmm.” She was tapping her finger on her chin as she ran through a series of possible answers she had favourites for each genre, for each decade of film, how could she possibly choose just one out of so many. He watched her expectantly as she continued to think. She went to answer before pausing again, considering her answer so carefully. “Christopher Nolan.”

“Hmm.” He said nodding his expression giving nothing away about her choice.

“Hmm?” she responded, her eyes urging for him to elaborate further, to tell her his own thoughts rather than just making a sound in response.

“I just wouldn’t have guessed, thought you might go for a classic like Speilberg, you seem like a classic kind of girl.” She wasn’t sure how to take his statement, should she be offended that he thought she liked older more traditional things, did he think that she would be so predictable and hence maybe even boring.

“What’s yours?” she asked.

“Tarantino.” She let out a short laugh in response.

“Of course.” she rolled her eyes.

“What do you mean? Of course.” Jughead Jones did not like to be predictable he prided himself as not being one of the herd.

“Just you know, dark, tortured, mysterious it figures you would like Tarantino.” She shrugged her shoulders reaching over him for the unopened packet of M&Ms, meeting his eyes as she took a handful, a look of victory in her eyes. He sighed. Maybe he was a little predictable sometimes. “What now?” She said finishing her mouthful of candy and eyeing him carefully.

“Well we could watch another movie.” He suggested, she nodded eagerly and he found himself smiling at her. It felt so easy between the two of them. He knew he should feel nervous a pretty girl like Betty Cooper alone with him in his dorm room. Archie had given him a wolf whistle when he had let him know that a girl would be over tonight, before Jughead had insisted that it wasn’t like that.

If Betty’s love life had been uneventful up to and including college, Jughead’s had been non-existent. He wasn’t exactly what girls had gone for in highschool he kept to himself. Attended classes and stayed on the outer fringe as much as he could. Not that he ever went completely unnoticed, the jocks it seemed had a far reaching sonar for those who wished to go unnoticed. He had been bullied, sure, but he had survived. Even had managed to fight back on occasion but at the end of the day he was still that scrawny weirdo from the wrong side of the tracks.

College he had imagined would be much the same. He would attend his classes, stay on the fringe. He had always been more of an observer than an active participant. Then he had been roomed with Archie Andrews. Jughead could practically smell the Jock coming off of him as soon as he entered the room. He had already been formulating the contents of his request to transfer rooms form in his head, when Archie had introduced himself, holding out a hand for him to shake. Jughead had taken it cautiously always waiting for the punch that was coming masked by kindness. But it never came. Archie was a decent guy, still a jock, but decent and despite himself they became friends.

“Should I make some popcorn?” Her voice broke into his thoughts and he saw that she had moved off the bed a packet of microwave popcorn in her hand as she stood next to the microwave.

“Sure. I’ll choose a movie. Any requests?”

“Action. After that film I need to see some things getting epically destroyed.” She winked at him and he felt his stomach drop. He had felt the same feeling when she had asked him to take anything he wanted and several images had crossed his mind, while he tried to keep his face passive.

He carefully looked through the list of films before smiling to himself. “Batman Begins?” he asked already having a pretty good idea of what the answer would be.

“Now I know you're just trying to get in my good books. Choosing a Nolan film.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m just trying to be a good host.”

“Well you are being an excellent host.” The microwave beeped and he moved to his cupboard to grab a bowl holding it in front of her for her to empty the freshly popped popcorn into. The aroma filling the air. He grabbed two drinks from the fridge, pressed play on his laptop and sat back down on his bed. She soon joined him. He noticed that she sat herself a little closer this time placing the bowl in between them. He tried to concentrate on the film in front of him but found himself distracted.

Betty seemed more engrossed in the film than he was. He could occasionally see her mouth the words and he wondered how many times she had seen this one.

His hand brushed up against her knee and she froze. He was reaching for the bowl of popcorn between them and had misjudged where it was. He could see her body tense up at the contact and he scolded his own clumsiness.

“Sorry,” he mumbled under his breath.

“It’s okay.” He felt her hand rest over his own before he was able to draw it away from it’s current location. He shot a questioning look in her direction, her eyes were still focused on the screen but he could feel her thumb tracing the back of his hand. He felt as though he could learn to  lose himself in those little touches. He had lost complete interest in the film, which really had been used as a way to keep her there for a little bit longer, not wanting the night to end just yet. He watched the way the light played across her face, the pale blue light highlighting her face, the small tug of a smile in the corner of her lips. And now he knew he was doomed as his attention had been drawn to her lips. He imagined how they would feel against his own. How he would trace the curve of her neck with his thumb hoping that she would keen into his touch. He shifted uncomfortably and when his leg brushed up against hers she turned to face him, meeting his gaze immediately.

There was a moment’s hesitation as he felt that he had been caught staring at her, before she shifted towards him and her lips brushed against his. Soft. Her lips were impossibly soft. She pulled back and he stopped her with his hand at the back of her neck, pulling her back again so that his lips could have another taste. He felt her lips responding in kind to his insistent lips returning his kiss with just as much force.

His thumb traced her collarbone, travelling up her neck to cup her face as his lips moved to her neck, feeling her move her body against him as the bowl was knocked to the floor in her eagerness to feel closer to him. Her hand rested on his chest as his hand dropped to her waist holding her against his body as his lips returned to hers, running his tongue over the seam of her lips begging for permission. She relented and sighed into his mouth as he deepened the kiss and his grip on her waist tightened in response.

She pulled back to examine his face, her fingers running over his features. The ones that she has been admiring all night, sneaking glances when he wasn’t looking. Watching the shifting light from the screen move across his face, highlighting his cheekbones just as she had imagined.

“That was nice,” she whispered breaking the silence between them.

He placed a hand over his heart in mock hurt, “Just nice?”

“More than nice,” she corrected as she reached over to lace his hand in hers. “You know we should do this every month your movie loses.”

“That would be every month then.” He wrapped his arm around her tighter as she leant up against his chest.

“It’s a date.”

[caramel-and-pine]

12 - Friends and Emotions

Max is leaving David’s house in the morning, after a good night’s sleep, and a big mug of black coffee.

“Can I ask something before you leave?” David asks at the door, and Max only nods in response. “Will you save my number and call me sometimes? Add me on Whatsapp or something like this so we can actually keep in touch?”

“I’m not really a fan of phone calls,” Max says but he reaches for his phone and unlocks it before giving it to David. “But if you swear not to send me lame good morning images we can talk on Whatsapp.”

David smiles as he enters his contact on Max’s phone, when he gives it back he makes the Camp Campbell salute. “I swear not to send lame good morning images!”

“You’re unbelievable,” Max says fondly and he leans up to give him a quick kiss. David melts a little. “I must go now, Christine said she wanted to discuss the new outfits and performances for the club today.”

“What is wrong with the performance and outfits you have now?”

“Nothing really, but she likes to create and Sid always gives her free reign of the ‘artistic direction’ of the club.” Max shrugs and smiles anyway. “Well, she enjoys it so it is okay to me.”

“Tell her I said hi, and that I’m curious about the new performance.”

Max grins and raises his eyebrows suggestively. “Do you want to see me dancing again, David?” To emphasize his point Max crudely grabs at his own crotch making an overly dramatic face.

A deep blush overtakes David’s face and he splutters a little before speaking.

“You are both very good performers, I am curious. That’s all!”

“Well, If I know Christine, and I do, she must have everything set up for next week. You should show up next weekend to check it.” Max’s demeanor is suddenly coy as if he isn’t sure David will accept his invitation.

“Oh, I will!” David says all too enthusiastic. “But just to make sure I don’t forget or anything, you should message me some time to remind me.”

“Loser,” Max says softly but he smiles as David leans down to kiss his cheek. “I really must go now…”

“Okay, I have some work to do too and I don’t want to keep you here too long. Don’t want to make Christine wait for you,” David says with a pleasant smile. “Take care, okay? And send me a message when you get home so I know you’re safe.”

Max is half annoyed, half endeared by David’s motherly behavior. “Yeah, mommy, don’t fret,” he says without much heat. “I’ll be careful,” he adds when he sees David’s smile turning into a little frown.

David is still pouting a little bit but Max quickly fixes it by kissing him, sweet and brief, before stepping out of the house. When Max reaches the gate he looks back and David is still at the threshold watching him with a silly smile on his face. Max waves him goodbye and David’s smile goes bigger as he waves back.

Max’s heart is full of fluttery feelings and he bursts into tiny fits of giggles as he remembers the previous day. He attracts a lot of attention on the bus home, but most people just look at him fondly - one old woman sighs dreamily once she sees his blushing and giggling. When he gets off the bus his ears are red with a strange sort of embarrassment.

When he arrives home he sees that Christine has taken the entire table in the kitchen as her workplace. There are at least three sketchpads, her laptop opened on a youtube video, and a box full of art supplies Max has absolutely no hope of ever learning the name and use for. She is deeply focused on the video but when she notices his presence she pauses it and practically tackles him as she makes a million questions in under thirty seconds.

“My god, Christine, don’t you breathe?” Max extricates himself from her clutches and makes it to the sink where he drinks some water.

“You’ve been keeping me in the dark on purpose, Max!” Christine whines and pouts as she sits back on the chair. “Seriously, I am so curious!”

“I know you are, let me enjoy torturing you a little longer,” Max says smugly which just makes Christine make pitiful little noises.

“Max, please, I am serious,” suddenly, her behavior turns serious and she looks at him with a worried expression. “Was he nice?”

“The nicest,” Max says as he takes a seat in front of her. “I mean it, Chris, he was absolutely… perfect?”

Christine raises her eyebrow slightly but the look on Max’s face is so soft when he speaks it placates her worries efficiently. She rests her chin on her palm as she studies him.

“He cut your hair,” she observes and Max makes a show of pointing to his shaved head.

“He cut my hair! And we watched movies together on the couch and he was so into the cuddling and watching TV he never realized I sat in front of him and not by his side because I was hard for him the whole evening…”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Max rubs his neck, a little self-conscious. “Can you believe it? And when he finally got hard he was so fucking cute! We were back at his room and he was still asking if I wanted it and he kept saying how good it was. But it wasn’t gross or condescending, it was just spontaneous, you know?”

“Max, you are so very much in fucking love,” Christine says, at last, a smile on her disbelieving face. “I’ve never seen you talking like this about anyone else before.”

Max doesn’t reply immediately. Is he in love with David? Surely he does feel something but he can’t call it love. Not yet. David has shown him much more respect, care and attention than he’d ever received in his life and maybe that’s why he doesn’t know what to do. He has never truly known affection, how can he properly gauge the situation when his referential is null?

“Do you really think I’m in love with him?” He asks in a small voice. Christine holds his hand across the table and squeezes it lightly.

“I’m sorry, Max, I shouldn’t have said it,” she says in a very serious voice. “You were very cute talking about him, and you looked very happy on the selfie you sent me yesterday but I have no right to label your feelings. David seems like a very nice guy but your feelings are your own and you have as much time as you need to figure them out. I’ll be here for you if you need but the conclusion is only yours to make.”

“He is very nice,” Max says defeatedly.

“He is.”

“I have to text him.”

“You do?”

“He asked me to text him when I get home,” Max picks his phone with his right hand, the left still holding Christine’s hand as if taking strength from her. “He told me to take care.”

“Isn’t it a little possessive?” Christine furrows her brows as Max searches for David’s contact on his phone. He smiles a little and turns the screen to her - the contact is saved as David *pine tree emoji*.

“I don’t think so, when he asked he had a genuinely worried look on his face,” Max types a short message and places the phone, screen down, on the table. “I think he still blames himself for losing me when I was a child, all that camp thing I talked about the other day, remember?”

“Oh, yes, when you were kidnapped by your own mother.”

“It sounds unnecessarily ridiculous when you say it like this, Christine,” Max frowns and Chris laughs.

“Talking about your mother, does Hannah know about him?”

“Not yet,” Max says pensively. “I’ve been meaning to tell her but I don’t know what to say.” Max makes an imaginary phone with his hand and talks on it with a nasal voice, “Hi Honeybear, there is this guy who took care of me for a while when I was a kid and now we’re maybe dating and I’d like you to meet him because he is amazing but the nuns would probably say we’ll both burn in hell.”

“Now who is making things unnecessarily ridiculous?”

Max groans and deflates. “I am sorry. I want Hannah to know about him but until I figure out what I feel for him I think it would be best to keep it to myself.”

Christine pats his shoulder sympathetically. “Take your time, darling. I am sure David can wait; and so can Hannah.”

Silence falls over them for a moment, both immersed in thoughts until Max suddenly stands up and starts to rummage around the kitchen cabinets.

“I’ll make lunch today,” he says, suddenly full of energy. “How was work yesterday, anyway?”

“The usual,” Chris says, turning her attention back to her sketchpads. “Guess who was there asking for you?”

Max groans. “Sam?”

“Ding ding ding! Right answer.”

“And what did you tell him when he figured out I wasn’t there?”

“Well, I’d have said you were home with a terrible virulent sickness that would make you untouchable for the rest of your life,” Christine says dutifully and Max thanks her. “Unfortunately, Ivan was there and he told him the truth.”

“Damn you, Ivan,” Max mutters with a frown. “And how did he react?”

“As well as you can imagine,” she says darkly. “He literally asked for the other client’s number so he could call and ask what time you’d be free and where he could pick you up.”

“Man, that guy is a lost cause,” Max shakes his head. “He acts all ‘oh look how manly I am’ and then he cries when he takes it up the ass!”

Chris snorts a little but she quickly goes back to a more sober demeanor.

“Ivan managed to calm him down yesterday and he left without incident but I swear I was a bit scared,” a cold shiver runs down Christine’s spine at the memory. “I hope he and David never meet.”

The same cold drips down Max’s back. “Oh, please, no!”

***

From: Gwen Hi David! Are you free tonight?

To: Gwen Yes *smiley emoji* Do you want to go out? We could go somewhere new.

From: Gwen Nah, I don’t want to go out *weary face emoji*

From: Gwen How about dinner in your place? I can drop by the supermarket after work pick wine and cake and then go to yours

To: Gwen Merlot and dark forest?

From: Gwen Of course

To: Gwen 8pm?

From: Gwen Deal

David smiles at his phone, it’s been a while since he and Gwen got to hang out together. Actually, the last time he’d seen her in person was when she took him to The Fruit Bowl. After that, they’ve only texted and talked a bit on the phone. Once again the urge to tell her about Max starts to itch but he steels himself and starts to make a mental list of topics of conversation that would lead away from dangerous subjects, like the bar.

It isn’t difficult to get a long list, he and Gwen still have a lot in common despite the different paths they’ve taken in life. They rarely ever talk about Camp Campbell, but they have plenty to talk about their jobs, their friends, Gwen’s pet snake, David’s travels… The list goes on and on.

It’s barely past noon when Gwen sends the first message, so David has a lot of time to tidy up the house and cook. David enjoys cooking despite knowing only three recipes, luckily Gwen likes all three of them. Since she offered to bring wine he decided to make salmon with vegetables, a good combination according to the fancy site he and Gwen liked to scroll through when they were still dating.

David has a meeting with an editor of a magazine in a few days so he works on his portfolio until about three in the afternoon. After some deliberation, he adds two of Max’s photos to the file alongside with many landscapes and some product images he produced in the studio earlier in the week. With a satisfied groan, David finally turns off his computer and goes downstairs to prepare for the dinner.

Being a naturally organized person has its perks. Tidying the house takes him very little time, some sweeping in the living room and a little cleaning product on the floor of the kitchen and he is done. He turns his attention to the food after this.

He prepares the fish and vegetables efficiently and cleans most of the utensils he uses in the process. Gwen will surely ask to do the dishes since he’s cooking and he doesn’t want to leave too much work for her. She will probably be tired from her shift at the clinic and the traffic across the city to David’s house, so it won’t hurt to take it easy on her.

David is satisfied with his preparations. He sets the table with his good plates and a pretty towel and puts the timer on the oven as he goes upstairs to take a shower.

***

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, trust me,” Christine smiles. “Sid said we’ll have a lot of bachelorette parties in the next month, so we think an all-male performance to open the nights will be a good idea.”

“Okay, it makes sense,” Max concedes. “But you know I don’t like dancing without you.”

“I know, Maxy,” Christine pinches his cheek. “It is adorable but I need you to work with the guys on this one. It will be a short number, just to open the nights, okay?”

Max groans. “Okay.”

“Good, now, pay attention here.”

Christine shows him a video clip with a group of four men dancing in some sort of prison corridor. The narrative of the video is confusing at best and nonexistent at worst but the visuals are very strong, the beat well defined and the choreography amazing. And insanely complex. Christine’s eyes shine with a touch of maniac glee as they watch the video.

“And this is what you want us to do?” Max asks, incredulous.

“Yes,” she answers decisively. “I mean, we’ll have to make our own version, but this is the idea, yes.”

“They are wearing high heels, you crazy bitch,” Max deadpans. “You want me to sprain my ankles? Ivan won’t fill in for me if it happens.”

“Oh, please Max,” she rolls her eyes. “Just give it a try, okay? I’ve learned to walk on them, surely you and the guys can too.”

“I’d rather not,” Max pouts.

“Don’t be a baby, Maxy,” she says rolling her eyes.

“I invited David to go to the club next weekend,” Max says pensively. “Do you think we’ll have it ready until then?”

“Oh, you want to impress your boyfriend!”

“Shut up, Christine!” Max pushes her away and she almost falls from her chair, but she is laughing all the while.

“I don’t know, do you think you can stop bitching and work with me?”

“Yes…”

“Good! So, pay attention again because after this we’ll go to the club talk to the guys and hopefully have it all set until next Saturday so you can make David’s heart throb. And hopefully, other parts of his anatomy too.”

***

“Sorry, David, the traffic was awful,” Gwen says as she hugs David at the door. She is barely fifteen minutes late but she knows how much David values punctuality.

“Don’t worry, you sent me a message so I knew you’d be late,” they separate and David takes a good look at her. “I hope you’re not too tired to enjoy the evening. You surely look exhausted.”

Gwen rubs her eyes lightly but shakes her head in a negative.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. It was the traffic, you know how much I hate those slow drivers who think they are on a field trip in fucking rush hour.”

“Yeah, I know,” he smiles a little and rubs his hands together excitedly. “But you are here now, and dinner is about to get ready.”

Gwen smiles at him and there is something off about it. It is small, so subtle he isn’t quite sure if it even exists. This is a rare occasion nowadays, after so many years David and Gwen are pretty proficient at reading one another. David can’t tell what is more alarming if it is the fact that he can’t immediately tell that there is something wrong, or that something happened and Gwen is trying to hide it from him.

They move onto the kitchen and David decides to put it aside for the moment. Maybe Gwen only needs some time to relax and gather her bearings before telling him what is the problem. Or maybe after some conversation, he’ll realize there was nothing wrong to start with.

In the kitchen, he busies himself with the fish and Gwen goes to the drawer get a corkscrew to open the wine. She pours two glasses and sets the bottle aside before putting the cake on the fridge to cool down a little, the hot weather had melted some of the frosting. David places the tray on a heat mat in the center of the table and Gwen brings the wine with her as she sits down.

“How you’ve been?” She asks, taking a sip of the wine.

“I’m very good,” David says with enthusiasm. “I’ve just set up a studio upstairs. It is small, just a background on the wall and some floodlights but it is mine and I am very excited about it.”

Gwen smiles benevolently at him. “This is very good! Are you planning on quitting the tour guides?”

David frowns a little as he serves Gwen a generous piece of salmon.

“No, I wouldn’t be able to quit the tour guides,” he says fondly. “You know how much I enjoy them, but I want more options and it is important to widen my repertoire.”

“Do you have anything in mind?”

“I’ll have a meeting next week,” he tells her. “It is a new magazine, focused on alternative fashion and culture. I am very optimistic.”

“What a surprise,” Gwen says with a little eye roll. She takes a bite and makes a pleased sound as she chews on it. “Oh, this is better than I remembered.”

“Thank you,” David starts to eat his own food. Gwen is right, it does taste better than the last few times he’d made it. His good humor might have infected the food.

They eat in silence for a while. A few times, David is certain that Gwen will finally tell what is wrong, but she just shakes her head slightly and continues eating. He doesn’t remember the last time they had such a silent meal. David’s plate is still half full when he gently sets his knife and fork down to look directly at Gwen.

Her eyes are sunken, and she is looking very tired. Not ‘tired from work’ or ‘stressed because of traffic’, but a deep kind of tiredness that David is all too familiar with. It is the exhaustion of a person being consumed by a problem that seems too big to face. David had had this look for ten years, but Gwen had overcome it when she started to work at the clinic and made her peace with Max’s disappearing. If she is back at this kind of mental space, something really serious might have happened.

David clears his throat to call her attention. Her reaction is slow, it takes a long second for her eyes to meet his.

“Gwen, is there anything you want to tell me?”

Gwen looks down and she tightens her grip on her cutlery. Silence stretches between them, dense and dark for a long while. Gwen gently places her knife and fork down before cleaning her mouth with the napkin.

“Did I tell you about Simone?”

David frowns. This isn’t what he was expecting.

“I am afraid not,” he says carefully. “Who is Simone?”

“Simone is an eight years old girl who was abused by an uncle,” Gwen tells him with a heavy expression on her face. “She was taken to the clinic by a social worker because they needed her testimony on the trial but she refused to speak. I’ve been working with her for a few weeks. In fact, the last time we met I had to leave earlier because they needed me to go to the court see her for the first time.”

“I am sorry, this is a very sad story,” David says, genuinely heartbroken.

“It took me a long time, but she is finally talking more freely with me,” Gwen continues. “Two days ago she said she wanted to talk on the court because she was worried about Bianca.”

“Who is Bianca?”

“Bianca is her ten years old sister,” Gwen explains and something happens to her face when she says it. Her expression hardens all of a sudden, but the vulnerability in her eyes becomes more evident by the change. “Bianca went on a trip with this uncle one year ago, but she didn’t return. Simone thinks the uncle might have hurt her sister,” the emphasis on the word make her meaning clear.

David swallows dryly, any trace of good humor gone. He knows this is the kind of reality Gwen faces on her work, and he wants to be there to help and support her, but it is so difficult. It is such an awful, terrible thing, and despite being a different situation he can’t help but think of Max and how close to this he was during his childhood. David’s throat close.

“So, two days ago I started to look for signs of Bianca,” Gwen says. voice breaking. “And you know that I have quite the experience with missing children. I still remember all the sites, all the forums. I still have all the usernames and passwords.”

Tears start to form in her eyes and David wants to hold her and comfort her but he is too paralyzed to act.

“And since I was there I decided to look our old topics looking for clues about Max… David, why did you close them?” Gwen’s tone is not accusatory, it is confused and somehow betrayed. She is shaking slightly, her lip trembling and her eyes glittering with unshed tears.

“Gwen… I….”

“I am sorry I gave up,” she says pitifully. “I wish I was stronger but I couldn’t keep up with that life. But I did it because I knew you’d be strong for the two of us. I knew you’d never give up,” her voice breaks in a big sob and David’s chair falls when he stands up to go around the table and hold her.

“I’m sorry I abandoned you,” she says between wavering breaths. “I’m sorry I left you alone on this, I’m sorry you had to give up too.”

“Gwen, Gwen, please stop crying,” David holds her in a tight embrace and she weakly holds the front of his shirt in reply. “Gwen, you were right, I’ve never given up.”

“But you close the topics,” she whines. “Now you’ll never receive new information, we’ll never find him!”

“I found him.”

Time seems to stop when David says those three words. It stretches like molasses, slow and heavy around them. David’s brain catches up with what he’s said a fraction of a second too late; at exactly the same moment Gwen processes the information.

She slowly pushes him off, her face a painful puzzle of feelings.

“You what?”

“I…” David takes a deep gulp. “I found him.”

Check this chapter on AO3.

[booksncoffee]

how you get the boy - seventeen

“He found out that we went on a date and he.. dunno, got a bit weird ‘bout it.”

“How weird?” He quizzed, confusing me with that question, “Niall Horan sort of weird or Tenley Beckworth sort of weird?”

read below // story page 

I didn't actually recognise the number when it appeared on my mobile phone. But since I was preparing a cup of chamomile tea, I wasn't really in the mood to play the guessing game.

Sliding my thumb over the screen whilst reminding myself to save these digits after this conversation ended, I clicked the loudspeaker option and put it down on the counter before I poured hot water into the cup.

“Tee, you like cupcakes, right?” Harry asked before I got the chance to say a word, his voice familiar in every way it shouldn't. Behind my closed lids, I could make out a clear picture of him with a lopsided smile, eyes glinting with mischief. I pushed that image away immediately, for I didn't even want to think how I’d managed to conjure that up in my head; I refused to believe that I remembered every inch of his face.

“Yeah, but not as much as you do,” I replied as I picked up the device and held it in one hand.

For the past week, since the night Harry saved my number in his mobile, he had been sending me abundance of text messages and against my better judgment, I replied to most of them. Originally, I had thought that talking to him through text messages would be boring, but I was proved wrong because he was anything but boring. As a matter of fact, I found him quite an entertaining texter.

Much like when we were face to face, Harry was good at keeping the conversation going. I didn't know how he did it, but I wasn't going to complain because I did enjoy talking to him although sometimes he asked too many questions.

There’s a laugh and a sound of shuffling accompanying it before Harry let out an exasperated sigh, “Niall’s with me and he thinks this place Jo’s working at makes better cupcakes than Crumbles.”

Again, I could imagine how he looked like at the moment, his bottom lip jutted out, creating a pout and dissatisfied frown adorned his forehead. I pushed that image to the back of my mind quickly.

“And you don't agree with him,” I said pointedly before I brought the cup up to my lips and took a sip of the hot tea. I relaxed against the cabinet, a sigh of relief escaping my lips.  

Almost immediately, a loud scoff came from the speaker. “Course not!” He exclaimed, “Are you mental?”

At that, I let out an amused chuckle. Despite the fact that I was aware of his love towards cupcakes, I didn't know he was capable of getting overly defensive over them too. “’m not. But-“

I didn't get to finish my sentence as Niall’s voice came into the speaker. He probably had snatched Harry’s mobile from his hand, for I could distinctly pick out the sound of Harry’s groan in the background. “Tee, don’t listen to H.”

I felt my brows furrowing in confusion although corners of my lips twitched. Then, before I could ask him why, Harry’s voice returned. “No, don’t listen to Niall,” he told me, “He’s only saying this cos he wants to woo Jo.”

“Am not!” Niall shouted.

“Shut up, Ni,” Harry said next and I could hear the sound of a slap. I could only assume that Harry had just slapped Niall – not on his face, I was sure – for his inability to give people some privacy. But then again, Harry sort of deserved it considering he was all the same. “Oh and Tee, could you come to my place later?”

Upon hearing the front door opening and closing, I disabled the loudspeaker and pressed my mobile phone against my ear, “Hmm?”

“Come to my place in about thirty minutes?” Harry repeated his question and added, “Niall and I need you to tell us which cupcake’s better.”

Soon, Louis appeared in the kitchen, his dark blue beanie pulled down to cover his ears. It must’ve been cold out there, I thought. “Okay.”

“Love you, Tee!” Niall shouted from behind Harry, followed by, “C’mon, H, tell her you love her too.”

“Fuck off,” Harry snarled almost too quickly, most likely giving Niall the bird and his infamous scowl right about now, “Ignore him, bunny, I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure.” I replied with a nod although I was aware that he wouldn't be able to see that. After ending the call, I looked up to see Louis kinking an eyebrow at me as he took of his beanie and ruffled his hair. Next, he shrugged off his jacket and placed it on the counter. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiled though it didn't quite reach his eyes. Eyes fixed on my mobile phone, he asked, “Talking to Harry?”

I’d like to think that I was just imagining the venom lilting his voice as he said Harry’s name, but I was almost 100% positive that I wasn't because his feature changed slightly when I nodded, “Yeah. And Niall.”

Taking a bottle of beer out from the fridge, Louis took a sip of it before he continued, “Heard you went on a date with Harry the other night.”

Although I shouldn't be surprised given that he would find out about this sooner or later, I couldn't lie and say that I wasn't taken aback when he brought the topic up. It had been two days since Harry and I’s date night and a part of me thought he’d forgotten about it; or rather, a part of me wished he wouldn't question me about it. I supposed he deserved some sort of explanation since he was the one who opened the door when Harry dropped me off at my flat at around 1 am as I’d forgotten to bring my key with me.

“I did,” I answered.

“Thought you hate him or summat,” Louis mentioned before he chugged down the beer. I didn’t like the tone he was using as he said those words, so naturally it wasn't my fault that I turned on my defensive mode.

“I’m just giving him a chance.” I countered. As I crossed my arms in front of chest, I pretended that they were shielding me from his words; words that I knew would hurt me in spite my subconscious telling me again and again that I shouldn't take it to heart.

“The way you gave me a chance?” Louis chuckled menacingly and I hoped he was drunk, but a bottle of beer wouldn't be enough to get someone like him drunk unless he’d had drinks before. But I doubted that as his schedule was packed today and I was pretty certain he went home straight after his last class. Scoffing, he added under his breath, “Sounds convenient.”

He must have thought that I wouldn't hear those two words, but I did and it made my blood boil with anger. Not even a sip of this chamomile tea could calm me down. “I’ve been giving you lots of chances, Lou, but you’ve never taken it.”

For a moment, he looked puzzled as though he had no clue what I was hinting at. So he asked, “What do you mean?”

“I think you know the answer, Lou,” I replied with a scoff and a roll of my eyes.

“What? That you like me? Is that the answer?” He sounded so mean, so unlike of him that for a couple of seconds, I was scared of him. In fact, I was quite sure that I flinched the entire time he was speaking, “Well, Tee, s’hard to believe you since you’re not doing a good job at showing it to me, especially with you running to Harry at every chance you get.”

My brows furrowed with both confusion and anger and I clenched my fist, hoping that it could lessen the anger flowing in my veins. I put down the cup I was holding and took a few steps towards Louis. “What? Are you seriously saying those things to me right now?”

“Face it, Tee, that’s the truth,” he said as he walked around me to throw the beer bottle into the trashcan. Shrugging, he added whilst making his way out of the kitchen, “What else do you want me to say?”

I wasn't going to let him get away after saying such things to me. Back then, the hopelessly, madly in love with Louis me would’ve let that comment slip away, but not this time.

I stood in front of him, halting him in his tracks, “Y’know, s’funny coming from you cos you’re the last person who has the right to judge me. You’re bloody brilliant at making poor choices, anyway.”

“Yeah?” He challenged me, to which I nodded my head bravely. A voice inside my head told me that doing that, it was a bad decision. “Well, s’pose taking you in as a flatmate is one of them, innit?”

His bluntness rendered me temporarily speechless. Louis took my surprise as an advantage for him to step aside and walk into his room. I heard him turning the lock on his door and I had half the heart to shout at him, telling him that I didn't even want to talk to him anymore. As a matter of fact, I couldn't even look at him.

Stomping my feet back to the kitchen, I finished my chamomile tea, eager to get the hell out of this flat. All of sudden, I felt suffocated, like every single atom in my body felt like I didn't belong here. Like this wasn't my place, after all, even though by right, it was. His words kept ringing in my head, reminding me again and again that this place belonged to him and I was just renting it. And choosing me as his flatmate was one of the poor choices that he’d made in his life.

It hurt tremendously to hear Louis say those things to me, for if there were one person I didn't expect to hear it from, it’d be him. For so long I created a version of him that made me fall so in love with him and for so long I didn't realise that who he really was wasn't the same as the person in my head.

I guessed this was reality slapping me hard in the face – something that I needed.

After washing the cup, I quickly made my way out of the flat, desperate to forget everything he said to me. It didn't work, unfortunately, as they followed me out to the hallway where I paced back and forth in front of Harry’s flat. And when my feet had grown tired, I sat cross-legged on the floor, my back against the wall as I waited for Harry and Niall.  

Luckily I didn't have to wait until my arse was numb. They arrived a few minutes later. Niall’s booming voice was the first thing I heard, followed by Harry’s, but I couldn't quite make out what they were talking about.

Upon seeing someone sitting on the floor in front of Harry’s door, both of them stopped walking, eyes nearly bulged from their heads. However, when they realised that it was just me, a smirk tugged at the corners of Niall’s lips whereas Harry shot me a questioning look.

I stood up from the floor and brushed away the figmental dust, ignoring the look Harry was giving me. He was probably wondering why was I sitting on the floor, in front of his flat. Good thing, Niall’s with us so Harry must have decided to hold off the question until there was just the two of us.

“I expect you boys have cupcakes for me.” I said, my eyes drifting to the two boxes Niall was holding, securing them like they were the most important things in his life.

“Of course,” Niall answered, a smug grin approaching his thin lips as he gave Harry’s shoulder a nudge, “Any last word before you lose?”

Harry gave Niall a sideway glance as he unlocked his front door, “You’re bloody annoying.”

His head was thrown back as he let out a loud, contagious laugh that managed to make me laugh too despite the sadness splashed across my chest. “Not something I’d want to hear, but I understand that it’s just your wounded ego talking.”

Harry gave his friend a middle finger one more time before he walked into his flat. He went straight to the kitchen so the two of us followed suit. Niall placed two boxes of cupcakes on the island, rubbing his palms together as if he was eager to get a taste of them. Then he looked at me, his penetrating gaze almost made me listen to him, “Remember, Tee, no matter how much you like Harry, you need to be fair.”

I opened my mouth, ready to deny his statement. I closed it a second later, though, because everyone – excluding Harry, I hoped – knew I would only be wasting my energy in trying to convince Niall that I didn't like Harry.

I nodded my head, “Fine. ‘m all ‘bout being fair, anyway.”

At that, both Harry and Niall scoffed like they didn't believe me. For a moment I wondered what had I done to not deserve their trust, but before I could come up with an answer, Harry tied a piece of cloth around my head, blindfolding me.

“It’s a blind test,” Harry whispered in my ear, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine – I wished neither Harry nor Niall noticed that – as he gave my shoulders a squeeze. “This is to prevent you from cheating.”

I laughed, amused that this whole thing was happening. Who would’ve thought that two grown blokes would ask me to become a judge in their ridiculous competition? Hint: not me. “You lads are taking this thing seriously.”

“We take everything seriously,” Niall corrected me, poking my rib. It was a fruitless attempt at convincing me because regardless what he said I knew it wasn't true, especially since it came from Niall. “C’mon, Tee, stop wasting our time. We need to know whose cupcake’s better.”

“Obviously Crumbles’,” Harry said rather confidently, those simple words had the power to annoy Niall. It was true when they said that your other senses came to live when your eyes were blinded. Because right now, I was pretty sure that Niall was glaring at Harry and Harry was shooting him his infamous, irritating smirk. “But Niall’s right, bunny, stop wasting our time and stop sniffing the cupcake.”

Caught red-handed, I nearly dropped the dessert I was holding; it wasn't my fault that the smell of this thing was so strong that I couldn't possibly push away the urge to sniff it. My cheeks warmed in embarrassment and under their unwavering gazes, I took a bite of the first chocolate cupcake.

There was no telling whether this cupcake was from Crumbles or the other bakery, but one thing I was certain of, it was bloody delicious. The chocolate melted on my tongue the second it got into my mouth and although I wasn't exactly a big fan of chocolate, I wouldn't mind eating this thing again and again. I could feel the cream on top it leaving a mess on my mouth, but I didn't care. That proved you did enjoy the cupcake, didn't it?

However, before I could take another bite, the cupcake in my hand was replaced with another one. I could hear Niall saying something about how the wait was killing him under his breath. I brought the dessert up to my lips and ate it.

Unlike the first cupcake, this one was less sweet and less chocolate-y. Nonetheless, it was still good. Perhaps it couldn't beat the richness of the first one, but I liked how it didn't assault my senses with the sweetness of chocolate. It had traces of salted caramel that added and complimented the chocolate taste and I liked it. Better than I could have baked, to be honest.

As soon as I put down the cupcake, Harry moved to stand behind me and took off the blindfold. Almost instantly, I came face to face with an eager yet anxious looking Niall who was chewing on his nails. I slapped his hand away.

“So?” He asked with a kink of an eyebrow. “The first one or the second one?”

I could sense that the air had shifted as my eyes darted from Niall’s face to Harry’s, both of them looking like they were ready to jump off of a building whilst I mulled over my decision. “I still can’t believe you two are taking this thing seriously.”

Whereas Harry let out a frustrated groan, Niall ran a hand down his face, both clearly had had enough of the waiting.

“Fine, fine,” I chuckled, holding both hands up in defeat, “I think I like the first cupcake better.”

Upon hearing my decision, Harry had a surprised look written all over his face that soon morphed into a huge smile when he pulled me into his arms. He left a couple of kisses on top of my head, his lips then moving to my cheeks where he peppered kisses all over them, clearly overjoyed that I had chosen his cupcake – not that I knew it was in the first place.

When I glanced to look at Niall, he rolled his eyes and muttered, “You’re only letting H win cos you like him.”

“That sounds a lot like the loser talking,” Harry commented which further irritated Niall, to which he received a death glare in return. “Besides, it’s a blind test, Ni.”

“Honest to God, you two deserve each other,” Niall said grimly as he reached for another cupcake from the box and shoved it into his mouth. As far as I was concerned, he had never liked it when he lost and I could only assume that he wasn't taking this well. Hopping onto the island, he then looked at us, his eyes lingering on Harry’s hand that was wrapped around my shoulder. “Which reminds me, how’s the date?”

“I told you, we’re not telling you anything, Ni,” Harry said as he moved away from me to take out three bottles of beer from the fridge. Handing one of them to me and another one to Niall, he then occupied the stool next to me. His shoulders and thighs brushed against mine and I held in my breath.

Trying to ignore the effect he had on me, I smiled at Niall, “Yeah, Ni. We don't do this whole kiss and tell thing.”

It was a mistake saying that because immediately, he smirked and leant forward, “So you kissed then?” When no one answered him, he continued, “What ‘bout Louis? S’he taking the news well? Not that I cared bout him or anything.”

The mention of Louis’ name made it seemed as though someone had just dumped an ice cold water over my head when it was just merely a question that I didn't even have to answer if I didn't want to. My grip on the beer bottle had tightened slightly and though I wished no one had noticed the change in my body language and expression, Harry had. And right now, he was looking at me concernedly. I knew there were numbers of questions on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't articulate any of them.

Instead, his hand drifted to my knee and he gave it a gentle squeeze before he placed his palm on top of mine and intertwined our fingers. Then, he looked up and squinted his eyes at Niall. “Stop being nosy, will you?”

Rolling his eyes and sticking his tongue out at Harry – a real mature move – he made his way to the living room where he turned on the television and made himself comfortable there. But not before he took another bottle of beer from the fridge and took the rest of the cupcakes with him.

Once he was truly out of our sights and hopefully, hearings too, Harry swivelled his body until he was facing me. The concerned look had returned and I knew he wanted to hear the explanation he’d been waiting for since he saw me on the floor.

“What happened?” He asked softly as he brought his hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His hand lingered there for a moment and I swallowed the lump that had thickened in my throat. “Y’know you can confide in me, yeah?”

He’s right; I knew I could. But the thing is, I wasn't sure if I wanted him to know about my argument with Louis and how his little outburst bothered me until now. It was my problem with Louis, not Harry. By right, I should handle it alone, but with Harry being in such a close proximity, looking at me with sincere and kind eyes, along with that little reassuring smile, I sighed and said, “It’s Louis.”

Almost instantly, two deep lines appeared between his furrowed brows. I had to fight the urge to try and erase them with my fingertips so I casted my gaze elsewhere. Conveniently, my eyes were attracted to his lips that were pressed together, creating a thin line.

“We sort of got into an argument, but s’nothing big,” I added when I realised that he was waiting for something more than just the name of the person that managed to occupy my mind – not in a good way. “I’ll get over it.”

Harry’s grip tightened slightly and I looked at our clasped hands, at the way his hand nearly engulfing mine. We hardly held hands before, but looking at it felt almost natural. However, that was the least of my concern because Harry wasn't satisfied with my answer. “What’d he say?”

I sighed, “S’noth-“

Harry shook his head, his voice firm as he said, “Bunny.”

“Fine,” I relented and ran my fingers through my hair before I opened my mouth to speak the truth, “He found out that we went on a date and he.. dunno, got a bit weird ‘bout it.”

“How weird?” He quizzed, confusing me with that question, “Niall Horan sort of weird or Tenley Beckworth sort of weird?”

I snorted at his attempt to inject humour into a situation that wasn't funny. He meant well, I was aware of that, as it’s typical for Harry to make things lighter whilst I was tense – something I didn't realise before. Sighing, I smiled sadly, “Not that kind of weird. S’just.. I don’t know.”

Sensing that this matter might be more serious than he initially thought, Harry scooted closer to me and put his arms around my shoulders, “What’s wrong, bunny?”

The warmth he was providing to me made me feel a tad better, but that didn't stop the bitter chuckle from escaping my throat as I murmured, “He said taking me in as his flatmate is one of the poor choices he’s made.”

At that, I felt Harry’s body tense and purely out of instinct, I pressed my lips to his shoulder that was fortunately – unfortunately – covered with his white t-shirt. I was hoping that it could help drain the tension from his body, but it didn't. Instead, he gently pushed me away from him so he could look me in the eyes, “Tell me you didn't let him walk away after saying that to you.”

“He got into his room before I could stop him.” I shrugged, pressing my fingertips against the spot between his brows, wishing that I could make his frown disappear. But I couldn't.

Harry wrapped his hand around my wrist, bringing my hand down to his lap. “Bunny, what he said..” he trailed off, his eyes darting from my face to our hands, as he shook his head, “You don’t deserve that.”

I placed my other hand on top of his, giving him a reassuring smile, “As I’ve said earlier, s’fine. I’ll get ov-“

“You’ll get over it, I know. That doesn't mean he can get away with that,” He nodded his head and swallowed thickly before adding, “Bunny, I know you, uh, love him but he’s a fucking idiot. And if he doesn't like living with you anymore then you can just move in here.”

I let out a chuckle, “I thought you like living alone.”

“I did,” he said and I didn't miss the way he’d used the past tense instead of the present tense. Because of that, I couldn't help but wonder what made him change his mind. “You can take the room next to mine. It’s almost always vacant.”

“Almost?” I kinked an eyebrow at him and colours began to bloom his cheeks.

“Unless my sister comes to visit me, no one has ever slept in that room.” He said with a shrug, his answer far different from what I had in my mind.

“I appreciate the offer, button, but s’okay,” I patted his knee and got up from the stool, “Everything will be alright.”

He followed me out of the kitchen and before we reached the living room, he asked, “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

&&

I should have known better than to be confident that things would be alright.

When I returned to my flat after watching a couple of movies with Harry and Niall – I didn't know how they managed to convince me to stay, but they did – Louis hardly looked at me, let alone talked to me. In fact, as soon as he heard me walking through the front door, he left the living room to return to the confinement of his bedroom.

This morning was no different. He left before I had the chance to catch him in the kitchen for breakfast. Although by right I was the one who should be avoiding him after what he said to me, it appeared as though the roles were reversed.

“I thought he couldn't get any stupider but he just proved me wrong,” Shiloh mentioned, distaste lilting each and every word that slipped past her lips whilst we made our way to a restaurant not too far from our campus for lunch. “Honestly, Tee, you should ditch him.”

“S’not that easy,” I muttered under my breath as I pushed open the door to get us inside. I let my eyes wander around the place in search of an empty table and I instantly caught one by the corner. I dragged Shiloh with me, hoping that with food around us, she would drop the subject.

Much to my dismay, she refused to. “Does Harry know about this?”

Flipping open the menu, I nodded. “Yeah, told him last night.”

“I’m gonna save this whole ‘I can’t believe you told him before you told me’ speech cos I’m curious,” she said in one breath, reaching out to snatch the menu from my hand so I couldn't hide behind it. Eyes glinting with interest, she asked, “What’d he say?”

“Said Louis’ a fucking idiot,” I quoted Harry’s words to her and at that, Shiloh agreed with a nod of her head and a small smirk, “And offered me his place.”

“And you said no,” she stated, slightly disappointed by that piece of information she’d deduced herself. Knowing full well that I wasn't going to delve further into this topic anymore, she sighed and handed the menu back to me. “You’re my best friend, Tee, and I just want the best for you.”

“I know,” I said with a sincere smile gracing my lips, “And right now the best thing for me is a grilled cheese sandwich and a cup of caramel macchiato.”

Luckily, when the waiter came over to our table to take our orders, Shiloh decided to drop the subject and started talking about her day. I listened to her, suddenly wishing that my life were as simple as hers – minus the abundance of assignments she had – and wishing that I hadn’t gotten myself tangled in this web of mess I’d created myself.

As soon as we had finished our lunch, Shiloh returned to our campus as she had one more class for the day. I, on the other hand, went straight home. I took a deep breath before my hand found the knob, all of sudden I was afraid to walk in and face Louis when earlier I was intent on straightening things out between us.

Once I did find the courage, I opened the door and stepped inside quietly, for I didn't want to make a sound. The flat, surprisingly, wasn't as quiet as it always was. There were two distinct voices talking over one another and I felt a frown making its way up to my forehead as I followed the sources of the sound.

Soon enough, Harry and Louis came into my vision. Whereas Louis was sitting on the couch comfortably, Harry was standing in front of him, his lips moving animatedly as he spoke. I didn't catch what he was talking about at first, however, but the nearer I was to them, the more I hear. Since the two of them were invested with each other, throwing words after words, neither noticed that I was only a few feet away from me.

“Tenley’s an amazing person and you’re a fucking idiot for treating her like that,” Harry spat, his voice even as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.  

“Fuck off, Harry,” Louis muttered under his breath like he didn't even want to talk to him. But if there’s one thing I knew about Harry, he’s persistent and even if you didn't want to talk to him, he’d make you talk.

“You need to apologise to her,” Harry said through his gritted teeth and those words seemed to catch Louis’ attention. Turning off the television, Louis tilted his head to take one good look at Harry before he opened his mouth to speak.

“I said,” Louis drawled, heaving himself off of the couch so he was standing as well, jabbing the other boy’s chest with his finger, “Fuck off, Harry.”

Then everything happened so fast that it wasn't until it had happened that I finally surged forward, a futile attempt to stop it. Harry’s clenched fist made contact with Louis’ face, an action that he saw coming but still, it caught him off guard. However, almost stumbling on my own feet, I didn't get to stop Louis before he threw a punch at Harry, hitting him right on the nose. Despite the fact that he was a bit smaller than Harry, his punch still jolted him backwards and I took that as an opportunity for me to stand between them.

“Stop,” I hissed at them before I added, “Fucking stop this.”

Louis looked at me or rather, glared at me, his hand clutching one side of his face though he shouldn't because a direct contact with the bruise only made him wince in pain. Glancing through my shoulder, I saw that Harry was doing the same, except he was touching his nose, wiping the blood with the sleeve of his shirt.

“I’m gonna get ice now,” I told them, my eyes darting from Harry to Louis, both of them refused to look at me. “I need you two to stay as far away from each other as possible.”

With that being said, I ran to the kitchen, heading straight to the fridge. I could barely get my grip on the handle because my hands were shaking, numbing me from getting a proper grip. Closing my eyes, I willed myself to get my shit together. It was hard to do so, though, considering that every time I closed my eyes, I saw both Harry and Louis punching, all bloody nose and bruised face and I found myself worrying. And worse, I began to blame myself for everything that happened.

When I returned to the living room, Harry was no longer around and there was only Louis who’s pacing back and forth. Upon seeing me from the corner of his eyes, he stopped and took the ice pack from my hand. Before I could open my mouth and say something to him, he’d already turned and bolted from the room.

Sighing, I made my way out of the flat because as much as I was worried about Louis, I was worried about Harry too.

Though any other days – since I started coming over to his place every now and then, that is – I wouldn't knock on his door, given what had just happened, I gave it two knocks before I opened the door and walked in. Just like the first time I popped up in his place, he looked alarmed when he heard the click of the door.

Hesitation was evident with every step that I took, afraid to get a closer look at Harry’s face and he seemed to notice that because a second later, he offered me a small smile – one that didn't reach his eyes. A part of me was prompted to come forward, whereas another part of me wanted to flee. I was, after all, the reason why he and Louis got into that fist fight and the reason for the blood tainting his –t-shirt.  

“Hi,” I approached him with a smile, occupying the spot next to him on the couch as he scooted over. Without waiting for him to say anything in reply, I leant forward to place the ice pack against the side of his nose, taking his hand in mine and replacing my hand with his.

“S’not broken, bunny, don’t worry,” he told me, a smug smirk touching his lips. At that, I let out a relieved sigh and my body visibly relaxed. “Were you worried ‘bout me?”

I gave him a sideway glance, taking in the curve of his lips and the dimples indenting both sides of his cheeks. “Maybe,” I admitted under my breath. “What were you thinking?”

“That you wouldn't come home to see all that,” he answered sincerely, a look of guilt flashing in his green eyes. Putting down the ice, he let out a sigh as he faced me, “I can’t believe he refused to apologise to you.”

Just like yesterday, I told him the same thing, “Harry, s’fine.”

“No, it’s not,” he countered with a shake of his head. He ran his fingers through his hair, a frustrated groan escaping his throat, “Tenley, you need to stop giving him chances. He doesn't deserve it, fuck, he doesn't deserve you.”

The last sentence was barely audible, but thanks to the silence, I heard him clearly. Looking at him, all I saw was sincerity and concern. He was truly concerned about me and I appreciated that, but I was an adult and I knew what or who deserved and didn't deserve me. I didn't need anyone to provide me guidance in regards to that.

I offered him a smile as I got up from his couch, “Thank you for sticking up for me, Harry, but I need to go and see Louis now.”  

At the mention of Louis’ name, his face dropped and he didn't bother to hide it. Nodding his head, he took the ice and pressed it against his nose, casting his gaze elsewhere as though he didn't want to watch me walk away. I gave him one last look before I turned around and left his flat to return to mine.

Once I was positive that I was ready to face Louis, I took a deep breath and knocked on his bedroom door. When there was no respond from the other side of the door, I turned the knob, noticing that it’s unlocked and stepped inside.

The room was empty. And that’s when realisation dawned on me, one that hit me hard: he ran away each time things became complicated for him.