#it was like “his hair was in wicks a style he usually liked to put his hair in”

[beeheevs]

sometimes, I'll be reading an atsv fic and come across one word or way of phrasing or encounter, and all of a sudden just know the author is black. on the flipside, sometimes writers will write in a certain way that makes it obvious they're decidedly not 💀

[evansbby]

𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒☆.｡.:*

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐕 - 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: mean jock!Ari Levinson x naive!reader, mean jock!Steve Rogers x naive reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smutt, dubcon, daddy!kink, size difference, innocence kink, HEAVY MENTIONS OF ALCOHOL AND DRUG CONSUMPTION, mentions of depression, mentions of self-medication, seriously, if you're sensitive about that kind of stuff please do not read, 18+ only, minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You're done with both Ari and Steve. But they're not quite done with you...

𝐀/𝐍: Here it is. Again, I'm putting up a disclaimer: Please beware of the strong mentions of irresponsible alcohol and drug consumption in this chapter. Also be aware of the depictions of depression in this chapter. Stay safe & only read what you are comfortable with. This is a dark story. This is chapter 4 of Wicked Games. It is 33.6k words. Enjoy, besties!

Steve: Hey. Look, I’m really sorry about what happened yesterday. Things got out of control and I really did not mean to scare you. Could we talk in person?

Steve: I did plan a date for us. I know you don’t believe me, but I did. For whatever that’s worth. Look, just text me back, okay? Or answer my calls.

Steve: Sometimes I just get like that. Even if you don’t understand, just reply and say you’ll talk to me. I’ll explain everything. Please.

Steve: Can’t you see I’m trying? I want us to work.

Steve: It wasn’t just about sex to me. I know that’s what it looked like but it wasn’t.

Steve: ?????

Each time your phone pings with a new text, you feel a stronger urge to just throw it out the window. Oh, why couldn’t he just leave you alone? You feel awful and on edge, the night’s sleep had done you absolutely no good. You’d tossed and turned the whole time, crying and feeling sad about how terribly your “date” had gone down yesterday. How you’d been used. How it was all just about sex for him, no matter what he claimed.

Your phone starts pinging again.

Ari: Are you okay?

Ari: You need to tell me exactly what he did to you. I’ll set him straight, I promise. I just need to know what he did.

Ari: You were really worked up yesterday so I gave you your space but I’m worried. And pissed off. Just answer me.

Ari: Pick up your phone.

Ari: I’m coming over.

No, no, no. You don’t want him to come over. You don’t want to see either of them. To hell with their mood swings and cocky egos and fake concern for you. Now you know there was only one thing that men like Ari and Steve truly ever wanted from you – sex. Fuck them both. If Ari came over now, you’d scream your head off and not let him in again.

You were done. Completely and irrevocably done. Not just with Ari and Steve, but with men and relationships in general. You were going to make a solemn vow to yourself that from now on, that–

A sudden knocking on your door interrupts your thoughts. Pressing your lips into a thin line, you feel the anger surge through you. Who the fuck was that? Ari? He’d only just sent his last message a minute ago – how was he already here?

A wave of anxiety overtakes you suddenly… What if it was Steve?

Another knock. But it sounds a lot softer than Ari’s usual loud banging – which was what he did on days where he’d forget your dorm key at home.

“Y/N?” You hear a faint, familiar voice from the other side of the door. “Are you there?”

Huh. That was definitely not Steve or Ari…

It takes you about five seconds to haul yourself off your bed and across the room. You open the door cautiously, only to find Sharon standing there. Her face is swollen, red and blotchy, her shiny and usually pristinely styled hair scraped back in a low, sad ponytail. Not a trace of makeup on her face, and she’s wearing a loose, wrinkled St. Andrews sweatshirt instead of her usual cheerleading uniform.

“Ari broke up with me!” She bursts into tears, pulling you into a hug that you have no choice but to return. And the guilt is immediate, spreading throughout your body, thrumming through your bloodstream along with dread. Of course, you knew Ari had dumped her… for you.

“Oh, Sharon…” you mumble against her sweatshirt, a huge lump forming in your throat, “I’m so, so sorry.” Sorrier than you realise…

Sharon sniffles, “I know we’re not really close, but I just didn’t know who else to talk to about this. All my friends are also his friends, or girlfriends of his friends, and…and…and I just needed someone who was my friend, and not his, and–” She breaks out into a fresh wave of tears, hugging you tightly again, burying her face in your neck as she cries. You awkwardly pat her shoulder, feeling like the world’s worst person.

“Come in,” you say reluctantly. Sure, you had your own problems, but you weren’t just going to leave her crying out in the hallway, were you? Especially not since you were basically the reason for her tears.

She smiles weakly, “Thank you.”

You manage to quickly type out a message to Ari while she isn’t looking:

Sharon’s here. Don’t come over. And stop texting me.

“It just came so out of nowhere,” she says, following you into your room and sitting on the edge of your bed, “Well, we weren’t having sex like how we used to but I just assumed he was stressed about basketball or something.”

“Wait, the two of you weren’t having sex?” You blurt out a tad too eagerly, but she doesn’t seem to notice. You sink down beside her, “I mean… wow… so you guys weren’t being – uh – intimate?”

Sharon shakes her head, using the sleeve of her sweatshirt to wipe her eyes, “Not for, like, the past month. But I really didn’t think he was cheating on me… But he basically told me he was dumping me because there was someone else.”

Your heart jumps up to your throat, “H-He said that?”

“Yeah. Well, at first, he kept saying the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ crap.” She snorts, aggressively twining a loose strand of her blonde hair round and round her pointer finger, “But I told him to be honest and just tell me straight up, and I was yelling and so upset and finally he said that there was someone else. Can you believe that?”

Your hands feel clammy, the guilt and anxiety churning around in your stomach like a witch’s cauldron. Should you tell her now? Tell her that you’re the reason her boyfriend dumped her? That you’d been sleeping with Ari behind her back for months? Oh God… You were an awful person, weren’t you? Well, you hadn’t known about Sharon at first… and back then you were innocent enough to believe Ari when he said he’d broken up with her. But you’d wisened up to that and still had sex with him at the party, hadn’t you?

You gulp, “Sharon, there’s something–”

“And can you believe that for a split second I thought it was you?” She says suddenly, her eyes wide and unblinking.

Your blood freezes, “I, I–”

“I know, I know… Totally ridiculous, right?” She laughs. And you’d expected her laugh to be all cute and twinkly and perfect how she is, but it’s low and hoarse and ironic. She squeezes your arm, “I hate that my mind even went there. I don’t know you that well but I just know you wouldn’t do that to me, Y/N.”

“Sharon–”

 “It’s just that one time, at that basketball practice when the ball hit your face. The way Ari carried you off… I just got this feeling in my gut, you know?” She laughs again, “But that was just Ari being Ari, stepping up and taking charge of a situation when no one else would. And it’s awful of me to even think you’d do something like that when you’d just got struck in the face and were probably in a lot of pain. Gosh, I’m so sorry for even thinking it!”

She hugs you again. You can smell her sweet perfume, and it goes straight to your head, making you feel sick. Or maybe it’s the guilt eating away at your insides that’s making you feel sick.

“There’s something I have to tell you–”

“–We were together for almost a whole year, you know?” Sharon cuts you off again. “I was gonna take him home for Thanksgiving and everything.” She’s still hugging you, and her cheek rests against the bare nape of your neck. You weren’t used to being this touchy with your girlfriends, but you continue to pat her back nonetheless, feeling like the world’s most awful person ever.

“He’s just the world’s most awful person ever!” She cries, “Like he threw our relationship away like it was nothing! And I was so good to him, Y/N!”

“I know, I know,” you say softly. You feel a wave of disgust for Ari overtake you, but the disgust you feel at yourself overshadows it completely.

“But maybe it’s for the best,” She sits up suddenly, her eyes wide and glistening, an almost daring look on her face, your hand still encased in hers. “Maybe me and Ari weren’t meant to be, and he was just a stupid phase in my life.”

“He’s just a fuckboy,” you agree truthfully, despite feeling rotten over your role in all of this. “You can do so much better than him, Sharon.”

She nods, “Yeah, I think so too. I mean, he’s super hot and all, but…” And then she pauses, looking at you with a curious expression. She bites her lip, still holding on to your hand. “Maybe this is too much information, but lately, even when I was, you know, taking care of myself… I wouldn’t think of him. I’d think of someone else.”

“That’s good!” You say enthusiastically. “Who were you thinking of? Like an actor or singer or something? Or a cute guy in one of your classes?”

She stares at you a bit longer, before suddenly dropping her gaze, “Yeah, something like that. Anyways, thank you so much for being there for me, Y/N. I know I just barged into your room unannounced.”

At that moment, your phone vibrates. Once, twice, three times. More texts. You’re thankful you left your phone facedown; in case they were from Ari and she saw.

“That’s probably Steve, isn’t it?” Sharon says.

You nod quickly, suddenly in a hurry to stop talking about Ari, “Yeah. They’re all from him. He’s been texting me nonstop since last night when me and him had a fight.”

“Oh no. Is everything gonna be okay?”

You shake your head tersely, not wanting to talk about the disastrous date. “No. Me and him are over. Forever.” And so are me and Ari.

Sharon nods, giving you another hug. “Men are trash. I’m so glad we have each other, Y/N. I’m so happy we’re friends now.”

You swallow harshly, hoping the guilt isn’t so evident on your face. Inside your head, there’s about a million different thoughts racing each other. Should you tell her about Ari now? Or wait till later when she was more distanced from the situation and less distraught? Oh God, it was like problems followed you wherever you went! First Steve, then Ari, and now Sharon was in the mix too. And the worst part was, how kind she was being. How genuinely good she was and how she didn’t deserve to be lied to in the least.

I’ll tell her, you promise yourself. I swear I’ll tell her soon…

***

“You need to stop moping around so much,” Wanda says as the two of you walk down the corridor after a lecture. Well, she walks. You just drag your feet. It’s been two days since the “date” with Steve and the subsequent scene with Sharon in your dorm room, and your emotions have been all over the place.

“Like okay, so the Steve thing didn’t work out. It’s not the end of the world, is it? Just get over it.” Wanda continues scanning the crowd of people in the hallway.

“I just feel like nobody wants a relationship with me, Wanda.” You say softly. “All they ever seem to want is sex.”

“Huh? Yeah, that really sucks,” she says distractedly, standing on her tip-toes to look over the sea of heads all milling around or heading to their next class. “Where’s Curtis? He agreed to meet me here.”

Your stomach drops. Curtis again? Oh, you hope Ari’s not with him! You’d successfully been able to avoid him since the night he’d left your dorm room, and you didn’t want to break that streak now.

Wanda spots her boyfriend a moment later and squeals, jumping up and down trying to get his attention. Thankfully, he isn’t with Ari. But he is standing in a cosy corner of the corridor, deep in conversation with a tiny brunette cheerleader. You watch as she laughs at something he said and puts her hand on his chest.

You glance warily at Wanda, but she still has that determined bright smile on her face as she charges over to him, pulling you along with her.

“Curtis! Hey!” She wraps her arms around his neck territorially, plastering her lips on his. The cheerleader smirks, and you see her wink at him before she leaves. Only then does Curtis finally give his girlfriend some attention. You stand there, awkwardly staring at your shoes for the next five minutes while they noisily kiss next to you.

“You still in a bad mood, sweetheart?” Curtis grins once the two of them finally break apart.

“She’s always in a bad mood,” Wanda interjects before you can respond, “Hey, Curtis, you wanna check out the new drive-in theatre downtown? I don’t have any more classes today and I know you don’t either.”

Curtis yawns, “I don’t know. I kinda just wanna chill today.”

“Oh. That’s fine too, I guess. You wanna just grab lunch on campus?”

“Nah. I think I’ll just head back home. I have stuff to do.”

Wanda nods, “Okay, can I come too?”

He shrugs, “Sure. If you must.”

They start towards the exit, and you have no choice but to follow them. But when Wanda stops to talk to one of the girls in her Philosophy class, Curtis shoots you a smirk.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you come back to my place too?”

You frown, “What would I do in your room with you and Wanda?”

The spark in his eye is nothing short of devilish, “I could think of a few things the three of us could get up to.”

“You’re disgusting, Curtis.”

“You sure about that? I have some more of those magic pills you’re such a huge fan of. The three of us could have some fun.” His eyes rake over your body brazenly, and you feel the urge to throw up. So, it was true. All men viewed you as an easy hook-up. A slut. Ari, Steve, now Curtis too.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Wanda is your girlfriend and you should have more respect for her.”

He rolls his eyes, “You’re one to talk about respecting girlfriends.”

The jab stings, especially since it has a ring of truth to it. But you glare up at him nonetheless, “Fuck you.”

“Are you and Ari both perpetually in a bad mood these days or what?”

“I’m not speaking to Ari, so I wouldn’t know what kind of mood he’s in.” You answer curtly.

“He’s in a shitty mood, I’ll tell you that much,” Curtis snorts. “You’d think he’d be over the fucking moon after finally dumping Sharon, but now all he does is glare at his phone because you won’t answer his texts.”

Sure, Ari had been continuously texting and calling you for the past two days, but you’d gotten better at ignoring him. The last text you’d sent him was when you’d told him not to come over because Sharon was there.

“Are we ready to go, babe?” Wanda asks, waving goodbye to the girl from her Philosophy class.

Curtis stretches and grunts, “Yeah, let’s go,” He looks over at you, “You need a lift to wherever you’re headed?”

“No, she doesn’t!” Wanda interjects quickly, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the exit impatiently, “You wanted to be alone, didn’t you, Y/N?”

You shrug, “Sure.”

Watching them leave hand in hand, you stand there in a sea of people – and yet you feel more alone than ever. You know you need to snap out of this funk, but it’s so hard. Even now, as you look around, you can see about five different couples. All happily hanging out, talking, eating lunch together, kissing, holding hands. Would you ever experience anything normal like that?

You’re about to leave when someone grabs your wrist, yanking you sideways. You yelp, barely catching a glimpse of Ari’s brown waves before you’re pulled into an empty corridor.

“Ari! What the fuck–”

“Stop it with the ignoring my texts shit!” He spits out, eyes already blazing, “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“Let go of me.”

Surprisingly, he does. But he blocks your path with his huge frame, stepping in front of you every time you try to push past him. This continues for a solid minute and a half before you finally huff and give up trying to escape.

“I went to see Steve that night.” Ari says finally.

Your stomach churns at the mention of the blonde’s name.

“I don’t want to hear this.”

“He wasn’t at home. And the other guys in his frat wouldn’t say where he was,” he runs a hand through his hair, “But I’m guessing he was probably hiding out at his parent’s house.”

That was exactly where he was. You knew that.

“Please tell me you didn’t go there.”

Ari regards you closely, as if you’re made out of glass and he’s trying to formulate his sentences as carefully as he can. “I didn’t,” he says finally, sighing, “I was about to, but–”

“Good,” you interrupt, “I don’t need you fighting him or whatever. Not on my behalf.” You narrow your eyes, “How do you even know where his parents’ house is?”

He hesitates, “I don’t know off the top of my head, but I would’ve found out.” He grabs your hands, his blue eyes looking earnest, which is a look you aren’t used to seeing on him at all. “He’s clearly avoiding me, but look, the sooner you tell me what exactly happened between you and him, the sooner I’ll deal with it.”

From over his shoulder, you see a group of cheerleaders walk by. In a panic, you snatch your hands away from him. Was Sharon with them? Had she seen you with him? No. She wasn’t there. And yet now you feel more paranoid than ever.

“We can’t do this, Ari,” you mutter, trying to sidestep him again, “We can’t be seen together now or ever again, so just move so I can leave–”

“No.”

“Yes!” you try not to explode or lose your patience, “This isn’t right, okay? You and me, we’re not right. Sharon doesn’t deserve us going behind her back, she doesn’t–”

“I told you, I broke up with her.”

“That doesn’t make any of this okay, so just move!”

He doesn’t. Instead, he grabs your arm again, tugging you somewhere deep into the corridor before you have a chance to stop him or finish your sentence. And he’s too strong to fight against, so you don’t even try it. The last thing you want is to put any more attention on you or him. Even if Sharon wasn’t around, one of her friends could see you with him and report back to her. And after everything that happened with you and Sharon, you wanted to come clean to her yourself, rather than have her hear about you sleeping with her boyfriend behind her back from somebody else.

“The supply closet? Really, Ari?” You plant your hands on your hips, watching as he shuts and locks the door of the dimly lit room.

He shrugs, “If it’ll get you to stop running away from me...”

“Well, why can’t you just get the message? I’m running for a reason.” You try to push past him, but the closet is way too small to allow that type of movement. He easily grabs your waist and lifts you back in front of him, making you scowl. “Look, I don’t know what you expected would happen between us when you dumped Sharon, I already told you we’re done. She doesn’t deserve this.”

Ari has the audacity to look confused, “Since when do you care about her?”

“Since I developed a brain and realised what we did behind her back for months was wrong!” You explode, hating the fact that you have to spell this out for him. “You know that she came to my dorm room the day after you dumped her? She was a mess, Ari! All because of us, and she doesn’t even know it!”

 He sighs, “If you want, I could come clean to her and tell her it was you who I was sleeping with. You shouldn’t have to deal with that, it’s my problem, anyways.”

“No, you don’t say anything, Ari! I’m going to tell her myself.” Soon.

“Okay, but trust me, don’t worry about her too much. She’s a strong girl, she’ll bounce back.”

You stare at him incredulously. Strong girl? Bounce back? Oh, he was infuriating!

“Whatever, Ari.” You mutter, once more trying to push past him but he places you back in front of him with such ease that it’s almost comical.

“What happened to you that day with Steve?” He asks again, his brow furrowed.

“It’s none of your business.”

He scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. “You came home in tears with your dress all torn up and you expect me to just go about my business as if all that was nothing?”

“Yes. It shouldn’t be too hard for you considering you’ve left me in tears yourself a couple of times.” You think back to the frat party, how he’d left you drunk, high and in tears in the bathroom. By the guilt that flashes in Ari’s eyes, he remembers too.

“I told you I was sorry about that.”

You shrug, “Whatever. It doesn’t matter anyways. You used me, and Steve used me too.” Your voice almost breaks but you clear your throat quickly, not wanting to cry in front of him.

“What do you mean Steve used you?” Ari grabs your shoulders with a note of urgency. “Did he do something you didn’t want to do? Did he fuck you? Goddamit, I told you not to speak to him!”

Shaking out of his grasp, you feel another flash of anger. The same flash you’d felt surge through you the night you’d kicked Ari out of your dorm room. A part of you wants to start yelling and screaming again, but you know you can’t do that here.

“What does it matter, anyways?” You snap, feeling the walls building up around you. Half of you wants to scream and the other half wants to curl up and cry. The two emotions swirl inside you like a whirlpool, making you feel lightheaded.

A handful of seconds go by and all Ari does is stare at you. You can hear him breathing hard, almost erratically, as if deciding his next move. Finally, he bends down so his face is level with yours, his hands leaving your shoulders to cup your cheeks instead. His eyes, so bright blue despite the dark mustiness of the supply closet, bore into yours so intensely.

“Did. He. Fuck. You?”

“No.”

“Did he hurt you?”

You don’t answer, instead staring at the dark nothingness beyond Ari’s shoulder. Maybe if you focused on it hard enough, you could dissociate and float away from this situation. Float away from anyone else who could hurt you or use you or manipulate you. Float away from the guilt, the shame, the sadness, all of it.

Instead, you feel the wind being knocked out of you as Ari roughly pushes you against what feels like a shelf. The wooden edges poke against your back, and your mouth curls in pain.

“Listen to me. I’m not fucking around anymore, okay? You need to tell me what happened right fucking now.” Ari growls, his face inches from yours. It seems like someone’s ignited a fire in his eyes, twin fires – one burning bright in each eye, and you can practically feel the heat of his anger radiating from his being.

“You’re hurting me!” You cry out pitifully.

Like a hot poker, Ari drops you immediately, regret seeping through his features before he takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just…” He pauses, and for a second his whole face screws up and contorts, like he’s inwardly examining every corner of his brain to conjure up the right thing to say. “Look, I care about you. A lot. And these past two days have been torture, knowing that he did something to you and I couldn’t protect you.”

He sounds sincere, but you know it’s all an act. He doesn’t mean it, he’s only trying to be nice so he can have sex with you later, the voice inside your head cackles.

“So just tell me what he did, and I’ll–”

 “WHAT PART OF IT DO YOU WANT TO KNOW, ARI?” You burst, “What part of the whole ugly thing would you like me to relive first? The part where he promised he’d take me out on a date but he took me to his bedroom instead?” You duck your head in shame, “I suppose I should be used to that by now, but I was stupid enough to let myself hope.”

Ari draws his breath but stays silent.

“Or would you rather I tell you everything he said? Down to the last fucking detail? How he basically implied that I was the world’s biggest slut?” This time, you can’t keep the tears at bay. “H-He said… He said I should stop acting like a nun because I had no problem with you fucking me at the party!”

You don’t mention the part where Steve had also said you’d had no problem spreading your legs for Steve too the night of the party. You have yet to come to terms with and address that little detail, and so you push it back to the depths of your mind for now. Ari couldn’t know about that, not when you didn’t know yourself.

Instead, your face crumples up, and before you realise it, you’re heaving with tears. Waterfalls pouring down your cheeks as you cry and cry. You don’t even notice Ari picking you up, you don’t notice him sitting down on a nearby stool and holding you in his lap. Carefully holding your head against his chest, rocking you back and forth as his other hand rubs up and down your back.

So much for all your bravado, so much for keeping up a strong front and resisting Ari at all costs. Here you were again, crying in his arms like you always ended up doing.

“H-He was so awful!” you sob, burying your head deep in Ari’s shirt, inhaling the manly scent of his aftershave, and it calms your hurting heart a little bit. But not enough. “He said all these mean things, and he…he wouldn’t stop, Ari! I k-kept saying no, but he wouldn’t listen at all! It was like something came over him!”

You fist the soft material of Ari’s jersey, taking comfort in the feel of his strong arms wrapped tightly around you. His familiar, manly scent and his soft hair tickling your face as he holds you carefully against him. And despite everything, you can’t help but note how strange this is. Of course, Ari had held you while you cried about a dozen times – but this seemed different. For one, he wasn’t cooing sweet manipulations into your ear. He was just… silent. You risk peaking up at him through teary eyes, to see him looking straight ahead with a grim look on his face, the beginnings of a sneer forming on his lips.

“It’s okay,” Ari says softly, his voice sounding thick as if there’s something stuck in his throat. Was this what true, earnest sympathy sounded like coming from him? Or was it all just an act? You’re too busy crying and seeking solace in his warm chest to really mull it over, and the beefy basketball player continues to stroke your back, “It’s okay, baby. He won’t hurt you anymore. I promise he won’t.”

“JUST SAY IT ALREADY! Just say ‘I told you so!’” You sob, “He didn’t care about me at all, Ari! Just like you said. He was just using me. He just wanted sex, or to get back at you, or both!”

He doesn’t say I told you so. Instead, his lips press down on top of your head, kissing you gently. And you know you should push him away, but you reason with yourself to hold on to him just for a little bit longer. Just till you felt a little bit better. Was that so wrong?

“He won’t hurt you again,” Ari repeats firmly, now cupping your face with both his hands so you look him dead in the eye.

“He scared me so bad, Ari!” you sniffle, “H-He punched a wall when I said I wanted to leave, and then…and then he wouldn’t let me go!”

Ari mutters something unintelligible under his breath, before using the corner of his sleeve to wipe your cheeks. “How did you get him to stop?”

“I couldn’t. But thankfully, his sister was there and she stopped him.”

Ari freezes, “His sister?”

“Yes.”

“Did she say anything to you?”

“Not really,” you look down at your hands. Recounting the whole horrific ordeal with Steve had caused them to start shaking, and you grip at your skirt to get them to stop. Before you know it, Ari’s larger hands cup your own, holding them in place on your lap, stilling them, calming you.

“Well, don’t worry,” Ari says firmly, “he won’t touch you ever again. I’ll make sure of it.”

His face looks earnest, sincere. A large part of you feels comforted by him, but there’s also a dwindling doubt in the back of your mind. A little speck of mistrust growing larger and larger, fuelled by all the times he’s hurt you. Fuelled by how Steve had hurt you. Despite the fact that you don’t want to, you snatch your hands out of his and shoot up off his lap as if he’s shot you. No. You weren’t going to do this again. You weren’t going to fall for his false promises. Not this time.

“Stop lying,” you say shakily, backing away from him slowly. “You don’t care about me so stop pretending like you do. You just want me for sex, and you’re angry that someone else got close to having me like that too. But you don’t actually care about me or how I feel, Ari, so just stop lying!”

He stands up too, frowning, “I’m not lying. I dumped Sharon. I’ve been texting and calling you this whole time. Hell, I’m standing inside a fucking supply closet just to get a minute alone with you. What part of that says I don’t care?”

“You don’t care,” you repeat softly, “It took me a while to realise it, but now I do. All I’m good for is sex.”

“That’s not true–”

“Yes it is!” You cry, “Remember all the times I begged to be your girlfriend and you came up with a bullshit excuse each time? It’s because you knew that I wasn’t worth anything more than a hook-up for you!” You shake your head bitterly, “God, you must’ve been laughing behind my back at how stupid and naïve I was for expecting more from you. Steve’s probably laughing too. You’re both the same and I’m not going to let you or him or anyone else hurt me ever again! So, for the love of God, just leave me alone!”

You turn to leave, but Ari grabs your hand.

“What’s it going to take to show you that I care about you? Because I’ll do it.”

You don’t turn back around, waiting two long seconds before you tug your hand out of his grip. But you do open your mouth to respond – except nothing comes out. Instead, you sigh. There was really nothing more left to say, was there? Except perhaps just one more thing…

“Nothing, Ari. People don’t just change overnight. Especially not people like you.”

You step out of the supply closet, carefully shutting the door behind you and finally walking away. And hopefully this time, it’s for good.

***

Ari: WTF. Why did you change your lock???

Ari: Stop avoiding me.

Ari: If you weren’t so hellbent on ignoring me, you’d know that I have changed. Just give me a chance to prove it to you.

Ari: ???????

Ari: Steve’s still dodging me, by the way. Me and Curtis went over to his frat house but he wasn’t there again. Clearly, he’s afraid of me, but don’t worry. I promise I’ll make him pay for what he did.

The days go by, and Ari continues to text you daily all while you lock yourself up in your room and pretty much avoid the outside world. And his last text makes you want to tear your hair out. Why couldn’t Ari just butt out of your life and stop trying to fight Steve on your behalf!? You’d never asked for that; you didn’t want that! You just wished the whole ordeal with Steve had never even happened, you wished you could will it out of existence.

And speaking of Steve, he still texted you too. Not as frequently as Ari, which made him better at taking a hint than he was at planning first dates. But you still received a message from him every now and again…

Steve: I get it. I fucked it all up.

Steve: I need to see you again. I’ll make it right. Please.

And sure, there was a tiny part of you that did want to hear Steve out. But you were afraid of him, afraid of what he’d do or say. Plus, he’d literally lied to you, pretended he was interested in having a relationship with you when really, he just wanted sex. So, who was to say he wouldn’t lie again? Oh God, everything felt so wrong, how could he possibly make anything right!?

And why couldn’t you just block them both and move on!? You wish you could, yet you can’t find it in you to block or delete either of their numbers. Not Ari’s, and not even Steve’s. Maybe it’s the naïve little girl inside you, the insecure little girl who wants to hold on to the only male attention she’s ever gotten – despite the fact that your relationships with both men had gone up in smoke. And so you settle with just muting and archiving their chats. Out of sight, out of mind – except not really. But it’s the best you can do for now.

And you feel more alone now than ever. With Wanda always preoccupied with Curtis, you had nobody to confide your heartbreak in. But ironically, you began to grow closer with Sharon. On the rare occasions you actually left your dorm room and made it into campus for your lectures, she always seemed to find you. You realised quickly that she no longer hung out with her usual cheerleader friends. Either she herself had opted to leave them, or they’d decided to leave her because she was no longer the basketball captain’s girlfriend. Either way, you didn’t ask.

“It’s probably one of them,” Sharon mutters darkly one day as the two of you walk past a gaggle of cheerleaders, “The bitch he was cheating on me with. It’s probably one of them.”

You gulp. You had yet to come clean to her – but you could never find the right moment. And as time went by and she started spending more and more time with you, it got even harder to just drop the bomb and be like, oh hey, by the way! That bitch who your boyfriend cheated on you with? That was me!

But apart from all that, Sharon was good company. Both of you were dealing with heartbreak (she seemed to be dealing with hers better than you were dealing with yours), and so there was a kind of understanding between the two of you. Not to mention, hanging out with her turned out to be useful in keeping Ari away from you. Any time he spotted you on campus, he’d start making a beeline for you before freezing when he realised you were with her.

“You know, I think I figured out why both Ari and Steve treated us the way they did.” Sharon pipes up one day whilst the two of you are leaving campus. “It’s because we’re too nice.”

“Hm?” You barely utter a word, just wanting to get home and wallow in bed. You hadn’t told Sharon the extent of what had happened between you and Steve on your “date.” All she knew was that it was over, and you never wanted to speak to him again.

“Yeah, it’s because we’re too nice. Bad bitches don’t get their hearts broken, but nice girls always do.” She says, unscrewing her lip gloss and touching up her lips. Unlike you, she’d gotten some of her pep back since her breakup. In a way, you were glad. You’d rather her be happy than you – she deserved it after getting cheated on. 

You manage to laugh cynically, which eggs the blonde on as she continues.

“I’m serious. From here on out, let’s promise not to take any shit from anyone. That way, no one can hurt us again.”

No one hurting you ever again? That sounded like a dream. You knew you could be naïve at times, especially months ago when Ari had first started hooking up with you. Back then, you really thought you’d hit the jackpot and found yourself the perfect boyfriend. Now, months later, it was like you’d mentally matured at rapid speed. Could you be tougher now? Stop being the stupid, naïve little girl that kept getting played by men?

“That’s easier said than done,” you remark softly.

Sharon shrugs, “It’s worth a shot. I think if you act like an ice queen well enough, people are gonna know not to fuck with you. So, like, next time Steve tries to approach you or sweet-talk you into taking him back, just act like you couldn’t care less. Keep a strong resolve, he’ll get the message.”

You think back to all the times in the past you’ve tried to keep a strong resolve. Not with Steve, but with Ari. And every single time, you’d ended up crumbling and crying in his arms. Giving him the perfect opportunity to manipulate you again. Would the same thing happen with Steve? Who could be extremely charming and angelic when he wanted to be? You hoped not…

Turns out you don’t have to wonder that for too long. Because as you walk up to your dorm building after parting ways with Sharon, you see Steve sitting on the stairs of the entrance. He stands up quickly when he spots you, and your heartbeat quickens. Oh no, why was he here!?

“I didn’t mean to ambush you,” Steve calls out when you stop dead in your tracks a few feet away from him. “But you wouldn’t return any of my calls.” He starts making his way over to you, and you remain frozen in place. Despite every cell in your body screaming for you to run.

“Please, stay away from me.” You mumble.

Steve stops short, holding his hands up defensively, “I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to apologise.” His face softens, and you notice how he’s got a bit of facial hair now, like he hasn’t shaved since you last saw him. His hair looks scruffier too. He’s also got dark circles under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept. In fact, in his black hoodie (the hood up) and black sweats, he looks about as depressed as you feel.

“Sorry, I’m not interested in your apology.” You stick your nose up and resume walking, trying your hardest to follow Sharon’s advice and be the stone-faced ice queen who didn’t let anything phase her.

Steve, of course, follows you up the steps and into your building.

“I wasn’t thinking straight that day in my bedroom. Sometimes I get like that.”

“I don’t care.” You try to sound nonchalant, but now you’re a bit scared. What if he followed you all the way up to your room? Forced his way inside? Locked the door and had his way with you like how he’d tried to last time? There was no Kira here to pacify him, either… Abruptly, you turn around, trying to keep your voice from shaking, “Steve, please don’t follow me inside.”

He bites his lip, looking every bit as handsome as he always did. Which sucked, because he deserved to have somehow become ugly after how horrible he’d been the last time you’d seen him. But no such luck, he still looked angelic. A bit dark and twisted and scruffy, but angelic nevertheless.

“But I need to explain to you why I acted the way I did.”

A bitter chuckle forces itself out your mouth, fear momentarily forgotten. “I know why you acted the way you did. You wanted sex, and you thought I was so naïve and easy, that I would easily provide it for you. And when I didn’t, you lost it.

“No, that’s not it at all!”

You jump at his tone, but try to keep your expression unfazed. “Well, I don’t care and I’m not interested.”

He clenches his fists, his jaw tensing too. But he relaxes when he notices the way your eyes widen in fear, and how you take a few steps back.

“Please, fuck, just don’t be scared of me.” He holds his hands up defensively again, and this time, you notice one of them is bandaged up. The one he punched the wall with. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“No, you already did that, Steve.” You turn back around and continue walking up to your dorm room, trying so hard to appear nonchalant.

“I’m not the best at controlling my emotions, okay?” He calls out behind you, and the steady patter of his footsteps reveals he’s still following you as you go up the stairs of your building. “My parents, they’ve made me see a bunch of doctors for it, and lately I’ve been able to cope but I’ll admit, something inside me snapped that day, and I took it out on you when I shouldn’t have, and–”

 “DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME? I SAID I’M NOT INTERESTED IN ANYTHING YOU HAVE TO SAY!” You reach your door before angrily whipping around, “Just leave me alone, alright? I don’t care if you’re sorry, it doesn’t take back the fact that you lied and made it seem like you wanted to date me when really all you wanted was sex! Not to mention, all the vile things you said and how scary you got. Now just leave me the fuck alone!”

Quickly, you slip inside your room and slam your door shut, locking it at lightning speed. Steve calls out your name, he knocks, he rattles your doorknob. And all you do is lean against the door, breathing fast and willing yourself not to cry. It was okay, he wouldn’t hurt you. There was a locked door between the two of you.

“(Y/N), please. Just give me another chance,” Steve knocks again, “I know I acted like a complete asshole, okay? I knew it the second I snapped out of it. And I really didn’t mean to say all those things.”

You feel that sudden flash of anger again. Bolting through you like lightning. After everything he’d said to you, after he’d forced himself on you… The best he could come up with was “I was an asshole and I didn’t mean it,”!? No, you couldn’t let him get off that easily. There were things that needed explaining and questions that needed to be answered.

Before you can think better of it, you throw the door back open. Of course, he’s still standing there, and you muster up the toughest, most ice queen-esque expression you can possibly make.

“Fine. We can talk.” You fold your arms over your chest, “But you need to answer me honestly. So don’t try to lie or manipulate me.”

Steve nods immediately, “Okay. Thank you.” He steps forward, as if he’s trying to get into your room. You quickly raise a hand up.

“No. Out here.” You don’t feel comfortable being in a bedroom alone with him. You take a deep breath, “You said that I spread your legs for you the night of the party. What did we do? And don’t lie.”

“We hooked up.” Steve meets your steely gaze evenly, before shaking his hoodie off his head and running a hand through his scruffy hair. It’s gotten long enough that the ends are starting to curl up, kind of like how Ari’s do – not that that was relevant at all right now. “In the cab when I was taking you home. We didn’t have sex, but we hooked up and I got you off.”

You wrack your brain, willing yourself to remember that night. But all you can muster up are fragmented pieces of memory. In the car with him, and you remembered how good he’d smelled. You remember his varsity jacket, and how it had somehow ended up around your shoulders. But… what else? Oh! You remember being in his lap, you remember the car hitting some bumps, and… Oh.

You nod slowly, “So then why did you lie? At the practice game, when you could’ve mentioned what happened?”

Steve exhales, “I did, but you were all confused. I thought you’d remember, but when I realised you didn’t, I just… Well, I don’t know why I didn’t say anything. I just… didn’t.”

For a guy who was so hell bent on explaining things to you, his explanations sure did suck.

You laugh bitterly, “No, you were too busy flaunting me in front of Ari’s face during that practice.” God, how could you have been so stupid!?

“Look, I said I’d answer everything and tell you the whole truth,” He shifts from one foot to the other, scratching his neck as if debating whether to say what he’s about to say, “And yes, I’ll admit that a part of me was using you to get to Ari.”

It feels like a punch to your gut. You’d suspected it, but the fact that he was so readily confirming it made it all the worse. With just a few words, Steve had confirmed all your insecurities. Not only did he not want to date you, not only was he just using you for sex… Oh no, as if that wasn’t enough, he’d also been using you as a pawn in whatever sick, longstanding rivalry he had with Ari.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

“Please don’t cry,” Steve steps forward, closing the gap between the two of you. And you’re so distraught by the bomb he’s dropped on you, that you don’t even try to run away from him. Instead, you lean against the door, breathing heavily, trying to keep your tears at bay.

He continues, “This is me being honest, alright? Something Ari never is with you. And yes, I wanted him to be jealous, I wanted to get a rise out of him, so I flaunted you in front of him. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t care about you. I still care about you.”

“How can you possibly say you care about me after everything you’ve just admitted?” You manage to get out as you try to get your breathing back into order.

“Because I do care! I think I’d know what I’m feeling better than you would!” He’s growing visibly frustrated. “Fuck, sorry. I’m so bad at explaining shit.” He smacks his forehead hard several times and yet you don’t even have it in you to flinch.

“Goddamit, look, I’ll start from the beginning.” He takes a few, gulping breaths. “When I first saw you at the party, it had nothing to do with Ari, I didn’t even know that you knew him. I approached you that night because you looked cute and lost, and I liked how feisty and sweet you were–”

“That’s a lie!” You wipe at your eyes roughly, “That’s a fucking lie, Steve. Aren’t you forgetting what you said last time you saw me? You knew what Ari and I did that night, you called me a slut for spreading my legs for him in the middle of a party! And you expected I’d do the same for you.”

“No, that’s not it at all!”

He gulps as if trying to get his breathing even once more, and you realise that’s his way of calming himself down. And you can tell that he’s trying, that he’s trying so hard not to have a meltdown like last time, and you just look at him apprehensively. You know you could back away at any moment, slam the door in his face again and lock it and be done with him. And yet, your feet remain planted in place, as if a part of you just has to hear him out.

“I’m sorry I called you a slut. It’s all a big fucking blank in my head, like I blacked out and said all those things. And I never saw you and Ari fucking at the party or anything like that. I only found that out days later through the grapevine. But I shouldn’t have used it against you, that was wrong of me. I’m sorry I fucked it all up by saying that. You didn’t deserve it.”

You shake your head but he hurriedly continues, “I was always going to ask you out, Ari or no Ari. It’s only when I saw how jealous he got when he saw you with me, that I realised how much he liked you. That he liked you more than he liked his own girlfriend. That’s when I realised I could be with you and get back at him at the same time.”

Get back at him!? For what? Did you even care, at this point?

Anger. Fear. Confusion. Pure fucking discombobulation. That’s what you feel. So much so, that you don’t even know what to say or how to act.

Steve takes your lack of response as his cue, moving forward and reach out to cup the side of your face slowly. And you fucking hate how soft and warm his hand feels, how it’s bigger than your whole head yet feels gentle at the same time. Gentle, when the last time he’d had his hands on you, he’d been holding you down on his bed while he tried to force himself on you.

“But I like you too,” Steve says quietly, almost like a whisper, “I like you more than he ever could. And whenever I like something, whenever I have something good in my life, I always fuck it up. But this time, for once in my life I want to make things right.”

“I kept telling you to stop,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut as the memories from that night barge their way back into your head. “Y-You ripped my dress.”

“I’m so sorry, baby girl.”

“You wouldn’t stop, Steve. It’s like you weren’t there, like something came over you and you weren’t there anymore.”

He nods fervently, his fingers stroking your cheek, “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I can’t help that I’m like this, I really fucking wish I could be normal and react normally to things like how other people do. I wish it more than anything in the fucking world.”

It’s like he’s a completely different man from the one you’d first met and thought you knew. The man who’d been so shrouded in mystery, oozing with confidence and charm. His intense aura, the smoothness with how he’d spoken to you in the past. But in this moment, it’s like all of that had melted away. And here he was, stripped back. Rough round the edges with bags under his eyes, an earnest look on his face. And this time when you look into his eyes, for a moment it’s like you really see him; you see someone fighting to be normal, desperate for another chance. Oh, should you…?

And then you blink. And there it is again: Steve, the very same man, saying all those vile things to you. All because you wouldn’t fuck him. Him ripping your dress, him holding you down. Him losing his temper. Him punching the wall. The way he’d held you so hard, not letting you leave. That dark, faraway look in his eyes. How scared you’d been… And here you were, letting him cup your face and speak all tenderly with you!?

What if he got like that again?

It’s like a lash of electricity jolts through you. You push Steve away hard.

“Listen to me carefully, Steve, because I’m not gonna say this again. You’re not who I thought you were. You lied about what happened on the night we met, and you lied about your intentions with me. It doesn’t matter if you say you wanted to date me, because your past actions speak louder than whatever words you’re saying now.” You take a deep breath, “That’s why I want you to leave me alone. Forever. Just walk out right now and never look back. Because I’m done with you. And I really, truly mean it.”

He freezes, an unreadable expression on his face. A myriad of emotions flitter through his eyes. Shock, sadness, anger. Disbelief. Resignation. And then…

“And what about Ari?” He says quietly, “You’re choosing him?”

“No, I–”

Steve spits out a bitter laugh, as if he wasn’t gently cupping your face and promising you everything just five seconds ago.

“You don’t know him, (Y/N). Okay fine, I wasn’t completely honest with you and I guess that means I’ve fucked things up between us forever. But you think Ari hasn’t lied to you?”

“I know he’s lied–”

“YOU DON’T KNOW THE HALF OF IT!” Out of nowhere, he raises his voice. And it cuts you like a sword, reverberating off the walls. You flinch at the booming loudness of his words, the aggressiveness back on his angelic face and now he’s scaring you again. “You don’t know what he’s done, okay!?”

“You’re scaring me.”

You try to say it calmly, but your voice breaks right at the end. Steve blinks rapidly, several times. Breathing hard, he looks down at his fingers which are enclosed tightly around your arm. Just like that day in his room. Like a hot poker, he drops it immediately. And again, it’s like he’s waking up from some sort of a momentary trance. Or rather, a momentary wave of anger.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats in a low tone, “but if you knew the things he’s done, you wouldn’t have picked him–”

“I HAVEN’T PICKED HIM!” It’s your turn to explode. “I didn’t pick him, Steve. This isn’t about picking anyone. I’m done with you, and I’m done with Ari too. I’m picking neither of you. Goodbye.”

You turn around and slam your door shut before he can get another word out.

***

“It’s like, a fundraising gala type thing held at the Hilton. The money raised gets split down the middle, half going towards the basketball team and half towards the cheerleaders,” Sharon explains, twirling a piece of her blonde hair around her finger. “Which, by the way, I think is totally lame, because the basketball team doesn’t even need any more funding. Unlike the cheerleaders.”

She swivels around in your desk chair, her sock clad feet waving around in the air. Outside, the sun sparkles and a gentle breeze flows in through your window. The weather had been great lately, as if the atmosphere knew you’d finished the final chapter of the Ari and Steve saga and closed the book on both of them. As if nature itself was willing you to go outside and begin your new chapter, one where you were sexy and single and thriving.

So then why could you still not find it in you to step outside of your room on most days?

“I’ve been on the planning and decorating committee for the Athletic Society’s Annual Gala for the past two years,” Sharon continues, “it’s like, one of the biggest events of the year. All these important sports execs and school alumni show up, not to mention half the college. Wanda, I’m guessing you’re going with Curtis, right?”

“Huh?” Wanda glances up from her phone for a split second, looking as if she has not the slightest clue what Sharon is on about. Burying her nose back into her screen, her acrylics start tapping ferociously. And it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to guess who she’s texting. In fact, you were surprised when she’d showed up alongside Sharon outside your dorm room this morning. It was very hard to pin down Wanda lately, since all her time was devoted to her boyfriend.

Sharon raises an eyebrow before shifting her attention back to you, “Well anyways, I think this would be a great opportunity for you to get out of your funk, Y/N. We could go together! As friends, obviously.” She adds hastily.

You manage to muster up a smile, “I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on! It’s been weeks since you ended things with Steve!” Sharon says, and you no longer shiver when his name is mentioned. It’s like the last confrontation you had with him cleared up the fog in your head a little bit. It still depressed you to the core, to know that you’d been used, but at least you didn’t flinch at his name anymore. That was something.

He’d also stopped texting you at all anymore. Which you should be happy about, and yet you still found yourself looking at your chat with him. God, what was wrong with you!? He’d finally left you alone just like how you’d wanted him to, and yet a part of you still felt like it was yearning for him.

“And I know how much you love dressing up and doing your makeup. Hey, we could even go shopping together for dresses!” The blonde claps her hands, clearly unaware of your current inner turmoil as she works herself up into a frenzy.

“We could make it into a proper girl’s night,” She sits on the other end of your bed with a bounce, “Hey, Wanda, why don’t you get ready with us too? You could always just meet Curtis there.”

Wanda scoffs, “Uh, no. I think I’ll go with my boyfriend, thank you very much.”

Sharon rolls her eyes, “Ugh. Fuck boyfriends. I was gonna go with Ari, but that’s obviously not happening anymore. Plus, a girl’s night sounds a lot more fun.”

Your poor, gullible, traitorous heart jolts. “Ari’s gonna be there?”

Unlike Steve, Ari was still texting you and trying to somehow see you in person. You’d successfully avoided him since the supply closet meeting. And yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about him either. God, were you just incapable of not thinking about the two fuckboys who had fucked your entire life up!?

“Yep, but it won’t bother me, I promise.” Sharon says determinedly, “The banquet hall is huge, so I’ll easily just avoid him. He’s probably gonna be super busy, anyways. Word has it that they’re giving him the Basketball MVP award this year.”

“Oh,” you breathe, before quickly clearing your throat, “I don’t know, Sharon. It sounds like fun, but–”

“Curtis says that he’s going to the gala with the basketball team, and that no one else is bringing dates,” Wanda interrupts you as she reads the latest text from her boyfriend. Finally, she looks up, “I guess I’ll go with you girls, then.”

“Great!” Sharon cheers, “You’re in too, right, Y/N?”

You smile, not really knowing what to say. Being in the same banquet hall as Ari and Sharon? At the same time? That was just trouble waiting to happen.

But is this how you were going to spend the rest of the college year? Letting your feelings towards Ari dictate where you went and didn’t go? You think about the old you, the one before Ari or Steve or anyone. The one who loved to dress up and go out to have fun. Before Wanda had got a boyfriend, the two of you used to go out all the time. Another girls’ night wouldn’t harm anyone, would it?

Sharon senses your hesitation, “Come on,” she urges, “It’s not like Steve’s even gonna be there. It’s strictly a St. Andrews’ event.”

You bite your lip. You doubted you’d ever see Steve again. Clearly, since he no longer texted you either. And a part of you is bittersweet as you think about what could have been. Absentmindedly, your eyes divert to your desk chair, where his blue and white varsity jacket still lies. You hadn’t even thought to throw it away. You bet it still smells like him…

Oh God, you had to get over him. Get over both of them and get the fuck out of this funk you were in. So what if Ari would be there too? This was your chance to prove to yourself that his presence didn’t make a difference in how you lived your life.

You take a deep breath, “Okay. I’ll go.”

***

 PART II

“Open up, sleepyhead. I’m not leaving and I’ll camp outside your door if you don’t open it.”

You’d woken up the next day to a loud knocking on your door. And you’d tried to ignore him. You really had. It was so much easier to just remain in bed, rotting and feeling sorry for yourself despite the promise you’d made yourself to get over the two men who’d betrayed your trust, and get out of the funk you were in. But the knocking was incessant, going from soft-knuckled raps to full on banging. You were sure he’d wake up your entire building, and then you’d have to pay a noise fine.

That’s why I’m opening the door, you think to yourself. Not because I actually want to see him.

And there’s Ari, standing outside your door with a picnic basket under his arm. And he looks kind of funny, his big athletic self holding such a dainty little thing. He also looks extremely pleased with himself, and you don’t even have the energy within you to argue with him or tell him to leave. You and him had gone non-contact ever since the confrontation inside the supply closet. Or rather, you’d gone non-contact whilst Ari tried to find ways to talk to you. He couldn’t corner you on campus anymore because you were usually with Sharon, and you’d changed your locks so he couldn’t exactly barge into your dorm room like how he used to.

“Go away, Ari.”

“Hey, nice to see you too. I come bearing food, because I know you haven’t eaten. And don’t ask me how I know, I just know.” Ari says breezily, and you frown at how chipper he’s acting. As if the last time you’d seen him you hadn’t stormed away and told him the two of you could never see each other again.

He follows you inside, and you quickly swipe Steve’s varsity jacket under your desk so he doesn’t see it. You don’t know why you still haven’t thrown it out but you really can’t be bothered to get into another fight with Ari over it.

Earlier in the day, Sharon had texted you asking if you’d wanted to hang out. You’d declined, finding the comfortability of your bed and the prospect of watching old reruns of trashy reality television much more interesting. What you hadn’t expected was Ari Levinson of all people showing up at your door, however. Although, you’re not too surprised. He was still texting you nonstop, wanting to show you how he’d “changed.”

Ari plops the picnic basket on top of your desk, and you sigh, sitting down on your desk chair while he grabs a stool. You already know how this is going to go. He’d tell you to open it, you’d say no, he’d say yes, you’d say no again. Then he’d open it and make you see the contents anyways. You decide to stop wasting either of your time and look inside the basket yourself.

“Cheese sandwiches?”

“Uh huh. And don’t knock it till you try one, sweetheart. My mom makes these for me.” Ari winks before flashing you a smile. And doesn’t contain even a hint of his usual cockiness or smugness – it’s just a regular little smile that makes his eyes light up all pretty too. And you’re not used to it at all, it looks almost displaced on his face. Was he being genuine? You can’t even tell anymore. But probably not.

You pick one up and eye it carefully, and your heart can’t help but throb at the thought of him standing in his kitchen making it for you. Big, bad basketball captain fuckboy Ari Levinson carefully cutting the sandwich into little triangles and packing it up for you in this little picnic basket. How had Ari even gotten hold of a picnic basket to begin with?

“So, it’s a family recipe?” You take a cautious bite.

“Yep. Passed down from generation to generation. Don’t ask me how you make it because it’s a Levinson family secret,” he grabs a sandwich of his own and wolfs it down in two bites, “I mean, you could always become a Levinson yourself and have my kid, then I’d tell you.”

Your cheeks heat up. Oh, a few weeks ago he didn’t even want a relationship with you and now he was joking about marriage and kids?! Would you ever understand him?

“It must be some recipe,” you remark, trying your best to keep your tone even and unamused. Instead of looking at him, you observe the sandwich. It tastes good – he’s used some type of expensive artisan bread and fancy cheese. A step above your average grilled cheese, and it tastes even better on an empty stomach since he was right, you hadn’t eaten anything since last night.

“It is. Have another one,” he thrusts another sandwich in your hand.

Your frown, “Ari, stop, I don’t want–”

“You haven’t eaten all day, (Y/N).” His tone drops, growing more serious.

“Well, stop acting like you care!” You shoot back.

But Ari looks unperturbed as he helps himself to a third sandwich (he was going through them remarkably fast), “I do care.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“Yes, I fucking do,” he says, the slight sharpness in his voice taking you aback. “What other girl have I cooked for and lugged a fucking picnic basket halfway across campus for?”

You settle back begrudgingly, taking another bite out of the sandwich, “I’d hardly call this cooking.”

You know you sound mean and bitter, but it’s like you can’t help it. Like there’s a deep black hole filled with anger still swirling within you. Anger at both Ari and Steve and you don’t know how to sort through it or make it go away.

“Oh yeah? Well, you’ve never cooked for me so I’d say you’re hardly an expert on the subject.” Ari shoots back, grabbing another sandwich from the picnic basket as well as a can of soda. “You want a coke?”

“No.”

You start tearing your sandwich into tiny pieces just so you have something else to focus on and you don’t have to look at his face. Because you’re afraid this newfound earnesty of his, afraid it would reel you back in hook, line and sinker. Afraid he was just putting on an act to convince you he’d “changed.” That’s also why you’re being cold – you can’t let your walls down with him again. Not this time. Not when Sharon was literally your friend now.

“So, I was thinking we could catch a movie after we eat,” Ari continues talking all casually as if the majority of the conversation so far hasn’t been extremely one-sided. “Have you seen the new Godzilla vs Kong? Probably not, you’re not into stuff like that.” He pauses only to consume his sandwich in two huge bites, before grabbing another one. His voracious appetite almost makes you smile. Almost. The only other times you’d seen him look this starved was when he was going down on you…

No, stop! Don’t think about that!

“Sure, we could watch some girly movie instead, but you’d have to pick it because I have no idea about shit like that, obviously–”

“I told you; we can’t go anywhere that Sharon or someone might see us. Besides, the last thing I want to do is go out with you. In fact, you can show yourself out now because I’m gonna go back to bed–”

Ari slams his coke can down on your desk with a loud clunk. You jump, before narrowing your eyes at him. First, he practically broke into your room, then forced you to eat his dumb sandwiches. Now he was making obnoxious noises? Oh, you were just about done with him–

“That’s it.” he grunts, standing up to his full height. You gape up at him, suddenly nervous. You barely have the chance to yelp before he grabs your arm, yanking you up with him.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!”

He lifts you up off the ground with ease, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You start pounding on his back immediately, but you only hear him snort in return.

“Put me down right now, Ari! I’m not in the mood for this! Put me down!”

“I gave you a pass to be a little sassy, but you need to remember who’s in charge.” He starts walking across the room. And you may as well have been an insect on his back with how unbothered he was by you wiggling and trying to fight out of his grip. Oh god, what was he going to do?!

Panic bubbles up in your chest, your heartrate increasing tenfold in about five seconds flat. You struggle harder against him, before realising there’s no use. He was way too strong. You shut your eyes and brace yourself; any moment now he’d throw you on the bed and have his way with you just like he always did, just like how Steve had tried to do, and you’d be powerless to stop him because you couldn’t stop anyone, and they all just wanted one thing, and–

“Please don’t,” you whisper, on the verge of tears, “Please, I can’t have sex. I don’t want to have sex, please don’t make me. Please, please don’t make me.”

Ari freezes, and you wish you could see his expression but in your current predicament, dangling over his shoulder, you cannot. But then he starts walking again, and he goes straight past your bed. That’s when you notice the picnic basket in his other hand.

“I’m not trying to sleep with you.” He mutters.

Oh. But then what was he doing?

You get your answer less than a moment later, when he swings your door open and carries you outside. That’s when you start punching his back again.

“Ari, take me back inside! I’m serious, okay? Someone’s gonna see–”

“Then I suggest you stop making so much noise that’s gonna attract attention towards us.” He shoots back, giving you a reprimanding pat on your thigh. Not your ass, you note, but your thigh. Immediately, you shut up. But you fix a scowl on your face, vowing you’d keep it there permanently until he could see it.

A minute later, he dumps you unceremoniously into the passenger seat of his car. By the time you scramble into sitting position, he’s already in the driver’s seat. The doors, predictably, are locked.

“So, it wasn’t enough that you barged into my dorm room uninvited. You felt the need to kidnap me, too?” You snap, irritated yet at the same time slightly amused. But you can’t let him know that. No, you had to maintain your ice queen persona.

“Please,” Ari snorts, starting up the car. “You were talking about going back to bed. If anything, I’m doing you a favour. It’s a nice day, sweetheart, let the sun shine on your face for a few hours.”

You deepen your scowl, crossing your arms over your chest, “I’m not going outside.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m literally not, Ari. Because you didn’t even think to let me put my shoes on.” You wiggle your bare toes, suddenly feeling the strong urge to smile at the ridiculousness of your whole predicament. But you pout to cover it up, suppressing whatever amusement you’re feeling because you don’t want him to see.

“Don’t fucking pout, it makes me want to kiss you.” Ari murmurs, keeping his eyes on the road but you can see him licking his lips.

“Don’t.”

“Did I say I was going to? I said I want to. There’s a difference.”

Again, you want to smile. You quickly turn your head away, looking out the window instead, watching the trees and buildings roll by as he drives you out of campus. “Whatever, just stay away from me.”

“Don’t be a brat.” There’s a warning edge to his tone, one that you’ve come to know very well. But surprisingly, you don’t feel unsafe. For once, you feel like maybe he won’t just stop the car in the middle of nowhere and try to fuck you.

You’ve been in Ari’s car before, and you’re no stranger to how it always goes when you’re in here. Back in the early days of you two hooking up, he’d pick you up in the dead of the night. And you were so innocent, you’d think of these midnight drives as romantic, magical even. He’d have a cigarette in his mouth, his long hair either slicked back or flowing in the cool night air. A wild look in his eyes as he’d pull you inside and kiss you headily while still trying to focus on the road. And he’d have one hand on your thigh, squeezing it before pushing his fingers between your legs.

In his hazy, smoke-filled car, you’d always find yourself underneath him. Splayed out in his backseat while he licked his lips and loomed above you. His dark silhouette so handsome, and you remember thinking how he was such a bad boy, and you were such a good girl, and how hot it was. He’d tell you how much he loved the tight little skirts you always wore, and yet he’d always rip them in half and then laugh and kiss you when you pouted. Tell you how he’d been waiting all day to fuck you, how he just couldn’t wait now that he had you, that he’d been thinking about you and him, that he just had to have you now.

You remember feeling like such a little girl compared to him. Ari was a senior after all, and you only a freshman. Once, you’d tried to impress him by wearing red lipstick. That night, he’d pulled you over the console and made you suck his dick. Till your red lip prints were all over his fat cock, and he’d told you how you were such a good girl, and he loved how cute you were, and that he knew you were trying to impress him.

 All those nights in his car, and you remember each time you’d ask him if he’d broken up with Sharon, and each time he’d tell you that he was “working on it.” That he didn’t see a future with her, that you were so much more special. “I can’t stop thinking about you and I,” he’d say, blue eyes dreamy and you thought he sounded so earnest. And eagerly you’d say the same, excited that someone like him could ever be that interested in someone like you.

And then he’d push you into the backseat, or he’d stay in the driver’s seat and pull you into his lap. Or sometimes, if the place you were parked at was secluded enough, he would take you on the hood of his car. Fuck you in every way imaginable, use your body for his pleasure whilst also giving you the most intense pleasure you’d ever felt. And sometimes, the moonlight would reflect off his eyes and make him look like something so special, and you’d feel so special, and you’d feel like you were in a movie. You still remember it now.

You doubt Ari does, though. You doubt those nights were ever special to him.

“Where are we?” You ask fifteen minutes later when he pulls up somewhere. You peer out the window and see trees – a bunch of them. He’s parked in a clearing, only a single dirt road leading up to it and the rest of the area covered in a thick forest of trees. The sun sparkles through the leaves, and you can hear birds chirping louder than you ever do back in the city. “Are we in the woods?”

“Yep.” He’s out of the car in an instant, grabbing the picnic backet which he’d thrown haphazardly into the backseat before making his way to your door. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“If you think I’m going to hike out into the woods barefoot–”

Ari scoffs, “Don’t worry your pedicured little feet off, princess,” he turns around, “Hop on.”

You eye him carefully, as if you’re assessing a threat. Going into the woods with Ari of all people may not be the best of gameplans for someone who was actively trying to avoid men in general. When Steve had forced himself on you, it had been in his room and luckily Kira had been nearby. The secluded woods, however, were a completely different story.

And yet, it’s like you know deep down that Ari won’t do anything. Not this time. Then again, you’ve been wrong about him before. Were you being naïve all over again?

Maybe you were, but you hop on to his back anyways. His muscular arms catch you easily as you wind your legs around his waist. Your arms lock around his neck and you nestle close to him instinctively. So close that you can smell his grape shampoo, and you admire how pretty his hair is, how it curls up slightly at the base of his neck like he’s a movie star or something.

You hate how you’re still so attracted to him.

He gives you a piggyback ride all the way into the woods, and it’s kind of neat being up so high. Ari was so tall, and with you on his back you felt like you were six foot six inches too. So this is what he sees, you think to yourself, finally indulging in the nature that surrounds the two of you. The way the oak trees soar up as high as skyscrapers, how the smaller trees sway with the breeze. The rustling of the leaves, and you think you hear a distant trickling of water, too.

“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” Ari breaks the comfortable silence, continuing to trek forward into the woods.

You’re about to heartily agree, before you remember the cold persona you’re meant to be adopting with him. So, in the dullest, most bored and nonchalant voice you can muster up, you say: “It’s whatever, I guess.”

He snorts.

You frown, “Are you laughing at me?”

“Nope.” He sounds amused.

“Yes, you are!”

“Well, it’s cute how you’re trying so hard to be something you’re clearly not.”

You’re thankful that he can’t see the way your jaw drops open, “And what exactly do you think I’m trying to be?”

He shrugs, inadvertently bouncing you up and down on his back.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I like this sassy side of you. Especially since I know you’re still the same naïve little baby on the inside.” He looks back at you, and you catch a glimpse of his glittering eyes, framed by those impossibly long eyelashes.

“I am not!”

Ari chuckles, “You can act as tough as you want, it amuses me how cute you look when you do it.”

You scowl, despite the fact that his constant flirting was starting to thaw you from the inside out, making your cheeks burn and your mind feel more muddled than ever. What was the truth and what was a manipulation? This was him just trying to win you over so he could fuck you, right?? Or maybe, maybe he genuinely liked you… Maybe–

You forcibly make yourself scowl again, “Fuck you.”

“Say that again and I’ll drop you,” He threatens.

“Don’t you dare!” You squeal, winding your arms tighter around his neck, almost choking him.

He snickers as if he’s cracked the funniest joke in the world, before continuing to walk. The two of you settle into another spell of comfortable silence. You take in all the bushes full of wild berries, the pretty flowers that are luckily in full bloom, scenting the air with a sweet fragrance that tickles your nostrils pleasantly. Another gentle breeze has you relaxing more against Ari, and you’re almost about to nuzzle your face against his strong shoulder before you catch yourself and freeze.

“I discovered this place last year,” Ari announces five minutes later, gently setting you down on a patch of vibrant grass. To your delight, only a few feet away from you is a stream! The water flows and sparkles in the afternoon sunlight, rushing over rocks and plants and making a pleasant trickling sound that has an oddly calming effect on you. And the grass feels nice against your toes, so much so that you don’t even mind your bare feet on the ground.

You don’t say anything, just watching as Ari settles down beside you with the picnic basket. You stretch your limbs out, secretly happy that he brought you out here, that you didn’t spend another day rotting in bed.

“I found this place last year,” Ari repeats, “A few of us were camping nearby and I hiked out further away to see if I could get cell reception. That’s when I found this place.” He leans back, lying down completely with his arms crossed behind his head, “It’s nice and private here, huh?”

A thought enters your head, jolting you down to the core, “Private? So, this where you brought Sharon? Or your other hookups?”

“No. You’re the first person I’ve ever brought here.”

The straightforwardness of his answer jars you, and you find you have no quip or jab to respond with. Instead, hesitantly, you lie down too. A few inches away from him, but he makes no move to grab you or pull you closer. A large part of you is relieved, but you want to strangle the tiny part of you that’s disappointed that he’s not touched you.

“It’s nice.” You say finally.

“Yeah, I come here sometimes. To admire the nature or whatever.”

That makes you pause, and you look at him incredulously. He’s lying there with his eyes closed, yet he’s got a completely straight face.

“You? Admiring nature?”

Ari scoffs, “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes, actually.” You can’t imagine Ari of all people, who only cared about basketball, partying and sex, to be one with nature. Unless it was weed. “What aspect fascinated you the most?”

There’s a long beat of silence.

“I don’t know, the plants and shit?”

You can’t help but burst out laughing. And it feels good, to just let go and laugh for a bit. To just forget about how shitty you feel and just laugh. Even if it’s just for a moment, to just forget about how awful Ari’s been to you in the past, how awful Steve turned out to be too, just forget it all and allow yourself to laugh. And you can’t even remember the last time you laughed.

“Haha, very funny,” Ari rolls his eyes, but you can see the slight smile playing on his lips before he clears his throat. “Alright fine, I couldn’t give a fuck about nature. But I do like this place, it’s good for when I need to think.” He hesitates, “When I was dating Sharon, I felt like I never had the space to really think, and so I’d come here.”

You cease your laughter immediately at the mention of her name. Now that you were friends with Sharon, it made it a lot harder to talk about her with Ari. Because now, she was actually a person to you rather than some distant illusion that you tried not to think about. And it wasn’t her fault that Ari felt he couldn’t think with her around. She wasn’t the villain here, Ari was.

You clear your throat, heart suddenly beating very fast. “C-Could I ask you a question? And please don’t lie, okay? Just be honest with me, Ari. For once.”

He nods, not saying anything else.

“Were there others?” You ask hushedly, your tone wavering slightly as you voice the thought you’ve never wanted to speak into existence, never even dared to wonder about. “Was I just one of many girls that you were cheating on her with?”

Ari sits up, rubbing his temple. You watch him carefully, watch how his eyes scrunch shut before opening. He blinks several times, his lips pressed into a thin line before they part and he exhales slowly. Then, he turns your way, looking you dead in the eye.

“No. There were other girls before you, but once I slept with you, it was only you from then on out.”

“Yeah, me and Sharon.” You say bitterly, although the guilt is eating you up inside. You feel guilty for even feeling hurt or bitter, because he was never yours to begin with. Sharon was the girlfriend – she had every right to feel hurt and bitter. You? You were just the other woman. All you should be feeling was guilt and shame. Especially since here you were, out alone with him again when you’d vowed yourself you wouldn’t do this.

You sit back up too, and he makes a move to grab your hand but you shuffle away quickly. You hug your knees, resting your chin against them as you huddle into yourself. You can feel his gaze penetrating holes into you, but you only focus on the steady flow of water in the stream.

“Even with Sharon, it didn’t feel right sleeping with her. Not after I’d been with you.”

 “Then why didn’t you break up with her?” Your voice breaks at the last second, and you turn away from him so he can’t see the lone tear that trails down one side of your face. Just a second ago you’d been laughing and now here you were, crying over the same question that had plagued your mind for months. The question that had been beaten to death, and yet you knew you’d never get a straight up, honest response.

Ari sighs, and you hear him moving closer to you. A second later, he takes hold of your chin, gently turning your face back to him.

“Hey, listen to me. I was an asshole, okay?” He sucks in a breath, closing his eye again for a handful of seconds. You want to look away but you can’t help but watch him, watch as he breathes, watch as he finally opens his mouth again. “Before you came along, I was this guy… This hotshot guy who could do whatever and everyone would just worship the ground I walked on. And, well, I guess I thrived on that. I liked how easily I could use women. I knew I had a girlfriend but I liked how I could get any girl to sleep with me–”

“I don’t want to hear this,” you mumble, pushing away from him.

“No, wait, I’m just trying to explain myself.” He runs a hand through his mane impatiently, “Look, I’ll admit it. All those times I strung you along, it was to feed my own ego. For a while, it felt like I was on top of the world, like I had two girls and neither of them knew any better, and–”

“Stop telling me this,” your voice hitches, more tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I was being a fucking asshole, that’s what I’m trying to say!” Ari grabs your hand as if to stop you from running away, a note of frustration in his tone. Or was it desperation? “I’ve never been good with voicing my feelings and all of that shit, but that’s what I’m trying to do right now. When I saw you with Steve, it’s like he was taking my girl, taking away everything I’ve always wanted. The night of the party, and then again at the game, when I saw you with him… It got me so fucking heated, and I’d never felt like that before. It felt like I was wasting my time in a relationship I clearly didn’t want to be in, and he was moving in on the girl I did want to be with.”

You look up at him, breathing heavily yet not daring to say a word.

“I’m sorry for lying to you, I’m sorry for using you. I’m sorry that it took you being with someone else for me to finally wake up and realise you’re the only one I’ve wanted this whole time.” His hand slips up to cup your cheek, and it’s like you’re frozen. You don’t know if you want to stop him or if you want to lean into his touch. You don’t know if this moment is even real. If this stream is real or if the woods are real or if Ari is real or if he really is saying everything you’ve ever wanted him to say.

“Why couldn’t you have said all this before?” You say shakily, afraid to look him in the eyes in case you see anything other than sincerity, in case you see even an inkling, even the tiniest spark of a hint that he was manipulating you.

“I was immature.” He continues to wipe your tears, before making you look up at him. “I was just so wrapped up in being the guy who could have any girl I wanted, but I promise you I’ve grown out of that now.”

“Really?” Your voice comes out so small, filled with hope mixed with a bit of hesitance.

Ari nods, “You said before that people don’t change overnight. But if you let me show you, I’ll prove to you that I have. And that I’m serious about us.”

Ice queen persona be damned. You feel more tears well up in your eyes. “Y-You are?”

“Yes. I wasn’t going to mention this but…” He runs a hand through his hair, brushing back a wayward lock that flops over his forehead, before taking hold of your hand, “There was an NBA scout at the last game. He said they want to sign me, that a lot of teams are eyeing me as a draft pick.”

Oh. The NBA. That put everything into perspective for you. He wasn’t like you, with three and a half years of college ahead of you. No, he was almost done… And then he’d be gone. You’re happy for him – the NBA was a huge deal after all. But you also feel a little sick, like time’s going by too quickly, like maybe you’re not ready to let go yet after all.

Your mind also briefly flits to Steve. Had he been approached by an NBA scout too? You think back to when you’d last seen him, outside your dorm room with the dark circles under his eyes, the withdrawn look on his face. He didn’t look like someone who’d just been scouted by the NBA. Oh God, were you feeling bad for him now?!

“Congratulations.” You say slowly, not really knowing how to feel. Suddenly, you’re hyper aware of Ari holding your hand, and now it’s like you don’t want him to let go.

“The reason I’m telling you this is because I have it all planned out. Our future.” Ari continues, looking more serious than you’ve ever seen him look. “I know you’ll still be in school, but I really think we could make it work. And by the time you graduate, I’ll have made it. We could settle down together, and I’d make it all up to you. That’s how serious I am about us.”

You simply just stare at him in complete awe. Who was this man? It was like an alien from outer space had taken over Ari’s body. Because the Ari Levinson you knew was a manipulator and a cheater. A man who stayed away from commitment with a ten-foot pole, a man who had just now professed to you that he enjoyed two-timing his girlfriend because it made him feel like he was on top of the world.

And yet… And yet you’re only just a girl, and you can’t help but picture the story his words are painting for you. Just indulge yourself a little bit, just a tiny little bit… You know you’re teetering on thin ice, and you know how dangerous it is to allow yourself hope when it comes to Ari. Hadn’t he squandered your hope time and time again for all those months he never made you his girlfriend?

But you can’t help but imagine, can’t help but think maybe this time he means what he says…

“We could buy a house in the countryside?” You whisper.

Ari cracks a smile, “Sure. And you could pop out a few Levinson babies too, make cheese sandwiches for all of them.”

“I’d have to establish myself as a model or a fashion designer before that.” You say, feeling the corners of your lips twitch upwards as you dare yourself to dream.

He looks amused, “Fashion designer, yes. Model, no. Too many pervy photographers.”

“I’ll be a model if I want to be one!”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No way.”

“Yes way!”

“Fine. I’ll be in the NBA and you can be a model. Maybe. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” He chucks you under the chin playfully, like how he used to do all the time. And you giggle, feeling like you’re floating. Like the two of you are encased in a bubble and you’re floating and time’s standing still and just for this one moment you could pretend everything was alright and your future with him was as secure as he was making it out to be.

“And you’d never lie to me again?”

He nods, “I wouldn’t. Never again.” And then he takes a deep breath, “There’s this fundraising gala thing coming up, and I’m supposed to win an award. I’d love it if you could come with me as my date.” He says with a note of seriousness in his tone, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

But rather than let you answer, he instead cups your face with both hands, pressing his forehead against yours. Immediately, the smile on your face freezes, and now you can feel every pore, every muscle, every cell in your body screaming. Screaming for what? For him to kiss you? Oh God…

“Let me kiss you,” he breathes out of nowhere, sounding like he’s parched. “Please, baby. I know I’ve fucked up but I want to kiss you so bad right now.”

“Oh, Ari…”

“Please.”

You never thought you’d live to see the day where Ari Levinson was begging you for anything. It was such a stark contrast from how your relationship had begun, almost as if the tables had turned now. Were tables capable of turning that quickly? Or was this all part of an act? Oh, you’re sick of asking yourself that question! What’s real and true is that earnesty in his eyes, and you want to kiss him so bad too. So fucking bad.

He moves closer, and so do you. Inch by inch, almost like first-time lovers. His lips purse slightly, looking so warm and soft and inviting. Closer, so close that they brush against yours for a second, and you can hear him breathing and you know he can hear you too. You wonder if he can hear your heart too, hear how it beats louder for him than it does for anyone else.

“We shouldn’t…” you murmur, but your words are laced with doubt. Just one kiss, your mind cajoles you, just one kiss won’t hurt.

There’s a gentle breeze around the two of you, swirling softly. Rustling through his hair, feeling cool against your face. Encasing the two of you in a private whirlpool where it’s just you two, and the sound of the stream, and the beat of your hearts.

“I know, but I want to so bad,” Ari’s hands are cupping your face so tenderly, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones as he slowly angles your face upwards. “Please, let me kiss you. Just once.”

It’s like the breeze jostles you forward, as if the universe wants you to kiss him. Your willpower’s hanging on by just a thread, your mind swarming with memories of every time you and him had kissed in the past. How magical it had felt for you, how it felt like you could never find someone who’d kiss you like that again. Oh, fuck your willpower!

He surges forward one last time, but his lips have barely touched yours before you pull away, turning your head to the side. Breathing hard, the anticipation still burning through your body in waves. Heart beating like crazy, and yet you swallow and shake your head.

“Ari, we can’t,” you force yourself to say firmly.

Ari sits back, looking slightly dazed and yet running a hand through his hair in frustration. For a second, you wonder if he’ll be mad, call you a tease for leading him on. Call you a slut, tell you how the least you could do was kiss him in return for all he’d done for you today. But he just sighs thoughtfully.

“Not until I come clean to Sharon about everything,” You explain, “And I know about the gala, Sharon told me. I-I’m actually going with her and Wanda, like a girls’ night.”

He raises an eyebrow before nodding slowly, “Well, as long as I get to see you there when I go up on stage to accept the award.”

“Yeah, but we can’t talk or interact or anything. Sharon’s my friend now, and I owe her the truth before anything more can happen between us.”

Ari gazes at you carefully, but there’s a hopeful glint in his eye. “So, it’s just the Sharon issue then. You forgive me for everything else?”

You hesitate. Well, did you? Did you forgive him for leading you on? Lying to you multiple times? Manipulating you? Leaving you drunk and high and alone in a party bathroom? God, why did he have to remind you of the asshole he’d been all this time, up until very recently? It pops the bubble your mind has created right now, the one that you and him were encased in, in this little clearing in the woods.

“I don’t know if I forgive you.” You say honestly, hoping he doesn’t question you further.

To your surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, he lies back down on the grass, stretching his long limbs out to make himself comfortable. You watch him as he lazily grabs another cheese sandwich from the picnic basket, wolfing it down before offering you one. Stifling a smile, you shake your head.

Ari shrugs, “Well fine, more for me.”

And it’s later, after the two of you sit there by the stream in comfortable silence for a little while longer. After he’s piggy-backed you back to his car, and after he’s driven you back home. It’s when he’s pulling up to your building, that he puts his hand on your knee to make you look at him.

“I know you said before that nobody changes overnight, but that doesn’t mean I won’t stop trying until you see that I have.” He says firmly, his hand feeling so warm on your leg, causing heatwaves to radiate up and down your whole being. “And I know you, baby. I know you like me too. I know you want this to work out between us too. And it will. Once you tell Sharon, and we’re free to be together, everything’s gonna work out. You’ll see.”

Oh, he was so cocky! And yet, it’s a different type of cockiness than what you’ve usually come to associate with him. It’s more of an honest sincerity, this confidence that one day you’ll be his. And oh, you want to believe him! You really do! You want to believe in a perfect world where Ari proves himself to be more than just a manipulative fuckboy, a world where Sharon understands and forgives you for everything.

A world where you forget all about Steve Rogers, and never find yourself thinking about him… Thinking about what could have been.

You say nothing, not until he’s carried you back into your dorm room. Not until he’s about to leave. That’s when you speak.

“Ari?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He looks surprised, as if he hadn’t really been expecting you to say anything at all after his whole speech. The truth was, you’d been silent for a while now, ever since the two of you had almost kissed in the woods. But there’s a newfound serenity inside you, a feeling that wasn’t there before.

“For what?” He asks, a shy little smile on his face. One you’ve never seen on him before.

For bringing me outside. For taking me to your special place. For not making a big deal out of it when I didn’t want to kiss you. For carrying me. For not losing your patience with me. For making me laugh. For making me smile again.

“For the cheese sandwiches.”

***

The night of the gala is cold for springtime, the blustering winds revving up and roaring to life. Looking outside your window, you can see the smaller trees swaying roughly against the unforgiving nature of what looks to be the beginnings of a windstorm. It gives you a peculiar foreboding feeling, listening to the ominous whistling of the winds, so loud as if they’re warning you. You back away from your window, and yet something inside you doesn’t close it and lock it as you know you should.

You float back over to your vanity table, feeling pretty in your new dress that you and Sharon had gone shopping for, just how she’d promised. You haven’t felt this pretty in a long time, and as you gaze at your reflection, you feel another pang of foreboding. Quickly, you busy yourself with powdering your nose and fixing your hair, wondering if maybe you should have agreed to get ready with Wanda and Sharon after all. You’d told them you wanted some alone time before the busyness of the gala. Some time to yourself where you could draw a bubble bath, and then shave and pluck and preen and pamper yourself till you felt somewhat ready for the big night out.

And it had made you feel better, your solo pamper session. Sure, your thoughts had spun into overdrive as they always did. Replaying all your recent interactions with Ari, with Steve, even with Sharon. The reflection made you chuckle at one point, because when had your life become so like a tumultuous soap opera? With secrets and lies and betrayal and deceit coming from all corners?

A loud gust of wind knocks you out of your reverie, and again you feel it. The feeling that something big is swirling up in the atmosphere, like the howling wind itself is trying to warn you that soon, it would all come to head.

“Fuck you! Try an’ scratch me again and see what happens!”

Your head snaps up at the sound of the familiar male voice. And it’s the proximity that makes your heart skip a beat. The voice sounded close, like it was coming from mere feet away from you. Fearfully, you look back at your window, only to see that same angelic face you know so well seemingly levitating outside.

“Steve?” You whisper, blinking several times. He doesn’t seem to hear you, and you wonder whether you’re imagining things. Slowly, you venture forward, back to your window which lies open. And that’s where you find him, standing on the ledge outside of your bedroom window which was two storeys high.

Steve whacks a wayward branch that looks to be tangled in his jacket. And his movements are oddly sluggish as he flips the bird at the tree adjacent to your building which the brand is attached to. “Damn stupid fuckin’ tree, tryna pick a fight with me,” he mutters before his eyes fall on you, and they brighten up instantly, “Hey, baby girl, fancy seeing you here!”

And then he bursts into a fit of giggles, while you just stare at him in awe, your mind still not having come to terms with the fact that Steve had somehow climbed all the way up to your window. In the dark. With the wind blustering insanely around him. Warily, you peek downwards, heart jumping all the way up to your throat when you see how he’s just casually balancing on the extremely thin ledge, the street below looking very minuscule with how high up your floor was.

“How did you get up here?” You breathe, still half in shock that he’s here that you forget how explosively your last encounter with him had gone down.

“Who, me?”

“Yes, of course you. Who else!?”

He shrugs, “Scaled that tree over there, then it decided to scratch me so I fought it off an’ jumped onto the ledge. Now here I am!” He ends his explanation with a flourish that causes him to stumble backwards. It almost happens in slow motion; you don’t even have a chance to react to what you’re seeing. But he catches his balance again just in time, grinning up at you mischievously.

“Whoops!” He laughs heartily, a type of laugh you’ve never really heard from him before. He shuffles along the ledge till he finds a spot he’s more comfortable with, leaning in through your window and shooting you a smile, “almost fell to my death there, didn’t I?”

“Steve, you need to get back down. You’ll hurt yourself.” You bite your lip, wondering whether you should let him in through your window just so he’d be safe. But the thought of being alone with him within the four walls of a bedroom again gives you the creeps, and so you refrain.

“Maybe I want to hurt myself,” he answers, staring at you almost quizzically. His lips are full, his cheeks flushed. His hair looks longer and even more unkempt than last time, that stubble still on his face, his eyes dark and unfocused. It was weird, because you’d always known Steve to be meticulously well-groomed and almost preppy with his clean-cut good looks. He was still handsome as ever now, but he looks darker, almost tortured, with dark bags under his eyes and even his cheeks looked kind of hollow.

“I’m serious, climb back down.”

“I just wanted to see you again,” he breathes softly, and his entire expression morphs to tender as he reaches out to touch your face. “And I knew you wouldn’t let me in the normal way.”

You can’t help but flinch away, and he sighs, bringing his hand back down to grip at your windowsill, “You’re so pretty.”

That’s when you smell it. Vodka. Suddenly, his erratic behaviour makes a lot more sense. His pupils are dark and blown out, and he’s swaying dangerously on the spot.

“You’re drunk, Steve.”

“Nah,” he bats his hand dismissively, but with such force that he stumbles forward. And again, your heart lurches in your throat, thinking he’s going to fall. But lithely, he grabs on to something or the other, regains his balance, and flashes you another smile, “okay, maybe a little bit. But being drunk helps.”

You frown, not knowing whether to feel scared or concerned, “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, “Helps to forget all the shitty stuff.”

A wave of anger passes through you, “Shitty stuff? You mean like all the awful things you said to me when you tried to force yourself on me?” Hell, maybe you should be the one drinking if it meant you could forget how he’d called you an easy slut.

Steve bows his head, still swaying slightly, “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby.”

“Okay. I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“Stop it, Steve. I’m serious.”

He sighs again, “So am I. I hate how I lose control like that. It’s like I zone out, and something takes over me and I’m there on fucking standby. Watching this one version of myself lash out and say all these shitty things an’ I can’t do anything to stop it.  And when I zone back in, it’s too late an’ I can’t take anything back.”

He explains with surprising eloquence, despite being so drunk.  And God, why did he have to look all rugged and heartbroken right now? Dismissing him would be so much easier if he was ugly.

There’s an emotion swelling up inside you as you look at him now, but you try to suppress it. Instead, remembering your ice queen persona, you cross your arms over your chest and force yourself to narrow your eyes. “Is that your explanation? That you zoned out? Because honestly, the lack of accountability–”

“I don’t think you’re a slut,” Steve interrupts you, “you’re sweet, and beautiful, and innocent. That’s what I thought the night I first saw you. And sure, I guess I used you because I was trying to get back at him–”

You flinch. There it was again. The reminder that Steve had indeed used you. And you’d fallen for it… Hook, line and sinker.

“–but at least I’m honest enough to admit it. Doesn’t that count for something?”

He finishes, blinking up at you with large eyes framed with those impossibly thick lashes, as if waiting for you to respond. When you don’t, he sighs, swaying again as another strong gust of wind attacks from the outside.

“I like you a lot, okay? I know I haven’t known you as long as he has, but it doesn’t matter. I think what we have is special.”  He swallows, his eyes squinting as he searches across the plains of your face, either trying to gauge your thoughts or trying to come up with the right words to say next. “And I know I fucked it up because that’s what I always do. So fuck it, I don’t care anymore.”

He shoves his hand inside his jacket, conjuring up a glass bottle of Gray Goose vodka out of what seems to be thin air. Your jaw drops open as you watch him take a hearty swig from it – and it was already half empty!

“Okay, that was a lie. I do still care.” He wipes his mouth roughly, stumbling about and still very much on the window ledge. “There’s just so much going on inside my head,” he says, and he demonstrates by smacking the side of his head with his open palm, “School, basketball, taking care of Kira – all of it just keeps building up. And I try my best, okay?” He loses his footing and sways some more, “but it’s never enough, and all my thoughts get louder and louder, like voices fucking screaming inside my head, and then I just explode. And I get so fucking angry, and it’s always directed towards the wrong people – whoops!”

He slips. You cry out in terror and impulsively grab hold of his arm. But he regains his balance and barks out a laugh, as if he’s tripped whilst taking a simple stroll in the park and not currently balancing on top of a very high and very dangerous ledge.

“It wouldn’t matter if I fell, you know?” He muses, taking another long swig of the vodka. And he doesn’t even flinch as the bitter liquid goes down his throat, as if the taste no longer has any effect on him. “I mean, my life’s a fucking mess already. Basketball’s completely fucked, anyways…”

“What do you mean?” You ask, your heart pitter-pattering in fear. His overtly reckless behaviour is scaring you, and you realise you’re holding your breath as you watch him callously standing there.

Steve shrugs, “Got kicked off the team today.”

Oh. You feel a surge of pity. And you know you shouldn’t. Not after how he treated you. And yet you can’t help it. Tonight, Ari was going to win an award for being the best basketball player of the season, and in the summer, he was going to the NBA. You can’t help but feel for Steve’s starkly different fortune.

He takes another gulp of vodka, “Coach said I couldn’t control my emotions and I’d keep costing the team if I continued playing.” He gazes off into the distance, and you try to gauge his expression but it’s quite unreadable. He laughs bitterly and smiles again, but it looks more like a grimace, “Fuck him. He’s right, but fuck him anyways.”

“Steve, this is dangerous. You could fall–”

“Fuck basketball,” he continues swaying around like he hasn’t even heard you, “it’s not like I was ever gonna make it to the NBA, anger issues or not. No, I have to become a surgeon. Like my parents.” His words slur and ring with sarcasm, and he barks out another laugh, “If I don’t fuck that up too…”

“I’m sorry that happened, but–”

He scoffs, “Can’t even fucking imagine being a doctor. My patients would probably be scared of me, just like how you are.”

“Please, just get down–”

“And Kira…” His expression morphs from bitter to sad in less than a second, and he clutches your hand suddenly. The one that you hadn’t realised was still holding on to his arm. And you don’t pull away, almost like you don’t want to. Either that, or you want to keep hold of him so he doesn’t fall.

Steve coughs, “God, I wish I took care of her better. I feel so fucking guilty, living on campus while she lives by herself in our house. Our parents are never home, they don’t even know what she went through… How she doesn’t even speak to anyone but me, how she doesn’t go out anymore...”

Another long swig. It’s a wonder the bottle isn’t empty yet. You want to interject, beg him once more to climb back down to safety, or at least hand you the vodka so he doesn’t drink anymore. But he’s not done speaking, and cuts you off when you try to get a word in edgewise.

“My parents, the award-winning heart surgeons!” He raises the vodka bottle up in the air in a mock toast, “They’re here, there, everywhere around the fucking world!” Another swig, more swaying. “Everywhere except for at fucking home. So then I have to handle everything, don’t I?”

“Steve–”

“They don’t even know how bad she’s gotten, how their own daughter’s shut herself off from everyone.” Steve shakes his head in both resignation and frustration, “and I try so fucking hard, okay? Try to help her with her anxiety, help her make new friends. God, all I do is worry about her. And school. And basketball. While they jet across the world doing their fancy surgeries and not giving a damn about her or me. Fuck them!”

Whoa. Wow. Okay. Now, you look at Steve with new eyes – you had no idea there was so much going on in his life, in his head. It still didn’t excuse the way he’d spoken to you, the way he’d forced himself on you – and yet… Yet you can’t help but feel another pang of sorrow and pity for him.

His eyes are dark and stormy as he looks out into the early evening sky, before looking back to you. His gaze falls down to your hand holding on to his arm, and he smiles softly.

“You were the only thing in my life that was good.”

You shake your head, your barriers going back up, and you try to pull your hand away, “No. Stop lying, Steve, just don’t even try it, don’t even–”

“No, it’s true!” He insists, holding on tightly to your hand as if he’s on a sinking ship and you’re his only lifeline. “That one week before I fucked it all up, that one week when we were just texting. I’d be on my phone, smiling like a fucking fool. You can ask Kira! She knew about you because I couldn’t stop talking to her about you.”

You bite your lip, and despite everything, you find yourself wanting to believe him so bad. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind has Steve clutching your hand even harder as he teeters on the ledge, bringing his face closer to yours, his eyes hooded and lashes fanning over those impossibly sharp cheekbones.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says.

“Don’t, Steve…”

He sighs, breaking eye contact as he plays with the glass bottle in his hand. But his other hand seems to move off its own accord, his pointer finger trailing up your bare arm. And it’s so intimate, that simple touch, leaving a trail of fire and goosebumps in its wake. Your skin feels like it’s buzzing, burning almost, as he traces his finger up your shoulder blade, as if he’s testing to see how much you’d let him touch you.

“I miss you.”

You feel your resolve crumbling…

“No, you don’t. All we did was text for one week. We never even went on a date, so you can’t possibly miss what you never had.”

“And yet I still miss you.”

He leans in, his eyes fluttering shut. His lips look so pink, so warm, so hesitantly inviting. Slightly pursed, as if he doesn’t know if it’s going to happen but he’s going to try anyways. Another sharp gust of wind blows past, almost pushing him into you as if even the universe itself is cajoling you to just give in to him. You can smell the alcohol on his pores, and yet you can also feel his warmth, his musky cologne, the way his breath hitches as if he can’t believe this kiss is actually happening…

Except you turn your head at the last second, and he sighs.

“Should’ve seen that coming,” he says to the evening sky, “lost my place on the team, lost my girl, I wonder what I’ll lose next? You wanna take any guesses? Hey, maybe I’ll lose my balance! That would be funny, wouldn’t it?”

You watch as he looks down, all the way down to the ground with a peculiar gleam in his eye. The type of gleam that reflects that he’s a man with nothing to lose. And it’s a long way down. What the hell was he thinking?!

“He really fucked her up,” Steve murmurs softly to himself, a whisper that almost gets lost in the great gusts of wind that swirl around the two of you. “And I tried to do something about it, tried to get back at him, but I fucked it up. I always fuck up. Maybe it’s best if I just–”

“Steve, stop it! Stop being so reckless!”

You tug hard at his arm, and at the same time a heavy wind blows. Steve stumbles again, but mercifully, he falls forward instead of back. Through your window and right on top of you. You both land on the floor with a thud, and despite how drunk he is, he manages to bring his hands out in front of him, preventing you from getting crushed by his huge frame.

“Whoops. Sorry, baby.”

He flashes you a cocky smile, as if he hadn’t just been teetering on your window ledge in the middle of a sad, drunken rant. The bottle of vodka is still snugly clutched between his fingers, somehow having also survived the fall onto your hard bedroom floor.

You open your mouth to tell him to get off of you, but the words die inside your throat. Instead, you look up at him, at his face so close to yours. So close that his nose is an inch away from brushing against your own. And his eyes, navy and blown out and yet still so pretty, blink down at you imploringly. The last time, when you’d been in his bedroom, they’d looked so stormy and far away. And here, now, he was drunk and yet he looked present. And you realise that you don’t feel unsafe at all.

“I really, really want to kiss you right now,” Steve says, slurring and stumbling over his words.

“Don’t.” You warn him, although you notice your own lack of conviction. In that moment, had he actually done it you don’t think you’d have objected too much. But you don’t want to give in to him, not after how scary he’d been last time. Despite everything, you still haven’t forgotten.

He nods slowly, “I know, fuck, I know…”

Shakily, he gets off of you, swaying slightly as he gets on his feet, and then he yanks you up too. Before you can stop him, he takes another swig of vodka before his eyes once again settle on you.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard, biting his lip as his dark eyes drink you in. In your form-fitting emerald dress that wraps around your body like a second skin of smooth satin. The ruching which accentuates your curves even more, the delicate lace detailing, the smooth dip of your cleavage. The gleam of your bare legs that peak through the slit of the dress. The demure heels that makes them look longer than ever. And yet you can’t help but shift shyly under his intense gaze.

“You’re all dressed up,” Steve says softly, reaching out to touch you before thinking better of it, curling his outstretched hand into a fist and pushing it down to his side, “You look… incredible.”

“Th-Thank you.”

“You going somewhere?”

“Uh… yes.”

He nods before his brow furrows, “Is he taking you out?”

“What–?”

“Levinson. Is he taking you out? Are you two together now?” His tone hardens, and you feel your heart jump up to your throat. Oh, please let him not get all angry again like how he did last time!

“No.” You say firmly, “There’s this gala, this fundraiser thing at the Hilton Hotel. That’s where I’m going. Me and Sharon and Wanda.”

“No Levinson?”

You shake your head, “N-No, Steve.” It was only white lie, because you weren’t going with Ari and you probably wouldn’t speak to him tonight. It was a girl’s night out, if anything. Plus, you’re scared that Steve might flip out if he knew that Ari would be there too.

“You promise?” He looks at you meaningfully, and he’s got that same intense look again. The look you’ve grown to associate with him, that eery, almost glassy stare. “Promise me, Y/N. Promise me that you aren’t going out with Ari.”

You don’t owe him anything, certainly not any promises. And yet, yet you can’t help but nod, “I promise, Steve. In fact, Sharon and Wanda are on their way to pick me up.”

Steve nods approvingly, looking somewhere beyond you. His eyes look sad once again, and he takes another long, lingering sip of vodka. “Good girl. You stay away from him, okay? All he does is hurt people.” He shakes his head, his mouth pulling downwards in a grimace, “He hurt her so bad.”

You frown, “Hurt who? Sharon?”

The blond doesn’t answer, but he continues talking to himself. “What did she ever do to him? He didn’t give a damn about her, and now look at her…”

You feel an uneasy wave of guilt, “You mean Sharon, don’t you? I know…”

Steve frowns, opening his mouth to answer you before he grows distracted by something beyond your shoulder. A slow smile spreads across his face, and he stumbles over to your desk in the corner of the room.

“My jacket!” He grabs the blue and white varsity jacket he’d given you the night of the party, “You still have it. You kept it.”

“You can take it back!” You say quickly, a bit too quickly judging by how his face falls. Quickly, he drops the jacket as if it’s made of hot coals, a bitter look enveloping his features.

“You should throw it away. Or burn it.” He says simply, throwing his head back and taking a hearty sip of his vodka, “thought you would’ve looked cute wearing it to one of my games but I since I won’t be playing anymore, there’s no point anymore, is there?”

What follows is an uncomfortable silence. And oh, why was he making you feel bad for him now?! After everything he’d said and done? But then he’d apologised too… Were you being too hard on him? Now you feel more confused than ever!

You sigh, “Steve… Look, I just don’t know how to act around you. One second, you’re so intense, and you’re calling me a slut, and you’re being all scary. And then the next it’s like your entire personality changes. And I just… I don’t know what to believe, okay?”

“Why can’t you just believe that I’m sorry for what happened? I’m sorry for all of it.”

You shift uncomfortably, looking down at your heel-clad feet. You wrack your brain, trying to choose your next words carefully, “I… do believe that you’re sorry.”

He stands there expectantly, as if waiting for you to say something more, to say that you forgive him, perhaps? But you don’t think you do. Do you? A few more empty seconds pass before he clears his throat.

“They put me on some kind of medication. Added it to the ones I already take.” He volunteers, breaking the silence. He avoids your gaze now, instead focusing on his bottle of vodka, tossing it from one hand to the other and tapping at the glass. “For my anger and mood swings, or whatever.”

You nod, “That’s good, right? You saw a doctor?”

He snorts, “No. My parents just heard about me flipping out and contacted the family physician Got him to prescribe me all these different pills. But this,” he raises the vodka up in the air and waves it around, “This helps more than any medication ever could. It stops all the screaming in my head. And luckily, Mom and Dad left the house full of booze, so I’m all good to go.”

You nod slowly, furrowing your brow, “Steve, maybe you shouldn’t be drinking while you’re on medication–”

Your phone vibrates loudly from its place on your bed, the sound shaking you from the inside out. Even Steve blinks several times, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding as you make your way over to your phone. It’s like the bubble of intensity the two of you have been encased in has popped, and now you’re back in the real world. It was crazy, because being inside the bubble felt intoxicating, like everything was moving in slow motion, like you were in some sort of fairytale and the troubled prince had just climbed in through your window.

Your screen glows with a new text.

Sharon: We’re on our way! Wanda’s already so drunk lol we’ll be there in ten minutes!

Oh no. You’d rather your friends didn’t run into a drunken Steve Rogers when they came to pick you up. Especially not when you were supposed to have sworn off men anyways.

“Steve, you–”

“–I need to go,” he completes sombrely, picking at a piece of loose thread on the sleeve of his expensive-looking sweater, “I know, I know.” His eyes narrow, “That wasn’t Ari, was it? Who texted you just now?”

“No.” 

He relaxes, “Good. Okay, I guess I’ll leave then.”

You chew your bottom lip anxiously, “H-How will you get back? You didn’t drive here yourself, did you?”

He waves your question off as if it isn’t important, backing away towards your door, “You don’t worry about me, sweetheart.”

“Steve Rogers, don’t you dare drive back home in the state you’re in!”

He just stares at you, that same bittersweet look on his face. Finally, he nods, “I’ll be fine. I came here with Bucky.”

You nod, “Okay, then. As long as you don’t drive…”

Steve shoots you a sad smile, one that doesn’t really reach his eyes. His eyes that are still glued on just you, only you. He crosses his hand over his chest, “I promise I won’t. Scout’s honour… Although I was never a scout, so who knows if you can take my word. Ha ha.”

He finally makes it to your door, almost as if he’d been walking in slow motion, wading through quicksand. Why? Because he didn’t want to leave? And you feel a lump in your throat, one that won’t go no matter how many times you swallow. There’s an odd yearning inside you, like an itch on your hand. No, an itch in your heart. Your fingers twitch as if wanting to reach out to touch him. Did you not want him to leave, either?

You press your lips together, rooting yourself in place as you watch him go. At the last second, he turns back around again.

“I am sorry, okay? Sorry about everything.”

Once more, all you do is nod. The expectancy in his eyes fades away and he sighs, his hand resting on the doorknob as he goes to shut the door. 

A second passes. But it feels like the longest second you’ve ever lived. Like your heart seems to beat about a thousand times in that one second, like a drum reaching crescendo. Feeling like you’ve reached that part in the movie, that page in the book where the climax happens and then everyone can breathe again. Outside, the winds seem to be charging up again, readying themselves for an almighty, blustering blow. And you can feel the booming whistle of the winds ringing all around you, when you suddenly drop your phone on your bed and rush over to the door before you can think better of it.

“Steve, wait!”

You press your lips to his in a searing kiss, catching him completely off-guard. He stumbles back slightly, either by how strongly you’ve jumped on him or because of his own inebriation. Either way, he recovers quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you against him as he reciprocates your kiss.

And you don’t know why you’re kissing him, but it’s like your body’s gone past the point of rationale. Like your lips and your limbs have a mind of their own and your brain is no longer part of the conversation. And Steve’s lips feel so soft, and this time you feel like it’s you in control. He’s too drunk to take charge, you suspect, as his lips move languidly against yours.

Your hands cup his face, his bristly skin pricking the pads of your fingers, and yet it doesn’t bother you. Not when he’s kissing so softly, so cautiously like he’s afraid he could hurt you again. It’s you who presses your tongue against his, stroking it, biting and nipping at his lips. He smirks at your overexcitement, finally injecting more passion into the kiss by tipping your head back slightly and pressing his lips harder against yours.

He tastes like vodka, but you don’t mind. He also tastes kind of sweet, kind of irresistible. And oh, you know this makes no sense! And you know you shouldn’t be kissing him! What about Ari? What about your own dignity? What about swearing off all men? What about–?

You pull away as abruptly as you’d kissed him, and both of you stand there breathless for a handful of seconds. Your lips still tingle pleasantly, and before he can say anything, you gently pry the bottle of vodka from his hand.

“I’ll keep this, okay?” You say softly, holding it behind your back. There’s still quite a bit left in it, and Steve looks like he’s one sip away from disaster. Or at least a very bad headache tomorrow morning. You pray it’s only the latter.

But he’s got a sparkle in his eye now, and he doesn’t spare the vodka a second glance, “It all went away for a second.”

“What went away?”

“All the fucking screaming in my head. All that pressure I was telling you about. Kissing you made it all go away. Your lips are magic, baby girl. Better than the vodka.”

“Oh.” You don’t know what else to say, but you feel a lurching pull in your heart nonetheless.

“Yeah, like I’m numb to it all now. Comfortably numb. And it’s such a fucking relief.” He closes his eyes for a second, as if he’s savouring the feeling. You’re so intently looking at him that you don’t even notice when he grabs your hand, and his eyes flutter open, “So you forgive me?”

You hesitate, “Steve, I…I don’t know.”

His serene smile freezes on his face, and he drops your hand like it’s a hot poker. You feel it again in your heart, that lurching fee ling that you can’t place. You watch as his face falls, almost in slow motion. And it feels like you’re sitting front row in the cinema, watching his expression turn sad, his eyes clouding over once more like he was depending everything on your forgiveness.

“Okay. Goodbye.”

He stumbles out of your room, out into the stairwell where he trips before grabbing on to the banister.

“Steve, please be careful,” you say again, your tone laced with worry.

He glances back at you, that ever-charming smile back on his face. Back from when you’d seen it that first night when you’d met him. Almost like he’s put on a mask. He gives you a sluggish thumbs-up, “I’ll be fine. I’m comfortably numb, remember? I just hope it lasts…”

What the hell did that mean? Should you go after him? You hear your phone vibrate loudly, and you glance back at your bed to see it glowing with several new texts. But then you look back at the stairwell to find it empty. He was gone. Gone like a gust of wind. Gone like he was never there.

But he was. You can still feel him on your lips.

As if in a dream, you float back into your room and pick up your phone. Two new texts.

Sharon: We’re five minutes away! Traffic’s crazy lol.

Ari: Hey. I just want to say that I’m happy you’re coming tonight. Even if we don’t get to speak, just know you’ll be on my mind all night. Fuck. That was cheesy. Anyways. See you there :).

You sink down on your bed, already feeling exhausted and mentally drained. Despite the fact that the night was nowhere near over yet. In fact, it hadn’t even begun.

***

“Where’s Curtis?” Wanda wonders aloud, scanning the sprawling banquet hall and immediately grabbing a flute of champagne from an elegantly dressed waiter holding a tray full of them.

The banquet hall where the gala is being held at the Hilton is reasonably full, and you recognise a bunch of familiar faces from campus – both students and professors. Everyone’s dressed smartly – the men in tuxedos and the women in evening gowns and dresses. Sharon and the decorating committee have done a great job; each table swathed in ivory cloth, with red rose centrepieces and golden gilded chairs. Matching golden lights against an otherwise dark room gives an almost ethereal ambiance.

“He’s probably over on table 2 with the rest of the basketball team,” Sharon nods to a table at the front of the room near the stage. “I did the seating arrangements and the place-cards.”

Predictably, table 2 is the rowdiest table in the entire banquet hall. Clearly, the basketball team didn’t give two fucks about what was considered proper black-tie etiquette. You can see Ransom Drysdale and Andy Barber having some kind of a drinking competition, chugging down wine glass after wine glass as if they were cans of beer. Lloyd is acting like their referee, half on top of the table as he tries eggs them on. Colin is laughing his head off as he looks to be live-streaming this whole performance on his phone. And then there’s Ari.

And oh, he looks so breathtaking! Your heart physically skips a beat when you see him. His brown hair slicked back sexily, but the ends curling around his stiff white collar. His tuxedo looks well-tailored and expensive – Armani probably – and a white bow tie that makes him look more handsome than ever. He’s sat in the middle of his table, looking very much like the leader of his group. A smirk on his face as he watches his teammates horse around, but then his eyes meet yours, and the cocky smirk turns into the most adorably lovesick smile that does not look like it belongs on his face – only because you’ve never really seen him smile like that ever before.

“Oh gosh, there’s Ari,” Sharon says, coming up closer to your side and making you snap your eyes away from her ex-boyfriend immediately. The blonde takes a few deeps breaths to calm herself, “And he’s looking straight at me! Well, who cares? I’m not gonna let him affect my night. In fact, I’m gonna go over to him to prove how unbothered I am–”

Before you know what’s happening, she starts making a beeline straight over to table 2 – with you in tow! Wanda follows, her eyes still searching the room for Curtis as she downs her champagne quickly.

“Hello, Ari,” Sharon says stiffly, hanging on to your arm for dear life. You hope you don’t look as mortified as you feel, watching as Ari looks up at the two of you, his charming little smile still on his face.

“Hi.” He answers her, giving her a quick nod before his eyes shift to you, and you see them sparkle as he looks you up and down, taking in your emerald dress, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards again in another sweet little smile. Oh God, damn him for being so obvious!

“Well, I just came here to congratulate you on your award,” Sharon says, a determinedly happy-yet-nonchalant look plastered on her face. “So, well, congratulations.”

Ari nods again, physically tearing his eyes away from you, “Thanks.”

“Where’s Curtis, you guys?” Wanda interrupts the awkward exchange, looking expectantly at the basketball team. You watch as she grabs another champagne from another cocktail waiter who happens to pass by, downing it as quickly as she had the first.

Ransom snickers, “He’s somewhere around here, sweetheart. But I wouldn’t bother him if I was you, he’s kinda busy.”

Wanda doesn’t even wait for him to finish his sentence before she’s off, weaving across the banquet hall at lightning speed. You watch her, mildly concerned as she grabs yet another glass of champagne, her previous one still in her other hand. She’d been antsy the whole ride over, because apparently Curtis wasn’t texting her back, and hadn’t since last night.

“She’s already a mess,” Sharon murmurs to you under her breath before smiling brightly at Ari, “Well, see you around, Ari.”

He nods at her for the third time, before his eyes rest on you once more. There’s a hint of yearning within them, and his lips twitch as if he wants to say something. Oh, when did it get so easy to read his expressions? Did you know him that well now? He gives you a soft, private smile – one you know is meant just for you. One that seems to convey a thousand words in just a single twitch of a muscle. You almost return it, before remembering who you’re with.

“Thank God, he didn’t bring her,” Sharon mutters to you as the two of you walk away from jock table.

“Huh?”

“The little skank he cheated on me with. I would’ve died if he brought her along as his date.”

You gulp, eyeing one of the champagne flutes yourself. After tonight, you absolutely had to come clean to Sharon. There was no other choice, you’d kept this secret long enough. And if it meant she’d no longer be your friend, then so be it. You deserved that. But no more excuses, you had to tell her tonight after this event was over.

And the event itself is fine. You hang out with Sharon while she makes small talk with a bunch of different people. You don’t talk much, simply staying quiet and observing. People’s outfits, their makeup, their shoes, everything. It’s nice to be out and about again, after spending what felt like an eternity rotting in your dorm room and feeling sorry for yourself. You even find yourself catching Ari’s eye every now and again, and each and every time he’d give you his sweet little private smile that made you want to die. You’d look away, of course, or busy yourself with talking to Sharon or someone else, just so you wouldn’t smile back. Even though you wanted to. You really, really wanted to.

You do get a handful of texts from him though.

Ari: You look beautiful.

Ari: I can’t take my eyes off you.

Ari: Seriously, I don’t think you realise how beautiful you look right now.

You don’t reply, but you know he can see you looking down at your phone and smiling like crazy.

About a half hour into the gala, the hosts beckon everyone to sit at their assigned tables because the award ceremony is about to begin. That’s when you notice that Wanda’s been missing for a while now. You scan the room while a retired basketball coach hobbles his way onto the stage, beginning a very long-winded speech on how he’d single-handedly led the St. Andrews’ team to victory back in 1993. Where the hell was Wanda? You realise you’ve been so wrapped up in the event and playing secret smiling games with Ari from across the room to notice that you hadn’t seen her since the three of you had arrived here.

Luckily, you spot her stumbling towards the bathrooms that are in a corridor off the main banquet hall. Stumbling being the key word, and you quietly curse yourself for allowing her to drink so much. God, Ari was just so distracting! Even when you weren’t even speaking to him, just his presence alone was making you forget about everyone else!

You tell Sharon you’re going to get Wanda before quietly sneaking away, hoping to discreetly bring her back before she wanders off somewhere else. You just hope

“Wanda, hey! Wait up!” You catch up to her, “Let’s go back to the banquet hall.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, “Leave me alone, Y/N. I’m looking for my boyfriend.”

Oh. She still hadn’t found him yet?

“C’mon, our table’s this way,” you try again, grabbing her hand, about to lead her away. Then you notice her eyes light up as she looks beyond your shoulder.

“Baby, there you are!” Wanda slurs brightly, snatching her hand out of your grip and making a beeline down the hall. You whip around to see Curtis closing the bathroom door behind him, his other hand wiping his mouth. His tie loose around his neck and top collar button undone. And you also see a tiny brunette in a silver dress slip out of the bathroom behind him, the dim lights of the hallway swallowing her up as she slinks away into the darkness, Wanda not even noticing her.

“Wanda.” Curtis blinks, looking entirely unperturbed. “You’re here.”

She hits him playfully on the shoulder, “Of course, I’m here. I came with the girls, remember? And I wanted to support you!”

He scratches the back of his head, “Yeah. Cool. Look, I’m gonna go back to the boys–”

“Great, let’s go!” Wanda links her arm with his, making his jaw tense and eyebrow raise. And you watch this whole ordeal with a sinking feeling in your stomach.

“Babe, remember how I told you this event was a no date kind of thing?” Curtis carefully peels himself away from her, making her pout. You cringe when she doesn’t get the message, grabbing his bicep again, her manicured nails like talons holding on with all her might.

“But I missed you, baby,” Wanda smiles up at him drunkenly. “I’ve been looking for you all night!”

Curtis visibly cringes, “Come on, babe, don’t be like this.” Again, he dislodges his arm from her grip, pushing her off of him not-so-gently. “I’m here with the team tonight, but I promise I’ll come by your room later. Maybe. Like way after midnight probably.”

You can’t hide your disgust, openly frowning and shaking your head at him. God, why did all men suck so much?

“Come on, Wanda,” You grab her hand once more, “You don’t need him to enjoy your night. Let’s go.”

“Um, fuck off, Y/N, I’m talking to my boyfriend right now.” Wanda pushes you off her before sidling up to Curtis again.

You gape at her, feeling a pang of hurt. She’s just drunk, she didn’t mean to say that…

Curtis sighs, rolling his eyes, “Listen to your friend, Wanda. I gotta go.”

“I’ll come with you!”

For a third time, she grabs on to his arm tightly. That’s when Curtis huffs, clearly annoyed.

“Look, I don’t know what you think is going on between us, but stop acting like we’re in some serious relationship or whatever.” He says, a frown bordering on disgust on his face as he shakes her hand off of him.

Wanda gapes, and even your mouth drops open. How dare he? How fucking rude!

“Baby, you don’t mean that–”

“I mean sure, we have fun together but please don’t get the wrong idea, Wanda. You can’t just chase me down at these public events like you own me or something. That’s not how this works. In fact, all it does is make you look kind of desperate.” He continues, getting his phone out and nonchalantly scrolling through it as if this whole painful conversation isn’t even worth his time.

How the hell was he speaking to his own girlfriend like that?

“I-I’m sorry for being desperate, Curtis,” Wanda says earnestly, her eyes wild and pupils dilated, “Please, don’t do this! Don’t break up with me like this!”

He rolls his eyes, “Do what? I’m not doing anything! I can’t break up with someone who was never my girlfriend to begin with. Sure, we had fun for a few weeks but it’s not like we were ever exclusive, let alone dating. You were too clingy for my liking anyways.”

“Curtis, that’s enough!” You admonish, your heart breaking for poor Wanda. Curtis was a joke.  You can’t believe he’s standing here denying he was ever in a relationship with her. Hell, you’d been a third wheel to them enough times in the past month to know the two of them had definitely been a thing. How the hell was he just so casually gaslighting her now, as if none of that ever happened? God, you would never understand men!

Curtis glances at you, a devilish twinkle in his eye before he turns to Wanda again, “Hell, I’m pretty sure I tried to sleep with your friend Y/N before I settled for you that night at the party.”

“Oh, you’re such an asshole!” You explode, pulling Wanda away, “Stay away from her, you piece of shit! C’mon, Wanda.”

What you haven’t noticed is Wanda standing deathly still. She snatches her hand away from you, a look of absolute loathing, shock and betrayal on her face. And a part of you wants to see her give an asshole like Curtis a piece of her mind. But then she turns to face you, her eyes drunk and accusatory.

“Y-You…” she points at you, swaying in her heels from all the alcohol in her system, “You slept with my boyfriend?”

“What? No, he tried to sleep with me, but I wasn’t interested. It really wasn’t a big deal–” You try to hold her hand to calm her down, hoping she doesn’t make a big scene.

“Later, ladies.” Curtis grins, squeezing past the two of you and strutting over to table 2 with the rest of his team. You watch him for a moment, slack-jawed at his nonchalance and how badly he’d just hurt your friend.

“I can’t believe you!” Wanda hisses, pulling away from you yet again. “I can’t believe you slept with him!”

You shake your head desperately, “No, no, no! I didn’t sleep with him! That’s not what he said!” You take a deep breath, stopping yourself from raising your own voice out of desperation to get her to understand. Instead, you speak slowly: “Wanda, I did not sleep with Curtis. Yes, he did try it on with me ages ago but nothing happened.”

“You’re the biggest bitch in the world, Y/N! I can’t believe you slept with him!” Wanda sputters, tears welling in her drunken eyes. It’s like her brain has only selectively heard what he’d said and is running with it, and she’s unable to compute what you’re saying to her now. “I knew you weren’t above sleeping with other people’s boyfriends but I never thought you’d do it to me!”

“No, please, just listen! You’re not understanding–”

“Let go of me!” She bats your hands off her when you try to grab her again, backing away and stumbling out into the main banquet hall. “Don’t even speak to me again, Y/N! How dare you sleep with Curtis?! When you knew how much me and him meant to each other!”

Helplessly, you watch her as she marches across the banquet hall, and you trail behind her with a lump in your throat. You’d have to wait until she was sober to explain things to her properly, which was another conversation you weren’t looking forward to. But for now, you just watch her, hoping she doesn’t injure herself with how determinedly she’s walking. You expect her to head towards Curtis’ table, which is why you freeze when she walks straight past him and up towards the stage.

The retired basketball coach is just about done with his speech, and you nervously rejoin Sharon who is also looking at Wanda climbing up the stairs of the stage with a confused look on her face.

“We need to go get her,” you murmur.

“Why, hello young lady,” the retired basketball coach greets Wanda warmly, “Are you here to present the first award?”

Both you and Sharon spot Wanda eyeing the microphone with a gleam in her eye, and the two of you stand up in unison, exchanging alarmed looks.

But Wanda is quick, bumping the retired coach out of the way with her hip. She grabs the mic, tapping it quickly many times in succession. A high-pitched feedback echoes across the room, and more eyes turn towards her from all the other tables in the hall. The retired coach gives her a confused smile before shrugging and slowly hobbling away. A number of stagehands look on in confusion, checking their clipboards to see if this was part of the show.

And that’s when Wanda starts talking.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have an award of my own!” She grips on to the mic like a vice, teetering on the middle of the stage. Her hair’s messy, her face stained with dried up tears. The straps of her dress slipping down her shoulders, and the half empty wine glass still in her hand, the remaining contents of it sloshing out onto the polished wooden floor.

“What the hell is she doing?” Sharon whispers from beside you. All around you, everyone in the banquet hall is whispering amongst themselves, and now all eyes are glued to your drunken best friend on stage. The tables full of professors, coaches and alumni all look around in bewilderment, frowning as if Wanda being on stage is all part of some kind of skit before the award ceremony.

You glance over at the jocks on table 2. Ari shoots you a perplexed look, Ransom’s got his phone camera out, Andy’s grinning from ear to ear. Colin has the decency to look away, an embarrassed look on his face. And Curtis? Curtis leans back on his chair, an amused look on his face as if he’s ready to kick back and enjoy the show.

That means it’s all up to you.

“Wanda!” You hiss, glad that your table is close enough to the stage that she can hear you, “Wanda, you’re drunk. C’mon, let’s go to the bathroom so I can fix you up.”

She looks down at you and smirks evilly, before looking away as if she hasn’t even heard you. Instead, she once more taps the mic once, twice, three times. She giggles drunkenly, “Testing, testing, is this thing on?”

“Wanda, babe, come down please!” Sharon joins in, but she also gets promptly ignored. She bites her lip before turning to you, “God, how did we not realise how drunk she’d gotten? She’s gonna make a fool of herself.”

“Wanda!” You try again, raising your voice slightly, “Come down, Wanda, please! The awards ceremony is about to begin!”

“It’s already begun! And like I said, I have an award of my own,” Wanda says, looking beyond you but never fully at you. You can see her lip curled slightly, and either it’s a smile or a sneer – you can’t really tell. But it makes your blood run cold, and a strong sense of foreboding washes over you again, like how it had earlier in your bedroom.

Quickly, you make your way over to the stage, hoping to pull her off before she said anything to embarrass herself too much. And it’s when you’re climbing up the stairs at the side of the stage that she resumes speaking:

“I know you’re all here for some… some random basketball award,” Wanda slurs, “But I wanna get my award out of the way first. And it’s the award for St. Andrews’ college’s biggest fucking slut.”

You’re halfway up the stage by now, and it’s when you step up on to the polished wooden floor that you pause, her words sinking in and a horrific feeling dawning on you. Oh no…

“And look! Here she is, the slut herself!” Wanda cheers, pointing straight at you with an unsteady hand. She throws her head back and laughs, her other hand gripping on to the mic for dear life. “Everybody, please give it up for Y/N! She already knows she’s the winner, nobody else could ever compare! Y/N is undoubtedly the biggest fucking slut on campus, and she wholeheartedly deserves this fucking award!”

Pin drop silence. For the first second, that’s all you hear. Silence that’s so loud, it’s almost deafening. Ringing in your ears, closing in on you like a siren. Then, you feel the waves of heat. Red hot fire radiating all over your body. Your face, your arms, your neck. Everywhere. You can’t quite believe what’s happening, but you know there’s a banquet hall filled with strangers staring straight at you as if you’re swathed in a spotlight.

“Curtis, get your girl the fuck off the stage!” You hear Ari say somewhere in the distance, and you can see him getting to his feet.

“No fucking way, that bitch isn’t my problem anymore.” Curtis whispers back, a note of glee in his tone.

You remain frozen on stage, your heart thrumming up to your throat. Wanda cackles, drunkenly beckoning you closer. Someone – either a professor or a coach – tries to coax her off the stage but she bats him away as if he’s an insignificant fly.

“C’mon, Y/N! Don’t be shy, come accept your award!” Wanda holds up her now empty wine glass as if it’s a trophy, “Ladies and gentlemen, don’t be mistaken! Y/N isn’t normally this shy! I mean, she certainly wasn’t when she fucked my boyfriend!”

A hushed gasp fills the hall, followed by a host of whispers. There’s a tiny voice inside you, telling you to run. Just run, run, run away from it all. But your feet don’t move, firmly planted in place as your whole body buzzes with heat and the lump in your throat gets bigger and bigger. Why was Wanda doing this? Oh God, what was happening!?

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Ari scrape his chair back and stride over to the stage, a venomous look on his face. At the same time, you feel a warm hand on your shoulder as Sharon comes up the steps to stand beside you.

“Wanda, honey, that’s enough.” Sharon says softly, holding her other hand out to your drunken friend. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

“Don’t you honey me,” Wanda spits out, “And don’t look at me as if I’m some sort of fool. If anyone’s a fool, it’s you, Sharon!”

Oh no. You feel yourself going light-headed.

That’s when Ari jumps up on stage, looking huge and menacing as he strides over to Wanda. He grabs her by the upper arm roughly, “Carla, shut the fuck up right now if you know what’s good for you,” He hisses.

“Well look who it is! Mister Knight in Shining Armour, here to save the fucking day!” Wanda laughs, and at least she’s not speaking into the mic anymore, but did it even matter? “Y/N doesn’t need your help, Ari! She’s a fucking slut who enjoys sleeping with other people’s boyfriends, and she’s proud of it! You’re proud of it, aren’t you, Y/N!?”

You’re in no condition to answer her question. Now, your body seems to be experiencing rapid hot and cold flushes. Icicles, then fire, then icicles, then fire again. And your face feels like it’s been stabbed by a thousand pins and needles. It’s a sensation you’ve never felt before, almost like an out of body experience. Like you’re floating except it feels terrible instead of liberating, and there’s absolutely no way for you to escape the impending doom.

Someone’s directed the live band to start playing again, and the room fills with music to combat the earth-shattering silence. But you know everyone’s eyes are still on the spectacle that’s taking place on stage. Everyone’s looking at you. And it’s like all your insecurities from the past month had come back in full force. Except so much worse, because now everyone thinks you’re a slut.

To your horror, Wanda goes to speak into the mic again. But Ari quickly snatches it out of her hands, throwing it aside and shooting her a glare, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

“Okay, Wanda, you’ve made your point,” Sharon interjects gently. “I don’t know why you’d spread all these lies about your own best friend who’s been nothing but good to you, but it’s done now. Let’s just go.” Again, she reaches for Wanda’s hand, only for the latter to shoot her a sneer.

“Stop acting so holier-than-thou, Sharon. You’re not worth shit anymore, not since you got dumped,” Wanda laughs, suddenly aware of who exactly is on stage with her. She glances from you to Ari to Sharon, a look of evil glee spreading across her drunken features. “Why don’t you ask Ari again why he dumped you? Or better yet, why don’t you ask your new best friend Y/N?”

The band’s now playing an upbeat song, the lead singer urging everyone to get up on the dance floor in a bid to distract them. A few people do, but most stay planted in their seats, their focus still on the stage. Not that any of that even matters, not when Wanda’s words hit you like a ton of bricks. Out of your peripheral, you sense Sharon inhale sharply from next to you, and a deep feeling of dread starts spreading across your chest.

“Curtis, get the fuck up here and deal with her,” Ari seethes through gritted teeth. Curtis rolls his eyes, slowly making his way up to the stage like a panther going on a leisurely stroll.

“She sleeps with everyone’s boyfriend!” Wanda explodes, pointing another accusatory finger at you. “She doesn’t care about ruining relationships, all Y/N cares about is herself, Sharon! That’s why she’s been sleeping with Ari for months behind your back! And I kept her secret because I was being a good friend to her! Little did I know she fucked my boyfriend too!”

“That’s it, you’re fucking done,” Ari yanks Wanda off the stage, roughly pushing her down the steps all while keeping an iron grip on her forearm.

Thankfully, and yet a little too late, a stage hand drops the curtains. Dramatically, they fall down, shielding you from the stare and gossip of the audience. But you don’t feel any better. No, all you feel is pure, frozen shock. And the chaotic pantomime continues, even with the stage curtains now drawn.

“She’s been fucking Ari this whole time! She even fucked him out in the open at that frat party. In front of everyone, because that’s the type of slut she is!” Wanda cries out, stumbling over her words that act like bullets directed straight for Sharon. And, of course, you. “And she fucked Curtis too that night! Like the biggest fucking whore in the whole world! It’s true ‘cause he just told me! And God knows what she did with Steve, she probably let him smash too! As if slutting around on one campus wasn’t enough, she had to target a guy from a different college, and–”

She’s cut off by Ari plastering his huge hand over her mouth, all while she struggles and fights against him. He continues dragging her down the steps before throwing her into Curtis’ arms. Immediately, Wanda pacifies, grabbing on to Curtis for dear life while the buzzcut-haired man holds her gingerly.

“Get her out of here. I don’t care where the fuck you take her, I just want her gone.” Ari orders, narrowing his eyes when Curtis opens his mouth, “Don’t fucking argue with me, Everett. Go.”

Curtis rolls his eyes again, cautiously taking hold of Wanda who shuts up momentarily when she notices who’s holding her. She looks up at him with shining drunken eyes. “Curtis! You came back for me! Oh, I forgive you for fucking Y/N! I know she’s a huge slut and she probably seduced you! It wasn’t your fault at all, baby, I know that! Please let me be your girlfriend again, Curtis, please, I’ll do anything–”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Curtis grunts as he drags Wanda towards the exit. Thankfully, she’s docile enough in his arms, and easily goes with him.

Leaving carnage in her wake.

They all think I’m a slut, you think it again, still frozen in place. And I am! I am, I am, I am! I’m a backstabbing slut and this is what I deserve. Total public humiliation.

You pull yourself out of whatever catatonic state your body wants to shut you down into. The stage curtains are drawn and you’re protected from all the stares of the guests, and yet you feel like you can still hear the buzz of their whispers. The gossip formulating, your name on the tips of all their tongues. Spoken with disdain and disgust. Oh, you want nothing more than to just shut down and disappear. But you can’t. You can’t shut down yet, not yet. Instead, you force yourself to face Sharon head on, and come clean about what you should’ve come clean about ages ago.

“Sharon, please, just let me expl–”

“It’s not true, is it?” Sharon says slowly. Her cheeks look red, her eyes stricken, as if Wanda’s drunken bombshell has reached out and slapped her across the face. Her mouth downturned as if she’s about to cry, and yet she’s using every fibre of her being to hold herself together.

Ari chooses that moment to come up next to you, instinctively putting his hand on your shoulder. And Sharon looks from him to you back to him again. And then her face falls, and it’s like it’s all happening in slow motion and you’ve got a front row seat to someone’s heart being broken in real-time. Her face crumples as realisation dawns on her, and a whimpering sound leaves her mouth.

“It is true…” She breathes.

“I am so, so sorry,” You begin, not even knowing how to start. You feel numb and disorientated, like Wanda’s screaming expose has hit you like a freight train you may never recover from. And yet you know not to be selfish enough to make it all about you in this moment, not when Sharon looks so betrayed right in front of you. And yet a tear rolls down your cheek as you look at her, “Sharon, please understand how sorry I am. I know I should’ve told you before, there’s literally no excuse–”

“You’re right, there isn’t.” She cuts you off coldly, but the iciness doesn’t reach her eyes which shine with a mix of tears and betrayal. “How could you? You were supposed to be my friend. Th-This whole time I thought you were my friend…”

“Hey, leave her alone,” Ari interjects, positioning himself in front of you protectively. “If you want to be angry at someone, be angry at me. She’s already been through enough tonight.”

“DON’T YOU DARE DEFEND HER, YOU LYING PIECE OF SHIT!” Sharon bursts out in a blaze of fury, “For once in your life, show me a little bit of respect and don’t fucking defend the girl you cheated on me with right to my face! I was your girlfriend once upon a time, Ari. And you act like it meant nothing.”

Her voice breaks at the end, and she fiercely wipes away her tears. It smears up her makeup too, but she looks like she’s past the point of caring.

“All I’m saying is to leave Y/N out of this, Sharon. Whatever happened between me and her wasn’t her fault at all. You and I can discuss this privately.” Ari says, his tone hard and serious. He’s standing tall, as if being exposed for your joint betrayal has him completely unfazed. You, on the other hand, feel like you’re about two feet tall.

Sharon looks at Ari incredulously, before her eyes shift back to you as if she can’t help it. “I trusted you, Y/N.” She says brokenly, “I..I liked you. I liked you so much. You have no idea how much I…” Her voice trails off for a second before it hardens: “…and this whole time you were going behind my back.”

You swallow harshly, “I’m so sorry. Please, I know what I’ve done is unforgivable. But just believe me when I tell you that I’m so, so genuinely sorry. Wh-When me and Ari started… I didn’t even know you back then and I know that doesn’t excuse it–”

“IT DOESN’T EXCUSE IT!” Sharon screams, and beyond her shoulder you can see a few people peeping through the curtains as if to continue watching the show. “It doesn’t excuse it at all, Y/N! You had so many chances where you could’ve come clean to me, but you chose to lie to my fucking face.” She laughs bitterly, as if she can’t believe all this is actually happening. “Oh God, how stupid could I have been? All those times when I was crying to you about my breakup, or when I was trying to help you get through your boy troubles… All that time you were sleeping with Ari and I never suspected a damn thing?! Oh, you must’ve been laughing your ass off behind my back!”

You scramble to explain yourself, you want to say more, but it’s like your throat’s closing up now. Like you’re experiencing some type of allergic reaction. Your skin feels like it’s crawling, like your self-disgust has just boiled over the edge and you’re covered in the shame and guilt that’s been festering inside you. Except it’s now also mixed with the sheer humiliation from everything you’ve just experienced. What could you possibly say to explain yourself? She was right. She was one thousand percent right.

They were all right about you, the voice in your head cackles. Steve and Wanda and probably everyone else who’s thinking it right now. You’re a slut.

“Leave her the fuck alone, Sharon.” Ari threatens lowly, dropping his hand from your shoulder and taking a menacing step towards the blonde. “I mean it. Not another word.”

Sharon tilts her head, and you find her looking at you. Really looking at you. As if she’s searching the plains of your face to detect the level of your honesty. And you want to look away, want to look down because of how humiliated you are. But you look back at her meekly, feeling like a fucking backstabbing rat. Oh God, why had you not just come clean to her weeks ago when the two of you had first started becoming friends? Were you truly that spineless? Were you really that much of a coward?

“Get out.” Sharon says coldly, the hurt on her face now replaced with an impenetrable mask of stone-cold indifference. “Get out of here, Y/N. I don’t want to look at you. I thought we were friends but it’s like I don’t even know you. And I never knew you. So just get out of here. GET OUT!”

Her venomous words make you jump. Your lower lip quivers, and you feel like the dirt at the bottom of everyone’s shoe. Ari turns around, tries to grab your hand but you back away quickly. Your heel catches on something and you stumble. Regaining your balance, you see Ari coming towards you, and Sharon staring you down from behind him. The pity and concern in his eyes, the pure betrayal in hers. Oh, you don’t want any of it! You just wish you’d disappear!

You take off into a run, your heels clacking on the wooden floor noisily but you don’t care. You do exactly what Sharon’s told you to do – you run. Gathering up your dress so it doesn’t get caught in your shoes. Oh, and who cares if it did? Who cares at all? Certainly not you.

You run out into the full banquet hall, trying not to meet anyone’s gaze. Trying to block out what they’re whispering. You know they’re talking about you; you know they’re looking at you as if you’re the biggest backstabbing whore in the whole world. Which you are. Oh, how spectacularly everything had fallen apart!

Somewhere behind you, you can hear Ari calling out your name. But you don’t stop, don’t look back. Not this time. You weave through the crowd, your tears blurring your vision but you don’t dare stop. Out into the hotel lobby, down the marble steps adorned in grand red carpeting with gold tassels. Feeling like a warped Cinderella who wasn’t the helpless princess after all, but instead the backstabbing villain. Out the front entrance, and the doorman stares at you but you don’t care, and the outside cold hits you like a ton of bricks.

As if on cue, the wind roars loudly, slapping you in the face with all its might and fury. And you remember earlier tonight, when you’d wondered whether the winds had been trying to warn you about something. Oh, your intuition had been right! Why hadn’t you just stayed at home?! Now, the wind swirls around you threateningly, and you just stand there in the bitter cold, as if daring it to attack you. All around you, the grass rustles, the trees cower, the very ground seems to shake as gust after gust hits at you, and your hair comes loose, and you’re about to start crying in earnest, and–

“Y/N, wait! Stop!” Ari grabs your hand, his familiar warmth shooting through your entire body. He pulls you into his arms, embracing you fiercely. Your burst into ferocious tears that you hadn’t realised you’d been holding in. Loud, wracking sobs muffled by his strong chest as he holds you close. “I’m so sorry that happened, baby. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I did!” You cry, another gust of wind hitting you like a wake-up call, and you push off of him with tears streaming down your face. “I did deserve it, Ari! I deserved all of it!”

There’s an invisible whirlpool around the two of you. Maybe you’re imagining it in your delirium, but it’s like a swirling of energy, entrapping the two of you together on this stormy night. The wind howls around you both, ringing in your ears as if to warn you again, telling you this is all wrong, wrong, wrong!

And Ari looks at you like his whole heart’s in his eyes, and they glisten with emotion that you’ve never seen in him before. And he holds you close, and cups your face. He wipes your tears as if to soothe you, but how could you soothe someone who was so beyond repair that perhaps repair wasn’t even an option anymore? How!?

“Let me take you home,” he whispers, “I don’t want you to be alone tonight. Please, let’s just go. And I swear I’ll deal with everything; I’ll deal with all of them. I’ll make them pay for hurting you. Just please, stop crying and come with me.”

“No!” You snatch your hand out of his and step back, shaking your head fiercely. “Don’t you get it, Ari? We’re not right together and we never will be!”

“That’s not true–”

“Yes, it is!” You sob freely, “How many people do we have to hurt for it to sink in that we just don’t work?” Ferociously, you wipe at your tears, not that it matters when new one’s flow down your cheeks freely, “All we ever do is fight, Ari! We just run around in circles and fight and hurt each other and hurt everyone around us! And now I know it’s ‘cause we just don’t work, and we never will!”

“No.” Ari says firmly, “I’m the one who hurt people, okay? Not us. Just me. And you got caught in the crossfire and I’m fucking sorry.”

You shake your head, “It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters, Ari. They all think I’m a slut and they’re all right! And I’ll never live this down and I don’t deserve to live it down! So just leave me alone, okay? JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“NO!” Ari roars, louder than the wind itself, and louder than you too. “No, I’m not fucking leaving you alone! I told you that I care about you, and I’m never gonna leave you alone. So just… just come on. Let me take you home, baby. I’ll make it better, I promise.”

The blustering winds form an impenetrable current around the two of you, whistling and swirling with rogue leaves like a tornado that you seem to be trapped in with him. And in an ironic way, it perfectly encapsulates your relationship with him: a whirlwind. A tornado. A constant uphill battle filled with fights and arguments, always one step forward and then two steps back. Maybe it was time to just give up, to come to terms with how it just didn’t work between you and him.

You sniffle weakly, “Nothing can make this better. Whatever there was between us, it was never going to work. Not when it started out as a lie.”

Tenderly, yet charged with an electric emotion you can’t quite pinpoint, he cups your face again. Your freezing wet cheeks welcome the warmth they bring, despite everything.

“I’ll make it better,” Ari repeats, softer this time. He presses his forehead against yours. “You mean more to me than Sharon or anyone else ever did. And I know our relationship started out wrong because I lied to you. Constantly. I know that. But I promise you I’ll make it all better and you’ll never hurt again how you’re hurting now.”

You feel like you’re at a crossroads. You’ve gone through more emotional turmoil in these past few weeks than you have in any other point of your life. And each time, you’ve fallen back into Ari’s arms in a heap of tears. So, what about this time? Would you do the same thing again? Another circle? Another fight? Another heartbreak?

“I’m in love with you.” Ari breathes. And in that moment, even the winds stand still. And his eyes look like twin oceans with stars scattered inside them. And those stars in his eyes, those stars get bigger and bigger till they’re all you can see. And you can’t hear anything anymore, except for his breathing and yours. And you can feel only one thing, and that’s his hands cupping your cheeks as he gazes at you with a look of desperation mixed with something else. Something passionate. And honest. “I’m in love with you, okay? I’ve never been in love before but I’m pretty positive that I love you, and I promise I’ll protect you from ever being hurt again.”

In the distance, beyond his shoulder, a branch from a tree falls to the ground. As if unable to stand the wrath of the wind on this night. It crashes down, all the way down till it’s no longer a part of what it had once always known. You focus on it for a split second, before some kind of magnetic pull makes you look back to Ari.

“Why does it always take some sort of traumatic event for you to say these things?” You whisper, letting his words bounce off you. Not letting them permeate into your heart and set camp, not allowing them to let you hope. Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted to hear from him!?

“I’ve felt this way for a while,” he says earnestly, “I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. But I told you, I’m ready now. For everything. I love you, and I want everyone to know it.” He draws you closer, cradling your face in his warm hands. How are they so warm on such a cold night? How was he so warm when you felt so cold, cold, cold?! So freezing cold from the inside out?

I love you. I’m in love with you. I promise I’ll protect you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Oh, his words were finding their way into your heart! You take a timid step closer, allow yourself to look into his eyes. Everything was crashing and burning around you. Your life was ruined, and so was your reputation. Everyone thought you were a slut and you had no friends left at all. But Ari was here. Solid. Real. Right in front of you. Saying all the right things on a night that had gone so horrifically wrong. Should you allow yourself this? Did you deserve it? Did he?

His lips have barely brushed against yours when you hear a loud shatter right next to you.

“You told me you weren’t going to be with him tonight.”

Steve. Standing less than a foot away from you. A glass bottle lying broken by his feet, the smell of vodka strongly emanating from him. His hair falls over his forehead, swaying gently in the roaring wind. His eyes black, blown out, barely there. Hooded, like he’s sad. Betrayed. Oh, how did he even get here!?

Your jaw drops open, “Steve, I–”

“How fucking dare you show your face in front of her after everything you put her through?” Ari growls, pushing you behind him before squaring up to Steve. “Get the fuck out of here, Rogers. Before I break your neck.”

You swallow harshly, “Ari, don’t…”

Steve sidesteps Ari, and those sad eyes look straight at you. Penetrating down straight to your soul.

“You kissed me earlier tonight, but now you’re choosing him.”

He says it matter-of-factly, his words slurring slightly but still clear as day. You feel a pang in your heart. From your peripheral, you see Ari bristle at Steve’s words, clearly taken aback by what he’s just revealed.

You open your mouth, but it feels all dried up. Like you’re back in the middle of the stage with an audience of people watching you get exposed for your betrayal.

“You don’t have to answer him.” Ari says to you, quickly recovering and grabbing your hand protectively before turning back to sneer at Steve. “Get the hell out of here. Tonight isn’t the night for your bullshit.”

“He’ll only hurt you,” Steve says, ignoring Ari and looking directly at you. “I told you; all Ari ever does is hurt people.”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Steve, or else I’ll–”

“Or else you’ll what, Ari? I don’t give a fuck what you do.” Steve finally looks at the brunet, squaring up to him till they’re both face to face. Each as big as the other, each as menacing as the other. But that’s where the similarities end. Ari looks wary, on edge. And Steve? Steve looks like he has nothing left to lose.

“Oh yeah? Is that why you’ve been dodging me all these weeks?” Ari barks out a laugh, but it sounds hollow, almost forced. And his eyes keep darting between Steve and back to you. “I’m telling you for the last time, Rogers. Walk away so she doesn’t have to see me kill you.”

“Stop acting like some kind of fucking hero, Ari. You of all people should know that’s not what you are.” Steve fires back, “You’ll hurt her, just like you hurt–”

“My car’s parked around the corner. You know what it looks like. Go, I don’t want you to see this.” Ari says to you, his hand dropping yours as he keeps his eyes on the blonde in front of him. You watch as his fists clench by his sides.

There’s a pause before Steve laughs. And just like Ari’s from earlier, Steve’s laugh sounds hollow too. Like neither of them are enjoying this confrontation. And neither are you, and yet your feet remain planted to the ground. The winds are still howling around you, encasing the three of you in a whirlpool. And within it, you sense the strongest feeling of foreboding you’ve felt yet.

“You still haven’t told her, have you?” Steve accuses.

A dark, anxious feeling pools inside your chest, twisting your veins, reaching straight for your heart. More secrets? “Tell me what, Ari?”

“Go to my car, I’m serious.”

“I heard your little speech from just now. I heard all your promises. How you’ll never hurt her again,” Steve shoves Ari. And it’s a drunken shove, but a hard one. “How you’ll protect her,” another shove, “How you’re in love with her.”

“Shut the fuck up, Steve. You have no idea what you’re–”

“Tell me, is that what you told my sister too?”

Everything stops. Even the wind, with how fierce and mighty it had been all night, comes to a screeching halt. It’s like the grass stops rustling, the trees stop swaying. You think your heart has stopped too. Steve’s sister? Kira? Ari knew her? The dark, anxious feeling doubles up, multiplies in a millisecond. You feel like your insides have turned to tar, and your blood freezes in the worst way possible.

“Wh-What’s he talking about, Ari?” Your question comes out soft, timid. As if you’re afraid of the answer.

Ari’s head whips around, and his cheeks are flushed. His jaw tensed, his eyes wild. Quickly, he shakes his head, “He doesn’t know what he’s saying, okay? Clearly, he’s drunk, and high off of something, and he doesn’t know what he’s saying–”

“WHAT THE FUCK DID KIRA EVER DO TO YOU, ARI?!” Steve erupts, making you jump. Ari flinches too, but Steve closes in on him, his dark eyes blazing. “What did she ever do to you? Except trust you?” He laughs bitterly, “Maybe that was her mistake. Trusting someone like you.” And then he looks straight at you, “Don’t make the same mistake, Y/N. He’ll run you out of this place just like he did my sister.”

Your lower lip quivers, “What do you mean?”

Ari grabs your hand and pulls you back, “Let’s just go. He doesn’t know what he means. He has no fucking clue what he’s talking about.”

Like it’s a hot poker, you pull your hand out of his grip, staring up at him incredulously.

“I have no fucking clue, huh? As if I haven’t been in the same house as her, watching her lock herself up in her room and cry for the past fucking year!” Steve says, and this time he squares up to Ari again, grabbing the brunet’s collar to make him look at him. “As if I haven’t watched her become a fucking shell of her former self, as if I haven’t watched her lose her smile, lose her personality, lose her fucking will to interact with anyone. All because of you!”

Now it’s Ari’s turn to shove Steve, and he does it with full force. Steve stumbles backwards, and Ari looks at him in fury. And yet he doesn’t say anything, nothing at all. And the sticky black tar coats your heart and starts seeping into your lungs, making it hard for you to breathe. Making it hard for you to make sense of what’s going on. Oh god, what exactly was Steve saying?! And why wasn’t Ari denying anything?!

“You can’t even deny it anymore, can you?” Steve spits out, “And now you’re out here actin’ like a fuckin’ superhero, promising Y/N the entire world. Well, why don’t you answer my question, Levinson? Is that what you promised Kira too? Is that what you fucking promised her before you spread those pictures of her to every fucking person you know?”

That’s when you feel like the wind’s been knocked out of you. You feel faint, dizzy. Like you’re no longer real. Ari turns to look at you, and you can’t even begin to decipher his expression but it’s like you no longer want to look at him. Pictures? Like nudes? Ari? Spreading private pictures of Kira around campus??? You shake your head, willing him to say something, to deny it all vehemently.

“She’s my sister,” Steve’s voice breaks, an outpouring of emotion that you’ve never ever seen from him. His face red, his fists clenched but not in anger, more so in desperate sadness. “She’s my sister and you were my friend and you fucking broke her, Ari. She couldn’t handle it, everyone talking about her, laughing at her. You ran her out of school, and you broke her. And now you’re gonna do the same thing to Y/N too.”

Ari swallows, looking stricken how you’ve never seen him look before. He sucks in his breath, and when he speaks, it sounds like it’s a stranger talking: “Don’t even act like you have Y/N’s best interests at heart, after what you did to her. And you have no idea what you’re sayi–”

“This is who he is!” Steve erupts again, this time looking straight at you, “My sister was so fucking trusting, she did whatever he asked her to. She sent him pictures that were supposed to be private, all ‘cause he told her to. She never should’ve trusted an asshole like him but she did, she trusted him with everything she had, and now look at her.” He shakes his head, his entire body shaking from either anger or grief or both. “And Kira, she was so broken over it, she told me never to mention it again to anyone, she made me promise not to. But you need to know who he really is. He’s a fucking asshole who’ll hurt anyone! He hurt Kira, he hurt Sharon, and he’ll hurt you too.”

“Let’s go,” Ari says to you, gathering himself and grabbing your hand, “Let’s just go and I’ll explain everything.”

For the second time, you snatch your hand away from his and shake your head, your mind racing and you think you’re going to be sick. Oh God, how many more times would Ari lie to you? “Don’t touch me.”

“Baby, I said I’d explain–”

“You knew Steve’s sister this whole time?”

“Yes, but–”

“Wh-Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you mention it even once?” Your voice sounds high, like you’re about to start crying from shock. And betrayal. You suck in your breath. He’d been hiding this from you, so what else was he hiding?

He tries to grab your hand again, but you take a step back in disbelief.

“Don’t you dare touch me. Y-You’re a liar! You lied again. You told me you wouldn’t lie to me but you lied again!” Oh, you feel like you don’t even know him anymore! Did you ever truly know him to begin with? You think back to Kira, so anxious that she couldn’t even look you in the eye. Had Ari really hurt her so badly? Spread around nude pictures of her and ruined her life and then continued on with his own as if none of it had even happened? “H-How could you do that to her? How could you–”

Ari opens his mouth to speak, but that’s when Steve tackles him. You scream, caught off-guard as the two behemoths fall to the ground. The wind resumes its wicked gusts, and this time it’s like it’s taunting you. Taunting you for forcing yourself time and time again to live in this fairytale utopia where Ari and you could ever possibly work. Each slap of cold air on your face reminding you that nothing, nothing in the whole world, could ever make the two of you work.

And maybe it was written in the stars, maybe this fight was bound to happen between the two of them. And yet you can’t make sense of it, watching with stricken horror as Steve grabs Ari’s collar again.

“You sick, twisted bastard! Fuck you for ruining my sister!” Steve punches him, but Ari quickly dodges it. And Steve’s movements are slower, sluggish. You feel sick thinking of how much he’s had to drink tonight. He was already drunk hours ago when he’d showed up at your dorm room, but now? Now he looks doubly wasted, teetering on the verge of no return and completely past the point of even caring about it.

Steve’s fuelled by alcohol and a tragic rage. No, rage was the wrong word, because the anger he was exhibiting now was nothing like when he’d punched the wall or when he’d lost his cool at basketball practice. Now, it felt different. Like he was charged by his own sadness, and an underlying sense of resignation. Like a part of him didn’t care what would happen to him by the end of tonight. Like he was getting all his punches in before he… before he…

“Stop!” You finally find your voice and yell out, but it doesn’t carry, your words getting lost in the wind. Ari shoves Steve off of him, dragging both of them to their feet. Steve throws another punch, and Ari dodges it just in time so instead of his fist connecting with his jaw, it slams painfully against his shoulder. But Ari doesn’t flinch.

“You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about!” Ari snarls, drawing his fist back to punch back. That’s when you throw all caution to the wind and run forward, coming between them.

“Don’t, Ari! He’s drunk, and he took all this medication, and…” your voice trails off, but the worry is evident in your tone as the realisation hits you. His medication for his mood swings. How much of it had he taken? Ari pauses, still glaring daggers at Steve, who looks back at him just as venomously.

“HIT ME, LEVINSON! DO IT, JUST HIT ME!” Steve shouts, louder than the wind itself. “It’s not like I’ve got shit to lose, so go right ahead! I’ve said what I had to say and now I’m fucking done.” His face twists, veins popping in his forehead, his blonde locks brushing over his wild eyes as they rest on you. His gaze softens somewhat, like a drunken, tragic hero. “I’m done, Y/N. It’s okay, I’m done. And I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for scaring you. I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”

Why was he talking like that? You have no time to contemplate his words, however. Because Ari steps forward in front of you, his fist clenched to his side. And you’ve never seen him look this angry, and once more he draws his fist back, and you try to find your voice to stop him but nothing comes out. And the wind hits its crescendo, and there’s a clap of thunder serving as an exclamation point to this disastrous evening. Your entire body jerks, as if expecting something terrible to happen, and you close your eyes and you brace yourself…

A loud thud. You open your eyes, a scream getting caught in your throat when you see Steve on the ground. Motionless.

“Ari, what did you do!?” You cry.

Ari turns to you, breathing hard and yet he’s got a confused look on his face. His fist is still clenched but he shakes his head in shock.

“Nothing. I swear I didn’t do anything, he just… He just collapsed.”

You run over, crouch down next to Steve, trying to survey any damage. Sure enough, his face looks pristine, apart from a bluish-purple hue to his pale skin that you hadn’t noticed before. No signs of having been punched, however. But it’s his eyes that catch your attention, stricken and looking straight up. Almost like he’s unresponsive, when just a second ago he’d been on his feet and just fine.

“Oh god, oh my god. Steve!?” Your voice goes high with panic. With trembling hands, and quick, flurrying movements, you shake his shoulders. But all that does is make his head loll back, and he’s still staring up at the sky with a glassy look on his face, not reacting to you at all. Almost like he’s on another planet. Trying to keep your panic at bay, you quickly try and feel for his pulse, and that’s when you really start to lose it.

“Oh my god, Ari, he-he doesn’t have a pulse! I can’t find his pulse, I c-can’t– ARI, DO SOMETHING!”

Ari, who up until this moment seemed to be frozen in shock, staring at his still clenched fist as he stood over the two of you, seems to finally snap out of it. He springs into action, pushing you aside and crouching down next to the blond. He grabs his wrist while you look on, horrified beyond belief over what exactly was happening in front of your eyes.

He knew that mixing alcohol with his medication was dangerous, you think to yourself, another bout of sick realisation dawning on you. He’s pre-med, he’s studying to be a doctor. Of course, he knew! Had he… had he meant to do this? Oh God…

“He’s got a pulse,” Ari mutters, “He’s got one but it’s weak.”

Tears gather in your eyes as your head starts to spin, “H-He was on this medication, he told me earlier F-For his mood swings or something. And he was drinking too, and he probably took his pills and he drank and, oh God, I should’ve done something! I didn’t think it was that bad, I didn’t–”

“We need to call 911.” Ari says firmly, and you’re relieved that at least one of you is keeping their wits about them. You don’t know whether Ari’s just good under pressure or whether he’s in genuine shock too, judging by the frozen look on his face. Nevertheless, you watch him as he stands up, getting his phone out of his pocket and dialling the number.

And, almost like in cruel irony, the howling winds that had been swirling around you have now gone silent. Deathly silent. It’s like the three of you are in a vacuum, and yet you can barely even hear Ari talking on the phone. All you can hear is your fucking heart in your chest, and the racing of your own thoughts: this is my fault, this is my fault, this is my fault…

“Come on, Steve!” You urge, grabbing his hand and almost recoiling because of how limp and cold it feels. He’d been so warm when you’d kissed him hours earlier, so warm and soft. And it seems like lightyears ago, that kiss followed by the breathless silence. How you’d noted how he looked like he was one sip away from disaster. Oh, why hadn’t you done more? You could have sobered him up, but you’d been so wrapped up in your own problems. And now?

“P-Please, don’t do this. Just wake up. Or say something, just please!” And you don’t know why you’re having such a reaction – wasn’t it you who’d told Steve hours ago how you and him barely even knew each other? How there was nothing between the two of you? How he’d ruined all of that? Then why, why, why was your heart burning up right now? Like a ball of fire deep in your chest, waiting to explode. You tap his cheek desperately, noting the blueish tone of his lips, wondering why you hadn’t noticed that earlier. Beating yourself up over it.

“They’re coming,” you hear Ari say behind you, “An ambulance is on its way. It’s gonna be okay.”

But you don’t even hear him, too busy thinking back to when Steve had been in your dorm room earlier tonight. The sad look in his eyes as he’d turned to leave after your kiss. You can feel your tears soaking up your freezing cold cheeks now as you squeeze his hand.

“I forgive you, okay? I forgive you! Just wake up, please! Steve, just wake up! Didn’t you hear me? I forgive you!”

Your tears blur your vision, and his face becomes a pale blur. Fiercely, you wipe your eyes with your one free hand. And vaguely, you can feel Ari’s hand on your shoulder. And his is so warm. And Steve’s is so cold. Hot and cold. Cold and hot. You don’t even notice when you feel your own hand being squeezing lightly.

“That’s good,” Steve says faintly, his lips barely moving. You gasp and move closer, hoping you haven’t imagined it. His eyes flutter gently, like he doesn’t want to keep them open anymore. But his face looks relaxed, so relaxed that it’s scary, and it feels like you’re looking at a ghost. Those blue lips part once more. “Don’t worry about me. I’m comfortably numb, remember? I think I finally made it last…”

“No, no, no, no…” you scramble, watching as his eyes slip shut. You squeeze his hand again, shake at his shoulders, tap his cheek. Oh no, no, no, no. And all around you, the trees start swaying once more. The great gusts of wind continue, almost like they never even stopped, and another branch falls to the ground. The grass rustles beneath where Steve lies, and the moonlight shines on his face, making his pallor look a deathly kind of beautiful. Like an angel.

And it reminds you of the first night you’d met him. The night you’d dreamed of him. He’d looked like an angel in your dreams too.

The wind whistles with great might, and it sounds like a cackle. As if it’s mocking you. And Steve is still, and Ari’s still holding firmly on to you, and you can barely hear the blare of the siren as the ambulance slowly approaches.

A/N: .....did Steve just.... OH MY GODDD. Well, if you made it this far then congratulations!!! I really hope y'all liked it. I'm so scared it didn't live up to expectations. I KNOW there was no smut but you guys I tried my best to see where I could fit it in... I just couldn't justify putting it in anywhere in the story and it actually making sense, pls understand! UGHHH I'm just so insecure about this chapter, but if you liked it PLESE PLEASE let me know what you think! Any thoughts, comments, feedback would genuinely be appreciated SO much like SO SO much omfg. Like any favourite parts etc? I really wanted to focus on romantic scenes between reader and the two guys and i hope i showed that! BUT YEAH PLS LMK WHAT YOU THINK ILY ILY.

Okay and as usual, here are some questions!! (y'all don't have to answer them, but just in case anyone does!!!)

Which romantic scene did you prefer? Steve coming up reader's window or Ari taking reader on a picnic? OR NEITHER???

What are your thoughts on Carla Wanda after this chapter??? LMFAOO.

Why was Sharon more upset with reader than with Ari? Hmm.....

Did Ari really spread Kira's nudes around :( ?? Or do you think there's more to the story?

TEAM ARI OR TEAM STEVE? ( if he's okay that is damn )

AND THAT'S IT! Hope y'all enjoyed it! I'm gonna stop yapping now bahahaha byeee ily ily ily

[sherewrytes]

Ms. Good Grip

Inspired by this song

If you know you know. If you don't know how you know. Wanted to drop a fic with a more Caribbean inspo.

C.W : smut, Caribbean dialect, overstimulation, Caribbean black reader. Dom ony. Y/N be actin out

Your fav cousin wedding reception was in full swing. Drinks pouring, shots passing, weed smoke in the air all elders already left. You knew your boyfriend Ony wasn't used to Caribbean style parties. The pacing was completely from the usual parties he's used to. He was faded and tipsy, hands gripping your hips catching every whine you threw his way. You were completely bent over, if it wasn`t for your updo your hair would be touching the floor with how far you were bent over. You both took a break from dancing to get some drinks and more food before everyone's greedy ass ate it all up.

The song changed to Alkaline's on Fleek. As soon as you heard,

Whooo gyal yo pum, pum Gyal, yuh pum pum, Gyal, yuh pum pum on fleek.

You joined your other wild ass cousins in the dance circle and began whining. You made sure to position yourself right in front of Ony. You were secretly putting on all this show for him. All the weed and drinks had you wanting him. He looked so good in his semi casual fit You whined slowly at first slowly going lower to match the intro of the song staring him dead in his eyes while he smoked a joint with a bottle of Stag beer in his hand. His shades resting slightly lower on his nose. You watch him beckon you over with a finger, but you ignored him only because you loved riling him up at times, it makes the sex better.

You felt a hand grip your waist; you knew instantly it wasn't Ony's, but you decided to give the guy a lil dance. You cousin Shanice side eyed know mothing " Aye, you always lookin' for problems. You know how Ony's gonna react." You laughed saying "Oh well, small thing."

(Small thing- Trini slang for No big deal)

You heard the Dj scratch and the song changed to Spice's Jim Screechie

You were singing the song loud and clear while throwing it back on the random guy.

"And your gyal a watch you hard, but me no matter that Hold me tight and don't let me go Whine with me and me a whine with you"

You were giving him a wicked whine knowing for a fact that kinda whining is reserved for Ony but you thought "Oh well." The guy had one hand on your hips pulling you back against his hips while almost dry fuckin you on the makeshift dance floor. You felt a hand grab your wrist and pulled you. You looked up and saw it was Ony pulling you off the makeshift dance floor away from everyone.

"You got me fucked up; you know that. Are you goin out of your head or sum." Ony said his voice gruff with annoyance. You on the other hand were turned on by hearin' him this way. You smirked "It's just a dance Ony. I know you're suffering from not accustom. You bein' a black American I know you won't know much about my culture and shit."

You watch Ony's eye widen with annoyance "Oh really, you really wanna go that route with me. Imma give you a last chance to take that shit back." You rolled your eyes and giggled. "Still just a lil dance Ony." You attempted to walk away big mistake.

You knew it was your fault you were now in this situation. Your hands pressed and pinned against the toilet door with your back arched. Ony was feeding deep, hard strokes. You had to way to move, one of his hands pinned your hands against the door while the other was between your spread thighs rubbing your clit.

You felt your wetness run down your thigh, you were making a mess of yourself. You were coming again. You were pleading with him to take it easy on you "Ony 'm sor-sorry...please I can't"

"Nah, you can't, you weren't whining out there on him like you couldn't so nah you gon' take this dick. It's what you wanted right."

You were panting, moaning moaning his name as fucked you harder. You were now pressed against the door, his hand now pressed against the side of your neck. Between the hard slaps of his hips against yours and the song blaring in the background, you were losing your mind. You came twice already and feeling the third one fast approaching. He was rubbing your twitching clit. Rubbing so fast, your squirt was coming out faster than you realized. Your lust filled sobs were shaking your body and his, it only made him want to fuck you harder.

"Ony! Ony! Ouuu fuck I'm sorry 'm sorry please please please slow down." He stopped only to turn you over so you can be face to face as he lifted you up and pinned your back against the door again. You were both face to face. Ony's eyed still red from smoking.

"You always tryna test me and push me Y/N huh. You don't fuckin listen....actin up and showin out for WHO. that dude..playin' too much."

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your stomach clenched, you saw Ony smirk and slid his hand between both of your bodies and press down on your stomach. Your eyes widen while tears brimmed the corner. "Ouuu fuck! shit Ony..didn't mean to do it. why you fuckin me like this."

Ony tried to reign in his anger but her couldn't he felt it coming back, only pushing him to thrust deeper and harder "Don't play dumb with me Y/N you know I'm actin' like this."

Between Ony tearin your shit up and the music thumping in the background, you were close to another orgasm, tears now running down your face. Ony's hips practically pinning you between him and the door. Ony leaned in and kissed your tears away.

Ony finds your silence a bit annoying. After what felt like minutes, his hand gripped your throat. Through your teary eyes you could see you pushed Ony a bit to far but then again he knew how you were. He loved you for it.

Ony felt your body shivering against his. He kept feeding you deep, hard strokes which you were sure if the music wasn't loud as fuck everyone could hear. He felt his vexation simmering in his veins.

"Ony..please..I love you. I...Ony!" you pleaded. Ony rolled his eyes tired of hearing the same things over and over again come out of your mouth.

"Nah, love me, that's crazy Y/N. Do you really love me Y/N?" "I do Ony! I do. I won't do this shit again I swear...just.."

You were gripping around his dick so tightly he could feel his balls twitching and he fucked you against the door harder. He knew you loved pushing his buttons as much as you loved him. he wrapped your legs tighter around his hips, trying to go deep as he possibly can. You were so overstimulated you were shaking while pressed between the door and him.

"Fuck Y/N you're squeezin' me Gonna nut" you felt him fill you up groaning into your ear. You knew the amount he just came in you would leak out.

Ony sat you on the bathroom counter, helped you clean up then he cleaned up himself. You cleaned your face with make up wipes you had in your bag and reapplied your make up Ony smirked "You gon behave now my love" "Yes Ony I will"

You went back out the wedding party holding hands and smiling.

[cute-sucker]

Hi! I wanna request a story of like kook reader having a crush on Rafe and her friends always warns her about his behaviors but she doesn’t care at all and continues to admire him and he definitely notices it but he’s so nonchalant and cold about it😭😭

rafe cameron was your world. 

if it was up to you, the sun set on him, and the moon awakened when his face came into view. it was cheesy you knew, after all, you had been his neighbour forever, but you couldn't help but find yourself drawn to his behaviour. when either it was his looks or the cocky smile that he had. whatever it was, it was not okay. 

well, you didn't see a problem with it. it was just a crush. just something to smile about sometimes, or think about. that's what you had promised some of your friends. but sometimes your friend mindy would tap your shoulder as she mouthed a soft "no," "no." 

at a certain point, you had become wheezie's babysitter in hopes of getting closer to rafe. it was pathetic you knew, but wheezie was such a sweet girl that you loved it even more. days at tanyhill were filled with finger paintings and fairy tales. sometimes you would go all out and let wheezie cook, although that did entail both of you getting completely covered in flour. and that was how you met him. formally. 

you had been smiling up at wheezie, as she told you the gingerbread cookies looked more crooked than usual. you had batted it off telling her that the two of you just had different styles. still you were covered in flour as rafe walked in. while you did have a small crush on him, you tried to ignore him as much as possible. if he was in a room, you walked out choking, blushing so hard. you were just so shy, you could barely say a word. 

yet here you were on the floor as you giggled with wheezie. the two of you were tired. until a voice rang out. 

"what the hell is going on? the place is a mess. shit." 

you felt your heart race as you got up, while wheezie continued to roll on the floor telling you how this perspective of the world was wicked. finally, rafe came into view, eyes squinted as his eyebrows were furrowed. "who the hell are you?" 

wheezie rolled her eyes, "oh my god, rafe can you be more embarrassing. she's my babysitter?" his expression stayed confused before he shrugged it off walking to the fridge, wheezie scoffed, "damn rafe do you even pay attention-" 

"hey!" he snapped, swinging the fridge open to take out a carton of milk, a warning finger in the air, "don't swear." 

at this wheezie scoffed, putting her hands on her hips, "you do it all the time, i don't know why i can't-"

"wheezie, i'm older than you," he interjected, and then he held the milk carton up to his lips. wheezie winced, making a disgusted face, as she pushed him away from the fridge. rafe stumbled away a satisfied grin on his face, ruffling wheezie's hair.  

"ugh, boys you know," wheezie huffed, closing the fridge door with a bang.  

finally wheezie looked up at you, almost as if she was realising you had said nothing and arched an eyebrow at your expression, placing a comforting pink manicured hand on your shoulder. it was humorous how the 13 year old was trying to make you feel better. her nails were still a shocking neon pink with sparkles. 

"don't feel too bad. rafe is weird." the two of you left it at that before going back to making cookies. 

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉

"and then he came in, like all khakis, and that hot polo shirt," you giggled into your phone, kicking your feet. your friend mindy made a hurrupted sound on the phone, "i met him, like actually met him. why aren't you as excited about this?" 

suddenly the phone went silent, and you could hear her soft breathing, "i dunno, i mean lets think about this rationally," she sighed out, and you groaned, turning over in bed. this meant that hard truths were going to be told. 

"-okay i know you hate this, but you've babysitting for the camerons for what, two years?" 

"three years," you corrected, before realising your error. 

"yeah, three years and he hasn't noticed you at all? hasn't thought to ask, 'hey who's that rando girl staying in our home dad?' at all? they invited you to the midsommers, and to all of their parties. and he doesn't know you?" 

you winced at that, before you pouted turning back on your back, "listen, i know it sounds bad, but i don't know. it'll happen."  

you didn't think about it too hard, but there was a noticeable shift. you were putting a lot of care into changing into a cute dress, or painting your nails with extra care, or making sure you asked wheezie where he was. you didn't think it was obvious, but one time wheezie brought it up. 

"do you have a crush on rafe?" she asked, stuffing her face with the burger you had made her. 

you were taking a gulp out of your lemonade and almost spat it out, "wheezie! don't ask me things like that." 

she blinked at you innocently, "i don't know what you're talking about. it's a valid question," and then she pouted, "i thought you'd tell me everything about yourself." 

"well, no, i don't have a c-crush on your brother," you sputtered out, glaring at wheezie who gave you a sly grin. she quickly let go of the conversation, and the two of you were arguing over jenga and who had won. 

quickly enough the days passed at the tanyhill, you had settled down into the belief that rafe would not notice you. who cared? you had a nice job, wheezie was a sweetheart and mr. cameron loved having you around. it was perfect all of it, until rafe approached it. 

it was for a frat part you could tell. with his backward cap on, a fitted tee, he looked like a dream. the babysitting shift was over, and you were slowly walking outside only to see rafe revving up his motorcycle. 

you found yourself flushing at the whole scene and murmured out a soft 'bye.' as usual, you were ignored, or maybe you were too quiet, goddamn it you were so stupid-

"hey!" 

you turned around to see rafe cupping his face to yell at you. he had pulled off his helmet to talk to you. 

"hey," you stuttered out, grasping at your tote bag. you looked like a total grandma, with your cardigan, and written-on sneakers, "what's up?" 

"just heading off to a party, and uh," he scratched his head, squinting his eyes before tearing his eyes off his motorcycle to look back at you, "wanna come? it's at like nine." 

"sure! of course. yeah, sure," you blurted out, flushing even more. he regarded you again, a well-natured smile flittering across his face. 

"yea, i'll see you then." 

so there it was. an invitation. rafe cameron had invited you to a party. 

maybe this was a start of something.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 5 all chapters

-You take him home, and you can't help but stare in awe as you go through the gate. The Wick residence is quite the cabin-style manse, a behemoth in dark painted wood and stone and massive mirrored windows.

“Do you...want to come in?” he offers as you park in the circle drive. “Dog would love to see you.” 

You look at him, not sure if that is code for he would like you to spend more time with him. It’s so hard to read this man. It doesn't seem like he's hitting on you though. Just…being nice? You know he must be lonely, and you truly have nothing better to do. 

“Ok. I can stay for a little while.”

The mudroom leads into the kitchen, which is dark cabinets and black marble countertops. Dog trots up to you immediately upon entrance, snoofing your outreached hands and leaning heavily on your legs. “Hi sweetie,” you say, scratching his side.

“How about a snack?” John offers, opening the refrigerator. “I’m always hungry after a hike.”

“Okay.” 

“Want some coffee? Tea?”

“I can make it, if you show me where your stuff is.”

“No, it’s your day off. Let me take care of you. You always take care of me.”

You're a little dumbfounded, standing in this man’s kitchen who by his own admission, you barely know. Never once have you been invited by any of the wealthy visitors from the coffee shop into their homes. Why would you be?

You aware again of how he towers over you. It makes your very bones weak, when he looks down at you with those shining dark eyes. He does not look away from you, holding your gaze. You don't know why, but you feel a little like a butterfly caught in a spider’s web. 

“Have a seat,” he directs, nodding towards a leather-upholstered stool at the island.

 “Ok...”

You are not used to being taken care of. You’ve been on your own for so long.

You feel a little out of place, and cautiously slide up onto the stool, looking around. It’s an open plan, you can see into the recessed living room with its cavernous ceiling. The house is painted in dark shades, masculine, but very stylish. It's classy but comfortable, with large windows to let in the light and the natural beauty from outside.

Then you watch with more than a little fascination as John sets up a kettle and a French press, then starts putting together a little charcuterie spread on a wooden board. His hands are poetry in motion, and like when he’d helped you with your burn, you cannot look away. He slices artisan sausage and cheese, expensive locally crafted treats from the grocer you can never afford on your ramen budget. They look delicious.  

You feel like quite the honored guest. The kitchen fills with the heavenly scent of coffee as he pours the hot water into the carafe, and you relax slightly.

“You didn’t have to do all this for me, Mr. Wick,” you say as the selection on the charcuterie board expands to sliced apple and herby crackers, still a bit mortified.

 “Call me John,” he insists, looking at you through his hair. Your heart does an extra hard tha-thump in your chest. “And it’s my pleasure, really.”

With sundries in tow you go to the living room, where there are soft leather couches and a rustic walnut wood coffee table. He turns on the gas fireplace, lending the room a warm glow. You notice there are bookshelves flanking the fireplace that rise almost to the ceiling, completely full. This place is incredibly cozy, and as you settle into the cushion you regret already that you’ll have to leave.

Dog clambers up on the couch with you, practically climbing into your lap. You laugh, hugging the affectionate canine as he licks your face, but John gives him a funny look. 

“Is he not allowed on the couch?” you ask, feeling sheepish. 

“Not usually, but I'll let it slide.” He says it with a slight smile, looking at the animal bemusedly. “It's not often we have company.” 

Dog offers a canine smile, undoubtedly well aware that he is getting away with something this special day.

You take a sip of your coffee, and sigh. This is the good stuff. “God. You make better coffee than I do. Why do you even bother to come into the shop when you could just stay here all day?” You could just sit and read in this room for hours, you reckon. Look out the window. Watch the fire, and forget the outside world even exists.

“The shop has its perks,” he says quietly, looking at you out the corner of his eye. As usual, you're not sure if he's talking in double speak. In the end you decide it’s all in your head, and you relax a little more.

After snacking on tasty tidbits and sipping a bit more brew, you look around more. A wrought iron staircase leads up to a landing. You can tell the house sprawls a long way further back than just what you can see. Before you can stop yourself you blurt out, “Do you really live here all alone?”

You’ve never noticed a wedding ring, but then, he’s missingthe appropriate finger.

“Yes.” He looks off into the fire. “I was married once, but she passed away.”

Shit. You and your big fucking mouth.

“Oh. I'm so sorry.”

“Thanks. It seems like it was a lifetime ago now.” He frowns, clearly still deeply pained about it, and you feel so terrible for bringing it up. But sometimes once the scab is open, it's best to remember something good.

“What was her name?”

“Helen.”

“How pretty.”

“Yes. She was...a lovely woman.”

“What was she like?”

He smiles then. It's slight, and completely to himself. But you feel some validation in your train of inquiry. “She was smart, and funny, and she lit up any room she walked into.”

His total opposite, it sounded like. There’s a reason opposites attract, to make a whole. 

He sighs, a forlorn sound that squeezes your heart. “And, I loved her with all my heart.” 

“What a lucky woman,” you say before you can stop yourself. 

You absolutely feel the weight of the sidelong look he pays you this time.

“We had some luck, before she was diagnosed. But when you love someone like that...eternity wouldn't be long enough.”

You're not sure why there are tears in your eyes for someone you never met. 

“I wouldn't know,” you admit. 

No one has ever loved you so much. 

“You're young yet. You will, someday.” You can still feel him looking at you, out the corner of your eye. His gaze has such weight to it, a heady, heavy thing that is like a hand on your skin. 

“I’m not sure I want to,” you admit frankly. “It sounds…terrifying.”

“It is,” he agrees. “But when it hits you...you don't really get a choice.” 

Before you can think of an answer to that, somewhere in the house a phone rings. With a little frown John gets up to answer it. “Make yourself at home,” he tells you. It sounds a bit like an order.  

You take an impossibly soft blanket and drape it over you and dog, snuggling up in the cozy warmth. You don’t really mean to fall asleep, but you close your eyes, and you ae done for.

You dream that someone is gently touching your face, tracing the curve of your cheek ever so lightly.

You only wake up when there's a small noise, and you find John cleaning up what's left of the charcuterie board. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, glaring down at the cheese knife that dared roll off onto the table. 

That he would apologize to you, when you're the one who fell asleep in his house, is pretty absurd.

You sit up a little. The weight of dog has made one of your legs go numb. 

“I'm sorry,” you counter. You are mortified as you wonder if you were snoring. Waking up early for your shift at the coffee house tires you out so badly. It can be hard to have a real life, when you wake up at four in the morning. “I didn't mean to doze. It's so warm and comfortable here.”

He frowns again, but you don’t realize it’s because he’s wondering if you are warm and comfortable in your own tiny apartment. He holds up a hand when he sees you struggling to get free of the blanket. 

“It's alright. Stay as long as you like.” 

He takes what little is left of the sundries back into the kitchen. 

You manage to get up, and stretch, reawakening your limbs. You join him in the kitchen. The sun is hanging low in the sky. It will be dark soon. You have sooo overstayed your welcome, or so you think.

“You might as well stay for dinner now,” John says. As usual, you can't really tell if he's joking. 

He’s not, in fact, but he is being careful about how he handles this delicate thing between you. Seeing you snoozing contentedly on his couch with his dog moved him to his toes, and the notion of keeping you there with him is becoming harder and harder to resist.

It would be so easy, he thinks, just to keep you.

Fat snowflakes have started to fall outside. 

“I think I've imposed on you enough for one day. Thank you, this was nice.” 

He looks out at the snow, which is falling even more heavily now. 

“Sure you want to go out in this?” 

“Right now? Yes. In two hours, probably not.” 

He nods at that, seeming to think on something. “Will you...text me that you've gotten home safe?”

You are finding out that this outwardly stone-faced man has a protective steak that is totally endearing. You never would have guessed from his prickly exterior. 

“Sure. What's your number?”

He tells you, and you punch it into your phone. “Alright. See you later, Mr. Wick.” 

He doesn't correct you, and is it just you, or do his pupils dilate when you call him that? 

Hard to tell, with eyes so dark as his.

There is a pregnant moment between you, in which you wonder if you should offer him a hug, or if that would totally ruin the balance of your companionship. You briefly wonder what he would do if you stood on tiptoe, steadied yourself with a hand on that muscular chest, and kissed him on the cheek, before you decide you need to go.

Later you text him a funny string of emojis involving a house, snowflakes, the wide-eyed smiley, and a penguin, imagining how they would make him scrunch up his brow. 

Does this mean you're home safe? 

Yes, Mr. Wick.

Glad to hear it. Good night, y/n.

[serosblunt]

BakuSquad Boys: Showering with Them (Pt. 1)

BakuSquad x (Gender-neutral) reader

Characters: Sero & Denki

Warnings: None really; mentions of shaving, nudity, hints at spicier things.

Description: What I imagine showering with these two would be like, from how often they shower to skincare routines and fun little quirks they have. Kirishima and Bakugo coming soon in part 2 :)

—————

He loves to bathe with you, no matter how it’s done. Bath vs. shower, quick or not, he doesn’t care. Sero’s convinced it’s one of the most intimate things in the world. Especially when he shaves your legs for you.

He gets it, sometimes the feeling of hair is overwhelming, but you’re too tired to be able to shave yourself, and honestly, you can’t help but fall in love with the way he plants kisses up your calves as he goes.

Trust me when I tell you ladies, gents and everyone in between, this man is the KING of shaving for you. Body part is irrelevant, he’s got it. Just put your leg up on his, babe, and you’re good to go. And if waxing is more your style, you’re in luck! Your charming boyfriend comes with a handsome smile and an unlimited supply of tape- a handy substitute for wax strips.

Hanta spent hours practicing on patches of his own hair so as to perfect his technique before he dared risk damaging your beautiful skin.

You’re usually both nightly shower-ers, unless Hanta’s weekly night shift interferes, which he hates more than anything. Showering alone in those boxy agency stalls could go suck ass as far as he was concerned. He lives for quiet nights with you. This is where the routine usually begins.

An intimate dinner, low music playing in the background to fill the silence, or burning conversation that just couldn’t wait to be heard. But normally this is saved for the bathroom, this is where you both really begin to wind down for the night.

Celebrating your vulnerability by talking about your days, and gently massaging the stress out of aching muscles; kissing away annoyances to replace them with a new, more comfortable warmth.

The tape-hero’s arms wrap around you from behind as you do your skincare in the mirror. He places gentle kisses to your neck as he patiently waits his turn. There’s never a burden behind these touches, nothing that says you have to go further. Nevertheless, you appreciate the love he puts into each caress of your skin, despite already knowing the outcome of the night will be an early bed time to combat Hanta’s outrageous patrol schedule, and you happily curled up in your hero’s chest. Once Sero does get his turn in front of the mirror, his routine is quite simple.

Having already brushed his teeth to keep that signature smile shining, he uses a basic facial cleanser - one you got him onto. After that, there’s another mystery product that he can never pronounce, but the serum has helped his childhood acne scars to no end. Slap on a bit of moisturiser and he’s done. Simple as that.

He never had a skincare routine before he met you, so these steps feel like quite a milestone achievement to him. Needless to say, he ALWAYS sticks to his routine, and he’s quick to pull you up and help you with yours if you happen to be slacking a little that day.

Never in the history of the world, has a man gone more feral for someone’s body than Denki does for yours. You like to joke that he was actually born with some sort of bloodhound quirk crossed with his electricity. Only your loving boyfriend doesn’t smell blood, oh no. He has a wicked sixth sense about when you are actually, or are planning to get naked; and he refuses to be absent for that particular event.

He normally showers every second day, most of the time that happens to be at the agency, out of convenience. It serves as a good visual reminder to him. He’s not a barbarian though, if he needs a shower, he’ll take one. Besides, it’s not like his routine is exactly consistent. If you’re naked too…well, who could resist?

However, on the odd occasion when you are showering and he doesn’t feel like joining you, he’s not just going to leave the bathroom. No, no, that little sneak will be watching the entire time.

The two of you can still carry on with a conversation for the most part, but the second you stretch your arms up to wash your hair, he’s a goner.

Droolin’ fool type goner.

Kaminari considers it his duty to moisturise your body. He especially admires how smooth your skin is after you’ve exfoliated, but he thinks you’re smokin’ either way. He’s just honoured that you even let him touch you like that. It’s arguably his favourite part of the day, feeling your velvety skin gliding beneath his palms. And it’s not like you dont get anything out of the experience either ;)

Hear me out, Denki LOVES doing skincare with you. Any excuse he has to get close to you is a win in his mind.

To the blond, the feeling of your hands on his face are equally as soothing as the water itself. Your apartment doesn’t have any of those fancy water filters on the faucets, thus, Denki finds showers particularly calming after a long day. Tap water is a good conductor of electricity, and is often useful in helping your sparking boyfriend come back to himself after he’s overused his quirk, or just had a bit of a rough mission.

Sometimes, he can quite literally feel his quirk humming through his skin as it recharges itself, occasionally leaving tiny Lichtenberg figures down his arms.

If you ever do a facemask on yourself without telling your boyfriend, he actually considers it a personal offence. His motto when it comes to skincare is, whatever goes on your skin, goes on his.

Cleansers, serums, balms, creams, masks, the whole nine yards. Denki has never complained once because he truly loves every minute of it. To him, it feels like you guys are secretly matching in an odd way. As he inhales the lingering scent of the new moisturiser you had wanted to try the night before, he’s reminded of all the laughs you’ve had in your tiny apartment ensuite.

Like when he tried to kiss you through the ill-fitting lip sections of a sheet mask, before you had pulled away, lightly swatting his shoulder and warning him about ingesting the serum. The subtle feeling of being close to you provides memories he carries with him everywhere throughout his day, like a badge of honour.

—————

[fieldofdaisiies]

Halloween Party

ship: Theodore Nott x Reader type: fluff/suggestive word count: 1,8k words warnings: underage (they are 17) smoking, drinking, sneaking out summary: Y/N and Theo attend a Halloween party hosted by the Slytherins and later on decide to sneak away

Your heart is pounding vividly. Music is sounding all around you, and in your ears.

You stand at the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room, excitement coursing through your veins as you take in the scene before you.

The Halloween party is in full swing, the room in front of you a wicked wonderland full of students dressed up as monsters, spiderwebs decorating every corner, and ghosts adorning the dark emerald walls.

The sconces' soft glow casts eerie shadows across the room. Jack-o'-lanterns flicker all over the room. 

In the centre of the room, is burning brightly, its flames casting a warm, inviting light upon the room. On the table in front of it there is a a lavish spread of Halloween treats like chocolate frogs, liquorice wands, and pumpkin pasties.The scents of these sweet and baked goods mingles with the with the musky aroma of fire whiskey (someone must have snuck it in) and the earthy notes of pumpkin juice.

You look around and spot your friends, all in their Halloween finery. Draco is dressed in an casual attire, not costume though. Pansy is a mysterious witch (more than usual, now dressed up and styled). Enzo, with a wicked grin on his lips, has decided to put on a werewolf costume, his body adorned with realistic fur and fangs.

And then there is Theo. The object of all your desires and your heart. Your boyfriend. And he looks absolutely dashing, with a mischievous smile playing on his lips. He decided to dress up as a vampire, his fangs visible, his hair neatly combed back. He looks stunning, you think and pull your lower lip between your teeth. 

His dark eyes lock onto yours, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. He flicks away his cigarette, of course making sure it is no longer burning and approaches you.

"Baby, you look stunning," Theo says, his voice low and smooth. "I can't wait to…let my teeth sink into your soft skin." He leans in a little, kisses your cheek and then your neck. He draws in a deep inhale, your scent and leans back with a smirk on his lips. 

You blush, feeling a rush of warmth at his compliment. You, just like Pansy dressed up as a witch, still wearing your robes, but the skirt is a little shorter, the blouse unbuttoned, the tie hanging loosly around your neck. 'All the other days you are a good witch, on Halloween you are a sexy witch,' is what Pansy had told you when you had gotten ready. You had laughed at her, but you have to admit you absolutely love the outfit and how it fits you. And how Theo looks at you — like he would truly love to devour you. 

"Well, you Mr Nott, look very dashing yourself." You bounce onto your toes and peck his lips. He tastes like Fire Whiskey — musky and sweet. 

He grins and offers you his arm, and you accept it with a smile. Together, you make your way over to a cozy corner of the room where a small group has gathered. Blaise Zabini is talking about their last Quidditch game (one they obviously won), his smooth, deep voice captivating the the people gathered there. He uses his hands, gesturing, to make his point even more clear. 

"Fuck Gryffindor," Draco chimes in when Blaise finishes, pouring a shot of fire whiskey for himself. His housemates are cheering, and so is Blaise. You watch them with amusement and think to yourself, men…

Draco offers Theo another two glasses, one for your boyfriend, one for you. Theo takes the drinks and hands one to you, his fingers brushing yours. The contact sends a pleasant shiver down your spine and makes warmth erupt in your hands. "A toast to Halloween, and to the most beautiful witch at Hogwarts," he says, raising his glass.

You clink your glass with Theo's, the fiery liquid warming your throat as you take a sip and then lean in to kiss him, this time a little deeper, tasting the whiskey on both your lips. 

When you lean back, the room seems to blur, and you find yourself lost in Theo's eyes. He leans closer, his breath soft against your ear. "Dance with me, Y/N?"

Obviously you say yes and follow him into the middle of the room, next to the table with the lavish goods and soon you are joined by your friends. A bewitched gramophone is playing a beautiful music and you sway together, lost in each other's company, his hands on your hips, yours on his strong shoulders. 

Laughter and happy fills the room as you all dance, big smiles gracing your faces. Everyone swirls everyone around but soon your return to your boyfriend. After a few dances, you and Theo make your way back to your cozy corner, and he pulls you onto his lap, your back perfectly fitting against his chest. You hum in delight, feeling his hard chest press against your back. 

His hands sneak around your waist, over your belly and he pulls you closer, his lips brushing from your collar bone up to your ear. You shiver at the sensation and jerk a little in his lap. "Theo," you whisper, voice tinged with reprimand. 

But your boyfriend does not care. He loves showing everyone that you are his. Normally, he is not so keen on the public display of affection, but it always changes when he drinks something. Then everyone has to see you are his, and only his. 

Theo leans in closer, his voice a sultry whisper that only you can hear when he says, "Lets sneak out to the Black Lake." 

You bite down on your lip and turn to look at him. His eyes have darkened, yet the promise of what would expect you shines brightly in them.

The idea sends shivers of excitement down your spine. And so you nod. It is exciting and thrilling, sneaking out with him in the middle of the night. It is not like you haven't met at night in either the common room or a broom closet before, but this is different. You are leaving the castle!

Out of the sight of the others, you slip away with Theo, your hand in his. A wave of thrill and ecstasy washes over you as you tiptoe through the hallways, the large corridors of the castle, hoping to go unnoticed. You really hope no painting will give you away, revealing you to the headmaster or some teachers. But you always stay close to the walls and the ground and truly manage to sneak out of the castle. But you stay calm until your far enough that no one inside the castle could spot or hear you. 

The Black Lake already awaits you as the chilly night air greets you. The moonlight casts a silvery path across the ground and leads you towards the lake. 

Theo removes his cloak and spreads it out on the ground for you to sit down. Once seated he immediately pulls you into his arms and kisses you. And when your lips part, his face stays within inches of yours and he looks at you. Just looks at you and it is all he does for a very long moment. 

Until he brings his thumb up and brushes it over your lower lip. "You are so fucking beautiful, Y/N. I am the luckiest man alive." His voice is breathless, a whispered promise to love you until the very last day of your life. 

Your breath mingles with Theo's when you lean in closer, lips nearly on his. "And I am the luckiest woman alive." Your lips curl when his press against them.  

His fingers brush against yours, and then move lower. Without much effort, Theo pulls you onto his lap, your bodies melding. A gasp parts your lips, but he does not let you escape, his hand buried in the hair at the back of your head, moving your head even closer, his tongue simultaneously parting your lips. He groans when you allow him entrance, his other hand sliding down to grab your butt. "The sexiest little witch I have ever seen," he rasps against your lips and kisses you again. 

Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the kiss, the world around you fading into the background. Everything turns into insignificance as you give yourself to him, your bodies becoming one near the lake. 

"Theo," you whisper, a hint of mischief in your voice. 

He nips at your lower lip and then lifts his darkened gaze to you. "Hm?"

"Didn't you say something about wanting to sink your teeth into my—"

He does not even let you finish, flipping you over, but of course making sure you land softly on the ground and his coat. His finds his place on top of you, your hips falling open, his hands braced on either side of you, lips and teeth attached to your neck. At first his kisses you, softly, gently, then he graces his teeth over your skin until he starts to bite down softly, nibbling. 

You know only magic will be able to conceal the terrible love bight he is giving you, but it is so worth it. Your back arches a little, pressing against him, against the hard ridge of his hardening length and a moan parts your lips. He groans in approval, both at the sounds leaving you and the feel of your body against his. 

He devours you, worships you. Praises you. Tells you how beautiful you are, over and over again. Your bodies come together under the moonlight, accompanied by the soft sounds of the water of the lake and the some owls howling in the nearby forest. 

Only a long time after, you return to the party, hand in hand, with secret smiles that only the two of you share on your lips. You know your hair is ruffled, cheeks flushed, costumes no longer looking as they did before you snuck out. Your lipstick is smudged and Pansy flashes you a knowing grin when she spots the two of you re-entering the party. 

You only roll your eyes at her, but eventually have to grin. 

"I love you," you tell Theo, kiss his cheek and then let go off his hand to walk over to your friends — Pansy and Astoria. You also want to spend the party with them, or part of it. Since you've started going out with Theo you've been spending less them with them and you miss them. Greatly. So, some time this evening has to be reserved for them. And you know that they are sitting on hot coals, waiting for you to tell them everything. 

Later on your once again joined by the boys and the night continues, filled with laughter, chatter and a few more drinks. 

It is a wonderful night to remember, full of love and happiness. Theo wraps his arm around you once again, bringing you in close. "But I am sure I love you more, my stunning witch." He kisses your cheek and intertwines your hands. 

[moirindeclermont]

Polin Kinktober day 8, prompts temperature play and rough sex.

Have fun!!

Since they are married, Colin discovered a lot of stuff about Pen he didn't know about.

For example, during their first winter together, he discovered she was always cold.

She was always trying to stay close to him, since he was "a living furnace" as she said. He liked it, so it didn't complain... But a wicked idea was forming in his mind.

That day, after returning from dinner with his family, he put his plan in motion. He took her by surprise, lifting her up bridal style, and then he brought her to their bed.

She was first protesting she was too heavy (nonsense) then she giggled, and finally she gasped as she saw his eyes, full of naughty intentions.

When she was on the bed, she waited for instructions. They already knew each other well enough to know when it was one or the other who wanted to take the rein.

He smiled, and, in silence, took a small object that he placed near the fire before they left. He made sure it was warm and not too hot, before asking for her (freezing) hand. She took the glove and extended it, allowing him to put the heater on her skin. She sighs, the sensation lovely and warm.

"I want you to get naked, so I can put this all over your body."

She didn't comply about the cold, as usual, instead she locked her eyes with Colin's as she turned around.

"Would you unbutton me?"

Colin smiled, putting the heater on the bed, before helping her with her dress. It was a quick affair, but when he had the beautiful view of her naked back, he could not resist to caress her with his hands, and then again with the heater, making her moan in delight.

"I wonder," he said slowly " if your cunt is warmer than this heater." Pen shivered and for once it was not from the cold.

He took his time with her, alternating his caresses with slow passage of the heater.

Her bosom reacted as his touch. Colin, still with his chest almost against Pen's back, put down the heater to cup her with both of his hands, making the flesh spill and overflow. "So warm here, so tender." She threw her head back against his shoulder, passing her hands between his hair and making him moan.

"More Colin. Make me more warm," she whispered and he kissed her deeply, before putting away the heater. He tore himself away from her to go again near the fire to pick some warm oils.

"Lie down," he ordered her, as he poured some drops of the oil on her skin. "Ahh, Colin," she sighed, as he massaged and kneaded her bosom, her lovely tummy... Making sure to not miss any fold of the skin. Then he repeated the process again with her thighs, not touching her core but just going near it. She was glowing in the fire light when he was done, and she was very warm indeed.

"Colin. I need you."

He chuckled. He went near her on the bed.

"Are you sure? Because if you want to be even warmer... I can help." He proposed, his hand going in between her legs to find out she was very hot there indeed. And soaked.

"Yes. Yes, Colin. Please."

He took a moment to kiss her before disrobing himself.

He took himself in hand and looked at her, thinking how he could take her.

He wanted to sink in her warmth and never leave.

"On the sofa, Pen. I'll take you near the fire."

Sweet thing, she took his instructions always so well. She was seated on the edge of the sofa, so he helped her turned around with her knees on the cushions and her hands were on the armrest.

"How do you want me, love?" He murmured in her ear, already knowing the answer.

"Take me Colin. I want to be warm."

He groped her again on her bosom and her derriere, going then further down to touch her warmest part. "Do you want me here?" He asked, his fingers rubbing her core.

"Yes. Yes, Colin."

He plunged inside her. She let out a gasp at the sensation of being filled so roughly.

Colin waited for a second to allow her to get used to him, before starting to push. He was relentless. She wanted warm and warm she was going to have. Pushing and pushing and pushing until she was sobbing, the cold forgotten until all she can do was whimpering and moaning.

He was rough with his hand as well, going through all the parts he had massaged before and grasping them again.

He rolled her nipples with his fingers, making her collapse on the sofa. He rearrange them, making her head rest against the cushion, her derriere tilted up, as he resumed the same pace, rolling her nipples in the way that made her core pulsing around him.

Her sounds were loud and intense as a first wave of release overtook her.

"Are you warm enough?" He asked as he thrusts. She sobbed. "More!"

"More? What a wanton wife I have," but he was delighted with that response.

He sat on the sofa, bringing her over him, her back on his torso "rest on my chest, love" he murmured as he lift her legs, opening them wide. The rhythm was fast and strong. Pen almost screamed. Her hands went over his forearm, scratching and grasping as her second wave took her. Colin could not resist anymore. His release overtook him too, filling her deeply as they both come down from their collective high.

He passed a arm over her waist, using his muscles to lift them up.

On the bed again, he cleaned them, making sure they both drink a bit of water. The bedroom seemed to be scorching hot and Pen was indeed warm. He hugged her from behind, for once not freezing when her hands connected with his.

"Are you warm enough now, my love?"

She smiled, too tired and overcome to speak, falling asleep quickly. Colin kissed her neck slowly and cover them both with a blanket. After warming her so well would be a shame to let her get cold again.

[vampzzi]

Hobie with Goth s/o babysitting Mayday and having her listen to music that kids her age don't usually listen to?!?!?

I just think the idea is super cute <3

COLORFUL BABYSITTERS !!

SPIDERPUNK X GOTHIC S/O

author note; YESSS, when I saw this I know I needed to see this!! This is kinda bad cause I’m sleepy but once it was submitted. It needed to be written immediately!!

— “ I’D LOVE TOO !! “ Hobie had asked if you wanted to help babysit Mayday since Pav was busy with his girlfriend and her modeling career. A lot of people would turn you down to babysit because of the way you dressed and the stereotype that had built off your genre. You had always gotten weird stares and random side conversations about you when you walked down the street on sunny mornings. But you had confidence in your style and you weren’t about to let some strangers ruin that for you.

Peter knew who you were, he’d talk to you numerous times and at first he was a little frightened but as he got to talk to you, he eased up with you and Mayday seemed to love you when you guys paid together. Sitting on the carpet playing patty cake or Mayday giggling while playing with your jewelry it was a sickly sweet sight Hobie couldn’t deny he enjoyed seeing you in. “'avin fun 'here love?” as he returned with baby food for Mayday.

“Having tons of fun” your black lips cracked in a smile as Mayday clapped her hands babbling something as you turned your head “what you tryna say?” you said curiously and Hobie just stood there with the baby food as you looked back at him “right, feeding her.”

Today was the usual, Peter had opened the door and welcomed you inside and he and his wife were off. Leaving you guys to tend to Mayday. She smiled and babbled when we walked into the room. “Hii Mayday” you picked her up out of the crib and held her close as she drooled and put her hand on her face. How about we play a game with your toys again? Just like last time?

Picking up her toy and shaking it as she got overly excited and Hobie was scrolling on his phone. “Come on Hobie, we’re gonna play.” Ushering him to join you and Mayday as you guys sat on her fluffy carpet as mayday picks up the doll as Hobie is sitting down on the carpet with both of you as you hand him a black haired doll. Hobie had noted previously she reminded him of her because of her clothing. “Looks jus' like you”

“Mhmm” you picked up a random doll and you guys played with the dollhouse that was also on the carpet. “Oh my god, the kitchen is on fire!!” You exclaimed as mayday giggled and Hobie chimed in “We should pu' i' ou'”. Agreeing with this claim as you guys pretended to put out the fire, Hobie managed to get a few pictures of you and mayday playing and then got a full video of all them playing for memories.

After a while it got boring and Mayday was getting bored and started whining so you guys switched to snacks and hair. Picking up Mayday and taking her to the kitchen as Hobie followed close behind, Hobie got her and helped her reach her Cheetos on the top of fridge and you settled on something to drink. When everything was gathered, you all headed back to the room.

You sat on the floor and Hobie put Mayday in your lap while he sat on the floor, relaxed a bit. “You should take her, wanna put your hair in ponytails” Hobie looked at you as you gave that look of adoration, he couldn’t say no to as he sat in front of you as you took some scrunches and toyed with his wicks before capturing them into a ponytail. Then the next one.

“Looking gorgeous babe” you let out a little chuckle and Hobie playfully punched your thigh “ha ha funny” as he switched spots again. You took Mayday into your lap and began to French braid her ginger hair as Hobie took the top of the container and handed her the baby Cheetos.

Hobie watched closely as you braided her hair“You’re so good a' 'ha'” he said while closely observing the way you worked with ease and quickness “My mom taught me when I was younger, It’s something I hold dearly to me cause I love braiding.” Hobie just nodded, the room was kinda silent and you disliked silence cause that was boring. “Hobie, you should play that song we love”

Hobie was unlocking his phone and clicking on his SoundCloud as he scrolled through the many playlist before finding the one you two share. “We share a lo' ov songs, we enjoy 'oge'her dove. Gonna 'ave 'o be mawe specific”. You clicked your tongue as you finished up Mayday’s French braid “Let’s go to bed by The Cure”

The song flicked on and the smoothing beat filed the room, as you nodded your head while Mayday looked up at you and babbled. “Not a lot of people your age get to listen to music like this, gotta let you get a variety of music” Hobie agreed “If 'ha' ain’' righ’”. You had gotten up and handed Hobie Mayday as you held your arms straight and began dancing to the beat, Mayday copying you and as she held her little arms out and began swaying them. You guys giggled as you began to dance to the music , the song drifted on for a while.

“We should let her listen to her to Strawberry Switchblade, I think she’d also like it” as the song turnt on you had sat down and laid on Hobie while the song played and was slowly dozing off as the music played in the background. It had only taken a couple minutes before she was slowly snoring. A long yawn was drawn out of you as you pulled her up and put her in her crib as Hobie turnt the music off while you tucked her in, kissing her head. “Sleep well Mayday”

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Wednesday | Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat

This Wednesday we have more of John's misadventures from his and Sabrina's AU as a treat. Starting up with a little snippet involving her mother, then moving onto his arrival for an impromptu dinner. Don't ask what happens inbetween to rattle the gremlin, that bit is still under construction.

Upon the call's end, John dropped his phone on the bed, finding himself unable to wipe off the grin that had taken over his face despite the noises next door continuing, and that only grew wider at the new message notification as he finally took out his newly purchased clothes from the bags he had spent a good while ignoring. "Wearing the suit from today again is out of the question.", he reasoned to himself while laying down pieces of clothing on his bed. He wasn't one to women's houses for 'dinner'. Hell, he usually avoided invitations like those like the plague, choosing to spend the night in a neutral place for both parties instead. His current predicament was definitely throwing him for a loop, especially since he had no idea what she'd greet him in. The thought Sabrina might not even have been asking him over for food made him forget the task at hand for a beat. "No. She insisted it's not like that. But what if… what if it is?", his eyes narrowed at the wicked possibility just when something crashed loudly in 310, putting an end to his embarrassingly long attempt at deciding what to wear, "Focus. And you can't sleep with her anyway, Duncan." The last part came off in a tone matching Clive's, yet the reminder did little to banish the desire within him. He settled for a dark gray wool suit and quickly decided to forego the matching vest and tie to go with them. Underneath, he threw on a simple dress shirt with a couple of buttons unbuttoned at the top since he still felt he could breathe easier without anything snaking around his neck like his father's iron grip from the olden days. "Don't think of them. It just makes you feel worse after.", John hated how his voice shook as he regarded himself in the bathroom mirror and did his best to focus on styling his hair in place instead of entertaining memories that belonged in the past.

"You're twisted, wrong. But we can fix it. You won't turn into a disappointment, John.", the words materialized on their own, a deafening cacophony of his parents voices that threatened to hang over him as a dark cloud. He slammed the bathroom door, set on leaving them back there to keep company on the persisting grunts of his neighbors, refusing to let anything ruin whatever his night with Sabrina would bring. On his way out, he grabbed his coat and came to an abrupt halt at the heels sounding in the hallway as he anticipated an unpleasant run-in with a certain redhead. When both the silence aside from the couple's usual noises and a look through the peephole hinted at the coast being clear for him to make his escape, he promptly exited his room and for once luck seemed to be on his side with the elevator remaining empty. The ride down to the lobby seemed to last an eternity and the second the doors opened, he was greeted by another unpleasant sight: the brunette that had checked him in on his first night was deep in animated conversation with another employee, both appearing completely oblivious to his approach as she let out a sigh after saying way too loudly, "He called to complaing about the noise like dozen times. I don't know what he expected me to do, and I swear, Lucas, anytime 310 would pick up, they were still doing it while talking to me." "Shit.", the man whispered before asking, "When are they checking out? Do you think it maybe turns them on to have an audience?" "I don't know. But I'm not paid enough for any of this. Let alone being forced to listen to a man half-talking, half-moaning over the phone. I've never wanted to hang up more." "Want me to go get you something sweet?", a hand grasped hers, and she finally cracked a smile at the suggestion. "At least I have you here." John shook his head at the display of affection and blantant discussion of guests out in the open, drawing closer to the two and clearing his throat to grab their attention.

The gleam in the receptionist's eyes evaporated when they moved to his and she quickly shook off her collegue's hold, smile dropping for a second before she forced it again. "Good evening, Mr. Duncan", the name made the man spin around and echo her greeting with narrowed gaze. "I will be right back, Jules." She nodded despite looking like she wanted anything but for him to leave all of a sudden. "Good evening.", John muttered evenly as he leaned against the reception desk. "Is 310 still giving you trouble? I'm really sorry about-" "Yes. For two hours now, miss.", he cut off her apology, "But I'm not here because of that." If he didn't have other plans, John's next course of action would have been to ruin her night like his had been, especially after the way nothing had actually been done to ensure the noises from the room next to his would cease. Not to mention gossiping about me to your colleague. Still, for once he pushed down the urge to put someone in their place with Penny's drunken call fresh on his mind, trying to imagine how Sabrina would take on the situation. With kindness, most certainly.

His words seemed to put her at ease a little, "Oh, I truly am sorry to hear that, sir. How can I assist you then?" "I need you to call a car for me." She reached for one of the hotel phones, "Cab or personal driver?" "Whatever would get here faster." She nodded and dialed a number, talking in a hushed voice into the receiver as his baby blues shifted to the hotel's entrance, giddiness making his body feel lighter. "30 minutes for a driver, sir. Would you like me to call you a cab in that case?", the news were a proverbial cold shower to the desire he felt at the thoughts of Sabrina, and he took a deep breath before facing the woman as she held the phone to her ear, clearly waiting for his answer. "I-" "Mr. Duncan.", heels sounded behind him before Candice Donovan was at his side, standing way too close for his liking. If he had to guess she was doing a little observing on her own, just like he had done minutes prior. "A cab.", he replied hurriedly, before turning to her and mirroring her smile, taking note of the expression she wore even better than the no doubt expensive dress that peeked through her unbuttoned coat. He had no doubt what it harbored. Intent to strike. "Nonsense, darling.", a hand landed on his forearm when she addressed the woman across them, "Julie, no cab would be needed." "I'm-" "My driver is waiting out front, Mr. Duncan. I will be more than happy to drop you off wherever you need to be.", her sweeter than honey tone put him on edge. "I appreaciate the suggestion, but-" She cocked her head, "I don't bite, Mr. Duncan. It's a simple gesture for a collegue." There's nothing simple or innocent about this 'gesture'. Yet accepting her offer meant getting to Sabrina faster and not having to climb into a cab and potentially get into more trouble on his way. Her arm wrapped around his elbow, pulling him towards the exit as the receptionist muttered a quiet, "Have a great evening." Candice released her hold the second they were on the curb, slipping into the backseat of her car when John pulled open the door for her in place of her driver and silently cursed the manners instilled into him. Don't do it. "You coming, darling?", she questioned with a smirk and despite all of his instincts warning him how bad of an idea it was, he climbed in, too, putting as much distance as he could between them. "Reginald, we will be making a stop on the way. Where are you headed, Mr. Duncan?"

[John's] hand rapped on the door, heartbeat picking up again when he heard footsteps approaching and it swung open. "Hey.", Sabrina uttered out with a smile and he wasted no time in crossing over the threshold and wrapping his arms around her. He pulled her in his embrace, face burying in her soft hair as her scent invaded his senses. "John?", she asked in confusion, amusement instead of alarm coloring her tone at the brazen greeting, "Are you okay?" "I had the worst night imaginable… just humor me for a second. Then you can tell me how strange it is." Her hands that had stayed by her side to that moment gingerly encircled his waist, "I was starting to wonder if something had come up or maybe that you had decided to ghost me." No matter that he knew the hug was dragging for far too long, he couldn't bring himself to let go, until she spoke up again, "John? I'm kind of freezing here." Her words were his wake up call, eyes swooping over her form, the denim shorts, top and thin knitted oversized cardigan she wore as she wrapped her hands around herself. "Sorry.", he muttered before moving out of the way so she could shut the door and stop the cold from entering the house further. He watched her head down the hallway as he remained glued to the spot, feeling absolutely out of place and realizing he had, in fact, overdressed.

"You gonna stand by the front door the whole night?", she asked quietly, eyes shining with mischief. "No. Of course not.", her bare feet and shoes lined on a rack at the entrance told him he was expected to take his off, too. Her attention remained on him, making him worry he was fumbling with something as simple as that, and she was seeing through his poised act and how nervous he felt deep down. Get yourself together. He quickly stored his loafers by the door, deciding it would be too far to put them among her own, then shed his coat and threw it over his arm. Silently, he followed her deeper into the house, the same way he had at her precinct, and just like back then, her oversized cardigan did its hardest to conceal his view. The first thing to hit him about the living room, he found himself entering, was how it felt like a home, not the sterile spaces he had grown up in where everything had been for show, but meaninglessness if you glaced at it for too long. "Is it what you expected?", Sabrina asked, taking note of how he was looking around. "I-", he hesitated, not really having thought of what her home might look like, instead, his mind had been preoccupied with other less innocent things, "It's lovely." "Sit.", she pulled out one of the chairs at the dining table before disappearing into what he assumed was the kitchen. He slipped into the seat after placing his coat over the back of one of the empty chairs.

"Now, I know it's not fine dining.", there was uncertainty in her gaze when she rounded the table with a dish in hand, "But-" "I didn't come for fine dining, Detective. As long as Oliver doesn't jump out from behind the couch, I'm happy." He meant it completely and even more when she placed his dinner in front of him, his mouth watering despite the fact he had eaten already. "I was worried I would have to reheat them twice." "Sorry." She grinned, "Don't be. I just wanted to make a good first impression. Wine or are we behaving tonight?" He suspected he would probably feel tempted to agree to drinking poison if she asked with the same gleam in her eyes, "I could use a drink." She returned shortly with a bottle of red and two glasses, and before she could pour it, he got up, "Let me." "You're the guest-" Her argument was cut short when his fingers brushed hers, and he grabbed the wine, pouring a glass for her first, then for himself before sitting back down across from her. "To-", he paused as he raised his hand in a toast, "saving me from having to listen to whatever performance they had prepared for me as encore back at the hotel." Sabrina let out a laugh and clicked her glass to his, "Think they're still going at it?" "I'm not a betting man, but I would certainly bet on that." "That's some stamina, I'd give them that." "That's one one to look at it." "And you're a patient man.", she added after taking a sip from her wine. Not exactly.

She propped her head on her hand, focusing on him as he picked up his fork and took a first bite from what she had deemed "leftovers". The sautéed potato melting on his tongue with flavor that resulted in an embarrassing noise of satisfaction escaping him. "It's-" "Cold? Did it get cold?", her frown was another level of adorable. "Better than fine dining." She huffed, "You're pulling my leg now." "I'm not." The look on her face told him she wasn't buying the genuine compliment. "I mean it. The company is even better." He wasn't holding back by then, trying to blame his bluntness on the wine when he had barely taken a sip himself. "Right back at you, Mr. Duncan.", her smile was intoxicating enough by itself, he realized. Her fingers breezed over the stem of her wine glass, lashes fluttering before she added, "I got the flowers." His lips twisted into a smirk, yet something in her tone piqued his interest more, he took his time working on next bite then asked, "Did you like them?" "They were beautiful, but John," "Yes?" Her eyes rose up from her glass to his, "It was too much." "Nonsense."

"I hardly did anything to warrant you sending me a giant bouquet like that." "You stayed on the phone while a bat made an attempt on my life. Sending you flowers was the least I could do." She quirked up a smile, "A kill attempt? A tad bit extreme." "Not if you were there." "I did for a second wish to be a fly on the wall, not gonna lie." Her words made him shift in his seat, especially with the knowledge they wouldn't have been facing a bat issue had she been there, instead probably giving his neighbors a show of their own. "What did you do last night before I called?", the question left his mouth before he could shove more food into it. She laced her fingers together and bit her lip in contemplation, muttering nonchalantly, "Be good, and I might show you after dinner." Fuck. Don't go there, brain. It was too late, his mind drank her words like a starving man. Her playful grin didn't help the situation as John blinked slowly and did his best to keep his composure in check while on the inside he pictured taking her right then and there on the table, "It's nothing spectacular, so don't go expecting too much." You're killing me here. "Detective." "Mmm?" "I look forward to it.", his voice dipped, and she appeared completely oblivious to the effect her words had on him as she took a sip of her wine. More than you could ever imagine.

He finished his meal in record time while Sabrina swooped into telling him how excited she was about finally getting a development in one of her cases without actually revealing any sensitive information. As she did that, it took him a minute to remember he wasn't casing a witness and looking for weak links or potential violations of code of conduct. At least not yet. Her features lit up differently when she talked about her work, all of her emotions and dedication shining through. With nothing to keep him distracted, he eventually reached across the table and grabbed her hand, thumb caressing the inside of her wrist where her pulse picked up in a similar pace to his own heart. "Desert?", she asked slowly, adding more fuel to his desire. I'd take you. Gladly. Thankfully, he didn't say that, instead replying a simple, "What do you have in mind?" "I stopped by the diner again after work. Sav loves their chocolate pies, so I got us some. I know I told you how delicious they are, and then Ollie stole the only slice left…" "I'd love that." She nodded and rose up quickly, gathering his empty plate on her way out, "Be right back." John felt glad she hadn't asked for him to follow her because his pants were growing tighter by the minute in her presence to the point he was trying to picture himself in the freezing shower back at his hotel in place of all the fantasies plaguing him currently. So far, he was failing miserably. Sabrina reappeared next to him, startling him a little, "Your pie, Mr. Duncan. With a tiny delay." She placed a piece of the pie whose taste he had been trying to picture throughout the day after the show Oliver had made out of eating it. "And you?" "Me?" "Where's yours?" She shook her head as the realization hit him, "There's only this slice, all yours, Mr. Duncan. I've had it plenty of times."

Of course you're giving me your desert. His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist when she made a move to retreat to her seat, "Sit here instead." Hazel eyes darted from him to the chair next to his, and after a few beats, she complied. He dropped his hold on her arm to lift up the fork and gather a bite of the pie, bringing it up to her mouth first, "We're splitting it then, it's only fair." Her lips parted to accept his offering, the way they closed around the cutlery haunting him as he scooped some of the desert for himself next. Truly killing me here, Detective. The chocolate, whipped cream, and mousse tasted even sweeter, making him wonder if somewhere inbetween he was picking up on her own taste, too. "I will grab another fork.", she muttered, and before she had the chance to get up, he lifted his hand to her mouth with another serving. "We can share this one." His worry about taking things too far was short-lived when she let him feed her again. "Delicious, right?", her tongue absently breezed over her bottom lip when he took a bite. "Absolutely." The next time he brought the fork to her mouth and she licked at the whipped cream left upon the cutlery's retreat, he completely forgot about taking a bite for himself. His intrusive thoughts took over, the fork cluttering against the plate as he dropped it to grasp her cheek. "Remember that kiss from earlier, Sabrina…"

The look she gave him was a knowing one before nodding quickly. He didn't have to be told twice, leaning in closer to cover her mouth with his. The kiss began innocent enough with his lips moving at a slower pace over hers, testing the waters until he couldn't hold back any longer. Not with how sweet she tasted - far better than the goddamned pie on its own. Or the way she let out a sigh of content and kissed him back. His tongue used the first presented opportunity to sneak in, setting on exploring her mouth before meeting her own. Slow down. His hands had other ideas as one of them hoisted her by the waist until she was out of her chair and onto his lap while the other angled her face to deepen the kiss. Her fingers traveled up his arms until they came to rest on his shoulders, and she seemed just as lost in the sensation and dance their tongues had slipped into. Until she pulled back as if finally remembering herself. "John.", his name was a whisper when she leaned her forehead against his, sounding as breathless as he felt while his heart carried on the reoccurring faster rhythm. Go ahead. Ask me… I'd take you to bed, Clive, Mooney, anyone be damned. He waited for the anticipated question to come as they remained in their position until a phone decided to ruin the mood. Sadly, not his. Otherwise, he would have thrown the pesky device across the room, not caring who had decided to call, or if it would survive the flight.

"Tell me you're going to let it go to voicemail.", he said against her lips before diving in for another kiss while the ringing persisted. Whoever had chosen the worst moment to require something for her, was dead set on reaching her. "I can't.", she broke their liplock and gave him an apologetic look, "It might be important." Sabrina clambered off his lap and rushed out of the living room as she pulled her phone out of her cardigan. "I will be right back.", she called out quietly before greeting the person on the other line. Minutes ticked by, the tingling in his lips fading away while he sat at the dining table with his gaze pointed at the kitchen doorway, hoping she'd reappear and pick up where they had left off. Eventually, he got up and walked over to the unlit fireplace, taking the opportunity to take a closer look at the photographs she had on the build-in shelf above it. A dimly lit group shot of Sabrina squished between what he guessed were fellow Detectives at her presinct, if Oliver's presence was anything to go by. The man from her phone homescreen was among the unfamiliar faces and had his hand over her shoulder, the look he wore leaving a bad taste in John's mouth. He forced his attention to a different frame - her and presumably her sister smiling brightly at the camera with an impressive lake surrounded by pines behind them. Another vacation shot stood next to it - a photograph of a young, dark-haired girl hugging a man, the gray in his hairline matching Sabrina's. "Sorry.", she mumbled as she came to stand by John's side, having sneaked up on him yet again, "I'm the worst host." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye as he returned the frame he had picked off from the shelf. "Nonsense. I was keeping myself occupied." "I can see that."

"Your father?", he guessed as he nodded at the picture in front of him, noting the absense of her mother. "Yeah.", the way she hugged herself made him think he should have picked a different question, the fact she offered nothing more just cemented the theory. "Everything okay with the call?" She nodded, "Yeah." God. That word again. The moment is totally gone, isn't it? He turned to face her fully, "It's getting late… I should probably get going, Detective." It was the last thing he actually wanted to do, but the call had inevitably broken the spell between them, leaving an air of awkwardnes to lurk around. Sabrina shifted her weight from one foot to the other, seeming uncertain at the announcement, "Oh, okay." Yet, instead of marching over to the table and grabbing his coat then wishing her goodbye, he took a step forward, his hand grasping hers, "Do you want me to?" Her gaze searched his face, and he held his breath as he waited for her answer, "Not really. No." "Really?", the corner of his mouth quirked up, pride taking over at the fact he had read her correctly and he still had a chance. "I mean, I assume you plan on grabbing a cab to your hotel?", he nodded, so she continued, "And there's no guarantee your lovely neighbors won't be continuing with their shenanigans in the early hours, especially with what you told me…"

He bit back a smirk at her explanation, seeing clearly how she was trying her best to explain her reasoning behind whatever she had on her mind, when he would have all the right to complain if 310 were still going at it upon his return. "It's probably too forward. Hell, it's definitely too forward. But I was going to offer you to stay here, I would be less concerned, especially with your track record." "You're worried about me?", another step brought him closer to her. "About you getting back in one piece after dragging you across town to see me. I was confident you would be just fine at your hotel yesterday, and then the bat happened." "Ask me.", he whispered as the air around them grew heavy, excitement coursing through his body. "You could stay here… if you want.", Sabrina tip-toed over asking him plainly. Close enough. "Are you going to make me sleep on the floor?", he pushed further, the worry he had been too direct dissipating when she smiled at the remark to her previous joke about her "harem" of men. You certainly have enough potential candidates in the photo. "Nope. As long as you behave yourself and don't get my house infested with critters." A smirk broke free, "The couch?"

"I was going to offer you the guest room, Mr. Duncan. It would be gentler on your back. Just on one condition…" Her smile was quickly pushing through all the conviction he had for holding himself back, pulling him in. He chuckled as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, "Yes?" "You have to promise me to take no legal action for anything potentially going wrong while you're residing on the premises." His eyebrows shot up in surprise, "You really are worried." "Can you blame me?" "Absolutely not." "I will need it in writing, by the way…" John groaned, "Sabrina." "Kidding." "I promise.", his face drew closer to hers until their lips were almost touching, "As long as you promise you'd come to my rescue again if needed. Civilian status and all that." Before she had the chance to respond, his mouth descended on hers while he pulled her into him by the belt loop of her pants. Her hands locked around his neck, slipping into his hair and setting on undoing all the efforts and time he had put into styling it as their lips fought to prevail over the other. John kept his fingers from working on taking off her clothes the way "that wicked side" of him beckoned them to do. Patience. Or you'd actually sleep on the floor or worse, she'd change her mind completely. He doubted the usual methods would work, reminding himself he wasn't threading in familiar waters, that she didn't exactly fit in the category of women he usually dated. This time around, it was him who broke the kiss, stroking her cheek while he backed away a little, enough to gaze into her eyes. Self-control. You have it somewhere within yourself, Duncan. "How can I refuse to help after that?", Sabrina said with another smile, skin flushed where his beard had rubbed against it. "I'm torn if perhaps I should wish for trouble now." "Hilarious.", she smoothed a hand down his suit jacket, "Come then." She aimed for another doorway across the kitchen just as he returned to the table and pulled a pen out of his coat's inner pocket, scribbling away at his unused napkin from dinner. "John?", she noticed he wasn't following and moved behind him in attempt to take a peek over his shoulder. "Almost done." "What are you-" He slid the napkin and pen over to her with a smirk, "All you need to do is sign on the dotted line and the contract would be in place." Her eyes scanned his make-shift agreement before she let out a laugh, "I truly was joking."

Tagging, @adelaidedrubman @strangefable @florbelles @unholymilf @corvosattano @onehornedbeast @jillvalentinesday @voidika @nightbloodbix @quantum-lover @wrathfulrook @trench-rot @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @cassietrn @theelderhazelnut @harmonyowl @thesingularityseries @the-silver-chronicles @simplegenius042 @purplehairsecretlair @dumbassdep @g0dspeeed

[starbuck09256]

Popcorn and horror

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023

Season 2 Mulder has missed Scully.

Mulder POV

I knocked on her door, bouncing slightly on my heels. I have popcorn and one of those horror films she loves. She’s here, back from a place she still has no memory of. While I beg in my mind to find out more about what happened to her, her distant looks and the way she touches her much longer hair have caused me to take a step back from my normal interrogation style of curiosity. In truth, while I am desperate to know where she has been, I have missed her immensely in these last few months. I still wake to her voice on my voicemail, screaming for my help while I imagine the horrific truths of abduction stories I have heard. Even though it is Saturday night and she could of course be out, living the life that was taken from her for days on end, I’m hoping almost praying that she is home. That she is wrapped in those big fluffy robes she likes. I wait with my next breath stuck in my throat in anticipation. 

Her soft footfalls are barely discernable from the TV in the background. She opens the door and I am greeted by my brilliant partner, shorter than normal without her heels, in the big fluffy robe just like I imagined. I can’t help the large grin as it spreads across my face in sheer delight. I peek through her door, and she gives me a warm smile and a soft “hi”. “I didn’t know you were coming by? Is there a case?” her voice is curious. I don’t usually just show up at her door. No, I've been romancing her mind for over a year because nothing gets Dana Scully more interested than clues, muddled with theories and the small sliver of details I always withhold from her. She thinks I do it because then she could easily dismiss me at the beginning, but it’s not why I leave out certain things. I know she, like me, loves the challenge, she loves the mystery, and that is why I’m here on a Saturday night with a microwaveable bag of popcorn and a horror movie. I want to know more about the mystery that is Dana Scully. In fact, I want to know everything about her now that she is here to stay. 

She welcomes me into the apartment, its always tidy and smells of lemon pine sol. I look over to the TV and sure enough my lovely companion this evening is watching “Superstars of the Superbowl.” I can’t help my wicked grin. “I knew you would like it.” Even my voice is smug. She turns and clicks off the tv with the remote. “You know I’m only watching because of the defensive pick 6 with the 96 yard return.” I grin. Scully loves football. When we have a stakeout on Thursdays or Mondays sports radio is on, and to see her animated while the plays are read in the seat next to me is more than a turn on than I’m willing to admit. Scully even bets on the games. Several of the other agents in the bureau have learned of her prediction skills and are somewhat fearful of her growing accuracy. 

I hold up the horror movie, I know she had mentioned wanting to see it before she was taken. She gives me a smile that I’m somewhat convinced could light up all of space as she takes the case in her hand. “Put the popcorn in and grab the 2 beers out of the fridge,” she says already popping out the Superbowl highlights and sliding in our horror movie night. I dutifully pop the popcorn putting it in a large bowl for us to share and grabbing the beers. I kill the lights and sit next to her. She clinks my beer bottle with hers and settles in a little closer to me. My arm stretches out around her shoulders as I snuggle in for the night of terror. 

In the morning, when my eyes barely register the light shining through her sheer curtains, I feel her breath against my neck, her leg tucked in between mine as he body covers most of me. My hands have slipped under her shirt as I hug her slightly closer than I would have dared before. I’ll have nightmares for the next week from the film. But at least last night the women of my dreams kept the distant forces at bay. 

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan seeks out the Commander's warmth.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 2,912. Rating: all audiences.)

Chapter 27: Part Four

Orders flew across the Undercroft, as preparations began for the second test of the Arcanist’s red lyrium explosive.

This test was to take place not in Skyhold, thank the Maker, but the Dales. There was a vein of the stuff—not too far—that the Inquisition knew of, and would not mind seeing blown to smithereens. Its day of reckoning loomed.

But there was much to be done before that could happen. Not only was the device to be made ready—multiple versions, in the interest of study—but there was a remarkable amount of bureaucracy to tackle. Apparently, one required permission prior to detonating the countryside.

Therefore, whilst Dagna was preoccupied with runecraft and raw lyrium, Trevelyan, as her assistant, was left with the organisation of it all. Reports were to be made, forms of approval submitted. The usual nonsense—including, of course:

“Our escort,” said Dagna, stopping briefly, lyrium chisel still in hand. “The Commander should have it ready. Can you check with him?”

Trevelyan collected her papers, and nodded. “Yes, Arcanist.”

“Great! And be sure to remind him this trip is not for the faint of heart. I can’t have another dropper.”

After clarifying with Herzt what a ‘dropper’ was (one who collapses upon seeing the Arcanist’s more avant-garde work, like a soldier who’d attended her last Fade experiment), Trevelyan smiled.

“I’ll remind him,” she said.

And she was glad to. She needed to see the Commander—not merely for the fact their conversation last night had been interrupted—but for her own self, too. There was much on her mind, this morning. When they had spoken yesterday, he had brought such peace—she hoped that he might do so again now.

The route she took to his office could have been walked in her sleep, so familiar was it. Out of the Undercroft, into the Great Hall, through the rotunda, and over the bridge. Trevelyan stole a downward glance at the training soldiers as she crossed it, but saw no blob of red and fur amongst them. Definitely office, then.

She arrived at the Commander’s door, and left a knock upon the grain. The moment felt all too reminiscent of the last time she had done so, and the miserable spectacle she had discovered beyond. But the sound of his voice reassured her immediately:

“Come in!”

Not weak, not croaking. Good and strong. Commanding, even. She did as requested, and entered.

The scene within was equally promising. Despite the long night, the Commander appeared quite polished and put-together—hair styled, armour shining. He carried himself with great import, whilst regarding the various documents scattered upon his desk. Never had Trevelyan been quite so pleased to see him working.

He glanced up, and caught sight of her. His face, half-lit by the sun’s early rays, turned from stern to smiling.

“Lady Trevelyan,” he greeted, “how are you?”

Trevelyan wandered a little ways into the room, fingers flexing on the papers she held to her chest. “I am… it would be dishonest of me to say I am well,” she admitted, abandoning the lie of politeness. “My mind has not settled since last night.”

“I am sorry to hear it. Is there anything I can do for you? If you wish to talk—?”

Trevelyan smiled, but shook her head. “You have done more than enough for me, Commander. And the issue I speak of is… not what you think.”

Because the thoughts that plagued her now were not of the Comtesse’s comment or Trevelyan’s own misery. Rather, they had been overtaken by Lady Samient’s revelation.

Something wasn’t right about her leaving—and the mystery of it had kept Trevelyan awake until the early hours. But try as she might, she could not place her finger upon the solution.

At least it was an effective distraction.

“Hm.” The Commander shuffled his reports into a pile. “Is… everything all right between yourself and Lady Samient?”

Though she had said nothing of Samient, he knew. But—Samient’s intrusion last night had hardly been secretive. And if Trevelyan had mentioned nothing of concern to him before her arrival, then what ailed her could only have come afterward.

“Very astute,” she told him, “though—yes, all is well between us, but... she revealed to me her departure tomorrow. I suppose I shall miss her, is all.”

The Commander left her gaze, eyes focused upon his own thoughts. Whatever came to mind, he shook it away. “I see. I’m... sorry.”

“There is nothing to be done,” said Trevelyan, having ruminated upon it enough to know if there were. “If her father calls her home, to home she must go.”

This was the sole resolution Trevelyan had been able to think of. Acceptance.

“I… yes. I’m sorry,” said the Commander, putting on a transparent show of solemnity. Trevelyan could not help but wish it were real. Perhaps it would be, had he tried.

Had he tried, perhaps she would stay.

“Nevertheless,” Trevelyan went on, “these are not the matters I came to discuss.”

“Of course.”

“The Arcanist sent me to ask after our retinue, for the Dales. Have you arranged it yet?”

The Commander’s demeanour changed at once: spine straight, time for business.

“Yes,” he told her. “The soldiers selected are experienced with this kind of operation, and are well-trained, should anything go awry.”

No droppers, then. “Very good. The Arcanist will be pleased.”

The Commander pulled a sheet from his pile, and held it out to Trevelyan. “Here, your Ladyship. This is the list prepared.”

Trevelyan took it, and gave it a once-over, as if she knew to whom any of these names belonged.

“Thank you,” she said regardless. “I’ll take it to the Arcanist.”

She took a step for the door.

“Will you be all right, travelling?”

Trevelyan startled. She glanced back at the Commander, and saw that his dispassionate self was absent once more, replaced instead by relaxed posture and a softened gaze. The gentleness of his countenance was proof that they both knew to what he referred.

“Ah…”

“I promise you, this retinue will serve. Even beyond Skyhold, you remain under protection of the Inquisition.”

Trevelyan gave great effort to suppress a little smile, and failed entirely. “Thank you, Commander. Truthfully, I should be fine. I have travelled since… what happened, by necessity, and have grown accustomed to the feeling”—she thought not of her journey to Skyhold, but the many nights beforehand, spent hidden in the wilderness—“and we shall be travelling well clear of Ferelden.”

“Is that why you came here by the Heartlands?”

How did he know—? The gala. But that was so long ago. “Yes,” she confessed. “My parents intended to send me through Jader, but… it was too close. I requested travel through Orlais instead.”

‘Requested’ here meaning ‘begged through screaming tears’.

“The only other passage we could secure in time was through the Heartlands. Circuitous, but… better.”

The Commander nodded, appearing as if settled by these answers—yet he was not done with his questions. “If I may, do Bann and Lady Trevelyan… know what happened?”

Trevelyan froze; a candle flickered in the corner of her eye. She hoped, desperately, that he did not recall that they had sent her here without informing her of his past. For if he did, then there was no hiding their temperament in her reply.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I have told no one so much as you, but… yes.”

If there was a change in the Commander’s face upon receipt of this, then it was imperceptible. Yet, a hand toyed with the pommel of his sword.

“I see,” he said. “Do you like your home?”

A smile, born of practice, crept across Trevelyan’s face, and stretched her mouth as if pulled. This was one truth she could not tell him—for her own sake. Maker knows, Missy and Cara could always be outside the door.

“Bann and Lady Trevelyan were very kind to re-establish my title and allow me to stay. I have food and shelter, and I am grateful for it.”

The Commander did not share her smile. “I hope Skyhold… I hope you’re comfortable here.”

“Oh, I am.” There was no falsehood this answer, and so eager was she to say it. “One would not expect a fortress in the mountains to be so pleasant nor so comfortable, yet it is. And there is so much to do—I feel as though I have purpose, here.” She caught herself, before she rambled too long. “But of course, the people are quite delightful, too. Present company included.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m glad.”

“Well, now that I have my retinue and you have been flattered, I believe I have done all I am required to do.” Trevelyan stepped toward the leftmost door. “I should be off.”

The Commander watched with interest. “That’s—you have business that way?”

“Should I?”

“You usually leave through that door,” he said, indicating the same one she had arrived through.

True, it was quickest back to the Undercroft—but she planned to take her time.

“I thought I might walk through the courtyard,” she told him, pressing her back against the wood-grain, “before I am relegated to the Undercroft all the rest of the day.” Her weight cracked it open, and let gleaming rays of sunlight peek through. The Commander gazed at it.

“That sounds... nice.”

The longing in his voice was deeply miserable. A few minutes out of his office wouldn’t harm him. Would probably do him some good, if anything. Trevelyan grinned. “You may join me, if you like.”

He blinked. “What? Now?”

“Of course. You cannot be trapped in here all day, either.”

A faint smile creased his lips. His posture shifted taller. And then he caught sight of the document pile, still lingering on his desk, and his countenance fell.

“Thank you,” he said, “but I have to, ah…”

His words trailed away. Trevelyan kept up her smile. There was little else she could have expected—but the offer may yet have been more important than the experience.

“That’s all right,” she replied. “Another time, perhaps.”

“We have time together tomorrow.”

Oh. In all the havoc of preparation, that had slipped Trevelyan’s mind entirely. With the Commander’s strength returned, their pesky ‘competition’ was restarted. The Ladies would meet with him once more. And as she had already forgotten, Lady Montilyet had arranged for her to spend time with him tomorrow.

“I am afraid—with so much to do before our journey—it is unlikely I will have the time to see you, tomorrow.” When she saw his face fall, she added: “I’m sorry.”

“It’s… all right. I understand.”

He did not appear as if he understood. He appeared as if a pup denied its playtime.

“I’ll… we shall see, I suppose. I bid you farewell for now, Commander.”

“Farewell.”

With a shove, Trevelyan heaved the door open. The light broke in at last, spilling past her, to illuminate the downtrodden face of the Commander. She kept her eyes on him even as she slipped from the room.

‘Twas a shame, truly. But she would endeavour to enjoy her walk, regardless: it was bright and breezy up on the battlements of Skyhold, and the mere sight of such sunshine made her smile.

She took a moment, to step to the parapet, and look out over the valley below. Beautiful as ever, the low sun coursed its way along the frozen river, casting sparkles upon every facet of its rippled surface. Oh, Trevelyan liked Skyhold indeed.

Retreating from the battlement, she went for the stairs. A long flight, which would take her to the stables. She took her first step upon it—

—and heard the swing of a creaky door, with footsteps hurrying out. She glanced behind, to see what approached. Some runner on an urgent mission, perhaps, or a deeply-focused servant in the midst of their work—

Her jaw dropped. The Commander. Emerging from his office. Jogging over?

Surely, then, it was he who was on an urgent mission, yet—he slowed, and fell in step with her.

“The healers said I should get more air,” he explained, “if you don’t mind my accompanying you.”

Trevelyan closed her mouth, and let it form to a smile. “Well, I did invite you.”

Quite pleased with this response (were the expression on his face anything to go by) the Commander took it upon himself to gesture towards the stairs. His own little invitation. Trevelyan accepted, and, together, they made the descent.

“Shall this be an excuse to speak more of work?” Trevelyan asked, between the sounds of birdsong above, and the chatter of people below. “Or is there something else you wished to discuss?”

“Well, I—”

“We could always choose your favourite option, I believe: silence.”

He chuckled. “Whichever you prefer.”

“I think I should like to ask you about the novel you were reading,” said Trevelyan. “The romance. Have you had any chance to read more?”

Though clearly not quite at ease with the line of questioning, given the rub of his neck, the Commander endeavoured to answer her, regardless: “While I was recovering, yes. It’s… not very good.”

They reached the bottom of the stair, and Trevelyan turned to face him. “You said someone had recommended it to you? Who in Thedas inflicted such punishment upon you, Commander?”

He laughed, and shook his head. “You won’t be surprised by the name. It was Dorian.”

Trevelyan’s brow flicked upward. “Indeed, I am surprised”—they began to wander a meandering trail, winding through the stables—“I would not think Dorian the sort to read such trifles.”

“Yes, quite. I am beginning to think he was asked to read it by someone else, and deferred the task to me.”

Trevelyan giggled. “Now that sounds more like him.”

A hart took interest in their nearing, and leant its face over the stable door. Trevelyan paused, reaching her free hand up, to stroke its snout. The Commander offered to take her papers, so that she might use both.

“Thank you,” she said, giving the animal’s fur a good rub. “You know, if you’d like a recommendation for something better, Lady Erridge is quite the expert on romances.”

“I’m not sure I’ll have time to read another.”

“Not minutes ago, you didn’t have time to walk with me. And now look at you.”

The hart withdrew, having had its fill. An equally-satisfied Trevelyan took back her papers. The Commander smiled.

“You always know what to say.”

“Hardly! I knew nothing of what to say when I saw you emerging from your office just now.”

“Those were… extraordinary circumstances.”

“Extraordinary indeed,” she teased, quietening to say, “though I am glad you joined me.”

“Ah…” He avoided her gaze. “Good.”

They slowed to a stop. Their path had come to an end, their walk threatening to end with it. But Trevelyan, as if suggestion, threw a smile and a glance in the direction of the stores. Despite his shyness, the Commander obliged.

Side-by-side, they strolled, trundling past swarms of staff as preparations commenced for tomorrow’s delivery. Maids and pantlers alike kept a wide berth, from the approaching Commander and his... companion.

“After last night, I could hardly say your company is not welcome,” Trevelyan told him. “I am eternally grateful for your kindness to me, Commander. I shall not soon forget it. Thank you—if I haven’t said it enough.”

“It’s… it was the least I could do,” he mumbled, adding, “I did think that Lady Erridge was, ah, very helpful herself.”

Trevelyan thought this an understatement. Lady Erridge had been Maker-sent last night, and was fifty percent of the reason Trevelyan felt the strength to get out of bed this morning.

(The other fifty percent was the man currently speaking to her.)

“She is a very good woman,” Trevelyan agreed. “As I have tried to convey previously, Commander, the other Ladies are quite excellent people. Lovely, all of them.”

The Commander hummed. “They are… more naturally your friends than mine.”

Only her appreciation for the Commander’s actions prevented Trevelyan from peforming an eyeroll so powerful it could have obliterated half of Skyhold. One tends to become friends with those they try to befriend, Commander! Such excuses!

But there was little time for her to express this frustration in some sarcastic comment or another, as a servant finally dared to approach. Running. In a state of panic.

“Lady Trevelyan!” called the maid, whom Trevelyan recognised from the previous delivery she’d attended, and from Lady Erridge’s kitchen ‘incident’. (Of course, Trevelyan had since discovered her name was not this string of events, but was, in fact, ‘Wrehn’.)

“Are you all right?” Trevelyan asked.

“Sorry, your Ladyship; sorry, Commander,” Wrehn said, eyes wide, “but if I could beg your Ladyship’s assistance? I’m ‘fraid it’s a matter only you could help us with.”

“Is everything all right?” the Commander interrupted, glancing between them.

Wrehn repeated herself: “It’s only a matter her Ladyship could help with, Ser.”

Trevelyan could well imagine what. “I suppose I shall see you later, Commander. Thank you for the walk.”

He bowed. “Thank you, your Ladyship.”

With one, last, quizzical look, he accepted that this was, frankly, none of his business, and left them to it.

And once he had disappeared, Trevelyan turned to Wrehn:

“What has Lady Erridge done now?”

“It’s not Lady Erridge,” Wrehn answered, “it’s—well, you’d best come see!”

[biblioklept-writes]

The Foreign Queen, Part 5

Aemond Targaryen x Desi!Reader

Summary: Alicent had invited you the feast to get to know Aemond better, and you properly spoke with the Prince for the first time.

Alternatively, Aemond finds you full of surprises.

Word Count: 2.5k

Series Masterlist | HOTD Masterlist

You had found yourself dressed in an elaborate Westerosi gown, the red silk soft against your skin. The corset they had put you in was… strange, having your chest and waist squeezed into place. As for the hair,  your handmaiden, Kavita, had delicately fastened your gold tiara with a complex braid and the rest of your dark hair flowing. You felt like a bride, dressed in such fine red, for red is the colour of brides and married women in your culture.

“You will be the true beauty amongst these people, rajkumari,” Kavita said, her coppery complexion gleaming in the afternoon sun. “I am certain they’d have never seen a woman as exquisite as you,” 

“I hope your words are true,” You sighed. Always being one to dress for yourself, it would be perhaps the first time you had dressed to impress. You had an audience to present yourself to - your nation’s reputation rested on your shoulders. You reminded yourself of their mannerisms and food styles, when to start eating and how to speak in their tongue. With your luck, this would be the time you’d forget all english and sit there making a fool of yourself.

“The carriage is here for you, rajkumari,” Your personal guard, Raman, said. He was a big man - tall and built of strong muscles. “The One-Eyed Prince is here for you.”

“Oh,” you said. Oh no, what am I supposed to do? I don’t think I can do this. “Tell him that I’ll be out in a few moments.”

You stood up, examining your appearance once again in the large mirror, twirling around. The boned corset was a bit uncomfortable, and the multiple layers of skirts you had put on before the bright red skirt and the bodice. The mass of this gown could rival your lehengas for your elder brother’s wedding.

Finally exhaling your nerves, you smiled at Kavita before you stepped out of your room. Your lovely handmaiden followed you, ensuring that your dress and hair remained intact, at least until you reached the carriage.

Aemond’s presence was like that of a phantom. You sensed his presence before you saw him - there was a buzz in your nerves and your heart pounded erratically at his burning gaze. And you knew, even though he was missing an eye, he saw more than everyone else. He was power, materialised. People rose from their seats or thrummed in their place, but he brought motion in everyone: they respected him and feared him - and you weren’t so different.

His powerful gaze seemed to burn your skin through the heavy gown, but you held your chin high, meeting his void gaze. You wanted to learn his art of masking his emotions well, because you weren’t too sure of your brows - they always gave you away.  

The afternoon sun reflected the planes of his face, making it appear sharper than it was. His silver hair was impeccable as usual, and his leather eyepatch added to his odd charm. Adorning a long black coat over his usual black tunic, he looked much like the apparition of death as these people claimed. But Prince Aemond was ethereal to look at. And even if your parents denied the marriage proposal, you could pretend to be his for one evening.

“Princess Y/N,” He bowed, offering you his hand. His long, thin fingers shone with a wicked promise. He had the hands of an experienced blade yielder. 

“Prince Aemond,” You curtseyed, placing your hand in his. He was surprisingly warm. Blood of the dragon had fire. A small gasp left your mouth when he gently kissed your hand, his soft lips leaving goosebumps in their wake. Even Kavita had her brows raised in shock, while Raman’s hand instantly grabbed his sword. You quickly collected yourself and motioned him to loosen up.

“I have come to take you to the Feast.” Aemond declared, his voice smooth like ghee. He hadn’t yet let go of your hand. “Your guard may accompany us on a horse. Arrangements have been made for your stay in the Red Keep, Your Highness.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, my Prince.” You said, smiling. He opened the carriage door and helped you up, Kavita assisting with the multiple skirts. The coachman closed the door, and you waved “see you later” at Kavita. 

“You look especially lovely this evening,” Aemond commented, once you were both in the privacy of the carriage. “The Westorsi clothing becomes you.”

“Thank you, my Prince.” You chuckled, heat rising up your cheeks. “It is good to know that my lovely handmaid's efforts have paid off.” Giving him a clear once over from the tip of his boots to the silky hair, you said with a shy smile, “And you look quite handsome.” Ethereal. Fallen from the Heavens.

The shadows through the windows cast a woeful charm on his beautiful face. “You mustn’t lie for my sake.” he said, looking down.

“I think you are too harsh on yourself.” You said.

“And I think you are too kind to me.” He softly muttered, looking up, straight into your soul. A shiver rose from the tip of your toes, but you forced it to stop. “The Red Keep is still far away,” he said.

“And I want to know what a prince of Westeros does to pass time,” you asked, holding his piercing gaze with equal fire. If he was trying to intimidate you, you were going to intimidate him just as fiercely. “With everyone at your command, I don’t think you need to work a day in your life.”

“Well, I like to train with the blade,” He said, raising his good brow. “And I like to read.”

“A well-read swordsman?” You prompted, smirking slightly. Aemond’s tense shoulders and eyebrow relaxed, subtly, but you had been staring too intently. His being consumed the entirety of your focus. “We seem to be more similar than I initially thought.”

“What similarity did you think we had, my Princess?” He asked, curious. 

“You’ll find out,” You said, smiling sweetly. The more you spoke, the more confident you felt. “Eventually.”

“You are a dangerous woman,” He concluded, his lilac eye gleaming with something darker and deadlier than interest.

“And you are a dangerous man.” You stated, holding his steady gaze.

A spark had ignited in the carriage as the both of you fell silent, speaking without words with the setting sun and the cabin of the carriage as your audience.  

Only when the coachman stopped at the entry to the Red Keep did Aemond finally look away, even then the bastard had a slight smirk on his face. He didn’t look at you, the absence of his lilac gaze leaving you with a strange chill. As the carriage came to a stop in front of the castle’s entrance, a servant opened the door and Aemond stepped out, holding his hand out to you. 

The strange spark dancing between the two leaves as you exit the carriage, masks sliding back into place. 

The touch of his large, calloused hand against your smaller one brought you much needed assurance as you stood upright, smoothing out your dress.

Aemond offers you his elbow, and you place your hand delicately on this long black coat, able to feel the warmth of his taut muscles. It was selfishly comforting to know that he was just as tense as you were. Your little mistakes would be easily forgiven.

The boisterous talking and music could be heard outside of the hall. King Aegon and his Queen Haelena were already there, and the lords and the ladies didn’t shy away from impressing themselves. The guards opened the gates on spotting Aemond, and the crowd fell silent as he entered with the beautiful woman in red.

All the eyes were focused on you, and the only thing you could feel was judgement and condescension from your observers. But you didn’t look at them, opting to look straight ahead at the Queen and her mother. You briefly let go of Aemond’s elbow as you curtseyed and he bowed.

“Welcome to the feast, Princess Y/N,” King Aegon said, smirking as he raised his glass. “Do take a seat, and let us entertain you.”

Two spots had been left empty at the table beside Haelena. Aemond pulled a chair out for you and then sat himself between you and his sister.

“You look lovely, the colour red becomes you,” Haelena commented. “I wished I could accompany Aemond and Mother to your festivities, but I had to take Dreamfyre out for her long flight, she was getting irksome.”

“No worries, Your Grace.” you said, smiling. “You can join us for other festivities.”

“I surely will, Mother said it was a lot of fun!” She laughed, and it was the purest sound ever. “When do you have your next festival?”

“In two months time,” you said. “Our next big festival will be Rath Yatra.”

Aemond is sat between the two of you, eye going back and forth as you speak. You explain to them the significance of the festival and how Lord Jagannath and his siblings go to their “holiday home” for about 20 days and the loud celebrations of that day. You didn’t have the temple privileges of Bharat here, but your craftsmen had made little statues of Lord Jagannath and his two siblings.

“You have a very different faith than ours.” Aemond noted. He had a slight smile on his face from hearing you talk so joyously: your cheeks were flushed with merry excitement as the food was served and the wine started to pour. The orchestra started to play upbeat music, and the conversations faded into the background. 

The former Queen’s three children presently mingled with the crowd, greeting the noble lords and ladies of their land, assessing the traitors and the faithful. While the Dowager Queen Alicent was sitting beside you, admiring your appearance.

“You are the prettiest in this gown!” She said, making heat flush your cheeks. Perhaps it was the wine, but it made you a bit more prone to blushing.

“You look beautiful as always,” You loudly spoke over the music. She was dressed in a different green gown than the morning, looking no less stunning. “Green is your colour!”

“Thank you, my dear.” She said, eyes crinkling with a smile. 

You had developed an ability of sensing his presence before he came into your vision, holding a rare, shy smile on his ethereal face. Aemond’s lilac eye gleamed with interest and you didn’t notice people going to the dance floor, your entire attention again captured by this enigmatic phantom of a prince. You felt yourself smiling at his presence, and asked, “What brings you here, my Prince?”

“May I have your first dance of the night, my Princess?” Aemond asked, bowing with his hand extended to you.

“But I don’t know this dance form,” you said, panic settling in your bones. This is how I am going to make a fool of myself aren’t I?

“I will lead you,” He promised. “You won’t fall.”

“Alright then,” you said, accepting his extended hand. He was just so warm.

Aemond’s walk was confident as he led you to the dance floor, but you had never felt so timid in your life as you did now. You quickly observed all the other pairs dancing on the floor, and their impeccable postures and how they moved gracefully with the music.

“Place your hand on my shoulder, like this,” He took your free hand and gently planted it on his shoulder. And all you could think was he had firm muscles disguised by his lean body. “And I place my hand on your waist.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, looking at his face. He was slightly flustered himself, so at odds with the stoic image of him that you had gotten used to in the few weeks he had spent visiting your camp. “You’re not used to this, are you?”

“Hmm?” Aemond asked. “Not really no, I have danced with my mother though.”

“Aren’t you just the sweetest,” You said, grinning cheekily.

“It’s not sweet, actually.” He sighed. “The ladies of the court are repulsed by me.”

“As a lady of another court, I’d like to disagree.” You boldly said, leaving him utterly speechless. His lilac eye was wide and almost searching for lies in yours, you firmly held his gaze as he wordlessly guided you through the motions of the dance. After fumbling your steps awfully for a few moments, you got the hang of it, passing decent levels. It all came down to the fact that the more you did something, the more confident you got.

It was now Aemond’s turn to be timid and shy. He avoided your gaze persistently, managing to look shy, solemn and disinterested all at the same time. If it weren’t for the pink tinge on his cheeks, you’d think he was bored.

“You never did tell me what you like to read,” you asked as a motion led you close to him. He was fairly tall, and you had to look up at him to see his face, but you were glad you did because you could clearly see the slight curve of his lips as he smiled.

“I like reading the history of Westeros and Old Valyria,” he said. “And I love philosophy, the questions of our existence and the purpose of it. Though, I am also fond of strategies and a mild sprinkle of fiction.”

You couldn’t stop the grin on your face at his response, eyes twinkling with excitement. “You were destined to be my friend, Aemond Targaryen,” you said. “Although I do prefer reading science over philosophy, I cannot deny that the subject piques my interest. Oftentimes I wonder why, but I don’t bother to search answers,” 

“Maybe that’s something I can assist you with, Y/N L/N,” he said.

You learnt an interesting bit about him, conversations with him had to be initiated for this was a man who had lived in shadows away from the attention of the crows and didn’t need to speak much. His terrifying reputation and intimidating presence did it for him - how he was a phantom and a physical force, you did not know. You only knew that his silent presence allured you as much as it terrified the others.

And you weren’t certain if that was a good thing. 

The thing about crowds is that they jump to conclusions based on the perspective of a few. Nothing the folks had told you about the prince had come to be true - but there hadn’t been much to say either way. He was a quiet man, but a fierce presence - rider of the largest dragon in the world and a great combatant. 

But he was also a timid young man afraid to scare the ladies, someone who needed a push to start talking. You didn’t think he was capable of speaking so many words before this evening, but even so his eye spoke a thousand words more than his lips ever did. Understanding this man was more about picking up on the silent hints than waiting for his words. This might mean trouble.

Yet, you thought of the deep respect he held for his mother, the duty he felt for his family - always cleaning up his brother’s messes, you had gathered.

Perhaps it was this duty that he felt that made you believe that your father wouldn’t refuse the offer right away.

.

.

.

tags:

@km-ffluv @stargaryenx @thenovelcarnival @afro-hispwriter @mynameisbaby9

[yurayura-kurage]

A3! Troupe Event: MY WORST WEDDING | Event Story Translation (4/11)

Neither Japanese nor English is my first language so please forgive me if I made mistake. However, feel free to point me out, I’d love to hear your feedbacks on the translation ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

Translation under the cut

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Azami: Fuah~...

Kumon: Did you not sleep well?

Azami: I had a bit trouble falling asleep. I couldn’t tell Sakyo not to stay up late working on his stuff.

Kumon: Come to think of it, Sakyo-san’s sister came to our dorm yesterday right~. Did something happen?

Azami: Seems like she came to consult about Sakyo’s mother.

Kumon: Heh~. Sakyo-san’s mother is such a kind person, isn’t she!

Azami: You know her?

Kumon: She is nii-chan’s fan and she’s been supporting him all the time!

Azami: Ah–, is that so.

Kumon: I think she’ll come to Autumn Troupe’s next performance.

Azami: Now that you mention it, I’ve been thinking a lot ‘bout Juza-san’s hair makeup this time…

Kumon: Ah–! Wait! No spoilers here!

Azami: Hah?

Kumon: He’s a former soldier this time, so it’ll def be really cool... 

I want to know, but I want to challenge myself without knowing anything until the performance starts…!

Azami: That’s impossible. We’re in the same dorm after all.

Kumon: Still no spoilers anyhow!

Azami: Well, I haven’t decided on Juza-san's hair makeup yet. Only Taichi-san’s role Olivia has costume coordination today.

Kumon: Ah, Taichi-san’s role is the woman who deceives the grooms right? I’m really looking forward to it!

*Shifts to practice room*

Izumi: Taichi-kun, it looks good on you! The impression has drastically changed.

Taichi: Heheh, I’ve turned into a perfect beautiful woman!

Yuki: It’s not that bad, is it.

Banri: Heh~, Olivia’s hair is purple, huh.

Azami: I’ve thought about it a lot, but this will suit the scene when she appears in the story. 

The makeup also matches the color of the wig though, this looks fine. 

Then, I’ll remove the makeup after the photoshoot, so Banri-san, please try doing it this time.

Banri: Roger that.

*Short timeskip*

Azami: Make the line a bit thicker here–– About this much.

Banri: …It’s done.

Azami: As expected of Banri-san, your sense is good. 

Taichi: Oh~, it’s exactly the same as before!

Banri: When I actually tried Azami’s makeup, I can see that you think a lot about various things in detail. That’s awesome. 

Azami: Obviously.

Banri: Well, but I only did the makeup just like the sample photo, so once I get used to it, I think I’ll be able to speed up even faster right before actual performance.

Yuki: And the rest are the costumes that go well with this hair makeup but— I bring lots of outfits for you guys to base on.

Izumi: This time main focus is the hair makeup, so the costumes will be later.

Yuki: First of all, this and this, try adjusting the sweatsuit lightly. 

Taichi: ——How is it!?

Yuki: Your legs are so masculine!

Izumi: Zero’s costume was the one with the legs out right.

Yuki: Zero’s lively personality matched with the vibe Taichi’s legs give off, but the image this time is a bit different. 

If they are put out as usual, it’ll definitely look manlike. The makeup will be mismatched and out of place.

Taichi: I’ll lose my muscles before the performance~.

Banri: Building muscles might be within your reach, but isn’t it impossible to lose them?

Taichi: Uh, maybe if I try not to use them as much as possible…? 

Azami: You might not be able to move your body when you’re Noah.

Taichi: Ah~ That’s right!

Yuki: I’m not even asking for you to do something in particular. Just don’t gain any more muscles.

Since I’ll style the costumes according to Taichi’s body shape to match the hair makeup. Tighten his waist with a corset for example… 

I think it might work if we cover his broad shoulders with a jacket, and show his skin with knee-high boots.

Izumi: That sounds great!

Taichi: As expected of Yuki-chan!

Yuki: Even if you only show the very least of your skin, I think the key here is that you can create a sexy look of the wicked woman. 

Banri: I see… So there are various ways.

Azami: It’s also the same with different skin qualities though, it’s difficult to match because there are differences between men and women’s body shapes.

Yuki: It’s worth thinking about how to style the costumes for each roles considering actors’ body type anyway, I’m even more fired up. 

Izumi: That’s the best part of being a costume designer, right.

Yuki: Taichi too, if you perform on stage in the costumes that are fit into your body, you’ll be able to act with confidence, won’t you.

Taichi: Yuki-chan!!

Banri: Our costume designer is really reliable.

Azami: (You’ll be more confident if wearing outfits that look good on you…)

Izumi: Well then, I’m looking forward to the costumes too.

Yuki: Leave it to me.

Azami: …Yuki-san, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.

Yuki: ?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Previous || Next

[edogawa-division]

“I’m crazy and I don’t pretend to be anything else.”

Introduction

A.R.K or as he is otherwise known as “Aruto Shinozaki” is an android created by Wicked Requiem’s 2nd Member Kaoru Shinozaki, and is the “twin brother” to A.D.A/Ageha Shinozaki. A.R.K much like his twin is considered as good as family to Kaoru. However, unlike his kind-hearted sister, it seems like the absolute love and devotion Kaoru has given him over the years has allowed A.R.K to discover a twisted version of “humanity” becoming someone who would destroy anyone who dares to harm the ones he cares about, sending a message to any of his enemies that his family is off limits.

A.R.K is a young man of tall height with a lean figure with many considering him extremely handsome. He has short dark blue hair that is slightly wavy and reaches the base of his neck. He has six eyes which are a sharp gray with black sclera and whenever he goes out he expertly camouflages four of them. However, his eyes shift to blood red whenever he enters “Kill Mode”.  Around his mouth are several diamond markings giving him the appearance of a Glasgow smile.

Unlike his creator, A.R.K is quite fashionable, often seen in punk-style clothing. He usually wears a distressed long-sleeved gray shirt and black ripped skinny jeans along with a black and dark blue jacket. He also wears a harness around his legs, with several chains hanging from his belt loops and ankle-length black combat boots. For accessories, he wears several piercings on his ears and his right eyebrow, a black leather choker, and multiple leather bracelets around his wrists.

Name Meanings

Shinozaki (紫乃崎) - Violet Peninsula  

Aruto (亜瑠人) - Next, Lapis Lazuli, Person 

Aliases

“A.R.K”

ShadowSpider - Gaming Handle 

Brother - A.D.A

Nii-san - A.M.U

A.S Hiden - Pen Name 

“Boogeyman of The Internet” 

“Tartarus”

Biographical Info

Gender - Male

Age - 7 (22 Physically)

Birthday - August 31st 

Ethnicity - Japanese

Hair Color - Dark Blue

Eye Color - Sharp Gray 

Height - 195cm / 6’5

Weight - 196lbs / 88kg

Star Sign - Leo 

Piercings - Lobes, Helix, Industrial, Eyebrow

Markings - A symbol in between his shoulder blades, Diamond markings around his mouth

Family 

Creator / “Cousin”

“Twin Sister”

“Little Sister”

“Brother-in-Law”

“Sister-in-Law”

“Brother-in-Law”

“Niece”

“Niece”

“Nephew”

“Biological Son Nephew”

Voiced By - Gero (Rapping)

Personality

Despite being made of metal and synthetic flesh, A.R.K is disturbingly expressive with his most distinguishing features being his maniacal laughter and psychotic smile. His status as an android makes A.R.K near infinitely intelligent as he is constantly processing the whole internet through his mind. Making him a horrifying enemy to anyone unfortunate enough to earn his ire. Unlike his twin, who seems to care for everyone, A.R.K has little to no regard for life. In fact, at times, he seems to even enjoy taking it.

A.R.K is often brutal, arrogant, disrespectful, murderous, and sadistic. He has no issue with ripping apart anyone who gets too close for his liking, getting satisfaction from destroying and wreaking havoc either in cyberspace or in person. Taunting his enemies as they lie in front of him dying. Humorously, A.R.K gets a bit impatient during this, even tapping his fingers while waiting for them to croak.

A.R.K seems to treat nearly everyone around him as if they're pawns in a game of some sort. As such, he takes joy in observing events unfolding in front of him before he joins in. He often lies, manipulates, and even fabricates evidence to get people to attack each other. Doing this to see if anyone would be willing to provoke him so he can quickly put his opponent in their place by simply proving his superiority.

When around Kaoru and his sisters, he tones down the energy, softening a bit. He even relaxes and becomes more talkative, and his usually malicious taunting becomes much more teasing in nature. Even pranking them to get a little rise out of them. However, make no mistake A.R.K is fiercely loyal and protective of his loved ones with this bond going far beyond what was expected with A.R.K even gaining sentience because of it.

Much like his twin A.R.K developed what many would call a “Kill Mode”. When like this A.R.K drops his sadistic personality and becomes completely emotionless not even bothering to taunt his opponents. A.R.K is considerably more frightening in this mode than he is normally with his only objective being to get rid of the threat as quickly as possible. Thankfully, it's rare for A.R.K to enter this mode as he is more than capable of dealing with any threat in his normal mode.

Trivia

As part of his identity as “Aruto Shinozaki”, A.R.K claims to be Kaoru’s “cousin” who lives with her. 

His virtual form is the same as the symbol on his spine.

A.R.K has reached what Kaoru calls “Singularity” and is fully sentient and autonomous. 

A.R.K is Kaoru’s go-to twin whenever she wants to send a message to any of her enemies something that A.R.K is more than happy to help her with. 

A.R.K and A.D.A each represents a side of Kaoru. A.D.A is her cheerful energetic side while A.R.K is Kaoru’s malicious and uncaring side. 

A.R.K is the creator of a shojo manga called The Spider & The Butterfly under the pen name A.S Hiden. 

One of A.R.K’s main hobbies is to “haunt” people. One of his favorite targets is Tomi Chōten of Aoyama, often stealing money from his account and short-circuiting any technology in the Chōten Manor. 

A.R.K is good friends with Sumire Shinomiya’s A.I., Malphas/Masuzō Shinomiya with the two of them often secretly hanging out. 

A.R.K has a spider bot form, which he uses to discreetly follow people around. 

Along with helping Kaoru, A.R.K is in charge of operating [RETRACTED] with A.D.A. One of Kaoru’s more dangerous inventions.

[madsworld15]

New One-Shot: everyone I love will know exactly who you are (Brian/Justin)

I have written so much in the last few days, I'm proud of myself. This is my 4th prompt submission for the QaF Prompt Challenge 2024. This one is for the prompt: Loss of Debbie. (Prompt #4) [4/21 for me personally]

Brian looked at himself in the mirror. He was starting to grey along his sideburns and a bit on the sides of his head. Despite taking a shower together, Justin was already in their bedroom getting dressed for the day ahead. Brian, meanwhile, had gotten distracted in front of the mirror with nothing but a towel on. Justin came meandering back into the bathroom. Brian looked up at his husband and grinned.

Justin was wearing a forest green cardigan over a grey collared shirt. His dark navy jeans accentuated his hips and thighs perfectly. His hair was in that messy styled look that he’d loved for almost a decade now. Despite being in his early 50s, Justin looked almost as young as he had the day he’d left Pittsburgh and moved to New York, 30 years ago. Brian loved that Justin seemed to grow more and more gorgeous with age. While Brian lived in fear of frown and laugh lines, Justin embraced them. The skin in the corner of his eyes was permanently wrinkled and if Brian was being honest it was one of his hottest features.

“Hurry up! I told them we’d be there around 10:30. With traffic it’s going to take us almost 2 hours to get to Jersey.” Justin patted Brian on the shoulder and placed a kiss on the back of his neck. 

“Why are we going to Jersey again? Why didn’t we insist they come here?” Brian squeezed some skin product onto his fingers and applied it to his face as he glanced at his husband in the mirror.

“Because Violet is only a week old and shouldn’t be traveling. We can go to her much more easily than Gus and Natalie can bring her to us.” Justin gave Brian a knowing look.

“I still don’t know why they insisted on settling in New Jersey…of all places.” Brian shuddered and Justin chuckled.

“Jersey City is hardly the bulk of New Jersey. It’s just over the water.” Justin shook his head, applying mousse to his hair to keep it in place. Then, he leaned over and stole some of Brian’s aftershave.

“Ugh.” Brian groaned, as he turned and wrapped his arms around Justin, “Why must you put that on when you know I can’t fuck you into the mattress like I want to.”

“I like your aftershave better than my own.” Justin gave a wicked grin and kissed Brian on the lips before pulling away completely. “Our car service will arrive in 15 minutes. Make sure you’re ready by then.”

Ten minutes later, Brian was in a pair of jeans and his well-worn black sweater. He was fiddling with his watch band when his phone lying on the bed started to ring. It was Michael, so Brian chose to ignore it. He watched as the phone went to voicemail, finally succeeding at getting his watch on.

Justin entered their room a couple of minutes later. His face was pale and he looked as though his tongue had been cut out. Brian was immediately on high alert. 

“What’s wrong?” He crossed over and placed his hand on Justin’s bicep.

Justin looked toward him, swallowed hard, and finally spoke in a soft, broken voice. 

“Debbie’s gone.”

“What?” Brian looked at Justin in confusion. “No, I just spoke to her on the phone the day before yesterday. She was fine. All excited about Violet.”

“Brian, that was Michael on the phone. He said she passed in her sleep sometime during the night. He’d gone to have his usual morning coffee with her and found her.” Justin repositioned himself to be fully facing Brian and placed his hands on each of Brian’s arms. “She’s gone.”

Brian’s brain short-circuited. His mom couldn’t be gone. She was the kind of person that was intended to live forever. She was only in her early 80s. This wasn’t supposed to happen yet. She was supposed to meet Violet next weekend. Her great-granddaughter. Brian stared into the deep blue abyss that was Justin’s concerned gaze. He couldn’t formulate the words to describe what he was currently feeling and thinking.

How was he supposed to go visit his son and daughter-in-law as if things were business as usual? How was he not? Brian took a deep breath, trying to center himself and figure out his next move.

He looked at Justin, finally able to speak, “We should head downstairs. The car will be here soon.”

“Brian.” Justin tried to object. Brian looked at him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Let’s go. Gus and Natalie are expecting us.”

“They’d understand if we want to reschedule. We just found out some devastating news.” Justin fiddled with the shorter hairs just above Brian’s left ear. His voice was low and soft, as if he felt he needed to give Brian permission to feel things.

“We should go.” Brian repeated. He didn’t have time to worry about his grief for Debbie. They had plans that could be accomplished today, whereas no matter what else happened Debbie would still be gone. Not going to visit his granddaughter was a waste of time.

“Brian.” Justin cut in again, preventing Brian from walking out the door of their brownstone.

“Justin. I would much rather go see my son and granddaughter. Sitting around here thinking about her being gone isn’t productive.” Brian shrugged and managed to break free of Justin’s grip.

During the ride to Gus and Natalie’s, Justin kept looking at Brian as though he wanted the man to talk about his feelings, but he didn’t broach the subject. So they sat in silence for most of the ride. Brian’s thoughts swirled about what it meant to be alive in a world where Debbie no longer was. She had been the closest he’d come to having a loving mother. His thoughts also thought of Michael and the rest of the gang. How would everyone be taking the news?

Brian glanced over at Justin to find he was silently letting tears fall down his face. Brian reached over and clasped Justin’s hand in his own. The blond turned to look at him and Brian tried to convey how much he understood what Justin was feeling without uttering a single word.

“It’s going to be weird.” Brian’s voice came out croaky as he tried to hold back tears. “Being a grandparent without having Debbie a call away for advice.”

“How do you think I feel? My mom has been gone for a couple years now. How does life continue to exist without them both in the world?” Justin’s voice caught in his throat, so he cleared it forcefully.

A silence fell between them again. They passed a sign welcoming them to New Jersey. Brian knew they would be at their destination before long. Just as the car pulled up, Justin cleared his throat again and turned to Brian.

“Do you regret it?” Justin looked toward Gus’ house, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

“Am I supposed to be able to somehow decipher that?” Brian commented, following Justin as the blond climbed out of the car. He turned to the driver, “We will be done in about an hour if you’ll just come back then.” 

Brian handed a couple of twenties to the man and closed the door behind him. Justin was waiting for him on the sidewalk. 

“Having a child together?” Justin motioned toward Gus’ house, “More than having Gus I mean.”

Brian wrapped his arm around Justin’s shoulder, “What brought this on? I thought we’d both agreed that children were not something we wanted.”

“I know, but I guess losing both our moms now has me thinking about what happens to us when we die. Who will remember us? Aside from Gus? Should we have had more?”

Brian stopped Justin just short of reaching the front door. “Justin, I say this with the utmost sincerity. Wanting a child so that we aren’t the last of our family when we die is not a reason to have kids. You’re just saying this because the death of it all is freaking you out.”

Justin nodded, “You’re right.”

“I always am.” Brian winked at Justin and chuckled as he pushed the doorbell.

Moments later, a young woman with flaming red hair answered the door and broke into a bright smile. “Brian! Justin! Great to see you.”

“Hey, Dad.” Came from the hallway behind her. “Jus.”

Brian side-stepped around Natalie and embraced Gus in his tight hold. Justin, meanwhile, hugged Natalie so that she didn’t feel completely ignored.

“Did Michael call you?” Gus asked once he and Brian stepped out of their hug.

Brian nodded, “He caught us just as we were headed here. We decided to still come despite everything.”

“Yeah, there’s not much we can do for Michael today. Might as well come meet your granddaughter, old man.” Gus winked and slapped his dad on the shoulder.

“Don’t you dare call me the G word.” Brian pointed a finger at Gus and gave him a stern look.

Gus threw up his hands in protest. “I would never!” He paused for a beat before he continued, “Though you must admit it’s quite something that the week you become one I lose my last remaining one.”

“Don’t remind me.” Brian muttered, as he leaned over the crib and saw Violet for the first time. His mind flashed back to the day Gus was born, tears pricked the back of his eyes.

“She’s beautiful.” Brian breathed out, around his tears. “Can I hold her?”

Gus nodded and turned to pick up his sleeping daughter, as Justin came up and wrapped his arm around the small of Brian’s back. The blond leaned on his shoulder, staring at the brand new baby girl as she was placed in Brian’s arms.

“I’m reminded of the night I met you.” Justin whispered. “Only you wouldn’t have dared let me this close to you or him at that time.”

Brian turned his head slightly to address Justin, “I did let you name my son, if I remember correctly.”

“The way Gramma Deb always told it Momma Mel flipped shit that you couldn’t even remember Justin’s name but you let him name a child.” Gus smiled at the two men he’d always considered his dads.

“Yeah, Mel wasn’t happy. But I also think she’s just bitter she didn’t win the name war with her choice.” Brian looked at his son and smirked. “Thank God for that. I won’t have any relation of mine being called Abraham.”

Brian looked back down at his granddaughter and rubbed his finger along her cheek. She stirred slightly, moving her fist up to sit against the side of her head and worked her jaw inside her closed mouth. Brian had never really had an affinity for children, but he was in awe of Violet. 

“Deb was so excited to meet her.” Brian breathed through his unshed tears, “It’s a shame she won’t get the chance.”

“She will always be with her.” Natalie chimed in, her voice quiet, but commanding. “Violet Deborah Peterson-Marcus.”

Brian looked between Justin, Gus, and Natalie, a sad look on his face. 

“I love it,” he mumbled, looking down at the latest addition who’d already stolen his heart.