#and lets all pretend its a full on selfie ok people

[kouros-herc]

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HercAtOlympus: Been doing lots of work in the pool this winter, but it’s great to be getting back in the gym!

[jakekiszkasleftnutsack]

Fan Service - Chapter 2

Josh Kiszka x f!reader

. . . . . . .

Read Chapter 1 here

Summary: After a passionate night in Josh’s dressing room it’s time to camp for another round of DIG. What could the universe possibly have on deck to ruin the third concert in the Michigan lineup?

Warnings: 18+ content minors DNI, swearing, feelings, pining, fingering, dom!Josh, unprotected sex (advised against), oral sex (m and f receiving), praise kink, general roughness, etc.

W/c: 7.5k

A/n: Here it is. It’s been a minute since I’ve been this motivated to write so the timeline is a little wonky, just pretend it makes sense ok. I appreciate everyone who sent me requests and suggestions for this series, and special thanks as always to my gresties for cheering me on. Again, apologies for my shameless self insert. Hopefully we like where this story goes, let me know your thoughts! Thank you for the continued support, i love you all!

Edited by the lovely @gretasamfeettt

Vibes: Something About You - Level 42 and golden hour - JVKE

. . . . . . .

Being born and raised in the Midwest has made you mostly impartial to the cold. You’d spent many a chilly night around dying campfires, many afternoons skiing down powdered hills, and even more mornings trudging through snowbanks just to get to school. Spending ten hours trying to sleep on cold concrete with only a tent to protect you from the early March wind and snow, however, is turning out to be a little out of your comfort zone.

You don’t really mind though, you’d happily suffer through any amount of discomfort to see your favorite band, and having your two best friends with you does dull the pain somewhat. It had been their idea originally to camp out for the slew of shows happening in your area, so you all bought your tickets months in advance and spent the days leading up meticulously preparing. The vibe has been a bit off ever since you rejoined your group the night before, haphazardly dressed after a romp with a rockstar, but they seem excited for you all the same.

Now that you’ve had time to register the events of the night before, you’re scared shitless. You were living in the moment, but when time resumed its normal pace, the reality that Josh Kiszka picked you is almost too much to bear. You were hesitant to give up too many details when they tried to poke and prod them out of you, even if it meant they would believe you to be mildly full of shit. Hell, you can hardly believe it yourself, but there’s no part of you that’s willing to risk breaking his confidence. The experience you shared with Josh was special to you, and you will not be souring it by any means.

You look down at your phone and reread the last text he sent you, ‘I better see you there.

Josh does own a cell phone and uses it quite often, to your complete surprise. After you rejoined your friends the previous night and began the drive to the next city on your roster, you texted your name to the number he gave you. He texted back immediately to wish you a good night, and when morning came and you wished him good luck he returned with that little crumb.

He wants to see me again… Of all people…

He’s probably just being polite…

“Smile for Joshy!” You extend your arm to snap a selfie, posing in line outside the venue to send him in return. The bundled faces of you and your friends are doing their best to smile through clenched teeth and not look frigid in the Michigan winter air.

The caption reads ‘Camping out just to be sure you do’, and you send it off after gaining an approving nod from everyone.

“I’m not convinced this isn’t some sort of elaborate ruse,” your best friend, Quinn, jests after dropping the smile she forced for the picture. “If you’re Josh Kiszka’s sneaky link now then how come we don’t have backstage passes?”

“Ohh my god. I’m not some clout chaser, I can’t just ask him for things ‘cause he paid attention to me once.” You scoff slightly at the insinuation. How could you possibly ask that man for anything after he already gave you the time of day?

Your answer must not be satisfactory, prompting a retort back. “Okay, but he gave you his phone number, and he’s still texting you? If he didn’t like you he would’ve just let you leave. I saw the way he watched you get whisked away, it was like a fucking romance movie.”

He did give me his number, some random one-night stands I’ve had haven’t even given me their phone numbers afterward. Maybe there’s a point there..

The thought feels so ridiculous in your mind you barely want to let it take root. He’s already taking up so much of your headspace, letting the idea that you might have a chance with him seems much too dangerous of a concept.

“Would you stop getting my hopes up? Everybody knows they don’t have groupies… plus he just slept with me the one time, it didn’t mean anything.” You trail off, suddenly disappointed with yourself for remembering that small fact.

Disappointed about what? Getting attached already? Pitiful.

“Who said anything about being a groupie? I’m sure that’s not the reason he doesn’t show all his fuck buddies off to the masses.” Nina, the third part of your little trio, chimes in. “If I had known that getting beat up in the pit was the way to bag a Kiszka I would’ve knocked my own ass out in front of them a long time ago.”

“Why does everyone keep saying I got beat up?!”

. . .

Not too much later, your phone lights up, his name is on the screen accompanied by a silly picture of him you had saved. Highway Tune plays loud and clear through the speaker, but all you can do is stare as your fight or flight response kicks into gear. Beyond unprepared for an event like this, you turn your hand to show your friends the screen with a deer in headlights look on your face.

“Speakerphone, bitch. Now!” Nina screams at you frantically as the opportunity slips away.

Fuck.

With an appropriate sense of urgency, you clear your throat and swipe across the glass to answer with a cute but casual “Hey!”

“I’m sorry, you’re doing what?” In your experience, no introduction means business. Even when separated by the phone and however many miles, his slightly acidic tone gives you chills.

“Camping! Ya know, for the barricade!”

“You mean you’re outside the damn arena right now?” He sounds relatively calm in contrast to the intensity of his words, it’s hard to tell if he’s really angry or not.

“Well yeah! It’s how you get to be up front… you do know what goes down at your shows, right?” you giggle in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Y/n… How long have you been out there?”

“I don’t know… some hours…” You dart your eyes to the girls, silently begging them to not say a word about how you drove through the night on no sleep from the previous show to get right back in line for another.

“It’s freezing fucking cold outside, absolutely not, I won’t have it.”

What the fuck does that mean?

“You won’t have it? It’s what everybody does, honestly, it’s fine I have my friends with me. It’s part of the whole experience.”

A contemplative sigh comes from his end of the line followed by a long pause.

“Josh?” You hear some distant voices and shuffling around coming from whoever he’s taken a second to speak to.

“Your friends can come too.” He finally answers.

“Josh, what are you…you’re not sending another goon to kidnap me again, are you?”

“Yeah Peach, stay put for me alright?” The line beeps dead, leaving everyone's jaws dropped at the audacity.

After a moment passes, Quinn is the first to say something. “So. Peach, huh?”

. . .

Faster than you had expected, a wide guy in a baseball cap with a scruffy beard approaches you and your friends in line. You instantly recognize him to be the same guy that rescued you from the pit and kept you like a present for Josh backstage the night before.

“Hey, it’s you!” You exclaim, relieved to be seeing a somewhat familiar face.

“Nice to see you again, Miss y/n. Mr. Kiszka asked me to show you and your friends inside.”

Slightly panicked glances are being shot all around amongst yourselves as you pack up your stuff, unsure of the unorthodox situation that won’t stop unfolding. Gossipy murmurs and glares are shot your way from those in line who may have been snooping, but once your blankets and chairs are picked up he leads you around the side of the building to a door out of sight from the other campers.

“What’s your name?” You ask him as you follow his lead close behind. “Since you know my name I don’t wanna keep calling you security boy.”

He chuckles and shoots a smile over his shoulder. “I’m Trevor, but security boy is fine if you like it.”

“Okay, security boy. How long have you worked for Josh?”

“I’ve been head security for the band for a couple months now.”

“I thought they just used venue security, I never see them out and about with bodyguards.”

“You’re half right. I mostly oversee the local security teams at the concerts and events, but they’ve been needing personal security more than usual lately. Besides, I’m pretty much an assistant at this point with how much they have me run errands like this.”

“Oh, so I’m just another errand, huh?”

“I’m more like your babysitter at this point, don’t you think?” You share a laugh, and instantly tension begins to ease.

You arrive at a small dressing room, which he unlocks and opens up for your group to drop your coats. One by one he hands you each a lanyard with a badge attached, indicating your new security clearance.

“You can warm up and get changed in here, I’ll come to get you when it’s time to head on out. I’ll leave ya to it.”

Josh has him ‘run errands’ a lot, I hope this isn’t something he’s used to…

“Wait…” Standing in the doorway once your group has started unpacking, you fight with yourself for a moment about whether you should ask the million-dollar question. “Is Josh… does he do this a lot? I mean…”

It rolls out with the most pathetically apprehensive voice you’ve ever had the displeasure of speaking, upon hearing it you wish you could take it back. He looks at you for a moment but ultimately seems to take pity on you and places a hand on your shoulder. “No ma’am, he doesn’t.”

He seems earnest enough, and you believe him as much as two strangers can trust each other in these kinds of circumstances. His gesture is enough to soothe a bit of the self-doubt that hasn’t left you alone for about 24 hours.

“Thank you, Trevor.” He touches the bill of his hat and tips it with a gentlemanly nod and half a smile before turning away, leaving you to close the door behind him.

. . .

As the lot of you are getting ready, putting makeup on, and doing your hair, you hear a knock on the door followed by Trevor’s voice. “You ladies decent?”

“Yeah, come in”. You answer without looking up from the flick of eyeliner you’re expertly applying in the mirror.

The door clicks open and the honey-smooth voice floats in before the man himself. “How’s everything coming along in here?,” he says, casual as can be. You flicker your attention up to catch his cocky smile when he enters still in his street clothes. You can’t help but chuckle a little to yourself as you watch your friends attempt to stifle their reactions, but ultimately fail while tripping over each other to meet him.

He greets them politely, asking their names and apologizing for any discomfort in rooting you from your spots in line. As any good fangirl would, they decline his apology and thank him for the opportunity to be inside instead.

“The guys and I were all really worried about everyone out there in the cold, but we know you’re all so dedicated, we couldn’t stop you if we tried.” They agree with him, giggling shamelessly at the charm that seems to come so naturally to him. Watching him interact with fans after knowing how he acts in private is almost comical.

“We really do appreciate you setting aside a spot for us, we know you’re really busy.” You pipe up for the first time.

Gross. You really couldn’t think of anything better to say? Idiot.

He locks eyes with you from where you’re standing against the mirror at the back of the room but says nothing, apart from the way his lips twitch when he takes in the sight of you. Even the blind would be able to notice the instantaneous effect you have on him.

“We didn’t think you guys really knew each other” Nina blurts out while the two odd girls out watch something unspoken bounce back and forth between you.

“Oh no, we definitely know each other. Isn’t that right y/n?” You know the question is rhetorical, but you tip your chin slightly in agreement anyway, a blistering heat behind your eyes. “Would I be able to get a few minutes alone with your friend here, if you guys don’t mind? She’ll join you in a moment, Trevor is just out in the hall to show you to some snacks.”

They nod and scurry out of the room, offering supportive glances, a suggestive wink, and a pair of smiles from behind his back as they file out quicker than you can protest.

His entire demeanor changes when the two of you are left standing alone in the confines of the dressing room, free from anything that could act as a buffer. He was gracious and polite with your friends, clearly putting on a little bit, but you’re with a different person once he shuts and locks the door behind them. Just like the other night, the tension in the surrounding air is palpable.

Don’t make a fool of yourself. Don’t be desperate and weird. You can do this y/n, be confident and breathe.

“You didn’t have to go out of your way to do all this, Josh.” You set down your eyeliner on the counter behind you, doing your best to appear nonchalant despite your heart doing its very best to pound its way out of your chest. As exciting as being in his presence is, you’re also terrified to your core. The energy shift is so seamless you have no room to be rattled by his next move.

Josh shakes his head as he strides towards you, as if hearing the silliest words ever spoken into existence. He closes the gap between you in a few short paces, trapping you in place against the counter. There are barely a few inches between your bodies but you’re steadfast in your cool as a cucumber facade, no matter how unconvincing it may be.

“As much as I appreciate the time you’re willing to put in, I wish you had told me you were gonna wait out in the cold. I could’ve saved you so much earlier.”

“I didn’t really think that was an option. I don’t expect any special treatment.” You long to reach out and touch him, to tear down the invisible barrier holding you back. It’s scary, like there’s some sort of rule you’d be breaking if you did. You’re just trying to be respectful, when in reality that’s the last thing you want to do.

“You should. I can’t give it to everybody but I can give it to you.” Your cheeks flush red forcing you to look down and away from him to avoid getting too flustered, only for him to raise your chin again with one finger to keep your eyes on him, ensuring you really hear what he has to say. “You’re not part of the general population anymore mama, you’re my sweet peach, remember?”

In the wake of his genuinely sweet albeit loaded comment, a wave of emotion returns to blindside you, shattering your smoke screen of indifference like a freight train.

Does he crave me in the same way I crave him?

Could he ever feel anything close to what I feel?

I idolize and ache for him, but what does he think of me?

He’s already been inside me. He’s already had more of me than most other men ever have.

I’ve earned his favor and attention, why am I so quick to reject it?

Does he pity me?

What if he just pities me…

“I’m scared.” You choke out. Without a high to hide behind there’s nothing to stop your bleeding heart from exploding right here in his hands. He catches up with your train of thought though and is so quick to reassure you it might as well be second nature.

“Y/n, what are you scared of?” his eyes flicker back and forth as he searches yours.

“That none of this is real.” you feel you should elaborate but you can’t. Any attempt at trying to explain the thoughts that have been gnawing at you would come out like word vomit. Some preconceived notion you cooked up in your paralyzing anxiety is telling you not to act like his stardom has any effect on you. You’ve wrapped yourself in a cage of barbed wire made of your own cowardice, only to be cut open if a single wrong move is made. He probably goes out of his way to avoid girls like that, so you exercise the minimal restraint you feel capable of to keep it short. Out of fear, of course.

Ever so delicately he takes your hand, brings it to his lips, and ghosts your knuckles along the baby soft skin that rests there. In a breath he leaves a kiss, focusing on the spot for a moment before returning focus to your wet eyes.

“Last night I asked you to trust me and you did, and I took good care of you. Do you still trust me?”

You nod your head.

“Then trust that I’ll continue to take care of you, okay? This is real, I’m real. Look…” he bares his teeth over the back of your hand and play bites it, making you gasp mostly in surprise but you laugh it off crudely, your heart flutters. “See? You’re real too, Peach.”

Of course, Josh would never miss a beat. Of course, all it would take is a teaspoon of vulnerability to prompt him to keep the floodgates from giving way completely to whatever bullshit mess you could concoct.

Stop being so foolish.

You sniffle away the remnants of what could have been a colossal breakdown and crack a smile at him through batted lashes. “Peach.. Is that my name now?”

He nods, moving his lips against your skin again. “I like it, think it’s cute, don’t you?”

“Mhm, it is… I could’ve braved through the cold ya know, hands down.”

“Would you stop complaining every time I try to rescue you?” he snorts in a teasing way that makes you giggle and bite your lip like a little kid with a crush. You try not to get distracted by his chestnut brown eyes, shining bright.

“Anything for you.” For good measure, you toss in a flirty wink with your same line from the night before.

“Again with that shit, babygirl.. I oughta spank you for getting me worked up before a performance. God, you are relentless!”

Finally, you decide to stop fighting the magnetic energy pulling you toward him and lean into his frame. “And I don’t even have to say please?”

A choked moan barely escapes him, and he plays it off with a fake as hell cough that only serves to make you giggle.

“Fuck…” he gives you another quick once over in your concert outfit, smoothing over where he’s wrinkled it in a few spots and breaks out in a smirk, still holding your chin in place to keep you from looking elsewhere, “You look delicious, Peach. Are you me this time?”

The outfit in question just so happens to be a top modeled after the jumpsuit he wore in Los Angeles during the Strange Horizons tour paired with a miniskirt. Pure groupie behavior, yet again. You do your best not to roll your eyes at yourself.

“So, I didn’t plan on meeting you when I picked out my-“ in very Joshua fashion, he just can’t wait until the end of your sentence to swoop in for a bruising, searing hot open mouthed kiss that almost makes you stumble. Your lips mash together sloppily but you don’t care. You just want to feel like he has to have you, maybe he really does.

“How’s that bruised peach doing?” His words are barely intelligible at the lowest end of his register and doesn’t wait for an answer before reaching for the hem of your skirt. “Show me.”

You let him spin you around and hike up your skirt around your hips so he has full access to the panties adorning the purple blotches on your skin. There hasn’t been quite enough time for you to inspect the damage made by your fall, but he’s careful to avoid it.

“I know they’re pretty ugly.” you try to avoid thinking about it, instead focusing on his hand that’s made its way between your legs and is exploring the lacy edge of your panties. Another part of you is hoping the edge of the counter won’t crack under your iron-clad grip on it, purely keeping your knees from losing their integrity.

“Hush, sweetness. Look.” his free hand wraps around you to grab your chin, forcing your gaze upon the mirror you’ve found yourself facing. “See how beautiful you are? Nothing could taint that.”

Right then, he slips his hand under the lace and dives into your slit, already wet to the touch. You’re not sure why watching his hand move obscenely against you has you feeling so embarrassed, but when you see your own cheeks turning rosy you try to turn and protest the position. “Josh..”

“Don’t look away. Watch me.” he holds you still, pressing two of his fingers into you with a squelch. Watching yourself was one thing, but seeing the look on his face when he makes contact with that heavenly gummy texture is something that will be seared into your mind forever. It’s close to a look of pain, like he can’t stand just how unreal you feel to him.

“Good God, y/n.” he stays tucked inside for a few pumps of his wrist before leaving your warmth to press those drenched fingers to your lips. You don’t need a command this time to open up and lick them clean.

“How can I possibly focus on putting on a good show when you’re out here distracting me? Saboteur, that’s what you are!”

“And how am I supposed to enjoy the music I paid good money to see if you’re just gonna be making me horny? Are you going to repay me?”

“Well… you got me there. Maybe if you behave.”

. . .

Now, typically when one has backstage passes to a concert, that usually grants access to back stage. It’s right there in the name. However, you camped with your friends for however long before Joshua stepped in, and your hopes have been set on snagging a spot at the barricade. It’s not something you’re all too fond of giving up on.

Once Josh had released you from his grasp and excused himself to get ready, leaving you with a kiss on the cheek as you part ways, your friends returned with the news that the doors were about to open. It took some light convincing on your part, but Trevor agreed to let you into the pit early so you can secure a spot up front. Watching from backstage the night before was really cool, of course it was, but this is an experience you’d been dreaming of for just as long. Josh Kiszka is not going to be the reason you miss it.

Standing where you are now, directly in front of where he’ll be standing shortly with the gardens gate key hanging high above you, your stomach is firmly planted in your ass. The openers were amazing, adding to the intense build up of the curtain dropping any minute now. You feel almost more nervous now than you did the first time around, but this time it’s a different breed.

When the curtain finally falls and the shrieks of the girls around you dampen your senses, he’s right where he’s supposed to be and instant relief washes over you. Chest puffed out, wide stance, head held high, utterly ecstatic. You can trace his eyes scanning the audience, taking in the sheer mass of the crowd and every face that he can make out. Until they land on you. It’s subtle, but you can tell he wasn’t expecting to see you there, cheering for him as he so deserves.

“Give me my money’s worth, baby!” you don’t care if he can hear you or not, you’re not even sure of the words that spewed out. Everybody knows the most unhinged thoughts sometimes slip in the presence of these men anyway.

He lingers on you with the smuggest expression, a hint of deviance mixed in as well, and licks his lips before diving into the lyrics of their first song.

Yeah, he heard me, that little fucker.

Song after song you hype him up, screaming his name and blowing him kisses, singing along to every single word. Each and every time he lands in front of you he does something ridiculously out of pocket and slutty. Whether it be thrusting his hips, licking his lips, or growling into the damn microphone, he makes eye contact with you every single time.

Every. Single. Time. Without fail.

Oh my god. He’s actually taunting me…

“Who’s misbehaving now, Joshy!?” you scream when he lets a particularly moan-like cry sound out through the arena. It’s your last straw when he sticks his tongue out at you in response. All you can think about is how badly you want to see that tongue somewhere else, and how you want to make him pay for his actions when you finally can.

He’s incorrigible

As the end of Safari Song dawns you recognize the familiar rhythm that marks the beginning of Danny’s drum solo. A fluttering feeling returns to your chest with the realization, because the drum solo also happens to be when Josh rides the shoulders of a security guard to pass out roses.

When he reaches you, he places a rose purposefully in your hand and you try not to swoon when he winks at you from his high horse. He’ll be coming back around shortly to have some face-to-face time with his adoring fans, but with how hard he’s been throwing his sexuality around the stage for the whole world to see you quickly try to think of something that will make him swoon back.

Like a wave, the screaming and shuffling of young women starts to crawl back in your direction, and you’ve finally settled on your move as he appears in your line of sight once again. Instead of blindly reaching for him hoping for just a touch of attention like everyone else, you make eye contact with him as he approaches and hold out your hand open faced. He seems to think nothing of the out of the ordinary gesture and reaches out. In a split second, you fake him out as he’s about to grab your hand, surpassing his grasp to reach up as far as you can.

“Hi baby” is all you can think to say, but it’s more than enough. You can make out the words ‘Hi Peach’ move across his lips with no accompanying sound. Somewhere in the process he catches on and bends just slightly to close the gap for you, never once breaking the eye contact you’re trying so hard to hold. As you reach his face you caress his cheek, using your thumb to slightly grace his bottom lip until he’s pulled out of range.

The exchange barely lasted more than a few heartbeats, but the impact is profound. You didn’t believe it was possible to actually see stars in someone’s eyes until the whole universe manifested in Josh’s. There’s remnants of a blush on the apples of his cheeks when he hops back on stage, and you do your best to vacate the butterflies from your stomach as the show carries on oblivious to your secret.

. . .

After the show ends and the house lights come up, you take your pictures and exchange socials with the girls around you that had bonded with you between sets. Then, once everything has substantially died down, you exchange quick glances at your friends before hopping over the barricade and flashing your security badges at the men who immediately try to stop you.

It’s a funny feeling, floating around backstage aimlessly. You eventually are able to latch onto the sound of Trevor’s voice and follow it until you see the boys huddled around talking, already changed out of their concert attire. Sam and Jake notice you before he does, but you tap Josh on the shoulder anyway. When he turns he smiles like the sunshine boy he is, rushes to you without hesitation and wraps his arms around you, picks you up, and spins you around like you’re old friends in an airport who haven’t seen each other in years.

“Holyyy shit, Peach! Did you get your money’s worth?” he cries gleefully as he sets you down and squishes your cheeks between his palms, knocking loose a few rhinestones you had placed there.

“And more! You acted like a proper slut out there!”

“Thank you, thank you, I try my best. I didn’t expect you to be right in front! You almost had me for a minute there, mama.”

“Yeah, well you deserved it.”

“Ahem,” Jake slaps a hand down on Josh’s shoulder and turns his attention to you. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything. Dear brother, why don’t you introduce us to your friend?”

You take matters into your own hands and thrust yours out to him, which he shakes warmly smiling a devilish grin to match. “Hello Jacob, I’m y/n.”

“Ahhh so this is the dreamboat that kept you so preoccupied last night!?” Sam interjects, pulling you away from the twins and into a hug that you were not prepared for but accept happily anyway.

“Hi Sammy, sorry for keeping him from his important frontman duties.”

“Well shit, he’s not that important.” he laughs, jabbing a playful shove at his eldest brother's shoulder, prompting a scuffle to ensue that you carefully step away from. In taking a step back you bump into Danny, who was standing off to the side with his arms crossed watching the encounter unfold.

“Oops, sorry.” he catches and steadies you, keeping you from taking a tumble when you try to correct yourself but instead misstep.

I just cannot stop being clumsy for two seconds, can I?

“You sweet, sweet angel. You never have to apologize to me Danny,” already being in close proximity, you wrap him in the biggest hug you can manage. “That was my bad anyway.”

“Oh, wow. You’re so sweet, it’s so nice to meet you.”

“Ditto, my friend.” you try not to think about how that was the best hug anyone has ever given you.

You introduce your friends to the rest of the band one at a time and return to Josh’s side, allowing everyone to get their hugs in, some lingering a bit longer than they should. Everyone mingles with each other discussing the events of the night, laughing about things that were thrown on stage and signs that were made until you notice Josh’s arm snaking its way around your waist to pull you flush against him.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” he whispers in your ear, “To the hotel this time?”

If smiles were contagious the one that splits your face in that moment would have everyone infected.

“Love to.” you nod to emphasize your point then turn to say your goodbyes to Quinn and Nina, who are probably just fine being left in their present company. The last thing you need is a thousand missed texts and calls from them if you were to just disappear into the night. Josh does no such thing and makes his move to whisk you away rather hastily.

Trevor, who was standing close by, escorts the two of you outside, blocking you from the view of a small huddle of girls waiting for a glimpse of the boys. You must have stood around talking for too long based on how many of them have accumulated. You make your way to a blacked out car waiting with a driver ready to go, and slide in as quickly as possible. It’s a short drive to the hotel but Josh insists on taking a moment to pick a song for the journey before taking off.

“Come on, Joshua” you roll your eyes playfully as he scrolls through an endless playlist.  

“Shut up and hear me out, okay? The song choice is important!”

The first couple notes of Your Love play through the speakers, but he turns to you slowly to see your reaction like he just told you he knows your deepest darkest secrets.

“I thought you guys were supposed to have pretentious music taste?” you tease. 

“What?! You don’t like this song? Who doesn’t like this song?!”

He breaks into song in the middle of the lyrics at the top of his lungs just for you, clearly to annoy you, but little does he know that everything he’s ever done is endearing beyond comprehension.  You might have even been disappointed if he didn’t pull something that gave you just a tinge of secondhand embarrassment.  His charisma and silliness are becoming and the way he’s singing, waiting for you to give in and humor him has you jumping in at the chorus, matching his energy.  It’s the power ballad to end all power ballads.

I’m singing with Josh Kiszka.  Josh is singing to me.  What the fuck is my life becoming? 

As the music fades out of the chorus and you’re left giggling at the antics, you look out your open window to feel the wind on your face and revel in the ambiance of the next song paired with passing street lights against a black sky.  If you were paying attention you’d see Josh’s stare never left you.  He’s watching you, fawning over you, taken by your beauty as you admire the night.

. . .

Josh lets you into the room first to venture in on your own, you look around briefly at nothing in particular until you hear the door close and lock. When he doesn’t immediately come to you, you turn to catch him subtly admiring you. He meets your gaze and reaches a hand out to you, his eyes are soft but set ablaze with determination.

“I don’t think you know how magnetic you are.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You take his hand, and once they’ve met he pulls you towards him, only to be turned and pressed against the wall at your back. He kisses you passionately just like earlier, you can feel the adrenaline thumping his heart against his ribcage so hard you think you could see it beneath his supple skin if you weren’t so occupied.

He grabs your ass with both hands and slides them down the backs of your thighs, guiding each one with an effortless lift to rest around his waist. You didn’t expect him to be so strong, but he cradles you with such care despite how ravenously his mouth moves down your chin to lap at your throat. In the darkest depths of your mind, you wish he would take a bite.

You grind your hips against the nearest thing you can, which happens to be his stomach, it heaves at the motion causing you to groan. Every little move you make elicits a clear visceral reaction, making the pit in your stomach tunnel deeper by the minute.

You want to tell him to tear you apart.  You want to tell him to bury himself inside you and stay there until he’s contemplated his own existence, twice.  All that you’re able to form into a coherent thought is “Joshy, more…” 

“Making demands already?” he mumbles into the crook of your neck.

You take no notice of his taunt and start pulling at his clothes blindly, making no real progress towards getting them off, to his amusement. An unmistakable poke makes itself known against your panties, which happen to be exposed to the air by the shortness of your skirt in your current position.

“Don’t ignore me, princess.” he runs his teeth along your collarbone as he digs into the meat of your thigh with his fingers, and a tortured moan vibrates out of you in return. “What do you say when you want something?”

“Please!” you practically scream “Dear God, please. Please just fuck me already!” The last of your self respect flies out the window, but to be fair it’s mostly been absent since he stepped out on stage to fuck the entire stadium.

One of his hands leaves your body, awkwardly and desperately reaching to unbuckle his pants, your faces pressed together cheek to cheek. You hold onto his shoulders on instinct to keep from falling to the floor, though he has you pinned so tightly between the wall and his own body you could let go of him entirely and remain in place. Your cunt pulses in anticipation when he ruts his freed cock against the thin material covering you. The wetness of your panties must be ridiculous, as the shaky breath coming from him feels beyond depraved.

“Y/n, oh my.. Fuck.” he slides it against the material once more while holding you still, using you in a sense, taking what he needs, and you wait patiently while he does.

Because that’s what good girls do.

He praises you while he reaches to pull your panties to the side and nuzzles his tip against your entrance. His head rolls back when he thrusts inside, leaving you huffing quick and shallow breaths against his ear, wisps of his hair tickling your nose as they’re blown around. He hums a sound of delight and settles into a comfortable yet delicious rhythm of bucking his hips up to meet your core.

“Who’s good girl are you? Say it.” he sounds like he might be close to his climax, so you humor him and fist your hand into his hair just how he likes it.

“I’m yours, Josh. I’m your good girl.”

I belong to you.  I always will.

He whines at your response and his pace changes, speeding up but stuttering. He claws at your delicate top, tearing it at the neckline to rip down the middle, exposing your bouncing breasts to him in a way that would ignite the most perverted parts of any man’s brain.

“Are you gonna cum in me, baby?” you tighten your walls around him, approaching your own feeling of ecstasy.

He just nods fervently and adjusts his grip on your ass, his fingers wandering as far as they can to grab a handful until they’re almost touching in the middle. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t for him to use his grip to spread your cheeks, parting your folds to allow him an unobstructed reach into your depths. “I can’t fucking wait, I’m gonna…” he strains to speak, fucking into you to the hilt as he twitches inside you and cum overflows from your meeting point as he completely loses himself in you.

Carefully, he steps back with you still in his arms, retreating to take a seat on the edge of the bed. Still straddling him, you settle onto his cock which has yet to soften.

“I’m sorry, Peach. I got too excited.” his head rests on your shoulder as he catches his breath.

“No, don’t be sorry. I wanted you to cum, it feels good.”

“You can feel it?” the genuine surprise on his face when he looks up at you in pleased shock makes you giggle, and the sight of your delight makes him laugh along with you as he moves his hands to rub little circles over your hardened nipples.

“Yeah I can, I feel it right here… deep inside.” you place one finger between his hips in the center of his abdomen and press down, making him giggle uncontrollably and lurch to swat at your hand.

“No no no no, I’m ticklish!”

You hold your hands up in surrender, and after the laughing subsides, he lays back on the bed, sprawling out under your weight. “Well, I’m not gonna let you leave empty handed. Get up here.” he gestures for you to follow him by curling his finger at you and licks his lips.

You slide him out of you and shift your weight to move up his body until his head is between your legs.

“Other way, mama. Turn around.” you quirk an eyebrow at him but do as he says, carefully avoiding kneeing him in the face as you turn to face his feet. As you get into position, he rests his hands on the tops of your legs. “All the way down.”

You resist the urge to laugh. “I’ll crush you.”

“No you won’t, it’s ‘kay, I got you.” he wraps his arms all the way around your legs and lowers you until his extended tongue makes contact. Immediately he goes for the motions that spark pleasure in you the most, it makes you suspect that he’s learning your body quicker than any mediocre fuckboy ever has.

How his cock is still hard as a rock is beyond you, seemingly impossible, but makes for something to keep your hands busy with while he eats you like a last meal.  You’ve spent an unreasonable amount of time on your own imagining what his cock looks like, having access to it this way feels like such a privilege.  

Taking him in your hand, you lazily work your fist over him and lean just enough to leave kitten licks on the head of his cock, teasing it and coaxing flustered noises out of him that reverberate through your whole body. You rotate your hips the slightest bit, adjusting his position without breaking his concentration as he consumes you, sucking up the juices that leak out and lapping at your clit every time you let out a broken sigh.

“Josh.. don’t stop.”. That familiar building feeling begins its ascent when he sucks your clit into his mouth, leaving you mewling as you suckle on him helplessly.

Light muffled moans just cascade out of his chest with little words of affirmation peppered in, you swear you think you heard him say ‘so perfect’ under his breath, but you can’t be sure of his incoherent ramblings. After a few moments of enjoying the perfect pressure on your most sensitive parts, you let your orgasm wash over you, and you cum on his tongue that’s ventured back to your opening to dip inside and scoop out the spoils of his efforts. You almost stop him when he continues backward to spread your own cum around your other entrance, but the warm sticky feeling he swirls around with long languid strokes paralyzes you into a fucked out stupor.

“Feel better?” he sprinkles little kisses across your thighs, craning his neck to leave more and more as you swing your leg over to relieve him of his fleshy prison and collapse onto your back.

You manage a happy sounding ‘mmm’ when he climbs on top of you to kiss each of your cheeks and retreats to your side once you reciprocate with a peck on the tip of his nose and a smile. He relaxes into the bed with you, letting one hand fall into your hair, and you just lie together in your shared bliss.

. . .

You chat about nonsense for an unknown amount of time until the chill of the room forces you to finally stand up.

“Where are you going?”

“Just to the bathroom, gonna freshen up.” On the way there you grab your purse and your clothes, and thank your past self for having the foresight to pack a few toiletries in your bag the day before. As you’re about to close the door behind you, his voice stops you.

“Hey, Peach?”

“Yeah?” you poke your head back out into the room, he’s sitting up in bed and looking at you but you can’t quite place the look on his face.

“Will you… stay with me tonight? You can wear some of my clothes or I can grab some from Danny…” the concern in his voice could melt you, but you can’t tell if he’s scared of asking the question or what the answer might be. In a weird way though, it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever heard.

Be still my heart, he’s down bad. 

“Oh, sweet boy. Without question.”

. . .

Josh has to be the handsiest person you’ve ever met. Not that you’re complaining. As you climb back into bed with him he executes no self-control and pulls you into his lap by your waist. If you’re being honest though, you’d let him manhandle you when and where he pleases. Especially now, when he seems unmotivated by sex and just holds you close, but still intimate since you’ve both opted out of pajamas for the night.

You’re absentmindedly wrapping his curly locks around your fingers in the comfortable stillness of his hotel room, surrounded by smoke from the joint he lit up, and listening to him tell you all about life on the road. A quick prompt of ‘what’s the next city on the roster?’ launched a rant that you have no plans on stopping. You really should be sleeping but to silence his perfect lips would be a crime.

Except for…

“Josh?” you accidentally interrupt at the arrival of an intrusive thought.

“Yes, sweetness?”

“When you said earlier that Im not part of the general population anymore, what did you mean?”

“I don’t know. I’m kind of… infatuated with you.”

Infatuated with me? Why?

He reads the puzzled look on your face and continues.

“The way you speak about things and carry yourself. I can tell you’re special. Not only that, but from the first time I saw you I was drawn to you. It’s almost like the universe brought you to my feet. Your face was all tear-stained and your eyes were puffy but you stopped and saw me, you really saw me. I thought ‘this girl is looking into my soul’. ” too stunned to speak, you stay silent and let him carry on. “Ever since then you’ve just kept on astounding me. So when I said that I guess it was me letting you know I want you around, I want you with me.”

Holy shit. What?

. . . . . . .

thank you for reading

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[i-write-things]

Y'know, I feel like dating a Yandere Mark Beaks would be a lot better than dating a regular Mark Beaks. Because while, sure, Yan! Mark is delusional and not gonna give up until you love him, he'll do anything for your love. The ultimate simp. He'll buy you whatever you want, he'll do whatever you want. Just stay with him! All he asks in return for his devotion is love! I mean, you don't get an option in being in all of those selfies, the tours, and dating him, but he's really sweet. And you're the only person he doesn't act arrogant at! Sure, he'll still act and be self centered, but not at you, because he believes that since you two are made for each other, you're on equal level.

Regular Mark Beaks, on the other hand, is a different story. To be honest, I kind of already head canon that Mark IS a yandere, simply because of all the yandere traits he has shown and the things he has said. However, pretending he is not a yandere, I would say that, while you still get treated better than he treats anyone else, he probably believes he is like, one more step important than you. You only become as important as him when you date, but even then, he still thinks he's more important. I also feel like he'd lie a lot more. And while you aren't forced into the relationship, it's still pretty bad. Because if you reject his confession of love, two things could happen.

Best case scenario: he's like, "Ok, whatever, didn't like you anyway."

Worst case scenario: He destroys your social media presence and your entire social life. He would probably do this if you broke up with him. If he ever broke up with you, he probably wouldn't do this, but he might depending on why he broke things off.

its not to say regular Mark isn't affectionate, but if your main love language is physical contact, good luck. He doesn't like people touching him. And while he is more accepting of you, there will be times he doesn't want to be touched by anyone. He's also really unpredictable with what he wants and when he wants affection, and he gets upset when you can't read his mind for when he wants that attention.

However, he does have his silver linings! For starters, he brings you with him almost everywhere, if you'll let him drag you. (You probably will, because he will be very persistent about it) He also takes you to the finest places as well. Oh, I mean, you don't get an option in being in his selfies and live streams, but don't worry! The chat loves you, and the comments are always full of support! They even gave you a nickname to call you, it's pretty cute, actually. Oh, but if someone DOES dare insult his love? oh boy, they made a huge mistake. No one treats his love that way! He will make sure that all their socials are getting harassed by his followers. He won't even give the person time to apologize, nor will he feel bad.

Over all, Mark is actually not that bad to have as a lover. Yan! Mark is better in my opinion because he's very affectionate and, unlike regular Mark, LIVES for your touch and praise. I mean, as I said before, I'm pretty sure Mark IS a yandere, (which would make sense, because there's always anime themes and references in his episodes), but again, this is just pretending that's not the case.

[permanentcrossfics]

Blurred Lines: Until They Met Again // h.s.

Italics sorted (someone tell me why Google Docs doesn’t love me like Microsoft Word did by letting me copy italics?)! Happy reading, all. See you next time x

“So, m’going to be back in New York soon.” Again, you said nothing, and after a beat he continued. “Just for a night or so — I’ll be flying into Philadelphia and then out to LA for some work stuff.”

“Philadelphia to New York to LA?” you asked.

“London to Philadelphia and Philadelphia to LA.”

“So—” Bless whatever and whoever it was that’d sicked the cat on you to catch your tongue before you could ask him why he was coming to New York if he was flying into and out of Philadelphia. “That’ll be nice.”

He cleared his throat again and you dropped your phone from your ear to take a deep breath, suddenly hot.

“Yeah, so,” he began, “I was thinkin’, y’know. If you’re free or you’d like to….”

You’d like to laugh, because this whole thing was wildly fucking funny. Harry Styles was dialing you for a booty call after a one night stand from months ago. Harry Styles was going to detour into the city for one night just for you, and it wasn’t because you’d had such riveting conversation last time.

“When?” Your fingers twitched at your side.

“When’s good for you?”

Read NOW on Patreon // Tumblr // Wattpad // Read the extended ending only on Patreon

So, the truth was: you’d had sex with Harry Styles and forgotten all about him. 

No — seriously. You’d had sex with Harry Styles and forgotten all about him. 

Honestly, it was all more like a fever dream than anything. It’d happened to you — with you — and even you didn’t buy it. Because why would Harry Styles go to a hole in the wall burger place in the middle of New York City? Didn’t he have people to see at much nicer places with way better food? Especially after one of his own concerts, with people wanting to celebrate him?

And the sex…. It wasn’t even the night of that made your toes curl the most. The morning after, in the forty or so minutes it took room service to get to your hotel room? He’d fucked like his life depended on it. You’d been on your belly, and he’d been in it, skin slapping and both of you wheezing and sputtering your ways to the end because in the morning hours, they might care. In the morning, there might be someone who could recognize his voice or who would wonder if you cried out his name — you weren’t the only one who’d grabbed a hotel for the show, after all. Remembering the low, rumbling groan that’d echoed in his throat as he pulsed inside you and pushed his hips just so against you made you clench if you thought about thinking about it.

He’d left, you’d left, and you hadn’t told a single soul — not your friends, not your Instagram, and definitely not your mother. Not because he’d asked you not to, or because you couldn’t, but because it was the right thing to do. Only the worst of people had busy fingers and thumbs to take fishing selfies and post stories that created more talk than their mouths ever could. And honestly? It was easier to pretend it hadn’t happened, because that was absurd. The whole of it from top to bottom was the most hysterical insanity, and if you’d read it in a blind item column, you’d laugh your way around the world and fall off if it was flat.

(But it wasn’t flat, and as it was, you’d go round and round in circles, and where you’d stop, nobody would know.)

So, you had to forget all about him. And it’d worked, too. The end of June bled almost indiscernibly with the beginning of July, the blazing sun of which made all but the most touristy of tourists want to crawl underground. August brought enough relief to make you throw your windows open and lie naked on your bed, hoping a breeze would blow through, but it wasn’t until September you knew peace.

And then you’d picked up the phone. 

It was an unknown number, and you were a 21st century person who routinely ignored any call from any number they didn’t know (and, sometimes, the ones they did). Maybe you knew — maybe that was why, despite your hiss of annoyance, you slid your thumb on the screen. “Hello?” Clipped in anticipation of either a robotic voice or a sales pitch, you barely held the phone to your ear, poised and at the ready to hang up as quickly as you’d picked up. You leaned across your sofa to grab the remote you’d thrown onto the cushions at the opposite end at the start of the film you’d put on. 

“Hey, it’s uh—” The owner of the voice on the other end cleared its throat, but you were already frozen, tense and in shock, prickles erupting on your scalp and up your arms. You didn’t need him to say who he was. Even as quietly as he was speaking, the cadence and lilt were familiar to you anywhere. As was the smile you could hear in his voice. “It’s Harry.” 

You jammed your thumb on the pause button several times until it finally took. 

“Hi.” Flat, dull, and totally uninterested, which was not true or accurate. “Hi,” you repeated breathlessly, hoping he could hear the difference. “Hi, I didn’t— sorry. I thought it might be a spam….” You took a deep breath. He didn’t care. Hell, you didn’t care. “How are you?” 

Harry’s cough sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “M’good,” he said. “Y’know, m’doin’ well, just… keeping busy. Working.” 

You hummed but otherwise stayed silent, waiting. This wasn’t exactly a phone call you got any day and every day, and you doubted he was calling to check in with you.

“So, m’going to be back in New York soon.” Again, you said nothing, and after a beat he continued. “Just for a night or so — I’ll be flying into Philadelphia and then out to LA for some work stuff.” 

“Philadelphia to New York to LA?” you asked.

“London to Philadelphia and Philadelphia to LA.” 

“So—” Bless whatever and whoever it was that’d sicked the cat on you to catch your tongue before you could ask him why he was coming to New York if he was flying into and out of Philadelphia. “That’ll be nice.” 

He cleared his throat again and you dropped your phone from your ear to take a deep breath, suddenly hot. 

“Yeah, so,” he began, “I was thinkin’, y’know. If you’re free or you’d like to….” 

You’d like to laugh, because this whole thing was wildly fucking funny. Harry Styles was dialing you for a booty call after a one night stand from months ago. Harry Styles was going to detour into the city for one night just for you, and it wasn’t because you’d had such riveting conversation last time. 

“When?” Your fingers twitched at your side. 

“When’s good for you?”

For a moment, everything went white with the headrush from the overwhelming power flooding you. He was waiting on you — fares and change fees probably didn’t matter to him, if he paid much for anything at all with how many airline miles he’d probably racked up in his life. 

“Next Friday?” you asked. You’d need a full two days to recover from the shock alone. “If that’s good for you.” 

“Should be,” he said. “I’ll let you know.”

You smirked slightly. Trying to regain a little control? “Sounds good,” you murmured, fingernails digging into your knee. “If not this time then another time, maybe.” 

Needless to say when he texted you ten minutes after hanging up, Friday worked perfectly. 

You didn’t hear from him again until closer to the date. Part of you was wondering if he’d forgotten, but when he asked you on Thursday if you were still on, you stared at his very formal message for a good fifteen seconds just… absorbing the fact that he was coming into town just to see you. 

To have sex with you. 

He wanted to meet for dinner first — God, did you have to? It made the whole thing so much more… you both knew you were winding up naked at the end of the night, anyway.  When you looked up the restaurant, you just about died right there on your sofa. It was, in a word, expensive. The type of expensive that didn’t have the prices listed online but that Yelp was all too happy to spill. Stress mounted in you and you blinked in the dim blue light of your computer, shellshocked, scrolling through the reviews with your hand pressed tightly to your cheek. 

It was a drop in the bucket, maybe, but he didn’t have to do this. He knew that, didn’t he? 

More than once you wrote out a message to cancel — you didn’t feel well, a work thing came up that you couldn’t get out of, someone from somewhere was flying into town and you had to see them. Every time, though, you deleted it all. For months, you hadn’t thought about him, but now… you wanted to see him. Badly. You wanted to see if it was as good and normal as the first time. If it crashed and burned, fine, but at least you’d know and wouldn’t wonder what would happen if you got to see him again. 

Dinner was late that Friday night. He’d asked if you were ok with that, and while part of you wanted to rip the bandaid off, the other part knew — or imagined to know — he had his reasons, especially when the name he told you to give when you got there wasn’t his. Suddenly, it clicked — people could see you and him, together, and he was trying to take precautions to avoid that as much as possible. Maybe for your sake as much as his. 

The inside of the restaurant was dark, and you gave the name as discreetly as you could, trying not to fall right over from how your nervous knees were knocking together. Each step through the maze of tables full of diners clinking wine glasses, sharing pizzas, and cutting into massive steaks that were bigger than the plates they were on made you a little more nauseous, and you were seconds away from turning around and bolting on jellied legs when there he was. Alone, huddled behind a plant in a dark corner that was more secluded than the rest, with a basket of bread in front of him along with a bowl of butter and a bottle of olive oil. He was typing on his phone when he looked up and did a double take with your wave and feeble smile. 

“Hi.”

Harry stood slightly and only sat down after you’d done the same in the chair that was pulled out for you next to his — albeit too clumsily and too soon. 

“It’s good t’see you,” Harry said, quietly and warmly but still audible over the clang of the dining room. 

“You too.” You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. You didn’t remember eye contact being this intimidating with him — you’d had sex with him and managed it better, not to mention the conversation and shameless way you’d flirted with him during the show in a way that would show up any seventies groupie.  “Good trip?”

You should take your coat off. You should put your purse somewhere, and you should maybe try not to look like you had a stick up your ass, but all the common sense, human nature things that you’d usually do without thinking suddenly took a great deal of effort to remember. 

“It was ok, yeah,” he said with a shrug as you gingerly set your bag down and tried to get out of your jacket without hitting him in the arm. “Here, let me….” 

Harry stood and hooked his fingers into your jacket and pulled it down your arms to drape it over the back of your chair. 

“Thank you,” you said, still hot despite shedding a layer. “How’ve you been since…?”

Since we last had sex?

“Good!” he said. “Good, y’know… busy, but good. Getting some different things done.”

“Anything I can know about?” you asked, managing a smirk at last.

A mistake, because he returned it, and his looked better. “Not yet,” he said. “Couple of things might come out soon.” 

You held his gaze a fraction of a second too long, and you felt its impact. Clearing his throat, Harry picked up the menu card in front of him. He looked like he was fighting a smile, and there was a very faint flush in his cheeks. “So, the ah, linguine in vodka sauce is very good and there’s a vegan version if that’s somethin’ you’re interested in.” He flipped it over. “And the affogato—” You bit your lip to contain a smile of your own, the flare of an attempted Italian accent over his Manchester accent cutting through influences from London and America alike comical in a way it shouldn’t be— “is nice if you don’t have to be up in the morning.” 

Before you could think about it, you said, “Sounds great.” Harry looked at you from the corner of his eye, mouth twitching, and coughed into his fist to hide it. Jesus — could you say or do anything that didn’t make you seem a sort of way? “Is there wine?” 

No, apparently, you couldn’t.

He nodded, lips still quivering annoyingly. “Ordered us a bottle — hope that’s ok, it’s….” He gestured just as a waiter approached with it. 

“That’s good,” you said. 

“Sure?”

You nodded and he gave his own to the waiter who busied himself with uncorking the bottle and pouring you each a glass. Harry held his, hovering in midair when you picked yours up. 

“Oh—” Belatedly, you clinked yours with his before taking two deep sips. He didn’t even try to hide his laughter, then, and his eyes crinkled over the rim of his glass. 

“So,” he said. “How’ve you been?” 

Since you last had sex.

“Well,” you said, running your finger over your glass. “Working, mostly.” 

“What is it you do?” 

You stared, but his green eyes were wide and endless waiting for your answer. Nowhere on his face was a trace of irony or disinterest — he’d asked because he genuinely wanted to know. “I—” You stammered a bit before getting it out and he nodded, a flicker of recognition passing over his features.

“Tell me about it.” Just as authentic and sincere. 

“It’s… I mean….” 

With some coaxing from him, he dragged the details out of you — for how long, how did you get into it, was it what you’d always wanted to do, did you like it, what were the hard parts, did you think he could do that if he put his mind to it. And, eventually, you stopped feeling like your teeth were being pulled, whether in thanks to the wine, the pasta, or his charm — charm you’d known about but that was lightyears worse when it was directed right at you in the corner of a restaurant with your knees touching under the table — you couldn’t tell. He spoke about himself, too, and every now and then while listening to his slow drawl, it was hard to connect the fact that the voice speaking owned these stories. It was like you were eavesdropping on someone else’s conversation with him and being told things you shouldn’t know and had no right to know, but it was he, himself, and he was telling you of his own accord. 

“Would you like dessert?” he asked when your plates were cleared. 

“We could,” you said. “If you’d like — the affogato?” 

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Not planning to get any sleep tonight?”

The bottle of wine had been described as bold, and apparently you’d absorbed some of that along with the alcohol. “You tell me.” 

Harry pressed his lips together, rolling them thoughtfully as you smiled at him as the waiter approached, ignoring your racing heart to hold his gaze. 

“Will there be anything else tonight?” 

His ball, his call. 

With only a quick glance to the waiter, he said, “One affogato to share, please.” He turned to you again. “And the check,” he added without breaking eye contact. 

***

The hotel was intimidating — not somewhere you could ever stay on your own, and, for that reason, not a name you recognized, but you knew by the name emblazoned on the carpet outside the doors that it was the sort of hotel you should know. Hand on your elbow, Harry nodded and greeted the doorman with warmth and enthusiasm acting as the smoke and mirrors to allow you to slip into the lobby ahead of him. You paused, watching him through the glass, and seconds later he was through the door after you. 

“This way,” he said, eyes darting to the elevator bank. 

“Nice place,” you said as he waved the back of his wallet over a black magnetic pad attached to a column before pushing the call button. 

“You like it?” he asked, watching the floor numbers above the elevators. He gently took your elbow again and pulled you towards one descending faster than the others. When the doors opened, it was empty, and you both got on with him mashing the close button until the doors rattled shut and locked you both in with an almost eerie silence.

“Thank you,” you said. “Again. For dinner — and dessert. You really didn’t have to.” 

Harry pressed his floor, but his smirk was warmer and his eyes softer than they had been since you’d both left the restaurant and gotten into his car. The jittery, tingling sensation in your hands and belly had nothing to do with the espresso from dessert. 

“Thank you for coming….” Flames surged in you, up through your torso and over your chest and neck, and you held your breath as his cheek dimpled, the pointed phrase lingering between you. “To dinner,” he added, grinning wider as if he’d displayed some revolutionary wit instead of the most basic— “You don’t have to either, you know.” 

He was still smiling, but it was impossible to miss his pointed message acknowledging the power imbalance between you. You didn’t have to do this, dinner or no dinner, and as much as you knew that, it seemed he needed you to know he knew that, too. 

“I know,” you said, voice catching in your throat. “You’re welcome,” you added with a quirk of your mouth, holding eye contact with him as if your knees weren’t quaking. 

The doors opened and you followed him into the hallway, but he came to an almost immediate stop in front of a door he again waved his wallet over. “After you,” he said, holding it open. On purpose, you were sure, because he looked smug when you squeezed by him, chest-to-chest. 

Oh, wow. 

It was a suite — you were pretty sure that was the only way something this huge could be classified. There was a king-sized bed off to one side, with an overstuffed armchair and a luggage rack with his suitcase on it, and to the other there was a sitting area with a sofa, more chairs, and a coffee table. Beyond it, a chandelier hung over full dining table surrounded with chairs, and a closed laptop with a couple of books sat on top of it with the cord stretched to an outlet. Combined, all of it was bigger than your entire apartment. “Hotel room’s better than mine,” you mumbled, looking around from corner to corner, floor to ceiling. 

Harry laughed and strolled past you, gesturing towards the sofa. “Can make yourself comfortable,” he said. “I’m just going to pop in there for a bit,” he said, pointing to a door. “I’ll be right out.” 

“Sure!” you said. “Sure, take your time.” 

He disappeared through the doorway and you only just caught a flash of tile and mirror when he turned the light on before shutting the door. Seconds later, the sound of water running reached your ears, and, exhaling, you dropped your bag on the coffee table and unbuttoned your coat to drape it over the arm of the sofa before taking your boots off. You crept over to the window and pulled the gauzy curtain back. Below, cars zipped through the city streets, looking like festive ants from this height. You couldn’t hear anything except for the air conditioner — a bit chilly, but you stopped yourself from changing the temperature. You didn’t know how he liked it, and it might turn out to be… necessary.  

The running water from the bathroom cut off abruptly and when you turned around, Harry emerged. His cardigan was gone, and his face looked scrubbed clean with his hair damp and pushed back like he’d raked his hands through it. “Sorry about that,” he said, quietly, grinning as he got closer, and you caught a waft of peppermint toothpaste. “Coffee and all.” 

“It’s ok,” you said. 

Harry stopped in front of you and your throat tightened when he slid his hands up your neck, palms soft and warm. Tilting your head back, you stayed very still as he rubbed the apples of your cheeks with his thumbs with an almost intimate tenderness, and your lips parted with anticipation. You could smell his cologne and you could feel how warm he was, but when he leaned in, you inhaled sharply and turned your face. “I should probably do the same,” you murmured almost regretfully. You wanted almost nothing more than to kiss him right then — you’d been waiting all night for that and more — but you could taste the espresso on your tongue, and you wanted to be able to kiss him right. 

Harry looked like he was going to say no, and if he had you might’ve gone through with it, but finally, licking his lips, he nodded and let go of you. “Sure,” he said. “You can— go ahead, I’ll….”

“Thank you.” You smiled softly and slipped away, shutting the door behind you. Once you were in, you let out a breath and your shoulders slumped. The bathroom, like the suite, was massive, with a bathtub and a shower with a rainshower head stuck to the ceiling. Only one of the double sinks looked like it was in use, with his deodorant, a bottle of cologne, a comb, and a razor half out of a kit lying next to it along with a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. 

You gulped, staring at it, before patting underneath the counter and looking around the room. There had to be a complimentary…. Aha! The toiletry bag from the hotel was perched on a shelf over the toilet and you opened it, sighing with relief when you found a toothbrush and a microscopic tube of toothpaste. 

“Can use my toothpaste, f’you want.”

You nearly dropped the whole thing into the sink when you jumped, holding your chest and looking at the closed door. 

“I—” Swallowing your nerves, you nodded. “Thank you,” you called back. You unscrewed the gap from his tube with shaky hands and spread a bit on the bristles, and as you scrubbed, mouth foaming, you stared deep into your eyes in the mirror under the soft vanity lighting. Just sex — it was just sex. And yet, there weren’t enough words to say how surreal this was. 

Teeth, tongue, and gums done, you splashed cool water around your neck and forehead before patting dry and evaluating yourself. Legs? Fine. Stomach? Full, but not uncomfortably so. Teeth? Fresh. That was it, then. Tapping the light off, you opened the door and stepped out. 

Harry was on the edge of the bed, head hanging and hands on his knees, but he looked up when you came closer, a sharp snap of his neck, his glinting eyes reminiscent of a starving man.

“I’m sorry!” you rushed. “I’m sorry.”

“S’ok,” he said, standing. “Don’t worry about it, c’mere.”

No more pretense. No more waiting. 

Cupping your face again, Harry slanted his mouth over yours and you moaned softly, circling your arms around his shoulders. For all the anticipation, it was slow — he was taking his time kissing and coaxing your lips open, groaning his appreciation between quiet smacks while you languidly pulled your hands across his back. He was warm through his shirt and every muscle seemed to tense and release under your wandering fingers. He really was broad, too — he didn’t look it sometimes, but he was, and strong. Minty kisses matched yours, and every now and then you caught a whiff of the same rich and delicious smell you’d determined earlier was his cologne. Breaking, you pressed your lips to his jaw and then his neck, moaning when you got a concentrated dose of the scent. Harry moaned and you felt the vibrations in your mouth through his skin, and he squeezed your hips as you kissed up and down his neck.

“That’s nice,” you murmured between kisses.

“Thanks,” he said, voice strained. You grinned. “Just be—” Harry swallowed. “Just be careful, please. Sorry if that makes me a dick, but….”

Be careful with—? Oh. Marks. “Don’t worry,” you whispered with another one. “I get it.” You were on his throat when you added, “No one will know I was here.”

He laughed, full and deep, and you grinned wider. “Come back here,” he said, tilting your head back so he could kiss you again, and you stilled to return it, though every now and then one of you smiled and broke the rhythm. Drawing your hands down his torso, you stopped at his waistline and felt along until you found the button for his trousers. “Tryin’ t’get into my pants?” he crowed under his breath. 

“Made sure I wouldn’t be able to sleep,” you said. “Might as well do something.” 

The whole world turned when Harry spun you suddenly. You gasped, nearly shrieking with startled laughter when he dropped you on the bed, and you were still giggling when he unbuttoned your jeans and pulled your zipper down. 

“Gonna hurt m’feelings if you keep laughin’ at me,” he said, the warning softened by his grin. 

“No, I won’t,” you said, eyes rolling up with a sigh when he slid his hands underneath your shirt. You sat up a bit until he brought it up over your head and tossed it away before he bent over your chest.

You’d had sex with Harry Styles and forgotten all about it, but he was doing his damndest to make sure you remembered. 

Oh. Right. He was good at this — ridiculously, absurdly, eye rollingly amazing. Each kiss down your over your breasts was simple but carefully placed. He suckled every patch of skin into his mouth with a thoughtful hum and a grunt of conclusion, and when he reached your sternum, he sighed hotly. 

“God, y’smell good.” You laughed breathlessly and nodded your thanks as he made his way down your belly. “Smell so—” He pressed his nose to your hip and inhaled deeply— “good.” 

He said it so deeply, so slowly, so deliberately, that if you didn’t know better you’d think he’d never meant anything more. 

“I’m gonna take these off,” you said, voice sticking in your throat. You sat up and he did, too, pulling his shirt off while you stood on wobbly legs to shed your jeans. He stared, unabashedly, and it was again one of those moments that was so surreal you couldn’t believe you were living it. “Do you have condoms?” you asked, nearly toppling sideways as you kicked your ankles free. 

“In the drawer,” he said. 

He’d really detoured to New York out of Philadelphia just to sleep with you and he wasn’t even pretending he hadn’t had this in mind.

You took a step towards it but he grabbed your wrist. “Hang on,” he said. “Know you can hardly wait—”

You gasped. “Me?” You almost wanted to smack that smarmy grin off his face, and when he nodded, you reminded him, “‘When’s good for you?’” 

“Flexible schedule,” he murmured, pulling you down onto his lap. Straddling him, you held his shoulders to keep from teetering backwards, mouth hovering over his. “We’ve got all night,” he said, kneading your hips with a cocked head. “Don’t we? Not getting any sleep?”

An electric thrill shot through you. His lips were twisted at the corner in an almost coy smirk, and his eyes were endless, full of a level of confidence that made you tingle. You gasped, soft and sharp, and his smirk widened into a grin when you grasped his chin and kissed him, hard, as he dropped back onto the bed and brought you crashing with him. 

Again the world spun when he turned you over, and your eyes rolled as he trailed kisses down your cheek and neck — greedy ones with chins colliding and teeth scraping skin as he held you by the jaw to keep you still. You only barely managed to shift on your back when you felt his hand sliding underneath you, and seconds later the pressure of the band around your ribs released and your bra straps loosened on your shoulders. Harry pushed the flimsy material up over the swell of your breasts, and your mouth fell open when his closed firmly on your nipple. He released it with a soft noise before pulling it again with slightly more pressure, and one of your hands fell into his hair. 

“Leg up,” he rasped against your breast, pushing one of your knees gently but firmly. You did as he asked and bit back a moan when he fit his palm over you through your underwear, its radiating heat making you throb. Up and down he stroked, tentatively at first and then with more certainty, thumb dipping into your slit over the fabric. “Ok?” he asked. Barely able to hear him through your ringing ears, you nodded, and, with the permission, he hooked his fingers under the thin scrap of fabric with a quiet groan. “That’s nice,” he said as he explored with such a careful, barely there touch, you almost couldn’t breathe waiting to just feel something. Swallowing hard, you let out a slow, deep breath, eyes falling shut as you turned your head to the side, knuckles brushing over your mouth as your heart raced out of control. 

“Don’t have t’be quiet,” Harry said almost lazily as he descended lower and lower on your stomach with spongy, stubbly kisses and carefully opened you with his fingers. “Don’t have to—” He laughed when your legs jerked as the pads of his fingers slid over your clit. “S’ok,” he continued. “Relax for me… s’it feel good?”

You nodded, gulping. 

“Is this ok?” 

He pressed his finger onto your clit and you took a deep breath. “Yes,” you said, voice sticking in your throat. 

“That’s good, then,” he said. “Anything y’don’t want me to do you just tell me, right?”

You moaned, then, low and long, and you lifted your hips from the bed as you squirmed. “Yes,” you repeated, slightly louder and pitchier. “Yes… oh,” you sighed, toes curling when he laved his tongue over your nipple while stroking your clit, each breath deep and full, your belly warm. “Fuck!” you whispered, sucking in sharply. The last time you’d felt yourself get wet like this — slippery, soaked — had been… well, with him. 

You laughed under your breath. It’d been with him. Of course it had. “Oh!” you gasped sharply when he circled faster, gripping the back of his head with one hand while the other slapped down on his shoulder. 

“Can hear it, can’t you?” he asked. “Can hear how wet— oop—” His finger slipped out of his rhythm. “There we go,” he muttered. “Easy…. Gotta make sure your pussy’s open for me, don’t we?”

“I am,” you said, back arching. “I am, I’m….” You clenched your teeth together and your head tossed against momentarily as you dug your toes into the sheets. “Mmm….” 

“Sure?” he asked tightly. “Gonna be able to get inside?” 

“I am,” you whispered. “Please, I want you inside me.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked. 

“Yes!” You were hot, everywhere, almost feverishly, and you couldn’t stop moving, fidgeting, trying to do anything to just…. Sucking in sharply, your lips barely moved when you uttered, “Oh, my God, I’m gonna cum,” in one soft breath, digging your fingers into his shoulder more. Your whole body was tense and your stomach muscles kept clenching and releasing, the warmth in your belly spreading through your legs and up your chest. You were going to cum, you were— so close, almost laughably so. Whimpering, you pressed your trembling lips together to stifle a louder moan bordering on agony, and you were just starting to feel the relief of those first flutters when, suddenly… he stopped. 

He stopped?

“No!” you said. “No, please, no, why?” you asked breathlessly, bordering on a cry, hand clapping to his face and forehead bumping his when he popped off your breast. “Why?” 

He laughed, but it was a strained sound. “Sounds too pretty to let it end just yet,” he said. “Got… got all night, don’t we?” he asked. “Got all….” He grimaced and rocked backwards. “Shit.” 

You stared at him, sluggish mind slowly catching up. He was still in his trousers — they’d never made it off somehow — and he was very obviously hard. “Come here,” you breathed. “Come….” 

Harry grunted when you pushed them down his hips. Awkwardly, limbs tangled, you climbed over and around each other until he was on his back and you were on your shaky knees, tugging them down and off him completely. A pair of red boxer briefs fit him perfectly, hugging his thighs, hips, and the cock straining in them. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath and you felt his eyes on you when you lowered down, pressing kisses to his knees and up his thighs, his leg hair tickling your nose. You were at the edge of his briefs by the time you were feeling blindly along his waistline, and you sat up when your fingers slipped inside to pull them down. Locking eyes with him only briefly when they were tugged past his thighs, you grinned impishly before lowering down and he touched the back of your head with a barely there graze when you licked a stripe up the underside of his cock. 

“Oh, shit,” he breathed blissfully above you. From under your lashes you could see him grinning with his arm over his eyes, and you licked again and again before ducking lower and pulling one of his balls into your mouth with a delicate suck. His answering groan made your hair stand on end and you wrapped your hand around his cock, running your thumb up and down near the head. 

You had all night. Last time had been frantic, rushed, with an invisible timer that wouldn’t stop tick-tick-ticking, and you hadn’t known what you wanted, or were allowed, or how much of it you could have. Now, though, you were enjoying touching him, holding him, experimenting with what you knew and what you were figuring out from every moan and sharp breath above you. 

“Is this good?” you asked between sucks.  

“Yeah,” Harry grunted, nodding his head belatedly. “Shit… s’real good.” Gently, then, he grabbed your hand to move it higher up his shaft while you licked one of his balls. “Y’can… f’you want to—” 

Hand in his, he moved your hold slowly up and down, and the throbbing sensation that’d been lingering between your legs grew. Holding your breath, you watched him jerking himself with your hand, each downward tug pulling his head out a little more. His nostrils flared and he gulped, throat bobbing visibly, and you licked your lips, head spinning. Unthinking, you lifted up and wrapped your mouth around the tip, sucking firmly with a breathy moan, and you felt his thighs trembling beneath you for a moment as his hands faltered. Up and down you bobbed, stretching your jaw slightly more each time to try to get more, but when you felt a click, you pulled off abruptly. 

“Sorry—” You slurped wetly and laughed, horrified. “Sorry!” 

His loud laugh joined yours, warmer and more delighted than yours. On fire, you dug the heels of your hands into your eyes until he pulled your wrists. 

“Come here,” he said, still wheezing. “Come….”

You whined, stretching out next to him, and he chuckled, cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss. “S’ok,” he said, body shaking with suppressed laughter. “Got me a little wet is all,” he teased.

You grunted when he rolled you onto your back and you melted underneath him as he kissed you — first on your mouth, then your neck, your shoulder, and inside your elbow, before he pushed up and opened the bedside table. The box of condoms wasn’t the hotel’s, but what had to be his own preferred brand, and you must’ve made a noise, because he glanced at you sharply, then.

“What?” he asked.

Smiling slightly, you shook your head. “Nothing,” you assured him. 

He chortled, tearing one open and pulling out the flimsy, wet rubber. Biting your lip, you watched him pinch the end and smooth it down before he cleared his throat.  

“D’you wanna get on your…?”

You stared, waiting for him to complete his question. Harry licked his lips and jerked his head. 

“C’mere,” he said. “Turn over, like….” He coaxed you onto your hands and knees before pressing down on your back between your shoulder blades. “Little lower… there y’go,” he said when you bowed, arms outstretched ahead of you and ass high. “That good?” he asked and you nodded.

“Yes, please,” you mumbled. He laughed quietly behind you but gripped your hips and you closed your eyes.

“Deep breath in,” he said, smooth and warm. “In and out, in and—”

Face contorting, you grunted under your breath when he thrust, shallowly at first but gradually deeper until his pelvis was flush with you. “Oh, fuck,” you wheezed, back arching. It was good, but a bit of a pinch and stretch — had it been this way last time? Maybe you hadn’t noticed as much from the adrenaline rushing through you.

“Ok?” he asked. 

Still grimacing, you nodded, hands fisted in the sheets. “Good,” you managed. “Good, good… oh!” you cried out when he thrust with heavier weight, hands bruisingly tight on your hips. That right there — that was good, the angle and the depth, and if you brought your legs together just a bit—

“Fuck!” he groaned behind you. “Fucking….” 

Faster, steadier, you muffled your noises in the sheets as you rocked back against him. Pathetic — you were pathetic whining and pushing into him, but he’d left you hanging and you were trying to get it back because you’d been so close. 

“That’s it,” Harry grunted, laughing breathlessly. “Fuck my cock.” He took a rattling breath. “Fuck yourself on my cock…. Shit, y’got no idea how wet it looks right now.” He stilled suddenly and you paused, heaving.

“Harry!” you whimpered, twisting, arms too weak to lift up. 

“What?” he asked, and you could hear the smug smirk in his voice. “S’wrong?” 

You let out a keening moan, face flat on the bed, before you tightened and pushed back on him. His answering groan was guttural, and he held you fast when he went silent, only the slapping noise of your ass meeting his pelvis and the sound of the bed thunking filling the air. Good— not bad— not enough, though, either. Stopping short, wheezing, you reached behind you to tap one of his hands. “Let go,” you said, tapping it again. “Both….” 

Immediately, the pressure released and he backed up without a question, slipping out of you with a wet drop. Gulping, you forced yourself up and sat back on your knees to steady yourself before turning. “You ok?” he asked. “You good?” His cheeks were red and his chest and arms were sweaty and shining, lips swollen and bitten up, eyes dark but sharp and attentive on you. 

“Mmhm.” You pushed him by the shoulders and he teetered in his surprise before he fell on his back with a muted grunt. Hands on his chest, you swung one leg over him and lowered down to rest on the underside of his cock. His nostrils flared and his eyes bounced from your face to where you were sliding back and forth on top of him. 

“What—” Harry cleared his throat. “What’re you doing?” 

“Told me to fuck myself on your cock,” you reminded him, inhaling sharply when your clit bumped his head through the condom. “Didn’t you?” 

Again he cleared his throat and ran his hands up and down your thighs. “C’mon, love,” he muttered. “Please. Don’t leave me hanging?” 

“Why?” you said, laughing as his head fell back. “Have all night, don’t we? That’s what you told me.”

“M’fucking balls are gonna explode,” he said, groaning. “Seriously, I’m like….” 

Still laughing, you lowered your chest while lifting your hips, and with your mouth on his, you guided his cock back in. One of his hands clapped down immediately on your ass and held you there when you began to rock again, finding a steady rhythm. Sloppier, rougher, but your clit was against him and the pressure was perfect. 

“Oh my God, you feel so good,” you said between kisses. “You’re making me feel so— oh!” you exclaimed breathily.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Making y’feel good? You feel good? You feel….” Harry swallowed conclusively. “Fuck me, look at y’riding me like this!” 

The hazy part of your brain hoped it was as good for him as it was for you, because this was amazing for you. 

“Jesus, y’so….” Harry groaned, a deep, helpless sound. “Lis— listen to me,” he said. “Can y’do that? Can y’let me make it good for us?” 

You didn’t answer at first, caught off guard. 

“Trust me, darling,” he mumbled. “I can make it so good for you, I promise.”

“What? What, what—?”

“When I say stop,” Harry said. “Y’gonna stop.”

You whimpered.

“Just for a bit,” he rushed on. “Just for a bit, love, only for a moment.” He kissed you hard and quick. “S’gonna feel so good when y’cum,” he said. “I promise you, you’re gonna feel so good when you cum. Right?” 

Rolling your hips, you huffed against his mouth. You were exhausted — your muscles were sore, used, and felt like they’d been stretched taught to the point of snapping more than once from the tremors rippling through you. 

“Stop,” he whispered. Eyes squeezed shut, his cock pulsed inside you. “Stop, please—”

Whining, you came to a still, panting and dropping your head onto his shoulder, heart beating in your throat. 

“That’s good!” he said, hand slipping up your sweaty back. “Good girl, just… just for a moment.” 

“I wanna cum,” you admitted, more broken and needy than you liked. 

“Promise,” he said, patting your shoulder, “y’gonna cum. Gonna take good fucking care of you.” 

Again and again, you stopped and started, each stop happening sooner and sooner with both of you so close. You could feel how swollen you were from the repeated almosts, but even without finishing you knew he was right and that when you did finish it would be indescribably intense. He’d rolled you onto your back at one point and pulled out, trembling from head to toe with a glazed over look in his eyes as he fought to pull himself back, but by the time you were asking him to please, let you cum — you were tired, you wanted it, you just wanted to cum — you were back on top.

“Please, don’t stop,” you breathed. “Oh, please, oh—”

“So cum, then,” he groaned between his teeth. “Fucking cum.” 

A cramp shot through your foot right when every muscle in you tightened, and you were pretty sure this was the ugliest you’d ever sounded when you came since the time you had your first orgasm and hadn’t had the ability to process the new sensations, but it felt… incredible. Hot, like everything in you had snapped and crackled and was shooting through you in fizzling tingles, and seconds later, he thrust up with a strangled sound in his throat and you felt his cock throbbing in you with each stream of cum. Shaking, his head dropped back off the side of the bed and he wheezed through each breath. Dropping your forehead to his shoulder, you gulped for air, trembling, ears ringing. The whole world might as well have been spinning for how steady you felt.

“Holy shit,” he breathed at last. “That was—”

“Yeah,” you said, relief flooding you. Him too — not just you. “Gimme a minute and I’ll….”

“S’ok,” he said, patting your ass. “Can take your time.” 

***

You didn’t remember falling asleep. You didn’t remember much at all after the sex, honestly — how you’d gotten off him, or when he’d gotten rid of the condom, or if you’d even peed — although you did have a fuzzy memory of him calling down for room service and getting it despite it being after hours. 

Waking up now, though, every bone in your body felt like they’d been fused together and then cracked. You rolled over, stretching and shaking, and your arm dropped to the side and swiped through the empty sheets — warm — as you listened to the shower running. When you finally opened your eyes, it was pitch black save for the crack of light coming from the bathroom. The blackout curtains had been pulled — he must’ve done that — and you twisted to look at the alarm clock next to the bed. 

“Morning.”

Harry approached the bed, already wearing his trousers and t-shirt, hands full of the items from the bathroom countertop. His hair was damp at the ends but not washed, only his clothes evidencing his walk of shame. 

“Morning,” you said.

He grinned crookedly. “How d’you feel?” he asked. “Y’know — with all that… wine and caffeine.” He smirked as if in on a private joke and you pressed your lips together. Pointed, and not at all about the wine and caffeine. 

“Fine.” Amazing. “You’re up early.” 

Still smirking, he said, “Have to leave for the airport in a bit.” 

Already? That was… fast. Surprising, but not at all. The opposite of last night that’d felt like it’d gone on forever, but that was ending in a blink.

“It’s early,” you said, repeating your earlier sentiment.

“Headed to Philadelphia.”

You deflated. Right. “I’ll get dressed,” you said. You sat up, sheet tucked under your arms and across your chest.

“Don’t.” Harry dropped his items in his open suitcase on the overstuffed chair in the corner and a quick glance at the table revealed the laptop as well as the rest of his personal items had been swept from the suite. “Room’s mine until noon. I can call for a late check out, too, if you’d like. But you should stay — get some rest, order some breakfast.”

You shook your head. “I can’t, I—”

“Please?” he asked. “Paid for it, it should go to good use. ‘Less you got somewhere to be.” 

You didn’t — you’d purposefully picked Friday to be able to take as long as you needed to the next day, but you’d thought you’d need the time to pick up where things had left off, not to lounge in a suite without him. Sighing, you smiled softly, and he nodded his satisfaction. 

“Good,” he said as you leaned back against the headboard. “Take your time — sounds like you had a busy week.” His hands were hidden in his bag as he shuffled around inside. “This was fun,” he added quietly, the sound of his suitcase closing explosive in the silence.

“Mmm.” A vague sound, but you weren’t brave enough to say anything of substance. 

“When I fly back to London, I’m going to be stopping in Philly again,” he said. “If you’re around— maybe I can call you and see?” 

Not a dream — he was really standing in front of you asking if he could come up to see you sometime. When you didn’t respond, he looked at you from the corner of his eye, and you took a deep breath, snapping yourself out of your reverie. 

“Sure,” you said as nonchalantly as you could. “If I’m around.”

“If you’re around.” 

Jacket and cap on, Harry picked up his bag in one hand and held what looked like his passport and a boarding pass in the other. “Just gotta do one thing,” he muttered, and as he got closer, your lips parted. When he bent, though, he picked up the phone with one hooked finger and jabbed 0 with his knuckle. His necklaces dangled from his neck and he was so close his breath tickled your nose, eyes twinkling with mischief even as he mumbled a sorry. 

You were just about to playfully whisper that he did know it was a cordless phone, right, when you heard a pleasant, clipped voice on the other end. “Good morning,” he said. “M’calling because I’d like to see if it’s possible to get a late check out?” You shook your head but he ignored you. “Yeah— great, thanks. 2:00pm?” You rolled your eyes. “That’s perfect. Thank you so much, have a great day.”

“I won’t stay that long,” you said when he hung up.

“But now y’can if you want to.” 

Harry grinned even as you shook your head. 

“You have a plane to catch.”

“Kickin’ me out?” 

You shrugged and he chuckled. “Had a good time,” he said with the same quiet sincerity from before. 

“Me too,” you whispered. 

“Thank you. I’ll call—”

“Ok—”

You saw it, then — the faintest glimmer of hesitation and uncertainty, and honestly? You didn’t blame him. He’d flown in for a trip that, as far as you could tell, was for work, and he’d made a detour into the city for sex. The sex was done, and so was any physical intimacy, but it would feel… off to end the night with a handshake. 

Before you could think to say it was ok and he didn’t have to, though, he mumbled, “I’ll see you,” just as he leaned in. Short but not quick, you leaned into it, and then, just like that, it was over. 

***

You genuinely thought he’d forgotten about what he’d said. He was busy, and getting some wasn’t a priority, but when your phone rang with an unknown number some few weeks later, you paused and had half a second of questioning before picking up.

“Hello?” 

“Hello,” he returned it, sounding amused. “Y’not sure it’s me?” 

“I don’t have your number,” you reminded him. 

“Is now a good time to talk?” 

“Sure?” More of a question than an answer, but he went on before you could correct yourself.

“M’gonna be flying out tomorrow,” he said. In the background, you could hear noises like zippers and snaps, and he had a distant echo in his voice that made you wonder if you were on speaker. 

“Already?” you asked.

Harry laughed, loud but very far away. “Been a month or so,” he said.

“Really?” 

“S’almost the holidays, love,” he said. 

He was right — they were closer now than they were farther away, but it felt like only yesterday you’d been sweating and sharing a meal in a hole in the wall restaurant. 

“Are you free tomorrow night?” he asked. You bit your lip and your prolonged silence must’ve made him falter. “If you’re not, it’s ok,” he said. “Just wanted to ask, cause I know I said maybe… if—” 

“You’re flying to Philly from LA and then driving to the city?” 

Harry cleared his throat. “Actually… s’more like I’m flying into the city and then I’ll head on out to Philly… after….” 

After seeing you.

It was out of your mouth before you could think better. “You could stop by mine.” Silence greeted you and you kept talking to fill its void. “If the airport— I guess it depends— but even if you flew into Jersey you’d still have to go— except— I mean—”

He laughed on the other end and you groaned.

“I owe you dinner,” you said, face warm but a sheepish, unseen smile pulling at your mouth. “You’ve treated me twice.”

“Ok,” he drawled. “F’you wanna get me dinner, I can come by yours.” 

“I’ll text you the address — I have the thread.”

“And I’ll text you my number,” he added. “You should have it.”

Twenty-four hours later, you were rushing around your studio trying to make it feel like less of a shoebox. Stupid — you should’ve just asked for his hotel. He had to have one! This was sex, it wasn’t a you get this tab and I’ll get the next one sort of arrangement. The sheets on your bed were freshly changed, pillows fluffed (fluffed — who knew you’d ever fluff pillows), and you’d swept and wiped the floors down in the living-bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom alike, but everything still felt small and not enough. You’d lit some candles to try to compensate, but you’d gone on and off with them, blowing them and relighting them a handful of times as you went back and forth on whether or not they lent a feeling that didn’t belong in this sort of situation. Now, though, they burned and flickered on your coffee table, and you were just connecting your phone to the speaker when a knock on your door made you jump and spin.

“Coming!” 

You spared a cursory glance through the peephole before twisting locks and unhooking chains, his hulking figure filling your doorway.

“Texted,” he said apologetically. “But—”

“I was just cleaning up,” you said, opening the door wider. “Sorry— come in.” 

He shuffled past you with his printed luggage in hand, and your heart sank, ensnared in nerves, as he walked into the apartment that looked even smaller with him in it. Ears ringing, you could barely hear the notes of whatever album your phone had selected to autoplay. It was small, but it was yours — all yours — and if it didn’t meet his standards, then he didn’t have to stay.

“It’s—”

“Nice place,” he said slowly, and the upbeat lilt told you he wasn’t being facetious. Your shoulders fell with relief and the tension relaxed out of your neck. “That’s a nice candle,” he added, sniffing the air. 

“It’s a little smaller than your hotel room,” you said.

“Been on tour buses, love,” he said, setting his luggage down. “There’s not really much smaller than a bunk racing across the country.” 

Smiling, you squeezed your arms as he unzipped his coat and took his cap off. “How was your flight?” you asked.

“Dunno, really,” he said, running a hand through his mostly flattened curls. Unlike last time, he didn’t have his rings on, and his fingers looked longer and more slender without them. “Slept through most of it — had a bit of turbulence over Colorado or Utah or wherever, but it wasn’t tha’ bad.” 

“Good,” you said. “If you wanna… um….” You jerked your thumb towards a door. “Bathroom’s there, if you need to clean up or anything.”

He nodded. “That’d be great, thanks. In there?” 

You stepped aside to let him by, catching the distinct waft of plane and warmth and the spicy vanilla smell you’d come to associate with him. When he closed the door behind him, you exhaled and again spun through the apartment, shoving shoes under your bed to finish your tidying before carefully pulling the coffee table away from the sofa — his legs were longer, he’d need the room. You’d just smoothed out the rug when your phone buzzed and you grabbed it, seeing both the texts he’d sent you before that you’d missed in your focus as well as the one from your delivery man letting you know the food was outside. Perfect. 

“S’a good album,” Harry said from the bathroom doorway after you locked up again. You jumped, gripping the bag with a knuckle-popping hold. You didn’t think it was possible to be quiet and sneaky in a place like this. “Sorry,” he said, snickering.

“I like it,” you breathed. “Dinner’s….” You lifted the bag on your way past him and heard him trailing after you. You set it on the coffee table and sat on the sofa as you popped the staples on the paper bag. “It’s nothing amazing.”

“That’s a review,” he teased, sitting next to you. “Now I can’t wait.”

“Shut up,” you said and he laughed loudly. “It’s just this place that’s nearish — El Diablito — they’ve got really good nachos and burritos.”

“Mexican, then?”

“Yeah.” Fuck. “Probably should’ve thought of that since you’ve just come back from LA,” you muttered.

“S’fine,” he said. “Didn’t really have much Mexican.”

You arched a brow and he coughed into his hand. 

“So, d’I get a burrito?”

You nodded and pulled a hot, foil-wrapped item out of the bag. “Careful,” you warned, purposefully busying yourself with pulling the rest of the food out of the bag as he unfolded it.

“Looks good,” he said. From the corner of your eye, you watched him adjust his grip and angle his head before stretching his jaw wide to take a bite. You looked away quickly, almost overwhelmed by how comical it’d been, but when you looked back you found him chewing thoughtfully.

“You can have some of my quesadilla if you don’t like it,” you said quickly. “And the nachos are for both of us to pick at.”

Still, he didn’t say anything, until at last he swallowed and his lips smacked several times. “S’good,” he said thickly. “Like, that’s….” He peered at the corner he’d bitten into almost in disbelief. “That’s really good.” Again he stretched his mouth almost comically wide, tongue out, and this time you did laugh. Mouth full, he glanced up at you with unblinking eyes and mumbled a muffled, “What?” through his bite. 

“Nothing,” you said, grinning and unwrapping your own food. “Go on, eat.” 

“All right, calm down,” he said. “Have the whole night ahead of us.”

[threecrowsinatrenchcoat]

Paint My Spirit Gold

Dukeceit Week Day 2: Green/Yellow

Fans of the YouTubers "Deceit" and Remus "The Duke" Sanders start to suspect that maybe, just maybe, the two of them are more than simple internet pals.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 2187

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a watercolor-style painting of a snake. The snake appears to be made of melting chocolate, and there is a large bite taken out of its tail. Cherries and jam are leaking out of the snake at the bite wound. The snake's expression of horror is overly-exaggerated to the point of comedy. The caption reads: "liked your snake boi, @SerpenThyme. thanks for the inspo." /end ID]

- 

A notification ding cut Janus off mid-sentence. 

“Wow, someone left their cell phone on, so professional,” he said, giving the camera a dramatic eye roll. That someone was him, of course, because he was the only one in the apartment- just him and the running livestream- but that was no excuse not to be a drama queen about it. He finished wiping flour off his hands and grabbed his phone to silence it; but the notification made him pause. He flicked his eyes up toward the camera and gave a slight smirk.

“My goodness, I’m famous,” he drawled. “The Duke himself has graced little old me with some fan art.”

Most of the comments in the chat wanted him to show it, so Janus opened up Twitter to see the full post he’d been tagged in. It was a watercolor painting of the coiled-snake chocolate sculpture- lovingly named Jake by his viewers- he’d made for his YouTube video last week; it was wearing an expression of such comedic horror that Janus had to stifle a laugh. He flicked his phone screen toward the close-up camera on his counter so his viewers could see.

“How kind of you, Remus,” he said. “All of you should go scold him for what he’s done to poor Jake here.”

Most of his viewers would know he was joking- after all, they were the ones to nickname him Deceit when he provided neither a real or fake name for his online persona. They knew full well what he was like by now.

The oven timer dinged. Janus silenced his phone and set it aside.

“And our first batch of cookies is done. You know, why don’t we show the Duke some appreciation?”

-

[ID: An Instagram post by user @SerpenThyme. The photo is an artistically-framed shot of a stack of sugar cookies with green, yellow, and pink icing. Propped up against the stack is another cookie, with an intricate icing-drawing of an octopus. The photo appears to have been color corrected to have high contrast, low saturation, and a dark vignette at the edges. The Instagram user @OctoDukie is tagged. No caption. /end ID]

- 

“You know, I have often been accused of actually being a little old lady, what with my fondness for knitted jumpers, rocking chairs, and incredibly fucked up murder mystery books. Today I am doing nothing to dispel this accusation, by making soup.”

The studio was dark and empty aside from Remus' workspace. Everyone else had left long ago, even his own brother, which meant that it was officially ass-o'clock in the morning (or, as most people called it, somewhere between 1 and 2 a.m.) But Remus was stuck in hyperfocus, honed in on putting the last touches on a commission that he'd been putting off for weeks. It's not that it was a tough painting- once he'd gotten started, it was actually a very creatively satisfying piece- but man, executive dysfunction could go suck a dick

“French onion soup, specifically. Because while I do like to pretend I am a classy bitch, I am also, regrettably, a lazy bitch with a distaste for anything that takes longer than one bottle of wine to make.”

Remus hated working in silence. It was stifling, almost suffocating. His brain needed noise like his lungs needed air. So when the studio had grown still and silent, Remus had flipped open his laptop and queued up some YouTube videos. 

“So we have here three pounds of onions that we need to slice up, pole to pole. You’re going to cry no matter what, so if you have any memories you’ve been repressing since middle school, now is an excellent time to dredge those up.” 

And if it happened to be 90% SerpenThyme videos, well. Sue him. 

“Now the first rule of caramelizing onions: fast and sloppy is always better than slow and thorough… at least, that’s what every man I’ve ever slept with tells me.”

Remus choked and glanced over to his laptop screen just in time to catch Deceit's trademark smirk directed at the audience just for a moment. It was the deadpan delivery that always got him. Remus could barely hold onto a joke long enough to get through it without cackling mid-punchline, but this fucker could say the funniest shit like an off-hand comment. 

He wiped his hands off on his jeans (what use were clothes if you couldn't use them as paint rags?) and pulled his laptop across the table.  He typed out a quick comment, citing the timestamp of the joke, and after it was posted, he shut his laptop. 

'Cause ass-o'clock was short for "get-your-ass-home-or-I’ll-kick-it" o'clock. 

-

[ID: A screenshot of a YouTube comments section. The first comment is by user TheDuke, and reads: "10:42 wow, rude." The second comment is a reply by user SerpenThyme, and simply reads ";)" /end ID]

-

Janus plopped down on the couch with a slight groan. He didn’t need to stream today, but he really hated missing days. Besides… he was fine. Really. 

He adjusted the camera until he was happy with the framing, and then checked the settings on his streaming software. Satisfied, he started the stream, and watched as his usual viewers rolled in. 

“What do you mean I’m not in my kitchen?” Janus drawled, addressing the chat. He glanced around with an expression of faux-shock on his face. “My goodness, when did that happen?”

He chuckled, and then gestured to his surroundings. “Yes, we are in my living room today. If you must know, my closest and most trusted friend tried to murder me today- yes, Virgil, it was attempted murder and nothing less- and I survived with nary a scratch… and a broken foot, but that is beside the point. Anyway, I’m not allowed to stand for long periods of time, and I may or may not be somewhat inebriated by pain pills and couldn’t stand even if I wanted to. So we are cooking from my couch today.”

Janus paused for a few moments to read the chat messages as they popped up. A few get well soon’s, a few theories about the “attempted murder,” Virgil- who moderated his chat for him- vehemently denying the “attempted murder” but otherwise refusing to clarify the event, and a large volume of wtf why are you streaming today, take care of yourself comments, which made him smile. But one particular comment caught his eye, almost lost amid the torrent of an active chat: wait this kinda looks like the Duke’s living room?

“Oh, VampSuga,” he said, addressing that commenter in particular with a slight smirk. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, since I can’t reach my oven from here, I thought some no-bake cookies were in order. For these you will need-”

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Discord conversation. The text reads:

“VampSuga: Ok ok hear me out. Dukeceit. 

Starstruck96: who?

IneffableSnek: lmao

FeralBeauYasha: lol

VampSuga: Deceit and Remus Sanders! They’re totally dating. I will die on this hill. 

FeralBeauYasha: Isn’t the duke w/ PatPat?

IneffableSnek: no thats his brothers bf

FeralBeauYasha: ohh

VampSuga: Did anyone see Deceit’s stream today? I swear that’s the Duke’s livingroom. 

StarStruck96: idk that seems like a stretch

IneffableSnek: no wait i kno what u mean

IneffableSnek: im watching the duke’s old videos and that one where he shows off all his old weapons he’s in a living room kinda like deceit’s 

FeralBeauYasha: They were acting all cute on twitter too

VampSuga: DUKECEIT”  /end ID]

-

"Hey guys, been a while since you've seen my face and not just whatever my hands are busy with, when it's within YouTube's terms and conditions I mean. They used to be way more lenient…" Remus trailed off for a moment, then shook his head sharply and plastered on a grin. 

"Anyway! In June me and a few other creators did a fundraiser for the Trevor Project, and y'all smashed the goal, so I let you decide what video I'd make this month." He paused, and gestured to the mountain of clothes piled behind him on the bed. "And you had so many juicy ideas to choose from, but you decided to dress me up like a Barbie instead."

Remus paused to scroll through his phone for a few moments. "Ah, ok, here we go. Twitter user YoonIsMyCat- oh, BTS, nice- sent in this first outfit. Uh… future Remus, put up the post here somewhere." He gestured vaguely to his right. "Y'all went with either a fuckton more clothes or a fuckton less clothes, which I respect. Apparently this outfit is called…” He squinted at his phone. “Amish chic? I take it back, no respect at all.”

Remus cycled through the outfits his viewers sent in, which ranged from the aforementioned “Amish chic” to “2008 rave attire” to “ok now you guys are just fucking with me” (which consisted of one of those big puffy snow coats, lime green in color; booty shorts with the shrug text emoji across the ass; fuzzy pink boots; and a yellow cowboy hat to top off the whole thing. It was awful. Remus loved it.) The mountain of clothes on the bed gradually became a mess of clothes spread across the floor instead, until there was just one outfit left. 

“Ok so Twitter user VampSuga sent me this outfit that I’m gonna call ‘sexy librarian.’ I couldn’t find this exact sweater online, but-” he paused for dramatic effect, before brandishing a sweater toward the camera like a bullfighter. “My boyfriend had something that was close enough.”

Remus hopped up from the bed and switched off the camera so he could change.

“They’re going to lose their minds,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Remus threw his shirt at him.

“Shoo, I’m getting naked.”

-

[ID: A Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a selfie of YouTuber Remus “The Duke” Sanders, a Hispanic man with his hair dyed green and styled into a spiked mohawk. He is wearing a yellow knitted cardigan over a black button-up shirt. He is grinning widely at the camera. The caption reads: “my viewers pick my outfits! now live on youtube. go see what i look like as a sexy librarian!” /end ID]

-

DukeceitStan

first and only dukeceit shipper ig

DukeceitStan

wow there’s so many of you now! Hi!!

DukeceitStan

i want this to be canon so bad omg

DukeceitStan

i mean just look

[image]

how 

[image]

cute

[image]

[ID: A series of three gifs featuring Youtubers SerpenThyme, aka Deceit, and TheDuke, aka Remus Sanders. Deceit is a black man with long, dreadlocked hair, and vitiligo patches along the left side of his face. Remus is a Hispanic man with green-dyed hair styled into a mohawk, many ear and facial piercings, and tattoos covering both arms. Each gif is edited so that the highlights are tinged yellow when Deceit is seen, and tinged green when Remus is seen.

The first gif depicts a close-up shot of Deceit’s hands as he carefully decorates a cookie with green and yellow icing. The cookie art he is working on appears to be a half-finished octopus. The gif then fades into a mid-shot of Remus, with his back to the camera, facing a canvas. The canvas is blank, and Remus appears to be laying out paints on a table to his left. 

The second gif depicts Deceit seated at his couch, facing the camera. He has many ingredients spread across his coffee table (including oats, cocoa powder, and butter) and appears to be in the process of laying out several more. The gif fades to show Remus seated at a similar couch with a similar coffee table in front of him. The camera is angled slightly downward to better show the myriad of knives spread out across the table. Remus is gesturing wildly with a morning star held in his hand. 

The third gif depicts Deceit in his kitchen. He is pulling on a bright, yellow knitted cardigan, and smirking toward the camera. The gif fades to show Remus in his bedroom, seated on his bed. He is holding up a similar-looking cardigan toward the camera and grinning. /end ID]

- 

“Remus, it’s almost two in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I’m coming, sorry. Twitter distracted me.”

“Mm. I can’t believe the bird app is more distracting than I am.”

“You should try harder.”

“Come to bed and maybe I will.”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming. Hang on though, is it cool if I post this?”

“Sure. They figured it out anyway.”

“Sweet. Ok, Jannie, I’m coming.”

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It reads: “Dukeceit is canon.” /end ID] 

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Kiro’s Colourful Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Disney Dates Collection: Gavin // Lucien // Victor

The date begins with MC on the beach in a foreign country for work purposes

It’s her third day here, while Kiro has been here for two weeks to produce his new album

As the sun sets on the beach, MC suddenly recalls what happened on this exact same beach and starts spluttering her soul out 

(Note: She’s referring to the Prayer Date where it’s implied they did the deed) 

Kiro suddenly appears:

Kiro: MC, are you okay?!

MC asks what Kiro is doing on the beach

Kiro: Because our hearts are linked as one!

Kiro blinks, turning to the side to block the view of curious onlookers. 

Kiro: I’m just kidding. I already knew you’d be here. I also know that you really wanted to see me, but didn’t want to disturb me. 

Kiro’s tender voice mixes along with the sea breeze, brushing across my ear gently. He takes a step forward, closing the distance between us even more. 

Kiro: [sighs] I had no choice but to end my recording quickly to look for you. Since I’m so considerate, aren’t you going to give me a hug?

He opens his arms wide and hugs me even before I can lift my hands. 

At this moment, the warmth I haven’t felt in a long time encases me tightly.

~

During the weekend, MC waits for Kiro at the amusement park

Kiro sends her a message: "Miss Chips, there’s a problem. Go to the small street at the right side of the entrance quickly!”

MC heads over

Kiro: Sorry I’m late. Huff... Miss Chips, you must have been waiting long.

Kiro leans against the railing. He pulls down his face mask and speaks a little breathlessly. 

A bead of sweat rolls down his temple and onto his face. He looks as though he had just been running. 

Even then, the smile he exhibits is even more dazzling than the summer sunlight.

He offers his hand to me, eyes filled with colours of anticipation. 

Kiro: Miss Chips, hurry, it’s time to go in!

Kiro explains that a bunch of reporters have been following him ever since he left the hotel

MC suggests that they leave, but Kiro refuses. He’s determined to have an enjoyable day with MC, and at the same time not have any photographs taken of him

They can’t shake the reporters off, so Kiro suggests they find some place to hide. They head to a small corner behind a shop

He removes his Donald Duck backpack and retrieves headbands and pair of sunflower-shaped cartoon sunglasses...

He helps put the Minnie Mouse headband on MC’s head

Kiro: This suits you very well - even cuter than I imagined!

After saying this, he puts on a Mickey Mouse headband, then wears the sunglasses. 

Kiro: This way, no one will be able to recognise us, right?

MC: Mm, I can barely recognise myself. 

I look at my reflection in the glass - the exaggeratedly large sunglasses have covered half of my face, yet it comes across as normal in the amusement park.

Kiro: We’ll look like normal visitors! 

Kiro leans over so our reflections are in the same window. He even does a V pose with his fingers, making me laugh involuntarily.

MC: Stop flaunting your good looks, let’s go out.

Kiro: Eh, we should take a selfie first!

The reporters suddenly appear, but they enter the shop without recognising Kiro

MC asks if they should return to the amusement park another day instead so they wouldn’t have to face the wrath of Savin if Kiro’s photos do get taken

Kiro reassures her that everything will be OK!

Kiro: Whatever I promise you, I’ll definitely do it. The only thing you have to do today is enjoy the amusement park vacation together with me!

Perhaps feeling that this isn’t enough, he walks to a staff member and purchases a double-layered heart-shaped balloon.

Kiro: I see many other girls having this too. 

As he says this, he lowers his head to fasten the string of the balloon to my wrist. 

Kiro: This is even more perfect!

Just as they decide to head to an attraction, the reporters spot Kiro from afar and shout his name. This attracts the attention of the visitors.

Tourist: 

Kiro: Don’t panic.

I hear Kiro’s calm and steady voice in my ear, calming my frenzy.

Kiro: We’ll pretend not to hear it, and walk over there. 

MC: W-we can do that?

Kiro: Trust me, they aren’t certain that it’s me.

They walk through the crowd... then break out into a RUN until they lose the reporters by entering an attraction

MC leaves her balloon with the staff, then realises they’re queuing for an intense roller-coaster. Her legs start wobbling :’D

MC: ...I didn’t expect it to be a roller-coaster.

After strapping on the safety belt, I swallow nervously and turn my head to look at Kiro, who is sitting next to me. 

Kiro doesn’t seem to hear me. His gaze is fixed on the track in front of us, his smile frozen in place. 

MC: Kiro? 

Only when I tug at his sleeve in confusion does Kiro turn his head stiffly. 

Kiro: What. Is. Wrong. Miss Chips?

His gaze is a little blank. When he talks, he sounds like a robot, saying one word at a time. 

MC: Should we...

At this moment, the attraction’s countdown resounds. Both our faces twitch.

In the next second, the shrill screaming starts. 

MC: Ahhh!

~

I drag my jelly-like legs and walk towards the exit. My desperate yelling from before makes my brain feel as though it lacks air.

MC: I can’t do it anymore...

Kiro: Miss Chips, the roller-coaster was really interesting!

In contrast to me, Kiro, despite his initial nervousness, looks radiant now.

MC remembers how they were chased by reporters earlier and voices her concerns

Kiro hints that he sought help from the a staff member i.e. disguising him as Kiro and leading the reporters away

They take a break and Kiro notices that MC doesn't look too well after the roller-coaster ride, so he buys ice-cream for the both of them

Kiro: Do you feel much better now?

Looking at Kiro’s sparkling eyes, as though waiting for a compliment, I smile and nod. 

MC: As long as I have desserts and you, it feels like all my tiredness has been completely swept away. 

Kiro: [laughs] I’m different! As long as you’re here, I’ll always be full of enthusiasm.

I see a tiny me reflected in his eyes. Under the sunlight, they look like gentle ripples on the surface of a lake. 

A small squirrel suddenly appears from a tree and watches them curiously

Kiro: Hello there, little cutie.

Pleasantly surprised, Kiro bends down, greeting the squirrel with a wave.

The squirrel tilts its head, not running off. Kiro’s eyes sparkle and he takes slow steps towards it.

The squirrel hurriedly scampers away by several steps. 

Kiro: Why does it ignore me? 

As though feeling wronged, Kiro mutters to himself. He lowers his voice and mumbles something in the direction of the squirrel. 

I can’t hear what he’s saying. The squirrel, which as been looking left and right so far, suddenly scampers back to where we are. It runs in circles around Kiro, looking very happy. 

MC: How did you do that? It’s magical...

Surprised, I take a few steps towards Kiro. As though afraid Kiro would leave, the squirrel also scampers closer to him. 

Once Kiro stops, the squirrel once again happily hops around in circles around him.

Kiro: It’s not over yet. 

Looking at my wide eyes, Kiro smiles mysteriously. 

At this moment, another two squirrels appear from the tree. One of them even climbs onto his arm, as though plotting to get the ice-cream.  

Kiro: Ah, you can’t eat this!

Watching the squirrel’s movements, Kiro hurriedly finishes the ice-cream. 

Seeing the delicacy disappear, the squirrel starts chirping and gesturing with its short paws. This adorable display makes Kiro surrender instantly.

Kiro: [laughs] There’s nothing left now, but I’ll bring all of you something delicious next time! 

The squirrel nods, as though agreeing with his words.

At this moment, I feel as though I’ve fallen into a fairytale. 

Noticing my exaggerated expression, Kiro looks at the small furry animals, then pinches his earlobe unconsciously.

Kiro: Hmm, I seem to have played too much... 

Kiro holds the squirrel up, rubbing its head gently. 

Kiro: Go back quickly. 

As though they can really understand his words, the squirrels rub Kiro’s palm before disappearing in the direction they came from.

MC: So you’re not only popular among humans - even animals like you so much.

Kiro: After all, I’m Kiro!

A smirk suddenly appears on his lips. Seeing that I don’t have time to react, he leans over, lowers his head, and takes a bite of the ice-cream in my hand. 

Kiro: The strawberry flavour is so sweet!

With the tip of his tongue, he licks his lips contentedly, but there are still traces left at the corner of his mouth. 

MC: Didn’t you just have a chocolate ice-cream? Also...

I’ve eaten this one... 

Thinking about this, my face starts flushing. 

Kiro: Miss Chips, look up!

I subconsciously lift my head. With a tightening sensation on my shoulder, the distance between us is closed by Kiro. 

The sunlight, surface of the water, the sky, the roller-coaster in the distance... and the both of us leaning against each other. 

Two smiling faces look towards the camera, a similar happiness dancing in our eyes. 

With a “kacha”, this moment is frozen forever.

Kiro: This photo is amazing!

Satisfied, Kiro sets the selfie as his wallpaper, then waves it in front of me. 

I see two people in the photograph leaning against each other intimately underneath the sunlight. It makes my face flush red. 

Kiro: But this isn’t enough. I also want freeze this moment in my memory forever!

I look towards his handsome side profile, and an insuppressible smile appears on my lips.

Right now, I suddenly feel like Kiro is really someone who knows magic. He has the magic to always make me happy. 

Kiro looks towards the park exit, then offers his hand to me.

Kiro: Since we’ve had sufficient rest, shall we leave? 

I place my palm in his hand. After a slight hesitation, I muster my courage and ask, slightly nervous. 

MC: Shall we... take the roller-coaster one more time? 

Kiro’s eyes widen in astonishment, then he laughs, revealing a smile that’s even more brilliant than sunlight. 

Kiro: So that you wouldn’t feel afraid, I’ll keep holding onto your hand this time! Quick, let’s go!

[dylshoney]

when you’re ready

 requests:  maybe a shawn fic based on “when you’re ready” but you’re not the girl he sung about? and the girl shows up 10 years later and tries to get him back and you guys have been together for like 3 years and it just causes insecurities ?? does this make sense?? (love your work btw❤️)

Hellurrr! I have a request, if you will? TW Anxiety Attack Like if the female!reader has an anxiety attack because she thinks she's not good enough so Shawn helps her and holds her?

a/n: this was my first time trying to write angst (cause im usually an optimistic ass bitch) so if its bad just lie and scroll post ahahaha but i wanted to try and @superiorsoph sent this request in and i couldnt resist. im sorry i didnt follow it exactly, but i hope you like it love.

warnings: language, angst

“Stay still!”

 You hear him say for the umpteenth time, but you pretend not to hear him, twirling around in the dress, laughing and shaking your hips.

 He makes noises of disgruntlement and soon you hear the shutter of his camera go off, the flash blinding you for a few seconds, but you don’t care. You glide over to the full-length mirror on one side of the store and smile at your reflection. He was right, the dress is gorgeous.

 You push down the fabric, loving the smoothness under your fingers and twirl once more. You can see Shawn roll his eyes in the reflection, but you can see the hint of a smile threatening to peak through. He places his camera back in the casing and walks over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, leaning down to press his head on your shoulder.

 You’re both silent for a moment, just staring at the pair of you in the mirror. You hum, your head falling back into him, “I think we found the one.”

 “I told you I’d be useful,” he tuts, pinching your hip. You flinch, turning around to smack his chest, “You only just started being useful. The past hour has been torture.”

 He’s laughing, the beautiful crinkles on his face making your heart melt but you love teasing him, so you can’t give in just yet, “Trying on twenty dresses definitely wasn’t necessary.”

 “No.” He agrees, smiling down at you with a shit- eating grin. “But we had to test all out options, didn’t we?”

 You shake your head, turning back around to see yourself in the reflection, triple-checking that this was the right choice.

 “You have to delete those photos, you know?”

 “No!” He sounds almost offended. “Those are memories, there’s no way I’m getting rid of that.”

 “But I look horrid,” you pout, blinking innocently.

 “Don’t give me that face,” he shakes his head, “They’re all blurry anyway.”

 You grin victoriously, winking at him, “The music in here is just too good – I couldn’t resist.”

 He pauses for a moment, raising his finger to the ceiling, eyebrows raised. You focus on the sound of #Selfie by the Chainsmokers, your ears getting hot as you begin to nod slowly, “It has a nice rhythm?”

 He shakes his head, but you’re already dancing again – thankful that there was no one else in the store on an early Wednesday morning.

 “If you dance like that tonight, I’m going to pretend I don’t know you.”

 You ignore him, taking his large hand into yours and spinning into him, his laughter getting louder as the two of you stumble around together.

 The music changes to Troye Sivan’s Dance to This and you squeal a bit, getting overly excited as the two of your start shouting the lyrics at the top of your lungs. You can see the nice sales associate trying to contain her giggles as she pretends not to watch you, but you don’t care.

 You’re watching Shawn. Your eyes never leaving him as he throws his head back, laughing as you mess up the lyrics. His hands pull you into him, your chest hitting his as you begin doing some sort of heightened version of a slow dance. His hands are warm against you, sending a current of energy through your body.

 You’ve never smiled wider in your life, your heart clenching as he places a kiss on your forehead and you can’t believe that you’re still so in love with him after two years of being together. It’s never stopped being butterflies and sweaty palms with him – you’re body reacting to his touch like it was the first time.

 Everyone around you recognized that as well, even the sales associate as she checked out the dress a few minutes later. You two are adorable, how long have you been engaged?

 Shawn had squeezed your hand extra hard as the two of you tried to contain your giggles, explaining to her that the ring on your finger was a promise one. But Shawn made sure to add that he was hoping to fulfill that promise soon.

 You felt like you were on cloud nine, leaving the store with a flutter of butterflies in your stomach. You knew that Shawn was it for you, never once doubting that he was the person you were going to marry.

 You just didn’t expect that maybe; you weren’t it for him too.

 *

 Later that night you found yourself at yet another event with Shawn, wearing the pretty red dress and smiling widely as people approached you.

 You were happy to find that you could easily recognize and talk to many people, a stark comparison to how you were when you had just started going out with Shawn. You were more confident now, excepting that you belonged next to Shawn, that if you stood up straight and acted like you were meant to be there – people would believe it too.

 You were sipping a Shirley temple, bopping your head lightly to the beat of the song radiating through the room, talking to Lina – the daughter of a famous record producer. She was probably your closest friend related to the industry, but she was usually too busy to attend these kind of parties – so you were taking in every second you could get with her.

 “Ok look at Marsha,” Lina lifted her chin, motioning to a woman a few meters away from you, “She’s about to go talk to Roger. For the sixth time tonight.”

 “No way.” You shook your head, cringing as Marsha started making her way over to the older man again. “He’s said no to her single like a million times already.”

 “Have you heard it?”

 “No.” You paused, “Wait? Have you?!”

 She snorted, “I wish I didn’t.”

 “Come one!” You threw your head back, “I would have paid to see your reaction.”

 “I can perform some for you, if you’d like?”

 You were quick to shake your head, but she was already going.

 “If I could fly … I would never leave you dry ….”

 “Stop! Please!” You were bent over, holding your stomach as you tried to contain your laughter. She was so off pitch that you were tempted to cover your ears.

 “Maybe we could last forever ….”

 “I don’t know what sadder,” you heaved, “The song – or the fact that you know it by heart.”

 “She made me listen to it six times!”

 “That sounds like – ”

 “Excuse me.” You turned around at the sound of the voice, feeling a light touch on your shoulder. You were greeted with the sight of a beautiful blonde staring at you with a small smile.

 “Hi.” You were quick to return the grin, trying to figure out if you remembered her from somewhere. She looked oddly familiar.

 “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for Shawn?”

 You smiled, “I can go get him for you. Give me just a second.”

 “Thank you so much!”

 You found Shawn in the back, talking to someone you recognized to be very important, but his eyes lit up and he was on his feet the second he saw you.

 “Hey angel, everything okay?”

“Hey,” you nodded as he wrapped a hand around your waist pulling you to the side, “There’s someone looking for you.”

 You took his hand in yours, leading him through the mass of bodies in the space, over to where Lina and the stranger were waiting.

 “Hey!” Your tone was light as you called out to her, “Found him!”

 She turned around, an expectant look on her face before her eyes finally settled on your boyfriend.

 “Kate.” Shawn’s voice was laced with shock, a smile gracing his features as he let go of your hand and shot forward to hug her.

 You made eye contact with Julia from behind them, her light ones wide and looking at you with something you could only describe as sheer worry. You tilted your head, trying to understand what she was mouthing to you.

 “It’s been so long.” You could hear Shawn say as they pulled apart, his tone laced with something you didn’t recognize.

 “It has. You look amazing, Shawn.” Now that was something you did recognize.

 You placed a hand on Shawn’s back, his eyes wide as he turned back to look at you, almost as if he’d forgotten you were even there.

“Kate,” his eyes were back on her immediately, “This is y/n, my … girlfriend.”

 You hated the hesitation in his voice, but you didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, smiling gently at her, “It’s nice to meet you.”

 “So, how do you two know each other?” Julia stepped forward, sipping on her drink as her narrowed eyes trained on Kate.

 There was a moment of reluctance, which definitely didn’t help with your unease.

 “We go way back.” Shawn finally said, Kate, giggling in response. Your smile faded. So they went way back. That was definitely code for used to date.

 You hated the jealously that flooded through you. Your stomach clenching as your boyfriend continued to stare at the girl with an unrecognizable look.

 Everyone was silent for a moment, Shawn’s eyes not leaving Kate, something you weren’t too happy about. You were used to being the center of his attention. And you felt selfish the second those thoughts filled your mind.

 “What are you doing here?” He asked, the wide grin never leaving his face.

 She smiled for a moment until her eyes traveled over to you and the expression faded, “I uh – was hoping we could talk?”

 You didn’t like the look she was giving you, and you definitely didn’t like the sound of that. But Shawn was nodding and not even a second later he was turning to you, “I’ll be right back.”

 You didn’t respond, he didn’t give you the chance to. He was already walking away, hot on her heels.

 “What the actual fuck.”

 You didn’t know how to answer. So instead you turned over the bar, immediately ordering four shots, making Lina talk them with you.

 You had hoped that the alcohol would ease your nerves, but instead, you found yourself pacing in the bathroom, your head spinning as you tried to explain to Lina what was going on in your mind.

 She did her best to try and calm you, easing your mind that it was nothing. Shawn loved you. It didn’t matter that he was slightly tipsy. Alone. And talking to his ex.

 You trusted him with everything in you, but you didn’t trust the look in Kate’s eyes. And the look in his.

 Shawn came back a half hour later, his eyes bloodshot and begging you to leave with him. You didn’t hesitate to agree, taking his outstretched hand and following him to the car.

 You were both silent for a few moments but there was unspoken tension hanging in the air, your hands folded in your lap – trying to figure out how to phrase your words.

 “Are you going to tell me what happened?” You finally blurted, hating the way his hands tightened on the steering wheel.

 Shawn was silent for a few seconds, before he cleared his voice, “Everything’s fine. Kate just wanted to catch up.”

 You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. “How long were you together for?”

 You could see him tense again, his shoulders tightening, “We weren’t. Almost though.”

 “What happened?”

 “I don’t know. She wasn’t ready, I guess.” His tone was clipped; sounding like he had uttered those words millions of times before. You could feel your breath catch in your throat.

 She wasn’t ready.

 You replayed those words in your head a million times before you could finally utter something else. “When was the last time you saw her?”

 Shawn could sense the uneasiness in your voice, the unfamiliar tremble as you tried to calm your breathing.

 His hand was quick to take yours, twisting it out of the clasp in your lap and holding it in his tightly, “Baby –”

 “I’m just curious – I know there’s nothing to worry about I just –” your voice was higher than normal, Shawn’s hand tightening around yours.

 But he was silent. Staring straight ahead at the stoplights. The bright red glow illuminating his impassive features.

 “There is nothing to worry about, right?” You found yourself saying.

 “Of course not.”

 Your heart was in your stomach, and you suddenly felt like there was no room in the car – no air.

 “Shawn,” you whispered, “Did something happen?”

 He swallowed again, “No.”

 You were both silent for the rest of the ride home, Shawn’s hand holding yours – the only thing stopping you from falling apart.

 The second the car parked in your driveway, you let go of him and jumped out, not waiting for him to follow – speed walking to the front door. Your hands were shaking as you tried to stick the key into the lock, your blurry eyes making it hard for you to focus.

 “Y/n – ”

 You could hear Shawn coming up behind you, but the door burst open just in time – saving you from having to look at him, “I – I have to go to the bathroom.”

 You could hear him shout something back but you were already sprinting up the stairs and into your shared room, shutting the door behind you and bolting into the bathroom.

 You were shaking, pulling your phone out and googling the one thing on your mind since the second you heard it.

 The lyrics to Shawn’s When You’re Ready showed up on screen and you tried to calm your breathing, scrolling for a moment before your tears began collecting again and you were sobbing.

 You gripped the sink, your breaths choked up as you tried to control your heart rate.

 You could feel a tightness expanding through your chest, like a weight that was pulling you down. You were on your knees before you had a chance to blink, your hands wrapped around your dress as you tried to get a grip on yourself.

 Moments passed but your breathing wasn’t picking up, you tried to blink away the tears, but they kept flowing as your shallow breaths increased.

 You stood; your head spinning at the sudden movement, making you fall back and steady yourself against the sink. A jewelry box slid off at the impact, falling and smashing on the floor.

 You flinched back at the noise, your ears registering a muffled yelling from behind your door, but you couldn’t make it out. You didn’t understand any of it, your chest heaved as you fell back onto your knees, sounding like you were chocking on air. Black spots began to cloud your vision, the room starting to spin.

 Arms wrapped around you, pulling you back into a hand chest, but your mind was too cloudy to process any of it.

 “Breathe – ” you could just make out his words, “You’re having a panic attack.”

 “I can’t I –”

 Shawn spun you into him, on his knees before you, his hands cupping your cheeks as he placed his forehead on yours. You tried to make out the golden color of his eyes but you couldn’t focus on anything but the tightness in your chest.

 “I need you to listen to me, okay?” His thumbs were lightly massaging your jaw, “You’re going to inhale for me on the count of three.”

 “1.. 2.. inhale.” You obeyed, your chest filling up with air as you shook in his grasp.

 “Now exhale,” he said, his voice shaky, “Now again.”

 “Inhale…exhale…inhale….exhale.”

 It was working, your mind slowly clearing as you focused on the sound of his voice.

 You sighed easily for the first time in a while, your eyes finally opening and meeting his tear-streaked ones.

 You pulled away from him immediately, falling back onto your butt as you crawled further away, the cold tile the least of your concerns.

 “You – you.” You heaved, trying to catch your breath, “You wrote it about her.”

He tilted his head, looking like a devastated, confused puppy, “Angel I don’t know –”

 “When you’re ready! You wrote it about her, didn’t you?”

 Shawn blinked, a single tear falling from his eye as he crawled over to you. You flinched, scooting away until your back hit the wall.

 “Y/n I –”

 “The song was written four months into our relationship.” You sniffled, wiping your nose on the sleeve of your dress, not caring about how much money you had spent this morning. Now, that seemed like a lifetime ago.

 “You had said that Teddy wrote most of it. That it was a spur of the moment thing. That none of your songs were based on anyone until you met me.”

 He was silent, tears streaking down his cheeks as he tried to catch his breath, “Baby –”

 “You were waiting for her. This entire time. Weren’t you?”

 “No!” He tried to get closer, but stopped at the expression on your face, “No! I love you, I –”

 “Cause ain't n –nobody like you. F- familiar disappointment every single time I do.” You began to recite, your hiccupping sobs making it hard to understand.

 “Y/n. Baby, please let me explain – ”

“Every single night my arms are not around you. My mind's still wrapped around you.” You shut your eyes, your entire body shaking as you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to figure out how this was happening to you.

 “Baby, tell me when you're ready.” You opened at the sound of a choked sob coming from the other side of the room. Shawn was on the floor, his head between his hands as he sobbed, shoulders shaking.

 You were silent, trying to stop yourself from rushing over to him and holding him in your arms – something you had grown so accustomed to that now you felt like you were having an out of body experience.

 “Do you still love her?” 

That wasn’t what you had planned to say, but you needed to hear it. You needed to know if the last two years were a waste, if the ring on your finger had ever meant something to the boy you thought was going to be yours forever.

 Shawn was silent, his shoulders slumping as he threw his head back.

 “Shawn?” Your voice was sterner than it had been all day.

 “I – ” Another wrecked sob flew through him.

 You covered your mouth as you felt your chest close up again. Shaking your head, you took a deep breath – you were not about to have another panic attack right now.

 You gripped the vanity to your left, using it to pull yourself to your feet. Your mind went hazy from how fast you rose, your head already pounding from how hard you’d been crying.

 “She told you she was ready, didn’t she?”

 All Shawn could do was nod, his eyes not opening as he placed his head back in his hands – his elbows on his knees as he started crying again.

 You threw your head back, urging yourself not to cry – but nothing could stop the whimper from flying out of you, your eyes shutting again.

 Everything was silent again. For a few moments, you hoped that he would say something. That he would get to his feet and explain that everything was a misunderstanding – that he would take you in his arms and hold you, telling you that you were the one he loved. The only one he loved.

 However, things weren’t that simple. They never were with Shawn. But never before had you doubted where you stood with him.

 “I – I can’t do this.” You found yourself saying, his head snapping up – bloodshot eyes meeting yours.

 He was on his feet before you could blink, “No. Y/n – let’s talk about this, please.”

 You hesitated, before shaking your head. It was too late for talking now. You had waited for him to act and he had left you dry.

 “You need to figure yourself out before we can do that Shawn.” You spun the ring on your finger. “I can’t be with you if you’re not a hundred percent sure about me.”

 “I love you.” His voice cracked, a single tear traveling down his sculpted cheek again.

 “I love you too.” You sniffled, taking the ring off your finger – Shawn immediately flinching back, “Please. Please don’t leave me.”

 “You lied to me. You used me as a placeholder for her. You still love –”

 “I don’t. I don’t.” He was shaking, his hands coming up to fold behind his head, “It was a spur of the moment, baby – ”

 “I know you, Shawn.” You were tired, and he was delirious. You couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore, and you were afraid that if you kept this up any longer – he could convince you to stay.

 “Call me when you figure everything out. And then we can talk.”

 You placed the ring on the counter, the clang of it hitting the marble making Shawn flinch again, but you didn’t let yourself get phased.

 You took one long look at him, before turning around and walking out of the bathroom – and ultimately the house.

 He didn’t call after you once.

__________________________________________________________________

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[starlightinhumanform]

The Art of Love: Chapter 9

Fandom: She Ra (2018)

Ship: Glimadora 

Summary: The morning after a very chaotic and impactful night, Glimmer and Adora have to face each other for the first time in daylight. 

Warnings (for this chapter): Mild language, (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: High School AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rivals/Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Fluff

A/N: Not a lot to say about this chapter except that I hope you enjoy! Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated and encouraged! Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3    The Art of Love Masterpost    Fic Masterpost    Fic Request Info

Glimmer woke up to the chimes of her phone screaming somewhere and she really didn’t care where it was because she didn’t have any intention of moving to turn it off. It was six AM, soft sunlight was struggling to reach the bottom of Glimmer’s window, and everything around Glimmer was soft. And warm. And now it was moving and Glimmer cracked one eye open, glancing down at the pale arms wrapped around her waist. Oh, right.

Adora made a muffled sound and tried to bury her face away from the alarm, simply digging her nose into Glimmer’s shoulder blade instead.

The reality of the situation hit Glimmer like a two ton truck speeding down a highway and straight into her gut. The domesticity of it all, the way the warmth drifted from Adora’s closely pressed chest on Glimmer’s back, the way the sunlight glanced off Adora’s hands- gold on gold. It made her choke awake; literally, eyes snapping open as she shuddered out a cough that Adora could probably feel through her dreams.

She cleared her throat and shifted to lie on her back, wondering if it would make Adora let go; if anything, Adora’s arms only began squeezing tighter. In this position, it would’ve been natural for Glimmer to stare up at the ceiling but she felt her eyes keep drifting towards Adora. Her face was once more uncreased, relaxed in her own personal pool of early morning light. A sheer veil of blond hair flitted across the bridge of her nose, moving slightly as she breathed. Adora’s arms felt secure as their steady pressure wove its way around Glimmer’s stomach. It felt safe, a lifeline tied around her waist and grounding her to how real everything was. She really couldn’t believe any of the past 12 hours, but the weight across her side and the hands clasped loosely right where she could hesitantly place her own over them- lightly, of course, just in case she needed to remove it any given moment- well, it at least gave her a sensation to cling onto. Something undeniable.

The alarm had given up while waiting for Glimmer’s pining ass to get its shit together but started screaming again to remind her that she actually had things to do. This time, Adora began to stir and Glimmer hurriedly moved her hand from Adoras’ and turned the chimes off for good.

Adora sat up, bleary eyes staring straight ahead. The sudden movement of Adora jerking away jarred Glimmer into a deceptive appearance of alertness. She blinked up at Adora who to continued to where a dazed expression for a few seconds until she seemed to suddenly flicker to life.

“Time to go then?” The coldness of Adora’s tone was early as alien as the scowl stretching across her face.

“Um, yeah I guess so,” Glimmer ran her hands through hair and knew it wasn’t looking the best, managing to be flattened and frizzy at the same time. Sometimes Glimmer reminded herself of a bright pink lollipop that had been left out on the counter. As her hands made their way through the somewhat greasy waves, she let the pads of her fingertips press through to her scalp and held the strands between her knuckles for a second longer than she should have. She hoped the sharp tugging sensation and dull rub of her fingers would help wake her brain up enough to avoid making a complete idiot of herself in front of Adora.

That option flew out the window when Adora turned to look at her, scowl dropping and melting into a soft smile, “Morning.”

“Morning?” The molten quality Adora’s expression would have been startling enough if she hadn’t been wearing its opposite only a second before.

“Sorry about that- I tend to wake up kinda fuzzy and, er, weird,” Adora seemed to read Glimmer’s mind- either that or her expression was just that obvious. Adora was waving her hands around her head to illustrate her point and grinning like an idiot.

“Apparently you also wake up five times more stupid than you usually are,” Glimmer grinned before realizing it could come across as flirting and- nope, nope, nope, we are not doing that. Glimmer flopped backwards onto the highly inviting pillows behind her. Adora smiled at her and Glimmer was sure something inside of her was overheating- maybe some sort of little laptop fan whirring away inside of her just a little too quickly.

Adora feigned over exaggerated offensive, slamming her hand against her chest and letting her mouth drop open, “You say that as if I’m not always stupid??” 

“Oh no, you are. Just especially in the morning and at around two AM.” 

“So…” Adora glanced away with another sudden, jerky movement, “I should probably get going soon if you want me to avoid your mom.”

“Um, yeah right- right, of course,” Glimmer was still internally sleeping. She sat up again but her head was full of cotton.

Adora pulled her phone out of her pocket and Glimmer realized she hadn’t seen Adora use it the entire time. A picture flashed up on the screen as Adora pressed her thumb down to unlock it. It was a selfie and Cat- a frozen moment of Cat cackling into the camera, Adora only a little to the right with her eyes squeezed shut as she laughed. It made Glimmer cringe inside, knowing she could never have that.

Glimmer flicked her eyes away, pretending she hadn’t been staring at Adora’s screen. Little clicks sounded as Adora tapped her thumbs rapidly across the keyboard. It was obvious she was texting someone and Glimmer didn’t want to seem like a creep just watching her.

She pulled out her own phone and stared at the bright images without actually taking in what any of them were. Because how could she? How could she be thinking about anything at all right now as Adora- the girl she had hated for months- sat right next to her like they were nine year olds who had just woken up at a sleepover. And the worst part was, she didn’t hate her anymore- in fact, she kind of liked her. She was funny and smart and kind and pretty... maybe Glimmer had been hypnotized by her, tricked into liking her just as the rest of her school had been, but she welcomed the mesmerization. Glimmer knew, deep down, that she had no chance with Adora even as friends but... Glimmer’s heart was sold even as it broke.

Adora turned and Glimmer’s head flicked up in her direction probably too quickly. She told herself to stop acting like a weirdo and to just behave like normal except this wasn’t normal and she had no idea what was going on. She was torn- but then again, when wasn’t she? If this was going to be her last interaction with Adora this way- this relaxed and beautiful and real and perfect way- she wanted to be able to remember the conversation without cringing. But of course, there was a desperate monstrosity that dragged itself from a place Glimmer had never acknowledged before; because she didn’t want to let this feeling go, didn’t want to let Adora go. The person Adora simply was made Glimmer different; made her a happier version of herself. Adora made Glimmer feel more comfortable in herself- something that very few people had ever accomplished. But it was more than just that; the version of Adora that was sitting next to her was flawed and genuine and so different from what Glimmer saw at school. She had been right- Adora did wear a mask at school but the kindness was real, it was the chips and dents that were hidden. They were chips and dents that Glimmer was beginning to grow highly fond of. She liked to think that this was Her Adora, that Adora only crawled out of her glossy, perfect shell when she was around Glimmer. She knew it was ridiculous and completely unrealistic, but she held on to the notion with a clenched fist.

She breathed in Adora only inches away and it felt like she was breathing in a Van Gogh painting. Adora smelled like sweet grass, swirling stars, warm cream, soft earth. She also smelled like a greasy teenager but Glimmer wasn’t going to admit that while she tried to capture her perfect moment. Her eyes soaked Adora in as she sat there in all her soft, warm, paint covered magnificence. Adora’s hair was far heavier looking than usual as she reached up and tied it back. Her shirt showed the signs of a worn out and overly used article of clothing. Her skin looked oily and her face was framed by clay and contoured by paint. Glimmer wished she wasn’t obsessed with those stupid features in front of her.

Adora was talking and Glimmer forced herself to concentrate on the words- not the moving lips, “Cat’s gonna pick me up down the street in a few minutes. That’s ok, right?”

Glimmer swallowed thickly because in her head a voice was saying No, please don’t go. Please don’t leave. Please- “Yeah sure. That’s fine- do whatever you want.”

Adora nodded slowly like she was mulling over something. Glimmer’s hands fidgeted in her lap as she waited for the other girl to speak, watching with big eyes.

When she finally spoke it was with an anticlimactic, “Hey, I’m going to use the bathroom before your mom comes in, ok?”

Glimmer let her head tilt up and down numbly, lost in her own her own thoughts. The spell was broken; she could no longer watch in a honey-glazed stupor. That would mean getting hurt when Adora left and if there was one thing her brain was good at, it was telling her not to get hurt- even if the walls she built as a result made her feel ripped apart.

Adora got up silently and picked her way through the wreckage of art supplies sprawled across Glimmer’s floor. Glimmer remembered with a grumbling sigh that she still had to finish wiring the model together.

Once Adora had ghosted out of the room and carefully clicked the door shut behind her,Glimmer clambered out of still highly welcoming sheets of her bed. She stretched, hoping the movement would clear the fog out her mind as well as the stiffness of her body. Of course, it did little to improve her situation and she shuffled over to the tangle of wire, muttering all the way over.

She plopped herself down on the ground and got to work. It was easy- the type of mindless, repetitive movement that let Glimmer space out while she worked and she got finished just as Adora slipped back into the room.

Adora walked over to Glimmer, standing close enough for Glimmer to feel her presence in her space without actually seeing her. It was a sort of pressure, pressing from the outside on Glimmer from Adora’s proximity. Or made the pressure was growing from inside? Either way, it made Glimmer grit her teeth and wish Adora would move.

She could feel Adora’s smile encroaching on the edges of her consciousness before she heard it, “That turned out so great!”

Glimmer acknowledged Adora’s voice with a noncommittal grunt. 

“The best part is definitely your paint job,” Adora gave Glimmer’s side a light nudge with her foot and Glimmer didn’t know why the contact made her clench her fists, “This will definitely help you get your grades up!”

“Since when are my grades any of your business?!” Glimmer snapped, immediately regretting the harshness of her voice.

Adora stepped back slightly, voice small when she spoke, “Oh right, sorry.”

Glimmer hung her head. She didn’t know what the hell was going on inside of there, “No, look- I’m sorry.”

“No it’s ok, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Adora- stop!” Glimmer spun around, “Look, I’ve been a bitch to you for long time and I didn’t even have a good reason. Just let me apologize- just once.”

Adora looked down at the ground, gaze shifting across the floor from one side of her feet to the other before finally stopping the movement to look at Glimmer. She gave a timid smile, “Apology accepted then.”

Glimmer nodded as if she were satisfied but the shift in her head was making her uncomfortable. She wondered what Factory Setting switch had been flipped on inside of her, reverting her reactions to Adora to exactly where the had been before... before everything. The feelings of disgust and dislike were so automatic, it made her feel powerless- no control over her most basic thoughts. Glimmer hated it but that just added to quickly rising levels of animosity that writhed in her body.

Adora sat down next to Glimmer, still quiet. She seemed hesitant as she shifted closer to her, then back away again; seemingly afraid to even make eye contact. Glimmer could feel the discomfort edging onto herself and it made her blood boil. She was already feeling weird, she didn’t need Adora adding to that.

“Can I help you?” Glimmer gave a disgruntled sigh, “Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

Why is she acting so strange? Did I do something in my sleep or... say something? If Glimmer was in a cartoon, an over exaggerated sweat drop would have been forming along the edge of her brow.

Adora ran her bottom lip under the edge of her teeth, “I just wanted to say about last night- or, rather, this morning- I know I was acting weird and I’m sorry. I crossed boundaries that I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry and I’m sure I made you uncomfortable.”

Glimmer blinked up from where she had been uselessly fiddling with a some random piece of the model- Does she think I’m mad at her?

“It’s ok- it wasn’t too weird,” Glimmer couldn’t contain the smirk that slid across her face, “You’re kinda funny when you’re loopy.”

Adora blushed pink, “Oh, yeah, um that’s something I do. I probably should have told you that but I didn’t think we would be up so late. I honestly didn’t think I was going to stay the night.”

Glimmer studied the red spreading across Adora’s cheeks, trying to find its cause. Did Adora really think that after all the dumb things Glimmer had done, all the stupid breakdowns she had fallen into in just the past 24 hours- did Adora really think that after all that, Glimmer would really judge her for making some dorky jokes and getting a little clingy? Ok so she had gotten really clingy but it’s not like Glimmer could really complain. Glimmer had never been cooed over and had never been snuggled up against by anyone like the way Adora had simply wrapped and draped herself over Glimmer that early morning. And Glimmer was never going to flirt with her- she was probably never going to flirt with anyone- so she held onto the memory fondly.

She didn’t want Adora to think she disliked the contact and the smirks and the winks; she would’ve loved to encourage it if she could, but that would give her away. She couldn’t seem too eager, couldn’t simply say Oh yes, Adora, I love you hugging me and holding my hands and giving me that smug look that makes my toes curl and heat bubble comfortably my stomach.

So she nodded with the most sagely expression she thought she could muster, “It’s ok, though. I really didn’t mind.”

Shit. Well there goes Glimmer’s plan of Not Acting Like a Desperate Weirdo.

Adora’s brow creased together and Glimmer officiated the fact that she had screwed up. Adora remained silent for at least a minute, rocking her knee back and forth like a pendulum- towards Glimmer, away from Glimmer. Shifting sharply from side to side just like Glimmer’s thoughts- This is horrible, I never should have talked to her swinging all the way to She’s sweet and kind, stop pushing her away. She makes you happy so there’s really nothing to regret, right? Glimmer grimaced into the silence between them, watching Adora from the corner of her eye as they both stubbornly remained lost in thought.

After an eternity of 60 seconds, Adora stood up with a stiffness that didn’t fit her grace and brushed off the front of her shorts without any real purpose in the movement, “Well, I should probably get going now.”

Adora stood standing there for another moment and Glimmer knew from the way she swung her hands back and forth that she was waiting for Glimmer to say something.

Glimmer tapped her finger tips along her thigh, wishing she could reverse time and bring it spinning back to the darkness of four AM where Adora’s laugh ran through her room and through her mind. She wished Adora’s head rested on her lap instead of her sweaty palms that she pressed into her leg. She wished her mind was filled with fuzzy, blissful exhaustion instead of the growing darkness of negativity that was filtering its way through her thoughts.

Glimmer rubbed her eyes and tried to return to the present situation, “Yeah, ok.”

Adora nodded again like she was coming to terms with some grave news; the hateful little voice in Glimmer’s mind slipped past the gates she had spent last night struggling to build and it whispered to her about what an annoyingly strange person Adora was.

Glimmer glared down at the floor as Adora flit her way to the door frame. Again the yearning came rushing in, the wish that she could fight nagging advocate in her head. She set her jaw and spoke with a tone that struck even her as brutally flat, “Hey you- be careful.”

When Glimmer hazarded a glance over at Adora, the girl was smiling at her and it made something Glimmer hadn’t even been aware stop its frantic fluttering around Glimmer’s rib cage and settle finally.

“See you at school?” Adora sounded like she was asking for permission.

Glimmer gave Adora a small smile, “Yeah, see you.”

Adora moved past the door frame but froze suddenly, pausing to turn and look back at Glimmer as her face broke into a beaming grin. She gave a tiny wave before disappearing down the hall in a prancing jog.

Glimmer sighed at the empty space Adora had filled only seconds before. Her room resembled the wreckage of a natural disaster but she couldn’t describe it as anything but empty with Adora missing.

Glimmer looked past her blinds into the gray fog that had moved to fill the sky but as she remembered the last smile Adora had given her, she could swear the sun was still shining.

[agentkgent]

Fic: If You Want It Back

Chapter One: You’d Probably Think (Tumblr | AO3)

Chapter Two: If You Knew | Read on AO3

(This is a short chapter, mostly establishing that our boys are on opposite sides of the country as adults; They do not remember each other and they are not happy; this isn’t necessarily a HAPPY chapter, but it’s setting up for some cavity-inducing sweet fluff heading your way!)

- - -

Eddie | 39

“Eddie, there just won’t be enough room for all of this!” Myra insists, gesturing to the boxes of clothes.

Eddie gives a half-hearted chuckle and runs a hand through his hair. “Sweetheart, I need space for my stuff, too.”

Myra quirks her eyebrow at him and continues to argue. “This is my closet. That was the deal.”

“Honey, it’s attached to our bedroom.”

Myra turns icy at his response. “It is my closet. We’re in this tiny apartment that you wanted, that you said was so important, and I said I need my own walk-in closet. That was the deal.”

“Myra, this apartment is hardly tiny. And I have to be able to put my clothes away.”

“There’s a dresser over there,” she points.

He looks for a moment. “How can I fit all my things in three drawers?”

Myra shrugs carelessly. “And I didn’t get my craft room. Figure it out, Eddie.”

He sighs in defeat. “Yes, dear, I know.”

Eddie and Myra Kaspbrak are finally moving into their first home in New York - an apartment just south of Midtown Manhattan. It’d been a long time coming, a lot of long, frustrating conversations on home amenities and proximity to the airport. He had to do a lot of traveling, after all.

Eddie knows this isn’t what Myra wanted. What she wanted was a two-story, four-bedroom, two-bath modern home and a fucking jacuzzi in the backyard. If he had a nickel for every time he had to say, “I just don’t make enough money, sweetheart,” or “That’s too far a drive from JFK,” and “We may need to move, I can’t get locked into a mortgage just yet.” He mine as well have been negotiating with his mother. (God rest her soul.) Myra only understood that Eddie made “good money” with the insurance company. To her, that meant they made “plenty of money” to afford whatever she wanted.

He pulls off his jacket, and pulls up his long sleeves to get to work on his boxes of clothes.

“Eddie-bear, you know you don’t need all those clothes. Just get rid of some things,” Myra says from inside her closet. He refuses to turn around and watch her carefully placing her designer handbags and shoes. “Just keep work clothes out and leave the rest in storage.”

“Sure and I’ll just sleep in my work clothes, too.” He says quietly to himself. He carefully cuts open the first box and looks over the stack of nicely folded shirts in air-tight bags, organized by color. He pushes the box to the side and moves onto the next box, that reads “Eddie: Miscellaneous” on the side in marker. This one might actually contain stuff he can get rid of to appease his wife.

His wife.

Eddie loves Myra. Of course he loves his wife. Eddie is a good man with a good job and goals and loves his wife very much. Myra was the perfect woman for him, exactly his type. He enjoys kissing her. He enjoys sleeping with her. She takes care of him. She loves him. Not a lot of people love Eddie, but Myra does. She’s his better half. She keeps him in check. Keeps him focused on what’s important. ...Which, would be her, he guesses?

The key to a healthy, successful marriage is repeating these things over and over again until they’re real, right?

He hears his lovely, selfless, caring wife strut out of the room towards their new living room.

He cuts open the “miscellaneous” box, full of clothes that are not in air-tight baggies nor are they organized by color. He can already smell age on them, possibly dust and mildew from sitting in his mother’s storage. He pulls a few items out, looking at them and then back inside the box. There’s not too many things in here, but it’s obvious they are not from his adulthood. He then examines the few clothing items he’s pulled out - an old fannypack (From when he was a kid, always carrying his meds around. That can go;) an old pair of pajamas (Myra will yell at him for wearing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles pajamas like a teenager. These can go;) a couple old polo shirts (From college, probably. And probably too small by now. They can go;), a zip-up hoodie…

The hoodie looks like it might fit. (But he never wears ash-gray, it’s too cheap-looking for his tastes.) It is a jacket hoodie, might be nice for layering in cold New York winters. He looks over its condition. It’s very worn, almost like it’s supposed to look vintage. One of the wrist cuffs is ripped open at the seam, like someone’s been shoving their fingers through it, something only an annoying kid would do. There’s also a rusty brown stain on the opposite cuff, which is undoubtedly blood. Ew. He looks at the zipper of the jacket, which is missing a metal tab, and extra difficult to zip. Okay, well that’s great. There is no size or manufacturer tag, it’s apparently been ripped out. The strings coming out of the hoodie near the neck are discolored and dingy, and ...are those bite marks at the plastic ends? Disgusting.

There are dark, hard spots around the edges of the pockets on the front. He rubs his thumb across them gently, and knows. They’re cigarette burns. Wow. Well, this definitely wasn’t his, he’s never smoked a day in his life. He would really like to not die of cancer, thank you very much.

His thoughts are abruptly cut short when Eddie subconsciously catches a whiff of the jacket. Undoubtedly, he smells cigarette smoke. Maybe even marijuana, which he’s never touched. But there’s more than that. He pulls the jacket closer to his face, closes his eyes, and smells.

Body spray. Not the nice cologne Eddie wears, but some kind of cheap, douchey-smelling body spray meant to impress girls. Wood. Burning wood, like a bonfire. And… sweat. Someone else’s sweat. Which really should be gross, and it sort of is first, but he keeps breathing it in. It’s an unidentifiable, masculine smell from someone this hoodie belonged to.

There’s something warm in his chest. His heart is pounding as he inhales the jacket’s bouquet over and over again.

“It’s one of my faves.” He can hear a voice say quietly, from somewhere dark in his brain.

His hands are shaking as he sets it down and wipes his hand across his mouth and nose, fidgeting. His mind is racing to identify where this jacket came from, but he can’t complete his mental search. There’s like, nothingness where he expects to find answers. He can feel sweat forming on his forehead and his throat getting tighter. What is happening? Is this an asthma attack? He hasn’t had an attack in years. He puts his hand on his chest and forces himself to breath at a steadier pace, in and out, in and out.

“Eddie-bear, you ok?” He’s startled for a moment. How long was Myra standing there?

He clears his throat. “Yes, dear, I’m okay.” Gotta make up something to throw her off, he doesn’t want her thinking he has ever smoked. She’d never let him live it down. “Just trying to figure out if this is clean or not.”

Myra rips the hoodie from his hand, Eddie grasps at it pathetically. “Why? What does it smell like?” She holds the hood of it up to her nose, then scrunches her face at it. “It doesn’t smell like anything. Just smells dirty.” She tosses it back to him. “Also, it’s torn up. Why do you still have it?” She steps across the wood floors back towards her precious closet. “Just throw it out.”

He knows already this isn’t even his jacket. He just… doesn’t understand why he has it. What he does know is getting rid of it is not an option. He needs this. He’s… supposed to return it, he thinks.

He decides that there is room for it. So he folds it tightly and sticks it in the back of his bottom dresser drawer, where he hopes Myra won’t ever notice it.

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

Richie | 39

Richie wants to fall asleep. Everything will be easier if he just falls asleep. Everything will be over sooner if he just falls asleep.

He looks at his smart watch. It’s 2:40 a.m.

He’s lying on his bed in his LA home, naked except for his boxers, next to a stranger he has just had sex with. The sex was fine, pretty standard. She wasn’t interested in foreplay, which he doesn’t mind because he’s not good at pretending to enjoy it. He’s not really interested in her. She’s not interested in him either, he thinks. She’s probably just interested in writing about it on one of those bullshit ‘celebrity sex review’ blogs. A part of him kind of hopes, actually.

He’s sure of one thing: he wants her out of his home so he can continue to be miserable in peace.

The bed is shifting and he can feel a hand on his chest.

“You okay?” The stranger asks in an innocent voice that fools no one. She’s pretty enough. Rich, dark hair and brown eyes. Tanned skin and a nice body. He doesn’t remember her name or if they even actually talked at the bar. She knew who he was, and that was enough.

“Fuckin great.” He fakes a smile at her. She starts to snuggle against him, which is not the response he wanted. “Hey, listen, this was awesome, but I’m flying out early tomorrow.” He had really hoped to just doze off and deal with this in the morning. But his favorite lie usually worked to get these types of strangers out of his home, out of his life.

“Oh. Where are you going?” She rests her chin on his chest.

“...Chicago.”

“I love Chicago!” She giggles.

Another fake smile, but more difficult to pull of. “Yep.” And he gently moves from under her, leaning away.

“You should totally go to the giant silver bean and take selfies by it-”

“Listen, I gotta get up super early, so I’m gonna call you an Uber.” He lifts himself from the bed and walks across the bedroom to pull on a t-shirt.

“Oh? Okay.” She responds too happily. It’s irritating that she isn’t taking a hint. She gets up and begins pulling on her shorts and heels.

Richie heads to his nightstand, where he picks up his phone and requests an Uber to his Hollywood home. “‘Jerry’ will be here in six minutes in his ‘2015 Toyota Camry.’ He’ll take you wherever you want.” He’s not very good at hiding the fact that he doesn’t really care if she gets home, just as long as she goes.

He hears her ridiculously tall Stilettos click behind him and feels hands on his shoulders. “My number’s in your phone. Call me when you get back?”

Goddamn it, just go already. “Sure.”

Her arms drop to her sides and she makes an annoyed noise. She just got the hint.

His sexual guest struts across the living room towards the entryway, holding her bag and jacket. Richie can’t help but examine her ass as she walks, even though there’s no longer any mystery to what lies beneath her shorts. He scans the room for anything missing (he’s been robbed by a hot woman once or twice) and sees a bright pink bra and lacy top still lying on the couch. He  sees that she is wearing his shirt, on her way out.

Nuh-uh, no, NOPE, they are not playing this game. “Uh, sweetheart.” He whistles. She stops and turns to him, and he responds by eyeing her up-and-down. “Can I have my shirt back?”

She tests him with a coy smile. “Well, maybe I’ll bring it back to you?”

“No, no no no no no no, you can wear your own clothes home. That’s my favorite shirt.” He extends an arm and is flexing his fingers in a ‘gimme’ motion.

She’s taken aback, but comes back towards him to take off the shirt. Slowly. Presenting her tits.

They’re not that impressive. And she’s being annoying, so he’s done pretending to be charming.

He smirks, snatches the shirt from her hand, and then walks back towards his bedroom.

He can hear her shuffle to pick up her remaining clothes, her heels clicking across the floor. She scoffs. “So, that’s it?”

He doesn’t face her, he just raises a waving hand to gesture ‘goodbye.’ “That’s it!”

“Wow. Fuck you.” She spouts.

Richie tosses his shirt on his kitchen counter. Bless his open floor plan. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

She mockingly laughs and opens the front door. “You’re an asshole. And you’re not funny.”

“Okie dokes!” He says casually at her.

The Uber driver pulls up behind her in the driveway. “ASSHOLE!” She shrieks, and slams the door shut.

He slumps onto his stupidly-expensive couch and exhales in relief. “Yep. I sure am.”

He doesn’t know why he allows himself to get used by every horny fan he meets. (And “fan” is a generous term. None of them even give a shit about his comedy, they just know who he is and that he’s got a couple specials on Netflix.)

He should be grateful. He’s got everything he could ever want and need. He’s got a huge house, plenty of money, 156K followers on Instagram, more comedy special gigs on the way, may even go on tour with some big names. He’s got a shot at Saturday Night Live, his manager tells him. Not that Richie wants to move to New York. He doesn’t know anyone in New York.

Not that he knows anyone in LA, either. Just horny fans he meets in sleazy bars.

He should be grateful, and he knows that. But he’s just miserable. And alone.

He rubs his eyes under his glasses and lets them fall back onto his nose before he stands up to march himself to sleep. He grabs his shirt on the way back to his empty bedroom.

“Bitch thought she could take my favorite shirt.” And he flicks off the lightswitch.

[castielgurl]

Come Into My Life Chapter 10

You can read the full chapter here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13693443/chapters/47086378?view_adult=true

The next morning.

Selena was nervous; she remembers Natalia's face during the wedding ceremony. She was worried about the young girl. Is she willing to get married?

Scott saw Selena's face as restless.

"Selena, why with your face? Steve with Nat the one married why are you worried about it?" Scott chuckles. Scott slept at Steve's house after yesterday's wedding.

"I saw Nat's face yesterday, she looked sad on her wedding ceremony yesterday," Selena remembered

"Why would she want to upset anyway, nobody forces her to get married? She`s agreed to marry Steve" Scott talking while drinking water

"I wonder why Mister Roger wants to keep secret about their marriage. Is he ashamed to marry a teenage girl?" Selena feels weird

"He's probably kept a secret because he's a CEO, and just divorced his wife; imagine if people know about it, the media will be crazy. People will say Nat just wants money. He will reveal who Natalia later. "Scott understands his boss's mind.

"Now people are indifferent. The old man married young women is normal. I think Nat was sad because her mother was not present at her wedding." Selena might guess.

"It's okay, you can replace her mother," Scott told Selena.

*******************************************************************************************

Nat got up early and set up breakfast for Steve. This is the first time she cooks for Steve. Selena says he likes to eat toast for breakfast.

"Good morning Mister Rogers," Nat said as she poured tea

"Good morning, Nat you don`t need to prepare breakfast for me. Selena can do all this." Steve sat on the chair

"But I feel guilty for not helping. I just sit in this house and do nothing" Nat stood beside Steve

"You're my wife, you don`t need to feel guilty. Let’s sit down with me." Steve told Nat to sit

"No, I want to eat with Selena in the kitchen"

"It's okay, you eat with me and I'm will be busy with work, maybe there's no time to have breakfast with you anymore" Steve shows the chair

Nat finally agreed to eat with Steve.

"Mister Rogers, I have a request" Natalia tried to be brave

"What is it?" Steve asking

"I want to ask you for permission to move to my room back. Because I felt uncomfortable to sleep in your room. So we can be comfortable again "Nat hoped Steve was not upset

"Sure. It's not a problem” Steve understand

"Good morning Steve" Sharon suddenly appeared

"Sharon what did you do here early in the morning?" Steve did not expect Sharon to suddenly appear.

"I'm looking for you at our office. Oh, it looks like you both have breakfast together. Sweet indeed uncle and niece eat together "Sharon stood beside a table

"Yeah, nothing wrong for uncle and niece eating together right? Sharon let sit and have a breakfast "Steve invited Sharon to eat

"Sure. Thanks” Sharon sat down. "How long did Natalia stay here? Did Peggy know about her?" Sharon began to investigate

"She's just staying here, her college is just twenty minutes from here, and Peggy has not met her yet," Steve answered quickly

"Steve how about we have lunch together today? We haven`t eaten together for a long time. I will pay” Sharon smiled as she touched Steve's shoulders

Natalia watches with Sharon's touching her husband. She understood that Sharon knew Steve for much longer. But Sharon seems to be deliberately trying to make her jealous. Sharon also looked at her cynically. She probably hates her.

Natalia waited for Steve to send her to college. Sharon came and sat next to her.

"You are Natalia, right? I want to tell you that Peggy is Steve's, first love. In our university, they were called the most beautiful couple. Don`t even dream you can win Steve`s heart. You need to see yourself in the mirror. You definitely not his type. Ok see you later Natalia "Sharon said arrogantly.

Natalia and Steve stay silent in the car.

******************************************************************************************* Sharon was unsatisfied and confronted with Steve. She needs to find an answer.

“Steve you have changed a lot now, and you rarely go out with me anymore" Sharon meets Steve at his office

"I'm busy, you know after my father died." Steve was trying to ignore Sharon.

"But every time I see Natalia I felt something wrong. I don`t believe she's your niece, I think you're lying and making up the stories" Sharon said

"Why do I have to lie? Sharon, I`m warning you do not interfere with my personal business" Steve gave a warning

"Steve, I'm your best friend. I just saying that Nat and Scott look very close, at first I thought Natalia was Scott's lover, and young girls nowadays like older men, although Scott is not as rich as you. But Scott is a man. He can afford to take care of her "Sharon tried to change Steve's mind. And she left Steve's office.

Steve started thinking whether Scott and Natalia had something behind his back

*******************************************************************************************

Steve asked Scott to send him to the golf center. Scott took Natalia after college. Natalia was surprised to see Steve suddenly in the car. Usually, only Scott was in the car.

The home trip seems very strange because of Steve's presence.

"After this, we want to go to the stationery shop. Natalia wants to buy books and equipment for her exam" Scott told Steve

"Well, I'm not going to play golf, I will follow both of you," Steve said

Natalia and Scott were shocked

“Sure”

Nat and Scott walk to the stationery shop. Steve just watched from behind. They were both very friendly and lots of laughing together. They take a photo together, and Natalia's post it on her Instagram. Steve pretends to look at books while he watches his wife look happy with Scott.

Steve and Natalia are waiting for Scott who is busy talking on the phone. Natalia is busy taking a selfie. Steve just sat down and watched Natalia's actions.

“You seem to be busy. Your followers look forwards for important updates from you. Go ahead followers are important right?” Steve exclaimed as Natalia did not speak a word with him at all.

"Mister Rogers I`m sorry, I don`t know what to talk to you” Natalia keeps her phone in the pocket

"You talk to Scott a lot of things," Steve said

"Scott is a little bit different, even though he's older, but he's cool and chill, I can talk anything with him," Natalia said with a smile

Steve feels a bit lousy with Natalia. Because his wife doesn`t like to talk to him. He made an annoying face at Natalia.

******************************************************************************************* During work time Nat sends a message. Nat told Steve to go home for dinner because she cooked Steve's favorite food, Chicken Grill. Steve just smiled and said ok. He then watched the cooking video post by Natalia on Instagram. Without realizing he smiled alone.

Sharon came to Steve's office. She asks Steve's help to accompany her to the project presentation with Sharon's client. Steve was initially reluctant because he had promised with Nat. But he finally said yes.

It's almost midnight. But Steve is still not home. Nat only she able to see the food she cooked on the table. She still refuses to eat because she is waiting for Steve.

Steve finally came home after that.

"Mister Rogers, you promised to eat together tonight, but where are you going?" Nat felt very upset. She might raise her voice higher.

"I'm sorry because I have an important meeting. I already had my dinner" Steve forgot to call Natalia because he was too busy

"But you made a promised; you can at least call me or send a message or something” Nat was very angry with Steve's ignorance. She was very hungry, and Steve didn`t tell her that he was home late.

Steve feels very annoying

"First of all the promise is not everything to be fulfilled, and the second I don`t ask you to wait for me or cook for me. I can say now Natalia Romanova you have to remember the purpose of our marriage. I told you I will not treat you as a wife. You don`t have the right to prohibit me from going out with anyone or interfere with my work. Do you understand? "Steve was very angry and felt that Nat did not respect him. He went straight to his room as he was too tired and need to sleep.

Natalia tried to deceive herself. She acknowledged that Mister Rogers's words were very painful. Although she realized she should not have any feelings about Steve. She knows who she is. And she should not be angry with someone who has helped her a lot. Nat could only cry until she fell asleep.

******************************************************************************************* The next day Nat takes a suit for Mister Rogers. Nat knocked on the door but Steve did not answer. Nat kept opening the door and put a suit on the bed. Then she realized that she forgot the socks and handkerchiefs. Nat talks to herself. Then Steve suddenly appeared from behind. He's just after a shower.

"Who are you talking to?” Steve rebuked

Nat turn around her body because she was shocked by the voice. Natalia then stunned because Steve was wearing only a towel around his waist

"Mister Rogers forgive me, I thought you not in the room." Natalia's face was red because she had never seen a man shirtless. And Steve's body is very muscular. Nat kept looking down as it was very shy to see Mister Rogers's face.

"You don`t have to do this, it's Selena's work, you don`t come here to be a maid,” Steve said, taking his suit on the bed.

"But I feel ashamed if I do not help," she said. "I'll let Selena do it next time." Nat quickly got out of the room because she felt very embarrassed.

Steve holds Nat's wrist.

"Well, you don`t have to be shy, I'm your husband, you can look at me, its normal" Steve feels weird with Natalia's attitude

Nat looked at Mister Rogers's face. And saw her wrists still held by Mister Rogers. Steve realized and immediately let go of Natalia's hand.

"Uh, Nat afternoon I want to take you to the restaurant, I'll take you from college." Steve tries to change the topic.

"Thanks, Mister Rogers, I prefer to eat home cooking, because I don`t have much money, it's better to save money, I'll have to pay you later” Natalia remembers Steve's words to her yesterday. Of course, she refuses.

Natalia left Steve speechless.

******************************************************************************************* At noon, Steve was waiting for Natalia outside the college. Although Nat refused his invitation, Steve still forced Nat. He uses the power of authority.

"Nat, let's get in the car." Steve gave directions

Nat refused to come in.

"Natalia Alianova Romanova! I told you to get into the car now or I'm picking you up. Now you make a choice." Steve was ashamed as just ignore his request.

Nat grumbled, but eventually agreed and got in the car.

They eat in a luxury restaurant. But Natalia still refuses to touch her food.

"Why you don`t eat anything, you're hungry, you didn`t eat dinner and breakfast this morning" Steve knew why Natalia behaved so "Stop being sulky, the people who like being sobs and sulky will fail in life," Steve said cynically.

Nat rolled her eyes.

"Nat, I brought you here, because I want to apologize about yesterday, I should not say that to you, I want you to give me more time, I need to know you, and you need to know me" Steve holds Natalia's hands

And for the first time, Steve smiled to Nat. Nat was stunned because Steve's smile was so sweet. His teeth are beautifully arranged. Natalia's heart began to melt even when she was angry with Steve for a while. Nat also smiled as well.

"Eat, I have a lot of work to do next." Steve continued to eat

Nat takes some food using a spoon. She then handed the spoon to Steve. He was initially a little hesitant. But he then ate the food from his wife's hands

"Wow, how sweet you two."

"Sharon?"

[pcttrailsidereader]

How an App Made Hiking Easier (perhaps too easy)

An excerpt from Taylor Gee’s article in The Guardian examining the unintended consequences of Guthook Guides’ maps that have made outdoor adventures far less wild.  I must admit being old school myself and even feel sometimes that all of the information on Halfmile’s maps makes me feel a bit lazy.  Guthook Guides’ seems, at times, to remove the mystery from the trail.  What’s your reaction to Gee’s critique?

In March 2012, the Pacific Crest Trail changed for good when Cheryl Strayed’s memoir Wild, about her 1995 thru-hike of the trail, hit shelves and quickly became a New York Times bestseller. [Between the book and the movie] from 2013 to 2018, PCT applications nearly quadrupled.

But Wild wasn’t the only thing that transformed the trail that March. The same month, a thru-hiker named Ryan Linn quietly released an iPhone application called Guthook Guides. It took the entire set of tools needed for thru-hiking – a map, compass, guidebook and water reports – and consolidated them into a single virtual location. It functioned offline and crowdsourced updated information about trail conditions and campsites when online. Such an app might have been inevitable, but for ultralight-obsessed thru-hikers, it was a revolution.

Linn’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect. In the last three years, the app has been downloaded 337,000 times, and in 2018, a survey of 500 PCT hikers found that 85% used the app. What started in 2010 as a passion project is now a company that employs five people full-time and has mapped more than two dozen long trails around the world.

But as the the app’s empire continues to grow, many thru-hikers worry about its unintended consequences. They see themselves and fellow hikers depending on their phones to decide where to sleep and eat and to discover exactly how far, down to the tenth of a mile, they are from those places. They fear that American thru-hiking, once the ultimate test of self-reliance, is no longer as wild as it once was.

While attending Vassar College in 2002, Linn joined an outdoors club. The upperclassmen decided that the new recruits needed intimidating nicknames. One day, Linn and two other club members were driving past a hunting and fishing store and pulled over to wander the aisles for inspiration. Linn became “Guthook”, and it stuck through college and afterward, when he hiked the AT in 2007 and the PCT in 2010.

It was while hiking the PCT that Linn met Paul Bodnar, a guidebook author who was collecting GPS data on trail with the intent of updating a PCT guide he had published in 2009. In the era of “there should be an app for that”, it didn’t take long for the two to start talking about what a smartphone-based guide would look like. “We figured it would be something for us to do on the side, in between seasonal work,” says Linn, who since college had been doing various trail-crew and outdoor-education jobs.

After they finished their hike, Linn spent the next year and a half using the GPS data Bodnar had collected to create the first version of Guthook Guides, learning to code as he went. Visually, the app looks similar to the paper topographical maps hikers have used for decades. Virtual icons along the trail designate campsites, water sources, intersecting roads, and trail-town information. But unlike paper maps, Guthook Guides is GPS-enabled, and users can click on an icon to learn more or add a comment. The ability to leave comments, in particular, made Guthook Guides more than a guidebook. Hikers could tell other users whether a water source had gone dry, the quality of a campsite, and the friendliness of local businesses.

After the 2012 release, the app made just enough money for Linn to pay a friend to collect data while hiking the AT in 2013. (The app is free to download, but users must purchase guides for each trail.) The AT guide was released the next year. In 2015, Guthook Guides became available on Android phones. By then, Linn and Bodnar, the app’s co-creators, understood that Guthook Guides was no longer a side project. They went all in.

A sense of surviving in the wilderness is a major reason why a 2,000-mile hike is more than just a feat of athleticism. Taking a wrong turn, getting lost, navigating back – all that misadventure and the intellectual challenge of sorting it out makes for better stories than does walking in a straight line dictated by an app. Yet thru-hiking the PCT last year, I had to stop myself from checking the Guthook app as often as every hour. At one point, my hiking partner even instituted a no-Guthook rule, with the hope that we’d reclaim some sense of agency over our endeavor. Our self-imposed app ban didn’t last, because pretending we didn’t have this all-knowing resource in our pockets felt somehow inauthentic. Especially when most everyone else on trail was embracing it as reality.

It’s hard to overstate the impact that Guthook has had on the experience of thru-hiking. I talked to nearly a dozen hikers and trail managers who all seemed simultaneously concerned that the app enables hikers to lose self-reliance and awareness of their surroundings but couldn’t deny its supreme usefulness.

[PCT hiker Eric] Lee compares the impact of Guthook Guides to what Google Maps has done for driving. “We no longer have to think about landmarks and turns and street names. We just type our address into the phone and press go,” he says, noting that it undoubtedly makes thru-hiking an easier, more stress-free experience. But because of the app, he sees more hikers today who are not as viscerally connected to the trail. “They’re walking from waypoint to waypoint. It’s just a set of numbers.”

This effect has led to some pushback against the app. “I’ve encouraged people to not use it,” says Lucas Weaver, a 29-year-old fiber-optic technician who used Guthook Guides while hiking the Continental Divide Trail last year. “I’m not saying don’t get it, I’m saying don’t let it dictate, don’t rely on it.” Weaver is glad he hadn’t yet downloaded the app when he hiked the AT in 2015. “Being out there without any guide or technology makes it more adventurous,” he says.

The app’s popularity has coincided with the use of phones creeping into trails more generally. Now hikers have Instagram accounts to update with selfies, blogs to write, and loved ones to keep in touch with.

Sometimes use of the app enters into the absurd. “We came across many hikers who would use the app to the point they would lose common sense,” says Jen Nicholson, a 29-year-old physical therapist who also thru-hiked the Continental Divide Trail last year. She recalls hikers who insisted on walking five feet off to the side of the trail because their GPS told them that’s where the path was.

Then there are the stories of hikers relying on trail apps who lose or break their phones or even just run out of battery. For those who forgo paper backup maps to save weight (I was guilty of this myself), a dead phone makes getting lost more frightening than thrilling. Rachel Brown, membership-services manager for the Continental Divide Trail Coalition, recalls encountering this multiple times when hiking the trail in 2015. A friend of hers lost her phone, spent hours searching for it, didn’t find it, and had no backup maps. “She ended up camping out at a really confusing trail junction for three days until somebody else came,” Brown says. Another time, Brown hiked with a man who dropped his phone into a creek. “He ended up sticking like glue to my partner and me,” she recalls. “It was a little frustrating for us, because it kind of felt like we were babysitting. He was always there.”

Perhaps most telling is Guthook’s own experience. Last summer on a backpacking trip, Linn found he had drifted off of a poorly marked trail. “I stopped, and I was about to grab my phone,” says Linn. “Now I have to really consciously tell myself, ‘No, no, no. You just noticed you’re off the trail, go and find it.’” Linn is thoughtful about how his app has affected life on trails. “There are downsides to every new technology in the wilderness,” he admits. “Probably people are using Guthook a little more than I would have wanted.”

For all the good and the bad attributable to Guthook Guides, the consensus is things are just different now. In 2003, Eric Lee accidentally turned off the PCT and hours later ran into another hiker who told him he was going the wrong way. Lee didn’t believe him. “We brought out paper maps and discussed it for 15 minutes” before the other hiker convinced Lee of the truth. Back then that was part of the experience, and maybe even charm, of the trail. “Today that would never happen,” says Lee. “But I’m OK with that.”

[lightsburnbrite]

Such a Thrill: Part 8

“You’ve been a naughty little Maus, haven’t you?”

Karina sat on her feet, Leon towering over her now.

“Very, very bad.” Leon took ahold of Karina’s jaw but slid his thumb over her lips until she parted them and greedily sucked on his thumb. “No, no. I think you need to be punished first.”

Karina let out a small whimpers as he removed his thumb and walked away but she quickly stood to follow him. As soon as he moved a chair out from the table, she knew what he had in mind. Leon sat down and smirked as Karina stood in front of him and unbuttoned her jeans. Sliding her jeans and her panties to her knees in one motion, Leon took her by the elbow and pulled her close enough so that he could put her over his knee.

Clasping her wrists together in his left hand, Leon gently placed his right hand against her bare ass and slowly rubbed in a circular motion before pulling his hand a way and giving it a swat. Karina stifled a moan as Leon repeated the process a few more times.

Letting go of her wrists, Leon let his left hand rest on the small of her back. “Do you think you’ve learned your lesson now?”

Again, Karina whimpered.

“Shhh,” Leon began to stroke his thumb along her backside now. “You know I never leave you like this.”

Her whimper soon turned to a moan as she felt his fingers searching and then stroking as they found their intended target.

Just as Leon was about to plunge his fingers inside of her, a police car drove past her apartment, the siren causing her eyes to fly open. Karina sat up and gasped when she realized that she had been dreaming and that even worse, she hadn’t gotten off.

With a groan, she flopped back down and covered her face with her hands.

She heard Leon yawn next to her as he began to stir. “Whaswrong” he mumbled, still half asleep.

“Just a dream,” She shook her head to herself and closed her eyes again.

“Huh?” Another sleepy response.

Finally, Karina rolled over to her side and began to rub his stomach before she took hold of him. “I’m horny.”

Now he was awake. “Ok.”

Karina wasted no time with formalities. She slipped her shirt over her head and sat astride Leon, grinding against him a few times before guiding him into her. She was already so aroused that she didn’t need much time to adjust before she started rocking back and forth, her pace hard and fast.

“Fuck,” Leon exhaled as he grabbed ahold of the slats on her headboard. Part of him was hoping for lazy, drawn out, good morning sex but he soon realized this was not what Karina needed right now. Either way he wasn’t going to turn her down.

Karina’s breathing intensified and Leon moved to grip her hips, pushing himself farther in with each stroke. Feeling an all too familiar sensation building in his groin, Leon willed himself to hold off as much as he could, he wanted Karina to come first. Eyes closed, her body went rigid then quivered in waves as he released thick spurts inside of her.

Karina remained on top of him as she caught her breath, eventually pushing her hair out of her face. Gently running his hands along her thighs, Leon eventually encouraged her to lean forward enough for him to kiss her. She eventually slid off to his side but rested her head against his shoulder.

“Good morning to you too,” Leon let out a satisfied sigh as he stroked his fingers along Karina’s spine.

“Maybe you could say you’re sick.” She spoke softly, dreamily, before yawning.

Giving her forehead a kiss, he laughed now. “You know I can’t do that.”

“I know,” She yawned again. “But I might wear my vibrator out if you’re gone for any longer.”

Leon laughed and kissed her again. “Tell you what, since we’re both up, why don’t we take Elsa and go grab a coffee before I need to leave?”

Karina soon realized that one of the benefits of having a young puppy that demanded almost all of her attention was that she didn’t have time to dwell on the fact that Leon wasn’t there. She also realized that anything that would keep her away from the apartment for an extended period of time required getting someone to take care of Elsa for that time. Fortunately, there was a couple, probably about 15 years her senior, that lived on the same floor and had a young daughter that just adored Elsa. They were more than happy to puppysit when Karina needed the help.

Once she had picked out her dress to wear to Friedrich’s, Karina figured she’d take the opportunity to tease Leon a bit.

Leon was sitting at dinner with a handful of his teammates that he also considered to be his friends when he saw a text with a picture from Karina pop up on his phone. Opening it up, he found a full length mirror selfie of Karina wearing a skintight one shouldered black minidress. It looked modest enough with a high neckline and her right arm fully covered, but it was also gathered at the right side so that a significant amount of leg could be shown if she wanted to. He could also see her favorite studded clutch in one hand and just the top of a pair of scrappy shoes that he knew to have impossibly high heels. Leon felt his breath catch in his throat as he read: too bad you weren’t here to help zip me up

Leon quickly responded, not wanting to stare at his phone in the present company: not making this any easier on me, Mausi

Thinking he had avoided any one else catching a glimpse, Joshua quickly elbowed him. “Who’s that?”

Figuring it was pointless to click his phone off now, he just played it on the table. “Remember my friend Marius, that’s his little sister, Karina.”

Joshua glanced over and smiled. “Do all of your friend’s hot sisters send you selfies?”

“Yeah well, she’s also my girlfriend, we’ve been seeing each other since the summer.” Leon laughed at his initial hesitation and made a mental note to call her once he got back to his room. “She’s got a thing to go to tonight and she’s not happy that I’m not there to go with her so its payback I guess.”

Karina stood off to the side and smiled politely, secretly thankful that Friedrich hadn’t introduced her to the crowd as his new one wall gallery was unveiled. She allowed herself one glass of champagne and decided she’d stop for takeout on her way home as very few of the hors d’oeuvres being served were actually appealing. After speaking with a few people but mainly just standing around, Karina wanted to think that she’d be having a much better time if Leon was there with her but she knew even he couldn’t make it a better evening for her.

“It’s an amazing display, isn’t it?”

Karina turned, wondering if the question was even being aimed at her. She found a man, probably mid forties, smiling broadly at her.

“Yes,” She nodded. “It does bring some life to the space.”

“Thomas Klein,” He offered an out stretched hand in introduction. “Can I get you another drink?”

“Oh, uh, no thank you. It’s going to be an early evening for me.” She smiled sheepishly when she realized that she had not introduced herself as well. “Sorry, Karina Müller.”

Suddenly Klein’s face lit up. “This is you, then! I mean you pulled this together for Hansi. It’s brilliant!”

“Thank you.” Karina felt her face flush as she knew very well that there was nothing spectacular about the pieces. In fact, she considered it to be quite gaudy.

“No, I mean it.” Klein continued to nod enthusiastically. “I’d love for you to come and do something like this for me. I mean, my place isn’t this grand but…anyway, tell me about-”

Karina’s phone rang and she could tell right away from the Dance Macabre ringtone that it was Leon. “Excuse me, I need to take this.”

“Oh my god, babe, I’ve never been so happy to have you call me.” Karina sighed as she found a quiet room and leaned against a wall.

That got a laugh from Leon. “C’mon Mausi, it can’t be that bad.”

“I mean, it’s boring but there was some guy that wouldn’t stop talking and then he’s like oh I should get you to do something like this for me.” She exhaled, realizing that there was a good chance she was speaking too quickly for Leon to take it all in. “Anyway.”

His first response was to laugh. “Hey, look at it this way, at least you’re really good at pretending to like someone.”

“What makes you say that?” Karina had an idea but she wanted to hear Leon say it.

“I know there was at least one time that you were really, I mean really pissed with me but I only know that now with hindsight. It’ll be over soon, I’ll be home soon and then we can move on.”

Now sighed and then smiled. “Ok.”

Karina eventually walked back to the party, smile still on her face until Klein tracked her down again.

“Do you have a business card or something? I’m really interested-”

“I’m sorry,” She cut him off this time. “I’m not sure if I’d have the time to do that right now. This was more of a one off with me still finishing school-”

“No, I totally get it!” He was still nodding enthusiastically. “Maybe in the future. I can tell you have a real talent for this.”

Again, she wanted to laugh, but Karina kept Leon’s words in mind. “Thank you, again. Perhaps sometime in the future.”

Karina stopped by Ruff’s Burgers on her way home for a cheeseburger and truffle fries but she only realized when she got home that there wasn’t any beer to go with it.

“Oh well,” She looked down at Elsa who was furiously shaking a stuffed toy. “I guess Prosecco will have to do.”

Leon wanted to laugh at himself. The training was definitely intense but as soon as he stopped focusing on it, his mind went to Karina. They were in almost constant contact while he was away but he was starting to feel like just speaking to her wasn’t enough. Leon actually missed just being with her. He missed the way she would just glance over at him and smile, he missed how she would play with his hair and then tease him that it was getting out of control or how she would steal his shirts or hoodies and they’d come back smelling like her perfume. He wanted to laugh at himself because he finally realized that he had fallen hard for her.

Joshua teased at Leon about it at first but soon gave up when he realized that Karina really made him happy.

“So what’s she like? You think she and Lina would get along?” The two were side by side on stationary bike during a recovery session. “She’s been bugging me to go out with some other couples lately.”

Leon rolled his eyes as he repeated the question. “What’s she like? I don’t really know how to describe her. She’s sweet and funny but I have no idea how she would get on with Lina. Karina can take a little time to warm up to new people so she can come off as bitchy sometimes.”

“She sounds exactly like Lina!” Joshua laughed again. “They’ll either love each other or it will be horrible.”

With a shrug, Leon nodded. “Yeah, I’ll see what she says.”

On the plane home, Leon debated on going straight to Karina’s place or if he should stop by his apartment first. It had become a running joke between them, Leon had the code to Karina’s apartment and a small stash of clothes and toiletries there while Karina had only been to his place twice. It wasn’t necessarily a conscious decision but Karina’s apartment was bigger, closer to both the university and Saebener Strasse and then it was just easier having Elsa in on place. Leon was spending less and less time at his apartment but neither he nor Karina had mentioned anything about moving in together.

Ultimately, his desire to see Karina as soon as possible outweighed any other factors.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Leon punched in the key code and walked in to find Karina sitting on the sofa, eyes glued to the television. Leon was going to make a joke about her lack of acknowledgement until he stopped and listened to what the news reporter had to say.

…lawyer has reported that he has passed away at his home following a lengthy battle with pancreatic cancer. Details are limited at this time but one major question is who will inherit the majority of Strohman’s estate. We will bring you more information as it emerges. Again, we are reporting on the death of Marwin Strohman, a notable contributor to Munich’s fine art museums…

[crafiet]

1-50 OC questionnaire !!

ill use ary

1. What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything?anyone else paranoid about people stealing their unpublished work or ideas or name bc me. her name is ary and i found it from a generator [lmao so original] and i thought it was cute. her last name is like pretty standard for fantasy and it inspired me to have everyone elses last names in a similar vibe2. Do they have any titles? How did they get them?WELL lmao shes had a lot. prisoner #22876, the wraith, princess ary. ive scrapped all except the prisoner one and u can guess how she got it3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory? she was raised among royals and nobles so she has a lot of good memories with her parents and other kids her age running around doing dumb shit. most of her bad memories happen once she becomes a teenager4. What is their relationship with their parents? What’s a good and bad memory with them? Did they know both parents? she has an overwhelming love for her parents, she idolizes them heavily and is grateful for how much they taught her. a good memory is probably them teaching her how to use magic for the first time and she being unable to control it and almost burning her eyebrows off lmao5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults?no siblings6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?tbh i havent thought much about their education system as young kids, since its not really relevant and i dont tend to worldbuild stuff that never shows up. however she did attend an academy specifically for her magic caste and she had a fun time up until some shit went down and she deserted. shes pretty competitive and liked versing her friends7. Did they have lots of friends as a child? Did they keep any of their childhood friends into adulthood? she was one of those weird kids who preferred hanging out with her parents over everybody else. so she had one good friend in the academy whos still her friend today, but otherwise she would race home and annoy her mum lol8. Did they have pets as a child? Do they have pets as an adult? Do they like animals? no pets. she has a soft spot for horses though, because she has had so many in her “career”9. Do animals like them? Do they get on well with animals? horses like her, i guess they can sense shes good with them. at one point in the novel she sees some jackals and is afraid of them so shes probably not a dog person10. Do they like children? Do children like them? Do they have or want any children? What would they be like as a parent? Or as a godparent/babysitter/ect?she doesnt have anything against kids, but shes not very good with them, shes never been one for baby talk or dumbing herself down. in one draft she takes care of some adolescents and lets cyri take over bc he loves kids lol11. Do they have any special diet requirements? Are they a vegetarian? Vegan? Have any allergies?nahh12. What is their favourite food? uhhhhhhhhhhhhh13. What is their least favourite food?uhHHHHHH14. Do they have any specific memories of food/a restaurant/meal?man idk, its not like my characters arent well rounded realistic people but im not gonna know her favourite fucking colour bc it doesnt matter in the story lmao15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking?i would say shes ok, she doesnt burn anything but shes not a gourmet chef [despite having lessons as a child]16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it? ohh i used to have an answer for this but she probably doesnt now just bc shes pretty nomadic and usually only has the clothes on her back lmao17. Do they like to take photos? What do they like to take photos of? Selfies? What do they do with their photos?cameras dont exist in her world my dudee. but if she lived in modern day which ive thought of, shed be the type to take a bunch of pics of her friends and stuff she likes bc she likes having the memory in a solid form, her actual memory is shit lol18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything elsehmm i suppose shed be a horror fan, and shed love making fun of stupid characters19. What’s their least favourite genres?man idk. romance? shes kinda #2edgy4me20. Do they like musicals? Music in general? What do they do when they’re favourite song comes?hmm i think shes more a soft music fan, just something idly playing in the background. ex. a bard playing something for the crowd while she kicks back w friends21. Do they have a temper? Are they patient? What are they like when they do lose their temper?she has a short temper. shes easily triggered with any emotion so shes quick to argue or whatever22. What are their favourite insults to use? What do they insult people for? Or do they prefer to bitch behind someone’s back?id like to think shes witty, and she always says stuff to peoples faces bc a bitch has rabies and wants to fight apparently23. Do they have a good memory? Short term or long term? Are they good with names? Or faces?bad memory, shes gone through physical torture and isolation [wew] so. shes better at names, growing up with royals she got to learn a bunch of family names etc24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress?a light sleeper. crazy light. and she can sleep anywhere, so she has no problems sleeping on the ground unlike others25. What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves?she pretends to be stoic but when u get to know her her humour’s pretty lame, shell laugh at anything if just to make u feel better26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions? she tends to hide them under an indifferent mask27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad?despite being able to hide her emotions, she does succumb to fear a lot and cries openly, but will continue to do whatever shes doing through tears so shes scary in that regard28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?abandonment is a huge one. shes not a fan of predatory animals. shes brave though, and will do whatevers necessary, kinda like unwilling exposure therapy lol29. What do they do when they find out someone else’s fear? Do they tease them? Or get very over protective? she doesnt like exploiting people so shell never use someones fear against them. for friends, shell protect them and warn them if something like that is gonna happen30. Do they exercise? Regularly? Or only when forced? What do they act like pre-work out and post-work out?lmao she walks or goes horse riding everywhere and is severely malnourished31. Do they drink? What are they like drunk? What are they like hungover? How do they act when other people are drunk or hungover? Kind or teasing?i just wrote a scene like this!! shes louder in general, laughs more. her guard comes down more and more with every drink. she can hold her liquor pretty well but when shes blacked out shes pretty much useless32. What do they dress like? What sorta shops do they buy clothes from? Do they wear the fashion that they like? What do they wear to sleep? Do they wear makeup? What’s their hair like?she prefers comfort and mobility over everything else. she tends to dress pretty masculine, and never does anything with her hair. does she know what a brush is?33. What underwear do they wear? Boxers or briefs? Lacey? Comfy granny panties?...................ask her lol idk. probably just basic comfy ones34. What is their body type? How tall are they? Do they like their body?she is 5′9. when shes healthy, she has a willowy figure but more on the boxy side than curvy. she doesnt really attribute much to her body [imagine living life without dysmorphia mfg]35. What’s their guilty pleasure? What is their totally unguilty pleasure? i dont she counts anything as a ‘guilty’ pleasure. she just enjoys what she enjoys, fuck whatever people think36. What are they good at? What hobbies do they like? Can they sing?she loves fishing! she used to do it a lot with her dad. i dont think shes a particularly good singer37. Do they like to read? Are they a fast or slow reader? Do they like poetry? Fictional or non fiction?yeah she likes reading. she reads pretty fast and prefers nonfiction. she thinks poetry can get too pretentious lmao38. What do they admire in others? What talents do they wish they had?#deep but i think she admires kindness and care in others. she wishes she was a better person at times and wants to be able to express how much people meant to her39. Do they like letters? Or prefer emails/messaging? lmao letters are the only thing in her world. if she lived w us shed probably be all about texting 600 in a row and then calling when u dont reply “what do u mean you cant answer. its called INSTANT messaging for a reason!!”40. Do they like energy drinks? Coffee? Sugary food? Or can they naturally stay awake and alert?she stays awake through sheer willpower shes a beast41. What’s their sexuality? What do they find attractive? Physically and mentally? What do they like/need in a relationship?shes bi/pan. not really a thing about labels in her world. she loves long hair and soft personalities42. What are their goals? What would they sacrifice anything for? What is their secret ambition?plot spoilers!!43. Are they religious? What do they think of religion? What do they think of religious people? What do they think of non religious people?shes not religious. there is a heavy theme of religion in the novel [which i need to write better in the second draft] but she was kinda skeptical as a child and probably lost faith entirely after she went through some harrowing stuff 44. What is their favourite season? Type of weather? Are they good in the cold or the heat? What weather do they complain in the most? winter. she prefers the cold and hates heat45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves? i think people see her as scarier than she is. shes a formidable opponent and does not give a fuck what you say, but her reputation precedes her a little bit, a lot of things she did out of fear or force are seen as ‘badass’ and ‘brave’46. Do they make a good first impression? Does their first impression reflect them accurately? How do they introduce themselves?shes a compulsive liar, and a good one at that. so she tends to show herself differently to almost everyone she meets, but usually its a false potrayal47. How do they act in a formal occasion? What do they think of black tie wear? Do they enjoy fancy parties and love to chit chat or loathe the whole event?ugh she haaaaaates formal stuff and parties. she grew up royal and had to suffer through many a dinner and gathering. at this point in her life youd never get her in a dress that impeded her movement. shes ok with dresses but really big poofy ones she refuses to wear48. Do they enjoy any parties? If so what kind? Do they organise the party or just turn up? How do they act? What if they didn’t want to go but were dragged along by a friend? in our world shed be one for a chill house party. show up with a case of beer, sit outside by the barbie, listen to music and talk shit. shes not good at organising so she doesnt tend to host, and if she were dragged by a friend itd probably be to a formal event or with people she didnt know so shed just sulk in the corner49. What is their most valued object? Are they sentimental? Is there something they have to take everywhere with them?she abandoned her material possessions before the story a. bc she was forced and b. they bring back way too many painful memories50. If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack? What do they consider their essentials? food, change of clothes, weapons. thats about it. she tries not to be super nasty and find an inn to shower and stuff but shes also poor af

[crowkingwrites]

The Dreadfort

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton x Reader

Summary: Ramsay, a high school outcast, has opened his historical mansion for a Halloween Haunt. Your boyfriend suggests you and your group of friends go, thinking nothing of it. Your best friend invites your frenemy who starts to flirt with your boyfriend. Maybe coming to the haunt was a mistake. Unbeknownst to you, Ramsay sees you’re unhappy and decides to give your unforgivable friends a ‘special’ experience.

Words: 3145

Read on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12518224

DISCLAIMERS:

1. The radio news audio is directly from the cancelled video game Silent Hills/ P.T. You can find the full script here (http://www.silenthillmemories.net/silent_hills/pt_script_en.htm) You can find the full audio of the radio here but I do warn you this is a walkthrough of the game (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-gbWxjzTYg) I do not own any part of Silent Hills. I love the radio news audio, so i wanted to put in this one shot.

2. Historical societies do actually put on real events to invite more people to get involved with local culture. I do urge you all to check out local events this Halloween. They're pretty cool! Some ideas include visiting graveyard tours and going to historical houses for readings of Poe/Shelley/other Halloween-related authors.

Wednesday Morning: Westeros High School, Your Locker, 7:45AM

“13.28.10,” you mumbled to yourself. The lock clicked in your hand. You locker opened to reveal your books, notebooks, and an array of pictures of your friends. You smiled at the picture of you and your boyfriend together. A tap on your shoulder made you turn around.

“Hey babe,” your boyfriend smiled at you. You kissed him hello.

“Good morning to you too,” you smiled.

“Is it cool if I borrow a couple of bucks from you? I forgot my lunch today,” he gave you a puppy-dog face.

“No, it’s not,” you shot him a look. “I just gave you twenty bucks yesterday ‘for lunch’. What happened to that?” Your boyfriend threw his hands up.

“Alright you caught me, I’m smoking a shit ton of pot,” he laughed.

“That’s not funny,” out of the corner of your eye you saw Ramsay Bolton walk up to the both of you.

“What do you want, creep?” your boyfriend said, snatching a paper from Ramsay’s hand. You looked at the orange flyer.

COME ONE, COME ALL TO THE DREADFORT BRING YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILIES BE THERE OR BE SCARED!

“You’re having a haunted house?” you asked Ramsay. “Isn’t your house an old mansion? Like its part of the historical society?” He lit up at your question.

“It is, but my stepmom and other people at the society thought it would good to open it up for guests for a night. Just to spread the word about the historical society, you know?” he smiled at you for a moment and then the smile faded when your boyfriend started to laugh.

“Seriously? A free home haunt? That’s so stupid,” he snorted. Two of your boyfriend’s friends showed up to the scene. “You guys! Check this out, school shooter wants us to come to his house to get scared!”

“That’s rude,” you scoffed at him. “Ramsay, I’m so sorry. We’ll be there, ok?” Ramsay gave you a half-smile and walked away.

“I bet it won’t be even be scary!” one of your boyfriend’s friends shouted after him. The other threw a paper ball aimed at Ramsay’s head. It missed, but you felt bad.

Wednesday Night: Your House, Your Bedroom, 9:05PM

You scrolled through Facebook a second time to see Ramsay’s Home Haunt ad again. Several people had liked it, loved it, and left either angry or excited comments on the picture. Your boyfriend was one of them.

‘First person to get evidence that he worships the devil gets 50 bucks from me! Maybe we should call in a priest huh?’

A lot of people left the ‘haha’ emoji reaction and you rolled your eyes. You heard a ding from your phone to see your friend, Michelle, had texted you.

Michelle: [Pls help me with English homework. Mr. Johnsen is killing me.]

You:[It’s not hard. Isn’t it obvious? Holden Caulfield is a phony.]

Michelle: [Lol! I haaate this guy. Speaking of emo dudes, did you see Ramsay’s ad??]

You: [I did! We should go!]

Michelle: [You’re kidding right? This is Ramsay Bolton we’re talking about.]

You: [Oh come on. He’s not gonna kill us all. Give the guy a break. He has one psychotic episode and everyone thinks he’s going to shoot up the school.]

Michelle:[He’s a creep…but I guess you have a point. It would pretty scary to go to a home of future serial killer lol]

You:[That’s SO mean lol. But we should still go. It’s a really old house. It could be haunted.]

Michelle: [That’s right! Holy shit!!!!! We’re definitely going now. I’ll start the thread. I’m inviting Chelsee.]

You felt your stomach sink. Chelsee was coming. Michelle had been your friend since the 4th grade, but when Chelsee moved in next door to Michelle, everything changed. You wanted to be friends with her so bad, but you could never shake the feeling that Chelsee hated you.

Michelle would always tell you that Chelsee had a funny way of showing her affection for her closest friends. However, when she spread a rumor about your period freshman year, it sure didn’t feel friendly. When you told Michelle, she didn’t believe you. ‘Chelsee says she didn’t do it, I believe her. You’re being paranoid.’

All Hallow’s Eve, The Dreadfort, Front Lawn, 9:56PM

The homes on the northern side of the city were usually a part of the Westerosi Historical Society. Their windows had thick curtains that always seemed to have someone watching you in between them. The dirt and grass sunk in sometimes, and the air always stinged with a chill.

You wore your favorite Halloween sweater that said “I am a Final Girl”. You matched it with a black skirt and tights. You thought you looked particularly adorable.

Your boyfriend held your hand as he and his friends started towards the Dreadfort. They weren’t dressed up in anything particular, but they had Halloween masks with red-stained shirts. That counted right? That’s when you saw her.

She wore a full-on playboy bunny costume. Her ears and corset were a bright-Barbie-classic pink. Her tail was round and fluffy. Her black tights hugged her thighs, and her heels clicked the street. Chelsee.

“Hey guys!” she waved flirtatiously.

“Hello Chels,” your boyfriend said slowly. His mouth almost dropping open like some perverted cartoon wolf. You let go of his hand and crossed your arms.

“Hi,” you greeted both Michelle and Chelsee. Chelsee went to the other side of your boyfriend and grabbed his arm.

“I’m gonna get so scared!” she squealed. “I hope you’ll protect me.”

“You know Max can protect you, right? He benches like 200,” you told her, pointing to one of your boyfriend’s friends behind you.

“It’s cool, babe,” your boyfriend waved you off. “I can protect everybody.” You rolled your eyes and the six of you walked towards the Dreadfort. It was built in the late 1890’s, so the exterior needed no décor. The windows had flashing lights inside, along with some caution tape around the property.

A line of people of all ages lined the front of the house and then some. You watched your classmates take selfies of themselves by the wood and metal ‘Dreadfort’ sign. The line moved steadily, but the wait seemed so long when Chelsee and your boyfriend couldn’t stop laughing with each other.

Soon you reached the front of the haunt, Michelle was taking selfies, Max and your boyfriend’s other friend were pushing each other around, and Chelsee and your boyfriend were flirting right there in front of you. Ramsay’s stepmom greeted your group.

“Hello dears!” Walda said. She wore a 19th century mourning gown. Your jaw nearly dropped.

“Oh my god! Your dress is beautiful!” you said to her excitedly. “Where did you get it?”

“I made it.”

“You made this?!” you exclaimed. You started to hear the snickering behind you. You should’ve known. You already heard the words come from his mouth. ‘She’s so fat! She looks like the fattest witch I’ve ever seen.’ You pretended to not listen.

Walda led your group inside the very first room of the haunt which was the porch. The front door had a hand extending out with a door ring. Chelsee grabbed your boyfriend’s arm again.

“Oh my god, this is so creepy!” she said, making sure to get as close as she could to him.

“We’re not even inside yet, baby,” he responded.

“Baby?” you asked him. “Really? Seriously?”

“Oh come on, I’m just playing. We’re playing right Chels?” he elbowed her back.

“Yeah, don’t get your panties in a twist, Y/N,” she flipped her hair. You turned back and sighed. Your eyes found the porch. You saw the small holes and grooves in the wood. What you didn’t see was the small crack between the curtains with a pair of eyes watching you.

“Come on, we gotta get in position,” Grunt grunted.

“She’s not having a good time,” Ramsay noted. “It’s because of him. What a fucking ass.”

“What?” Grunt asked.

“Nothing,” Ramsay left and Grunt went to the front door for the first scare.

Walda received the sign your group is good to go. She instructed you to knock on the door three times. The door creaked open while classical music filled your ears. The piano seemed to be off, but you took in the same smell of death in the air.

“This is it?” Max says. “This is not—

Grunt comes up behind him and touches his shoulder. Max jumps high in the air and screams. He turns to see Grunt, smiling.

“Greeting guests,” Grunt says in his deep voice, towering over Max.

“You’re not supposed to touch me, dumbass,” Max argued, trying to cover up his fear. “That’s how haunted houses go. The actors can’t touch the guests.”

“Not here. The rules sign outside says we can,” he corrected him.

“The rules sign? What rules?” your boyfriend eyed him down. Grunt pointed to a front window where you saw a group of people reading a sign with rules on it. You put your hand on your mouth, trying to stifle a fit of laughter.

“When you entered your doom, you accepted that we can legally touch you,” Grunt explained. “Now, come, my master has been waiting for you.”

“No way, you can’t be serious!” Max argues.

“Shut up, Max,’ your boyfriend leads the way towards the dining room. A disgusting feast was lain out for you and your friends. Rotting fruit and bloodied meats leaked onto plates. Two maids reached inside their stomachs and presented you with spaghetti screaming, “Eat me! Eat me!”

Chelsee and Michelle shrieked and then laughed it off. Your boyfriend rolled his eyes and kept leading the way through. There was a narrow hallway with old creepy pictures lining the way. A door that said ‘Redrum’ in red caught your eye in particular. You reached for it, only to have a small toddler scream “Redrum! Redrum!” at you with a plastic knife in his hand.

You screamed, but laughed at yourself and the cute toddler who did his best to scare you. The toddler went back inside the closet and you waved goodbye to the little guy.

“This is so stupid,” you boyfriend said aloud. “You call this scary?” Suddenly, your boyfriend shook in place, took his hoodie off, and ran away from the wall.

“Dude the fuck?” Max asked.

“Something touched me! What the fuck?” your boyfriend shifted his eyes around. As you went through more of the rooms, things got creepier. Doors shut on their own. People followed and then unfollowed you.

You were having fun. You screamed and stared off in dark corners. Michelle grabbed you and both of you started to walk through together. Ramsay’s friends and family jumpscared and tricked you all in set ups and traps. Then you noticed your boyfriend and Chelsee holding each other.

“Get off of him,” you said to her. Michelle grabbed you.

“Y/N-

“Get off of him now,” you shouted, going towards Chelsee. She rolled her eyes at you. Michelle gripped you tighter. “Let me go!”

“Come on, it’s not worth it,” Michelle pleaded. You looked back at her to discover the tension in her body. Everyone fell silent.

“It’s happening isn’t it?” you said weakly, turning to your boyfriend. “You’ve been cheating on me. And everyone knows right?”

“Come on, Y/N,” your boyfriend reached out to you. You pushed it away.

“It’s the truth isn’t it?” you turned back to your best friend Michelle. She was looking down. “You knew. You knew all along didn’t you?” Michelle couldn’t meet your eyes. You felt hot tears at the corners of your eyes. Your knees shook as you took your sweater sleeve to wipe the streams away.

Behind the basement door, Ramsay watched the whole thing. You had always been so nice to him. This was wrong. This was painful to watch.

“Ben, remember what I told you if we thought some people weren’t going to enjoy themselves?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” Ben inquired, taking a look at the argument between you and your boyfriend and your friends. “I remember that plan. The Dread Game, right?” Ramsay nodded.

“You know what to do then,” Ramsay took one last look at you. He saw the tears coming down your face. “She deserves better.”

You descended down the stairs and into the dark area. You started to hear some radio audio that sounded a lot like the news.

‘We regret to report the murder of the wife and her two children by their husband and father. The father purchased the rifle used in the crime at his local gunstore two days earlier. This brutal killing took place while the family was gathered at home on a Sunday afternoon.’

You looked around the basement. Flayed bodies hung from the ceiling. One mechanical body shook as it was taking its last breaths. You heard the weak gasping and choking. The news continued.

‘The day of the crime, the father went to the trunk of his car, retrieved the rifle, and shot his wife as she was cleaning up the kitchen after lunch. When his ten-year-old son came to investigate the commotion, the father shot him, too. His six-year-old daughter had the good sense to hide in the bathroom, but reports suggest he lured her out by telling her it was just a game.’

You felt numb, but you had to continue. You were stuck in here with all of them. Chains moved to and fro, and you felt time slowing down. Red ‘x’s were everywhere. You started to hear saw noises. You couldn’t tell what was scarier, this basement or the horrific truth your friends kept from you.

Suddenly, you saw a pair of red converse shoes in front of you. Slowly, your eyes trailed up the body. Ripped jeans with bloodied knees, torn shirt, and a pair of pig eyes staring back into yours. You tried not to scream, but a hand over your mouth took care of that. The pig boy took you inside a hidden closet.

You struggled and moaned until the boy removed his mask. Ramsay put one finger to his mouth. Taking the hint, you nodded your head.

“Watch this,” he whispered. His mischievous smile disappearing as the pig persona took over. Chelsee screamed at the sight of him. Ramsay grabbed her by her hair and pulled her to the wall. He turned on a switch that let out pig squeals in her ear. Chelsee screamed out your now ex-boyfriend’s name. He ran to her, but was tripped by Ben Bones wearing a mask of a distorted smile and sunken eyes.

Ben took your ex and chained him to a cross. You looked to see Michelle screaming at Grunt who cornered her with a working circle saw. Max and your boyfriend’s other friend ran from the basement screaming. Two of Ramsay’s friends ran after them; their faces were falling off their heads. Your eyes went back to Chelsee who screamed and tried to get out of the pair of handcuffs.

“Holy fuck!” your ex screamed. You turned to see Ramsay with a working chainsaw. He ripped it and put it close to your ex’s head. He screamed, but then laughed. “You’re not actually gonna hurt me. You can’t touch me.”

Ramsay ripped off his mask. His sweat-covered hair and forehead shined in the one lightbulb moving to and fro between the boys. He slowly stalked your ex trapped on the cross.

“Or could I?” he taunted.

“No you wouldn’t,” your ex responded. Ramsay placed the chainsaw at your ex’s ankles.

“I don’t think you need to walk anymore,” Ramsay’s threat rolled off his tongue. You secretly enjoyed it. Your ex squirmed in place. Ramsay moved the chainsaw to your ex’s chest. “Or maybe I could cut your heart and keep it in a jar. I could give it away to Y/N.”

“You sick fuck!” Ramsay moved closer to your ex inches from his face.

“Get the girl,” Ramsay commanded. Ben Bones dragged Chelsee in front of your ex. Tears were coming down from her face, her makeup dripped and leaked.

“Leave her alone,” your ex warned.

“What are you going to do?” Ramsay laughed at him. “You’re tied up. I could do anything I wanted. And I do mean anything.” Ramsay took a flaying knife and cut his hand open. Blood trickled out, showing how truly sharp his blades were. He put the blade against your ex’s throat.

“Just let us go, man,” he begged.

“Tell me I’m a sick fuck again,” Ramsay said to him. Your ex mumbled. “Say it again!” Ramsay screamed in his face.

“You’re a sick fuck! Let us go!” your ex screamed. You swore you saw a little pee come out of him. Ramsay laughed and then took his bloody hand and wiped it across your ex’s face, leaving a smear of blood on him. Ben and Grunt untied the girls and let them go. Chelsee struggled to run in her heels.

Ramsay unchained your ex and pushed him against the wall. His right hand on his throat. “Do me a favor, don’t talk to Y/N ever again. If you so much as breathe a word to her, I’ll put your dick in jar.” He dropped your ex to the ground. He made a large thud, and then ran out of the basement, following the girls.

You exited the hidden closet, looking around you. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah?” Ramsay said, smiling. “Was it good enough? Did you like it?” You went to hug Ramsay, wrapping your arms around him.

“Thank you,” you said. You both heard knocking.

“That’s the next group, come here,” Ramsay took your hand and escorted you out of the basement. The air outside was cold and crisp. “Y/N, if you take a left here, there’s a guest house. If you go in there, my stepmom will be in there with my little brother. She has cookies. You know, in case you didn’t want to go home with them.”

“That’s really nice of you to offer,” you looked to the left and started walking. Your feet paused and then turn back to Ramsay. “Can I have your phone?”

Ramsay shrugged and gave it to you. You type in your contact information and hand it back to him. He looked at his new addition to his phone and back to you. “What’s this?”

“My number,” you replied.

“Why would you—

You interrupted him by kissing him on the cheek. Ramsay blinked twice and looked at you for some explanation. “I’m single now, I guess,” you started. “Besides, I think I might like dangerous boys.”

Ramsay smiled at you before going back inside the basement. You could already hear some of your classmates screaming bloody murder. “Well then, you may have found the best one.” Ramsay winked and closed the basement door.

[onlyjihoons]

collegebf!jihoon

a/n; congrats to jihoon for being accepted into uni;-;-; and btw pls pardon the mb that was the closest thing i could find to college jihoon in my laptop

masterlist// requests are open

major: theatre/acting

wanted to take up aerospace technology, but decided to go for his real passion instead

got in through rolling admission, didnt have to face the stress of college entrance examinations

however a very talented actor, able to shed tears in 30 seconds

havent had his first kiss despite acting since five,, and people are shook lol

has looks crafted by the acting gods, visuals made for acting

able to pull off both bad roles and good roles

honestly very friendly and humble young actor, seniors are certain he will make it big in the industry one day

will greet classmates and lecturers good morning and bid them goodbye

lowkey enjoys classics like romeo and juliet, lord of the flies, julius caesar, animal farm 

does well in the prose section in tests because he reads widely 

actually a well all-rounded student, perfect 4.0 gpa in every semester

took up ballet in high school oops and hence knows every scene in ballet classics like sleeping beauty

sings and raps decently, a good dancer too,, a literal golden child lol

but below the perfect boy surface,, jihoon is an avid gamer who always occasionally stays up till the wee wee hours of the night to play games

like overwatch sorry guys that’s the only game i know

sometimes will arrive to class late, hair in a mess and last night’s pyjamas 

but at the end of the day he does well in everything without even trying so the lecturers just let him be

you didn’t even know why you took up theatre,, maybe its because you scored an A in literature during your college entrance exams

communications was too controversial for you anyway

you had zero to little acting experience, the only experience you had was pretending to be sick in school

like jihoon, for the prose section of tests you would score full marks most of the time

but drama section was your pitfall

not that you couldn’t act, but you had a fear of being on camera

selfies with friends are fine, but you just don’t like your pictures being taken in general

one day, your lecturer gave out an assignment, apparently it’s paired work and your partner has already been chosen beforehand

you liked pair work, and honestly one of the only ways you can pull up your grades for the drama section

once you received your assignment, you read the name below yours in bolded itallic,

park jihoon

you sighed, you were afraid of being a burden to the golden student, since he already has secured his own distinction anyway

you were acquaintances with jihoon, but not that close to be friends either

“y/n!” jihoon settled into his seat beside you, “i’m glad we are partners, at least you won’t be like some of the girls in this class…”

you smiled weakly, thankful that he didn’t have a bad impression of you already, “what about them?”

“they always wanted to add a kiss scene in the plot, just to kiss me, its just, ugh.” this was the first time you’ve seen jihoon getting annoyed, and you found it cute honestly

“that’s gross, but don’t worry, i wont make you kiss me, i don’t think you’d want to either.” you patted his back, and you swore that you saw a tinge of hurt in jihoon’s eyes momentarily 

“thanks y/n.”

for the first 2 days, you and jihoon practically breezed through the prose section, sharing your favourite scenes of the classics

“romeo and juliet was a good ending”

“no, they should’ve ran away with each other”

despite conflicting ideas the both of you worked well together and became much closer than before

at first you thought jihoon was a little bit of a tsundere, but the more you knew him, the more goofy he seemed

like how he liked penguins, and has a few penguin stuffed toys on his bed

and you also learnt that jihoon used to do classical ballet in high school, which was lowkey a surprise for you

then came the drama section, the both of you decided on romeo and juliet

wow im so basic sorry guys

you didn’t force jihoon to kiss you too, so the both of you just settled with jihoon putting his thumb in between the both of your lips

or almost kissing

bahbam y’all “kissed”

jihoon told you it was a method actors use so that they don’t really kiss the actress,, and he pulled out that card for all of the girls who wanted to kiss him lol

he even was super sweet about the whole thing, asking if you were uncomfortable and stuff

you always said you wouldn’t but your heart would race whenever he did a tiny bit of skinship like hugging or holding your hand

ultimately, it was just for the grades, right?

wrong.

jihoon had the biggest crush on you ever since the both of you were in the same class

he was just scared of approaching you, scared that you would think he’s trying to get into your good books

so he was really excited when the lecturer announced that you were his partner

and when you said “i don’t think you’d want to either” to the kiss he was lowkey slumped bc it meant to him that you thought of jihoon as a normal friend and not something more

so on the day of the drama showcase, jihoon could sense your nervousness

usually you were ok but today you werent

“what’s up y/n? are you not feeling well?”

“i have a phobia of being on camera,” you wrung your hands together, “sorry jihoon, i’m bringing down our grades–”

“no, y/n, look at me.” jihoon made you face him, his features gleaming under the light, “we’ll overcome this together. i promise.”

“how?”

jihoon then swooped down and kissed your lips, which definitely took you aback

“w-what”

“just imagine the camera isn’t there, and there is no one in the classroom except us.” jihoon smiled, as if the kiss didnt happen

you were definitely calmer than before, weirdly, and nodded.

when it was you and jihoon’s turn, he gave your hand a small squeeze 

it went pretty smoothly, with no camera-fright for the first time

until the kiss scene, jihoon actually kissed you for real

and the whole class was shooketh bc park jihoon,, kissing a girl for the first time?? wowzers

in the end, both of you got your As and you got yourself a boyfriend out of it too

honestly jihoon is more of a homebody than you think

he would want to stay at home rather than go out on dates

so he would invite you over to his dorm, to watch movies or just cook for him lol

sometimes he would ask you to play games with him too, but you’d fail

he would be somewhat addicted to his games too, so you have to get through all means and ways to get his attention back on his work

dont be surprised if he calls you at like 3am telling you hes hungry

and you only read it the next morning

“did you see the message i sent you?”

“no…?”

“i sent it at 3am and it said 2 ticks…”

“you’re gaming again?? YAH PARK JIHOON”

“hahaHAHAHHAHAHAHAH yes im sorry babe please forgive me:

has his designated seat beside you in every class

sometimes the lecturer has to call him out for being too clingy to you and its embarrassing when everyone just has their attention on the both of you

save this clingy baby please

will help you hold your notes,, and sometimes clean up with you at your dorm or home

your mother loves him already even tho she only met him through facetime

likes to go to find all the ramen stores in the vicinity and try all of them out

also likes taking pictures of you when you dont notice

and sets it as his kkt bg

your contact in his phone is saved as baby girl💓💕💖💗💘💞

and his contact saved on your phone is baby boy❤💙💚💛💜

you know those boyfriends who treat their girlfriend like theyre their entire universe? yup thats jihoon

and like his eyes light up whenever he talks about you its just so endearing

likes to be the big spoon when cuddling just so he can engulf you in his arms

hardly gets mad but even if he does its not that serious and over something stupid like him losing his notes or something

jihoon knows where to draw the line, when you need to study he tries not to disrupt you

keyword: tries

overall, a clingy but sweet koala as your bf, you could never ask for more

[youhadmeathohoho]

Does this movie have a good name?

Finding Santa is an acceptable name for a movie in which a lady seeks a Santa impersonator to appear at her town’s 50th Annual Christmas Parade.

Are we located in a small, picturesque, snow-covered town?

Yes, yes and yes. The town in question being ‘Green River’ in Connecticut. Where children roam the streets clutching candy canes!

Is the lead character’s name festive?

Her name is Grace Long. Grace is, I suppose, a festive name in that it relates to Christianity. But the surname Long is useless for our purposes, and I propose that this character ought instead to have been called Grace Bauble.

(But in better news, the wife of the town’s regular Santa impersonator is named Holly! Ding ding ding WE HAVE A HOLLY!!!)

How busy is said lady?

Grace is pretty busy running a year-round “holiday store”, which belonged to her dead parents:

Owning the store also means organising Green River’s aforementioned 50th Annual Christmas Parade, from which a morning TV news show will be broadcasting this year. Things get even more hectic when Tom, the usual Santa impersonator, slips on some ice one week before the parade and then his arm hurts and he can’t be in the parade any more!

Meanwhile, Grace would rather be spending her days painting, but due to dead parents she has had to commit herself to the holiday store and the Santa wrangling, and has cast aside her arty feelings. For now.

How are everyone’s Christmas Spirit levels?

It’s quite controversial actually. There seems to be a moral that parents who are Festive Fanatics should not pressure their offspring into being similarly zealous.

See, Grace is forced to live and breathe Christmas at the holiday store, and isn’t really feeling it anymore. “Somewhere along the way, Christmas just became a job”, she laments. It’s quite confusing because apparently the problem with her last boyfriend is that he wasn’t sufficiently passionate about Christmas. So I guess Grace’s Christmas Spirit levels are naturally high, but currently drained.

Her love interest, Ben, was trained at his dad's Santa School but he decided that -

WAIT

Did i just write ‘Santa School’?

Hell yes I did!

Yep, Green River HAS A SANTA SCHOOL. BUT. WE. BARELY. SEE. IT.

Can I gently suggest, dear Hallmark, that you make a spin-off movie about the Santa School next year? Because that’s a movie I’d watch. (What’s that you say? I watch all the Hallmark Christmas movies anyway? Hmm. Yeah, you’ve got me there. But, I mean, even NORMAL people who are not me might be inclined to check out a Santa School-centric movie. MAKE IT HALLMARK HEAD HONCHOS I BEG YOU.)

OK anyway, so Ben was trained at his dad's Santa School but he decided that feigning St. Nick was not his true calling, and so instead of taking over the school, he moved away to Big Bad Boston to become a writer / Uber driver. And Grace has to go kidnap him and convince him to stand in at the Christmas parade for his dad. We’re supposed to tut at Ben for being such a killjoy because he doesn’t want to pursue a life as a professional Kriss Kringle - but what kind of life would that have been exactly? December probably keeps one busy, sure. But what happens for the other 11 months? And what do the ladies make of a guy whose job is to have a belly that shakes when he laughs like a bowl full of jelly? ALL THIS AND MORE WILL BE REVEALED IN SECRET SANTA SCHOOL, COMING TO HALLMARK IN 2018, UNLESS NOBODY LISTENS TO ME. 

Does anything magical or supernatural happen?

Grace and Ben end up on a road trip when she forces him to come back to Green Rivers. Then a snowstorm descends so they have to stay with some random friends of Grace’s en route. These friends live in the most extraordinarily large and lavish house / ski lodge. It is unearthly in its sumptuousness!

Does a misunderstanding threaten the lady’s path to Happy Ever After with the man?

Yes! Eventually, Ben comes around and agrees to be the parade’s Santa, but then there is a horrible case of Bad-At-Overhearing during which he thinks Grace is only pretending to be into him because she needs to find a Santa. Oh no!

Is this movie bang on trend?

Ben works as an Uber driver. You think they’re not going to say ‘Uber’, but then they do!

People in the town are really into getting ‘Selfies With Santa’.

Grace and Ben both use the internet to find information about each other:

Any missed opportunities?

Clint.

Let me talk to you about Clint.

Clint is the son of the town’s mayor, and although he’s presumably 20-something, he acts like a spoiled hipster toddler:

With Ben AWOL, Clint weasels his way into being the replacement Santa but he sucks, and when Tom tries to teach him how to suck less, Clint can’t say ‘Ho Ho Ho’ with even a smidge of authority. It’s genuinely funny and there could have been way more of Clint.

Does anyone make a good face?

Totally!

Best dialogue?

“My mom’s the mayor!”

On reflection, is this movie about Christmas?

Yes. The only thing more Christmassy would be a movie about Santa School.

Overall rating?