#the conversation. like.. you can tell your neighbour to piss off. i promise

[fingertipsmp3]

Okay I really hate to say it but TS4 is actually kind of growing on me

[zarnzarn]

Stolitz fic rec!!

||

I'm going to just drop my favorite stolitz fics here.

They run at night by @wearemisfortune

Blitzo is always moving because when his body stops, his mind races. This almost always leads to a terrible fucking idea.

Tonight is no different—but the result will be.

-lovely angst, lovely climax, and it captures Blitz's line of thinking in a serious tone but in a way still feels authentic to the character. And I'm ALWAYS a sucker for the sheer unconditional trust trope.

Junctures by @sluttycrimehat

To everything, there is a season.

-I still am in complete awe of how the author managed to fit so much in such little time. The bit at the end always fucking gets me, I love it so MUCH.

The last general by @curtailed

It's in a month after, with Stolas spent and lying on his side, that Blitzo finally musters up the courage to tell him.

-Hello??? BEAUTIFUL post-harvest moon fic, wonderful vibes, love how well they know each other in this one, the trust is amazing. Love it.

You got everything that I want by @bipridemoth

Stolas can’t recall a time where “love” wasn’t synonymous with “pain” for him.

With Blitzo, it’s not love. So, there’s no pain. Stolas doesn’t let there be pain, at least not emotionally, the physical pain is something he quite enjoys. When Blitzo leaves after their monthly night together, he doesn’t allow himself to feel pain, only anticipation of the next time. He likes that there’s always a next time, even though that’s because of his active incentive more than anything else. But that’s alright, he doesn’t want Blitzo to come see him without an incentive. He deserves favors in turn for what he’s giving Stolas.

-Stolas angst!!!! The angst really is delicious in this one, with just as nice of a happy ending. Blitz is confident about the relationship, which is Wonderful to read and the "I know where this is going" segment had me in TEARS.

Between fairy tales and realities by @coloringthegreyscale

Blitzo's a complicated imp and Striker and Stolas accept that. But what happens when the two worlds he's made for himself collide together for one night? Well...

-Okay, so yes, this is striker/blitz/stolas, but it's so good. All three of them have a lovely dynamic, managing to work out somehow, with powerful Stolas, wonderful Blitz and a HILARIOUS Striker. Go read the series, it's a lot of fun and has many cute interactions that made me smile.

The look by @seireileafy

Blitz has been noticing a change in Stolas.

-It's such a CUTE drabble, I adore when one person can tell the other is pining for them, and the LAST LINE FUCKING GETS ME EVERY TIME-

Instead I made my bed with apathy by @thebooklord15

Just like every night before this one, Blitzo glared at the form next to him, already lulled into the bliss of slumber. He had never meant for things to turn out this way-he’d gotten the grimoire already, he didn’t need this man and from the way Stolas treated him it was clear he did not need the imp either.

And yet.

-Jcjdkafj this one is so GOOD I love blitz being pissed off yet too deep in to stop, and like I've said for others already THAT LAST LINE, PLEASE-

Call and response by anon

It was a love story, maybe.

-short but deliciously angsty, with some beautiful imagery, really nice dialogue, and time-doesn't-exist-in-this-motel-room vibes. Love it.

Shovel proof by @kereea

Octavia tries to give Blitzo the shovel talk. He decides to help with that.

-FUCKING cute, love the Octavia/Blitz dynamic, and it has snappy fun dialogue!! Really sweet.

Reaching out, touching me, touching you by @allmightshipserasermic

Stolas hasn’t been able to preen sufficiently in quite awhile, since Stella refuses to do it for him anymore. Blitzo offers to help.

-PREENING FIC is there anything more I have to say?

The skin you could have by @coloringthegreyscale

Stolas catches Blitzo staring and it leads to some talk, some magic, and a little bit of fun.

-Again, BEAUTIFUL dynamic between the two, lots of angsty tenderness, and lovely body imagery.

Different shapes by @sirdust

“Before the exorcist, he taketh the image and shape of a man.”

Blitz catches a glimpse of Stolas’ human form.

-okay, practically a direct opposite of the previous fic, but SO GOOD, I can't describe it. Love the imagery and their comfortable relationship.

A helluva mess by @stratumgermanitivum

It’s not like Stolas isn’t a hot piece of ass, because he is.

And it’s not like Blitzo’s blind or anything, because he isn’t.

It’s just that there’s pleasure, and then there’s business, and never the twain shall meet. (Unless he finally gets Moxx on board with that threeway, in which case, Blitzo fully intends to christen every damn surface of the office except his precious Loony’s desk.)

-AMAZING, love the pining and denial on both sides it's so great especially since you can tell both sides know that they've messed up. Again, LAST LINE!!

Eat the whole cake (it's what you deserve) by @okoyik

"His Highness is on the phone for you, sir," Moxxie says.

Blitzo makes a face. "Who?"

"Stolas," Moxxie supplies, as if that's supposed to help Blitzo understand. His expression is surely one of complete confusion as he stares at the other imp.

"Who the fuck is Stolas?" Blitzo asks slowly, racking his brain for a face to put to the name.

-

Blitzo's memory starts to slip, and all he knows is he needs that owl that seems to haunt his nightmares to stay away.

-HELLO it's only on one out of four chapters for now but it's already SO GOOD I can't WAIT for the rest!!!

Stand tall, but your hands are shaking by @remymorton

It’s been a month since the Harvest Moon festival. Another full moon night arrived, and after that... Blitz ... He's not well.

-wordless cute comfort, truly very sweet, I love it.

Palaces and souvenirs by @cloudysonder

So Stolas is objectively. Objectively. Attractive. Kinda soft-looking, sometimes. Pretty. Whatever. Fuckin’ whatever. That’s always been a thing. Blitzo knew that, Stolas definitely knew that-- whatever.

"This is not," Blitzo thinks, sounding a little bit desperate even to himself, "some sort of revelation."

His flicks of the lighter get a little more unstable, a little more frustrated.

A clawed hand reaches over and takes hold of the lighter, lighting Blitzo’s cigarette with practiced ease, as if he’d done the same thing a thousand times before (He has, Blitzo realizes).

“Silly Blitzy,” he giggles quietly, giving Blitzo a soft pat on the head before curling up beside him, stretching one last time before closing his eyes to sleep.

Blitzo feels warm.

"This," Blitzo tells himself, and it sounds like a command, "will not be a problem."

-I saw the start of this fic on Twitter and have been following it religiously ever since. It's really a gorgeous fic, three chapters up, with the promise of a Great slow burn, fun dialogue and Octavia & Blitz bonding. The level of denial Blitz is in even as he moves comfortably around every aspect of Stolas' life cracks me tf up.

Can't by @hazbincalifornia

Blitzo realizes he feels something something that he doesn't want to feel. This was supposed to be simple.

-feelings realization fic, wonderful, amazing, lovely, also the exact same way I realized I was gay, funnily enough (girl fell asleep in my lap and I was like oh. Oh fuck.)

Too late to stop by @malkaviancake

Stolas spends some time with his thoughts, realizing that his feelings for Blitzo aren't as one sided as he presumed.

-GORGEOUS vocab, I'm truly very obsessed with it. Like most of these stories, LAST LINE!!!!

Itchy with want, thin on sleep by me

It happens in parts- both falling in love and having his eyes opened.

-I will,, finish this one day, but for now here's a few in between moments before they have The Conversation.

Heaven in hiding by me

Their nights together are good, they always are, both of their tastes lining up to be shockingly compatible, but on the days where they end early and they get to spend some extra time cleaning up in comfortable silence or playful banter- and Blitz would rather take a bullet than admit this out loud- but those nights are pretty great too.

-AFTERCARE FIC, I had to write an aftercare fic ft. Good dom Blitz, Stolas taking care of him in return and a comfortable relationship that they both know is going to cause Problems in the future :)

Love in the bones and sinews of this curse by me

Five times Stolas and Blitz needed the grimoire to break a curse + one time they didn't.

-self explanatory. I tried to make it as funny as possible, everyone bickers a lot and Blitz brings Stolas flowers and gifts, what more could you need?

Life is a curse (love makes it worse) by me

"Alright!" Blitz says, clapping his hands together, "Weapons out, and-"

Half pull out some gun or the other, but half just look at him blankly. Blitz wishes for death.

"Save me from this family," He mutters under his breath, "Okay. Take these then." He passes out the few weapons he'd brought along with him and doesn't ask if they know how to use them because if he hears a no, he's giving up and going back home. "Stick close and talk loudly so the others can hear us. Let's go."

They move out, Blitz taking the lead and the rest forming a circle close behind him, starting up a loud conversation about the neighbour's garden. It gives him enough time to wonder exactly what the fuck he's doing here, in a nightmare world with a bunch of pretentious snobs, searching for his stupid Ars Goetia boyfriend, instead of sleeping in his nice lumpy bed back at home.

-a sequel to the previous fic!!! I had to write some Octavia and Blitz bonding, and accidentally added in a bunch of teenage imps who work for Stolas who imprint on Blitz immediately. And there's Eldritch Stolas, protective boyfriends and found family!!! The whole shebang!!!

This ended up being Much longer than I'd expected, but genuinely every fic up there is really good, go check em out!!!!

[asset35-maya]

I am sleepy but I gotta make a request before the busy tomorrow so 2 things on my mind! Sleepy and the 'oh my god they were roomates' vine xD with any characters and aus I love everything you write anyways xD Happy timezones and best vibes your way >^<!! 💖💞💕💕

Oh my god, they were roommates…

//

“The rental market in Detroit is absolute shit! How dare these bloodsuckers charge such high rates for the most under-developed properties! This city’s going to the dogs!”

“Uh-huh.”

“You have to pay your own weight in gold just to live in a shoebox for a year. Nonsense!”

“Uh…”

“Are you even listening to me, Tina!

Tina?

Goddamnit Tina!”

Gavin thumped his fist on her desk, but Tina’s eyes barely flicked up from her phone.

“Oh my god, you sound like my grandpa…”

Gavin turned red and his brain buzzed with a thousand colourful retorts. He was just about to pick one when Tina stopped scrolling and turned her phone screen towards him.

CYBERSCALIA @ NEW JERICHO

The suburban paradise for executive androids and humans alike. Located 25 minutes drive from downtown Detroit, with a full amenities.

Gavin’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He balked at her.

“You’re joking? How could I possibly…?”

“Get with the times, boomer…”

Tina lazily skimmed her thumb over the screen. The webpage promised plenty of greenery, good infrastructure and modest but spacious rooms. The extremely reasonable price tag was Gavin’s dream come true. He’d spent weeks apartment hunting in the wake of an early lease termination by his cantankerous landlord. Gavin knew he’d never find a better deal.

“Shit, this is so good, T! Why the phck does it have to be in that- that place!”

His friend arched a sceptical eyebrow.

“What place?”

“The Tincan ghetto!”

Tina smacked him on the arm. None too gently.

“It’s subsided public housing located in an android-friendly estate… because they’re the ones that need it most right now. And frankly, you seem to be in just as much need, so you should really get off that high horse.”

“Fine, fine. You’re right. I should seriously consider this place, even if my neighbours are gonna have more in common with my car than me. But damn, it seems a little too good to be true. There’s probably some fine print, hidden costs that’ll come out later.”

“Hmm… let’s see…”

Tina scrolled further and then let out a half-laugh. She held her phone up again.

“Nothing shady about the rates, but there is something you should know…”

At the risk of being called old again, Gavin squinted at the screen and read aloud.

“Bearing in mind the founding principles of New Jericho, all human occupants may only apply for tenancy in co-habitation with at least one android citizen of the United States of- JESUS PHCKING CHRIST! Absolutely not! I am not going to live with a plastic prick!”

//

Gavin had to get through half a bottle of wine before he could bear to scroll through the rental listings. Unlike other humans who had happily moved into New Jericho with their android friends or partners, he had to find an android who was also looking for a flatmate.

Some listings came from ardent supporters of Markus. These were the androids who wanted to ease the post-revolution transition by reaching out to humans. Some listings were put up by the android equivalent of frat boys. These individuals were clearly looking for someone on the fringes of human society, someone who could show them a good (if not illegal) time.

Other posts came from eccentric androids who craved company but had likely been rejected by their own kind. Gavin felt a strange twisting sensation, almost like pity, when he came across a post written entirely in third person by someone called Ralph.

He had almost given up hope when he came across a simple little listing for a two bedroom apartment in Cyberscalia.

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: Seeking a neat, self-sufficient co-renter. Human or android, no preference. I spend most of my time working and will be out of your way for the better part of the day. I only ask for silence during my nighttime stasis cycles, timely payment of dues and upkeep of cleanliness.

Gavin sighed in relief.

//

“Your room is the first door on the left, mine is the second. The bathroom, laundry and kitchenette are shared, as is the living room. I scarcely find use for the latter, so you need not worry about my intruding on any of your social gatherings, or vice versa. As long as you adhere to the terms of the agreement, our paths will not cross much.”

The tall, stiff-necked android dropped a set of keys, both mechanical and digital, into Gavin’s open palm.

“Er thanks.. RK… sorry I forgot your full model number…”

“You may call me Nines. Although, I’d rather you didn’t call me much of anything. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

In a swish of black fabric, the android turned on his heel and disappeared into his room. Two rapid clicks indicated the shutting and locking of his door.

Gavin sighed and looked around the open-plan living room. It was nothing fancy, but it was far beyond any of the other properties he’d viewed in weeks of unsuccessful house-hunting.

He sat down on the simple black couch with a huff and contemplated his situation. He’d ended up where he’d truly never expected to go, but objectively speaking, things were good… barring the high-handed manner of his robot flatmate, but who gave a shit about that.

He pulled out his phone to text Tina his thanks.

//

“I can’t! I refuse to! It is a violation of my personal ethics and I will simply not take this assignment any further. Good day to you sir!”

Gavin nearly dropped his bowl of cereal one morning when his roommate burst out of his door and rushed into the open balcony.

He hadn’t seen Nines in days, which was perfectly normal. The android came and went at odd hours and made hardly any noise. It was almost like living alone. The only reminder of Nines’ presence was the sight of several dark shirts and trousers regularly hung out to dry on the rack above the washing machine.

Gavin set his bowl down and watched the android tightly grip the bars of the railing and take several unnecessary breaths to calm down. He’d seen deviant colleagues express emotion many times before, but this was the first time he witnessed such a potent mixture of rage and sorrow from a synthetic being.

Out of empathy, but mostly curiosity, Gavin approached cautiously.

“Hey Nines… is everything alright…?”

There was no response for several moments. Then Nines turned around with a grimace and hands held upwards in a placating gesture.

“I apologise for the disturbance. It was hypocritical of me to disrupt the very peace and quiet I demand of you.”

“Uh… no worries…? Are you okay?”

There was a flash of steel blue eyes.

Gavin kicked himself mentally as he realised too late that he’d broached uncharted territory. Their interactions didn’t extend beyond curt nods on the rare occasion they found each other in the same space. It was almost as if Nines engineered the lack of contact, which wouldn’t surprise Gavin at all if it were the case.

“I’m fine. I merely experienced some frustration with my work.”

Perhaps it was boredom, perhaps it was his usual lack of self-preservative instinct… Gavin threw caution to the winds.

“What do you actually do?”

Nines’ expression remained stoic but his LED went through a spectacular series of colours and flashes. His next words were reluctant.

“I’m a private investigator.”

“Oh shit! I’m actually a cop.”

Gavin pointed dumbly at himself and then let his hand drop when he saw absolutely no surprise cross the android’s face.

“I know. That’s why I let you stay with me.”

“For safety?”

“Certainly not for your fashion sense.”

“Wow okay, I didn’t think I’d be much protection for a big scary droid like you.”

Nines hummed dismissively and started to move out of the balcony, body language fully indicating the end of the conversation.

Unable to help himself for some strange reason, Gavin blurted out another ill-advised question.

“What pissed you off so much?”

Nines paused halfway through side-stepping the human. A thrill went through Gavin at the shards of ice he observed for the first time up close in Nines’ irises.

“If I tell you, will you promise to stop asking pointless questions?”

Gavin nodded earnestly, and frankly… rather foolishly.

“I helped a client gather evidence to initiate divorce proceedings on the grounds of infidelity. I provided ample photo and video evidence for his lawyers to work with. Now they want me to keep following the spouse to capture more details that could gear any future settlement in his favour.”

“So what’s your problem?”

“They’re offering me an incredible amount of cash to follow her 24/7. To stake out her workplace, her gym, her parent’s home. They want me to crouch under the window of the bedroom where her children sleep. I can do a lot of things, but not that. It’s deeply insulting that they even asked. That’s why I was so… pissed.”

Nines slipped past and was nearly back to his bedroom when Gavin spoke.

“I respect that.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I know, but for real though, I think ethics are important in our line of work. Not just because of we need morals or a sense of right or wrong blablabla, but because we need… clarity.”

Silence floated through the hallway as Nines paused with a hand on his doorframe.

“Clarity?”

“Yeah, like a sense of direction. We don’t just take cases right-left-centre because they make us money. I mean, we could, and people do… but they never become specialists or experts of any kind. You gotta strategise if you want a career. Ethics helps with that. I think…”

Gavin wasn’t sure what made him say any of that. He was neither one for small talk, nor a man of many words… but something about Nines prompted that unusual level of introspective discourse.

“Sorry that was weird. Never mind.”

“That was actually… very astute.”

Their eyes met and Gavin could’ve sworn he saw the hint of a smile.

“It’s good to see that not all humans are as one-dimensional as I thought.”

The door clicked shut, but there was no locking sound.

//

Since the morning of Nines’ uncharacteristic outburst, the frequency of their encounters in the common areas of the apartment increased. Wordless nods became hellos, and hellos eventually became full sentences.

Not that he’d admit it, Gavin actually looked forward to enquiring about the android’s day and the cases he was working on. It was utterly fascinating to hear about legal investigations without the constraints of police procedure.

For his part, Nines would share as much as he had the patience to, before disappearing into the confines of his room. Though the time he spent outside steadily increased every day.

Another morning, while Gavin was making his coffee, Nines emerged from his room, still in his pyjamas and looking as livid as he had the time before. Gavin had never seen him in anything but crisply ironed businesswear. Before he could voice any concern, Nines stiffly asked Gavin to keep a lookout for a homicide suspect.

He nodded and immediately reached for his phone to text the sergeant on duty at his station. By midday, there was an arrest.

That evening, when Gavin settled in front of the TV with his usual glass of wine, he heard the familiar sound of Nines’ door opening. The couch dipped beside him.

“Thank you.”

“Just did my job. I should thank you for the tip.”

“Hmm.”

Gavin chanced a glance at his roommate, and found him looking right back.

“What?”

“Nothing… I just had the realisation that much of my work is impotent without the authority and means to take any kind of action.”

The sitcom began to play and Gavin thumbed the remote to reduce the volume.

“Takes all kinds to keep the streets clean. PIs can do things cops can’t. We rely on guys like you for intel all the time, you know.”

“I know.”

No words were exchanged for a while thereafter. Gavin found himself unable to focus on the TV show with all the brooding energy emanating from his right.

“If you feel like being a private eye doesn’t make enough of a difference, then why didn’t you… um… you know…”

“Join law enforcement?”

“Yup.”

“Plenty of my fellow androids have done so. I know for a fact that my predecessor model chose to remain there. You might know him.”

“Connor? Yes. Very annoying.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

“Totally. But why didn’t you join too? You’d be brilliant on the Force.”

“My skillset is certainly well-suited, but I didn’t want to become another puppet of the state.”

Gavin really didn’t know what to say to that. He nodded uncertainly and looked back at the television. He wasn’t sure why Nines was suddenly this social.

“What are you… watching?”

Androids could scan and detect just about anything in the world, so there had to be something else to the question. Gavin, strangely, was happy to oblige.

//

Nines made an appearance every evening, without fail. He would sit through the TV shows if they were of interest, or he would bring his case material and notes to the coffee table to work in silence beside Gavin.

Sometimes Gavin liked to work on jigsaw puzzles on the dining table. Nines would sit beside him, pretending to read a paperback novel, but actually scanning the puzzle and passing the right pieces over from time to time.

Against all odds, an evening ritual and a tentative friendship developed. It was simple, but it was warm. Comfortable. Like nothing Gavin had ever had before, even with humans.

//

He awoke one morning with a slight crick in his neck but the feeling of being very well-rested.

His eyes flickered open and fell upon the window. Familiar greenery came into view… but wait… had everything slightly shifted to the left? And was that the New Jericho Capitol building? He couldn’t see that from his room! There was a tree in the way! A tree that was now a few feet away from where it used to be.

Gavin sat up in alarm as he realised that he was not in his own bed. His heart flew into his throat as Nines walked through the open doorway. Shirtless and carrying a mug of blue liquid.

“Oh good, you’re up.”

“Wha-what happened!?”

Nines frowned and sat down on the edge of the bed. He set the mug on the floor and pulled on a plain black t-shirt.

“You passed out on the couch last night. I think you finished a whole bottle waiting up for me? Sorry, I was out working later than expected.”

Gavin looked down and sighed in relief as he found all his clothes still on him.

“I didn’t want you to injure yourself sleeping at an odd angle so I brought you here. Your door was locked.”

“You could’ve easily opened it.”

“Yes, but that would’ve been an invasion of privacy. I reserve that for working hours alone.”

Gavin looked deep into the sparkling blue eyes and as usual found no trace of humour.

“Thanks…”

“Don’t mention it. Now get out. You’re ruining my silk sheets.”

//

Against his best efforts, Gavin could not keep the thought of being carried to bed and tucked in safely out of his mind. How many years had it been? Since something like that had been even remotely possible for him?

He knew that Nines was just being kind in his own pragmatic little way… but Gavin found that he wouldn’t mind the prospect of waking up in the android’s bed in a wildly different context.

He realised he had it bad when Tina caught him smiling to himself at work one day.

“Why so happy?”

“Oh… nothing. Just remembered something my roommate did… He’s a… funny guy.”

“Huh. Well, look at you getting along so well with androids.”

“Android. Singular. Just him.”

“Wowwww… he sounds special.”

//

“Who did this?”

“Gavin, the damage is merely superficial-”

“Who phcking did this??!”

He reached forward and gingerly touched Nines’ split cheek. His synth skin was smeared with blue blood and glitching in and out. Nines winced at the contact.

“Shit, sorry. That must hurt like a bitch.”

“Androids do not feel pain.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m merely experiencing a surge in sensory input wherever my chassis is exposed. I’m fine.”

“Shut up and give me your first aid kit or whatever toolbox equivalent you tincans have.”

A shade of embarrassment appeared over the android’s features.

“I… actually don’t have one. I didn’t think I’d ever need it.”

“Didn’t think anyone could kick your ass, huh?”

“No… I didn’t think anyone would ever spot my hiding place.”

“Huh. How’d that happen?”

Nines’ eyes dipped, but as always, he answered the question.

“I was… distracted.”

Something in the air solidified and both of them felt it. Gavin cleared his throat and slapped his knees like an old man about to stand up.

“Right. Let me go check if the neighbours have anything that might help with your face.”

//

“So who’s this dapper young gent you’ve brought to the party, Gavin?”

“Er… he’s my uh… roommate.”

Captain Fowler nodded and winked.

“That’s what they called it in my day too.”

Nines shifted beside Gavin and cleared his throat.

“He’s a PI. But I think he’s wasting his talent taking pictures of cheating spouses. He’s quite interested in police work. Maybe we could get him to assist on a couple cases now and then?”

Fowler put down his drink and extended a warm hand to Nines.

//

“Oh thank RA9!”

Nines came running to the cluster of police cars and enveloped him in a giant hug. Gavin laughed as he patted him weakly on the back.

“Watch the ribs, big guy.”

“I was so worried.”

“Why? Your info was good. No chance of error.”

“I meant about you.”

Gavin pulled back and regarded Nines with confusion. The flashing red and blue lights of the cars made it hard to read his LED.

“Why?”

“I can’t believe you have to ask.”

The android pulled him into a bruising kiss. The officers standing nearby broke into wolf-whistles and applause.

“What the-”

“Oh I take full credit for that, sir.”

Fowler glanced at Tina.

“The case, Chen?”

“Oh of course. I solved the whole thing. But I mean that specifically.”

She waved a hand in Gavin and Nines’ direction. The two held each other tightly and seemed unlikely to come up for air anytime soon.

“Like I helped Gav find an affordable place in New Jericho and then he met this handsome investigator droid and they were roommates.”

“Oh my god, they were roommates…”

“Yeah legit.”

//

\\\

Thanks so much for the request @jude-shotto

This ended up being a lot longer than expected, but I couldn’t help it. Your prompt just took me on a whole journeyyyy <3

[ibijau]

“Stop borrowing flowers out of my garden to woo people who don’t even treat you right.” said by Jiang Cheng! Hm, could you make this mingcheng???

This one got away from me so it’s a tiny bit longer than the usual, oops?

The problem was that strictly speaking, it wasn’t a garden. It was just a patch of dirt on the side of a long abandoned construction project that had never been completed due to lack of funds, or embezzlement, or some other bullshit that Jiang Cheng had never cared enough about to try and find out.

It wasn’t a garden.

But Jiang Cheng had been planting flowers there, out of sheer boredom, because he lived right next door and missed the greeneries of his parents’ house. Their garden had always been gorgeous, perfectly maintained by his mother, an absolute work of art. It was the only place she seemed happy. It was the only thing Jiang Cheng missed about his old life. Those quiet moments when his mother, in a fit of good mood, took him around her garden, her one true love, and explained to him about the plants and how to best care for them. People in their circle would sometimes joke that Zu Ziyuan loved her garden more than her family.

Jiang Cheng had never found it funny. Perhaps because he knew what it was like to envy mulberry leaves for the tenderness with which Yu Ziyuan would remove caterpillars from them, when she could hardly be near her son without pushing him around.

For a while, Jiang Cheng had hated gardens. That wasn’t the whole reason why he’d moved to the city, but it had probably impacted his choice anyway. He’d wanted to get as far away from his parents’ life as he could.

But in the end, something must have run in his blood. After months of walking by that abandoned patch of dirt, Jiang Cheng had given in one day. He’d bought some bulbs and seeds, a beginner’s guide to gardening, and set out to work.

It had surprised him when flowers actually started growing. Jiang Cheng was used to failure, and his mother used to tell him he had no skill for gardening. No skill for anything really, but gardening in particular seemed to piss her off. 

But there were some wallflowers and geraniums to prove she’d been wrong about this.

About other things too, perhaps. For the time being, Jiang Cheng just clung to the gardening thing.

The entire first week after the flowers started growing, Jiang Cheng expected that whoever owned the plot of land would come to pour bleach on them. It was private property after all. But the plot appeared to be fully abandoned, and that meant Jiang Cheng was free to do as he pleased.

He got more flowers, making sure to pick varieties that were good for bees, because that would make his sister happy, if he ever got around to calling her. He also planted tomatoes, and after hesitation a few courgettes, because those grew like weeds and it wouldn’t matter if someone stole a few, or even all of them. It was the sort of things that’d make his brother happy, except he talked to him even less than to his sister, so Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure why that mattered.

What mattered was that the garden made him happy in a way he hadn’t been in a while. It gave him something to care about. To care for. Something to check on in the morning as he headed out to work, a place to spend a little time when he came home. It encouraged some of the neighbours to chat with him, when up until then they’d apparently half wondered if he was a serial killer with his constant angry face. The little old lady next door asked if she could borrow some of the vegetables growing, and gave him half the dish she made using them.

It felt like a homecooked meal, in a way the family gatherings he still occasionally attended never did.

“You should try planting daylilies,” she suggested. “Pretty and delicious, it’d be a win. My grandmother used to prepare them for us, I’m sure I can remember how to do it too.”

Jiang Cheng did as she asked, and sweet old madam Wen delivered on her promise when the flowers were ready. She invited Jiang Cheng to have lunch with him one Sunday, when her nephew and niece were there. It should have been awkward, but madam Wen was a cheerful old lady that managed to get all three of them chatting as if they’d always known each other.

Better than if they’d always known each other, in Jiang Cheng’s case.

He ended up trading phone numbers with both siblings. Not because he felt like flirting with either, as their aunt so clearly hoped for, but so he knew who to contact if something happened to the old lady. Wen Qing wasn’t very chatty, except to complain about their roommate from hell, but Wen Ning often asked for photos of the garden, and in exchange sent Jiang Cheng pictures of the dogs he got to see at the veterinary clinic where he worked.

For the first time in years, Jiang Cheng felt that things weren’t so bad.

So when one evening after work he dropped by his garden and saw a stranger in an expensive thought pacing by his courgettes, Jiang Cheng felt a familiar dread. If this was the plot’s owner, if he had come to ruin things…

Jiang Cheng rushed ahead, ready to plead his case.

Then stopped after a few steps when the man turned his way. He was handsome. Very handsome. The sort of handsome that belonged on the pages of a magazine, not in the middle of Jiang Cheng’s shitty illegal garden.

The man was also on the phone with someone, and apparently so deep in an argument that he didn’t even see Jiang Cheng just a few metres from him.

“You are the worst,” the man shouted at his phone, “and I swear I’m kicking you out this time. I will… no, don’t cry. Stop crying, it doesn’t work anymore! You…”

The handsome stranger started pacing nervously between the courgettes as whoever was on the other end of the conversation made their case.

“Listen, you are going to calm down, ok? I’m… hey, I’m bringing you flowers. How does that sound?”

He leaned down toward the daylilies, not yet picking one as he waited for the other person to reply.

“Of course real flowers. You… listen, I don’t have the energy for this. We’ll deal with it when I get home.”

The man hung up, and started tearing away Jiang Cheng’s flowers, roots and all, like a barbarian.

Jiang Cheng had always allowed everyone to take what they wanted or needed, but only if they showed some respect for his efforts.

“Stop borrowing flowers out of my garden to woo people who don’t even treat you right!” he barked, stomping toward the man.

The handsome stranger, startled, dropped the flowers.

“Your garden? What do you mean, your garden?”

“You think this got here on its own?” Jiang Cheng asked, gesturing at his garden. It wasn’t as beautiful as his mother’s, but it was his all the same and it loved his plants.

The man looked around with wide eyes, as if he hadn’t even noticed before where he was.

“Sorry, I thought they were just… wild flowers. Did you plant all of those?”

“Not the pumpkins, that’s the kids from down the streets who thought it’d be fun. And the herbs are madam Wen’s because she doesn’t like getting them from the store if she can get fresh ones. But the rest is mine.”

“Must have been a lot of work,” the man said with an admirative whistle. “I can make a cactus die of thirst, so I’m impressed, you must be really good. You’ve been at it for a while?”

“A couple months,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, refusing to let praise from a handsome man get to him. “I live next door and this place has been abandoned for ages apparently.”

“So it’s not your garden,” the stranger noted with a grin. “Well, if you’ve stolen the land, I feel less bad about stealing flowers. It’s not like you can call the cops on me.”

He bent down, ready to slaughter more flowers, so Jiang Cheng did the logical thing and pushed him to protect his daylilies. The handsome stranger fell in the dirt, which thankfully was dry and wouldn’t stain too badly. Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure he could afford to repay that suit.

“If you’re going to steal my flowers for your shitty manipulative wife, at least do it properly. Nobody wants a bouquet with roots.”

The man blinked a few times, a little disoriented after being pushed down. When he saw Jiang Cheng grab the torn daylilies and carefully cut the stems so he could replant the roots, the stranger laughed.

“You’re really passionate about this, uh,” he said, standing up and wiping the dirt from his suit. “That wasn’t my wife on the phone, by the way.”

“Your manipulative husband then,” Jiang Cheng retorted, cutting a few more flowers.

“Little brother,” the man corrected. “Apparently he got drunk last week, slept with my best friend, panicked, ghosted him, left town for five days to hide at his best friend’s house, and now he’s… ah, but you probably don’t care.”

Jiang Cheng shouldn’t care, no, but he couldn’t help laughing at the crazy story. It sounded like something right out of a shitty soap opera, or the kind of bullshit that Wei Wuxian used to pull all the time, back when he was still part of Jiang Cheng’s life.

“My brother’s the same,” Jiang Cheng said, handing out the small bouquet he’d managed to salvage. “Did you take those so he can go apologise to your friend?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure if he’s going to give them to Xichen or if he just wants to keep them to feel spoiled. I’m not sure I’ll give them to him, anyway. It’s not every day a handsome man gives me a bouquet, I’ll be tempted to keep it.”

Jiang Cheng shrugged and rolled his eyes, and absolutely did not blush like a schoolgirl being complimented by her crush.

“Just go give those to your brother. And learn to cut flowers properly, asshole.”

“If I drop by again, will you teach me?”

Jiang Cheng shrugged again and turned away, so it wouldn’t be too obvious just how red his face was. He’d have slapped himself if he could have. It was ridiculous to react so strongly. His only excuse was that the man was really, really gorgeous and had a really, really nice voice… and that it had been a long while since anyone had flirted with him, even this badly.

“Maybe I will, if I can find the time. My life’s not a fucking soap opera but I have my own stuff to do.”

“Fair enough. Well, I hope I’ll see you around. It was nice talking to you.”

Jiang Cheng shrugged, and refused to turn around to watch that too handsome man go, though he might have been slightly tempted.

He’d lost enough time to that asshole already, and the tomatoes weren’t going to water themselves.

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

Tate Langdon - American Horror Story

Wrote this a long time ago. My original plan back then was so make this into a multiple chapter story, but then I ultimately lost interest like all my other failed projects. 🙃

I also didn’t know how to fucking end this story, sorryyy ughhhh

❗Trigger warning❗

~~~~~~~~~~

Welp, I am dead.

Like, super dead.

One minute I’m slitting my wrists wide open in my bathroom and now I’m standing over my body watching myself decay.

I never thought I’d become a ghost or whatever I am. I didn’t even believe in the afterlife. I thought I’d just die and that would be it. I wouldn’t feel anything, it’d be peaceful. I was definitely wrong.

I moved into this big mansion in California with my parents. I didn’t want to die, I just thought it was my only way out. Now, I’m stuck here. Great. I really screwed the pooch this time.

After my parents found me rotting away, they decided to move away to have a fresh new start. Not that I blame them. But I was kinda pissed they just left me here, unable to step one foot off this property except for Halloween.

If I’m being completely honest, it’s not that terrible. I’m not alone. Turns out, many people have died here. Violently, which is fun.

There’s a woman that lives here who is kinda crazy, but she’s nice. She treats me better than my own mother did. She wishes I was a baby though, cause her baby is all kinds of fucked up.

There’s an elderly woman here too, who I found out was actually dead and lived here. When I was alive, she was our maid and constantly tried to seduce my father, which I reluctantly forgave her for that.

That weird neighbour, Constance, always visits here, since she has multiple children who have died here as well. I’ve yet to meet her eldest, Tate. To be honest, I don’t think I want to meet him. I’ve seen him wander around the halls but I’ve never shown myself around him. Mrs. Montgomery says he’s just misunderstood, but shooting up a school is a little too much for me.

I hang out with his brother sometimes, and by hanging out I mean basically rolling a ball back and forth. It makes him somewhat happy though, I guess. I know one of these days I’m going to run into him, I just hope it’s later rather than sooner.

~~~

Today, that real estate agent bitch is trying to sell this house, yet again. Only for the owners to be killed and get stuck here for all eternity. Anyone in their right mind would not buy this house, especially knowing what took place here.

I watch the family interested in buying the house from my old bedroom. They look like a relatively normal family. A mom, dad, and their angsty teenage daughter and a cute pet dog.

Yeah, they definitely wouldn’t survive living here.

“Spying on the new folks, I see?”

“Jesus! You scared me!” I turn to see Tate. Oh boy, this should be fun.

“Y/N L/N. How lovely to finally meet you. I never got the chance to introduce myself when you first moved here cause you see, you killed yourself before I even got the chance. Which was kind of rude on your part.” He smirked. “Your death was very entertaining, I must say. All that blood gushing everywhere, man, it was quite the spectacle.”

“Glad you found my death so entertaining, Tate. I’m sure yours was too.” I smile sweetly, making his smug grin quickly turn into a glare.

“Anyway,” he coughed, “better introduce myself to the new folks soon.”

“But...you’re dead.”

“Well, they don’t need to know that.” He walked over to the window where I saw. “That girl’s kinda hot, wouldn’t you say?” He smirked. “Don’t worry though, I find you even prettier.”

I scoffed and kept looking out the window. The teenage girl looked over towards the window. I quickly hid myself from her sight but Tate didn’t until she did a double take.

I gave him confused look. “What? It’s fun to play with people’s minds from time to time. You should try it sometime. Stop being a stick in the mud.” He said and walked away.

I can already tell he’s going to be so annoying.

I decided to take a closer look at the new comers. Tate was right though, that girl is pretty. I listened in on their conversation and I learned their names. Ben, Vivian, and Violet. All nice names, nice innocent names. They seem like nice people, sucks that they’ll die when they move in.

A few hours, Adelaide sneaks into the house. She always finds a way in here. She waves and smiles at me when she walks past, I still don’t know how she’s able to see me when I’m not visible to anyone, not that I mind cause I love her like a sister. She walks up behind Vivian, “You’re going to die in here.”

She’s never been one to know how to start a conversation.

~~~

I learned that Ben was a psychiatrist and Tate had an appointment with him today. He seems to be really determined to get to know these people, especially Violet. I thought about listening in, but that seemed too much. I just wandered the halls until I reached the bathroom. Violet hurts herself?

I hear footsteps and quickly sped off down the hall and hid behind a corridor, it was Tate. “You’re doing it wrong. If you wanna kill yourself, you should cut vertically. The doctors can’t stitch that up.” I hear him say.

What the hell? Why would he say that?

He closed the door and walked off. I shook my head and went up to the attic, my usual hang out spot.

I sat in the corner, I looked up and saw that the creepy rubber costume wasn’t there anymore. Thank god, that thing creeped me out to no end.

A red ball rolls to me, and I sigh. “I’m not in the mood, Beau.” I roll it back and it stays.

The attic door opens and Tate pops his head in, he sees me and smiles. “So, this is where you hang out? Good to know.” He says.

“Why? So you can annoy me better?” I say.

“Aw, don’t be like that. We should be friends.”

I laugh. “Yeah, right.”

Tate simple smirked and sat down beside me. “Come on. We’d make awesome...friends.”

I quickly scowled at him. “Why would you say that to Violet by the way? She could actually be convinced to do that, you know.”

“Oh, I was just trying to get another girl so we could have an afterlife threesome. Doesn’t that sound great?”

“Get outta here.”

Tate rolled his eyes, blowing me a kiss as he opened up attic door and descended the ladder. 

I scoff. This kid really is crazy, maybe it’s a good thing that he’s seeing Dr. Harmon. Tate climbed down the ladder and the attic door closed with a loud slam.

The red ball rolls to me.

~~~

Tate is hanging out with Violet on her room. I’m not stalking him! I just wanna make sure he doesn’t kill her. “Tate. What are you doing here? You need to leave now.” Ben says. Violet tries to calm her dad, but he insisted on him leaving.

“Just trying to be friends with your friendless daughter, Ben” Tate says. I roll my eyes and leave the hallway, accidently bumping into the kid. “Woah there. Aw, is someone spying on me?” He smirked.

I scoff. “As if.” Tate had a playful twinkle in his eyes, making me feel more nervous in his presence. “Just making sure you don’t murder that girl.”

“Me? Murdering someone? Nah.” He joked, but when he saw that I wasn’t joking, he dropped his smile. “Look, my murdering days are behind me, okay? I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore. I promise.”

“I’ll make sure to hold you to that, pretty boy.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?”

“Don’t push me.” I scowled, Tate fake saluting me before I started to walk off. I gasped when I suddenly felt Tate turn me around so he could plant a kiss on my cheek. “What the hell?” I stuttered.

Tate simply shrugged and smiled. “You just look very kissable.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Ugh, this flopped but whatever

[amythedvdhoarder]

I Want You

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Written for Laur’s Quarantine Writing Challenge. Her work is always amazing so check it out @fvckingavengers​

Song Prompt: I want you – Nick Jonas. Lyrics in italics throughout (and the title)

Word count: 3.6K

Summary: Bucky messed up but he can’t live without you. He wants you and has to get you back

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff and smut 18+ only (covered all bases here I think!)

Authors notes: GIF not mine. Ahhh so happy to be writing again. It is my first song prompt and was so fun to write. Gotta love some arguments and the eventual making up. I don’t write smut very often but hope you like it. Really tempted to do a follow up if people are interested? Feedback is always welcome so please let me know what you think x

Here is my masterlist if you want to read any of my other Bucky one-shots!

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The knocking at your door woke you up with a start. You looked across at the clock and saw it was 2 in the morning. There was another loud bang on the door. You groaned, flicked on the bedside lamp and dragged yourself out of bed to the front door of your apartment. Glancing through the peephole in the door you sighed. “Bucky go away, I don’t want to talk to you. It’s the middle of the night for fucks sake.” You saw as he moved closer to the door. “Would you let me in, or I’m breaking in ‘cause I ain’t gonna let you go.” Knowing full well that the super soldier would follow through with his threat, you started to unlock the door. Bucky strode into the room as soon as you opened the front door, his hands running through his short locks. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, stress etched across his handsome features. “Just so you know, I’m only letting you in because I don’t want to piss off the neighbours.”

“Y/N, I want you and no one else” Anger surged through your body. “I’m not having this conversation again Bucky. If you wanted me that bad then you wouldn’t be afraid to tell people about me and you definitely wouldn’t be eye fucking and flirting with other women in front of me.” Bucky’s head dropped, you were right that he hadn’t behaved how he should, treated you the way you deserved, but he did want you. He watched as you walked back towards your bed and climbed in, pulling the duvet around you. “Y/N come on. Can you please just listen to what I have to say?” You groaned and slammed you head back again the pillows. “Fine but not now, I’m fucking knackered alright. I’ll listen to what you have to say in the morning.” Bucky shifted nervously. “Um can I crash here?” Although Bucky couldn’t see your face he knew you would be rolling your eyes. “Whatever. The sofa is all yours. Don’t mistake this as an act of kindness or a sign I want to get back together. I just can’t be bothered to argue with you at 2 in the fucking morning.” He threw his arms up in surrender and headed towards the sofa, pulling off his jacket and shoes. Just as he was unbuckling his belt something large a soft hit him in the back. He turned and picked up the pillow you had just thrown at him and smiled to himself. Clearly you cared about him on some level. “Thanks Y/N” You responded only by waving your arm back at him. “See you in the morning” This time all he got was a grunt as you turned off the lamp, throwing the apartment into darkness. Bucky silently finished undressing, leaving him in just his boxers. He pulled the knitted throw off the back of the sofa and got himself as comfortable as he could.

He was going to fix this. He had to fix this, he was crazy about you. You had dated for over 6 months. Those 6 months had been the happiest of his life.

----------

The first time he had met you was in the library, he was looking for a book by an author that Wanda had recommended. You had been sat at one of the desks marking some exam papers, hair pulled up into a messy bun, glasses perched on the end of your nose. He had been so distracted by the cute face you were pulling that he dropped the book he was pulling from the shelf, the noise when it hit the wooden floor had made you jump. “Shit” Bucky had said rather loudly making you look around to find the source of the interruption. He had grimaced as your eyes met and shrugged apologetically.  You had just smiled and returned to marking your papers.

He had lingered in the library far longer than normal until the librarian announced the library was closing. Bucky looked around to see where you were but to his surprise you weren’t there. “Hey” he spun around to see you stood next to him, as grin spreading across your face.  “Um hi.” You plucked the book he had and inspected it carefully. “That’s a good one. If you like it then you should read the Jack Reacher books. All about an ex-military bloke with a lizard brain. Everywhere he goes so does trouble.” Bucky hadn’t really known what book he had in his hand, it had been more of a cover for him so he could stay at catch a few glimpses of you without seeming too suspicious. “Thanks, I will bear that in mind …” He gestured at you “Y/N” you added and offered him your free hand which he shook, trying to ignore the feeling spreading through his body as his skin touched yours for the first time. “Bucky” You shot him a quizzical look. “Unusual name?” He took the book from you now and shoved it back onto the shelf. “Well it’s from my middle name Buchannan.” Bucky scratched the back of his neck “Don’t suppose you want to grab a coffee on the way out? You can tell me more about the lizard brain.” You chuckled but agreed. From there you had sat in the park for a couple of hours talking about your lives. Bucky glossed over the details of his past but you knew a little bit about it from the news, not that it bothered you. He was sweet, kind and had the ability to make you feel like you had the most interesting life, even though as a teacher you really didn’t. He laughed at the stories you told him and before you knew it you had wondered to a little bistro and had dinner with each other. He had then walked you back to your apartment and you arranged an official first date for the following evening.

Bucky kept his life with you separate from the avengers. You could understand it really, it was a completely different world. He promised to introduce you to Steve and Sam at some point but every time you tried to invite them around for dinner Bucky always made an excuse. It made you feel like he was ashamed of you. Both of you had busy schedules, he had missions and you had a full-time teaching job. But you found a way to make it work. You gave him a key to your place which meant that most nights when you got in Bucky was waiting for you. It was the evenings you spent curled up against him on the couch, chatting about the events of the day that made the relationship work. That precious time where neither of you worried about anything and just took comfort in being around each other. There were other ways that you found comfort as well. Bucky worshipped your body, which you normally hid behind ripped mom jeans and loose cable knit sweaters. But he knew what you were hiding and he just couldn’t get enough of you. That feeling was mutual, dating a man injected with super serum definitely had its benefits. You weren’t with the man for his body but you definitely weren’t going to complain. Bucky could have been sculpted by an artist who envisaged the perfect human man; hard muscular planes, thick powerful legs and the metal arm, whilst probably not imagined by Michelangelo, only added to his appeal.

Everything had been going well until a couple of weeks ago. He had mentioned a party that Tony Stark was throwing that he had to attend, you had half expected him to ask you to go with him, knowing how much he hated big gatherings. But he didn’t. Instead he left you to spend the evening by yourself and rocked up at 3 in the morning, slightly drunk from some Asgardian drink, smelling of perfume and with his face covered in bright red lipstick. That night you had your first major fight followed by the best make up sex of your life. Despite all of this there was part of you that had begun to doubt whether you were enough for Bucky. You weren’t some super fit model-like woman, you were average, run of the mill normal.

The following week Bucky had taken you out for meal and the whole night you watched as his eyes followed the waitress’s ass around the room and on the walk home how he had turned as some drunk scantily clad women stumbled down the street. This was the final straw. The fight when you had got home was worse than the last. Then it was over, Bucky was gone and you were on your own again. He hadn’t fought to keep you and despite the love you held for him it wasn’t enough.

-----------

At first when you heard the noises coming from your kitchen you panicked but then your remembered. Bucky. You silently slipped into the bathroom and splashed your face with cold water, and pulled your hair into a high pony before going to face him. In the morning light you got a better look at him; there were deep purple marks below his eyes, the scruff of a newly formed beard and the tension in his shoulder made it evident that he was stressed. He was stood in his boxers and the shirt he had been wearing last night loose around his torso. You went at sat at the breakfast bar and he gave you a half apologetic smile. “Sorry about last night, I just needed to see you, be near you. I don’t know how to exist without you, I can’t sleep. I’m just lost.” A small groan escaped your lips, the fight you had in you last night was rapidly disappearing. You missed Bucky. It wasn’t difficult to fall in love with him but it sure was difficult to fall out of love with him. “Buck, I went through this. You’re clearly ashamed of me. You wouldn’t introduce me to your friends and when we went out you couldn’t keep your eyes to yourself.” Bucky put down the batter mix he had been whisking and looked at you. “Y/N I didn’t take you to that party because I knew there would be a hundred pricks there who wouldn’t have been able to take their eyes off you. I didn’t want you to realise what a jealous shit I really am.” Bucky raised his hand at you when you started to interrupt. “No, I need to finish. At the restaurant the other week you thought I was following the waitress around well what I was really looking at were the arseholes at the bar that kept eyeing you up, especially when you got up to go the toilet. Their eyes were glue to your arse, not that I can blame them, but they had no right to objectify you like that.” Your eyebrows knitted together in concentration as you tried to think back to that night. “What about the girls on the street?” Now it was Bucky’s turn to be confused. “What girls?” You scoffed “The ones who walked by with their tits out and their dressed practically showing of their you know...” Bucky let out a frustrated sigh. “Y/N I didn’t even see them, it was the two drunk blokes behind us, I could hear them saying things about you. I swear, I only turned to scare them off.”

Could you have really got it that wrong. Had your own jealously really made you that paranoid. “Even if all of that is true Buck, why wouldn’t you let me meet Steve or Sam?” Bucky made his way around the counter so that he was stood in front of you. “Look Y/N” he said taking your hand in his “I want you for myself, I thought introducing you to them would make you realise you could do so much better than me. There is stuff in my past I’m not proud of ok, they’re much better guys than I am. I just didn’t want to lose you.” You reached out and caressed his cheek with your free hand “I know about your past Ok? As far as I am concerned none of that matters, it’s who you are now that I care about. You’re the man I fell in love with.” Bucky placed his hand on yours and tilted his head to find your eyes. “I love you Y/N, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. I want you, and nothing else will do.” You rested your forehead against his “Promise me that you will get it out of your head that you’re not good enough for me. I get to make that decision, I’m not going to leave you and in return I’ll reign in my jealousy and trust you more.” Bucky pulled back, searched your eyes and realised you meant every word. “I promise Y/N. I was thinking I know it’s a bit soon but do you want to stay at my place next weekend? You can meet everyone.” You smiled brightly at him “I would love that Buck.” His head dipped as he captured your lips with his, his hands moving to the back of your head holding you against him. You groaned at the gesture and felt your arousal beginning to pool. It had been a very long two weeks and you had missed the feeling that only Bucky could create. Bucky moaned against your mouth as your lips parted allowing access, your tongues dancing around as you became reacquainted.

Bucky pressed his knee between your legs, allowing him step between them. Your arms wrapped around the back of his neck and his fell to your hips as he lifted you, your legs circled around his waist. He carried you across the room to the bed without breaking the kiss, your now wet clothed core rubbing against his hardening member. Bucky dropped you carefully onto the bed and was on top of you in a second, his lips crashing to yours once again. You wriggled your hips against his wanting him to get the hint. “Bucky please” you whined against his lips. He chuckled as his mouth trailed down your neck and he nipped teasingly at the sensitive skin there before sucking at the junction just above your collar bone. Your fingers ran across his chest and began pushing off his shirt, he got the idea, pulling away from your briefly to remove it before turning his attention to the t-shirt you were wearing. “I was wondering where that had got to” he murmured as he lifted the fabric of his red henley up revealing a small strip of skin just above your lace panties. He placed butterfly kisses along the newly exposed skin as his hands continued their journey underneath, tracing the outline of your breasts. “It still smelt of you” you breathed as his thumbs teased patterns over your taut nipples. You sat up slightly so Bucky could pull the t-shirt up over your head. “Looks better on you anyway doll.”

Bucky looked down appreciatively at you, the blue in his eyes barely visible as his pupils were blown. “So fucking gorgeous” You smiled up at him and let your hand trace up the defined muscles of his abdomen, up across his chest to his shoulders where you pulled him down to you crashing his lips to yours. The kiss was all teeth, one of desperation. Your fingernails dug into Bucky’s back keeping him close to you, his hand finding your breasts once again where he kneaded at the soft flesh before rolling your nipples between his fingers, making you gasp into his mouth. His lips left yours as he trails hot wet kisses down your body, stopping to pay particular attention to your breasts before continuing their journey downwards. Your fingers wind into his hair as his lips press against your clothed bundle of nerves making your hips buck. Bucky continues to tease you, his fingers exploring everywhere other than where you wanted them, his teeth graze over the top of your panties. You whine as the heat in your lower belly starts becoming too much. “Bucky, I want you. Please.” The need in your voice nearly makes him come on the spot but he wants to do this properly, these two weeks have been hell without you. “I’m getting there doll, gonna to make you feel so good.” Bucky sits up so that he can remove the last barrier from your body, his cock twitches in his boxers as he looks down on you and decides that he can’t wait any longer. He tears the lace from your body. Normally you would have been annoyed at him for that but your desire has over taken any rational thought. He removes his own underwear before attaching his mouth suddenly to your clit. You scream at the contact as you writhe underneath him. Bucky holds your hips down with his hands as his tongue licks at the juices that have already collected at your apex. He hums at the taste, the vibration coursing through your whole body. Your fingernails dig into his scalp, holding him in place, as his tongue enters you, twisting and thrusting leaving you so close to the edge, his nose bumping your clit as he continues his assault. He removes his tongue and before you can cry at the loss of contact his mouth is back on your clit, sucking at it harshly until your cry out his name and a string of curses, the knot in your stomach finally bursting. Bucky keeps his mouth on you as you ride out your high, the final waves of pleasure still pulsing through your body as he makes his way up to your mouth. You can taste yourself on his lips making you groan, his tongue gliding over yours.

Deciding you want more control, you manoeuvre yourself so that Bucky is underneath you whilst you straddle his hips. You grind against him slowly, your slick coating his member. A small hiss escapes his mouth and closes his eyes as you pick up the pace, your hands falling to his chest for support. “Fuck doll” Bucky’s hands tighten around your hips as he helps guide your movements. “I need you Y/N” he pants as you reach down between you taking his member and positioning him before you sink down onto him. You stay still for a few moments giving yourself time to adjust before you slowly begin you rock your hips. Bucky’s hands are all over you, pinching your nipples, traveling over your back before inserting two fingers into your mouth. You moan around Bucky’s fingers as your hips pick up speed, the heat in your belly building. “Shit doll” Bucky can’t help but thrust his own hips up, matching your moments. He removed his fingers and sits you both up so he can get deeper into you. The new angle makes you cry out. Your hands weave into his hair as you cling onto him for support as you head tilts back, Bucky places wet open mouth kissed to your exposed neck. His hand travels down between you as he circles your clit. He growls as he feels you walls flutter against him. His mouth finds yours again, teeth and tongue colliding. Both of you are panting now with the exertion. The room filled only with noise of your ragged breathing and the lewd sounds of skins slapping against skin. “Come on Y/N, I’m so close. Come with me Doll” he gasps against your lips. His words and the friction he is creating again your clit is enough to pull you over the edge. His name comes out almost like a broken sob as your orgasm rips through you, your fingernails digging into Bucky’s back to keep you grounded. As your walls tighten around Bucky, his thrusts become more erratic as he chases his releases. He shouts as he spills inside you with a final couple of thrusts. Both of you cling to each other, Bucky’s mouth ghosting along your sweat covered neck and along your collar bone before he gently bites on your shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. Your own forehead is pressed to Bucky’s shoulder, one hand curled around the back of his neck and the other running up and down his muscular back.

Bucky pulled you with him as he laid back against the bed. Your body resting on top of his still connected at your most private parts. “Mmmm I’ve missed this” you hummed against his chest, your fingers gently tracing the scars where metal joined flesh. Bucky leant down and placed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ve missed you.” He whispered just loud enough so that you could hear him. Your hips wiggled slightly as you readjusted yourself so you could kiss up his neck and jaw before pressing your lips to his once more. You nipped and sucked on his bottom lip making him groan. His cock hardening again in side you. “Already Sergeant?” You teased. Bucky growled. “Damn straight doll” he replied before flipping you underneath him, his kiss urgent and all consuming, so much so it left you breathless. Bucky pulled back to let you catch your breath.  “I love you.” Bucky whispered softly as his hand traced over your cheekbone. “Love you too Bucky.” You placed a chaste kiss to his lips. “Now show me how much you really want me Sergeant.” Bucky’s eyes darkened immediately. “You many regret that Y/N.” You giggled before letting out a little squeal as Bucky began moving his hips again. “Doll your gonna feel just how much I want you for days.”

Taglist is open so let me know if you want in

Taglist: @stargazingfangirl18 ,  @silentcoyotesong, @queenofstarliqht​, @buckys-henley​, @lonelyheartsm​ @alexa-lightwood-blog​

[seokjxnnie]

celestial (pt. 4) | kth (m)

↠ genre: smut, angst, demon au, incubus!taehyung x f reader ↠ warnings: only 2k words of this chapter isn’t smut 🥴, big dick tae, rough sex, slight brat!reader, f masturbation, slight exhibitionism, public sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), handjob, thigh riding ↠ length: 7.4k

↳ her flesh and blood imparts immortality to any demon, but the incubus protecting her from the hunt requires something else of her body.

↞ part 3 | masterlist | part 5 ↠

a/n: thank u for being so patient throughout my absence in updating this series! this is a pretty smutty chapter to make up for it hehe

“These ones?” A gala apple rolls in the pads of Hoseok’s fingers.

She shakes her head, the fix of her stare offered to the fuji apples on the neighboured shelf instead. The visual of a clean snap advertised by its firm speckled skin draws her reach to them. Hoseok holds the skimpy plastic bag open for her to drop in four.

He continues their prior conversation while steering their shopping cart along the margins of the produce section and towards the aisles. “He’s been resting, been wanting to be alone, holed up in his room.” A sigh carries his dim volume. “But don’t worry, he’s just being a stubborn piss baby. His wounds will close up to nothing but scars in just another few days.” His elbow finds her arm with a light, playful rut in hopes of evicting the discourage from her expression.

Surface wounds may heal, but Taehyung’s eyes will remain muted, telling of the wuthering that colonizes from within.

The nod she replies with is made unconvincing by the distance her gaze wear. It’s guilt, it’s worry, it’s confusion that occupies her and disorients her coordination, so that a jar of instant coffee is pushed off the ledge when she grabs the one next to it. She flinches in anticipation of her ear splitting from the vibrant sounds of shattered glass, but a sigh of relief deflates her instead when it fluently transitions into the catch of Hoseok’s palm.

Her lips pull into a taut purse that a self-deprecative “Shit, sorry” pries its way out of.

The sympathy doesn’t depart from his eyes as his voice adorns something tender and comforting in the delicate utterance of her name. “This is not your fault, you know?”

He means the condition of her familiar, not necessarily the coffee jar she nearly splintered.

The features of her face soften and traces a faint smile. “I know, thank you.” She catches the place above his elbow in a reassuring squeeze.

With Taehyung bedridden, the rest of the guys worked on rotation for her surveillance. Jimin attended class with her yesterday, Hoseok is running errands with her today, and Namjoon is accompanying her at the library study session tomorrow.

The bleakness that the familiar played in his tone in the last words he muttered to her had deterred her from visiting. And so, she now only knows him by the crudely pieced together fragments she’s received by mouth, all of which were unfortunately futile in alleviating her disquiets.

Nighttime poses as the largest threat – the perfect sheath of dusk for the summit of deviant activity, especially for those of supernatural existence. Hence, she has had Jungkook at a few arms’ lengths away for the past couple nights while she sleeps. After Taehyung, Jungkook succeeds in strength, making him the most qualified to guard against whatever tribulations are hiding in the night.

It didn’t come as easy to Jungkook to fall asleep just anywhere like it did for Taehyung though. The incubus effortlessly found slumber atop floorboards that were buffered by a mere pillow. Meanwhile, Jungkook finds himself tipping over windowsills and toppling over edges of bedframes when he even just grazes a snooze that wasn’t in his own bed. Tonight, he’s grating and rustling against the wood panels in a seemingly endless pursuit for a forgiving position on the ground, even with the layers of blankets and cushions she’s assembled into a makeshift sleeping bag.

The girl mirrors his sleeplessness with her own.

“Jungkook,” she sighs and elevates her shoulders in bed with the prop of her elbow. “Go home.”

Jungkook twists his head around to her, and the quick of his reaction only confirms how estranged he is to sleep.

“Go home,” she repeats with a sadness when she reads the barren in his irises, loud even in the shadows. “Get some rest in your own bed.”

“I can’t just leave you alone. Especially at night.” A grog swathes his voice.

“I’ll be fine. And you can’t fend anything off when you’re so worn out anyway.”

She speaks in gentle volumes that envelopes a vivid, sincere plead, and it sits him up with an uncertain hand raking against the nape of his neck. Another word of reassurance from her, accompanied by the overwhelming craving for his cold bedsheets that promises an uninterrupted rest, and Jungkook leaves by her bedroom window.

The girl flattens back down onto her bed, breathing in with relief the still hush that’ll encourage her own unbroken slumber. And she’s allowed to think that for about six minutes, until the fabric of Taehyung’s clothes susurrate against her window frame.

Initially unidentified, the noises rattle her with a wince. Even after recognizing him as he faces her in a slump on the sill, her bones still shiver at the glimpse of the near eerie paleness of his skin, glowing as if dimness is no deterrent. His wounded arm seems to have recovered most of its mobility, but the bandages that hide the scene suggest that the gashes remained vulnerable. Before her exasperation could carve words questioning why he was out of bed, he breaks the air with his own gritted vex.

“You know you can’t be alone, especially at night.”

She deflates, head wilting on her shoulders. She doesn’t want an argument at this time of night while she’s been brewing in this state of turmoil, but it’s what he greets her with after his interval of cold seclusion that he started curtly, unjustly. The sigh that empties from her chest is hefty. “Jungkook wasn’t sleeping. He needs sleep.”

The familiar lets go of his own disheartened exhale as he falls deeper against the wooden frame. He’s reminded of what a fussy sleeper the youngest is and recalls the absence that occupied his stare when he arrived home moments ago. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

She purses her lips tightly. “Are you in any state to do that?” her counter is frail, concerned. “How are you feeling?” she tries.

“I’m fine.”

He’s a broken record that recites the same acquainted phrase that evades any delving honesty. It’s delivered just as blunt as any other time, and it bullies her already faltering spirit to wane further. A corner of her forehead sinks into the flat of her palm.

He swallows, recognizing that even a hush couldn’t disguise the bleakness that left his lips and elicited the dispirited surrender in her silent reply. His heart sits a little heavier in his chest. He softens his tone this time as the pang of remorse inspires him to browse the surface of transparency. “I’ve been resting. I’m healing. I’ll return back to normal in a few days.”

Finally, he offers a trace of accessibility, and it’s enough to lift her peer to directly meet his eyes. She drives the crescent of her nails into her palms. “But you won’t.” The blanched quality that swamps his irises will certainly remain a few days from now, an eternity even if he keeps eluding her like this. Her legs swing to flatten her soles on the floor. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t need anything from you,” he speaks without hesitation, and it ties a hurtful knot in her gut.

His blatant lies would’ve enthused her anger if she wasn’t already submerged in hurt. “Why are you doing this? We both know very well there’s something I can do for you. You’re like this because of me, because of what you do for me, and because of what you’ll continue to do for me until you’re on the brink of death.” Composure is held at a grand length away from her. A gale of frustrated words sputters from her lips while tight fists rigidly fixed at her sides drain of colour. “So why won’t you let me do this for you? It’s what you need and it’s what you’ve been trying to do since the day we met.”

“That’s just it!” he at last grazes a volume that strays from the safety of scripted detachment. “You just feel indebted because you blame yourself. It’s not your fault, and I won’t take advantage of you like that.” With the upset sigh that follows from his chest, his eyes slope down to the wooden panels of the floor rather than confronting the perseverance in her stare.

He is distraught, and yet it spreads a warmth to ease the twinge inside her, because it was his cold front pulling back to reveal unpolluted intentions fostered by his concern for her. He’s thwarted by the idea that he’s forcing a hand over her. Except, he hadn’t realized – and maybe, she hadn’t either – the craving for him that’s taken her from the start.

The sheets are squeezed between her fingers as, in the brief interval of a soundless air between them, a subtle muse of what if’s ghosts in her mind. Then, a few modest movements pull her off the bed. “Taehyung,” the wisp of his name travels on a thin breath. A few more timid strides retire the distance between them.

His jaw tightens in response, gaze still resolute in being her stranger. “Don’t—“

She carefully dips to her knees in front of him, so that she falls under the meet of his eyes. His breath hitches in the cap of his throat when he distinguishes a lace of longing weaved in her irises. A clench claims his muscles when her meek fingers overlap his with tantalizing delicacy.

“I want you.”

Taehyung remains unmoving alongside her docile tenor, but it is him refusing to let the charge of anticipation from within reach the surface before he confirms the allure that she projects. “Don’t say things you can’t take back.” There’s a gravel in his voice composed by the restraint that occupies him.

“I haven’t.” The whine in her whisper is nearly invisible, yet it couldn’t evade his refined senses. The weakness that gains on her only confirms her declaration. She shakes in her respires as she climbs her nose closer to his. His grazing hot breath paints her face with deep colours. “I want you,” she repeats so that in their new abbreviated vicinity, he could catch in full her radiating desire.

Inhibitions evaporated, Taehyung immerses in his hunger.

His lips crush against hers with fever before he’s greedily drinking in the gasp that fogs over his tongue from her mouth. The deficit of withheld indulgence abounds him with a ravenous impatience, and it shows in the way his palms splay the nape of her neck and the small of her back to further sink him into unventured depths of her kisses. He drapes her tongue in the invigored vibrations of his hum when he feels her small hands gain desperate clutches on his shoulders while she’s fighting to catch up with his gluttonous pace. The inundation that cripples her breath afflicts just the same tremors in her kneel atop the unaccommodating floorboards. Her limbs stutter, her lungs give, and she’s forced to just barely break from his lips with a pant. It echoes in his ear with a lust that sings to his animal quality.

He catches her before a space is able to exist between their chests, and the heat doesn’t depart even when he’s haste in moving to lay her down in bed with his own frame a meld atop hers. While his lips close right back in with the rake of his teeth that seeks to swell her bottom plump, scarce surges course his body in reminder of what the rapture of revitalization feels like. The taster of an energy that is soon to be brimming coaxes his appetite to thunder, so that his zeal refuses to break himself from the caresses of her tongue if he were to slide the tank top over her head. Instead, he drags the straps down her shoulders while their wet warmths continue to cushion around one another.

She is just as starved, and the tugging that torrents between her thighs to the stretch of her lower abdomen is a tireless reminder of just so. Rejecting any leave from his kisses as well, her back arcs in allowing him ease in peeling her top down further, just until her breasts meet the naked air. It’s a short encounter, because Taehyung is keen to fill his palm with its suppleness, the cave of his hand rolling circles with the punctuation of burrowing nails. All the while, his mouth drops to catch her other nipple and feel it pebble against his tongue. Her chest flitters under his ardent touches in mirror of her respires that had rid themselves of her control. The saturation that grows between her legs makes her frantic in pulling the back of his shirt up over his neck, anxious to relish in the bliss of flushed skin against flushed skin.

The writhing legs hooked around his hips has him dragging a smirk down the length of her torso, trailing raw redness that will bloom purple the next day. The salt of her skin is of an inebriating flavour. The drifting smell of her slick desire enthrals him to a carnal degree. The pulsing gains on him more and more. It all debilitates him just enough that he forgets to overlap judgement with action, and the pair of shorts he meant to glide down her legs hadn’t even reached her knees before they were frayed cloths completely torn from her figure. He’s even taken her panties with it, and as soon as her wet cunt is chilled by the cool air that kisses it, a moan of his name announcing her vulnerability shivers from her lips. And it keeps him from restoring any remnant of restraint.

Taehyung is eager to feel the sodden gloss of her slit for himself, and an unrelenting hand captures both of her wrists above her head to fix her in place for him to do just so. The pads of his fingers run a thorough trail that spreads the sheen for her to feel what an indecent mess she’s made of herself. All the while, he casts an unwavering gaze over her, indulging in the visceral reactions that rips through her.

Her helplessness roars under his stare, inspiring her to squirm against his touches that mercilessly walk the line between a ghost and a fulfillment. With hips innately rolling into the shapes he draws on her clit and walls fanatically clenching in a plead to be stretched, she climbs to a desperation that has her gasping for a breath. “Taehyung, please, I want it already.” Choked are her groans, but her imploring eyes flicker to find his in assisting her appeal.

Every element of her existence screams with need, and he wants it just as much—he needs it even more. But the sight of her hysteria to be filled by him is riveting.

“Hm? Want what?” His digits retreat from her sopping cunt and it earns him a gulp of relief from her, thinking that he was finally going to accommodate with his cock. Instead, Taehyung is grotesquely leisure in travelling his index to his mouth. His lips catch the dribble around his knuckle while his stare is resilient against her own rolling vision as he enjoys her taste. He tastes her like she belongs to him, and he’s awfully convincing.

“Fuck me, Taehyung.” She’s breathless as her thighs shudder against each other to demonstrate her restlessness for friction, impatient to be filled by him.

It is as if he intends to extort her suffering when he pushes his still saturated middle finger into her own mouth, splaying her own flavour across the cavity. She then works resolutely to lap the length to prove of her mania. He huffs a billow of something between a taunt and fascination to disguise the irreparable extent of how hypnotized he really was.

His bound on her wrists slacken, and he watches raptly as she hardly allows even a second to exist before her thirst drives her to pry herself from his grasp and lower to the tent in his pants. While she palms his hard-on, they sync in groans of urgency. Feeling the throb of it in her clasp even over his clothes peaks her greed, so she moves without waste when she straightens up and tears the waistband down his hips.

A purr rolls from her throat in finally having the heat of his cock in her hold, and she’s eager to spiral her thumb around the glisten that sheaths the rose tip. She’s mesmerized as she sizes his shaft against her hand.

“F-Fuck.” His daunting girth reels a curse from her lips before she’s able to catch it.

Has she even seen anything comparable to him? The sheer length of him makes her mouth crave to taste him, to stretch around him, to abrade the cap of her throat. But her greater hunger is the swelter between her legs. A single grip pumps his member a few times while her other hand dives past her pelvis, fingering her entrance and parting her digits in trying to stretch herself in preparation for him.

It’s a shamelessly lewd sight that has him viciously vexed towards any more delay. He hooks around the back of her knees and pulls brusquely so that she falls flat on her back. Hisses of greed brim his mouth as he grazes her slick folds with the aching head of his cock, previewing of the pleasurable tightness that’s to come and the vitalization that’ll follow.

“Yes, please,” she again begs in the currency of whispers and quaking limbs.

Taehyung is gradual as he pushes into her. Her neck cranes until it strains and her head is abysmally sunk into the pillow. Her eyes roll back until she feels the pulling of a stressed nerve. “Oh my god, you’re so—oh,” she gasps for a breath that seems to be at an unreachable distance when he’s filled her to the hilt. Her brows squeeze together and the seam of her lips adopt a taut purse as she is sorely inexpert against his overwhelming size.

He has to softly call her name a few times to reclaim her attention from the loud ache. His fingers frame the side of her face as he searches for her eyes. “We can stop.” The twist she wears in her expression convinces him that it’s a sensible suggestion.

“No!” she pants, desperate, as she embraces him closer so he doesn’t leave and take with him the linger of bliss that was beginning to surface. “More,” her untidy kisses drag along his jaw to sway him, “please, please.”

His hand braces on the mattress next to her head as a strangled sigh empties from his chest when she writhes in chase of movement. It amplifies the pulses that colonizes his entirety in a way that boasts of a point of no return. He gives in to the brash craving, and his hips adopt a steady rock that wrings him of a guttural moan.

Taehyung moves with a curbed pace, and yet she stretches from him to an unmapped capacity. It’s an otherworldly trance, an unparalleled fever. Every careful lunge has the ridges of his amply fulfilling size grazing every curve of her walls, exploiting her for every elated sound she is capable of. And for every one of her whines that gain in volume and colour, he mirrors with the heavying of his thrusts, meeting each of her clenches with a grunt that speaks of his own summiting appetite.

“So fucking tight,” he hisses, nothing short of predatory, “so fucking good.”

It’s not long until he’s already teasing a cap of nerves that floods her with ecstasy, prompting her arms and legs to envelop his strong frame in fervently inviting the depth. She’s forced to drive the clamp her teeth down on his shoulder to bite back the lurid moans that threatens to wrench from her mouth with alarming noise. It comes as a displeasure to the familiar, because he pulls out of her only to plunge back in with a remorseless force that drives her crown into the bed’s headboard.

“I want to hear you.” The animal vibrations of his peeved growl are palpable against the flush of her skin.

The escaped yelp of startle urges her to pack her knuckles between her teeth. “B-but—neighbours,” she shakes gracelessly in her words under the pound of his cock.

“I don’t care. Let me hear you.”

She couldn’t protest against the brute in his voice or the alien strength in each of his heaves, so a cry of pleasure is quick to follow, and it casts a smug quality over his grin. He huffs proudly at the depth he gains and the squeaks it earns him. He feels every shiver, every twitch, every rhythm under him with an immaculately sharp perception. His forehead falls against hers, connecting her pitched mewls with his gravelly groans, as he’s coerced further into a yield against the restoring vivacity that demands a deeper burrow, a greedier pace. He’s entranced, palming the base of her throat to fix her down so she has nowhere to go but to take all of him in. He eases his thorough sliding to cavernous depths with the throw of her legs over his shoulders.

The unacquainted pleasure hoods her eyes and hazes any thoughts that weren’t carnal, yet she couldn’t dismiss the foreign fire behind his eyes now, framed by the colours returning to his skin. His movements drive with a ravenous haste and power, as if exhaustion is a distant stranger. Her thrilled hums escalate to gasping shrieks when he starts ramming into her like he wants to fuck her into the mattress. Her skin threatens to tear under his raking fingers, and her hips stutter with ache with each of his untiring thrusts. The bed groans to all corners of the steamed room under their tenacious rock.

“Oh! Taehyung!” she is winded, the flat of her hands frantically grappling across his chest when the fleshy fold of nerves twinges with every meet of his laden length.

A panic hitches his breath in his throat and suspends his movement, “Shit.” Concern displaces the blaze in his irises. “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” she pants, restlessness plaguing her every tenor, “I like it.” She reassures with a hand that swipes at the beads of sweat collecting between his brows and trickling down his chin. While the break is appreciated for her to catch her breath, the throb that claims her walls only promises that she is desperate for more. She convinces him just so with the eager capture of his lips with her own, where a ghost of a plead exists in between. “Please don’t stop.”

Taehyung holds himself still there above her — a short moment yet feeling like perpetuity to her — as his eyes show a ponder. Her mouth starts to carve a displeased whine he pulls away, and with him the leave of his cock from the sheath of her heat. But it is extinguished before finding sound when his intimate warmth cascades down her spine instead. The incubus moves her on her side to lay beside her back, his chest moulding against her shoulders.

An elated whimper shivers from her tongue when he pulls her top thigh towards his hip before carefully gliding back in her. Their new position limits his reach and curbs his haste, which is likely his intention. Though she was within the vicinity of unbridled bliss that came with the soreness of his primal strides, she is just ecstatic to be filled by him again.

His arm that slithers under her holds her chest as if asserting possession, while their hips roll together with attuned fluency. He keeps her figure close and hot against him as he loses himself again in the loud sounds of her cunt wet with desire, of sweaty skin slapping and grinding against each other as he drills into her.

It seems like Taehyung’s gone on for ages, longer than she’s ever experienced before, yet his intensity seemingly refuses to falter. The brimming of her cunt by his delectable lunges is edging her closer to the idyllic sensations of a springing coil. He must be in a mutual proximity, because his swift motions were straying from rhythm. He confirms with the profanities that punctuates his erratic respires.

“Yes, please, please, please.” A vibrant volume flares in her chest for her to invite his veer into a tempo that pumps into her as if to chastise her pretty pussy. Her whines soar madly when an onrush of exhilaration strangles her muscles and sends her hands in a thrash that’s frantic for purchase, finding it in the locks of his hair and the crumpled cushions of her bed. It’s a foreign unravel – she’s never had an orgasm quite like it, seemingly a sensation that’ll follow her until kingdom come.

Climax bleeds into every one of her nerves, and she continues to twitch against him while he is close behind. Clutching onto her for her to take the whole of his stuttering core, he nuzzles the crook of her neck with gruff sighs that announce loudly through clenched teeth, just barely grazing a thunder. He empties into her, his thick load drenching her quivering walls with a warmth that parts her lips with a delirious grin.

Hazy waves roll down her entirety while she catches her breath. A purr falls from her lips when the pull of his cock trails a hot dribble of his seed to the seams of her sex. As the lingers of her high recedes further and further, she feels more and more of the soreness that weighs on her body. So much so that she could only find enough dexterity to just turn her head to follow him when his temperature draws away before rolling onto his back.

The fog of her mind nearly sobers right up when she registers the aura that just about renders him unfamiliar. He glows with an energy that warns of rampant strength, even to her mortal eye. He tears the loosened bandages from his arm, revealing his lost need for it as only unblemished skin sits underneath. She even finds herself being taken back when his gaze picks up to find hers — his stare reads with an unearthly vigour.

Taehyung lifts his weight onto the prop of his elbow as he leans over her. Only in this abbreviated distance could she study the traces of guilt that weaves through his eyes. A gentle pull from him has her falling onto her back before he’s sweeping the matted hair from her blushing skin, like drawing back curtains to reveal the rouge rawness that streaks her shoulders. He follows the evidence of his previously burrowing fingers down to her chest, he waist, her thighs. Taehyung is silent, but the self-disappointment that consumes his expressions doesn’t need a voice to be loud. He had edged too close to losing control.

“I’m fine,” she angles his peer back up at her with the cup of her hands on his jaw. Wearing his marks is a sinful pleasure, really. Besides, it’s impossible to find any sliver of regret within the same vicinity as the best orgasm of her life. “That was…”

But she keeps herself from voicing such shameless admissions when she brings his digits to her lips, busying her mouth with the peppered kisses she runs along the length of his index. The greatest relief of all lies in the disappearance of his blanched skin and drained eyes.

The familiar might’ve leaned into her reassuring caresses, yet nonetheless he drags his tongue along the red bands on her skin, soothing the tenderness. It’s the least he could do for the replenishment. It is also for him too, to savour her touch and taste while his cock still feels, with pristine precision, the ghost of her tight wrap around him, threatening to be a memory he’ll never be able to get rid of.

Fucking him was just so good.

It’s been an echo that trespasses into every one of her unrelated thoughts, on top of the very related thoughts that already swarm her mind. Even though it’s been well over a week, even when she has the much more urgent event of final exams that demands her attention, even when she commits every waking hour to exhaustive study sessions, nothing is as domineering as the reminiscence of his outlandishly thick cock twitching in her hand and throbbing in the slick walls of her warmth. It’s a reminiscence that then inspires the restlessness to find out just how much of him she could take into her mouth, what his hot cum tastes like when it jets against the back of her throat that scratches with pain from the assault of his velvet tip.

Even now when he sits across from her, both of them fully clothed and residing in a context where lust comes to die – reviewing notes in a stuffy library filled with miserable students who share the same notoriously difficult final exam as her tomorrow morning – her cunt anxiously beats to stretch even with just the pump of his two fingers.

“According to relevant theory, a brain-expressed gene that leads to an offspring that cries less and therefore elicit less demands from the mother is…?” Taehyung quietly recites a potential test question from the top cue card of her prepared deck.

Even when he’s helping her study, she’s losing herself in the subtle grinding of his teeth. When his mouth is idle, Taehyung has a habit of chewing on a phantom piece of gum, which is what he’s been doing between questions. Unfailingly, it’s been reminding her of the teeth that had nipped her breasts to urge the bloom of purple, the faint bruised flowers that still stamped her collar bones under her shirt now.

He blinks at her silence, and interpreting it as an uninformed blank, he answers for her, “A maternally-imprinted/paternally-expressed gene.”

Her stare then fixes on his fingers that shuffle the card to the bottom, marvelling at the veins that trail down his hands, picturing how the entire ensemble would look absolutely handsome wrapped around her throat.

Fuck it. She can’t take it anymore. She wants him.

The girl shoots up from her seat.

“Ey, where are you—?”

Taehyung is left alone with his bewilderment unresolved when she departs before he could finish his whispered bafflement. He watches as she weaves around the tables of cramming students without turning around to offer any expression of explanation. She’s quick to then round the far corner and disappear behind the bookshelves that occupy the back quadrant of the room. When she fails to resurface from the pillars of archives after a few passing seconds, he concludes that he’ll have to follow her for answers himself. An exasperated huff pushes him up from his chair as he retraces her strides.

The incubus didn’t even need to peek through several rows to hunt for his owner, finding her alone behind the bookshelf she had initially ducked into, meaning she had stood still here waiting for him to come.

“What the fuck are you—?”

His puzzled frustration is cut short when she reels him in by the pull of his shirt, stammering on her tiptoes before ramming her lips against his. His shoulders clatters against the shelves when she avidly moves in to deepen her reach.

She is quick to turn the kiss wet, smiling into the messy collides of their mouths when he unwillingly sighs of surprise against her tongue. “Fuck me, Taehyung.” The breathless wisps of his name parts her lips, creating an inch that urges for the delve of his tongue against the cushion of her own. “I just want you to fuck me so bad.”

The sheer wanton of her raw words charges at him without anticipation. The utter urgency in her shoving herself into his mouth, even in such a reprehensible setting, has his arms innately looping her waist and tugging her closer until their knees touch. He nearly growls with delight, hungry hands slithering down to grasp the full of her hips, before the rigorous drumming that starts within reminds him of his overpowering capacity.

A dissatisfied snarl rumbles in the back of her throat when he pulls her away. “I can’t,” he sucks his teeth to tame the excruciating tension of interrupting such delicious indulgence. “I’m too strong right now. I’ll hurt you.”

His energy had just been refilled last week, and without much expenditure since, he risks the fulfillment of the inhumanly aggressive instincts that surfaced during their last encounter.

She forces herself back into his chest, starved for the very ache he warns her of. “Then fucking do it. I want it.” Her lips dripping with venom might as well have carved out the word “coward” for him.

His brow cocks with vex from being tested, and from the arousal that begins its sear from within. But the offensive scold of “Don’t” channels past his gritted teeth before he’s creating distance between their waists again.

A peeved huff billows from her nose. But really, his restraint only kindles her desire to taunt his boundaries before ultimately evaporating it. Tearing her glare away from him, she peers to the terminal of the bookshelves, where a single row of study carrels lines the back wall. She had initially ducked behind these shelves to find cover for her lust away from witnesses, but she forecasts that the opposite might in fact rile her familiar.

She strides away from him and towards the cubicle desks, beaming with mischief in finding that they each sat a couple meters apart from each other. The one she arrives at is vacant, while the flanking tables are occupied by students studying with their heads ducked down out of her sight below the perimeter of partitions. It grants her just enough privacy to get away with what she’s about to do, yet bordering just close enough to being a disgraceful spectacle that provokes him.

The girl spins on her feet to face him while he remains standing a few arm’s lengths away. She rascally grins at the perplexed crease between his brows above curiously watchful eyes before heaving herself onto the tabletop surface. She leans back onto the cubicle walls that surrounds behind her before popping the buttons of her denim shorts. The bottom pillow of her lips glistens under the swipe of her tongue when she catches the clench in his jaw and the flare in his nostrils. Dragging the loosened waistband down her thighs until it falls to the dangle of one of her ankles, she arranges for his unobstructed view when her feet props up on the desk’s edge and her parted knees draw to her chest. Her fingers dive in between, and she’s immodest as she leans into each stroke she presses against the growing patch of moisture on her panties. A sultry giggle with scarce volume overlaps the laden breaths that empties from her chest when shadows of anger dances with shades of temptation in the darks of his irises.

She sways her glance towards her unparticipating neighbours, finding that her quiet pants have evaded their studious concentration, and the desk barriers were effective shields for her lower body from any surrounding eyes. So, she finds thrill in the fret of being found out, and an even lusher excitement in watching his defences wither. She lets the blistering heat consume her when her fingers glide under her panties and there, continue a knead of shapes against her naked, sopping cunt. The seams of her grin tuck under her teeth at the spellbinding skin contact in the fervent roll of her digits, as if chasing for them to cramp up. A pride lights up her face when the tension in Taehyung’s balled fists and the unforgiving purse in his lips is a tell that, even while she tries to remain below an ascertainable threshold of noise, his shrill senses pick up the slick sounds of her fondling her glossy pussy.

The mischief that hoods her gaze with a seduction has him exasperated by her audacity, yet effectively stirred by a craving to have his way with her. His glare swivels between the bliss spread across her face and the tight circles she traces against her clit. But when her lewd mewls escalate to graze a measure that’s enough to capture the attention of the boy on her left, who begins to inquiringly pick up his head, Taehyung’s quick to remove her from the situation.

With unearthly speed, the incubus closes in to gather her into his arms before withdrawing to the veil of the towering bookshelves. The thought of anyone else being a viewer to her erotic theatre is a detestable concept that he’ll vehemently deny success. He demands to be her only spectator.

His mouth crashes down onto hers to smother the titter of victorious delight that would’ve soared from her throat. When had she moved from the study carrel to being shoved up against the column of books escapes her, but she’s instead wholly occupied by the elation of being the receiving end of his pent-up appetite that is now uninhibited in the absence of onlookers.

“You want it that fucking bad, huh?”

She whimpers with anticipation against the predator in his voice. He reduces her to a victim against the antagonistic bites he leaves on her lips. A gasp exists between the parting of their lips when he’s rough and abrupt in spinning her around until her face and chest scrape against book spines and wooden planks. With her back to him, a harsh yank has her panties in a drape around her knees. The shivers that overtake her are violent when he drops to a kneel and his hot breath steams against her saturated slit. Unforgiving hands grappling her upper thighs part her ass cheeks for him to marvel at the wet anticipation that glistens in between, drawing a gruff hum of greed from the depths of his throat.

Then, shock rushes through her before anything else when his mouth closes in on her sex. She twitches at the contact she was so anxious for, irrepressible as if to confess to him that he’s robbed her body of autonomy. A quavering sigh departs her when he mutters a praise about her slickness and taste while his lips cycle the capture and release of her folds. He grazes with his nose when he moves to lap her clit, relishing in all of the trickling desire he presses out of her. The barrier of her teeth driven down on her lips tries to curb the voice that begs to break the still air with a brazen volume, while her hips are untameable as it grinds along with the thorough pushes and strokes of his wet muscle.

But then, he starts fucking her with his meticulous tongue.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Tae—” she’s pried of a low yet audible tone that trembles with fever. The rows of books take the assault of her hands that are frantic for a concrete grasp.

He withdraws just the slightest, enough for her to hear, “Is this what you wanted, Princess?”

A relentless shudder courses through her. By everyone else, that address is used for respect, a friendly familiarity. On the other hand, she has never ever heard it touch the tip of his tongue. But now, it rolls from his lips as a corrupting taunt, and her body responds. Thirst boils her, as if she aches to hear him say it again, to degrade her again.

“You wanted to be heard, right?” Taehyung denies her recovery from his tongue-fucking, because it’s replaced by the unforgiving thrust of his two fingers. “Let’s hear you then, Princess.”

His unwavering regard nails to her, drinking in how lustfully she writhes with a core that couldn’t help but snap to meet his strokes. He hisses of approval at the painting of pleasure she leaves on his fingers.

And then, Taehyung gets what he wants when, to pair with the pumping digits that curl inside her, he invites his mouth back onto her throbbing bead. She implores that no unsuspecting patrons were anywhere within a few pillars from her, because her throat opens with a wanton whine.

He sucks generously as his hand doesn’t tire, and feeling her walls pulse around him confronts him with the realization that his composure is also evaporating by the sweet desperation of her pleads. He yields to the urge of watching the pleasure unravel across her face.

Taehyung drops down into a seat, pulling her to the ground with him. He sits up against the bookshelf with her on his lap. She straddles him, yet object of his dominating eyes, she effectively feels trapped under him. Then, feeling a stiff poke on her thigh derails all other thoughts and solely reminds her of her yearn for his cock. She eagerly rids his tent of the obstructing clothes, indulging in the possessive quality that flickers across his expression. However, before she could lift her core to position her entrance over his rosy head sheened by a film of pre-cum, he instead latches onto her waist to lower her back down onto his thigh where he steers a sway.

He’s still denying her the fill of his cock in wary of his erratic power, but so desperate for release, she’ll submit to anything that’ll get her just that. Hips convulsing from the violent pressure between her thighs, she hysterically chases for contact and finds it in the friction of grinding against the fabric of his pants. Shudders of pleasure claim her limbs as she dyes a damp pool on his lap. He applies a little more caution this time in gripping her skin, before his strength leaves behind painful markings familiar to their last encounter.

His inhale that carries a gluttonous hiss is a tell that he is hypnotized by the motions of her rolling abdomen. She wants to watch his undoing just as much, so she finds the base of his cock with the swath of her palms. She glides the length to support her ambition, and her persistence propells him into a stifling fervour. He sinks his head back into the rack of hardcovers as he groans a carnal thread of praise and profanities.

Her hushed moans climbing in pitch warns him of her incoming release. Her one hand pumping of his dick is hastening and straying from grace, while the other anxiously grits onto his shoulder for balance until they paled. The feel of her, the sight, the smell, the tune of her is so delicious, he’s climbing towards a blinding hot pressure faster than ever before. His hoarse groans pry through teeth that clenches at the tension colonizing his muscles. He keeps up the toe-curling abuse on her swollen clit against the grate of his leg until orgasm slams down on her.

Her mouth begins to carve out the words of her euphoria, but she’s unable to finish in the overriding boil of her core. Her hips stutter wildly, yet remaining in complement to her sliding palm on his shaft until he shot his hot load in a splay across her shirt. It goes unnoticed as the ecstasy that surges through her instead elicits breathless songs of elation.

Taehyung watches with mesmerisation at how beautifully her climax carries out. While the retreating currents of climax slackens his limbs, his focus doesn’t dare stray from her, wishing the movie of bliss in her expressions would never end.

Panting as if her lungs had been deprived and the stuffy air surrounding her is a tantalizing treat, the waves of her body slow to a stop once her high passes and she’s submerged in a weightlessness. Her thoughts are beginning to fall into the enclosure of a heavenly daze when her limp gaze falls onto the ribbons of his cum that sprays across her chest.

“Oh,” she murmurs with a tickle of a mischievous chuckle. But she finds out that she doesn’t need to concern herself with how she was going to leave and show her face with sex stains in her clothes, because one by one, the ceiling lights flicker off.

Amidst their orgasms, they hadn’t realized that the library had closed.

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[shawnsassymendes]

Best Friend’s Brother

a/n: sorry man i just love this trope also aaliyah and reader are in college in this thing but shawns the same age. so the difference between shawn and aaliyah would be like idk 2-3 years?

synopsis: your best friend bails on your movie night, so you end up going with her brother.

wc: 3.2k

{Masterlist in Bio}

____________________

You walked up to the front door of your best friend’s childhood home. It was winter break so everyone was back home, leaving a few students at the dorms of the University of Toronto. One of them being you. 

Your best friend of almost 10 years now lived in the suburbs that neighboured Toronto. Only a half hour drive from the dorms. You drove up to Pickering every Wednesday and Saturday during break to have your bi weekly movie night with Aaliyah.

You never minded the drive, of course. She was your best friend and you couldn’t bear staying at your dorm with nothing to do all winter break long. You couldn’t really afford a trip back home right now.

“Liyah, I’m here!” You called out as you unlocked the door. You were given a spare key to the Mendes household as soon as you could drive.

“I’m in my room!” Aaliyah yelled out.

You walked up the stairs and entered Aaliyah’s room. She was slipping on a black silk top over her dark wash high waisted skinny jeans. “A bit much for movie night?” You remarked, plopping down on her bed.

“Movie night?” Aaliyah’s knitted brows slowly rose to her hairline. “Oh my god, movie night! I’m so sorry y/n, I thought it was Friday!” 

You groaned and tipped your head back. “Liyah, what the hell? Please don’t tell me Jordan’s coming.”

Aaliyah’s face became riddled with guilt. “Jordan’s already outside.” She smiled sheepishly, pointing at her boyfriend’s car through the window.

“I fucking hate you. What the fuck am I gonna do with the tickets?” You pulled out the tickets from your purse and waved them in her face.

“You can go alone? You always said you wanted to try that?” Aaliyah said as he adjusted her bra to show more cleavage.

“Not today I don’t! I’m going with your mom, she’s much better company anyways.” You huffed, getting up to go find Karen. 

“Mom’s not here. She’s out with friends.”

“Then who’s home?” You were hoping she would say Manny because movies with him were always entertaining. The answer you really didn’t want her to say was exactly what she did say.

“Just Shawn.” She shrugged before her eyes went wide and a grin spread over her face. 

“Don’t even think about it. I’m not going. I’ll stay here until you come back and we can watch whatever’s on Netflix until sunrise. I’m not gonna go with him.” You crossed yours arms over your chest and sat on her desk chair.

“But you know you wanna.” Aaliyah smirked, pulling you up from the chair. “This crush has been going on for too long. Come on, if you go with him tonight I’ll take you to the fancy French place for dinner. You know the one, Aubergine du Pompadour.” She said the name of the restaurant with the worst French accent you could imagine, replacing every word with whatever sounded like it fit in.

“Auberge du Pommier.” You rolled your eyes, correcting her. “That place is hella expensive, Liyah. We can’t go. You know I can hardly afford gas.”

“Who said I’d let you pay?” She scoffed. “Shawnie boy gave me his card for Christmas. Told me to go crazy. Consider this part of your Christmas present.” Aaliyah grinned, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

You sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Were you really considering this? Yes, definitely. You’ve had a crush on Shawn since forever. He was always nice to you, helping you out whenever he could. But you were sure he just saw you as a little sister.

“Okay.” You whispered, head still tilted back.

“Oh my god, really?” Aaliyah squealed.

“Yeah, but only as friends. I’m not gonna try to do anything. We’re just friends. Just my best friend’s brother.” You confirmed, looking Aaliyah in the eye.

“My best friend’s brother, my best friend’s brother. BFB, BFB, my best friend’s brother is the one for me.” Aaliyah sang in a low voice, not wanting her brother to hear.

“Shut it!” You hissed, struggling not to smile.

“Liyah baby, you ready?” Jordan asked as he walked into the room. “Hey y/n!” He shot you a smile.

“Jordan, you are dead to me.” You replied, picking up a pillow from the bed and throwing it at him.

Jordan caught it with ease. “The fuck did I do?”

“Why are you taking her on a date today? It’s movie night!” You whined, incredibly close to jumping up and down like a toddler having a tantrum.

“Oh shit, sorry y/n. Thought it was Friday.” Jordan winced, placing the pillow back on the bed.

You rolled your eyes and shot him a glare. “What the fuck have you guys been smoking, it’s Wednesday.”

Jordan came up behind Aaliyah and pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her torso. “I was telling her, she should go with Shawn.” Aaliyah told her boyfriend, looking up at him.

“Oh, that’s a good idea!” Jordan smiled, looking back at you. “Finally gonna make a move?”

“Not in a million years.” 

“Still thinks he sees her as a little sister.” Aaliyah grumbled.

Jordan chuckled. “Mhm, sure. Let’s pretend you two didn’t make out at that-”

“It was one time!” You cut him off, eyes wide. “Besides, he was drunk. Doesn’t even remember it.”

Jordan raised his brows at you, as if to ask if you were serious. “He told you that?”

“Uh, no. He didn’t say anything after, just assumed he forgot.” Your voice trailed off.

“Pfft, alright whatever. We have a reservation we’re gonna be late for.” Aaliyah piped up, looking pointedly at Jordan.

“Yeah, we do. You want me to drop you off at your dorm or are you going to the movie?” Jordan asked, taking his keys out of his pocket.

“No, I’m gonna see if Shawn wants to go. If he doesn’t, I’ll just go home. Have fun you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” You smiled as you handed Aaliyah her coat.

“How about you stay over, eh? We can have a sleepover when we get back.” Aaliyah asked, putting her hands on your shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” She gave you a kiss on the cheek before she left the room, leaving you to your own devices.

You spread yourself out on the bed, listening to Aaliyah and Jordan drive off while you thought of what to do next. 

You could always just throw the tickets away. Never ask Shawn and stay the night. Tell Aaliyah he said no and that you went alone. But she would definitely ask Shawn why he said no. And he would be as clueless as ever. She would get pissed that you lied. Ugh too much trouble.

You hopped off the bed and headed to Shawn’s room before you changed your mind. You knocked the door three times and stepped back. 

“Coming!” Shawn’s voice could be heard through the door. He opened it and his eyes landed on you, causing a smile to spread across his face. “Hey, y/n. How are you?” He hoped his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

“I’m good. How about you? When did you come home?” Small talk wasn’t your favorite, but any words exchanged with Shawn were precious.

“Just a couple days ago. Staying here until Christmas, but then I’m going back to my place. You coming here for Christmas this year?” You were probably just high off of being around him, but it was almost like Shawn sounded hopeful.

“Uh, yeah I am.” You replied, looking down at the carpeted floors. You knew if you explained why, Shawn wouldn’t hesitate to offer you a ticket home and you were in no way going to accept that. So you changed the subject “Listen, I booked two tickets for a movie, but Liyah bailed on me. I was hop-thinking, maybe you would wanna... come with?”

“Of course! I mean uh, yeah sure. When does it start?” Shawn asked, retreating into his room to change out of his sweatpants you assumed. 

“We’ve still got plenty of time. Starts in two hours. Liyah and I usually take the long way to listen to more songs. That’s why I’m here so early.” You explained, wiping your palms against your jean clad thighs.

“No worries.” Shawn smiled, looking you over. He perked up when he saw what you were wearing. “Nice hoodie.” He smirked.

You looked down and saw that you were wearing the Pine Ridge hoodie Shawn had given you ages ago. You hadn’t attended Pine Ridge, so Shawn knew it was his. “Don’t get cocky, now.” You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“Who said anything about cocky?” 

“That look on your face says cocky. I’ll be waiting downstairs.” 

Your conversation with Aaliyah and Jordan echoed in your mind as you walked down the stairs. It was like they knew something you didn’t. It was like they knew for certain that Shawn liked you back. But that was impossible. Maybe they were bluffing to get you to act on your feelings. But Jordan... how did Jordan know about the kiss?

Shawn kissed you at his birthday party during the summer. It was so abrupt and sudden and he was pulled away immediately afterwards, leaving you all alone. After Shawn made no attempt to contact you the day after, you kept it a secret for so long. You told Aaliyah a full two months after it happened. She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone, and Aaliyah never breaks her promises. So who the hell told Jordan?

“Your car or mine?” Shawn’s words broke your train of thought, shaking you out of your trance to look at him pulling on his shoes on the staircase.

“Yours, I’m all outta gas.” You chuckled.

“You gonna be okay to go home?” You couldn’t help but feel a few butterflies batting their wings in your stomach at the slight protectiveness you were getting from him.

“I’m staying over, but I’ll figure something out tomorrow. Come on, I have a playlist in mind.” You skipped your way out of the house, scrolling through your phone to find the playlist.

You walked to the passenger side of Shawn’s Jeep, waiting to hear him unlock the car. When you heard the beep, you pulled the car door open only for it to still be locked. You looked up to find Shawn standing near the Tesla and not the Jeep.

“I thought we could take this one for tonight. We always use the Jeep.” Shawn shrugged.

“That’s because I love the Jeep. Come on Shawn, you know I’m not one for fancy shit.” You looked at him and nodded towards the Jeep one more time.

“Whatever you want, honey.” There they were again, those pesky butterflies. 

You climbed into the car and connected your phone to the car bluetooth. You hit shuffle on the playlist you had ready as Shawn buckled up.

“I love this song.” Shawn smiled, head bopping to the melody. Shawn looked at the screen that he had installed where the radio used to be. “Is the playlist called Shawn?”

“Yup.” 

“Why do you have a playlist called Shawn?”

“I have a playlist ready for anyone I might be in a car with. There’s Liyah, there’s Jordan, there’s Liyah and Jordan. I have their song on there ‘cause the look on their faces when it comes on is so adorable. And one for my mom and your mom and you know, a lot of people.” You scrolled through your playlists, naming them and explaining little things about each one.

“That’s cute.” Shawn pointed out. “The thing about Aaliyah and Jordan. That you know their song. I don’t even know their song.”

“Mm, perks of being the best friend.” 

You and Shawn easily slipped into conversation, stopping every once in a while to sing along loudly to any particular song. You noticed half an hour into the drive that the 15 minute ride to the movie theater was taking much longer than usual. Shawn was taking the long way... 

When you arrived, there was about 10 minutes left before the movie would start. Shawn missed a lot of turns apparently. You walked in and got your snacks and beverages and went to your screen.

You had no clue why you had booked this movie because it was the cheesiest rom-com you had ever seen. It came to the point where it was a full on comedy for you. You were glad Aaliyah hadn’t come with you to see it because she would have hated it. Shawn however, found it absolutely hilarious.

You snickers kept getting you glares and loud hushes to be quiet from the movie goers around you. 

"Hey, you wanna get out of here? The park’s like two minutes away.” Shawn whispered into your ear about halfway through the movie.

“I thought you’d never ask.” You snickered. You let Shawn take your hand and lead you out of the cinema.

You walked in a comfortable silence towards the park nearby, hands still intertwined. But you weren’t the one keeping track.

“We used to come to this park all the time in high school, remember?” Shawn reminisced, holding out a swing for you. You slipped on and nodded for Shawn to get on the one next to you.

“I remember. I miss those nights. We were such kids.” You chuckled, digging your boot covered feet in the snow beneath you.

“Tell me about it.” Shawn scrunched his nose. “I had my first kiss here. I think it was 8th grade.”

“No way, me too!” You smiled, turning to Shawn. “Who was yours?”

“Betty Stevens. You?”

“Jordan.” You grimaced.

“What? No way!” Shawn laughed. “Does Aaliyah know?”

“Of course she does! I would never do that to her. It was spin the bottle back in 9th grade. He was super sweet about it, though.” You smiled, remembering him asking if you were okay with it.

Shawn scoffed. “Why the hell were a bunch of freshmen playing spin the bottle at a public park?”

“I honestly don’t remember.” You laughed. “Remember that bonfire we had at the beach one time. It was a bunch of your friends and Liyah and I tagged along. The one where Brian stripped and jumped into the freezing water. That’s one of my favorite memories, you know?”

“I remember that night. Me too, but the Brian part isn’t what makes it one of my favorite.” Shawn smiled, inching his swing closer to yours.

“Ugh, shut up. You know what I mean.” You rolled your eyes in response, hitting his boot with your own. “That night, when everyone left and it was just you, me, and Liyah. And we just talked all night long. Didn’t come home till the sun was up. I love that memory.”

“My mom got so mad at me that night. For keeping you guys out all night long to watch the sunrise.” Shawn chuckled, his hand now holding one chain from his swing and one from yours.

“You never told me that.”

"It didn’t matter because it was so worth it.” 

“Why is that?”

“Because you love watching the sunrise.”

You and Shawn walked back to the car, hand in hand. The drive home just as long as the drive to the theater, and just as full of butterflies. 

When you got home, you slowly unlocked the front door as to not wake anyone up. Tip toeing up the steps until you reached Aaliyah’s room.

“y/n?” Shawn whispered, taking both of your hands into his. “Do you wanna go on a date?”

“Like a date date?” You whispered back, eyes blown wide.

“Mhm, at the Auberge du Pommier. I know you’ve been wanting to go.” Shawn nodded.

“I have.” You replied.

“Friday at 8. Is that okay with you?” He asked.

“It’s perfect, Shawn. Thank you for coming with me tonight. I had a wonderful time.” You whispered, smile evident in your voice as it was concealed in the darkness.

“Me too.” Shawn leaned down and kissed you lightly on your lips. “Friday at 8. I’ll pick you up.”

And with that he walked down the hall and into his room. You slowly brought your hand up and traced your cupid’s bow. It was like your lips were on fire.

You slowly opened the door to Aaliyah’s room and sat down in her desk chair. You couldn’t believe it. This had to be a dream.

Your phone pinged and you numbingly took it out of your pocket. You had to read the screen a few times before your brain processed what was in front of you.

jordan: how did it go tonight?

you: it was good

jordan: good?

you: fine it was great

you: listen i need to ask you something

jordan: shoot

you: how did you know about the kiss?

jordan: well

jordan: he told me

You put your phone on the charger and began rummaging through Aaliyah’s closet to find something to sleep in.

Shawn told him. That means Shawn never forgot.

You climbed into bed next to Aaliyah, who was fast asleep until you did so. “Hey, you’re back. How did it go?”

“It was good. How about you?” You pulled the blanket Aaliyah was hogging and brought it up to your chin.

“It was really nice. We went to the cutest restaurant and they started playing our song as soon we got in. Felt like it was a sign from the universe.” Aaliyah smiled, eyes closing as she slowly drifted back to sleep.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Listen, if you still wanna go to the Pompadour restaurant, tell me so I can call in advance. You know how busy those types of restaurants get around Christmas.”

“Actually, I’m gonna go with Shawn next Friday.” 

It was like you flipped a switch because Aaliyah’s eyes flew wide open. “What?!”

“Shh, go to sleep. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”

“You can’t just say that and expect me to fall asleep.” She groaned.

“Goodnight, Liyah.” You grinned.

You tossed and turned all night. Well not literally, otherwise Aaliyah would have murdered you. But you stayed up all night thinking about the kiss Shawn gave you before he went to his room. There was no way you could mistake it any longer. Shawn was definitely into you. You couldn’t believe it. 

You had managed to fall asleep for about an hour before the sun came up. The sunlight filtering in through the window woke you up, making you regret not closing the blinds the night before.

You grabbed your things and trudged downstairs. You grabbed a muffin from the breakfast table where Karen was already sitting. You gave her a hug and a wave goodbye and headed to your car.

As you sat down, you remembered you were almost fully out of gas. No way was the little bit left in the tank from last night going to be able to get you home.

You looked down at the gas gauge only to see your tank was completely full. You looked up and saw a sticky note on the rearview mirror.

figured something out for you -s

____________________

part 2

thankyou for reading my lovelies. i thought of this like a day ago or something idk but i also had bfb by victoria justice stuck in my head for a while so this is what came of it. pls dont forget to leave feedback! @shawncxlvins here it is love!

[mageicalwishes]

Read on AO3: Here

Rating: Teen And Up 

Summary: "But then, before I even knew what was happening, she was kissing me back. And Crowley, I swear I melted. She tasted of cigarette smoke and spiced rum - Like fire personified.”

Carry On Countdown, Day 6 - WLW (Women Love Women) @carryon-countdown​

Tags: Unrequited Love, Friends With Benefits, Implied Sexual Content (Never Actually Described Though), Pining, Watford Eight Year, Slight Angst, Everyone Is Over 18 Just To Be 1000% Clear, Carry On Countdown 2020 Day 6

Words: 1,580

Ebb

The first time it happened was New Year's Day. We’d stumbled back into our room from our impromptu party on the Lawn with Nicky (After her sister came out and yelled at us), when she suggested that we dance. It was stupid, really - Flinging ourselves about to The Doors, our booze-addled minds incapable of keeping a beat - but it was fun. So fun. She was giggling loudly, spinning me around the room with reckless disregard for our neighbours. And I just couldn’t stop smiling. Everything felt so … big - So light and bold. I didn’t think - I didn’t even know how it happened - I just … did it. 

I’d been thinking about it for months. I’d always known that I liked girls (Well, ever since I figured out what my weird obsession with Kate Bush really was), and then the Crucible went and gave me her. With her copper skin and her salt and pepper waves, that near permanently raised slitted eyebrow; it was impossible not to fall. I’d been infatuated with her since the start, but I’d never actually intended to act on it. I mean, for Merlin’s sake, Ebb, use your brain! But, in that moment, I was drunk enough that I didn’t care to be cautious. I just wanted. I didn’t think about the embarrassment, or the risk, or the rejection. I just thought of her. I let it all go and just did it. I kissed her. Finally.

She stiffened at first, clearly shocked, and my mind snapped back to normality at a sickening pace, desperately trying to recall a memory spell potent enough to erase everything.  But then, before I even knew what was happening, she was kissing me back. And Crowley, I swear I melted. She tasted of cigarette smoke and spiced rum - Like fire personified. And she was so confident with it, working her jaw against mine as she knot her hands in the roots of my hair (I don’t know, maybe she snogged girls all the time. It definitely seemed like she knew what she was doing, and she was always going on about how fit Chrissie Hynde is). Unprepared for reciprocation, I was at a loss. So, I just lay my head back against the wall and let her go - Let her give me everything that I’d been craving. 

And then, as she trailed hot kisses down my neck, she offered me everything - Wrapping her hands around my wrists and tugging them downwards, pressing my palms to the backs of her thighs.

“What do you want?” she’d said, voice low and heady. 

Christ. What did I want? I didn’t even know (Well … I mean, I kind of did, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her, even with all the Whiskey). But she was asking. Her skin was warm and soft and real in my hands, and she was offering it all to me. I could’ve just … taken it. But I didn’t want it to be like that - Blurry eyed and spur of the moment. So I shook my head.

“I do want to. I just … another time? I want - I think that we should wait” 

Taking a step back she’d smiled, soft and uncharacteristically apologetic. “Alright. Another time. Wanna just go to bed? I think I may have had a bit too much, I’ve got a fucking massive headache.”

Truthfully, I didn’t really want to sleep, despite the increasing heaviness of my eyelids. I wanted to go back to dancing - To pretending that everything was normal. I wanted to spend more time with this Fiona. But I agreed.

Yet, despite my woe, when I came back from the bathroom, she was laid out on my bed, boots and jeans still firmly in place. Unsure, I stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the curve of her back against my sheets until she started laughing at me, lifting up the duvet in invitation.

“Come on, Ebby,” she’d teased. “Don’t go all shy on me,”

So … I went for it, slipping into bed beside her and taking her in my arms; drifting into sleep with the taste of fire still heavy on my lips.

I assumed that it would be over after that - Her promise of ‘Another time’ doomed to go undelivered. Just a mad one-off - but, to my surprise, it continued. We weren’t … anything proper, not really (I mean, she didn’t look at me the same way that she looked at Nicky). But it was something. 

Every now and then she’d come into our room with that wicked glint in her eye, and I knew that I was lost. She’d have me boneless, kissing up my thighs and muttering all kinds of wild things into my ear, before I even had time to wrap my head around why. (My mother would’ve be so disappointed if she’d found out what we were up. She’d always said that the ‘Pitch girl’ was a bad influence). But I needed it. I liked it. 

Alas, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting more. From wanting something real. Something more than just … messing about.

She’d never really shown an interest in having a ‘real’ relationship before, always preferring quick, non-committal flings (Half of which were based off of nothing more than the desire to piss off her parents), but for a mad moment, I convinced myself that maybe she’d make an exception for me.

She was always softer with me when we were like that - Holding me tight against her at night, and reassuring me when I thought I was getting things wrong. But, it went beyond that. Even on days when we wouldn’t have our ‘fun’, she’d still sneak into my bed to cuddle, or press kisses to my clammy forehead when I got one of my cursed migraines. It was … strange. It was if, once we opened that door to intimacy, she couldn’t help herself from creeping through it, even in situations where ‘friends’ would almost certainly draw the line. And then … there was my birthday. 

She’d woken me up at the crack of dawn, jumping on my bed, still in her knickers and worn Queen pyjama shirt, shouting about ‘exciting plans’. And then, after breakfast, she’d driven me out into the countryside and led me into a barn filled with goats and sheep, where she’d set us up a little picnic with pizza, and hot chocolate, and strawberries (She’d even gone so far as to bake me a little ginger cake). “I know it smells like shit in here,” she’d said. “But I thought you’d appreciate the company.”

I’ll admit that, in spite of the gesture, I was a little apprehensive at first. But, after she explained that the farm belonged to her ‘Sister’s pet’ (Which I can only assume was the Fiona way of saying ‘husband’), I soon relaxed. And then, it was lovely. 

We danced, and talked, and laughed, and played with the animals (Fi tried to feed a lamb a piece of pepperoni but I managed to convince her not to). She told me all about her new nephew and I told her about the time me and Nicky accidentally turned our nanny blue. It was friendly. It was nice. And then … she kissed me - Unrushed and to no purpose - and it was perfect. 

So, when she finally had to go (Off to her pre-arranged birthday drinks date with Nicky), I couldn’t find it in myself to dampen the day with the appropriate amount of jealousy. Instead, I left floating far above Cloud Nine, that small, nagging part of my mind teasing me with a hopeful ‘What If?’, despite my better judgement. 

Consumed by the prospect of more, a few weeks before the end of term - Before the end of Watford - I bit the bullet and initiated that regrettable ‘What are we?’ conversation. She’d just laughed, like I was being utterly absurd, in her usual, unbothered way and set me straight with a simple “We’re friends, Ebb. Best friends. Don’t stress yourself out by overcomplicating things, it’s just a bit of fun. Relax. Let yourself enjoy it.”

I was in a foul mood for weeks after that. Even though I knew that that’s all it was - That my foolish, growing love could only ever be one-sided - hearing it hit me like a curse. Left me wounded - Bitter, and broken, and bruised. 

She didn’t know, of course - About the depth of my feelings (I guess I wasn’t as unsubtle as I thought, after all). While she may have a bit of a negative reputation, what with her famously short temper and record-breaking list of detentions, Fi wasn’t cruel. Not to me. Never to me. She didn’t say it to be harsh, or to cut me down, she said it because it was true. ‘Just friends’. Only ever ‘Just friends’

Thinking back, I should’ve stopped it right then and there (It would’ve saved me a lot of heartache). But … I couldn’t give her up. Even though the messy, undefined greyness of the ‘relationship’ that we found ourselves in was so far from what I really wanted, I took it all greedily - Our ‘benefits’ my subpar consolation prize. Her distant touch a hollow shadow of what I longed for. Sometimes it felt like it was tearing me to pieces. Sometimes it felt like it was the only thing holding me together. Sometimes it felt like nothing at all. Like I said … Fiona Pitch is fire personified. And I’d let her burn me a thousand times. 

[xiubaek-13]

Providence

Prompt: You kind of-sort of said you had a boyfriend and now you both are invited to a ‘couples only’ party and now you have to find a boyfriend ASAP

Pairing: Chen x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, poor dating history, a little bit of smut.

Word Count: 9,118

A/N: This was for a one-shot challenge. We had a really cool idea for a Valentines prompt but life decided to come in and drop multiple anvils on all of our progress. Life can be shit like that sometimes but at times like that you also have to step back and realise that the writing can wait. We made a group decision to kind of call off the challenge but still post if/when we finished. This is my contribution.

Anyway, let me know what you think - apparently I cannot write a short one-shot to save my life so here is an almost 10k present for you.

You only had yourself to blame for this. Why the fuck did you tell him you had a boyfriend? Did you enjoy suffering? How the hell were you supposed to find a boyfriend before the weekend?!

You were just so sick of feeling left out of social gatherings but Suho was all about couples parties… originally you thought it was a phase that would pass but six months later it was still invite only and you had to have a boyfriend or partner or significant other. The rules were that you couldn’t turn up alone or with a fuck buddy, not after that one time Baekhyun turned up with an escort just to piss Suho off. You still remember Baekhyun telling you that story and how Suho hadn’t invited him again for two whole months. That man was too concerned with how society perceived him and his perfect wife. He just didn’t understand how you could possibly have no time for dating and dismissed you every time you asked to come alone.

So you hadn’t seen him in six months. You still talked and still saw each other at work but you missed hanging out with your friend. You just wished he cared less about what everyone thought of him. One by one they’d all gotten girlfriends and wives and suddenly you were no longer the main woman in their lives. Gone were the days when you’d have to pretend to be their date, scorned ex, sister, or bitchy friend to save them from awful dates. Now none of them were ever free to do the same for you because it wouldn’t be proper.

At some point you gave up on dating. You just decided one day that you’d had enough of being disappointed by every so called suitor and weren’t going to participate in it any more. Your mother was distraught, but you were pretty sure it was more that she was upset that she couldn’t play matchmaker any more rather than any sort of concern for your wellbeing. What you would give to not have been born into high society with all of these convoluted rules and stigmas. You had to marry a career man of good stead from the right family. You had to mask and hide your feelings, always, because any sign of emotion was a sign of weakness. You had to have a good education and a good career but be willing to drop it all to get married and start a family then spend your days on committees. You could never not be seen in designer wear, what would the neighbours think? All of this superficial bullshit. You were done with it.  There had to be more to life than this and if there wasn’t then what the hell was the point of anything? Why put up with all of this just to be a beige blip or boring in the grand scheme of things.

You craved excitement like that art student you dated in college who had a talent for body paint. Your mother haaaaated him and once he found out about your status he was done with you. You craved a person who could chill with you and be happy in just your company for days on end when the rest of the world became too overwhelming like that library assistant you dated for a couple of months until you found creepy poems everywhere and had to call it quits before you ended up the subject of a cold case study in a decades time. For some reason you always ended up with the weird guy who seemed great… until he wasn’t.

Your luck wasn’t any better when your mother set up the dates. There was the lawyer who always had to argue with you and spoke over the top of you, there was the medical student with the foot fetish, there was the personal trainer who didn’t believe in showers, the stock broker with anger management issues and a possessive streak, the list went on. Back in the day Suho, Baekhyun and the others would laugh with you about these jerks and give you hope for the future but now, now you couldn’t help but feel like they thought you were a lost cause since you were the only one left who was single. Maybe you were just destined to be forever alone like Chanyeol had once suggested.

***

“Are you sure it isn’t you that’s the problem?” He asked.

You paused as you brought your coffee up to your lips. “Wow. Thanks Kai. You’re a beacon of positivity you know that?”

Kai pressed on. “Think about it. You’ve been on countless dates and all of them, every single guy you’ve ever dated hasn’t been good enough. You’ve found a flaw in every single one. People have flaws, it’s normal. It’s not normal to have gone on like 50 dates in the past 2 years and still have nothing to show for it.”

“You couldn’t be more of a finance guy if you tried. I know people have flaws but don’t you dare try to tell me I should have just looked past Jason’s poetry thing.”

“Oh fuck no. That guy was a textbook serial killer in the making, you’re lucky you got away from that relatively unscathed.”

“Kai, they’ve all be terrible. I don’t know what to tell you… maybe the guy for me just isn’t in this universe. Maybe he was here but he died before I could meet him and now I’m alone forever.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“You’re lucky I like you Kai. Now are you going to help me get into one of Suho’s parties or have I just wasted a half hour at this overpriced cafe?”

Kai laughed and put his drink down. “Just go through your phone and find the least terrible guy you ever went out with and see if he’s up for playing along for a night. Suho will know if you just bring a guy you’ve never met before - it’s kind of how he caught Baekhyun out.”

“And here I was thinking it was because she was propositioning Sehun in the kitchen or when she told Xiumin her price list that really gave her away.” You deadpanned.

“You know what, you might be right.” He laughed and shook his head. “We are lucky he’s finally settled down, single Baekhyun was wild.”

You checked your phone and realised you had to be back at work in 20 minutes so you thanked Kai for brunch and headed back to your office.

***

Your phone was mocking you, you were sure of it. It felt like a stone in your hand ever since brunch with Kai. His words kept coming back to you but every time you opened your contact list and started scrolling you felt like the world’s biggest loser. What would you even say to any of these guys if you called? Hi I’m pathetic and still alone but please date me for one night so I can go to a party? Yes I know things didn’t work out between us in the past but what’s one night for old times sake? Ugh. You needed wine if you were going to stoop this low.

One hour and five glasses of wine later you were three quarters through your contact list and you had gained nothing. If anything you’d lost some dignity in the process but you’d also deleted about 10 numbers from your phone for good, ones that were disconnected or if the conversation felt too forced or if he was rude. You cursed Kai, so far this was a horrible walk down memory lane of your failed love life. What you saw in any of these men was beyond you. One conversation stood out so far - Lance. Lance was clearly a low point of your dating life, really the name said it all. Stereotypical frat boy, on the rowing team, thinks women are to be seen and never heard, thinks the ability to do a keg stand makes him a certified legend. Lance was more than happy to chat with you tonight, to catch up on old times and tell you all about himself and how well he was doing at the law firm he was a partner in. Not once did he ask about you. His response when you’d asked, through gritted teeth because you were certain you’d end up killing him on the way to the party, was “Cool, cool, look sweetcheeks I’d like nothing more than spend a night with you but I don’t do the whole date thing plus I haven’t seen you in years - you gotta send a guy some pics first. You should just come over later tonight, we can have a party of our own if you know what I mean.” You actually felt greasy after talking to him and never before had you deleted a number from your phone so quickly, because fuck ever talking to him again.

Sighing and pouring your sixth glass you settled into your couch and scrolled to the last three numbers. If none of these provided results you were back to square one. You glanced at the remaining names, remembering who they were and if they were worth calling. Taekyeon was a med student in college and you’d lived in the same dorm. He was actually a really good guy back then. You recalled that one time where you were so horrifically hungover after one bad night out and he’d somehow procured a drip and solution to hook up to you to rehydrate you as well as feed you painkillers and took care of you. He’d never asked for anything in return either. You dialled his number and waited as it rang.

“Hello?” A male voice answered.

“Hi, is this Taekyeon?” You asked.

“It is...who am I speaking with?” He responded hesitantly.

After you got past formalities and got to chatting you didn’t even bother bringing the proposition up. Instead you made up some lie about a project you were working on and needing to reconnect with your past. You were right, he was still a great guy. So great that he was a pediatrician, married and had two adorable children. It got you nowhere with needing a fake boyfriend for a night but it was wonderful to chat to him again after all this time and he seemed just as happy to chat with you. He promised to call again after he returned from a work conference so that he could invite you over for dinner to meet his wife and children.

“After all, I owe you for not letting me turn into one of those awful frat boys. You kept me in line so my morals never wavered.” You couldn’t really turn the guy down. Not when you could tell he was serious about having you meet his family and really, you were a little bit curious to see how he turned out.

“It was the least I could do, you were younger and more impressionable. I just didn’t want you to turn into a jerk, especially if I had to live next to you for four years. Don’t think of it as a selfless act!”

He laughed and the two of you continued chatting for a bit before saying your goodbyes and promising to speak again soon. With a smile you moved down to the next name, Wonsik. Wonsik...Wonsik… who the hell was he? You racked your brain to try and pull up some detail that would enlighten you as to who this guy was. Was he that forgettable? Or is he just some random dude? You sat for what felt like hours trying to work out who he might be but in the end you took a big sip of wine, threw caution to the wind and dialled. As you waited for the mystery man to answer his phone you continued to mull over the name in your mind.

“Heeeey! It’s been so long since we last spoke. How have you been?!” a bright and cheerful voice greeted you from the other end of the phone line. Who the hell IS this guy? Why does he seem to know me...that would mean my name is saved in his phone. So we must have met in the last year.

“Hi! I know it’d been ages. I’ve just been so busy. What have you been up to?” You decided to play along like you remembered who he was to see if he’d give away any clues that might jog your memory.

“Oh you know, same as usual - museum stuff. Preparing the newest exhibition which has been taking up all of my time. Honestly the hoops you have to jump through to have artifacts leant to a museum is just mind boggling. Anyway please, tell me what you’ve been up to. I had honestly given up on hearing from you again.”

No. no no no no no. You remembered him now. Eight months ago you had a weak moment and joined Tinder. This guy had matched well with you so you’d chatted and organised a date. He seemed nice enough, he still did now, but you remembered getting the strangest vibe from him during that date. Something about him made you feel unsafe and you just wanted to be as far away from him as possible the whole time you were on your date. Being a smart woman you’d told a few friends about the date and teed them up to contact you an hour in to check on you, providing a believable reason to end the date early if you needed to. You did this with any date you went on but this was the only time you’d used it.

“Oh just the same, work and more work. I’m sorry if I bothered you, I’ve just been going through my phone checking all of the numbers in here - it’s been playing up lately. So this call was just to confirm that it’s still you. I wish I could chat longer but I really do have to go.”

“Yep, still me! Ah well hopefully we can meet up again one day and finish that date. It was such a nice surprise to see your name come up.”

You made loose promises to talk again sometime and hung up. Instead of deleting you made a note in his contact information - Tinder date - so that you would remember not to ever call or answer his calls, deleting his number could mean that you’d answer him and be stuck talking to him again and you really didn’t want to be caught off guard like that.

The final name stared at you. You knew this name and you had a sinking feeling about it. You used to work for Yesung as an intern. He was only a few years older than you and he was handsome. The two of you had dabbled in an office fling. It had been hot and heavy but it was short lived since both of you desired your careers more than each other. You both knew it was only lust and proximity that kept causing you to end up in compromising positions so you’d put a stop to it after one too many close calls. He was a nice enough guy but he was a workaholic so you weren’t sure if he’d be down to play pretend with you for an evening.

You put the phone down and made your way back to the kitchen to pour another glass of wine only to find the bottle empty. Had you had six glasses already? It was probably a sign to stop drinking for the night before you regretted it the next day. The storm outside intensified as rain pelted against the windows. If I’m making this call I need to do it before the thunderstorm starts. You grabbed a bottle of water from your fridge and headed back to the couch. You unlocked your phone and your thumb hovered over the dial button. Fuck it. You thought as you pressed his number. It rang and rang and rang until you were sure it would go to voicemail but at the last second a voice answered.

“Hello?” a warm voice greeted you from the other end of the line. It wasn’t how you remembered Yesung’s voice but it had been a few years so you weren’t sure.

“Hi, is this Yesung?” You asked tentatively.

“Oh, sorry. No this used to be his phone, it hasn’t been for years though. Was it personal or business?” The voice answered. Dammit. I called everyone and came up empty handed.

“A bit of both really.” You lied. You were feeling a little pathetic now but your manners meant that you would continue this conversation until it was polite to end it.

“Maybe I can help with the business part. I work with him now.” You thought this voice sounded younger than Yesung. Maybe he was his new intern? You didn’t really care. His voice was nice though and after a bottle of wine the warmth in his voice made you feel a little less pathetic.

“Oh uh, I don’t think you can. It was more a proposition. I used to work for Yesung.” You replied. If he’s not an ass he’ll ask more questions.

“Hmmm why not just tell me it’s a personal call then?” He chuckled.

He had a point. Why lie? “I don’t know, it’s late and I might have had some wine but I also don’t know who you are. Why should I give you a proper answer?”

He laughed. “Yeah, coz that makes total sense.”

“Oh shut up.” You snapped.

“Do I know you?” He asked. Surely he didn’t? Did he?

“Why? Don’t many people tell you to shut up?” You quipped.

“Ha. No, your voice sounds familiar. I can’t place it though. You said you used to work to Yesung though right?” He wasn’t letting this drop, he must actually think he knew you.

“Mmmhmm” You were unsure how much you wanted to divulge to a complete stranger. For all you knew he was just playing with you.

“When did you work for him?”

“A few years ago.” It was a vague enough answer that he shouldn’t be able to get much out of it.

“As…?” He pressed.

“I was an intern.”

“Oooh! I DO know you!” He sounded excited on the other end of the call.

“Well, can you enlighten me? Because I’m drawing a blank here.” You exclaimed, confused at how the hell he’d seemingly worked out who you were, or that he knew you.

“Ah wae! I’m not sure if I should be offended that you don’t remember me just by my voice.” He feigned offence at your lack of memory. The whiny complaining he did triggered something in your memory but.. It couldn’t be… could it?

“Wait...Chen?” A handful of you used to go to karaoke rooms after work on Fridays and Chen was the guy with the voice of an angel. You had no idea why he wasn’t a professional singer but you could have sat and listened to him sing for hours. Surely this wasn’t him? Chen was always argumentative and loud at work, not this soft spoken voice you were currently talking to.

“Ah, you do remember me. I’m flattered.How have you been?” Now that you knew it was him you couldn’t work out how it hadn’t clicked earlier. That voice, that warm and inviting and vexing voice.

“Good I guess.” You answered softly. You weren’t really expecting that question from him. You had been mentally preparing yourself to deflect the ‘why did you call’ question that would inevitably be brought up again.

“So good that you’re calling your old boss’ phone on a weeknight at 11pm? What’s going on?” Damn. Apparently you weren’t going to evade this question any longer.

“Uh. Don’t worry about it.” You mumbled. There was no way you were telling Chen why you rang. He was a smartass and a tease if you remembered correctly and as nice as his voice was, you wouldn’t enjoy it if he was making fun of you.

“If you don’t tell me I’m just going to assume it was a booty call & I’ll be sure to tell him all about it tomorrow.” He teased.

“You wouldn’t!” You exclaimed. It had been too many years for you to know for sure if he was bluffing or not.

“Wouldn’t I? I can even give him your number and I’m sure you remember how he is when his ego is inflated by pretty women.” He teased.

“Oh I remember now. I hate you.”

Chen couldn’t speak because he was laughing so hard at you. Eventually he pulled himself together enough to speak “Then tell me why you rang and avoid this fate.”

“You’ll only make fun of me so either way it’s a bad result for me.” You whined.

“Either I can make fun of you or Yesung can call you expecting you to offer up sex… your choice. I know what I’d pick but hey… maybe you were just after a booty call. Maybe I’m doing you a favour by handing Yesung your number… You can thank me later. Send a gift basket or something.”

You nearly choked on the water you were drinking when he’d spoken. “Oh my god. I needed a date ok? It wasn’t a booty call. Jesus Chen.”

“You needed a date & Yesung was who you called? There has to be more to this. Come on, make my night interesting and tell me.” He egged you on. Something in his voice, something in the way he spoke made you want to tell him more but you weren’t giving it up for nothing. If you were about to tell Chen how desperate you were then he was going to have to offer something in return.

“What do I get in return for telling you? I’m not drunk enough to just drop it on you and the shred of dignity I have left isn’t going easily.”

“I… promise I won’t laugh at you or judge you.” He replied.

“You’ve already done both of those things!” You exclaimed. No way were you letting him lowball you like that.

“Fine. I’ll sing for you. Is that a better offer?”

“Actually yes, it is.” You reluctantly launched into your tale of why you were calling Yesung and why you needed a date. You tried to brush over the part where you were, for lack of a better phrase, forever alone and kept it as simple as possible. True to his word he didn’t laugh but he did remain silent for a painfully long stretch of time before he spoke again.

“I cannot believe I promised you I wouldn’t laugh. You’re not kidding are you?” He said, his voice trembling as he tried to keep his promise.

“Nope. This is my life.”

“Fuck me. Firstly, let me say that your friend sounds like a dick. What kind of jerk only holds couples parties? I might not know you that well but I know you shouldn’t be spending your night calling every guy in your phone just to see if you can convince them to pretend to be your boyfriend for a night. No offence but it kind of makes you look crazy. Secondly, is your contacts list that sad that you got all the way down to Yesung’s name and still hadn’t found anyone who would do this for you?”

“It’s the last name on the list. Correct me if I’m wrong but didn’t you promise not to judge me Chen?” You chided.

“Not judging you, just your choices. Anyway, that brings me to my third point. I’ll do it. I know you weren’t expecting to talk to me tonight or anything but this whole thing is too amusing to not want to be a part of it. So if you are still in need, which I’m pretty sure you are, I’ll fill the role.” You were sure you’d heard wrong, there was no way Chen had just solved your problem. Surely not. You must have lost your mind or only heard what you wanted to hear because you could have sworn he said he’d do it.

“What? Seriously? You’ll do it? Chen, you have no idea how much you’d be helping me out!” You practically beamed down the line. He had to hear the sudden uplift in your tone and pitch. You’d honestly thought when Yesung didn’t answer, well actually even before that, that you would be back to square one and still alone. Suddenly there was a light at the end of the tunnel. You had plans for this party, plans to tell Suho exactly what you thought of his couples only crap at some point of the night but you’d play along until the perfect moment then throw it in his face. Was it petty? A little. Was it deserved? You thought so. How could he still call himself your friend if he organised events and wouldn’t let you attend on your own?

“I never said I’d do it for free, but we can discuss my price later. I think we should meet up for coffee tomorrow to reconnect and get some facts straight. If we’re going to fake date we need fake dating history.”

***

You stop outside of the cafe entrance and internally debate for what has to be the eighth time since hanging up the phone last night whether or not this is a horrible idea. What if you went inside and he never turned up? How would you handle rejection from a fake boyfriend? What if he was in there but he mocked you or judged you for your forever alone status? What if he thought you were pathetic? For the eighth time you reminded yourself that he suggested this meeting after he agreed to be your fake boyfriend. He’d been so amused at your inability to find someone but also so pissed that your choice of friends sucked that badly that you needed a fake boyfriend in order to hang out with them. He’d texted you a time and a place after you hung up last night so you steeled your nerves and pushed the door open.

Once you were inside you looked around, searching for him. A hand waved from the back left corner and beckoned you over. You started walking towards him and relaxed when you saw his smiling face. “Good, I was starting to think you’d chickened out on the whole thing.” He exclaimed when you slid into the seat across from him.

“Why a booth in the back corner Chen?” You asked. The cafe wasn’t that busy that he had to choose the seats furthest away from any of the other customers.

He shrugged. “I wasn’t sure how comfortable we’d be discussing the semantics of our fake relationship so I opted for some privacy.” He pointed to his hot chocolate. “Please, order something to drink or a snack, it’s on me.”

You wait for the waitress to appear then order an iced chocolate. You and Chen make small talk until the waitress returns with your drink, then he gets straight into it. “I think we should incorporate our real history into this fake backstory, it makes it easier to lie when half of the lie is truth.”

“It won’t make it weird?” You ask.

“Not at all.” He responds, taking a sip from his hot chocolate. “Hear me out. We met a few years ago through work. You were an intern and I was an office lackey. We had the same boss and on Friday nights after work a group of us would all go out for drinks and karaoke. The two of us hung out and got to know each other. We became friendly but we were both off limits, I had a girlfriend and you were kind of seeing someone. We remained friends until you finished your internship and left, losing contact with each other until about a month ago.” He paused while you processed the story so far. So far it wasn’t fake, it was just exactly your history with Chen. You weren’t really sure where he was headed with it but you were curious.

“What happened last month?” You asked.

A slight smile formed on his face, knowing he’d reeled you in so far. “A month ago you had one of the worst blind dates of your life. I’m talking the guy was drunk and lewd to the point where you told him you were going to use the restroom but instead left the restaurant and went to the bar down the road. You were sitting at the bar quietly having a few drinks to try and wash the evening away when we ran into each other. We got to talking and caught up on each others lives - me getting promoted to junior partner, having my fiance cheat on me and you having a string of bad luck with love but success with your career. We kept drinking and chatting and once we realised that we were both single, flirting. One thing led to another and you let me get you home. I left your doorstep with the promise of a date and a month later we’re still dating.” He sat back and waited for you to chip in with your two cents on his story. It was good, almost too good actually. For one thing, you could definitely retell that blind date because you’d been on one like that. The rest was plausible and enough that not too many questions would be asked.

“It’s good.” You eat a spoonful of cream from the top of your iced chocolate. “I think that’ll work well actually. The truth thing does make it a lot easier, honestly I hadn’t thought of it from this perspective. Plus I’ve been on that horrible date so that won’t be a stretch of the imagination should anyone want details.”

Chen’s eyes widened. “Seriously? You’ve been on a date that bad?”

You laughed defeatedly. “You have no idea.”

“Wow. I thought I’d concocted a date so bad that no one would want to know more but I didn’t think anyone actually had dates that bad. What kind of- nevermind. We’re getting off topic. Are you happy with the backstory?”

You nod and continue to spoon the cream off your drink. “I like it. Honestly I had no idea what we were going to tell them if they asked but of all the options I thought up last night, none of them are as simple and realistic as yours. Way to choose the most believable one” You smile and laugh to yourself.

The two of you keep chatting and catching up on each others lives. A lot had happened to both of you since you’d lost contact. You’d forgotten how easygoing and warm Chen was. Hanging out with him brightened your day and you hadn’t realised how much you’d missed this feeling. He can’t contain his laughter as you enlighten him with your failed dating history. At one point he is in tears from laughing so hard after hearing about a particularly bad date with the non showering personal trainer and he begged you to stop talking. You swapped the conversation to find out more about him, pressing to see if the whole fiance and being cheated on thing was true and you were appalled to find out that it was.

It was the aforementioned girlfriend from when you worked together. He’d fallen head over heels for her and after a year and a half of dating they were engaged. Chen had never been happier, he was progressing in his career and he had the love of his life by his side. Sadly it turned out that the love of his life was a manipulative bitch who had been using him. He’d noticed something was off when she accused him of stealing her phone. He went to talk to a friend about her behaviour but as he spoke he realised more and more things she’d done to him. He was so in love with her that he hadn’t noticed her toxic behaviour but now there was no going back. He’d arrived home early from an out of town business trip and went home to surprise her only to arrive home to something that shattered his heart. It’s one thing to know that someone is manipulative, it’s another to see just how little you mean to them in person.

She was in his apartment fucking not one, but two guys in their bed. Once the men saw him they hightailed it out of there, not wanting to be a part of whatever conversation happened next. She didn’t even try to apologise. No, she tried to turn it back around and make it his fault that she cheated. He was so heartbroken and disgusted that he simply told her she had 3 hours to pack all of her shit, return her keys and get out of his life for good then turned around and left the building.

You were so mad for him at the end of his story that you didn’t notice the tear escape your eye until he reached forward and caught it on your cheek. You flinched at his touch which didn’t escape his notice. “Hey, don’t get worked up over it. I’m past it and I’m much stronger and self reliant now. I’m also a much better judge of character than I once was so out of all of that pain some good occurred too.” He smiled gently at you. “What worries me now is that you flinched when I touched you, and you’ve done the opposite of what a girlfriend should do every time I’ve touched you or looked into your eyes since we started chatting. You’re too tense.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise we were acting from now Chen. Here I was thinking we were just catching up as friends.”

He chuckled. “We are but I figured I’d test how you responded to me touching you. You do know that for this whole thing to be believable you have to act natural when I invade your personal space. We’re supposed to have been dating for a month now and if you flinch at any point and someone notices then we’re done for.”

He got up and moved to the other side of the booth, sliding in next to you. What the hell was he doing? Why was he so close all of a sudden? Was he always this handsome? You shook your head and looked at him with a confused expression on your face. “Chen what are you doing?”

He cocked his head as though you should already know the answer to your question but when you made no attempt at speaking again he sighed and filled you in. “We are going to sit here and chat until you act natural with me being so close to you, with me looking into your eyes, with me touching you. If we can’t master this then there’s no point in going through with it.”

You furrow your brow and ask. “So...we’re acting like we’re a couple now?”

He nods, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Yep. A smitten couple. One month in you’re still clinging to each other, still completely absorbed in one another, inseparable. So if you want to pull this lie off, you need to get comfortable with me.”

So you sit there, incredibly close to Chen and continue chatting. Now that there wasn’t a table separating the two of you he’s even more disarming. You knew he was handsome having sat in a karaoke bar and stared at him on more than one occasion but that was when he floored you with his voice, after that you really looked at him and noticed the handsome man that lay beneath his bright and joking demeanour. You’d never been this close to him before though. He’d swiveled you so that you were facing him and pulled you closer to him. His hand rested on your thigh while the other alternated between playing with your fingers, holding your hand and brushing your hair off your face. His touch was somehow gentle and firm at the same time and his hands were warm, you could still feel where he touched you after his hand had moved away.

Maintaining eye contact was the difficult part. His deep brown eyes told you more than his words did and you were afraid you’d see pity in them if you stared for too long. The last thing you wanted was his pity, you knew you were pathetic and he’d been doing a wonderful job at making you forget how pathetic you were but you couldn’t help that niggling voice from returning to tell you that he was only doing this whole fake boyfriend thing because it amused him.

Every time you broke eye contact he’d squeeze your thigh or lift your head back up to look at him before starting again. He leant forward and whispered in your ear at one point. “The sooner you stop averting your gaze, the sooner you can go home and get ready for this party. If you can’t do it then I guess our deal is off which would be a shame since we’ve put in at least two hours of work at this point.” When he leant back you saw the smirk on his face and you steeled your resolve. You could do this. You could hold eye contact and withstand his touches and act like a smitten couple and you would do it to prove to him that you could.

The next time you break eye contact it’s not because of fear of judgement or pity. It’s because you felt something. Something about his gaze and his touches had made you feel too hot. You’d felt exposed and you wanted to run away or throw yourself at him and you were embarrassed. “Ah wae! You were doing so well!” He exclaimed and you tried to brush it off as nothing. He made you repeat the task again until you were able to hold eye contact the entire time. You were certain that you’d gone a shade of pink or red by the time you passed Chen’s tests but if you were he said nothing.

His eyes and touches made you feel warm and on edge and you were trying your hardest to keep yourself together but you kept noticing his gaze, his inviting lips, his arms, his legs, his touch and you were going a little insane. Did he sense it too? Or was he just playing his role? You had no idea but you needed to leave this cafe soon before you made a fool of yourself. “Chen, thank you for helping me. I still don’t know why you’re helping me but I’m choosing just to go with it at this point. I need to get back to work so I can leave on time to get ready for this party.” He checks his watch and lets you know he should be getting back too. He pays for your drink and snack then heads back to work & tells you he’ll pick you up at 7 at your place so the two of you can go over the plan once more. He smiles and gives you a quick hug before leaving.

***

Quit acting like a moron and get ready. It’s fake so of course he was acting sweet and endearing, it’s his role, nothing more. Ever since you’d left the cafe you’d been feeling strange. It had felt like you’d seen him, really seen him, for the first time and it was having an effect on you. You kept thinking about him, about his warm eyes, his mischievous lips, his charming words and his proximity to you. Every small touch he made seared into your skin, every gesture, every glance, it all felt too intimate and it was driving you crazy. You hadn’t counted on your emotions not realising that he was only acting that way because of the arrangement the two of you had. He’d been right, if you hadn’t spent the extra time getting comfortable being so close and touchy with each other then tonight would be a bust. Apparently your brain had decided to ignore the arrangement and instead focused on how his touches made you feel and how he smelled, the way his arms flexed when he moved, they way he looked at you. It clouded your vision and you felt too hot and overwhelmed. You’d been glad to leave the cafe before you did anything stupid and the fresh air was a welcome change to the encompassing tension of everything Chen you were now experiencing.

You stared in the mirror as you evaluated your outfit. The dress you chose was cute, a retro 50’s style pin up dress so it showed just enough cleavage, nipped in at your waist then poofed out into a full skirt. The couples party had a retro theme and the dress coupled with flawless make up and rockabilly hairstyle made you fit the part perfectly. You had no idea what Chen was going to wear but he told you he had it covered and you were willing to believe him. You kept trying to remind yourself not to read into anything tonight and not to let your emotions take over because you were going to pretend to be smitten with this guy and you had the slightest fear that you would feel sad and alone after he dropped you home tonight. You needed to go through with it though. If this was the only way you got to give Suho and your friends a piece of your mind about how unfair and terrible they were as friends then so be it.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. You make your way to your front door and open it. You had spent a decent amount of time trying to guess what Chen would wear tonight and for some reason you’d kept landing on suit as the option but you were wrong. Standing in front of you was temptation. He was dressed in blue jeans, a white v-neck tee and a black leather jacket. He’d gelled his hair back and looked like he’d stepped out of Grease or Crybaby. You sent a silent curse to the universe because he looked so good that it wasn’t fair. The suffocating tension that you felt earlier returned tenfold and you could do little more than stare at him.

His mouth quirked up into a smirk as he watched you stare at him unabashedly. He leant against your doorframe and watched as you tried to compose yourself. It gave him plenty of time to stare at you. “Hi doll.”

The only words you could get out were “How dare you.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you encouraging you to elaborate. “How dare I what?”

“How dare you turn up looking like this. You know it’s rude to look better than your date don’t you?”

He chuckles and very obviously gives you a once over. “Clearly you haven’t looked in the mirror because you, you look amazing.” You looked beautiful, more than beautiful, incredible. And sexy. Something he was not prepared for. He was prepared for cute and for pretty but not for the bombshell standing before him.

As his eyes raked over you you felt yourself heating up. “So, uh… are you gonna let me in or are we conducting this discussion purely in the doorway? I don’t mind either way but I’d like to know so I can get comfortable if you aren’t letting me in.” His words brought you back to reality and you finally remembered your manners. You stepped aside and let him enter the room.

As you closed the door his hand grabbed you, spinning you around and pulling you into an embrace. You were glad he couldn’t see the blush forming on your face. “So, how did we meet?”

He was testing you again. You tried to remind your brain of this fact but it was no use, it was giving in to the feeling of having Chen pressed against you and part of you couldn’t blame it...it was a damn nice feeling. But it wasn’t real. “We met a few years ago through work when I was an intern.” you responded, running your hands along his firm arms.

He rubs circles into your hips with his thumbs. “How long have we been dating?”

You rested your head in the crook of his neck as you replied, your body betraying you as you tried to get closer to him. “Just over a month now.”

He lowered his head and whispered in your ear. “Why are we only dating now?”

The feel of his hands roaming over you was making you light headed as you tried to concentrate on answering him. “W-we were both seeing other people at the time so we were only ever friends. We ran into each other a month ago and hit it off. The rest is history.”

“Now this if more like it, you aren’t awkward at our proximity. I can officially say that you stand a chance of fooling these ‘friends’ of yours tonight.” He detached himself from you and stepped back, smiling down at you.

See, it’s an act. He’s just putting on an act. He isn’t feeling what you’re feeling. Why would he? Your subconscious, ever the downer, decides to rear its head and berate you with negative thoughts. It usually waited until after the date before it ruthlessly came for you but it was determined to make an early start tonight.

You forced a smile and hoped that Chen didn’t notice it. “Then your method of teaching was a success.”

He stepped forward, cupping your face in his hands, his eyes laced with concern. “Are you ok?”

Apparently he did notice the shift in your demeanour. You tried to nod which must have looked ridiculous since his hands hadn’t left your face. “I’m good, just nervous. I promise.”

He didn’t move away. He stayed there, hands holding your face as his eyes darted to assess if you were being truthful or not. His gaze didn’t meet your eyes as he spoke quietly, voice lower than it had been moments ago. “You know, there is one thing we haven’t covered off on.”

“What’s that?” You whispered.

“Where we had our first kiss.” His eyes lifted to look you in the eyes now as he tried to gauge your reaction.

You didn’t miss the way he licked his lips or the way his eyes kept dropping to stare at your mouth. Your brain was a mess and couldn’t work out if this was another test or if he was flirting with you now. All you knew in that moment was that you really wanted him to kiss you. “I, well, wouldn’t it be a month ago when you walked me home. We would have kissed on my door stop before you, ever the gentleman, took your leave.” You let your eyes fall to his lips, they looked soft and inviting and you really wanted to know what they’d feel like, what he’d taste like. Would his kiss be soft or would it be demanding?

“Oh, did you think I was a gentleman?” He moved his hand to push a strand of your hair back behind your ear and your breath hitched. He stilled and searched your eyes for any sign that he should stop and he found none. “Fuck it.” he breathed before closing the distance between the two of you and pressed his lips against yours.

For a moment you couldn’t do anything except stand there but then your body seemed to remember how to react and you reciprocated, kissing him back with fervour. He help you against him as your mouths moved and your kiss deepend. His lips were incredibly soft and skilled, which you silently thanked the universe for, and you could barely get enough of them.

The two of you parted only to catch your breaths as he pressed his forehead against yours. “Sorry if I overstepped a boundary or something but I’ve been wanting to do that for hours.”

“Don’t you dare apologise Chen.” His eyes widened as you pulled his face back down to yours and kissed his again, your tongue flicking against his as he walked you backwards until you were pressed against the wall. You could barely remember how to breathe as he peppered kisses along your jaw and neck before returning to your mouth and drawing your bottom lip between his teeth, causing you to moan.

Things only escalated from there, clothes were hastily stripped from your bodies as you made your way down the hall to your bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded garments in your wake, only breaking contact to lift his shirt over his head. Your kisses became more urgent and passionate as he pushed you down onto the bed.

The only word you have to describe the sex is ravaging. As you lie next to him, both of you panting trying to catch your breaths and have your heart rates return to normal you replay the events that just occurred. He’d pushed you down onto the bed and positioned himself at the end of the bed with his head between your legs. You’d tried to close your legs out of embarrassment but he held them open, telling you that you looked beautiful like this, all spread out just for him. He nipped, sucked and licked until you were a writhing mess begging for him to let you cum. He led you to the edge of your release repeatedly but backed off right before it hit you. “Do you want to cum doll? Maybe you should show me just how much you want me to let you cum.”

He stood at the end of the bed as you knelt on it and took his length into your mouth, working him over with vigour and need. He’d hissed and moaned when you took all of him in your mouth and moaned, telling you just how well you sucked cock. He didn’t let you finish him off. He pushed you back onto your back and pinned your hands above your head before entering you in one thrust. You’d cried out at the stretch and he’d stilled as you adjusted to him. When he started moving again you saw stars. He would alternate between rolling his hips and relentlessly pounding into you and soon enough you were screaming his name and begging for him to let you cum. This time he complied, chasing his own release shortly after yours crashed over you.

You giggled and he turned his head to look at you. “We’re going to be late now.” He laughed and pulled you against him to snuggle.

***

The party was more or less a success. You had turned up with Chen on your arm and hung out with your friends. It was almost too easy to forget why you were pissed with them when you were enjoying catching up on their lives and they were so engaged with yours but you didn’t forget.

When Suho came up to tell you how glad he was that Chen had come into your life so that you weren’t sad and alone any more you snapped. You told him in no uncertain terms that if it took having a boyfriend for him to want to catch up with you then he could shove his friendship up his ass because you deserved better. You didn’t hold back - you told him how upset you had been when all you wanted to do was hang out with your friends but you were rejected time and time again because you were alone. You told him how worthless he made you feel and how he should be ashamed of how he’d acted.

The party fell silent as everyone stood in shock at your outburst. After a few moments you heard a slow whistle followed by Baekhyun’s voice. “Dude, you fucked uuuup.” You turned on him next.

“No Baekhyun. All of you fucked up.” He shut up after that.

When you were done telling all of them just how terribly they’d treated you Chen took your arm and gently pulled you to him. “I think we’ll be taking our leave now.”

He took you home. The ride home was silent as he let you process your thoughts and emotions. He rested his hand on the console, palm facing up as an invitation to take his hand should you need it. You didn’t need it but you wanted the comfort of his touch so you took it and he gently squeezed your hand.

“For the record, you did the right thing and for what it’s worth I’m proud of you.” He paused. “I could see the internal struggle you were having all night and I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to go through with your plan.” His tone was so gentle and it made you feel warm and safe.

“Until I did it I honestly didn’t know if I would.” You whispered. He squeezed your hand again and continued driving in silence. When you arrived at your home he walked you up to your doorstep and embraced you. You relaxed into the hug and smiled.

“So, now comes the business end of my deal.” You stiffened at his words. You’d completely forgotten that he had told you there would be a price for having him pretend to be your boyfriend. Apprehension seeped through your veins as you waited for him to enlighten you.

His silence got the better of you. “What’s the price?”

“A real date. In three days time.” He watched your face break out into a genuine smile, one he could get used to seeing, before you pulled him down into a kiss.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it!

[balancingdiet]

Tabula Rasa

Detective Conan & Magic Kaito Characters: Shinichi/Kaito Words: 2000 ish Chapter: (1) ... (15) (16) (17)

Shinichi always finds his neighbour weird. But he didn’t expect to find his neighbour lying on a patch of grass and donned in Kaitou Kid’s costume, too.

The distance between Beika Street and Kuroba’s old hometown was considerably near, but it wasn’t the case between the latter and their current residence. And the distance only amplified when Shinichi didn’t have his car and had to walk to take the public transport.

But despite how Shinichi had to change a couple of metro lines before he finally reached the station to get off, he didn’t find the journey very long. Perhaps it was because he was lucky enough to get a seat in every cabin he entered, or that he didn’t bother to check the time on his watch or phone…

Or maybe because his mind had been so preoccupied about the scene at the clock tower the entire way home.

Shinichi originally wanted to bring the blue rose for reasons he wasn’t sure. As an evidence? For safe-keeping? But in the end, he didn’t. He only stood in the same spot when he first saw the bench and stared at the rose for a long, long while before deciding to head home. The rose’s presence was already enough to prove his intuitive sense correct, and he found no rights for him to touch the rose, much less remove it from the place it was meant to be.

“It’s a gift for someone.”

Hands in his empty pockets, Shinichi walked out of the station and down the familiar streets. This was also the first time he noticed the large space and distance between each of the street's lamppost, making the residential area darker than the others. Nonetheless, it was again another observation he made when he wasn’t driving in his car, but for the first time, he wasn’t sure what to make do with this random information he had—

Ah... At least now he knew if any of Kuroba’s doves ever went missing, the best time to find it would be during the night; from a distance away, Shinichi could already spot a white dove sitting on his mail box.

“Hey you,” Shinichi called out as he approached.

The dove stared at him.

Shinichi looked over at Kuroba’s house. There were no lights on. “Where’s your owner?” he asked.

It cooed.

Shinichi sighed, not at anything but himself for his idiocy of trying to get an answer from a dove, again.

Deciding an alternative method of communicating, Shinichi unfastened the latch and tentatively took out his mail, and at the last moment, he waved it in front of the dove. But besides looking at Shinichi with its beady eyes, it showed no reaction.

“Since you didn’t steal my mail, I supposed he’s fine? ” Shinichi glanced at Kuroba’s house again. “Or maybe he hasn’t even reached home yet.”

The dove cooed.

“Thanks for the reply,” Shinichi mumbled as he began flipping through the mails. There were bills, bills, another postcard from his mother…

“Hey,” Shinichi said as he stuffed the rest of his uninteresting mails back into the mailbox and leaned a little closer to the dove. “Do you happen to know who this person named Aoko is?”

“…”

“It isn’t hard to know this person is important to Kuroba, but I also have a feeling that she’s…” Shinichi bit his lip, feeling the end of his throat tightened at the thought of the word. He lowered his gaze and stared at his hand—the hand he remembered Kuroba clung so tightly onto during that night he fell.

“I’m so… so sorry.”

Shinichi tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but that pain and tightness didn’t go away; it moved to his chest instead.

The dove cooed.

Shinichi glanced up. “Yes I’m alright—“ He blinked, staring questionably at the dove for a few seconds. “Uh, were you asking me if I’m alright?”

It cooed again.

“I think I’m going crazy.” Shinichi rubbed a thumb between his brows. “Anyway, who exactly are you? Hiro? Curry? Or Tama—”

“It’s Tamago.”

With how fast he turned his head, Shinichi thought he might snap his neck.

“You—” Shinichi backed a few steps away from Kuroba and scowled. “Why did you creep up behind me like that?”

“I didn’t,” Kuroba said as he took a bite out of the chocolate bar in his hand. “Don’t pin the blame on me when you’re a scaredy-cat.”

“I’m not a—” Shinichi shook his head; he had much more important questions on hand than replying Kuroba’s insults. “Since when were you behind me? And how much have you heard?”

“Now I’m curious.” Kuroba tilted his head. “Should I have heard something?”

“No.”

“Huh.” Kuroba glanced between Shinichi and Tamago. “Did you two badmouth about me?”

“If that would satisfy you, then yes, we badmouthed you.”

Kuroba gasped and theatrically placed a hand over his chest. “I thought I’m your best neighbour,” he said, before looking at Tamago. “And I just fed you your favourite sunflower seeds less than half-an-hour ago. Is this how you repay me?”

Half-an-hour ago? Shinichi glanced at the snack in Kuroba’s hand. “Where did you go?”

“I went to get myself some treats.” Kuroba raised his half-eaten chocolate bar before revealing his pocket full of other sweets. “You want one?”

“No.”

Shinichi figured if he continued to pry about how much Kuroba had heard, he would only be digging his own grave throughout the conversation. But it was hard to figure out the answer from Kuroba’s reaction, or rather, from the lack of it. Not to mention when Kuroba's side hobby and talent involved disguising as people on a casual basis too…

Kuroba raised an eyebrow after he finished stuffing his sweets back into his jeans. “Are you okay?”

Shinichi blinked. “Why did you ask?”

“You look constipated.”

“I’m not.”

“If you’re not constipated, then I guess it’s one of the three reasons that make you act like you’re constipated.” Kuroba lifted a finger. “One, you’re upset about the aftermath of a case; but I didn’t see any news about murders today, so I guess not.”

“I—”

“Two.” Kuroba gestured to the mailbox. “Tamago didn’t poop on it. So that’s out.”

“Hasn't pooped sounds better," Shinichi warned. "Since you fed it half an hour ago, it might happen anytime soon.”

Kuroba rolled his eyes, but his face grew serious again as he showed the third finger in the air. “Three.” Kuroba paused. “It is because of Mouri Ran?”

Shinichi stared back in silence.

“So it’s about her.” Kuroba lowered his hand. “Have you gone to find her?”

“Speaking of which.” Shinichi crossed his arms in defiance. “You didn’t tell me that she came.”

“I couldn’t possibly break the promise I made with a fine lady like her, can I?” Kuroba grinned as he took the last bite out of his remaining chocolate bar before crushing the wrapper in his hand. “So, since you know about this, it means you did find her.”

“Yeah.”

The scrunching sound in Kuroba’s hand stopped. He looked perfectly still— almost like a statue.

“Then,” Kuroba began, “did she forgive you?”

Shinichi nodded.

In an instance, Kuroba’s face split into a huge smile, and it was filled with so much relief and bliss that for a moment, Shinichi almost forgotten if it was he or Kuroba that was forgiven by Ran.

“That’s great!” Kuroba said.

Shinichi nodded again.

The excitement in Kuroba’s face died away as fast as it came. He furrowed his brows as he observed Shinichi. ”Shouldn’t you be feeling happy about it? What’s with your reaction?”

“What reaction?”

“Like this.” Kuroba then drooped his eyes and showed a pursed lips.

Shinichi frowned. “I don’t look like that.”

“You need a mirror.”

“No.”

“It’s not a question.” Kuroba whipped out one from his sleeve and showed it to Shinichi’s face. Indeed, Shinichi looked exactly like what Kuroba had mimicked, much to his annoyance.

“I’m fine.” Shinichi pushed the mirror away.

Kuroba scoffed before looking at Tamago, who had been sitting on the mailbox silently all these while. “Looks like somebody is moody.” Kuroba not-so-subtlety pointed at Shinichi.

But Shinichi wasn’t going to react or rebuke to Kuroba’s taunts; there was actually nothing else for him to say, because in truth (and how strange that Kuroba got it right), those three reasons should be the only three reasons that could ever make Shinichi upset, but there was a fourth one—one that Shinichi could never let it be known.

At least not to Kuroba.

Besides how time doesn’t heal all wounds, words can reopen them too.

So how could Shinichi possibly tell Kuroba that he knew everything—about his unconscious apology, the hospital conversation and the blue rose in front of the clock tower—and that he was also upset and frustrated at himself for the lack of his abilities to pull Kuroba out of his sad, sad misery?

He didn't want to be that guy again.

“Um…” Kuroba leaned back and cast Shinichi a side-long glance. “Are you really pissed though?”

Shinichi rubbed a hand down his face, hoping to wipe whatever expression Kuroba was seeing to think of that thought. “I’m not.”

Kuroba nervously hummed, before pulling out a candy from his pocket and gave it to Shinichi. “Maybe this can help?”

Knowing it would do better to accept than reject, Shinichi wordlessly took Kuroba’s offer and popped the sweet into his mouth.

”Feeling better?” Kuroba asked.

Shinichi had to swallow the sweet, to stop a sudden lump that was threatening to rise in his throat again. He looked at Kuroba’s curious and unblinking gaze, and wondered why, even when his own life wasn’t exactly full of sunshine, Kuroba could still be concerned over Shinichi, and even foolishly offering a sweet so it would make him feel better.

More than that, Kuroba even talked to Ran.

And he encouraged Shinichi to talk to Ran too.

“Thanks, Kaito,” Shinichi said.

(And it wasn’t just for the sweets.)

It was as though the world stopped for a second, and then Kaito blinked. “Di-did you just call my name?”

Shinichi smirked; it felt like a privilege to hear Kaito stutter for once. “I did.”

Kaito fished out a handful of sweets from his pocket and laid them out in his open palm. “Are these poisoned? Or are they actually drugs?” he muttered.

“They are nothing but diabetes,” Shinichi said.

Kaito looked at him, askance. “You’re being really weird today. Did Mouri Ran hit your head or something?”

Shinichi ignored him and gestured to the sweets. “You shouldn’t eat these junks at night.” He turned to Tamago. “Try to control your owner if you can.”

Tamago cooed.

Kaito narrowed his eyes at his dove and grudgingly shoved the sweets back into his pocket. “Betrayal.”

“I’m heading in.” Shinichi walked past Kaito and towards his house.

“Are you sure you don’t want to check your head?” Kaito yelled at Shinichi’s back.

“No,” Shinichi answered over his shoulder. “But you should check my mailbox after your dove flies off. I have a feeling it’s going to shit on it soon.”

As if cued, Tamago suddenly stood up, waddling its butt around for a while before departing off to Kaito’s balcony.

Kaito stared at the mailbox. “Oh.”

Just one word was enough to make Shinichi laugh.

“Do you need company?” Shinichi asked, but he didn’t wait for Kaito’s reply as he’d already turned and started walking back to the mailbox.

“Wow, how kind of you,” Kaito muttered. He then pulled a cloth out of one sleeve and a bottle of water from another.

Again, like always, the supposedly simple clean-up that wouldn’t last more than five minutes somehow turned to fifteen and eventually dragged to thirty. And in between, there would be jabs, laughters, and if Shinichi was a little lucky, he would get to know another random, yet surface-level thing about Kaito that day.

Maybe Shinichi didn’t have the power or ability to relieve Kaito’s pain, but maybe he didn’t need to do anything either. All he had to be was simply Kaito’s neighbour, the one whose mailbox got shitted on a lot, the one who needed reminders to water his plants, and the one who would agree to eat fried rice at each other’s house.

And maybe being just like the way they always were was the one and only best thing Kaito could ask ever for.

[girlinthepictureframe]

The Briefest Kiss Part 5

Part 5

“Miles,” said Alex with an uncharacteristic level of annoyance in his voice, “I told you, we’ll be in France all week. Bloody stay at my place, will you? You’ve got the key, there’s food in the fridge and you’ll have plenty of space and time to sign all those CDs and prepare for the release.”

“Alright,” Miles gave in. “I’ll stay there. Thanks, Al. I just want to make sure I’m not getting in the way of things.”

“In the way of what things? Since when do you ask these kinds of questions?” It wasn’t the first time that Miles had made remarks in complete seriousness that, two years ago, he’d have found ridiculously silly and laughable. When had they ever worried about being in each other’s ways?  

“Forget it,” grumbled Miles. “I just need a new place. Soon.”  

Alex understood that Miles was trying to change the topic, and because he didn’t want this conversation to end in a fight, he let him. It was rare enough to get him on the phone these days and he didn’t want this to become a discussion about something that he found stupid to begin with. “Do that, get a new place! How can you even get sleep with those awfully loud neighbours?”

“I’m in no position to complain,” countered Miles. “The last neighbours moved out because I always play guitar at night!”

Alex chuckled. “You’re supposed to sleep at night.”

“Oh yeah? Is that what you’re doing at night?”

“It doesn’t matter what I do at night. I don’t have any immediate neighbours who could take offense,” pointed Alex out, adding, “you should consider getting a house, Mi. That way you’d finally have room for all those shoes and guitars!”

Alex smiled when he heard Miles laughing on the other end. “I’ll consider it,” said his friend. After a moment of silence, Miles spoke again. “Hey, about the other night, sorry I didn’t go out with you. I wasn’t feeling it. But we definitely need to meet up again. It’s been ages since we had a proper night out.”

“Definitely,” agreed Alex and nodded, even though he knew Miles couldn’t see. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re pissed at me for some reason. It’s been over two months since we last saw each other.” It might not seem like a lot of time, but for them it was. “And when you were here, you barely even spent an hour. I know you’re busy, Miles. But when did you become too busy for me?” He was only half-joking. Sometimes it felt as though their friendship had taken a hit along the road, but no matter how often he checked, he could never spot the damage, only knew that it was there, hiding beneath the surface. If he had to describe it to a mechanic, all he’d be able to say is that it feels different.  

“I’m not too busy,” objected Miles, his voice heavy with regret. “I don’t know what’s going on. I feel like I’m in bit of a funk at the moment.”

Alex wished he was with him just then. He didn’t like conversations via telephone. He preferred looking people in the eyes while speaking to them. It made it easier to read emotions. And he desperately wanted to read Miles’ emotions. He sounded as lost and as confused as he himself felt too often these days. “You have to tell me if I did something wrong. You know me, Mi. I don’t always get it when I say something stupid.”

“It’s not you,” said Miles reassuringly.  

But Alex knew his friend, he could tell when Miles was being deliberately ambiguous, and, clearly, there was something that Miles was not saying. They needed to meet. It was the only way he could press him for answers. “Come to France. The weather is nice, we can hang out and I’ll leave you plenty of space to prepare all your shit for the tour, I promise. I’m sure Taylor would love to see you as well!”

“No, she wouldn’t.”

Alex sighed at Miles’ matter-of-fact statement. “It’s been months. How long do you want to drag this out?” And, also, what, precisely, were they dragging out? It was the one thing that Taylor and Miles deliberately kept from him. Sometime last year, the two of them had a big argument. He’d only overheard the tail end of it and knew it was about Miles’ break-up with Hannah. When he went and asked, first Miles, then Taylor, for details, they had both kept quiet about it. It annoyed him greatly that he didn’t know the whole story. He’d like to fix it but how could he fix it if he didn’t know where to begin!

“She’s your girlfriend, not mine. No need to make things right.” Miles went quiet and Alex waited patiently. “Al...I gotta go. I’ll call soon.” Then he hung up.

Alex couldn’t believe it; he stared at the phone in shock. This might very possibly be the first time that Miles hung up on him. “Bloody hell!?”

“You’re okay?”  

Turning around, he found Taylor leaning behind him against the kitchen counter. Alex shook his head. “No. Just talked to Miles. Something is going on with him, I just know.”

She shrugged and turned around. “Who cares?”

“I do!” said Alex quickly and resolutely. “I’m worried about my friend. I’m worried about my friendship with Miles! I’d like to think you care a little about that.”  

She spun back around and found him staring at her with a mixture of expectation and accusation. “Here’s what I would like,” said Taylor bitterly. “I’d like to think you worry about our relationship.”

Alex sat down, his eyes darted away from her and his demeanour took on a far darker shade. “I wasn’t aware I needed to worry about us.”  

“If you paid a little less attention to Miles and a little more attention to me, you’d be aware,” she all but snapped, clearly trying to contain her anger.  

Alex could tell, because he was trying to do the same. Both were doing that a lot, lately. Every dialogue between them was never more than one or two poorly chosen words away from erupting into a fight. It was a never-ending walk across a high wire. “How about a change for once,” he suggested, fed up with this perpetual undercurrent of unresolved tension, “let’s actually talk about this. Tell me why you’re so fucking mad at Miles that you can’t stand the thought of him and I being friends! It never bothered you before.”

“You’ve never kissed before.”

And there it was. His entire body tensed up. They were back to that, apparently. Alex groaned as he drove his fingers through his hair. “I thought we were over that.”  

That. The stupid, bloody kiss. The one that kept haunting his dreams more often than it should. The one that was the reason why he now locked the door to his recording studio, lyrics and notes inside. “We discussed this, Taylor. It was one silly kiss, two years ago. I meant nothing. We were drunk. That’s all.”

“I would appreciate it if you stopped calling that fucking kiss ‘silly’.” Taylor crossed her arms, staring at him angrily, reminding him, “you wrote a fucking song about that kiss!”  

What a big mistake that had been, thought Alex resentfully. But, as always, he hadn’t been able to help himself. That damned kiss occupied so much bloody space in his head that he had needed to literally write it out of there.  

‘And in response to what you whispered in my ear, I must admit sometimes I fantasise about you, too’

In its original form, the song had included a bit about a kiss. Last year, as he had been sitting at the piano, trying to find the right arrangement, she’d sat down next to him, had leaned in, and had asked, “what did I whisper?”

And he, dumb idiot that he was at times, had been so lost in his thoughts that he had promptly replied, “not you. Him.” After that, his life, complicated though it was already, had become considerably less comfortable. For the rest of the day, she had continued asking question after question, relentlessly pushing for explanations that he couldn’t give. He had only been able to take so much and after four long hours of artfully avoiding giving any sort of actual answer, he had snapped and blurted out, “Miles kissed me and, yes, I fucking liked it!”  

He guessed he should be grateful she was still with him. After all, Hannah had broken up with Miles over the whole thing. Sure, he’d told Taylor that wasn’t the reason. But who was he kidding? They all knew it was the very reason. Maybe not the only one. But it was the deciding one.  

Taylor took a step towards him, kissed his head and tilted his chin up with one finger. “Alex, I love you. And I know you love me. But maybe you need some distance from Miles? He’s busy right now, anyways. And you’re about to go on tour as well. Let’s take a vacation together. Let’s see a bit of the world. You’ve always wanted to go to India. We could do that before you’re off with the band?”

Oh, he wanted to go to India, alright. He had read much about that country. About the culture. About everything, really. And he couldn’t wait to see it with his own eyes. But it wasn’t Taylor he wanted standing next to him when he got there. Not that he could tell her that. “Babe, the timing isn’t right. Not now.”

“But you agree about needing some distance from Miles?”

“No. I barely see him as it is and once touring starts, we’ll see even less of each other. He is a very big, very important part of my life.”

“Yes,” she muttered in resignation. “And we’ve got the lyrics to prove that, don’t we?”

“I hate when you do that!”

“You do?”

She was pissing him off and he was beginning to think she was doing it on purpose. Which, in return, riled him up more and more. “You told me you made out with some girl backstage while Miles and I were playing in New York. I really don’t think you should be sitting on such a fucking high horse right now!”

“We were fucking joking around, it didn’t mean anything,” she all but yelled. “I didn’t write a fucking love song about her!”

“It’s not a love song!” As she glowered at him, he began pacing the kitchen angrily. “A love song is what I wrote for you, Tennessee, remember?”

Taylor slumped back against a wall, deflated and tired. “You want to know the difference between my song and his song? My song is everything a good love song should be. It’s passionate, it’s sexy, it’s got the rights words to it. It’s perfect. And it’s perfect because you’re Alex Fucking Turner and when you decided to write me a love song, naturally, you wrote the perfect song with the perfect words and the perfect arrangement and you wrote it so that everyone knows how fucking good of a songwriter you are!”

“Is that a compliment or a bloody insult?” He asked indignantly.

“Mine is the romantic tale that you want the world to know. His is the deepest truth that you desperately try to keep a secret.” A bitter laugh broke free from her lips. “Tell me, Mr. Songwriter Extraordinaire, which song would you like to have written about you?”  

Alex didn’t answer. He wasn’t entirely sure she wanted an answer. He wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to make up his answer. And, also, he wasn’t entirely sure that, at this point, an answer would make any kind of difference.  

“Out of words. Imagine that,” said Taylor and left the kitchen.  

[sheepsandcattle]

Chapter 20

A fortnight later, he sees him for the first time in six weeks.

For the first time sober, at least.

Thank God Jordan’s not the type to feel awkward, because Curly feels weird as fuck when he picks him up, but J has that going right out the window when he drops into the passenger seat and starts grumbling about some bloke that was meant to lend him his car.

“He thinks I’ve been hooking up with his girl,” he’s already saying as Curly pulls out of his street. “He knows I’m a queer – he’s always tweaking though, he ain’t right, I’m tellin’ ya.”

They go to a cafe for lunch where he gets pizza, Jordan gets a burger and they share chips in the centre of the table and it’s… Well, nice wouldn’t be the word for it. Jordan is oblivious, of course. Head bowed as he sucks his shake through the straw, his cap not quite shadowing him enough to cover the spray of freckles that last month’s sun must have brought. The lost time feels heavy. Curly’s enjoying being back in Jordan’s company and loves that they laugh and make fun like nothing ever happened, but it all feels a bit… Unsettled.

He’s always been stubborn like that though. Can’t take no for an answer; can’t take nothing for an answer.

Curly’s dad used to say he could always feel when an ‘if,’ ‘but,’ or ‘maybe’ is in the air – usually when Curly was trying to get his way and was looking for loopholes when his old man told him no. Now, as they cough at the end of each conversation, fill silences with chewing and slurping and stop-start words like they both keep changing their minds, there’s a definite ‘maybe’ in the air.

Maybe they can pretend it never went wrong.

Maybe they can just be mates, forget about all the other bits.

Maybe they’ll just pretend they never spoke in the first place, make it easier on their friends and themselves.

He’s almost there; nearly at the point where he’s feeling just content enough to let it all slide, but then Jordan’s foot nudges his and that’s what does it.

And to be fair they’ve been kicking each other since they sat down, with every playful dig they’ve made at each other, but this time is only gentle -an accident- and J’s face drops for barely a second. Curly’s just talking about those nose bleeds he gets and how he used to get them all the time, but now not so much; “just when I’m stressed or… Overdoing it,” he says as he catches J’s smile disappear for barely long enough to notice, before the pulls his leg away entirely, props his foot on the edge of his seat and hooks a tattooed hand over his knee to keep it secure at his chest.

He nearly says sorry -doesn’t know why- but then Jordan’s clearing his throat before he says, “well that explains it.”

It takes Curly a second before he clicks into what he’s on about. “I can’t believe it happened at the party,” he groans. “I can’t believe I don’t bloody remember it.”

“Bet your shirt remembers it.” The man snorts. “What do you remember?” It feels like a bit of a dig, but Curls knows better than to bite Jordan’s head off for the sake of saving his pride now. Jordan slides his milkshake across the table to Curly as he raises an accusing brow. “Anything at all?”

That phone call comes to mind; the morning-after call; Jordan saying “about what you said;” the call getting cut short before he could ask exactly what that meant.

“I remember calling some bloke a bigot for being up Morrissey’s arse.” He pauses to take a drink through the straw, humming as he rubs his head at the thought of his next recollection; “I remember fully nutting the bathroom wall.”

Jordan’s laugh is loud and comes from absolutely nowhere. It has one of the waitressed looking curiously in their direction and Curly hides behind his hands, shaking his head as he speaks.

“Put me out of my misery, J,” he wines. “What hell did I say to you?”

Jordan hesitates, retrieving the milkshake. “Well…” Curly reckons he’s just stalling. Was it that bad? He has a million scenarios running through his head; countless things he’d told himself were true about Jordan just to keep the guy out of his mind these past weeks. It would have been so easy for any one of them to slip out, whether he ever meant it or not. “Do you remember telling me you love me?”

He chokes on absolutely nothing.

“It’s fine,” Jordan is quick to say, a little amused by the looks of it, the tight git. “I wasn’t gonna say shit – I know you were out of it. I just… I mean, honestly, I wanted to see your face when I told you.”

“Evil little cunt,” he reaches across the table to knock the beak of Jordan’s cap.

“Besides,” J’s still giggling as he adjusts his hat. “You said it among… A lot of other things I’d like to think you also didn’t mean.”

“I’m so sorry,” he grumbles. Course he didn’t mean it; for once that’s not something he needs to convince himself of. He and Jordan had a mint few weeks together, but fucking hell, love wasn’t even a thought that crossed his mind. “Really, I am.”

“Don’t worry. I think that’s what you meant to say.”

“What else did I say?”

“Same as the last time we spoke. I shouldn’t speak to you anymore, I’m trying to control you…“

“That in’t true, it’s—“

“I know,” Jordan reassures him. His eyes are set, face blank, but Curly believes him.

“It’s just the shit I told myself to… I don’t know. Justify the way I was.” Curls shakes his head. “I’m mortified.”

Jordan just nods his head and he finished his shake in silence. “Let’s drive around a while.”

***

In England, Curly used to hate driving at night. His mates would ask to go for drives and he’d always make his excuses to avoid being behind the wheel, hating the way the lights on the road would blur together and the noise from the back seats would make him dizzy.

Now it’s the only time he ever really drives at all.

After around half an hour of making beelines through the city, he somehow finds his way back to that carpark by the old shop and parks up right in their corner. J’s gone quiet in the passenger seat, squinting up at the sky as he taps his heel to Curly’s playlist; something Curly knows he’d be doing with or without the music, but takes it as a compliment to his taste.

He follows Jordan’s eye line, up to the moon that’s almost full but not quite, and the light that hovers beside it.

“Uranus,” he mumbles.

Jordan coughs, turning with wide eyes as he chuckles. “What?”

“Next to the moon.”

Curly points, and Jordan looks up again, still smiling as the tail of his laugh trails away.

“Right.” He huffs. “Why the fuck d’you know that?”

Curly shrugs. “Got this calendar from my grandad. He’s proper into it.”

He only gets a hum in response, but it’s alright because Jordan’s not taking the piss at least. He’s leaning forward now, forearms on the dashboard as he ducks to look up at the sky.

“Weird ain’t it? There’s no stars up there, but then you stare for so long they just all start coming out of nowhere.”

J hums again. “Brockton’s kinda nice if you look hard enough.”

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Curly twists in his seat to lean back against the door, just barely feeling the cool glass press against the back of his head through his hair.

For a while, Jordan just looks up at the sky, bobbing his head through the end verse of the song before it finishes and Curls he lets the silence win them over until the track changes to the next.

Jordan finally pulls himself away from the view after a while, opening Curly’s glove box, and begins to dig.

“D’you mind?” Curls frowns.

“I’ve heard all of these songs now,” J explains. “You gotta get a bigger playlist, so—” He pulls a book of maps from the compartment, then fishes out a pen that Curls wasn’t even aware he had. “I’m helping.”

Jordan writes him a list of bands to listen to and, although it’s only ten when he drops him off, Curly promises to stay up to listen to the bands on the list as long as J promises to stay up 'til midnight to watch the sky when the moon and it’s temporary neighbour are at their peak, “but not through a telescope, you won’t fit them both into the view.”

“You think I have a telescope?” J laughs and Curly shrugs as he watches him slip out of the passenger-side door.

“See you later,” Jordan says before he shuts it, but then rounds the car to duck beside Curly’s open window. “It was good to see you, Curls,” he smiles, nods and taps the car roof. “Really good.”

***

It becomes more frequent. It’s usually Curly that drives, since it turns out that Jordan actually got into a fistfight with the guy whose car he was borrowing before, so there’s no going back there any time soon.

It’s strange, how there are so many things that never came up before. So many little facts about each other that they never uncovered before, like how Jordan’s hair is naturally brown (but near-black in high school) or how one of Curly’s bottom teeth is fake because he fell off the top of an outdoor toilet when he was sixteen and chipped it.

“What the fuck did you land on?” Jordan’s pulling a face as he ducks in a little to get a look at the tooth, although Curly knows it’s good as new now.

“Concrete, mate,” he snorts and, for a second, realises his choice of words, then notes that Jordan doesn’t correct him this time, but it’s alright. He gets it. They’re not going there this time and it’s fine. Living and learning and all that.

After their second meeting, he burns some of his favourite songs from Jordan’s artist list onto a CD, mixed with a few new ones from his personal collection, and they listen together when they go for drives. He makes a mixtape just for Jordan too, of songs he needs to hear because he’s sick of hearing him say “never head of them.” He makes him promise to listen to The Streets and New Order in particular at first but then finds out that Jordan only knows “The Cure’s popular stuff” and digs out their entire discography to educate him as a priority.

“They’re the best band out there,” he declares. “Can’t beat ‘em.”

“That explains the tattoo,” Jordan nods toward Curly’s arm where, beneath his sleeve, is a small cartoon bottle with the band’s name scrawled over the label. Although it’s covered, Curly grins at the thought of the man remembering both the tattoo’s placement and design.

“That was my first one. It wrecked. Stick’n’poke.”

“Ouch. Was it worth it?”

“Mate, The Cure are mint. ‘Course it was worth it.”

A few days later, Jordan climbs into his car with all of the CDs in his hands and says “okay, yeah, I get it,” as he ejects the CD already in the player to replace it with one of the mixtapes. “I see why you’re so into The Cure.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, British people talk about really weird shit but—” Jordan shrugs. --I’m used to it.” He gives Curly an accusing look.

***

He isn’t getting ahead of himself this time, but they are always texting and calling each other now. They really are just trying to be mates and it’s going well. They can pretend that nothing ever happened because he supposes that, in a way, it never really did.

Maybe it’s because he’s back in a good headspace that he’s making half-decent money again before long; enough to pay rent and enough to keep himself sorted. Some of his clients (yeah, he says clients now) passed his number on to friends and his connections have almost doubled since his last peak. He’s got a bed frame now. He’s saving for a portable heater.

This new headspace isn’t the magical cure that stunts his cravings, but it’s helped with the habitual drug use. He’s not sure he even realised he’d started defaulting to coke when he had nothing better to do (thought he was doing well, having a hit a day and only in the evenings) but he can feel it now. The world is back in HD again and the days feel nice and long. He’s not losing as much time recently and, where heroin is concerned, his hits are purely necessary now. He takes what he needs and that’s all.

One evening, they’re in Jordan’s apartment and they’re watching American Psycho, crammed up on the same side of the couch with Jordan’s arm draped behind his back. Curly’s now accustomed to hanging his left leg over Jordan’s right because the man shakes it persistently when the plot gets tense and it’s just a little bit annoying. This he can live with.

They both know they’ve sort of been working towards something but are equally unsure as to what it is this time, because it all feels nice and content just the way it is, but it suddenly doesn’t feel like it’s going one way or the other.

He’s not entirely aware that he needs it, but it’s so good to hear it when Jordan says, “hey, Curls? Let’s give it another try.”

[mysteli]

drunk text (jake x mc)

A/N: I’m back after a loooonngg time and this fic exists thanks to @brightpinkpeppercorn. I’m not really sure what to think of but I’m still posting it. it’s more of a comedic piece. But I have more romantic shit coming in the future. Don’t worry!

Warning: innuendo, swearing 

Recommended music: idk

Words: 2066

PERMA TAG LIST: @brightpinkpeppercorn@cocomaxley@hopefulmoonobject@alesana45 @jellybean-marshmellow@mymandrake@regrettingnathan@dobie2112@princessstellaris@mechaspirit@skyila @mind-reader1  @xo-endlessmayhem-xo@sakaily@justboredtrash@regina-and-happiness@annekebbphotography. @endlessly-searching-for-you@reginasayeed@zigortega4life@eileendannie@diamondoasis@speedyoperarascalparty@emomoustache@lostlightningbug@endlesstaylormckenzie @alekai-sayeed@akrenich@vickypoo91@nitta-jaeguet@femmeshep @hayden-park@mkatschoicesblog

Prompt used: ““Stop texting me weird stuff so late at night”

Let me know if you wanna be tagged! 💗and let me know if the tags work because Tumblr is acting up.

Summary: A couple glasses of wine lead Michelle and Quinn into stealing Logan’s phone. What could possibly go wrong?

Masterlist

ENDLESS SUMMER FAN FICTION DRUNK TEXT

“Who wants more wine?!” Michelle questions in a high, obnoxious tone, her voice thick with energy and excitement.

Logan and Quinn had both volunteered to help Michelle start decorating her house as she prepares to move in with Sean. She’s been talking about how nervous she is to take the next step with him but she’s also aware of how amazing it’ll be to get more serious with the man she loves. Logan is a person as helpful as they come so of course she’d decide to help her out with the interior. Same could be said for Quinn but who ever clarified that the day had to be completely innocent?

Turns out they overestimated how long this would take to complete and they finished the entire living room in the space of six hours, which is very quick for an entire room. It looked pretty put together too, with everything in place aside from the stuff the moving van forget to bring over and just that stressed Michelle out a lot.

So, when they finished, Michelle suggested letting a little loose and she revealed a bottle of wine, which was downed fairly quickly. They promised that they’d only have one glass each. But one glass slowly turned into two, then three... then four... then five. Now they’re all completely wasted.

“Me, me, me!” Logan exclaims, snatching the bottle out of Michelle’s hand and taking a massive sip.

“Hey! It’s not all for you, Lo!” Michelle argues, snatching it back with force. Logan forms a challenging smirk in response, wiping the leftover liquid off her mouth.

“Oh come on! You have about five more bottles!”

“Sharing is caring, Logan.” Quinn chimes in, smiling appreciatively as Michelle hands her another glass.

“It’s 3am, Quinn, and we’re doing this. It’s clear we don’t care. Surprised the neighbours haven’t left an complaint.” Logan responds, folding her arms as she takes a seat on the floor. They’d been playing really childish games since 10pm that night. Games like truth or dare, never have I ever and would you rather. The standard teenager trash that they’d play in high school. Then they turned to karaoke, which was a guarantee for angry neighbours, right? Yet nothing came through.

Hell, Logan didn’t even realise she’d be here this long. And she had to lie to Jake about why she was staying over. Of course, she knew he’d just laugh it off if she said she’d been drinking all damn night. But she wasn’t in the mood for his teasing so she messaged him with a little white lie, claiming they hadn’t finished and were exhausted so she’d just stay over and finish off in the morning. He understood completely, telling her he loved her and hoping she’d have a goodnight.

How oddly nice of him.

“I’m bored. Are there any games we haven’t played?” Quinn wonders, turning to Michelle for an answer. She simply shrugs her shoulders in response, seating herself on the floor with the others in the awkward little circle they’d shaped.

Suddenly, a lightbulb goes off in Michelle’s head and her face lights up proudly. “We could drunk text someone.” She beams, lifting her arms high in the air and her glass rises with them, the action causing some liquid to plummet onto the carpet. “Shit. Good thing I’m getting new carpet.”

“Ooh! That sounds fun.” Quinn agrees, clapping her hands together excitedly. “What do you think, Lo?”

“Sure, I’m down for that.” Logan nods in agreement, though if she’d know how this would turn out, she would have said no. “Who do you wanna drunk text though?”

Michelle scans the room as she thinks of a possible victim to their game, a devious smile crossing her lips as her eyes land on where Logan’s phone lies on the floor. The perfect receiver for the situation.

Logan notices the way Michelle is looking at her and a wave of realisation washes over her. “No no no, Meech! You’re not drunk texting Jake.” She dismisses the idea and Michelle rolls her eyes in annoyance.

“Why not? It would be so funny.” Michelle points out and Quinn nods fiercely in agreement.

“No it wouldn’t! Jake would get pissed.” Logan counters their argument and shakes her head in denial. “Besides he’s probably asleep.”

“Even better.” Michelle mutters, snatching the phone off the floor before Logan can stop her. Logan only now regrets ever sharing her password with Michelle.

With a proud smirk, Michelle opens the phone and goes straight to messages, finding Jake’s name as the first one. Suddenly, she bursts out laughing when she notices something unusual in his contact name.

“Oh my god, Lo! Why is there a drooling emoji by his name?” Michelle mocks, her laughter only increasing the more words she gets out. Quinn quickly joins in on the giggles upon hearing that. “Aw, and a love heart. Cute.”

Logan hides her embarrassment by clapping her hands over her face. “Fuck off, Meech. Who knows what you have by Sean’s name?”

“Oh it’s just your standard hearts. You know, because I’m normal.” Michelle corrects, struggling to suppress her laughter. “Oh come on, Lo. Jake isn’t all that.”

“Well, you haven’t had him in bed like I have, huh Michelle?” Logan beams proudly, winking at Michelle, who looks like she’s on the verge of throwing up. Another idea pops into Michelle’s mind and Logan gets worried as she begins scrolling up. “What are you doing?”

“How about we look through your past conversations?” Michelle suggests, her malicious intentions clear but Logan knows just how to shut them down.

“Go ahead then. Keep scrolling if you want Jake’s dick embedded in your memory forever.” Logan retorts and instantly, Michelle is put off by the idea, her finger scrolling back down.

“Fine. You win that one. But we’re still drunk texting him.” Michelle clarifies, preparing to type something before turning to Quinn for suggestions. “Any ideas, Quinn?”

“I say, just start off by sending him a long ass heyyyyyy.” Quinn suggests and Michelle nods eagerly. “Any weird nicknames, Lo?”

Logan doesn’t respond, rolling her eyes in defeat. Clearly she’s just gonna accept that this is happening.

“Oh! Call him Princess.” Quinn exclaims, dancing with pride as she giggles with glee.

Michelle types out the message, adding a few extra emojis for good measure.

Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy Princess 🤤🥰❤️

“Threw in the drooling emoji so he knows it’s you, Lo.” Michelle points out, winking at an irritated Logan.

It takes a few minutes for Jake to reply, probably since he’s waking up from a slumber or something. Michelle and Quinn jump with eagerness and curiosity when the phone vibrates, signalling that a text has come through.

i thought it was my job to call you that darlin 😉

Michelle rolls her eyes at Jake’s response, hiding a mocking smirk. “Oh shit. One text in and he’s already hit us with the darlin’ crap.”

“And a winky face!” Quinn exclaims with forced shock. “Say something, Michelle!”

Well you’re a bootiful little princess sooo maybe that should be MYY job 🥺

Almost immediately, an offended response comes through.

Little?? 😂😂

Michelle is instantly confused by his reaction to her clearly mocking his masculinity. “Okay, so he reacts to being called little but is not offended by anything else?!”

“He’s just gonna laugh it off if you call him little.” Logan chimes in, shaking her head at how childish her friends are being right now.

“How do we piss him off then?”

“Like I’m gonna fucking tell you.” Logan denies, mimicking their mocking laughter.

Yes, little. You’re my little tiny babyyyyy 👶🤪

It takes a little longer for a response to come through this time. But when it does, it’s so worth the wait.

Are you drunk Princess???? 🤔

I thought you said you were sleeping early at Michelle’s.

Michelle reads the text aloud and that’s when Logan already can’t take it anymore. She rushes over and snatches back her phone before typing an apology to Jake.

Sorry baby. Michelle and Quinn stole my phone. 🙄

Logan moves to the other side of the room where Michelle and Quinn can’t sneak attack in order to get her phone back. Stressed, she runs a hand through her platinum hair as a response comes through.

Oh. Are they drunk???

Suddenly anxious that he’d find out she lied, she buries her face in the wall and curses under her breath, not sure how to respond to his question. In the distance, she can hear the snickers of Michelle and Quinn. Hell, Logan is still drunk herself so she doesn’t have complete control over herself right now.

No 🤫

Why did she have to add the emoji?! Why?

Pretty sure that means you’re hiding something princess 🤥

“Fuck!” Logan shouts as she gazes up at the ceiling hopelessly.

“Oh shit. Did Jake find out?” Quinn teases and Logan can’t hold back her frustration in that moment. In one swift motion, she takes off her shoe and tosses it at Quinn. The red head barely dodges it and her laughter only increases in reaction. “Nice shot.”

In the end, Logan just rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to her phone.

why would I lie to you?? you’re too pretty to be lied to 🥺

Oh shit. The drunk side of Logan is starting to really shine through.

yeahhhh you’re drunk too 😂damn i should’ve fucking known

Sure, he’s laughing about it. But it still fucking hurts that he found out this way. Thanks to Michelle and Quinn.

“Usually your fights turn to fucking so has it happened yet?” Michelle pipes up, only to receive a middle finger from Logan.

Out of nowhere, a phone call comes through from Jake and Logan freezes in place, unsure what to do.

“Oh wow. He’s calling you?” Quinn reacts, laughing igniting once more. “Better answer your loving husband.”

Logan sighs heavily before answering the phone, leaning against the wall as Jake’s muffled voice speaks through the call.

��Well, well, well, look who decided to get drunk and not invite me.”

Logan’s jaw drops at his reaction, not surprised with the constant teasing but more surprised by how little laughter is being expressed right now.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have lied to you. I just wanted to avoid this.” Logan apologises, exhaling sharply after she speaks. She wipes the sweat that creases her forehead, unsure why she’s so nervous.

“Hey, it’s fine. Anything to have an excuse to talk to you is a good thing to me.”

Logan lets out a soothing sigh of relief, still haunted by the mocking laughter of Michelle and Quinn from the other side of the room. Jake appears to hear it too, judging by what he says next.

“Hey, darlin’. Put me on speaker for a moment.”

Logan grants his request and walks over to Michelle and Quinn with a newly found smirk on her face, countering the mischief on their expressions.

“Jake wants to say something.”

Michelle and Quinn listen out of curiosity to what Jake wishes to say.

“Yo, Chanel and Ariel.”

They both roll their eyes at the nicknames, their expressions of mockery finally falling.

“Stop texting me weird stuff so late at night.” Jake requests at calmly as he can and Michelle and Quinn burst out into laughter once again.

“Sure, pilot. We’re so sorry for interrupting your beauty sleep.”

Jake releases a frustrated huff and Logan knows he could lash out at both of them right here right now. Before he can say anything else, Logan turns off speaker phone and brings the device back to her ear.

“Now, now Jake. Let’s play nice, okay?” She tries to reason with him and he seems to obey, judging by the collected tone he speaks in next.

“Hmph. With them, I will. With you, I won’t.”

The husky tone of his voice and the innuendo behind his words leaves Logan breathless. An unexpected rush washes through her body in reaction.

“Well, you’re just gonna have to wait until I get home.”

“Or not. You could come home right now.”

Logan checks the time once more. 3:30am.

“Jake, it’s half past 3 in the morning.”

“I’ll come pick you up. Come on, darlin’. I’m sure right now you’d give anything to be away from Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee.”

[badwolfwrites-sometimes]

Drawn Together

Hi! This is my first fanfic so criticism is welcome and encouraged. I'll probably update it slowly tho...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18923374/chapters/44924251

The wheel of fortune never stops spinning.

Who was on the top, now is on the bottom.

And who was on the bottom, now is on the top.

-Giovanni Gondola, Osman

Feliciano never expected his entire life to change after a single doodle, but there it was. And it was not just a beautiful dream.

Chapter 1

Venice, 2018

"I have to buy more blue and green." Came from a young man watering his tulips on the windowsill. He brushed his light brown hair with his fingers away from his face, allowing it to bathe in the early morning sun rays. He wasn't normally the person who would wake up early in the morning, but duty calls and he had work to do.

His brothers had yet to wake up and, if we're being honest, he enjoyed the morning silence. It was always very noisy in the house. His younger brother Romeo had a habit of singing loudly and, sometimes, off key which pisses off his eldest brother Lovino. It was a good thing they lived a bit outside of Venice and not in the centre or else the neighbours would complain all the time.

And he, a stunning 22 year old man who answers to Feliciano, was always just there. He wasn't really all that flashy like his brothers. Sure, he had his talents, one being art which was also his job, but he was mostly known as the happy one from the Vargas family. Maybe that was for the best.

He just finished watering his tulips when he heard a loud thud followed by a bad word you probably shouldn't teach to your kids. Lovino was awake and if he wanted to live to finish his painting of the Adriatic Sea, he better make him some coffee.

He set down the watering pot and started the coffee machine. Knowing his brother, he has about 20 minutes till he gets ready enough to come down to the kitchen. Just enough time to make breakfast as well.

Feliciano opened the bottom drawer next to the washing machine to take some bread Romeo baked the night before as well as some jam and Nutella from the table next to the stove. He knew Lovino liked it when he made his special half jam half Nutella bread, even though the latter would never admit that.

Lovino was down right on time for breakfast and coffee which means Feliciano gets to live for one more day.

"Morning." Lovino greeted, his voice still sore from sleeping.

"Good morning, Lovi!" Feliciano returned and offered his brother two pieces of bread and his cup of coffee with some anime girls on it. "Are you driving Romeo to collage today?"

"No. Midget can walk to his collage. Maybe he gets some tan from the stupid sun blinding my eyes at 4 in the damn morning."

Despite being the shortest of the three, Lovino still had a bad habit of calling his brothers midgets. Talk about Napoleon complex.

"I was thinking we should all take a walk. It's a nice day and it's been too long since we took a walk together. Plus I need to buy more paint." Feliciano smiled as he made his own cup of coffee, with a picture of the Colosseum on it, and sat down beside his brother.

"When are you gonna get a real job? You can't just draw for a living. Get an actual job that pays well and you can do art in your spare time." Lovino looked at Feliciano, who has most certianly heard this all before.

"It's what I love, Lovi. It's what I want to do with my life. Believe it or not, money isn't everything in the world. I want to be happy with my life. I don't wanna waste it doing something I hate just because it pays well." Feliciano rolled his eyes.

"So you're planning on living off Grandpa's allowances, love and some drawings? That's more miserable than doing what you hate. I hate my job, do you see me miserable? No. Then why can't you do the same?"

"Because I'm not you and I don't wanna talk about this. It's my choice, Lovi. Not yours."

And with that the conversation died, the two brothers continuing their breakfast in awkward silence. Until...

There was a loud thumping and a red headed boy was before them in less than a minute. His messy hair falling on his face, the eyebags still visible. He was gasping for his breath.

"Why didn't anyone wake me up?!" He said in between smaller gasps.

"Romeo, you're 19. You're old enough to wake yourself up." Lovino said, not remotely fazed by his brother's state.

"Um, no. If you woke up before me, you should have woken me up. You know my phone alarm doesn't work. Or my phone at all."

"Fratellino, calm down. You're not in high school anymore, your collage doesn't start till 9. It's 6:40." Feliciano laughed. He had the same problem when he left high school too.

Romeo looked at the clock. It showed 6:40. His high school would start at 7 AM. His body still wasn't used to the new surrounding that was collage. He buried his head in his hands and sat down. "What's for breakfast?"

"My speciality." Feliciano offered him some Nutella-jam bread.

"I love it when you get up early."

"I know you do." Feliciano laughed and the breakfast was continued.

It was 8:00 when Romeo left the house for collage, leaving Lovino and Feliciano alone. Lovino was getting ready in his room while Feliciano wrote the list of things he needed to buy. They were running low on coffee and milk, but most importantly Feliciano wanted to buy a new brush. His old one had far too many stray hairs to be used for delicate painting. It's a shame, but he had it since he was little. Of course he needed a new one.

"Are you done?" Lovino asked, spraying himself with some 'manly' perfume that smelled like plastic strawberry.

"Yeah, I'm done. I just have to find my jacket." Feliciano said, throwing every single jacket they had hanging in the hallway on the floor. A strange method, but it worked because he found his dark green fall jacket and returned all the others back on the stall.

"Good. Let's go. I have to go to the town for some buissness so if we don't hurry bye bye vaporetto." Lovino cringed at the reaction his brother made. They lived close to Venice, but they still had to travel by a smaller ship called vaporetto to get to it. It was inconvenient, but it was good for the tourist season.

Feliciano practically skipped the whole way to the port. There was one vaporetto waiting for people to board. Lovino entered inside to ask when it will be leaving and to pay for their ticket. Feliciano waited outside for his brother and when he exited the room to tell Feliciano they will be leaving soon, Feliciano boarded the ship.

The ride to Venice would usually take them about 45 minutes to a full hour, depending on whether or not there were many tourist groups. Today there was only two of them. Germans. Feliciano had taken a course on German in middle school, but he had mostly forgotten it. He understood that they were talking about some kind of new book that was a hit among youth in Germany. A book about Venice itself. He wished he still knew how to speak German. He would have asked for a title.

They arrived on Riva degli Schiavoni, a bridge and a walk away from the magnificent Basilica di San Marco and it's large Piazza which was always crowded with either people or pigeons. Feliciano loved to run into pigeons, loving the way their wings moved as they flew away. He wanted to do that now, but apparently his brother wasn't planning on more walking and was talking, rather happily, to their old friend Antonio, who was a gondolier.

"Feli! I gotta go to post office, not pigeon chasing! Get your ass over here!" Lovino yelled, reverting back to his moody attitude. He jumped into the gondola and sat down, crossing his arms and legs.

"I'm coming, quit yelling! Hi Toni! I hope Lovi pays you for this." Feliciano greeted and jumped into the gondola and sat down next to his brother. He was looking foward to going under Ponte dei Sospiri. He was even preparing himself to breathe out while going under it.

"It's always free for you three. We're friends after all. Lovi can pay me with a little drink after I'm done with my shift." Antonio said as he adjusted his gondola and softly made his way to the post office near the Church of San Salvador.

Feliciano enjoyed everything he saw. He was born here, but in his entire lifetime he could never comprehend Venice's entire beauty. It was only when he saw a bookstore hidden well among tall buildings and restaurants, that he snapped himself out of the trance.

"Hey Toni, do you think you could bring me right here while we wait for Lovi to do his thing?" He asked, turning around to look at Antonio.

Antonio brushed his curly dark brown hair away from his green eyes and nodded at Feliciano. "Sure! Saw something pretty?"

"Yeah, a bookstore. It had a nice design and I wanted to check it out. Plus I need to buy more paint and bookstores tend to have good ones." He answered happily, oblivious to his brother rolling his eyes.

The ride to the post office was relatively short and quiet, with occasional comments from Feliciano and Antonio asking how their grandpa was doing. They dropped off Lovino and were on their way back to the bookstore Feliciano saw.

"You got a book in mind to buy?" Antonio asked.

"Maybe. I overheard some German tourist talking about this book about Venice or something. I thought I should check if they had it." Feliciano smiled softly at Antonio.

"I think I know what you're talking about. Armando recently bought this book called Silence in Venice, by a German author. I asked my German friend about it and he told me that it was all the rage in Germany now. Apparently, it's a love story about a boy who goes to war and leaves behind his childhood love. That's all I know, Andy didn't tell me much else to avoid spoilers as he says."

"A love story... I really like those. Thanks, Toni!"

Soon they arrived and Feliciano hugged Antonio as a thanks, promising he won't be long.

He entered the bookstore and was immediately striken by the smell of new books. That wonderful scent of paper that was about to be touched and read by many. It was so pleasant, he would have just kept standing there forever. But he had to move, Antonio was waiting for him outside and maybe even Lovino. Knowing his brother, if he waited longer than 10 minutes, he would lose his already short temper.

Feliciano quickly found the desired shades of blue and green as well as a new paintbrush that had small drawings on it. It was a bit more expensive than the normal brush, but it spoke to his soul so... how could he say no?

He was about to go pay for his things, when a book cover caught his eye. It had a picture of two people, a boy and a girl, on Ponte di Rialto, embracing each other like they were about to lose each other. The girl had long light brown hair tied in two side braids and was wearing a beautiful green dress. The boy had blonde hair that looked like it was previously slicked back, but messed up by the wind, and was wearing a war uniform. Feliciano knew which book it was. The title read Il Silenzio a Venezia. Silence in Venice. The book Antonio recommended to him.

Feliciano couldn't resist it. He bought it and happily skipped to the gondola on which Antonio waited for him. He clutched the book in his arms close to his chest, impatiently waiting to read it.

[jahaanofmenaphos]

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

Read the full work here:

ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

FANFICTION.NET

TUMBLR CHAPTER INDEX

QUEST 04: THE BATTLE OF LUMBRIDGE

QUEST SUMMARY:

Now that the gods can return to Gielinor, Saradomin and Zamorak waste little time and return to war once more. This time, Lumbridge is their battlefield. While the battle wages on, Jahaan tries to find out more about the mysterious Mahjarrat who has taken a particular interest in him…

CHAPTER 3: OVER TO NARDAH

The Kharidian Desert was a vast land found south of the wooded kingdom of Misthalin and Morytania. The desert was the home to some of the oldest civilisations in Gielinor, ranging from the Menaphites that built the cities of Ullek and Uzer, to the bandits that are almost all that remain of the followers of Zaros. As a result, it is amongst the most history-rich and treasure-filled areas in the world. It is this that has attracted so many archaeologists and explorers to the area, but not without consequence. Here the scorching desert winds blasted the sand, turning the dunes into a sea. The blazing sun watched tirelessly from the sky, slowly draining the life of all that walks beneath it. The vultures circled overhead, eating the corpses of those that the desert bested, and packs of starving wolves searched endlessly for prey, their hunger never sated. Many have entered the desert, never to return.

Indeed, the Kharidian Desert has earned its reputation as dangerous, merciless, and unyielding, especially to those who underestimated it.

Because he did not have a deathwish, Jahaan took a magic carpet ride to Nardah, happy to pay the pricey fee over the alternatives, which included, but were not limited to: a camel ride with a rather surly camel, or one that dabbles in bad romantic poetry; riding in the back of a cart, potentially in a barrel (he’d seen a man transporting a woman in a barrel the last time he crossed the desert, but was certain it was a mirage… potentially… it was up for debate); or walking it. That last one… was tricky. He’d traversed the desert on foot before, leaving Menaphos on foot and, over a period of months, with a lot of pit stops at hydrated cities, made it all the way to Al Kharid.

It was not an experience he cared to repeat.

Now that magic carpets were a thing that even he could afford, he hopped on gladly, thankful that the breeze from the motion took over from the chokingly humid desert air that would fill his lungs with sand. He didn’t exactly understand how these carpet rides worked, how they knew where to go without a driver, how they avoided all obstacles in their path, so Jahaan just accepted the answer of ‘because magic’ and left it at that.

It took only a few hours before the carpet landed safely at Nardah. When Jahaan stepped off, his body still felt like it was moving, his head swirling, and it made him feel rather dizzy. This proved most notable when he tried to walk in a straight line and veered distinguishably to the left, much to the amusement of the magic carpet operator.

Now he had the tricky task of remembering which house was the right one.

It had been a couple of years since he’d last been in Nardah, but thankfully the city hadn’t changed all that much in the meantime. Previously, during his first excursion through the town, it was experiencing a severe drought. Many believed this was due to a curse placed upon the city by the goddess, Elidinis, who founded the city in the first place, and felt betrayed when a Saradominist preacher convinced the residents to worship the blue lord over her. Thankfully, this curse had been reversed in the meantime, and Nardah was hydrated and prosperous once more. Nevertheless, the city still appeared dilapidated and old, almost like a ruin, with many of the sandstone buildings crumbling.

Due to their near identical nature, it was hard to remember just exactly where the house he was looking for was located.

On the outskirts, past the fountain, not THAT fountain… I think it was to the west of the library… was this statue here the last time I came through?

The internal mumblings in Jahaan’s mind did not echo confidence, and he grew more and more frustrated as he passed the same smither’s workshop three times.

Eventually, he gave up, feeling like a defeated tourist, and asked for directions from some of the locals. At least then he was going in the right direction.

Finally, he arrived at the quaint little building he sought, a ornamental plaque hung from a nail on the door confirming this.

Jahaan knocked twice on the sturdy door, hearing the deep echo the contact of his knuckles made against the wood and noted it as a sign of good craftsmanship. It was a new addition to his humble abode.

Moments later, the door was prised open, and Ali the Wise greeted Jahaan with a pleasant smile and a humanoid appearance. “Jahaan! I did not know I would be seeing you so soon. Please, come in.”

“Wahisietel,” Jahaan greeted, walking through into his friend’s living room. The place hadn’t changed much since the last time he had passed through, though the book collection had, miraculously, increased tenfold. He’d also splashed out on a new set of bookshelves to match the lovely oak door, and even a new set of pots for the kitchen.

“Sit down, allow me to make you some tea,” Wahisietel offered, motioning to the cushioned chairs. As he busied himself in the kitchen, Jahaan meekly called out, “I know you’re a Mahjarrat, Wahisietel,” he reminded, saying, “you don’t have to stay in the disguise on my account.”

Shaking his head, Wahisietel pointed out, “Mahjarrat are not very welcome in these parts. What if a neighbour happened to nose around my windows, hm? Besides, I’m rather comfortable in my Ali form.”

Soon afterwards, he set down a tray on the table containing two cups of herbal tea and a plate of cream-filled biscuits. Thanking him, Jahaan made for a tasty looking circular one.

“So,” Wahisietel took a sip from the boiling liquid. The word was more of a suggestion for input rather than an intent to begin a discussion of his choosing. Wahisietel knew Jahaan came here for a specific reason to get something off his mind. They didn’t call him ‘Ali the Wise’ for nothing.

Eventually, Jahaan spoke up. “Have you talked to Azzanadra?” he tried not to allow his wince to come through. The fact that Wahisietel hadn’t slammed the door in his face was a promising sign, but he still fretted internally.

Nodding gravely, Wahisietel danced around the matter with delicacy. “I did. He took… a while to calm down.”

“And you’re not mad at me because…?” Jahaan left the hole open for Wahisietel to enlighten him.

With a light chuckle, Wahisietel replied, “I am not as fervent with my beliefs as our beloved Pontifex; he took you disobeying Zaros’ wishes as a personal affront. I, on the other hand, am of sound mind. You’re entitled to whatever path you choose.”

Feeling relief wash over him like a tsunami, Jahaan relaxed back in his chair. “Well, at least that’s one Mahjarrat I haven’t pissed off lately.”

“Speaking of which,” Wahisietel leaned forward in his chair. “Azzanadra told me that Sliske was the one that dealt the killing blow, and that you were there to witness it. He didn’t try to kill you, however?”

“No. He tricked me into leading him straight to Guthix, betrayed me at the last second, then teleported away.”

“That sounds like Sliske.”

Jahaan bit his lip, putting his head in his hands with a frustrated sigh. It would be the perfect time to tell Wahisietel why he was really here, why he’d traveled halfway across the desert to drop in unannounced for more than lovely tea and polite conversation.

It was just… where to start? Without sounding crazy, that was.

“About Sliske…” Jahaan stretched out the creases in his neck, scratching at the back of his head and giving a long, drawn out sigh, delaying the inevitable as he did so. “Back at the Ritual Site, he said he’d been watching me for some time now. The fact that he fooled me by posing as an archeologist to get to Guthix… it got to me. I’ve been feeling rather paranoid ever since. There was… an incident…”

Wahisietel raised an eyebrow in curiosity, but Jahaan did not care to elaborate, instead saying, “I didn’t really take his words seriously before, but after Guthix’s death, and my role in it… I shouldn’t have brushed him off so lightly. I have no idea why he’s following me. I was hoping, as his brother-”

“Half-brother,” Wahisietel was quick to correct.

“Half-brother,” Jahaan emphasised. “I was hoping you’d have some insight as to why.”

Taking a long, thoughtful sip of his tea, Wahisietel decided it needed more sugar, and thus added another cube.

“Hmm,” he said as he enjoyed the sweet liquid, his brow well and truly furrowed. “I fear you may have misunderstood my relationship with my half-brother. Familial bonds have not tied us close. I do not know why he would have such a vested interest in you in particular. Had his speech about ‘watching you’ occurred after you became the World Guardian, then that I could understand - he would be interested in your power, your potential - but as it stands… I’m afraid I’m at a loss.”

Shoulders sagging, Jahaan slumped back in his chair, burying his head in his hands. “Terrific.”

“I’m sorry,” Wahisietel weekly apologised, a light chuckle teasing his lips. “I can tell you’re less than impressed with the wisdom I’ve been unable to impart.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jahaan forced himself to smile. “I just… I feel like he’s all around me, you know? It’s haunting.”

“Well, if he’s any consolation, he’s nowhere near Nardah now.”

Jahaan felt relief wash over him. “Really?”

“Really,” Wahisietel assured. “Enakhra and Akthanakos occasionally come near enough that I can feel their presence, but right now, no Mahjarrat are nearby.”

“Enakhra’s probably off fighting for Zamorak…”

It was an off the cuff remark, but boy, did that require some explaining, and another helping of tea and biscuits. Turns out that, while knowing that Saradomin had returned, and assuming that Zamorak was close behind, he didn’t realise they were engaged in conflict at this very second.

Both Jahaan and the Mahjarrat were thankful they were far, FAR away from Lumbridge right about now.

Once the conversation rounded back on track, Jahaan finally asked another one of the burning questions he’d originally come for, “I know the Mahjarrat can sense each other and all, but is there any way I can tell if Sliske’s around? I need something to help this paranoia.”

The look on Wahisietel’s face was not encouraging. “Not particularly. When shapeshifted into a human disguise, Mahjarrat can do everything you humans can, like eat, drink… everything we need to pass off as one of your kind. To your limited human senses, we radiate no magic, either.”

Just as Jahaan was about to give up hope, Wahisietel piped up, “There is one thing… Jahaan, humour me, and touch the space between your eyes.”

Crinkling his brow, it wasn’t until Wahisietel insisted further that Jahaan did as he was told, feeling silly as he did so.

“What do you notice?” Wahisietel inquired, rhetoricism obvious in his tone.

“Uhh… nothing?”

“Exactly. Now, touch the same spot between my eyes.”

Wahisietel leaned forward, and instinctively, Jahaan leaned backwards. After Wahisietel repeated the request, Jahaan just about forced his hand to cooperate, feeling very awkward as he did so. As soon as he made contact, he pulled his hand back with a gasp.

It was near boiling to the touch. “Whoa.”

Placing two fingers between his eyes, Wahisietel explained, “This is where the Mahjarrat’s crystal is embedded in our foreheads. No matter what disguise we undertake, if the skin at this area is thin enough - which, on a human form, it is - you will be able to feel the heat from the crystal.

Granted, the idea of touching everyone he suspected of being a Mahjarrat on the forehead didn’t exactly feel Jahaan with glee, it was certainly better than nothing. “Thanks, Wahisietel. I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Wahisietel quickly shot up from his chair and hurried over to one of his many bookshelves. “After our last meeting, I set something aside for you, something that might give you an unbiased, third party perspective on my half-brother,” after half a minute’s searching, he pulled out a thin blue-spined book. Blowing dust from the cover, he handed it carefully over to Jahaan, who took it very delicately, aware of how torn and damaged both the spine and cover were.

“How old is this book?” Jahaan couldn’t even make out the writing on the front, it was so faded.

“It’s an original, from the Second Age,” Wahisietel replied.

Aware of the fragility and, with this new information, rarity and subsequent value of the book, Jahaan held it like a newborn, very gently opening it up to the first page. When he did, his eyes began to hurt as they tried to register the symbols on the page. Squinting, he began to say, “Um, Wahisietel…”

Smiling softly, Wahisietel replied, “It is written in the ancient Menaphosi script. I did not think you would be versed in such an outdated language, so I translated the relevant sections of the book. Go to the marked page.”

Seeing the tip of a feather jutting from near the middle of the book, Jahaan turned to it, relieved to see pieces of papyrus tucked inside, all written in the Common Tongue. Removing them, he gently handed the book back to Wahisietel and shuffled the pages into order.

Blinking, he read aloud, “The Book of Sliske?”

Nodding with a disappointed grimace, Wahisietel said, “It’s written by a mercenary of Icthlarin’s called Gram Kobold, who later became a prominent commander in his armies. There are many accounts of the Mahjarrat’s arrival on Gielinor, but his focused almost obsessively on my half-brother. I thought it might be of some interest to you.”

Tucking the papyrus away in his pocket, Jahaan replied, “Thanks, Wahisietel. I owe you one.”

“You owe me nothing,” Wahisietel assured. “After your assistance in dispatching Lucien, it is the least I could do.”

After leaving Wahisietel’s humble abode, he made for the nearest inn, wanting to take residence there for the night. While he definitely did not want to put Wahisietel out by asking for a lodging, Jahaan was in no hurry to leave Nardah; the presence of Wahisietel provided a sense of comfort that Jahaan had been lacking these last few days. He felt impervious to Sliske’s stalking here, knowing that his half-brother could sense his presence and make it known.

So after getting a hearty dinner out of the innkeeper and finding a decent enough room to slumber in, Jahaan took to said room and settled down for an early night.

But before he allowed the pull of tiredness to drag him into the realm of sleep, Jahaan pulled out the translation Wahisietel had given him, lit a dim candle, and began to read…

The Zarosians spilled over our front lines, mixing dust with blood. Their fervour for battle was insatiable. We were ordered to retreat at first light, but we knew we wouldn't make it to dawn. We needed the Kharidian gods to grace the battlefield now; morale was low and the last embers of their civilisation were flickering out. I weighed my coin-bag and wondered if it was time to abandon the life of a mercenary, to steal a ship and leave.

Then, we were blinded momentarily by a burning light, and the ground began to rumble. A wind came rolling across the plains like a tidal wave, drowning out the cries of war. The light spread like a flame burning through parchment, opening a tear in the very fabric of the world. From that yawning rift a small army marched forth, the ground quaking beneath their feet. A figure held the portal open, the head of a jackal atop its shoulders. Icthlarin had returned, and he had brought reinforcements.

It was a turning point in the Kharidian-Zarosian war. Icthlarin's warriors crashed into the Zarosian forces. Their commanders were terrifying to behold - mighty sorcerers, whose name sounded foreign to our ears. The army gave them a new name: the 'Stern Judges'. They towered over us by some feet, clad in robes, with a ridge on their foreheads. One in particular made an impression on me, his laugh echoing in my ears and his rictus grin etched into my memory. His name was Sliske, and he appeared and disappeared at will. He was feared by the soldiers and distrusted by his own kind. I felt a kinship with him, despite being awed by his power. Far away, I could make out the Kharidian gods thundering through the enemy, with the Stern Judges at their backs. But Sliske had a different goal, and he moved in other directions. He moved silently; I was barely able to keep track of him as he shifted between shadows. I gave chase, plunging my sword into hapless soldiers in my path.

As I struggled to keep pace with Sliske, I became lost in darkness, the only illumination coming from torches. I fought onwards, and Sliske materialised in a group of enemies. He did not seem to favour his blade; instead, he placed a hand on their armour, and both he and the enemy disappeared. Moments later, Sliske would return, but his opponent would be gone.

Suddenly, I was struck and knocked to the ground, and found myself on my back with a blade at my throat, staring into the wild eyes of a Zarosian scout. Fear washed over me as I heard steel slicing through flesh… but I felt nothing, save a warm trickle of blood on my chest. The body was tossed aside like a doll, and his face peered down at me instead. I shall never forget that grin - like a skull, covered in a veneer of ridged, grey flesh. My eyes locked with Sliske's as he put his finger to his lips. He smiled, and was gone.

In the months that followed, Icthlarin led the charge northwards across the River Elid. I watched in awe as the Stern Judges overpowered their foes. Despite my fascination with Sliske, I found him nigh-impossible to track; one minute I would be watching from afar, the next he would vanish. He built an entourage of spectral wights, shimmering with blacks and purples, converting some of the foes he felled into warriors of his own, undead spirits that returned to serve him.

We finally reached the mountains, and the forces of Zaros made their stand in a narrow pass. Despite their tactical advantage, we were victorious that day. The dust settled and the blood on our swords boiled in the sun. With the majority of the Kharidian Lands reclaimed, Icthlarin demanded that Sliske release his wights to him, so he could guide them to the Underworld. When Sliske refused, Icthlarin took them by force. With a swipe of his hand, Icthlarin obliterated their own ranks. Sliske simply narrowed his eyes and smiled. With a gesture he was gone, and the two never counted one another as a friend from that day.

It was the last I saw of Sliske.

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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