#but considering how fucked up i actually have been the past eight months especially it’s like No No there’s something going on

[omgrandomwords]

ok so i’m incapable of keeping literally anything to myself but i am feeling very emotional abt this so

[nerdraging4point0]

November Moon

CW: 18+, oral sex male receiving, language, dirty talk, oral sex female receiving, PIV, protected sex. Exhibitionism, partner sharing.

Authors note: @tearfallpixie and I had .... thoughts.....conversations. It wasn't what I had in mind but as I wrote it, something took on a mind of its own. She was kind enough to offer one of her OC characters to the story. I have been in a rut for a few weeks now, so this is the first thing that has actually reached the finished stages. Enjoy

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 Rick came out of the kitchen a large bowl in each hand filled to the brim with popcorn. He was nothing if not predictable. He set the bowls down on his new extra-large coffee table-a rustic French farmhouse type made of birch wood that looked weathered-it wasn’t his usual style, but he picked it up because one it fit the length he wanted and two he liked the way she looked at it. They hadn’t been together long before Rick had asked Anya to move in with him, he had never been so sure of something in his life.

Horror, the cute pup he had adopted just the year before jumped onto the couch, his tail thumping on the fabric tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. There was a full table of drinks and snacks that Rick and Anya picked up from the store earlier and a couple bags of burgers and fries with milkshakes included from Five Guys. If Rick knew his friend it would be to order Five Guys for dinner, especially when he was about to propose something that could be considered completely insane.

Just a few weeks ago he’d come home from a long tour, finally set to be home for a full eight months, ready for some much-needed rest and relaxation. Yeah right. Rick knew better than to have any kind of relaxation, after he’d properly welcomed himself home to Anya and their pup, he’d immediately started working on his film projects. She had been talking to him from the couch in his office, slumped over his laptop clicking away at videos as he edited them, giving her an occasional ‘uh huh’ ‘really’ or even a ‘hmm’ all things to make it seem like he heard her.

"You know what would be hot?"

"Hmm?" The guitarist hummed quietly, not lifting his eyes from his computer.

"If we had a foursome with Vinny and Dana."

"Wait what?!" Rick exclaimed, turning in his chair to face her. After a long period of silence, he’d waited for her to say more but when she didn’t, he had to process what she’d said. His brain took the suggestion, fumbled it around amongst the other thoughts currently occupying its space, until figuratively tossing everything from its desk inside his head to focus on the idea she proposed.  

"What? Vinny and Dana are hot as fuck. And don't think I don't know you and Vin have fooled around before. It's so obvious." Rick sputtered as he processed her words. Seeing her raise an eyebrow at him, realizing his darkest secret had been found out. He sat back further in his chair eyes darting to the ceiling as he thought the idea through.

“Oh my GOD!” She squealed pulling herself to the edge of her seat on the couch “I was only joking; I wanted your attention you perv!” They had put the idea aside for a while talking again about idle things this time with Rick’s attention on her. But he’d be lying if his mind was drifting back to the earlier topic.

He couldn’t deny that the thought of seeing his best friend and girl get it on wasn't intriguing. Not only that, but he found Vins girl appealing. Anya and Dana were like night and day. Dana was shorter in stature, standing only at 5’2 long sandy brown hair, light skin tone, and eyes that he couldn’t determine were either green or blue. He imagined how her soft curves might feel under his hands, if she’d groan at his touch like Anya did or whine. Anastasia was 5’6 dark brown hair just past her shoulders, deep green eyes and a full sleeve of white roses on her right arm, the spaces between the leaves blacked out. She was athletically built, the muscles from her years of sports softened under her skin leaving her with a relaxed toned look.

Anya was his spitfire spastic girl, she could talk for hours if the subject intrigued her, and there were a lot of subjects like that. She was never not at a loss for words on any given subject, always wanting to learn and express herself. Outsiders might think they were arguing with how they spoke to each other during their debates, but it was all understood, they were communicating on a different level.

While on tour Vin and Rick had stayed up later than the rest of the band and crew, just talking about their girls back home. The girls had gotten close, so closely bonded they weren’t above holding hands and kissing each other on the lips occasionally. They had gotten so deep in conversation that night Vin started to talk about his sex life with Dana, while he never discussed much with anyone else in the band and crew, he and Rick had a mutual understanding to share everything with one another.

Rick had expected Dana to be shy and innocent, inexperienced, somehow the thought of having to break her and teach her a lesson made his sex throb with anticipation. But when he heard how dark she could be for Vin he was surprised. The way Vin described her she was mouthy, sassy even. Rick liked that. The idea that he could still break her gave him some satisfaction.

The couple walked through the door of Rick’s house, greeted eagerly by Horror, Dana seemed to take great interest in petting the pup’s belly while Vin made a quick bee line for the food on the table. Anya caught her friend in a hug, bringing her in by the waist to the couch. Dana had chosen a simple pair of leggings and hoodie to wear tonight. Although she matched in all black with her boyfriend, Rick couldn’t help but feel cheated, what could she possibly be hiding under there?

He'd never seen Dana wear anything outside of leggings, sweatpants, hoodies, and the occasional pair of jeans. Anya said it was something about being self-conscious around a lot of people. What could she have to be self-conscious about? He’d seen some of the photos on Vin’s phone. Not on purpose, anything that had to do with Dana and Vin was all found out by accident. He either happened to be looking that way just at the right time or Vin was scrolling through his phone passing by a saved photo of her pausing only for a minute before continuing through his gallery. Rick just always acted like he didn’t see it.

Vin didn’t know it but a few nights after that conversation Rick had gotten up in the middle of the night making his way to the bathroom for a late-night piss, on his way back to his bunk he could hear the private conversation between Vin and Dana. Vin seemed to think everyone was asleep and opted for no headphones, in whatever way, to the universe or deity of some kind he thanked him for the absentminded mistake.

She was moaning on the other end, giving a sexy giggle, maybe in response to Vin’s reaction.

“Sugar, come on don’t tease me.” He whined, his voice climbing higher than a whisper.

“What are you gonna do? Make me?”

Rick had to suppress the growl in his throat. Oh, he’d make her alright. Miles away or not, he’d have her follow his every direction without hesitation.

They watched a movie together, eating and making small talk. But it seemed that no matter how much he tried to bring up the subject he just couldn’t get the words to come out of his mouth. I guess it was a good thing his girlfriend was better at breaking the ice than he was. He wasn’t sure what she’d said, or how she had said it, but when Rick looked over in the dark living room toward the girls, they were practically in each other’s laps hands wrapping around each other, lips locked. He tapped his friend’s thigh unable to tear away from the scene in front of him, the sudden thud of Vin’s phone on the floor was confirmation he was seeing the same thing.

It wasn’t much to convince them to take everything back to Rick’s room. He’d lead them down the hall and into the master bedroom tearing Anya’s top and bra from her body the minute she was inside their door. He held Anya against his chest, her breasts in each of his hands, kneading the flesh and pulling at her nipples while he kissed the exposed skin of her neck, cheek and shoulder. He heard a sound that made his eyes fly open and search for the source.

Across the room Vin had his girl in his arms teeth sinking into the flesh at her neck, Dana’s mouth dropped open and her nails digging into Vin’s shoulder, a look of pure ecstasy on her face. Rick drank in the sight looking her over, her pale skin was completely exposed her hoodie, shirt, and bra had been discarded and he could see her breasts pressed into Vin’s chest.

God damn she was beautiful.

“Fuck, Vin. That’s what you’ve been hiding from us?” It had been a comment Rick wanted to utter more times than one after seeing photos of her but knew better than to do it. Now he had no reason not to.

Dana’s cheeks went pink when her eyes opened landing on Rick’s from across the room. So sweet. She was still so shy. Rick wanted to taste her, he wanted to make her come first. The way Vin was playing with her, it was driving Rick insane. Like a kid on the playground who wanted his turn with the new toy, he seemed to be losing his patience.

“Think Vin would let me suck his cock?” Anya’s breathy voice was at Rick’s ear, her soft moans between words making his cock twitch.

“I don’t know,” he drawled “Why don’t you go over there and find out.”

Anya crossed the floor quickly, pulling herself between Vin and Dana, giving Dana a soft kiss on the lips before turning to face Vin. Her eyes focused on him as she dropped to her knees fingers already working the button of his cargo pants.

Dana stepped back, giving her friend room, her arms crossing over her chest as she pulled her thumb nail between her teeth. She was distracted, not paying any attention to Rick as he crossed the room coming up slowly behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist letting his chin rest on her shoulder as he pulled her into him his cock sliding between the cheeks of her ass. She tightened in his grip going stiff.

“Shhh.” He whispered letting his lips trail soft kisses from her shoulder to the bend of her neck. “Since he’s a little occupied. Let me take care of you.”

He spun her in his arms making her face him he squatted down grabbing her thighs and hoisting her up to wrap her legs around his waist. Rick climbed onto the bed, letting her back fall softly into the black duvet. He kept his eyes on hers, taking in the beautiful glassy green color as he watched her pupils dilate and shrink with every move of his hands over her body.

“Would you let me eat you? I’m sure Vin does it a lot.” Ricks fingers were already teasing the hem of her leggings, waiting for the approval before tearing them down her thighs. He watched as she covered her body with her arms, hands making a tent over her mouth and nose while her cheeks turned that adorable pink color.

“Why do you think I call her sugar?” Vin teased moaning when Anya giggled, his cock still down her throat.

“You have to say yes.” Rick gave her an encouraging look, or maybe he was pleading, he wasn’t really sure what expression his face was making at this point. Whatever he’d done made her nod her head slowly, he understood the hesitation and although he wanted to tear her clothes off and bury himself between her thighs, he felt he should treat her a little more delicately. Pulling the clothes from her body he looked back up to see she had completely covered her face. He crawled up her body taking her wrists in his hands as he pulled her away to look in her eyes.

“No need to hide. I’ve seen it all already and trust me, you are beautiful.” Her face went completely red but as Rick made his way down her torso, she didn’t bring her hands up to hide again. Opening her thighs she parted them easily for him, letting him find his way between them as he licked a stripe between her folds the intoxicating taste of her burst through his mouth, he groaned wanting more but having to hold himself back from devouring her. “I see why he calls you sugar, you do taste sweet.”

Fingers pressing her open he lapped at her clit listening to the pleased sounds she made as he found the spot, she liked the most. Her hips rocked into his face, and he grabbed her thighs in order to brace himself for the moment she came on his tongue. She moaned, the dirty words falling out of her mouth all that Ricks’ ears hoped they would be.

Shuffling, the tear of a foil packet, a sudden keen from Anya and the sound of skin on skin meant Vin had taken it upon himself to move his moment along. They hadn’t discussed how it would all make them feel, but then again, Vin didn’t have much emotion when he was horny. Rick liked to think things through even now, he could feel the pang in his chest that someone else had his girl, but the knowledge that she was always his softened the blow.

Dana’s hands tangled into Ricks hair desperate to pull him off her as her body started to shake and seize from her orgasm. He continued to hold her clit between his lips, letting his tongue flick along the edge as she spasmed against his face. When he opened his eyes and looked up at her, she was flat against the bed panting, her breasts rising and falling with her deep breathing. Some of the muscles in her thighs and arms were shaking from what he’d just done to her. The pride in swelling in his chest.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

“Vin.” He looked to his friend who had Anya bent over the side of the bed taking her from behind. Vin’s green eyes looked up from under his lashes, the red streaks falling over his face. “Toss me one.”

The drummer groaned as he pulled out of Anya, she whined at the loss of him, Vin spinning around to slap her ass before digging through the drawer of the nightstand. He tossed the purple foil to Rick, catching it mid air he ripped it open sliding it down his length before bracing himself at her entrance. He wanted to go easy, maybe take his time, but if Vin finished soon, it would just be awkward for the whole room.

He bottomed out watching as she folded herself up arm latching around Ricks neck. He moved his hips immediately filling her up quickly and starting a pace that was sure to give her another orgasm. She moaned, keened and whined in his ear. The sounds making his brain fill with fog. She fits him so easily, her walls parting for him only to tighten around as he withdraws. She is just as soft as he imagined she’d be, fingers tracing the scars of her stretched skin, stripes that were no doubt earned and should be appreciated.

Under his touch she trembles, but then relaxes as he strokes her back, he can feel her shake every time he thrusts deep inside her. She is close and he knows it. The familiar shrieks from Anya tell Rick she’s enjoying herself. He was sure he’d have time to take Anya too, his ego telling him he had the stamina for it all. But as reality sank in it was evident, he wouldn’t. He felt in his lower belly that he was close, she was clenching harder around him, feeling her walls coat him with her slick his own body trembling.

“Fuck Rick.” She moaned in his ear as her arms clutched to him tight the orgasm breaking her. He couldn’t hold out anymore. Getting a hard grip on her body he thrust into her several more times before he moaned her name as he came.

The chorus of the four of them breathing heavily, smacking their lips from their mouths running dry was all the room could hear. The heady smell of musk and body fluid assaulting their sense of smell. Vin withdrew from Anya pulling the condom off quick and discarding it. Anya didn’t seem to notice him either walking around the bed to her drawers looking for underwear and something to wear.

Rick pulled out of Dana quickly making his way off the bed and tossing the condom away. He pushed the windows open behind his bed letting the cool night air waft the smell from the room. Anya’s warm hands wrapped around his waist, holding one of his t shirts and clean boxers in them. He took the clothes from her grip, bringing one of her hands to his lips before placing a chaste kiss on the back.

He slipped the clothes on seeing Vin help Dana into his sweatshirt, he was still naked, but after making sure his girl was dressed, they cuddled under the blankets.

“I told them they can sleep here tonight.” Anya stood up on her tiptoes to give Rick a kiss on his cheek.

“And where will we sleep?”

“In the bed silly. Where else?” she giggled crawling into the bed and settling next to her friend. Rick was too physically tired to care who slept in what bed. While the idea of a foursome wasn’t exactly what he’d imagined, it wasn’t a waste of time either. Now that the ice had been broken maybe there was just a little room to have more.

She woke to the faint sound of moaning.

The chill in the room made her shiver under the sweatshirt Vin had given her last night, she rolled into him seeking the warmth of his body. The window he’d opened was left that way all night, the late November air making the room go chill. Settling into Vin’s chest he was fast asleep, his arms not even moving to hold her, shivering as she pulled the blankets up over her nose. She tried hard to go back to sleep, squeezing her eyes shut as if that would force them to stay closed and bring sleep on faster.

Another soft moan carried through the room, and she realized that it wasn’t the sounds of her dreams from last night anymore. Turning slowly in the bed she saw Rick and Anya over her shoulder. Rick had Anya’s back pressed firmly into his chest, his hips rocking into her from behind, one ink clad hand wrapped around her waist disappearing between her thighs his fingers moving in and out of her sex with slow strokes. Anya had her head tipped back, hands wrapped around Rick’s head as he kissed into the bend of her neck, eyes were held shut pulling her lip between her teeth to suppress more of her moans. Rick’s grey eyes met hers from across the bed, they held the stare for only a few seconds before he gave her a wink and a seductive smirk. Pressing his lips once again to the neck of his girl. She turned back into Vin, not shy about what she saw, but disappointed that her boyfriend wasn’t awake to join in the fun.

She snuggled into Vin’s chest more drinking in the smell of his cologne, the fragrance still potent even though he’d applied it yesterday morning. She was close enough to hear his heart beating in his chest, the steady rhythm drowning out the sound of the couple next to her. Vin shifted in the bed allowing her to sink deeper into his bare chest.

“You to huh?” his gravely morning voice made heat pool into the space between her thighs. She was very pleased with herself that all she was wearing was his sweatshirt and panties from the night before. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth before she nodded her head. “Turn around then.”

She rolled to her other side making sure her ass rolled over him in a suggestive way. He groaned when she rolled over his cock, realizing quickly that he hadn’t dressed himself after their games last night. He kept his eyes closed, hand taking her hip and pulling her close to him. She glanced over at Rick and Anya, he seemed to have lost patience with only his fingers. Anya was pressed firmly on her belly into the bed one of Ricks’ hands tangled in her hair holding her head up off the mattress, his other had both her wrists clasped firmly into her lower back. Rocking his hips into her from behind, his black hair was already falling in his face lips parted breathing getting heavy. The sight turned her on to watch and when Vin started to rock his hips into her from behind slowly grinding himself against her ass, she let out a whimper Anya’s eyes only opening a little to look her friends way before giving her a satisfied smile.

Suddenly the chill from earlier was gone, the room filling up with a sudden heat she couldn’t explain. She pushed the blankets down and off her with her feet trying to cool her already sweaty skin. Vin’s fingernails were digging into the flesh of her thigh as he pulled her closer to him, continuing to grind against her. She was soaking through her panties as Vin would move her the friction of the material clothing her sex gave just enough friction to stimulate, but not enough that she’d be able to come. She wanted more. He was hard the feel of him pressing into her cheeks erotic the length not giving from the pressure of her on him.

He suddenly stopped fingers frantically trying to find the edge of her panties to bring them down her legs. She rolled onto her back grabbing the sides and pulling them down to toss the wet garment somewhere. Vin rolled onto his back motioning for her to come to him, she straddled his lap her knee barely coming to rest next to his hip before he pulled her down into a needy kiss. Her mouth distracted he lined up, pushing himself between her folds before bottoming out with no hesitation. She squealed into the kiss letting his tongue push past the barrier and into her mouth. He already had a grip on the sides of her hips rocking her over his length pulling her up before bringing her back down. They had barely started, and she was already about to burst.

Pulling herself out of his mouth she sat up grasping his thigh and bracing herself on the soft of his abdomen before she rocked herself back and forth, letting him fill her completely. While she rolled her head back she let her eyes wander over to their friends. Anya had her lip in her mouth teeth bearing down into the skin it was turning white, her forehead was sticky with sweat and her eyes were shut tight. Rick’s grey orbs looking directly at Dana. He had a feral look in his eye and it only made the coil in her belly tighten, watching him fuck Anya with sharp snaps of his hips was a show. She looked down at Vin who beneath her was arching his back Adams apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed before letting his mouth fall open again with his heavy breathing. She was so close, her rhythm stalling, feeling like she couldn’t continue. He sat up with her, head placed into her chest, he let his hands roam up the sweatshirt she was wearing fingers running along her spine and over her skin.

“Gonna come for me, sugar?” She wrapped her arms around his neck letting her fingers lace through his messy curls. Her hips moved faster as he spoke, driving herself to a quick release, beyond speech she only nodded her head. She looked over to Rick whose own hips started to falter, his eyes still on her, she threw her head back watching as he stilled in his movements spilling into Anya with a loud groan. It put Dana over the edge, clenching hard around Vin’s cock she squeezed his hair as her body shook with her orgasm. He wasn’t far behind her, taking her hips in his hands and slamming her down on him one more time before she could feel the warmth of his release inside her.

They fell back on the bed, her ear pressed against his chest to hear his heart thudding loudly. As they caught their breath, she heard the couple next to them whispering softly to one another, followed by a comfortable silence. The serenity of the moment lost when Vin cried out to the room,

"I'm hungry."

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Dream - Chapter Nineteen.

Woah... So this chapter got away from me a little in the word count, a nice, long update to finish the week off with for you all, besties! Thank you so much to my usual little group who so tirelessly comment and reblog, you are beautiful people. Big love :)

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen  Fourteen  Fifteen  Sixteen  Seventeen  Eighteen

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed (note: those not engaging will be automatically removed from the tag list, FYI)

Words - 3,852 

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Oh man, I got the whole team assembled here!” Angel exclaimed, a week on from Keri’s visit to him, arriving in Provo to have four girls all run at him. “How y’all doing?” He greeted Rachel, Frankie and Jaime with a kiss, reserving the hugest one for Keri, looking up to notice a middle-aged man eyeing the scene with curiosity. “Yeah, dude. All four of ‘em. All mine. I’m fucking exhausted!”  

He had them in hysterics, the man just shaking his head as he laughed and carried on, Angel and his little female entourage leaving the airport, all ready to drive right on up to the slopes for a day of snowboarding. He’d managed to get an early Friday morning flight, so they arrived at just gone 8am, everywhere still pretty quiet.

“Easy with those,” Keri advised, Angel diving right into a bag of his favourite chocolates, all the misshapes from the store that the staff got for less than half price. “That’s my last bag now I’ve left.”

“Oh, you actually did it?” he exclaimed through a mouthful of dark chocolate covered cinder toffee, referring to the fact Keri had revealed she was strongly considering quitting her part-time job at the chocolatier. “I thought you were only contemplating it last week.”

“I was,” she hummed, tying her boots on a little tighter, Angel wrapping up the chocolates again and placing them back into the front of her car. “But it made sense with all the work I have on, especially since wanting to keep my weekends free to see you means I’d have to indefinitely swap all my shifts to weeknight ones. Plus, I’d have been leaving anyway in just over a month when I finish up at college.”  

“Yeah, that makes sense. And hey, if you need anything, cash wise? I gotchu, mamas,” he vouched, closing the car door and kissing her forehead.

“Angel, I don’t want to mooch off of you, it’s fine,” she protested lightly, although she did think it very sweet of him to offer.  

“I will!” Rachel called after overhearing. “I’ll mooch!”  

“Oh, you will, huh?” Angel laughed. “And what do I get in return huh, red?”  

She smiled sultrily, beginning to undo her jacket, Angel’s eyebrows rising as she grabbed either side, about to reveal her cleavage before swiftly shutting it again. “Nah, not today!”

“Rachel, you have no commitment!” Frankie shouted, striding around and quickly checking her surroundings for other people before unzipping her jacket, grabbing her sweater, and promptly flashing Angel.  

“Woah, pierced nipple titties, and it ain’t even 9am yet. Happy Friday to me!” he laughed, Frankie grinning as she adjusted her clothes again, the three girls shrieking with laughter at her antics.

“And you have no shame!” Jaime cried, shaking her head.

“Doesn’t matter!” Frankie chirped. “I’m gay, it doesn’t count!”

“Yeah, but I ain’t,” Angel grinned, snapping his teeth at her. Keri was in hysterics, even more so when Frankie held out her hand towards him.  

“Bitch better have my money!”  

He fished around in his pocket, pulling out a one-dollar bill. “You got change for that?”

She was aghast. “You sir, are rude! I’m so tripping you up for that.”

He shrugged, giving her a playful shove on his way past, heading over to the hire shop. “Y’all gotta catch me first.” She ran at him, jumping up onto his back, Angel hauling her up properly and continuing, carrying her into the shop with him, Keri beaming as she locked her car. She utterly adored how well he got along with her friends. She witnessed it all the more after four hours of snowboard hurtling, stopping for a few drinks at the bar.  

“It’s gon’ hurt like fuck, Rach,” Angel warned, Rachel showing him the design she’d drawn for a tattoo she was planning, clusters of flowers with bumblebees and butterflies all around. “As soon as it hits your spine, trust me, y’all feel like screaming. I did.”

“Which one was worst for you?” Jaime began, who apart from Angel was the only other tattooed person at the table. “Spine or elbow?”

He snorted, shuddering. “I’d take spine over elbow a thousand times over. Elbow is straight devil bullshit.”  

“Right, because it goes over that little nerve between the bones...” she began, her eyes widening as she pointed to her Shiva tattoo that extended over the entire area.

“And you feel like death would be better, right?” he interrupted with, Jaime in heavy agreement. “I fucking suck at getting tattooed, makes me miserable. That’s why none of mine really connect. I wanted full sleeves, but fuck that. Forearms and chest were the only ones that didn’t really bother me.”  

“Right?” he confirmed, turning back to Rachel. “You found anyone to do that for you yet? Because if not, one of our guys in the club does fuckin’ badass colour stuff. Hang on, lemme find some of his work.” Grabbing his phone, he looked through to find Hank’s tattoo Instagram, leaning to kiss Keri as he did, resting his hand her leg so she didn’t feel left out of the conversation, being a person without tattoos and also no plans to have any. “Here.”

Rachel scrolled for all of ten seconds. “Okay, what’s his hourly rate?”  

“Two hundred, but I could probably swing you a little discount. Just know that getting tattooed with a bunch of outlaws loitering ain’t gonna be the best first experience, though. If you cry, you’ll likely get razzed for it. Hank’s great, though. He’ll be patient with you regardless, he’s a kind dude.”  

Keri snorted softly. “Someone’ll need to put a gag on Coco.” How well she knew him after only spending a short time in his company. “Perhaps not solely in the interests of keeping him quiet either.” Oh yes. She truly did.

Her statement had Angel laughing immediately. “Yeah, mamas. Can’t say he wouldn’t enjoy that, though. Mind you, if there’s anyone we gotta tie down, it’ll be Gilly. That man and redheads.” He let out a long, low whistle, turning to Rachel, who was nothing but curious in expression. Keri noticed, taking out her phone and flicking through her camera roll of all the pictures she’d taken during her stay in Santo Padre, handing it over to her friend. “That’s him.”

The noise that came from her mouth as she took Keri’s phone had Frankie snorting into her beer, blowing foam all over herself. “Is he a hottie, Rach?” she teased, the whole table entertained at the way her face continued to contort.  

“Hnnghmmmhmmmlahmng.”  

“I think that means she wants to bang him,” Keri whispered.

“Yeah I got that, dulce,” Angel replied, turning to kiss her head as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “So, you’re likely getting more than tattoo needles stuck in you when you come down, then?”  

“Yes,” she finally confirmed, after a few more unintelligible noises. “Oh, that man could go to town on my lady junk for as long as he fucking wanted to. Turn me inside out and back again, I don’t care. Damn.”  

Angel was in mild hysterics, grasping Rachel’s hand and giving it an emphatic squeeze and soft thump against the table. “I think somebody gon’ be damned popular with the big guy.” He then told her that he’d work something out with Hank for her tattoo during the time she’d be in Santo Padre, since earlier that week Keri had mentioned that she and her friends planned to head down there once their final semester was over, asking if he minded having an extra couple of houseguests.  

Speaking of a woman being turned inside out and back again, that was exactly his plan a few hours later, once he’d checked into the hotel a block away from Frankie’s apartment. He’d politely refused hers and Jaime’s offer of staying with them, on account of the fact that, as he’d stated, ‘I’ve missed my girl, and I don’t plan on showing her that quietly.’ He didn’t, either.  

“You missed me, my pretty little honey?” he panted, plunging into her from behind, the bed shaking, Keri reaching to grip the headboard as she cried out. “Yeah, you missed that big dick, huh?”  

A blaze of nirvana burned through her as he assailed her soaking walls with long, hard strokes, his hand pounding off her butt, the sting prickling her skin. “Oh fuck, I really did. Harder, baby. Please, fucking ruin me.” she panted. He didn’t need to be asked twice, the surge in him like a live wire, the sound of their flesh smacking together filling the air, Keri wailing, his hand weaving through her hair and slowly tugging until he had her head pulled back, grinning at how she thrived on it.  

“Yeah, my lil’ baby likes it when I’m rough, don’t she?” And god, how she did. How she thrived on the rapid delivery of his cock as it cut through the soaking squeeze of her hot cunt, pleasure throbbing through her as she shattered around him, like the ice upon a frozen lake cracking, her nerves in utter symphony as he slowed a little, tongue swiping a long lick up her spine.  

She took that moment of calm within the storm of their sex to pull away from him, a smouldering look making his insides burn as she turned to him, her mouth pressing kisses against his sweaty chest. “Get on your back.”  

He smirked, lifting his chin. “Oh, you gonna make me, mamacita?” A hand clasped at his neck a second later, Keri fixing him with stare of smoky allure, licking her lip, a seductive sweep that had his nerves bouncing.  

“I am,” she purred, pushing until he moved, climbing astride him. “That’s it. Mmm, down boy.” Fire shot through him, the sensuality of the moment, his groan all grit and salt as she sank down on him, her tongue dragging a hot lick over his nipple, closing in a soft bite.  

In their dreams, she’d once told him that she enjoyed that he brought out the bad girl in her. The live action version of that was utterly mind-blowing, Angel never being particularly yielding to anyone else, yet thriving when Keri did it to him, quite happily letting her pin him down by his neck, her fingers gently squeezing as she rode the hell out of his cock.  

What felt even greater was knowing that she now felt comfortable enough with him to be that person in reality, which if he was honest, was probably the bigger turn on for him. Only just, though, being pinned there as she rode him, sparks skittering up his spine as he felt himself wind tighter, the coil snapping within him as he came hard, flooding her with thick ropes of cum before she collapsed down on top of him.  

“Fuck...” he panted, stroking her back as she laid kisses against his neck. “Can we do that all over again before we gotta think about going out?”  

Looking down at him, she planted a soft kiss upon his lips, moaning softly at the feel of his cock still twitching inside of her. “Oh, we’d better be. I think I want a little nap, but after that I’m going to take a shower, one I don’t plan on being alone for.”  

An hour of sleep, an early room service dinner and twenty minutes of very hot fun in the shower later and Angel was sitting on the bed, watching Keri finish getting ready. Frankie and Jaime were having a small party, so of course they were heading there rather than going out alone.  

Keri was coating her eyelashes in a second coat of mascara when she caught him staring out of the corner of her eye. “What?”

“Nothing,” he smiled, “I just love you, is all. I know it’s only been a month, but you’re so fucking incredible, and you make me really happy, querida.”  

Her heart thrummed with the buzz such words evoked. “And I love you, too. We began so unbelievably, and I know it’s only early days, but we have so much to look forward to, don’t we? I can’t wait.” Her smile lit up her entire face, finishing putting her makeup on before dressing in a simple ensemble of a grey cropped top, a long black skirt and black boots, putting in her large hoop earrings and pulling on her jacket before they left.

“Oh, just to warn you, Aaron will be there tonight,” she told him as they left the hotel, Angel taking her hand in his.  

“I don’t care,” he shrugged, noting her mildly affronted facial expression and adjusting his attitude a little. “Look, what I mean is that if he don’t like me, then it’s his problem. I ain’t gonna be frosty with him, but if he doesn’t like me then he’s entitled not to, and I’m not gonna change his mind.”  

As it turned out, Aaron was the one to answer the door to them, greeting Keri with his usual warmth and banter, Angel receiving a nod of acknowledgement, but nothing more. Ash, however, made up for it.  

“My dude!” he yelled from across the apartment, jumping the coffee table and arriving to give him a big hug. “Keri, I’m stealing your man!”  

Angel turned to give her a quick kiss before Ash engaged him in conversation, Aaron pushing his glasses up his nose with a sour look on his face. Of course, she noticed.  

“Hey.” Grabbing his forearms gently, she steered him to face her. “Look, he knows you don’t like him, and he even said he won’t try to change your mind, but he has no issue with you. Please, for me, will you just try to get along with him? I get that you think he’s a dangerous guy, and if I’m honest with myself then yes, I have to admit that he is. He’s into things I don’t necessarily condone, but that’s not every facet of him. Do you really think the others would like him as much if he was really just as bad to the bone as you sum him up to be?”  

He looked uncomfortable to have been approached so directly about it, Aaron often not particularly enjoying when his own tactics were turned back on him. He had a habit of being the one who domineered the conversation. “I can’t be fake, Keri. Listen, I’ll be cordial with your boyfriend, but I still stand firm on the fact I don’t think he’s good for you. I can’t help but worry that something bad will happen to you because of you being with him.”

She sighed, nodding as she released the gentle grip on his arms. “Alright.” Cordial was all she could hope for, fixing a smile back on her face as she greeted Sam and Meredith, two of Frankie and Jaime’s friends who the latter knew from work, pouring herself a drink and chattering with them for a while before moving around to be social, eventually sliding into place back at her boyfriend’s side.  

They flitted to and from one another for the rest of the night, Frankie stealing him halfway through to go and buy weed with her (‘the guy scares me, I want some literal muscle with me!’ as she worded it) before she, Angel and Jaime went out onto the fire escape to smoke it, where the party had spilled over, a few other of the younger tenants from the apartments out being social, bringing their own beers out, people blending and getting to know one another.  

Not everyone was quite so magnanimous, though.  

“Who’s that guy in the kitchen getting into Jaime’s gin?” Keri asked, watching a guy literally upending the bottle into his mouth. She didn’t recognise him, and certainly even if he was a friend, basic etiquette dictated that you do not knock back someone else’s booze, of which he’d pulled from a cupboard, no less, drinking as if it was water. It was her Sakurao, a Japanese gin which she tended to keep back just for her and Frankie on account of the price tag.  

“I dunno, K,” Ash mused, scratching his hair as he wobbled slightly. “I haven’t ever seen him before.”  

She frowned, walking into the kitchen, Ash following. “Hey, excuse me? That’s Jaime’s gin, and it costs a fortune. Did she say you could have some?”  

The guy paused, scoffing. “Who the fuck is Jaime?”

“Erm, you’re in her apartment,” Keri revealed, gesturing around herself. “Come on, dude. This isn’t cool.” Reaching for the bottle, she pulled it away from him, locating the lid and screwing it back on.  

“Hey!” he suddenly bellowed, making her jump. “Who the fuck are you, goddamned alcohol police? Hand it over!”  

She gaped at him. “Are you seriously talking to me like this in my best friend’s home? Get out here!” Being that it was like a second home to her, she felt bolstered by that fact, and that she knew she was in the right. What she hadn’t taken into consideration though, was just how drunk the guy was. A guy she didn’t know at all. A guy who, unlike her own friends, likely wouldn’t have taken her gentle reprimanding well; because he didn’t.  

His hand shot out, shoving her in the face, snatching the bottle back and grabbing her jaw. “You fucking come near me again and I’ll smack you down, little girl!”  

“Hey!” she heard from behind her, Rachel steaming in out of nowhere. “Don’t fucking touch her!”  

He snorted with entertainment, reaching out and shoving Keri again, Rachel catching her, putting herself between him and her tiny friend. “I do what I like.”

She was aghast at his audacity. “No, you fucking don’t! You have no right to touch any woman like that, do you understand?” she cried, just about to move and yell for Angel when Ash, who’d been distracted by someone pulling him into conversation, acted for her. Pushing through the doors, he let out a piecing whistle. “Angel! Come up here, bro. We got a situation.” He then turned to the guy, grinning smugly. “You’re in fucking trouble now, man.”

Angel was with them quickly, moving straight to Keri as soon as he saw her looking a little wide eyed, cuddled against Rachel. His eyes darkened. “What the fuck happened?”

Rachel pointed to where the guy and his friends were leaving, trying to exit out of the kitchen door and back onto the fire escape. “Guy in the Chicago Bulls jersey just shoved Keri around.”  

The look on his face turned from dark to completely thunderous in a nanosecond. “Hold these.” Sliding his rings off of both hands, he gave them to Rachel, Keri reaching to try and stop him. “No, no. Nobody puts a fucking hand on you.” Storming back out, he saw the guys hadn’t gotten far, Angel reaching and hauling him back by the neck of his identifying jersey, getting right up in his face.  

“Hey, what’s your problem, man?” the guy spat, gesturing wide with his arms.  

“You, putting a hand on my girl. That’s my problem.”  

He received a slight sneer, the guy opening his mouth before promptly and without pause, Angel punched him in it. The silence of the people who had stopped to watch it unfold was rippled by a chorus of ‘oooh’ at witnessing the guy slump against the wall, Angel laying into him, throwing another three flesh splitting, bone fracturing punches before grabbing hold of him.

A hand fastened around his wrist, another grasping his jeans, before the guy who thought he could do whatever he wanted discovered that there were certain repercussions to such; like being thrown over the fire escape and dangled there by an irate outlaw.  

A deathly hush fell over the small crowd.  

“What the fuck, man? Let me go!” the guy yelled, his legs flailing, trying not to look four floors down at the ground.

Angel snorted, glaring down at him. “You fucking touch my girl again and I will. Do not try me. You think this is angry? Bitch you ain’t even seen angry yet.” He then loosened his grip, just a fraction, enough to scare the shit out of him.  

Immediately, the target of his rage screamed. “Please, please I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”  

“Ain’t me you gotta apologise to,” Angel began. “Keri? Come here, baby.” She moved past Rachel and Ash, arriving at his side, quivering a little. Nobody had ever defended her like that before, and it was an adrenaline-stirring sight. Angel truly did not play when it came to someone he loved. “Now tell her you’re sorry for putting your fucking hands on her.”

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry I shoved you. I take it back, I do. Please, please don’t let your guy drop me!”  

Angel looked to her. “Satisfied?”  

She nodded, stepping back. “Yeah, that’s good enough for me.”  

Hauling him back up over the fire escape, Angel dumped him unceremoniously upon the black iron, the guy standing up and gathering himself. “You got five seconds to move, or you meet my fists again. Get your bitch ass outta here.” The warning was heeded, the three guys making a speedy exit, passing a glaring Frankie by, who then came hurtling up the steps to throw her arms around Angel.  

“You’re the fucking best!” Taking his face in her hands, she planted a huge kiss on his lips, pulling away and crinkling her nose. “Nope. Thankful, but definitely gay.” Everyone cracked up at that, her usual comedy cutting the lingering tension from the air as people all around told Angel how awesome he was for handling the situation like that. Well, the ones who weren’t scared stiff after witnessing him dangle someone off a fire escape.  

One of those who was appreciative came in an unlikely source, Aaron approaching, standing square in front of him. Angel wondered for a moment, just what kind of response his fairly extreme actions would get from a guy who already had admitted to not liking him for being a violent outlaw, looking down to see a hand extended to him.  

“You look out for Keri like that, and you and I don’t have a problem any longer. I see she’s gonna be just fine with you. Wanna go get a beer?”  

Angel smiled, shaking his hand before clasping his shoulder. “Yeah, c’mon, bro.”

Inside, Keri breathed a huge sigh of relief, Angel turning to kiss her and Aaron checking she was alright after her ordeal before they entered the kitchen, fetching a few beers from the ice-filled sink and beginning to talk.  

Frankie put her arm around her, nodding towards the guys. “Who knew all it took for Aaron to be cool with Angel was to see something as small and simple as someone being thrown over a fire escape?”  

Her light sarcasm had Keri in stitches, leaning into her as she sipped her drink. Yes, he was definitely becoming at home in her world, and nothing could please her more.  

[evanoxvt]

You reap what you sow, especially when you piss off your chronically ill housemate.

So I've been living with my housemates for over 5 years now, and they have had PLEANTY of time to learn how to do basic fucking things you do when living with pets and animals. I threw in the towel and decided I will no longer spend extra energy to correct behaviors my HOUSEMATES CAUSED.

They can't be bothered to let my SERVICE DOG outside to go pee? Then they deserve to have my dog BARKING IN THEIR FACE when she's given plenty of indications she needs to go potty. If she does not come upstairs to let me know her needs, I'll come downstairs only after they loose their shit that she's barking. I'm not going to teach her to hold it in and not tell people that she has needs.

Another example of behaviors THEY HAVE CAUSED that they don't like is her constant begging in the kitchen and while they eat. I will never ask my dog to follow me upstairs again SPECIFICALLY so they can eat in peace. They brought this upon themselves. They leave food ON THE FLOOR, have let her eat food off their plates in their laps and NEVER ONCE told her to get out of the kitchen while they cook. I gave up because I am only ONE OF EIGHT FUCKING PEOPLE here.

My dog behaves much better in public than she does in my own home and its because of stupid shit from the last 5+ years of living with these morons. In my bedroom I will literally hold a piece of salami up to her nose and not allow her to eat it until I say its okay. In the rest of the house no one holds her accountable, in addition to in the past they've PRAISED HER for doing the wrong thing, and ACTIVELY call her into the kitchen to be their 'vacuum'. I will not be bothered to spend ALL OF MY ENERGY to train out behaviors that 6-7 of the other people I live with ENCOURAGE. I will instead focus my energy on working on her tasks and her upkeep of skills outside the house. Fuck these morons and their sudden realization that they don't like the issues they've caused.

There are many more issues that they've caused but honestly I feel like these are enough examples to prove my point of 'you reap what you sow, and you done fucked up so I'm not cleaning up your mess'.

I have one person who I live with that actually tries, but they waited too long. My dog has lived here since she was about 5 months old. She's turning 8 years old in December. He waited far too long to ask this dog (who is a stubborn husky mix mind you) for obedience. She does not listen to basically anyone but me here, but if you go to a dog park she will listen to MANY people. Imagine that. She will listen to a stranger over the people she lives with because they have literally ignored me and my training for so many fuckin years she decided they DO NOT NEED TO BE LISTENED TO. LIKE HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

The irony of it all is that she was not raised to be a service dog, yet when I take her out to do her job she listens really well (for the most part, gotta love stubborn husky brain, but even the best of trained service dogs have issues at times. Please don't come after me, a handler trainer who barely has the physical capacity to do the training of her skills and can't afford to get trainers to help teach and upkeep new skills).

My dog and I both get abused in this house, and as much as it hurts me to say that, it's true. I get gaslight about my health constantly, told my reactions (as an autistic person) are not okay/ that I need to stop being 'childish' and that I need to somehow consider everyone else's needs ABOVE my own. They physically leave things outside where my dog needs to go that have and continue to injure her. I am so fucking tired of her coming inside about every 2-3 weeks limping on on or both of her front legs because she had to jump over some piece of heavy metal, (the long bar) weights, little fences in the backyard, etc. If she is injured she cannot do her job properly, which means I CANNOT LEAVE MY HOME. Which means I am directly being affected because of their actions. I have meltdowns caused by specific triggers that are KNOWN within this house, on a REGULAR BASIS. Apparently I need to "go see a psychologist" because of this. I'm sorry, but a psychologist cannot physically prevent you from doing things that are KNOWN TO CAUSE AN AUTISTIC TRIGGER and can literally be avoided entirely by a little compassion and change from others. I cannot NOT have a meltdown over things that have been proven to ALWAYS cause me to have a meltdown. That's literally part of being autistic. My health is another thing. I cannot be in hot temperatures because it CAUSES my health issues to flare up. Things like MY VISION get distorted, blurry, and even temporarily blind all because I got too hot. I'm not allowed to cool the house to a level that is conducive of my health. I get yelled at for not doing TONS OF CHORES but they fail to realize even just cooking a pot of ramen causes several of my symptoms to flare up and can sometimes prevent me from doing literally anything for the rest of the day. They know this happens yet place unrealistic expectations upon me and my dog, then yell at both of us when we cannot or do not do what they want.

I can literally go on and on and on about this. It's fucking insane and not okay, yet is the life I live because I can't work. I just don't even know where to go from here to explain the stupidity of it all.

[softyetswitch]

The second half of today was a lot harder than the first. This is to be expected in recovery; you start to feel a bit better, and you want to just BE better. Of course, that isn’t how it works. “One step forward, two steps back,” is a saying for good reason. Everything takes time, and that really fucking sucks. It doesn’t feel like “time” is something I have anymore, but it has felt that way every time I’ve started again. This time feels worse, but that has much to do with it just being right now. I’ve started again at least a dozen times in adult life. At least now I know what it looks like when I burn everything to the ground, when I try to run away from everything, and when I try to shut everyone out.

Nonetheless, this still hurts. I still have to be gentle with myself. I still have to limit my expectations regarding what “recovery” looks like. It doesn’t look like getting a job, or making art to share, or building close relationships - at least right now. We’re just not there yet, and I need to recognize this. I can’t skip from step one to step 12. I can’t ping back and forth between steps. I have to take things one day at a time, moment to moment, even.

I think this is helping though, writing all of this out, especially between the days where I have group therapy. I can’t “write” write worth a shit right now, so I need to just write something. Even if it’s raw, even if my grammar sucks, even if it’s rambling and not worth a read back for anyone but myself. You know, how I wrote before I became any bit of self-aware.

Looking back on those times, I miss the spirit I had. I miss the wide-eyes and the hope behind what I was doing. I don’t know, knowing what I know now, if I can ever find that kind of hope again. All things considered, learning about politics for the past five years really fucked me up and warped my brain. I think it was a poor choice. 

Sure, there are things I learned in school I am grateful of; things that would have helped me if I had any chance of escaping the chains of class in order to make art for a living, things that made me a better writer, and things that helped explain why we don’t (and never will) live in a just world. That said, I will never be able to repay the debt I now owe, and I will have to pick a brand-new career path at some point. Hopefully there is something out there for me. I’ve looked into the computer science program at the local university, but there is a lot of math. I am terrible at math.

Really, I long to do something I can immerse myself in for eight hours a day, if I have to work a real job. I need some kind of purpose to serve. I cannot remain an empty vessel for the remainder of my life, however long that is.

Look at me, talking about the future when I’ve been thinking about suicide for the last three months. Maybe the dopamine from the meds is starting to re-emerge. Why did I agree with the doctor to go off those meds in the first place? What was I thinking? I was on that shit for like three years. It’s clear I still need it. I wish that wasn’t the case, but it is.

I need to leave the past in the past, and only think about the future when I can actually act on those thoughts, I need to limit rumination. There is nothing I can do to change the things I’ve done. I can only try to do better right now.

[argylemikewheeler]

July 1st, 1985

what the first ep of (my) s3 would look like if the main concept was: both Steve and Will are gay in 1985’s Summer of Love and the town’s enemy is a little more human; loving friendships, very confused adults, and Will Byers Actually Getting Help

“Harrington!”

“Yes, sir.” Steve looked up from his desk. He dropped his crossword and looked to be at attention; the police station’s phone wasn’t ringing, though, so there wasn’t really anything he should have been doing. Hopper stepped out of his office, angling himself toward the door rather than Steve’s desk island.

“Do you think you’ll be able to-- Harrington, what are you doing?” Hopper caught sight of the pocket thesaurus sitting on his desk (the last name written on the inside cover not belonging to Steve, of course). Hopper fixed his sunglasses on the edge of his nose, looking over them and down at Steve.

“I’m just, uh, working on my vocabulary.” Steve said. Hopper blinked twice, waiting. Steve wasn’t going to say the truth: he was dating-- well seeing someone-- way smarter than him. This wasn’t for joy or boredom. He was studying to impress. “It’s college prep, sir.”

“The crossword?” The chief evened his stare. “This your old man’s suggestion?” Of all the things Steve’s father was telling him to do with himself, he  wished  some of it was simply pecking at a crossword over a twelve hour shift.  Fucking off  and  being a better piece of shit son  just wasn’t feasible to accomplish in one summer.

“He swears by it.”

“Okay, well. Uh, moving on from that,” Hopper grabbed his hat from the coat rack. The topic of Steve’s father always made Hopper stiffen up; it was definitely the main reason Hopper gave Steve his job at the station, but it still created more questions. Steve knew Hopper and his father went to high school together, but he never asked his father about those years-- beyond his baseball glory stories. “I’ve got plans tonight and I need to head out early. Can you handle things on your own for a while. At least until the night shift comes in?”

“I’ll be fine.” Steve made sure not to acknowledge the crossword on his desk as he nodded. He was really good at his job, he was. He was also just, unfortunately, still a pretty shitty boyfriend and needed all the vocab help he could get. “What’s the pressing story?”

“I have dinner.” Hopper was already trying to walk out the door. “So  don’t  call me. For the love of God.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Chief. I--” Steve was sure it was the cool July wind that slammed the door on the last half of his sentence. Not Hopper. “won’t... Have a good time, I guess.”

The police station was empty: it was another boring and wonderfully quiet Monday in Hawkins. There’d been some calls to break up disturbances at city hall in the past few days, but somehow everyone just seemed to agree that Mondays-- the longest shift of Steve's whole week-- was the day everyone went about their quietest day.

There were a few officers milling in and out of the back lounge and front door, casting a quick glance to Steve as he muttered and threatened fourteen down and six across. Nancy had been helping close the gaps of his post-high school education-- without knowing just what for-- but had been picking up most hours at the Post to try and elbow her way into their good graces; it put his tutoring on hold. So here he was, groaning at some clues about classical artists he’d never heard of.

There were other reasons Steve was sure the other officers thought he was odd-- things he was  sure  his father had passed along in spitting rants-- but Steve didn’t mind. No one said anything to his face.

“Hey Flo! Is, uh, is Steve here?” The question was asked with the answer already in mind.

Steve sat up in his chair, twisting around to see down the hall to the back entrance to the station. There weren’t many parking spots to fill, but he knew a certain someone who preferred it to street parking.

“Jonathan?”

“Oh, I hear him. Thanks-- hey!” Jonathan hurried out from the hall, his camera bumping against his stomach and bag slapping against his leg in the same rhythm. He’d gotten a new haircut recently: semi-wonky bangs and a closer cut in the back. All thanks to Steve’s peer pressure and Mrs. Byers’s kitchen shears.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sorry to stop by your work like this--” he lowered his voice as he stopped at the corner of Steve’s desk. “I know we said we wouldn’t do that, but we got an extra muffin in the lunch order and I know you’re always starving after a Monday shift so.” Jonathan produced a folded brown paper bag from his satchel. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks.” Steve wanted to say so much more, but had to settle. No more. None of what they’d decided they wouldn’t say. Not until the summer had ended. They wanted to see if they lasted longer than the convenience of loose summer schedules.

“Won’t I see you, uh, later, though?” At eight, when Steve got sent home he always drove straight to Jonathan’s. Jonathan started late on Tuesdays and Steve had off; they had the time to waste. “Or is this your way of telling me to stay home?”

“No! No we’re still... hanging out.” Jonathan had gotten really good at cooking and treated Steve to weekly dinner. It was a nice gesture at first, but Steve started growing fond of the company. They both did around mid-June. “But, I think Mike’s going to be over so. Be  cool , alright? Keep it cool.”

“Cool, got it.” Steve leaned back in his chair. He moved his papers to leave a corner of his desk for Jonathan to sit on. No one was in the main office; it was a harmless invitation.

“I have to get going...” It sounded like an excuse, a dive for safety. “And I’m sure you have, um,  puzzles  to do?” Jonathan pretended not to be endeared. He tried, he really did. He  failed , but Steve pretended he didn’t notice.

“Don’t want to sit and help me figure out the title of Mozart’s last opera?” He patted the desk, daring to be more direct.

“I really have to go.” Jonathan was genuine, looking at his watch. “The Post only let me out early today because I have to go pick up Will from his doctor’s appointment.”

“Wait.” Steve put the cap back on his pen. “Isn’t Will’s therapy on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, but with Mom’s schedule and the store being all weird-- we had to move it to today. And you know we typically have a family night after-- so he feels okay, you know-- but we  can’t  . So,  that’s why Mike’s coming over. Hopefully they’ll be idiots and tire Will out and he’ll sleep okay.” Tension rose in Jonathan’s voice quickly, explaining his day as if going over a laundry list; never rehearsing it but having it memorized.

“I can stay home if you need time, Jonathan.”

“No, really. I want you to come over.” Jonathan sighed and placed his hand on the emptied spot on Steve’s desk. “Besides, you can’t break tradition after a little over  one month , then it was just a weird habit.”

Steve Harrington did not consider his summer fling a w  eird habit . If anything, it was the most sensical thing he’d done in a very long time. Even after getting rejected from all his colleges, and never hearing the end of his father’s lectures, 1985 had been very kind to him. And that was mostly due to Jonathan’s inherent nature to be the same.

“I’ll see you after eight.” Steve smiled and reached for his hand-- but averted to grab a piece of memo paper by the phone.

“I’m sorry to leave in a rush.” Jonathan hitched his bag up, checking his watch again. “I just, I really need to get going.”

“Don’t worry. The muffin is  more  than enough.” Steve said. “And seeing you wasn’t too bad either.”

“Slow day, huh?” Jonathan said. The corner of his mouth quirked with a flattered, embarrassed smile. Steve tried to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t so goddamn relieved to see a familiar and happy face. Especially  his  familiar and happy face. “Well, good thing I have another surprise for you.”

“You can barely fit your camera in that bag, what could you possibly-- hey!” Steve missed grabbing Jonathan’s arm as he walked away, heading for the front door. “Where are you going?” Jonathan kept walking, checking his watch the whole way. “Hello?”

“Delivered right on time.” Jonathan pushed the front door open to the station-- but was nearly knocked over as a green  dash  barreled through it.

"Steve! Steve! Steve!” The dash was suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders. “You got the job!”

“Henderson! Oh my god! You’re back!” In an unlikely impulse, Steve grabbed Dustin in a hug, taking advantage of the change of height. “Holy shit, I nearly forgot! First of the month!”

“See you, Steve.” Jonathan walked across the room to the back entrance again. His hand braced the back of Steve’s chair, brushing across his shoulders.

“O-Okay! Yeah, see you!” Steve sputtered, losing his reminded  cool  in an instant. “Bye.”

Dustin pulled away slowly. “What was that?” It looked like  everyone  was too smart for Steve.

“Nothing. He brought me a surprise lunch-- which was an  obvious decoy to the main event! You! How are you, buddy? How was camp?”

“Oh, it was fantastic. Steve, I  have  to show you all my inventions! Camp was the  best  four weeks  of  my  life .” Dustin hopped up onto the corner of his desk. His heels tapped against the empty metal drawers. He was jittery, nearly uncontainable, but still so composed-- if only to be focused all on Steve.

Steve held his hands out, letting him start. “Lay it on me, Henderson! I want to hear everything. I missed you like crazy.”

“Well, first, obviously. I have to tell you about my girlfriend--”

“Whoa! Whoa!  Girlfriend  ? That fast?” Steve hadn’t been expecting any of his dating advice to work. It had been coming from such a poor and confused part of himself, Steve figured it was destined to fail. Apparently, it was just  Steve  that was-- when flirting with women at least. “Damn, there’s something in you after all!”

“She’s  super  smart, Steve. I’ve never met any girl like her. She’s a genius and she’s so pretty. God, I miss her already-- and I  just  saw her.”

Steve looked over his shoulder. He knew the feeling. “That’s great, man. I mean, I’m super happy for you. Like, that’s  crazy . That’s freaking awesome.”

“So what about you? How are the ladies? I mean, you work for the  Chief  now. All the ladies you could need and more, am I right?”

Steve used to be really good at this part of the lie, but with Dustin it felt cheap. He didn’t need to lie to him, but that was the deal; no matter how much that person was Steve’s best and most beloved friend, their secret was a dead-bolt, vaulted secret.

“Eh, not too great. Only girl my own age I see-- besides Nancy, really-- is the night-shift girl, Robin. But she’s not really-- we’re just friends. She’s alright. Leaves me weird drawings in the memo pad.”

“Ooo, she sounds cool.” Dustin raised his eyebrows. “Do you know her from school?”

“Yeah, we didn’t really run in the same crowds but-- it’s not like that, man. It’s really not.” Steve started unwrapping his lunch. “It’s so not like that with Robin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not...  looking  at the moment.”

Steve had originally decided to not go looking for trouble. After he and Nancy split in the beginning of his senior year, he didn’t start looking for an immediate replacement. The illusion of thinking he was in love with Nancy-- capable of being in love with Nancy-- was a hard thing to have come crumbling down. Steve needed time to get his own bearings, to put his feet firmly on the ground, and have them lifted off when his father grabbed him by the lapels and--

Steve hadn’t gone looking for trouble. Hadn’t gone looking for love either. But somehow, both seemed to find him.

Jonathan was late. He usually wasn’t but Will was trying not to be worried. It was a different day than usual and he knew how awful Jonathan’s boss and co-workers were. Will tried not to be worried-- he wasn't. It was just that he had spent an hour talking about the night his father left their family; standing outside the doctor’s office was a bit nerve-wracking. It felt too familiar, even with all the talking and note-scribbling.

Finally, Jonathan’s car pulled into the lot. He was speeding, as much as his car  could  speed: he knew he was late, which made Will feel a little bit better. No one had forgotten him. It was just traffic or his bosses or maybe just hitting all the red lights. As Jonathan stopped in front of the curb and waved Will in, Will could see he was jittery-- he was  upset  that he was late. Will felt bad for counting the minutes.

Not that he did it out of impatience or anything. Will just formed the habit after getting his new watch. It matched Mike’s. Completely on accident, of course.

“Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. I was-- I had to run an errand really fast. How long were you waiting.” He moved his bag and threw it onto the backseat. Will would’ve held it on his lap.

“I wasn’t keeping track.” Will said, climbing into the passenger seat. Will wanted to ask if his bag had Jonathan’s camera in it. If everything was okay. He didn’t. It seemed like Jonathan had been in his therapy with Will, just as shaken up. “It’s okay. Thanks for getting me.”

Jonathan waited until Will put on his seat belt. “Of course. We’re always here to pick you up. Therapy is important; you have to go.”

Will laughed before he could stop himself. “You sound like Mom.”  Why?

“Because she’s right.” Therapy was still kind of weird to Will-- since  no one else  in his grade had to do it-- but he humored his family. It was helping, if he had to admit it. But it was still embarrassing sometimes.

His therapist, Dr. Bright--  Rose Marie, as she insisted on being called-- was a send-out from the Lab, but disguised within a private practice just outside of town. She was able to listen to Will talk about what he saw and felt during his time with the Mind Flayer without trying to commit him. Almost nothing was off limits. Almost nothing.

Will checked his watch again.

“Are you excited to see Mike tonight?” The question was pointed, but Will wasn’t sure why it made him nervous. “I mean, I feel like I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s always with El.”

Will was sure they  weren’t  dating. El was just on a year-long stint of self-discovery and, besides Max, Mike was the person she trusted the most to help make as many helpful mistakes as possible. He bought her books to read and new music to try. It was really sweet, seeing Mike take such big strides toward helping their friend. But there was also a part of Will that felt dejected:  his  sort of help had to be prescribed and couldn’t be replaced with a warm laugh from one Mike Wheeler.

Will was sick while his friends were growing.

“Is there something wrong?” Jonathan used to ask the question like Will was one trembling lip away from crying-- but this time, he asked it like Will had his hand on the door, seconds from jumping out. “Will, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Will nodded. “I’m fine. Just-- I talked a lot today and I’m tired.”

“Do you want to cancel with Mike--”

“No.” Will had been looking forward to having time with Mike--  just  Mike-- for a whole week. He wanted to sit on his floor with his best friend and be a kid again. Just for the night-- maybe draw some of Mike’s old campaigns or sketch out an idea for his own. He just wanted to remember something good about the past four years. After his hour with Dr. Bright, it all felt painful. Like his childhood naivety had been broken and every conversation he overheard in his house dripped with venom and disdain.

Will didn’t like picturing his house that way. It was a place that loved and raised him, a place he felt safe. He didn’t like thinking the conversations he heard being screamed through the walls were trapped in the drywall.

His arms felt heavy and his chest felt like it was made of metal-- he kept tasting it in his mouth. Will leaned back against the seat and reached for the radio. Jonathan turned it down before Will had even changed the station.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I just want to see Mike.” Will said, his mouth too honest and his mind shrouded in guilt. “I just want to see my friend.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jonathan nodded somewhat somberly. “I understand. Let’s go pick him up. He’s at his house right? Not El’s-- o-or The Sinclair’s or anything?”

“No. He’s at his.” Will crossed his arms and tried to find the loose string-- the thing that could uncoil Jonathan’s still-tightening anxiety. “Are you still dating Nancy?”

Jonathan turned to look at Will, nearly crashing the car. That was the wrong string. “What?”

“Nancy? Are you still dating her?”

“I was never dating Nancy.” Jonathan laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not dating Mike’s sister, don’t worry.” The clarification was strange and felt off-topic. Like Jonathan was trying to talk about something else.

“I thought you were. You guys hung out a lot during school.” Will heard her voice through the walls too. Always gentle, never yelling. Except when she was losing at playing cards. Then she shouted.

“She was helping me pass chemistry. That’s all.” Jonathan turned the radio up a little. Will checked his watch. “And then she helped me apply to the Post internship-- she’s great at writing papers, did you know that? A real wordsmith. Is Mike a writer too?”

He was, he  really  was. Grammatically, Will ran out of red pens trying to help, but creatively? Will envied Mike’s ability. “I don’t know. We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff like you two do… Since you two are dating.”

“We’re  not .” Jonathan laughed. Will took advantage of an upcoming stop sign to lean forward and look at his brother’s crimson face. “We’re not, Will, okay? We’re really not. I’d tell you.”

“You’d tell me?”

“Of course! I’d tell you if I… I had a girlfriend. Which I don’t!” He stayed at the stop sign for a bit too long. “Do you?”

There was an option to play dumb, to make Jonathan ask more directly:  do you have a girlfriend, Will ? but it sounded far more painful than being honest, than being as lonely as he was.

“No. I don’t.”

“And you’d tell me. If you were dating someone?” Jonathan looked at Will, hopeful but scarcely so. “You’ll tell me if anything big happens in your life?”

“Yeah.” There wouldn’t be anything happening at all that summer, that was for  damn sure . “Absolutely.”

Steve had about seventy percent of his puzzle done-- fifty of which was because Dustin was an unstoppable genius with no tolerance for Steve’s careful pace. It was just about quarter past seven, and Steve’s back was getting sore from sitting in his chair all day. He only liked sitting when it was in his car, on his way to the Byers's House, careful, of course, to obey all traffic laws.

Steve was packing his crosswords and pens up in the top drawer of his desk when something clattered the back door open. Steve grabbed a pen and whipped around in his seat, as if to wield it like a weapon.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

“Hey dingus.” Luckily, Steve couldn’t even see Robin yet-- or rather, she couldn’t see him or his emphasized eye roll. She could hear him groan though. “Hey, shut up and quit whining. I’m sending you home early.”

Her head popped out from the hallway. Robin’s ponytail was high on her head, the hair flopping over and getting caught in her stringy bangs. She flung her backpack out from behind her and tossed it toward Steve. She wasn’t in her uniform yet, only wearing the buttoned up shirt-- unbuttoned and showing her torn and dyed shirt underneath. She was wearing jogging shorts, her knees torn up and covered with Band-Aids. They reminded Steve of the ones taped to his face after getting a plate smashed into his forehead. Deceivingly cheerful.

“What are you doing here early?” Steve stood and followed her, holding her backpack awkwardly in his hands. “You’re  never  early.” Eight on the dot. Every time.

“I figure you want to get out of here tonight.” She didn’t even stop to look at Steve as they walked into the back room. “Probably want to see your boyfriend.”

Her words weren’t sharp, but Steve still recoiled. He let his arms, and her bag, hang by his sides.

“Who? Jonathan?” The only way Jonathan and Robin had ever met was in the hallways of Hawkins High. She definitely never saw them interact at the station-- or on any of their nights together: they were always indoors. “He’s  not my boyfriend.”

“First off, I didn't even say a name." Shit. "Second, he came in the other day looking for you.” Robin started buttoning her shirt up, fixing the collar as she finally turned to see Steve. “He was really upset-- didn’t even know what time it was to know you weren’t working.”

“Upset?” Technically, it wasn’t Steve’s problem. It was the deal; they didn’t  have  to care about each other’s lives. It was just summer. It was just like any other summer.

“Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.” Robin sounded extremely sympathetic despite beginning to change her pants. Steve whipped around, covering his face. “You should go see him. Make sure he’s okay. Be a good boyfriend... shithead.”

“He’s  not--”

“Steve, I’m the last person you should be arguing with.” Robin laughed-- and it was only momentarily threatening. Until, of course, Steve realized what she meant.

Like all good secrets kept at Hawkins PD, Steve kept his mouth shut and nodded even if she wasn’t looking.

“Yes, sir--ma'am-- Robin.”

“So, are you going to go or what, dingus?” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Get out of here-- and tell me all about it Wednesday.”

Steve blinked at her, holding out her bag. As if it was enough thanks to give her back her own property. “Are we… friends, or something?”

“No, of course not.” She winked, slapping his arm. “Just looking out for one of my own.”

After picking Mike up from his house, they drove home in uncharacteristic chatter. Jonathan was the only one speaking, humming along to the radio. Will was exhausted beyond performative small talk; the type that had to be done between two best friends when a third party was present. Mike was great at just sitting with Will in silence, but Jonathan didn’t know that. Instead, the three of them passed around quiet jokes and laughter, answering questions about their friends for Jonathan’s upkeep of information.

Once they got in the house, Jonathan let them wander off into Will’s room as he started pulling pots out of the kitchen cabinets. He wouldn’t bother or pester them about any summer work, either. They would be left alone in their own coupled silence.

Mike was sitting cross-legged on Will’s floor, twisting one of Will's crayons between his fingers. Will needed new ones but he felt funny asking for them as a near-freshman in high school. He liked the glide of wax on paper compared to the scrape of colored pencils. Well, that and the fact he ruined half of his crayons the year prior making a full map of Hawkins in a fugue state and only had two crayons able to be used normally.

“You had doctor stuff today, right?”

Will was digging under his bed for his emptier sketch book. “Yeah. Therapy.  Doctor  doctor stuff was two weeks ago.”

“How was it?” Mike let his hand still and rest in his lap. “Like, what do you do in therapy? Just start talking?”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that. You have to think about stuff too. Doctors ask you questions, sometimes.” Will pulled back and drug his old drawing supplies along the carpet. He sat back on his heels and was able to see Mike over the top of the bed. He didn’t know Will was looking. “You have to have answers.”

“What do they ask about?” Mike kept looking at his hands, unaware of Will. “Upside down stuff?”

“Sometimes.” Will shuffled back around to Mike's side of the bed. He could feel the tiniest bit of rug burn starting. “She asked me about my dad today.”

Mike looked up, almost immediately. “Can she do that?”

“Why can’t she?” Will popped the lid on the retired Tupperware, now his art bin. “I talked about it.”

“I thought you didn’t like to.” Will had never said those words which meant Mike had gathered it from just observing him. “Did you… like talking about it?”

“Not really.” Will laughed. He found a few extra crayons, but of all the wrong colors. “She had this big speech afterward about learned helplessness that I… really didn’t like.” Will tried to keep laughing.

Mike put the crayon back in the bin. “Are you okay, Will?”

“Yeah. It’s just… the same old stuff.” Will shrugged. “Sometimes it just bothers me more than other days.”

Mike bit the inside of his cheek, picking at his words carefully. “You never talk about your dad, Will.”

“Why would I?”

“Because it bothers you. You can talk about anything you want-- I… I would listen.”

“You don’t have to listen to it just because it happened to me, you know. My therapist says you don’t have to experience things with me for them to be real.”

“But I want to know.” Mike looked insulted, almost crushed and collapsed as he sat back on his hands. “That’s your dad,” he said. “And you’re my friend.”

They sat in silence for a while. Mike went back to studying a new crayon, picking at the wrapper. Will felt something forming in his throat. A bubble that was hot, thick and sticky. Not vomit, but not impending tears either.

“I don’t get why he left.” Will said. “I don’t know what happened to our family.”

“Nothing happened. Maybe he just… wasn’t good at being your dad anymore.”

“But then why? What did I do?” Will didn’t want to ask Mike, make him feel responsible for answering, but Will was desperate to ask the universe again.

“Nothing.” Mike said. “I just think he…”

“He what? My dad got tired of me? Didn’t want to raise me?”

“Maybe he actually learned how to take a hint and knew he wasn’t good enough for you and Jonathan-- or your mom.” Mike wanted to be hopeful, to be positive, so badly. He ached, his smile tight and weak. He didn't have the answers, and who was Will to put him in the position to come up with them.

“So he gave up.” Will said.

“That’s not what I meant--”

“I know. I know… That’s just how it feels.” Will shrugged. He smiled at Mike, accepting his help and his warmth. It hurt knowing that Mike was wrong, but still. Will could always pretend a little longer. Anything for Mike.

“Hey! You monsters hungry?” Steve clapped his hands together before gently tapping the door. “Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

The door was open. Steve didn’t have to knock. He wanted to, just to prove he wasn’t  too  comfortable, but he also knew Mike was over. And knocking would announce his entrance rather than letting it just be something that just  was  . Rather than being  cool .

Awkwardly and with a lot of weird, throat-clearing fanfare, Steve opened the Byers’s front door and poked his head inside. Jonathan called him in from the kitchen without even needing to say hello, or being surprised by his walking in:  In here, Steve! Dinner’s almost done .

Steve walked through the living room carefully, as if he’d disturb it. There was a tape playing softly-- some band Steve’s never heard of, but didn’t hate. He’d grown to like the way that every song played in the Byers house was always moody and melancholy. The music was always the opposite of how he felt stepping into the kitchen.

Jonathan was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. He had what looked to be tomato sauce stains on the front of his shirt-- where he wrapped his hand up to open the sauce jar. Steve was able to hide his smile as he shouldered off his uniform jacket and toed off his shoes, claiming a chair at the kitchen table.

“How was work?” Jonathan didn’t stop stirring. He moved like the stove was turned all the way up and he was afraid of burning the food. He spoke that way too.

“It was fine. Not a whole lot.” Steve didn’t want to have anything seem bigger than whatever upset Jonathan-- and seemed to still be upsetting him now. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Will and Mike are in the other room.” He was checking things off his list. Steve stepped up to Jonathan and stood even with him at the stove. He was making one-pot pasta. It really did smell fantastic. Steve was so hungry, even after his lunch.

“How was… the other things in your day? Develop any good pictures?” Steve covered how stupid he sounded by placing his hand on Jonathan’s lower back.

Jonathan stopped stirring and looked at him. Steve tried to keep cool, tried not to show his motives-- his attempt to calm something he couldn’t believe he’d missed spinning out of control, even if he didn’t know what it was. “Nancy walked into the dark room today-- she’s actually the one who gave me the muffin-- and she exposed the photos to light too early. So no, actually.”

Steve really was a bad boyfriend. Even when he wasn’t one yet-- or at all.

“Okay… how was. Everything else?”

“You don’t have to ask about my day, Steve. It’s okay.” Jonathan sighed and spoke evenly. “I’m just a little tired. Really. We don’t have to do the whole…  thing .”

The whole thing where Steve was explicit about how much he really cared about Jonathan and admitted he was sincerely and terrifyingly in love with Jonathan.

“I was asking because I was curious. Not out of obligation.” Steve clarified. His hand slid to rest on Jonathan’s hip. He moved closer, lips aiming to place a commitment-less kiss on his cheek.

“Steve! I said to keep it  cool .” Jonathan ducked back, placing a hand on Steve’s chest. “I don’t want Will to see us.”

“Your brother?” Steve was surprised; of all people Jonathan explicitly wanted to hide from Will seemed kind and forgiving-- not that there was anything  to  forgive, but it was something Steve often checked for. Steve was sure that one of Dustin’s friends would be… like Steve. Or like Jonathan-- maybe. All of them seemed prepared to deal with any of their friends suddenly being different. Far more prepared than Steve ever was.

“Yes. My brother.” Jonathan snapped, banging the spoon against the edge of the pot. “I don’t want him to learn I’m not dating Nancy but  instead  seeing her ex-boyfriend in the same day.” he whispered.

“Wait, what? He thinks you’re with Nancy?” Steve wasn’t sure where they went wrong. They were trying to  obscure  the truth, not lead everyone to a different reality. “D-Do you think Mike does too?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t want to ask and seem weird.” Jonathan sighed again. He sounded tense again. “I told Will I’d tell him if I was seeing anyone… And he promised me the same.”

Steve knew not to press the obvious question-- well   are  you seeing someone, Jonathan?  -- but also didn’t want to touch the obvious implication that Will  needed  to share a secret with Jonathan. Instead, he placed his hands into his pockets and turned to lean against the counter.

“Dinner smells really good, Byers.” There was another name that began with “B” that Steve wasn’t allowed to use, but always wanted to. Byers Byers Byers. Baby baby baby. “Thank you, again, for cooking for me-- for us.”

“You think I’m going to let you starve?” His stirring slowed; the stove cooled down. He nudged Steve’s arm with the spoon. “You coming home late and trying to cook? You mean half-drinking a beer and falling asleep face down on your bed in your uniform, half unbuttoned.”

“You picture that often, Byers?” Steve lifted an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Jonathan’s lips quirked into a smile again. “But, if you’d like a beer, I think there’s one in the fridge. No one in the house is going to touch it.”

“I can go ask Will if he wants it.”

“Shut up-- do you want it or not?”

“No.” Steve didn’t like drinking when they were together. He’d never really heard the full story about where Mr. Byers went, but he had a father of his own to make those blank spaces fill pretty fast. “But thanks. Don’t want the habit of needing a beer to forget how boring my job is.”

“I thought you liked your job?” Jonathan took a piece of pasta out of the pot and held it out for Steve to test.

He chewed and answered. “I do! It’s nice to have normal hours-- and I’m happy to help have replacements as Flo gets ready to retire but… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels  boring .”

“Would you rather be chasing down a four-legged monster without a face?” Jonathan let out a bubble of genuine laughter, playfully glaring at Steve.

“Frankly, yes! At least we’d all have something to do. I feel like I don’t see everyone anymore.”

“Then throw a party. Don’t wish for anything bad to happen.” Jonathan said firmly. “Let the record show my brother is a very strange magnet for all this… weird shit.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Steve said solemnly. He put his hand on Jonathan’s forearm. “I wish we were all safely doing something exciting. It felt nice to be needed, even if no one knew it was us.”

Jonathan put the spoon down on the counter and pivoted to be looking only at Steve. There was something resting just on the tip of his tongue, just under the surface of their conversation. It would’ve been a digression-- Steve could tell by Jonathan’s tense and furrowed brow-- but he would’ve listened.

“Jonathan?” Steve squeezed his arm, lifting his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I--” He clenched his jaw, trying to swallow his words. “I think--” Steve knew there was no end to Jonathan’s sentence; merely starting it meant there was trust between them. A careful admission through omission. Steve knew Jonathan was looking at his shoes and wouldn’t be seen as he took in the secret flinches of Jonathan’s face. The crinkle by his left eye, the twitch of his mouth, double blinking--

They both jumped apart as the phone started ringing, practically shaking on the wall. Jonathan stepped away from Steve and left everything unsaid. Again.

Jonathan tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he turned to lean against the wall.

“Hello? This is--” His face changed sharply, his eyebrows furrowing. “I told you to stop bothering us. You’re lucky she’s not here to pick up the phone-- I don’t  care !” Jonathan cleared his throat and looked at Steve in a flash of uncertainty and anxiety. “I have the police here right now and if you don’t stop calling me I will send them to your house-- it’s not a threat if you’re the one bothering us. Stop. Calling.” He slammed the phone down and braced his weight against the wall with his other hand.

“Am I considered ‘the police’ now?” Steve said lightly. It was his way of letting Jonathan know he was listening, but not asking direct questions. “I’m not even allowed to have a badge.”

“It counts.” Jonathan said, letting his arms fall down by his sides. Steve stepped over and kept stirring dinner.

“Who was that?”

“No one. Can you go get the boys in the other room? Dinner’s ready.” Jonathan pushed Steve aside to hunch over the stove again.

“Sure.” Steve nodded, knowing he wasn’t seen. “Hey! You monsters hungry? Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

Dinner felt weird.

Will couldn’t help but feel like he and Mike had gotten into a fight. Talking about his dad made anything feel sticky, feel like it was violent or volatile. A second from snapping or tearing off, bouncing around the walls and echoing in Will's body. A small conversation between friends-- actually a little  understanding  between  best  friends-- felt like it had been a screaming match, all because it was cut off. There was no apology from Will. He didn't have the chance to tie it all up with an  I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, forget I said anything.

His plea sat heavy on his tongue as he talked to Steve-- who had arrived without notice-- and let Mike make him laugh so hard he nearly shot water out his nose. Will let it all happen under the tremor, the ache, of an apology. And maybe, if he was the best brother and friend he should’ve been, no problems or therapy, it would be enough of an apology.

He wasn't hungry and only ate half his serving of pasta, even though it was usually his favorite of Jonathan's recipes. He did apologize for that though, and it felt right to say aloud. Even if it was misdirected and no one heard it.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. Please come back--

Mike wasn’t tired, Will knew, but he still wanted to go to bed right after their horror movie ended. It was clear Mike hadn't been paying attention to the movie; the entire plot was that dreams were a new horror-scape for monsters to get teenagers. It wasn't too scary to Will; it just felt familiar. The villain looked different, more human, but Will knew what it felt like to dream while wide awake. To watch and be unable to do anything but scratch at the surface--

Convincing Will to get ready for bed, Mike said they’d have all day in the morning. He said that maybe he could convince his mom to let him stay over again if they don’t get all their fun in. Will knew Mike's mom probably would, if only because she felt bad for Will. But he would take the pity. A sleepover wasn't the worst thing to get from pity.

Will could still hear Mike fidgeting in his sleeping bag. He was rubbing his feet together like a cricket and twisting his wristwatch. The plastic scratched the sheer material of his sleeping bag rhythmically: back and forth. back and forth. backandforthbackandforth. It was like Mike was counting the ticks of his silent digital watch. Will began to play with his own watch, keeping it on in bed only because he'd noticed Mike hadn't removed it when they were brushing their teeth that night; apparently the watch was too good to part with.

Time though, was something Will wished he could separate himself from. He could hear the seconds scraping by now. Every moment he kept his friend awake and bored because Will was too weak or (rather and) too  everything  to stay up late again.

Therapy hadn’t even been that bad. Not really. Maybe it could be exhausting but it didn’t count because Will sat in the same spot for an hour. It wasn’t real work. It shouldn’t have counted. Will should’ve been able to hang out with his friend until sunrise, getting in trouble with his mom for being up so late. He should’ve still been a stupid, carefree kid, not a by-gone troubled teenager.

Maybe his dad had seen that from the beginning. Will's dad was always gambling, betting on baseball games he had these incredible "feelings" on. Sometimes he was wrong, but when he was right it was an amazing prediction; having the foresight no one else had. And maybe that was what it was, leaving them when he did. Maybe he saw Will wouldn’t be the second son he wanted after all. Maybe he knew of all the damage that would be done to him, the damage he would cause. Probably saw it from miles-- years-- away. And he left without a single warning to any of it.

What if his father had known? Could've known where he was when he came back into town two years ago? Not gone forever just in the lights. Just out of reach, just through the wall, Dad. What if he had known, been able to see, able to know, but wanted to leave Will Down there being possessed and enveloped and consumed and--

Will felt a chill scurry down his back. The feeling almost had legs. Too many. He felt ice cold, his body going blank-- not numb, but  blank -- for a second. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but could still feel every inch of his body, suddenly pulsing and seizing.

"Will?" Mike asked, sitting up. He gripped the end of the bed and pulled his face closer to Will's. He squinted in the darkness, feeling for Will’s hand. Will couldn’t answer, his jaw tense and breath rattling out of him. "Will, what’s wrong?"

After a (thankfully) non-awkward dinner, Steve and Jonathan washed all the dishes and let the boys watch whatever movie they wanted. Steve didn’t pay attention to what tape he put in the VRC. He was too busy thinking about the hands hidden in the warm soapy water in the kitchen sink. Neither Mike nor Will seemed too bothered by the  disgusting  amount of blood or the scary blade man on the TV. He felt no regret letting them go to bed right after the credits rolled. Jonathan had looked exhausted after putting the last dish away, and dozed off during the climax of the movie-- even slept through the high-pitched screaming.

They waited for the sound of Will’s door closing over before they got into bed.

Jonathan flopped onto his back, a pillow resting between his chest and crossed arms. Steve laid on his side, bracing his weight on his elbow. He poked at Jonathan's furrowed eyebrow lightly.

"What's the problem, Byers?"

"Nothing."

"You are not a really great liar, you do know that right?" That and Steve could still hear Robin's blasé recounting of Jonathan's distress.  Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.

Jonathan sighed and turned to look at Steve. He hated being called out. "It's about Will."

"What's wrong with Will? He seemed alright at dinner."

"Yeah, but," Another sigh. "Steve, I think my brother’s gay."

Steve's first response was swallowed and he nodded. "Okay. Okay. And, um, what's the issue with that?" He adjusted himself on the bed, hoping there was more subtlety in that.

"I can't talk to him about it. I mean," Jonathan smiled and reached to touch his face. "This is a very different thing than being fourteen and confused."

"Who says he's confused?"

"I don't mean with himself-- the rest of the world is so confusing, Steve. You see the news... I can't talk to him. I didn't grow up like that. And being with you is... Different. We dated girls before. Will... I don't know. I think he knows already."

"You think he's got feelings for--"

"Oh absolutely." Jonathan nodded, closing his eyes. "Oh, I'm so glad it's not just me who sees it."

"Hopefully Wheeler does too."

"Hey, keep your voice down, he's only a few rooms over ."

"Sorry. Sorry. Me and my big mouth " Steve rested his head on Jonathan's shoulder. "Shut me up, maybe."

"Not until my mom gets back." Jonathan said, rolling up onto his side too. "If I catch her when she comes in the door, she won't come into my room to say good night. I can't have you distracting me until then."

"Your mom is on a date. She's an adult and so are you." Steve kissed Jonathan's shoulder. "You are a working man who just finished a long day at work-- I think you can cuddle up with your boyf--" Steve choked on his own stupidity, feeling his face go red and charisma die on impact. "With me."

"I will. Once my mom is back." Jonathan kissed Steve, as if a parting promise. Only to backtrack on his words immediately. He tucked Steve’s hair back behind his ear, his hands trying not to hold his face. “No--  no . Steve, not until my mom gets back.”

“I can keep an ear out--” As Steve spoke, the power in his bedside lamp dimmed. The power hummed quietly before flickering back up. Jonathan tensed and pushed himself up in bed.

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah, it was just the light, Byers. It’s windy out tonight, maybe a tree brushed a powerline.” Steve pushed Jonathan back down to his pillow-- and back into his own skin again. “It’s  nothing  . What if I turn out the light? Your mom won’t even  see  us in here.”

“No. No, I have to wait for her.”

“What if she doesn’t come back?”

“What!” Jonathan jerked upright again.

“I  meant  what if she’s at Hopper’s or something?” Steve shrugged. “She’s an adult.”

“Steve, that’s my  mom .” Jonathan hissed, swatting at the hand resting on his shoulder.

“I  meant  because she drove there on her own. If she had some wine, maybe she stayed somewhere and is being a smart, responsible parent.” Steve soothed. “Something you don’t have to be right now. You’re not Will’s parent and you aren’t your own. Lay down, will you?”

Jonathan was reluctant, but let Steve ease him back down again. He pulled the pillow tighter to his chest and sighed, his crossed arms sinking deeper. Steve laid down beside him, nose gently touching the end of his shoulder. As he breathed, his short exhales tickled Jonathan’s skin and got him giggling. It was Steve’s secret trick; something that always worked because Jonathan didn’t know it was a pattern-- didn’t know he was ticklish.

“Sorry I was weird today.” Jonathan said suddenly. He wasn’t even grinning.

“What?” They didn’t apologize. There was no need. “You’re worried about stuff-- it’s okay.”

“No, I like our dinners. And I was so uptight. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Steve didn’t know what to do with the sentiment. “Apology accepted?”

Jonathan sighed again, blowing it out slowly between his pressed lips. “Lonnie called today.”

“L- your  dad ? Is that who was on the phone?” Steve wasn’t sure what came over him-- or his body-- as he placed an arm over Jonathan’s waist and pulled them together. There was something unspokenly intimate talking about abusive fathers while being nearly sutured together in bed, but Steve pretended he was just having problems hearing Jonathan correctly.

“Yeah.” Jonathan turned, his nose brushing Steve’s. “Said he wants custody of Will. He doesn’t trust Mom, he said.”

“How is he-- He can’t do that.”

“He’s going to try. I don't know where it came from. He still thinks he can win a case because the news says Will just  disappeared into the woods . Like he ran away from us or something.”

“Everyone knows that’s not true.”

“A court might not.” Jonathan sighed, ducking his head down. Steve resisted lifting his chin to hook it over Jonathan’s head, nestling him into his neck. He laid still, listening to his breathing and the gentle creaking of the house--

Jonathan's door was thrown open, both men sitting up quickly, ready to defend themselves and their actions. It was Mike, in his pajamas with his hair sticking out in wild curls. Will stood just behind him in the hallway looking far more awake. Stilted and untousled.

"Mike?"

"Jonathan, quick!"

"What is it?" Jonathan swung his legs around and motioned both boys to come in. "Will?" Mike pushed him into the center of the door frame, although he remained in the hallway, in the light. Will’s hand grabbed at the back of his neck. His face was blank and his eyes were distant.

"Something's wrong." Will said slowly, blinking to focus. "I feel him."

"Feel who?" Jonathan kneeled in front of Will, holding his shoulders. "Feel who, Will?"

"Dad."

[mypoisonedvine]

zemo arranged marriage where you always had a crush on him. he never paid you any attention and was always out of reach, so much more mature and older. you hear a rumor he's planning on ending the engagement, crushed you ask for just one night together so you'll at least the memories of him

so let’s not talk about how I wrote this advance and then accidentally posted it early and then had to delete it and was about to ask you to send the prompt again when I realized you sent it last week so I’m actually answering last week’s lmao

anyways this is super angsty and amazingly turned out sfw somehow

In typical fashion, you didn’t realize how desperately you loved him until you realized you could never have him.

Now that you were sobbing in the bedroom that you intended to share with him someday, you wondered how you ever could’ve thought you were lucky to be promised to him.  You were even younger and more naïve then, thinking that he could return your affections; but he was a man and you were just a girl.  Men had better things to worry about.

You’d been engaged nearly eight months now and you had barely had a conversation with your fiancé.  It made you cringe now to remember how desperate you’d been for his attention, juvenile in your repeated attempts to gain his favor.  It always backfired and he ended up further away than ever.

You gasped and jumped up when you heard the door open; he was standing there, staring at you, looking... impossible to read, as always.

“I didn’t realize you were in here,” he stated plainly.

“Well, I won’t be much longer,” you promised, defiantly wiping your tears and standing up from the bed.  “I’m going to make it easier for you, and just leave now.”

He tilted his head and you rolled your eyes.  “I hate when you do that.  Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I wish I did,” he defended.  “Have you been crying?”

“I heard you’re going to break it off,” you finally explained, and he sighed.

“Oh.”

You stormed to the dresser where you found your old luggage.  “I was just getting this, so I could pack my things from the guest room.”

It still killed you that you’d been sleeping alone in the guest room this whole time.

“I’d prefer that you didn’t leave like this,” he weakly protested, and when you tried to step past him to go back to your room, he blocked the door with his arm.

“Let me out,” you frowned.

“Not yet,” he shook his head.  “Clearly you have more to say.  I want you to say your piece before you go.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Something about the way he said it-- stern but patient, as collected as ever-- just made you fucking lose it.  How dare he be so calm as he threw you away?  How dare he ask you for anything?

You roughly shoved him in the chest, knocking him back into the hallway where you cornered him, tossing your bag aside.  “You want my piece?  Is that it?  After eight months of hell, you want to hear what I have to say?  Whatever happened to ‘stay quiet and we shouldn’t bother each other’?  What about ‘I don’t need your opinion and I have no desire for it’?  Do you remember saying those things to me?”

He nodded, “I remember.”

“For the better part of a year I had so much to say to you and no opportunity.  I wanted to tell you that I loved you, that I loved you before we were even engaged and that I’ve never loved anyone else.  I wanted to tell you how I longed for you, how much it killed me to sleep alone, how the only thing worse than imagining you alone, too, was imagining that you had someone else and that was why you kept me so far away.  I wanted to tell you that I thought myself so lucky to be your betrothed, that I dreamed of nothing more than to be your wife and that I couldn’t wait to have a family with you-- to be a family with you.”

Even though you’d been crying all day already, somehow these tears hurt the most.

“You wouldn’t even let me tell you ‘good morning.’  You’re kinder to the house staff.  Maybe that’s the worst thing... that you’re not a cruel man at all, not to anyone else, it’s just me that you hate so much.  You wouldn’t even let me tell you that I missed you.  And now... now you have the audacity to ask me what I want to say to you?!”

He looked back at you, not exactly as shocked or hurt or angry as you would’ve hoped... yes, a little stunned, but still so painfully calm.  Even now, he couldn’t give you the satisfaction of a reaction.  He just stood there, stoic and silent, like he was waiting for you to do something.  You’d never been so angry, so hurt, all at once.

“I only have one thing to say to you, Helmut,” you finished coldly.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Guess.”

He thought for a moment.  “You’re going to tell me to go fuck myself, I presume.”

You scoffed.  “Yeah, something like that.”

As you started to turn and walk down the hall in search of your bedroom to pack, his voice stopped you.  “There isn’t anyone else,” he told you.  “I slept alone.”

You knew you shouldn’t turn back, but you couldn’t help yourself.  For once he looked a little affected by it all, his expression softer and his hair having fallen out of its style and down into his face slightly.

“I longed for you, too,” he admitted, making your breath catch in your throat, “I should’ve told you, but if you turned me away I’d never recover from the heartbreak.  I thought maybe I could keep you here just to look at you, even if I couldn’t touch you or hold you... but it was too hard.  That’s why I wanted to end the engagement, to give you a chance to be with someone who could care for you like you deserved.”

His cowardice should’ve angered you and yet you began to calm down, especially as he stepped closer.  His hand reached for your arm, just the gentlest touch and it still made your heart skip.  

“I’ve been so cruel to you.  I hope if you leave now, you won’t hate me forever,” he breathed.  “Because I think I’ll love you all my life.”

Before you could stop yourself, you stood up on your toes and pulled him into a kiss, sudden and perhaps a little desperate, but relatively conservative considering how much more you really wanted.  He kissed you back, gently, just for a moment, as you felt his hands rest on your waist.

But then he pulled back and it was all over before it really began.  You didn’t open your eyes at first, afraid to see him for the last time.  “Just one night,” you whispered under your breath.

“Hm?” he asked, and you found the courage to blink your eyes open.

“Just one night,” you requested again, “to remember you by.  I’ve never wanted anyone else.”

He sighed and kissed you again, quickly, before shaking his head.  “I can’t give you that.”

Well, he’d managed to do it; he’d managed to break your heart a thousand times each day and get one twist of the knife in before he sent you away.

“I can’t just have one night,” he continued.  “If you let me hold you, I’ll never let you go.”

You breathed out shakily.  “Is that a promise?”

He smiled and trailed his fingers over yours, resting his touch on the diamond on your ring finger, the one he gave you when it all began.  “You were already promised to me.  I think it’s only fair I finally keep up on my end of the deal.”

And this time when he kissed you, it didn’t feel like a goodbye.  It felt like the beginning you’d been waiting all this time for, it felt like the chance to say everything you never did before.  And instead of one last night, you got everything you ever wished for.

[junova]

↬ 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐭 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

abstract: the one where steve finds your love letters.

pairing: au!steve x fem!reader

word count: 3K+

warnings: cussing, fluff, angst, crying, slight self-deprecation.

[author’s note]: hey guys! i’m really new to the writing scene so kind words are appreciated! srsly just testing my writing style out and wanted to just post something to motivate me to keep writing. hope u like it. <3

also thank u ari for the inspo and that bomb ass album that saved twenty-twenty. now we just need biden to get elected.

ps. don’t forget to vote! <3

Stevie,

First and foremost, I want you to know how proud of you I am. You have become the man you’ve said you become, the one I always knew you would. You have finally seen what the rest of us see.

A good man.

The soul you carry within you shines brighter than I’ve ever seen. Just for that only, I’m thankful for the time we’ve spent together. Maybe one day, I’ll be brave enough to tell you this without hiding behind the comfort of this notebook. She won’t spill my secrets, fortunate for me.

Some days you have no idea how badly I want to tell you. I think it’s on the days I discover a new fleck of green in your eyes or maybe when you show up to class with a cup of coffee for me without request.

More. More. More.

More. More. More.

It’s selfish of me, that much I know. More days than not, I would say you give too much of yourself away. Always wanting to appease everyone, you, Steven Rogers, the bridge to making the people around you happier than they walked in. Even when Bucky drags you into his nonsense bullshit, you say yes without hesitation.

I’ve got not a a clue on how you continue on, how you still remain you when you tend to spread yourself so thin. Who watches out for you? Who cares for you? Who loves the almighty, selfless Rogers?

For me, it’s much easier to pretend you carry too much on your plate than to deal with the rejection I would receive from you. You’re just too good, more than I deserve. More than I would be willing to take. I know I couldn’t possibly give you what you deserve but, I hope that one day you might see me differently. You would see me more than the light I’ve painted myself in.

Even though the shade is lovely, I want to be deeper. Deeper into you on a level which only seems unattainable at this point.

A forever friend. To be in your life, just as a friend, is an reward in itself.

But someday I hope you would love me in the same way I do. It’s all a love struck girl could do. Hope for the best, bet be prepared for the downfall.

With much love, your forever friend.

Tearing the page away from the binding of the overfilled notebook, dispensing it in the first empty drawer you could find, you abandoned the feelings as soon as the pen’s ink bleed out dry.

“You know it would just be easier to tell him how you feel.” You peaked up at the sound of her voice, before realizing she was looming over you, watching your write the letter.

Your supposed, secret letter.

“Nat, please. No.” Opening the drawer, she grabbed the letter but was surprised with just how many she found.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’ve written about him multiple times?” You sank in the soft, plush material of your seat hoping that just maybe it would begin to swallow you whole. Hopefully, fast enough were you wouldn’t have to endure the rest of the conversation. One you had been trying to avoid, for the past three years.

“It’s nothing Nat, just forget it.” Just like a Romanov, she couldn’t leave it alone. Even if she tried it was laced in her blood to see any little thing through.

“You really shouldn’t wait so long. A window might close for you, much sooner than you think.” With a curious eyebrow lifted, you felt your breath leave you.

“What does that supposed to mean?” Steve certainly deserved the best and you knew it was only time for him to figure out you would never be enough for him.

“Peggy Carter.” Peggy.

The one girl of a sea of many who had been enamored by Steve. He never really seemed to spend anytime with the women who vied for his attention, but Peggy was surely different than the rest.

Even if Steve was oblivious when it came to the advances everyone would make on him, he saw Peggy. Considering she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, she intimidated you. God, did she ever.

On numerous occasions she and Steve had gone out, and even though he assured you they were just friends you were starting to believe he was only trying to protect your feelings. As a friend.

He had never cancelled on you once for her and he would tell you if he had started to date someone, just like he had before.

Even though the entire three years you’d known him he only had one serious girlfriend and after eight months, the pair broke up and even now he still didn’t budge on why they broke up.

“Steve can do whatever he wants with her. He’s a single man. He’s gone out with her before and he’ll probably go with her again.” Then Sam was the next to speak up, dismissing the total bullshit spouting from your mouth.

“Can’t you see he doesn’t want to? The damn man follows you around like a goddamn puppy.” Okay, when did he even come in here?

“God, fuck, no he doesn’t. He would have said something by now, he’s had three years and it’s been nothing but radio silence.” With an all knowing smirk, Sam proposed a new concept into question.

“It has been three years. So, have you ever said anything to him?”

Shit. Fuck you, Wilson.

“W-Well, not exactly.” Sam didn’t have to say anything in response. You knew he was right and you hated it.

Your unwillingness still stood for you, there was just no way he actually would reciprocate your feelings.

“Listen, I think it would be really good for the both of you to air everything out. Peggy is sinking her claws in him and it isn’t too long before they get stuck. Just talk to him.” You nodded silently, but you weren’t sure if you’d ever have the courage to.

—

Emptiness.

It’s all you seemed to feel today. Following you around was a dark cloud, looming over you. Wishing you could be anywhere but your own body. Nothing in particular happened to make you deserve the feeling you were granted with. It just so happened to be one of those days.

From the moment you got out of bed — or rather stayed in bed until four in the afternoon, you felt like anything you would have done just didn’t feel enough. The feeling was fleeting, never staying for more than a day or so, but it made the day drag on. Never ending.

Your muscles sore, body aching from the lack of activity your presumed. Or maybe you had built it in your head too.

Thankfully for you, Nat was busy helping Bucky move into his new place the entire day. She asked if you wanted to help, but mentally you didn’t feel you would be useful for anyone. Simply, telling her you would hang back, claiming you had another an essay to write.

Which you did, you weren’t completely lying, but there was more than your sour mood to blame for your dismissal of social interaction.

You hated to be that girl, the one who needed the presence of men. Specifically, the company of one very beautiful, blue eyed one.

His absence in your life the past few weeks felt heavier on you than you thought it would. You knew from Sam’s intel he had been hanging out with Peggy more and more. He said the two of them were getting close, mercifully sparing you the details.

You hated it’s you’d become. A girl so damn struck over a boy who was giving his attention elsewhere. Upset you were though. Before even if he was busy between classes and his internship at the gallery, he would still text to check up on you.

Now, it was nothing but radio silence letting you draw conclusions on your own. Very, very dangerous territory for you to travel to.

Steve and you are just friends. Get. Over. It.

You thought you’d be alone the rest of the Saturday, especially since it was nearly midnight. Figuring Nat was staying over at Bucky’s and Wanda leaving earlier in early hours of the morning to see her boyfriend for the entire weekend.

Then, an incredibly drunk Steve stumbled into your quaint apartment, the thoughtfully sweetness in him blubbering out with the alcohol flooding through his system. It was like he was on overdrive. More than ready to crash at any given moment.

You had enough when Steve started shamelessly raiding your kitchen, but you remained on the couch attempting to maintain some distance between the two of you. He had a history of being incredibly handsy whenever he had bit too much to drink.

Stumbling his way over to you, almost tripping on the rug, until he was basically cuddling up to your side. His arms latched tightly around you, pulling you into him. Not spared a choice, not that you’d want one.

The security of being wrapped up to him wasn’t something you ever grew tired of. You don’t think there would ever be a time you would ever be capable of turning him away.

“I’ve missed you. It’s been too long.” His soft tone, penetrating the tiny resistance you held towards him. “Me too. I was starting to think you disappeared on me, bubba.”

“Never.” His iron grip holding so tight like he was afraid you’d slip right through.

“Is everything alright?” Trying to pull from him, but Steve seemed unable to let you go. You whispered in his ear, caressing his back.

“I think so.”

“Here, let me grab you cup of joe and some water. Okay? I’ll be right back.” Leaving him a kiss on the cheek, before heading him into the kitchen.

If you had been around him recently, perhaps you would be more in tune with how he was feeling. Then the guilt sept in.

“Sweetheart, do you know where the phone charger is? It’s not by the recliner.” You heard him shout, trying to stop your heart from hammering into your stomach.

Just make him some coffee, sober him up, until he crashes.

Steve always seemed to be a lightweight and somehow whenever he did decide to drink he always found himself routing his way into your home. You thought it was simply for accident alone. The bar he frequented at was only a few block from you.

The past few times he would just stumble into your bedroom, immediately passing out in your soft, silky sheet. Now, he seemed to have more pressing matters at hand.

“Check the drawers, Stevie. I think there’s one you left around here somewhere.” You grabbed the filters and the grounds out, brewing the coffee. Soon, with a black cup of coffee and a water bottle in hand you took note of just how quite he was being.

He was never this silent and it was freaking you out.

“Are you sure you’re o-”

Just like that.

Fuck.

Hunched over, practically on his knees, he read over the endless letters you wrote about him. Confessions never meant to be seen by him. You lost track of how many you had written over the past few years once realized how irrevocably in love with him you are.

He didn’t realize you had found him and you were suddenly paralyzed. Unaware of your presence he continued to read through them and his expression was unrecognizable. One you’d never seen from him before, and you didn’t quite know how to react.

No. He wasn’t grimacing nor did he seem to be elated either. He just stood there just like you, afraid what would happen next.

What did this mean for the two of you? Your entire relationship was purely riding on whatever happened next.

Softly, with a gentle hand, he sifted through them all like he was looking for something specifically. Steve let them fall to the hardwood floors as your shaking hands could no longer support the weight of the dainty coffee cup he had actually sculpted himself.

The glass shattering everywhere, several pieces making their way towards him, thankfully not fiercely enough to penetrate his skin.

Truly, you had never been more sorry than when he looked up at you with tears in his eyes. Threatening to spill over. Because of you.

You didn’t have to be told, you already knew.

Carefully, Steve stood up making his way over to you around the shattered mug. Still you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Simply just watching him until he was right in front of you — more silent than you’d ever seen him before.

“Those were about me. Weren’t they?” You nodded having no reason to lie other than to protect yourself from a rejection you been hoping to spare yourself from.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this. Or at all really.” Your resolve dropping instantly when Steve took a step further gripping by your hips, pulling you closer.

“Why not?” He questioned you, again. Almost like he needed a verbal affirmation of every secret he had just read.

Unintentionally, stealing your soul served for him on a silver platter.

“I know how you’d feel about me, Steve. It’s not how I want it to be and it’s okay.” You remove yourself from him, traveling to the other side of the living room. Suddenly, the apartment seemed suffocating with him in it. “I’m fine, Steve.”

Hearing him sigh in frustration only furthered your immense feeling of being a burden to him.

You’re just one more obstacle he has to deal with.

“One of them dated back for over two years ago. Two fucking years.” His harsh tone, piercing through you like a knife.

“I know. I should have told you.” You whispered, wishing you could disappear into any abyss that would take you. Deeply wishing you just didn’t have to endure for the rest of this conversation. Wishing you could have stopped him from opening that stupid drawer. “I tell you everything, but I just couldn’t bring myself to speak about this. Look at how you’re reacting? How could you blame me when every fear I have about this is justified?”

You really should have kept those elsewhere, not your open, public living room.

“Because it’s us. I’m always here for you.” He was still crying through broken words and you didn’t know why. Almost like you had shattered his resolve and his control leaving with it.

“Not lately. You’ve been otherwise occupied.” Suddenly find the plant in the corner of the room. It certainly weren’t trying to distract yourself from the insatiable cerulean eyes.

The breathtaking british woman wasn’t even here and as soon as she was brought up — there was a wall. Seperating, you from whatever was between the two of you.

“This isn’t my fault. You never said anything. How was I supposed to know you feel that way about me?” He tried to make his way towards you but you just stalked off in the other direction. Circling around the living room like a coward.

“It didn’t matter though, did it? You found someone perfect for you regardless of how you feel.” God, you wish he would just leave so you could let the dam break.

“No. You don’t get to do that. Since the moment I met you I only had eyes for you, but you never seemed like you were interested. So, I dropped it. Okay? You never left me a crumb to think you would ever want to be more than just friends.”

“You were my best friend. You still are. No matter how I felt, it could never outweigh the need I have for you to be in my life.” He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. Trying to figure out what was next for the both of you. Steve always had to initiate and this time was no different.

“Peggy told me tonight she wants to be exclusive.” His confession washing over you like a ton of bricks. Crushing you.

You really couldn’t have any ill feeling towards her, she was just doing what you lacked the courage and the tenacity to do.

“But I didn’t really know what to do.” He took quiet steps towards you, not wanting to spook you. He voice not no longer held the a warmth of teddy bear, but a man on a mission rather took over.

Steve kept quiet until he had you backed up into a corner, no escape route in vision for you.

“’Cause there’s this other beautiful woman, absolutely breathtaking — and I just I really needed to know how she felt. If I had known before,  I never would have gone anywhere else.” His hand caressing your soft, plump lips. Pulling on your bottom lip with his thumb, sending you into a frenzy.

“Then, I just wanted to forget about everything until Sam called me. Three beers deep, when he told me of a drawer filled with letters I should take a look at.” You could feel his breath on you, temple pressed against yours.

“I just need to hear you say it. Just once.” Taking it a step forward, intertwining your finger with his own.

“I love you.” It was all he needed as he sealed his own affirmation with a sweet kiss, inking your lips with all of his love.

[lupismaris]

Blackberry Crepes- silverflintham black sails modern au ficlet

(i saw a few posts about how love is sharing food and making breakfast for your loved ones and lets just say this is part 1 of a series in which Flint cooks for his loved ones when saying i love you might not be enough)

Sleep was something of a stranger to Silver. He liked to joke that he didn’t need it, that he could just cat nap for half an hour here and there, and be good for a few days, that he was just built different, the perks of life on the run and never having a real routine. But in truth he’d push himself until his body gave out and he slept for 18 hours and woke up feeling like death warmed over. That was the only way he’d be able to get any real sleep. Pushing himself to the point of exhaustion, or, as he had eventually learned with Flint and Thomas, getting well and truly laid until his brain shut off and his body felt like lead.   He preferred the latter, of course, but it still wasn’t something he felt he could readily ask for. Especially when it wasn’t enough to keep his mind quiet. Dreams, nightmares, they’re funny things. You can think you’re too tired to dream and then on your way into an REM cycle you get blind sided by the most vivid night terror you’ve had in the past three months. You could be napping on the couch when the phantom limb starts acting up and your mind conjures memories of when you lost it or just vague ideas of what life would be like if you hadn’t and you wake up unable to tell which is worse. You could be strung out and coming down from an orgasmic high and then feel your stomach drop when you finally fall asleep and your mind tells you it isn’t safe, jolting you violently back to consciousness. Or you could be dozing in the early morning hours, the way Silver had been, after a good night, a genuinely good night, and find yourself halfway between deep sleep and waking, faced with fears you’d buried so far deep you hoped they’d suffocate. They’d gone to dinner, on a date even. Flint and Thomas had made a point to be home and get dressed up and take him out on the town and pay complete attention to him, like he was just a normal lover and not, well, himself. It was still an adjustment for him, this idea that he could just have this, a normal relationship with men who actually wanted him, where using each other wasn’t part of it, where the end game wasn’t someone’s bank account or an act of violence, where there wasn’t even an end game to consider. By the end of July the charms of summer had started to wear thin, even for Silver, and he was tired of the heat and the mirror like cage of the city, he was tired of the long days and the long conversations and the longer shadows on the blistering asphalt. He was tired of the haze that made his mind question what was and wasn’t real, despite knowing what was. It left him on edge and he knew Flint could tell, no matter how hard he worked to hide it. If Thomas knew, he was at least polite enough not to give it away. Dinner had been lovely. A little Spanish place by the promenade, followed by a short walk since the evening was cooler than expected and a breeze of the Hudson meant it was almost blissful. There had been wine and Flint’s homemade limoncello tarts when they got home and endless lazy kisses and one of them always touching him as if trying to keep him tethered. There had been sex, great sex, not that Silver had ever had bad sex with the pair of them (the smug rotten bastards), but the kind where Silver had been able to let go and drown in it for a while, let someone else carry the load, and do the thinking for a while. It still hadn’t been enough.

Silver sighed, a cloud of smoke curling around his face as he watched the rooftops shift and glimmer in the faded teal skies of four am, his second cigarette of the hour dangling somewhat carelessly from his fingers. He had tried, valiantly he felt, to stay in bed with Flint and Thomas, to sleep curled up with them the way Flint always hoped he would after sex. Some nights it worked and he’d wake up when Flint went for his blasphemous morning run. Most nights though he’d wait until Thomas was out cold and snoring like a bear, then kiss Flint goodnight, and slip back to his room next door. He’d fallen asleep tucked into Flint’s chest, with Flint’s arm around him and the deep rumble of his breathing filling his ears. Thomas was spooned up behind Flint, clinging to his husband like a child and snoring loudly, but that too was somehow comforting. He was safe, he was loved, he was home. And suddenly the next thing Silver knew he was choking on nothing and fighting the air, sitting bolt upright in bed with a wordless, noiseless scream of fear. The only saving grace was that it didn’t wake the others, Thomas still sound asleep and curled up under the covers, Flint spooned up behind him, years younger in sleep, a different man. Silver had sat there shaking for some time, half an hour, five minutes, he couldn’t be sure. Once he could breathe without wheezing and his hands had stopped shaking violently, he steadied himself and slipped out of bed, grabbing his crutch from where it rested dutifully against the nightstand. There wasn’t much he was good at in life, but John Silver had always been good at running. This wasn’t any different. Now, he was wrapped in an old blanket, hidden away on the roof where he’d been putting together his own little makeshift garden. Plants that he’d found half dead or dying on the curb, abandoned succulents from friends, houseplants he found on discount at the hardware store that he’d barter down to a dollar. He liked the distance heights gave him, always had, was always climbing things as a kid to try and get a better view, try to hide away from prying eyes. It was harder now that he had the prosthetic, but the elevator could take him up to the loft, and the stairs to the roof weren’t too steep, so he could manage them with his crutch. It wasn’t that he didn’t love the little patch of green paradise that Flint and Thomas had nurtured down below, he loved it and the time they spent there. But this- this little scrap of roof top, with it’s homemade shelves of plywood and resurrected plants, was his. Silver took another drag from his cigarette and watched a flock of pigeons shift their course in flight, heading west towards Manhattan where the morning crowds were no doubt slowly beginning to stir. Even on Saturdays, the city got a bright and early start if it ever truly decided to rest. He could hear tidbits of conversation from his perch, voices carried up to him like secrets as their owners walked past, heading home from work, from a night out, leaving home to go to work, whatever their little lives demanded, existing in spite of themselves, for themselves. Cars hummed past, cabbies and uber drivers trying to catch the last of the club goers as they left the bars in search of a trip home, picking up the true early bird tourists as they tried to beat the others to some absurd event or another. He could even hear music, someone’s window open on their block he thought, and the faint repetitive sound of a piano as they worked through their scales. Maybe he wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping. The neighborhood would be well and truly awake soon. The running group would be on the corner waiting for the stragglers, hitting the asphalt by five am. The store fronts and bodegas would start opening up around six, the bars by eight if they served brunch, and the world would come to life at Silver’s feet. He had until then to quiet the noise in his head and remember how to put his mask back on. The sound of the door nearly gave him a heart attack. He thought for a moment that maybe, if he kept still, he’d go unnoticed, they the sparse shelves and plants and the blanket might hide him well enough that Flint, because it was always Flint, would go back down stairs and go for his morning run and leave him well enough alone. But he knew better. “Do I want to know how long you’ve been up here?” came the sleep heavy rumble of a voice. “Depends on whether you want to be disappointed this early in the morning,” Silver replied dryly. And there it was, the telltale sigh of disappointment, because Flint was going to be disappointed no matter what answer he got. “Silver-” “I don’t want to do this right now.” “Do what?” Silver sighed and rubbed at his eyes. He heard Flint move across the roof, the soft footsteps of bare feet on the weatherproof matting slow and well chosen, stopping next to him. “This thing you do where you try and bully answers out of me. I don’t fucking feel up to these games, alright? I just- I don’t,” Silver said, risking a look upwards. Flint was shirtless, as he always was when fresh out of bed, but he’d pulled on a pair of old sweatpants before going to look for Silver. He’d left his hair loose, the rich copper strands hanging in a curtain around the left side of his face, the shaved under cut peaking out along the right. Silver could still see the pillow prints on his cheek, and his beard was disgruntled and unbrushed the way it rarely was when he left the house. Silver loved him like this, he loved Flint always, but there was something about Flint like this, soft and at ease, bare chested and vulnerable that managed to settle even the worst of Silver’s deep seated insecurities. Because who else got to have Flint like this? Who else but Silver and Thomas got Flint at his gentlest? They looked at each other for a moment, Flint frowning softly with his hands on his hips and Silver wrapped up in his blanket, saying nothing, saying everything they could. Then Flint sighed and sat down next to him. “I’m not here to bully you,” he said gently, taking the cigarette that Silver was neglecting. “You were gone when I woke up, thought I’d check on you,” He paused, relighting the cigarette with his trusty old lighter, “but as you were not in your room I figured something was bothering you and you’d be either working in the office or up here.” “You didn’t have to check on me.” “It was for my sake, not yours.” Silver smiled faintly, his eyes stinging from what he hoped was just exhaustion but was probably tears. He didn’t look at Flint, just blinked them away and watched the sky lighten little by little as Flint finished the cigarette. “You know that’s not what I’m doing, right?” Flint asked after a few minutes of silence. “Whats not what you’re doing?” “Bullying you.” “I mean it’s kinda what you do.” “Is that how you see it?” Flint wasn’t looking at him. He was reaching for the French enamel cigarette case that was sitting next to Silver, one he’d stolen in Monaco several lives before, and lighting another cigarette. Silver watched him, a little wistful, and incredibly exhausted all at once. “No.” He said. “Yes. Depends on when you try and do it I guess.” That got a low hum from Flint, smoke filling the air for a moment in a pensive cloud. Silver waited, oddly tense, hoping that Flint would listen to him, and not try and play one of their fucked up little games so early in the morning. They were doing really well these days, not playing any games at all, having real, honest conversations like well adjusted adults who hadn’t done all the awful things they’d done, to each other, to others. But sometimes it was so much easier to just be awful to each other, to fall back into the old way of doing things. “I only check on you to know you’re still here,” Flint said finally. “I only ask if you’re alright because if I can fix it, I want to. I don’t care if you lie to me about what had you out of bed this morning. I don’t give a shit if you never tell me the names of your ghosts, I’ve told you that a dozen times, I know you remember that as well as you remember the names of my own ghosts.” Silver did remember, both the ghosts, and the plaintive way Flint had asked him to trust whatever it was they had between them. “I just want to know you’re still here. That you’ve not gone running off again. That you’ll run to me next time this,” he waved at the rooftop and the skyline as if encompassing all of Silver’s faulty coping methods, “fails and you’re out at sea. I just- I ask those questions to reassure myself, alright?” He paused, taking another drag from the cigarette, tipping his head back with a heavy sigh. Silver could see the age starting to show on his face again, in the soft lines around his eyes, the firm set of his mouth, the scars on his nose and throat, the endless sea of freckles, the faded ink of his tattoos, the streaks of gray in his beard. Before his eyes, the man he loved, his Flint, was appearing, returning to flesh and blood from the land of dreams. “You’re not the only one who’s scared, pup,” Flint added, finally turning his head and catching Silver looking at him. The sea green of Flint’s eyes always seemed to hook Silver, regardless of whether he wanted them to. They could be the deep inky black full of secrets or the still gray of quiet waters, it didn’t matter- if Flint looked at him, soft and open and endlessly patient the way no one else was, Silver would eventually break. Flint knew it, but so far, he never seemed to abuse the power he held. Silver smiled faintly. With a soft groan he shifted onto his knees, loving the way Flint’s hands immediately reached to steady him whether he needed it or not, and crawled into Flint’s lap, straddling his hips and wrapping the worn blanket around them both. He took the cigarette from Flint’s lips and stubbed it out in the ashtray, as Flints hands settled like an anchor, warm and sure, at the small of his back. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, old man,” Silver said, brushing Flint’s hair out of his eyes, “I promised you were stuck with me. No amount of nightmares are gonna change that.” He kissed Flint softly, smiling at the low rumbling purr it got him, at the way Flint’s hands pulled him closer, spread wide on his back. It was a soft, innocent thing, no heat, no hunger, and that too was still something novel to Silver, that he could have this innocent kind of intimacy with someone, with a man like Flint. He craved it as much as he craved the wilder side of love and was grateful that Flint seemed happy to satisfy both moods whenever they arose. “Good,” Flint said, once the lazy kiss broke and Silver tucked his face into Flint’s shoulder with a happy sound. “Because while I would absolutely give chase, I’d rather not have Thomas trailing after us as well. You know the kind of trouble he gets up to, just imagine him trying to find you.” Silver snorted with an undignified burst of laughter. “No, god, he’d be impossible.” “Exactly. I’d have my hands full just trying to keep him in one piece. I’ve got enough gray hair as it is, pup, don’t go giving me anymore before my time, alright?” Flint lifted his chin as Silver’s fingers petted the gray streaks in his beard, letting out another soft rumbling sound. “Alright. Though I do think it’s sexy.” “Yeah yeah, you’ve made that perfectly clear,” Flint kissed the top of Silver’s head, nuzzling his messy curls. “C’mon, why don’t we head inside, I think it’s a reasonable time for coffee.” “What about your run? Your awful five am morning ritual I can almost never talk you out of even for a blow job.” “I feel like skipping this morning.” Silver lifted his head, leveling Flint with a skeptical look and a raised eyebrow. Flint returned it with a fond smile. “Its Saturday, I feel like making breakfast,” Flint said with a shrug. I love you, Silver heard. “Can we have blackberry crepes? And scrambled eggs?” Silver asked after a moment. “And that fancy bacon you got from the farmer’s market?” Flint smiled, still fond and impossibly warm. Silver’s heart skipped, flipped, and settled in his chest. Flint had heard the unspoken, skittish, and undeniable “I love you too” tucked into Silver’s reply. Flint coaxed him into another soft kiss, still wearing that same smile.

  “Blackberry crepes it is.”

[bunny-hoodlum]

Asynchronous With You: Ch 5

ship: naruhina

rating: teen (maybe mature later)

tags: Modern Day AU, Foster Siblings, Family, Angst, Unrequited Love, Poor Communication/Noncommunication, Found Family

summary: An awkward journey full of self-denial and missed moments between two foster siblings. Perhaps their love will find the right timing someday.

Neji met them outside the dorm gates. As generous as his dorm-mate Lee was, he couldn't ask him to step out for their sake.

They followed Neji to a nearby linear park that segregated the school grounds from the business park on the other side. It felt like a glass-less greenhouse, with polished granite beneath their feet and a vine-carpeted roof overhead. The benches were slabs of granite, as were the other fixtures, like an orb fountain in the center, with flawless skin of water running over its surface. The full trees muffled the night, with its crickets and distant chugging cars. The gentle, steady trickle contrasted against their footsteps, like two off-tempo drums and hers a mournful castanet.

Now that they were finally here, she was beginning to lose her nerve, she was forgetting what she had to complain about.

All that mattered was that she was healthy, right? All that mattered was that they were actually taking good care of her.

But the last thing she said to her, telling her to go home, saying that at least one of them should be loved by their parents, it began to eat at Hinata.

Could it be that she doesn't have any love to come home to?

Like resonance, her soul trembled and her ribs ached. The heel of her palm pressed against the skin between her wet eyes.

"I've become like them. I messed up."

The bench caught her before she could sink down to the ground.

"What're you talking about?" came Naruto's voice, barely reaching her ears.

"You mean Aunt and Uncle?"

Hinata nodded.

"What??" Naruto smacked his forehead rather hard. "How were you supposed to act?! They knew where you were! Nothing was stopping them from taking you guys back--"

"We don't know that." Hinata argued.

"Bullshit!"

"We don't," Her shoulders lifted, turning rigid. "They could barely take care of the two of us. It would've been the same if they had to take care of two daughters--"

"What about visits? What's so hard about keeping in touch?!"

She stayed silent. It wasn't that she hadn't considered that, it was that it was too upsetting to ruminate on any deeper.

"Ten years, Hinata. They had to have lied to her, right? Raised her believing she was an only child? C'mon, why aren't you angrier about this?!"

She wasn't sure if it was defiance that lifted her chin, but the eyes she chose to meet were Neji's as she implored him join in.

His eyes closed as he released a pensive sigh. "What's she like?"

"Don't change the subject," Naruto snapped. "Hinata needs to vent."

She prodded Neji with her stare. He shook his head.

"Who are you talking about?" Neji punctuated his rhetoric with a sidelong glance, causing Naruto to bristle. "This Hinata?"

"Yeah, this Hinata. Our Hinata. What the fuck, we've shared the same home for ten years! Hinata! You vent! You vented the other month about your-your shirt!" His face reddened as he brought up, perhaps, the worst example he possibly could.

"I was in a weird mood," Hinata said quickly, giving Naruto whiplash.

"A--A 'weird' mood?! What, like you just felt like messing with me kind of 'weird'??"

Hinata lamely shrugged her shoulders before curling in on herself like an armadillo. She could only imagine how exponential his irritation was to increase. She should've answered Neji's question right away instead of trying to convey her complaints to Neji, because now they were getting way off topic. Which was ironic for Naruto, who thought Neji was the one diverting attention away from her pain.

Neji pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what the story is, and I don't think I want to know."

"Good. 'Cuz I don't want to talk about it." Naruto huffed as he crossed his arms.

Silence lapsed around them. Somehow Hinata was rather surprised their arguing managed to fizzle out on its own and so quickly. The past was almost laughable in how different it was from the present.

'That's right. It's always going to be rocky at first, but it takes time to get used to one another.' This was proof that she and Hanabi could grow into sisters no matter how much time had been lost.

"Her name's Hanabi. Her favorite foods are bananas and milk, and she hates the herb mitsuba. She's cheerful, cheeky, and surprisingly athletic. And... I really want to get to know her better." The tears fell swifter and harder on her lap as she re-conjured the heartbroken betrayal she had put on Hanabi's face.

She really hoped it wasn't too late.

Neji joined her side and rubbed her back, while Naruto kept his distance.

Even though he had been given Neji's explicit blessing years before, somehow it didn't feel appropriate for him to console her too.

Looking at them now, it was like those two had never grown apart, not even a centimeter. And they had been communicating with their eyes, he was sure of it. Speaking around him, because he wasn't actually a part of this.

They're what real siblings look like.

________________________

Taking the midnight train back home, Naruto spent the next thirty minutes absorbed in the things that amused him, from sexy two-minute shorts, to prank compilations and this one guy from Kaminari that totally bites at rapping. Absolutely no one, neither he nor his 745k followers know if he's a comedy channel where he's bad on purpose, or if he's just gotten popular for all the wrong reasons, but watching him never fails to inspire a deep gut-laugh from Naruto.

Because he wouldn't be laughing this hard if something was bothering him, especially not a whole host of somethings.

He ignored how arriving at their station didn't feel quite right, how following Hinata didn't feel normal.

He was surprised when she finally started talking to him, yet the weariness her voice instilled was not lost on him.

"Who was the first girl you liked?"

"Hm? Oh, guess that'd be Sakura-chan."

"I see. And how old were you when you knew?"

"Eight, I guess?"

"Eight," The number floated from her mouth in an amazed whisper, "Do you think somebody already likes Hanabi-chan?"

A blond brow perked up. "Is this that protective Onee-san instinct kicking in already?" When she giggled, his heart sank.

"I suppose it is."

And when the silence closed in on him again, he spoke up to keep it going. "Uh, what about you?"

Her steps faltered for a second, then picked up with an exaggerated bounce. "There's someone."

"Still? Like, ongoing?"

"Mmhm."

Naruto blinked rapidly, whiplash striking again. How? How did he not know his sister liked someone? "Since when?"

"Mmmm," She hummed that note a little too long that bordered on mocking him, and he was about to storm on ahead of her, until she said, "Third grade."

"What?!" Ineloquent as that was, he somehow expected her to answer him. He stood there as she traipsed away, waiting until he was finally fed up. "Well, who the fuck is it?!"

"Guess."

He jogged after her. "Kiba?" His mouth soured at the thought.

She crossed her forearms into an 'X', making the buzzer sound in game shows when the contestant got the answer wrong. "Bubuu."

"Shino?" He didn't know what to think about that if it were true. Guess they were both quiet and smart and a little weird. Is that what compatibility looks like?

"Bubuu," she went again.

What other guys was she in contact with?

Shikamaru was a good friend who came over to game sometimes, but he definitely didn't sense anything there. No, no way it could be him. And everyone was pretty sure Sai was asexual.

"Sasuke?" Why not? He was the school heartthrob nine years running. Didn't matter whether Naruto understood the taste of girls or not, they all wanted him. He kinda wishes he noticed sooner now, because he imagining a plain girl like her pining for someone unreachable and he really hates that for her. When she slows to a stop under the streetlamp, he thinks he's finally figured it out, though the truth ended up being really anticlimactic in the end.

She half-turns towards him, her face blank save for the edge of distaste clinging to the corners of her lips and eyes.

"Gross."

He reeled back. "Gross? Whaddya mean gross?" She continued on her way, forcing him to jog after her. "Hey, I can't believe you think he's gross! Are you just being a contrarian?" Her pace picked up faster. "Y'know, like what unpopular girls do when they can't fit in?"And faster. "You really think he's gross?" She was hurrying on ahead and he was trying to catch a glimpse of her face, just a little bit of veracity. "Hinata?!"

They arrived at the steps of their apartment.

"You have until graduation to guess!" She called over her shoulder as she ran ahead, her voice pitching high at the end.

She was upset.

Her footsteps resounded through the corridors like frantic clapping, but he wasn't being congratulated at all.

It was finally apparent to him that he hasn't paid attention to Hinata in a long, long time. That's why Neji was making fun of him.

He took the elevator to their apartment, and when he reached the hole between their bedrooms, he got down on both knees and crouched his spine. They haven't used this in years, he couldn't believe how small they used to be, this hole had to be over three feet from the floor. It was making his back hurt. "Hinata," He bit his tongue with a pause. "What happens if I can't guess by graduation?" Nothing. Just silence. "Hinata? Are you not going to talk to me anymore?"

"Yeah," If a ghost could croak, that's what it sounded like. "If you can't guess by graduation, I'm not going to talk to you anymore."

He palmed the wall as he drew to full height, then stepped away, neither urgency nor insult registering in his chest. He didn't know what was in there. Maybe nothing. He raised his voice a little, just enough so that she could hear.

"I'm going to take this another weird mood of yours, okay? There's no way you really mean that."

Hovering for half a second more, he didn't give her time to respond as he headed for his bed on the opposite side of the room.

Maybe Sakura had the right idea about family. Maybe it's better to just find your own.

________________________

AN: Lel, I totally forgot to add the summary and ratings thing in the last chapter. 😜😅 Hope you liked this one!

[marvelsmylife]

You don’t always get what you want

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader, Steve Rogers x reader

Plot: ever since he came back from wakanda bucky went back to his old dating ways from the 1940’s. He considers changing his ways when the reader join the team and he asks her on a date. Unfortunately the reader turn him down and tell him they’ll never date him because he’s a player. As a way to cope with the rejection Bucky starts sleeping with a slew of women in an attempt to make the reader jealous. Things get complicated for Bucky when he discovers his best friend asked the reader on a date and she agreed.

A/n let me know if you guys want a part two where Bucky and Wanda’s relationship blossoms.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t used to hearing the word no, especially when it came to asking a girl out on a date. That’s why he was in complete shock when you turned him down when he asked you out on a date. He had a confused look on his face and asked “can you tell me why you’re rejecting me?”.

When you first joined the team you heard from multiple females from the team to avoid Bucky. They told you that ever since he arrived from Wakanda Bucky slept with a different woman every other day. “Your the type of guy I’m trying to avoid dating” you answered honestly.

You tried to walk away but Bucky grabbed your arm “and what type of guy am I?” Bucky asked defensively.

“The guy that fucks a different girl every night of the week and never calls her back” you replied and caused an ache in Bucky’s chest. Yes he’s slept around before you joined the team but he was looking to change that if you guys started dating. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a lunch date with Natasha and Wanda” you got out of Bucky’s grasp and walked out of the room.

Bucky started bringing back random girls every night of the week since day you rejected him as an attempt to make you jealous. What he wasn’t counting on was you making friends with his one night stands the morning after. He would get mad that you would compliment his them on their dresses or shoes and would ask his one night stands to leave before you exchanged numbers with them.

After two months straight of Bucky bringing home random girls Steve pulled you aside and asked how you were handling what Bucky was doing. “I’m great Steve. I know he’s doing it on purpose because I turned him down but the joke is on him because I’ve become good friends with some of his one night stands”.

It was funny, you would occasionally run into Bucky’s one night stands in the street. After breaking the news that Bucky wasn’t going to call them back you would offer to buy them lunch. By the end of your lunch date with them you would be talking as if you knew them your whole life. “You are something else y/n y/l/n” Steve smiled at you “hey can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can steve” you replied while you wiped off the sweat that was dripping down your face.

“Why did you turn down Bucky?” Steve asked the question that’s been eating him alive since Bucky told him you turned him down.

“He’s a player” you responded “I’ve dated a lot of guys like Bucky in the past and after my most recent break up I promised myself I was never going to date of them again. I want to date a nice guy who buys me flowers because he wants to and not just so he can get in my pants.”

“I can be that guy” Steve replied and got closer to you “I know I’m breaking as tony would say ‘bro code’ but I really like you and I was going to ask you out before Bucky.”

You were at a loss for words because you heard Steve was dating sharon “I though you and Sharon were together?”

“God that fucking rumor will never die” Steve let out a small laugh and shook his head no “no Sharon and I are not dating. She’s one of my best friends but that’s it, in fact she’s been in a loving relationship with ted from accounting for the past three years. I guess because I had a history with her great aunt Peggy and I make sure she’s ok when we’re out on mission people assume we’re dating.”

“Oh my god I’m so sorry I-” your face grew hot from embarrassment.

“It’s ok” Steve laughed “but now that you know I’m single will you accept my invitation to go on a date with me? I promise I’m a really nice guy.”

You contemplated whether you wanted to go on a date with Steve. Yes he was an extremely attractive man with a heart of gold but he was also best friends with the guy you rejected and you didn’t want to be the cause for their friendship to end. “Ok but can we go on the date tonight? I have to go on a mission tomorrow and I won’t be back till Monday.”

“Yes of course I can ! !” Steve exclaimed “I’ll see you later” Steve gave you a side hug before he left to plan your date.

The date wasn’t fancy at all but you loved it. He took you to a diner he used to go all the time in the 1940’s and stargazing outside the compound. He apologized that it wasn’t fancy but you reassured him that you loved it. By the end of the date Steve had you pinned to your door as you guys made out. “As much as I want to continue kissing you, I have to go. I have to be up at seven so I can get ready for my mission tomorrow” you panted when Steve broke the kiss and started kissing your neck.

“Ok but come find me when you’re about to leave so I can say goodbye” Steve gave you one last kiss before left.

After that day you and Steve started dating exclusively. Everyone was happy for you guys because they thought you guys were the perfect couple and would gush whenever you show affection towards each other. The only problem was that Steve didn’t know how to tell his best friend that he was dating the girl that rejected him. He spent the four months that Bucky was away thinking of how to break the news.

On the day Bucky was arriving you and Steve were in the living room watching a movie “Bucky comes home today” Steve commented out of the blue.

“It’s going to be ok” reassured him and placed a kiss on his lips.

“But what if he hates me because we’re dating” Steve sighed.

Not liking your boyfriend upset you moved so you were straddling him “steve it’s going to be ok” you repeated.

“You’re right, you’re always right” Steve leaned in and kissed you.

Unfortunately for you and Steve, Bucky walked in on you guys just as you guys started making out. He watched as Steve’s hands disappeared under your dress “are you kidding me ! ! !” Bucky shouted and caused you and Steve to pull away.

“B-b-buck I-” steve stammered.

“You’re dead to me Rogers” Bucky growled at Steve before he stormed out of the room.

Since that day Bucky started being an asshole to Steve. He would make remarks about how not even his best friend since his childhood was loyal to him. You knew those remarks were getting to Steve so you asked him if he wanted to breakup “no! I love you and I would rather hear Bucky call me names than to lose you.” Steve kissed you cheek and caused you to feel even more guilty because you knew you were ruining their friendship.

After weeks of Bucky constantly talking shit to Steve you cornered him in the training room and gave him a piece of your mind. “What the fuck is your problem Barnes! Why are you treating your best friend like shit” you yelled at him.

“Because he stole my girl !” Bucky yelled back.

You started laughing at Bucky’s excuse “are you fucking kidding me Barnes ! ! ! I was never your girl. You asked me out on a date and I turned you down.”

“But I loved you first” Bucky his hair out of frustration.

“You’re not in love with me. You’re making yourself think that because I’m the first girl to turn you down” Bucky closed his eyes at your harsh words. You started to walk away but stopped and added “you can be an asshole to me all you want, but don’t be an asshole to Steve. Whether you believe me or not Steve still cares about you and thinks of you as his brother” with that you walked away.

Bucky didn’t speak to you for eight months after your argument in the training room. In that time span Bucky made up with Steve and told him he was sorry for his actions. He told him that although it pained him to see you to together that he was happy that steve was finally happy.

Also in that time span, yours and Steve’s relationship was stronger than ever. Sure you had arguments but you guys had a rule to never go to bed angry so you guys would make up by the end of the day. Bucky would comment on how that was a good rule to have in a relationship and that Steve was to have you in his life. He would also say how he wished he could find someone like you to call his girlfriend “you’ll find her” Steve reassured his friend before he reached inside his pocket. “Hey can I share something with you?”

“Sure pal” Bucky looked at him confused.

“Don’t tell anyone but” Steve pulled out the small box and opened it “I’m going to propose to y/n tomorrow night.”

Bucky was at a loss for words as he stared at the tiny ring in the box “wow congratulations!”

“I know it’s not much but-”

“She’s going to love it.” Bucky assured his friend. “So how are you going to propose?” Steve explained to Bucky that he was going to propose at your favorite restaurant and when you guys came back all of your friends and family would be there to celebrate. “Ouch Stark knew you were going to propose before me ? ! ? !” Bucky pretended to be hurt.

Steve started to laugh and replied “sorry pal but Tony needed to know so he could set everything up”.

“Haha that’s ok. Do you need help with anything?”

“No it’s ok. Just having you at the party his enough. I having to go meet with tony though so I’ll see you later” Steve patted Bucky’s shoulder before he left to search for Tony so they can go through the plan one more time.

Steve was sweating bullets the following night during your date. He kept tapping his foot and looked around anxiously “babe are you ok?” you asked in a concerned tone.

He was going to reply but the sound of his phone going off stopped him. Steve let out a sigh of relief when he checked his phone and read the texted tony sent him that everyone had arrived at the compound for them. “Yes I’m ok, actually I’m more than ok” Steve stood up and reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. “Y/n I love you with all of my heart and I know you love me so I was wondering” your breath hitched when you noticed steve getting down on one knee and opened the small box. “Y/n y/l/n will you marry me?”

“YESSS” you shouted and earned awes from the people in the restaurant before they started clapping. “Oh my god it’s beautiful” you looked down as Steve slipped the ring on your finger.

You guys spent another half hour in the restaurant celebrating with a complimentary bottle of champagne before you guys made your way back to the compound.

“Hey. I just wanted to congratulate you on your engagement and to say I was sorry for the way I treated you and Steve. You were right when you said that I wasn’t in love with you.” Bucky gave you a lopsided smile.

“Thank you Bucky and I know you’ll meet the girl who will make you happy the way Steve makes me. Maybe you’ve already met her but because you busy being a meanie you completely ignored her” you motioned to Wanda who was sitting with Clint by the bar. “She really is a nice girl and I think she going to be good to you” you gave him a hug before you made your way to your fiancé.

Bucky had a smile on his face as he watched you and steve pose for photos before he looked over at Wanda and noticed she was alone. “Is this seat taken” Bucky asked and Wanda shook her head no. “By the way you look gorgeous in that dress. Is it new?” Bucky complimented Wanda while he continued to check her out.

“Thank you and yes, I bought it last week” Wanda blushed and sent him a shy smile.

A part of him wanted to take her to the nearest closet and fuck her but your words replayed in his mind “do you want to go somewhere quiet to talk” Wanda gave him an amused look and cause Bucky to explain what he meant “we’ve been teammates for years but I don’t know anything about you. Please tell me everything about you.”

Wanda noticed that Bucky was being genuine “ok let’s talk outside” Wanda sent Bucky a warm smile before they left arm and arm out of the party.

[lockefanfic]

Business Trip: 780 Days

Parts One, Two, and Three of the Nayeon prequels.

---

Day 3: 

On your first date Im Nayeon reaches over and swipes the two pieces of delicious-looking salmon sashimi off the wooden tray of sushi the waiter had just placed in front of you.

“I love salmon,” she says.

Her theft complete, she takes two pieces of tamago sushi from her own tray and places them on yours. It was clearly meant to be some sort of payment or compensation for the grand theft sushi that had just been committed in front of your very eyes - a deal you were clearly on the losing end of.

You look up at her, still a little dumbfounded at her brashness during a first date, when most people were often overly concerned with being on their best manners and presenting the best version of themselves that they could. But here she was, swiping the two most delicious - and expensive - pieces of sushi from you, uncaring of your say in the matter.

You are about to open your mouth and start a tirade about how unjust and unfair this transaction was for you, when she gives you a smile - toothy and gummy, not a hint or remorse on her adorable features. 

The prominence of her two front teeth remind you a little bit of those of a rabbit. You smile back despite how surprised you were by her sushi theft.

This probably wasn’t going to last very long.

Day 7:

ImNayeon says: I had a good time last week :)

You say: So did I!

ImNayeon says: I owe you some salmon I guess. Free on Friday?

You sigh out loud as you receive her text. You didn’t have the best of first dates. You didn’t have much in common, she seemed a little more straightforward than you would’ve liked, and you weren’t sure you were over the entire sushi theft thing. 

She was cute, though, and that smile - that damn smile.

You didn’t know it at the time, but as you type your response a smile has crept onto your lips.

You say: Sure - pick you up at 7?

Day 20:

Your first time was awkward. 

You were both young and inexperienced, bumbling around each others’ bodies trying to recreate things you’d seen in porn or trying something that might have worked with a previous partner, not quite realizing just yet that every person’s body is different, and what worked for your prom date on prom night was by no means guaranteed to work for this young woman.

But what you lacked in experience you more than made up for with enthusiasm. It had been months since your last hookup, and from the second you’d entered her dorm room you were metaphorically and physically salivating at the opportunity to sleep with her. Nayeon seemed a little more hesitant, a little more nervous about where things were going, but she was still clearly as into it as you were, if the soft gasps and sighs that left her mouth as you explored her neck were any indication. Your hands, hungry to finally have the opportunity to explore her body for the first time, roam her small, tight frame, squeezing her cute little butt, caressing her back, pressing against her sides.

You both stumble onto the bed - quite literally, as you were both too focused on exploring each others’ mouths to realize how close it actually was. Nayeon falls onto it first, a cute little giggle leaving her mouth as she does so. You loom over her for a moment, enraptured by her smile, those cute bunny teeth of hers, those welcoming lips, her button nose, those perfect, expressive eyes rendered into adorable upside down arcs - her image took your breath away.

You find a smile appearing at the corner of your lips, the way it always seemed to whenever you spent time with this amazing young woman who had been at the center of your thoughts over the past couple of weeks. Sometimes it was something she said or did that made you smile - a funny joke, the way she reacted with half-serious anger when you teased her about her unusually large hands, the clumsy way she blew strands of hair away from her face while she studied. Sometimes she made you smile just by being her - when she was doing nothing in particular, managing to bring a smile to your lips even before you knew your lips were moving.

The sex that was to come was awkward, clumsy, far from being the best sex you’d ever had. But when it is over and you are both lying there with her head on your chest, you take a moment to look down and watch as she begins to doze off, her eyes slowly becoming too heavy for her to keep open, until finally she drifts off and begins to lightly snore.

You add that moment to the growing list of moments when Im Nayeon made you smile.

Day 21: 

“...and counting you, yeah, that’s the number.”

Nayeon takes a moment to respond, and you fear that you might have surprised her with how many girls you’d slept with. Should you have lied? What number was she expecting when she asked you? You tilt your head as best you could to try and get a look at her face as she rests her head in the crook of your neck. She is facing away from the nearby window and the mid-morning sunlight of the day after your first time together sheds little light on her expression.

“Is that… a lot for you?” you ask.

“No, no it’s not,” she replies, “Don’t worry, I’m not a prude or anything. People can sleep with as many people as they want. It’s just sex. This isn’t the 1800s.”

You find it a little difficult to gauge her reaction from her flat response.

“Some of them were just one night stands. Stupid drunken hookups at house parties. They didn’t mean anything-”

“What about me? Do I mean anything?” she asks suddenly. She tilts her head up at you, and you are relieved to see the cheesy smile on her face that told you she had meant the question mostly as a joke.

“Of course you do,” you reply, before giving her a quick kiss on the forehead, “I don’t usually buy my sexual partners dinner.”

Nayeon gives you a punch to the gut, and while she meant it to be playful it still caught you unprepared. 

“What about you?” you ask once sufficiently recovered. “What’s your number?”

Nayeon takes another moment to consider her answer, tapping her bottom lip with her index finger as though reviewing the entirety of her sexual history in her head. The length of time she takes to compose her answer makes you more than a little nervous, but you resolve to accept whatever number she gives you - she was right; it wasn’t the 1800s.

Nayeon’s finger leaves her mouth and she places it back onto your chest, where she begins to idly play with a random patch of skin.

“Counting you?” she asks, softly.

“Yeah.”

“One,” she answers.

Day 113:

Im Nayeon turned out to be a pretty good shot.

Of the ten targets set up at the carnival booth you were currently visiting, she downed eight with her BB gun - good enough for the surprised staff member to give her her choice of oversized stuffed animal.

“You’re a pretty damn good shot,” you say as you leave the booth, a large stuffed rabbit slung over your back. “If you’re some sort of international super spy you should probably tell me now.”

“Nope, not a spy,” she answers as she takes a bite from the large cloud of cotton candy she just bought from a nearby stand. She rips off a small piece and pops it into your mouth before hooking her arm in yours.

“Special Forces?”

“Nah, I don’t take orders very well.”

“Cop?”

“Fuck cops,” she says plainly, an edge in her voice. “No way in hell I’d ever want to be a cop.”

Day 283: 

It didn’t take long for sex to become a regular and frequent occurence with Nayeon.

It almost seemed like your first time together had flipped a switch inside the young woman, as though she were introduced to this new exciting thing that she had to have at every opportunity. 

You were both taking mid-level classes now and while the school workload and extracurricular commitments had ramped up, you both made sure to set time aside for each other. Nayeon was a caring, loving young woman and you were constantly in awe at the fact that you were lucky enough to be in a relationship with her. She was everything you had ever wanted in a girlfriend, and you did your best to make her feel as such. She rarely admitted it with words, but you could tell from the small things - the way she held your hand, the way she always bought you little trinkets and snacks and gifts, the way she looked longingly into your eyes every now and then - that she must have felt the same. 

It surprised you, then, that such a sweet and caring girl could be so aggressive and daring when it came to sex. You’d figured her to be the vanilla, simple type, especially after your first time together - but she quickly became open to experimenting with different positions and kinks. It was most often her that wanted to try new things in the bedroom - or the library, or the bathroom. Recently she’d taken a liking to two new kinks - light bondage, and sex in increasingly daring places on campus.

Nayeon hated the professor of the mid-level criminology class she was currently taking, and so she wanted to exact some measure of revenge on him by having sex on the lectern in the lecture hall a few hours before her class. It was a flimsy excuse, but you weren’t one to turn down such an opportunity.

She even dressed for the occasion - her blue plaid skirt and the tight white button up she wore gave her all the appearance of an innocent schoolgirl, even if the shirt was currently undone and the skirt bunched up around her waist. She even went through the trouble of wearing white knee socks and a blue tie to complete the schoolgirl ensemble, although the tie was currently serving rather admirably as a restraint for her wrists, bound behind her back.

You are almost worried that being pressed face down onto the lectern without her hands to support her was painful for her, but the tightness of her tight, slick pussy wrapped around your cock and her endless stream of only half-suppressed sighs and moans convinced you that there was nothing to be worried about. Your hands wander her helpless body as you take her roughly from behind, sometimes squeezing a cute ass cheek, sometimes pulling her body back by her shoulders as you slam forward with your hips, sometimes grasping a handful of chocolate hair, moistened with sweat, and pulling back, enjoying the gasp of pleasure and pain that leaves her throat with each tug of her hair.

Fucking her over the lecture hall lectern was a risky move, of course, given that absolutely anyone in the university community could have walked in and witnessed you pounding away at her - but Nayeon’s sexual appetite had become more and more ravenous in the past couple of months, and when she decided she wanted it, you were in no position to refuse her.

It had started simple enough, with some relatively vanilla sexual positions in her dorm room or yours. And then it turned into weekends where you did little more than eat, sleep and fuck. Then you began fucking on campus, starting in the library against the bookshelves, and then in washrooms between classes - culminating now in this afternoon’s escapade, your most brazen one yet.

You wonder, for a split second, what the punishment might be should a faculty member walk in and find you two going at it atop the lecture hall’s stage. But as Nayeon’s pussy tightens around you and her moans begin to reach a crescendo, you realize that you would have accepted any such punishment with a happy, satisfied smile on your face.

“I’m gonna fucking cum on your cock,” Nayeon states through gritted teeth, matter-of-factly, as though she were answering a question posed by her professor, and not being fucked atop his lectern. “You’re so… so fucking big inside me.”

The audacity of the situation she had put you in - the thrill of the possibility of being caught, her schoolgirl outfit, the tight, wet heat of her pussy and the level of arousal she was clearly experiencing - it was no surprise how turned on you both were. Your bodies made it obvious.

“And you’re so fucking tight, Nayeon. Are you… gonna think of us fucking on this lectern when you’re in class later?”

“Fuck yes!” Nayeon gasps, “Fuck, fuck yes, I want to picture you fucking me on this lectern while the professor gives his lecture, it’s gonna make me so wet, oh fuck, oh fuck… I want to sit in class with your cum in my pussy, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum!”

“Fucking cum for me, Nayeon,” you spit. 

“Oh fuck oh god I’m gonna fucking cum oh fuck I’m cumming!--”

You grit your teeth as she does just that, her body tightening and pulsating around you, her limbs shaking as she tries and fails to contain the pleasure radiating out from her core. You consider joining her, and your aching cock almost begs for release as it continues to pound the quivering young woman atop the lectern - but you do your best to hang on a little longer, seeking to savor every moment, relish every thrust into Nayeon’s tight, slick pussy.

And so when the door to the lecture hall opens, you almost don’t realize it.

Nayeon is thankfully more alert than you, and even through her post-orgasm haze she realizes the danger the opening of the door posed to the both of you. Before you realize what she is doing she pushes herself off you and off the lectern, ducking beneath it. On her knees, she quickly turns to face you and before you know it she takes your cock into her mouth.

You are left breathless, suddenly going from having your cock buried in your girlfriend’s pussy to having her under the lectern and having your cock buried in her mouth literally leaves you unable to move, much less process the fact that someone else has entered the lecture hall.

It is a few more seconds before you are cognizant enough to realize that the newcomer is dressed in grey overalls - a janitor. While he is far off at the top of the stairs that lead to the entrance of the large lecture hall, from his stooped posture you could tell he was likely an older gentleman. The fact that the lectern is a solid piece of wood, combined with the janitor’s age and eyesight, likely meant that there was little chance of him realizing Nayeon was there.

“Oh, sorry, professor, I didn’t know you were in here. Just cleaning up the garbage bins,” the janitor says as he shuffles towards the bins at either corner of the hall.

“Oh, no problem at all,” you answer, your voice wavering only slightly as Nayeon continues to take your stiff, aching cock in and out of her mouth, “I’m just… getting some notes ready.”

You make a show of shuffling some random papers and forms that were lying atop the lectern. You are too afraid to look down, knowing that the sight of Nayeon’s large, expressive eyes as she took your cock in and out between her lips, her arms still bound behind her, might be too much for you to handle.

“Nice weather we’re having, eh?” the janitor asks in a pleasant tone as he finally reaches one of the bins at the corner of the hall.

“Wonderful!” you snap, your voice cracking as you answer, “-wonderful. It’s pretty damn hot down there.”

“Down there?” the janitor asks, quizzically. 

“Out there. Sorry. I meant to say ‘out there.’”

“Ah,” he responds, before shuffling, painfully slowly, towards the other bin.

Beneath the lectern Nayeon redoubles her efforts, as though challenging you to cum before the janitor leaves the room. Her lips tighten around your cock, her tongue dancing in random patterns around and under your head, each swipe of it sending fierce shocks of pleasure shooting up your spine. Your grip tightens on the lectern’s edge as you seek some outlet for the pleasure.

You try to focus on the random notes that some previous professor had left on the lectern, trying to avoid looking down at Nayeon as she continues to suck deeply on your cock. At the top of the lecture hall the janitor has almost reached the second bin.

You notice some struggling going on beneath the lectern, and you glance down long enough to see that Nayeon has relieved herself of the tie wrapped around her wrists - you hadn’t deemed it necessary to double knot it, trusting in her lust and newfound desire to be bound up to keep her wrists tied. 

You watch, enraptured, as Nayeon takes you halfway into her mouth, her eyes locked on yours, lips tight around your shaft. Her hands now free, she quickly slips her already unbuttoned white shirt over her creamy shoulders before quickly reaching behind her and undoing her bra, letting it fall from her now topless frame. She lets your cock pop out of her mouth, jerking it slowly with her right hand as she straightens her torso and lets you have a glimpse of her naked chest, a thick stream of saliva dripping from her lips to fall down her chin and onto her small, round breasts.

As she continues to jerk you off with her right hand, eyes still fixed on yours, her left hand drops to her upper chest before capturing one of her own stiff nipples and pinching the hard bud between her index finger and thumb. You gasp audibly as you watch her touch herself. Knowing every ounce of your attention is fixated on her, she slips her hand between her legs and beneath the hem of her skirt. From the sudden pleasured expression on her face you know she has slipped her fingers inside herself.

Eyes glazed over with pleasure, she locks her gaze on yours and takes you into her mouth again.

Nothing else exists in your world. Never mind the janitor - every one of the two hundred seats in front of you could have been filled with students and nothing could have stopped you from watching, helplessly, as Nayeon brings you to orgasm. In reality it probably only took twenty seconds or so of her sucking your cock while she fingered herself - but in your mind it seemed to last forever.

A split second before you reach your peak you bury yourself as deeply inside her mouth, reaching down involuntarily with your right hand to grasp the back of her head and thrusting your cock as deep between her warm, wet lips as you could. Nayeon gags slightly as the head of your cock enters her throat, but she manages to control her gag reflex, and maintains it as your orgasm overtakes your senses and you send thick, hot semen down her throat. Time became abstract - seemed to slow down and then stop completely as you fill Nayeon’s mouth and throat with your cum.

“All done!” comes an announcement from some far away voice - and it takes you a few seconds before you realize it is the janitor, having finally reached and emptied the second garbage bin. “Sorry to bother you again, professor. Have a wonderful class.”

“Th… thanks,” you mumble as the janitor gives you a friendly wave, one you struggle to return with a weak wave of your own quivering arm. Your knees have similarly gone weak, and you are holding onto the lectern with both hands now, struggling to remain upright.

Beneath the lectern Nayeon tries to ensure that she swallows as much of your cum as possible, her throat working quickly to greedily swallow each rope of thick semen that you give her. Despite her best efforts she fails, some of the large volume of cum escaping from the corners of her lips to drip down her chin and onto her naked chest. When she has swallowed as much as she can she swirls her tongue around your hyper-sensitive cock a few times before finally releasing it from her lips. As her mouth leaves your cock it remains joined to her lips by a thick stream of semen, before the rope snaps and drips onto her naked upper chest.

“Fuck, I wanted it in my pussy,” she says as she begins to clean your slick cock with a thirsty tongue, “I guess you’ll have to fuck me here again tomorrow.” 

Day 365: 

“It’s leaking out of me.”

“Jesus, Nayeon, it was your idea. I thought you cleaned up before we left the bathroom.”

“I didn’t know there would be that much. I thought I drained you this morning,” she answers, squirming about in her seat. She straightens her dress as best she could, but there was no hiding the recent wrinkles that came with having said dress pulled up around her waist.

“Either way, it was hot as fuck,” you admit. Having sex in a university library or even in a lecture hall seemed woefully vanilla now that you could both add sex in a high-class, overly expensive restaurant’s bathroom to your list of achievements.

“Definitely,” she answers, a sly smile on her lips and a slight blush on her cute, puffy cheeks. It amazed you, sometimes, how she could switch so quickly between being adorable and sultry and beautiful. Sometimes she was all three, all at the same time.

“Anyway,” she continues, “I got a present for you. It’s our anniversary, if you didn’t notice.”

She bends to pick something out from her purse before sliding the rectangular velvet box across the table. You are a little surprised, suddenly worried that the new pair of running shoes you’d bought for her earlier in the day was now not enough. What the hell were you thinking getting a girl a pair of Nikes for your anniversary? In your defense, she loved to run, she loved Nikes and she had insisted that she make it easy for you by picking out a pair for you that she wanted... but you should’ve known better, should’ve gotten her a bracelet or a necklace or-

“Open it,” she says, softly, a small, sly smile on her otherwise unreadable features. She takes a small bite of her salad, but her eyes remain locked on yours, as though wanting to capture every split second of your reaction.

You are a little apprehensive when you reach for the box and open it, expecting a watch or bracelet or some other expensive piece of jewelry.

Inside is a circular strip of red leather - a choker or collar of some sort. Its buckle gleams in the restaurant’s low light.

“Um, thanks, Nayeon,” you answer, a little puzzled by the present, even if it was clearly of exceptional quality and looked quite expensive. “I don’t own a pet, though.”

“It’s not for animals,” Nayeon answers as she pushes around some of the lettuce on her plate. “It’s for a slave. It’s for me.”

Day 712:

“It’s not a sexy anniversary present this time, so don’t get your hopes up,” Nayeon says as you tear the neatly applied wrapping paper from the box. Sitting next to you on the couch of your apartment, she idly plays with the necklace you had just given her, her fingertips tracing the outline of the silver bunny rabbit at the end of the black leather string. Her lips curve upward in a soft, happy smile. You’d learned from last year and weren’t about to make the same mistake two years in a row.

“I’m sure it’s awesome no matter what it is,” you reply, truthfully. You finally open the box to find a blue hoodie inside it - simple in design, but you could tell by its fabric and its details that it was a high quality one.

“You’re always shivering in those ratty old sweaters and jackets of yours,” she notes. “I can’t have my boyfriend freezing his ass off all the time.”

You smile as you give the hoodie a closer look, admiring its stitching and the detail work. It was such a simple present, but it spoke of how much she thought of you.

“I love it. I’ll never take it off.”

Day 741:

Nayeon is playing idly with your knuckles atop the restaurant table as she describes an interesting case study in her criminology textbook - something about inter-jurisdictional police work, or something like that. Truth be told, you could barely piece together what she was going on about, other than the fact that it involved the rules and regulations put in place when law enforcement agencies and personnel from one country have to work in another.

She seemed engrossed in the topic - and while she was an intelligent young woman who seemed to breeze through all of her classes with flying colors, she had rarely shown this much actual personal interest in any of her other school work.

So while you weren’t quite following or understanding every detail she was relating about the complexities of international law and its relation to cross-jurisdictional law enforcement, you were content simply to watch her speak, gesturing expressively with her free hand while she kept her other atop yours, her thumb idly stroking the knuckle of your index finger. You smile and nod, content simply to watch her talk about something she was so deeply interested in.

The waiter arrives with your order - two wooden trays of assorted sushi. He gives you both a friendly smile as he places the food down on the table; you’d been to the restaurant almost weekly since your first date there more than two years ago. Despite the waiter’s friendly demeanor and the impending prospect of another delicious meal, you feel a ping of sadness in your heart as Nayeon lets go of your hand to make room for the newly arrived food.

Almost as soon as the waiter leaves, you pick up your two pieces of salmon and reach over to drop them onto Nayeon’s tray. In return she leaves you with her pieces of tamago, which you’d come to love over the past couple of years.

You look at each other and share a smile. She begins to dig into her food, but your gaze lingers on her for a moment more, your smile refusing to leave quite yet.

Day 751:

“Huh,” you say out loud as you read through the email.

“Mmm?” Nayeon asks as she pops the last french fry on her plate into her mouth. You are both sitting in the university student union building, having just shared a quick lunch between classes. Sitting next to you, she leans over to get a better look at the screen of your laptop.

“I applied to this job at this company called JYP last week, and they want to interview me.”

“Ooooh. I hear they’re gonna be big soon. Go for it.”

“Not sure if I’d even want the job if I were to get it, though,” you answer. “Their head office is all the way on the other side of the country and I’m not gonna move all that way for a job - even if it does sound a bit like a pretty cool company. And it’s for a pretty low level position.”

“You should still take the interview -  it might be good experience for the future, when you’re doing an interview for a job you’re more serious about. Worst case scenario you make a fool of yourself in front of people you’ll never see again. Best case scenario, you get a job offer from one of the best companies in the industry.”

“Yeah, I hear thousands of people apply for these new-grad positions and they only accept a handful. It’s a career-defining opportunity… but making people move to the other side of the country so they can start at the bottom making coffee for meetings is a big ask.”

“You’re a fresh grad - they’re not gonna give you your own team and have you travel the world making deals right off the bat. There’s no point in thinking about it, either way. Take the interview, and if you get an offer that’s great, if not, well, at least you got some experience out of it.”

“That’s true,” you admit. “Okay, let’s make deal. I’ll take this interview, you apply for that grad school program you’ve been thinking about.”

Nayeon groans - she was majoring in criminology and was thinking about pursuing a career in the field, but hadn’t quite decided on whether grad school was something she wanted to pursue given the amount of work that it would entail.

“Ugh - you know how I feel about that.”

“Nayeon, you love the field. You don’t stop telling me about these new cases you come across in your classes. Your grades are more than good enough. It would be awesome for your career.”

“I suppose. But we’ve been over this. I want to find a good job right after graduation. I have plans for post-school life. We have plans.”

You nod, knowing Nayeon was referring to the idea of the both of you moving in together after graduation. Things were getting pretty serious with her, and you were both looking forward to taking the next step. You’d caught her once or twice looking at listings for apartments around the city in neighborhoods you’d both liked. And more than once her gaze lingered for more than a few seconds at rings in jewelry stores as you passed by them on the street.

“I get that, but you can still work while you’re in grad school. And hey, if we live together, it won’t be so bad. Soon you’ll finish the program and get a job as an international crime fighter and I’ll sit at home being your trophy husband - which is my real dream job, let’s be honest.”

Nayeon giggles, snuggling closer to you on the cafeteria bench. Her cheeks blush pink, and it takes you a second to realize it was probably because you used the word ‘husband.’ While you knew you were both young and the idea of marriage seemed a little premature, you would’ve been lying if you’d said it hadn’t crossed your mind once or twice over the past couple of years. 

“Husband, huh? What makes you think I want to marry you?”

“Well, I’m your dream guy,” you answer as nonchalantly as you could, “of course you’d want to marry me. We’d live in a perfect little apartment downtown next to our favorite sushi restaurant and we’d have three dogs named Charmander, Bulbasaur, and Squirtle. You can go off chasing bad guys in foreign countries while I concentrate on being the very best - like no one ever was.”

“I suppose that does sound like a dream come true,” she says softly, her eyes suddenly thoughtful. She touches the silver rabbit on her necklace, her fingers tracing the well worn patterns on it.

“Right? So we’ve agreed, then. I’ll interview for JYP, you apply for that grad school program.”

“Gah, fine,” Nayeon submits, although you could tell her reaction was more than a little exaggerated. Her cheeks are still flushed, her eyes still wistful, as though she were processing the thousand little thoughts running through her head.

“Good. Let us drink to our agreement.”

You raise your half-empty can of coke, and Nayeon picks up her water bottle.

“To chasing our dreams,” she says, before you tap your drinks together.

Day 783:

It takes Nayeon most of the morning to get out of bed. 

When she finally drags herself to the washroom to look at herself in the mirror, she can barely recognize the mess she sees in its reflection.

Her eyes are red, dry, and itchy after having spent the night before crying herself to sleep. For a moment she thinks of grabbing her phone, of calling you and telling you that you could still be together, that you broke up prematurely, that you were meant to be - that you could maybe give a long distance relationship a try. It was a temptation that came up often in the past three days since your breakup. Every time it came up she fought it off, even if every time she did it cost her in tears and heartache.

She sighs. You were probably already starting your new life on the other side of the country. Far away from your university, far away from the sushi restaurant where she traded egg for salmon, far away from the apartment open houses that she’d hoped you would visit together - far away from the life she thought she’d be living with you.

She feels the tears start to well up again. 

But this time she tries her best to fight them off, wiping at them with a tissue before they have the chance to fall down her cheeks.

She needed something, anything to get her mind off of you. And while the prospect of crawling back into her bed and allowing sleep to dull her heartache was appealing to her, she knew it would solve nothing, wouldn’t do anything to help her recover. She was sad now, and she would be sad when she woke up.

The new textbooks for her graduate program in criminology, sitting in a pile on her desk, catch her attention.

Eyes still red and teary, she breaks the first one open and begins to read.

Day 2,013:

It takes Nayeon most of the morning to get the stench of the decomposing body out of her nostrils. 

“Jesus Christ,” her partner swears as they step out of the main elevator in the building where the murders took place, “I won’t be forgetting that any time soon.”

“Neither will I,” she agrees, taking long sniffs of air through her nostrils in a vain attempt to cleanse her sense of smell.

“What’s your call, boss?”

“Jealous wife stabs cheating husband to death in his sleep. There was a hunting rifle and ammo elsewhere in the house that she could have used if she just wanted him dead. They were filthy rich, so I doubt this was life insurance fraud or anything like that. This wasn’t about money. Use of the knife suggests it was personal. Passionate. Repeated stabs, too, not just one clean cut. She wanted to send that asshole a message as she killed him.”

“Their mistake was in getting married,” her partner states, unprompted. He fancied himself a bit of a playboy, although Nayeon knew his self-confident exterior and dismissal of long term relationships masked an internal irrational fear of commitment. She’d always been good at getting the measure of people, even before her job as a detective allowed her to turn it into a career.

“Whatever,” she says, dismissive. “Let’s pull the CCTV from the building, especially the ones from the underground garage. This was a crime committed in the heat of passion. Unplanned. I’m guessing she panicked, took their car and drove off. We should be able to pull a license plate - make sure you get it out and distributed in case she stayed local. They’ve got a ton of money so she’s probably out of the country by now, but we can at least track the car on airport CCTV and deduce what flight she hopped on. Pull their credit card info and start looking for flights. Once you have that I’ll start having a chat with my contacts in those countries.”

“Roger that, boss,” her partner says. “Another case Sherlocked by the great Im Nayeon,” he adds, before heading off to track down the building superintendent.

Nayeon smirks in his direction as she ducks under the yellow police tape that bars the entrance doors to the building, pushing past the gathering crowd of concerned apartment neighbors.

As she approaches her squad car to head back to the precinct, her phone vibrates in her jacket.

“Detective Im,” she answers.

“Im? Im Nayeon? I’m not sure if you remember me, but this is Park Jihyo of the Seoul Metropolitan Police. We met at that convention in Madrid last year.”

“Of course I remember you, Jihyo. How are you? What’s up?”

“I’m doing good, thanks. Listen, something’s come up here in Seoul that I was hoping you could help me with.”

Nayeon puts her phone on speaker, continuing her conversation with Jihyo as she pulls the squad car out of the garage and starts to head back to the precinct. 

After their call Nayeon reaches under her jacket to the black string of the necklace around her neck. Her fingers find and trace the outline of the silver rabbit hanging from it.

The chance to chase an old dream. It was time to see if it would come true.

--

Author’s Note: 

Too much fluff? :P

Yes, this was heavily inspired by 500 Days of Summer lol. I had thought of having the days in mixed order like in the movie but decided to keep it linear so as to not confuse people. 

Let me know what y’all think. :)

[qqueenofhades]

Okay, y'all. Time to do this one more time. Let the fact that there are so many of these posts right now reinforce the point. Many of you already know this, and I see and love you, but for anyone still ~undecided about their choice, should they be an American citizen of voting age on November 3, 2020:

Time to not be. It was time a long, long while ago, but I am going to have to say it again.

Primary season is over. The endless fine-tooth combing of candidates' policies and positions is over. We are all deeply well aware that the candidates on the Democratic ticket, being human beings and establishment politicians, are flawed. "BUT WHAT ABOUT THIS POSITION FROM 19/ 20-WHENEVER AS JUSTIFICATION FOR WHY IT'S TERRIBLE TO VOTE FOR -- "

No. Stop. Just stop. Stop threatening to hold the rest of us hostage, in the middle of a pandemic, the Great Depression, and racial inequality and protests on a scale not seen from the 1960s, because you did not get Barbie Dream Candidate. That is the behavior of terrorists and toddlers. If your supposedly enlightened morally pure ideology does not involve any action to mitigate the harm that is directly in front of you, it isn't worth a shit as an ideology actually devoted to helping people. If your approach to politics is to shout about how Pure your ideas are on twitter and tear down anyone working within a system of flawed choices to do the good that they can: you're not helping, and frankly, your constant threats to withhold your suffrage as a punishment to us aren't convincing the rest of us that we really need to listen to you or that you have anyone's best interests at heart. The Online Left TM is as much a vacuous, self-reinforcing noise chamber as the Online Right TM, and can sometimes tend to be even more dangerous.

I was saying this in 2016. A lot of us were saying this in 2016. I am just about to turn 32 years old and have been voting in federal elections for almost 15 years. For what it's worth.

This is not an ordinary election. This is not a contest between two flawed candidates who respect the system and want to work to enact their policies in the ordinary way. One is a flawed 90s era Democrat who nonetheless has already been pushed CONSIDERABLY left in his policies and platforms since the end of the primaries (and his existing platform would already make him the most left president elected, even more than Obama). The other is a fascist dictator who has openly spoken about refusing to accept the election results, his desire to abolish term limits and serve for life, and complete the pillaging of any remaining fragile American public funds for him and his cult of cronies. He does not respect the system. He does not want to do anything for anyone that is not himself. 160,000 and counting needless deaths of American citizens have already happened. Will keep happening.

This is the last time Trump has to face voters. This is the last chance the country has to repudiate his entire poisonous ideology and its marching Nazi minions. IF he steps aside, which is already far from guaranteed, he can ride off into the sunset as a vindicated two term president and probably be rehabilitated like George W. Bush was within a few years of leaving office. American political memory is very short. It will happen. Again, if he even leaves.

RBG is 87 and has cancer again. She will NOT survive another four years. Stephen Breyer is 81. Their seats could both come up in the next four years. The Supreme Court could be a right wing rubber stamp for whatever time we all have left before climate change and coronavirus kill us all.

"But if people just thought for themselves and did their homework and didn't vote the party line like sheep, we could support a third party/write in -- " Stop. Just stop. Attend a ninth grade civics class and learn about how politics work in America. Yes, the two-party system sucks. Yes, the Electoral College is a hot steaming pile of absolute bullshit. Magical unicorn fairy dust fantasies WILL NOT change that.

Do not vote for Kanye (who has pretty much openly admitted he is trying to play spoiler to Biden on behalf of his buddy Trump). Do not vote for godforsaken fucking Gary Johnson or Jill Stein who appear on ballots just to give sanctimonious leftists the illusion of virtue-signaling. If you want any chance of fixing the mess that 2020 has left America and the world in, you need to vote for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. The end.

Biden is a flawed old man who was our last choice, sure. He is also a distinguished public servant who has already been in the White House for eight years under Obama and thus we KNOW what to expect. He is an empathetic man who connects with people's personal tragedy and picked as his running mate a younger Black/biracial woman who directly confronted and called him out on past behavior. While the pundit class was simpering and whining about how it was Disrespectful and how could he consider her, Biden did so, and that speaks well to me of the fact that he is willing to learn, to take criticism, and not just accept it from a former Black female rival, but make her his second in command and the potential first female president of the United States.

Can you EVER picture Trump doing that? Not in eight thousand million years.

As for Kamala, we are all aware of her previous checkered history as a prosecutor (and even then, she did plenty of good things as well!). Since joining the Senate, however, she has consistently become one of its most progressive members. She is the co-sponsor of an economic aid package designed to give every American $2,000/month, backdated to March (the start of the coronavirus pandemic) and continuing at least a few months after its end. A Biden-Harris White House could make that happen. Especially if they are put into office with a Democratic House and Senate (for the love of God, Kentucky, kill Mitch McConnell with fire). That is just one example.

Harris's nomination is obviously historic. And Biden didn't choose another Biden (or another Tim Kaine, the blandest white man imaginable). He chose another Obama: a younger rising star of an immigrant background, a person of color, a former lawyer and someone who represents the diversity of the country that the white supremacists and the Cheeto in Chief have tried to paint as its worst and most degenerate evil.

A vote for Biden and Harris means getting rid not just of Trump, but Mike Pence, Vladimir Putin, Jared Kushner, Betsy Devos, the Trump crony destroying the Postal Service, the rampant coronavirus misinformation and bullshit, the destruction of Social Security and Medicare, the spread of Nazi propaganda from the President's twitter account, the likely two Supreme Court picks that would be as bad as Brett Kavanaugh or worse... on and on. Biden and Harris would be elected by progressive voters and thus answerable to them in 2022 midterms and 2024 general. They can both be, and already have been, pushed further left. They are reasonable and competent adults who have demonstrated experience and compassion. I KNOW about their flaws and past actions I don't agree with. But I'm frankly done with any more counterproductive straw man bitching about This One Bad Thing They Did and how it makes it a terribad awful choice to vote for them. Open your eyes. Look at the alternative. LOOK AT WHAT HAS ALREADY HAPPENED AND THE FACT THAT THIS IS NOT EVEN AS BAD AS IT COULD STILL GET.

Check your registration or register at vote.gov.

DO NOT LOOK AT POLLS AND DECIDE "EH BIDEN IS CLEARLY GOING TO WIN, I DON'T NEED TO VOTE." THAT IS HOW WE LOST LAST TIME.

Unseating incumbents is HARD. It is even harder when the other side has openly laid out their plan to cheat in great detail, and there is nothing really stopping them from doing it. The only thing, in fact, is massive, unfalsifiable results on an undeniable scale.

So:

Vote.

Vote for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris.

Thanks a lot.

[1dmonthlyficroundup]

1D Monthly Fic Roundup

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for May 2021! Below the cut you’ll find 17 One Direction fics that were all published this month in the order they were submitted to the blog. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup.

New York Kiss by wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment

[Louis/Zayn, Mature, 47k, tumblr post]

“Also, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m quite the narcissistic type, and I didn’t want that cute guy to have a bad opinion of me for the rest of his life.” “Who, me?” Zayn bats his lashes jokingly, ignoring the fact that his heart skipped a beat at Louis’ words. “Yeah, you. So, shall we go?” Louis drops what remains of his cigarette on the floor and steps on it to light it off. Meanwhile, Zayn makes a reckless decision. “Alright. Lead the way, De Niro.”

Or: A strangers to lovers AU where Louis is an actor, Zayn is a writer (among other things), and they meet each other literally by accident in NYC, just as the world is about to turn upside down.

I Love The Very Blood Of You by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10 

[Harry/Louis, Explicit, 129k, tumblr post]

“I don’t just like him …” Harry muttered, fiddling with the string at the waistband of his jogging bottoms that had definitely seen better days. “I love him, Zayn. I’m in love with Louis. With a vampire.”

He looked up just in time to see a small smile on Anne’s face, and she reached out with a hopeful look. Harry couldn’t resist, and put his large hand in hers, letting her comfort him for a moment.

“I could tell there was love between you,” she confessed softly, a light blush on her cheeks. “When I met you, I knew you were smitten with each other. I won’t pretend it doesn’t make me nervous, but … I can’t tell you who you can and can’t love, sweetheart.”

A vampire. A human. A broken arrangement. A love long since forbidden. Hunted by hate. Destined.

One More Taste of Your Lips by MsHydeStylinson @mizzhydes and @canadianlarrie

[Harry/Louis, Explicit, 80k, tumblr post]

It had been eight years since the hiatus began, and Louis had spent that time writing and recording music, touring and making it safely through the pandemic. When the opportunity arose to go back on tour with One Direction, Louis knew he'd be a fool not to take it. Sure, life on the road would be different after all this time apart, but he was looking forward to experiencing that comradery again.

What he hadn't realised was that living the better part of nine months in each other's pockets was bound to dredge up issues from his past. And when one of the pockets belonged to Harry, who he'd had a rather unconventional friendship with that drifted apart during their last tour, life on the road again would upend both their lives in irrevocable ways.

***

Harry wasn’t that sixteen year old boy anymore. Nor was he the young man in his late teens who was on the cusp of conquering the entire world.

But some traits seemed to remain the same; his vibrant green eyes, the dimples set deeply in his cheeks whenever he laughed earnestly, or his curls that were the same shade of cocoa that Louis remembered fondly.

And yet, Louis had absolutely no idea who this man that stood a mere twenty paces away was today.

take my hand, wreck my plans by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose

[Harry/Louis, Teen & Up, 38k, tumblr post]

Louis meets the man in the center of the room, feeling every eye on him.

“Mr. H,” he whispers.

The man smiles brightly and laughs as if he can’t believe his eyes. “It’s you,” he says breathlessly. “I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“Nor I you, especially under these circumstances.”

“Even so,” Mr H says, his eyes bouncing from Louis’ eyes to his lips. “Will you do me a great honor and join me in leading the first … um…”

“Dance?”

Mr. H laughs and nods. “Yes, that’s the one.”

Louis bites his lips and doesn’t hesitate before whispering, “Yes.”

Mr. H beams and reaches for Louis’ hand. Sparks fly at the touch and a zing of excitement shoots through Louis’ body. His face heats up as he’s afraid his scent would give away his feelings towards the other man.

Winter Light by wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment

[Liam/Zayn (Liam & Louis, Harry/Louis), Teen & Up, 58k, tumblr post]

“Do you think this place is dead?” he suddenly asked, his eyes focused on one of the two oaks, whose bark was grey and trunk cracked. 

“What do you mean?” Zayn inquired, joining him by the tree. 

“Well, it’s winter now, so obviously everything looks dead anyway,” Liam said. “But do you think come spring, this place might look like the way it looked before?” 

Zayn took his time to think about Liam’s question. “I think all things are salvageable,” he eventually answered. “Including this garden. You just have to try hard enough.”

After his mother’s death, Liam is sent to live at his estranged uncle’s manor in the North of England, where new friends, mysterious places and family secrets await him. A Secret Garden inspired Soulmate AU

Cake and Kiss by @loulovehome

[Harry/Louis, General, 2k, tumblr post]

The one where omega Harry didn't like cake and wants to throw up when his alpha kisses him.

Love After the End of the World by writing_practice / @mercurial-madhouse

[Harry/Louis, Explicit, 150k, tumblr post]

“Wait. Just so I’m clear in me fucking noggin,” Niall says. “An international worldwide takeover is well under way and the only thing standing between having hot showers and a second end of the world is us five fuckers?”

-----

Society shattered when all electricity suddenly cut off across the globe, plunging the world into darkness. Now, Prometheus Industries is the sole remaining supply of power, a saving grace to those who survived Lights Out. As fugitives in no-man’s land struggling to break into Prometheus HQ, death lurks around every corner for Louis and Zayn. Things get complicated when a routine recon falls apart and Louis collides with Harry and his mates Niall and Liam, survivors with their own agenda.

When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

Hometown by @allwaswell16

[Louis/Harry, Not Rated, 2k, tumblr post]

On the day Harry gets his driver’s licence, he drives through the suburbs, heartbroken that he can’t drive home to Louis.

Baby Blues by @kingsofeverything

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 12K, tumblr post]

8 mpreg Harry snippets originally posted on Tumblr. Mostly smut ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But If This Ends by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense

[Harry/Louis, Explicit, 107k, tumblr post]

Harry’s life as a vampire is routine. He spends his years moving around from place to place, learning as much as he can, and falling in love whenever the universe sees fit. When he tries to move his casual relationship with Louis to something more, it all gets turned on its head. As they navigate confusing thoughts and complex emotions, Harry finds himself torn between the love he feels for Louis and everything he thought he knew.

Featuring pet names, love letters, secrets, meaningful friendships, and two insecure boys desperately in love.

Pretty in Pink by lovelarry / @chloehl10

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 18k, tumblr post]

“Love? Can I come in?”

Harry sniffed and shook his head before he realised Louis couldn’t see him. “No. Go home, Lou. Please.”

“I’m not leaving,” the Omega insisted, his voice full of concern. “And I’m not judging either. Just… talk to me, Haz.”

Harry briefly considered changing or at least ripping everything off and greeting Louis in his boxers before he realised that might actually be worse, that Louis had seen him dressed up and there was no need to hide anymore. He meekly shuffled over to the door and pulled it open before he backed away, refusing to meet Louis’ eyes.

To the Omega’s credit, he walked straight over to Harry and wrapped his arms around him from behind, resting his cheek between Harry’s shoulder blades.

“This top feels nice. Soft. I see why you like it,” Louis said quietly from behind him.

*****

Alpha Harry loves to secretly dress up and be pretty. He loves his feminine side, even if it’s not typical of an Alpha. But when Omega Louis finds out, it might just the start of something even more beautiful for them both...

Plant New Seeds In The Melody by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 58k, tumblr post]

After losing his husband in a tragic car accident, the last thing Louis needs is to keep running into popstar Harry Styles, who David was quite fond of.

Obviously, that’s exactly what keeps happening.

But as their unlikely friendship blossoms, Louis realizes that, maybe, having Harry in his life was the only good thing that came out of his adverse circumstances. Harry could be just the right person to help Louis find trust and intimacy in someone new.

We are the same, you run in my veins by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers

[Louis/Harry, General, 4k, tumblr post]

When the time for Louis to become the Alpha leader of his pack comes, he can’t rise to the occasion for not being yet bonded. A series of trips to neighbouring packs in search of his soulmate is fruitless until he meets one of the other packs’ Alpha heir.

Harry.

The world seems to stop turning for a second and then it shifts, clicking into its axis. All the distress and wrongness he felt until that very moment suddenly disappears. Louis is finally whole.

But two Alpha leaders from different tribes soulbonding is something unheard of before.

evergreen, evermore by docklands / @hershelsue​

[Louis/Harry, General, 2k, tumblr post]

The year is 1979. Their entire lives, Harry and Louis have lived in Chichester, home to the best watermelons in the world. An unruffled life in the country has always served their long term friendship well. It all shifts when Harry has to move away to a bigger city due to his mother’s job, albeit his love for his hometown and for Louis. It’s even harsher when the moving truck leaves on his birthday, of all days. When all seems lost, Louis ends up having to pull some strings to ease the pain in Harry’s heart.

When The High's Too High, and the Low's Too Low by DaysLikeMasquerades

[Louis/Harry, Mature, 22k+ (wip)]

Two perspectives of growing up neurodivergent

Some days Harry wondered if he would ever find a friend who could look past all the things he couldn't change. Someone who didn't care that he could spend hours talking about his latest fascination without calling him obsessed. Who didn't laugh when he couldn't stop his hands from expressing his emotions. Who didn't care that he was 13, but he'd start crying if he went into too many stores, because they were too bright, too loud, too smelly, and it was all just too overwhelming. Some days he thought someone like that just didn't exist.

Most nights Louis wondered if there would ever come a time when he didn't hate himself. When he would learn to control his emotions and the mood swings that seemed to take over everything and leave no room for himself. He wondered how he could live with himself when he only seemed to hurt the people he loved. His teachers thought he was a wonderful boy, but he knew the truth. Most nights he cried himself into exhaustion wondering how it was possible to feel so broken at only 15. He wanted to be happy, but he didn't know how and that scared him more than anything. Most nights he just hoped he could figure it out before it was too late.

Make You Never Wanna Leave (so Don’t) by @beelou​ / cherrylarry

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 3k, tumblr post]

“You look hot in plaid.” “What?” “I said you look like a dad.” “No, you didn't.” “Yes, I certainly did, Harold. You have no proof.” -- Or, the one where Harry wears plaid.

a little tenderness by @disgruntledkittenface

[Harry/Niall, ​Not rated, 10k, tumblr post]

“Listen, my alpha and I broke up and it turns out that all of our friends were really his friends and I need someone to help me through–”

“No,” Harry practically shouts, the word bursting out of him unbidden. He cringes when he sees the shock on Niall’s face, his pale skin flushing lightly. “I’m sorry, but my answer has to be no. I don’t help omegas through heats. I’m really sorry, Liam knows that, so I don’t know why he would give you the idea–”

“It’s not heat, Harry,” Niall interrupts. “It’s depri.”

“Oh. Fuck.”

Touch deprivation makes a lot of sense now that Harry thinks about it. Niall seems generally unwell; he appears to be weak, his skin is pallid and his lips look chapped, and his breathing is ragged. He’s wearing a cozy-looking sweatshirt, but even over FaceTime, he kind of seems cold, hunched over with his arms wrapped around his body. Harry’s never been around an omega in depri as bad off as Niall looks; most of the time, there’s an alpha friend or family member who can help out with scenting and physical contact.

Oh.

[hualianff]

More Than This VI 《V》

It’s no surprise XL gains his own taste of fame after walking the red carpet with one of the most sought-after actors in the country. He doesn’t mind it, going as far as to create a few social media accounts to interact with fans and scroll through their photos and edits of him. He has a few fan sites too, but only for fancy events where he chooses to be recognized in public.

XL and HC agreed before sharing their relationship with the public that they would maintain a strong sense of privacy when it came to their personal lives. They only share what they want to. The paparazzi who manage to take photos without permission are immediately disciplined so it doesn’t happen again.

(“I can’t believe you did it.”

“Hmm, Gege said he was okay with it.”

“I know! But I didn’t expect you to actually....” XL stares at a recent selfie of them HC had posted on his Twitter, taken the night HC won his award. “We look like we just had sex.”

“Nobody’s gonna know.”

XL raises an unimpressed eyebrow at his boyfriend. HC insists again.

“Nobody’s gonna know-”

“They’re gonna know,” XL says with a sigh, pointing to the hickey marks clearly visible on the photo. HC rolls over closer to XL in their bed, scrutinizing the image on XL’s phone.

“Oh, I didn’t see those when I posted the photo.”

“San Laaang!” XL cries, pushing at the taller man’s shoulder before burying his face into his pillow. HC makes XL breakfast in bed as an apology and promises to not drunk-post anything again.)

Eight months after officially dating–which is over two years since they met–HC asks XL to move in with him. XL doesn’t even need to think about his answer, a simple “Yes! Yes please!” escaping his lips. Both HC and XL’s faces light up with overjoyed smiles.

They seem to have had the same idea about where to live, purchasing a home they’ve been eyeing for months! The best aspects include a massive yard (front, side, and back) for XL to tend to, a hot tub, and a spacious living and dining room area to entertain guests. It’s not the grandest or most impressive residence by size or feature. In fact, the first months have them living in a half-finished, rusty house with the prettiest garden you’ve ever seen.

It gradually gets better. HC and XL knew they would have to do a lot of work to improve the shape of their home. Over the next year, they repair and remodel the house themselves, simultaneously adding value to the property and curating the style to fit their dream home. XL makes sure to post progress photos on his social media. His most recent selfie of HC and himself in hardware glasses got over 500k likes! He pinned HC’s comment that said, “Gege is my own very handyman!”

(HC, in a sleeveless tee, shorts that show off his ass, hair pulled back into a high bun: “Gege, you’re the boss now. Tell me what to do.”

XL, struggling not to gawk at HC’s side boobs: “O-okay, first, can you smash those cabinets-”

Cue them making out against the counter when it’s the only part of the kitchen that is fully done.)

***

Having a partner who considers the outdoors as a second home is a special experience. XL often takes HC on dates to national parks and plant nurseries. They go on weekend camping trips where XL teaches HC how to properly filter water, summit long stretches of terrain, and stay warm during cold nights with below-freezing temperatures.

(HC, trying to fit into XL’s sleeping bag: “Hi, gege-”

XL: “San Lang, you have your own sleeping bag that you can actually fit in.”

HC: ‘But I’m cold. Gege helps keep me warm.”

XL: “Fine. But let’s use yours because it’s bigger.”

HC, kissing XL’s forehead: “Thank you, my love.”)

On their hikes, XL points to different plants, explaining their origins and why he finds each one particularly beautiful. At first, HC picks up random flowers on the way home and then he asks XL about what flower fate gave him that day to gift his beloved. (“San Lang, that’s not allowed!”) HC eventually stores all the random facts in his mind, always eager to listen to XL talking about his passion. He also learns to keep his hands from digging up “poor, helpless plants from their home soil.”

However, this unfortunately doesn't prevent HC from accidentally squishing some plants in their yard that he thought were just weeds.

(HC, thinking he’s a good partner: “Get out, stupid weeds. CHOP CHOP!”

XL: “SAN LANG STOP, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?”

HC: “Gege always works so hard. I just wanted to help you in the yard today because you deserve it.” 🥺

XL: *sigh* “I appreciate the gesture, San Lang. But those particular grasses took months to grow, and you just killed them-“)

***

Countless media outlets try to stir up trouble like they typically do with celebrities. Especially when HC has roles that involve romance, articles claiming HC and XL are on the brink of breaking up receive lots of attention. However, what gains more attention are the videos the couple posts on Youtube or Instagram live of their reactions to their “scandals.”

(XL, reading a headline: “Actor bachelor Hua Cheng and co-star Yushi Huang seem to be cozying up after a late-night shoot.’”

HC: “I’m not a bachelor, the fuck?”

XL, smiling: “You could be. Me as well. We can be bachelors together.”

HC, chuckling: “All right. If gege is, then so am I.”

The comments: “That doesn’t make any sense!?”

HC, reading another headline: “HC’s lover found with a mysterious third party??”

XL, exclaiming: “Oh, that’s Shi Qingxuan! You know, the designer for all our red carpet outfits!” 🥰🥰

HC: *nodding along*

XL, cheekily: “-and my secret second-lover”

HC: *blanches* “What.”

XL: “Kidding!!!! San Lang is the only one for me, hehe.” *kisses HC’s cheek* “Okay, next one!”)

Everyone watching the videos is 50% confused and 50% entertained as HC and XL make light of any drama the media portrays them in. Viewers accept that of course, the rumors aren’t true; HC and XL are still very much in love.

They’re in love with each other and will continue falling for many years to come.

***

HC doesn’t like watching himself on screen. However, he does enjoy previewing his own movies for the first time with his boyfriend.

While XL watches the new movie, HC observes XL’s reactions. It helps that XL is a conversational movie watcher too. XL’s narrations consist of horny comments during the sexual scenes (“Ooh, that’s hot. Nice tongue.” “Thank you?”), side remarks about the plot and characters (“San Lang, your character is very rude.” “...”), and dramatic reactions to the huge reveal scenes where HC becomes a human punch bag. (“Oh my goooosh, San Lang!! It was him all along- AHH!!”)

As a perfectionist, something you have to be in HC’s field of work, HC is incredibly self-critical of his performance. Which is another reason why it’s nice to have XL watch alongside with, who never has a shortage of praises for his boyfriend.

(HC: “Fuck, why did they leave this shot in the final? I’m supposed to be mourning for my dead lover but instead, I look like I’m crying out of daddy issues. Why did no one tell me!? It looks so bad-” *pointing to himself on the screen* “-stop looking so constipated-!”

XL, squeezing HC’s nape and massaging his shoulders: “San Lang, no one thinks that except for you. You did everything perfectly. Please acknowledge your hard work and just enjoy the movie.”

HC: *sigh* “You’re right. Okay. Thanks, gege.”

A beat of silence. HC cuddles closer to XL.

HC: “Love you.”

XL: “Love you too.”)

***

XL now knows HC’s movies well enough to quote HC’s lines in his movies to make him laugh. HC happily indulges him, questioning after breaking character, “Gege, are you sure I’m the actor out of the two of us?”

One time, HC and XL are in their kitchen re-enacting a scene with HC as the investigator going to a bartender for more information on his suspect. HC has XL caged against the counter, asking in a teasing manner, “How can I repay you for your help tonight?”

XL lowers his eyelids, looking up through his lashes, flawlessly depicting his character. “Any restrictions on your offer?”

“No, darling. Name a price, a brand, a desire. Right now, anything is on the table,” HC says huskily. XL slyly bites his lip.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

XL brings a hand up to cup HC’s jaw, then smooths it down his neck, traveling down his bare chest. XL tilts his head to expose his neck, wanting to build up his boyfriend’s anticipation. But before he can say his next line, HC effortlessly throws XL over his shoulder like a bag of rice.

“San Lang, wait, this is not how it went in the movie!” XL shouts, a little dizzy from the sudden lift turning him upside down. HC takes long strides to their bedroom, plopping XL on their mattress and blanketing him with his larger frame.

HC only utters a husky “we’re improvising” before diving down to devour XL’s lips. XL’s arms hook around HC’s neck, holding him impossibly close.

***

After a filming shoot where HC’s character gets beaten up–HC performing his own stunts–he heads home beyond exhausted. He just wants to take a relaxing shower and cuddle his boyfriend in their warm bed.

HC arrives at their house a little past midnight. He opens the door and finds XL’s back facing him, quietly humming a song as he takes care of the vase in the living room. The sight makes HC smile.

However, as XL turns around, the vase slips from his hands and explodes into pieces on the ground.

“San Lang! What happened to you!?” XL cries out, the panic in his voice only comparable to the day he had confessed. HC stands in the doorway confused. Was something wrong with his appearance?

XL is on him in an instant, his pupils shaking as he frantically asks, “Does it hurt a lot? What happened!?”

HC blinks, expression blank as he still doesn't understand what has freaked XL out. But as the shorter man gently caresses HC’s face, it suddenly hits him.

The make up!

HC urgently starts rubbing the fake bruises off his face. “Gege, I’m okay! It’s just make up, none of this is real. See?” He holds his hands out for XL to see as the pigment stains HC’s palms. “I’m so sorry! San Lang is dumb, he didn’t mean to make you worry,” HC murmurs as he takes XL between his arms. He really loves this man too much.

XL’s teary eyes shine glimmer as HC embraces him. “Y-you’re sure you’re okay?”

HC nods, leaning into the slender hand that cups his cheek.

“Thank goodness,” XL breaths out as he buries his face into HC’s neck. His next words are slightly muffled. “It looks…so realistic.”

“Yeah, the make up artists are all quite talented, aren’t they?”

XL clings tighter to HC.

“Very much so. Let’s shower so we can properly wash it off.”

“All right,” HC says. “Wait, we?”

XL tugs HC toward the master bathroom.

“Hush, let’s go.”

***

They lay in bed together after four long months of separation. Both of them had been in different parts of the country; HC filmed a drama series while XL traveled for several high-profile projects. Their respective busy work schedules limited communication to brief video chats and text messages, which never seemed enough.

Now, with his head resting on HC’s chest, their legs overlapping comfortably, XL finally feels like he’s where he belongs.

“Why did you choose me?”

Tactical fingers massage XL’s scalp, lulling him into a serene state of bliss. XL nuzzles further into his boyfriend-sized pillow.

“It’s not like I can choose who I fall in love with, Gege,” HC states with a light chuckle. “But if you want an answer, it’s because you are everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner.”

XL looks up at his boyfriend, mouth forming a shape of an O.

“That simple? Even when we made a deal to have no strings attached?” XL asks. HC groans at the reminder of their initial agreement.

“Yes, which was a dumb decision on my part.”

“I agreed to it too. We were both dumb.”

They are silent for a moment. It’s not the first time they’ve talked about or referenced their insecurities when it came to confessing their feelings. XL’s luck when it came to dating someone who could love him for every part of him was practically nonexistent. HC’s constant grappling for his self-identity and worth rendered most of his relationships superficial. And temporary.

Always temporary.

“I can’t believe you thought I didn’t like your plants though. They’re so pretty. And fascinating.” HC says, breaking the silence.

“They take up half our living room space.”

“So? You work with plants all day. They’re bound to be a part of your personal life as well.”

XL’s heart bursts with a sudden fondness. It’s a wonderful thing to be appreciated for the little things.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says happily. HC hums in response, sending vibrations to where XL’s cheek lays on his chest. “I can’t believe I didn’t know you were a famous actor for the first three months we…”

“Met up for sex?” HC finishes with an impish grin.

“Yes,” XL laughs.

“It was nice not to be recognized for once. With you, I could just be myself,” HC says with ease he never thought he would be able to do. He’s struggled with letting himself be vulnerable his whole life. It turns out, HC just had to find the right person. And thank god he did. XL is more than HC’s outlet from his career. He’s become HC’s closest friend who knows him the best; he is HC’s number one supporter in any endeavor he pursues; he makes HC feel important. XL sees and loves HC for who he is. No amount of fame or wealth could come close to comparison.

“Gege?”

“Hmm?”

“Does it ever bother you that my life is always everyone else’s business?” HC softly asks.

“Well, the fame can be a bit…uncomfortable,” XL admits. “But you’re an amazing actor. And a remarkable person. I can’t blame your fans for loving you so much, you know? I also got to ride in a limo-“

“Which you rode very well-”

XL flicks his boyfriend’s forehead.

“You’re so predictable.”

“You would’ve said the same thing given the chance. Don’t lie, gege.”

They go back and forth a little longer, never once creating unnecessary distance between each other as they roll around until they’re on their sides. Facing each other in their bed that’s been vacant for months, HC and XL are inseparable.

“As I was saying, fame is something that comes with your job–your passion. You can’t control it, nor does it solely characterize who you are. Besides, I get to be a part of your life! That’s all that really matters,” XL continues. He shifts forward so their bodies are closely pressed together. XL plants a kiss on HC’s chin, then whispers a confession that tilts HC’s entire world on its axis.

“I’ve been waiting my whole life for someone like you.”

HC’s world spins and spins until all that he sees is his beloved, gleaming brighter than all the galaxies without the power to disrupt their orbit. He wraps his arms around XL and kisses the top of his head.

“Me too, Gege.”

Bonus:

HC watches wearily as XL salivates at a showering scene where HC’s bare ass flashes in the frame. XL turns to HC with a serious look in his eyes.

“San Lang! Hiking has done your ass wonders.”

XL sneaks a grope to a meaty cheek. HC chokes.

***

“You can’t be late to your own premiere!” XL cries incredulously.

“Try me,” HC purrs into XL’s ear, delicately kissing the lobe.

XL gasps as teasing hands roam around his torso, one of them slipping down to cup his behind. He vaguely thinks about how SQX is expecting them in the next hour to help with their red carpet outfits. But when hungry lips attach to the sensitive column of his neck, XL is a goner.

“Gege doesn’t have to do any work. Just lay back and look pretty.”

(Brainchild with @no-one-says-hi!)

[yourfangirlfriend]

It’s Nothing Serious

Chapter One

Multi-chapter if enough interest

Rating: E!

Summary: Well, your new neighbor certainly knows how to entertain his guests

It’s not serious

At least, not enough that you’d complain. It’s just sex. And it’s not unbearably loud. Honestly, you’re happy someone is having a good time. Unlike his bedroom (and, from the sound of it, his couch, his kitchen island, his front door), yours has been woefully quiet since you moved in. So, even though it’s annoying, those nights you can’t sleep and you’re staring up at the ceiling as the muffled moans and groans echo through the wall, you have to think:

Good for her.

Maybe it’s not a conventional way to learn your neighbor’s name, but after a week sharing a wall you’re pretty confident it’s Javi. Javier, if the woman he’s entertaining is feeling particularly formal. You’ve never seen him – heard him plenty, sure – but what little glimpses you almost catch are always just as he’s disappearing into his apartment or out the door. You’re not sure what you’d say, anyway – hey, I’m your neighbor, you have quite the voluminous orgasm – so you don’t make an effort to introduce yourself. Besides, if your shared wall is anything to go by, he seems quite busy.

Still, that doesn’t stop you from imagining it. You haven’t had time to meet many men since you moved down to begin your teaching job, and you haven’t made enough friends to go out with and find some. So, your first few months are just you, your hand, and what inspiration leaks through the walls you are increasingly becoming convinced are made of rice paper. You’re not proud of it, but it’s a healthier stress reliever than the cigarettes in your purse or the tequila you keep in your kitchen. Besides, if he was worried about someone listening, he could move his fucking bed. Or at least put a sock or something between the wall and the headboard.

One night though, you’re reckless. It’s been a particularly rough day at the school – how do you tell a bunch of kids some of their classmates died in a bombing? – and you’ve drunk your dinner and smoked dessert. Now you’re on your bed, hand down the front of your trousers, fingering yourself like a virgin trying to break their hymen so prom night won’t be a disaster. Behind you, Javier – well, Javi! tonight – is absolutely wrecking some lucky woman. Luckily, she doesn’t have that breathy baby voice the girl Saturday had, and every sound that came from the two of them was enough for you to lose yourself in the fantasy. It’s probably – well, that and the alcohol, the insane amount of stress and just a general lack of shits to give – why you let out such a loud moan when you finally cum on your fingers, unaware that your vocal contribution was not, as you assumed it would be, covered by the sounds coming from the next room, and instead cut through the rare silence that interspersed your neighbor’s rounds. It's only when you’ve come down from your high that you snap back up with the shattering realization that they definitely heard you.

The shame is multiplied in the morning, when your head is aching you sleep past your alarm. You try to shove it down, along with what little stomach contents you have left, as you pull your work clothes on and rush towards the door, a black heel in your hand as you turn the doorknob and rush outside. You lock the door before bracing against it to put your shoe on, your messy bun flopping forward when you see a pair of blue jeans and shoes standing in front of his own door.

Of course it’s today.

With your shoe secure, you stand back up and make eye contact with the subject of your masturbation sessions for the past three months. You two stand there for a moment, taking the other in. Annoyingly, he is good-looking. You’re somewhat lost in his eyes a bit before you catch yourself, and remember you’ve got fifteen minutes before a class full of eight-year-olds are left in a room with no supervision, scissors, and a very old and anxious pet hamster.

“Good morning, Javier,” you say before you can stop yourself. His eyebrows raise in surprise as you make a b-line for the doors, throwing them open and walking your burning face outside.

Maybe, deep down, you wanted this to happen. You never smoke outside your building, especially not once you got that window seat set up. Still, here you are at 5:30 pm standing outside your apartment complex smoking your second cigarette. You’re not sure if he’s home already, or held up doing whatever he does, but you still feel the desire to try. So you take another long drag and lean your head back, exhaling the puff of smoke into the sky above.

You jump when the door behind you swings open and there he is, his own cigarette caught between his lips. He doesn’t notice you at first, too concentrated on lighting the end. After a few attempts, he sighs and shoves the lighter back into his pocket.

“Need a light?” You ask.

He looks up and regards you for the second time that day. You extend your hand out, offering the cheap red lighter you bought from a corner shop your first night here. He hesitates a moment before reaching out and taking it from you.

You take a drag, considering his profile as he sparks up. You like his nose in particular and the way his dark eyes focus on the simple task at hand. You’re so entranced you visibly snap back when his eyes meet yours, handing back the lighter.

“Thanks,” he says around the cigarette. You wave your wrist before dropping the thing back in your purse. The two of you stand in the silence for a second, watching the empty street before you.

“So, you’re the new neighbor?”

You shrug. “Newish.”

“New to me,” he says. He turns towards you and extends a hand. “What’s your name?”

You mirror him and lean against the handrail by the stairs. “Eloise.”

He chuckles. “Like the kids’ books?”

“Yeah, my mom was the author.” You say with a straight face. His eyebrows shoot up.

“Really?” he asks.

“No. I’m fucking with you,” you bring the cigarette back up to your lips. His stupid, handsome face breaks out into a smile before he turns back to the front.

“Got me.” He brings the cigarette to his lips and inhales again before turning to look at you.

“Thanks for the light, Eloise.”

“Anytime.”

He gives you a nod before he starts down the stairs. You watch him, letting the cigarette in your hand burn and die as your eyes follow him down the block until he disappears around a turn.

You’re not sure if it's unconscious, but you run into him in the mornings a lot more now. Sometimes he’s got his nightly companions with him, but most mornings it’s the two of you rushing out of your respective apartments. It starts with the usual greetings followed by an awkward, silent, shared walk through the doors and down the stairs before unceremoniously parting at their end. Sometimes he holds the door open for you, and you give him a hurried smile and nod as you rush through, your heels click-clacking against the tile before stepping down onto the concrete stairs. You can feel his eyes on your back when you walk down before him those days. It makes your face hot.

Perhaps a week into this routine you notice he’s begun smoking outside more when you return from work. He nods at you, and most evenings you find yourself joining him. As if payback for your early generosity, he always holds out his lighter to spark your cigarette. At first, it's just silent smoking sessions, the two of you standing in the quiet until someone finishes and throws their butt to the ground first. Then the little questions start. That second talk you discover you’re both from Texas – him from Laredo, you from El Paso. He asks if you know some shithead kids he went to school with, and you actually recognize one of the names. When he smiles at that, you find yourself wishing you knew them all.

One Friday when you return, you find him in his usual spot, leaning against the wall in those too tight blue jeans and a stupid pastel button-up– you’ve never seen a man with so many button-ups. You instinctively reach for your pack when he speaks up.

“You want to get a drink, neighbor?”

It’s nothing serious.

It’s just a drink. Or three.

You’re sat across from him, a slowly filling ashtray between the two of you. The conversation has stayed mostly light – how was your day, how was work (he works at the embassy, you’re not sure doing what), want another? It’s perfectly plain, and it almost feels like a drink you’d get with your brother when he finally asks:

“How’d you know my name?”

You almost choke on the sip you were taking. Coughing, you put the glass on the table and ask him to repeat himself, as if you didn’t hear him the first time.

“My name,” he says, and the way his voice emphasizes the word sends a tingle down your spine. “The morning we met.”

You wonder if you’re drunk enough to answer this truthfully. You take a drag of your cigarette.

“You’re smiling,” he says, breaking out into a grin. Underneath the table, you feel his knee hit yours and it’s like a shock across your skin.

“It’s, uh,” you exhale, taking the excuse to look anywhere else but at him. Emboldened by the drink, or maybe it’s just him, he nudges your hand.

“Go on, then.”

“Your, ah, guests.” You laugh.

“My-” he stops, realizing what you’re saying. The two of you hold eye contact for a second before descending into a fit of giggles.

“I, uh,” his hand goes to the back of his neck. “Ha…wow.”

“Hey, you should be proud,” you say. “It sounds like they’re having a great time.” You reach out for his lighter to re-light your cigarette. “Should move that fucking headboard, though. Like a drum major, some nights.”

He watches you as you inhale, running his thumb across his annoyingly puffy, never quite closed lips. You don’t realize you’re staring at them until his knee hits yours once again, jolting you back to the present.

“Maybe my guests could learn some manners from yours,” he says. You shake your head, too drunk to let the compliment lie.

“What guests,” you laugh.

“You know. Your gentleman callers.” He jokes. You roll your eyes and take another sip of your drink.

“Haven’t had a gentleman caller since I moved down here,” you admit. His eyebrows raise and you shoot him a look.

“Oh shut up,”

“I’m just surprised is all,” he says. “You…look like you. I thought you’d be knocking them back with a bat.”

“Flirt,” you chide. You shake your head. “Sadly, no. Only room for one Cassanova on the bottom floor,” you wink at him.

“There was-“ he begins, then closes his mouth. He reaches for his drink.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he smiles. You kick him under the table.

“What,”

“It’s not polite,” he teases you.

“Go on, I’m drunk enough.”

“I heard something…once. First time I realized someone actually lived there.” He laughs, bringing the glass to his lips. “Sounded like fun. Lucky guy.”

You laugh.

“…girl?” he offers, a sly smile playing across his lips.

“You could say that,” you laugh. He holds your gaze for a moment and you burst into giggles under his scrutiny.  “Look, sometimes a girl is lonely and…” you giggle again. You’re definitely drunk. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

“No, go on, I’m intrigued,” he says, placing his drink back down and leaning forward. You flick your eyes back up to him.

“I mean…you’d get a bit jealous, wouldn’t you? Some woman next door is having the time of her life-”

“ ‘Time of her life'? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You roll your eyes and swirl your empty drink. “and you’re just…look, it’s been a long….”

Oh god. You do the math and cringe at the duration since the last time you got laid. You shake your head.

“A girl’s got needs. You seem to know all about that.” You laugh.

“Do I?” he asks, his voice noticeably deeper. You look up at him and see how dark his eyes are. His tongue darts out and wets his lips as those same eyes dip down from your face to your chest, your hands, back up to your lips.

“I…” you smile.

…Fuck.

It’s not serious.

It’s not.

It’s just two neighbors, very neighborly, fucking each other absolutely senseless.

You knew this is where it was going when you agreed to drinks. If you hadn’t, you knew the minute he asked you that question.

Do I?

Fuck off.

So when he offered to buy another round, you agreed. When he came back and sat next to you on the bench, you let him. By the end of the fourth drink, his hand was on your thigh, having pushed up your cute pencil skirt, and his mouth was on your ear, whispering the kinds of things he must have used on countless women before you. It worked, though, because after that last drink you were taking the hand he offered and following him out of the bar, down the street, and back into his apartment.

Once he got you inside, he was surprised to see you taking it all in. He came up behind you, his hands slipping around your waist as his mouth nipped at your neck.

“See something interesting?” he asked, annoyed your focus wasn’t solely on him.

“Feels like I’ve been let backstage,” you laugh, turning around and looping your arms around his neck.

“Yeah?” he leans forward and captures your mouth for the first time in a loud, puckering peck. You smile when he pulls away.

“Yeah, you won’t believe what I had to do to the security guard to get back here,” you shake your head.

“I think I can imagine,” he pulls you back into a kiss. His hands trail down your sides, traveling further down until he’s grasping at your ass through your skirt. You let out a sigh and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. You let out a small groan at the intrusion, reaching up and threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. You bite his top lip as his hands glide up to fiddle with the zipper at the back of your skirt. Breaking the kiss, you begin to play with the button at the nape of his neck.

“You have…”

“What?” he breathes. The zipper is down and his hand slips between the fabric, grabbing your bare ass. God, what a good day to wear a thong.

You laugh. “So many button-ups,” you spring the first button free and dip your face down to kiss his neck in a show of appreciation. He lets out a soft moan as you continue to work the buttons free, your hands taking a moment to explore the expanse of skin before moving on to the next. You feel him shimmy your skirt down and you aid him by working your hips until the fabric falls to the floor. As if he’s out of patience, he pulls the shirt over his head and tosses it somewhere, his attention back on your lips as he cups your face and brings you in for another deep, searing kiss. And god, what a mouth. It’s plump and plush and so soft.

It takes a lot to break away from them.

“Bed, I think,” you huff. He nods, his hand dropping down to grab your hand and pull you along the empty hallways towards the bedroom – a strange mirror to your own apartment. Once he’s got the door open he pulls you inside until you tumble into him, pressed against his front with a giggle.

“Take this off,” he says, pulling at the hem of your shirt. You let him pull it over your head and drop it to the floor. In a move that’s too practiced, he unclasps your bra and lets it fall with the shirt before cupping your breasts in his big, warm hands. Heat pools between your thighs – god, it really has been long – and you find yourself pushing him back towards the bed. He falls back with a thump, looking up at you expectantly.

You reach up, pulling your hair out of its hold and letting it fall to your shoulders. Holding his gaze, you hook your fingers around the hem of your underwear and pull them down until you can pull one leg out. Tossing them somewhere in the dark, you lower yourself onto him, crawling up his body until you sit astride his hips and begin to unbuckle his belt and fiddle with the zipper. When he springs free, you smile.

“Of course you don’t wear underwear,” you say. He smiles as he sits up, reaching to pull your mouth down to his.

“Just gets in the way,” he says before his lips press against yours again. You reach down and take him in your hand, slowly jerking up and down as he lets out little breathy sighs in your mouth. You increase the pace, enjoying hearing his noises for once before he pulls away from you and sits upon his knees on the bed.

“What-”

“Lay back,” he instructs, pulling the jeans down before falling onto his back and kicking them off. You lower yourself down, watching as he rolls off the bed and stalks towards its end. One hand wraps around your ankle and pulls you down, causing you to squeak in surprise. His hands trace up the insides of your legs, and it’s a beat before you realize what he’s about to do. His lips follow his finger’s trail, leaving open mouth kisses until he’s there and his hot breath on you is enough to make you cum right then and there. You screw your eyes shut as you feel a finger enter you, and despite yourself you let out a small moan. Proud of himself, he pulls back and thrusts back into you before bringing his lips down to wrap around your clit. You buck up against him, which only encourages him to add another finger and swirl his tongue around you.

“Fuck-” you breathe, reaching down to fist the sheet beside you. He pumps into you again and you try your best to keep the moan threatening to escape caught in your throat. He sucks at you, lazily pumping in until you’re too slick and squirming against him, urging him to go faster because you’re so so so close. Devilishly, he licks your length before circling your bundle of nerves with his thumbs, looking up at you as your back arches and your foot kicks out.  

“Keep- keep-”

Then.

Then.

The fucking bastard pulls his hand back.

Absolutely outraged you shoot up to see him standing, sucking his fingers.

“Why did you stop?” You breathe. He smiles as he pulls his hand from his mouth.

“Was wondering why you’re being so quiet,” he laughs. “Thought I wasn’t living up to the hype.”

“You were,” you insist. He smiles as he walks around to his nightstand and pulls the drawer open. You hear the foil packet tear before you can see the glint in the light.

“I think I’ll have to do better,” he says once he’s settled back on the bed. He pulls you astride of him, and you feel the head of his cock press against your entrance. You let out a shaky breath as his hands grip at your hips.

“Don’t be afraid to make noise,” he says, kissing along your jaw. “My neighbor likes to listen.”

“Oh fuck y-” the words turn into a moan as he pushes up into you, stretching you out across him. You let out a fluttering gasp as you take all of him in, so warm and big and good. When he bucks up into you again, you let out a girly, breathy gasp, then again when he rocks your hips back and forth. Before you know it you’re pressing him down into the mattress, righting yourself against the banging headboard as you bounce on top of him, impaling yourself on him and the aching stretch of him inside you. You let out another moan as he brings a hand up and slaps your ass, and you suddenly realize how easy it must have been for these women to lose themselves shamelessly in the noise and feeling.

“Like that,” he says, his own voice deep and breathy. “Just like that, baby.”

You hum as you roll your hips against his, your clit pressed against the wiry hairs that cover his public bone. Without warning, though, you find yourself being knocked onto your side and hauled up on your hands and knees. Before you can say anything, he rocks back into you, causing you to let out another loud gasp as he begins to fuck you from behind. You bite your lip as he plunges in and out of you, the pace is more quick and unforgiving than it had been. The feeling inside you builds and you squeeze your eyes shut, reaching up in between your legs to touch yourself.

“Fuck…fuck,” you head from behind you. You speed your fingers up and he continues to fuck you, your moans coming fast and ragged now. What was happening? You were never particularly loud before, but now-

“I’m going-“ you warn him. He slams back into you as if encouraging you, and you’re just so full of him and that sweet slide of him inside you and your fingers working in small circles. You’re surprised, then, when you feel his hand fall on your shoulder and pull you up onto your knees, his hands groping at your breasts as he bites where your neck meets your shoulder. You let out a groan as he pinches a nipple and fucks up and into you.

“I’m-”

“Cum,” he instructs, and it’s enough. You clench around him, harder than you have in months. You let out a cry as you ride out the spasms, the firmness of him inside you feeling so impossibly good and foreign. He follows not long after, and you feel him pulse inside you as he cums, a little pathetic cry escaping his lips.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, panting and sweaty. After a moment, you feel his hands on your hips relax, and slowly, almost tenderly, he pulls out of you Exhausted, as if he was the only thing keeping you up, you fall forward onto your stomach, letting out a hefty exhale.

Behind you, you hear him shuffle around, take off the condom, and go dispose of it in the kitchen. A minute later you feel his weight on the bed once more next to you, and you turn to look up at him. He’s got two cigarettes in his mouth and lights one after the other. Satisfied they won’t go out, he plucks one from his lips and holds one out to you.

“What a gentleman,” you say, bringing it to your lips. He chuckles and relaxes down next to you.

“What was it you said? I know all about a girl’s needs?”  he sends you an impish look. You roll your eyes.

“One fuck after nine months of celibacy doesn’t make you a god,” you laugh, taking a drag. He shakes his head.

“Give me thirty minutes.”

It’s nothing serious. It’s nothing serious. It’s nothing serious.