#the way he says drunkenly 'so- is it hands then?' on saturday kitchen is burned into my brain nd makes me laugh everytime i think ab it

[hornedavies]

tim key mark watson and alex horne are out there creating speech patterns even gods not heard of. and i love them so so much

[c-e-d-dreamer]

If you don't write a part 3 of the come and get me nessian fic, I'm going to scream! I need it! Please!

What's that? You want sad Cassian's POV? You heckin' bet! 😇 Also, if you want this to hurt extra good, you can listen to See You Later by Jenna Raine which is what I listened to while crying writing this. Enjoy! TW: implied SA

Part One // Part Two

To say that Cassian was having a hard week feels like an immense understatement. Every day is somehow harder than the last. From the moment he opens his eyes, he feels the weight of the ache through his whole body. It engraves itself into his bones in rough, deep lines, and leaves his chest gaping in a way that he’s sure is going to fester. His fingers constantly itch to grab his phone, and sometimes that deep ingrained desire wins out. His thumb will hover over the contact or he’ll open their last text conversation, the one before everything went to shit. It always ends the same, though: with him throwing his phone.

Growing up, it was almost a running joke, that Cassian couldn’t handle silences, that he always had to fill the lulls and empty spaces with loud laughs or remarks. Considering the current silence, maybe they were on to something. Because it presses in on all sides, squeezing until his ears ring and his throat burns with the urge to scream. He tries to keep himself busy, but judging by the concerned look Azriel gives him when he takes to a punching bag at the gym hard enough that his knuckles split, it’s not exactly doing wonders.

By the time Saturday rolls around, his brothers have had enough, and they drag Cassian to a party with the promise that alcohol and being surrounded by sorority girls will somehow help. It takes less than an hour in for Rhys and Azriel to disappear amongst the crowd, and Cassian finds himself tucked into a corner, still sipping on his first beer. It just tastes stale on his tongue. He’s watching the students around him, a sea of writhing bodies that laugh and drunkenly shout above the music, when he spots a familiar head of red hair trying to weave through the dancing masses, leaving Cassian’s reeling at the implication.

“Gwyn?” Cassian asks when she’s close enough. Sure enough, wide, teal eyes snap to his. “Is Nesta here?”

“Gwyn, what are you doing? We’re mad at him, remember?”

“What?” Cassian stutters out, turning his attention to Emerie who’s sidled up beside Gwyn. “Is Nesta here?”

“What do you care?” Emerie snaps.

Cassian knows that he should probably be offended by the snide remark, by the derisive tone of Emerie’s voice. But all Cassian can think about is last weekend. Of bruised skin. Of Nesta curled up small on a curb. Of the quiet shake to her voice as she asked him to stay.

“Is she or not?” Cassian bites out.

“Yes,” Emerie finally relents. “She was being extra mopey, so we dragged her out to get her mind off you.”

Cassian pointedly ignores the way she sneers ‘you,’ pushing away from the corner and making his way through the house party’s crowd. His eyes dart around for Nesta, squinting through the dimmed lights and drunken haze that seems to roll off the partygoers. It doesn’t take long for him to spot her. It never seems to. He’s always had a knack for knowing exactly where in a room Nesta was, their eyes forever on a collision course to catch the other. Even in this crowded house, Nesta’s eyes snap to him.

She’s pressed back against one of the cabinets in the kitchen, some dude standing in front of her. The tense set of Nesta’s shoulders and the way her lips are pressed into a thin line has Cassian picking up his pace, not even bothering to apologize to the person he bumps shoulders with, liquid splashing at their feet.

“I said I’m not interested,” Cassian hears Nesta say as he gets closer.

“But we had such a good time the other—”

Cassian is pulling the guy back hard by his shirt before he can even finish his sneer. He settles himself between the guy and Nesta within a second, his hands folding into fists as he stares the guy down. He wonders if he’ll be able to hear the crunch of breaking this fucker’s nose over the heavy bass of the music blaring through the whole house.

“What the fuck, man?” the guy splutters.

“I should be asking you that,” Cassian seethes.

“Do we have a problem?”

“We’re about to.”

“Cassian,” Nesta cuts in, her hands settling on Cassian’s arm and tugging gently. Cassian’s eyes snap down at the contact, at the grounding warmth they leave branded against his skin.

“Get lost,” Cassian snaps at the guy.

Luckily, the guy has enough semblance of self preservation to listen, disappearing further into the house. Once he’s gone, Nesta is stepping out around Cassian, pushing her own way through the crowds. Cassian follows after her, calling her name, but she ignores him, plowing forward toward the front of the house.

“Nesta, where are you going?” Cassian asks once they reach the foyer.

“Home,” Nesta answers simply, yanking open the front door.

Cassian sighs, but he follows her out, pulling the door shut behind him. “I have my truck here. I’ll give you a ride.”

“Fine.”

He had parked a few blocks down, so they start walking in that direction, that heavy silence back in full force as it settles around them like a suffocating blanket.

“I hate this,” Nesta whispers.

“Hate what?”

Nesta stops walking then, so Cassian does the same, turning to face her. Under the yellow glow of the street lamps, he can see the dark circles that have settled under her eyes. The pink torn up nature of her lips that he knows are caused by the way she always chews at them when she’s anxious. A breeze ruffles the stray strands of her hair, and even with her eyes looking more grey and dull than he’s seen them in years, she’s still the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. It leaves his heart stuttering in a painful icy grip in his chest, and he has to look away.

“I hate this distance between us,” Nesta explains. “I hate not talking to you every day.”

“What would you have me do, Nesta?” Cassian asks exasperatedly. How many times are they going to play this game, go round and round in this same conversation?

“I just want us to go back to before, I want my best friend back.”

“I can’t just pretend. Gods, it kills me every time I even look at you.”

Nesta steps forward then, right into his space. This close he can smell the jasmine scent of her shampoo, can feel her welcoming warmth trying to press up against him. Her hands curl around his wrists, grip tight like he’s the only thing keeping her here, the only thing holding her steady.

“Please,” Nesta pleads. “Cassian, please.”

Cassian’s not even sure what she’s begging for at this point, but she looks up, wide, water lined eyes boring into Cassian’s own. Cassian swallows hard and leans forward, brushing his lips against Nesta’s forehead. She closes her eyes at the contact, the tears finally slipping free of her eyes and down her cheeks. Cassian can’t stand the sight of it.

“I’ll take you home,” Cassian whispers, stepping back and away from Nesta.

There’s a moment where Nesta just stands there and stares at Cassian, the cool night air suddenly feeling like an expansive ocean between them. But then she’s nodding and following him to his truck. When they pull up at Nesta’s apartment complex, Cassian doesn’t go in this time. Once he’s sure Nesta has safely stepped through the door, he throws the truck out of park, and he drives and drives and drives.

[ecoamerica]

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[artificialqueens]

Me and You Together, 3/10 (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: again, fucking bowled over by the love and support this has had so far. i cannot thank any of u enough, ur all absolute wee diamonds in the sky. hope u enjoy this one- we’re in January for this one, where the girls have to deal with the consequences of December…and Tayce is tasked with keeping a secret for Lawrence.

last chapter: September- On a damp, bright Saturday in September, six flatmates move into their student flat and meet for the first time.

this chapter: January- Tayce and A’whora still have unfinished business from a night out and a hungover morning in December. But it’s only awkward if they make it awkward…right?

***

Tayce is pretty sure she’s going to combust if something doesn’t happen soon.

It’s been a month and a week since A’whora kissed her, and twenty-four hours shorter than that since Tayce kissed her in return. Or thereabouts, it’s not like she’s counting. It’s not like it’s been consuming her every thought every waking moment of the day or anything.

In all fairness, Tayce seems like it’s an achievement to think about a kiss for that length of time. Especially through her first semester essay deadlines, Ellie’s raucous eighteenth, her first Christmas back home, her first New Year seeing all her old school friends after uni and updating Cheryl and Cara on everything. She’d drunkenly come out to Cheryl too after being gently encouraged and supported by Cara, and they’d both cried as Cheryl held her and confessed that since uni had started she’d also begun seeing a girl she really liked too.

It’s funny how at uni everybody seems so much more free. Away from a stifling hometown, Tayce and her friends can properly spread their wings and be who they’ve always been but have either not realised it or been afraid to show it. Tayce is the happiest she’s ever been when she’s at the flat with the others in her little bubble of a home away from home, with Bimini’s intelligent insights and Tia’s funny quips, Lawrence’s chaos and Ellie’s kindness and A’whora being…well, her best friend.

Except she’s not really sure that best friends kiss each other like that.

But maybe they do, because since they’ve all come back from home after Christmas A’whora hasn’t mentioned the kisses, as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened between them. Hasn’t even joked about it with her or in front of the others (which is fair enough, as if Lawrence knew she’d probably tease them about it until they graduated). Tayce is pretty sure that none of the others even know, or at least if they do they’ve not spoken about it.

And the worst part is that A’whora has been absolutely…normal. Fine.

See, Tayce could’ve dealt with any awkwardness- she’d be upfront, bluntly ask A’whora if she wants to forget about it or what she wants the plan for them to be. Even better would’ve been if A’whora had rugby-tackled her the moment she’d got back from Wales and smothered her with kisses, told her how much she’d been thinking about her while they’d both been away. Tayce supposes it’s kind of her fault they never properly talked about it since she’d practically bolted out of A’whora’s room when she’d kissed her that morning, but she’d been nervous in case she’d made everything too weird. A’whora hadn’t seemed to be complaining at the time, though.

In fact that night, A’whora had been up for plenty more than just a drunk kiss. If Tayce thinks about everything she’d said when they were walking home her face still gets hot and she has to squeeze her thighs together. She’s definitely glad they never crossed any of those particular lines when they’d both been drinking, but sometimes when she’s lying in bed at night Tayce lets her hands drift between her legs as she thinks about A’whora telling her how much and for how long she’d wanted her.

Best friends definitely don’t do that.

So Tayce feels guilty spending time with just A’whora these days, the fact that things haven’t been awkward between them somehow being worse than if they were. She’s not been avoiding her per sé, she’s just been finding ways to make sure it’s very rarely the two of them alone together: hanging out in the kitchen with everyone instead of in her room, going to bed when the others do instead of staying up with A’whora, inviting the others to anything A’whora suggests the two of them do together. It’s silly, and Tayce does miss spending time alone with her, but A’whora acting like nothing’s happened while conversely Tayce wants everything to happen hurts her embarrassingly more than she’d care to admit.

Such a time is a lazy Sunday afternoon halfway through the shittiest month of the year, when the weather outside is full of misty rain that’s a recipe for frizzy hair, puddles, and misery. Just to add to the rubbish day Tayce is holed up in her room, watching the grey clouds drift and overlap over each other to create a paint colour chart in the sky as she begins an essay that’s due in a mere five days. It’s been hard to focus on anything when her head is full of her best friend and imaginary scenarios but the prospect of an all-nighter isn’t one that’s particularly desirable either, so she and the ninety-five words she’s written so far are engaged in a stand-off as Tayce waits for the essay to write itself and the word document waits for her brain cells to conjure up any more opinions on “Is art a conveyor of emotion?” (4000 words).  

And then there’s a knock on the door that doesn’t wait for permission to enter and A’whora bounces in. She’s in a pair of grey joggers and a baggy navy pyjama top that she’s tucked in at the waist and rolled up the sleeves of, and her hair is up in a bun that’s had approximately 5% effort put into it apart from the little diamante hair clasp she’s slid through it at the top.

In spite of herself, Tayce can’t help but snort when she sees her. “Only you could make your shitty potato loungewear fashion.”

“Shut up! This is haute couture. This is actually my final project for the semester,” A’whora jokes in return, moves to sit at the foot of her bed and pout at her. “Tayyyce. I’m boreddd.”

Tayce raises an eyebrow at A’whora’s whining from over her laptop screen. “And I’m doing this essay. Find someone else to bug.”

“Don’t be such a hound,” A’whora frowns, falling sideways and landing onto the bed so she’s hugging Tayce’s legs through the duvet, her head resting on her shins. “I’d annoy Ellie but she’s in town with one of her friends from home. C’mon, let’s do a movie day. We’ve not had one in ages. I feel like we’ve barely had any time together since you got back.”

“Just been trying to catch up on all my coursework. It’s not personal,” she lies, her heart sinking only the tiniest bit at the realisation that her attempts at staying out of A’whora’s way have obviously been louder than they’ve been subtle.

“Please?” A’whora bats her lashes, and if it was impossible to say no to her before it’s surely illegal to do so now.

Tayce sighs and closes her laptop, eliciting a smile from the other girl. “Fine. Fine! But you better ask the others, I don’t want them feeling left out.”

It’s a good spur-of-the-moment excuse to make sure Tayce doesn’t have to spend two hours cuddled up next to A’whora while her heart hurts, but she’s confused by the way a small look of something passes over A’whora’s expression. She can’t put her finger on what it is, but A’whora’s agreeing and bounding down to the living room before Tayce can figure it out.

Tayce throws on her dressing gown over her clothes before leaving her room to join her, the blue fluffy one with the narwhal hood that’s complete with a horn on the top. She doesn’t own many embarrassing items of clothing, but this is definitely one of them. It doesn’t matter too much, though. A’whora’s seen her in it before, when she’s been hungover or sad or hangry and on her period.

It’s so funny how she can only have known her five months and still feel closer to her than half of the friends she spent six years with at high school.

In the kitchen, A’whora’s already cheerfully getting organised as Bimini and Lawrence lounge on the sofa lazily. Tia’s not in either- it emerges she’s gone round to Veronica’s, which nobody’s surprised about.

“Main question is, what’re we watching?” Bimini asks. “It’s a lazy Sunday so it can’t be anything that’s too good. I want something I can rip the piss out of while I watch it, y’know?”

There’s some squabbling about film choices as A’whora makes popcorn in the microwave, burns it, then subsequently has to make another packet. It’s eventually decided that they’re going to watch Love Actually despite the fact it’s January, because they all either hate it or like it because of how bad it is and the film will simply be a vehicle for them to yell jokes over.

“Have we got anything to drink? We could make this into like…a day drinking situation,” Lawrence suggests casually.

“You’re not helping the stereotype that all Scottish people are alcoholics at all,” A’whora quips, causing Tayce to let out a too-loud laugh.

“Listen, if you’ve not figured out that I’m a walking talking stereotype by now, A’whora, are we even friends?” Lawrence shoots back, and A’whora shrugs in an unspoken fair enough.

Tayce tilts her head then remembers something. “I actually still have loads of canned cocktails in my suitcase that my Mum got me for Christmas. Haven’t unpacked them yet. Think there’s about…twelve?”

“Ooh, three each? That’s alright!” Bimini smiles, clearly buoyed by the prospect of being slightly tipsy in the middle of the afternoon.

“Right, that’s settled then. I’ll go get them,” Tayce decides. A’whora’s crossing the kitchen before she knows it.

“I’ll help you with them.”

Before Tayce can speak, Bimini gives a snort. “ ‘Ow much do you think canned cocktails weigh, exactly?”

As Lawrence bursts into peals of laughter, Tayce watches as A’whora rolls her eyes at them, then turns on her heel to follow her to her room. Tayce can’t help but be a little wary, though. It does kind of seem like A’whora’s trying to get her on her own, which Tayce wouldn’t mind if she knew where she was coming from. But she doesn’t.

Tayce kneels down onto the floor as she rolls her suitcase out from under the bed, chatting mindlessly as she does so because if she’s talking it means A’whora doesn’t have a chance to bring up whatever she clearly wants to bring up. “I think there’s actually eleven here, you know. Because, uh…I think I drank one of them while I was at home, so we’re gonna need to fight over who gets one less. I don’t fancy my chances in a fight against Lawrence, she’d probably give me…what’s that expression? A Glasgow kiss? She’d give me one of those. Although Bimini, what do you think they’d be like in a fight? You know I think they’ve secretly got a set of knuckledusters, they seem the type. Although when I think about it-”

“Tayce,” A’whora cuts in, forcing her to snap her head up. Her expression is troubled, and a little frown dips on her forehead as she looks at her. “What’s wrong? Why are you being so…I don’t know, weird? Like you want to get rid of me?”

Tayce feels ashamed for being called out on her behaviour, and she can feel her stomach drop as she looks back at the cans in her otherwise empty suitcase. She wants to tell her there’s a reason for the way she’s been acting but A’whora beats her to the punch, murmuring with her head down and not meeting Tayce’s eyes.

“Is this because we kissed?”

“A’whora…” Tayce immediately groans in exasperation, the heat rushing to her cheeks as if she’s been slapped. She’s embarrassed, because she knows she’s got the capacity to talk about this like a grown-up but there’s a part of her that’s cringing, because if A’whora’s about to tell her she regrets it then she’s not sure she’ll ever live it down.

There’s a small silence where neither of them seem to move, let alone speak. A’whora is yet again the one to break it. “I just feel like you hate me all of a sudden.”

Fuck. If there was one thing Tayce had wanted to avoid, it’s this. Even though she herself is hurting she can’t bear the thought of having hurt A’whora’s feelings too, so she frowns, reaches up and squeezes A’whora’s hand which prompts her to look at Tayce. “I don’t hate you, Rory, of course I don’t hate you. I just…”

Tayce looks up to the ceiling as she searches for the right words, even though she’s not really sure what they are. She wants to tell A’whora she’s yearning for something to happen again between them and that even the fact she’s holding her hand is setting her pulse off all too quickly, but now’s not the right time. Besides, she doesn’t even know if A’whora feels the same way. Either way, Tayce can hear A’whora holding her breath, can feel the way her body’s tense beside her, so Tayce finally formulates something that doesn’t sound too hot or too cold.

“…I just don’t know where we go from here, that’s all.”

A’whora visibly relaxes, then shrugs. Her voice is quiet as she speaks. “Well, it’s only awkward if we make it awkward. And I feel like I’ve been okay at not making it awkward?”

Tayce narrows her eyes at her, laughs. “So what you’re saying is it’s all my fault.”

“Yes.”

The pair of the giggle softly and things already seem to have shifted back into comfortable territory. The green of a spring bulb popping up through the snow.

Tayce swallows her not-inconsiderable pride and smiles up at A’whora. She supposes going back to being friends and not ever talking about the fact that they kissed again is better than existing in a tense purgatory for the rest of their time in the flat together, even if it does make her feel a little sinking feeling of disappointment and a sense of mourning what could’ve been. “I’m sorry for being such a…mingebag.”

A’whora cracks up, repeats “mingebag!” incredulously, before her laughter dies down and she gives Tayce’s hand a squeeze in return. “That’s okay. Just good to know you still like me.”

They share a soft smile before piling the cocktails high in their arms, cradling them as if they’re babies as they rush back through to the living room where Bimini and Lawrence are hanging up a huge white sheet on the wall opposite the sofa for the projector. The projector had been Tia’s addition to the flat, an AliExpress purchase that had turned out to not be broken, or unusable, or made for a doll’s house.

“Tia won’t mind us borrowing that, will she?” A’whora asks with concern. Lawrence scoffs, bats a hand in her direction dismissively.

“She’ll be too mouth-deep in Veronica to care when she realises we’ve used it, let’s not lie!”

There’s a cry of disgust at Lawrence’s turn of phrase from the others, and as Tayce sets up the cocktails on the little coffee table A’whora brings the bowl of popcorn through.

“It’s fun to be able to make jokes about Tia and her girl, in’t it?” Bimini chuckles good-naturedly. “Always feel like we can’t properly tease her when Ellie’s there ‘cause she always looks like she’s about to jump out the window any time we mention Veronica’s name.”

The revelation that Ellie has feelings for Tia had come via a drunken, tearful confession to the others the night of her eighteenth birthday, when Tia had left the party with Veronica instead of staying overnight at the flat. Poor Ellie had been so devastatingly upset that the others had seemed to forge an unspoken agreement that the situation wasn’t going to be fodder for flat jokes. Instead they make sure to ask Tia how her budding relationship is going when Ellie isn’t around.

As she and A’whora laugh in agreement at Bimini’s joke, Tayce doesn’t miss the way Lawrence grows uncharacteristically quiet.

“When d’you think Ellie will get over Tia? I mean it’s a shame she doesn’t like her back, but she’ll ‘ave to at some point.”

“She won’t. She’ll just pine after her every day until we graduate,” Lawrence says. It’s meant to be a joke but her delivery is somewhat flat, and Tayce wonders if she’s the only one that picks up on it. From the way A’whora and Bimini are laughing, it appears she has been.  

Bimini and Lawrence step back from the sheet, satisfied with the job they’ve done. A’whora’s busy plugging in the fairy lights Ellie strung up where the wall meets the ceiling a few months ago, and Tayce can’t help but think to herself that sacking off her essay was a good idea as she glances at their setup. Never let it be said that their flat does things by halves.

“Oh! We should bring duvets through. And blankets,” A’whora suggests, and Tayce’s heart is both warmed and hurt by how adorably enthusiastic she is about the whole endeavour. She wishes she could shake the lingering feeling of disappointment she’s got in her gut at the knowledge that they’ll probably never talk about their kiss again; they’ve moved on from it, it was a one-time thing, and it’s only awkward if they make it awkward so Tayce bringing it up would be awkward, right?

So she settles on the sofa with Lawrence while Bimini helps A’whora gather up all their pillows, cushions, blankets and duvets from their respective rooms. Tayce is about to become lost in her own head when Lawrence turns to her with a look in her eyes that Tayce has never seen before. It’s almost conspiratorial and definitely suspicious, and for one horrific moment Tayce is convinced that Lawrence knows everything that happened in December.

“What is it?” Tayce asks her, before her flatmate can even open her mouth. Lawrence sighs, tips her head back to the head of the sofa and squeezes her eyes shut.

“I need to tell you a secret.”

Tayce’s heart drops as if she’s on a rollercoaster. Her mind immediately jumps to A’whora. What’s she told her? What does Lawrence know? It would make sense to wait until A’whora was out of the room before telling her anything. Tayce tries to keep her face impassive as she turns to Lawrence, nods quietly. “Okay, spill.”

“You can’t tell anyone, Tayce,” Lawrence insists, looking at her pleadingly. Tayce promises she won’t, although in retrospect she probably should’ve asked what it was first. The way Lawrence is acting is intriguing, though. It makes Tayce think it’s something about herself if it’s something she doesn’t want the others to know so badly.

“Christ, this is so cringe,” Lawrence groans, dropping her head forward and resting it in her hands. Tayce can still see the pink flush that’s started to dust her face, and by now she’s convinced that this has nothing to do with A’whora and everything to do with Lawrence herself.

Lawrence mutters out something incoherent into her hands. Tayce frowns, humoured. “What?”

A huge huff comes from the girl on the sofa beside her, and as she removes her hands from the front of her face she sticks them to the side of it like blinkers on a horse. It’s the quietest Tayce has ever heard Lawrence speak as she says the secret again. “I’ve got a crush on Ellie.”

Tayce’s face lights up at her friend’s confession. “Do you actually?”

“Christ, don’t make me say it twice. I’ll get struck down.”

Tayce leans into Lawrence, uses both her hands to lightly poke her in the arm. “Look at you! Being cute and having feelings!”

“It’s not, though! It’s not cute at all! It’s just sad!” Lawrence rolls her eyes, shaking her head at the same time. “Because she doesn’t…she’ll never see me like that, and she’s too busy making cow-eyes at Tia all the time anyway, so. It’s pointless, I don’t even know why I’m even hoping for something to happen.”

“Hey, listen! How long do you think Ellie’s gonna be able to keep moaning about Tia when she’s still seeing Veronica? I mean there’s only one way that relationship is going, the only ‘end’ there is in ‘girlfriend’. So Ellie’s gonna have to get over it eventually!” Tayce says supportively, shaking Lawrence’s arm to gee her up. Lawrence bats her away, though, giving another sigh.

“Tayce, it’s not exactly like she’s gonnae suddenly realise that I’ve been here all along! Like some fuckin’ chick flick. I’ve fancied her for years,” Lawrence explains. The information knocks Tayce for six, but when she thinks about it it makes sense- the way Lawrence gently bullies her so much, the way she gravitates towards her all the time, the way she gets quiet if Ellie starts moping about Tia. Tayce had never thought about it in that light before.

Lawrence hugs her knees to her chest as she continues. “Realised I liked her the last time we were at the caravan. And obviously we were at opposite sides of the country but like…I’d still meet up with her in Summer, get the train to Dundee and have sleepovers and all that shite. And when she came into the kitchen on that first day I was so happy she was gonnae be living with us, and I am still happy, because obviously she’s my friend? But like…it’s just shite to know that she’ll never like me back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Ellie’s type is obviously tall, dark and skinny. Which…” Lawrence gestures at herself with a deprecative laugh. “…how can I be any of that?”

“Right, for a start! Stop thinking about what you’re not and start thinking about what you are,” Tayce says firmly, gripping her hand tightly.

Lawrence rolls her eyes and fixes her with a pointed stare. “Oh, like what? I’m beautiful on the inside! I know I’m the fat funny friend, Tayce, you can spare me the bullshit.”

“Well…you’re fat, and so fucking what of it? Doesn’t mean you aren’t drop-dead-fuckin’ gorgeous. Being fat and being beautiful aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“Very easy for you to say, sat there wearing size eights. Tell that to literally any piece of media we consume. Or any of my brain cells. Even if there are only about ten of them,” Lawrence sighs, then pauses. “I do like the way I look, and I don’t want to change anything about myself. It’s just…several things make that very hard almost all of the time, and it’s tiring to feel like you’re constantly fighting a losing battle. And it’s not like I’m pinning all my self-worth on a girl liking me back, but just…it would be nice to be the one that someone has a crush on for a change, if that makes sense?”

Before Tayce can say anything to affirm how Lawrence is feeling, a movement from down the hall makes her flinch and point at Tayce accusingly. “Not a fucking word, right? Least of all to A’whora, if she knows then I might as well just tell Ellie myself and like fuck is that happening.”

Tayce nods rapidly in a promise as A’whora and Bimini emerge from the hall comedically draped in materials, like a child’s attempt at a dress made out of knitting and featherdown quilts. They all set about arranging everything to make their setup as comfy as possible, and as the film gets loaded up they get comfortable in their respective positions. Lawrence is at one end of the sofa, with Tayce in the middle and A’whora at her side, while Bimini sits on the floor with their back to the sofa because they’re quite happy sitting there with enough cushions and pillows. The big lights are turned off, the film begins, and the room is filled with the soft glow of the fairy lights and the hazy light from the movie and all Tayce can think about is A’whora, warm and soft and squashed up beside her sharing the blanket.  

Tayce feels silly for being so disappointed. This was what she’d wanted- they’d talked about it. They’d addressed the fact that the kiss had happened, and now they were just…moving forward. Not making things awkward. Because obviously to A’whora, the fact it’s happened has made things awkward.

And that shouldn’t hurt Tayce as much as it does.

It’s hard to dwell on things for long, though, when she has block four flat ten’s very own Ant and Dec in her living room. Lawrence and Bimini keep her and A’whora giggling pretty much from the film’s first scene, and they all fall about screech-laughing when Bimini forces them to pause it on a shot of Liam Neeson’s hall in which there’s a horrific blob of a child’s painting on the wall that looks so cursed they just had to point it out.

It’s probably because Lawrence and Bimini are distracting her that Tayce doesn’t initially notice A’whora leaning into her at first until she’s pressed up against Tayce’s side. This isn’t anything out of the ordinary. They’ve always sat close before, but this time things feel different. This time it feels as if there’s little sparks of electricity between them, metaphorical manifestations of the anticipation Tayce feels of something she’s yearning to happen.    

So when A’whora bumps her knuckles against Tayce’s, brings her hand over hers and laces their fingers together, Tayce feels as if she’s suddenly evolved into some ridiculous cartoon character; she can practically feel her eyes bulge out of their sockets in shock and she has to stop her jaw from dropping onto the floor. If her heart could comedically fly out of its chest it would. Tayce keeps her gaze steady and focused on the film, blocking out her peripheral vision and not even turning to see if A’whora’s looking at her too. Because if she is it would make everything ten times worse (better?) than it currently is, and Tayce’s head is already in a spin. They’ve held hands before. It’s not like this is different.

But it is. Before they hadn’t kissed. Before A’whora hadn’t told Tayce she wanted to sleep with her. Before all of Tayce’s feelings for her friend were cooped up into neat little boxes in her mind that were so full they were close to bursting, but now they have and now it’s After and so holding A’whora’s hand has gone from usual to extraordinary, routine to electric.  

Tayce hopes A’whora can’t feel the way her pulse is racing because that’ll definitely let her know something is up.

She’s suddenly startled out of her overthinking by a tut of disapproval from Lawrence. “How many fuckin’ couples are in this film and there’s not one single lesbian?”  

“Lesbians didn’t exist in 2003, remember?” Bimini deadpans, causing A’whora to giggle.

“Yeah, lesbians were invented in 2013 when Orange is the New Black aired.”

“Nah! When did Sugar Rush come out? Mind that programme on Channel 4? I remember watching that through a crack in the living room door when my parents thought I’d gone to bed,” Lawrence recounds excitedly, her enthusiasm at remembering her lesbian awakening making Tayce laugh and relate at the same time.

“For me it was Sophie and Sian. Remember on Coronation Street? They were my first lesbians.”

“At least you all got representation at some stage. If I wanted to see another pan I’d have to watch fuckin’…Kitchen Nightmares,” Bimini rolls their eyes, their joke making the girls howl with laughter and let out cries of consolation.

And then A’whora squeezes Tayce’s hand under the blanket.

Tayce thinks only for a second before squeezing it back, and subsequently doesn’t think before turning and looking at her friend beside her. A’whora shoots her a little smile that if Tayce didn’t know better she’d say was innocent, but the twinkle in her eye and the way she shuffles herself to lean closer against her and tuck her other hand into the crook of Tayce’s elbow makes her heart give a judder like she’s been crashed into from behind.

She supposes it’s only awkward if she makes things awkward, just like A’whora said. So when Tayce gently strokes A’whora’s hand with her thumb, it’s only to illustrate to A’whora that things aren’t weird between them. It’s not to see how the other girl is going to react to that at all. It’s not because being affectionate with A’whora just feels correct and perfect, the easiest thing in the world.

Tayce is holding her breath waiting for A’whora to do something else. Something to raise her hopes, something to show her that maybe she does want something to happen between them again. She wants the film to go on forever and give them infinite time in this no-man’s-land of comfortable tension, because when it ends she knows A’whora will probably just get up from under the blanket and slip away as if everything is back to normal.

When A’whora lets go of her hand, Tayce feels her hopes drop into the pit of her stomach, a rollercoaster coming to a dead stop. The ride is over.

But a second later she wraps her arm around Tayce’s waist, squeezes her close in a hug, and the ride begins all over again. Tayce’s heart rate spikes as she shifts a little, getting comfortable before bringing her arm around A’whora’s middle too and holding her right back.

It’s then that Lawrence’s voice makes Tayce snap her head away from the film, her glazed-over eyes having to focus on her friend who’s regarding her with a raised eyebrow. “Fuck’s going on under that blanket? You two fingering each other?”  

Bimini snaps their head up and yells as Tayce tries to conceal the wave of panic that hits her, rolls her eyes and shakes her head and tells Lawrence that she needs to get her mind out the gutter. She’s sure that being called out will make A’whora flinch away, a woodland animal startled by a twig breaking, but she just giggles and buries her face into Tayce’s side all bashful.

God, Tayce wants to kiss her so much.

The film reaches the scene where Emma Thompson cries in her bedroom to Joni Mitchell, and the sniffing from the floor indicates she’s not the only one.

“Bimini! You said you hated this film!” Tayce laughs, nudging her friend with her foot.

“Yeah, but anyone who doesn’t cry at this scene is a hard-hearted bastard,” they reply, voice thick with emotion.

“Aww, BonBon. It’s okay, I’ve got a little tear as well,” A’whora murmurs from Tayce’s side. She huffs a sigh. “I can’t even believe anyone would fall for that pencil-skirt-wearing cow. I mean, she fucking manspreads and that’s supposed to be some sort of sexy come-on?”

“Aw, and like you could do any better?! We’ve all seen you trying to flirt, it’s embarrassing!” Lawrence cries in outrage.

Tayce is reminded of nights out earlier in the year when A’whora would talk to girls at bars and Tayce would always feel this inexplicable burn in her chest in response. She remembers the unfounded relief when A’whora would come back home to the flat with the rest of them, one-night-stand missions failed, and the churn in her stomach the times when she’d leave with a girl she didn’t know and sneak back into the flat at nine in the morning, ready to tell the others about her exploits from the night before which Tayce never wanted to hear.

She’s really fancied A’whora for a long time, now she thinks about it.

“I could so do better!” A’whora complains, and Tayce isn’t looking at her but she just knows she’s pouting.

Lawrence chuckles, tilting her head in amusement. “Go on then! What would your plan of action be, Miss fuckin’ Womaniser?”

There’s a pause before A’whora says, “Well I’d probably wait until we were both drunk on a night out, do tequila shots with them, drape myself over them, kiss them, then get them to take me back home.”

Tayce thinks she deserves an Oscar for the way she refuses to outwardly react to the way A’whora has essentially just described their kiss from that night out. Inside, however, it’s a different story. She’s not sure it’s possible for her heart to go any faster, and every cell of her body seems to buzz. She can barely hear Lawrence and Bimini laughing in response to A’whora’s comment for the way her blood’s roaring in her ears. Once the others stop paying attention and go back to watching the film, it’s only then that Tayce turns her head, raises one unimpressed eyebrow at A’whora who’s looking up at her with a scheming smirk on her face and a glint in her eye.

And right as she’s looking at her, A’whora closes her eyes and plants a kiss against Tayce’s arm then goes back to watching the movie as if nothing ever happened.

It’s at that point that Tayce feels her mouth dry up, feels something coil tight inside her and a throb between her legs. Something is going to happen the moment the pair of them are alone, she can feel it. There’s no way it can’t. In stark contrast to earlier, Tayce now wills the film to end sooner rather than later.

And it does. Finally. The credits roll, the Beach Boys are playing, and Lawrence slaps her thighs. “Well, that was a heap of shite!”

“I’ve still not forgiven Alan Rickman. God love the dead old bastard,” Bimini shrugs, heaves themself up off the floor and slides their phone out of their back pocket, scrolling busily. “Oh, Ellie’s asking if we wanna come join her an’ Anne for drinks. Apparently they’re in some boujie cocktail bar in town spending all their student loan and need responsible adults to stop them.”

“Why the hell are they asking us then?” Tayce quips, the giggle it elicits from A’whora sending a shockwave down her spine.

“I’m down to go meet them both. I’m already tipsy, might as well go the whole hog and get rat-arsed,” Lawrence says decisively, leaping up from the sofa and fixing Tayce and A’whora with an inquisitive glance. “You two coming?”

Tayce lets go of A’whora’s waist and stretches to make a point. “Nah, babe, I can’t. Got this essay due on Wednesday I’ve not started.”

Bimini snorts. “Yeah, I forgot. You’re dead on it and organised, in’t ya?”

Tayce pulls a face at them while Lawrence asks A’whora.

“Mmph. Think I need a nap before I even think about drinking any more, hun.”

Lawrence eyes them both suspiciously and appears to be about to say something else before Bimini tugs on her arm and distracts her. “C’mon then, let’s leave these two to be boring. Have fun, losers!”

Goodbyes are exchanged between them and Lawrence and Bimini finally leave, the fire door to the kitchen swinging shut and leaving the warm glow of the fairy lights, the blanket, the sofa, and A’whora gazing at her with that shit-eating smirk on her face again.

So Tayce wastes no time in bringing a hand up to her jaw, leaning down and kissing her, and judging by the way that A’whora melts into her and lets out a little happy sigh of satisfaction she’s been waiting for it just as much as Tayce has. They fall together like it’s easy, as if both of the times they’ve done this before have been all the practise they need. A’whora brings her hand to rest against Tayce’s cheek as if she’s trying to somehow pull her closer than she already is, and her neediness makes Tayce giggle against her lips. In turn it sets A’whora off, and when she pulls away their faces are still close and there’s little smiles on each of them.

“What’s so funny, you little bitch?” A’whora smirks, her barbed words cushioned by the way she’s wriggling onto Tayce’s lap and bringing her arms up to circle around her neck just like she did the first time in the club.

“Just you’re kind of giving me mixed signals here, baby. Saying you don’t want things to be awkward and then moving to me the entire film,” Tayce mutters, keeping a playful smile on her face despite the fact her words hold entirely too much truth.

It clearly takes the wind out of A’whora’s sails because she casts her gaze down, pauses before speaking and looking at Tayce from under her lashes. “I didn’t mean that, I just meant…I want us to be able to do stuff and not have it be awkward afterwards.”

Oh.

This is a game changer. So A’whora doesn’t regret anything. She doesn’t want them to go back to the way things were- well no, she does, just with an extra little bit of something more added in. She wants the friendship they have but she also clearly wants Tayce like she wants her back, and the realisation makes Tayce squeeze her thighs together, anticipation now so high she feels scared for her blood pressure.

Tayce tries not to let her realisation show on her face. Instead she looks at A’whora with interest, raises an eyebrow at her in amusement. “What’s ‘stuff’, then?”

“Well, just like…if we’re both horny and in the same flat then it saves us having to swipe Tinder for hours on end only to find a girl with a boyfriend who’s looking to ‘experiment’ and never found another girl’s clit in her life, doesn’t it?” A’whora shrugs blithely despite the blush that’s hit her cheeks, her turn of phrase making Tayce bite back a smile. “Whereas I’ve been told I’m quite good at that.”

The twinkle is back in A’whora’s eye again and the combination of that, her smirk and her words make Tayce’s stomach do a somersault. She can’t let it show, though, can’t let A’whora see her crack so she blinks to maintain her composure, tilts her head with mock-curiosity. “Have you now.”

“Yeah. Could show you if you wanted,” A’whora grins brazenly back at her, shifting a little in Tayce’s lap and sending her into orbit. “Plus I can’t remember if I put on matching underwear this morning, so…you should come help me check.”

Tayce breaks the stalemate to throw her head back in a laugh. “Jesus Christ, Lawrence was right. You actually can’t flirt to save yourself.”

She watches A’whora’s face drop into a pout and instantly feels as if she’s kicked a puppy, so Tayce brings one of her hands up to rest on top of her thigh and gives it a squeeze. “Says a lot for how fit you are that it’s still working though, doesn’t it?”

The pout cracks into a scheming smile, and Tayce matches it before A’whora leans in and kisses it off her face. It’s more heated this time, that little undercurrent of intensity as Tayce runs her tongue over A’whora’s and hears her whimper against her lips. As A’whora pushes her fingers into Tayce’s hair Tayce lets her hands drift around to the small of her back, and the way A’whora keeps shifting needily in her lap only makes Tayce want her more, which she didn’t think was even possible.

“We’ve got a free flat, you know,” A’whora mutters in between little kisses, her voice low as she whispers against her lips.

“Probably a good thing. You couldn’t be quiet if your life depended on it,” Tayce teases, running her fingers over the waistband of A’whora’s sweatpants in an attempt to try and convey how much she needs her.

“Oh, you have no idea, babe,” A’whora smirks before pulling away, ripping her top out from where it’s tucked into her waistband and tugging it off, barely even giving Tayce a chance to react. She’s left in a little black bralet with Playboy logos along a white band at the hem, and Tayce feels her mouth go dry.

She’s really, really hoping A’whora put on matching underwear this morning.

But she’s still taken aback because after all- they’re in the middle of their living room, and any of the others could walk in at any given moment- so she can’t help the way her mouth drops open and the way she lets out a little shocked giggle. “A’whora!”

“What?!” A’whora smiles smugly back at her, clearly glad she’s got the reaction she wanted.

“We’re not shagging on this couch, are you insane?! It’s rotten! Kim Woodburn would have a fit if she saw it!”

“Oh, so we are going to shag?” A’whora regards her with one cocked eyebrow, and Tayce can’t help but mirror it. There’s a pause before she gives a small huff of mock-resignation, sealing their fate.

“God. We’re really doing the whole friends with benefits cliché, then?”

A’whora smirks affectionately at her. “Only awkward if we make it awkward.”

She holds out her pinkie between them and Tayce takes it with a resigned laugh, the childish nature of their promise contrasting deeply with the whole situation.

“C’mon then, bestie, lead the way.”

And as A’whora scrambles excitedly off her lap and Tayce takes the opportunity to smack her ass playfully, she feels her heart soar and her head grow light at the thought of being able to do everything she’s been thinking about doing for over a month with one of her best friends in the world.

She wonders why everyone seems to say that a friends with benefits situation isn’t a good idea. This is already the best decision she’s made in years.

[starrybethany]

Clayton Keller: Part 1

Word count: 2408

Debbie. Fucking Debbie.

Jesus Christ, why did it have to be Debbie and not Chris? I would take Chris over Debbie every day, at least he doesn’t judge me when I get my rent money in a few days late. I’m a poor college student paying the rent by herself, give me a break.

“What’s up?” I ask, swinging the front door to my apartment open.

“Hi Y/N,” Debbie sends me a fake smile. “I’m just here to remind you that your rent is due in a week.”

“I have it written down, Debbie.”

“Oh,” she actually appears to be shocked. Is this bitch serious? Does she really think that little of me? Well, I haven’t given her much faith to have in me, though... “Well, just don’t forget to give it to me or Chris.”

“I know.”

She gives me another fake smile. “Have a great night, Y/N.”

“Yep, bye.” I close my door, rolling my eyes at the judgemental, middle-aged woman. “Fucking bitch,” I whisper under my breath, making my way to the living room to take a seat on the couch.

Okay, I do see why she’s concerned, though. I have been turning my rent money in late over the past couple of months but that’s just because of my lack of employment. I’m struggling to find a job that’s flexible enough that will work with my class schedule since I’m taking more credits next semester than I ever have before. This means that I have to use the little money I have saved up for rent. That money’s running out fast, though, so I have to find a job right now.

I scroll through the list on Indeed, sighing at all of the minimum wage jobs. None of those will be able to help me afford my apartment and I can’t move even if I wanted to. Every apartment in Glendale is expensive as hell and this apartment is close enough to my college that I’m able to walk to class instead of having to spend money on a car or a bus pass.

I apply for a couple of jobs anyway, figuring that I could always pick up two minimum wage jobs, despite how much I would hate it, and reluctantly check my email.

The government sent me an email an hour ago letting me know that my FAFSA has been submitted and I groan out loud, resting my head in my hands. How am I supposed to save money to pay back my student loans when I don’t even have the money to afford an apartment now?

I really have no clue what I’m going to do and all I want to do right now is drink away my troubles. I check my phone to see how long ago my friends told me they were on their way to come over to get ready and pick me up to go out to the club.

This is a long overdue night out.

I scroll through Instagram until there’s a knock at my apartment door and screams letting me know that it’s locked. I roll my eyes, standing up from my spot at the kitchen table and making my way towards the front door, opening it.

“I know it’s locked, dumbasses, Debbie was just here and I didn’t want her to knock the door open asking for rent money again,” I explain, letting my friends in.

“Just offer to eat her out instead of paying for rent next month,” Tyler recommends.

“Can you imagine? Debbie would pass out if you said that to her,” Besty giggles before walking down the hall towards my bedroom.

“Is that what you’re wearing to the club?” I eye Tyler’s T-shirt and sweatpants.

“Girl, did you really just ask me that?” He practically buries me with his eyes as we follow our other friend to my bedroom.

“What are you wearing tonight, Y/N?” Betsy asks, pulling random articles of clothing out of my closet.

“Why? Are you trying to figure out which of my clothes you want to wear?” I stand in front of the closet with her.

She sends me a cheeky smile. “Maybe.”

“I’m definitely wearing this top,” I pull out the gold crop top. “And then some ripped jeans and my metallic blue vans. You can choose anything except those things.”

“Thank you,” she sings, pulling out clothes to look at.

I get dressed, throw my hair in a messy high ponytail and rest a gold chain around my neck.

“Who’s paying for drinks tonight?” I ask, walking into my bathroom to start my makeup.

“I’ll pay if you do my eyeliner,” Tyler offers, lying on my bed and playing on his phone since he finished getting dressed a long time ago.

“Get over here, then,” I order, pulling out my liquid eyeliner. I do his makeup carefully, directing his gaze towards the mirror to examine it.

“It looks great, thanks, babe,” Tyler sends himself a kiss in the mirror and I laugh, beginning my own makeup.

Two hours later we’re ready to go and stumbling down the sidewalk, some alcohol already in our systems from pregaming.

We’re all buzzed but not drunk yet, wanting to wait until we at least get to the club so we would be able to walk there. The bouncer lets us in the club with one glance, noting our slutty clothing and deciding we’re good enough to be let into the high class club.

The pounding music shakes the tiled flooring as we shoot straight to the bar, Tyler ordering us several glasses of shots and a variety of mixed drinks.

“Put it on my tab,” he yells over the bass to the bartender as she sets the tray down in front of us. I can barely hear his words over the feeling of the alcohol burning my throat as I take the shot of Jack Daniels.

“Dibs,” I call, reaching for the Sex on the Beach. The liquid sloshes out of the drink a little as I pick it up, the alcohol already taking over my system.

Betsy lets out a whine in protest at the same time she reaches for the Old Fashioned so I ignore her, directing my attention to the dance floor.

It’s honestly busier than I expected, which shouldn’t be surprising since it’s a popular spot for people to go to on a Saturday night. The dance floor is practically overflowing with people but if anything, it makes me want to jump in and go on a treasure hunt for the cutest boy to hook up with. I need a break from thinking and an attractive man is the perfect solution for that.

My vision sways as I stand up from the stool, setting the empty glass on the bar’s countertop before dancing my way over to the crowd. I enter besides a group of cute girls and they drunkenly invite me to dance with them, so there’s just five of us girls stumbling around and yelling together.

When I’m exhausted, I let out a loud giggle and move towards the center of the dance floor, closing my eyes and throwing my hands up in the air in carelessness and freedom. My body moves along to the beat of the music, the liquor swimming through my veins keeping me from caring about how I appear.

Soft hands press to my bare waist, firm enough to keep me in place but loose enough to let me go if I want to leave the grip. I let them rest, leaning back to rest my back on his chest. With my eyes still closed and the lyrics to the song belting from the bottom of my lungs, I wrap my arms around the stranger’s neck, playing with the long hair at the bottom of his neck.

I feel the chuckle that he lets out vibrate through both his and my body and his hands travel towards my belly button, connecting together and pulling me closer towards him. I smile hazily, one hand traveling down to rest over both of his and turning my head towards his. I have to lean up to reach his face but I leave a sloppy kiss on his jaw, opening my eyes to see what he looks like.

I can’t see much through the strobe lights of the dance floor but from what I can tell, he’s cute. His hair is not short but not long, it’s more on the longer side of short hair, if that makes sense. But I like it, I like long hair. He has a few cuts on his face and I can’t help but wonder what from. By his calloused hands I can guess that maybe he has a dangerous job or hobby, like working in construction or doing boxing on the side.

I can see a hint of a chain under his shirt and I reach for it, tugging it out of his T-shirt. He watches as I examine the silver cross, stroking over it with my thumb.

Something moves out of the corner of my eye and I turn my head towards it, noticing Betsy waving a glass of a daiquiri, my favorite drink, at me. Tyler laughs from next to her as I immediately launch myself out of the stranger’s arms, pushing through the crowd clumsily as I make my way towards the bar.

“Just as I was starting to sober up,” I comment, climbing onto a barstool and taking the glass from Betsy.

“Who’s your friend?” Tyler asks, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

“Oh, I don’t know.” I sip on the beverage while moving along to the song, watching as Tyler leaves to talk to some cute guy at the other end of the bar.

“Will you be okay if I leave you here by yourself?” Betsy finally asks after exchanging seductive glances with some guy on the dance floor.

“Betsy, please,” I stir my second daiquiri. “You deserve to get laid tonight, go.”

“If you need me, come get me,” she orders.

I roll my eyes, calling after her, “I won’t!”

I start to enter my thoughts as I notice someone sitting down on the stool next to me. I don’t look over at the person, focused on counting how many drinks I had tonight.

He coughs, then says, “Hey.”

I glance over at him and my eyes are instantly drawn to the cross dangling from his neck. It’s the guy I danced with earlier.

“Hey.”

“You were dancing with me earlier,” he states, jutting with his thumb towards the dance floor.

“I know,” I nod.

He flushes, nodding as well. “Oh.” He’s quiet. “So, uh, I’m Clayton.”

“Y/N,” I respond, sticking my hand out for a handshake.

He shakes my hand, sending me a small smile. Now that we’re in somewhat proper lighting, I can see what he looks like more, and dang, he is cute. I can tell now that his hair is a nice shade of brown and his eyes are this magnificent green color. I could stare at them forever and never be able to tell how many different shades and colors there are in his eyes.

“You from around here?” He asks, motioning the bartender over.

I nod and watch as Clayton puts in his order, turning to me. “Do you want another drink?”

“No, I’m good,” I reject.

He raises his eyebrows but nods, thanking the bartender for the beer. I like to play hard to get when it comes to boys. It makes the sex better.

“Who’s that?” I ask, nodding towards a blonde boy at the end of the bar.

Clayton turns to look, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “That’s my teammate. Why?”

“He keeps looking at us,” I take the final sip of my daiquiri. “Teammate?”

“Yeah I play for the Arizona Coyotes.”

“Oh, hockey.”

“Have you ever been to a game?” He questions.

“Yeah, I went on a date once and then you guys lost and my date got pissed so he ditched me in the middle of the arena,” I explain.

“Oh that sucks. I mean, I wouldn’t be with you at the game obviously but I’d love to take you out on a date after a game, if you would like,” he asks me out with a smile.

“No thanks,” I pass, watching as Tyler and the guy he was flirting with stand up from their stools. They’re probably going back to Tyler’s place to hook up now.

“What? Did you say no thanks?”

“Yeah I’ll pass on the offer, no offense. I’m just not looking for anything serious right now.”

A bunch of cash is thrown on the bartop in front of me and Tyler looms over me. “Money for the bar, and some extra for your rent next month. It’s not a lot but it’ll help until you get stable a bit, okay? And don’t you dare give it back, otherwise you’re paying for drinks next time when I plan to get blackout wasted. Oh, and don’t come over to my apartment for the rest of the weekend.” He winks, grabbing his hookup’s hand and leading him out the door.

I roll my eyes at Tyler, calling the bartender over to close his tab. Clayton watches as I pay the bill and shove the rest of the money into my pocket.

“You’re having trouble paying your rent, huh?” Clayton asks with a sigh, picking up his beer and swirling it around.

I give him a look. “Why do you care?”

“And you don’t want to be in a serious relationship but you want to have some fun,” he continues, “Looks like what you’re looking for is a sugar daddy.”

I scoff. “I don’t want to hop on some desperate sixty year old’s dick, Clayton.”

“Who said they had to be sixty? They could be, I don’t know, twenty one with seven million dollars to spend a year,” he responds.

“Seven million?” I almost choke.

“And maybe, that guy doesn’t know what to spend that money on but he sees a beautiful girl sitting in front of him and well,” he shrugs, maintaining eye contact while he takes a sip of his beer.

I narrow my eyes at him. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.”

“Dead.”

“If you’re really offering to be my sugar daddy-””I am.”

“Be prepared. I’m high maintenance.”

[winzenni]

i like u (jung jaehyun)

Summary: Having caught feelings for your friend with benefits, you decide to cut him off for good. However, as expected, things don't turn out according to plan.

Genre: angst, fluff

Pairing: fwb!jaehyun, college!au

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: inspired by the lyrics of “i like u” by Niki! Also tw!very slight smut

“Y/n, can you come over today?” his honey-like voice echoes over the phone.

“U-um, sorry, I don’t think I can, Jaehyun,” you half-heartedly force yourself to say. “I-I’m really busy with the upcoming chem final. I can’t fail this one.”

“Maybe a little stress relief is what you need. We can... study together.” You can literally hear the smirk on his face, dripping with lust.

“Sorry, Jaehyun, I can’t.”

You should’ve known Jung Jaehyun would be a troublemaker in your life. From the moment you first met in high school, when all the girls swarmed around him but he only wanted to talk to you, to when he took you to the senior prom (as friends), to when he proposed becoming friends with benefits in college.

The two of you had always gotten along well and balanced on the line between friends and lovers; that’s just how well you two got along. When he proposed friends with benefits, you thought nothing could go wrong. You guys liked each other enough to be friends and you already knew each other like the back of your hand; from favorite colors to hidden kinks. You should’ve known that like in the cliché movies, romantic feelings would arise.

You can’t do this anymore. This friends-with-benefits thing. He treated you better than anyone else could; he caressed you with care and gentle touches. At the end, he always made sure to take care of you. Sex with him was always more than enough, but at the same time, never enough. Because at the end of the day, he was off without a second thought for you. You were just his comfort and stress relief, his toy when he was bored. But these days, he felt like more than that to you. Lying in bed beside him, you couldn’t help but notice: his beautiful, peachy skin that you couldn’t help but stare at. The way he held you in bed like he cared about you as a lover rather than just a sex partner. In the past few weeks, as your feelings for Jaehyun grew, you decided you needed to distance yourself from him. Resist him just a little longer, and soon, he would get bored of you and leave, and you would never have to worry about him again.

Every day, Jaehyun asked you to come over, but you rejected him with a lame excuse each time, either about studying, not feeling in the mood, or being busy some other way. You just needed to last the weekend, just two more days. Then take your final on Monday, then worry about completely forgetting about Jaehyun later.

You couldn’t even focus in your lecture without thoughts of Jaehyun clouding your mind. Everywhere you looked, your mind turned to Jaehyun and recalled the sound of his golden, honey voice, the way his fingers wrapped around you like they were made to caress your body, the image of his soft, light brown hair matted against his sweaty forehead during sex. You decided you needed something to clear your mind this weekend before the rest -- and infamous frat boy Yuta Nakamoto’s party this Saturday sounded like the perfect answer. He was a bit of an airheaded fuckboy, but everyone knew his parties were god-tier.

--

Entering the frat house an hour late.(since you were unable to decide which of your mediocre dresses you should wear), you passed the door to be engulfed in waves of already drunk college students. Some talked in clumps with their friends, others sat passed out on couches, and some were just wobbling around the hallways, already wasted. Flashes of glitter on bodycon dresses sparkled under the dim house lights, creating a disco-like effect on the walls.

Everyone was with a friend, or boyfriend/girlfriend, or hookup, but you were alone. It was a little awkward to enter alone, but then again, you were just here to get drunk, dance a little, and go home, all without thinking about Jaehyun and how conflicted you had felt rejecting him for the past week nonstop.

You instantly headed towards the drinks table, grabbing a red cup and pouring whatever was in the bottle closest to you, then chugging it. The fruity but bitter taste burned your throat, but you just kept going, If this mysterious liquid was what would make you stop thinking about Jaehyun, so be it.

Ten (or was it twenty? Whatever) drinks later, you felt a buzzing in your stomach and in your brain. You barely remembered what you had even drunk. You needed to pee so bad, so you climbed the stairs and searched for an open bathroom.

After relieving yourself, you opened the door and headed back downstairs towards the kitchen, but bumped into a boy with bright red hair tied into a ponytail as you were crossing the hallway. Yuta.

“Oh, hey there, y/n,” He greeted. “I didn't know you came to my parties.”

You and Yuta were never the closest of friends. He was some friend of some friend of Jaehyun, and you had seen him in classes and parties occasionally but never talked to him. In fact, you were surprised that he knew your name at all.

You slurred out some response, but none of it made any sense. Taking another step towards the stairs but stumbling over the carpet, you fell forward into his chest as he caught you with his arms.

“Oh y/n! Looks like you had a good time with the drinks,” he laughed.

You felt him guiding you onto your feet, and then something else, but your intoxicated mind blurred it all together. Next thing you knew, you were pressed against the wall, Yuta’s arms caging you into a sloppy, tongue-filled kiss.

You had had a lot to drink, but your mind still had your purpose in mind: forget Jaehyun. You kissed Yuta harder, tightening your grip on his back, and pulling him closer. You needed this. Someone to help you forget. As your bodies came closer to continue the kiss, his crotch brushed in between your thighs.

Come to think of it, you hadn't had sex in so long. It had been a week since you avoided Jaehyun but before that, the two of you hadn't met up to fuck for another week or two. Not only were you trying to forget Jaehyun, but you were sexually deprived.

“Baby, we can’t do this here,” Yuta pulled away from the kiss for a moment to let out a soft laugh under his breath.

You realized the two of you were still in the hallway, with others around talking and drinking, uncaring of whatever the two of you were doing.

“No, one more second,” you whisper. “Kiss me a little bit more.”

He presses his lips onto yours for another second before you feel his body being ripped away from you, the sudden loss of heat and change of light making your eyes fly open to see: Jaehyun.

Jaehyun launching himself in between you and Yuta, throwing him almost to the ground.

You see a dark and hungry look in his eyes, but for a second, it seems like an expression of pain and betrayal. But you're so drunk, what's the difference at this point? He grabs your wrist, leading you into the next empty bedroom and sitting you down atop the covers. At this point, you just want to be kissed, even if it's by the boy you were trying to forget about. Hopefully, you think, the action itself can distract you from the person. You lunge forward, smashing your lips onto his, expecting him to do the same like he's always done before, but for the first time, he pushes you off.

“Jaehyun, what's wrong? Just kiss me,” you say.

“No, y/n, I can't, I-”

“Come on Jaehyun, you wanted it so bad literally two fucking days ago. Now you're getting it,” you argue drunkenly.

“Y/n, you're so drunk. You're going to regret this in the morning.”

His words echoed in your head. He was right. You guys had fucked countless times before and done all sorts of different things, and he knew that drunken sex was not your thing. You didn't even like drinking in the first place. And drunken sex was something you hated. You hated waking up the morning after and realizing that last night’s actions weren't a genuine version of you, and regretted letting intoxication control you. But now more than ever, you wanted something to regret, something to pine about to overpower the constant thinking about Jaehyun.

You leaned forward to attempt another kiss, but again, he pushed you away.

“Y/n, you're really drunk. I think you need to get home.” He gripped your shoulders to keep you a steady distance away from him. “Y/n, please. I know you better than you know yourself.”

There. Those stupid fucking words. Those words that a true friend, or a lover, would say. Not a fuck buddy. There he went again with those conflicting words. Reminding you that he was someone, so considerate, who knew you better than you did, and cared for you more than you ever could. And reminding you that this perfect man was just your fuck buddy and could never be your boyfriend.

With all the strength left in you, you pulled his hands off of you and shoved him backward into the bed. Anger and frustration boiled up inside you, built up from months of suppressed romantic feelings and conflicting regrets.

“You’re so -- fuck you, Jaehyun,” you yell, getting up to leave. Before you could turn the doorknob to exit the room, you blacked out.

The alcohol had gotten to your brain. You didn't remember passing out, or the part where Jaehyun ran to your side to check if you were okay. You didn't remember him picking you up, carrying you to his car, and driving you straight home to your apartment and tucking you into bed. All he could think about was you. What had happened to you that you suddenly got so drunk despite your upcoming final? What had been going on in your life that had made you like this? Without words, simply by looking at your face as he removed your shoes and changed you into more comfortable clothes (since it's not like he's never seen you naked before), he could tell all the emotions you had been through in the past week. Anger, frustration, stress, regret, sadness. But why? For now, he just wanted to make sure you were safe and well. Later, he would worry about the words you'd said.

You were always such a bright person, someone that he wanted to know more about and become close with. From the first day of high school, you radiated a smart yet humble aura that differed from the rest of the talkative and arrogant kids. At senior prom, you went with him as friends, but little did you know he had wanted to go as a couple. Seeing you in your red dress, your eyes sparkling under the disco ball, your body softly swaying to the music, that's when he knew.

He liked you. For who you were. You could be doubtful in your talents and abilities, but he always saw you for the kind, devoted person that you were. You were a genuinely good person in his life that he looked up to and he sincerely wanted to see you succeed in life, because you deserved it. More than he cared about himself, he cared about you. He loved you.

But life gets weird in college, and so do hormones. When he first suggested being friends with benefits, he thinks it's that chill thing that friends do, like in the movies, but he’s clearly never watched them closely enough to realize that friends with benefits means no romantic feelings ever. So he thinks he can be your friend with benefits until he moves past his horny college boy phase and wants to confess his romantic feelings to you. But he's wrong, because you've been shutting him out for the past week, and you've gone from friends to strangers.

--

The next morning, you wake up groggily in a loose oversized t-shirt, stretching your arms and blinking your eyes to feel a sharp pain from the exposure to light. Recalling last night’s events, up to shoving Jaehyun, you sit up in bed, your head pounding and mind running a mile a minute. What had you said to him? Did you confess? Or agree to keep being his fuck buddy? You needed to sort this out. Grabbing your phone, you put on some pants and head out of your apartment, heading for Jaehyun’s a few streets down. On the walk there, you couldn't tell if your head was pounding due to the glaring 12pm sun, or however many shots you had had last night.

Finally in front of his door, you pressed the doorbell and regretted it immediately. What were you even going to say to defend yourself if you couldn't remember what you said last night? The options run through your mind before the door opens to Jaehyun, whose eyes widen upon seeing your very hungover condition on his doorstep.

“Y/n! What are you doing he-”

“What am I to you?” You blurt out. Maybe that wasn't such a good start.

“Huh?” He says.

“Tell me what I mean to you.” You rephrase. You need the answer to your romantic feelings now, and if it's not the right answer, you're going to walk home and never see him again. And if it's the right answer, god knows what you're going to do. You take a deep breath before revealing everything. “I know we’re supposed to just be friends with benefits, but I started liking you, and I know I'm not supposed to. I don't remember what I did or said last night but I know that you were being more caring than a friend with benefits is supposed to be. You're always like that and it's giving me mixed signals. Tell me what I mean to you. I like you. And if you don't feel the same, that.. that's okay. But I'm not going to do this anymore.”

Jaehyun’s heart pounds at your sudden confession. He’s been waiting years to be able to tell you the same thing. But all of a sudden, he’s unable to get any words out. All he can do is grab you and pull you into a hug and hold you, closer and harder than he’s ever before. The more he compresses you, his years’ worth of pent up feelings and words he’s wanted to say are released. Through his warmth, you feel your feelings being reciprocated.

He doesn't know how to tell you that he feels the same. And he's felt that way for years. He loosens his grip on you to look into your eyes and check that this isn't some emotional outburst or random prank; as expected, it's none of the above.

“Y/n, I've felt the same. Since high school.” He pulls you in for a kiss, but it's not like the past lustful kisses you've had with deep romantic feelings embedded under layers and layers. This one is a real kiss -- pulled up from under its masks of sex and physical gratification. This is your first kiss in love.

[punkcupcakestyles]

Bad Ideas

In which summer’s here and maybe living with Harry was a bad idea to begin with.

***

The hardest part was looking at him.

I’m not talking about his face, which was a dream to look at. Or his body, and the times he stayed in his towel for a little too long, beads of water rolling down the soft muscles of his tummy.

I’m talking about him, and the fact that I felt like someone had punched me in the gut, just for the sake of it.

It was torture.

The first time I dreamt about Harry, it was a summer night, and the heat was aiming to kill us all.

We had spent most of our afternoon in the living room, the only place in our apartment where the air was breathable and we didn’t feel like we were burning up. Smith was playing with his guitar, while his girlfriend slept with her head resting on his lap.

Harry was lying awkwardly on the couch in front of me. His feet were dangling in the air while he tried to read his book. He kept closing his eyes and dozing off, maybe because of the slow song Smith was playing, or because it was really hot and he had barely slept the night before. The book slowly fell out of his hands and to the floor, with a thud no one else but I seemed to register.

I looked at him and noticed the way his pink lips parted and his hand fell on his tummy, raising up and then falling down with every soft breath. The pink light of the sky was cast on his face, making him look angelic, and his hair, the short curls that were starting to grow, was trying to cascade over his forehead and failing to do so. He looked adorable, and I knew right then I was in a whole lot of trouble.

We’ve all been there. We’ve all felt warmth at the sight on that one person. Felt our heart gets larger and a little bit vulnerable. We’ve felt ourselves falling to our knees.

Later that night, the heat hadn’t gone anywhere. It was suffocating, and I was sweating under the thin sheets, even when all of my windows were wide open. I was wearing a pair of shorts and a sports top, and my right leg dangling in the air to try to get some air. Despite my very serious concern of monsters under the bed, it was the only way I could find to breathe.

It was already 1:30 in the morning when I decided to get up and walk to the kitchen to get some water. Harry was there, already standing behind the tiny breakfast table. He had just taken a shower, I could tell by his wet hair and the fact that his chest was glistening even under the dim light of the room. As I walked closer, I noticed he was wearing a pair of black boxers...and nothing else. I looked at him, his round shoulders, his taut chest and his delightful collarbones, and I got a bit weak on the knees.

He smiled at me as if it was the most natural thing to see each other in our underwear in the middle of the night.

“Thought you were sleeping,” he said, as I walked around him to pour myself that glass of water. He left his own on the table and turned to look at me as I did my best to act natural. Try not to look at his legs, and their nice muscular tone, or the light happy trail that got lost under the fabric of his underwear.

“I couldn’t, it’s too hot,” I said and somehow I managed not to squeak out my words.

He was so close, I could smell the clean strawberry of the soap, and the fake vanilla of his shampoo. He was so close, in fact, that I didn’t think I could blame the hot night for the flush of my cheeks.

I could see myself kissing him. I could imagine standing on my tiptoes and putting my hands over his neck to bring him close. All I could think was the cold feeling of his lips against mine, and the way they would mold in a kiss that was not meant to be. Soft and slow, rough and desperate, I could imagine all of the kisses we were never going to share.

“I thought you were gonna go out tonight,” I remarked, an effort to sound casual and cool. Harry went out every single Saturday night. And other nights too.

“I wasn’t feeling it,” he replied simply.

I nodded and sipped on my water. Actually, not sip, that sounds like a delicate thing to do. I gulped it in one swing, half thirsty for the cold drink, half desperate to get out of there.

Harry was looking at me, a half smirk curling up his lips when he saw the water spilling down my lips. The drops of water ran down my chin, and my neck and to my pink top, and I felt myself burn in embarrassment as I let the glass over the table and quickly tried to dry myself with just my hands.

I was waiting for the snippy comment, like the ones he would carelessly and quickly throw whenever Smith or I did something wrong or dumb, which was often. But it never came. Instead, he let his fingers brush over the center of my lips, and wipe a drop of water I had missed.  It was quick, so quick in fact, for a second I doubted if it even had happened. I looked at him, standing still at his touch, while he cleared his throat and looked the other way.

“I put a bottle of water in the fridge. Take it,” was all he said, his low mumble twisting his words before he left.

What had just happened?

I dreamt of him that night, of the tingling feeling of his touch and of bruised lips from kissing. I dreamt of his big hands, wrapped around my legs to keep them open, while his tongue lapped at my center, and he sucked and kissed as he pleased. He would look up every time my back arched, a smug glint of his eyes when I moaned his name. I dreamt of him and nothing else, and I woke up drenched in sweat.

The second time I dreamt of Harry, he was in the shower, and I was pretty sure he wasn’t alone. I could hear him moan, and it didn’t take much imagination to figure out what was happening.

I had just arrived from work, after having a few drinks with friends, and I was fucking tipsy. Drunkenly, I leaned to the door and listened to him for a few seconds, the deep grunts and the low curses that were coming from him. Our paper-thin walls were a fucking blessing.

I could see myself on my knees, looking up at him with a shy smile, as the water ran down his body. My fingers wrapping around his cock, as I guided it to my mouth, his deep moan when I started to lick the swollen tip. I could imagine his fingers tangling in my wet hair, and the way they would bring me further down, almost begging for me to take all of him.

It was fucking difficult to walk away from the door and to waddle to my own room and close the door. I was still thinking about his strong legs and the way I would hold on to them when my legs wobbled, just so I could keep sucking him. Lying on the bed, I let my hand slide under my shorts and my middle finger glide over my slit until I found that sweet spot. I thought of him, of his lips and his hands while I kept massaging my clit. Every quiver of my tummy was because of him, the trembling of my legs as they tried to clamp shut around my hand was a reaction to his imaginary touch, the thought of his mop of curls between my legs enough to make me moan.

The next morning, I could barely look at him. His smile, his hands, his lips, they were all reminders of the most unholy thoughts I had probably ever had. A reminder of the hunger and need I had never felt before him.

“I think this it,” Smith said as he sat on the bar stool in front of me, while I was finishing our sandwiches. He put his computer on the counter, carefully trying not to let it drop. Any other damage to it, and he would have a buy a new one.

“I’ve heard that,” Harry mused. He was tidying up the kitchen as I went, making sure I didn’t leave a mess or had anything to clean after “cooking” for them.

“No, mate, this is serious. If that guy likes us, we fucking made it.”

Two wannabe musicians, and a struggling writer/intern. How did we pay for rent?

“Yeah, Smithy, whatever you say,” I smiled at the blonde boy. “Now go, let’s not lose the jobs we already have.”

“Oh, you don’t believe in us. You’ll fly coach when we go on tour,” Smith bit back, his childish smile making him look even younger as he pointed an accusatory finger at me. He took the Ziploc bag I offered him and rushed to the bathroom to get ready for work. I didn’t give a fuck, wherever they were going, they could bet their asses they were taking me.

Harry leaned over the counter, giving me a small smile as I offered him a Ziploc bag as well. His fingers lingered over mine, and I looked at him, not quite remembering how to breathe.

Fucking hell, it would be so easy to kiss him.

“Wut?” I asked slowly. Harry licked his lips as if he was unsure of what came next. Whatever it was, he knew just enough to keep me close.

Harry took a step closer until he didn’t even to hold my hand to catch my attention anymore. But he still did, wrapping his fingers tightly around my wrist, as if he feared I would run away if he let me go.

“Were you...were you home last night?”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

Had he caught me? Had he noticed I had listened to him like a fucking creep? Had whoever was with him realized he was living with a fucking stalker?

“Y-yes.”

“Look, I…” He began but stopped as Smith stormed out of the bathroom, hands still trying to button his red plaid shirt.

“Ok, Styles, could you get the tequila for tonight’s party? I don’t think I…” Smith babbled, struggling to keep up with everything he was doing. His phone slipped to the floor, and he rushed to get it before finally looking at us. Pink splashed on his face as his eyes bounced from Harry to me, and then widened as he realized Harry was actually holding me. “Or I could try to get it,” he said. “Yeah...I-I’ll do that.”

My heart was racing fast, but it was nothing compared to Smith’s. He rushed, actually stumbled, out, without looking back. We had scared him, and we were just holding hands.

I wished it was the end of it, the awkward moment to end all awkward moments, but apparently, there was still more to come. Harry cleared his throat and squeezed my fingers lightly between his, to make me look at him. I did so, his green eyes looking curiously at me.

“Harry, s’normal,” I cut him off before he could even start. “You get to bring girls home.”

“I wasn’t…” Harry looked confused for once. But I still had more to say. I could fill a whole room with words if that meant we could end the conversation right after.

“Smith did before his girlfriend. You’re young and cute, and girls like that. So don’t worry”

“M’not worried,” He drawled. His accent got thicker whenever he was annoyed. “And I was alone.”

“Oh…”

“Were you?” The question was really simple. I wished I had a fucking answer for it. “Cause I heard you, and I, I think you were alone.” A small smile grew on his lips, the tip of his tongue licking on them as he looked at me. “And I think I heard my name. You’re quite loud.”

The hardest part was looking at him.

I’m not talking about his face, which was a dream to look at. Or his body, and the times he stayed in his towel for a little too long, beads of water rolling down the soft muscles of his tummy.

I’m talking about him, and the fact that I felt like someone had punched me in the gut, just for the sake of it.

It was torture.

The first time I dreamt about Harry, it was a summer night, and the heat was aiming to kill us all.

We had spent most of our afternoon in the living room, the only place in our apartment where the air was breathable and we didn’t feel like we were burning up. Smith was playing with his guitar, while his girlfriend slept with her head resting on his lap.

Harry was lying awkwardly on the couch in front of me. His feet were dangling in the air while he tried to read his book. He kept closing his eyes and dozing off, maybe because of the slow song Smith was playing, or because it was really hot and he had barely slept the night before. The book slowly fell out of his hands and to the floor, with a thud no one else but I seemed to register.

I looked at him and noticed the way his pink lips parted and his hand fell on his tummy, raising up and then falling down with every soft breath. The pink light of the sky was cast on his face, making him look angelic, and his hair, the short curls that were starting to grow, was trying to cascade over his forehead and failing to do so. He looked adorable, and I knew right then I was in a whole lot of trouble.

We’ve all been there. We’ve all felt warmth at the sight on that one person. Felt our heart gets larger and a little bit vulnerable. We’ve felt ourselves falling to our knees.

Later that night, the heat hadn’t gone anywhere. It was suffocating, and I was sweating under the thin sheets, even when all of my windows were wide open. I was wearing a pair of shorts and a sports top, and my right leg dangling in the air to try to get some air. Despite my very serious concern of monsters under the bed, it was the only way I could find to breathe.

It was already 1:30 in the morning when I decided to get up and walk to the kitchen to get some water. Harry was there, already standing behind the tiny breakfast table. He had just taken a shower, I could tell by his wet hair and the fact that his chest was glistening even under the dim light of the room. As I walked closer, I noticed he was wearing a pair of black boxers...and nothing else. I looked at him, his round shoulders, his taut chest and his delightful collarbones, and I got a bit weak on the knees.

He smiled at me as if it was the most natural thing to see each other in our underwear in the middle of the night.

“Thought you were sleeping,” he said, as I walked around him to pour myself that glass of water. He left his own on the table and turned to look at me as I did my best to act natural. Try not to look at his legs, and their nice muscular tone, or the light happy trail that got lost under the fabric of his underwear.

“I couldn’t, it’s too hot,” I said and somehow I managed not to squeak out my words.

He was so close, I could smell the clean strawberry of the soap, and the fake vanilla of his shampoo. He was so close, in fact, that I didn’t think I could blame the hot night for the flush of my cheeks.

I could see myself kissing him. I could imagine standing on my tiptoes and putting my hands over his neck to bring him close. All I could think was the cold feeling of his lips against mine, and the way they would mold in a kiss that was not meant to be. Soft and slow, rough and desperate, I could imagine all of the kisses we were never going to share.

“I thought you were gonna go out tonight,” I remarked, an effort to sound casual and cool. Harry went out every single Saturday night. And other nights too.

“I wasn’t feeling it,” he replied simply.

I nodded and sipped on my water. Actually, not sip, that sounds like a delicate thing to do. I gulped it in one swing, half thirsty for the cold drink, half desperate to get out of there.

Harry was looking at me, a half smirk curling up his lips when he saw the water spilling down my lips. The drops of water ran down my chin, and my neck and to my pink top, and I felt myself burn in embarrassment as I let the glass over the table and quickly tried to dry myself with just my hands.

I was waiting for the snippy comment, like the ones he would carelessly and quickly throw whenever Smith or I did something wrong or dumb, which was often. But it never came. Instead, he let his fingers brush over the center of my lips, and wipe a drop of water I had missed.  It was quick, so quick in fact, for a second I doubted if it even had happened. I looked at him, standing still at his touch, while he cleared his throat and looked the other way.

“I put a bottle of water in the fridge. Take it,” was all he said, his low mumble twisting his words before he left.

What had just happened?

I dreamt of him that night, of the tingling feeling of his touch and of bruised lips from kissing. I dreamt of his big hands, wrapped around my legs to keep them open, while his tongue lapped at my center, and he sucked and kissed as he pleased. He would look up every time my back arched, a smug glint of his eyes when I moaned his name. I dreamt of him and nothing else, and I woke up drenched in sweat.

The second time I dreamt of Harry, he was in the shower, and I was pretty sure he wasn’t alone. I could hear him moan, and it didn’t take much imagination to figure out what was happening.

I had just arrived from work, after having a few drinks with friends, and I was fucking tipsy. Drunkenly, I leaned to the door and listened to him for a few seconds, the deep grunts and the low curses that were coming from him. Our paper-thin walls were a fucking blessing. I could see myself on my knees, looking up at him with a shy smile, as the water ran down his body. My fingers wrapping around his cock, as I guided it to my mouth, his deep moan when I started to lick the swollen tip. I could imagine his fingers tangling in my wet hair, and the way they would bring me further down, almost begging for me to take all of him.

It was fucking difficult to walk away from the door and to waddle to my own room and close the door. I was still thinking about his strong legs and the way I would hold on to them when my legs wobbled, just so I could keep sucking him. Lying on the bed, I let my hand slide under my shorts and my middle finger glide over my slit until I found that sweet spot. I thought of him, of his lips and his hands while I kept massaging my clit. Every quiver of my tummy was because of him, the trembling of my legs as they tried to clamp shut around my hand was a reaction to his imaginary touch, the thought of his mop of curls between my legs enough to make me moan.

The next morning, I could barely look at him. His smile, his hands, his lips, they were all reminders of the most unholy thoughts I had probably ever had. A reminder of the hunger and need I had never felt before him.

“I think this it,” Smith said as he sat on the bar stool in front of me, while I was finishing our sandwiches. He put his computer on the counter, carefully trying not to let it drop. Any other damage to it, and he would have a buy a new one.

“I’ve heard that,” Harry mused. He was tidying up the kitchen as I went, making sure I didn’t leave a mess or had anything to clean after “cooking” for them.

“No, mate, this is serious. If that guy likes us, we fucking made it.”

Two wannabe musicians, and a struggling writer/intern. How did we pay for rent?

“Yeah, Smithy, whatever you say,” I smiled at the blonde boy. “Now go, let’s not lose the jobs we already have.”

“Oh, you don’t believe in us. You’ll fly coach when we go on tour,” Smith bit back, his childish smile making him look even younger as he pointed an accusatory finger at me. He took the Ziploc bag I offered him and rushed to the bathroom to get ready for work. I didn’t give a fuck, wherever they were going, they could bet their asses they were taking me.

Harry leaned over the counter, giving me a small smile as I offered him a Ziploc bag as well. His fingers lingered over mine, and I looked at him, not quite remembering how to breathe.

Fucking hell, it would be so easy to kiss him.

“Wut?” I asked slowly. Harry licked his lips as if he was unsure of what came next. Whatever it was, he knew just enough to keep me close.

Harry took a step closer until he didn’t even to hold my hand to catch my attention anymore. But he still did, wrapping his fingers tightly around my wrist, as if he feared I would run away if he let me go.

“Were you...were you home last night?”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

Had he caught me? Had he noticed I had listened to him like a fucking creep? Had whoever was with him realized he was living with a fucking stalker?

“Y-yes.”

“Look, I…” He began but stopped as Smith stormed out of the bathroom, hands still trying to button his red plaid shirt.

“Ok, Styles, could you get the tequila for tonight’s party? I don’t think I…” Smith babbled, struggling to keep up with everything he was doing. His phone slipped to the floor, and he rushed to get it before finally looking at us. Pink splashed on his face as his eyes bounced from Harry to me, and then widened as he realized Harry was actually holding me. “Or I could try to get it,” he said. “Yeah...I-I’ll do that.”

My heart was racing fast, but it was nothing compared to Smith’s. He rushed, actually stumbled, out, without looking back. We had scared him, and we were just holding hands.

I wished it was the end of it, the awkward moment to end all awkward moments, but apparently, there was still more to come. Harry cleared his throat and squeezed my fingers lightly between his, to make me look at him. I did so, his green eyes looking curiously at me.

“Harry, s’normal,” I cut him off before he could even start. “You get to bring girls home.”

“I wasn’t…” Harry looked confused for once. But I still had more to say. I could fill a whole room with words if that meant we could end the conversation right after.

“Smith did before his girlfriend. You’re young and cute, and girls like that. So don’t worry”

“M’not worried,” He drawled. His accent got thicker whenever he was annoyed. “And I was alone.”

“Oh…”

“Were you?” The question was really simple. I wished I had a fucking answer for it. “Cause I heard you, and I...I think you were alone.” A small smile grew on his lips, the tip of his tongue licking on them as he looked at me. “And I think I heard my name. You’re quite loud.”

I was right before: my heart could go faster. Incredibly fast. Ridiculously fast. I was gonna throw up.

Slowly, I let my hand fall from Harry’s and I took the sandwich that was left for me, smiling shyly as I looked away from him. If he was baffled by my attitude or if he was expecting it, I couldn’t know. He let his back rest against the counter and he crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for my next move.

“I’m late for work,” I finally said. “We’ll talk later.”

Or better yet, we wouldn’t.

If there was something to be said about Smith is that he was a fucking genius when it came to throwing a party. He had gotten big, round fans that were scattered all over the apartment, so it wouldn’t be so hot, and he had cold slices of watermelon soaked in margarita. I was having one of those, sitting on the couch right next to a fan. It was heaven.

I scanned around the room, not even trying to keep up with the conversation that was happening around me. But I couldn’t find him, no matter how much I looked. Harry was not there, and I was incredibly disappointed by it.

The feeling in my gut told me it was a bad idea, dumb idea, stupid idea. I probably should have listened to it. Instead, I crossed the living room to walk to Harry’s. For a second, I stared at the door and bit my lip in guilt. It wasn’t a nice thing to do, to walk into someone’s room just because you wanted to. But I still did it, pushing the door softly and closing it behind me.

At first, it didn’t seem like Harry had noticed my presence. He had his headphones on and was absorbed in his book. I almost turned around to leave.

“Hey,” he said, right when I was contemplating my escape routes. His voice was soft and sleepy, and he looked at me as he dropped his book over the nightstand next to his bed. His room was quite simple: One bed, one nightstand, two guitars. It was my first time in it.

“H-hi…I, uh, wanted to check if you were alright.”

“Yeah, just...didn't feel like dealing with people tonight,” Harry smiled.

“Oh, then I’ll leave you alone.”

“No, not you,” he mused, and I stood where I was, still looking at him. “You can stay. Please, stay.”

“I don’t wanna bother…”

“Come here…” He ignored my words. They were barely audible anyway.

I hesitated, trying to find an excuse as to why I actually needed to leave. None of them seemed to work. I twisted my fingers on the fabric of my short skirt and took slow steps in his direction until I was able to sit right next to him on his bed. We were face to face, and I sat over the covers while Harry stayed under them. He was wearing a white cotton shirt and his hair was messy. David Bowie blasted through his headphones. Harry had stolen one of Smith’s fan, and the air was almost too comfortable in his room. 

My lips parted slightly, maybe following his own, and he looked at me right in the eyes, making me shiver as his fingers brushed over my bare arm.

“Tell me…” His voice was barely over a whisper, and a satisfied smirk popped on his lips when he noticed the goosebumps on my skin.

“I can talk about pretty much anything, Harry…” I cocked my head as I offered him a mocking smile of my own. “You’ll have to be more precise.”

“Were you thinking about me yesterday?” He said, and his throat bobbed.

“That’s a bit invasive, don’t you think? I haven’t asked who you were thinking about.”

“I was thinking about you if that’s what you wanted to know,” he said, simply. “Sometimes I change it, but I usually come back to you.”

“That sounds almost romantic,” I mocked.

“Doesn’t it?”

I would like to say he kissed me first, but he didn’t. He let his eyes flutter down to my lips and took a sharp breath, as if he was considering it. But it wasn’t enough, I wanted to be kissed, wanted to get to know the taste of his lips. Damn it. Not allowing myself to think, I tilted my head and let the tip of my fingers press to his neck, his heartbeat pulsing under them. The tip of my nose brushed his and he let a breathy laugh out right before I pressed a kiss to his lips.

It wasn’t rushed like I imagined it would be. His hands pressed to my sides to hold me close, while he trapped my bottom lip between his, and the tip of his tongue licked across it. A heavy sigh died on the kiss, and I wasn’t entirely sure if it was his or mine. All I knew was that he was a slow kisser, taking his time to enjoy the taste out of my lips, as his fingers curled around my waist.

“Is that yes?” He muttered against my lips, while still pressing soft kisses on them. Every word felt warm and fuzzy and I was losing my mind just a bit.

“This is a fucking stupid idea,” I laughed in response, opening my eyes to see he was already looking back at me. Still, we didn’t move, allowing our breaths to mix and our lips to brush, as we enjoyed the idea of keep on going.

“I know, I was thinking we could be stupid, just for a little while.”

“I should go.” Someone had to be smart. It was a shame it was me.

“Don’t.”

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[softforcal]

the roommate!5sos AU continued with Poly 4/4?

ROOMMATE!5SOS POLY CONTINUED

-you were leaving your job at the coffee shop when you bumped into a guy with bright hair coming out from the stairway leading up to the apartment above

-as he helped you pick up your things you mused that we was lucky to be living above the cafe because it must always smell like coffee

-he casually says, “i mean, if you’re looking for a place, one of our rooms just opened up.”

-you stop and stare at him and he explains that his friend Luke moved in with his girlfriend so the rooms available and he was going to make a post about it online but he won’t even bother if you’re actually interested

-”you know what? yeah. i’m interested.”

-exchanging numbers and the next day you agree to see the apartment after a shift when he and his other two room mates will be there

-showing up with free coffee

-”i like you already coffee girl.” Ashton smirks as soon as he sees your offering of coffee

-you’re kinda shook because you had thought you’d only have to deal with one hot room mate, Michael, but his friends are hot too?!

-part of you is like dont move in because they’re all hot

-but part of you is like do move in because they’re all hot

-its a decent apartment

-like… a four bedroom, two bathroom with an open concept kitchen living room?

-and you were right about the smell of coffee

-and because there’s already three living there its actually fairly well priced because the rent is split four ways

-you’d have to share a bathroom with one of them but that’s not the worst thing

-and its right above your work.

-you hang out for a while, getting to know the guys to see if it would be a good fit

-”i’ll take it.” “really!?” group hug

-Ashton and Calum are super down to help you move all your stuff in but Michael isnt as down, he just chills in the living room and plays video games and yells at the guys about being careful

-when its all finished you all somehow manage to collapse onto the couch together and end up playing video games

-Calum’s actually a great cook?

-the first week is a bit difficult, getting used to people’s schedules and figuring out how to share a bathroom with Michael

-a week in and you’d already helped Michael dye his hair

-you hear a lot about their old room mate Luke and they all seem to be on the phone with him a lot, you gather that his whole new relationship apartment isnt working out

-you first meet Luke when you come home one day and he’s on the couch with Calum and he looks pretty rough

-but he still smiles and says hello

-he seems nice too

-you’re in your room later that night and you hear the other three in the kitchen talking about Luke.

-”i just don’t know what we can do.” “we can’t kick Y/N out.” “so where else can he go.” “i mean, he can stay in my room, its the biggest one-” “another guy living here? we need to talk to Y/N about it.”

-you peak your head out and are just like, “if Luke needs to move back in, i can find a new place-” but they’re all super against it.

-”i have space for him in my room, but having another guy here-” Ashton begins but you cut him off, “no, definitely. i don’t mind.”

-so Luke moves back in and stays in Ashton’s room which does have enough space for both

-Luke’s pretty beaten up about everything so a lot of just hanging out and making him feel better

-Michael spends way too much time playing video games in the living room

-and when he’s not there he’s in his bedroom talking to his team mates on pc games

-Ashton somehow fit an electric drum kit into his room so he can play without it being loud but somehow you can still hear his sticks hitting the pats and you feel bad for any girl who’s ass becomes that boys drum kit

-or jealous. jealous is a good word

-Calum’s pretty quiet but he’s a good room mate, always down to cook for you or listen to your problems

-he’s just a chiller

-Luke sings too loud in the shower

-and this boy could burn boiling water

-he’s kind of a walking human disaster

-movie nights where they all talk way too much

-they talk about making a band but never actually ever do it

-Ashton sometimes walks you to work. which sounds sweet but all he has to do is go down a flight of stairs so screw this guy

-your co workers all being jealous because they’re all so hot

-”thats your roommate?” “no i thought her roommate was that gorgeous blonde guy with the sad eyes.” “they both are.”

-they come down during your shifts sometimes to hang out, especially during the non-busy hours

-Ashton will flirt with your co-workers but Calum is the one you have to watch out for

-he’s quiet but all your coworkers are just so in love with his ‘dreamy eyes’

-they always draw smiley faces on his coffee cups when they make him coffee

-Luke comes down to be sweet and say hi and you’re coworkers call him “angel” because he’s beautifully angelic

-and then there’s Michael. he always knows how to make your coworkers laugh

-”oh my god did you see his smile?” “yes, i live with him.”

-you can never bring boys over because unless you sneak him into your room, the guys will for sure make a deal about it

-and if you bring girls over they’ll fawn over your room mates and that can be super annoying so no thank you

-its so weird when girls are over with them. i mean. they are 20 year old boys

-whenever you go into the living room in the morning to see Luke on the couch its not long before a girl runs out of Ashton’s room and out the front door

-they invite you to boys night clubbing

-on Fridays they do clubbing, you know that because the house is dead quiet on Saturday mornings because they’re all passed out

-finding Calum asleep on the kitchen counter one Saturday morning

-taking care of Michael in your shared bathroom because he’s puking

-watching Saturday cartoons and they all trudge into the room sooner or later

-Calum’s usually first and he likes to lay down with his head on your lap

-Luke likes tummy rubs when he’s hung over

-Ashton always try to make it seem like he’s not that hung over but lets just say cowboy hats and sunglasses are a Saturday thing

-so you go out on a friday

-and you end up being dragged onto the dance floor

-they’re all protective of you which means you somehow end up in the middle of all four

-Ashton knows how to sexy dance… hands

-Michael’s kinda awkward but its all good

-Luke is a puppy who just wants to dance with friends

-Calum looks bored most of the night but he also knows how to dance to the beat

-any guy that flirts with you has to watch out for these four showing up

-the night ends with all five of you just heading home together without any hook ups

-Calum carries you home while the other three drunkenly walk around you

-its so hard for all of them to try to fit through the front door at once

-Calum puts you in bed and goes back into the living room where they’re all kinda just like “are we going to talk about the fact that Y/N is sexy as fuck yet or are we going to continue to ignore the elephant in the room.”

-”we can not flirt with our roommate.” “why not?” “because…. just because.”

-now you’re the hung over one and they all want to take care of you

-Calum’s the first one to show up and you just drag him onto the bed to cuddle onto his chest

-so who’s going to cook you breakfast? Not Luke. that’s all i can say.

-Ashton cooks something and comes and sits at the foot of your bed with you and Calum

-Michael comes and jumps into the bed on the other side of you while Ashton makes room for Luke

-somehow you’re all fitting

-”you guys know you’re ruining my sex life right?” (Luke chokes on his water)

-Calum likes to walk around shirtless

-Michael sometimes walks in and goes pee while you’re in the shower

-trying to do the same thing to him and he screamed

-borrowing Ashton’s button ups sometimes because they are so sexy

-braiding Luke’s hair because with that much hair someone’s gotta braid it

-i feel like Calum and Ashton are the ones who do the shopping. you sometimes go with but it usually ends up with them chasing you around the store and Ashton trying to tell you how much sugar is in everything you’re buying because health is important

-impromptu dance parties with Luke where you both sing at the top of your lungs

-Calum walks in on the dance parties and sits down and watch with a grin, Ashton shows up and definitely makes the dancing more sexual whereas Michael just puts his face in his hands and laughs

-probably getting drunk one night and playing Never Have I Ever and Truth or Dare

-my 4/4 things always get to a point where you gotta choose one and i can’t do that for you so i gotta stop but if people want it i can continue this for each guy

————————————————————-POLY5SOS CON’T HERE

-so never have i ever

-these boys looked into Polyamory because they are so fucking wrecked that none of them can make a move because they made a pact

-”truth.” you say. “you’re no fun.” Michael groans but Ashton shushes him, turning to you, “what do you think about Polyamory?”

-you’re kinda taken aback by the question

-you expected something dirty but no?

-”well uhhhh…. i mean it’s an interesting idea. i think with the right communication it could work really well.” you kind of look at all your room mates because why the fuck was that a question

-the game continues and as soon as it’s one of their turns the question goes back to you again, “i really think you should give someone else a turn Mikey.” you laugh

-”nope, truth or dare?”

-you really don’t want a dare from Michael. like out of all of them he’s the one you’re sure would really try to mess with you

-”truth.” you sigh

-he is visibly upset that you chose truth but sighs, “would you be down for a poly relationship with all of us?”

-oooop. there it is.

-looking at all of them. “you guys totally planned this!” you scream

-”answer the question.” Michael grins

-you sigh, taking a swig of your choice of alcohol that you’ve been drinking this whole time, “well i mean we already all live together and you’re all hot as fuck so yeah probably.”

-you turn to Luke, “okay, you’re turn Luke. truth or dare?”  and you know this little fuck is going to say truth because he hasn’t done a dare all night

-”truth.”

-”tell me who came up with this whole Poly thing. spill everything Luke. every. single. detail.”

-he looks at you and gulps then just begins to spill all the goods

-”Michael thought you were cute which is why he offered you a room and when you showed up and you were cute everyone freaked out a little but made a pact not to do anything about it but then Ashton was talking about Polyamory one day and we all looked into it and thought it was a good idea.”

-”so Ashton is the mastermind?”

-”yeah.”

-Ashton is just sitting there with a grin, “i still think its a good idea.”

-so now it’s Luke’s turn but how is he even going to ask anything, they’re all too shook that you would be down

-”umm… Ash, truth or dare?” Luke asks

-and of course Ashton is always down for a “dare”

-”kiss Y/N.”

-of fucking course

-you should have known that would also be part of their plan

-but you never thought Luke would betray you like that. “i mean, if you’re cool with it Y/N.” Luke clarifies. okay. he’s forgiven.

-you sigh and look at Ashton, “okay, go for it.”

-don’t have to tell this boy twice

-he moves closer and cups your face, bringing your lips to his

-his tongue slides against your bottom lip and then his teeth graze it too and you open your mouth slightly, leaning into the kiss

-it lasts longer than you intended

-only ending when Michael says “holy fuck.” and it snaps you out of this little Ashton world you were in

-you pull away and immediately feel yourself flush as Ash grins

-you can’t believe you’re doing this. with your roommates

-your work mates are going to shit a brick

-”so how would you guys want to do this?” you ask

-”it’s not your turn.” Michael laughs

-”screw this game, you guys accomplished what you wanted didn’t you?” you laugh, “seriously, how the fuck is this going to work?”

-having a long discussion about it

-Ash wants to go out and take you on a date but Luke and Michael are too tired, so it’s you, Ash and Cal

-they’re a dream team

-it’s a cute date, holding both of their hands

-getting back to the apartment… and like… they’ve been handsy all night

-ending up in your room

-yeah, they both dom as fuck

-of course the three of you wake up Michael and Luke who show up and are like “what the actual fuck.”

-so of course they join

-and it’s one big mass sex thing but it just works.

-waking up squished between two of them with the other two touching you somehow with an arm thrown over two bodies to get to you

-and they’re all so beautiful all sleepy

-ya’ll need to buy a bigger bed

-they’re all so cuddly

-they all groan a ton too because no one wants to wake up

-the entire pack walking you down the stairs to work

-they all want to be the last one to kiss you

-your work mates are shook as fuck

-they all go upstairs and are just like that was fucking wild

-Luke and Michael meet you after work and take you out for dinner for their date with you

-they’re also super sweet

-Michael teases you about getting some ‘sugar’ when you all get home

-getting there and Cal and Ash are gone

-so Muke threesome

-like, these boys tend to be home in pairs throughout the day and then everyone is usually home by dinner

-so dinners are a thing

-Cal usually cooks for all of you but you guys all try to help

-nudity is chill now that you’re all seeing each other

-like, so much nudity

-so much sex too

-and you’re all together so sex anywhere in the apartment

-Michael is a shower fucker because ya’ll share a bathroom

-Cal likes to eat on the kitchen counter and you’re his favourite meal

-Luke is a fan of the couch

-and Ashton will bend you over anywhere, he aint picky

-they get so used to just sex everywhere

-like Luke gets home and Cal has you on the kitchen counter, his face between your thighs and Luke just is like “hey” and Cal pulls away briefly to be like “sup.” before diving back in.

-Calum asking you and Luke which outfit to wear out while Luke fucks you into the couch, “the blue one or the grey one?” “fuck, Cal, the blue one.” “you like that babe? and yeah, Cal, the blue.”

-like lets be real here. the apartment becomes a sex dungeon.

-it would be hella.

-someone is always down for “the sex”

-hanging out 24/7

-im going to be real. im tired and have been sitting looking at this one for ages. imma stop it here, sorry fam. but sex. a lot.

[darthrena]

(Your Kisses) Taste like Come what May

Excerpt:

“I promise you will love her.  She’s funny, smart, absolutely gorgeous–Just one date is all I am asking.”

“What has gotten into you all of a sudden.  Is this girl on the run from ICE or something?”

“Armie asked me to marry him.”

Ben felt his world collapsing.  His mild amusement long forgotten under the weight of a thousand unspoken words, missed opportunities, and imagined confessions.

Rose’s voice seemed to come from far away.  "Ben?  Aren’t you going to say anything?“

Ben swallowed, forced his throat to produce sounds other than screaming, or worse, a sob.  Oddly, when his mouth felt capable of speech, it was a faint rasp, no hint of the tempest which roiled within.  "Congratulations.  You deserve to be happy.”

o-o-o-o-o-o

Summary:

Ben, Rose and Hux grew up together.  Ben loves Rose, but Rose and Hux are together.  After Rose and Hux become engaged, Rose tries to set Ben up with her friend Rey.  He reluctantly agrees to go on a date.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

A step over the threshold and the familiar creaking of wood, weakened by time and salt-air, and aroma of hearty chowder and ale engulfing his senses, Ben knew he made the right choice.

Nestled between a trendy Korean tapas place and a shoe repair shop with flaking blue paint Ben could recall from his childhood, Takodana was sedate even on a Saturday night. Eclectic knick knacks ranging from a Rico Petrocelli bobblehead, a 1984 Bruce Springsteen poster yellowing at the edges, a carved wooden mask allegedly depicting a warrior of Venezuelan origin, to vibrant weavings of alpaca wool, lined the walls and cluttered the entrance way. Questionable decor aside, the whiskey, unpretentious beef stew, fries and a decent chowder on the menu had long ago made it Ben's favorite bar.

The proprietress, Maz, eyed him from beneath thick rimmed glasses and a bevy of judgement as he slipped into his favorite booth across from the bar. "Ben Solo," she drawled, giving little reassurance in either tone or posture, hands on hips and brow arched.

"Hey Maz," he greeted warily, as Maz stepped from behind the counter.

At last the petite lady put him out of his misery. "I ran into your mother the other day. Said you haven't been home since Christmas."

Right. It wasn't like Ben was avoiding his mother, at least, anymore than usual.  After quitting his job, and getting away from Snoke's insidious manipulations, it had been cathartic almost, reconciling with his mother and Uncle.  your father would be proud, his mother's voice hoarse with tears of grief and pride.  As lovely and neat as the story would appear on the cover or told over dinner parties when his mother was three Merlots in and giving him meaningful, tearful glances--prodigal son returned home and joined his mother's firm--things were still a bit strained.  Their specialties of law differing as they did, weeks could go by without seeing his mother at the office.  Ben made a concerted effort to call his mother once a month, or at least have Kaydel order her flowers or a bottle of wine when he couldn't bring himself to.  "I've just been busy," he mumbled, unable to summon even a modicum of coolness in the face of such obvious disapproval.

Maz tutted at the flimsy excuse, but seemed to relent slightly, moving back toward the bar.  "It'll be the usual then?"

"Yeah."

Silence reigned but for the hub of other patrons chatting and the slight clink of glass as Maz's weathered hands deftly prepared his usual starting drink, an old fashioned.

Maz brought him his drink, laying it down on a lacy, crocheted coaster.  "You want the stew?  I also have a Saturday Chowder."

Ben twitched a smile.  "What makes it a Saturday Chowder again?"

"It's Saturday, isn't it?"

"So just the regular chowder then?"

The spry old lady made a swatting motion with a ladle nowhere near impacting him.  "Don't be fresh with me, Benjamin Organa Solo."

"Oh I wouldn't dare."  Ben took a savoring sip of his old-fashioned.  It was perfect as always.

Maz was shaking her head, a gleam in her eye that should have been a warning of the subject she had been warming up to.  "Just like your father, you are."

Ben forced himself to keep his shoulders from tensing.  It was easier now, breath in, breath out.  When he spoke, however, none of the grief and anger that had once roiled like an summer storm within him escaped.  "I guess so."

"You should go next week, Ben."  Maz's voice was so very gentle.  "Your mother needs you."

"I'll think about it."  Ben cleared his throat.  A burning feeling was crawling up his chest to gouge his eyes.  A judicious sip of his drink doused it slightly, but a distraction was welcome.  "I'll think about the Saturday chowder too.  Hux is joining me though, so I'll wait for him to order."

"Alright then."

After a brief pat against his shoulder, Maz went to attend to a middle aged couple across the bar, and Ben was left alone.

Three gnomes and a tarnished silvery ash tray shaped like a crab on the table beside him were his only company.  Ben spared them a slight smile touched with nostalgia.  The crab shaped ashtray had been a favorite as a child, tagging along with his Dad to Takodana on sweltering afternoons.  A whiff of tobacco, his father's gravely voice and lopsided smile, Don't tell your mother we came here instead of the zoo.

Ben had never minded.  Maz gave him coloring books and the best lemonade, sweating over lace doilies.  Uncle Chewie would drop by, ruffle his hair and tell stories about Mara, the Chieftain of Coquivacoa, who fought the Spanish Conquistadores, or of stomping through the rainforests of Java, weakened by Dengue fever and harangued by monkeys.

There was the sound of the bell ringing, a familiar red head ducking beneath a bright colored talisman.  Dark circles starkly shadowed Hux's steely green eyes, but he still lit up in a smile as his long strides brought him to the seat across Ben.

"Solo, sorry for running late.  Rose was piqued at the sudden boys night, and decided to distract me until I divulged the nature of our evening.  Alas, despite her efforts I kept mum."  Hux regarded him with raised eyebrows, a satisfied grin softening the highhanded tone.

Ben tried not to think too hard about the nature of the "distraction," while remarking dryly, "Easy enough when I haven't told you anything to divulge."

Hux remained unfazed.  "I had high expectations the lovely Rey would be featured."

Absurd though the impulse was, Ben felt a current of displeasure to hear his friend say her name so casually.  "You've met her?"

"Of course.  Rose has had her over several times.  As a fellow countryman, naturally I approve, but she's delightful company and holds her liquor well."

He thought back to the other night, of Rey, six drinks in straddling his face as he ate her out.  "That she does."

Old friends that they were, Hux allowed the topic to drop momentarily, waving over an only too happy Maz to place his order.

Food orders taken (Saturday chowder for Ben, the stew for Hux, with fries to share), Maz drew a IPA from the tap, while fixing her eager sights on Hux.  "'heard you finally made an honest woman of your girl.  Congratulations, dear.  Shame Rose couldn't come tonight."

Hux grinned back, the same beatific look he'd been sporting ever since Rose accepted his proposal lightening his naturally haughty features.  It was easier to focus on his glass and slowly diluting brown liquid as the ice melted, than Hux cheerfully accepting Maz's congratulations.  "--tonight's just us.  Rose sends her love."  Shooting Ben a wink he could do without, Hux continued slyly, "Perhaps next time we'll be back on a double date."

Fuck.

Maz swiveled with super human speed to bring the full throttle of her bespectacled gaze upon himself.  "Started seeing someone?" She cooed with feigned casualness than fooled no one.  Already Ben could sense the gears turning--Maz wasn't one for smartphones, but in the next 24 hours he imagined she would be calling on his mother for tea, or using Takodana's ancient rotary if she deemed the matter too pressing.

While glaring at an unrepentant Hux, Ben hurried to deescalate the conversation.  "It's nothing serious.  Hux is just giving me a hard time."

The man himself merely smiled innocently.  "Rose made it sound different.  Perhaps I misunderstood."

Maz seemed a little disappointed, if skeptical, but she left them to bring their orders to the kitchen.

Finally left alone, Hux dropped all pretense.  "Sorry, I had to tease you a little.  But you know Rey would love this place."

Rey would fit right in to Takodana.  It was easy to imagine Rey cozying across the booth, a tequila neat or a Belgian white ale in hand, cheeks flushed and hair loose as she gossiped with Maz and laughed too loud with Rose.  She would love hearing Uncle Chewie's tales that sounded half like fiction.  He could imagine her asking in that charming lilt about all the odd bops and bits in the shop, and telling her about the time he spilled a customer's beer over the velour bar seat or the time first he snuck a sip of alcohol and Dad had just laughed and Dad--

Dad would have loved her.

"Yeah, she would.""Ben..."  He glanced up at the rather serious tone, and solemn look Hux was sporting.  "Did you mean that?  About it being nothing serious."

Did he mean it?  He thought of Rose, smiling sadly as she told him, So do you, you know.  Of Rey's knowing hazel eyes.  You have feelings for Rose, don't you?

"I don't know," he admitted.

There was a sound of huffed laughter from his side.  "Dude, you have it bad."

Ben grimaced.  "Please, don't say Dude."

"Hombre."

"Please stop talking."

"Homie?"

The next couple hours passed in a blur of warm food and easy conversation.  Hux let Ben off the hook for the most part on the subject of Rey.  After Hux had drunkenly complained about the wedding planning for thirty minutes--"Why do we need to have a rehearsal dinner and a wedding?  Why must the party favors match the bridesmaid dresses?"-- Ben surprised himself by bringing it up.  Although, alcohol likely had somewhat to do with it.

"I don't know what to do about Rey."

"You should just call her, mate," Hux slurred with exasperation.

"And say what?" he snapped back.

Hux shrugged.  "I like you.  I want to date you?  Doesn't seem all that complicated."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered under his breath.  His head felt muddled under the weight of alcohol and confusion of his emotions.  "On our date, I told her that I'm not looking for a serious relationship."

"And?"

"And now I don't know what to do."  Hux was poised to argue again, so Ben cut him off hastily, "I don't know what I want to do."

After a moment's pause, Hux rubbed his face blearily.  "Look, Ben, I think you're overthinking this.  How do you know she's looking for a serious relationship?  She's what, 25 years old?  If you want to see her, tell her you want to see her.  If you want to date her, tell her that."

That seemed...reasonable.

Hux was right.  He didn't have to have everything figured out just yet.

If he wanted to see Rey again, then he should just ask her.

Which was how he found himself standing on the corner as he waited for his cab, dialing Rey's number.

It rang a few times, a length sufficient for Ben's anxiety to stir to life restlessly, before a sleepy voice answered at the last ring.

"Hello?"

"It's Ben."

"Ben!"  The voice sounded much more awake now.  There was a low chuckle that sent a warm, molten pulse through his veins.  She must have been sleeping.  Ben wondered idly if Rey slept bare as she had in his company, or if she wore a ratty t-shirt over panties, if her nipples pressed through the thin fabric.  His fantasies were interrupted by Rey continuing with obvious amusement, "I was following the advice of all those Just Seventeen magazines I read growing up, and planned to text you in the morning.  Seems like it paid off."

"Oh."  Ben considered this information for a moment.  "I read mostly read F&SF.  The fantasy and science fiction magazine.  They didn't offer much dating advice."

Now Rey laughed full out.  "No, I'd imagine not," she replied after catching her breath.

"I want to see you again."

Inebriated though he was, Ben could detect the smile in Rey's voice.  "We literally just saw each other this morning."

"Technically it was yesterday."

"That should tell you something of the appropriateness of your phone call."

Oops.  "Sorry."

There was another huff of laughter over the receiver that briefly whited the sound.  "Look Ben..."

That beginning was not promising.  Nerves bubbling up his gut, Ben was helpless against the flow of babble as he cut her off: "I can't stop thinking about you.  The way you taste.  Your cunt clenching on my tongue, the sounds you make when you come.  And the way you laugh.  Whether you like green tea tiramisu or hate IPAs."

"Fuck, Ben."  There was a weak laugh on the other end, overwhelmed and something else his alcohol impaired brain couldn’t translate.  "Are you always like this?"

"No," he breathed back.  "Not at all.  Never."

"Ben."  Her voice was a sweet sigh.  There had never been a more lovely sound than her lips around his name.  "I want you too.  It's just, well, what about Rose?"

"Rey."

His mind was in free fall.  The ground beneath his feet had slipped away.  What about Rose?  He loved her, didn't he?  He grasped at bits of thoughts, stray feelings, a warmth that was Rose's smile and nose scrunched in glee, and a smoldering burn that was Rey's lips parted in ecstasy--but those sum of parts defied revelation, no, he refused to summate them.  He was vaguely aware of his panicked breathing, but remained in paralyzed impasse.  When Rey spoke, her voice was tentative and gentle and far better than he deserved.

"Ben?  It's alright.  I understand."

"You understand?" he repeated dumbly.  How could she make sense of what he barely comprehended?

"Yes."  There was a pause, and a hitch in Rey's breathing.  "Well, you want something more casual.  I get it.  We had a lot of fun together.  But if you don't mind, I'd like to think it over.  Maybe you should too, when you aren't drunk."

No, that's not what he meant.  Tell her now.  Open your mouth.  "Oh," he said.

"Yeah."

"Oh."

There was a pause that stretched on and on.

Then.

"Goodnight, Ben."

His name spoken like a caress lingered in his mind long into sleep.

Also posted on AO3

[offshore-writes-blog]

searching for a roommate: maybe also love (3/?)

soulmates!au  (part 3/?)

part 1/ part 2/

genre: angsttttt fest pairing: Mark x OC inspired by prompt: (i’ll add the link of the list when i find it) 8. “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.” 100. ”You’re my soulmate?!”

even soulmates have a hard time admitting they want each other

the next morning, i head into the shower; wanting to be quick and not bump into mark. it’s a late morning for me because i’ve started writing more and reporting less so i spend most mornings at home. i know mark goes to work around 8am so i beeline quickly but still bump into him. godddd my luck’s non-existent.

with my hair soaking with only a towel wrapped around me, i freeze; hoping he’ll ignore me. my head’s still kind of touching his chest but all he does is stand there. i don’t know. i don’t even look up at him.

“hey.” he says softly

i ignore him and continue to walk past him.

“why didn’t you eat?” mark asks because he probably sees the food he’d left for me untouched as he heads towards the front door. i can hear the hurt and when i shut my eyes cringing; i picture his face looking hurt too.

i really don’t know how to make things better between mark and i.

—— text ——

arista: hey jackSUN: this sounds ominous  what’s up arista: mark and i are having roommate issues well not really but like after our housewarming party he’s been so off and i just went off yesterday but only cus he was looking for a fight 😤😤😤 jackSUN: dont ask me he was already grouchy when i saw him arista: wtf happened at the party i was busy with the guests weren’t u two joint to the hip … wait is this a bro code thing jackSUN: i can neither confirm nor deny just think about what you were doing that night which could’ve led to mark’s “weirdness” arista:….

mark’s out in the living room when i finally step out of my room. eyes all wide, staring at me as i’ve caught him mid-bite. i freeze at my room and also just look at him. “hey.” i sit beside him

“hey.” there’s a small smile on his face as his eyes follow me. i’m trying to focus what’s on the tv. “are you hungry? i know you haven’t eaten all day.”

“it’s fine. i’m not hungry.” i lie in a mumble, eyes still on the tv.

“arista.” mark’s attempt at trying to sound stern makes me laugh a little but i try to suppress it. he catches this and nudges me. “i didn’t cook it so it’s even more delicious.”

“i love your cooking.” i mumble, pulling the couch cushion onto my lap. it’s difficult for me to look at him even more. and i am being honest but i really like mark’s cooking. even if he never adds enough salt or seasoning.

he chuckles. that sounds like my favourite thing. “you’re the only one, arista.” from the corner of my eyes, he’s smiling and rolling his eyes at me. my heart’s melting. i’m weak in the knees; thank god i’m sitting down.

“i’m sorry for what happened at the party.” i mumble as he gets up from the couch. when he hears, he pauses. his entire body freezes and head turns to me. “i don’t know what happened but i just want you, us, to be normal again.” god, i hear my own voice. i sound so sad. i don’t want mark to pity me.

“it’s okay. i was just being dumb. it’s nothing. you have nothing to be sorry about.” he says, casually and continues on his way to the kitchen to get food. for the short while he’s gone, my heart’s pounding but i can feel it in my head.

tonight, mark and i talk about that night. when we first met at the club. he details me on what happened because i’m still blurry. really, all he tells me about is how i’d asked him to come over so he could be my roommate. 

///

(flashback third person POV)

mark can’t seem to keep his eyes off of arista. his eyes keep wandering onto her; some supernatural power that keeps pulling him towards arista. when she’d come up to the table, he’d found himself frozen. like something in his head clicked but he couldn’t place what went off. he clues that she’s close to jackson and jaebum; how easily she laughs with them. with all her friends. he doesn’t know where this urge comes from but he’s silently wishing (really really badly) that he hopes he can make her laugh as easily

jennie nudges mark, noticing his gaze at arista throughout the night.

— text —

jen: r u into her?????/

mork: shut up before you draw any attention

jen: isnt she into jackson??i heard jaebum saying thatmork

mork

the incessant beeping of his phone, he finally replies; annoyed. despite the fact that the two of them are sitting together

mork: jfc JEN I SWEAR

//

as jennie yells the dare to arista, mark’s entire body feels like he’s frozen but also burning entirely too hot in anticipation to see what arista will do. he already feels his heart breaking; it seems ridiculous because he’s barely spoken to her and met her 4 hours ago.

with arista’s face so close to jaebum, mark finds himself uncomfortable. he doesn’t like what he sees. his eyes bounce from grace to jackson; who look the least shocked. they must’ve known about her feelings because the two of them almost share the uncomfortable feeling he’d been feeling but were actually showing it while mark remained stoic mostly.

he leaves a little space as arista rushes out; leaving a tense air between all of them. jaebum’s face stuck in shock; mouth slightly agape and turns to jackson.

“what the hell was that?” jaebum mumbles. mark feels bad for arista. he wishes he could feel actually bad though but a part of him is glad that jaebum doesn’t like her back. maybe that means he could talk to her. he isn’t even thinking about dating her. for now, he’s trapped in her magnetic field. she’s so powerful to him; that he just wants to talk to her; know her.

//

even from the booth, mark’s eyes tried to search for arista on the dance floor. sometimes he caught glimpses of her; dancing the night away. again, she looks so carefree and he wishes he could be a little like that. he is like that but he could never especially after what’d had just happened. 

“i’m gonna go get another round.” mark clears his throat and tells jaebum and jennie before heading to the bar.

“MARK!”

“arista!” he mimics her enthusiasm, finds himself smiling wider than he should. “are you okay?” lowering to her height, he asks into her ear. still dancing to the beat, arista’s swaying. mark finds her pout cute.

“i feel like shit! but i’m really drunk right now!” she giggles, yelling over the music so he lowers himself to her height mid-sentence.

“i think you were very brave.” he’s referring to the moment with jaebum and her but she doesn’t get it and only bounces to the music restlessly which makes hims laugh. amused, he watches her for a bit.

“hey, do you wanna be my roommate?” when he’d said brave, he really hadn’t realised that she was that brave. she barely knows him but she’s looking at him so intensely with a genuine smile, which is beyond mark’s understanding because how can a drunk person do that?

“how’d you know?” he asks. why’s he trying to have a conversation with a drunk person?

“come over saturday!!” she yells into his ear which makes him jerk. but her hands grip onto his arms tightly, jumping to the new song playing. “mark, you are absolutely beautiful.” she breathes and he cringes at the smell of alcohol on her breath.

she’s still cute though. /// “you’re a fucking psycho!” i laugh as mark finishes telling me about the night i’d drunkenly yelled into his face. practically demanding to be my roommate; not even a suggestion really. “i was so wasted and you still came.” there’s a sparkle in his eyes as he looks over at me; that teeth-showing smile making me weak.

 mark smiles for a few more moments. “i didn’t want your bravery to go to waste.” he shrugs. 

“well, thank you.” i want to hug him. i want to hold him because he’s making me feel so warm. 

“you’re my favourite roommate.” why did i just say that…… “i mean—“ i start taking my words back but he interrupts me, with his hand on my arm. 

“you are my favourite too.” he says that so genuinely. i almost believe him. god, i wanna get lost in his eyes. there’s a faint smile on his face. i feel like i forget everything when he’s there.

“so can you tell me why were you being so distant?” acutely aware of mark’s hand still on my arm, i place mine over it.

then, it’s silence.

he slowly removes his hand from me and it scares me. maybe i’d been too careless about throwing that out there. maybe he’s still not comfortable with me.

“i saw you with jaebum. out there in the balcony.” he says and i watch him, nodding for him to go on but he’s biting the corner of his lip again. “i don’t know arista. i just felt jealous. but i really don’t like you that way.” he adds the last part way too forcefully which stings a little but it doesn’t surprise me. “i guess i just forgot you had other friends beside me.”

i laugh a little. “you’re so dumb.”

“but you like dumb things.”

“right.”

i’m getting flashbacks to our first conversation in the apartment. i love dumb things.

// we go back to normal after that. whatever normal had been for us anyway. but a part of me is getting mushy feelings for mark; probably because his admission about being jealous made me like him a little bit more. (totally not in a romantic way though) it takes a lot of guts to admit ugly feelings like jealousy though and I'm glad that we’re close enough for that. so my life’s kind of getting on track, my roommate and i are friendly. more and more articles are getting assigned to me instead of on-site reporting. now, all i have to worry about is about these soulmate marks. but it doesn’t matter; a soulmate is meant to be; i don’t have to search for him. hopefully. // mark’s not home. which is weird because it’s mark? he’s always home if not at work. well, i mean he is a single guy. an attractive one. he’s bound to have some fun? i guess? it feels weird even wondering. i sigh; feeling lonely as i serve myself dinner for one. i’d also come back home a bit later than i’d anticipated, like i said, i’ve been getting more articles. so, when the lights were out at home, i’d gotten a little disappointed. 

why do i even wait up for mark? getting antsy, i start biting on my nails. like it’s completely irrational but i start getting angry at him; how could he not text and be like; “hey i’ll be night don’t wait up” okay, but the thing is, he doesn’t have to… we’re just roommates. whatever. 

i force myself to bed. he’s a big boy. despite being a heavy sleeper, i’d gone to bed on edge so i wake up to the sound of things crashing outside. normally, the apartment could be on fire and i wouldn’t realise if asleep.

i know it’s mark. instantly. without a doubt. leaning against the doorframe of my bedroom, i watch him wobble into the living room. he’s probably knocked everything in the hallway. 

mark’s eyes slowly look up to me and a sloppy slow smile forms on his face. and i notice that his eyes look sheepish as he leans on the couch for balance; still looking at me. “ari, i don’t feel so good.” he covers his mouth as he gags. 

“mark, don’t you fucking dare.” i warn, rushing beside him. even the thought of having to clean up puke is making me gag. i want to be angry but he keeps making gagging noises; looking over at me with his eyes that scream innocence. you know the ones where kids know they messed up but expect their parent to help them clean their mess up. 

so he throws up in the toilet bowl with me beside him on the floor; patting his back. but not before he threw up on himself a little before we even made it to the bathroom. surprisingly, my gag reflex hasn’t reacted as i comfort mark throughout his puking. huh, i guess he brings out another strong side to me. normally, i puke whenever i see someone else throw up. 

“arista, i can’t do this. i can’t.i can’t.” he shakes his head, teary-eyed from the constant puking. “i’m gonna dieee.” he slurs before he leans into the toilet bowl again. 

“god, mark. you’re a fucking mess.” i try not to laugh as drool edges on the corner of his lips. “c’mon,” i start unbuttoning his shirt because the smell of vomit on his shirt’s killing me. “you have to get cleaned.” 

“why are you undressing me!?” he yells a little too loudly in my face. 

i scoff. “because you threw up on yourself and i can’t sit here with you all night if you smell like that.” reasoning with a drunk is impossible but he silently agrees and lets me unbutton it; eventually taking it off himself. 

//

the next morning, i’m awake on the couch with asleep against the foot of the couch. (with a bin from my room to throw up in) awake before him, i try to slip past him to get dressed when i notice him shirtless. then, i remember that i’d helped undress him last night. now, i’m only human so i stare at him; shirtless and still slightly hugging the bin. god, he looks like an angel. everything on him looks so soft. 

crouching down to face him, i notice the mark on his chest. similar to mine. shaped like a little heart. i choke a little when i realise how similar they really are. no way. don’t be a fucking weirdo arista. thousands of people probably have similar marks. i check to see if it’s on his left. and it is. my entire body starts burning up when i realise. no way. no way. 

i always thought that there’s this show-stopping moment when you see your soulmate. like, you two just know. did i ever have a moment like that with mark? i mean, i’ve always been drawn to him? or am i just making it up in my head now because i’ve seen his mark? 

mark doesn’t even feel that way about me so there’s no reason for me to hype myself up. sometimes soulmate marks fade. like ray and mine. maybe mark and i aren’t romantic soulmates. i’m not sure how to react now that i rationalise that we may not be romantic soulmates. but it’d make more sense; we’ve always clicked. but … i’ve never wanted to kiss mark in the kitchen when we were both goofing around; cooking dinner. never. not even when we were furniture shopping and we both pointed at the same thing at the same time with the same lame joke....nope... not even then.

[thesoundofnat]

Don’t Ask, Do Tell

Tony, Rhodey

Summary: DADT gets repealed and suddenly Tony feels like he needs to come out to Rhodey, finally.

A/N: Based on this prompt from @insane-sociopath aka my super loyal prompter. I changed things a bit (I made Tony pan/bi instead of gay because that’s what I headcanon him as), but I hope you like it nevertheless!

[Read it on AO3]

Words: 2 673

Warnings: A brief mention of a 15 year old sleeping with someone who’s a few years older, alcohol consumption, underage drinking, canonical death.

September 20, 2011

Tony thought for sure he was over this perpetual urge to do it and say it and live it, but it became clearer and clearer that he wasn’t, and his old panic returned. Washed over him and overwhelmed him until he couldn’t breathe as easily anymore. But then again, when had he ever breathed freely? For as long as he could remember, that oppressing hand had been enclosing his throat.

The news had reached him when he’d been secretly scrolling the various apps on his phone during a meeting, and the only reason he hadn’t heard about it earlier was because he’d been running late that day, and no one found any reason to tell him. Probably barely knew about it themselves. But one lonesome post on Twitter brought the trending topic to his attention, and suddenly he was gaping at his phone, every thought of being discreet gone from his mind.

“Mr Stark?”

“Sounds great, Jeffrey,” he said, standing up, phone in hand, eyes on no one. “Emergency. Gotta run.” And he did. Practically leaped through the halls until he was alone. And then he allowed himself to panic, and he hadn’t stopped panicking ever since, and he wasn’t entirely sure why, though he was sure it had something to do with that old urge returning.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He thought he was over this.

But did he have to be over this? Now with the DADT having been repealed. Now that people were almost allowed to be themselves, freely. Almost.

He didn’t know a thing.

Fuck.

He drank himself to sleep that night, and then every other night of that week.

September, 1985

The alcohol he’d stolen from a guy on his floor was burning in his veins, untangling the thoughts that barely made sense when he was sober. This wasn’t the first time he’d been drunk, but it was the first time he was this drunk. He wasn’t sure if he liked it. He felt too out of control, but at the same time it felt… good. Liberating, almost.

He knew he’d probably regret this.

The hallway was full of bodies. Some he knew, some belonged to strangers, but it didn’t matter, because he smiled at every single face, and they all drunkenly grinned back. Confused, or giddy, or without a care in the world. All depending on if they knew who this random kid who had somehow managed to get into college at 15 was. Tony didn’t care if they did.

“Aren’t you a little young for whatever’s in your cup?” a guy asked, appearing in front of him out of nowhere and forcing him to stop in his tracks. He was tall. Well built. Handsome.

Tony was suddenly aware of everything about himself. How much shorter he was. How much younger and lankier and less experienced. But he still managed a smile, and fortunately the guy smiled back.

“Maybe I am,” he slurred out, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. “Are you going to tell on me?”

“Nah, I’m not a snitch,” the guy said, leaning against the wall. All smirks and head tilts. “Besides, not drinking at college is a crime.”

Tony nodded, maybe a little too eagerly. “That I’ve heard.”

“I guess it’s not hard finding any booze here, even if it is MIT.”

“It was surprisingly easy.”

And everything else became blurry after that, but when Tony woke up it was in an unfamiliar dorm room in an unfamiliar bed with a semi familiar guy beside him, and he never told anyone about it.

That was the first time he slept with a man, though not the last.

September 28, 2011

He had to tell Rhodey. That was the first thought to cross his mind when he woke up to the usual hangover. The notion brought a fresh wave of panic, and he was sure his exhausted body and weary brain wouldn’t be able to take this much longer. And that was exactly why he should just tell him. Get it over with. Rip off the bandaid before the wound became infected.

It didn’t make it any easier.

Rhodey didn’t ask why he’d suddenly invited him over in the middle of the week. Could probably see it on him that something was up. Wrong, even. All Tony knew was that his friend entered his home wearing a mask; a mask covering up the concern that Tony’s mask that was covering up his panic had caused. Maybe they both needed to stop investing in masks.

“Do you want a drink?” Tony asked, his back already turned to him, his feet already steering him toward the liquor cabinet.

“If it’s not too much of a bother,” came Rhodey’s reply, and when Tony returned with two glasses of whiskey on the rocks he was sitting on the couch, looking more tired than he would probably admit to.

Tony handed him his glass and they drank.

“So how have you been?” he asked, desperate for some normalcy, because in his brain everything had turned upside down.

“Busy,” Rhodey said, staring at a spot on the wall across from him for a brief moment before turning toward Tony. “It’s the season, you know? You’d think it would be different once we’d graduated, but autumn always hits you in the face even if you’ve spent all summer working.”

Tony raised his glass. “Amen to that.”

“I’m just trying to take it one day at a time, I guess. What about you?”

“I think people want me to be doing the opposite of that.”

“Let me guess. You don’t.”

“I’d love to take everyday as it comes, but you know I can’t. Despite what they say I always overthink it.”

“They don’t have to know.”

“No. They’re fun to mess with, so please refrain from telling them.”

“I will try my best.”

Tony took another sip, his nerves all over the place, though Rhodey merely kept his glass in his hand. Tony wasn’t sure if he wanted him to drink or not.

He cleared his throat. “I think you’ve realized I didn’t ask you to come for no reason.”

“I sort of figured.”

“Truth is I have something I want to tell you. Something I probably should’ve told you twenty years ago.”

Rhodey’s confused eyes met his own and Tony knew there was no turning back.

August 5, 1995

The last thing Tony thought he’d experience when he woke up that morning was Rhodey almost catching him in bed with another guy. It was summer. Hot. Humid. So very L.A. And of course that meant a parade of pretty people found their way into Tony’s home and occasionally bed, though Tony was a man rarely left alone, so he kept the amount of men he slept with to a minimum.

But sometimes they were invited inside, and sometimes things went down. He couldn’t remember this particular guy’s name, and neither of them cared, but with the midday sun forcing its way into the bedroom through the small opening of the curtains, and Tony’s phone going off as if someone died (a joke of poor taste, he had to admit), it became harder and harder to ignore the world, and Tony ended up growling almost angrily when he answered the phone. “What?”

“Wake up, sleeping beauty. I’m outside, let me in.”

It was Rhodey. Of course. Hanging up without affirming or even saying goodbye, Tony turned to the guy who unfairly and unsurprisingly looked just as handsome in daylight and said, “You gotta leave.”

He’d snuck people out before. He’d never had to, but it was almost a part of the game to pretend to be coy about it, and he’d enjoyed leading girls out the back way while grinning and promising he’d call. It had been fun.

This wasn’t fun.

The guy was excruciatingly slow about getting dressed, and insisted on using the bathroom before making the twenty minute drive into town. Tony couldn’t blame him, but in his panic he could do nothing but become exasperated.

“Okay, but hurry!” he snapped, pulling on his own clothes from the previous night after deeming them decent enough for a Saturday out here. “Look, there’s this door just before the kitchen. It leads you to the backyard. Use it. Do not pass the kitchen, because it will lead you to the living room where we will be sitting. And for all that is holy, be quiet.” Maybe whisper yelling all this into the bathroom door while the guy tried to go about his business wasn’t the best option, but he was desperate.

When Tony entered the hallway Rhodey was banging on the door, and something told him he’d been doing it for a while.

“What took you so long?” Rhodey asked once he’d let him in.

“Sorry, I was sleeping when you called,” Tony said in his own defense. “I barely knew how to use my legs until a minute ago.”

“Rough night I presume.”

Tony shot him a grin he hoped was less panicked than he was feeling. “Always.”

Rhodey didn’t look amused. Ever since Tony’s parents had died almost four years earlier his friend did everything to help him, and for the past year he kept referring to pretty much anything Tony did as bad habits he used as coping mechanisms. And maybe he was right, but Tony refused to sit around on his ass with nothing but his grief. He’d done that enough already.

“You know, maybe if you tagged along sometimes you’d have some fun too while simultaneously keeping an eye on me.” Tony gave his chest a light slap. “Everyone wins.”

“You think my goal in life is to babysit you?”

“Obviously.”

“Tones-”

“Do you want anything? Something to drink? Some-”

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“Didn’t you hear that?”

Tony forced his voice to remain calm. “Hear what?”

“It sounded like a door being shut or something.” Rhodey’s expression suddenly changed. “Someone’s here, aren’t they?”

Play along, Stark. Rhodey had no reason to suspect it was a guy. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He tried to make his smug grin tell a different story, and Rhodey was rolling his eyes instantly.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Hey, I’m not the one barging in midday on a Saturday. And at least I’m getting laid.”

“I get laid too, you know.”

“I need evidence, Rhodey.”

“Did you at least get a number?”

“Dunno. You sort of forced me to kick them- her out quickly.” If Rhodey noticed his near miss he didn’t comment on it.

“Will you ever treat people nicely?”

“Maybe when I’m old and gray. And hey, they don’t complain when I’ve got them-”

“Don’t wanna know, Tones.”

Tony crumpled up the note with the phone number he found in his bedroom an hour later the moment he caught sight of it.

September 28, 2011

“Tony, you-” Rhodey cut himself off. Placed his glass on the coffee table and tried again. “You don’t have to tell me anything unless you want to.”

“I do want to.”

“But you look like you’re gonna pass out.”

Tony couldn’t help the smile from finding his lips. Weak. Tired. Terrified. “I think it’ll be worse if I don’t tell you. I need you to know. I need you to finally know.”

“This sounds serious.”

“It is. Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe I’ve just been overthinking it.”

“For twenty years.”

“I think it’s closer to twentysix actually.”

Rhodey ran a hand over his face. “You’ve been carrying something big around for twentysix years? Why haven’t you told me earlier?”

“It wasn’t relevant back then. Or appropriate.”

“Tony, what-”

“Please just-” Tony exhaled loudly, finally looking away from him. “Just let me say it. If I don’t say it today I never will.”

Rhodey didn’t reply, but Tony could feel his gaze on him. Could feel his undivided attention and concern and patience. Tony couldn’t help but feel as if everything would change once he told him.

Tony sat up straighter, scooting forward on the couch as if preparing himself to run. Maybe he could utter those words he’d never told a soul and then make a run for it. That would certainly be memorable - though, of course, just the simple confession would be memorable on its own.

How could it not?

“Truth is,” Tony started and regretted it immediately. He hadn’t been lying about his attraction to women all these years. It just happened to not be the only direction his desires travelled in.

He cleared his throat and restarted. “It’s about my, uh, orientation.”

“Orientation?”

“It’s a bit all over the place.”

“That… makes no sense.”

“Rhodey, I’m not straight.”

I was funny how words that had been stuck in your throat your entire life could leave your lips so easily.

October, 1986

“I know you’re young,” Rhodey said, even though the bastard was only two years older. “But you cannot tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“Marriage? Kids? No, I cannot say I have, Rhodey, my friend.”

“Never? Not once?”

Tony shook his head, utterly amused and very unsure of how this conversation had started. “Do you walk around picturing your dream wife or something?”

“Sometimes,” Rhodey said, somewhat defensively. “And sometimes I see a girl who just looks so good that I almost want to propose on the spot.”

“You’re kidding me.”

Rhodey grinned. “Okay, a little bit. But seriously.” He gave Tony’s arm a light slap. “You never talk about girls with me. And don’t tell me it’s because you’re too young or busy. I’ve seen you return early in the morning in your rendition of a walk of shame. But you never want to discuss it.”

Tony’s heart was suddenly attempting to escape from his ribcage. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“But you’re not a shy guy. It’s almost as if you’re afraid to tell me or something. You always act as if nothing happened, which I don’t get.”

Okay, Tony was definitely right behind his fleeing heart. “Don’t you think we have bigger things to do than talk about that?”

“See? That’s my point exactly. It’s like you’re ashamed.”

Tony brought his knees up where he was sitting on the floor, hugging them tightly to his chest as if it would help. As if he could hide. “I’m not ashamed.”

Rhodey looked concerned now. “Did you parents ever speak to you about this? I know you don’t need help, but possibly guidelines-”

“Rhodey. Drop it.”

Rhodey did.

September 28, 2011

“I’m not straight,” he repeated, as if to test the phrase out again. “I’m not gay either, but I know I’m not only attracted to women.”

Rhodey didn’t say anything, which was almost worse than if he’d started screaming.

“I guess I just wanted you to know,” Tony continued, wishing he could get into the suit and fly away forever. Wishing he had enough guts to leave Rhodey forever.

“Hey,” came Rhodey’s reply at last. “Look at me.” He didn’t look mad when Tony did. In fact, Tony couldn’t exactly pinpoint how he looked. “It’s okay, please don’t look so scared.”

“Can’t help it,” Tony said, falling into the habit of laying every emotion out in the open when it came to his friend.

“I don’t- I don’t hate you or whatever it is you’re scared of,” Rhodey continued. “I don’t mind, you know? As long as you’re happy you can be with whomever you want to.”

So it had been that easy. Barely three words and Rhodey still accepted him with open arms. Twentysix years of anguish for nothing. Tony wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry.

“You have no idea how good it feels to hear that,” he breathed out, averting his eyes and shaking his head in disbelief. “I knew you weren’t close minded or anything, but you never know, you know?”

“Come here, you nerd.”

Tony never knew a hug could fix all the broken pieces inside him, albeit for only a moment.

[choco-chip-cookie]

SugarDaddy!Cal Pt. 6

A/N: Once again thank you guys for all of the wonderful feedback, and I’m so glad that you all like it. This was kind of just a quick lil filler until the next chapter which I’mma probably start working on tomorrow. I’m taking Saturday off to binge watch the whole 13 Reasons Why series so if it’s not up in time you know why. Hope you all enjoy! 💕                                          

**Warning** Nothing at all, just cute fluffiness kind of?

One/ Two/ Three/ Four/Five/Six/Seven/Eight/ Nine/Ten/Eleven/Twelve/Thirteen/Fourteen/Fifteen Sixteen/ Seventeen/ Eighteen/ Nineteen/Twenty{END}

"Y/N! I lost Connor." Felix groaned as he made his way over to you.

"How long ago?"

"I dunno, like five to ten." He sighed, knowing that the fashion guru could practically be anywhere in the mall at this point. You'd be surprised at how fast the sun kissed boy could move." He said something about a fifty percent off sale."

"No telling where that boy ran off to. Here, help me with this." You then held up a dress and a skirt."Which one?"

"Uh...I wanna say the skirt because this is a pretty peach color, but the dress is gorgeous."

"Cute gorgeous or thotish gorgeous?"

"Thotish, definitely."

"Exactly what I'm looking for." You smiled and Felix let out a laugh, shaking his head at you.

"Trying to purposely look like a hoe?"

"Nah, but Connor told me to buy something slutty for tonight."

"Ah, I see." He began to scan through the clothing rack, a smile on his face as he thought about what a mess his lover was. "Connor is insane."

"Yeah, but that's why we love him." You giggled out, checking the price tag on the dress and sighing.

After spending the past month with Calum, you've grown to stop checking price tags at this point. No matter what the price was he always told you the same phrase: "Don't worry about the price, I'm gonna get it anyway." . Usually he was there to pay what you thought was an insane amount of money, but this time you were all on your own. Now you regretting coming into this expensive store thinking that your pockets were flooded.

"How much?"

"Three hundred and fifty."

"Whoa, okay."  Felix was quick to take the dress out of your hand, but as he went to put it back on the rack, he was startled by a loud voice.

"That's cute? Why are you putting it back?" Connor snatched the dress out of Felix's hand and placed it back into yours.

"It's damn near four hundred for something so not worth it." Felix answered for you and Connor smacked his lips.

"So? Mr. Rockstar will take care of it."

"Yeah, but he's not here." You sighed.

"Well give him a call, get his credit card number."

"Connor, he's not my husband. " you laughed lightly."I have no right in knowing his card information."

"I'll be damned if we leave this store without you asking him first. The boy likes you and he's your sugar daddy, hun. I'm positive he'll give you his information."

Connor pulled your iPhone out of your pocket and unlocked it with his fingerprint. He then went to your messages to find Calum's contact, laughing when he saw his contact name was "Zaddy🍆💸". (A/N:It’s a eggplant and money emoji for people that’s not on mobile lmao)

"You're somethin' else,girl. Here."

You quickly retrieved the phone, biting on your bottom lip nervously. You shifted your weight between each leg as the phone rung, waiting for the voice you loved to hear so much come through.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Cal." You smiled and you instantly heard his voice perk up. You could just tell he was smiling through the phone.

"Hey, princess. How are you?"

"Good, how's your day been?"

"It's been slow, but great. Wassup?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm just out shopping with Connor and Felix and I came at across this dress..." you trailed.

Connor and Felix had began to giggle as they noticed that you were grinning and twirling like a kid. They came to the conclusion that you had it bad for him.

"Mmhmm?" Calum hummed for you to continue, already knowing where this was going.

"And I kind of need this dress for tonight, but it's three fifty..."

"And you really like this dress, don't you?"

"It's really cute." You said in a promising tone, letting him know that you really wanted it.

"You called for my credit card information didn't you?"

"I did. I hope it's not a problem! I'm sorry if I overstepped-"

"Calm down, Y/N." he laughed at your panicked state."I can't be there every time you want something, it was bound to happen anyway. Just don't go over board, alright? Let me know when you're gonna buy something, yeah?"

"Yes, daddy." You smirked, knowing that name got to him.

"Oooh, girl." Connor laughed quietly, lightly fan girling over the two. Felix simply shook his head and shushed the shorter boy, wrapping a muscular arm around his waist.

"Fuck, don't tease me." Calum groaned through the speaker.

"I'm not teasing."

"I'll text you the info, sweetheart."

"Okay, thanks, Cal."

"You're welcome, babygirl."

Not even a couple of minutes later did his information come through and you were on your way to the register to checkout, your favorite two boys right behind you.

"Another round of shots!" Connor shouted to the small group of people and they all cheered, dashing to the kitchen like mad men.

Connor had invited you out to some crazy college party in a sorority house on campus and to say you were drunk and enjoying yourself was an understatement. You could hardly stand up straight and had a smile on your face from the moment you walked into the place. You danced on and with multiple people and took more shots than you could count. You knew you were going to be so hung over tomorrow that you couldn't stand it, but hey? You're supposed to live in the moment, right?

"Y/N, looks like you need another drink." Connor nearly tripped walking over to you with the shot glass in his hand, giggling at himself for being clumsy." Drink up!"

You downed the shot quickly, loving the burn it left down your throat. The two of you had began dancing together, Connor laughing loudly as you bent over forwards and placed your hands on your knees to twerk on him. He smacked your butt a couple of times and the two of you laughed even harder. A guy soon took Connors place and now you were twerking and grinding against a complete stranger, biting your lip as he kissed your neck. You brought your arm around the back of your head to wrap around his neck as he trailed kisses up and down your jaw, biting your lip as he did so. You then turned around after deciding to kiss him, but you were suddenly yanked backwards, nearly falling on your ass.

"What the hell is this?!"

"Calum?" You furrowed your eyebrows, but a grin soon made its way onto your face."What are you doing here, babe?"

"Hey,man, I had her first." The stranger reached over and grabbed at your waist ,but Calum pushed him with all his strength and knocked the guy flat on his ass.

"Don't touch her!"

"Dude, what the hell?!"

"She's mine, back the fuck off." Calum practically growled and the guy finally stood down, walking towards the bar to get another drink.

"Cal, baby. You don't look like you're having too much fun." You pouted, poking his cheek and he smacked your hand away.

"Let's go, Y/N."

"Ai ai, Captain Hood." You giggled as you saluted and he led you out of the bar. You winked at Connor when you passed by him and the blonde boy laughed.

"That's my girl! Get some, Y/N, whooo!"

Calum simply shook his head as he heard his loud voice over the music and put you into the passengers seat of his car. The drive was silent besides Calum frustratingly telling you not to do something every few minutes.You were so drunk, that on the ride to his place, you opened the car door while he was driving and nearly fell out. You also began grabbing at his pants and Calum was beyond annoyed with you. It was mainly due to being extremely jealous, his blood practically boiling from the sight of that guy touching you. What also had the boy heated was the fact that you seemed be enjoying his touch. He was glad he had seen you drunkenly dancing with guys on Snapchat and even more glad that Felix knew where you were. Who knows what would've happened if he hadn't showed up.

"Come on,Y/N." he sighed once he arrived to his shared home. He held your hand as you stepped out of the car and his head fell back onto his neck as you collapsed, loud laughter emanating from your mouth.

"My legs don't work." You laughed as you sat on the cool concrete."Calum, my-my legs don't work." You repeated yourself, tugging on the leg of his basketball shorts.

He let out a puff of air and bent down to throw you over his shoulder and he couldn't help but to let a small smile make it's way onto his face when you let out a squeal.

"I'm flying!"

"Y/N, shhh." He begged, hoping that you didn't wake the neighbors."You have to be quiet, okay?" "Okay."

He quietly thanked God that you finally stopped talking and struggled to get the correct key to unlock the house.

"Calum, is that you?" Michael came around the corner, stopping in his tracks as he saw the girl wiggling over his shoulder."I was going to ask where you ran off to but uhh...?"

"Hi, I'm Y/N!" You giggled, not even being able to see who this person was, but still introduced yourself.

"Hi?"

"I'm gonna put her to bed and we can finish the game, okay?"

"Yeah, I guess..."

As Calum passed his confused friend, you waved at him and Michael laughed and returned the wave. Once you got into Calum's room he placed you on the bed and began to remove your shoes. He listened to you attempt to tell him a story from when you took a road trip and got lost, occasionally replying to you since this was the calmest he’d gotten you all night.

"Arms up."

"No, you're gonna tickle me!"  You exclaimed and Calum snorted.

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are!"

"I promise I'm not."

You looked hesitant at first but cautiously held you arms in the air, flinching when he reached to grab the end of your dress. When you were left only in your panties, since you decided earlier a bra would ruin the outfit, you gave Calum your "sexy" face and he laughed loudly.

"What is that?"

"Are we gonna fuck?"

"No, Y/N. You're drunk out of your mind."

"But I think I want to anyway."

"Maybe tomorrow." He pulled off his shirt and held it to you, motioning for you to put it on.

"Nuh uh."

"Please."Calum begged, just wanting to hurry and get you tucked into bed so he could continue playing Fifa with Michael.

"Are you gonna fuck me?"

"No."

"Then no." You crossed your arms and turned your nose up into the air childishly.

Calum was so over it at this point. Who knew that you were a child when you were wasted, yet he couldn't help but to find the situation funny as well. When you grabbed his hand and placed it on your breast he held back a smile as you both locked eyes. You were impossible to deal with.

"I'm not." He denied, removing his hand. Calum swiftly pulled the shirt over your head and then tucked you into bed, making sure you were comfortable." I'm going downstairs, okay? Get some sleep."

"No, stay." You gripped his hand, tugging him towards you."

"But Michael's waiting on me, princess."

"Please."

Calum groaned and climbed in beside you, allowing you to place your head onto his chest. He pushed your massive bush of coily strands away from his face and rest his hand on your butt, kneading it softly. Calum began to hum an unknown tune lowly since he knew this was one of the quickest ways to get you to sleep. He placed a kiss to your forehead and smiled to himself, knowing that there was no other place he'd rather be than in this moment with you.

[youlovelythief]

gifts to Aphrodite

summary: Tatsuki and Orihime grow together.

pairing: orihime/tatsuki

notes: listen i know the post-686 ishihime angst is real but i thirst for tatsuhime so bad. tatsuhime was real too and we deserved tats and orihime living together post-graduation. instead all we got was forced rukia-orihime BFF shoved down our throats and NO THANK U. so here. i am more than willing to write the only tatsuhime post-686 angst fic out there. i accept my fate. also there is a second part to this / 694 words

Tatsuki says, “I want you to have everything you need in life.”

 It is spring, and they are twenty-two.

It has been eight years since a group of girls cut off Orihime’s hair in the middle school bathroom, since Tatsuki joined the judo club.

It has been six years since Orihime’s hairpins began to glow and Tatsuki began to see ghosts.

It has been four years since the war.

Three since they decided to move in together, broke college students just trying to keep living in Tokyo. Just trying to keep going.

One year since Orihime leaned over their kitchen tabletop in sweatpants and a coffee-stained t-shirt, a year since Tatsuki leaned in too, smelling like soap and deodorant and the leftover curry they’d ordered yesterday. A year since a kiss and laugh and nothing really changing but everything shifting.

Everything shifting, and everything looking like it’d be okay.

  Orihime sleeps with Kurosaki-kun because relationships aren’t just kissing and laughing at one in the morning, and hers with Tatsuki is no different.

Orihime sleeps with Kurosaki-kun because that’s what happens when two good friends decide to say fuck all to studying for anatomy and physiology and go out for a drink for the first time since starting medical school.

Orihime sleeps with Kurosaki-kun because Tatsuki is traveling for judo and their apartment, for all its Saturday morning pancakes and blankets on the couch and days recounted in front of the TV—their apartment gets lonely for weeks and stays lonely.

Orihime sleeps with Kurosaki-kun, and they agree it means nothing. She’d stopped loving him years ago, and he’d been thinking of moving to Soul Society for his gap year. Sober, he’d thought maybe two years. Drunkenly, he’d declared he would “stay for fucking good if that goddamn midget would just ‘fess up already.”

Orihime dresses and goes home. She zips her jacket all the way up to her chin against the December morning.

  She tells Tatsuki when she comes home, and forgiveness is not a road they’ve ever really had to walk before, but they do. It takes months, but eventually Tatsuki lets her back into their bed, and by this time winter has come and gone, and Orihime’s medical school graduation is coming up. It’s her last semester. She is in love with Tatsuki. They might even be—maybe, hopefully, wistfully—getting engaged. The snow has melted, and everything is shifting again, but Orihime can’t quite see it yet.

She’s looking so far up that she doesn’t see the porcelain bowl right under her nose. 6:30AM, every day. Like clockwork.

After two weeks, the remnants of her buttered toast floating in blue toilet water is unavoidable. Orihime’s not stupid. Just in denial.

She huddles next to the bathroom sink, long auburn hair pressed to her face, wet with toilet water, wet with tears.

She was this close to becoming a doctor.

  Orihime crumples in Tatsuki’s arms on a Sunday morning two months before her graduation date.

And Tatsuki—where she should have been anger and clenched fists and burning eyes and everything else she is on the mat—

Tatsuki holds her. Tatsuki looks down at her like a child holding the pieces of a broken toy.

 Later, Tatsuki sits in the laundry room, judo uniform slipping through her hands.

She lets it fall to the floor, unwashed. It smells like dust and chalk and sweat and tough plastic mats—smells like her high school gym, though she’s been training at a professional gym since college. Tatsuki thumbs the belt still looped loosely around the waist band, runs a finger down the collar. Clenches the white cloth in her fist.

She remembers joining judo club. Fourteen and angry. Remembers the way she had clumsily fought those girls, hair pulling and kicking and screaming. She’d wanted something more concrete—she’d wanted to turn her body into a shield.

She’d wanted to protect Orihime.

She can’t protect her from this.

  Tatsuki says, “I want you to have everything you need in life. I want you to be happy.”

Orihime more than understands.

  Kurosaki-kun graduates. He doesn’t go to Soul Society.

They agree on a summer wedding.

[aperfectsummerrae]

Drunk and Conceited

INVOLVED: Summer Sanders and Ellie Rose (with an appearance by Wynter Sanders) TIME FRAME: Saturday, May 16 into May 17, 2020 LOCATION: Sanders-Rose Home; Los angeles, California SUMMARY: Summer comes into the house, stumbling and drunk off her ass, with the help of Jasmine. The two accidentally wake Ellie and pissing Ellie off for various reasons. The events of the previous night roll over into the next day, causing a bit of tension between Summer and Ellie.

Summer giggled like mad as she stumbled up the walkway, gripping into Jasmine tightly. “Shh,” she said as she stepped heavily in her thigh high heeled boots. “Don’t wake ‘em up,” she said loudly, though she thought she was whispering.

Jasmine pursed her lips as she moved with Summer up her walkway, dragging her along. She rolled her eyes at her friend as she moved towards the door. “Hush,” she said as she opened Summer’s clutch and pulled out the woman’s keys. “You’re drunk,” she said as she balanced holding Summer and getting the door open.

Summer closed her eyes as they reached the door and she leaned, laying her head against Jasmine’s shoulder. “I am not,” she hiccupped, opening her eyes, but they were very low and heavy.

“Girl, shut up,” Jasmine said as she opened the door and moved Summer into the house, trying to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to wake anyone up. She walked with Summer over to the couch, laying the drunk woman down on it. “There you’re home safely,” she said, more or less to herself.

Ellie laid in bed fast asleep; she shifted beneath the covers rolling over as she stretched out across the large bed. She snuggled up against her pillows, hearing the front door chime, and she slowly opened her eyes. She shifted turning on her stomach as she looked at the time on the clock before she rolled her eyes a bit. Pushing herself up on her hands, she pushed loose locs out of her face as she raised up slowly rubbing her eyes in the dark. She slid from the bed, padding through the room she grabbed her robe and slid into her slippers, tying the robe close. She walked out the room, down their stairs, and towards the noise. Seeing Jasmine and an intoxicated Summer, she folded her arms, “good night?” she asked Jasmine no less.

Summer laid out on the couch, her short dress rising as she stretched her long body out, her shoes on the couch as well. “Shhh,” she hushed Jasmine again, “she has bionic ears,” she slurred in a loud whisper as she scrubbed her hand down her face drunkenly before she heard Ellie’s voice in the dark and she said, “told you…” as she rolled over, nuzzling her body into the couch cushions.

Jasmine placed Summer’s clutch on the coffee table, along with the woman’s house and car keys. Hearing Ellie behind her, she pursed her lips, glaring at Summer before she turned. Looking at Ellie, Jasmine nodded with a forced smile. “Yeah…” she said, “Summer just had a few too many shots of Tequila,” she told Ellie easily before she began to back away, “I was just making sure she got home okay; her cars in the driveway,” she said as she began to back away, pointing towards the door, “got to go, Taylor is waiting on me…” she said quickly.

Ellie looked at Jasmine taking her in and she nodded her head before she looked at Summer. “Thanks,” she told the woman whom she didn’t quite have a feel for as of yet. She followed behind her to make sure she locked the door and activated the alarm when she let her out. “Next time, if need be, you can call me,” Ellie said holding the door for Jasmine to walk out of.

Jasmine moved for the door, tugging her tight dress down her thighs a bit as she did. “It’s no problem. I’ve been lugging her home since high school,” she said with a slight shrug. Stepping out the door, Jasmine eyed Ellie and she nodded, “got it,” she said easily, knowing that she probably never would call Ellie. Summer got so drunk tonight because of Ellie, there was no way she was calling her. Who knows what Summer might say at peak drunkenness. “You have a good night,” she said as she made her way to Taylor’s car, who was waiting at the curb to take her home since Summer had picked her up.

Summer let out a drunken snore as she laid face first on the couch, her makeup smudging and smearing against the material.

Ellie looked at Jasmine, nodding her head and she said again, “thank you,” to her as she left out of the home. She watched her as she moved down the walkway and she closed the door behind her, rolling her eyes gently at the thought of the brown skin girl. She locked the door and set the alarm in the home before she turned. She moved towards Summer and saw her laid out on their couch, she huffed. “Summer,” she said chastising the woman without thought. “Really?” she asked her as she unzipped her boots and tugged them off, checking the couch for any possible stains from her shoes. She dropped them to the ground before she moved closer to the woman, seeing her smearing her makeup covered face on the couch and she growled lowly. She wanted to smack the fuck out of her as she sat down on the coffee table before her taking her in. “You don’t have an off button,” she spoke quietly more so to herself than anyone else. “This is what I have to deal with,” she said as she tilted her head, she cracked her neck with her hand inhaling deeply.

Summer grunted softly as Ellie said her name and she shifted on the couch, bending one leg at the knee as she adjusted her body. Feeling Ellie pull off her boots, she let out a sigh of relief in her sleep state. Her feet had been killing her from dancing all night long. As per usual, the Gala started off very classy and collected as people mingled, spoke about their talents, donated money, and everything else. However, by about 10PM, all of the class went out the window as the bartenders began getting heavy handed with the drinks. “Hmm?” she mumbled softly, turning her body to face Ellie as she reached her hand out, placing it on Ellie’s knee, trying to pull the woman close to her.

Ellie took Summer in as she moved her hand to her knee. “My big ass won’t fit on there with you, either come to bed, girl, or you down here on your own tonight,” she breathed out to the woman in a tone that wouldn’t cause her any discomfort. “You ruined my couch,” she breathed as she moved to stand up from the table, resting her hand on her hips with a shake of her head.

Summer groaned out at Ellie’s words and she opened her eyes slowly, they were low in the darkness as she whined slightly. “Ellie,” she murmured dramatically as she moved to stand up. Summer continued to reach for her, grabbing at the air now as she huffed. Pushing against the couch now, she pulled herself up slowly, her long hair in her face slightly, despite her high ponytail. Standing up slowly, she stumbled slightly.

“Come on,” Ellie said as she watched her get up on her own, she was a grown woman and she had caused this upon herself after all. She watched her stand and she sighed, part of her would always want to help her in any way she could so she grabbed her hand and began to lead her towards their bedroom.

Summer leaned against Ellie as the woman took her hand and she wrapped her arm around Ellie’s frame. Her feet moved slowly and she tripped over them a few times as Ellie led the way. Shrinking her body some, Summer rested her head against Ellie’s shoulder as they climbed the steps, one by one.

Ellie looked at Summer and she dropped her hand wrapping an arm around the woman’s waist as they moved through the large house. She flicked a light on for Summer’s sake as they moved up the steps to their bedroom. One by one they moved until they reached the top and she turned the light off moving for their room. Once inside she closed the door and moved to sit Summer down on the bed gently. “Here let me take this off of you,” she told the woman as she reached around to unzip the dress on the woman’s body, so that she could take it off and change into something else for the night.

Summer squinted, her eyes burning as Ellie turned on the light, and she groaned. Allowing Ellie to lead her into the bedroom, Summer sat down on the bed, her head spinning. Looking at Ellie, Summer lifted her arms up, so that Ellie could take the dress off of her body. Blinking slowly, Summer giggled and said, “and don’t try s-s-seduce me either,” her words slurred.

Ellie looked at Summer, hearing her words, she rolled her eyes so hard at the woman and shook her head. “I should be telling you that,” she said, eyes flashing at her. She tugged the dress up over the woman’s head and placed it at the end of the bed before she moved to grab Summer a t-shirt. She walked back over and pulled it down over her head, pushing her hair back before she held it open for Summer to put her arms through.

Summer snorted softly, laughing a bit as Ellie tugged the dress over her head. With it off, she let out a sigh of relief as she unhooked her bra and tossed it aside, feeling much better and free. As Ellie returned to her with a t-shirt, she smiled crookedly as she pushed her arms through the holes. “You’re so good to me,” she murmured once the shirt was on and she wrapped her arms around Ellie’s waist, laying her head on Ellie’s stomach.

Ellie looked at Summer as she wrapped her up and she said, “you are good to me too baby,” as she patted her back a bit. “I need to get you some aspirin,” she told her softly. She separated them both as she moved to grab her some tablets from the bathroom, when she left there, she moved towards the door moving back downstairs after she glanced at Summer. She moved to the kitchen trying to navigate the new home in the dark, so that she would get her a bottle of water.

Summer smiled softly, nodding her head at Ellie a bit until the woman pulled away from her. “Mhmmm,” she hummed as she sat there. Slowly she began to lay back and she curled her long body up against the bed as Ellie moved downstairs. With a hum, Summer sat up slowly and began to pull her high ponytail down, relieving the stress against her scalp. She tossed the hair tie aside and moaned as she massaged her head with her fingers as she stood up. She walked over to their fireplace and began to fiddle with it, turning it on before she stumbled back over to the bed, laying down face first.

Ellie opened the fridge and grabbed a Fiji water bottle before she moved back through the house in the dark and moved for the steps. She used her hands to navigate herself before she moved for the bedroom and she noticed the fireplace on causing her to sigh again. It wasn’t that cold in the home, however, she moved to Summer as the woman laid face down. “Summer,” she said as she placed the water bottle off to the side, turning to look at her. “For the love of God,” she said harshly as she moved to their bathroom for a makeup remover wipe. “I am going to fucking kill her,” she said to herself as she grabbed one and moved back into the room.

Summer laid against the covers, her face buried in them as she let out a deep, rumbling, drunken snore. Her legs hung off the bed slightly as she laid there, looking almost like a chalk outline. As Ellie spoke out, Summer rubbed her face against the covers slightly, shifting her body.

Ellie looked at Summer and she sat the tablets on the nightstand along with the pack of wipes. “Summer, please get up. You are getting makeup everywhere, Jesus Christ,” she said desperately tired now, it was three in the morning and right now she truly didn’t have the time.

Summer heard Ellie and she groaned as she pulled herself up slowly, blinking hard as she stared at Ellie. “I’m sorry,” she said, whining slightly, as she poked her bottom lip out at Ellie. “You’re always mad at me,” she mumbled sadly as she dropped her eyes, looking down.

Ellie looked at Summer and she sighed at her, that wasn’t the case in her mind. She grabbed a wipe and moved for Summer, crawling up in the bed dropping her shoes off her feet as she did. She began to clean her face gently, she used the wipe to clear the debris as best as she could, the woman needed to wash her face, but she knew better. “I’m not,” she said as she cleaned what was left on her face with the woman's wipe and she licked her lips as she did. She moved to toss the wipe in the trash before she washed her hands clean in the bathroom, she dried them off. She grabbed a washcloth and wet it with warm water, getting a little unscented bar of soap and lathering it up before she moved to Summer. She cleaned her face a little more with the cloth with a heavy sigh.

Pouting, Summer grunted softly as Ellie began to clean her face and she closed her eyes, her arms wrapping around the woman once more as she sat there. As Ellie pulled away from her, she dropped her arms like dead weights about to lay back down when Ellie returned, wiping her face with a cloth towel. “Mmm,” she groaned.

Ellie got what was left on the surface of the woman’s face off and she sat the cloth aside as she offered her the pills and the bottle of water. “Here, take this and I’ll be back,” she said untwisting the cap and offering it to Summer, “be careful,” she added to her. After doing so she grabbed the cloth and the wipes moving back to the bathroom, she hung the cloth up and placed the wipes up where they went. She then turned the bathroom light off and took her robe off, draping it over a chair. She moved back over to the bed and Summer.

Summer grunted and groaned as Ellie wiped her face with the warm towel and when she was finally done, she let out a hiccup. Taking the tablets, she tossed them into her mouth before she sipped some of the water, swallowing them down. She leaned over, sitting the bottle on the nightstand before she crawled under the covers tiredly.

Ellie watched the girl get under the covers and she did the same in the silk teddy she had on. She sighed as she rolled onto her side, facing the bedroom door and she closed her eyes gently one more. Hopefully she’d be able to go back to sleep and get some decent rest considering.

As Ellie got under the covers with her, Summer turned and snuggled up to Ellie’s thick body, wrapping her arm around the woman tightly and pulling her close. She let out a small snore as she got comfortable.

<hr>

Summer groaned softly as she rolled over in the bed, pressing her hands into her eyes as she did. She had a mild headache and she was burning up. Huffing softly, she rolled in the bed once more, reaching for her phone on the nightstand. However, when she didn’t feel it, she peeled her eyes open slowly, squinting at the empty space. “Where’s my phone,” she grumbled to herself.

Ellie scrubbed her skin clean under the warm water in their shower, she had planned on going to the shop today but she decided against it. She had an eternal alarm clock, so she was up right now but much rather been in bed. She ran the loofah over her skin humming to herself as she washed away all of the sweaty and sticky feeling she felt thanks to Summer and the damn fireplace throughout the night.

Summer sighed out and pulled herself from the bed, picking up the discarded t-shirt from the floor. She slid it on and groaned softly, placing her hand on her forehead. Blinking hard, she took a deep breath, murmuring to herself, “fucking tequila.” Dragging her feet, she rubbed her hand through her messy hair, massaging her scalp a bit as she moved out of the room and down the steps. She walked into the living room, picking up her clutch and pulling her phone out. She stood there in a t-shirt and her thong as she scrolled her phone, messy hair hiding her face a bit.

Ellie continued to bathe herself gently in the shower and when she was done, she turned it off and climbed out, towel wrapped around her body. She moved to pat herself dry a little bit and before she re-tied the towel and moved to the sink to finish her morning routine. She began brushing her teeth in the mirror, tucking a loose dread back up into the bun on her head as she allowed the electric toothbrush to work in her mouth.

Summer responded to a text message from Jasmine and another from Taylor, then a few of their donors asking questions about the studio before she tossed her phone on the couch and walked into the kitchen. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and drank it down quickly, guzzling the cool liquid. She pulled the empty bottle from her lips and belched softly before she cleared her throat and tossed the bottle away. “Ugh,” she groaned at herself. She needed aspirin.

Ellie finished cleaning her teeth and then she started to clean her face thoroughly, she did her whole routine and when she was done, she untied her hair. She took the hair out of her bun and let it fall down her back before she moved to oil her body up with coconut oil gently sitting the towel aside as she did.

Summer drug herself back up the steps and she moved into the bedroom, then into the bathroom. Looking at Ellie, she walked past her for the cabinet. Opening it, Summer grabbed the bottle out and shook two aspirins into her hand before she popped them into her mouth. She placed the bottle back, then moved for the sink, turning it on. She cupped her hands under the water, letting it gather, before she drank from her hands swallowing the pills down. “Good morning,” she finally managed to get out.

Ellie massaged some more oil into her thighs and legs bending over slightly before she heard someone come into the bathroom, Summer scaring her as she did. She watched the girl for a moment before she said, “morning,” to her sweetly as she finished off the oil and closed the container before she slid her thong and bra on. She sprayed some aloe on her face before she sat it aside and put a little deodorant on in the mirror as well.

Summer blinked hard, rubbing her eyes a bit more as she tried to adjust to the lightning in the bathroom. “Sorry about last night,” she murmured, using her hand to flip her hair back and out of her face. “One too many shots of tequila,” she told Ellie, “and now I’m paying for it,” she groaned slightly, leaning against the counter.

Ellie looked at Summer and she nodded her head at her. “Yeah,” she said to her simply before she moved to rub some lip balm on her dry lips. “You’ll be okay,” she told her easily as she rubbed her lips together and she grabbed her robe pulling it on and tying it off. She styled the dreads, pulling them back with a hair tie before she moved to clean, putting the products back into the places she got them from in the bathroom.

Nodding slightly, Summer brushed her hair back once more. “What did you mean last night?” she questioned Ellie now. She was drunk as hell, but she remembered what happened.

Ellie looked at Summer and raised a brow, “about what?” she asked her confused she moved to hang her towel back up where she had gotten it from. She moved back to the sink and she spritzed a little body splash against her skin, it was her favorite scent right now.

Summer shifted on her bare feet, looking down at her toes as she wiggled them against the flooring. “You said something along the lines of, you don’t have an off button,” she said, lifting her gaze to look at Ellie. “What do you mean by that?”

Ellie looked at Summer and she rested her hands on her hips sighing. “Summer don’t worry about it, it’s no big deal,” she told her easily, brushing it off honestly. It just meant she didn’t stop and didn’t know when to stop and that could mean anything.

Summer listened to Ellie’s response and she nodded slowly as she let out a deep sigh before she said, “okay…” easily. She pulled her shirt over her head, dropping it to the floor, as she walked to the shower, she stepped out of her thong as well, kicking the material to the side. Stepping into the shower, she closed the glass behind her and turned on her side of the shower, letting the water run.

Ellie watched Summer and she licked her lips slowly with a sigh, she looked away from her before she walked out the bathroom and into their bedroom. Ellie moved for something to lounge in for the day, she’d have to take Wynter out later but for now she didn’t have much planned. She grabbed a pair of Nike Pro leggings and a Nike crop top before she sat down on their bed to lotion her feet. After she did, she slid her Gucci slides onto her feet before she got up and hung her robe where it belonged.

Summer moved under the water falling from the ceiling, letting it pour over her body. Tilting her head back, she let the water run through her hair as well. Letting out a deep sigh, she wiped her hand down her face and opened her eyes. Turning slightly, she grabbed her loofah and body wash and began to clean herself from head to toe, washing her hair and all. When she was finished, she rinsed her body and her hair clean of all soap and suds. Moving from under the water, she wrung her hair out and turned the water off. She twisted more water from her hair, before she released, letting the damp hair fall down her back. Sighing out, Summer called for her girlfriend, “Ellie…”

Ellie checked herself out in the mirror, boy did she have a fat ass on her, she thought to herself with a head shake. Hearing Summer, she looked back and said, “yeah” calling back out to her as she impulsively rubbed lotion into her hands, rubbing them together as she looked at her face in the mirror above their dresser.

“Can you bring me a towel,” Summer asked Ellie, groaning at her own loud voice a bit, though the shower did help ease some of her discomfort. She knew stepping out of the shower and dripping water all over the floor would only irritate Ellie and she didn’t want that, not right now.

Ellie heard the woman and she nodded her head at her though the woman couldn’t see her one bit. She moved into the bathroom and towards the closet in there as she pulled out a towel for the woman, walking over to her and handing it to her. “Here,” she said simply to the woman.

Summer looked at Ellie as she entered the bathroom once more and she nodded, sliding the glass a bit, taking the towel from Ellie. “Thank you,” she said softly as she wrapped the towel around her frame, patting down before she finally stepped out of the shower, hair dripping. She quickly walked over to the sink and grabbed a brush, smoothing her long curly hair back into a bun. With that, she turned on the sink and grabbed her toothbrush as she began to clean her teeth. “Sorry about last night,” she added now, apologizing once again. “That was… a lot,” she said knowingly.

Ellie nodded her head at Summer and as she went along to say she was sorry again and she looked at her for a while before she said, “why do you keep apologizing for getting drunk?” she asked her. “It’s no big deal,” she told her with a headshake, “you partied, whatever,” she added as she turned around, crossing her arms over her chest as she moved to walk away from the woman again.

Looking over at Ellie, Summer said around her toothbrush, “because you’re mad at me for it…” easily, watching as Ellie folded her arms and walked away from her. Looking back at herself in the mirror, Summer scrubbed her teeth with the brush before she finished and she turned the water back on, rinsing her toothbrush off and tapping it against the side of the sink before she placed it back where it belonged. She spat and rinsed her mouth out now before she reached for her cleaner and spin brush for her face.

Summer was damn right; she was pissed off; Ellie was glad she knew that too. She was learning and fast which was very good for her and she shook her head at her easily. “Yeah, because it was just so amazing to me that you had another Gala and I wasn’t invited. One of which you get pissy drunk at and stay out until 3AM to,” Ellie said to her rolling her eyes as she moved to make the bed up for the day.

Summer sucked in a breath at Ellie’s words and she looked over at the woman as she walked out the bathroom. She had thought about inviting Ellie, but the woman never really expressed interest in wanting to go or really even in her studio much at all. Sighing out, she looked at herself in the mirror as she began washing her face. When she was done, she placed everything away before she rubbed on a simple SPF moisturizer. With that, she walked out of the bathroom, holding the towel to her chest as she did. “I… I didn’t think you would want to go,” she admitted. “The thought of inviting you crossed my mind, of course it did, but I just thought you maybe might not want to be bothered with it,” she said, “you’ve never really expressed much interest in what I do,” she said as she walked over to the drawer and pulled out a sports bra and boxer briefs.

Ellie listened to Summer’s response to her and she pursed her lips at her a bit. Oh sure, how convenient was that for her. “Okay,” she said easily, they never really talked about work with each other much, so it was interesting that she used that as an excuse. She fixed all the pillows on the bed neatly like they were supposed to be before she moved to collect her discarded clothing from the night before tossing them into the hamper. “Right,” she said, “you wanted a night of freedom that is what last night was,” she told her. “All those same little fucking girls were probably all over your oily light skinned ass last night. Buying bitches drinks and shit, while I’m at our home in bed alone… Fucking women and men,” she said shaking her head at Summer.

She was tired of both right now; men and women were all the same and they made her sick.

Summer placed the bra and boxers onto her body before she turned, looking back at Ellie. Blinking slowly, she let Ellie get her words out before she asked, “is it just in your nature to force a problem where there is none?” she asked Ellie seriously. “Like you sit there and literally create issues out of thin air,” she said looking at her girlfriend. “It was a work event Ellie,” Summer said harshly. “We hold one once or twice a month. It's how we collect a majority of our money for the studio, those events are what keep us afloat,” she said, shaking her head as she grabbed a tank top and pulled it on. “And just to be clear, it’s an open bar, no buying drinks,” she said licking her lips, “the more people drink, the more they donate,” she told Ellie, bitterly before she opened another drawer grabbing out a pair of sweatpants before she slammed it shut, hurting her own ears. “I don’t know what the fuck your problem is or has been but figure it the fuck out Ellie because you… are on some other shit,” she said licking her lips as she stepped into the sweats. “First, it’s random fucking Instagram comments that don’t mean a damn thing, now it’s me coming home drunk from a work event?” she questioned, shaking her head. “Work out whatever issue you’re having because that’s on you, not on me, I haven’t done shit,” she told Ellie before she moved past the woman and out of the room, going into the bathroom to get more aspirin.

Ellie stood there as Summer turned around to respond to her, pulling clothes onto her body the whole while. She squinted at her slightly as she called herself picking her apart, interesting. She folded her arms back over her chest as she stood there leaning against the dresser licking her lips slowly as she willed herself not to beat the fuck out of the woman right now. She had a slick fucking mouth and she’d learn very quickly not to carry on certain antics with her. As she walked past her towards the bathroom, she nodded her head very slowly at her, her eyes darkening on their own as she moved to walk out of their bedroom without a remark. Which was very unlike her to do.

Summer moved into the bathroom and she opened the cabinet once more, grabbing the pill bottle and shaking two more tablets into her hand. She tossed them back, swallowing them dry, before she placed the bottle back and she pinched the bridge of her nose with a deep sigh.

Ellie moved down the hall, down the stairs towards the kitchen in the house. She thought of a meal to cook for lunch to herself as she rummaged through the large fridge. She usually went by what was around and readily available when she cooked, but they were fully stocked right now so she had many options.

Wynter trotted down the steps, humming happily. She was so giddy and excited that she couldn’t contain it. She still could not believe that Oliver asked her out. Smiling to herself, she walked into the kitchen and said, “hey Ellie,” brightly as she dipped under Ellie’s arm to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

Summer gathered herself before she walked out of the bathroom, looking around the empty bedroom for a moment. She walked over to the dresser, looking for her phone once more, before she remembered that she had tossed it on the couch downstairs. Moving out the bedroom, she walked down the steps to the living room. Picking her phone up off the couch, she unlocked it and read the messages from Jasmine and Taylor before she replied to them both. Looking over at Wynter and Ellie, Summer moved outside to the backyard as she called Jasmine.

Ellie looked down at Wynter and she said, “hey girl,” to her easily allowing her to grab some water before she closed the doors behind them. She looked at her and said, “what time again?” curiously, she couldn’t decide on what to cook. So, perhaps she may get something to eat with Wynter beforehand, that would be easy.

Wynter cracked the bottle open, taking a sit of it before she said, “3:30,” quietly, looking back at Summer as she walked outside. Knowing the woman was out of earshot she went on to say, “can you help me pick out an outfit?” with a bright smile. This would be her first date and she was nervous as all get out. She just wanted to be cool and chill though, she didn’t want to scare Oliver off, especially considering that it took several years for him to even acknowledge her in this way.

Summer sat down outside near the outhouse and grill as Jasmine answered the phone and they began talking about last night's events. “So, how much did we raise last night?” she asked Jasmine and when the woman told her, she let out a low whistle, “damn, that’s amazing,” she said with a small smile, “with that we can add onto the studio and put together our showcase for this year,” she said thoughtfully. “Plus, maybe hire two more teachers since you know who is on maternity leave and we might be losing Jackie as well,” she said.

Ellie looked at her and nodded looking at the time on the oven “3:30, we could grab lunch before I drop you off,” she said cheerfully to her. As the girl went on to explain she needed help with an outfit she nodded her head at her. “No problem,” she said nodding her head as she folded her arms leaning against the fridge.

Wynter smiled with a nod. “Oh… well, Oliver said that we were going to eat during the movie,” she said biting her lip, “it’s a dine-in theater,” she told Ellie easily, sliding her hand into her pocket as she nursed her water with the other.

“Right,” Ellie said to the girl, “makes sense,” she nodded her head. “I’ll just eat while I wait for you,” she told her trying not to sound defeated. “So, when are you going to get ready?” she asked her curiously.

Wynter bit her lip hard at Ellie and she said, “I can ask him if we can just get popcorn and snacks,” seeing how quickly Ellie’s demeanor changed. Licking her lips, she looked at the time on the stove and said, “In about an hour,” she giggled before she pulled herself together. “Ugh, I just don’t want to embarrass myself,” she said as she pushed some of her hair back.

“No, it’s fine,” Ellie waved off to her before she looked at the time. “Okay,” she nodded at the girl. “Well, I’ll be in the room when you are ready to pick something out,” she told her easily as she moved to walk off from the young girl, patting her on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine,” she told her.

Frowning a bit, Wynter nodded at Ellie and she said, “okay…” a bit sadly. She had no idea what was wrong with Ellie, or Summer for that matter, since she hadn’t spoken a word to her when she walked past. Sighing out, she drank more of her water before she tossed the bottle away and moved to sit down on the couch to watch some TV before she began getting ready later.