#need to reply to like five different messages. absolutely 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

[voxsmistress]

Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo - Part Sixteen!

Hello my gorgeous little demons - I am so sorry this took so long to post! These past few weeks have been hell at work! But never fear, I will always get to writing when I can!

Now ... we've had Voxie's turn, it's Valentino's now ;)

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen Trigger Warnings: Sexual themes, no under 18's allowed, sexual shenanigans, second time writing smut (be kind), Val being his usual sarcastic self!

A few days had passed since your little tryst with Vox, and you were slightly embarrassed that the next day after you basically had to spend it all in bed to recover after your late evening with the Overlord. Even more embarrassed when Velvette came to check up on you and ended up laughing her head off when she realised what was going on. Valentino was a little nicer – and by a little you meant he didn’t laugh … straight away.

Anyway, after that one day of recovering you were then back to work, focusing on your social media and the upcoming catwalk for Velvette. Your songs were chosen, outfits being made and all that was left was practicing where and when you were going to sing, prance and walk. And by practice you meant again, and again and again until you had to tell Velvette if she kept making you sing over and over your voice would be in tatters for the show. Did you think she was going to give you a break after that? Your voice, yes. Your body, nope. You were made to walk up and down that catwalk, pose in various (idiotic) poses and dance your way back down the catwalk. Safe to say you were absolutely shattered.

Which is why you were currently lying down on the pink chaise lounge in Velvette’s studio; going over paperwork, the last few outfit designs for the other demons and whether any song choices would work better than the ones you had. Velvette was sat beside you, one hand tapping away on her phone and the other one running her fingers through your hair, tugging on the few tangles that were there making sure you were paying attention and not falling asleep which you were apt to do. What could you say, you loved people playing with your hair.

A grumble and a huff from her stopped you from adjusting the one outfit design and instead to look up at her to see a pissed off look on her face. What has happened now?

“You okay there, babe?” Checking on her, you sit up properly as she shakes her phone annoyed.

“That stupid piss baby is blowing up all our phones having a tantrum, like we have time to deal with his dramatics. Vox is busy which means I am going to have to deal with him and I have a hundred different things to do and I just- “ Turning her phone while she ranted so you can see the masses of messages from Valentino you hold back a sigh. He’d been so good recently it was easy to forget that he was the most dramatic out of the three of them (which if you considered how dramatic they all are is an achievement in itself!)

“Sweets don’t worry, I’ll go and chat with him you keep working on what you need to do” you stand from your seat stretching your back which was aching from being laid funny for so long. Vel argued for a few moments before relenting and passing you your phone from the table, popping a quick kiss on her cheek as you walk round her you wiggle your fingers in a goodbye gesture. Entering the elevator you pressed the button for Valentino’s floor. A quick scroll on your phone you see the various messages from Valentino progressively getting more pissed off when no one was replying. Oops. Piss baby indeed.

A sharp ping distracted you from the messages, shoving your phone into your pocket you enter Valentino’s studio. Up till now you had only made a few trips to his studio, preferring the calmness of Vox’s office, or focusing on the clothes in Velvette’s – Val’s had a completely different vibe which sometimes put you on edge. A few steps into the room you could feel the energy was chaotic already. A Valentino shouting at the two pornstars on the stage was the reason why. Sighing under your breath you could easily see he wasn’t exactly as calm as you would have hoped. Well. Here goes nothing.

Walking towards the Overlord, you nod to a few of the demons who recognised you from around the tower and glared at the ones who give you a bit of attitude who obviously don’t realise who you were. They soon would. Coming to a stop at a ranting Val’s side you watch him snap a few directions at the actors with comments on how they could (should) improve. Before he could yell action, you link an arm through his while whispering up into his ear: “is that how you are going to direct me in bed?” His head twists round so fast his glasses nearly fly off, catching them you grin up at the shocked Overlord. Shocked is definitely better than shouting.

“My amorcito (little love), what are you doing here?” Slipping his glasses properly back on his face, you can’t help but chuckle at his question.

“You ask as if you weren’t blowing up all of our phones continuously for the past hour – I’ve come to check up on you”, as you explain one of his arms wraps around your waist to drag you around the side of his chair, so now you were in front of him.

“You came to check on little ol’ me? I am touched!” His other hand was cupping your face, fingers squeezing your cheeks a little harder than normal reminding you of his festering anger. Your own hand came up to rest on his wrist as you nod, his hand controlling how much movement you had which sent a small tingle up your spine. Okay you had definitely been spending way too much time with the Vee’s because when did you get that sort of kink?

He must have seen something in your expression as his own darkened with a sinister grin, his gold tooth flashing at you. Bringing another hand to your waist he hoisted you onto his lap like you weighed nothing, squeaking at the sudden movement you placed your hands on his arms to steady yourself. He had made sure to place you with your back against his chest and two of his arms stayed wrapped around your waist pressing you closer to him.

“If you want to keep me calm little one, I suggest you stay there and stay quiet, yes?” Agreeing you rested against his chest as he shouted at the actors to start again. Sitting there you kept quiet, but with how Valentino was sat you had the full show of what the actors were doing on the stage. Adverting your gaze, a flush started to raise up your neck to your cheeks more so when you couldn’t help but take a cheeky glance. How on hell do they stay in those positions without breaking a sweat? After a few minutes of that position, Val shouted for them to change. His hands rubbing up and down your waist as well as the scene in front of you was making the jeans you were wearing mighty uncomfortable.

Doing your best to ignore the urge the relieve the pressure, you hesitated before shifting on Valentino’s lap to try and stop the seam of your jeans pressing against your clit. Moving a bit too quick, a gasp escaped your lips as small burst of pleasure flashed through your body. A chuckle against your ear made the blush grow even more. Busted.

“Comfortable Princessa?” His hushed words into your ear made a shiver run down your spine. Another chuckle from him caused you to roll your eyes. Of course he was loving this. Ready to shove his arms away from your waist and storm out, a pair of red wings encasing your body stopped you in your tracks. You hadn’t seen his wings before.

“Now sit still and keep that pretty mouth of yours shut while daddy finishes his work”, you are ready to give him some sarcastic and harsh words, but a quick hand sneaked down the front of your jeans and underwear. Slipping a finger in between your wet lips gathering the wetness up and pressing harshly against your clit made any words you wanted to say to stay stuck in your throat. Gulping back the moan that wanted to escape, you clench your thighs together to try stop him from moving his fingers.

Tutting quietly into your ear, two hands easily push your thighs apart and hold them open while the hand that was down your jeans was alternating between circling your clit and dipping into your tight hole. “Now mi carño, that bratty attitude might work with Voxie, but not with me you understand?” Your concentration was gone with the fingers that were pushing you closer and closer to the edge making you whine under your breath when they came to a stop. Blinking up at him, his free hand wrapped around your neck harshly before giving you a small shake. “Are you that starved for attention little one that you have become dumb as soon as I touch you? I asked you a question!” He snarls down at you, swallowing a groan you try to rack your brains at what he asked you before. It was so hard to think while his fingers were working you so well and that hand around your neck was just helping push you closer to that edge. Bratty. Bratty attitude that was what he asked you.

“I understand Papi” you whisper, hiding your smirk at the dark expression he gave you. A finger driving deeper into you was your retribution for the snarky comment. Worth it. He yanked your body closer to his chest by the hand on your throat, keeping you plastered against him as his other hands kept your legs open and driving you higher and higher.

“Does it turn you on that we are doing this where anyone could see us Y/n? All it takes is for me to move my wings and anyone can see you unravel on my fingers” licking up your neck making a small moan escapes your lips.

“It does, but do you really want others to see me in that position? To see me fall apart at your hands when my reactions should only be reserved for you three Vee’s?” You turn your head to stare into his lensed glare. You knew you were playing with fire. Valentino was the most jealous and possessive of the three, but he was also the most unpredictable. A thrill ran through your body as he growled into your shoulder, biting down on it hard making you groan. Shit that hurt! Removing his teeth, you see his possessive bite mark on your shoulder. The sound he let out was almost a purr as he ran his tongue over the mark, his fingers moving quicker on your clit causing you to slam your head back into his chest and hold back the moans so only a few whimpers fell from your lips.

He laughed at you, shouting a few more orders and commands at the actors being completely at ease while you were falling apart at the seams. So close to the edge you dug your fingers into his arms, whimpers and moans escaping you more often now but you had stopped caring if the other demons could hear. You were so focused on the feeling coursing through your veins you couldn’t give a fuck if the rest of the room heard you scream.

Val did some sort of voodoo move with his fingers that had you cuming without even realising that you had not just hit the edge but had flown off it. The hand that was around your throat was now across your mouth muffling all the moans and shouts as Valentino shouted cut and for everyone to fuck off out of the room.

Twitching and twisting away from his fingers that continued moving, you shook your head at Val. It was too much. Too much. You tried to get your hands down your jeans to stop him, but they were caught by his own.

“My little chulito, you didn’t think I was finished with you yet, did you?”

Fuck!

Taglist:

@tasha-1994 @azullynxx @reath-solia @leathesimp @klorinda

@the-maladaptivedaydreamer @songbrita @midge7838 @joumi13 @wonderlandangelsposts @th3rizzler

@ace-spades-1 @iamferalfordilfs

@justgiulia @kittycatkrissa @qu1cks1lversb1tch @martinys-world @superwholatacohunters @mysticvoide

@rosiethevoxobesser

@skullhorn59 @sarcastic-sourwolf

@samanthastarss @hazbinz-vixxie

@shinynewboots

[samcrosfaith]

SUMMER NIGHTS 𝟎𝟑| 𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖐𝖘

Happy Lowman x fem!oc

a/n; I just realized that ia haven't posted chapter three, four and five but six 🤦🏻‍♀️ I'm sorry about that! Here you go. 🤎

tag list; @mamawiggers1980 @elmiramager

CALLIE'S GIGGLES FILLED the living room with warmth, her red hair, which sat in a neat bun on top of her head, looked almost golden under the sunlight that shone through the large window and cast a warm glow on the large carpet.

"Look mommy, he's making noises!" Full of enthusiasm, the three-year-old pulled on a short string that was attached to the dinosaur she was playing with. Shortly afterwards, a mix of a roar and a cooing sound was heard.

"Wow, that's scary!" June put on a frightened look and pretended to be afraid, her hand pressed tightly against her chest. "What kind of things is Daddy buying you?"

"Cool stuff!" When Callie burst into laughter and pulled the string again, June joined in and pulled the three-year-old between her legs with a gentle laugh. "Will you do me a favor and put on your ballet clothes? We have to leave in thirty minutes."

"I can do that", Callie answered enthusiastically as she kept playing with the dinosaurs and a doll. "Is Ally coming too?"

"Ally always comes with us, you know that, baby." June placed a kiss on the top of Callie's head before she sat the girl back down on the carpet and stood up. "And after the dance classes we go to the stores, you girls need new shoes. Does that sound good?"

"Yes!" The dinosaur and the doll immediately flew into the toy box that stood next to the round coffee table while Callie already jumped to her feet. There was pure joy in her eyes as she looked up at her mother. "I love shoes!"

"I know, sweetheart", June replied with a soft chuckle as Callie announced that she was going to change extra quickly and rushed into her room shortly afterwards.

With her hands on her hips, June shook her head in amusement. As soon as her children were around her or she saw one of the two girls happy, she was happy tooᅳ despite the complicated circumstances.

When her phone lit up on the coffee table, June reached for it and sighed to herself when she read the message from her lawyer, whom she had contacted a few days ago about the divorceᅳ just as Happy had wanted.

Lost in her own thoughts, her blue eyes wandered around the room, a room that had changed significantly after June took over the house. Not that there was anything wrong with Jax and Tara's style, but June was someone who wanted to feel at home, someone who needed warmth.

Most of the furniture was in a warm tone. A brown leather couch stood against the white wall, a beige blanket lay folded over one armrest, and orange and yellowish pillows with different prints provided another splash of color.

There were shelves on the walls with old books and plants on them. Different types of Monsteras, Succulents, Peperomiasᅳ anything that looked green and alive actually. On the wall above the dresser on which the tv stood was a large, oval mirror with a delicate gold frame, pictures of various sizes hung around it, giving the wall a nostalgic flair.

Already dressed in a black, long sleeved bodysuit and a black chiffon Ballet skirt with beige silk tights underneath, June snaked her arms around her petite body, probably to comfort herself as she looked at all the pictures with a wistful smile. One right next to the mirror, the largest picture of all, showed Happy with six year old Alanna on his lap while he held a newborn Callie in his other arm, the proudest look on his face.

In the picture next to it, they were all in it, looking like a real familyᅳ which they were. Everyone in the photo was laughing, even Happy. And seeing Happy laugh was one of June's favorite things. There was something about the Tacoma Killer's laugh that could heal all her worries.

The rumor that Happy was a cold-hearted, brutal person who didn't care about anyone was absolutely false. Sure, he was different, maybe even had a sadistic side to him when it came to getting people to talk. And yes, he didn't trust many people and seemed cold and dangerous to strangers. But not when he was around people he cared about.

As soon as Happy felt comfortable, he could even be quite funny and at home, around June and his children, he was like a different person. And that was what June missed the most. The carefree afternoons and evenings they had spent together, whether as a couple or with their children.

Tara had never understood why she had hung the pictures in the first place, after all, the two were no longer a couple and in the doctor's eyes June should've left town to escape the toxic lifestyle. But June didn't want to leave, she didn't want to take her children's father awayᅳ and Charming was her home, whether she was a fan of it or not.

Sighing, she shook off the thought of driving to Happy's and their old house and begging him to just start over. But she couldn't forget the pictures of that one night, even if for others it had been 'only' a kissᅳ for Gemma, for example.

Without answering the message of her lawyer, June put her phone aside and followed the dull rock music that, as so often, came from Alanna's room. Before she opened the door, she knocked twice and only entered when she heard a soft 'come in'. In contrast to her own mother, it was important to June to give her children some privacy.

In order to be able to talk to her daughter, June turned the control of the older stereo system down until the music stopped and a comfortable silence took over.

Just like her, Alanna had a weakness for vintage things and the boho style. A stack of Polaroid pictures lay on the stereo system that Jax had given her when they moved in a few months ago. He actually wanted to throw it away, but when Alanna discovered the stereo system in his garage while clearing out, she wanted it immediately.

Alanna's room, tidy but still a little chaotic, consisted of walls painted a soft yellow, exactly the opposite of Callie's room, which was literally bathed in pink. Pinks walls, pink bedding, even a pink carpet.

There were also plants on dark brown shelves and on the desk in the same color. A find from the flea market that June and Alanna always visited together. A hobby that both of them shared.

The mattress next to Alanna gave in as June sat down next to her and brushed some dark strands of hair from her face, which covered it as she kept her head bowed.

"Why are you still so angry with Dad?", June asked softly, carefully even.

Only a quiet sigh fell from Alanna's lips as she stared at the Polaroid pictures in her hand, memories of the weekend at the lake. A weekend that she had secretly enjoyed but didn't want to admit because she was just as stubborn as her father. Another thing she had inherited from him.

"He just left us", she murmured, and there was so much disappointment and sadness in her voice, so much anger in her words, that June had to swallow softly. "He promised me he would always stay with us and that he would never leave me like my biological mom didᅳ and he didn't keep his promise!"

"Aren't you angry at him anymore at all?" Tears gathered in the nine-year-old's doe-brown eyes, her head snapping up to look at her mother.

June, quite moved by Alanna's words and the little outburst of anger, squeezed her eyes shut to hide her own tears. Seeing your own children suffer was probably the worst thing for a parent.

"Of course I'm still angry", she answered honestly, sincerity but also a certain warmth in her blue eyes as she placed an arm around Alanna's shoulder.  "But you know, sometimes adults primise things that they just can't keep. I know that sounds like a bad excuse, but your dad just wanted the best for us, sweetheart."

Confused, and Alanna had every right to be, she shook her head. "So leaving us alone is the best thing? I don't understand, mom."

"God, you've grown up so much", June said with a wistful smile as the nine-year-old answered as if she were much older already. "What your dad did doesn't make senseᅳ but it made sense to him in that moment. Sometimes we're so blinded by fear that we do stupid things. And that's exactly what happened."

"Well, but if he knows he acted stupid then he can make it up to you, to us!" Despair evident in Alanna's frustrated voice, her lips began to tremble as she threw the pictures on the floor. "I miss him, and I freakin' hate that he just left!"

The moment the nine-year-old burst into tears, allowing her emotions to flow freely for the first time since her parents broke up, she threw herself into June's arms that immediately closed around her body. Sobbing and sniffling, the girl hid her face on June's shoulder.

"I'm here, baby", June whispered, no longer able to hide her own tears. This outburst of emotion came so unexpected that even June was overwhelmed at first. So she decided to just hold Alanna and give her the comfort she needed. "And Dad is always there for you, too, even if he's not here every day. You know you can call him anytime and he'll be here within ten minutes."

"It's not fair that he's not here!" Was all Alanna could choke out before another deep sob burst from her throat and tore June's heart apart.

How could she make a clean cut and draw a final line when she knew that her children missed their father as much as she did?

ᅳ

HAPPY ENTERED THE CLUBHOUSE, his kutte sticking to his back as he wiped the sweat from his forehead, finally surrounded by cooler air instead of the intrusive heat from outside.

It was quiet, most members in their rooms to rest after the exhausting morning and just unwind or let off steam, preferably with a Croweater.

Only Jax sat at the bar, having learned from his mistakes and now knowing better that it was smarter not to cheat on Tara again. But just like Happy, he just wanted to push his Old Lady away to keep her safe. But what worked for June had the exact opposite effect on Tara, the doctor clinging to Jax even more now.

"Hey." Happy sat down on the bar stool next to his brother-in-law and ordered a whiskey from Rat, who was standing behind the bar washing glasses. "You okay?"

"Nah man, everything is threatening to escalate and I just don't know what to do anymore." It was rare that Jax admitted to himself that he was overwhelmed by a situation, that he had no idea how to keep shit running. "The war with the Argent Devils, it's even worse than the one with the Mayans back then."

"Then we have to make sure that their club disappears, we gotta have to wipe them out", Happy answered, downing the glass of whiskey. After the breakup, he had drunk so much of the liquor that he didn't even feel it burn down his throat anymore. "I want my wife back, my kidsᅳ which means the Argent Devils have to go, fast."

"What?" Jax' eyes widened in surprise, his body now turned towards Happy. "You really want my sister back?"

"What do you think?" Letting out a snort-like sound, the SAA shook his head. "That was the plan from the start. As soon as there is no more danger, I'll get my family backᅳ and that has to happen soon before I'll lose them completely."

Happy was silent for a while, as was Jax, who noticed that Happy still had something to say. And Jax gave his brother-in-law the moment, curious to hear Happy's next words.

"June wants a divorce", he grumbled, tapping on the counter to tell Rat to refill his glass. "She gave me the papers three days ago, told me to sign them. Her signature was already on them."

"Shit." Jax ran a hand down his face, scratching his beard in thought. "She never mentioned anything about a divorce. I would've warned you, man, I hope you know that."

Happy just waved it off with a grunt, downing the next glass. "I don't think she told anyone. Maybe Amber, but she would never tell anyone if June wanted her to keep it to herself."

"Probably not, no", the blonde sighed, shaking his head before placing a hand on Happy's shoulder, squeezing it. "I'll talk to her, I wanted to stop by her studio later anyway to see if she's okay."

"Why? Did something happen?" Immediately alarmed, Happy swept around and stared at his Pres.

"Nah, she just had a few problems with Ma. Gemma doesn't want to understand why June wants her to stay away for a few weeks", Jax explained with a slight grin that faded as quickly as it had formed. "June's feeling like shit, man. She's not the same without you, but I know my sisterᅳ if you really want her back, you'll have to try hard. Cheating on herᅳ that's something June can't forgive, she's not Gemma or Tara."

"I didn't even cheat on her and you know that", Happy insisted stubbornly, tapping his glass on the counter. "Another one, Prospect."

"Uh, are you sure?" Rat asked carefully, visibly tense when Happy gave him his famous death glare. "Sorry", he mumbled quickly before he refilled the glass.

Jax just chuckled, amused by the little scene that had just unfolded before he became serious again. "But June doesn't know that you only hired Jenny, that the whole thing was agreed upon and only started when June showed up."

"You think she could forgive me if I explained everything to her?" Dejected, Happy finally drained the newly refilled glass before looking back at Jax. "You know that I'd never actually cheat on your sister. June was and still is the only one for me."

"I know that, bro, you don't have to tell me that." With a slap against Happy's shoulder blade, Jax folded his arms on the counter and stared at his beer with a frown. "And June actually knows it too. To this day she still can't believe that you really did it. So yeah, I think if you explain everything to her there's a chance that she might forgive you."

"I fuckin' hope so", Happy sighed deeply, rubbing both hands over his exhausted face before he stood up.

"Where are you going?" Jax wanted to know, his eyebrows drawn together in curiosity.

"Tell your mom to give June the space she needs", Happy explained as he was already on his way towards the door and shortly afterwards crossed the lot to get to the workshop's office.

He may have had a lot of respect for Gemma, but he had more respect for his wife, whose well-being was more important to him. And if she didn't have the nerves for Gemma right now, he would take care of it.

[blackbird-brewster]

hiiii!! i'm sorry to hear you're not doing well right now, but you're definitely an appreciated face on my home page

1) i haven't watched much of the criminal minds reboot. i think i watched the first two episodes? but i don't like it. i think the reboot lays into the things i don't like about the show (gory deaths, really unhinged murderers, poor representations of people with mental health issues) while ignoring things i do like about the show (steady character development and family time, morgan, hotch, and reid being there >:( and an interesting analysis into what makes normal people do bad things, not what makes people run multi-level marketing murder schemes[???]). but i also have not seen enough of it to justify any stronger opinion than "i don't like reboots and this will not be an exception"

2) not really a headcanon, as much as an analysis of the show that my friend and i were talking about. but we both genuinely think that garcia and morgan would have ended up together if garcia was skinny...which is garbage because i absolutely LOVE their relationship, and i feel like it did not get any solidity or closure. also reid is bisexual and prentiss is a lesbian and jj is "good luck, babe" chappell roan-coded

3) a femme penelope garcia icon would be...kinda awesome 👉👈🥺

4) again, prentiss + jj = good luck, babe. idk what else to tell you

5) reid x morgan college au rivals to lovers shenanigans would make a great fic

6) comet and koshi (two of my five cats)

7) read any good books recently? i'm reading who's afriad of gender? by judith butler right now, and i'm really enjoying it

hope all of this keeps you busy and makes you happy! feel better soon <3

Let me start by saying this was such a great message to read when I was very sick and very sad. THANK YOU!!! I finally have recovered enough to have half a brain cell so I can reply. <3

1) Tell me what you think of the reboot

I am RIGHT THERE with you friend. I think the reboot has really destroyed a lot of the characters (namely Garcia who is unrecognizable in terms of characterisation in CME) and especially in regards to this season, they made an unsub a main cast member?! So we have SOOOOO much of Elias Voit and so LITTLE of the characters we're here to see. I would trade all of his screentime for one look into what Luke and Emily do outside of the office tbrh (yes, the promo for this week has Emily at home for the first time in the whole reboot, but that's beside the point). I'm def not a fan of CME and I wish the show would have just ended in 2020 and that was that. But since it didn't and because my soul is eternally bound to this fandom, here we are. Thank god for fanfic.

2) Tell me your CM headcanons

"we both genuinely think that garcia and morgan would have ended up together if garcia was skinny…which is garbage because i absolutely LOVE their relationship"

YOU ARE SO RIGHT! They had so much potential and I'll forever ship Morcia and I agree the fact they would be an interracial couple with a fat babe involved was probably part of the reason they never dated. -- That being said, I DO appreciate that they never dated. Because I think it's quite rare to see loving, supportive, flirty, PLATONIC friendships between men and women on TV. Not every m/f duo needs to end up together, I think we definitely need more representation of m/f best friends.

"also reid is bisexual and prentiss is a lesbian and jj is "good luck, babe" chappell roan-coded"

100% correct on all accounts. The way I HOWLED with laughter at "JJ is good luck babe coded" lmaaaaaaaaaooooooooo

3) Request pride icons

When you say 'femme Garcia' which flag are you meaning? Happy to make the icon just wanna get the pride flag right (bc I know there's tons of different flags!).

4) Tell me songs that remind you of your ships

"again, prentiss + jj = good luck, babe. idk what else to tell you"

They are so many songs on that album. Jemily is also very 'Casual' and 'Coffee' too.

5) Give me fic prompts

"reid x morgan college au rivals to lovers shenanigans would make a great fic"

Fun fact, while Fooled Around (and Fell in Love) focuses mainly on JJ/Tara/Emily -- Derek and Reid are important side characters. And they were college acquaintances (established in Part 2)! And they both have dated the same guy (Luke) anddddd they are navigating polyamory together in Part 3. So you may enjoy that series.

6) Tell me about your pets

I love your cats!! I had 5 cats at one point. That's the dream! Tell them all they're so good and fluffy and I love them.

7) Ask personal questions

"read any good books recently? i'm reading who's afriad of gender? by judith butler right now, and i'm really enjoying it"

I've been reading my book copies of Fooled Around! I'm on the final book (I split the series into 4 books) and I'm trying to make it last as long as possible. I only have a couple of chapters left but having physical copies of something I wrote is SO cool. It's brought me a lot of joy and has helped me take pride in what I write!

[cherryeol04]

Baby Fever (M)

➻ Pairings: Minho x Jisung, Minsung

➻ Genre: Hybrid AU, Smut, Romance, Slight!angst

➻ Additional: heat cycles, fluff, humor, misunderstandings, domestic relationship, established relationship

➻ Word Count: 4K

➻ Warnings: N/A

➻ Author’s notes: This story is crossposted on multiple sites under the same username!

Minho knew he shouldn’t have gone on TikTok, but the cat hybrid never did anything that was good for him. There were dozens of other things he could have been doing - like laundry or making dinner for himself and Jisung - but instead, he decided to be lazy and scroll through the multitude of 60-second videos on his For You Page. And somehow, he got thrown down a rabbit hole of cleaning videos and came out on the other side of babytok. Now, he wasn’t a stranger to this side of TikTok, usually only visiting the hashtag when his heat was right around the corner. But today was different. He was a good two or so weeks away from his heat cycle, with no preheat symptoms in sight. So it should have been relatively easy for him to just continue to scroll or search for a different hashtag.

But he didn’t.

There was just something telling him that he needed to watch more baby videos - to coo and fond over the little creatures. And Minho was not one to deprive himself of something he wanted. Which is how he ended up on the very video that set off a chain reaction in his body. Like previous videos, he was shown a baby, nor more than a few months old, sticking their tongue out at the camera in a manner that reminded him of a cat drinking water. It was absolutely adorable and he couldn’t stop the giggles that left him. But his heart absolutely melted when the baby made the cutest little noise - a mixture of a sigh and yawn with a scrunched up face.

“I want one.” he whispered into the empty living room, ears flattening against his head as he mewled sadly. “I really, really want one.” With a few taps of his fingers, Minho was sending the video to his boyfriend who was still at work. He didn’t actually expect a reply from the other, knowing there was an upcoming deadline that had to be met and Chan was rather mean when he was stressed. It was better to not disturb the trio of producers, but that video was just begging for Minho to send it.

Hanji❤️

Cute baby

Minho could only snort at the reply he received, tail curling around his thigh as he rolled onto his side, precariously balanced on the edge of the couch.

Hanji❤️

I want it

Babe, that’s someone’s baby. You can’t steal it!

He pouted, rolling his eyes because Jisung was right. He couldn’t just out right steal someone’s kid from them. That wasn’t a nice thing to do. Besides, it wouldn’t be their baby and that’s what Minho really wanted. A little kitten hybrid that looked like the two of them. Or at the very least looked like Jisung and inherited Minho’s brains.

Hanji❤️

Then let’s make our own.

Hyung…

Jisung…

Not right now.

Minho scoffed, pushing himself up on the couch with a frown, fingers furiously tapping against the screen. After each message he wrote, he would delete it - 100% sure that his words would be too mean. Eventually he settled on a simple question, because things were a lot easier when he made them simple.

Hanji❤️

When then?

He didn’t receive an immediate text back like before, and figured that Jisung had probably gone back to focusing on his work. But after three hours - and being left on read for two of those hours - he realized he wasn’t going to get an answer. Well that was fine, two could play at that game.

---

Minho may have taken his revenge a little too far. He had only planned to ignore Jisung for the rest of the day (once he returned home from work). But one day turned into two, turned into five and before he knew it, they were two weeks in and the two of them were dancing on eggshells around each other. Well, Jisung was dancing around, Minho didn’t really care. And it was stupid. Minho knew that he was just being stubborn and there was nothing he was really trying to “prove” anymore. It was more about principle? Maybe not even that. Maybe he was just too stubborn to admit he was being childish.

“Baby.” Jisung called out and Minho grunted from his perch by the window, the warm rays of the sun warming his body. “I’m leaving. See you later.” Jisung paused as he opened the front door. “I love you.” Minho grunted again and that was the only acknowledgement Jisung received, though he wasn’t surprised at Minho's actions. Jisung's departure only left a larger gaping hole in Minho's chest and he hated it. Even though the hybrid had never really been the most affectionate, he really missed Jisung's cuddles and touches. There was just something about the way the human could make him feel through simple little actions - things none of his previous owners had ever come close to. Jisung loved to tease that they were soulmates, “meant to be” as silly as that was.

But...maybe?

With a heavy sigh, Minho rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. His mind was racing with a million thoughts - too loud, too cluttered. Grabbing his phone, he unlocked it and opened up TikTok, scrolling through post after post. He tried his hardest to not interact with any posts that were about babies and children, but it was hard when the algorithm sucked and it seemed the universe was hellbent on reminding Minho how desperately he wanted a child. He wasn't getting any younger and the older he got, the louder his biological clock ticked. 

One baby video turned into two, turned into three, and then morphed into pregnancy videos and then into kitten videos, followed by more baby videos. He felt like he was in baby hell. And yet, he didn't close the app nor do something else to distract himself. He kept scrolling - kept watching. And his heart kept melting until he was a puddle of kitty goo, slowly sliding off his window perch, tail swishing happily behind him as he rolled about on the floor.

And that's where Jisung found hours later. In the same spot on the floor, just below the perch as the sun began to set. His soft sigh is what pulled Minho from his phone, ears twitching towards the sound. "Oh, you're home!" The warm smile thrown his way really surprised Jisung, a look of shock crossing his face. Climbing to his feet, Minho crossed the short distance to the front door and threw his arms around Jisung's neck, soft purrs rumbling in his chest as he nuzzled against his boyfriend. There was a slight hesitation before Jisung returned his hug, hands resting on his hips. "Welcome home."

"Thank you." Jisung swallowed slightly, turning his head to try and stare at Minho, but the other buried his face further into his neck. "Min, are you alright?" he asked softly. Minho hummed in confirmation, tail flicking about behind him. It wasn't really the confirmation that he wanted, but he took it anyway, stroking Minho's back gently. They stood there like that for a few minutes before Minho finally pulled away and looked at Jisung. It was like two magnets finally coming together, lips locking in a deep kiss that seared Minho right to the bone. His ears flattened down, tail moving to curl around one of Jisung's arms, clinging tight to him. A soft mewl escaped Minho's lips, only to be swallowed by Jisung's mouth as the younger tilted their heads - his tongue slipping between Minho's parted lips.

Fingers gripped tightly to broad shoulders, pulling Jisung impossibly closer to him. Their tongues danced together, fighting for dominance that Minho so willingly gave up when Jisung coaxed his tongue into his mouth and sucked on it; shivers running down his spine. Heat was bubbling just under the surface of Minho's skin, so familiar but so different. He knew it was nowhere near time for his heat, but his body was reacting like he was. It was strange and a little frightening. Breaking the kiss, Minho panted as he gave Jisung's shoulder a squeeze, shifting on his feet as he tried to figure out what he was feeling, why and if they should continue because God did he want to continue. Two weeks was way too long to be without Jisung and his addicting touches.

"What's wrong?" As if reading Minho's mind, Jisung gripped his chin and lifted the hybrid's head up to look at him. There were so many emotions flashing in Minho's eyes while his face stayed as stoic as always. So typical of Minho, but that's what made Jisung different - made Jisung the right person. He could always read Minho in a way that others never could. While others would think Minho was being mean or rude, Jisung knew that Minho was playing around, or joking. Any sort of sarcastic comment was Minho's love language. So it was easy for Jisung to see when something was bothering his boyfriend.

"I feel-" Minho paused, trying to figure out the right word to describe how he was feeling, but he certainly couldn't say that he was in heat when he wasn't, but he couldn't describe the feeling any other way. It felt like he was in heat, only without the symptoms. "Weird." he finished. By the look on Jisung's face, that wasn't the correct word to use either.

"Weird?” Jisung paroted, head cocking so cutely to the side that Minho couldn’t help but coo at his appearance, though it came out more as a soft purr. Jisung raised a brow at the reaction and reached up, carding his fingers through Minho’s hair before stroking his ears gently - wanting very much to pull more sounds from the other.

Minho barely nodded, his purrs rumbling deep in chest as a flush slowly crawled across his cheeks. His tail whipped behind him wildly before curling around Jisung’s thigh and squeezing. The touch had the human stilling, legs parting a bit more so as not to accidentally hurt the appendage. Minho let out a shaky breath as he looked up at Jisung, pupils blown wide as the heat started to spread. It scared him, because Minho knew he had at least two more weeks or better before his actual heat was supposed to start. Yet there was an inferno raging inside him. He mewled. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” Jisung’s hands left his head and cupped his cheeks, cradling his face in such a tender embrace that it had Minho’s heart skipping a beat. 

“Hot.” 

Jisung blinked in rapid succession - a habit he picked up from Minho - as he tried to process the situation. “You’re hot?” Minho nodded slowly, lips parting as he panted softly. Realization seemed to dawn on the human. “You’re in heat?”

“I…don’t know.” Minho was absolutely sure this wasn’t his heat but it was a heat of some sort. Maybe a pseudo heat, but for what reason, he couldn’t be sure. All he knew is that talking was a waste of time. He needed Jisung. “Please.” He whispered, tail constricting around Jisung’s thigh harder. 

“Okay, okay.” Jisung gulped, eyes raking over Minho’s form before taking his hand. “Come on, let’s move to the bedroom.” Minho followed along rather easily, each step shakier than the next. The inferno was growing rapidly and spreading like wildfire and he was sure his skin was radiating heat. Their bedroom was cooler than the living room, blinds still closed as Minho had not been in there since he had woken up. It was enough of a chill to take the edge off to where he didn’t feel like he was melting, but the heat was definitely becoming unbearable. 

Crawling into the bed, Minho laid face first in the sheets, mewling softly as he wiggled around to get situated. The mattress dipped next to his thighs, Jisung climbing on behind him, laying across Minho’s body. The added weight was so comforting and sort of scratched an itch that he hadn’t quite realized he had yet. “Sungie.” He whispered breathlessly. 

“Shh.” The gentle shush had Minho’s insides twisting with desire and he whined, pressing his hips back against Jisung - feeling his hardness pressing against his thighs. Tender kisses were placed along his neck, pulling hushed noises from the hybrid. He rocked back against Jisung again and was met with a harsh buck - a heated gasp falling from Minho’s parted lips. “So responsive baby.” Jisung cooed gently, lips brushing against one of Minho’s ears, feeling it twitch at the touch. “Sure you’re not in heat?”

Minho whined and wiggled against his boyfriend, wanting to feel more than just Jisung’s hard covered cock. “I-I -” he cleared his throat. He absolutely hated how vulnerable and wrecked he sounded. “I don’t think so.” His voice was still soft, but more stable - confusion laced with every word. “But I’m so hot…Sungie.” Strong hands roamed his back and slipped down to his sides, a pathetic moan falling from his lips as his body trembled at the touch. Despite Jisung being smaller than him in stature, his hands had always been bigger and a guilty pleasure of Minho’s. He absolutely loved when his boyfriend would touch him, hold him - the way his fingers would splay and cover such a large expanse of skin. He shivered as cold fingers slipped under his shirt, skirting up his torso and skimming over his nipples.

“I got you, Min.” Jisung mummered, fingers plucking at the hardened nubs, doing his best to suppress his own moans as Minho trembled under his grasp, high pitched whines falling from Minho’s parted lips. “So sensitive.” Minho could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Stop teasing.” Reaching down, Minho batted at Jisung’s hands, pushing them away as he turned over and looked up at the other. “Don’t want it.” He all but pouted at the other and for a brief moment, a sincere fondness flashed across Jisung’s face. Just long enough to have Minho’s heart racing and gut twisting in a weird mixture of arousal and love. “Please.”

Leaning down, Jisung captured Minho’s lips in a heated kiss. Lips melded together as hands grasped and fumbled with clothing, yanking in many different ways to pull the offending material off. Unfortunately, Jisung had to break the kiss in order to rid Minho of his shirt, dark eyes raking over his exposed chest. Minho could feel how hot his skin was and could only imagine how flushed he was. He hated it, but at least it was at a more bearable level than normal. Reaching out, he grabbed the front of Jisung’s work shirt, fingers tugging button after button out of its hole until the shirt hung open over Jisung’s frame. The material shifted with every rise and fall of Jisung’s chest, exposing golden skin before hiding it just as quickly, teasing the cat.

Looking up into Jisung’s eyes, Minho leaned in and ran his hands over the other’s chest - nails scratching lightly over the hard planes of muscles. Jisung took in a shuddering breath at the touch, pupils dilating further. Minho expected many things from the human, but to be pushed back on the bed so suddenly was not one of them. But he couldn’t complain, not when Jisung slipped his way between his legs and made quick work of Minho’s pants and underwear. Minho was vaguely aware of the sounds of something heavy hitting the floor, but his attention was mostly taken with the way Jisung was eyeing him like a piece of meat. The hunger swirling in Jisung’s eyes had him mewling and readily submitting to the other. Minho at least had the decency to blush as he so shamelessly lifted and parted his legs wider for his boyfriend, giving him the perfect view of his flushed cock and fluttering pink hole.

“Look at that.” Jisung smirked as he lightly pressed his index finger against Minho’s hole. “You want something so badly to fill you don’t you?” It was more of a statement than it was a question, and Minho nodded his head so rapidly he thought he gave himself whiplash.

“Jisung…please.” 

“So fucking needy.” Jisung growled out, voice low and husky as Minho swore it reverberated in his chest. His thighs trembled and tried to close as a desperate moan came tumbling out of his mouth. In that moment, Minho wanted nothing more than for Jisung to fill him because he was indeed just that needy. But to his dismay, Jisung was pulling away and Minho scrambled to grab at him, latching onto his wrist to keep him close. 

“No, please.” He was not above begging at this point.

“Babe,” Jisung chuckled, shifting to hover back over him. Dipping his head down, he caught Minho’s lips in a sweet and tender kiss, taking the hybrid by surprise. “I need to get the lube.” he whispered against Minho’s lips before he was pulling away and shuffling over to the bedside table. It was only then that Minho realized that despite the raging inferno of a heat that was coursing through his body, he was not producing any slick - which only seemed to confirm his suspicions that this wasn’t his real heat. Whatever he was going through was mimicking all aspects of his heat except for that one crucial aspect that would make everything just move faster.

Minho jolted and hissed as a cold, wet finger pressed against his hole once more. Jisung’s finger circled his hole, petting the fluttering rim before slowly pushing in. A sharp spike of pleasure rolled through Minho’s body as he cried out softly, fingers gripping the sheets under him tightly as his back arched. “Oh god.” he whispered, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, lidded eyes staring intently at his boyfriend. Jisung smirked, throwing a wink at Minho as he twisted his finger quickly, wrenching another moan from Minho’s lips as his ears flattened down on his head, chest heaving. Leaning down, Jisung pressed tender kisses to Minho’s flushed chest - lips slowly making their way to a nipple and wrapping around it.

Gasping, Minho tensed, hole clenching around the digit still moving inside him. He hated how sensitive his body became, but loved the pleasure that Jisung brought him. Jisung curled his finger, pressing and stroking against his walls as his mouth worked over Minho’s pebbled nipple. “Jisungie, please.” Minho wasn’t sure what he was begging for, the words falling from his lips before they could even register in his brain. All he knew was that he wanted more. Jisung seemed to know exactly what he wanted and one finger became two, which eventually became three, moving in tandem - stretching Minho until he was a crying, babbling mess on the bed. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Jisung cooed, fingers slipping free. Grabbing the lube, Jisung opened the cap and poured more onto his fingers, grabbing his cock and coating it. Minho wasn’t sure when Jisung had gotten rid of his pants, and he honestly couldn’t care. One less obstacle in his way of getting the itch he’s been feeling scratched. He watched the way Jisung’s cock twitched in his grip, a pearl of precum beading at the tip and it was only then that Minho realized just how much Jisung wanted this too. “Ready?”

Biting his bottom lip, Minho nodded, not sure he could trust his voice at the moment. Jisung’s hand gripped his right thigh, finger digging into the flushed flesh and sending another wave of arousal through Minho. Grabbing the back of his left thigh, Minho pulled it closer to his chest, exposing himself even more, delighted in the way Jisung’s breath hitched. “Jesus, babe.” Gripping the base of his cock, Jisung shifted forward, pressing the head against Minho’s stretched rim and watching as it slowly disappeared into the hybrid. A strangled noise - that could only be classified as a mixture of a moan and meow - escaped Minho as Jisung sank into him, stretching and filling him in a way that only Jisung could. 

“Oh god, Jisung.” He gasped out. “Sungie.” He whined, releasing his thigh and reaching out towards the other. Staring at the hand for a moment, Jisung reached out and took it, lacing their fingers together and gripping it tightly. The touch was the only thing grounding Minho as Jisung bottomed out inside him, yet at the same time he was still soaring. He felt the fuzzies slowly taking over him, face and mind slowly beginning to tingle as that itch was scratch - the urge to be bred finally being met, even if he wasn’t in heat. 

Soft, albeit a little dry, lips pressed against his as Jisung pulled out and pushed back in. Minho’s lips parted in a gasp - an intense, unadulterated bolt of pleasure rocked Minho’s body, making him tremble under the other’s touch. Jisung eagerly swallowed the gasp, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into the other’s mouth. Jisung swiped his tongue against sharp canines, grunting as Minho bit down on it lightly. Jisung’s hips rocked slowly, taking his time to reach deep into the other - much to Minho’s displeasure. Squeezing Jisung’s hand tighter, he nipped at the human’s tongue once more, legs wrapping tightly around Jisung’s hips to pull him in closer. And still it seemed like Jisung just wasn’t getting the hint. 

Pulling back from the kiss, Minho glared up at Jisung with heated eyes, his free hand gripping Jisung shoulder - sharp nails digging into tender flesh. “Harder. Fuck me like you mean it.” Jisung paused, eyes wide and hesitant before he gave a shaky nod. Sitting himself up, he shifted his position and pulled out until only the head of his dick was still sheathed inside Minho’s tight hole. Taking a deep breath, he snapped his hips forward - cock grazing along his prostate, grinning as Minho arched and cried out, eyes closed in bliss. “Yes! Just like that.” Minho’s body felt like it was vibrating and he couldn’t tell up from down. His mind could only focus on Jisung - Jisung, Jisung, Jisung! Another hard thrust and the pace was set - Minho mewling and begging for more, even if Jisung was fucking him as best he could. 

“Please.” Another plea and Minho was ripping his hand out of Jisung’s grip. Nails dug into broad shoulders as the hybrid pulled Jisung down against him, legs tightening around his pistoning hips and keeping him close. It was more difficult for Jisung to move, the younger male hunching himself more to keep the power of thrusts. Minho clawed at Jisung’s back, mouth agape as he panted heavily into the other’s ear. He was floating above the abyss of ecstasy, hanging by a thread. Jisung wrapped his fingers around Minho’s weeping length, only stroking it one, two, three times before the thread snapped and Minho was cumming with a choked gasp that morphed into a deep growl. Jisung continued to pound into Minho, helping his lover ride out his orgasm as he reached his own peak shortly after - painting his kitten’s walls white. 

They laid there, unmoving, for what felt like years, coming down from their highs. Eventually, Jisung rolled them over onto their sides, refusing to leave the warmth of Minho’s body. The hybrid curled up against jisung, tucking his head under his chin as he purred, chest rumbling. Jisung ran his fingers through Minho’s hair, scratching behind his ears lightly. “Feel better?”  He asked. Lifting his head, Minho nodded, smiling sweetly at his boyfriend.

“Much. Thank you.” Leaning in, he pecked his lips before settling back down. “Not really sure what happened, but I feel back to normal.” He frowned, then shrugged.

“Well I’m glad to hear that.” Jisung chuckled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Are you hungry? I can make us something.”

“And have you burn down the kitchen again?” Minho raised a brow as he looked up at him. “I don’t think so.” Jisung had the decency to blush at that. “Ten more minutes and then I’ll go make us something to eat.” 

“You drive a hard bargain, but deal.” Jisung tightened his arms around the other, hugging Minho closer for optimum cuddling performance. “I love you.” 

“I love me too.” 

Tags: @sauceracha @jisungsjheekies @luminouskalopsia @hanjisungismybaby @imbonibi @jiwlys @leafsmindpalace @army-of-carats @peachmilkcloud @letterstoskz @lauraneuuh @babyskz @stay-here-dont-stray @meen1ez @slinekyu @feedthefandoms995 @schokoshaker @rejemi @ahhhhhhhhhghh @thsrndkd @halotopicecream @skzmonster @jumunnaa @serendipityryn @yayaistime @bxddiebang @sachifukyo @eastleighsblog

( If you want to join the list, you can find the info here! Also I’m sorry for those listed in the tags but not getting tagged. For some reason tumblr can’t find your blog to tag. I’m hoping it figures it out soon like it did for others.)

[plofisto]

hey, my name is aurora! i am currently looking for new long-term roleplays and new friends! below, you’ll find more information regarding me, my roleplaying style and more! if you’re interested in a potential roleplay, don’t hesitate to like this or send me a message!

some more information about me: as stated previously, my pen name is aurora! i am eighteen years old ( please be the same age group, no older than twenty-five ), and i use she / her pronouns! i have been roleplaying for about six years or so. i am eastern daylight timezone, and i am currently quite active. and one of my favorite things is worldbuilding and creating original characters — which i have a multitude of. i am very open to ships and i love hearing about other’s original characters. i also only roleplay in mini private servers on discord. i do not care what others ship, but i will not entertain incest, pedophilia, non-con or anything along those things. in all honesty, i want a plot-oriented roleplay with angst, fluff, and the occasional smut.

what i can give / my style:

conversation outside / regarding the roleplay! one of favorite things do to is talk about our roleplay, wether it be characters, plot, ships, etc. i love coming up with ideas regarding the aforementioned. i love sharing art, making spotify playlists, sharing aesthetics, etc! as stated previously, i am quite often active and i am looking for long-term interaction. if we fall out of a roleplay or fandom, don’t worry. we can just create another. if you want to bring in a new concept, i will absolutely do research! i also love the concept of “what if” regarding to events in canon. i also love crossover characters, exploring and making up lore too! i’m up for fix-its as well. i am not too familar with “doubling up”, though i love doing two different things at once in a roleplay! however, doing two separate roleplays for the same fandom is quite repetitive to me so i tend to avoid it. i will also play canon characters for your oc as well! i try don’t just play one canon character, i like a variety! i also do the occasional nsfw / smut, though i am much more focused on other things so it won’t be a huge part of the roleplay.

tropes! i am a huge fan of tropes, especially with romantic dynamics! some of my favorites are enemies to lovers, forbidden love, soulmates, and lovers to enemies. not into shipping all that much? that’s fine! my favorite trope of all time is found family!

my style! i am a relatively literate person. my replies typically consist of three paragraphs, though i am happy to do more when the time calls for it! though i use lowercase for aesthetic purposes, my grammar and spelling is otherwise sound! i write in third person and most often in past tense. i’m also very plot-oriented, so please do not interact with this post if you only play a few amount of canon characters! i have multiple ocs for certain fandoms and i also can play whatever canon characters needed. also, i love to include canon / oc, canon / canon, and oc / oc. please do not ask me to just do just one of the aforementioned or opposite sex ships, i am much more interested in variety. i also typically do not roleplay live action fandoms, and i am uncomfortable using real life people as faceclaims in most cases. i use picrew, my own artistic abilities, or i use animated faceclaims. however, there are exceptions to this so please do not feel discouraged! also i am typically a plot-oriented person, so i play multiple characters. i also do not roleplay with people who use the art of others for their faceclaims without permission.

please note i ask for these things in return!

fandoms: overwatch, star wars ( tcw, tbb, totj — please only interact for star wars if you have at least seen the first two! i also love incorporating legends into star wars roleplays! ), transformers ( bayverse, transformers prime with influences from comics ), dc animation ( earth-16, dcau, dcamu with influences from comics ), riordanverse ( percy jackson, heroes of olympus ), avatar ( atla, tlok ), the dragon prince.

please note what i am currently fixating on is italicized! but do not be discouraged if you are into another fandom i mentioned. honestly, i love doing two separate fandoms at once! however, i tend to only want to do the same category, if that makes sense. for example, i consider overwatch, star wars, transformers, and dc one category — with riordanverse, avatar, and the dragon prince in another.

[the-boy-who-sought-freedom]

Role-Play Rules/General Guideline

I normally only roleplay 'extreme' literate. That means at least over five sentences. (400 - 1000 words.) This, of course, doesn't always apply in certain cases. Sometimes a reply may be small, so be it. Feel free to DM me if you need an example of how I write. I will gladly provide you with an excerpt from a previous RP I have done, or even link you to my AO3 Account. Please have somewhat of a strong grasp of grammar. If you don't know the difference between their, there, and they're, as well as your, and you're, then we're probably not a good match. Punctuation is an exception since I myself sometimes struggle with this! I RP THIRD-PERSON POV ONLY!

I have zero triggers! This doesn't mean that I will do absolutely anything. This just means that if you have an idea and I like it/am interested, then I will accept it. Aka gore, incest, smut, LGBTQ+, Homophobia, different types of AU's, prostitution, alcoholism, drug abuse, self-harm, mpreg, etc. I should be okay with it. :) Note: I will not RP Canonverse/Canon-Divergence.

I have the right to refuse you as a partner or end the RP for any reason at any time. I am not obligated to finish it. Frankly, I don't owe you shit, just as you don't owe me anything. I mean this in the nicest way possible. I respect you as a person and I only wish the same in return. If you are unable to reply for a while, simply let me know! I will try to be understanding since real life always comes first!

DON'T SPAM! This is the fastest way to get yourself blocked. If I don't reply immediately, that probably means that I am busy. I consider myself very swift to reply to you, or at the very least let you know if I will be able to reply that day/week/month or not. If you haven't replied in over a week with no explanation I might simply nudge you. It'll possibly look like this: 'Hello, just wondering how you're doing?' 'Hey, are you going to reply this week/day?' 'Are you growing bored of the RP? Need me to do anything?' etc. Again, this is not a job. I do not get paid, so I have the right to relax. We both should. Roleplaying is how I wind down for the day/is a healthy distraction from everyday life. I'd assume it's similar for you. Take care of yourself first as I will ultimately do the same!

No God-modding, please. Unless you specifically ask, or I tell you that it's alright because I recognize that the scene calls for more action on either of our parts in order to move forward, then I will have absolutely none of that. A character can be strong, yes, but it's simply overkill if you won't allow another character to fight back, make them rich and famous and the other dirt poor... I hope you understand what I mean. RP should be 50/50 so that it is enjoyable for us both. (This rule can be exempt in certain circumstances/settings.)

Starters. This is a big one for some reason. I am willing to write a starter as long as we've spoken ahead first. I'd like to know the general plot so that I don't fuck up an idea you had/have or get the setting wrong. Again, if we message each other we should have no problems. I'd prefer if you asked first as I will always ask if unsure before writing my reply.

Where do I roleplay? Good question. I DO NOT roleplay in reblogs. I DO however roleplay on sites like Discord, Chatzy, or on Tumblr in DM’s, though my favourite is most definitely Discord.

Characters/Ships. I actually consider myself a multi-shipper and thus I tend to be generally okay with any pairing. Some examples of my favourites are Jean x Eren, Erwin x Levi, Floch x Eren, Zeke x Eren, Zeke x Levi, Hanji x Levi, etc. I don’t mind if there are ships within the RP. I actually love it when there’s things like an ex-boyfriend, one is still married, cheating, etc. It gives it some flavour. ;)

Plot! Plot is very important to me. Although I do write smut from time to time, I'd much rather RP plot with a fair bit of smut rather than purely NSFW. That simply isn't as enjoyable to me as a generally nonsexual person even though what I write on AO3 seems to be hypersexual at first glance. I know how to write it- have written it well as far as I've been told -so I will initiate it from time to time if the mood is right. Friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, strangers to friends to lovers... Let's just say I eat that shit up. Bring on the AU's!

Finally, the last thing I can think of at the moment besides the whole 'I hope you understand and accept' deal, is if you have any more questions, my DM’s are always open! I may not get to them right away but I'll make sure to check as often as I can! Thank you for taking the time to read this. I appreciate it.

Once again, this is just a general guideline to follow. I am willing to be flexible, as well as disregard certain aspects if necessary!!!

[thehighfiveproject]

FAQs

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First: please see below for a full definition of each bingo card item. With that said: anything goes! If you want to comment on a rated G Star Wars fic for one square, and leave kudos on a rated E Stranger Things fic for another square, and reblog a "Dead Dove" Avengers artwork for another square -- please feel absolutely free to do so. We want you to have fun, not worry about fitting into any imaginary parameters.

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☆ How do I fill my card? How is each square defined?

Here’s the way we’re defining the activities associated with each card. If any of this is confusing after you read it over, send us a message and we’ll help!

- ‘leave kudos on a fic’

This is the easiest one! Just go out and find a fic you like and leave a kudos on it, if you haven’t already. It’s a small gesture but it makes an author know that someone actually read their story!

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Find any art post you like and share it! Here’s the catch: you need to interact with it a little. When you reblog/retweet, please tell the creator what you thought about the piece – you can add some tags, or reply to the post, or quote-retweet or add a comment, or anything! A simple “I love this!” is nice but some details are even better (“your linework is so good!” or “that shade of blue is perfect”). One thing to think about: a lot of art on Tumblr is reposted (like when a user posts another artist’s work from Pixiv, say), so it’s nice if you make an effort to interact with posts that are actually from the creator if you can. That way the artist will see your comment!

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Same as the above, but for fic! Again, tags/replies/comments are needed, preferably with a little detail. You don’t need to be super eloquent or leave a detailed review (although if you have time/energy, that would be appreciated!); a tag as simple as “that was really cute” or “great characterization!” will do. Like with the art posts, it’s nice if you reblog directly from the writer (if you can) – some fics are posted by AO3 feed bots and the like, so the author may not even know a reblog has happened.

- ‘reblog/retweet an edit’

Same as the above, but for edits! Edits can include a gif set, or a set of screencaps, or even a fanvid. And, again, some simple tags/replies are needed. “I love that song choice!” for a vid or “great coloring!” on a gifset can let people know their work is being appreciated.

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Find a fic, on any fic-hosting site you like, and leave a comment. That’s it! Again, no need to leave a novel-length comment (unless you’re inspired!) – a sentence or two is all we’re asking for this square to be considered complete. This is a great opportunity to let a writer know how their piece made you feel, or what section you particularly liked.

- ‘message a creator’

‘Creator’ here can mean anyone who makes *anything* to do with fandom: art, edits, fic, meta, knitted sweaters with character faces on them – if they’ve made anything, they’re a creator, and now’s your chance to let them know they’re appreciated. Send a message (anonymous or not!) letting them know that you enjoyed their work!

- ‘make a rec post’

This is a chance to tell your fandom friends about something they need to see. You can rec a fic, a blog, a fan event, an artist, an author, that person who knits sweaters with character faces – any kind of fandom thing that you want to make sure people see. This doesn’t have to be long or complicated, but feel free to go into as much detail as you want! Just make your own post, on Tumblr or Twitter or wherever else seems best to you, and give that thing you loved a little fanfare.

- ‘interact with a meta post’

A little love for our analytical friends! Here, you can reblog/retweet any kind of meta post for your fandom, whether it’s a three sentence headcanon or an essay-length dissection of why Character X is the absolute best character in Fandom Y. It’s even better if you respond to the meta, whether that’s agreeing or (respectfully!) adding your own thoughts, but sharing it is the main thing here.

[sylphidine]

[Fic] Call Signs, Chapter 22

Fandom: Deltarune

‘Verse: Human AU

Pairing: Swatch/Spamton [Swatchton]

Characters: Swatch Paletta, Spamton Addison, Eos Addison [Pink Addison], Ballew Addison [Blue Addison], Sienna Addison-Timothy [Orange Addison], Saffron Timothy-Addison [Yellow Addison], T.M. Tanner [Tasque Manager], Catechu Dyer [Swatchling], Indigo Dyer [Swatchling], GiGi McCray [Queen], Leroux Kaard [Rouxls Kaard], mentioned Mama Michelina [OC]. mentioned Papa Andy [OC], mentioned Coz Pitchiner [NDU]

Rating: Mature

Chapter title: Chaos Of The Bells, Part Two

Chapter summary: Some halls get decked, some preconceptions get wrecked, and thus the holiday season lurches on.

Author notes:  No real warnings needed for this chapter, other than an alcohol mention [very brief]. No flashbacks this chapter, either. Can't say the same for the next few chapters [cue ominous incidental music].

______________________

January 3, 2022 - 8AM

T.M. 's phone played her “cool beats” text notification, giving her a much-needed reason to excuse herself from the nauseating sight of her mother fawning over her latest boyfriend at the breakfast table.  At least this one kept his beard neatly trimmed and didn’t wear more eyeliner than T.M. herself did.

When she’d made it safely to her room, she flopped down on her bed and opened her messages. The newest was from her suitemate Regina McCray.

From: THEQUEENOFEVERYTHING

To: TABBYCAT

LOL You WIll Never Guess Who I Hooked Up With On New Years Eve

I’ll Give You One Guess He’s Tall And Goofy And Likes Puzzles. And Bonus Clue He Has A Cute Kid In Preschool

T.M. groaned and barely restrained herself from throwing the phone at the wall.  She was fond of Leroux Kaard in her own way, and she did agree with GiGi that Leroux’s adopted son Lance was indeed very cute, although a bit hyper even for a four-year-old.

But Leroux with GiGi?  GiGi the unstoppable, GiGi whose mouth ran five times faster than her brain, GiGi who had to be gently reminded that other people had feelings?  GiGi who never took anything seriously until the absolute very last minute?

Poor ‘Roux.  He was going to get his heart stomped on like a hapless civilian getting trampled by a mecha in a bad movie.

If this spun out into something more than a “wham bam thank you ma’am”, T.M. could count on her last semester at Inwood being very interesting.

In the cursed sense of may you live in interesting times kind of “interesting”.

December 30, 2021 - 2PM

Saffron was startled to see her water glass completely full again after she could have sworn she’d just drained it; she hadn’t even noticed the server until he was directly across from her, refilling her lunch companion’s water glass.  She gathered herself to say, “Thank you… Lou?”

Lou smiled brilliantly at her and moved away.  Swatch raised an eyebrow over the rims of those [ridiculous] tinted eyeglasses, as though surprised that she could be nice to a server.

“I met Sienna at an Athleta shop in Greenwich,” she found herself blurting out. “Of course an Addison would be shopping in Greenwich, and of course a Timothy from New Rochelle shouldn’t have any business there.”

Now both of Swatch’s eyebrows were raised, but he… they … didn’t reply. So Saffron kept talking.

“Sienna was just so… serene, so sweet.  We were both looking at yoga pants, but our reasons were entirely different. I’m the fitness expert, the one who helps keep people’s bodies in shape; she works with minds and hearts.  She was looking for something to wear to project an aura of peace… I was looking for something practical that my clients would get the most out of wearing while they exercised. She turned to me as we were looking at the same rack of stuff and asked me my opinion.”

She smiled ruefully, reminiscing, “ I probably came off as a bossy jerk.” 

Swatch gave her a half-smile and an encouraging nod, so Saffron continued. “I can’t help it.  I’m the oldest of eight kids and I’m used to needing to bark orders to kids who don’t listen. It was a real burst of sunshine to have someone listen to me for a change… somebody who wasn’t paying me for the privilege.”

She continued to describe how that chance encounter with SIenna led to their first date, and then more dates over the next few months, and finally to the first holiday she got to spend with the Addison family, where she met Sienna’s two older brothers and her younger brother.

“Have you SEEN that house, Swatch?”

“Not in person, but Spamton has described it.”

“Then you can understand why it was kind of confusing to imagine that as a place where SIenna could have grown up.  But it’s the perfect setting for a spoiled brat, prep school trust fund kid like Gainsboro.”

The man across the table from Saffron leaned towards her and asked, “Why do you keep calling my partner by a name he doesn’t want to use?” The tone of voice was guarded, but Saffron could hear the implied disapproval, and she did her best not to bristle as she replied, “Because that’s what Sienna has always called him!”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Hmmm. Then I think she’s the only person who does, besides you.”

Defensive now, she tried to explain, remembering some of her and Sienna’s earlier conversations about their separate families. Saffron had given the bare bones description of the Timothy brood, but Sienna took sweet and shy pride in talking about her three brothers.

“It might sound weird, but… Her mom and dad told her, when they announced the pregnancy, that this baby was going to be Sienna’s baby, and she took that to heart. She adored him, spent all her time after school with him, even though the family had a live-in nanny. Sienna called him her little boy blue, after that famous painting.”

That got a fuller smile out of Swatch. Encouraged, she kept going, musing, “On our first date, Sienna told me that after her parents died and Eos and Ballew left school and changed their career paths to work at Addison Cybernetics, she was the only one around for the kid to talk to.” 

Saffron reached for her glass and gulped more water. “I know she went too far in spoiling him,” she muttered, “ but Sienna wasn’t given any kind of blueprint.  She spent all her time after school with her baby brother, when she could have been a normal teenager with her own stuff to do.  She went to freakin’  community college instead of escaping from that… that mausoleum of a house, and going away to school like she wanted to… By the time she graduated, her two older brothers had sent Gainsboro away to that snobby academy, and her baby didn’t need her any more.”

She was horrified to feel herself getting choked up.  She hadn’t realized just how much resentment she had harbored against her brother-in-law on her wife’s behalf over the years.

“Will you excuse me?” she said, rising slowly. “I’m just going to the restroom.” She did her best not to break into a run after leaving the table.

So that’s how it was, Swatch thought to themself while they waited for Saffron to return. Spamton’s sister-in-law had formed her own thoughts on Spamton through how Sienna viewed him.

Talk about unreliable narrators!

They doubted that they were going to get any kind of accurate answer to why Saffron disliked Spamton so heartily, when viewed through that kind of lens. And they had lost any kind of appetite they might have had for Arcobaleno’s famous gelato .

Saffron apparently had lost her own appetite as well, because when Swatch asked whether she wanted dessert, she just shook her head.  Visibly clamping down on her emotions, the woman signaled to Lou for the check and refused to let Swatch chip in any more than a tip. [Which of course Swatch made sure was in excess of 25%.]

The two left the restaurant in awkward silence. Once outside though, after a mumbled inquiry as to whether Saffron could drop Swatch off anywhere and Swatch assured Saffron that it wasn’t necessary, using their new cane to gesture that they weren’t terribly far from home, Saffron dropped her bombshell.

“He called ME a gold digger, even when he was sleeping with that professor for money.  Make sure he doesn’t pull a shakedown act on you.”

Swatch opened their mouth and shut it again rapidly, afraid that they looked like a stunned fish. Before they could come up with a response to that inflammatory statement, Saffron turned and walked away, heading to the parking lot with her head down.

They weren’t sure whether they’d gained a new relative, or had made a new enemy.

December 24, 2021 - 6AM

Eos Addison was feeling all of his forty-one years this particular Christmas Eve morning at dawn, standing alone in the kitchen with a rapidly cooling cup of coffee in his hands.  The light snow that he had seen from his bedroom window in the middle of the night had tapered off, but the clouds were still hanging heavy and full of moisture in the air. A low-lying fog now lay over the grounds. The view beyond the French doors that led to the covered patio fit his mood… muzzy, yet unsettled.

His mind kept trying to find things he had forgotten to do before closing the Addison Cybernetics offices for the holiday week, but the circle wouldn’t complete itself. Nothing had been forgotten; Ballew wouldn’t have let anything be forgotten. Ballew never dropped any of the balls he was juggling, and especially not the ones he plucked out of Eos’s feeble grasp.

Anyone else would be thankful to be shedding work responsibilities in the season of cheer, but not him.  He wanted to be handling business problems rather than dealing with the tattered wreck that his family had become.

His most excruciating failure lay asleep upstairs. At least this Christmas, his youngest brother was safely asleep under a roof, tucked between the softest microfiber sheets money could buy and covered with luxurious fleece blankets and a sinfully decadent duvet.

No thanks to any effort on his part. 

He was going to ruin the day for everyone else if he persisted in letting this mood control him, Eos realized with a jolt.  He physically and mentally gave himself a shake and strode out of the kitchen, making his way to the music room.  If he were quiet enough, he could get an hour in on the baby grand before Gerard arrived and everyone else woke up. 

He started with several warm-up exercises before losing himself in his beloved Bach concertos. He wandered his way through the first movement and halfway through the second movement of Piano Concerto No. 1 in D Minor before he noticed the shadow on the wall beside him. Without turning around or breaking off the music flowing through his fingers, thinking that it was Ballew, he murmured, “There’s room on the bench!” 

Eos kept playing, completing the Adagio and segueing neatly into the final Allegro , stumbling only slightly over the keys when he realized that it was Spamton, not Ballew, who’d sat down  next to him. He recovered quickly, giving a head tilt and a tentative smile at his youngest brother before finishing the concerto and placing his hands loosely on his lap.  He turned himself on the bench to face Spamton and said, “Good morning!  I wasn’t expecting you to be awake so early! DId you sleep okay?”

“Really well, thanks,” Spamton replied. “And - and you?”

“Mmmmm, not bad,” Eos found himself answering automatically, wanting so badly instead to shout and scream, No, my sleep was lousy. I keep thinking you’re dead and that I’m just imagining you alive. I’m so glad you’re here and I’m scared stiff that you’re not really here and I can’t tell the difference anymore between having waking nightmares and sleeping ones.

Instead, he asked, “Care to play some two-handed carols with me, like we used to do?”

Spamton blinked at his eldest brother, seemingly taken aback by the query, but he answered with what sounded like genuine happiness in his tone, “S-sure!”

They started together with the Coventry Carol, then worked their joint way through “It Came Upon The Midnight Clear”. Then Eos started picking the chords of “Masters In This Hall” with his left hand, an exaggerated frown on his face, while Spamton broke into an impish grin and played “Bring A Torch, Jeannette, Isabella” as counterpoint with his right hand, The brothers started pressing their respective keys harder and louder and moving closer together on the bench until their arms and hands crossed over one another onto opposite sides of the keyboard, like something out of a Looney Tunes cartoon. Eos broke character first and started to play “Chopsticks” with both hands, which sent Spamton into a fit of laughter.

“I’ve m-m-missed this so m-much,” he said. “Thank you, Eos.”

Eos looked down at the piano, fingers stilling on the keys, and muttered, “For the last few Christmases, I thought we’d never have the chance to do this again.” Then he snaked an arm around Spamton and pulled him into a half-hug, hoping his gesture would be enough, since he no longer trusted his voice.

His little brother just leaned into the hug and stayed silent.

Eos heard the ding of his phone’s alarm. reminding him that Gerard would be waiting to be let in to start cooking for the day.  He squeezed Spamton one more time and dropped a kiss on the top of his hair before getting up and stretching.  “I could use some coffee, how about you?”

And the magic moment was gone.

December 25, 2021 - 10AM

“Do you have room for two more, or is this gonna be a boys-only holiday?” a feminine voice chirped.

Ballew surged forward when he saw who was at the door. He grabbed Sienna in a bear hug, then released her and did the same to Saffron. He noticed the strained look on the latter’s face when he let go, but was distracted by Sienna tugging on his arm as she entered the foyer and practically dragging him down the hallway.  

They both passed Eos and Spamton, who had been alerted by the doorbell. Spamton looked at Saffron standing alone on the threshold, as though she wasn’t sure she was welcome, and deliberately put on a cheerful expression.  “Happy C-Christmas, Saffron. C-can I help bring - bring in your stuff?”

The corners of her lips twitched up in a smile that was as manufactured as his own, and she replied, “That would be just keen .” She turned abruptly and went back outside.

Eos put a hand on Spamton’s shoulder in silent support as they both followed Saffron to the car. “I detect some trouble in paradise,” he murmured. 

Hmmmmmm.

His sister and his sister-in-law showing up before noon on Christmas Day, when the two of them had said they would be out of town until New Year’s?

Definitely trouble in paradise. 

December 26, 2021 - 7PM

“I don’t want to keep repeating ‘I miss you’, but I do,” Spamton wrote in the Burning Questions Project journal. “Not even four months ago, I didn’t even know you existed, and now you are the most important person in my life.”

He knew it wasn’t a question, but he didn’t care about semantics at the moment.

“So the biggest question, out of all the burning questions, is why do I love you? And why the hell am I trying to put that into words, anyway? 

“Well, front and center, I think the word ‘steadfast’ was invented for you. Oh, I know that most people think of that Hans Christian Andersen story when that word’s mentioned, but seriously, you are the epitome of that soldier with his unwavering  tin heart and his absolute faith in his ballerina. You give all your mind, all your support, all of YOU in everything you do, even when it’s something negative. Like when you had first made up your mind about me being a stuck-up brat.  Yeah, it wasn’t pleasant being despised, but you were firm in your convictions.

“So I learned to love you for your steadfastness. It made a real difference compared to all the other people in my life who only wanted to know what I could do for them. 

“You’re good to your friends, good to your family, and you don’t put up with bullshit.  Those are all lovable qualities in my eyes.”

Sitting back in the armchair in the study, he tapped his pen against his knee. Spamton was at a loss as to how to phrase that he thought Swatch was gorgeous without sounding shallow, as if he only cared about Swatch’s appearance.

But it was a plain fact that Swatch was easy on the eyes, and an absolute delight to hold, and to kiss, and to… and to do things to, things that made Swatch make utterly delicious noises…

Even though he was all alone in the room, Spamton got up quickly and hid his notebook under a cushion, feeling himself blushing to the tips of his ears.

That line of thinking was better to pursue when there wasn’t any chance of a sibling popping in to tease him. Particularly after the way last night had gone.

December 25, 2021 - late afternoon into evening

“Great idea, kiddo,” Ballew tossed over his shoulder as he stalked ahead of the rest of the family to get back to the house as fast as possible.  He needed to get into dry clothing before he caught pneumonia. But he was smiling as he said it.

“S-s-sorry,” replied Spamton, not sounding sorry at all.  “B-but it was fun! At least we got s-some exercise!”

“Playing Frisbee in the snow is fun,” Sienna interjected. “Playing Frisbee in sleet and fog is, ummmm, less fun.”  But she too was smiling, as was Saffron; their arms were wrapped around each other’s waists and they both seemed a lot less tense than they’d been in the morning.  When Spamton had suggested reviving the Addison tradition of working up an appetite before their big dinner, the two women had been the most enthusiastic, and the first to agree.

“You planning on introducing Swatch to this little custom, Spamton?” Ballew continued as Eos unlocked the door to the mudroom and the whole family shed their wet outerwear.  He probably thought he was being subtle, but everyone’s heads turned to him. 

Saffron’s eyebrows were raised, Sienna wore a confused look, and Eos asked, “Swatch? Was that who you brought as your date to the Blacks’ party?”

And that released a whole avalanche of questions and comments from Sienna and Saffron.

“Wait, my baby brother has a boyfriend?  Since when?”

“Isn’t Swatch Spamton's roommate…”

“Oh my god, they’re roommates?”

“You’re dating again, Gainsboro? After what happened the last time?”

That last interjection was the last straw for Spamton.

“HOLD THE PHONE!” he yelled, then put one hand over his face and groaned. “L-look, can this w-wait until after dinner? I was going to t-talk to everybody about it. Really. I pr-promise I’m n-not hiding anything this - this time.”

Ballew shot Saffron one of his trademarked Evil Eye glances, the one that usually came out at boardroom meetings when he needed to quell talk of hostile takeovers. “I agree with Spamton. Let’s all calm down. This will keep until later.  I want a hot shower and a hot meal, in that order, and I’m sure you all want the same.”

Sienna looked back at Ballew with nearly as sharp a look as he’d given her wife, but she let out a half-snort, half-sigh and conceded with a silent “OK” gesture.

“Agreed,” Eos chimed in.  “But I definitely want to hear more about this ‘Swatch’ guy.”

“They’re n-not a ‘guy’. They’re a person. And they - they’re from Queens, and they’re twenty-one, and they’re sweet…” Spamton sputtered.

An hour and a half later, the five of them had demolished a huge meal, the entrees that Gerard had prepared yesterday being equally balanced between carnivore and vegetarian palettes. Dessert was tiramisu, and Eos cranked up the espresso maker and broke out the brandy, the Kahlua, and the Creme Yvette. No one seemed in a rush to move out of the dining room, and the atmosphere was more relaxed than it had been all day.

Which was why Spamton hated to ruin it, but that casual comment by Eos about Swatch being his date had set things in motion sooner than Spamton would have wanted. It couldn’t be helped; the deed was done, and Spamton would have to muddle through somehow.  He was NOT going to disappear again, and he was going to be moving to a place where any and all of his siblings… yes, even Saffron… could find him and visit him whenever they liked.

If one were being technical, the only person’s APPROVAL that Spamton NEEDED for making a change in his residence was Ballew’s, due to Ballew’ responsibility for Spamton’s finances until he turned twenty-five and could administer his own trust.  But he WANTED his family members to be reassured that he wasn’t just jumping into a cohabiting situation blindly. 

Every head turned to him as he cleared his throat and started telling his siblings about Swatch Paletta, about the months they’d lived together in the dorm, how Swatch and he had gotten closer after Swatch’s accident, how Swatch needed to find a new place after losing their scholarship, and how he, Spamton, had been instrumental in finding that new place for Swatch.

“Swatch isn’t M-Mike, they never c-c-c-could be M-Mike…”

He trailed off after his stutter got to be too much for him to even string a sentence together. He bowed his head and looked at the “clouds” in his coffee, not wanting to see the looks on anyone’s faces, expecting to hear disappointment in their reactions, or worse, pitying “understanding” that poor little Gainsboro had latched onto another manipulator and needed to be protected from himself.

Eos spoke up first. “It sounds to me like Spamton and Swatch are making the decision to live together jointly. I mean, I can’t tell from meeting them first, but I don’t think this sounds like a power move on Swatch’s part.”

“But living together when it’s just them and you in a small house… it’s different than dorming with this guy and a couple of other roommates,” Sienna said. “If the relationship doesn’t work out, you’re stuck in a lease for six months, with no Housing Office to step in.”

Trust his sister to think of practicalities.  But it seemed to Spamton that she was more accepting that this WAS a relationship than he’d expected her to be.

Ballew tapped a dessert spoon on the side of his brandy glass, and they all turned to him. “I’ve got the advantage over the rest of you since I’ve already met Swatch, and…” he held up his hand when the others looked like they were about to interrupt en masse , “AND we aren’t talking about someone who’s out to make Spamton into a puppet again. Literally or figuratively.”

“P-p-p-plus the house isn’t - isn’t that small,” Spamton interjected. “There’s p-p-plenty of room if we need space from one another.”

“My, that’s mature of you, Gainsboro. Well thought-out.”  That was Saffron, and Spamton was taken aback. Her tone was no different than how she usually addressed him, but he had the sneaking suspicion that there was more than one level of conversation going on here. Was that comment meant for him, or for Sienna?

Sienna herself was unfazed by her wife’s statement and asked, “So when do we get to meet this paragon?”

“I’m n-n-not sure… let me ask them.”

Eos took the opportunity to stand up, saying in a silly British accent, “Right, let’s have a ding dong.” He looked conspiratorially at Spamton, who brightened considerably and started humming, “Ding dong merrily on high” as he too got up. The rest of the siblings looked puzzled until they realized that their eldest and their youngest brothers intended to serenade them in the music room.

“We haven’t sung Christmas carols together in YEARS,” Sienna whispered in Saffron’s ear as she followed the men out of the dining room. “You should hear Gainsboro… he’s got the voice of an angel. Or at least he used to.”

Saffron frowned slightly. “Seems to be a day for revisiting traditions.  Hope you and I can invent some of our own.”

Sienna didn’t have an answer to that. She didn’t want to start that argument again.

January 16, 2022 -3PM

Spamton’s heart was pounding as Ballew expertly parked in front of the Tibbetts Avenue townhouse. Swatch’s Toyota was in the driveway, with T.M.’s Pontiac and an unfamiliar VW Bug parked right behind it. 

This was really happening. 

He got out almost before the car had actually stopped, and sprinted up the porch steps. Swatch opened the door an instant after Spamton rang the doorbell and swept him up in their arms in a hearty embrace, seeming not to notice or care that they had an audience both inside and outside the house.

Well, if Swatch wasn’t going to care, then neither was Spamton. He kissed along Swatch’s jaw, nestling his head into the crook of their neck for a few precious seconds, and then slid down Swatch’s body until he was back on his feet.

By that time Eos had pulled up behind Ballew’s car in the U-Haul and had parked, coming up the stairs.  The porch was getting quite crowded, but Swatch took over, inviting Spamton’s brothers inside and handling the group introductions with their usual aplomb.

“You know my cousins, Indigo and Catechu,” they said as they led everyone into the kitchen, where the twins stood talking to T.M. and two other people. The tall girl in the black turtleneck, white pants and white snow boots turned out to be T.M. 's roommate GiGi, and the slender man with the silver cornrowed hair was Leroux. 

Spamton resisted the urge to tell Swatch that he already knew Mister Wormyhead. No use endangering his DJ spot.

Eos and Ballew shook hands all around, and then T.M. started giving directions like a circus trainer.  In less time than Spamton expected, his clothes and personal items had been moved into the downstairs bedroom [where Swatch’s clothes were already unpacked and put away], and his stereo equipment, his record collection, his books, and the desk with the bookshelf hutch from his bedroom at home were set up in one of the upstairs bedrooms.

Swatch mentioned in passing, during one of the trips upstairs and down, that they had already set up their studio in the other upstairs bedroom in the two weeks they’d been living there. They now deflected T.M. from “volunteering” to give a tour with one raised eyebrow.  She pouted, but complied.  Swatch beamed back at her like a benevolent emperor, and Spamton once again envied their camaraderie.

As if T.M.’s latest statement had been some sort of signal, GiGi announced that “We” were heading to dinner if anyone cared to join them.  It was hard to tell whether the “We” meant the group at large, or if she was using the royal “We”, as T.M. said she sometimes did.  

Catechu said, “Sorry, can’t make it, gonna catch up with Kendra.”

“Guess you’re stuck with me, then, Indo,” parried T.M. as she linked Indigo’s arm through hers. 

Leroux said politely, “Verily nice to meeteth all of you,” as he followed GiGi out.

Spamton exchanged a look with both his brothers, who found an excuse to pull him into a corner to say their goodbyes, citing the forecast of possible bad weather. Ballew promised to text as soon as he got back to Purchase, and Eos nodded his agreement.

The twins each punched Spamton lightly in the arm. As they and T.M. took their leave, T.M. said, “Anyway, you’re missing the real reason why we needed all hands on deck to move you in today, Short Stuff.”

“Oh? Wh-what’s that?”

“What’s that, says the guy who only has eyes for the big beautiful Birdman in the kitchen.  Go check out the OTHER big beauty in the living room.” On that cryptic note, the three departed.

Leaving Spamton and Swatch alone in the kitchen.

Swatch stood leaning their back on the edge of the kitchen sink, arms crossed over their chest, their posture entirely too casual.

They’re as nervous as I am , Spamton realized.  He reached his arms out to Swatch, and they both met in the middle of the room, holding onto each other for dear life.

“I thought they’d n-never leave.”

“There’s a surprise for you waiting in the living room.”

“I don’t c-care, I haven’t hugged you in almost a m-m-month. A surprise c-can wait.”

“Mmmmm. I missed those starfish hugs of yours.”

“Well, there’s pl-plenty more where that one c-came from.”

“Mmmmmmmmmm.”

“Mmmmmmmmmm.”

 Spamton very reluctantly pulled himself out of Swatch’s arms and looked up into the other’s face. “Okay, I g-guess I can handle a surprise now.”

Swatch smiled down at him, eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Well, it’s actually a surprise for both of us, and I swear I had nothing to do with it. You’ll see. C’mon.”  They held their big warm hand out; Spamton took it and laced their fingers together as they both left the kitchen.

Spamton had seen photos of the living room and remembered the loveseat and the recliner on one side of the room. He remembered the fireplace and he remembered the cushioned window seat. 

He did NOT remember the upright piano.

“Surprise,” Swatch said in a soft voice. “Mrs. Anselmo had it in storage, and left me a note when I picked up the keys from her grandson. Her husband was the one who played, and she’s happy to know someone will play it now.”

[ikemenomegas]

Hello! It's Amy. I saw your kink rating meme haha, and I thought I'd throw some into your inbox 😉

(Also, I have seen your messages, sorry I haven't replied! I have five hours of physio every single day and my arms feel like jelly and I'm so tired haha.)

Anyway, for the kinks... Hmm, how about some basic ones:

a) Exhibitionism

b) Hair pulling

c) Chastity

I hope you're well :D - animeomegas <3

Hi Amy! Please don't be sorry! I know you're hurting and you've said your busy. Just focus on feeling better! Thank you for playing even despite feeling poorly 🤗.

I finished a summer final last night so I finally can come back to this. Thanks for giving me basic ones 🤭 ease into it.

Exhibitionism

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

In most fics, even though the fantasy element is supposed to make it safe, I can't, like, relate? the anxiety spikes too high so i'll avoid the tag lkasfd. There's specific scenarios like for threesomes where this can be super hot though and it's cute if a character has this - imagine the aggressive public flirting! Trying to come up with fic ideas... maybe making Julian watch but not allowing him to touch? Or having a "public" outing with Obito? (genjutsu time? which is funny because the word used for genjutsu is also the word used for reality)

Hair pulling

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

This is a solid "it depends". I have long hair and have for most of my life and hate it being pulled because that pain is really bothersome. However. I've seen some art that absolutely reminds me some people like this, and we do like the long haired men over here. Fic ideas because subliminate... there's a good chance that Itachi likes his hair being pulled a little, like in a shibari kind of way, and I think Kakashi would be into it (keeping on task I'd be into if he is, okay? 🙈)

Chastity

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

A solid yes. There are some really cute accoutrements, if you will. Like... everything about it has the potential to be cute? putting it on, knowing that it takes getting used to, love the idea of a subtle key. For characters who are into this and would broach the topic first, absolutely a big hell yeah! Hmm for ideas... ideas for context... Shisui could be fun, long missions away etc. Jumin might play on days he works from home although a partner would probably need to drag the full request out of him. I think there's also something psychological about needing a device rather than self control to accomplish what chastity does that appeals to the characters in different ways. It certainly appeals to me!

[houseofmuzes]

Rules & Requirements|| By Rhiannon. - #ofherdowlingohara, #ofhermedicine, #ofherdragons

Little about me:

My name is Rhiannon, Mutuals May call me Rhia for short.

Pronunciation for my name’s : Ryeh-Ann-on& Ryeh-uh

I own three other accounts. This is a side blog.

Multi account @ofherdowlingohara

HOTD account @ofherdragons

Nurse Jackie Account @ofhermedicine

0. My education comes first before everything else! I will try and respond during class changes, and breaks. I also work full time, and occasionally on weekends.

1. No hate, No drama, No Godmodding. Absolutely zero tolerance for bullying or harassment. Please note that my anon asks are off, they are off for a reason and I will not turn them back on. Want to ask me something privately, message me.

2. No one under the Age of 20+ years old is allowed to Interact with my muses. 18+ are welcome to follow, ask questions, and have OOC interactions. Just not In character interactions.

3. If you have a problem with what I post, be that most of my characters are apart of the LGBTQ+ community. Don’t follow, just block.

4. I am a multi fandom rp blog. I do accept Cannon and Original Characters, to Rp with. I do have Two OC’s myself, and three cannon characters in two different verses. Two cannon characters I have made my own. Jackie I can play as the OG storyline if need be.

5. Please let me know if you have triggers beforehand. This will save if either of us get upset or triggered with something either of us use in rp or in a post.

6. With that being said in rule number five, I can tolerate mentions of Miscarriages, Rape. But not full detailed. I would prefer those too not at all fully role played out or at all. Mentions are fine. I am very sensitive to those topics as of current.

7. Please Rp in third person, and literacy. I will except Semiliterate and Literate as well as advanced literate Rp responses. If you’re not literate I most likely will not respond, but I will make an acceptance for people with dyslexia or if English isn’t your first language. I have been there before, English is my third language. German, Polish and English are the ones I speak and understand.

8. I am a Full time College Student, I am a Theatre Arts Major so I will be busy most of the time. Please don’t spam me, you are allowed Five post tags a day. No more, no less.

10. I do not condone to rp Student x Teacher rps. That’s creepy and disgusting.

11. If you fail to follow these rules and guidelines, I will either soft block you for a few weeks. Or I will block you and put your account(s) on a blacklist for DNI between mutuals to keep them safe from your toxicity.

12. Please for the love of god’s, do not go to other people if we have a problem with something. Nor have them come ‘confront’ me about an issue I am not aware of, come directly to me like the adults we are supposed to be so we can talk an issue out. Nor come to me bashing about some other blog, bc they did this etc., I generally do not care what they have done to you (unless you are my mutuals that I interact with on the daily, I will defend my mutuals if they haven’t done me wrong.) it’s unnecessary drama especially if there’s no solid evidence. It’s not that I don’t Care for my mutuals deeply, I just don’t want to be dragged into unnecessary stress drama. Do not come to me with your OOC drama with other blogs. You can always come to me with your personal issues and that is it. Unless we’re in the same GC then I’ll deal with said OOC drama before defending myself and leaving. Any violation of this specific rule, will result in an immediate Blacklisting. I will make a physical List to share with blogs I’m mutual with.

13. I do have medical issues such as seizures and fainting spells. That can and will get in the way of replying. Please don’t take offense if I don’t respond for a few days and disappear. I will not ghost anyone intentionally, but will give heads up if I lose interest in rp. Or if I’ll be on hiatus for brief periods of time.

With this being said, I hope I covered all my rules throughly. I will add things as I see fit. I will add an interest tracker soon. I will encourage you all to please take time in reading my rules. This account is my safe space as well as my writing blog. I do have a side Blog that is a backup, please follow said side blog in case of something were to happen to this account. @houseofmuzes is my backup.

[ofherdowlingohara]

Rules & Requirements|| By Rhiannon. - #ofherdowlingohara

Little about me:

My name is Rhiannon, Mutuals May call me Rhia for short.

Pronunciation for my name’s : Ryeh-Ann-on& Ryeh-uh

I am twenty years old.

0. My education comes first before everything else! I will try and respond during class changes, and breaks. I also work full time, and occasionally on weekends.

1. No hate, No drama, No Godmodding. Absolutely zero tolerance for bullying or harassment. Please note that my anon asks are off, they are off for a reason and I will not turn them back on. Want to ask me something privately, message me.

2. No one under the Age of 20+ years old is allowed to Interact with my muses. 18+ are welcome to follow, ask questions, and have OOC interactions. Just not In character interactions.

3. If you have a problem with what I post, be that most of my characters are apart of the LGBTQ+ community. Don’t follow, just block.

4. I am a multi fandom rp blog. I do accept Cannon and Original Characters, to Rp with. I do have Two OC’s myself, and three cannon characters in two different verses. Two cannon characters I have made my own. Jackie I can play as the OG storyline if need be.

5. Please let me know if you have triggers beforehand. This will save if either of us get upset or triggered with something either of us use in rp or in a post.

6. With that being said in rule number five, I can tolerate mentions of Miscarriages, Rape. But not full detailed. I would prefer those too not at all fully role played out or at all. Mentions are fine. I am very sensitive to those topics as of current.

7. Please Rp in third person, and literacy. I will except Semiliterate and Literate as well as advanced literate Rp responses. If you’re not literate I most likely will not respond, but I will make an acceptance for people with dyslexia or if English isn’t your first language. I have been there before, English is my third language. German, Polish and English are the ones I speak and understand.

8. I am a Full time College Student, I am a Theatre Arts Major so I will be busy most of the time. Please don’t spam me, you are allowed Five post tags a day. No more, no less.

10. I do not condone to rp Student x Teacher rps. That’s creepy and disgusting.

11. If you fail to follow these rules and guidelines, I will either soft block you for a few weeks. Or I will block you and put your account(s) on a blacklist for DNI between mutuals to keep them safe from your toxicity.

12. Please for the love of god’s, do not go to other people if we have a problem with something. Nor have them come ‘confront’ me about an issue I am not aware of, come directly to me like the adults we are supposed to be so we can talk an issue out. Nor come to me bashing about some other blog, bc they did this etc., I generally do not care what they have done to you (unless you are my mutuals that I interact with on the daily, I will defend my mutuals if they haven’t done me wrong.) it’s unnecessary drama especially if there’s no solid evidence. It’s not that I don’t Care for my mutuals deeply, I just don’t want to be dragged into unnecessary stress drama. Do not come to me with your OOC drama with other blogs. You can always come to me with your personal issues and that is it. Unless we’re in the same GC then I’ll deal with said OOC drama before defending myself and leaving. Any violation of this specific rule, will result in an immediate Blacklisting. I will make a physical List to share with blogs I’m mutual with.

13. I do have medical issues such as seizures and fainting spells. That can and will get in the way of replying. Please don’t take offense if I don’t respond for a few days and disappear. I will not ghost anyone intentionally, but will give heads up if I lose interest in rp. Or if I’ll be on hiatus for brief periods of time.

With this being said, I hope I covered all my rules throughly. I will add things as I see fit. I will add an interest tracker soon. I will encourage you all to please take time in reading my rules. This account is my safe space as well as my writing blog. I do have a side Blog that is a backup, please follow said side blog in case of something were to happen to this account. @/florencedowlingohara is my backup.

[whatisonthemoon]

UC Member Serving in Vietnam Asks Young Oon Kim if Killing Communists in Justified

Taken from the March 1968 edition of the early American UC publication New Age Frontiers: Letter From David Flores Duc Pho, Vietnam

Dear Miss Kim,

Greetings to you and to all the Family in D. C. and area.

I send my love to you and pray for your further success in that area. I hope all is well and that those who live there are growing well.

As for me, I am in excellent health, though a little tired. For the past three days we have been wading through rice paddies and searching out small villages. Our area of operation is in and around Duc Pho, a small town about 350 miles northeast of Saigon.

The areas we have covered are very green (rice) and there are many gardens in the midst. At present I am sitting in a garden where squashes, onions, tomatoes, pumpkins, coconuts and eggplants and hot peppers are grown. Here and there are stalks of corn along with banana trees as well. We are flanked by green mountains to the west and north. There is a small river which runs by here and the whole area is just beautiful. I am really surprised.

Now, the main reason for my writing: Again, it is to request advice from you. As you know, I am no longer working as a clerk but as an infantryman. There was absolutely no way for me to avoid this assignment. Had I been more insistent in Germany about changing my MOS to clerk, I might have avoided this, but as it stands I will be combing rice paddies and carrying a gun for a year. Though we have had no actual encounters with VC, I don't expect that we can go a year without this. Already we have found many storage areas of excessive rice, black cloth, ammunition, etc. in our small area of operation.

My question is, what should my attitude about killing be? Regardless of how one looks at it, it is immoral and against God's law. Can I really proclaim God's message and carry a gun in my hand? Though some may think that we are defending our country and way of life, to include religion, I don't think murder is ever a part of God's plan. On the other hand since I am here, should I shoot back in self-defense or in defense of my comrades? To disobey an order to shoot could mean five years in prison or life imprisonment. Were this a declared war it would mean death. One fellow I know is already in jeopardy of this course of events because he believes it is against God's law to kill.

It is a farce for one to think he is defending his country. Our nation needs no defense against North Vietnam by means of this illegal, immoral and unjust war. Will God forgive me if I kill in self-defense? If not, then I might as well decide a course to take -- either prison or spiritual death. Please give me your thoughts on this matter.

I long to write and say more but time does not permit. I hope and pray that all is well with Family. Please give my greetings to Phil, Rebecca, Marty, and everyone else. Linna, Nora, Sylvia,

Once again I bid farewell and wait for your reply.

In His Name,

Dave.

Reply From Miss Kim (Excerpts) Young Oon Kim Washington, D. C.

Dear David,

I have been rather worried about you since the street fighting started in Saigon and major cities in Vietnam. I am very happy to hear from you and am thankful to know that you are okay. Thank you for your previous letter, which I shared with others, and we appreciated your report.

In both letters I see two major questions: One is, why do we not explain the Divine Principle differently from the textbook, to appeal to the people more broadly? You wonder why it must be so conservative and Biblical and Oriental. This is why many have asked in America and in Europe as well. Many working in America have tried to find a more broad method to appeal to the American populace.

I encountered the same problem many times, and I felt that I would like to change the terminology which seems to be distasteful to the ears of ordinary people. I often felt that we should not include the conclusion in our lecture, which again stumbles many people. I have been rather stubborn in maintaining the original text of the Principle, and because of this there has often been a strong feeling of rejection toward me.

I face this problem time and time again. In fact, our Leader himself is facing this problem. Divine Principle is as strange a language and concept to Orientals as it is to Americans. Certainly it is not a modern concept or language to them at all. Even though their thought is less sophisticated and their heart is less hardened by worldly things because they do not have physical amenities like the West, it is not easy for them to accept the Principle either.

There is less distraction in their search for God. Their hearts are hungry, their spirits thirsty for God and His care because there is little physical comfort to please them. But certainly the Divine Principle is not a readily acceptable message to them. Even though there are less material comforts, scientific knowledge and awareness of latest developments in all fields sweep the world through the mass media. There is no gap in their understanding of current discoveries and events, and therefore no cultural vacuum into which Divine Principle can slip easily. Besides journals and translations, many Orientals were educated in the West and receive scholarly publications and news magazines directly. If the Divine Principle is distasteful to the ears of urban Americans, it is just as distasteful to urban Koreans.

If we are to change the presentation of the Divine Principle to suit the American thinking, certainly it can’t fit the thinking of the Germans. If we modify it to fit German thought, it will be distasteful to the French mind. If it is pleasant to the French ears, it will be distasteful to the English ears. And the English presentation may not appeal to the Italians and Spanish. The Latin approach would not fit the Japanese. The Japanese method will not appeal to Hindu thought. The Hindu approach will antagonize the Moslems. The Moslem approach will be Greek to the Chinese.

Which method should we choose, then?

If the presentation of Principle is to be modified so that the scientist can agree, it will not be agreeable to the artist. If we are to modify it to appeal to artistic sensibility, philosophers will disagree. If we use the philosophical approach, pragmatic people like farmers and businessmen won’t understand. We cannot present the Principle to please the social scientist and psychologist without alienating the fundamentalists. If we please the fundamentalist, then liberally-minded people will be upset.

Toward whose viewpoint should we modify the Principle?

My thought traveled in these areas many, many times and I discussed this matter also with our Leader. Each time he insisted that we should use one textbook for every country and person, and standardize our teaching. Sometimes I feel I am torn between him and you all. But considering all these above-mentioned difficulties, I see why our Leader insists. Not only is a universally acceptable modification of the Principle impossible, but any attempt in this direction will be disastrous because the true content will be lost in the change. Therefore, I think our Leader is most wise to insist on one method.

Japanese people after World War II experienced a spiritual vacuum. Our members are, in the majority, born during or after the War. Divine Principle had meaning for them where Japanese religion had none. Therefore, the membership has increased in number somewhat abnormally there. Also, it is their national characteristic to follow absolutely once they accept a leader. They identify themselves wholly with the teaching and each one is dedicated and active. There are no members who didn’t take part in trash collection and street preaching. Even now a great number of them sell flowers, whether they are undergraduates or have master's degrees. Every day they sell flowers and preach on the street. Like the army, once it is decided, they perform without question. This is a unique national characteristic.

Their obedience to orders, cooperativeness, and sacrificial spirit are the main factors of their success. Do the Westerners have the same qualities in their national character? Westerners are so individualistic. They must rationalize every command and they always try to find the easy way instead of straight suffering. This kind of attitude may bring success in the Satanic world, but not in the heavenly world. It was not different presentation of the Principle but their attitude toward the movement that brought their growth in Japan.

Last year, when our Leader could not obtain the American visa, he decided to bless the Japanese members anyway, though he could not come to the western world.. The Japanese members refused to be blessed. He had chosen certain candidates, but they refused for this reason; The work in Japan has just started. If some married, the work would regress in the resulting check of progress. Can this attitude be found in the western world? I often hear the expression of desire for marriage when one is absolutely not ready in spirit and one has no concern about the progress of the whole movement, but just wants to be blessed in marriage. This is a most selfish attitude. But it is one I hear expressed.

Such people place the blame for the movement's not progressing fast enough either on me or on the Principle, without examining themselves.

Some members seem to think that it is an easy message for the Koreans to accept and therefore they were able to get many strong members. This is not true. It is just as difficult there as here to get strong members.

I have seen members who attempted to dilute the Principle and who lost spiritual power and gradually declined and dropped out, one by one. However, those who teach faithfully according to the textbook get successful results and spirit world works through them, not through those who are diluting. The depth of the Principle is not known to many people. Those who do not know the depth have no right to change the expression.

However, I have been encouraging members to use diverse, creative methods in contacting people and introducing them to the Principle. I encourage people to lecture each chapter straight, However, I also encourage them to bring all their knowledge and experience to bear on answering the questions which their students raise after the lecture. In this way we can standardize the lecture and give full explanation to insure understanding.

The concept and the feeling of God is so distant from the mind of modern people. Hence, to bring anything about God into their thinking cannot be easy. It is not just the Principle that is remote, but God Himself is also.

As I have said many times before, we are now building the foundation of the new America. If we make all effort to obtain great numbers of wishy-washy people without true understanding of the Principle, we can never build a firm foundation. God can never trust those people. Do you think this is the success of our movement? We are to establish an unwavering tradition and a precise, clear pattern of life for our posterity to follow unmistakenly so that things can be established.

When our vertical relationship with God and with our Leader is firmly established our movement should expand horizontally. Can this be done with half-baked people?

I will attempt to answer your second question. I am convinced that any ideology can be destroyed by a higher ideology, not by weapons. Here I feel great responsibility of expanding our movement and spreading this message as widely and quickly as possible. Communists will change their ideology only when they hear the Principle.

But when they use military force and threaten people in order to bring them to their side, the innocent people must be protected in some way and be allowed to live as they would like. Is this not the reason American soldiers are sent to Vietnam -- to check the Communist invasion and protect the free people? When military means are successful, the Communist invasion will be checked, just as Hitler's Nazism was checked by military force.

You said this war is not declared. Declared or undeclared -- this is a political matter. To check evil, whether it is declared or undeclared, the war has a just purpose. The sad aspect of this war is its great prolongation. Because of the guerrilla tactics the end cannot be brought quickly enough. Moreover, the Viet Cong conviction seems stronger than the conviction of Americans. For the Viet Cong it is an immediate, life-and-death matter. But for the American GI -- well, it is a fire next door -- no, across the street, We say, "a fire across the field" -- far in the distance.

All wars are tragedy. You have read about it, heard about it, but now you are facing it for the first time in your life. You are now placed in the midst of the most tragic scene of human life. Sitting in a comfortable room, I have no right to advise you on this matter.

In a sense, physical death is not an ultimately serious concern. To God’s eyes, the physical death is no more tragic than the spiritual deaths of innumerable people.

It is true that by dying physically the Vietnamese loses the chance to hear the Divine Principle, but how remote he was from that possibility anyway! Millions will be born and die without hearing it. The great mass of Chinese are under the Communist ideology. India is under false teaching and many there are starving. Even in America, is there not much tragedy? If we are in communication with the heart of God, our sorrow will be unbearable.

David, since you understand God's new dispensation, your life is precious to God because God can restore many lives through you. He would like to preserve your life at all costs. You must cooperate with the Father in the preservation of your life, not only for your sake, but for God's sake,

Killing anyone in battle cannot be compared to murder under any other circumstances. It will not bring the same effect on your spirit. If I hate someone and kill him, it is my evil will and desire to kill that particular person. But if two nations are in battle, no one kills from personal malice, but from the will of the commander, whether it is a nation or an ideology.

If you are confronted by an enemy and preserve his life, if he then immediately turns to good, then it is good to save him. But, supposing you preserve his life and then he ungratefully kills numerous people on your side. What is gained? You must transcend your personal feeling and avoid thinking in terms of person-to-person, or you will suffer from constant inner conflict and even risk your own life by your indecisiveness.

You must pray -- and I will pray for you -- not to encounter a difficult situation. Commit your life completely to the hands of the Father and be close to Him. I only pray that you will avoid all danger under His protection. All of us in our Family here remember you in our prayers.

Our door-to-door witnessing every Sunday afternoon is quite encouraging. In December and January we received some forty new members throughout America.

Keep in touch with us, even with short letters and cards. We just want to know you're alive. I just hope that this war will quickly end. I send my prayer and love to you.

POSTSCRIPT:

As the New Age Frontiers, was about to be printed, Washington Center received letters from David which we would like to share with all the Family:

Beloved Family,

Excuse this rushed and somewhat ragged note, but in the midst of the chaotic situation in which I find myself, I can do no more. Please, for all of you who have written me, accept this as an answer to all your letters. I will try to write you individually if I have time. I give thanks to our Father and praise Him for this opportunity to serve Him here in Vietnam. I am proud that He chose me for this mission but pray that His humility will be in me as I work for His kingdom here.

Let me first inform all of you of what I am doing -- just briefly. I've been assigned to an infantry unit which, as you might have guessed, is utilized completely for search-and-destroy missions. We are operating in the area of Duc Pho, which is about 150 miles south of Da Nang. I am presently being utilized as a rifleman. We comb rice paddies, mountains, and villages -and whatever else comes in our way as we search for "Charlie." The unit is relatively new in Vietnam, having arrived in December. This area is reasonably safe though we have encountered Viet Cong at least three times since my arrival.

Mainly we just spend a lot of time searching, which means walking, and walking, and more walking. Generally we go out for a week at a time carrying rations for three days, our bedding, water, and about 240 rounds of ammo each. On the average we carry about 40 pounds on our backs. It isn't bad but when you walk about 14 miles per day with this weight your feet really ache -- and, oh, your back! We've been out for eight days now and last night we climbed a mountain which was so high it took us two and a half hours, upstream. Other than that, our work is the same routine. We go into base camp maybe once a month, so you can see we haven't much time to write, except at times like now when a squad pulls perimeter security.

Now, as the Father's work goes here, I haven't had a great deal of time to do anything but pray. And so I've asked the Father to accept all this as indemnity. I don't know yet what my ultimate purpose must be here, but I am certain that my Father can use this to His advantage.

In the infantry, the morale and spirit of the men varies quite widely. I find that only the thinking people are still the ones who seek spiritual understanding. Too many of the men are very narrow-minded and cannot comprehend thoughts beyond themselves -- very selfish and ignorant. I say ignorant because they don't realize what life beyond self would be. There are men, however, who think somewhat in universal terms.

While in Chu Lai I spoke with two fellows who were really interested in Divine Principle. One even told me he believed that the original sin was the "sin of origin,” sex. Another fellow is facing court martial because he will not shoot the war is immoral, illegal, and unjust. Three fellows here already have asked me today what I believe and what our church teaches. I just gave them a short introduction since they were playing pinochle. The pinochle players are the thinkers. (I'm learning to play the game!)

The [New Age Frontiers] serves as a point of conversation. Everyone is curious what it is. I feel more and better opportunities for witness will come up. With your prayers and Father 's energy, I will be an adequate channel here for Him.

Your many letters have served to push me onward and the [New Age Frontiers] has encouraged me more. And I am proud that I am a part of Unified Family and that so wonderful a family is mine. Only the love of the Father led me to you and it is such that will maintain me, I feel, as St. Paul expresses -- that trial and tribulation make me more steadfast and nothing will separate me from the love of the Father. Brothers and sisters, continue the fight, support your leaders and praise the Father for this great truth.

In an earlier letter, David wrote:

I flew out of Oakland 13 January and arrived RVN 15 January. I arrived first at Long Binh and then went to Chu Lai. While at Chu Lai, we came under mortar fire and rocket attack -- one ammo dump destroyed, six jets demolished. No personnel at our camp were killed, and only three injured. More damage was done to hooches and tents. I also received six~day RVN training while there. Unfortunately, I've been assigned as an infantryman to this unit. I've been out humping hills and rice paddies for about two weeks now. (February 16.) My platoon is nice. I'm not sure where to start witnessing. A great deal of the men seem too dense to even care about the world situation, which is ironical since they are here. The intelligent ones aren't necessarily the best choice either. I'll just have to "hunt and peck" for a while. I look forward to the day when all men will seek spiritual values and not materialistic.

Our hearts are with you, David!

[from-beyond]

literally didn’t do a single thing I intended to do today <3 and the clock keeps on moving!!!!!

[lokis-little-fawn]

Paging Doctor Laufeyson

My requests are open! Message/comment to be added to the tag list!

Read Part Two Here

Paring: Dark!Therapist!Loki x Fem!Reader

Word count: 4k

Summary: Your therapist Doctor Laufeyson had always been easy on the eye but sternly professional. Will he help you discover your darkest desires?

Warnings: SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU ARE 18+) non con, unprotected sex, male masturbation, dark af Loki, abuse of authority

Inspired by the amazing fic written by @yagurlrosie which you can read here!

“I don’t know Doctor Laufeyson, I’ve been with him for five years and it feels like the spark we had is gone” you say, well aware that the end of your session is looming. You’d been visiting Doctor Loki Laufeyson for the last few months, your life had become overwhelming and your romantic relationship had been waining for some time.

“You say the spark is gone, can you elaborate?” He questions, a fountain pen held between his dexterous fingers and a open black notebook placed in his lap.

“We don’t do anything exciting anymore, every day is the same and.. um.. I’m also bored in the bedroom department” you say, the last part of your sentence being muttered off quietly. Doctor Laufeyson’s free hand now placed in a fist placed just under his nose while looking at you intensely, his first covering his thin beautiful lips as he waits for you to continue.

“It’s just so bland, I’d love him to try something different, anything different. I want to feel desired and sexy and empowered. I just want more” you say, feeling more and more guilty as the words slip from your mouth, your face flushed slightly, Doctor Laufeyson writing a few notes in his book.

“Thank you for opening up about that Y/N, I know that must have been difficult” he replies, just as a gentle toned alarm goes off.

“Ah, that must be our time. I’ll see you the same time next week Miss Y/L/N” he states as you collect your things and say your goodbyes. Doctor Laufeyson walks you safely from his home office and to the separate front door that is only used for clients, making your way through it you get into your car and make your way home.

A few days later you’ve been preparing for a party, you and your best friend have been planning it for a while. You hadn’t really had a birthday party since you were a child and because of this, you were going all out. You’d spend the afternoon getting ready together and just before guests were about to arrive you both realised that although you had brought a lot of alcohol, you definitely hadn’t brought enough. You’d already had a few drinks by the time you decided you needed to go out and buy more.

Leaving your fully decorated flat that you shared with your partner, you both strut down the street as if the world was your runway. You’d both dressed up to the absolute nines, all eyes were on you and you drank in the moment. You knew that this feeling was mostly because you were together, you always had the most fun with your best friend and it was as if your excited energy bounced off each other. You wore a tightly fitted, pastel pink draped dress that had rhinestone details on the thin straps, this pared with some light pink heels. Your hair curled in a vintage style and your makeup done immaculately. Your best friend wore almost the same outfit only shorter and black, her hair pulled up in a slick stylish ponytail.

“Okay so we need more snacks, ice and most importantly more vodka” she says reading from the list she’d written on her phone as she grabbed a trolley. Entering the supermarket you felt very overdressed even though you had gone to one of the fancier options in town.

“I’ll get the snacks and ice, you grab the drinks?” She asks, you nod in reply as you make your way down one of the well lit isles. Grabbing two bottles of Grey Goose you make your way back down to find your friend, looking down at your feet making sure you didn’t trip in your heels you accidentally collide with a tall well dressed man.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry!” You say immediately as you step away from him before you’ve even looked up, his arm immediately darting out to catch your hand before you can fall.

“Your apology is unnecessary Miss Y/L/N” you hear the deep familiar voice say as you steady yourself, your other hand wrapped around his strong arm.

“Mr Laufeyson, what a coincidence!” You say with a bold smile. You feel his gaze travel down your body before snapping back up to meet your face.

“It’s my birthday, I’m just grabbing a few things before people arrive” you continue as you let go of his arm. He looks as he does in your usual sessions, the dark suit he always wears is usually complimented by a jacket. But now the jacket is draped carefully over the handlebars of his food filled trolly, his shirt fitting perfectly, outlining his immaculate physique and bulging pectorals.

“Well that explains your beautiful appearance Miss Y/L/N” he says stepping towards you with an almost lust filled tone before he steps back and readjusts himself. His face immediately spread with worry, knowing he has overstepped his professional boundaries although still certain that he meant what he said. Your face lighting up at his words, a smile spread across your flushed cheeks. Just as he goes to speak again he is interrupted by your intruding best friend.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! I’ve got everything on the list, you ready to go?” She asks, your eye contact with the stunning doctor uninterrupted.

“Who’s this?” She asks, scanning him up and down, a cheeky undertone to her voice.

“This is Doctor Laufeyson, my therapist I’ve told you about, Doctor this is my best friend Y/B/F’s/N” you reply introducing them.

“It was great to see you Doctor Laufeyson, we should really get going” you say blushing as you shuffle on your feet preparing to walk on your pointed shoes.

“A pleasure as always Miss Y/L/N” he says politely as you smile and begin to walk away.

“Enjoy your meat, I know I would!” Your friend says to him and winks provocatively, pointing to something in his cart, as you slap her on the arm gently.

“That’s just disrespectful, you don’t even know the man!” You say a few meters away from him, you hear his dark chuckle behind you as you walk away.

Doctor Laufeyson continued his day as usual, his mind filled with thoughts of his encounter with you. He had tried to push the thoughts down a few times knowing that it was wrong to be thinking so deeply into your meeting, but it was of no use. By the end of the night he had been consistently thinking of you for the majority of his day as he sat at his wooden desk in his office, reading through your typed up notes from your last session. Pouring himself a large helping of red wine into an elegant crystal glass he takes a sip, his mind replaying watching you walk away. Your form fitting dress clinging to every curve, your nipples hardening in the cool air of the supermarket while you talked to him, almost visible through the thin fabric of your dress.

His imagination running away from him as he starts to envision you coming to his office dressed like that or better yet, naked. He pictures fucking you over his desk, for-filling your every kinky craving, making you feel sexy and desired just as you wished.

In the dimly lit office, as his fantasy drowned out any ill feeling he previously had he feels himself hardening within the constraints of his suit trousers, the sensation only fanning the flames of his desire for you. Palming himself through the dark fabric of his trousers he can already feel a wet patch forming, his pre cum seeping through the expensive fabric.

His wandering hands hastily unclasping the buttons of his trousers he pulls his length free from its constraints, quickly springing free and leaving a trail of liquid on his now untucked shirt. Once free his hand works it’s way down his thick shaft, his thumb rolls over the tip spreading his pre cum over the head of his cock.

Sliding his hand down again his heart rate increases as a stifled moan escapes his lips, his eyes scanning the page in front of him picking out words you’d previously said that fuel his fantasy. His free hand gripping down on his thigh imagining you placed on your knees under his desk, your mouth wrapped around his length as he thrusts into your throat.

The noises he imagines you making flooding his head, the moans you’d try and hold in as he slips his length inside you for the first time, the way your tight entrance would grip down on him. His pace increasing on his length he feels his climax building, his free hand now gripping around his balls harshly trying to prolong the inevitable. Picturing your climax pushes him over the edge, his pleasure flooding over him as his hot liquid spills from his tip. His grunts echoing off the walls of his office as he orgasms, the hot ropes of cum coating his chest, mostly settling on the black tie he still wears around his neck.

After cleaning himself up he gulps down the last of his wine and makes his way to bed. He had expected to feel worry, guilt even, but now he still felt nothing but desire. The want to please you, to feel your breath on his neck as he fucks you. As he falls asleep his mind is still filled with thoughts of you, playing over his next move as he slips into slumber.

The remainder of the week dragged by slowly for both of you. Your party was amazing but you had spent most of your week thinking about the way he had called you ‘beautiful’, the way he looked in his shirt and the way his strong hand gripped around your wrist. Loki had also thought about you as a client and otherwise. Almost every night since your encounter he had rehearsed what he’d say to you in his head, he was absolutely certain of what he wanted and he knew he was about to break the golden rule, never ever sleep with a client.

As Wednesday rolled around you made your way to his office, you were happily his last client of the day.

“Miss Y/L/N, welcome” he says as he gestures for you to come inside, you hang your coat up on the coat rack and place your bag on the floor next to your chair. Today you had decided on wearing something that vaguely matched the dress you’d worn on your last encounter with him, a much more casual fitted dress and heeled boots.

“So, how was your week?” He asks formally as he sits in his chair, grabbing his fountain pen and notebook as usual.

“It was fine, my party went well. I’m sorry if I overstepped the last time I saw you Doctor Laufeyson, I didn’t mean to” you say shyly as you blush, heat flooding your cheeks.

“Please, call me Loki. And do not worry yourself, I’m merely concerned about you. Tell me, did you reignite the spark between you and your partner?” He asks as his fist returns to his upper lip as always, serious as ever. You feel your blush growing at his asking for you to use his first name.

“No, if anything it’s been worse. Ive been thinking about what I want and.. this isn’t it” you say, your vulnerability overwhelms you as you feel tears begin to pool in your eyes.

“And what is it that you want?” He asks, his long legs spread open, his note book resting on one thigh as he readjusts himself in his chair.

“Uhm, I.. I don’t know..” your mind suddenly flustered, you knew exactly what you wanted right up until the moment you walked into his office. Now all you feel is uneasy, his piercing blue gaze roaming over your body without a hint of concealment as you shift uncomfortably in your place.

“Would you like to explore that further with me Y/N? To discover what it is that you truly desire?” He asks, his words laced with a tone you can’t quite place, but whatever it is it’s something you’d never heard from him before.

“Uh, yes. I think so” Your reply sounding almost like a question rather than a certain statement.

“Then come here, let me help you” he says as his large hand pats his thigh, a sign for you to come and sit with him. His request is much more of a demand as his previously blue eyes are now blown almost entirely black with lust.

You walk tentatively over to him, the short distance between you feeling like a mile as you will your feet to carry you. As you reach him you slowly sit yourself down in his lap, perched on one of his thighs, your legs pressed tightly together as they hang over his. With one large hand be snaps his notebook closed causing you to jump, placing the notebook and pen onto the floor beside his chair. As soon as his hands are free’d he snakes one arm around your waist, pulling you in closer. Your side now pressed firmly against his chest your hands reach out to steady yourself on his chest, your knee now almost touching the inside of his upper thigh as you feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Be a good girl and undo my tie for me wouldn’t you?” He asks as his other hand gathers your fitted skirt, his fingers grazing up your inner thigh softly.

“Uhm.. D..Doctor Laufeyson.. I’m not so sure about this..” you say, every request he makes making you feel more uneasy by the second.

“Don’t you trust me darling? I am a trained professional after all, I’m only doing what I think is best for you. I assure you” the seriousness now returned to his voice, his movement stilling for a second waiting for you to either comply or run. The uneasy feeling you previously felt now seeping into him as he is once again reminded of the professional nature of your relationship and the boundaries he is swiftly breaking.

This thought crosses his mind for only a moment as you reach up and begin to loosen his tie before pulling it from around his neck. You hold the tie up to him waiting for another command.

“Drop it, now undo my shirt” he demands, his voice still serious as his fingers once again begin to move up your thigh.

Your uncertain hands undo the buttons on his shirt, each one popping open to reveal more of his toned chest. You can feel your wetness gathering as his fingers move, every strategic movement accumulating in your rapidly growing arousal.

“Good girl, now kiss me” he growls, his hand on around your waist travelling up to the back of your neck, gripping you and holding you in place. You realise that every move he has you making, although instructed by him, has ultimately been your decision. In his position of power over you, you know that he is taking advantage of your vulnerability, but god does it feel good to surrender your control to him.

You lean in to kiss him, placing a light peck onto his lips, the grip on your neck tightens as he pulls you down further to him. Within seconds his lips are on yours, his tongue exploring your mouth, desperate for you almost as if he’d never been touched. His free hand leaving your thigh now darting to your chest, diving under the soft fabric of your dress as he grasps your breast. His thumb flicking over your rapidly hardening bud, he moans into your kiss. His sound vibrating through your core, you can almost feel your sensitive nub between your legs throb for attention.

Both of your moans now echoing around the room he pulls your dress over your head, the fabric hitting the floor as he drops it. His eyes taking in your semi nude form for the first time his fingers digging into your sensitive skin as his mind runs away with all of the sinful things he wishes to do to you.

Without direction your hands travel down the length of his torso to the belt around his waist, his eyes darting back to your face as a wicked smile spreads across his lips. Unbuckling the belt you make quick work of the buttons on his trousers, quickly pushing your hand underneath the fabric of his waistband as his length springs free into your grip.

“What a quick leaner you are little one” he growls villainously. In his mind he imagined taking you for hours, teasing you with his cock in your mouth, but now in the moment he wants nothing more than to sheath himself inside of your wet velvet walls.

Pushing the crotch your panties to the side he lifts you to straddle him, your face pressed against his in a never ending kiss as he runs his cock through your sensitive folds.

“Your so wet for me, is this what you wanted all this time sweet thing? For your Doctor to fix you by fucking you?” He asks, the words coming out as more of a statement of his feelings rather than a confirmation of your own. Never the less he is right, you’ve fantasised about this all week and now as you nod in reply you can only pray he keeps touching you.

With another villainous smile he thrusts himself up inside of you, quickly starting to move giving you no time to adjust to the intrusion. Your hands now placed on his shoulders you almost scream into his kiss as your nails dig into his skin, the sensation of being speared on his cock overwhelming you.

You slowly begin to move with him, riding his length on top of him, your mutual moans vibrating through you bodies as if electricity ran rampant through your veins. Your clit rubbing against his lower abdomen as you grind yourself down onto him. His grip on your hips tightening as you feel your walls begin to grip him at the first flutter of your growing orgasm.

With this Loki lifts you both from the chair and places you onto his desk, his length still buried inside of you. Placing you down his arm swipes away most of the contents of the desk, the few remaining items rocking as he thrusts into you.

Your orgasm quickly building teetering on the edge of ecstasy as he moves within you, he can feel your walls gripping him tightly.

“Cum for me sweet thing, cum on my cock” he demands as his hand leaves your hip and begins to circle your throbbing bud. With minimal effort your orgasm is pulled from you, the feeling washing over your body as you cry out his name, desperate for any shred of affection he is willing to give you. His lips meet yours once again as you ride out the after shocks of your climax on his length, now over sensitive each movement is amplified, your wetness squelching with every thrust.

His pace quickly increases, determined to ride out his own high within you as he had fantasised.

“Fuck, you feel extraordinary wrapped around me sweet thing, you have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed of this. It’s so much better when it’s real” he grunts into your ear, chanting the last line as if it were a prayer. The thought of him fantasising about you filling you with both arousal and terror. How long had he been thinking of you like this? Had it impacted how he treated you before? You had so many questions circling in your mind but right now they were all background noise as you felt your second climax building in his frenzied assault on your heat.

His thrusts grow sloppier and more desperate, you feel his length twitching inside you desperate for release as he once again begins to circle your clit.

“I’m going to cum inside you little one, you feel too good to pull out” he growls as you feel yourself tighten around him again, your pulsating walls drawing him in further.

With a final frenzied thrust he cums within you, coating your walls with his liquid. The feeling draws your second climax from you, orgasming together as he rides out the last of his high within you, making sure every last drop of his seed is planted firmly within you.

After regaining your breaths for a while he pulls you into his chair, placing you on top of him.

“So, was that what you wanted pet?” He asks once more, he promised he’d help you work out whatever you desired and with that promise he absolutely delivered.

“I think that was exactly what I wanted Doctor Laufeyson” you say kissing him softly on the cheek.

“Please darling, call me Loki” he requests again, making you feel at home in his arms as his hand traces down your spine.

“Thank you.. Loki” you reply sweetly.

“Now let’s get you cleaned up darling” he says as he carries you off through the door you’d never entered, into his private home. He ran you a bath and brushed the knots from your hair making you feel surprisingly relaxed considering you’d just fucked your therapist. As the night went on you curled up in his bed falling asleep in his arms, uncertain of how long this would last for but certain of one thing, you definitely knew what you wanted now.

-Alternate ending-

“I think that was exactly what I wanted Doctor Laufeyson” you say kissing him softly on the cheek.

“Do you think we could try roll play again? Maybe next time I can play Doctor and you can be the patient?” You question your lover, your playful tone making you giggle into your kiss.

“Whatever you want darling, you know I’d do anything for you, even create this illusion of a Midgardian office that you love so much” he replies jokingly, gesturing to your surroundings.

“Shut up, I saw it in a film and I always wanted to fuck a doctor.. but I had to end up with a god apparently, I guess I’ll just have to settle for what I’m given” you reply in a playful tone as his hand traces down your spine.

“Thank you.. Loki” you reply sweetly.

“Now let’s get you cleaned up darling” he says as he carries you off through the door Into his familiar chambers. He ran you a bath and brushed the knots from your hair making you feel surprisingly relaxed considering all the things he’d so recently done to your body. As the night went on you curled up in bed falling asleep in his arms, the world drowned out around you as you fade away, your head pressed into his chest with promises of next time whispered into your ear.

Tag list: @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @vbecker10 @virtualstrawberrydinosaur @lokiprompts @cryingismyonlyhobby

[tennessoui]

I feel like this is a big ask, but 1. welcome back! 2. can you ever see KUWSK going angsty? Not permanently or anything, but what would a KUWSK obikin disagreement look like?

yes thank you for welcoming me back a month and a half ago i'm a bit trash to be so late on this but!! here is about 2k of a more serious fight between anakin and obi-wan.

(2k)

“You’re talking to your ex,” Anakin says. It’s the tone of voice he uses on work calls when he’s absolutely furious but trying to remain professional. Obi-Wan has never heard it directed at him before. He almost doesn’t recognize it. 

“Casually,” he stresses. “We’re…casually speaking.”

“Casually,” Anakin echoes in that same voice. Obi-Wan is starting to think he’s done something incredibly wrong. 

“She messaged me,” he stresses, feeling as if this is an important fact. “I didn’t reach out to her.”

“But you reached back!” Anakin says loudly, putting the spoon on its rest a touch too forcefully. “And then you didn’t even tell me!”

“I thought it was a non-issue!” Obi-Wan protests. “I don’t tell you when I talk to the woman at the supermarket checkout line!”

“Keep Francesca out of this,” Anakin cuts through the air with the side of his hand as he spins around to open their spice cabinet. “You know full well that’s different.”

“She flirts with me at the store, and you’re fine with it!” Obi-Wan quite completely feels like tearing out his hair. He can’t believe they’re having this conversation. He can’t believe his own fortune, that he’d pulled up a picture mid-playful argument with Anakin over what the twins had dressed as for Halloween when they were five, and he’d shown it to his partner at the exact moment that Satine ex-Kenobi had texted him, replying to something he'd sent a week ago.

That had pretty much ended the playful part of their argument.

“Yeah, and it’s not the fucking same, Obi-Wan,” Anakin responds, shaking a bit of salt aggressively into the stew. “You were never fucking married to fucking Francesca.”

“Anakin—”

“And by the way,” Anakin snaps, trading the salt for cayenne pepper and seasoning it liberally. “Implying that your ex-wife is also flirting with you over texts you did not tell me about is not the best strategy, Professor.”

The worst part is that he’s not even looking at him anymore, scowling instead into the contents of the heavy pot.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan tries, because he’s not listening, he’s just reacting. Of course Obi-Wan knows Francesca and Satine aren’t really the same thing, but they mean the same thing to him. One slips him free red bell peppers sometimes by ringing them up as green ones with a wink and a quirk of her lips. The other is his ex-wife.

But neither of them is Anakin, and so they mean the same thing to him. He doesn’t love them. He can’t even pay them the slightest modicum of his attention, because he’s too wrapped up in and around and going crazy over this man who’s petty enough to have absolutely just ruined Obi-Wan’s dinner on purpose by adding too much spice to the stew Obi-Wan had requested.

“Anakin, I think we need to take a step back from this,” he finally gets out when his partner is distracted by opening and closing the cabinet doors, ostensibly looking for the bowls even though he’d been the one to reorganize the dishes in the first place, years ago, and he’s never not known where something is.

“I think I’m going to sleep in my room tonight,” Anakin replies in an icy voice. “I think you might be right.”

“What? Darling, no—Anakin, love, it’s—casual cannot even come close to describing the texts, you can read them if you want, there’s nothing there—“

“Daddy? Obi?” Luke asks from the kitchen doorway. He’s peering around it, little face looking horrified. Obi-Wan freezes. How loud had they been? Luke and Leia are seven now, they remember these things, they have questions—“Is dinner ready? Obi?”

Leia’s face joins the same pale ghost of her brother’s, and Obi-Wan feels awful. Absolutely terrible, but the sort of terrible he doesn’t know what to do with. The twins heard them arguing, they were practically shouting at each other, Anakin is planning to sleep in a different room, Anakin didn’t even call it a guest room, he called it his room even though they’ve been together for—for a year and a bit now—and isn’t that devastating? My room, Anakin had said. Does he not understand everything Obi-Wan owns is his as well? Does he…does he not want it?

“Almost,” Anakin replies. He sounds so forcefully happy that it’s manic. It comes across much too fake, and Obi-Wan can feel the way Luke immediately distrusts the word, the expression. “I just realized I forgot something at the store though! We need bread! We can’t have the stew without bread.” 

Anakin nods once to himself as he says this, shooting Obi-Wan a very quick glance before his eyes snag on the phone on the counter between them and he looks away as if incredibly pained, hands ghosting down to the pockets of his jeans to check for his keys.

Obi-Wan thinks it would really actually kill a part of him to watch Anakin drive away on his bike right now. Not to mention the twins.

Oh, the twins. 

This had been why they were so hesitant in the first place, to bite the bullet, to kiss and mean it and remember it and lean in again. Their relationship affects the twins, and as much as Obi-Wan loves Anakin, he’d been so worried about even accidentally causing the kids distress. 

He thinks seeing their father leave when they can tell something is wrong would be devastating.

“I’ll go,” Obi-Wan says, putting a hand flat on the counter, pocketing the phone, and fighting the urge to glare at Anakin because the other man should know—should think—but this Anakin is almost a stranger to him, all clenched jaw and shaking hands and it’s just a text—it sort of makes him mad as well, angry that it hurts so much, that Anakin doesn’t trust him. They’ve known each other going on three years, their entire lives were intertwined almost immediately. “Give me the keys.”

“Yeah, right,” Anakin scoffs, shoulders tense and unyielding. “To the bike?”

“No, dumb—” he cuts himself off because he’s too old to be namecalling, especially around little ears. “The keys to the car are behind you. On their hook. Can you hand them to me?”  He doesn’t think he should get within a few feet of Anakin right now. Not for fear of violence–either from him or from his partner—but because it just—it doesn’t seem like a good idea. Not when they need bread.

“Should I leave my phone?” He can’t help but ask acidly. 

“I don’t know,” Anakin shoots back with deadly accuracy, slinging the keys across the countertop hard enough that they spin out of control and Obi-Wan has to stoop to catch them “Should you?”

Obi-Wan turns and gets to the mouth of the kitchen without another word. He debates his actions, his emotions, for a second’s pause before he puts his phone on the countertop and sweeps out into the entryway and then just as quickly out of the house all together.

He can’t go far. The Skywalkers have made him incapable of it. He’ll go to the store. He’ll get Anakin his fucking bread, which really means he’ll give Anakin space to think, and he’ll take his own space to think, and then he’ll come back because it’s Anakin, it’s Anakin and it’s his family, and he thinks this is the stupidest fight in the entire goddamn world because doesn’t Anakin know how much he can’t love anyone else? Doesn’t he know that if Satine were to turn up on his doorstep tomorrow and ask for him to unsign the divorce papers, he wouldn’t even consider it?

Doesn’t he know—

“Obi?” Leia’s voice says at the same time there’s a hesitant tug on the edge of his shirt. He turns around and looks down at the girl. “Where are you going, Obi?”

“Your father wants bread for dinner,” he tells her. “So I’m going out to get bread. For dinner.”

“Oh,” Leia bites her lip before looking back behind her at the open door of the house. “Luke wants to know if you’re gonna come back, Obi.”

Since she turned seven, Leia has had trouble admitting when she wants to know something. She finds it so much easier to pretend she’s her brother’s spokesperson. “Daddy, Luke wants to know if the dog dies in the movie.” “Obi, Luke wants to know if we have to go to the barbecue, only cause Johnny is going to be there, and Luke really doesn’t like him.”

“Leia love,” Obi-Wan crouches down to look at her completely. “Of course I’m coming back. We need bread, darling.”

“I don’t want bread,” she snaps, sounding suddenly so very much like her father. “I want you.”

“Leia,” Obi-Wan pauses, smoothing his hand over the top of her hair carefully. He needs to soothe her, because he and Anakin had been so out of line earlier, fighting where the children could hear and now look what it’s done to them.

“Obi,” Luke trots out of the house before he can figure out what to say to her. “Obi, you should take this,” he holds something up and presses it into unresisting hands. “If daddy needs to keep your phone, you can have mine. Just in case you wanna talk to us while you’re gone.”

It’s the plastic, bulky flip phone that’d come in a kit of kid’s toys a Christmas ago. Smiley faces instead of buttons, but it made sounds when you hit it. Luke had been obsessed with it from the beginning.

Obi-Wan looks down at the phone and feels the very absurd urge to cry. “Loves,” he whispers, pulling Leia into his side. “Oh—”

He remembers thinking once when he’d just been given the Skywalkers, that first time he’d been asked to sit beside Luke’s bed until he fell asleep, that for children, love was about staying.

How can he possibly leave them now? When he loves them so much as well? When his love never grew out of that child’s wish for someone to stroke his hair as he dozed?

“Oh, alright, Luke, Leia,” he says, standing with only a bit of a wince because he’s getting so very old and Leia has thrown her arms around his neck unexpectedly so he rises with the weight of a child attached to him. “If your daddy wants bread, then let’s get him bread.”

“Road trip?” Leia asks with excitement.

“Better,” Obi-Wan promises, letting Luke grab onto his hand. “Science experiment.”