#THE HALF-ASLEEP-WRITTEN RAMBLE WOO!!!!!

[onesidedradiostatic]

was gonna make a joke about this and have this be a shitpost instead but honestly may pass out soon so I'll type this seriously cause I have no energy to come up with a clever joke

it's interesting how vox's insults in stayed gone are literally just different ways of saying "you're old and outdated you're old and outdated you're old and outdated you're old and outda" tackled with a bit of "you're a coward" in there, whereas alastor's insults are not jabs at vox being new or modern tech, but rather his practices, "clout-chasing mediocre video podcast" he's saying he's a pandering, attention-seeking sellout, and he targets at vox's insecurities, questions his power, then makes fun of him for still being salty about his rejection.

I feel like it's pretty telling how vox's insults are just SO shallow, while alastor's cut deeper and more personally. while you could say, alastor may be just better at roasting than vox, I feel like it could also tell you something about alastor's hatred of vox being based on actual reason, which makes sense, he is the one who rejected the idea of being on a team with vox, the one who decided to make the decision to step away from their friendship. there were likely legitimate things about vox that alastor started to notice he didn't like.

whereas vox's hatred is extremely petty, he's still pissy over that rejection, he has no reasonable reason to hate on alastor's practices or medium. literally ALL he has is constantly repeating how tv is better and newer and how radio is worse and older, that he literally uses that SAME snap back even after alastor has his part "what a dated voice!" "you're looking at the future! he's the shit that comes before that!". he has NOTHING on alastor. if you asked him to make a list about what he hated about alastor he would probably just give you 10000 synonyms of "he's old and outdated" and be unable to come up with anything non-superficial. because the falling out on his part, from his perspective, was being rejected. and after that, BLIND RAGE. he hates alastor. he does. but he can't reasonably tell you why.

[lexilucacia]

Hi, can you write something where Chase is in a stable and healthy relationship with a girl/guy from outside of work and one day they make him lunch with cute notes inside and house finds it and then mocks him before the team ( original or the rest) and Chase goes I'm happy and that's what matters and then he goes home and proposes because he knows his partner is all he wants in life. Pls pls pls i just want him to be happy.

This prompt really spoke to me, so I’m sooooo sorry to everyone else’s I haven’t written yet, but when inspiration strikes, it just does!

Title: Little notes For Chase

Words: 3031

Tags: Marriage Proposal ×Weddings ×Fluff ×House Being House ×Secret Relationship ×Love Letters ×(or notes really) ×love notes ×thats not a tag ×Love Confessions ×Cross-Posted on Tumblr ×Tumblr Prompt ×Teasing ×Happy Ending ×Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts ×Author Is Sleep Deprived ×I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping ×POV Robert Chase ×

Pairings: Robert Chase/OMC

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29378082

Chase smiled again at the little note that his partner had slipped inside his lunch bag. They never failed to make him smile from the ones that had long extravagant messages to the small ‘I love u!’s that often made an appearance on a busy morning. He can’t really remember how it started, he thinks it must have been a late night where Chase was a bit too tired to pack his own bag (and that made him sound like a school kid). So, Felix had packed food for him, sending him off to work with a kiss and a ‘I love you’. 

He had seen the yellow postie flutter to the ground, catching in his grip recognising it as one of his partner’s lucky posties with ducks in the corners. The little message had caught him off guard, he’d expected his boyfriend’s weird rambles that he left around the house accidentally packed in his bag, but instead it was a little smiley face and a love heart. The note read, ‘don’t forget that you are loved (especially by me)’ with little hat drawn onto the printed cartoon duck.

He clutched the note to his chest, pinning it up in his locker once his lunch break was over. They didn’t speak of it, but at night, after Chase had thought Felix was asleep he pressed a soft kiss to his nape, and squeezed him a little tighter. 

The notes had become a constant in his life, he was used to finding one sitting one behind the toothpaste holder, one in the cabinet next to a new box of his favourite cereal and occasionally in his textbooks when he was studying for requalifications. He still found notes in his lunchbox, his favourite sitting next to a picture of him and his beloved. This one in particular read ‘I know I don’t have to woo you my love, you’d never leave me. But if you did, let’s just say I know an abandoned warehouse, you’re with me for the long haul.’ 

Chase had almost cried at that one and had wanted to pull out the wedding ring he’d put in the back of his cupboard a few months prior, that very night. Felix’s warped, wacky and weird sense of humour was the reason Chase loved him so much. He nevertheless stopped himself, unable to forgive himself if Felix didn’t get the proposal he deserved, goddamnit. 

They’d talked about marriage a lot, but neither had popped the question and Chase wanted to make the day that he did perfect (if Felix didn’t beat him to it at this rate). He was falling more in love with the man and his endearing notes, not that he’d thought it was possible and most days he thought his heart might burst with love. He’d be concerned if he wasn’t a doctor and working at a hospital.

Felix always seemed to know what to say. Reminders of love and worth came on days where he couldn’t his dad’s words out of his head, notes of memories and date nights came when Chase was feeling nostalgic, and his favourite every day the assurance of love. He never knew how to repay Felix, what to do for him, so he settled on small things, things that often would come up in the notes.

He’d notice that Felix was running out of clean socks and the next day all of Felix’s socks would be lined up, folded and washed (even if he’d had a night shift), prompting the drawing of tiny socks on his next note. Or Chase unloading the dishwasher, or putting Felix’s books away when he fell asleep with them on his chest. 

Both of them savoured these small things, tokens of their love, their bliss and domesticity. It all seemed to be going well, until one day Chase was careless. His boss House had all but ordered a team lunch, so there was no way out with his dignity (or secrets as it may be). 

Lunch started out normal, or normal as it could be with House and his nosey (pining in one case) colleagues, Cameron and Foreman, so he should have expected this. Chase pulled out his lunch bag, ignoring the snickering from House about how gay it looked and set to work digging through to see what food Felix had packed today. Inside it held a vegemite sandwich, a few pieces of chopped up fruit, juice box and a small lamington they’d purchased earlier in the week.

It honestly looked like a school lunch, House teasing him as such as he ignored his definitely flaming cheeks and certainly beet red ears. He was almost (not really) pleased to see the lack of a note perching in his bag, until something yellow fluttered past his eye, reminding him of the first day. Before he could smile goofily at the memory and snatch up his note, a loud sound rang out in the cafeteria.

The yellow disappeared under a familiar stump of wood, that Chase was used to hearing click down the halls of PPTH. The man had surprisingly quick reflexes (only when it embarrassed Chase of course) and the paper made a loud sound as it slid along the floor to House’s foot. The thrum of his heart beat and the scraping of the paper was all he could hear as the cafeteria noise was muffled around him. 

The older man picked up the note, capturing the attention of a few tables around them and the new people sitting at their table. House scrunched his eyes at the note, crinkling his nose in distaste at contents and reading it disdainfully.

“3 years i’ve put up with your ugly mug and you still haven’t learnt to fold shirts properly. Date night doesn’t sound so fun now.” The note had a crudely, pencil drawn shirt on the duck, making Chase smile as he looked over House’s shoulder.

Ho honestly didn’t know whether to sob or laugh, settling for a strange mixture of both, smile wide and tears running down his face, so that the rest of the cafeteria was staring at him, if they hadn’t been before.

It was their 3 year anniversary, Felix had remembered the conversation they’d had on their first date, he had never been more in love with the man. He must have zoned back, because when he finally snapped back to snatch the note from a gaping House’s hand, he was being barraged with questions.

“3 years?”

“Why didn’t we know?”

“Who is she?”

“What’s the crying for?”

“How could you have kept this a secret?”

“Is she hot?”

“I thought you slept with everyone?”

“What about the nurses?”

Chase was already getting a headache, not in the mood for this and wanting to sneak off and call Felix, just to rant about his day or blubber about his love, whatever came out first. He put a hand out, effectively silencing everyone. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What do you want to know?”

Before they could all start shouting again he sighed. “One at a time.”

“Who is she? Why didn’t we know? How long Chase?” Chase had to coach his face into a neutral expression not to blow up at Cameron, the woman had made it no secret of her crush on him.

He simply raised an eyebrow, on an otherwise poker face. “His name is Felix. 3 years and I am under no obligation to share my personal life. There is a reason it’s my private life.” He glared.

Cameron looked shocked, before apologising for being rude and Chase felt a little guilty, but not enough to apologise in front of hundreds of prying eyes. He turned to Foreman who looked like he was bursting for a question.

“He?” Was all Foreman could get out, voice squeaky.

“He is the love of my life. Any more questions?”

“Knew you were too pretty to be straight.” House smirked, taking a bite into the younger man’s sandwich before spitting it out. 

“Did you try to poison me?” He shrieked.

It was Chase’s turn to smirk, picking up the offending sandwich and taking a large bite out of the other side. “I hope my boyfriend wasn’t trying to do so, it would have been me.” He exclaimed with mock horror.

He munched on the sandwich ignoring the taunts coming his way from House and walked back to his locker to put away his lunch bag and postie. Unfortunately House, Foreman and Cameron had deigned it necessary to walk him to his locker. After failed attempts to get them to walk away he opened his locker, smiling at the bright yellow notes and pictures of the two of them.

The photos detailed their story, their first date and Chase could almost feel it, smell it, taste it. Their hands damp with nervous sweat, uncomfortable suits and awkward conversation at a fancy Italian restaurant that had ended with them shucking off their ties, undoing their top buttons, kicking off their shoes and running in the rain. There was a cute, but blurry before and after photo of their date that Chase had insisted on printing for their anniversary. 

The rest of the images showed dates at DisneyLand, kisses under the mistletoe, birthdays and anniversaries spent together, hell there was even a picture of a half asleep Felix, shirtless and covered by a white sheet, Chase had taken one morning when the sun was just right and he looked like an angel in disguise. 

The post it notes took up all his locker door, some half hanging off, some stuck with blue tac, others with sticky tape and the special ones hung on a piece of string with some old pegs. It was truly an altar for his love, his life and he couldn’t be happier. Tucked behind it was an old picture of a shirtless blonde, teen, smiling widely on the beach, arm around a similar looking but younger girl, also grinning. They were holding matching surfboards and both were dripping wet from the surf, clutching ice blocks. 

Chase treasured the photo of him and his sister, but Felix took up the most space, like he did in Chase’s life. He’d bounded in and never left, from the day he’d run into him on a train and spilt coffee on him (what a cliche), while running late for one of House’s crazy ideas. Felix had filled the hole in his life that Chase hadn’t realised he’d had, life always filled with colour and joy and weirdness, with love and a warmth he’d never felt before. For once he was content, no matter what he could hear the others muttering behind him.

Foreman didn’t leave him alone the rest of the day, every time they went to do lab samples, nudging him and asking about his sex life. Cameron was more discreet but she too wanted to know everything, it wasn’t unusual behaviour for either, but it had never really been directed at him, making it disconcerting. 

House however, was acting much the same, always having teased him about the nurses, only changing the pronouns he used and adding more gay jabs than usual. It didn’t bother Chase for some reason today, maybe it was because he was too excited to see Felix, see what they were for their 3rd year anniversary, Felix had said he’d wanted to plan it this year.

As he was leaving the hospital, he was met with wolf whistles and an eyebrow raise from Cuddy (of course House had gone to her). Wilson also gave him a soft smile as he left, wishing him the next of luck Chase supposed, while House had pelted him with comments about his sex life and ‘taking it up the arse’ as he left. He didn’t care, he was floating on a cloud.

He had to stop himself from speeding home, knowing it was dangerous and Felix would definitely scold him for it, besides he didn’t want to go back to PPTH tonight. After what felt like forever he pulled up outside his house and didn’t bother waiting before he grabbed his bag, rushing up the stairs. What he saw when he entered was not what he expected, but endeared him regardless. 

Felix seemed to be juggling six pots, pans and bowls, food spilled on the counter and the faint smell of burning was what greeted him at the door. “Felix, my love?”

He called as he walked in, hanging up his coat and shucking off his shoes, going up behind his boyfriend and wrapping his hands around the smaller man’s waist. “What is this?”

Felix set everything down on the counter, turning around to give Chase a kiss and looking severely put out. 

“Robbie,” he whined. “It was supposed to be a surprise, and good, and be fantastic and awesome and it didn’t happen.”

He was pouting and giving Robbie puppy dog eyes and it felt so good to come home and be Robbie, himself, not Chase, like his father. He hummed at his partner, swaying with him and ignoring the half-hearted flails and whines to go back to the cooking.

“How about we get some take out and we’ll clean this up in the morning?” He asked, distracting the man with kisses along his freckles and pulling him impossibly closer, flushed to his hips.

Felix looked like he wanted to argue before moaning into the kiss and pulling Robbie closer. “Okay.”

They made their way over to the couch, Felix lying in Robbie’s arms while they argued over what to watch and whether Hannibal or Will was cuter. All in all it felt domestic, it felt like home. He was warm and comfortable, his brain to mouth filter had gone by now. A few too many drinks and shared thoughts about getting railed by Hannibal ensured it, but even he didn’t think he’d be this stupid.

He opened his mouth and without thinking too much about it he asked, “Will you marry me Felix?”

Felix bolted upright, jostling a sleepy Robbie who had Felix lying on top of him and was running his fingers through the smaller man’s hair, the key word being was.

“Are you serious?” Felix asked, wide eyed. He looked on the verge of tears, but the smile on his face betrayed his emotions in a second.

It took a moment for Chase to realise what he’d said, jerking himself awake. “Yeah.” He finally breathed out, suddenly breaking into a grin.

“Yeah.” Before either of them can stop it, they’re breaking out into hysterical laughter, is this what being in love is like? Chase has never felt anything as close, he wants to feel it for the rest of his life. 

“Yeah?” Chase smiles, jumping up and running to their room. He runs back out in record time, narrowly missing the coffee table and getting down on one knee just in time to see Felix sprint out of the kitchen. He opens the box up, showing the reasonable sized rock he’d gotten Felix, hoping to god that he’d like it. Felix took one look at the ring before bursting out into tears. 

“Will you be my husband?” Chase asked, smiling sheepishly. “I know it’s not a grand proposal and we just had take out and it’s on our-”

Felix shut him up with a kiss which definitely distracted Chase, then opened his own box. “As long as you’ll be mine.”

The ring Felix has chosen is beautiful, there’s no other way to describe it. It is so perfectly them. On the inside the engraving reads ‘for my silly duck’, the outside a rose gold and encrusted with tiny diamonds. Chase let out a wet sob, sliding Felix’s ring onto his hand. The inscription on his reads ‘for my post-it note hero’ and he cannot wait to spend the rest of his life with this man.

They don’t do much for the rest of the night, as the excitement and nervous energy runs down they sit examining their rings, half watching the tv and both fall asleep on the couch. They both wake up a little too late, but Felix doesn’t have to go into work until midday so he packs Chase’s lunch and sends him off to work with a kiss and a goodbye to his fiance. 

God it still made them both giddy. The team noticed as Chase walked in, earlier than usual with a spring in his step, Foreman making a crude comment about getting laid and Cameron just smiling awkwardly, obviously agreeing with Foreman’s assessment but unable to say it.

“So who asked?” House asked, walking in the room and glancing at Chase's inconspicuously hidden hand, that neither fellow had noticed. 

“It was a joint effort.” He smiled giddily just thinking of the night before as House made gagging sounds and the other two congratulated him. He got a thump on the back from Foreman, an awkward hug from Cameron, an even more awkward bout of advice from Wilson and a happy congratulations from Cuddy. Word spread around the hospital like wildfire, but he didn’t care.

He was getting married. He had a fiance.

He pulled out his lunch, sitting alone at a table, wanting to see what Felix had packed him. As expected a little note flew out of the bag and landed on the table in front of him, it all seemed to be going his way. 

‘To my duckling, my darling fiance’, it read, Chase’s heart skipped a beat at the word, ‘I love you with all my butt. I would say my heart, but it is just not as big.’ 

He laughed at his boyfriend’s crude sense of humor and big gluteus maximus Felix had given the duck in pencil, placing the note in his locker right next to the photo of their first date. The next photo to go up would be a photo of them at town hall, too excited to wait, along with a photo from their first dance and the traditional cake fight. 

He couldn’t be happier, with what Felix called them his ‘Little Notes For Robbie’.

[longinglambs]

The,,,boys they fuckinf did this to me yOU WONT BELIEVE THIS SHIT- so I went to a deadzone cabin for a DAY AND I MISS FUCKINF EVERYTHING, anyway SINCE I SAW SOME THINGS WITH ATEEZ AND THEIR NEW HAIR COLORS,,hehe I'M LOOKING- I said fuck it it's been a while why not ;)

Story Name: butterfly kisses

Ship: Poly!Ateez everyone x everyone :] Description: The boys discuss their newest hair colors, but not after catching Seonghwa with a INJURY- worried ramblings happen and comfort for the cure.

Seonghwa recently practiced too hard lately and hurt his hip, Ateez has always been prone to injuries- but it always downed the whole group, especially since it was so CLOSE to comeback. Seonghwa was of course upset he loved Dancing, it was something he held dear to his heart- he met everyone by dancing and singing and he felt blessed that he chose to do what he loved,,and got to meet all of his loves.

The first one to find out of course was Hongjoong, it was impossible he wouldn't- he always has a hawk eye on the group. Immediately he reacted with a soft " Hey Hwa? Does your hips hurt?? " he nervously whispers back " is it obvious? " Hongjoong then widens his eyes and says " Why have you not gotten it CHECKED Seonghwa?? " he knew he was upset by his tone, he wasnt gonna take it personally though because he KNEW how much Hongjoong truly cared. He was just scared for the eldest, worried.

Seonghwa looked up to see they were caught- Wooyoung was staring at them " neh what's wrong with Hyung?? " he asks Hongjoong with a worried frown. Hongjoong and Seonghwa hold a gaze for a second- it was obviously a " we promised to tell eachother everything I can't NOT tell them " it didn't help that Seonghwa knew exactly how that felt, Jongho and Mingi both have got injured and had to sit out and he hated it, he just wanted to dance with them again- Ateez can only be Ateez with all 8 of them.

Seonghwa spoke up to the practice room " I think,,I may have sprained my hip,," all the boys in the room immediately crowded to Seonghwa " Guys I'm sure it's a sprain its nothi- " he was quickly interrupted " yOU KNOW HOW A SPRAIN CAN END UP WORSE WHEN NOT TREATED " Woo shouted obviously upset. Jongho nodded pouting slightly, and Mingi yelled a " YEAH ", Yunho looked down at Seonghwa very very sadly " hyung,,," Yeosang held on lightly to the back of Seonghwa's shirt, he wasn't the best at talking for comfort, he WAS good at giving touch for comfort though. San pouted loudly " Hyung you know we care more about you than the comback!!! Atiny would say so too! " he knew that, he just missed Atiny a lot, and wanted to preform so bad. He looked at his array of boys and said " I'll get it checked out I promise ".

And so he did. He was right. It was a sprain. He came home that night to 7 boys all staring at him " so? " San said rising lightly from the couch of boys, his sweater engulfing the boy. San wasn't tiny, not even a bit but he loved His boyfriends sweaters. " it's a sprain- I knew it was " he sighed walking to the couch, " Come here Hyung, let us give you some love " Seonghwa melted at the thought. He softly fell onto the couch and got absolutely swarmed. It started with the biggest of the boys, softly moving his hair out of his face and smooching his cheeks, he giggled at the sentiment. Hongjoong gave him a peck on the lips and gave him kissed all over his face and hands, Wooyoung wrapped his arm around Seonghwas and said " you know all my teasing is just for fun right? You know I love you a lot right Hyung ?? " he says tearing up lightly " oh Woo I know, I know- " he cups his face and gives Woo a gentle kiss " I'm confident you love me, as I love all of you " Hongjoong wandered over and brought his head to Seonghwa and nuzzled it against his. " I love you Seonghwa,," " I love you too Hongjoong " he kissed Hongjoongs nose, Hongjoong giggled and switched with Jongho. Normally you wouldnt be able to tell this but Jongho was pouting. He never pouted- hes always been the tough it out kind of guy, Seonghwa said sadly " are you upset with Hyung? " Jongho looked into Seonghwa eyes with endearment " I'm not upset with you, I'm upset because you are hurt " San came up beside Jongho and said " None of us are upset with you, we were just worried Hyung ". Seonghwa really wanted to cry, he knew it was dumb but he just was always so full of love and happiness with his boys. He brought both of them into a hug and kissed San on the mouth and Jongho on the cheek. Jongho gave him a small smile before backing off with San to make room for Yeosang.

Yeosang crawled to him and gave Seonghwa a hug making sure to avoid his waist, he laid his head into his Hyungs neck and said " I love you " he brought his head back up and looked into Seonghwas eyes, Seonghwa moved Yeosangs long hair " I love you too Yeosang,, " then Seonghwa noticed " hey what, are we gonna do with our hair for this comeback? " immediately Mingi said " I WANNA DO AN UNDERCUT! " Seonghwa choked " y-you wanna get aN UNDERCUT???? " " I mean last time I checked it looked hot on you " Seonghwa choked again. Yunho said " I kinda wanna try what Hongjoong did in Wave but like when it faded " he smiled " You wanna do pink? Then I'll do your blue from Wave " " OOO MATCHING AGAIN " Yunho exclaimed happily Wooyoung screamed back " I'm keeping my hair black hehe!! " " I'm doing natural too!! " San said back to Woo, Seonghwa said " I'm thinking a softer color then this, maybe a grayish color?" I'll keep my hair long re bleach it blond, maybe,,,,do,,a mullet " Yeosang said softly which got a lot of attention " a- a MULLET HAHA " Mingi laughs, Yeosang totally got karma for making fun of Hongjoongs mullet originally haha. " I wanna dye my hair half red,,like what Mingi did with green way back,," " YOU WANNA DYE YOUR HAIR????? " WOO SHOUTED, Jongho laughed at the outburst " it seems fun why not " " god red?? " what's with us and red " Yeosang questioned " shut up mullet boy " Mingi said " SHUT UP MINGI " " HEY NO FIGHTING DURING CUDDLE TIME " Hongjoong yelled in and got them to quiet not without a few last words" I'll get you back MINGI" " please dont I wanna live, I have so many boyfriends please Yeosang MERCY " Yeosang scoffed and said " buy me chicken then your blood will stay in your body " Mingi smiled back " Deal "

They all took their turns taking showers and wandering to a single room to have a complete cuddle pile, these only happened when all the boys felt really down or really happy- okay so they happened pretty much when anything happened- even when they were angry at eachother BAM cuddle pile. Seonghwa being the last out of the shower to join the boys in Yunho and Sans specially assigned room, at times like this they just blew up inflatable mattresses god knows how long itd take to get a mattress to fit ALL FUCKING 8 OF THEM. BUT it would also be too obvious what all their relationship was if they all shared a bed, or maybe not- Korea was kinda ignorant in that aspect but Hongjoong and Seonghwa were way too nervous that if someone found out it would KILL their reputation and everything they worked for. So a simple inflatable mattress would have to do, and it did well. Yunho crawled out the bed to put a background noise movie on, cuddle piles meant all attention on eachother, you dont need to talk, you can just bask in the touch and get head pats and just slowly drift to sleep or get mind numbed by the touch, it was just a great way to relax for a lot of the groups overthinkers. It started with meaningless talk, Mingi telling childhood stories about how one time he ate a bug and then cried and since then has been scared of all bugs, Yunho talked about his younger sibling, how when they were born everything just came naturally, Seonghwa came in and talked about how he was the youngest and all the things he used to get away with, they all had soft laughs before they got to the affection stage of the cuddle pile.

It starts with one of the members patting ones head, another kissing ones cheek, it's just a surplus of touching and affection and it's fantastic. Yeosang is the one instantly out with these effects, and Hongjoong is as well, he always falls asleep really easily but head rubs knocked him out. All of them slowly fall asleep, San, Woo, Jongho, Yunho,

then it's just Mingi and Seonghwa. Mingi pats his chest, he knows what this means, it means I am here for you, come here. He has seen it in every single one of them, it's a gesture open to only them. He moved into Mingis chest and breathed in deeply. He smelled of Pine trees, from Jonghos body wash no doubt. His brain became numb in the smell and warmth, the only thought being comfort. It was 1 am and they all had to get their hair done at 6, but for now he was home, he was with his lovers.

And then it was, Seonghwa, and Mingi.

Guess who finished this this at 1 am?? ThIS PERSON HAHA- but once i write i dont stop so HAJSJWJ I havent written in a long while and I think this takes the cake??? Anyway it's kind of Seonghwa Centric on total accident, also I'm sure the timing is off- I'm sure Seonghwas injury was known after he dyed his hair and That Yunho filmed his news earlier before they dyed their hair BUT FORGET THAT SHIT I said NO SENSE ONLY SOFT KISSES, will I draw this?? No one knows- i also bet no one knew this account was a personal LMAO THE MORE U KNOW

[theonewiththefanfics]

Loopy Love (one-shot)

Synopsis: Sebastian has finally come back home, but instead of finding his fiance waiting for him at the airport, he gets some bad news.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Warnings: nothing really, mby minor swearing

Genre: flooooffff

Word count: 2317

   Sebastian was ecstatic. He had just landed in JFK after three months of filming ‘I Tonya’, finally being able to go home, rest, but most of all, enjoy his time with his soon-to-be wife Y/N. A giant smile appeared on his face as he went towards the greeting area, thinking how she’d be there, probably in her pj’s, as it was two in the morning, a groggy look on her face, yet feet bouncing from excitement.    The slide doors opened to reveal a small group of fans and he gladly went over to them signing autographs and taking pictures. There were even a couple of paparazzi, but the flashing lights didn’t matter much to him at that moment.    “Have you guys seen Y/N?” he asked the gathered people, only to receive shakes of heads and some turns as they looked around the terminal.    Sebastian frowned since he had clearly talked to her only a few minutes before his flight took off, and even though he had told the woman to stay at the apartment, she insisted on coming to get him. He checked his phone, but there were no calls no texts.    “Maybe she’s in Starbucks?” one younger girl suggested.    His small smile broke into a grin and a laugh. That was how they had met, or more so re-connected. Sebastian had physically knocked her over, spilling piping hot coffee on a woman’s white blouse. But when he had started to profusely apologise, telling how he’d get it dry-cleaned and he would buy the stranger a new shirt, instead of the usual response you get from people in New York, there was no yelling. Soft palms cupped his unshaven cheeks bringing their eyes to meet.    “Holy shit, Y/N?” he had breathed out.    “I think it should be holy shit Sebastian Stan,” she had chuckled in response before he engulfed her in a giant bear hug.    “I’m sticky already, don’t need your sweat on me,” Y/N laughed at him and their state as her grip around the man’s shoulders tightened, not caring about his dirty workout clothes pressing against her.    When they pulled back, all thoughts about the ruined blouse or the fact she was going to be late to a meeting had escaped her mind, every fibre focusing on the man in front. “I think we need to catch up, Hollywood.”    “Yeah,” he gave her a breathless response, as his blue eyes roamed over the woman who had been his best friend in high school and also he'd had the biggest crush on her for years, “fuck, yeah we do.”

   And then things sorta happened from there. He had very nervously asked her out, having woken her up in the middle of the night, barging in her apartment to which she had given him a spare key and practically shouting the question at her, scaring the woman to death. After a few minutes when Y/N had felt her heart was not going in cardiac arrest she punched Sebastian with one of the plush pillows that surrounded the bed, until they both fell back, white sheets engulfing the pair and laughter echoing through the room. His large arms had wrapped around the girl’s smaller frame, one palm setting on her bare waist, where her t-shirt had ridden up and he drew slow circles against the skin. They had fallen asleep like that, entangled in one another’s limbs and as the morning sun broke over the New York City skyline, Sebastian had leant in pressing a kiss to Y/N’s nose right before she turned her head up and connected their lips.    “I didn’t know you were awake,” he mumbled, not at all complaining about the surprise.    “It’s kinda hard to sleep when people are ogling at you.”    “I wasn’t ogling, I was admiring.”    “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” she pecked his lips once more, and muttered a quiet ‘creep’.    That had been the happiest day of the actor’s life. Up until he had proposed and she’d said yes. And it didn’t hurt that the fans absolutely adored her and them together. Of course, there were exceptions, but luckily they were few and far in-between, so he knew, that if Y/N was truly at the airport, she’d have had conversations with practically everybody.    “ ‘M sorry guys, but I have to go,” he said going to his calls and pressing Y/N’s number, but when he got no response, it made him increasingly worried.    He looked further through his contacts and found Anna’s number- Y/N’s editor and best friend. There was no way she didn’t know what had happened to his girl, they were practically attached to the hip during the final edits of Y/N’s upcoming sequel to her best-selling novel.    “Hey Seb,” she answered after the third ring. “What’s up?” a certain tone laced her words and the man wasn’t sure he liked it.    “Hi, yeah, where is Y/N? Is she okay? She said she’d be here to pick m-“ but his words were interrupted by a loud ‘woohoo’ and Anna shushing whoever it was.    “Was that Y/N?” he questioned further, hailing a cab and giving the man his home address.    “Uh, yeah, listen, so here’s the deal,” Anna spoke before moving away from the phone. ‘Y/N shut up, it’s the middle of the night’ was heard and then she returned to the call. “We are kinda sorta at the hospital.”    Sebastian’s blood instantly ran cold, his heart skipping a beat. “What? Why? What happened? Which hospital?”    “St. Mary’s. She’s fine, as you can hear,” and he did, as another loud ‘woo’ went through the phone. “Y/N started feeling very ill a few hours before your flight landed, so against her wishes I called an ambulance. Seriously stop it,” Anna said to what he could only imagine was Y/N misbehaving. “Her appendix burst. They did the operation, she’s fine, recovering, but I don’t know what they pumped into her, it’s like she’s on crack.”    Sebastian’s mind somewhat calmed down after hearing that everything was if not okay, then decent. “I’ll quickly put away the luggage and will be there in a few.”    “Yes, please,” Anna’s voice was almost desperate. He said goodbye with a chuckle and disconnected the call.    It took him less than an hour and a half to get home, quickly change and throw his stuff in the corner of the living room. In ten minutes Sebastian was stepping out of a cab and walking into St. Mary’s.    “Hi, I’m looking for a Y/N Y/L/N? She was admitted a few hours ago, burst appendix.”    The nurse looked through some stuff on the computer, before glancing back up at the man.    “Your relation to her?”    “Fiance.”    She hummed before clicking a few buttons.    “Room 482.”    “Thank you,” Sebastian quickly flashed her a smile and went on the search. A notification popped up on his phone that said ‘Y/IG/N’ was going live.    “Oh, no,” he mumbled pressing the screen to open it up.    The first thing he heard was a loud ‘I looooooove my boyfriend’. From the angle, the video was being taken he knew Anna was filming and you could clearly hear the other woman giggling.    “Really?” she asked Y/N. “And what do you love about him?”    “Everything,” the tone of her voice was as if she was saying ‘did you really just let that come out of your mouth’. “He’s perfect!” she threw her arms in the air and immediately cried out in pain. Sebastian cringed. He hated seeing the love of his life in any kind of discomfort. Whenever her periods rolled around cramps making the woman sometimes feel even nauseous, he did everything in his power to alleviate the hurt. Hot water bottles, rubbing her lower back and tummy, anything to help her feel better.    “Stop flailing around,” Anna scolded her and Y/N pouted in response.    “I love his eyes,” she suddenly continued as if nothing had happened. “Like, when I wake up and he wakes up it’s the first thing I see and I love it. I hope our kids have his eyes,” the loopy girl rambled on, making the man’s heart soar. They had talked about kids, but her voice was so confident so sure, he could feel nothing but love.    “I looooove his smile,” Y/N even groaned as she said it. “Don’t matter- half smile, smirk, or that big huge grin of his- he’s happy, I love it. Oh, and when his eyes wrinkle in the corners, it’s just the best.”    People had noticed the man in question had joined in on the live stream itself and they were chatting, sending messages, laughing emojis at him and Y/N. All the comments seemed to be incredibly positive and Sebastian smiled at it.    Anna had tagged him in a message making him snort. ‘please tell me you ain’t far’ it read.     ‘looking for the room. be there in 5’ he quickly typed back and stepped into the elevator.    “Hey, pretty nurse!” Y/N called out making his jaw drop at how she was basically cat-calling this poor woman. “Do you think this bed is big enough for two? My boyfriend is gonna be home and I wanna sleep next to him.”    Luckily the med staff seemed to be more amused rather than annoyed by her antics and actually played along.    “Miss Y/L/N, you need rest. He is welcome to visit and help to take care of you, but I don’t think that would be a good idea.”    There was a loud whine as she threw her head back, Y/E/C eyes closed and what looked like tears rolling down her cheeks.    “But I wanna hug him. I haven’t hugged or kissed him in three months. I need to go to the airport and pick him up. I need to cuddle Seb.” At this point Y/N was full on crying, clutching tightly onto a white pillow and pressing her face in it. “I miss him,” Sebastian now heard it not only from his phone but in life as well. He rounded a corner and there she was, laying in a hospital bed and bawling her eyes out.    “It’s okay baby,” he chuckled, tears brimming his own eyes after finally seeing his girl, “I’m home. You can hug me anytime you want.”    “Sebby?” there was disbelief written across her features, but then it morphed into excitement and she tried to leap out of the bed.    “God, damn it, Y/N! Stop being an idiot!” Anna pushed the woman’s shoulders back to the sheets, but she kept struggling, making grabby hands at her boyfriend.    “You scared me, doll,” he muttered in her skin, the man’s nose hidden in the crook of her neck as he finally enveloped Y/N in his touch.    “ ‘M sorry baby. I told Anna I was fine to come and get you but she was an asshole.”    Her body shook with cries and he held onto her tighter until everything subsided, until suddenly Y/N, with a blank expression on her face, pushed him away and looked Sebastian over.    “You have a moustache,” she declared.    “Uh, yeah?” it came out more like a question than a statement. "You already knew that."    Y/N softly went to brush it over before her small palm completely covered his face pressing against it to create as much distance as possible.    “I don’t like it.”    “What?” the word was muffled by her covering his mouth.    “Lose the stash, Stan. Immediately”    Out of all the things that would come out of Y/N’s mouth this was the last he expected.    “Is it that bad?” he suppressed a smile seeing how her face turned into a frown. Her hand went to caress his cheek, the engagement ring glinting in the artificial lights.    “I want the scruff. Or a beard. Not the pedo-stache. Looks weird.” Suddenly she looked at Anna, who was still filming the whole thing. “I take it back, I don’t love everything about him, I hate that caterpillar above his lip.”    The phone he had clutched in his hands flooded with notifications, as the fans laughed their assess off and Sebastian himself couldn’t contain the joy.    “Whatever you want, darling. ‘M just glad you’re alright.”    Y/N removed her palm from his face. “Whatever I want?” an eyebrow shot up.    “Yes, honey. Anything.”    In a theatrical manner, she extended a finger. “One- you’re gonna stay here,” the girl showed her tongue to the nurse who could only roll her eyes, “two- I want fries. Now.”    “Tomorrow, baby. You know you can’t eat anything.”    “But I want them!” she whined pulling away from Sebastian and crossing her arms. “I hate you,” she pouted.    The actor sighed looking up at the white ceiling before glancing at Anna and the phone she was still holding.    “Why don’t you go home? Get some rest, I’ll call you when she’s back to normal.”    Y/N’s best friend snorted, but nodded, ending the Instagram live which had already gone viral and exiting the room, leaving Sebastian with his fiancée who was acting like a toddler. He talked to the nurse for a little while, getting all the info he needed in how to take care of the girl and her dietary restrictions for the next two weeks before they were left all alone.    “You really hate me?” there was nothing sad or hurtful in the way he said it, amusement glinting in his cerulean orbs while they took in Y/N. There were dark bags underneath her eyes and her skin had gotten paler than it usually was, having lost the colour from the pain, but to him, she was still beautiful.    “No,” she mumbled, extending her arms out. “I wanna snuggle.”    And Sebastian complied without a word, gently laying down on his side, arms sliding to the back of Y/N’s neck and tenderly pulling her to him.    “Sleep, baby. You need to rest.”    “Promise there’ll be fries when I wake up?”    “Promise.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take, sorry): @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @pizzarollpatrol @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn @lumelgy @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @palaiasaurus64 @coal000 @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611 @horrorx570ximagines @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @pooslie @itsisabelanotisabella @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers 

A/N: just wanted to write something cute :D also, first Seb fic, so yayyy!!

P.S. tell me what you think :)

P.S.S. if you wanna be tagged or have any requests, drop a message :)

P.S.S.S. please don’t repost without credit :)

[mintyvan]

21 - Flip For It

filling the request Jealous van, makeup sex with van, anything bondy-related, reader can’t decide between van + bondy, and van teaches you how to play guitar. Rated M for the smut!

summary The reader is Van's girlfriend, but she quickly falls for Bondy too. Van is jealous, Bondy is eager, the band is about to go on tour; who will she choose?

note this is the longest thing I’ve ever written, at 17825 words. Grab a cuppa and sit yourself down for this one. I thoroughly loved writing this. Enjoy!

___________________

“Van, I CANNOT do this!” you yell as your hand painfully slips off the guitar strings again. “My fingers have been cramping for hours, and I don’t even know if this thing is tuned correctly.”

He had been standing at the kitchen counter making tea, and he turned around and sat a cup down in front of you. “Have a break if you need it, love. But I know you can do it. Gotta be positive and all that.” He stood over you, bad posture taking a few inches off his height.

With a huff of frustration, you state, “But you said it yourself that most people quit after a few weeks! I don’t wanna be like that.” You look up at his clear blue eyes, the dissatisfaction clear on your face.

You had been Van’s girlfriend for years now, and watching him play guitar with the boys on tour (when you were invited to come see them for a few days) was one of your favorite memories. At night in hotel rooms, they’d bring out a few acoustics with Bob tapping on pots and pans or hotel room tables when all his gear was locked in the other rooms. They’d sing and play and dance until the early hours of the morning when one of the tour managers would come in and banish everyone to their respective rooms with a “You all have to be up in four hours! What are you thinking?”. Out of everyone, you were the least musically inclined; you always got that hot feeling in your cheeks when a new friend of the band’s handed you a guitar thinking you played too. The blush would creep up on your chest and your cheeks and you had to pretend it was because Van was still wooing you with his prodigious musical ability - which he was, granted - but you didn’t want to let him know how much it affected you to feel incredibly inferior to him in every aspect in music. After all, music was his entire life, and you had been desperate to avoid any contact with it until now.

You had always wanted to learn an instrument but never had the time to learn how to play. There were the fourth grade piano lessons, but those lasted about a week and a half before you quit because your fingers weren’t long enough to do octaves, and all the classical songs you wanted to learn required that you could do that. When all your friends were in the school chorus or band or orchestra, you were taking the other elective classes that interested you more than the chance to potentially and eventually fail again at music.

That insecurity was still rooted deeply in you as you grappled at the frets and struggled to strum the chords; after Van tried to teach you melody, he realized a better fit for inexperienced you would be rhythm, and set you to learning some of the easier parts in songs you both loved, not to much avail.

“Honey, come to bed,” Van whispered a few hours later, peeking out of his room across the hall from Larry’s. You had been working tirelessly through the evening and into the night, watching how-to videos on Youtube and trying to remember the patterns of fingers and strums while Van, Larry, and Bondy shared a few drinks and played Fifa; their activities were practically the same regardless of whether they were on tour. It was all a blur to you as you concentrated hard.

“A few more minutes, I’ve almost got this one part I think,” you replied, placing your tongue between your lips again in concentration, fingers trying to hold the strings down. Your eyes were starting to go in and out of focus from exhaustion.

“Right. See you in a few.” He tiptoed over, careful not to make the floorboards creak, and kissed you on the cheek softly before heading back to his bedroom.

****

Bondy’s heavy footfalls on the linoleum kitchen floor woke you. The tiny night-light above the sink cast an orangey glow across his chiseled features as he stepped around the table to reach the fridge. After pouring himself a glass of water, he sensed your gaze, and his bare feet padded over to you.

You hadn’t realized that you’d fallen asleep with the guitar cradled in your arms, and you only noticed as Bondy started to softly chuckle as he picked up your feet from the couch and put them on the coffee table so he could take a seat next to you.

“Still trying to pick it up?” he asked, in reference to playing the guitar. You nodded sleepily as he took it from you and started to play it quietly, and almost absentmindedly. The guitar looked like it belonged in his arms, as if it were an extension of him. He played it easily, though his eyes were heavy-lidded.

Suddenly, you decided to vent the frustrations you were harboring about guitar. Maybe it was the cover of night, or Bondy’s comforting presence next to you. Or the countless hours you’d practiced with Van, all for nothing. But something was making you speak out for once.

“Van’s not the best teacher - I mean, he plays really well, but I don’t think what he’s telling me is getting through to me. May I?” You nod to the glass of water on the table, questioning, and Bondy nods back, indicating you could take a sip. After washing away the feeling of sleep from your mouth, you continue. “I just don’t get it. I’ve never been good at music. I think it’s ‘cause I have a different way of thinking than most people. I mean, not super different, but just a little backwards or maybe I see other patterns than what I’m supposed to. And, God, I’m bored all the time. I need something to do to pass the time.” Your voice got quieter.  “And I’m just embarrassed every time some of you start playing and I can’t take part. I feel like an outsider or something.” You looked down at your hands folded in your lap and twiddled your thumbs.

Bondy listened quietly to your confused ramble, and when you were finished, he said, “Maybe I could teach you the basics. Sometimes it can help to just forget everything you’ve heard and start again from scratch.”

You nodded your head, and considered. Glancing at the digital clock numbers glowing bright blue on the end table, and realizing you still had a couple of hours left until you really had to go to sleep, you nodded as Bondy handed the guitar back to you and started explaining everything from a true beginner’s perspective.

*****

“Babe! Ya never came to bed last night,” Van said, a little disappointed, to your almost-lifeless body on the couch as he strutted into the living room. He was wearing the white button down (your favorite), black jeans, black suede boots, and that black belt with a big square silver buckle. His hair was washed clean and his reflective sunglasses were perched on the bridge of his nose. Grabbing his keys and then popping a quick kiss on your lips, he exited through the door to the driveway. Shortly after, Larry emerged from his room, Bondy in tow, the both of them looking exceptionally cleaned-up as well.

You tossed off the blanket that was laying over your legs and headed for the bedroom to get changed. Today half the band was doing an acoustic session on the radio near where Van and Larry lived, hence Bondy’s overnight stay. You were excited about this performance - you had never seen them sing and play on the radio, let alone even been in a radio station, so you were bright-eyed and curious as you drove up to the radio station behind Van’s car-full of lads.

Arriving at the station, you marveled at all the wires and microphones and equipment snaking around chairs and tables in the room. The walls were completely soundproof between the studio and the outer rooms, allowing no sound to come out from inside the transparent box, and prompting Larry to cut up with you while the boys were preparing to speak. He kept making faces and yelling things at you from behind the glass, which you couldn’t hear, until Van smacked him on the arm and told him to go wait outside with you until they were done setting up.

Occupying a chair next to Larry in the back corner of the radio booth as the band and the radio hosts sat down and placed headphones on their heads, readying the equipment for on-air, you felt a little useless. You wondered if this is how Larry felt some days on tour, his job as guitar tech typically being given to hired sound people at festivals; taping setlists and carrying water out to the stage didn’t seem like fulfilling time, but you knew he enjoyed other aspects of the job too. You almost felt bad for him, and empathized with his need to act silly sometimes to get people’s attention; especially when Van told him to “shut the fuck up” earlier as Larry was bantering with Joe, preventing him from doing his job. You realized this faux “all-business” attitude Van fell into was probably why Larry enjoyed your company, and why Van may have been eager to bring you along sometimes. Their love-hate relationship was obvious.

Soon the band started the interview, with Van speaking up most of the time; you loved the way he told the host exactly what he was thinking, and didn’t hold back at all. Confidence emanated from him, and today he spoke with flourishing hand gestures. The slight tone of his muscles was peeking through the white fabric stretched over his shoulders, and you couldn’t help but think he looked incredibly sexy. You bit your lip so as not to let a rogue facial expression betray your thoughts.

The interview passed relatively quickly, and you were pleased to see what everyone looked like in action, promoting their content. You could tell they truly loved what they did, and how much they appreciated fans’ support. As they stood from their chairs to perform, the radio host played a short song over the radio so they could go off-air to prepare.

Bondy took his guitar from the stand, and made direct eye contact with you and motioned for you to watch his hands. Then he nodded his head towards Van’s hands, and with that gesture essentially told you to spot the difference. Van noticed the nonverbal interaction between you and Bondy, and cocked an eyebrow, but if he thought anything of it, he didn’t say.

They played the regulars - 7, Cocoon, and Kathleen - and wowed the radio hosts, as usual. Normally, you would have been excited to just watch Van sing, but listening to how the acoustic guitars blended the sounds together piqued your interest in not just Van’s vocals, but how fluid his rhythmic hand movements were in matching Bondy’s melodic ones. You noticed how both men played the same chords, but Van strummed in a sort of “backup guitar” fashion under Bondy’s perfect plucking. Never before had you noticed what real talent Bondy had, since previously you’d avoided even looking at musical instruments, and it fascinated you.

At the end of the session, you congratulated the both of them on a job well done as they walked outside the heavy black doors of the studio for a smoke.

“So glad we have a few more days off before the next appearance,” Bondy sighed, exhaling a cloud of smoke skyward.

“No, mate, we’ve got that fancy party tomorrow night to celebrate the year anniversary of the album’s release. We’re booked in that club, you know the one that’s like an underground bar, and though they said no outside people would be allowed in, ya know they let ‘em in for revenue an’ all that,” Van replied, snaking a cigarette out of the box. He held it daintily between his long fingers, seeming to barely touch it at all. It floated around as he spoke with his hands.

Bondy rolled his eyes in defeat, crunching his boots on the asphalt. “Is that the one where we have to dress up a little, like the Brits? Photo ops and the like?” You tried to stifle a laugh, but you choked out a giggle. You loved the way Catfish thought they had to dress up only “a little” for the Brits.

“No, that one’s in a few weeks. This one’s casual.” He fumbled around for his lighter, patting his jacket pockets, then his pants pockets. “Got a light, love?” You handed Van your lighter, both of your hands brushing together, causing you to blush. Still, years later, every little thing he did made your heart flutter. “Oh, almost forgot, we gonna practice guitar tonight?” he asked as he lit the cigarette.

Your eyes immediately went to Bondy, but he was studying the asphalt beneath his boots. You hadn’t told Van yet that you decided against him being your guitar teacher.

Looking back at Van, you realized you’d have to say yes, otherwise he’d know something had changed. You’d been so eager to have Van teach you before, and had even told him one of the many personal tales of chagrin you felt regarding your musicless childhood. You practically begged him to teach you in his spare time, which he could be using for other, more entreating activities while off tour.

You rationalized in your head. Having Bondy teaching you guitar was not wrong, but somehow you felt guilty because you’d asked Van and convinced him to forego other events. Not to mention Van hated when people went behind his back for even the smallest of offenses - you took Larry and the jaffa cake incident as a perfect illustration of this. To avoid hurting his feelings, you just smiled and said, “Course, babe,” to Van with the most positivity you could manage.

*****

“Ye can’t let him try to force the chord patterns on you. Remember what I told you - remember sounds above everything,” Bondy’s voice crackled through the receiver. You were lying backwards on Van’s bed, feet propped up on the pillows, twirling your keys around your fingers.

“I know, I know. It’ll be fine,” you tell him. “I won’t forget what you’ve already taught me.” A pause crept up, and you didn’t know what to say. You settled on a friendly “See ya later” to break the awkwardness of saying goodbye; you hated speaking on the phone for this very reason. You gladly hung up, and as you waited for Van and Larry to come home from afternoon grocery shopping, you decided to casually scroll through Instagram. You missed being able to freely post what you wanted to; all your old friends were posting selfies with their partners, recording silly videos, and showing off their love. Being Van’s girlfriend meant that you couldn’t really post anything about him without having to reveal your relationship to the public, and Van was an extremely private person, particularly wary of social media. Sometimes you wish you had a relationship with someone whose love you could also share with the world, like Chrissy Teigen and John Legend.

Your train of thought was interrupted by the sounds of Van and Larry busting into the house with giant paper bags crunching as they tried to carry all of the groceries inside. Van’s laugh echoed down the hall as Larry tried to juggle some fruit, and failed, as told by the muffled thumps on the floor.

Van jogged from the kitchen to the bedroom, and seeing you on the bed, exclaimed a cheery “Hello, love!” midair as he jumped onto it, landing to hover above you. He rubbed the tip of his nose across yours. You put your phone down and placed a hand on his neck, guiding his lips to yours. His long fingers brushed over your hair and down your neck, tickling your collarbone. Breaking the kiss, you replied with a simple, “Hi,” and a smile, and looked into his eyes. They were darkening to a deep indigo by the second. You caught onto his mood, and a smirk was shared between the two of you. His lips reconnected with yours, and the kiss deepened. He lowered himself over you, and his knee went between your legs as one of his hands slid underneath the small of your back. The other was starting to slink up your shirt, and as his fingers trailed higher up your stomach, he placed an open mouthed kiss on your neck, causing you to suck in a sharp breath of air and arch your back.

“That’s fuckin’ gross, mate!” Larry yelled at the sight of both of you on the bed through the open bedroom door. He couldn’t help but awkwardly smile in embarrassment as he stepped through the doorway to reach for the knob and close it behind him, leaving you and Van to indulge in each other.

****

The next morning you awakened to soft kisses being pressed to your shoulder. Remembering the night you and Van shared, you smiled and kissed Van’s hair.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” Van whispered when he felt the contact. From his position, legs intertwined in yours and cuddled into your side, he was at eye level with you for once. You loved when he did this; you felt so connected to him, especially with one side of his body running the length of yours. You didn’t have to crane your neck to kiss him, either. It was perfect. His arms were wrapped around your naked torso, and his skin was warm in the silk sheets. You recalled when he bought them for you at a specialty boutique:

“I’m picky ‘bout my linens. Gotta have the best for me girlfriend and me, we’re gonna be spending a lot of time in the bedroom,” he told the shop worker with a wink. Your cheeks burned red all the way out to the car as Van whisked the shopping bags off the counter with a crooked grin.

Unfortunately, you knew the morning’s cuddling had to be cut short. In order to be able to attend the band’s party tonight, you had to reschedule the dinner you had with your mother for lunchtime, and she was not keen on her children being late to family events. Actually, she wasn’t keen on anything or anyone at all.

You parted from Van in a sad huff as you told him you had to get ready for lunch with your “pain-in-the-arse” mother; he whined from loss of contact. The silken sheets pooled around his waist as you rose from your side of the bed, and his abs rippled when he propped himself up on his elbows. You, still naked, sat on the vanity’s chair to wipe your face with a cloth and prep your skin for makeup.

As you applied moisturizer and primer, you noticed Van’s gaze on you in the mirror. You straightened up your back, and pretended not to notice how ravenous his eyes appeared. While opening drawers as sexily as possible to tease Van a little in retrieving the rest of your makeup, your eyes glanced across a black silk handkerchief in the rear of one of the drawers. Picking it up with your forefinger and thumb, you dangled it in the air beside you, watching Van’s reaction reflected through the glass. His eyes opened wide and his mouth dropped open, and he looked at you incredulously for a moment. You only smirked.

“We’re deffo gonna employ that one day,” he said, just as a voice called for him in the living room.

“God, Larry ruins everythin’.” He chuckled, rose from the sheets that beckoned he stay in bed all day, and pulled a pair of track pants over his legs. He looked fucking beautiful, even in such casual attire. His necklace glinted in the mid-morning light, and his eyes sparkled as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, kissing you on the cheek as his bare chest pressed into your back, his messy hair falling onto your face. “You look lovely. And don’t stress about your mum. She’s not the greatest person, but she’s still your mum, so you got to love her” he said in his raspy morning voice. “See you tonight.”

“Wait!” you called after him. He stopped right before he reached the door. “Aren’t you going to be here this afternoon?”

“Nah, gonna go visit me grandad. His Irish folk band’s on ‘tour’ here this week, and he’s stayin’ near here.”

“Gotcha. Right then, see you tonight hon.”

****

“Y/N, I don’t know why you put me through this much stress,” your mother said as you plopped down in the cafe. She was sitting there, back straight with her driving gloves on. “I waited almost twenty minutes for you! I was about to leave,” she scoffed. In her lavender suit, matching hat and gloves, and pursed lips, she was the picture of cookie-cutter aristocracy. Something you hadn’t wanted anything to do with since she’d remarried.

“Come on Mum, I’m sorry I’m late. Van didn’t wake me up on time this morning.” She gave you a look that said Don’t test me.

“Relying on that boy for everything now! What am I going to do with you,” she sighed, clutching her cup of tea close to her brooched bosom. In spite, the corners of your mouth turned down. Her entire “holier than thou” speech was going to be laced with hypocrisy. You waited for her to continue; she always did. After a few heartbeats, she spoke up again. “You’re going to end up like that fellow Larry. Wind up with nothing someday, without a job or degree when someone replaces him. You should talk to Steve, the baker on the corner. He’s got a job opening. Or your cousin Matilda, in accounting. I’ve asked around town, and they’d all be pleased to have you working for them.”

You cut her off at that. “Mum, I’m not taking pity jobs from you. And I’m not going to end up like Larry! He’s got a stable job, he’s a great guy… And I do my own things, I don’t cling to Van. Plus… I’m just enjoying being young, not having anything pinned down.” Sighing, you sat back in your chair. The waiter came over and took your order, and then realizing the tension in the air, stepped to serve other customers nearby.

Your mother sighed, and sipped her tea. “You were going to go to university, get a prime education, and get a job away from here. I never thought I’d see you posted up like a groupie at that frontman’s flat. Living off his money like a housewife. You were always better than that,” she said, drumming her fingers on the table in front of you. You gasped at her harsh word choice. Your mother had always disapproved of everything that you did because you never did what she wanted, but she had never gone this far to insult you for it. Angry, you leaned forward and looked her directly in the eyes.

“His name is Van,  not “that frontman,” and we’ve been dating for almost five years. He’s been over at our house plenty. You know he’s wonderful. You even liked him before you remarried that guy. I love Van, and I wouldn’t mind being his housewife, anyhow! What is it with you always making me feel bad about myself? And the digging into me right as I arrive today? What have I done to deserve this?” The last part you practically whisper-yelled across the tiny table, trying not to attract the attention you knew your mother craved.

With the force of your voice, and the strain in your heart, your eyes started to sting as you realized a tiny truth behind her words. You just said you wouldn’t mind being his housewife. When you were in school, you wanted to be a doctor. Help people. Do something in the world. Make a difference. Change people’s lives. Your grades in school were good, but the fun of being with Van and the band was everything to you at the time, and his happiness took precedence over yours, so you never graduated.

You’d been trying to deny it, that you weren’t falling into a rhythm with Van where his work and money supported everything you did. But it was happening. You were his dependent. He paid for rent, food, drinks, even your phone bill. Your chest heaved, and your mother started looking at you with interest. She knew she’d struck a chord, and figured her work was done.

“Well then Y/N, let’s change the subject. I’ll tell you about Veronica’s new hair, boy is it god-awful..”

But you didn’t listen to the rest of it. As she spoke about the town gossip, your chest burned with hatred and guilt, and you felt tiny and helpless sitting in the chair in front of your mother. Sobs were threatening to escape, and you were in a public place. You tried to reign in the bitter tingling before your eyes, and a million scenarios were passing through your head. You couldn’t get a well-paying job because you dropped out of school when Van did. You couldn’t live on your own because you didn’t have a job. You couldn’t help with the band because you had no management, sound engineering, or instrument experience. Pigeonholed by your life choices, you couldn’t do anything other than what you were doing currently. And you were stuck. For half a second you considered breaking up with Van as your mother suggested, but the thought of losing him consumed you and made you choke out a sob and interrupt your mother mid-cackle.

“Mum, I’ve got to go.” You resigned yourself from the table, and ran down the steps of the restaurant to the parking lot. You put your car in drive, and let the tears spill. You wove through cars as fast as you could to get back to your only home - unfortunately for the circumstances, Van and Larry’s.

You missed your shot to achieve your dreams. You’re relying on a man for everything you’ve ever wanted. You can’t do anything. You want to give up? Great. It’s the thing you’ve always done, nothing new. Thoughts raced through your head and the tears kept coming as you drove on, but finally you thrust your key into the lock of the house and ran past the living room. It barely registered with you that Bondy was there, sitting at the kitchen table on his phone as you flew past him to the bedroom.

As soon as you slammed the door behind you, you let the tears flow freely, staining the silk sheets possibly permanently with the makeup you’d applied so happily earlier. You cried into the pillows to muffle the sounds, and lamented all in your life that you ruined.

****

A soft knock on the door betrayed the silence you’d immersed yourself in. You’d stopped crying a while ago. You were staring blankly ahead at the door, numb. Unfeeling. Unimpressed.

“Come in,” a monotone voice that didn’t sound like yours answered for you.

Bondy poked his head around the door. “Ah… you want to maybe… play guitar?” His kind, sympathetic eyes revealed that he took pity on your state, curled into the sheets and face thick with runny mascara. He was apprehensive. You probably looked terrifying.

“Okay.” You answered, and closed your eyes. Something dropped onto the sheets next to you. Opening your eyes, you saw it was a packet of makeup wipes.

“Let’s go, then. I’ll ready everything.” He left to get the guitars, and you slowly opened the crinkly package of wipes. You cleaned your face off, realizing mascara had even dripped lines down to your chin. Bondy returned with the guitars, and you forced yourself to cheer up a bit.

Bondy didn’t ask questions, for which you were grateful; you loved that he minded his own business. He started straight into the lesson, handing you a guitar and sitting himself down on the bed next to you.

“So we’ve been over chords a bit, and what sounds they make. Oh, let me see your fingers.” He held a hand out, asking for your left hand. You held it out to him, and he delicately lifted your wrist with one hand and felt the pads of your fingers with another. With a satisfied look, he continued speaking. “You’re getting the roughness you need to hold the strings down. I can tell you’ve been practicing.”

You wanted to look away from him; after the emotions you’d just swung through, having Bondy touch you so delicately, almost intimately, was enough to make you blush.

He noticed, and yet again, said nothing. With a small smile, he asked, “‘Ya listen to Frankie Cosmos?”

“Yeah. Her music is good. Simple, a little weird, but… good.”

“Glad you like it, because her song School is the first you’ll be learning. Super easy.”

He showed you the chords you needed to learn --- E and A, for the most part --- and taught you about bar chords, because she used them in one part of the song. Bondy even took your hand with the pick and strummed the song for you, as you practiced moving your hands over the frets with a chord change. The strings still cut into your skin, but it was easier than before to maneuver around the instrument; it was starting to feel less foreign.

Then, Bondy let you practice on your own for a few minutes, and once you got the general gist of it, he started playing rhythm to back you up, even though the original song didn’t have it. His playing sounded much better than yours, and you still messed up a lot, but it was fun. By the time you had been playing for an hour, a wide smile was plastered to your face. Bondy had taught you two of her songs, and you were eager to attempt the singing-with-a-guitar part.

Before you could, though, Larry walked right past the doorway and saw Bondy, hovering close to your face, smiling and repositioning your hands on the guitar, and your happy expression and tinted cheeks.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, pointedly. You knew it looked worse than it was.

“Teachin’ Y/N how to play guitar,” Bondy said, and you kicked him in the foot.

“What? Thought Van was doing that?” Larry asked, and looked at you for an answer.

“....He is.” You looked back between Bondy and Larry.

“Ah… I’m going out for a smoke.” With that, Bondy left the room.

Larry began once more. “Y/N, I’m gonna ask again, what’s going on here? What would Van think?” Always Van’s lookout.

Hearing his name washed over you all the feelings you’d felt earlier. You had tried not to think about how much being with Van had slid you into a useless niche that felt very permanent, and you wanted to convince yourself that your mother was just exaggerating the role Van had played in your life decisions, but Larry opened the floodgates with the comment that confirmed everything. And so, you lost it.

“What do you mean what would Van think? I’m allowed to learn guitar if I fucking want to. Gonna go tell him behind my back?” God, so many raging emotions you’d felt in the span of a few hours. You could tell Larry was shocked at your tone by his wide eyes and open mouth, but you just couldn’t hold it in anymore. Bondy had distracted you for a while, but it wasn’t long enough to make you genuinely happy.

Larry’s voice rose in pitch. “But the way Bond looks at - Nevermind bout that. You need to be more careful! Secrets aren’t good in this house. Van’s going to be livid if he finds out Bondy’s out here doing this with you.” His voice relayed that he thought a lot more was going on that guitar-playing. You couldn’t believe he thought so lowly of you. You were done with people making assumptions. Your heart hurt and your eyes welled up again as you spit venomous words back at one of your only friends.

“Larry, no offense, but what I do with my free time is none of your goddamn business. Not to mention that this is something I enjoy doing, and I don’t get a lot of that lately. For once I need to do something without Van’s permission! That’s all I’ve done for the last few years! I’ve settled on being his lady in waiting. I don’t even have an income. I couldn’t do anything if it weren’t for Van. My personal dreams are all gone. My dreams were Van’s dreams. They’ve been realized. I have nothing. Not all of us can tour with our best friends and get free shit.” Mouth open, obviously gutted at the reference, Larry turned, shocked, and retreated to his room, flinging the door shut with a bang. You didn’t mean to say it. The tears silently dripped over your cheeks. Your mother’s words infiltrated your own. You let her get to you. You had let everyone get to you.

Head in your hands, you sat on the bed, sniffling and regaining your composure. You dragged yourself solemnly to the shower to get ready for the party you’d forgotten about. After you undressed, before you turned the water on, you heard the front door slamming loudly. Larry had left.

****

Larry was Bondy’s ride to the party. Bondy had no choice but to ride with you, not that he minded. The ride over wasn’t awkward, as you had previously expected. Bondy was ever-so-cool, and if he had any reservations about earlier, he didn’t show it. You both bantered about the shitty music on the radio, and talked about your own music favorites. It put the horrible day you’d had in the back of your mind. You asked each other for a ciggy at the same time, and called “jinx!”, eventually owing each other a soda. At one point, Bondy used a funny voice to recite lines and lines of puns, and you couldn’t stop laughing and had to pull the car over to calm down. You’d never heard Bondy laugh so loudly in your life; it was a hearty, merry sound. You realized you really liked spending time with him because he made you forget how shitty life could be sometimes.

As soon as you and Bondy arrived at the bar in the city, Van was at your side, hugging you, taking you to meet people, and showing you off, leaving Bondy to mingle with others himself. Obviously, Larry had kept the conflict earlier to himself.

You were glad you wore the outfit you did - black dress, green army jacket with your buttons pinned to it, and your silvery doc martens - because everyone was looking at you. You had to admit, you loved the attention you got when Van introduced you as his girlfriend. It helped ease the part of your mind that persuaded you didn’t matter, and put you in a better mood.

Listening to everyone speak so highly of Van made it easier to forget what your mother said. He truly was an angel; and after all, it was kind of your fault that you’d let him guide your decisions. He never asked you to do any of it. He was always thankful for your support and your presence, and he believed he was repaying you by supporting you fiscally and emotionally. Well, most of the time.

“Baby, you don’t have a drink! Let me grab her one, excuse me everyone,” Van said to the group you were currently speaking with as he butted into the conversation with a playful air. He held your hand and pulled you along to the bar, where he ordered the most expensive drink they had, to spoil you. He smiled proudly as you sipped from the rim. You loved how territorial and chivalrous he got with you around others. He’d tug you closer into his side, letting everyone know you were with him and no one else.

Fast forward three hours, when anyone and everyone in the bar was pissed drunk. Slurred words and happy laughter filled the air. Van decided to take advantage of everyone’s distractions and planted a hard kiss on your lips. By this time, just as Van predicted earlier, the bar had let in people who weren’t invited, and it was turning into a proper club scene. You two weren’t into that, so you settled for a steamy makeout on the fire-engine-red booth in the corner, and in drunkenness, your demeanor had improved considerably.

Wandering hands touched skin and roamed the fabric of your dress. No one dared interrupt your tangling limbs in the booth; people were busy singing karaoke. Others were engaged in intimate conversations. Some, jealous, peeked over at Van in the booth and wished they were you.

Van’s touches became more urgent, and his tongue rolled between yours. You could taste the alcohol and smoke in his mouth, but you didn’t care. His mouth was warm, comforting, and laced with want. Breaking the kiss, he pushed you gently upright against the booth; you liked how his hands felt pressing your skin. He kissed your neck and helped you out of the booth.

Smirking, he took your hand and led you out of the area of booths to a storeroom closet. He pushed you back against the closed door, the doorknob rattling and the wood creaking. His hips slid against yours as he lifted the hem of your dress up, bunching it around your waist. You were tempted to take the damned thing off because it was getting in the way, but it was a bit difficult to undo, and why did you think to wear anything at all with Van around?

You hazily circled your hips, grinding down against him as you hooked one of your legs around his hips, the clunky heel of your shoe digging into his backside. You were both breathless, moans and groans leaving lips as you moved against each other, and his hands were everywhere. On your waist, your hips, blunt nails digging into the skin of your stomach as he reached up to your chest.

Your lips parted, reddened and plumped from biting to keep quiet, and a soft whisper of a sigh brushed against his jaw. “Fuck.” Your hips twitched when he pulled the strap of the dress aside to kiss and lick, his teeth grazing the top of your chest with precision. Your fingers threaded through the hair on the back of his head, jerking him away to kiss him, open mouthed and heavy, teeth clashing and tongues curling.

You could hear the noise coming from outside, music thumping, causing your body to thrum with the vibration. His deep guttural moan when you slid your hand down his bum to pull him closer between your legs made you so wet. “God.”

“Actually, I go by Van,” he snickered. You bit at his earlobe in retaliation.

His lips were on your neck, teeth and tongue sucking and biting as he descended. Down the valley between your breasts, over the bunched material of your dress. Suddenly his unruly hair was under the fabric and he was running his tongue along the skin above your panties. Your fingers found purchase in the grooves of the door to keep standing upright.

You couldn’t believe you were doing this – with all your friends and colleagues right outside, eating and drinking and being downright merry.

Actually, you could believe it was happening with him; it was Van, and he did things to you no one else could ever imagine doing to you, and you surely let him.

Earlier you had too many of those fancy drinks and the feel of his hand traveling up and down your spine as you danced to slower music – heads bent close and whispers of “I’m glad you’re here” and “I love you” passed between you – brought you back to the high school days when it was always just you two. Always touching, always kissing, always full of love and lust and heat.

And now here you were, leaning against the door, a leg propped over his shoulder as his fingers hooked into the sides of your underwear, bringing them down inch by inch until they were dangling off your ankle and his head was back between your legs and his fingers slipped into you and you couldn’t keep in the whimpers. You were glad it was loud out there.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathed, raking your fingers through his hair, keeping him close. Only you could contradict yourself at a time like this.

He looked up at you, eyes half lidded and raised eyebrows, but he kept his tongue flat on you as he hummed, causing you to clench tightly around his fingers. He pulled back and with his voice all husky and deep, he asked, “And do you want me to stop?”

It was hard to speak when he kept moving his fingers, curling just right, and he was looking up at you with a smirk on his face, lips swollen and red from being on your skin.

“No,” you thrusted your hips, chasing his fingers. “I want...I want. Ugh, just come here,” you  grab for his shoulders, putting your leg back down as he stood up. He pulled his fingers out tantalizingly slow, causing you to whimper at the loss.

“Shh.” He rubbed his nose against yours, unhooking his belt as your hands joined the effort to bring his skinny black pants down just enough. He had his hands on your thighs, hitching one back up around his hips while the other hand glided along your backside, pulling you closer.

“I doubt they can hear me.” You teased yourself along his length, and his head fell forward to your neck, his panting breath coming out sharp and jagged. “Mm,” you pointed to the floor beside you, “purse, condom.”

He bent down to pick it up, handing it over for you to dig through. He genuinely laughed, “Thought you were going to get lucky, did you?”

“Oh please, you’ve been staring at me all night.” You tore open the package, and carefully put it on him. He bit his lip, moaning at the feel of your hands around him. “Not to mention the rest of this weekend. Maybe I was right in being a bit presumptuous, huh?”

With your hand wrapped around him, you pushed your hips up, guiding him in. You both moaned as he slid further in, getting used to each other’s bodies. His hand on your ass brought you closer, pushing him in farther. “Oh, fuck.” As he started moving slowly, his voice rose in pitch. “Yeah, you were definitely, definitely right.”

Smiling wide, you joked softly, “Shh, you don’t want them to hear you.” But you’re cut off by your own loud gasp as his thumb came to the apex of your thighs, rubbing as his hips moved even faster. He kissed you deeply, muffling your moans – and you were already treacherously close, god he needed to slow down. Slower.

Pulling on your bottom lip with his teeth, he rolled his hips just right, causing your legs to tremble. “I guess we’ll just have to find some way to keep each other quiet, won’t we? Just make sure not to call out my name too loudly.”

He dodged the hand flying at his face, half-laughing, half-moaning as he found just the right spot to make you scream.

****

Shuffling out of the closet, you both looked around the bar. No one seemed to have noticed you were gone for too long; also, you had taken measures to smooth Van’s hair back down, straighten your dress and jacket, and wipe off Van’s hands before exiting so as not to look like you’d just been doing something scandalous. Besides, Larry could always make up an excuse in the event someone did ask for either of you. You both could relax.

The rest of the night passed by uneventfully, other than when Benji accidentally broke a glass. You and Van were tired from the closet sex, and had been drunk earlier, so you couldn’t drive home. Bob offered to drive you, Van, and Bondy back.  Bondy was wildly drunk, mumbling to himself about tight spaces, party people, and broken cigarettes; therefore, definitely staying with Van and Larry again.

Sat with your forehead pressed to the cold window in the backseat, you watched the shops of Chester pass by. Bob’s driving was slow and steady, allowing you to drink in the night drifting by in your woozy state. Stopped at a red-light, through sleepy eyes you peered through the foggy fall night at the street corner. The little sign on the corner shop, illuminated by the neon blue of the DAWSON’S MUSIC sign in big letters, drew your attention. “NOW HIRING,” it said.

In your state of drunkenness, you still managed to write it down in the notes in your phone, and set it to remind you tomorrow afternoon. Van was passed out asleep in the middle seat next to you, and Bondy was in the passenger side in front of you, calmer now and also gazing through the window. After using so much energy to pick your phone up and enter that piece of information, you slumped into Van’s side for the rest of the car ride, mind flickering between consciousness and sleep.

Bob pulled into the driveway eventually, and you and Van stretched your sore limbs upon exiting the car. Van motioned with his hand over his shoulder to Bondy as you dug the keys out of your pocket. You three stumbled past the living room, through the kitchen, leaning on each other, and all of you collapsed into Van’s bed. Sandwiched between Van and Bondy, you were warm. Safe. Satisfied. You felt Van’s arm snake over your waist, and Bondy held your hands with fingers interlaced loosely between you - or was it the other way around?

****

Aspirin and water were desperately needed the next morning. Bob came over to see how everyone was, and he found the place a disaster. The front door was unlocked, and Bob waltzed right in; “You all could’ve been kidnapped,” he relayed to you later. Someone had knocked over a lamp on the way through the living room, and the bulb was shattered on the carpet. A loaf of bread was out and stale on the kitchen table next to a tub of butter. And when Bob found you, Van, and Bondy, legs all intertwined and makeup smeared on the both of them, he pretended he didn’t see it.

“Larry’s the fuckin’ lamp perpetrator,” Van told Bob once he was up and about. “Y/N and I just fuckin’ jumped in bed last night without a care. Real easy, slept amazin’. Didn’t hurt nothin’.”

You and Bondy shared a look, about to burst into laughter.  

“I slept like a fuckin’ baby. Always do when Y/N and I party all night,” he winked at you, teeth showing in a wily grin. However, you didn’t feel the same cheerfulness that Van was emanating. Something wasn’t right. Normally, Van should’ve been embarrassed that he and Bondy downright snuggled face to face - at least, he was extremely disconcerted when Larry tried to make out with him one Christmas as a result of some misplaced mistletoe and heavily consumed alcohol.

Did Van not remember that Bondy slept next to you last night? And that through the night, you had managed to cover everything with your mascara? You were known to roll around when you were drunk. But the loss of pressure when Bondy left the bed to right himself in the morning should have been enough for Van to wake up. Though he was a hard sleeper.

“And where’d you sleep last night, Bond? Get into bed with anyone? Ya’ had that lusty look in your eyes every time Y/N and I peeked at ya” Van cackled as he picked a slice of stale bread off the table and chewed it. Confirmed. Van did not know Bondy slept there at all last night. “You were absolutely fucked, mate.”

Bob’s eyes went wide, and you noticed. How did Bob know? Your eyes narrowed. You decided to keep your mouth shut, and shot Bob a look as well. You’d rather not deal with this. A confused Van was somewhat irritating.

“Yeah, ah… jumped into bed with some real hotties.” You snorted at Bondy’s answer.

“Bond! Fuckin’ legend, mate! We’re gonna have to talk about this at some point. I’ve got to know. Gonna go find Larry now though.” He stalked through the hallway to surprise Larry by yelling his name. Larry was probably in his room; he hadn’t spoken to you since you’d screamed at him. Rightfully so.

Later, when you’d gone out to the shed for a private smoke to deal with your thoughts, Bondy followed you and sat down on the ragged couch in the space next to you. Behind closed doors, you could talk freely.

“That’s so weird, Bond, how did he not know? I mean, hell, you fussed about getting my lipstick off your forehead for what seemed like five minutes. You also weigh a fuck ton and when you got off the bed, the dip you’d made in it practically sprung up. He’s absolutely oblivious.” The smoke huffed out of your lungs and hovered in the small space.

“He drank too much. He did happen to be passed out all the way home. But it’s odd that he remembers everything with you and nothin’ with me.” He lit his own cigarette and held it between his lips. The afternoon light filtered through the curls at the nape of his neck. He looked… pretty.

“Selective memory?”

“Don’t know if it works like that, love.”

Your head was swimming with all the thoughts rushing around in it. After a pause, you sighed. “We should’ve told him that happened, Bondy.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause now if he finds out later that we all shared a bed, especially after that ‘I’m horny as fuck’ look, he’s gonna think something’s up! He’s gonna think you’re trying to get at me or summat! Especially with the guitar thing already on our shoulders. Larry’s eyes are peeled. Bob’s too, for some reason. And I want Van to trust me, always. We’ve been together for so many years, imagine what he’ll do if he thinks we’re cheating. He’ll fall into despair. And now that I’ve sat through that conversation and blatantly lied to his face, complacent with your answer, and now that you’ve done the same, we’re fucked. We’ve got to keep this to ourselves.”

“He wouldn’t think we’re cheating. We’re fine.”

“This is VAN we’re talking about. Hopeless romantic, wouldn’t hurt a fly, tells everyone the truth no matter what -- we’re dealing with the most sensitive person when it comes to love. Not to mention, Larry and Bob know how close we’ve become recently, and it looks bad from the current angle and lack of communication.”

Bondy slumped further into the sickly green couch as he chuckled, releasing a puff of dust from the cushion. “We’re fucked.”

****

A few weeks, eleven secret guitar lessons, and about a hundred cigarettes later, you were stopped outside Dawson’s Music. Nervous.

Ever since you and Bondy had spoken in the shed, it became your unofficial practice space. No one ever went out there, and it was pretty secluded in the gardens that no one ever tended to, so it was a good place to meet. No one had the chance to suspect anything saucy was going on with Bondy if they didn’t know you were spending time with him in the first place. One day, post-guitar-lesson and after a raucous bout of laughter at Bondy’s attempt to sing as high as Tame Impala in The Less I Know The Better, he stopped laughing and looked down at his shoes. The music seemed extra loud when no one was speaking.

“Bond? You good, mate?” He looked up at you from under the brim of his hat, following a long pause, and said, “I think you should go get that job at Dawson’s.”

“What? How’d you even know I was considering?”

“Saw you that night in the car, looking at the sign. And then struggling to write it in your phone. Rearview mirrors are good for something, it seems.” The corner of his mouth turned slightly upward.

Mouth wide open, you stared at him. He continued. “By what you said to Larry that one day, ‘bout you needing to do your own thing, it seemed good.” Your eyes narrowed.

“You were listening?”

“The walls in this house ain’t so thick. Went out to the back behind you and Van’s room for a smoke and heard everythin’ through the window.”

“Oh.” Silence wafted in the air.

“Sorry.”

“No, Bondy, it’s okay, I just got heated in the moment and I said all those things because I had gone to lunch with my mom and she tore me up about my current situation.”

Bondy lit a match and pulled it up to his face to light the cigarette between his teeth. The sun was setting and the shed was darkening little by little. Orange beams of light shone through the two dirty windows and illuminated the dust floating in the room. “Still think ye should do it,” he said. With a puff of smoke, he stood up, took the cigarette from his lips, and handed it to you. “Come on, then.”

So there you were, standing on the street as people were walking by, wondering why your boots felt stuck to the sidewalk. You looked over your shoulder, and Bondy waved at you from the car window, and motioned for you to go inside.

****

“Van, honey! Listen!” You held the phone up to his ear, and a voice he’d never heard crackled over voicemail.

“Hello Y/N, we’re pleased to inform you that you got the job you applied for at Dawson’s Music. Please don’t hesitate to email us with your schedule so we can arrange your shift accordingly. Thanks and have a great day.”

Van looked down at you with surprised eyes, picked you up, and swung you around in his arms. “That’s amazing! I had no idea you even applied!”

“Thanks! Yeah! I’m super excited. Bondy was actually the one to push me to apply. I’m so happy I went through with it.”

“So proud of you, love. So proud. Hows’about we celebrate with some tea and kettlecorn and a movie?”

“You know me so well. Of course.” Van set to making the kettlecorn in the popcorn pot his dad had given him for his birthday last year, and you brewed the tea. Every so often, Van would wrap his arms around your waist and set his chin in the crook of your shoulder, watching you unravel the tea bags or pour hot water into the mugs. A little check-in every so-often. You loved how he subconsciously felt the need to be close to you.

Plopping down on the couch, spooned by Van under a soft knitted blanket, you felt at home. The fabric of his black tee was so soft, and you nudged farther back into him.

“Don’t be playin’ that game, love,” he snickered, kissing the side of your neck just below your ear.

“You’re just so comfortable,” you say, wriggling until you’re turned around facing him, completely disregarding the movie. He looks over your head and shoulder at the tv; you kiss his jaw softly, and then his chin. You wrap your arms around his waist, snuggling up as close as you can get, and press soft kisses to his collarbones peeking through the neck of the tee.

Just then, the front door burst open with an elated Bondy standing there. He was drunk, obviously, cigarette hanging from his lips.

“I’ve done it!” he yells, making his way to the fridge in the kitchen. Larry walked in as Bondy was fishing through the beers. He found his favorite kind, and popped the top open on the edge of the counter. Through Larry’s uncontained giggles, you saw Bondy saunter over to the hearth where Van’s TV was propped above. You felt Van’s vocal chords vibrate as he asked Bondy what the hell he was doing there and laughed.   

Bondy ignored you both on the couch and slung his arm out to grab the propane torch Van used to light the fire in the chimney.

“Fuck, Bondy, put that down!” you said, and Bondy made steady eye contact with you as he lit the torch, flame puffing loudly from the pipe, and brought it to the cigarette in his mouth, blasting the tip of it completely.

“Mate,” Van coughed out between bronchitis laughs, “what the hell?”

“Bought myself a fuckin’ house in the neighborhood today, boys!”

Van’s eyes narrowed in confusion. You felt his heartbeat quicken between his chest and yours. His eyebrows knitted together as he thought. “But you… hate it here?”

“What? No. That was last year. You’re livin’ in the past!” Bondy laughed as he held his arm out one of the living room windows, keeping the cigarette smoke outside. He fell to his knees and tried to grasp the beer he set on the chimney ledge without letting the cigarette in his other outstretched arm in the house.

Larry looked at Bondy with a confused look as well. Then, he glanced at you, who seemed to be the only one excited to gain a new neighbor.

“Where is it?” You asked excitedly. Bondy pointed somewhere off to the right down the street with a spaghetti arm. You knew you’d get the actual address later.

“That’s amazing! Now we can visit you all the time!” you bounced, sitting up on the couch next to Van. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you! I got the job at Dawson’s Music.”

“No fucking way, that’s fucking brilliant!” Bondy exclaimed, ashing the cigarette on the windowsill and flicking it outside in one motion. He picked you up off the couch and hugged you tightly, his curls tickling your neck. He smelled like booze upfront, but with notes of sandalwood and a light hint of floral underneath. You sighed into his arms. Why did boys have to smell so nice?

****

More weeks pass. It was time again for another acoustic session, this time led by a major video company you couldn’t remember the name of. It was the last session they’d be doing before starting the US tour.

The boys drove themselves to the session as a mini-roadtrip from Chester to London, and you rode in Van and Larry’s car. They laughed the whole way there, as Van and Larry both had erratic driving skills. Van constantly shot sexual looks at you in the backseat from the passenger side, and you hoped they’d later be cashed in for the actual thing.

The London bar was basked in an orange glow from industrial lighting hanging from the low ceiling. Fairy lights trailed around the edges of the room, and the warm light reflecting off the burgundy walls of the room allowed it to softly fade into the shadows at the edges. Candles in glass jars on rustic tables twinkled as people shuffled in to watch.

Your seat had been picked early on; you opted for a table between Van and Bondy, because you loved it when Van would finally open his eyes while playing and look to his right.

When the lights went down and the boys were illuminated only by the fairy lights, the audience was in awe of them. They all looked incredible, and matched the scenery. You never thought you’d see the day when Catfish played a bar gig in such a sweet way, but you were thankful it happened.

As the beginning chords of Hourglass sounded out, clear and compelling, your heart thrummed with them. The other boys fell silent as Van played, and this time he sang all the lyrics directly to you.

His eyes were open the whole time, filled with sadness of having to leave you on tour again; the reality couldn’t be denied any longer. You forgot the presence of others as he sang, belting the lyrics with strained neck and hands. Tears welled up in your eyes as he sang the chorus, almost acapella now. Soft “oohs” and guitar chords sweet and melancholic coaxed your tears out as they dripped down your cheeks.

And then it was over. You wiped them away as the audience murmured about who you were, and how some of the boys couldn’t take their eyes off you the whole time.

When the bar had cleared to its normal capacity a few hours later and your emotions had settled, you sat for a drink with Benji. You declined a beer and went for a soda; you knew if you got day drunk now you’d really feel the longing for Van and the boys on tour.

Benji got called away from the bar by a sound tech, something about his bass guitar, and Bondy plopped down in the seat next to you.

“Emotional, that was.” He was speaking of the Hourglass serenade.

“Yeah. Trying not to think too hard about it. I’m going to lose it for the first few days off by myself. Always do. I eventually get used to it though. As bad as that sounds.” You chuckled, and took a sip of your soda.

“Can’t fuckin’ believe we’re leavin’ again. But we’re also itchin’ to get back out there.”

“I know you are.”

A silence creeped in between you two, but it was comfortable. It had gotten easier speaking to Bondy on a personal level. He was the only other person you spent about as much time with as Van. That used to be Larry, but after you insulted him that day, he had tried to avoid you. Bondy knew this well, but Van was oblivious, and it was both funny and awkward to watch Van try to plan events where you and Larry would sit next to each other or go to the grocery store to buy supplies together. You or Larry would cringe and try to back out of it while Bondy cackled mirthfully in the background, as usual. Hence Larry driving most of the way to London today.

“What are you going to wear to that fancy party tomorrow?” you asked him, and his eyes narrowed in confusion before widening.

“I haven’t actually got anything,” he laughed, feet propped up on the barstool.

“Johnny Bond. This is probably the fanciest party you’ll ever attend. Why haven’t you thought to get any clothes for it?”

“Actually I do have a suit, thank you very much, it’s just in Newcastle. I moved all my shit into my mum’s house there, and I’ve been taking weekend trips there and back to cart it all to the new house. The formal wear hasn’t made it yet,” he stated.

You checked your watch. Half past noon. “I wonder….” you asked him frivolously, toothy grin peeking from your lips.

“I’ll start the car,” he stated. He stalked off to the back of the bar with a smile.

****

In Bondy’s little Volkswagen, surrounded by record store bags, CD jewel cases, old shirts and leather boots, you hit the A1 just before quarter one. Speakers loud, hair blowing in the wind, shirt ruffling, you felt happy. Bondy was smiling too, his hat having been blown to the backseat by a large gust of wind. His hair was flying around his head too. The beat of the music drummed in Bondy’s old speakers. You could feel it in your chest.

From the safety of your sunglasses, you studied his face as he drove on into hour two of the trip. Hooded eyes framed delicately by little eyelashes, nose sloping down to plump lips and small teeth. Curls resting on his cheeks. Freshly shaved. Freckles dusting above his cheekbones. Your eyes traveled over his taut jawline, and the veins in his neck, strained a little from laughing, and something deep inside you hummed. You shifted your legs on the seat and looked away for a few moments, trying to understand, trying to focus on anything but how you were feeling towards him. The music playing over the speakers didn’t help you shake that grandiose feeling of attraction. Looking back at him again, you saw the wind had let the neckline of his shirt fall below his collarbones, and they stuck out slightly, a little red from sunburn. Your cheeks burned red, and you couldn’t help but feel happy to be with him right now.

“What you smilin’ about over there?” he asked, finally noticing your stare.

“Oh, nothing, just--”

It was then that you noticed your phone lit up through your bag on the floor beside your feet.

“Hold on.”

You fished it out of your bag, and answered Larry’s call. In the background, you could hear Van yelling.

“Why the fuck’s she answering your calls but not mine?” you heard him shout, a few feet away from the receiver.

“Y/N, where the fuck are you? We’re worried sick!”

“Hey Larry, chill, Bondy and I are going to get him a suit for the party tomorrow.” You heard Larry sigh, and relay the information to Van, who was somewhere nearby. You could hear parts of their muffled conversation crackling through the phone.

“She’s always with him now, mate. Don’t know what the fuck I’ve done wrong,” Van said. You missed what Larry said back to him next. And then a, “Nothing’s going on,” from Larry, trying to assuage Van’s fears.

Then, you could feel the receiver exchange hands through the crackle of noise.

“Babe, it’s Van.”

“Hey, love. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going.”

“Next time just tell me, okay.”

“Alright. As soon as we get to Newcastle I’ll let you know.”

“Newcastle?!? What the fuck, Y/N?! What in the actual fuck are you doing?! That’s five fucking hours away?” You held the receiver away from your ear because his yelling was so loud. You and Bondy exchanged a look. His said, sorry, and yours said, I didn’t think we were doing anything wrong.

“Van….Van, honey, calm down, okay? I’m just helping him with an outfit! He already had a suit, so why should he buy another one? We’ll get there around dinner time, and I guess we’ll come back early in the morning.”

“So you’re staying the night there, too?” You could feel the hurt in his voice. It was more reserved. It broke you a little.

“Baby, I’m sorry. It was a spur of the moment decision. I… I shouldn’t have gone. I know it was stupid. And I should have told you. You would have kept me from doing this.”

In trying to appease Van, you also managed to hurt Bondy’s feelings. Next to you, he slumped a little farther into his seat and placed his arm out the window, looking away from you. But you knew it was better this way.

You hung up with Van after he felt he’d left the conversation in a good place. He’d called you seven times before Larry’s two.

The rest of the drive passed in silence.

****

“Mum, we’re about thirty minutes out from you now,” he spoke softly into his phone. Between the “mm”s and the “yes”s, you didn’t get much to go off of in terms of Bondy’s mother’s personality. But when you arrived, you realized there was no need to prepare yourself. His mother was the exact opposite of yours.

As soon as the car pulled into the secluded drive, a long winding thing out in the country, she was on the porch, waving him in with a dish towel, bright smile on her face. She was round and motherly, dressed in an apron, hair swept into a bun on the top of her head, secured with a clip. The first thing she did was pull you into a hug.

“Hello there! I’m Beatrice. You’re so beautiful, your name is Y/N, right? Bondy’s told me so much about you.” Her warmth enveloped you, and you immediately wanted to adopt her as your stand-in mother. Bondy blushed in front of you for the first time, and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d experienced a rare side of him no one else had seen.

“Hi mum,” he said, wrapping his skinny arms around her large frame, and leading her into the house.

It seemed it was a Bond family tradition to cook large meals for dinner; you could tell Bondy enjoyed stirring pots and tasting sauces for his mum. He looked at home in the kitchen, and you could imagine him, smaller and more curious-eyed, looking up at his mother asking to help her.

The sweetness in the room was almost too much to handle, and you felt as if you were intruding on a private moment. You wandered into the lounge, and perused the photos on the hearth. Bondy was a cute child, and handsome even in his awkward years.

You thought about the first time you visited Mary and Bernie’s house; it was just as warm and it smelled like cinnamon. You were wrapped in one of Van’s sweaters, sleeves too long for your arms so the sweater paws hung next to you. The photos of Van on the end tables were like mini shrines to him, and Mary gave Van the same looks Beatrice gave Bondy.

Thinking of Van made you peer down at your cell phone. No texts or calls. You guessed he was giving you space. As guilty as you felt, you also craved the taste of independence you were getting. Doing things with other people and making other friends was the first step in becoming your own person again.

Bondy came into the lounge and told you he was running out to the shed to find some old guitars you could play on. You nodded, and smiled as he left. Domestic Bondy made your heart flutter.

Suddenly, the phone rang in the kitchen and Bondy’s mother answered the phone.

“Oh hi Mariam!” her chipper voice answered. You chuckled to yourself. She was adorable.

You continued to walk through her house, imagining a little Bondy galavanting in the small hallways and the sounds of his guitar echoing through the walls. You didn’t want to admit that this made you see a side of Bondy you couldn’t deny a little love for.

“Yes, Mariam, she’s lovely,” Beatrice spoke hushedly in the kitchen. You felt bad for listening, but you were intrigued. “This is the first he’s ever brought…” she trailed off, murmuring to the other woman on the phone. “She’s absolutely beautiful. Polite and sweet. I love her already,” she spoke.

Your eyes went wide as you realized Beatrice thought Bondy was bringing you home to meet her. As if you were together. A hand went over your mouth, and you started to panic.

Thankfully, before you could take another strained breath, Bondy was at your side with the guitar. You let the feelings of panic subside for the time being so you could enjoy playing with him.

You were getting good now, especially since you practiced in your spare time. You didn’t want to show Bondy how much you’d learned, though; you were saving your newfound talent for the afterparty tomorrow, where you’d show the guys how determined you were to take part in their art. You planned to play a few songs for everyone to surprise them.

After losing yourself for an hour or so with Bondy, singing songs and playing guitar, Beatrice called that the meal was ready; Bondy apologized for not helping as much as usual. Beatrice just smiled and said everything was perfectly fine.

“So, Y/N, what do you do?” she asked. A question that had plagued your life since you’d left school. Now, though, you had a solid answer.

“I work at a record and instrument store called Dawson’s Music. I was just recently promoted to the manager of the store. I’m really surprised at how fast I progressed in the ranks! They really seem to love me, and I love them… It’s just a nice environment overall. I never thought I’d be dating a rockstar and working in music, with my previous experience. But that’s another story for another day. Bondy was the one who really pushed me to get the job.”

In the moment, you hadn’t realized your false affirmations of Beatrice’s earlier phone call; she didn’t understand that “dating a rockstar” and “dating her son” didn’t mean the same thing in her context. However, Bondy failed to correct you, and so it went unnoticed by you.

“I’m so glad! I bet you’re feeling mighty independent!” It seemed Beatrice had the same intuitive quality as Bondy.

“I really am. I think I’m happier than I’ve ever been.” At that, both Bond family members’ smiles beamed brightly, and you felt good.

“How about a little toast to that, then?” Bondy stood up, pulling a bottle of pinot grigio from a grocery bag. It was your favorite.

You laughed, eyes narrowing. “Thought you hated white,” you teased.

“Think I can make an exception.” He uncorked it, and poured two full glasses, one for each of you, and a glass with enough for a sip for Beatrice. The glasses clinked together, and you sipped happily on yours. Bondy’s face contorted as soon as he sipped his.

“‘M fine, I swear,” he said, trying to sip more to get used to the taste.

****

Bondy had given up on the wine a long time ago, resorting to a few highball vodkas and “whatever juice I can find in this fuckin’ fridge.” You both were drunk by now, telling stories across the table to starry-eyed Beatrice.

Eventually, she retired to her bedroom with a “goodnight” and a flourish of her dish towel. Bondy led you outside and you both sat in the dewy grass, staring up at the sky.

Beneath the stars, you realized you missed Van too.

****

Clothes needed to be removed after sitting in the wet dewy grass; you both were too drunk to realize what connotation a situation like this would have on any other night. You tiptoed up the stairs to Bondy’s room, where you peeled your jeans and shirt off and let them fall to the floor. Bondy had done the same. Clad only in underwear, you both climbed into his bed, pressing pillows between you two, trying not to acknowledge the zing you felt every time his fingers brushed up against your skin.

When you woke, the pillows were all strewn on the floor from your sleep movements, and you were entwined with him, pressed up against his chest.

****

Racing back to Chester with the formal suit in tow, you made it to Bondy’s house just two and a half hours before you needed to leave for the party. He lived five houses down the row, and two up the next street away from Van, so as soon as he parked the car, you darted up the street for a much-needed shower.

“Look who’s home,” Van said, enveloping you in a tight hug. “Everything’s good?” he asked, tentative. The underlying meaning was there, but you chose to ignore it. At least he was being pleasant.

“Yep. But I’m in desperate need of a shower.”

“Pop on in! Larry just took one so the water’s still hot. And I’ve been eyeing that dress in the closet for weeks, waiting to see you in it. Today’s the day!” he exclaimed, and plopped down on the couch.

You cursed men for not having to spend so much time to get ready. It took you the whole two and a half hours to wash, shave, dry your hair, fix your hair, do your makeup, paint the nails that had chipped, put the dress on, practice walking in the sky high heels, and choose a clutch that went with it.

You had opted for a long-sleeved black dress, backless, with a sweetheart V at the front. The shimmery black fabric was breathable, so it was fine for a summer night. It hugged your figure tightly before it cascaded to the floor. You decided to do your hair in big waves, to complement the dress; you even had extensions put in last week so your hair would be long enough to do a Pinterest blowout.

Stepping out of the bedroom with your smoky eye, tall heels, and fire-engine red clutch bag, you knew you looked good. You hadn’t felt this good in a long time. You walked to the living room, where the boys were doing finishing touches to their own suited looks. As soon as you walked in, all eyes were on you.

“Whoa, babe.” Van dropped to his knees in front of you. “You’re so… fuck. You’re a goddess. How’d I end up with her, lids? The universe dealt me a good hand, yeah?”

Your gaze went from him to the other boys in the room. Bob was smiling, admiring your beauty. Benji was staring wide-eyed, not saying anything. Bondy’s mouth was hanging open, and his hands were frozen where he was buttoning up his shirt. Larry was stunned, but went back to gelling his hair in the foyer mirror.

Van stood up, and walked in a circle around you, admiring every angle the dress had to offer. “Babe, this… I thought I was excited when it was on the hanger. This is somethin’ else.”

“Okay, stop drooling. We’ve got to leave in 5.” You told him, but locked eyes with each of the others to make sure they’d quit looking too.

****

The party passed as all cocktail parties do; photos as they get out of the vehicle, photos as they enter the venue, tapas to munch on during, awkward conversations with people you’ve never met, and then more photos. Your heels were killing you. You could tell the boys were tired of posing and answering questions.

“Let’s take a breather, yeah?” Van asked you, and signaled the others to follow him.

A storage room in the back of the venue was found, and half the crew lit up cigarettes as soon as they stepped within the door frame. They bantered back and forth, thankful to be somewhere they could be themselves. You kicked off your heels and noticed an old wooden acoustic guitar in the corner. Your plan was to wow them after the party, but you figured with all of them together, here and now, you could play just as well and they wouldn’t be expecting it.

You strummed it once; surprisingly, it was in tune. Bondy turned his head first; you knew it was because he was attached to all things guitar. You started playing, and only when they all looked around the room at each other and realized it wasn’t each other, that they realized it was you.

You laughed as they turned around, shocked. Van’s eyes were bugging out of his head. He sat down on a crate next to you.

You played his favorite song, and then Bondy’s, and then sung a little bit of Cocoon for fun. By the end of it, they were all singing along, and in a much better mood to get back to the party. Van was the last one to stand and return to the crowd outside.

****

Stepping into the vehicle to ride back home with the other boys, Van blindfolded you before you could push his hands away.

“Vaaaaaaan….. Wait a second. Is this that scarf from the drawer?”

“Why, yes it is. How perceptive of you.”

“This is like, a bit kinky,” you heard Benji say.

A stifled cough. Bob.

“I don’t know what to think of these two anymore.” Larry.

“I’m kind of into it.” Bondy.

“You would be.” Bob.

The rest of the car ride was just you listening to the boys, and trying to figure out what Van was up to.

The sleek black limousine pulled up to a stop at two places, and you felt people’s weight lift off the seats each time. At the last stop, after someone else had gotten off, Van said to the driver, “Go round the block one more time, for good measure.” He did.

Van helped you out of the car. You probably looked ridiculous, wherever you were, in a formal gown with a black scarf wrapped around your head. It was probably denting your hair, too.

Van carried you inside, and as the smell of the house hit you, you knew it was home. Van set you down, pressed your front up against the cool metal of the door, and started whispering in your ear from behind, hot breath tickling your neck.

“Does he do what I do for you?”

“Wh--?” His fingers over your mouth muffled your response. “Does he do what I do for you?” he repeated, voice calm, but angry. He ran a finger down your arm, touching your hand lightly. Blindfolded, all of your other senses were heightened. Van knew this. It was the reason for the extra go-around on the block. Your skin tingled where his finger had touched.

And then suddenly, his body was everywhere, encircling you from behind. He pressed his hips up against your ass, hard, lips on your neck and pulled your hips back into his as he rucked the dress up around your hips, fingering the edge of the simple black cotton underwear you chose to wear tonight. “God, how do you do that?” He rasped out in between kisses, his tongue running along the column of your throat.

You let out a muffled whimper, caught behind bitten lips. “Do what?”

His answer was to turn you around and lift a bare leg over his hip as he ground against you roughly. His touches were unexpected, and his hands were rough on you.

“He can’t touch you like I can,” he angrily whispered in your ear. He pressed you up against the door, cradling your face in his hands as he planted a kiss on your lips. “You’re mine.”

You tried to ask who he was referring to, but it came out as a moan when he bit your earlobe. You sighed into his neck, and his hands trailed down your back to paw at the zipper of your dress.

“Bedroom,” he growled. He carried you to the bed, slammed the bedroom door, and untied your blindfold. His eyes were revealed to you, angry and red. It was visible all over his face. Jealousy. He’d found out how much time you’d actually been spending with Bondy. How well you could play guitar confirmed all his suspicions.

He helped your hips out of your dress, and let it fall to your feet.

Again, he whispered, “You’re mine.”

His hands snaked up to your breasts and his thumbs curved the swell on the underside of the flesh. He caressed your arms, and then lifted them over your head, and laid them on the pillows. He tied them loosely with the scarf he used to blindfold you.

With open mouth kisses, he descended from your neck, to your breasts, across your stomach, and down to your underwear. His teeth tugged at the fabric, and he pulled them all the way off, nipping at your ankles before returning between your thighs. He thrust in a finger with no problem; the fact that Van was jealous over you spending time with another man evoked something in you that set off a tidal wave of wetness. You squirmed beneath his touch as he licked, sucked, and finger-fucked the moans out of you, coaxing your deepest frustrations out of you.

“You like that, huh? Can’t get this with him, can you? I’m the only one who gets to fuck you” he whispered into your wetness, blowing on your most sensitive parts. The cool rush of air made you shiver.

Suddenly, he stands up, unbuttoning his shirt, and unbuckling his jeans and boots, the metal clinking as he threw his belt down.

“Come.” He directed you to sit on his lap. Slowly, as he lowered you onto him, your moans pierced the air. “Louder. I want everyone in the neighborhood to know how good you’re being fucked tonight.”  

You rose up on your haunches only to push back down again, skin sticking and you both groaned as you looped your tied hands around his neck, holding onto him, his hands already fully cupped around your breasts, the pads of his thumbs causing your nerve endings to explode as they pass over your nipples.

You felt it start to coil deep in your belly, in the apex of your thighs, as you twisted your hips just right. The delicious feeling trembled through your limbs and into your center. The feel of his hands on your waist, fingers digging into the skin under your hips as he let out a breathy “Oh fuck” and takes you higher. Your hands held tight around his neck for leverage as you sat fully astride him, as he was buried deep inside you.

You gyrated slowly, rubbing against him, moans leaving your lips. You watched his face, his mouth falling open and his bottom lip pulling down as his eyelids fluttered in ecstasy, a look of pure pleasure on his face. His hands fell slack from your chest to come and rest on your moving hips, helping you with the motions as your body started to tighten, ready for a release.

He sat up quickly, folding his knees under him and surprising you as he wrapped both arms around your waist and lied his head against your sternum, panting breath coming out hot against your skin. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, still tied with that black scarf, ends of it tickling his back. Your hands were drifting through his hair, pulling it tightly between your fingers as you moved. The actions caused him to hiss and bite on the upper swell of your breasts and you just couldn’t get enough.

You were pressed up close against him, from groin to torso and his knees were bent, cradling your lower body between his thighs and abdomen. “Oh, my god,” you whispered, as he bit lightly at your nipple and brought a hand down to the curve of your ass, fingers digging in and helping you move faster.

You had never needed a release this bad or this fast before, and with your movements gaining speed and a line of sweat running down the middle of your back and the sound of your bodies moving together and don’t even get started on the whimpers and groans coming from him that had your body finally giving in as you quaked with your release.

Your thighs tighten around the tops of his hips and your whispered “I love you”s and “you feel so good”s bring him over the edge and honestly, if he held you any tighter – your trembling bodies riding out your orgasms together, lips and tongues on necks and promises of more to come etched on your skin – you might just break.

And when he laid you back on the bed, head resting on your stomach and small grin on his face as he kissed your skin lightly, you could hear through his whispered nothings brushing against your skin his own “I love you” surfacing and you couldn’t deny that this time was different – heady and emotional and jealous and so goddamn good you wouldn’t be able to feel your legs tomorrow – than the rest; that somehow you were a little bit closer to Van than you’d ever experienced.

(And two hours later, when you had a leg lifted over his shoulder and his head was between your thighs and the cool tile of the shower was pressed against your back, you thought this might just be what heaven feels like.)

*****

“You’ve got to choose.” Bob said it through a mouthful of muffin. He’d taken you out to lunch with promises of photography and lemonade.

“I know.”

“Both of them are losing it over you.”

“I know.”

Back up a few days, and there was you, blindfolded, in your beautiful black dress, pressed up against the door, Van whispering jealousies in your ear.

What you didn’t know was that Bondy was sitting at the kitchen table, stunned to silence at Van’s blatant territorial display. That he was listening to every moan you made, itching to be the one causing those sounds, dying to see you come undone.

The pain Van had caused him was enough to push Bondy to confide in Bob. And Bob didn’t like being in the middle of people’s drama. Especially when it involved hearing about someone one you love have domineering sex with another person you love. Bob was uncomfortable, to say the least.

“Y/N, they go on tour tomorrow.”

“Bob, I just…. I love them both, alright? Both of them have seen different parts of me. If I’m with one, I miss the other. It’s stupid.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. You’ve been with Van for five years, and these feelings for Bondy have developed over the course of a few months. If I were you, I know who I’d pick. But, I’m not you. I’m sorry. I wish I could choose for you.”

“Should I just let them go off on tour, and not hear from me for a while? Let them get their shit done, and visit later? I really don’t want to be a Yoko.”

*****

You watched them go at it, Benji pointing out every creature in the film trying to explain the best way he can in his nerdy excitement, and Bondy commenting on how stupid the characters sounded or looked. You liked these moments, when everything has died down for a soft quiet moment and you’re not thinking of boys on tour or job promotion or paying rent. It’s just nice.

Wrapping your fingers around the cold metal of his rings, you leaned over to whisper softly in his ear, “It’s a movie, they don’t always have to make sense.” You lifted his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders as you nuzzled into his side, resting your head on his chest.

He groaned, the noise reverberating in your ear. “Yeah, well, they should try and explain it better for people like me, darling.”

You laughed, fingers dropping to poke at his thigh. “You’re in a band that tours the world, I’m sure figuring out the complexities of Star Wars is the least of your issues.”

He quieted down, rubbing his thumb along the tip of your nose as you raised your eyes up to look at him. Playfully rolling his own eyes, he conceded, “Whatever you say, love.”

You preened, eyes crinkling in the corners as your lips rested on his, a smile pulling through at the easy intimacy.

You pulled apart as you hear childish phony gagging beside you and Bondy laughs as you playfully swat at the curls hanging in Benji’s face. “Like I don’t have to see you kissing Dani on the doorstep every afternoon,” you said, raising your eyebrows with a pointed look.

He flushes deeply, bowing his head bashfully. “Yeah, yeah.”  He wipes his hands on his dark black jeans as he stands. “Anyways, I got to hit the hay. I got a meeting for really early tomorrow.”

You tilted your head. “Wait, what about the rest of the movie?”

“Just finish it without me, mum. It’s not like I haven’t seen it a million times.” He smirked. “Night guys.”

“Night,” you said, eyebrows creasing and skepticism rising.

“Night, lad.” Bondy stretched out on the sofa as Benji disappeared around the corner. He raised his arms, groaning lightly as his muscles protest the action. His velvet shirt lifted up slightly, and your eyes were immediately drawn to the strip of skin and dusting of hair on his abdomen. Your heart jumped as the sight. His eyes locked onto you, smiling softly. “What is it? Think he’s gone to bed a bit to early?”

You giggled, lifting your legs to curl underneath yourself as you faced him. “Oh yeah, totally. I mean, it’s only 8:30.”

“Oh,” he bit his lip, eyes drifting to your lips. “Well, in that case…” His voice drifted off as his hand curved around the neck of your shirt, bringing you closer. His breath ghosted over your lips as he left a small peck, his hand reaching up to caress your jaw. You deepened the kiss, moaning as you tilted your chin just so, hand reaching forward to wrap around his knee. His tongue ran over his lips, tangling with yours and it just felt so damn good.

You sighed against his lips as he fell back along the couch, pulling you on top of him. “And what about the movie?” Your breath stuttered as his hand found itself resting in your back jean pocket, forcing your hips to rock against his.

“Another time,” he groaned out, his lips coasting from your lips to your jaw to the curve of your neck. Your eyes rolled back, whole body dropping into his as you gave in.

“Shit!” you exclaimed, waking up from the dream drenched in a cold sweat, breathing ragged and electrified. “No. No fucking way. No.” You rolled out of bed, peeled off your clothes, and stood under the shower. Bob was right. You needed to choose.

*****

Saying goodbye was hard. They left, and you didn’t kiss either of them in front of each other. You and Van shared a few sweet kisses in his bedroom that morning, and you kissed Bondy’s cheek when Van went to find the toilet at the airport.

A few months had gone by, and you’d heard from Bondy about as much as Van. They were both pining for you, even abroad, but you let that settle to the back of your mind. You had been working hard, doing long hours at the music shop, and managing sales at another music shop down the block. This one was corporate owned, and you were quickly becoming one of their favorite saleswomen, especially since you could play guitar almost as well as Bondy could. You were still extremely thankful for his help.

You had saved up enough money to fly out to visit them for a few days in any American city you chose. Did someone say, Miss Independent?

Stepping off the flight in California, you were nervous. Heart pounding as you greeted the both of them, trying not to give one more attention than the other. They, however, had other plans. The first night after their show, the boys took you out to a club, and offered to buy you any drink you wanted on the menu. Bob rolled his eyes the entire time, sipping his virgin bloody mary, and you got drunker and drunker, and started falling all over both Bondy and Van. 

It was Bondy who won the opportunity to dance with you; he managed to bribe the club owner to play Tame Impala over the speakers, and since that was the music of your friendship, you had no choice but to take Bondy’s hand and lead him, walking backwards, to the dance floor. You ground against him, hot and sweaty under the lights, while Van sipped his drink. He was enjoying this; he didn’t know just how 50/50 you were split on your attraction.

It was Van who won the opportunity to let his lips touch yours; the dancing had shaken Bondy up so much that he had to dart to the bathroom soon after the regular music was back on. You weren’t down from your dancing high yet, and you needed to feel something. Someone. You grabbed Van by the neck and smashed your lips against his; he returned the favor with as much fervor and passion as you had begun with. Bondy watched from afar when he emerged from the bathroom, only thirty seconds later.

That first night, you ended up in your hotel room with Van.

On the last night of your stay, after drinks were shared all around, you asked Bondy to play guitar with you in a back room, for old time’s sake. As you drunkenly tried to finger the strings properly, miserably failing, Bondy tried the same.

“Helloooo? Anyone here?” Van called from the hallway, obviously drunk too. He was enjoying these games too much.

“Quick! In here!” You giggled, forcing Bondy into the storage closet, leaving your guitars propped against the wall. You heard Van open the door, and Bondy started to breathe like a laugh was coming on.

You pressed your finger to his plump lips; the contrast between his pokey beard and the soft skin of his lips stirred something in you. You paused, waiting for the coast to be clear, feeling a slight tingling inside. You became hyper aware of how close you and Bondy were in the closet; his fingers brushing your thighs, his knee touching yours, his hair tickling your cheek.

Bondy moved your finger away from his mouth. His breath fanned over your face.

“I can’t take this anymore.”

He pressed his lips to yours, and his fingers wound themselves in your hair. Your noses knocked and your teeth clinked. You couldn’t get close to him quickly enough. His knee spread your legs, moving to press closer to you. You kissed back, relishing the feeling of his lips and tongue finally on yours. He kissed rougher than Van, but his movements were more calculated. One of his hands traveled to grip your ass, the other still tightly wound in your hair. Your hands were on his chest, quickly traveling lower. When you imagined what his fingers would feel like inside you, how well he played the guitar and how strong his hands looked, you moaned. It was muffled in his mouth. His hands felt for the waistband of your shorts, already knowing what you desired. He pulled the shorts and underwear down in one motion, and he felt how soaking you were for him. He inserted a finger, and you almost lost yourself completely. Two, and you were gone.

There was no room for sex in the closet, so Bondy made do with what he could; not like his hands weren’t the most magical things that had ever graced you. All those years of melody guitar playing were paying off in a way you’d never thought they could. He hit every angle that would make you scream, he’d whisper lowly in your ear, comforting you, guiding you, and he sucked your neck, beard tickling wherever he kissed, sure to leave bruises behind. He picked up speed and you pressed your head against his chest, but he made you look him in the eye as your climax rushed over you in powerful waves. When the last whimper was uttered, teeth released bitten lips, his fingers slid out of you, your pants were pulled up, and he had found some stray napkins for his hands, the door swung open. Cold air rushed in. Van was standing with his arms crossed.

“We need to talk.”  

****

“There’s no way I can decide this right now,” you told them. “I love both of you.” You were far from settled. You were still a little drunk, too.

“What about something completely random?” Van asked. Bondy was silent. Scared that the storage room closet was the only taste he’d ever get of you.

“Oh! Oh. I’ve got it.” You look around, searching for your purse. Picking it up, you trawled the inside of it with your fingers. You pulled a coin out and showed it to them.

"So... we flip for it." Trying to steady your shaking hands, you held it tightly. "One of you, call it."

"Heads!" Van yelled, and the coin deftly left your hand, twinkled above you, flipping over, and over, and over, with either boy’s fate engraved on the sides. Finally, it fell back to your hand. You picked it up quickly, and flipped it onto the back of your hand. You took a deep breath, and opened your eyes. You moved your fingers out of the way so they could see.

Their heads leaned in. They both stared at each other.

"Best two out of three?"

[fromchaos]

50 ~little sarchengsey things~

1. who is the early bird/ who is the night owl?

well,,, they are all modern day teens, so not a single one is actually an early bird. normal bedtime for blue and henry is 1-2am, and gansey joins them when he thinks he can sleep. henry is best at mornings tho.

2. who is the big spoon/ who is the little spoon?

i’ve said it before and i will say it again: blue is the supreme big spoon. she hates being in the middle. if gansey’s insomnia is flaring up, henry goes in the middle. if henry’s claustrophobia is worse that night, gansey goes in the middle.

3. who hogs the cover/ who loves to cuddle?

they all love to cuddle when they’re awake/falling asleep, but they are all rude and grabby when they’re unconscious. the first few weeks they share a bed, blue regularly wakes up on the floor having pulled the covers so hard she launched herself off the side.

4. who wakes the other one up with kisses?

blue or henry depending on who wakes up first. blue cares more about morning breath, so she does it less often than henry. gansey has either been up all night and is too exhausted to be super affectionate or he’s too in his head when he wakes up naturally and sort of forgets the others are there. however, he very much likes morning kisses from his bf and gf U u U

5. who usually has nightmares?

HOO BOY. MORE LIKE WHO DOESN”T, AM I RIGHT LADIES?

6. who would have really deep emotional thoughts at the middle of the night/ who would have them in the middle of the day? 

even tho gansey has terrible insomnia, i feel like he usually distracts himself and tries to stuff down the deep thoughts in the middle of the night, though he will engage in deep discussions with blue at 3am bc she likes it. henry’s late night thoughts are just faux-deep shitposts. then the next day they’re looking at the world’s biggest rubber band ball and gansey and henry are having existential crises. 

7. who sweats the small stuff?

ganseyyyboyyy does (but i think he’s also weirdly more zen after his 2nd death). he’s haywire in everyday life and deathly calm in a calamity. blue will get stressed if there’s A LOT of small stuff all building up at the same time, but is normally chill. henry can seem like a bit of a mess under pressure but actually things work out weirdly well for him most of the time. (think dirk gently lmfao)

8. who sleeps in their underwear (or naked)/ who sleeps in their pajamas?

i don’t think any of them have proper pajamas? comfy t-shirts and underwear all around. especially henry and blue stealing gansey’s t-shirts and underwear to sleep in.

9. who makes the coffee (or tea)?

gansey and henry each brought their own french press on the roadtrip lmfao. gansey usually winds up making it tho because one time henry was dared to mix a monster energy drink and black coffee and chug it by lee^2 and it killed his taste buds and his caffeine tolerance so he makes his way too strong now. blue starts the roadtrip hating coffee but by the end she’s a caffeine demon living off of gas station sludge.

10. who likes sweet/ who likes sour?

blue likes the two together (idk i find yogurt a bit of both so). gansey doesn’t really have a taste for either; he likes blander savory foods. henry likes sweet things, but more rich-sweet than sugar-sweet.

11. who likes horror movies/ who likes romance movies?

i can’t imagine any of them being super into horror??? if they watch a horror movie it’s just to rip apart the lore for inaccuracy. gansey and henry like romcoms and have to bribe blue to watch them with them. gansey’s faves are love actually and notting hill, and henry’s are you’ve got mail and he’s just not that into you.

12. who is smol/ who is tol?

blue < gansey < henry

that’s pretty much canon, but body type-wise i think blue is chubby all-over, gansey is pretty solidly built w/ broad shoulders, and henry is skinny but with a small beer belly lmao.

13. who is considered the scaredy cat?

tbh i don’t think any of them really fit that role? and when they do it’s because they’re traumatized??? i just can’t see them teasing each other for being afraid because they all know TRUE BONE-DEEP HORROR.

14. who kills the spiders?

blue carries the spiders outside. henry screams and gets up on the couch. gansey either doesn’t notice or just freezes in fear.

15. who is scared of the dark?

none of them usually? but certain scenarios can give any of them flashbacks, so i’d say more wary than scared?

16. who is scared of thunderstorms?

i could see henry being a little afraid of thunderstorms? and gansey is autistic, so he HATES thunder but isn’t exactly scared of it.

17. who works/ who stays at home?

they all work, but i’m not sure any of them have traditional 9 to 5 jobs? when they have kids, they probably spend equal amounts of time at home taking care of them. blue travels less at that point, but is sometimes gone for longer periods of time that she makes up for with long periods of time spent at home.

18. who is a cat person/ who is a dog person?

they are all cat people. blue loves all animals, but if she were to get her own pets, they would be cats. i’ve written about it before, but they have so many cats. they adopt like 5 and feed all the neighborhood strays and let them roam in and out of their home.

19. who loves to call the other one cute names?

oh wow NO IDEA who could that possibly be???

20. who is dominant/ who is submissive?

literally the only person gansey could dom is ronan r u kidding me?? that boy is subbier than a 5 dollar foot long. (then blue and henry are about equally weighted toward dom, like 6 or 7 on a scale of 1 to 10)

21. who has an obsession (over anything)?

obsession is literally what brings them together. they recognize that intense passion that drives all of them in each other. none of them could be with someone who wasn’t completely obsessed with something because it shows a lack of that passion. also, they’re totally obsessed with each other.

22. who goes all out for valentine’s day?

is it weird that i think it’s blue? she goes on some tirade about the commercialization of valentine’s day, how it’s a bullshit hallmark holiday, how it makes single people feel less than, blah blah blah, so henry and gansey figure they should keep it lowkey and just have a normal date or something. BUT the day-of blue has made them both extravagant cards and thoughtful homemade gits. because authentic love is best honored with DIY. (blue contains multitudes, y’all.)

23. who asks who out on the first date?

this is hard?? what’s a year-long roadtrip other than one humongous first date to woo your third partner? but real talk, post-trk, gansey realizes he and blue have never had an official date but also the only place in henrietta is nino’s and u can’t go on a date to a place u work, so they just go out for drives like they did before. and drives turn into daytrips. and datetrips turn into “oh henry you have to come with, you’d just love this place!” and suddenly polyamory happens.

24. who is the talker/ who is the listener? 

this like,,, isn’t really how relationships work lmfao. gansey is the most genuinely extroverted (henry can be super extroverted obviously, but that’s 50% for show), but unless the topic of discussion is one of his special interests, he’s more of an active listener than a talker. but a conversation with these 3 is basically all of them taking turns ranting because they are all very opinionated and have a lot to say.

25. who wears the other ones clothes?

blue will steal ur clothes and transform them so completely u hardly notice. both her and henry like wearing gansey’s shirts as pajamas, but they are all such different sizes and have such different styles that actual borrowing isn’t all that common. (tho blue does make clothes for henry pretty often)

26. who likes to eat healthy/ who loves junk food?

i don’t think any of them are super obsessed or even like,,, concerned with eating healthy, and they all have a good appetite for junk. henry probably has the most balanced diet tho because mrs. woo made all the litchfield boys eat dinner together on weeknights. (think traditional korean cuisine meets deep south comfort food, both of which love their side dishes) meanwhile, blue’s idea of a balanced meal is the signature dish of each 300 fox way lady and a yogurt. and gansey is an autistic boy who has been feeding himself for a few years, so he eats the same 3 things in various combinations.

27. who takes a long shower/ who sings in the shower?

blue is used to taking super fast showers with orla banging on the bathroom door, and gansey is perfectly perfunctory when it comes to hygiene, so henry. he makes 45 minute pop-filled playlists for his showers.

28. who is the book worm?

gansey. the others love reading and learning for sure, but gansey is the one with the overflowing bookshelves, half full of books he hasn’t read yet. and blue and henry like listening to him rambling about his recent reads like a human audio book because he’s a pretty good storyteller.

29. who is the better cook?

henry is the best cook, and he makes most of their meals once they’re settled down and living together. litchfield definitely had a chore wheel and all the boys took turns helping mrs. woo cook. gansey is used to eating takeout all the time, and blue only eats yogurt.

30. who likes long walks on the beach?

blue!!! she sees the ocean for the first time on the road trip and loooooves it. she’ll let the boys bury her in the sand without fuss because it’s like a lil warm cocoon. she doesn’t go too deep in the water, but she likes standing where the waves break and looking for signs of life underneath the sand. henry and gansey grew up taking vacations to tropical beaches on the reg, so it’s nothing novel or special for them, but they love seeing it through blue’s eyes!!!

31. who is more affectionate?

well i think it depends on the type of affection?? (warning: this is really fucking gay) henry is the most verbally affectionate with all the nicknames and the affirmations and the enthusiasm. sometimes he’s more reserved with deeper emotional statements, but he’s never cold or distant. blue is the most physically affectionate, wanting to be constantly touching and feeling her boys beside her. she always has an arm around someone’s waist or a hand on someone’s knee to ground them and herself. and with gansey it’s all in the eyes and the gestures. he’ll look at them like they’re magic and then suggest the perfect thing they need right at that moment. 

32. who likes to have really long (deep) conversation?

blue and gansey have really long deep conversations together where they dance around and circumnavigate the issues. henry cuts straight to the point in deep conversations because he’s been thinking about the thing for ages and just wants to get to the point and know their answers already.

33. who would wear “not guilty” t-shirt/ who would wear “sin” t-shirt?

oh jeez. either blue and gansey wear “not guilty” and henry wears “sin” or gansey and henry just dress normally while blue wears the “sin” t-shirt while trying to look her most badass?

34. who would wear “if lost return to…” t-shirt/ who would wear “i am…” t-shirt?

the boys definitely wear “if lost return to blue sargent.” someone has to be the sensible one.

35. who goes overboard on the holidays?

they probably all do in their own special ways. blue spends all of december making gifts for her loved ones that are filled with love and couldn’t come from anyone else. gansey gets people the one big perfect present he definitely spent way too much money on. henry overwhelms them with multiple small presents, each inspired by an inside joke they share or an offhand comment the person made and winds up spending as much as gansey.

36. who is the social media addict?

idk if he’s a social media ADDICT, but henry uses social media the most. blue grew up without a home computer or a smart phone, and gansey uses both for only 3 things: schoolwork, research, and GPS. so henry is really the only one that uses social media a Normal Teenager Amount. and he loves memes.

37. height difference or age difference?

height difference. i’d say gansey has 6 inches on blue and henry has 6 inches on him, so sometimes when they stand or walk together they look like cellular bars.

38. who likes to star gaze?

all of them. stargazing is one of their go-to date activities, especially for blue and gansey since it reminds them of their early days. they both have special individual things they do with henry too, of course.

39. who buys cereal for the prize inside?

either blue or henry depending on the prize. blue never got prizes as a kid bc they only bought generic cereal in the big plastic bags, and now she is living The High Life (more like the small luxury millennial life). henry is probably the one that first points out the cereals with the best prizes. gansey eats the cereal because he lovs the cronch.

40. who is the fun parent/ who is the responsible parent?

i feel like they have pretty good balance here?? gansey is a professor/writer so he stays at home with the kids most often and is about the same proportion of stern/pushover with them as he is with ronan in canon lmfao. the more deeply involved in a project he is, the more he can be convinced to let the rules slide. 

henry is an environmental activist with a nonprofit and an occasional lobbyist, so he has much more typical 9-5 hours. he is probably much more fun than gansey, but their kids think he is insufferably, adorably uncool with his retro pop music and graphic tees under blazers and nicknames. 

blue does ecological field research for weeks at a time and then comes home and writes papers for the next few months. she has 2 competing desires as a parent: 1. make up for lost time with lots of spoiling and 2. make up for lost discipline and moral instruction with lots of discourse.

41. who cries during sad movies? 

gansey and henry cry really easily at sad movies but like,,, rarely cry over real life stuff. meanwhile, blue is the opposite because she’s pretty bad at suspending her disbelief when interacting with fiction.

42. who is the neat freak?

i think blue and henry butt heads a little bit here because blue likes for everything to have its place and hates actual mess and unclean things BUT her idea of neat is a lot more cluttered and homey, very much inspired by 300 fox way. henry doesn’t clean often, but when he does he wants things to ACTUALLY be neat and tidy and put away. 

meanwhile, gansey has his office where chaos rules and only he knows where anything is.

43. who wins the stuffed animals at the carnival for the other one?

they probably go to a carnival or town fair on their road trip and gansey and henry compete to get blue stuffed animals (only 50% ironically) and blue gets mad and gets her own damn stuffed animal and then for good measure one for each of her boys.

44. who is active/ who is lazy?

idk about “”active”” as in fit and sporty but blue likes to keep herself busy. she always has 5 projects going and likes to get out of the house at least once a day even if it’s just for a walk around the block. gansey has homebody phases and active phases. henry feels like he works pretty hard and has enough adventures to justify a little bit of lazing about the house.

45. who is more likely to get drunk?

i mean, on the road trip if they’re drinking, they pretty much always all get drunk together unless a designated driver is needed in which case they take turns. gansey has the lowest tolerance tho, so he’s always first to get drunk.

and while henry and gansey are at school together, blue gets a lot of midnight facetime calls from her boys, sloppy drunk and over-affectionate and cute.

46. who has the longer food order?

it’s definitely gansey, and it’s definitely 50% a picky eater thing and 50% an entitled rich white man thing. like, okay, gansey ii seems like a good dad but he’s definitely that guy whose like “i’m a paying customer i deserve to get exactly what i want and am paying for,” and gansey sort of grew up seeing that as pretty normal, so he gives all sorts of unnecessary extra instructions to the waiter.

blue’s like “u know u can just tell them u don’t want pickles or onions on the burger, right? u don’t have to teach them step-by-step how to grill it. the waiter isn’t even cooking ur burger, tho know she is definitely spitting on it.”

henry chimes in a very helpful “yeah, stop mansplaining the burger.”

47. who has the more complex coffee order?

henry. gansey likes black coffee or ridiculous fraps, no in between. blue gets really simple coffees and totally makes them over at the counter w/ the cinnamon and vanilla and cocoa shakers. meanwhile, henry has to inquire as to whether the beans are ethically sourced and ask about all the specials and what is most popular and what does the barista like best and after all that just gets the thing he saw recommended on instagram the other day.

48. who loses stuff?

losing stuff? excuse you, this crew’s game is FINDING (bunch of hufflepuff wannabes). the only exception is gansey pulling a velma with his glasses.

49. who is the driver/ who is the passenger?

they rotate on the road trip because like,,, u gotta. but i think gansey likes driving the most, and henry likes it the least. when they’re in college and blue comes to visit, she does all the driving in her ecopig. henry always calls shottie no blitz because the passenger seat comes with all the best jobs: music duty, navigation, hand-holding, feeding french fries to ur s.o. in the driver seat, etc. if blue’s not driving, she actually likes the backseat best most of the time bc she can fully stretch out across it lmao.

50. who is the hopeless romantic?

ALL of these fools. have you HEARD their narration?!