#but it genuinely just makes me so fucking mad and enraged being told i can’t release something until a very specific thing happens which ???

[jasonntodd]

.

[just-jordie-things]

A Lover And A Fighter - Richie Tozier

word count: 3122 warnings: swearing, sight sexual harassment summary: Richie promised (y/n) that he wouldn’t get into fights anymore, but sometimes he just can’t help himself.  Especially when it comes to protecting her.

___

It was an understatement to say that Richie was protective of you.  The boy was downright insane about it.  Everyone in Derry knew not to fuck with (y/n), not unless they wanted Richie Tozier tracking them down and beating them half to death.

You’d given him a talk numerous times.  But not once did they work, it always went in one ear and out the other..

He’d beaten up three ex boyfriends, a couple guys that looked at you the wrong way, and Greta Keene.  He was proud of that amount.

But he’d promised that he would try his best not to act out on your behalf anymore.  And you made him pinky promise.  That’s a big deal.  And he didn’t want to break your trust or your promise.

However… once he walked past Henry Bowers and his dumbass friends, and heard your name being mentioned, he couldn’t stop himself from getting involved.

“What was that?” He spoke before he could think things through.

The boys turned to him, each bearing a scowl that wasn’t out of character.

“I said, (y/n’s) not fucking worth it,” Henry practically growled out.  “Now why don’t you fuck off, Tozier?”

“Your damn fucking right it’s not worth it,” Richie spat back, turning away, doing the right thing.  “I’d break your goddamn nose” He muttered under his breath.

“It’s not worth it to try and get in her pants,” Henry called out before Richie could walk far enough away.

He stopped in his tracks.

“Cause she’s such a slut anyways, it’s not a real victory to fuck-”

Richie had never whipped around so fast.  And with the punch he delivered went all common sense, and all the promises and reassurances he’d given you to prove he was going to ‘mature’ as you’d begged him to do. ___

“Hey, Richie,” You held your phone between your ear and shoulder as you painted your toes.  “This is like, my fifth message… so… call me back, I guess.  Okay, bye”

You sighed as you set the phone back on it’s holster.  Richie wasn’t the type of guy to stand you up, especially on taco tuesday.  And even if something came up, he always always, called.  But now he couldn’t even bother to return one of your calls, leaving you to assume that he was upset with you for some reason, and therefore ignoring you.

You weren’t sure what you did, and at this point, you also weren’t sure that he was going to tell you either.

When Richie didn’t want to talk to someone, he was the damn best at avoiding them.

But he’d never given you the cold shoulder.  And there was a time that you’d thought he never would.  Richie was your best friend, you trusted and confided in him more than anyone else, even the other Losers.  And in the last seven years of being his best friend, he’d never treated you this way.  In fact, he always treated you amazingly, like a princess, it was very surprising actually, the way he cared about you.

It was that care that always led him to picking fights where he shouldn’t be, though.  It started with your ex boyfriend.  He broke up with you once a ‘better, prettier’ girl showed interest (his words), and the next thing you knew, Richie was throwing him against the lockers.

When your next boyfriend straight up cheated on you, Richie took care of him too.

He broke the third one’s nose.

And then there was the Greta Keene incident… Beverly may have let it slip that Greta had been writing nasty rumors about you in the girls bathrooms.  And Richie declared that he didn’t have a problem beating up a girl if it was justified (and if that girl had man arms).  That was when you drew the line, and made Richie swear to try and control his anger.  And he pinkie promised to work on it, and that he wouldn’t get into any more fights over you.

You weren’t sure why he got so enraged over these things.  It was just drama, and you found it pointless that he tried to bring you justice, since he was so reckless about it.

It was getting late, and you knew that Richie wasn’t going to return your calls.  So you finished painting your toenails blue, and decided to spend the night in your room, reading, alone.

Even though you should have been eating a bunch of tacos and gossiping with Richie.

Just as you got situated in bed, and had turned off the overhead light in exchange for the soft glow of your lamp on the bedside table, there was a knock on the window.

When you glanced over, you could tell it was Richie by his silhouette, and you frowned slightly.

Nonetheless, you got up and unlocked the window, before sliding it open.

“Where the hell have you been?” You asked.

He could tell that you couldn’t see his face very well.

“Busy, you gonna let me in?” He grinned.

“Richie, it’s-” You glanced over your shoulder to the alarm clock on your table, before glaring back at him.  “-midnight.  Are you kidding me? Did I do something to piss you off?”

“What? (y/n/n), no-”

“Then how come you were dodging all my calls? And you’re seven hours late?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest..

Richie crawled in through the window, even though you hadn’t invited him in yet.  But he figured it was only a matter of time before you cave anyways.

Your distressed face disappeared as you caught sight of him now that he was in the light.  His left eye was bruising, and so was his right cheekbone.  Along with a split lip and a bloody nose, it was clear what had happened.

“Oh, Richie…” You mumbled, hand reaching up to cover your mouth as your eyes widened at the sight of him.  “Tell me you didn’t-”

“Look it’s not what you think-” Richie tried to protest.

“Don’t give me that shit”

He knew he fucked up, because you weren’t yelling.  Your voice was soft, and low.  You were heartbroken.

He stared down at the ground, too anxious to look at you anymore.  Not when you looked so disappointed in him.  

“You promised- you-you pinky promised me-”

“I know-! I know and I’m sorry, really, I’m really fucking sorry” He told you, desperately hoping that you’d forgive him.

You shook your head at him, and gestured for him to sit before you left the room.  Richie was the most frustratingly complicated person that you knew, and it drove you insane.  Why he couldn’t just walk away and not beat the shit out of people… you weren’t sure.  But it really hurt you that he didn’t even seem to try, and he broke his promise.

Richie was sitting on the side of your bed when you came back into the room.  He chuckled as he eyed the first aid kit in your hands, the same one that you’ve used the last four or five times you dealt with the aftermath of his episodes of rages.

“You don’t have t-”

“Yes I do” You cut him off and unpacked what you’d need.

You were upset, you were fuming, actually.  It angered you that Richie broke his promise, not even a month after making it.  That promise was important to you, because he was important to you.  And now here he was, waiting to be fixed up by you once again after he so stupidly, so recklessly got himself beaten to a pulp.

But no matter how angry you were, you remained silent.  Dabbing at the excess blood under his nose, which at least wasn’t bleeding anymore.  And when you were finished with his cheek, you moved on to rubbing cream over the bruise on his cheek.  Richie’s eyes fell shut as he sighed in relief at the feeling of the cool lotion, and your gentle fingers.

He knew your silence wasn’t a good thing.  In fact, it was the worst thing.  It meant he messed up beyond redemption.  And he’d never fucked up that bad before.  Sure, he’d pissed you off and frustrated you on the daily, but that was just the hallmark of his friendship, and it was never anything serious.  Just when he dragged you out in the middle of the night for slushies, or got you in trouble in class because he was running his mouth.  He’d never made you this genuinely upset before.

“(y/n)-”

“Save it” You muttered before he could even start with the apologies.

That was another hallmark of his friendship.  You knew what came next.  The apologies, the excuses, the begging for your forgiveness, followed by a playful ‘you know you love me, you need me’ and puppy dog eyes that you couldn’t refuse.  Except tonight, you might just be able to.

He took you by surprise when he didn’t protest, and snapped his mouth shut.  Your eyes met his for a moment, before you started applying a smaller amount of lotion on the bruise surrounding his eye.  It was going to look a lot worse in the morning, but this would help with the pain now.

You hated that your heart ached for him right now.  You hated that you wanted to cry and hold him and make him feel better.  Because you were so fucking mad-

“I don’t understand,” The words suddenly spilled out of your mouth, as if your mind just couldn’t take them swimming around in your head anymore.  “I just- I- I don’t fucking get it”

He nodded, ducking his head down, only for you to lift it back up by his chin and continue with the lotion.

“I care about you, dumbass, and all I asked, which I thought was simple, all I asked was for you to stop with the fighting-”

“I know” He mumbled back.

You stared at him skeptically, wondering if he really did know, or if he’d show up again in a few weeks with the same battered face and guilty look in his eyes.  Richie didn’t look back at you.  He couldn’t.

“Who?” You asked, trying to soften your voice so he wouldn’t whither away from you like he was doing right now.

“You’re not gonna like it” Richie answered, fingers pinching at your bedsheets in an attempt to distract himself.  From the pain that burned across his whole face, or from the intensity in your eyes, he wasn’t sure, but he needed the distraction.

He hadn’t had a smoke in months, but it sounded pretty damn good right now.

“Well, newsflash, I don’t like any of this,” You told him.  “But I think I deserve to at least know what happened”

Of course you do, Richie hung his head in his hands.  You deserve so, so much better.

You watched as he rubbed his palms over his eyes, and it took everything in your power not to take his hands and hold them in yours, to tell him it was okay and you forgave him.

“Bowers”

He muttered the single word without even looking at you.  But he didn’t have to look at you to know exactly what you looked like in that moment.  You probably had a dropped jaw and furrowed brows.  Disappointment, disgust, anger, all displayed in one heartbreaking look.

“Richie…” You murmured without meaning to.  “Why? Why would you-”

“I had to, okay?” He shot up suddenly.  “I know that you hate it, and as soon as I swung I- I knew I fucked up, but I had to”

You wanted to argue it, argue that there’s always another option, that he can always walk away.  But you bit your tongue.  Something about the way he spoke told you that there was more to this than his stupidity.

“I’m sorry, (y/n/n), I am.  But I… I don’t regret it”

Your heart sunk all the way down to your stomach.  Richie had such a toll on your emotions and he didn’t even know it.

“Tell me what happened” You said quietly, and shifted closer to him.

You wanted him to know he had your undivided attention, and that he should have the chance to at least explain what happened.  You pulled your leg up to rest on the mattress, and turned your body to face him.

Richie looked at you before looking back down at his hand, which was now fisted in your blankets.

“Richie,” You hummed, brows furrowing as you saw how reluctant he was to opening up.  “Tell me” The words were so soft, it was almost inaudible.

You wondered what Henry could have done that Richie didn’t want to tell you about.  He must have really outdone himself.

“He was just talking shit-”

“Richie,” You cut off his bullshit before he could even start.  “Come on, the truth”  

“It’s not-”

“I deserve to know, Tozier! Whatever it is, I don’t care, okay? Just tell me-”

“He said you weren’t worth sleeping with!”

Just like that, you’d gotten him to snap.

And you shut up instantly, shocked by the outburst.  His words processed slowly in your head.

“He said it wasn’t worth trying because you’re- because you’re a slut, and it wasn’t fucking true!” Richie continued to yell.  Not at you, he just couldn’t contain his own anger anymore.

And you thought you were pissed.

“Motherfucker had your name in his nasty fucking mouth and he was telling his buddies fucking lies and I couldn’t- fuck I couldn’t walk away.  I should’ve fucking killed him”

You were staring at him, speechless.  You should’ve known it was about you, Richie was always so fiercely protective of you.  And Henry’s wouldn’t be the first nose that he’d broken protecting you.  But this wasn’t like before.  He’d beaten on your ex boyfriends after they broke your heart.  Henry hadn’t said or done anything to you, he was just doing what boys do.  (Make shit up because they think it makes them impressive when really they’re even shittier than they look)

“I didn’t mean to break your promise,” Richie huffed.  His face was slightly flushed after his mini tantrum.  His hands grabbed both of yours, holding them close to him.  “I’m so sorry I put you through this again”

You were still silent, but he knew this wasn’t a bad silence.  You were still processing, still trying to figure out how to forgive him while making sure this was the last time he crawls through your window looking like this.

“I hope you know that it came from a place of- of caring about you,” He added.  “Caring about you too much, I guess” He mumbled as an afterthought.

Your stupid lovesick heart skipped a beat at the sweet words.  Richie wasn’t one for words, at all, but he somehow managed to say the most loving things without even realizing it.

“I can’t promise it won’t happen again, that much is clear.  And if Bowers says one more goddamn thing about your ass I’ll fucking string him up- I will- but I can promise I’ll try, okay? I will, I’ll really try”

He squeezed your hands a little bit, hoping you believed him, hoping you trusted him.

Your eyes flickered between his for a moment, and you could see in them that he was being sincere, and that he was broken up over hurting you.

“You…” He started to speak, but trailed off unsurely.  “You deserve better” He finished.

His eyes flickered to yours for a brief moment, before he turned away.

You shake your head, before you let go of one of his hands, and took his chin between your thumb and index finger, turning him to look back at you.

“(y/n/n)-”

You cut him off when you leaned in and gently kissed him, trying to be mindful of his split lip.

Richie’s eyes remained focused on your closed ones, too stunned to close them, or really kiss her back.

He wanted to kick himself when you pulled away.  He managed to miss his fucking chance because he was too slow to do anything about it.

Your eyes fluttered open in such a beautiful way Richie swore you were holding his heart in your perfect little hands.

His brows were furrowed like you’d confused him, and you absolutely had.  He hadn’t expected you to kiss him.

“Why’d you do that?” He asked breathlessly, and your cheeks burned pink.

Your shoulders raised a bit in a shrug, and you had to bite your lip to keep from smiling too much.

“I just… wanted to” You whispered.

A smile twitched on the corner of Richie’s lips before his hand cupped your cheek, and he pulled you in again, so he could kiss you right this time.

Your lips were just as soft, if not softer, than he’d imagined they’d be.  And he’d imagined countless times what they’d feel like.  Daydreaming in class, before he fell asleep, and being right by your side for the last seven years.

Kissing you was bliss.

He did it again, taking your face in both of his hands and pulling you impossibly closer.  He could feel your lips smiling against his own, and once again, his heart was beating out of his chest trying to get to yours.

“I’m in love with you, (y/n/n)” He murmured when you parted, and you laughed softly.

“That makes sense,” You replied, reaching a hand up to play with the curls on the back of his neck.  “And… I love you too”

Richie gave you a sunshine smile, which you couldn’t help but return.

“I’m still upset, by the way,” You told him, still playing with the curls.  “But only cause I’m tired of seeing you covered in bruises, okay?”

He nodded, and you leaned your cheek further against the palm of his hand.

“I promise to try” He said, and then raised his pinky.

You looked from his hand and then back to him, a slight glare in your eyes.

“Come on, just do it,” He urged, you rolled your eyes, but he was persistent.  “Just link fuckin’ pinkies with me”

With a giggle you hooked your pinky with his, and held it for a moment.

“You want to go get tacos now?” He asked, and you grinned, nodding your head.

“You read my mind” You answered, and followed him back out the window.

It dawned on you that Richie was both your lover and your fighter.  And he held those titles proudly.

As he took your hand and walked alongside you down the street, he decided there were no other title he’d want to be labeled, besides yours. ___

taglist: @thegr8kush​

xoxo ~ jordie

[hyunjilicious]

that night [harry styles]

A best friends to something else type of story. Exactly 7.8k (literally 7800 words which is scary) and you know I can’t write that much without SMUT. This takes place during a sleepover at the end of quarantine! Maybe tell me what you thought? :) (I promise I’ll edit this soon!)

-

“Show me yer phone, love” Harry groaned, sending you the coldest of death stares. The night started off as usual, you two just watching some old documentaries, paying more or less attention to them as you mostly just sat and talked. Things took a turn when your phone started blowing up with messages. Being the kind of person who always replies in an instant, suspicions arose when you decided to completely ignore the texts. Although Harry never violated your privacy and never pushed you for answers you didn’t want to give, when you started laughing and got nervous about whoever it was that kept texting you, he figured it would be worth it to push your buttons.

“I said no” you repeated yourself, standing up from the couch. There were two main reasons you didn’t want to talk about the person texting you, and these 2 reasons were also probably the only two things in the world you wouldn’t want to discuss with him.

“Why no’?” he asked offended, following you into the kitchen, like a small child begging his parents to let him have his way, “What can be tha’ bad? I wouldn’t have asked any questions if yeh hadn’t been so off about it from the start”

You turned and looked at him dead in the eye, contemplating what to say next. He beat you to it.

“Is it a guy? Have you been seein’ someone?” Harry asked as he walked over to you, completely ignoring your personal space. “Is tha’ it? I don’t wanna read yeh texts, just tell me yes or no, and I’ll drop it. Promise”

You took a deep breath. “Yes, it’s a guy” you said calmly, “But we’re not seeing each other”

“Then why does he keep texting yeh like crazy?”

“Crazy…” you sighed, tapping your chin, “Good description”

“Come on, Y/n” Harry whined, tapping your shoulder as he walked past you and towards the refrigerator, “Just tell me, I’m really curious, crazy how?”

“Promise you’re not gonna freak out?” you laughed, grabbing whatever he was pulling out of the fridge and handing to you. You stopped paying attention after three cups of pudding and one bottle of wine.

“When have I ever freaked out?” he joked, mocking himself. He was usually a calm person, more composed than anyone you’ve ever met, and he less than rarely got angry. And from those times when he did lose his temper, 90% of cases were mild and he was still calmer than anyone else in that kind of situation, but that 10% left was pure terror. When his friends told you years ago that nothing’s scarier than Harry when he was truly mad, you didn’t quite believe them. You had to see for yourself to accept it. It only happened a few times in almost 5 years, but you always still did everything you could to keep him from going off again.

“Ok, so” you started speaking as you rummaged around your kitchen for bowls and glasses, “His name is Marcus and we actually met on Tinder-”

“Wait a second” he cut you off, “During the lock down?”

“Oh, no. It happened before all of this madness. Around january, I think”

It was obvious he was already bothered by how this conversation started, but he did his best to control himself so you wouldn’t decide to drop it. “Pretty serious, then, huh?” he said eventually.

“Literally the opposite” you laughed, pouring the pudding into the bowl, “We saw each other once-” and it hurt you to say the following part but you did it nonetheless, “hooked up, and didn’t talk since”

Pure annoyance was readable on his features. “Apparently haven’t talked until now?”

“Yeah, I mean-” you cringed, “He texted me like a week or so ago and we didn’t - vibe, and he got weird, so like I muted the conversation for 7 days because I didn’t want him to bother me anymore but he got so defensive it was funny so I didn’t really wanna block him”

“Yeh muted the guy a week ago and he still keeps trying?” Harry asked, completely taken aback, “Can’t blame him, but still, tha’s a bit much”

“It is” you nodded in agreement, and motioned for him to open the bottle of wine for you.

“He must have liked yeh a lot” he mumbled, twisting the corkscrew into the top of the bottle, “Maybe you two had a really great time, and he-”

“Harry” you stopped him, leaning your head to the side, “I know you’re squeezing information out of me right now, but I honestly don’t think you want to hear more of this”

“Ok” he sighed defeated, “I’m gonna stop pushin’ yeh. Thanks for tellin’ me tho. And sorry if I crossed any lines''

“You haven’t, H” you smiled, giving him a hug from behind. “It’s fine”

After gathering everything you had fixed up to take into the living room, the pudding and the wine, as you passed the threshold of the kitchen, you heard Harry speak up, traces of amusement audible in his voice. “But like… At least was the sex good?”

“You want me to answer that?” you chuckled, plopping down on the couch. “Do you seriously want me to answer that?”

“Yeah” Harry shrugged, smiling innocently.

“It was horrible” you said bluntly and watched his grin wilt away. “Probably the worst sex I’ve ever had. No, no, no.. Definitely the worst sex I have ever had in my entire life”

His mouth fell agape. “Seriously? Why?”

“Well, i got to his house… And you know, up until then everything was fine, like he seemed like a completely normal and fun guy while we texted but like, as soon as i got to his place he became really… I don’t even know how to put it, he was um.. Very clingy and weird and we talked for a bit but then when we went to his room he turned into literally the biggest asshole I met”

“What?” Harry exclaimed, “Tha’s not wha’ I expected”

“Exactly!” you laughed, “Neither did I!”

“Then wha’ happened?”

“I went down on him and he didn’t do the same because apparently he finds that gross? That’s what he told me but I didn’t wanna get into it because I went there to get dick so I was like let’s just fuck, and we did… We made out a bit, got him worked up again, and when we fucked I literally thought something was wrong with me, because he just.. I don’t know. Bumped into me and after he finished I was there like… What just happened?”

“Yeh were right when yeh said I didn’t wanna hear this”

“Told you” you giggled, grabbing your pudding and toying with your teaspoon.

“Jus’ stop using Tinder, please” Harry eventually shook his head.

“A girl has needs, ok?”

He was enraged and completely ignored your words, “And wha’ does he want from yeh now? He really thinks yeh’d see him again? Really?”

“I don’t even know what he’s been saying, honestly” you shrugged.

“Can I see?” 

“Can you like, read from the notification box? I don’t wanna leave him on seen”

Harry nodded in agreement and you gave him your phone. He pressed the lock button, the screen lit up, and it was instantly flooded with texts from him. Since you put the conversation on mute a week ago, you had no idea what he had been saying. It seemed that he didn’t appreciate your lack of interest and that he didn’t bother to hold back.

‘You pathetic whore, u really think ur gonna find someone better than me? U think ur so high and mighty and hot but  ur gonna die alone you bitch. Do u feel better about yourself if u juts ignore my texts???? Well good for fucking u-’ and Harry locked the phone, the screen going black.

“The fuck did I just read?” he questioned, his annoyance from earlier, now morphing into pure anger.

“You said you wanted to read” you shook your head.

“Why does he think he can talk to yeh like that?”

“I don’t honestly care” you sighed, “It’s not like I’ll ever see him again, so he can go and say anything he wants”

“‘S not how that works, darlin’” he said.

"Can we drop this, please" you sighed, unable to quite look in his direction, "I don't like this"

"Well-" Harry erupted and judging by the way his voice instantly died down, you could tell he almost lost control, "I don't fucking like it either, ok? But yeh shouldn't jus' accept tha'!"

"I wouldn't call it acceptance, H" you shook your head, discarding your bowl of pudding and jumping straight to the bottle of wine. "I told him I'm not interested, and I stopped replying. It's not acceptance... he just keeps trying"

"But for some reason yeh're letting him talk t' yeh like tha'"

"Well-" you shrugged, and took a big gulp of red wine, "He talks by himself"

"Y/n…" Harry called, his voice soft and you could tell that there was anger hidden somewhere deep inside, but you still appreciated the fact that he managed to keep it contained. He extended his arm, his fingers brushing against the side of your thigh. It was a soft, delicate touch, that made every hair on your body stand up. He did it to get your attention and boy, did it work. Instantly, your eyes snapped to his, and were met with something you did not see coming. "Can I say something?" he asked cautiously, his eyes shining with genuine worry.

"You're making this into something much more significant than it actually is"

"I'll drop it" he eventually nodded, "If you promise me something"

"What?"

"If anythin' similar to this happens again, tell me"

"And what are you gonna do about it?" you giggled, trying to lighten the mood. As you kept staring into his green eyes, you brought the wine bottle up to your lips, took a long sip, and then handed it to him.

He took the bottle out of your hands, seemingly not giving more than two shits about it. The warmth in his eyes accentuated as his eyebrows gathered into a concerned furrow, "Make sure it doesn't get to yeh"

"It doesn't" you smiled.

"Lemme make sure" 

"Ok, Harry" you laughed, "I promise you that the next time a guy from Tinder gets mad about me not reciprocating the feeling, and he starts sending me that kind of texts, I will tell you"

The sarcasm just flowed out of you, and he was not impressed.

"I meant in general, love"

"Any guy?" you taunted, "Not just from tinder?"

"Fucking put on tha’ movie" he shook his head, "I know yeh too well. Won't get anywhere until you get some wine in tha’ belly"

"That's your plan?" you laughed, "Get me drunk and make me spill all my secrets?"

"I never assumed you had any secrets, but yeah, now I wanna know those too" Harry grinned, throwing his arm around you and pulling you to his chest. Although this kind of intimacy was something you've been somewhat used to, tonight it was just a bit more difficult to bear. And it may all have been due to the way he mentioned he wouldn’t want anything to get to your head, and the way he said he’d make sure of it. Even though you weren’t truly clear how he’d do that and what exactly was going through his head, it was crystal clear how you’d have him do that.

But now was not the time. You glued your eyes to the TV screen, and begged your brain to focus on the movie in front of you and not whatever Harry was thinking about, mere inches away from you.

There had been something in the air that night, because neither of you managed to pay any kind of attention to the movie anymore. You talked, the conversation not going back to the previous topic, you laughed, gossiped like there was no tomorrow, and now it was almost 4am, and you and Harry were 3 bottles of wine in. Deciding to cut the alcohol before it was too late, you settled for water, as Harry went on to finish a weird story he once heard from a hippie touring the states in his van. He was completely smitten, his eyes shone with admiration for the old man. Harry spoke with words of great respect about a life he wished he could once live. It was only a matter of time until it would get to you.

“But,” you sighed, laying down and placing your head into his lap, “You really seem like the kind of guy to pack his bags and just leave. Like get a couple of friends or something, leave a note saying you’ll eventually be back, and just travel around the world”

“I kinda already do tha’ love” Harry laughed, double chin showing as he looked down at you.

“Not what I meant” you shook your head, “And you know it”

“Wha’ did yeh mean, then?”

He looked down at you, his hands finding their way into your hair as you contemplated how to put the words together. “I don’t know… Less social interaction-” you finally said, “Make it less about living the same songs in front of thousands of people, and more about living a completely new experience as you really get to know just a handful of people”

He didn’t look convinced. His dimples were showing, and a chuckle was threatening to escape his lips.

“That didn’t make any sense, did it?” you laughed.

“It did” Harry smiled, “Might have’ta resume this in tha’ morning, but i think i got the idea”

You pointed your finger to him, “Best”

“Me?” he grinned, grabbing your hand, “Oh, stop it!”

“Not you, your idea”

“Nice save, love”

You wanted to object and keep this topic going as the butterflies in your stomach started to riot, but just as you opened your mouth to speak, the sound of your phone receiving another text filled the air. In an instant, your eyes locked with Harry’s and you knew he wasn’t gonna let any of that shit slide. Not wanting to give him the chance to protest, you sprung up and leaned towards the coffee table, your fingers barely managing to brush against the side of your phone before Harry grabbed your waist and yanked you back, pressing you against the cushions of the sofa as he hovered above you.

The intimacy and urgency of this whole charade made your skin crawl, and you couldn’t help but let a few giggles escape, “What are you doing?” you laughed.

“Not lettin’ tha’ asshole ruin your night, love” Harry smirked, tilting your head so that you had to face him. 

“I’ll see the text in the morning and it will ruin my whole day” you played along, but as it turned out, you dug your own grave.

“Oh?” he grinned, “So it does get to you”

“No!” you belted, “That is not what I meant, Jesus harry”

“Come on, hon” 

His head tilted to the side, before he leaned down and nudged the tip of your nose with his. “Jus’ say the word”

That sent burning chills down your spine, and your cheeks couldn’t do anything but to comply and turn an erotic shade of pink.

“I’m not sure what to say” you mumbled, fighting against the urge to jump on him.

“I’m yer best friend, love-” he made a small pause, for dramatic effect, and just stared down at you while your blood boiled, “Lemme show yeh how good yeh can feel”

“I-”

He cut you off, obviously proud of himself, “I obviously wouldn’t have asked twice if I hadn’t felt you squeeze your thighs around me”

“Fuck, Harry-” you said, embarrassment rushing all over you as you threw your hands in the air.

He leaned down, and brushed his lips along your jaw, “Yeh could be screaming tha’ name”

Regaining your composure, you grabbed his chin and forced him to make eye contact once again, “What does this mean to you?”

“It doesn’t have t’ mean anything we don’t want it to” he nodded, “Just friends looking out of one another”

“Mhm..” you choked, “Yep”

“Tell me, and I’ll get off of you”

Your answer came a short second later. “Yeah, get off” you said sternly.

His features barely got a chance to show the disappointment that enveloped him, because as soon as the words left your mouth, you pushed yourself up. Excitement started showing on his face as you pushed yourself up. With a devilish smile on your lips, you grabbed the hem of his shirt; not giving him a chance to secure his balance on his knees before you pulled the material up his body. He clumsily shuffled out of it, his tattoos coming into full view.

“Is that a new one” you asked, pointing to his left shoulder.

To your surprise he took you seriously, and looked down, obviously confused, “Which one, love?”

“This one” you grinned, pushing yourself up and against his chest, this way, giving yourself a chance to press your lips to the base of his neck.

Harry’s whole body shivered under you as he let out a small chuckle. Instantly, his hands found your waist. Once your lips grazed his sensitive skin, the muscles of his neck relaxed as if under a spell and his head fell back. Harry’s fingers dug into your sides as your teeth sunk his flesh, sucking profusely. Having waited for this so many years, it felt all too real and completely unreal at the same time. There was a fire burning inside of you and the soft moans slipping past his lips were no help with taming it.

“Having fun?” Harry laughed, but his confidence and usual air of self control were shaking.

As a response, you bit into his ear lobe and delighted yourself with the whimpers of pleasure he didn’t even try to hide.

Although burning for it, you didn’t have it in you to go for his lips, so when he was the one to do it, all your radars went crazy. The way he grabbed your chin and pulled you closer, it was all you wished for. Years worth of pent up emotions dripped from your lips and onto his.

How ungrateful and inappropriate would it have been for you to beg for more and guide the situation in a different direction? Even if his gentleness made your knees weak, the heat between your legs begged for a less kissing and a lot more biting. 

It was when he pressed you down against him that made you forget about everything that held you back. His erection was rubbing against your thigh as you grinded down on him, and you couldn’t help but break the kiss and sink your teeth into his lower lip.

Harry threw his head back against your touch, and a proud smile lifted up the corners of your mouth.

“Come on” you moaned, kissing your way down to his ear, “Show me how you should treat a girl”

His fingers snuck into your hair and pulled your head back, forcing your eyes to meet his’, “Is it me? Or are yeh a bit more excited for this than you initially let on?”

Your eyes sparkled as you let out the fib, “It’s just you”

Grinning, he shook his head in mock approval, and secured you in his hold, before effortlessly spinning the two of you around. Now, a mess of limbs, you looked up at Harry with what could only be described as pure lust. And it all reflected on his features. His ridiculously messy curls framed his face perfectly, allowing his proud gaze to fuel your engines.

With all your might you wanted to let him take the lead and not show too much enthusiasm, but it felt next to impossible. Before you knew it, your hands were cupping his cheeks again, forcing his body flush against your own. He kissed you back with no hesitation, as if he too waited years for this to finally happen, as if this was his dumb way of confessing to you that he too, was head over heels for you. But that was a scenario that regardless of its likelihood, was sure to ruin your mood. 

So you pushed it aside, forced your mind to fall on standby, and instead, you concentrated on the way his hands explored every single inch of your body. When he broke the kiss, you wanted to protest, your tongue crying from the sudden loss of contact. But his lips traveled lower, kissing all the way over down your neck, along your collarbones, and across your chest. It was all aggravated and hungry, as if he couldn’t get enough. 

“Yeh good?” Harry asked, looking up at you, cheeks all flushed.

“Yep, yeah” you whispered, the weight of the moment turning your voice into a light chuckle. Breathless and innocent, you were on cloud nine, and all your struggles to keep that hidden were in vain.

Delicately, as only he could, Harry pushed your shirt over your head, leaving you exposed, a fact which sent a whole new wave of pleasure down your body. This gesture alone shook your whole world, but he wasn't wasting any time. You barely even got a chance to catch your breath before he lowered himself, and cupped your breasts into his palms. Your back arched in an instant, and when his warm lips connected to your skin, goosebumps propagated all over your whole body. As circled his lips and caught your nipple between his teeth, your mind went crazy, muscles sizzling with anticipation. A suggestive moan slipped from your throat, and you could tell it surely tickled his ego.

“Gettin’ there?” he questioned even if he already knew the answer.

You threw him half a shrug, tilting your head to the side and pressing your cheek to your shoulder.

“So fuckin’ cute, angel” Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he crawled up your body, “Why’re yeh so cute?”

“How would I know?” you blushed, playing along with his overly teasing approach, “You’re the one who sad it”

“Don’t know why I think yeh’re cute?”

You nodded no.

A small but sure fire lit up his features, and he knew it was on. He did maintain the eye contact for a while, but when he finally looked down at your body, nonchalantly staring at your chest, that was when your breath got caught in your throat. The pressure was building up, yet Harry kept pushing your buttons. 

In desperate need to pick up the pace, you nudged his chin with the back of your fingers, and when his eyes caught yours; you raised one eyebrow, motioning for him to continue. “Wha’ do yeh want me t’ tell yeh, love?” Harry grinned, leaning down to kiss your neck.

“Tell me what you like about me” you laughed, linking your fingers in his hair. While you laughed due to the amount of different emotions that coursed through you, Harry made it all the more difficult for you to keep it together. His kisses were light enough for you to feel the ounces of love that dripped from his lips, but carnal enough to keep you on your toes.

“I love everything about yeh” he murmured against your skin, his chain of passionate kisses crossing over to the other side of your neck, “I mean, wha’s there not t’ like?”

“Word” you giggled, your sarcasm coming in perfect contrast to the weakness his question brought to your knees.

“Fuckin’ love every inch” Harry said, having completely ignored your joke, “Every single part of yeh, yer body and god, yer mind”

His hands cupped the sides of your rib cage, as his lips traveled down your sternum. He seemed lost, completely absorbed. Every time he looked up at you, it was impossible not to notice how out of this world his eyes seemed. Glossy and dark, extravagant green looking to explore more of you. And those were only the times you managed to catch him staring. The pleasure this man provided surpassed the moaning level, he got you working hard not to scream in ecstasy, as his tongue ran laps around your nipples, and the way his lips sucked with that specific amount of pressure. It looked as if he already knew where all your buttons were, he acted as if he knew your body better than you did. And for you, that was a new experience, which would’ve already been too much, even without Harry involved. But seeing your fingers get lost in his absolutely perfect in a messy kind of way locks, as he treated your skin with such refined skill, you found yourself way too close to the edge.

In the high of the moment, probably following an unidentifiable stimulus, you found yourself concentrated on the way his palms felt against your skin. He held you in his arms as if you were the most precious thing he ever laid eyes on. And for some reason, that feeling alone had you skyrocketing.

It was when you moaned out loud, for the first time not holding back, that he finally decided to give you what he promised. 

“Yeh sure this is ok, angel, yeah?” he murmured, looking up at you. 

His light stubble tickled the lower side of your abdomen as his breath barely managed to reach your skin. 

“Yeah” you clumsily nodded, your words coated in fervid enthusiasm.

Something happened. Something clicked inside of him. You saw it in the way his eyes warmed up. For a second he didn’t move, instead he just took in everything that was happening. When he eventually pushed himself up, you expected him to help you or motion for you to undress, but he didn’t. Harry lowered himself on top of you, pressing his chest against your own.

His fingers locked themselves against your chin, “I really wanna fucking do this right for yeh”

His confession took you aback. The seriousness in this tone was not something you anticipated. At first, he was the one who made it all seem like a meaningless game, yet right now, it seemed as though he fell into his own trap. 

All you could do was nod. Nod in approval, nod as a sign for him to keep going. As a promise that it was all ok. This attitude of his was not something you signed up for. Even if it looked like the beginning of what you always wanted, it also felt a little bit too sudden.

“Come here” you cooed, cupping his cheeks in a loving manner.

In an instant, he leaned into your touch, his skin burning against your damp palms. For the x-th time that evening, his lips melted onto yours, but something felt different. But you kept going, allowed the moment to carry you further without giving yourself the burden of dictating a direction. 

And seconds passed, and with each one, his touch became more and more aggravated. You could feel his need, and you have loved to think that what you were feeling from him was love, but it was just too big of a step to take right now. Not too shortly after, the situation escalated towards the point you left off earlier. You let him take the lead, and he soon returned to his usual self.

Harry made his way down your body through a chain of lingering kisses, each one of them awakening yet another side of you. This time, you were given no time to prepare. His experienced hands grabbed your thighs, groping their way up to your hips. Although it was fairly fast, it felt like an eternity. You breathing picked up when his fingers hooked themselves into the waistband of your leggings, and without even thinking about it, you pushed yourself up, allowing him to take them off. 

Now, you hadn’t seen this coming, because if you had, you probably would have chosen to wear something less embarrassing than your Superman underwear. Your cheek heated up as if it was the first time a man had seen you naked, and all your insecurities washed over you. None of those thoughts crossed Harry’s mind though. 

He just smiled - a gesture whose roots you’d never know. 

Harry positioned himself between your legs, his fingers gingerly tracing up and down your outer thighs. “Really fucken gorgeous, yeh know tha’?”

His compliments have never been this hard to receive, “Shut up” you chuckled, rolling your eyes as you couldn't help but squirm under his stare.

“Wha’?” Harry grinned, leaning his head to the side as he let his teasing side take over, 

“Tha’ tinder fuckface never told yeh just how perfect yeh look?”

“This is still about him, huh?”

“It’s about yeh, love” Harry rolled his eyes, letting his nails graze your skin, “Always been about yeh, always will be”

With each word that let his mouth, he leaned down, lower and lower, until every inch of his body was pressing against your own. He dominated the moment, and you love it.

When he engulfed your lips into a kiss, his right hand traveled between your legs. That alone made your core vibrate, and knowing there was no way to hide your enthusiasm, made you smile.

You felt the back of his fingers trace up and down your opening, and his words confirmed your suspicions. He pulled away from your lips just enough so he could speak, but he was still too close for you to properly see his features - he was just a few literal inches away, “I can’t wait to taste yeh, doll”

The grin on his lips and the pride of his tone, had a visible effect on you. The hairs on your body stood up in anticipation, and you couldn’t help but arch your back and close your legs around him. You kissed him back, and this time, it was on.

As his tongue pushed past your lips, Harry’s hands lewdly traveled down your sides, caressing every inch of exposed skin they found in their way. You didn’t see the eagerness coming, but when he reached between your legs, the flimsy material of your underwear didn’t even begin to come in his way. He shoved his hand under your panties, his fingers instantly coming in contact with your opening.

It was solely the emotional value of the moment that made you nearly gasp. Harry took his sweet damn time, as if you needed any more foreplay. The pads of his fingers gingerly traced up and down your opening a few times, before coming back up again to rest against your clit. It was soft and easy at the beginning, but the feather light touch of his fingers started gaining more and more pressure as subtle circular movements started to form.

When you looked up at him, you were met with the mess of curls that had fallen onto his forehead as he had his head hanging low, with his eyes trained between your bodies. With a gentle nudge against his chin, you prompted him to look up. At first he seemed a bit disoriented, but a wicked grin shortly appeared on his lips. It made you smile.

He was the one to resume the kiss, making it gentle this time - in perfect contrast with the action of his fingers, as he slowly made his way past your folds. When the first finger went in, you curled the corners of your mouth in anticipation. It felt fine, but it was just the tip of the iceberg and you knew it. Eager for more, you allowed your teeth to lewdly sink into his lower lip, willing to show him you wanted more. 

With a grunt, Harry shuffled a bit, his knees bucking into your hips. The deep breath he released tickled your skin, but you weren’t going to let this go. As you forced your teeth just a bit deeper into his plush skin, Harry let his forehead fall against yours. 

His tongue neatly traced along your upper lip, and you thought it was in response to your actions. And this erroneous thought kept you from anticipating his next move. When Harry pushed one more finger in, your senses went mad, and the simple fact that he didn't give you too much time to adjust before he pushed a third finger in, rocked you completely. 

You moaned in return and arched your back.

"I got yeh, baby girl" he whispered softly, "Look at me, I got yeh, ok?"

After receiving an enthusiastic nod from you, Harry made his way down your body. This time, he swiftly shuffled to the side, pulling your legs together and riding you of the unnecessary piece of underwear you still had on.

Not waiting for him to take control, you spread your legs, and feasted on the carnal look he had in his eyes as he looked down at your body. He didn’t waste any time before finding the perfect spot between your legs. Your whole body shivered as he leaned his head to the side, his light stubble tickling its way down the inside of your thighs. 

And following the rough feeling of the still shy beard you didn’t think he was able to grow, when his soft lips brushed against your skin, you involuntarily clenched. You bucked your hips and your legs tried, but to no avail, to close the distance between one another. You wanted more - needed more. And he noticed it.

Looking down along your body, you could only see the top of his head. And his fingers, pressing into the skin of your legs. And the tip of his nose as he proceeded to tease you into oblivion with millions of kisses, each of them nothing less than heavenly, but still, nothing compared to what you knew was coming next. The only warning he gave you as a hurried grin, and it was nowhere near enough.

It was on. Elegantly, but with traces of dominance in his touch, and with two fingers, Harry spread your pussy wide open, his tongue lewdly slipping right inside you. The contact and the buildup made you gasp. Had you not been so over the moon and distracted already, you’d have heard him snicker in response to the sound you just made. But you were too caught up. You felt him on every inch of your body, and the signals your core were sending you, were not what you wanted.

You wanted this to last. To have him go at it, lapping at your core for hours. To feel his tongue wag until your senses went numb.It might have been the dry spell that was forced upon you as the pandemic overtook your life, or the timeless, painful crush you’ve had on him for years, but you were already on the edge.

Trying hard to make the moment last, you curled your pointer finger and shoved it into your mouth, biting down hard. Your back arched dangerously as your head flew back, but it all just worked in his favour. Your pleasure was building up, and the careful, experienced movement of Harry’s tongue against your clit was only gaining momentum.

“Yeh taste like fucking heaven but I think yeh already knew tha’” he said, for a second pulling away from your core and giving you a chance to catch your breath.

All you managed was a pathetic excuse of a nod, along with a shy roll of your eyes.

“None of tha’” Harry laughed, licking his lips, “Don’t care how close yeh are, ‘m not gonna stop until yeh moan my name, love”

“Jesus christ, Harry!” you panted, shaking your head.

He responded in a similar manner, and again, with no warning whatsoever, he went back in. This short break allowed you to regain your composure, even if it was just a tiny bit. Your excitement, although still there and just as consuming, was easier to control now. You felt his touch all throughout your body, his tongue tickling all your senses.

What brought you closer into the moment was the feeling of his hands, as he grabbed your thighs and pushed your legs up onto his shoulders. For whatever reason, this felt even more intimate, and as his fingers sank into your flesh, you felt your engines start up again.

The delicate flicks of his tongue were getting more and more aggravated by the second, and now it was close to impossible to keep calm. Sweaty palms gripping tirelessly into the cushions under you, your back under constant strain, your eyes squeezed shut - he had you entirely.

And as if that wasn’t enough, he went further. Harry pushed one finger inside of you, moving his lips up to fully concentrate on your clit. His tongue prepared you, got you all ready and wanting, and then, he wrapped his lips around your bundle of nerves and sucked - gently and with a minimal amount of pressure, but god-

“Fuck, Harry-” you called out. It was more of a cry, choked back in the depths of your throat, all breathy and muffled.

“Come on, angel” Harry whispered.

As you looked down, past your heaving chest, your eyes landed conveniently on the top of his head. Complete chaos - his unruly curls tickled the inside of your thighs, as his fingers dug into your flesh. The two rings he never takes off were sure to leave proud indents on your skin.

Harry sucked at your bundle of nerves, the eager touch of his tongue awakening absolutely every need inside your being. Add the experienced pumps of his fingers and the fact that this was Harry Styles and none other, and you were done.

With each passing second you started to lose more and more of the control you had on your body. Sweating nervously out of every pore of your body, you squirmed under his weight hoping you’d make the moment last.

“‘S good, love, isn’t it?” Harry smirked for just about a second, “I can see yeh, yeh’re a mess fo’ me”

“Fuck” you whined, covering your face with your right palm as your head tilted backwards, “Shut up”

“Oh!” Harry faked surprise, “Gettin’ cocky?”

As he spoke, Harry curled his fingers inside your pussy; maybe intentionally - maybe by chance, hitting all the right spots and making you moan out loud.

“I’ll take tha’ as an apology”

You scoffed.

Harry shook his head. When you looked down at him again, you caught him licking his lips. It was obvious he waited for you to catch him doing that.

Already at the edge of your self control, you curled your fingers into his hair, motioning for him to resume his work. He followed your lead without any complaints, and when his bottom teeth grazed your clit, even if it was light as a feather you lost it.

Your mind became numb, drunk on the pleasure he provided. Your eyes rolled back as you enjoyed every second of your high. Harry kept you spiraling, continuing to lap at your core as the muscles of your legs tensed uncontrollably around his frame.

“Holy fuck-” you breathed out, voice shaky and wounded.

He made sure to milk every ounce of pleasure out of your being, leaving you a heaving mess under his stare.

Harry pushed himself up, nonchalantly wiping his chin, his eyes not allowing yours to look away.

As you gathered yourself and worked on bringing your breathing back to normal, there was only one thought going on inside your head - that it would only be fair if you reciprocate the gesture. Thinking about it was enough to make your core buzz again, but you didn’t have it in you to bring it up, and instead hoped he’d show he wished things didn’t stop either.

But he didn’t.

However, you got to kiss him again. And no matter how badly you wanted to keep the atmosphere on fire, he had other plans. 

“Did I take good care of yeh?” Harry asked as he leaned down beside you. His hand found your cheek, keeping you in place for another longing kiss, “Did I do yeh right?”

You nodded against his lips, not willing to actually word the answer.

His chuckle made it clear that the point got through. And for a second it seemed as if the night wasn’t done. None of you was willing to pull away, and allowed the minutes to go by without a care in the world, lost in each other’s arms.

“Freakin’ love yeh, angel” Harry said.

It wasn’t the first time you’d hear this coming out of his mouth, but you couldn’t help but smile thinking this time it was meant in a different manner. You answered him by cuddling deeper into his chest, and that was a moment you wouldn’t have traded for the world.

And you fell asleep like that. No matter how big and luxurious your couch was, you still spent the night glued to one another. Harry felt every calm breath of yours on his skin and everytime he moved a bit to adjust his position, his hold tightened around you to make sure he wasn’t pushing you away.

After what was probably the best sleep you’d gotten in the whole year of 2020, morning came around. Actually it was lunch time, if we’re being generous. The sun was high up, proudly making its way into your living room, past the curtains to forgot to draw the other night.

When you awoke, Harry wasn’t there anymore. However, panic didn’t have the time to settle in as you heard movement coming from the kitchen, and the strong smell of coffee reached your nose in no time.

You got up from the couch, with herds of butterflies in your stomach. Harry’s words from last night still echoed in your head, and even now, with no alcohol in your system, they managed to bring goosebumps all over your skin.

“When did you get up?”

That was how you made your presence known.

Harry turned around with a smile on his face. He had a bag of avocados tucked under his arm, as he typed away on his phone. His undone pants were hanging onto his thighs for dear life, and the only other piece of fabric on his body was a thin, brown hair tie around his wrist. There were a few purple marks along his collar bones and his hair looked rougher than usual, things which deep down, shook you up a bit.

 “Wanted to take yeh out fo’ breakfast, but I gotta leave in like an hour, so I figured this should do”

“Yeah, yeah sure” you agreed, “It’s perfect”

“Would’ve done mo’, but Y/n, yeh have no food in this house”

You laughed, walking over to slump down into one of the chairs, “Didn’t get a chance to get any perishables”

“You got some” Harry chuckled, “You got weeks’ worth of everything you need to make guacamole and pancakes”

“I have no idea how that happened, those will spoil” you shook your head, “You can take some of them actually”

“Or I could just come over”

“Even better”

The food was ready in no time. Harry had everything done and set while you washed up a bit, and after that, you both sat down to eat. Minimal and light, but still, there was a weight in the pit of your stomach.

“About last night-” Harry began to say, but you tried to stop him.

“You don’t have to-”

“We kinda do, love” he smiled, “I need to apologise, angel”

You squinted your eyes, “For?”

“I don’t really have t’ apologise fo’ what I said because I meant every word” Harry slowly said, as if he has a hard time putting his thoughts together, “I jus’ wish I hadn’t said it like tha’ though”

“Like what?” you questioned, a bit lost.

“Like I had the right to say that kind of crap” he laughed. It was nervous laughter, like he was afraid of what was coming next, “I do fucking love yeh, but I shouldn’t have assumed you wanted to hear that”

“What are you talking about, I don’t understand” you groaned, growing a bit tired of the impatience he brought upon you.

“You’re my best friend, ok?” he sighed, “That’s all we are, Y/n, and that was not supposed to happen”

The food got lodged in your throat, and you felt like if you didn’t stand up, you’d no longer be able to breathe. “It was your idea” you scoffed.

Harry’s eyes followed your frame, but he remained seated, “I know”

“So what changed? If anything even changed. I don’t understand what the problem is. You regret we did what we did-”

“I don’t regret anything” Harry butted it.

“You said it was not supposed to happen!” you exclaimed, rolling your eyes as you walked over to the sink, just to make yourself useful and to stop just standing in front of him.

“The things I said to you-” he said sternly, pushing his chair back and throwing his hands into the air, “I shouldn’t have said those, ok? It doesn’t matter who meant what, I told you things that-”

“What did you tell me that’s bothering you so much?” you almost yelled, annoyance dripping out of your pores. You walked over to him, and he closed the distance by standing up.

“I-” Harry stuttered, playing with his hair to buy himself some more time. “All the-”

“What?” you pushed, “That you like everything about me? That’s what you regret saying? And what else?”

“God” he groaned, “I don’t regret saying tha’, it’s just tha’ it wasn’t my place to say it”

You fell silent.

“If I were you... I’d want to hear those things from someone that is more than just a friend to me” he confessed.

“And you can’t be that to me? More than a friend?”

After a few seconds of painful silence, realization hit him, “Y/n…”

He did reach out. He took a step towards you but you stepped back. The remorse in his tone was too painful to ignore. So you moved away from him and slowly made your way out of the kitchen.

“Y/n!” Harry called, following you.

“Just go”

“Please...”

“Please what?” you shook your head, but he didn’t have the words you needed to hear.

“I’m sorry”

“It’s fucking fine” you sighed, walking backwards towards your room, “Just show yourself out”

[crescentsteel]

Just Friends - Part 7

plot: fubu set up with Kuroo , model fem reader warnings: sexual tension, slow burn word count: 7.2k 

A.N:

- Finally!! I'm so glad to finally release this. October was so hectic and I'm a very slow writer. - I'm so sorry for the mistakes on the previous chapters. No one beta reads for me. So I went back and edited Chapters 3-6. - So sorry for the word vomit on this chapter. I was out of control. - Thank you for all the nice comments!! I swear. They keep me fired up and inspired.  - As always, lmk if you want to be tagged in any of my works,

Part 6 | Part 8 |  m.list

“No! It’s not what you think!”

Kuroo almost laughs at how cliche you sounded, a typical response of someone who’s been caught red-handed. You’re about to chase Kenma, but he grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Maybe you should wear your shirt before you go after ‘im.” He tries to hide the mirth in his expression and tone. Your face is so red, you look like you’re about to burst. He also doesn’t want to add up more to the awkwardness you might feel later, so he’s gonna let this one slide. He’ll just pretend that the massage thing was as harmless as it should be. 

You put your shirt in a jumble and walk briskly to Kenma. He follows at his normal pace, settling behind you when he catches up to you and Kenma.

“Sorry about that,” you laugh nervously. “He was just giving me a back massage.”

It was kinda the truth, but Kenma looks dubious. 

“It sounded more than a massage.”

He covers his lips with his back hand so he wouldn’t laugh. Although his rascal self wants to tease you more, he can’t let you feel any more embarrassed than this. He looks at Kenma and shakes his head minutely with a knowing look, hinting not to push the subject any further. 

“Naah. Y/n here is just really stressed so she moans like she’s being fucked.” Okay, maybe he couldn’t completely let it slide after all. 

You irritatedly look at him and punch his arm with more force than usual. “Piss off,” you hiss. 

He dramatically rubs the arm you just hit. “Ow! So violent.”

Kenma ignores the antics and just passes by you two. He’s about to plop himself on the couch, but pauses. He instead gets a chair and seats himself there.

You couldn’t overlook that. Obviously, in Kenma’s mind, you and Kuroo were doing something indecent there so he doesn’t want to be in it. You want to clear it up to Kenma that you really weren’t doing anything of that sort. Well, you were about to pounce on Kuroo, but still, it didn’t actually happen. 

In a way, you’re relieved that Kenma interrupted at the right time. You might have done something you will harrowingly regret afterwards.

“Don’t sweat it, y.n. He just misinterpreted it.” Kuroo’s unusually magnanimous today. It’s strange. He wouldn’t have lived this down on a regular day. Maybe it's because of your no sex relationship? Still, this is aberrant of him. He shouldn’t fail to notice how that last  moan of yours was not of comfort. 

“Right?” He adds, his eyes gauging your own.

So that’s how it is. He is aware. But he’s giving you the option to disregard what just almost happened. You’re relieved, but also confused at the tiny shards of disappointment prickling in your chest. This is what you wanted, for you to avoid sex and Kuroo in the same room. It shouldn’t be confusing.

You look down and break away from the eye contact. You put a hand on your hip and the other on your temple, which then moves to brush your hair back.

With a long, audible puff, you speak.

“Of course, it was nothing,” you return to his gaze with a dry expression to camouflage the lie behind your words. But at the same time, you also wait for him to say something or for his eyes to show something other than indifference. You don’t know what it is you want or expect, but you wait for it. You’ll know it when you see it. 

It doesn’t come though as he shrugs it off like it was nothing. 

Disappointed, that’s what you are. You don’t like the feeling, but you are.

—

You ring your driver again, hoping that this time he’ll finally answer. If he doesn’t get to you any soon, you’ll be late for your shoot. You can’t be late for this shoot in particular. Mitsuki’s the creative director. She’s a very pleasant one, but she absolutely hates tardiness. No exceptions. She gets all sour and crank when someone’s late. 

The other end of the line picks up. “Ms l/n. I’m so sorry. One of the tires got flat. I need to change it, but I’m still stuck in traffic.”

Of all the days to get a flat tire on a heavy traffic, it had to be this day. You exhale heavily to clear the irritation getting under your skin. 

“How long before you’re here?”

“I think about an hour, Ms.”

You aren’t the type to get mad at hired help, but you’re really in a pinch. In an hour, you should be in hair and make up already, not arriving only then. Mitsuki gets enraged when someone’s 15 minutes late. To be late an hour, you can’t imagine how she’d be. There’s no way you’re going to wait here for an hour.

“Don’t come anymore. Just get it fixed.” You say coldly before you end the call. It wasn’t the driver’s fault. You wouldn’t bother getting a driver if your car hadn’t been acting up recently. Being dumb this morning, you forgot about your busted car and was late in this morning’s meeting with a client. You found yourself brisk walking in heels at the hotel’s lobby earlier just to save yourself from any more delayed minutes. And now, even your driver’s car is jacked up. 

“Y.n?”

You turn around at the recognizable calm voice you heard. It’s Kenma, except he wasn’t alone. Kuroo is right there beside him. It was kind of weird to see them together at this place and both in business wear. 

“What’re you two doing here?” 

“I’m working with Kenma here to sponsor our next promotional video.”

You just stared at the two of them. You’re used to the three of you just fooling around when you’re together. Meeting like this when you’re all in the middle of doing your jobs is something new to you. 

“And who might you be giving a hard time on the phone, hmm y.n.?”

They heard that? They must both be near while you were getting bummed out from being late this morning and potentially late this afternoon. 

“Ah! I need to go. My driver can’t make it. I’m going to be late,” you spiral back to your hectic schedule. “Bye.” You give them a quick wave, and despite your heels, you walk as fast as you could towards the entrance of the hotel. 

You try to hail cabs that were passing by, but almost every cab was occupied. And for some reason, someone always managed to get the empty cabs before you can even spot them. To worsen your luck, it began to rain. You frantically tap your left foot on the concrete as the panic sets in you.

Mitsuki’s gonna kill me.

You bite your lip and contemplate how you’re going to arrive in the venue on time. The answer you found made you turn back on your heels to go back inside the hotel, only to find them already there behind you. 

“You’re here,” you exhale, relieved that they haven’t gone anywhere out of your sight. “I’m in a bind. Can anyone give me a ride?” 

The two men exchanged pithy looks, but you don’t bother figuring out what that could’ve meant. You just need the help you typically won’t ask for since you’re always doing things on your own.

“I can’t. I have a stream coming up. Sorry, y.n.” Kenma first spoke. You shift to Kuroo, hoping that he can give you the time of day. “Yea, sure. Am free for the rest of the day actually.” He says with a brief smile. 

“Oh, thank God!” The panic and nerves were clearing out of your system. Despite the awkwardness of your previous massage fiasco, right now, you’re glad that he can help. 

“Bye, then.” Kenma quickly took his leave as the hotel valet stepped out from his car and handed him his keys. 

“Should we go now?” Kuroo asked. “Aren’t we waiting for your car?” “No. I don’t want strangers handling my car.” “Then why did you go here?”

Amusement shows on his face at your question. “I saw your cute attempt to hail a cab. Is that how rich kids do it? Let someone else steal their ride for them?” You smile sweetly, disgustingly sweet, then roll your eyes before saying, “Let’s just go.”

You told him the location of the shoot. The drive was comfortable as you both share work conversations with your usual banters on the side. Being friends with Kuroo is confusing and reassuring at the same time. With the history you two shared, you need to tread the waters of your friendship carefully every once in a while. If it wasn’t the sexual tension, it was the affection you felt towards him that would sometimes seem like resurfacing. Even with all that, you can’t bear to walk away from what you presently have. You feel like you really found genuine company with him and Kenma.

“We’re here. Let me just get an umbrella.” He looks back to the back seat and stretches his right arm to reach for it. The current angle of his face emphasized his sharp jaw and the length of his neck. You were just thinking how you need to tread carefully, but easier said than done when you know exactly how your fingers have grazed that jaw, how your tongue has tasted that neck, and much more. 

“What’s taking you so long? I might as well get drenched from the rain,” you snap because you can’t stand your own indecent thoughts. 

“Found it.” He says and returns to his normal sitting position. “Why the hell are you suddenly cranky? Geez.” You feel bad for being suddenly grouchy. He was just being nice and you were being nasty for reasons you can’t tell him. “Sorry. Just don’t want to be late,” you apologized.

He shrugs it off nonchalantly. “Hey. Where’s my umbrella?” You ask when you see him reaching for the door with only one umbrella in his hand. 

“We’re sharing this. I only have one.”

You purse your lips to the side and sharply avert your eyes elsewhere, your irritation resurfacing again. You feel uncomfortable with the idea of being that physically close to him. You’ve pushed the massage incident behind, but that doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten about it. 

“What is up with you? What are you so pissed about?”

“Nothing. Can we go now?”

He stares at you for a good 3 seconds before getting out and opening his umbrella. He moves to your side of the vehicle and opens the door. You get out and try to avoid any raindrops. He closes the door and presses his car keys to lock the vehicle. 

You both start to walk towards the entrance of the place. You’ve never felt more awkward in your life. You’re avoiding getting past the edge of the umbrella while also avoiding Kuroo’s body. 

“Why is your umbrella so small?” 

“The heck are you talkin about? This is the standard size.”

You don’t answer him. The umbrella isn’t small. He’s just huge and his whole body occupied almost all the space under the shade. You flinch when he suddenly grabs you by the shoulder and pulls you close, so close that you can feel the firmness of his body pressed onto yours. 

You raise your gaze to him with a raised eyebrow. 

“You’re gonna get wet if we don’t huddle closer.” You could accept his reason, if only you didn’t catch the miniscule curl of his lips and the skittish glint in his eyes. It was so typical of him really. Maybe you should stop being so worked up all the time. 

“Fine.” Even though he was messing you, you can’t deny that it’s much more comfortable. You’re safe from the rain and his body provided heat from the coldness of the downpour.

He doesn’t do or say anything more as you both get to the doorway of the bar where the shoot will be held. He puts down the umbrella when you reach the shade of the building. Before you’re able to get away from Kuroo’s hold, the door opens. Mitsuki was holding her phone to her ear when she met your eyes. 

“I was calling you and you weren’t — oh.” Her eyes flew to the hand on your shoulder and traveled to its owner. “Well, well, y/n. You leave for a good while, then come back loaded.” You can always count on Mitsku to not hold her tongue. You gently release yourself from Kuroo’s hold to avoid looking defensive. “It’s not like that,” was your thrift reply. 

“Kuroo, this is Mitsuki, my creative director for today, sometimes my friend too. Mitsuki, this is Kuroo.” 

Both of them exchange casual greetings for meeting the first time. 

“How come you mention our relationship, but not yours?” referring to you and Kuroo. You sigh. “He’s also a friend.” You turn to Kuroo and thank him for the ride and his time. 

“Is your driver picking you up?” he asked.

You seal your eyes shut at your own stupidity. Because you were panicking and irritated, you sent your driver home. You open them again and purse your lips in a straight line. “No. I’ll just take a cab.”

“With your cab-hailing skills in this rain? Good luck with that.” he snorts. “Haha. Real funny.” From the corner of your eyes, you see Mitsuki with an entertained grin on her face, obviously enjoying the exchange between you and Kuroo. 

“Call me when you’re done. I’ll come pick you up then.” You want to protest but it will just drag on. You don’t want Mitsuki seeing more of the dynamics of your relationship, so you thriftly say “Okay.”

“Kuroo-san, right?” Both of you shift your attention to Mitsuki. “Actually, we need a male model because the scheduled one today is a total wimp and cancelled last minute.” She shamelessly eyed Kuroo from head to toe. So that’s why she was about to call you. The shoot was cancelled. 

When she looks at you, you mouth the word “no” to let her know that she shouldn’t do what you think she’s about to do. The reaction you got was her smiling widening before speaking to Kuroo. “Do you have an agent? Can we talk over the phone right now to discuss?”

That’s when you step forward. “Uhhh. He’s not a model. He used to be a volleyball player, hence the height and build.” You say defensively. You nudge Kuroo with your elbow so that he’ll back you up, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s just there waiting for Mitsuki’s next words. 

“An athlete, I see.” She nods approvingly. “That’s perfect! I don’t have to talk to anyone. It’s completely up to you then.”

“Errr. I don’t really know anything about modeling. Sorry.”

Your relief was short-lived when she tugs you to her direction and grips both of your shoulders. “Then your friend here can guide you. She’ll be your co-model anyways.” 

He probably figured out by now why you were so apprehensive during the conversation just now. You don’t want him as your co-model. 

His grin just confirmed your thoughts. “I’ll go for it then.” His eyes sparkling with mischief made you surrender. You already admit defeat in your head even though the shoot is just about to start. 

You both get in hair and makeup. Being a woman, you take longer to finish. The clothes the stylists are arranging on you are taking while as well.  They let you wear a very long, elegant gold dress that fits your upper body like your second skin, but the material is flowy from your waist down. When you arrive at the set, he’s already there talking with Mitsuki while waiting for you. Mitsuki notices you first. “Alright! We’re good to go.”

When Kuroo faces you, you almost don’t recognize him. His usual emo bangs were gone. They brushed his hair up cleanly. The suit he was wearing earlier was replaced by gray slacks and white long sleeve polo that has two top buttons open. You have conflicted feelings towards the hair and make up staff that did the work. They did a remarkable job with his overall style. He does look like a model like this. But also, why the hell did they make him look this damn good? The regular Kuroo was bad enough for you.

“This feels weird. I feel like I have too many things on me.” You scowl at his remark. “Too many? Wanna try being a girl?” He’s about to retort but Mitsuki claps twice which calls both of your attention.

“So our client is a liquor brand and the theme is something like wild love at the bar. What I want is you two giving the impression of having a passionate first encounter while you’re out drinking. Give me something and we’ll work it out as we go on, mkay?” 

You knew you’d be working with a male model for this brand, but you didn’t expect that they’d go with something like this. You thought it was just going to be glamour shots to showcase the drink.

But what Mitsuki said, ‘Wild love at the bar’?? That is not something you’d want to be doing with him. It reminded you of the first night you met. 

“I’m all ears on what to do, y/n” His haughty smile doesn’t help the situation one bit. You take a deep breath. This is not the time to muck around. You’re the experienced one, so you’ll be taking the lead. “Swear to me that you’ll take this seriously.” You glare at him, no trails of humor apparent. The change in his demeanor surprised you. You forgot how intimidating he can get when he’s serious. You’re so used to him being an idiot all the time that it catches you off guard. But for today, you’re glad to have it.

You explain to him how the whole shoot will go. For the first shot, you ask a staff member for a chair and tell Kuroo to sit on it. “Get the glass with the liquor and look at the camera while holding it.” He did as you told, except he has this perplexed look on his face with a noticeable discomfort from the way his lips curled in a corner. 

“On second thought, maybe this is a bad idea,” he said after trying the first time. You want to agree with him, but the shoot is already happening. You just want to get over it already since you’re already there. “Nooo. Uh-uh.” Mitsuki’s tone took a sharp turn. She wasn’t happy with what Kuroo said. “Just imagine you’re in a bar, chilling with your favorite drink and you just snagged the hottest girl in the place.” 

“Hottest girl aka me,” you comment on her instruction. That seemed to work because he changed back to his normal self and looked at you with amusement. “Just like the night we met, huh?” He said it low enough for only you to hear, but you still glanced nervously to Mitsuki if she caught any of it.  

“That’s a nice expression, Kuroo! Keep looking at her like that.” You ease up since it looks like she didn’t hear it. You put your elbow on his shoulder and tilt your hips to give your waist an S curve while angling your body towards him at the same time. You lift your chin up a bit and look at the camera with parted lips.

“Yep. Looking good dear.” Mitsuki signals the photographer to start taking the shots. You both slightly alter your angles so the pose will have variations. Sometimes you look at Kuroo, smile flirtatiously at him, or look at the camera in a sultry way. Every time you two would look at each other, you’d ‘cheat’ and look at the bridge of his nose to give the illusion that you’re actually looking at his eye. 

While looking at the shots from a separate screen, she suddenly asks the photographer to stop. You both straighten your bodies while awaiting instructions.  “It looks nice,” she said before looking at your direction. “But it’s boring. There’s nothing wild about it.”  You space out for a bit because for the first time, you don’t know how to proceed. You’re used to fashion shoots and runway. You’ve never had an ad with this theme. “Y.n, dear, can you be a bit aggressive towards him?”

You raise your eyebrow from disbelief. “A-aggressive?”

Mitsuki nods. “Throw yourself at him, dominate him, take control. mkay?” You feel a bit pressured when she’s just looking at you two and waiting for you to start posing for the camera. You don’t have a solid idea in your head, but you just go for it. You try to prop yourself up on the bar counter, but your dress won’t allow you.

Kuroo notices your dilemma and gets up from his seat. “You could’ve asked for help, you know.” He positions himself in front of you and grabs your waist. His hands were strong yet gentle. With your palms still on the surface of the counter, he lifts you up while you put weight on your arms so you can usher yourself properly. You’ve been deliberately avoiding his gaze, but right now, your eyes are glued to his face. 

“Yes. Like that.” You both flick your gaze towards Mitsuki. “Do that.” She instructs the photographer to move the side so the angle of the shot captures you both without him blocking you completely. You realize the position you two have. “I agreed to this to make you uncomfortable, but I’m not gonna lie. I’m the one extremely uncomfortable right now.” Kuroo whispers with a hint of regret on his face. The camera flashes start going off but something clicked between the two of you that you two end up laughing. It’s probably the awkwardness and the nerves that’s been hanging on the air that something so shallow as Kuroo admitting his uneasiness, cracked you both up.

It was just a brief exchange of laughter but you feel relaxed. Even though Mistuki is pretty cool for a creative director, she’s still as serious as any professional. So when you see her smiling as you apologized for the delay, you’re a bit shocked.

“No worries dear. Let’s continue then.”

You feel more confident now. You’re you. The reason you became successful on an international level is because of your professionalism and ability to produce quality results.

From being seated on the counter, you’re a few centimeters taller than Kuroo. That completed the idea in your head. You took the glass drink and placed it on your right hand. “Put your hands on my hips,” you tell him then lightly lift his chin with your index finger, “and look at me like you worship me.” The command earned a raised eyebrow from him but you pay no heed to it.

You extend an arm over his right shoulder, the glass dangling on your fingertips. With your index finger on his chin, you look to the camera with provocative eyes. If anything looks wrong with Kuroo, you’ll just let Mitsuki handle it. After all, she’s the one who asked him to be a part of this. 

“Oh yea! That’s really good.” Compared to before, she looks pleased with the shots now. The pose was captured a few times before she speaks again. “Instead of using your finger, grab his hair to tilt his head back.” You comply immediately and tugs his locks downwards. You might’ve done it a bit rougher than you wanted because you heard a raspy grunt from his throat. You got distracted, so instead of looking at the camera, you look at him. 

You regret it. When you said he should look at you with worship, you didn’t think he’d do it this well. Because his hair is pushed completely all the way back, you see every aspect of his face. Nothing was blocking his eyes that were full of yearning and desire. He’s looking at you like you’re not just the hottest girl in the bar, but the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes one. 

“Pull him closer and look here y.n.” You do as you’re told, thankful that you needed to look somewhere else. “Damn. You two look so good right now.” She gently claps her hands while looking at the monitor.

“I’m already satisfied, but let’s just do one more for another option. Umm, Kuroo. You be the aggressor this time. Y/n, …. you know what to do.” She winks after.

Well, not really you don’t. She just wants you to do the thinking on what to do. You put the glass down and put both your hands on his shoulders. “Help me down?” You ask with an easygoing smile. You don’t want to ruin the momentum of the shoot, so you decide to be nice to him for now. 

 “You got it,” then his hand travels up your waist and guides you down back to the floor. You tell him to lean on the counter. He follows with no complaints. You get his arm and ushers him to wrap it on your waist. When he goes along with your silent instruction, you raise your leg to his side.   

“Tug my skirt up to my thighs.”

He doesn’t react and just squints at you.. “Huh?” Since he did not grasp what you meant, you take it to yourself to do it and slowly gather the material at the ends. Then, you yank it up to your thigh. “Get it?” He whistles as he gets the cloth from your hands. “Hey. Don’t do that. If you’re a real model, you’d be in trouble if I report that behavior.”

“But I’m not a real model, am I?” You glare at his provocation. You won’t be having any of his crap at your workplace. “Kuroo,” you say with a menacing glare and he immediately gets the threat behind it. “My bad, my bad. I’ll behave again, kay? Stop scowling now.” You relax your face and take a deep breath. “Moving on then.” You enclose your left arm on his neck while you plant your right on his chest. You don’t want to direct him any further than this. If this is unsatisfactory, Mitsuki will say something. 

Aaaand she does. “Kuroo-san. Aggressive please. Own her. You don’t want her to get away from you.” Upon hearing Mitsuki’s additional instructions, everything about him intensifies three folds. He pulls you even closer, causing your breath to hitch when his face is dangerously near yours all of a sudden. His sleeves don’t do anything to mask the firmness of his arms. And even with the velvet fabric, you can still the strength of his thighs as they’re pinned on yours. The heat of his hand ignited the skin of your thigh as he clutched the fabric and your flesh forcefully. And his eyes, they no longer worship you. They spoke of something similar, but not quite. 

He wants to devour you whole. 

It was too overwhelming for you, so you look away and close your eyes dramatically to make it seem like you’re being swept away in the moment. After one camera flash, “Okay dear, but I need you to look at him this time.”

The few seconds of breaking away from his fiery stare did you some good. You were able to collect yourself again, but not enough to truly look at him. You just focus your gaze right between his eyes as you did earlier.  

“Nooo. When I said look at him, I meant really look at him. Respond with your own passion. You���re looking a bit of a scared vegetable right now, honey.” You’ve never had feedback like that in forever. Maybe when you tried modeling the first few months, you received something similar to that. But never when you started doing it full time. 

You don’t want to, but you have to. You finally meet his gaze and tap into something inside yourself that you’ve been holding back. You let your desire for him deluge you, let it surge through your veins until you’re aching for him. You push yourself even closer to him, not allowing even air to pass between your bodies. 

“Yes! YES! You want him so much, but you shouldn’t.” 

It was just as she said. You want him so much, so much that it almost hurts. You part your lips slightly as you get lost in the moment.

“Oh my God.” Her words sounded distant. It was there. You can hear it, but what clouded your senses was your heart pounding hard against your chest, his hot breath mingling with yours, and the way his eyes are now devoted to your lips. Not long after, he angles his face so that your lips are almost touching. Just a tiptoe and a kiss will already take place. You clench your fingers on his shirt, holding yourself back from that one tiny push that will allow you to feel his lips on yours again. 

“Holy Shit! HOLY SHIT! That was it. That was the money shot.” Mitsuki’s shrill voice which was followed by her squeal broke the trance you were in. You know what she meant. The shoot is done. Yet, you still feel hot. The heated atmosphere around you two still hasn’t caved in. He let go of your thigh as you put some space away from him. You settle your hands on his shoulders while you rest your forehead on his chest. He doesn’t move either. His hand remains on your waist, but without the force this time. With his other hand, he caringly skims the curve of your shoulder. 

“You okay, kitten?”

His voice is so gentle, you nearly convince yourself that it sounded loving. You nod weakly before heading back to the dressing room without saying anything. 

Kuroo’s gaze followed your back as you disappeared. He was amazed but also bothered at what just happened. You looked really into it, like you really wanted him. If the shoot didn’t finish any sooner, he might have closed that tiny gap that separated your lips from his. He’s been aching for you for so long that his control is slipping inch by inch every time there’s an opportunity to cross that line of friendship you set. When he saw you let go and completely relent within his hold, it was maddening at how he couldn’t have you at the moment. What’s worse is that even without the glamorous set, he knows you’re still not his to have. 

He walks towards the room where his clothes were hung and changes back to his usual suit. He asked the make up staff to remove everything on his face. He doesn’t like the feeling of having a layer of cosmetics on his skin. The hair they couldn’t do anything about because they used a lot of product to fix it up. 

When he gets out of the room, Mitsuki approaches him with a satisfied look on her face

“You did so well for someone with no experience at all. Do you have a card? I can hook you up for other gigs. You’ll do great.”

He smiles graciously at her generous offer, but he doesn’t want it. “Sorry, but I’m not really interested. I only did it cause it was her.” He said truthfully. Mitsuki’s mouth curled in amusement. “You know, y.n’s really good to work with. She always had this cool facade that never went down, and it works for her. We love her for it. But today,” she pauses as she gives him a meaningful look. “I’ve never seen her show such vulnerability and rawness. It was,” she sighs with admiration for you.

“Beautiful, wasn’t it?” He knows exactly what she’s saying. After all, he has seen several times how captivating your authenticity can be. 

“Soo, are you two dating or what?” Her eyebrows twitch up and down from anticipation at what he’s about to answer. He badly wants to say yes, but he doesn’t have that luxury. “Naaah. Like she said, I’m just a friend.”

She’s obviously dissatisfied with his response. He is too, but that’s the lousy truth. Out of the blue, she takes her phone out. “Too bad though. You two looked really good here.” She showed him the photo and it was you and him earlier. You were seated in the counter with your arms on his shoulders and his hands on your waist. It was when you were both laughing at his stupid statement.

“Can you send me that photo?”

“Why should I?”

He’s well aware of what she’s trying to do. It’s a business transaction, except for the lack of formality. She wants to get something in return, and he knows exactly what it is. 

“You’re good.” He admits with an impressed glint in his eyes.

“I am. So what’ll it be?” He knows that she knows she has the upperhand of the negotiation. She could probably tell that there’s something going on with the two of you. It’s just a matter of deciding which information to give her. But he didn’t have the fortune of having too many options. He didn’t want to reveal the nature of your relationship before. He wasn’t sure of your feelings for him. He can only speak for himself. 

“Fine. I sorta like her.” 

Her eyes brighten up. “Aha! I knew it. You should totally ask her out, kay? You’re gonna have tall and beautiful babies.” She put one hand on her cheek and closed her eyes while screeching at her own daydream of you and him getting together. When she calms down, she sends you the image file. “For real though. I’ve never seen her like that,” she points to your dazzling face in laughter in the photo. 

“Hey. What’re you two talking about?” You’re back to your normal clothes, but your hair and makeup was still there. 

“Nothing. Let’s go now?” He spoke immediately before your nosy director could say something. He walks to your direction before heading out together. “Bye! Update me, Kuroo-san!” Mitsuki said as she waved goodbye. You couldn’t help but be curious on what he should update her about. 

The rain stopped so no more umbrella horseplay. When you both get inside his car, you immediately ask him, “What was that about?”

“Uhh. She asked if I wanted to do other modeling projects.”

“Do you?”

He didn’t hesitate before answering, “No. That sort of stuff is not for me. I only did it to piss you off.” He starts the engine, then pivots his body to face you. “I must say though. I enjoyed seeing you eyefuck me.” Just when you are getting used to the peaceful, non-smug Kuroo, his true personality kicks right back in. Good thing you took your time getting changed and basically just calmed yourself down. 

“Glad you did. That’s the most you can get from me after all.”

His smile turned upside down at your remark. “Tch.” Your lips tug upwards at the side from his lack of retaliation. 

“I haven’t told you yet, but it wasn’t my first modeling experience.” 

You’re a bit surprised. Even though he has the appearance of a model, you didn’t think he’d do it. You agree with what he said just a while ago. It wasn’t for him. He’s best at his job right now. 

He gets his phone and scrolls up. He must be looking for a photo to show you as proof. When you see his screen, your heart swells. It was you and him a year ago. The neckline of your shirt was pulled to your shoulder for a makeshift off-shoulder while he knotted his t-shirt to form a crop top. You two wore large smiles while posing silly in front of the cam. It was right after when you told him that you’re a model.

“I- you... umm. You kept these?” You swipe the screen and see every single photo you took that day. Not one was deleted. You remember the laughter and absurd joy behind each frame. 

“Yea. Why wouldn’t I?”

One more swipe and there’s no other photo after yours. That’s when you notice that the photos are in the Favorites album. You felt like you were about to tear up. You’ve never felt so cherished in your whole life. Even though you left without saying a proper goodbye and no indication of going back, he still kept them. You tried so hard to forget about him, yet there he was, keeping these small tokens of what you had - proof that you really had been a part of his life.You felt something inside you crumble piece by piece. You should be scared, but at the moment, you don’t feel any fear. Instead, you were enraptured. 

You can feel your cheeks hurting from how wide your grin is. You don’t bother hiding it from him. 

“Can you send these to me?” You turn to him with the smile still plastered on your face, but he frowns at your question. 

“Those photos came from you.” 

You look back at his phone, your big smile reduced into a faint one that’s traced with melancholy. “I deleted them when I went to the US.” If he asks why, you wouldn’t know how to answer. Fortunately, he doesn’t. He gets his phone back from your hand and fiddles with it a bit. A few seconds later, you hear a notification from your own phone. When you open it, all the photos are sent to you. 

He looks at you warmly, his face devoid of anything but heartfelt fondness. “There. Like you never got rid of them.”

---

You lie on your bed with bottomless thoughts that night. Kuroo’s words weighed more than they should in your head as you stare at the photos. 

You deleted them to completely erase any trace of his existence in your life. Now they’re back in your phone with not a single photo missing from the stack. Ironically, it’s also you who asked for them back. Yet, you don’t mind. You came to accept that those memories existed. They happened. There’s no use trying to forget they did when he’s already back in your life anyways.

Looking at you and Kuroo in the images, you can’t avoid thinking how simple those times were. You were just two cool people who had sex for fun. You had no clue things would happen as they did - falling for him, leaving, and for some reason - destiny or whatever, meeting him again. The past you tried to leave behind crept up to you and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

You thought you’ve moved on. You’ve thoroughly convinced yourself that you’ve disposed of all unnecessary emotions that involved Kuroo. You thought that whatever it is that you felt when you met him again was just remnants of yesterday. You were so wrong. That‘s just what you tried to tell yourself, repeating the idea over and over in your head until you believed it. 

But it never really happened. You haven’t forgotten about him. When you went on dates in the U.S., you’d remember him. So you stopped trying to see anyone and attributed that to being scared of getting hurt again. Hence, you shut yourself out to anyone until you no longer found dating to be interesting. You told yourself getting in a relationship would just get in the way of your career. 

That wasn’t true. 

The truth is just as he said. Your feelings for him are still there, you never did get rid of them. The question now is how to proceed from here.

You jerk when your phone rings right at your hand. 

‘Kuroo’

You don’t want to answer it. You basically just admitted to yourself that you’re still in love with him. Hearing his voice right now would be dangerous for your fragile heart.

But it might be something important. He doesn’t usually call.

You press the answer button. You were about to say hello, but your heart was beating so fast that you were unable to get any word out.

“Hello?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat so you could speak. “Yeah?”

“Is something wrong? You sound a bit off?” How he could tell even through a phone call is unbelievable. “Everything’s fine. Why’d you call anyways?” You do your best to sound normal. “Block your Thursday next week. I’m throwing a party.”

“What for?”

“Mmm. Just felt like having one.”

You minimize the call to check your calendar if you had any plans that day. “Alright. I have an event in the morning, but that night’s free.”

“Nice!!” He sounded a bit too glad. 

“Is that why you called?” It’s a bit suspicious that he rang you just for that. It’s just a party. He could’ve texted you instead. 

“Why? Am I not allowed to call when I want to?” Your heart skips a beat from the playful tone in his voice. You picture him smirking on his phone while he’s lying in bed. You bite your lip at the image in your head. 

Screw you and your stupid imagination. 

“Good night, Kuroo.” You said dismissively. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to say anything else important anyways. He chuckles from the other line before speaking so ever softly with tenderness that gives you butterflies in your stomach.

“Good night, kitten.” 

It was just a simple good night but you were reeling. You fight the smile that was forcing itself to form on your lips. You look at your photos one more time and sigh. 

You are so in love with him. 

On the other end, Kuroo is all smiles to himself. Nothing beats hearing your voice after a long day. Once again, he stares at the photo Mitsuki gave him that afternoon. He wishes it was real. He wishes you were smiling for him, laughing with him, and happy with him. If only you gave any indication that you like him more than a friend, he would’ve made his move. 

Even though he knows you still desire him, he wouldn’t settle for just sex. He doesn’t want a repeat of the past. He wants something further than that and more importantly, you deserve better than that. But so far, he could tell you were enjoying the friendship and companionship only. Even if he wanted to take things forward, he’s not sure that that’s what you want. You haven’t given anything away for him to make his move. He doesn’t want to risk it and have you running for the hills. 

Will he ever make you fall for him? Should he just leave things as is or do something bolder for you to realize that to him, you’re not just a friend?

He sighs. 

He’s so in love with you.

Part 6 | Part 8 |  m.list

taglist: @lia-faerie-queen​ @mkkhaikyuu @fastidious-and-precise @winunk @feelkindahorny @cece-lives-here @babythotshq​ @arendizzle​

[tomdiddlyumptious]

Can u do a Tom Holland x black reader

Where there relationship has been secret for a while and reader confronts him while there with the ffh cast at a get together and they have a huge argument in front of everyone and reader starts to think he wants to keep her a secret because of what she looks like . Ending in fluff

YES. BTW IF ANYONE ELSE HAS REQUESTS THROW THEM AT ME I NEED TO MAKE IT UP TO UU GUYS🥺

Summary: huh-

Warnings: uhhhh- a dick thomas and a faking it andddd- NOW NOW NOW NANANANA NOW YÆS- jk fluff

A/n: AYO CHILL WITH THE FOLLOWS-AHHHH I LYSMMMMMMMM-

You wanted to not care, you wanted to act like your feelings weren’t hurt- but it wasn’t true, it wasn’t fair. You sigh and laid in bed with him thinking about everything you gave to him, everything you’ve done for him.....but he can’t even take you outside? What the fuck, no really. What the actual fuck.

Your blood boiled on the inside out, just looking at him clouded your mind with all these negative thoughts. You didn’t want it to happen but you couldn’t help it, and since you refused to shed a tear your head was pounding and lips slightly chapped. Hearing his moan made you jump a bit, turning your back to him as you acted sleep. “Y/n?” He whispered, turning enough to look at you and smiled, leaning over to kiss up your arm all the way to your cheek as he took his hand to rub your waist. “Y/n wake up, I wanna make you coffee” he chuckled, biting your ear before kissing it. You opened your eyes and tried best not to laugh, just something about getting caught always made you giggle.

“Hmm?” You let out when he pressed a kiss to your lips, “I wanna make you coffee” you smacked your lips and laid back down “Thomas I’m still tired” lie, you just wanted time to yourself to think about what your gonna do. “Pleaseeeee y/nnnnn!” He shook you and you groaned “fine” he smiled and bit your revealed shoulder making you squeal and try to wiggle him away leaving him laughing at you before he stood up and walked to the kitchen.

“Soooooo” he tried to ease the sudden tension sitting at the table, looking at you drinking the coffee. “Yes?” You looked up at him, placing the mug down. “Uh, I don’t know....just wanted to speak to you ya know?” “Nah I don’t” you shook your head and he furrowed his eyebrows at the mean comment, wondering what went wrong, but he knew better to bother you or else you’d go off the chain. “Zendaya wants to see you” Tom smiled, putting his hands in his lap and rubbing them together while he looked away from you. “Really?” You asked.

It was like a child and their independent, self centering father were talking....the silence loud and the father barely even caring...or at least that’s what it looked like. “Yeah, and so does Jacob, haz, Laura and tony” he cheered up, excited to see you happy. “When?” You grinned as he chuckled, “today, we have to go for lunch” he moved his chair closer to you and pressed a kiss on your forehead before holding your hand. “I love you so much, y/n” it wasn’t the first time he said that, but when he did it sent you unplesant chills as the angel and devil on your shoulders agrued.

‘If he were to love you then he would show you off’ ‘y/n no, he might be scared to’ ‘what is there to be so fücking afraid of, listen to me’ ‘stay positive! You both are gonna get there’ ‘you’ve been dating for multiple months, it’s not even fücking dating it’s like a fling at this point, just a longggg fling-‘

You cut them both out and looked at him “I-I” you choked. “Don’t worry you don’t have to say it, I already know you do” he chuckled.

‘What a cocky bitch’ ‘he just said he loves you!’ ‘He’s laughing at you because you can’t say three simple words’ ‘he’s not pressuring you into doing anything, listen to me!’ ‘You’ve been getting negative signs every single months, it’s time to fucking move on’ ‘just give him another chance! He can change!’ ‘He won’t y/n, he wont’

You didn’t know how to stick to, your angel couldn’t fight anymore because the your devil kept pointing out the larger things and storing up the pot, you chose angel this time and decided to give him one more single chance, after that it’s done. You know your worth.

You smiled up at him and put a kiss to his lips thanking him “it’s no problem princess”

After that whole shannanagin you washed the dishes and took another nap on the couch this time, you wanted to watch Disney+. Tommy woke you up and told you to get ready so you did, just something comfy like sweats and an oversized hoodie with some uggs, he wore jeans and a sweatshirt per usual. “You ready?” He asked watching you when you looked up and nodded, he smile and held his hand out for you to take and you put it there.

‘He’s using you!’ ‘He’s being nice!’

You told your conscious to shut up mentally and then poof they left, the ride was silent and playing some random songs that you couldn’t catch while he tapped his fingers on the wheel.

Once you came in the small quiet restaurant you all sat around the table saying hi to each other, tom sat next to you on the right and on the left was the boys while the rest of the girls sat across from you. Food was ordered and you all were chatting “sooo I see that you two are hanging out a whole bunch...what’s goin on?” Zendaya said. You looked at Thomas “no we aren’t together” he laughed “she’s a friend”

That hit so deep. To deep. You only nodded your head and filled your cheeks with air, Tom looked at you with a smile, his eyes happy too. “Yeah just friends!” You agree, “right” he said after, you released the air in your cheeks and bit the side of your lip. “Cool” Zendaya smiled and looked down at her plate.

Everything was normal for everyone else except you, the small people on your shoulders appearing.

‘I told youuuuu’ ‘y/n I never thought that I could agree with him’ your angel pointed to your devil ‘but I do, whatever needs to come it has to’ the devil perked up to the words, standing and walking to your ear before whispering all the things he’s done.

As you mind cakes up your eyes flare and nostrils perk and jitter, “I have to use the bathroom” you looked at Tom and he only shrugged but noticing the look in your eye he could tell somethings wrong. You stood and walked in the bathroom, your hands shook as you sat ontop of the counter, taking time to yourself to try and calm down but that’s all that you could think about. Trying to be respectful as possible.

Tom pretended to walk inside the men’s bathroom but instead came into the woman’s, seeing you stare at your hands. “Y/n?” He tried to be gentle. “What the fuck do you want, Thomas?” You looked up at him. “What-“ “get out” “tell me what’s wrong” he stepped in and the bathroom door closed by it’s self. “what’s wrong? We aren’t dating so what does that matter? Leave me alone” “I’m not leaving you a fücking lone, you need to get your act together so you can sit down with your fucking friends” he said sternly.

“What am I? Your fucking pet? Child? No the fuck I’m not!” You stood, walking over slowly. “I’ve tried my fücking best to ignore it, to suck it up, to hide it, but you fucking enrage me SO MUCH that I can’t help it!” “Shut up y/n your being to loud” “IM BEING TO LOUD? HERE ILL BE MORE FUCKING QUIETER!” You raised your voice louder.

Everyone’s eyebrows furrowed as they could hear your screams.

As you got closer he backed up more. “Y/n please-“ “what thomas? You dont wanna let everyone know what a fucking bitch you are? The fact that you LIE TO EVERYONE about our relationship”

At this point you were so blinded you didnt notice that you were infront of everyone.

“Why do you hide me away?” You genuinely asked, and suddenlyyou were crashed by a sudden rush of anxiety. “is it because i dont look like your past exes?” He was backed up against the table as you stopped right infront him, your eyes started to water as he didnt reply.

“Y/n i-“ zendaya harrison and jacob looked at tom too, it was clear what the problem was and zendaya was getting kinda mad and was waiting for an answer.

“Thomas” you begged and he had nothing, he said.... nothing.

Tears fell down his cheek as he watched you sniffle and rub your nose, grabbing your bag and running out.

Everyone watched him in silence as he leaned back into the table “excuse me” the lady gently said, tom noticed it wasnt his table so he only walked out of the store and waited outside.

He watched as you pulled out of the car but he didnt even feel like trying to make you come back, you do need to have some time to yourself.

“Fuck” he let out, wondering why he didnt say anything nor do anything. Harrison walked outside and sat next to him.

“Why?” He asked and tom looked at him. “I dont know i just felt like- i felt like my fans were gonna hurt her” “but you did” harrison pointed at tom “you didnt even give a chance and she stuck by your side for how long?” Tom told away and as he speaked he noticed how much of a dick he was......is.

You cried in the bed while you had your things out, getting ready to pack them up as you could barely breathe choking ob your sobs.

What did i do wrong? What did i do to deserve this? Should i change?

All these things running through your head and distracting yourself from putting your stuff up.

You ened up crying your ass off, crying it longer then the months that youve both been together, its all that you could think about honestly.

So when he came home you didn’t even notice your head hurt and your eyes stung, cuddling the pillow while your clothes were on the floor.

He hated seeing you like this, it made him cry and something he couldnt suck up, so when he saw you hurt and hearing your weeps it instantly hit him and made him come over and sit on the end of the bed, uncontrollable tears falling down his cheeks while he let out matching sobs.

You sat up and saw him, your eyes drying as they filled with hatred you stood and walked but tom beat you to the door, shutting it and locking it behind you.

You pointed to the door silently asking him to let you out but he shook his head refusing to. You walked up to him and tried to take his hand to pull him out the way but instead he forced his arms around your neck to hug you.

“Get off of me!” You yelled muffled. “No” he simply said, kissing your head as tears continued falling down his cheeks. “Get off- please get off!” You tried pushing him but he wouldnt budge.

“You can hit me, push me, whatever you want but im not letting you go” he gripped tighter speaking into your hair. “Fuck you” you muttered and he replied with a ‘i know’.

You both sat in silence all day and he was still hugging you but you didnt hug back until you calmed down, sobbing into his chest. “Y/n, you’re the one i want, you’re the one i need. So im begging you please... just dont leave me” he whispered starring at wall, his fingers touching your hair and trying to sooth you.

“Im scared your gonna leave me tom” you look up at him with your chin on his chest. He looker back at you “i cant even think of it, darling” he rubbed away your tears “but why-“ “i was scared” “what is there to be so afraid of?” “My fans are terrible... at least the 12 year olds” he chuckled “im scared they wont see the same beauty i see in my eyes, id rather keep you to myself then share you with this cruel world”

He reached down and kissed your forehead. “But youve been doing it for so long and-“ you sighed “i didnt feel like it was that long, you made me feel like-like you took it away. Like i could spend forever with you and it woukd seem like it was just an hour or so”

You gave him a weak smile and he returned it, reaching to meet his lips you did, the kiss salty from the shared tears but no one was complaining, you both laid in the bed and he cuddled right behind you, while you were sleep he took a picture and posted it with the caption ‘couldnt ever ask for anything better, love you y/n’

After that he shut off his phone and returned to your side and pressed a kiss on your neck before falling asleep, safe and sound.

[iworshipkeanureeves]

There Are No Rules (2/3)

Keanu Reeves x Reader (The Devil Wears Prada AU)

A/N: We are getting closer to @toomanystoriessolittletime​ birthday, so I’m updating the story dedicated to her birthday challenge. This one is a little dramatic with a lot of mixed feelings and some angst, but I hope you’ll enjoy it :)

Summary: Reader applies for a job in a fashion magazine where Keanu is editor-in-chief.

Warnings: angst, brief mentions of alcohol

Words: 3.2K

-Part 1-

“Keanu Reeve’s office, how can I help you?”

These words got carved into Y/N’s brain over the past couple of weeks. She had been repeating them at least fifty times a day, usually through her gritted teeth, and most of these calls would eventually leave her on the verge of tears.

No matter how much she hated this job, every day seemed easier than the previous one. Y/N felt like she was finally getting the hang of it all, and it was a little glimpse of hope that perhaps she was going to survive this madness. Maybe she was stronger than she thought she was.

Was Reeves as terrifying as everyone had told he would be? Yes, but in a strangely different way.

He had never really shouted or insulted her directly, yet Keanu had his way with words to make Y/N understand how immensely she had failed assigned tasks. Sometimes just his presence was fearsome, as his nit-picking gaze would land directly on Y/N’s desk, making her guts squeeze. Even if Y/N knew she was doing everything correctly, she felt like it wasn’t enough, it was impossible to live up to his standards.

When not in meetings, Keanu would sit in his office swiveling in his chair, enjoying the spectacular view of the New York skyline. Honestly, it didn’t appear like he was doing much, but Y/N could tell from his focused eyes that his mind was constantly at work.

Creatively Reeves had no rules, but when it came to his office, he preferred having everything structured. Every morning Y/N would receive a text stating Reeve’s breakfast order, and she had to get it before he came to work. A cup of plain black coffee, ready on his desk on time, was essential in order to make the day better for the whole office. Y/N was responsible for that, and whenever she failed, every co-worker would be badgering her for the remaining day.

The worst of them was Emily, who wouldn’t shut up about her upcoming Fashion Week in Paris and all expensive garments she was going to be able to wear. Y/N was neither bored nor jealous, but it was very hard to concentrate hearing Emily babbling for the whole day. Eventually, it would leave Y/N making more mistakes, which led to even more disapproval received from Reeves.

---

It was one of those calm days when Keanu didn’t have much on his hands. “Y/N, come over,” he called, and based on his frigid tone, Y/N immediately knew something was wrong. “Where are the Valentino samples I asked for the run-throughs?”

Y/N could already feel her hands sweating and her heart beating through her chest. “What?” her brows furrowed with tears threatening her eyes, she was simply too tired. “But you never mentioned those…”

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Reeves sighed expressing his disappointment, which at this point was so familiar to her. “Will you ever do anything right here?”

Anything right…?

His words left Y/N helpless. For the past couple of weeks she had been working hard like never before, giving all her energy to keep the office organized and satisfy every single one of Reeves’ whims. Yes, she had made a few mistakes, but they were nothing compared to how much right she had done.

It was the moment Y/N realized she had had enough, she wasn’t even an assistant anymore, she was Reeves’ maid and it was time to save the last bits of her dignity.

“Oh come on,” her eyes were beginning to fill with anger, tears evaporating in the feverish air. Y/N didn’t even notice her clenched fists with nails digging into her damp skin. “Most of the things I do here are right, they are freaking perfect,” she breathed out, nearing to his desk. It looked like she was ready to fight him.

“It’s nice that you think so, but…”

“You never even notice, do you?” Y/N cut him off with a slight rise in her tone. “All you do is sit in your office, drinking coffee and flipping through the same couple of pages for the whole day,” she knew she was exaggerating, but Y/N was furious, she wanted to make Reeves feel bad, just like he had been making her this whole time. “You know, you couldn’t even manage to tell me to go get those samples, maybe you should start doing things right yourself?”

“Oh sweetheart,“ Reeves exhaled fixing his expensive scarf and stood up in need of reestablishing his dominance over Y/N, his wide shoulders were blocking the sun and casting shadow over her enraged face. He confidently walked around his table, and as Y/N saw him getting closer, she got scared not knowing what he was about to do next. Luckily, Reeves stopped crossing his arms and was ready to say something, but Y/N interrupted him again.

“Don’t sweetheart me,” Y/N knew she had crossed the line and there was no way back, disrespectful words had already escaped her throat, so she decided to go even further. “I am the only one here working my ass off, while Emily is barely functioning on her messed up diet. And yet somehow she’s still taking all the credit for my work. I-I just can’t deal with you and your crazy people anymore. You’re all delusional here,” she was practically shouting at this point.

It all felt like a dream to Y/N, she could barely understand what was happening, and her hammering heart was leaving her lightheaded. Y/N was gasping for air, all trembling and looking a little disoriented, Keanu could see that she physically wasn’t doing well.

Y/N felt his presence closer than before, his warm breath tickling her forehead. “Go on, I’m listening,” Reeves said, raising his hands up to her shoulders for better support. His words were unbelievably calm again, but this time it seemed like Keanu had no intention to intimidate, he genuinely wanted for Y/N to slow down a little and breath. She was questioning though, whether Keanu truly cared for her, or he just didn’t want to deal with the problem of Y/N passing out in front of him.

“I’m done,” she grunted escaping his grip. “I’m so. Fucking. Done.” Her words were quiet but convincing.

For a moment they stood still, Y/N was breathing deeply, debating whether it was time she should turn around and go, but Keanu’s sly smirk managed to catch her eye. “What’s so funny?” she asked, still annoyed, but slowly realizing she had been acting a little crazy, Y/N was beginning to regret her words.

“I’m proud of you, Y/N,” Keanu grinned, leaving her extremely confused.

“What?” She expected Reeves to be angry with her, maybe even come back with more hurtful words. But he didn’t.

“You’re done walking around with those sad puppy eyes, and I can finally see that you’ve got something in you. I saw that fire burning inside, keep it up.” He was about to come closer again, but tucked his hands back in the last second, keeping a polite distance.

“U-uh, okay..?” Y/N was still in shock, trying to understand how he could be so nice to her all of a sudden, especially after this little tantrum she had just thrown.

“Now I can be sure you’ll keep things in place here when I and Emily leave for the Fashion Week,” he tried to locate her sight, checking if she was fine. “Unless you really meant it when you said about being done, but I don’t think you did,” he gave her one last encouraging grin and returned to his usual state, solid and untroubled.

Indeed she wished she could take her words back, Y/N needed this job more than anything, she wasn’t going to find another one soon that would pay enough, and she couldn’t afford to be unemployed. She had secretly applied to a couple of other magazines, but since no one had reached back to her yet, she had to settle for what Reeves was offering her.

Still, it left Y/N wondering whether Keanu had been playing her all along, pulling strings one by one in order to see how far she can go before lashing out. She felt like his little toy, maybe one of his creative projects, something for him to have fun with. But Y/N was having no fun at all.

“I’ll go call Valentino about the samples,” Y/N exhaled turning around and rushed to the phone. Her heart was still racing with adrenaline flowing in her veins, and honestly, she was proud of herself too.

---

At 1:00 AM Y/N’s phone rang and she really thought about not answering it. Just in case, she decided to open her eyes and check the caller’s ID, unfortunately, it said Keanu Reeves.

In an hour, Y/N was standing on his doorstep holding a custom Tom Ford suit tailored just for Reeves. Of course, Keanu made them work on it until the very last night before leaving for Paris, and Y/N had to be the one bringing it to him.

“What took you so long?” He reproached opening his front door. Y/N was expecting to find him all pampered in some chic robe, but he was wearing simple jeans paired with a grey t-shirt, and his hair was messily falling over his face. To Y/N’s surprise, he looked like a normal human being, completely different from what she was used to see.

“Sorry, I was trying to be as quick as possible,” she smiled apologetically, hoping he wouldn’t be too mad.

Keanu just sighed opening his door wider, implying Y/N should come inside. She was immediately looking around for something to hang the suit on, so that she could quickly turn around and go home.

“Yet, here you are, wearing a full face of make-up,” he spoke locking the door, and Y/N took this as a sign that he wasn’t going to let her easily leave. “You know, showing up twenty minutes earlier would have impressed me much more.”

“Come,” he invited her up the stairs, waiting for Y/N to make up her mind. She was quite reluctant at first, lagging in the hallway, but she was also very intrigued, and ultimately, curiosity took over her.

Y/N was following Reeves mesmerized by the penthouse he was living in. High ceiling and tall white walls decorated with colorful artwork, it seemed like he was living in an art gallery. Every painting was more eccentric than the previous one, but it wasn’t happy kind of art. In fact, Y/N felt surrounded by a somber ambience, and the quietness of his home only added to it.

“So, you live here all alone?” Y/N realized she knew nothing about his personal life, no one had even gossiped about him in the office.

“Mhm,” Keanu hummed, showing the way to his living room, where his luggage was set ready, together with the rack curving from numerous expensive suits, which all looked the same to Y/N. “Hang it here,” he commanded turning to the console table to pour himself a drink.

Y/N was very careful, afraid the rack wouldn’t hold any more weight. Fortunately, everything went fine, and she was about to leave the room, when Reeves stretched his arm handing the bottle to her. “Help yourself,” he offered, leaving Y/N unsure whether she should accept it or not.

“U-uh, I think I should go,” Y/N kind of wanted to agree, she was interested to learn more about him, but at the same time she thought it would be wise to keep a professional distance between them.

“Do you have someone waiting for you?” He was unexpectedly persistent to make Y/N stay, and she didn’t really know what to think of it. 

“No, I just don’t want to disturb you,” she was trying to turn him down, but her words didn’t sound too convincing. Maybe it was his tacit loneliness bringing sympathy to Y/N’s heart, which was forcing her to stay for a little longer.

“Be my guest.” His arm was getting tired, so he pushed the bottle further, practically sticking it in Y/N’s hands. Instead of waiting for another rejection, he went past her and got himself comfortable on the sofa in front of the fireplace.

For a minute Y/N still hesitated, she wasn’t afraid to tell him no, but there was something mysteriously captivating about Reeves and she wanted to explore it further. Y/N poured herself a modest glass and went to join him for a conversation.

“Did you force me to go get you Tom Ford in the middle of the night just because you wanted company?“ she asked jokingly, but then immediately realized it was probably true and the question might have sounded a little offensive.

“Don’t you already know the answer?” Keanu mumbled looking down, and Y/N couldn’t believe it was the same man that she had been terrified of before. Now he seemed vulnerable and exposed, without that mask putting a stone cold expression on his face.

“Can I ask you something else then?” Y/N was much softer now, sipping her drink and thinking if the alcohol was going to start working soon.

“Go ahead,” he smiled.

“Why did you hire me?” It was the question bothering Y/N from the very beginning. She had been feeling so out of place at Vogue that even she wouldn’t have hired herself there.

“I needed some fresh air, I was getting tired of seeing the same kind of people.” Y/N was looking at him hypnotized, his husky melodic voice was like music to her ears. When at Vogue, Y/N would pray for Reeves to just shut up and go away, but now she felt like she could sit for hours just listening to him. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate Vogue girls, I really fancy them. They live on caffeine, nicotine and five hundred calories a day, yet they’re still always perfect and on top of their game, it’s impressive… But honestly, they can be depressing sometimes, and I thought I just needed someone like…” Keanu stalled, thinking about his next words. “Like you,” he silently said.

“What am I like?”

“I don’t know, you’re just different. You seem like you don’t care at all.” Keanu put an empty glass down, shifting his core towards her.

Every little move was bringing them closer, and Y/N knew she was walking a very thin line here. “And that’s good?” Y/N asked getting a little bolder, she was curious to know more of his opinion on her.

“It’s definitely not bad,” Keanu murmured, gazing into Y/N’s eyes. They both had their elbows leaning on the backrest and Y/N felt Keanu’s hand gently landing onto hers. She was trying to think of possible questions to keep the conversation going, but his touch was too distracting, and Keanu got the chance to speak first.

“What would you do if I kissed you now?” He asked, locking his eyes on Y/N.

Her mind went blank and she didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. Briefly she thought that maybe the words were all in her head, just her imagination disclosing her deepest desires, but very soon she realized this was a real question.

Maybe Keanu was playing her feelings again, provoking and expecting a reaction, but fuck, she really wanted him to kiss her. Part of her hoped it was the alcohol speaking, but Keanu only had so little of it that it was an impossible case. It was all him, loud and clear, asking Y/N what she would do if he kissed her…

“A-are you going to?” Y/N stuttered, feeling the weight of his sturdy palm pressing on her.

A long silent pause followed after her words, or maybe time just felt different as Y/N was anxiously waiting for Keanu’s actions, she was desperately holding herself back from falling into his lips.

“No,” Keanu suddenly came back to his senses sliding his hand away. It was obvious he felt uneasy too, getting all flustered and trying his best to stay composed. “That would be highly inappropriate. I am your boss.” He exhaled with disappointment in his voice.

“Y-yes,” Y/N gulped, downing the remaining of her drink.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, that would be inappropriate.” Y/N stretched her arm trying to grasp the handbag lying next to her on the sofa. “And I should get going, it’s late,” she blurted standing up and heading towards the exit. Y/N completely understood that running away was not very mature, but she thought it was better this way than staying to talk this through and saying something much more stupid.

Meanwhile, Keanu was rushing after, following her to the front door looking all worried. Y/N was relieved remembering she would not have to see him for another week and she foolishly hoped that everything would be forgotten once he came back. Keanu, on the other hand, had something else in mind.

“Wait” he grabbed Y/N by the wrist, turning her away from the door. “Come to the Fashion Week with me.”

Keanu struck Y/N with his words for the second time this night. She knew they had to leave in the morning and Emily was probably sitting at home with her bags full, getting ready for the event she had been dreaming about for so long.

“What?” Y/N knew that agreeing would make her a terrible person. “No, I can’t, Emily would never forgive me,” she was eagerly shaking her head, failing to understand what the hell was happening. She didn’t want to reject Keanu, but betraying Emily like that was not an option too. What would that make her? No different than any other person from Vogue.

“Why do you care?” he asked moving closer, and all Y/N could focus on was his lips, the ones she almost got to taste tonight. “Just please don’t tell me she’s your friend, because trust me, there are no friends in this business.”

“No, we’re not friends, but still… Don’t you understand how mean it would be to do so?” Y/N was trying to uphold her values, but Keanu was ripping them away from her.

“Has she ever been nice to you?”

“Well not really, but…”

“Great, I’ll call her to tell the news,” Keanu said with his chest almost pressing Y/N to the door, while he was working behind her to undo the lock. For a moment Y/N felt like Keanu was kidnapping her, but at the same time, she knew that a simple ‘no’ coming from her could resolve everything. She just didn’t want to say it. “I’ll pick you up at eight, good night,” Keanu smiled letting her go.

“Good night…” Deep down Y/N knew how wrong it all was, she didn’t feel like she deserved it, not to mention how devastated Emily was going to be, and on top of everything, there was that awkward kiss moment, which Y/N still couldn’t fully comprehend.

Nonetheless, it was Y/N’s chance, her big opportunity to put herself out there, make connections, and maybe soon she was going to be the journalist she had always dreamt being of.

-Part 3-

Tag-list: @keandrews @rdjloverxxx @jadore30-deactivated20200603​ @danceoftwowolves

>Masterlist<

[fortunatelylori]

GOT: The exhausting march towards the dramatic TWIST

I think I’m going to shock people with this statement but ... out of all the season 8 episodes we’ve seen so far, episode 4 is by far my favorite. 

Now don’t get too excited by the seemingly warm tone ... what I mean by favorite is that I hated it less than episode 1 through 3, which is about as high a praise as I’m likely going to have for this debacle that is season 8. 

General impressions:

There are two reasons why I felt this episode was better than the last 3: 

1. It was more focused, with 3 clear storylines: D*ny’s war for the crown (story A), Jon’s and his family continuing to be dead inside (story B), Jaime’s return to his sister-lover (story C). This kind of focus and definite structure should be a given. However GOT decided to go all yolo on our asses this season and as we’ve already covered in my other reviews, it’s gotten to the point where I’m genuinely shocked to see an episode that doesn’t jump from plot point to plot point like an enraged orangutan on ecstasy. 

2. It was centered around this woman: 

Look at that face... Holy Shit! She’s going to give me nightmares!

Now, normally an episodes focused on D*ny would be bad news for me because I don’t particularly care for her, as half of my list of metas can conclusively prove. 

However, since she’s the only character whose POV isn’t hidden and her scenes aren’t cut short or drained of any and all possibility of actual human emotion, she’s become the only character that I can watch without feeling frustrated, confused or on the verge of an anxiety attack. I actually like to know what the hell is happening on screen and what the character wants in any given scene. Call it a pet peeve of mine. 

Although even D*ny, as well rounded a character as she is, suffers from the Ds oscillating trend this season. Last episode, D*ny stood her ground against the NK, committed herself and her armies to the defense of the realm and saved Jon’s life. This episode, she’s back in full Mad King’s daughter mode, with a pinch of Viserys on the side. 

But that’s a quibble, honestly and you can always argue that Jorah’s death really pushed D*ny into a dark place in which the crown of Westeros and her war against Cersei becomes more important than her own humanity. 

However, what isn’t a quibble is that death seems to have become a shorthand device the Ds employ to signal D*ny’s eventual rise as Queen of the Ashes. She loses Jorah in episode 3 and by the end of episode 4, she loses both Rhaegal and Missandei as well, leaving her in a seeming cliffhanger over whether or not to put the Red Keep to the torch as revenge. 

The problem is that D*ny had been chopping at the bit to burn down King’s Landing since season 7 when she had to be talked out of doing just that TWICE. This episode Tyrion once again has to put the breaks on D*ny’s fiery fantasies. 

This scene right here is a treasure trove of Mad D*ny clues. But let’s focus on two of them. Firstly, the impetuous to burn KL is stil there: 

D*ny: We will hit her hard. We will rip her out root and stem. 

Tyrion: The objective here is to remove Cersei without destroying King’s Landing. 

That is not a happy face ...

As D*ny put’s it, they need the capital because otherwise Cersei can continue calling herself the queen of the 7 kingdoms. 

That’s D*ny’s priority, folks: the acquiring of that stupid title. 

And if she has to march her weakened army, her sick dragon/child for thousands of miles and burn thousands of innocent people to get that title, she’ll do it. 

Considering this set-up, why exactly did we need Missandei and Rahegal to die? One day into Tyrion’s proposed blockade and D*ny would be roasting giant marshmallows in the Red Keep gardens. 

In my opinion,  the reasons for killing Rhaegal and Missandei are not tied to the dark!dany arc at all. Instead, Rhaegal gets killed because they want to make the D*ny/Cersei conflict as even as possible so they’re eliminating one of D*ny’s weapons of mass destruction. 

And Missandei ... poor Missandei gets killed in order to shock the audience. There is absolutely no reason to kill her in this way ... If she was to die, the time for that would have been in episode 3. They have to actually push the suspension of disbelief in order to convince the audience that somehow Euron got a hold of this girl from an armada of wrecked ships, instantly knew how important she was, dragged her back to the Red Keep and then brought her up on that wall expecting .... what??! 

Euron and Cersei are far too smart to believe D*ny will give up her war for Missandei so why kill her so publicly? To intimidate D*ny? They didn’t need Missandei for that. They could have just as well beheaded all of the hostages they took from the ships. 

They kill Missandei because that’s the easiest way for the Ds to surprise the audience and for them to garner some sort of sympathy for D*ny when she eventually does end up going all Pablo Escobar on a city filled with a million people. 

The other glaring Mad D*ny moment in the scene and one that plays straight into political Jon, is this: 

Sansa: The men we have left are exhausted. Many of them are wounded. They will fight better if they have time to rest and recuperate. 

D*ny: How long do you suggest? 

Sansa: Can’t say for certain. Not without talking to the officers. 

D*ny: I came North to fight alongside you. At great cost to my armies and myself. And now that the time has come to reciprocate, you want to postpone?

Jon: The Northern forces will honor their promises and their allegiance to the queen of the 7 kingdoms. What you command, we will obey. 

I’ve seen a lot of people being angry at Jon for “taking D*ny’s side” in this conflict but in order to understand how this plays into political Jon, there are 2 things you need to keep in mind: 

The first is exactly when Sansa intervenes in the conversation. She steps in directly after both Tyrion and Jon manage to convince D*ny not to burn down King’s Landing. D*ny reluctantly agrees to the blockade because that would mean having to wait to take the crown and as she puts it: 

D*ny: The longer I leave my enemies alone, the stronger they become.  

Now Sansa wants to delay her even further. This is not acceptable to D*ny. 

In addition to that, I don’t think Sansa appreciates just how dangerous and volatile D*ny is. She doesn’t know about the men being fed to dragons, or the 163 crucified masters or how close she was to jumping on a dragon and burning down KL in the past. 

Jon, however, does understand D*ny quite well by this point. I don’t buy his speech as him agreeing with D*ny at all in this scene and considering this is the face he puts on to silence Sansa: 

I’d say this is a guy desperately trying to keep a bomb from exploding directly in the face of someone he cares very deeply about. 

Narratively, I believe this is supported by the Sansa/Tyrion scene later on when Sansa is surprised to realize that Tyrion is actually afraid of D*ny. She simply hadn’t considered that people are scared of what D*ny might do. 

As interesting as D*ny’s descent into madness is (despite Missandei’s useless death), it’s counterbalanced by the shit show that continues to be Jon Snow. 

Watching Jon’s arc this season, and by extension all the Starks, is like banging your head against a concrete wall over and over again, without making a dent. It’s pointless, exhausting and painful. 

At this point I don’t care if he’s in love with D*ny or Sansa, if he’s pol!Jon or idiot!Jon, if he wants to be king or fuck off beyond the wall. I genuinely don’t care anymore. What I do care about is being given access to Jon’s story enough to figure out what the hell he wants and what he’s doing. 

It’s one thing to keep a character’s POV hidden for an episode but we’re going on almost 2 seasons now. And Jon isn’t a secondary character like Littlefinger where you can get away with hiding the POV because he’s not as big a part of the plot as a main character is. 

But Jon is a main character and this effort to keep him enigmatic and mysterious isn’t only wreaking havoc on his arc but it’s also affecting the rest of the Stark family. Case and point: 

In case anyone is keeping score, this is actually the first and only scene all the Starks have together in 4 episodes, amounting to 5 hours of footage. 

And just look where they decide to end this scene! Right when we’re going to see Arya and Sansa react to the parentage reveal and see what they and Jon discuss next. They gave us the mere bones of this scene and left us without the meat. 

The important part of the scene, the emotional underbelly, the opportunity to see these people come together and support and embrace Jon as the Stark they still think he is, is taken away from us. Because that would chip away at the mystery surrounding Jon’s arc this season. 

I’d argue depriving Jon and the Starks of the emotional bond they share is way too steep a price to pay for what is essentially a cheap thirll that becomes cheaper and cheaper by the minute considering they’re delaying whatever reveal they’re planning on making past the point of me giving a shit!

This episode did, however, give me the perfect visual way of describing Jon’s storyline right now. Jon is basically stuck between: 

and 

and he chooses neither. 

He sends Ghost away (without patting him because having KH and the wolf in the same frame would be too costly for the overly expensive GOT) and refuses to ride Rhaegal because ... reasons. 

So instead of seeing him choose between being a direwolf and a dragon, we’re seeing him do nothing, while looking overly enigmatically blank for 5 hours straight. I just .... I’m sooooo tired of this. Can this be over now?

PS: I’d discuss Jaime’s storyline this episode but I don’t want to say: I told you so ... Well ... ok, if you insist:

a little sour milk dribble on Tormund’s beard and a silly giant story isn’t going to make me forget that Jaime has arrived in Winterfell on the coat tails of a 20+ year toxic relationship with a woman who is not only his twin sister but is also currently pregnant with his baby.

Also:

Jaime: She (Cersei) has always been good at using the truth to tell lies. Don’t be too hard on yourself. She’s fooled me more than anybody.

Tyrion: She never fooled you. You always knew exactly what she was. And you loved her anyway.

Yeah …  Imagine entering a relationship with a guy exiting THAT. Dealing with sour milk beard is mild by comparison.

(source)

Favorite scenes

The “If you love me, you’ll erase yourself” scene: 

There is something so deeply disturbing about this scene that I can’t help but be fascinated by it. The J0nereys relationship has always been toxic and this scene right here encapsulates just why: 

In order to be with D*ny, Jon needs to give up everything that makes him who he is. In season 7, he was forced to bend the knee and suffer the ire of the entire North for it. Now D*ny is asking him not only to give up his claim but also lie about who he is and separate himself from his family in order to make sure that D*ny gets to be queen. 

No one, not one person in this world, no matter how beautiful, rich, good in bed or seemingly in love with you, is worth you giving up who you are and removing yourself from your family (provided said family is not toxic, of course). And anyone that would ask you to do that, should be dumped on their asses pronto.

Jon can’t do that, unfortunately. Because he’s brought D*ny here to fight “his war” and pretended to be in love with her. And also because D*ny simply isn’t rational anymore. So he’s stuck apologizing for people liking him (just think about that!) and having to put up with her saying things like: 

D*ny: It doesn’t matter what you want! You didn’t want to be king in the North! What happens when they demand you press your claim and TAKE WHAT IS MINE? 

Except the crown isn’t D*ny’s. It never was. Logistically speaking, the crown belongs to Cersei right now. Legitimately, the crown is Jon’s. It’s D*ny that is actually taking what is his, not the other way around. Imagine making someone apologize for you doing that to them. That’s all kinds of messed up. 

Speaking of which: 

Jon: You are my queen! I don’t know what else I can say!

D*ny: You can say nothing! To anyone! Ever! Never tell them who you really are. Swear your brother and Samwell Tarly to secrecy and tell no one else!

You know what she sounds like? Like Tangled’s Mother Gothel convincing Rapunzel that she’s better off being her prisoner. 

Yikes! She’s genuinely terrifying!

Also: 

D*ny: Sansa will want to see me gone and you on the Iron Throne. 

Jon: She won’t. 

D*ny: She’s not the girl you grew up with. Not after what she’s seen. Not after what they’ve done to her. 

2 things: 

1. I hope every D*ny stan in the universe either denounces D*ny for victim blaming or closes their mouths about feminism, misogyny and pitting women against women for the rest of time. If you support this woman and consider her a positive role model, you are not allowed to discuss these subjects in public ever again. 

2. Can you really blame Jon for taking D*ny’s side against Sansa in the council meeting? He already knows just what D*ny thinks of Sansa and what she’d like to do to her if she is given the opportunity. Hurting Sansa’s feelings is preferable to her losing her life. 

The “This better not be unrequited love, Ds!” scene: 

This face right here ... this face: 

It’s heartbreaking. And what really angers me about this scene is that it could have been all the more meaningful had the parentage reveal been played in full. Actually seeing Sansa reacting, hearing Jon’s fears or his anguish, would make her fighting for his crown when he refuses to do so even more powerful and romantically charged. 

Still, this scene comes in direct contrast to the Jon/D*ny scene. While D*ny wants to force Jon to live a lie for the rest of his life, to humble himself and make himself small so she can have all the power and the love of the people, Sansa not only shoots down the possibility of her being the only one in charge of the North and holding steadfast to the idea that Jon will stay in Winterfell. She goes as far as tell Tyrion Jon is the rightful heir when she realizes that despite his supposed loyalty to D*ny, Tyrion is actually afraid of her. 

She sees an opening to ensure Jon’s freedom and she takes it without hesitation. 

If, at the end of all of this, Jon ends up going beyond the wall instead of staying with a woman who loves and values him this much, then Westeros truly is a cruel and horrible place and I’ll be sorry I invested so many years of my life to it.

Episode MVPs

Euron “Best General in fucking Westeros” Greyjoy: 

Euron gets to be MVP this episode because in one fell swoop he destroyed D*ny’s fleet and brought down one of her dragons. What can I say ... Competency really turns me on. 

Too bad Cersei doesn’t love him. If these two actually cared about each other, they could be the McBeths of Westeros. Nothing could stand in their way!

Lord “What an Icon!” Varys: 

What can one say about this glorious man? He is MVP for the second time in 4 reviews and somehow I think he’s not done yet. 

Varys and Tyrion got down to some realpolitick this episode. But Varys had some truly outstanding lines, like: 

Varys: How many others know? 

Tyrion: Including us? Eight. 

Varys: Well, then it’s not a secret anymore. It’s information. If a handful of people know now, hundreds will know soon. 

It’s so rare to find a man that understands gossip so well!

Varys: I’ve served tyrants all my life. They all talk about destiny. 

As a person born under a communist regime, I concur, Varys. 

And my personal favorite:  

Varys: You know where my loyalty stands. You know I will never betray the realm. 

Tyrion: What is the realm? A vast continent, home to millions of people, most of whom don’t care who sits on the Iron Throne. 

Varys: Millions of people, many of whom will die if the wrong person sits on that throne. We don’t know their names but they’re just as real as you and I. They deserve to live. They deserve food for their children. I will act in their interests, no matter the personal cost. 

If this show doesn’t end with a 7 foot, cockless statue of Varys presiding over the whole of Westeros as the ICON that he is, what was even the point?!?!?

[joeycupcakerichter]

Zach Dempsey - Changes

A/N: So I watched the trailer and I saw Zach with Chloe and so I had to write something because my heart was screaming. As always, gif not mine but I needed it for reasons and it wouldn’t pop up in the gif search thing >< (also, any and all dislike discern toward Chloe is because of Steel Bars and not a reflection of how I actually feel about the character outside of the fact I am a little surprised Zach is going to be with her despite the fact that I suppose that should’ve been obvious)

Pairing: Zach x Reader

Warnings: There’s some violence, there’s a reference to what Monty did to Tyler, there’s angst and there’s Monty

Prompt: The goddamn S3 trailer if I’m perfectly honest.

Word Count: 1939

Masterlist

Pulling the door open with a long groan, you weren’t ready for the sight you were treated to within. Zach, your Zach, was snuggled up with her. With Chloe. Shaking your head, you reminded yourself, again and again, he wasn’t yours anymore. You had seen to that. You just hadn’t expected him to move on so quickly.

Realizing you were frozen in your place by all the stares pouring in around you, you shook your head sharply. Pointedly avoiding all of gazes burning holes into your skin, you took extra care to avoid the one that felt like an actual fire lapping your skin. You could feel Zach’s eyes following you as you disappeared into the bathroom, wiping away the tears that started stinging in your eyes. The bathroom was blissfully empty, and you allowed yourself to dissolve onto the floor as the weight of your pain sunk onto your shoulders. 

“(Y/N)? Are you in here?” A cautious voice cut through your sobs. Jerking your head up, you found Jessica pushing through the door at the sight of you crumpled on the filthy bathroom floor. “(Y/N)! Are you okay? What’s wrong?” she asked, shaking her head almost immediately when she realized how stupid of a question that had been, instead addressing the obvious, “I thought you broke up with him?”

“I didn’t think he would move on so quickly,” you croaked, looking back at your hands through your blurred vision, “I told him I wanted to take a break for a little while. We’d been having a lot of problems lately but I didn’t think he would go straight after… her.”

“Sweetheart, I hate to be the one to tell you this but-”

“Save it Jess, I really don’t need this right now,” you cut her off, pushing yourself off the floor and moving over to sink to see where to start salvaging your make-up.

“Uh, okay, rude. Fuck you too then.” She rolled her eyes, turning on her heel and pulling the door open with enough force to send it ricocheting into the wall behind it.

Taking a breath, you focused on your make-up, knowing if you thought about how much you’d just pissed Jessica off you’d only serve to make yourself more upset. Using a damp paper towel, you started dabbing under your eyes, trying to reduce the redness that had taken over your face. The bell ringing startled you, but you resolved to finish up first, telling yourself that first period would just have to understand. When you were finally satisfied that your appearance didn’t give away that you’d been crying, you pulled the door open to the bathroom and headed to first period.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), thank you so much for joining us.” Mr. Clarke frowned as you entered the classroom.

“Uh, feminine issues,” you muttered as you found your seat and plopping into it.

“Yeah, she thinks she fu- messed up dumping Dempsey,” a smug voice called from behind you. You turned to find Monty staring at you lecherously, “You should give me a chance, (Y/N). Dempsey can’t treat you right like I can.”

“I don’t think we have the same kinks,” you shot back dangerously, “See, I don’t like foreign objects in any of my orifices like you seem to be more than happy to prov-”

“That’s enough!” Mr. Clarke interrupted you.

“I didn’t fucking do whatever that little fucking psychopath said I did,” Monty glared, ignoring the teacher.

“So worried about being a ‘man’,” you scoffed, “Why don’t you man up to what you did to Tyler.” You stood up, knocking your chair down.

“(Y/N), Montgomery!” Mr. Clarke intervened again, pushing his way between the two of you. Your chest heaved with anger, grateful to have someone to take your aggression out on.

“Everyone knows what you did, Monty. Just because you didn’t go to jail doesn’t mean you got away with it,” you glared coldly. “I mean, just look at what happened to your pal Bryce.”

Everything happened so quickly, Monty’s chair hit the ground with a loud slap as it came in contact with the floor and he lunged for you, stopped only by the teacher cutting in between the two of you again. He shoved Monty back onto the floor but Monty leapt to his feet again, pushing Mr. Clarke into the desk behind him. He balled up his fist and sent it crashing painfully into your jaw. Initially stunned by the impact, you were able to dodge out of the way of his follow up, leaving only the wall for his fist to come in contact with. He cried out in anguish, trying to shake the pain out of his hand.

“Montgomery! Principal’s office!” Mr. Clarke bellowed, finally at his wit’s end as he grabbed the scruff of Monty’s shirt and dragged him out into the hall. Monty glared at you the entire time, spitting at you as he was pulled through the doorway.

Unable to take the stares from around the room, you grabbed your bag, following the two out of the classroom, heading out the front door instead. You started walking, to nowhere in particular, until you finally threw your belongings onto the bleachers as you rubbed your jaw gingerly. How could things have gone so wrong so quickly? Two days ago, you and Zach had been sitting out here, talking about random bullshit and now you were alone nursing a bruised jaw.

“H-Hey, (Y/N),” a voice you were simultaneously ecstatic and enraged to hear called nervously behind you, “You okay?”

“Leave me alone, Zach,” you shot him down, despite every fiber of your being begging you not to. You were silently relieved when he ignored your demands, plopping his bag down next to yours as he sat down next to you.

“I heard about Monty hitting you, are you okay?” he asked again, trying to get a good look at your face to assess the damage.

“I’m just mad I didn’t get the chance to hit him harder,” you lie, looking out onto the field opposite of where he was sitting, not allowing him a good look at the bruise already formed on your chin.

“You expect me to believe you hit him at all?” Zach grinned, reaching out and grabbing your hand gently, “These knuckles have never seen a fight a day in their lives,” he murmured, rubbing them softly. “No sense in tarnishing them on Monty’s ugly face.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend to worry about?” you demanded, ripping your hand out of his.

“G-Girlfriend?” he asked, genuine confusion flooding his voice. “I thought that��s what I was doing?”

“You know what I mean Zachary.”

“A-Are you talking about Chloe?” Just by saying her name, you could feel his words cut open that fresh wound open all over again. Tears welled in your eyes as you looked over at him, demanding he continue wordlessly.

“I really don’t know what that was about. I was talking to Clay and Alex about how we were on a break and the next thing I knew she had her arm around my waist and-”

“I really don’t need to hear anymore,” you cut him off, grabbing your things as you started making your way off the bleachers, “I hope you guys are happy together.”

“(Y/N)- Come back!” he called after you, as you stormed off the bleachers. He caught up when you were halfway across the field, grabbing your arm to get you to turn and face him. You rip out of his grip, turning to glare at him when he raised his hands in surrender.

“Like I said, Dempsey, leave me the fuck alone,” you told him coldly, meeting his gaze with a determination that surprised even you. “These hands may not have been sullied by Monty’s face, but I’m sure your face would do fine just the same.”

“(Y/N), Jesus, chill the fuck out,” Zach shot back, stepping away from you, “I don’t want to be with Chloe, I want to be with you. Why don’t you believe that?”

“You’ve been dodging my calls for the past two weeks and I’m not supposed to pick up on the fact you’ve been acting weird? I’m supposed to just smile and assume everything’s okay?”

“(Y/N), I’ve been busy!”

“Zach, you’re always busy, but somehow you were able to make time for me before. What changed now?” you demanded, securing your hands on your waist as you glared up at him.

“Well before, we weren’t all being called in because of a fucking murder investigation for one? Bryce is dead, (Y/N), and we’re all fucking suspects,” he reminded you.

“Okay? How does that explain why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“Jensen has been trying to figure out who did it, just like he always fucking does, and he’s enlisted my help and it’s just been a lot of talking with no real conclusions and I miss your calls and-”

“So now your game is to blame Clay?” you seethe, “Just fucking admit it Zachary, I told you I wanted a break, and you took that as a fucking free-for-all.”

“What are you talking about?” Zach asked, running his hands through his hair wildly. “Is something going on? Where is this coming from?”

“I thought everything was great and then you stopped texting me all the time like you used to, you stopped answering my calls and then I show up to school to find you all snuggled up with fucking Chloe Rice- I’m a little fucking pissed off,” you finish, letting out a huge breath, happy to finally have it all off of your chest.

“(Y/N), I need you to listen to me,” Zach murmured softly, grabbing your arm again, far more gentle than before, “I love you. The past couple months I’ve spent with you have been amazing. I’m sorry if I made you feel insecure, I didn’t mean to.” Tears poured down your cheeks as you force your way into his arms, relieved to finally hear words you hadn’t realized you’d been so desperate to hear.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you wept into his shirt, sniffling as you pull away to look up at him. “Th-there’s just been so much going on, everything with Bryce a-and Tyler-”

(Y/N), it’s okay. Trust me, I understand. I just need you to trust me. Trust what we have together, okay?”

“I’ve just been so messed up and I felt like I didn’t have anyone to turn to,” you murmur, pushing your way into his arms again, “I thought maybe if I asked you for a break you would notice something was up but you just seemed so happy to let me go and I guess it just broke my heart a little, I’m sorry, Zach, I’m so sorry,” you rambled.

“You don’t think that didn’t kill me inside?” he asked softly, running his fingers through your hair. “I thought Bryce was going to take everything away from me from beyond the grave,” he scoffed.

“I guess we better get back to class,” you remarked as the bell rang across campus. Taking Zach’s hand into yours, the two of you walked back into the school, earning you a sharp glare from Chloe.

“You never answered me, how’s your face?” Zach asked again, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at you.

“It fucking hurts, what do you think?” you grin up at him.

“You know if I have to kill Monty too we’ll just have to go through this all over again, right?” he lamented, sighing dramatically.

“W-Wait? TOO?”

[thehargrovewhore]

blue eyed boy | billy hargrove prompt #1

prompt:

"can i kiss you, please?" + "i'm so in love with you."

author's note:

this prompt is long, but it's really sweet y'all ❤

---

"get the fuck away from me, marcus! i hate you. you are a cheating, lying, and manipulative piece of shit." she spoke to the ignorant boy who was supposed to be hers. he was struggling to get his pants back on, his breathing ragged.

"baby, just listen to me-" marcus tried to plead, but it was not going to work this time around. she caught him in the act, literally, and now she was done with his shit for good.

deep down she knew that he wasn't sorry. nor did marcus regret what he just did with hawkins biggest slut, brenda.

with tears streaming down her face, she reared her hand back and slapped that stupid smirk right off his face. her palm burned, but she didn't care in the least. with that, it was time for her to go home and be depressed.

turning around on her heel and walking out of the room, she went downstairs and began to search for her friend, billy hargrove, who was probably drunk as a skunk right now. but he was the only one who could make her feel a little bit better about herself in this moment.

and to think that she turned down the hottest boy to step foot in this shithole town, for that douchebag upstairs. he decimated her heart.. and the fault was her own. she took a chance on him, only to get burned in the end.

she could of been with billy right now. she could of been with someone who genuinely cares about her.. who goes out of their way to make sure she's happy, who would do anything in the world for her. and she passed that up like the complete moron that she tends to be on occasion.

was he the best guy in the world? not in the least. but.. he was real. he was unapologetically himself at all times. and billy took care of her like she was already his girlfriend. he was an asshole to the world, but never to her.

the day she told billy hargrove that they would be better as friends, was the biggest mistake of her entire life. she wants more than anything to take back what she said to him that day in her bedroom, when he asked her out.

it took her being cheated on, to finally make her realize, that william calvin hargrove owns her heart completely.

locating him in the crowd, she drifted towards him with a set of fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. billy was in the middle of dirty dancing with some girl from history class.

but, when billy saw his number one girl, standing there in a mess of fresh tears, he completely stopped. he was just about ready to kick some serious ass, wanting to find out what that marcus fucker did to make her cry this time.

billy pushed the drunken girl aside; not paying attention to her sloppy whines of protest. his focus was on his girl, who looked as if she has just been mortified by what she found in the upstairs bedroom.

pulling her flush against his chest with purpose, she let a few more broken sobs slip out into his leather jacket. she wrapped her arms around his muscular waist, taking in a scent of armani cologne and cigarette smoke.

"what happened, babe?" he asked gently, eyes containing nothing but genuine concern for her. "marcus. i found out he's been sleeping with brenda higgins on the side." she is now sniffling into his jacket, and his grip on her tightened protectively.

thinking back, even billy has had a couple nights with her, because she's the easiest girl in town.

"where is that motherfucker?" billy growled angrily, those deep blue eyes intensely trained on the staircase, waiting for marcus to be an actual man and show his face.

as if an act of god was answering his deviant prayer, billy saw marcus and brenda coming down the stairs, looking disheveled and sweaty.

"please, don't do anything." she hiccuped into his jacket, not wanting a fight to break out. but she knew billy well, and she knew that he was not going to let this slide.

he was seeing absolute red. it's one thing to cheat but it's another thing to cheat on his precious y/n. the girl whose smile lights up the entire room. the girl whose hair smells like strawberries, a smell that billy absolutely adores.

the girl who has stood by him through the good and bad, no matter what he's said or done in front of her. how was he supposed to pretend that this was okay and just leave without teaching marcus a proper lesson?

billy leaned down and placed a small kiss on her forehead before telling her to stay put, that he would take care of a douchebag like marcus, who thinks that it's okay to break the heart of his best girl.

she is his everything, whether she knows that or not. billy would happily fight anyone who dared to cross her.

she tried to grab for his arm but it was too late, he was on a personal mission to destroy marcus hudson's face. from this night on, everyone would know, who her protector is.

in three long strides, he reached the clueless asshole who was sipping on a bloody mary.. like a little bitch. without a word exchanged between them billy sent a furious punch to marcus's nose; a crack echoing throughout the room.

marcus clutched his nose and howled in pain, before billy grabbed the collar of his shirt and slammed him down on the ground. marcus tried to fight back.. but clearly wasn't in the position to do so, against the infamous hargrove.

the whistle of punches landing on marcus's face ontop of billy's rage induced grunts echoed in the lounge room. he wasn't going to stop anytime soon, because he was livid.

billy couldn't protect himself at home, but he can protect the love of his life from greaseballs like marcus hudson.

"william! stop it, please stop it! that's enough! please! let's just go back to my house." she pleaded, noticing that billy was going to beat marcus into unconsciousness. her soft, gentle voice was the only thing keeping him grounded.

in a split second, billy was standing up, staring down at a heap of misery on the floor, previously known as marcus.

billy's teeth were bared, his jaw is clenched, while his tan knuckles were split and bleeding from the hard punches.

"if you step foot anywhere near her again, i'll make myself a new necklace out of your fucking teeth." billy seethed.

it was terrifying, to say the least, nobody has seen billy so enraged before. marcus nodded pathetically, his whimper of the word yes could barely be heard, but billy caught it.

without another glance at the people around them with a look of pure shock on their faces, he grabbed her hand as the sound of harsh whispers began to flood her senses.

billy led her out of the party and into the night, searching for his precious camaro among the sea of cars. she could not let their night end like this, so she grabbed his face in her small hands, cupping his cheeks gently.

she wasn't mad at him. she knew he has anger issues and when it came to her, there isn't much that he wouldn't do.

she loved that about him. if somebody even looked at her the wrong way, billy was hot on their heels.

that was his way of conveying his emotions. he was born and raised into violence.. it was instilled in him. but, there wasn't anything about him that they couldn't work on. he was a sweetie deep down, and she would bring that out.

he flinched away, but soon relaxed, leaning into her touch while she placed a small kiss on his warm cheek. billy isn't used to this sort of compassion but he was addicted to it.

"you didn't have to do that, billy." she whispered, noticing the tiny kiss that he placed on the palm of her hand. with a sigh of contention, he pulled away from her soft touch.

this was it. he was going to confess his feelings, and hope that she wouldn't laugh in his face.

"i would do anything for you. anything in the world. i can't stop thinking about you, you're always in my head.. i'm so in love with you." billy confessed, looking away from her.

the gears were turning in her head, she was so overcome with love and adoration, she couldn't even speak. he was hers. this beautiful, messy, loud and irrational boy is hers.

billy was about to walk away, not wanting to hear her say that she didn't feel the same way, but he was attacked. in a huge hug, to be exact, her giggles sounding in the air.

he smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist, taking this as an answer in itself. he understood if she wasnt yet ready to pursue another relationship after what occurred.

but, when she pulled back slightly and looked at him like he was the only thing in the world that matters, his heart stopped in his chest.

"can i kiss you, please?" she asked lightly, staring at those plump lips, wanting to decorate them with her cherry red lip gloss.

what a ridiculous question that was.. he has wanted to do nothing but kiss her since the moment he laid eyes on her in gym class, where she was practicing with her volleyball team.

the response she got was a deep kiss that could rival one of the most romantic movies to date, it was beautiful.

it felt like pure fire as he lifted her up in his arms.. her legs around his lean waist, their soft lips clashing together in a perfect harmony.

her fingers were threaded into his soft hair, pulling at the golden locks, making him groan lowly. with that, she had slipped her tongue into his mouth, revelling in the feeling.

she pulled away, her breathing ragged and lips swollen. it was perfect, everything is perfect, and billy is beyond the point of perfection. he is simply exquisite. sometimes she can hardly believe that he's a real human being.

she vowed at a party in the middle of the night that she would spend the rest of her life wrapped up in his arms.

"i love you too, my blue eyed boy."

[lovelykhaleesiii]

I understand... (Part 4)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader

Words: 1219

Summary: You’re the daughter of Tony Stark, and after meeting the Avengers for the first time, you begin to fall for the one who your father despises most...Bucky Barnes.

Warning: Fluff, romantic Bucky, story takes place after Civil War, but the Avengers remain intact all of them reside in the Avengers Tower, but Tony still holds a grudge against Bucky, especially, angry!Tony, a little swearing.

Sorry if the dialogue is shit, working on it 😩

Tags:

@fandom--0verdose

@m4shtyx

@impalatobakerstreet

__________________________________________________

You had awoken up smiling, pure joy escaping your face. You’d figured the events of last night were out of the blue, but were inevitable. You thought long and hard, since your dad was a no show to check up on you. You thought about the risks you were taking by committing yourself to Bucky & him to you, and you had considered your father’s potential reaction if he ever found out. But you had prepared yourself, in the end Tony always wanted what was best for you, why should that change ?

Making your way to the kitchen for breakfast, you arrived to see everyone sitting in their little groups apart from each other. You’d scanned the room and immediately found Bucky sitting by Steve, Thor and Sam. You found him already staring at you, with a small smile growing on his face, giving you a swift wink making you smirk. Thankfully your quick instinct told you to look away, for your dad today was present. You knew that he had been awaiting for you to join, seeing as he had already prepared a small meal for the both of you at the counter.

“You still mad at me?” You utter, as you made your way towards him, standing opposite of him, as he read the newspaper.

“Maybe... Frankly, I’m just a little shocked, and disappointed.” He retorted, taking a quick glance at you before he continued to read on.

“Dad, it was seriously nothing” you lied, attempting to lower your voice that only Tony could hear exclusively... “We got comfortable I will admit, but nothing more. You shouldn’t hold a grudge anyways... Bucky’s a friend, and a good one too. You need to accept that -“

“Don’t you dare give me a pep talk about him! Don’t you dare! I’ve seen what his done, and its fucked up Y/n... I don’t want you part of this.” Tony yelled. He had dropped the newspaper and slammed his free hand onto the counter. You were take aback. You’re father never retaliated against you like this before, mainly because you had always done as you were told with him. You were infuriated. You knew convincing him about Bucky was more difficult than expected, but you weren’t going to give up... For Bucky’s sake.

“Are you kidding me? You’re going off at me, telling me you don’t want me part of something because of a little grudge you’re holding?” You shouted, attempting to suppress your anger had also proven difficult.

Your father sighed, looking down at the counter realising what he’d done. He’d quickly looked up and directed his eyes towards Bucky’s direction.

“I need to cool off...” he exclaimed, leaving the scene without another word.

Before you could even comprehend what had just happened, Natasha placed her arm gently onto your shoulder asking “Is everything alright?”

You had completely forgotten that the Avengers just witnessed the argument. You felt completely embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry you guys had to witness that. I’m hoping it won’t happen again.” You utter, looking completely guilty.

“It’s fine... But who’s Tony talking about?” Bruce questions you, a curious look on his face.

You couldn’t look at Bucky... You’d both made your promises not to mention this relationship, but you couldn’t just give Bruce “no-reply.” Before you could answer, Bucky immediately intervened.

“It’s me... I’m the guy Tony’s mad about.”

Looking from Bucky to the rest of the Avengers, many were surprised by this new romance.

“The other day, Y/n and I were watching a film and things kind of escalated. Tony found us and of course, he enraged... Y/n and I want to see each other, but unsurprisingly Tony disproves this so he doesn’t know that we are in fact seeing each other... We want to keep it that way, until we find a way to convince him.” Bucky exclaims. You could see that the burden of secrecy fell off of his broad shoulders, just as his revelation did on your behalf...But would the group also be willing to uphold their end of the bargain?

“I know I’ve only just met you guys, but I know how you all are...You’re heroes & from what I know heroes help those in need and protect those in need. Right now, Bucky and I could do with those? I beg, just please don’t tell Tony anything before us...He needs to hear it from us.” You add, whilst making your way over to Bucky, who wraps his bionic arm around you. You observe each of them individually and see that they all are aware of Tony’s ‘grudge’ against Bucky and how exhausted they were of it. Everyone had gotten along well with Bucky, except for Tony, and that was agitating for your behalf. The one person who you loved most, the one person you most wanted their acceptance of was the one person who couldn’t stand the site of you two together, even as friends.

“Please” you whimper.

It seemed as though they all had come to an agreement mentally, as Natasha spoke on behalf of the group “You have our word. We’ll help if we can, but for the love of God... Tell Tony before he figures something’s up and discovers the truth himself.”

You nod and agree excitedly, both you and Bucky exhale as if you’d both held your final breaths.

“Well then if we’ve gotten that out of the way... Congrats to the new couple of the tower!” Natasha cheers, sincerely smiling at the two of your holding hands.

“Hope the trouble’s worth it.” Sam sarcastically retorts from behind. You being busy being congratulated by Wanda, Bruce and Vision, were unaware though Bucky met his comment with an unforgiving glare.

Soon enough Steve made his way towards you two as well, hugging his best friend, relieved that his friend had finally found someone to love again.

“Make sure you kids stay out of trouble... I’ll try to convince Tony as much as I can, Buck like I always have.”

“Can’t promise anything, but we’ll try” Bucky laughs, giving you a playful wink. “But thanks Steve, we appreciate your help, as always.” Bucky smiles, as he grabs the side of Steve’s arm as a reassuring gesture.

“Well you guys need to make it official, give us some proof that there is something between you two. I say... Give us a kiss!” Clint jokingly shouts. Soon enough all the other Avengers begin to egg on Bucky to make the first move, though before he does so Natasha intervenes “Wait! Now before you guys have a make out session - F.R.I.D.A.Y is Tony on premises?” She questioned, wanting to make sure another fallout was avoided.

“Miss Romanoff, Mr Stark left the premises exactly 10 mins ago for a quick trip to Stark Industries. Is this all the information you’ll be needing?”

“That will be all” she remarks, continuing to reignite the cheers.

A complete yet genuine smile appearing on your face, as you turn towards Bucky, his bionic arm around your waist, you stretch up as he leans down to give you a quick yet passionate kiss. It felt right... You felt complete with Bucky and at this point you could have cared less about your father’s expectations of you. It was time Tony had changed for you.

[ourlittlesecretokay]

3, 7, 8 (I love these btw)

Thank you!! I combined the last two, because I have executive control and a power complex

The way you said “I love you” with a scream

The way you said “I love you” as a thank you

The way you said “I love you” as an apology

“I don’t see why you care so much!”

“I don’t care!” She punctuated the statement by a shove, knocking him back a step.

“Fine, if you want to be a child about it, that’s fine.” He waved the papers in the air, equal parts exasperated and exhausted. “Pardon me for, oh, I don’t know, caring about your opinion!”

“I don’t see why you would bother! I don’t care!”

“Evidently!” But then she was slamming the kitchen door in his face, and even if he wanted to, he couldn’t let it drop.

“No!” storming in, he let the door bang open, “You do NOT slam doors in my face!”

“Since when?” Turning to face him, she stood stiff, her arms crossed. Didn’t he have sense enough to leave her alone?

“I told you I’d take it out if it bothers you so much!”

“I’m not bothered!”

“You are LITERALLY only hurting yourself here!”

“What, are you offended I’m not more jealous?”

“Jealous? We’ve moved past jealous into enraged. Jealous would be much more reasonable! I could work with jealous!”

“Well I’m not! You do whatever the hell you want!”

“Oh my g- It’s just a script!”

“A script which YOU wrote.”

“No, not me, i-”

“Sorry, not you, whatever fucking alias you’re using for this one!”

“Language.” The corners of his mouth turned down, still finding the time to reprimand her. “I asked if it was going to be an issue, and if it’s not-”

“It isn’t! I genuinely do not see why you would possibly think I’d have an issue with it.”

“Well now you’re just overdoing it. Seriously? It’s just a play. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course it doesn’t! God, you’re so stupid!”

“Fine, you know what? I’m keeping it in. If you’re so OBVIOUSLY unperturbed by it, then it won’t be a problem!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

They stood in silence, neither one looking at the other.

“It’s shitty writing anyway,” she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

“EXCUSE me?”

“I said, it’s shitty writing! You’re a bad writer!” Her finger jabbed at his chest. He scowled, irritated beyond belief.

“Oh, because you could do so much better?”

“I could! Who even talks like that? God, if the audience isn’t already nauseous from watching you makeout with someone on stage, this dialogue will put them under for sure!”

“That-” he gestured with his finger, trying to keep his anger coherent, “is uncalled for!”

“Oh, and I’m the oversensitive one? You’re the one throwing a hissy fit over an honest critique!”

“You’re not being honest nor fair!”

“What can I say, maybe you’re a bad influence after all.”

“Look,” he held his hands out in surrender, “I’ll take it out. All you have to do is say you want me to.”

“I! Don’t! Care! I’m just trying to keep you from embarrassing yourself. It sounds like you’ve never met a woman in your life! I mean, honestly,” snatching the papers from his hand, she began to read aloud, “‘Now that I know you exist, how could I ever survive without you?’ What the hell is that? No self-respecting woman would ever say that!”

“Maybe they would, if they weren’t so impossibly callous.”

“Callous!”

He shrugged, “I’m only speaking hypothetically. If you choose to take offense to that-”

“Okay, then what about this,” she jabbed at the paper irately, “explain just what the hell this is supposed to be.”

“It’s a love scene.”

“It’s something, alright. ‘You tremble beneath my hand like a shivering mollusk?’ Honestly, who talks like that?”

“Don’t be mad simply because you don’t have the soul of a poet!”

“Oh my god,” she shook her head. “If you’re gonna exploit loopholes in our marriage, at least have the dignity to do it right!”

“It’s a play, it doesn’t mean anything!”

“But you wrote it!” She slammed the script down on the counter, “You sat up all night and imagined how it would feel to sleep with another woman, wrote it down, terribly, I might add, and plan on sharing it with everyone while I sit there trying very hard not to look like an idiot while you make out with some lady on stage!”

“So it DOES bother you?”

“Yes it bothers me!” She lifted her hands up, exasperated, “It bothers me so damn much! It bothers me that you are so much more concerned with how things look for you that I can go to hell so long as I make you look good while doing it!”

“It’s not that deep-”

“No, it’s not! That’s the problem. You’re so fucking vain, anything beyond an inch of depth puts you out of your league. You want to kiss women on stage? Fucking whatever. Just write something better than a Shakespearean porno opening.”

“You think it sounds like Shakespeare?”

“I think that you’re an incomprehensible idiot!”

“Watch it!”

“No, it’s okay, I’m a fucking idiot too! I should have known better than to love a man who’s more in love with his ego than me.” She slammed the papers against his chest. Catching them in his hands, he looked at her quietly. She took a shattering breath in, gritting her teeth. Feeling rather awkward, he cleared his throat.

“Do you really think I wrote a play just to cheat on you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” she shrugged, not meeting his eyes, “I’ve never pretended to understand you.”

“No offense, but if I wanted to cheat on you, I would just do it. Do you think writing plays is easier than just kissing someone?”

“With dialogue like that? Yes.”

“That’s cruel.”

“It’s true.”

Stepping forward, he caught her face between his hands, brushing her hair back, “You’re impossible, you know.”

“Hey, I-”

“No, it’s okay. I like my women difficult.”

“Not the line to use right now.”

He laughed, amused at her irritation. “Do you really think I would be so unkind?”

“Yes.”

“Poor Violet, so mistreated by her unkind husband.” Still smiling, he kissed her forehead. “It would be poetic though, wouldn’t it? Using theater both to catch and leave you?”

She scoffed, “Maybe you should write a play about that instead.”

“Maybe.” He paused, quiet. “I can’t believe you think my play is bad.”

“Well, it’s not IRREDEEMABLE, persay. It’s just… not good.”

“You wound me, Countess.”

“You deserved it.”

“Perhaps I did.” Amused, he kissed her lips. “Although, in the future, may I recommend just admitting your infatuations? It would save us both a lot of time.”

“Infatuation might be too strong a word.”

“Obsession? Adoration? Passion?”

“You’re pushing your luck.”

“Let’s see how far it takes me then.” Smiling, he kissed her again, leaving the script forgotten behind in the light of her favor.

The way you said “I love you” as a thank you

The way you said “I love you” as an apology

“I’m FINE.”

“Nope,” she pushed at his back, trying to steer him back upstairs, “you most certainly are not.”

“I don’t see what you’re so upset about. It’s not-” his protest was interrupted with a hacking cough.

“It absolutely is, and I will not have you germing up my nice clean house.”

“I’m not even sick.”

“Then you won’t mind taking a day off anyway.”

“I’m not-” but then she was shoving him into the bedroom, a woman determined, and he knew there was no point in arguing. “Fine. If you want to do all the work yourself, be my guest.”

“Sounds good. Now please, try to get some sleep.”

“If anything at all happens, you come and get me.”

“What’s going to happen? I swear, you’re so paranoid.” Tugging off his jacket, she pushed him towards the bed.

“Will you at least bring me food? I might as well get something out of this.”

“Sure. Just, please. Stay put.”

“If you insist,” he clicked his tongue, more amused than annoyed.

She didn’t become worried until it became two hours since she’d last heard from him. Usually his silence indicated some sort of nefarious plot, and now she was worried he had actually managed to sneak out. However, when she came up, food in hand, she found him pale and sweating in a shallow sleep. He awoke when she carefully set the mug on the table beside him.

“Violet,” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying.” Lightly, she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “You have a fever, but you’re not dying.”

“I’ve been poisoned.”

“You’ve not been poisoned.”

“After everything, this is how it ends.”

“Okay, actor man.” She handed him a glass of water, “Here, drink this.”

“And so I go,” he closed his eyes, his voice low and hoarse. “Not with a bang but a whimper.”

“Alright. I’ll go pick up some cough medicine. Try to drink that entire glass by the time I’m back. Do you want anything else?”

“Whiskey.”

“Not whiskey.”

“You can’t refuse a dying man his last wish.”

Not bothering to respond, she opened the window, letting in some fresh air, “If you’re up to it, take a cold shower. It’ll make you feel better.”

“You’re a terrible nurse.”

“Something tells me you’re an even worse patient.”

“I crave the release of death.”

“Okay, I’ll be back.” She patted his head placatingly, shutting the door quiet behind her.

He could not remember the last time he had been so horribly inconvenienced. He was a busy man; he didn’t have time to get sick. Quarantined to his own sweaty solitude, the minutes ticked into hours. Eternities flew by, dizzy and achy timeless expanses. He didn’t know it was possible for your very bones to ache.

It had finally caught up with him; every single terrible thing he had ever done ever, and now he was paying the price. Damn her for leaving him in this state. It was as if she didn’t even care. Maybe he would die, just to show her. Then she’d be sorry. His revenge fantasy easily turned over to a daydream about her as a more sympathetic nurse, crying over his lowly state, stroking his face and remarking upon how very very brave he was. He closed his eyes, the pressure in his head pounding against his skull.

When he opened them again, the light had moved across the walls. It took him a moment to realize he had been sleeping, for all the good it had done him; he was just as tired and groggy as before. Looking over, he saw her placing some more things on his bedside table.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. How are you feeling?”

He shrugged feebly, forcing out a weak cough.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’ve fended off death thus far. Here, sit up,” pulling at his shoulder, she managed to get him somewhat less horizontal. “Take this.”

“What is it?”

“It’ll bring your fever down.” She dropped a white pill into his hand.

“I’d much prefer a cyanide capsule.”

“I’m sure you would.” Handing him the glass of water, she stared at him until he successfully swallowed it. “And let me get this, you’ve sweat clean through it.” She tugged at his shirt, snapping the buttons open and pulling it over his shoulders. Grateful for the cool air, he lay back down, exhausted and dizzy but mostly embarrassed at being so entirely undone.  

“I’m not helpless, you know.”

“I’m aware.”

“I’m still a lethal force.”

“Of course.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I know.”

He almost felt bad for being so irritable, but it was utterly beyond his control. His own body was conspiring against him. He heard her move a few more things around and then she cleared her throat quietly, touching his arm lightly.

“Alright then. If you need anything-”

“Wait,” he caught her wrist, holding her beside him. “Can you stay?”

There was a moment’s pause before she responded. “Sure.” The mattress sank beside him as she perched on the edge, stroking her fingers over his hair, “Should I just be quiet, or?”

“No, keep talking.” His voice was more mutter than speech. “It’s nice.”

“Do you want me to read to you? I mean, I can, if you want.”

“That depends. Do you have anything good?”

“I absolutely do.” He heard her shuffling things around once more and then, settling gently, she began to read aloud, her free hand still stroking his hair, “Miss Adela Strangeworth stepped daintily along Main Street on her way to the grocery. The sun was shining, the air was fresh and clear after the night’s heavy rain-”

“Wait, wait,” he stopped her, “are you sure this is good? Because it sounds like it’s gearing up to be absolutely awful.”

“Trust me,” he could hear the smile in her voice, “it’s good.”

“Alright. But if it’s boring, that’s on you.”

“A risk I’m willing to take.” Clearing her throat, she began again where she had left off. “Let’s see… The air was fresh and clear after the night’s heavy rain, and everything in Miss Strangeworth’s little town looked washed and bright.”

“Violet?”

She sighed, “It won’t get any better if you don’t let me get anywhere.”

“No, it’s not that. I just… love you, is all.”

Smiling, she stroked his forehead, brushing his hair back. “Feeling guilty about yelling at me?”

“Somewhat. But mostly I just thought you should know, since this is the end and all.”

“Oh, of course. Should I continue?”

“Please.” Closing his eyes again, he let her carry on.

It was well into the night by the time he awoke next. She was still beside him, her finger tucked between the pages of the book where she had left off. The silly girl had fallen asleep in her clothes. Quiet as he could manage, he sat up, pulling her shoes off for her. She stirred, groaning awake.

“What time is it?”

“Late.”

Rubbing at her eyes, she sighed, “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty terrible. I’ll survive, though.”

“Glad to hear it. God, why is it so hot in here?”

Smirking, he reclined again, pressing a kiss to her forehead before pausing, pulling back ever so slightly, “Violet?”

“Yes?”

“You might want these,” reaching over her, he guiltily handed her the bottle of pills.

She sighed, “Perfect.”

“I love you.”

“I know, I know.”

He kissed her forehead again, her flushed skin hot beneath his lips, “Anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Here,” smirking, she handed him the book, settling against his shoulder, “you can take a turn.”

“Fair enough.” Leaning his cheek against the top of her head, he waited for her settle, and then as softly as he could manage, he picked up right where they had left off.

[bryanjfc-blog]

strike two || bryan & asher

the one where asher goes to see bryan after he gets punched in the face and things are said

when: 29th august 2017

where: bryan’s place

warnings: sad things are said

Asher: Asher heard about the fight. Asher was enraged that there was a fight. He never expected his husband and ex-boyfriend to get along, never once thought that'd ever happen, but he also never thought it'd escalate into this. And it's not like Brad's violent to begin with; Bryan must've said something really fucked up to get Brad to punch him. It was rainy that day, and Asher flipped down his hood as he approached Bryan's apartment. Some would probably say that he should check on his husband first, but Asher was a little pissed off at him for swinging first, so. He knocked on Bryan's door, biting on his lower lip as he waited. When the door opened, he started off by referencing, "and now, here we are, six years later, in the same position we were before," but never got to add in the with Aiden part because he saw the damage done to Bryan's face. "Oh shit..."

Bryan frowned at the mention of his fight with Aiden. At least at that time, Asher was his. Yeah, Brad had hit him pretty hard, and maybe he kind of deserved it but nevertheless, Asher was here and not with Brad and that made it a tiny bit worth the punch to his face. "Ah, hi." Bryan stepped aside, allowing Asher to walk in. "I have to say though, you've got yourself a pretty strong bodyguard... don't think anyone's gonna wanna mess with you."

Asher couldn't help but chuckle at that. Especially since now was really not the right situation for laughter, but. It was the best medicine, wasn't it? "I'm sure people think you're my bodyguard every time we go out together, what with how scary and strong and big you are," he said, entering Bryan's apartment and taking off his shoes and coat. "Sit. I'll be there soon. You know the process." Asher left for Bryan's kitchen, taking out a handful of ice from the freezer and putting it into a plastic bag. He sat next to Bryan on the couch, pressing the compress onto the bruised part of his face. "So. Tell me what happened. And I want details. Don't try and leave anything out. This is serious, y'know? I mean. My husband just punched my ex-boyfriend. I want to know what happened."

Bryan sighed, watching as Asher disappeared into the kitchen. It was highly irritating being around him. Strange how Bryan did everything right by Asher and still didn't end up with him. A wince appeared on Bryan's face when Asher placed the plastic bag with ice against the bruise, and Bryan shifted a little so he could be more comfortable. "It was nothing. I said something to him, and he hit me. The man's got a bad temper, honestly. I mean, punching people for talking? Kind of extreme." Bryan winced again, putting his hand against Asher's that held the ice bag to his face. "Then again, I'd probably hit me for the things I said."

Asher rolled his eyes. "I've known you for six years, pal, I can see through your bullshit. C'mon. Tell me what actually happened. Word for word. Because you've said some pretty fucked up stuff to Brad before, not gonna' lie, and he's never punched you before until now, so obviously you must have said something really bad." Asher paused, watching as Bryan placed his hand over his. This was not okay. He was married. And while Asher never once thought about straying out of his relationship with Brad to be with Bryan, this was still sort of bad, wasn't it? But. Nothing was going to happen between them, Bryan knew where Asher stood, and if he moved his hand, the ice pack would probably fall. So. "I won't get mad at you, y'know, if you tell me what happened and what you said," Asher told Bryan earnestly, "I honestly won't, I promise. I just want to know what happened. I deserve to know, don't you think?"

Bryan let out a sigh. "I --" He pursed his lips, and although his hand was growing a little tired, he kept it against Asher's a little while longer. "I just .. said something about him sleeping alone while his husband was out with his ex-boyfriend." Among other things. But that's the line that obviously pissed Brad off the most. Shrugging, Bryan dropped his hand. "Sure if you deserve to know I'm sure Brad would tell you when you ask him."

Asher Bryan had already moved his hand, so Asher didn't have to do it himself, because hearing that did not make him happy. But. He promised not to get mad, so Asher tried to stay reasonably annoyed. "Why would you say something like that?" He asked, keeping his tone leveled and easy as he got up to refill the bag with ice. "I mean. Why are you even so – upset with Brad all the time? If anything, you should be upset with me. Hate me, even." Asher returned, placing the ice back on Bryan's bruise. The swelling was going down slightly. "I'm the one who cheated on you," he continued, voice quieter now that the topic had gotten into a sensitive zone, "I'm the one who's the awful person. But for some reason you don't hate me, even after that awful thing I did. Which. I know I always apologize for this but I really am genuinely sorry. You're an amazing guy and you were the best boyfriend ever. You didn't deserve what I did to you, and I'll always regret it." Asher looked away and cleared his throat. He hated talking about this because it made him feel so bad. "Is that why you're so mean to Brad? Because since you're not mean to me, you have to direct it to someone else? Or is it something else. You can tell me, y'know."

Bryan sighed rather loudly. Asher and his stupid ability to figure things out. "Because ... I'm an asshole. S'kind of well known that I am. I'm surprised you're surprised I said something like that." Bryan sighed again, using his hand to rub at the back of his neck. He wasn't in the mood for this conversation. "Because I can't hate you, or be mad at you, Asher. Honestly ..." Obviously. Shrugging, Bryan didn't know what else he could say. "I don't know ... I just ... thought ...." Bryan chewed at his lip, not wanting to finish what he'd thought of saying.

Asher moved a piece of hair that had fallen in front of Bryan's face as he took a moment to consider what he ought to say next. "Well. While I do think you definitely should hate me rather than Brad, I'm happy you don't. I like being around you, you're fun when you're not getting punched," he shrugged easily. Bryan was honestly a good friend, Asher's best friend, even. He couldn't imagine not having him in his life. Asher looked at Bryan curiously when he left his sentence open. "You thought what?"

Bryan If Bryan didn't have a slight headache, he would have moved away from Asher's outstretched hand. The sigh that left his lips was loud and strained and he thought about answering Asher's question honestly. And he did. "I thought ... we were good together, you know? You were good for me. You made me want to be a better person, a better man. I had convinced myself that you were it for me. And ... I thought ... even though you'd cheated with Brad I thought that you'd come back to me. But you didn't ... "

Asher: Oh. Asher – Asher was not expecting that. His hand lowered, and he looked at Bryan, eyes a little wide, a little unsure, a little scared. Fuck. Asher had been carrying the guilt of what he did to Bryan around for six years, but it had not felt this heavy in a long time. He swallowed thickly, eyes dropping to the couch cushions instead of meeting Bryan's. "Believe me when I say that I used to sit at the desks in my chem labs and write 'A.K. + B.J. Forever' on the corner of my notebooks. I really did like being with you. You were only my second relationship ever, but. I was already thinking about our future, about how excited Phoebe and Diana would be if they found out they'd be each other's sisters one day, but. Then I – the thing happened, and. Still, to this day, I don't know why I did it... I can't – think of a reason why. And. I – I didn't think I deserved you, after that. I mean. What I did was so, so bad and. I thought if I stayed with you, that it'd... hang over our relationship. That, y'know, there'd always be this fault in us, this major incident that could never be taken back. I was pretty sure you'd never trust me again, after that. So I just. I wanted to stay with you, but I didn't think I could o-or that I was allowed to anymore, if that makes sense." He flickered his eyes up to Bryan's, hoping he understood how Asher felt that night when he went to Bryan's dorm, words unintelligible between tears as he admitted what he had done. "I really did love you, y'know," he concluded softly, "I never said it, mostly because I never realized it back then, but. I loved you."

Bryan Wow. Wow. Bryan scoffed quietly, shaking his head. He shifted so he could move away from being so close to the man. He'd be completely okay if he left now ... and didn't come back. "So you just ... decided to end things? You thought I wouldn't want to be with you anymore? You thought .. I'd .... hold that against you? You didn't know me at all then, did you, Asher?" Sighing, Bryan leaned his head against the back of the couch. "It doesn't matter if you love me, Asher. It honestly does not matter. Not anymore. I'm sure Brad's waiting for you. You should go."

Asher If Bryan listened closely, he'd be able to hear the sound of Asher's heart breaking. Did he say something wrong? Should he have cut some parts out? Maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all. "O-oh. Um. Alright..." He didn't see the point of trying to defend himself; they were too broken and sad for that. He handed Bryan the ice pack, unsure of what just happened and how he managed to ruin them again. "I'll, um. I'll see you around, maybe?" He didn't know anymore. Where did they even stand? He's used to showing up at Bryan's place on a whim and seeing if he wants to get a burger with him, stuff like that. But now? It seemed like Bryan wanted nothing to do with him anymore. So Asher stood up, and he opened his mouth to say something, one last thing, but closed it soon after. Bryan didn't want to hear it, probably. "Bye..." He gave him a pathetic excuse for a wave before heading towards the door, closing it shut behind him softly.

[snapshotsofateenagersigh]

XCVII.

Have you met someone whose entire life was a lie? Who tells stories so fantastical, but with such skill and gradual pacing that you can't help but believe them? Who you think you know extremely well - but it turns out you don't, at all?

I met someone like that. 

Remember the "pure" friend I mentioned a couple of chapters ago? Well it turns out that she's anything but pure - the image she projected was an amalgamation of finely crafted masks and deception. I should know by now that most human beings are prone to anger and hatred, and to be suspicious of anyone who denies such feelings, but I don't know how or why I let this particular person slip under my radar. Maybe because she mastered the art of lying about experiences so atrocious that you feel the guilt seep into your being the very second a seed of growth springs to mind.

But let's start from the beginning. How I met her, and the stories she began to tell me, over the space of a year. 

I started getting close to her when I was in a rough patch with my boyfriend - we were having a hard time adjusting to University. I told her of this, and she shared some of her own experiences with me - how she'd been in a toxic relationship with someone who drank excessively and did drugs, so much so that she'd been to A&E with him multiple times. When he was drunk, he'd yell profanities at her, and once he was so high, that he even held a knife to her throat... and this is when she knew to break up with him.

I asked her to show me a picture of her ex, and she did - after which she made me block him, saying that he has an app to check who views his instagram, and that she doesn't want this to trace back to her. At the time, it seemed legit.

We started talking more and more, and she shared stories of her current boyfriend - with whom she was also in a rough patch with. The long distance was difficult, and there was also another girl in the picture. I heard a lot of stories about how he was a jerk, and eventually I was supportive of them breaking up. When they got back together, however, I was unsurprised; it seemed like she had a hard time letting someone go. 

This went on and on, with her expecting me to get mad every time he did something dickish, and with me disliking her current boyfriend more and more. 

At the same time though, there was drama with her family - she told me that she was in the process of getting estranged: her grandfather sexually harassed her as a child, which caused her to speak up to the authorities about it; her mother hated her for ruining her own father's reputation, and consequently her own family started mistreating her (even though they were apparently there in the room as the misconduct of her grandfather was occurring); due to this she had to go to a woman's refuge; and once she got out of the woman's refuge, she took a gap year to volunteer around the world - this was all paid by her father. 

The cherry on top is that she prays for everyone that's ever hurt her and wishes them the best. She only wants to get on with her own life. 

And voila, I present to you the perfect Mary Sue. 

I'm sure there are other details I've missed out - the lies are pretty intricate - and how do I know that they're lies you ask? Surely no one can make up something so horrible. Boy - have I got news for you.

So due to our different approaches, we have gotten into multiple fights. But the last fight was pretty ridiculous: we were together in the kitchen with another one of our flatmates, just discussing different topics. I'm not sure how, but the subject of her ex came up - how he was an example of someone who had a good childhood with parents that were never together. Both me and the other flatmate argued that no, having been brought up without a loving mother and father is bound to cause issues, and this caused her to storm off in a huff, offended. She came back in after five minutes to explain how dare we think that we know him better than she does (as I've mentioned, she's bitched about him many many times about him, has even claimed that he's lied to her in the past) and that he's her friend, not ours. Both of us apologised right there, not wanting to argue over something so trivial. I guess the apology wasn't good enough, because she invited the other flatmate into her room to "talk" and I could hear her screaming through the door about how our apologies weren't genuine, we weren't actually sorry, and that she didn't want to speak to either of us.

To be honest, I was baffled by the whole thing. I didn't want to argue about something so nonsensical, so I made it my mission to apologise as soon as possible. Unfortunately, I wasn't present the next day, so I had to hold off my apology until the day after.

She refused to talk to me the day after. I had to barge into a conversation she was having with the aforementioned flatmate (who she had already forgiven, I guess) and she wouldn't look at me the entire time I apologised. I had already gotten the apology chocolates to go with it, all her favourites, but she refused to accept them. I left them in her cupboard anyway because I don't even like chocolates, but I don't even know whether she ate them. 

After a few days of ignoring me, it seemed like she wanted to get back to normal. Unfortunately for her, I was not ready to go back to normal, as I thought her childish behaviour of ignoring me for days was unacceptable, and it wasn't helped by the fact that she woke me up at 3 am to call me to ask whether I knew what her favourite colour was (apparently she was having an argument with another friend who didn't know) - before an exam. If you want to know the honest truth, I also really couldn't be bothered to deal with something like this during exam season, so I decided to put it on hold until it was all over.

She didn't like that. In fact, she was enraged by me ignoring her, even though she hadn't talked to me since she ignored me through my apology. She would send me passive-aggressive texts, and eventually she decided that we needed to talk. I asked her "what about?" and when I came home, I was privy to a rant to the original flatmate that she didn't know I was there for. In this rant, she exposed her true colours to me for the first time: how she was going to send me a long paragraph and block me, how she was going to go to this event with my friends that I wasn't invited to, how I was a bad friend and ridiculous. 

I was seething at this point, but I still asked her whether she still wanted to talk. She said "I can't be bothered with this anymore to be honest" so I thought that it was the appropriate time to block her, since I wasn't feeling up to reading a massive paragraph of ridiculous accusations. 

But after she unfriended me on other social media her anger shifted: from me, to the original flatmate who "took my side" (as she claims) throughout all of this. And because of this, we somehow got closer and talked about what she'd told both of us, separately.

According to him, it was her mother who held a knife at her throat on the way back from school to the refuge. This was why it was necessary for her to get a restraining order (even though she claims to have gone back to visit London just this year - which again doesn't make sense, because she's estranged. Unless that's a lie as well, who knows at this point) against her. She lied to me in particular about her ex-boyfriend visiting a few months ago - which doesn't even make sense, because I already knew about it in advance and was fine with it - why would she lie and say he didn't after all? Fuck, when I checked the instagram she made me block when I first met her, it turned out that his name wasn't what she told me it was. He also lives in France, not Dubai. And I don't know how they would've met, because he's 25 and it seems like he's lived in France his whole life. She told me he's 22 and they went to school together. 

It just. Doesn't make. Sense.

Apparently the original flatmate once spied some documents that diagnosed her with "middle-child syndrome" or in other words, attention seeking syndrome. I don't know whether that translates to "pathological liar" but it could certainly explain her need for lying.

Although more recently, she stirred some shit up with the original flatmate's friends, and he's doing his best to sort through the lies right now because the scary thing is, that there's a grain of truth in every lie.

It's fucking scary. I don't know anything about her - was everything about her a lie? Is her favourite colour even yellow, like she told me it is? I don't even know anymore. Nothing makes sense, and to make things worse, I can't even ask her because I can't trust anything that comes out of her mouth. Does she believe in what she says herself? Could it be that she's completely crazy?

If I have any advice, it's to stay away. Trust no one until you've known them for at least a year. Make sure that they don't have any information that they can blackmail or manipulate you with. Disbelieve any claims that seem too outlandish without evidence.

I thought I did all of this, but I was wrong - this person slipped under the radar, entirely. Be extra careful - someone could slip under yours too.

[him-e]

What do you think it was that made Jaime confide his secret to Brienne? Was it just a breaking point for him and he would have spilled had it been someone else in Brienne's place

Someone else? No.

(just… imagine Jaime confessing to a naked-as-his-nameday Qyburn, I’m howling)

Like, of course he could have, because Jaime is a fictional character and he does what GRRM wants him to do. Which is precisely why his confiding in Brienne is such a BIG authorial decision, even if, in-narrative, it were completely random. But it’s not. Brienne is a huge part of what leads Jaime to that breaking point. The fact that Jaime makes this confession to her (and nobody else) is essential in understanding why he does it, why he kept that secret for so long, his troubled relationship with knighthood, and many other things about his arc.

1. a breaking point. the jaime we meet in ASOS is a man at the end of his rope (re: carrying the burden of the secret about Aerys all alone / not sharing with anyone the reason why he killed him). He’s spent an entire book in captivity, surrounded by people who despise him, and this probably had the effect of forcing him to think about Aerys harder than he usually did (more on that later). Since early in ASOS, we see that Jaime thinks of Aerys often, reluctantly but often, and as his chapters progress he becomes increasingly and visibly exhausted at being addressed as “kingslayer”. His memories of Aerys are easily triggered and surface in scattered, angst-ridden flashbacks, each revealing a specific piece of the puzzle, but not the main course. His mind wants to go there, but at the same time retreats from it. Aside from doylist reasons (to create suspense and curiosity in the reader) I think this proves how killing the king represents a highly traumatic event for him—or better, the culmination of a traumatic series of circumstances he was subjected to when he was barely an adult (let’s not forget that Jaime’s first 2 years of service in the kingsguard coincided with the nadir of Aerys’ paranoia and madness. He witnessed unspeakable horrors, was told to shut up, had to learn how to “go away inside” while Aerys raped and barbecued people, all of this when he was 15-16 and knew exactly that the king considered him his tool to humiliate Tywin. Remember, Aerys’ last order was for Jaime to bring him Tywin’s head, or “burn with all the rest”.)

(the reason why Jaime kept his mouth sealed on the wildfire plot for 15+ years is an interesting question. It can’t be only misplaced commitment to the oath of keeping the king’s secrets, can it? This fandom seems to have settled on the idea that Jaime is a narcissist with a victim complex who just loves playing the unsung hero, and apparently this one note can be retroactively used to explain all his actions. Ahem, in this circumstance, who would he be playing the unsung hero to? Himself? lol, that’s not fucking worth it if you don’t have an audience, not even an imaginary one. But it IS about pride. He knew it since his father’s bannermen laid their eyes on him with silent judgment—there’s no workable extenuating circumstance for a knight of the kingsguard committing regicide, simple as that, and coming up with some ~averted wildfire apocalypse~ nonsense without any pyromancers or other witnesses left to back his claim would sound like begging for forgiveness. Jaime is a Lannister, he doesn’t beg. He doesn’t justify himself, that’s for scoundrels and small time crooks. No, he lifts his chin and owns it. Oh, and it’s also possible that he genuinely thought it was safer for the entire citizenship to ignore the existence of the wildfire caches altogether, as there’s absolutely no evidence of Jaime knowing that the hidden wildfire can be accidentally ignited, but I digress.)

Since we don’t have access to his pov before ASOS, we don’t know if this constant back and forth between present and past is something that Jaime has always done, or a more recent thing. I headcanon that the long captivity Jaime suffered in Riverrun is a key factor. That’s where I think he started to seriously weigh up “his life, his choices” (he’s still halfway through that process). Imprisoned for months, surrounded by enemies all the time, removed from the things that made him a proud Lannister, that gave him joy and relief and a solid sense of self (Cersei), his coping mechanisms began to fall apart. Jaime has always relied on his sense of superiority, on his “I am a Lannister, and you can all kiss my arse” mentality to cope with his broken reputation. Hiding behind sarcasm, reveling in the addictive thrill of his forbidden relationship with Cersei, sneering at his fellow kingsguards / the hypocrisy of the court / Ned’s honor, all of this helped him to keep functioning without falling apart, because kingslayer or not he was the lion of Lannister, better than the rest, stronger than the rest, he and Cersei living a life closer to the gods than to ordinary mortal people. Jaime has learned how to dgaf about those who whisper “kingslayer” behind his back, but that’s different now. The captivity in Riverrun is probably the longest time he’s had to deal with people’s open, unmitigated contempt with no shields or barriers, no safety nets aside from his own mind, which is an increasingly unpleasant place to be in. (jaime is both insecure and prideful, a terrible, terrible combo when you receive criticism)

so when Catelyn comes to visit (actually to force an oath on him), he’s exhausted. He still relies heavily on sarcasm, but his walls are low enough to start blathering about “too many vows” (also because, well, he’s drunk) which sounds like the beginning of… an explanation, perhaps. But it’s too early for that, Catelyn is not the kind of audience who has any patience for his shit, and he will have to lose much more than his dignity to finally spill the beans.

2. it’s particularly Brienne’s accusations that sting. It becomes personal. He always reacts when she addresses his oathbreaking and kingslaying with contempt. Sometimes jokingly:

“I’ve had a bellyful of silence, woman.”“Talk with Ser Cleos then. I have no words for monsters.”Jaime hooted. “Are there monsters hereabouts? Hiding beneath the water, perhaps? In that thick of willows? And me without my sword!”

sometimes deflecting:

“Do you deny that you slew a king?”“No. Do you deny your sex? If so, unlace those breeches and show me.” He gave her an innocent smile. “I’d ask you to open your bodice, but from the look of you that wouldn’t prove much.”

“A man who would violate his own sister, murder his king, and fling an innocent child to his death deserves no other name.”Innocent? The wretched boy was spying on us. […] “You will be courteous as concerns Cersei, wench”.

sometimes (kind of) apologetically:

“Your crimes are past forgiving, Kingslayer.”“That name again.” Jaime twisted idly at his chains. “Why do I enrage you so? I’ve never done you harm that I know of.”

sometimes aggressively:

“It was that white cloak that soiled me, not the other way around. So spare me your envy. It was the gods who neglected to give you a cock, not me.” The look Brienne gave him then was full of loathing.

sometimes attempting to corner her into the logical fallacy of “your reputation isn’t that different from mine, so we’re practically the same!”:

“I know what I swore.”“And what you did.” She loomed above him, six feet of freckled, frowning, horse-toothed disapproval.“Yes, and what you did as well. We’re both kingslayers here, if what I’ve heard is true.”

“Your wits are quicker than mine, I confess it. When they found me standing over my dead king, I never thought to say, ‘No, no, it wasn’t me, it was a shadow, a terrible cold shadow.’“ He laughed again. ”Tell me true, one kingslayer to another—did the Starks pay you to slit his throat, or was it Stannis? Had Renly spurned you, was that the way of it? Or perhaps your moon’s blood was on you. Never give a wench a sword when she’s bleeding.“ For a moment Jaime thought Brienne might strike him.

Brienne is an endless challenge. He can see the disapproval in her eyes even when she says nothing, and it drives him insane. It’s not just physical and mental exhaustion and frustration at his own powerlessness—Brienne is his captor, so naturally he’s going to lash out at her, try to goad her into lashing out herself, or just be annoyed at her in general—it’s also that he sees in Brienne a genuine judgment, free of the hypocrisy of those who were well content with serving Aerys and watch him roast people alive, until Aerys was no more the king and Robert was. Or those who have their hands covered in blood and have slit countless throats with their sword, throats that belonged to better people than Aerys.

Brienne isn’t like that. Her hands are clean (book!Brienne has yet to kill her first man at this point), her eyes are truly guileless, and her only fault is a lack of experience. An infuriating one, sure—it angers Jaime to hear her describe the kingsguard as “a rare and precious gift […] that you scorned and soiled”, because what does this child know of the kingsguard. but that’s the point. She doesn’t belong to the world that soiled his dreams. She wasn’t much older than the two children who were brutally murdered under his watch at the time of the sack of King’s Landing. Indeed, Jaime sometimes calls her a child in his internal monologue. It’s innocence, not hypocrisy, that is judging him. It’s something his usual performative cynicism doesn’t really have a grip on.

So basically he finds trapped in endless discourse with this young woman who just won’t leave him alone and always finds a way to throw his broken vows and monstrosity in his face, and it becomes harder and harder to dismiss her accusations. Because deep down Jaime is impressed and moved by her unflinching faith in knightly values. He thinks she’s stupid for doing so, sure, but it hits a nerve.

3. truces are built on trust. After Cleos dies and they are captured by the Bloody Mummers, Jaime and Brienne’s mutual relationship drastically changes. They stop being a prisoner and his captor, and become both prisoners of a bunch of brutal outlaws. Jaime is maimed, Brienne is repeatedly threatened with rape. I believe this is called traumatic bonding? But anyway, the point is that, willing or not, Jaime starts relying on Brienne. Heavily. Literally:

After the second time he fell from the saddle, they bound him tight to Brienne of Tarth and made them share a horse again. One day, instead of back to front, they bound them face-to-face. “The lovers,” Shagwell sighed loudly, “and what a lovely sight they are. ‘Twould be cruel to separate the good knight and his lady.” Then he laughed that high shrill laugh of his, and said, “Ah, but which one is the knight and which one is the lady?”If I had my hand, you’d learn that soon enough, Jaime thought. His arms ached and his legs were numb from the ropes, but after a while none of that mattered. His world shrunk to the throb of agony that was his phantom hand, and Brienne pressed against him. She’s warm, at least, he consoled himself, though the wench’s breath was as foul as his own.

She becomes a sort of anchor for him, someone whose physical proximity is comforting and reassuring and sometimes a literal crutch, and don’t forget that she’s also tasked with cleaning and nursing him while he’s feverish and gave him a pep talk when he was feeling suicidal, so he gets to experience her nurturing side, too. He knows her mission is to take him alive and unharmed to King’s Landing and that—unlike Vargo Hoat & co.—she takes it very, very seriously. At this point, in this situation, Brienne is the closest thing to a friend he has. Now fast forward to the bathtub scene:

“That was unworthy,” he mumbled. “I’m a maimed man, and bitter. Forgive me, wench. You protected me as well as any man could have, and better than most.” She wrapped her nakedness in a towel. “Do you mock me?” That pricked him back to anger. “Are you as thick as a castle wall? That was an apology. I am tired of fighting with you. What say we make a truce?” “Truces are built on trust. Would you have me trust - ” “The Kingslayer, yes. The oathbreaker who murdered poor sad Aerys Targaryen.“

the scene begins as your typical Jaime VS Brienne banter, with Jaime being a complete asshole, teasing and taunting Brienne even though he’s literally half dead (right before that: “Does the sight of my stump distress you so?” Jaime asked. “You ought to be pleased. I’ve lost the hand I killed the king with. The hand that flung the Stark boy from that tower. The hand I’d slide between my sister’s thighs to make her wet.” He thrust his stump at her face. “No wonder Renly died, with you guarding him”). But I think he’s genuinely desperate to have someone on his side, which is why he quickly swallows his taunts back and apologizes (in his own way).

Strange as it is, he trusts Brienne. He needs to. But she won’t trust him, not yet: he’s still the Kingslayer in her eyes, even after all they went through together. 

You need trust to have a truce, so he makes the first step, and volunteers his most guarded secret. Mind, it’s not like he knows what he’s doing—it’s not a completely deliberate choice. He’s exhausted and feverish and lightheaded: “why am I telling this absurd ugly child”, he wonders, while he “floats in heat and memory” and the story practically begins to tell itself, for it was bottled up for too long and was only waiting for a trigger that could let it loose. 

But I think the need to build that truce with Brienne is that trigger.

Now, can you really picture Qyburn in Brienne’s place? Or Roose Bolton? Or Pia? Or anyone? I can’t, because these people are nothing to Jaime—worse, most of them are his enemies. He hasn’t developed a complicated, conflicted relationship of begrudging respect with them. Besides, none of them would understand or particularly care about this confession; none of them wants desperately to be a knight of the kingsguard, believes in the sacrality of the institution and is deeply offended at the idea of someone revolting against its vows for apparently no reason—Brienne is. So it’s her opinion the relevant one. The one Jaime implicitly hopes to change (though he will never admit it to himself, and carefully avoids putting it in these terms in his internal monologue). 

He didn’t wait 16 years to just tell a random stranger. And if he merely wanted to unburden himself, he could have told Tyrion, or Cersei (the people he’s closest to). He didn’t, because they couldn’t get it either—they will never know (or so he thinks) the inherent contradiction of being an institutionalized killing machine bound to the whims of another person and still have to answer to your own conscience. Jaime is a knight, and one of a kind, so he’s going to tell another knight who is also one of a kind (for completely different reasons). Somehow, in some fundamental way, he understands that Brienne is his peer, and that she has already started to see a side of him that he’s always kept hidden; hopefully, his words won’t fall into the void with her, they’ll sink deep and stir a reaction, whatever it is.

(that’s why, in the end, he’s SO frustrated by Brienne’s silence: has my tale turned you speechless? Come, curse me or kiss me or call me a liar. Something. Jaime is desperate for either outright, definitive condemnation, or—finally—some kind of acceptance. I think part of him craves closure. And validation: please, tell me that my tale impressed you! (the narcissism discourse isn’t wrong, just very simplistic). But also: please, can you confirm that this is in fact a Big Deal? because back then I thought it was enough of a big deal to murder everyone involved with it!)

back to this:

“why am I telling this absurd ugly child?”

—this is actually lampshading on grrm’s part. It does require some suspension of disbelief that Jaime kept this secret for sixteen years, only to reveal it to someone who’s still, technically, his enemy, and whom he’s spent half the book cursing and mocking, right? But that “absurd ugly child” is not random at all, she is, in fact, the only possible recipient for Jaime’s secret, and on a deeper level he knows it. That’s why his conscious mind formulates the question, which, from a storytelling perspective, is there to tell you to pay attention. It means a lot that Jaime, that Jaime’s subconscious, chose Brienne. This is an incredibly layered, poignant scene. They’re both naked, exposed to each other without their armor and clothes and respective house sigils and all those concrete symbols of their political, social, ideological, ethical distance. All of that is removed, dissolved like the dirt on Jaime’s skin. It makes sense that only in this context, with all these underlying connections to cleansing, rebirth, nakedness, and in front of the person who most embodies the purest form of the ideal of knighthood, Jaime is finally compelled to tell the truth, all of it.

one last thing I’d like to mention is that there’s an ongoing thing on Jaime’s part about ~breaking in Brienne’s walls ~ that probably played a part here. He often notices how closed off she is, how guarded. In the early stages of their journey, he mistakes it for dullness, and tries to turn this to his advantage, to piss her off, to find her sore spots to make her lose her temper. Later, as their bond deepens, he discovers that this is a trait she shares with him:

Brienne was always bound beside him. She lay there in her bonds like a big dead cow, saying not a word. The wench has built a fortress inside herself. They will rape her soon enough, but behind her walls they cannot touch her. But Jaime’s walls were gone.

Yet he heard himself whisper, “Let them do it, and go away inside.” That was what he’d done, when the Starks had died before him, Lord Rickard cooking in his armor while his son Brandon strangled himself trying to save him. “Think of Renly, if you loved him. Think of Tarth, mountains and seas, pools, waterfalls, whatever you have on your Sapphire Isle, think…”

Brienne’s guardedness, much as her virginity, both intrigues and repels Jaime. One of the catalysts of the confession is that Brienne shrinks away and turns her back on him. She’s basically retreating behind her walls and shutting him out, while he actively sought her company (he chose the tub she was in, rather than an empty one). Jaime is met once again with rejection and scorn, and he knows that it’s not really about the fact that he just saw her naked, or about something he’s said or done, no, it’s about something he did 16 years ago. It always comes back to Aerys, so Jaime confesses. And I think that yes, in part, he’s trying to get past Brienne’s walls.

[praeliasdecorum]

Abuse is not just physical.

The following post is not a story. And it deals with verbal and mental abuse, as well as a brief mention of self harm. If that triggers you, you might want to skip this post.

"Katherine, get the boys some cookies!" my mom calls. I've finished the two sinkfulls of dishes for the day as well as the counter and stove full, and it's almost bedtime for the kids. I've got my laundry and my sister's in the washer, meaning I'll need to put it in the dryer before I go to bed. I'll have to wait on Charlie's for that, but no one ever folds laundry anyways so I can do what we all do with it and put it in a basket to the side. My two brothers and sister follow me to the kitchen, jumping with excitement as I pass the chocolate-chip goodies out to them. Charlie comes in the back door, and no one seems to notice but me. Because I'm hyper-alert to him. He stops in the doorway of the kitchen, looking enraged. "Don't you start fucking passing fucking cookies out till you ask!" he spits. "We did," I say, leaving it at that. He shoots me a dirty look, angry that he's wrong about jumping my case, and storms off. The kids get their cookies, and they go away to do whatever they were doing before the cookies. I realize I forgot to clean the counter. Fuck. Charlie is going to see that, and I'll be in trouble yet again. I grab a cleaner and some paper towels and go to work, almost panicking. If he sees that I forgot, he'll flip. Out of nowhere, I hear, "Why did you touch my fucking laundry?" Charlie. I hadn't even heard him come up. I hesitate. How could I word it without making him even more angry? "Lacy and I needed clothes for school tomorrow, so I moved yours to the dryer so I could start some in the washer for us." "You don't fucking touch my laundry without asking, you hear me?" My mom hears us, and she says nothing. "Okay," I say, and he turns to leave but before I can stop myself I say, "Don’t talk to me like that please." He stops. Panic takes over me, and I'm petrified. Oh, god. Will this be the time he hits me? He hasn't been this mad in a while. Shit. "What did you just say to me?" Giving me a chance to take it back. A chance to avoid another fight. But I'm a moron tonight. I'm sick of him. I'm sick of me. I'm sick of being treated like this, and my thighs sting when I remember I can't keep doing this if this is how I'm going to be treated. "I said, please don't talk to me like that." He storms towards me and pins me to the kitchen counter. I'm already in tears. He's twice my size and if he wanted to, he could put me in the hospital. He could kill me. "You don't fucking talk to me like that!" He screams. "Give me your god damn phone!" I move my phone out of his reach. Again, a moronic move. But I know I'm right. I know this isn't okay. I KNOW this is not normal. I know this is abuse. "No," I say, "not until you tell me what I did wrong." Apparently I have balls tonight. And I'm fucking terror-stricken. I'm so scared I'm almost immobilized. Despite my ballsy talk, I keep my eyes downcast because I know if I see him, if I see his face, I'll break down and I'll cry and I know I'll be more scared and more angry and I wont be able to do it. "Give me your god damn phone!" he repeats, trying to grab it from me. He pushes me further against the counter as he tries to grab it. I keep it out of his reach, "Tell me what I did wrong!" I'm cornered by him. The counter is digging into my back and I'm sweating and I want to piss myself I am so frightened and now I can't think because if I do it'll screw me over and if I'm going to stand up to him I better follow it through because if I don’t I wont make any progress. He snatches the phone from me and shoves it in his pocket. His gaze turns to me, anger and fury and quite possibly hate in his green eyes. Oh god. And now I'm in trouble. What's he going to say? This is the angriest I've ever seen him. Will he hit me? Will he kill me? What's going to happen? God, he's so mad. He's still pinning me to the counter and he's so mad and if he hurts me what am I going to do how am I going to get away will I even get away or will I just be beaten till he's tired but there are knives two feet away so will he grab one? I shove him back. And I'm immobilized now. Did I just do that? I can't freeze now! Move! Run before he moves! He shoves me against the counter again but now I don't even feel anything and now I'm angry how dare he touch me? I shove him back, and again he pushes me against the counter and I push him again and scream because oh fuck I want him dead but I couldn't take him on and now he screams at me. "Go fucking talk to your fucking mother!" I start out of the kitchen. "You think you can talk to me like that? You think you can stand up to me? You're lucky I don't fucking tell you to get out of my house!" I can't control myself. I've said and done too much to care anymore. "You want me out, all you gotta do is say so! I'll grab my shit and get out right fucking now!" I hurry up the stairs because I know he'll be following me. And by this point, I'm in tears. I'm shaking. I'm scared beyond belief. Will he actually put me on the street? I've had a bag packed just in case for ages and I can probably stay at Melanie's for a few days. It'd be better than staying here, probably. My mom is sitting on her bed reading something on her phone, but she sets it down when I come in. She'd moved upstairs during my argument with Charlie, probably to avoid being caught in the crossfire. I'm sure she heard most of it, but regardless, I quickly explain what happened to her before he comes in because I know he'll lie to her and make me look like the bad guy. "I was giving the kids cookies and he came in and told me to 'fucking' ask before I did, and then not to 'fucking touch his laundry without fucking asking' even though you told me I could move it and Lacy and me needed laundry. I asked him not to talk to me like that and he told me to give him my phone and I told him to tell me what I did wrong and then I pushed him cause I was scared and-" He comes in and I shut up. Talking now could really get me hurt. He's been known to throw shoes at my brothers' heads and punch walls and throw chairs. What's stopping him from hitting me? The answer to that question: nothing. And that's terrifying. "Go to your god damn room and don't you fucking dare come out till I tell you to!" he bellows. I scurry off, but I sprint past him because I swear I see him raise his hand. He screams at the top of his lungs at my mom for maybe twenty minutes, and then I hear him stomping towards my room. I push myself against the corner of my bed and the wall, praying to a God I don't even believe in that he doesn't come in. Charlie pushes my door open so hard that it knocks several figurines off of my bookshelf. "Get in there and talk to your mom!" he screams. I wait for him to go down the stairs before I even think about moving, and I close my mom's door behind me as I enter her room. I sit on the bed next to her and I'm still shaking, twenty minutes later. She looks annoyed with him. "I told him he was in the wrong, but you're still grounded for a week." Better than I thought. But, that doesn't mean I don’t have to live with him. "Why am I in trouble if he's the one who was wrong?" I had to ask. She just admitted he was wrong, but I was still being punished. "To appease him." she states simply. I spent the rest of the night in my room, cowering. I cut myself, again, because it made me feel better. It's what I needed at the time.

It's been two years since then, and now I'm almost twenty. I moved out a few months later, thanks to my ex-step-grandmother who was willing to drive two thousand miles and spend hundreds of dollars to get me out of that household. That night was a bad one for Charlie, perhaps his worst, but it wasn't the only time he spoke to me like that. It wasn't the only time that I was genuinely afraid of being beaten. This is the first time I have put this into words aside from talking about it a handful of times with my closest, most trusted friends, but my hands still shook. This is what abuse looks like.

Two years later, I still panic around men. Being around men who are built similarly to Charlie (which is not his real name) set me on edge. I sweat, and I am on the edge of my seat and I am never far from the exit of a room if there's someone who has his bodytype around. If any guy sets something down too hard, or slams a cabinet, it's enough to send me into a full blown panic attack. Even if they look nothing like him.

Abuse is not just physical. It's verbal. It's mental. If you are in a situation like this, you need to know that it's not okay. You need to know it's not your fault, and it's not something you deserve.

You deserve better.  And you need to get out because things like this can screw you up for life. Or at the very least for a long time.

[stagesofabreakup]

Stages of a Breakup: Week 33

1. Help your grandma’s friend set up a new computer she bought

2. Also try to help her backup her old one

3. She told the people at Dell when she bought the new computer that she “didn’t want” wifi, so they TOOK IT OFF THE COMPUTER, which you didn’t even know they could do

4. You’re working all night by Ethernet cord

5. The backup keeps failing because of a shadow copy timeout

6. You eat the world’s most intense grilled cheese that your Grandma’s friend (Winnie) makes for you

7. Google some stuff and get the backup to start

8. Winnie’s friend Joan comes over with nips of Ciroc and they talk and drink

9. You think being 75 in New York seems like the shit

10. Eat more cheese, now on crackers

11. Talk with Winnie and Joan for a while

12. Joan used to be a Private Investigator and she showed you her license and told you about how she used to look up all her daughter’s boyfriends

13. She mentions she is looking for someone to stay in her spare room on Roosevelt Island

14. You consider it, and let her know you have something until February but maybe after

15. You and Joan exchange numbers and make a tentative plan to have lunch/see the apartment on some weekend in the future

16. You were supposed to meet your friend but the backup has taken like three hours and still isn’t finished and now it’s too late to go to Harlem because also your friend has a real job

17. You just go home instead

18. Have one beer

19. Text your friend Charlie but he’s on a date (ooh la la!)

20. Try to got to sleep

21. Work from 12-6:00pm at the dance studio college job

22. Finish reading The Color Purple

23. It’s so good

24. Write like 15 pages in your journal

25. Count how many pages you’ve written in your journal in the past 3 weeks and it’s like 50

26. Decide to go to a mic after work in Brooklyn

27. Go straight there with your backpack and laptop and food bag

28. Get there after 45 minutes only to find out they switched it to a different night

29. Decide to go to a different one that’s back in Manhattan

30. Call first so you don’t make the same mistake twice

31. They don’t answer because it’s a bar

32. Decide to go anyway because what are the odds that’ll happen twice?

33. It does

34. Decide to go to your friend’s show that’s back in Brooklyn (thank god you have that unlimited Metrocard!) because you can’t just go home

35. She gets the doorguy to wave the 10$ cover

36. Watch all of your friends on the show

37. Laugh about periods

38. Be happy

39. Hang out for a TINY bit after the show but everyone just wants to go home

40. Go home

41. Work again

42. Start and finish one of the books from your favorite series

43. Agonize about going to your friend’s mic at 6:30 that’s intimidating and terrible when you’re already going to a different mic at 9:00pm

44. Go to the library

45. Check out some books and dvds!

46. Find a movie theatre you didn’t know was there!

47. Go home, drop stuff off, eat

48. Realllllyyyyyyy want to stay in and sleep and watch a library dvd

49. Email the hosts of the second mic you’re coming to reserve a spot and so you can’t back out

50. Walk 45 min there (Upper East Side-fancy)

51. Have the bouncer look at you for ONE second before saying, “Comedy’s in the back”

52. Go up

53. Have a great set

54. Hang around watching people

55. Run into your friend Mara

56. Take the train back with her

57. She decides to come to Philly with you this weekend, says she’ll see if she can find more shows, also you guys talk about maybe starting a mic together

58. Go home

59. Feel accomplished and good

60. Watch The Diary of a Teenage Girl

61. Be ENRAGED that they made the main character thin

62. Be less enraged when you look up the original artwork from the novel and realize she was much smaller than you remember

63. Love the movie

64. Text your friend Jade most of the night about a million different things

65. Feel connected and good

66. Try to sleep

67. Go to bed around 6:00am

68. Get up around 2:47pm

69. Spend two hours trying to get uptown while the trains aren’t working

70. Finally end up taking an express to 125th and walking the 15 blocks back down to where you need to be

71. Which is at a sports bar because the Yankees are playing and your friend Gaby cares

72. Get her and her girlfriend a drink, in addition to yours this costs 40 dollars

73. Hang for a while

74. Smoke weed on the walk to the train

75. Ride the train and start reading The Handmaid’s Tale which you got from the library

76. Find out that one of your cousin’s friends drank your good special beer you were saving

77. Feel your blood boil with rage

78. Have to actively calm yourself down

79. Start watching Fifty Shades Darker

80. It’s SO terrible

81. Go to sleep at 6:00am again

82. Spend a lot of the day in bed simmering about the beer

83. Finally emerge and confront him about it

84. He seems not to understand that that was wrong

85. Impress upon him that it is

86. He asks if you want him to replace it

87. You do

88. Leave feeling ok

89. Go over to Winnie’s again (late) to check out what the backup is doing (it’s STILL going)

90. Figure out the password to her new computer she forgot but wouldn’t let you write a hint for because, “it’s the one I always remember”

91. Fix that stuff

92. Scrap the backup because it wasn’t done after two days and Winnie says she doesn’t even want what’s on the computer anyway

93. Realize you’re WAY late to meet your friend Lizzy because everything got pushed back

94. Get to a bar called Ethyl’s like 45 minutes late

95. She’s not mad because as soon as you ger there she gets a phone call from a boy and now you have to wait and that’s karma

96. Ethyl’s seems cool, a waitress comes up to take your drink order twice while Lizzy is on the phone and you have to be like, “still waiting”

97. Write in your journal which is actually needed

98. Feel better

99. Lizzy comes back and actually wants to leave because Ethyl’s is really loud (it is)

100. She wants to get food and suggests Wahlburgers, the hamburger chain restaurant Mark Wahlberg’s family owns

101. Go there

102. Get tater tots

103. Talk about relationships

104. Realize how much you miss your ex-boyfriend’s body

105. Leave Wahlburgers (but not before taking a photo of the word collage on the ceiling of every movie Mark Wahlberg’s ever been in)

106. Go to Lizzy’s house

107. Eat ice cream and paint your nails and talk about rape culture

108. Watch the first episode of American Vandal which you did NOT realize was satire/funny

109. Go home

110. Watch the rest of Fifty Shades Darker and Katy Perry’s A Part of Me

111. Be genuinely sad that she and Russell Brand broke up

112. Try to sleep

113. Wake up at 9:37am for some reason?????

114. Talk to your mom on the phone

115. Address the holiday worries you have been having

116. Tell her you’d rather spend the holidays alone this year now that your parents are divorced and it’s not going to be what it was

117. She understands

118. You talk about how sad you are to miss Mardi Gras this year

119. While you say it you realize how fucking sad you will be to miss Mardi Gras this year

120. Your mom starts looking up tickets just to see

121. SHE FINDS ONE FOR 167 ROUNDTRIP BUT THEN LOSES IT

122. You find it again for 170 and BUY IT

123. YOU’RE GOING TO MARDI GRAS BITCH!!!!!

124. You are filled with joy

125. But also worry about seeing your ex-boyfriend because you don’t want to but it’s honestly unavoidable and you don’t want to hook up with him but part of you does and you don’t want to get wrapped up in all this again and feel weak

126. You tell like 5 people you’re coming back

127. They are excited but you’re also worried about where you will stay

128. Figure out a few places you can spread it among

129. And a friend who can pick you up from the airport at 8:42am, god bless

130. You also decide to buy your bus ticket for Philly this weekend while you’re getting things done

131. Your friends from college who live in Philly also saw that you’re coming on facebook and texted you so you’re seeing them now too which will be so nice and wonderful

132. On the phone with your mom you guys talked about “Metoo” and she shares that she wants to support but honestly doesn’t feel like she’s ever experienced sexual harassment

133. You are truly shocked that any woman can say that, but also happy that her life has been like that

134. You guys get into a deeper conversation and you share that the fear of rape drives a lot of what you do, even down to the weight you are

135. Your mom confesses that she’s thought that for years but didn’t think it was her place to say

136. You’re shocked but also feel like a weight is lifted having that validated/confirmed by someone who knows you so well

137. Start thinking about how to dismantle that fear

138. Have a really frustrating conversation with your friend Gabe about censorship and comedy

139. Take a shower

140. Get dressed

141. Decide to go to an open mic

142. Walk an hour there because you don’t have a gym membership yet and haven’t left the house today

143. Get there only to find out it’s not a mic anymore but a show

144. Look up another mic and walk there

145. Same thing

146. Do this two more times before giving up

147. Look up a movie theatre (something that can never let us down)

148. Head to it without even seeing what’s playing or any of the showtimes

149. Spend almost 20 dollars in a CVS on Pringles and Australian licorice and Sour patch kids

150. Get the ticket for free because you have an AMC coupon from the time you didn’t get to see Girls Trip after waiting in line for 5+ hours

151. Watch The Foreigner (the Jackie Chan vehicle that’s like Taken but if his daughter got killed in the beginning and it was just for the hell of it) while eating lots of licorice and pringles

152. Take the train home because you’re tired of walking

153. Be aware that more men have leered and catcalled you tonight than they have in a while and this was the first time you actually felt good getting dressed and going out and how strong that correlation between weight and male attention/sexual violence is

154. Kind of decide not to do that anymore and see what happens

155. Also tackle the idea that your ex-boyfriend’s body validates you in a way and try to see what you would feel for him if you didn’t need that anymore

156. Get home

157. Eat a strawberry yogurt

158. Tweet about Dave Chappelle and trans rights some (pro-both!)

159. Decide to read because you have to get up tomorrow to work even though you really want to watch the third XXX movie you have from the library