#our here kicking ass in doc martens I LOVE YOU

[hearts1ckness]

ive had vash the stampede for approximately 40 minutes and if anything happens to him i will kill everyone on the planet and then myself

[ahkaahshi]

jujutsu kaisen x off-duty looks [hcs]

characters: getou suguru, gojou satoru, chōsō, nanami kento

genre: freeform (this is just me going off on a tangent about a topic and characters I love)

warning(s): n/a

overview: an analysis of potential looks some of our fav jjk men could be servin after hours that reeks of my personal aesthetic and was fueled by this ask

notes: this should really be called jjk x runway fashion with the looks I picked lol. anyway, I'm gonna tag my fellow chōsō lover whose goth boyfie chōsō description gave me inspiration @wasabito​, my fellow fashionistas @mi-yams​ + @osamusmiya​ and my two homies I discussed my ideas with to make sure they weren't too insane @miya-whore​ + @sunascamroll. ty my loves ❤️

you are here ⭐︎ PART 2 ⭐︎ PART 3

GETOU SUGURU -> structure? who is she?

getou is a comfy king and doesn’t wanna have his movement restricted by structured garments! hell no! when he’s not murdering the general population, he’s most likely chillin in layer upon layer of long, flowing pieces that just accentuate his tall figure and make him look even more dominating tbh. since he usually dresses in all black, his looks consist of a variety of different materials/finishes just to create some surface interest because there’s not much happening in terms of colors. adds jewel tones (purples, greens, and reds) or a patterned piece to contrast the sea of darkness that is his outfit from time to time. necklaces are his go to accessories when he wants to be extra and they make him look real pretty n soft. his boots may seem simple but they’re still made for stomping. don't underestimate him since he could take a mf out without even taking a step.

featured designers/brands: yohji yamamoto, louis vuitton, berluti

GOJOU SATORU -> yes he’s actually older than nanami is!

is that a high school student? no! that’s gojou satoru! his style is youthful and somewhat playful because he wants to be hip really doesn’t take a lot of things that seriously and likes to mix up his wardrobe. while he often sticks to neutral color palettes, he does enjoy dressing up in cute pastel looks to brighten his day a bit more and make himself look like even more of a dream. another king who enjoys unrestricted movement with relaxed fits made of comfortable materials! is naturally attracted to shiny things so it’s no surprise he enjoys decking those pretty fingers of his out in rings whenever he has the chance (plus he likes the sound they make against anything he holds). completes his look with a fresh pair of sneakers that won't slow him down if he suddenly has to kick a special grade’s ass. but we all know that's no biggie for him anyway.

featured designers/brands: louis vuitton, converse, adidas

CHŌSŌ -> a techwear king

from a distance, chōsō may just look like a man who’s trying really hard to be cozy beneath all his layers. and that’s partially true! however, he piles clothes on with intent! although he’s a no frills kinda guy, he finds comfort in all the features of techwear because every one of them is ✨functional✨ you’ll never have to worry about carrying a bag again with the pocket palooza happening on his body! but seriously, the man knows how to pull off baggy clothes, that’s for sure, and he does it with the help of industrial belts or straps that make his waist look snatched and his legs look hot. since he has an affinity for the nighttime, he enjoys blending in with blacks or grays, but he’s not opposed to throwing a shock of white, yellow, red, or electric blue into his looks with an accessory or by incorporating it into one of his many layers. and, of course, he finishes off every outfit with a pair of platform combat boots since he’s always ready to throw down and wants to look good while doing it (like he has to try pfft).

featured designers/brands: louis vuitton, virgil abloh/off-white, doc martens, nike, adidas

NANAMI KENTO -> all his outfits are made of husband material

if there’s one thing nanami knows, it’s how to WORK a business look, even after hours! once he’s clocked out though, he tends to favor more relaxed silhouettes and materials, swapping his heavily structured suits for garments with just a tad more ease and drape. because of his serious and to the point personality, it often comes as a surprise that he takes his looks just as seriously and is always keen to find ways he can elevate them (which explains his luxury belt collection that he subtly flexes on everyone). he prefers warm, neutral tones such as browns, grays, and navy but isn’t opposed to adding a dash of pastels or even silky, peachy hues to complement his skin tone. dress boots are the way to go for him since they’re classy but also demand attention with the way he wears em. every time the group hangs out after work, he always gets complimented on his fits (as he should), and often has pictures taken of him by fashion photographers on the street since he looks runway ready at all times.

featured designers/brands: dior, louis vuitton, dunhill, gucci, vetements, berluti 

[theteddylupinexperience]

The Concert | Dio Morrissey x f!reader

AN: not a lot to say about this one, aside from the fact that I’m actually really happy with how it turned out. I always love the “best friend’s younger sister” trope, and who better to do it with than our goth king himself. Thanks as always to @pascalpanic for hyping me up and listening to me rant about mosh pits. Enjoy!

Warnings: swearing, kissing, super mild punk show related violence, brief anxiety mention, Dio is a little cringey but you like it

“Kiddo, you’re not even gonna have fun,” your brother swears, “this band is harsh no doubt, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“As sweet as your over protection is, you’re not ditching me tonight,” you roll your eyes. Your brother is sitting on your bathroom counter watching you get ready for the concert he promised a month ago he’d take you to. You know his concern comes from a genuine place, you’d only gotten into the goth scene fairly recently, and long time fans can be really intense with “virgins.”

“Hey, uh, is Shane gonna be there?” you ask, casually as you can manage. You attempt to continue with your black eyeshadow to avoid eye contact with your brother, but he sees right through you anyways.

“First of all, you have to call him Dio while we’re in public. You are not killing the vibe on your induction night. Second of all, gross. I’m sitting right here. Drool over my best friend on your own time.” Your brother pokes your forehead with one of your makeup brushes in a scolding manor.

“Okay well first of all,” you start, “this is my time because this is my bathroom. And second of all… do YOU have any weird nickname I should be aware of before I, and I quote, kill the vibe?”

Your brother flushes slightly, looking at the ground before answering, “Uh, it’s Ghost, actually.”

You narrow your eyes at him, biting back a laugh at how ridiculous he looks, bright red ears contrasting the Doc Martens currently kicking against the floor.

“Dio and… Ghost?” He just nods, looking up at you finally.

“Well alright, my knights in dirty ass Tripp pants.” The comment earns you a laugh, and you feel a small swell of pride rise in your chest. For as insufferable as you found each other a lot of the time, your older brother really was like your best friend. His group of friends had stuck together since middle school, and had absolutely taken you under their wing when you’d let yourself really fall into your darker side. Tonight was your first real night out with everyone, and you couldn’t pretend to be more nervous. You had known your brother’s best friend Shane, Dio, since you were in third grade and had always found him fascinating. You can’t deny that he’s gorgeous, tall and lean, always wearing a leather trench coat that accentuates those features. Full, plush lips, and deep brown eyes that you want to get lost in. Just as you find yourself actually getting lost in the thought of Dio, you’re startled back to reality when your brother turns your hair dryer on and blows it in your face.

“Yo, kid, did I lose you? We gotta go,” in your trance he’s managed to get his hair done and a subtly cool amount of eyeliner. You can only hope not to look like a child, or god forbid a drone, next to him and his friends. “Don’t be nervous, just get your shoes on.”

When you get your boots laced up, you give yourself one last glance in the mirror, fluffing your hair to make it look less obviously styled, and run out the door.

When you arrive at the venue, if you could call it that, it looks more like a rundown warehouse, the music is already in full swing. “The openers always fuckin’ suck, kid,” your brother had told you, “we always show up at least an hour late.”

You’re rocking nervously on your heels, stuck to the ground where your brother had told you to wait while he found the group and brought them over to you. You smile widely when you see them approaching you, but are quick to cover it with what you hope is a cool smirk. Out of place doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel, it would be more accurate to say you’re on a different plane of existence. You’ve managed to transcend discomfort and now have settled into a calmer state.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Wednesday Addams herself,” a deep voice calls out from the head of the pack.

“Hey Sh- uh, Dio,” you stammer as the king himself puts his hands on your shoulders to inspect your outfit. Your stomach drops when he brushes some hair from your face. “You look good. Like you put some thought into how you look, unlike the rest of these drones.” Your face lights up at his praise, and flushes quickly when he winks at you.

Your group makes their way towards the front of the stage when you hear the headlining band announced. The first few songs go off without a hitch, the crowd moves in a seething, pulsing way to the music, and you find yourself moving along with them. You catch Dio’s eyes a couple times to find him already looking at you, his expression relaxed and amused, but his eyes dark as he takes in everything around him. You’re about to walk over and ask him to dance with you when you hear from the stage, “Alright everybody, let’s open this fucking pit!”

Your eyes widen briefly, but you try your best to stay cool in front of your brother and his friends. You can only imagine how lame Dio would find you if you lost your cool because of some moshing. Unfortunately, in your attempt to save face, you’ve distracted yourself to the people around you and find yourself getting shoved, almost to the ground. Your brother hurries over and helps you up, and you assure him you’re fine. It’s nothing you can’t handle. He keeps his grip on you a moment longer, and ruffles your hair before jumping into the circle pit himself. You do your best to keep dancing around, staying away from everyone jumping and shoving each other as much as you can, and for a few minutes you’re surprisingly successful.

The next song that plays is even more intense than the last, and you find yourself crowded against the stage trying to stay away from everything. Your heart rate quickens, and you can feel an anxiety attack trying to creep its way up your spine. You look around desperately, searching for your brother so you can beg him to take you home, when a hand on your shoulder startles you.

Warm brown eyes search your own, “Didn’t mean to scare you, darling, but do you want to get out of here?”

You nod up at Dio, and he takes your hand, guiding you in front of him towards a side door. One of his hands rests protectively against the small of your back, and you shudder at the warmth. You’re outside, the air is cool against the sweat on your skin, and yet Dio’s hand never leaves yours.

“D’you wanna sit?” He gestures to a bench resting against the side of the building.

“I-” your voice cracks, and you clear your throat to find some volume, “Sure, that sounds nice.”

The pair of you sit in silence for a moment while you catch your breath, you can feel Dio’s eyes boring into you, but can’t bear to look at him. “God, I’m so sorry, Shane,” you whisper, “Er, Dio, fuck, sorry again.”

“Don’t apologize, darling, it’s just you and me out here.” You finally dare to look up, and he’s smiling gently at you, holding both of your hands in one of his, and rubbing the other soothingly up your back. “I know the first time can be intense, to say the least. It’s a madhouse in there, and those fucking drones don’t know any better than to push everyone around. It should be a crime to scare or shove anyone as perfect as you.”

You huff out a strangled laugh at his words, and move your hands to fiddle with the rings on his fingers. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because you’re my best friend’s little sister,” he starts, and his grip on your back tightens when disappointment crosses your features, “and because you are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on. If someone as ethereal as you will even allow me in your presence, I have done something right.”

You turn your body towards him completely, searching his face. The strong, confident, devil may care Dio from inside is nothing compared to the patient, sweet, borderline insecure Shane you’re talking to out here. You reach your hand up to caress his face, smoothing down his dyed black curls, tracing your thumb against his full bottom lip. Shane melts into your touch, a content sigh leaving his lips at the contact, the heat of your skin against his feels more powerful than the sun at this moment. When you run your thumb nail against the sensitive skin behind his ear, his eyes snap open.

“Can I- would you… would you be mad if I kissed you?” He asks, his voice shy, but his eyes full of want.

‘I’ll be mad if you don’t,” you laugh incredulously. Shane places one hand against your jaw, and the other one slides up your back to rest in your hair. The cool metal of his rings feels electric, but nothing could compare to the jolt you feel when his lips meet yours. He’s soft, so much gentler than you imagined he’d be, and he takes his time losing himself in the feeling of your lips moving against his. He pulls away too soon, and you grab the front of his jacket to pull him back to you.

This kiss is not as gentle, but it is equally as sweet and intoxicating. His hand tightens on your scalp, and his tongue presses against the seam of your lips. You gasp, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue against yours. He tastes like clove cigarettes and Jaeger, and it’s fucking incredible. He’s more perfect than your wildest dreams of him, and the low moan he lets out when you scratch your nails up his back makes you reconsider everything you’ve ever thought about heaven.

Eventually you have to breathe, so you pull back just a bit and rest your forehead against his. “Wow,” you manage to get out. Shane laughs, the sound is more musical than anything you’ve heard tonight.

“Wow is correct, my darling, you are truly more ethereal than I could have fathomed.” He kisses you again, softly on the lips, and then places another on your cheek. “Do you think I could take you out for real sometime soon?”

You bite your lip to prevent a giddy smile from breaking across your face, and nod quickly. “I actually found this record store with its own coffee shop a couple towns over, we could check that out, maybe? I mean, I’ve liked you since freshman year, so anything you want to do would be perfect. You’re perfect, Dio.”

His ears flush an adorable pink, and he smiles almost shyly up at you. “Shane,” he says, “Call me Shane.”

You beam up at him, “Shane.”

He stands up, takes your hand, and leads you back into the concert venue. Walking arm in arm with the king, you feel like you could jump right in the middle of that mosh pit and come out on top. Shane guides you back to your friends, and you try not to get overwhelmed by the stares and whispers when people see you together. Your brother catches a glimpse of you, his eyes drop down to where your hand is connected with Shane’s, and you brace yourself for an obnoxious or over protective comment.

“It’s about goddamn time.”

[mackeydoodledoo]

Who Knows

Part 2 to the "Not So Cold After All" Series!

Pairing: Jade Thirlwall x (Fem!)Reader

Summary: You were a very caring child, no matter how many times mean kids would try and discourage you. However, there was one in particular girl that caught your eye; Jade Thirlwall, she'd always drive your bullies away, but would always act sour around you. However, years, many years go by and you practically forget about your "Barely Notices You" crush however, your paths cross again, when you realize you are Little Mixs' touring bassist, seeing Jade for the first time in years, resurfacing some unspoken love.

Warnings: Angst(?)

A/N: This is in 1st person, Bold = Thoughts, Italics = Singing

"Not So Cold After All" Live Band Mini Setlist

----------------------------------------------------------------------

As Jesy, Perrie, Leigh-Anne and Jade seat Laura, Jax, Beca and I, Jade and I catch a glimpse at each other and she gives a small wave at me. Not thinking of how to greet her back, I wink at her. I look at Laura and she gives me a face. A face I recognize as her saying; "Get her b**ch!" I kick her leg and and winces but tries not to make it noticeable. 

"So along with out supporting group," the tour manager starts, "As for the final show of the tour tonight, the girls and myself would like to showcase our live bands' skills." 

Laura and I are taken aback, whilst Jax and Becca are all for the idea. 

"So like...." Laura questions, "Each and every one of us plays a song of our choosing?" 

"Thats correct," Jade answers, "You okay with that?" 

"Yeah I was thinking we'd play a whole song together as a band, that plays instruments," she replies 

Not knowing how to properly word it, Laura leaves it at that. 

"What if, I’m just thinking out loud here. We end up doing a short setlist?" I ask, noticing Jade look at me like I'm insane 

"Thats fine by me," Tour Manager says, "Good thinking." 

“Are you singing Y/N?” Jade asks

“Oh, good heavens no,” I answer, “I don’t sing. That’s all to Laura.”

Once the meeting was finished, I begin walking back to my car to the hotel Laura and I were staying in, I feel a tap on my shoulder. 

"Hey you," Jade says as I turn around 

"Hey," I say, smiling 

This is the first time she actually has come up to me in years. We've caught glimpses of each other during shows, rehearsals and we'd both greet each other at the same time but neither of us had the chance to really catch up. 

"You maybe want to grab some lunch on the way back to the hotel?" She asks 

I look to Laura for an approval and she... Again gives me that same face from earlier. 

"Sure," I smile 

I hop into the driver's seat as Jade gets into the passenger seat. Laura hops in the back, hijacking the aux chord. She puts on some acapella music and the both of us jam out while Jade laughs at us. 

As soon as we got back to the hotel, I tell both Laura and Jade to eat without me, that I need to go talk to Jax and Becca. I go knock on her door. 

"What’s up shorty?" She laughs 

"Very funny," I chuckle, "How would you two feel about performing a three part setlist for our little portion of the show?" 

"Really?" She asks 

I nod,  "Well, I think having 3 songs that feature all of us is a cool idea and the encore song could be a song I really like and I think it'd fit and it would show how well we can all sound as a band. Though we aren't really a band. Also, I think I'm going to sing lead for this one. I have to talk to Laura about that." 

"So you want us to help you so you can impress your crush?" She asks 

I nod, blushing at the fact Jade is my crush, “Don’t tell her I’m going to sing lead.”

"We're in and your secret’s safe with us," she smiles, "Did you tell Laura yet?" 

"Not yet," I answer, "Jade's in there." 

We fist bump and I go back to my room, where Jade and Laura are almost finished eating, but they put on some music. 

"What'd you talk to Jax for?" Laura asks 

"Nothing special," I say 

I seat myself next to Jade and begin eating. As I listen to Jade and Laura talk about our beginnings and how Laura and I started out as a band. 

"Wait," Jade starts, "You two were drunk?!" 

I nod in agreement as I almost choke on my food. As I look at Jade, a spark flies across my body as her thumb gently runs across my cheek. She giggles as she licks the piece of lettuce (and mayo) right off her thumb. I shake my gawk off and laugh with her. 

"So you're called-" 

"Saints of Starlight," I answer 

"That's actually a pretty dope name," she smiles 

"Thank Y/N for that one," Laura states, "She was high off her ass and she managed to spot that name for us." 

"Somehow I was conscious enough for that," I smile, finishing my food

We end up playing a game of "Cards against Humanity" and so far Laura is in the lead: I’m horrible at card games. Games in general.

By the time we nearly get through all of the cards, a knock comes onto our door. 

"Jade?" Jesy calls from the other side of the door 

"Yeah Jess?" She calls back 

"You ready to go?" She asks 

And it hit Jade, she was supposed to get dressed for a birthday party for Leigh-Anne. 

"Is Y/N and Laura invited?" Jade asks 

"Jade," I whisper, "We don't have to go. It'll be fine." 

"Oh for sure," Leigh-Anne says 

Jade gets up and helps us clean up the cards before going to her room to change into a nice outfit. Laura and I do the same. I manage to shove on my 2019 indoor drumline season uniform; 1940s style detective outfit. Suspenders n all. However, the only thing that didn't go with my fit were my shoes. They were Doc Marten brand boots. However, I believed it was a nice subtle touch to my black m white outfit. I wait outside the door for Laura and for Jade. 

"Oh well Y/N can sure clean up nice," Jesy teases, "Jade's gonna have a kick looking at that." Jesy points to all of me as Jade comes walking down the hall. 

"Y/N?" Jade calls out 

I turn to her. I smile and wave over to her as Laura opens the door and reveals a casual-formal outfit. 

"You sure look nice Y/N," Jade blushes as she catches up to us 

"You too," I say, "Well, you look beautiful." 

We follow the rest of the Little Mix members and Laura out to hail a cab to a bar that Jesy, Perrie and Jade had rented out for the evening.  There was barely enough room for all of us to fit into the cab. As I seat myself next to Jesy, Jade hops right into my lap. 

"A little warning next time," I gasp, but laugh 

"Sorry," she smiles, "Your lap is the only good seat in here." 

My face turns into a ball of flame as I look at Jade, who laughs at my face. Two can play at that Game. Her guard was down as I slowly and gently coil my fingers around Jade's waist as the cab driver drives off. I look up at Jade's face and it was just like mine not even 20 seconds ago. I laugh as do Jesy, Perrie and Leigh-Anne. Laura gave me "the look" as I subtly make and "ok" with my hand. 

We reach the bar and its practically filled with party-goers and we walk upstairs to a VIP room and I seat myself next to Jade. 

"You really know how to pull some strings to get us a room," Leigh-Anne says to her girls 

"We are extra," Perrie states 

We order a couple of drinks and within those said drinks, I notice Jesy already drunk. She begins ranting on about how much fun everything is and how excited she is to see Laura and I play for them. 

"Yeah what do you guys have planned?" Jade asks, looking intently at me 

"Well," I clear my throat, "You lot are just going to have to see." 

I look at Laura to not spoil anything and that I'll explain to her later once we head back to the hotel. 

After helping Jesy to her hotel room and getting her to drink water and eat bread and get her to bed, I help Jade get to hers. 

"You know," Jade starts, "You're really fun to hang out with. Why haven't we done that more often?" 

"Well," I start, "You were always cold to me and always turned down my invitations to hang out. Though, that never phased me and I've always kept on trying to get you to hang out with me." I look over to Jade, who's clearly looks and feels guilty. 

"Well," I add, "Like I said, it never really hurt me when you turned them down. That's because you saved me." 

Jade again looks up at me. 

"Do you remember when there were bullies in elementary school and you always managed to scare them off. Little did you know that little kid you saved-" 

"Was you?" She asks 

I nod, "However, when we did finally become friends, you ended up going to audition for Britain's got Talent? Or something like that. So I guess you ended up forgetting about me. But then again, I moved to America." 

"Sorry love," she says, "A lot of people come and go in my life. However, you're the first one who came back around." 

"Yeah," I sigh, "Well, goodnight. See you tomorrow." 

Before I stand to leave her room, she wraps her arms around my waist and her face pressed gently against my back. 

"Thank you," she says before her grip loosening on me 

"Always," I say, leaving her room 

As I close the door to my hotel room with Laura, she looks at me. 

“Okay, listen," I say, "So I already talked to Jax and Becca, and they agreed that we do a 3-song setlist when they want us to perform." 

"So," Laura asks, "Are you singing lead or am I?" 

"That's a good question," I say, "Well, I arranged the mini setlist and I have this." 

I show Laura the mini setlist I made on my YouTube page and she nods in agreement to play this setlist for tomorrow.

"I just want to sing the last song," I suggest, "That one specifically is basically saying what could have been with someone." 

"Oh so is that song gonna be for Jade?" She asks, making "that look" 

"Yeah," I exhale, “Also, don’t tell Jade I'm going to sing the last song.”

"Okay," Laura answers

We both head to bed, for the big night tomorrow; showcasing a live band.

I catch Jade just about to leave her hotel room and she waits for me as I catch up to her. 

"Sleep alright?" I ask 

She nods, "Hungry?" She holds up a banana and a breakfast muffin 

"Yeah, thanks love," I say, taking the items, "You know, bananas are a great source of potassium. I always eat one before I do a competition. Both high school marching band and indoor winter percussion." 

"You did all of those?" She asks. I nod 

"When I did my first year of marching band I got talked into doing indoor percussion for the winter time. Best decision ever," I say, hopping into a cab with Jade following suit 

"You have to tell me how you did all of them and if you have any good stories," Jade smiles 

"Well," I smile, "I have many stories that can be saved for another night." 

Jade pouts as we exit the cab to enter the venue. Fans and paparazzi immediately circle around Jade, nearly pushing me out of the way to get to her. 

"Y/N!" Jade calls out 

I nearly wrestle a couple of fans and paparazzi and reach out for Jade. I feel a strong tug and Jade buries herself into my jacket. I hold Jade close as fans begin to make a path for her and I to walk into the venue. 

"You guys are chaotic," I say, glaring at the Paparazzi specifically 

I push the doors to walk inside, "You alright?" 

Jade nods as she lets go of me and walks over to her girls. 

"I saw that," Laura teases, "What happened out there anyway?" 

"A bunch of fans and paparazzi," I answer, "They practically pushed me away from Jade." 

"You fought people?" She asks 

"No, I was close to though," I reply, "I just was sick of fans and paparazzi not giving the girls space." 

Laura nods as their tour manager comes up to us, "Jade needs time to cool down so go ahead and rehearse first you guys." 

"How is she?" I ask 

"Shaken up but she'll be alright," he answers 

I sigh in relief, having temptation to go check on her, but I assure myself that Jesy, Perrie and Leigh-Anne have gotten Jade calmed down. I go back to rehearsal. 

"Jade," Jesy calls out, bringing me back 

Jade's POV

As I inhale and exhale, Jesy, Perrie and Leigh-Anne comforting me, I could hear a singing voice. Is it Becca? Laura? Even Y/N? No, Y/N even said it herself, she doesn't sing. 

"Yeah?" I look at her 

"You feeling better love?" She asks and I nod 

I continue listening to that singing voice. Regardless if it was either Becca, Laura or even Y/N, they're bloody talented. 

"Do you hear that voice out on stage?" I ask the girls 

"Yeah," Perrie answers, "That voice is bloody f**clinging talented." 

"Do you think it's Y/N?" Leigh-Anne suggests 

"It couldn't be," I smile, "Y/N told me she doesn't sing. She only does backing vocals. But she never sings lead." 

"If you say so Jade," she replies 

"Just wait until Jade sees you," Laura teases 

Y/N's POV

I sing the last line with Laura and Becca. I stop the sound of my bass and wipe sweat from the sides of my head with my shirt and begin stripping. I tuck my shirt in my back pocket. 

"Shut the f**k up Laura," I laugh, "I'm toasty. Okay, so how do we feel about that?" 

I get OK's from everyone and I put on a song from one of my playlists, having a gut feeling Jade is going to come back any moment, I don't sing. I didn’t even intentionally pick the song; Black Magic by Little Mix. Instinctively, we all manage to play through however long we decided to play until we were moved to the back for Little Mixs’ rehearsal.

 I put on my button down shirt and leave a couple of buttons unbuttoned, to give my lesbian look. I tuck my shirt into my pants and roll up my sleeves. I roll them up just enough for them to not interfere with my hands.

“Jesy was right,” Jade says

I look up and smile.

“You really do clean up nicely,” She adds, walking toward me

“Might as well look good for the occasion,” I reply back, “And you look exquisite.”

I see Jade’s cheeks flush a deep pink as she comes even closer, “Would you want to get dinner after the show tonight?”

“Wouldn’t it be late?” I ask

“Some places here are open late too,” She replies back, hugging me from behind

“I’m down,” I reply, lacing my fingers with hers

“If you’re gonna get it on, get a separate room and keep it quiet,” Laura teases from the doorway

“Laura shut up,” I sigh

“Band’s warming up Y/N,” Laura finally says

Jade lets go of my hips and she places a kiss onto my cheek, “Good luck Y/N.”

“You too Jade,” I reply, returning the same kiss, but onto her forehead

As the lights go down and the fans cheer.... Not only for Little Mix, but us too. 

"Hey guys, we're Little Mixs' live band. We are so honored to be playing as an actual band for their tour as well." Laura says into the microphone

Laura begins singing the first verse as I slide my left hand up the bass neck to where I need to go for it. At the song’s climax, I watch Laura hit the high note Colby Benson usually sings when she sings this particular song live. Laura turns to me as the fans scream and cheer for that high note and I cheer too. I look to the side stage as the women of Little Mix watch us hype the crowd. I wink particularly at Jade.

 When Laura sings the last note of the second song, she steps away from the mic as I step in her place.

“This song,” I start, “Is no original, but by one of the coolest girl bands in California. But this goes out to a special person. Although we never dated and never had those ups and downs of a relationship, I felt something between us two. That was a long time ago however, the both of us drifted apart in that time. We were both the ones that got away, but, she showed up into my life again. And that something I began feeling for her, came back.”

Jade’s POV

I watch as Y/N gives her speech. I felt Jesy touch my shoulder, as I begin to think of who that person was in Y/N’s life all that time ago.

Y/N’s POV

I subtly turn my head to side stage, using my eyes to further my eye contact and Jade meets mine. I smile at her and turn my head to the microphone

I listen to Becca as she plays the opening riff. Jax begins playing her drum part;

Oh no, I'm feeling you watching me

Same way you did when we were seventeen

Dim lights, this bar was alright

Until I saw a ghost of you

I look to Becca and she nods, hinting that I’m doing a good job thus far, I inhale and exhale, close my eyes for a split second and open my eyes.

You tried to pull me closer

I start to fall again

Tell me you still remember

'Cause I remember

Jax has us enter the chorus as we begin getting into the music.

Baby, we were fire in the rain

Burning through the night just to fade

When you say, "I could have loved you longer"

Who knows where we could have gone? 

It's a lie if we stay

Living for the past and the pain

When you say, "I could have loved you longer"

Who knows where we could have gone?

As I continue singing on through the song, I look over to Jesy, Jade, Perrie and Leigh-Anne as they watch me sing; they look like they’ve just seen a ghost, but then cheer me on. Except for Jade; whose arms are against her chest, smiling excessively at me. I smile back. 

Who knows what we should have done?

(Who knows) Who knows where we could have gone?

(Who knows) Who knows what we would have done?

(Who knows, who knows?)

The crowd cheers as I hit the high note and I notice from the corner of my eye that the girls were cheering too.

You tried to pull me closer

I start to fall again

Tell me you still remember

Where we could have gone, whoa, oh

As I sing the last note with Laura and Becca, Jesy, Jade, Perrie and Leigh-Anne run onto the stage as I walk back to put my bass on my stand. Jade in particular looks at me. 

Who knows what we should have done?

(Who knows) Who knows where we could have gone?

(Who knows) Who knows what we would have done?

(Who knows, who knows?)

(Who knows) Who knows what we should have done?

(Who knows) Who knows where we could have gone?

(Who knows) Who knows what we would have done?

(Who knows, who knows?)

“You did a bang up job Y/N!” Jesy screams into her microphone

“I thought you didn’t sing?” Perrie asks

“Listen,” I smile, “I wanted to surprise y’all.”

It worked too, Little Mix was thoroughly impressed.

As we go into an interlude to give us a small break and for Little Mix to change into their encore outfits, I notice Jade was tense.

“You’re usually hyper love,” I say, sitting next to her, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” she says, “My family isn’t here. They always come to our shows.”

Before I could say anything, Jade’s phone rings. She immediately picks it up and answers.

“Hello?” she asks through the phone

I couldn’t hear what was going on on her phone, but I could tell Jade was getting even more tense. Jesy, Perrie and Leigh-Anne try to comfort her but to no avail.

“Would any of you be mad if I leave?” Jade asks, “It’s a family emergency.”

Immediately the girls said yes. However, the tour manager was reluctant.

“Laura and I could do something,” I suggest, “We explain to the fans what’s going on and why Jade isn’t on stage. The fans are sure to understand Jade.” 

Laura agrees with me, as do Jax and Becca. I follow Jade to help her out with getting her out of her outfit to change back into her outside clothing. I follow Jade out through the back as I hail a cab.

“I might have to take a raincheck on that dinner date Y/N,” Jade says, sorrowfully, “I also might not see you off tomorrow either. I was really hoping to spend more time with you and-”

“Don’t worry about that right now Jade,” I force a smile, “Just go make sure whomever family member is okay. Do that for me.”

She nods as I close the door for her. I watch the cab drive off into the cityscape. I could feel an overwhelming need to sob my eyes out however, nothing came out. 

“Y/N!” Laura says running out the door, “You okay?”

I force myself to nod, “Yeah-Yeah I’m fine.”

“The fans agreed to having a one-song encore, featuring Saints of Starlight,” Laura states

I nod as she walks back into the door while I take one last glimpse of the cityscape Jade disappeared into and then force myself to step back into the venue.

 The encore goes well, however, most fans left but we understood that. It was a quiet drive back to the hotel as all of us just go to our hotel rooms. 

“You're clearly not okay Y/N,” Laura states, “Spill it.”

“I understand her situation but,” I start, “I just feel like my 10 year old self again when I moved to the states. Missing Jade but, I feel that this is more sad…”

“You two were going to catch up finally?” Laura questions

To which I nod, “I don’t know if Who Knows gave Jade the hint.”

“You know what?” Laura asks, “We’ve had a long day and we’re about to have another. Why don’t we rest up?”

I take Laura’s suggestion and lie in bed.

Part 3 (Final)

[a-dorin]

ardor | darth maul

word count: 3.135k

warnings: age gap, cursing, professor/student relationship, sexual tension, mentions of sex, sexual innuendos

a/n: hello everyone! so this is the surprise i listed on my upcoming works list! i was just so excited to post this that i have been working on it constantly! this is a modern au involving professor!maul, set in coruscant. the reader is 21 in this fic. let me know if you want this to become a series or be added to the tag list! i hope you all enjoy :))

summary: as a junior enrolled at university of coruscant, you are striving to complete a minor in psychology. however, one class in particular intrigues you. will you be able to focus or let lust consume you? 

pushing open the massive wooden doors, you grimaced at the vast amount of students already crammed in the seats. glancing at your phone, the time read 9:46 a.m. letting out a quiet sigh, you were fourteen minutes early and the lecture hall was almost to capacity. all of the seats on the edges were filled, and you grumbled under your breath. those damn freshman. always so early. 

scanning the space, your eyes fell on an empty seat, near the front of the hall. strolling down the steps, you mumbled apologies as you shimmied into the empty seat, almost collapsing into the chair. rummaging in your bag, you fish out your laptop, powering it on. 

once it’s whirred to life, you pull up your notes application, ensuring that you’re ready to take notes for the first lecture. the moment you were all set up, you ran a hand through your hair, noticing the togruta sitting to the right, as well as a mirialan to your left. 

“w-was this seat reserved for someone?” you stammered, a blush spreading through your cheeks. 

the togruta shook her head, “not at all! you see, that mirialan, she’s my best friend. we can’t sit by one another in class because we don’t pay attention. the seat is empty, we just wanted some space between each other.”

“oh okay,” you mumbled, relief rippling through you, “i wasn’t aware that everyone was going to be so early.”

“that’s freshman for ya,” the mirialan nudged you, giggling, “we just got here and the hall was practically full!” 

“don’t scare our new friend off!” the togruta huffed, her bright blue eyes shining with amusement, “i’m ahsoka tano.”

ahsoka tano was a gorgeous creature, a descendant of the togruta species. her complexion was an orange hue, her head tails striped navy and white, with two montrals poking out. her face was wise, as if she had matured at a young age. the white markings on her forehead were breathtaking, trailing down onto her cheeks. ahsoka’s eyes were a bright, crystalline blue, shining with warmth and kindness. 

you enjoyed that aspect about her already, as she was so friendly. she wore a plain navy blue tank top, which complemented her head tails, while donning a pair of grey joggers. her knee bounced, a fresh white pair of nike air maxes on her feet. you noticed the university logo stitched below a pocket, the curiosity within you rising by the second. 

“do you play any sports?” you arched a brow, “i couldn’t help but notice the logo on your joggers.”

ahsoka’s eyes drifted towards the pocket, “oh yeah! i’m on the saber team.”

“you wield lightsabers?” a gasped tumbled from your lips, “that’s awesome!”

a blush spread through ahsoka’s cheeks, dusting them a light pink, “thank you, it took many years of practice and dedication. i was offered a full ride to come here, so i transferred here from theed university second semester my freshman year.”

“rumor has it that ahsoka’s undefeated,” the mirialan chirped, “good morning, i’m barriss offee.”

barriss was almost the opposite of ashoka, clad in a floral sundress, the pattern burstings with greens, yellows, and purples. it suited her light green complexion, along with her rich blue eyes. her eyes were darker than ahsoka’s, glimmering with intrigue as she gazed you. black diamonds stretched across the bridge of her nose, her lips coated with a black lipstick. tights covered her legs, a chunky pair of doc martens on her feet. a hijab wrapped around her head, the material an inky black silk. barriss was gorgeous, her aura radiating  nothing but intelligence and compassion. 

“well i’m (y/n) (y/l/n),” you couldn’t help but smile, “i’m a junior.”

you couldn’t help but feel an attraction towards the two girls, as if you were meant to find to them, to be their friends. already, the three of you were off to a great start. you were looking forward to spending the rest of class with them for the semester, even if you just met. 

“what’s your major?” ahsoka inquired, “i’m a sophomore, looking to pursue an education major. i’m not quite sure what aspect of education, but i love kids.”

“that’s really cool!” you gushed, “how about you, barriss?”

“i’m a sophomore as well,” her tone was smooth, “i am looking to major somewhere in political science.” 

“i’m going to major in health sciences,” you remarked, “but i plan on minoring in psych. i needed this class for a prerequisite for next semester. which is weird considering the course title, but i feel like it’ll be an interesting class.”

“i agree-” ahsoka began, but was cut off the sound of the door slamming. 

the murmur of your fellow classmates fell as the professor entered the room, an aura of concentration settling over the lecture hall in a thick haze. you clicked on the mousepad of your laptop, ensuring that you were prepared for any note taking. absentmindedly, you typed in the date, as well as a title for the note section: first day of class. 

“good morning class,” the professor rumbled, his voice clear as it rang through the space, “i am aware that this is a three hundred level course and we have a limited number of weeks to get through course material, but today there will be no lesson.”

“so much for opening my laptop,” you grumbled, earning a hushed giggle from ahsoka and barriss.

“today will be an overview of the syllabus, as well as some icebreakers,” the professor continued, a unanimous groan erupting from the class. the professor chuckled, “i know, we all hate standing up and stating five fun facts about ourselves. but, it helps me remember names. after all, there are about one hundred and fifty of you.”

your eyes drifted up from your laptop screen as you shut it, widening with shock as they fell on him. 

your professor was a descent of the zabraki species, his ivory horns protruding from his skull. his face was absolutely gorgeous, jet black tattoos weaving an intricate pattern over his crimson skin. his jawline was strong, his incisors flashing as a wide smile enveloped his features. he was similar to barriss, an aura of wisdom and intelligence shrouding over him. if you had to guess, he was somewhat young, in his mid thirties or so. nonetheless, he had you in a daze, eagerly eating up every word that fell from his mouth. 

the zabrak was clad in a black turtleneck, paired with a tweed jacket. the jacket was a beige hue, dark, chocolate brown slacks as his choice of pants. a thin silver chain hung around his neck, lying on his chest as he spoke. in the light, you caught a glimpse of a silver stud, pierced on the upper cartilage of his ear. 

“gods, he’s hot,” you muttered, almost speechless.

“you can’t say that about our professor,” ahsoka teased under her breath, “he’s probably older than we think.”

“but he’s so attractive,” you breathed. 

“we need to pay attention,” barriss hissed. 

“shall i start with a brief introduction of myself, or should i begin with some review of the syllabus?” your professor placed his hands on hips, awaiting the class’ response.

“icebreakers!”

“i hate syllabus days!”

“the more time we take away from class, the better!”

the zabrak placed his hands out, chuckling, “all right, all right. the class has spoken. well, to start, i am professor maul. you can refer to me as professor or maul. my home resides in the psychology department, and i do find myself dabbling in philosophy or theology from time to time. i have two brothers. savage, the eldest is a geology professor here at university of coruscant, while feral, the youngest is a pastry chef deep in the city. perhaps if you guys are good, i can bring in his pastries sometime. if you have any questions for me, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

ahsoka’s hand shot up instantly, and professor maul nodded towards her, “yes, the togruta in the front.”

“how old are you sir?” her voice surged with confidence.

professor maul’s eyes narrowed playfully, “is that any question to ask a professor? since you were so bold, i will answer. i am thirty-one, nearing thirty-two by the second.”

“you’re old!” a voice called out.

“perhaps,” another chuckled tumbled from the professor’s lips, “i won’t hesitate to kick your ass in saber duel, though.”

“you were a saber wielder?” a classmate to below you, a twi’lek, blurted out. 

“i was,” he responded curtly, “although i teach here, i am not an alumni. i attended mustafar central on a lightsaber scholarship many years ago. however, i didn’t go pro, i took the graduate school path. enough about me, let’s me hear about you guys. i would like your name, your intended major or career path, along with a brief fun fact about yourself. don’t think about it too hard, we don’t have too much time.”

with every word professor maul spoke, you found yourself hanging onto every single word. there was something about him, the way he spoke so eloquently, or the way his amber eyes glowed with authority, that sent butterflies flurrying in your stomach. he stood proud, his arms folded across his chest as your classmates introduced themselves. you swallowed thickly as you realized you were staring a little too long, a blush spreading through your cheeks as his eyes fell on you. 

“it appears as if it’s your turn to introduce yourself,” his voice was so smooth, like honey, “how about you tell the class a little bit about yourself?”

you rose to your feet, anxiety swelling within you. clearing your throat, you began your spiel, “u-um, hello everyone. i am (y/n) (y/l/n). my major is health sciences, and i am unsure of the career path i want to take after i graduate. i guess a fun fact about myself is that i will be wrapping up my psychology major by the end of this year.”

intrigue flashed in the zabrak’s eyes momentarily, “ah, well, it is a pleasure to meet you, (y/n). never hesitate to reach out to me this year if you have any questions. who’s next?”

ahsoka stood from her chair beginning to speak. however, you couldn’t but notice his eyes on you, his lips pursed, a wistful daze painted across his face. you swallowed thickly, biting your lip, desperate to avoid his gaze. your cheeks burned, hot to the touch. gods, it was only the first day and you were already crushing your professor. a professor who was a decade older than you, nonetheless. 

the class was an hour and twenty minutes long, the time eleven o’clock by the time everyone introduced each other. once the last person finished, professor maul strolled up to the rows of seating, a thick stack of papers in his grasp, “please, pass this around, and ensure that everyone gets a copy. this packet is your life for the next fifteen weeks! do not lose it!”

as the packets were passed around, the sound of paper rustling echoed through the lecture hall. drawing in a sigh, you mumbled a thank you to barriss as she handed you the syllabus. once it was in your hands, you scanned over the text, glancing over it hastily. 

psych 315: monsters in modern society. the title of the course jumped out at you, a feeling of dread washing over you, threatening to steer your attention away from the syllabus. 

how were you supposed to pay attention to lectures in class when you could barely keep your eyes off the professor? 

****

“how was your first day of classes?” a familiar voice called into the den of your apartment. 

“rex!” you gushed, sprinting into the den.

the blonde couldn’t help but grin as you wrapped your arms around him, “good evening to you too.”

“classes were boring,” you groaned, burying your head into his chest, “they’re not the same without my best friend.”

“my classes were just about the same,” rex chuckled softly, “what’d you make me for dinner?”

“there’s some spaghetti in the fridge,” you responded, still latched onto the blonde, “the garlic bread is in the oven, keeping warm.”

“perfect,” he placed a tender kiss on your forehead, “practice was horrible.”

you detached yourself from rex, arching a brow, “yeah?”

“i’ll tell you about it later,” he exhaled, “i need to cool off for a bit, shower, and eat.”

“if you say so,” you shrugged, “hey, i’m going to go to the gym for a while. i should be back by the time you’re working on homework.”

rex rolled his eyes, “if film counts as homework, sure.”

“just text me if you need anything,” you slung your gym bag over your shoulder. 

“will do!” rex shouted as you opened the door, closing it. 

rex was your best friend, a kind and pure soul. the two of you met your freshman year, during the first week orientation for all incoming newbies. since you were far from home, you were anxious, unsure if you were going to meet any new friends or establish connections. one night, while you ate alone in the dining hall, a platinum blonde approached you, asking if you had any company. from there, the rest was history.

the two of you were almost inseparable. since you had known rex for a couple years, it only made sense that the two of you shared an apartment your junior year. besides, your schedules didn’t clash too much, as rex was on an athletic scholarship with the university’s rugby team. meanwhile, you were involved with a few clubs here and there, preparing for an internship with the hospital on campus. 

although you were in the pursuit of a health sciences major, you were unsure of which area you wanted to concentrate on. there were a variety options: dietitians, nutrition, nursing, radiology, athletic training, physical therapy, and so many more. however, you were set on graduating with a minor in psychology. which, you were on the right track. after your junior year, you would have that minor. 

the internship with the hospital was to dip your feet into uncharted waters, where you would experience a little bit of everything. you would be a receptionist for a variety of departments, switching offices every month. the internship began within the week, and the excitement within you was growing by the day. 

pushing open the doors to the recreational center, you chirped a greeting to the student employee at the desk, requesting a bottle of water. strolling towards the elevator, you pushed the button, aching to relieve the pent up stress. 

it wasn’t like your first day of classes were horrible, you just knew you had a tumultuous year ahead of you. with eighteen credit hours, along with the internship, you were unsure how you were going to tackle it all. yet, you knew that you could manage it. you just had to trust yourself and go with the flow. everything happens for a reason was the mantra for the year. 

as the doors slid open, you strolled towards the weight room, where all of the racks and machinery were located. since it was about nine o’clock, the rec center was shying closer to close, students making their way towards the elevator. you noticed ahsoka in the fieldhouse, practicing combat techniques with her team, the hum of lightsabers echoing off the walls. 

however, as your hands rested on the handle of the door, your breath hitched in your throat. through the glass, you noticed a familiar face at the punching bags. 

there stood professor maul, clobbering the bag with jabs and punches, his breathing ragged, coming out in light pants. curses rolled off his tongue, in a language you couldn’t quite decipher. 

carefully, you slipped into the weight room, careful to avoid making any sort of interaction with the zabrak. after all, this was a facility meant for the students, faculty, and employees. it was for anyone’s use, but the fact that he was there, in the same space with you, had your heart thudding against your rib-cage, your mind buzzing. 

sweat trickled down his skull, his back glittering in the light. with every single jab, his muscles rippled. scars plastered his shoulders and back, some deep, some faint. hesitantly, you clambered onto an elliptical, every fiber in your being screaming at you to look away. to stop staring. to stop admiring. 

the zabrak paused, scooping his water bottle off the floor. as he chugged the water, you nearly choked as water dripped from his lips onto his neck, down his tattooed chest. not only was his face tattooed, but the ink was all over his beautiful body, weaving geometric patterns. 

your cheeks reddened as you noticed the pair of black joggers hanging loosely on his hips, exposing his v-line. filthy, nasty, thoughts filled your mind, and you desperately shook them away. he was your professor. you weren’t supposed to see him like this.  

“fancy seeing you here,” his voice was low, raspy, “isn’t it almost closing time?”

“i still have about an hour,” you mumbled, your cheeks burning, “i wasn’t aware that professors actually used this facility.”

“you’ve got some fire in you,” he chuckled, slipping on a plain black v-neck, “your name is (y/n), isn’t it? you’re in my level three hundred class.” 

the sound of your name rolling off his tongue sent a shiver down your spine, “u-uh, yes. and you’re professor-”

“you can call me maul,” a smirk crept onto his lips, “no need for the formalities here.”

“okay,” you mumbled, flustered by his banter, “i didn’t know you were a boxer.”

his eyes flickered over you, maul licking his lips as you sat on the machine, your thighs full, “i am. it keeps me in shape. as much as i would love to stay and chat, my brother is finished with his work for the night. i have to go meet up with him.”

“you two carpool?” you felt a giggle bubble up. 

“unfortunately,” maul scoffed, rolling his eyes, “i have been having some car issues lately. hopefully i’ll be able to drive myself soon.”

“well goodnight,” you beamed, “i hope that your night isn’t too horrid.”

“if i have to hear one more word about geology, i just might throw myself out the car,” maul chuckled, his eyes shining, “goodnight (y/n).”

“goodnight maul,” your voice was low, the words almost a whisper.

the zabrak strolled towards the door, pulling it open. however, he paused, turning to face you, amusement glittering in his amber depths, a playful grin stretched across his features. 

“by the way (y/n), you could be a little more subtle about your wandering eyes.”

***********************

tagged: @sapphicstars , @maulieber , @starflyer-104 , @alwayshappysith​ , @doobiwankenooku​

[gleefuldarrencrissfan]

Rim Job is finally complete!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24411913/navigate

Chapter 5- Payback

 “Blaine, honey.  Look at me, please.  I promise that it’s fine,” Kurt pleaded at his boyfriend who was buried under a stack of blankets.  “Please.”

A muffled voice came out from under a pile of blankets.  “I can’t.  I won’t ever be able to look you in the eye ever again,” Blaine groaned.  “It’s mortifying.

“You can’t look me in the eye anyway, shortie.” Kurt teased, gently tugging at the blanket that was on top.  “It’s ok.  It happens.  People fart.”

“But not in their boyfriend’s mouth.” Blaine sighed, letting his hand poke out of the blanket a little to swat at his boyfriend and immediately cover himself back up.”

“If you don’t come out of there, I won’t be able to finish what we were doing.”

Blaine popped out of the blankets sheepishly so that his boyfriend could see the shock on his face.  “Wait, you want to continue?  Even after I- did that?”

Kurt took his boyfriend’s hand in his.  “Of course I do.  It was an accident.  It’s not something you’ll make a habit of.  And it’s not like I’ve never farted during sex.”

“You have?” Blaine’s eyebrows arched in confusion.  I never noticed.”

“That’s because you are very loud in bed.  Although it’s happened more than once and I was sure you noticed.”

“If I did, it wasn’t what I was focused on.  I focus on the noises coming out of your mouth and the expressions on your face.”

“Likewise.  Actually, had you not jerked away from me and buried yourself under a mountain of blankets, I would’ve never brought it up,” Kurt explained.

“So you aren’t disgusted?” Blaine questioned, turning his head to look his boyfriend in the eye.

“No.  Intimacy is messy.  That’s why it’s meant to be private.  Shared only between the two of us.  I couldn’t be grossed out because it’s you.  Remember that night that you got drunk at Rachel’s party.” Blaine blushed in embarrassment.  “You threw up on my Doc Martens.  That was gross, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to be with you.”

“I threw up on your shoes and you still wanted to date me?”

Kurt nodded.  “Because you’re you.  I love you, Blaine.  All of you, even the messy, stinky, or awkward parts of you, if I didn’t make that obvious by what we’ve done this weekend.  I wouldn’t just agree to wax my ass for anyone.  And I definitely wouldn’t give just anyone a rim job.  Only you.”

Blaine smiled.  “So you didn’t hate it?”

“Are you kidding?  I”ve never been so turned on in my life.  I thought your dirty talk was erotic before, but damn, Blaine.  Your mouth can get absolutely filthy, Mr. there are certain words I try not to say,” Kurt teased as he kissed Blaine’s cheek.  “It was so sexy. I kinda came on your sheets.  The ones you’re wrapped up in right now.”

Blaine stared at his boyfriend in disbelief. “Wait! You came?  I didn’t even touch you,” 

“On contraire, the way you pulled my hair, scratched my back.  It was the sexiest I’ve ever seen you, with your legs spread open for me, ass in the air, smooth and perfect.  You’re gorgeous, Blaine, and I loved every moment of it,” Kurt explained, kissing Blaine square on the lips.  “In fact, I think I’m ready to pick up where we left off.  Bend back over so we can continue where we left off,” 

“Hell yes,” Blaine sputtered as practically yanked the rest of the blankets off and let them drop to the floor as Kurt pushed him back on the bed.

“Roll over, baby, so I can fulfill your fantasy.”

“Kurt,” Blaine took his boyfriend’s hand lovingly in his own.  “Really, we don’t have to finish if you don’t wan-”

He was answered by Kurt flipping him over and pulling him to the edge of the bed, dropping to his knees on the floor.  “Less talkin’ unless you’re telling me what you want me to do to you.  Tell me, Blaine.” Kurt said, blowing hot breath over Blaine’s parted cheeks.  “What do you want right now.”

“Your tongue, on my ass.  Please,” Blaine begged.

“As you wish,” Kurt said, and then proceeded to lick at the pink asterisk that was so plainly on display in front of him.  Kurt started with a kitten lick, tentative and slow.  “Like this?”

“Kurt, you little tease, like before.  Harder.”

Kurt ran his tongue in the crease of Blaine’s thigh.  Right here?” he teased again.  Kurt felt Blaine’s body shiver underneath him.  

“Tickles,” Blaine chuckled.  “Kurt, please, don’t tease.”

“Then say it.  Say what you want me to do to that gorgeous pink hole of yours.

“Lick it, baby,” Blaine whined.  “Lick it like it’s mocha flavored ice cream.  Run that gorgeous pink tongue all over it.”

“Right here,” Kurt questioned as his tongue ran slickly over Blaine’s puckered hole.

“God Yes, Kurt!  Like that.  Right there.  Right there.”  Blaine hollered, his head jerking back as Kurt licked at Blaine’s entrance, lapping it in long strokes first and then adjusting to short, flicking motions with his slick, wet tongue.”

“Yes, Kurt!  Yes!  Fuck me with your perfect tongue.  Please!” Blaine panted, his voice cracking at the end. “So perfect.”

“God Blaine, yes! Kurt said as thrust his tongue inside Blaine’s hole, lathing it with his saliva as he jerked his own erection.

“So close,” Blaine moaned, his body spasming and thrashing against the mattress.  “I’m gonna-”

Blaine didn’t even get to finish his sentence as stars shot in front of his eyes and the most intense orgasm he had ever had exploded in every nerve in his body.  

______________________________________________________________________

“Blaine!  Blaine!  Baby? Are you ok?”

Blaine opened his eyes to his boyfriend stroking his face.  “Did I black out?”

Kurt nodded.  “You scared me for a second there.  I thought you might have had a seizure or something.  You just got really quiet, but I didn’t worry quite as much when I saw the wall.”

“It hit the wall?” Blaine’s head jerked around so he could see where Kurt pointed.

Kurt nodded.  “Yep.  But I cleaned it up.  You’ve been out for like five minutes.  Was it really that good?”

“I didn’t get to finish with you yesterday, but yes, it really was.  And now, I get to show you, after a few more minutes of recovery,” Blaine smiled as he rested his head on Kurt’s milky, white chest.  “Would you like me to?”

Kurt nodded.  “It actually felt pretty amazing for me too.  Until Cooper barged in on us.  Where is he, by the way?  He hasn’t barged in on us once today.”

“Oh shit!”  What time is it?”

At that exact moment, Kurt heard a buzzing.  “Is that your phone?”

“Nightstand,” Blaine pointed.  “I turned off the ringer so that we didn’t get interrupted.  He’s called three times and sent seven texts. I hope he’s alright.”

“What’s wrong?” Kurt inquired, pulling on his underwear.  “Is he ok?”

“He left a message,” Blaine said as he cleaned himself with the damp cloth that Kurt had set aside for them.  “Oh God!  He went for the wax without me.”

“Is he mad?”

“He sent a video message.”

Cooper popped up on the screen, waving wildly as he sat shirtless on a massage table while a few women busied themselves with tasks in the parlor. “Hey Squirt!  Thanks for making the appointment for me.  I know you said you’d go with me, but it sounded kinda awkward to have my brother come with me while I get my ass waxed so I went without you.  I decided to get my chest waxed too.  They told me I’d be three times sexier if my rock hard chest was smooth.  I asked one of the ladies to record it so you could see the results.  So far, It’s not so bad,” Cooper said as a pretty Asian woman slathered the wax on his chest.  “They tried to get me to shave it first but I told them I could take it.  The wax actually feels pretty- HOLY SHIT!”  Cooper screeched as the lady ripped off the large strip of wax near his nipple.  “ BLAINE, YOU LITTLE JERKOFF!  THAT HURTS LIKE HELL!  TURN IT OFF!  HELL NO, I'M NOT LYING BACK DOWN.  AND THERE’S NO WAY IN HELL YOU’RE JERKING THE HAIRS OUT OF MY ASS.  BLAINE, I’M KICKING YOUR ASS WHEN I GET HOME.  ACTUALLY, NO.  I HAVE A BETTER IDEA.”  

The video ended abruptly.  

Kurt fell back on the bed laughing.  “Oh my God!  That was priceless. Did you tell them to do that?”

Blaine nodded as a massive grin spread across his face. “Next time, he’ll call first,” he chuckled.  

He sounded pretty pissed.  What do you think he might mean by saying that he had a better idea.”

“I don’t know.  It’s Cooper.  Remember when he got the bright idea to try to sneak backstage at that Queen concert because he was “famous” enough that the security guard would just let him back.”

“How long is banned from the Nationwide Arena?” Kurt laughed.

“Until 2022,” Blaine chuckled.  “If his big idea is as well thought out as that one, we have nothing to worry about.  Besides, don't you always say that karma’s a bitch?”

“Almost as big of one as I can be,” Kurt added with a smile.

“You are not a bitch unless someone deserves your wrath, and then you just dish out what’s coming?” Blaine said, kissing Kurt with a loud mwah sound.  

“And you know what should be coming right now?  Me.  I believe we have unfinished business,” Kurt growled, pulling Blaine down on top of him.

_____________________________________________________________________ 

Half an hour later, both boys are lying naked on Blaine’s bed, kissing lazily, loosely wrapped up in a thin sheet.  Kurt let out a sigh and kissed Blaine squarely on the lips.

Kurt sighed as he kissed Blaine sweetly on the forehead.  “Now I get it.  The reason you blacked out.  That was amazing, Blaine.  Totally worth the waxing, although I probably won’t endure that again.”

Blaine nuzzled Kurt’s cheek.  “I told you that you didn’t need to do it just for me.  It’s up to you.  I put the wax away in the bathroom cabinet in case you want to do it again.”

“Did you push it to the back? I don’t want your housekeeper or your mom finding it and asking us where it came from.  It was bad enough when Lupe found our lube and told your mom about it.” Kurt chuckled as his fingers caressed his boyfriend’s bare chest.  

Blaine nodded to signify that he agreed.  “That was mortifying. I got “the talk” after that.”

“Oh please.  My dad gave me the talk after you decided that he needed to give me one.  It couldn’t have been been as bad as the one my dad gave me.  There were pamphlets. How could your experience be worse than mine.”

“My mom gave me a family-sized box of condoms and then demonstrated how to put one on using a banana.”

Kurt laughed. “Oh my god.  That is so much worse,” That’s the reason you almost upchucked when I suggested banana splits that weekend.” Kurt chuckled. 

 Blaine nodded as Kurt’s phone beeped. “Hey, no phones when we’re messing around,” Blaine reminded Kurt.  

I’m sorry but it’s buzzed three times.  I figured it might be important.   He grabbed his phone and started checking his notifications.  “Hey, Cooper posted something on your Twitter wall,” Kurt said with a smile.  

Blaine reached over and grabbed his phone from the nightstand.  “I hope it’s the waxing video.  That was hilari-” Blaine froze.  “Oh my God!  Kurt, did you read it?  He tagged us both.” Blaine asked, thrusting his phone in Kurt’s face.

“Oh my God!  I’m going to kill him!”

Cooper Anderson aka slash savings:  So I have a big announcement.  I’ve got a gig on a brand new show that will air next summer.  Thanks to my baby bro, Blainey and his beau, Kurt Hummel, for the advice on rimming.  Apparently, my gaybies are sexperts after what I walked in on yesterday.  

Underneath was a photo of Blaine bending over a very bare looking Kurt.  It was obvious that they were naked even though Cooper had blacked out the boy’s asses.

 “Oh my God!  It’s a public post.  And he crossposted on Facebook!” Blaine exclaimed, scrambling out of bed, the sheet barely wrapped around him.  “I’m going to kill him, he said as he grabbed his laptop off of the nightstand and jerked it open.  He opened his Twitter and pulled up his account.

“You?” Kurt shrieked.  “The girls, Mr. Shue! My dad.  They’re all on Facebook.  I’ll never be able to show my face again.  Can you delete it?”

“It’s not my post.  Oh my God.  He posted twenty minutes ago.  People have already started replying.” Blaine exclaimed as he scrolled through the tweets.

N. Puckerman, Mercedes Jones and 33 others like this.

Brittany S. Pierce: No fair!   When Kurt and I were dating, I couldn't even get him to lick my armpits.  :(

Rachel Barbara Berry: @Brittany S. Pierce.  Ew!  

Finn Hudson:  Oh God!  That’s my little brother!  I’ll never unsee that!

Fair Porcelain @Finn Hudson: I’m six months older than you.

         Santana Lopez @Finn Hudson: Judging by how much of your little brother Coop blacked out, there’s nothing little there. 

Puckerman aka Puckasaurus: Dude.  How do you squeeze all of that into those tight ass pants you wear?  Emphasis on a tight ass.  @Blaine Warbler: seems you loosened him up a little, in more ways than one.

Santana Lopez aka Auntie Snix:  Wanky!

Finn Hudson: I’m outta this conversation.  

Mercedes Jones:  Do I even want to know what rimming means?”

        Santana Lopez aka Auntie Snix:  It’s some kinky shit.  Pun intended.

        Kurt Hummel@ Santana Lopez aka Auntie Snix, you said your lips were sealed!

        Santana Lopez@ FairPorcelain apparently Blaine’s weren’t and neither is your ass.  Get it Kurt!

       Fair Porcelain@Santana Lopez aka Auntie Snix, remember our conversation in the car. I’d check all your products and hair care products for the next six months.  Payback’s a bitch.

      Santana Lopez @Fair Porcelain:  Shutting up.

      Fair Porcelain@Santana Lopez aka Auntie Snix, Too Late!

Puckerman aka Puckasaurus @FairPorcelain: No reason to get all anal on us, just Blaine.  LMAO.   

Artie Abrams:  I knew they had to be getting it on since after West Side Story, yo.  I mean with the way Blaine’s dancing has gone from boy band corny to some hip thrustin’ action.   

Rachel Barbara Berry:  Oh my god!   This is my best friend.  How am I ever gonna look at him straight again?

       Puckerman aka Puckasaurus@ Rachel Barbara Berry:   No worries.  Judging by that angle, Blaine doesn’t look at him straight either!  8^D

Quinn Fabray:  It looks like with your flexibility and willingness to show some skin, Sue might want to recruit both of you for the Cheerios.  

Fair Porcelain:  This was supposed to be private.

       N Puckerman aka Puckasaurus @ Fair Porcelain:   Oh trust me.  We see privates.  

Santana Lopez aka Auntie Snix:   Wanky!!!!!!

 Blaine Warbler @ Cooper Anderson slash savings:  WHAT THE HELL, COOP!  THIS IS INEXCUSABLE! TAKE IT DOWN THIS INSTANT.puckerman aka Puckasaurus:  Take it down.   Oooh! I bet that’s what our boy Kurt said.

Fair Porcelain @ N. Puckerman aka Paulasaurus:  Oh shut it!

      Puckerman aka Puckasaurus: I guarantee that  Anderson didn’t say that!

Blaine Warbler @ N. Puckerman aka Puckasaurus:  Stop 🛑!

      Puckerman aka Puckasaurus:  I guarantee he didn’t say that either!

Fair Porcelain @  N Puckerman aka Puckasaurus:  Butt out!

Artie Abrams aka Captain Wheelie:  Another thing I bet Blaine said at that particular moment.  :^D

Fair Porcelain:   I hate you all right now, especially you@ Cooper AndersonSlash savings

 Cooper Anderson slash savings@ Fair Porcelain:   It looks like you were lovin' My Little Blainey boy very much in that moment!  

Blaine Warbler @ Cooper Anderson slash savings:  I’M WARNING YOU! TAKE IT DOWN RIGHT NOW!

Cooper Anderson slash savings @ Blaine Warbler:  Or What, Squirt?  :^D 

__________________________________________________________________________

Cooper chuckled to himself as he read the comments on his Twitter page.  It was just a joke.  He was totally going to take it down.  Eventually.  Once the sting from the waxing subsided.  He winced as he softly rubbed over the bare spot on his chest.  All of a sudden, his phone began ringing.  He answered it without even looking, which he immediately regretted doing when he heard the high pitched squeal from the other side of the line.

“Oh My God!  Is this Cooper Anderson?  From the Free Credit Rating Today Dot Com Commercials?  I can’t believe that you tweeted that video with your phone number!  My girlfriend Celeste, well, my bff, not my girlfriend, girlfriend, said that I shouldn't call because a real celebrity wouldn’t actually tweet his phone number, but I told her it had to be you because I follow your Twitter religiously and you do crazy stuff like this all the time.  And hey, don’t worry about the botched wax job.  That shit hurts.  You’re still a sexy-”

Cooper hit the end call button and pulled up his Twitter to see that Blaine had responded to his Tweet.  

Blaine Warbler@Cooper Anderson slash savings: Digging your new look!

He didn’t even have to click play to know it was the video of him getting waxed, but it wasn’t just the short clip he had sent Blaine.  It was the entire session which had ended with him running out of the spa with only a towel clutched around his waist, screaming obscenities.  He couldn’t even watch the video without being interrupted every few seconds by another obnoxious fan calling to see if it was really him on the phone.  He quickly deleted the video and changed his password when he heard his phone ring again.  

“Hi, yes, sorry mate, but this is not the superstar Cooper Anderson from the FreeCreditReportratingsTodayDotCom,” he said in his best Australian accent. “Someone was just pulling your leg-

“Cooper, darling.  This is Slyvia, your agent.  And Bridgett from PR is on the line.”

“Cooper, Oh My god!  What have you done this time!  Tweeting your number?” Bridgett screeched.

“I didn’t do that.  That was my brother.  But I’ve already contacted Verizon about changing my number and I took down the tweet.  Hopefully, it won’t be that bad.”

“Oh, I wasn’t even upset by all of that, Darling,” Slyvia said matter of factly.  “I’m more upset by the announcement on Facebook that you’re down exclusively doing gay porn.  I told you  if you wanted to do that, then I could hook you up with the right connections.  Just last week, XXXTRA contacted me about you doing that new movie, How to Strain Your Dragon: The Hidden Hole.”

“Sylvia, I’m not doing porn,” he sighed.  “Not again, anyway." Cooper sighed and muttered to himself. "Well played, Blainey. Well played." 

“Oh poo, darling.  But are you still wanting to do the article with Men’s Health magazine?  They’ll want to do an exclusive with you.”

Cooper smiled.  “They want to do an exclusive with me?  Why?  Because of the show and the life-saving techniques I learned for the role?

 Bridgett laughed.  “No.  They want to do an exclusive about your mechanophilia. It’s not every day that somebody admits that they like to stick their junk into tailpipes and engines and stuff.”

“What!” Cooper gasped, causing him to almost fumble his phone.  He took a deep breath.  “Ladies, I’ve got to go.  Please call the magazine and tell them I’d be thrilled to do an interview, but that someone was just playing a joke about the car thing.  I like to have sex in cars, not with them. But I’d love to talk about the complications of performing CPR on a mannequin and how I almost drowned after I hit my head when I dove into the wrong side of the pool.” Cooper chuckled.  “And I’ll make sure that I will change my Facebook password too.  But I have to go.   I need to make another call.” Cooper hit the end call button and hit Blaine’s name on his contacts.

“BLAINE DEVON ANDERSON, I WILL KICK YOUR HAIRLESS AS-”

“COOPER EUGENE ANDERSON, YOU ARE EXPECTED HOME IN TWENTY MINUTES, IS THAT CLEAR, YOUNG MAN!” 

“Yes ma’am, I mean, mom.”   Cooper gulped.

______________________________________________________________

"Hey, gotta wrap this up.  Mom said five minutes and I'm pretty sure she means it," Blaine said into his camera.

“Was it worth it, being grounded for a month?” Kurt asked Blaine over Facetime. 

“Yeah, it really was.  You should’ve seen Coop’s face.  Mom’s really scary when you do something to embarrass our family name,” Blaine shuddered.  

“I’m sorry,” Kurt pouted.  I didn’t mean to get you grounded.

“Don’t be.  Even with all this craziness, I had the most incredible time with you, and it was all worth it, although it sucks that we won’t be able to do it again for a long time,” Blaine said with his biggest puppy-dog pout.

“That just means we’ll have to improvise,” Kurt grinned slyly.  

“What do you suggest?” Blaine asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“When I went to that sex shop, I might have picked up something that I didn’t let Santana know about,” Kurt smirked.  “Something we could play with.”

“Oh God, Kurt.  Did you buy a toy?”

Kurt smiled and bit his lip, his cheeks blushing red.  “Maybe.”

“That’s so hot.  We’ll have to-”

All of a sudden, Kurt’s door jerked open.  Finn held up Kurt’s new razor.  “Hey, dude.  Is it ok that I borrowed your razor?  I couldn’t find mine.”

Kurt bit his lip trying to stifle his laughter when he thought about the last thing he had shaved with that razor was Blaine’s ass.  “Yeah, sure.”

“Why do they call it the Lawnmower?” Finn asked, scratching his head.

“I’m sure they have their reasons, Finn,” Kurt laughed.  

__________________________________________________________________________ 

Author’s Notes:  Well, that’s it for this piece.  I hope that you all liked reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.  Reviews are like chocolates.  I’d love to hear from you guys. 

[mellowdreamer]

the aioli incident.

the aioli incident, you say? *takes a long sip of coffee* it has been a long, long time since someone has asked me to recount the tale. sit, please, and allow me to tell you a magnificent and really fuckin embarrassing story.

the stage: a park bench across a small creek from my local mcdonalds (fondly known as maccas here in the land down under).

this park bench, though appearing innocent, had been the bane of my existence for many a month. you see, i have this ex-boyfriend with which things did not exactly end well. he broke up with me through my ex-girlfriend and then would later accuse me of stealing all his friends.

to which i say, what fuckin friends, limp dick?

anyway, this park bench was where we had our first kiss and first make out session. for many months after the rough breakup, i would go out of my way to avoid this area of town. i think i went to that mcdonalds only a few times, and never alone.

this became a point of stress for three reasons. one, i fancy myself as a boss ass bitch who can handle herself. two, fuck that greasy severus snape looking white boy. three, i love maccas’ coffee frappes and pre-quarantine, i used to long for one every monday morning.

the problem here was that i could not enter that part of town without thinking about the ex-boyfriend.

however, as mentioned before i fancy myself as a boss ass bitch who can handle herself. i wasn’t going to let my past dictate my present. and thus, i decided i was going to make new memories at the park bench.

as quarantine restrictions lifted in my state, i was conflicted. i knew i had to make new memories with a friend there, but the friend i wanted to bring along shared no free periods with me, and i didn’t want to take up her time after school or in our lunch break. i thought about going alone a couple of times, but chickened out.

but then, a stroke of luck!

one day, the friend’s biology class was cancelled. it was a miracle.

during quarantine, i’d confided in her the issues i was having with that bench and how that was the reason i never went with her to get maccas’ chicken nuggets. after her class was cancelled, she reminded me of my goal to make new memories at the bench and hauled me to maccas.

we placed our order of 24 chicken nuggets, and with that order came the option for four different sauces. she chose two sweet n sour sauces, whereas i felt like being different and chose one big mac sauce and one aioli sauce.

once we got our mcnuggets, we left the mcdonalds with one (1) wistful look each towards the playground and made a beeline for the bench. it was a warm june day, uncharacteristic for the usually bitter australian winter, and we enjoyed the sunshine on the brisk walk. 

my friend and i sat down on the bench and opened our nuggets. the smell of artificial chicken and tangy sauce filled the air as we dug in. we talked, laughed, and enjoyed each other’s presence. we hadn’t gotten to spend a lot of one-on-one time outside of school for a while and this was a breath of fresh air.

at least, it would’ve been, if not for the fly.

as you may know, flies are incredibly common in australia. i don’t know if they are in other countries as well, but they’re pretty much everywhere down here, and they will mob you if you have food out.

we, of course, had food out.

though you may have expected otherwise, the flies did not hound the nuggets. perhaps they were uninterested in the golden brown, crispy chicken mcnuggets. or, perhaps something more sinister was afoot.

the flies swarmed me more than they did my friend, and i kept having to bat them away from my sauce container. however, my attention span and reflexes are flawed, and one of the flies landed in my aioli sauce.

put off by the idea of stinky fly legs in my sauce, i shooed the flies away one last time and they left me alone to examine the damage. my prized aioli sauce had been ruined by the flies. upset, and to the background music of my friend’s laughter, i placed the aioli container on the ground for later disposal. 

and thus, my fate had been sealed.

i noticed moments later how the white of the aioli sauce contrasted the black of my ripoff doc martens. curious, i moved my foot until it was up against the aioli sauce, bumping the plastic container. the thunk the container made was pleasing to my easily impressed ears.

i wondered what it would sound like if i kicked the container at full force. i lamented this to my friend, saying “i kind of want to boot it.”

my friend, ever the instigator, replied “bet you won’t.”

now, you may not know this about me if you don’t know me well, but i am nothing if not determined. while some of you may run on oxygen, i run on pure spite. my friend knew what she was doing when she bet against me.

and so i, professional dumbass and parttime egghead, kicked the aioli container at full force.

now, what i hadn’t realised in my endeavour to prove my friend wrong was that aioli sauce goes everywhere when you kick it as hard as you possibly can. in one (1) kick i managed to absolutely cover:

half of my shoe

the little bit of ankle poking out from under my cuffed jeans

the bottom of said jeans

most of the ground in front of us

in aioli sauce.

my friend fell over cackling as i slumped back onto the park bench, defeated.

i had proved my friend wrong, but at what cost?

anyway, to sum this all up: i’m an idiot who’s love for aioli sauce was luckily not diminished by this incident.

( @what-would-azula-do and @mistythegirlfluxmess both asked what the aioli incident was, and i ended up writing 1000+ words at 12am on the funniest thing that happened to me in june. )

( also the friend doesn’t have a tumblr for me to tag but i asked her if she wanted to say anything and she said “◡̈⋆🅷🅸(●’◡’●)ﾉ” )

[timeaftertime-chriscornellfanfic]

Chapter 30 - It’s A Broken Kind Of Feeling

Dusseldorf Germany, April 16 1990

(Chris is 25, Andi is 20)

CHRIS:  "Andi?" I call after her but she slams the divider door. Standing there in the middle of the bus I can feel Kim and Matt looking at me as Jason peaks his head out of his bunk to asses the situation. This is the first fight they've actually seen between Andi and me and I have to say it was just a little awkward. Just as I was about to follow her, I see Kim shaking his head at me and lighting up a cigarette.

"What?" I ask.

"I think maybe you should just give her some space," Kim says.

"I need to make sure she's ok, I was only trying to stand up for her,"

"Chris... just stop and sit down... it's been a long night," Kim says to me but I make my way to the back of the bus, not even listening. I need to explain myself. I need her to know I was only trying to help.

"Andi?" I say quietly but I hear nothing on the other side. "Baby? Ok, I know you're angry with me but... I just..." I start but I still don't hear anything. "Babe? Can I come in?" I ask but still nothing. I felt my heart begin to pick up pace and I reach down to the divider handle pulling it open and see her clothes left in a pile on the floor.

*****

Seattle Washington, January 23 1990

(Andi is 20 and 20)

ANDI: "Fuck me," I say as I find myself in a familiar room, completely naked on the floor. I flip my curls out of my face and sit myself up leaning against the bed. It's our old bedroom, in the old apartment we lived in with Andy. I exhale and look around the room with my guitars on their stands next to Chris's, the posters of our favorite bands plastered all over the walls and a part of me can feel just how much I missed this place.

"I didn't want to slip... why can't I just..." I say quietly to myself as I bring my knees up to my chest, and rest my elbow, threading my fingers through my curls and gripping my roots. I'm frustrated. I'm frustrated at how the show went, I'm frustrated at that idiot promoter who just wouldn't let up on me and I'm frustrated that I can't let go of the grief I feel inside for Andy. I don't want to feel this way. I hate that I'm constantly leaving Chris all the fucking time. I hate that I can't control this... this insipid curse that takes me away from everyone and everything I love.

I sit for a little while trying to gather myself together, but also just letting myself feel the grief and heartbreak I've been feeling since the day Andy left. Just like how I felt when my mother left me, only this time, it's different. Andy's death affected me, and is still affecting me like I never thought it would.

I then decide to move over to my dresser and pull out some panties and a plain black bra, a plain racer back tank top and a frayed denim skirt. It was probably the easiest clothing find since I used to slip into Chris' room in the basement. Once I slip on some socks and my Doc Martens, I check myself in the mirror making sure I look presentable, and cautiously walk out into the hallway and see the apartment completely dark and slightly messy from what looked like a party that had taken place. I walk passed Andy's room and stop myself to just take a look since his door was left open. His room is the same as I remember with his bed still all a mess since he never made it. I can just hear his voice now...

'What's the point, if I'm gonna sleep in it anyways?'

I step over to his dresser where he would hang his scarves off the corner of the mirror and see tons of photos of him and Xana and a few of Me and Chris and one photo of me and Andy that I can't remember who took for the life of me. I glance down at the top of the dresser where a little calendar was turned to January and see the date circled in red marker and my name in bold 'Andrea's 20th'

It's my birthday? Wait... now I remember. Everyone is at The Moore.

I quickly head towards the door and grab my black spring jacket and head out of the apartment.

*****

It was a short walk to The Moore, only just a few blocks from the apartment. Once I round the corner I see a small line up of people waiting to get inside, so instead I make my way around the back of the building to the parking lot where I see Chris' blue Ford pick up truck that was parked next to the back entrance door. I make my way over to his truck and just as I come around the back, I see Andy leaning against the brick wall beside the back door puffing away on a cigarette.

Just the sight of him standing there with his blonde mane down passed his shoulders in a leather jacket with a plain black loosely fitted tank top, white jeans and Doc Marten's on his feet made a lump instantly form in my throat.

"Hey my love, what are you doing out here?" He says so sweetly with a smile. I couldn't help myself as I walk up to him, my bottom lip trembling, my eyebrows pulled to together trying my best to not bawl like a baby in the parking lot in front of him. "Andi?"

I start to cry and his expression changes as he removes himself from the wall flicking his cigarette off somewhere.

"Andi love, what happened?" He asks concerned and I couldn't bring myself to say the words as he embraces me in the warmest hug I've had from him in so long.

It was at that moment that I couldn't help the overwhelming grief bubbling up from inside me and I started to cry hard, I mean really hard. He holds me tighter to him, holding my head to his shoulder and softly rubs my back soothingly as I just let my tears flow. In all the years that we've known each other, he has never seen me break down like this and there is no way that I can tell him what has happened - what will happen in the next few months. After a few more moments I finally move myself from him and he places his lips to my forehead as I wipe my tears from my cheeks.

"It's you're Birthday love, you shouldn't be crying on your birthday. Was it Cornell? I'll kick his ass if it was him," He says when he breaks away from me. I give a little giggle because technically it was him, just not from this time.

"No, no it wasn't Chris," My voice breaks and I sniff. I look up at him and he brushes  a few curls away from my face and all I wanted to do was just keep this moment forever.

"You want me to try and find Xana?" He says softly.

"No, it's ok. I just... I wanna stay here with you... just for a little while," I say without even thinking how that might sound but I don't care. He looks around the parking lot for a moment and then back at me once again giving me that sweet smile.

"Take a walk with me?" He asks.

"Ok," I say softly and he takes my hand and we slowly walk through the parking lot out to the sidewalk.

"There's a little park up here... we can just sit for a while," He says and I nod as he continues to hold my hand in his. We eventually arrive at the little park a few blocks away from The Moore and find a picnic table to sit at.

"So love, what's going on with the birthday girl?" Andy says as he flips his blonde locks behind his shoulder, sitting across from me on the same side of the picnic table, but close enough that he could still rest his hand on my thigh.

"I don't know," I exhale and shrug my shoulders and try to think of what exactly to say to him. He pulls out a small silver flask from the pocket of his pants and unscrews the cap taking a sip, then offers me some. I gladly take it from him and take a sip from the flask, tasting the sharp bite of alcohol and flinch just a little bit.

"It's vodka," He smiles.

"I figured," I say making a face, taking a few more sips and handing it back to him while he chuckles. We sit in silence with each other, feeling the soft gentle January breeze blow through. I guess that Vodka warmed me up a little because that breeze feels amazing.

"You wanna tell me what's going on?" He asks after a long while of us just sitting with each other.

"I do, but... I can't," I say trying to hold myself together.

"Why not, love? I swear, I'll kick Cornell's ass if I have to, I mean it. I know I'm shorter than him but... well... everyone's shorter than him... jeeze he's like some sort of blue eyed Adonis isn't he?" He chuckles and I start to giggle. "see that's much better than your tears,"

We both fall silent with each other again as Andy studies me and once again I just wanted to feel his arms around me, to feel him alive again. I lean myself in and place my head on his chest as he gently holds my head to him once more. Then after a few minutes I lift my head from his chest and touch my forehead to his, then without even realizing just what was happening , his lips were on mine.

At first I hesitated, knowing that it was wrong but I suddenly somehow didn't care and responded to him as his hands somehow made their was around my back pulling me closer into him so that I was practically sitting in his lap. Our kiss quickly becomes heated, turning slightly aggressive as his fingers find their way up under my shirt, lifting it up under my jacket and revealing my bra to him. He breaks from my lips and quickly moves down to my chest, his hands cupping the sides of my breasts as I grip my fingers through his blonde locks. I had no idea what the hell I was doing but I never expected this to happen at all. In fact I know this is completely wrong. Andy's my friend. We were only ever just friends and nothing more. But god damn this feels good.

He lays me back on the bench, his hands moving down to my thighs and pulling my skirt up while his lips move down my stomach. I squeeze my eyes closed, biting my bottom lip when I feel his hardness through his pants against me. Suddenly he stops kissing my skin and presses his forehead to my stomach as I cover my face with my hands.

"Andrea... Andrea what the fuck are we doing?" He pants and I feel like I'm about to cry all over again.

"I don't know... I  - I don't know," I say muffled through my hands and start to cry all over again. He lifts himself from me and helps pull my shirt back down, then takes my hand from my face as I begin to sob.

"Love ?- "

"No, don't," I cry as he helps me sit back up noticing the tattoo on my finger.

"Andi are you... are you time slipping?" He asks and I couldn't look at him, I couldn't bare the thought of never seeing him again and I didn't want to do this anymore.

"I'm sorry I have to go," I sniff.

"Love?" He says and reaches for me as I rise from the bench, but I pull away. "Andrea?!"

I begin to make my way out of the park wrapping my jacket around myself and wiping my tears from my cheeks as Andy follows. I can hear him still calling for me but I couldn't look back.

"Andrea wait," He says, catching my hand and turning me to face him. "Look I don't know what happened, and I know you said you can't tell me but... I'm here if you need me, you know that right, love?" He continues with his brown eyes searching mine. I still couldn't say anything.

"I won't say anything to Chris, I promise" He re-assures me reaching up and cupping my face in his palm.

"Ok,"I say quietly and he gives me a small smile, then pulls me in and places his lips to my forehead just like he always did whenever I was upset.

"C'mon, your man is playing tonight and on your birthday so... we should head back," He says as he pushes a stray curl from my eyes. I give him a small smile and he takes my hand and we walk back towards The Moore.

Once we reach the back door, I tell Andy that i just have to use the washroom so he heads inside first. Once I enter I see him disappear around the corner to the dressing room and I make my way in the opposite direction to gather myself together as best I can when I suddenly see myself walking towards me, dark curls all around. I always knew this moment was going to happen but it's so strange to be on the other side of it.

"Hi" I say to her.

"Hey," She smiles, knowing nothing of the few months ahead in store for her and for everyone.

[shannygoatgruff]

My Brother’s Keeper - Chapter V

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Characters: Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Rating: MA 18+

Overall Warning:  Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia, and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.  

Chapter Warning: Angst, talk of violence, drug use

Summary: Mama always said to be their brothers’ keeper. Now there is absolutely nothing these two won’t do for each other.  Boys will be boys…

Chapter V

I can't figure out why I'm so edgy today.  For all intents and purposes, I should be pretty fucking happy.  I had a great time last night.  I slept well, took a good shit this morning, and had a delicious breakfast with Ivar.  Instead of pancakes, today, he made French toast.  I was thoroughly impressed.  

I even worked on a few things in the basement while I waited for Thora’s morning classes to be done.  I meant it last night when I told her I wanted to spend the day with her today. I just wish that I was in a better mood now.  ‘Cause right now, everything is annoying the fuck out of me.  

Sometimes, I can’t stand how childish Thora is.  I mean, she’s a grown-ass woman, so why does her room look like a five-year-old’s?  Everything in here is a hideous shade of pink.  Stupid fucking unicorns, teddy bears, and little porcelain things decorate her shelves and her bed is always perfectly made up with a fluffy pink and white comforter. It’s just all so…innocent. 

I shouldn’t be all that surprised – her room reminds me of her.  Sweet…girly…fucking perfect, just like her. It’s fucking sickening. Sometimes everything I love about her, the fact that she’s so different from the people I like to party with is the one thing about her that drives me fucking insane.  

I need to get out of this room and get some air before I break every fucking thing in here. 

I walk out of her dorm and outside into the chilly afternoon.  The autumn breeze is cool on my face and helps me focus on something other than my uneasiness.  It’s so crisp out here, today.  Believe it or not, this is my favorite time of year to party.  I don’t know what it is about the fall, but people seem to be out more than they are in the spring or the summer.  Maybe it’s the wonderful colors of the season or the smell of the decaying leaves?  Whatever it is, people seem to come out in droves and I’m fucking here for it.  There are so many more adventurous people that are willing to party this time of year, it gets my blood racing.

Jesus, am I still thinking about partying?  Normally, the day after Ivar and I go out, I just concentrate on being with my girl.  Being with her helps me put my life back in perspective. She’s my reminder of what my other life is going to be like when I get this hunger under control.  She helps dull the cravings for a few more days before the gnawing starts again and I need to feed it.  I know I’ve been wanting to party more often than I usually do, but it’s never been the next day.  Being around her is supposed to help me forget about it.  

But, right now it’s not working.  

I need to get myself together because when I’m with Thora, she depends on me to take care of her.  I do for her what Ivar does for me.  Besides giving me something else to concentrate on other than finding the next one, when I’m with her, I just want to comfort her. Especially, since she cries a lot. She's like a little girl that's not in control of her emotions. Whether she's happy, sad, or scared, the tears are the same. I know it sounds weird, but I like when she cries. I think it’s because I can usually make it all better. At least, I'm so busy trying, that partying doesn't cross my mind…not a lot anyway. 

Today, though, I can’t comfort a damn soul.  Not with my heart about to jump out of my chest.  This fucking anxiety is overwhelming. I had fun last night so I shouldn't even want to again this soon.

I should be able to ignore this. It's not like I can't function without it. It's more irritating than anything, like a constant nagging. I like I can hear it calling me from far away, but it's getting louder by the minute. I bet it was because I had to rush last night. I was so busy trying to finish before that guy died and shitted on me that I finished too quickly.  That’s got to be the reason.  That is exactly why I  hate rushing.

If we go out tonight I'm gonna do it slowly; take my time and do it right. I'm going to do everything I want and I won't give myself a time limit. That's the only way to make my palms stop sweating and get my heart to stop beating like I’m running a goddamn marathon. Yeah, going slow will make it better. It has to because I hate this feeling.

I reach my forefinger and thumb into the small change pocket of my jeans and retrieve the two pills there.  Without hesitation, I pop the two Klonopin in my mouth before taking a healthy sip from my water bottle.  I wish I had something stronger. That reminds me that Ivar and I need to visit that guy he knows across town to reup on party favors.  What kind of hosts would we be if we didn’t keep libations to put our guests in the mood?  We’ve really been slacking, lately.  I know for at least the past week, I haven’t been all that impressed with our selection.  I’ve just been reaching in the bottom of the bowl and using whatever I pick up.  I haven’t been properly stoned in at least 5 days.  This shit is amateur hour. But, it’s better than nothing to take the edge off. 

My hand shakes as I bring that guy’s lighter to the end of my cigarette, but it stops as soon as the taste of menthol enters my mouth. My lungs open up, clouding with thick smoke and a sudden calm washes over me. My eyes close on their own as the head rush takes over. It's not as good as I’ll feel when these pills kick in, but it'll do for right now.

Thora’s arms come around my waist and I roll my head over to look at her. She looks like she's worried about me. I have been a little quiet today, and there's no good explanation I can give her. She just thinks I'm not feeling well.

I'm not.

"You okay?" Her lips poke out in a pout as she rests her chin on my arm. She can't see the bruise on my shoulder under my long sleeve shirt, but it hurts. I think it happened carrying the blonde from the front seat to the warehouse. It was hard to maneuver him from the way he was sitting in the car to draping him over my shoulder. I must have bumped up against the car door or something because now I have a huge bruise.

Trying not to flinch, my arm comes around her shoulder and I pull her closer to me. "Fine." For the most part that's true. I do feel better holding her, I just don’t know long this reprieve will last.

"Let's go for a walk." She grabs my hand and I follow behind her. 

My lips start to turn up into a smirk and Thora turns to me and smiles. I feel a little twinge of guilt because she thinks my look is about her.  Honestly, I’m thinking about the fact that her campus is crawling with people that I could party with. If Ivar were here right now, we'd have a fucking field day. There are so many bored people around just looking to have fun. We could have our pick of them and show them the best time. There no telling some of the shit we could get to if we just let our imaginations run wild.

As the leaves crunch under my feet, I watch the way Thora kicks them with each step she takes. She's so graceful and childlike; she's going to make the perfect mother for my children. This hobby is just that, a hobby. I don’t understand how Ivar can doubt my decision.  Watching the impish way Thora moves, the concerned way she stares, the careful way she worries about me, I know that when this over it'll work out with us. She's exactly the transition I need from this phase of life to my next one.

She loves me and I think I love her. At least that's what I tell myself all the time. I love that I'm going to marry her and that she's going to raise my children. I love that she's so innocent and that she knows that I won't hurt her. I love the way she needs me. That means I love her, right? It doesn't matter really. I will love the life that I'm supposed to have with her.

Her hand grips mine tighter as we approach the people standing in the middle of the quad. Something is off. They're all huddled around one guy, hanging on his every word, whispering to each other, shrugging, and offering sympathy every now and again. Thora's arms wrap around mine and her head leans on my shoulder like she's feeling their pain. "His boyfriend didn't come home last night," she says quietly to me.

I look from her worried blue eyes to the blue-green eyes of the dark-haired man standing there. His red-rimmed eyes are swollen from crying and yet look sunken in on his pale face.  The look of terror in his eyes is reminiscent of the way Thora looks when she talks about Ivar. He's petrified and for some reason, my stomach starts to drop because of it.

The toe of my Doc Marten creates a small hole in the ground as I twist my foot to extinguish the cigarette. I can't stop staring as Thora moves to stand in front of the tall, brunette. She must know him.  Looking at her face, I can tell she’s feeling his pain.  It's enough to make me want to hurt him so he can stop hurting her. 

"Kalf, still no word?"

Fresh tears spring to Kalf’s eyes when he shakes his head. "We fought last night.” He uses his entire hand to wipe the tears running down his face, “A few people said they saw him dancing at Danger, but then he just disappeared.”  His voice starts to crack with each word as his fear starts to get the better of him, “We fight all the time, but he always comes home. He hasn't called or anything. Erlendur always calls."

"Maybe he just needs time to get his head together." My voice comes out soft and unsure. I don't even know why I spoke. 

When Thora's teary eyes turn in my turn in my direction, my throat starts to close.

Erlendur. This Erlendur is the guy from last night, he has to be. He was the one at Danger. He was the one that talked about his boyfriend with Ivar as we walked to the car. 

Shit! His name was Erlendur. He wasn't just the blonde tramp that we met at a club, but a kid; a college student with a boyfriend and friends, including my girl. He had a real-life like he was a real person. Why the fuck did he have to be real? He was just supposed to be a good time, not a person with a life outside of that moment.

By the time I open my eyes and steady myself on my feet, Thora's arms are around me again. I can't stand to be around her right now. Those innocent blue eyes are tearing into me at a level like I've never known before. Thora is hurting and it's because of me. She's worried about her friend because of something I did. I'm supposed to be the one to protect her and I've done just the opposite. 

Kalf's concerned eyes for Erlendur are exactly how Thora's eyes cloud over with concern for me. "Hvitserk? Are you alright?"

My head shakes as I try to keep myself from throwing up. "I don't feel so hot. I'm gonna take off." I offer her a smile to keep her calm, but she doesn't seem to be convinced by it. Her forehead is warm on my lips and her body is soft in my arms, but this is all I can give her right now. The guilt is like molten lava creeping up my neck. I know my cheeks are turning red and the pounded in my head lets me know right away that this isn't going to end well. "I'll call you later." 

Turning to Kalf, I stuff my hands in my pockets and refuse to meet his eyes. "I hope your friend turns up soon."

I barely manage to get around the building before I bend at the waist and try to catch my breath. I hate to hyperventilate. My hands rest on the top of my thighs as I try to control my breathing. I'm almost gulping in the air but it isn't helping. The only thing it's doing is making my throat burn and my lungs feel like they're going to explode. 

"Fucking, Erlendur. Motherfucker." Muffled curses pour from my lips, while I stumble my way to the car door. The wheezing in my chest doesn't stop, but it slows when I focus my attention on the fact that that fucker had a fucking name. 

I don't give a fuck about him or what we did to him. It does bother me though that the people he left behind are worried. They have no idea how we partied with him. They don't know that my face was the last one he saw before he stopped breathing altogether. Would Thora cry if she knew that Ivar beat him and skinned parts of his body? Would she be devastated if she knew that his skull was probably cracked when I slammed his head on the table repeatedly? Would it break her heart to know that we set him on fire and stood around to watch his body burn?

I can't hurt Thora. She needs me and I did this to her. I can't handle knowing that.

I don't know how I make it home, but when I look up, I'm already barefoot and climbing the stairs. 

I feel sick, shaky... confused. I don't know what to do. The only thing I can do is open Ivar's door and close it quietly behind me. He's taking a nap, but he must have heard me come in because his head rises from his pillow right before he pulls back his covers. 

My movements are slow, but I manage to make it to his bed and tuck myself in close to him. "Erlendur. His fucking name was Erlendur." My voice cracks while I try to catch my breath. "He was real, Ivar. He had a name and a life and friends, and…"

"Shhhh, baby.  It's alright." His voice is a gentle whisper and his safe arms wrap protectively around me. He lovingly rubs my back while rocking me softly, "I'm here, Serk."

Nodding my head against his chest, I feel the tears slip from my eyes. "Make it better." This is where I need to be. “Hold me tight.”  I just need to be in his arms and let him protect me as only he can. "Promise me you won’t let me go."

His warm lips kiss the tears falling from the corner of my eye before he presses them to my forehead, “Never,” I feel him whisper against my skin.  

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter 

Tag list:  Let me know if you wish to be added/removed from tags:

@youbloodymadgenius​ @idea-garden​ @kol--mikaelson​ @mooniemouse​

@didiintheblog @tempt-ress @waiting4inspiration  @where-beauty-goes-to-die @crazyaboutmotleycrue @oddsnendsfanfics @geekandbooknerd

[inactiive-shit]

Just... stay for the night

Thank you! I know this prompt was from an angst starters list, and I tried to aim for that, but this came out more hurt/comfort. I hope you like it, regardless.

Title: Snake-umentary

Pairing: Romantic Anxceit

Words: 1,472

Warnings: panic attack, dissociation, car crash mention

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil has spent the day running around like a headless chicken. First his fire alarm woke him at four in the morning. There was no fire, but after starting his day with a panic attack, he couldn’t get back to sleep. So then he went to work on some of his commissions and accidentally deleted them, so he had to message the recipients to ask what they wanted him to draw, which was more interaction than Virgil wanted before noon. And he’d realized the only thing he had in the fridge was grapes when he tried to make breakfast. Which meant Virgil also had to go to the grocery store, and then he also bought art supplies because he was already out, but that included a drawn out conversation with a chipper check-out clerk that accidentally misgendered him before bombarding him with questions about what kind of art he liked to do.

By the time he finally got home, he was exhausted and the ice cream he bought had melted and all Virgil really wanted to do was lie down for a nap. But of course his stupid brain betrayed him again and wouldn’t even let him have that.

And as if all that wasn’t bad enough, his friend got in a crash. He’s fine, just a few bruises and a fucked up car, but there was enough of an interim between news of the crash and the outcome that Virgil had worked himself into another panic attack, as though that could have possibly aided the situation at all.

So, yeah, it’s eleven o’clock at night Virgil is functioning on about two hours of sleep—though that was a generous estimate—and not nearly as much food as he should’ve eaten. He feels sick and tired and just wants to sleep but he keeps getting jittery and pacing around his apartment and resisting the urge to call Roman and make sure he’s okay because that would just be annoying, he already talked to Roman and he knows he’s fine.

Maybe he should call again. Just to be sure.

His fingers hover over the buttons, debating the merits of calling. He could text, of course, and then Roman could respond whenever he felt like it and it wouldn’t have to be such a thing like this, but if he asked how Roman was doing and Roman didn’t respond for a while, that could very well induce another panic attack because he could be hurt and Virgil wouldn’t know, oh shit-

There’s a knock on the door, yanking Virgil out of his spiral as effectively as if someone had slapped him. He’d a friend do that, once, actually, because he didn’t know how to help and panicked, and it had stopped all of Virgil’s thought processes in their tracks as he tried to figure out what the fuck had happened in the real world and why was his face stinging.

Another knock on the door lets Virgil know that he still hasn’t opened it yet, so he drags himself across the room and opens the door, half-hoping and half-expecting that Roman will be standing there, in all his bruised-but-okay glory, and tell Virgil he could hear him worrying from across town.

Instead, it’s the last person Virgil was expecting.

“Oh,” he says, “hey.”

“Don’t sound too excited,” Dee says, rolling his eyes. He’s wearing his fingerless yellow gloves and his snake contact and the leather jacket that most people never saw him without, baggy jeans and doc martens. There’s a bag of food from a local chinese restaurant in his hand.

“I totally fuckin’ spaced,” Virgil says, remembering that he was supposed to be having an eat-in date with his boyfriend tonight. “I’m a shitty person.”

“Forgot about me?” Dee says, bumping into the apartment and shutting the door behind him. “How rude.” He keeps talking, but Virgil’s too focused on Everything and Nothing like they’re concrete objects and not the most overwhelming intangible thing Virgil has ever had to deal with.

Is he panicking again? He’s too tired for this shit.

He comes back to reality who knows how long later. He’s sitting on the couch, somehow, Dee pressed into his side. The food is sitting on the floor in front of him and there’s some show he’s never seen before playing on t.v. He starts picking at his nail out of habit, confused. More than halfway to scared but unwilling to admit it.

“Back?” Dee asks quietly, lifting his head up to look into Virgil’s face.

“Uh,” Virgil says, “yeah. How long…”

“It’s almost twelve,” Dee says. “So, little less than an hour.”

“Shit,” Virgil says. “I’m sorry. Fuck.”

“Woah.” Dee pulls himself up so he’s sitting, facing Virgil. “There’s not a need for all that. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Virgil says, but the words sound like they’re teeth being pulled out with pliers or the rattle of a snake right before it bites. Virgil knows immediately that this won’t pass.

“Try again,” Dee says flatly. Despite his tone, his eyebrows are creased slightly and his lips are pursed. He has a hand on one of Virgil’s, just enough to ground him in the moment instead of launching off into whatever brain-fuck he gets stuck in like that.

“Uhm, it’s just been a lot. Today.” He hesitates, but Dee’s eyes stay right on him, ready to listen to whatever Virgil has to say, so he spills every detail of his day, from the big stuff (the crash, being misgendered) to the little stuff (the shitty song that got stuck in his head, the person with aggressively bubblegum pink pigtails), and once he’s finally done, he feels better.

“That’s shit,” Dee says. He kisses Virgil’s cheek and then picks up a cold container of rice. “It sucks that your day went like that. The only remotely remarkable thing that happened to me today was someone coming in and asking for a tattoo of Where’s Waldo with his dick out.” He passes the rice to Virgil. “Also, your friends aren’t going to be mad that you’re worried about them. They aren’t going to be pissed if you call to make sure they’re okay, especially after some shit like a crash.”

“But what if they are,” Virgil says, eating a little rice.

“Then I will kick their ass and you won’t have anything to worry about either way.” Dee grins, his sharp smile with his abnormally sharp canines that always puts people on edge. It makes Virgil’s heart melt.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. “You could have eaten without me, you know.”

“No. I came over to relax with my boyfriend, not eat food alone while wondering who I needed to kill. We will eat together.” Dee taps his cardboard container into Virgil’s. “Though, it is getting pretty late. I’m gonna have to get out of here soon.”

“Stay,” Virgil blurts before he can think better of it. Dee raises an eyebrow at Virgil, and he refuses to look down. “Just…stay for tonight. Please.”

“Patton always comes over on Friday mornings for breakfast. As in, tomorrow. Your friends,” Dee starts, but they’ve had this conversation enough times and all Virgil really wants at this moment is to have his boyfriend with him and not going anywhere.

“Fuck it,” Virgil says, voice heated, cutting Dee off. Dee stops, doing a bad job of hiding his shock. “Fuck it,” he repeats. “Listen, they have misconceptions about you and our friendship was new enough that I didn’t want to do anything to fuck it up. But-but you are my boyfriend, so if they want me, they’re damn well going to have to get over it.” Virgil sighs quietly, losing steam. He’s too tired to make an impassioned speech about loyalties and relationships like he wants to. “I know you have work in the morning. If you can’t, I get it. It’s fine.”

“No,” Dee says. “If you want me to stay, I’m not going to move my ass off this couch. I just want you to be sure, because if I’m still here when he gets here, there’s no taking this back.” He holds Virgil’s face in his hands, gentle and loving.

“I’m sure. Promise. There’s not any part of this I want to take back.” He leans in and Dee meets him for a kiss. It tastes like soy sauce. “I’m going to text Patton, let him know I have a plus one.” Virgil pulls out his phone and shoots off a text, not expecting a response two minutes later that reads, Samesies! Can’t wait, kiddo!

Virgil decides not to dwell on what that could mean.

“Your eyes are barely open,” Dee breathes, relaxing into Virgil’s chest. “Let my snake-umentary take you to dreamland. I’ll meet you there.” Virgil smiles even though Dee can’t see it, dopey with feeling this much and finally feeling safe enough to sleep.

[staycatcher]

Anguish 001- Anguish

“Out  of  genuine  free  will,  I,  Lee  Minho,  exercise  the  divine  right  to  reject  my  sacredly  designed  soulmate.”

Member: Lee  Minho / Lee  Know  x  Femme  Reader  (she / her)

Au: Frat Boi! Minho  +  Rejected  Soulmate  AU

Genre: Angst  (some  comedy?,,  this  series  is  gonna  be  angsty  because  of  the  whole  ‘rejected  soulmate’  thing)

Rated  T  for  a  whole  lotta  swearing,  a  frat  party,  crowds,  usage  of  alcohol  and  mentions  of  drugs,  intensity,  reader  is  a  bit  socially  anxious (please  lmk  if  any  other  warnings  are  needed!💞🥺)

Word Count:  4k  &  manually  double  spaced  between  words  &  paragraphs  for  ease  of  reading!!!!🥵🤠🥰

Note: this is dedicated to @trixareforlix, they’re the first-ever friend I made on here and they’re the one who sparked this frat au idea!! Ilysm always angel!!<33

Edited: 201015 (Original: 190813 )

Anguish series 1/?-  ~001~, 002

The  anticipated  day  where  you’d  become  magnetized,  the  world  around  you  becoming  a  blur,  your  heart  falling  into  perfect  sync  with  the  one  destined  for  you  truly… was  not  like  that  at  all,  actually!  No,  the  stars  were  cruel  to you,  perhaps  you  did  something  awful  in  your  past  life  to   deserve  this,  but  maybe  what  is  more  likely  is  that  your  soulmate’s  just  an  asshole.  After  all,  one’s  soulmate  was  the  complete  opposite  of  one’s  self.  Soulmates  were  the  yin  to  one’s  yang  and  vice  versa  and  all  that.  To  keep  one  balanced,  or  whatever. 

Now,  you  aren’t  the  angel  everyone  may  claim  you  to  be.  You  weren’t  angelic,  not  at  all.  Eating  ice  cream  for  breakfast  was  not  above  you.  Your  nail  polish  was  perpetually  chipped.  You  couldn’t  stand  to  keep  your  hair  in  the  same  style  for  too  long;  chopping  it  all  off  or  seeing  how  long  it  could  grow,  dying  it  as  bright  as  you  could,  and  everything  in  between.  You  adorned  yourself  with  two  or  three  more  piercings  than  your  parents  could  get  behind,  bless  them,  you’re  beginning  to  have  trouble  hiding  your  new  tattoo.  Habitually,  you  were  sensitive,  soft,  a  bit  emotional,  and  tended  to  be  a  bit  of  a  smartass.  You  weren’t  blessed  with  physical  grace,  ceaselessly  tripping  over  yourself,  spilling  and  knocking  over  anything  in  your  path,  and  dancing  out  of  beat  to  blasted  songs. 

More  often  than  not,  you  would  go  to  bed  later  than  planned.  Tonight  was  one  of  those  nights,  but  it  was  not  because  of  your  natural  preference.  You  were  not  too  figuratively  dragged  into  this  by  someone  who  held  the  title  of  your  best  friend,  someone  whom  you  were  currently  thinking  of  ways  of  revoking  that  title  from. 

  “C’mon,  dummy!  We’re  almost  there!”  Jamie  elbowed  you,  her  eyes  crinkled  in  laughter,  whacking  you  on  the  back  a  bit  too  hard. 

 “Jamie,  I  must’ve  forgotten,  but  why’re  you  even  dragging me  to  this  frat  party  again?  Why  not  just  go  to  your  sorority  instead?”  You  groaned,  your  two  left  feet  were  dragging  behind  you  on  the  aged  sidewalk,  your  fake  Doc  Martens  feeling  like  cinder  blocks. 

“‘Cause  Chris  invited  me  and  he’s  being  a  little  bitch  about  it  because  I  keep  canceling  on  ‘im!  He  keeps  saying  that  my  soulmate  might  be  there!”  She  reminded  you  for  the  umpteenth  time,  rolling  her  head  and  eyes  back  in  frustration,  sighing  before  continuing.  “And  now  it’s  like-  I  might  as  well  try  and  see!  I  mean,  come  on!~  I’m  starting  to  think  he’s  right!”  And  for  the  umpteenth  time  today,  you  question  why  she’s  falling  for  this.  She’s  sharper  than  this.  But  for  some  reason,  just  this  once,  she  found  a way  to  shoehorn  Chris’s  dumbassery  to  logic. 

 In  reality,  you  could  meet  your  soulmate  at  any  time  or  place,  so  to  say  that  one's  soulmate  might  be  there  is  like  saying  it  might  rain.  Sure,  it  might.  But  it  also  can  rain  in  any  season  so  you  can’t  be  wrong  with  saying  that  it  might.  It  doesn’t  always  rain  every  day,  all  the  time,  so  it  also  isn’t  that  likely.  Rain  depends  on  a  lot  more  factors.  But  right  now,  you’re  a  little  buzzed,  so  it  sounded  pretty  sound. 

 “So  he  knows  your  soulmate?” 

 “I’d  hope  so!  If  not,  I’d  rip  his  bleached  hay-hair  right  out  of  his  thick  skull!”  Now,  this  is  the  Jamie  you  knew  and  loved,  you  couldn't  help  the  endeared  smile  on  your  face.  “When  we  could’ve  been  eating  takeout  and  watching  a  musical-“

 “So  which  frat  are  we  going  to  again?”  You  had  to  interrupt  her  for  her  sake.  Takeout  and  a  movie  would  always  remain  superior  to  parties  in  your  mind  and  you  already  didn’t  want  to  be  accompanying  her  to  a  frat  house. 

 “Hmm…  It’s  like-  uh...  Signal  kite  zing-  wait  no-  hold  on-“

You  guys  must  be  tipsier  from  the  pregaming  than  you  thought.  “Sigma?  ‘Signal’  isn’t  greek,  I  think  you  mean  sigma!  And  ‘kite’  isn-”

 “Right,  whatever!  Anyways,  the  abbreviation  is  SKZ-“

 “Ohhh!  We’re  friends  with  some  of  them-  We’re  like  best  friends  with  Chris!!  Why  didn’t  you  say  it  was  Chris’s  frat  in  the  first  place?”  Your  laugh  projecting  out  of  you  unattractively  with  claps  and  swings  of  limbs  which  led  to  slapping  a  little  too  hard  at  Jamie's  shoulder.  This  clarification  did  make  you  feel  a  bit  better.  This  wasn’t  a  shitty  fraternity  you  didn’t  know,  this  was  a  shitty  fraternity  you  inevitably  tolerated  since  you  knew  and  even  approved  of  some  of  its  members! 

 SKZ  was  home  to  a  hodgepodge  of  eight  brothers  who  were  pretty  individual  as  far  as  frat  dudes  go.  Some  of  which  you  were  genuinely  fond  of,  like  Chris,  or  simply  acquainted  with,  like  Jisung,  whom  you  shared  a major  and  program  with.  Others,  you  couldn’t  even  remember  the  names  of  or  who  they  are  in  general.  It’s  also  the  smallest  frat  on  campus,  so  they  try  to  get  as  many  people  to  come  to  events  as  possible,  which  is  honestly  exhausting  as  a  concept  to  your  introverted  self.  Thus,  you’ve  never  actually  attended  one  of  theirs  until  now,  now  that  Jamie  is  dragging  you  along  with  her.

 “Ow!  I  don’t  know!~  I  thought  you  were  smart  enough  to  figure  it  out  when  I  mentioned  Chris!”  She  teased,  making  the  two  of  you  laugh  harder,  you  couldn’t  defend  yourself  on  that  one.  The  two  of  you  just  continued  your  idiotic  banter  the  rest  of  the  way  to  the  Sigma  Kappa  Zeta  house  aka  the  SKZ  frat.  

 The  walk  to  SKZ’s  lair  was  a  bit  much,  more  than  you  and  Jamie  bargained  for.  You  were  so  kindly  carrying  her  platforms  for  her  until  she’ll  put  them  back  on  again,  only  for  you  to  probably  end  up  kindly  carrying  them  again  later  tonight.  The  cool  breeze  of  the  September  night  helped  with  the  humidity  and  sweat,  and  the  sun  beautifully  set,  leaving  a  delicate  lilac  color  in  its  wake  which  was  becoming  darker  and  darker  the  further  you  walked.  The  hazy  streetlights  added  to  the  whimsy  atmosphere,  yet  to  be  ruined  with  the  sound  of  an  intolerable  amount  of  bass  and  the  overbearing  smell  of  beer  and  weed  when  the two  of  you  arrived  on  site.  

 “Okay,  I’m  pretty  sure  it’s  this  house!”  Jamie  halted  her  steps,  turning  towards  you,  her  hair  swaying  along  with  the  belled  sleeves  of  her  mesh  turtleneck  she  had  under  her  dress.  The  two  of  you  really  dolled  yourselves  up  for  the  night,  her  hair  was  perfect,  your  hair  was  perfect,  outside  was  perfect,  and  it  brought  you  sobering  back  to  the  not-so-perfect  earth.  The  idea  of  going  inside  a  suffocating,  putrid  house  majorly  crowded  with  drunk  and  hormonal  peers...  was  not  appealing  to  you  in  the  least.   

 “Yup,  and  now  it’s  time  to  turn  back  around!”  You  quipped,  ensnaring  her  arm  with  your  empty  one,  about  to  steer  the  two  of  you  in  a  three-point-turn.  This  was  your  final  chance  at  getting  out  of  your  predicament,  and  now  that  you’re  here  you  regret  playing  along.  Sadly,  Jamie  was  just  as  stubborn  as  you,  and  your  turn  around  was  met  with  a  roadblock. 

 “Oh  my  god,  Y/n,  you’re  joking!  We  walked  the  whole  ass  way  here!”  She  got  out  in  between  puffs  of  airy  frustration,  her  socked  heels  digging  into  the  ground  as  you  attempted,  gracelessly,  to  steer  the  two  of  you  around.    

 “Okay,  okay,  fine.  We  did  come  all  this  way  and  now  our  drinks’ve  worn  off.”  You  acknowledged  with  an  irritated  huff.  “Okay-  how  about  we  go  in  and  get  some  drinks,  and  then  we’ll  leave?!”  Your  pitch  going  up  with  each  word  of  your  attempt  to  negotiate  before  forcing  out  a  chuckle,  your  laugh  did  its  best  to  hide  the  fact  that  your  body  was  beginning  to  stick  with  sweat  and  anxiety. 

“No,  ‘and  then’  we’ll  find  Chris  to  hook  me  up!”  She  playfully  fought  back  but  it  was  hard  to  take  her  seriously,  or  yourself,  with  how  the  two  of  you  were  laughing,  hers  genuine,  yours  not  so  much.  

 “Jesus  Christ,  you  really  are  set  on  this  ‘finding  your  soulmate’  thing.”  You  breathed.  As  much  as  you  hated  social  gatherings,  you  loved  your  best  friend  much,  much  more,  therefore  you  were  willing  to  be  won  over  in  the  name  of  friendship.  Though,  she  would  owe  you  for  this!  Fortunately  for  her,  food  and  drink  is  fair  trade  in  you  and  your  wallet’s  eyes. 

 “I’m  lonely,  okay!  I’d  prefer  winning  the  lottery  but  this  is  the  next  best  thing!”  Jamie,  as  per  usual,  brought  the  two  you  back  right  to  laughter  instantly.  She  had  her  mind  made  up.  Plus,  with  you  giggling  it  made  it  all  the  easier  for  her  to  haul  the  both  of  you  right  up  the  steps  of  the  SKZ  Frat  House  stairs.   

Once  in,  Jamie  stuck  close  to  your  side,  literally,  but  not  that  she  had  the  natural  choice  or  much  of  an  alternative;  this  place  was  packed  to   the  gills!  Jumping  up  on  her  now  platform  clad  feet,  looking  for  anyone  she  recognized  or  any  signs  of  Chris,  while  you  led  the  two  of  you,  hopefully,  to  a  kitchen.  You  were  practically  kicking  yourself  each  step  of  the  way  as  you  shoved  your  way  through  the  crowd.  The  air  was  stuffy  and  possibly  even  toxic,  to  say  the  least.  The  scent  is  much  more  foul  than  last  you  remember,  pungent  with  alcohol,  sweat,  cigarettes,  weed,  hints  of  puke,  and  dashes  of  all  sorts  of  pheromones.  Despite  the  few  times  you’ve  smelled  this  scent,  it  never  failed  to  make  you  wish  you  didn’t  leave  your  safe,  sanitary  bed.   

 There’s  jabbing  elbows  and  flailing  parts  of  strangers  everywhere  that  had  to  be  watched  out  and  dodged  for,  sloshing  cups,  sometimes  drunken  flirtatious  hands  grabbing  at  you,  not  at  all  fazed  by  the  pretty  companion  you  had  your  elbow  linked  with.  The  sway  of  the  hoards  of  people  was  beginning  to  get  you  motion  sick,  but  you  were  determined  to  keep  wading  through,  trying  to  hike  through  this  high  tide,  but  you  couldn’t  help  but  feel  vulnerable.  You  were  cursed  with  a  soft,  approachable  face  that  just  begged  to  be  messed  with.  Even  in  times  like  these,  where  your  thoughts  are  nothing  short  of  bitchy,  the  message  would  never  get  across  with  a  resting  bitch  face.  Your  love  for  dark  attire  didn’t  matter.  Your  baby  face  and  aura  won  every  match.  Not  even  the  eyeliner  and  dark  lipstick  you  preferred  could  save  you.  All  you  could  do  is  hope  that  your  best  friend’s  intimidation  and  delightfully  loud  presence  was  enough  for  the  two  of  you  as  you  keep  planting  one  foot  after  the  other.  

“Fucking  hell!”  You  barely  gasped  out,  finally  freed  out  of  the  main  room,  and  now  into  the  hallway.  The  seasick  claustrophobia  no  longer  had  its  poisonous  grips  on  your  soft,  easy  to  bruise  skin,  though,  you  did  need  to  catch  your  breath.  

 “Finally!”  Jamie  sighed  loudly  and  melodically,  patting  you  on  the  back  and  easily  recovering.  Before  she  headed  straight  into  the kitchen  to  scope  out  the  place,  possibly  for  anyone  she  knew  and,  perhaps,  her   Special  Someone.  

 “So  did  ya  see  anyone  you  knew,  Jame?”  You  called  after  her  upon  entering  what  appeared  to  be  a  stereotypical  scene  of  the  kitchen  during  a  college  party.  Cliche  red  solo  cups  scattered  everywhere,  filled  at  varying  degrees.  A  beer  keg  or  two,  some  cheap  bottles  of  vodka  splayed  about,  remnants  of  ash  from  blunts,  a  couple  or  two  aggressively  making  out  against  the  wall,  and  four  or  five  random  stragglers  fidgeting  with  their  phone or  talking  overly  loudly  to  each  other.  You  know,  the  usual.  

“Ughh,  no”  She  answered  reluctantly.  “They  have  to  be  somewhere  else,  maybe,  like  upstairs  or  downstairs,  right?!”  

Before  you  could  reply,  behind  you,  you  heard  an  enthusiastic  “Jamie!!”  then  a  muffled,  “you  finally  made  it!!”  The  familiar  voice  had  you  jerking  your  head  to  see  if  your  ears  were  failing  you,  evidently,  they  weren’t.  Right  away  you  see  Chris  tackling  Jamie  in  a  hug  before  he  met  your  eyes  with  his  comically  wide  ones.  

“Aaaahhh!!  Y/n’s  here  too?!”

 “Yeah!  Don’t  we  look  cute?”  Jamie  fluffed  up  her  cropped,  newly  dyed  hair  you  helped  her  do,  yours  also  in  a  similar  state.   

“Yeah,  but  Y/n  looks  better.”  He  teased,  giggling  and  slapping  her  in  the  arm;  unsurprising,  as  it’s  their  usual  fashion.   

“Oh  my  god!  Why  did  I  come  here?!  Okay,  we’ll  leave  then,  Chris.”  Jamie  joked  right  back  at  him,  snatching  at  your  hand  like  it  was  a  prize  to  be  won  and  taking  you  away  with  her.  Unfortunately  for  you,  this  was  just  a  well-meaning  joke,  you  weren’t  going  to  be  set  free  from  a  party  anytime  soon.   

 “Nooo!  Don’t  go!!”  He  dramatized,  grabbing  onto  at  Jamie,  halting  her  from  leaving  with  you  in  tow.  Giggling  so  hard,  he  had  to  throw  his  head  back  to  project  it  all.  You  snorted  a  “thank  you”  a  bit  late,  too  busy  laughing.  He  just  gave  you  a  brotherly  slap  on  the  arm,  on  his  way  to  leave  before  Jamie  stopped  him.  

“Wait!  What  about  my  soulmate?  You  said  they'd  be  here,  remember!”  

“Oh?”  Chris’s  eyebrows  scrunched  in  confusion,  Jamie  nodded  with  stern  wide  eyes  which  seemed  to  spark  back  his  doubtful  memory,  “Ahhh…  downstairs…  maybe…  I  think-  hangin’  out!  There’s  a  game  about  to  start-  Oh,  yeah!  That’s  why  I’m  here-”  he  giggled  to  himself,  “to  get  this!”  He  then  snatched  a  full  bottle  of  vodka  from  a  sneaky  cabinet  you  didn’t  know  about  before  ushering  you  guys  along  to  follow  him.  Honestly,  Chris  didn’t  make  it  sound  too  promising  that  Jamie’s  soulmate  could  be  down  there,  but  it’s  the  best  lead  you  got.   

Shyly,  you  followed  behind  the  two  as  he  led  the  way  to  the  basement.  With  Chris  as  your  guide,  it  was  relatively  smooth  sailing,  the  crowd  parting  minimally  to  make  way  for  the  president  of  the  frat.  Before  you  know  it,  you’re  walking  down  some  nasty  ass  carpeted  stairs,  forcing  your  eyes  from  questionable  stains  to  look  for  a  rail  instead  to  hold  onto.  Strangely  enough,  walking  down  the  steps  was  comforting  somehow,  the  feeling  as  if  it  were  inviting  you  in.  Like  it  assigned  you  a  duty  instead  of  the  alienating  fish  out  of  water  experience  you  had  earlier  on  the  main  floor.   

 “I  picked  up  some  stragglers!”  Chris  cheered  as  he  turned  into  the  room.   

 “Yeah,  but  did  you  bring  the  alcohol?”  A  brazen  voice  you’ve  never  heard  before  shot  straight  through  you.  You  could  feel  it  run  through  you  with  tingles  down  your  spine  and  goosebumps  up  your  arms.   

“Hell  yeah  I  did,  ya  jackass!”  

 When  the  two  of  you  turned  the  corner,  the  world  slowed  down  and  your  muscles  instantly  seized  up,  halting  you  into  place  without  consent.  Your  insides  clench  tight,  wrapping  itself  into  a  knot.  Suddenly  you  were  sweating,  but  in  contrast,  your  vision  looked  as  though  you  were  looking  through  a  nice  refreshing  glass  of  pink  lemonade.  Normally  steady  hands  were  now  shaky,  your  ears  and  cheeks  beginning  to  glow  beet  red.  You  could  feel  yourself  beginning  to  sweat  at  the  nape  of  your  neck  and  underarms;  all  this  from  the  sudden  voice  of  the  stranger!  -What?  What’s  going  on?!-    

 Immediately,  your  gaze  pans  around  the  room  before  they  landed  on  the  source,  long-lashed  eyes  holding  a  dark  chocolate  glaze  and  shivering  you  to  the  bone.  Like  a  hooked  fish,  you  couldn’t  look  away.  The  initial  astonishment  of  just  the  sensations  couldn‘t  compare  to  exploring  the  face  in  front  of  you.  

 Chiseled  cheeks,  and  angular  brows.  Pouty  naturally  downturned  lips  were  discovered  underneath  an  impossibly  perfect,  pointy  nose.  Everything  about  him  was  like  the  artwork,  his  slightly  covered  forehead  was  somehow  artistic  as  if  even  the  space  between  the  brow  and  the  hairline  was  something  new  that  your  narrow  mind  could  never  possibly  understand.  His  hairline  soon  revealed  a  head  of  luscious  black  hair,  unrealistically  voluminous,  shiny  and  soft.  Honestly,  his  hair  was  screaming  at  you  to  test  out  if  it  could  be  possible,  that  someone  who  looked  like  this  was  real.  His  entire  face  and  head  on  his  shoulders  didn’t  make  conceivable  sense.  Maybe  it’s  just  you,  but  a  person  this  perfect  couldn’t  exist  and  you  have  yet  to  venture  south  to  see  how  perfect  the  rest  of  him  could  possibly  be.    

 “Y/n?  Are- are  you  okay?”  

 You  vaguely  felt  or  heard  your  best  friend  at  your  side,  but  it  wasn’t  decipherable.  Everything  but  this  guy  in  front  of  you  was  fuzzy,  blurry  to  you.  All  the  energy  in  your  being  focused  on  this  human  in  front  of  you.  His  silky,  messily  parted  locks,  begging  for  you  to  test  if  it  was  as  soft  as  it  looked.  His  sharp  features.  His  lips  a  natural  coral-y  color  that  began  to  shine  and  glimmer  with  saliva  as  his  glossy  tongue  began  to  trail  along  those  chapped  lips.  You  shot  your  eyes  back  to  his,  reeling  you  back  in  like  the  prey  you  began  to  feel.  Oh,  sweet,  sweet  baby  Jesus,  is  this  really  happening?!

 “I-“  both  of  you  started  at  the  same  time.  Embarrassingly  enough,  it  seems  as  though  the  blurry  figures  of  everyone  else  in  the  corner  of  your  eyes  caught  on  to  something  the  two  of  you  were  oblivious  to.  Everyone  started  jumping  and  screaming,  whooping  chaotically,  and  taking  over  your  vision.  The  slow  world  disappeared  in  a  blink,  launching  you  right  back  to  its  now  rapid,  woozy  speed.  With  everyone  pushing  and  shoving  around  you  in  excitement  it  was  not  at  all  helping  with  your  wibbly-wobbly  state.  

Suddenly,  you  felt  many  different  arms  coming  at  you,  wrapping  around  you,  constricting  you,  and  jumping  around  with  you  in  their  arms  in  excitement.  There was  a  deafening  amount  of  rambunctious  hooting  and  hollering  it  was  almost  as  if  the  team  they  were  rooting  for  won  the  SuperBowl.  

 “And  here  I  thought  Y/n  was  Jamie’s  soulmate!”  Chris  guffawed  and  they  all  joined  in,  all  besides  you  and  this  guy- WAIT-  did  Chris  say-  say  ‘soulmate’??  No,  he  couldn’t  have!  

 “Soulmate?”  Equally,  as  soon  as  you  internally  questioned  the  word  choice,  you  heard  his  earth-shattering  voice  speak  again,  despite  the  fact  he  merely  whispered,  softly  wondering  aloud.  He  spoke  aloud  what  you  were  thinking,  right  when  you  thought  it!   

 You  couldn’t  get  enough  of  his  voice,  especially  now  when  you  can’t  see  him  in  the  crowd.  His  voice  was  light,  honey-colored,  dreamy,  just  the  perfect  amount  of  deep,  it  made  you  want  to  taste  his  lips  to  see  if  he’s  as  sweet  as  he  sounded.  You,  yourself,  were  still  in  the  locked-in-place  state,  still  too  shell  shocked  to  even  make  a  step  forward,  your  poor  brain  overworking  itself  to  make  sense  of  any  of  this.   

 “Really?”  In  elated  shock  you  chirped,  slowly  giving  in  to  the  hugs  and  excited  jumping  with  wide  and  confused  eyes.  Is  this  for  real?  This  is  really  happening?!  

“Holy  fuck,  Y/n!”  Jamie  managed  to  get  you,  pulling  you  a  bit  too  crushingly  in  a  hug.  “I  can’t  believe  it!  You  found  your  soulmate  in  this  shitty  basement  and  not  me!”  She  playfully  teased,  there  was  no  ill  will  behind  it.   

 By  now  the  situation  was  beginning  to  sink  in  a  teeny  bit  and  you  were  shocked,  to  say  the  least.  Frankly,  you  were  starting  to  think  that  this  day  would  never  come.  You  had  a  soulmate  and  your  soulmate  looked  like  that!  You  were  over  the  moon,  even  if  you  felt  a  bit  guilty  that  you  found  your  soulmate  at  this  party  instead  of  Jamie.  It  was  the  plan  of this  whole  night,  after  all.  Now  that  it  was  you,  you  didn’t  know  how  to  react.  You  were  completely  and  utterly  unprepared.  

  “I’m  so  sorry,  Jamie.”  You  pulled  her  back  in  closer,  crushing  her  back  into  you,  eyes  watering,  lip  trembling.  “Oh  my  god,  I  think  I  might-  I  think  I  might  cry.”  You  hiccupped  into  her  chic  mesh  turtleneck  and  dress  combo.  This  is  too  much.  Too  too  much.   

 “Heyy!~  Don’t  feel  bad  for  me!  It’s  okay!”  Jamie  simply  chortled,  patting  your  head  deeper  into  her  chest,  her  usual  protocol  if  you  were  about  to  seriously  cry.  

Humiliatingly  enough,  you  heard  a  few  guys  begin  to  chant  “don’t  cry!”  in  the  background.  Your  small  moment  of  sincerity  and  calm  was  soon  interrupted  by  Chris.   

 “Well  isn’t  this  fun!  You  know  what  this  means!”~   

“Minho’s  soulmate’s  a  lil’  bitch?”  You  heard  Jisung,  the  kid  whom  you  shared  your  major  and  many  classes  with,  taunt.  His  words  forcing  you  forward,  ready  to  fight  the  kid.  He’s  a  child,  literally   a  child!  Why  do  I  associate  myself  with  him?!  I  swear  to  god-

 “Hey,  hey,  hey!  It  was  a  joke!”  He  squeaked  away  from  you.  He  was  too  speedy,  no  chance  for  you  and  your  heavy  ass  boots  stomping  after  him.  Safely,  he  skidded  behind  the  couch,  behind  whom  you’re  assuming  is  “Minho”,  which  had  your  boots  screeching  to  a  halt.  

Though  you  were  scrambling  after  Jisung,  your  eyes  naturally  met  Minho’s  as  you  halted.  Once  again,  your  body  is  preparing  to  either  fight  or  flight.  His  face  was  glowing  like  he  was  some  sort  of  ethereal  being,  wracked  up  in  deep,  attractive  concentration.  In  contrast,  your  face  was  beginning  to  burn  up  an  embarrassing  amount,  your  body  already  turning  into  inoperable  mush.  You  couldn’t  say  anything  if  you  tried.  Any  sentence  structure  your  brain  tried  to  form  didn’t  make  any  grammatical  or  logical  sense,  your  mind  racing  like  a  hamster  on  a  wheel.  Your  neural  pathways  were  glowing,  steaming  with  this  sudden  overstimulation,  leading  you  to  the  same  frazzling  answer  each  and  every  time: 

This  person  right  in  front  of  you?  Yeah,  that’s  your  soulmate. 

 A  hush  was  spread  throughout  the  previously  hype  basement,  all  eyes  immersed  in  the  two  of  you  speechlessly  enraptured  in  each  other.  The  longer  you  stood  there, the  more  you  could  take  him  in  and  get  used  to  him  and  the  idea  of  him.  You  were  warming  up  to  him,  he  became  more  and  more  real  with  each  millisecond.  You've  studied  his  eyes  so  passionately  now  that  could  see  his  dark  chocolatey  pupils  when  you  closed  your  eyes.  You  were  no  longer  overwhelmed  but  now  enchanted  by  his  features  and  general  presence.  His  cheekbones  are  no  longer  an  unfamiliar  art  piece.  His  aura  was  still  intimidating  as  before,  but  now  it  appeared   to  the  cheeky  kind  of  way  like  you  wanted  to  see  what  amount  of  scary  he  was  capable  of.  It  was  a  long,  jittery,  drawn-out  pause  before  anything  happened,  not  that  you  noticed.  

 “Out  of  genuine  free  will,”  You  just  smiled,  staring  at  his  naturally  downturned  lips.  Only  by  reading  his  lips  did  you  pay  attention  to  what  he  was  saying-  Wait,  what?

“I,  Lee-”  Hold on a second.  

“Minho-”  No.  

“Exercise  the  divine  right  to”  This  isn’t  happening  to  me.  This  isn’t- 

“Reject  my  sacredly  designed-” happening.  No.  No.  It  can’t  be.  It’s  not  p-   

“Soulmate.”  -ossible.  

The  electric,  exciting,  high  energy  pause  between  us  fell  and  wilted.  Died  just  like  that.  The  connected  red  strings  that  tied  Minho  and  yourself  were  chopped  off  on  his  own  accord,  bringing  icy  cold  into  the  room  in  its  wake.  A  harsh  blizzard  overwhelming  the  space.  Gasps  of  shocked  air  were  being  taken  in  from  everyone  in  this  basement,  everyone,  including  Lee  Minho.  

 You  got  a  gasp  of  bitter  cold  in  through  your  lungs  before  you  were  struck  like  lightning.  Lightning  of  feverish  torture  took  over  your  body,  struck  you  directly  in  the  heart  and  brain  before  it  flashed  through  your  veins  carrying  the  harsh  poison  of  rejection.  

   You  heard  a  pathetic  squawk  tear  its  way  out  of  your  chapped  lips,  the  anguish  forcing  you  down  to  your  knees  as  if  you  were  directly  stabbed  in  the  heart.  The  electric,  immediate  painful  reaction  faded,  bringing  boiling  throbs  through  all  your  cells,  not  leaving  one  out.  It  was  unlike  anything  you  could  describe,  no,  imagine.  It  was  as  if  the  blood  in  your  veins  was  replaced  with  boiling  water  and  your  heart  was  simultaneously  squeezed  and  electrocuted  in  the  grasps  of  electric  hands.  Maybe  it  was  the  hands  of  Satan  dragging  you  down  with  him.

Blurrily,  through  fresh,  hot  tears,  you  swear  you  could  see  Minho  physically  flinch  in  response,  immediately,  sprinting  out  of  the  room  as  if  he  was  escaping  from  a  house  on  fire. 

 That  was  the  last  you  saw  before  it  all  faded  to  black. 

[dirtyahs]

What Are We? (Tate Langdon x Reader)

HELLO IM BACK JESUS CHRIST IM SORRY IVE BEEN SO ABSENT LIFE IS KIND OF KICKING MY ASS BUT IM DOING MY BEST!! I LOVE ALL OF U FOR BEING SO KIND AND PATIENT <3

This was requested by my pal @stellaholland i luv u so much bby i hope u enjoy :,)

Word Count: 4,814

Warnings: unprotected sex, teasing (sexual and nonsexual), kinda fluffy at the end! (take that lightly, i dont write fluff well lmfao)

   You stood in front of your closet, continuously searching through the clothes as if something new was going to appear. You pulled a black skater dress off of the hanger and slipped it over your head, looking in your mirror, only half satisfied with the way it looked.    "You're just trying on the same dress in different colors, it's not that hard to pick one." You jumped when you heard a voice behind you, turning around to see none other than Tate. Your family had moved into the house about seven months ago. Both your mother and father were some kind of twisted horror fanatics, so they purchased the house knowing full well you'd be the owners of "Murder House." It was strange to get adjusted to at first, it's like living with ten other people, but only sometimes. Tate made himself visible the most out of everybody.    "How long have you been sitting there? Fuckin' creep." You scoffed, sitting on the edge of your bed to put on a pair of black boots.

"Long enough." He smirked at you, standing up to walk to your desk, flicking through your notebooks.    You saw Tate most often, but frankly, he was the last person you cared to see. He was obnoxious, arrogant, and overall just kind of a douche. You'd come home from school to see him laying in your bed listening to your music. Or you'd wake up in the middle of the night to things falling off of your bookshelf, furniture moving with no one being there. It was always him though. It's like he got off on just screwing with you; so he did. Quite often. Everybody else in the house was decent. Nora was sweet, she just cried a lot. Which was fair given her situation. Chad and Patrick were both okay individually, but when they were together, they were beyond irritating. Just so incredibly passive aggressive - you couldn't imagine being stuck in a house for eternity with someone you wanted to divorce.    You stood up, smoothing out your dress before grabbing your small bag and slinging it over your shoulder. Your parents had decided everyone was going to go out on a nice lunch today.    "Can you get out? I'm leaving." You pushed past him, opening your door and motioning him to walk out. 

"I can never get out, angel." He said, sounding just as conceited as ever, making his way to the door, leaning against the wooden frame. "But I guess I can leave you to your little lunch date with mommy and daddy." He teased you condescendingly. You'd done your best to not let him bother you, but he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

"Thanks for being so kind, Tate." You gave him the sweetest smile you could manage, slamming your bedroom door when the two of you had exited. 

ii.    You'd finally gotten home a few hours later. Your parents were very good at starting conversation with every server you'd ever had. They get talking, and then the server gets talking and it seems to last forever. They do always get some kind of discount or something free for being kind though. Your mom had been a server for a decent part of her life, so she was always extra nice to them.        Telling them you had homework to work on, you made your way upstairs to your room, hearing music coming from behind the door. Just as you suspected, Tate was sprawled out on your bed, hands behind his head, eyes closed. You sighed and walked over to your bed, smacking Tate's side.

   "Can you get the fuck out? I have homework to do." You hissed. You definitely weren't going to do homework though. You'd probably end up reading, or watching YouTube or something - but Tate didn't need to know that part. His eyes opened slowly, and you felt like you couldn't look away. He looked angelic (ironically.) His blond curls spread messily around his head, face peaceful, and most importantly, he wasn't talking, which made him look amazing. Without a word, he moved over to one side of the bed, making room for you on the other.

    "Tate, I mean it, get out. I've got shit to do." You tried to sound strong - however, you weren't very threatening.

"Whatever you've got to do, just do it quietly." He mumbled, eyes closing once again. Looks like you weren't going to be getting him out of your room. With that, you grabbed the book you've been reading and took a seat at your desk chair, kicking your boots off and putting your feet up on the desk. Your dress fell just a bit to reveal part of your upper thigh. Within minutes, you heard quiet snoring coming from the boy in your bed, blankets pulled up to his chin now. How he managed to make himself so comfortable in your room remained a mystery. It was his room first, technically though. You looked up from your book to see him snuggled tightly under the dark purple duvet, lips parted just slightly. 

You couldn't take your eyes off of him - he looked so  peaceful and quite beautiful honestly.     No - what the fuck are you thinking? You thought to yourself. You don't like Tate - you haven't since the day you moved into this house. He was rude and condescending and way too overly confident. He might be nice to look at, but that's all he had going for him. You had to shut those thoughts down immediately. You shook your head and picked your book up again, returning to the chapter you were reading. iii.    "Why are you going to school? Wouldn't you rather stay here with me?" Tate teased, leaning against your door frame, blocking you from leaving. He'd been there since you woke up, but he wasn't going to tell you that part. He'd watched you strip out of your pajamas and slide into your hip hugging denim jeans. He enjoyed seeing you - there was something so erotic to him about just watching you go about your normal routine. Not only was it erotic for him, he just liked to watch you. He was fascinated with the way you'd wing your eyeliner, or paint your lips your favorite pink nude. He liked seeing the way you'd quietly sing to yourself in the morning. Most people that moved into that house were terrified of him and everyone else there. You and your family were so different for him. Tate hadn't felt accepted probably ever in his life. Being accepted, and even admired was such a new feeling for him.     

"No, Tate I wouldn't. I need to go to class today." You huffed, slinging your bag over your shoulder and crossing your arms. He had that stupid smirk stuck to his face. Today, it was hard to tell him no. He did this every few days, and you always pushed past him without a second thought. Today, you kind of wanted to stay home with him. But you couldn't. You'd always done well in school, and it was something you took pride in. So you did what you always did and pushed past him, looking over your shoulder to see him watching you walk away. 

"Your ass looks cute in those jeans!" He called, blowing you a kiss oh-so sweetly. Your heart jumped a bit with his words.    You sat in the cold blue plastic chair, resting your head in the palm of your hand as your English professor babbled on about the assigned reading. The assigned reading that Tate wouldn't let you finish. You were sat in your bed, legs crossed at your ankle trying to finish the chapter. You looked up to see none other than your blond haired nuisance. He was wearing torn up black jeans and Doc Martens. You had the same pair. He crawled over the iron swirls of your bed frame, and laid next to you - uninvited. He tried to talk to you about whatever he could - about your book, about your boots, about himself, about how good he thought you looked in a denim mini skirt. His flirting was always sarcastic. At least it seemed that way. No matter how sarcastic he was though, somehow his words always made your heart flutter. No matter how much you tried to suppress it.    "(Y/N)? Can you tell me what happened to our main character in chapter 7?" Your teacher had her arms crossed over her chest, pulling you from your little fantasy - you just zoned out in class thinking about Tate fucking Langdon? Really?   

"I-well Mrs. Sanchez..." You stammered, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth, cheeks turned an almost electric red. How the hell did you get so carried off thinking about a boy you thought you couldn't stand? 

 "Please pay attention, all of this is important." She said, clearly unhappy with you. You were one of her favorite students, but she had almost ridiculously high expectations of you. Oh well, you thought, she'd forget about it tomorrow.    You closed your front door behind you. It was about 3 o'clock. Your mom and dad would be at work for another couple of hours. But you were sure you'd walk upstairs to find Tate curled up in your bed for his afternoon nap, just like you found him there every day. He was a bit predictable sometimes. You trudged up the stairs, desperately needing some alone time. You'd found yourself day dreaming about Tate more than once. You'd see something that reminded you of him, and you'd feel your heart jump in your chest. You'd thought about the little freckle on his nose, and the way he'd touch all his fingers to his thumb when he got a little nervous. You'd thought about the one time you walked into the bathroom to see him shirtless standing looking in the mirror. His jeans were unbuttoned and hung low on his hips. His muscular shoulders stiffened a bit when he saw your reflection.

"I-I..." You stuttered, unable to look away. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in here." Your cheeks were beet red, voice audibly shaking.     "That's okay," He turned around and took a few steps towards you. "You can walk in on me like this whenever you want. It seems like you're liking what you see." He growled, his hand moved to rest against wall next to your head.    You sighed and threw your bag to the floor, kicking your shoes off quickly. That memory ignited something in you and you couldn't deny the wetness forming between your thighs. Swiftly, you unbuttoned your jeans and slid them down your legs, crawling into your bed. You hooked your phone up to your speaker, playing your "Steamyyyyy" playlist, as if you'd ever been with more than one person before. You ran one finger down your chest, to your stomach, finally reaching your black panties, one finger rubbing light circles over your clothed clit. You let out a throaty sigh, gradually picking up speed. Your eyes were closed, head thrown back onto the black silk of your pillow case. You pushed the fabric to the side, your fingertip finally making skin to skin contact with the little bundle of nerves held between your soaking folds. Your lips remained parted, letting out desperate little whimpers every few seconds. Your free hand gripped at the sheets as your finger worked faster, whimpers eventually turning into loud moans. You hadn't been alone to do this in so long - honestly, you'd forgotten what it felt like. As alone as you felt, you logically knew you were never alone in this house. Tate was sat in your desk chair, a distinct protrusion pressing against his light wash jeans. His jaw hung open as he watched you, in shock over how beautiful you looked.Your mind was running with thoughts of none other than him; you thought about his fingers working you like this, his large hands caressing your skin, his full lips pressing kisses into your neck.     

"Tate..." You gasped, fully immersed in your fantasy, feeling that familiar tighten in your tummy, your fingers moved harder almost instinctively. Tate sat there, quiet. You'd finally rendered him speechless. His name fell from your lips several more times. His hand clapped over his mouth to hide his whimpers as you made his cock twitch against his boxers. Truthfully, he'd fantasized about you more times than he cared to admit. Seeing you like this was just a happy accident. He'd walked into your room with the intention to scare you, throw some stuff off of your shelves to mess with your head. But he stopped outside the door, hearing muffled moans. He opened the door slowly, eyes widening when he saw what you were doing.     Suddenly, the coil inside of you snapped and your legs started shaking. Your jaw hung agape, nails digging into the soft fabric beneath you.     

"Oh- fuck! Tate..." You hissed loudly, guaranteed that someone, somewhere in the house heard you. But, it was just Tate. He now stood at the end of your bed, watching as you soaked your fingers, his hand gently palming himself through his jeans. Once you'd finally ridden out your orgasm, you pulled your fingers from their spot between your legs, sighing deeply, satisfied. Your eyes finally opened and you looked around - still no one. Part of you was surprised Tate wasn't there to make fun of you. It was in that moment that you realized how loudly you'd been saying his name. You literally gotten off to him. He'd invaded your thoughts throughout the day and now he was doing it again in your only alone time. God dammit. You sighed and leaned up in your bed, rubbing your eyes. You couldn't keep playing this game with him - you needed to ask him what the hell his goal was. You needed to see what he felt for you. 

   You stood up and slid back into your jeans from earlier, making your way to your bathroom down the hall. The closer you got, you could hear a voice coming from inside. Your hand met the coolness of the door knob, but you stopped, feeling your knees weaken when you realized what you were hearing. From the other side of the door came strained grunts. Your heart was racing but you couldn't pull away. You pressed your ear against the door, the voice getting louder and louder. 

"(Y/N)," the voice hissed - your suspicions were confirmed, it was Tate. "I-I'm gonna' cum..." He hissed, letting out a loud, relieved moan. Your mind was racing, desperate to see what he looked like in that moment. Moments later, you heard the zipper of his jeans and quicker than you meant to, you began your little run down the hall and down the stairs, no doubt he heard your foot falls. Your heart was going to jump out of your throat, you were sure of it. It was your own fault for thinking you'd ever have any kind of alone time in this house. Tate never left you alone - he saw you. He had to. There was no way that was a coincidence. You opened he fridge, not really looking for anything, just trying to occupy yourself. You jumped when you saw two hands on either side of your head, making contact with the fridge. Speak of the devil.

   "Tate! You-you scared me." Whether he saw you or not, it was clear that something had you frazzled.    

"Can we talk?" His voice sounded deep, gravelly, almost like when he'd just woken up. You finally turned around and looked up at him. His hair was a bit messy, cheeks tinted a pale pink.    

"Yeah, about what?" Your voice shook with your words, hands clasped tightly in front of you. You looked up at him as he pushed his body closer to yours.    

"No need to act like you don't know what you heard." He growled, chest pressed tightly to yours. "And I'm not going to act like I didn't see you soaking your sheets thinking about me."

His dark eyes looked bright. He got some kind of thrill out of embarrassing you. You opened your mouth to say something sarcastic back, but no sound came out. Tate being this close to you was making your heart race, you didn't have the overwhelming urge to shove him away like you normally would.   

"I think," He whispered, lips ghosting yours, "You like when I tease you." He smirked, one hand moving down your side to your hip. "Why don't you tell me what you were thinking about, hm baby girl?" His lips brushing yours forced an unintentional moan from your throat, cheeks flushing almost instantly.    "I-Tate..." You were mesmerized. He had you in the palm of his hand and it excited him. "I wasn't thinking about you." You tried to lie, realizing just how dumb you sounded after the words came out.     

"Oh Tate," He raised his tone to mock you, "Fuck me, Tate." He chuckled down at you. "Nothing to be embarrassed about doll, I know you heard me saying your name just like that too." He gave your hip a firm squeeze. 

"After what, nine months in this house, I think it's time you live your fantasies." 

He held you tightly in his hands, spinning you two around so you were pressed against the edge of the counter top. You had nothing to say. Honestly, you were unbelievably excited. You'd thought about his hands touching your skin, his lips on yours, you've wanted this longer than you cared to admit. Your hand came up to hold one side of his face, taking a fistful of his hair and kissing him - hard. His lips worked against yours perfectly, feeling as if they were made to fit together. He got rougher, not hesitating to take control of you. He pushed you firmly against the cool marble behind your back, lips moving from yours down your jaw and to the soft skin on your neck. His kisses started gentle, but quickly got aggressive, nipping at the skin, leaving purple marks in his wake.

You tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, feeling him smirk against your skin before he pulled back to tug the gray fabric over his head, showing you his slightly toned torso. Your heart rate picked up once again as you looked him up and down. 

   "Your turn, angel." He cooed softly, watching as you followed his actions, tossing your tank top to the side. He smirked at you, using both hands to grope at your exposed chest, pressing possessive kisses to your chest.    

"I've always loved it when you don't wear a bra." He teased you, his playful, mocking tone returning.

"It's much more obvious than you think." He smirked and tweaked one nipple between his pointer finger and thumb, making you whimper from the slightly satisfying jolt of pain. You leaned your head back, allowing your eyes to shut as his tongue replaced his fingers, flicking over your nipple. Your lips were parted, letting out quiet gasps of pleasure. His now free hands moved down your sides and to your jeans, unbuttoning them with ease and sliding them down your thighs. You kicked them aimlessly to the forming pile of clothes on he floor.

His kisses started moving south, trailing them down your breasts, to your stomach, to your hips, finally reaching the thin cotton fabric that was now soaked between your legs. One of his hands came up to lift your leg over his shoulder, his lips pushing a few light kisses against your clothed pussy. You whimpered, desperate for him. You'd never admitted it to yourself, but Tate has always a central theme in your fantasies. He'd force his way into your thoughts without you even realizing it, and after you were done, you'd push it away and pretend like you'd thought about someone else. You didn't want to be attracted to someone as annoying and immature as Tate, but now he had his head between your thighs and you had no intention of stopping it.

   He'd pushed the thin fabric aside, flicking his tongue against your clit just once, to make you moan out in pleasure.         

"Stop teasing me, dick head." You half whimpered, half challenged him. You did want him, so badly, but you couldn't let him see just how wrapped around his finger you really were. With your words he roughly pulled your hips forward, forcing a harsh smack to your ass.    

"I like you much more when you're just moaning my name." He growled, but he listened to you. His lips attached to your clit and he began sucking lightly, not hesitating to push two fingers into your wet heat, making you squeal in pleasure. It'd been a long time since someone else's fingers had penetrated you, and somehow Tate was fucking amazing at it. He curled his fingers perfectly in rhythm with the way his mouth worked your clit. Your hands gripped the edge of the counter top, knees growing weak. You felt that tight heat rising in your tummy, his fingers and tongue getting you so close to release, much quicker than you ever did by yourself.     

"Tate- I'm gonna-" He stood up, smoothly lifting you up onto the counter, keeping your leg slung over his shoulder.    

"You're cumming on my cock." He growled dominantly, his eyes looking dark and almost feral. He kicked his jeans and boxers to the side, completing the pile of your clothes. You couldn't help but watch as he stroked his length a few times before lining it up with your entrance, pushing into you painfully slowly. You looked up at him, taking in his features. His jaw hung open a bit, blond curls hanging in his eyes. He looked as perfect as someone possibly could. Once he bottomed out inside of you, he looked up, beginning to thrust into you, starting slow and picking up gradually. 

   "Fuck-" He hissed through gritted teeth, "You're so fucking tight." His hands rested on the counter on either side of your hips, fingertips turning white from how hard he pressed into the surface. He kept up a steady pace for awhile before you felt his hips stutter - he was close. He brought one hand up and began rubbing fast circles over your clit, making your legs tremble around him.    

"Cum with me, angel." He growled, fingers picking up their pace, your lips barely brushing his as you felt that tightness return. Your jaw hung open now as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You watched his fingers and hips work in time against you, when all of a sudden you felt him release, covering your walls with his hot cum, forcing the coil in your tummy to snap. You came with him, nails digging into his shoulder, knees feeling weak before it was even over. You watched his face relax once he was finished, chest rising and falling quickly. He looked up at you through his hair, flashing a faint smile. He pulled out of you slowly, pressing a loving kiss into your cheek before bending down to dig through the pile of clothes to find his boxers. He slipped them over his legs, followed by his jeans, but you stayed in your spot on the counter.    "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" He looked at you, jeans resting low on his hips.    "You get on my fucking nerves more than anything, and somehow you managed to have me up on this counter for you." You shook your head, blatantly in shock from what just happened. You didn't want it to end though. There was something about seeing Tate so vulnerable, yet so confident that just left you wanting more. He smirked, pulling his shirt over his head and shrugging.    "Neither of us are complaining." He smirked, tossing you your shirt and helping you down from the counter. You pulled your tank top on, opening your mouth to respond when you heard the key turn in the door - your parents were home.    "This isn't over, Langdon." You hissed, grabbing your clothes before rushing up the stairs, accidentally slamming your door much harder than you intended.    A few weeks had passed since your encounter with Tate, and there had been a repeat of those events every few days. You two started to pick up on what the other one liked. Like how you enjoyed having your hair pulled and Tate enjoyed when you'd kiss his neck. He liked having you in control. For someone as confident and douchey he was, he liked having you dirty talking him, being the more dominant one occasionally. And god damn, that boy was always in the mood. You'd feel his hands on your hips when you'd brush your teeth in the morning, or when you were getting ready for bed, he'd kiss down your shoulders the way he knew you loved. But you didn't mind. If he wanted it, you were happy to drop what you were doing and sleep with him. It was a fun little arrangement.    It was late, probably around 2 A.M., Tate was laid next to you, a blanket covering him from the waist down, his arms behind his head. You looked over at him, feeling your heart race a little faster. The more time you spent with Tate, the more you grew to appreciate him. He was funny, and charismatic. He'd make you giggle but then have you bent over your bed in the same minute. You couldn't help but miss the feeling of him when you slept alone in your bed. He was always warm.    You pulled the blanket tighter around your chest as you leaned up on one elbow, looking over at his sleepy face.        "Tate can I ask you something? It's kind of dumb, but I just need to know." You felt nervous all of a sudden. You weren't even exactly sure what you wanted with him. Could you be in a relationship with someone who died in the 90's? Was that even what he wanted? What if he just wanted to be fuck buddies? Is that okay with you? Your brain was jumbled with all these thoughts, interrupted when he looked over at you, skin almost glowing in the dim light.    "What's up?" He looked up at you, his finger drawing lazy circles on his chest. You took a deep breath and visibly shifted, clearly uncomfortable.    "What are we?" You blurted out, cheeks going red immediately. "Because we- we fuck a lot. You're in my room a lot. You never let me be alone, and I just don't want to say something weird, or continue being in the dark I guess." Your voice trailed off before you collapsed down onto your back again, suddenly unable to look at him. He looked over at you though, you couldn't meet his eyes.    "What do you want to be?"    "No, don't put this on me. Answer my question."    He sighed, and you finally looked over at hi,.    "(Y/N)," He started, looking over your chest before looking back into your eyes. "Honestly, this started as sex." Your heart dropped. "But you're right, we have spent a lot of time together. I like being in here with you, regardless of what we're doing." He moved to cup one side of your face.    "I don't want to tie you down, ever. I can't leave this house, and I don't want you to be stuck here with me." You opened your mouth to cut him off, tell him that you were willing to be here with him, for however long he wanted, but he cut you off, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip.    "How about this - you and me continue what we're doing here. We can be boyfriend and girlfriend here, but I won't be mad if you find someone else, out there." His words almost brought tears to your eyes. You hadn't felt cared for like this in so long, and to be here, this vulnerable and intimate made your eyes well up.    "Please just agree. If I could leave this house, I'd ask you to be mine right now, and I'd parade you around for everybody to see. But I can't do that, so we keep doing what we're doing, and see how things progress naturally." He flashed you a close mouthed smile, but it felt genuine nonetheless. One tear fell down your cheek, and you returned his smile.    "That sounds perfect to me. Boyfriend and girlfriend, kind of." You grinned before he pulled you into a kiss, hands wrapping around you to keep you in his arms - and you'd stay there as long as he wanted you to.

[calumbringbackthewatermelonshirt]

Music for the Soul

a/n: wow, yet another piece that was supposed to be a one shot but I got carried away with.

Cal had officially decided his soulmate sucked. Who in their right mind played the cello at all hours of the night, especially some fucking irish dancing sounding tune? Sure the way the music skipped and danced, seemingly alive was beautiful, but at 2am? On a night when Cal had and early tour promo the next day? Hell, the only reason he’d be interested in finding her would to tell her that this shit wasn’t okay. Eventually she slowed it down to a soft melodic tune, something sweet and sorrowful. It sounded like something out of a movie soundtrack, and executed just as perfectly. Still, every once and awhile, she would stop and repeat a specific few bars over and over again until she could play them at quadruple the correct speed. While Cal may have been pissed at her timing, he had to give her credit where it was due. The discipline of her playing, the emotion conveyed through her music, it was like living art. It was all he could think about as her sorrowful tune lured him into sleep.

In your opinion, your soulmate had some weird fucking taste in music. The songs were just strange. They were, as far as you could tell, bass lines for the most part. All of them were decent, composed of a few deep notes hitting in repetitive patterns, occasionally switching to a more powerful rift. They weren’t bad, but they weren’t your taste either. To you, it sound like a pop/rock sort of mix, songs played on the radio probably. You weren’t sure though. Your musical knowledge was severely limited, seeing as you almost exclusively listened to the same types of classical music you played. The tunes were catchy, though, often implanting themselves in your brain with no hope of a resolution to a song you didn’t know. They distracted you as you played, and you found yourself adding them into your own songs. It was pretty fucking annoying. Especially when you were onstage. Once, you even caught yourself adding one of the basslines into a Beethoven, having to improvise so you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of Carnegie Hall. But, sometimes, you would pick up your own upright bass and pluck out the same tunes that ran through your head all day.||

“It feels good to be back in New York.” Luke was breathing in the smog of the city, the smell of hot dogs from the vendor across the street.

“What makes New York all that special, huh, Luke?” Cal, personally, didn’t give one fuck about the city either way. He did appreciate how easy it was smoke in this city, however.

“I don’t know man. I guess I just love the energy. The vibes, ya know?” Luke pulled a face as he spoke, raising his eyebrows up and down. Calum gave him shit often, but it was all in the name of friendship.

“Listen. I got all of us tickets go see a concert at Carnegie Hall. Y’all need some culture.” Ashton had been scrolling through places he wanted to visit on his phone. Being in this band took him all over the world, but Ashton barely got time to travel.

“Bro, why? No offense, but that’s not really our scene. How about we try and visit a club of some sorts instead? Discover the next big thing?” Michael was being truthful. Classical music really wasn’t their scene.

“Classical music is quite beautiful if you take the time to listen, Michael.” Cal kept thinking about his soulmate, her own music resonating in his ears. Her music, classical music, truly was beautiful.

“What the fuck, Cal? Since when are you some musical snob?” Luke was confused. He really didn’t know much about his dark haired band member.

“Oh, fuck off, won’t ya?” Cal took another drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke out of his lungs as he gazed at the skyline. He hadn’t ever told anyone about his soulmate. Everyone had their own versions of discovery. Some said their entire worlds turned to color as they touched for the first time, some had tattoos that matched the same in their partners, some even having necklaces that matched their significant others. Cal loved his, though. It really fit him, he thought. A few unlucky people didn’t have soulmates, destined to be alone. Cal had, for the most part, convinced everyone in his life the same was true for him. They were sorry for him, pitiful. He didn’t care, however. Cal knew, and while he had no intention of finding his soulmate, he was still content to listen to the soft melodic tunes flowing from the strings of his soulmate’s cello. ||

“Again? A-fucking-gain?” Your best friend, Emily, was freaking out. For no reason, in your opinion.

“Yes again. They somehow found the decency in their hearts to invited me back after my botched attempt at Beethoven. I can’t believe I let that fucking bassline get to me in the middle of a performance.” You were still incredibly angry with yourself. You prided yourself on your professionalism, your dedication and perfectionism. So when you let a few fucking notes corroded into a symphony like that? It was fucking wild that she let it happen.

“Bitch. This will be the second time in two fucking months you’ll have played Carnegie Hall. At twenty. You’re not even old enough to drink, and you’re selling out the most famous concert hall in the United States. Fuck you, bitch.” Emily took a sip of her coffee. The two of you had attended Julliard together, had been roommates all four years. Emily had been a surrealistic painter, however, as opposed to your musical capabilities. The two of you posed a nice contrast to each other, her flighty and always down for adventure, while you were studious and always considered every decision carefully.

“Whatever. I’m just ready to go on the tour. People just don’t appreciate the arts like they used to. This is pretty much a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I’m hella excited. I even did a little shopping and got a few dresses.” You had splurged a little, sure, but it was totally worth it. Like you had told Emily, this was a once in a lifetime thing. You were damn sure to make the most of it.

“You’re still going to the concert with me tonight right?”  Emily had been blabbering on nonstop about this concert for weeks. Normally, you would have insisted she take someone else, especially this close to such an important concert. But, for reasons you couldn’t explain, some strange feeling had said you need to be at the concert, persistent and foreign to anything you had felt before. So you had told Emily that you would go with her.

“Yeah. I mean, I said I would. What the name of this band again? I keep forgetting.” You didn’t really care about the band, but it was supposedly sold out at Madison Square Garden. You figure that you had a decent chance of meeting your soulmate among almost twenty thousand people. Especially with that damn feeling you couldn’t shake. It made you start thinking about everything, all the variables and potentials. Without noticing, you started absentmindedly tapping out the bass line you soulmate was playing on the table with your nails. Emily noticed and smiled a little. She had already been lucky enough to have found her soulmate already, and while you had resisted as much as possible, she was always trying to help you find the one.

“5 seconds of summer. I really think you’ll like them, even though they’re not exactly your scene.”

“Wait, I think I’ve heard of them actually. Aren’t they that one band with the song young-something?”

“Youngblood, dumbass. I thought you were going to listen to some of their songs.”

“I’m sorry this Bach is really kicking my ass. I should get going, actually. I need to practice some more before tomorrow night.” You gave Emily a quick hug and walked to where your car was parked on the street. Maybe you could find the time to listen to a few tracks, at least.||

“Well, well, well. Here we are. Madison Square Garden.” Luke was standing in the middle of the stage, looking out over the stadium that would soon be filled with almost twenty thousand people.

“Madison Square Garden, sold out.” Ashton corrected Luke. They deserved it after everything.

“You good, Cal?” Michael, Luke and Ash were all standing together in the middle of the stage, but when michael looked over and their fourth bandmate, he found him sitting almost dejectedly against an amp. Michael studied his bassist for a moment, taking in the furrowed brow and almost scowl on his face.

“Hmm? Yeah, yeah, I’m great. Madison Square Garden.” Cal stood, brushed himself off and walked to join his other bandmates in the center of the stage. He had been finding himself thinking of his soulmate more and more each day. Sure he had always wondered about her, but why couldn’t he get her out of his head lately? He was starting to get concerned that it would interfere with performance tonight. She hadn’t even been playing much lately, and yet she was in his head more than ever. ||

“Why did I let you convince me to wear this? It’s not me.” Emily and convinced you to wear a tight and short blue plaid skirt, doc martens, and a white tube style tank top to the concert. She had even done your makeup and hair.

“Shut up, you look hot as fucking hell.” Emily was really paying attention to you. She was bouncing on her heels with anticipation, and was even more excited for being first in line. She had dragged you out here about five hours prior to when the concert door opened and the line had just started forming behind the two of you about an hour ago. Still, if it made Emily this happy, you supposed it was worth it. The concert was supposed to start in less than half an hour, but all you really wanted was to be at home, running though pieces on your cello. Instead you settled for fingering through them and humming the melodies softly to yourself. It was barely audible, but as you closed your eyes and concentrated in the music, your expression slowly slipped into a smile. ||

Cal couldn’t quite figure out why, but he was nervous. For the first time in about a year. His feelings had been all out of whack lately. No matter how hard he tried, Cal couldn’t stop thinking about how nervous he was for the show tonight. He was sitting with his head in his hands in the dressing room when it started. The melodies of Bach, Beethoven, even a few du Pre. They weren’t the same as before, though. No, this time, his soulmate was singing. Her voice was soft, like she didn’t want to be heard, but Cal could still tell there was a sort of power behind it. This voice made him feel the same way that hot chocolate on a cold day did, warm and safe. It lit him up from inside, calming him and wiping out any nerves that he felt, leaving mere shadows of the butterflies in his gut. Cal’s lips curled up, and he stood. Cal had never felt more excited to get up on stage. As he did, he couldn't help but sense that you were in the crowd, watching him, perhaps even dancing as he sang. It gave him a different kind of rush, the type that alcohol nor sex could. When he was on stage, all the other boys could tell there was something different to his performance that night. Something more energized and excitable. Tonight, passion reverberated through the basslines he played. ||

@marshmallowtraver

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Straight Boy

Part 2: together

Rating: M

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 10365

Chapters: 2/4 [All chapters]

Read on AO3

AN: Oooooh this chapter is fuuuuun :) I loved writing all this fic but especially this chapter. Also, forgot to mention it last chapter, but yes "Baz in glasses" is BACK baby!!! I love this HC and I will keep putting it in fics until I die. Well, enjoy this chapter :D

Tagging: @jeansjeansjeansjeans

———————————————-

I have to do a double take of the building. I check the address Baz text sent me, and it’s right. This fancy ass mostly glass white condo is definitely the right place. Well, Baz said his family was rich, maybe they bought him a whole condo for uni? Yeah...

I walk and type in the buzzer code Baz gave me. It rings low and loud, until a very pissed off voice comes on. And it’s definitely not Baz.

“What?!” The posh woman barks out. I instinctively step away.

“Uh, I’m here to see Baz?” I say with extreme caution. “I’m Simon, by the way.”

“Oh, right, Basilton said you were coming.”

Basilton? What? Okay, not important right now. There’s an obnoxiously loud buzz and the door unlocks. I rush in and go towards the elevator. It’s all cold grey fancy steel. I feel very intimidating as I go up to the twenty fifth floor. Luckily, Baz’s flat is just to the right, so I don’t get lost. (Penny says I get lost turning left.) I knock on the door lightly. A few heavy steps come towards me, then the door swings open, making me take a step back.

This woman is definitely not Baz, but I’m pretty damn sure they’re related. Same skin tone, same grey eyes, same black hair. Though she has a thick white blonde streak at the front. I can’t tell if it’s dyed or natural. She’s wearing a leather jacket and ripped jeans with old Doc Martens. She looks like she just came out from a seventies punk bar, and she was the headline act.

“Uh, hello,” I say very cautiously. “I’m Simon.”

“So, you’re Simon,” she replies with a weird suspicion. “You’re shorter than I thought you would be.”

“Um, sorry?”

“Fiona!” I hear Baz shout from behind her. He appears suddenly, glasses on top of his head, hair falling in a lazy wave over his angry face. He's dressed in a loose white shirts and blue jeans we picked out at W Wood. Wait, are jeans his lazy clothes? Huh, odd. He looks good, so whatever.

“Stop picking on Simon,” he growls at the women, apparently called Fiona, glaring viciously. Fiona glares right back.

“I wasn’t picking on him,” she says with bite.

Baz rolls his eyes dramatically. “Of course you weren’t.” He finally looks at me and immediately grins. “Hi, Snow, glad you could make it. This is my Aunt Fiona. Please ignore her. She’s over protective, like an old pit bull.”

Fiona scoffs loudly and smacks his arm. “I am not old, you wanker! I’m only thirty eight!”

“Not the important thing here. Now, Fiona, don’t you have somewhere to be?” He raises one eyebrow impossibly high. Fiona glares even harder.

“This is my apartment, y’know.”

“Our apartment now. And you’re going to Nicky’s. Seriously, why don’t you two just get a flat together and give me the place to myself 24/7?”

Fiona rolls her eyes. Wow, I can see where Baz gets it from. “Please, we’re too new for that.”

“You’ve known each other since high school.”

“But only been dating for a few months. We’re still in the sexy honeymoon phase, Basil,” she says with a wink. My cheeks heat up, Baz is obviously unimpressed, and Fiona looks very smug. I feel like I’m intruding on a much larger conversation.

“Fiona,” Baz sighs, “please, just go see your boyfriend. Come back tomorrow.”

She sighs over dramatically. “Fine. Leave my kitchen and living room in working order by the time I come back, please.”

Baz sighs in the exact same way. “Yes, of course, now go!”

Fiona walks past me, patting my shoulder as she goes. “Nice meeting you, Simon. Have fun.” Her nails dig into my skin for a brief moment. Not enough to really hurt but enough to sting. I don’t think she likes me that much...

Baz physically pushes Fiona out the door. She flips him off. He groans and gestures me inside. “Sorry about that. Come in, come in. I’ve almost got supper ready.”

I follow in after him, unzipping my hoodie, since this fancy place is certainly well heated. “It’s fine, man. I didn’t know you lived with your Aunt.”

“Yeah, sorry, never came up. She lives close to campus so it was easier to just take her extra room instead of trying to find another place. And I think my parents want her to spy on me for them.”

I chuckle as I kick off my trainers. “And how is that working out? She didn’t strike me as someone who would tattle to your parents.”

Baz’s lip pulls up into a smirk. “Well, she likes to be a shit and pretend she’ll tell them about my activities. But at the same time, she let me smoke half her joint last night while we watched Monty Python and ate peanut butter from the jar.”

“Oh my god,” I giggle. “That sounds amazing!’

“It certainly was. Now come on, I’m starved.”

We walk down the short hall into the actual apartment. I have to stop myself from gasping. The whole place is kinda intimidating but cool. It’s like what you see in catalogues. All white walls, modern furniture, and large bay windows with a view of the steel and brick horizon. Though there’s also enough personality to it to show that two people live here. There's lots of photos on the walls of Baz and Fiona and people who look enough like them to be relatives. Some old books are spread out on the coffee table, with lots of sticky notes on the pages in Baz's wispy handwriting. And next to the volumes are rolling papers I can safely assume are Fiona’s. Looks like a fun place to live.

“Just nearly burned supper, goodness,” Baz chuckles.

I follow his voice into the kitchen. It’s all white with fancy high tech chrome appliances. Baz is bending over the oven, making the denim stretch across his arse. I blush and avoid looking. The memory of...that part of his anatomy is still burned into my brain. It never goes away, just fades and pops back up at literally the worst possible moments. Like late at night, persuading my hand to “accidentally” slip into my pants. Or right now, when I really can’t let my hand go anywhere to relieve the heat he makes in my stomach. Fuck, my head hurts.

“Perfect,” Baz says cheerily. “Cooked all the way through.” He pulls out a pan with two herb covered chicken breasts and oily asparagus stalks. He opens the pot on top of the stove. It’s filled with absolutely divine tomato sauce. My eyes get very wide.

“Wow,” I gasp. “When you said you were making supper, I thought you meant boxed pasta or some shit.”

Baz smiles smugly. “I’m classier than that, Salisbury.”

His smirk makes my stomach even hotter. I shrug. “Guess I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“Damn right. Now go sit down, I’ll bring the plates out in a second.”

He gestures to the large glass dining table near the window. There’s two rich crimson placemats across from each other, twin wine glasses already filled. The lights are low, matching the setting sun. Everything is soft orange, red, and violet. It’s really nice. This is the fanciest supper set up I've ever seen. And Baz did it for me. He's so nice. My knees wobble a bit as I take my chair. Baz soon comes out with two full plates.

“Dinner is served,” he announces grandly, placing the food in front of me. It’s chicken, asparagus, and some unfamiliar rice dish. It’s got lentils, fried onions, chickpeas, macaroni noodles, and that amazing tomato sauce all on top. My mouth immediately starts watering.

“Thank you,” I reply as he sits down. I wait for him to unfold his napkin and everything to be polite. Mum taught me that. But it’s hard. I really want to eat.

Baz gives me an amused look. “Dig in, Snow, I can see you salivating all the way from over here.”

I roll my eyes, but still grab my utensils. “Shut up.” I put a large forkful of rice in my mouth, and it’s a flavour explosion. My tastebuds are singing with joy. I’ve never had something this good. I start shovelling huge bites in, making Baz snort with laughter.

“You like it?” he asks with amusement.

“Uh, fuck yeah! What is this, ambrosia?”

Baz chuckles and shakes his head, “No, just some good spices. That’s called koshari. It’s a very famous dish in Egypt. I’m half Egyptian, so I wanted to try to make it. Connect to my heritage and all.”

I try to smile, but my mouth is partially filled with koshari, so it’s difficult. “That’s awesome. Like, it’s really cool you’ve got that connection to your culture and stuff. Plus it’s just like super delicious.”

He half smiles, lifting his wine glass like a true gentleman, “The chef appreciates your compliments.”

I lift my own and clink our cups together. Like we’re fancy or something. “You’re very welcome.”

We trade easy conversation as we eat. Baz has completely caught up in his classes. Actually, he’s probably ahead. He’s incredibly smart so I’m not surprised. I’m getting better at paying attention in class. Penny gave me a fidget spinner, which I think was supposed to be a joke, but it’s actually helped me channel some of that restless energy. Plus I’m just super interested in our therapy unit. It’s what I study social work for, to help people. Baz calls me exceedingly noble. From his small smile, I assume it’s a compliment.

Once dinner is finished, we put our plates in the sink. I try to start washing but Baz slaps my hand away.

“None of that,” he says resolutely. “I’ll do it later.”

I put my hands in my pockets. I know there’s no point in arguing with him, amazing stubborn bastard. “Alright. What should we do? I don’t really feel like going home yet.”

A strange look crosses over his face. Both nervous and excited maybe? It’s so fleeting I can’t tell before it’s gone. He nods slowly. “Want to watch a movie? I’ve got Fiona’s Netflix account.”

“Yeah sure. Sounds good.”

We walk over to Fiona’s pristine white couch. I flop down while Baz sits properly, ankles crossed, straight back, hands in his lap. Jeez, he can still be so uptight sometimes. He flips down his glasses, probably so he can actually see the TV. Fuck, they really do look good on him. I have to make an effort not to stare.

“What should we watch?” I ask. “Horror? Comedy? Drama?”

Baz shrugs. “Well, I only watch documentaries, which you’d probably find very boring. So I leave the choice up to you, Salisbury.” He hands me the remote like a gentleman offering a bouquet. I take it graciously.

“Oh thank you kind sir,” I say in my poshest accent. Baz rolls his eye and chuckles.

I flip through Netflix for a little while. Well, Baz wasn’t lying about only watching documentaries. All his recently watched are movies about forests and wars and violinists. Bo-ring! I go to the romcom section, because I love stupid tropey shit. Penny calls me a hopeless romantic. I just like that everything works out in the end. Real life isn’t usually like that. It’s nice to pretend. So I pick “Notting Hill”. It’s one my favourites.

“Dear Lord,” Baz mutters part way in, “what is this?”

“It’s a rom com,” I reply.

“So, I’m supposed to believe that a movie star just happens to wander into this guy’s store? And she kisses him impulsively? Seriously?”

I playfully smack his arm. Wow, his hands are rough, his arms are smoother than sea glass. “It’s not supposed to be realistic, it’s supposed to be fun.”

He snorts. “Well, all I can focus on is the plot holes.”

I sigh. My head, heavy from food drowsiness, lolls to my right. It takes me a bit too long to realise it’s fallen on Baz’s shoulder. Shit, didn’t mean to do that. He’s incredibly tense, every muscle pulled tight. I nearly move off, but then he relaxes. His legs uncross, and his hands fall to beside his sides. So, I guess this is okay. And his shoulder, despite it’s boney-ness, is actually really comfy. Yeah. this is cool. I’ll just stay here.

The movie keeps going, but it kind of falls to background noise for me. I know it off by heart anyway. I’m more focused on other things for some reason. Like the feel of Baz’s soft shirt on my cheek. Or that his whole jean covered leg is pressed against mine. Or how close his rough farmer-violist hand is to mine. I’ve only held it a couple times, and only loosely. I do wonder...

Before thinking about it too much, I reach over and grab his hand. Baz inhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t pull away. Our hands rest together. We stay like that for awhile. Watching the movie, just casually holding hands. Normal friend stuff. His skin is still as scratchy as I remember, creating sparks of sensation all over my palm. And his fingers are quite long. Pianist fingers, I think that’s the term. They’re nice. I like his hand. I like holding it.

Eventually, I lift my head up, and my eyes flick over to him. I just want to see if he’s enjoying the movie. Holy shit, he’s looking back. His grey eyes are staring right at me. It almost feels like he’s looking through me they’re so piercing. It makes me shudder involuntarily. His eye move lower, to... Wait is he looking at my-

And then he kisses me.

Holy shit. A guy is kissing me. More importantly, Baz is kissing me. His face is so close to mine, black hair falling around us, glasses pushing against my nose. Baz’s lips are smooth, soft, and kinda cold. Well, not cold, just chilly, like an ocean breeze. It feels nice. His kiss feels nice. Oh my god, I’m musing about a guy kissing me, about how much I like it. What the hell?!

Our mouths are still, just pressed together chastely. Like we're a pair of awkward pre-teends having out first kiss. But really I’m too stunned to move. Then Baz pulls away slightly. His eyes are a bit glassy and his breathing is unsteady. “Is this okay?” he whispers.

That’s a really good fucking question. Am I okay with this? My lips are still tingling, and my pulse is hammering in my ears. Every fibre in my body is screaming at me to get close to him again. I nod. “Yeah,” I reply breathlessly, “yeah, it’s okay.”

Baz smirks, pushing his glasses on top of his head before kissing me again. He’s less hesitant this time, moving his mouth more insistently and curling his long fingers around my nape. I try to match his pace, try to pull him closer too, clutching his shirt in tight fists. I just want him so close. I let out an involuntary moan when his nails prick my skin. The slight sting makes everything go spinny. My mouth falls open, and I moan again as his tongue slowly slides across mine. Holy shit, why does this feel so much better than any kiss I’ve had before? I’ve only snogged a few of people, so it’s not like I’ve got a ton of experience, but I’ve got enough. And this is by far the best snog I’ve ever had.

I don’t even realise I’ve been leaning back until I’m laying down with Baz over me. He’s got one hand in my hair, the other trailing along my side, and a leg between mine. I’m holding his hips, dangerously close to going under his shirt. I really want to feel those muscles I saw in the changeroom, but I don’t want to do anything like that without Baz’s permission. Consent is necessary and all. But suddenly, without even moving off my mouth, Baz grabs my wrist and shoves my hand right under his shirt. Okay, pretty damn sure that’s consent. I trace the ridges and planes of muscle in his back, memorising the how ridiculously good they feel. He groans into my mouth. It makes my whole body shudder. And I full on gasp when he grinds his knee between my legs. My whole brain fucking explodes. Oh man, I am certainly “reacting” very, very strongly right now.

Through all the arousal haze, I wonder if this, what we’re doing, means I’m gay. But I don’t want to kiss Baz because he’s a guy. I want to kiss Baz because he’s Baz. Because he’s nice and funny and watched Doctor Who for me. And sure, he’s also really pretty with his wavy black hair and deep sea eyes. But anyone would notice that. I’ve noticed that other guys are pretty before. I can be straight and observant, right? I don’t know. It’s all too confusing to think about now. I just want to keep holding Baz. I have to do that.

Fuck, how long has he wanted this? How long have I wanted this? I would say I didn’t, but then why are a list of things I want to do to Baz? Like this; I push a hand into his hair. The strands are soft, slipping through my fingers, just like I thought. I clench my fist and shove his face more into mine.

Suddenly, Baz pulls off my mouth.

“Sorry,” I say (I’m out of breath it’s embarrassing.)

“No, no, don’t be sorry. Just,” he takes a breath, “want to continue this somewhere more comfortable?”

I’m panting very hard, but so is he. His face is flushed, eyes half lidded, lips swollen and wet. He looks fucking hot. My whole body is vibrating with energy. I want to pull him down and kiss him until our mouths are sore. And well, this couch is a bit small to stay here for that long. So I nod. “Sure, sounds good.”

Baz grins, showing all his bright white teeth. “Wonderful.”

He climbs off me. His legs are shaky, but when I stand up, mine are too. Baz turns off the telly and takes my hand, leading me down the narrow hall towards a room. Once we enter, it’s very obvious that this is Baz’s room. It’s extremely neat because of course Baz is a clean freak. But the desk is covered in a mess of books and sheet music. His violin case sits in the corner. I wonder if I’ll ever hear him play.

We stop in front of the large bed. His sheets are all black, and they look like silk. Well, that's definitely more comfortable than the couch. Baz turns towards me. His face is lit up by the setting sun, skin glowing perfectly in the fiery light. Wow, he’s somehow even prettier right now. But, is he nervous? He’s chewing on his lip, and the hand I’m not holding keeps flexing. I guess he is. Huh, I haven’t seen him anxious since the W Wood. And right now he’s much worse.

“So,” he says, clearing his throat a bit, “how far do you want to go? We could just keep snogging, that’s fine with me. Or we could do more. Whatever you feel like, I’ll be fine with.”

Fucking hell he’s so considerate. It makes my heart speed up, for some reason. But, what do I want? I want to touch him, to kiss him a lot. For him to kiss me and touch me too. Maybe in places other than my lips. Actually, fuck "maybe", I desperately want that, the need itching under every part of my skin. Even though I've never wanted a guy to do that before. Even though I’m straight. I’m trying not to think too much about those contradictions and focus on how good kissing him felt. I really don’t need a headache at this time.

“I-I’m good for anything.” Wait no, not right. “But not ‘all the way’, though. I don’t think I’m prepared for that, in every sense of the word.”

Baz chuckles, his other hand grabbing mine. “That’s fine, no worries. Neither am I, to be honest. But there’s lots of other stuff we can do.”

I look down at the floor, stomach twisting terribly with nerves. “Um, if I’m being honest, Baz, I, uh, have no clue what to do. I’ve never done this before, with a guy.”

He doesn’t say anything. I expected him to laugh, to tease me at least a bit, but instead I feel his rough pianist finger knock up my chin. His mouth is soft, and his eyes are kind and understanding. Why are my knees so weak? “It’s okay, you don’t have to be nervous. We can try things, but you can absolutely stop me if I you want to, alright?” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, taking a moment to trace my jaw with a single callused fingertip. “I’ll take care of you, Simon.”

Bloody Hell, I’m not sure I have knees anymore now.

We lean forward simultaneously, lips instantly moulding together like we’ve been kissing forever. It feels so fucking good that I barely notice him pushing up my shirt. He pulls away when he reaches my arms. His face asks the silent question, and I nod in reply. He pulls the shirt over my head and tosses it to the side. I push at the hem of his. He happily helps me get it off, whipping it on the floor. My hands instantly go to his bare torso and chest. I try to touch all of it. Stomach, chest, shoulders, everything. I feel every bit of smooth skin and sharp angle, and they’re just as wonderful as I imagined.

“You’re actually perfect,” I murmur.

Baz smirks. He clenches his stomach, showing off his stupid perfect abs. I can’t suppress the squeak that pops out of my mouth.

“Why thank you,” he drawls sarcastically. I scoff, hoping it makes up for my red cheeks. He slowly runs his hand over my bare side the across my stomach. My whole body feels electric. I shiver and sigh. “You’re pretty damn amazing yourself, Snow.”

I attempt to laugh off my embarrassment. “T-Thanks.”

He kisses me softly again, arms winding around my neck. I hold his waist tightly. I nearly pull him over as Baz spins me around and pushes me on the bed. He stands over me, cupping my cheeks as we keep kissing. Soon he breaks away and starts trailing his cool lips slowly down my neck. It feels so good my eyes roll back in my head. I fall back on the mattress, propped up on my elbows, legs still hanging off the edge. He goes further and further. Across my collarbone, down my sternum and stomach, until he reaches just above my trouser waistband. Baz looks up from where he’s kneeling between my legs, eyes so dark I can only see the smallest ring of grey, and places a tentative hand over the button.

“May I?” he asks breathlessly.

I’m gripping the sheet so hard my knuckles are white. I can’t tell if it’s from nervousness or anticipation. Probably both. I know what he means. I know what he wants to do. Part of me is still confused by my own desire, but a louder part is only thinking in sex. In “yes, yes, please, more, do it.” And it’s a lot louder.

“Yeah,” I say, falling fully onto my back, "you can.”

I lay there, staring at the blemish free white ceiling, breathing harshly, just waiting. Everything is quiet. The only sound is the distant honks from far below and my own clamorous heartbeat. Baz doesn’t do anything for awhile and I start to think if I fucked up somehow. Am I too eager? Has he changed his mind? Is this all one big stupid mistake?

But then he pulls my pants down and takes me in his mouth. Then, well, I’m not thinking very much at all anymore.

———————————————-

I roll off Baz and flop next to him on his bed. We’re both panting and sweating and a bit sticky, bare bodies glistening in the city lights. It’s very dark out now. The sun set awhile ago. I manage to twist my still dizzy head to look at the digital clock on the nightstand. Holy shit, we just spent over two hours having sex. My muscles are totally dead, throbbing with blissful exhaustion.

And it hits me, again: I just had sex with Baz, with a guy, and I really, really liked it.

So does this mean I'm gay? But I liked it because it was Baz, not because it was a guy. He was so patient, so attentive, pushing just enough to get me to try new things but never so far that I was uncomfortable. I'm still unbelievably confused, but mostly just really fucking satisfied.

“Wow,” I say, voice raw and scratchy. “That was just, wow.”

Baz tries to chuckle, but his voice isn't much better than mine. “Had fun, Snow?”

“Uh, yeah! That was like the best sex I’ve ever had.” It’s only after the words burst out do I realise how fucking embarrassing that sounds. Baz laughs, of course. I cover my burning face. “I’ll shut up now,” I groan.

“Oh don’t be embarrassed, darling.” Baz peels my hands off, grinning face now hovering over mine. I can feel his foot pressed to my bare calf. He kisses my knuckles lightly. A thousand butterflies take off in my stomach. “It was really good for me too.”

His face is shiny with sweat, wavy hair all tangled because I kept pulling it (not that he complained). The city light dances across his skin perfectly. There’s a lot more butterflies flying now. I cup the back of his head and pull his mouth down to mine. I just want to be closer to him right now. It’s not urgent like before. It’s simply a lazy slide of our tired mouths, a calm way to end the frantic evening.

Baz pulls back slowly. His breath tickles my face. Then he collapses on top of me, face buried in the crook of my neck. I snort out a laugh I can’t help. He’s just too adorable.

“You tired, Basilton?” I tease.

“Shut up,” he grumbles. “And don’t use my full name. Only my family does that.”

“But it’s so funny! Your name is fucking Basilton Grimm-Pitch. You sound like an Edgar Allan Poe character.”

He chuckles against my skin. “Then you’ll love my first name.”

My heart does double time. I look down at him as best I can. “What the hell is your first name?!”

I feel his shit eating grin on my collarbone. “A man is allowed to have a few secrets, Snow.”

Damn, I really want to throttle the smug perfect bastard. He groans as pushes himself off me, slowly rolling onto his back then sitting upright, legs hanging off the edge. He stretches his arms to the sky, showing the grand muscular expanse of his back. (There are a lot of angry red scratches from my nails. Fuck, I was really into it.)

“I don’t know about you,” he yawns, “but I’m completely knackered. I’m brushing my teeth and going to bed.” His head turns halfway, showing just one eye, gaze slightly unsteady. Is he nervous again. “You want to stay? It’s alright if you don’t.”

Honestly, I’m not sure my muscles are strong enough right now to get me home. Even so, I do want to go. So I nod. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

His mouth quirks up. “Good.”

Baz slips on his boxers and hands me mine. He leads me to the washroom. It’s huge and pristine and white of course. Baz gives me a fresh toothbrush, which is really thoughtful, because he’s really thoughtful. The vain bastard keeps hogging the mirror though. Once we’re done with our teeth, we go back to the bedroom and Baz takes out his posh red silk pyjamas. He tries to offer me a pair but I’m fine with an oversized t-shirt that looks totally unworn.

“That thing?” Baz says slightly disgusted. “I got that from the overeager poet’s society back at Oxford.”

Huh, makes sense. It does have a Byron joke on it. I shrug. “Eh, it’s fine. Kinda funny too.”

Baz waves dismissively. “Very well. You can keep it if you want. I’m not going to wear it.”

I pull at the hem. Well, if he’s offering, sure. It’s really comfy. And or some reason, I sort of like the idea of keeping this shirt. Keeping Baz’s clothes...it’s just sorta nice.

I flop down on the silk sheets and immediately sink into the comfy mattress. It’s like a goddamn smooth cloud. I’m already drifting off into dreamland when Baz lays next to me. He pulls the quilt over us. Distantly, I feel his long arm drape across my waist and his body curl around mine. His breath hits the back of my neck, almost immediately evening out in sleep. I instinctively snuggle closer, because he feels good. This whole night has felt good. Maybe I should just focus on that instead of the storm in my brain. Yeah, I’m fine with that.

———————————————-

I’m waiting for Baz at Goat while trying to do my readings. He meets me after class, then we have lunch and talk. We’ve been hanging out a lot more on campus the past three weeks, ever since I slept over. I do that a lot more too, actually. I go to his place at least once a week, usually more. Sometimes we just eat supper, maybe watch a movie, then fall asleep in Baz’s bed. Other times we use the bed for...other things.

I’m still straight though. That's still how I think of my self. I just also like this, whatever it is. It’s a sorta weird but awesome friends with benefits thing. I think. We haven’t really defined it. But whatever. We’re having fun. Who needs labels?

“Hello, love.” Baz’s hand is a comfortable weight on my shoulder. He bends around the back of the chair and kisses me. It’s just a short, sweet greeting kiss. He does this a lot now. I like it. I smile against his mouth.

“Hi,” I reply as he sits down across from me. “How was class?”

Baz stretches out his hand. “Well, my fingers hurt, so very good. How was your’s?”

I lift up my heavy textbook. “Professor Blowhard assigned extra readings again, of course. Does he realise we have lives outside of class?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t care, obviously. Because he's a dickhead.”

“Damn right. I need scones to feel better.”

Baz rolls his eyes. “Of course you do. Ebb already getting our food ready?”

“Ebb’s finished your food.” I jolt slightly. When did Ebb get here? Did she manifest out of thin air? She holds two plates with our usuals. A latte, sour cherry scone, and grilled cheese with tomato and spinach for me. (Baz suggested I try the last one, so Ebb made it, and it’s really good.) And a fancy turkey-pesto panini and pumpkin mocha breve for Baz.

Baz smiles up at her. He’s gotten very friendly with her. “Good day, Ebb. How’s it going?”

Ebb shrugs. “Pretty okay. I sort of want some new dishware but I’m not sure I have the funds for it.”

“Well, Christmas is coming up. Maybe I’ll keep that in mind.”

Ebb laughs and ruffles Baz’s already messy hair. She’s very friendly with him by now. “Aw, you don’t have to do that, Baz. Sweet of you to say though. He’s certainly a keeper, Si.”

She winks at me before sauntering off. I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean. I flick my eyes over to Baz. He’s taking a sip from his overly large coffee cup. When he lowers it, there’s whipped cream on the tip of his long nose. I snort and giggle. Baz’s brow furrows.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, actually genuinely concerned. He’s always very concerned about his appearance. It’s funny, and kind of cute.

I reach out and use one finger to swipe the whipped cream off. His nose scrunches like an adorable child. I hold it for him to see.

“You’re making a mess,” I tease, then lick my finger. Baz’s eye go wide, and he might blush. It’s hard to tell sometimes, what with his complexion and being emotional display repulsed British gentry. I’m not sure why though. I just don’t like wasting food.

“Christ, Simon,” he chuckles, shaking his head. His eyes flick up to mine and he smirks. That expression makes my stomach do a lot of funny things. “Like you’re one to talk about messes," he says. "My kitchen is still recovering from your pizza debacle.”

“It turned out to be good frozen pizza though.”

“Yes, at the sacrifice of a clean oven.”

I shrug, reaching my foot out to tap his for emphasis. “I’ll destroy my own next time, alright?”

He goes a step further, tracing the toe of his Oxford on my bare ankle. It makes me jolt, but in a good way. Baz seems to have that effect on me.

“Hm, y’know, I haven’t been to your place yet. Invite me over for oven destroying pizza sometime?” His voice is smooth as butter. It makes my legs feel weak, even though I’m already sitting down. And he’s right, he hasn’t been over yet. It’s not because of anything, his place has always just been easier. That should be corrected.

“Yeah, sure,” I chirp, “I’d like that. Though my flatmate might interrogate you. She still isn’t sure she approves of you.”

Baz shrugs dismissively. “Understood. But I’m sure it’ll be fine. She’ll warm up to me. I’m very likable.”

I scoff. “And full of yourself.”

He pushes his foot until it’s fully under my jean cuff. I yelp  in surprise. “Got you to like me, didn’t I?”

Shit, why is my face so flushed? I try to use my book to cover it, but my eyes peek out over the top. Baz is still smirking, still slowly moving his shoe up and down my skin. It’s sort of hard to say no when he’s doing that. Bastard. “That’s true, I suppose,” I say shakily.

“Exactly.” He leans forward on the table, chin cradled in his palm. “Want to come over tonight? Fiona’s at Nicky’s again. Those two need to just move in together already.”

“Yeah, agreed. And I can come over as long as you help me revise for a midterm.”

“Very well,” he sighs dramatically. “If that’s the price I must pay for a good shag.”

And I thought my blush couldn’t get any worse. I use a hand to cover my bright red face. “Baz,” I giggle, “shut up.”

He chuckles and slowly peels my hand away. I’ve found his violin calluses feel weirdly wonderful on my skin. “I’ll help you, love, don’t worry.”

Fuck, he’s always so nice. Just so kind and helpful and fun to be around. He’s like Penny, I guess, but our dynamic doesn’t feel like me and Penny. Not better, just different. My heart and stomach don’t feel twisty around her. And I definitely don’t want to snog Pen silly. Baz is just different. Whatever we have is different. I don’t know what it is, but I like it. And I certainly don’t want to stop.

———————————————-

A week later, Baz is scheduled to come over. I’m trying to salvage my stupid homemade stupid pizza when there’s a knock at the door. I run over still wearing the apron and oven mitts as I open it. Baz is standing on the other side, gym/overnight bag slung over his shoulder. He blinks at me confused, eyes big behind his glasses. (He’s been wearing them more. That's good. He looks amazing, and he needs to see.)

“Hi,” I say breathlessly, kissing him hello by habit.

“Good evening, Snow,” he says. “Nice apron.”

I look down. Right, this is Pen’s “Snog the Chef” apron. Micah sent it to her as a joke. He made the false assumption she cooks enough to need one. Both of us usually cook from a box or order take away. I chuckle.

“Uh, yeah. Still trying to make supper. Come in, come in.”

I race back to the kitchen, leaving Baz in the living room. I can still see him through a small square space in the wall. (The previous tenant had a thing for cutting random holes in the wall.) He scans the room, taking in his surroundings.

“Hm,” he says thoughtfully. “Nice place.”

I laugh loudly so he can hear me. “You don’t have to be nice, y’know. I’m aware it’s gross. I tried to clean a bit.”

“I’m serious, it’s nice. Love all the Polaroid pictures. Is this blonde girl your roommate?”

“Uh, no, that’s Agatha. The other girl, Penelope, she’s my flatmate. We all went to high school together.”

“I see, that’s nice. You all look happy.”

I lean out the weird window hole. Baz is looking at the picture from the summer, when we all went to Agatha’s family beach house. I smile. That was a happy time.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “Summer before final year. Can’t tell Agatha was about to break up with me a few weeks later, huh?”

It’s a joke, but I immediately regret it. Baz tenses up. Shit, that’s a serious topic, and I shouldn’t talk about Agatha like that.

“There’s no bad blood though,” I say quickly. “Like, it sucked when we split up but it was for the best in the end. We’re way better as friends. She lives in California now. She skypes me and Pen a lot, tells us all about America and shit. I sent her a British flag for Christmas last year, and she sent me a California one.” I sigh, shaking my head. “I’m babbling, sorry, I’ll stop.”

Baz turns his head. He’s smiling, no anger or disappointment, thank God. “It’s fine, love, don’t worry. She sounds lovely. I’m not jealous. Unless I have a reason to be.”

His raised eyebrows and toothy grin tells me he’s joking. I chuckle. Why would he have a reason to be jealous anyway? I mean, Agatha’s pretty, but so is he. “No, you definitely have no reason. Maybe I’ll introduce you two sometime. You can compare expensive hair products.”

“Hey, you like my hair.”

“Yeah, but I’ve also seen how many bottles you have in your shower. And how many bottles did you bring with you tonight?”

Baz doesn’t answer. I snicker as I pull my pizza out of the oven. Well, it’s not much of a pizza anymore. Sort of a dough, cheese, and sauce liquid mess in a pan. I groan and lean my head on the cupboard over the oven.

“Trouble with supper, love?”

I look up. Baz is leaning in the window hole, arms crossed over the sill and head on his bent elbow. He looks nice like this, relaxed and all. Huh, he really is a lot less uptight than he was two months ago. That’s good, I suppose. I smile weakly.

“I think this pizza is even more of a disaster than the last one. And this time it’s completely inedible.”

He frowns sarcastically. “Aw, what a surprise.”

I take a mitt off and throw it at his stupid smug pretty face. “Fuck off, I tried!”

Baz doesn’t looked fazed by the glove projectile, just holding it as he smiles. “I know, darling, and you did your best. Now, shall I order take away?”

I sigh, shaking off the other mitt so they lay in a messy pile on the counter. “I guess so. But I’m paying for it. I was supposed to make you a nice supper, I should at least pay for the substitute.”

“Well, I certainly have no problem with that.”

I turn off the oven and take off the dumb apron. With heavy steps and hanging head, I go into the living room. Baz immediately reaches out and pulls me against him, hugging me close. I wrap my arms around his firm back, easily sinking into his embrace. He smells nice. Like cedar and bergamot, I think.

“Want to watch a movie?” he whispers, breath tickling my ear.

“Sure,” I mumble into his shoulder. “Do you like Pixar?”

He chuckles. It’s a really nice sound, washing over me like a warm, relaxing wave. “Yeah. Pixar is wonderful.”

We don’t move for a bit though. We just stay there, hugging in the middle of my living room. He’s a good hugger, so I don’t mind. I just close my eyes, breathe in his smell, and let his strong, firm arms hold me.

———————————————-

“Why does Buzz go still?” Baz asks. “He doesn’t think he’s a toy. Why would he pretend to be one when a person walks in?”

“Shhh.” I reach up to blindly hit his stupid smart arse mouth. “You’re ruining the movie.”

“I’m simply pointing out a flaw in the film’s plot.”

“Just shut up and watch, arsehole.”

Baz makes a displeased noise, but does thankfully shut up. Our half eaten take away pizza is still sitting on the coffee table. The sun has mostly set, the light of the telly the main source now. I’m junk food tired so I’ve ended up with my head in Baz’s lap. His legs are comfortable. And I like the way he strokes my hair. I could probably fall asleep like this if I wanted.

“Sorry again about supper,” I mumble into his thigh.

Baz hums softly, winding a finger around one of my curls. “It's fine, love. You made the effort, that's what counts. And I appreciate it.”

I hum, throwing an arm over his knees. “You’re nice.”

Bizarrely, he scoffs at that. “You’re the first person to say that, Snow. Most people say I’m rude and mean.”

“You're not, they're all wrong," I say immediately, almost angry for him.

He pauses for a moment, hand still in my hair. "You really think so?" he asks, voice slightly shaky.

"Yeah, of course. You tease me but you also made me supper and watched Doctor Who. That means a lot. You’re, like, snarky nice. Fuck, does that even make sense?”

Baz runs his thumb over the nape of my neck. “No, I get it. Thank you, darling, you’re incredibly sweet.” He brushes his long fingers against my ear. “Sometimes I wonder how I found you,” he sighs.

I chuckle, sound muffled by his trouser leg. “You ‘found me’ in a boring psych lecture, remember?”

“Yeah,” he whisper-laughs. “Glad I did though. Honestly...” He takes an audible breath, like he’s getting ready to jump off a cliff or something. “I think you’re the best thing to come out of moving to Watford.”

My mouth suddenly feels dry. And my heart is bruising my ribs it’s beating so hard. That was definitely one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. But it doesn’t feel like when Penny or Agatha or Mum are nice. It feels so...new. I wish there was a more eloquent word for it, for what I feel when he says something like that. It’s an all encompassing sensation I've never experienced before. Like a supernova in my brain and chest. I just can’t place it.

The end credit music starts playing. I turn my head back to the screen. “Oh hey, it’s done,” I say. “Wanna watch something else?”

I can’t see Baz’s face, but I feel him lean back against the sofa. “Sure. Anything in mind?”

“Actually, yeah, I've got something. You’ll like it.” I fumble for the remote, then start flipping through my Netflix list. I know it’s there... “Aha! This!” I highlight a movie I found yesterday. Baz leans forward with curiosity.

“A documentary on an Australian string quartet?” He chuckles. “Really?”

Shit, I thought he would like it because there are string instruments and stuff in it. But it’s not like every chef adores cooking shows. “S-Sorry, it was just an idea. We can watch something else.”

Baz puts an arm around my waist and squeezes my stomach tight. I immediately relax. “No, that wasn’t a discouragement. I’m very intrigued. I’m just surprised you’re offering to watch it. It’ll be quite dull for you.”

I shrug. “Eh, maybe. But you’ll like it, and I’m willing to try.”

Baz doesn’t answer. Well, not with words. His arm holds me even tighter, and he leans down to kiss my hair. His cool lips press lightly to my scalp. I can’t help the shudder it makes. When he pulls back, he goes back to to softly stroking my hair. I feel like I could melt into the couch.

“Put it on,” Baz sighs. “Try not to fall asleep, Snow.”

“I’ll do my best,” I say, meaning it genuinely.

So the movie is objectively boring for me, because I'm not a violin student, and I’m not a huge fan of documentaries period. But there are some good parts. I like the people, following their progression and lives and how their careers influence everything around them. Baz likes that too. Though he’s also fascinated by all the fancy instruments. I just think they’re all really pretty.

“Hey,” Baz asks, “where’s your flatmate?”

“Oh she’s-” The front door suddenly slams, making both of us jolt. A few footstep sounds later, Penny is standing right in front of us. “She’s right here. Hi, Pen.”

Penny is frozen. She blinks at us in complete silence for a few long seconds. I don’t know what’s so baffling. “Hi... What’s going on here?”

“Baz and I are watching a movie.” What’s going on with her? Pretty sure that was obvious.

She quirks an eyebrow. “So this is Baz?”

“Oh right.” I gesture to her. “Baz, this is Penelope Bunce.” I gesture to him. “Penny, this is Baz Grimm-Pitch.”

“Hello, Penelope," Baz says smoothly. "May I call you that?”

“Um, sure.”

“Wonderful. Pleasure to finally meet you.” He offers his hand like the gentleman he is.

Cautiously, Penny takes the handshake. “Same for me. Good to put a face to the name.”

“Likewise.”

Their hands fall. Penny has a weird expression on her face. Her eyes keep flicking between me and Baz, looking positively perplexed. I don’t get it. We’re just watching a movie. She said it was okay to bring Baz over, but it still must be weird for her to have someone new around. She doesn’t like new people.  But Baz is going to be hanging around with me indefinitely, so they should probably get more comfortable with each other.

“Wanna watch and eat with us?” I ask. “Pizza is lukewarm but still good.”

She seems even more confused, head pulling back and mouth twisting for a moment. “Uh, sure, if that’s alright with both of you.” She looks pointedly at Baz.

“It’s perfectly fine with me. Snow’s the one taking up the entire sofa.”

I scoff and smack his knee. “Fuck off.” I swing my legs dramatically, putting myself upright. It makes my vision spin a bit, so I fall against Baz, head on his shoulder. I don’t think he minds though. “There, happy?”

He chuckles and throws an arm around me, pulling us even closer together. “Positively elated, Snow.” He presses a sloppy wet kiss to my cheek. I make a disgusted noise as I wipe it off.

“Arsehole.” I kiss his cheek too. Fair’s fair. I look up, and Penny’s eyes are incredibly wide. I gesture at her. “C’mon, Pen, there’s room now.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “Alright then."

She sits down, but closer to the other end. Weird. I try to make more room, putting my legs over Baz’s, pressing against him. But she doesn’t move any closer. Actually, she moves further away. Weird, but I get wanting your own space. She is watching the movie intently though.

“This is good,” she says through her pizza. “That violin is incredible.”

“It’s called the Gibson ex-Huberman Stradivarius,” Baz interjects. “Made by Antonio Stradivari of Cremona in 1713. Many say his string instruments are the greatest ever made. He’s estimated to have made 960 violins, 650 of which are still around. What I wouldn’t give to play a Stradivarius.”

“Right," Penny chuckles. "Simon said you were a violinist.”

“Yup, he is,” I say. “Which makes him a total music nerd.”

Baz flicks my far ear then kisses the other. “Says the Doctor Who nerd. And not just music. I enjoy history and English language too.”

“Hey, so does Penny! She never shuts up about that book about working people.”

“‘The Making of The English Working Class’ by EP Thompson, Si,” Penny says with some exasperation. “It’s an interesting read.”

Baz makes a contemplative sound. He’s good at those. “I’ll have to look it up. Shall we compare notes sometime?”

Penny turns her head. She seems to be examining Baz over her spectacles, brown eyes moving up and down over him. She does that a lot, examines people, like me the first day we met all those years ago. She’s assessing him, figuring out whether he’s worth her time. She decided I was. I can only hope she likes him

“I’ll think about it,” she says.

I breathe out a small sigh of relief. They get along, thank God. Neither of them notice the sigh, but they do notice the loud yawn I can’t help afterwards.

“Tired, Snow?” Baz teases.

“No,” I grumble. I rub my aching eye, which doesn’t help my case.

Baz sighs, then shoves off my legs and stands over me, all tall and looming and handsome. He offers his hand. “Then let’s go to bed. I have an early class tomorrow anyway.”

“Okay.” I take his hand and he hoists me to my feet. I’m a bit wobbly, but Baz keeps me steady with an arm around my waist. Damn, I’m tired. “Can you put away the pizza, Pen? I’ll clean up the rest in the morning.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” she says absentmindedly, already flipping to her own show.

“G’night, Pen.”

“Night Si. And Baz.”

“Goodnight, Penelope. Lovely to meet you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

I sigh again, because she sounds genuine, and I don’t need two of my best friends feuding. There’s no need for unnecessary drama.

Baz and I wash up quickly. (He hogs the mirror again.) I throw on my usual baggy shirt and sweats. I assumed he brought his ridiculous posh silk pyjamas, but to my surprise he takes one of my Watford sweatshirts and a matching set of grey trackies. I look at him with utter amusement.

“Really?” I chuckle.

“I left my bag in the living room,” he says nonchalantly. “And I don’t feel like going to get it.” His pretty face become nervous for a moment, looking down at the hardwood floor. “Is it alright?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” I curl my fingers in his elastic waistband, making him stumble closer. “You look good. You should wear my clothes more often.”

He chuckles, leaning down to capture my lips. I sigh and melt into it. Baz holds my face, slowly running his finger over my cheek. I encircle his waist. Warmth spreads from my mouth and through my entire body. Damn. No matter how brief or how long, how fast or slow, Baz's kisses are always pretty damn great.

He pulls back slightly, leaving the smallest space between us. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he whispers against my skin. “Come on, now. I’m tired and so are you. Let’s sleep.”

I yawn right on cue. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Baz pulls me towards the bed. He lays down first, putting his glasses on the nightstand, and I follow, head pillowed on his strong chest. His arms wrap around me tightly. I like when he does that. Baz always makes me feel better just by holding me. How the hell does that work? Why does he feel so unlike any friend I've had before? I don't know. And I don't care, so long as he just keeps holding me.

“Night,” I mumble.

“Night, love,” he sighs.

I drift off with his left hand in my hair, his right tracing circles on my back, and his heartbeat right under my ear.

———————————————-

“Snow? Snow. Simon.”

I groan at the voice disturbing the my sleep. A rough, callused hand shakes my arm. Of course I know who it is, so I don’t even open my eyes.

“What?” I grumble

“I have to go,” Baz whispers. “I’ve got class until seven. Lunch at Goat tomorrow?”

“M-hm.”

“And are you still staying at my place Friday?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you understand anything I just said?”

I roll over, bleary eyes opening slightly. The dawn light doesn’t hurt my eyes too much. Baz is a blur of black, reddish-gold, and grey.

“Goat tomorrow, your flat Friday,” I mumble. “Got it.”

There’s white in the blur now, what I assume are his teeth in a wide grin. He leans forward. “Wonderful. See you later, darling.”

“Bye, love.”

He presses a kiss to my hairline. Even half asleep, I can feel his cool lips on my forehead and the smell of all his fancy products waft up my nose. I listen as his shoes click out the door.

I think I fall asleep again, because when I wake up it’s a lot brighter outside. I groan at the burning sunlight and bring the sheet over my head. I don’t have class until two so I don’t have to get up just yet. I just lay in bed, trying to block out the day. And under those sheets, it hits me that I called Baz ‘love’ for the first time. Huh. Guess his use of cute nicknames is rubbing off on me. It’s new, but so is a lot of stuff we’re doing, and I’ve like it all so far. I think I like this too.

My stomach growls like an angry lion. Guess that’s my cue to get up. I throw off my sheet and immediately shiver. Fuck, it’s chilly. I look over and see that Baz left my sweatshirt folded on my dresser, so I slip it on. I press it to my nose. It still sort of smells like him, a gorgeous mix of his cologne and fancy products. That makes me smile like an idiot, for whatever reason.

I saunter into the kitchen. Penny doesn’t have any class, so she’s sitting at the dining room table with a bunch of textbooks spread out. It’s like the school library threw up on it. The coffee in the pot is old, but I don’t feel like making a new one. So I pour it out and put it in the microwave.

“That’s disgusting, Si,” Penny sing songs.

“Shut up, Pen,” I reply with my most chipper voice. The microwave beeps. I drink from the mug and promptly spit the whole thing out in the sink. Oh Christ, it is disgusting.

“Told you so.”

I glare at her through the kitchen wall hole as I pour the coffee out. I start setting up the kettle for tea instead. Screw coffee. Baz says tea is better for you anyway.

“So,” she says very matter of factly, staring at me through our lovely wall hole, “Baz.”

She doesn’t continue. Nothing to explain what the fuck she’s talking about. She just looks at me with narrow eyes while twirling a pencil in her hand. I blink at her, silence hanging between us, and still nothing.

“Yeah, Baz,” I chuckle.

“You like him?”

“Uh, yeah. He’s cool.”

“Is he nice?”

“Yeah. Well, sorta.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Sort of?”

I shrug, scratching the back of my neck. “He’s nice in the important ways, y’know? Helps me out when I need it and treats me well. But he also teases me. In fun though. I tease him too, and I try to be nice. I hope he thinks I’m nice too.”

The kettle whistles. I get out my Adventure Time mug and a peppermint tea bag. When I look back at Penny, she’s twisting her lips, brow furrowed together, pencil tapping on the table rhythmically. That’s her concerned friend look. She always looks like this when I make a major life decision, or when I attempt cooking.

“And, you’re happy, right?” she asks carefully.

I blink at her in confusion again. That’s a weird question. I’ve been depressed before, sure, but I haven’t lately. So I’m not sure why Penny is concerned with my emotional state. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She chuckles and her concerned look goes away. That’s a relief. I don’t like making Penny worried. “Alright then. As long as you’re happy.”

“Okay,” I chuckle, laughing at the absurdity of this.“Fun talk, Pen. Enjoy studying.”

“Will do. Get to class on time!”

I scoff, walking towards my room with lovely steaming tea in hand. “If I got to class on time, I wouldn’t be Simon Snow Salisbury.”

Penny sighs with exasperation. Now that’s a sound I’ve heard since high school. It’s become weirdly comforting in a way. Penny’s always going to be a bit frustrated with me, and she still loves me anyway.

———————————————-

“Simon, what are you doing this weekend?”

I look up from my fancy grilled cheese, mouth still full. Baz has finished his panini and is now in his “villain position” again. One long leg over the other, bony elbows propped on his armrests, fingers pressed together. It’s still half intimidating-half badass. I swallow my food. Don’t want to be rude with him.

“This weekend?” I ask. “Uh, nothing. I don’t have anything planned. Why?”

He drums his fingers together slowly. Total Bond villain. “Well, I have a proposition for something we could do.”

That makes me put down my food and shift in my chair. “Oh?”

“Yes.” He leans forward, elbows on the table. “You see, my parents wanted me to come home for the whole break next week. But I couldn’t do that with my practice schedule. I still want to see them though, so I’m driving up for family dinner on Sunday.”

“Okay...”

“And the thing is...” He drums his fingers on the wooden table and chews at his lip. “I’ve mentioned you to them, and they’re wondering if you’d like to come up with me.”

I nearly drop my sandwich. I stare at Baz silently for an inappropriate amount of time. “Your parents," I say cautiously, "want me to come over for dinner?”

He nods slowly, face pinched together in nervousness. “Yes. They’re both eager to meet you, though they may not show it outwardly. But please, love, don’t feel pressured. I told them it might be too soon for this but they can be...insistent. It’s completely up to you though. They’ll survive if you say no.” He rubs his nose under his glasses. “Sorry, this is just a whole mess. I thought about not asking but I wanted to give you the choice.”

“O-Okay.” I nod, like a very slow moving bobble head. Wow, this is just a lot. I haven’t met a friend’s parents since Agatha. And we were dating, which made it very scary. This seems even scarier though. My heart is pulsing too fast. Fuck, why does this feel so intimidating?

Baz grabs my hand, thumb tracing the back of it. It immediately calms me down. “Don’t panic, love, no matter what decision you make I’ll understand. It’s not like we’ll stop speaking if you don’t come to dinner with my pushy, posh parents.” He squeezes my hand. “It’s up to you, love.”

Right, up to me... Fuck. Do I want to meet Baz’s posh family? Even though it’s scary? I mean, I guess it would be nice. They’re probably smart like Baz, cultured too, all that. It sounds intimidating, and it was with Baz at first, but I learned. And maybe I can learn with his family too. I'd like to know more about Baz, be part of another aspect of his life. That's what friends do, right?

“Okay,” I say, “I’d like to come.”

Baz’s eyebrows shoot up, his mouth falling open slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah. It sounds fun, and I’d like to meet your parents. If they’re anything like you, they’ll be posh, really smart, and weirdly nice.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Well, that’s one way to see them.”

I giggle too, leaning closer to him over the the small table. “Okay, good to know. Anything I should bring?”

“Well, Sunday nights are our ‘fancy dinners’, so we dress up. You’ll have to wear a suit.”

I frown. “I don’t own a suit.”

He nods like some thoughtful scholar. “Hm, alright. Well, I’ve got one you could borrow. Is that alright?”

“Sure. If it fits me, Mr. Tall and Lanky.” I poke his muscular shoulder for emphasis, making him laugh.

“You’re not that much shorter than me, don’t worry. So we’ll go up Sunday afternoon and leave Monday morning. I’ll certainly be drinking, so I don’t want to drive home the night of.”

“Very responsible, love, very responsible.”

Baz chuckles softly, and I do too. He looks me in the eye. All I see is kindness. Who the hell ever said he was an arsehole? He’s actually incredible.

“You sure you’re alright with this?” he asks, his voice still concerned.

I adjust our hands, so we’re smooth palm to scratchy palm, and smile as big as I can. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Baz smiles back. Not as big, but it’s still kind and calm. He leans forward and kisses my cheek, whispering in my ear. “Wonderful. Can’t wait.”

And weirdly enough, neither can I.

———————————————-

AN: So the documentary is real and called "Highly Strung", and the book Penny mentions is real too. Hope you all liked this. I like writing this fluffy definitely-not-a-relationship haha. Tomorrow, "adventure" :)

[skruffie]

It’s not the anniversary yet, but it IS National Siblings Day and I conveniently forget that this is even a thing until I go on Facebook or Twitter or something and remember. This year is a big milestone for my family because it is the 18th anniversary, which marks a passage of time from now to forever where she has been gone longer than she was alive.

I saw this thing on Facebook about grief, and it went something like grief is this hole, and you can try to fill the hole with whatever you can, but nothing fills it. It’s bottomless. It seems like your entire life gets sucked into it, but eventually as the years go on... the hole doesn’t get smaller. Your life gets bigger, and it grows around it. The hole is always there, but there’s more expanse around it as you move through each anniversary, each holiday, each milestone. It’s similar to describing grief as “it doesn’t get easier, you just get better at coping”.

(This is going to be very long and probably very sad because I talk at great length about her life and death)

I tried to write about a little bit about Nicole on Twitter today, but my initial post mentioned the word “cancer” which caught the attention of this fucking asshole that was advertising faith healing on his timeline. That dulled my grief a bit but it sure made me mad.

Trying to remember things.

We were seven years apart so we never really had a sibling rivalry or anything. I actually looked up to her so much--she was like a teenage rock star to my child self. She loved writing and wrote lots of poetry, got published in an independent zine by age nine, and through her adolescence was a bit of a grunge punk. She played piano and bass. She wore combat boots. Occasionally she dressed up with the full make-up and everything and called them her “pretty days”. She had a lock of hair in front of her face she kept in a small braid. She did blogging before the word “blog” even existed by maintaining an email list of friends and family, and she would email her updates directly to them. She coded her own websites and experimented with graphic design. She did photography. She’s why I love nail polish and tarot cards and Doc Martens--her own boots had navy blue laces with suns and moons on them. She had a huge, huge crush on Dave Navarro. She would buy hostess cupcakes for the kids at school who didn’t have food, and she kicked her own friends out of our house when they tried to bring alcohol to her party.

Nicole grew up with the brunt of our parents’ addictions before I came along. My mom (seen with baby Nicole in one of the photos above) and dad were only 19 when they had her and got married. When she was younger, they actually split up for a while and I think my great-grandma helped take care of her. My parents both went to rehab, got back together, and then had me, so... I was the baby that grew up in a sober house for a while at least. My parents still argued and it bothered me a lot when I got a bit older, so she’d come get me and take me to her room and bring chips and bean dip, and I’d have a safe place to cry.

...That’s a thought I just had right there. After she died, I didn’t really have that same kind of shield from my parents fighting (which was a lot worse after her death--a lot of couples who lose a child end up divorcing and my parents came close), which I think is probably what made the emotional neglect worse.

I don’t remember the exact progression of her cancer, but things started getting noticeable when she started developing night-blindness. I think at the time there were some doctors that didn’t believe she could be getting cancer so getting the insurance to cover tests and treatment was a fight every single time. A tumor started growing in her left arm, and the diagnosis was finally clear: rhabdomyosarcoma. She asked the doctors after her diagnosis if it was genetic, because even after that, she thought of me. (Thankfully, it isn’t. It was just a stupid, cruel twist of the universe.)

She got chemo, started to go into remission, and eventually it came back. Nicole then got a stem cell transplant when it was getting worse--more tumors, etc etc. I had met with a grief counselor at the hospital once or twice during this time period, even before we knew for sure it was terminal, because I was 10 going on 11 and needed someone to help me process and also like... kinda pay attention to me? Admitting that feels weird, but I was just a kid.

The day that I found out that the stem cell transplant didn’t work is probably almost worse than the day she died for me. They brought in a minister and we sang “Amazing Grace” and I watched her be baptized, and while she was being anointed, I kept asking everyone “Why is she being baptized? Why??? Why?! We’re Wiccan!!” Which was true. Nicole also underwent a Wiccaning around this time. Everyone was ignoring my questions, until finally it was time. She told me the stem cell transplant had not been successful and broke down crying, and I immediately understood what that meant, and I started screaming and crying. I started screaming to see the grief counselor, and I had to leave the hospital room to go with the counselor down to my favorite spot on the hospital campus.

Fuck. I hate Easter. I fucking hate Easter. It was around Easter time and this holiday plays a role in this awful memory of mine: at the hospital, some very kind person made little easter baskets for all the kids that were on the juvenile cancer ward, and I even got to get one even though I wasn’t a patient. I was starting to open mine but Nicole just looked at it. She said “Why do I get one? Why do I get one when I’m going to--” and probably started crying. I put my basket aside because the thrill of like... easter chocolate or whatever the fuck was gone. I don’t think I’ve been able to enjoy this holiday since.

Make A Wish was involved at some point, obviously. NIcole’s original wish was to meet Tori Amos, but her management team responded with “Uhhh, Tori doesn’t really do that” which was disappointing at first. (A few years later, a couple of Nicole’s friends saw T live in concert and met her at a meet and greet. They told her Nicole’s story and I guess she had no idea actually, so I believe it was a decision firmly on the management’s side.). The next wish had to be rushed, and Nicole realized that she wanted to go to prom. The actual senior prom for her high school was going to be too far out in advance with her surviving that long, so Make A Wish threw together a special prom just for her and about 150+ attendees.

The prom was held at Newport Harbor on a yacht. Rebecca Schoenkopf of Wonkette, known in 2001 as CommieGirl for the OC Weekly, met with Nicole once prior to this and attended as a prom guest to write about it. Naturally, Nicole was crowned prom queen and when she stood up to receive the crown, it was something magical. She had spent most of the evening in and out of sleep from being so ill and from the medications she was on.

When she was dying, she wanted to be at the hospital. I stayed at my grandparent’s house... probably for a couple days, I don’t actually remember how long it was, and my parents were there for her. I believe she died in the early hours of the morning on April 30th, two days short of her 18th birthday. I had a moment that morning that I consider a small blessing, which is that I found out she was gone before anyone had actually told me, and it gave me a brief reprise to just be by myself while I gathered up my will to go downstairs and face my parents. I had been in the process of going downstairs, and I saw my mom come out of the bathroom, and that was it. That was all I needed to see.

She had them write a letter as her own personal message to me. Two days later for her 18th birthday, my cousin sent us 18 lavender balloons. I don’t think we had her memorial until the 11th of May and I know this because it was the same day Douglas Adams--one of Nicole’s favorite authors--died. We joked that she took him with her. Nicole was cremated, and I do remember there was at least one funny moment that morning as we were getting out of the car. My mom handed me the wooden box that had Nicole’s cremains in it and said “Here, hold your sister for a sec.” We got a touch of that grave humor in my family.

One of the hardest things about this... hole of grief, is aging. My parents are in their mid 50s now, and I’m going to be 30 next year. I don’t have any other siblings to help take care of my parents. My mom rather flippantly says “Oh, put us in a nursing home”, but that just feels so bleak. I don’t have my sister with me to help with my wedding, to meet Zack or any of my friends, to talk to about our past and our future. She’s not here to kick ass and build amazing apps or tear down the patriarchy or be on the ground reporting the latest news break. There’s so many milestones I’ve already crossed without her but I am always going to miss her.

Bon swayr, ma souer.

[rahirah]

via Barb's Place (again stolen from shadowkat) 1. How would you describe your current fashion style? Uh... no clue. I decided some time back that I had two clothing objectives: I wanted to feel comfortable, and I wanted to look decent. There are a lot of looks I like that just don't work on me. Instead of focusing on what I couldn't wear, I decided to concentrate on finding things I liked that I DID look good in, and building a style around that. So I went through my closet and got rid of a bunch of things that I'd bought because they looked good on the rack, and started replacing them with things that looked good on me. I take some inspiration from soft butch/tomboy-ish styles, but with a lot of modifications. What it boils down to is, in summer I wear jeans and assorted short-sleeved shirts or tank tops, and in the winter I wear jeans and long-sleeved shirts with a sweater or a jacket or sometimes a vest if I want to be fancy. Boots/sneakers/sandals as weather dictates, no high heels except for costuming. 2. What’s your favorite decade for fashion? 90s-present, if I bother to think about it? The 80s were fun in some respects, but I couldn't pull those looks off then, and they're vaguely appalling now. The 70s are right out. 3. Formal or casual? Casual. 4. Thrift store, boutique, or online? Thrift store, occasional online. 5. Do you like to accessorize? Earrings always, wedding ring and another similar ring inherited from my father's family always, occasionally a necklace or bracelet if I'm dressing up. I use a belt with pants that will slide off my hips if I don't wear one, and that's about it. 6. What piece of clothing do you spend your money on the most? What piece do I spend money on the most, or what piece do I spend the most money on? It's two different things. I buy pants and shirts most often, but the individual pieces I've spent the most on have probably been either shoes, or my Elaborate Handmade Steampunk Hat. 7. Do you wear hats? I should, because AZ is Skin Cancer Central, but I have a small head, and so I have a hard time finding cheap ones that fit, and if I wear one too long, I tend to get a headache. I have some knit caps that I wear in the winter to keep my head warm, one good leather cowboy hat (they kick you out of Arizona if you don't own at least one cowboy hat) and a sort of safari-dude-looking sun hat. And two incredibly awesome steampunk hats for costuming. 8. What is your opinion on wearing socks and sandals together? If it's cold enough to wear socks, I won't be wearing sandals. If you like 'em, though, go for it. 9. What colors do you like to wear? Blues, greys, reds/pinks/burgundies, red-toned browns, black, white, ivory as long as it's not too yellowy. Purples are meh. Avoid orange/yellow/green like the plague. 10. What fashions do you hate? I don't really have a fashion that I hate. That's expending entirely too much energy on fashion. If I don't like it, I just don't wear it. 11. What do you think of body piercing? Neutral. I don't like pain, and I doubt I'd ever have anything but my ears pierced. Besides, I have vague allergy/sinus issues a lot of the time, and having a nose piercing of any kind when you have to blow your nose a lot seems ill-advised. And anything else tenderer, imagining the pain makes my tits want to retract inside my body. (That said, I do want to get a cartilage piercing in one or both ears eventually.) 12. Do you like dyed hair? I don't like dying my hair to hide grey, and I refuse to do that. I don't mind dying it now and then for fun effects. 13. Can you wear heels? What is the highest heel you can wear? I can wear 1-2 inch boot heels with no problem. I don't like wearing anything much higher than that. I have a few 3-4 inch chunky heeled shoes, but I wear them very rarely, usually only for costuming purposes. Stillettoes, no way. 14.Do you have any experience with makeup? Tried messing with it a couple of times in my late teens/20s, decided it was pain in the ass, chucked it and never looked back. 15. Have you ever worn a uniform or traditional clothes? Choir robes. A Girl Scout uniform. That's about it. 16. What’s your favorite piece of clothing? The leather jackets I've got that it's too hot here to wear. :cries: 17. Have you ever had to wear something you didn’t like? Who hasn't? I think the thing that's stuck in my head most over the years was a pair of second-hand Oxfords that one of my aunts sent Mom in the yearly Big Box Of Hand-Me-Downs that we got from our older cousins. They were too big for me, nothing like anyone else at school wore, and heavy and clunky and uncomfortable. I hated them. Mom loooooved them, and couldn't understand why I didn't want to wear them. 18. How do you feel about wearing fur? I can't afford fur, but honestly, I love the look and feel of it. I'd never buy anything endangered, but I'd be fine with stuff like hair-on hides where the animal's being killed for food anyway. 19. Do you prefer simple or detailed outfits? Simple for everyday, but I don't mind detailed for special occasions. 20. How often do you wear jewelry? Earrings and two rings, almost always, anything else, rarely. 21. Do you have any souvenir clothing from trips or concerts? A couple of t-shirts. 22. Do you paint your nails? Very rarely. I'm not very good at it. That would improve with practice, but I don't like the feel of polish on my nails. It makes my fingers feel heavy. 23. What are your favorite pair of shoes (add a photo if possible)? A pair of vintage Doc Martens. 24. Do you carry a bag, backpack, purse, or something else? I have a leather messenger bag type thing, a backpack, and some smaller purses. Depends on how much I'll be carrying and how fancy the occasion is. 25. What does your hair look like right now? Very short, bleached on top. In fact, if I had to pick THE most important fashion thingy not to cut corners on, it would be get a good haircut. It is SO worth spending a little extra to go to someone who really knows what they're doing. And don't be afraid to lay down the law about what you want, either. 26. Have you worn something you or someone you know has made? Yes. My mother and grandmother made a lot of our play clothes when we were small. And I've made a lot of costumes over the years, and a few regular pieces of clothing. 27. Have you made any clothes/ jewelry? Yes. I was into beading for awhile and made a lot of necklaces and earrings. I still have a few of the necklaces. I've also made lots of costumes over the years, and a few regular pieces of clothing. 28. What are your thoughts on perfume/cologne? Neutral. I don't wear it myself, and I have a very poor sense of smell, so when people describe a wild profusion of scent notes they get from a perfume, all I can do is say, "Uh... sweet, I guess?" 29. What do you wear to go swimming? A swimsuit. 30. What would be your ideal outfit? Jeans, Doc Martens, long sleeved shirt with a vest, leather jacket, maybe a belt, earrings. I can only wear this for like three weeks in the middle of winter. :P comments