#this is so nicely shot except for the strobe lighting

[maximura]

[hyypnotix-writes]

Straight. Straight straight straight.

~ I really don’t know what this is. I couldn’t sleep and so, here we are. I’ve never written anything other than essays for uni before so ..this could go down like a lead balloon! we’ll see, lemme know! :) ~

~ it’s like ..10k words? because I really couldn’t sleep. so, it’s a long one ..if you have nothing else to do! ~

~ I don’t think it needs any content warnings, but please tell me if there should be! there’s some swearing, if that’s off putting to you.. ~

~ it takes a tiny while for A to show up, and she’s never explicitly named..but she is there, it is her ~

~ I’m talking myself out of posting, but this is too long to scrap now, sorry ~

~ good luck! good bye xx ~

________________

The club is a disgusting little place to be. Buried right in the centre of town, with drinks so extortionately expensive, they make even the cost of your London’s monthly rent, look a little reasonable. The music blares inside your head, the strobe lighting messes with your vision, and the smell of horny sweaty bodies is an assault on the nostrils. It’s your least favourite place on earth to be.

It’s somewhere you’d managed to avoid being, for all of your early twenties. You’ve had no reason to go to a club late at night. Not when you’ve had a boyfriend for the past 5 years to go home to. That dirty little desire to get drunk, and hookup with an attractive stranger, took a nice long hibernation.

For you.

Turns out, your ever-loving, ever-caring, fuckwit of an ex-boyfriend, still managed to find the time to go to clubs, and hookup with strangers in between spending nights with you. You really thought he was out working till the early hours of the morning, busy making a living for your future together? What an idiot you were.

So, you’re back in a nightclub, at the behest of some of your single friends, for the first time in over half a decade, borderline drunk out of your mind.

It’s still a comfortable level of tipsiness at the moment, you’d argue, despite stumbling a little on your way back towards the bar. You can easily identify the song that’s being blasted, you’ve been able to order more drinks independently without being refused service. Your inhibitions are long gone, but you’re still able to think clearly, and you’re ready to find someone to go home with.

Your friends are all dotted around the room getting off with men of varying levels of attractiveness. None of them have impressed you so far, you’re not so desperate for company that you’re willing to let your own standards drop tonight. You’re happy to wait for the best-looking man in the room. Looking around the room to scope the talent on offer, however, maybe you do need to lower your standards a little bit.

You approach the bar again, and order a shot of tequila for yourself. A friendly little liquid that’s had previous success with you, for getting you to sleep with just about anything.

“¡Dos, por favor!” Comes a call from behind you, from a woman you do not know. It’s rather ballsy of her, almost rude, but she holds out her card to pay, before you can get too irritated with her request.

“Gracias.” You offer, using your exceptional detective skills to work out the woman’s nationality.

“¿Hablas español?” She checks, as she leans next to you, and you wag a dismissive, drunken finger in front of her face as you shake your head.

“Sorry to disappoint,” you tell her, “only English. GCSE level German.”

She smirks, watching you, and you narrow your eyes at her, tapping the bar as you await your drink.

You’re handed your shot, with a lime wedge and some salt, and you nod in thanks, to the woman who bought it for you. You don’t wait for her to go first, you’re in a bit of a rush here. All the men in the room are getting uglier by the second, you need to act fast, before you see the light too clearly.

You lick your hand and pour on the salt, the woman watching you closely as you do. She doesn’t go through the motions at all for her own drink, she focuses solely on you, gently biting at her bottom lip.

You lick the salt, down the shot, and she holds the lime wedge in between her fingers for you to bite. You don’t question it. Not until you sink your teeth into the lime, your eyes meet over it, and time stand still.

She has very beautiful eyes. A mysterious looking hazel. They flicker over you as you suck the citrus juice, and you can see the crinkles in the corners of them as she smiles at you. It’s weirdly intimate, unnervingly so.

You pull away, wiping the juice from your chin as you point to her own glass for her to follow suit. You find yourself watching her as she does the same routine, but you don’t hold out the fruit for her, the way she did for you. It was a strange custom, one that’s already playing on a loop in your head.

“Can I get you another?” She offers, and you find yourself torn.

You’re not here for a woman, you’ve never been with one. You’ve kissed your girlfriends once or twice when you were younger, mainly as a gross way of attracting boys. It’s not something you thought too deeply about, it wasn’t exactly a lightbulb moment for you. There was never any secret yearning for any of your friends afterwards. You’re straight. Straight straight straight.

The woman’s eyes seem to pierce through your soul, as she waits for your answer, like she can see something in you that you can’t. It draws you in, but you hold yourself back.

“I’m straight.” You tell her, and she smirks at you again.

“Congratulations! I didn’t ask,” she points out, “but thanks for letting me know.”

You frown a little as she turns her attention back to the bartender and orders two more shots for the pair of you. She doesn’t seem put off by your sexuality claim at all. It’s almost like she doesn’t believe you, and you’re not too sure you appreciate her cockiness about it.

In fairness, maybe you’re the one being cocky. She doesn’t have a badge on her saying she’s a lesbian, there’s no rainbow floating above her head. She’s not a stereotypical lesbian, not in the way that your little sister is. Maybe she’s just being friendly, and you’re projecting, because you’re drunk and full of yourself.

“Sorry,” you start, leaning into her so she can hear you above the music, and she pushes the shot towards you, “I just thought ..maybe you were coming on to me.”

“That’s very wishful thinking from you.” She says simply, turning her head slightly to face you. She’s exceptionally close, and your eyes instantly trail to her lips. Time’s stood still again.

She has nice lips, very nice lips. They’d probably taste very nice..

You have to pull yourself away.

“Gracias.” You say again, gesturing to the glass in front of you with a frown. You reach for the salt, but before you can lick your hand, she raises it to her own mouth to wet it for you. You really don’t know what to make of her. It’s very gross, it’s very rude ..it’s very sexy.

There’s a confidence in her, that has you questioning things. The warmth of her tongue sends goosebumps right up your arm. Which, she can undoubtedly see, as you don’t have long sleeves and she’s smirking at you again. You don’t appreciate her smug little attitude. Anyone would have a physical reaction to being licked by a stranger, she has no business being arrogant about it.

You must have been stuck in place for too long, as she pours the salt onto your hand on your behalf too.

You don’t like being outdone. If she wants to play it cocky, you can match her for it. You grab the lime wedge and indicate for her to open her mouth. It catches her a little off guard, which you feel a sense of pride in, but she doesn’t back down from your challenge. She welcomes your newfound confidence, with that same little smirk from before.

You place the lime, skin-side back, in between her teeth and you lick the salt from your hand with unwavering eye contact. You down the shot, and you pull her in carefully by her neck.

Your lips brush against hers, ever so slightly, as you bite the lime between her teeth and remove it in your own. It’s a deliberate move from you, maybe you’re feeling messy tonight. You watch as she raises her fingers to her lips, and you wipe the juice again with the back of your hand. You give her a nod with another little ‘gracias’, before heading away from the bar without looking back at her.

You’re stuck on a carousel of men once you return to the centre of the club. They are all admittedly, far better looking than they were before your little trip to get drinks, but there’s still no one drawing your eye. None of them like that cocky little woman at the bar.

She wasn’t really little, she’s quite tall, actually. Had a couple inches on you, that’s for sure, and you’re not short. She was impressively tall, she had nice posture. She didn’t slouch or look uncomfortable. She was just tall, and beautiful, with that endearing little smirk on her pretty little fa— what are you doing?

You need to find yourself a man, and quick.

You’ve trapped yourself between another one and a wall, only a few minutes later, and it feels like a mistake. His hands are on your hips, his mouth is dangerously close to yours, and frankly, no amount of alcohol could make you genuinely attracted to him.

“You’re really sexy.” He slurs, his hand grazing up your body.

No, next.

It doesn’t take long to find another, his arm wrapped round your waist as he shares his drink with you. He’s cute, you’re fairly certain. He does have a moustache, which isn’t your usual cup of tea. It’s like a little caterpillar resting above his top lip, twitching as he talks to you. He drowns it slightly as he has more of his drink, and it makes you cringe as he licks at it.

It’d probably tickle if he kissed you, or leave you with a rash, the hairy little ferret on his lip.

Do you know who didn’t have a moustache? Who you wouldn’t have to work out, how not to throw up in their face, as there’s no risk of their facial hair ever getting stuck in your mouth as you kiss?

Mhmm.

Straight straight straight.

You slide out from his embrace, twirling him around to go after some other poor soul and you return to the bar.

It’s disappointing to realise she’s no longer there, not that she should be waiting around for you. She’s probably found someone less rude to spend her time with, someone more gay.

Look at the state of you, traipsing back to a bar in search of woman you don’t know because she looked at you for a second too long and now you can’t shake her from your head. How embarrassing. You’re straight. Straight straight straight.

You make your way through to the ladies’ room to splash some water on your face, and come to your senses. Of course, that’s where she’s hiding. With some new company of her own.

That shouldn’t hurt you. You don’t even know this woman’s name. You know nothing about her at all except that she’s tall, beautiful and has soft lips. Lips that are now on another woman and you’re incensed. You have no right to be angry about it, and yet, here you are.

You bash at the head of the tap, rather aggressively. Sometimes taps in nightclub restrooms don’t work, it probably needed a firm touch. It has nothing to do with you wanting to distract the woman, no no no. Because you’re straight. Straight straight straight.

You don’t need the attention of another woman, that would be ridiculous. That wouldn’t be very straight of you at all.

It doesn’t seem like your loud and theatrical washing of your hands has done anything to disturb the kiss to the side of you.

And good! You wouldn’t want to do that.

So, when you bump into them to reach for some hand towels, that’s just an accident. The fact that the tall, beautiful, soft-lipped, Spanish woman’s eyes flick to you as you dry your hands, is just an unfortunate side effect of your clumsiness.

The fact that it doesn’t stop her from kissing the other woman, however, is outrageous. Her watching you, as she’s busy with someone else? How disgusting.

Your heart shouldn’t be racing at the sight of her, your breath shouldn’t be as shallow at is, and it definitely shouldn’t be catching in your throat as the other woman kisses down her neck, and she’s still only looking at you. This isn’t attractive. This isn’t turning you on. You don’t wish it was you on her neck. There’s that infamous smirk on her face again as she stares at you. She’s unbelievable.

You throw your towels in the bin with an almighty clang as you let the lid drop back down, finally putting the other woman off her stride, and you make a swift exit back into the club.

The music’s too loud again, the smell is suffocating, all of the men are gross by comparison to the woman stuck in your head. It’s been an unsuccessful night and you’re ready to go home alone.

The hand that grabs you, has other ideas.

“You said you were straight!” She reminds you, as she pulls you outside with her.

“I am!” You tell her, still annoyed with her little antics.

“You followed me to the toilet?”

“I didn’t know you were in there!” You point out, even more annoyed with her cocky little attitude.

“You’re angry.” She tells you, smirking. “Didn’t like me kissing someone else?”

“I don’t care who you kiss!”

“No?”

“No!”

There’s a palpable tension between you both. It doesn’t make sense. You don’t know this woman. She doesn’t know you. It doesn’t matter that she kissed someone else. You were trying to kiss someone else only a minute before.

Why you’re so enraged by a woman who’s bought you two shots, getting with another woman after you walked away from her, is a question for future you. You’re not about to have an existential crisis in front of her. Questioning your identity in your mid-twenties, is absurd. You’re straight. Straight straight straight.

There’s a curiousness, to her decisions, actually. To follow you, when she already had company. To drag you outside, to where no one else is. She’s very confident about you being interested, but she’s not exactly being apathetic herself.

“Why did you leave her?” You ask.

“What?”

“You followed me,” you point out, furrowing your brow, “had a pretty girl draping herself all over you, and you left her to follow me. Why?”

You’ve clearly touched a nerve; her smirk has vanished. You can see her tongue pushing against the inside of her mouth. She’s annoyed with you.

She slowly runs her tongue under her teeth, before wetting her bottom lip with it while rolling her eyes. She doesn’t miss how your breath hitches watching her. Her smirk is back, and she moves closer to you.

“Maybe I’ll go back to her.” She threatens, and your jaw clenches slightly.

“Maybe you should!” You tell her, taking steps backwards as she approaches.

“Do you want me to?”

You collide into the wall behind you, and she places her hands on it by your head.

“No.” You confess, breathlessly.

“You said you were straight.” She repeats, her face mere inches from yours as she leans into you.

You swallow down, your pulse picking up speed.

“I am.” You insist, your eyes locking onto her mouth. “I..”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No.”

“What do you want me to do?” She questions knowingly, that all too familiar smirk, taking over her face. She tilts her head, impossibly close to yours. You can smell the lime that lingers on her lips, feel her breath that softly blows against you, but she still doesn’t let you have what you want.

“Are you going to make me beg for it?” You groan, leaning backwards into the wall as far as you can.

“Maybe.” She tells you.

You hate her holding all the cards like this. She has you like putty in her hands. She’s all cocky and in control. Who does she think she is?

You’re better than this. You’re not shy around people you fancy. You may have been caught in a pointless relationship for far too long, but you’re a catch, people are into you. This woman right here, is into you. You don’t need to be nervous with her, it doesn’t mean anything. You’re straight. Straight straight straight. It could be the worst kiss of your life, and why should you care?

You slink your arm up behind her neck, closing the distance between you even further, and her eyelids flutter shut.

“I’m not going to.” You inform her, emboldened by her reaction to you. You duck out from under her arms, blowing her a kiss as you walk back inside. To find a man to take you home. You’re straight. Straight straight straight.

It doesn’t take you long at all to find another man to wear around you. One with glasses on. No, he’s not attractive. No, you don’t want to go home with him. But he’s here, he’s a man, and he isn’t driving you quite as crazy as the woman you keep running into. It’s simple, it’s easy, it’s hassle free. It’s exactly what you came for, you’re ready to go.

________________

Waking up in unfamiliar sheets, is something you haven’t done in a while. You’re quietly proud of yourself. The sheets smell nice, your hangover headache isn’t half as bad as you thought it would be, and there’s a pleasurable little ache between your legs that tells you that, whatever happened last night, you more than enjoyed yourself.

You wriggle a little under the covers and take a peek to confirm that you are indeed, completely naked. Your eyes are allowed to trail the body next to you. You’ve had sex with it, you’re more than entitled.

You really don’t remember which man it was you left with. There was the one with the glasses, the tall one with the mullet, the man with the moustache, the unfortunate gentleman with the incorrectly placed toupee.

He’s probably the one you’d most be upset about seeing next to you. Not that he didn’t seem friendly enough, but he really wasn’t the attractive stranger you were hunting for.

You risk another quick peek under the covers and your eyes all but bug out of your head. No no nonononono. You pull the covers back down and shut your eyes, trying to remember what the hell went wrong. You had countless semi-attractive men all over you. How the hell?

You peek again. Maybe you’re seeing things. Your hungover little brain playing tricks on you.

No.

That’s definitely not a man’s body. It’s far too beautiful. It’s toned, smooth, sculpted by the gods themselves. You want to put your tongue on it. You probably already have had your tongue on it. Who knows what you’ve done to it, what it’s done to you. How the hell did you go home with a woman?

“Are you enjoying the view?” The voice outside of the covers asks, and you roll yourself over under the sheets away from her.

You’d recognise that accent anywhere. That cocky little tone to her voice. That insufferable Spanish woman from the bar. That tall, beautiful, soft-lipped, Spanish walking-headache, took you home, and had her way with you? You? When you’re straight? Straight straight straight.

The ache in between your legs, the dull satisfaction running through your body, and you have her to thank for it?

It’s a dream. It’s a nightmare. It’s a horrible, twisted little trick, that, if you keep your eyes closed to, maybe it will all disappear around you and you’ll wake up again next to a man. A gross, sweaty little man, with too much hair on his face and not enough on the top of his head.

There’s a snicker from outside of the covers and you let out a huff, as she taps at your body.

“What?” You grumble, making no effort to free yourself from the sheets you’ve cocooned yourself in.

You can feel her shimmy herself closer to you and you hold your hand behind you to stop her.

“No!” You tell her, quite firmly, as her torso connects with your fingertips. Her toned torso. Her taut, muscly torso that your fingers have somehow now spread out over. You can feel her breathing against your palm. She hasn’t edged any closer to you after your outburst, and you regret telling her off so soon.

You’d quite like her pressed up against you, if that’s what she wants to do. Maybe you were too hasty, too rude. You can still feel the shortness of her breath against your hand. You’re being inappropriate, touching her like this. You slowly remove your hand from her, still hovering it pretty close.

You reach back for her arm, trailing your fingers down it until you meet with her hand, and you pull it around you. You’re not entirely sure what’s possessing you, you just want to feel her on your skin. She doesn’t need much encouragement to nestle into you, and it’s definitely not a man’s body.

You tangle your fingers with hers over your stomach, leaning into her. She has nice hands. Hands that are quite a bit bigger than yours, it’s no wonder you have an ache.

She removes the covers from over your head, instantly placing her lips to your neck. It’s very easy to forget yourself with her mouth on you, it’s no real surprise she managed to trick you into coming back to hers at all. She frees her fingers from yours, moving her hand down your body, and you put up no resistance to her. You encourage it, if anything, moving yourself to make it easier.

It’s nothing like having a man between your legs. There’s no needless grunting above you, no mindless grabbing, or endless showboating. You don’t need to make excessive noises to boost her ego. She just really knows what she’s doing with her fingers. She has every right to be cocky with herself.

Maybe this is just what it is to be with a woman. Maybe they just know, it’s the same parts, after all. Maybe it’s an inherent knowledge that all women possess, but only a select few ever get to experience. Lucky them.

Lucky you.

You are still being quite loud with her inside of you. It’s not for her benefit, it just really feels very good. You grip at her head behind you, running your fingers down the back of her neck, and you bite at your other hand to mute your sound effects, to stop giving her quite so much satisfaction with herself. You can see that smug little smirk on her face, it’s impossible to know if it’s still annoying or just incredibly sexy. It’s a very thin line with this woman.

It’s hard to keep still with her going to work on you the way she is. You find yourself rolling back over into her and she welcomes you, easily capturing your lips with hers. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

They are very nice lips, they do taste nice, and it’s not the first time you’ve kissed them.

Memories of the night come flooding back in.

________________

“I can take you back to mine?” The man wearing glasses offers.

“Perfect!” You reply, all too eager to get out of this frustrating little situation you’ve found yourself in. He places his cup on the nearest table, and winks at you, before leading you to the door.

Again, the hand that grabs you, has other ideas.

“You’re not leaving with him!” She tells you in no uncertain terms, as she holds you firmly in place.

“You can’t tell me what to do! Who the hell do you think you are?” She doesn’t give in, and as you turn to find the man, he’s already wandered off without you. “Are you joking? What’s your problem?”

You’re absolutely furious with the woman, she has no right to ruin your plans like this. You shake her off of you and head back to the bar, but she shadows you closely.

“You can fuck right off, following me about!”

“You’re really very angry.” She tells you, rather amused at your attitude. “Why, because I didn’t let you leave with some gross man?”

“He was cute!”

“He was about 50!”

That can’t be right.

He had glasses on, sure, but so do lots of people in their twenties. He had ..greying hair. Slightly less common, perhaps, but he had been cute.

Hadn’t he?

“Fuck!”

You rub your fingers over your forehead, trying to erase him from your mind, as the woman continues smirking at you.

“You can wipe that smug look off your face, right now!” You warn her and she chuckles to herself.

“Do you want another drink?”

“..Please.”

You down another round of shots together, being inappropriate with the salt and limes again. There’s an incredible amount of confidence in you. Whether it’s your new disdain for this woman, the fact that you’re unlikely to be going home with someone you’ll be happy waking up next to, or just the alcohol flooding your system, who can tell, but it’s a confidence that you’re more than willing to embrace.

You order another round of drinks and lick her collarbone ready to pour the salt on to. Her eyebrow quirks at you, but she doesn’t stop you doing it. She readies the lime in her mouth, as you down the tequila, and she pierces it with her teeth for you, dripping the juice into your mouth from hers up above.

It’s a very weird mating call from her, and it’s 100% effective. You grab her hand and lead her back to the hallway between the toilets. You bury your head in her neck as the moustache walks past you both, and you open the door to the smoking area to see if anyone’s about. No one is, so you pull her outside with you.

“Why are we back here?” She asks, that smug smile still tattooed on her lips.

“I feel more sober in fresh air.”

“Mm? You’re very drunk.”

“You’re very drunk!”

“Maybe, but at least I’m not on a ridiculous hunt for a man!”

“It’s not ridiculous, it’s meticulous!” You tell her, giggling slightly at your accidental rhyme. “I’m looking for a very specific man, preferably a good looking one, in his twenties.”

“Really? You didn’t seem too worried, that a man in his twenties was actually a man in his fifties!” She points out.

“Mm. I don’t know that I’m particularly worried about a man in his twenties ..being a woman in her twenties either.” You tell her with a rather casual shrug as you head to one of the tables. You sit yourself up on it, looking back at the woman who gives you a knowing little smile.

“You’re not very straight, are you?” She asks sarcastically.

“I really am.” You sigh, rolling your eyes. “I’ve never been with a woman, never wanted to be. I’ve only just got out of a long-term relationship with a man. I’ve only ever wanted to be with men.”

“Mm?” She mumbles, moving over to you slowly. She carefully pushes your knees apart and stands in between them, looking down at you. “I’m not a man.” She reminds you, and you trap your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Maybe I don’t want you.”

“Mm?” She places a curved finger under your chin, tilting your head and bringing your mouths very close together. “Tell me you don’t.”

There’s a feeling in your stomach at her challenge, a feeling lower than your stomach at her challenge. You do want her, and you’re not a good enough liar to pretend that you don’t.

“I can’t..” You admit, and she smiles again, before removing herself from you. You let out a frustrated little sigh as she moves backwards, and you swing your legs back together. “You want me too!” You tell her and she tilts her head to the side.

“Who told you that?”

“Tell me you don’t.”

“..I can’t.” She admits, and maybe her cocky little smirk has found its way onto your face.

You jump down from the tabletop and lean back against it, nibbling at the inside of your mouth. She casually walks back over to you, resting her hand on your hip.

It’s far less offensive than gentleman number 6’s grazing of your body. You don’t feel the need to push her away at all. She leans back into you, tucking your hair behind your ear. It sends a little tingle right down the side of your neck, and she smirks again at your reaction. You can’t not roll your eyes at her incessant need to be arrogant. She rubs her thumb across your cheek and over your mouth, pulling down on your lower lip gently.

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“Yes ..what?” She asks, and she’s ruined the moment. You shake your head at her chuckling lightly.

“If you don’t want to kiss me, it’s fine, we don’t have to. I’m not going to beg you for it.” You tilt your head, brushing her nose with yours. “Do you want to kiss me?” She nods silently, and you wink at her. “Looks like we’re both missing out then!”

You slip out from between her and the table and make your way over to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To find a man to take me home! I’m straight!”

You can hear her cocky little laugh as you head back into the club, and it sends a little thrill right through your body.

This bizarre game of cat and mouse continues between you both for a little while longer. You keep buying each other shots, drinking them in more obscene ways every time. You back each other into walls, threatening to kiss each other, before one of you walks away, and the whole process repeats itself.

It’s getting harder to compose yourself after each round of shots. You really do just want her to kiss you, you’ve had enough of fighting it, but you also don’t want her to have the satisfaction of you caving in. It’s a ruthless little battle that you’ve found yourself in. She’s incredibly competitive.

You have to commit. Genuinely find yourself a man. It shouldn’t be hard. There’s lots of them about, and you’re more drunk now than you’ve been all night. You’re embarrassingly easy prey.

You survey your surroundings, hoping for one decent looking man to catch your eye. It’s a truly talentless night. You find yourself grimacing slightly realising that all of your friends have already left the place. Some of them will definitely regret their choices in the morning.

As will you, if you don’t manage to get at least one kiss from this godforsaken woman.

“Looking for me?” She asks as she sidles on next to you, leaning against the wall.

“I’m looking for a man! I’ve already told you this.”

“Well ..there’s one there.” She tells you, gesturing to a random fellow in the corner. “There’s another there.” She points out. “There. There. The—”

“I get it, thanks. You have terrible taste in men.”

“I don’t have any taste in men.” She reminds you. “I have pretty impeccable taste in women.”

“Mm? Well, which one takes your fancy?” You ask. “There’s one over there. There ..there. Th—”

She grabs your pointed finger and turns it back towards you. It’s not a new answer, so god knows why you’re blushing at it.

“Then kiss me.” You tell her, little louder than a whisper. “Just kiss me, for fuc—”

She’s clearly had enough too. Maybe it was the tiredness in your voice, the obvious look of defeat in your eyes. Maybe she just doesn’t like you swearing. You’re not going to question it. Her lips are finally on yours, and she was definitely worth the wait. It ignites a spark in you, it sends your tipsy little mind fully into orbit, and she’s the only other person in the room with you.

There’s no sense of desperation in the kiss. It’s not messy, or chaotic. It’s deliberate from her, considered. There’s an air of caution perhaps, a worry that you’ll pull away from her. You’re straight, after all. Maybe she’s nervous that your certainty in wanting a kiss will waver now that she’s finally given you what you want. Maybe you’ve realised that you don’t actually want it.

It’s a new experience for you, surprisingly different from kissing a man, but it’s not one you want to pull away from. It’s not one you want to rush. It’s not one you really want to end at all. You can sense her apprehension, and it’s the first time that she’s had no snark. It’s not a cocky little kiss. She’s not doing it to get it over and done with. It’s not going to end with her smirking at you, like she’s done you a favour. It isn’t meaningless.

It’s tentative, and frankly, you’ve had enough of her carefulness. If she needs a sign that you’re not going anywhere, that you want her to keep kissing you, you’ll find a way to do that. Your tongue parts her lips, and the gasp you elicit is all the confirmation you need of her nerves. It’s endearing to have her be quite so vulnerable with you.

You deepening the kiss is clearly all the confirmation she needs that everything’s fair game, because she wastes no time in escalating the intensity. She clings to you, wrapping her arm around your waist, her hand gripping at your hip, the other cradling your jaw. She backs you up against the wall and muffles the moan that escapes you with your joined lips.

Her tongue dances with yours, and you let her take over all your senses. It’s just a kiss, and yet it’s like a journey to a whole new world. It’s entirely all-consuming, the rest of existence has melted to nothingness around you. You don’t care where you are, you don’t care who’s watching. Or do you?

Maybe there is a mild sense of urgency to it, because kissing is simply not enough. You need to have her closer, impossibly close. You need her, entirely, and regardless of how much you’re craving the feeling of her, you do still care about where that happens.

“Are you local?” You ask, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. She only gives a silent nod in reply. “I’m like ..20 minutes by taxi?”

“My hotel’s closer than that.”

“So ..back to yours?”

“Are you sure?” She asks, searching your eyes for any sense of reluctance. She’s unlikely to find any, but you nod, assertively, just to reaffirm. “I’m not taking you back to mine to ..play cards?” She double-checks with you and you chuckle, resting your forehead to hers.

“No, I’m sort of counting on that.” You tell her. “Unless you don’t wa—”

She cuts you off with a kiss again. There was no swearing this time, no tiredness or look of defeat. Maybe she just likes kissing you.

“Are you absolutely sure?” She asks again, because she’s polite, and underneath all her cocky annoyingness, she really is very sweet.

“Oh my god.” You sigh. You do still find yourself rolling your eyes, you don’t know how much more obvious you need to be with her. “..please.”

The rush back to her hotel room is fun, you feel like a teenager all over again. Waltzing through the streets of London, your hand interlaced with an attractive stranger’s, the promise of sex hanging in the air.

It doesn’t matter that it’s a woman you’re linked up with. That doesn’t mean anything. It’s a one-time little indulgence. An experiment, for research purposes. To find out what it is your sister’s been going so crazy over, ever since she was a teenager.

It doesn’t mean anything when she keeps kissing you against the walls of closed buildings. It doesn’t mean anything when you pull her back into you at the entrance of her hotel. Yes, it’s nice. It’s enjoyable. It steals the air right from your lungs every single time, but that doesn’t mean anything. How could it, when you’re straight? Straight straight straight.

You do keep your hands off each other when you get to the lift of the hotel, there’s an older woman in there with you, and you’re not about to put on a show for her. Not for free.

Maybe your eyes keep meeting too much, or the smirking is too obvious. Maybe you do keep touching once or twice, because something’s definitely giving you both away.

“Lesbians?” The older woman asks, with a very clear disdain.

“Hm? For tonight.” You reply with a nod, unperturbed by her demeanour. Your Spanish host shakes her head at you, smiling as she looks up at the ceiling.

You’ve dealt with a few homophobes in your time. Your sister isn’t exactly subtle with her identity. It welcomes dirty looks, offensive words, and you’ve never been one to shy away from protecting her. You’ve never had to defend yourself against prejudice, but she’s not exactly an intimidating woman. You could easily take her if she tries to raise her hand.

“It’s disgusting.” She mutters under her breath, and her unsupportive attitude is sort of spurring you on.

“Do you think?” You ask. “What’s so disgusting about it?”

“Two women. It’s a waste.”

“Oof. I am not about to let her go to waste, don’t you worry about that at all, madam.” You reassure her, offering a friendly smile that earns you a very angry look in reply.

You don’t miss the smirk that graces the taller woman’s face next to you in the mirror, and that’s all the encouragement you need.

“It’s not natural!” The older woman tells you, and you nod your head slowly back at her. “It’s disgusting!”

“You’re very annoyed about it.” You point out. “It’s a bit unnecessary, no?”

“I think you’re both disgusting!” She hisses at you again.

“Oh dear.” You lean back against the bar of the elevator, as the older woman stares you down. “That’s an incredible argument you’ve put forward. I think I’ve seen the light!”

She not at all impressed by your relaxed sarcasm, you’re clearly getting on her nerves. Your lack of remorse, the fact you’re not begging for her forgiveness.

“I think it—”

“You think it’s disgusting, madam. We get it.” You interrupt, a little bit tired of her insistence. “Don’t spend your evening with another woman, then. We’re not inviting you to join us, so you can calm down.” You tell her, moving back towards the Spanish woman behind you.

She wraps her arm around your waist instantly and you lean into her touch. It’s comforting, subtle. It’s a very casual display of support without silencing you, without fighting over you.

She’s not dramatically shouting at the other woman; she’s not emasculated by you doing all the talking. She’s not making empty threats or getting up in the other woman’s face.

She’s not reacting at all in the way you’ve come to expect. The way that he probably would, to someone questioning him. Not that your ex ever defended your sister’s honour with you, but he certainly enjoyed getting into a scrap when he felt threatened.

It’s very attractive from her, actually, to just silently remind you that she’s there if you need her. That she’s with you, she does have your back, and you’d kiss her right there on the mouth if the woman opposite wasn’t glaring at you quite so intently.

Maybe you should kiss her regardless. There’s only a few more floors left till the old bat gets off. What’s she going to do, slap you both for some pda? There’s a security camera in here, she wouldn’t be so stupid.

Perhaps you can control yourself for a couple more floors, you don’t need to provoke the bastard woman. So what if she’s an unfavourable little witch, she’s not ruining your evening, you’re not going to let her.

Well, if that’s your logic, why should you let her stop you from kissing the woman when you want to? What courtesy do you owe to her? If she’s that upset about it, she’ll have to either avert her eyes like a petulant little child, or stop off at the floor below and hope she doesn’t choke on her bigotry when walking the rest of the way up. You don’t care.

Thankfully, neither does the Spanish beauty who matches your energy and kisses you back with the same fervour you’re showing her.

You’re instantly entirely unbothered by the third wheel once there’s an extra tongue back in your mouth, her Spanish hands on your face. You don’t care at all how uncomfortable you’re making the old bint. Frankly, you hope her eyes are burning at the sight of you both.

She doesn’t let you enjoy your moment for too long. Of course she doesn’t, the dark-sided little mare. She barges past you both as the doors open and she spits at the floor in front of you. The absolute nerve. She expectorates in the lift inside of a nice hotel, and you’re the disgusting ones? Absolutely not. You’re seeing red. You really could take her, you’ve been to a gym more than once or twice in your life, you’re not weak.

“You revolting little bi—”

The hand that grabs you, has other ideas.

“Let her go!” She tells you, laughing as she spins you back round to face her. “Por favor, she’s not worth it!”

“She spat at us! That dirty little cu—”

She kisses you again. Maybe she really does hate your swearing. Her lips are distracting, though, and you don’t mind learning that that’s one surefire way to get them back on yours.

“She really was a hateful bitch.” You murmur between kisses, and the Spaniard giggles against you.

“You’re a very angry straight girl.” She tells you, pushing your hair back off your face. “You don’t like homophobes?”

“Do you?” You ask, frowning at the woman in front of you.

“No,” she admits with a chuckle, “I’d have probably just let her get on with it quietly, though. Didn’t feel the need to anger her more!”

“I’m sorry for embarrassing you.”

“You didn’t, I’d have backed you if she kept going.”

There’s that sexy little smirk again. It shouldn’t do things to you the way it does. It shouldn’t set your whole body on fire. A small curve to her lips, and you want to rip her clothes off? You’re very tragic.

You drag your eyes away from her and scan the floor number you’re on.

“Bloody hell!” You sigh. “Did you really have to book a room on the highest bloody floor? I get it, you’re rich ..but fuck me!”

You drum out your frustrations on the handrail of the lift, it’s slow ascent through the floors seemingly never-ending.

“Are you sobering up?” She asks, and you nod at her, still tapping your hands. “Are you changing your mind?”

You stop your little percussive performance and turn back to face her.

“You’re very convinced that I’m going to back out?”

“I just want you to know that you can.”

It’s genuine from her. It’s not a perverse attempt at guilt tripping, she’s not trying some weird technique of reverse psychology. She genuinely wants you to know that it’s okay if you’re not ready. If your own act of confidence, is exactly that, just an act.

You take her hand and pull her back towards you. She rests her hands on the rail behind you and you lean in very close.

“Do you want me to?” You ask, and she shakes her head. You tilt her face to meet her eyes and you kiss the corner of her mouth. “Well, okay then, and neither do I.” You tell her quietly, your lips feathering hers. “So know, that until I revoke it, you have my consent ..to do whatever.”

“Careful,” she warns, “I might take you up on that.”

It earns you a deep kiss, and another cheeky smirk. There’s exhilaration shooting through your body and this goddamn endless journey through the sky is entirely unbearable.

“It’s very cute, that your hotel is so close to the bar, but it really would’ve been quicker to just go back to mine!” You point out, patting at her hands behind you.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t me that booked it.”

That’s very cryptic. What on earth is that supposed to mean?

“Please don’t tell me your girlfriend’s waiting for you in there.” You tell her, narrowing your eyes as you await an explanation.

“No, it’s a ..business trip.”

That’s still very cryptic.

“A business trip? What do you do for a living?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“No?” You chuckle, arching an eyebrow. “Are you a spy?”

She laughs back at you, shaking her head. “No,” she assures you, “but it’s too personal.”

“Too personal? We’re not allowed to know each other’s careers?”

She shakes her head, and you find yourself smiling slightly with narrowed eyes. It’s very intriguing. If she wants you to be less interested in her, that wasn’t the way to play it.

“So, I’m guessing, I’m also not allowed to even know your name?” You check.

“A.”

“A?” You chuckle, nodding your head. “That’s a very beautiful name!” You tell her, your hand resting on her chest as you push her away from you. “There’s no way your parents were that lazy!”

“It’s my initial.” She tells you, rolling her eyes with that classic little smirk, as she pulls you back with her across to the other side of the elevator. “My first name starts with A.”

“And that’s all you’re giving me?” You ask, resting your hands on the railing behind her as she nods her head. “You really don’t want me to find you after tonight?” You question her, with your tongue tracing the bottom of your teeth. “Haven’t even been with me yet, and you already know you won’t want a repeat?”

She dips her head to kiss you again, and your hands grip at the bar behind her. You pull yourself in towards her, desperate to be closer, and she cradles your head in her hand.

“It’s not that,” she tells you gently, “but I go home tomorrow.”

Shit. That shouldn’t be so surprising to you. She has a thick Spanish accent, she’s staying in a luxury hotel, paid for by a company on her behalf. Of course she isn’t staying in London for very long. What happened to your exceptional detective skills? How did you not work that one out?

“Fuck.” Is all that falls out of your mouth as you pull yourself back from the woman.

“I’m sorry..” she offers, but you shake your head with a heavy sigh.

“No, I should have realised.” You tell her, nibbling at the inside of your mouth.

It’s a bummer, certainly. There’s something between you both. Whether it’s just a physical attraction, a sexual desire, who knows? But it’s there. You can feel it, and you’re positive that she can too. It doesn’t have to be anything deeper than that. That would mean you really did need to do some introspective work on yourself moving forward.

She’s just a woman. The one woman. The world’s most beautiful woman, who’s turned your world upside down, in a matter of hours. Who bought you a drink, that left you confused. That kissed another woman, and left you annoyed. Who refused to let you leave with a random ancient bastard and has saved you from spending a fundamentally flawed night with a limp-dicked disappointment.

And tomorrow she’ll be gone. You only have tonight with her.

You can walk, she’s already told you that. You can turn around now, and not let yourself fall any deeper. Save yourself the pain of a perfect night that you’ll never be able to repeat. Save yourself from spending the rest of your life chasing an experience you can never recreate with someone else.

It’d be hard enough to find her in London. It’ll be impossible to track her down in Spain.

Leave her now, with just the mind-numbing kisses to haunt you for all eternity. Don’t give your soul to a woman you’ll never see again. Don’t let her steal your heart away with her. Don’t ruin a life of enjoying mediocre sex for yourself.

The elevator rings out, signalling your arrival at her floor and you stay rooted to the spot as she slowly makes her exit. She looks back at you, a sad smile replacing her arrogant one.

“I understand.” She tells you, as she disappears down the hall.

You don’t understand. You don’t understand at all why your body feels so drawn to this woman. Why your mind, your heart, your soul are so desperate for you to chase after her. It can only spell trouble for you. One kiss with her sent your head spinning. Anything more than that will undoubtedly result in irreparable damage. How do you recover from that? How do you move on? How do you let yourself make any other meaningful connections with someone after feeling so intoxicated by a woman you know absolutely nothing about?

It isn’t possible for you to feel this way. It doesn’t make any sense. Even if you weren’t straight. Straight straight straight. How the hell can you fall for someone, when you don’t even have the luxury of knowing her first name? You don’t know what she does, you don’t know who she is. She could be an evil mastermind. A dark-sided villain who does terrible things, all the way over in Spain.

Don’t follow her. It’s foolish. It’ll be the worst mistake of your life. A night you can’t take back. An act you can’t undo.

The doors start to close in front of you, and you wedge your foot in between to stop them. You’re an idiot. A damn blasted fool.

But how could you not go after her? How can you not chase after the rush she sends through you? It’s dangerous, it’s messy, but you want her. Even though it’s just for a night. You can’t walk away from a feeling this strong. A yearning so powerful every cell in your body is screaming out for it.

She’s annoying. Frustrating. Beautiful. Enticing. There’s something, and you can’t very well just turn around and walk the other way.

You follow her into the hallway of her floor, and she turns back to face you.

“I thoug—”

“I didn’t revoke.” You tell her, shaking your head as you walk towards her. “I didn’t come up all this way to play cards, and I certainly didn’t come up all this way to go straight back bloody down again!”

She chuckles at you, shaking her head.

“And tomorrow?”

“We’ll deal with that then.” You tell her. “If it’s only meant to be one incredible night, then so be it.”

“You think it’ll be incredible?” She asks, the smirk tugging at her lips.

“With you? ..yes.”

The smirk morphs into a full smile. One that reaches her eyes. One that transforms her whole beautiful face into the most breathtaking radiance as she beams back down at you.

“And what if it’s awful?” She chuckles.

“Then I’ll be packing your bags for you to go in the morning.”

She takes a step to close the distance between you and pulls you in for a slow deep kiss.

“Are you absolutely su—”

“For fuck’s sake!” You whisper, crashing your head to her shoulder to chuckle against her neck. “Yes! I’m sure! I’m very bloody certain, I want you to take me to your room. Yes!”

“Yes ..what?”

She’s incredibly frustrating. Just wilfully annoying. Childish, pathetic, addictive, perfect. She’s everything. She’s absolutely everything.

“Please.”

________________

You don’t hate this woman. She didn’t trick you into bed at all. There’s affection between you, a fondness. It wasn’t a drunken night of angry passion. It was intimate, careful, experimental. Perfect.

You have a desperate need for this woman you’re wrapped up in. A want to have her close, to keep her with you forever. An impossible request. An unattainable, hopeless little prayer.

“You’re leaving today.” You remind her, panting slightly as she calms you from your high.

“I did tell you that.” She whispers, her fingers trailing your stomach.

“I know, I just ..it just hit me.”

You look back to her, and there’s a sadness in her eyes that you can only imagine you’re reflecting back at her with yours. You stroke your thumb over her cheek and lean in for a kiss. It’s soft, impossibly gentle. It’s the most painful way to say goodbye.

“I should go,” you tell her, “my sister will be wondering where I am. Wondering what ..man I hooked up with.” You chuckle a little pulling yourself out of her embrace.

“What will you tell her?”

“He was beautiful.” You admit. “Foreign.. Italian, I think.”

She laughs to the side of you, leaning back over towards you as she shakes her head. She places a kiss on your shoulder, lighting a tiny fire with her mouth.

“I don’t want you to go.” She tells you, placing more kisses to your shoulder, your collarbone, your lips.

You don’t want to go either, not when she’s igniting an inferno inside of your body like this. It’s cruel, it’s sadistic. It’s the perfect way to say goodbye.

“What time’s your flight?” You ask, with a mild desperation to your voice.

“Not till this evening.”

“Do you have to be anywhere else today?”

“Not till this afternoon.”

“So, we still have the rest of the morning?”

“Mhmm.”

“It probably wouldn’t be the worst thing ..if I was late back home.”

“No?”

“Unless you’re kicking me out?”

She has no intention of doing that, as well you know. She straddles herself on top of you, and your heart starts racing again. Her body on full display in front of you. The most beautiful body. She’s in incredible shape. It’d be more intimidating to you, if she hadn’t repeatedly told you how beautiful she thinks you are last night. You’re not in terrible shape yourself, but you definitely felt the need to tense more to give yourself some sort of definition. Her abs are just naturally on full display without any effort from her at all.

“You’re very beautiful.” You tell her, taking her in. “You have very beautiful ..eyes.”

“My eyes are up here.” She tells you, pointedly.

“Mhmm. Very beautiful.” You repeat, ignoring her little biology lesson as you trace your fingers over her curves.

She traps her tongue between her teeth as she smiles down at you, before leaning back in for a bruising kiss.

“You might be my favourite straight girl.” She tells you, and you roll your eyes.

“Might be?” You ask, feigning offence as you push her back up.

“You’re in the top three.” She tells you, smirking.

“Woww.” You draw out sarcastically. “That’s very charitable of you, thanks.”

She chuckles to herself, collapsing back down to run her lips across your chest. She starts trailing lower, and you can tell where she’s heading. She’s already seen to you once this morning, she’s done more than enough. You’d like to repay the favour. Frankly, you could do with a rest.

You grip at her thighs to flip her over, and the smile on her face as you do, has you kicking yourself for not doing it sooner.

“Are you okay?” She asks as your eyes roam over her face.

“Mhmm.” You nod. “I remember ..really enjoying something last night.” You admit, a little cautiously.

“Yeah? I remember you enjoying it too.”

“Did ..did you enjoy it?”

“Mhmm.” She murmurs, and you can feel her body shifting beneath you. “You’re very good with your tongue.”

“Really?” You ask, a little too enthusiastically, as a tiny thrill courses right through you. You have to fight every instinct not to wet your own lips with it as she nods, that small smirk coming back into view. “Did it feel good?”

“Yes.”

“You tasted good.” You breathe, clenching your jaw slightly.

“Are you still claiming to be straight?” She chuckles, her eyebrow arching.

“Mm.” You laugh, collapsing back into her for a kiss. “It’s hanging by a thread.” You admit, smiling into her as her lips move against yours. “Do you want me to?” You ask, a knowing look on your face.

“Yes.” She admits, her back arching as she readjusts herself for you.

“Yes ..what?”

She shakes her head, with a disbelieving smile. Maybe you’re in love with this stranger. Maybe she feels it too.

“..Please.” She whispers, and you don’t need asking twice.

________________

The walk back to the elevator, has no reason being as painful as it is. Even after a morning together between the sheets, a shared shower before a very late breakfast. You’ve still only known this woman a little over 12 hours. You’ve learnt absolutely nothing about her personal life, who she is, why she’s here, whether she’ll ever be back. She knows nothing about you. It isn’t right for there to be a connection between you, when you have no fundamental knowledge of each other. You could have literally nothing in common, and your heart’s tearing itself in two at the thought of her leaving for another country.

Neither of you want to say goodbye to each other. That much is obvious as you tangle your fingers with hers and stare at the button for the lift. Both elevators are on the bottom floor, you’ll still have a few minutes together even if you request it now. You can’t draw an eternity out of a few minutes, but you can savour them. It’s like setting a little timer for you as you press the button. The lift starts its ascension up the floors and the seconds you still have together start to decrease.

“This is insane.” You admit to her, your eyes beginning to sting. “I shouldn’t hate leaving you this much, I don’t even know who you are!”

“I know.” She tells you, with the same shaky breath as you.

She pulls you into her embrace and you cling to the fabric of her sweatshirt for dear life. She’s given you one of her sweatshirts, to stop you looking too dishevelled as you do the walk of shame back home. It’s a bit oversized on you, and she told you you looked adorable when you had to roll the sleeves up a couple times to free your hands.

You sort of wish she’d stop being so sweet to you. Go back to being the annoying woman that had her lips on someone else. Go back to being the weirdly confusing woman with the salt and the limes. Do anything to make saying goodbye to each other just a tiny bit more bearable.

“Imagine if you weren’t straight,” she whispers to the side of your head, “imagine the breakdown you’d be having then!”

She’s an idiot, and it does manage to make you laugh, as warm tears escape your eyes, and you bury your head further into her neck.

She’s not straight, you remember. So, maybe it’s a subtle confession of her own struggle she’s having with you parting ways. She is holding you impossibly tight, like you’ll disappear from right in front of her in a puff of smoke, if she loosens her grip even slightly.

The elevator seems to be soaring through the levels without any people in it. It’s a far more rapid process than it was when it was holding the pair of you hostage last night. That isn’t fair. Who designed that?

“It’s going to be the longest journey of my life going back down without you.” You mumble against her.

“Hopefully you don’t bump into your best friend on the way!”

“For fuck’s sake!” You laugh, pulling yourself from her and wiping at your eyes with your sleeve. “That evil cow!” You let out a sigh and shake your head. “She’ll be fine with me today, to be fair. I’m straight again now!”

“Oh, of course! You can agree with each other about it being disgusting, then!”

“Mm. I mean ..we did do some pretty disgusting things to each other.” You remind her smugly.

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate you giving her all the details.” She winks, and you grin as you pull her back into a hug.

“I really enjoyed it.” You confess to her, quietly. “I really enjoyed being with you.”

“Me too.”

The ding of the elevator signals that your time is up. The moment you’ve been dreading, has finally arrived. You head straight in. You don’t know if it’s better to get a clean break, or prolong the inevitable for as long as possible. The doors start closing, and her foot appears in the gap to keep you for a moment longer.

She fists her hands in her sweatshirt you’re wearing and kisses you across the threshold. It’s one that catches you off guard, but you match the passion in it as soon as you realise what’s happening. The doors try closing on you a few times, but you keep blocking them with a hand. You’re not letting them steal your moment.

She breaks the kiss but keeps her grip on you. You can see the tears in her eyes, feel the ones in yours. It’s ridiculous. You catch one with your thumb as it starts to roll down her cheek and you place a kiss to where you broke its fall.

“If you’re ever back in London..” you tell her, a small smirk on your face, “just ask around for my initial. I’m sure someone will lead you back to me!”

“I’ll have to try.” She tells you earnestly, letting go of your sweatshirt and smoothing it back down for you.

“I really need to go. It’s not possible to make this any easier.” You tell her, pushing her back as the doors start their final closing attempt. “Don’t forget me!”

“I won’t remember anything else.” She tells you, as the doors close, and neither of you have chance to change your minds.

It shouldn’t hurt like this. It was a one-night stand. They’re not rare. The pair of you crying after a single night together? That’s rare. That’s ridiculous.

Collapsing in on yourself as you try to catch your breath without her? That’s insanity.

The tears flow freely as you hold yourself up against the side of the elevator. You pull the neckline of her sweatshirt up over your nose and breathe her in. Playing make believe in your head, that she’s still with you. It’s a souvenir you’ll treasure. A living memory. Proof that it wasn’t a dream, and it certainly wasn’t a nightmare. It was your perfect little night, wrapped up with the world’s most perfect woman. The woman who’s running off back to Spain with your heart in her hand luggage.

All this longing, this desire, this love, for a woman that you barely know. A woman you have no hope in ever finding again. A woman you’ve fallen head over heels for, despite being straight. Straight straight straight.

[thearmyprof]

Hubba Bubba

Rating: E

Pairing: Yoongi/Reader

Word count: 6,450

Genre: Fluff, Non-idol!AU, One-Shot

Warnings: No major warnings, language, soft smut, see full tags below for more details

Summary: Your coworkers insist on meeting at Club Hubba Bubba for a social outing. The night starts out miserable with clique-ish colleagues and a outing that is very not your scene. However, everything takes a turn when you run into a stranger named Yoongi, who proceeds to sweep you off your feet.

TLDR; very soft one-shot with some steaminess.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45192469

This work is also part of the Sound of Music bingo on tumblr for the squares: Butter & Min Yoongi

Tags: Light Angst, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Sexual Content, soft smut, Bullying, Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, mentions of panic attack, a lot of laughter, Giggling, soft, so soft

As you stand in the brisk night air of February, you think about all your life choices that led up to this moment. You watch as one of your coworkers giggles cutely behind her hand and then immediately shifts your eyes away when she side-eyes you. They are all laughing at you, at your expense, you realize. Maybe it hadn’t been a silly mistake after all. Maybe this had been intentional.

You look down at your jeans, torn generously at the knees, your black combat boots, and your iconic Nirvana tee underneath an oversize purple plaid button up, hanging loosely, unbuttoned, off your shoulders. You knew there had been a fuck up somewhere when you approached your group of coworkers at the club line and they were all in neon colored spandex. Their hair was poofy and frizzed out. You had even double-checked the group chat: “meet at Club Hubba Bubba at 8! 90s fashion night, don’t come without a costume!” Judging from the entire line of people waiting to enter the club, everyone had gotten the “1980s”—not 1990s—memo, except you. 

Now that you’ve worked out that it wasn’t a mistake, you realize they must have a separate group chat even—without you—where a clarification of the decade took place. It’s too late to bail though, as the doorman looks you up and down.

“It’s a 30 dollar cover,” is all he says, his lips making a thin, displeased line across his face.

Your colleagues busily all push forward to pay with their phones, as you get yours out of your purse. You briefly think that 30 dollars feels like a steep price to pay for this utter humiliation, but running away now might be even more humiliating. 

The inside of the club is dark, save for the strobing lights on the dance floor. Your group makes their way to a u-shaped table along one side of the room. You drag your feet following them so that you can be on the edge of the u, for a quicker escape if need be. However, your colleagues seem to be aware of your game, calling you out immediately and shoving you in between several of them.

They order a round of drinks and sit back to chat about work. You half listen, half zone out. You imagine what you could be doing right now—including, but not limited to, taking a bubble bath with that pretty bath bomb you bought on impulse last week, listening to music from literally any other decade than the 80s, and certainly not thinking about work outside of working hours.

“Oh, but did you hear that Bradley had a meeting with HR last week?” one of your colleagues says. You squint at her pretty face, trying desperately to remember her name. 

If you’re honest, you don’t really make an effort with your coworkers socially-speaking. They are loud, clique-ish, and bubbly. You are none of those things. You prefer reading or a nice long walk along the river. At the beginning, you chalked the vague bullying as a kind of hazing ritual for being the new person. But, nine months at this position and nothing much has changed. You have been type-cast as the weird loner and now that’s who you are.

Still, company-encouraged social outings seem to be extremely important for some reason. The first time you tried to bow out, you had a manager having a “talk” with you the next day about not being a team player. So, here you sit, squashed between two loud, twittering social butterflies, pretending to nurse a shot of some kind of clear alcohol.

“Bradley is not gonna be around long, just watch,” another person adds to the conversation. You rack your brain for a “Bradley” and get nothing.

“Well, good riddance, he’s gross,” someone else chimes in.

A chorus of giggles erupts with someone shouting, “You can’t just say that.”

You have no idea what’s going on. You feel yourself sink lower on the cushion of the bench. Would they notice if you just kept sliding right down under the table?

You watch the dancers out on the dance floor. There’s a group of men dancing like it’s their livelihood. You feel kind of mesmerized with their fluid rolls and sharp hip thrusts. The bass booms, vibrating the floor underneath you, adding to the otherworldly feel of the moment. As you watch, you feel your cheeks heat and the close press of the women on either side of you suddenly feels that much more claustrophobic. 

“Aw, look at our Miss Wrong Decade, see something you like?” shouts one of your coworkers. The giggles and shrieks erupt all around you.

You stare at the table and will yourself to just vanish into thin air. Suddenly everyone is moving.

“Come on, you should dance with them!” the person next to you is shrieking at you and yanking you by the arm.

“Bet the hot guys would give her a pity dance!” someone else yells.

You feel yourself slide along the bench and are pulled up by your arm. Most of the group has already left for the dance floor and your feet feel like they’ve been made of lead.

“I- I’m not interested in dancing,” you stutter out.

Despite your protests, they pull you into the throng of dancers. Soon, there are bodies all around you, bumping and rubbing up against you in ways that make your blush more furious. It’s very public and you can hear the teasing giggles of your coworkers echoing in your head. You hate this.

You wiggle and slide through the crowd, pulling yourself free from your colleague’s arm and step backwards toward the table again. You keep your eyes down on the floor, avoiding the scathing looks of your coworkers.

You hear their faint protests and mocking your being a wall-flower. Your back bumps into something hard, which you assume is the table. So, you step to your right until you can feel the bench of the “u” behind you and you sit down.

You watch the feet of your coworkers walk away back to the dance floor as you sit frozen in your panic.

“Are you okay?” you hear a deep voice, right in your ear. You jump and whirl around to find the source.

You recognize two things at once. One, the man, with his dark, cat-like stare and dark hair pulled into a half bun on the top of his head, in front of you is the most handsome person you’ve ever seen. Two, you’ve sat down at the wrong booth.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was sitting,” you say. You push yourself up to a standing position immediately, bowing your head in apology.

You startle when you feel a warm hand wrap around your shoulder pulling you up from your bow. The man has stood up and is looking at you with the utmost concern etched into his features.

You swallow down the lump in your throat and say again, “I’m really sorry for intruding.”

“I don’t mind,” he says with a soft smile. “You didn’t want to dance?”

You swallow again, calculating whether this means he is asking you to dance—is he flirting with you—no, wait you sat at his table, not the other way around, or is he just a concerned citizen? You realize you’re just staring at him. You jump a little as you say, “Ah, it’s a lot of people.”

He nods at this, as if this is a perfectly reasonable explanation. “Would you like to sit? I could get you another drink?”

“Oh,” you say. “I, uh, am just drinking club soda tonight, actually.”

He nods again and looks at you like this is a perfectly normal drink to have in a club. He waves his hands back to the booth, guiding you to sit, which you do in a sort of daze. Then he powers off towards the bar, presumably to grab the drinks.

“Who are you?” a tall man with black hair running to his shoulders asks, stepping up to the table. You realize he’s one of the dancers you were ogling earlier. Now would be a great time for someone to pull the fire alarm.

“I, uh,” you glance around for some kind of excuse or explanation. “I think I’m at the wrong table.”

You get up quickly and look around, pretending to look for your table while wildly debating how to escape this whole damn night.

“Hoba, she’s my guest,” says the man coming back with your drinks.

“Oh, your guest,” the new man, ‘Hoba,’ says with a raised eyebrow. He turns back to you and says, “I’m Hoseok. Nice to meet you.”

He looks at you expectantly, while your eyes flit between him and the other man. You take a deep breath and say, “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

“You want to come dance, Y/N?” Hoseok asks with a dazzling smile.

“I’m, uh, I’m okay. Thank you,” you say. The first man hands you your club soda, which you gratefully take just to have something to do with your hands.

“Alright, well, have fun, kids,” Hoseok says with a cheeky click of his tongue and another sensational smile.

You watch as the first man slides into the booth and looks up at you with hesitance. He says, “I’m Yoongi, by the way. Sorry I didn’t get to introduce myself sooner.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say as you slide down next to him in the booth.

You quickly find your anxiety and fears about awkward flirting or stilted conversation are all unfounded. He nurses his whiskey and you your club soda and you talk about a range of subjects from latest reads to work to the quirks of life in the city. You are fascinated by his job as a music producer and are pretty sure you could listen to him speak on the subject for hours. Occasionally, your conversation lapses as you both listen to whatever song is on and just enjoy each other’s presence.

You find out that it’s actually Hoseok’s birthday, which is why Yoongi is at the club at all. He is there with his group of friends, humoring the birthday boy with his wish to have everyone together for the evening. It seems allowing Yoongi to “guard the table” was the compromise to ensure everyone had a good time.

Yoongi even laughs while showing you the e-book he has loaded up on his phone. It’s apparently what he was doing before you had crashed into his booth and upending his plans for the night.

“Y/N!” you hear screeches of your name, with raucous giggles following. Three of your colleagues from work have spotted you and have clearly decided to ruin the one good thing going for you this evening.

You turn quickly and utter a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

He tilts his head and raises his eyebrows in confusion.

Your coworkers stand at the end of the table, eyeing you and Yoongi sitting casually together in the booth. They are still giggly and have mischievous grins on their faces.

One of them, wearing a skin-tight neon pink bodysuit, says, “You should introduce us to your friend, Y/N.”

You shrink into the back of the booth seat as you move your gaze from the expectant faces of your coworkers to the now-steely facade Yoongi has adopted. His eyes flit to your face and then he glances down to take in your whole body posture. He tenses up before looking back at your work colleagues.

You feel the need to say something to break the tension, so you say, “Uh, these are my coworkers. They invited me out tonight. This is, uh, this is Yoongi.”

You watch as they smirk at your shaky introductions and then turn a hungry gaze to Yoongi.

Pink Bodysuit says, “So nice to meet you, Yoongi. Wanna come dance with us?”

You curl into yourself a little more and slide down the seat a fraction, perhaps hoping to disappear completely.

“I’m busy right now,” Yoongi says. His tone is deep and dark. It contains none of the warmth he’d had while speaking with you.

“If you think you’re getting an easy lay, you might want to think twice. Miss Mousy is just a stuck up bitch and is probably playing you,” Pink Bodysuit says.

You feel like you’ve been doused in a tub of cold water. You stare, mouth agape, at Pink Bodysuit. The underhanded bullying and the teasing are one thing, but this is in your face. You can’t think of anything beyond how completely and totally humiliated you feel.

“I, uh, I just remembered- I have to, uh, I have to go,” you stammer out and rush to your feet. Dots dance across your vision, probably from getting up too fast, but also from the panic attack that is threatening to freeze your lungs.

Red hot tears burn your eyes as you push past your awful coworkers and you stumble as you make your way to the exit. You feel the first tear slide down your cheek as you double over on the sidewalk. The cool February air is welcome as it shocks your system, allowing your lungs to gasp in air.

You keep falling forward, eventually letting your knees hit the sidewalk and your right palm pushing out to take some of your weight before you face-plant into the concrete. People walking by give you a wide berth. You let more tears fall and are almost glad no one is stopping to check on you—almost.

You don’t know how much time has passed, probably only a minute or two, when someone wearing a black shirt, black ripped jeans, and a black leather jacket are kneeling directly in front of you. Their hands, fingers adorned with thin silver rings, are clinging to their own knees.

You look up and gulp in surprise when you recognize Yoongi. His cheeks are flushed red and his brow is wrinkled in worry.

“Can you hear me?” he asks.

You try to decipher whether that’s a strange question to ask, but nod all the same.

“Do you think you can stand?” he asks next.

You nod, even though you don’t actually know if that’s the correct answer. He holds out his hands to you, palms up, and you take them into your own hands. They are large, calloused, and warm. Safe, even.

He supports your weight through your hands as you both stand up from your kneeling position on the sidewalk.

“That’s good, you’re okay,” he murmurs.

“I’m so sorry, that was so mortifying,” you manage to say after taking a few deep breaths. “I- I don’t even know how you can look at me after that.”

He gives you the softest smile you think you’ve ever seen. Belatedly, you realize he’s still holding your hands and shows no signs of letting go. People are still walking past you on the sidewalk, but now you can’t find it in you to care.

“At the risk of sounding very, very cheesy, I think the trick is going to convince me to stop looking at you,” Yoongi says.

You make a choked sound as you try to groan and laugh at the same time. You squeeze your eyes shut. “Are you actually real?”

“Afraid so,” he says with his own laugh. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Yes, please,” you say without hesitation.

Yoongi grins at you and then laces your fingers together in one hand before pulling you gently along down the sidewalk.

~

You casually wonder if the 80s, as a whole decade, is just out to haunt you this evening. You look around the small diner, completely decked out in 1980s decor. At least this place seems to be quieter than the club, with Blondie singing at reasonable decibels over the sound system.

“So, I don’t want to pry, but are you coworkers always that shitty?” Yoongi asks after you place your orders with the server.

“Uh,” you say before clearing your throat. “No, I mean, they are shitty, yes. But not, uh, usually that obvious about it.”

You shrug in an attempt to say this was not a big deal, like you hadn’t just had a panic attack in front of a whole ass club less than an hour ago.

Yoongi just nods, eyes searching your face.

“You left your friend’s birthday party,” you say.

Yoongi blinks for a moment before it’s his turn to shrug. “He’ll understand.”

Your mouth drops open and then snaps shut again, before you say, “You, uh, aren’t actually going to tell him what happened? Right?”

Yoongi studies your face before saying, “You don’t want me to tell him.”

“Uh, well, it was- is mortifying,” you say. You are really hoping this is obvious.

“The only people who should be embarrassed are those vapid people you have the misfortune of working with,” he says.

“Oh,” you say.

“So, Nirvana?” Yoongi asks.

You stare for a minute trying to understand the sudden change of topic. He waves at you. You look down and remember your shirt.

“Oh, yeah, they told me it was a 90s theme at the club,” you say. You add a little more quietly, “And, honestly, this is how I dress outside of work, anyway.”

“Well, their first album was published in 1989, so technically, you are in theme,” he says dryly. “Not everyone in the 80s wore obnoxiously neon spandex.”

You snort at this, a little mad you hadn’t thought of this clap back when your coworkers were torturing you earlier. Then you start laughing and can’t stop. You can feel the tears pricking at your eyes and your sides start to hurt, but you can’t stop.

Yoongi sits with a small smirk on his face, watching you. There’s a warm light in his eyes. As you start to sober up again from your hysterical laughing fit, you return the fondness with a smile of your own. You think very briefly about the childish hatred of your coworkers and how in one fell swoop, this man in front of you makes you feel like shrugging and saying, “eh, let them hate me.” Here this man is acting as the perfect mirror for you to understand the simple answers in life. Your smile grows.

“Can I have your number?” you ask.

Your reward for your impulsive bravery is the most adorably heart-melting smile you have ever seen. Worth it.

~

“Thanks so much for walking me home,” you murmur.

You’re standing outside your apartment building and want to kick yourself for not coming up with a clever way to make the evening last longer. You really don’t want to part yet. You kick the toe of your boot with the heel of the other.

You are holding hands again. You have been since leaving the diner. You look at your fingers woven tightly together. You don’t want to let go.

“It’s no problem,” Yoongi says. “I’m happy you accidentally sat in my booth.”

You huff out a laugh at that. You look up to his face, smile slipping into something more serious, and say, “Me, too.”

Yoongi leans forward, slowly, and when your brain catches up to what’s happening, you meet him in the last moments. His lips are a bit chapped, but gentle. You step closer to his body, not willing to let him pull away from the kiss. With your free hand you clutch at his shoulder, pulling yourself even closer.

You don’t know how long you stand pressing your lips together, before he’s pulling back just far enough to let you both breathe for a moment.

Into the air between the two of you, you whisper, “Please, don’t go.”

This close to his face, you can hear and feel his breath hitch. So, you double down and whisper again, “Please.”

He closes in on your lips again and kisses a little more fervently this time. Not breaching with his tongue, but setting a rhythm to the kiss that has you fighting to keep your knees from buckling.

This time when you break apart to breathe, you turn towards your apartment building and pull him by the hand you still have firmly grasped in your own. He doesn’t resist.

You stand shoulder to shoulder, next to each other in the elevator. You squeeze his hand. He looks towards you and you exchange small smiles.

You fumble with the keypad to your flat. 

“You don’t know the code to your own apartment?” Yoongi teases.

“Ah, I might be a little nervous,” you say with a chuckle.

“Hey,” he calls softly. You look up at him. “You don’t need to be nervous. Nothing will happen that you don’t want.”

You smile at him. “I know. I’m a- It’s a good nervous. I don’t, uh, do this much- or ever.”

You turn back to the keypad before you can freak out from whatever facial expression he might be making at your boldness. You breathe a sigh of thanks when you get the code right this time.

The light over the door inside the apartment clicks on automatically as you pull Yoongi in through the threshold. In your head, you envision the front door closing, Yoongi pulling you into a passionate kiss, both of you a tangle of limbs and shedding clothing as you stumble your way to the bedroom in the dark, and land in a heap of fiery passion on your bed. Of course, that’s what happens in movies or maybe for those giggling neon pink spandex coworkers. Not you and your awkwardness.

The door shuts with a soft clink and a beep behind you as you both silently bend over to unlace and take off your boots. Yoongi takes off his leather jacket and hangs it on an open hanger over the shoe rack. The automatic light clicks off and you are engulfed in soft darkness, the only light coming in faint from the city lights through the window in your living room.

“Ah, sorry,” you say as you hurry forward to push the button that turns the lights on in the living room.

You glance around nervously, glad you had spent the time earlier that day cleaning to work out the nerves about going out this evening. The apartment isn’t big, and honestly not much lived in. You spend a lot of time at work, being the new person still trying to make their mark on the company. You mostly come home, watch a bit of TV, and then read or sleep in bed. A quiet life, to make up for the too-much-drama that is your workplace maybe.

The room is enough to hold a medium-sized TV with a loveseat. You have a plant in the window that boasts a semi-impressive view, only blocked partially by another high rise in front. If you tilt just right, you can see a pretty good view of downtown, especially on clear nights, with the city lights twinkling. The kitchen is also modest, just right off the living, separated by the small breakfast bar. No room for an actual dining table.

“It’s, uh, not much,” you say.

“This is great,” Yoongi murmurs as he walks around the living room. He pauses to look at the photos on the wall.

“Thanks,” you say. “You, uh, can I get you something to drink?”

Yoongi turns and looks at you with a smile. “Sure.”

Having something to do, you spring into action, stepping over to the kitchen. You open the small fridge and cringe. “I, uh, I have water? I might have some tea.”

You slide over to the draw and pull it out. “Yeah, I have some green tea?”

“Green tea sounds good,” Yoongi says, still looking at your decorations. He pauses to admire the view.

You quickly put water from the bottle in the fridge into the electric kettle to boil. You pull two mugs from the cabinet and pull out bags of tea. “Sorry, it’s just tea bags. I don’t have company over enough to spring for anything fancier.”

Yoongi huffs a short laugh. “It’s fine.”

When the tea is ready you motion to the loveseat and bring the mugs into the living room with you. You set them on the coasters on the small coffee table, so that you can grab the throw from the back of the couch to put on your lap. After fiddling with it and settling yourself in, you pull up a lo-fi fireplace channel on the TV to fill the silence a bit.

After a few minutes of sitting together and sipping tea, you feel compelled to fill the quiet. “So, what, uh, book were you reading tonight?”

Yoongi smiles into his mug and proceeds to regale you with not only the book title, but an interesting backstory about the author and finishes with recommending you check it out. You respond with an animated recommendation of your own. The conversation flows easily and you cannot for the life of you remember why you were ever anxious around him.

Somehow, without you realizing, you both move closer and closer to the center of the loveseat. Soon, you are pressed up to one another and Yoongi has an arm slung casually behind you on the back of the couch. With the warmth of Yoongi’s almost-embrace, the gentle sounds from the TV, and the late hour, a wave of exhaustion washes over you.

As Yoongi is talking, you let the weight of your head rest on his shoulder and your eyes drift closed. Just for a moment. Then you realize how quiet it is. Your eyes snap open.

“Sorry!” you murmur. “I think I drifted off.”

You can feel more than hear Yoongi’s laugh with your side pressed into his. He says, his voice husky, “You were only asleep for maybe 10 minutes. I was just going to let you sleep. It’s late.”

You shake your head and realize he’s turned off the TV, which is why it’s so quiet now. You swivel yourself so that you are facing him and then scooch up so that you can reach his face with yours.

Rather than the burning passion you had imagined when you first invited Yoongi into your apartment, the kiss is soft, caring, slow. The almost-embrace becomes a full embrace as Yoongi pulls his arms around you. You settle in further by pulling your hands to his chest and grab at the fabric there.

As you melt into him, you let your nerves go and bite at his lower lip playfully. The moan he lets out in reaction goes straight to your core, lighting you on fire. You let out a pitiful whine in response and Yoongi tentatively slips his tongue out to meet yours. Rather than it feeling like a fight for space and dominance, the kissing feels more like a gentle appreciation of one another. You feel special, seen, full of care and cared for.

When you finally pull apart to breathe, you don’t hesitate to stand up and reach out for Yoongi’s hand. He looks at you for a moment before placing his hand in your outstretched one. You grasp at it and pull him up to stand with you. You stand on tip-toe to place a sweet kiss on his cheek. Then you squeeze his hand and you pull him around the loveseat and towards your bedroom door.

When you step into the dimly lit room, you take two seconds to thank your past self again for the anxiety-induced cleaning frenzy you went on earlier. 

You pull him into the dark room and hesitate before going straight to the bed.

“Uh, I just-” you start. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You feel Yoongi go completely still next to you.

You try again, “I just hope that this isn’t, uh, like a one time thing. Just to be clear. I don’t want this to be just tonight. Sorry, probably being a total buzzkill.”

You feel your face heat up and you stare down and your sock-covered toes.

You feel the warmth from Yoongi’s palm as he cups your cheek and lifts your face so that you’ll look at him. He has a soft smile on his lips. Your stomach feels like it’s doing back flips. 

He leans in and plants a chaste kiss on your lips before he says, “I have every intention of making you breakfast in the morning.”

He kisses you again and you feel your knees wobble a little, you squeeze his hand a little tighter to keep yourself upright. “And I will probably try very hard to wait to call you until tomorrow evening, so as to not overwhelm you.”

He kisses your lips, a little harder this time, with a little teeth grazing your lower lip as he pulls away a fraction. “And I will ask you if you’re free next weekend to take you out on a proper date.”

More kissing, his tongue swiping along the seam of your mouth, which you readily meet with your own. He pulls back again and says, “And then hopefully every weekend after that. Unless I get greedy and want to meet you for lunch in town sooner.”

You are the one to pull him in this time, reaching your fingers up to tangle in his hair. You step backwards towards the bed, while keeping your lips locked on his.

You let out a small grunt when you accidentally hit the bed frame too hard. Then you laugh as you fall backwards. Yoongi, not realizing what is happening until it’s too late, follows you down and manages to roll slightly midair so he doesn’t crush you completely with his weight. You don't stop kissing, but both of you are laughing now, smiling as you kiss, teeth knocking awkwardly.

When you pull back to try to catch your breath and regain the mood, you pant out, “I don’t think you’ll overwhelm me. Call me whenever you want.”

Yoongi leans over the top of you and kisses you again. This time slower, but you can feel the tension that’s building between your bodies. Hands that were cautious before now wander more freely. You slip your fingers under Yoongi’s shirt, tracing up his abs to his pecs. You appreciate how quickly his nipples harden under your touch.

In one swift movement, Yoongi reaches behind himself and pulls his shirt off. Quickly, returns to tracing your lips, jawline, and throat with his lips and tongue. You grab onto his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself. You can feel the heat leaving a trail on your skin as Yoongi soothing draws a hand down your side, over your shirt, before squeezing lightly at your waist. His hand glides lower to wrap around your hip, the weight of which makes you realize you’ve been canting your hips slightly forward and back, your body chasing some kind of friction. That realization makes you moan—jarringly loud for the quiet of the room.

You feel your face burn a scorching red in the embarrassment of how turned on you are. When Yoongi stops kissing you and looks up into your face, you realize you’ve stilled your body. You pull one hand from his shoulder and cover your mouth and nose with your palm. The sleeve of your plaid shirt is hiding your fingers, which just reminds you of how very dressed you are while Yoongi is topless.

“‘M sorry,” you mumble behind your hand.

Yoongi gives a low chuckle. While pulling your hand away from your face gently by the wrist, he murmurs, “You don’t need to hide from me.”

You feel a giggle bubble up inside of you and you attempt to swallow it down, which leaves you making an awkward squeaking cough. Yoongi looks surprised and moves his hand from your wrist to pat circles into your back.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Just horribly awkward and embarrassed now, I’m fine,” you say while shaking your head. Another giggle escapes you. You squeeze your eyes shut and grit out with a clenched jaw, “Wow, what the fuck.”

Yoongi laughs loudly and rolls onto his back on the bed. The arm closer to the mattress gets pulled along with his body and ends up sort of tucked under his neck. He’s still laughing and you feel another giggle burst out of you.

“I- I don’t giggle,” you say, exasperated.

“Really?” Yoongi says while still laughing.

“Really!” you exclaim, staring forlornly at the ceiling. “I’m not a giggler.”

After another beat, Yoongi rolls back over onto one elbow so he’s leaning over you. He looks at you with a brilliant smile, making you catch your breath. With his free hand he’s pushing your hair behind your ear. His own hair has come loose from its tie and is now hanging down around his face. You mimic his motions by lifting your hand to tuck some of the strands behind his ear.

“Okay,” he whispers. His thumb is now caressing your cheek.

“Okay?” you ask with a raised brow.

“Okay, you’re not a giggler,” he clarifies. His smile reaches his eyes, making them crinkle at the edges.

Instead of the million wonderful comebacks you are sure would normally be on the tip of your tongue, you push yourself up to find his lips again with yours. You run your hands through his now-free hair and whimper at how amazing it feels to be able to tangle your fingers in the long locks.

Soon enough more clothes are being shed and you are nestling at the head of your bed, exploring each other’s bodies. There’s no pressure to rush and you both take the luxury of pressing soft kisses everywhere. With the gentleness, the hesitation you felt earlier is completely gone.

When he’s tenderly entering you with a smooth motion, you’re both gasping into one another’s mouths, swallowing each other’s moans. He sets a steady, unrushed rhythm that your body naturally curves in to meet with each thrust. You revel in the feeling while twisting your fingers in his soft hair. You can feel your toes curl as your orgasm builds. Yoongi’s hands are caressing your skin. To you, he feels like he’s everywhere, touching every part of you at once.

Without any warning, the white hot ecstasy of your orgasm makes all the muscles in your body tense. Instead of crying out, you swallow your moans in surprise. Yoongi slows down, but doesn’t stop his ministrations as you ride out wave after wave of pleasure. He picks up the pace a bit as soon as your muscles relax again and you can almost immediately feel another orgasm building in your core.

You know Yoongi is close when his own muscles get more taunt and his pace slows, but his thrusts are harder, more targeted. He opens his mouth, perhaps to warn you, but you pull his face down to yours and you kiss him deeply.

Between the passionate kiss and Yoongi groaning as his own orgasm takes over, you feel another wave crest and your vision goes white again. You think every cell in your body is screaming in bliss. As you come down from your respective highs, your bodies melt into one another. The kissing and touching does not stop for a while, only interrupted briefly when you help clean each other up, disposing of the used condom, and laughing through brushing teeth together in your small bathroom.

Dawn light is creeping through the window as you curl up under the covers of your bed. Yoongi runs his fingers lightly through your hair in a soothing, repetitive motion until your eyelids are too heavy to lift.

~

You wake up to the sun streaming through your tiny bedroom window. You rub your eyes, sit up, and realize the bed is empty. A lump forms in your throat. You quickly get up and throw some clothes on before peaking out into the living area. It’s empty.

“Fuck,” you groan.

You walk out to the quiet space and try to sort out your emotions. You don’t really want to cry. You also feel a bit stupid.

You startle when there’s a buzz at the door. You walk over to the intercom and press the button. 

“Who is it?” you say.

There’s a pause, a delay in the intercom, and then a familiar voice, “Yoongi. Can you let me in? It’s freezing out here.”

You let out a giggle—thankful no one is in the apartment to hear you—and press the button to let Yoongi into the building.

You race to the bathroom to brush your teeth, now that you know Yoongi is coming back.

When you open the door for him after he knocks, he stands with his arms full of plastic bags. You quirk your brow at him.

He steps inside, placing the bags on the floor in order to take his shoes and jacket off.

“I said I would make you breakfast, but you had absolutely nothing edible in your kitchen,” he states. He turns from hanging his jacket up to smile at you.

“Oh.” You feel your face heating up and you don’t know if that’s embarrassment at the state of your pantry or the blooming feelings you have for this man in front of you. Both, probably both.

The man can cook. Breakfast is delicious. He stands at the door with his shoes and jacket on, clearly as reluctant to finally leave as you are to see him go.

“Thank you,” you say. You see the slight confusion on his face and add, “For breakfast.”

He smiles at that and waves a hand to shrug it off.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says. He leans in and gives you a tender kiss that makes you want to keep being greedy for more.

“See you soon,” you say.

Then he’s out the door, turning back to give you another beautiful gum-filled smile, and disappearing as the door shuts with a click.

You walk back into your living room feeling a little empty in the now-too-quiet space. As you take a seat on the couch, your phone begins ringing.

“Hello?” you answer.

“You said I wouldn’t overwhelm you if I called you when I wanted to instead of waiting until a reasonable time had passed,” Yoongi says.

You laugh. “I did say that, yes. And it’s still true today.”

“Good,” Yoongi says. You can close your eyes and see his soft smile as he walks down the city street below your apartment.

Grinning wide, you ask, “Are you free for lunch tomorrow?”

[starlsssankt]

@an-endless-saga​ /

Some days she found her family's descent into this life like a fever dream. She still remembered the days when she dined on china and shoped at Brunello Cucinelli. Old money and old relatives had done nothing for them.

She still remembered the day her family had split up. Their father was dead, shot by an old associate. Her older brother and sisters had been whisked away by her father's people. Her younger siblings had been taken by her father's family. She wondered sometimes why she and Jurian weren't taken by anyone.

Why had they been sold to this family? Why were they forced into this when no one else was? It's not like she could ask her mother - she'd killed herself shortly giving them away.

Anastasiya exhaled and smoothed her clothes down. What barely passed as clothes. She looked at the tiny mirror in her vanity. She had a job to do, what did the past matter now?

She left her room and stepped onto the stage as the music changed. She supposed it was nice she actually liked to dance.

𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄, to meet potential associates here. In fact, this meeting has been one his mother has been insisting he keep. Aleksander isn’t sure why, of course. The family is an old one, a powerful one. But not any more so than his own. The Morozovas own this town, save for a few places that still claimed to wear white hats. 

He turns his head, as the other man speaks about some transaction or another. The entertainment on stage is mostly ignored, as one stripper grinds on the pole; he knows another is soon to take their place, as well; Aleksander has been at this place long enough to have seen five different sets. 

This meeting is one that he doubts will ever end. 

Aleksander rolls his eyes. ❝ If you want to work with me, with my family, insulting my mother isn’t a step in the right direction, Dmitri. ❞ He takes a swig of his drink, the ice clinking in the glass as the amber liquid floats around inside too. It warms him, but he’s quickly growing weary of this conversation. The other man, it seems, is intent on boring him and-- 

The music shifts again in the club, the lights so dark except the strobes and neon colors flashing, that in a way, make the whole scene tacky. Nauseating. Aleksander isn’t impressed with this particular establishment, and he’s on the verge of telling Dmitri such a thing when the newest stripper takes to the stage. 

Dmitri is still talking, of course, but Aleksander has long since tuned him out. He wonders if he can find out the name of this particular beauty... 

[insomniamamma]

Tricks (Or how Bee Girl got seduced into a life of crime): Ezra x F!Reader w/ Cee

A/n: This is a very belated writer Wednesday fic that took on a life of its own. Halloween is my favorite holiday and there's always people who bitch about folks driving in from bad neighborhoods to trick-or-treat in good ones, or kids who are too old to trick or treat. Those people can all get fucked. This takes place in the Liminal AU. Reader is Ezra's neighbor. Established relationship. Ezra is Cee's uncle/legal guardian. Modern AU. @autumnleaves1991-blog​ @clydesducktape​

Warnings: Language. Ableism. Food and alcohol. Mentions of Reader's ex, known as The Asshole. Mentions of infertility. Ezra overshares. A little bit of spice. Implied sex but nothing graphic.

          Every neighborhood has one. That one person who knows everyone's business and has no problem yapping about it to anyone within ear-shot. That one person who feels entitled to the private lives of everyone on the block. Yours is Marcie.          When you and your ex separated she was all cookies and casseroles and prying for the juicy details. Ezra's house had stood empty while he was hospitalized, you'd brought in his mail and mowed his lawn and opened the windows occasionally so the house wouldn't be all stale and dusty when he came back home and Marcie would be there watching her dog take a shit in your petunias and saying they were both high, both of them with that little girl in the car, can you imagine?          When you hear her calling hi Dearie, wandering across the street with her dog, (a perpetually angry little ball of fluff named Mr. Tiddly-Winks, whatever the fuck that means), you grit your teeth knowing you're going to get a run-down of neighborhood gossip whether you want it or not.          "Have you met those two men who moved into the Winslow's old place?" Her voice dropped into a conspiratorial just us girls kind of tone, "I think they're Homosexuals." You could hear the capitalization. And it took everything in you not the make some snarky reply. Marcie and her husband are retired, older than you, and it feels wrong somehow, telling her to take her gossip and shove it. You honestly pity her a little, her what has this world come to grievances are locked in like gears. Christmas is always about The War On Christmas. Easter is always about Jesus died for our sins and they've made it all about  candy and rabbits. Shut up Karen, you think, but don't say. Ok, Boomer, you think but don't say.          "I can't believe they placed that little girl with him," says Marcie, glancing, narrow eyed at Ezra and Cee while they fuss over a couple flats of flowers, marigolds and snapdragons. "I don't like how he looks at her."          "Ezra is Cee's only living family," you say, trying to keep your tone bland but inside you're already seeing red, you know where this is going. "Would you rather see her in foster care?"          "Of course not! Not at all! But a little girl and a single middle-aged man? Doesn't that seem strange to you, Dearie?" You fix Marcie with your blandest stare.          "No," you say, "Not really."  And go back to watering your tomatoes. She huffs.          "Well, you have a nice day now, Dearie."          "You too."

         Marcie's take on Halloween is what pisses you off the most about her. Your neighborhood, your block in particular tends to go all out for Halloween. Everyone sits outside on their porches or in their front yards handing out candy. Everyone decorates their houses to the nines, jack o lanterns, and inflatable figures and fairy lights and strobes and fake bones crawling up out of the ground. Every year she has something to say about how the decorations are too scary for little kids. Every year she whines about how those people on the other side of the highway drive into your neighborhood to trick-or-treat.         Everyone knows this happens and no-one else except Marcie gives a shit. The way she always mentions it just pisses you off on a cellular level. It's candy! You want to scream in her face, It's candy what the fuck is wrong with you? But you don't because like as not, she's your neighbor and she's the one whose going to call the fire department (or not) if your house gets stuck by lightning while you're out of town.          Marcie and her little dog make their way down the street, leaving you to put out your Halloween decorations in peace, fake cobwebs and glow in the dark skeletons and purple lights strung from the porch balanced on a kitchen chair so you can reach the cable anchors you've stuck along the ceiling.          "Looks like you just got a visit from Bob," says Cee. She's made a habit of wandering across the street to talk to you when she sees you outside.          "Gimme a couple of those zip ties would you?" You ask and hold your hand down, and Cee pushes them into your waiting palm. "Who's Bob?"          "B-O-B," she spells it out for you, "It's an acronym." You stop what you're doing and look down on her. She's got that up to no good smirk on her face.          "I'll bite. What's Bob an acronym for?"          "Bitter Old Bag." Cee smiles but there's bite behind it. Rumors flew after the accident. Marcie didn't start them but she certainly passed along every bit of gossip she heard.          "That's a good one," you say, "I'll have to remember that one. I'm always afraid I'm going to slip and call her 'Karen' by mistake. I'm a lot less likely to call her Bob." Cee grins.          "Hey Cee!" Ezra hollers from across the street, "Little help?"          "Gotta go help Ez with some finishing touches."          "What are you guys dressing as?"          "You'll see."

         Trick-or-treat goes from six to eight, and it feels odd to you that such a thing would be scheduled. Your memories of Halloween from when you were a kid do not include a time-frame, you remember going door to door until you got too cold or until everyone's lights were out or until it started raining. Maybe your folks were checking their watches the whole time, counting down to some deadline you weren't aware of. It's about quarter 'til and the block is setting up shop. You've got a camp chair in your front yard, a bowl of candy with more stashed on the porch. And, just like clockwork, here comes Marcie, with Mr. Tiddly-Winks barking his weird strangled bark.          "Oh, look at you!" She exclaims, "That is just darling!"          "Thanks," you say and you mean it, "I found the tutu at a garage sale and the rest just kind of happened." Marcie is dressed like a witch, her husband, Jim, is dressed as a black cat, hunched over, lighting the candles inside the jack-o-lanterns on their front steps.          "Hey Marcie!" says Ezra.          "Hi Mrs Davenport!" says Cee. Marcie freezes and you snort laughter. Ezra wears swim trunks, flip-flops, shitty drug-store sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt. The right sleeve is shredded and red-stained. Ezra's stump is coated in fake blood and something that looks unsettlingly chunky. And Cee? Cee is dressed like a shark, the shark's mouth frames her face, but she's made some modifications, a fake rubber hand sticks out of the side of the shark's mouth like a cigar and Cee has applied ample fake blood to her costume as well. Marcie just stands there.          "Oh my God," says Ezra, taking in your costume, the black tutu with yellow trim, yellow top, cut up striped tights on your arms, pipe cleaner antennae on your head, "You're Bee Girl!" You do the world's worst tap-dance there in the street and Ezra gives you one of those brilliant smiles, all dimples and teeth and crinkled eyes and Cee is giving Marcie a lesson on do it yourself special effects makeup.          "--I wanted the end of his stump to look chewed so I took some liquid latex and mixed it with dry oatmeal so it's got that kinda chunky look, and then I just went nuts with the fake blood. You can't use too much fake blood. Did you know fake blood is mint flavored? Anyway, we were kinda worried he'd have a reaction so we did a patch test a couple days ago and I used plenty of barrier spray so--"          "Do you really think this is appropriate?" says Marcie. Ezra puts on his best dumb face.          "I am a man with one arm dressing up as a man with one arm," says Ezra, "I fail to see how appropriateness comes into the conversation." Ezra is smiling, but it's that sharp edged smile that means he is about to destroy someone in an argument. You've been around long enough to hear him verbally flay people who have no idea they've stepped into it, like the frog in the saucepan who doesn't realize he's soup because the water heats so slowly.          "Well," says Marcie, making a big show of looking at her watch, "I have to get Mr. Tiddly-Winks crated before those kids start coming around. He's scared of children."          "Yep," says Ezra, "We best batten down the hatches before the seething throngs arrive demanding sugar." Marcie narrows her eyes at Ezra and he beams back. She huffs and turns on her heels, small angry dog trotting along beside her.  Cee pulls a face at her retreating back.          "You should come on over after the kids go home--"          "Yeah, we're gonna have a fire in the fire-pit," says Cee. "We're gonna do banana boats."          "Yeah? That sounds great."

         Trick-or-treat goes much as it always does, the usual parade of witches and vampires and zombies and Marvel and Star Wars characters. As always, there's older kids in  the mix, who say trick or treat but don't quite make eye contact, and your heart always breaks for them a little, you remember how that felt, knowing that you were going to grow up wether you wanted to or not, knowing that adulthood was inevitable and hating it. You've never understood how people could be so pissy about handing out candy to the older kids. Just let them be kids for a little while longer. Why is that so hard? At eight o'clock the streets empty like flicking a switch. All up and down the block people's porch  lights go off, and you wonder when things became so structured? So proscribed?          "Hey Sunshine!" Ezra calls from his front porch, "Come on over and we'll get that fire going."          "I'll be right over." Your first thought is to change out of your costume, but it's fun being Bee Girl, so you just throw on a hoodie. Some of the older parents caught the reference, but most were clueless.          "If you and Cee would be so kind," says Ezra, indicating the fire-pit already stacked with dry wood and kindling, "I've got to wash this shit off. It itches."          "Big baby," says Cee. "Hey!" She calls to his retreating back, "Make sure you use some lotion. Don't want your skin to dry out."          "You really nailed the make-up," you tell her, "It was pretty gross."          "Thanks," says Cee, "I was going for gross, but not, like, Tokyo Gore Police type gross."          "I have no idea what that means." Cee laughs as she hunkers over the fire-pit, lighting a bit of rolled up newspaper that's tucked beneath the neat pyramid of wood and kindling.          "I was gonna have a snapped-off humerus sticking out of the rest of the mess, but Ez thought that was a little too much," says Cee. The fire catches, bits of paper flaring bright yellow, white smoke rising from the nest of kindling. Cee blows into the heart of the fire and is rewarded with bright flames. "There we go. We're gonna have to wait a little for the coals to get good. But then it's banana boats for days."          "I'm excited. I can't even remember the last time I had a banana boat." Cee smiles and her eyes go far away for a moment.          "When I was little me and Dad and Ez would go on a big camping trip every summer," she says, "Dad would heat up baked beans and canned potatoes on the little Coleman stove and we'd cook hotdogs on sticks over the fire. And after that we'd do banana boats in the coals. When I was real small I'd fall asleep in one of those camp chairs by the fire and Dad would carry me into the tent and put me to bed..." She trails off, her face clouds, "That was before things got weird with Dad. We kinda fell out of the habit I guess."          "Hey ladies," says Ezra.          "My turn," says Cee, "It's too hot in this thing."          "Feel better?"          "I do," says Ezra, "The bathroom resembles the aftermath of a GWAR concert, though. I suspect our grout will be pink for some time." His arm drifts around your waist and you lean into him, relishing his solidity, his warmth, the gentle press of his body against yours.          "Are you having a Halloween party?" Marcie's voice shatters your reverie. There she is, still in her witch costume with her dog on his leash. Mr. Tiddly-Winks looks you in the eye while he craps in the weedy clover by Ezra's driveway.          "Nope," says Ezra, fake cheeriness bright in his voice, "Just a little back yard cook out. We'll be quiet as little mice. Promise."          "I should hope so," she gives the two of you a narrow-eyed look, "You have a nice night." She tugs on Mr. Tiddly-Winks's leash and heads off down the block.          "You too, Marcie!" Ezra calls to her retreating back, and then dropping his voice so only you can hear, "Wanna talk about an appropriate costume..." You huff laughter and draw closer to him, threading your arm around his waist. You lapse into companionable silence, peering into the fire, the soft hiss and crackle of is its own music. People have been staring into fires since they first figured out how to make them, you turn to say something like this to Ezra, but you are struck by the way the flames paint his face in shifting light, crescent scar on his cheek a flickering gold thread, the strong curve of his nose, the column of his throat, tender Cupid's bow of his lips. He turns towards you, catches you staring.          "Penny for your thoughts, Sunshine," he says. You shrug.          "Just admiring the view."          "View's pretty good from here too, Bee Girl." You poke him in the ribs.          "Keep it up. Flattery will get you everywhere." He raises one eyebrow and smirks, a cartoonish leer that always makes you giggle.          "Bold worlds, Sunny, what exactly does 'everywhere' entail?"          "I think you know some of the landmarks--" Behind you Cee clears her throat.          "I grabbed you guys some beers if you can stop being gross long enough to drink them." Cee hands you yours and then twists the cap for Ezra. Her face is still streaked in crusty fake blood.          "You know that'll stain if you don't wash it off, Birdie," Cee rolls her eyes at him, prods at the fire with a long stick, adds another couple logs and the dry wood flares bright, sparks whirl up towards the dark sky. She smiles, holding her hands out to warm them, her hair blazes like a crown in the firelight.          "You all wanna give me a hand with the folding table?" Asks Cee, "We get things set up now, the coals'll probably be good by the time we're done."

          You and Cee set up the folding table and Ezra holds the door while Cee passes you supplies from their narrow galley kitchen. Foil and marshmallows and chocolate chips, peanut butter and  jelly and raisins and roasted peanuts and maraschino cherries. And three bunches of bananas.          "Dang, Cee, how many banana boats do you think three people can eat?"          "Better to err on the side of more," says Cee, "Besides, if these get squishy we can do banana bread." Cee looks at you with a cocked eyebrow, "You ever have French toast made with banana bread? That's the shit right there."          "That sounds amazing actually."          "It's like having cake for breakfast." Says Cee,"You should try it sometime." She flashes you a knowing smile. She retreats back into the kitchen and hands you a cookie sheet with three foil-wrapped bananas, ready to be to be roasted.          "What've we got here?" Asks Ezra.          "That's for me to know and you to find out," says Cee.

         "I think you better bust out those double top secret classified banana boats now, Little Bird," says Ezra.          "What? You guys have each only had two," says Cee, "That's not a lot."          "You're a growing child," says Ezra, "You have two hollow legs to shake those banana boats down in to."          "Fine," says Cee, "Pussies."          "Language!" Cee pays him no mind, uses her poker-stick to shift the wood around just so, eyes narrowed in concentration, lays the foil wrapped bananas in the coals with long barbecue tongs as if she's handling live explosives. She grins big and drums her fingers together like a cartoon villain. "And now...we wait."          "I present to you, the Fat Elvis," says Cee waving her hand theatrically over the steaming foil packs, there's little hisses of pain all around as the three of you work them open, steam hitting eager fingers. Cee helps Ez with his. He's not wearing his arm. Taking this thing off is the best part of my day, he told you once, it rubs.          "You good?" Asks Cee and Ezra nods, and you are struck, not for the first time, at how much they care for each other. "Okay, guys, dig in." You scoop out a bunch of hot banana pulp, remember to blow on it this time, and tuck it in your mouth.          "Oh my god," you mumble.          "This is decadent," says Ezra.          "There's bacon in this," you say.          "Duh," says Cee, "Elvis Presley had a thing for fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches with bacon in em."          "And the marshmallows?" asks Ezra, mouth full and muffled. Cee giggles.          "That's what makes it a Fat Elvis," she says, "What do you guys think?"          "You could sell these out of a bougie food truck for eleven dollars a pop," you say. Cee laughs.          "Can you imagine? A food truck that just does banana boats? That would be the shit!," she says, "What do you think, Ez?" Ezra just makes a bunch of full-mouthed mumbles and you and Cee laugh.          "I'd say he likes it."          Eventually Cee gets too cold and goes in. You and Ezra stay by the slowly dying fire, crowding in closer rather than adding more wood.          "You getting cold?"          "I'm still good." The wind has begun to pick up, sighing through the trees. Marcie and Jim's motion-light comes on, bright as a supernova, and sure as clockwork, you can hear Mr. Tiddly-wink's strangled bark from across the street.          "I like dogs," says Ezra, "I like animals in general, but if I ever catch that little rat-bastard off his leash I will drop kick him out of my yard."          "You kick Mr. Tiddly-Winks like the football?"          "You're goddamn right I will," he says,"She never picks up after that thing. I get mightily sick of stepping in dog shit every time I gotta mow my lawn. You remember that e-mail she sent? Asking us to keep up on our mowing? Like there's actually a Home Owners Association here."          "Yeah, be sure to keep your grass short so my dog can shit in it," you say. "Remember how bent out of shape she got when the Ferrell's put the big peace sign on their house that Christmas? Jim's okay, he seems like a nice man, but...uggghhh. Whenever I see her coming I low-key want to run. Cause I know I'm gonna hear everybody's business whether I want to hear it or not."          "Cee's started feeding her disinformation," says Ezra, his mischievous half-smile creeping up his face.          "What?"          "Yeah, she's been spinning out some yarn about unmarked white vans circling the neighborhood at night," says Ezra, "Gives it to her in little pieces. I think lizard people might be an upcoming plot point."          "Ez!" You giggle, "That's not funny. I mean, it is, but what if she believes it?"          "What if? She's spread garbage about everyone on the block. I'd wager three quarters is utter bullshit, and the rest is stuff she has no business knowing about anyway, like what she said about you and The Asshole."          "What did she say?" You feel your hands prickling.          "She said he left you because you couldn't give him a baby," says Ezra. You feel your fingernails dig into your palms.          "That. Fucking. Bitch. My fertility is nobody's goddamn business. And, if you recall, I was the one who kicked his no-good cheating ass to the curb."          "I know, Sunshine, I was there." Ezra had stood guard while The Asshole came and picked up his things listened to him call you a frigid bitch, and a selfish whore and just about every other misogynistic slur he could string together. "And I still say he's lucky I didn't kick his ass right there in the street."          "She thinks you're a pervert," you say, "She said she doesn't like how you look at Cee." Ezra's eyes narrow.          "Cee is my family," says Ezra, "How anyone could even think--just--wow." Ezra falls silent, dim firelight playing over troubled features you squeeze your arm tighter around him and then he cracks a smile, his eyes lit up with pure trouble. He squirms his way out of your hold.          "You wait right here, Bee Girl,"          "Ez? What are you doing?"          "Just wait," he says and disappears into the house. You turn your back to the fire and try to warm up your butt. Ezra reappears in the doorway, kicks the screen open. He's got a partly used pack of toilet paper under his arm.          "The last of my pandemic stash," he says, "Back from when you could only find the cheap-ass single-ply shit. I prefer the two-ply myself, less likely to get stuck in the little--"          "Ezra. Stop talking."          "Oh. Right," he says, his smile bright like a crescent moon, "What do you say we indulge in some petty vengeance?"          "You're serious."          "I am. C'mon, Sunshine, we've had our fill of treats, now it's time for a little harmless trick." You feel your smile mirroring his.          "You know what? Yeah. Let's do it. Why the fuck not?"          "That's my girl," says Ezra, "You know how to fix them and get the spin on the throw?" You're already grabbing a roll from the pack and loosening the top layer.          "Yeah," you say, "I was twelve once."          "I say we go for the maple right in front," he says, "I get on one side and you get on the other. We go back and forth until the motion light goes on and then we bolt."          "Sounds good," you say, laughing high and breathless, "This is so fucking dumb. Let's go."          The pair of you creep down the alley, trying not to laugh. There's no one around,  no sound but the wind picking up and groaning through the tops of the trees and the drone of the nearby highway. You can't look at each other's faces, otherwise the giggles bubble up, the childish thrill of doing something utterly stupid has your blood singing. Ezra takes up his position on the opposite side of the maple tree and you huck the roll in a high looping arc, leaving a TP trail through the bare twigs and last clinging leaves, and then it comes back over to you. Back and forth, covering Marcie's maple in white loops, biting back laughter the whole time.          The motion light clicks on and Mr. Tiddly-Winks starts his ugly choking bark.          "Oh, shit," says Ezra, "Run!" And the two of you pelt down the alley, wheezing laughter the whole way.          The two of you stand by the remains of the fire and pant.          "Can't believe. We just did that." Your breathing is hard and fast.          "Gotta burn. The evidence--"          "Oh, yeah." You dump the remaining couple rolls of toilet paper into the coals and watch them flare bright.          "You know, you are really pretty when you're committing petty crimes," says Ezra.          "Really?" You say, and slide your arms around his waist, "What's next, mastermind? Wanna go cow-tipping? Spray-paint our names in a big heart on the overpass? Throw bricks through a Starbucks window?"            "Mmmmh," says Ezra, leaning in close, his nose brushing against yours, breath fanning your face. He grabs your ass and pulls your hips tight against his. "I like the way you think." Your eyes flick downward to where he is pressed against you.          "I can tell," you say, and he surges forward,  presses his lips to yours in a kiss that you return greedily. He tastes like beer and marshmallows and spent adrenaline. You bite his lower lip, graze of teeth against tender flesh and his hand leaves your ass to grip the back of your head, angling your mouth against his just the way he wants. Every time he kisses you, it’s like the first time, both gentle and wanting. Eventually you both have to breathe, humid exhalations in each other's faces, foreheads pressed together.          "It’s getting cold, Ez, let's take this inside,"          "Yes, Ma'am."

         The smell of coffee wakes you, your rumbling belly rousing you from sleep. Ezra has rolled on his side, the chilly light catching the planes of his broad back. You press yourself against him, your lips against his ear.          "Hey. Wakey-wakey. There's coffee." Ezra makes a series of vaguely word-like sounds, and then his snores resume. You have to smile. Ezra wakes slow. You tuck the covers over him, knowing it'll be at least ten more minutes before he comes shuffling downstairs, hair sticking up like quills, eyes slit against the weak morning light. Part of you wants to stay and bask in his warmth, but the lure of fresh coffee and frying bacon is too much. Your costume lies in a hastily discarded pile. You have no urge to put any of that back on, so you raid Ezra's dresser, one of his t-shirts and a pair of his sweatpants and you pad downstairs.          "Hey, Cee." The first time you stayed the night, you were worried about how Cee would feel, you didn't want to encroach on them. Are you okay with this? You know, me and Ez? Cee gave you a look of abject teenage pity. I'm just glad you idiots figured it out. Huh? You like him, he likes you. What you get up to isn't my business, so long as I don’t have to hear it. You make your way to the counter and help yourself to some coffee, dosing it generously with cream and sugar. The pan of bacon spatters on the stove forgotten, but not quite burned. You turn the gas off and move the pan to a cold burner.  Cee peers out the window.          "Bob called the cops," says Cee.          "What?"          "Someone TP'ed Bob's house," says Cee. "Look." And sure enough there's a police car in front of Marcie's house and Marcie herself is screeching and pointing to her maple tree while the world's most bored looking cop scribbles on a notepad.          "C'mon," says Cee, grabs your arm and pulls you onto the front porch for a better view.          "It was those kids from across the highway! They should be arrested! They come into our neighborhood like they own the place every Halloween!"          "Ma'am? Ma'am, look, I can take your report, but if you didn't get a good look at them there's not a whole lot anyone can really do." You feel Ezra behind you and you lean back into him a little.          "Morning, ladies," he says, "I see Bob has been visited by the toilet paper fairy."          "She called the cops," says Cee, "Like they're really gonna drop everything and deal with a little bit of toilet paper--"          "You're not even going to question anyone?" Marcie points to the three of you clustered on Ezra's front porch, "They were out late around their fire pit! They might have seen something." The cop's shoulders slump, and he starts making his way over.          "I don't suppose you saw anybody toilet-papering Mrs Davenport's maple?" He asks.          "'Fraid not," says Ezra, "We stayed outside until about twelve-thirty? One at the latest, and then Sunny here got too cold so we went inside. Didn't notice anything out of the ordinary."          "How bout you, kid?"          "I was watching Repo! The Genetic Opera," says Cee, "I had it cranked pretty loud."          "Sorry to bother you folks,"          "Not at all," says Ezra, "I hope your day gets better."

         The three of you sit down to breakfast, eggs and bacon and toast, and Marcie is still arguing with the cop. They've reached the my taxes pay your salary bit of the conversation. Marcie is demanding his badge number.          "You guys did this, didn't you?" Says Cee around a mouthful of toast.          "No," you say reflexively.          "What makes you think that, Little Bird?"          "Your pandemic stash is gone," says Cee.          "Maybe I used it up," says Ezra.          "Bullshit you did," says Cee, "I had to hear you complain about how the single ply stuff got caught in your ass-hairs--"          "Cee!" Ezra goes beet red, and you splutter out your coffee and bray laughter.          "I knew it," says Cee.

For anyone who doesn’t get this reference, here is the origin of Bee Girl.

tagging @oonajaeadira​ @honestly-shite​ @grogusmum​ @writeforfandoms​ @beautyagegoodnesssize​ @fromthedeskoftheraven​ @the-blind-assassin-12​ @cinewhore​

[peteywillproceed]

Falling

Author’s Note: Hi guys! Whew, this was a journey! Over 6k words and I am exhausted! It’s been through like ten name changes and five rewrites and I still think it sucks ass but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! x

Summary: You made the mistake of falling for a guy. He broke your heart. Moving on was the easiest thing in the world - until it wasn’t.

Word Count: 6.2k

Your breathing was heavy, ragged as lips trailed across your skin and sucked bruises on your ribs. You gasped as his fingers trailed across your chest, gathering you in his arms when he crawled back up to your lips and crashed into you like a wave breaking against a shore.

You were happy.

So happy.

Your heart swelling with joy as he laced his hands in yours and whispered quiet promises against your lips.

You didn’t know if it was light or dark. Morning or night. All you knew was the fire flooding your veins and the electricity setting your nerves alight.

The ‘I love yous’ and the promises of forever.

And then it all came crashing down.

*three months later*

Lights blared bright in your eyes, music so loud it stung your ears. Your hands were sweaty, wrapped around a beer bottle you’d held for so long it was warm and frothy. But it was the only thing keeping you grounded as you tossed your hair on the dancefloor and moved through the crowd of writhing bodies.

“You know how much trouble we’re in, right?”

You swung around, arms in the air and sight tainted by the haze of vodka. “Stop being such a buzzkill Houdini! Twat isn’t back till Tuesday.”

“Houdini? That’s a new one,” Harry raised an eyebrow and ignored your swipe at his brother, eyeing you warily as you stumbled over his foot. “Maybe cool it with the shots now?”

You cackled, pink and blue strobe lights slicing through your best friend’s body as you twisted and curved in time to the music. “Maybe cool it with the mothering, Harriet.”

“I’m only mothering you because you threw an illegal party in my brother’s house.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, finally stopping dancing when he gave you the ‘I’m serious, you’re an idiot’ look he’d perfected the first time you’d thrown a party. Except that time, it had been in your own house, and not your secret ex…whatever’s.

“Come on, like goodie-two-shoes-Tommy is ever gonna know.”

“He might, Y/n,” Harry shrugged, widening his arms “how are you planning on hiding the fact that three hundred people trashed his house?”

“By not telling him. Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this,” you grinned, moving your hips and dragging him back onto the dance floor “for one night your brother isn’t breathing down your neck, enjoy it and live a little! We can figure the rest out in the morning.”

He started to protest, pushing against your hands, but you strengthened your grip and pulled him into the crowd, ignoring the grunts from the people nearby. You loved Harry, you really did, you’d grown up with his annoying-as-fuck tendency to be a tattle tale, put up with the refusal to go out on a school night for years, and until you’d gotten involved with Tom you’d never questioned it.

But one night was all it took for everything you thought you’d known about your best friend’s brother to be completely shattered. And since then? Well, you didn’t exactly give a shit someone had smashed his Rolex tonight.

“You realise you could just admit the break-up upset you, right?” Harry laughed as you forced him to move “you don’t need to go full on Wild Child instead of talking about your emotions.”

“It was one night, there wasn’t a break-up, and your brother can get fucked,” you replied a little too quickly, wishing you were talking about anything else.

“I’m just saying, there are healthier ways to deal with getting your heart broken than destroying his house.”

You snorted and took a sip of your beer, almost gagging at the staleness. “The bloke already hates me, what’s a little property damage between enemies?”

“About £50,000 worth of legal fees.”

“Wow, you’re really bringing the heat tonight, aren’t you Holland?” you smirked, widening your eyes “almost like you learned from the best.”

“Yeah, Sam’s really good at one-liners,” he grinned in reply, and you punched his shoulder playfully.

Suddenly, you felt eyes on you, the unmistakable sensation of someone looking you over. You spun in a circle, zeroing in on every distracted party goer until you found the bright blue eyes burrowing under your skin and making you burn all over.

Nudging Harry, you pointed over his shoulder and forced him to turn around. “Hey, who’s that?”

“Err…I think his name’s Josh?” he gave you a funny look, like he couldn’t quite figure out the sudden change of topic. “He’s one of Sam’s mates from catering.”

“Is he single?”

Harry sighed at your smirk, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Jesus, Y/n, why would I know? If you’re so determined to get over Tom, go snog him or something.”

“For your information,” you grinned, starting to back away through the crowd “I’m completely over the heathen, but if it takes me snogging a cute guy to prove that to you, I guess I won’t complain.”

Harry had all but disappeared by the time you finished your sentence, but you knew he’d heard you when his middle finger shot up from somewhere in the middle of the heaving mass of partygoers, and you chuckled to yourself. You needed a distraction tonight, anything to not have to think about Tom and the trail of broken hearts he’d left in his wake three months ago.

Turning around, you were fully prepared to go and find Josh and put this whole mess behind you, when you slammed into a chest so hard you would’ve fallen over if it wasn’t for strong arms pulling you back up.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean…” you trailed off, spotting the sandy blond hair and cocky smirk “actually, you know what? I totally did mean to do that.”

“Just like you totally meant to loudly shout your intentions to make out with me?” Josh raised an eyebrow, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks. Thank God for foundation.

“Obviously, how else would you have known?”

Before he could answer, you’d pulled him down to your height and slammed your lips against his, surprise jolting through your body when you realised he was actually a good kisser. You were just getting into it, letting your hands slide into his hair, when a loud shout brought the room to a standstill and silenced the music.

“What the FUCK is going on?”

You jerked away from Josh, you’d recognise that voice anywhere, and spun towards the kitchen table. Tom was on top of it, his face livid and full of thunder, his eyes searching the room for an explanation. “Well?”

You gulped, goosebumps erupting across your body as the realisation of what you’d done set in. But then you remembered, Tom wasn’t even meant to be back from filming for another three days - why the hell was he here?

“It’s just a party, man,” someone shouted from the crowd.

“Yes, I’m aware of what it is,” Tom replied drily, his eyes finally landing on you “and I know exactly who’s responsible for it.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, the eye contact more than you’d had in three months from him. It felt funny finally seeing him after all this time, like you’d found a missing piece to a puzzle you couldn’t finish, but the cold look he was giving you was barely any different to how you’d left him.

He was looking between you and Josh, his tongue pressed against his cheek, and for some inexplicable reason you felt guilty. Like you’d been caught doing something illegal instead of just exercising your right to kiss as many damn people you fancied.

Finally, Tom set his jaw and tore his eyes away from you, the loss leaving you empty.

His voice dropped dangerously. “All of you – get the fuck out of my house.”

***

A few days later, you were hanging your clothes out to dry when your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pushed a peg into your mouth and dragged it out cack-handed, juggling the pile of washing and the box of clean clothes as you struggled to read the caller ID.

“Have you heard from him?” you asked earnestly into the phone, barely breathing as you waited for a response.

“Nice to talk to you too, cheery,” Harry grumbled, the sound of sleep clogging his voice.

“Are you seriously just waking up? It’s eleven o’clock!”

“Did you forget I was twenty-one yesterday?” he replied “I’m pretty sure I wasn’t in bed until six am.”

“Oh, right, yeah I saw those pictures.”

“Yeah so you’ll forgive me if I’m not completely awake yet.”

You ran a thumb over your lip, your eyes dropping to the pile of crinkled washing on the grass. You’d only meant to put it there for a second, but you’d forgotten how much it had rained last night and now the edges were stained with mud and your once clean bedsheets were stained green.

“Typical,” you muttered, trying to dust some of it off. Why did it always feel like this? Like when you were finally taking a step forward, something else was dragging you back two. It was only a minor thing, you could always just rewash them - but it wasn’t just the sheets, was it? Ever since…that night, you’d felt like you were walking through treacle, balancing on a knife’s edge you hadn’t seen before stepping into the unknown.

“What was that?” Harry asked, the sound of pots clanging in the background jerking you back to your conversation.

“Oh nothing, I just um, I just dropped some washing. Are you cooking?”

“Um…yeah, sure that sounds good – oh, Tom, hey.” Your best friend’s tone suddenly flipped like a switch, the audible gulp ringing through the handset. You barely had time to wonder why he was acting so cagey about cooking when a rugged voice began muttering in the background. You froze, your grip on your basket loosening as you stepped through the door.

You could barely hear what they were saying, but then Harry’s voice reappeared on the other end of the receiver, a slight nervous wobble creeping in. “Hey, err Y/n?”

“Yeah?” you replied, shaking off your shock and beginning to throw the ruined sheets back into the wash.

“Tom wants to talk to you.”

“Well tell him that-”

“He’s not an owl, Y/n,” Tom cut you off. “He doesn’t have to pass messages back and forth.”

Heat rose in your cheeks, frustration flowing through your veins as you balled your hands into fists and raked them through your hair. Somehow his voice was even more annoying than before. “Don’t quote Harry Potter at me, Thomas, especially when you’re just as guilty of doing it.”

“Doing what, exactly? You’re the one that trashed my house.”

“Passing messages through Harry! You didn’t exactly have the balls to tell me yourself you were running off to Colorado for three months.”

“Because you blocked my number!”

You sighed, eyes flicking towards the timer on the washing machine. It was true you’d blocked Tom’s number, but three months ago you’d been lying in his bed talking about how you felt and finally, finally admitting everything you’d kept bottled up since you were fourteen.

And then the next day he’d told you it was a mistake.

Went running off to America like a coward.

Leaving Harry to pick up the pieces and you to realise that everything you thought you could’ve had was pure fantasy.

So yes, you’d blocked his number. But it wasn’t like you hadn’t had a reason, and he had to know that. There was no way he could be that thick.

“What do you want, Tom?” you said at last, leaning against the machines. Maybe if you just let him say what he had to say this would all be over and you could go back to not giving a fuck.

Suddenly, the line clicked and the monotonous hum of the phone shutting down rang in your ear.

“What the…?” you trailed off, pulling the phone away from your ear to stare at it in shock. Had he…just called you…to argue with you…and then hung up on you?

Beside you, the door began to creak open and you jumped into the air, your phone flying across the room and landing face up on the tiles. You swore under your breath, bending down to retrieve it just as you felt someone else step into the room behind you.

“Sorry, I’ll just be a- Tom? Your mouth fell open at the sight of the boy stood in front of you, the brown curls you’d run your hands through only months ago gone, the light you’d known in his eyes dead and scattered amongst the ashes.

“I think we need to talk,” he said slowly, holding his hands up as if you were going to shoot him “about everything.”

Your mouth began to move, words flying around in your brain, but no sound came out as you struggled to piece together any semblance of thought. “What are you doing here?”

“I just…after the other night I figured we needed to talk. Properly talk.” He reached for your hand but you snatched it away, your heart beating loudly in your ears.

“Y/n, I know…I know what I did was shitty. But I just need you to hear me out.”

You scoffed, backing away from him until you were pressed against the garden door. “You think now’s a good time for this?”

“I think the best time was three months ago when you were next to me in bed,” he bit his lip, and this time you looked at him. Like, really looked at him.

His jeans were stained in all manner of dodgy areas, his shirt the old Tesco one you’d got him as a joke for his birthday. He had huge, purple bags beneath his eyes, and his socks were two different colours, like he’d been in such a rush he’d forgotten to check; you didn’t even bother to ask about the crocs.

“Well,” you whispered, letting out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “At least you finally realised that.”

He nodded earnestly, moving towards you and freezing when you threw up your hand to stop him. “I did. Oh God, I did. I spent three months feeling like the shittest person in the world and I didn’t know how to call you to explain.”

“So you thought you’d accost me in my laundry room?”

“It…wasn’t my best plan. But you didn’t exactly make it easy for me to contact you.”

Your mouth fell open, your hand flying to your chest. “Watch it, Holland, or I might think you just tried to blame me for this whole mess.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, it sure as hell sounded like that was what you meant!” He flinched as you raised your voice and your arms, but you didn’t feel sorry for it. You’d spent months feeling like a complete idiot, wishing you’d never even told him how you felt. And here he was, trying you blame you for the mess he caused. “So tell me, Tom, just what exactly you think you’re doing here.

“I came to apologise-”

“That’s a good start.”

“And to say that I meant what I said…y’know, before I left.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the door frame with your arms crossed. Tom was halfway across the room now, his hands curled in front of him as he swiped them on his jeans. He was biting his lip, the glasses he didn’t need halfway down the bridge of his nose and it took every inch of you not to break and run to him, fall into the arms you knew so well and forget it had all happened.

You knew what it was like, the vanilla and the cinnamon that would waft up your nose and remind you that you were home. The strength of the arms that would ground you and hold you to Earth. It was so tempting, so inviting to just go back - but where would that get you?

No, going back wasn’t an option anymore. There was only forwards, where the path behind you was well trodden and full of tears.

“That’s nice,” you said at last, shaking your head. “But you can’t really expect me to believe you.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping when he realised you weren’t giving in. You wondered if he knew how deep he’d cut you, what those words had meant to you and how you’d felt when he’d snatched them away. You wondered if Harry had told him everything that happened over the next few months, how you’d almost broken and yet from the outside you looked happier than ever. You almost hoped he knew how you’d bounced back. How you were fine now.

Or at least, how you pretended to be fine.

“Maybe this isn’t the best place to do this,” he cast an eye round the room warily, and your skin bristled when his gaze finally landed on you. “Can we go up to your place?”

“Absolutely not.”

The words were out of your mouth before you could think, shocking yourself more than you shocked Tom.

“Well…will you come to mine?”

“Sure, if I need to see Harry,” you responded as the washing machine pinged “is there anything else? My laundry’s done.”

“Y/n, we need to talk about this,” he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper “you can’t just ignore me.”

You fixed him with a look, throwing the clean sheets into your basket with more force than necessary and walking towards him. You were so close you could smell his aftershave, different from his normal, more minty than you would have liked. You could see every hair, every line on his face, but it was the look in his eyes that broke you, the sadness that you’d felt for so many months hovering just within him too.

“No, Tom, we don’t,” your voice broke and fresh hot tears began to stream down your face. “The time for talking about it was before you left for Colorado. Now…now’s the time for me to move on, because you broke my heart Tom, you broke it.”

You were full on sobbing now, choking on your words as you spluttered through them. “You smashed it into so many pieces that I couldn’t find them all. And now you’re trying to smash it again, but I won’t allow it. I won’t allow you to take anymore of my heart than you already have.”

“I didn’t-”

“I don’t care Tom!” you screamed, but he barely flinched. You threw the basket down so hard it bounced on the floor and spilt the sheets again. ���You had all that time to find out, all that time to do something about it, and you didn’t! So you’ll have to forgive me when I say I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“So that’s it then? Everything you said all those nights ago means nothing any more?” his voice was filled with a pain that cut you to the core, the wobble in his throat making your heart ache more than you expected.

“It means everything, and that’s the problem,” you sniffed, dropping your head to the floor.

You felt Tom draw closer, his body so close to yours that you could feel his heat. He lifted his fingers to your chin, catching your jaw and raising your head so your eyes met his.

“Why does it have to be a problem?”

You paused, almost not saying it. “Because I can’t let you break me again.”

He nodded, backing away, his fingers leaving your chin and you felt empty from the loss. “I’m sorry.”

It was barely a whisper, just loud enough for you to hear but not quite deep enough for it to mean anything. He turned and started walking away, pausing at the door to look back at you. He opened his mouth to say something, his bottom lip wobbling, but he shut it again before any words came out.

Then he disappeared and let the door bang shut behind him.

Relief flooded your body, seeping through every crack in your bones and every fragment of your heart. You were done with the excuses, the comments, the desperate pleas from Harry that his brother was an idiot and too caught up with work to realise what he’d done wrong. You were busy too, but that hadn’t ever made you spew a bunch of crap about loving someone since you’d seen them in the lunch room. It had never made you fill somebody’s heart with hope only to crush it in the morning with just a few simple words and excuses blamed on alcohol.

The final click of the lock was enough to make you slide against the door. Sink down to the floor. Bury your head in your hands.

It was relief, that was what it was. That was what you had to tell yourself. So you could get back up again and walk back to your flat and make everything okay again.

It wasn’t sadness.

It couldn’t ever feel like sadness.

So why did it feel like it was?

***

“Are you sure you want to go tonight?” Harry asked as he watched you smudge your lips with red. “Nobody will notice if you’re not there.”

You rolled your eyes at the dramatics, capping the lipstick tube with a satisfying click and spinning on your heel. “Oh please, it’s a party – we’re not storming off to war.”

“Yeah but it’s…Tom’s party.”

“And last I checked we weren’t exactly on speaking terms,” you shrugged, grabbing your bag from your bed. “He’s not likely to come anywhere near me, there’s going to be hundreds of people there.”

Harry shook his head and pushed himself off the door frame, fixing you with the look you were tired of getting. It had been two weeks since Tom had come to your flat and you were still nowhere near over it; not that you’d ever admit it, but you’d never been over it in the first place.

When Harry had mentioned that Tom was throwing a party to celebrate the release of his new movie, your immediate reaction had been words you couldn’t repeat in front of a three year old. But then he’d turned on the puppy dog eyes and you were suddenly feeling bad about making him go it alone.

“You could make friends with a plant pot, what do you need me there for?” you’d asked.

“Yeaaahhhh, but who’s going to stop me falling face first into that plant pot when I’m pissed?” Harry had replied, grinning at your annoyed face.

“Fine, but I’m drinking the first thing in sight and you’re keeping Tom away from me.”

“What is it with you two? You spend half your time acting like you hate each other. Wouldn’t it just be easier to, I don’t know, suck it up and get together already?” Harry interrupted your thoughts, jerking you back to reality with a flick of his wrist.

You snorted. “We tried that, didn’t exactly work that well.”

“Well it might work a lot better if you actually talked to the guy.”

“Damn it Harry,” you slammed your palm against the door. “I don’t want to talk to someone who told me he loved me and then ran three thousand miles away the next day!”

You could feel the sob building up in your chest, the one you’d buried so deep you’d forgotten it was even there. The walls seemed to tilt towards you as you stumbled into the hall, barely noticing as you slid against the kitchen door frame and forced air into your lungs. God you didn’t want to talk about this, not now when everything you’d done to bury this had worked so well.

“But you do want to talk to Tom! Maybe not the guy that broke your heart, but the guy you’ve been in love with since we were fourteen,” Harry said, exasperated. “You’re going around pretending like you’re over him, like you haven’t thought about him in months. But you threw that party for the same reason you kissed that bloke for, and you know it!”

“Are we seriously fighting over your brother right now? Are you back to being the damn messenger, because I can’t…I can’t keep…” tears were spilling over your cheeks, searing your eyes and stinging the familiar patches of skin that had been stained with the same tears only a few months ago. You tried to breathe, tried to refocus your mind but the world was swimming and you could hardly see anymore through the blurry glass of your tears.

Before you could think, Harry had pulled you into his arms and smothered you against his chest, his hand coming up to stroke your hair. “Sod the party, let’s just watch a movie and get some pizza.”

“No, no, I want to go,” you mumbled against his chest “I need this…I think. Just to see him and know that it’s all done, so I can move on and forget it ever happened.”

“Fuck that, Y/n, let’s just stay here.”

“Please? I really need this.”

Harry pushed you back gently, running a finger under your mascara stained eyes as he took a deep breath. You could see the indecision, the uncertainty at letting you step into the unknown written across his face. In this moment, it was you or his brother, and you hoped to God it was the latter. “This is the last time?”

“The last time,” you promised.

“Well,” he sighed, checking his watch, the long moment fading and passing into the night “I guess we have a party to get to.”

***

When you pulled up to Tom’s house, the lights were out and the curtains were drawn. You threw Harry a look, surprised that there was nobody spilling out of the doors and no music shaking the walls, but he didn’t seem to notice it.

“Err, where is everybody?” you asked, peering out of the window for signs of life.

“Haven’t the faintest,” Harry replied, pulling the handbrake on and reaching over you to open the door. “Do you wanna go in and I’ll catch up? I need to sort something quickly.”

You rolled your eyes and gathered your things from the backseat, feeling uneasy about the lack of people. “I can’t believe you’re sending me in there alone.”

“It’s just for five minutes, you’ll survive.”

“Or maybe I won’t and you’ll be reading my eulogy.”

“I look forward to it,” Harry smirked “I can finally tell people how nasty you are.”

You punched him in the shoulder and stepped out of the car, taking a deep breath before starting towards the house. You felt stupid in the heels, the red lipstick suddenly feeling to garish and over the top.

You rolled your shoulders and set your jaw, running a hand nervously through your hair whilst the other clung tightly to your bag. The clack of your shoes against Tom’s gravel set your teeth on edge, and on impulse you reached down and pulled them off, enjoying the bite of the winter air against your hot feet.

By the time you reached the door, your confusion had only grown, because the house was completely silent and there were certainly no signs of a party. You spun around to find Harry and demand that he take you home, because it was nine o’clock, there was obviously no party, and you weren’t facing Tom alone.

Except his car was gone.

You bit your lip in surprise, looking up and down the street in case he’d just moved the car to park it somewhere safer. But he was nowhere to be seen - the road was empty save for a man running to his van at the bottom. You rolled your eyes and reached for your phone, realising the guy was taking the piss and figuring that if you called him before you saw him again you might not actually murder him.

But your phone was gone and come to think of it Harry hadn’t even been dressed for a party. What the hell was going on?

You debated knocking on another house’s door and asking to borrow the phone, call for a cab and just go home. But it was late and you felt bad about disturbing people that were probably sleeping, all because your best friend was an arsehole and you were too much of a coward to knock on Tom’s door. At last, you gave in and walked back up the drive, pausing at the front door and bracing yourself to see him.

How the hell were you going to explain it? “Oh sorry Tom, no I didn’t actually mean to come here, Harry just thought it would be funny to play a prank and don’t worry I’ll kill him myself the next time I see him.”

At least you looked nice, you thought, raising your hand to knock. At least he wouldn’t think you were ugly and a bitch.

As you moved your hand towards the door, it suddenly swung inwards, the hallway dark and unlit. You gasped, stumbling backwards, peering fearfully into the house in case some burglar was about to come running straight past you. But as your eyes began adjusting to the light, you noticed something strange about the floor.

It was covered in rose petals.

“Tom?” you called out nervously, stepping into the house. “Tom? It’s Y/n. Your front door is open…?”

You moved deeper into the house, quietly closing the door behind you so you didn’t wake him if he was sleeping. Keeping your hands against the wall in case you slipped, you made your way down the hall, noticing a soft glow coming from the kitchen. You paused when you reached the doorway, wondering if you should’ve grabbed your keys or a weapon in case there really was a burglar in here.

But at the last second, you lost your footing and stumbled through the doorway, falling into the kitchen with a soft thud and gasp.

It took a second for you to process it all, but when you finally did you almost felt your heart stop. Fairy lights glittered over every inch of the wall, the floor here too covered with rose petals and flowers. The kitchen table, bowing in the middle just like everything else Tom had made on that bloody wood work course, was covered in a cloth, two plates and a single candle decorating the surface. You stared transfixed at the setup, your mouth falling open in shock.

And then Tom appeared.

Clutching the biggest bouquet of daisies you’d ever seen in your life.

“You like it?” he whispered “I know daisies are your favourite.”

“What…what is all this?” you breathed, still gobsmacked by the softly glowing room.

Tom smiled, moving closer to you and setting the flowers on the table. “A really over the top apology.”

“This is for me?”

“Obviously, dummy,” he laughed, flinching when you smacked his arm. “Hey! I spent money on these flowers, I’ll have you know!”

“And what a dreadful waste, Holland, don’t you care about our environment?” You were joking but your breath was still caught, your brain trying to play catch up as the scene played in front of you, like you were watching this all happen to someone else. Someone luckier.

“I care more about you,” he replied, and somehow he was even closer than before. “I care more about you than anything else in my life. And I couldn’t quite figure out how to explain that three months ago.”

“And you know now?”

He nodded, pulling you towards him. “I think I do, yes.”

“Then say it.”

His lips parted, his eyes caught on yours as he reached to cup your cheek. A waft of his aftershave made its way towards you, the mintiness of before replaced with the warm vanilla you remembered so well. The glasses were gone and he was wearing the burgundy suit you’d had too many dreams about to remember. 

But in that moment, none of that mattered. 

All you could think about in that moment was the way he was staring at you.

Like you were the most precious thing on Earth.

“Three months ago I told you how I wanted to spend forever with you, how you’re all I’ve thought about for years. How you consume every part of me, spend your days dancing in my mind and reminding me of everything we could have. But what I didn’t tell you was why.

“Because I didn’t know. I didn’t know why it is that I love you so much, and that’s what scared me – the fact that I could feel something so deeply for you and have no rational explanation for it. So I thought the logical thing was that the feelings weren’t real and they weren’t that powerful, that if I tried to move on then we’d eventually forget and nothing would be lost.

“Those months away from you were torture, not knowing how badly you were hurting and why you’d blocked my number. I didn’t realise how much of an ass I was until Harry flew out to America and practically beat down my door.”

“Harry went to America?” you interrupted him “when?”

Tom smiled, his thumb rubbing your cheek in slow circles. “That weekend you thought he had that photography competition. He flew out to kick my ass and ask what the hell happened.”

“I wondered how he knew so much,” you chuckled quietly “it was like he came back from that weekend and he knew exactly what to say.”

“Because that’s Harry, he always knows exactly what to do,” Tom shrugged.

“Tonight was his idea, wasn’t it?” you grinned, watching as he blushed fuchsia.

“Well, the idea was. But I take full credit for putting it together!”

You laughed at his face, the crinkles in his smile and the dimples in his cheeks so familiar you could have drawn them blindfolded. You reached up to trace them, still not quite believing this was real, when just two weeks ago you thought he’d left that laundry room and walked out of your life forever.

“Hey Tom?” you murmured, wrapping your fingers around his. “Two weeks ago when you came to see me…how did you get there?”

He frowned and looked at you like you’d gone insane. “Harry dropped me.”

“So he wasn’t cooking?”

“If Harry was cooking the fire brigade would’ve been called.”

You giggled, knowing it was true. He’d tried to cook pancakes for you last year and you’d had to throw out the pan because you couldn’t scrape it off.

“Why would you think he was?” Tom asked, smiling softly in the dim light.

“Well, it sounded like there were pans clanging in the background,” you said “I just figured he was making breakfast.”

“I told him to say that,” Tom admitted, his cheeks still red “I actually bought you a present back from Colorado but I broke it in the car.”

“You never were very careful, were you Tommy?” you smiled, reaching up instinctively to brush his curls behind his ears. When all your fingers found was stubble, your hand settled in the curve of his neck, cupping his cheek as you tried to find the words to explain what would happen next.

“All I know is that you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time,” he replied, not taking his eyes off you “and if getting you back took Harry lying about making breakfast? Then I’m not going to complain. I don’t want to waste another second that I could be spending on you.”

You laughed, nestling your head into the crook of his neck as he drew you closer. Vanilla overwhelmed your senses as you sank into his familiarity, overcome by the sweetness and homeliness. You’d had so many questions, and so little time to ask them, but after it all there was still just one that remained answered.

“Why me?” you asked, looking up at him through your lashes “why me when you could have literally anyone else?”

“I-” he stopped himself, stumbling over the knee-jerk reaction as he took a deep breath. “Because there’s never been anyone but you.”

“And this is real?” you whispered, feeling the unknown stretch in front of you as your heart skipped a beat. “Because if you say it is, that you want this, I can’t go back again. I’ll be jumping without a parachute.”

Tom smiled, tilting his head to the side. He caught your gaze, his hands wandering to your waist and pulling you closer whilst your heart beat faster than it ever had before. You held your breath as he leant forward, catching your lips with his.

The moment they touched was like he’d lit a bonfire inside you; your skin burned and your lungs filled with the smoke. You could hardly breathe, feeling your nerves spark alight and race with electricity, every touch bringing you closer to how you’d been three months ago. Memories of that night danced across your vision, playing like a record you’d longed to open – every kiss, every touch, every whisper on replay in front of you.

At last, he pulled away, taking the fire with him while electricity crackled in your veins.

“Then I guess, darling,” he whispered, hushed under his breath “I’ll simply have to catch you.”

 taglist:

@zabdisamor @jinxfanfics @jillanaholland @enjoymyloves @ihopethatwemeetinanotherlife @averyfosterthoughts @ziggyspurplehaze

[doctorthasmin]

Music/Dancing

“So a bro night in the 51st century, sounds fun.” Yaz twinkles as Jack adjusts Graham’s collar for the fifth time.

Jack arches an eyebrow at her before nodding up to the stairs of the Tardis where the Doctor and Ryan are busy trying to headlock each other in their matching polo and jeans outfits. Yaz feels her heart swell a little at the sight, the Doctor loved them all she knew, but there was a brotherly affection between her and Ryan that just shone through her.

“She’ll have fun for five minutes and then mope if you don’t come you know.” Jack whispers to Yaz as she bites her lip, she doesn’t want to intrude on their night but she’s heard stories about the Doctor and her moping when she’s not around.

“He’s right, Ryan won’t mind sweetheart.” Graham agrees, sipping on his final cuppa of the night before they head out.

In the end it’s Ryan caught in the Doctor’s headlock that asks her to come along, the Doctor let’s him go in surprise and grins a mile wide when Yaz agrees running off to get changed. She opts to choose a maroon dress, slinky but modest, paired with some black pumps and some light make up. The Doctor has her jaw closed for her by Jack when Yaz enters the Console Room. Chivalrous as ever Graham offers his hand out to Yaz as she takes the final few steps down the stairs, blushing to the tips of her ears.

“You look wonderful sweetheart, let’s go have some fun eh.” Graham whispers and Yaz beams back at him silently thanking him with her eyes.

An hour later...

“How many of these have I had?” Jack yells over the thumping music as he watches Ryan grinding on some beautiful woman in the centre of the dancefloor. Graham checks the glass with a sniff before his eyes water a little.

“8 of those.” Graham yells back as Jack grins dopely at the Doctor. She’s busy watching Yaz dance with a nice enough looking fellow, her hands clasped tightly round her fourth hyper vodka.

“You need to catch up Doc I’m four ahead.” Jack yells at her, distracted she frowns at her glass before rolling her eyes at the sweaty Time agent, for once in his life he’s not been pressed between two beautiful people in a club, but cling to Graham’s hip the whole time.

“Only Graham gets to call me Doc!” The Doctor yells, feeling her hearing start to deafen at bit at the blaring music and strobing lights. That’s when she smells a whiff of Yaz’s perfume and suddenly the dewy girl is in her arms taking her drink from her hand having a small sip. Yaz didn’t drink, but when the Doctor had explained there wasn’t any ethanol in drinks in this century she made an exception.

“I’m having such a good time, come dance with me.” Yaz whispers loudly into her ear and the Doctor smiles softly before nodding gently. She hands her glass over to Graham who gives her a thumbs up as it joins his. Jack whistles, loud enough to be heard over the roaring music and the Doctor blushes, her hand sweaty in the palm of Yaz’s hand.

Yaz can feel the bass of the music in the centre of her soul as she wraps her arms around the Doctor’s neck, her fingertips sliding underneath her polo collar. There’s a purring rumble in the Doctor’s chest as she encircles her arms around Yaz’s waist and pulls her closer, they’re not really dancing to the beat of the music, but that doesn’t matter, they march to the beat of their own drum anyway.

An hour later...

“Tell you what Ryan might be on a promise you know.” Jack slurs nodding over to Ryan and the beautiful girl, pressed up against some speaker kissing. Graham rolls his eyes at Jack before turning to the Doctor who’s busy feeding exotic fruit to Yaz with her hands.

“Sorry Doc, erm bit embrassing to ask for him but can uh Ryan get that girl in trouble? Don’t want him being careless you know.” Graham whispered into her ear, the Doctor pulls back flashing him an understanding smile before leaning back to whisper to him.

“Ryan asked earlier, I gave him a 51st century male contraceptive pill, he’s a smart lad Graham.” The Doctor promised, grinning as Graham beamed with pride and relaxed back into his seat.

Jack stands to get another round in before he sways a little on the spot, he clicks his fingers into finger guns and shakes his head, marching off to the bar. It’s not until he wanders back a few minutes later minus any drinks that he declares he’s getting too old for this scene.

Later that night on the Tardis...

“Ryan it’s second on the left buddy.” The Doctor yells down the corridor as Ryan stumbles down the corridor looking for his room.

Yaz is pressed up against her side, her shoes in her hands as she snuggles into the Doctor’s neck thanking her for tonight. In response the Doctor sweeps her legs and carries her bridal style over the threshold of their bedroom soaking up Yaz’s laughter and squeal of surprise when she flops on the bed.

So in this one shot Ryan and Sonya aren’t a thing obvs 🙌

[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.”

[the-lack-of-errors-in-star-trek]

MIDNIGHT FLIGHTS - 0.1

Chapter 1

In a library, a young teacher, and a young FBI agent were browsing the same aisle of books on adolescent psychology, making efforts to stand a safe distance away. The first thing that Natasha noticed was a tall man with odd posture and interesting quirks for selecting a book, almost as if he were browsing psychological literature for fun. The first thing that Spencer noticed was that a relatively short woman was searching for two specific titles listed on a wrinkled sticky note, more than likely for the purposes of bettering her career. Both persons considered the other interesting for choosing to be in a library on a Friday afternoon when colleges, schools, and most workplaces were observing a winter break a week from Christmas.

Natasha is the first to leave the section with her two required readings, Spencer loitering around selecting three titles to occupy his afternoon in the library. While Natasha is checking out her books, she receives an incoming call, checking the number quickly before answering, expecting her mother on the line.

"Privyet, mama, what's going on?"

A familiar voice enters her ear, "Oh come on Nastya, I've been waiting on you for an hour now. Your mother is trying to get me to eat another bowl of borscht, please save me." The voice of her best friend, Anna, brings a light chuckle to Natasha.

"I'm almost done at the library, I promise, I'll be there in less than a half hour." She answers, handing her library card to be scanned by the sitting clerk.

"Da, please just hurry." Anna repeats her plea and hangs up, leaving Natasha to collect her items and hurry out of the lobby of the library, headed directly to the metro.

As promised, Natasha enters the small apartment above her family's store with 25 minutes to spare from Anna's disappointment. "Ya doma!" She calls out, a small "yay" can be heard from the kitchen as she sets her bag down by the door. Walking into the sitting room connected to the kitchen, she spots the clock as being 19:36.

"You need to eat dinner, Lisichka" her mother calls out to her, wiping down the counter and sipping on a coffee, lit cigarette in hand.

"And right after, we need to change, hurry." Anna demands of her, walking from the small kitchen to the living room couch, eyeing the news playing in the background.

Natasha's adult life was very much consistent, after a long week of teaching and grading middle schoolers, Anna would be right there to take her to the newest clubs in the D.C. area. Natasha took a moment to analyse her friendship while eating her borscht and bread. They had met in the local Eastern Orthodox church in D.C. Nowadays, both only practice in the name of tradition instead of the belief they held as children, but that bond was set when they spoke for the first time during a church meal, and most of the Eastern European community probably only went to church for that same reason, tradition. Nastya and Anna were practically sisters, and had felt loss in the same way. When Anna was 16, she lost her brother in a car accident, and finally understood why Nastya carried an air of grief around her. Losing family was losing a part of your soul, and that was an unshakable moment between the two teens, leading them to live in similar ways. For Nastya, she put her heart and soul into teaching, making the world better for young scholars one English class period at a time, and for Anna, working as an intern in a law firm while working towards the bar exam meant giving her family name a better reputation than just "some Russians" living in D.C.

Later that night, the metro ride to the heart of downtown was largely uneventful, both women dressed for a fun time in the city, Anna wearing her blonde hair up in a twist, exposing a black sweater and gold necklace, slacks and heeled boots to go with. Nastya was dressed in a similar fashion, a red sweater from light fabric and dark jeans going with her worn black heeled boots, both women holding their purses close while holding the same rail. Leaving the metro meant walking fast from the station to the club, as the cold December air placed a chill over their bones. Neon lights could be seen all over the city, entering a small queue where a bouncer was checking IDs for entry into a new and definitely not prestigious club.

With a side eye from the bouncer, most likely from the last names on their Virginian licenses, both Anna and Nastya enter the club with no further event. The lights were strobing different colors, the music was loud and pumping, and both women sought a beeline for the bar, hoping to clock in a few shots prior to dancing. The bartender is a kind woman who obliges in pouring the four shots, taking payment from Natasha immediately.

"I'll cover the next four," Anna states, washing the second shot down with a sip of coke.

"You better!" Natasha laughs, lightly tapping Anna's shoulder, and turning to look at the crowd. Both were thankful for the fact the club had a coat room, ensuring the only thing needed to carry was their phones and some cash. "Dance?" She asks her friend, looking to the floor.

"Definitely!" Anna shouts over the music, dragging Nastya by the wrist to the floor, alcohol keeping their chests warm as they begin to dance by themselves and next to each other. A few men pass by briefly, none getting too close, but a quite muscular man saunters over, seeming to try and seduce Anna. Nastya takes this as a cue to find something stronger from the bar, leaning over to Anna's ear.

"Have fun, don't leave without me." She commands, receiving a thumbs up from her friend before closing the gap and dancing up on the bald man who approached them. Nastya can overhear their introductions as she walks away and towards the bar. She orders a gin and tonic from the lady behind the counter, and sips on it while walking the perimeter of the floor, attempting to spot her friend. Assuming they went towards the middle of the floor, she hangs back, taking the next ten minutes to slam through her drink, leaving it on the bar counter before finally spotting Anna's figure at a table of people, the man she was dancing with not even 15 minutes before standing next to her. Nastya walks over, tapping Anna on the shoulder.

"I thought I told you not to stray far," Nastya starts in Russian, "I couldn't find you for a solid ten." She finishes in English.

Anna shushes her, "Dude it's fine, look these guys are awesome! They work here! In the D.C.!" Liquor had always taken Anna faster than Nastya, she was just hoping she could keep tabs on her. She shakes her head at her friend before looking at the table, spotting an oddly familiar face across from her.

"Are you two Russian?" A skinny brunette asks the both of them in broken Russian, alcohol makes anyone a polyglot with the right vocabulary. Both women nod, answering with a curt "Da" waiting for more conversation to enter the table.

"Well we love meeting new people, your friend already told me her name, I'm Derek, what's yours?" The tall buff man asks Natasha.

"Natasha, nice to meet you Derek, don't move too fast on her, she gets tipsy faster than I do." Natasha cracks a friendly comment, getting a laugh and a light slap on the shoulder from Anna.

"Nice to meet you both, I'm Emily." The brunette introduces herself to both young women on the spot, moving to point to the two people sitting next to her. "This is Penelope," she says, pointing to a slightly chubby and eccentric woman with cat eye glasses and an outfit to match, plenty of colour in comparison to the rest of their group. A short and sweet "nice to meet you" leaves Penelope's lips, moving to chew on her small bar straw in her red cocktail.

"And this is Spencer, our workplace genius." Emily finishes, the familiar man waving but finally looking up to face both women.

"Wait, I saw you in the library earlier today," he starts, shock coming to most of the table's faces. "Adolescent psychology, what was that for?"

"I'm a teacher." Natasha answers shortly, "I could ask you the same thing."

"Just light reading material." Spencer answers in the same matter of fact manner, the interaction leaving an odd air around the group.

Emily moves over slightly, "Please sit, the more the merrier, we can keep drinks going." Anna is the first to oblige, her boots new and not nearly as easy on the feet as Nastya's.

"Come on, Nastya, don't be a stranger, you need more friends than just me." Anna slaps the spot next to her, Nastya giving into the demands of her friend, as Derek excuses himself to grab shots for the table.

"So you know our professions," Nastya starts, "what brings you four together?"

"We work in the same office," Emily answers, her tone always warm and welcoming, definitely appealing to Natasha in opening up. "Federal agents, gotta cut loose every once and awhile."

Anna and Nastya nod, Anna piping up first. "What is that even like?"

"A lot of paperwork most of the time, but keeps us on our toes." Emily and Penelope seem to be the most talkative, the blonde answering the question this time around.

"Really?" Derek asks, coming back to the table and conversation with plenty of shots for everyone. "You're the one in the cave, Garcia, these girls were asking about our action packed adventures."

Everyone except Spencer takes a shot after making a cheer, catching Nastya's attention. "What is it, Mr. Spencer? Vodka not for you?"

"Actually it's Doctor Reid," he answers, taking Natasha aback, "and I've just never been crazy about drinking in general."

"Jesus, how old are you?" She asks, genuinely curious how a man looking so young could be that smart with a PhD.

"I'm 26 years old, a bit of a high IQ and fast reading will take you pretty far." He answers.

"Seriously? We're like the same age and you already have a doctorate?"

"Three of them, actually." This answer causes Anna to choke on her drink, an amused look from Spencer's work friends.

"Fucking impossible!" Anna calls out, "There's no way, you're too young!"

Derek laughs, "Anything is possible when this dude graduated high school at the ripe age of 12." Derek and Anna look at each other and nod, an unspoken agreement that both were bored and wanted to dance. Nastya moves to let Anna out onto Derek's shoulder, and takes her place at the table.

"So when did you leave Russia?" Emily asks, alcohol keeping the conversation on getting to know everyone.

"I mean, I was born here, by my parents left right at the start of the Glasnost and Perestroika," Natasha answers, no harm in answering the question no matter how odd it was to be talking to the FBI off duty. "Anna's family was a bit more lucky, her grandparents snuck out of the eastern bloc, making her second generation."

Penelope is the next to engage in conversation, "I can't imagine, have you ever travelled there since the wall fell?" She asks and it's a harmless question out of curiosity, but it places Natasha on edge. She shakes her head as a response. It was her time to ask questions.

"What even do you guys do?" She asks, not meaning to come off in a mean tone, but luckily Spencer sees through it and answers.

"We work behavioural analysis, most people assume that to mean we work to catch serial killers, but it's not just that, there's also arsonists, kidnappers, and rapists, and any crime in which behaviour can be studied."

"What a mouthful," Natasha responds, Penelope and Emily chuckling in response to the interaction.

"He's always quiet until he has something he can info-dump on you" Emily assures Natasha, keeping the same warm smile. It was certainly a nice group, but after an extra hour of small talk, and a few more rounds of shots, in which Natasha snags the numbers of all three at the table, it becomes evident that Anna had a very high chance of going home with Derek instead of back to Natasha's family apartment.

"You lost her?" Spencer asks, towering over her as they pack up to leave the club.

"Seems like it, metro should be loads of fun." Natasha eyes how Anna is practically climbing all over Derek.

Spencer looks between the two, and comes to a conclusion. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm driving for Emily and Penelope, I can drive you too. The crime rates at this hour skyrocket, especially if you're taking the metro by yourself."

Natasha decides to take up the group on their offer, making sure Anna left with Derek safely first. When stepping onto the street at a bright one in the morning, Natasha can't help but notice how far the temperature has dropped in just the past few hours. The group of four head to Spencer's car, and pile in.

The ride is largely uneventful, address after address meant that Spencer was left to drive Natasha home after Emily and Penelope, both remaining silent on the drive to the outskirts of D.C.

"It's this store right here, thank you." Natasha responds when Spencer pulls up.

"You live in a store?"

"Above it."

"Oh, yeah that makes sense..." He trails off, pulling into the side of the road. "It was nice to meet you, have a good night."

"Thanks again," Natasha answers, exiting the car with her purse, both of the adults creating an awkward silence between each other. "Good night." Spencer drives off right when she backs onto the sidewalk, getting into the store apartment with no alert to her mother.

As Natasha fell asleep that night, she wondered what kind of story Anna would have for her the next morning, as well as how the fuck the FBI got a lanky kid to hunt down serial killers, but couldn't teach him how to hold a conversation.

Taglist: @iwannabemorethanme​

[prettyyyboyluke]

Siren

inspired by this song, this one, and this one too, if it does well, we will turn it into something good ;) but for now, we’ll leave it at this. there will be lots of angst, some violence, and of course smut 

~ 

Siren: In Greek Mythology, each of a number of women or winged creatures whose singing lured unwary sailors onto rocks

The small lights decorating the streets barely did any justice. Everything that surrounded me was pitch black, with the occasional yellow and red lights from crosswalks and stop lights. I don’t understand why Kaileen would pick somewhere that is underground. Literally underground. Since it was such a secret location, you were either walking or you didn't go at all. I could practically rip Kaileen's head off right now if she was next to me. The heels she told me to wear weren’t giving much room for my toes, and I could already feel the blisters and pain in the morning. 

Tonight, I couldn’t pinpoint the exact idea of what I was doing. All I was told that once I got to a red brick wall with the numbers 11, 9, 12, 12, 5, 18 spray painted in black, I was at the right place. Oh, and I guess the most important detail was to tell whoever the security guards were the word, siren. 

This is not the night I was expecting at all. 

~

The wall came into my vision dimly, and I looked over the numbers, once, twice, three times before finally going up to the red rope. The two guards looked at each other before looking at me like I was some kind of lamb going to play in the tiger’s den. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in these streets?” The man, who looked like he could practically step on someone, asked. I looked at him with a dead expression on my face before opening my mouth and speaking, “Siren.” 

That seemed to knock them off their boots. They took the red rope and moved it just enough for me to slip inside. I quickly whipped out my phone to text Kaileen to tell her I was here. 

To: Kaileen Rivers 

I’m here, where are you? 

Read 10:53 pm 

From: Kaileen Rivers 

Go down the stairs and I’m standing by the entrance 

Sent 10:54 pm 

Entrance? I thought I was already here. I rolled my eyes and followed her very vague instructions. The stairs were very narrow, and you could see just how sticky they were. The heels clicked and clacked against the metal until I finally reached the bottom. The room was lit by a red and blue light, some corners were even purple. I saw Kaileen exactly where she said she was, all in her tall, blonde glory. She notices me by the sound of her Louis Vuitton heels she let me borrow. 

“Ryder! I thought I told you to be here at 10:30, missy.” She speaks, reapplying her classic sheer pink lipgloss. 

“Sorry I had to walk a mile in your Louis Vuitton’s! This isn’t something I normally do, Kai.” I sigh. 

“Enough of that! Tonight, we’re going to have a good time, and if that means I make you take shots and drink vodka cran all night, then I’m gonna do it.” She says, pointing her finger at me. 

That’s Kaileen. Kaileen June Rivers, a daredevil, and a somewhat intimidating blonde girl. She was just like Bubbles from The Powerpuff Girls, but when you pushed her buttons, she fought back with everything she had. Everyone told me that since she was Bubbles, I was Buttercup. Not giving a shit about what people said, sometimes bitter, and would not hesitate to knock someone out if I had to. We haven’t found our Blossom yet, and I’m not sure we need to. 

I’m Ryder, Ryder Hailey Thompson, to be exact. I like adventure, but I never dared to enter a scene like this. It took the guts that I didn’t have, but Kaileen did. If you ask me what I’m doing on a normal day, I might just say either getting way too high to sit still or go drive to the nearest cliff and watch the world beneath me. 

We met in high school when we got paired to do our Chemistry project. She had the brains, I had the artistry, it was a perfect match. Ever since then, we’ve stuck together like glue. Most of the time she had to drag me to things like this. 

“How did you even find this place?” I ask, following her through the red lighting of the palace. 

“A little birdy told me about it, and I knew we had to come and check it out.” 

As we walked further into the palace, I was met with a beautiful smell of alcohol, sweat, and some type of narcotic I haven’t tried yet. Everyone was dancing, drinking, not having a care in the world. My steps were put to a halt once we were at the bar. Kaileen begins to talk to the bartender, they seem to know each other. I have never seen this man once. 

His hair was a jet black color, and it looked curly. He had sprinkles of tattoos on his arms, bicep, and wrist. He had a contagious laugh and smile. I couldn’t exactly make out the color of his eyes, but they looked like a hazel green from what I could see, with the strobe lights constantly going, it was hard to tell. 

“So, what are we drinking tonight?” He asks. 

Kaileen turns to me, giving me the ‘you need to loosen up’ look. I just shrug, not caring what I’m drinking, as long as it’ll get me to look like the people on the floor. 

“We’ll take two vodka crans, don’t hold back on the vodka.” Kaileen giggles, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ears. And there it is, the shameless flirting. The bartender hands us the drinks and continues to talk with Kaileen. 

I spin around in my seat, watching how the people on the floor looked. It might be weird to some, but I love to people watch. Watch how if they’re carefree, stressed out, or just a go with the flow type of person. I always used to make up stories in my head when I was younger until my mother scolded me for staring at others. 

That’s when I found the person to watch tonight. A tall, tan, tattooed man. He looks carefree, but aware of his surroundings at the same time. I assume the drink he is sipping on is whiskey, considering the shortness of the glass and the brown liquid inside it. We make eye contact for about a minute, which is way too long for two strangers. He gives me a sly smile and starts making his way over. But once he moved, I couldn’t help but stare at the man behind him.  

He looked about the same height, long blonde hair with half it covering his face. He also had tattoos, is there some tattoo memo I’m not getting? The room might be dark, but it looked like a spotlight was on him. It was like everything and everyone around us was floating, except the two of us. I didn’t realize I was practically drooling until Kaileen nudged my arm. 

I look up and see the man who I originally was watching. Okay, thinking that makes me sound like a total creep. 

“You sure got shy, I’m Calum.” The man, Calum, states. 

“I’m Ryder, it’s nice to meet you.” I smile up at Calum. 

I couldn’t help but focus back onto the other man who was standing behind him. We make eye contact, holding it for a few seconds before I break away with a blush creeping onto my cheeks. I look back just one last time to catch a small smirk on his lips. 

“So, tell me, Ryder, what’s gotten you to the palace tonight.” He asks, taking a sip from his drink. 

Before I could even answer, Kaileen jumps right into the conversation. “I decided to take her out, she needs more adventure in her life.” 

I roll my eyes at Kaileen’s response. “I’m plenty adventurous, I’ve just never been into the club scene.” 

“Hate to break it to you, Ryder, but doing shrooms and walking to 7/11 isn’t adventurous.” Kaileen giggles. 

That catches the bartender’s attention. “Shrooms, huh? Have you ever tried acid? Take a tab from Luke, and you’ll wish you felt like that all the time. I’m Ashton by the way.” 

So that’s his name. The conversation about narcotics continues, but I’m not listening one bit. The only thing on my mind right now is that blonde boy on the other side of the club. He was now sitting comfortably on one of the black velvet couches, in what I’m assuming is the V.I.P section. He has another blonde boy next to him. His hair long and curly, a red shirt that was opened down to his chest with a chain around his neck that hung down to his chest. And to my surprise, there were no tattoos, at least that I saw. 

Ashton and Calum seem to notice my stares. With the way my straw was sitting on top of my lips, the hooded look in my eyes, I was in a complete trance. “I’m starting to think you’ve got eyes for someone else, pretty girl,” Calum whispers down to me. 

I look up at him again, his chocolate brown eyes looking down on me. “Sorry, but, who are those guys?” I ask, trying to point across the club discreetly. 

Calum clicks his tongue. He looks over to where the two blondes are sitting, now with multiple girls surrounding them. “You don’t wanna meet those men, Ryder. They’re too, dangerous, for a girl like you.” 

My brows furrow, definitely not liking what he just said. “And how do you know I’m not dangerous, Calum? I could be your worst nightmare.” 

He just chuckles, not taking what I said seriously. “You’re a fiery one, aren’t ya? I like that.” 

“Don’t push her, Calum. That is a battle you will not win.” Kaileen defends. I huff and turn around, trying to push the image out of my head. 

Ashton slides me a shot. I don’t ask, I down it like it’s water. After that shot, I see another vodka cran in front of me, along with two more shots. I chug the drink, hiccuping before grabbing one of the shots and downing it. 

I close my eyes and my head starts to spin. The blue in my eyes becomes invisible as soon as my pupils dilate. With the music beaming throughout the palace, it only makes my head pound harder.

I tap on Kaileen’s shoulder, “I need to pee!” She nods and begins to get up, but I stop her. 

“Ryder, I am not letting you go to the bathroom alone.” She fights back. “It’ll be fine! Just point me in the right direction, and I’ll go and come back, nothing in between.” 

Once I know the direction, I make my way across the sticky floor. I come face to face with a black door and some normal lighting, no more of that red bullshit. I do my business and wash my hands. I take a quick look in the mirror, and I look completely disheveled. I don’t know how since all we’ve done since we got here is sit, drink, and talk. I smooth down my hair, fix the top a little bit before heading out. 

As I’m walking, I carelessly bump into someone, knocking me down onto the sticky floor. 

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going at all.” I apologize before standing up. A hand reaches down, insisting I grab it and pulls me back to my feet. When I finally look up, I see the man sitting next to the one I was looking at. 

His eyes are crystal blue and his teeth pearly white. It feels like I have to strain my neck just to look up at him since he is at least a foot or so taller than me. You can tell that he used to have a piercing in his lip from the tiny hole that was still healing. 

“It’s all right, angel. I don’t know where you were heading, but a girl like you shouldn’t be wandering this place alone.” The way he spoke was cocky. You sir, need an ego check. 

“I-I was just coming back from the bathroom, thought I was sober enough to go alone, but I guess not,” I say.

 He then asks if I’m headed back to the bar, and he walks me there, a hand hovering over my lower back. I mentally slap myself for running into someone as attractive as him. But hey, at least it wasn’t the other one. 

We’re back to the red scenery, the music is still pounding in my head. I point to where I was sitting, Kaileen perched high on the barstool, and he quickly recognizes Calum and Ashton. Once I’m back to my rightful spot next to Kaileen, Calum and Ashton begin talking to the other man. “Luke, this is Kaileen, and the little lady you bumped into, is Ryder.” 

Luke. Well, Luke, you’re a sucker for sore eyes. Wait, is this the Luke that Ashton was telling me about? 

“Ryder, you’ll be happy to know that Luke has any drug you could possibly want. If you’re still up for that acid, he’s got you covered.” Ashton says. I shake my head, not sure if I 100% trust him since Calum was the one to say they’re ‘dangerous’ even if it’s true, I’ll find out for myself. 

~ 

The next morning I wake up with a pounding headache and a large bruise on my thigh. I unplug my phone and adjust my eyes to the brightness. Apple really needs to have a ‘you drank way too much last night’ complimentary mode. And I see I have about four messages from Kaileen. 

From: Kaileen Rivers 

Wake up, Ryder! 

Sent 8:37 am 

From: Kaileen Rivers 

I have tea! Wake tf up! 

Sent 8:40 am 

From: Kaileen Rivers 

Okay, I forget how much you like to 

sleep after a night out, but my god woman

take some advil, chug some water

and get your shit together! 

Sent 8:42 am 

From: Kaileen Rivers

If you’re not up by 10

I will be knocking down your door 

Sent 8:45 am 

And that was the last one before I finally called her. It rings three times before I hear her speak, “Finally! Jesus woman, you need to hold your liquor better.” 

“Excuse me, we all can’t have the tolerance of a fucking mammoth.” I groan into the phone. 

“Alright, I’ll let that slide, but I have tea!” 

“What could you possibly know now, Kai. I swear you’re like a book of secrets growing by the minute.” I mumble. 

“Can you just shut up and let me spill!” Kaileen huffs. I couldn’t see her through the phone, but I know she’s rolling her eyes at me. 

“Okay, okay, what is it?” I asked. 

“You remember Ashton and Luke from last night?”

“The cocky asshole with bright blue eyes that I fell in front of? Yes, I remember.” I sigh, looking at how the nail polish has chipped in various places on my nails. 

“Well, while you were staring at whoever, Ashton asked me on a date, and of course I said yes.” She beings to say. 

“Okay? This doesn’t seem like tea, Kaileen, it just seems like a normal Friday night for you.” 

Yes, Kaileen is the one that all boys fawn over. If you look at her, she is the perfect mixture of an angel and a devil. She’s blonde, she’s pretty, she’s smart, hell even I wanna go out with her. I’m surprised Calum and Luke spoke to me without trying to win her over. 

“Anyways, Luke was eyeing you and he asked if you two could come along, so you, my sweet girl, are coming on a double date with me.” 

I groaned as soon as she finished her sentence. I don’t like the whole dating scene to begin with, after being in a four-year relationship and then just to get your heart ripped out when you thought everything was fine, sucks. 

“Do I have to go? Can you tell Luke I have, like, fucking crabs or something?” I was completely serious when finishing that sentence. 

“Ryder! I will not tell him that, I want you ready by 8:00. So, you go eat, shower, take a nap, and do whatever else you need to do so you’re ready on time.” She demanded. 

“Yes, mom.” 

Great, I expected to spend my day in nothing but sweatpants and ordering pizza while watching reruns of Bob’s Burgers. Now, I have to get dolled up again for this date. Part of me wants to blow the whole thing off, but the other half of me wants to see what’ll happen. I know Kaileen is only doing this because she cares about me, and would kill to see me happy like I was with Andrew. She still resents him to this day. 

Pushing all of those thoughts to the back of my mind, I start brewing some coffee and pull out whatever I find appetizing. I’m now starting to regret Ashton giving me those shots once I take a bite of the toast. Instead of focusing on not throwing my guts up in the kitchen, I focus on the man on that goddamn black velvet couch. If only it were him I bumped into and got this fucking bruise. Oh, who am I kidding, if it were him, I’d die of embarrassment. 

As soon as I’m finished eating, I get a notification. I grab my phone, expecting to see Kaileen’s name across it, but instead, it’s an unknown number. 

From: Unknown 

You’re quite hard to get a hold of, darling. 

Sent 11:02 am 

To: Unknown

Do I know you? You might have the wrong number… 

Read 11:03 am 

From: Unknown 

You should, you were staring at me 

all last night. Has anyone told you 

that it’s rude to stare? 

Sent 11:03 am 

It might be this fucking headache, but if I’m not crazy, this could be the man that I can’t get out of my head. How could he have even gotten my number? None of us even spoke to him! 

From: Unknown 

Be on your best behavior tonight, for Luke. 

I’ll be watching you, and if you want out,

well, you know the code word. 

Sent: 11:06 am 

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

[valkyrieofsmut]

Captive Love   3

UF!Sans x Reader (or Frisk if you wanna)

Summary: Reader finally wakes up! And Sans is happy to see her… very happy to see her.

A/N: I don’t really have much to say, except hi… so… hi!

Masterlist      Series Masterlist

Story

Cute when you’re mad.

(Y/n) rolled to the side, her eyes feeling crusty and sore.

As she tried to move, her body felt sore, too, the kind of sore that came from laying in an uncomfortable position for too long.

A scratchy hum stuttered from her as she opened her eyes and looked around.

What the hell? She wondered, taking in what she could see. She had no idea where she was, nothing looked familiar.

“wadda ya mean?” A low voice drifted to her through the closed door.

“I MEAN THAT YOU STILL HAVE RESPONSIBILITIES, YOU STILL HAVE TO MAKE YOUR ROUNDS,” a loud, condescending, voice told him.

(Y/n) felt fear spike in her, not recognizing either voice, and feeling nervous due to one yelling.

She just needed to get up, say thanks as she passed them and run the hell out of there. She felt like anyone would do the same in her situation.

(Y/n) pushed the blankets down, stretching her sore muscles with a wince.

“bro, we ain’t in th’ underground any more! i know it makes ya feel better, but we don’t need-” the first voice started off aggressively, but then he stopped himself and took a deep breath to reset his tone. “hey, look, bro, i dunno what’s wrong wit ‘er- but-” his tone started turning tense again.

“WE DO NEED IT!” The loud voice exclaimed, making (Y/n) shoot up in the bed.

The sudden motion made her choke on her saliva, and the cough set off a coughing fit.

“doll?” The deeper voice asked from the side of her.

(Y/n) looked over and saw- a fucking skeleton.

Not literally a “fucking” skeleton, but- it was a skeleton!

He seemed a bit chubby, which may or may not have had something to do with his thick black, fuzzy trimmed coat, his dark eye sockets lit by twin red lights, and his sharp grin stretched into a concerned grimace, a single gold tooth gleaming.

She’d thought it was just a crazy fever dream, seeing a skeleton giving her water… Guess not.

“d-doll, ya ok?” He asked as he started toward the bed.

A stranger- a monster, who were known to hurt and kill humans- a skeleton - any of those things alone would have made her nervous, but all of them together, and when she was in a strange place? Trapped in a room with him? It set her off.

(Y/n) screamed, or, she tried to. What came out was a flutter of her vocal cords, a strobe effect of sound that cut in and out, until it caught and started her coughing fit again.

“doll!” The skeleton hurried toward her, concern showing, though (Y/n) couldn’t see it through her fear, or her coughing. “ya a'right?”

(Y/n) tried to get away from the large, rushing male, but her legs were still trapped under the blanket.

“shi- sweetheart, careful, y’re gonna fall off th’ bed,” he told her, hurrying around the end of the bed and catching her as she did, indeed, start falling.

(Y/n) was scrambling to get away from him, and he was trying to catch her so she didn’t hurt herself, leading to them fumbling and somehow ending up with her pinned against the wall, his one arm boxing her in, the other stuffed in the pocket of his coat.

“heh… so, uh… thassa bit different than th’ last time ya was awake…” The skeleton said, his nervous tone highlighted by the lightly glowing blush on his cheeks.

(Y/n) just stared at him in confusion, not sure what to do, but afraid to move. She just needed to watch the situation. It wasn’t a great situation, but she’d learned over her life to always watch for her chance to get out, knowing that she sometimes had to bide her time for the safest moment.

“you, uh… ya need-” His blush seemed to dissipate a little, his brow dipping to give the impression of a suave expression. “howabouta reminda?” He asked with a tilt to his skull.

His hand left his pocket and trailed the tips of his phalanges down her cheek, then cupped it, leaning in to kiss her.

(Y/n) was frozen in shock.

How did skeletons even kiss?! Were those his teeth pressing against her lips, or did he have some sort of boney lips?! Her hands went to his shoulders to push him away, but slid up over them as he pressed closer and deepened the kiss, his tongue- he had a tongue?!- slipping across her bottom lip and parting her lips to meet hers, warm, with just a hint of a tingle, twisting and turning in ways she’d never felt.

Oh woooow…

(Y/n)’s eyes drifted shut and her hands tightened on the fabric of his coat, her body arching to his, and she was having trouble holding back the moan that wanted to escape. Good thing her voice was virtually nonexistent.

He parted from her, the red glow still visible on his cheeks. “fuck, that wuz good… heh…” He murmured near her lips.

His sockets had closed to become half lidded- somehow?- and the grin showing off his sharp teeth showed his enjoyment.

(Y/n) realized that his body was touching her, pressing her against the wall, his hand still cupping her jaw.

Despite that kiss being- well, she’d be lying if she tried to say that it hadn’t been great, but he was still some strange guy that had her pinned to the wall!

(Y/n) tugged at his coat, pushing against him with her body, trying to get him away from her, or at least far enough to escape.

“hnnnn…” The sound rumbled from his throat, his expression falling into a more sensual one.

Oh shit… That was not the direction she’d intended to take this… She started pushing harder against him, starting to panic a bit.

“don’t, doll,” Sans tried to warn, feeling himself getting excited by her movements. She was so soft, so nice feeling…

She continued pushing and wriggling against him, exciting his body even more as her breasts pressed into him.

“doll…” Another rumble left him, and he licked the edge of his teeth. “dollface, ya gotta…” fuck… She felt so good pressing and bumping against him, inadvertently rubbing his pelvis.

Sans ducked his head, taking her mouth in another kiss, this one a little rougher, needier.

She was still struggling, and it pulled a growl from him, drawing his instinctual responses. He had her, pinned and against him. And she was fighting back , challenging his dominance. That deep down, forgotten instinct told him to take her, mark her to show everyone that she was his, to pick her up and hold her thighs around him as he pounded into her.

His hands grabbed her wrists, dragging them from his coat and pinning them over her head. Taking them both in one hand, his other trailed down her arm, following the line of her side, sending shivers through her body, until it got to her hip, sliding around to run over and squeeze her ass a couple of times before settling just above it and tightening his grasp, pulling her tighter against his growing groin.

He pulled away from her mouth, his sharp teeth giving a gentle nip under her jaw before he sighed out a hot breath over her throat and shoulder.

“fuck- sweetheart ya gotta stop-” another needy growl escaped, “ya gotta stop movin’…”

She didn’t. He pressed harder against her, trying to get her to stop by pressing her into the wall. She kept struggling and rubbing against him.

“trus’ me, sweetheart, hol’ still. y’re not gettin’ the results ya want, are ya,” he pointed out, licking his teeth again and holding back his needy frustration. “jus’ gimme a minute, doll… lemme get aholda myself…”

(Y/n) stilled, trying to hold back her panic. He at least sounded like he was trying to stop, and wasn’t planning on doing anything unsavory. God, she hoped her instincts were right… Though they’d served her well in the past. Enough to be alive now, at least.

After a minute he let go of her, pushing himself back from the wall. He was silent for a moment, just looking at her before he gave a chuckle. “heh… well. seems we did this kinda backwards. hi, doll, i’m sans. sans the skeleton,” he told her, moving his hand out for her to shake.

(Y/n) was completely and utterly confused. What the hell was this guy planning?

She poked her hand out to shake his, getting out, “-y ..a.. …s (…/n).”

Sans winced at her voice. “eh, thatta- that don’ sound good. ya ok, sweetheart, ya need some water?”

(Y/n)’s brows met in confusion at his sudden politeness and she nodded. He nodded a direction and waited for her to go first, directing her to sit on the edge of the bed and handing her the glass of water as he crouched in front of her.

She drank it down thirstily, not stopping for breath until the glass was empty.

“heh… ya ok, now?” He asked. She nodded and his grin widened. “good. now, what’s yer name, sweetness?”

(Y/n) tried again, getting out a quiet croak, then rethought it and leaned closer.

Sans smiled teasingly and asked, “ya wanna 'nother kiss, sweetness?”

(Y/n) blushed as her eyes shot wide, shaking her head and leaning back.

“ahh, tryna whisper.”

She nodded and experimentally leaned in. He didn’t move, so she leaned in and managed to whisper, “(Y/n).”

Sans felt his soul thump against his ribs. “(y/n),” he murmured. She nodded to him, her lip quirking up. “stars- ya look so pretty…” Her eyes shot open again showing her unease with that comment. Sans felt nervousness rise in his nonexistent gut. “s-so, why’d ya kiss me, doll?”

(Y/n) squeaked in shock as she denied it, shaking her head and pointing at him.

Sans stood up and looked down at her, stuffing his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching for her. “nah, doll, before? 'n th’ alley. right before ya passed out.”

She stopped flailing, looking at him in confusion.

“don’t remember, huh?” He asked softly. She shook her head apologetically. Sans grit his teeth, supposing that it was too good to be true.

Before he knew it, his self protective instinct of pushing everyone away reacted.

“heh. ya weren’t tryna get a customer or nothin’?”

“-at!?” She demanded with a squeak.

She was angry, he could tell. Her face was flushed, darker than her fever had had her…

And he found he liked the way her reaction made her fill with passion. She looked so desirable like this; eyes flashing, cheeks flushed, chest puffing with her breath.

(Y/n) opened her mouth but paused, taking a breath and clenching her jaw, turning away from him with a glare on her face.

“hey, nothin’ wrong wit it if ya were, dollface,” though his soul felt a rage boil in it at the thought, “oldes’ profession in th’ world.”

(Y/n) shot to standing, glaring at him as though daring him to say anything else.

And who was he to turn down a dare?

“i mean,” he turned his head and shrugged carelessly, “ya jus’ met me and ya couldn’t keep yourself from tryna suck my face.” Her cheeks were darker, her eyes narrowed angrily, her teeth clenched and bared… and his cock was thickening. “though, there wasn’t any talk a payin’ beforehand.”

(Y/n)’s finger landed on his chest, her voice squeaking out as she tried to yell at him. He was pretty sure her speech went along the lines of “listen here, buddy,” telling him off.

His grin just pissed her off more, he could tell, especially when her finger stopped jabbing and her hand started smacking. His lack of reaction to her smacking was also pissing her off, and it turned from one hand to two slapping against his chest.

Sans caught both of her hands against his chest, holding them against him and taking a step toward her, ushering her so that the bed caught the back of her knees and she fell back to sitting on it. “careful, doll. ya might jus’ be gettin’ me all excited ‘gain wit yer indignant rant.”

(Y/n) looked up at him in confusion, but her eyes were drawn back about face level as he tilted his hips to her to get her attention where he meant. She gasped and pulled back, trying to escape.

How the hell did a skeleton get a hard on?! New meaning to the term bone-r… She winced internally at the awful pun.

“don’t worry yer pretty lil head, dollface; i ain’t doin’ nothin’ ta ya. jus’ lettin’ ya know th’ consequences a yer actions.” He pulled her hands away from his chest, ducking a little to place a kiss on the inside of her wrist with a wink.

(Y/n) felt her cheeks heating in a blush and hated herself a little more.

She’d known this guy for how long ? And she’d already basically made out with him. Apparently more than once.

She needed to get the hell out of here.

She tried to say his name, but it came out as a rasp, unintelligible to either of them. She tried again, but had the same result.

Her face twisted in irritation before she made a motion like writing on a paper.

“sorry, sweetheart,” he shrugged, “i ain’t really learned how ta read human writing, yet.”

After becoming very self conscious from Sans watching her pout at her inability to communicate, she finally just turned to the door and pointed.

He lifted a brow. “ya wanna go out?” She nodded. “nah, ya really don’t wanna do that, sweetheart,” he told her.

She made a nervous movement, pulling back from him, and he realized how that must have sounded.

Sans winced and dropped to his knee in front of her, his hand going out cup her face. “nah, doll, don’t get me wrong; this ain’t a prison, ya ain’t trapped in my room- my brudda is jus’ an asshole sometimes ‘s all. ‘f ya really wanna go out there, we can…” (Y/n) thought of whoever had that loud voice and shook her head, and he grinned. “good choice, sweetheart. we can get ta know each other betta in here wit’out that asshole.”  

(Y/n) shook her head again, and gestured with two hands like a pillow; “sleep.”  

Sans’ brow ridge dipped in confusion. “huh?”

She made the motion again and pointed to the bed.

“ya want a nap?” He asked.

She shrugged to herself; it was close enough. She nodded.

“if ya wanna,” he shrugged, then a wicked grin grew on his face. “my bed that comfy?”

(Y/n) shook her head in frustration. She again made the sleep gesture and pointed to the door, alternating between them so he got the message.

“ya wanna take a nap on the couch?” He asked, his hand leaving her to rub over the back of his skull as he looked away from her. “i mean, ya can, but i dunno why ya’d wanna when there’s a perfectly good bed right here.”

He saw her cross her arms out of the edge of his eye socket and looked back to see the very unamused look on her face. “heh,” he gave an innocent chuckle.

She pointed at herself and then to the bed as she continued staring him down, as though telling him that she was onto his shit and knew that he knew exactly what she meant.

He cleared his throat, looking away angrily as his cheeks heated. “maybe I jus’ want more time wit ya when y’re awake,” he mumbled.

Sans heard her let out a tch before she smacked his shoulder. He turned back to face her and saw her mouth the word “why?” Before he could say anything, though, she followed it up with, “why not just ask?”  

His expression turned a little harsher, taking a turn toward self hatred himself. “don’t gussy it up fer me, doll- like any girl ‘s pretty as you would ever go for a guy like me…”

She was silent for a moment and his eyes drifted away, knowing that she was agreeing with him, but then she started humming. It was a human tune, a tune he’d heard before, but he couldn’t place it. It took her making a few gestures that went with the lyrics for him to figure it out, and when he did, his face got even redder.

“hey! that ain’t funny!” He growled, but she broke into a set of squeaky giggles. “i’ll show you ‘spooky, scary skeletons,’” he threatened without any real intent behind it. She just laughed harder, squeaks and wheezes making it out, and he found he couldn’t stay mad at her. After a moment he cracked a smile. “heh… bet that laugh a yers is even prettier when ya got a voice.”

She blushed and looked away again.

Sans was about to say something when he was interrupted by the louder skeleton calling him to dinner.

“you, uh… you feelin’ good enough ta eat somethin’?” He asked.

(Y/n) thought for a moment, but she did feel hungry, starving, actually, so she nodded.

“ya-” he looked away a little uncomfortably, “ya want me ta bring ya some food, or ya wanna come down?”

“SANS!!! DINNER IS READY !!!” His brother demanded his presence. Neither got a chance to say a word before he called again, “SANS!!!”

“fuck,” he grumbled, going to the door and opening it to call out, “i’m comin’! fuckin’ hell!” He turned back to her, apprehension starting to show in his posture. “so… y-ya wanna come d-down?”

(Y/n) thought for a moment before shaking her head.

Sans nodded. “a‘right. i’ll bring ya some food- smells like he made lasagna. b’right back.”

He left and (Y/n) let out the deep breath she’d been holding.

He claimed that she was free to leave, but he didn’t want her to enough that he wouldn’t let her. And his personality kept switching at breakneck pace, going from perfectly nice to horny to pissy in the blink of an eye.

That was not a good sign. People with that trait were usually a volatile sort who then turned out to be the sort to hit or otherwise abuse you.

Not that she had any experience with that! … or maybe she did… She rubbed her hand over her shoulder at the memory.

She sighed and stood, looking around for her shoes, seeing them with her jacket, which was folded nicely, on the chair by Sans’ desk. They were the only thing in tidy order in the room, which, from the state of it, she’d have to assume a tornado had passed through, tossing everything everywhere out of order. Her pockets were empty except for a receipt and a collapsable tampon, and her bag was nowhere in sight, which meant that her wallet, phone, and keys were all gone somewhere. Probably back where she’d passed out.

Ugh.

She put the shoes and her jacket on before running her fingers through her hair to try and make it presentable as she walked to the door and looked around before heading to the stairs. She could see the lower floor over the railing, a couch, a table, not much, but not empty enough to be poor looking.

She reached the floor and saw that the sounds of plates and cutlery were coming from the room off of the one she was in, just happening to be situated under Sans’ room.

No wonder she’d been able to hear them so well earlier.

Another skeleton sat at the table in the kitchen, this one seeming thinner and taller than Sans, he had on a completely black outfit with sharp shoulder pads, the only visible pops of color were his red scarf and gloves. (Y/n) saw a three marked scar over his left eye socket, which looked a little worse for the wear, and it, along with his sharp teeth, made him seem very intimidating.

Sans paused where he was heading toward the stairs with a plate of lasagna in his hand.

Both skeletons had their red pupiled sockets on her, and it made her start to feel a bit nervous.

“h-hey, doll, i was jus’ bringin’ it up ta ya,” Sans told her, looking a bit nervous and taking a quick glance at the other skeleton.

(Y/n) glanced over both of them, noting that the taller skeleton seemed to be observing her, not moving or saying anything.

She looked back to Sans and motioned to herself and the door, giving a smile and a wave.

“no!”

All eyes were on Sans at his nervous order.

“uh- i mean- ya can’t go out there!” He was babbling, looking a bit sweaty. “’s not safe fer ya!”

The other skeleton looked at him and his eye sockets visibly adjusted, almost like he was squinting at him.

“doll, don’t,” Sans managed more calmly, though he still looked nervous.

The other skeleton’s eyes were back to her, taking in the way she had recoiled, more each time Sans told her not to go. Her expression was one of challenge, as though she were going to try to dare them to stop her.

“ONLY A HUMAN DEVOID OF BRAINS WOULD GO OUT INTO THE MONSTER TERRITORY, ESPECIALLY ALONE,” he said, his voice sounding pompous and cruel. “EVEN THE ONLY MONSTERS THAT WOULD GO OUT AROUND SUNDOWN ARE THE ONES WHO ARE FOOLISH OR STUPID.”

Sans noticed the way she flinched warily at his brother’s loud, harsh voice and flashed him a glare.

(Y/n) pointed at her wrist, looking a bit stressed.

“what time is it?” Sans guessed.

“DINNER TIME,” his brother answered.

(Y/n) walked closer to Sans making gestures, and trying to get her point across.

“late? late fer what, sweetheart?” He asked.

How did she explain a job in a way that they would understand? She looked at the floor hopelessly for a moment, then looked up. She pointed at the sitting skeleton, mimicked a talking motion with her hand, pointed at Sans, lifted her finger up in the air, made a circle with it, then put her hand over her eyes and mimicked looking around.

It took a few repeats of the circle with added walking motion and looking gestures before he asked, “why’re ya worried ‘bout my lookout rounds, doll?”

She made the motions for his “rounds” again, then pointed at him followed by the universal sign for money.

“money- job. you gotta job, sweetheart?” He asked with a wince. She nodded vigorously. “they uh… they expectin’ ya wit’in th’ las’ three days?”

(Y/n) looked at him in confusion, and he could see the realization dawn on her as her eyes widened. She tapped her wrist again where a watch would be and pointed at the floor.

“doll,” Sans took a step closer, but didn’t reach out, seeming a little awkward about how to comfort her. “s-sweetheart… ya been here, outta it fer three days.”

Panic rose a little in (Y/n)’s chest and she pointed at where his pocket should be, miming holding a phone to her head.

“ya wanna use my phone? sure,” he told her, pulling his phone out and opening it in “guest safe mode” so she couldn’t get into any of his personal stuff.

(Y/n) took the phone and checked the date, worry etching itself on her face.

She’d intended to call her boss after she caught a nap and tell him she was sick, but… apparently she had passed out and spent the last three days sleeping in a stranger’s bed.

That meant she had at least one no call no show, but probably two, since they had probably already been entered into the system for the day. And she had no way to get back at the moment, so that didn’t bode well for tomorrow.

She opened the phone app and dialed the store number, hearing it ring and ring. She glanced out the window, seeing the setting sun.

It rang for five minutes before she gave up. They were probably already starting to close the store… Which would mean that the manager wouldn’t be able to hear the phone from the cash office.

After a moment of debating what to do, aware that both skeletons were watching her every move, she dialed her phone and put in the code to access her voicemail.

Four messages… great.

First one, her boss asking where she was, second one, an irritated boss asking where she was, third one a warning about getting a no call no show, fourth- a second no call no show and a warning that she was one away from being fired.

If she didn’t leave, if she didn’t make it to work tomorrow morning-

It wasn’t like she loved her job or anything, it wasn’t her life’s ambition, but it paid the rent!

Surely they’d be lenient if they found out what had happened? Being trapped in a war zone got people excused from work, right?

“WHY DOESN’T SHE SPEAK? IS SHE STUPID?” The loud skeleton asked.

(Y/n) looked over at him with a cocked eyebrow, surprise at his seeming ineptitude at social interactions filling her.

Sans turned to him, a coldness surrounding him as he glared at his brother with empty sockets. “she lost 'er voice,” he growled, then demanded, “why ya gotta be such a asshole?!”

(Y/n) warily watched him; this mood was not the time to bother someone with the potential to go violently off in.

But she needed to know.

With a slight shake in her hand, she touched the back of his arm, first handing him the phone to put a space between the moment he was angry and the moment she asked her question.

Sans set the plate of lasagna he’d been holding the whole time on the table and took his phone from her, shoving it back into the pocket of his loose basketball shorts.

Now or never… Well, not never , but she really should do it sooner rather than later.

(Y/n) took the back of Sans’ sleeve in her hand and brought his attention to her.

“wazzup, sweetheart?” He asked.

She pointed at him, her, then the door, her eyes not quite meeting his, in case that would make him more likely to be angry.

“ya want me ta go wit ya?”

“NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT! I WILL NOT LET YOU ENDANGER MY BROTHER’S LIFE!!” The sitting skeleton burst out.

Sans flashed him a glare when (Y/n) flinched and shifted to be more behind him, before turning back to her. “much as i’d love ta walk ya home, sweetheart, even a tough monster like me ain’t gonna last long traveling wit a human. even in th’ daylight.”

So. That was it, then.

It really would be putting his life on the line if Sans took her out of the house.

There was too much push back from both of them for it not to be reasonable, and, honestly, their arguments aligned with the warnings of the monster territory.

They’d even let her call out without any push back, like they weren’t worried about anyone finding out they had her there.

“s-so- ya wanna join us fer dinner, since y’re 'already down here?” The slight nervous shiver was back to his voice.

(Y/n) let out a sigh, dropping her head in momentary defeat. It’s not like there was anything else she could do at the minute. She may as well eat.

She nodded and sat down at the table. 

[tiptapricot]

Hey hi, I’m the Dana accidentally ends up saving Batman multiple times anon and I’m a complete moron for not thinking this until now!!!! 5 TIMES DANA SAVES BATMAN + 1 TIME TERRY SAVES DANA (AND EVERYTHING CLICKED TOGETHER)

Anon I swear this wasn’t supposed to take this long but it became 10k+ words of fluff, angst, and character study so I hope that makes up for it. You can read it on AO3 here, enjoy!

—

1.

The first time she isn’t thinking.

The lights of the club are still flashing, but the pulsing music is drowned out by screams and shouts as people run for the door. Dana should be with them, she should be running too, following Blade and Chelsea and Terry, but she can’t move. She’s huddled behind an overturned table, watching petrified as Batman dances through the strobe lights, dodging blows like a liquid shadow.

She doesn’t know what the goons want or where they came from, but they’re dressed in matching blue uniforms and wielding chains and maces that glow white hot and burn the patterned carpet when they drag on the ground.

She’s scared. She’s lived in Gotham her whole life and she can deal with Jokerz and weirdos but these are honest to goodness super villains, more like the ones you’d find in Metropolis.

The fight moves up the stairs to a higher level and she loses sight of them. There’s some kind of small explosion that sends dust cascading over the upper ledges of the club and Dana takes it as her que to move. She runs from wall to wall, trying to avoid getting caught in the open space of the dance floor. There’s a loud yell from somewhere above her, much closer than she thought the goons were, and all she can think about is that someone’s spotted her and that any second she’ll be dropped like a rabid dog. 

She dives behind the juice bar, pulling into herself and waiting as she tries to calm her breathing. She stays crouched and curled up tight against the tiled floor, her heart hammering against her rib cage. Nothing. The sounds of the fight have resumed and she’s fine, she can move. 

Dana peeks up over the counter, scans the room, and starts to get up. 

She’s fine. It’s fine. The door is so close. She can make it.

A body slams into the wood to her right and she screams. She hopes it got lost in the blaring music from the speakers but she isn’t sure. It takes her a moment to actually look at it, and the sight doesn’t make her feel any better. 

It’s Batman, splayed across the counter and barely moving. There’s a large rip on one side of his costume, the black peeling away to reveal a melted mess of circuits. Either he’s unconscious or… Dana gulps in breaths and tries to focus. No, he’s breathing, he’s not dead. 

She hears shouts and footsteps cutting through the beating bass. If they find him he’s as good as dead, and you are too. Dana slips her hands under Batman’s arms and drags him behind the bar. Her palms are sweaty and they keep slipping against his suit but she manages to press the two of them as far into the shadows as they can go. 

She hears the goons shouting orders, telling each other to “fan out!” and “find that bat-dreg!” and she hopes they’re invisible enough to stay hidden.

She glances over at Batman. He looks so odd, the contours of his face smooth and dark, the suit’s material reflecting the strobe lights in odd ways. They’ve only come face to face a few times, but did he always look this young?

A shadow crests over the top of the counter’s silhouette. Dana’s heart rate spikes again and she feels Batman shift next to her. Her hand flies to cover his mouth before he can make a sound. The white lenses of his eyes go wide and she feels an arm wrap around her back, flipping her over and pushing her further against the counter. She doesn’t even have time to feel weird about it, because a second later he disappears before her eyes. But he’s still there, she can feel his breath on her face and feel his weight pressing her into the bar. What the fuck?

They stay like that until the shadow disappears. She can feel Batman lean back just before he becomes solid again, pulling away. He glances over the counter and leans in so she can hear him.

“Wait a few seconds for me to lead them away and then run for the door, alright?”

Dana nods, eyes wide.

Batman smiles, at least she things he does, and then he’s gone, swooping back into the fray.

She hears a roar and a crash and then she’s running for the door. If the shouts are for her she doesn’t pay attention to them. She’s just running, running, drowning in light and sound and—

And the air outside is cold and fresh. A group of policemen rush up to help her away from the building and someone wraps a blanket around her shoulders. Dana’s hands are shaking and she’s still struggling to breathe but it’s okay, it’s alright. Her legs feel like jello and she’s not sure how long she can stand, so she wobbles to the curb and sits down, closing her eyes and taking breath after breath after breath.

Chelsea and Blade run up from the group of people still crowded around the building asking if she’s alright, their faces pinched with worry.

“I’m fine.” She says. But she’s not, at least… she’s not sure. 

The two of them sit down on either side of Dana and rub her shoulders. Blade goes to get her a bottle of water from the medics and Chelsea tells her she called her dad to pick them up. That eases Dana’s worry somewhat.

But Terry isn’t there.

Chelsea says they got separated in the crowd and they haven’t seen him since, so Dana calls him.

He doesn’t pick up. She calls again and he still doesn’t pick up. She sends him a text and calls his mom but she hasn’t seen him either. She can’t help but worry. What if he’s gotten hurt? Why else would he just leave? 

She worries all the way to Chelsea’s house, all the way through dinner, and all the way to bed. She and Blade stay over at Chelsea’s that night instead of going back to the GCU dorms and Terry still hasn’t responded to her messages when they get up the next morning.

Dana sees on the news that members of the Justice League had to be called in to finish taking care of the villains and she wonders for a moment if Batman is alright. He didn’t look in the best shape when she’d helped him, but there were no reports of a body, so maybe he’s fine. She hopes he is at least.

Terry doesn’t come to any of the classes they share that day, or the day after. When he walks into Science on the third day, he’s sporting a nasty black eye and limping. He refuses to tell her what happened and that worries Dana more than anything else.

She knows Terry. She knows his favorite foods and drinks, she knows he’s a sucker for retro 2000s pop, she knows what sent him to Juvie, but for the life of her she can never tell what he’s feeling. 

He doesn’t talk about his insecurities, even though she knows he has loads. He doesn’t talk about his dad much, even though she knows he’s still hurting, and now he won’t tell her why it looks like he was in some kind of fight.

What did he do that night after the attack? What did he get mixed up in?

She drops it after a few days and tries to enjoy the break he has from work. It’s rare Terry gets a day off, not to mention a whole week. He still does the odd job or two for Mr. Wayne or leaves to help his mom with something, but otherwise they’re free to go out and have fun. It’s awesome. Dana has almost forgotten what Terry is like as a boyfriend and she’s not disappointed.

They go to parks and malls and theme parks. He tries to help her learn how to ride his motorcycle, but it doesn’t work as well when he can’t actually show her. They still have a good laugh and end up taking Dana’s car to a movie. It’s nice. Terry is… nice to have around.

She just wishes it could last.

2.

The second time is nearly a month later. Dana is walking with Terry and Max to one of the arcades near the university when they hear a loud crash. They turn a corner, and Dana freezes.

A gang of Jokerz is crowded along the sidewalk, their bikes propped up against lamp posts and fire hydrants. A few of them are spray painting a small electronics store, its windows smashed, white faced kids laughing loudly as they ferry TVs and holo phones into a waiting, beat up, floater truck. 

It wouldn’t be the most uncommon thing to see in Gotham, except that the shop workers are kneeling outside with their hands in the air, bruises swelling on their faces, and a Joker is pointing a laser pistol at their heads.

Terry grabs Dana’s arm and yanks her back around the corner before they can be seen.

“What should we do?” She hisses.

“I’m gonna run to the police station for help and you and Max are going to go back to campus.” Terry says, ushering her away.

“What?”

“He’s right, Dana. Come on let’s go.” Max grabs her arm and starts to pull but Dana shakes her off.

“But what about those people? We can’t just leave them. Who knows what’ll happen before the cops get here?” 

“That’s not our responsibility.” Max insists. “Come on Dana.”

“Terry back me up on this.” Dana turns to look at him and realizes that he’s gone. “Where the hell did he go?”

“He took off for the police station just like he said.” Max grabs her arm again. “Now come on we should really be—“

But she’s interrupted by a shout and the sound of breaking glass. Dana runs to look back around the corner and stops in her tracks.

It’s Batman, in the middle of the day, slamming the Jokerz into each other as he flies above them, leaving thin contrails of smoke in his wake. The employees have managed to get a safe distance away, but the Jokerz are putting up a good fight and tearing up the rest of the street in the process.

Dana can smell the harsh scent of laser plasma and the shots are blinding. Max keeps trying to pull her away but she won’t budge. The night club was terrifying but the fight she’s seeing now is exhilarating. Batman’s red and black blurring through the blinding laser fire, the sunlight filling the street with a yellow glow, she can’t take her eyes off it.

And so she notices, and she sees that Batman doesn’t.

He doesn’t see that when he swoops down to knock over a Joker he lands himself against a wall, he doesn’t see the Jokerz picking themselves up to tackle him, he doesn’t see that if they manage to hold him still for even a few seconds there’ll be a smoking hole right between his eyes.

Dana moves as quickly as possible, ignoring Max’s shouts of warning and stepping over unconscious bodies as she runs for one of the bikes. She grabs a pipe propped up against the tire and rushes at the group of Jokerz as they close in around Batman. 

She knows which one has the gun, she sees that the others have grabbed onto Batman’s arms and are starting to restrain him and so she moves. The pipe hits with a sharp crack against the Joker’s skull and the guy falls limp to the ground. The other members stare at her in shock for a moment, and that’s all the time Batman needs to twist out of their grip. In the next second the gang members are lying in a heap on the ground, knocked out cold.

Dana stands with the pipe still raised, nostrils flaring as the adrenaline wears off. Max is at her side immediately, yelling about how dangerous that was and how she could’ve gotten hurt, but Dana stops her with a laugh.

“That was kind of schway.” She says, letting the pipe slip from her hands.

Batman is still standing there, and he seems to realize after a moment that he shouldn’t be.

“I, uh, I should go. The police will be here soon to pick up these guys so I’ll be… going. Thanks for the help. Dana, right?”

“Yeah, you saved me from that rat kid a few years back.”

“I’m… glad you’re doing okay. And thank you.” And that time he really does smile, she can see it. It’s not a scary smile, like she expected it to be. It’s soft and almost snarky, like he knows something she doesn’t. Batman gives them a nod of recognition and takes off into the air, wings fanning out behind him.

“Sometimes you really scare me Dane, you know that?” Max says after a moment.

Dana laughs and pulls her back to their spot around the corner.

“It’s better than being scared. C’mon let’s wait for Terry.”

3.

The third time is in the heat of the moment, cradled in light and pain.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit.

Matt isn’t in the ball pit or the tube maze, he isn’t in the game area or by the food counter or the bounce house. Dana has checked all those places. Twice. He isn’t anywhere. She’s asked the cooks and the mascots and the employees and the waiters, but they haven’t seen Matt. Oh god no one has seen him. 

She’d taken him to the bathroom before she went to get them pizza, but she hasn’t seen him since. That is not normal for an evening of babysitting, especially not for Matt. Usually she can’t get the kid to quiet down, and she knows he isn’t a fan of hide and seek, so something is wrong.

She calls Terry first. She knows he’s helping Mr. Wayne with some big event tonight, but she doesn’t know what else to do.

“Dana?” Terry picks up on the fourth ring. “You know I’m kind of busy, right?”

“Yeah, Terry, but something… came up.”

There’s a long pause and Dana can almost hear the wheels turning in his head.

“What happened?”

“You know how I said I was going to take Matt to Cheesy Dan’s tonight?”

“Yeah…” He says it slow, worry inching into his voice.

“He went to the bathroom and now I can’t find him. No one’s seen him for like, the past half an hour and I’ve looked everywhere.”

“Okay okay give me a second.”

“I think it’s serious Terry.”

“I know, I know. Are you still at Cheesy Dan’s?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, listen, I’m going to call the police and then see if I can head over. I’m really tangled up but this sounds bad. Talk to you later.”

He hangs up and Dana goes outside to wait. The air is cool and the early evening makes the buildings stick up in glittering silhouettes against the sky.

How could she let this happen? Matt was her responsibility and if she had allowed him get hurt she would never forgive herself. She owes it to Terry. He used to babysit Matt before his job got out of hand. He still works so hard, too. He hasn’t moved out of his mom’s house because he refuses to let her do everything on her own. He’s taking extra classes to try and get his credits done sooner and he still works seven days a week for Mr. Wayne, most of that money going to supporting his tuition fees so that his mom can focus on the house. It’s the least Dana can do to alleviate some of those responsibilities.

“Excuse me.” A finger taps on Dana’s shoulder, making her flinch. She turns and comes face to face with two pointy ears and a pair of white eyes.

“Batman? What are you doing here?”

“I intercepted a police call a few minutes ago from a kid who said his brother was missing. He also told the operator his girlfriend would be waiting for help at Cheesy Dan’s. I was in the area so I thought I’d stop by and see what I can do. What’s the situation?”

“I’m not sure.” Dana rubs her arms, glancing back at the restaurant. “I guess we can’t talk inside, can we?”

Batman shakes his head and gestures to the suit. “I’m not exactly the most inconspicuous company, why?”

“I’m a little, uh, cold.” She gives him a crooked smile. “And I’m guessing your outfit has a little more insulation than mine.”

“Oh… right.” Batman seems genuinely caught off guard for a moment. He looks up and around, thinking, before he presses something on his belt and grabs onto her waste.

“What are you—?” She begins, but a second later they’re rocketing upwards and she has to bite back a scream. She squeezes her eyes shut against the wind and pulls herself closer to Batman. When the air stops she’s met with dim red light and warmth. Batman sets her down and slides into a seat. It takes her a moment to realize she’s inside a car.

“Is this the Batmobile?” She asks, scooting behind his chair. Her legs are squeezed between the leather and the metal dashboards that circle around the interior. “It’s not very roomy.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry about that.” Batman says absentmindedly, easing the thrusters forward. “There aren’t any better places to go, and It should only be for a bit.”

“Right.” Dana settles back against a console and watches the buildings blur by

“So,” Batman presses a button and swivels around to look at her, “tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know, that’s the problem. It’s like he just vanished.”

Batman makes a humming noise and turns back to pull something up on the car’s screen.

“It says here one of the McGinnises has a record. Could it have something to do with that?”

“I guess, but Terry hasn’t been mixed up with those types of people since Big Time bit it in our Junior year.”

Batman visibly stiffens. “They never found the body though, right?”

“The Gotham river is big, maybe it just got lost. Though knowing this town, anything’s possible I guess.”

“Did Bigelow know you babysit the McGinnis kid?”

“I mean… maybe. I knew him before all the shit hit the fan when we were younger, but I didn’t babysit Matt back then.”

Batman taps his fingers thoughtfully on the console. He doesn’t talk, but she watches him pull up a few more specs before he turns to look at her.

“I’ll look into it and make sure Matt gets back to his family safely.” He flashes a smile and it’s not real. It’s strained and business like and it’s… jarring. “I can take you home if you want. Where do you live?”

Dana stares for a moment, before squinting in disbelief. “Wait, that’s it? You can’t just drop me off, I lost this kid, it’s my job to help find him too.”

“Dana, listen, you’re very nice, but you’re a civilian, I can’t just bring you on a case.”

Dana leans forward to look Batman in the eye and hits her knee on something. She bites her lip but doesn’t react further. This is Batman she’s talking to, if she wants to convince him she has to be confidant. She’s still nervous, she’s still just a kid, and she knows that, but Batman doesn’t know Matt. Batman doesn’t know Terry. Dana does, and she can help but she has to make him listen.

“If this actually has something to do with Terry, and it’s not something else crazy, then I could be an asset to you.”

“That really won’t be—”

“Batman, a little boy’s life could be at stake, you need all the help you can get.”

She can’t believe the words that are coming out of her mouth. She’s talking down to Batman. Batman. 

He looks at her, and she sees something familiar in the draw of his brow under the suit, in the muscles and the contour of his face. He turns away before she can pinpoint what it is, and the oddness of the moment sticks in her mind.

“Fine.” He says. “But if there’s a fight you’re staying in here.”

“Can do.”

Batman sighs and the car speeds up. Dana stumbles slightly but can’t help but smile.

They spend the rest of the night together. Batman visits different gang hideouts to ask for information, stopping to end any fights or robberies they catch along the way. At first he’s quiet and serious, but he loosens up as the night progresses. 

He stops every few hours for Dana to drop down and get them coffee, he asks her questions about the McGinnises, even though he only seems to be half paying attention, he tries to make small talk, and he jokes. A lot. God Batman makes a lot of jokes. But Dana doesn’t mind. She always expected Batman to be this stoic guy who only cared about justice, but he’s chatty and funny and nice to be around. He’s a genuinely schway guy.

Dana calls Terry’s mom while Batman’s stopping a break in at a chemical lab and talks to her. She’s in a bit of a panic and Dana manages to calm her down. Terry isn’t home yet either, and Mary puts Dana on hold to call him. She checks back in a few minutes later and says he’s still with Mr. Wayne, and that’s a small weight off Dana’s shoulders if anything. 

Afterwards she leaves a message for her roommate saying she’s spending the night at a friend’s house and settles back in the driver’s seat. At least when Batman’s out she actually gets leg room. “Don’t touch the thrusters,” he told her, “Otherwise you’ll end up going at mach three with no way to steer.” She’d laughed at first, like this car could reach mach three, but he’d looked at her in a way that made her stop.

He’s Batman, of course it can.

At half-past three, Batman comes back to the car after a raid. She opens her mouth to ask how it went but he just shakes his head and starts the engine again. They drive a few blocks in silence before he parks on a rooftop and hops out, gesturing for Dana to follow. She pulls herself out and slides down to the car’s bumper, pausing a moment before jumping to the ground.

Batman has moved to sit on the edge of the building. He’s hunched over, his hands balled up tightly in his lap.

“I’m sorry.” She hears him say. He sounds less gruff than usual. “I haven’t found anything.”

“Do you usually solve your cases in the first few hours?” Dana asks, just a hint of laughter in her voice. She moves to sit behind him, not quite on the edge, but close. The drop is too far to sit right on the edge.

“You don’t understand, I don’t know where Matt is, I don’t know what happened, and I don’t know what else to do.” Batman’s voice cracks on the last word and Dana watches him crumble. His shoulders shake and he curls in on himself a bit more. 

She’s surprised at first. After all, this is Batman she’s looking at, Neo Gotham’s hero, its legend. Of course, he’s not the same Batman from the history books, the one who helped found the Justice League, but he’s the only Batman Dana’s ever known. To see him so vulnerable, to see him cry, it’s like looking at a puzzle with pieces in the wrong places. It doesn’t quite… fit.

Besides, he seemed fine most of the night. He had quieted down in the last hour or so but Dana had just thought it was exhaustion. Maybe it was, but not the physical kind.

Dana hovers for a moment, unsure of what to do. She’s never really had to deal with something like this before. She’s never seen her dad cry and god knows Terry would never even think about it. Chelsea had had a hard time recovering from her time at the Ranch, but she’d mostly stayed home. The most Dana had been able to do was offer comfort.

And in a situation like this, what else can she do?

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry.” Her hand reaches out to pat his back. She rubs little circles between his shoulders, distracted by the feeling of the suit. It almost feels like plastic silk, smooth and industrial. She pulls back after a second and averts her attention to the city below. 

“How about we go back to the car, get some more coffee, and try something else. He can’t have just vanished.” She offers.

“Yeah, that sounds… good.” Batman nods and sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. “And, uh, sorry you had to see that.”

“Don’t worry. You’re only human.” Dana smiles.

“Yeah I guess you’re— duck!” His hand shoves her roughly down against the building top as a barrage of laser fire explodes in the air above them. Dana’s cheek scrapes against the concrete and she winces before Batman yanks her back to her feet.

“What the hell?” She yells. Batman pulls her behind him and shields her with his body, firing several batarangs into the crowd of thugs running at them from the other side of the building. There’s a few more shots fired before he grunts loudly and takes a step back, pulling her closer to his back. They’re getting cornered against the drop, Dana can feel the edge against the heels of her shoes.

“Batman what do we—?”

He cries out in pain when one of the shots makes contact with his abdomen and stumbles back, just a few inches, but those few inches make a world of difference. Suddenly air is rushing past Dana’s face and whipping against the fabric of her dress and the two of them are plunging headfirst into a free fall. 

She screams and Batman twists to grab her, his wings snapping open. His hands are unsteady, and she can smell burnt plastic and feel the roughness of melted metal against her back. The laser fire follows with deafening blasts and they’re only in the air a few seconds before something bursts above Dana with a loud crack, showering her in smoke and sparks.

Batman seizes and goes limp, his arms loosening underneath her, and Dana glances up to see it was his wings. They’re shredded and trailing smoke like a burst jet engine. The tip of one of Batman’s ears is snapped off and Dana realizes with a start that he’s been knocked unconscious by the explosion. 

They start spiraling out of control, the bright lights of Neo-Gotham streaking past, and Dana chokes on her own breath as she tries to think. What can she do? What can she do? She twists so she’s holding onto Batman with one arm and looks around desperately. Everything’s going by so fast, too fast, she can’t see a thing. Dana reaches out blindly and tries to push herself through the air. She sees the lights of a building coming closer and reaches out desperately because how long do they have until they hit the ground?

Her hand smacks against concrete and bounces off, the palm coming away scraped and swelling, but she tries again. Dana reaches out and snags onto a window ledge, the force of stopping nearly yanking her arm out of its socket, and her grip slips again. They tumble a few more feet before she’s able to get hold of something solid. She winces as the pain in her hand flares, and she stops for a moment to catch her breath. They made it. 

Dana closes her eyes and lets herself relax a bit. She’s so tired. Her arms ache, she’s bruised and scraped, and she’s sweating like a pig, but she’s alive. They’re alive. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself, and hauls herself further onto the ledge, lugging Batman behind her. It hurts. He’s heavy and she’s not an athlete, not even close. Her muscles strain and burn, her hand starts to slip on the fabric of Batman’s suit, and her nails scrape against concrete, but she manages to get the two of them onto the ledge. 

Dana gasps and gulps and collapses back against the wall, chest heaving. Batman’s still knocked out, his head lolling to one side, but she doesn’t pay him much attention. Her head hurts and her limbs feel like lead and it’s so damn hard to focus. Dana sighs and watches her breath puff out in a cloud of steam. She laughs breathily and lets exhaustion have its way. Her eyes slide shut, and the calm darkness sinks in.

Gotham’s lights look so beautiful at night.

***

Dana floats in and out of consciousness. She’s somewhere cold and quiet, and there are voices.

I know it was a dumb idea but what the hell was I supposed to do?

Leave her behind. She’s a civilian, no matter how much you like her you can’t let personal ties get in your way.

But she saved my life tonight! This is like, what, the billionth time?

Third, and maybe you wouldn’t have been so distracted if she wasn’t there. You let those thugs get the drop on you.

Oh right, like that was her fault.

You need to focus on the mission Terry.

What mission?

She’s somewhere warm and soft, the dull hum of an engine surrounding her.

Think she’ll be alright? I mean, what am I going to say to her dad? I don’t think she’s visited him for like a year.

Say you two went out to go clubbing and got in a fight on the way home. That’s believable enough.

But my mom thinks I was with you the whole night.

I’m an old man, remember? It can’t be too hard to give me the slip.

Right.

She’s under a blanket, in a place that smells familiar. She’s home.

I’m sorry Mr. Tan, I did everything I could but we just barely got away.

I forgive you Terry, I’m just glad you’re both safe. I know you’re adults, but we will be talking about this in the morning. For now go get some rest and I’ll call your mother.

Thank you sir.

She wakes up the next day confused and sore, her face and hands tingling from healing meds.

“Good afternoon sleepyhead.” She sits up, rubbing her eyes groggily, and sees black hair and blue eyes.

“Terry?” He smiles, pushing off the wall near the door. “What are you doing here?” She pauses partway through pulling her blankets off. This isn’t her dorm room. Her bed is too big and there’s a dresser across the room with picture frames sitting on top. This is her dad’s house.

“Why am I here? What happened to Batman?”

“Woah woah woah. Calm down.” Terry walks over to the bed, wincing slightly when he sits down.

“Terr… are you alright?”

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine.” He gives her that strained smile, the one that shows too much teeth, the one he uses when he’s lying.

Dana sighs and moves so she can look him in the eye. “Alright, what happened?” 

Terry’s smile drops and he averts his eyes. “I, uh, kind of ditched Mr. Wayne last night. I was gonna go find you, but I ran into some Jokerz on the way over and got a bit roughed up. Nothing bad, but I couldn’t get to Cheesy Dan’s. Then…” Terry pauses for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “Then I was walking back to my mom’s house and this car drives up, real sleek, black with big jets, a custom I think. And… and Batman came out carrying you. He told me to take you somewhere safe and the first place I thought of was your house.”

Dana’s eyes bulge. “You mean my dad’s house? Terry you know I moved out for a reason.”

“What was I supposed to do? GCU is on the other side of town, I couldn’t carry you that far. Besides, do you have H628 in your bathroom cupboard? You were really banged up, Dana, you needed medical attention.”

“So? My dad’s probably going to make me stay here for a year because ‘I can’t keep myself safe.’ I’m honestly surprised he didn’t skin you alive when you showed up.”

Terry chuckles. “Yeah I thought he was going to too for a moment there. Turns out he was just glad you were alright. Well… mostly alright.”

“You didn’t tell him about, you know…”

Terry shakes his head. “I don’t know what you were doing with Batman, Babe, but I’m sure you had your reasons. I said we went clubbing and got mugged. Still going to be hell to explain that to my mom though.”

Dana laughs and pulls Terry into a hug. “I think you’re the only college kid I know who worries about a curfew, Terr.”

He holds her gently, burying his face in her shoulder. “Yeah, well… They still haven’t found Matt you know.”

“But they will.” She assures him. She stares at the shadows stretching across the carpet and smiles. “I’m sure of it.”

4.

The fourth time is the time she chooses. The fourth time is the time she’s sure.

Matt’s been missing for almost a week. No other kids have disappeared, but that makes the whole thing worse. Dana’s gone in for questioning multiple times, even though she always tells the police the same thing. Terry’s been skipping school more, coming in looking more worn out each day. She’s caught him covering up big injuries more than once, but he won’t talk to her. He hasn’t really talked much since that first day she woke up.

Dana’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel and she takes a deep breath. Batman has been on the news a few times since their night out. She knows he’s looking too, she trusts him. 

She turns onto the bridge that cuts over the river and merges into the flow of traffic. Honestly, at this point she’s not even sure whether or not there’s anything to look for. If it was a kidnapping situation, for whatever reason, a ransom would’ve been made by now, right? Dana has thought about it, she’s heard the police talking about it, she isn’t dumb. Sometimes kids just disappear and never show up again. It’s morbid, but this is Gotham. Anything can happen in Gotham.

A car honks loudly in front of Dana and she focuses back on the road. Something’s happening further down the street. She squints against the evening sun, keeping steady. It’s a cargo truck by the looks of it, swerving in and out of the lanes and banging into other cars. 

As she gets closer, pulling up just behind it, it’s side door blasts open and out comes a streak of black, as smooth and dark against the sky as ink. Batman. He’s followed by a hoard of armored goons, dressed much too familiarly for her liking. 

She sees blue outfits and glowing weapons, and for a moment she can smell the dust and smoke from the club, she can feel her heart in her throat, and hear the booming music vibrating in the air around her. Her hands shake on the wheel, and she blinks rapidly, trying to dissipate the memories of darkness and fear and focus on the moment at hand. She’d done scarier things since. The nightclub didn’t matter.

Batman is hanging off one side of the truck, something wrapped tightly in his arms. When he jumps to dodge a shot from one of the goons, Dana realizes with a start that it’s a child. It’s Matt.

Batman barely manages to dodge a second blast, sending himself careening further down the street. He curls protectively around Matt, landing roughly on the road and rolling a few feet before coming to a stop. 

The other cars have slowed or stopped further back on the bridge, and Dana wonders for a moment why she didn’t. 

The cargo truck begins to drive faster as Batman struggles to get to his feet and… No. No. Dana won’t let this happen, those dregs are not going to run them over.

She doesn’t think for more than a moment. Her foot slams down on the gas and she hurtles past the truck, sliding to a halt next to Batman.

“Get in.” She says, with much more authority than she expected. Batman jumps into the passenger seat with Matt in his lap and Dana floors it. She’s never been more angry and terrified at the same time.

The truck follows after them and she can hear the shouts of the goons and the purr of the electric engine.

She takes a cursory glance over at Matt. He doesn’t seem hurt, but he’s huddling into Batman, which isn’t a good sign. They hurtle off the highway and jolt when the car touches the ground for a moment. Dana swerves around a minivan and a hoard of honking cars.

“Take the next left,” Batman hisses, “they’re gaining on us.”

“Can do.” Dana puts on a small burst of speed and takes a sharp turn, entering a side alley. It’s narrow, her car crashing into trash receptacles and scraping against the walls. They emerge onto a busy street, Dana veering out of the way of an oncoming semi and into another lane, taking off with the rest of traffic. Batman looks behind them again and relaxes.

“I don’t think they followed us.”

Dana nods but doesn’t slow down, cutting between two cars and taking a turn towards the residential district. Batman doesn’t stop her, just settles back and closes his eyes.

They drive for a few minutes before Dana breaks the silence. “Matt, are you okay?”

“I wanna go home.” He says. It’s muffled, groggy, but she still hears it. She gives a nervous look to Batman and keeps driving.

They pull up to the McGinnises’ apartment and Dana leads Matt up to their floor. He’s out of it, recovering from some kind of knockout drug, but he makes it up the stairs alright. Dana knocks, Mary opens the door, and the woman bursts into tears.

Terry rushes in after about half an hour and pulls Matt into a big hug. Dana stays the rest of the night, talking to police, to Mary, giving her story. Terry pulls her into his room around midnight and they just sit by his window and hold hands. He massages her knuckles and asks if she’s okay and she leans against his shoulder and says that she is.

But in all the commotion she doesn’t get to talk to Batman, she doesn’t get to ask what happened. 

But Matt is safe, Matt is home, and in the end that’s all that really matters.

5.

The fifth time is the very next night. The fifth time she almost doesn’t.

Dana looks at herself in the mirror. She’s a little worse for wear, the bags under her eyes more pronounced, a few bruises still healing on her arms and shoulders.

Her dad had asked her to house sit while he was away on a business trip and she had agreed, if reluctantly. It’s weird to be back at the house. She hadn’t moved out under the best of circumstances, but the space still feels familiar and comfortable.

Matt had talked to the police that morning. She wasn’t there for it, but Terry had called her when he got the details and the things he’d said made Dana’s stomach churn.

Some guy had grabbed Matt in the bathroom and knocked him out, and when he woke up he was in a cell. He told the police the people didn’t want to hurt him, that they kept telling him he was only bait for Terry, but that didn’t make things better.

Every few days they moved Matt to a new location. He said they’d knock him out with a cloth, chloroform most likely, and he’d wake up in a different room with a different group of people. It was only Batman’s intervention on the truck that had stopped them from moving him again.

He said the goons talked about their boss a lot, apparently they were who ordered the whole thing, but he never saw who they were and the police were still on the hunt.

Dana’s stomach twists. She doesn’t want to think about why someone would want to get to Terry through Matt, because it makes her think about other things. The injuries, the lying, the disappearances. Maybe Terry is involved in some kind of gang after all. It would explain everything else.

She continues with her evening routine, brushing her teeth and washing her face, her thoughts running wild in the background. When she goes to dry off her face she presses her cheeks into the towel and takes a deep breath. It’s soft and warm and she feels on the verge of crying.

What is Terry doing with his life?

Dana finishes up in the bathroom and slips on her nightgown, walking quietly to her bed. She might be alone, but she doesn’t want to be loud. She doesn’t have the energy to be loud.

She grabs the edge of her comforter and slips underneath. It takes awhile to fall asleep, her thoughts keeping her mind awake, but she gets there eventually. She lets her mind relax, lets the weight and warmth of the covers surround her, and finally sleeps.

***

A loud crash jolts Dana awake. She sits up, looking around wildly, her fingers clutching tightly against her sheets. The window is shattered and the curtains are whipping about wildly in the wind. She yanks the blanket off of herself and stumbles to her feet, pulling on a pair of slippers.

“Hello? Is someone there?” She makes her way cautiously towards the window, expecting at any moment to be jumped by a burglar.

But there’s nothing.

The room is quiet except for her own, loud breathing.

Except… it isn’t just her breathing.

The sound is ragged and wet, interspersed with coughs and Dana turns sharply to find a crumpled shape lying near the stairs. Dark liquid is smeared in a streak across her carpet, joining the puddle seeping into the fabric closer to the body.

Dana is at his side in a heartbeat, because she knows who this is, she can see the ears and the smooth blackness of the uniform. She rolls him over and pales at the large gash in Batman’s side. It’s messy, bits of his suit sticking out at odd angles, frayed and twisted, the wound itself a mess of blood and tissue.

Batman’s breathing is slow and he reaches out to grab her arm, his mouth trying to form words, his face screwed up in concentration. He manages to say her name and give a strained attempt at a smile before a thick line of blood dribbles over his lips and his head lolls back. 

Dana slips into a panic.

“Batman? Hey, open your eyes, come on! Please don’t die, not like this, you can’t!” She doesn’t know much about medicine or wounds, but this is too much blood, way too much blood, for a person to be losing. She starts breathing too fast, her chest tightening as she squeezes Batman’s hand.

“I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what you—what you want me to do! Please you can’t just—I don’t—tell me what to do!” She chokes out.

“Hello, can you hear me?” A voice crackles to life, deep and rough and oddly modulated.

“I— who’s there?” She looks around, blinking rapidly before realizing it’s coming from Batman’s cowl. 

“Who am I talking to?” The voice asks, the audio quality fluctuating like a fuzzy radio.

“My name is Dana.”

“Where are you Dana?”

“Why do you need to know? Who are you?”

“A friend. I want to help but you need to listen to me. Can you do that?”

“I—yeah I can, I can do that.”

“Good. Where are you?”

“My house, 326 Eastside.”

“Is Batman awake?”

“No… no he passed out about a minute ago.” 

“Is he still breathing?”

Dana leans over to check, her heart hammering in her throat. The rise and fall of his chest is so faint, so slow, but it fills her with relief.

“Yes, he’s—yes but barely. He’s losing blood fast.” She keeps tripping over her own words. Her skin is humming with adrenaline and her tongue feels heavy and slow.

“Alright. I need you to listen to me very carefully. I need you to breathe.”

Dana takes a deep breath and steels herself. “Ok.”

“I’ve unlocked the belt for you, there should be a pack of medical capsules in the sixth compartment left from the buckle. Can you get them?”

Dana gives a small noise of confirmation. She counts along the belt, then counts again, shaking her head as she tries to focus. Her hands are unsteady as she unclicks the compartment and lets a few oblong, white, capsules roll onto her palm.

“I have them. What now?”

“Crush them and hold the powder to the wound. Wait until it foams and then let go.”

“O—okay. Okay.” She follows the voice’s instructions, cringing as warm blood runs over her fingers. After a moment, the foam spreads over the wound, stopping the blood flow.

“It worked.” She says, her voice breathless and relieved.

“Good. I’ve sent the Batmobile to you. Once it gets there, put him in the cockpit and press the center button on his belt. That will send him back to me where he can get proper medical attention. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Okay.” Dana’s voice is so quiet. 

“The car should come up by your window. You’ll need to get him there. Be careful, the wound is still—” There’s a burst of static and the line cuts out. Dana takes a deep, shuddering breath and tightens her hold on Batman’s hand. 

“Hello?” She tries. There’s no response. She looks briefly at the ceiling and tries to compose herself, but tears slip down her cheeks quick and smooth. She tastes the salt on her lips.

“Hello? Are you there?” She tries again. Silence.

Dana nods to herself, laughing ruefully and closes her eyes.

And then she waits. 

The voice doesn’t come back. The only sound is that of the breeze coming through the broken window. Whenever Dana shifts, her knees dig into the damp carpet, red staining her shins and ankles. 

She doesn’t want to open her eyes. She doesn’t want to see the dying man lying on her bedroom floor. Batman already looked so tired, and his breaths have only gotten quieter. She doesn’t want to look at him yet. She doesn’t want to open her eyes and see that the dying man has died. She doesn’t want to see that the hero has fallen. 

She hopes he’ll be alright.

After what feels like forever, she hears the hiss of a hover engine. She opens her eyes and tries to avoid looking at Batman as she drags him to the window. She kicks out a few more pieces of glass so she can get him through before lowering him as gently as possible into the batmobile. At least she can’t see the blood in the red lighting of the car. 

Dana chances a look at Batman before she presses his belt. His eyes have drooped closed, every muscle in his face slack and relaxed. He almost looks like Terry does when he sleeps. 

But that thought makes it worse, because suddenly it’s Terry sitting there, bleeding all over the fancy leather seats, inches from death. Because suddenly she thinks about finding him in some alleyway or parking lot, pale and cold and stiff in the wake of a gang fight. She sees him in that moment, and the next she’s stumbling back, her whole body shaking like a leaf, and the car is flying away in a blast of hot air.

Dana sits on the floor of her room, tiny bits of glass pricking into her palms, and stares after the Batmobile. She gulps in breaths of air and feels her tears dripping off the tip of her nose and the side of her jaw and her chin. She tries to rid the sight of blood from her mind’s eye and stares at the blackness outside the window.

The blackness that had swallowed the black car and the black bat and that was filling her room with black shadows.

You can’t see the stars in Neo Gotham, and Dana has never been more acutely aware of that fact until this very moment.

She sits and stares until the tears have become sticky tracks on her cheeks and the blood has gummed up the space between her fingers and toes.

Dana gets unsteadily to her feet, takes one last look out the window, and wipes her hands on her nightgown.

Her bathroom light flicks on and the water runs red into the sink and she looks at the girl in the mirror. The girl who had saved Batman.

+1.

The last time is on a sunny Friday in April, just after school, a two months after the night in her bedroom.

“Dana! Hey, wait up!” Terry jogs up next to her and slips a hand around her waist. It’s a welcome touch, seeing as he’s only been out of the hospital for a few weeks.

“Hey yourself. I thought you weren’t supposed to be back at school yet, Mr. recovering from a dog attack.”

“Yeah well,” Terry presses a kiss to the top of her head, “I just couldn’t bare to sacrifice my education.”

Dana laughs. “Yeah right. Like you actually want to listen to Mr. Eiten talk about the science of concrete for an hour.”

Terry chuckles. “You got me there.” He pulls away and laces their fingers together. They walk in comfortable silence and Dana is the most relaxed she’s been in months.

Batman is still alive. She had been worried when he wasn’t sighted for a few weeks after the night in her room, but he popped up here and there after a while. She doesn’t know what happened and she’s not sure she wants to know. She nearly had someone die in her arms, she had fallen off a building and been in a car chase and beaten up gangsters. The police still don’t know who kidnapped Matt, she still doesn’t know why Terry was getting hurt, and she still doesn’t want to think about it. 

She just wants to be here and now, to walk with Terry and feel his hand in hers and not worry about anything else.

Is that so much to ask?

Dana squeezes Terry’s hand and looks up at him. He glances over and smiles warmly, rubbing her hand with his thumb.

Is it so much to ask to be comfortable and happy and normal?

An old car squeals to a halt next to them, the doors open, and in the next second Dana is being yanked up into thick gray arms.

Terry tries to grab her back but he’s knocked to one side by a knotted hand the size of a tire. Dana writhes and screams and she can feel laughter brushing against the top of her head, deep laughter, a voice she remembers.

Charles “Big Time” Bigelow wraps one hand around her throat, each of his fingers thicker than her arm, and begins to squeeze. He smells like burnt rubber and stale chemicals but all Dana can focus on is the air being pushed out of her lungs.

In the next moment there’s a blur of movement and Bigelow stumbles with a grunt. Then two more accompanied by the sound of quick punches. He lets go of Dana and she lands in someone else’s arms before being set gently on the pavement.

She catches her breath, coughing and gasping before she looks up and loses it all over again.

Terry is fighting Big Time. And he’s winning. He moves faster than she’s ever seen him move, vaulting off of street lights and Big Time himself, landing punches and kicks in quick succession. 

Dana can’t believe her eyes. She just watches, completely dumbstruck. 

Terry punches Big Time twice in the jaw as he soars over him. He lands on the car and pushes off, using his momentum to flip Big Time onto his side with a loud thump. Big Time lets out a grunt and goes limp, eyes fluttering shut. Terry steps back, chest heaving, nostrils flaring, and glances up. Their eyes meet and Terry freezes. 

One second. 

The fighting. 

Two seconds. 

The injuries. 

Three seconds. 

You need to focus on the mission Terry.

They’re the same. They’re the same person. 

Terry is Batman.

***

She helps haul Big Time into the back of the car after Terry finds its keys and the two of them drive in silence to the GCPD. The engine sputters and the seats are worn out but it’s fine. Terry calls ahead to the precinct. 

They don’t look at each other once.

Commissioner Gordon meets them outside with a squad to get Big Time properly restrained and then leads them inside. She tells Dana to stay in the waiting room while she talks to Terry but Dana excuses herself after a few minutes. 

She finds a bench out front and sits down. The air is warm and fresh. It smells like hover fuel and the stream of cars passing by the precinct is slowing as the last stragglers from rush hour finally make their way home. 

Dana reaches up to rub the sore area around her neck. The bruising has set in and she knows she’s going to be feeling it more in the next few hours. She swallows thickly around the ball of stress in her throat, feeling it squeeze in response, tight and hot, like every breath is the line between her and a breakdown.

Dana drops her hand back down and sighs, leaning further back into the bench. What a way to end the day. She’d been relaxed, she’d been happy, and something just had to ruin it. Her jaw is clenched and the muscles all along her arms and legs are taught. Her eyes are warm with barely restrained tears but she doesn’t know why.

She doesn’t have a problem with Terry being Batman, she liked both of them to begin with, and it’s not like she’s adverse to stress or danger, the last few months alone prove that. So maybe it’s the fact that they aren’t separate anymore.

Terry isn’t normal and safe, Batman isn’t a faceless person she can detach herself from when things get too stressful, they’re one in the same now. Sure, she’d bonded with Batman and seen Terry get out of bad situations, but the two still didn’t cross over for her. Terry was Terry and Batman was Batman.

Looking back she can see the signs though. Familiar things she noticed about Batman when they talked, or Terry showing up when Batman left and vice versa. Not that it makes it any easier to understand, it just makes her head hurt.

Dana hears the precinct door open and shut with a soft click.

“Hey.” Terry sits down next to her, “Didn’t know where you went for a minute there.”

Dana hums slightly in acknowledgement, her fingers tapping nervously against her knee.

“Babe… you okay? We can go see a doctor if you want, see about those bruises.”

Dana nods gently and takes a deep breath.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Terry smiles nervously. “What do you mean?”

“That you’re Batman, Terr.”

He stiffens before his shoulders sag and he lets out a long breath. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Were you going to tell me at all?”

“I was, I just thought—“

“I mean this has been going on for years right? How long did you think you could keep this from me?”

“Dana—“

“I almost saw you die, Terry, you were bleeding all over my carpet! I thought you were in a gang for heaven’s sake, I thought you were… oh my god.” The tears start to fall, small and slow, little drops sliding over her lashes and cheeks. “What if I wasn’t there to save you? What if you go after some villain next week or next month and you get slagged? How am I supposed to deal with that if you never told me?”

Terry takes her hands firmly in his and starts rubbing her fingers with the pad of his thumb. His touch is warm and careful, and Dana slowly feels herself start to calm down.

“I was going to tell you today, actually. Take you out someplace nice and talk about it over dinner. Didn’t exactly turn out that way though, huh?”

Dana chuckles softly, reaching up to wipe her face.

Terry lifts her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles. “I should’ve told you sooner, I’m so sorry Babe. You helped me out a lot with the Matt case and I should’ve trusted you more to begin with. But I’m here now, if you wanna talk or ask me stuff or just slap me in the face.”

Dana laughs a bit louder, kissing his cheek. “That’s tempting but I think you’ve been through enough.” She sits back and looks at his face. Just looks. 

He’s filled out a bit since high school, he’s broader, his hair a little longer, but he’s still the same Terry he’s always been, and he’s… Batman. Dana runs a finger along a healing scratch on his cheek.

Batman.

“Terr?”

“Yeah?”

“What… who have you been fighting?”

Terry shifts a bit, his brows drawing together. “Like recently?”

“Who’s been doing everything the past few months. The club, Matt… you know.”

Terry’s mouth makes a soft oh. “I’m not really… clear on all the details.” He says, settling back and pausing a moment before talking again. “When Matt first disappeared I couldn’t find anything. No one had seen him and no one had a grudge against me. Terry me. After we got attacked that night on the roof, Wayne smelled something rotten, so I used some of my connections in the underground to ask around. Found out it’s a new gang, call themselves the Riders. They’ve been given a bunch of high tech weapons, real schway shit, expensive. The old man thinks it might be prototype stuff from Luthor Enterprises, but we don’t know yet. So, I went after them. People told me where their base was, and I went, and… next thing I know they’ve slashed me open like a thanksgiving turkey. I should’ve known better. I couldn’t take them alone the first time, don’t know why I thought it would be different.”

Dana squeezes his hand a bit tighter.

“I knew their leader had something against Terry McGinnis, since they attacked me once and then kidnapped my family, but I didn’t know who it was,” Terry takes a deep breath, “until now.”

“Big Time?”

He nods. “We’ll know after the interrogation, but I think my original hunch was spot on. We didn’t exactly leave off on the best of terms. I was the reason Charlie’s gang gig got slagged, and knowing him, he’s sure to carry a grudge. Plus, I’m looking into a possible cover up by Luthor Enterprises. A few shipments went missing in September, right around when Charlie would have had to start putting the gang together, which accounts for the weapons.”

“So kidnapping Matt, going after Batman, going after me, it was all to hurt you?”

Terry smiles awkwardly. “Pretty screwed up huh?”

Dana nods, averting her eyes. She’d forgotten for a moment. She had looked at Terry and it had slipped her mind for just a second that things had changed. 

Dana rubs her throat again and remembers the way he fought, the way he moved. She remembers all the times he had to ditch dates and outings, the times in high school where he fell asleep during class. She remembers the weight of the body as she lowered Batman into his seat, red melting into red. 

That was Terry. 

Dana reaches out to hold his hand and takes a deep breath.

“What now?” She asks.

Terry smiles, his eyes soft, his dimples poking into his cheeks, and helps her to her feet.

“Burgers?”

Dana laughs, her voice a bit hoarse, and kisses his cheek.

“Only if I get to see the Batcave.”

“Yeah yeah.” Terry swings their arms back and forth as they start off down the sidewalk.

“I love you, by the way. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah Terr. I love you too.”

Dana had forgotten, but the moment has passed and it doesn’t matter. Terry is still the same person she’s always known. They’d gone through rough patches but he always worked to make things better. Now she knows he does that for the whole city.

So Dana is content, content with talking, content with waiting, content with seeing what the future holds, seeing what lies beyond.

[fandomgarbitch]

One Kiss (Ethan Dolan)

Most girls would describe Ethan Dolan as irresistible, charming, and the dream boyfriend. Me? I would describe Ethan Dolan as repulsive, egotistical, and probably the most annoying human being on the face of this earth. I know what you’re thinking, if you hate him so much why don’t you just stay away from him. I would except for the fact that he is my bestfriends twin brother. 

Grayson Dolan and I have been bestfriends since the good ole elementary school days. Believe it or not I used to be friends with Ethan too. That was until he dated Meredith. She changed him. He was no longer the cool down to earth guy he once was, instead he was this jerk who was so full of himself it was impossible to be around him now. Meredith ended up cheating on him, but Ethan only got worse. He was only capable of caring about one person. Ethan. 

“Grayson, I’m here.” I called as I walked in their luxurious home. 

Ethan sat playing fortnite on the xbox. I rolled my eyes as he noticed my presence. 

“wow did you miss me that much already?” Ethan smirked not looking away from the television. 

“as if.” I scoffed rolling my eyes. 

“keep rolling your eyes baby maybe you’ll find a brain back there.” Ethan joked. 

I could feel the steam coming from my ears. 

“you know Ethan being a dick won't make yours any bigger.” I smirked. 

Ethan stopped playing, putting his controller down before standing up to face me. 

“oh trust me it’s plenty big. I could show you sometime.” Ethan said smirking back. 

Ethan could push my buttons like nobody else could. 

“It’s really too bad your dick isn’t anywhere near as big as your head.” I snapped back. 

“oh babe in order for me to be insulted I’d actually have to value your opinion.” Ethan said putting a hand on my shoulder. 

I quickly shook it off. 

“wow Ethan, it must be difficult, exhausting all of your vocabulary in one sentence.” I glared, putting my hands on my hips.

Ethan let out a hearty laugh.

“how about we skip the fighting and just get to the makeup sex.” Ethan said smirking again. 

I was about to respond when Grayson walked out of his room. 

“I see you two getting along again.” Grayson said rolling his eyes at our bickering. 

“oh we’re getting along quite nicely aren’t we baby?” Ethan asked smirking at me.

“you must’ve been born on the highway, that’s where most accidents happen.” I said causing Grayson to bust out laughing.

“uh Grayson you do realize we’re twins who were born at the same time, so if she’s saying that to me technically she is saying it to you too.” Ethan said causing Grayson to stop laughing.

“ouch.” He whined looking at me.  

I laughed a little at the little pout on Grayson’s lips. 

“let’s go to breakfast, I’m starving!” I said clapping my hands.

“can I come?” Ethan asked. 

“NO!” Grayson and I yelled at the same time. 

Grayson and I went to breakfast every friday morning, it was like the best friend tradition that we had. Ethan sighed watching Grayson and I walk out the door. 

“how are you guys twins? He’s so frustrating!” I said throwing my hands up in exhaustion. 

Grayson laughed as he started up the car.

“you know he only teases you now because he knows how much it bothers you.” Grayson said pulling out of the driveway. 

“so I’m not supposed to respond to his ridiculous comments?” I asked giving Grayson a look.

“exactly, and he’ll stop.” Grayson said. 

Grayson and I looked at each other before busting up laughing.

“yeah that’ll never happen.” He said making me agree with him. 

Grayson pulled up to the restaurant and we ordered our usual, pancakes topped with fruit. 

“so how was your date with Thomas?” Grayson asked cutting in to his stack of pancakes. 

“ugh horrible, I think I’m destined to be alone forever.” I groaned resting my head on my hand. 

“forever? I don’t think so.” Grayson said. 

“seriously I’m going to be a lonely old cat lady.” I said laughing. 

“oh come on, if a guy doesn’t want you, don’t force a cat to be with you.” Grayson said making me choke on my bite of pancake. 

“you asshole.” I laughed throwing a blueberry at him. 

Grayson picked up the blueberry throwing it back at me. Grayson and I were laughing when we were interrupted by a girl standing in front of us. 

“uh Grayson?” She asked looking at us. 

“uh hi, do I know you?” Grayson asked rubbing his neck nervously. 

I looked at the girl, she was gorgeous, I looked down at myself feeling insecure. 

“I’m Kira, Ethan was supposed to call me uh do you know what happened to him?” She asked a blush spreading to her cheeks. 

I felt bad for the girl, she seemed sweet. 

“uh..” Grayson started but I cut him off. 

“Kira, you seem like a sweet girl, so I honestly would stay away from Ethan.” I said taking a bit of my pancake. 

“excuse me?” She asked confused. 

“Ethan doesn’t care about anyone but himself, he certainly doesn’t care about you and honestly, you are way to good for him anyways. If I were you I would text him to go screw himself and find a guy that is actually going to appreciate you, because that guy certainly is not Ethan Dolan.” I said staring at the girl. 

“uh okay.” She said walking away confused. 

“well that was a little harsh.” Grayson said looking at me. 

“it was the truth wasn’t it?” I asked huffing. 

“well yeah but you could’ve said it in a nicer way.” Grayson said. 

“maybe you’re just too nice, that’s why Ethan walks all over you.” I said biting in to my fruit. 

“he does not walk all over me!” Grayson said getting defensive. 

“hate to break it to you G, but he kind of does.” I said taking another bite of my pancake. 

“well not anymore.” Grayson said finishing his pancake. 

Grayson didn’t say anything as he paid our bill and then stopped picking up two of our other friends Bryant and David. 

“what’s up G,” David said getting in the car. 

“Ethan doesn’t walk all over me does he?” Grayson said as they got in the car. 

David and Bryant stayed quiet looking at each other and then me. I started to laugh making Grayson even angrier. 

“relax G, just don’t let him do it anymore.” Bryant said making Grayson calm down. 

As soon as we got back to the Dolan’s house we went inside and crashed on the big purple sofa.

“I’m having a party tonight, you guys in?” David asked. 

“you know I’m always down for a party.” I answered. 

“yeah I can make it.” Bryant said giving me a high-five.

“I don’t know man, I’m not in a party mood.” Grayson said. 

“he’ll be there.” I answered David. 

David was about to say something when Ethan came storming in the house. 

“what the fuck did you do?” Ethan asked coming to stand in front of me. 

“who do you think you’re talking to?” I sassed standing up to face Ethan.

“someone who needs to learn to keep her mouth shut.” He said getting in my face.

“look I have no idea what you’re talking about now how about you get out of my face.” I said shoving Ethan back a little bit. 

“does the name Kira ring a bell?” Ethan growled. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I said playing dumb.

“Oh yeah that’s funny because she said that a girl with my brother told her to text me screw you and go find another guy.” Ethan seethed.

“Grayson has a lot of girls around him you can’t prove it was me.” I said sticking my tongue out at him. 

“look just because your jealous that I don’t like you...” Ethan started but I quickly cut him off.

“woah woah woah I love to shop, but you couldn’t pay me to buy the bullshit you’re selling.” I said to Ethan.

“wow if you were anymore of a bitch you could have puppies.” Ethan said 

“at least then you wouldn’t be the only dog in the room.” I quickly shot back. 

“GUYS STOP” Grayson yelled. 

“looked I’ll see you guys at the party tonight I’m serious going to lose brain cells if I stay here any longer.” I said waving goodbye to Grayson, David, and Bryant before walking towards the door.

“don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” Ethan laughed.

I turned around giving him the middle finger. 

“love you too.” He said. 

ETHAN POINT OF VIEW

I sat down on the couch running a hand through my hair. 

“so did Kira dump your dumbass?” Bryant asked. 

“it doesn’t even matter I have like a million other girls who want me.” I said pulling out my phone. 

“except for Y/N she hates your guts.” Grayson said laughing. 

“please all it would take is one kiss to have her falling in love with me. I just like to mess with her.” I said texting a girl Bella about the party tonight. 

“I don’t know man I don’t think you could.” David said looking at me.

“I don’t either she hates you.” Bryant laughed. 

I quickly put down my phone smirking at the guys. 

“shall we make this interesting?” I said still smirking. 

“what are you thinking?” Grayson asked me. 

“a hundred bucks from each of you if in a week I can get her to admit she loves me.” I said holding my hand out for them to shake.

“well she’s my bestfriend and I know for a fact she won’t go for you so deal.” Grayson said shaking my hand. 

“deal.” Bryant said doing the same.

“isn’t this kind of mean of us?” David asked.

“so you think I can do it huh?” I smirked.

“no way man, deal.” David said shaking my hand.

“one week.” Grayson said holding up one finger.

“well then I better get ready for this party then.” I smirked walking in to my room.

READER POINT OF VIEW

I seriously hated Ethan Dolan like for real where does he get off? Our fighting didn’t use to be this bad but for some reason we hate each other more now then ever before. I was worried that Grayson was going to get sick of it and cut me out of his life. Ethan was his twin and even though they didn’t get along that well either a brother always trumps a bestfriend. 

“ethan dolan you will not ruin my night.” I said as I brushed the last bit of makeup on my face. 

I was cut out of my routine when my phone started ringing. 

“where the hell are you? you know I’m awkward at parties.” Grayson said on the end of the line.

“ha, don’t worry G, I’m on my way.” I said before hanging up the phone.

I grabbed my keys before walking to the car. 

“ethan dolan you will not ruin my night.” I said once more as I backed out of the driveway.

I could see the strobe lights and hear the music blaring as I pulled up to David’s place. I quickly parked and got out to find Grayson. He wasn’t as much in to parties as the rest of us were. 

“thank gosh you’re here.” He said finding me in the crowd.

“geez G just relax, have a drink.” I said grabbing two beers one for him and myself. (don’t drink underage children it is frowned upon by society) 

Gray loosened up after downing a beer and then he drank another and then another. 

“okay Gray I said relax don’t give yourself alcohol poisoning.” I said taking the sixth beer out of his hand. 

“then you drink it cause you need to lighten up.” Grayson slurred pinching my cheek. 

I rolled my eyes as he walked through the crowd grabbing another beer on his way through. I shrugged before downing the beer. 

“you look like you could use another.” Some random guy said handing me a beer. 

I gladly accepted before downing that one too. He handed me another. 

ETHAN POINT OF VIEW

I was swaying to music, cup in hand while Bella kissed all over my neck. God this girl is needy. 

“I’m going to refill my drink I’ll be right back.” I said pushing her off of me. 

I walked over to the drink table scanning my eyes around the room. Grayson was passed out on the couch. I laughed shaking my head as Lucid Dreams blasted through the house. I looked over and saw Y/N dancing with some guy I had never seen before. He was getting pretty handsy as he grabbed her another beer. I decided to walk a little closer to them.

“come on baby you’ve had enough beers how about we go upstairs now.” The guy said to her. 

wow, I’m an asshole but even I wouldn’t stoop that low. I knew I had to do something or else this could be bad. 

“I want to dance.” she whined making me chuckle. 

“come on baby let’s go.” He said grabbing her arm a little more aggressively. 

“no.” She said continuing to dance.

“come on please.” He said pulling her towards the stairs. 

I quickly grabbed his hand taking it off her arm.

“she said no, no means no, do you need to hear it Spanish? NO, N-O get it got it good.” I said pushing the dude back. 

He was clearly fully in control of himself and was just trying to get laid from a trashed girl. 

“what are you her boyfriend?” He scoffed. 

“nah, but she’s important to my family, so she’s kind of important to me.” I said. 

“whatever bro, she doesn’t put out anyways.” He scoffed walking away.

“you're a terrible person.” I called watching him walkaway. 

I turned around to see her still dancing. I laughed at how trashed she was. 

“Y/N come on I need to get you home.” I said grabbing her arms.

“Ethan, where have you been I missed you.” She said hugging me.

Now I know she was really trashed to say she missed me.

“I am here now, let’s go home.” I said picking her up bridal style. 

“okay babe.” she said making me laugh. 

I heard me name being called making me turn around. I rolled my eyes seeing it was Bella.

“what are you doing?” She said gesturing to Y/N in my arms. 

“taking her home she’s trashed and kind of important to me.” I said. 

“well how am I supposed to get home?” she complained putting her hands on her hips. 

I quickly scanned the room. 

“you see that guy passed out on the couch? he’s my brother in his pocket is twenty dollars take it and call a cab.” I told her before walking away. 

“you asshole.” She called after me. 

“you’re not an asshole you’re a really good person.” Y/N said looking at me.

I laughed shaking my head. 

“you would not be saying that if you were not incredibly drunk right now.” I said placing her in my front seat and buckling her in.

“Ethan wait.” She said grabbing my hand.

I looked at her waiting for her to respond. 

“you’re kind of sexy do you know that” She said gazing up at me. 

“okay drunk girl.” I laughed.

oh, how fun will it be explaining this to her when she wakes up. 

part two coming soon

[artificialqueens]

All To Myself (Willaska) - Albatross

AN: Friends to lovers, you know the drill.

Featuring Willam and Alaska, of course.

Special thanks to @VeronicaSanders for agreeing to beta despite our disagreements regarding epithets. And thank you to @Saiph for beta-ing as well!

Going out to the club was meant to be relaxing.

It’s a chance to cut loose. It’s a chance to forget. Alaska repeated that mantra to herself every time she went out…so why didn’t she believe it?

Most likely, she figured, it had to do with whoshe was going to the club with. One Willam Belli; known party queen and spectacle all onto herself.

Everywhere she went, attention was soon on her whether she sought it out or not. She was loud and beautiful and when dropped into a setting meant to encourage random hookups? Well, she was the star attraction as soon as she arrived, usually with her best friend in tow.

Now Alaska was by no means a wallflower. She engaged in the dancing and drinking just as easily as Willam did. The difference between them lie in when it came time to take someone home with her. For Willam it was effortless, there was no lack of offers so she had her pick, though usually there weren’t many common factors.

“Whoever looks like the most fun,” she replied casually the one time Alaska dared to ask about her criteria.

Alaska, on the other hand, usually had to work for it. She got along well with most everyone. She could be quite the charmer when she wanted to be but once it came time to ask if they wanted to leave with her, more often than not they were shocked by the proposal. Her intended partner for the night hadn’t considered that she was being anything but friendly nor that she was even interested in a hookup. The women she hit on were always unbearably kind in their denial but that only served to make her feel even worse.

Often times she asked herself if there was something wrong with her flirting.

Was it just not blatant enough?

For the few times she dared to ask for an explanation for the rejection, she noticed a common theme; too innocent looking, too nice, too eager…always too something !

She was never just enough.

But she accepted the reasons with a carefree shrug and polite smile and wandered off to try her luck elsewhere. Usually by the time of the first rejection, she could pick out Willam’s intended victim for the night. True, a lot of nights Willam never actually took anyone home. Sometimes hooking up in the bathroom or alleyway doing god knows what and then returning to Alaska’s side, but that didn’t lessen the sting as she returned to Alaska’s empty side.

Alaska often spent her time just what she was doing when off with someone else. Whythose men and women could attract Willam’s attention when she couldn’t. And of course, why after so many years of being best friends she still had this hopeless crush.

Perhaps that was her real problem, Alaska thought. Maybe it was that she genuinely didn’t try hard enough because no matter who she’d take home, they just wouldn’t be the person she wanted it to be. Sure, they might have looked enough like what she wanted; dirty blonde hair wrapped into loose curls, slim and toned under flashy clothes and flashier makeup…But still, it just wasn’t the same. Maybe, just maybe, she sabotaged herself because she knew Willam was more likely to leave with her if Alaska appeared to be alone.

Not that they ever did anything together. Alaska was certain she kept her feelings well hidden around her friend. But it was still nice just to return to a near domestic atmosphere in one of their apartments after a night out partying. They’d fall asleep laughing, watching TV, or smoking some weed. It made the rejections at the club much more bearable, practically even forgettable, just to spend a night alone with her. Willam made her smile when no one else could and helped her forget about the rest of the world, even if only for a few hours.

There were a few instances, however, when Alaska didn’t need to seek out a partner for the night. Sometimes women even approached her . They were usually of a similar type and picked up on some vibe she unknowingly seemed to be putting out. That ‘too innocent’ vibe, as others had called it. These women were looking for a particular type and to them, Alaska seemed to fit the bill. They wanted someone submissive, whether it was to coddle them or completely dominate them. But always they were damn near exact opposite of the type of women Alaska usually tried to hit on.

Alaska grew to accept this fact after a while. After all, she’d get what she wanted and they’d get what they wanted. A mutually beneficial trade. Alaska was fine playing that part, though at times it did bore her. A few caught on that she was just acting out the bit for their sake, one even commented on it, but for just a one-night stand it wasn’t anything worth going into too much detail for. It would happen again in just a few months, almost like clockwork.

And tonight was no exception. Alaska picked up on the domineering gaze being sent her way almost the instant she connected eyes first with an attractive blonde from across the bar. The stranger was a good few inches shorter than Alaska, as most women were anyway, but the difference in height had no bearing on the powerful, magnetic personality that shone through with her amused grin. Wasting no time, this confident and mysterious young woman pushed her way through the sea of people until she was at Alaska’s side.

Closer to, Alaska noticed the woman’s eyes were a deep blue-green, almost like a certain pair she’d been gazing at only an hour before. Her cocky smirk seemed to be a damn near permanent fixture on her face as she carelessly tossed away the loose wavy hair that fell past her shoulders. It was a similar tactic, one Alaska had seen Willam using quite often to ensnare her partners, and like a moth to the flame, Alaska was mesmerized. Each woman worked their charm as they chatted away but they both knew it was entirely unnecessary at this point. They’d likely be leaving together very soon if either had anything to say about it. Still, a bit of social foreplay never hurt.

Though the area around the bar itself was brightly lit, the same couldn’t be said for the clustered dance floor just a few feet away. The main lights were out and heavy, flashing strobes took their place. They’d periodically illuminate the carefree faces within the crowd for just a second before shining their light elsewhere at random. It was a tangled mess of nameless people but that was all part of the fun; dancing with strangers as the bass pounded in the speakers…It was a chance to get a little closer or to disappear, if need be.

Willam was already engaged with a number of other clubbers on the dance floor but she had kept a cautious eye on Alaska at the bar. Her companion always needed a drink or two before she was ready to bury herself amongst the crowd but Willam was confident Alaska would be joining her shortly.

What she hadn’t expected was to glance over and find her chatting up another woman so eagerly nor sharing so many drinks, if the empty glasses in front of them were any indication. This woman was far from the usual type she saw Alaska with; her heavy makeup, tight, skimpy outfit and an air of confidence to the point of coming off as arrogant. Definitely not Alaska’s type and yet there they were; near ready to seal the deal and head home with one another by the looks of it.

A vaguely possessive knot formed in the pit of her stomach as she took note of the mystery woman placing her hand over Alaska’s in an attempt to show sincerity and interest. She never seemed to let her gaze roam over Alaska’s body, seemingly thinking she’d get a chance to explore those areas soon enough, but there was also something else Willam noticed.

Something that pissed her off even.

It was Alaska’s obvious infatuation with the woman. Never had Willam seen her so taken with a potential partner right off the bat. Her gaze seemed to focus only on this stranger as she kept a shy but inviting smile stretched across her lips.

Alaska was all but throwing herself at this skank!

It was clear by the interested gleam on Alaska’s face that she intended to go home with this woman as soon as the offer was made, yet the stranger was intent on drawing this out. She was practically laying the groundwork for future hookups already though they couldn’t have met more than just a few minutes ago. As Willam studied them closely, the scowl on her face darkened. Her body was still moving in time with the throng of other club patrons but her heart was certainly not into it.

One more shot was pounded down by both women and almost immediately after they were stepping away from the bar. Willam’s heart sunk with the thought that they might be leaving now but to her sick satisfaction they seemed to be heading straight for the dance floor. Once they had immersed themselves in the sea of similarly buzzed and swaying bodies, Willam saw her chance to step in.

Alaska knew Willam was somewhere in this mix of countless people. Every so often she’d catch a glimpse of her friend dancing the night away with one stranger before turning her attention to the next but as Kat led her onto the floor, Alaska hadn’t even thought to look for Willam again. Her mind was completely focused on her intended partner for tonight, so much that she willingly allowed Kat to lead her by the hand deep into the grinding and wavering mass of clubbers.

Once they were away from the well-lit bar, it was difficult to see anything clearly through the flashing lights but every so often one would shine just enough that Alaska could catch a glimpse of the slightly blurry faces around her. The pulse of the music overtook her body and soon she was dancing as enthusiastically as everyone else. She was sure she was facing Kat for the majority of the song but after a sudden turn and number of patrons shuffling past her towards the bar, Alaska was certain she had lost her in the crowd. But only a second or two after that thought came to mind, she felt a pair of firm hands on her hips encouraging her to turn around.

Rotating her body a few degrees, Alaska found herself pressed against a shorter body once again as the strobes turned their lights away towards the other side of the dance floor. The possessiveness of the hands couldn’t have belonged to anyone other than Kat so she let herself be consumed once more by the pounding music and mutual sway of their bodies on the packed floor.

She thought she saw a glimpse of Willam’s wavy hair somewhere off in the distance but all too quickly the figure slipped away before she could confirm it. Not that Willam would have any trouble finding someone to take home, she reasoned. So she might as well push that thought from her mind, at least for tonight. She finally had someone take an interest in her that almost exactly fulfilled everything she was looking for and she would be damned before letting this one slip away tonight. In fact, she ought to get things moving along before either had a chance to lose interest.

So in a decidedly bold move, Alaska pushed herself forward and captured the lips of her partner. There was a bit of a misstep at first, her lips landing slightly off point and Kat freezing in shock but within a second all was corrected and the hands on Alaska’s hips pulled her in until there wasn’t even an inch of space left between them. Her eyes slid shut as she let herself be consumed by the moment.

The kiss itself stole away any other thought of those around them. Alaska was sure they both had stopped dancing or even pretending to but if anyone else noticed…well, who cared?

Their lips pressed together was everything Alaska could have wanted. It was expressive yet still so subdued, perhaps because of still being in a public space. But they were definitely pushing the limits of decency. If anyone could have seen them, they certainly would have gotten a show. While their hands remained chaste and above their clothing, their lips slid against one another in a slightly graceless but passionate mess. If the music were just a bit lower, Alaska was sure she would have had to hide the little mewls clawing their way up through her throat. But Kat wasn’t at all bothered by it. She eagerly swallowed every bit of sound that echoed into her mouth, even returning a few of her own in the process.

Kat’s lips were eagerly chasing Alaska’s every time she pulled away, so much that Alaska gave up any pretense of trying to tease just so that could remain connected as much as possible. Vaguely she was aware that the song was coming to an end and taking that as her cue, she broke the kiss for good. As her eyes flew open, she found that the lighting patterns of the clubs had changed to match the new, slower paced song being introduced. The strobe was still flashing away but much more languidly and somewhat brighter now.

Alaska was hardly surprised to see to that same hungry look in her partner’s eyes as she had witnessed back at the bar but strangely there was also a hint of fear…Perhaps because the eyes staring back at her were distinctly Willam’s and not Kat’s.

Each felt the world go quiet as they locked gazes for a moment. Alaska was sure her cheeks were burning and under the fading purple to red lights shining above them, she’d have bet anything that Willam’s were almost as pink as her own. Neither quite knew what to say, though Willam certainly tried. Her lips moved as though she were trying to force something, anything, out, but even if there were true words being formed, Alaska wouldn’t have heard them.

As much as she feared what would happen to their friendship after sharing that kiss, there was absolutely nothing that she regretted about it, now that she knew it’d been with Willam. Her heart fluttered in her chest with that thought even though she knew she ought to have been concerned with the fact that it wasn’t with Kat as had been her original intention.

Where was she, actually? Had she seen what had happened and left?

Alaska just couldn’t find it in herself to care at the moment.

Especially since Willam gave up any pretense of trying to speak and was now turning around. Alaska was almost shouting at her to stop until she realized that Willam’s hand was wrapped around her own and was now leading them off somewhere towards the rear of the club.

Barely aware of anyone else around them, Alaska followed closely behind as Willam pushed her way to the first opening along the back wall that she found. There she turned around to face Alaska, perhaps thinking they were far enough away from the speakers to try talking about what happened, but that wasn’t how things turned out.

As quickly as the opening appeared, once the pair was nestled in facing each other, the space around them filled up once again. Willam found herself pressed against the wall as Alaska was pushed into her thanks to someone’s elbow being forced into the small of her back. She apologized for the unintentional invasion of space but she was anything but sorry for it. Not that Willam seemed to mind it either.

There was a brief pause of hesitancy before each threw aside any notion of better judgement and allowed their lips to connect once more. Hands found their way to each other’s bodies; Willam’s resting on Alaska’s waist while Alaska’s found their way Willam’s hair. For the first few minutes there was a sense of urgency, like all of this would be revealed in just a few short seconds as a dream or a joke, but once the reality truly set in, they allowed their pace to slow into something more languid and sensual. Alaska moved a hand to tuck its way beneath Willam’s chin, tilting her head up for a better angle as she crowded her even further against the wall. Her second very carefully and very slowly slipped its way under the bottom hem of Willam’s short dress. Her fingers danced along Willam’s outer thigh but she dared not press her luck any further. For now she was content with all that was happening.

Neither was quite sure how long they spent together in that embrace but as the pair finally broke apart to check the time, the club was significantly less crowded. Willam was the first to retrieve her phone from her bra and swore once she saw the clock flashing back at her. Immediately Alaska knew that would be the end of whatever this was but to her surprise, Willam pressed one final kiss to her lips before whispering that they ought to leave.

The pair’s ride back to Willam’s apartment was exceptionally quiet. There seemed to be no small talk they could make that wouldn’t eventually lead into a discussion of the kiss and neither was quite ready to address that yet. Alaska was all too eager to head back to her own dwelling after retrieving her car but Willam shocked her by asking if she wanted to stay the night. It wasn’t an uncommon offer, not by any means, but something about it just felt oddly loaded tonight. A simple nod was all she could reply with and after a brief exchange of 'good night’, each slipped into their own dream worlds on opposite ends of Willam’s bed.

The next morning they should have talked about it, should have discussed what the kiss meant for each of them, but Willam made the independent decision to simply play it off as a product of their drinking. She teased Alaska for getting so shit-faced that she’d be willing to kiss her but Alaska’s stomach flipped and twisted with every reminder. Despite Willam’s assumptions; the enthusiasm from their second kiss that night was strictly because it was Willam , not that Alaska had mistaken her for anyone else. But Alaska was sickly grateful at having been provided with an easy, less embarrassing way out of this whole mess. She laughed off the situation much as Willam was yet in the back of her mind, memories of that kiss still lingered. But as much as she adored her friend and loved every second of that night, receiving confirmation that their kiss meant nothing would have broken her heart. She was happy just to have the experience as a fond memory rather than a painful reminder that nothing more would happen between them.

The night replayed itself in her mind more often than she cared to admit and all too frequently she imagined what it would have been like to push the boundaries even further. A part of her regretted not attempting it, if only to see how Willam would have responded, but she was sure if she had, then Willam would have ended the kiss much sooner. Still, it was her imagination and she was free to play out any scenario she liked. Though with each detail being added her guilt seemed to compound over thinking about her best friend in such a manner. Still, she felt powerless to stop it and quickly enough her fantasy world had been built up considerably.

'Might as well relive the kiss through daydreaming,’ she thought.

She was absolutely sure nothing like that would ever happen again.

Yet in just three weeks time she found herself pressed firmly between Willam’s body and her mattress. The pair had gone out again as they usually did every weekend and proceeded to drink throughout the night. This time it was odd though; neither seemed to have any interest in finding another companion to take home. They were both content to spend their evening in each other’s company and never strayed more than a few feet from one another, though quite a few did try to separate them.

Whether it was an offer of drinks or cutting in for a dance, a few of the clubbers tried their luck to pull away one of the women from the other but always after a few minutes they would return to each other’s side. Willam especially received quite a bit of this attention. She’d accept the drinks or invitation to dance with a flirty little smile but before long she’d find her way back to Alaska. Typically this was accompanied by wandering hands traveling up and down Alaska’s midsection, especially as the night wore on and her BAC rose. Not the Alaska was any more well behaved herself.

She received more than her fair share of drink offers and was soon well on her way to being as tipsy as Willam already was. Though her behavior was not quite as messy, she certainly did nothing to discourage the roaming hands. Every now and then she’d even pull her friend a little closer until their bodies were all but touching as her arms wrapped possessively around Willam’s swaying figure.

Before long the hours slipped into early morning and the girls were ready to head home for the night. Once in the backseat of the Uber it felt like all the tension they had built up throughout the evening finally broke free. With nothing left to stop them, their lips found their way to another as they rode in the backseat of the car. Hands grazed over every inch of bare skin they could reach as the pair were driven home. To his credit, the driver did his best to ignore the pair making out until they had arrived back at Alaska’s apartment complex.

Following a quick word of gratitude, the pair made their way upstairs and promptly collapsed onto Alaska’s bed in a tangled heap of limbs and ruffled clothes. There was a fiery, desperate sort of messiness to the kiss, like neither wanted to separate themselves from the other for anything short of Armageddon. Fingers wove through one another’s hair and clothing rode up far further than they should have allowed. The straps of Willam’s dress had fallen a long time ago but even still Alaska couldn’t bring herself to push away the fabric any more than how it naturally fell from Willam’s body.

At some point the pair did slow down, whether it was after Willam slipped her leg between Alaska’s or when Alaska’s hand found its way to Willam’s ass in a halfhearted attempt to pull her body closer, it was hard to say. The pair allowed their lips to travel up and down one another’s skin but neither quite dared to go any further below the collarbone. Not that that really stopped Willam from sucking a bright pink mark into Alaska’s pale skin after hearing the younger woman gasping out her name in shock.

Alaska was left squirming and aching beneath the actions but she just couldn’t force herself to beg for anything more. She wanted to. She knew she wanted to. But there was a little voice in the back of her mind screaming at her to stop before things had gone too far. Almost as if Willam had heard that voice herself, or perhaps just listening to her own, she pulled away with a guilty expression.

The fingers that had been clutched around the fabric of Alaska’s clothes flexed in uncertainty, as if she were telling herself that she needed to let go, to move away, but still unable to convince her body to follow through. Her eyes darted over every inch of Alaska’s form beneath her; from her heaving chest, flushed cheeks, swollen lips and finally her hazy, glazed over eyes. A wave of guilt washed through her at the sight and with a heavy air of regret, she murmured, “We…we need to…”

Already knowing what Willam getting at, Alaska bit back a tone of reluctance in her voice as she asked, “Should we stop?”

“Yeah,” Willam agreed softly as she withdrew to the empty space at Alaska’s side. Almost too quietly to hear, she mentioned in a doleful whisper, “Drank too much again, huh?”

It was rhetorical but Alaska wanted to answer. She wanted to argue that they hadn’t. That were only just a little buzzed and that she wanted this to happen.

But she didn’t.

She held her tongue and simply gave her friend an absent nod of agreement as they settled between the sheets to sleep off whatever liquor still remained in their systems.

But unlike the previous night they had kissed, this time, neither made a move to separate themselves until they awoke the next morning and even then there was a heavy reluctance behind their movements.

As to who awoke first it was difficult to say but each kept their arms wrapped around the other’s body for as long as they could until hunger forced them to pretend to awaken. Again, neither seemed tempted to talk about what had happened the previous night other than play it off as a drunken mistake but Alaska was not as convinced that at leastsome of what happened was solely from the influence of alcohol.

There were fleeting memories at first, followed by more solid ones, of all that she and Willam had done last night. There had been mutual air of desperate need behind their actions. An underlying tone of want and desire…and if Alaska had any doubts of how into their makeout session Willam had been, the dark hickey that appeared on her neck certainly told quite a story.

But each kept their mouth shut about those details as they pried their limbs away from one another. Alaska could have sworn she saw Willam’s eyes flicked down to her collarbone for just a second but that easily could have been her imagination. Within just a few seconds, Willam had slipped off the bed in order to claim the shower first and wipe away the traces of last night’s makeup.

As Alaska dug through her closet for a change of clothes, she wondered how long it would be until the next instance of whatever this was will occur. After all, the law of the universe practically demanded that all significant events come in threes. Not that she always put a lot of stock in those thoughts but it certainly seemed to be true more often than not. As she filled the time waiting for the bathroom to open up, Alaska mused whether the next kiss would happen inside the club or afterwards as it had been last night.

As it turned out, when it came time for the third incidence, they never even made it out of Willam’s apartment.

Only two weeks had passed and Alaska was getting a bit antsy as to when the universe would take a hand yet again and force them together. Sure, they’d gone clubbing together a few nights already but those had all ended rather routinely. There was nothing special or interesting that had happened aside from just spending the night with her best friend. Perhaps the only unusual thing as of late was that Willam seemed to have no interest in taking anyone else home with her. It was a welcome change, Alaska wouldn’t lie. But it did make her curious as to the reason.

She was sure she ought to bring up the topic but every time the opportunity presented itself, she found herself chickening out. She just couldn’t forced herself to get definitive answer, preferring instead to just pretend that she was the reason for Willam’s apparent abstinence.

It was an appealing lie, she had to admit. One she indulged herself in too much.

Maybe that was the driving force behind Alaska’s outfit choice for the night.

Typically she preferred simple clothing; something to accentuate her best features but certainly not as flashy as Willam’s taste in clothes. No, she usually wore a tight black dress or maybe a longer flowing one depending on which club they visited. Just something to show off her curves and of course, her long, shapely legs. But tonight’s outfit strayed rather far from her comfort zone; a clinging red dress perhaps an inch or two shorter than it ought to have been with slits on either side of the midsection to show off the dramatic curve of her waist. Even the top half used a cut she hardly dared to wear on most occasions; a deep, plunging neckline to accentuate her breasts with straps that seemed unreasonably thin and liable to snap at any second.

All of this had been a deliberate choice to see just what kind of reaction she would pull from Willam but as made her way over to her friend’s apartment, she was already second guessing herself.

She worried that it showed far too much for what she’d be comfortable in later or that Willam would immediately catch on to what she was trying to do. She worried that even if Willam was oblivious, she’d just end up looking like a fool at the club; like someone trying far too hard to get laid or even just to get attention.

But she was already more than halfway to Willam’s complex and there was no chance to turn back now. Maybe if she really wanted to, she could squeeze into some of Willam’s more modest outfits before they left. At least then she’d feel a bit more like herself. As she let herself into the open apartment, she gave serious thought to that option. Amidst her internal debate she noticed that Willam was nowhere in sight; not the kitchen nor the living room.

A little confused as she was sure her friend would have been ready by now, Alaska called out, “Will?”

“Bedroom!” came the immediate reply.

Shuffling towards the source of the voice, Alaska heard Willam rambling as she came out of the connecting bathroom in a cloud of sweet smelling perfume and hairspray, “Almost ready. Just need to find a pair of earrings and my clutch-”

Willam stopped mid sentence as soon as she laid eyes on Alaska. There was a stifling pause between the two as Willam drew her eyes over every inch of the outfit until Alaska was left shuffling awkwardly in place. She was sure her cheeks must have been almost as red as her dress by now. But no matter how hard she tried she just couldn’t decipher the odd expression that Willam was wearing. Her eyes were dark and her mouth almost a straight line; there was no way to tell if she approved or disapproved of the outfit.

Finding the spotlight to be too much, Alaska’s gaze shot to the ground in embarrassment. Her fingers played with the bottom hem of the dress as she awaited her friend to say something, anything to give an indication of what was going on in her head right now.

The air felt loaded with tension until Willam finally spoke in a soft, demanding voice, “Take off your shoes.”

Within a second, Alaska was complying and side stepping away from her exceptionally tall heels as Willam swiftly strolled up to her. With Willam still in her own heels, they were just about the same height for once and could finally look into one another’s eyes without any tilting or craning of their heads. There was hardly a moment’s pause after Willam stopped in front of Alaska before she felt the welcomed heat of Willam’s body pressing into hers as their lips connected.

Her hands wrapped possessively around Willam’s hips as she felt a similar pair weaving their way through the hair she had so meticulously styled for the night. The kiss had a sense of urgency, of being long overdue, despite how recent their last lip lock had been. She never wanted this moment to end; her and Willam finally kissing without any true reason or even a drop of alcohol in their systems. It was perfect; just them with all the time in the world for one another.

But all too quickly, Willam pulled back just out of reach of Alaska’s lips. Even if Willam had wanted to step away, Alaska wasn’t sure if she could have convinced her grip to loosen after sharing such an expressive kiss. Sounding quite defeated, there was a little laugh in Willam’s voice as she asked helplessly, “What are you trying to do me, Lask?”

“What do you mean?” she murmured in reply as she grazed her lips along Willam’s jawline.

Another disbelieving laugh escaped as Willam’s voice dropped to a low and soft register as she accused her friend, “You act all innocent, then show up here in this dress?…That’s not fair.”

“Could take it off if you want,” Alaska suggested in a hushed tone as she slowly leant in again to close what little gap remained.

Shaking her head, Willam warned her half-heartedly, “Don’t tempt me.”

She sounded desperate, but for what, Alaska wasn’t quite sure…but she had a few guesses.

Daring to take a chance, she asked, “Why not?”

When Willam failed to reply, instead only looking up at her with wide, questioning eyes, Alaska pressed even further, “I’m not pushing you away.”

For once, Willam was at a loss for words. She seemed to be trying to convince herself Alaska was actually being serious with her offer yet unable to believe it fully. Her gaze was torn away from Alaska’s for just a moment as she turned her attention back to the dress. Alaska could have sworn she almost saw the internal fight playing out in Willam’s head as her eyes travelled over every inch of the body in front of her.

Tucking a gentle finger beneath Willam’s chin, she recaptured the dirty blonde’s focus and placed a small, meaningful kiss to the Willam’s lips. It was brief, barely even three seconds, but all the same it took her breath away. Willam’s hand was shaking as she withdrew it from Alaska’s hair in order to slip her fingers hesitantly around the thin strap hanging off Alaska’s shoulder. She still seemed to be debating if she ought to make a further move when Alaska decided to give her a little push in the right direction.

“Gotta take care of the zipper first,” she whispered as she grazed their lips together once more.

There was absent nod given by her partner followed by a tense swallow. Then, with more resolution in her voice than either woman would have expected, Willam told her, “Turn around.”

Almost immediately Alaska withdrew her hands and spun around until her back was all that Willam could see. She felt a pair of fingers pulling against the zipper but they paused before drawing it downwards. Alaska knew Willam was still debating if they ought to take this step and held her breath as she awaited Willam’s final choice. Thankfully it wasn’t long before the telltale sound of the zipper opening filled the otherwise silent air and the tight dress became slack around her body.

As soon as Willam reached the end, Alaska allowed the material to fall away into a heap on the floor at her feet. Spinning around to face her partner, there was barely a moment to take a breath before their lips reconnected and Alaska was gradually guiding them back in the direction of the bed. Willam moved all too easily as Alaska took control and relieved her from overthinking the situation. They both were more than ready to submit their long suppressed desires tonight.

The second Willam’s legs hit the mattress, she fell onto her bedspread and pulled Alaska with her the entire way. There was a short moment of her kicking off her shoes as she inched her way further into the middle of the bed as Alaska followed closely behind. Their lips hardly left one another for more than a second as Alaska took her place hovering just inches above Willam. But before she could get comfortable in her position, Willam’s legs were clenched tightly around her hips as she forced the body above hers to roll over onto the mattress. With that Willam was quick assume her place on top all while distracting Alaska with yet another kiss, but the younger woman could scarcely bring herself to care about their positions right now.

Her main concern was simply that Willam was still fully dressed; something she wanted to remedy very soon. But as her fingers slid up Willam’s outer thigh to meet with the hem of the slinky, silver number Willam had chosen for the night, a hand caught hers and swiftly removed it. Their fingers laced together as Willam pinned the traveling hand the mattress next to Alaska’s head. Pulling away, her eyes opened to look at the panting, half naked blonde she had trapped beneath her. Her gaze travelled in an exceedingly slow fashion down Alaska’s exposed form as she murmured in appreciation, “Just look at you.”

“Is that all you’re gonna do?” Alaska challenged, “Just look?”

The question caught Willam off guard once again as she drew an immediate blank on how to respond. Her expression seemed torn between pushing forward and claiming Alaska for herself or drawing back before they had crossed that final line with their relationship. Seeing the internal struggle playing out in Willam’s eyes softened Alaska’s domineering attitude, at least for the time being. She drew her free hand up to tug at the hem of Willam’s dress and call her attention back from disappearing inside her head space.

Taking note that Willam’s full attention was back on her, Alaska whined softly as she toyed with the shiny fabric, “Take this off already.”

Nodding, Willam was quick to comply and soon the pair was left in matching states of undress. There was a pause as each let their eyes follow the curves of their partner’s body for just a moment before Willam took the lead and leant down to press another slow kiss to Alaska’s lips. There was that same sort of desperation from before behind the insistent rutting of her hips into Alaska’s. At once Alaska’s hand found its way to the small of Willam’s back and urged her to press their bodies as close as possible. The heat from their skin touching had nothing on the burning they felt deep in their cores.

By the time the two broke apart, Willam’s eyes were dark with lust and her tongue carefully poked out to run across her swollen lips. It was like she couldn’t get enough of her partner, even willing to just pass the night in only a lip lock so long as it meant being together…But Alaska had other plans.

Craning her head up to capture Willam’s lips once more, she kept the dirty blonde occupied as she easily pushed herself up from the bed into a sitting position. Willam slid all too easily into her lap, loosening her grip on Alaska’s hand in order to slip her arms around Alaska’s neck instead. As their mouths remained connected in fiery liplock, Willam’s fingers played with every strand of hair within their reach. Every so often there’d be a little tug which earned a soft moan or whine from her partner.

With her second hand now free to move about as it wished, Alaska wasted no time in using it to trace over every inch of Willam’s body. She felt so small and compliant in Alaska’s grip it was almost as if their bodies were meant to remain in this position until the end of time.

Alaska’s fingers were featherlight as they drew senseless patterns from Willam’s rib cage, down her stomach, and finally between her inner thighs to meet with the edges of her lacy panties. She was squirming under Alaska’s touch, practically whimpering even though Alaska was hardly doing anything to warrant such a needy response from her. Once Alaska chose to give in and run a finger over the covered folds of her lover, she heard a noise unlike any other she would have expected to originate from Willam of all people.

It was a desperate, needy sort of whine; the kind that almost begged to be given instructions they could submit to…one that showed just how much they ached for anything more and would comply to nearly any demand just for the reward of a small taste.

Alaska couldn’t stop herself from pulling back and teasing Willam in a soft coo, “Mm, didn’t know you could make that noise.”

Something almost akin to a growl reverberated in Willam’s throat as her cheeks flared up. Her eyes narrowed as she snapped back in a childish manner, “Shut up.”

Moving to place a series of light kisses along the curve of Willam’s neck, Alaska felt a smirk growing as she continued to taunt, “It was cute though.”

She could feel the harsh swallow under the movement of her lips as it traveled down Willam’s throat but just as she was starting to chuckle at the rather adorable embarrassment Willam was showing, she quickly felt her partner shoving her firmly back against the mattress and pinning her her hands well above her head. A shocked expression swiftly played out across her face at the change of positions and Willam wasted no time in asking rather smugly, “How cute is this ?”

Despite the supposed confidence in her voice, her eyes still shone with a tone of uncertainty. As if she weren’t sure just how far she could push Alaska before it’d be too much. Recognizing the hesitancy, Alaska let out a little breath of air she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and challenged Willam to continue with small, reaffirming nod of her head.

Even after being given the approval, Willam’s movements were slow and shaky as she repositioned Alaska’s wrists to be trapped beneath just one of her hands. It was entirely unnecessary; Alaska wasn’t struggling beneath her nor even desired to take back control but all the same Willam’s grip remained loose and lax just in case Alaska changed her mind. Her fingers trembled as they grazed over the soft skin beneath her.  There was a slight pause as she hit the material of Alaska’s strapless bra but instead of undoing the hooks, she simply continued tracing a straight line down to Alaska’s stomach.

It was here she finally slowed down to enjoy herself. At first there were only thoughtless patterns being drawn over the skin but soon enough her hand released Alaska’s wrists as she repositioned herself to place a trail of light kisses over every dip and curve she found.

The movements of Willam’s lips over her midsection, especially her hips, left Alaska squirming in place. There was so much movement that eventually Willam was forced to pin her hips to mattress and leave her to endure the soft torture for as long as Willam chose to continue it. Unlike her partner, Alaska was unashamed of the whimpers that escaped her. She let every single one of them fill the room as Willam continued her snail’s pace even lower until she was just above the elastic border of Alaska’s panties. She kissed and traced her tongue all along the edge as she glanced up to watch her writhing partner struggling to keep still.

After what felt like hours, tentative fingers were wrapped around the lacy straps and Willam cast a final look to Alaska asking for permission. The panting and frazzled blonde immediately nodded her head and helped to lift her hips as Willam removed the thin article of clothing. Sitting back up, she followed Willam’s instruction to inch herself closer to the mattress’s edge and took the chance to finally relieve herself of her bra.

Willam’s fingers rested carefully on her inner thighs as she took a moment to take in her naked partner for the first time. Each woman’s heart was beating rapidly in their chest as Willam’s line of sight finally made its way south between Alaska’s legs. Very slowly, she spread Alaska’s thighs apart until there was enough space for her work. Even with the slightly obstructed view, Alaska could see the heavy swallow traveling down Willam’s throat as she inched forward to run the first finger across Alaska’s gleaming folds. There was certainly no hiding just how much the younger woman wanted it at this moment. She was aching for any kind of touch from Willam and even the hesitant, light dip of her finger was enough to have Alaska biting her lip in anticipation.

As Willam became more confident in her exploration, Alaska could have sworn she saw Willam’s lips moving in an attempt to form words. Whether or not they ever became vocal was something she could never figure out as the blood pounding in her ears drowned out most sound. In fact she could hardly hear her own satisfied whine as Willam finally slipped the first finger into her slick heat. It was like a weight had been taken off her chest as she felt it entering her yet all the same she still struggled to breathe properly. Her face felt hot and flushed as she stared down at her partner watching her with the keenest interest.

Willam was studying her every reaction, watching for all of the telltale signs of pleasure that played out across her partner’s face. She analyzed every microexpression displayed as her finger hooked inside of Alaska and rubbed against her walls as she searched for what motions her partner seemed to enjoy the most. And not once was Alaska tempted to hold anything back. Even after just a few thrusts she begged for a second finger, something Willam complied with almost immediately. She was skilled in all that she did to drive Alaska to the edge but none of it was enough to push her over.

Willam knew exactly what she wanted to do now that she finally had Alaska in bed with her.

Her goal was to turn Alaska into the mess she’d always wanted to see and enjoy it for as long as possible. Tonight was her chance to finally have Alaska as her own and she was going to take advantage of every second. Alaska, however, was far less patient. She gave a soft whine for more but when that request was ignored she became more vocal.

“Willam,” she pleaded, her voice hitching.

For someone so hesitant in the beginning, Willam certainly wasn’t holding back any longer. She drank in every little noise that escaped from the younger blonde’s lips; all the soft mewls, pants for more, and little whines of impatience as soon as she was denied.

After so many repeated attempts at begging, Alaska was finally granted what she asked for. A teasing lick ran across her outer lips, flicking against her clit ever so softly. It was enough to have her gripping the sheets beneath her in frustration. Again she cried out for Willam to stop teasing but her compliance only went so far. She occupied her time with leaving gentle kisses and nips along the interior of Alaska’s thighs until she was shaking with a mixture of longing and desperation. Only once there was a hurriedly broken off plea for more, peppered in with distracted calls of her name, did Willam finally turn to her prize and give Alaska what she craved.

There was little teasing following this; after all, it didn’t seem possible that Alaska could turn into any more of a mess than she already was, and the younger blonde was very appreciative of this as she let out a satisfied moan. Fingers worked their way inside of Alaska with a skilled practice as Willam’s mouth remained solely focused on her clit. The methodical lapping was altered with a light hum every now and then until Alaska felt like she was fully coming apart. Her hand wove its way through the hair at the base of Willam’s head and she was sure if she stopped now, she probably wouldn’t have been able to stop herself from crying in frustration. But thankfully that thought was the furthest thing from Willam’s mind. Her eyes remained glued to Alaska’s face as she fell apart. The moment it became too much was when Willam slid in a third and final finger to brush against Alaska’s g-spot and she slipped away in bliss .

Her climax was so overpowering she was hardly aware that she was calling out Willam’s name loud enough for the neighbors to hear until the last syllable had passed from her lips. But even then Willam didn’t stop. With a gentle, caring side few others had seen, Willam worked Alaska through every second of her orgasm until she was trembling and weak beneath her featherlight touch. Only then did she withdraw and crawl back onto the bed into her former position above her partner. But far from being tired, Alaska eagerly clung to Willam as soon as she was in reach and crashed their lips together as they fell back onto the mattress.

She could easily taste herself on Willam’s lips and used it as an excuse to invade Willam’s mouth in an effort to reclaim every last drop until all that remained was distinctly Willam. But even after that, it was a struggle to break free. No part of her wanted to leave Willam’s body even if it was for something as essential as breathing.

But even as she caught her breath, the sight of Willam’s cocky smirk brought out her own snarky personality. Still panting, she taunted, “Pretty good…thought you could’ve made me cum quicker than that though.”

The comment easily wiped the smirk from Willam’s face but as she laughed out a disbelieving, “Bitch”, Alaska took the opportunity to roll them both over until she was on top and promised in mockingly sweet tone, “Now let me show you how it’s done.”

*******

As the hours slipped away, the pair curbed their activities into something more sensual and less rushed until all that remained was a satisfied exhaustion. Collapsing onto the bed in a content heap, they drifted off into a much needed sleep with their bodies barely separating from one another throughout the rest of the night. The following morning they sleepily rose from the bed and clamoured their way into the bathroom for a shared shower. It was here that they came alive once more. The hot spray of water pulled them from their drowsy state as the memories from last night flooded their minds once more. They ought to have talked about what it all meant but neither felt they had the confidence to address the issue in its entirety. Instead they let themselves be content with the lazy, distracted kisses they shared as the water splashed down over them until the chill in the air became too much to ignore.

Yet even after they reemerged and scoured Willam’s closest for a set of comfortable clothes, they still did not bring up the one topic that weighed so heavily on their minds. Certainly they were pushing themselves well past their usual boundaries this morning, nearly as much as they had last night, yet talking about it would make it seem all too real. Like it would shatter this delicate little balance they had awoken to where they were finally comfortable kissing one another. Neither seemed inclined to pull away so they let themselves enjoy these little moments for however long they would last.

The majority of the day was spent in Willam’s apartment in a sort of mock domestic bliss. Fingers would roam over bare skin, lips pressed lightly to one another’s neck, or simply just laying close together on the couch as they watched TV in silence. Their occasional chatter was hardly different than anything they’d talk about on any other day. If they allowed themselves, they could easily believe that nothing had changed but that night as they fell into each other’s arms once again, it was clear that something had. They were careful and methodical in their movements that night, each secretly sure that it’d be their last together. After all tomorrow was Monday and they’d have to leave for work and after that , who knows what would happen? So each let themselves be consumed by their passion and fully focus their attention onto their partner so that no detail would be overlooked or forgotten later on.

As the sun rose the next day, Alaska quietly slipped away from her sleeping friend and returned home to change into her work clothes and head into the office for another busy week. Try as she might, she just couldn’t stop her mind from drifting back to Willam. Should she have awoken Willam and let her know she was leaving? Left a note or text instead?

A constant pang of guilt shot through her heart every time she thought about it but nothing could be done about it now. Certainly Willam was already up by now and had noticed her absence.

And what about what would happen later on when they saw each other again?

Would they pretend it never happened? Continue on with their little charade from the weekend?

…Or would they finally talk about it?

Endless questions circled in her head until she was sick to her stomach with anxiety but thankfully her work day was almost over. Her first instinct was to drive straight to Willam’s apartment but she knew that her work day started later and she wouldn’t be home for at least another hour, if that. So regretfully, Alaska returned home and changed into a comfortable, loose T-shirt and a pair of shorts as she continued to debate what she ought to do.

Perhaps a text later on tonight would be best?

See if Willam wanted to meet up again this week and go from there?

But suddenly she was pulled from her mulling by a knock at her door. It was odd but perhaps a neighbor needed her help with something. Upon answering the door, she was shocked to find Willam standing just beyond the frame. Alaska had given her a key a long time ago along with an open invitation to use it whenever she pleased, so why knock?

But that was only something that distantly echoed in her mind. Too much of her attention was focused on just how happy she was to see Willam standing there. Her heart’s pace had picked up at just the sight and after a moment’s pause she was asking why Willam she was here. But instead of answering, the Willam simply let herself in and shut the door behind her as she stood in front of Alaska in uncomfortable silence. She seemed to be trying her hardest to force herself to say something but nothing came out. Whether it was pride or fear, Alaska was uncertain but deep down she was sure she knew why Willam had shown up unannounced.

As Willam’s eyes darted to the ground in a sort of angry, self-conscious embarrassment, Alaska’s suspicions seemed to be confirmed.

Wasting no more time, Alaska’s hands were cupping Willam’s cheeks as she reconnected their lips for a heartfelt kiss. The gesture was immediately returned and like a weight falling away from her shoulders, the tension in Willam’s body disappeared as she melted into Alaska’s touch. Hands were wrapped possessively around Alaska’s waist as she was pulled in closer until even a sheet of paper couldn’t have been forced between the two bodies.

Almost like they had done this a thousand times before, the pair fell into Alaska’s bed and laid claim to one another once more.

For all of their hesitancy and uncertainty over what their situation meant, this behavior became quite frequent over the following weeks. Neither spoke a word of it to their friends, not even a mention of their very first kiss, yet their habitual hookups quickly came to rest in the forefront of their minds whenever they went out together. This was especially true if they happened to go out with any friends that were already a couple, such as Courtney and Bianca.

Despite the intention of trying to keep up the facade that everything was the same as it always had been; a noticeable air of awkwardness was prevalent between Willam and Alaska, particularly whenever the couple across from them would exchange any sign of affection for one another. For her part, Alaska just wasn’t sure how to act around Willam. She wanted to be able to hold hands with her or at least sit closer together, but Willam was reluctant to make any physical contact in the presence of their friends. She flinched away with a startled look in her eyes every time Alaska’s hand would brush against her body. Usually this was followed up by a concerned glance towards their companions to figure out exactly how much they saw. Her only relief in this situation was that Courtney and Bianca typically spent their time focused on taunting one another relentlessly, such was the case at dinner tonight. After only five minutes it was clear to Alaska that Willam wanted to show no physical interaction, just barely falling short of verbally denying her in front of everyone in the restaurant, and that realization stung more than anything.

Why would Willam be so concerned with hiding this? Especially from Bianca and Courtney, two of their closest friends?

Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t stop a dejected aura from permeating her mood from that moment forward. Things seemed to come to a head as Willam tried to subtly increase the distance between their chairs. It had become so obvious that even Courtney commented on it between trading playful jabs with Bianca or running a teasing fingertip across her partner’s bare leg. Bianca would side-eye her every time but of course that particular look only earned an innocent, 'whatever is the matter’ expression from Courtney. And despite how sweetly the blonde might bat her lashes, absolutely no one was fooled, especially her girlfriend.

This behavior led Willam and Alaska to believe that the couple’s attention was focused solely on one another. So when the inquiry was finally made, both were completely caught off guard.

Despite her previously occupied thoughts, Courtney’s tone was quite pointed as she tried to pry out an answer from the pair in front of her. Even a quick glance in Bianca’s direction confirmed that she too had noticed the odd behavior and wanted to know the reason behind it. While Bianca stared keenly into Alaska’s eyes with a near accusing look settling across her face, Willam was quick to jump in with an adamant denial that anything was wrong. Despite her huffing in irritation at the question, there was a harsh blush growing across her cheeks.

Still Courtney was persistent in getting an actual answer. She was convinced, and rightfully so, that something was off between the two of them yet she just couldn’t figure out just what it was…at least not yet. Her immediate assumption was a fight of some kind, probably instigated by Willam, and proceeded to direct the majority of her probing in Willam’s direction.

Likely she would have pushed the topic well into the evening had not the waiter interrupted by bringing out their food just a few minutes later. By this time, Alaska, and even Willam to a degree, were shifting uncomfortably beneath Courtney’s insistent questioning. Even Bianca was becoming bored after her girlfriend’s attention had slipped away from their flirty bickering. Taking the arrival of their meals as a useful distraction, Bianca was quick to point out the almost sexual gleam Courtney held in her eyes as she gazed at the food on her plate. Immediately Courtney fell into defending herself and off the pair went into exchanging another round of playful taunts.

Thankful for the distraction, Alaska shot Willam a relieved look but even though she was no longer subject to Bianca’s shrewd gaze, Alaska still felt all too exposed at the moment. There was an overwhelming sense that if she spoke just one wrong word then somehow the couple across from her would put two and two together and realize that Willam and Alaska had begun a sexual and apparently secret relationship. For the rest of the night, Alaska barely felt able to look Willam in the eye, at least until their friends had left their company to head back to their apartment.

Following that uncomfortable exchange during their night out with Courtney and Bianca, Willam took more care to keep up appearances around the rest of their friends. It hurt that she would go so far as to all but deny that she had a physical relationship with Alaska but after all…wasn’t Alaska pretty much doing the same thing as well?

She wasn’t going as far with her efforts to keep their relationship quiet but really, who had she told?

Absolutely no one.

Not that she even knew how to bring it up.

But still…at least some of their friends deserved to know, especially since her and Willam’s new friends-with-benefits arrangement could potentially impact them down the line as well. Not that either planned nor wanted things to get messy…but still, if things did go south, how would they explain it to their friends?

No. It was better not to think about that.

Alaska would rather think about anythingother than what she would do after Willam found someone else to hook up with. True, their time alone together had become something almost domestic with skimpy dresses and clubbing being exchanged for modest outfits (well, modest for Willam) and lazy activities chosen just so they’d have an excuse to be around one another. But still…even with this new, almost romantic level being added to their relationship, Alaska was all too aware that they were not actually dating.

Sure, it might seem like that and just maybe she let herself indulge in the fantasy that it was true, if only for a night every now and then. But the reality of it was, this was truly nothing more than casual hooking up. Yes, some of their activities outside the bedroom could be seen as dates, but were they really?

Of course not.

She and Willam had always spent time together; whether it was idly chatting the day away in one of their apartments, taking carefree walks around the city, or even just window shopping and trading sarcastic comments on the hideous fashion trends on display.

They’d always been close and it was only the addition of a sexual relationship that made this all seem like something more romantic and meaningful than what it actually was. Alaska just had to accept that, no matter how much it stung. She just needed to learn to be content with the relationship as it was because as much as she hated to admit it, it wasn’t going to come to anything more. In fact, if she tried to push it in that direction, Willam would likely call the whole thing off in favor of returning to anonymous hookups with random clubbers once again. Something far more likely to remain NSA than this.

So Alaska opted just to keep her mouth shut regarding their new dynamic and simply enjoy the physical aspect for as long as she could until Willam eventually moved on. But still…Alaska was free to dream that things could be different, right?

There were even a few instances of late that made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was perhaps another deeper layer that existed on Willam’s part. Maybe one that even Willam wasn’t aware of yet.

The most recent bout of this internal debate presented itself after a rather emotional liaison they shared in the past week. The catalyst revolved around a lunch outing during a particularly stressful day at work. Alaska had multiple project deadlines coming up and all of her timeline goals seemed to be delayed for one reason or another. She had completely forgotten that they had made lunch plans that day until Willam had called her to ask if she was coming outside or if Willam was supposed to come in to pick her up.

Alaska’s mind drew a complete blank for a few seconds until she realized with a groan that yes, they had made lunch plans and yes, she had totally forgotten about it despite the notification blaring across her calendar. Sounding rather hurt that she had forgotten, Willam suggested, “If you’re busy, we can do this another-”

“No!” Alaska insisted with an increased sense of urgency as she snatched up her purse and rushed out to meet Willam in the parking lot. “I want to go out today! I just forgot to check my calendar this morning,” she lied with an internal wince.

“Okay,” came the clearly unconvinced response. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

With that the call ended and quicker than she would have moved for any other person, Alaska was racing across the lobby and out the main entrance towards the visitor’s lot. It was almost too easy for her to spot Willam’s car, since she tended to forgo the actual marked spaces and just park wherever she could get closest to the building. Typically that meant stopping half inside the pedestrian walkway or simply just parked in the middle of a row. More than once she’d been honked at to move but all that earned the other driver was a middle finger extended high into the air.

Today, as expected, Willam had pulled up right along the sidewalk…as well as several inches into the crosswalk, causing two employees to be forced to walk around her car on their way to the main lobby.

Alaska practically sprinted across the concrete to meet her friend and apologized once more for forgetting their plans. She expected Willam to shrug it off and begin driving away to the restaurant but instead she stayed put and questioned her in a mildly concerned tone, “You sure you wanna go to lunch right now? You seem pretty caught up-”

“I do!” Alaska promised empathically, “I really do…It’ll be a nice break, just spending time with you.”

A hint of color rose to Willam’s cheeks but she didn’t say anything more on the subject. With a simple nod of the head, Willam’s attention turned back to driving out of the lot. The fidgety little twitches in her fingers or squirming in her seat did not go unnoticed by Alaska, but she reasoned that perhaps Willam was still having her doubts about their lunch plans. It was unlike her to dwell on such a topic for so long but then again, it wasn’t often that Alaska would completely forget their plans like this. But in the end neither said another word until they arrived at the restaurant.

Their meal together was casual and relaxed although Alaska’s thoughts tended to wander back to the mountain of paperwork and emails waiting for her at the office. For the most part, she was able to distance herself from her work and focus on the conversation with Willam but there was still a persistent nagging in the back of her mind about all she left behind. But it was such a relief to finally be able to talk about something other than business goals or project requirements. Though at some point towards the end of their meal, Alaska had begun to suspect that the real reason she was enjoying her lunch so much was simply because of who she was with, rather than their topic of interest.

Willam had the unique ability to turn even the dullest conversation into a reason for Alaska to smile. Whether it be through interesting opinions or snide off-color remarks, more often than not, Alaska was with her sides aching from laughing so hard. Before the meal was even half over, it was as if a load of tension had been released from Alaska’s body, even if her mind still felt as if it were clenched inside a watertight clamp. In all, there wasn’t a single second of their outing that Alaska regretted, even if her time arguably would have been better spent pursuing updates on her various projects.

As they paid for their meal, a wave of afternoon tiredness hit her like a ton of bricks but Alaska was dead set on ignoring that feeling. A bit of coffee would soon push that drowsiness away and then she’d be ready to dive back into her work. Yet oddly enough, when Willam drove them back to the office, she didn’t steer her car up to the front of the building as she normally would have done. Instead, she took an immediate detour to the very back of the employee parking lot where very few cars ever seemed to stay for long.

Alaska shot her friend a look of confusion but wasting little time with subtleties, Willam let out a heavy sigh of, “Alright, bitch, what’s up with you today? It’s not like you to forget our lunch plans. Spill it.”

She sounded…hurt, Alaska noticed. Though there was just barely a noticeable tone of pain in her voice, Willam’s eyes were quick to betray her true feelings. She seemed upset but for exactly what reason, Alaska could only speculate.

Rather guiltily, the  Alaska tore her sight away from Willam’s and darted her eyes down towards the fingers that had begun fiddling with the hem of one of her long sleeves. The little button holding the cuff together was a welcome distraction for her fidgeting as Alaska tried to search her mind for an answer to ease Willam’s concerns. But as she struggled and failed to come up with a reasonable excuse, her thoughts were quickly swept away as she felt one of Willam’s hands wrap around hers in order to cease her nervous gesture.

Using a gentle tone very few had ever chanced to hear from her, Willam urged her friend softly, “Hey…talk to me.”

Rather reluctantly, Alaska began to voice a refusal stating that she didn’t want to burden Willam with the details of her work, but Willam was adamant.

“I want to hear,” she insisted.

Alaska’s heart was clenching tightly in her chest as she began a very general explanation of the problems she was facing with her projects. Yet despite her intentions to keep her complaints vague; before long she was delving into every little detail and finally giving voice to all of her frustrations until she felt ready to tear out her hair.

She blamed Willam’s open and earnest expression as she listened to Alaska’s ranting for why she had gotten so explicit and worked up like few had ever witnessed. With someone so willing to listen and just let her be honest about everything she was facing, it was hard to hold anything back once she truly got started. Although she was certain Willam only understood a fraction of what she was talking about, it was nice, cathartic even, to be able to have a human sounding board for her issues…One she didn’t work with anyway.

Coming upon the end of her bitchfest, Alaska concluded with, “And I have no clue if we’re even going to make the deadline now but everyone is looking to me to keep things moving but I just can't if these other teams won’t work with me! They keep telling me about all these issues after I have to force it out of them with multiple emails and threatening to CC their managers and it's just not fair !”

Quite defeated, her voice cracked as she glanced to Willam with a desperate look in her eyes, “I’m only one person…I can’t do all this by myself.”

Nodding in understanding, Willam leant forward to place a quick, calming kiss to Alaska’s lips before retreating back just far enough to whisper, “You’re right. It’s not fair. Not that they’re expecting you to do all this on your own…but I know you can do it.”

Inching her body even closer, Willam promised in a low voice, “And your bosses must think you’re capable of this otherwise they wouldn’t have trusted it all to you…You’re so smart and resourceful…you’re gonna figure it out, I promise. You’re doing your best and that’s all anyone can ask of you but I know this is something you can handle, even if its tough right now.”

Alaska was at a loss for what to say. Hearing such a compliment from anyone would have been enough to render her speechless but the fact that it was Willam? Someone known to awkwardly back out of the room like it were filled with victims of the plague once anyone started talking about their emotions? Someone who had more than once told their friends to ‘Suck it up!’ after bitching about a bad day at work?

It was enough to set her cheeks ablaze as she struggled to make any sort of intelligible sentence form in her head.

Finally, after darting her eyes away to collect her composure, she murmured in appreciation, “Thank you.”

Carefully tilting Alaska’s face back to hers, Willam flashed her a genuine smile and assured her, “I mean it. I have faith in you that you’ll figure it out.”

With that the pair shared another sweet kiss, one that left Alaska’s fingers tangled in Willam’s hair in a desperate effort to keep her from pulling away. It felt like so much more had been said with just that one action and neither felt quite willing to return to work after that. But responsibility won out and the two pried themselves away from one another in order to finish out their work day. Before leaving they exchanged a strong promise to see each other again tonight and as quickly as they were able to, they found their way to Alaska’s bed.

She wanted to thank Willam for what she had said earlier, for giving her the strength and resolve to tackle her work head on.

She wanted to repay her in the most expressive way she could think of. One that would show Willam just how grateful she was to have her in her life and how thankful she was to have Willam’s support.

Every ounce of her attention was singularly focused on Willam’s pleasure that night as she slipped inside of her partner with the strap-on that Willam had loved so much. More than any other toy they had tried using in their time together, this was the one Willam preferred and to show her appreciation, Alaska would gladly use it all night if that was what Willam had wanted. Anything she asked for was granted in an instant, whether it be a gentle tug on her hair, a light scratch down the length of her back and arms, or even just one more kiss despite the fact that Willam was barely able to catch her breath as it was…all of it, Alaska willingly and eagerly gave to her.

She was sure to leave no area untouched as she kissed her way across every inch of exposed skin that she could reach. Willam was writhing beneath her, so close and still begging for all that she could handle, and Alaska simply wanted to give it all to her. Her thrusts were as hard or soft as Willam demanded, as fast or as slow as she wanted until finally Willam slipped over the edge. As her body shook from the strength of her orgasm, Alaska intertwined their fingers together with one hand as the other brushed away the stray locks sticking to the sweat that had formed on Willam’s forehead. A series of gentle kisses were placed up her partner’s neck as Willam tried to catch her breath and reform some kind of coherent thought pattern.

Once it seemed as though she were breathing more easily, Alaska slipped the toy out and worked her lips down Willam’s body until she had dipped just below her stomach. With a glance up for approval, Willam gave a slight nod and soon Alaska’s mouth was at work once again. She began with carefully licking away the flavored lube that had been spread across Willam’s inner thighs and gradually inched ever closer to the most sensitive part of Willam’s anatomy.

She tried to remain considerate of just how sensitive Willam must be at the moment but the squirming and soft whines for more were all the encouragement she needed to move forward. Tentative licks became more deliberate as she pushed her tongue past Willam’s folds to lap at the mess she had made. All the mewls falling from Willam’s lips made the experience so much more of a turn on for Alaska. If she could have, she’d have given all that she had to relive this night forever.

But soon a broken call of her name filled the apartment and Alaska pulled away to look at her lover. Willam was an utter wreck as she lay on the bed; any trace of eyeliner she’d been wearing earlier was smeared into the glittery mess that was her eyeshadow and half extended down the expanse of her cheeks. Her beachy curls were tangled to hell and spread almost like a halo onto the pillow beneath her. But perhaps Alaska’s favorite sign of their night together was the littering of lipstick and darkening love bites she’d left scattered across Willam’s body. It was almost as if she were laying a physical claim to Willam; one that only they would ever see or know about.

Resuming her position overtop of her partner, they shared another passionate liplock. As the pair broke apart, Alaska panted out a question asking if Willam wanted to continue. The agreement was almost immediate, something that easily brought a pleased smile to the younger blonde.

With little resistance from her partner she rolled their bodies over until Willam was sitting just over top of Alaska’s legs with the strap-on standing straight up before her. Willam looked a bit confused by the change in position, at least until Alaska let out a seductive whisper of, “Wanna see you riding me for a bit…not fair to have me doing all the work, now is it?”

With that invitation, the pair began their activities once again. Neither was quite sure of the time when they finally called it quits. It must’ve been rather late or perhaps their exhaustion just made it seem that way. Each felt like they were practically on autopilot as they cleaned themselves off and slipped between the covers to lay nestled together until the next morning. Alaska’s final thoughts were a reflection of just how right it felt to have Willam in her arms and how desperately she wished that the older woman would return her affections one day.

******

But despite Alaska’s occasional wondering if Willam could ever harbor the same feelings towards her, at the end of each of her musings, she remained sure that the answer was ultimately going to be 'no.’

Sure, Willam might’ve been a bit more soft with her than anyone else but it was only because they were best friends. There wasn’t anything deeper aside from their now physical relationship. Any additional emotional attachment was just her wishful thinking. Her longing for something deeper and more substantial with Willam.

And after nearly 4 months of trying to hide their arrangement and her feelings regarding Willam, Alaska was sure some of their friends suspected something was going on between them. A number of the couples had tried their best to curb their curiosity but a few had made some subtle inquiries to try and work out the depth of their relationship. Courtney was perhaps the most blatant, seeming intent on probing the pair with a number of carefully worded questions whenever they were together until a few too many kicks to the shin forced her to stop. More than once she had complained about a growing bruise on her leg but both Bianca and Willam, the latter with her cheeks starting to burn, told her quite mercilessly that it was her own fault.

During the instances where they had gone out with Raja and Manila, those inquiries were now replaced with looks of pity and sympathy. Manila often reached over and took ahold of Alaska’s hand as she gave her friend a reassuring smile but the gesture simply left Alaska’s head spinning in a state of confusion. Raja was a bit like Bianca in that she would shoot knowing glances towards the pair, Willam in particular, but all that seemed to earn was the contempt of the dirty blonde. Usually by the time their outing was over, Willam’s arms were crossed in annoyance and she’d be huffing out that she was ready to leave. Raja would typically roll her eyes and again the pair would descend into a round of nonverbal communication that always seemed to end with Willam pulling Alaska away into the night.

Once or twice, Alaska tried to ask what all was going on but Willam stubbornly refused to answer. Annoyingly, she’d usually just deny that anything had happened despite the oh so obvious fact that Alaska was there to witness it. So rather quickly, Alaska learned to leave well enough alone and stopped asking questions.

But still that didn’t ease the discontent of her stomach nor the clenching of her heart. At the times when their friends’ focus was solely on their partners, Alaska was left to feel like the odd person out. Both the subtle and blatant show of affection the couples displayed caused her stomach to flip and her heart to drop. Even just a simple intertwining of fingers left Alaska dwelling in a state of pathetic jealousy and loneliness. Raja and Manila were the worst offenders of this; the two just couldn’t seem to keep their hands off one another but there were times when Bianca and Courtney were almost as bad.

Though it was much rarer, the pair usually preferring just to taunt each other or let a few stray fingers slip across their partner’s skin in a not so modest manner, there were a few occasions when they would exchange a meaningful kiss or hold on tightly to one another’s hand as if daring the world to throw whatever it could at them. On the days when Courtney was craving more than their usual brand of playful insults, Bianca was more than willing to pull her girlfriend into her arms and leave a random trail of kisses across her neck and cheek. During these instances, thankfully few and far between, it would practically take the outbreak of a war to pry the pair’s attention away from one another.

Though that meant no questions about Willam and Alaska’s state of affairs, having to remain witness to that undeniably close bond she would never experience left Alaska feeling utterly miserable. And tonight’s dinner date seemed to be leading in that direction. Both Bianca and Courtney’s eyes had grown soft that night as they gazed at one another until even Willam was shifting uncomfortably in her seat. It felt as though she and Alaska were third wheeling, though the expectation for this night was just supposed to be a simple meal at the cafe and later perhaps a walk around the city.

A few glances were exchanged between Willam and Alaska, usually of rolling eyes or gagging expressions, but Alaska’s heart just wasn’t in it. Every second that passed was compounding her loneliness until finally after watching Courtney and Bianca share a short but sweet peck on the lips, Alaska abruptly stood up and excused herself for a smoke break.

It was common knowledge that she had given up smoking a long time ago but every so often she’d give into temptation if the stressors of her life proved to be too great. Thankfully she always seemed to have at least a half empty pack of cigarettes in her purse but today as she dug through her belongings, it became clear that that was all that she had. There was absolutely no lighter to be found anywhere; not in the side pockets nor hidden amongst the other random collection of crap she had shoved into her purse at one point or another.

Slumping against the wall of the restaurant in defeat, Alaska felt close to crying. Though the setback was minor and arguably the best thing for her health that could have happened, she found herself biting back a slew of tears that had pooled in the corners of her eyes. Whether it was fate taking a hand or just her friend’s typical concerned nature; Willam came racing out of the restaurant just a minute or so after her and soon discovered Alaska in a state of distress.

Rushing to her side, she asked what was wrong and utterly refused to believe Alaska’s excuse of simply lacking a lighter as the cause for blame. She knew Alaska far too well for that and had little patience for the bullshit lie the blonde had tried to feed her.

No.

Alaska might have times where she got into a mood over little things but there wasalways an underlying reason. Something far more meaningful than just forgetting a lighter at home and Willam refused to give up on the subject until Alaska told her what was wrong.

The prodding was relentless as Alaska held onto her story quite admirably but as was expected, she eventually broke down. Feeling a single, warm tear falling down her cheek, she finally revealed the source of her frustration. Her voice cracked as she struggled to keep herself calm but before she could stop herself, she was all but screaming at Willam, “I’m sorry, I just-I want what they have, okay?”

Willam looked stunned but once started, Alaska just couldn’t stop. Like a flow of verbal diarrhea, she cried out, “I want to be able to tell our friends about us, what we’re doing. Like we aren’t ashamed of it-just…”

The voice in the back of her mind screamed at her stop but she was unable to hold her feelings back any longer. She had to tell Willam how she really felt…even if it meant possibly losing everything. She just couldn’t stand hiding anything any longer. With a pained desperation in her voice, she stressed, “I want to be able to hold hands. Kiss in front of them…even just…sitting closer together…I know you don’t want that kind of relationship but I… I do !”

The tears she previously held back were starting to slide down her cheeks but the state of her makeup was the least of her concerns. In one last hushed whisper, she admitted, “I hate acting like we’re keeping some kind of dirty little secret from our friends. I want to tell them…about us. Whatever this is.”

Having finally confessed her greatest secret, she looked to her friend for some kind of reaction. The look of shock and overwhelming confusion on Willam’s face was like nothing she had seen before. She could practically see the gears turning inside of Willam’s head as she digested everything she just heard but strangely Willam was absolutely silent. The mere fact that she had nothing to say immediately, whether it be good or bad, concerned Alaska. Already she was starting to regret letting everything spill out but it was too late now. There was no coming back from this.

After a minute or two with almost no response from Willam, Alaska’s resolve broke and hesitantly she spoke to her friend, “Will?…I’m sorry…Can you say something? Please?”

Blinking in confusion, Willam seemed to withdraw from her headspace just a little at the sound of Alaska’s voice. There was a moment where she forced back a heavy swallow before asking in trepidation, “You…want all of that-”

“Yes-”

“With… me ?” The tone of disbelief Willam held was absolutely astonishing. Like she just couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that someone, anyone could ever want that kind of relationship with her.

And Alaska was hardly any better off. How could Willam not believe that she was worth all of that? Barely able to keep her voice low, Alaska affirmed emphatically, “Yes! Wha-Why wouldn’t I?”

A strange look passed across Willam’s face. There was a mix of emotions, too many to be able to distinguish all at once but one that stuck out, really, really stuck out, was that of reproach. Willam looked to be biting back something that she wanted to say and Alaska’s patience snapped. Feeling broken, frazzled, and just kind of miserable, she let out a helpless huff of “What?”

“‘Lask,” Willam began quietly as her eyes turned to the ground, “…you…you know you can do better than me, right?”

“What?” Alaska cried out incredulously.

Running her hand across her bare arm, Willam explained, “I mean…That’s why-I kinda thought you knew that already…” Her voice dipped into a register so soft that Alaska strained to hear properly, but just barely she could make out, “I thought that you were just waiting till you, I don’t know, found someone who actually deserved you.”

The moment their gazes reconnected, Alaska felt like there was a sudden moment of clarity like none she had ever experienced before. Her heart felt ready to leap from her chest as it filled to the brim with the realization that her feelings were in fact returned. Though Willam had not said it in so many words, Alaska just knew what she meant.

Stepping closer, Alaska’s eyes and voice had grown soft as she reassured her lover, “Will…you’re not perfect-” a look of indignation and warning immediately swept over Willam’s face and recognizing the poor wording, Alaska continued on to stress, “-but neither am I. There’s no one else I want to be with…All of this,” she gestured to the open space between them, “ … was everything I ever wanted. No one else can make me laugh like you can. No one else makes me feel so cared for and supported…and no one else can put up with my tantrums or whining like you.”

Shaking her head, Willam tried to argue “You don’t-”

“I do,” Alaska interrupted with a knowing smile, “You know I do. The point is, you’re the only one I want to be with. The only one I’ve ever wanted to show off to our friends…”

It finally seemed like her words were truly reaching Willam but still she had to ask, “Really?”

There was a desperate kind of hope in her voice, as well as on her face, one that Alaska recognized all too well. They were far more similar in that regard than she had ever thought but now that she understood all that Willam felt towards her, it made it that much easier to reassure her, “ Really .”

Alaska’s hand came up to brush her fingers through Willam’s loose curls as the older woman still tried to fully convince herself of all that Alaska had said. Trying her best to regain that confident disposition she was known for, Willam struggled to find the words admit to Alaska, “I…I want…”

A fond smile stretched across Alaska’s lips as she guessed what Willam was trying to say. Sharing her feelings was not her strong point, it never was, but Alaska could read everything she needed to know just from Willam’s eyes. Silencing her partner with a quick kiss, she assured Willam that she didn’t have to say anything, she already knew what Willam meant.

But still, despite this newfound understanding, Alaska needed to ask before they went back inside the restaurant, “Can we tell them about us? Courtney and Bianca, at least? Just for now?”

Shaking her head with her own tears stinging at the corners of her eyes, Willam pecked Alaska’s lips once more and laughed out, “No. I want to tell everyone.“

[floralcyanide]

Roommates - Chapter Two

chapter two: heat

rating: M for mature, cursing, implied smut.

pairing: joe mazzello x reader

word count: 915

summary: in search of a roommate while juggling college, you meet a comical ginger who gets closer than expected.

A/N: sorry if this is shit,,,,, wrote half of this the other day lol. also even though the prologue is included in this and you’ve already read it, read this all the way through cause some stuff is different (: 

      "Do you wanna go out tonight?"

   You look up from your adult coloring book menacingly.

   You had spent the entire day coloring, watching Netflix and binge eating popcorn. The thought of leaving your spot on the couch hadn't crossed your mind once.

      "Am I really that boring?" You frown, mocking hurt as you cap your purple marker.

      Y/F/N scoffs, crossing their arms as they lean against the kitchen counter, "No offense, Y/N, but you're pitiful right now. You've probably got kernels hung in your stomach and I'm surprised you're not high off marker fumes."

      You cough as if to loosen the kernels from your insides, closing the coloring book, "Yeah, well. I have nothing else to do except wallow in pity."

      "You can go out with me tonight, then you'll have something to do."

      You roll your eyes and stand from your crunched position on the sofa, your joints popping as you stretch your cramped muscles. "If I don't have fun I'm blaming you."

     "Sure. Oh! Also, my co-worker said something about how he just moved out from a shared apartment to upgrade, I asked if their old roommate is looking for another."

      You cock an eyebrow before grabbing your car keys to find something nice to wear, "Did your co-worker mention a name?"

      "I didn't ask, I was too excited that you might be able to find a place," Y/F/N shrugs, walking toward their bedroom.

      Laughing, you pocket your keys and lean against the front door, "So you offered me up to live with a complete fucking stranger? Are you that desperate to boot me?"

      "Not exactly. I don't know, I'm just trying to help okay!" Y/F/N throws their hands in the air in defense while scanning their closet.

      You run a hand over your face. "I appreciate the enthusiasm. I'll look into it I guess, as long as they aren't an ax murder or pedophile."

      "That's the spirit!"

   You manage to dig out a red cocktail dress and some kitten heels to wear to wherever the hell Y/F/N was taking you. You hoped you get drunk enough to find solace in a stranger, even though that wasn't necessarily your style. However, before your breakup, you and Y/E/BF/N rarely had sex. He never seemed into it, and now you know why. So now that were able to be free sexually and socially, why not?

   It's late into the night, and you were abandoned in the club Y/F/N had dragged you to. In all honesty, you were content in being alone, as you could talk to anyone who approached. You've never felt so confident in being single before. You've never felt so confident period.

   Sticky heat rolls off of your skin as the bass vibrates into your bones, alcohol burning your veins with confidence. Strobe lights of different colors float around the darkness, hitting everyone on the dance floor as they grind and jump along with the music. You find yourself swaying your hips against someone behind you, the shots of tequila from earlier making you pay no mind. It doesn't take long for the stranger to meet your rhythm, laying gentle hands on your waist. The beat picks up along with your heartbeat, courage flooding your mind with the electronic riffs of David Guetta.

      "She's nothing like a girl you've ever seen before, nothing you can compare to your neighborhood hoe,"

   You grind your ass into the person behind you, matching the tempo to the song. The harder you stir around, the harder they seem to dig their fingers into your skin. As the beat transitions into another, you reach behind your head to rest your hands on the stranger's neck. They're not much taller than you, but the stubble amongst their jaw tells you they're a man.

   The air hangs hotter and heavier as you dance harder, prompting you to become thirsty. You abandon the dance floor and wander towards the bar, weaving between the dancing people you were apart of moments ago.

      "Another shot of tequila, Ben," you lean over the bar, shouting at the bartender. You came to this club often with Y/E/BF/N so you befriended the guys who work here.

      Ben rolls his eyes, shaking his head, "that's what, the ninth tonight? it's nearly time to close, Y/N."

      You roll your eyes in return, "you're no fun, Benji!"

     "You'll be thanking me in the morning, though. Where's Y/F/N?" he chuckles and quirks an eyebrow, but before you can answer, his eyes latching into someone approaching you two.

      "Just a beer for me and whatever this frisky lady wants," a voice says by your ear.

   You turn to see a handsome redhead next to you, not much taller than you, in tight jeans and a button up.

      "Anything for you, Joe," Ben winks.

      You hang your mouth open in disbelief, "you won't give me my drink when I ask, but this guy can waltz on up and tell you to get me a drink, and you give it to him? I feel betrayed, Ben. I really do."

   He only smirks as he sits the two beverages in front of you and Joe, presumably.

      "That was some dancing you were doing out there," Joe chuckles, nursing his beer.

      "So you were the guy behind me, huh?" you quip, throwing back your last shot. his lips turn up into a side smile as he nods.

      "You weren't so bad either," you giggle.

      "The name's Joe, Joe Mazzello," he says, offering a hand.

      "I'm Y/N," you smile, shaking his hand.

      "What do say we get out of here?"

   And you do.

roommates taglist:

@works-of-fanfiction @strangemaximoff @mrsmazzello @yannemoore @panicatttckiss @rogers-majesty @lizgarxo @ramibaby

[cucci]

It's You I Want, Part 3

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, kissing, a little bit of angst

Summary: It's the final part of this mess :)

Stark tower was always a nice place to live. Sometimes it could even be described as peaceful when Sam and Clint weren't up to their shenanigans. But it certaintly hadn't been as of late. After you and Bucky had split a tense atmosphere had settled over the tower and everyone in it.

You did your absolute best to avoid Bucky at all costs. You didn't participate in movie nights, rarely joined on group outings and you never sat in the common room with everyone else during down time. The arguement that had transpired between you and the super soldier had been heard by most of the others and the ones who didn't hear it for themselves caught wind of it soon after, causing your fellow housemates to throw you pity glances which you hated.

The only group 'activity' you still did participate in was dinner. Even though you had to endure sitting across from Bucky and awkward conversations, your food kept you distracted. However, as soon as you were done with your meal, you cleared your plate and went back to Natasha's room, crawling in her bed and curling yourself into her blanket. Natasha had been as supportive as possible, letting you borrow her room and sleeping in Wanda's room to give you some space. You made a mental note to thank her once you were out of your funk.

Bucky was faring no better. The super soldier had tried and tried - and failed - to get your attention. Giving you flowers in place of apologies, shooting you glances and smiles which you didn't return, even getting Sam and Steve to try and convince you to talk to him, still all his attempts at getting you back flopped.

When you had come the following day to collect your belongings, his heart had dropped but he stayed silent, icy blues following your hasty movements around the room. When all of your things were gone Bucky sighed at the emptiness of the space. The man had always been a minimalist, never one for decorations but you certainly were. You had added little framed pictures and lamps on your shared night stands, adorned the walls with posters and string lights which Bucky thought were childish. But now with it all gone, the room felt too big, it felt empty. The only things that occupied the space now were the bed, the night stands and Bucky's own remorse.

The man hadn't been interested in going out with his peers much since the arguement between the two of you. Edith had insisted on venturing out, claiming he just needed to have some fun to get you out of his head. But still, he declined at her constant requests, knowing that no amount of partying would make him forget the hurt he'd caused you.

-

"Y/N," Natasha whined. "Come on, it'll be fun. Actually, it'll be good for you. You've been couped up in here for almost three months now."

You gave a small grumble before speaking, "I'm not going, Nat." You yanked the thick blanket further up your body so your head would be covered.

"Everyone's going out tonight though, even Steve! Tony wanted everyone to just come out for a little fun since everybody's been so"- she shrugged awkwardly, her mouth tighting into a line - "tense lately."

You could hear her feet hitting the carpet as she stepped closer the bed. "At least consider it, Y/N. I know Bucky hurt you but you can't let that stop you from living your life."

You mulled over her words for a second, your teeth catching your bottom lip as you tried to come with a reply. But you couldn't seem to think up an appropriate one; Natasha was right. This is your life and you couldn't live it locked inside her room forever.

You heard Natasha sigh then the sound of her heading for the door.

"Nat, wait," You called. You pulled the blanket from over your head, your neck craning upwards to look at the red head. "I'll go."

An impish grin stretched over the assassin's face, hands clapping together in delight. "Great, now let's get you ready."

-

You never let Natasha pick out your outfits and for good reason. The red head had a tendency to want to dress you in the most skimpy outfits in her closet. The lacy black number she'd insisted you wear was nothing short of revealing but paired with the strappy black heels, you felt exposed and awfully greatful it wasn't too cold outside.

Natasha had also done your hair and makeup. The pride on her face was clear as you took in the complete look in her full length mirror. Even though the outfit was rather meager, it accentuated the curves of your body, the heels making your legs seem longer. You had to admit the red head had done an amazing job, you looked good.

You flashed a smile at yourself, turning this way and that to get a full view of your body.

"Okay, Y/N, you can stop staring at yourself. You look hot but we gotta go," Natasha said.

You turned to look her, your eyebrows raising as your eyes settled on the woman. She wore a simple black satin dress with sparkly silver heels, her accessories, a thin silver choker which matched her heels perfectly. The look was effortless but unbelievably gorgeous on Natasha.

Before you could say another word, Natasha was grabbing at your arm, tugging you out of the room.

When you and Nat joined the others in the common room, all eyes immediately focused on you. You'd been so closed off, no one had seen you much. The surprise was clear on their faces as they realized you were going out with them, especially in what you had on.

"Oh, my god," Wanda said. "Y/N, you look amazing."

"Y/N's lookin like a snack," added Sam, a grin spreading across his face.

The Steve and Thor smiled at you in approval, Clint giving you a thumbs up. Even Bruce shot you a giddy look. You blushed at your friend's small appraisals.

"Y/N?" Your blood ran cold at the familiar voice, mouth tightening into a harsh line as a wave of unease washed over you.

You look over your shoulder slowly, sure enough, Bucky emerges from the hallway. Chocolate locks held out of the way by a hair tie, giving you a full view of his face. He looked exhausted, bags under his eyes and bitten lips. His normally casual demeanor was now replaced with a brooding aura.

Your heart clenched at the sight but you quickly feigned nonchalance as you made eye contact with the man.

"You look good." He mumbled, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his eyes still not leaving your own.

"Thank you," you reply lowly.

The room goes eerily quiet until Wanda speaks again. "Okay, we should get going, Tony's already at the venue waiting for us."

As everyone filed out of the tower, Bucky continued to eye you, flashing you a look of longing, a look you couldn't help but mirror in your own expression.

-

"This music is way too loud," Wanda remarks as you all walk through the doors of the venue. The place was as you expected; unbelievably crowded. When the Avengers were rumored to be anywhere in the city, there was sure to be a mass of people that followed. This was no exception.

The dim lighting of the place was a bit off putting, but the constant strobe of red and blue made it a little more bearable. As you all began to disperse about the club, Natasha grabbed your hand, determined to get you to the bar.

"You just want to get me drunk, don't you?" You ask the woman, already knowing the answer.

Her mouth pouted, "Well, not drunk but maybe a little tipsy, just a little." She emphasizes her statement by pressing her thumb and pointer finger in a pinching motion then waves her hand in the air dramatically, catching the attention of the bartender. "Can I get two vodka martinis?"

The man nods and gets to preparing your drinks. "I hate vodka," you say to no one in particular.

When the barkeep hands the two of you your drinks, Natasha wastes no time in downing hers. You take a look into your glass before doing the same. The liquid burns your throat, the heat of it traveling down until it settles in your belly, your face scrunching at the flavor.

"Oh, Y/N," a familiar voice calls. "Didn't expect to see you here."

You turn to see Edith, the imposing woman also dressed in black making her seem even more daunting.

"So, where's Bucky- oh, wait. I almost forgot about your little quarrel." Your eyebrows furrow at the vixen's statement but she continues nonetheless.

"I have to admit it's a little pathetic you would start an arguement over your boyfriend having a friend." She arches a brow at you. "Insecurity isn't a good look."

Something inside of you snaps at her words, your face contorting into a glower. Your mouth opens to give the woman a piece of your mind until you're interrupted by Natasha.

"Fuck off, Edith. How about you worry about your shitty dye job instead of someone else's relationship, yeah?"

A look of shock forms on the woman's face, her mouth gaping, trying to spew out a repsonse. Natasha pulls you away from Edith and guides you to the dance floor. "Don't let her screw up your night either."

The dance floor was a mass of people, all of them moving freely to the music blasting out of the speakers. You giggled a little as Nat clasped your hands in her own, swinging your arms a little, persuading you to dance with her. You slowly but surely lost your self in the heavy rhythm of the song currently playing, your body following along with the sway of the crowd.

Leisurely, you had drifted away from Natasha, losing her in the horde of bodies, you didn't mind much. You continued to enjoy yourself, the stress of your life for the past few months leaving your mind that was until you bumped into something, or rather, someone.

"Oh," you utter, turning around to apologize. "Sorry, I-" Your words trail off as look at the person you'd bumped into, your cheeks warming as you looked at the chiseled face of the stranger. "I-I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention."

The guy chuckles a your clumsiness, a light grin on his face. "It's fine," he says but doesn't move or walk away, he just stares at you for a second. "So, you care to dance?"

-

"Bucky, are you even listening to me?"

The man's brows furrowed at the question, his eyes meeting Edith's as she scowled down at him.

She rolls her eyes. "Ugh, why do I even bother? I'm trying to help you out of your little mood and you won't even pay attention."

Bucky keeps his silence answering, opting to sip at the beer he'd bought instead. The night out had been disappointing for the super soldier to say the least. Once everyone had made it to the venue, he was left to his own discretion. The others wanting to dance or play drinking games or mingle while Bucky on the the other had only felt like sulking. Somehow, Edith had found him in his lonely corner of the bar and hadn't left him alone since.

"You really should try to have fun tonight. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves," she says, placing her hand atop his own. "Even Y/N."

Hearing your name rouses interest in the soldier, "What do you mean?" He asks, his curiosity getting the best of him.

The woman purses her lips like she's pondering whether to answer or not. Bucky's hands clench in anticipation, somehow he could already guess what Edith was going to say.

She points her index finger in the direction of the dance floor, Bucky's eyes following suit. "I mean, she does look to be having a good time."

Bucky felt like his eyes were deceiving him, you were never type to dance at all, let alone in public - or with total strangers. But as he continued to stare, the sight of you with someone else became all the more real; his hands on your waist, your arms laced around his neck, the pair of you pressed so close together. Bucky knew he had no right to be jealous, you and him were no longer an item, hadn't been for months, but that didnt stop the grave feeling of envy from creeping into him. He stood, eyes still locked on you.

"Don't go over there," Edith commanded. "You'll just make a fool of yourself."

Like earlier, the super soldier ignored the woman, starting towards you and the stranger. He heard the shout of his name once more until he was on the dance floor. The brunette wasn't even sure what he planned to do, he just wanted you away from the man.

Without much - or any thought, really - Bucky snags at your arm, pulling you away from the unknown man.

"H-hey! Let me go," You shout, trying to pull your arm away, but your protests die down once you realize who's clutching your arm.

"Hey, man, we were-"

Bucky raises his hand, letting the shiny, dark metal of it be seen in the low lighting of the club, a menacing grimace settling over his features. "Beat it," he says, leaving no room for arguements. The man glances at the metal of Bucky's arm then walks away swiftly causing you to sigh of annoyance.

"Damn it, Bucky!" You exclaim. "You can't just-"

Bucky tightens his hold on your arm, urging you away from the crowd of people, leading you near the bathrooms.

"Bucky, you can't do that!" You shout, hand reaching out to smack at the soldier's shoulder. The hit didn't effect him at all but his eyebrows did raise in surprise at your anger. "You can't just drag me around whenever you want, I'm not your property." You snatch your arm out of his rough grip.

He lets out an annoyed breath, "I-I'm sorry, okay? I just saw you with him and I couldn't help it." His flesh hand goes to scratch at the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Well, what do you want?" You ask. You cross your arms in front of yourself, suddenly very aware of your outfit. The brunette catches his bottom lip between his teeth before finally speaking.

"You," he says simply.

You roll your eyes in agitation. "Bucky, we've been over this. I'm-"

"I know, I know," he interrupts. "A-and I'll do it, I'll do whatever you want me to."

"You'll what? Tell everyone about us?" He nods reassuringly.

The declaration surprised you, your mouth opening on a gasp. In the time that you and Bucky had spent apart, you'd expected him to just choose Edith and forget about you. The fact that he hadn't and was willing to tell everyone about your relationship brought on a sharp feeling of relief.

"Just give me another chance, please, Y/N," he begs, his hands laying over your hips. "I swear, I'll make sure everyone knows what you mean to me, no more hiding you. And we can spend more time together. I-"

You silence the rambling man by pressing your mouth to his, arms twining around his neck. His hands squeeze a bit tighter on your waist. Bucky can't help but deepen the kiss, his mouth coercing your own open a bit wider allowing his tongue to slide against your own. You let out a groan at the feel of it. Being deprived of Bucky's affection for so long made you almost desperate for it now.

His mouth leaves yours to pepper light kisses to your neck making you sigh out in content.

"Bucky," you whined. "We can't do this here."

The super soldier's stops his actions to eye your face prompting you to shoot him a coy grin.

"I hope you're ready to make it up to me," you say, deviance subtly slipping into your tone.

"I'll make it up to you as long as you want," the super soldier replies then plants another peck to your lips.

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

A/N: This took me 50 billion years to complete but finally, FINALLY I'VE FINISHED! I wasn't planning on making this 3 parts at first but :/ it happened. I hope you guys enjoyed this shit 💕💕💕

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@mgoo0t - @iheartsebastianstan - @multifandomdump - @lovely-geek - @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes - @midnightdream83 - @sakurashortstack