#with the intent that if i got this shirt id be inspired to go to college

[vanweezer]

pre haircut

they them

[ppersonna]

the landlord - myg | m

↳ summary- your air conditioner breaks right at the height of a recordbreaking heat wave.  good thing your hot landlord, yoongi, knows how to attend to any needs you may have.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 4.3k

↳ pairing- yoongi x reader

↳ genre- smut, light crack, PWP

↳ warnings- basically the plot of a porn, theres no plot, the plot doesn’t make sense, seduction, oral sex (m/f receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk, fun laughing giggly time during sex, honestly yoongi is great and i love him, maybe exhibitionism if u squint ???, cum sharing, finger sucking, motorboating

↳ a/n- did i just write basically the plotline of a bad porno? yes.  did i love it? also yes.  this was lowkey inspired by my own landlord coming over to my place (that i DIDNT SLEEP WITH) and i answered the door in a state of undress :/ i hate myself lol.  anywwayyss! enjoy yoongi the landlord!  pls feel free to interact with me because i need constant attention uwu

The inside of your apartment feels hotter than the blazing sun outside.  Your air conditioner chose the worst week to fritz on you. A record-breaking heat wave.

Nothing helps.  You open windows, blow fans, sit in front of your fridge, take cold showers. All just momentary bliss that ends too soon.

It finally breaks you and you muster up the courage to text your landlord, Yoongi.  

You inhale a deep breath as you click on the name. Min Yoongi, landlord.  Your eyes flutter shut for a moment without realizing.

Your landlord who lives in the same building as you is likely the hottest and most attractive man you’ve ever met. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a crush on the man. Every month, paying rent was torture. You wanted to fling your legs open to him and request he takes his payment another way.

But you never did. He always remained cool and expressionless and it was hard to get a read on the man, let alone see if he’s interested.

Your fingers slide across the keys, nibbling at your lip as you decide what to say.

[to: yoongi] hi! sorry to bother you but my ac appears to have died and im afraid ill be next at the rate of his heat wave 😩 no rush but id appreciate help!

Perfect. Simple, slightly cutesy. Emoji to express how chill you are.

Your phone vibrates almost instantly and a smile curves on your face.

[to: me] oh no, we can’t have that. haunted apartments are hard to rent out 😉 im out until late tonight but i can stop by first thing in the morning if that’s cool?

A flirty line? Is this… working?

[to: yoongi] tomorrow is great! and don’t worry, if i die i won’t haunt this apartment, i’ll haunt yours 😌

[to: me] see you tomorrow, poltergeist 👻

You’re leaping through the air at the idea of the hot landlord semi-flirting with you over text when you notice your apartment. It’s disgusting. Your face burns red and you instantly work on the space before Yoongi comes over. He can't see you like this.

Sleep is out of the question. After your ravage cleaning and polishing and organizing, you’ve worked up more than a sweat.  A cold shower helps for a moment but you end up lying in bed feeling slightly wet and very, very hot. The humidity is draining.

You change into an outfit of a crop top and g-string panties. You aim the 3 fans in your room to point around your bed for direct wind contact. It helps, somewhat.

Sleep finally comes as dawn breaks. It’s cooled off enough that the ambient air around you is finally tolerable.  Exhaustion overwhelms you, and you pass out, hard. Finally.

You’re broken from your exquisite dream of being nailed by your landlord when a loud knock wakes you up. It’s disorienting. You’re so tired you’re not even sure where you are at the moment, let alone who is at the door.  The knock sounds again and you scurry to turn off the loud fans and book it to the door.

The door swings open and reveals your landlord, Yoongi.

“Oh, hi!” You’re excited to see him, for reasons beyond fixing your air conditioning.

Yoongi steps in and looks like he’s about to speak but opens his mouth and remains silent. His cheeks tingle a light shade of pink and he’s staring at your body.  Did you drool all over yourself all night or something? What was he staring—

Oh god.

You glance down at your body.  The crop top you hastily changed into in the middle of the night hits you a little lower than where your breasts end. The G string is non-existent. It covers almost nothing, which is why you opted for it last night in your desire to get cooled off.

You take a step back from the sexy landlord still gaping at you and shyly cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m sorry, I—it was hot,” you mutter. “I’ll go change.”

Yoongi licks his lips, then snaps his eyes up to you and finds his voice. “It’s fine. It’s your home,” he swallows. “It’s hot in here, so stay comfortable. Don’t want to overheat you.”

His eyes stare down yours intensely. It feels like your veins sizzle, and it’s not related to the scorching temperature of your studio apartment.

He breaks the contact first and heads towards the panel in the wall where the inner workings of the air conditioner hide.

You wait in your kitchen, enjoying the natural shadow and shade from no windows and a spot to hide from Yoongi.

What if he thought badly about you?  What if he doesn’t find you attractive and thinks of this as a ploy to get him to lower your rent or something?  How could you recover from this?  Would it ever go back to being the same?

You’re anxiously tapping your fingers on the kitchen countertop, listening intently as the landlord fiddles with pipes and belts and mutters under his breath every so often.  Eventually, you hear a soft ‘aha’ and your air con kicks right on.   You think it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.   Instantly you feel the machine push out air. It’s lukewarm now from disuse, but soon it will be frigid cold.  You stand in front of the breeze and bask, arms open to let the wind blow through you.

Yoongi clears his throat, and it startles you, making you realize you’re standing in your house nearly naked, ass cheeks out on display, under-boob surely peeking out to say hi. Your face burns and it makes him chuckle as you jump and attempt to cover yourself somehow.

“How long was I standing there?” You ask quietly.

Yoongi can’t wipe the amused smirk on his face. “A few minutes,” he shrugs. “Glad it’s working now for you.”

The air rapidly cools as the machine continuously pumps out colder and colder air.

“Thank god. I owe you,” you sigh.

“Nah, that’s what rent pays for,” he smiles.

He makes his move to leave you alone, and you recognize this is it. This is your chance. You can ask him to fuck the shit out of you now. If he declines, well, the first of the month would start being more awkward. But if he accepts… it’s too blissful to imagine.

You grab at his arm as he walks past you.  He stops in his tracks, and his eyes travel to where your hands meet his skin.

“I’m serious,” you attempt to sound as confident as you can. “I owe you.”

He arches a brow at you and turns completely to face you. Your hands hover at the hem of your tiny shirt, lifting a sliver to give him a glance of the bottom of a rounded globe.

“Let me repay you somehow?” you ask.

A smirk lifts at one side of his lips. “You think that will cover the cost?”

Your cheeks heat and you pull the shirt up higher, determined to get him in your bed or die trying.

“I’m hoping.”

Yoongi’s eyes zero in on your tits. Rounded and full, nipples prickling in the fresh and rapidly cooling air.  He contemplates for a moment as he lets his eyes get their nice, long drink of you.

“Yeah, now that I think of it, that should be exact change.” He drops his bag of tools and approaches you quickly, hands cupping your head as he kisses you intensely.

He kisses you with all the fire of the heatwave outside, melting you from the inside out. You’re sure to be sweaty and clammy after you’re finished with him. He swipes his tongue over your lips, and there’s no hesitation to let him in. Your hands grip at his sides, pulling his shirt up as much as you can while trying to focus on making out with the hottest guy you’ve ever met.

He chuckles against your lips at your weak attempt to disrobe him and he reluctantly pulls a step away from you to take the shirt off. He stands there and allows you a quick look before he’s back on to you. His skin presses against your chilled nipples and the fire and ice sensation makes you shiver.

Yoongi kisses you passionately, you notice. Like a lover. It’s laced with deeper intention and you hope you’re not overthinking it. You will your brain to just shut up and enjoy. Emotions can come later.

Now, you’re the one to remove your lips from his and he pouts slightly at the loss. You smile and slide down to your knees, hands undoing the button of his tight jeans and tugging them down.

“Shit, babe, I think you may be overpaying me,” he admits. “Wasn’t that hard to fix.”

As a finger pulls down the front of his boxers to let his cock spring free, you flick a smirk up to his face.

“Then consider this my repayment for being late on rent all those months,” you state before shifting your gaze back to his hardened cock. It’s gathered pre-cum at the head and you wonder if he’s been hard and wanting since he got here and first saw you. The thought is intoxicating and spurs you on.

Your tongue licks up the slick at the tip that threatens to drip off, before it swirls around the bulbous head. Yoongi isn’t afraid to be loud, it seems. You supposed you wouldn’t be afraid if you owned the building too. Who will complain? And to who?

“Hoooooly fuck,” he gasps. “Sh—shit I might let you pay rent like this for the rest of your lease.”

You pop your mouth off and lick your lips, allowing your hand to grip his shaft and begin stroking him.

“I don’t want to pay rent this way. How about we consider it a perk?” You smile, pressing forward to kiss his tip teasingly.

“God, a girl who doesn’t want to fuck me just to take advantage of me? And she’s hot as fuck and wants to blow me for fun?” he quirks his head. “Shit, be careful or I’ll end up falling in love.”  

It makes your head spin a little and you suckle at the tip a little longer, making him keen, before you pull away again.

“Maybe that was the plan all along,” you simper, then take him in fully, letting his tip glide down your mouth to the back of your throat.  He groans loudly, and it’s the most satisfying sound. It makes you want to do this more. Every day if you could.

You get to work, sucking him in, allowing him passage to your throat, vacuuming your cheeks to add additional pressure, gliding your hands up and down the slick shaft to assist you in touching every single bit. Yoongi is thriving. He can’t believe his luck. The hottest girl in the complex, the girl he’s secretly pined over, is sucking his cock as if her life depends on it.

You’re salivating at the act now, saliva spilling out your mouth as you continue to envelop his cock quickly. You slip it out of your mouth to lean down and lick and suck at his balls, which makes him hum in absolute pleasure.  You don’t remain long—his cock is nearly pulsating with desire.  Your mouth returns to its rightful place and as you’re licking and sucking and pumping and stroking him, you maintain even and sensual eye contact with him.

You want him to know this isn’t a chore, a means to an end. You want him to know you’ve dreamt of him fucking your throat raw every night since you moved in.

Yoongi got the picture pretty quickly. His mouth drops open as he openly gapes at your work, giving him probably the best and hottest blowjob of his life.  

Your tongue swirls at the ridge of his head and Yoongi feels it snap—the tightness that holds everything back.  He fucks desperately into your throat, relishing in the feel of your gagging and moaning.  It didn’t take long until he was seeing it through to the end, pumping hot white ropes down your throat while he moaned out your name with a string of expletives.

The immoral pop noise your mouth made as you pull off his cock makes the blue-haired landlord standing above you moan.

“Fucking hell—where the fuck have you been all my life?” he sighs as he cups his hand under your chin. He beckons you back up, desperate to kiss you.  You oblige and return to standing, pressing against his body to pull him in to a dirty kiss.

“Upstairs, apparently,” you murmur.

He swipes his tongue on yours, tastes himself there, and decides he wants to taste himself on you all the time.  His hands slide down to your ass, the g string still curving down the line.  He snaps at the straps as you kiss, making you puff a laugh against his lips before pulling away.

“I’d be willing to fix your leaky faucet in the bathroom if you let me eat you out,” he offers.  

You’re tugging him towards your bed, knocking over multiple fans in the process, and flopping onto the mattress, landing on your back.

“Throw in fixing the squeaky wheel on my closet, and you’ve got yourself a deal,” you joke, spreading your legs to give him the tiniest clue of what lays between.

He sighs dramatically with a smile, “Needy tenant,” before he slips down to hover over you. He intends to kiss and lick every part of your body, starting with the tits that hypnotized him.

“Can’t believe you opened the door like that,” he chuckled as he plucked a nipple between his fingers and lightly rolled it.  “I thought I was dreaming.”

The feeling is instant, electricity sparking at the tips of your nipples and warming its way around your body, directly to your cunt.  You’re absolutely certain that by the time Min Yoongi reaches his mouth to your core, he’ll drown in it.

He moves forward and wraps his lips around the bud, allowing his hands to travel to the neglected one and to squeeze and pinch and prod.  He’s rewarded with your beautiful sighs and gasps—it’s sweeter than any song he’s ever heard.

He presses your tits together and rubs his face in the cleavage there, making you gasp and laugh at the same time.  He gazes up at you and flashes his gummy smile.

“I’ve really wanted to do that,” he admits, which makes you giggle again.

“Be my guest,” you approve.  He takes your reply and does it again for just a moment, before he’s kissing and sucking at the flesh of your breasts.  He wants to mark you, leave a piece of him for you to remember every time you see yourself.  You moan in appreciation and rub your thighs together, desperate at the ache that grows with every nip and nibble of Yoongi’s lips and teeth.

He seems to understand and trails down, kissing and sucking at your long torso, abdomen, hips.  He leaves little bruises everywhere and you want them to last forever.  You want him to mark you and claim you as his own.

His fingers slip around the thin straps of your underwear, and he tugs them right off.  He’s unable to stop the loud moan when he notices the slick that strings between them and your folds.  You’re drenched, and he marveled at how excited you were about him.

“Fuck, babe—” he sighs as he lowers his chest down to lie in front of your spread thighs.  Your center is weeping, slicked with your arousal and he can tell you’re desperate for friction, for anything.  “Look at this perfect fucking pussy.”

You whimper as you can feel his breath so close to where you need him.  

“Yoongi, please,” you whine.  “I’m so fucking horny.”

“I can tell,” he hums.  “Keep moaning my name like that and I’ll make sure you’re always horny and ready for me.”

He lowers his lips, hovering millimeters from your slit.  He holds it there as he watches your anguished face nearly burst at how close and yet how far he is, before he obliges you and presses into you.  

You gasp at the first swipe of his tongue on your clit.  He maintains a soft up and down motion on the nub and you’re already seeing stars.  He steadily increases the pressure and the speed, then spices it up by swirling his tongue around in different shapes, spelling out his name on your cunt with his tongue to remind you just who got you this fucking soaked.

Your legs falter and quiver as he slips his tongue deeper inside you, licking into your hole and nearly drinking you up.  He pulls back and devotes his attention to your clit and your moans turn from soft gasps and pleas to loud whines as he slips his fingers into your cunt and slowly fucks you, spreading you out.  He’s not small by any means, he feels he can get you ready to go.

“I want you to cum for me on my tongue,” he states, matter-of-factly.  “I want to feel you on my fingers.”

You nod, plucking at your own nipples with one hand as the other seeks purchase in his hair.  

“Can you do that for me, babe? Can you cum for me and get my hand nice and drenched?  I want to lick it off my fingers.”

His fingers get frantic and he splits his time between suckling and laving at your clit and encouraging you with illicit requests and praises.  

Yoongi continues, never letting up or even giving an inkling of a hint he’s tiring.  His hand works like a machine and he slips yet another finger inside your heat, making you arch off the bed.  He licks at your clit with just the right pressure, and he picks up the speed and it sends you tumbling towards your orgasm.  You feel the breath leave your lungs as it hits you, core and channel muscles squeezing him tight and legs shaking around his body.   Your moans echo off the small apartment walls, only drowned out by the sound of the fresh air-con still running.  

“Oh, my god Yoongi—” you pant.  “I’ve never cum so hard from oral in my life.”

He pulls his fingers from inside you as you come back down from your high and chuckles at your words.  True to his promise, he lets the slick glisten on his finger and marvels at it, before he’s popping the fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean.

“You taste so fucking good,” he compliments, and it makes your chest tighten and tips of your ears turn red.  “Fuck, I could eat you every fucking day.”

You smirk, still sensitive but feeling the desperate ache inside you needy for him and his thick cock.  Your legs spread open as he lays between them and you’re wiggling your hips to get his attention.

“I’m sure we could arrange something in my lease for that,” you tease.  “I could suck your cock hourly, honestly.”

He groans as he sits up between your legs, cock resting heavily on top of your mound.  It’s so close, so close to where you need it to be.  You appreciate the thick member as it rests and as Yoongi catches his breath.  It’s thick and long, on top of your mound the tip reaches to the tiny swell of your stomach.  You know you will not be able to walk tomorrow, that’s for sure.

“You’re telling me I could have been going down on you and been getting my dick sucked by the hottest girl on the planet this whole time and all I’ve done is give you shit about rent?”  

You stifle a laugh and spread your legs open wider.  “Looks like it.  We better make up for all that lost time, don’t you think?”

His cock is rigid, almost stone, and he agrees heartily.

“Fuck yeah, we should.  I’ve been dreaming about being inside you.”

He sounds so dirty, looks so sinful—it’s all so much and you’re almost begging for him to take you.

He reaches down to the pants on the floor that dropped and shimmies a condom out of his wallet.  You send him a look that he silences with a roll of his eyes.

“Every dude has one, chill,” he mumbles. “I haven’t gotten laid in like a year and a half.”  He pales as he realizes what he just said. “Not that it matters.  Or that I care. Or that you care—christ can we fuck now please?” He asks as he rolls the rubber onto his stiff cock.

You’re laughing a bit, not at him but with him, and you lean up on your elbows to kiss his lips.  “If it makes it better, I haven’t gotten laid in 3 years so I’m the loser by comparison,” you assure.

He wants to ask you how the fuck you haven’t gotten laid in that long because you’re the hottest god damn person he thinks he’s ever seen, but he realizes he doesn’t care and that it works out in his favor because Yoongi doesn’t like competition.

“Looks like the landlord needs to fix yet another problem of yours,” he winks as he lines himself up.  You lean back onto the pillows and sigh as you feel the touch of his head right at the opening of your slit.

In one slow motion, he slides himself to the hilt. It’s tight, so fucking tight even after one orgasm, and Yoongi nearly hollers at the feel.  He’s sure his eyes are rolling back in his head.  It’s warm and tight and wet and even through a condom he’s in absolute bliss.  He’s hoping one day he can try it without—fuck you raw and stuff you full of his cum.  

He’s still inside you, and after a moment to breathe and adjust to the thick girth of him, you’re whining.  “Yoongi, fuck me, I need you so fucking bad.”

A feral groan leaves his lips, and he’s off, beginning a pace that has him hoarse from moaning in no time.  He’s never felt so good inside a cunt before, never understood how some men could do crazy shit for ‘magic pussy’, but now he gets it—he realizes he’d probably do some dumb things for a chance to be inside you again.

“Oh, yeah—” you whine. “S-shit, you’re so fucking big, Yoongi.  Fuck me nice and deep.”

“Mmm, yeah? You want me to bruise your cervix? Want me to make this cunt remember my fucking cock?”  He thrusts harder, pushing into you with diligent speed and intensity.  “Gonna make sure you can never cum from another cock again, only mine.”

You’re losing your breath with how hard he’s fucking into you, both your moans and pants coming out in quick little bursts between his thrusts.

“Y-y-yes! Yo-o-ongi! Right there!”  He hits a spot that feels so good, and you feel the pull towards orgasm tighten.

“God—you feel so. fucking. good.” he emphasizes with a thrust. “Need to feed your tiny pussy my dick every day, hm?  Needy little cunt needs my thick cock.”

Tears form in your eyes.  The depths he reaches inside you nearly scrambles your brains—you forget everything that isn’t Yoongi and his perfect thickness spearing inside you.

“Yoongi! Gonna c-cum!”

He goes harder, becomes rabid for your second orgasm and wants to feel the way you squeezed his fingers on his cock, knowing the channel will feel even impossibly tighter.

“That’s right, good girl,” he praises while he maintains a punishing pace.  “Let me see you cum on this cock, baby, wanna see that pretty little pussy all creamy for me.”

His thumb rubs at your clit, moving it in circular motions, and diverts his eyesight between watching your full tits bounce and your lips open and close in pure bliss.  You’re the definition of fucked out and Yoongi feels a surge of testosterone at the sight—knowing he was responsible.

“O-oh! Th-there!” You’re frantic and he can tell you’re right on the edge.  He goes even faster, deeper and harder, and it’s the final straw.  You’re catapulted off the edge and thrown headfirst into your orgasm.   As he suspected, your perfect cunt pulsates around him like a fist and he’s groaning and stuttering as it triggers his own release.  

It takes a few moments for both of you to come down, before he pulls his softening cock from within you and disposes of the condom.  You’re breathing hard, and he’s smiling at the sheen of sweat on your body.

“Good thing I got that AC fixed today, hm?” He asks as he leans over to kiss at your lips.

You grin and pull him down to lay next to you, snuggling into his body.  He holds onto you and kisses your head.  He feels a level of contentment he’s never felt before.

You break the silence. “Now, as the landlord’s girlfriend, do I get any special perks? Like you’ll throw the utilities into my rent? Free cable?”

He chuckles against your forehead. “Not a fucking chance, babe.”

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[copias-thrall]

Cause I'm Young and I'm Here and So Beautiful

A look into the rise and fall of Mary Goore's flash-in-the-pan modeling career.

~12.5K Mary Goore/Reader *drug/alcohol use; mentions of past child abuse; brief homelessness; plot no porn; POV shift*

This fic was inspired by and is very loosely based on Aurelio Voltaire's early days in NYC in the 90s, though I have set it in Boston in the early aughts. 😊

Many thanks to the artists who did commissions for this! 🥰

One Way Streets

Mary stepped off the regional rail and gripped his backpack. He had $72.57 in cash rolled into his socks and a give-em-hell attitude.

When he’d packed his bag the night before, he wasn’t even sure if he’d go through with it, but he couldn’t stand being home anymore. Some of his friends had told him he was crazy.

"Three more months, dude. You got this. Just finish high school, then bounce."

But they didn’t have to live with his dad and the step-monster. Every day was a new indignity. Having them bitch about his music and his style was one thing—that he could have dealt with—but everything else had just kind of…escalated.

Now that the kiddies were older, they’d turned into gremlins. They’d somehow sensed that Mary wasn’t their beloved older brother—he was some sort of half other. They’d stopped questioning why "mom was so mean" to him and had accepted that she was because there was something wrong with Mary. They realized they could be little shits and blame everything on him.

And dad just didn’t care. He’d throw up his hands and say, "I have to live with her"—as if Mary wasn’t in the same boat.

Dad hadn’t stopped her when—in a rage—she’d smashed every single vinyl album Mary had owned because the twins ruined her nice tablecloth. He’d shrugged when she cut all Mary's guitar strings so he couldn’t play "the devil’s music." He’d held Mary back when she took a match and burned all his secret stuff that Mary kept under his bed—action figures, books, guitar mags, journals—in the backyard because he got detention for smoking. He hadn’t said a word when the police showed up after she came at Mary with scissors because he’d dyed his hair black and he’d pushed her away before she could scalp him.

Mary thought for sure he was going to get carted off to jail as she screamed about him terrorizing the family and being afraid he was going to kill her sons in their sleep, but the officers had just looked at her bored and told her being a teenager wasn’t a crime.

So, no: Mary couldn’t wait 3 more months.

He’d scraped together what money he had left from his secret shifts working as a busboy under the table at a local dive downtown, packed his backpack with the essentials, and walked the 5 miles to the train station instead of going to school.

Eighteen was 10 weeks away. He could fudge it for a few months, especially since he could already get away without using his fake ID to get into shows most of the time.

So, to the big city it was.

He shifted his weight and tried to pretend that he belonged here in Boston, but actually facing the busy streets was a lot different from looking at a bird’s-eye view map. He had a printout in his pocket, but he didn’t want to look like a doe-eyed tourist. So he set off down the seemingly labyrinthine streets in the direction he could have sworn was the correct one.

It wasn't.

When he came out a side alley into Faneuil Hall, he almost wondered if he'd gone through a fairy portal, since he was clear on the other side of town. Begrudgingly, he checked his creased map, and set out once more.

And ended up spit out by the State building.

Finding the hostel turned into a fraught adventure, and he got turned around several times more. When he tried to ask for directions, most people pushed past him while one lady shoved $5 at him. He used the cash to buy a hotdog, and it was the vendor who ultimately gave him directions in his thick, Southie accent.

Of course, making it to the hostel ended up being just part one. The rates were almost double what it stated online ("Sorry, honey—that site hasn’t been upgraded since the 90s."), and two nights were practically all his savings. Mary had thought he’d at least have a couple of days to find a job, not 36hrs.

He left the hostel, wondering for the first time if maybe he shouldn’t go back home…but he decided it was a nice day out. Surely there was some place he could hunker down. Just for the night.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the cops at every fucking turn telling him to move along. And any place out of line-of-sight seemed to already be inhabited.

He finally found a place behind some rocks in the Seaport where he didn’t think he’d be murdered in his sleep, curled around his backpack, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Mary woke up damp from the dew and the morning sun streaming into his eyes. The birds were creating an awful racket, but Mary guessed it was as good an alarm clock as any.

He ran his fingers through his bird's nest of hair, and he made his way back to the South Station. The men’s room may have smelled like a sewage treatment plant, but at least it was free. He had expected it to be mostly empty at the crack of dawn, but it was full of commuters making that last run to the head before they had to take the train 2hrs out of the city for work.

And it was a sight: a bunch of suits with their fancy lattes washing their hands, and Mary in the corner trying to surreptitiously wipe down with paper towels under his Misfits t-shirt and his shredded jeans. At school, he’d have probably gotten into several altercations by now—no one would have let him just turn into Mary Goore without a fight—but this was Boston, and no one gave him more than a cursory glance.

Just another college kid.

It emboldened Mary to go full-out in the kind of way he had only done when going out to the punk shows downtown at night: kohl all the way around his eyes, and some on his cheekbones; mascara because his lashes are long and thick, and he knows it (his dad had said it made him look hard, and Mary had sneered that maybe that was what he’d been going for. But maybe it had been because he’d liked the way it had made his green eyes pop.); a smear of the step-monster’s fanciest matte lipstick on his full lips; and airplane glue in his hair to give it that lift.

He made a kissy face at himself in the mirror, and headed back out.

It was a nice Spring day—almost boiling in the direct sun—and it tempted Mary to wear only his battle vest, but even he kind of figured applying to jobs half dressed was a mistake.

He walked all over the city, trying not to get lost, looking for any kind of work—dishwasher, busboy, barback—but all he had to show for it was blistered feet and a raging appetite. The only good part of the day was that he noted any restaurant or bakery that looked like it might toss perfectly good food at the end of the day.

He and his friends had become experts at dumpster diving in his podunk town, and he felt confident that he had a good feel for a jackpot. Mary staked out a bakery and was rewarded with a find of "old" bagels. He shoved as many as he could into the nooks and crannies of his backpack before slinking off to the Commons to inhale at least two of them.

Cold, stale dough never tasted so good.

He watched the tourists and the professionals walk by in ones and in groups while he ran his bare feet through the grass. Some laughed with each other as they sauntered down the path while others seemed singularly intent on their ultimate destination. A pack of dogs ran and played with each other as their owners looked on fondly, and nearby the baseball diamond hosted a casual game.

Mary counted his lucky stars that his first week in Boston was April at its kindest—always mild during the day, even when it turned cloudy, and a few times even downright warm. The nights turned chilly, though, and it had Mary in more layers than an onion. If the birds or damp didn't wake him, his butt cramps from being curled in a tight ball all night did.

He spent those days walking around the city proper looking for work. He wasn't adventurous enough to make the leap across the bridges to Cambridge just yet, but his travels gave him a good sense on how the different sections of Boston connected—and showed him potential places to crash at night. He didn't even mind living off day-old garbage food and drinking from bubblers (he'd bought a water for the express purpose of reusing the bottle), but the barren wasteland that seemed to be the job market was beginning to weigh on him.

At home, he could always find a shit job if he was willing to put up with shit hours and ridiculous requests. Here, though, Mary was just one of many desperate people willing to do desperate work.

And he didn’t look particularly trustworthy or reliable.

@dipendancesld

Hashtag WTF

I’m scrolling through Insta on the T, and I’m way down the rabbit hole of hashtags. New content was at a minimum this morning (how can I follow accounts in triple digits and only see the same 4 posts?!), so I’d started with some art tags and ended up where I usually end up—trolling social media for blurry pictures of my boy.

His band has been a local staple for years—or at least that’s what he told me on our first date. I had just moved from New York after a nasty breakup, ready to start fresh, and I’d seen him at a coffee shop hanging posters for his next show in his leather jacket, asymmetrical Metallica crop top, and stomping boots.

Fresh had never looked so good.

Then, a few months back, an online publication had featured his band in the year’s 50 best bands "you’ve never heard of," and now the band's starting to gain traction.

He’s starting to gain traction.

Finding the new online content of him first has become a game the two of us play. We had to stop counting images posted from the popular fan accounts because Mary's now acquaintances with most of them, and I said it was hardly fair to snipe me that way. Mary had pouted—but it was to cover up his grin. So now we troll for the pictures of his latest gig or at his favorite haunts from either his  casual fans or one of his new ones. I even have a whole range of hashtag typos saved if I really want to triumph, since Mary just doesn't have the attention span.

I usually win, though, by virtue of not keeping Rockstar Hours—and because Mary doesn’t have a smartphone. Mary delights in spending the wee hours while I'm sleeping finding new content, and I'll often wake to one he's pulled up on my laptop and a "suck it" sticky note stuck to my monitor.

(But I’m reigning supreme.)

There’s a thirst tag I sometimes comb through (for reasons), and today I’m desperate for that morning serotonin to keep me from dozing off, which is why I stumble across a particularly convincing cosplayer in some…risqué poses and outfits.

The dude is really good, and I have to admit he really does have Mary’s mannerisms down pat. He’s younger and a little skinnier than Mary is now, but his facial expressions are on point. I zoom in to see the contouring technique because he's using one of those filters to make it look old…and that’s when I sense something off. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but usually there’s an uncanny valley to his serious cosplayers, and this dude looks so real. He’s even 100% accurate with the mole placement, which is something I never see.

My heart does a flip-flop.

Is that…actually Mary?

Foundling

Mary's sixth night in the city, it rained. It was more of a brief Spring shower, but it was still enough to soak him and his backpack through. He shivered through the early morning hours until the sun came up, then he made his way to the Commons to lay his belongings—and himself—out into the sun to dry.

By midday, he had a slight sunburn across his nose, but most of his things were dryish—though the food was a soggy lost cause. He cut his losses and decided to buy a sausage from the hotdog vendor, even if that meant he was down to $52.37 in his sock bank.

It was the most amazing thing he'd ever eaten in his entire life (sometimes he still dreams of it), and he gobbled it down as he sat in the grass and watched the show of people pass by.

He could take today off from his job search.

Just another Groundhog Day of rejections.

A gaggle of kids about his age walked past, and he lit up when he saw them: studs and bright hair and cuffs and combat boots. They ran and shrieked and shoved at each other, and Mary had never felt such longing to be a part of something.

Not that nebulous feeling of "my world is out there somewhere," but "my world is right there if I can just get to it."

And he realized maybe he could.

These were his people.

Mary hopped off the bench and approached the boisterous group.

"Uh, hey…guys."

The pack stopped and looked him over, confused but not hostile.

"Oh hey, man" said a girl with green fins and a studded, leather jacket.

"Hey."

I have nowhere to go. Can I go with you?

"Sorry, I forgot your name."

"Oh, you don’t—"

A guy in a tight striped shirt, snake bites, and blue hair interrupted him.

"Shit, were you in my intro into film class last year?"

Mary was a high school dropout.

"Nah, dude. I’m new and shit."

…But he wasn’t stupid.

A curvy white goth with bleached blonde hair and a cream princess dress smiled at him.

"Aww, that’s rough, honey. If you think about it, they really ought to give transfers on-campus housing. It sucks to be so new and away from the action."

Mary nodded. "Yeah. Sucks."

"Well, we’re going to The Pit, wanna come?"

"If you guys don’t mind…"

"Fuck, the more the merrier!"

Mary smiled as they assimilated him into the group. He found out the goth’s name was Vanessa ("But call me Vanity."), green fins was Alexa ("Or Alex. I’m trying it out."), striped shirt was Billy, and the two other punks were Mandi (Manic Panic red) and Aaron (band tee, spiked collar).

No one laughed at him when he introduced himself as Mary or asked him why he had a girl’s name.

They took him onto the T at Charles MGH, and Mary marveled at the setting sun over the Charles River before the train ducked underground to barrel in Cambridge. At Harvard, they ushered him off the train and directly into The Pit, and Mary almost cried when he saw the pit rats there playing hacky sack, strumming guitars, and smoking cloves. Mary watched as his group high-fived, bumped chests, and hugged nearly everyone there before introducing him as if they’d known him for years.

He was shit at hacky sack, but he accepted a round on the guitar and shared a clove with a white girl who had a rat's nest of hair.

"Fuck their beauty stands," she said when she caught Mary staring.

Mary smiled and pointed to his own mess of hair. "Fuck ‘em," he repeated.

She cackled and handed him a brown bag with what he expected to be whiskey, but tasted like turpentine.

She laughed harder at his face as he coughed, and she pounded him on the back.

"Moonshine, dude. Lenny makes it in his bathtub."

"Which one is Lenny," Mary asked as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh, he’s not here. He goes to MIT. We have a strict trade agreement—booze for pot. I’m Katie."

Head fuzzy, Mary had made out with her until Aaron tugged on his arm.

"Shit dude, we gotta go before the T closes. You live close to here?"

"Uh…"

"Aww, I think he got into Lenny’s moonshine," said Vanity. "If he’s a transfer, I bet he’s at some shithole in Allston. You in Allston, honey?"

Mary just nodded.

"All right then," said Alex, taking charge. "We’ll put him up tonight. There’s no way he’s gonna make it back to Allston by himself, and I’ll be fucked if I’m trekking out there without a BU party to crash."

Mary wobbled slightly as Alex took his arm in his and led him to the T.

"Ok, we gotta go now or we’ll all be hoofing it."

They took Mary back to their dorm by the Hatch Shell and signed him in as a guest.

"Is this ok?" Mary asked warily—he didn't want to get kicked out in the middle of the night.

Mandi patted him on the back.

"We do it all time. No one really gives a shit. Vegan Mick dropped out 2 semesters ago and they don’t even check for his ID."

That night, Mary slept in the common room on a lumpy couch that was half as long as he was.

It was heaven.

The next morning seemed like the end, and Mary slumped as Vanity to sign him out. For one brief day he'd been a part of something, and now it was back to Mary, party of one. But Vanity took one look at his face and asked if he wanted to get breakfast at the dining hall.

Of course, he wanted to…but he thought of the dwindling cash in sock bank and hesitated. Vanity, bless her, misread his trepidation.

"It's on me, sweetie. I know most transfers don’t opt in. Too expensive when it’s not bundled. No worries, I got a ton of points I don’t use."

Alex and Aaron were already half done with their food when Vanity and he joined them, and they looked on in amusement as Mary ate half the breakfast buffet.

When the subject of classes came up, he shrugged off questions.

"None this morning."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him.

"What year did you say you were?"

"Sophomore."

"Not a freshman?"

Mary shook his head. "I’m not a freshman."

She seemed about to ask another question, so Mary quickly changed the subject.

"I thought I’d spend the day applying for jobs. You guys know of any place that’s hiring?"

"No work study?"

"No."

"What kind of work you looking for?"

"Shit, anything. I’ll sweep the fucking floors."

They bandied about ideas, places for Mary to try, but no one had any leads. Too soon, some unknown gong had them scurrying to get to class.

Mary suddenly panicked.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I spend the night again? I mean…"

"Yeah, sure," said Vanity. "Aaron?"

"Yeah, man. Meet me after class and I'll swipe you in."

It apparently was a time-honored tradition, passed down from upperclassmen to underclassmen, on gaming the guest system. Most kids used it to essentially move their significant others into their dorm rooms, but a handful every year used it to give haven to others who had questionable housing situations.

So, just like that, Mary had a place to rest his bones.

@dilfpassing

A Deeper Look

I’m so intent on scrolling through the comments on the grainy pics—which I'm sure now are actual scans—that I completely miss my stop, and I have to put my phone away so I can wheeze lightly jog my way to where I work as a receptionist at an alternative hair salon.

It’s really important that I start a good hour before we open so I can return any calls left on our voicemail first thing in case I can fit anyone in today. Which means I have to shelve my find for now, much to my irritation.

Mornings are super-busy because apparently there are some people in the world that like getting up with the sun and want everything done by noon. (June Cleaver’s salon lets me get away with a lot—like coming to work in denim short-shorts and ripped tights, free hair colors, and a snarky attitude—but late start times aren’t one of them.) I honestly don’t have room in my brain to obsess about the pictures because I’m too busy answering calls, making coffee, settling accounts, and giving the new customer spiel for the 57th time to a walk-in.

It’s just after midday, when Penny, the shampoo girl, collects my cash for the salon-wide sandwich run, and I finally have a moment to breathe. And obsess.

I take out my phone again, and I have to retrace my steps because of course the app has refreshed, which is why Sonia has the time to look over my shoulder.

"Missing dream boy’s dick so much you gotta spend your lunch hour ogling pics of him on the internet?"

I zoom in on the one of maybe!Mary in his underwear.

"Who does that look like to you?"

Sonia makes a guh sound in her throat and backs away.

"I don’t need to see your intimates!"

"That’s the thing! It’s not mine!"

"Your boy’s nudes get leaked??"

I wave my arms around.

"I don’t freakin’ know! They may not even be him. Fucking. C’mere and help me out!"

Sonia warily creeps back over, and so does Ryan, since all the yelling has attracted him.

The three of us peer over the phone as I scroll through the images again.

By the time Penny comes back with lunch, we’ve gone back and forth on who’s in the images—Mary or a fake—and I haven’t been able to do any actual research. The afternoon rush starts, and I have to table the whole thing again, having made no progress at all.

It isn’t until near-closing, when most of the other stylists have gone home—and it’s only June who does the post-work crowd—that I can really dig into the matter.

A deep dive and a couple of defunct, decade-old forums later, I find that what I took as an aspirational hashtag was actually the name of a zine called "Heroes."

There’s like, zero online trail about it—except for a few other grainy scans of other pages of articles, poetry, concert pictures, and art—but it seemed to be an early aughts missive for local underground culture and color.

It still doesn’t explain why Mary’s in there in various states of undress and poses.

Or why Mary has never said a word about it to me.

Stripped Bare

Mary settled into a sort of routine. He spent most days looking for a job—any job—with his backpack full of food from their dining hall. Most nights he rotated couches on different floors so the RAs didn’t notice that he basically lived there.

He made friends with Vegan Mick for about 5 seconds until Mary had eaten an entire Rotisserie chicken from 7-11 in front of him. Mick had launched into a whole spiel, and Mary had pointed out that Mick's jacket and Docs were made of leather. He’d only meant it as a joke—a callout in answer to a callout, like he'd do with his friends back home—but Vegan Mick had turned purple, then iced Mary out every time he saw him after that.

Oops.

The brief friendship had lasted long enough, however, for Mick to give Mary some tips and tricks of being homeless.

Homeless.

That had been a tough pill to swallow. Until Vegan Mick had put Mary’s situation like that, Mary had just thought of himself between places.

But it was true: he didn’t live anywhere. He skated by on the kindness of his new friends, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the ruse of "transfer student who didn’t like his shithole apartment and was too busy job searching to concentrate on classes."

He still spent a few nights a week finding an out-of-the-way place outside to hunker down in or huddling in with Katie and a few of the other gutter punks under their boxes in the corners of the T stations. He knew they would have been more than happy to make room, anyway, but Mary always emptied his backpack of all the pilfered dining hall food for distribution amongst them.

It honestly wasn't so terrible now that he had friends and a warm place to go on cold or rainy nights, but.

He needed an actual place to live. To afford an actual place to live, he needed a job. To get a job, he needed a place to live.

It seemed like a catch-22, and he began to despair that he’d never get ahead…until Mandi offered him a leg up.

Mary was sitting on the grass in the Commons in the shade, thinking that with summer coming up, maybe he could fudge it until the gang came back in September. There was always Katie and The Pit, and Mary was sure he could chip in somehow.

Mandi sat down next to him.

"I thought that mess of hair was you, Mare."

"Hey, Mandi. What’s kicks?"

"You still looking for a job?"

Mary put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Don’t remind me."

"You over 18?"

Just last week. But Mary hadn’t said, since they thought he was a Sophomore.

"Yeah."

"Wanna be at least 21?"

Mary grinned at her.

"That’s what my fake ID says."

She laughed, a tinkling thing.

"You got anything against strip clubs?"

Mary furrowed his brows at her.

"Uh…what’s the right answer here?"

She shoved him playfully.

"Do you want a job?"

"Yeah?"

"Then say no."

"No. No problems with strip clubs." He squinted at her. "Are they looking for male strippers?"

She laughed again.

"Definitely not." She canted her head at Mary. "I mean, you're very pretty, Mare. I could probably put you on as one of the girls…even with these triple As," she flicked playfully at his nipple, which had him grunting and batting at her, "but I was thinking more behind the scenes."

Mary held up his arm and made a weak muscle.

"I don’t think I’d be much of a bouncer, Mands."

"You said you’d wash dishes, sweep floors and shit, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the club I work at—"

"The club at you what now?"

Mandi gave him a strange look.

"Yeah. The strip club I work at."

Mary’s eyes bugged out.

"As a…waitress?"

"As a stripper, Mary. Duh." At his dumbfounded look she shook her head. "It’s kind of extra credit, as a dance major. I’m going to turn it into my thesis. Plus, I make hella bank."

She swept her arm across the park that made up her college "campus."

"How else do you think I can afford this rock-and-roll lifestyle? Not all of us are here on scholarship or mom and dad’s dime."

She tilted her head at him.

"I thought you’d get it."

When Mary didn't respond, she touched his shoulder.

"Mare. I know you don't go here."

"W-what…? I…"

He looked at her, wide-eyed as the blood drained from his face.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not gonna tell anybody. Not if you don't want me to."

Mary looked down. "Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know that means I've got no address."

Mandi bumped his shoulder and waved his words away.

"A lot of the girls dance. Paddy is used to dorm rooms as addresses. You can use mine."

Mary looked at her, hoping he could convey every ounce of gratitude he was feeling.

She grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

"So, you up for it? Sweeping floors and bussing tables?" She leveled a look at him. "Cleaning up puke?"

Anything.

"Fuck, I’m desperate, Mands. I’ll hold their hair back if it means a paycheck."

"That’s the spirit!"

***

Mary was sure Patrick was part of the mob—or at least in cahoots. The guy had taken one look at Mary’s ID and had said, "But how old are you really?" and Mary had said, "Nineteen."

Patrick had thrown up his hands. "Well, you ain’t gonna be serving alcohol anyway, kid. Your job is to do whatever I tell you. Some asshole breaks a bottle, you clean up the glass so the girls don’t hurt themselves. Some idiot ralphs all over the toilet seat, you scrub the shit out of that fucker. A bachelor party leaves a table a hot mess, you better be out there clearing off the table for the next one, got it?"

Mary had nodded.

"You show up at 5 to help the girls set up the bar. You stay til whenever it takes to close down—but you only get paid 'til 2am—and you get an hour to eat, unpaid. You don’t bother the girls, and," Patrick had leaned in, "you don’t steal from me."

Mary had gulped and nodded emphatically.

Patrick had jabbed a finger at him. "That includes the booze. If I get fucked because some snot-nosed, underage kid is drinking with my good friends Jim and Johnnie, I’m gonna be very put out."

"Got it, sir."

"Don’t call me sir. I’m Paddy to my friends, so you can call me Patrick."

"Yes, Patrick."

Patrick had looked him over.

"You get paid as an independent contractor just like the girls, so you gotta deal with your own taxes, you got that? I’ll start you at $10 an hour."

Mary’s eyes had gone wide. Back home he was lucky to get 5.

"Ten…?"

Patrick had tilted his head again.

"No, you’re right, 12. Do a good job, and I’ll think about raising it to 15."

Mary had to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

"You do weeknights for now so if you fuck up it’s not that much of a problem. If you don’t fuck up and the girls don’t hate you, you can get weekends. Deal?"

Mary had sat up straighter. "Deal." He’d held his hand out, but Patrick had just looked at it until Mary pulled it back into his side.

"Ariel vouched for you, so I’m giving you a shot. Don’t make her regret it."

Mary had shaken his head as Patrick had handed him some forms to fill out.

"Come back at 4 tomorrow with these and we’ll get you started. Now, get out, I got shit to do."

Mary had taken the forms and skedaddled.

Mandi was outside waiting for him, all smiles.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, but fuck—your boss is scary."

"Nah, he’s a teddy bear."

***

The job was awful.

The puke was an almost nightly occurrence, and by the end of the first week, little cuts covered Mary’s hands from the broken glass. The customers were loud, rowdy, and acted as if their mother was going to clean up after them.

Mary swore he would never get the beer smell out. It now lived in his soul.

One dude punched Mary and broke his nose for no reason Mary could tell before the bouncers dragged the guy away. The girls gave him some tampons to stop the bleeding, and Mary finished his shift.

Patrick paid Mary in cash at the end of every week with a "It’s your job to report that, not mine," and at the end of the month, Patrick bumped Mary up to $15/hr. He worked 5 days a week because, according to Patrick, "The Lord gave us a day of rest, and you get one day off per week."

Mary never reported a single cent to the IRS.

The girls loved him, and joked that Patrick had gotten them a pet. They showed him winged eyeliner and smokey eyes and how to contour. They guffawed when they watched him try out their shoes like a newborn deer. On slow nights, they tried to show him pole techniques.

He saw the gang less and less because by the time they were getting out of class, he was going into work, and when he was done work, they were crawling into bed. Fortunately, the desk sitters seemed to forget that he wasn’t an on-campus "student" and didn’t even bother signing him in anymore. There were a few sticklers, but Mary found that—while back home he was less than scum—here, he attracted all the right kinds of attention…and a smirk with the right compliment went a long way.

By the time their school year ended, Mary had saved up $1,000 (and he needed to transfer his money out of sock bank and into the ripped lining of his jacket).

Even though they didn't know just how much they'd saved him, Mary showed up on the last day as thanks to help them all move their stuff into family cars or rented trucks. They hugged him goodbye and said to ring them next semester.

Mandi bopped him on the nose and told him to keep his nose clean.

Mary took a sublet in Allston with 2 BU kids and a Berkley grad student. The "room" was a closed-in porch with a sleeping bag left by the last resident—but it was $400 a month until September, utilities included.

At first, Mary didn't know why the gang was so snobby about Allston, but the summer seemed to be one continual party. It didn't matter what day Mary got up, there were always broken beer bottles and stale beer on their front stoop, and the apartment had a designated watering can for washing away the vomit that dripped down from the top porches to their own.

But he took it in stride, and when he wasn’t at the strip club or sleeping, he was partying with the BU kids, or letting the Berkley grad show him better string fingering techniques.

Mary still tried to get out to The Pit with what groceries he could spare, but Katie had moved on with some of the others to do a protest tour with an activist street band that had come through town, and without her or the gang, it made Mary feel lonely.

By the end of the summer, Mary had saved up enough money for first, last, and security. He even had some left over to buy more than ramen and some new clothes. To Mary, it felt like a million dollars. He rented a garden-level apartment in the cheap part of Jamaica Plain for September 1st and spent that entire day with the BU dudes driving around in their rented truck for Allston Christmas’s best furniture finds.

Mary ended up with a mattress that he hoped on a wish and a prayer didn’t have bedbugs, a mismatched set of dishes, plastic drawers that were slightly warped, and a broken futon frame he swore he would fix. Throw in a few sets of slightly used string lights, and Mary’s cave felt downright homey.

When the gang got back, he simply told them he’d dropped out.

"Yeah, I just don’t think college is for me. Music’s my real passion, you know?"

Alex had groaned.

"I knew that Berkley kid was gonna be a bad influence on you."

Mary shrugged.

"My grades were shit anyway. But I’m still around, you know. The strip club’s only a block from campus."

"Because we saw you so much then," deadpanned Billy.

"Hey! Stop piling on Mary," said Vanity. "He’s following his path."

Mary shot her a wide smile.

"Thanks, Vanity."

Patrick finally gave him a little more leeway with his days off, and Mary started taking Saturday night to join the gang in Harvard Square for the shadow cast of Rocky Horror. One of Aaron’s classmates, Amber, was in it, and they all wanted to support her.

Mary felt that something again. That thing that told that this was his place and his people. This eclectic group who got up in front of strangers every week in their underwear for free enthralled Mary.

He and Amber bonded immediately, and Mary began going even without the gang. The cast welcomed him in as an honorary groupie, and Mary's friendship with the gang waned. There was still Mandi to cavort with at the strip club, but now when Mary wasn't there, he was at any one of the Rocky crew's apartments getting high and playing dress up.

"You’ve got such a Look, Mare," sighed Amber. "I’d kill for your cheekbones."

"I’d kill for your tits."

She slapped him playfully. "Don’t be gross."

"No, I’m serious. Someone once put it in my head that I'd be a hot chick."

The girls had giggled and proceeded to dress him up in bras and corsets with cutlets. They added a wig, and the glo-up surprised even Mary.

Still buzzed, they went out for girl’s night and hit up all the bars in Fenway and flirted their way to free shots from the dude bros before batting their falsies at bouncers to let them into the clubs ahead of the line and without the cover.

The cutlets eventually became a nuisance—and soon they were all flapping them about above their heads as they danced—but Mary had loved the feel of the lace and satin corsets against his skin.

When they’d all collapsed in a pile at the end of the night, Mary wondered if they’d tell him where to get some lingerie for himself.

***

By August, Mary was ready to quit the strip club.

He was tired of cut fingers (they were making it hard to play the guitar he’d bought), the drunks, and the sick everywhere. Now that he had a little cushion, he thought maybe he could at least find something with better hours.

Mandi had graduated and was well into a summer internship at Disney in hopes they’d bring her on as a dancer.

Alex had also graduated and moved out to LA to make it as a film editor.

Vanity and Aaron had started dating after finals, and they had moved in together in Cambridgeport for their last year.

Billy had stopped going to classes before dropping out altogether. No one seemed to know what happened, and when they called his home, his mother just said he was unavailable.

There didn’t seem to be much reason to stick around the Grid anymore, and it was a bitch of a commute back to his place if he wasn’t going to hang out with the Rocky crew. He landed a job at a record store that was walking distance to his apartment.

Patrick seemed surprisingly sad to see him go, saying, "Ah, the good ones smart up," and gave him a $500 bonus for not "fucking up."

Tim, one of the older Rocky people, turned out to not live too far from him, and when Mary started hanging out there, so did the party.

Now that Mary was no longer shackled by the strip club’s hours, his world opened a few more degrees. He spent his nights dressing up while he watched the cast rehearse. (When he showed them a move or two he learned from the women at the club, they tried to get him to do a guest star as Frank. But Mary had shaken his head and said that wasn’t the kind of performing he wanted to do.)

When they weren't rehearsing, they dragged Mary to TT The Bear’s, The Middle East, and The Milky Way Lounge for underground shows. They took him to fetish night at ManRay after a trip to Hubba Hubba for pleather and lingerie, and Mary made a lot of new friends.

Sometimes, Mary would show up to work straight off a night out in his club clothes, eyeliner smudged and lipstick smeared. It should have got him fired, but his boss just shrugged.

"I used to keep rockstar hours too."

Mary still wore all his old vestiges—his battle vest and his ripped jeans—it was just that now he sometimes added a corset and heels.

Wherever Katie was now, he hoped she knew he was still fucking their beauty standards.

ry.omen Insta

Answer Me This

I practically vibrate the entire way back to our place. I'm still trying to wring information out of the internet like it's too-wet clothes, but the only thing I accomplish is making myself motion sick on the bus, so I put my phone back in my pocket and breath through my nose.

When I get home, Mary is sprawled across the couch in his pjs with various limbs hanging over sides and edges as he watches some extreme sport show on my laptop.

I wonder if he just got up, but I see the start of dinner on the stove, so I decide not to snark at him.

"Hey," he says without looking up.

I am, however, gonna need some answers on "Heroes."

I gently close the laptop, and he meets my eyes.

"What?"

I climb onto the couch, and Mary’s limbs recede like vines to make room for me as I scroll through my phone to my photo app where I’ve saved screenshots.

"Lucy," I say in a terrible accent, "you have some ‘splaining to do!"

Mary squints at me and takes my phone, his expression morphing into one of surprise.

"Shit, babe. Where’d ya find these??"

"So they are you!"

He chuckles.

"Christ…I haven't thought about these in fucking years."

"Mind telling me what the fuck?" I ask, my hands on my hips.

I'm only half joking.

Mary grimaces at me.

"Ah."

"I'm gonna need more than that, mister."

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Fuck, you know those were hard times for me."

I know about his family, the homelessness. I know he tried out a lot until he found a life that fit. He'd given me the overviews with occasional anecdotes filled with names I never remembered.

But none of them included naughty pictures.

I worm my way under his arm.

"Yeah, I know, Mare."

His hand strokes down my arm.

"I mean, shit. I was kinda an asshole, you know?"

I wrap an arm around his chest.

"You're still kind of an asshole, Goore."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

When he doesn't say more, I poke him hard in the side.

"I’m literally dying here."

He laughs a little.

"Fine. But you gotta remember you asked."

Model Behavior

One day, Mary was walking down the street on his way to drinks with the new friends he'd made the weekend before. It was a good day. He wasn’t hungover as fuck, his makeup was only smudged artfully, and he was pretty sure he was going to get laid.

A guy in a leather jacket and tight jeans maybe a few years older than Mary stopped him on the street.

"Hey, man! I love your style."

Mary batted his eyelashes at him. "Thanks, dude."

"You ever think of dark modeling?"

Mary squinted his eyes at him.

"Dark what now?"

"You know—modeling but like," he gestured up and down Mary’s form, "for dark beauties. Show the world beauty isn’t cookie cutter."

"For like what? A website or some shit?"

The guy dug into his pocket, pulled out a card case, and handed one to Mary.

Heroes Greg Karson, Photographer/Web Design Butera School of Art

Actually, Mary had heard of this. It was a zine about the local happenings around town—concerts, art shows, parties, etc. There was a stack of them next to "Rrriot!" in the record shop. He’d flipped through one occasionally, mostly interested in the band reviews.

"We’re really on the lookout for anyone with the right look. You know, wear stuff you already own."

"So like a street fashion spread?"

"Well, we might do a little more with it, but—you know how it is. Most of the budget goes toward printing costs."

Mary perked up.

"Would I be paid?"

Greg laughed.

"Peanuts, my dude. But yeah. Even if it’s a T token. You interested, then?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Mind if I take a few test shots."

Mary smirked at Greg.

"How do you want me?"

"Just natural."

Putting his hands in his pockets, Mary arched his back and gave Greg his best snotty hipster face.

Greg dug out a digital camera from his carrying case and took a dozen or so pictures of Mary from different angles while telling him to turn this way or that.

Afterwards, the two of them huddled over the camera and scrolled through the shots.

"Aw yeah, this one. I love the attitude. The guys are gonna love it. You have a number where we can reach you?"

Mary gave him the number of the record shop. (His apartment had a phone, but he’d never gotten around to wanting to pay for service.)

Later, he and Amber looked up the Angelfire website on the back of the card. It was one page that contained the mission statement, bios of the creators, and locations to pick up the zine.

"Omigod—you’re gonna become a famous model, Mare!"

"Yeah, right. You know most of it ends up in the trash, right?"

But when Ben called, Mary said he was game. He directed Mary to a co-op in a converted warehouse in Dorchester, and Mary brought his favorite clothes in a borrowed duffle.

A girl in cat pajamas opened the door and pointed at a set of metal stairs with her cereal spoon.

On the second floor, Mary found Greg setting up a makeshift studio. A girl with multiple piercings and yarn dreads leaned against the wall in her black babydoll dress.

Mary sidled up to her.

"You here to model, too?"

She gave him an unimpressed once-over.

"I’m the art director, asshole."

Mary flushed hard as she turned to Greg.

"Couldn’t find one with brains?"

She turned back to Mary.

"I don’t know if you thought this would be a good way to meet chicks or what, dude. But I’m letting you know right now that I’m here on my day off to make sure this adheres to our aesthetic, so if you're not serious, fuck off."

Mary rubbed the back of his neck.

"Shit, sorry. I was expecting a dude named Ben."

She waved her hand in the air as if dispelling Ben.

"The Bens are morons. Good idea, terrible execution. I’m here to make sure we remain true to the idea of 'Heroes,' so don’t fuck up my shoot." She gave him a once over. "Christ. You have any experience?"

Greg turned from where he was testing the white balance.

"Angelique, stop harassing the talent. We get it, you have a degree from RISD."

Angelique snorted.

"As if I don't hear you going on and on about being a professional photographer. 'Hey, lemme shoot your portfolio, baby.' Whatever. As if we're not your only professional credit."

"Hey—you wanted a photographer for peanuts? You got me. You wanted models for peanuts? You got him."

Mary gave her his full snaggle-toothed grin.

"I take T tokens."

Angelique sighed, then pasted on a smile.

"Hi! So happy you’re here!" Her smile drooped. "You got your wardrobe in there?"

"Yeah."

Mary handed her the duffle, and she handed him release forms.

"Here: sign these"

She pawed through his offerings.

"Not bad, not bad." She pulled out a corset and his heeled boots. "We'll keep you in your jeans and have you wear your jacket over your corset. Cool?"

Cool.

The shoot was as professional as a shoot in a warehouse in what Mary was taking to usually be a living room could be. Angelique directed Greg with what she wanted. Greg called out positions and expressions for Mary to pose in.

It was surprisingly hard work, and by the end of a solid hour, his smirking lip was getting tired. Angelique and Greg scrolled through the shots, murmuring to themselves and nodding.

Mary waited—greeting at the other inhabitants as they squeezed by on their way either up or down—until Angelique approached him.

"That’ll do. You mind if we post on our website?"

Mary preened.

"Yeah, that’s kosher."

She handed him a pen and pocket notebook.

"Write down a quick bio."

He scribbled down a quick elevator pitch

Into general skulking and metal \m/

and handed the notebook back to her.

"Great, thanks."

She handed him a $20 bill, her eyes skimming him up and down.

"Next time we should show off those hip bones. Just jeans, I think."

Mary perked up. "Next time?"

"We’ll call you."

***

"Omigod, omigod!"

Amber perched on the record store counter, flipping through "Heroes," as Jon peered over her shoulder.

"Mary…look at you!"

Mary tried to swallow his smug smile.

Failed.

"Yeah. I’m hot shit, ain’t I?"

She bopped him on the nose with the newsprint.

"Don’t be vain."

He showed her his toothy smile.

"I like to think of it as confidence."

"So did Icarus."

Mary snorted and went back to putting prices on the new CDs.

"The camera loves you," said Jon, who was always quiet and reserved as you please…until he put on Frank’s corset and heels.

Mary had tried flirting with him, but Jon always ducked his head and played it off.

"Thanks, man," said Mary, giving him a softer smile.

"So??"

"So what, Amber?"

"Are you gonna do it again?"

Mary shrugged.

"I mean, if they call me, sure."

But he was kind of hoping they would.

When the next issue came out weeks later, Mary stared at the cybergoth on the pages and felt himself deflate. Listlessly, he thumbed through the delicate print, barely skimming the section devoted to the World/Inferno Friendship Society’s set he’d been at the week before.

He set it down with a sigh before he picked up his guitar and plucked out a tune he was trying to coax into a riff.

By the time a Ben called again, Mary had given up the modeling thing as a one-off.

"Hey, dude—thought maybe you guys forgot about me," Mary said in a teasing tone.

The Ben on the other end chuckled.

"It’s like herding cats to get shit out. Nah, dude—we definitely want you to be one of our regulars. You in for next Saturday?"

He was.

***

Over the course of a year, "Heroes" had Mary come out multiple times for shoots. Mainly, Mary wore his own clothes and did his own makeup, but occasionally, Angelique wanted something specific.

"How comfortable are you with boudoir shots?"

"With what?"

"Like a pinup, but more…saucy than sexy."

I'd pose nude if you paid me enough.

(Sure, he was a noodle boy, but he knew he had the goods.)

"Yeah, I’m cool with that."

Angelique brightened at him.

"Great!"

She picked up a set of complicated leather garters and thrust them at him.

"Put these on."

Mary had only ever worn lace garters—mostly out to clubs, but occasionally under his ripped jeans for an extra pop—but he found he liked these even more, liked the way they emphasized his thighs.

"Hey—where’d you get these…?"

(He was already thinking of what he could pair them with for goth night.)

"Local leatherworker. He mostly does pieces for Renn Fairs, but he'll also do custom. I can give you his info."

She led Mary into what was clearly someone's bedroom.

"Don't fuck anything up, or Joye will never let us use this again."

Mary shot her his best shark smile.

"Hey, I only mess up the sheets if someone asks."

Angelique gave him a flat look and called for Greg.

(But when he draped himself over the bed and told Greg to "Paint me like one of your French girls," Mary could have sworn she almost smiled.)

On one memorable occasion, she brought in a guy whose rope bondage demo she watched at a sex convention.

"Put on some of that lingerie and we'll truss you up. You ok with that, Goore?"

Mary ran his fingers over the coils and gave her a wolfish smile.

"You know I'm game for anything."

She gave him a vulpine smile of her own then, and she looked down at him from the height of her platformed boots.

"Good. I thought you should be submissive for once."

Mary had no witty rejoinder for that.

He listened with interest as the guy carefully explained what he was going to do, complete with pictures, and he relaxed easily into the process. (They put bunny ears on him, and it would be much, much later that he got that particular joke. Well played, Angelique.)

The ropes hadn’t let him do much posing, but Mary had kind of liked the constriction, and his thoughts were already on asking Amber to help him create a more versatile version for fetish night.

He’d left that day with a new kink…and the guy’s number.

"Why not just do one big shoot?" he asked another time. "Get it all done in one big bang!"

Angelique held up his garments to eyeball over him.

"Honey, we never even know if there's gonna be a next issue. The Bens spend most of the time arguing. My god you should hear them—Ben bankrolls the whole thing, so he says he should get final say on shit, and Benji wants total artistic control because it was his idea, because 'he's the graphic designer', and because it's his Kinko's employee discount they use."

She gave Mary a curled-lip smile as she tossed a few items at him.

"In the end it's this bitch you're looking at who gets shit done."

Mary began to change (they were long past modesty).

"How'd you get involved?"

"Went to school with Benji."

"Ben too?"

"Neg. The Bens are childhood friends. Ben works some cushy start-up job, so Benji lets him bankroll them both. Rent, utilities—everything. I love Benji to death, but he's a giant mooch."

"Shit, that must be nice."

Angelique shrugged. She stood back to appraise Mary's look.

"It's fucking lame. But it least it gets us fucking paid."

Mary didn't say I'd do this for free. Instead, he struck a pose and said, "I'm just happy for the exposure."

Angelique rolled her eyes and went to fetch Greg.

***

That year and a half would become a nonstop party with Mary as one of the VIPs; he wouldn't say no to anything—be it casual sex, club appearances, or whatever drug the current pretty thing was offering him in the bathroom.

But recognition started slow.

At first, it was customers who would leaf through the zine and recognize Mary.

Then, it was the occasional scenester who’d stop him on the street in JP as he walked about, and Mary would pose for grainy cell phone pics.

Soon, he was being approached at shows and clubs. The first time it happened, Mary was high off his new infamy and ready to please. A woman in a black bandage bra and pleated skirt with bondage straps approached him, and Mary was already thinking of what he could do with those.

"You look like that guy in ‘Heroes’!" she'd shouted to him over the music.

Mary had flashed her a crooked smile and leaned in.

"Maybe I am the guy in ‘Heroes’."

She'd given him an exaggerated once over before sidling closer with hooded eyes.

"I dunno…you're wearing way more clothes."

Mary had pulled his mesh top down by the collar in a tease as he'd curled over her.

"Take me somewhere more private and I’ll let you do a comparison."

She'd compared him all night.

And that was before he and the other "Heroes" models formed their own posse.

The Bens had thrown a BBQ and had invited everyone they'd ever met. There were people packed into their little 2 bedroom in Brighton, spilling down the back stairs, and equally packed into the little square of shared backyard. Ben had taken the 12-pack of 'Gansett beers Mary had brought, then introduced him to the other dark models.

"Now you're all here!" said Ben. He slung his arm around Mary. "Guys, this is Mary. Mary this is Mayhem, Lesley, Lola, and Bryan."

Mayhem was a rivethead, and Mary took to him instantly, but he was wary of the others. Lesley was the cybergoth who'd been in the first issue after him, and Mary still felt a bit salty at them, even though Mary knew by now the Bens rotated the models. Lola, the romantic goth, reminded him enough of Vanity that he felt guilty for losing touch with her and had him projecting a little. Bryan was a metalhead, so: competition.

Mary had thought they'd get along like cats and water, but weed, booze, and "Never Have I Ever" went a long way to creating a shared bond.

And there it was again. That pull. The magnetic force telling him that he'd found the place he was supposed to be. They quickly coalesced into their own pack, calling themselves the "Deathbutantes" (because they always killed it when they debuted for the night).

It had been rare for Mary to miss Friday and Saturday night shenanigans with the Rocky crew, but now, every night was Friday night. There was always a show or a concert or club that one of them knew about—and if they couldn't get lucky with the local color, they'd just go home with each other.

Mayhem taught Mary what Lola jokingly called the "grab a bat" dance, and the two of them cut quite the picture on the dance floors.

Lesley took to Lola, and the two of them could always be counted on for scintillating conversation in dark corners when Mary's limbst needed a break from flailing about.

The clubs weren't really Bryan's scene—take him to a sticky hole in the wall with concrete floors and a stage close enough to feel the sweat from the bands, and he was in heaven—but he liked to come along to hang. He'd drink PBRs, rub Lola's feet when she invariably abandoned her heels for the evening, and argue with Mary about the purity of death metal.

Mayhem and Lola weren't really into live music of the screaming kind, so—while Lesley, Bryan, and Mary bounced off each other in the mosh pits—they'd save a "home" base at one the bartops.

Amber noticed Mary's diminishing presence and stopped by the record shop to call him out.

"So you're not dead! Could've fooled me."

Mary was organizing the albums into order, and he grunted at her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm a cad. I'll make it up to you."

"You missed game night."

"Sorry. Jethro Tull played some tiny venue in nowhere Mass, and Bryan was salivating. I mean, Jethro Tull. Can you blame me?"

He looked at her, arms out wide in supplication. But she just blinked at him.

"You have no idea who Jethro Tull is, do you?"

"Sorry, dude. But christ, Mare. You should have invited me. I'd've gone. Maybe I would have even liked them. Now you'll never know."

"I could just lend you an album."

"Nope! The moment passed. Too late!"

Mary riffled through the stock and shoved a Jethro Tull CD into her hands.

She tapped it against her thigh.

"So, when do I get to hang?"

"I can get us into 80s night free."

"No, I mean, with your cooler friends. Your 'murder models', or whatever."

"You wanna hang out with the Deathbutantes?"

Amber scrunched her nose.

"That's so fucking pretentious."

Mary kind of liked it.

"Dunno if they're really your scene."

"Oh? And what's my scene?"

"Musical theater on crack."

She mock gasped at him, "Called out!" before smacking him with the CD. "Whatever. You love musical theater on crack."

Mary draped his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, I do. But I don't live it, you know? You guys have your niche—and fuck…I love to visit—but it's not mine."

Amber looked up at him, her expression serious.

"So the Dumbutantes are your niche?"

Mary shrugged and went back to shelving.

The Rocky crew had been good to him. They'd taken him under their wing, no questions asked, and helped him realize things about himself. Tim had taken him to the ER when Mary had come down with a serious case of the flu. Matty had taught him the basics of sewing. Gretchen had held him after a bad trip. Omar and he had had many drunken heart-to-hearts about their shitty home lives.

And Amber was his best friend. She'd been his #1 cheerleader for years and had never been afraid to call him out on his shit.

So yeah, he loved the Rocky crew…but they laughed at anyone who took anything too seriously. Mary would show up to game nights in his latest creation—with everyone else in pjs or jeans & hoodies—and they'd tease him about trying to impress the wrong people. He'd try to talk about the newest guitar god he'd been mainlining, and they'd make snoring noises at him.

How could he explain the kinship he felt with the Deathbutantes? That they were as serious about music as he was, that they just…got why he felt the need to dress the way he did to express the way he felt inside on his outside.

Instead, he said, "I'm just trying shit out, Ambs." He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I gotta do something while you guys do your real-person jobs."

(Amber had recently started as a junior marketing assistant at the American Repertory Theater. "Purely mercenary," she'd said. "Maybe it'll give me a leg up during auditions.")

She made a disgruntled scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

"Fuck, don't remind me. I actually gotta go to bed a reasonable hour now."

"Don't worry." Mary winked at her. "I'll keep ya honest."

"That sounds a lot like my head in a toilet, Mare."

"I'll hold your hair back."

She gave him a good-natured shove, and he pretended to cower.

If she wanted to cross pollinate, who was Mary to stand in her way? So, he invited her out the next time the Deathbutantes went to a show, and it went exactly like he thought it would.

They disliked her, and she was equally unimpressed. They thought she was too loud and frenetic, and she thought they had no sense of humor.

"I fucking told you," Mary had snorted as they sat on the curb sharing a clove.

"Shut the fuck up, Mare."

But she'd put her head on his shoulder.

"They make you happy, though. So I guess I approve. Just as long as I don't have to play nice."

Mary still hung out with the Rocky crew—there were still game nights and drug-fueled sex parties and theater games—but the Deathbutantes introduced him to the underground scene. They always seemed to have insider knowledge about the best up-in-coming bands and the secret shows. Theme nights at the goth clubs were always a must, and they rarely missed one. Sometimes, Angelique would crash, and they'd take the commuter rail to Providence to party at Club Hell before collapsing in a sweaty, smeary pile at a friend of a friend's hole in the wall.

As a bit player in the Rocky crew, Mary had been another made-up face in the crowd. As a certified member of the Deathbutantes, Mary became the face.

They all did.

The owners loved them because they bought round after round at the bar, and if word got out that the Deathbutantes were there, their admirers came to spend money as well. The employees loved them because they were fun and talked to them as equals. The clientele loved them because they were pretty young things.

Sometimes, though, Mary wasn't in the mood to party or get laid, so he talked to the DJs instead. He'd buy them rounds and stay past closing to help them pack up while they talked about the history of punk and 80s new wave and nu metal. There was one in particular, Dave, that Mary even considered a friend.

The two of them would sit in the club past closing, sharing a whiskey and talking about life while the bartenders closed down and cashed out. Occasionally, Dave's other friends would be around, and they'd all walk back to his place; he'd fool around spinning in his home studio, and they'd drink box wine as they danced and laughed before Mary would have to sit on the ground in an intoxicated exhaustion, good for only thumbing through Dave's vinyl collection.

Mary was just happy to talk shop with another music aficionado, but Angelique had pointed out that he should leverage his minor clout.

They'd been waiting for Greg to finish setting up, and Mary had been struggle city after a particularly hard night out. It was all he could manage to sit there quietly and hope some god would put him out of his misery.

"You need to get your shit together," Angelique had said out of nowhere.

Mary had cracked a puffy eye and had slowly (as to not bring the nothing in his stomach back up) turned his head to her.

"As if I haven't seen your melted ass on the floor wanting to die."

"Fuck, Mary. You've turned it into an art form."

He'd closed his eyes and given her the finger, but that hadn't stopped her.

"You wanna be a rockstar, boy? You can't just sit on your ass and hope the right person on the right night hears you. You're effervescent and charismatic—heads turn when you walk into a room and not just because of your skinny jeans—but you need more than air, Mary, which is all you are right now."

"Fuck you, Angela."

She'd clapped in front of his face, and she was lucky he didn't Exorcist bile all over her.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, Goore. I'm doling out the good stuff, try not to bite my hand off, k?"

"All right, all right!"

"You wanna start that band? You wanna get play and amass fans? Well, make that demo you're always droning on about and give it to those DJs you're alway fanboying over. Fucking network, Goore."

At the time, Mary had been too hungover to care, but her advice would sink in…

Eventually.

For the time being, Mary was content. He loved the attention, and it made him feel invincible, made him feel like it was finally His Time. And he was going to make up for every slight, every unfair situation, and every beat down with sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.

With his newfound nightlife, Mary's day job had become an afterthought. He started sleeping through opening shifts, but with the extra foot traffic Mary brought to the store, his boss seemed resigned to let Mary slide (after a stern talking to and a pay docking).

The shadow cast had started using him as a mascot of sorts, and he was happy to show up on Saturday nights and hype up the waiting line with a pseudo striptease. (Even if it was sometimes to kick off his evening with the Deathbutantes and not hang with the cast after.)

Mary started a band ("auditioning" any and all of the many admirers who said they’d be more than happy to join it), and after a few false starts and a couple of lineup changes, they began working on an EP. (At least, when Mary showed up to rehearsal, they did.)

A Boston Phoenix reporter got wind of the Deathbutantes and called around about doing a story on them. The Bens were excited about the exposure that meant for their zine, and Angelique and Greg were excited about what it could mean for their careers. Mary did a brief interview over the phone where he answered questions about his style and talked about his dream of making his band a household name.

Mary saw his name up in lights, and he was reaching for it, full speed ahead.

But then things turned.

The story fell through at the last minute with no further explanation or contact by the reporter.

His boss finally fired him after Mary showed up too high to function too many times—or not at all.

The shadow cast had a turnover, and suddenly he was old news—a cringey hanger-on.

A trip to the clinic and a round of antibiotics for an STI had him way more wary of who he hooked up with.

"Heroes" lost momentum when imitators popped up and Ben cut off the gravy train.

Angelique moved to NYC for "better opportunities," and the Bens took their brand of counterculture to Portland, OR.

Greg took down the website when he got offered a legit job as an apprentice at a food magazine, and that was that.

The physical zines were cheap things, most ending up papering the sidewalk after trash day or lining the bottom of cages. Without the online presence, did Mary's "modeling career" even exist?

Mary was a little sad to see the era go, but when he woke up in Maine on the hood of some girl's car and only a hazy recollection of how they'd gotten there, he was beginning to see Angelique's point. He needed to get his shit together if he was ever going to become a rockstar. And frankly, he kind of felt like he needed to spend an entire month eating carrots and hydrating.

The 24/7 party had always been an ephemeral thing; it had been sand passing through his hands in a finite amount as he'd tried to hold onto it

He put himself on detox, and waking up sober for the first time in months felt like a revelation. And as it turned out, playing the guitar without badly shaking hands was way, way easier.

He found another job in another music store, and his starter!band was bringing butts into the smaller venues, like Toad.

He still had his old Rocky friends and the Deathbutantes. The club and venue owners still let him in for free, and Dave was always happy to give his demos a spin. By anyone's else's measure, he was steal one of the scene's darlings.

But Mary was beginning to realize that he needed to stop seeing himself as that scared kid who’d arrived in Boston 4 years ago with only a backpack, $72.57 to his name, and void where his family should be.

He needed to stop finding people to please into loving him.

Instead, he needed to live for himself and let them love him for who he was—fuck ups and all.

@slimylayne

Epilogue

"Honestly, that’s probably the reason I even got a band together," he says. "I was still kind of shit at guitar, but people came to see ‘Model Mary’ perform in his underwear."

He shoots me a smirk.

"I’m sure there’re pictures out there of me looking more glam than metal. I kind of played up the whole pinup thing for a while."

"Fuck, I would kill, literally kill to see that."

He pulls me into his lap until I’m straddling him.

"I could open up my underwear drawer and show you right now."

"Goore, you temptress."

I lean down to kiss him, and his hands sneak under my shirt, but I pull away again.

"I kinda thought I knew all your torrid secrets by now. Shit, how come Dave's never needled you about it?"

After 2 years with him, I’m surprised I hadn't even heard a peep from his oldest friend.

Mary snorts.

"Dave would miss shit hanging off his nose. Great dude, amiable as fuck, but he's always had fucking tunnel vision for his music."

I smirk at him.

"Sounds like someone else I know."

Mary pulls a face at me, and I apply kisses to every line until he laughs and bats me away.

"But really, Mare—how come you never told me about your brief career in blue steel?"

He blows out a breath, his hands smoothing up my thighs.

"Fuck. Cuz maybe I was a little embarrassed at how off the rails I was then, ok? Didn't want you to know what I fuck up I was." He takes my hand and kisses my palm. "And even I know it's a shit move to pitch woo at someone by telling them about banging half of Boston."

I make a face at him, and he laughs.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought."

His hands rest on my waist.

"Christ, everything about that year's a bit fuzzy, and it was like 10 years ago. Sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else, honestly. And shit—most of those people aren’t even around anymore. College kids who moved on and 20-somethings that grew up and moved who knows where. I used to watch Amber have—what is it when it’s four people?—and now she lives in bumblefuck Pennsylvania with 3 kids. After she left, I just kinda drifted away from all that."

He shrugs, his eyes downcast.

"I’m sorry, Mare," I say as I smooth his eyebrows.

He shrugs again.

"I mean, we all kinda keep in touch. It's like the only reason I have Facebook."

"When was the last time you even signed into that?"

Mary grins at me.

"Lola's birthday."

"One of the models? What happened with them?"

Mary bites his lip and thinks.

"Mayhem found religion after an OD and kinda ghosted everyone. Lesley followed a girl to New Hampshire. Uh…Lola pursued a PhD for something sciencey involving renewable energy with sugar beets in Idaho, and Bryan moved back to Florida to care for his grandma, who raised him."

Mary leans his head back on the couch and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I mean, shit. We were fucking babies back then. Head empty except for a good time and unlimited potential."

I run my fingers through his hair.

"You miss it?"

His eyes pop open to look at me.

"Fuck no. Not for a million dollars. Too many question marks." His eyes glint as he runs his hands down me. "I like what I got going on right here."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss his forehead. The fucking sap.

Mary picks up my phone and scrolls through the pictures again.

"Fuck. I used to be goddamn adorable, though. Half this shit wouldn’t even fit me anymore."

I squish his little potbelly, and he grunts at me indignantly.

"Do you still have any originals?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wistful and his smile sad.

"Nah. Got destroyed when my roof collapsed and leaked everywhere. Fuck, landlords are useless. Glad we fucking own now, babe."

He scrolls up, scrolls back down.

"Just these four?"

I nod.

"Yeah. They were the only ones I found—and I did a lot of searching."

"Christ, I think there were at least 10."

I smile ruefully at him. "It’s not gonna be long anyway before they make their way into the popular tags and shit starts coming out of the woodwork."

He tosses my phone onto the table.

"Whatever. Just shows that I’ve always been cool."

And then he’s kissing me again, his hand tangling in my hair.

"You know, I’m your family now, Mare. Just for you."

He brings my hand up and kisses it.

"Fuck, I know that. Why’dja think I put a ring on it?"

[elareine]

fem jaytim + fake dating, please? thanks ♡

Thea’s coming out had been a bit of a disaster. Yeah, it had been her own choice, but… let’s just say that the studios’ reactions had been mixed, and so had been the one of her fans. She could have dealt without the accusations about her past relationships with men being fake, thank you very much. 

Fact was that there was this invisible line drawn between her and other people. It had always been there, but her statement had exacerbated the matter, Thea felt. Even in her family, Dick seemed to be the only one openly supportive and never afraid to dole out hugs when she needed them. 

Dick was in Europe on location, though. Thea was facing the prospect of a movie premiere all alone. 

She had no intention of skipping it; this movie was important to her, and she was a professional. The press game was almost as much part of her job as the acting. Stiiiill. It was gonna suck so much, wasn’t it? 

The buzzing of the phone saved her from burying her head in her hands at the thought. 

Still, she had no intention of picking it up (let these assholes figure it out for themselves) until she saw the caller ID, and then she couldn’t move fast enough. “Hey, Jay.”

“Hey.” There was a chuckle on the other end of the line. “How’re you holding up?” 

“As long as I don’t check Twitter? Fine.” 

Jay hummed sympathetically. “You got a premiere at Grauman’s tonight, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Thea swallowed. “Really not looking forward to it, if I’m honest.” 

“Let me go with you,” Jay suggested. “We could be girlfriends.” 

“What?” 

Thea knew that Jay was out, of course, though she couldn’t have told you when exactly that happened. Possibly the cliché of a six-foot-one woman with short hair and flannel shirts had taken care of that for Jay. 

“I could go with you to your premiere, as your girlfriend. If you wanted.” Jay sounded way too casual for what she was suggesting. 

…oh. That was because it wasn’t real. Jay must’ve read the press and was offering her solidarity as a fellow queer, single woman. Thea tried not to be too disappointed. Really, it was a kind gesture. “You would do that?” 

“Yes, Thea.” 

“Okay. Yes, uh, I would like that, thank you.” 

Jay laughed. “Awesome.” 

“Uh, we’ll pick you up on the way?” 

“It’s fine; I know I live the opposite way. I’ll just get a taxi and meet you there.” 

Luckily, hair and make-up kept Thea occupied for the following four hours, or she would’ve likely torn her own hair out. As it was, she barely had time for fretting before she was scarfing down a meal and laced into her dress. And then it was time to go. 

When she climbed out of the car, Thea spent a minute making sure her skirts were all sitting correctly and covering the significant bits. She’d loved the ballerina-inspired dress the moment she saw it, but it could go from ‘risky’ to ‘porn model’ with one wrong movement. 

“Hey, Thea.” 

Smiling, Thea looked. “Hi, Jay—“ 

Jesus. Jay was wearing a suit. That—for some reason, Thea had not expected that. Usually, the older woman was one for casual wear, no matter the event. It was a lot to take in for Thea’s poor brain. 

It took her a moment to notice that Jay was talking. “—sure?” 

“Huh?”

Jay nodded toward the gaggle of reporters trying to wave them over. “You sure you wanna talk to them?” 

“That’s what we’re here for, right?” Thea asked, trying to smile. 

Jay threw her an odd look but reached out to take her hand. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.” 

Thea was distracted enough by the feeling to not even mind when the cameras started flashing as soon as they approached. 

“Today, we will see you star in a romantic comedy, but it seems you have found some love of your own,” the first reporter asked. “How did you two meet?” 

Jay answered before Thea could. “Oh, we have the same mentor, you know. Even though we specialize in different genres, our paths have actually crossed quite often.” 

A second reporter interjected: “And now, you two are dating?” 

“Yes.” Jay let go of Thea’s hand, only to pull her in by her waist. Thea couldn’t help but melt into her, her own hand coming up to clutch the fabric of Jay’s suit jacked by instinct. Like this, even the reporters seemed almost friendly. 

“Is that a new development?” Is she the reason you’re out?

It felt wrong that her first public relationship with a woman would be the actual fake one. Well. On Jay’s side, Thea reassured herself. She herself wasn’t lying, was she? 

So she leaned forward and said into the mic: “Yes and no. I have admired Jay for a long time. She’s an amazing artist and an even better friend, honest and just so funny. I couldn’t believe it when she called me.” 

The mic moved toward Jay. “You asked her out?” 

“Yeah, I have eyes.” Jay’s answer was utterly deadpan and startled everyone into a laugh. “I never thought I had a chance until Thea came out, and even then… it’s still pretty unbelievable that she said yes.” 

“Of course I did,” Thea told her immediately. The smile that Jay gave her in reply was so smitten, in once more confirmed why she was one of the great actresses of their generation. 

Then the older woman cleared her throat. “Anyway, we’re here about a movie. Questions about that, please.” 

Once they had dealt with all the questions and were safely inside the theater, Thea squeezed Jay’s hand where it was still gripping her hip. “Thank you.” 

“Anytime,” Jay murmured, and, after a quick glance around, pressed a quick kiss into her hair. “You do look beautiful, by the way.” 

Thea was pretty sure she would never stop blushing, and the evening was just getting started.

Usually, a showing like this meant endless self-criticism—she could’ve been a little more on beat here, her accent slipped there, her timing was atrocious—but tonight? Tonight she concentrated on the way laughter shook its way through Jay’s body, how the taller woman played with her hair in quiet moments and how she kissed Thea’s hair after her Big Emotional Scene in what was quickly becoming Thea’s favorite gesture. 

They walked out arm-in-arm, chatting with various film critics and Thea’s co-workers. Thea felt drunk in a way that had nothing to do with champagne. So much touch in one evening… 

It had to end eventually, though. The car was already waiting for her when they exited the theater through the backdoor. 

A little desperate, Thea asked: “Let me drive you home?” The touches would stop as soon as they were out of sight, she knew, but she didn’t want to be alone just yet. 

“Sure thing, darlin’.” 

Jay slid into the seat right and?? She was still holding Thea close? Still pulling her against Jay’s warm body, still touching her tenderly, still looking at her like that—

“There are no photographers here,” Thea whispered. 

“No, there aren’t.” Jay seemed to take that for an entirely different cue than it was because she tipped Thea’s chin up and pressed an excruciatingly gentle kiss to her lips. 

“I wasn’t lying, you know, I’ve been wantin’ this,” she murmured when they pulled away, and oh, Thea was such a dumbass. Jesus. 

“Me, too.” Finally, finally, she allowed herself to pull the other woman in by that thrice-damned tie, kissing her again because this—this was just for them.

(I’m taking prompts until the end of the year.)

[ilovefandoms102]

Part 4-Shape of My Heart

Pairing: Rudy Pankow x Plus Size Reader

Summary: Falling in love with someone you can never have is the worst feeling in the world...

Taglist:

@jeyramarie​ @drewswannabegirl​ @teamnick​ @jiaraendgame​ @agirlwholovescoffee​ @outerbongs​ @jaxxandcomet​ @velyssaraptor​ @baby-pogue​ @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @must-be-a-weasley-92​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @ma10427​ @ifilwtmfc​ @lasnaro​ @justcallmesams​ @judayyyw​ @lonely-kermit​ @gviosca​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @fernweh-fangirl​ @runway-to-my-aid @eb15​ @hurricane-abigail​ @tangledinsparkles​ @fandom-phaser​ @sunwardsss​ @http-cherries​ @bibliophilewednesday​ @evaporatedrosepetals​ @thetomatosaucee​ @tomatosauceagent​​

Part 3 Part 5

Note: Thank you guys so much for all the positive feedback on everything! I feel so inspired to write and I have SO many ideas I can’t wait to put out!! Hope you guys enjoy and as always let me know what you think!

==============================

LA clubs were no joke....

The lights were so bright, it almost looked like it was still daytime. People were wrapped around the building waiting to get in. Our group took a special entrance in, Maddie B and C dancing while walking in. They drug me with them, and I couldn’t help but dance along with them. As we were waiting to get our ID’s checked, Rudy wrapped his arms around me. He rocked me back and forth to the beat, both of us singing loudly. 

It might have been my imagination, but I swear I heard Elaine scoff in disgust. I paid no mind to it, Rudy and I were just good friends. She could have him, it’s not like he’d ever want someone that looked like me anyways. 

A round of shots was ordered for all of us, cheering before slugging it back. I felt the effects immediately, the warm feeling shooting through my entire body. While the boys argued over who was going to be put on the tab, I walked further down the bar to order another shot. After I ordered myself a drink, handing the bar tender the cash before walking back to my friends. Rudy whipped his head in my direction, a quizzical look on his handsome face.

“Where did you go?” he asked, eyeing the drink in my hand.

“You all were taking too long,” I shrugged, sipping my drink.

“You’re so impatient.” he rolled his eyes. 

“Y/n come on! Let’s bust a move!” Maddie C shouted while doing an over exaggerated version of the Charleston. 

I downed the rest of my drink, handing my glass to Rudy as I followed the girls out to the dance floor. We had danced to a few songs before the guys eventually joining us, Rudy and Drew making a show of their sweet moves(note the sarcasm). A more provocative song started playing, the girls and I getting more into it. I felt arms around my hips, whipping my head around to see an attractive dude smiling at me. I decided to go with it, the girls nodding at me.

 I normally wouldn’t dance with guys since it made me a tad uncomfortable, but with the drinks I had it blurred those emotions. I felt eyes burning into me as I moved to the music. I looked around to find Rudy with a very unhappy look on his face. I played it off as his protectiveness over a random dude grabbing on to me, not thinking it could be what I wanted it to be. Elaine tried dragging his attention to her, but he paid it no mind as he stared daggers at where the mans hands sat on my waist. 

Maddie B and C were both trying to encourage me to dance on this man, obviously trying to rile up Rudy. I shook my head at them, Maddie C nodding intently. Drew busted into our circle, handing everyone another shot, I downed it the second he handed it to me. My brain became hazier as I felt my anxiety of dancing with a complete stranger fade away. I started to get more into the song, dancing without a care in the world. Cheers erupted as the song ended, giggles coming from the girls and I. 

The next song came on, the guy pulling me further into him. I felt the guys hand’s leave me suddenly, I turned to see Rudy giving him a death stare. I looked confusedly at Rudy who grabbed a hold of me, hearing Maddie B and C cackle in the background. The guy scurried off, Rudy pulling my back to his front. I turned my head to raise a brow at him, he leaned down towards my ear.

“He looked funny,” he said, shouting over the music.

“You’re ridiculous.” I laughed, nevertheless still continuing to dance with him. 

The girls gave me a thumbs up when Rudy wasn’t looking, I flipped them off in return. Rudy twirled me around on the dance floor, taking me into his arms with an enormous grin on his face. We danced to a few more songs before he dragged me back with him to the bar, ordering us more drinks.

“So, how do you feel about your first LA club?” he grinned, clanking our glasses together before taking a sip.

“It’s pretty intense, they definitely don’t go this hard back home.” I giggled, feeling a presence behind me. 

“Rudy, you promised me a dance!” Elaine pouted, grabbing on to his bicep.

“I think I’m danced out El,” he admitted.

“Don’t be such an old man, y/n will be fine right?” she eyed me, obviously wanting some quality time with the man.

“Yeah go on, I’m just going to stay right here.” I shrugged, Rudy looking like he really didn’t want to go with her. 

“Alright,” he sighed, Elaine tugging him with her. 

He glanced back at me, worry in his eyes. I held my drink up, a promise that I wasn’t going anywhere. I sat alone, sometimes one of the Maddie’s or Drew would come check on me. I drank way more than I should have, a feeling of dread taking over me. I started feeling sick, my stomach feeling queasy. I rubbed my forehead, the air around me becoming way too hot. Thankfully, Rudy came back. He noticed my discomfort immediately.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, coming closer to me.

“Sick,” I slurred, his form blurry.

“Do you want to go?” he questioned, a nod coming from me. 

He held on to me as I stumbled out of the club, leading me to his car. He opened the door for me, I sat down my legs still hanging on the outside. I put my head down, nausea creeping up the back of my throat. Rudy crouched in front of me, moving my hair out of my face.

“Queasy?” he guessed.

“I think I drank way too much.” I chuckled, my speech still slightly slurred.

“Now I feel bad for leaving you alone.” he pouted.

“Don’t be silly Ru,” I said. 

“You gonna be alright for the ride home baby?” he asked, a warm feeling traveling through me at the name. 

“I think so,” I sighed, sitting back in the passenger seat.

=================================

We made it back to Chase’s house, thankfully there was no vomiting on the way there. I trekked up the stairs, stumbling my way to my room. Rudy sat on the bed as he watched me gather my stuff to take a shower. He quirked a brow, eyeing me as I made my way to the bathroom.

“Why don’t you just wait to take a shower when you wake up. I don’t want you to fall.” he suggested, getting up to follow me. 

“I can’t sleep unless I feel clean, not even when I’m drunk.” I admitted, setting up everything.

“If you’re not out in 30 minutes, I’m coming in here to sit with you.” he declared.

“Um,” I mumbled, not sure how to respond.

He walked out before I could however, leaving me to my thoughts. I stripped quickly, or as quick as I could. I managed to not fall getting in, holding on the wall when everything started turning upside down. I had to take my time washing my hair since when I would lean my head back, my whole body wanted to follow. I scrubbed my face and body clean, waiting for my conditioner to rinse out. 

“It’s been 30 minutes babe,” Rudy barked, startling me.

“Jesus Rudy! You scared to shit out of me.” I exclaimed, raking my hands through my hair.

“Are you about done?” he questioned, taking a seat on the toilet lid. 

“Yes, can you go away now? I need to get changed.” I huffed, turning the water off.

I grabbed the towel from the hook, drying myself off. I wrapped my hair up in another towel, waiting for Rudy to leave.

“I’ll turn around.” he grumbled.

“Ru,” I groaned.

“I’m not leaving and that’s final.” he griped.

“You irritate me,” I growled, poking my head out from behind the curtain. 

He turned around so I could get out, crossing his arms over his chest. I changed quickly, giving him the ok to turn back. He watched me intently as I did my nightly routine, occasionally asking me why I used what and what it was for. I laughed when he would inspect something intently, reading everything on the product. I made my way back to my room, collapsing on the bed. Rudy laid down beside me, watching as I got comfy.

“Can I stay here with you?” he whispered, a hopeful gleam in his blue eyes.

“I don’t care,” I yawned, closing my eyes. 

He cheered, stripping his shirt before getting under the blankets with me. I felt him scoot closer to me, I cracked one eye open to look at him. He smiled as he laid his head on the pillow next to mine. 

“Night Ru,” I said softly.

“Sweet dreams baby,” he yawned, closing his eyes.

[eerythingisshaka]

Birthday

[Chris Evans x Reader]

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N:  a start to the spooky season inspired fics!

Your guests pile into your home for the party of your life.  Another year spun around the sun with many more to come, you saved no expense to ensure your time was spent partying it up as if tomorrow would never come.

The DJ you hired keeps spinning your favorite tracks back to back so you barely have time to make it to the door and greet new guests before your new song would pull your body back to work on that beat with a deep arch in your back.

“Yo, could the host please make they way to the DJ booth please?”

You steady your drink as you snake through the vibrating bodies that catch the contagious rhythms bumping from the speakers.

You shout in his ear, “Hey, Colgate!  What’s up?”

He makes a quick song transition with air horns before answering.  “I heard somebody was finna call the cops cuz of the noise.  Are we about to wrap this thing up or what?”

You look through the crowd suspiciously but the DJ calls your attention.

“It ain’t no one here, it’s a neighbor.”

You nod, “I know.  I figure.  But no, we won’t be stopping a damn thing tonight.  Let them come!  It’s my fucking birthday, so play that shit loud and fuckin turn up!”

The DJ shrugs, turning the beat up even louder and letting the bass boom through structure holding your house together.  This night would not be interrupted for no one if you had anything to do with it,   

As you gulp the last of your drink, you feel like something is off, holding your head as your mind starts to get hazy.  

“Hey girl, there’s someone at the door for you.  You want me to get rid of him?” a friend of your offers.

You shake your head, taking a deep breath.  “No, no.  I can handle it.  I kind of expected it in a way.”

They nod.  “Ok.  Don’t bite off more than you can chew.  You know what to do if you need anything.”

You thank them, heading for the front door.  When you step outside, the cool air wafts around you as you look around and see him standing in the driveway, hands in his pockets and head hung low looking over at you.

You cross your arms up defensively, refusing to take his puppy dog eyes as a means to soften our heart.

“I thought we broke up,” you start.

“”Is that what I said?”  he asks, feigning confusion as he grips his chin in thought.  “I don’t recall those exact words.”

You stand your ground. “SO what are you doing here Chris?  You came to make a fool of me some more on my night?”

He takes a turn at crossing his arms.  “Now I made a fool of you?  Sweetheart, no one felt more like a fool in our relationship than me.”

You scoff, standing in front of him from a distance now.  “Well that’s what every girl wants to hear.  I made my man look foolish to be with me, ladies and gentlemen!”

“You know what I mean!  Stop twisting my words!”  Chris exclaims.

“The day that what you say makes sense is the day I stop twisting them around, as you say.”  You look him up and down with disdain before rolling your eyes.

Chris takes a deep breath looking towards your house.  “You got a big party going on in there.”

You shrug.  “It’s a milestone, so I wanted to make it special.  No one else was going to do it for me.”

“If you gave me another chance, I could do that for you, but you won’t give me a chance.”

“What chance is there to give!”  You shout out loud, your voice carries down the block.   “You don’t want the life I live Chris.  You made that abundantly clear that night of the full moon?  You looked at me like I was a monster when all I ever wanted was for you to accept me and you tricked me into believing that was possible.”

“Can you blame me for being caught off guard?  I thought that you were going to tell me you were a virgin or a recovering alcoholic, but then you go and-”

You hold a hand up.  “Shut up!”

Chris claps his hands in frustration, testing his body away from you with disbelief.   “That’s what I’m saying!  How can you make an assumption of me when you won’t let me-”

“Shut the fuck up Chris!  Cops are coming.”

He listens.  “I don’t hear…”

A couple seconds pass until the faint squeal of a siren begins to build.

You roll your eyes.  “Dammit!  Dealing with you, I forgot about figuring who the fuck called the police on my party.”

“Goddammit.  I’ll stick around in case of anything.”

You give him a stank look.  “No, you may leave.  You’re dismissed actually.”

“I’m not going anywhere,”  Chris says.

“I don’t care what you do but you have GOT to stay out of my business!  Especially when it is not yours anymore.”

“It will be my business,”  he says under his breath but you catch every word.  You see the red and blue light bouncing off the neighborhood surroundings and prepare yourself for the confrontation.  As a squad car pulls up, they silence the siren and step out of the car.  Two white men step out, hand near their comfort zone.

“What’s going on here tonight?”  one asks.

Chris starts the conversation.  “Hey guys, it’s my girl’s birthday tonight and we just decided to have a night with some friends to celebrate.”

“Ahh.  How old are we, miss?” he asks.

Chris parts his lips before shutting them quickly to look to you.

“A lady never tells their age, sir,”  you say with a chill tone.

He smiles at his partner, who looks less amused.  “I guess if I ask for some ID that would clear that notion up, wouldn’t it?”

Chris starts again, “Officer, is there a reason you’re questioning her?  For God sakes, it’s her birthday!”

“Chris, be quiet,”  you hiss at him.

The officer puts his hand on his gun but not out of the holster.  “We have every power to question anything we expect to be suspicious.”

“Thing?”  you whisper to yourself.

“We will quiet down, if you’re here to warn us, that’s no problem.  Sound good?”  Chris offers.

The officer remains steadfast.  “I already asked for an ID.  If I ask twice I will consider this a resisting.”

“You’re damn right it’s resisting.  This is a joke,”  Chris retorts.

“Chris, if you say another fucking word, I’ll your tongue out myself!  Officers!”  You demand their attention as you speak to them slowly.  “The music is not loud enough to hear from the street and therefore your time is being wasted here.  Please go back to your cars and resume your evening elsewhere.”  

They stand frozen for a few seconds before taking a relaxed stroll back to their vehicle and driving away.  You take a deep exhale, hearing the music in the house pause.  You look to your house and see a few people standing outside the door.

“Everything good, madam?”  one asks.

“It’s fine!  Thanks for checking!”  you call back with a wave.

“Shame, I was hoping for a dinner party.  Is he part of it?”

You look back to Chris, who still seems to be doing mental math.  “No, not the dinner part, anyway.”

“Ugh!  You never share!”  They slam the door and commence the party in full force.

When you turn back to Chris he starts to work it out.

“Does this have anything to do with what you said on our date during the full moon?”  Chris asks slowly.

“Kind of, yes,”  you say hesitantly.

“They all know?”  he asks.

“They all are a part of my brood so, they definitely know.”

Chris goes quiet, nodding and looking off at the ground.  The sickening feeling you got earlier comes rushing back as you start to walk away, but his hand grips your arm quickly.

“What are you doing?”

“Going back to my party,” you say, ripping your arm loose.  “People who understand me are there.”

“And I don’t?  I just came over here to make amends and seen you mind control two fucking cops to go away and I’m still here!”

“Then why did you react that way before?”  you ask quietly.

Chris fumbles with his jacket nervously.  “I never wanted to let you go for something that is essentially who you are.  You trusted me enough to show me and I want to be receptive.  It just caught me off guard, but I wasn’t going to reject you.  You rejected me, remember?”

You turn away.  Despite him being human, his eyes had a pull that could knock you off your feet if you focused on them.  Chris tries to catch your gaze, bending down in front of you.

“Yes, I did.  And maybe I...got scared too,” you say, kicking a shoe in the dirt.

Chris snickers, opening his arms wide.  “Happy birthday, babe.”

You look up at him with annoyance, all while falling into his chest as his big arms wrap around your back for an uplifting bear hug.

“If you’re here for my birthday, where is my gift?” you look up at him patiently.

He loosens his grips on you while he thinks.  “Does an ex get his ex a present on her birthday?”

You nod.  “I like presents from my exes.  They are truly the best gifts.”

Chris chuckles.  “So if I don’t want to be an ex anymore…”

“...then you owe me a big gift, yes.  What’s not clicking?”  you snort laughing in his face as you push him back.

Chris sits back on his car.  “How about this.  If you kiss me and you still want to be my ex, I will give you whatever big gift you want.”

“Anything?  Be specific, because I’m sure you have a budget.”

“Ouch!”  he holds the left side of his chest in theatrical pain.  “No, I mean anything you want.”

You meander his way, holding your hands in front of you.  “I started this night with every intention of forgetting your face and every memory attached to it.”

“That can still be arranged,” Chris says in a snide tone.

You rest your hands on the hood of his car, right on either side of his thighs.  You closed the distance between the two of you so fast, he caught himself with his elbow before falling directly backward.

“But I will play your game if in the end I am getting something I want out of it,” you whisper into his face.

He takes one side of your face, eyes twinkling with cautious care as he pulls you into him, resting your mouth on his.  His smell, his touch, his lips welcoming yours made you buckle over him as you slowly melted on top of him.  Your leg half straddles him as your hands push into his chest, submitting himself to the weight of your body as he deepens the kiss.  You feel your passion building as you search under his shirt for the warmth of his skin and he could provide but stop abruptly looking down at him as he smiles.

“And?”  he asks.

You take a pregnant pause, pulling your hand from under his shirt.  “I don’t feel anything.”

Chris’ face screws up.  “What?”

You stammer, “I mean...I don’t want to get back with you.  I really don’t.”

Chris’ eyes roll back in frustration.  “Then what do you want?”

You cup his face, sliding your hand down his well trimmed beard and over his Adam’s apple.

“I just want you to look me in the eyes...and relax your neck.”

Chris stares at you a moment, gaze glazing over as your directive reaches him.  You feel his muscles relax under you as his heart rate slows under your fingertips.

“I’m sorry this one will have to show, but just assume it is a cut from shaving.”  You unhinged your mouth as you sink your fangs into his neck, enjoying the hot flow of his rich blood filling you up.  He gasps, gripping your waist at first from the initial puncture then letting out a long labored groan as his strength is drained.

When you finish, you lick the remnants from his neck, kissing his wound for good measure as you sit up satisfied.

“You’ll wake up in 5 minutes, go home and sleep.  When you wake up, you’ll meet me at a park for the first time and we will go out on a date.”

You slide off of him, looking at him with pity.  Such a big man taken down yet again by you.

“You’re still keeping him alive?”  A voice from the house calls.

You smile down at the unconscious Chris.  “I like him.  He’s fun.”  You look back at your partymate.  “You’re just mad you can’t keep a supply for yourself like me!”

They hiss at you.  “You are so tired.  I like my meal hot and fresh while you’re stuck on last week’s leftovers, who will only become more obsesses with you, the more you feed if you recall!  Happy 290th by the way!”

Just then Chris began to stir.  You trot your way back to the house, checking back at Chris one last time from your front door.  You swear next time you’ll treat him better.  Too bad he tastes so good.

[axwalker]

Tears in Heaven 2: Falling

Synopsis: Alexis O’Brien is about to get married but memories of her old life are coming back to haunt her.

MASTERLIST

Pairings: Liam x MC Drake x MC (TRR)

Warnings:  

NO ONE UNDER 18 should read this story. This is an 18+ blog. This story will deal with very dark subjects such as death, severe depression and suicide attempt (among others) if you’re triggered by any of those issues, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS STORY

A/N: The story will go back and forth between three different periods of time (2009 / 2015 / 2019) 

A/N: In most European countries the legal age to drink is 18, as Cordonia is clearly in Europe, I ‘ll use the same legal age. 

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Word count: 4,600

Songs inspiration: Tears in Heaven by Eric Clapton

THANKS TO:  To  my awesome beta read @pedudley​

And to the beautiful  @burnsoslow​   who beta read the whole scene with Liam. 

I love you both!!

Tagging: 

@mskaneko​ @pedudley​ @burnsoslow​ @pug-bitch​ @lauzales​ @yukinagato2012​ @kingliam2019​ @texaskitten30​ @loveellamae​ @nomadics-stuff​ @flutistbyday2020​ @mrsdrakewalkerblog​ @ladyangel70​ @kimmiedoo5​ @debramcg1106​ @ao719​ @msjr0119​ @ac27dj​  @forthebrokenheartedthings-blog​ 

JUNE 2015

Nine months. Nine months since the ‘accident’. That was how her friends called it: ‘An accident’. The word infuriated her. It implied something so avoidable, something so small and simple. A finger caught in a door, a bad fall, a glass of whiskey spilled on the table. He didn’t have a broken leg, or a soared finger, he was dead. He was never going to come back again, his laughter vanished, his chocolates eyes gone, forever.

She would love to know how her friends called what had happened three months after his death. The day she had lost the last shred of hope she had left.

Every day she repeated the same routine, she woke up, drank, and stayed in bed looking through the window. Some days when the alcohol had numbed her enough, she was able to go through her albums and live in her memories. But most days, she couldn’t bear to see their happy faces, the joyful moments, so she just drank and cried.

Liam, Olivia and Max came every day to check up on her. Sometimes together, sometimes separate. They all had different methods to bring her back to life. None of them worked but they kept trying anyway.

Liam was caring and protective, he tried to make her eat or drink something else besides alcohol. Sometimes he tried to talk some sense into her, others he simply read to her.

Olivia’s approach was more direct, she arrived at the house like a tornado, cleaning the mess and throwing all the wine bottles and pizza boxes in the garbage, disgusted. She scolded her in the hope to see her strong friend fight back, but Alexis had gave up, nothing that Oliva said made her react.

Maxwell was kind and compassionate. He sat with her in silence, rubbing her back or crying with her. He only wanted to make her feel that she wasn’t alone. That he would be there when she was ready.

She knew that deep down she loved them, or that she had loved them once, but there was nothing left anymore for anyone else.

One morning, after yet another sleepless night, Alexis looked at her reflection in the mirror. She barely recognized herself. She touched her face, trying to remember how she looked like only nine months before. Her eyes drifted to the bottle of sleeping pills next to her toothbrush. Her decision was taken. He had died. He had left her. She had no reason to live anymore. That night, when her friends were gone, she would write some good-bye letters and she’ll go to sleep to never wake up again.

Ironically, that was the first day since it all happened that she had something to look forward to.  After Savanah’s birthday, her life had stopped anyway, she was merely finishing the job.

August 2009

Maxwell and Olivia were having coffee after class while they waited for Alexis. When she arrived thirty minutes later, Max frowned, she looked like she wanted to bite someone’s head off.

Instead of greeting them, she threw her bag on the table, almost spilling Olivia’s coffee on her lap.

Olivia growled. “Careful there Alexis! This is Balmain.”

Maxwell rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that you meant to ask Lexie if everything was ok.”

Olivia snorted. “No, I meant to keep my very expensive outfit safe. Thank you very much.” She brushed her hand over her skirt making sure it was still spotless. “but yes tell us what happened to put you in such a dark mood, Alexis.”

“I can’t have coffee with you. Frickin Neville wants me to work tonight. Argh! I had the day off.”

Max looked at his best friend worried “Do you think that he’ll try something like the other night?”

“After all the self-defense classes Olivia has given me? I’d like to see him try” She took one French fry from Maxwell’s plate.

“So? What’s the problem?  More hours mean more money, right?” He seemed confused “You’re always looking for extra hours.”

Olivia wasn’t fooled, she squinted at her friend. “She has a date with Walker.”

Maxwell squeaked. “Blossom!! You have seen him every day since you met him four days ago!”

“I know, Max. I can’t even explain it. He’ like… a drug” She ran her fingers through her head trying to hide her giddiness. “When he kisses me. I can’t even think or…”

Maxwell knew Drake Walker since they were kids, and he was well aware of his reputation. “What did you do last night?”

“We just walked all night, I waited until my father and Cindy were in their room, sneaked out and took him to the cove”

“The one you haven’t even show me?” Max looked hurt.

“I’ll take you next time Max, I swear” She hugged him. “Anyway, we just walked and talked until dawn.” She said leaving out that they had kissed senseless all over the beach.

Olivia feigned to yawn. “Can you please get to the part where you two fuck, all of this is very sweet but is giving me diabetes.”

A crimson blush spread all upon her cheeks. “We actually haven’t done it yet.”

Maxwell almost spilled his coffee. “What? Drake Walker? According to my brother, he’s a man-whore!”

Alexis shrugged. “We have kissed, a lot, but nothing else.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Alexis for Christ sake! Don’t be such a fucking prude!”

Alexis threw her hands in the air “I’m not! I don’t know what he’s waiting for.” She checked her watch “Fuck! I’ll be late!”

Maxwell and Olivia exchanged an amused look. “When had you been on time before?”

She flipped them off and ran to catch the bus.

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

It was a calm, summer night so the college pub where she worked wasn’t busy, only two tables and some guys hanging out in the bar with Dany, her coworker.

She checked her phone for the third time that night and sighed disappointed, he hadn’t answer to her text cancelling their date.

Lost in her thoughts, she barely heard the tinkling of the bell hanging above the front door. When she finally turned her head, she saw Drake standing next to it, looking at her.

Her heart immediately skipped a beat. “Hi, stranger. What are you doing here?”

He cut the distance between them in two steps, took her in his arms and kissed her. “I’ve missed that.”

She played with the collar of his shirt, inebriated by the smell of sandalwood. “Me too, Drake.”

If he was completely honest, not only he had missed her, but he had been incapable of thinking about anything else all day, and at that moment seeing her so beautiful, with her bright eyes looking so intently at him, he was about to melt. He kissed her again.

“I can’t go out tonight, though. I have to close the place.” She said softly still fluttered by his kiss.

He didn’t want to come out to strong but decided to be honest anyway. “I did get your text, Lex, I just don’t like the idea of you walking at night and taking the bus alone so late.”

She shrugged, she was used to it. “I’ve been doing it the whole year, Drake. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, just let me help you a little.” He brushed her face with his fingers. “I can come get you when you work late, and we can spend more time together.”

She looked at him touched, besides Max who gave her a ride whenever he could, no one else cared how she got back after a nightshift.  “Thank you.”

“Waitress!”

“Shit! I have to work. Wait for me at the bar, Daniel is actually pretty funny.” She winked. “and he knows his whiskey.”

She hurried to the table that was calling her. A group of college girls desperate to use their new ID’s. The rest of the night was calm, and Alexis could spare some moments to talk and laugh with Drake while he waited for her.

At one o’clock, they said good-bye to the last clients, Daniel headed home and Drake and Alexis stayed to close the bar.

“So, what do you want me to do?”

She leaned against the counter smiling shamelessly. “Really? You’re going to help me for free?”

He smirked trapping her with his arms against the counter “Who told you it was for free?” he leaned against her and softly kissed her lips. He inhaled her perfume enjoying her soft moans when his kiss became deeper and his fingers wandered all over her hips. “Fuck, you’re so sexy, Alexis”

The phone rang three times until they were able to break contact. She picked up and talked to her boss. When she hung up, they spend the next hour cleaning and sweeping the bar until it was ready to close.

She checked her watch. “I have to be home at three. My father knows at what time I close the bar, and it usually takes me more than an hour to get to the house.”

Drake arched his eyebrows. “So, he doesn’t come to pick you up, but you have a curfew?”

She nodded. “That’s pretty much it. He has a lot of ideas of what a well-behaved young lady can and cannot do.”

Drake was starting to strongly dislike the man.  “Well, we closed the bar way faster.” He encircled her with his arms. “and I’ll take you back in the jeep, so we have one hour for ourselves.” He upped her chin to him and kissed her cheek. “Aren’t you hungry?”

She was starving but it was past midnight, she would eat a bowl of cereal at her house. “Yes, but everything is closed.”

He gave her a conspiratorial look “This classy joint has a kitchen, right?”

She smiled. “Yes”

He offered her his arm. “Well, let’s cook something then.”

The night before, during their walk, she had told him she used to love Mac & Cheese when she was a little girl, so he looked for the ingredients in the pantry.

“Can I help you there, Walker?”

He nodded his head towards a chair. “You were working all night, O’Brien, it’s your turn to sit.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “O’Brien?”

“Well, you haven’t stop calling me Walker since I told you my last name the other night, turnabout’s a fair play.” He winked playfully.

Alexis watched him cook for her. They had spent the last four days getting to know each other, and she had loved every minute of it. She loved how attentive he was, how he seemed to remember every little thing she said. She loved that he walked around looking brooding and angry, but he was the kindest person she had never met. She loved how protected she felt with him, like never before.  

He loved animals, and great books but only liked boring music, he listened too much classic rock, and definitely needed more Latin songs in his playlist. His taste in movies was impeccable though, fan of Harry Potter and Tarantino.

Her mind drifted to the previous night, she shivered thinking about it, about the way he kissed her, desperate, passionate, wild but always a little gentle, she felt like he could read her mind and sensed exactly what she needed better than herself.  

He put two plates with Mac & Cheese in front of her and she clapped happy. “Drake! Mac & cheese! I love it.”

He had never met someone so full of life before, she seemed to enjoy every single minute of her life. He shrugged trying not to think how much he loved that about her. “It’s only pasta, O’Brien.”

“Well, I love it.” She placed her hand over his and he locked his gaze with hers before he leaned to kiss her.

The talked about their lives while they ate. Drake told her about his childhood with Bastien and Savanah. Bastien worked for Constantine, the Duke of Valtoria, one of the most powerful men in the country, and a personal friend of King Godfrey. He worked at their estate all the time, so Drake had practically grown up with Leo and Liam Rhys. Alexis already knew that his father had died protecting the duke and that his mother had left when he was barely twelve years old. She hated the woman.

“I’m sorry she left, Drake.”

“I’m not. She was never a good mother for me or Savvie. Bastien is the only parent I have now.”

She squeezed his hand. He changed the subject, the less he talked about Bianca Walker, the best.

They finished the rest of their meal in silence, both deep in thought. He looked at her and couldn’t help but admire the strength she irradiated, a sort of light she wasn’t even aware she had in her. He had never opened himself so deeply to someone else, not even Liam. If he was honest, she scared him to death, she held too much power over him, he cared for her too much already but seemed incapable to stay away. She woke in him so many…things in such a short amount of time, that it made him feel overwhelmed.

She got up and reached for his plate, but he stood up and pulled it away from her reach. “I'll wash the dishes… you worked all night.”

“And you cooked.” She grinned at him. “we’ll do them together.”

The cleaned the kitchen playing and laughing with each other.

“It’s late now, I should take you home.” Drake sounded disappointed.

She wiggled her brows giving him a mischievous smile. “I have another idea, come on.” She grabbed two tumblers from the kitchen and took his hand guiding him to the cellar under the kitchen.

“Where are we exactly, Lexie?”

“In Walker’s Paradise.” She laughed pointing at all the Whiskey bottles on the floor.

“Isn’t this going to get you in trouble?”

Alexis took a bottle from one of the cabinets and opened it, then she poured the amber liquid into the tumblers.

Drake smiled shaking his head. “You really like trouble, hein? Breaking the rules, out after curfew, all that”

She looped her arms around his neck. “Maybe you make me want to break them.”

He grinned down at her and kissed her. “You’re going to make me blush, O’Brien.”

She chuckled. “That I would love to see.”

They sat on the floor with their backs against the wall, Drake pulled her against him with his arm around shoulders.

He took a sip from his glass. “It’s not bad.”

“I know.” She took a big gulp as well.

Drake looked at her questioningly. “I spilled my guts about my family earlier, but you never talk about yours.”

She fiddled with one of the many bracelets she was wearing. “My father is very religious, very strict but that didn’t stop him from leaving my mom for Cindy. He has a lot of rules and ideas about how I’m supposed to live my life.” She gave a half shrug. “I’m used to it; I just need to get through college and I’m out of there.”

“I may be intrusive here Lex, but why do you need to work? You live in one of the best neighborhoods in Cordonia. I mean, you live next to the Beaumont.”

“Well, first, because my father has a lot of debts. Cindy, his wife, is obsessed to be part of Cordonia’s high society, so she wants to live in the best neighborhood and she only buys designer clothes, or when she can’t its replicas. And second, because my father hates my major, he thinks I’ll end up being a starving writer.” She laughed. “He’s probably right, but I don’t care.”

He shook his head taking her chin with his fingers. “You’ll be whatever you want to be, O’Brien.” He fixed his piercing eyes on hers. “You’re brave and passionate and I have no doubt you will get to be a fantastic writer.”

She blushed. “Thank you.”

She looked adorable when she blushed. He cleared his throat. “How about a toast, Lexie.”

“What’re we toasting to?”

“To the moments in between.” He grinned.

She looked puzzled. “Huh?”

“All the nobles or the people like Cindy or my mother think about are the big events, the banquets, the press events, the grand balls. They don’t even realize that the moments that matter the most are the ones they’re missing. Moments like right now, just the two of us and some cheap whiskey. The ones that really mean something.” He brushed her lips with his thumb. “At least they mean something for me, anyway.”

She rubbed his cheek with the back of her hand “To me too, Drake. More than you can imagine.” She raised her glass. “For the moments in between.”

He grinned. “For the moments in between.”

They both gulped down their glasses. She moved to lay on the floor with her head in his lap. He racked his fingers through her hair, looking down at her eyes, and thinking how much he was enjoying that moment, having her like that, her head casually on his lap.

He lowered his head and crashed his lips with hers, she was still holding her glass so he grabbed it and casually put it next to them, as he laid over her, kissing her more, moving his mouth from her soft lips to her chin, and then lower to her neck. He smelled her perfume and got lost on her. Alexis could barely think, he seemed to be everywhere around her, she felt his warm breath and his teeth softly biting her neck and felt like she was losing all control.

He stopped himself, he wasn’t going to do it there. She was a goddess, she deserved much, much more than a dirty cellar.

“What’s the matter Drake?”

He sat against the wall again but this time he scooped her in his arms and sat her in his lap, she looped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest, still trying to recover her breath.

“I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, O’Brien, but we should wait to be in a better place to do this”

He looked at her, she was four years younger than him. She seemed almost innocent one second and the next one her eyes were black, charged with lust. He cupped her face “Can I ask you something, Lexie? Something personal?” He asked not sure how to address the subject.

She blushed a deep shade of scarlet, guessing exactly what he wanted to know. “If you want to know if I’m a virgin, I’m not. I had a boyfriend the last year of high school.”

He tried to hide the fact that he was jealous of a guy she had dated more than one year ago. “Did you love him?”

“I used to believe that, but” She stopped in her tracks not knowing how to continue. “I don’t know anymore. We had a lot of fun. Everything was very nice.”

He smirked “Nice?”

She stood up angrily leaning her back against the wall. “Yes, nice. Is there a problem with nice, Walker?”

He stood up and pressed her against the wall, roaming her back with his hands, burying his head on her hair, so she’d feel his breath warm, his hoarse voice in her ear “Love is burning, Alexis.” He softly nipped her earlobe as he pressed her even more. She gasped as a million goosebumps appear all over her arms. “Love is consuming.” He kissed the spot between her ear and her neck, and she shivered, the urge for him almost painful. “Love is messy and desperate.” He buried his head even more kissing the nape of her neck “Love is not nice.” He crashed his mouth with her lips again. She was addictive.

JUNE 2015 

Alexis let herself get lost in her memory. That had been the day where she had fallen in love with him. Only five days after meeting him. Hearing his ideas, his views about the world. Seeing him taking care of her, making her feel so deeply safe. And getting lost in him, in his lips, his low voice, in the sandalwood. In the passion they shared for each other. Before closing her eyes and joining him for good, that was the image she’ll take with her. The image of the day she had lost her soul to Drake Walker.

APRIL 2019

Alexis’s eyes got lost in the clouds. She had always loved to fly, especially at that moment where the plane was so high, that the clouds were beneath them and the sun cast its light on them. She didn’t believe in anything, not anymore, but there in the heights, in the middle of the sky, she wondered, if maybe there was an afterlife, if maybe someday she would see him again.

Five years had passed, but the wound was still there, raw and ready to hurt, ready to pull her back to the abyss. She turned to look at Liam sleeping beside her. Now she had someone to fight for.

He had fallen asleep as soon as the plane had left the ground. He had to be exhausted; he worked really hard at making Valtoria the most productive duchy in Cordonia, and yet he managed to always be there for her when she needed him.

She was aware that the only reason he had left in the middle of the negotiations with the biggest export American company was because of her. Because of the date that was coming to haunt her. A warm feeling spread through her chest at the thought of all the things Liam had done for her. She took his hand between hers, careful not to wake him up.

Paris was beautiful in April. Alexis admired the blossoming trees and the warmth, spring light bathing the majestic buildings while they walked hand in hand.

Liam knew that the next weeks were going to get difficult, especially at the beginning of the next month, his birthday, so he wanted to distract her as much as he could, showing her his favorite city. He wasn’t naïve; he knew nothing he did was going to erase that day, but he was going to try and do anything in his power to bring her some joy. After all, they had been friends for nine years and together for almost two; he thought he knew her well enough to know what could make her happy.  

“What would you think if I took you for some macarons?”

She grinned. “I love Ladurée.”

He shook his head, smiling. “See, everyone thinks the best French macarons are those from Chez Ladurée, but they’re the most famous ones. The best ones are the ones prepared by the chef Pierre Hermé.”

“Lead the way then.” She took his arm and they walked together through the Parisian streets. Every now and then, Liam would show her a small boutique or a gallery that he knew she’d enjoy. They passed the Orsay Museum and the Louvre, and he promised her they would go the next day. Alexis was dying to see the impressionist collection. When they crossed the Pont-Saint Michel, he took her to the Quai de Tournelle, the little quay in Paris where dozens of second-hand booksellers sold their finds at small prizes.

Alexis beamed, truly happy for the first time in days. “Li, this is perfect; I can’t imagine the thousands of first editions or old books that are hiding in here.”

His heart swelled, seeing her smiling. “I knew you would like it, my love.”

She stepped up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “I love it.”

After they walked for a while, they finally arrived at the Teahouse, and Alexis had to admit that they were the best macarons she had ever eaten.

“What now, Mr. Frenchman?”

He cupped her face and kissed her. “I have a surprise for you. Just wait here.”

He left her for a moment to prepare his surprise. When he came back a few minutes later, he spotted her leaning against a stone railing overlooking the Seine River. Her expression was clouded, but when she saw him approach her, she broke into a smile.

He cut the distance between them and wrapped her in a tight embrace. She rested her head on his shoulder.

“Are you all right, darling?  He smiled down at her.

“Better now that you’re here, but I can’t stop thinking about everything.”

“I know, Alexis. I’m here now.” He took her hand, joining her at the railing. They spent a long moment holding hands, gazing across the river.

“It’s so quiet,” Alexis said, placing her hair behind her ear “It feels like the whole city is sleeping, like we’re the last humans on earth.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

She shook her head. “No, a little bit of peace is very welcomed.”

“I’m very glad you think so, love. Come here.”

He led her further along the bridge, where she saw a basket sitting on the paving stones. He pulled a small blanket from the basket and spread it out before her.

He saw her astonished expression, so he explained. “I know picnics are not my favorite activity, but I knew you were going to like it. Besides, you’re the one telling me I should be more adventurous.”

She laughed. “I don’t know if a picnic in Paris counts as an adventure, but ...” She caressed his cheek. “You’re right, I love it.”

They settled down on the blanket as he uncorked an expensive bottle of Chateau Margaux, and Alexis pulled some cheeses, bread, and a couple of glasses out of the basket.

“I want to make a toast for us, Lex-“ He cleared his throat. “Alexis, sorry. I forgot.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the mention of her old nickname. “It’s fine, Li. Don’t worry. I just hate to hear it” He took her chin in his fingers and kissed her.

“I know, love. Let’s forget about it. I wanted to toast to us, to our life together”

She raised her glass.

“Thank you for everything.” She looked in his eyes. “I mean everything, Liam. The sacrifice you’re going to make for me.” Her eyes watered. “I can’t believe it.”

He placed his hand on hers. “There’s no sacrifice, love. I’ll do it because I’m crazy about you, and the only thing I want in life is to be with you. I just wish you knew how much I love you, Alexis.”

He stroked her face and kissed her softly, gently caressing her back with his hands.

After a moment of kissing next to the river, they started eating their delicacies.

Liam observed his fiancée, unsure of how to address the subject. “We’re getting married in two months, love.”

She nodded, smiling. “I’m aware of it, Li.”

“So, you’re also aware that you can’t postpone it anymore. We can go together if you want. You need … closure.”

“Do we have to talk about it now?”

“You never want to talk about it, Alexis. It’s time.”

“I promise, I’ll take care of it as soon as we arrive in Cordonia.”

He nodded, unconvinced; she had made him the same promise several weeks ago.

He just hoped that after everything that had happened and the guilt he carried with him every day, he was going to be able to marry her and make her happy for the rest of their lives.

[fictionalarsonist]

Meanie + #1 please!!

「 BAD CHOICES AND NEW BEGININGS — pt.01」

pairing ›_ meanie ; mentions of woncheol ; mentions of seungcheol ⨯ twice nayeon | content ›_angst ; fluff ; mingyu is good at cooking ; mild language ; cheating | rating ›_pg | word count ›_4.3k

―

premise ›_Mingyu had never been in a relationship before, but being with Wonwoo makes him want nothing else but. But, Wonwoo’s too attached to the past and it makes Mingyu’s too uncertain of his place.   ›  One-liners Inspired Drabbles  ― #1. “Sleep in your car if you don’t like it.”

credit to @mingyuistall for beta-reading this for me. ty, hun!

「 ao3 | masterlist | buy me a coffee | commission」

Mingyu rubbed his closed eyelids, his eyes hurt after being focused on that computer screen for so long, trying to see any and every tiny mistake that could possibly be done before he, as the manager of his department, could submit the project to approval. He knows Joshua is particularly sensitive to minor or any mistake, if he would say so himself, the little arrogant prick wants nothing but to give his word of approval after making his own signature adjustments to the project - as the department’s director - before presenting to the higher ups.

The phone ringing beside his keyboard robs his attention partially, causing him to reach his hand towards it and it keeps reading as his lips move with no sound coming out of it. In some illogical way, to Mingyu, mouthing his thoughts as he looks at the project on the screen would mute the sound and help him focus just a little more- Just enough, just a little longer for him to finish this one part… Unfortunately, the persistent sound doesn’t stop, Mingyu grumbled something unintelligible under his breath and glanced at his phone for the first time. Wonwoo’s ID brings a reluctant smile to his face.

“Hey!” Mingyu greets, his voice rather raspy for the lack of use over the last few hours he’s been focused on that computer’s screen.

“Are you busy?” Wonwoo asks at the other end of the line. Mingyu glances back to the computer’s screen with a half-smile as he leans back on his seat; holding back grunts of complaint when he feels pain on his back muscles.

“Not really,” he lies, looking away, “What are you up to?”

“I was wondering if you’re still coming over tonight,” Wonwoo replies.

“Of course,” Mingyu replies without a second thought.

Just a couple days before his replies would wait a second more or so of hesitancy before replying. Mingyu has never been the type to get into a relationship, he’s not used to this, out of nowhere calls that get his heart skipping a beat and puts a silly smile on his lips. He used to mock Jeonghan for it, now he’s the victim of all this and despite all his expectations, Mingyu finds himself enjoying all too much.

Mingyu never thought his last one-night-stand would end up like this, but Wonwoo was everywhere after that and… It’s not like he felt like going anywhere else. For whatever reason, if Wonwoo was there, then… It’d be him whom Mingyu would be drawn to. Wonwoo’s apartment was already a second home for him and he already could find Wonwoo’s things in his, at random places and it all just made him feel all the more anxious for not knowing if this is where things are supposed to head to. It’s partially scary and Mingyu tries to be careful not to ruin everything, if there is anything to ruin at all.

“Kim Mingyu?” Wonwoo’s voice is rather playful.

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you’re not busy? I don’t want to-”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Mingyu says nonchalantly, “But… Umm… What, exactly, were you saying again?”

Mingyu hears Wonwoo scoff and is unable to wipe that stupid smile off his face. His eyes meet Jeonghan sitting at his cubicle and Mingyu grimaces and turns away. He doesn’t quite like the all-knowing look on Jeonghan’s face.

“I’m going home now, do you want something?”

Mingyu wonders why it feels so natural to have Wonwoo ask him if he wants something to be taken home, even if that’s not what the other is asking… It just feels like it is. Oh God, does this make him a creep? Is it weird to think about it?

“Uhm― What- What do you mean?” Mingyu asks, frowning as he presses the phone on his ear as if this would make him listen - without a doubt - Wonwoo’s true intentions, the true meanings of the words. As if it would answer a question that Mingyu himself doesn’t even dare to ask.

“What do you mean, what I mean?” Wonwoo asks in confusion, “I mean food, Mingyu. Food, beer, snacks, street food- just anything. If you want something, let me know,” Wonwoo spells it out, but to Mingyu it doesn’t seem like a good answer.

“Beer, I guess. Maybe some snacks,” Mingyu says for no particular reason, he’s not really craving any snacks or beer. But saying nothing would be awkward with the way he’s feeling― something that thrills on disappointment. It’s too uncomfortable.

“I’m not in the mood for cooking, so I guess I’ll buy street food for dinner, is that okay?”

Wonwoo sounds so casual. Mingyu can hear the sounds of the street in the background, it feels oddly satisfying, feeling like he’s part of Wonwoo’s life. But it’s also unsettling, not knowing if this would just be something Wonwoo would do for someone he’s seeing, does he do this for other guys too? Are there other guys? Mingyu never cares about this, but he can’t help but to think about it when Wonwoo is the one who―

“Forget it,” Wonwoo says out of a sudden, getting Mingyu by surprise, “Sorry,” there’s something in Wonwoo’s voice Mingyu can’t quite catch on, “You must be busy and I’m getting in your way-”

“Wait, no!” Mingyu replies a little too quickly, “That’s not it,” he adds hurriedly after ruining any aspect of coolness he intended to act with.

Mingyu limits himself to cursing mentally before hitting his head on the backrest of his chair, eyes closed to try to conceal the feeling of cringeness when Wonwoo doesn’t say anything back.

“I was thinking-” Mingyu starts again, nibbling on his lips, trying to deal with this newfound uneasiness and hesitation to speak up, “This time,” he hesitates, “I should probably try making something. As I recall, you already have your fair share of street food and leftovers, right?” Mingyu’s voice sounds too foreign to his own ears with all this awkward, unintentional softness that he desperately tries to mask with his usual laid-back way of talking to his usual hookups, “You should eat something homemade for a change. Also!“ he tries adding, ignoring how he keeps rambling, “This way the food won’t get cold by the time I get there.”

None of what he says is out of nowhere. Wonwoo’s too careless and Mingyu’s first hand testimony that his current… acquittance? Lover? Wonwoo, he is very attached to an unhealthy diet; MIngyu doesn’t even want to think of whatever there is inside his fridge right now. Though, judging by the fact that he wasn’t at Wonwoo’s place not too long ago, he considers just about the same thing probably remains in the fridge and cabinets with little to no alteration. Mingyu recalls a particular package he saw and can only imagine Wonwoo would be smart enough to not venture himself to eat.

“So, you’ll be cooking? I wonder if you’re as good as you brag to be” Mingyu likes Wonwoo’s amused voice.

“I- never bragged about my cooking,” Mingyu protests and Wonwoo laughs in his ears, causing him to smile.

“Is that so? Then… I must have imagined someone going on about how the perfect breakfast should be carefully made this or that way,” Wonwoo seemed very amused at Mingyu’s pathetic noises that didn’t make any sense, let alone be the excuse Mingyu wanted it to be.

“I wonder what I can do if it’s not good~”, Wonwoo provokes with a rather playful tone.

“You can sleep in your car if you don’t like it-” Mingyu retorts.

“Ah, okay. I get it.” Mingyu definitely liked the sound of Wonwoo’s amused short laugh, but he never saw it. Being too taken by his own thoughts, he loses a part of whatever Wonwoo started to say, but pay attention to whatever comes next, “I guess I’ll see you back h-” Wonwoo stops himself and the atmosphere from before shifts, “I guess― I’ll see you at my place, then.”

“See you.” Mingyu replies a moment too late with his pulse stuttering an erratic beat.

Mingyu swallows thickly, wondering he imagined the words that were about to slip past Wonwoo’s lips while listening to nothing but the background noises of the busy streets Wonwoo’s at. It kind of reminds him of two nights ago when he found Wonwoo drunk out of his ass, unable to do anything by himself. It was Friday night and Mingyu didn’t hear from Wonwoo, he was confused - much worse than he is now. Sooyoung invited him to go to this new club and he had no reason to refuse, Mingyu would lie if he say didn’t search for the familiar figure in the crowd, but Wonwoo was nowhere in there and after some self convincing he easily found himself with someone he now can’t recall the name or the face.

It was on the way to a hotel nearby when he stumbled on Wonwoo who seemed to recognize him right away, asking who he thought he was to come at such an inconvenient time. Like he was the one to ask that. Mingyu had no choice but to leave his previous company to escort Wonwoo home and tuck him into bed. Somehow he ended up tucked into bed too, with his arms around Wonwoo curled against him. It took way too much time for Mingyu to calm down and to be honest he didn’t have much sleep that night. Mingyu was too caught up in the way Wonwoo’s hand slipped under his shirt, against the skin of his back, but not in the way it did before. Wonwoo’s breath against his skin, calming and peaceful was nothing like the one he got to know the past nights they spent together and everything became all the more confusing than. That’s when Mingyu started to have these― seconds thoughts about Wonwoo and all of this.

Mingyu’s not sure how much time has gone by, but he knows Wonwoo’s still there, he wonders if maybe Wonwoo forgot to hang up, maybe thinks he did and Mingyu’s not sure what kind of creep he became by this point, but hanging there and listening. There’s something in the silence, Mingyu feels eager to grasp on whatever it is, but he’s not good at this.

“Mingyu―” Wonwoo tries and Mingyu hums softly in response because there was something to it and Mingyu wishes he was as smart to catch up on it as he was noticing all the tiny, little details in all these projects. But, there was this change of tone Mingyu’s too sensible not to notice and the next thing he heard was: “Call me, if you- change your mind”

“I won’t change my mind.”

“Good,” Wonwoo breathes

“Good,” Mingyu mocks, “See you, then.”

“See you.”

When Mingyu turns his chair around and places his phone back on the table, he keeps staring at the silent device as if it holds answers to all these questions he barely lets himself think about.

“Hey!”

Jeonghan’s assault to his daydreaming moment makes Mingyu feel slightly offended and he can barely hide it when he looks up, but Jeonghan doesn’t seem to care about it, leaning with his arms on the small dividers of Mingyu’s cubicle.

“I’m not interested in whatever you have in mind,” Mingyu speaks up before Jeonhan could say anything and gets a mocking chuckle as reply.

“Here’s the report,” Jeonghan says nonchalantly, throwing the stapled together pages on Mingyu’s table.

Mingyu spared Jeonghan a quick look before looking away, back to his computer screen.

“If that’s all, then just go back~” Mingyu complains in irritated annoyance.

“All right,” Jeonghan replies with a smile playing on his lips as he turns back to his cubicle.

***

Wonwoo bit his lip, looking at his phone as the screen went off. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. Not this time. Yet, Wonwoo’s not sure how it all came to this, when Jihoon pointed at Mingyu that night he said it’d be perfect. Mingyu’s known to be nothing more than a one-night-stand kind of guy, so how come he’s so willing to buy food and hang out in Wonwoo’s apartment instead of going back to his own place or going out for a drink with his friends after a long day at work- maybe end up with another someone the next morning. That’s what Mingyu himself told him that one morning when Wonwoo was busy cooking breakfast and Mingyu came, running his fingers through his bed hair as he sat at the kitchen table, watching Wonwoo prepare their breakfast. Mingyu looked so out of his comfort zone there, so Wonwoo avoided looking at him. It was awkward at first, but after that first or after the second time, things just… kind of felt natural when it wasn’t supposed to.

“That’s ₩12,000.”

Wonwoo snapped his head up at the cashier.

“Sure,” he mumbled, fishing his wallet from his pocket.

“Wonwoo?”

Wonwoo took this little time as he thumbed the bills before looking up at the voice he could just recognize anywhere much to his dismay. Seungcheol smiled at him, shifting the way on his feet, the basket with groceries swinging in his hands. Wonwoo wishes he could say that smile didn’t pull any strings for him, for that’d be a shameless lie. It’s still very vivid in his mind the way Seungcheol would smile at him like that when they were about to kiss or how this smile could be a prelude to a contagious laughter when they were goofing around.

“Oh, hi,” Wonwoo managed to say, “What are you doing here?” Wonwoo feels like an idiot as soon as he asks the question as his eyes fly to the basket in Seungcheol’s hand. “Oh. Right.” He smiled, despite himself, using the timing to collect his groceries from the balcony.

Sungcheol looks down at his basket as if just realizing it’s there before setting on the counter. The cashier couldn’t be less interested in their interaction, but Wonwoo felt like the stranger’s presence became an added humiliation to his embarrassment. Even though he could just wave goodbye and leave, he found his legs unable to walk away.

“How’s Nayeon?” Wonwoo asks, feeling his throat constrict as he tries to voice out the name of Seungcheol’s fiance.

“She- uh―” Wonwoo looks at Seungcheol, but he’s looking at the groceries being scanned. Wonwoo recognizes that self-deprecating smile on his lips. “She left me.”

She left him.

Wonwoo fought back a smile just to feel conflicted the next. He didn’t want to feel hope again, Seungcheol would never choose him and he knows it, Wonwoo knows Seungcheol would rather live whatever life’s easier than admitting and letting others know about his… preference. Wonwoo doubts Seungcheol would’ve changed, he knows he’s smarter than this, still…

“That’s why all the beers, then?” Seungcheol laughs in self-deprecation again.

“We had to call off the wedding and it’s been a long day,” Seungcheol admitted reluctantly. “Look,” Seungcheol hesitates, busying himself as he pays the cashier, “I really could use some company now-”

Wonwoo takes a sharp breath when Seungcheol looks at him and his eyes pleads for Wonwoo to accept him and Wonwoo would be lying if he never thought of this moment, except that he always thought this would be Seungcheol who would leave his fiance to be with Wonwoo and not… this. This feels like he’s the second choice, a permanent thing Seungcheol running back just because he needs something.

“I promise, we’ll just talk,” Seungcheol insists, clearly seeing the wheels turning in Wonwoo’s head. It has always been easy for him, anyway. Wonwoo was always too easy for Seungcheol to read and this is how he could never win. Seungcheol was always one step ahead. “That place across the street. Just- I need someone to talk to.”

Wonwoo licked his lips and laughed at himself. Maybe Seungcheol remembers how Wonwoo’s weak to the way he looks at him like that. Wonwoo wishes he could say no, it would give him a twisted sensation of satisfaction, but he can’t bring himself to. Not with the way his heart stubbornly pounds in his chest, screaming something completely different.

“Just order whatever you want, it’s on me today,” Seungcheol says when they’re settling on their seat and Wonwoo nods.

“I think I should be the one treating you to a meal,” Wonwoo says as casual as he can, placing his coat and groceries on the seat near him.

“Maybe next time,” Seungcheol chuckles, leaning back on his seat.

When Wonwoo looks up Seungcheol has his eyes fixed on him and a smile eases on his lips very subtly. It’s soft and meaningful and Wonwoo doesn’t want to believe in what Seuncheol is trying to convey to him. Wonwoo looks away, busying himself by calling the waitress.

As he sits there with Seungcheol something comes to Wonwoo’s mind. Just a few days later would mark the fifth month since they broke up. Wonwoo’s not sure when he forgot about it, he used to count the hours during the first couple of days, then he counted the days up to a hundred. Then he kept on counting to the first month as he tried to move on, the date just seemed to jump at his face every time he glanced at the calendar. Jihoon dragged him out of this trance and then he met Mingyu; it was enough to rob his attention and he stopped noticing. The date became just another uneventful day in the calendar last time he looked at it. Now, he can picture the calendar in his agenda and the plans he has for this particular day seems unimportant next to what it’s supposed to represent.

“I gotta admit, I missed the food here,” Seungcheol says casually. He starts picking on some of the side dishes and placing on his spoon, before shoving in his mouth right after slurping some noodles and soup. Wonwoo limits himself to a casual nod, it only occurs to him now, he only came here because Seungchol likes the food, him, on the other hand, is not that much of a fan. “I- haven’t been here since we…” Wonwoo steals a glance from his bowl to Seungcheol.

“Me too,” he confesses, swallowing around the food left in his mouth before going for some of the side dishes. Seungcheol reached to place one of Wonwoo’s favorite’s on his spoon.

“It’s your favorite, isn’t it?” Wonwoo sighs, leaning back once again and lowering his spoon. “Okay, okay.” Seungcheol acknowledges, “I’m sorry.”

Wonwoo swallows what’s left in his mouth and places his spoon down, the little pile of picked side dishes left untouched.

“Cheol, you- you can’t do this,” Wonwoo breathes out, his heart sounding loud and hurtful to his ears now. He thought he was over this phase, but the uncomfortable feeling of his eyes stinging on the sides tells him it’s easy to fall back into the pattern Jihoon forced him out of.

“I know,” Seungcheol replies, “I’m sorry-”

Wonwoo doesn’t want to look at Seungcheol right now. He was never like this before, but he never really loved before until Seungcheol came around and Wonwoo found himself being immature like a teenager in love.

“No, you don’t” Wonwoo shakes his head, tries to conceal the desperation pushing its way through his chest, up his throat; he doesn’t want to cry. Wonwoo’s sure he’s past this. “You don’t understand what you did-” Wonwoo licks his lips, too nervous to think of what to say next Seungcheol pulls his shoulders close in guilt, placing his spoon and pair of chopsticks on the table.

“Trust me, I- thought about it more than I’d like to admit,” Seungcheol confessed, looking for Wonwoo’s eyes. “Nayeon-” he scoffs, “She caught on it, I think-” Wonwoo watches him bite on his tongue, “I think she knew for some time. I’m- a terrible person, aren’t I? Hurting two people I care about like this,” Seungcheol reaches across the table for Wonwoo’s hand.

Wonwoo looks at how Seungcheol’s hand fits in his, Seungcheol pressed their hands together in a soft hold. Wonwoo bites down his lip and Seungcheol waits until Wonwoo’s eyes finds him again. The warmth of Seungcheol’s hand is the same, just like he remembers.

“It was a mistake,” Seungcheol said, “All of it. If I had to choose again, if I could do it all over again-” his eyes looked desperately for Wonwoo’s when Wonwoo finally looked up, “I would choose you.” Seungcheol makes a small pause and moves to the seat between them, “Don’t look around, look at me,” Seungcheol asks when Wonwoo looks around in panic, knowing Seungcheol doesn’t want others to notice.

***

Mingyu’s still grumpy, regretting the moment he shared the cab with Jeonghan. It’s annoying listening to all the remarks about how he looked during that call, all the questions about who it was when he knows it’s Wonwoo. Jeonghan‘s seen Wonwoo with him.

“Seriously, do you want to know what this looks like to me?” Jeonghan asked and categorically pretended not to hear the very clear negative reply he got, “You like him. It’s about time for you to admit that this is way past something casual like you’re trying to play it out to be. How many nights have you spent in his house?”

“Do you want a report?”

“I’m sure he’s just- waiting for you to figure it out by now.”

“It’s not like this~” Mingyu can’t hold back his annoyance at Jeonghan’s optimism. He, himself, doesn’t want to think about things like this, it’s too much and too complicated.

“It isn’t?”

“He’s just getting over this other guy who screwed up really bad,” Mingyu’s casual tone is nothing but a facade and he only notices when the bitter taste in his tongue scratches down his throat as he thinks back about what drunk Wonwoo told him about this Seungcheol guy.

When drunk Wonwoo shoved his phone on Mingyu’s face, he saw the photos saved in that gallery and Mingyu couldn’t possibly understand whatever Wonwoo saw in this guy. Just by looking at that static image Mingyu could tell this Seungcheol guy spelled trouble; Wonwoo deserves something better. Mingyu feels something in his pulse, wanting so badly to think that it could be someone like him, but- Well, anyone who knows him would never agree; actually it’d be a laughing matter to them. Maybe everyone but Jeonghan, but Jeonghan’s not someone to take all that seriously in this regard now that his friend seems desperate to push him into something. Mingyu’s not the type to deliberately hurt someone and Wonwoo’s definitely doesn’t deserve another asshole in his life so soon. Mingyu paid the driver, not minding the change.

“Listen, it’s Friday night and here you are.” Jeonghan said, sat by his side in the cab while Mingyu avoided looking at him like a stubborn toddler.

“Yeah, and we’re at your stop. See you Monday.” Mingyu complained and ordered the driver to stop even if they weren’t that close to the metro’s entrance.

“Fine!” Jeonghan conceded and stormed out the cab and when Mingyu thought Jeonghan could close the door and leave, his friend leaned down, holding the door open. Mingyu had moved close to the door and Jeonghan’s face came uncomfortably close to his, causing Mingyu to jerk back.

“Geez, Jeonghan!” Mingyu jerked back, looking away with annoyance, “What’s wrong with you? Just leave!” Jeonghan laughs at Mingyu’s glare, not a bit intimidated by his friend’s attitude.

“Just listen~” Jeonghan half whined with one of his all-knowing smiles and Mingyu grimace.

“I really don’t want to-” Mingyu complains once again.

“Stop being a brat. Listen,” Jeonghan insists and goes on, completely ignoring Mingyu’s grunt in protest or the driver’s impatience and reproval, “If this Wonwoo dude- If he’s letting you in his life is because he wants to try again and I think it’s time for you to give yourself chance and stop behaving like your whole life will be nothing but this, and if this Wonwoo guy is what you say he is…”

“I didn’t say anything,” Mingyu protested and Jeonghan laughed.

“That’s what you think. Out of four words you spoke, five were about Wonwoo.” Jeonghan scoffed, “Trust me, Mingyu. I’m sure he wouldn’t let you come so close to him if he didn’t mean it.”

Jeonghan words sounded like a broken record on loop. Mingyu went over it more than he’d like to admit and he wished he wouldn’t mind them as much as he does. But the idea of Wonwoo letting him stay, not because, to Wonwoo, Mingyu is like a spare tire, but because Wonwoo wants him there. It’s foreign, Mingyu wants this to be true, he really does and before he realizes, he’s smiling at the thought of it; but stops as soon as he sees himself reflected at the glass of the grocery store behind the cashier.

It’s only when he’s paying that he realizes what he bought includes ingredients to that foreign breakfast Wonwoo commented wanting to try and Mingyu reluctantly admitted to being good in the kitchen. Also, maybe he got a little more than he should for dinner, it should be something simple, he could just work with a little less than all of these without having to reach for any of those questionable leftovers Wonwoo has in his fridge; Mingyu figured Wonwoo’s the type to always have questionable- let’s just say “food” in his kitchen.

“I- want to return these, actually,” Mingyu pushes the extra ingredients to the side and ignores the cashier’s reproving stare. Wonwoo never said he could stay the night.

Cooking for Wonwoo, would that be too much? Doesn’t it make it seem like Mingyu’s trying too hard? But it’s not like Mingyu wants to try hard, what exactly would he try hard for? It’s not like Jeonghan is right; Mingyu presses his lips and looks down on all the grocery plastic bags heavily hanging from his grip, they seem to tell a different story from the one which he’s trying to convince himself of.

[seoulsister98]

Dissonance (Ch.1) | jjk (m)

⭄ Pairing: Jungkook x OC 

⭄ Genre: Superhero!au / Enemies-to-lovers 

⭄ Warnings: explicit language, minor character death, mentions of blood, mentions of violence 

⭄ Word Count: 2,955

⭄ Disclaimer: Hi, everyone! This is my first ever attempt at writing a BTS fanfic so please be nice. I’ll probably continue the series even if this doesn’t get many likes. I wrote this based off a dream I had, but it is also inspired by X-Men and the show The Boys. Enjoy! :) 

Mutants have been living among humans since the dawn of time. Across all cultures, religions and legends, mutants were seen as gods and miracle-workers. Overall mutants were viewed as benign, altruistic beings, gifted with special abilities. However, in this modern social and political climate, the world now perceives mutants in conflicting ways. Some people feel entitled to their gifts, given to mutants through the alterations in their DNA. They expect mutants to use their powers for good and to protect human-kind from the dangers of the world. However, others consider mutants freaks of nature and even menaces to society. Political leaders spew mutant versus human rhetoric, only fueling the hatred that humans feel towards mutant-kind. This ideology is derived from fear of the unknown. Although most mutants are capable of killing humans, most of them wish to pursue normal lives. Like getting an education, finding a career, blending into the crowd. Most of them. Until recently… 

Mutants often face discrimination and even violence from humans because of their fear-derived convictions. This has led to the formation of radical mutant groups, rallying up their bloody masses and promoting the belief that mutants are far superior to humans and should be treated as such. The government has deemed these groups as terrorists and a threat to the general public. Because of the immeasurable powers some  mutants possess, human strength nor human weaponry stand a chance to eliminate this threat. With this in mind, the government has initiated a military-trained task force called the Mutant Special-Ops (MSO). They are given mutant-related assignments that would otherwise go unchecked. Government collaboration with mutants is very controversial in the media. Some believe mutants have a duty to fight the bad guys while some think all mutants are inherently evil, and will turn against mankind. 

---

☽ Bangtan City. District 7 Railway. 1:42a.m.☾

Nara. ID number 5407. Telekinesis. These were the only three things listed on her MSO portfolio along with the red letter ‘M’ in the corner, signifying her mutant status. She never understood the need for this distinction, as if the word ‘telekinesis’ didn’t give  away what she was. She also couldn’t wrap her mind around what had become of her life. It felt like yesterday that she was just 17 years old, disowned by her family, homeless, with no prospects when a government official had approached her. A sleek, black car pulled up beside her as she walked along the sidewalk. The back, tinted window was rolled down. A man wearing a suit peered at her over his sunglasses. “Get in,” he had said. Wanting no trouble with the law, Nara cautiously entered the vehicle. She pressed herself against the leather seat across from him, attempting to put as much space between her and the man, and stared at him warily. “Don’t worry. You’re not in trouble,” he said with a slight smile. Knowing how mutants were systematically killed by law enforcement, Nara still felt doubtful about the man’s intentions. “What is it that you want from me then?” she asked. The man’s smile grew wider, “I have a proposition for you.”

That day had changed Nara’s life for the better. Along with the rigorous 4-year military training and the scientific experiments she had undergone, she had also been given a home, a family, and a purpose in life. Now she sat beside two of her fellow teammates, Jimin and Taehyung, several feet away from the city’s train tracks. It was very dark out sans the lights illuminating the track. Nara looked up at the starless sky; the city lights swallowing up their light. A cool breeze lifted Nara’s midnight hair off her shoulders and she relished in the feeling. Although she had been assigned missions countless times, she still felt on edge. 

Taehyung sighed and glanced at his cellphone again for the nth time that evening. “My patience is wearing thin. This train was supposed to be here 10 minutes ago,” he said in annoyance and slipped his phone back into his pocket. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared off towards the tracks in the direction the train was supposedly arriving from. Jimin placed a hat over his head in order to cover his silver blue hair, a phenotypic mutation that came along with his powers. Although it wasn’t too strange to see a younger man with unnaturally colored hair in the city, the team was required to look as ordinary as possible. “Complaining about it isn’t going to make the train come any faster, Tae. Besides, where do any of us have to be right now?” Jimin asked. Taehyung shrugged and smirked, “I was hoping we could grab drinks after our mission. Maybe enjoy a night for once.” They were about to kill a man, a fellow mutant, and Taehyung was thinking about grabbing drinks as if they worked in some stuffy office all day. With each completed task, these things became easier and easier to do. The only solace they shared was that all of this was for the good of humanity and the rest of the mutants who didn’t want a bad rep because of a few sour apples. 

Nara placed her brown color contacts over her violet eyes. She glanced over at Taehyung who was sporting his signature pedestrian garb, all black clothes topped off with a leather jacket. Mutants often exhibit physical abnormalities like Jimin with his natural blue hair and Nara’s violet eyes. Taehyung, however, was blessed with black hair and brown eyes, making it easy for him to pass as human. He never needed a disguise while on missions or in life for that matter. “Let’s go over the mission one more time,” said Jimin, pulling up the file on his phone. “Target is on board a District 7 high-speed train heading east-bound towards Bangtan City to meet with the mutant terrorist group: Supremus. Target is mutant, but powers are unknown so execute the mission with caution. Target is in possession of top-secret information disclosed in a briefcase. Assassinate the target and retrieve the briefcase without any human casualties. Dispose of the body.” Jimin slips his phone back into his pocket. “Easy enough,” Taehyung said nonchalantly. 

The rumble of the approaching train pulled them out of their thoughts, “It’s here.” Taehyung groaned as he stood, “About time.” Jimin and Nara stood as well and they stealthily made their way towards the train. As they approached, the wind from the speed of the train whipped their hair and clothes, making Nara wince. “Which car is he in?” Jimin asked nonchalantly as he began to stretch his limbs. “According to Namjoon, he should be in car sixteen,” Nara replied. Taehyung groaned again, “When is Yoongi gonna stop this train?” Yoongi, the MSO’s hacker and shapeshifter, was tasked to hack the high-speed train’s operating system in order to stop the train instead of letting it take its intended route. A few seconds later the train came to a gradual halt. “We shouldn’t enter car sixteen immediately. We should enter from the back, it’ll give us enough time for a distraction,” Nara said. Jimin nodded in agreement. Taehyung sighed, “We’re just wasting more time by doing this! Why can’t we just kill this guy and get it over with?” Jimin nudged him and gave him a look which seemed to silence him. 

Nara approached one of the back cars, most likely empty due to the time of night. She raised her hand towards the train door. Using her power of telekinesis, she forced the door open and stepped inside. Jimin and Taehyung followed closely behind. “How’d you three get on here?” The three whipped their heads around to face a man in a uniform, most likely someone who worked on the train. Dammit, Nara thought to herself. She only considered the possibility of passengers seeing them, not an employee. However, slip ups such as this were easily fixed by Taehyung, possessing the power of memory manipulation. He approached the man and waved his hand in front of the man’s eyes, in a calm voice he said, “You never saw us here. Continue with what you were doing.” The man’s eyes seemed to glaze over as he nodded and turned away from us. Taehyung turned around and smirked at us, “Still got it.” Nara rolled her eyes, “Get serious, Tae. That could’ve blown this whole operation.” Taehyun tsked at her and shook his head, “You have such little faith in me.” Rather than contributing to their bickering, Jimin began making his way towards the sliding doors, separating them from the other cars. Nara and Taehyung followed behind as they all made their way towards car sixteen. 

The team finally came upon several confused passengers. Jimin, feigning concern, asked a couple why the train had suddenly stopped. “I don’t know, but someone came back here and told us it would start running again shortly.” They’re window of opportunity was narrowing. “We need a distraction,” Nara whispered to the others. “I have an idea,” Jimin replied, “but let’s get closer to our target.” They continued walking and slipped into car sixteen. Nara scanned the area and noticed a man, sitting by himself, holding a briefcase. He seemed inconspicuous enough, passed as human, except for the gills he was attempting to hide under his shirt collar. He could have the ability to manipulate water or even the ability to swim at inhuman speeds. Either way, he was potentially dangerous and the team needed to execute this perfectly. “Get on with this grand plan of yours Jimin, we don’t have much time,” Taehyung urged. Jimin glanced at Nara, “You got this?” She nodded. Jimin sat down close to a window and the others sat beside him. Jimin placed his hand against the side of the train, shooting volts of electricity from his fingertips. All of the lights on the train sparked and busted, encasing everyone in complete darkness. Passengers screamed and ducked for cover. This was their chance. The man with the briefcase, seeming to know something was off, shuffled out of his seat quickly. Taehyung and Nara followed after him. The man sprayed water from his hand onto the floor, causing Taehyung to slip and fall. Nara easily avoided the water and jumped over Taehyung. “Dammit! Get him, Nara.” The man clutched his briefcase to his chest and ran to the next car. Nara chased after him, shoving away distressed passengers trying to run the opposite direction. Outstretching her hand, she forced him in place. He grunted and struggled in her telekinetic grasp. She approached the man and withdrew her knife from her boot. The man’s eyes widened as if she was squeezing them out of his head. His gills seemed to be gasping for air and sweat dripped down his temple, “P-Please don’t do this. I’m one of you!” Nara felt her stomach churn at his words and grimaced, “You are not one of us,” she said and slit his throat. He made a gurgled sound as blood spurted on her face and chest. Losing her concentration, she released the man from her hold and he fell to the floor with a thump. She wiped her face and looked down at her hands. It was dark on the train, but she could still see the man’s blood on her hands. She felt sick to her stomach from the sight. Taehyung and Jimin finally reached her and lifted his lifeless body. “Let’s go.”

 In their hysterics, the passengers had run to the opposite end of the train so thankfully no one had witnessed the man being killed. Nara pried the door open with her power and helped the other two drag the man’s body out. “What should we do with the body?” Nara asked. “Let the train run over him. That should be sufficient enough for disposal,” Taehyung said and shrugged. Jimin grabbed the suitcase, “This is all we need. Let’s get out of here.” As the train began to move again, the team ran away from the tracks and into the city. 

---

“Thank god this bar stays open late!” Taehyung exclaimed as he downed his drink. After the mission was completed, the team reported to their leader, Namjoon, and delivered the briefcase they were asked to retrieve. Getting the thumbs up from Namjoon, Tae believed celebratory drinks were in order. Nara glanced at her phone, it was 3 am. Most human bars were closed by then, but mutant nightlife lasted much longer, sometimes into the early hours of the morning. Mutationem, a popular mutant-only bar in the city, was a place the team would frequent after missions. Nara sipped her beer and chuckled as she watched Tae flirt with the bartender. She turned to her left and noticed a fluffy grey cat sitting beside her on one of the barstools. “Hi, Yoongi” In a blink of an eye, he shifted back to his human form, clothes somehow intact, “Hey.” Yoongi preferred walking around as a cat, little chance for any verbal interaction but a lot of chances for petting. “That hacking thing you did was pretty convenient. I thought we might have had to jump on top of the train to get in,” she said with a laugh. Yoongi shrugged, “It wasn’t too hard for a genius like myself. Run into any other problems?” Nara shook her head, “Other than having to listen to Tae complain, it went fine.” Yoongi scoffed, “Figures.” Nara watched as she swirled the contents of her bottle around, curiosity consuming her, “So what was in the suitcase?” Yoongi shrugged, “I don’t know. Namjoon didn’t tell me and I didn’t really care to ask.” Nara thought this was strange; it wasn’t like Namjoon to keep things hush hush from the team. As if Yoongi could read the concern on her face, he said, “I’m sure it’s nothing too important. Probably just some info on their next move.” She nodded. “Anyway, I think I’m gonna go back to the base. I’ll see you later.” And with that, Yoongi transformed back into a cat and jumped down from the barstool. Before leaving, he rubbed his head against her leg, making her smile. Nara looked back at her bottle which was still almost full. Deciding it was time for her to go back to base as well, she chugged it and exited the bar. 

She regretted her decision to down her drink so quickly, feeling her head buzzing from the alcohol. Base was only a few minutes away so she decided to walk instead of calling for a government vehicle to pick her up. She shivered as the cold, night air whisked her hair around. Wrapping her arms around herself, she began walking in the direction of the base. As she walked along the sidewalk, Nara could sense someone trailing her. She couldn’t tell if they were actually following her or if her tipsiness was making her paranoid. Deciding to take a shortcut home, she made a b-line to an alley. As soon as she turned the corner, the man following her grabbed her around the waist from behind. Thanks to her military training, Nara easily broke free from his grasp and used her telekinesis to push him back several feet. Stunned, the man fell to the ground and stared at her as if he saw a ghost. “Fucking freak!” he yelled as he scrambled to his feet and ran off. She winced at his words as she watched the man run away. She knew she should be used to this kind of treatment by now, but interactions like that always left a bad taste in her mouth. And these were the people she had sworn to protect, she thought to herself and continued walking back to base. 

---

☽ Bangtan City. Supremus HQ. 3a.m.☾

The small room was dark except for the lamp that illuminated the desk. The mastermind behind Supremus, Bang Si-hyuk, sat broodingly behind the desk, a scowl on his face. Jungkook lounged across the leather couch situated in the shadowy corner of the room, watching the other man that just entered the room. 

“Intel has just informed us that our assailant from the group outside of the city is dead,” he said to Si-hyuk. “Fish boy?”

“Yes, sir.” The man behind the desk scoffed. “Of course he got himself killed. He was one of the weakest among us. I can’t believe they trusted him with such an important task,” Si-hyuk rubbed his face in exasperation. “What about the supplies?” 

“Gone, sir.” Si-hyuk slammed his fist on the desk. Jungkook closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “God dammit! MSO?” 

“Yes, sir. Three of them.” Jungkook sneered at the mention of the MSO. He couldn’t comprehend why any mutant would risk their life for the sake of humans. Humans all had unwarranted arrogance about them even though mutants were obviously the more powerful beings. They exploited these mutants for their own personal gain and still treated them like dirt. Jungkook didn’t understand and he never would. That’s why he had decided to join Supremus. They were considered terrorists by the state, but he didn’t see it that way. It wasn’t a question to him who was more superior. 

“We need the supplies back. If they figure out exactly what we’re doing, the government is going to crack down on us even harder.” 

“What do you suppose we do, sir?” Jungkook stood from his position, “I can get them back.” Si-hyuk eyed Jungkook and shook his head, “No, you’re too valuable of an asset.” Jungkook smirked at him, “You underestimate me.” Si-hyuk considered Jungkook’s words carefully, “I trust you, Jungkook. Do what needs to be done.” 

“Yes, sir.”

[punkpoemprose]

December 16th- Bias and Bikinis

Universe: 1950′s AU/ Country Club AU

Rating: T (Teen & Up, Anna flirting in a bikini, swearing like once)

Length: 2015 Words

A/N: Oh you know I had to write Anna into one of these slamming 50′s bikinis. I apologize for nothing, except not showing you more! So here’s Rich Girl! Anna flirting with Pool Boy! Kristoff! Inspired in part by a post (that I can’t find) where @awesomemaple and I talked about Anna showing up around Kristoff in something both sweet and appropriate and simultaneously excessively suggestive, just to see him sweat. I will absolutely write that specific fic sometime very soon (once I find the post, I’m so sorry) but until then, here’s a taste of what that’s going to look like.

Anna was not flirting with the pool boy, that would be against club policy and she was a respectable young lady. No, she wasn’t flirting with the pool boy. She was torturing him.

She had, however, been flirting with him the first week the pool opened for the summer. She’d bought herself drink after drink after drink because he was cute, and it meant that she could shown him her ID. She thought that maybe a wink and the proof that she was 18, old enough to drink, old enough to do… other things… might be enough for him to catch her drift, but for a while it didn’t really seem to get her anywhere with him. Either he didn’t notice, or he wasn’t sure of what to make of her, and she wanted to, at least, interest him enough to get him to talk to her.

She upped her game after that, finding the courage to just come out and ask him if he was doing anything after work. She’d put her best charm into it, smiling and fluttering her eyelashes. He, in return, had rather gruffly told her that he didn’t want to be “a rich girl’s summer romance”.

It had hurt her in the moment. She was certain that he hadn’t meant for it to hurt her thought, He’d given her an apologetic look that almost made up for her discomfort and embarrassment, but the assumptions he’d already made about her with those words cut deep. Was she a rich girl? Yes. Was she looking for a summer romance? Also, yes. But, also no.

He was attractive and she di want to go on a date with him, but she wasn’t looking for some kind of whirlwind kiss and tell summer romance to tell girls about in the dorms, she wanted something serious. Whether that was love or friendship or neither was based on compatibility. She’d ended a romance before because of a “whirlwind” and she certainly wasn’t looking for another.

She was torturing him, and she did feel a little guilty about it, but not enough to stop. She came to the pool everyday she could, lips red, hair pinned perfectly and laid herself out on a deck chair under a shady umbrella. She’d read books in her bikini, ordering cokes and otherwise ignoring Kristoff Bjorgman’s general existence, even when she took her drink from him and slid him a tip like he was just anyone else.

It was a win-win. She had plenty of reading she wanted to get done before starting college in the fall, and she could watch him watching her from behind her dark sunglasses without giving him even the slightest bit of satisfaction. She wore two-pieces she’d seen described in magazines as “sweet” and “flattering” or “curve-enhancing”. She put a great level of effort into selecting the styles and patterns that perfectly walked the line of tasteful and utterly devastating for any man looking at her. She’d had her sister help her in the decision-making process and she couldn’t deny the results.

Sometimes when she knew his eyes were on her, she’d casually reposition herself, arch her back, shift her hips, angle herself so he got a better look at the strip of bare skin between her top and bottoms, just below the curve of her breasts.

She would never admit it out loud, but every time she did so, a little voice in the back of her head would tell him to suffer. And suffer he did. She enjoyed watching him sweat, and tug at his collar, knowing that it was her and not the sun making him uncomfortable. It was almost the end of the summer when he’d finally had enough to pull her aside.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he muttered under his breath. Anna had to do all she could to hide a pleased smile from her face.

“What’s that?” she asked, feigning innocence and tucking her sunglasses into her bag. She’d just been planning to change and head out for the evening when he’d approached her. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He shook his head and she took great pride in how red he got when he gestured to her and waved his hands a bit. That he found her so attractive that he assumed she needed no other explanation was flattering to say the least. It also spoke to her ability to see a plan through, and she almost giggled about that particular element.

“Oh! My bathing suit?” she asked, “I’m sorry if you find this one makes you uncomfortable. I’ve worn several others this summer. Is there one you prefer I switch it out with? Maybe the blue one with the little bow between my…”

He turned eve redder, and she thought perhaps it was unwise to make advances while half-naked to a man well over twice her size, but if the way he’d spent the whole summer looking at her like a man starved and then immediately averting his eyes was any indication of character, he was a gentleman, not a player. She knew as much to begin with, of course. She’d done her research before she’d started being interested in him in the first place, and she’d heard from several very reliable sources that he was going into his senior year of college and had a sparkling reputation. Knowing that, and seeing the way he was looking at her like he was about to burst, was what drove her to add, “You did seem to like that one.”

His eyes went wide, and she was certain with the way he was swallowing and fidgeting that the cat well and truly had his tongue. Oh how she’d like to be that cat. For all her “payback” she was still interested in him. She suspected that she wouldn’t have tried even half as hard to befuddle him all summer long had she not been interested, but he was cute and respectful when she wasn’t making it hard for him to be so, and underneath it all, she was hoping that he’d start flirting back. She’d spent just as many hours over the summer fantasizing about him walking over and kissing her as he’d spent enjoying the view of her in her blue bikini.

“You were doing it on purpose,” he said, deflating a bit, and frowning which was what upset her far more than admitting that she had been teasing him, encouraging and enticing him.

“Guilty,” she said, and flushed a bit herself, giving him a sheepish smile. She couldn’t take it back now, and she didn’t want to. She was interested in seeing where this would take them, and she could only hope that he would understand that her interest in him had been genuine.

“So what was it all? Just a way to make fun and watch me panic from behind those shades of yours, or…?”

She sighed, feeling less confident about the whole thing and a lot more guilty. It had never really been about making fun of him, so much as it had been meant to be a tease. She’d just wanted to show him what he was missing out on, to give him a little taste of his own medicine, making him want what he can’t have, even though she’d really have him in a minute if he wanted her too.

“No. Well, I mean it was intentional and I was watching you sometimes through my shades, but I never intended to poke fun. Just… I just wanted you to know what it felt like for me to be there with you looking so nice every day. I just wanted…” she trailed off, leaving it there and hoping that she hadn’t just upset him terribly.

“Me?” he asked, sounding a bit incredulous, “In this getup?”

Truly she did imagine he’d look better out of the club’s uniform shirt and trousers, but even in them he was quite handsome. She particularly liked his eyes, soft and earthy and expressive in a way that when he looked at her, she felt warm, and it was, once again, no fault of the sun’s. When he smiled it brightened her mood immensely. He flushed a bit, like her compliment had caught him off-guard, like he wasn’t used to someone thinking he was handsome.

She nodded, “Yes! I didn’t ask you out because I thought you were unattractive. I’ve been told I’m a fool, but I don’t think I’m that bad.”

He seemed taken aback by that, but she didn’t worry so much about it because his expression went soft.

“Aw hell, you mean that… all that… what you said before…” he trailed off and slouched a bit, making himself seem smaller in the space as he realized the situation they’d been in a bit more clearly. Anna found it rather endearing when he gave her a nervous smile.

“I’m sorry! It’s just… I was a goof. Look usually when someone seems interested in me, it’s just an act. I know I’m a big guy, I’m clumsy sometimes, I don’t really know how to talk to… Anyway, I know the way I am, so I just… I’ve been made the fool once or twice so I’m a little defensive. I didn’t realize you meant it when you wanted to meet me after work, so I just went for the best answer I could think of.”

He seemed nervous and more than a bit shy, so instead of pushing even harder than she already was, particularly given she was still in her bathing suit, she reached into her bag for a pen. Even though she’d just spent the entirety of the summer teasing him, his admission of fear stemming from the ways other women had treated him broke her heart. She understood a bit more about why he’d been so quick to deny her without any real knowledge of her intentions.

She reached out and touched his hand gently once she found her pen. His hand, that had been balled up at his side, tentatively relaxed at her touch. She smiled at that and gently pressed his hand open with her fingers. There was an intimacy in the act, one different than the one she’d experienced over the summer when he’d been watching her, and it made her heart race. When his palm was open he gave her a look that was something between nervous and curious.

She flushed under the scrutiny of his gaze as she removed the cap from her felt-tipped pen and jotted down her home phone number, her name, and the hours between which he could call her. She blew on his hand, getting so close that she almost smudged her lipstick against his hand as she dried the ink. It was another strangely intimate action, and she felt his hand shake slightly under her attention.

“Give me a ring?” she asked curiously, releasing his hand to allow it to once more fall at his side. That he didn’t ball it up again was something that she counted as a win.

She saw the corner of his mouth turn up as she tossed the pen back into her bag, preparing to leave finally, for the day.

“I will. Right after I get out, if that’s alright?”

She liked that answer well and truly and gave him a last nod and smile before stepping away to go and change into her dress and head home for the day.  

If the smile she caught sight of as she walked away was any indication, he’d decided better of his opinion on summer romances with rich girls. Whether it be because the fact that she was the right girl in question, or whether it be because the summer was almost over, Anna didn’t know. She did, however, like to think that it was the former.

She touched her fingers lightly to her lips, where they’d almost pressed into his palm, and hurried herself off to home, where she’d wait anxiously by the phone for his call.

[violetsystems]

personal

I’ve been able to sleep until six the last few days.  I’ve been on this miserable eight to four sleep schedule.  I ordered a silent vortex coffee grinder specifically to be less annoying in this regard.   Even if I could literally just grind the coffee the night before.  I also bought a rug cleaner for the first time in my life.  It’s amazing the things you don’t realize you need for a home let alone an office.  Last night I received an email from LinkedIn asking me to weigh in on a conversation about higher education.  The only public facing social networking site I really use actively I pay for.  They bought a service called Linda.com years ago.  It was probably the most important site to me for instructional videos.  These days it is included on the platform so I spend a fair amount of time keeping my job skills plausible.  I learned pretty hard the last six months that my professional network had all but evaporated.  A hard thing to face when you worked with your friends for over twenty years.  But people have to move on.  I sometimes make decisions that seem smarter in retrospect.  You could even mistake it for premonition but I just call it good judgement.  I made the decision to start the process of becoming a LLC.  It was pretty easy to do once you paid the four hundred dollars.  There’s services out there online that will do the legal part for you.  I chose VS consulting as the name which becomes real around mid December if the Secretary of State accepts it.  They asked me to cut the ribbon virtually.  I congratulated myself in silence but this is pretty much the first place I’ve shared the news with.  My mom didn’t quite understand what I had done and my dad is an accountant.  I haven’t told him yet either.  I got the idea seeing some of the people who still work at my old job starting their own side businesses.  Crazy to see people still employed having extra jobs in this economy.  But for the most part I don’t really compare my experience to anyone’s anymore.  So I just look forward.  There are a lot of ways I generate income.  Some of them aren’t very lucrative.  I released another ep Monday.  Three of my friends from across the world I never really talk to bought it immediately.  It makes sense because my music is how they know me.  So that’s how they keep up with me.  From there, Bandcamp revenue share Friday passed with little or no fanfare.  It still doesn’t change the fact I owe taxes on the income above a certain amount if I report it.  We all know how the rich hate paying those taxes.  And the whole world now knows that I work for a LLC on the premier professional social networking site.  It’s a win win for me because I can still look for a job but I appear employed.  It’s also a nice buffer in these times for your resume.  In retrospect, every article I read says the end of December is a perfect time to start your own business.  Mostly because January 1st allows you to start with a fresh balance sheet and good accounting.  So if anything my New Year’s resolution is to be cleaner and more concise about everything.  Even if the rest of society’s ethics and accountability gets muddier as COVID-19 and the election process drags on.  The only things I really have to worry about this next year are documenting my spending, opening up a business checking account, and deducting business expenses.  Sounds like a job to me.

There are tools you need for a job.  I bought a year long subscription to Creative Cloud.  I had it for free for years.  I worked in a visual communications department for ten years.  I saw the most amazing work every morning hung up outside my office.  It inspired me to learn about print making and screen printing.  I even owned Adobe stock at one point because I realized Microsoft Office wasn’t doing my resume much justice.  I shudder to think how many jokes were cracked by the Workday staff over my Chanel submission.  Truth is nobody called back for interviews at any of the places I applied.  And this doesn’t really stop me from keeping my eyes out for a position anywhere.  But if we are talking about generating income, I can do that all by myself.  I can also hire people and deduct more business expenses if I felt that was an option.  Which starts to get into the meat of why the job market and economy is so fucked up in America.  A lot of people didn’t fall in line on a balance sheet when COVID-19 came crashing down last February.  And when the fiscal year came time to start fresh, they thinned their liabilities.  Companies are now thinking in quarters rather than years at this point.  And small businesses like myself also have to think the same because I now owe the IRS money every three months.  The accounting side of it doesn’t really bore me.  I’ve done every IT role in the business pretty much over twenty years.  I guess that’s why LinkedIn calls on me to offer an opinion.  I’ve never had to be this hardcore about the finances.  Another great reason why I spend so much time in spreadsheets aside from writing on the internet.  It’s much easier to approach a professional consultant with twenty years of experience with an invoice than it is to tether them to your payroll with benefits.  I’m always having to think six months ahead myself.  This has an advantage to it insofar that I don’t often look back.  You pay your taxes and you move on.  There are many things I could do to generate income.  I could make a zine and sell it quarterly on bandcamp along with shirts.  I could post flyers around the neighborhood offering after christmas tech support.  I could scour the net for opportunities to audit galvanized IT departments.  I could do all this with more confidence if I could say I am employed.  I could also hire someone to help me.  But I could do none of this and deduct expenses without applying for a sole proprietorship.  And truth be told I already have to claim this for the New York Stock Exchange.  So if you had to put a label on what I do now it isn’t really that much different from any other business.  The state’s richest men started as LLCs.  They’re also the biggest pricks who pay the least taxes.  Trickle down economics is a funny concept.  Businesses offer jobs they deduct from their income therefore paying less to the pool.  This would be fine for small income generating businesses.  But Ken Griffin would say otherwise as he and other rich people benefit from this structure.  They say the American Dream is owning your own business.  So welcome to my personal nightmare.  I hope you don’t mind me taking the itemized deductions after how I’ve been treated.

I don’t actually know how it’s going to work out.  I just know I don’t want to appear unemployed while corporate America expects me to wink and make them more money.  There are investments that have worked out for me as volatile as they might be.  One Chinese company I invested in has made the CEO twelve times richer.  I own four hundred and twenty shares of that company in a brokerage.  My intent is to hold on to them for the long term possibly making someone richer at my own risk.  I could short the entire next year to my heart’s content.  My credit scores have gone through the roof.  Nobody has had any answers for me on what to do.  Nobody has coached me.  I read.  I think.  I come up with solutions to my problems.  And I put money in the right places.  That doesn’t mean anything is a sure thing.  Especially when my government finds it more advantageous to punish other countries while forgetting about it’s own people.  I am absolutely in the dark about everything.  Everything except running my own business in America.  I already have income I have to report over the next three years due the CARES act.  So that is income I will deduct.  This is how it works here in America.  You seize the means of production and you go to work.  If it seems backward for me, you wouldn’t know the half.  My life is so fucked up in terms of how hazy and confusing other people have made it.  People invaded my life on pretenses that I can’t even begin to explain.  And part of being a strong, responsible adult is engineering your way out of these problems.  And for the most part, I’ve engineered myself into a fort that overlooks the CTA train.  And a small portion of that fort can be written off as an office.  Which in some ways if you do the math makes rent and utilities cheaper in the long run.  I don’t make the rules.  This is how America works.  A LLC gets a tax id number.  It allows you better options for retirement savings with a SEP IRA.  You can apply for business accounts and waive taxes on business purchases.  Even the family dollar around the corner has a sign in the window reminding me I can apply for tax free status.  Maybe they’re mostly to blame for planting the idea in my head.  I’m the one who made the call to apply.  Nobody held my hand.  You could also get audited by the IRS.  And I’m sure the IRS would have to figure out how I got into this situation in the first place.  Maybe they’d offer me a job. There’s other fantasies in my life I could imagine happening more than that waking nightmare.  Like actually having money to retire.  I could be travelling around the world cleaning up the mess mark to market accounting has left on big business.  The scars on economies the rich have pock marked on the middle class.  Or I could just keep generating income and be my own boss here in my kitchen.  The one thing I do know is that is sexier to be confident enough to move ahead with your own plan slowly than to short a bunch of stocks disruptively and brag about it on the internet.  You could call it my three year plan.  Don’t ask me how bonds factor in that equation.  I’m not a spy.  What I am is a guy that is trying to be the solution and not the victim.  And that guy doesn’t ever want to be a burden on the people I love.  So that guy is going to keep doing what he does.  And I’m not going to lie that you inspire me to do so.  As sexy and confident as I’m born to be.  <3 Tim

[cristinablackthornkingson]

Shadowhunters Short Story #58. Baby Lightwood-Bane #4.

It is a chilly February day in 2016 when Magnus and Alec Lightwood-Bane receive the news that will change their lives forever.

It has been two years since Magnus and Alec adopted their youngest child and first daughter, Anna Catarina. Anna is almost two now and has remained a very happy, content little girl. She idolizes her brothers and is best friends with little Mina, as well as Clary and Jace’s daughter Lucie and Simon and Isabelle’s son and daughter George and Jessie. 

Right now Alec is sitting in a room that he and Magnus made into a type of schoolroom for the boys (and Anna when she’s older) working on some history with Rafe, though Alec takes Rafe to The Institute to train, he works on the academic side of his (and Max’s) education here at home, often with help from Magnus. Max is in the living room finishing up a lesson with Magnus and Anna is in Magnus and Alec’s room, taking her nap. 

“Okay Rafe, can you tell me the story about the first Shadowhunter? What was his name, how did he create Shadowhunters, stuff like that?” Alec asks, pulling the textbook away from Rafe so he can test him on what they just learned. 

“Uh well he was a mundane in the 11th century and he was a crusader, and he was really worried about all the demons coming in through the void, so one day on his way to Constantinople he met a warlock- like papa- and asked him to summon Raziel at Lake Lyn. He did and when Raziel was summoned, Jonathan begged him to mix his blood with his to create a new superhero race of people who could defeat the demons. Raziel saw that Jonathan had good intentions so he agreed and then gave him to The Mortal Instruments- like Uncle Simon’s band’s name!- then Jonathan used the cup to turn his sister Abigail and his best friend David into Shadowhunters. David and Jonathan were inspired by the story of Jonathan and David in the Bible, so they took that story and created a ceremony where they took eachother’s blood and spoke the oath and put the runes on each other and became the first ever parabatia, but their bond was broken later when David became the first Silent Brother- like Uncle Jem use to be a Silent Brother- and that’s really all we know.” Alec smiles proudly at his son, he was sure to pass all his exams in a few years with flying colors, he could do wonderfully at The Academy if he chooses to go there when he’s older.

“Good job buddy, but remember when you’re writing about this in your tests don’t mention anything unrelated like how Uncle Simon’s band is also called The Mortal Instruments and that Uncle Jem use to be a Silent Brother, okay?” Alec gently says. He doesn’t mind Rafe’s brief diversions from the story, but an examiner certainly will. 

“Okay, I just got excited, sorry.” Rafe quietly says, feeling embarrassed that he got distracted like a little kid .He’s almost 10 now, he’s a big boy, not a little kid anymore, like Max who’s still only 8 or Anna who really is only a baby. 

“It’s okay buddy don’t be sorry, you know I don’t mind you adding in little things like that, but an examiner who doesn’t know us and our family won’t understand it’s relevance and importance and could mark you down, okay?” Alec gently says. Rafe nods his understanding. “Alright, I think that’s enough for today, how about you?” 

“Uh-uh.” Rafe agrees. 

“Come on, lets go see if your papa and Max are finished, then I’ll wake Anna up and we can go to the park if you like.” Alec says, closing the textbook in front of him. 

“Uh-uh! Can we have pizza for dinner, please?” Rafe begs, turning his big brown eyes to his dad, knowing Alec can never resist his eldest child’s puppy dog eyes. 

“Well I’ll talk to papa but I certainly think you’ve earned it today, and I’m sure Max has too.” Alec says, ruffling Rafe’s hair as they walk out of the schoolroom. 

“I’ll go ask papa!” Rafe exclaims, darting out to the living room before Alec can say another word.

When Alec steps into the living room he sees that Magnus and Max have finished their lesson, and both boys are asking for pizza for dinner, so Alec quietly slips into his and Magnus’ room and make his way over to the crib by the bed, where Anna is sitting up, rubbing her eyes. He gently scoops her up and snuggles her close, breathing in her scent and pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“Hi baby.” Alec whispers, as Anna clutches his shirt and buries her face in his chest. “Oh sweetheart are you still tired? Did you have a nice nap?” He softly says, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Come on, lets go see your brothers and papa, that will wake you up.” He grabs her pacifier from the crib and makes his way back into the living room, which has now been cleared up. The minute Anna sees Magnus she perks up and reaches for him. Magnus smiles broadly at his daughter and takes her into his arms, smoothing her hair down and kissing her forehead. 

“There’s my girl, I missed you.” He softly says. 

“Papa’s girl aren’t you Anna?” Alec says in an amused tone, lightly tickling his daughter’s cheek, causing her to squeal with laughter and squirm away from him. 

“You just love being with papa because you know I’ll dress you in something amazing while your daddy would stick you in the first thing he found, isn’t that right my sweet Anna banana?” Magnus lightly says, holding her above his head which makes her scream and giggle with delight. Magnus loves having a little girl to buy adorable dresses and outfits for, there is such a small selection for fashionable boy clothes, especially when those boys are 10 and 8, but for a 2 year old little girl, the sky’s the limit. 

“I just don’t understand the point of putting her in a designer outfit when she’s only going to end up getting half of her meals all over it and ruin it.” Alec says, as Magnus settles Anna back onto his hip. “Our daughter is the messiest little thing alive, you know that.” 

“Yes but at least she’ll be fashionably messy when I dress her.”  Magnus points out. 

“She’s going to end up like Jace if we’re not careful.” Alec teases. Magnus gives a fake gasp of horror and covers one of Anna’s ears. 

“Don’t you dare say such a thing!  You’re going to confident like papa, right Anna? Not an arrogant fool like Uncle Jace.” Magnus coos. Anna smiles up at him in delight and clumsily claps her hands. 

Half an hour later, the little family are walking toward the local park, Alec pushing Anna in her stroller, Magnus at his side and Max and Rafe running up ahead. As they walk, Magnus’ phone begins to buzz in his pocket. 

“Hello?” He answers a few seconds later.

“Hey, it’s me.” Catarina’s voice comes down the line and a smile breaks out on Magnus’ voice. 

“Oh Cat! Good to hear from you! Listen, Ragnor, Tessa and I are going out next week, do you want to come?” He asks, as Alec walks ahead a little bit so as not to listen in on Magnus’ private conversation. 

“Id love to however I actually called about something in specific.” Catarina tells him. 

“Oh what’s that?” He asks. 

“Well a few weeks ago the hospital asked me if I could work on the maternity ward for a while, cover maternity leave ironically. A couple of weeks ago a young girl was admitted with bleeding, thankfully she and the baby are fine, but I grew close with her and got to talk with her a lot. She’s only 16 and not ready to be a mother yet at all, she’s planning to place her baby for adoption, I showed her yours and Alec’s profile and she took to you straight away, she’s not in hospital anymore but we keep in touch and she’s always asking me things about you and Alec, she really wants to meet you, if you’re interested.” Magnus stops dead in his tracks when Catarina finishes her story. Not long ago he and Alec agreed that they would like to extend their family for the last time. At one point in time Tessa had been an adoption consultant and helped bring together many children and parents, so she helped them create a profile book, which she then took a few copies of to give to any clients she and Jem got who were looking to place their child for adoption, and Catarina took another bunch to do the same. 

“R-really? We only made up the booklet a few months ago.”  Magnus says in a breathy tone, beginning to walk again and running a hand through his hair. 

“I know but it can happen very quickly, I know with Max, Rafe and Anna you all found each other by fate, but with a profile book to show expectant mothers and adoption consultants it can happen much more quickly.” Catarina explains. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No! We do! I mean, I’ll have to speak with Alec about it but I’m certain he will want this as much as I do, what’s the mother’s name? Is she mundane, Nephilim,what?” Magnus asks.

“Her name is Molly Bridgestock, she’s a Shadowhunter, from a very high up, proud, old Shadowhunter family. Her parents threatened to kick her out if she didn’t give up the baby, when I heard this I offered for her to stay with me or offered to contact Tessa, see if she and Jem could help, but Molly says she’s doing this adoption on her own terms, she loves her baby but she knows she can’t give them the life they deserve, though I do worry how her parents will react when they find out you’re a Warlock and you and Alec are a gay couple, Molly is completely fine with it, she was awe-struck when she saw Alec’s picture, truth be told I think she has a little crush on your Consul Ligthwood.” Magnus laughs lightly, not surprised that this young girl has a crush on his gorgeous husband, he can’t understand how everyone in the world isn’t in love with Alec. 

“That doesn’t sound like a good home for any child, is Molly safe?” Magnus asks in a concerned tone, more than willing to take in both this young girl and her child, if need be. 

“She says she is but I just don’t know, her parents are very ‘traditional’ if you know what I mean.” Catarina tells him. 

“Yes unfortunately I do. I’ll talk to Alec and get back to you, in the meantime can you give Molly my number and address and let her know our door is always open for her? We would take Molly in and help her raise her baby herself if she wants.” Magnus softly says, wanting to do all he can for a child in need. 

“Of course, talk to you soon.” Catarina says, before hanging up. 

Over the next half hour or so, while Max, Rafe and Anna tire themselves out in the park, Magnus explains the whole situation to Alec. Alec agrees to meet Molly and adopt her baby if that’s what she wants, or to take her in and help her raise the baby, either, whatever she wants. 

Magnus calls Catarina back and arranges a meeting with Molly for a few days from now, at their home. 

Three days later, it is a bright, breezy day, oddly warm for the middle of February. Alec has just gotten back from dropping the kids off with Maryse, while Magnus stayed behind to make sure everything was perfect for Molly’s visit. She is due to arrive any minute now, and he and Alec are doing everything they can to stay calm.

At 2:00 p.m. on the dot, there is a light knock on the door and Magnus and Alec exchange nervous glances, before Magnus goes to answer the door. When he opens the door, he is struck by how young the girl standing in front of him looks. According to Catarina she is sixteen, but she barely looks it, with brown skin, long black hair falling around her shoulders and bright green eyes, she looks like she should be preparing for her first Clave Exam, not preparing to have a baby.He can’t help but think that this could be his daughter or one of his nieces in the near future, and his heart goes out to this young girl, who is doing this alone with no support from her family. He doesn’t understand parents who turn their back on their children, no matter what his kids do he will always, always love them and support them.

“You must be Molly.” Magnus says, smiling warmly at the young girl standing in front of him. 

“As far as I’m aware.” She replies with a grin. ‘Sarcastic, Rafe is going to love her.’ Magnus thinks to himself. 

“Come in and make yourself at home, we’re so glad you wanted to meet us.” Magnus says, guiding her into the living room where Alec is waiting. 

“I’m glad you agreed to meet me, I’ve considered a few other people as parents to this baby, but when Catarina showed me your profile book it just felt right, I mean the idea of my baby being raised by The Consul and The High Warlock of Brooklyn is pretty amazing.” Molly says, her hand resting on her protruding stomach. 

“I’m glad you think so, though our kids often seem to think we are the worst dad and papa in the world because we won’t let them have chocolate for breakfast, I don’t know why we let their aunts and uncles look after them anymore honestly, their grandmother feeds them properly but Alec’s brother and sister seem to only feed them junk.” Magnus says in an amused tone.Though really he can’t complain, the last time he and Alec looked after Mina, Tessa had nearly throttled him when he sent Mina back hyper as hell.

“You’ll have to excuse my husband being a hypocrite Molly, a few weeks ago we were looking after one of our nieces and Magnus gave her basically all the chocolate in the house, her mother almost killed him when she found out.” Alec says in an amused tone, as Molly and Magnus walk into the living room. Molly laughs lightly and says 

“Can’t say I wouldn’t do the same, are your other children here?” Magnus indicates for her to take a seat. 

“No, they’re with my mom, we thought it would be best if this first meeting is just the three of us, but if things work out you can meet them another time.” Alec says. 

“Alright.” Molly says with a smile and a nod. “I don’t have that many questions for you, just one.” She adds. 

“What is it?” Alec asks, grasping Magnus’ hand in his. 

“Would you be okay with the adoption being open? Or at least semi-open? I want to be a part of the baby’s life, I want to be able to visit him and watch him grow up, and be there for him to ask questions when he’s older, and I don’t want the fact that he’s adopted to be a secret from him, I’m not saying I want to be his mother or anything, but I’d like to be like an Aunt to him.” Molly quietly says. She knew from the minute she found out about the baby that she couldn’t fully part with him forever, she knew placing him for adoption was the best for him, but she couldn’t hand him over and never see him again, though that’s exactly what her parents want. They wanted to send her away for the duration of the pregnancy and arrange to have the baby adopted out themselves, a closed adoption. They claimed it was for Molly’s sake and to save her reputation but she knows better, she knows it’s for their sake and that they’re ashamed of her and her baby,

“Yes we are absolutely fine with that, we never personally set out to have closed adoptions with Max, Rafe and Anna, it just worked out that way really, we know nothing about Max’s parents, he was abandoned, Rafe’s parents were killed in the Dark War with Sebastian, and Anna was abandoned too, but we’ve always been open to any form of adoption.” Magnus explains. “My friend Tessa Carstairs use to be an adoption consultant, she can help with the legal side of things.” He adds. Molly smiles and visibly relaxes. 

“Okay great, you can ask me any questions you have now.” She says, glad to have at least one worry off her mind. 

“You said ‘him’ when talking about the baby, do you know you’re having a boy?” Alec asks in a hopeful tone. He’d like to know if he and Magnus are going to have another son or daughter, he’ll be thrilled either way but he would like to know before the baby is born. 

“No I don’t know for sure, I just have a feeling he’s a boy, but if you two want to find out I’m happy to ask Brother Enoch at my next check up.” Molly replies.

“How far long are you?” Magnus asks, trying to calculate by the size of her stomach, even though he knows that’s not very accurate. When Tessa had been 6 months pregnant with Mina, Magnus had thought she was full term and asked if she was far from her due date, Tessa had almost killed him. It’s surprising Magnus is still alive, the amount of times he’s done something to warrant leaving Tessa ready to kill him.

“5 months, I’m due at the beginning of July.” Molly tells them, rubbing her bump. 

“I’m sorry if this is a sensitive issue and you don’t have to answer if you don’t  want to, but is the father in the picture?” Alec gently asks. Molly blushes and shakes her head. 

“No, I-I don’t actually know who the father is, it was a one-night stand, I don’t remember his name, what he looked like or anything, so you don’t have to worry about him.” Molly quietly says in a tone of embarrassment. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed Molly, these things happen, it doesn’t make you a bad person or anything.” Magnus gently says. 

“I’m sorry I brought it up, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Alec softly says. 

“No it’s okay, you have a right to know.” Molly says, taking a breath to ward off the tears. 

The three of them continue to talk for another hour or so, getting to know each other and their situations. 

“Well.” Molly says an hour later, once they’ve spoken about anything and everything. “I made up my mind before I even met you, I’m choosing you as my baby’s parents.” 

“Thank you, we promise we will give your baby the most amazing life, and you can be as involved as much as you like.” Alec says in a strained tone of joy. 

“I know things aren’t great at home, you could stay with us if you like, you can stay for as long as you want, we have the room and we could take care of you and the baby.” Magnus offers, unable to not offer help to a child in need. 

“That’s very kind of you but I actually recently moved out of my parents house, I’m staying with a friend and their parents are extremely kind and good to me.” Molly says. Magnus relaxes at this, knowing he won’t have to worry about his child and the mother of his child as much. 

“Well I’m glad, but please know that our door is always open, before and after the baby is born.” Magnus gently says. Molly smiles broadly and says

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” That night, for the first time in months, Molly is able to sleep peacefully, knowing her child is going to have the most wonderful life, being raised by two of the kindest, most caring people she has ever met.

Over the next few months, Magnus and Alec tell their friends and family about the baby and start to prepare for their child’s arrival. Shortly after meeting Molly, she invited them to attend her 6 month check up with Brother Enoch, where it was confirmed she was carrying a boy. Max and Rafe are thrilled at the idea of having a little brother, though Anna isn’t too sure about it yet.  

Alec insists on decorating the nursery by hand, not allowing Magnus to use his magic to fix it up. This is the first time they’ll have a new-born, Max was almost 1 when he was adopted, Rafe was 5 and Anna was a few months old. This baby will be days old when they bring him home, and they’ll get to be there for his birth, get to hold him and love him straight away. 

While Tessa was helping Magnus, Alec and Molly with the legal side of the adoption, she offered to deliver the baby, having spent years as a midwife (Alec wondered if there was anything Tessa hadn’t done.) and delivered hundreds of babies, including her own grandchildren. Molly happily accepted and ended up having the majority of the rest of her prenatal check ups from Tessa.

They decide to name Ragnor and Tessa as the baby’s godparents. Ragnor was surprisingly good with children, Mina absolutely adores him and is always asking about her Uncle Ragnor and it never fails to make Tessa, Catarina and Magnus laugh, to see their foreboding, grumpy green friend, wrapped around the finger of a little four year old.

Right now, its the last week in  June, and Molly is due in just two weeks and Magnus and Alec are gathering together just a few last things for their son. They picked out a name a few weeks ago but decided to keep it a secret until the baby is born. 

Currently, Alec is sitting at the kitchen table with Anna in his lap, scribbling on a piece of paper, while he talks with Clary, who is sitting across from him at the table, with her and Jace’s newborn son Stephen, asleep in a sling across her chest. 

“So how’s Lucie adjusting to having Stephen around?” Alec asks, knowing that his little niece was not too happy about having a brother, when Clary was pregnant. 

“Really well actually, she adores him. I was painting the other day and had Stephen on a blanket on the floor beside me, I looked over at him at one stage and found Lucie curled up beside him, telling him stories, it was the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.” Clary says in a fond tone, looking into the living room, where Jace is standing with Lucie on his back, her arms linked around his neck. Lucie is such a daddy’s girl, she has Jace wrapped tightly around her little finger and has done since the day she was born. Jace is a big softie when it comes to his kids, he’s happy to sit and have tea parties all day with Lucie, and he loves to sit at the piano with Stephen and play for him. Often on sleepless nights, Jace will take Stephen downstairs to the music room and play for him until he falls asleep. 

“Hopefully Anna warms up to her brother just as well, Max and Rafe can’t wait to meet him, but Anna isn’t too sure about him.” Alec says, running his hand over his daughter’s blonde curls. 

“I’m sure she will, Maryse was telling me the other day how jealous you were of Izzy when she was born.” Clary says in an amused tone. 

“Oh no, did she get out the baby pictures again?” Alec asks. Maryse loves to tell embarrassing stories about Izzy, Alec and Jace to Clary, Magnus and Simon, and the kids love hearing stories about their parents as little kids. 

“Of course, I never realized how much Jessie looks like Izzy, if you put a baby picture of the two of them side by side you could hardly tell the difference, and Stephen is his dad’s twin.” Clary says. 

“And Lucie is your twin, Jocelyn showed me your baby pictures the other day, when she and Luke were looking after the kids for us for a while.” Alec says with a smile. Little Lucie has ginger red curls like her mother, as well as her pale skin, freckles, green eyes and her bone structure, all she got from Jace it seems, are his eye shape, mouth shape and nose shape.

“Ugh of course she did, Stephen I promise I’m never going to be as embarrassing as your nana okay?” Clary coos, dropping a kiss to her son’s curly blonde head. 

Just then Alec feels a hand on his shoulder, and twists in his seat to see Magnus standing behind him.

“Hey, you okay? You look worried.” Alec gently asks, taking Magnus’ hand from his shoulder and pressing a kiss to it. 

“I just got a call from Tessa, she and Jem are with Molly, she asked them to come around because she was bleeding a bit and having pains but she wasn’t sure if it was labor or not and didn’t want to worry us if it was nothing, but Tessa’s checked her over and it is labor. They’re at the Basilias.” Alec’s eyes widen and his heart begins to race, their son is going to be born in the next couple of hours, they’re going to be parents again. 

“You guys go, I’ll call mom to come pick up the kids and Clary and I will stay with them until she gets here.” Jace says, coming up to stand beside Magnus. 

“Really? Are you sure?” Alec ask, trying to keep the panic out of his tone. 

“Positive, now go, you don’t want to miss your son’s birth.” Jace says, taking Anna from Alec and lightly shoving his parabatia toward the door.

Magnus and Alec quickly gather a few clothes and such for the baby and quickly portal to The Basilias,which is now located in New York.

When they arrive, Jem is waiting for them to show them to Molly’s room.

“Is Molly alright, is the baby alright?” Alec asks in a frantic tone filled with worry. Jem smiles understandingly, having been just as anxious and worried when Tessa was in labor with Mina. 

“They’re both fine Alec, Tessa gave Molly a painkilling spell so she’s much more comfortable, there are no problems with the baby either, come on I’ll take you into Molly.” Jem calmly says, gesturing  for Magnus and Alec to follow him.

Jem leads them into a sterile white room with an en suite bathroom, a bed,a few chairs, a tray by the bed and a nightstand. Molly is half lying half sitting in the bed, propped up by a mountain of fluffy white pillows, dressed in a white and blue hospital gown. Tessa is standing beside her, talking quietly to her.

Magnus and Alec stay with Molly throughout the rest of her labor, while Tessa and Jem come in from time to time to check up on her and the baby. 

When it comes time to push, Tessa sits at the bottom of the bed, ready to deliver the baby, Jem stands off to the side so that he can be on hand if anything goes wrong but he’s not so close that he’s crowding Molly, and Magnus and Alec stand on either side of her. Molly grips both Magnus and Alec’s hands in hers, drawing strength and comfort from them being there. She is just so glad she isn’t doing this alone.

Her labor is long and painful and as the time goes on, the painkilling spell begins to wear off and Molly begins to feel almost everything, while growing more and more tired, feeling like it will never be over. 

“Oh God I can’t do this anymore.” Molly weakly says, as the contraction eases and she leans back into the pillows, grimacing in pain. 

“Of course you can, I know how difficult this is for you and how painful it is, but you are so close, I can see the baby’s head, you’re almost there now.” Tessa gently reassures her. 

“You’re doing so well Molly, like Tessa said it will be over soon, then your life can go back to normal, you won’t have to deal with all this pain and morning sickness and all that anymore.” Alec gently says, squeezing her hand encouragingly, trying his best to be helpful. He’d never been present for any birth before, he had no idea how to comfort a laboring mother. He knew he should’ve asked Jace for advice, even though he was more of a wreck during Lucie and Stephen’s births than Clary was. Maybe he should’ve gone to Jem, or Simon.

“I just want it to be over.” Molly weakly says in a teary tone, her breath hitching in her throat as another contraction hits.

“I know darling I know, and it will be soon, and it will be all worth it, I promise you it will, I know this isn’t a typical situation but you will get to be in your baby’s life, you’ll get to hold him and love him as much as you want, while carrying on with your own life, knowing that he’s in good hands.” Magnus calmly says, rubbing soothing circles on Molly’s back. He can’t imagine how bittersweet this moment must be for her, not long from now she’ll get to meet and hold her baby, but she’ll also be placing him with someone else, unless she changes her mind at the last second, which is something Magnus has been worried about for the last 4 months. 

At 4:21 p.m. on the 16th of June 2016, Molly gives birth to a beautiful healthy baby boy, who looks just like her, with tanned skin, a mop of black hair and vibrant green eyes. 

“By The Angel, he’s perfect.” Alec says in a breathy tone, gently stroking his son’s bloody cheek, once Tessa has laid the baby on a blanket on Molly’s chest. 

“Molly you did so well, you are absolutely amazing biscuit.” Magnus softly says, gently squeezing her hand and brushing her hair back from her face. Normally Magnus reserves that nickname for Clary, but he has a feeling he and Molly will grow to be as close as he and Clary, and the nickname suits her.

“Thanks.” Molly says in a breathy tone, still trying to catch her breath, feeling as though she’s just run a marathon. 

"Hello little one, your siblings are going to adore you, and your grandma is going to spoil you rotten.” Magnus quietly says, turning to look at his son. 

“Anna is going to be so mad she’s still the only girl.” Alec says in an amused tone, knowing how much Anna wanted a sister, she thought it was only fair that the baby be a girl, since she already had two brothers.

“Do you want to hold him?” Molly asks, once Tessa has helped her wrap the baby up to keep him warm. 

“You hold him first Alexander.” Magnus says. Alec carefully and expertly gathers the baby into his arms, and is instantly brought back to the first time he held Max, then Rafe and then Anna. Holding his son he feels a sense of peace settle over him, and somehow he knows that his family is complete. 

“Hi baby, I love you.” Alec quietly says, taking the baby’s tiny hand in his and pressing a kiss to it. 

“What are you going to call him?” Molly asks, as Magnus joins Alec and slips an arm around him and their son. 

“You tell her.” Alec encourages his husband, stroking the baby’s hand with his thumb. 

Magnus looks from his baby to Molly and proudly says

“Henry, his name is Henry Jonathan Lightwood-Bane.” 

“Oh, after our Henry?” Tessa quietly asks in a tight tone, as Jem slips an arm around her waist in an attempt to comfort her. Magnus smiles sadly and nods, grieving for his old friend. 

“Yes, Henry was one of the greatest friends I ever had, he was a wonderful man and I can only hope my son grows up to be like him too.”  He quietly says, looking down at little Henry in Alec’s arms. 

“He’d be honored Magnus, and with parents like you and Alec, you can be sure he’ll grow up to a wonderful young man.” Jem kindly says, which makes his wife tear up even more. 

“And you say you don’t have a way with words, James Carstairs.” Jem laughs lightly and presses a kiss to his wife’s temple and whispers to her 

“Well it seems we’re going to have to come up with a different middle name for our son.” Making sure that Magnus and Alec aren’t looking, Tessa rests her hand on her belly and softly says

“Nathaniel, William Nathaniel.” 

Just a few hours later Magnus and Alec head home with Henry, with promises to send Molly lots of pictures and an open invitation for her to come visit whenever she’s ready. 

That night, back in Magnus and Alec’s loft, little Henry lays sleeping soundly in his bassinet by his parents bed, while they try and settle Anna in her new room. Half an hour after being put to bed, little Henry wakes up and starts to fuss when he realizes he’s alone. Just then two figures materialize either side of his bassinet. On his right is a tall thin man, with kind hazel eyes and wild ginger hair, dressed in a white shirt, a red waistcoat and black trousers. On the left of the bassinet, is a small thin woman with flowing brown hair and kind brown eyes, dressed in a flowing teal evening gown, that looks like it’s from the Victorian Era. 

“Shh little one you’re alright, don’t cry sweet boy, you’re safe.” Charlotte Fairchild soothes the baby, reaching out to stroke his cheek. 

“He’s beautiful.” Henry Fairchild quietly says, marveling at the tiny creature in the bassinet, bringing him back to when his boys were little. 

“Oh he really is, I can’t believe it’s been so long since our boys were this little, or our girls for that matter. Oh Henry can you believe they named him after you?” Charlotte asks in an excited tone. She and Henry had been shocked when they learned this little boy’s name from Will, who would often come and go to see Mina and Kit. Henry was and is honored and delighted that his old friend still thinks about him and has named his son after him.

“No I’m still rather shocked, but delighted. I’m so happy for Magnus Lottie, he was so miserable for so long before he met Alec.” Henry softly says, smiling down at the little baby. 

“Me too, Alexander is so like Gideon, and he looks so much like Will, it must hurt Tessa terribly.” Charlotte says in a concerned tone. She’s always looked out for her Tessa, and has always worried about her, even though Jem has always been there to keep her safe and Tessa is more than capable of protecting herself.  

“Our Tessa is stronger than that, she has learned how to cope with her grief, the sight of anything that reminds her of Will no longer drives her into despair and she’s happy now too, now she has Jem, Christopher and Mina.” Henry says. 

“True enough, now we better get this fussy little boy settled, if he’s anything like his name sake he should be dead to the world in no time, isn’t that right sweet boy?” Charlotte coos, smiling as the baby grabs at her hand and stares up at her in awe. Henry smiles warmly at his wife and says 

“Where did you think Matthew got his ability to sleep through anything, from? But you’re right as usual Lottie, you should sing to him, our four always loved when you sang to them.” Henry suggests. 

“Well it’s been years since I’ve sang a lullaby, but I suppose I could try.” Charlotte shyly says. 

In no time at all, Little Henry starts to drift off to the sound of his Aunty Charlotte’s voice, while his Uncle Henry sits beside him and holds his little hand, assuring him that he’s not alone. 

[pointy-hat-witch]

Title: Teach me how to love Show: Haikyuu!! Pairing: Iwaizumi/Oikawa Summary: Oikawa is a lone wolf and needs company and fate has it that brings Iwaizumi and him together so they can learn to love. <3 College AU/Slow Build A/N: Took me way too long for this omg. It’s a really, really late birthday present and I’m so happy I could finally give it to them!! I hope you all enjoy it!

You can read it on AO3 if you want to! :)

The poem at the end/beginning is inspired by this post!

Once upon a time, a boy loved another boy god, how he loved him and the other boy loved him too more than he could say

Oikawa was in his 3rd Semester when he was on his way to his only 8 a.m. lecture. Fortunately, his professor seemed to like it as much as their students, so everyone knows they always show up about 15 minutes late. Oikawa didn’t have to hurry.

He bought his coffee to-go at the train station and absentmindedly looked at his phone, scrolling through some news. He just put the cup to his lips, blew the steam away that always clouded his glasses, when someone ran into him from behind.

“Ah!“ Oikawa fell flat on his face, the coffee, fortunately, spilled mostly away from him. The other person tumbled over one time and almost was on his feet again when Oikawa sat up, scratching his nose.

“Look where you’re-“ Oikawa spat out until he looked into the deepest brown eyes he had ever seen. “-going.” He finished.

“I’m sorry!” the other boy yelled as he sprung to his feet and sprinted away.

Oikawa blinked a few times until he got himself up again. He groaned. His coffee was done for, his coat sprinkled with coffee stains. Great. That’s how his day had to start.

He grabbed his bag, pushed his hands deep into his pockets and tramped to his class. This encounter woke him up more than any coffee probably would and with his frustration, Oikawa was the only one who actually paid attention in class and discussed a few things with the professor, earning him a clap on his shoulder, when he left the classroom.

“Haa.” Oikawa exhaled when he went outside again. He still had 2 hours until practice and since he didn’t have his morning coffee, his stomach was growling for something. The cafeteria it is. The way to the cafeteria was a short one since his department had their own cafeteria because it was more secluded from the other departments and most of the time there weren’t a lot of people. Oikawa welcomed this especially at 10 a. m. in the morning without coffee.

He entered through the two-winged door and rummaged through his wallet to find his student ID card. When he looked up his eyes met the deep brown eyes from this morning. He stopped dead in his tracks as did the other one.

He averted his gaze and for a moment Oikawa thought, the boy would dash. He crossed his arms and tapped with his foot on the floor, like a scolding mother. The other man exhaled and slowly closed the distance.

“Hey.” He greeted through gritted teeth, making Oikawa raise an eyebrow.

“Hey.”

“So”, he scratched the back of his head. “This morning … I didn’t mean to, uhm--“, he seemed to look for the right words.

“Didn’t mean to run into me? Didn’t mean to spill my coffee all over me? Didn’t mean to sprain my ankle?”

“You’re hurt?!” The brown eyes lit up with panic and he was already about to bow in apology.

“No.” Oikawa tutted. “But I could have been!” Theatrically Oikawa put his hands against his forehead and leaned back.

“Oh.” The other one stood up straight again. “You’re just a little shit. No need for an apology, I guess.”

Oikawa audibly snapped for air. “How rude!” he pouted.

The other student scratched his head once more and groaned. “Alright. Can I make up for it?”

“For running into me or for being rude?”

The dark brown eyes flared up and Oikawa rowed back. “Yes, you may. I want another coffee. And”, Oikawa already walked past him and gestured him to follow, “I’m Oikawa.”

Oikawa could feel how the other one rolled his eyes but he followed nonetheless.

“Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi Hajime.”

Oikawa smiled his most perfect smile. “Nice to meet you, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi followed Oikawa disgruntled to the counter at which he already placed his order. “Hello, one black coffee, please.” Oikawa could feel the raised eyebrows and looked back to Iwaizumi.

“What?” He narrowed his eyes a little but kept his smile on his lips.

“Didn’t think you were one of the polite ones.” Iwaizumi shrugged, already fumbling with his wallet. Oikawa let out a fake gasp and stemmed his hands at his hip.

“Because I’m not as rude as you. It’s called decency.”

“Whatever.” Iwaizumi handed the cashier, a blonde young girl,  500 Yen with the remark “Keep the change”, and nodded Oikawa with him.

“Alright, so you’re just rude but generous. Noted.” Oikawa grinned and followed Iwaizumi through the few tables to one at which two people sat already. They looked up when Iwaizumi approached the table.

“Back already?” asked one of them and cocked his eyebrow when he sees Oikawa directly behind him.

Iwaizumi motioned Oikawa to sit down.

“Run into some … trouble.” He gestured between the three males back and forth. “Oikawa, Hanamaki, Matsukawa. Greetings and all of that.”

Oikawa was uncharacteristically silent when they approached because he had to brace himself with the sudden social interaction he wasn’t prepared to handle. He put on one of his best smiles on and sat down next to Iwaizumi, leaning back into his chair as relaxed as possible.

“Nice to meet you.”

The other boys nodded at Oikawa and at the same time giving Iwaizumi a more than questioning look which Oikawa more than happy answered.

“He had to pay a debt from this morning. Charming, isn’t he?”

Iwaizumi huffed. “If I were you, I would be careful what I’m saying. The coffee is still hot.” Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed as he leaned on the table with his elbows. Hanamaki and Matsukawa kept their snickering hidden by their hands, but Iwaizumi still shot them a glare.

“Do you want to say something?”

“Nope. Everything’s fine.” Hanamaki continued to slurp at his coffee and Matsukawa tapped on his phone. Both highly exaggerated.

They kept talking about an hour which was more relaxing than Oikawa expected and more than once he genuinely had to laugh. With their outgoing personality, Matsukawa and Hanamaki got their hands on Oikawa’s number and made Iwaizumi share his one as well.

The next day, Oikawa either deliberately or unconsciously, he didn’t even know himself, wandered to the cafeteria at the same time as the day before and found Hanamaki and Matsukawa alone, this time. The day after he found the three of them together and the day after that he was alone with Iwaizumi who was studying intently.

Oikawa sat down on the other side of the table and looked at Iwaizumi expectantly.

“What?” Iwaizumi huffed. One of his books lay open next to his coffee and he didn’t even bother looking up.

“Aw, I was waiting for a cheerful ‘hello’ or ‘good morning’ and this is what I get?” Oikawa gasped theatrically.

“You didn’t deserve one, yet.” Iwaizumi slurped on his coffee, flinching as the hot beverage burnt his tongue. Oikawa blinked and leaned over.

“Want me to kiss it better?”

Eyes wide and with a tinge of pink on his cheeks, Iwaizumi looked up. “What the fuck? No.” He shoved his hand into Oikawa’s face and pushed him away.

“Rude, Iwa-chan!”, he cried and rubbed his nose.

Iwaizumi, unimpressed, kept reading, his lips a little pursed. He already got used to Oikawa’s nicknames, since Oikawa did the same to ‘Mattsun’ and ‘Makki’.

They spent their lunch in silence, which Oikawa felt rather pleasant to his surprise. When Iwaizumi finally closed his book, exasperated leaning back, Oikawa smiled fondly at him.

“Such a dedicated student. You should get a reward.”

Iwaizumi pinched his nose and blinked but Oikawa had already left the table. He came back within a few minutes and presented Iwaizumi with a croissant sprinkled with chocolate chips.

“Thanks.” Iwaizumi said before stopping himself and Oikawa gave him one of his genuine smiles. Sometimes it felt good to do someone a favor without an ulterior motive.

“Well, then. Have to go. Don’t study too much, Iwa-chan, your brain wouldn’t take it.” He waved goodbye and as he turned around, he heard a growl and a second later a scrunched-up paper hit his head.

“Rude!” he cried with a smile on his lips.

In the next two weeks, it was almost routine to run into each other at that cafeteria. Oikawa wasn’t sure they did that on purpose or if he just never paid attention to his surroundings. But it was a welcomed change. Oikawa had resorted to keep to himself so much, a defense mechanism he adapted for not being hurt by people who were wandering out of his life in a second.

Most of the times, it was all four of them but sometimes it was just him and Iwaizumi and whenever that was the case, Oikawa’s chest filled with warmth despite the cold autumn season.

It was on a Friday, Oikawa already done with his studies he wanted just a relaxed weekend when he woke up about an hour before his alarm was set. A pain crawled into his chest, clinging around his heart, robbing him from his breath.

Oikawa sat up, leaning over and grabbing at his shirt. He gasped for air and what seemed to be an eternity but actually just a few seconds, the pain faded. Oikawa grunted, sweating. He rubbed his chest and took a few deep breaths.

“Already?” He huffed to himself. He will never get used to this pain.

It took him about all his energy to get up and get ready for uni, already braced himself to play his part for today. On his way to his class, he put on his best smile and whenever he passed someone who’s eyes lingered for a second on him, he gave them a flashing smile and a wink as he passed by.

After two lectures, his cheeks hurt from all the smiling, and when he finally got to the cafeteria he was excessively happy to rest them for a while.

He slumped down next to Iwaizumi who tried to explain Matsukawa and Hanamaki the interaction between muscles, stress, and pressure. He didn’t look up when Oikawa leaned back and slurped on his coffee.

“Hey, wanna go on a group date with some girls?” Oikawa interrupted his explanation and earned a ‘tch’ from his side.

“Where does that come from?” Hanamaki and Matsukawa almost asked in unison. “Lonely at night?” Hanamaki wiggled his eyebrows.

“I can’t hide someone like this forever”, Oikawa made a wide gesture to himself, “this is made to make people happy. In more than one way, if you know what I mean.” A smug grin on his lips. He glanced over to Iwaizumi who was surprisingly silent and just looked at him.

Matsukawa leaned back. “Well, if you want someone why do we have to tag along if you just get away with all of them?”

“Mattsun! I would never! I am a good friend and want my friends to be happy as well. And who am I do deny you such pleasure yourself?” He grinned, pulling out his phone. “I have a few numbers on hold, so, four for us?” He glanced around the table, somehow awaiting some reaction from Iwaizumi who just folded his arms.

“Four it is.” He decided and began tipping furiously and within a minute he pushed his phone back into his pocket. “Tomorrow, 2 p.m., Café Crow’s Nest.”

“How…?” Hanamaki shook his head. “How can an asshole like you get a date, four dates just like that?”

Oikawa leaned his chin on the palm of one hand and circled the rim of this cup. “First of all, I’m not an asshole, excuse you”, he blinked in played offense, “and secondly, I’m only an asshole to you all.”

His grin was smacked away by a hit to the back of his head by Iwaizumi. “Don’t feel all high and mighty ‘bout that, Trashykawa. You’re not as special as you think.”

“Iwa-chan!” 

Matsukawa and Hanamaki snickered behind their hands and Oikawa looked at them equally feeling betrayed.

“Here I am, showing you the way to adulthood and this is your thanks?!” He pouted and leaned back with his arms folded.

“We can climb that staircase just fine, thank you very much, your Majesty.” Hanamaki threw scrunched up paper beads at him which Oikawa chose to ignore.

The next day, Oikawa woke up to a similar pain in his chest, heaving for air when the sun started to rise. He rubbed his chest and got up, no way he would get any more sleep. He had more than enough time to go for a run and had a nice, warm shower. He needed some time to tame his hair but after half an hour he was happy with it.

He put on some clothes that were not his usual taste, but he already knew that most people he went out with didn’t like his choice of colors and patterns. Boring.

Oikawa stood at about 1:45 p.m. in front of the station and waited for his friends. It didn’t take them long to show up and with a small, small flap to his heart he saw Iwaizumi dressed up, even if that meant, he didn’t just wear a hoodie but a button-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up. Oikawa swallowed down whatever he was feeling and grinned at them.

“You all ready, boys?”

As answer, they all groaned in unison and walked past him.

“Oi!” Oikawa spun around and fell in line. “Why are you so mean?!”

“Because we love you, Oikawa.” Matsukawa deadpanned, eyes on his phone. He didn’t see the fright that was visible on Oikawa’s face for just a split second.

“Mattsun! Did you just confess your undying love to me? I am so flattered, but, y’know, I think we need more time.” Oikawa put his hand on Matsukawa's shoulder and shook his head. “Please don’t be too upset.”

Hanamaki grinned at Matsukawa. “You just got rejected my friend, from no one else but Oikawa. How does that feel?”

Matsukawa made a face and even Iwaizumi snorted at them.

The Crow’s Nest wasn’t far away, and Oikawa didn’t hesitate and entered first of them. He took a look through the room which was roomier than the outside presumed. He spotted a table with four women, all sitting side by side and were watching the door. A winning smile found its way on Oikawa’s face.

In the few seconds it took him to cross the room to them, he scanned their reaction to him. Oikawa had learned to discern between superficial and genuine interest. The woman to the far left looked at him with a spark in her eyes and Oikawa made his choice.

He started from the right to introduce himself and gave everyone his best smile. When he reached the last one, his eyes lingered just a second longer and she noticed, and Oikawa noticed that she noticed by her flushed cheeks.

Iwaizumi took the chair next to him followed by Matsukawa and Hanamaki.

“I hope, you didn’t wait for too long, my apologies.” Oikawa looked at them with almost honest concern for what Iwaizumi kicked his foot.

“Did you already order something?” Oikawa overplayed his aching foot skillfully.

“Not yet, we wanted to wait for you.” The woman in front of Oikawa, Aiko, replied. Oikawa nodded.

“Well, then it’s our duty to get you something! What do you want?”

With Oikawa at their side, the conversation went on smoothly, even though they wouldn’t admit to it, and the conversation in which all took part slowly faded to smaller conversations between two each.

Oikawa couldn’t help but glance over to Iwaizumi from time to time, but to his surprise, Iwaizumi was able to hold a smooth conversation on his own.

“Everything alright?”

Oikawa blinked, and his eyes found Aiko’s again which looked at him in confusion.

“Yes, sure, sorry, I was just thinking about something.”

Wrong thing to say. Aiko cocked her head. “Do I bore you?”

Oikawa could hear the little teasing in her voice and smiled. “On the contrary. I was just thinking about getting out of here for a little more … privacy.” Oikawa intentionally paused to give it more weight and was more than pleased when he felt Iwaizumi tense up next to him.

Aiko’s smile went back up. “Sounds good to me.” She leaned over to her friend and whispered something to her and they both giggled.

Oikawa nudged Iwaizumi at his arm and grinned with a wink. “Good luck to you, you’ll need it.” Iwaizumi’s hand darted up before Oikawa could react. “Ouch!”

They both said their goodbyes to their friends and Oikawa offered Aiko his arm when they went out of the café.

“Such a gentleman”, Aiko quipped but couldn’t hide her red cheeks. Oikawa felt how he was winning at his self-proclaimed game.

They spent the rest of the afternoon and the early evening together, walking around and talking about everything and nothing. Oikawa made sure to always steered the conversation back to her and compliment her in every way possible but tried not to overdo it. And he genuinely had some fun.

Aiko was ambitious, funny, stubborn. Everything could be perfect.

Oikawa brought Aiko back to her apartment and they shared a short kiss. Aiko smiled behind her hand and waved as she went in. Oikawa waited until she was out of sight until he dared to stop smiling.

On his way back to the train station he pulled out his phone and opened his messenger app.

-- Hanamaki changed the group name to: 3 aces and Oiks --

You (8:21 pm): rude!! y?

Makki (8:22 pm): you just came home? y not stay over? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

You (8:22 pm): in contrast to some other people I have sth called class

You (8:22 pm): how did u guys do when i was gone?

Mattsun (8:23 pm): good

Makki (8:23 pm): dont play it down you make everyone else jealous

You (8:24 pm):   what did I miss?

Makki (8:24 pm): Matsukawa made the biggest catch

Iwa-chan (8:25 pm): ugh

You (8:25 pm): ???

You (8:25 pm): is it himself

You (8:25 pm): makki do you mean mattsun came home alone and he made out with himself?

Mattsun (8:26 pm): wtf oikawa

Makki (8:26 pm): lol almost

You (8:27 pm): well i don’t wanna boast but i don’t think anyone than i made the biggest catch

You (8:27 pm): so you can’t make me jealous!!!!

Oikawa pocketed his phone and buried his hands with it in his jacket. He didn’t want to think about these girls for the moment. It was too exhausting.

When he came home, he changed and dropped down on his couch and finally took another look at his phone. Hanamaki and Matsukawa spammed their group chat, probably with some bad puns, and another message notification blinked in the background. From Iwaizumi. Oikawa blinked. It was pretty rare that Iwaizumi messaged him first and in private.

Iwa-chan (8:42 pm): oi

Iwa-chan (8:42 pm): so u had a good evening?

You (9:23 pm): iwa-chan!!

You (9:23 pm): were you worried?

You (9:23 pm): next time i text you when i get home!!!

Iwa-chan (9:24 pm): jump in a lake for all I care

You (9:25 pm): so mean!! youll regret saying that when i AM in a lake

Iwa-chan (9:25 pm): what? thats not what it means stupid

You (9:26 pm): i still stay correct

Iwa-chan (9:27 pm): whatever dont care

You (9:27 pm): i know u do

Iwaizumi didn’t answer, and it was read in his app that he was offline. Oikawa exhaled. Today was more exhausting than the rest of the week combined, and he was wondering why. It wasn’t for sure the first time he had to play gentleman to get his way but today was different. Oikawa felt he was way too distracted and had to concentrate more than ever.

Oikawa had to be more tired than he anticipated because he fell asleep without noticing and only woke up late in the night when his phone lit up in his hand.

His eyes cracked open and he shut them immediately, the bright light blinding him.

“Ugh.” Oikawa fumbled with his phone and through the smallest slit, he managed to dim his display.

Oikawa unlocked his phone to see a message notification by ‘Iwa-chan’. A smile crept onto his face when he opened the message.

Iwa-chan (2:13 am): go to bed

You (2:15 am): iwa-chan r u psychic?

Iwa-chan (2:15 am): I just know you

You (2:16 am): awww yes u do

Oikawa had to gather all his strength to get up from the couch, his joints stiff from laying in a wrong position. He scuffled through his apartment to flop down on his bed. Oikawa winced by the cold bedsheets and curled up under the blanket in hope it will warm up quickly.

He pulled out his phone and opened the message app with Iwaizumi.

You (2:19 am): am in bed

You (2:19 am): u should 2

Iwa-chan (2:20 am): i am just wanted to remind you aswell

Iwa-chan (2:20 am): gn

You (2:21 am): good n8 iwa-chan!!

Oikawa felt a warmth in his chest he couldn’t correlate but it didn’t feel bad, so he didn’t bother. One has to enjoy the little things. He put his phone on his nightstand and fell asleep almost instantly.

The next day was relaxed and Oikawa could sleep in, could go for a run and had a small breakfast. He checked the time when he was eating and still got time before his dinner date with Aiko. He knew he was moving fast. Most of the time, Oikawa took his time but with Aiko, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to spend more time on her than he had to.

The day went by pretty uneventful and Oikawa found himself right on time in front of Aiko’s door. Aiko opened the door and Oikawa gave her an honest smile.

“You look gorgeous.”

Aiko’s cheek turned the slightest pink and then smiled. “Thank you. You don’t look too shabby yourself.”

They walked the way to the restaurant since it wasn’t that far away from her home and the already dark sky looked stunning with all its stars. Their breath formed small clouds in front of them and by the time they arrived at the restaurant, their hands were freezing. Still, they both grinned at each other when they entered. Oikawa thought, if he would be born differently, he could be friends with her.

They were brought to a table in the back and were handed the menus.

“Wow. I’m impressed. Do you take out all the girls to such fancy restaurants?” Aiko had a sparkle in her eyes which told Oikawa that she wanted to pick on him a little bit.

Oikawa replied with the same playing smile. “Only the girls that I like.”

“I feel honored.” Aiko winked and shifted her attention to the menu.

They both ordered some pasta and a dessert and while they were waiting for their food, they made some small talk. Oikawa tried to pay the utmost attention to Aiko and always responded to everything she said.

Dinner went by almost in a blink for Aiko and like a day for Oikawa and their dessert was brought to them. Aiko exhaled in delight when she saw their soufflé.

“Wow. This looks stunning!” She had to pause for a moment to take in the beauty of their dessert but then a frown found its way on her face. “Actually”, she hesitated.

Oikawa looked up and cocked his head to his side. “Is something wrong?”

Aiko didn’t meet his gaze and fumbled with her spoon. She laughed a little nervous.

“A-are you”, Oikawa stammered, “on a diet? I mean, do what you want to do, but believe me, you really don’t have to!” He had grabbed her hand as he stumbled through his assumption.

Aiko giggled behind her other hand. “No, don’t worry. I think I can say, I’m pretty healthy.” She looked down at her hand that was held tightly by Oikawa.

“I just”, she squeezed his hand slightly which he reciprocated. “I just wanted to make sure, you take this serious.” She looked at him with determination that almost made him falter. Just almost.

Oikawa squeezed her hand a little tighter and looked her in the eyes.

“Believe me. I wouldn’t dare to just waste your time. I think”, he swallowed and licked over his dry lips, “I was never this serious about any other girl. I really … I really do like you.”

A slight blush appeared on her cheeks and her lips twisted in a smile unconsciously. She squeezed his hand as well.

“Good, because I really”, she giggled once more, “I really like y-“

Oikawa looked at her. Her eyes were pinned on him and were glistening. He gave her the most earnest smile he could muster at this point.

The glistening in her eyes stopped and a spur of confusion crossed her face. She looked at their hands and pulled her's away.

“I’m sorry, I-“, she grabbed her bag which hung over the back of her chair. “I have to go.” Almost in panic, she rushed out of the restaurant leaving Oikawa by himself. He exhaled. His heart grew warm and full and the underlying pain in his chest faded away.

By now, he was used to this but the whole ordeal still hurt nonetheless. Oikawa grabbed his fork and finished his dessert, paid their meals and headed home. On his way, he deleted Aiko’s number from his phone. She wouldn’t text him again anyway.

Oikawa was exhausted by the time he came home. He threw his coat over the back of his couch, peeled out of his clothes and fell into his bed. He didn’t want to think about Aiko and their dinner anymore. He searched with his hands for his nightstand without looking and fumbled inside the drawer. He pulled out a small bottle of pills, dropped one of them in his palm and swallowed it dry.

The sheets were still cold which made him shiver, so he rolled himself in a small burrito with his blanket and welcomed the dullness which laid over him and dragged him into a deep sleep.

That night Oikawa had the longest dream since forever. He usually never dreams or at least didn’t remember. This time, however, he did remember. The dream started with his earliest memories of his mother and him. They always had only each other but it was more than enough.

The dream fast forwarded through his childhood how they moved from place to place, his mother always meeting different men, but no one ever stayed. He saw flashes of his mother’s face smiling at him but with a hurt in her eyes, he never had understood until now.

This rather peaceful time ended when he turned 13. The pain he was already used to now, had woken him at the dead of night, rushing him into the arms of his mother. She held him crying. For him or for herself, he couldn’t tell.

Another rush of memories flashes in front of him. The girl from fifth grade in the class next to his had always talked to him with a blush on her cheeks and laughing at almost everything he said. She was okay, but he only talked to her because he had to.

“Our hearts, they always want more.” It echoed through the images.

Oikawa talked to the girl more often now and one time, it was raining heavily when they both stood outside the school. Oikawa had an umbrella in one hand and offered it to her.

“We can’t be loved. Yet we live off of love.”

Fast forward again. He sat at the table in front of Aiko, looking at her bright smile and the blush on her cheeks. He managed a smile for her as well. But he knew what will happen eventually. Aiko’s face blend together with the face of the girl from elementary school. They both looked at him with such a beautiful smile as if everything would fall in place but the next moment the ground opened up under him.

They looked at him and every ounce of warmth ceased from their eyes. And they left. Left him falling.

“We steal their hearts and as soon as they fall in love with us, they un-love us.”

He dropped onto the chair again. Blinking he reached for Aiko’s hand again just to hold another hand. He looked up and the face of Iwaizumi greeted him with the most perfect smile. His eyes were gleaming and glued on him.

Oikawa wanted to say something, but his voice refused to work. Iwaizumi threw his head back and laughed, squeezing his hand. Oikawa wanted to scream.

Iwaizumi looked back at him. Warmth and a feeling of security in his gaze. He opened his mouth and … Oikawa saw the sparkle in his eyes disappear. He let go of Oikawa’s hand. He stood up and walked out of the restaurant. Out of his life.

“We are thieves of hearts.”

Oikawa woke up with a cry on his lips and wet eyes. His heart was beating hard in his chest and a different pain settled in. His breath was hitched, and the afterimages of his dream lingered in the darkness.

When he finally calmed down a little, Oikawa pulled up his knees and buried his face in them.

“Iwa-chan…” it was only a shaky breath, but it filled his room and Oikawa felt a longing he didn’t know. Without realizing he had grabbed his cell phone and opened the chat with Iwaizumi.

You (3:34 am): u awake?

Iwa-chan (3:34 am): wtf

Iwa-chan (3:34 am): I was just about to write you to go to bed

Iwa-chan (3:35 am): go to bed

You (3:35 am): aww thanks mom

Iwa-chan (3:36 am): fuck off

You (3:36 am): y r u still awake btw?

Iwa-chan (3:37 am): had to study.

You (3:37 am): iwa-chan i know u r stupid but u shouldnt study this late

Iwa-chan (3:38 am): fuck you

Iwa-chan (3:38 am): im out

You (3:38 am): no!!

You (3:38 am): wait

You (3:38 am): pls

Iwa-chan (3:39 am): …

You (3:39 am): <3

Iwa-chan (3:39 am): whats going on?

Iwa-chan (3:39 am): i think thats the first time u said please to me

You (3:39 am): rude

You (3:39 am): i am always polite

Iwa-chan (3:40 am): so?

Iwa-chan (3:40 am): whats the matter

Oikawa pondered about answering. He had two options: either downplay it and making Iwaizumi mad to the point he really goes offline. Or he could be honest and hope Iwaizumi won’t make fun of him.

He sighed. Iwaizumi had slowly developed the ability to see through his lies, so it would be best not to anger him too much. Especially not at this time. 

You (3:42 am): nightmare

Iwa-chan (3:42 am): oh

Iwa-chan (3:42 am): that sucks

Iwa-chan (3:43 am): do u want to call me?

Oikawa chuckled. He didn’t imagine Iwaizumi to be this considerate.

You (3:43 am): aww no thx

You (3:43 am): talking to u cheered me up already <3

Iwa-chan (3:44 am): then go back to sleep

Iwa-chan (3:44 am): u need all the beauty sleep u can get shittykawa

You (3:45 am): !!!

You (3:45 am): i am speechless

You (3:45 am): this is next lvl rude

You (3:45 am): i have u known that i already got scouted for various model agencies

You (3:46 am): sth u can only dream of

Iwa-chan (3:46 am): sounds like u r fine

Iwa-chan (3:46 am): now sleep

Iwa-chan (3:46 am): goodn8

You (3:46 am): good night iwa-chan!!

You (3:56 am): thanks

On Sunday, Oikawa decided to stay in. He could only handle so much social interaction and the last night with Aiko depleted his energy completely. He didn’t set an alarm and slept in. When he woke up at about noon, the sun was shining through the half-closed blinds.

He groaned. Still sleep drunk Oikawa pulled up his blanket over his head and sighed. It took him another 10 minutes to peel out of his cocoon and fished for his cell phone. To his surprise, he got a message from Iwaizumi.

Iwa-chan (10:15 am): u got lectures tomorrow?

You (12:23 pm): good morning to u too

You (12:23 pm): one in the afternoon

You (12:23 pm): y?

Oikawa closed the messenger app and scrolled through his social media pages to have a small update but when he saw everyone having a good time, his mood was soured and he pushed himself out of his bed. He took his time in the bath, made himself a generous breakfast and sat down on his couch to watch something, anything, while eating.

His phone lit up after some time and flashed ‘Iwa-chan – 1 new message’ over the screen. Oikawa didn’t bother with the TV and unlocked his phone to see the message.

Iwa-chan (1:09 pm): got some time tonight?

You (1:10 pm): iwa-chan

You (1:10 pm): r u asking me for what i think u r asking for?

Iwa-chan (1:10 pm): what are u

Iwa-chan (1:11 pm): hell no!

Iwa-chan (1:11 pm): i already regret asking

You (1:11 pm): u didnt even wait for my answer!!

Iwa-chan (1:12 pm): ?

You (1:12 pm): of course id like to spent my free evening with u iwa-chan!!

Oikawa already learnt that spending time with Iwaizumi didn’t cost any social energy and he could spent all his time with him. He kind of hoped it was the same for Iwaizumi as well.

Iwa-chan (1:12 pm): it would be late

Iwa-chan (1:12 pm): there is a meteor shower at about 11:30

You (1:13 pm): !!!!!

You (1:13 pm): iwa-chan!!!

You (1:13 pm): yes!! where?

Iwa-chan (1:13 pm): the forest behind my apartment

Iwa-chan (1:14 pm): there is a clearing and we could get a good view

You (1:14 pm): u r an angel <3

You (1:14 pm): I bring blankets

You (1:14 pm): and food

Iwa-chan (1:15 pm): sure i bring flashlights

Iwa-chan (1:15 pm): and sth warm to drink

You (1:15 m): cant wait!!

You (1:15 pm): see u ton8 <3

Iwa-chan (1:16 pm): see ya

Oikawa felt giddy. It was one thing meeting Iwaizumi at the cafeteria about every day and another meeting with him in the dead of night to watch the stars. Sometimes even he could have some luck.

He finished his breakfast with a great appetite and right after he looked for some food he could make and bring for tonight. He looked through his fridge and cupboards and after some online research, he decided to make some sandwiches, sausages, some vegetables, and rice.

Fortunately, Oikawa had everything at home and could get to work right away. The sandwiches had different toppings, some had cheese, some had tuna, and some had meat. He wasn’t sure what Iwaizumi liked so he prepared a bit of everything. The sausages he cut in and when they were roasted, they curled up and formed small octopus. For finger food, Oikawa cut some cucumber, carrots, and tomatoes.

When the rice was cooked, Oikawa wanted to fill it in their bento boxes but at the last minute decided differently. He found some leftover nori leaves and tried forming onigiris. It didn’t work as easy as he thought, but he was satisfied. He grinned to himself.

Their bento boxes were ready, and it was only early afternoon. Oikawa groaned. The time was crawling so slowly, it drove him nuts. He packed his bag with some blankets and everything was ready in front of his door, if only it wasn’t just past 5 pm.

The next two hours, Oikawa spent sitting on his couch, watching TV and checking his phone every other minute. These were some very, very long hours. But, alas, the time finally reached about 10 pm and Oikawa sprung up. He decided he’s going to be fashionable early at Iwaizumi’s apartment and then they can go together.

The bus drive to Iwaizumi took about 20 minutes and about 10.30 pm Oikawa stood in front of Iwaizumi’s apartment, ringing the doorbell obnoxiously until Iwaizumi’s voice growled through the intercom.

“Stop it, Shittykawa.”

“Aww, how did you know it was me?”

“Only one person that can be this annoying with just ringing.”

But even though there was a small bite in his voice, the door buzzed open and Oikawa chirped “Thanks!” before entering the apartment complex.

When Oikawa stood in front of Iwaizumi’s door, he realized that his palms were a little bit sweaty and with a confused look on his face, wiped them dry on his pants. He knocked on the door and when Iwaizumi opened, still with a small scowl, a smile found its way naturally to Oikawa.

“Good evening, Iwa-chan. Don’t you want to invite me in?”

Iwaizumi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m beginning to regret this”, he mumbled but, again, despite his words stepped aside and beckoned Oikawa with a nod to come inside.

Iwaizumi’s apartment was pretty much what Oikawa expected. It was a one-room-apartment with an open kitchen to the living room. It was small but enough for one. There were no unnecessary items, no décor, no plants but it was mostly tidied up and everything had its place.

“You’re early.” Iwaizumi remarked as he put a flashlight into his backpack which looked already packed as well.

“Nothing to do anymore. And then I had the brilliant idea that I could come over in case you’re bored.” Oikawa roomed through the small space and inspected everything with curious eyes, to which Iwaizumi crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

“Y’know, people text each other to ask stuff like that beforehand.”

“Where is the fun in that? I surprised you!” Oikawa exclaimed and beamed at him.

“You sure did.” Iwaizumi sighed. “Well, if you want, we can either spent another half an hour here or can go outside already.”

Oikawa was inspecting the awfully small bookshelf and cocked his head to one side.

“Let’s go outside. You have nothing fun here anyway.” With a spring in his step, Oikawa darted away from Iwaizumi who was already on the verge to throw a punch outside the door.

Oikawa stifled a laugh and walked slowly towards the stairs, slow enough for Iwaizumi to catch up. Iwaizumi was dressed similarly to Oikawa with a scarf and a hat but instead of a coat an oversized hoody which looked as comfy as it was warm. Oikawa tried not to stare too obviously at how cute Iwaizumi looked in it.

They stayed quiet in the staircase since it was already late and despite Oikawa gladly stir up some trouble, he wouldn’t want Iwaizumi to get noise complaints.

Outside, Iwaizumi tucked on Oikawa’s sleeve and nudged him around the apartment complex which was right in front of a sinister looking forest. Oikawa swallowed hard.

Iwaizumi huffed what could only be interpreted as a laugh and Oikawa shot him a glare. Ostentatiously Oikawa walked in front of Iwaizumi through the trees and adjusted his course when Iwaizumi tucked again at his sleeve.

“Wanna hold hands?” Iwaizumi teased behind him and Oikawa pushed his hands into his pockets.

“Well, if you’re afraid because it’s dark or something, I could consider it.”

“I’m not the one who’s afraid.” Iwaizumi mumbled under his breath which Oikawa pretended not to hear.

When an owl, however, flew up the trees, flapping its wings rapidly and “Uh-hu” ’d, Oikawa jumped a little only to get Iwaizumi bumped into him.

“Oi…” Iwaizumi started but was interrupted by a flustered Oikawa, babbling out: “I’m not afraid! You are!”

For a second, Iwaizumi reconsidered but shook his head to himself. Without looking at Oikawa, he grabbed his hand and now led the way. Oikawa was too startled by this action that for a moment he didn’t remember to move or to breath, for what matters.

He stumbled behind Iwaizumi, eyes fixed on their hands which gradually got warmer and with a defeated huff, Oikawa squeezed their hands together. Iwaizumi didn’t look back, but he didn’t let go, too.

 They probably walked for only about 10 minutes which felt like hours to Oikawa. For one, because he was so fixed on their hands, which felt oddly good. Then again, it was cold and it slowly crept through their clothes and Oikawa just wanted to wrap his blanket around him.

As if his prayer was granted, the trees opened up wide and a small clearing appeared. Oikawa’s eyes went as wide as the moon that illuminated their way and gaped at the sky, which was clear and presented its stars like there was nothing else in the world.

“Wow.” Oikawa whispered. It felt wrong to speak too loudly in this setting, well, at least for him.

“Oi, blankets?” Iwaizumi shuffled his feet to warm them up and his face was already red from the cold.

“Ah, yes. Wait just a second.” Oikawa had to tear of his gaze from Iwaizumi’s red cheeks and fumbled with his bag. He pulled out one thin blanket to sit on and two thicker ones, which he handed to Iwaizumi. It took them less than a minute to spread the blanket and bundle up in their blankets beside each other.  

For a while, they sat in silence, neither uncomfortable nor forced. The sky was clear and their little space between the trees felt kind of sacred, so they didn’t want to disturb the silence.

At least, until the cold crept into their bones and Iwaizumi pulled two flasks out of his bag and without looking at Oikawa mumbled: “Didn’t know if you liked tea, too. You’re always drinking coffee but I thought … y‘know, tea fits this a bit more.” The last bit was one word muttered together and Oikawa felt already warm inside without anything to drink.

“You’re so thoughtful!“ he grinned. “Then we start with tea and when we’re getting tired, not me just for your information, we can switch to coffee. Sounds good?“

Iwaizumi nodded and pulled out two mugs as well, in which he poured in the hot liquid.

“I only had green tea, deal with it.”

“As long as you didn’t put in any sugar.” Oikawa took the offered mug and blew at the steam. His fingers finally felt alive again.

“Why would somebody do that?” Iwaizumi cocked his eyebrow as he poured himself a cup of tea as well.

“Good answer.”

They both blew on their tea and sipped it occasionally, burning their lips but neither complained. A few minutes later, Oikawa put down his mug and pulled out of his own bag two bento boxes and with a slight blush on his cheeks gave one to Iwaizumi.

“Just some snacks … I didn’t know what you liked. And my first try to make some onigiris, feel honored!” he exclaimed. Without looking at Iwaizumi, he opened his own bento box and his face fell a little.

The onigiris weren’t formed properly, so after being pushed from side to side with the other food, they fell apart.

“Well, that calls for some more practice.” Oikawa looked over to Iwaizumi and started to say: “You don’t have to--”

But Iwaizumi was already in the process of pressing the onigiris together some more and ate them. When he felt Oikawa looking at him he turned to him, his cheeks stuffed.

“Whaff?“

Without warning, Oikawa burst into a fit of laughter. Relief and the view combined made his eyes tear up. Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes and had to hold both their mugs out of danger of Oikawa’s trembling body.

„You’re so dumb.“ Iwaizumi shook his head and gave Oikawa his mug back when he whimpered his last bubble of laughter and swept away some tears.

“Says the right one.” Oikawa giggled and earned a slap on the back of his head but it lacked power, so he just yelped a reflexive “Ouch!” but it didn’t hurt at all.

Just when Iwaizumi was about to say something, the first yellow stripe flew above them. They both jerked their heads up and within seconds, a next meteorite flew through the sky. And the next one. And the next one. And then there were a few next to each other and they illuminated the sky like flashlights.

In awe, Iwaizumi and Oikawa forgot to eat and drink for a few minutes and just stared until their necks were stiff.  They started slurping at their tea and snacked on their food and every so often when an especially long tail on a meteorite flew above them, Oikawa breathed out an excited “Oh!” or “Ah!” He didn’t notice that when that happened, Iwaizumi’s eyes rather looked at his face than at the meteorites.

For about half an hour the meteorites showered above them and it grew colder by the minute despite their hot drinks and without really noticing, they scooted over to sit nearer together. So, when the meteorites finally faded back into the night sky and they grinned at each other, their faces were so close they almost touched each other.

“Uhm…” Oikawa’s heart stuttered for a second and his usual eloquent self showed its worst side.

Iwaizumi’s eyes glanced down for a split second, but of course, Oikawa noticed and finally broke his stare and skidded back a few centimeters. Iwaizumi cleared his throat and took another sip from his now empty cup.

“Well … that was amazing!” Oikawa ignored what just happened and stared at the sky. “Just amazing!”

Iwaizumi nodded in agreement. He wasn’t one who cared about such things, but he had to admit it was nice to see something like this in person once in a while.

“Yeah, it shuts you up pretty good.” Iwaizumi shrugged.

“Iwa-chan! Rude!” Oikawa gasped in surprise. “Can’t you just say something nice for once?” he pouted.

Iwaizumi continued plucking on his sandwiches and stayed silent. Oikawa sighed and finished his drink. There were just two sandwiches left so he grabbed one and took a huge bite from it.

“I like spending time with you.”

Oikawa almost choked on his food and his head spun around, he almost got whiplashed. Iwaizumi kept his eyes on his hands which were just pulling bread and letting it fall to the ground.

“Iwa-chan …” Oikawa swallowed. “That’s wasting food! If you’re not going to eat it don’t just throw it away!” Oikawa tried to grab Iwaizumi’s sandwich.

“What?!” Iwaizumi, on the other hand, just hold his arm upwards so that Oikawa didn’t reach it. They both had slightly red cheeks but ignored it. “I’m not … what? No, I’m not wasting anything?”

“You just threw bread away!” Oikawa pointed at the crumbs on the blanket which were now scattered all over it.

“I’m … oh. Sorry.” Iwaizumi scratched the back of his head. “Didn’t realize I was doing that.”

“Hmpf.” Oikawa pouted and continued eating his sandwich but this time with a smile on his lips.

They stayed there for about 20 more minutes, finishing their sandwiches and then staring at the sky for a little bit longer until the cold finally won and they packed their stuff. Again, Iwaizumi lead the way with his flashlight followed by Oikawa. He noticed after some time, that Iwaizumi’s free hand was always pointed towards Oikawa. Another smile found its way on Oikawa’s and stayed there for the rest of the way.

When they arrived at Iwaizumi’s apartment complex, Iwaizumi shouldered his bag to the other side and fumbled at its straps.

“So, uhm, are you getting home alright? It’s pretty late already.”

Oikawa blinked and finally pulled out his phone to look at the time. “2 am?!” he almost yelled. Time flew by like nothing. Oikawa smacked his own forehead.

“Well, yeah, no. The last bus was at 1:45.”

Iwaizumi nodded slowly and nodded at the building. “Wanna stay over then? I mean, you’re welcome to walk home or to take a taxi.”

Oikawa arched an eyebrow. “If you’re already that courteous, don’t end it with being a dick!” But despite his words, Oikawa couldn’t help but grin and walked towards the building. “But yes, I’m gonna take that offer.”

They walked upstairs to Iwaizumi’s apartment, which Oikawa once again, eyed dismissively and earned another hit against his arm.

“Are you gonna be picky, now?”

“No, no!” Oikawa held up his hands, laughing nervously.

“Hm.” Iwaizumi disappeared in his own room shortly and came back with a pillow and a blanket which he unloaded on the couch.

“Don’t even think about asking for the bed. Do you want a shirt to sleep in?” Iwaizumi shot Oikawa down who was already opening his mouth in protest.

“Uh, yeah, a shirt would be nice.” Oikawa placed his own bag against the couch and hung his jacket up on the wardrobe. Iwaizumi came back with one of his shirts and threw it in Oikawa’s face.

“There you go. Bathroom is there”, he pointed at the door opposite to his room, “if something’s wrong try to solve it yourself first and then wake me up.”

“Iwa-chan, charming as ever.” Oikawa giggled. “Don’t worry, I won’t disturb your beauty sleep.” Oikawa earned another scowl from Iwaizumi.

“Good night, Shittykawa.”

“Good night, Iwa-chan.”

Oikawa waited for a few more seconds after Iwaizumi went into his room before he exhaled. Why was he so tensed up? He shook his head and changed into the other shirt and threw his clothes over one of the chairs.

The couch was comfortable to some degree and he was thankful, that it was rather warm in the apartment and the blanket and pillow were almost as fluffy as his own. Another warmth spread out within him and Oikawa stared at the small coffee table in front of him.

His eyelids were heavy, and he felt sleep coming, but this strange warmth kept him awake for some time. This will be a problem for his future self.

The next morning came way too fast and the sun shined through the thin curtains, waking Oikawa up. It was still early, so Oikawa, a rational human being, bombarded Iwaizumi with text messages, that he is, in fact, awake and bored.

It took about 5 minutes until Oikawa heard some dull steps and then Iwaizumi’s door was pulled wide open.

“Assykawa.” Iwaizumi growled.

“Oh, you’re awake, too? What a coincidence!” Oikawa grinned his dazzling smile but then had to run away from Iwaizumi who chased him through the whole apartment.

The rest of the morning was rather calm. After they finally settled, mostly Oikawa admitting defeat after Iwaizumi pushed him outside the balcony and closed the window, they had a hearty breakfast with coffee, rice, eggs, vegetables and a little bit of meat.

They ate in silence, took turns with the bathroom, changed and then Oikawa headed home. It was almost domestic.

On his way home, Oikawa felt the same warmth in his chest again but he couldn’t place this feeling anywhere. So, instead of really thinking about it, he put it into a box and pushed it deep inside his head where he never had to think about it again.

------

After this day, his heart ached in shorter intervals than ever. Oikawa hooked up with girl after girl, made them fall for him as fast as he could and after about a week the pain already came back. It made Oikawa panic a little bit.

Normally, he could live with it for a few months without problems and now he burnt through all his contacts in two months. Between his hook-ups, he met up with Iwaizumi on a regular basis. They spent more time together, eating lunch at the cafeteria, studying at their apartments, went to the cinema or shopping. And every second, Oikawa felt this warmth and the pain was gone for a little while.

Of course, Iwaizumi, as well as Hanamaki and Matsukawa, noticed Oikawa’s increase of dates and the shortness of these girls. But whenever they asked him about it, Oikawa just made excused and was pretty evasive about the topic. Since he didn’t know what was going on either.

Until.

Oikawa was sitting with Hanamaki and Matsukawa at one of the tables at the back of the cafeteria when Iwaizumi walked inside followed by some girl. She held his hand and smiled at something he said.

All three of them saw it this instantly and both Hanamaki and Matsukawa grinned while Oikawa froze up inside. Literally. His chest cooled off so much he almost choked.

Iwaizumi let go of the girl’s hand and pointed at their table and she nodded. She went to the front desk while Iwaizumi made his way to them. When he came up to them, his cheeks were burning red, no matter how hard he tried to calm his nerves.

“Aha?”

“Ahaaa?”

Iwaizumi both shot them a glare which they just ignored and kept staring at him.

“Th-that’s Harumi.” Iwaizumi ignored that he just stuttered but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Your—

--girlfriend?” Hanamaki finished Matsukawa's question, both with a disgusting smile on their lips.

Unconsciously, Iwaizumi’s eyes found Oikawa’s and he swallowed.

“Yeah.”

Oikawa didn’t know what to do. It didn’t happen often that he was totally at lost at what to do or what to say. So, he smiled. He just smiled the most bright, dazzling, fake smile he could muster.

“Congrats. Finally growing up, I see.” He slurped at his coffee and ignored his burnt tongue. It wasn’t what he wanted to say anyway. Better shut up.

“Uh, yeah.” He sat down next to Oikawa and a minute later, Harumi walked up to them a little shy.

“Hi, guys.” She waved at them and sat down on the other side next to Iwaizumi, handing him a coffee.

“Thanks.” Iwaizumi took the cup and his thump nervously played with the lid.

The rest of the conversation went by in a haze for Oikawa. He recognized Harumi from their group date a few months back and couldn’t hate himself more. He had introduced them basically.

He kept slurping his coffee and answered question mostly with a nod or at least as short as possible. He didn’t trust his brain at the moment.

20 Minutes went by as if they were days and Oikawa finally stood up. “Gotta go. It was nice meeting you, Harumi-chan!” he said brightly and nodded to the other guys, and without looking at Iwaizumi walked to his next class.

Or at least wanted, a few moments later, Iwaizumi caught up and kinda cut off his way.

“Hey.” His hands were pushed deep into his pockets.

Oikawa blinked and grabbed his cup a little more tightly. “Iwa-chan? What’s the matter? It isn’t nice to leave your girlfriend alone with your friends. You know, Makki and Mattsun are gonna ask her very personal question right now.” He talked without thinking. He didn’t want to hear what Iwaizumi was about to say.

“Yeah, sorry, I just”, his eyes roamed the room, “y’know, I’m sor—”

“Don’t.” Oikawa interrupted him. He knew it was too hasty, and his voice broke a little. “Don’t be, Iwa-chan. You can do whatever you want and, contrary to popular believe, don’t have to report back to me.”

Iwaizumi nodded and finally looked at Oikawa. They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds until Iwaizumi nodded again.

“Yeah, uhm, have fun at your lecture, I guess.”

“Thanks.” Oikawa walked outside, or rather, fled the scene. Outside, he had to take some deep breath to push back the stinging tears in his eyes. Why would he cry? Shouldn’t he be happy for his best friend?

-----

The next weeks were hell. Whenever they met up, Harumi was part of them. It was like Iwaizumi couldn’t do anything without her anymore. She practically lived with him already and it made Oikawa sick.

At first, he tried to be nice and just accept it. Tried to be nice to her, to make her laugh, to make Iwaizumi not feel sorry anymore for whatever he thinks he had to apologize for. But it was so, so exhausting.

Every time, Oikawa came home tired and burnt out. There was nothing left, that could help his aching heart. It hurt almost every day. Not the pain he felt when his heart craved love but some other pain. And nothing, just nothing, could sooth it anymore.

He grew distance. He couldn’t bare seeing Iwaizumi and Harumi together anymore. He made excuses when they agreed to meet up, buried himself in his books and his sport. Running away was something, he was pretty good at.

At one morning, it was pouring cats and dogs and Oikawa was already awake at 5 am, sitting in front of the window and watching the rain, when his phone lit up.

Iwa-chan (4:58 am): U awake?

Oikawa considered ignoring it for the moment but, like so often, he couldn’t just ignore Iwaizumi.

You (4:58 am): Good morning! Since when are you an early riser??

Iwa-chan (4:58 am): since u made it ur goal to always wake me up at this godforsaken hour

You (4:58 am): the early bird catches the worm!

Iwa-chan (4:59 am): the early bird can fuck itself

You (4:59 am): Iwa-chan! Language!

Iwa-chan (4:59 am): whatever

Iwa-chan (4:59 am): …

Oikawa looked at his phone, knowing that Iwaizumi didn’t just text him for fun. And he dreaded what was coming. He didn’t want to talk about anything.

Iwa-chan (5:01 am): can we meet up today?

Iwa-chan (5:01 am): just us 2

You (5:03 am): why? dunno if i have time

Iwa-chan (5:03 am): I know you have time

Iwa-chan (5:03 am): we need to talk

You (5:03 am): about what?

Iwa-chan (5:04 am): about you

Iwa-chan (5:04 am): and the way ur acting

You (5:04 am): ??

Iwa-chan (5:04 am): don’t give me that

Iwa-chan (5:04 am): u know exactly what i’m talking about

You (5:05 am): sorry iwa-chan

You (5:05 am): maybe some other time

You (5:05 am): gotta go

Iwa-chan (5:05 am): don’t you dare

Oikawa locked his phone and threw it on the couch. This was something he couldn’t deal with right now. He exhaled deeply a few times but his racing heart wouldn’t calm down. He grabbed a thin jacket and put it on as he walked outside. He needed to get whatever this was out of his system and nothing worked better than a run. Even though it was pouring.

As soon as he stepped outside the front door, his hair and shoulders were soaked. He made a grimace and grumbled under his breath.

The first steps were just light walking to warm up but he soon was running at a fast pace. He sure wasn’t running away, not him. No.

He made a turn to the right on the next crossroad and about 10 meters in front of him, Iwaizumi was on his bike.

Iwaizumi hit his breaks and Oikawa sprung to the side and both stopped next to each other.

“What the-? Are you crazy?!” Iwaizumi almost shouted at Oikawa. “Get inside, you’re gonna catch something in this rain.”

Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi’s wet hair and soaked clothes. He must have texted him on his way here. His lips almost curled up to a smile. But he didn’t.

“Same to you.” Oikawa shrugged and was about to continue his run when Iwaizumi grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me.”

“Iwa-chan, I can do what I want, you’re not my mom.” The fake carefree tone of his almost made him vomit. Iwaizumi probably thought the same, judging by his face.

He got off his bike and leaned it against the brick wall, still holding onto Oikawa as if he could run away as soon as he would let go.

“Tell me what’s going on. You know, I can’t read people, let alone minds. Especially not yours.” The last part was more silent and coated with something akin to hurt and it clenched at Oikawa’s heart.

“Nothing’s going on. You must imagine things.”

Iwaizumi shot him a glare. “Don’t fuck around, Oikawa.”

“I’m not.” Another shrug. “I have a lot on my plate right now, so, I’m sorry if I rubbed you the wrong way.”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “No. You’re not the same. Since I”, Iwaizumi swallowed, “since I started dating Harumi, you’re distant.”

When her name fell, Oikawa clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to hear Iwaizumi say her name with affection and what not.

Oikawa snapped his arm back. “I’m not.” There was nothing but defense in his voice and Oikawa knew, there was nothing he could say to convince Iwaizumi otherwise. He turned around and walked back to his apartment. His skin was finally feeling the coldness of the rain.

Iwaizumi was not having any of his shit. He took his bike and shoved it into Oikawa’ back.

The rain poured down on them and Oikawa could laugh at the utter ridiculousness at the situation. He turned around and stemmed his hands into his hip and glared at Iwaizumi.

“Now what? Are you happy?!”

“Why would I?! You are making a big deal out of it!”

Oikawa gritted his teeth and looked up at the sky. Frustration, anger, jealousy … Oikawa couldn’t place his feelings that were all over the place and it made his eyes sting. He wasn’t sure what was rain and what were tears that were streaming down his face and he didn’t care.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to! But you-“

“I what?! Huh?” Iwaizumi raised his arms, tossing his bike to the side. “Yes, I went out with this girl. You do it all the time!”

He was right. Oikawa was painfully aware that Iwaizumi was right, but he just didn’t know what to do. He just wanted to get this out of his chest whatever it was. He looked back at Iwaizumi and he couldn’t tell if Iwaizumi cried as well. Did he ever see him cry? All he could tell was the poufy eyes and the red nose.

Oikawa was about to say something when time seemed to slow down for him.

Ba-dumm.

It was then that he realized. He looked at the deep brown eyes, that were looking at him so furiously but hurt at him. The usually spiked up hair that was drenched with rain and hung down sloppily. The hands that were clenched to fists. Every little detail, Oikawa absorbed at that moment.

And the little box he stored away in the back of his head, snapped open. He couldn’t deny it anymore and he finally, finally, realized all his feelings. The warmth, the pain, everything.

“I’m in love with you.”

It was only a whisper, but he knew Iwaizumi heard it.

Ba-dumm.

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened. Oikawa looked at them growing bigger than ever and almost saw that inside of Iwaizumi the same box sprung open and his eyes filled with tears and warmth and everything good. Oikawa almost felt it oozing out and unconsciously his hand reached out, he just wanted to hold Iwaizumi right now. Nothing more.

The next moment, Oikawa’s chest was filled with so much joy, warmth, and utter happiness, he never felt in his life before. He felt whole.

Iwaizumi’s hand loosened. The brown eyes, that were just looking at him with a glimmer in them, went dull. And Oikawa knew. He stole Iwaizumi’s heart.

but the world didn’t love them.

[brien-odylan]

Oops, baby, I miss you - Dylan O’Brien

Author: @brien-odylan

Pairing: Dylan O’Brien x OC

Word count: 14.5k

Warnings: a little bit of angst, mentions of sex, cursing, World Cup, Brazil losing, some fluff.

A/N: I can’t believe it’s finally done! *inserts hallelujah chorus here*. This story has been on the made ever since the enf of June, over the course where I had to go through a dryspell, where I couldn’t write anything for days. But it’s finally here now and man... Just knowing that it took me a little less than a month makes me want to kill myself.

Anyways, this was made as part of @disbestiles writing challenge in celebration of her 600 followers, using the songs Oops, by Little Mix and Miss You, by Louis Tomlinson. Let’s a great deal of it, having my back when all I wanted was to give up writing this story and everytime I changed what it was going to be about. See, miga, I finally finished it! Shoutout to the amazing @mischiefandi for proofing some of it and to @malia--stilinski @mf-despair-queen for yelling at me. And also to my best friend that doesn’t have a tumblr but was totally my inspiration for the very last scene. Enjoy it!! xxx

A shrill sound was what woke Ananda up that Sunday morning, her eyes trying to adjust to the clarity of the room. She tried to close her eyes and muffle the sound, but for as hard as she tried, the noise wouldn’t go away and seemed to be coming from inside her head, going off for countless minutes until it stopped.

Slowly, the girl opened one eye and looked around. She was back in her room, the sunlight entering through a crack on her blinds on the window on the opposite side of her bed and she just wished she was dead. Her head was pounding strongly against her skull, as if someone had dropped an anvil on her head or hit her until she went unconscious.

Once again, the annoying noise came back and she felt something vibrating against her skull. Trying to understand what was going on, she reached beneath her pillow only to find her phone ringing insistently on her palms. She had the vague idea of throwing it on the other side of the room, her trembling arm already shaking in anticipation. She was in no condition of talking to anyone at that time of the day after the night she had had.

It has to be the worst hangover ever, she thought to herself as she tried to make out the letters on her caller ID to no avail. It was going to be impractical to try to figure out who was disturbing her at that time, so she just rejected the call and turned the phone off. I’m never drinking again, she added.

It was an empty promise and Ananda was well aware of it. She had lost count of how many times she had said that only to get hammered the following weekend.

There was a movement behind her, the sound of her sheets being ruffled by someone getting her attention. It was probably just her best friend trying to get more comfortable during her sleep, her lazy self trying to find some more hours of sleep. Ananda half expected to hear her groaning at the sound of the ringing phone, but she must’ve been dead to this world.

With a sigh, Ananda closed her eyes once again and pushed the covers over her head in order to block the light in the room. She was going to spend the rest of the day in bed while begging Let to ask for takeout. It was a day to be lazy and get cured, she would understand.

However, things went slightly different, because soon enough Ananda felt something slightly different in the sleeping arrangement. First of all, Let seemed to be taking way more space than she usually did. They were about the same size and there was always a gap between the two girls, something that seemed nonexistent that morning. The second thing was a muscular arm draped over her body, pulling her closer to its owner and it made Ananda freeze in her place, dread icing her veins as she tried to understand what had happened the night before.

Because, obviously, she had ended up sleeping with someone and that was not Let, her best friend.

Sweaty bodies danced scattered around the dancefloor, the beat reverberating through the walls, hips swaying from one side to the other, people getting drunk all around the deck, the lights blinking as the DJ started another song, this time with a more powerful bass echoing around the surroundings, an obvious change in the atmosphere, causing everyone to shout in excitement as the music started.

From where she was standing, her bare feet in contact with the soft fabric of the booth she was designated to, Ananda threw her head back, her hips already dancing on their own accord, following the new rhythm, the words to the song coming out of her mouth as if it was her own creation. In her intoxicated state, she could feel the sound booming through her veins, her closed eyes intensifying the feeling and before she knew it, she was screaming at the top of her lungs the words to the song, her hips swaying, shyly at first.

That’s how things always started for her. She would claim she couldn’t dance, that she was way too shy to do it in front of anyone, but everytime she went out with her friends, she would end up giving all she got on the dancefloor, not caring if anyone was seeing it or not. Of course there was always a great amount of alcohol involved, but she wasn’t the type of person  to drink and forget everything; she would just let go of her inhibitions, secretly saying a ‘fuck you’ to herself. It was fun to watch. You could see she was having a good time coming out of her shell and attracting looks from a few guys around.

And of course it couldn’t be any different that day. It was her birthday, all her friends were present and she even got a VIP section of her favorite night club, not to mention a free champagne bottle to celebrate it. She was having the time of her life, dancing on top of the seat, not a care in the world with her hands on her knees, her ass stuck up in the air, moving from one side to the other almost in a broken way to whoever saw it, but she was in complete control of what she was doing, the sharp motions of her hips forming, slightly, what could be remarked as a geometric shape as she kept singing loudly to the song.

Ananda could see, by the look on her friends’ eyes, that most of them had no idea what the music was saying or what kind of moves they should do and she just shrugged it off, telling them to do what felt natural. There was no correct way of dancing funk. You just had to feel the beat and do the most provocative moves you could muster, that’s how she went.

She felt a sharp tug on her arms, her movements halting immediately as she looked at whoever had stopped her, the bewilderment expression she had softening as soon as she saw her best friend looking at her with the biggest smile on her face.

“He’s here!” she heard through the song. Two little words that sent her heart in a frenzy, completely forgetting to follow the music’s beat to a rhythm of its own, almost as if it was racing against her eyes, which had already darted to the entrance searching for someone.

Ananda was sure he wouldn’t make it, she was sure she was going to spend another birthday without him, without the guy she considered her best friend. It was weird, to be honest, that he had become someone so close to her. They had shared one meaningless class back in freshman year, done one unimportant seminar together and yet he kept on being by her side, talking to her throughout the rest of the college years. Not to mention when he moved to the same building as hers.

In the end, they had accepted that they were destined to be in each other’s lives; they had far too many things in common, not to mention how they worked perfectly together. And now, five years after they had met, she was glad they had decided it.

As soon as her eyes fell on his frame, his spiked hair, the infamous blue shirt and khaki pants he wore everywhere - she really thought those were the only clothes he owned and once offered to go shopping with him. What was his problem? - and those warm honey colored eyes, she felt a squeal erupt from her mouth, her legs pushing her through the mass of sweaty bodies, making her way to the man she was expecting.

“Dylan!” she screamed over the noise, her much smaller frame colliding against him, her arms circling around his neck as she stood on the tip of her toes. “You made it!” she beamed, her eyes staring at him intently as he shook back the confusion he was in once he felt someone run into him.

He let out a loud laugh, a smile on his lips as he hugged her back, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist and picking her up a little bit, her feet dangling a little bit. “I wouldn’t miss my best friend’s birthday, come on!”

“You  missed the last one,” she looked at him sternly. He was not going to pull that kind of crap on her. Not on her birthday.

“It’s not my fault you decided to have your birthday when the semester is almost over,” he defended himself.

“It’s not my fault you struggled with your grades. You should study harder, Dylan.”

Whoever watched their interaction from the distance, wouldn’t actually see how their dynamic worked. Dylan was the laid back one, doing everything he deemed possible to achieve what he wanted, but never stressing himself over it, hence the moments he needed to ditch his best friend to stay in and study for his finals. It was just how he worked, pushing things back until he couldn’t get away from it anymore and it was amazing how he always ended up being at the top of his class or having the best job offer ever. On the other side, there was Ananda: a hard-worked, over-achiever, stressed student who was always trying to make the best of her time and classes. Maybe it was the fact that she was living through what felt like her only shot of winning in life, like if she ever stood a toe out of line, she was going to be sent back home and say goodbye to her much dreamed graduation. Maybe she felt like she had to prove herself all the time because she was from another country; maybe she felt like everyone was judging her, as if it wasn’t her place and she needed to prove them wrong.

How those two ever ended up close to each other was a mystery, but it worked perfectly well. They balanced each other’s lives.

“Well, I’m here now,” he said with a smirk. “Just in time to see you twerking, something I never thought you would do.”

Ananda scoffed. She couldn’t believe he would compare her sharp hip movements to something so simple and silly as… twerking. She had spent hours and more hours practicing her movements, the positions of her legs, how her hips had to swerve from one side to the other in a fluid movement with her ass stuck up in the air.

“Don’t ever compare my quadradinho to twerk,” she shouted over the song, her eyes rolling. She wasn’t going to stand there and be offended like that. Ok, it wasn’t like that and she was being a little bit over dramatic, but the amount of alcohol in her system wasn’t helping much.

Dylan laughed at her and put his hands up in a surrender motion, accepting what she had said. He had no idea what she was talking about or what the hell a quadradinho was, but he would accept it. She seemed like she was having fun and that was enough for him.

After that, everything seemed to go in a blur. A shot of tequila turned into four and he had ingested more caipirinhas than he would have thought healthy. Damn those Brazilians and their need to make something so sweet and tasteful, making you drink more than one in a hurry thinking it wasn’t too strong. When it hits, it hits you hard, he thought. But it was already too late. He was already in the middle of the sweaty bodies taking the space of the VIP section designated to Ananda, his mind all fuzzy, his steps a bit faltering, but never stopping moving to the rhythm of the music.

And that was pretty much how things went all night long. At some point, Ananda turned around, her glazed eyes trying to focus on a black figure sat right in front of her. Of course it was Dylan, she though with an internal roll of eyes. She knew he had already drank more than he should, but she couldn’t stop smiling at the way his head rolled around, trying to keep an eye on everything that was going on around him. They had always joked about visiting Brazil together. She said she would show him everything worth seeing and not just Rio and what people thought that was Brazil.

Well, that night club was something he would see in a night club in the latin country: people dancing around, having the time of their lives, shouting the words to every funk song while dancing to it.

She didn’t know who had started it, but when she realized it, both of them were extremely close to each other, Dylan out of his seat, his frame towering over hers slightly as he tried to keep his face in a serious expression while watching her dance, her back turned to him as she bounced her hips, slowly going up and down, her movements never faltering.

He was hypnotized. His eyes couldn’t avert from her as she laughed, her hands lacing around his neck. That was it. That was what made him lose all his sober thoughts as she turned around, her face inching closer to his as she grinded against him, her chest pressing entirely to his, her breath fanning against his neck.

It was hard to see where Dylan stopped and Ananda started. Somewhere along the song, they had become one.

No. No no. No no no no no. It couldn’t be, right? That was just a drunk mistake, she had only kissed Dylan and then walked away from him to find someone else. Some tall, blonde stranger, something completely different from the brunette she called her best friend. Because that was the right thing. She couldn’t have walked home with him and slept with him.

She took a deep breath and poked her head through the covers, almost too afraid to turn around and see who was behind her, snoring softly and completely lost to this world. She had to do it. She had to make sure that she hadn’t jeopardized years of friendship because of a wild night out. And then, with a hammering heart and completely neglecting the pounding in her head, Ananda slowly turned around, her body shifting swiftly against the sheets as she tried to see who was in bed with her and the first thing she noticed was a mop of brown hair contrasting with a pale skin.

And if it weren’t enough to send her heart in a frantic rhythm, the face her eyes came into contact did. Because there was no way she could mistake those long eyelashes against that cheek or the constellation of moles that dotted that beautiful face. She had watched them closely a thousand of times, trying to memorize every little speck of color, how they looked under the natural light, how they contrasted against his skin and how she loved when he was wearing a beard, but hated the fact that it hid the dots she had grown to love. Purely platonic, that is.

And it was amidst the realization that she had slept with her best friend that she couldn’t ignore the fact that she liked seeing Dylan like that, his face free of any worries, his eyes rolling from one side to the other behind his closed eyelids, the soft snores coming from him, almost melodic and sending her back into a slumber, the way his chest was raising and falling, the way that the morning light hit his warm skin, giving it a new shade. He seemed so peaceful, so innocent and pure that Ananda found herself gazing at him, her finger itching as she tried to not outline the contour of his jawline.

She was incredibly scared of what would happen when he woke up, but she couldn’t stop looking at him and admiring the man beside her. He was gorgeous; his pale skin looked amazing against hers - a little bit more tanned -, his strong arms, something that she had watched grow over the years, felt so secure and soft that she couldn’t help but wonder what it was like to be held by them. And it hit her that she probably had been trapped between those same arms the previous night and what startled her the most was the fact that she couldn’t remember much of it.

There was a lingering thought on her mind, something telling her that she had been in there. It was almost a memory, completely blurred and confusing, but she had a feeling that it had been amazing. For as long as she knew Dylan, she had failed to know something he wasn’t good at. She had heard things about him in bed, of course, having talked to a few girls that had been in his life and some rumours that went around the campus. If any of them were true, she must have felt in heaven.

In the complete stillness of the morning, where no sound could be heard coming from the closed window she had on her bedroom, the annoying sound her vibrating phone caused startled her one more time, her eyes tearing apart from the sleeping figure besides her, her body almost jumping out of the bed and away from his as she tried to reach for the buzzing device to quiet it hurriedly before it disturbed Dylan from his sleep, but it was already too late.

Dylan stirred on his side of the bed, his eyes opening and closing rapidly due to the clarity of the room he was in, his head screaming at him while he tried to make sense of what was happening. He could feel a commotion going on beside him, someone talking hurriedly into a phone words he couldn’t make out and the ruffling of sheets. Where the hell did he spend the night?

Slowly and carefully, he opened one eye flinching slightly at the bright light, his hands reaching down to pull the duvet closer to his chin, suddenly too self-conscious for his liking.

The voice - it was a girl, that he was sure of - cut the call short and turned around, her eyes finally meeting his.

Saying that life is full of surprises is an understatement; you can prepare yourself to a lot of things, but waking up, naked, in a bed with your best friend when you can’t recall what happened the previous night, is something that you can never be prepared for and something that can never cross your mind. And that was exactly what was happening to Dylan that Sunday morning.

His eyes stared wide open back at the Brazilian girl by his side, her smaller frame enveloped in the duvet they were sharing, her small hands tugging at the ends of the fabric trying to get more of it around her body while he could just sit there, too stunned to say or do anything. How could they ever walk away from this situation?

“Do you…” he started, his voice caught in the back of his throat. Fuck, how do you even start a conversation? “Do you remember anything from last night?”

Ananda stared at him blankly, her head shaking, her eyes focused on the wall behind his head. That was it. The perfect friendship had been reduced to a big pile of nothing because of a drunk mistake. What were they thinking of? Well, they weren’t.

“Do you have any idea how wrong this is?” she asked, her voice barely over a whisper. She was mortified.

Maybe, to anyone else, it might have seemed like they were just being over dramatic, that it wasn’t that big of a deal and that it was bound to happen at some time, but when it came to friendships, Ananda didn’t like to see hers being ruined, much less with the only guy she had in her life, the one person she could count on at any given time. Of course she had other friends, Let for instance, but it was different. Dylan knew her the longest, he was aware of her deepest secrets, he could read her like the back of his hand and to have him there, in the same bed as her after a night of sex, it seemed like she couldn’t look at him without wanting to die.

“Ok, don’t freak out,” he started, one of his hands slowly reaching to grabs hers in a soothing way. If he was thinking straight, he would’ve realized it wasn’t a good idea, but he was set on trying to comfort his best friend. “I know this is weird, but come on, Nanda. It’s just us.”

“Of course I’m freaking out, Dylan!” her hand slipped out of his, holding the duvet closer to her. “You’re my best friend! I have the right to freak out! Oh my God, what have we done?” she rambled, her eyes falling to her lap as she tried to think of a way to walk out of the awkward situation. “I need an aspirin,” she mumbled, her legs finding the side of the bed, steading her descending self as she clutched the sheets around her. “Don’t look!”

It was then that Dylan realized he had not only been looking at her, but gawking. He was transfixed on a point over her shoulder, how the skin there seemed so tender and soft, something he would like to feel again, to refresh his memory, to run his fingers through it until he reached the pulsing point on her neck. She was extremely beautiful, something he hadn’t failed to realize in all those years, but it had a different meaning now. Because he was actually seeing her, all her walls down.

Some people would wake up and grumble, roll out of the bed and start their day with a roll of eyes, but not Ananda. Despite having a real shocker that morning, Dylan could see that she was doing her best to let it slip from her mind and not ruin her day. He saw her walking up to the window, the light hitting her skin and adding a golden tone to it. Her hair waved down to the middle of her back, the sunlight making it look lighter than it actually was. And he kept watching, almost too scared to say anything, almost too scared of moving and making her scurry away from him. He watched it like it was forbidden, like he was stealing glimpses of her and storing it in his memory before it was too late.

She was beautiful and it hit him like a brick. He had fucked it up.

A week had passed. An entire week in which Ananda had done her best to avoid any kind of interaction with Dylan or any conversation about what had happened. She knew it was ridiculous because they had to talk it out at some point, but she just couldn't bring herself to look at him without feeling utterly mortified.

It was a crazy feeling, something she never thought she would feel towards him, but she couldn't help herself. She had been out of herself enough to sleep with him and that was not something she did. She was the calm one, the one who always thought things through and avoided all kinds of crazy thoughts. Why had this happened and with him?

No, she wasn't repulsed by the idea of sex with Dylan, because he was amazing. He was gorgeous and had a body that she could stare at for hours - something she actually did when he was running around the room and putting his clothes on - but it was also her best friend. She was repulsed by the idea of throwing herself at him, completely out of her normal state, her drunk haze making her act like someone she was not. That was her problem with the whole situation.

And, if things weren’t already hard enough, she had to deal with her Let being all over her, asking things she wanted to forget, trying to make her remember things that were forever lost on her sucky memory, something she was glad for for the first time in her life.

“You know you’re acting really childish, right?” Let asked as she moved around the kitchen, her hands gripping tightly the dishes as she put them back in the cabinet. The two girls had just walked home from a long and exhausting day at work, ready to call it a night and order takeout. “You two slept together, so what? Everyone does that.”

Ananda rolled her eyes. She was tired of having that same conversation, tired of saying everything she had already said, but her best friend wouldn’t give up. She wanted to talk about it all the time, almost like she was rooting for it to happen again and soon. The truth was… She knew Let had always wanted them to be together, had always hinted at that fact and had always secretly rooted for that to happen. Ananda was really surprised Let hadn’t shouted it to the whole world yet.

“But it’s not something I do,” she sighed. “I don’t want to jeopardize everything I have with him because of a mistake, ok? I like him, he’s my best friend and I don’t want to give it away because we were too drunk to do the right thing.”

There was a lingering silence in the kitchen, the only sound coming from the dishwasher working in the background and the occasional sound of the chair scraping against the floor as Ananda rocked herself back and forth, trying to think of a way to walk out of that conversation.

“Well, you two have to talk,” Let said with a final tone, her eyes rolling at how things were being treated by two grown ups. She expected them to be more mature about it all, she thought they would look at each other, have a laugh and move on with their lives. Deep down, she thought it could mean something, that they would finally be together. It was just a matter of time. “Meanwhile, you could do the laundry,” she added, a smile playing on her lips as she hinted to the big pile of dirty clothes they had put aside.

“Yeah, I’ll do it tomorrow,” Ananda rolled her eyes. Yes, it was her turn. No, she wouldn’t waste her night doing something she hated.

“But you gotta do it today,” Let pressed, her hands firmly gripping the girl’s hands and pushing her up. “I’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning and I want to wear the black pants I lent you Monday. So you gotta do it now.”

There was something to it, Ananda thought as she went through the laundry, separating the clothes she was going to wash first. First because Let wouldn’t be so adamant on making her wash the clothes, second because the following day was a Saturday and Let didn’t work on Saturdays and third because she knew Ananda didn’t like being on her own on that room. It was all gloomy and eery. The sound of the plumbing always managed to scare her, it didn’t matter how many times she had been in that basement.

Either way, the Brazilian girl found herself all alone in the room, praying for nothing to happen as she put all her color clothes into the machine, internally rolling her eyes at how silly she was being. She was a grown up and didn’t have time for irrational fears. Resigned, she shook her head, set and started the machine, adjusting the earphones in her ears hitting play on her playlist as she waited for the cycle to be done sitting on a chair with her legs up, her back to the door.

Of course, had she been sitting differently or not using the earphones to block the sound coming from the plumbing, she would have noticed the door had opened and someone had walked into the room with her, their steps not so light as they stumbled on their own feet due to the amount of things they were carrying, blocking their vision. Had Ananda been paying attention, she would have noticed when the figure walked up to her, let go of the basket with clothes and detergent and looked at her, a smirk on their lips as they watched the girl singing happily to whatever she was listening to, her eyes closed and her head thrown back, completely lost to the world around them.

Dylan chuckled to himself. It was such a normal thing for her, to sit back and relax, listen to her random playlist and forget about everything else. She looked so relaxed and carefree, a smile playing on her moving lips, the words escaping from her mouth echoing around the almost empty room, reaching his ears and making him smile. He loved when she sang; her voice was melodic enough to carry a song on her own, her tone causing some kind of effect within him. His heart, somehow, felt lighter at the sight of the girl in front of him combined with her sweet voice.

He knew she was trying to avoid him ever since the weekend and he couldn’t understand why. Well, he could, but he thought it was just a little too much of her to do something like that. It wasn’t that big of a deal and despite the fact that she thought it could be something to ruin their friendship, neither of them remembered what actually happened. They could pretend it never did and move on with their lives, be the best of friends as they had always been, but she had chose to ignore him and he had let her. He gave her the space she thought she needed, he respected that and at that moment, as his brain screamed at him to walk away from the room and leave her alone, another part of him - he wasn’t sure which one - was telling him to just walk up to her and question the girl on her actions.

It could be a little selfish, he thought, but he didn’t want to be apart from her anymore. He missed her, the way her accent rang on his ears when she said his name or tried to say some word she thought that was difficult to say. He missed her rambling on and on about the upcoming World Cup, he missed her trying to teach him things from her country. He missed his best friend. So, shutting up his brain and acting on the behalf of his heart, Dylan slowly turned to her, his hands reaching out to gently grab her shoulders and snap her out of her daze.

What followed after was a cacophony of sounds, the metal chair scraping against the floor, Ananda’s legs hitting the side of the washing machine as a piercing scream left her mouth, echoing around the nearly empty room and probably reaching the first level of the building. Her heart was hammering wildly against her ribcage, her head pounding and her veins turned to ice. That was how she was going to die. All alone, doing laundry while listening to some poorly chosen songs. Fantastic.

With her body shaking from head to toe, she opened her eyes and slowly looked back, her eyes finally coming in contact with the culprit of her heart attack, seeing Dylan standing there, eyes and mouth wide open, his already pale skin even paler and his breath uneven. On the process of being scared, she had managed to scare him back, nearly making the young man going deaf.

“Filho da puta,” she shouted, her hands reaching her accelerated heart as she tried to calm it down, her head tilted down, her free hand resting against her forehead. “Son of a bitch.”

Dylan kept looking at her, his eyes still wide open, but his mouth had turned into a smirk. “You've got some lungs, huh?”

She looked at him wanting to be able to murderer the man. He knew very well that she didn't like being in there all by herself and he went and scared her? Ok, maybe he hadn't meant it, but what could you expect to happen when you sneak behind someone's back and they've got earphones on?

With her heart calming down, but still beating too rapidly for her liking, she reached down and threw some of his own clothes at him, rolling her eyes as he laughed at her. She hated him. She really hated him.

Dylan could only laugh. “What are you doing here?”

Ananda looked from him to the working machine, back to him and crossed her arms over her chest. It was an obvious question and she couldn’t actually believed he had asked it. “Laundry,” she limited herself on saying. “This is the laundry room, right?”

Dylan surely had missed her sarcastic ways. The way she would look at him whenever he made a dumb question, her eyes struggling to not roll, her lips pulled in a scowl and how her nostrils seemed to inflate as her annoyed expression came on her face.

“I meant a, you don’t do your laundry on week days and b,” he paused scooting closer to her, the smirk still on his lips. “You hate being here all by yourself.”

The girl couldn’t deny it. He knew her like the back of his hand. He knew every little thing that was on her mind, before she even knew it herself, and that was what sucked the most about that friendhship. Because she wanted nothing more than to just roll her eyes at him and ignore him for the rest of her life, but since he knew she was doing it, he wouldn't let it happen.

“Well, Mister Know-It-All,” she started, her legs kicking her off the chair and leading her to the side of the machine, her body leaning over it as her elbows pressed against it. “For your information, I needed to do it today. Let has a meeting tomorrow and she lent me one of her pants, so I’m washing it right now.”

“Are you sure?”

Ananda blinked a couple of times. What did he mean she was sure? Of course she was. She had just talked to her best friend, whom she shared an apartment with, and she had just being told that said best friend had a meeting on the following day and she needed the clothes she was washing at that exact minute. Did that week away from her had caused Dylan to develop some kind of conditional disease that made him act weirdly?

“What do you mean I’m sure? Of course I am. She just told me.”

Dylan, who at this point was already unloading all his clothes into another machine, not caring about mixing them up, stopped and looked at the girl. She was leaned over her machine, her brown hair didn’t look as shiny as he knew they were under the incandescent light hanging from the low ceiling of the room. The brick walls contrasted greatly with her now pale skin, so much different than when she first arrived there. She was in great need of a tan to go back to the olive skin he knew that looked so great on her. He wasn’t going to lie: she looked perfect in anyway.

“Well, then why did I get kicked out of my own apartment because your best friend is there to celebrate her anniversary with my best friend?”

She didn’t have an answer. Let hadn’t said anything about it being that Friday. If she remembered well, Let and Tyler’s anniversary weren’t for another whole week, so why were them already celebrating it?

And then it hit her like a brick. “You think they planned it?”

“I’m sure they did,” Dylan said with a roll of eyes. He knew it the moment he saw her sitting with her back to the door, but he didn’t want to be the first one to bring it up. He also quite of agreed with their friends’ decision. They needed to talk. “Tyler keeps telling me we need to talk and I told him it’s kind of hard when the person you need to talk to is ignoring you.” There was a long pause this time, like he wanted her to react to what he had said, but all she could do was stare at the wall in front of her, never meeting his eyes. “What happened to us?” He pressed. “Do you remember anything?”

“Not really,” Ananda sighed. She didn’t know what she was doing, but she felt compelled on talking to him. “I can’t tell if they’re actual memories or just my imagination. You?”

“Kind of the same,” he said coming closer to her tentatively. “I remember enjoying it, though.”

The blood rushing to her face was thankfully hidden by the poor light. Never, in a million years, Ananda would have thought she was going to hear those words coming out of his mouth. It was going to be completely weird to hear it from any other guy, to hear it from Dylan was even weirder. It caused a mix of feelings to swirl in her, like her mind was trying to navigate through a vortex of thoughts and sentiments. She tried to reach for a surface, but there was nothing she could grab onto.

“Is this how it’s going to be for us now?” His voice sounded shallow, like he was tiptoeing around her, speaking carefully so he wouldn’t send them down the hole again. Dylan didn’t want to be away from her anymore.

“What do you mean?”

“Damn it, Ananda, we can barely be alone now,” Dylan said. He was tired and frustrated from everything that was going on, so much he couldn’t put into words. He always knew Ananda was too headstrong, but he never thought it was this much. “You don’t talk to me anymore, you don’t look at me, you don’t answer my texts or calls. I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” her voice was so low he thought he had misheard it, but the truth was there. She had said those words.

He smiled for real this time. “So can please put it past us? We don’t even know what really happened,” she gave him a pointed look. “Ok, we know, but we don’t remember. We can move on with our lives and pretend it didn’t happen. How about that?”

“I guess that would be fine.” Ananda, for as much as she liked to pretend that she wasn’t, was an emotive person. She was slowly fighting back the urge to start crying right there.

“I miss my best friend, ok?” Dylan said, his body completely next to hers now. “And the incredible person that she is and I don’t want a drunk mistake to be the thing that puts us apart.”

“Me neither,” she sighed, finally letting go of her stiff position and turning to him, a small smile playing on her lips this time. “You know what? Maybe this was for the best.”

“How?” Dylan scoffed. “How having our relationship shaken up was for the best?”

Ananda bit her lips and shook her head. They weren’t that shaken up, that she knew. Somehow, it just had made them realize how important they were for each other and how much they really cared about one another and when she voiced those thoughts, she saw Dylan’s eye color change slightly. They weren’t so dark anymore. There was light in them again.

“I don’t regret it, though,” he said silently, catching her attention. “Sure, I don’t remember it, but I don’t regret it. If anything, I’m glad it was you. You’re amazing and the level of intimacy we have surely went up by a hundred percent now, and I have yet to find a better girl than you.”

“Are you trying to make me die out of embarrassment?” Ananda was outraged. Did she really hear what she thought?

“I just wish I could remember, ok?” Dylan sighed his body leaning closer to hers. “Because, that way, I would’ve known how it felt, but I can only guess…” His eyes dancing from her eyes to her lips, the tip of his tongue running through his own lips. There was something else in the air, the tension thick. “Or maybe…”

“Maybe what?” she heard herself whispering, her eyes focusing on his for the first time ever since he walked into the room. The sound of the machines was the only noise in the air, but it was completely neglected by them. It was like nothing around them mattered anymore, like the two of them were in a trance.

Their breath mingled, their eyes danced around each other’s faces and their bodies kept leaning into one another. It was pure bliss surrounding them, the rhythm of their hearts beating to the same beat, the anticipation cursing through his veins.

Suddenly, Ananda felt like she was at the end of a first date, that feeling you get when you reach your porch and don’t know what’s to come next. Was he going to kiss her? Would she let him do it? Would it mean anything?

She didn’t know about the first one or the last one, but she was sure about the second question. If he tried, she would let him do it, hell she would even reciprocate. She couldn’t deny that there was a curiosity lurking her mind ever since the previous weekend when she woke up with him by her side, but it was more than that. It was the way he was looking at her, it was the way his eyes flickered when he laughed or how his voice sounded. It was every little thing that she hadn’t paid attention to. It was his smell, the way his hair fell on his forehead, the feeling of his beard against her face. She wanted to have all of that again and remember it this time.

And that was why she didn’t fight back when he finally closed the distance between them, his lips slowly and tentatively pressing on hers, like he was afraid of what her reaction was going to be. It felt like he was having his first kiss all over again, the way his hands were shaking and he didn’t know what to do with them, but he managed it, just like it happened all those years before. And it was blissfully good. The way her lips smoldered against his, so softly at first that he wasn’t sure he was awake.

He didn't want it end; He realized, with a sorrow in his heart, that he didn’t want to let her out of his arms any time soon and that sucked, but he was going to be just great.

Of course nothing was great. Everything was so far from being ok that Dylan wanted to scream at the walls until his thoughts would leave his mind, mostly because it was his fault. It was him who initiated the kiss, it was him who wanted to do that and it was him that couldn’t take it off his mind. And how he hated it.

Things weren’t bad between them, far from it. It felt like they had moved past that week and that everything seemed to go back into place, but while things did look like it on the outside, Dylan was dealing with a lot on the inside. Because there wasn’t a single second he didn’t remember about that kiss in the laundry room or the small smile she had on the second they pulled apart and it was eating him alive.

His day had started like any other and the walk to his work had been nothing but boring, with the same boring people looking at the same boring way. Everything seemed to be grey, like any presence of color had suddenly been forbidden. Even the sky wasn’t in its usual shade of blue. Or maybe it was just him, maybe it was his dark mood affecting everything he touched, because as soon as he pushed the door to the vet clinic open, a radiant smile came into contact with his eyes.

“Good morning, sweetie,” chirped Mrs. Olsen, the receptionist. She was a very adorable lady, with her bright blue eyes and almost completely grey hair. Dylan had yet to see a day she wasn’t smiling at everyone walking through that door no matter what and he had known her for three years.

“Morning, Mrs. O,” he mumbled not even finishing his walk to his office, plopping down on one of the soft chairs in the waiting room, his eyes closed, his arms crossed over his chest and a big sigh leaving his lips. “But nothing’s good coming out of it.”

Had his eyes been opened, he would have seen the old lady send him a quizzical look, her brows scrunching up as she looked at the pile of clothes he had been reduced to. He was always a very charming, very energetic boy and she was used to seeing him oozing excitement every time he walked in, so seeing him mopping was somewhat affecting her.

“What’s the matter, son?” she asked walking from behind her desk, her light footsteps leading her to his side, her small hands brushing the hair from his forehead. “Are you sick?”

Dylan opened one eye, a small smile making way on his lips as he stared at the woman he had come to love as his second mother. She was so genuine in everything she said and expressed that he couldn’t help but be happy at the thought of her being worried about him. He knew that, if needed, she would send him back straight home and not hear a word of his complaints. But that wasn’t the case. He was sick, but not from something that could be cured with a good night’s sleep or some medicine.

“You could say that,” he sighed, his body curling up against the chair as best as he could. “Tell me, Mrs. O, have you ever done something that you shouldn’t and then keep thinking about it all the time?”

She gave him a suspicious look. “Is it something illegal?”

“No, it’s not,” he chuckled. “Though I think it should be.”

Mrs. Olsen eyed the boy, taking her time to try and understand what he was saying. She had been close to him pretty much ever since he had started working in the clinic, automatically making his way through her heart. Dylan was a kind soul, acting respectful towards everyone, never mistreating anyone. He had always been a ray of sunshine in the clinic, so seeing him so down like that morning was not okay with her.

She was certain something had happened over the course of the past week, with his excitement dwindling down each day, but she thought he was just tired and stressed, and thought all he needed was a good rest over the weekend. Now she was rethinking everything. He had bags under his eyes, his hair was a little disheveled and it looked like he hadn’t put any effort into dressing up in the morning, with his black shirt wrinkled.  

Although there were a lot of things that could lead Dylan into that state, she also noticed how he hadn’t walked in holding a cup of coffee or his phone in his hand, something he always did. It was customary of the man to have breakfast with a girl she thought very pretty, but he had sworn they were just friends. She guessed it wasn’t the case anymore.

“Is it about a girl?” she asked again, a small smile on her lips. Of course it was.

Dylan sighed and nodded. It wasn’t about any girl, though. It was about a girl he should never think of that way given their previous status and when he told her everything, from the waking up next to her to kissing her on that Friday night, she looked at him like he was talking the most ridiculous things in the world.

“Have I ever told you how my husband and I met?” she had turned completely to him, her small frame fitting into the chair perfectly. “It was in 1969, when we were in high school,” she smiled. “We had the same group of friends and we used to hang out in this diner after school and we somehow ended up being great friends. Everyone thought that there was something going on between us, you know,” she chuckled lightly. “But the truth was that we were such great friends that we could talk about pretty much everything. When his brother died in a car crash, I was the first one he ran to when he found out. When my mom fell sick, I could only find comfort on him and his friendship. It wasn’t until the end of 1970 that I realized that I liked him more than just a friend,” she squeezed his hands in reassurance. “Those feelings, Dylan, the ones that hit us after a while, the ones we never really knew we were looking for, are pretty powerful. They shake us to the core, make we go to hell and back, but they’re usually not wrong. She tried to avoid you, right?” he nodded. “She must have been scared of what she felt. I remember how Howard was scared to tell me he had feelings for me and it literally took him two of our friends to make him do it,” she laughed a little, her eyes scanning Dylan’s, trying to convey as much courage in them as she could. “Talk to her. If you’re scared it might drive her away from you, she wasn’t that good of a friend, but chances are she feels the exact same way.”

He looked at the woman in front of him, his thoughts running a hundred miles per hour as he went over everything she had just told him and he tried to compare it to everything they had lived so far, all the times someone had asked if they were together, how he felt at ease when she was around, how she was always running to him whenever she felt homesick, how they always had fun together and liked to be in each other’s presence more than anything.

Dylan thought of all the times he had wanted to just cut off communication with the rest of the world after a long and exhausting day at work, but then he would see her smiley face and puppy brown eyes, just begging for some kind of attention, a movie night or just talking, and he would give up. He would give up pretty much anything just so she could be happy and he knew she would do the same, she had done the same countless times, and then he smiled.

“You’re right, Mrs. O,” he said, a new found resolution within him. He was going to walk out of that door, march up to Ananda and tell her that everything hadn’t been a mistake. At least not anymore.

But it was so much more easier said than done.

As the days rolled by, Dylan found himself trying to come up with that courage that had invaded him during the conversation with Mrs Olsen, but whenever he saw Ananda, her brown eyes and smiling face, he would start to rethink everything, every life choice he had made so far and his brain would stop working, freezing all of his functions as he just stared at her and tried his best to not act like a complete fool. It was hard, he was pretty sure she was aware of how he could barely talk to her anymore and it pained him.

There was always a lingering silence between them, a thick tension that no one could cut through and it ruined everything. As much as both of them tried to come up with a light conversation, it would soon be over with an uncomfortable smile and their faces turning the other way.

Things weren’t going that differently that night. Dylan had come home a little earlier from the clinic, his shoulders down and his mind set on relaxing for the rest of the night, but the sight of Tyler walking out of his room ready to go out made him hault. He really hoped his best friend wasn’t going to make him go with him.

But, of course, it hadn’t been the case.

“You know how much I had to bargain for that, Dyldo?” he asked, still trying to convince the man. “Let wasn’t keen on letting me have a night out with the guys, but I managed it, and you’re not going to ruin this for me, man. You’re going.”

Dylan sighed. “You go without me, man.”

“I don’t think you’re understanding the situation here,” Tyler grabbed him by the shoulders and, with a stern look, he spoke real slowly. “You’re going with me whether you like it or not. It was one of the terms I had to accept.”

“What?”

“Come on, Dylan,” Tyler rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking for much. You go out for a little while, we have fun, you distract your mind from work and you’ll be home soon enough to spend all the time you want with Ananda.”

Funny how one simple name could make everything change, Dylan thought. Not that he wanted to go out and forget about the girl, but he really needed a time out to think things through. Maybe all he needed was a little bit of alcohol to make his mind clearer and finally understand what was going on with him. How that would work, he had no idea, but he was willing to try.

And that was why the brown eyed man found himself fully dressed, hair styled and ready to leave in no more than 30 minutes, his fingers cracking in anxiety as he waited for Tyler to say goodbye to his girlfriend, her small frame leaned against their counter as she said, one more time, all the things she expected from him and the man, like a well trained puppy, nodded at each word she said. It was funny to watch their interaction, the way she said everything and how Tyler paid attention to every word.

“You take care of him for me, ok, Dyl?” she said to him, a smile on her lips as she made her way to the front door. “And I’ll take care of Ananda for you,” the girl completed walking into the hallway and never looking back, leaving a perplexed Dylan as he tried his best to shout a come back to her.

There was no need on taking care of her for him. They weren’t anything. They didn’t have anything. Sadly.

That was not how Ananda thought she was going to be spending her night.

When Let said she wanted to have a girls’ night, she imagined them going out, shopping, having dinner somewhere or even having a walk down the park, not staying home and watching old movies and eating chinese. They were young, they had worked their asses off the whole week and they deserved to do something, anything at all, that didn’t involve being home, but she had chosen a 84 year-old best friend, by the looks of it.

It was probably the third movie of the night, but she wasn’t paying close attention to it, her mind going back and forth, distracted by the low chimes of her phone whenever a text came through. By the time she had lowered her head to look at her phone for the tenth time during the first five minutes of that movie, Let looked up at her, a scowl on her face as she kicked her friend’s leg from the other side of the couch.

“Who is it that demands so much attention of you?” she asked with a roll of eyes.

Ananda let out a small chuckle and turned the device to the girl, a video of Dylan and Tyler illuminating the screen. They were standing back to back, both men holding a pint glass on their hands as they chugged it down, voices chanting their names in the background as they did their best to finish it first.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Let mumbled, her head shaking. “I told them to be responsible and that’s what they do? I can’t fucking believe it.”

“Come on, Let,” Ananda smiled. “They’re just having a bit of fun. It’s not like you’ve never done it.”

Let blinked a couple of times and shrugged it off. Yeah, she was being a bit of a hypocrite in that situation.

“And why are you seeing these videos?” She asked after a moment of silence, her mind finally catching up on the fact that she hadn’t received any message.

“One of the boys sent it to me,” the Brazilian shrugged. “So we wouldn’t be worried, as he said.”

She hadn’t exactly understood why someone would send her that, but given the fact that Tyler and Let were dating, they assumed all of them were pretty close and wanted to make sure no parts were left out of what was going on with the two boys. At least that was what she thought, until she received another message, a picture this time, of Dylan smiling smugly at Tyler, his hands up in the air as he celebrated his winning. His shirt had ridden up, showing some innocent bit of skin on his stomach, the path leading down to his pants and suddenly her thoughts weren’t so innocent anymore.

But what intrigued her the most, was the caption of the picture. There, in bolded letters, had been written Your boyfriend won.

It wasn’t the first time and it wasn’t going to be the last one. She had lost count of times people had said they were a couple, that they should be a couple or that they would end up being a couple and she was tired of it. They were best friends. Best friends who had slept together after a drunk mistake. Best friends that had kissed one night where no alcohol was involved, but best friends nonetheless.

Ananda couldn’t deny the fact that there was chemistry between them with the playful flirts over the years and knowing what to do around each other, but that was it. They were platonically involved, nothing more. And yet, she couldn’t deny that she wished there could be a little more, that was why she was so scared when she first woke up next to him.

Because she remembered walking in that one class they had shared, looking around and finding him sitting by the end of the third row, his head down reading some book. And then he looked up and she could’ve sworn she felt like she had been knocked off her feet. It was silly, but she felt like his eyes could pierce into her very soul and bring out her darkest secrets. They held so much light and life within them that it seemed just impossible to steer away from it. And that was why she felt compelled to sit next to him, starting then and there something that would lead up to their friendship and unrequited feelings of the present.

She huffed in annoyance at the caption, tired of having to explain to everyone that they were dating.

“Don’t,” was all Let said, her body suddenly behind Ananda’s, her head poking through her shoulders as she read the text still showing on the screen.

“Huh?”

“Don’t be a hypocrite,” she explained. “Why do you think everyone thinks you two are together?”

“Hm… Because we have some incredibly noisy friends that like to say those kind of stuff,” the Brazilian girl replied in provocation, but her best friend wasn’t having any of it.

“We can see the way you look at each other,” Let said with a roll of eyes. “Don’t deny it, you like him.”

“Of course I do. As my best friend!” Ananda insisted.

“Ok,” Let sighed, a thought running through her head. If Ananda wasn’t going to admit willingly, she was going to force it out of her. “So you’re telling me you don’t mind he’s out now, having a good time, checking girls out and being checked out?”

Ananda felt something changing inside of her, a slight turn in her chest as she thought about it. There was nothing wrong with Dylan being out and checking girls out, right? He was single, he was free. “Of course not,” she said with certainty.

“You don’t mind that there might be a girl eyeing him up and down and thinking ‘that’s some fine ass’ because it is?” Let pressed.

She could almost picture it. Some girl watching him from the other side of the pub, a low cut dress showing more than it should, her luscious lips adorned in a red lipstick, her pearly white teeth showing as she smiled down at Dylan maliciously.

“Nope,” she mumbled.

“And you don’t mind if she walks up to him, with a smile on her lips, and her hands start to trace his shoulders and arms, going dangerously lower?”

She was walking to him now, more like strutting, making the whole distance between them her runway, her eyes set on him. And he couldn’t take his eyes off of her, too entranced on the beautiful girl in front of him, with her long legs and tall figure, her feet graciously balancing themselves on stupidly high heels, her hair waving back her shoulders. She finally reached him, her hands slowly touching his shoulders as she leaned forward, giving more view of her cleavage, whispering something on his ear, his eyes changing to a dark color as he listened to it, hands grasping her waist.

But it was all in her head and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was going on as the two girls spoke, Ananda’s hands slightly shaking from what she was feeling.

“No,” she said through gritted teeth, her hands balling up in fists trying to contain the sudden urge of punching someone that had overwhelmed her.

“Then it’s fine by me,” Let finally let go, a smirk on her lips as she watched the expression on her friend’s face change from soft to a scowl.

But it was already too late. The imagine was burning into the girl’s mind and she was fighting every instinct inside of her, every fiber of her screaming at her for changing into something more suitable and going after him. But why would she? She thought in a moment of lucidity. He could be with anyone he wanted and she was only his friend, nothing else.

And it was at that very moment that Ananda realized that maybe, just maybe, she needed him more than she thought she did.

However, things weren’t going exactly as the girl had pictured it as Dylan was being dragged out of the bar by his friends with a black eye, a cut on his lips and his knuckles bruised, not to mention the little blood that had found its way to his shirt.

It all had happened way too fast for his liking and when he realized it, he was already at the table next to the bar, his fists flying to the guy’s nose, cutting his story short as he bragged about everything he had done. Dylan had aimed to hit it so hard he hoped it was broken, and by the amount of blood that oozed out of the guy’s nose, he was sure he had done his job perfectly, making him grin to himself. He had wanted to do that ever since he met the guy, years ago.

The poor bastard - not so poor but a bastard nonetheless - was Logan Hersey, a football player back in college that Dylan had the displeasure of meeting after he started dating Ananda. It was hate at first sight for both of them. Logan couldn’t stand the fact that his girlfriend spent too much time around a guy that wasn’t him, always begging her to stop being friends with Dylan, which only added to the hatred the brunette guy felt for the player. For months, they were like water and wine, never really mixing but walking side by side because of the girl and Dylan couldn’t be happier when they broke up.

The guy was a total prat.

And the moment Dylan saw him walking into the pub, he knew his night was going to be ruined. It was like that guy brought grey clouds into the room every time he walked in with his obnoxious friends and the vet warned his friends as soon as they saw the group walking up to a table close to them and did their best to ignore whatever was said in the douchebag’s table - as they had called it - but one can only have enough.

“I date a girl once,” Logan said, his voice carrying over the loud music playing on the speakers, his neck craned to the side in an obvious attempt of making Dylan hear what he was talking about. He had been doing that the whole night. “She was wild,” he laughed. “Brazilians, man, I’m telling you. They do everything you tell them to.”

Dylan knew what was coming and why he was doing that. Logan had some kind of comfort on knowing that he could affect the man when talking about Ananda and he always did that when he was close. Every other time, Dylan had restrained himself because of his best friend, but this time she wasn’t there and they weren’t dating anymore. If Logan said one more thing, he was going to act.

It didn’t take longer than five minutes. Logan was already laughing and bragging about his sexual encounters with the girl once again, his eyes moving to the group of men behind him every now and then, making sure they were listening to everything he was saying.

“Maybe you should have a little more respect,” he heard from behind him, a firm hand clasping on his shoulder rather forcefully, but didn’t back down.

“Oh?” he smirked at Dylan, his head tilting back and looking at the man from upside down. “O’Brien, man, didn’t see you there,” Logan laughed. “It’s been a while.”

Dylan squinted his eyes, choosing not to enter whatever game the other man was playing and said nothing.

“Oh, come on. You can’t be mad at me after all these years,” Logan chuckled. “You can’t get over the fact that the girl chose me over you?”

“I wasn’t aware there was a competition,” Dylan limited himself to say, his face still pulled in a frown.

“Oh, but you see,” Logan smiled and turned in his seat, his front now facing Dylan. “There was a small thing I like to call ‘Win yourself a girl’ and you lost, my friend,” he finished dramatically, his army of friends laughing along adding fuel to the burning hatred Dylan was boiling inside of him. “You can’t be mad at me for scoring the slut, O’Brien. I was going to play dirty to get that hot ass.”

And that was when Dylan felt himself pulling back his arm only to slam it back against Logan’s nose, his fist curled up in a ball, blood oozing out of the other guy and splattering against his shirt. What followed next was a ruckus of chairs being scrapped against the floor and bodies getting up, trying to understand what was going on.

Logan, from the floor, held his nose with both of his hands, tears prickling in his eyes as he tried to understand where he was and what had happened.

“What the fuck?” he shouted, his voice completely muffled by his hands. “Are you fucking crazy, O’Brien? You’re this mad about some whore? You’re too butthurt she didn’t sit on your dick?”

What followed next was a blur of bodies launching at one another, Dylan hitting Logan one more time before one of his gigantic friends pulled him off, hitting him on the lips, a cut busting open almost immediately, which made Tyler and his friends dive into the mess that was going on, fists flying everywhere, occasionally hitting something or someone.

It took four of the securities men to break them apart, Dylan holding Logan’s shirt in his hands as he went for another punch, hoping to crack the asshole’s skull open, but he came into contact with nothing but air, as a big man pushed him away, yelling at both groups to get the hell out of the pub and never come back.

“Damn, Dylan,” Thomas gasped out, his British accent echoing down the empty street as he tried to calm his erratic breathing. “What the hell was that?”

But Dylan couldn’t answer anything. He was still too furious about everything he had heard, his hands still shaking from all the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He couldn’t believe he had done it. For the first time in his life, he had been in a fight and, hadn’t him been stopped, he was pretty sure he would’ve beaten the crap out of Logan. There wasn’t a hint of regret on him, the jackass deserving everything that happened to him and maybe more.

Tyler groaned at his side. “Fuck, man. Let is gonna kill me,” he said as he looked at his reflection on a shop window. His jaw was severely bruised, a big purple on his eyes and some swollen lip. That was far from the quiet night he was hoping on having.

The doorbell was ringing unceasingly, waking up not only the owners of the apartment but also some of the other people living on the same floor, much to Dylan’s annoyance. He didn’t need anyone peeking through their doors and seeing him and Tyler all bruised and looking like they had just taken the worst beat ever. They were winning the fight.

The door finally opened, the light from the living room illuminating the hallway, making the two of them presentable to a very frightened Ananda, who had taken in their appearance and closed her hand over mouth, trying to contain a loud gasp. From behind her, it was possible to see a distressed Let, her eyes widening in worry as she looked at her disheveled boyfriend and imagined what had happened.

Tyler walked into the apartment, not even waiting to be asked him, and plopped down the couch, his head resting against the back of it as he closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Dylan, on the other hand, was still waiting by the door frame, his eyes searching for Ananda’s who could only look back at him not understanding what was going on, worry flooding her system.

She took hesitant steps forwards, her hands slowly reaching out for Dylan, waiting for him to flinch. When he didn’t, she grabbed his hands and pushed him into her, her arms closing around his middle in a tight embrace, feeling his calm heartbeat against her ear.

“What happened?” she asked slowly, her head tilting back in order to give him a better look, but all she found was a lack of response from him, his eyes set on Tyler, as if telling him to keep his mouth shut. “What happened, Dylan?” When he didn’t say anything, the girl turned to Tyler, her eyes pleading for an answer.

The man sighed, looked at his girlfriend and then at his friend before shaking his head. “We had a run in with Logan and some of his friends.”

Ananda blinked a couple of times before turning to Dylan, her eyes squinted at him as he tried his best to avoid her gaze.

“Logan Hersey?” she asked, but she already knew the answer to that question. There was only one Logan that could provoke such primal instincts on Dylan. “Oh, please tell me you didn’t have a fight with Logan Hersey, Dylan.”

She looked furious and rightfully so. She had lost count of how many times she had asked him to forget about that guy and ignore everything he had to say, but, apparently, she was asking for too much.

“I can’t believe you fucking had a fight with him,” she was fuming, her arms no longer wrapped around him as she paced around the living room, looking at him as she tried to give sense to why he had acted that way. “I told you to not pay attention to anything he has to say, Dylan, that he’s an asshole and wants to get a reaction out of you, but do you fucking listen to me?” Her accent was all over the place now, becoming too thick when she was mad about something and all he could think about was how he found that beautiful. He was screwed.

“He was talking shit about you!” he shouted back, his brain finally being able to function. “I wasn’t going to let him say those things, you know?”

“Oooh,” she laughed sarcastically. “My knight in a shining armor. I don’t fucking care, Dylan! For all I care, he could say that I’m a fucking whore and I wouldn’t mind. Because I don’t mind what his friends think of me, ok? I mind about what you think of me.”

“Well, I care when people talk shit about you, Ananda. Fuck!” Dylan let out, his shoulders relaxing as he walked up to her, grabbing the girl by her arms to make her stop walking around. “I hate it when I have to hear anything bad about you. And it killed me to hear him talking about you like you were a disposable thing,” he took a deep breath, his eyes finally looking into hers. “Fuck, I care way too much about you to let anyone say those kind of things when I’m around, ok? You have a problem with it? Deal with it, because I won’t stop caring about you or about what people say about you.”

The girl stood there, frozen on her spot, her eyes gazing the man in front of her, her thoughts way too confused to think of anything else to say. Of course he would care, he was his best friend, but there was something else lingering between them and she could feel it. She could see it in the way his chest was raising and falling as his breath came out in large puffs of air, the way he was holding her down and looking at her, almost begging for her to understand his reasoning. It was more than what she had bargained for. It went completely beyond their friendship, the platonical feelings they had for each other. Those were long gone now and there was only this vibrant new feeling between them; stronger, burning hotter than ever before.

What broke them apart was Tyler coughing from the couch, reminding them that they weren’t alone. It was possible to see Let rolling her eyes at him before grasping his hands and pushing him down the hall leading to the rooms, annoyance written all over her face as she tried her best to not hit him on the head.

Ananda sighed, her eyes casting down, seeing the bruised knuckles on Dylan’s hand, slowly reaching for them and softly tracing the outline of the wounded skin.

“Does this hurt when I touch it?” she mumbled.

“Just a little bit,” he said with a small chuckle, trying his best to not make a face and betray his words.

“Liar,” she smiled. “I’d hate to see the other guy.”

“Oh, he ended up looking horrible,” he laughed and shrugged, his eyes falling on hers once more.

“Come on,” she tugged on his right hand. “I need to clean your knuckles and cut lip.”

The way to the kitchen was short, but they never let go of each other, not even when Ananda had to open the refrigerator to grab a package of frozen carrots so Dylan could put it on his black eye, or when she had to reach for the top shelf in the cabinet, where she stored the first-aid kit. It caused a little trouble, but neither of them thought about disconnecting their fingers.

“It’s gonna sting,” she said after a while, turning to him with a piece of cotton soaked in antiseptic, right after cleaning the cuts with distilled water. “But you’re gonna be fine.”

The first reaction he had was to close his eyes and wait for the contact that was to come, internally flinching at the pain that was to come. He had done that countless times to a huge variety of animals that came into the clinic, but never had it done to himself, at least not when he was a grown up and after a fight. But he soon learned that he didn’t have to worry about it. Ananda’s touch was so gentle, almost like a caress and the small stinging sensation on his lips was nothing he couldn’t endure.

Almost as soon as it started, it was over. Dylan opened his eyes and came in contact with a void, his good eye trying to find the girl that was in front of him not even a second before, only to find her throwing away everything she had used on him.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He didn’t know why he had, but the atmosphere around them seemed so peaceful that he didn’t want to disrupt it.

“Thank you for defending my honour,” she smiled poking his cheek slowly, making sure she didn’t hit his cut lip or his eye.

“I would do that anytime.”

And maybe it was the calm air around them, or the overwhelming feeling of doing something that pressed at his chest, but Dylan found himself leaning in to the girl, his eyes holding her stare, trying to find any sign of reluctance on them, but when didn’t find any, he finally closed the distance between them, his lips pressing hers in a tender way, not moving as if too afraid it was just a dream and he would wake up without her.

It was Ananda who moved first, her lips slowly sliding against his in a slow kiss, her skin prickling and tingling at the sensation of his chapped lips moving against her soft ones, his hands holding her by the waist, pulling her flush against him. It was all a new feeling, something neither of them had ever felt, not even with the shy kiss they had shared in the laundry room.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, her hands running up and down his hair, something she had always wanted to do, involuntarily pushing him harder against her, their lips pressing with more force, making Dylan whimper and pull back.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she bit her lower lip, her eyes scanning his face for any indication of pain.

“It’s fine,” he chuckled and pecked her lips one more time. “But maybe we should lay back on the harsh kisses.”

She smiled, her eyes cast down, her cheeks in a pink hue as she thought about his words. It meant there was more to come, it meant he wanted more from her.

“So where does that leave us?” she mumbled, a bit scared of knowing what his answer was going to be.

“Where do you want it to?” he asked back, his eyes sparkling in the flourescent light of the kitchen, but there was something else too. Hope. “Because I’m right where you are, baby.”

Ananda decided she liked the way the pet name rolled off his tongue and reached her ears. She liked being called that and the fact that he was the one to call her that.

“Are you sure you want this to happen?” she asked cautiously, a glint of mischief on her eyes. “I mean, the World Cup is almost upon us and you know how crazy I get over football.”

“First,” Dylan chuckled. “It’s soccer. Second, I think I can handle you being a little crazy.”

“It’s football because you play it with your feet,” she sassed. “Take it from the girl who comes from the country with 5 titles,” she winked.

The past two hours had been a rollercoaster of emotions, with people screaming at the TV, offenses thrown at the ref and popcorn flying everywhere. Ananda had her head pressed against Dylan’s chest, her eyes closing every now and then, too perplexed with everything going on, too saddened to see her beloved team struggle. It wasn’t what she imagined that would happen and she wanted to just curl up in a ball and cry her eyes out.

“Do something, Dyl!” she mumbled against his yellow jersey, the five green stars taunting her mockingly.

“What do you want me to do, babe?” he murmured back, his hands stroking her back and caressing her head.

“Get on the field, do something!”

Dylan could only shield her eyes from the TV, shaking his head at her as he tried to think of ways to cheer her up. He had seen her upset over a game, yes. Mad and pissed off too, but never this sad. It was like the other team was a horde of Dementors sucking her soul away and all the happiness the bubbly girl once had.

And then the ref blew the whistle and the air around everyone stopped, no sound coming out of anyone, except for the TV, loud cheers coming from it, but it was the wrong color celebrating.

A wave of red chanted at the top of their lungs, their screams only meaning they had done the unthinkable: they had beat the odds and smashed the team that was seen as the favorite one, crushing the dreams on 200 million people, Ananda included.

All eyes turned to her, hers glued to a point behind the TV set, her frame frozen on the spot, her face stuck on a horror expression. It couldn’t be possible. She was having a nightmare and she was going to wake up any minute now, at the comfort of her own bed without her hopes being left down, because it just couldn’t be.

The girl felt everyone looking at her, their breaths held as they waited for her to say anything, an outburst of any kind, but they only met a complete void, she was just petrified. It was like all her blood had turned cold and her mind buzzed, replaying all the last two hours of her life.

And it was then that the tears came; all at the same time, leaving her eyes like a waterfall glistening under the sunlight, cascading down her face and washing away all the yellow and green makeup she was wearing, her hand reaching her mouth trying to contain the sobs that threatened to come out of her. Her whole body was shaking, fighting back the urge of shamelessly crying in front of all her friends over something as silly as soccer.

Only it wasn’t just that to her. It was a long desired wish, something she wanted so bad to happen, to claim as her own, but now it was out of their reach. Once more, Brazil’s national team had disappointed her and it seemed unfair, because this year they were playing way better than in 2014 and they couldn’t reach as far as they had before. And everything sucked.

She felt herself being pulled against her boyfriend, her face hidden in the jersey she had bought for him, her makeup smearing on the fabric, not a care given as he cradled her in his arms and whispered sweet nothings into her ear, trying his best to make her forget all about it.

Slowly, everyone seemed to vanish, their steps echoing around the small apartment, some even walking out of the place and into their own houses until there was only Ananda and Dylan in the once packed living room, the TV turned off, flags and horns abandoned serving as a reminder of what happened not even 15 minutes before.

“This is so ridiculous,” she mumbled, her hands running over her eyes, wiping away the tears and glitter on her face. She probably looked like a mess at the moment and she cringed at the thought of anyone seeing her like this.

“Oh, come on,” Dylan smiled. “It wasn’t that bad. So you cried because your team lost. Mine wasn’t even qualified.”

“That’s because your team sucks, mozi,” she grunted, a long sigh echoing around the room as she stared ahead, thinking about all the missed opportunities of scoring a single goal and buy some more time into the competition.

“Now, we welcome you into our home and that’s how you thank us?” he poked her side, trying to sparkle a laugh out of her. “That’s not nice,” he tried one more time.

She looked at him and laughed a little bit, but a small tear rolled from her left eye, stopping on her cheek as Dylan reached out and wiped it, holding her face in a sweet way.

“I’m sorry, babe,” he said sincerely. “You know that if I could, I would do something, right?”

Ananda smiled at him and nodded. He had been nothing but supportive of her during that half of a month, not caring if she was a little over the top or when she started to curse in Portuguese at everything. Soccer brought her ugly side and she knew that, she was just glad he didn’t mind it.

“You’re the best, you know that?”

“Me?” he scrunched up his face in doubt, holding back a smile when she poked his face.

“Yeah, you,” she laughed.  

“That’s because you make me want to be the best.”

And that was nothing but the truth. While they were just getting started on that relationship, there was nothing they wanted more than to be the best versions of themselves for the other. Much more than when they were friends, and much more each new day.

They had, unknowingly, been reaching for that ever since her birthday when they first overstepped the boundaries of friendship and turned it into something else. Because, suddenly, they weren’t just friends who knew everything about each other. Suddenly they were something else, something that craved more and more of each other each day and while it scared them, making them - mostly Ananda - put barriers between their new found feelings and what was to come, it also made them realize that they were never just friends. They could never be just friends.

And it was in the light of the sun streaming through the window on that very sad yet very happy day, that they finally saw how much they meant to each other and how much they had missed all those years.

Forever tag: @disbestiles, @malia--stilinski, @darlinganthony

[polizwrites]

WIP Update - 3 May 2022

Another fairly productive week -  I touched 7 fics (6 WIPs & 1 new work) for a total of  2624 words.   I posted a  ‘mission goes wrong & leads to love confessions’  WinterHawk ficlet (updated from here) and a   ‘young!Tony flirts with young!Brock Rumlow and gets more than he expected‘ IronBones rarepair fic over on Ao3, with a  WinterHawk ‘get-along shirt’ double drabble  written for Flash Fiction Friday here on Tumblr.

I’m sitting at 11 active WIPs  (with a couple of maybe TBCs)  with my current   deadlines being the WinterHawk Bingo  and Stucky Bingo which wrap up the end of May.   I did sign up for the

On the crafting side, I have one Stuffed With Character commission slots open for May.  

See below cut for the WIPs  (arranged more or less by bingos/challenges/etc) I am working on  -   feel free to send me prompts or plot bunnies as well as asks regarding any of these projects   (or any other WIPs I’ve got out there) – they really help feed the Muse and keep me motivated!

Going All In - IronBones Fic

After responding to @kahuna-burger‘s rarepair shipping ask, the Muse whispered in my ear and  the next thing I know, I’m writing a ‘young!Tony gets his aggressively flirty bluff called by a junior SHIELD agent who is clearly not as straight as anyone (including himself) thinks’.  The fic posted last Friday and came in at 2233 words. 

WinterHawk Bingo - Round 3 [WHB_R3] (Runs thru 31 May 2022)

Thirteen fills posted - one WIP at the moment - I got my Row 1 bingo and am one square away from B column and I column bingoes -  my goal is to get at least one of those completed by the end of next month.

* B5 - Huddling for Warmth -  thinking about combining this with one of the Meet Ugly Writing Prompts I reblogged: 02.  I bought a house three months ago but I’m finally moving in and discover you’ve been squatting because you’re homeless

* I3 - Happy Bucky Barnes  - seems a good match with my BBB   Happily Ever After  square - this may be a moodboard/ficlet Wedding Day combo  

* N3 - FREE -  Filling this with Chapter 3 of You Can’t Stop it with a Gun -  Young Clint is given the choice between going to jail or joining a shadowy organization - but this time it’s not SHIELD.   It’s in progress and up to 503 words.   Current Last Line: Kostya listened intently, but couldn’t hear a thing that sounded like choppers.

* G4 - Get-along shirt - this was a surprise double drabble fill based on last Friday’s  @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt [#FFF150 Pay Your Dues] .  Meeting Halfway came in at 200 words and was posted Friday here on Tumblr.

Stucky Bingo - Round 3 [SB R3] (Runs thru 31 May 2022)

22 fills with 3 WIPs, and one Vague Idea.   I’ve got Column B and I, and Row 1 bingos and am hoping to score a blackout, as I have one adopted fill done and another drafted.  

* N3 - FREE -  Flash of inspiration - get the May badge with a continuation of Something’s Starting Right Now   that adds Steve to the WinterHawk mix?   Maybe throw in WHB  G2 - "I see better from a distance" or  B5 - Huddling for Warmth? 

* N5 - KINK: Sugar Daddy  -  This will be filled by Chapter 4 of  Takin’ What They’re Givin’ (‘Cause I’m Workin’ for a Livin’) - Mission Four: Pour Some Sugar: Part 1 - Steve invites Bucky to meet him in New York for a weekend. This will also fill my STB Bingo ID Porn square and is  coming in at 2694 words to be posted on Friday.   Chapter 5  (Pour Some Sugar: Part 2)  is in already in progress at 574 words. Current Last Line: “Gonna give you everything you need, and I know you’ll do the same for me.”    

* G4 - KINK: End of the world sex - got some help brainstorming during March’s Discord server party -  I may be writing a porn parody of (some part of) Infinity War 😁   including Thanos wielding something other than a glove for the Infinity (of Sex) Stones. 

* O2 - AU: A/B/O  - planning to use this on the next chapter of   Flawed Hypothesis, which is Steve POV and currently sitting at  69 words.  Faustess might be helping out on this as well? Current Last Line: But now they were living in a new century,  where men could love and marry other men.  

* ADOPTED2 : Incubi/succubi AU -  Combined this with a  @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt  of Setting Heaven On Fire,  and using a poem I wrote years & years ago as lead-in for a  Stucky-by-proxy fic  Finally got traction on this and have a first draft coming in at 423 words.

A Warm Light Zine - Due 20 Jun

I got accepted as a writer for  A Warm Light Zine -  dedicated to 2012 Avenger era Stony and coming hopefully sometime this autumn!  I was assigned the 2012 canon-compliant category for a 2-5k fic.  While I can’t share much about it here, I do want to at least keep track of my word count: up to 467  

Steve | Tony | Bucky Bingo Round 2 [STBB R2]  (Runs thru 30 Jun 2022)

Nine fills, and three WIPs.  Taking advantage of the One Fill, One Bingo opportunity, and might get a Column B bingo as well.

* B4 - Working Out -  this came from a Bucky Barnes Bingo server party:   Binging Avengers Exercises -   the team posts their workouts online and modern!Bucky spends entirely too much time watching the channel - especially Captain America and Iron Man.

*  N2 - AU: Western  - possible crossover with MWAPB  Next Door Neighbors  – I have a decent idea for this one  (semi-inspired by a recent re-read of  Laura Ingalls Wilder A Long Winter)   and jotted down about 225 words’ worth of notes/VERY rough draft. Holding on to this to see if I can crossflll with an upcoming TSB square.  

* G4 - ID Porn -  see  Stucky Bingo - KINK: Sugar Daddy above

* O4 - Lazy Sunday Morning  -  have a smutty WinterIron idea for this one; need to get it jotted   down - will most likely cross over with my BBB  KINK: Edging square.

Started something to combining the following squares for the One Fill, One Bingo badge:    B5 - “Aliens, again?”, I5 - Lifeguard,  N5 - Barbeque,  G5 - River Rafting, O5 - Wakanda.    Avengers + Guardians in a partying mood = a huge headache for T’Challa.   It’s currently sitting at 339 words. Current Last Line:   I’m Sam, Sam Wilson – another friend of Steve’s.

Avengers Bingo [AvB] (Runs thru 24 Dec)

Two  fills posted and 0 WIPs - I decided to further challenge myself by pairing up each square with a unique combo of 2 original MCU Avengers! With the help of the STB Enthusiasts Discord folks - I’ve got all 16 squares   planned out, at least in terms of who to write about, and half of them have some sort of idea or crossover square to go along with them. Feel free to toss other plot  bunnies my way…  

* A2 - On the Run  - Natasha & Steve - crossover with  MWAPB - Farmer’s Market?   post CA:CW Wakanda ?

*  A4 - Mutual Pining  - Steve/Thor - crossover with  MWAPB - Thor.

* A3 - Reunited  -   Clint & Natasha  -  Endgame Ronin scene?

* B1 - Death - possible crossover with  MWAP Crying square – post Snap Bruce & Steve  mourning?

*  B3 - Road Trip  -  Bruce & Thor  - Post Grandmaster, pre-Thanos  space shenanigans

*  C1 - Opposites Attract - Clint/Thor  - there was a fun Tumblr  headcanon going around about a Bumbling Foreigner whose ignorance of  local customs  results in him flirting with/proposing to the prince -  this seems like a perfect matchup!  

* C3 - Reincarnation AU  -  Natasha & Tony  - post-Endgame

* C4 - Bodyguard AU  -  Thor/Tony  -  young!Tony - crush on Cap plays into attraction  (obvious title - Thunderstruck)  - holding on this til next round of TSB.  

* D1 - Friends w/ Benefits  - Clint/Steve - crossover with MWAPB Hawkeye/Clint Barton.

D2 - Romeo & Juliet AU  -  basic idea:  Steve (jock) & Tony  (geek) trying out for title roles in R&J - despite their respective  friend groups thinking it’s a terrible idea.  Both cliques end up  becoming friends.  

*  D3 - Bed Sharing  -  Bruce/Natasha - AoU compliant.

Man With a Plan (Steve Rogers) Bingo [MWAPB] (Runs thru 31 Dec)

Four fills, 1 WIPs and several Vague Ideas/potential cross fills with other bingos.  Prompts cheerfully accepted!  

* B2 - Next Door Neighbors  - see  STBB   AU: Western  above

* B3 - Farmer’s Market  - see  AvB On the Run above

* B4 - Powerless AU  - if Sunqueen and I decide to continue  Wrong Number, Right Call,  this would be a good fit.  

* B5 - “I don’t really want to wake up just yet.”  - this would probably be a good fit with Chapter 5 of   Takin’ What They’re Givin’ (‘Cause I’m Workin’ for a Livin’)

* I1 - Steve is here for TFAtWS  - this might go well with my BBB  “Oh, hell no"  square - Steve trolling  Bucky & Sam by sending the old man in with his shield?  (moodboard & ficlet?)

* I2 - Found Family  - see STBB One Fill, One Bingo above.

* I3 - Thor  - see AvB Mutual Pining above

* I5 - Dogsitting - possible crossover with  BBB “Run”  square - Steve & Bucky dogsitting for Lucky?  (moodboard + ficlet)

* N1 - School AU/Teacher AU  - if I decide to continue on with Technicalities (see Stucky Bingo  College AU above)  - I could fill this square  :: ponders::

* N3 - Online shopping - this might be fun as a crossover with BBB Thighs …?  (even tho lingerie is a "nah” for me) Steve and Tony buying a new wardrobe for Bucky  that show off his ass-ets?

* G4 - Canon Divergence post CA:TWS - possible  crossover with BBB  Kill List Bucky wreaking havoc on Hydra bases and  Steve & Sam catch up with him

* O1 - Crying - see AvB Death square above

*  O2 - Sex Pollen  -  Teenage Groot pollen =  aphrodisiac  hi-jinks. Quill & Gamora  warn the  couple (stucky)/throuple (Stuckony)  ahead of time, so no  dub-con.

* O3 - Hawkeye/Clint Barton  -  see AvB - Friends w/ Benefits  above.

Bucky Barnes Bingo - Round 4 [BBB_R4] (Runs thru 7 Jan 2023)

Four fills and  three WIPs -  looks like I’m already in good shape to start with  a Row 4 and/or Column K bingo!

* B3 - Sam Wilson|Falcon - this would be a good candidate for a continuation of After One Or Two False Starts

* U1 - Multiple Personalities -   I saw this and a WinterKnight  (Bucky/ Marc Spector | Steven Grant)  idea popped into my head.   Twice the Man You Expected (Bucky POV of the morning after a hookup with Marc… but waking up with Steven instead. 😁)   posted this morning and came in at 601 words.

* U2 - AU: Roommate  - see WHB Huddling for Warmth above

* U3 - Steve Rogers - slating for  Chapter 5 of  Never More to Go Astray (Stuckony Star Wars AU) Looks like this will be at least 6 chapters to get through two rounds of POVs.  Huge thanks to RudeArrow, who  is doing an AMAZING job of brainstorming and beta’ing with me!!  Chapter 5 (Bucky POV)  is currently sitting at 400 words. Current Last Line:   “How come I’m the errand boy?”  

* U4 - AU: Arranged Marriage - will probably pick Lady Natasha’s Consort and Lord Steve’s Companion  back up for this one.  

* U5 - Kill List -  see MWAP  - G4 - Canon Divergence.  Post CA:TWS above

* C1 - Merpeople  - possibly add a new chapter (or second work in a series) to  Something’s Starting Right Now

* C2 - "Oh, hell no” - possible crossover with MWAP I1 - Steve is here for TFaWS

* C4 - KINK: Aftercare -  probably holding onto this until the TSB bingo 😁

* C5 - “This might as well happen”  -  possible crossover with WHB Huddling for Warmth?

* K1 - Thighs - possible crossover with MWAP: N3 - Online Shopping.  

* K2 - Comics - sew the  Stuffed Marvel Classic Comics Bucky Barnes I drew up last month.  

* K3 - KINK: Edging  - see STB Lazy Sunday Morning above.

* K5 - Tony Stark | Iron Man -  @psychiccatpanda (aka Faustess) and I are teaming up again! This time on their Accidental Demon Summoning fic where Tony’s misadventures in the kitchen = Bucky being summoned.   Ty Stone features as the asshole boyfriend, and Clint as Bucky’s supervisor who is not as helpful as one might wish.   I’ve contributed about a thousand words so far to  Chapter 2   (Faustie had Chapter 1 already done by the time I joined in the fun)   and we’re having a great time!  No publication schedule planned as of yet - but we’re starting on Chapter 4…

* Y1 - “Do you trust me?” -  going to use this for Chapter 5 of Takin’ What They’re Givin’ (‘Cause I’m Workin’ for a Livin’) - Mission Four: Pour Some Sugar: Part 2.  I’m about 115 words into this, back to Bucky POV. Current Last Line: Not that it mattered to Bucky one way or another;  in fact, the thought that he was Steve’s first sexual experience was a little intimidating.

* Y2 - Never the fall that kills you -  this might be the title for the remix I want to do of   Seeds of Love  (by the super-talented @hddnone) Holding off on this til I get my TSB card, as I wanted to carry over my Secret Admirer  square for this as well.  

* Y3 - “Run”  -  see MWAP I5 - Dogsitting above.

* Y5 - Happily Ever After - see WHB  Happy Bucky Barnes above

————

On other creative fronts:  I have a Joan of Arc in progress with Arthur the Aardvark, Bub the Zombie and Gritty  in the works.  I currently have 1 May commission slot available and three for June.

if  you’re looking for one of a kind gifts (for a friend or something for yourself!)  you can plan ahead for  the next holiday season and check   out Stuffed With Character    over on Facebook for a full list of my designs (now over 80!).   They’re  mostly Marvel and monsters, but I have some Star Wars, Star   Trek, DC   and Disney figures as well. Plus I love to take custom design  requests  for any fandom!

[jorjathomas]

CAD Illustrator

This is my third CAD workshop and working with the new software Illustrator. Id like to say I began to get used to this software and realised a lot of the tools I have visited before in previous CAD workshops. However this lecture we looked at digital garment illustrators which made me discover how much I had yet to learn. Most fashion courses will cover this so it was beneficial for me to begin a understand on this topic. We began with a demo on how to create a symmetrical t-shirt on illustrator and then began to create one our self. I faced a lot of changes with open ended shapes and other errors which I have discussed below.

After following the first instructions smoothly (dragging an image into the artboard) we began the intricate work of the t-shirt. I was merely fooled by the simplicity of the garment as I thought all you had to do was to trace the image however my tutor proved me wrong quickly and made me realise how much effort goes into these templates. This demonstrated relied heavily on the Pen Tool and we was told to drag this onto a more accessible side of the page. Once doing this, I began using this tool and its features such as holding down to create curves. It was important to create anchor points here so I could then create the sleeve of the t-shirt. So far this was okay as I had done this briefly when using the type on a path tool in InDesign.

Once completing the previous steps we then had to duplicate the outline and then reflect it over on the other side. This saves you having to create the outline again and keeps the template symmetrical. I did this by going into Object- Transform and then the Reflect option. After dragging this across, we was then told to join these to outlines together. As the ends of the pen shapes are open, joining them created the other outlines of the t-shirt, the bottom hem and the neckline. I did this by using ctrl and J on my keyboard however once doing this I came across a problem. When showing my tutor this problem, she mentioned that I may have done the outlining wrong. Because it has joined in the middle there must have been a gap I may have created accidently when using the pen tool. Unfortunately there isn't a way to fix this other than starting the process again. This was okay for me to do as it enabled me to remember the steps and get used to this practise.

As I had to repeat the previous steps and completed the design without the points joining at random anchor points I was able to move onto the next step which was adding in ribbing on the t-shirt. This causes even more trouble as before which frustrated me as I didn't understand what I was doing wrong. I began to be wary of the amount of times I pestered my tutor in this lecture so I decided to listen and create as much notes as I can for the following steps and then look at the tutorials on teams once I had perfecting the previous instructions. Firstly I didn't realise that you had to create numerous copies of the neckline which caused me to use the undo buttons more frequently than before. I created the neckline by using the Ellipse Tool and clicking on the points on one half of the circle to delete one half of the circle. Once creating the semicircle we had to make it fit into existing outline however the problem I face was when we were told to change this circle into an outline. You do this by going into Object-Path and then Outline Stroke. However I may have missed a step in this lecture as I didn't see any changing in the template. I felt slight pressure to keep up with the call so I worked around this quickly and tried to find an alternative for creating the outline. I think this is what caused the issue in the second image above.

This is all I got up to in the lecture however I am going to recreate this and aim to finish the template with the help of the video tutorials. I will record my progress and final results below. In the meantime, I spent the rest of the afternoon talking to the members of my group. I showed them my CAD work from Friday and we shared with each other our mood board which we had created over the weekend. I was glad when my group members liked the work samples I had created for the brand and wanted to include some of them to portray our ideas. They specifically liked the illustration of the heart hugging itself as they felt this correlated with our vision of the brand and its purpose to highlight the importance of self care for women. For the rest of the afternoon the rest of the group members worked on their mood boards and blogs meanwhile I developed the ideas I designed on Friday with the help of the group members suggestions. below is some designs I developed.

My group suggested that I tried creating the potential logo in different colours, although we all liked the pink and red combination, its best to allow new colours so we have more to choose from. We are open to not sticking to a set of colours which is why I tried to make as many options to see what it would look like if we were to place this on our products. I like the Neutral and Pink combination as I think this reflects our idea of combining bright colours to loungewear. I think this because when looking at competitor research, the garments always consisted of neutral shades. Showing this in contrast with the pink could help a person perceive our intentions in a quick glance. I created this design using the Brush tool and made sure that I didn't have any background behind the design so it can go onto any element of our brand. What I liked about this feature is that I didn't have to be too precise because when I lift my pen off the screen, Illustrator automatically curves any imperfect lines. My aim of these designs is to focus on the curves and staying away from any sharp points as I think this wouldn't relate to our brands soft and delicate aesthetic. The heart design was inspired by the one to one I had with my tutor on Friday. He put forward the idea of creating a recognisable symbol within the text that you could pull out and use as another form of identification. As the group liked the heart, I asked them if I should include this into our brand name. They all agreed to try and do this which is what I had done in this practise. Above was my initial idea however I didn't know how to develop this with the skills I have learnt so far. As the tutor that proposed this idea wasn't available I had to google how to make the design which he has demonstrated the previous Friday.

I researched how to move the letters within the text box I had created so I could move them closer and on angles. I did this by going into Type and then Create Outline. I then went into Properties and clicked on the ungroup option which caused each lettering to become its own object. This enabled me to move the letters around and place them in a way that they slot into each other rather than on top of one another. I used the activated Adobe font, Soap, and then decided to use one of the letters to create the heart which I had drawn. Using the letter D I began to increase the stroke so the letter expanded into the shape above. I then added the heart drawing onto of this design and highlighted the two layers so I could group them together. Once reaching this point, I realised it didn't want to keep certain areas of the letter D as it doesn't make the heart as recognisable. I didn't know how to do this in Illustrator so I decided to transfer this problem into Photoshop where I could use the skills I had learnt in the previous trend research lecture. This design won’t be my final outcome if we were to use this logo, I will ask my tutor if there is a way to do this in Illustrator as this step has affected the quality of the heart. Initially, it took me a few times to transfer this into Photoshop as there was multiple options to choose the shapes outcome when pasting the design. Once finding the right one, I used the Eraser tool to get rid of the unwanted areas. I then pasted this back into Illustrator and arranged it so it was set back behind the other letters as the transfer between the two software's created a white square around the heart. Below is the results.

Above you can see some options of the logo which I made. I decided to choose some different stroke outcomes as I felt the first outcome on the left didn't look as eye-catching. I experimented with stroke thickness as it ties in with the drawn heart. I think my favourite is the third outcome on the left as it isn't too thick. With these results, I am wary not to make it too childlike with these types of font which is why it important that I create something with a simpler font as well. I created the planet design after these designs using the Ellipse and Brush tool. I decided to add some text into the earth using a classier font which we could use however, I don't know how to warp the text so it fitted into the globe. I will ask my tutor this if he doesn't cover it later on in the week. I am looking forward to showing the group this work and working in Illustrator more as I am beginning to like certain elements of it and the results I am making from this software. The next post will the groups mood board designs which they had shown in this discussion on teams