#noone else cares maybe since he only showed up once but TO ME this fucking hurted :')

[sketchysspace]

Aye does anyone else remember the Sun that Old Moon saved from being scrapped?

We probably lost him to the multidimensional collapse, too :')

[agirlwithbigdreamsforher]

THE PLANNING

THE NANNY: ONE SHOT

THE PLANNING

Pairing: Andy Barber x Annie Johnson (OFC)

Summary: The wedding is coming soon and Andy doesn’t seem very interested in the planning of the event.

Warnings: NONE. Some cursing words, that’s it.

A/N:  none.

Word count: 2008

Disclaimer: I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, used, translated nor reposted anywhere else but here on this blog. Do not steal what you didn’t work for. Minors and ageless blank blogs don’t interact with me or my works. Reblogs and likes are always welcome. Thank you for reading this work of fiction.

GIF’s not mine, you can find the credits in it:) 

                                     ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

“Now what was his excuse?” Sharon said as she walked into de restaurant of the Hotel were the wedding was going to take place.

“Ammm, he is just busy.”

“Right,” Sharon rolled her eyes, “Just because he is a lawyer doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be helping you with the wedding. He is getting married too!”

That was this morning and now Annie was sitting in the dining room after dinner surrounded by a bunch of magazines, folders, ring binders, pictures, color samples, while Andy was scrolling through his phone.

“So, I was thinking maybe everything inside should be silver with light blue or maybe lilac.”

“Sure, honey.”

“And for the center pieces maybe we could use peonies.”

“Yeah, those are good.”

Annie lifted her gaze to see Andy was not paying attention at all.

“And then we could hire a clown to marry us.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Yeah?” Andy nodded, “and I would only wear a red thong and no bra for our wedding and we will have Chinese for the guest.”

“You always have the best ideas, honey!

“How about if I made Laurie my maid of honor?”

“It’s an excellent idea.”

Annie grabbed one of the many binders she had on the table and slammed it hard making Andy to jump, his phone falling from his grip.

“What’s wrong?!”

“You are not paying attention to me!”

“Yes, I am.”

“Really? Repeat something I said?”

“Ammm well, you said, you wanted to have a band for the wedding?”

“I wasn’t even talking about music!!!!!! Andy the wedding is coming, I’m so stressed out and you are not helping me!”

“Honey, it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big…fine! We are not getting married.”

“What?!”

“We will cancel the whole thing!”

“Why?!”

“You just said it, it’s not a big deal, so there will be no wedding!”

“Honey, that’s not what I meant!”

“Then, what is it?!”

“Well, I’ve already got married once.”

“You don’t care.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t need to say it! You are not paying attention to me. This is important to me. I want our wedding to be perfect, I am marrying the man of my fucking dreams and you don’t care!”

“Honey,” Andy walked towards her and she took a step back and crossed her arms.

“No, I don’t wanna see you or talk to you right now. Excuse me.”

Andy saw Annie go upstairs, and then turned to see everything that was on the table. He sat down and took one of the binders. There were many pictures and all of them had little notes with Annie’s handwriting. No lemon cake, Andy hates it. Blue is Andy’s favorite color.  He saw a picture of some empty chairs with the pictures of love one who had passed away. Find a picture of Andy’s mom. Another one: Song for the first dance: ____________.  The line was empty, she hasn’t really thought in a song for them to dance.

He then took a yellow post-it: Cake taste appointment: Friday, at noon.

Yes, he got married once, but since Laurie and he were just out of college and expecting they only went to the town hall and did it. No ceremony, no party, no nothing.

Andy walked up the stairs and to their room. Annie was watching T.V, she didn’t seem angry.

“Honey?” no answer, “May I come in?”

“It’s your room too.”

“I do care.”

“No, you don’t, it’s fine. Don’t worry. I’ll do it, you just need to show up. That’s it if you don’t forget it.”

“I don’t forget things.”

“We had an appointment today to see the menu and you didn’t show up.” Andy remained silent, he didn’t know they had that appointment. “The food was good. I chose beef. I was told by the catering people most people choose chicken, but I know you like beef better.”

“You never told me we had to see that.”

“Yes, I did. I told you 3 times.” Andy was confused as hell, he couldn’t remember her saying anything about that.

“I’m sorry, I forgot.” Annie nodded and turned her gaze to the T.V. “I’m sorry you had to go by yourself.”

“I wasn’t alone. Sharon went with me.”

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Look, I’m not interested in your apologies. Just let me know if you wanna continue with the wedding or not. We still have time to cancel. I’m going to shower.”

Andy was left alone in the dimmed room, Annie was disappointed and that hurt him more than when she was angry or sad.

Andy took his phone and texted Sharon.

A: “Hi, so I have a question, and be honest with me.”

S: “Sure! What’s up?”

A: “How many wedding appointments have I missed?”

S: “Oh my god! You can’t be serious!”

A: “I am! Answer the damn question!”

S: “5, the appointment to choose a wedding planner, by the way she doesn’t have one, she’s doing everything on her own.  The appointment to choose the venue, the appointment for the flower arrangements, the appointment for the music and today was time to choose the menu.”

Andy look at the phone, he had fucked up big time.

S: “Oh! And she went to see some suits for Jake. No offense but Jake is your kid, even though she loves him as his own.”

A: “Thanks for the input.”  

He looked at the bathroom closed door, the water was still running. He went back downstairs and sat where Annie was before. He took a deep breath and grabbed one of the magazines.

He went through a few pages of the magazine when he saw another post-it: Still no dress. Better hurry.  And another one said:  Still waiting for a spot with Melissa Benedict.

“Who is Melissa Benedict?!” Andy ran his hand through his face. “I better make coffee.”

------------------------------------------------------- (     ) ----------------------------------------------------------Annie was walking towards the bakery for the cake taste. Andy wasn’t home when she woke up, and hasn’t texted her or called her. The bakery was full with people, another appointment without Andy. She let out a sigh, holding back her tears and walked into the bakery.

“Miss Johnson!” The teenager behind the counter smiled at her, “We are ready with your samples. If you follow me, please. This way.”

Andy was running down the street, he couldn’t be late, he couldn’t not show up. He pushed the door open and everyone turned to see him.

“Good day, sir. May I help you?”

“Yes, I’m the groom.”

The girl laughed a bit, “I’m sorry, but whose groom?”

“Annie’s.”

“Oh! You’re looking for Miss Johnson! Right, this way.”

Andy went through the door and to the back of the bakery, Annie was standing next to a woman as they looked to some pictures.

“I’ll bring the samples. Have a sit.”

“Hi, honey.”

“Andy?” He was standing there, his cheeks were a bit flushed and his tie was misplaced.

“Am I late?”

Annie shook her head and they sat down waiting for the cake to arrive. The baker came back with a single sample of each cake.

“Oh! We have company, who is this?” Annie was about to answer but Andy was faster.

“I’m the groom!” Full smile on display.

“The groom! What a wonderful surprise. Your fiancé was telling me you were busy at court.”

“Yeah, I cancel everything so I could be here.” Andy took Annie’s hand and squeezed it.

“Then I should bring your sample too.”

“No, we could share. Right honey?”

“Right…”

“Very well, we choose our most popular flavors for wedding cakes. So we have chocolate, I know is not the common but it’s been popular lately.” She put the sample on the table, “We have red velvet.” Another small cake was placed in front of them, “Vanilla, a classic! We also have carrot cake and last but not least, lemon. I leave you two to it, I’ll be back in a moment. Enjoy!” All the small cakes were decorated the same, cover with white frosting and golden bits on the edges.

The baker left them alone. None of them said a word. Until Andy spoke.

“These shoes are not made for running.”

“You ran?”

“I didn’t want to be late.” Annie nodded, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Missing all the other appointments. Not helping you with the planning.”

“It’s ok.”

“No, it’s not, honey.” He took a deep breath, “I care, I do. I want to marry you; and I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention to you.”

“I understand you’re busy.”

“But I wasn’t busy, I was being an ass! You don’t deserve that.” Annie smiled.

“You were an ass.”

“Yes, I was. By the way. I think peonies are perfect for the center pieces. We should go with silver and lilac. Also,” Andy opened his jacket and took out a picture. “I like this picture of my mom.”

Annie smiled, “You went through my binders.”

“I had to.” Andy leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, “I saw one of your notes, and you haven’t chosen a song for us to dance.” Annie shook her head, “Why not?”

“I just, none of the classic wedding songs seem to fit.”

“I have a song.”

“You do?”

“Yeap. Every time I listen to that song you just,” Andy made the sound of pop with his lips, “Right in my head, all smiley.”

“What song it is?”

“I want that to be a surprise.”

“You know I don’t like surprises, they…”

“Make you anxious, I know. Just trust me, ok? I promise I won’t forget about it and I know it’s the perfect song.”

“I trust you, Andy.” She gave him a peck on the lips.

“One more thing.”

“What?”

“I got you an appointment with Melissa Benedict for next week.”

“WHAT?! HOW?!!!!”

“I know some people, and when I finally could reach her, I told her I had fucked up and wanted to make it up to you, so she said yes.”

“Oh my god!” Annie hugged Andy tight, “Thank you!”

“Anything so my baby can have her dream wedding.”

“Our wedding.” Annie said smiling.

“Our dream wedding!” They kissed again, “Alright! Let’s tastes these cakes!” Andy reached for one, took a piece and shove it in his mouth.

“Andy, wait!”

Andy spit the cake in the napkin.

“Fucking lemon cake! Why is this even an option?!” Annie laughed, “Oh! You think this is funny?”

“Yes, maybe it was a bit of karma.”

“Fine, I deserve it.”

After tasting all of the samples the baker came back.

“So, which flavor do you want for your wedding?”

“Chocolate!” Andy said

“Vanilla” Annie said at the same time.

“Oh! Hehehe” the baker saw with amusement to each of the pair.

“Andy, we can’t have chocolate cake at our wedding.”

“Why not? It’s delicious!”

“Cuz it’s a wedding.”

“But, you love chocolate cake.”

“Well,” The baker said, “As I told you before it has been very popular these days, because people want something different for the event.”

“See, we should go with chocolate.”

“I think we should stick with vanilla.”

“I can make a cake with both flavors, half vanilla, half chocolate. You know a marble cake.” Andy and Annie looked at each other. “Be right back.”

The baker went to the front of the bakery and came back with a slice of cake, the bread was a mixture of chocolate and vanilla, with chocolate frosting and bronze sugar spheres on top of it.

“We can always change the decorations, ok? Just try it.”

They took their forks and cut a small piece of the slice and taste it.

“Oh my god,” Annie licked her lips, “this is it.”

“It’s perfect.” Andy said as he cut another piece of the cake.

“So, it’s settle. Marble cake for the Barbers.”

“The Barbers has a nice tune, don’t you think, honey?”

“It sounds good.”

“Yes, it does!” Andy leaned in and gave a small kiss.

“I love weddings!” The baker said and the couple laughed. “Sorry, I always get excited.”

[mythboundmuses-archive]

@praenunti | continuted from here.

Kevin is struggling to look at him. The plane ticket is clutched so tightly in his hand that it's shaking. Is that nerves or is it alcohol or is it because he was stupid enough to take it in his left hand? Does it matter? He doesn't think anything matters but that he has a few minutes alone with Jean before he has to go back out there and face Riko and pretend none of this matters. "I didn't know who he was. If I had I never would've--" But what difference does it make? Nathaniel--Neil--whatever had kept it from him, so there's nothing Kevin could've done. He can't protect him from going to the Nest. He can't protect himself, let alone anyone else. He hates that Jean is included on that list. He wishes more than anything that he wasn't. He opens his mouth, a question on his tongue, but he swallows it. It isn't fair to ask if Jean hates him. He knows the answer anyway--yes and no. There's no point arguing about it. He lets out a breath, his chest tight and his heart hammering, but finally makes himself look up at Jean. He doesn't have any idea what to say, because nothing can make this any better. "I tried to find you, the night I left. I couldn't. I didn't have time." Hard to believe that was a year ago. "I wanted to come back for you. You know I did." He needs to believe Jean knows that at least. "I don't... Yeah. Maybe I can't stand myself for that. For leaving you there. But you and I both know that won't make a difference. Nothing does. I don't want to fight with you. I never did." He's floundering for something else to say. What can he say? He doesn't think words exist for a moment like this.

It never gets any easier seeing Kevin, his once-closest and only friend, the only other person in the world that understood what his life is like at the Nest. On the court, it is easier because Jean can pretend that he is just another player, a stranger. Especially since now Kevin's play style is so different, so far removed from what it had once been. Unless they're face to face, no helmets and faceguards to hide behind, Kevin is anyone and noone. So Jean tells himself, anyway. Except they're not on the court now. They're face to face, and Kevin is talking about that night, a year ago. The night that Jean's life turned upside down, when the one person that he believed genuinely cared about him abandoned him. A muscle in his jaw twitches; his head aches with how hard he is grinding his teeth together. "Don't lie to me," he snaps. He feels cornered, facing down a terrible monster that chills him to the bone. Jean doesn't want to talk about the night Kevin left, how much it had hurt, how much Riko had hurt him in the following weeks. The wounds Riko left have healed, replaced by new, fresh ones; Kevin's is still open and bleeding, raw and ugly and all-consuming. But Jean isn't about to show weakness to this stranger who stands before him, giving him lies and excuses as if that's going to patch his wounds. "You left and you haven't looked back. I know you, Kevin, I know how fucking self-centered you are. Don't pretend that you ever think of me." Jean narrows his eyes, and his next words are a sharp, hissed whisper. "Do you remember what Riko was like? He was worse after you left. I thought he was going to kill me because he thought I was helping you, that I covered for you. He didn't believe that I didn't know your plan until it was already too late. I thought he was going to kill me, and it would have been your fault. So don't come here telling me that you care about me, about what happens to me. Run along home to your little happy family, where you can bury your head in the sand and go back to pretending that I don't exist. Vous êtes un lâche et vous l'avez toujours été."

[prismatic-bell]

So the other day I said a thing about how I felt like a line could be drawn between antis, and the rise of 24-hour news networks. I’ve given that thought some time to bubble to see what, exactly, my brain meant by that statement, and here’s what I’ve got:

When I was a kid (back in Ye Olde 1990s), we had three major news stations in my town: Channel 12, Channel 24, and Channel 35. These corresponded to NBC, ABC, and CBS, but I don’t remember which one was which so don’t ask me. Anyway--you had a half hour of news at 8 or 9 am (depending on which station you watched), an hourlong program at noon in which half the program was stuff like “here are today’s beach closures and some recipes and also if you’re looking for stuff to do with the kids this weekend here are local promotions,” and half an hour at either 5, 5:30, or 6 (again, depending on which channel you watched). One of the three stations also did a half-hour capper at 10pm. So unless you were watching all three stations, and picking the news every single time, the max amount of news you were going to get was like an hour and a half. If you wanted more news than that, you read the newspaper. When my mom was a kid (back in Ye Olde 1960s), this would have seemed like an inordinate amount of news--for her, it was half an hour at 6pm and ten minutes at 10pm and then the station (there was only one station that did the news) played the National Anthem and went off the air until 6am, at which time you might get like . . . the weather and a traffic report.

For anything else, you read the newspaper.

Now with only half an hour to present a whole lot of news, what are you going to do? You are going to stick to the facts. You don’t have a choice. You have a very short time to fit a whole lot of information. “Notre Dame cathedral caught on fire today. French firefighters are working to get the flames under control, and authorities in charge of the cathedral are doing their best to remove relics, paintings, and other holy objects while it’s still possible. French President Mr. Somebody addressed the nation and stated every attempt to save the building, and to rebuild the damage, will be made. In local news . . . “ And that’s it! If you want more information, you’ve got to wait for the newspaper in the morning, and you’re going to have to get a copy of the New York Times or USA Today, because the local paper will only have a blurb, and that blurb will mostly cover what you just heard!

But then the news changed.

By the time I was a teenager, the non-cable news looked like this: All three channels had a morning show that started at 5 or 6 am (depending on your station) and ran until 8 or 9 (depending on your station). The station that ended at 8am then had a half-hour morning news show. The mid-day news at 11 or 12 was still an hour. Channel 35 did a half-hour news segment at 5 and another at 5:30, back to back. The other two stations simply did an hourlong segment. And then one station did half an hour at 10:30, and the other two did hourlong segments at 10pm.

What do you do with that much time? Well, you expand. Yes, you can fit more news, but you can also fit more about the news. “Notre Dame cathedral in Paris went up in flames today. The fire began in the famous historic bell tower, and spread to the roof. At this time, portions of the roof appear to have caved in, and there are concerns about the integrity of the medieval stonework in the cathedral walls. French firefighters have been working since 8am Paris time to get the flames under control, and authorities in charge of the cathedral are doing their best to remove relics, paintings, and other holy objects while it’s still possible. Some firefighters are also helping with this project, as portions of the building have become too unsafe to enter. French President Mr. Somebody addressed the nation late this evening and stated every attempt to save the building, and to rebuild the damage, will be made. Of the cathedral itself, Somebody said, ‘Our Lady has weathered worse troubles than this. Paris as a city, and France as a nation, will overcome.’ In local news . . . ”

Still facts, but a few more facts. At this point the internet as a public thing is just past its infancy, and in theory you could go look up some stuff on, like, AOL, maybe, about what was happening.

(Nina, you were talking about antis . . . ?)

(Yes, I was. Bear with me.)

But at this point you also saw the rise of Fox News and CNN.

Now up to this point, I could trust the news. That is important to know. “Nina, American news is full of propaganda--” Listen, you’re not wrong, but the point is, if Scott Brennan told me Notre Dame cathedral was on fire and priests were trying to remove the holy relics, I could safely assume Notre Dame cathedral was on fire and priests were trying to remove the holy relics. If Channel 24 told me “the blizzard of the century” had occurred the night before, I could look out the window of my snowed-in house and go “yeah, that seems legit.”

I grew up, in other words, in a world in which facts were facts. We didn’t waffle or wring our hands over whether or not Notre Dame was on fire. And this allowed me to take a similar approach to fiction: it is a fact that murder is wrong, and knowing this, I can read a book in which someone commits murder for very good reasons, but still know they did something wrong.

But now you have 24 hours of news to fill.

No matter how you pad it, no matter how many voice clips you play or retrospectives you do, you cannot find enough news in the world to fill 24 hours, seven days a week, 365 days a year. You just can’t.

So they started adding “opinion pieces.”

Notre Dame is on fire--is it worth saving? Notre Dame is on fire--but is it as big a catastrophe as it’s made out to be? Notre Dame is on fire--but France has been steadily calling themselves a secular nation, so is this the punishment of G-d? Notre Dame is on fire--

--wait, what was that?

Yep. You saw it, I saw it, we all saw it. But as the “opinion pieces” slowly took over the regular news and stopped being called “opinion pieces” and started being called “programs,” it became less and less clear what was and wasn’t fact.

Now obviously Notre Dame is on fire. But now we have to ask ourselves: is it worth it to save it or not? Is the financial cost outweighed by the history? Will those answers change depending on how bad the damage becomes? And you, lonely elderly person in your chair whose predominant socialization these days is at church, how does this make you feel about French people? These are questions that once would have been asked of the church caretakers and the French government. Now every single person is being asked to think about them, without being provided all of the context that is available to the church caretakers and the French government. And along the way, you get these nice, nasty little bits of prejudice and slanted thinking and bias sneaked in.

I told you I’d come back to antis. And here we are.

The vast majority of antis are very young. They grew up in a world where those “programs” were the norm. They were not provided with a cultural basis of “these are the facts.” They were provided a basis of “here is what I think about the facts.” They were provided a basis of, as Mr. Banks said in Mary Poppins, “kindly do not cloud the matter with facts.”

There are no facts! Who fucking cares! An anti who’s 15 years old today was eleven years old when we were introduced to “alternative facts”! Is it wrong for a 27-year-old man to pursue a relationship with a 13-year-old girl? Depends on which news channel, and which presenter, you ask!

They literally grew up in a world in which critical thinking was discouraged. Once upon a time, you would have seen on TV that Notre Dame was on fire, and at dinner--or whatever your family did for together time--you might say things like “going to be expensive to fix that, I wonder what they’ll do,” but you wouldn’t have been hit with six presenters telling you exactly why Notre Dame should/shouldn’t be rebuilt. And don’t forget--even if you, personally, do not watch the news (or read it on the internet, which is just as bad, because everybody’s after those elusive advertising clicks, everybody needs the “scoop” two seconds before it happens), you know people who do. You hear their opinions and their hot takes and their retellings all around you. And those  opinions and hot takes and retellings will be colored by which “program” that person saw first.

Watch the first thirty seconds of this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dn2RjahTi3M

Walter Cronkite, a legendary news anchor, giving his opinion on Vietnam. You will notice that he states, very clearly: “it seems very clear to this reporter.” This is Cronkite’s opinion, nothing more, and he makes it clear that he is speaking only for himself.

Now skip to approximately 1:05, and watch him report the Kennedy assassination. You can see he’s emotional, but also keeping it under wraps as best he can because he has An Important Job To Do, and that job is twofold: to deliver the news accurately and concisely, and to keep the American public calm (you can see this when he hurriedly says Johnson is probably taking the oath to become President; a missing VP would be a crisis at this moment). This is a man who’s just found out the most beloved president in modern times is dead. And not just dead--murdered. It’s not like Kennedy had a heart attack, his damn head was blown off. This news is still coming in so quickly that you can see him glancing off the screen to get fresh reports. He’s one of the first to receive this absolute blow--and he’s still holding it together, barely wavering. (When I was a kid, this role would go to Dan Rather. He was no Cronkite, but he tried.)

Where is that kind of rock for today’s teens? Imagine--heaven forbid, in the state our country’s in right now--that tomorrow we get the news Biden was shot.

How would we get that message?

Would it be delivered by an even-keeled, just-the-facts reporter like Cronkite? Or would we get it from a bunch of half-hysterical articles and crisismongering “programs”? And would it be delivered to us straight, like Cronkite did, or would it be buried in three days’ worth of opinions on his “legacy” and policies and What This Means For America?

Now: how are you supposed to build any kind of strong convictions and moral compass on a world like that? Where anything can be true if enough people have an “opinion” on it? Where the facts get immediately buried in a wave of bullshit?

Antis are reacting to a world of “opinions” and “programs” being thrown at them 24/7 by trying to create a world they can control, where there are in fact things that are true, in a world that has actively refused them the opportunity to learn how to parse and process facts. And so what they’ve come up with is this grossly distorted version of facts, because gross distortions of facts are all they know. It’s all they’ve ever seen. They’re perpetuating a system they don’t even realize they’re part of, because they never experienced life before it existed.

They’re not lying when they say they were heavily influenced by fiction because the bounds between fact and fiction have been actively erased. On purpose. And it’s difficult to grok that, if you grew up in a world where you didn’t have to go seek out photographic evidence to be absolutely certain that Notre Dame was, indeed, on fire.

So what we need to be doing, first and foremost, is rebuilding that wall of facts, that line of truth. Otherwise, what we’re going to see is more of this, but getting worse daily.

We set them up for this, and now we’re paying the price for it.

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-Six

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: writing this chapter was so much fun but reading it was a train wreck so you’ll just have to find out yourself whether it’s actually good or not. hurt/comfort ahead

***

Most of Nesta’s days lately are spent holed up in her basement apartment, either studying for her finals or preparing for her move—which means that whenever Cassian wants to see her, she has to haul ass all the way to the cabin to make time for him.

Like now, on the morning of her birthday, as she stands in her pajamas and slippers in the middle of Cassian’s home gym. Staring at the reason behind his urgent phone call telling her to come over.

“It’s a pole,” she says dumbly.

“Happy birthday,” he says, looking proud of himself. “Consider it an incentive to move in faster, okay?”

“It’s a pole,” she repeats. Tall and gleaming, it stands in front of the wall of mirrors away from most of the workout equipment. “You installed a pole?”

The gift itself isn’t that surprising—Cassian could afford an entire pole dancing studio if he wanted to. What surprises her is that it’s installed here, in Cassian’s personal space. The gym is to Cassian what the reading nook is to Nesta, if not even more sacred. Nesta rarely enters it, but now… he’s extending a blatant invitation into his space.

“I know you already take classes with Gwyn and Emerie,” Cassian is saying, “but you haven’t gotten to go in a while because of school and work, so I thought it would be easier for you if I brought the dance studio over here.” He scratches his head, and Nesta’s eyes drift to the silver watch on his wrist. “You never told me you used to dance. I found out from Feyre, and she sent me videos of your old ballet recitals.”

“Did she?”

Cassian nods along. “You were good. You’re still good now, which is why you should wipe that look off your face and thank me for your gift.”

Nesta is sure she looks stupefied, but she doesn’t do anything to rein it in. She has so many thoughts, and she can only think of saying, “I don’t want to practice in front of you.”

“You don’t have to,” Cassian promises. “Other than early mornings, maybe evenings, the gym will be empty for you.”

Okay. “You—” Nesta starts, “You’re really okay with this?”

Cassian’s face drops in confusion. “Okay with what?” He looks at the pole and back at Nesta. “Do you not like it?”

“Are you okay with giving me part of the gym? Where are you going to go if you want to be alone?” She chews on her lip.

Cassian laughs. “Why would I want to be alone?”

Nesta shrugs. “I need it at least once a week. I figured everyone else was the same way.” Her alone spot in the cabin is her former bedroom from the first time she lived here. Cassian knows not to enter that room, and on days when she spends time in there he simply waits until she comes out. Nesta assumed the gym was close to being something like that for Cassian.

Realization crosses Cassian’s face. “Oh, you mean like your ‘special room’?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Nesta snipes. “I told you I don’t use it for masturbating.”

He comes over and swings a heavy arm around her shoulder. “Babe, if I wanted to be alone I wouldn’t stay in the house. I’d run the trails in the woods behind the cabin.”

“Really?” Her brows furrow. She didn’t know that.

“Look, am I gonna have to return the pole or not?” Cassian says, exasperated.

Nesta stares at him closely, and upon finding no other catch to his gift, she flings her arms around his torso. “I love it,” she declares into his chest. “I love it so much.”

His body tenses in surprise at her uncharacteristic outburst, but then she feels his strong arms wrapping around her too. “In that case, have I earned myself a private show?” he teases.

“I’ll give you so many private shows,” Nesta promises. At least, once she completes her 2L and has the time to learn how to use the pole. “Emerie and Gwyn are going to be so jealous,” she hums pridefully.

Cassian chuckles deeply, and the sound rumbles through his chest where Nesta’s head rests.

They stay holding each other in silence like that for a while, mostly because it’s too early for unnecessary conversing. When Nesta finally speaks up, it’s to say, “Did you really have to call me over at eight a.m. for this, though?”

“It’s your birthday.” Cassian strokes the hair away from her neck. “Don’t even think about sleeping,” he warns. “We’re spending the whole day together. Your sisters mailed gifts, and Gwyn and Emerie are coming over at noon.”

That works for her.

***

The week after her birthday, Nesta drops her resignation letter onto Rhysand’s desk with a heavy smack.

He looks up from the envelope to her. “What’s this?”

“I’m quitting,” she announces without flourish. “Thank you for the experience. Let’s never do it again.”

“But—you got paid more than anyone else in an assistant position ever would. And you weren’t too bad at your job for a student. What went wrong?” He picks up the letter as if he can’t believe his eyes.

Nesta’s stare is a deadpan one. “Let me guess: you thought I would take your free paychecks, use my connections to move up your nepotism ladder, and end up working at Night Court comfortably for the rest of my life?”

Rhysand sits back in his chair and raises a brow at Nesta. “This is a family business,” he says smoothly. “I thought you wanted to be part of the family?”

How funny of him. “I’m good,” she answers simply.

“You came all the way here to tell me this?” Here being Velaris, which gleams through the wall of windows behind Rhysand’s desk.

“I’m not here to see you,” Nesta says, the implication being left in the air. “I’m just stopping by.” Giving a short nod, she turns on her heel to leave.

“If you ever go looking for another job,” Rhysand calls after her, “tell me if you need a recommendation. I can get you into any position at any business.”

She pauses at the door and looks over her shoulder at Rhysand. “I already have recommendations. And a job.” Her summer clerkship at the local family law firm won’t pay a third of what she made here at Night Court, but it’s good enough for now. Combined with what she’s saved up so far, she’ll get through her final year of law school without issue.

At Rhysand’s surprised face, she takes her cue to leave.

Nesta didn’t intend on going all the way to personally meet the CEO to quit, but since Cassian has been in Velaris the whole weekend for work, she thought it would be nice to surprise Cassian with a visit and cut her ties with Night Court Inc. at the same time.

Night Court’s headquarters are huge, with the skyscraper easily being one of the tallest buildings in the city. Nesta nearly gets lost trying to find her way out of Rhysand’s offices.

When she finally spots the steel doors of the elevator, they’re about to slide shut on her. “Hold the door!” she calls out, kicking into a jog. An arm pushes out at the last second to stop the doors from closing, and Nesta slides into the elevator with a sigh of relief. The doors close after her, and she turns to thank the only other person in the elevator.

The man is already looking at her in surprise—surprise which slowly turns into a shark-like smile. “Nesta?”

Nesta’s blood goes cold. He can’t be.

“Remember me?” He points at himself, still grinning. “Keith? Keith O’Connell?”

She tries to swallow but her mouth is dry. “Yeah, I remember,” she gets out.

She remembers everyone she knew from college. She especially remembers Tomas’s closest friends.

Nesta realizes Keith is saying something to her. “What floor?” he asks.

“Uh…” Where was she going again? She can’t remember. She spits out a random number and lets Keith press the button.

Nesta turns her gaze to the flashing numbers above the doors, watching them go down and down. Why are there so many damn floors?

“Didn’t think I’d see you around here,” he goes on, trying to get her to meet his eyes. “Let me guess, you’re an intern?”

Nesta keeps her eyes glued to the floor numbers. “No.”

“Ah,” he hums. “Don’t tell me you’re still chasing that lawyer dream?”

When Nesta doesn’t respond, she finds five fingers on her jaw turning her face toward Keith’s.

She jerks out of his grip, indignant rage bubbling to the surface—rage that is almost immediately suppressed by dread and fear. She’s so small right now; she can’t remember how to be big and loud.

Keith grins, taking a step closer. “What’s wrong? I just asked a question.”

Her back bumps into the wall. She barely feels it. She might as well be back in the living room of her college apartment, sitting on the arm of the couch while Tomas makes snide remarks about her to Keith O’Connell and his other friends. She’s not allowed to leave, because then she’ll be the one who can’t take a joke.

Keith frowns disappointedly at the ground, as if he found a shiny toy just to discover that it doesn’t do any tricks. Now he’s bored. “Damn,” he says. “When you’re not busy being Tom’s bitch, I guess you’re just a bitch.”

Nesta wishes she could be a bitch right now. She wishes she could fight back. “What are you doing, Keith?”

He tilts his head at her. “I’m catching up with you. You got a boyfriend?” His beady eyes slide down her form, leaving a slimy feeling in their wake.

When her lips stay pressed in a firm line, he grabs her arm and laughs. “Come on, why’re you being so weird?” He shakes her by the elbow. “I won’t tell anyone if you do have a boyfriend, promise.”

Nesta hears a ding, and the elevator doors slide open. She doesn’t know whether it’s her floor or Keith’s floor, but she doesn’t care—she’s the first to pull away from him and make an exit. “See you,” she blurts before speedwalking out of the elevator.

Why the fuck did she say “see you”? She doesn’t want to see him ever again. He doesn’t deserve to see her ever again.

Behind her, she hears Keith chuckle again. “I’ll tell Tomas you said hi,” he calls after her.

***

Cassian finds Nesta huddled under a desk.

He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him when he spotted her hurrying out of the elevator on the eighteenth floor of Night Court’s headquarters, but soon enough he realized that yes, that was Nesta’s coat and Nesta’s hair. She was supposed to be back home studying for her first two finals, but instead she was here looking like she was going to be sick.

He was about to follow her when his eyes slid to the man that had gotten off the elevator after her. He didn’t like how O’Connell was staring after Nesta.

“We’re old college friends,” O’Connell shrugged dismissively when Cassian approached him. “I was just saying hi.”

Nesta doesn’t have any friends from college.

Which leads Cassian to a dim, abandoned meeting room, one that would seem fully empty if it wasn't for the sound of strained breathing coming from under the only desk.

He approaches the desk slowly, his worn sneakers coming into Nesta’s line of sight. Pushing the rolling chair away, he crouches down to get a better look at her.

Tinny music comes out of her earbuds, loud enough to drown out any other sounds. She stares past Cassian like she can’t even see him, and the hollowed out look in her eyes terrifies him for a moment. When she blinks, tears spill over onto her cheeks.

“Nes?” Carefully, Cassian reaches out to touch one of her earbuds. After a second of hesitation, he pulls it out and lets it fall.

Nesta sniffles once, then finally turns her teary gaze to Cassian. Her eyes widen a little bit as she croaks, “How did you find me?”

“I followed you. What are you doing here, baby?”

“Um—” Her voice cracks, and she swipes away her tears with the sleeve of her coat. She clears her throat and says, “I came to surprise you.”

“And how’d you end up under here?” Cassian pulls Nesta’s hand away from her face before the scratchy wool can redden her face further. Makeup is smudged around her eyes, and he tries to soothe the sensitive skin there with his thumbs.

Nesta’s other earbud drops out of her ear while he fusses, leaving her with nothing to listen to.

Cassian is quietly, studiously tucking stray hairs back into Nesta’s bun when she confesses, “I was weak.”

“How?” Concern pinches Cassian’s brow. “By crying in front of me?”

“I was completely helpless,” she goes on, her voice numb. “And I didn’t know how not to be that way. I hated it, it’s so stupid.” She tears up again. “I’m not supposed to be that stupid.”

“Tell me what happened,” Cassian demands. He can’t pretend to be patient anymore.

Nesta presses her lips together and stares down at her shoes. Nothing Cassian can think of can prepare him for when she says, “I ran into a friend of my ex.”

So that’s who he is. A frightening calmness settles over Cassian. “O’Connell?” he asks, though he already knows.

Nesta looks up. “You know him?”

He tightens his jaw but nods. “Move over.” Ducking his head, Cassian crawls under the desk to join Nesta. He has to hunch over in half to fit, but Nesta doesn’t seem to mind.

He has to give it to her—it’s not a bad hiding spot.

“What did he say to you?” He tries to sound steady, undisturbed.

“He didn’t need to say anything,” Nesta answers. “I lost my spine with one look from him. He had me under his thumb.”

“I see.” Cassian has made peace with the fact that Tomas Mandray has long since moved away, that he’ll never be able to track the shithead down and make him suffer. What he didn’t know, however, is that Mandray left his friends behind.

“Were you hurt?” is his next question. “Did he touch you?” Cassian doesn’t know what he’ll do if Nesta says yes, but he has to ask anyway.

“I’m not hurt,” she assures him. But her hands rub over her upper arms like she can feel the ghost of a touch there.

“I see,” he repeats. He watches her for a bit longer before stating, “You’re not stupid.”

Nesta’s huff is amused. “Thank you.”

“And don’t spend too much time thinking about O’Connell,” he mutters, nudging her knee with his. “I’ll get rid of him for good.” That is a promise that Cassian is happy to keep.

Nesta looks alarmed. “Like…murder him?”

Cassian laughs. “No, not like that. But you’ll never see him again, so I hope you’ve said what you needed to say to him.”

Nesta thinks for a moment, then nods. “That sounds good. I don’t have anything to say to him.” She inhales a deep breath. “I think I feel better now.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Cassian holds out a hand to her. “You wanna get out of here?”

She takes his hand and he helps her out from under the desk.

Nesta apparently booked a hotel room in Velaris to surprise Cassian with, but they both agree on the way to the parking lot that they’ve had enough of the city. Cassian chooses to leave his truck behind for Rhys to take care of, and he offers to drive Nesta’s car while she rests.

The ride home is long and quiet.

Nesta sits in silence with her earbuds in, her head leaning against the car window and one of her hands in Cassian’s. He drives with his free hand, sneaking glances over at her every so often just to make sure she really is okay.

It enrages him that someone from Nesta’s past found their way into her place of work. What if he and O’Connell weren’t working in Velaris this weekend, and Nesta bumped into O’Connell in the middle of town instead? It could have tainted any sense of safety she has with the small city she calls home.

Cassian has no plans on telling her that O’Connell is the team leader for the Milan project, or that he rents a small place on the outskirts of their town. Because soon enough neither of those things will be true, and there’s no use in unnecessarily worrying her.

He absentmindedly rubs his thumb over the back of Nesta’s hand.

When they finally pull up to the cabin, Nesta picks her head up from the window to look around. Spotting the other black car parked in the driveway, she makes a sound of disappointment. “Az is home.”

“We can stay in the car if you like,” Cassian offers. He’s in no rush to go inside and face other people, either.

Nesta pulls her heels off, bending over to rub her stockinged feet. “Maybe just for a little while.”

Cassian unbuckles his seatbelt, gesturing for Nesta to put her feet in his lap.

She obliges, looking too tired to refuse him. Cassian runs his hands up her legs and under her skirt, finding the waistband of her sheer black tights and tugging.

“What are you doing?” She jerks under his hands, eyes wide. “The car’s too small for this.”

He narrows his gaze at her. “Chill, horndog. I’m just making you comfortable.” He pulls the tights the rest of the way down her legs and off, freeing her skin.

Nesta gives a little sigh of relief at the feeling of air on her bare skin. She rubs her hands over her thighs in wonder, drawing Cassian’s gaze.

He meets her eyes, and she slowly curls her legs off his lap, tucking them underneath herself instead.

Elated to have Nesta’s undivided attention after two hours of silence, he leans over and slips his hand around her jaw, pulling her in for a kiss.

Her inhale is soft, surprised, before she relaxes against his mouth. Cassian kisses her once, twice, hoping it’ll remind her that she’s safe at his side. That nothing can make her weak.

He’s slow to pull away, and he opens his eyes to find that Nesta’s are still closed, her lips still parted. He stifles a smile and whispers, “I think we should head inside.”

“Mm-hm,” she nods eagerly.

They exit the car, Cassian carrying Nesta’s shoes and tights in one hand and Nesta running over to him barefoot.

He leaves little pecks along her jaw and neck as they enter the cabin, taking extra time to find any moles or beauty marks. She’s about to turn in his arms to face him when they both take notice of Azriel sitting in the living room. Cardboard boxes surround him, and he’s filling them up with books.

Cassian drops Nesta’s heels and tights onto the floor, bringing Az’s attention to him.

“Hey, bro,” Cassian says warily. “What are you doing?”

“Moving out,” Az answers.

Nesta chokes on a laugh. When no one laughs with her, her face drops. “You’re serious?”

Cassian thinks the same thing.

“I’m going back to Velaris,” Az shrugs, dropping some trinkets into a box. “I’m ready to face Elain. I’m taking accountability.” He says it like it’s the simplest decision ever, like he’s talking about bringing an umbrella to a picnic.

“Are you sure about this?” Cassian asks. Just a while ago his brother was terrified at the idea of entering a ten mile radius of Velaris.

“I’m packing, aren’t I?” Az says dryly.

“You’re packing our things,” Cassian points out.

Nesta gasps when she notices. “Hey, those are my books!” She hurries over to snatch one out of Azriel’s hand.

Azriel snatches it back with a dark look. “What goes in the box, stays in the box.”

Cassian sputters in disbelief, looking around at the scene before him. “I mean—can we ask what brought this on?”

“Maybe I did some self-reflection. Or maybe I finally got sick of you and Nesta hooking up while I’m in the same room, like you were about to do now.” Az shrugs, pulling out a roll of packing tape and tearing off a strip with his teeth. “Don’t act like you’re going to miss me,” he continues as he tapes one of the boxes shut. “You two have been waiting for this day for months, and I’m finally granting your wishes.”

Cassian and Nesta share a look, and Cassian says hesitantly, “This isn’t… a breakdown or something, right?”

Azriel narrows his hazel eyes at Cassian.

“Okay, okay.” Cassian holds his hands up in defense. He pulls his hoodie over his head and off in one swift movement and goes over to the couch to help his brother pack. He still doesn’t know what brought on this sudden change of heart, but he knows Az won’t tell unless he wants to.

Nesta remains standing where she is, confounded, before dropping down next to an open box and rifling through it. “I want compensation for anything of mine you’re taking,” she demands, pulling out various paperbacks one by one.

“So like a dime for every three trash porns,” Cassian tells Az.

“I’m upcharging,” Nesta says. Her hand stops rummaging through the box, and she pulls out a framed photo instead of a book. She turns her steely eyes to Azriel. “You can’t have this one.”

It’s a candid picture of Cassian, Nesta, and Azriel on the ski lodge trip. Cassian remembers the moment it was taken with vividness, because it was one of the rare moments on that vacation where all three of them were smiling at the same time.

“Emerie took this,” Nesta continues, “and she’s my friend, so by extent it’s mine.”

Az smiles politely at her. “You’re right, you should keep it,” he says. “You’re too ugly in that photo for me to take it.”

Nesta sneers back, but gets up to reset the photo on the fireplace mantle.

A day or two later, Cassian notices that the ski lodge picture is gone, frame and all. He sighs to himself and hopes Nesta won’t notice.

***

a/n: it’s official less than five parts left!! cassian’s revenge scene is gonna be hotter than every smut scene combined

tagging: @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook a favor: @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea @teagoddess99

[cobaincreates]

the fuck is a touron? pt. 2

warnings: language, mention of drugs & alcohol, smut (wrap it you're smart), very brief oral (male receiving), 18+

count: 9k+

part one is here! i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it! also remember when i said this has been sitting for a couple months?? welp, it’s been longer than that...oops. but it's all yours now!!! :)

taglist is always open. have a lovely weekend! photo cred

— — —

3 weeks earlier

a loud blare jolted you awake.

“what the fuck?”

you scrambled to stop the noise, your heart nearly jumping out of your chest. your head knocked into something hard as you twisted and tried to assemble your brain.

a clatter of what sounded like several bottles came from your right. the sound still rang out into the room—which was where exactly?

as you got to your hands and knees and shuffled against what felt like carpet, you remembered vaguely that you’d gone out last night. the carpet and dark room didn’t tell you much else. but the trilling alarm was enough to set you into a search to find that out.

“shut that off!” a voice yelled from behind you.

your hand knocked into more bottles and you grappled for one, feeling the familiar shape of a glass beer bottle. someone groaned in front of you then a blinding light pierced across your eyes. you sucked in a breath, dropping the bottle and covering your eyes.

what, were you a vampire? you peeked past your fingers to a parted curtain letting in a sliver of sunlight. you saw a little more of where you’d been, the light trail full of bottles and some sprawled legs and arms.

the alarm cut off suddenly. soft snores and labored breaths filled the silence now, along with a pounding in your ears so intense, you would’ve thought you were still hearing the alarm. a slow, gradual ache formed in the center of your forehead.

you blinked as your eyes adjusted to the light. a sparkling stiletto caught your attention, but it wasn’t on a foot. you looked around the room and spotted its twin near the back of a couch. crawling over, you found liza laying on her back with her hair messily splayed around her.

she was yawning while her phone lit up her face in a soft glow. when your eyes met, she whispered, “hey.”

you faintly remembered her setting an alarm on her phone somewhere in between jell-o shots and body shots. or was it after the jäger bombs?

you let out an oomf as you collapsed beside her on your stomach. your head didn’t let up the pounding. you made a noise, your words muffled against the stale-smelling carpet.

“what?” liza said, not having heard any coherent words.

you turned your head, the carpet scratching your cheek. “i said, nurse me back to health, please.”

“i told you not to do those lines,” she said, shaking her head.

“what?” you said a little too loudly, earning a few shh!s in return.

“i’m kidding,” liza laughed.

you grimaced, mostly at her but also at the hair in your mouth. you reached up to remove it and sat up while liza looked at her phone.

“what time is it?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder around the room.

no one else had moved from liza’s wake-up alarm. your vision was clearer now and you took in the trashed room. bottles lay everywhere, a few staining the carpet in dark puddles. a lamp was on the floor, its shade across the room over someone’s head. it was warm considering the blackout curtains keeping the morning sun out and you couldn’t imagine sleeping in here any longer.

your head pounded again as liza said, “noon.”

“can we go? i might throw up from how hot it is in here.” you pulled at your dress, wanting nothing more than to get under some cold water.

liza sat up and looked around, dropping her phone into her lap. “i need my other shoe.”

“it’s over here,” you said and crawled to retrieve it for her.

she put it on, her dress riding up her thighs before she stood and pulled it back down. you took her offered hand so she could help you up. your heels sank into the carpet and you looked down, finding a soggy spot where beer had seeped in. you frowned and grabbed ahold of liza’s arm to find your way out.

your small crossbody clutch was resting on the couch cushion and you reached for it over a girl’s sleeping form, careful not to wake her. she made a small noise and you snatched it quickly, feeling the weight of your phone inside.

liza ordered an uber to bring you back to campus. it was fifteen minutes away and you panicked for a brief moment from not knowing where the hell you were. last night was a whole blur apart from arriving and getting into the swing of things. you remember dancing and drinking and having fun with liza and a few other friends. it wasn’t usual for you to sleep at random people’s houses after parties, but last night must have been a little more eventful than others.

you let out a long breath you didn’t know you were holding as you sank into the back of the uber driver’s car. luckily, you didn’t get someone hopped up on coffee or blasting music. it was quiet and calm, enough so that you closed your eyes.

speaking of coffee, you could really use one. and food. and a shower. had you really slept on that nasty carpet last night? you shuddered and opened your eyes.

fishing out your phone from your clutch, you saw a few notifications from last night and the past few hours. you ignored them for now and unlocked your phone with the goal of texting one of your friends who worked at the diner in town and begging him to have your usual ready when you got there. it was all you could think about as your stomach rumbled.

but when you unlocked your phone, your eyebrows drew together. your screen opened to an internet tab, a little plane logo at the top corner.

“why the fuck did i buy a ticket to the outer banks?” you blurted to no one in particular. well, maybe to your friend beside you, who lived in the outer banks.

liza lolled her head toward you on the back of the seat, not at all looking as concerned as you felt. “you’re visiting, remember? i talked you into buying it last night.”

“why?” your head seemed to throb even worse.

you couldn’t go to the outer banks. you didn’t have the money for it and the ticket on your internet browser said you’d even bought a round trip one. god, why had you done that? you were saving up for the summer. you were saving up to see so much more than the outer banks. as much as you loved liza, and you knew she’d love to have you there, you would be wasting a weekend. how were you going to tell your boss that you needed off at such short notice?

liza shrugged beside you. “because my dad will be gone for a whole weekend and i’m throwing the biggest party ever and you love me and you promised to dance to ‘back that ass up’ with me there.”

“oh my god,” you groaned and dropped your phone into your lap. you rubbed your pulsing temples. “i can’t go, liza. i really need the money.”

“hence why you have a job—said job will pay that back in a week. you’re fine,” she waved her hand and turned back to the window.

“i need to work that weekend,” you argued. just thinking about asking for it off had your skin crawling.

“you can take time off. you never do.” liza shrugged, looking at you again. her face softened when she noticed how distraught you were over it. “look, if you really don’t want to, then just cancel it. it’s okay if you don’t come.”

your fingers came away from your head as you saw that she was being genuine. she may have joked around with you a lot, but she meant it when she said that.

friday

getting time off wasn’t easy. your boss acted like the ultimate villain in a boss level from a video game, having you go through all of these obstacles just to get three days off. you understood it, you were short-staffed anyways and it was hard, but you couldn’t help feeling as though they were a little harsh on you. it was always a fight to get time off, even when you showed up every day, on time, and did your work without complaint.

right after you talked to your boss, feeling the ultimate amount of shame over requesting three days, you searched high and low for someone to cover your shift. turns out, it wasn’t all that difficult to begin with since one of your co-workers—who just had a baby and was still a full-time student—told you they’d appreciate the extra hours. you felt instantly better afterward until your boss asked you to fill out three separate sheets for the time off. no, you couldn’t just write the three days on one sheet. it had to be three. separate. sheets.

it was completely ridiculous and uncalled for. you fumed for a while, pressing way too hard on your pen as you filled them out. once you set them on their desk, all filled out properly, you reminded yourself you could quit soon. just a few more months of the semester and you’d be gone.

the next day when you came in, your boss had allegedly lost those request papers. and funnily enough, they allowed you to put the weekend dates on one paper this time. you’d stared at them for a whole three minutes, paper in your hand and tongue between your teeth with angry words just dying to get out. you can quit soon. you can quit soon.

the weeks dragged by before the day finally arrived and you left for your flight. it was only when you got off the plane that the hours started to fly by. it was colder this time around, which you didn’t mind, even on the breezy ferry ride. you were looking forward to campfires and cozy sweaters.

you hopped off the ferry around noon and right into liza’s waiting arms at the dock. she was overjoyed about you visiting and you knew all the trouble with work was worth it just to get away for a little. you were young, there was no shame in a little time off, and liza was right—you’d already earned the money back for the ticket.

liza’s dad was bustling around their house when you arrived, packing like a crazy person on a time crunch. he threw a hello at you as he shuffled past with an armful of socks and possibly underwear, which had you lifting an eyebrow at liza. she shoved your arm and took your bag into the guest bedroom.

“where’s your dad running off to? can i go?” you teased, dropping your backpack onto the light green comforter. the white walls seemed brighter this time, but you accounted it for the new sheer curtains over the windows facing the back of the house.

“he’s going on a business trip. and no, you can’t. his girlfriend is going with him.” liza left your bag near the dresser and hopped on the bed, the comforter sighing under her weight.

“girlfriend? aw, man.” you frowned dramatically and lay on your stomach beside her. “do we like this girlfriend?”

“she’s very...” her left eye squinted as she thought. “eccentric. like, i don’t know how to take it. he seems happy though.”

“like, weird eccentric or crazy eccentric?”

“i don’t know. i haven’t breached the abortion topic with her yet. that could be very telling, don’t you think?” a playful smile hinted at her lips.

“totally telling,” you agreed.

minutes later, you were waving liza’s dad off as he pulled out of the driveway, liza standing a few steps in front of you. once he was gone and out of sight down the drive, liza turned back to you with a flourish and a cheshire grin spread on her face. you laughed as she pushed you into the house and began jumping excitedly. music started playing somewhere in between the jumping, which promptly turned to dancing in the kitchen. having a whole house to yourselves was always a thrilling thing.

it wasn’t long after that that liza told you to get ready for a party at the boneyard, as she called it. you had no idea whether to take that literally or just go along with it and be surprised. you went with the latter as you changed out of your airport clothes.

as you were heading that way, you thought about that one fling you had the last time you were here. what was his name? something rich, with a t. tom? trenton? no, no, something obscure. topper. god, you nearly forgot about him, but now that you were visiting again, you wondered if he was around. in the middle of the semester seemed like your luck would be out.

liza was slowing the car as you thought to text topper, just to see if he was here. you hadn’t talked since that summer—what was it? seven months ago? you hadn’t felt the need to keep in touch. didn’t he say to shoot him a text when you were in town again? you supposed there was no harm in doing so. what could be the worst thing to happen? maybe he wouldn’t be in town, but you wouldn’t be all that bummed about not having a hookup. you weren’t as ravenous as you were in the summer.

“are you getting out?”

your head turned and you found liza standing with the door open, her keys dangling from her hand. you hadn’t noticed that the car had parked or that you’d arrived at wherever the boneyard was. the beach was right in front of you, just over a small crest in the sand. you could smell it slipping into the car from where liza held the door propped open.

you opened your own door and hopped out, the gravel crunching under your shoes. you were glad you opted for a sweater with the early spring wind from the water as it blew over your shoulders and tangled into your hair.

a handful of people were already on the beach, stripped driftwood scattered around. most used them as seats while there was a fire already going and drinks in their hands. you couldn’t help but smile at the sight, a giddiness filling your chest. this was exactly what you needed and the perfect setting for it.

liza pulled you into a group with some familiar faces that you had met the last time around. small talk was immediately flowing and you couldn’t care less for it, but you welcomed it anyways. liza was quick to guide you to the next group and the next before you finally got comfortable with a drink in hand. you sipped it steadily and ditched your shoes with liza’s, sticking them under a piece of driftwood behind where you stood. one of liza’s friends was asking you about your degree, something along the lines of why you had chosen it. you couldn’t comprehend it fully as your eyes drifted around the sand where people stood in small groups and larger ones.

standing near an overturned lifeguard post that was sure to be rotting away was none other than topper. he was facing away from you, but you had no doubt in your mind that it was him. his hair was blonder than it was when you met, funnily enough in the colder months. he wore a sweatshirt (blue or dark green, you couldn’t tell) paired with shorts and (surprisingly) sneakers.

you turned back to liza’s friend, giving them a somewhat vague but good answer. you then excused yourself and split from the group to head in topper’s direction. you stopped just outside of his larger group and crossed your arms, holding on to your beer by the neck loosely. it took a minute or two for topper to notice you, obviously feeling a presence behind him and doing a double-take. you already had a smirk on your face.

“holy shit, hi.” he blinked rapidly, turning away from his friends.

“hi,” you laughed. both of you went in for a hug at the same time. topper pressed your waist firmly to his while you hugged him around his shoulders.

“it’s good to see you,” you said.

“yeah, you too.” there was surprise in his voice and features as if he never thought he would see you again. your hand slipped down his arm as you pulled away before you took a step back, your hands resting at your sides.

“how have—“

“hey! the touron’s back!” a voice over his shoulder shouted.

you looked in its direction, finding a menacing smirk on an all too familiar face. you couldn’t remember his name as he sipped arrogantly on a beer, perched on the rotting lifeguard’s post.

you found your own sweet smile and raised your free hand to flip him off, which only egged him on more as his laughter filtered out. you were instantly annoyed, although you didn’t show it as he had brought unwanted attention to you and topper. you were sure most of the people in this larger group had been on topper’s deck that day in the summer.

topper looked at a loss for words when you turned back to him, his eyes still on you. you were glad he wasn’t laughing at his friend’s comment.

“can i get you another drink?” he gestured to the bottle between your fingers and you glanced down, seeing that it was a sip away from empty.

you gave him a nod as you said, “sure.”

the sun was setting by the time you got a refill, the glass cold against your palm, and wandered off with topper toward the water. conversation flowed as you caught up, shrugging as you told him all you had been doing was working and studying. you were lucky if you got to go out and have fun once in a while. topper expressed the same, talking animatedly about college and visiting home for the weekend to see his friends.

you wondered what he was like at college, if he spent most of his quieter hours in the library reading articles or if he was the type of friend to take up guard in the kitchen at parties. it was easy to imagine him in those situations since you hardly knew him. his smirking friend certainly didn’t seem the type.

you flicked some wet sand into the water, imagining the waves bringing it back to settle at your feet. topper stood beside you, the wind tousling his locks. you had just mentioned how your mother had bought a new coffee machine and how your dad canceled it because there was no point in having two. your mother just figured it would be easier having two so no one had to wait on the single-cup brewing system. it made you laugh and roll your eyes when you heard about it over the phone. topper had been smiling the whole time as he listened, his head inclined like you were whispering.

a rush of heat had slithered down between your thighs when you caught his eyes a couple times. he was just watching you as you spoke and you couldn’t help but smile flirtatiously, wondering if he was thinking what you were thinking.

how you were imagining last summer and the feel of his hands on your skin. you wished you’d gotten to know more of him; if he had any scars or little beauty marks that you didn’t notice the first time. it was easy to imagine it, but you had the burning curiosity to see for yourself.

you needed to take a break, to get a gulp of air before you drowned in the thought and jumped his bones right here and now.

“i should go find liza,” you said abruptly even though no one had been speaking. “i’ll see you around?”

topper nodded without a word and you caught a glimpse of confusion on his face, but you walked away. you let out a deep breath as you felt the wet sand turn dry under your feet. the sky was an inky pink behind you, windshields on cars reflecting it back.

you wrapped an arm around liza when you found her and she smiled knowingly. you didn’t have to ask if she’d seen you with topper, it was quite obvious in such an open area.

topper took up his place with the group you took him away from, but this time he was facing your way. you closed your lips around your bottle, staring back at him as he did the same thing. a shiver went up your legs, goosebumps exposing to the crisp air around you. you had to look away before you walked over there and kissed the hell out of him. your heart was behaving rather poorly now.

but could you help it? every time he looked at you as the sky grew darker and the bonfire grew larger, every obscene image possible took shelter behind your eyes. your mouth dried out so many times that you eventually had to get another drink and another. topper wasn’t making it easy and you started digging holes with your feet just to stay put.

you wouldn’t go to him, you made that very clear to yourself. if topper wanted you, then he’d have to make the first move. stubborn as it was maybe, but you’d torture him if you had to like he was torturing you now with all of these looks under his lashes. christ.

“my god,” liza said into your ear as she stood on the driftwood behind you, arms around your neck. “you’d think topper was a starving man.”

“shut up,” you laughed and looked at a fallen log in the fire pit.

“i’m serious. you guys have been undressing each other for an hour and a half now. just go over there and make out with him.”

you smiled into your drink, keeping your eyes far away from topper, or else you might actually do just that.

“there’s hardly any pda going on as it is, we need entertainment,” liza sighed.

“there’s your entertainment,” you nodded your head toward a rowdy group of young high schoolers shouting at each other. three of them looked angry as all hell and there was a bit of shoving before one of the older college boys broke it apart.

“that was short-lived,” liza frowned as she hopped down from the driftwood.

“you want another drink?” you asked her as she finished off her last one.

“yes, please!” she beamed as you took her bottle and tossed them into a nearby trash bin. you headed for the stocked cooler and grabbed two beers. as you stood, topper was making his way over.

“you have any plans after this?” he asked without much preamble.

you smiled, pulling the tops off and taking a sip from your own, eyeing him as you did. that flicker of heat made its way back between your thighs, warming you all over. you couldn’t deny the suggestion in his question excited you and you were giving yourself a mental pat on the back for being patient.

“nope, i’m all yours.”

topper smiled slowly, his eyes flicking to your lips as you licked them. okay, maybe jumping his bones here and now wasn’t a terrible idea. but you needed to string this out, you wanted it to last—whatever it was.

“i don’t want to leave yet though. i’ll come find you?” it implied that you’d make him wait longer than you really would, but it was satisfying to see him practically drool at the thought of what was to come.

liza was giddy when you went back over, either for the beer or when you told her that you’d be going off with topper for a little. she smirked, knowing exactly what for, but she didn’t mind. she wasn’t leaving anytime soon, and not without you.

you didn’t make topper wait long. when you were ready, another beer in and a relieved bladder, you touched topper’s elbow as he talked with his friends closer to the cooler. the ice was partly melted, but there were still plenty of drinks left. the fire was feeding off sweltering heat, and with the cold wind, it was perfect.

“hey, you ready?” you asked when topper turned to you.

you weren’t sure exactly what topper had in mind when he had asked you if you were busy for the rest of the night, but not having a clue thrilled you a little.

“yeah,” he nodded and took the last sip from his beer. his slid his hand up, capturing yours before tugging you along toward the parked cars. hardly anyone was over there. you could faintly hear voices and sounds from inside a few cars, some windows cracked. your fingertips warmed as your heart beat, pushing blood to every corner.

topper’s jeep came in sight and you tried to remember the inside. was there enough room for both of you in the back seat? or maybe you’d share one of the front ones. it didn’t matter to you, as long as he put his lips to use.

your back met the side of the jeep as topper leaned his hands on the window, caging you in. you were quick to close the space between you, either the beer taking the reins or your lack of patience from the past few hours of being here and having a staring contest with him. your breaths mingled and your hands grabbed fistfuls of his sweatshirt to pull him closer. the familiar tingles spread between your thighs and you wasted no time in showing him how impatient you were.

“i don’t think either of us is fit enough to drive, topper,” you breathed when you had the chance.

there was no way you could drive with everything you drank. topper tasted like the beer too, but you weren’t sure if he was fit enough to drive either. you didn’t want to chance it, nor could you wait that long.

“what do you want to do?” he asked against the skin of your neck, his nose skimming up the side. he pressed a few kisses, getting closer to your jaw.

you tilted your head back against the door and sighed, closing your eyes momentarily then opening them to find a few stars winking at you. there were so many once you focused on them. topper interrupted your gaze, pulling you by the back of your head to his lips. he kissed you as if you were his last meal, his tongue licking into your mouth. you moaned, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair. you remembered him being this much of a good kisser.

“let’s find a spot on the beach,” you suggested, only getting a kiss on the corner of his mouth before he pulled away.

his eyes were blown wide, his hair ruffled. if you looked hard enough, his cheeks were sure to be flushed, both from alcohol and excitement.

“seriously?” he asked, his hand stilling on the back of your head.

you laughed and nodded, brushing a lock of his hair. “yeah, why not?”

a cold wind blew, tossing your hair into your eyes. topper caught it and pushed it back to its spot behind your ear.

“i think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he joked.

you grinned and slid your hands down his chest. “do you have a towel?”

topper had to pick his jaw up off the gravel before he finally moved away from you and opened his jeep. he ruffled around in the back then finally pulled out a blanket.

“very resourceful,” you commented as he closed the door.

“never know when you might need it,” he said as he threw it around you, shielding your bare legs from the wind. he turned again to the jeep and bent over the driver’s seat to get something. you saw it was a condom when he turned back and closed the door.

“also resourceful.”

he laughed then took your hand back in his. you headed back toward the beach but in the opposite direction of where the bonfire was. it was quieter the further you got, nothing but the waves coming into the shore. it was darker too; all the more private.

topper took the blanket from you and settled it down. you took a seat as he fixed a corner, swiping sand that had gotten on to it. once he sat beside you, he pulled you back against his lips.

you knelt up and scooted closer, placing your hands on his shoulders for leverage as you swung a leg over his waist. you sat in his lap and hummed as you felt him against your thigh. he squeezed you closer in response.

“i’ve never fucked someone on a beach before,” you admitted as you slipped your hands under his sweatshirt and the t-shirt beneath, pushing them up.

“i’ve never fucked anyone outside before.”

“what?” you pulled away to look down at him, your hands freezing on his chest. he was breathing deeply and you swore you felt the patter of his heart against your fingertips. “really?”

“yeah,” he shrugged and glanced over your shoulder toward the water. “just never had the chance to try.”

“what do you mean? you live on an island.” you let his clothes fall back down, stopping above his belly button. “i’ve been here twice and i’ve seen at least twenty ideal places that would be perfect for it.”

“i don’t know, i never asked anyone and no one asked me.” he shrugged again and you knew you were looking way too into this, but it seemed impossible that he hadn’t done this at least once before. you knew that if you lived here, you would’ve done it countless times.

your hands slid back up. “well, tonight’s your lucky night.”

you pulled topper back to your lips, tongues meeting. his hands rubbed along your back and you couldn’t help but arch into him as he slipped them beneath your sweater. his hands were so warm that it felt as if he set fire to your skin. you moaned and sunk your teeth into his lip briefly. a shiver wrecked your body just as topper’s hands came around to your front, sliding up to your breasts. you felt your nipples peek at the contact and topper made it even worse when his thumbs brushed over them.

“christ, it’s cold,” you mumbled as another shiver came and went.

“mhmm,” he hummed. “i’m sure that’s what it is.”

you laughed and wanted to swat at him. instead, you swallowed that little bit of nerves edging close to the surface and reached a hand to his lap. you watched as topper’s lips parted as your hand squeezed him over his shorts. the fabric was soft as topper grew harder. you relished in his expression, the way his eyebrows were drawn together, and how his jaw flinched when he closed his mouth.

topper’s hands fell away as you stood. he looked ready to pull you back down until he realized what you were doing and watched closely as you pulled your shorts and underwear down together. you kicked them aside and shivered as another wind blew.

sitting over topper again, you knelt up onto your knees to pull his shorts down. you couldn’t help swallowing at the sight of him. as dark as it was, you could still see him pretty well. your hand wrapped around him, solid and warm in your palm. topper groaned and leaned back on his hands.

“where’s the condom?” you asked as you stroked him, not at all in a rush with your hand around him.

topper registered your question and patted around the blanket for a moment before holding a square packet between his fingers. you took it from him and bit down on an edge, ripping it open with your free hand. you took the rubber between your fingers and spat the packaging somewhere. topper’s breathing became swallow all the while you stroked him. you stopped and rolled the condom onto him then leaned forward for a kiss.

topper reciprocated, his hands grabbing ahold of your hips until he pulled away to look up at you.

“what if you get sand in your vagina?” he asked, an innocent tone wrapping around his voice.

you couldn’t help the smile or the way your eyebrows furrowed all the while wanting to laugh. that’s what he’s thinking about?

“nothing that hasn’t happened before. it usually takes a couple of days to get rid of but i’ll be fine.”

the topic didn’t stop there. “does it hurt?”

“no, i’ll be fine,” a small laugh slipped out. “that’s why we have a blanket. and i’m on top. can we stop talking about sand getting in my vagina now? it’s kind of killing the mood.”

“sorry,” he shook his head, an embarrassed expression taking form.

you snorted, laughter bubbling up your throat. how did that question even come about in his head? you supposed it was nice of him to care about such a thing. you hoped your laughter didn’t make him feel more embarrassed.

his expression morphed into an amused one and he joined in, laughing at his odd question. you both shook with laughter for a few moments until you calmed down. topper squeezed his fingers on your hips, dragging his palms down your thighs. you brought your lips back to his and your hands to his chest. pushing him gently, you went with him as he lay down. you stayed against him for a couple more seconds before sitting up over him and finding him in your hand again.

topper groaned and gripped your thighs as you brought him into your heat. you couldn’t find your breath as you took him all the way in and sat over him, feeling completely and utterly filled. he was in your stomach, under your skin, everywhere.

“fuck, yes,” you panted, branding your palms on his stomach, pushing his sweatshirt and shirt up again. he was flushed from head to toe, something you were slowly building up to be.

you started off rocking back and forth slowly, feeling him pull and glide inside of you. when you dragged your clit against his skin, which was getting hotter and hotter with the friction, you couldn’t help the way your body tightened around him.

“y/n. oh, fuck—you gotta bounce for me,” topper choked out underneath you, moving his hands to your waist to grip tightly.

you nodded without words, not really finding any with your tongue tied. your hands pushed against his stomach as you lifted yourself up, letting almost all of him leave you empty. then you slammed down, moaning as loud as you could. you didn’t care. not one bit. you were still aware of the bonfire happening yards away, but you didn’t care if someone from the party was walking this way and heard you. let them hear how good topper felt inside you.

a quicker pace was set, sweat building in the creases of your knees and under your hands planted against topper. you loved this. all you could think about was how good it felt, how you fucked topper hard and fast—and how you were getting to fuck him again. it was so much better than the first time, even though you loved having him behind you then. this was just as good.

topper was sitting up again, your sweater rubbing against his and your body feeling way too hot. his hands gripped your ass tightly, helping you rock your hips over him. you were close, closer every time your clit brushed against him at this angle.

it became too much very quickly. you held on to him by his hair at the back of his head, gripping so tightly your knuckles were probably white, and reached your other hand down to touch yourself. your moans were growing higher and more frequent and topper was full-blown panting in your face. when you reached your end, a strangled sound came out of you. you stilled over topper, pulling more of his hair as you came over him.

not long after when you were moving again over him, your mouth on his neck and arms around his shoulders, his grip tightened on your ass as he came. you hummed and gave a few pecks just before he let go and fell onto his back. you followed, moving off of him and laying on your side.

“how long are you here?” topper asked minutes later, his breathing leveling out.

“i leave sunday morning,” you said, blinking tired eyes open as a wind blew over you.

“can i see you again?”

you smiled, your eyes shifting to topper beside you. “don’t you mean can you fuck me again?”

his lips spread wide and if his eyes were open, you had a feeling he’d be rolling them. laughing, you pushed yourself onto your elbow and touched his cheek.

“liza is having a party tomorrow. you should come,” you said quietly, leaning down to brush your lips over his.

“okay.”

“that was easy.”

“it doesn’t take much to convince me,” his voice was tired, piquing your interest.

“am i that good?”

all you got in return was a low laugh.

“i’m taking that as a ‘hell yes’ so thank you very much.”

topper let out a noise just before he moved, pushing you onto your back. his lips landed over yours, gentle and thorough.

saturday

it was a blur of drinks and games and dancing at liza’s house. every room was filled and it was hot for a few hours until you stationed yourself out on the deck with topper. you could lie and say that you didn’t sit out there just to make out with him, but that’s exactly what you did. it was perfect—even more perfect when his shitty friends didn’t show up with him. if you hadn’t been so distracted by his mouth, you would’ve thanked him then and there.

hours later, you had met topper at the front door. you informed liza of your new plans and she was more than happy to get you out of her hair, especially when her eyes latched on to someone and she started to drool into her drink. you grinned fiendishly at her and quickly went on your way.

topper was unlocking his front door and your legs were still a little tingly from the drinks you had over the past few hours. your hand absentmindedly ran along his forearm, needing to feel him so you could stay grounded and alert.

“if you don’t open this door, i’m going to fall asleep right on this porch.”

topper laughed, his keys jingling in his hand. it was a few more seconds of him trying without a light until he eventually found the keyhole and the door swung open. there was a rug that the bottom of the door brushed over and topper walked ahead of you, leading you in by the arm you refused to let go of. he was warm and solid. if you let go, you might evaporate.

your eyes adjusted with the lack of light in the entryway as topper closed the door behind you, sliding the lock into place. your skin felt like it was humming, the hairs on your arm standing up as you stayed close to topper. his shoes scuffed as he kicked them off, his keys dropping onto a table near the door while his other hand wrapped around your wrist. he lured you in by heat alone and you leaned in. your lips landed on his shirt, but you moved them until you found warm skin past the neckline.

reaching down, you found the strap of your sandals and worked to get them undone. why you wore sandals was completely lost on you as you struggled. topper grabbed ahold of you so you wouldn’t fall while your lips pressed a few more kisses into his neck. his hands were searing against your shirt and your skin pricked with the need to have them everywhere.

you kicked off your shoes, feeling your bare foot brush other pairs as topper grabbed ahold of your neck. you didn’t know where he was leading you until his lips landed against your cheek. he adjusted to where he meant to land and opened your lips with his own, coaxing your tongue with his. you moaned as if you were melting, your hands moving along his back as your body relaxed into his. another noise slipped from you, your hands moving down to his hips. one of them you let venture further until you felt him straining against his jeans.

topper gasped, his breath fanning over your mouth and down your neck. you grinned as you squeezed him just so you could see how he’d react.

it was cut short by light flooding the room and burning behind your eyelids. you flinched, parting from topper and squinting.

you were doing so well with no interruptions.

“topper? oh—i’m sorry,” a voice came from your left and you held your eyes open long enough to see a woman standing there, her hand falling from the light switch.

you suddenly remembered where you were holding topper and you dropped your hand, a hot blush crawling up onto your cheeks. you shuffled away from topper faster than he did at composing himself. was it wishful thinking to hope this woman didn’t see where your hand was placed a second ago?

“mom,” topper breathed, hiding his lack of breath well. your own heart was beating so loudly in your ears you figured the woman could hear it too in the entryway.

you averted your eyes, embarrassment dousing you from head to toe at the fact that you’d been caught by topper’s mother.

“we’ll be in my room,” topper said. his hand engulfed yours and you couldn’t remember how to use your feet or legs. “night.”

you kept your head down as topper tugged you past his mother, her robe flowing with the movement. he guided you through the unlit house until you came to his room.

“christ,” he sighed and dropped your hand to close the door. “i’m sorry about that.”

“it’s inevitable when you live with parents,” you shrugged and laughed, looking over your shoulder as topper rubbed his hands down his face. when he dropped them, he shook his head with an amused smile.

you turned back to his room and glanced around, the light a little brighter from the open windows. the decorations were the same, but for the most part it didn’t look all that lived in. you moved to his bed and sat at the end of it, running your hands along the comforter and remembering the last time you were here.

your eyes found topper’s like a magnet. your skin pricked with that awareness of him. reaching, you pulled your shirt off and let it fall beside you. topper watched, his eyes following every movement you made, his gaze moving over you like liquid.

you held your hand out towards him, coaxing him over where you sat. he approached until he was in front of you and even then, you pulled him closer with your hands on his hips again. your eyes fluttered shut as he came between your legs and touched your face, bending down to plant kisses on your forehead, cheeks, and nose. your thighs tightened around him, your hand dropping back to its original spot before you were interrupted. topper kissed you on the mouth then, his tongue hot and invading.

you pushed your palm into him a few times and rubbed until his breath was heavy in your mouth. even though you were kissing him and delighting in the ways he could use his tongue, your mouth felt dry for him. a moment later, your fingers glided up to the button of his jeans, working determinedly to unfasten them.

when his shirt was off and his jeans were unbuttoned, you nudged him backward, slipping from the bed and onto your knees. you pressed your lips along his stomach, feeling it tighten under your mouth as his hands brushed your hair back.

“tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” you said quietly, looking up at him as your fingers fisted the waistband of his jeans, slipping into his boxers too.

topper heaved a breath and nodded. you pressed another kiss just beside his belly button as you tugged on his bottoms, pulling them past his hips and leaving them to rest just above his knees.

you didn’t waste any more time. you took him into your mouth within the first few seconds of him smacking his stomach. he moaned with your lips around him and held your face as you licked him thoroughly. you couldn’t stop once you started and it took everything in you not to give him that release as his hand tightened on your face and his hips began to move.

he didn’t protest or get upset when you pulled away, licking your lips and standing. he just kissed you deeply and you wondered if he liked the taste of himself in your mouth. you certainly did.

all of your blood was gathered at your center. your skin was bubbling to a boil and topper helped you cool down, shedding the rest of the clothes between you. your hands wandered all over him as you sat back on the bed, pulling him with you.

you separated for only a second to kiss just under his ear, panting, “i want you inside me. now. i have an IUD.”

topper’s hands paused, his fingertips brushing the underside of your breast. “no condom?” he asked, pulling away further to meet your eyes.

you nodded, biting your lip to keep from putting him inside you now. “as long as you’re okay with it?”

“are you sure?” his eyebrows furrowed and you couldn’t tell if he was worried about you or if he really didn’t want to.

you nodded again as you were having trouble finding words without your breath. “have you been tested lately?”

“before i came home. i’m clean,” he said, his hands moving again and squeezing your thighs.

you grinned as your stomach rolled. you pulled him back to you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and smiling against his lips. “me too,” you managed to say and laughed as the excitement poured over.

topper’s skin suddenly felt too hot, but you couldn’t pull your hands away from him if you tried. more blood rushed in between your legs. topper kissed you a few times before pulling away and leaning forward, his hand moving to your lower back to hold you upright while his other landed on the comforter to hold himself up. you drew your legs up around him and tugged him closer, breathing heavily as you anticipated his next move.

he swallowed thickly and averted his eyes down, his hand leaving your skin to grab ahold of himself. you bit your lip as you watched, seeing him swollen and ready and practically dripping. your stomach rolled into a tight ball as his hips grew closer and you bit your lips shut as a noise of surprise left you, floating around the room, when topper dragged his head along your folds painstakingly slow.

as much as you wanted to close your eyes to completely let your senses take over, you lifted them to topper’s face. he closed his eyes as he poked his head at your entrance. when he started to slip inside slowly, his mouth opened and his hand went back to hold you. you held your breath as you felt him inch after inch, filling you and stretching you.

his head fell to your shoulder once he was completely inside, a muffled curse leaving his lips.

“oh my god,” you said at the same time as he said, “god, you feel amazing.”

his hips retracted slowly, just as slow as how he entered, and his lips guided back to yours.

“c-can you move back a little?” he asked. the angle was probably straining him unlike you.

you nodded and didn’t have to do all that much as his hand kept you close to him, keeping himself inside of you, as you moved further onto the bed. you laid on your back and moaned as topper started to move, pinning your hips below his.

“you need to be quiet,” he said.

“why?”

“because my mom is right down the hall.”

“so? she obviously knows what we’re doing.”

“still.”

“oh, topper,” you moaned a little louder, a smile curling the corners of your lips.

topper’s hand landed over your mouth. you laughed into his palm and opened up to bite on his finger.

“you should move that hand a little lower,” you suggested, rolling your hips into his.

topper laughed breathily and a moment later, moved his hand to your neck. his hips drew back then and he thrusted, harder than before.

“oh, fuck,” you panted, tightening your hold on him.

“you like that?” he asked, his fingers flexing on your throat.

“mhm,” you managed, your face screwing up. “just like that.”

you sucked in a gasp, your breath staying in your lungs as topper did it again. you couldn’t look at him, couldn’t do anything but feel everything he was doing to you from your throat to him between your thighs. your back arched, pushing your breasts into his chest. you cried out the next time he thrust, hitting you so deeply, your nipples peeked to hardened points. fuck.

“don’t stop,” you couldn’t stop gasping. “please, don’t stop. it feels so good.”

tears pricked your eyes as he did it again, picking up a rhythm and sticking to it. his hand let go of your throat and gathered your hands into his, pinning them above your head as he fucked into you. the harder he went, the more your nails dug into the backs of his hands. his fingers tightened over yours and you cried out with your hips smacking. he didn’t cover your mouth this time, suddenly not caring if his mom heard you. you didn’t care either, you wanted this to go on all night. hopefully it would.

tears spilled when he didn’t let up his grip or his pace. they fell more as he drove into you quicker. it hurt so good, you couldn’t breathe. you didn’t dare open your eyes to see if he was enjoying it too. you hoped he was, you hoped he was loving pinning your hands down, driving into you like an animal. you didn’t know topper had this in him.

his hand let go of one of yours but you left it where it was as his thumb flicked your clit. your breaths grew higher within seconds and you tightened around him, your free hand flying to his arm where your nails dug in deep. you couldn’t stop the cry bubbling in your chest even if you wanted to. it was going to come out whether you liked it or not and topper wasn’t doing anything to muffle it.

“fuck—i’m going to come,” he sighed, his voice strained. was he losing it too? “come for me, please, baby. come with me.”

“top—” your muscles spasmed and everything exploded. you cried out his name however many times as you came over him, feeling him do the same as he thrusted and emptied inside you. his spurts were heavy and warm as his face buried into your neck, his mouth slick one moment then his teeth latching on to you. you grabbed the back of his head and pulled at his hair as he bit you, not hard enough to break the skin, but it still hurt so good.

“oh my god,” you panted as topper lay limp on you. you could feel both of your orgasms dissipating as your juices mixed and dripped out of you.

having let go of your neck, topper licked over the pulsing spot and lifted his head up to look down at you.

“are you okay?” he asked, sweat collected along his hairline. his thumb brushed your drying tears away.

“that was—i—topper,” you shook your head, wishing you could find the words. “i feel very good right now.”

he laughed, shaking your body with his and making you moan as you felt him rub inside of you. “i’m glad,” he said, kissing the underside of your jaw. “i think we need water and snacks so i’m going to go get some.”

“mmm. that’s a good idea.” you couldn’t bring yourself to wipe his sweat away just to feel it on your fingertips. you were spent.

he smiled and pecked your numb lips before sliding out of you and getting up.

cleaned up and under the covers, topper laid out an array of snacks and water bottles. you sat propped up against his pillows while he lay on his side, his head propped against his hand.

“will you come back next summer?” he asked, popping a piece of fruit into his mouth.

you reached for the cereal bowl of chocolate and stopped the smile from stretching across your face. “maybe.”

“i was looking for an answer more along the lines of yes.”

“you’ll have to be more persuasive then,” you hummed and chewed.

“i can be persuasive.” he was grinning and you couldn’t help thinking that he never looked better. tired, hair messy, dressed in just boxers, completely sated.

“oh yeah?” you raised a brow at him.

“mhmm,” he nodded, putting the fruit down and moving onto his hands and knees to crawl towards you. he grabbed ahold of the comforter and pulled it back a little, revealing your chest to the cool air. his head lowered to press a single kiss to the swell of your breast. then he moved to the other. he pressed a final kiss to your shoulder.

“how’s that?”

you shrugged the shoulder he just kissed and kept the smile off your face. mostly.

topper grinned again and it reached his eyes. he looked over you, down your chest, then slid his hand under the blanket to your thigh. “am i getting closer?”

you gasped and grabbed onto the back of his neck as his fingers ran up the inside of your thigh. heat swirled between your legs. “definitely.”

⭐️taglist of beauties & babes⭐️

@tovvaa @taylathornton @dontjinx-it @moniamaybank @drewstarkeygf @clearbolts @jjmaybankzz @macey730 @twinklelilstarkey @disrecpectful @mrs-cameron @jjcanloveme @igotmajordaddyissues @ohhersheybars @malar-region @honeyyhemmings @dvakat

[imaginesmai]

Arvin Russell - The right time

SO YEAH I SAW THE DEVIL ALL THE TIME AND I LOVED IT!! My opinion about it is at the end! In case you haven’t seen it and you still want to read this, you can skip it by not looking at the A/N. Let me know what you think about the film in the comments, please! Or just message me! I’m feeling like writting about him, so please 

SEND YOUR REQUESTS.

Plot: Arvin’s father always told him to wait for the right time, and he thought it was the only right way to do things. Now, when you’ve been hurt because of him, he’s ready to take the matters into his own hands.

WARNINGS: TDATT SPOILERS. Mentions of rape. Murder. 

Arvin didn’t know if the preacher had heard him or not coming in, because he hadn’t turned around to look at him. If anything, that only made him angrier. He was sure that if he had heard him and looked at him, he wouldn’t have spared him another glance. Because Arvin Russell wasn’t of his interest, not because of the money and the gender. The last thought made him tighten his grip around the gun, willing himself not to shoot him before the right time.

Since Lenora’s death, he had been waiting for the right time. That was what his father told him; to wait for the right time, and then to avenge yourself. He had been doing pretty good with that mantra, or at least most of the times. Arvin had followed the preacher to his house and to his adventures with young women. He had watched as he fucked a young girl from Lenora’s class and then went back to his wife, scoffing when dinner wasn’t ready and urging her to satisfy him when bed time arrived. He had held his gun tight to his chest, knowing the right time would eventually come; and then, he had hated his father more than ever, because listening to him had almost caused another precious death.

“Arvin!” his grandma called from downstair. Quickly, he closed the notebook where he was keeping track of the preacher’s actions. “Boy, Mr. Y/L/N is here!”

Arvin frowned at the mention of your father. You had known each other for your whole life, so he knew your family story; that your mother had left you after promising your father that she would leave her adventurous life when she got pregnant. She left with some young man that was going to travel the world, and your father had locked himself up in a unbreakable shell, forgetting about his eleven’s years old daughter.

Not once he had seen your father outside your house, you being in charge of dropping food and money for him. Not matter how many times Arvin had tried to convince you that you would be better on your own. Even living with him, once your relationship wasn’t just friends anymore. But you had just shook your head softly and told him that you couldn’t leave him, not yet.

So it was strange that it was your father and not you who was knocking on his door. He had agreed to meet you that morning to show you finally what he was on lately, since he couldn’t hide anything; but you hadn’t come, with the excuse of visiting Lenora’s grave once more. You were her best friend, so after offering to go with you, he agreed on meeting you at night.

Briefly, he looked to the box where you two were saving a bit of your earnings for your life together. He doubted your father knew about it, so he got up and walked down the stairs.

“Here he is” Emma smiled at him. “Well, I’m leavin’ you to it. I’m in the kitchen”

“Arvin” your father called his name, voice croaked from not using it. “God, you’re a man now”

Arvin gave your father a small smile. The man, once handsome, broad and tall, was now hunched shadow. He had a several days long beard, skinny arms and wide clothes. Mr Y/L/N was hiding his hands behind his body, only making him look worse. Still, Arvin extended one hand and offered him a shake, greeting him.

“I’m – uh, sorry, you didn’t have to come down. But Emma started calling you before I could explain” he gave him an awkward chuckle.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Y/L/N. Is there… anything I can help with?”

“Is Y/N here?”

The question caught Arvin off guard, because usually you spent days in Arvin’s house and your father didn’t notice as long as there was food on the fridge. Lately, the man had been doing an effort of getting better, and some nights you had told Arvin how he had attempted to cook for you. From there to wondering where you were there was a huge step, and for a second Arvin tried to sniffle for any track of alcohol. There was none.

“Usually, I wouldn’t really care but, you know – getting better and all” he tried to explain himself. “She spends most of the time here, so I thought that maybe she’s around? I haven’t seen her since yesterday’s afternoon”

The last part caught Arvin attention. He talked with you last time before starting yesterday’s shift, which was before noon. And you told him you were going to spend the rest of the day with your father, and that the next morning you intended to pay Lenora a visit. He hadn’t worried about it, because he had been busy and trusted you to take care of yourself. But if you hadn’t slept on your house, then there was something to worry about.

“She… Y/N told me she was goin’ to spend the mornin’ in the graveyard” Arvin mumbled.

“Oh, she went yesterday after you left her home” he explained, making Arvin’s blood run cold. “I had things to do so she told me she’d go and then pay you a visit”

Your father said something else, but Arvin wasn’t listening anymore. There was another person he had missed last night; the preacher, who usually went home somewhere near eight, didn’t appear until very much later. He knew because he had been waiting outside his house, watching his wife sitting in front of a cold dinner with tears on her eyes. He had thought nothing of it at first, but now, he choked on his breath knowing what could have happened.

Arvin’s body collided with your father when he walked past him and ran out of the house, hearing the man calling out for him. His grandma also looked through the kitchen window, screaming his name before Arvin disappeared into the field that went to the town’s graveyard.

Thinking about it, Arvin knew it was like finding a needle in a haystack. Knockemstiff was full of sinners, bad people and wicked intentions. Even if you didn’t go to highschool no more and worked to provide to your father, Arvin had had to deal with a few men who thought you were available, whether you wanted or not. There were a lot of people who could have hurt you, a lot of reasons why you didn’t go back home last night, and none of them made sense in his head.

You knew how to defend yourself, you had a car that could help you to escape any delicate situation, and you never got lost. Not once you had wandered off without telling anyone, not even your father. Even if he wasn’t listening or paying attention, you always told him where you were going.

Thoughts ran past his mind at the same time Arvin ran past his neighbours and cars, trying not to collide with anyone but finding it difficult, since he couldn’t see much past his oncoming tears. Loosing Leonora had been one thing. His sister, his family and the person he had fought nail and tooth to protect for so many years. He had been waiting for the right moment to avenge her, to put a bullet in between the preacher’s eyes, or maybe a few. One for every second she had suffered hanging from that rope.

And he swore, that if he had had anything to do with your disappearance, there wouldn’t be an inch of his body untouched by the bullets.

He wasn’t as late as he could have been, he guessed. The police was warned, a group of villagers offered to help, and Arvin himself kept running in circles around the graveyard for the whole day. Even Grandma, who wasn’t in the best shape, had helped into the search. And she had been the one who had found you, maybe because she had just this woman-ly instinct or because God had wanted it to be a woman who found your naked, bruised body and not some sinful man.

Arvin had arrived then – and sure, you were alive, recovering in his room because he didn’t want to leave your side ever again, barely saying a word and healing from the bruised kidney. But you weren’t fine, you weren’t smiling at Arvin and cradling his head when he lost his track. It had been obvious what had happened that day, why it had taken Arvin a few hours to find each piece of your clothes and where the bruises around your thighs came.

Your father had dissapeared again, locking himself in his room and forgetting about his daughter once more. But Arvin had been there every second for the past week, getting you to eat what you could and holding you tight through the nightmares. 

The bench he was sitting on creaked under his fingers when Arvin thought about your sobs, how your tried to hide beside him when last week you complained about Virginia heat. The preacher looked back to Arvin, who wasn’t visible because of the cap.

“Excuse me, preacher” Arvin’s voice didn’t waver. “You got time for a sinner?”

Upon hearing Arvin’s voice, and knowing it wasn’t anyone from his interest – a girl – he turned around and motioned for him to keep going. It wasn’t any more about Lenora´s death, because Arvin would have had enough with killing him. Maybe making him suffer for a bit, making him feel the desperation of knowing death was the only answer. Now, however, Arvin wanted to cut off every inch of skin that had touched yours.

“Go ahead” preacher Teagardin told him, going back to his lecture.

Arvin took his time, talking about everything that the preacher had done of thought about since he put a foot in Knockemstiff. He talked about how the preacher forced his wife to please him late at night, how he ordered her around as if she was just a servant. He talked about how he liked young girls, those who were innocent enough that didn’t have to be forced, just manipulated. About the pregnancy, and how he cowered away once his decisions had repercussions.

He watched from behind his cap how the preacher left the book on the bench, his eyes widening in size as he realised the sins Arvin was talking about were his. He turned around finally, locking eyes with Arvin, but not recognizing him. Why would he, though, since everything he looked at were Arvin’s precious girls. First his sister, and now his girl. As he continued, he shifted the gun on his lap, wanting to end his story before blowing his brains out.

“And there is this other girl. She ain’t like the rest, cause she doesn’ fall for the lies. So I decided to approach her when she was alon’, kicked her head open and brought her to the back of my car. Forcer her and left her in the woods” Arvin’s finished. “Didn’ care if she was a ‘right or not. Just fucked her good and left her to die”

“Who are you, boy?” the preacher chuckled awkwardly, getting up. “Why don’t you take off your cap?”

“She was found, thankfully. Naked, bruised, unconscious. She doesn’t talk no more, just cries” Arvin’s voice was full of venom, finally taking off his cap. “But I don’ care, cause I ain’t responsible for that neither”

The preacher went to jump forward, maybe hoping to kill Arvin, scare him away or knock him unconscious. If it came to Arvin’s word against his, probably just a few people would believe Arvin; but the truth would come out eventually, and both of them knew it. No one would ever know what the preacher would have done then, because true to his word, Arvin Russell didn’t leave an inch of the preacher’s skin untouched from the bullets.

-

Later that night, Arvin walked into his dark room, knowing it would be his last night in Knockemstiff. He still didn’t have a plan, didn’t have a way to leave without being chased or hurting his family. For that night, he was just a scared boy whose responsibilities would have to wait.

He climbed into the room through the window, not making any noise and avoiding his grandma and grand uncle. If they didn’t know he was there that night, they wouldn’t have anything against the police; they would be safe. They would be just fine with the money he was leaving behind, probably a bit tight but enough to have a good life. The next problem, however, was harder. He let you nest against him when he crawled into bed, let you hide your face against his neck and not talk for another night of what happened that day. Not that there was much to talk, because it wouldn’t happen again.

Not knowing if you heard him or not, Arvin told you what he had done. Tears ran down his cheeks when he told you how he couldn’t stop pulling the trigger on him, how he would do it again and again, and how he felt guilty about not doing it sooner. The same as your father, he expected you not to hear a word of what he had said. But you surprised him when your shaky, thin hand made its way to his cheek and made him look at you.

“You can’t say anything, Arv” your whispered, the pale cheeks a contrast with your hard voice. “We need to run away”

“W-we?” Arvin frowned, confused. “You can’t – darlin’, I-I can’t… you and, uh, we –“

“You’re not leaving without me, Arvin Russell”

For the first time in a week, you pressed your lips against him. He had almost forgotten how it felt to have something good, not just rage and pain. Arvin let more tears fall as he slowly cradled the back of your head, not wanting to move in case it would end. It didn’t last longer, anyway; soon, you were tearing away. But rather than just cuddling his side, you laid your head against his shoulder and hug his middle.

He had thousands of thoughts that he wanted to say. That he was sorry, for not telling you sooner what he was doing and for not taking better care of you. That he should have taken care of the preacher on the begging, and not trusting on the advice of someone who killed himself in front of their kid. But he didn’t say anything, just hug you close, knowing there was no way he would leave the town without you.

Because together, everything felt like the right time.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists​, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Tom Holland and Peter Parker Taglist

@delicately-important-trash​​

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@smilexcaptainx​​​​​

@aikaterrina​​​​​

@zalladane​​​​

@gypsystuf​​​​​ (since you didn’t answer me, I just put you on the general taglist. Let me know if you want to change!)

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A/N (my opinion on tdatt):

So, WOW. I saw it last night because I don’t have Netflix, so I had to meet a friend to watch it. And it was - wow. The way Tom Holland and Robert Pattinson go out of their way to work their accents and roles is amazing. Even though I hate the preacher’s character (who doesn’t), I loved how Robert works with him and makes him his. He’s always an amazing actor, but this time he outdid himself!

And Tom... Well, he got me with the first word he said. That part when he’s with Lenora and gets beaten up... and then, the way he avengers her from the bullies is amazing. I also loved watching how he had a relationship with a fem character that wasn’t romantical. He showed every emotion, thought and action with just his face, and I love him for it.

I don’t think it’s a film that should be seen just becuase he’s in it. It’s amazing, breath-taking and beautiful. I love this kind of films, but if you don’t is understable. It’s quite violent and can tigger anybody. Still, I’ll give it 8/10 - becuase I would have loved to see more of other characters! Message me if you want to talk about it

[thiserichann]

cookies and cream - lee jeno

reader x jeno

genre: smut, strangers to fuck buddies, humor if you squint hard enough

word count: 4k-ish

warnings: recklessness (she met with a stranger online, don’t do it kids) excessive lying, 18+ scenes that includes: oral (f receiving) face riding, soft dom!jeno?

This is merely a work of fiction and is not meant to hurt the image of Jeno and NCT. Again, don’t be as reckless as OP. This was just a fantasy of mine that I’ve been dying to get out of my system.

Holy fuck.

That's the only word that you've managed to utter when you decided to check your messages that morning.

You got bored in the middle of the class and decided to sneak a peek on your phone to pass the time. The class is recorded anyways so you can always just go back to the parts of the lessons that you've missed.

But holy fuck.

You never expected to see THAT so early in the morning.

"Miss Y/N?"

You snapped back to reality and stopped malfunctioning for a second when somebody called your name. Everyone including your professor remained quiet and all eyes are on you.

"Oh. Sir what’s the question again?"

You answered nervously as you tried to review your notes and backtrack on what he is discussing a few moments ago.

"I see that you're distracted in the middle of my class again. Mind sharing what you're occupied with?"

"Uhm. I was watching KPOP fancams, sir."

"Fancams won't get you into law school, Miss Y/N. Phones off please."

You tucked your phone back to your pocket and never picked it up again since. The professor started blabbering again but no information is being retained on your head. It stayed that way at your other classes.

You wished you were looking at some KPOP fancams earlier. You’ve watched fancams at class before and got away with it unscathed.

Oh no. It was a goddamn dick pic.

A good one, too.

It was from a guy that you met in a kink site a few days ago. You created the account out of boredom and expected nothing to come out from it. It’s all the flirting and sexting without all the unnecessary commitment

It only took you a few minutes to set up an account. For some privacy, you made a random birthdate and a random nickname, because like hell would you share your real information to these people. You also picked a racy picture of a lady that looked a bit like you and passed it off as your own.

Within minutes, your inbox is flooded with messages. Most of them, however, are from men who are old enough to be your father.

Well, you were bored, so you entertained everyone and then went on back to your boring, vanilla life. A few political history and theory books later, you went back to see which ones messaged you on the site.

And that's where you've met him.

The most gorgeous piece of meat alive.

He seems like a nice guy. He introduced himself as LJ and your age aren’t that far off from each other. LJ is the only one who actually engaged in conversation besides "want to fuck?" or "are you horny?"

As soon as you started messaging back and forth, you scrolled on his profile to see what he looks like. The only thing is, his profile looked a whole lot like those high fashion male underwear photoshoots.

It was an array topless pictures (presumably his, you just can’t be bothered to check if it is actually his). It featured his sculpted abs and biceps, cropped up all the way to his full lips. Despite not seeing his whole face, you knew very well that he’s a hunk. To say you were intrigued is an understatement.

Since then, you've been talking back and forth through Snapchat (your secret one because you're not stupid) and sent him actual pictures of yourself, completely omitting the face. You took one from your bed, your bathtub, and probably every part of your house that you felt is sexy enough to be included on the pics.

You can't tell him if it's him or the repressed sexual urges finally manifesting itself after more than a year of not getting laid, but every text to and from him made your heart race. It was something that you looked forward to every hour everyday.

Hours went by that you totally forgot leaving him on read. You climbed up to your bed to rest your back to the headboard and opened your unread messages.

You: Hey svlr. School stuff.

  He opened the chat and started typing right away.

  LJ: Oh good. I thought I did something wrong to upset you.

You: Not at all. I loved the pic by the way. It literally knocked my socks off.

LJ: Just the socks?

You: You can take the rest of it off yourself ;)

You scoffed. The flirty banter has always been there ever since you started talking but nothing really came out of it.

LJ: If only I could :(

You: I know. Covid’s a bitch.

You set your phone aside for a second to go to the bathroom. On your way, you picked up some snacks at the fridge and sat back down to your bed, only to find your phone blowing up.

LJ: If you're down maybe we could meet

LJ: It's totally fine if you don't want to

LJ: I just made it weird, didn't I?

LJ: I'm so sorry I brought it up in the first place

LJ: I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable

LJ: Hello?

LJ: I'm really sorry

You: Chill. I'm right here

You: I just went to the bathroom

LJ: Oh

You: I'd be lying if I said I don't want to meet you as well

You: Well... I wouldn't write off the idea

You: But with the Covid

LJ: Thoughts?

You: I don't think it's a great idea

The screen says Seen right at the bottom but it took him a couple more minutes before finally replying.

LJ: I understand

LJ: But in case you change your mind, I'll leave the time and place up to you

LJ: I’ll take care of the rest

LJ: Deal?

You: I'll sleep on it.

You: Speaking of sleep, I gotta go. Morning class.

LJ: Okay. I guess this is good night then

You didn't, in fact, talk to him the day after.

You'd be lying if you said that you didn't want to see him and his abs in real life. But as someone who overthinks a lot, you just can't shake off the risk.

You: Good night. Talk to you tomorrow.

What if he's not really the guy in the pics? Or he’s psycho in real life? What if he's infected the virus?

You sighed.

Why must some global pandemic ruin your sex life?

You waited until the end of the day before you finally replied to LJ. The last thing that he texted was a brief good morning from earlier in the day and nothing else. He’s actually a pretty sweet guy, totally not worth ghosting, and you actually liked talking to him as a friend that you can share your sentiments with.

With your guilt finally eating you up, you took a break from your assigned readings and sat back at your bed to rest for the day. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a minute, thinking of something to say to him. It took you a few tries before finally hitting the send button.

You: So, I thought about it

LJ: And?

You: I need to know I can trust you

LJ: Okay. How?

You: I don’t know. Send me a proof that you’re real. Get tested?

You: Is that fine with you?

Within a split second, he sent his reply.

He actually did it.

You couldn’t believe it but he actually did it.

LJ: Consider it done.

He got tested for physical, including the virus test, and passed with flying colors. He even sent you a vid of him inside a medical clinic.

He just sent the uncensored results this morning where you can clearly see his real name.

Lee Jeno.

LJ.

Seems legit.

Well, the uncreative nickname shouldn’t matter now because the results meant only one thing.

You’re gonna have to push through with your promise.

You got ready around noon that day. You can’t remember the last time that you actually got ready to meet someone that’s not a delivery guy or a relative passing on something to your family.

As someone who overthinks a lot, you actually got everything covered. You picked a place near a restaurant to eat. The police station is just a few blocks away just in case something happens, and right in front of a library…

“Where’re are you off to?”

You raised your backpack to show to your mother.

“I’m off to the library. I needed to get these renewed. Maybe pick up a novel or two.”

She looks at you from head to toe, eyeing that incredibly loose hoodie, faded denim jeans, some worn out sneakers that looked like it’s supposed to be thrown away years ago and a medical mask that covers about ¾ of your bare face. It’s just your usual attire whenever you go out for errands.

She just nodded and went back to watching her favorite soap opera.

“It’s nice that you’re out of your room for once. Take some cookies from the kitchen so you’ll have something to eat in case you get hungry.”

… as an alibi to get away from your strict parents.

As soon as you left the door and made sure that you’re out of sight, you found the nearest public toilet and grabbed a whole other outfit from your backpack. The hoodie is replaced by a white, ruffled see-through blouse and you ditched the jeans for a tight skirt that’s at least four inches above your knees. You tousled your hair a little bit and put on some powder and tiny hint of lipstick before putting your facemask back on again.

It’s been a while since you’ve done an elaborate scheme like this. Your skills got a little bit rusty, but they always work.

Sometimes you wonder if you’re really meant to be lawyer or a criminal instead.

You stepped out of the toilet and blended right back into society.

Now all you have to do is find wherever the hell LJ is.

Jeno sat anxiously as he waited for you right inside the café. He’s on his fourth cup of coffee but it didn’t do anything to calm his nerves down (geez I wonder why).

You: I’m almost at the café.

He’s been staring at his phone the whole time. Once he received your message, which is a pic of you in the bathroom after the outfit change, he almost choked on his drink.

This message sent him on a panic as he turned his camera on to see how he looked. He did some minor adjustments to his hair and he wiped off his eyeglasses clean with the sleeves of his hoodie (which did nothing for him by the way) and then casually sat down and played it off cool like he hasn’t been waiting for you for over an hour.

On your perspective, you walked inside the café and looked around for LJ. Fortunately, there was only guy inside the café, twiddling with his phone on his hands and as he kept on peeking through the glass windows as if he’s looking for someone.

From afar, he actually looked really cute. His appearance, a shy, nerdy dude with glasses, looked way off from the fuckboy image that you expected him to have in reference to the messages that you’ve been getting from him.

It’s always the quiet ones that are kinky. You should know, you are one.

You walked over to his table and tapped his shoulders to get his attention.

He froze for a moment before he finally managed to turn around and face you.

“You’re actually here.”

“I know. I’m just as surprised as you are.”

tap tap tap tap

The room is so quiet that the only thing you can hear is the sound of your heels tapping against the tiled floor. You can say that that is one of your observable annoying habits tapping your foot on the floor when you're a nervous wreck.

Sighing in retaliation, you removed your hoodie, fanning yourself as you tried to relax and get comfy on the hotel couch (which should be comfortable enough since you paid a shit ton of money on that room), switching the TV on to get your mind off of things. The lackluster array of shitty sitcoms didn’t distract you at all, but it instead reminded you of the reasons why you’re in that room in the first place.

Having nothing to do to pass the time, you paced back and forth in the room, finally sitting down once you realized that it looks way worse than you just tapping your foot. You folded your arms right across your chest, looking at the watch from time to time but the hands of the clock seem to be moving slower the more you stare at it.

Quarantine started almost a year ago and it's been very hard for you. Sexually. It's been almost a year since you've been touched by a man and you’re more than ready to jump on anyone’s dick at any this point,

Too bad that that dick is taking his sweet time in the bathroom.

tap tap tap tap

Your foot found its rhythm once again, only this time, you’re not nervous anymore. Your patience is wearing thin.

As if summoned by the constant tapping, the guy comes out of the bathroom, just casually drying himself while wearing nothing but the towel dangerously hanging on his waist and a boyish smile on his lips.

No biggie.

"Hey."

Suddenly, you’re not tapping anymore.

Head empty, just thoughts of a hot guy patting down a towel all over his toned body.

“I hope I didn’t make you wait for too long.”

He spoke, tossing aside the towel on his hands on the sofa, finally giving you a full view of him and all his glory.

You must admit, you’re skeptical at first. The guy that’s been sending you faceless thirst traps just days ago, telling you how he’d fuck you senseless looked a lot different from the guy who entered the hotel room just a moment ago.

He came in wearing those black oversized hoodies that did a great job in hiding his best features. His hair was a bit long for your taste, covering half of his face while the face mask hid the other.

But this man right here in front you, he’s Adonis.

You unconsciously bit your lower lip, earning a chuckle from the guy.

“I’m guessing that you’d like to start now?”

You nodded, the tension and awkwardness rendering you unable to speak.

He smiles as he takes the remote from you, turning off the television because the main show is about to start.

You started to tense up again, eyes wide as you realized that he’s now right beside you, wrapping his arms around you as soon as he sat down. He leans over, soft lips coming into contact with your exposed neck and shoulders, landing small pecks all over.

You sat there breathless as he slowly ran his fingers to the side of your thighs, tracing circles at it while giving small, reassuring kisses on your neck and shoulders. It’s as if he’s asking you for your consent, waiting for you to open up to him before he makes a move.

He got his answer when you turned around to face him, running your fingers into his cheeks before cupping his face, your lips finally touching his. He moved in the same pace as earlier, slow and calculating. You got a bit impatient once again, biting his lower lips gently to let him know that he can do more.

He grabbed you by the waist and successfully placed you on top of him. The kiss got even more sloppy as you ran your hands through nape, then into his soft locks. His hands travelled once again, finger running through legs again, stopping as soon as he reached the hem of your skirt, flipping it up to reveal the thin lace material that barely covered your core. You took that as initiative to remove the towel on his waist and grinded against his growing member, the friction and heat enough to earn a groan out of him.

He held your waist once again, firmly this time, halting your movement completely.

You broke away from the kiss, staring him in the eyes to read his face.

“Something wrong?”

“Hold tight.”

You were about to ask about what hold tight mean, but your arms cling unto him involuntarily as he lifts the both of you out of the sofa.

Jeno laid you gently in the bed, making sure not to break eye contact as he does so. He looked like he's about to eat you alive, which is enough to send flush to your cheeks.

“I would’ve loved to bend you over that sofa, but I think it’s just proper that our first time will be on the bed.”

"God. You're beautiful."

He then ran his fingers towards the thin fabric of your blouse, feeling every part of your torso like he's memorizing every detail of it. His hands then travelled in your chest, squeezing the swell of your breasts on each hand, fingers shaking as he does so. It felt like an artist admiring his delicate work of art.

He situated himself between your legs, taking a moment to admire you first before doing anything else.

He started to run his hand on your cleavage and stopped on the uppermost button of your blouse, taking his time to remove all of them and placing a kisses at the exposed skin. After all of the buttons are taken care of, you lifted your body up and slid off the fabric. Your black lacy bra finally made its appearance. You took the liberty of taking that off too, as slow and as you possibly can.

 Jeno just stared at your body in awe, breathing heavily as his eyes scanned your naked glory.

 "Gorgeous."

He said under this breath before leaning down to claim your lips once again. You're turned on by how much attention he's giving your body now. You're usually loud in bed but his gestures are making you bashful. You've never felt this beautiful before.

You can feel his hands trembling as it travels all over your body, his kisses getting even more needy. There was moans of satisfaction every time he would lick your lips. Jeno was kissing you like you were oxygen and he needed to breath.

His hands travelled south, running across your thigh and your now aching core. You're about to remove your skirt and underwear but he stopped your hands midway.

"Keep it."

He took your hands away from your skirt and placed them just above your head.

"Just sit there and relax baby. Let me treat you."

You did just like he told you and gave him full control of your body.

"Good girl."

His lips brushed your ears, whispering sweet nothings about how beautiful you are under him. His kisses then went down to your neck, using his tongue and teeth, marking everything he can get his mouth on with his saliva. Meanwhile, his hands finally touched you down there, massaging your still clothed wetness.

His middle and index finger felt your slit, moving it in swift motion in search for your clit.

"Oh my god. That's it."

You gasped as his fingers finally hit the right spot, tossing your head back as his fingers made circles at your bundle or nerves.

You opened your legs more, leaning on your arms on your back, head tossed back and eyes closed as you feel your impending orgasm.

He dipped his hand inside your underwear and collected some of your essence with his fingers. The mental picture of him licking his fingers deliciously is enough to get you off for weeks.

It didn't take long before he took your panties off and his ducked his head down. He opened your legs once again and licked one long stripe on your core, making sure to taste all of you. You sat there and watch as he hungrily takes all of you in his mouth, acting like your pussy is a full course meal and he's been starving for years.

Within moments, you've become a moaning, toe curled mess. You ran your fingers to his blonde hair, guiding him on how to move his tongue and fingers on you. At one point, he bit some of your sensitive skin, making you scream a string of curses under your breath.

"Stop stop stop."

You grab a fistful of his hair and he paused from what he was doing. You pushed him gently away from you, leaving him staring at you confusedly. The confusion didn't last long when you flipped your current position, you're now on top.

"Can I ride your face?"

At this point, you're bold and horny enough to use your words and ask him. He just nodded, sliding himself from underneath you and went back to eating you like a champ. You grabbed his hands and placed them across your chest, squeezing your breasts to send him a message. He was quick to pick up and followed suit, pinching your nipples right in between fingers while your ride his face to orgasm.

"Shit. I'm coming..."

  You writhed from above him as you come undone. Your body felt cold all over. Your eyes are ringing, feeling dizzy as you almost passed out while you bucked your hips a few more times to milk your release.

You didn’t have time to recover when you heard your phone ringing from outside. Your legs felt a little shaky and you almost tumbled and hit your head in the wall if Jeno didn’t help you get up. You  sat down on the floor, butt-ass naked as you frantically searched for your phone from under all of your stuff before you finally pressed the answer button.

“Yes mom?”

“Where have you been? Your father’s been looking for you at the library. He’s picking you up on your way home.”

You buried your head on the couch to shake off the buzzing feeling on your head. You placed a pillow on your body while you searched for your discarded clothes all over the hotel room.

“Oh yeah. I went to the café and got something to eat. Tell Dad I’ll meet him outside the library.”

“Okay sweetie. Can you pick up some groceries on your way back? I’ll text you the list.”

“Yeah mom. Bye.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as you started putting on the outfit that you wore when you left home.

“Where are you going?”

Jeno reluctantly got dressed as well, his shy demeanor came back as soon as he wore his glasses and fixed his hair.

“I got to go, Jeno. I’m sorry that I’m leaving in such a bad time…”

You went over to him and placed a sweet kiss on his lips.

“I promise to make it up to you next time, okay? I’d love to meet you again.”

You grabbed a paper bag from your backpack and handed it to him, waving as you bolted out the door.

After fixing his things, he sat down for a moment and took a quick peek inside the package that you left him.

It was a ziplock bag of full of cookies and a whole other treat.

You left him your two-piece lace lingerie.

To be continued.

[hopespeak-hs-hostclub]

Wanna Make A Bet?: A Mondo Owada smut request.

18+ ONLY. DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18!!!!!

NSFW: request and story under cut

TW:// exhibitionism, public pleasure, chastity belts, orgasm deprivation, cursing

Word Count:// 1,976

“a one-shot featuring mondo oowada practicing exhibitionism please? In the story, he'd go to town to do errands wearing a face mask. In truth, he'd have a vibrator on him with his cock in chastity and his mouth tape gagged under the mask. His objective is to finish his errands without anyone exposing him or him cumming in public. And I kinda imagine that he's doing this out of a dare between his gang members. To show he's a real man whose in control of himself. He would mainly be alone but his gang leaders would look from a distance to see if he hasn't lost yet.”

“Wait bro, you’re what?” One of the guys piped up quickly. Mondo just sighed heavily and look his friend / gang member in the eyes and repeated himself. “I’m an exhibitionist, man.”

“What the fuck is that??” Another gang member asked almost instantly.

“Jesus Christ- fuck all of you,” Mondo said getting pissed off at his friends. “I told you that sitting around like a bunch of little bitch ‘drinking and talking about our feelings‘ or whatever the fuck was fucking stupid.”

“No come on bro, none of us have literally ever even heard of that before”

“Fuck, it just means I like the idea of people seeing me get off, I guess?” Mondo said sharply looking at all his friends sitting around him. “like I get off on it I fucking guess.”

“So like, you want to jack off in public?” One of them asked.

“I’ll kick your fucking ass bro- that’s nasty dude. I’d never want anybody unsuspecting to fully see it dude, christ” Mondo stood up out of his chair and looked at them all. “You’re so fuckin dumb- all of ya! I don’t wanna be put on a damn sex offender list for touching myself in the goddamn park or something! I just… want to get off in front of people. It seems fucking hot,” he admitted while shrugging.

A few of the guys exchanged glances, and started to mumble to each other, just soft enough that Mondo couldn’t make out what was being said until they all looked back at him. “Wanna make a bet?” One of the guys asked as he stood up to be eye level with their gang’s leader.

“How much? And what kinda bet we talkin?” Mondo asked, admittedly intrigued.

“20,000¥. Meet us back here tomorrow at noon. Got it?”

Mondo just rolled his eyes. “Whatever, but I got some fuckin errands to run so you better make it quick, got it assholes?” He made eye contact with everyone else in the room, as they just snickered at him.

And that’s how he got here. In the bathroom of the garage the gang always meets at. Mondo sighs and looks in the duffel bag his friends tossed into his arms when he walked in, with no instructions further than “put it all on and get back out here.” ‘How did they even get all this stuff so last minute? Did they already have it?” Mondo thought to himself. So he did. He started by putting on, and locking, the chastity belt, which made him just a little too excited. Mondo hasn’t ever actually used a chastity before, he just knows they’re supposed to make him last way longer since he can’t touch himself, and he knows it’ll keep him nice and hard. Then he decided to use the duct tape, and gag himself with it, keeping his mouth shut. The next logical move for him was to put on the black face mask, so nobody could see the tape gag situation he had going on. All this for ¥20,000? ‘Fuck me’ was all he could think right now. Then the last step. Mondo held the little remote controlled vibrating butt plug in his hand and just stared at it for a few minutes before inserting it. He didn’t turn on it yet, and he was nervous as shit to do it too.

Mondo slowly and carefully walked out of the bathroom to the main room where everyone was waiting for him. He was already getting hard, and knew that whatever the fuck this was, was going to be a fucking nightmare. “Bro, everything… in place?” One of his gang members asked cautiously. The gagged Mondo just shook his head up and down quickly. “Perfect! So, you wanna get off in front of people without being put on a list?” His friend taunted. Mondo blushed, but luckily you couldn’t tell through the mask. “Well, I know you said you had some errands to run today, so why don’t we see if you can get through all those- but maybe without cumming,” he teazed. Mondo got wide eyed. So now, not only is he going to be horny as hell in public, but he’s not allowed to finish until the fucking errands are done? His face turned red and he tried to scream at his gang, forgetting about the gags, which just left him muffled and even more pissed off. Quickly Mondo got out a piece of paper and wrote:

“You’re fucking ON assholes.”

That’s exactly what they wanted to hear. “Perfect. Let’s get you on the back of a bike, because face it man, you can not drive with all that shit on ya,” the gang member chuckled. “I will be close behind watching though- so you better not cheat or try to lie, because trust me, I’ll fucking know. Oh and you’re giving me the key to that belt. It’s not coming off,”

With that, Mondo handed his gang member the key, then pulled himself onto the back of his bike, and the two of them rode off to the market place. As they pulled up to the big parking lot, the gang member cracked a small smirk, and got off the bike with Mondo. “All right, go do your shopping or whatever the fuck you gotta do man. I’ll keep my distance, but I’m watching you.” He said as he headed off into the crowd of people, leaving Mondo there alone. With a deep breathe in, and reaching into his coat pocket, he pressed the button to the remote control that little plug he had shoved up his ass. He set it to a low setting for now, and walked up to the first shop he had to go to. He took a deep breath and walked through the supermarket doors.

Mondo was walking through the fruits and vegetables section of the store, with his cock as hard as ever. Another man needed to grab something on the shelf right in front of Mondo, so he moved over to allow the man some space- and when he did his vibrator shifted just a little and he accidentally slipped. “Mmmh” he hummed lightly, quickly trying to turn it into a cough so the man next to him didn’t suspect anything. But Mondo loved the way he just felt. He reached his hand into his pocket and put the vibrator on a medium pulsating setting, that made him even hornier than before, if that’s even possible.

“Hnnnnnnngh” Mondo moaned lowly. He wanted to scream, his body felt amazing. He caught a woman shoot a side eye at him but she turned away and went about her business. Mondo tried his absolute best to compose himself, straightened up the best he could, and walked into the aisle he had come to the store for.

‘I just need 3- oh my fucking god” Mondo thought to himself. He quickly hunched over and grabbed onto the nearest shelf to catch his breath and control himself. He wanted to touch himself so badly, but with the belt that wasn’t even possible. “Hmm..” Mondo moaned out a few times. “hmmmf…” He already wants to turn the vibrator up to max speed, but he knows he’ll be a cryong mess if he does that. He only has one more thing to do once he’s done with the store, he can last till then, he thinks. He slowly makes his way through the aisle, grabs the three items he needed for his apartment, and tries to go pay. But god the line is long today. He has no choice but stand there and wait. Every time the line moved a little and he was forced to take a small step forward, his vibrator hit him in just the right spot to make him a god damn mess. ”nmmm… fuh..” he started to moan out in the still long line. He knew nobody could hear him, or cared but he was so embarrassed. The line moved once again, and this time his vibrator hit his prostrate in the exact right spot. A few tears formed at the corner of Mondo’s eye as he actively restrained himself from moaning out in pleasure.

Finally it’s his turn to check out and pay. He reaches into his jackets pocket to grab his wallet, but when he does, he bumps the button on the remote. “Haaaaahh…”Mondo hisses loudly as he arches his back a little. He took a few deep breaths, then pretended to finish a pretty unbelievable sneeze and proceeded to pay. The moment the cashier gave Mondo his change, he grabbed his stuff and ran to the nearest public restroom. He swiftly locked the door behind him and gripped onto the side of the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. He tried to palm himself through his pants, but the metal belt covering his fully erect dick gave him absolutely no direct contact with his throbbing cock. He starts whimpering loudly- but it’s not too loud thanks to his gag and mask. “Mmmmmh,” “hmmm hoh my god ffff-“ he barely muttered out. Mondo wanted to scream, or cry, or just touch himself once, so desperately. He felt like he was close to cumming from the vibrator alone. “Hnnnng” he cried out.

Mondo decides to try and stand up so he could leave the bathroom as quickly as he can, and find his way back to the bike. His gang member wasn’t too far behind him, so when they were both at the bike a few moments later, and Mondo hopped on without so much as saying a word, the gang member knew what was going on. He got in the front and took Mondo straight to the garage and tossed the key to him. “Ffnk you” Mondo muttered quickly as he ran to the bathroom he immediately ripped the mask and duct tape off of his mouth and moaned out loudly. “Holy fuccccckkkkk mmmmhhh…” He didn’t care that some of his friends were just a few rooms away and might be able to hear him. He just knew he felt so good and couldn’t help himself. Next was obviously the belt restricting him from touching himself. With a shaky hand, he unlocked it as fast as he was able too- which admittedly took about 3 minutes because of the constant pleasure he was feeling. Once the belt was off, Mondo immediately wrapped his hand around his now swollen, throbbing cock. “FUCK!” He shouted out in pure ecstasy and bliss. He was nothing but a mess of whimpers, cries, and moans in that moment. He knew he wasn’t going to last very long, so he quickly removed the vibrator, and fell to the floor. Mondo pumped his length a couple of times before he felt his orgasm quickly approaching. With one more stroke, he screamed out in pleasure “FUCK ME” and threw his head back as the white liquid oozed out of him, coating his hands, stomach, and thighs. He kept pumping himself slowly as more cum came out of him. “Mm…” he whimpered softly as the last of it came out. With shaky legs, Mondo pulled himself up off the floor, cleaned himself to the best of his ability, put all his clothes back on, and walked (even though it was more like a limp) back into the main area of the garage.

Without saying a word, or making eye contact with anybody, Mondo grabbed ¥20,000 and placed it in his buddy’s hand. He immediately walked out of the garage, barely got on his bike, and went home, thinking about not only just how fucked up his gang is, but how goddamn fun today was for him.

‘Maybe if I ever meet a chick we can do this shit together…’ Mondo thought to himself with a smirk.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

breathing.

© @supervalcsi

OBISPO ‘BISHOP’ LOSA.

MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @supervalcsi: Dear Aurora, my love, my sunshine, may I get prompt 12 from angst list with Bishop?? Thank you so much my friend! I love you!!! 💕💕💕💕

❝ prompt: “Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that”.

❝ words: about 1.3k.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

“Didn't know where else to go”.

His voice sounds lower than normal, as if he is on the verge of tears but fighting against it. You don't ask him how he knows your address, giving him enough space to come inside your house. Bishop doesn't doubt then, guiding his steps through the door to let you close it behind your back as you turn around to face him.

Sometimes he goes to the bar you work in, outside of Santo Padre, in one of the lost roads to nowhere. The two of you spend the night talking about anything concrete, interchanging words. And you can assure that between both there's some kind of connection since you met.

But tonight, he looks too different than usual. The black bags under his eyes mean that he hasn't had much sleep the last few days. The grown beard melting with his well-groomed mustache let you know that he hasn't taken care of himself lately. Just surviving like a lost soul, in pain for something you don't know. Traveling your eyes to his hands, you quickly notice his reddened knuckles a little bit raw.

Licking your bottom lip, hesitating, you take the first step ahead to taste the waters, invading his personal space. Knowing that Bishop is not going to take one back, you shorten till the minimal distance among your bodies to wrap him with your arms. Trying to comfort him, you hug him as much tightly as you can, feeling the man reciprocating the gesture; clinging himself to you as if you were the anchor that helps him to stay afloat.

Only then, he breaks into pieces, letting the tears run down his cheeks as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. Landing one of your hands on the back of his head, you caress gently his hair, wanting to make him feel better. You're not going to ask if he doesn't want to talk. The interrogatories aren't part of your personality. You're the one who usually listens in silence, and maybe offers some kind of advice. But it's not what Bishop needs, not tonight.

Much to your regret, you pull yourself away slowly, without doing any sharp move. Sliding your fingers down by his shoulders to the folds of the black kutte, you help him to take it off so you can hang it on a chair in the living room. He's following you like a lost puppy, keeping his head bowed. Doing the same with the black hoodie, after unzipping it, you hold his hand to guide him through the hallway towards your room.

The place is submerged under the gloom, only illuminated by some streetlights outside, but enough to see the tears on his face. After cleaning them with your fingers, while he takes off his boots and undoes the belt to throw it somewhere, you give him some space to undress and place his jeans and his shirt on the chair next to the desk.

Once lying down on your bed, you welcome him again between your bare and warm arms, aware that he feels a little better by the way his breathing sounds more calmed. Urging Bishop to rest his head on your chest, you can't help but leave a tender kiss on it.

“Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that”.

Your voice is honeyed. A soft whisper transmitting him peace. Whilst his arms are surrounding your body and your left one is around his chest, your right hand caresses slowly his cheek; using your fingertips, barely watching the man close his eyes. Soon, his breathing is inappreciable, taking the same rhythm as yours.

Still half asleep you roll around the mattress, to hide your face from sunbeams, filling up your lungs with the strong manly scent from your unexpected visitor last night. Tightening the grip around you, Bishop sighs more awake than sleep, pressing his lips on your forehead for a kiss that lasts longer than expected. But you don't care. It doesn't bother you. Feels good, after all.

“Should I say sorry or thank you?” His throaty voice slides itself through your ears with sorrow and shame.

“You don't have to be sorry, nor thank me anything”.

The smile curving his lips brushes your forehead softly, slightly jumping your heart for no reason, apparently. Resting your heads over the pillow, without breaking the mess of legs and arms tangled you are, your eyes laid on each other. You don't know what time it is, but he looks more rested than yesterday.

“Two days ago… I lost someone important to me”.

“I'm sorry, Bish”.

“Yeah, me too. But things happen for a reason, isn't it?”

Briefly nodding, you're able to see him smiling again. A sleepy grin disappears after a short second. Closing his eyes again, the man sinks his face into the crook of your neck, holding you closer under his grip to his body. The soft gasp escaping his lips, after taking a breath of your sweet smells, makes you giggle because of the tickles.

But that bubble explodes when your phone rings. Normally, no one calls you before two at noon and it couldn't be this late.

“Don't answer, please…”

“Just lemme check who it is”.

Tossing a hand over your head, palming the nightstand until finding the phone, you place it in front of your head. Unknown number. You don't recognize it. Frowning confused, you poke Bishop's cheek to make him look at it. Seems like he recognizes it by the way he has to roll his eyes. Lying on his back and grabbing it, he slides his thumb over the screen to pick up the call.

“(Y/N)?”

“It's Obispo”.

“Jesus fucking Christ, brother, I'm too fucking old for these games. Been looking for you since yesterday morning, about having a heart attack”.

“Don't be dramatic, Taza… How the hell 'you have (Y/N)'s number? Actually, how the hell 'you know her?” Looking at you, the only thing you do is shrug confused. You haven't heard about this man in your life.

“I know you better than yourself, you should know it already”.

“I'm going to hang up”.

“Hey, hey, wait! You okay?”

“I was fucking okay till you call, enjoy my seat today”.

Not giving the man at the other side of the speaker the chance to respond, Bishop finishes the call, leaving the phone on the nightstand behind him.

“How did you know where I live?” You can't help but ask, showing up your curiosity.

“I went to the bar, hoping you were there. But your boss told me you were free, so I ended up threatening him to earn your address. He didn't want to tell me”.

“Maybe he thought you were a psycho”.

“Or a Mayan”.

“Yeah, that gang of Chicanos is pretty crazy too”.

“I hate that fucking name”.

Hearing Bishop laughing for the first time in a week makes you feel some nice shivers traveling your body, resting a leg over his lap and fitting your body to his.

“I came to you because you always cheer me up. No matter what. And I don't know how you do it, but I don't want you to stop”.

Lying by his side and placing a hand on the back of your thigh, to keep your leg over his, the Mexican slides his free arm under your neck with so much care.

“I like to see you happy, to see you smiling. It isn't something I can avoid”.

“What else you can't avoid?”

“The desire of asking you to stay”.

“I'm going to stay if you want me to stay”.

“What if I ask you to kiss me?”

Leaning towards you, the response doesn't wait. At first, Bishop just presses his lips against yours. A soft cramp that bristles your skin completely. Soon, your lips start to move slowly in sync, tasting each other, cutting off your breathings. It is better than you have fantasized sometimes while talking with him sitting on the bar and sharing old whisky in the small hours. And he feels good too, even if he continues carrying the sorrow because of his recent loss, knowing that he has won you somehow.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221

MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveeee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha @lucillewinchester @theocatkov @telfordlowmans @tclaerh @aurelie-celine @spideysimpossiblegirl

[blueeyedgeorgie]

Wide Awake-Dream Was Taken

A/N: Here’s Pt. 2 bitches. I hope you all enjoy ! Also, please go support and follow @notphilosopherstudentblog​ because she helped me out with this because she’s so intelligent. <3

Btw Title is based off Katy Perry’s song Wide Awake

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.5k+

_________

It was early. Too early for Y/n to be crying. But her she was, sitting in bed, clinging to one of Clay's old shirts. In the past, it was normal for her to steal a couple of his belongings. It was typical of Y/n to invite herself into his closet, taking whatever she wanted to wear, whenever she wanted. But now it just felt wrong.

There were only a few items left Y/n had that were his. She never washed this shirt, she had only worn it once. She could still remember the day she stole it.

"Y/n, you've got to be kidding," Clay turned in his desk chair. She had just walked out of his closet wearing an oversized grey t-shirt. "You're seriously going to leave me with five pieces of clothing."

She shot him a playful look, taking a moment to admire herself in the nearest mirror. "I'm sorry Mr. 15 million subscribers. You can always buy more clothes with all that money."

"Fine... it looks better on you anyway."

She had spent the rest of the day in his shirt. And by the end of the day, the scent of his laundry detergent was strong. For an odd reason, the t-shirt had spent weeks in the back of Y/n's closet, untouched. At least, until this morning.

All night she was toss and turning. It seemed impossible for her to get a moment of sleep, her mind had been racing. The only reason she wasn't able to sleep was because of one person; Clay. Their fight had played over and over again in her mind.

'But Y/n, I really do love you.'

There were so many different ways the night could've ended. But it was her fault it ended how it did. If only she hadn't asked for him to step out of the stupid restaurant with her. She didn't need to make a scene, but she still did. This was all her fault.

The sound of her phone buzzing had pulled Y/n away from the piece of fabric in her hands. Looking down at her nightstand, she glanced at the electronic. Wilbur was calling. With a sigh, hesitantly she reached for the phone.

"Hey, Y/n."

"Morning, Wilbur."

The brunette bit his lip at the sound of her voice. He could tell she had a rough night. "Are you doing alright?"

"I'm..." she paused, looking down at the shirt in her lap. "Yeah, I'm doing better."

"That's good to hear," For some odd reason, he was pacing. It wasn't normal for him to pace back and forth. He was already dressed for the day, wearing a set of brown pants with a creme button-up shirt. A pair of glasses rested on his face as he spoke. "George and I were hoping to go get some breakfast. Do you think you could show us somewhere good?"

"Yeah, I'm up for breakfast. What about Nick and Clay?" If Clay was coming, she didn't know what she'd do. There would be tension, but maybe she could find a way to patch everything up between them.

"Nick's going over to Clay's. They wanna have a bit of time together."

"Oh, okay... when do you guys wanna meet up?"

"Maybe 30 minutes to an hour?"

"An hour it is."

Before preparing to go out, Y/n had texted Wilbur a location point to meet up. It was a nice restaurant located in town, it had always been one of her favorite places to eat. George and Wilbur had gotten a table outside, it was nice out for a day in Flordia.

"Do you think she's gonna do it?"

Wilbur glanced across the table to George, "Honestly, probably not." He let out a sigh, " hope she agrees. I really do. But it's gonna be hard for her to let go. I just think it'd be better if they got some time away from each other."

"You're right. As good of friends they are, they need a break from each other." They both knew it wasn't a good idea for Y/n to stay in Flordia at the moment, she needed a moment away from Clay. So Wilbur had come up with an idea to get Y/n to take a break.

"What do you think of Elise?" Changing the subject, George leaned back in his chair. It was rare for Clay's girlfriend to come up in conversation. She seemed like such a touchy subject in the group. She was definitely a sweetheart, but it seemed like she appeared out of nowhere. The group had been planning future Dream SMP roleplay on a Discord call. It had been so brief when Clay mentioned her. 'Hey guys, I just wanted to mention I started dating somebody.' It was smart of George to hold his tongue because of what else Clay had to say. 'Her name is Elise and she's 19.'

Most of the group had expected Clay and Y/n to end up together. They were best friends who lived in the same town. There was constant flirting going on between them. And not to mention Y/n had always been there to support Clay through the bad and good.

"Hey, guys!"

Both of the British men were pulled out of their thoughts by the sound of her voice. Y/n was quick to take a seat by Wilbur. "Have we ordered yet?"

"No actually, we've been waiting for you." George fixed his posture, his classic grin appeared on his face. "Got any recommendations for drinks?"

"My go-to has to be a mimosa and the eggs benedict."

The knock came as a surprise, but there were a lot of surprises happening this morning. Clay had woken up earlier than usual. Naturally, he'd get up around 9 or 10, but today he woke at 7. He couldn't go to bed for a few more hours, his mind wouldn't quit racing with thoughts. He had ended up skipping breakfast, he wasn't hungry today. It was normal for him to eat something, he always woke up starved. The early knock was the cherry on top of the cake of the surprises happening today.

"Hey Nick, what are you doing here?" Clay glanced behind his friend, looking for any sign of the rest of his friends. Originally, they had planned to meet up later that afternoon at his place. "I thought you were coming by at noon?"

Nick stood on the porch, burying his hands into the pockets of his jeans. It was early in the morning, yet it was already warm outside. "Yeah, sorry I didn't ask if I could come by earlier. I just wanted some time alone with you."

"Cool, make yourself at home," Stepping aside, the blonde opened the door a bit wider for his friend. "Sorry it's a bit messy, I was planning to clean up before you guys showed up."

The pair had made their way to Clay's living room. It was nice, but still a bit messy just as he said. As the blonde began to pick up after himself, the pair had a bit of small banter.

"Is Elise gonna come by this afternoon?" Nick watched as Clay picked up a couple of items sitting on the coffee table.

"Uh, no. I think she had work today."

"Oh, what about Y/n?"

Clay tensed, pausing for a second. She had been on his mind a lot since the last time he saw her. The way she looked at him... it hurt. It felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. This morning she was all he could think of. He missed her good morning texts, the way she'd update him about little situations happening in her schedule, when she would randomly face time him just to say: 'I wanted to see your stupid face because I missed it.'

"I... she's not coming."

"Why's that?"

"You know why, Nick." Clay let out a sigh, taking a seat on the couch. He didn't know what he could do, he was the one who messed everything up. If he tried to apologize, he might even piss Y/n off even more. She had always been a hardass about being hurt or betrayed, it was hard for her to give people a second chance. "I don't even think she knows we're all planning to meet up later today."

"Dude... it's weird seeing you two like this. It feels wrong." The two friends looked at one another, it seemed like Nick could tell exactly what Clay was thinking. 'It is wrong.'

"I miss her. But I was also the one who fucked everything up by ignoring her for weeks."

"Why'd you even do that?"

"Because I fell in love with her. I was scared she didn't feel the same. So I distanced myself and looked for someone to start a relationship with.  That's why I met Elise."

"Clay... you're an idiot."

"I know."

Turning, Wilbur looked at Y/n. She was halfway finished with her meal. Everything was going great, she seemed so happy just to be able to talk with two friends. It seemed like the best time to spring the idea on her.

"Hey, Y/n?"

"Yes, Wilbur?"

He bit his lip, glancing at the man sitting on the other side of the table. George gave a brief nod, knowing what was going to happen next. "George and I had an idea we'd like to share with you."

"What is it?"

"You know how you've been talking about how you've always wanted to visit us in London?"

"Yeah..."

Wilbur paused, looking back at George for a second. "Well, we were thinking... I have a free room in my place. Why don't you spend one of two months with me just to see how you like London?"

Y/n's face lit up. "That sounds great, Wilbur. I... wow. That sounds so fun!" She paused, her smile disappeared. "But what about my house? I can't just abandon it for a month."

Wilbur bit his lip, 'Shit.'

"Clay can stop by once a week, just to make sure everything's fine. I'm positive he'll do it for you," George was quick to jump into the conversation. As soon as he mentioned Clay, Wilbur shot him a look. Y/n tensed at the sound of his name.

"Listen Y/n, you don't have to do it. Just keep the idea in mind, you can give me an answer before George and I leave."

"Okay..." Y/n bit her lip, looking at her food. She knew the only right answer was yes, but it was going to be hard to talk to Clay about this. "I think... I think I wanna do this. I wanna go with you guys."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, but... just give me some time to think it over."

"We're always here for you, Y/n. No pressure." Wilbur placed a hand on Y/n's. He wanted her to come to London, everything would be better. He cared a lot about Y/n, he really did. He just wanted to see her happy.

"I just want her to be happy," Clay let out a sigh, opening the refrigerator door. His eyes skimmed over what there was, he had gone grocery shopping the other day to plan for today. He still wasn't hungry.

"Everything's gonna get-" Nick paused, he was interrupted by the sound of Clay's phone ringing. There was a moment of silence as the blonde closed the refrigerator, approaching his phone on the kitchen counter.

"It's Y/n."

"What?"

"Do I pick it up?" Clay glanced at his friend.

"yes, yes, yes! Do it!"

Clay was quick to pick up the phone, putting it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, Clay."

"Hey, Y/n."

"Do you..." she paused, "Do you have a moment to talk?"

"Yeah, I can talk." Clay leaned against the counter, listening to her intently. It had only been a few days, but he missed her voice. He could tell she was down.

"I know this seems like the wrong time to be asking for favors and everything, considering everything that has happened this last week. But... I need your help with something." She paused again. He could tell she was hesitating, as though something was keeping her back. "I think I'm gonna be gone for a while. And I just need someone to check up with my house every couple of days. Could you do that? It's fine if you don't want to, it was a stupid idea of me to ask you anyways-"

"No, yeah. Of course, I'll check up on your house for you, Y/n." He was quick to cut her off. The last thing he wanted was for her to think she couldn't turn to him for help anymore. "And it's not stupid of you to ask me. I'll always be here if you need something or need help."

She scoffed, "You weren't there for me these past few weeks." She stopped herself again for the third time. "I'm sorry, that was really bitchy of me."

"I deserved it," he could only chuckle. Y/n was still herself. "But yeah, is there anything else you need... or want to talk about?"

"I... no. No, that's it. I guess I'll talk to you... eventually."

"Alright," Clay fought back the urge to let out a disappointed sigh. "I'll see you." Without saying goodbye, she hung up the phone. He didn't know what to expect next, he wasn't even sure whether this was a step in the right direction or not.

Staring at the box, Y/n felt herself tear up for the hundredth time this week. This was going to be a hard task to complete, but it was going to help her let go.

Walking around the house, Y/n picked up item by item. Anything that belonged to Clay was going in the box.  A few t-shirts, a couple of CDs she stole, one of his coffee cups. Y/n wasn't even sure how the cup had gotten to her house, but she knew it belonged to Clay. All of her coffee cups matched, all the same color and shape. But... this one cup had shown up in her pantry one day. Every time Clay had spent the night, he'd start the morning off with a cup of coffee, only using that cup.

At this point, Y/n was picking up items that held too strong memories of him. The box had quickly filled, it felt strange. It seemed like she had just lost a chunk of her house. Of her life. This needed to happen. This was the only way they'd be able to keep their friendship.

Y/n had agreed to come to London with Wilbur, she was finally fully on board. Two suitcases sat by her front door as she waited for Wilbur and George to arrive. She would only be in Florida for a few more hours, she needed to give this box back to him. Maybe she could just say screw it, leave it here under her bed, hidden away. So when she'd return she'd be comforted by his shirts and hoodies, she'd listen to his songs and cry.

No. She couldn't do that. If she did that she wouldn't be letting go of everything. Y/n needed closure, it'd be the best for them both and she knew it. Pulling her out of her thoughts, Y/n heard a knock on her door. It was time.

"Morning, Y/n."

"Morning, Wilbur." Y/n smiled, embracing her friend in a hug as soon as she opened the door.

"George is in the car. We got coffee too." Wilbur looked down at her, his arms still wrapped around her waist, holding her close. "You're positive you want to do this?"

"Yes, I need to."

"Alright, then. I'll support you with whatever decision you make." He finally stepped aside, moving to grab her suitcases. Y/n grabbed the box, she had moved it into the hallway before greeting Wilbur. With one more glance, she looked down her hallway before closing the door. As soon as her home was locked up, Y/n had dropped her keys into the box. This was going to be the final step before London. Giving it all back.

George and Y/n greeted each other, Y/n giving him a quick hug before entering the car. The rest of the time, the car ride was quiet. There was obviously going to be tension. On their way, Y/n kept thinking to herself about what she was going to say. What if she fucked it all up? What if they broke out into another fight?

"Here we are."

Y/n sucked in a breath, looking over at the familiar house. This was the final step.

"Y/n, do you need either of us to walk up with you?" Wilbur spoke, he noticed the way she looked at the house.

She shook her head. "No, I got this..." Stepping out of the car, there were only a few words she'd repeat to herself. 'This is the final step. This is the final step. This is the final step.' It felt like it took forever for her to reach his porch.

As soon as she was face to face with the wooden door, she was quick to hit the doorbell. She just wanted to get this over with, fast. A few moments passed, and just as she reached to hit the doorbell again, she stepped back. The door was opening.

"Y/n?" Clay yawned, his hair was a mess. It was obvious she had just woken him up. "What are you-"

"It's time for me to go now. I'm sorry for waking you up. Here are my keys and a few of your items in case you wanted them while I was-"

"Woah, woah, woah." He interrupted her, rubbing his eyes. "Slow down, you're talking fast. You're leaving? Right now?"

"I..." she sighed. "Yeah, I am."

"And this..." he looked down at the box in her hands. "They're all mine?"

"Yeah, that's kinda the whole point." She gave him a look, "Considering the box says your name."

"Alright... thank you," he nodded, carefully picking the box up from her. "How long are you gonna be gone?"

"I'm not sure. I just know I have to go."

"Why?"

"Because of us, Clay. It'd be better for both of us. We need time apart. We have so much going on in each other's lives. I just need a break."

He watched her, she looked close to tears. Without thinking, Clay pulled his friend into his embrace, holding her close. "I understand. Take as much time as you need. I'll be here."

"Thank you."

The hug was short, Y/n was the first to pull away. As soon as it was over, she muttered a quick goodbye, hurrying back to the car. When the car door shut, Wilbur was quick to jump to asking questions.

"Are you okay? Do you need anything? You're completely sure you want to do this?"

"I'm fine, Wilbur."

"Alright, I just wanted to check." Wilbur paused, looking out the window. "Y/n, would you mind if George and I said our goodbyes to Clay?"

"Go ahead, I'm not the boss of you."

Sitting in the car alone, Y/n got a moment to catch her breath and stop the tears from forming. She did it. She completed the final step. She could do whatever she wanted now. The moment alone in the car felt short, George and Wilbur were back in the car in what felt like seconds. Only, Wilbur sat in the back with Y/n, George driving by himself.

"You ready, Y/n?"

"More than anything." Y/n looked at Wilbur, the way he smiled at her just felt... good. Looking down, she noticed Wilbur gently grabbing her hand in his. She smiled, things were going to start getting good for her, she knew it.

"Wow okay, now I just feel like a driver for you two." George shot a dirty look in the mirror.

"A bad driver," Y/n grinned at her friend. "Start moving, Mr. colorblind." "If I get a ticket for running a red light, I'm blaming you."

With a yawn, Y/n opened her eyes. She had another good night of sleep, it had been weeks since she had a bad night of sleep. For eight months, she had lived in London. At this point, her house in Flordia was sold to a family of three, and she was no longer flatmates with Wilbur. Instead, she was his girlfriend.

Turning over, she faced the beautiful brunette. He was still asleep. She owed him everything. She was now an influencer because of him, he had helped her set up her YouTube channel and introduced her to the fans. He thought it'd be a good job for her, considering how she was a social butterfly and carry conversations.

Clay and Y/n didn't interact as much as they use to. They'd interact on the Dream SMP and over social media. But it was rare for them to speak in private. The only way their relationship got better was by them distancing themselves. What was a beautiful friendship had turned into an acquaintanceship. Clay was still dating Elise, but it seemed like things weren't going the best and there were signs of him planning to break up with her soon.

Wilbur peeked an eye open, looking at his girlfriend. "Morning, Y/n."

"Morning, Wilbur."

Y/n smiled, she knew she was right. Everything got better for her. After all, When the rain ends, there will always be a rainbow.

[dabisburntsack]

Pay attention to me

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing(s): Shigarki Tomura x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: Restless from your lack of attention to him in quarantine, Shigaraki takes matters into his own hands.

Wordcount: 2162

This is apart of a quarantine fluff collab done with the crackhead sanctuary discord server! Can’t wait to see how everyone’s fics turned out! This was fun to do I hope you all enjoy ٩( ᐛ )و

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Shigaraki was secretly enthusiastic after a mass pandemic had broken out in Japan, usually the two of you would not be able to see much of each other due to the danger of being caught with your profession as a pro hero and his as an extremely wanted villain. Now you had no choice other than to be wrapped in each other's embrace as chaos roamed outside the solid walls of your modern apartment. No one was there to judge you guys being together and the usual paparazzi outside of your residence had been resolved as people were not stepping foot outside.

However, what he didn’t expect was for the hero commision to still call you forward as an essential worker. Villains it seemed were still up to no good, even though Shigaraki had told the rest of the league to stay put and inside; lesser known villains had decided to make their own names known in the country's vulnerable state. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the times you were home you had steadily grown yourself attached to the retro nintendo switch gaming console. What the fuck was so good about animal crossing anyway? Did you enjoy spending time with that rat Tom Nook instead of him?!

Shigaraki was used to him being the gamer between the two of you, he enjoyed it as you pleaded for him to get off whatever device he was on at the time by smothering him with kisses till he gave into you. Sometimes he would even do so on purpose to get affection from you. Being on the other end of it though, was something he quickly learned he did not enjoy. Not being one to initiate intimate gestures in the relationship, he just watched you hoping you would notice him sulking and give in to him.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Sunday morning. No hero duties, just you and him, sleeping in till noon; but as his hand caught the coldness coming from your side of the bed, Shigaraki buried his head into his pillow and groaned. He could hear your padded footsteps going downstairs. Rolling over he yawned into his hand before checking the time, 8:45am. Why were you awake at 8:45am. Why was he awake at 8:45am on a Sunday morning.

Throwing off the sheets he winced as his feet hit the cold wooden floor of your shared bedroom, he was going to have to drag you back to your cocoon pile himself. Muttering, he walked his way downstairs before peaking into the living room to see you huddled on the

couch, switch in hand. Of course you were up so early just to go on that damn game.  

“Player two, what the fuck are you doing awake right now”

Your head snapped up like a deer caught in headlights as you saw your boyfriend's tired face leaning beside the door frame. Sheepishly rubbing at your neck you pouted up at him, “But Daisy Mae is selling turnips”

“Daisy who is doing what???”

“Daisy mae” You repeated bringing your switch up so he could look at what you were referring to “look at her she's so adorable, I have to buy from her I can’t make her sad by not buying”

Shigaraki looked down to your screen and blanked. There on screen was an orange little pig with a hat full of turnips, and standing by its side smiling brightly was your avatar. You got out of bed for a pig??? A pig selling turnips from its head...and was that a snot drop hanging from its snout?!!

He looked back up at you and if emojis existed in real life, he swore you would be the pleading eyes one with the face you were pulling at him. Ok, but who gave you the right to be so fucking adorable, he was meant to be mad at you for having woken him up so early!! Over a PIG!!!

“And why do you have to ‘buy turnips from daisy mae’ so early in the morning, you can do it later on”

“You can only buy before noon” You pleaded at him “Come on who could resist look how cute she is”

“I can be cute” Shigaraki huffed under his breath “Come back to bed, I’m tired and cold”

“Ok ok after this I will, you go warm it back up for me” You had already started slotting your switch in the port that hooked it up to the TV.

Shigaraki puffed out a breath but obliged and made his way back upstairs, waiting upon your arrival. Sliding back between the covers he peered at the doorway to your bedroom patiently to see when you would come back, however something about the warmth of the sheets and the way the mattress moulded perfectly into his back pulled him back into slumber in an instant however much he tried to fight it.

When he awoke again it was 11:15 and he was content to see you rolled up on his chest. He breathed out slowly, tucking a hair strand behind your ear, before kissing the top of your head.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Waking and sleeping at ridiculous times had seemed to turn into the norm for you after that however, as he once again caught you out of bed at 3am this time, when he awoke from feeling the coldness of your body not pressed up against his. He blearily rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb before seeing a brief light flickering from downstairs through the cracks of your bedroom door. He threw his head back and protested, muttering under his breath on how much of a hassle you were, before pulling off the covers and making his way downstairs. Blinking at going into the light he found you once again curled up on the sofa, controller in hand and staring avidly at the TV screen.

“Y/N.”

“Yes?” You replied not taking your eyes off the screen.

“What are you doing awake?”

Well at least you had the dignity of alighting a blush that made its way up your neck and across your cheeks. You meekly turned your gaze to him ready to spring up your puppy eyes but he looked back at you with a deadpan expression. Still, you tried your luck by pouting at him and blinking your eyes in mock innocence.

“But shiggy there’s a meteor shower today and I had to watch it”

“It's a game, can't you do it in the morning?” Shigaraki sighed, being once more brought to weakness by your gaze. He couldn’t resist you, not when you were looking at him like that paired in an oversized t-shirt with a blanket draped over your head. HIS oversized t-shirt might he add.

“I have to do it nowww, the stars only come between 7pm and 4am”

Honestly he didn’t know how to respond, you really stayed up to watch a pixelated star fall from the sky. Is this how bad he was? He shook his head but couldn’t help at the slight smile that tugged at his lips. Making his way over to you he took off your blanket before wrapping it round the both of you.

“Lets see this damn star that has you awake all night then”

You beamed at him. He melted.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

With the days going by of you ignoring him for your switch, Shigaraki thought doing the same to you would be a good idea. But as it went on he couldn’t bring himself to carry on, he wanted your attention, and he had just thought of a way to achieve his goals.

Basing his plan on the night a few weeks ago when you had stayed up for that meteor shower, he dragged out an assortment of blankets to the old trampoline you had in your garden. Since that night he had decided if you so badly wanted to stay up for a stupid capatilist racoon, you could do so with him too and experience the real thing. He had gone ahead and checked the weather for when clear skies would take place for you guys to stargaze in your back garden, along with a nice dinner beforehand. He had already started cooking back when quarantine had begun trying to ease the load off you as you worked on your hero duties, and although not the best, his food was the least bit savagable now. (Although this did include multiple temper tantrums on his behalf and having to call Kurogiri to calm himself down.)

Coming back inside he checked on the curry he had left to simmer only to find it was burning. FUCK. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, ten minutes away he looked up in exasperation at the mess in front of him, this wasn’t going well. The curry was burnt, the salad was old and the flowers he got you had disintegrated when he tried to move them into a vase as he wasn’t wearing his gloves earlier on. Maybe it wasn’t too late for Kurogiri to teleport some decent food his way…

As the door chimed from your arrival he hurriedly put down the plates and scratched at his neck, he didn’t usually do huge gestures in the relationship between you guys, that was more your thing. He showed his love in small ways, he liked touching you, having at least one body part pressed against you eased his nerves. Whether it be your thighs brushing against each other as you sat next to each other or feeling the warmth of your hand against his leathered one it never failed to put his mind at ease. This was long overdue, he wanted to show you how much he cared, if things would just go his fucking way the once.

“I’m home!” You called out, he knew your routine by now, you would go hop in the shower as to decontaminate yourself from any germs and then come eat with him before going off to spend hours on your switch. Well not tonight, you were his for tonight.

“Welcome home, brat”

His attention turned back to the utter chaos in front of him and he brought his forefinger and thumb up to massage the bridge of his nose. Picking up his phone with all fingers but his pinky he dialled Kurogiri’s number but stopped in his tracks as he heard a gasp in the room.

“Shiggy?”

His ears felt hot as he turned to face you, you were looking at the small dining table set up in the kitchen and looked up at him with tears in your eyes.

Shit.

His cooking really was so bad he had made you cry fuck this wasn-

“Shiggy you did this for me?”

...

“Well who else would I do it for”

The air was knocked out of his lungs as you flung yourself into his arms, he was still fearful whenever you made sudden movements on him as of his quirk but he relaxed as he noticed the leather adoring his hands was there.

“I had a bad day at work today, I missed you so much all day”

Shigarakis arms wrapped back around you as he buried his face into your hair. “I missed my player two aswell”

Staying in each other's embrace, Shigaraki hummed in content. “I burnt the curry by the way”

“It's the thought that counts, I’m sure it isn’t so bad”

It was bad. Shigaraki seemed to have missed out a lot of steps and he ended up calling Kurogiri after all, after eating and showering together (you had jumped straight into Shigarakis arms and needed to be clean from your day of work) Shigaraki grabbed your hand and tugged you outside.

“I thought we could stargaze together…” Shigaraki muttered out his ears turning red yet again. “Like you do with bob rook”

…

“Tom nook?” You laughed

“Yes the dumb racoon boy”

“Are you jealous of said dumb racoon boy?” You asked, amused.

“No” He replied too quickly, and was silent for a while before speaking up “You’ve been playing on that game a lot recently though”

“Finally got a taste of your own Medicine, have you?”

“I’m not as bad as you”

“I beg to differ”

He flicked the top of your forehead as you giggled and laid back in the nest he had built on your trampoline, before staring up at the sky. It really was a beautiful night to stargaze, the weather was pleasant too, with the warm summer air and no breeze. Shigaraki laid down next to you, laced his fingers with yours and brought them up to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles.

“I love you”

“More than Tom Nook?”

Pretending to think about it you hummed. “Mmmm yes I think so”

“You think so?”

“Of course I love you more than Tom Nook dummy”

Shigaraki was quiet for a while before softly muttering out “I love you too”

[bloody-bee-tea]

It’s just a sitting down in the shower day

Me processing my feelings by putting them into fic instead of writing what I really should? More likely than you think though I don't have a Nie Mingjue to cuddle me through it

Title from Shower Day by The Amazing Devil

When Jiang Cheng wakes up he thinks that this is another pretty meh day, but he knows better the moment he picks up his phone.

There are three unread messages waiting for him and Jiang Cheng already feels like he’s crumbling under the expectation of answering them.

So his mood finally tipped over into pretty fucking bad, he thinks and then puts the phone away before it can show him another thing he should react to, face down so that he doesn’t have to see the notifications glare up at him and feel even worse about not being able to answer anything.

At least today. He hopes tomorrow will be better.

When that is done, Jiang Cheng turns around for good measure too, puts his back towards the room and whatever is waiting for him outside of bed, pulls his blanket up under his chin and then he just lays there, staring into nothing, before he closes his eyes and pretends to simply not exist for the day.

It doesn’t work all too well because his mind keeps reminding him that there are people waiting for an answer from him probably, but Jiang Cheng feels like crying when he just thinks about reading the messages and so that makes his mood plummet even more.

Awesome.

Jiang Cheng pulls his blanket up over his head because maybe it doesn’t just keep the monsters at bay but also bad thoughts—one can hope, right—but his mind won’t shut up.

There is one thing that would make Jiang Cheng feel better, but for that he’d have to pick up his phone and actually go to his messages and then ask for help and he’s not about to do that.

Not normally and especially not today, when he could burst into tears at even having to explain what is wrong with him, and so he simply continues to exist in a small space in his bed, curled up and sad.

He thinks he dozed off at one point, because the next thing he knows is that Wei Wuxian is sitting down on his bed and Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to see him, doesn’t even want to speak to him, but so he also can’t tell him to go fuck off.

So he simply continues to lay there.

“Jiang Cheng, it’s past noon on a Saturday and you’re still in bed?” Wei Wuxian asks, his usual cheer lacking from his voice and now Jiang Cheng feels bad about worrying him.

“Yeah,” he croaks out, his voice probably pretty muffled through the blanket, but he can’t find it in him to even raise his hands to pull it down or anything, so Wei Wuxian will just have to deal with it.

Or not, Jiang Cheng bitterly thinks as Wei Wuxian peels the corner of the blanket away. Thankfully he stops when he uncovers Jiang Cheng’s face, though, so Jiang Cheng will let it pass. At least this once.

“Don’t you have stuff to do? You always have stuff to do on Saturdays,” Wei Wuxian says and Jiang Cheng can hear the frown in his voice, he doesn’t even have to look at him for that.

And it’s true, too. Jiang Cheng usually has stuff to do on Saturdays, or on every other day, and the work will not get itself done. But Jiang Cheng is pretty sure that if he gets up to work on it today, he’ll either break down, scream until he’s hoarse or delete and destroy every last thing he has already done and he does not actually want to do that.

So laying in bed it is.

“Are you still tired?” Wei Wuxian asks next and he leans over Jiang Cheng to get a glimpse at his face. “Is this a symptom of the virus? Did you get the virus?” Wei Wuxian goes on, getting more and more frantic with every question and Jiang Cheng sighs.

“We both know that between us, it’s your immune system that is shit. So if I had the virus then you would most definitely have it too and I don’t see you being sick,” Jiang Cheng says and then he feels like he ran a marathon because speaking is actually pretty damn exhausting.

“Rude,” Wei Wuxian huffs out, but he sounds calmer already and a calm Wei Wuxian means that Jiang Cheng will get to wallow in peace much more easily and sooner at that.

“Why won’t you come out?” Wei Wuxian wants to know and Jiang Cheng heaves out another sigh.

“Leave me alone,” he says, his voice listless and low and he can practically feel the worry radiating off Wei Wuxian at that.

“You’re not yelling at me,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “You’re not even cursing at me. Are you dying?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng gives back, but he also turns his face further into the pillow. “Go away.”

“I guess I will,” Wei Wuxian hesitantly says and Jiang Cheng feels him getting up from the bed. “Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?”

“I need you to go away,” Jiang Cheng tells him, though a tiny part of himself panics at the thought that Wei Wuxian might really go away, and not come back, but even that is not enough to get Jiang Cheng to explain more or even turn around.

If Wei Wuxian really does want to leave and not come back like ever, then Jiang Cheng guesses it was inevitable and it’s not like his mood can get any worse anyway.

“Alright,” Wei Wuxian whispers but he hesitates in the doorway. “I’m here if you need anything, though,” he then adds and Jiang Cheng does have to admit that he relaxes slightly at hearing that, even though it doesn’t improve anything major about his mood.

At least his mind can shut up about Wei Wuxian leaving him now. One thing less to worry about.

Once Jiang Cheng is sure that Wei Wuxian left the room, he pulls the blanket up over his head again, because like this it’s warm and dark and it’s about the only state that Jiang Cheng can endure at the moment and then he continues to simply not do anything besides existing for the next however long it is.

At one point Jiang Cheng’s stomach grumbles, but it stops after one sound and it’s not enough incentive for Jiang Cheng to actually get up and do anything about it, so he doesn’t pay any more attention to it.

He maybe dozes off again, because he wakes up to the door opening again, and usually he would snap at Wei Wuxian for coming back when he’s so clearly not wanted right now, but Jiang Cheng can’t muster the energy to do that.

He’ll just deal with whatever annoying shit Wei Wuxian wants now and then he’ll go back to his wallowing.

It’s sounds like a pretty decent plan, if Jiang Cheng is being honest, especially since he knows that he can out-stubborn Wei Wuxian on any day, but he was not at all prepared for someone to slide into bed with him.

Jiang Cheng tenses for a second, before he’s being pulled against a very familiar chest and then he simply goes boneless.

Though he does muster up enough energy to turn around so that he can hide his face in Nie Mingjue’s chest, because obviously no place is better than that, even on bad days.

“Wei Wuxian said you’re not doing so well today,” Nie Mingjue mutters and presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head. “So I thought I’d come over.”

Jiang Cheng has to swallow against the emotion lodged in his throat before he can actually speak, but there is nothing at all he can do against the burning of his eyes.

“I don’t want to do anything,” Jiang Cheng says, because he figures it’s better to manage Nie Mingjue’s expectations immediately instead of making him think that Jiang Cheng will get a grip in a few minutes and they can do something.

“Okay,” Nie Mingjue easily agrees and then wriggles around a bit.

Jiang Cheng slightly starts to panic when he thinks that Nie Mingjue is going to leave again, but apparently Nie Mingjue is just getting more comfortable, because he lets out a sigh and then goes boneless.

“You don’t have to stay,” Jiang Cheng mutters, hating that he’s robbing Nie Mingjue of his Saturday now, too, but Nie Mingjue only hums.

“Dozing the day away sounds actually pretty good,” he mumbles into Jiang Cheng’s hair. “The guy above me was throwing a party. At least until the police came and crashed it, because you know, throwing parties is kind of illegal in this day and age, and it turned out he was actually alone up there. I don’t even know how he managed to achieve that kind of noise on his own, but I certainly didn’t get much sleep,” Nie Mingjue explains and then pulls Jiang Cheng even closer to himself.

It’s a good explanation; at least like this Jiang Cheng doesn’t feel too guilty about ruining someone else’s day, and that makes it a lot easier.

But he still feels the need to reiterate that there will be nothing at all happening with him today except this.

“I don’t think I want to do anything later, either,” Jiang Cheng tries to explain, because he never knows how to put these bad days into words, but Nie Mingjue doesn’t seem to care.

“Hush, I’m trying to doze and cuddle my boyfriend,” he sleepily mumbles and it’s actually enough to make Jiang Cheng’s lips twitch, though with the new burning of his eyes that could have multiple reasons.

“Fine,” he says and then they both fall silent.

Jiang Cheng is pretty sure that Nie Mingjue falls asleep mere minutes later, because his breath is deep and even and it’s doing a lot for Jiang Cheng as well.

He guesses he will have to thank Wei Wuxian for this, but that will have to wait for tomorrow.

Today he’s going to stay in bed, and feel bad and have his boyfriend be understanding of his moods. That’s got to be enough for one day.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar

[whitehotharlots]

A true story about rehab from 2007

Names and places changed, dates slightly fuzzy, yada yada

This all starts with Chris.  Chris might be a good example of how things are objectively broken.

Two summers ago, Chris and his girlfriend moved from everyone's old hometown, Alton, to everyone's current home, Garden City.  I had known Chris briefly when I still lived in Alton, which was up until about 8 years ago.  In high school he was friends with my sister, a year behind her, I think, only he had some legal trouble and didn't graduate until two years after her.  The first arrest came during his junior year, when police found some marijuana in his car while he was in class.  "Apparently Alton is a utopia," he said years later.  "No robberies need solving, no cars need ticketing, no fences need mending, fuckit nobody's house must've been dirty because if there was anything else even remotely worthwhile that those cocksuckers could have been doing they wouldn't have taken a drug dog through the high school parking lot."  

The ironic part was that he was, honest-to-god, holding it for a friend.  Hadn't touched the stuff until then, hadn't even drank more than a beer or two.  Cops came in and pulled him out of class.  Cuffed him right there in class, in front of everybody.   From what I've been able to piece together that marked a very strong loss of innocence for young Chris.  No rules were worth following, after all, if The Bastards could punish you for nothing.  This was greatly exacerbated by the fact that, according to several of the best lawyers Alton had to offer, the search of Chris' car was unconstitutional as it was not actually parked in the school parking lot, or even on school grounds, at the time of the search.  The juvenile court judge would hear none of it though—all the police had done was break Chris' constitutional right to privacy.  He had committed the much greater crime of having an eighth ounce of marijuana in his glove compartment. 

His claim of having his rights violated incensed the judge, who sentenced our poor Chris to 72 hours in county jail and 12 weeks of rehab.  Were it not for his successful, stable family, he would have been sent to juvie. 

It was his first offense.  He was 16. 

Jail, he said, wasn't that bad.  He got to do it over a weekend. The guard was an old lady and even though she was kind of a bitch she let him bring in his homework.  She said she was surprised to see someone his age in here, with the adults, but whatever he had done it must have been pretty bad or else he wouldn't be here, would he?  They kept him away from the drunks at night and the only other people who came into the "pen" (his word, not mine) were guys who got bailed out within a couple of hours and were too pissed off about their own bad luck to give him any shit for his. 

What really fucked with him was rehab.  It didn’t matter that he'd never smoked a single joint (or even a cigarette) at this time:  he was an addict and by gum he had to admit to being an addict before the obese, shit-smelling overseer would sign the form saying that Chris had attended his sessions.  Every weekend for three months he was legally forced to lie.  Yes, he said, he was an addict.  Yes, even though it made no sense in any grammatical or even symbolic context, he was forced to say "my name is Chris and I'm a narcotic."  His personal habits were picked apart—why was his hair so long (it wasn't that long, really)? Why did he wear the same pants on Sunday that he wore on Saturday?  Who were these "Dead Milkmen" that his T-shirt spoke of?  Ohh… and surely this is a good-tempered, Christian punk band, right?  No?  Well you see right there that's a part of the problem.  Have your mother sign a note saying you've thrown out all of their CDs and any other enabling you might own.  No—you can't sell them, you must throw them out. 

"We had to go in a day and a half every weekend.  All day Saturday and then Sunday from noon until 4.  It took me five weeks, when I was starting to get comfortable, before I asked if I could come in Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday.  It worked out better for me that way, since the place where I worked wasn't open Sundays.  The fat guy just opened his mouth and would not close it.  'When would you go to church?'  he said. By then I knew enough to laugh and say 'oh yeah what was I thinking.'"

A few of the people had actual problems.  One guy got caught with meth, was beating the shit out of his wife and his two little girls, and seemed genuinely remorseful.  Another guy had to drink a sixer every morning or else he'd get the shakes so bad he wouldn't be able to drive to work.  But most of the people there were more or less normal and had either fucked up once or else been fucked over once—got into a bar fight while legally drunk, blew .02 over the legal limit at a roadblock, smoked pot once every few weeks and got narced on by a snitch, that kind of stuff. These people were split over how much they believed the bullshit they were being fed.  Those who believed, as the official literature did, that being hungover once in your lifetime or ever drinking more than 4 beers in a sitting two or more times in a month are both signs of hardcore alcoholism, they became repentant and preachy. 

One such lady was a thin, tan, well-dressed soccer mom who would snitch on the others when they didn't pay close enough attention to the instructional videos or else would appear in any way to not be taking things seriously enough.  If you were bad you got demerits, credit card-sized pieces of construction paper upon which frowny faces and intimidating biblical verses were printed. The overseer would also scribble something down in his notebook, which must have had some kind of official weight because it was on his person at all times.

Most people have an innate desire, however illogical it might often be, to please authority figures, and so Chris and the rest of the doubtful "addicts" thought the embarrassment of getting their reprimand literally handed to them was punishment enough for resting their eyes or letting a stray giggle break loose when the acting in an informational film was especially bad. Chris made only one such mistake.  During a lecture, the overseer kept making the point that it wasn't the drugs that people get addicted to—oh no, it's the high that keeps you coming back.  Chris smiled—remember at this point he still probably hadn't ever been high, not in his whole life—because it seemed like such a stupid, nonsensical thing to say, because even though he was only 16 he could appreciate moments like this, when the moronic essence of a big, scary process could concentrate itself into a single sentence. 

"It's not the drugs:  it's the high," the man said.  He was very clean shaven, dressed like a detective in a 70s cop show, his hair was combed so straight it was like wire, his glasses were round and cruel looking and he had this, this look on his face, this air about him like he thought he was a genius.  He nodded a little bit after the repetition of his idiotic point. Proud—he was actually proud of the things he was saying, proud of his position, proud of getting to fill the heads of desperate or else unfortunate people with nonsense.  And this made Chris smile—not laugh, just smile, and the soccer mom pulled on his ear really hard, so hard it made his eyes water, and then she raised her hand to snitch on him.  The proud overseer was still proud, looked like a king in an old movie, and with the most serious air Chris had ever seen, the fat man called him up before the entire room.  His eyes were still watery from the shock of having his ear nearly yanked up and so he looked down, towards the ground, so people wouldn't think he was crying.

"You ashamed of something," the fat overseer asked.  Chris didn't say anything. "Look up," said the overseer.  Chris kept looking down.  His chest moved in and out heavily and his fists were clenched, and he wasn't sure but he may have been crying normal tears by this point, but they were out of rage, not sadness.  Or—no…really what's the difference between those two, and it's impossible that the immense hopelessness of his situation and the utter retardation of his surroundings hadn't saddened somewhat.  If it were just rage making him cry then he would have also lashed out, punched the overseer or at least called him a name. No. No, the hopelessness must have stung enough to make him sad.  But his tears were out of rage primarily, and out of nothing even close to shame.

"Look up.  Now."

He did.  His jaw was clenched and his eyes were tightened into red little slits but he looked more defeated than mean, more helpless than threatening.

"I want you all to look at this face.  Soak it up.  Take it all in.  Done?  Give you another second.  Okay, now you're done.  This, people, is what failure looks like.  Some of you will see it again, right here.  This is what it looks like when you don't take yourself seriously, when you don't care enough about yourself to appreciate the chances that are being given to you."

He extended a demerit card towards the Chris’ face.  It was accepted without a whimper.

Weeks later, it came time for Chris and the gang to "graduate" from their classes.  By this point, Chris had gotten drunk several times (even puked, once) and tried to smoke pot a few times but it hadn't done anything to him.  Maybe he was just too drunk to feel it or he wasn't inhaling right, who knows.  Anyhow he figured a few bong hits wouldn't hurt before he had to show up to the ceremony, right, since he hadn't felt anything yet.  And, man, it was a blast because he was high as a fucking kite at the graduation, must have shoved 20 inches worth of the party sub into his mouth and downed at least 7 flutes of sparkling grape juice.  

His mother and stepfather—both stinking rich, by the way, disheartened by the lad's sudden fall from grace and more than a little pleased to see him making such a fast and exemplary recovery with the aid of such a caring and competent program—were dressed to the nines.  His mom was making time with the addicts.  This was her wont, the irresistible, flirty friendliness that drove her from the dregs of society (Chris' biological father) all the way to where she was today. While this was going on, Stepfather gracefully let loose to the riffraff around him all those little signs that showed that he was a kind man, but of great consequence.  He'd talk about sports while stretching him arm just so, just far enough to let his fancy watch fall into view.  He'd offer to lift heavy objects as an excuse to show off his bed-made tan, his gym-toned arms and back.  All of your jokes made him smile, but only just long enough for you to get a glimpse of his perfectly straight, snow white teeth. Both of them kept making their way over to Chris, who had stationed himself near the concessions table, to whisper into his ear how proud they were of him for pulling himself around and hint bluntly at him still receiving for his birthday a new car.  All the while, through this bleary, more-or-less with it haze, feeling content and calm with his surroundings and his high, Chris kept thinking about how much he had it made.  Everyone was a sucker, it seemed, but him.  Really, wow.  Everyone is stupid but me.

The soccer mom cut quickly around the room, stopping alongside each cluster of people and telling them that something important was about to happen,  it was time for everyone to walk into the little classroom where they normally met.  "You're not gonna want to miss this" she said, looking right into Chris with a mean little smile on her face that she knew would scare him.  Oh god, Chris though, she knew that he was high.  What was she in here for—ooh shit man, you've heard her talk about it 100 times.  Vicodin, right.  Vicodin and wine, passing out while one of her kids started a fire.  That's right.  Calm down. She wouldn't have known what someone looked like when he was high on pot.  Mom and Stepfather couldn't even tell and they saw Chris every day.  Calm down.

Chris shoved a few more bites of party sub into his mouth.  His mom laughed and said "getting better must make you work up an appetite, huh?"  Stepfather laughed.  Chris couldn't say anything, not even by the time they had walked all the way into the classroom and sat down on little folding chairs, because there was so much sandwich in his mouth.  Things began to quiet down within a couple of minutes. The overseer, smiling, poked his head out of his office and waved to the small crowd.  People clapped a little bit.  Chris noticed that "AWARDS RECEPTION" had been written on the blackboard with colored chalk, the letters alternating blue to red, blue to red.  A stack of certificates sat on the table up front.  The overseer waddled to the table and gestured towards his office and a large, black policeman walked from office to the entrance.  He looked all business.  There was another one who poked his head out from the office and then the overseer was still smiling, like the soccer mom he was wearing big, mean, fake smile and Chris sunk into his chair and moaned a little bit because he knew he was about to get arrested, again.  Arrested in front of his parents. 

Mom asked stepfather what the policemen were hear for the stepfather said—ahh the great rational bastard, it was all Chris could do to stop himself from hugging him—that since this was an official presentation, court mandated and all that, they must have some cops come and witness it.  That's all it was.  Nothing to get too upset about.  Still—gotta stay calm.  If the cops took no notice of Chris then they wouldn't take any notice of his being so incredibly fucking high. 

"Well," the overseer began.  Chris was hyperobservant and noncritical and he realized for the first time how long it took the overseer to get through sentences, because of all of his fat.  He'd pause every few words and take in a deep breath from his gut.  When he spoke it was in these bursts that were effeminately condescending but still bulky and powerful.  Like, if being told you were bad by a sharp-tongued gay man didn't hurt you then maybe being yelled at by an abusive gym coach would. Only he wasn't a gym coach and probably wasn't gay, either.  Talked about his wife and kids all the time.  This was an act.  He had measured out this persona for himself.  This was some kind of cruel professionalism.

Jesus, Chris thought to himself.  Pot fucks up the way you think about things.  How long had it been since they sat down?  How long since he'd been scared by the cops?  When was the guy going to start talking—ohh, wait he's already talking.  Might want to listen:

"And this is what this program is supposed to achieve: smiling faces.  Not just the smiling faces of those who are on roads to recovery—their own personal roads—but of their families and their friends.  The selfishness might end here.  The pain they have caused you, that they are sorry for, might end here.  But it's up to everyone here to make sure that all of these faces keep smiling."

He paused—too long.  Wanted people to clap for him.  They did.  Then they finished.  He continued.  His tone was different.  He had sounded like he was reading off a card.  Now he sounded more like he normally did, during classes.

"But it would be… hypocritical of me to let everyone who came here leave here, especially… if I knew that they would be making people start… to cry sometime soon.  Two of our friends will not be graduating today."

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

"The first… Rup-ERT Donwiddle."

Ahh.  Okay.  That guy—white guy, lots of scars—never even showed up after the first day.  He wasn't even here.  Chris sunk his head into his lap, like he was stretching or about to puke, while the overseer mumbled about how Rubert had squandered his chance for recovery and blah blah blah. 

"Rufus failed… due to lack of initiative.  He didn't come.  But every time we have this course, it seems… there is someone who does come…  but who shows such disrespect that he might as well not have"

The overseer's tone changed, again, abruptly but not in a way that seemed unplanned.  He was talking somewhere in between the rehearsed tone he'd used earlier and the mumbling, jumbled tone he used during regular meetings.  The air shifted around Chris.  It felt like strategy, men moving into position in order to accomplish some kind of task or anticipate some kind of resistance.  The bigger cop stood by the door that led to the outside, blocking it.  Meanwhile the guys who had missed the most class and been handed the most demerits began to shift in their seats a little bit while their wives looked at them in white fear, the sterile blank walls felt like they were closing in—that's what  expression actually meant, when it actually feels like the room you are in just got smaller, more oppressive—and the big fat fuck who ran the place worse the biggest fatfuck smile Chris had ever seen and he if had dropped dead of a heart attack no one with a mind or soul would have gotten up to help him.  In spite of all of this, the synchronization was such that Chris couldn't work up any fear.  He was too busy admiring the evil of the whole process. 

Chris took to talking to the soccer mom, a few months later, as part of some revenge scheme that never quite materialized.  He had first planned on sleeping with the woman and ruining her marriage.  When that didn’t work out he thought about maybe figuring out the vulnerabilities of her home and passing that knowledge on to some unseemly sorts who, god willing, would have raped, robbed, and kill her.  He didn't do that, though, for the same reason he didn't speak up during the meeting when the police were blocking off the door and overseer was smiling the very worst smile the world had ever seen:  because the woman's evil was so immense that he could barely process it, could do little else, in fact, aside from sitting back and admiring it.  What he learned from her, after she had opened up to him and filled him on all the details, was that if you didn't pass the rehab course it counted as either a violation of your parole or else as a violation of your court sentence, so your failure was akin to skipping bail trying to escape from prison.   That's to say it was a Very Serious offense, one that could put you in prison for a long, long time.  And what the overseer hadn't told to anybody but the soccer mom, who was his favorite, was that his policy was that out of every class there had to be at least one addict who failed to pass in spite of showing up, one person who because of this or that reason simply did not deserve to consider his or her self cured of their addiction.  That's what the demerits were for. Whoever got the most failed the course.  You couldn't tell the whole class about this since then the people who got the most demerits early on would have stopped coming all together.  On top of that, if you got into a situation where a few weeks in one guy had racked up 20 or 30 demerits, then that more or less lightens the stakes for everyone else.  They'll start mouthing off or falling asleep since they know they'll never make up enough demerits to catch the worst guy, and then by the end of it you'd have been better off not doing any sort of demerit system at all.  No—no, the trick was to keep it a surprise.  That had two positives:  one, you catch the guy by surprise and make sure he gets what's coming to him.  Two, you put the fear of god into the others who are all sitting around watching.  That's when they got taught what happens if you don't respect the things you should.

All Chris knew at the time of meeting was that the balding factory worker, Hank was his name, was getting pulled up really unnecessarily roughly by the cop, had his arms thrown behind his back, and was getting cuffed and pushed out of the room while his teenage daughter was screaming in abject terror and his wife was burying her head in her hands and then the two women sat there while the smiling overseer berated Hank, talked about how he needed to learn how to accept help and how this was for the good of him and his family and You two ladies should stop crying, it's pointless, what you need right now is strength, loyalty, and conviction.  Hank had blown .02 over the legal limit at a road block.  He insisted he hadn't had a drop to drink in months, not since his first DUI, that he couldn't perform the heel-to-toe sobriety test successfully because of a fully documented injury he had sustained during Desert Storm and that the alcohol on his breath—which came up on only one of the 5 breathalyzers he was given—must have been from gum or mouthwash or cologne or something.  His parole was zero tolerance, though, and so he found himself at the meetings.  Every week he told the overseer that something he had said was bullshit.  He wouldn't say "My name is Hank and I'm a narcotic," he said, because that is just fucking stupid.  He wouldn't apologize for hurting anybody because he hadn't hurt anybody.  He wouldn't lie for the sake of lying because goddamn it that's not what this country is about.

And for that he went to prison.

Coming face-to-face with the reality of just how cruel and unfair the system is can, especially for a teenager, lead to a distrust so strong and all encompassing that it borders on despair.  This distrust can, sometimes, be healthy and inspire you to try and change things.  More often, it can grow into full-blown hatred, a maniacal desire to change things or to right wrongs that leads you to do something rash or destructive.  Still more often, it leads to a sense of defeatism, a feeling that you can't win since the system is so fucked so why the hell should you even try.  At least, that's what I gather from hearing Chris talk about it.  That's probably what I would have done if something like that would have happened to me.  I would have given up and failed.

And for the longest time Chris had given up and had failed. He drank and drugged and destroyed.  This made him a blast to hang out with.  This was when he still lived in Alton and I would see him once every few months, when I was at home visiting my family.  My sister moved to Garden City to attend the university at which I now teach.  Most of her friends soon followed suit.  He was left behind.  As I am self-absorbed to the point where I don't care about my friend's lives except for when their stories are particularly miserable or amusing, I don't know much about this time period except that it saw Chris turning things somewhat around.  Not by much.  He still drinks far too much.  But he's in school now—he's at the school where I teach, actually, although I've never had him for a student. 

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Midnight ball | Chuuya x reader |

Midnight Ball | Chuuya x reader | (female reader)

I feel like I'm doing Chuuya dirty with this one-

Warnings- references to some NSFW themes, inferred attempted rape, mentions of drug use.

(really hesitant on actually posting this... nothing happens, but I don't wanna make people too uncomfortable)

Undercover missions were normal in the port mafia. Every once in a while they would come up. You went on a lot of these missions. Even the ones you didn’t care for.

The air was brisk, not too cold, but not a comfortable warmth either. It wasn’t every day you were called in on what should have been your day off. The clouds covered the noon sun, keeping its warmth tucked away. It felt as if it may rain. Maybe snow would fall with how cold the air was. The trees were bare of their leaves and the grass slowly warping to brown. The winter flowers, in full bloom. You shivered tugging the scarf closer as you walked towards the black buildings. Stepping inside was bliss, the air warm and welcoming. You walked slowly towards the elevator stepping inside as it carried you to the level Mori’s office was.

Making your way into the office, your eyes landed on the short male you had become close to. Running a hand through your hair you looked to Mori. “Ya know it’s my day off right? This better be important.” you had guts talking to your boss like this. Elise snickered from the corner of the large room, drawing a picture. Most likely something rather disturbing, as she tended to do.

You hadn’t noticed it before, but Chuuya’s face was contorted in both disgust and anger. Whatever this was, gave him quite displeasure. “He’s having us go undercover. Instead of picking another female… he’s making me wear a fucking dress.” his eyes narrowed in Mori's direction.

“Well, you work well with (y/n). I carefully considered members like Kouyou, but none of them matched what I needed for the minor mission." Mori grinned as Chuuya huffed, crossing his arms.

You tried to imagine him in a dress, but the only thing that you could think of was Kouyou, considering they did both have ginger hair. Shrugging you grabbed Chuuya’s hand, tugging him away. You figured he could brief you on the mission later.

~

As the sun fell under the horizon, and the moon took its place in night's embrace, the two of you settled inside the limo. Chuuya’s arms were crossed as he tugged on the dress. His eyes set in heavy glares. His hair happened to be up in a neat bun. It had taken a lot of fighting and shouting that could have deafened somebody. He was even dolled up with light specks of makeup. The red dress suited his form, his height made it ideal for heels. He already had a feminine figure, so there wasn’t much you needed to do to pass him as a female. He kept squirming around glaring at you. “How the fuck do girls wear these dreaded things.” he hissed, referring to the corset hidden beneath the silk he wore.

Snickering you shrugged leaning back. “They say beauty is pain,” you hummed, leaning back in your seat. This wasn’t ideal for you either. You much preferred to be slightly dressed down from this. Looking as fancy as you did now wasn’t modest, and it sure wasn’t something you liked to wear. You were sucking it up so why couldn’t Chuuya? Could he really be all that uncomfortable? “I could loosen it a bit.” you offered, but Chuuya shook his head staring at himself. He had mastered heals within a handful of moments so you weren’t worried about him tripping. The real challenge would be flirting with the target.

This was a two-person job due to the size of the party and the security around the target. One of you would distract the guards while the other smooth-talked their way into a private area with the target. They would either get the extent of the information this person had managed to take early this morning or silence him. You two hadn’t decided who would be doing what. It was more one of those whoever gets there first situations. The car pulled up to the entrance just as your thoughts finished. Stepping onto the ground you waited for Chuuya. The clunk of his heels on the pavement were steady and even. You went to remind him about his expression, but he rolled his eyes. “I know, no scowling, glaring, or yelling.”

You smiled gripping the edge of the dress, pulling it up so you could walk the stairs without tripping on the (f/c) fabric. Your hair was down but pinned in specific places. “Don’t forget, no swearing. We have to act ladylike Chu.” clicking his tongue, he pinched the fabric of his dress and walked up after you. Entering the large mansion you were escorted to the ballroom. Standing at the railing that overlooked the floor you smiled. Never in your life had you been to one of these. You truly wanted to participate at least a little.

Chuuya noticed the excited glimmer of your eyes and grabbed your hand. Tonight, you both were trying to pass as two female teenage siblings whose parents wanted a night alone. Without a boyfriend, the two of you showed up alone. A naive action when it came to noble parties. These were incredible to get into. You had to have power and money somewhere. He pulled you down the stairs, flashing you a small smile. He wouldn’t admit but this wasn’t that bad. He didn’t mind the corset or the way the dress flowed in the wind. He minded the hair since he always wore it in one specific style. He’d done this once before with Dazai but doing this with you was different. Probably because he wasn’t being forced to be the fiance this time. “We might as well try to enjoy ourselves.” he was surprisingly skilled at keeping his voice higher in pitch. There were a few occasional slips, but he sounded somewhat feminine.

Smirking you pulled him to the food table. “I’d say you're actually enjoying yourself Chu.” his eyes narrowed for a second before playfully hitting your shoulder.

“Sure I am.” he huffed looking over the table of snacks. He grabbed one of the tea-sandwiches and took small bites. Despite how he tried to enjoy himself, he was focused on the mission. There was still no sign of the target. Two older-looking gentlemen came up to the pair of you, holding their hands out.

“Would you two care for a dance?” Chuuya’s mouth twitched to snarl, but he quickly put on a smile despite how much he wanted to string profanities. You glanced at him, inhaling softly, you tapped his shoulder as if to reassure him.

“Depends~ how old do you think we are?” you two had decided on your roles already. To spare Chuuya some dignity you would try to be the more seductive while he played the part of the shyer, more innocent twin. Since he was a boy playing a girl, he matched the innocent child-like stereotype well, considering he didn’t have breasts.

One of the men standing in front of you chuckled lightly. “Teens, though it’s not like we're hitting on you. We simply wish to take you for a dance. You appear lonely.” Chuuya was sick to his stomach already. The last time he’d done this he didn’t have to deal with these situations because Dazai had been there. Yet, as he looked to you, he tilted his head. Your hand grabbed the man's as you looked back to Chuuya.

“Trust me, it’ll be fun. There aren't any men our age, so trust me.” the act flew softly off your lips. There was a hidden motion when you flicked your ankle. It would have passed as your feet were slightly sore to anybody else. Chuuya glanced to the railing, spotting the target. He nodded, faking a smile as the two of you entered the dance floor.

With every pulse of the music, you got closer and closer to the edge. Your eyes tracing for the amount of guards. Though based on what you were observing you had both already found them. It was a widely known fact your target had a thing for younger females. Not young like Elise but teenagers who appear frail. You and Chuuya most definitely looked the part tonight. Dipping you back your eyes met Chuuya's, a smirk crossing both of your expressions. When you returned to the normal position you switched partners.

Things started going slightly south from there. While you two had managed to keep your dancing rather close to one another, you were starting to drift apart now. Chuuya moved closer to the stairwell, while you made your way towards the back doors. Despite how you tried to move back towards him, your dance partner kept you moving in that direction. Eventually, you noted what was going on. Occasionally these types of missions had unexpected twists. This was one of those twists. You hadn’t thought to watch for other predators. Trying to rip your hands from his you glared. “I ought to get back to my sister.” you wove innocence into your voice, but he paid no mind as if he had not heard you. As the music ended, the rough grip that had succeeded in pulling the two of you apart let go. A silent satisfactory smirk placed over his lips. Walking from you he headed back to find another dancing partner.

Walking around you began to search for Chuuya among the crowd. Innocently asking couples and other women if they had seen a short, rather young-looking female ginger dressed in red. They had shaken their heads but one couple pointed towards the stairs. You curtsied respectfully, racing to the stairs only to be stopped by the two men you had previously been dancing with. Batting your eyelashes you explained somebody had seen your sister walk up these stairs not too long ago.

You couldn’t help but feel worried despite knowing Chuuya could handle himself with the utmost care. He was strong both physically and ability-wise. You bit the inside of your cheek figuring, they probably weren't idiots. If they had separated the two of you they had to think you already knew something was up. You'd probably made that worse when you tried pulling away in the dance. The high-heels were beginning to get rather annoying. They were difficult to run in, jumping would probably result in a twisted ankle if you don't land perfectly. You made sure to blend away into the crowd. Losing their eyes you slipped through doors until you made it into a hallway. Laying out the map of the building in your head you walked the halls trying to find the staircase leading upstairs. You had to dodge behind corners to avoid security. It took you close to ten minutes to finally reach the stairs. There were so many rooms it would be difficult to find which one to enter. You narrowed it down to two in your head. The others would be a waste of time, the two you had narrowed it to were close to the ballroom, small, and were bar areas. Off-limits to party-goers as well. There would be no interruptions to their perverted actions.

You looked around, spotting a guard, you gripped the edge of your glove with your teeth. Walking up as if you were scared you began to stumble purposely over words. “I-i think I’m lost. I needed the ladies room and I couldn't find my sis or the ballroom.” faking tears as you got closer, the security officer's eyes softened as you approached. Taking you as a younger female instead of an adult, he offered out his hand. You gripped it before smirking as your ability activated. Moving your hand away, you tilted your head. “Sleep,” you commanded them. They fell to the floor with a thud. Grabbing the gun from their belt you checked that the safety was on. Assured it was you stashed it in your dress. Walking to the first room you burst inside finding no sign anybody had been there, you closed the door.

Making your way to the next option you pressed an ear to the door. Whispers and the sound of metal sent you to a light panic. Glaring at the door you pulled the gun out and switched the safety off. Entering the room you pointed the gun only to hear clicks follow. Your eyes darted to the sound. “So there were four.” snarling you entered and shut the door with your heel. Your mind began thinking of every way to get away from this situation. You lowered your gun with a defeated sigh. Letting it drop to the floor, one of the guns pressed to your head. Their hand grabbed your wrist as you looked to the mop of passed-out ginger.

“Damn idiot,” you hissed knowing this was probably the result of drugging. There was no way in hell he’d be beaten by mere ability-less scum. Shoved to the floor you glared. Your hands were pulled above you. Looking to the side you snickered at the poor idiot who touched your skin. “Kill your boss,” you commanded and their body dropped you and turned to the person whose hands were on your love interest. When the next guy pointed the gun at you, you swept them off their feet, whistled, and pointed. “Shoot them.” with another fire, two of three were dead. “Now shoot yourself.” and so they ended up three of three. Tossing off the heels you made your way over to Chuuya. Checking his pulse you rolled your eyes.

You lifted him in your arms before leaving the bloody scene. Your dress was now stained with splatters of crimson. Jumping from the window, then to a tree, and down, you placed Chuuya in the limo. Grabbing a bottle of water you opened his mouth and poured it down his throat. He stirred a bit, his head falling on your shoulder. Blushing lightly you found the back of his dress was open and the corset already loosened. “Got there just in time.” you sighed as the limo pulled to your small apartment. Lifting him you carried him inside. Dropping him to the bed you sat on the opposite side of the bed.

It took three hours before his eyes fluttered open. Holding his head, he glanced at you. “Why the fuck are you here?” of course his first words would be aggressive. He could hide it all he wanted by the shiver of his body and the way his hands moved to his back made it clear. Finding the strings and ribbon undone as well as torn his eyes widened for a fraction.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to be separated like that.” you played around with your gloves looking back at him you pulled a thing of makeup wipes from the side table. Tossing it to him, you sighed. “I hope you don’t mind, I had Dazai lock pick your door and get you your usual clothes.” he couldn’t even be mad at you for letting that bastard into his house. His mind was still focused on recollecting what had happened. He was beyond humiliated. He should have seen it coming. “I should have gotten there faster. They shouldn’t have been able to even get that close. I’m so sorry Chuuya! I’ll talk to Mori about not putting you on these types of missions. I know you're mad but please… say something.” you twirled a strand of your hair on your finger.

“I should have been prepared.” he looked away from you before feeling your arms around his body. Your head laid in the crook of his neck as you shook your head violently. He felt something wet soil, the shoulder of his dress. Turning so he could pick your head up, he blinked, startled to see the water dripping from your eyes. “You’re crying?” he sounded baffled, confused even.

“I should have let you be yourself! If I hadn’t pushed you to act like an innocent defenseless child, that situation would have been different.'' Chuuya gripped your shoulders laughing lightly as he shook his head. “You didn’t even have a good time! You hated being there.”

“No, no, (y/n)... I... Fuck!” he was bad at words, so as he tried forming the correct words he kept shaking his head. “I enjoyed spending time with you! I’d prefer to accompany you as a man next time. Neither of us are at fault. Missions go south. Nobody got hurt, sure I feel like an idiot, I’m utterly humiliated that I let my guard down and got drugged up, but nothing happened.” he pressed his forehead against yours, his thumb wiping away the tears on your cheeks.

This was out of character for him, but it was a side only you gotta see. He hated seeing you break down or get upset over things you had no control over. His hands wrapped around your ungloved ones. Your skin touches him with a small shyness. “Can I?” he asked watching you nod as his lips passed over yours.

“We both deserve a break from work. How about we tell Mori we are taking two days off?” you hummed looking into his eyes. He smirked and nodded. His lips pressing back to yours in a heated kiss. You pressed him underneath you with a smirk. His face went red as he glared.

“You’re a fucking pervert.” he hissed watching you snicker.

“Wow Chu, I'm so offended.” you leaned back into a kiss as his cheeks turned a brighter shade of red. “Think this makes us a real couple.” he rolled his eyes as you rolled to lay next to him.

“Yeah, I guess.”

[donaidk]

Marcus Armstrong - Almost Home I.

In advance: This is getting a Part 2 for sure. I don’t want to leave it here, but at the same time I felt like it would be really long if I left it in one piece. Turns out I have a whole lot of inspiration for Marcus fics right now. 😂 I also wanna let everyone, who’s waiting for their request, know that uni is starting next week for me. It means less free time, but I will make sure to finish every one of them in the next week or so, and then focus on all the series I started. There’s gonna be slower updates to them, but I’ll make sore to have one or two per week at least. Hopefully they won’t try to kill us in the starting weeks and I will finish up the Lando one so I could start posting that every week and just add some parts from the others to the queue 😊

Thank you Anon for requesting this one though, and sorry for the wait. Hope you will enjoy it and as it’s almost the next day here, have a really happy start to your Friday everyone 🧡

Kind of Taglist: @mickschumcher​, @art-gp​

Title Song | Masterlist | Taglist/Queue | Request

With the Australian GP knocking on the door Melbourne filled up with tourists and fans even more than usual. The first time I got to witness it in 2017 was actually scary in a way for someone who didn’t know the city well yet. Getting from one part of the city to another was a hard task already, and all the shouting and crazy fans weren’t of much help when I tried to get some usable info out of them so I could finally get to my destination and get off the streets. It almost held me back from choosing Melbourne’s university, but I had to remind myself that it was just once a year and I shouldn't give up my plans because of it. Melbourne was beautiful and their schools were highly rated, giving me everything for a stable future. Luckily I was never disappointed by my choices as it was easy to get used to the life here and I even found some new friends who helped me every time I felt homesick. It wasn’t the worst usually, as I was truly content with how my life was going, but sometimes it just hit me out of nowhere and in those moments they were always there for me.

It was now the third year when we lived through the race weekend, meaning we finally had a working schedule with which we still followed our usual plans but stayed out of the bigger crowds. Although we were in the middle of the semester we always found time to enjoy the still warm weather and spend most of our free time outside. Usually our choice was the beach for the afternoons as even though it was packed until noon, the tourists never stayed for long. We usually arrived in the late afternoon and stayed well after the sun went down, and the temperature went down a little finally. The water usually stayed comfortable until later in the evening making it bearable for almost a whole 24 hours if you weren’t squeamish. Even if you were after spending a few weeks at the beach, everyone got used to it.

As soon as everyone finished with their lectures we got our things together and took the 5 minutes walk down to the beach. We had a favourite spot which was luckily never taken when we got down there. For a few minutes we just sat down, talking about our weeks. I shared a dorm room with two other girls, but we had a few friends who had their own apartments or lived with their family a bit farther away from our university. We usually had one or two days every week to catch up with them as in between lectures we were either too tired or didn’t have the time to do so. But most of the afternoons were ours fully and we used it the best we could to relax but still use that time to make memories for the few years we’re spending together. We could say it’s gonna stay the same after we graduate but everyone knew we would move to different countries as soon as we weren’t connected to Australia. Even I planned to go home, although I enjoyed living here and getting to be independent without my family behind my back.

“ Are you coming? ” One of the girls asked me, as they were already walking down to the water, while I was still standing around our towels with my phone in my hand. I was in the middle debating which sunset photo I should post from my gallery, but her voice made me look up.

“ Just a second. I’ll catch up. ” I smiled at her before looking back down at my screen. In the end my finger finally tapped the posting button and I pushed it aside while I got the sundress off that was on over my bikini.

Right before I would have ran after the girls, the device was back in my hands so I could check that the picture uploaded without a problem. A smile got on my face when I saw a reaction from one of my family members but as soon as it showed the whole list of the people who looked at my story, it faded away. For the past few months whenever I posted something he was always there in the first few seconds or at least minutes. I couldn’t understand what changed that he showed up in my life again, but I didn't really want to give him space in my thoughts either. It has been almost 4 years since we last talked and could call each other best friends, but I wasn’t about to take the first step and message him after he forgot about me until now. I just dropped my phone back into my bag, closing it and then caught up with my friends so they could make me forget about him again.

We spent quite some time in the water, swimming a few laps back and forth before just standing around and enjoying the last rays of sunshine while we chatted away. My thoughts were already in a different direction thanks to all the different topics that came up between us. Sometimes it was harder to make me forget time and time again, but turns out today I only needed some distraction and everything was set for an enjoyable night. With the sun completely off the sky the temperature dropped quickly and it was getting a bit chilly  for my liking in just a few minutes. When it was truly uncomfortable I gave up and walked back to the shore, sitting down on my own blanket and draping my towel around my shoulders. It immediately brought enough warmth over my body that I stopped shivering and could wait for them until they would get cold too. Until then I just went onto my phone to go through some posts of my friends. Sometimes I looked up to check on them just so they wouldn’t leave me out of something. One of those times I saw a person coming my way and although I didn’t mind too much attention to it, when he continued and there was no one else in my close proximity I felt like he might be coming to me. In the end I was right as he turned right towards me and then stopped just a few steps away from our blankets.

“ Never thought you would exchange our lovely and perfect red stars for ugly white ones. ” He spoke up and I could recognise the voice even though his face was almost unseeable thanks to him standing with his back towards the moon. My jaw dropped immediately and I felt like I grew roots into the ground as I couldn’t move my body. “ If you want me to fuck off, just tell me. It’s okay. I just thought we could maybe talk, and from the pictures I saw that you’re here. Hoped you didn’t go home yet so I could catch you and... ” He started rambling but I was quick to finally push myself up and hug him immediately. I always imagined our reunion with me being angry at him, but somehow I couldn’t get myself to feel that way now that he was standing right in front of me.

“ You idiot. ” I told him not leaving any space for questions and I could feel as he finally relaxed and hugged me back. “ The biggest in the whole world. ” I added with a sigh, closing my eyes as my brain started functioning again and I had an urge to kick his shin at least.

“ I can live with that. ” Marcus let out a laugh and I could feel as my heart jumped a little at the sound. It was something that always reminded me of our home and spending every possible second together. “ I’m sorry for disappearing. ” He let out a sigh, letting go of me only when we realised my wet bathing suit soaked his shirt, although even he didn’t care about it for too long.

“ What are you doing here? I thought F2 wasn't coming here. ” I asked him confused, knowing that we wouldn’t be in this situation if he traveled here for one of the races in the past two years. “ Not like I’m complaining, but I can hardly believe my own eyes and senses. ” I shook my head a little before looking up at him again. He changed, quite a bit since we last met and even though I saw pictures of him it was different in a face-to-face situation.

“ Ferrari invited a few of us so we could gather some experience. The speed I accepted the offer with might have raised some eyebrows. ” Marcus hid his face in his palm, making me chuckle as I could see the situation unfold in front of my eyes like I was there. “ Thought I would DM you and ask if you wanted to meet up maybe. But I realized it would be better offline. ” I had to roll my eyes at his first idea although I knew he wasn’t lying and it for sure went through his brain as a real possibility.

“ You’re lucky you didn’t. I would have blocked you forever I think. My plan was connecting my fist with your face if we ever meet again, right until you showed up here. ” I shook my head with a smile, as I wasn’t proud of what I wanted to do to him. “ I was really angry when you just stopped talking to me. I tried so hard to reach you, but it felt like you didn’t even exist anymore even though they were talking about you almost every week. ” I sighed, sitting back down and leaving enough space for him too.

“ Would have been deserved actually. ” His fingers scratched at the nape of his neck and I could see the tint of purple traveling up his neck. I watched him as he sat down, pulling his legs up and resting his arms onto them. “ I really am sorry. For a part everything got busy with all the training, races and studying, but at the same time I know damn well a message here and there should have been possible. I messed up, everything. ” His eyes shined even in the minimal light of the moon, and I could get myself to look away. Even feeling the burning stares on my back from my friends didn’t get me to turn around.

“ I won’t say that it’s okay, but I accept your apology. How could I not. ” I let out a breath that I realized was still stuck in me since the initial surprise took over my body. “ It feels like we didn’t even skip over like 3 years of each other’s life. Only difference is that you’re finally taller than me, but the baby face’s still there. ” My hand went up to his cheek to pat it gently like my grandma did for him all the time when he came over for lunch. He always hated it but knew that it was a gesture of love from her and a way to show Marcus that she considered him part of our family.

“ Yeah, I guess it’s going to stay forever. ” Marcus huffed, moving his head back a little to avoid my attack, although he failed miserably. “ I almost forgot, congrats for uni. I remember how hard you were studying to get in. Everyone home was ecstatic when I told them about it. ” His hand slapped his forehead, making me laugh with his expression at the slight stinging he caused himself.

“ Thank you, but it’s nothing compared to your second place last year. ” I shrugged a little but as soon as his lips pulled into a slight smirk my eyes rolled on their own. “ Surprise, surprise, I followed your career. Just as much as you followed my life for the past few months. ” I poked him in the ribs with my finger, making him wince for a second before we both started laughing at the little sound he made.

“ Fair. I still hate how Instagram shows who opened your stories. ” He shook his head a little and both of our heads turned towards the water when we realized the background chatting was getting closer and closer to where we were sitting. They were just a few meters away when my eyes landed on their figures and I sensed when Marcus stood up from next to me, making me push myself up too.

I didn’t feel too anxious about him meeting my other friends, although I knew what this meant for my evening at the dorm with them. They would have an immense amount of questions both about him and us, even though I already mentioned him when we were bringing up our past. A few of them even knew about my past feelings about him and how him reappearing on my socials played with my emotions, but they only saw a few photos of him. This was another level and I knew he would be the topic for at least the next week between us, for one reason or another. Depends on how we get on from this point and if we manage to keep in contact when they have to fly away again.

“ Oh, I knew it wasn’t just my imagination. I told you someone was coming here. ” My roommate spoke up as soon as they got close enough to make us out from the darkness. “ You’re Marcus, right? ” She stepped right in front of him, reaching her hand out while introducing herself. I always admired her boldness even in front of strangers.

“ Yes, although I didn’t know so many people knew me from here. ” Marcus let out an uneasy chuckle, looking at me a bit concerned. I just shook my head dismissively, almost telling him that it was just a ‘Girl group’ thing. Relief washed over me though that I didn’t share a lot about him, behind his back.

I watched from the sideline as everyone introduced themselves to him and for a second it felt domestic as all of them shot me a concerned glance towards me. It felt like they would pounce at him if they saw that I was uncomfortable in his presence. While it made me feel loved in a way, I also didn’t want them to really chip on the situation. It was something that better dealt with in private as I felt like we had to talk lots of things through to get back to the friendship we left behind years ago. This wasn’t the setting for a conversation like that.

“ We should probably get home before it gets really late. School won’t wait in the morning. ” I spoke up before any of them could start questioning him. We would never be able to get going then. “ Maybe we can catch up sometime before the race? I’m sure you will have enough to do during the weekend. ” I turned back towards Marcus who looked just as relieved as I did seconds ago.

“ Yeah, that would be better. Maybe lunch, or a coffee in the afternoon? Whenever you’re free of course. ” He nodded a little, still glancing at the girls who were either packing up or staring him down behind me.

“ I’m up for either of those. Surprise me. ” I grinned at him, feeling the pull on my arm when everyone was ready. “ Is your number the same? ” I asked him, already taking a step back, but waiting for his answers.

“ Yes. Never changed. ” Marcus nodded again, a little smile playing on his lips at the idea that we’re going to meet up again probably. At least I hoped so. Why else would he stalk me down and come up to me for a chat?

“ I’m gonna text you in the morning when’s my last lecture. We can meet up after that. ” I told them, before turning around with one last wave and catching up to my group. I could only hope that they would at least let me sleep before the questions start pouring out of them all at once.