#writing this is making me realize supports hold half their abilities to counter other supports suzu/nade/lamp

[venture4treasure]

written august 11

saw some stuff on juno and here are some of my initial thoughts (please mind that; i didn't get to play her during her playtest period, i don't really watch overwatch gameplay content, and i tend to hold a negative attitude towards new characters cause i don't want to learn counterplay/new metas);

and obviously all of this is subject to massive change in a couple days when new season drops and hopefully an animated short

lore and character

i will not be writing juno content -- i know spacerocks is everywhere and it's very cute, but she just has so little content right now? and i can't imagine much more lore coming out during her release. she's mei's graduate school friend's daughter. she likes spaghetti westerns.

she also comes across as very very innocent and it kind of makes me uncomfortable. like the naivety + her design give me not great feelings. maybe my feelings on the matter will change when i hear more voice lines at release. she has so little voice lines right now and they all feel the same. it's just her talking about the novelty of being on earth + comparing everything to space and that's it.

whereas you have voice lines like venture and reinhardt on eichenwald where venture talks softer and more seriously/compassionately that really make you like venture as a person. i don't know anything about juno even after listening to her voicelines, there's so little to learn either directly or indirectly in her lines.

i saw a twitter post some time ago about how mauga might be the last character we get with major lore relevance for a long time (baptise's backstory/ex-lover). venture shows up with a new faction. juno shows up with a new faction. (same with illari). not relevant to juno, just wanted to talk about it because i wish there was more characters being released relevant to overwatch or talon or null sector,

venture got lore on release! didn't they dig into anubis -- the thing null sector is looking for?? where is the juno lore, she got teased as a character around the same time as venture, i would expect more lore written around her.

though, her perspective on omincs/null sector could be cool. especially, if she ran into ramattra before overwatch. although, her positive opinion of mei makes me think she's going to be sided with overwatch.

mauga had an awesome animated short -- completely flipped my opinion on him. venture, less-so, but they had arguably more lore in their gameplay trailer than most characters. so juno might get an awesome animated short

gameplay (im just a yapper, and don't actually check numbers too carefully. everything is in perspective of a kiriko one trick, bear with me)

i really don't like that they teased juno as 'space ranger' and then didn't use space ranger as her code name? like, i will be comm-ing her as 'space ranger' for the foreseeable future. i thought juno was her real name and space ranger was her in-game name. like 'venture' and 'sloan'.

also PLEASE no space ranger meta (i don't think she'll be meta without adjustments to other characters; eg. tank nerfs/buffs). im going to be so sad if we got kiriko nerf into a space ranger meta. i know kiriko/suzu isn't healthy for the game, but as a kiriko main who has little stake in the competitive health of the game, i am allowed to be overjoyed at buffs and sad at nerfs haha

not being able to go down with glide boost might be a yikes. widow/hitscan are going to have such a fun time getting her because she is stuck in the air with no vertical adjustment.

pulsar torpedoes seem really good? (surely this ability just gets shortened to "missiles" for comms). that's so much healing 135x(every teammate in los) with no charge up; but there is travel time. it'd negate a lot of damage from zarya ult, sigma ult, orisa ult, etc. like suzu, but more healing and no immorality frames. and on the flipside, sigma ult + pulsar torpedoes just kills most characters max health without healing? then also consider that juno probably bursts the enemies with her primary fire too. still worse than suzu/lamp; ana nade negates it, but it'll be harder to bait out than suzu/nade.

75(missiles) + 50(grav initial burst damage) + 125(most characters have 250 health and sigma ult does 50% on impact) = 250(this will kill).

basically most of the tank ults that cluster/stun characters are going to have great synergy with missiles. like orisa ult can be released earlier with 75 chip on everyone.

she has so little survivability from dive imo. tracer tries to one-clip her and then what (sombra hacks/virus her and she's so dead uh oh)? most of the support roster has ways to get out or abilities that work on themselves to leverage the duel in their favour (suzu, immortality field, moira orb, lifeweaver dash, etc). juno does not have that, double jumping slightly higher in the air doesn't count -- i will be diving her.

gun feels like worse baptise without headshot ability, but she can heal fliers so that's a plus.

ult looks soo good. it's just a better mercy/lifeweaver/(maybe baptise) ult, no?

speed ring will be nice for rein, the healing output will also be nice because lucio doesn't really have that right now. i can see juno replacing lucio for the rein/lucio synergy -- except juno is way easier to kill than lucio.

i won't be playing the week of juno's release. i don't like people griefing in comp with a character they don't know how to play, i'll just wait until the meta has settled and read up about it before returning to the game.

okay maybe a little bit of dps. i really think widowmaker will have a field day with her. i mean??? no vertical adjustment in glide?? easy headshots probably.

end note; ok i was really scared of juno replacing kiriko, but she's okay. i think kiriko beats her at doing almost everything except easier damage from primary fire and pulsar torpedoes damage output to follow up on ults.

[fandomfindings]

Cold

Pairings: (Embry Call x  Reader) 

Word Count: 1.3K

Warning(s): N/A

Summary: An Embry Call imagine where antics by Paul mixed with a cold day at the beach causes you to fall ill and the only thing that can make you feel better is the warmth of your boyfriend.

----------

"So you guys don't think I can take on Jacob and Seth at the same time?" Embry questioned, almost baffled from his seat between your legs. You were sat on a long-forgotten tree log next to your friend Jared with his girlfriend sat comfortably in his lap.

"No!" shouted the majority of the group, causing those who didn't comment on the matter to laugh, including yourself.

You and your group of friends, the wolf pack, often found yourselves on the cold shores of La Push. It was a quiet place for all of you to hang out, especially during the winter months, because no one in their right minds would visit the beach during this time of year.

You all found it nice that you could come here to relax and act their age in the shifters' case, for they were all pretty young —no need to worry about patrolling or anything of the like, just fun, friends, and waves.

"I think you could do it, Em," You objected, pushing your fingers through his short hair. Though you weren't sure if he actually could, you tried your best to be supportive, even if that meant a few white lies.

"Thanks, babe," smiled Embry, craning his head up to give you a quick peck on the lips.

"Get a room, you lovebirds," Paul complained from his spot across from you and Embry after the display of affection. Rachel shook her head, knowing just how hypocritical her boyfriend was being. He was quick to kiss her just like Embry had done to you.

"What does that make you and Rachel roommates?" You jokingly questioned, looking between your friend and his girlfriend, who you also considered a friend.

"If you want to call it that sure," Paul shrugged before chucking a small seashell in your direction, ensuring not to hit you, though.

"You're not funny," You huffed, picking up a seashell as well and throwing it. Unfortunately, your aim wasn't as precise as Paul's, for the small shell hit his bicep before falling to the sand below.

He looked down at his arm. Of course, it didn't hurt, but Paul being Paul, wasn't going to let the accident slide.

"Oh yeah?"

"Knock it off, you two," commented Sam, conscious of how childish you two get around one another, for it was the nature of your long-term friendship. Unfortunately, his request fell onto stubborn ears, for you responded without a care in the world.

"Yeah."

"I'll show you funny. Come here!" Paul shouted, quickly removing himself from his place in the sand against another rotting log.

Not having much time to respond, you jump up as well, having no regard for the safety of Embry's head that was previously supported by you.

You tried to keep your distance from the idiot, but that quickly failed, for he had several not so human advantages over you. Even if he wasn't a shifter, you were sure it wouldn't have taken him long to reach you.

Once Paul reached you, he grabbed you, placing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You couldn't quite see where he was taking you, but you had a sneaking suspicion once the sand went from a light gray to a darker shade from the water that previously hit it.

Slight panic began to arise within you, and you began to smack at Paul's lower back and butt. "Paul put me down. I mean it!"

"Whatever you say," Paul said sweetly, not hesitating to drop you in the water below. You now wished you had chosen better words for your requested release. Though you were sure, it would've ended in a similar if not the same result.

You emerged from the waves, already feeling the chilling air against your face and body despite the layers of clothing that formerly warmed you.

Once to your feet, you made your way to Paul. Not skipping a beat, you pushed him into the water, soaking his previously semi-dry clothing.

"Aw, come on (Y/N)," Paul said playfully once he resurfaced. You could hear the smile on his face.

"Again, you're not funny," You remarked, leaving your friend in the frosty sea as you made your way back to shore.

Once there, Embry caught your eyes. He jogged up to you with a bright smile on his face. "Aw, baby," He said, grabbing your arm to bring you in for a hug in an attempt to warm you.

"Don't baby me. You didn't help," You said, removing your arm from Embry's grasp. "I'm going to change," You huffed, trudging past your boyfriend and to your car where you thankfully had towels and spare clothing. You weren't truly upset. Just a bit annoyed that you now had to change and, of course, you were now cold.

"Need some help?" Embry offered with a cheeky smirk on his face.

You were sleeping comfortably, at least as comfortable as one could with a stuffy nose and frequent coughing fits. In short, you were under the weather. No surprise there, considering you were thrown into the ocean in the dead of winter a day ago.

"No!"

----------

In your half-unconscious state, you heard loud shuffling outside. You ignored it at first, presuming it was some form of animal minding their own business. But that thought became increasingly slim as the noise got closer to your window. Even more so when your window began to slide open from the force of human hands.

Though you were a bit out of it, your fight or flight kicked in. You quickly got out of bed and grabbed for a baseball bat you had in your room for these very situations.

"Who's there? I have a bat and a boyfriend who will beat your ass!" You tried to threaten despite the raspiness in your voice. As you did so, you angled the bat high, ready to swing if need be.

"You think I can take him?"

"Em? What are you doing here?" You questioned, distinguishing the voice as your boyfriend's. You lowered your bat, realizing you were no longer in danger.

"You weren't answering my text," He replied plainly, flopping onto your mess of a bed.

"So you climb through my window?" You wondered, returning the bat to its rightful place in the process.

"Uh yeah." He again replied simply. "Why weren't you answering?" Embry probed after taking your phone in his hands and noticing it was fully charged with his abundance of messages on full display.

"If you can't tell, I'm sick," You responded, outstretching your arms to showcase your disheveled appearance. "I can barely keep my eyes open."

Embry reached out to take your hands, bringing you closer to his body and, therefore, its natural heat. "You're freezing!"

"Yeah, thanks to your friend," You said, obviously referring to Paul and his yesterday antics at the beach.

"My friend? The last time I checked, you've known him longer," Embry countered, rubbing his thumbs over the back of your cold hands.

"Well, I don't claim him when he annoys me," You replied but honestly, if that were the case, you would never truly claim Paul, for he was continually annoying you. That's how you two showed your love for each other.

"Come here," Embry chuckled, bringing you down in a full embrace.

You struggled against his hold briefly, "No, I don't want you to get sick."

Embry stopped, looking at you as if you had said the dumbest thing in the world. "Seriously."

That word alone was enough convincing that you wouldn't get him sick. You knew he had heightened abilities, but you weren't sure if that translated to his immune system as well.

"Fine."

You two stayed huddled together for who knows how long. The increased yet steady beat of Embry's heart and the warmth that he naturally radiated lulled you in and out of sleep. Embry noticed every time you woke up, hearing the change in your heartbeat.

"Feeling any better?" Embry asked, noticing you had awoken briefly once again.

"Much," You answered."Tell Paul he owes me soup," You added lowly, snuggling deeper into Embry's chest.

"Will do, baby."

----------

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading this imagine as mush as I enjoyed writing it. Returned to my roots a bit for this one considering I haven’t wrote for Twilight in a while. Check out another Embry imagine I wrote here, it’s called Explaining To Do. Feel free to let me know what you guys think!

Lots of Love <3

[dreaming-twist]

2. WEB

Some random oneshot for TwstOBer ~ Enjoy please xD

“Sebek, you need to find some other hobby. Do you want to try playing with my PC?”

“Human inventions that have nothing to do with magic? Hmpf! Sounds disappointing.”

“Well, well, at least give it a try, okay? It maybe surprises you.”

“... If you say so, Lilia-sama...”

That was how it all began. A simple proposal from Lilia had been his first and until now last contact with that world. And he still didn't know how he had gotten to the point where he was right now.

That day, in Lilia's PC, he found a program on the web that caught his attention. "Pass on your thoughts or knowledge!" It said. Sebek arched an eyebrow, and ended up creating an account outnof curiosuty with the first nickname that came to mind (Best Bolt) until he came across a recording function. Then he realized what this must be.

“I understand. It should be something like a journal, but instead of writing it by hand, you speak directly to it. Interesting invention, not bad for humans...”

And then, after clearing his throat and hitting the 'Record' button, he began to speak.

“... Hello? ... I don't know how this works, but I will try to adapt. This is my first time using one of these... inventions. It's interesting, but... Hm? Wait, why is there a light that is blinking on the side? Okay... I'll try to fix it. I don't know how the recording is turned off...”

Sebek began to investigate what happened to the computer, and in that time he wasn't seeing suddenly the counter of 0 that appeared on the side of the recording screen went up to 1, then to 2, and thus it began to rise. increasingly.

Once he finally fixed it, he returned to his starting position.

“Done. It was not a problem for me. What could I talk about today... Huh?”

As he was thinking, he suddenly saw an alert glow red on the screen, next to a speech bubble. Sebek brought the mouse to it and opened it, finding the words: "You can talk about anything you want."

“I understand. It even gives you suggestions... What a useful program... I'll talk a bit about myself in that case.” Despite this, Sebek decided not to speak the names of anyone he named... for his own sake. He didn't want to be embarrassed later if he listened to his own diary... “Right now I don't live with my family, so to speak. It's not that I get on badly with them at all; I went away to study and to fulfill my duties and my work. So now I'm living somewhere else, surrounded by... ahem, people. However, the ones I am closest to are... the family of a person I have known since childhood.”

He leaned back in the chair.

“One of them treats me almost as if I were his son, and sometimes I think he cares too much about me and pampers me too much. He has taught me so many things, and I feel that every day I learn a little more from him. I respect him a lot... although he sometimes takes advantage of me and plays practical jokes on me. I don't know if he wants me to feel comfortable and enjoy all of this despite being away from my family... or he just wants to play with me. He left me all this... equipment to test it and 'have fun'. Hum. I think once again he was right. His advice is always helpful.”

He made a mental note that he should thank Lilia.

“And then there is... the one who is the only person my age who has always been by my side. He is a very decisive... person, and too calm, I'll say. That is what makes him fail so much in many things. However... he is the person I have been with the most since children, and despite his failures and the fact that we argue so many times... he is very important to me. We do not consider ourselves nor have we called ourselves 'friends' before, rather it is that in addition to being one of the same rank as me, he is my rival and someone I like to continually surpass. I think he may feel the same way.”

For some reason he was saying things that surprised even him. He had never spoken so openly about Silver. How was this happening? Was he so comfortable talking to himself...?

“And there is someone else, who is who I am doing all this for and for whom I strive every day. He is the most incredible being I have ever met. Always correct, with the greatest power I have ever seen, diligent, perfect... It is directly my reason for being, I am SURE of it. I want to become stronger for him and be by his side to serve him whenever he needs me. I'm lucky that someone like him recognized my worth. He is my role model... Although...”

He bit his lip.

“... I think I'm not good enough to help him, protect him, and still be worthy. But I will be. Not because I started showing results later than others am I going to give up. That is something I am not going to do. I want to make the world see that I can become the best in my course... No; the best ever. And prove that he was not wrong with me. It doesn't matter where you come from, whose son you are, or if your power came to light sooner or later... WHAT REALLY MATTERS IS YOUR PASSION, AND STRIVE EVERY DAY TO KEEP WALKING!”

After blurting that out with a big smile and clenched fists, he soon realized that he had lost his composure a bit. He returned to his starting position, clearing his throat.

“... Ahem. For now I feel like I'm on the right track to achieve that goal. The first step is to be the best in my course. Or so I think. The people I... hang out with, from the same course as me are... peculiar. There is one who seems to be pursuing the same goal as me. But he still has a lot left. I notice conviction in his words but I don't see any improvement in his studies. However, he is stronger than I expected at first, and he excels at P.E. There's another... thing who wants to become the best too, but... I'm not even going to talk about him. That one is a lost case. There are two more who instead appear to be quite normal, but one only seems to have an interest in one thing, and the other... honestly, I don't know what to think of him, but he's very strong. And besides the four of them there is a... person who does not seem to want to improve on anything at all. Or rather, he doesn't seem to have an interest in it. But he is not an idiot, rather he seems like one, and I have learned from other sources that when he proposes it to him, he is capable of being the best student in his class. Perhaps he is the most suitable to call him a 'rival' among them. Although as long as he continues to seem so bored of everything that comes his way, there should be no problem... He also shouldn't like me too much. Although he keeps talking to me. He is an interesting guy.”

Sebek then took a breath to talk about the last person he was missing, after talking about Deuce, Grim, Epel, Jack and Ace.

“And lastly there is this… ahem, person, that came along all of a sudden. They doesn't have the capacity to be here, but they somehow got in and we're on the same course. When I learned of their existence, I felt that I had tried very hard to get here, while they had a special ability, although not the one that everyone else possesses, was able to enter without problems. It was unfair. I have ever thought that they were making fun of everyone.” He paused. For some reason, even though he had blurted it out, he didn't feel good about himself... Was that the whole truth...? It was then that he recalled certain moments that he spent with them from then on. “... But they are very clumsy. I feel like I have to be there to hold them if they falls. Studying with them is not unpleasant, they are capable to follow my advice and understand things quickly. I do not dislike those who strive to achieve their goals...”

Another notification appeared on the side of the screen. Sebek stopped speaking, a half smile adorning his face, and looked at the message, taking advantage of the stop in his monologue. Would it be another suggestion from the program...?

“How beautiful is love.”

The boy jumped.

“WHAT?! NO!!” He yelled at the screen, totally flushed. “H-How can a program say these things?! This is a joke?!”

The notifications came out again and Sebek managed to read some.

“Program? What are you talking about man?”

“Hey, there is nothing wrong with you liking someone, I support you!!!”

“Is Story Time over? I was really enjoying listening to you, Best Bolt”

“I have become a fan of yours! Will you talk about more things another day?”

“Your words are very inspiring!♡”

“Best Bolt u r the BEST!”

Sebek began to check the screen, and saw that next to a symbol that represented an eye appeared the number "5000".

5000... eyes?

WERE THERE 5000 PEOPLE LISTENING TO HIM AT THAT TIME ?!

“Hey. Did you listen to Best Bolt the other day on this popular app with podcasts that premier live?” Ace asked, as he ate his burger.

Sebek stopped eating when he heard that.

“No, but I have heard people talk about him to class people. He seemed interesting” Said Epel.

“I had listened to podcasts, but few that talked about personal life... And he spoke so calmly and in such a sincere and focused way... I wish I could do something like that” Deuce commented. Epel smiled at him, he felt the same way.

“I don't know who you're talking about” said Jack confused. (Y/n) and Grim were just like him.

“He cut the recording suddenly the other day, something may have happened to his PC... But hey, if he comes back I'll let you know for sure.”

Sebek ate without saying anything, next to them, who were talking so happily about Best Bolt, until...

“Sebek, youuuu... well, I don't even know why I ask, in Diasomnia you all are very old-fashioned, right? You don't use technology much... except Lilia-senpai.” Ace started to say, looking at him.

Sebek tried to avoid him as best he could.

“HUH?! A-Ah... No, n-no, I don't have interest in that kind of human-made things...”

“Heee... Well, I'll let you know when Best Bolt comes back anyway. Maybe it surprises you.”

“Y-Yes, okay, thank you” He replied, looking away... where he met the watchful gaze of (Y/n), quite close to his face.

“Sebek, are you okay?”

That was the last straw. Sebek quickly rose from his chair.

“PERFECTLY! AND NOW IF YOU ALL EXCUSE ME, I HAVE TO GO SEE HOW THE YOUNG MASTER IS!”

And with that said, the boy ran towards the exit, while everyone else looked at him.

“... Hey now that I think about it, doesn't Best Bolt look a bit like Sebek? That way of speaking, and everything he said...”

“Ha, ha. Good one, Deuce.”

[amethystkarl]

Sunflower Feelings -- Sapnap x f!oc

Hi friends, mcyt fic debut here! This is a fic I am in the progress of writing for a friend, so please bear that in mind if you choose to read. Most aspects have been requested, I just also decided to upload here for feedback and funsies.

If you do read, I hope you enjoy and come back for more when I eventually have it! :D This is essentially Dream and Sapnap Get a Roommate: The Sitcom.

Friendly reminder that of course, this is both purely fictional and loosely based on content uploaded by these creators. Please respect both their and my boundaries by not sending/tagging creators.

prologue.

chapter 1.

chapter 2.

iii. “I’m leaving you love notes in the kitchen.”

Nick has no idea what’s happening in this movie. All he knows is the title, but even that memory is long-gone. Dream, that motherfucker, had decided to sit on the other end of the couch instead of in the middle. With the cats somehow occupying the entirety of the big armchair, Nick is now sharing a blanket with Sarah and concentrating very hard on not moving either one of his hands folded in his lap.

It’s fine across the dining room table, while all the lights are on. It’s fine in the car, he’s just thankful he has someone to run errands with for once. It’s even fine when they converge in the kitchen at ungodly hours of the morning,

*****

Sarah turns her pillow to the cold side for the 3rd time in 40 minutes, and she huffs in annoyance. The glare of her phone screen screws a single eye shut, her phoneless hand flying up as if to shield her eyes from the sun.

She hasn’t been awake for that long; hell, it’s not even sunrise hours yet. The frustrating part, is Sarah had finally gotten to bed after a particularly brutal round of homework, and her lovely sleep was interrupted by Panda’s insistence on making noise regardless of the time of day. She had woken earlier with a start to hear Panda quite frankly, yelling, from his perch atop the closed toilet lid. Sarah curses under her breath before scooping the distraught kitty in her arms, weight immediately settling against the fabric of her enormous t-shirt.

“C’mon dude, you woke me up like half an hour ago,” she whines, walking over to her bed and lowering Panda onto the blankets. He immediately jumps off and pads to the closed bedroom door, starting to meow again.

“Are you seriously begging me for a treat right now?” Panda cocks his head, and Sarah swears this cat understands more English than he probably should. She sighs in resignation, opens the door and snorts as Panda immediately slinks past her legs and trots down the stairs.The kitchen light is already on, and Sarah frowns slightly as she tries to remember if she turned the light off when she closed the blinds earlier.

Nick unknowingly answers her question as he stands hunched over the kitchen counter. Sarah makes sure to step extra loudly onto the tile so she doesn’t sneak up on him, and Nick turns to see her in all her post-studying glory. Sarah gives him a lazy salute and opens the fridge, her bloodshot eyes sliding shut as the cool air hits her face. Nick wordlessly hands her a spoon and holds up the half-eaten container of Cherry Garcia.

“Thanks.” Sarah tosses her handful of chilled KitKats on the counter, accepting Nick’s offer. She swallows and “mm”s appreciatively, letting the spoon dangle from her mouth as she swipes the jar of peanut butter from the pantry.

“Goodnight,” Nick says, half-smiling as Sarah nods her head in acknowledgement, spoon handle bobbing in time with the bun swept on top of her head.

*****

Nick barely conceals a jump as Sarah’s thigh presses into his. She’s settled into her corner of the couch, blanket bunched up to support her head against the arm. He’s jealous of her ability to relax, ability to touch him without overthinking it.\

He doesn’t even realize his phone has vibrated against his leg until Dream’s toe jabs his other thigh, the blonde man giving him a pointed eyebrow raise. Sarah is too invested in the movie to notice, pose casual, but eyes bright as the screen flickers colors across her face. He unclasps his prayer hands, taking care to remove his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants with as little movement as possible.

McDreamie: you look insane, wtf are you doing with your hands?

Nick pockets his phone, making a point of not looking at Dream as he lets his hands relax in his lap. He feels awkward just letting them sit there like wet noodles though, so he places his hands palm-down on his thighs. Which was fine, until he started rubbing his pants up and down as a nervous habit, earning another toe-poke from Dream. He’s kind of flailing, mentally, and breathes an almost audible sigh of relief as Dream breaks the movie-watching silence that has filled the room until now

“Sapnap, cuddle,” he says simply, splaying his giraffe legs over Nick’s thighs. Nick laughs and jokingly pats Dream’s legs, settling with hands on his roommate’s ankles. Sarah giggles, and Nick looks over, mirroring her smile as she breaks away from the screen.

“Adorable.” Dream makes obnoxious kissing noises in response, and Sarah tosses a stray throw pillow at him. “Never mind, I take it back. You ruin everything.”

“Bitch, I will turn this off.” Sarah’s eyes narrow, and Nick suppresses a laugh as her and Dream lunge for the remote at the same time. Sarah is quicker, and Dream stretches over Nick to try and swipe it from her. She shakes her head and shoves Dream’s face away, palm smushing his cheek and muffling whatever smart-ass thing he was going to say next. Sarah laughs maniacally, turning the movie up to a home-theater level as Dream yells, “give me it,” and Nick has given up on hiding his laughter.

“It’s the last 10 minutes anyways, calm down,” Sarah says, rolling her eyes and turning the TV back down. The cats, spooked by the noise, have fled the living room, leaving the armchair empty.

Now, Nick has had to pee for the last half hour. Not only did he drink a lot of water with dinner, he’s also been nervously sipping an energy drink since the end of dinner, can warm between his thighs. Laughing at Dream and Sarah made it even worse. However, Nick would rather piss his pants than get up from this couch right now.

In the epic battle for the remote, Sarah’s position on the couch has completely changed. Instead of leaning away from him, her knees are resting lightly atop his thighs, and her shoulder is partially pressed into his, partially buried in between 2 couch cushions. Nick feels like he’s forgotten how to breathe, terrified she’ll realize how close she is and move.

Not that her moving is an issue; he isn’t psychotic. It’s more, the “oh, sorry,” she’s sure to throw his way as she moves. It’s the fact that Nick knows he won’t know what to say when that happens. It’s that, even though the words “for what?” could be stamped across the back of his eyelids, he knows he will sit there like a goldfish. Mouth opening as closing as his brain grinds to a halt, the way it always does when Sarah’s around. Living with Sarah is somehow the worst and also best thing that has happened to him lately. Worst, because it’s probably not exactly sustainable to have a thing for your roommate.

Best, because she’s not moving. Dream has shoved his toes under Nick’s legs, seeing Sarah’s closeness but still craving attention. He keeps making faces at Nick, and he would be more pissed off at Dream if Sarah weren't so into this movie. The man has never been subtle, and it’s really annoying at times like this.

The end credits start rolling, and Dream immediately starts getting up from the couch, headed to his bedroom to preemptively set up the MCC practice call. Nick waits for Sarah to get up, feeling stupid for missing the warmth of her side as soon as it leaves him. She walks into the kitchen and swipes 2 Red Bulls from the fridge, handing one off to him before cracking the second one open for herself.

“Long night for you too>” Nick asks. Sarah nods as she chugs half the can, finishing with a loud exhale.

“I have an exam tomorrow, so I’m cramming. Have fun with your blocks and boys.” Nick laughs as Sarah gives a lazy peace sign. Panda and Poppy pad behind her, as if they know her room will be the quietest to sleep in tonight.

*****

“George, I am begging you to shut the fuck up for 2 sec-”

Dream’s sentence is interrupted by another inhuman scream from George, and Nick laughs even harder, still giggling at the last ridiculous noise from his British friend. Nick screams, partially to add to the chaos, and partially because he just nailed this Ace Race map. He doesn’t even notice his phone lighting up in his slap-happy, 4:00AM chaos.

“He’s popping off, your honor,” Karl chimes in, over-the-top British accent just encouraging George’s boisterous laughter and Nick’s rise in volume. He’s so wrapped up in raining on Dream’s grumpy parade that he doesn’t hear his bedroom door open. Nick yelps in surprise as a hand touches his shoulder.

He slides his headphones around his neck and swivels his chair, eyes immediately locating the source of the hand. Sarah is standing in his room, eyes half-open, shirt pressed into weird wrinkles from the folds of the sheets. He’s suddenly very thankful he stopped streaming about an hour ago, facecam long turned off.

“It is 4 o’clock in the morning and I have class in 6 hours. Please, dude.” Nick’s stomach drops as he realizes just how loud he must have been. Him and Sarah share a wall between their bedrooms, but he has some pretty good soundproofing on his walls; him and Dream both decided to invest once they knew they’d be getting a roommate.

“I’m so sorry Sarah, I--” Sarah holds a hand up, and Nick immediately closes his mouth, terrified.

“It’s fine, I am just too tired to have a full-on conversation right now. Goodnight.” Sarah turns and shuffles out of the room, softly closing the door behind her. Nick is frozen in his chair, shame rooting him to the spot. He knows Sarah probably isn’t mad, he does. But he can still feel the guilt twisting his stomach in knots, anxious warmth flooding his fingertips.

“. . .everything good over there, Sapnap?” Nick’s bones well and truly lock up as Karl’s voice hesitantly floats up from his still-abandoned headphones.

He never fucking muted in Discord.

Nick’s next thought is, thank fuck for Dream, as his roommate wheezes into his microphone at some ridiculous meme George probably sent him. Karl quickly abandons his question in favor of some shared joke, and Nick steals the moment to breathe and take a look at his phone.

Sarah :): hey can u keep it down pls & thank u - Delivered at 3:47

Sarah :): nick I’m srs I have my 10am tom - Delivered at 3:59

Sarah :): nick - Delivered at 4:14

Nick rubs his face in his hands, and he realizes just how hot his room feels, pausing to pull his sweatshirt over his head, shaking out both his hair and the guilty feelings for tonight.

You’ll talk to her tomorrow, and it’s gonna be fine, he thinks, sliding his headphones back into place. The other 3 have moved on to arguing about who gets what Hogwarts house skin, and Sapnap chimes in carefully, taking care not to yell or even really raise his voice at all. He says his goodnights about an hour later and goes to bed, fully knowing he’ll miss Sarah in the morning.

*****

As he suspects, he wakes up around 12:30. Nick yawns and gets out of bed, physically cringing as he recalls what happened between him and Sarah last night. He trudges downstairs, resigning himself to a poptart for. . . brunch? He opens the fridge to find an apple or something with a hint of nutritional value, and grins once he sees the middle shelf.

In Sarah’s handwriting, there’s a sticky note with “Nick :D” stuck onto a small tupperware. He smiles and cracks the lid, the smell of fajita vegetables and breakfast sausage filing his nostrils. On the counter, the coffee pot is pulled from the counter, and upon an experimental lift, Nick finds it still half-full.

He still decides to go out and buy a case of Sarah’s favorite energy drink and a new bag of KitKats as an apology for the night before. He leaves them outside her bedroom door, taking note of the “Working!” message on her whiteboard she attached there last week. He decides to use the same sticky note from his omelet fillings, flipping it over to write “Sarah” on the back, drawing a haphazard little flower with his red sharpie instead of a smiley face.

Chapter title cred: Lucky People by Waterparks

[tenderlyrenjun]

[1010 A.D.]

“Do you believe in soul mates?” you ask, lackadaisically, dreamily, while readjusting the ceramic pillow beneath a new fabric cover that your loved one retrieved from his latest bureaucratic outing. It is nice to have him back (and the new gifts, too, adorn your villa delightfully, even the ones hidden here in your bedroom, from wandering eyes). Outside your personal chambers, the scholars gather with you, compelled against their will, to indulge your curiosities, and particular student, who you seized from a recently constructed university, revived The Red String of Fate folklore under a new alias: soul mates. You want to hear Renjun’s thoughts on the term, if has has even heard it in passing.

“What are ‘soul mates’?” 

Renjun rolls over in the bed, just as you lift the sheet to join him. Honestly, thank Heaven that your immortal self only requires one night of sleep a month. Leaving your estate unguarded for 8-12 hours of the day is dangerous. Although, months ago, the battlefields healed from the successive, rapid kingdoms popping up every couple of decades. Welcomed peace spreads alongside the rise of education, which is why you and Renjun returned to his home country. Physically seeing a Golden Era circulate the continent gave you two more confidence to re-establish your roots. With your entire coven massacred from rebellions caused by overly ambition vampires and their newborn parasites, the Huang lineage has to counterbalance for the lost political ties and social standing. Fortunately, Renjun’s good looks and charm (and compulsion ability) persuade even the most corrupt aristocrats - which is why he, rather than you, leaves the land every few weeks to reinforce those alliances.

Plus, he does it better: the dirty work. 

You prefer to look at the pretty daggers he brings home and to drink red, warm elixirs poured into pretty bronze jia. Still, you admire his insignia ring on your finger during his extended business hours, counting down the seconds until you have him again. The staff are not as nearly interesting as your lover, especially considering how they gossip with you around the corner. Some call you too bold to manage the house; others say you simply lack manners, faulting Renjun for choosing a mate who was not born of noble status (a mere rumor that you take care of, anytime it emerges). Perhaps, that is why you take solace amongst the scholars, practicing calligraphy and expanding your vocabulary, instead of Confucian traditions. At least it gives you something to talk about with your equal, before you two begin recruiting members again - a lone vampire, in possession of a shielding ability, seems promising (and beneficial, in case of another war). So you slide into bed too, pulling his arm under your neck and extendings your similarly, to support his head while you curl into his side, answering his question:

“The sages call them destined.”

Renjun laughs, throwing his head back onto the comforter. He strokes your shoulder with his thumb, bringing the silk material off your skin, and turns to you with a smile that makes his presence natural and bright. Vampire nature is ectothermic and the beds are uncomfortable (how fleshlings survive them daily, you will never understand, not entirely able to recall your own mortality from centuries ago), but Renjun lives up to his name, enveloping you in a sense of reassurance, especially with how his voice melodizes. His opposite arm comes around, caging in you toward his chest so he can remove the strand of hair covering your eyes.

“I thought they were called ‘Soul Mates’,” Renjun counters. After giving you his signature tender smile, he nuzzles his face in your neck, pressing down a soft kiss. The way he lingers makes you roll your face to the window on the ceiling, North Star glowing a little weaker through the glass, now that he is home, holding you. 

You sigh, contently, hearing it returned, ghosting over your collarbone. “They are, but Soul Mates are supposed to be people who are ideally matched together.” You glance at Renjun, hoping to scan his face for another reaction, but his eyes are closed, lips relaxed, cheek losing control to stay upright: he is falling asleep. And you almost let him, knowing how exhausted he probably is, from all the politics, the new studies, the art and literature. He is participating in so much that he will likely sleep for more than 12-hours this month. Unfortunately, you want him to answer this one question, and over the centuries, since his biggest promise, he always swears to give you whatever your heart desires. So, you prod his beautiful face, physically asking for an response. 

“Mmm,” he whines, the hypnosis faltering enough for him to give you one, though his tired state answers your question with a question - you barely hear him, as he mumbles without opening his mouth too widely. He licks his lips, adding another brief love bite to your collar’s collection, before repeating himself louder, enunciating. “Are you asking if I believe that we are soul mates?” You think that he will indulge your new philosophies, using his statement as a thesis question, but he rolls his cheek further on your chest, tiger hugging your upper body. “Maybe,” he says. It should send worry through your body, were you a new couple, like Doyoung, the now-rather ruthless law enforcer of the Kim family. But you and Renjun have been together for half a millennia at this point, none of the passion ever slowing down. “I don’t believe in soul mates,” he confesses, slugging his words, “but we are naturally perfect together.”

The answer is good enough for you, so you brush back his bangs and kiss the crown of his head. He sighs again, squeezing you into the bed frame. This is how you allow yourself to fall asleep with him: no threats to your country, no threats to your safety, no threats to your relationship.

But ten hours later, you wake up to an empty bed, your lover making quiet noises in the next room over.

So, you go meet him, thinking that he has started brewing an early morning pot of tea, meticulously straining blood in a way that you do not understand. It is nice to just watch him cut lemons, slice ginger, arrange bits of flesh with almonds for garnish. And on the rare occasions, when birds are still writing songs on the rays of sunlight, you try to meet him in the tea room, almost falling asleep on his back all over again because the ambience is so soothing. 

Except, you find Renjun hovering over jewellery in your shared walk-in closet, muttering decisions here and there about packing. An odd decision, truly, considering that you have staff rotating hourly. He only does this during surprises. And you sometimes enjoy his spontaneity. So you quietly relax against the door frame, arms crossed and an amused smile on your lips. In the mornings, each time, after he gets back, even without doing anything that might shame the Moon and Stars (before you disappoint Her counterpart, the Sun and Skies), you feel drunk in love, despite having an empty stomach.

“Where are you going?” you whisper, voice yawning the verbs.

Unexpectedly, Renjun jolts, visibly surprised and shifty, then he turns around. And your expression changes with him. Your eyes dart across his face, scanning through his forehead lines to eyes. You hesitate, always glancing back to his eyes, as a precaution in case he might say something reassuring, but he remains frozen, guarded in front of a backpack that you cannot miss.

To reiterate, you sometimes love his spontaneity.

“I’ll be gone for a few years,” he says, slowly returning to the bag, tossing in extra pieces. He contemplates adding a beautiful necklace on display - the one he had handmade for you during the Jade Era, but he shakes his head. No, he has to leave that for you. This break, his packing, does not equate to all the times when he leaves his insignia for you to wear. Renjun looks at his ring, having taken it back the moment he arrived, when you slipped it onto his hand, like a proposal of your own, even kissing his knuckles tenderly. He sighs; the necklace was a promise, and he will come back to you, after he does what he needs to do. And he really needs to do this. Renjun shakes his head, to correct himself, “A couple decades.”

You frown and your eye twitches. “What?” Realization hits you like a moving carriage, horses trampling over your regenerative rib cage. Renjun walks up to you, one hand balled into a fist and the other carrying his bag. You glance at his hands, unable to truly believe his face, and he passes off his insignia. “Tell me where you’re going.” Your voice cracks. “Please.” You can join him - now or in a few days, if he needs space. Although he was gone for a couple months, you can give him more, give him anything, as long as it doesn’t mean what you think it means. “Because we just talked about Soul Mates last night.”

Renjun slouches, opening his arms to give you a goodbye. “Love -”

“Don’t,” you hiss, sustaining red revived eyes at him - a particularly onyx color surges the veins, something Renjun has never seen in a vampire. “Don’t call me that while you are abandoning me.” His timeframe leaps out at you, the expectancy of a human, and you bite again, anxiety manifesting defensively into frustration. “For a mortal, abandoning our promises.” You point an accusatory finger at him, causing him to step back. “We stood before the Heavens and Skies and gave ourselves to each other by side of the Moon and Stars.” Every enunciated syllable pushes him further into your house, until he drops the bag, a shattering sound aiding the action.  “You belong to me. I belong to you.”

You find the valor to look at him, eyes shining a vibrant red, and you think, just for a second, that he might give in, but when you try to deescalate the situation, thinking that this is just a lapse in his judgement, that you have a chance to make him stay, he speeds out of your arms. That is so unlike last night. And as you relive the memory, you realize that it might have been a goodbye. He had the opportunity to leave and not return, then chose to come back. 

Renjun gingerly steps forward, tucking a hair behind your ear sympathetically, pityingly. “No one belongs to someone else.” It is why you pay your servants, generously. “People are free agents.” He glances at your eyes for the last time, picking up his backpack. “I’m sorry.”

And thirty years later, a decade extra than he intended, Renjun reiterates that plea, in a different context, after his medicinal elixir expired. 

“I’m sorry,” he pleas, imploring you with tears pricking his ducts. He can barely see you seated, alone, on a throne, now that the last remaining valet has been dismissed. Renjun drops his bag, walking toward you with intention, pulling your quiescent face into a series of kisses. When you start moving your arms, he thinks that you concede and slows his lips to give you more dominance. You curl your fingers around his palm, a familiar gesture he has missed - mortals no longer give these types of sweet touches. Renjun comes back down to his heels, having edged to the tip toes in excitement, waiting for your embrace.

But you throw his hand off your cheek.

“Get out.”

“What?”

You know that he picked up your request easily, with his super hearing. Yet he asks you to repeat it anyways. Being amongst humans for so long mush have diminished his powers. You so desperately want to ask how he has been. How he has been excusing his eternal youth? Why has no one heard from him, not even Sicheng? Has he been drinking? You lost sleep over all the questions, for years. Vampires may only need half a day per month, debunking the coffin myth, but you have not fully rested in years. So, you repeat yourself, not bothering to glance at him as you walk away to the throne, back turned to him. “Get out of my manor.” You pick up a dagger, soaking it deeply in a jar full of your special poison. “I will not repeat myself again. If you are not gone by my next meeting -”  An execution. “- you will be my next meeting.”

“Please,” Renjun begs. He has lost too much today. 

The antechamber opens, your newest guard, Xiaojun, signalling your attention. So many vampires live in Renjun’s home, his former home. He knows that power naturally follows the ruthless, in this era, with covens and loners trying to gain ties after seeing displays of authority - either to have your killing machine skills used in their favors or to stay in your favor, avoid being slaughtered. And as you leave with Xiaojun, another two vampire guards drag a muzzled traitor to the throne room. Muffled prayers escalate his headache and he nearly exterminates the vermin himself, but you reenter the room and your prisoner shuts up, the end near. 

You throw a dagger beside Renjun’s thigh. The poison you laced it with seeping into the floor, like a tea. While you have yet to singularly perfect the warm beverage, your venom has been shown incurable - a result you feel most proud in. And you burn the bodies before other covens get the chance to examine your work. No one but your shield needs to know that the poison is brewed from the blood of mortals with incurable illnesses: carcinogenesis, dystrophy, haemophilia, etc. Renjun has heard about your cruelty in the last few years, accumulating your dossier before returned home. Rumors circulate the taverns he worked in, spilling story after story about the monster on Oma Mountain between two warring kingdoms where people kept going missing. The immortal community says that you expect loyalty but want none of it, letting vampires reside in your villa lawlessly. Renjun starts to see the origin, especiallly after you rip out your prisoner’s vocal chords, burning it on steel wool and a high molar acid, before it can reattach and function again. He never truly saw you torture anyone, always ending their executions quickly and quietly. This is his fault. Now, you sadistically entertain their pleas for mercy, waiting for them to beg with everything you leave. 

Renjun lets the choking garble for a few seconds more, then severs the head - all while staring at you. You glare at him, daring him to leave one more time.

“Do you want me to rip out your vocal chords too?”

[tipsydipsydo]

BTS Make out-Songs🎶 [Hyung Line]

Hey my Dears!💜

I have a new Scenario for you! It's about my Ideas what BTS favourite Make Out/Sex Songs could be~🙈

Originally I wanted to post the scenarios of all member in one post but then I realized I wrote waaay to much for each member so I split the post in two parts (The Hyung Line and the Maknae Line are sepereated now)

This here is the Hyung Line (yeah I know you read it already in the title xD)

The link to the Maknae Line Scenario can be found here.

A little thing: Some scenarios of the members are written more in the "Scenario Style" and some are more in the "Fanfic Style" but I hope you'll like all of them! 💜

I tried to include some verses of the specific song into the fic when I thought it'll fit the specific situation very well.

I'll write the song titles (links seems to not working out actually) for their songs into the scenario right after the moodboard of the member. And I think it could be helpful for you when you listen to the song while reading to get better "into the mood" you know😉

Information: The link to my Masterlist can be found at the end of the scenario! 📝 

Gender of the reader: female

Then... there is nothing more left to say and I hope you'll enjoy it! 

「© tipsydipsydo」

This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

Jin

Sacrifice by Black Atlass and Jessie Reyez

You hum to the sensual melody of "Sacrifice" that comes out of the boxes of the small CD-Player that stands on the windowsill as you wash the plates and bowls from dinner in front of the kitchen sink.

Jin is standing next to you with a dishtowel and is actually waiting for the next plate to dry. However, he looks at you closely and fascinated how you dance to the beat of the music, feel it and move sensually to it... well, as possible it is in front of the sink.

Slowly he walks behind you, hugs you halfway as he grabs your forearms and gently pulls them out of the dishwater, then dries them off with the towel for the hands. You look confused over your shoulder up to him because you're not finished yet with all the dirty dishes.

"Jin, we're still not finish-"

"Darling, don't you want to dance a little bit to the song? You move your body so sensually to the beat...", he whispers gently into your ear. You notice how his voice drops a few octaves lower and the way he shows you that he feels the song in his body in the same way as you are already doing. Sensual and passionate.

Before you can answer him, he has already turned you to him, smile tenderly and he puts your hands on the back of his neck. You interlace your fingers on the back of his neck and sigh with a smile and shake your head. You're still wondering how can he get you always to come around.

He places his hands on your waist and after a few clumsy steps you fall into the step routine of the Viennese Waltz. Slowly and thoughtful you slow dance to the music.

You gently begin to fondle the hair on the back of his neck and sing along with the song, giving Jin here and there a small seductive wink or an irresistible look. A small smirk plays around the corner of your lips.

You know I don't play it safe

Sometimes you have to break the rules

Yeah, we could call it love, or we could call it nothing

But you got what I want, so baby, give me something

Yeah, we could call it love, or we could call it nothing

But you got what I want, you know I do, too

Jin joins in with his wonderful voice in your singing. Now you sing the song together, for each other. Just like Black Atlass and Jessie Reyez do it in their song.

Jin's hands move slowly from your waist down to your hips until he finally places them onto your ass and Jin squeezes it gently and massages his palms over your, in his opinion perfectly round ass cheeks. You pleasurably roll your eyes and a small sigh come from your lips.

The song slowly comes to his end and as the last soft notes fades away a shaky groan escapes Jin's mouth.

"Fuck, you drive me insane, Darling!"

His breathing becomes heavy and you can't help it but notice how his erection in his jeans grew harder with every beat and how Jin reacted to your seductive sight.

But you get pulled out of your thoughts when Jin reaches under your chin and kisses you deeply and passionately. His soft lips are addictive for you and you want more, more and even more. Your kiss becomes with every second a little bit less controlled and Jin quickly lies his hand back onto your ass, picks you up and puts you on the kitchen counter so that you're both at the same eye level with each other.

"God Baby... what are you doing to me? Why are you so fucking sensual and sexy and know immediately how to use all of this as a weapon against me?", Jin gasps and fiddles impatiently around with the button and zipper of your pants.

A little giggle comes over your lips, finds Jin's impatience to finally take off your pants adorable but at the same time your own anticipation increases to infinity.

You support yourself to help him to free your body of this annoying fabric. Your plan is interrupted again and again by greedy kisses, your lips simply cannot be without each other.

"Thank God I cleaned the countertop right after cooking... then we don't have to go into the bedroom anymore so I can spoil you here... just look how wet you already are... all this just for me.", he purrs into your ear and lets his long index and middlefinger slides between your folds.

"What are you doing to me, Love? To see your body dancing to this song is a pure sin..."

You giggle, which turns ultimately into a sweet moan.

Namjoon

The SoMo Medley by SoMo

Let's keep one thing in mind: Namjoon always makes you feel loved and respected, no matter how kinky and dirty your sex will be. In my opinion, he has the sensational ability to combine pure filthy lust with irrefutable love, so that you both can bring your dirty fantasies to life without feeling "used" (in a negative way) from each other.

No matter what kind of sex, whether you take your time and make love to each other, or whether Namjoon fucks you as if his pure primal sexual needs has to be satisfied, he always makes sure that you know that he loves, appreciates and respects you. That you're on the same level with him.

So I think the SoMo Medley is a wonderful representation of this combination of sexual desire and deep love and passion.

Tonight I wanna show off

Come on baby, take your clothes off

We can keep on bumpin' and grindin' and lovin' so wildly

You know I wanna show off

Tonight I wanna show off, baby let me show off

I'm gon' take your legs up and wrap them and squeeze it then smack it

You know I wanna show off

Yeah, you like it when I slap your ass

Take it all, I'mma go deep

Keep it so sweet, one night to make it last

She's close, I'm about to wrap

She can't open up her eyes

I'm driving deep and her body's so weak

And I can't let go

And we can make love or we can just fuck

We can get romantic, dirty dancing

Feel my hands until the sun comes up

When I hear this song, I have the imagination of Namjoon coming home from work in his studio late at night and wanting nothing more than to see you and close you in his arms.

You were just about to fall asleep when you hear the key in the lock on the front door and hear the rustle of jackets in the hallway shortly afterwards. You quickly sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed to greet your fiance in the hallway.

And now you stand there, dressed in nothing more than a long white T-Shirt from Namjoon, which you like to use as a nightgown and a red pair of cotton panties which has an also red lacey border. On the inside of your thighs he sees the gradually faded Lovemarks, the last one is half covered by your panties. Add this to your messy hair and your cute sleepy facial expression... all of this flips a specific switch in Namjoon.

Everything he had held in his hands before dropped on the spot and he comes over to you, put both of his hands gently on your cheeks. His kiss is slow and deliberate, but as soon as he has touched you, he becomes less and less controlled.

With gentle force he press you against the wall, but doesn't stop to deepen your kiss at all. Breathlessly you let each other down, Namjoon looks into your eyes, his pupils are full of wild lust and irrevocable love.

"Baby, I need you so damn badly right now... I know you have to get up early in the morning... but-"

You already feel his presumably painful erection under his pants clearly on your thigh and you shush your babbling future husband gently with your index finger on his mouth.

"Joonie, please don't think so much... please just fuck my dripping wet pussy deep and hard from behind, okay? Please be rough to me, Baby..." you whisper in his ear and smile cheeky at him. You take his right hand and lead it between your legs.

A deep growl comes from his throat as he feels the damp fabric of your panties on his fingertips. The making-out session didn't leave you without a trace too.

A squeak escapes your lips as Joonie grabs both of your butt cheeks with his large hands and squeezes them firmly before he takes you up so that you can wrap your legs around his waist.

"Don't say these things, you may not be able to walk properly tomorrow... maybe I even want your colleagues to know how well I can fuck you...", Namjoon says as he carries you into the bedroom.

Yoongi

Pray by JRY feat. Rooty

Yoongi is a disaster when it comes to managing his work-life balance. When he has a creative phase and ideas for the next songs of his solo album or for BTS in general, nothing holds him anymore and he literally moves into his studio (he says he saves time with it because the BigHit-Building and his studio are closer together than the studio and your appartement and he always works until late into the night) commutes from this second home, aka his studio, and the building where meetings, sound recordings and practice takes place. And it's been like this for three weeks.

Since then you spend the nights alone in your shared kingsize bed and it has become your ritual to drive to his studio every day in the evening and bring him dinner and fresh clothes, every now and then you took his sleeping bag, with which he sleeps on his sofa, with you to wash it and replace it with another one. Every day you only work towards one thing and that is also the reason why you have been able to spent the last few weeks alone in your apartment without going completely crazy: The little peck he gives you always right at the beginning of your visit.

That's the only thing you get from him in such extreme phases.

You are patient, you know that you shouldn't disturb him and just let him work. But you're still his girlfriend and of course, you are also worried about him, whether he eats enough or sometimes about your relationship. How long you can keep this deprivation of affection and whether -you hardly dare to think of it, but sometimes the little devil in your head talks you into it- but sometimes you also question yourself if you're still loved by him.

Because he just left you out in the cold for weeks and don't seem to care how you feel about it. Especially on days when you visit him after work and when you ask him if he would like to take a break and want to go out together for a little while to eat in a nearby restaurant, only for an hour or so. But then he was pissed as fuck, yelled at you and said that at least some people have to work longer than the majority of the national population.

Not only one time you cried yourself into sleep. But Yoongi knows very well what he's doing and how you feel about it, he is just terribly bad at saying these three specific words.

I love you.

When you come home from work late afternoon as usual, you wonder why the lights are on in the hallway. Did you forget to turn them off this morning? But when you see the familiar pair of sneakers standing on the doormat, your heart makes a jump.

A delicious smell rises from the direction of the kitchen to you. You quickly take your shoes off and throw your handbag in the corner before you quickly follow the scent. You're standing in the doorframe when you see Yoongi's Back, who is standing at the stove and stir-fry steaks in a pan, while vegetables are simmering in the oven as a side dish.

On your seat at the small kitchen table takes a huge bouquet of red roses in a vase his place and seems to wait just for you. Because you're so overwhelmed, you put your hand quickly over your mouth before you squeak and startle Yoongi with your presence.

"I know you're there, love.", Yoongi says with an amused tone in his voice, but doesn't turn around to you.

"Yoongi!"

Yoongi study you attentively while eating, listens to each of your words and a small, satisfied smile plays on his lips when you sigh with pleasure and want to remember every single bite of his delicious dinner. You thank him again and again you for this excellent meal.

"You're welcome, darling. After all, I have to make something up for that what you've been doing for me every single day for the past few weeks... However, I have a small question for you. Some time ago you mentioned that you would like to try out some bondage and sensation play in combination. Is that correct?" A slight blush settles on your cheeks and you nod slowly, biting your lower lip. You remember that you said it when you were in the studio with him, but you thought he wasn't listening to you anyway. Apparently he does. The whole time.

"Come on, let's go to the bedroom..." he says with a small smirk on his lips.

Your breathing is quick, whiny moans comes again and again over your lips, you throw your head back and tug at your bonds, your wrists are tied up with a soft bondage rope over your head.

You lie on the edge of the bed and Yoongi kneels between your gorgeous tights on the floor and have your two legs over his shoulders. You wouldn't know what could be the next step that Yoongi takes, you are blindfolded. Since you're lack this sense, your other senses are even sharper. You are at Yoongi's mercy and all of that here makes your pussy even wetter.

"Yes, Babygirl... pray my Name just like that... God, you are such a good girl for me.", Yoongi gasps against the skin of the inside of your thighs. Then he brings his tongue on the same level with your clit again.

"You are so wet for me and you get even wetter... your pussy is so drenched with all of your arousal, all this delicious sweet juice just for me... I'll clean your glossy folds very carefully, Darling~"

Music is playing softly in the background from the bluetooth music-box on your dresser. Yoongi put your Sex-Playlist on the speaker before you began your Play-Session. Right now, "Pray" by JRY begins to fill the room with a passionate and sensual melody. You didn't know how much more intense this song could make this moment. You can hear Yoongi singing quietly a few verses when he refuses to give you your (actually well deserved!) orgasm again and again. Your begs and moans becomes even whinier, you roll your pelvis forward in such a begging way, hoping that Yoongi will be kind and let you come soon.

"Baby, pray for me ..."

"Oh I pray, I pray!"

"You are my godess and I'm your priest. God, I love you so freaking much... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, my Love. I wish I had never raised my voice against you. I know I don't really deserve your love and patience... But please let me still love you."

Yoongi wispers these words with a little bit broken and trembling voice before he gives you finally your redemption.

Forget the words I'm saying

I know that I've been cruel

I pray for peace

Tell me why don't you

Oh I pray

I know that I've been cruel

Oh I pray

I know that what I do

I've been losing my religion

Making trouble for myself

And these nights are getting longer

You know I just need your help

I keep running for you baby

And it's eating me alive

I'll be dying for you baby

'Till you'll bring me back to life

Hoseok

River by Bishop Briggs

As the light in the large room turn dimmed, all conversations slowly fall silent and a curious calmness of the viewers returns to the dance studio. All eyes of the audience are focused on Sebastian and you.

As the music came up and you both wake up from your rigid position and start dancing together, for Isaac and Hobi start the hell of a ride.

Your conjointly created choreography is sensual and full of sexual power. To the foreign audience you two have to look like a couple who share the same passion for Pole Dance and maybe also gave you through it the possibility to got to know and love each other. What a cute love story...

But Isaac, Hobi, Sebastian and you know it so much better than all the others in this room. Sebastian and you are only dance partners who get along wonderfully and complement each other perfectly in pole dancing. No more, no less.

Even though Hobi has to admit that he was sceptical at first and has his doubts and some jealousies when you told him three month ago completely enthusiastically about the upcoming little show your pole dance class prepare and you are supposed to perform a choreography together with your dance partner Sebastian.

Hobi definitely doesn't want to accuse you for infidelity or anything that actually doesn't happen because he trusts you and he also have to work with females in his job too. Let's just mention Halsey or Becky and everything in their work time together has remained in a professional or just friendly level.

Fortunately this unpleasant jealousy issue was also resolve as quickly as it has come. When Hobi met Sebastian at the BBQ Party of your dance class, he and you had your boyfriends with you.

So your Sweetheart was relieved to discover that his worries we're completely unfounded because Sebastian is more interested in his own gender anyway when it comes to romantic relationships and he's happily devoted to Isaac since two and a half years.

Isaac is also a dancer like all of you but he's more talented in classical slow dancing, where he also have to dance with a female partner, which is why Sebastian could understand Hobi all to well with his former worries and jealousy.

Since then Hobi gets along very well with Sebastian and Isaac, so that you had double dates several times and had so the opportunity to talk and advice each other tips about dancing and everything around that theme.

And now, Isaac and Hobi stand here in the middle of the audience and have to endure your damn hot and sexy performance without being allowed to touch you.

What looks for the audience like an erotic dance of two lovers is for Hobi and Isaac the danced representation of your two relationships. Sebastian and you incoporated some elements of moments that normally placed behind the locked doors of your appartements.

When you jump on Sebastian's hip and sushed him by the verse "Shut your Mouth", Isaac gasps for breath next to Hobi and when he looks at him he notices how Sebastian's Boyfriend is biting his lower lip.

At this sight a little smile plays around the corners of Hobis lips but that fades away as soon as you kneel above Sebastian, forms a revolver out of your hands and give the audience a seductive smile.

In reality you're just looking for Hobis Face and throwing this sexy gaze at him.

"Oh Shit, I think I got a little problem here...", slips from Hobis lips by mistake and he tries to bring, with his hand in his jeans pocket, his painfully hard erection unnoticed into a comfortable position.

"Same, Bro...", cames breathlessly from Isaac.

In the dimmed lights Hobi's eyes wander down to Isaac's lower body half and find the same little problem like his own between Isaac's legs.

Hobi thinks it's a good sign that Isaac and he aren't that different...

Hobi is just looking up again when your choreography comes to an end and loud applause burns up together with enthusiastic whistles. You bow down in thanks for the breathtaking cheers.

Shortly afterwards Sebastian and you make your way through the crowd to your boyfriends and thankfully accepts the water bottles Isaac and Hobi hands you. While drinking, you both notice the intense gaze of your Darlings and how nervously they chew on their lower lips.

Your gaze falls on the lower part of Hobi's body and a teasing smirk manifests on your lips. In the corner of your eye you can see that Isaac is no different than Hobi.

Sebastians and your plan has more than worked out!

"Sebastian, just look at the horny boys we have here~", you wisper with a chuckle to your friend and indicate with your eyes what you exactly mean.

You both smile devilish and shake your head reprovily before you give your boyfriend a sweet kiss on the lips.

"...and when we can go home? This... specific situation is getting really uncomfortable... you know?", Hobi and Isaac murmur almost simultaneously and look at you both with pleading eyes.

"Oh! Didn't we tell you guys that we were the first partner-choreography and now there still five more solos and two partner-choreographys incoming? And Sebastian and I definitely want to stay, after all we have to cheer for your dance class colleagues too!"

Hobis and Isaac's jaw drops and they both almost shouted in a low voice: "Baby, you can't be serious!"

How do you fall in love?

Harder than a bullet could hit you

How do we fall apart?

Faster than a hairpin trigger

Don't you say, don't you say it

Don't say, don't you say it

One breath, it'll just break it

So shut your mouth and run me like a river

[I got this story idea after I watched this amazing performance under the title "River by Bishop Briggs: Pole Pas de Deux" by "Pole Athletica" on YouTube! Please watch it too!]

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[ciestessde]

NOT My Hero Academia: Part 1 – Ch.10

Iida and Uraraka had saved a seat for me, and I took it just as the next match began.

"THE WAIT IS OVER!! MOVING ON… THERE THEY ARE! THE CREAM OF THE CROP!! YET THIS GUY'S SOMEHOW STILL AS PLAIN AS THEY COME!" Todoroki's intense focus was a stark contrast to Sero's relaxed stretching. "HANTA SERO OF THE HERO COURSE! VERSUS… THE BEST OF THE BEST! THE STRONGEST OF THE STRONG! SHOTO TODOROKI, ALSO OF THE HERO COURSE!!" Sero continued to stretch, raising his arms above his head. "START!"

Suddenly, Sero's stretch became an attack -- as tape shot out of his elbows, trapping Todoroki. "HE'S TRYING TO PUSH HIM OUT WITH A SURPRISE ATTACK!! IT'S PROBABLY THE BEST STRATEGY FOR HIM! SERO'S GIVING IT HIS ALL!!" But even more suddenly, even while being flung close to the edge of the arena-

-half of the stadium was covered in ice!

There was a tense, shocked silence for a few moments, before cries of "Good try!" started coming from the stands. "SERO IS IMMOBILIZED!!" 'That's an understatement,' I thought. Then noticed something.

Watching Todoroki thaw Sero out of the ice with his left hand, I couldn't help it. 'Todoroki… seems sad. I wonder why?'

.

It took the staff a few minutes, but eventually… "WITH THE ARENA ALL THAWED OUT, IT'S TIME FOR THE NEXT MATCH!! THE SPARKLING, KILLING BOY FROM THE HERO COURSE! DENKI KAMINARI!!"

I jerked in sudden realization. 'Aw, no! I'M MISSING IT!' Scrambling, I pulled out my U.A. hero notebook. Number Fourteen.

"VERSUS… A PASSIONATE, MANLY FIGHTER AS HARD AS ROCK. ALSO FROM THE HERO COURSE, IT'S EIJIRO KIRISHIMA!" Notebook and pencil now in hand where they belonged, I watched the match intently -- while also trying to catch up with what I'd noticed from the previous match! "START!!"

Kirishima managed to dodge Kaminari's first attack by jumping. But the second one… "Kirishima is down! But…" Midnight announced from the arena, "Kaminari is out of bounds! The winner is Kirishima!"

Murmuring, my writing became frantic. "I thought Kaminari's quirk would be stronger, but Kirishima managed to endure long enough to push him out of the ring. I wonder, was it his hardening? Or was Kaminari holding back so he didn't lose his ability to think?" Uraraka leaned over, glancing at my notebook. "Your match just ended, but you're already thinking ahead, huh." "ACK!" I jumped, snapping out of my murmured analysis.

"Huh?! Nah, I'm just…! Well, you could call this a hobby of mine…" I tried to hide my blush with my hand. It wasn't working. "We finally have the chance to see everyone's quirks in action…" Then I remembered. "Oh! Right." I started flipping through the notebook. "I've got everything you'd need to know about Class A in here. Even your 'Zero Gravity,' Uraraka. And, well…"

Settling on a page, I held it out for her to look at. "You need a counter-strategy for Kacchan. One that works against his quirk. So I thought I'd offer-" "-Deku…" "..." Uraraka had on a polite smile. '…Why does that make my heart hurt?' "… I thought you were amazing since the day we met, but… this Sports Festival… has brought you to a whole other level." '...? What's she…?' "But…" There it was. Her smile was more genuine now, though, as she looked down at the arena. Filled with purpose -- and that fire from when they first announced the Festival. "Everyone here is fighting for their futures! Doesn't that make us all rivals?

"So… That's why I have to say… Thanks, Deku… But…" She turned back to me with a close-eyed smile. "That's okay. I'll see you in the finals!" "MOVING ON… WHO'S NEXT IN THE BATTLE FOR THE TOP?" Sitting next to each other -- after a conversation like that -- was… a little awkward. But… also somehow kinda nice, I thought. "THE FIRST ROUND'S JUST UNDER HALF OVER!! NEXT UP IS TENYA IIDA OF THE HERO COURSE! VERSUS… COVERED HEAD-TO-TOE IN SUPPORT ITEMS… MEI HATSUME OF THE SUPPORT COURSE!" '…! It's that goggles girl!'

There was some conflict over whether Iida using Mei's support items was against the rules or not, which allowed me to catch up with my notes. Eventually, Midnight decided that, since both parties were fine with it, it was okay. But I had to wonder, 'Would that goggles girl -- Mei? -- really share her equipment… to be fair? '…No. I think she's… '

"START!"

And I was right. The match ended up being a ten minute game of tag that doubled as a play-by-play sales pitch of each of Mei's support items. It ended when the jetpack Iida was wearing activated and, combined with the momentum of his running, launched him out-of-bounds. "Iida is out of the ring! And, since there's an uneven number of matchups… Hatsume moves immediately to the third round!!"

I had to admit, Mei's equipment was impressive. 'I should get in touch with her later. See what else she has… I almost wish I'd taken her offer!'

"Iida is just way too serious." Uraraka was on the verge of laughing. "It wasn't hard for her to get him to play her game…" "No kidding. She has a real mind for strategy, huh?" Uraraka got up, suddenly sober. "Right… I'd better get to the prep room." I looked up from my notes, then, to wish her good luck.

I watched her go, wondering what her strategy was against Kacchan. 'Well… there are two more matches before hers.' I turned back to my notes. 'And she's had plenty of time to think, before now. …Yeah. Uraraka can handle herself.'

Mina won her match by damaging Aoyama's belt with her acid (and punching him), and Tokoyami simply overpowered Momo, pushing her out of the ring. I felt only a little sorry for Momo. Tokoyami was an extremely strong opponent in a one-on-one match, admittedly. And he hadn't given Momo much time to use the objects she'd created. But seeing as those objects had, apparently, been a shield and staff…? I didn't like her chances, even if she had been given an opportunity to use them.

Finally… "FOR THE LAST MATCHUP OF THE FIRST ROUND… A CELEBRITY SINCE HIS MIDDLE SCHOOL DAYS, WITH A FACE ONLY A MOTHER COULD LOVE… IT'S KATSUKI BAKUGO OF THE HERO COURSE!! VERSUS… MY PERSONAL PICK!! OCHAKO URARAKA, ALSO OF THE HERO COURSE! START!"

Uraraka charged Kacchan. '...! She might just-' And he exploded a palm directly in her face, too fast for Uraraka to dodge. '... pull this off…'

As the match went on, I caught on to what Uraraka was doing. Using the rubble as a sort of bomb attack was super clever, but…! "... Uraraka," Midnight announced, " …is unable to continue." … Uraraka collapsed after only one attempt at the technique. "Bakugo moves on to the second round!"

Midnight crouched over the exhausted girl. "OH, POOR URARAKA… TAKEN DOWN BY BAKUGO IN THE FIRST ROUND." "If you're going to be an announcer, then do it right…" Aizawa criticized. Present Mic ignored him, "GET IT TOGETHER, EVERYONE." "You're making this way too personal…" "THE FIRST ROUND IS NOW OVER!! WE'LL MOVE ON TO THE SECOND AFTER A QUICK BREAK!"

'Such an extreme self-sacrificing strategy… Uraraka!!' I thought, making my way to the prep room for my second match, 'If only her weight capacity were higher… or… Yeah. She might've been able to corner him if…'

Kacchan came up one of the stairways as I was passing by. I elected to ignore him, but- "You helped her come up with it, didn't you. That freaking self-sacrificing scheme of hers." Kacchan stopped at the top of the stairs.

… I stopped walking and faced him. "You caused me a lot of trouble out there…"

"-No. I didn't. That was all Uraraka." I interrupted. "… If that was 'a lot of trouble' for you… then that was all Uraraka messing with you." Kacchan just stared at me. "... Congrats on your win," I turned my back to Kacchan, "See you-"

"-What's up with you?" "Hm?" I turned back. Kacchan growled, stomping up to me, "Ever since you got in to this place, you've been freaking weird. Weirder than usual…" He grabbed me by the collar. "So I'm askin' yah -- What's going on with you?"

We stood like that for a moment. The sound of the crowd cheering, my face unreadable. 'Shouldn't I be scared? That plant's effects are gone. But…' I glared at Kacchan. 'No. I'm not scared. Because…'

I grabbed Kacchan's arm- "Let go of me… Bakugo." -and twisted it. "Guh-" With a small grimace, Bakugo released me.

Without another word, without looking back, I continued walking to the prep room.

But not my prep room.

.

Uraraka, having changed out of her uniform, sat at a table. When she spotted me come in the doorway, she beamed at me like usual. "Guess I lost. I just got carried away at the end when I thought I could actually win…" I walked up to her, looking her over skeptically. " Uraraka… Are you hurt?" "I'm good! Well, I'm healing bit by bit, so my stamina doesn't get drained. Just these little scrapes left." Her expression did a 180. Her face scrunched up and she growled. "But darn it! I couldn't put a scratch on him. Guess I just gotta try harder next time!"

"... I-" I hesitated, not wanting to impose on her -- or waste my own prep time. "I need to go prep, but…" "Hm?" "I just… wanted to say -- I think you should focus on combat." Uraraka blinked at me. "What makes you say that…?" "Well -- it's just-" "-Oh!" She smiled brightly, "Does this have to do with that strategy you came up with for me?" "Uh… Kinda." I looked away from her. I could stand up to Kac- to Bakugo, but being close to Uraraka still made me blush. "If you had more hand-to-hand combat training, you might've been able to get close enough to Bakugo to touch him and make him float…"

Uraraka stared at me, her eyes slowly lighting up and becoming even brighter. "I-I-I ummm…" I was looking anywhere but at her. "I'll let you borrow my notebook later, but Ireallyneedtogettothepreproom,bye!!"

I all but ran to my prep room.

…

Before I knew it, it was time for what I knew would be my biggest challenge yet.

"BOTH OF THESE COMPETITORS HAVE WON TOP MARKS IN THIS FESTIVAL SO FAR!!" During the Cavalry Battle, I'd been able to just run away. Same with the race, in a way. But now… "BUT THERE'S ONLY ROOM FOR ONE OF THESE GREATS IN THE RING!" Now I'd have to fight him head-on.

"IT'S… MIDORIYA VERSUS TODOROKI!!"

'As soon as he says it -- I can't afford to hesitate…!' "START!!" Immediately, I leaped as far to my right -- Todoroki's left -- as possible, aimed-

-and used the new tool Master gave me for the first time in this competition.

The place where I was just standing was, predictably, now covered in a wall of ice. And I hadn't dodged completely. Despite my best efforts, and being completely prepared for it, my feet were frozen. I couldn't move…!

"WHOAAA!! WHAT JUST HAPPENED?! I DIDN'T SEE A THING. HAS THE MATCH BEEN DECIDED?" It took a few seconds for the mist to clear. When it did, Midnight looked at both contestants -- and walked up to Todoroki.

"Todoroki and Midoriya are both immobilized… But-" I was grinning. I knew. I could practically see a recording of the fight in my mind. Me jumping, Todoroki firing his ice, me firing a knockout-bullet in Todoroki's face -- and Todoroki collapsing before my feet froze. "-Todoroki was immobilized first… Midoriya… moves on to the third round!!"

"-Yes! … ehem." "WHAT HAPPENED TO 'DON'T MAKE IT PERSONAL'?" Present Mic jeered at Aizawa.

.

Waiting for my feet to be thawed, I listened to the audience. After their reaction to me winning against Shinso… "That Midoriya…" "He should've gotten straight up blown away!" "Did Todoroki not have a plan, or…?"

'So…' My heart sank.

'It's the same.'

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

All For One grinned.

"Did Todoroki even want to win? Or was he trying to lose?" "Either way, Todoroki sure has some impressive power…" "Midoriya's got moxie, for sure, but…" "Todoroki put up such a good show through the cavalry battle, c'mon!"

The "audience" seemed to be having the effect he'd hoped. That is, if the boy's expression was anything to go by. He turned away from the screen, "He actually made it past that prodigy… Well, then. Time to begin the next phase, Kurogiri."

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

[Beginning]

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Read my original book, Crossroad of Infinity for free right here on Tumblr, on my website, or on AO3!

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Reincarnation | Hashibira Inosuke

⟵ previous (chapter six). current (chapter seven).  next (chapter eight).   ⟶

❝some memories never leave your bones. like salt in the sea, they become a part of you.❞

— and you carry them (p a p e r w i n g s by april green)

“Make sure they get to their recipients, Kemuri. When you come back, I promise you lots of fruits and nuts, alright?” You told your crow, securing the letters you had written earlier around her legs.

She merely cawed back in reply before snatching the almond that you had been snacking on earlier before flying off.

You blinked and looked at your hand, where the almond had been previously.

Well. No matter how much training they went through, their inner instincts came first.

“That was the last one, too.” You mumbled in disappointment, walking over to Inosuke who was swinging his swords against trees and tree branches.

“Inosuke?” You called out, poking his shoulder gently.

He didn’t respond as he continued to slice off the branches with clean cuts, but you knew you got his attention which he paused for that mere millisecond before swinging his sword again.

“I suggest we go look for a village to heal up for a night or two. Eat and maybe buy some things, too,” you prodded, tilting your head at him. “You know, get our fill of tempura, sashimi, udon, donburi…”

His head snapped towards you, the snout of the boar mask he was wearing touching your nose. Your eyes widened, not realizing that you were this close to Inosuke.

You felt your cheeks grow hot.

“Well? What’s that look for? I know you’re hungry for some tempura. Let’s go.” You said, turning your head to the opposite direction and walked away from him, swallowing down any of the feelings you had felt just now.

You had no idea what you were going through. Was it…was it an allergy from his boar mask? No, no…you’re beside Inosuke all the time, you had never gotten an allergic reaction from it before.

Then what is it?

Maybe I should ask Shiori when I go back…

Your eyes shifted to the boy who was now walking in front of you, with his arms crossed and head held up high.

You unconsciously smiled, shaking your head. He liked making competitions out of the smallest things—you supposed that’s just how he grew up. But lately, he hasn’t been challenging or trying to compete with you—you had no idea why, but you let him be. Besides, if you were to ask him (which you definitely would not. Confrontation was something you are not fond of, and they only happened with bursts of adrenaline or anger).

“Inosuke, you can pick out the restaurant when we arrive to a village, since I promised you that I’ll pay.” You reminded him, patting the pouch that had your money in it, a soft jingling sound being heard.

He turned to you at you, a mischievous glint in his eye—oh, oh, no…what is he thinking?

“Then what are you waiting for?! You’re so freaking slow!” Inosuke yelled; within a second, you were holstered over his shoulders like some damn sack of potatoes, breaking into a run.

“Inosuke! What are you doing?” You huffed, swaying slightly in his hold.

He didn’t reply; instead, he increased his pace. You sighed, deciding to just go with it. Because the boy was as stubborn as a mule (or boar, perhaps? Hah, you’re so funny), and you didn’t bother to say anything about it. Hey, at least you didn’t have to use your feet.

The inner lazy part of you was content with that.

“Inosuke, how’d you find out about the Final Selection Examination? I never got to ask you.” You asked, closing your eyes. You started to feel a bit dizzy from looking at he rapidly moving ground, as well as from the swaying—so, you tried distract yourself.

“I fought and beat up a Demon Slayer who invaded my mountains!” He started, seemingly proud. “I got my swords and he told me about demons and the test.”

You could imagine him with a smug smirk and steam blowing out of the mask’s nostrils as he spoke.

“Really? Wow, you’re so strong, Inosuke.” You praised light-heartedly, knowing that he would take you seriously.

“Of course I am! I’m the god of the mountains!” He cackled, pace increasing as he got more riled up from your compliment.

You sighed, shaking your head. Inosuke is a tough person to tolerate, you could tell by how he acts and the way his personality is—but, for some reason, you felt like ever since the two of you met, you sort of just…clicked, per se.

You liked being friends with him.

“Oi, woman! We’re here!” Inosuke barked, causing you to open your eyes and look around you. Indeed, the both of you had arrived to the village—the familiar chatter of people and the sounds of giggles of children playing entering your ears.

You half expected to Inosuke to just…throw you onto the ground; however, much to your surprise, he gently placed you back on the ground onto your feet.

“Thank you, Inosuke. I had fun with you carrying me,” You smiled gratefully at him, brushing off any dirt from your hakama; however, your lips soon turned into a concerned frown. “Are you sure I wasn’t heavy, though? I feel like I might’ve broken your shoulder or something.”

“I’m fine! I’m strong and I could carry ten billion of you if I could!” He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

You bit your lip. You couldn’t really tell if he was lying since you couldn’t see his facial expressions, but his body language seemed to scream ‘I could carry you one billion times over and over if it was possible.’

“Okay, I believe you. Now, you should—” You were cut off by Inosuke abruptly pulling you by the hand, heading towards a restaurant.

Well. You were about to tell him to choose a restaurant.

You took a seat beside him as he took off the boar head, placing it on the chair beside him. The elderly man smiled at the both of you as you greeted him politely, and gave you both a set of menus.

While you skimmed through the sheet of mulberry paper with the handwritten food choices, you felt him nudge you harshly.

“Mm?” You hummed, not bothering to glance over at the boy beside you, despite him nudging you multiple times.

“I don’t know how to read or write! Order for me, woman!” He demanded, slamming the menu on the counter.

You blinked.

Oh.

“You could’ve said so earlier when the man handed it to you,” You chided, taking his menu and put it under yours. “I’ll read the options to you, and tell me if you want them, yeah?”

He grunted in response.

Your eyes looked over the familiar kanji, clearing your throat before you read it aloud to him.

“Tempura.”

“Hell yes!”

“Yakitori.”

“Yes!”

“Gyoza.”

“Yes!”

“Udon.”

“Yes!”

…this is going to take a while.

∞

I wonder if there’s an inn or a place where we can stay, you thought, after paying and thanking the man for your meal—or, well, meals, since you had to order a lot for the boar boy who was currently beside you, hands behind his head and walking in a relaxed manner.

He looked so satisfied.

Maybe I should spoil him more if he ends up acting like this.

Your lips curled upwards into an amused smile, shaking your head at the thought. Honestly, if you did, you would have no more money left. And you would never ask Shiori for money—you didn’t want to burden her.

As your eyes looked over at the handwritten ink kanji that displayed the name of various shops within the village, none of them said inn. You were patient, however, and if you couldn’t find one—well…you supposed you and Inosuke would end up sleeping under the stars tonight.

It was better than asking people if you two could stay over for a night, right?

Of course. Because being a burden to someone was one of the worst feelings ever. You…you knew that feeling quite well.

“Hey, woman.” Inosuke called out, breaking you away from your thoughts.

Your attention shifted onto him, blinking a couple times before answering with a hum of acknowledgement.

“That’s the same picture of the place we stayed at last time.” He pointed out, gesturing to the house with a crest of a wisteria flower.

“Ah. So it must be one of those Wisteria Family Households Akio was talking about.” You realized, quickening your pace.

Inosuke easily caught up to you with just a couple strides. “Hah? Who’s Abita?”

“It’s Akio,” you sigh, “you know, the guy who tried to flirt with me. He sat beside me at the restaurant in the other village.”

He gave you a blank look. “What the hell is flirting?”

You stopped in your tracks. Is he serious? He didn’t know what flirting was? Did living in the mountains make him this oblivious?

“It’s, well…it’s when someone acts that they like you in a, um, romantic way, but it’s actually playful—not serious. Most of the time, that is.” You stuttered, explaining to the best of your ability. You didn’t have to explain such a thing to anybody before—of course you are going to struggle.

“What does liking someone in a romantic way mean?” He questioned.

“I don’t know,” You huffed, throwing your arms in the air in an exasperated manner. “I’ve never felt that way before.”

“Huh? I thought you knew everything!” Inosuke barked, pointing a finger at you accusingly.

“Well, clearly, I don’t. I’m only fifteen. I know what I know because I either read them in books, observe, or people who are experienced tell me,” You told him, pausing for a moment before speaking up again. “And said people have told me what it feels like to like someone romantically, so I’ll relay what they’ve told me.

“When you like someone in a romantic way, you get all happy and tingly when you see them laugh or smile. I guess notice the small things? Like how their eyes light up when they talk about the things they like, their nervous habits, and the like. You feel comfortable yet anxious around them, since you mostly want to impress them and not say anything that may make you bad.” You paused for a moment, trying to remember what other things the women of the village talked about.

“You, um… feel connected to them in emotional way. Whether it’s how they express how they feel, or the way they talk, you feel attracted to it. You want to support them and be there for them no matter what—especially during their happy moments and hardships, or something. You want to comfort them when they are sad, you want to be the reason why you make their day.

“Their looks don’t matter. Sure, it may be a factor in why you love them, but it’s only a small one. Their personality is what stands out to you. Whether it’s the good or bad, you love them for all their flaws and imperfections. Sometimes, you can’t focus because of them—because they occupy your thoughts most of the time. No matter how hard you try to get rid of the thoughts of them, you can’t. Because they’re stuck in there.

“You always want to be close to them and not necessarily in a…” you swallowed, biting the insides of your cheek, “very… intimate way. You want to feel their warmth, hold them tight in your arms, inhale their comforting scent, and just relax in their presence, because that is the only thing that would matter to you on those moments.

“When you’re around them, all you can focus on is them and the way your heart is beating much faster, you have weird feeling in your stomach, you feel all hot and giddy at same time. That, all in all, is what liking someone romantically means.”

Phew. All that explaining really made you feel breathless.

“…that sounds dumb.” Inosuke commented with a nonchalant shrug, walking ahead of you.

Your eyebrow twitched. Did you just explain all of that for nothing?

“Oh, gods above, please help me.” You muttered, following after Inosuke. He had already knocked—no, banged—on the door of the house, waiting for someone to just open it.

He was about to bang once again when it opened, revealed two identical women—the only difference was their kimono pattern.

They were about your height, their slowly graying, plum purple hair styled in the traditional maru-mage, framing their round, petite face that had light wrinkles on their forehead, eyes, and the corner of their thin lips. They had drooping, almond shaped eyes that had that color of teal—which matched the jewels on the hairpins they donned.

The one of the right had a kimono whose color was that of cream, with sky blue chrysanthemums and green leaves decorating the clothes. The one of the left had a kimono whose color was of peach, majestic cranes with their beaks carrying pink cherry blossoms, decorating the clothes.

How stylish.

“Hello, kids!” The one on the right smiled warmly, stepping aside along with her counterpart so the two of you could enter. “Welcome to the Wisteria Family Household.”

“Thank you…” You trailed off, as you didn’t know their names.

“Ah! I’m Fujimoto Kotone,” the one in the peach colored kimono introduced, “this is my twin sister, Fujimoto Kohana.”

The said woman, Kohana, frowned. “I can speak for myself, big mouth.”

“I’m just being nice, you idiot. I guess you don’t understand because you’re never nice to me.” Kotone answered with a huff.

You blinked. Are they fighting right now?

“I’m, um, I’m (L/N) (Name),” You said, trying to cut off their pointless bickering. “That’s Hashibira Inosuke.”

Kotone paused, pinching her sister’s side (causing Kohana to wince and slap her hand away) before smiling sweetly at you. “It’s wonderful to meet you both. Here, let me show you to the room. You can change into your yukata there.”

You nodded, following her into the hallway before stopping in front of two rooms, which were right across from each other.

“I’ll prepare your meals with my sister.”

“Actually,” You piped up, stopping her from leaving. “We ate a big meal before coming here, so it’s okay.”

Kotone nodded. “Alright, then. I’ll call over a doctor. Please, take your time.”

She flashed you two a warm smile before disappearing into the corridor, going to who-knows-where.

“I claim this futon!” Inosuke shouted, jumping onto the futon in your designated room that was on your right.

“Sure.” You shrugged, stepping into the room. You slid the door close, taking off your bow and unstrapped your quiver, placing them on the ground.

Why didn’t they give us separate rooms? Goodness…

“Inosuke, look away.”

“Why?! I can do whatever I want!” He said, turning his head to look at you and crossed his arms.

“Inosuke, a guy, like you, shouldn’t look when a girl is changing. That’s how it is.”

“Huh? Why?”

You sighed, frowning. “Because that’s how it works. Now turn around.”

Inosuke grumbled to himself, turning away.

You slipped out of your clothes, folding them neatly and placed them beside your futon. After getting dressed in your yukata, Kohana announced that the doctor had arrived.

Kohana lead you to the room where the doctor was in, your eyes widened in recognition.

“Hello—oh! (Name)-san! I didn’t know that I would see you soon again.” The doctor from Akio’s household, Kimoto Botan, greeted as she looked up from her bag.

“Yes…we just came back from a mission.” You replied, bowing your head out of politeness.

“We?”

“My partner, Hashibira Inosuke.”

“Ah! The rowdy one.”

You smiled out of amusement. “Yeah, the rowdy one. Want me to bring him over?”

“That’d be ideal! Thank you.” She said, placing her bag down on the ground and began to take out the supplies.

You slid the shoji to the room open, seeing him sprawled on the futon with his boar mask on, hearing a faint groan.

“Inosuke? The doctor is here. You should come over to the other room to get checked out.” You spoke gently, placing a gentle hand on his bicep.

“No. You already did everything for me.” He grunted, turning his head away. You heard a faint wince.

“But, what I did at the farmhouse isn’t enough. Please, can you come with me?” You coaxed, taking his calloused hand in yours and tugged it lightly.

He gripped your hand, slowly getting up from his spot and trailed after you with sluggish steps. You weren’t so sure what was wrong with him—perhaps due to the wounds and painkillers you had given him, they had finally taken effect and he mellowed out—after all, the herbs you used helped calm and sooth a person from any pain they were experiencing.

“Huh? Is everything okay with him? I thought he’d be very energetic.” The doctor wondered, letting him sit down in front of her as she began to check his wounds.

“I gave him some painkillers. I think they made him soften up.”

Botan looked up at you, eyebrows raised. “What were they?”

“White willow bark and lavender essential oil.”

“I see. (Name), were you a herbalist before you became a demon slayer?”

You shook your head. “No. But, growing up, I had to learn such things.”

She frowned, unwrapping the bandages on Inosuke’s torso and shoulder. “What? Where did you grow up?”

“In a—”

“W-wait, (Name), your nose is bleeding!”

“Huh?”

Indeed, she was right—your nose was bleeding from both of your nostrils, blooding sliding down your lips and onto your chin, dripping into the tatami floors and your yukata.

You cursed in your mind, trying to wipe away the blood—thankfully, however, Botan gave you a cloth to put over your nose, instructing you to pinch your nose while leaning forward.

You were silent after that, instead watching her stitch and disinfect any of Inosuke’s wounds before wrapping new bandages on his body.

You didn’t know why you had gotten a nosebleed; but, you speculated that it was because you used the technique that Izumi-san taught you.

She did warn you that there were after affects for those who didn’t use the technique often enough—and the most common was getting a nosebleed or seriously sore muscles. Worst case scenario? Temporary paralysis.

“Alright, (Name), let’s clean you up and get you checked. I think I saw you limping.”

Damn. How’d she catch that? You internally sighed, moving to side in front of her.

“Why don’t you treat your own injuries?” She asked, while slipping off your yukata.

“They’re not serious.” You shrugged, laying on the futon; you made sure to wrap bandages around your chest area earlier just in case the doctor needed you to take off you’re the yukata.

“Oh, my…(Name), what’s with all those scars on your back?” She whispered, thumb gently brushing over each of the long, thin scars. You felt like each one she touched elicited the painful memories.

45 lashes for dishonesty.

30 lashes for disobedience.

35 lashes for discipline.

50 lashes for disloyalty.

And for what? Because you could never satisfy him.

Your father.

∞

You let out sigh, adjusting the lamp near on the short-legged table you sat in front of in the corner of your room, your journal in front of you.

It was opened on a clean, blank page—to which you would write the events of your day. You took the ink brush and stroked it against the ink stone, before beginning to write in the journal.

You felt Inosuke’s stare on your back, causing you to pause and look over your shoulder. “Inosuke? Do you need something?”

“What are you doing?” He asked, brushing his hair out of his face and sat next to you, looking at your journal. Though he couldn’t understand a single word, he tried to decipher the contents of the page.

“Writing a journal to my mother and grandmother. Itʼs a comfort thing.” You replied simply, swiping the brush over the ink stone before continuing to write.

“You have family?”

You paused for a slightest moment before turning to the next page. “No, they’re dead. But, I have a new family, even if they’re not blood-related to me.”

After that, Inosuke was silent.

You didn’t know why, but you didn’t bother to question him. Instead, you finished writing in your journal.

About to turn off the lamp, the door to the room slid open, revealing Kotone. She smiled warmly at the two of you, greeting you.

“Hello, you two. I saw that you still haven't gone to sleep.”

“Sorry,” you felt guilty. “I needed to do write some things before I went to sleep.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “No, no, it’s quite alright. I just wanted to tell you both something.”

You watched the way Inosuke perked up at Kotone’s words, eyes narrowed.

“So? Hurry up and tell us!”

She laughed once again. “It’s nothing much. Tomorrow, our village will be holding out annual wisteria festival. I thought maybe you two would like to join us?”

You pursed your lips, averting your eyes to your fidgeting fingers. It’s been a long, long time since you had last attended a festival—which made you a little nervous. You only performed during them, only rarely would you have gotten to explore and actually have fun.

It would be a good change.

“Okay,” You nodded, looking over at Inosuke, “What about you?”

“I’ve never been to a festival!” He grumbled.

“Well, there’s lots of games and food—”

Inosuke perked up at the mention of food. “I’m going!”

Kotone grinned. “Wonderful! Make you two get lots of sleep. Goodnight.”

You bid her a goodnight as well, turning off the lamp before slipping under your covers.

You couldn’t wait for tomorrow. It would be a good change of atmosphere.

∞

“No, no! Kohana, this is the perfect kimono for her! Look at it! It’s gorgeous and suits her!”

It was only late afternoon, yet the two middle-aged women were fighting about what you would wear to the Wisteria Festival—which would be happening in the evening.

“Then, why not?” You answered, resting your chin on the palm of your hand on the chabudai table. “I’ll wear it.”

Kotone let out a childish squeal. “Yes! See, Kohana?”

Her twin narrowed her eyes at her. “Did I fucking say I didn’t like it? No, so piss of with the bragging.”

Kotone rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind her snippy attitude, (Name). She’s just disappointed that the man she liked is engaged to another woman.”

Kohana slapped her sister’s arm. “Shut up! That is my personal business.”

Kotone frowned. “So? It’s not like she’s gonna announce it to the entire country. (Name)’s quiet.”

“I don’t—”

You immediately zoned out of the conversation, not wanting to listen to their bickering. It was quite exhausting, to be honest. You didn’t like being around conflict much—despite, well, certain circumstances. Like being a Demon Slayer.

You took the kimono that Kotone seemed to love, walking behind the folding screen. You took off the yukata they had provided you and slipped on the nagajuban, then the kimono. It wasn’t bad looking it at; it was black and white with a flock of cranes flying as a design below the bronze colored obi, which contrasted the colors of the kimono.

It was simple yet stylish—just how you like it.

“Oh, I think I’m going to cry!” Kotone sniffed, a bright smile on her features as you stepped in front of the folding screen.

Kohana rolled her eyes, features softening upon the sight of you. “You look stunning in the kimono, (Name).”

Oh.

Shit, how do you respond to compliments?

You merely blink at the woman, lips sealed shut, mind racing with thoughts.

Kohana laughed at your blank expression, patting you on the back. “You don’t have to respond. Your blank face is amusing.”

“Hey, don’t make fun of her. She just might be socially awkward, that’s all.” Kotone chided, pushing Kohana away from you and side-hugged you.

You scrunched your nose. How straightforward.

“I’m going to my room to get prepared for the festival. Thanks for the kimono.” You bowed politely, sliding open the shoji before exiting Kotone’s room.

You sighed. You were sort of nervous thinking about the festival—after all, you’d never really got to enjoy them…instead, you had to perform, doing kagura dances and entertaining other people.

But now? You got to go on your own free will, this time you being the one entertained, and not you doing it.

It was sort of refreshing, to say the least.

“Where is he?” You muttered, sliding the door open to the backyard of the house.

There he was, sitting on the engawa, leaning backwards with his arms supporting him. He, surprisingly, did not have his boar mask on—he was merely staring off into the distance, dazed.

“Inosuke.”

“Gah!” He jumped, startled by your sudden presence. “What is your problem?!”

“Don’t blame me. You’re the one daydreaming.” You deflected, sitting down beside him.

“I would’ve senses your presence, but you barely have one!”

You hummed, crossing your arms and looking over at him. “But that’s not my problem, now is it?”

“You…!”

“Now that we have settled that, you should get dressed for the festival soon. It’s almost evening.”

He huffed. “No! Why can’t I go in this?!”

Inosuke gestured to the yukata he was wearing before he crossed his arms over his chest.

“That’s informal and used to wear at homes other than the jinbei. Besides, Kotone-san already has one picked for you,” You explained, poking his chest. “You don’t want to be late and all the food to be gone, now do you?”

“Huh?! No way!” He shouted, immediately getting up, heading to Kotone’s room.

You laughed quietly to yourself, getting up from your spot on the engawa. You looked up at the slowly changing colors of the sky, the sun gradually beginning to prepare for its slumber.

You headed to your room, opening the shoji before sliding it shut. You rummaged through your sack, taking out some of your small weapons.

Kunai, shuriken, and a tessen fan.

In a normal situation, such things were deemed extremely unnecessary—why would you bring weapons to a festival? But, then, you are reminded of your current occupation—you are a Demon Slayer. This is your life now. You are to be prepared for anything. Who knows if a demon would attack, considering it’s a festival with lots of humans gathered.

Though, yes, there were going to be wisteria—after all, the village were surrounded by them, but who knows? There could be demons that could get into the village by some sort of unknown means, or perhaps demons even immune to such things.

Man, you are so paranoid.

So, without a thought, you concealed the weapons throughout the kimono, making sure they wouldn’t slip out from any accidental gestures or sudden movements.

Unfurling the fan, it revealed a beautiful design of a golden moon in the middle of what it seemed like the night sky, orange lilies facing the moon.

Elegant, but deadly.

It reminded you of someone.

∞

“So many people…” You muttered, eyes darting around at the crowds of people laughing and conversing, as well as the giggles and squeals of children running about—indeed, the atmosphere felt familiar; it was positive and bustling, like the others you had attended before.

You felt a tug on the side of your kimono, turning around to see Inosuke gripping your obi, and had a troubled expression on his face. His eyes seemed to dart around at the crowds of people, his frown deepening.

Ah.

He wasn’t very used to crowds of people, huh?

“Inosuke, does anything catch your attention?” You asked, hooking your arm around his and began to guide him to the stalls, where the multitude of people lessened.

He tensed under your touch before relaxing, looking over at you glancing at the stalls. “What’s that?”

“Ah, I think that’s where you goldfish scoop.” You answered before greeting the man at the stall politely. You gave him some money before he handed over the two of you a poi and a bowl, which had washi paper over it.

“Look, you have to put as much goldfish as you can inside of the bowl before the washi paper tears.” You explained, proceeding to scoop the squirming goldfish before placing it in the bowl.

“This is a dumb game! I want something more challenging!” He demanded.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Whoever gets more inside the bowl wins and gets to eat the other’s dinner.”

Inosuke’s emerald eyes seemed to shine brightly with determination. “Hah! I’m going to beat you!”

So, you let him.

You couldn’t help it—it was too endearing. His easily excitable self was amusing—besides, he let you keep the goldfish. You made a mental note to let them free later.

You guided him to each of the games and stalls, teaching him how the traditional games worked—surprisingly, he was good at them; even if it was his first time. The best part? You got to keep his winnings.

“Why are you giving them to me, anyways?” You asked, hugging the stuffed animal—a rabbit—close to your chest.

“I don’t need them. They’re useless.” He answered, taking a bite of his yakitori.

“But they make good souvenirs and memories, don’t they?”

“Hah? Does it look like I care? I only want to get stronger!” He puffed out his chest proudly.

You hummed in response. “I care. I barely have any good ones, so I want to make as much as I can. It sort of sounds silly, but,” you smiled, tucking a stray hair behind your ears. “It makes me happy.”

Inosuke almost choked on his food, the sight of your genuine smile catching him off-guard. Not to mention the lighting of the warm, gold lamps made it seem like you were glowing—the sudden skip of his heartbeat made him feel flustered.

What the hell was that all about?!

He scrunched his nose in distaste, throwing away the skewer. He didn’t want to occupy his mind with such thoughts.

“Ah, Inosuke. I think it’s time for the lanterns to he set in the river and the fireworks to start.” You said, taking his hand in yours as you began to work your way through the crowds, holding both your and Inosuke’s lantern with the other.

For some reason, you liked the touch of Inosuke’s hand—it was large and calloused, but very warm and comforting. Not to mention that your hand fit with his perfectly, a warm feeling spreading in your chest.

You stopped when you arrived to the front of the lake, sitting down and patted the spot beside you. “Here, we let the chochin float about in the lake.”

“What’s the point in this?”

“To ward off evil spirits and the like.”

“Those don’t exist.”

“Many people do believe in them, though.”

“Those people are dumb.”

“Inosuke,” you huffed, looking at him. “Just put it in the river.”

He grumbled, placing the lantern on the lake at the same time as you. You pushed them, watching as the light glow of the many lanterns illuminating the lake, giving it a warm shimmer.

Loud explosive sounds began to ring out in the air, causing the two of you to jump put of surprise. However, you immediately calmed down upon noticing it was only the fireworks, the colors bursting into the sky in large sparks—dancing among the stars momentarily before disappearing.

“What the hell? Those are fireworks?” Inosuke grumbled, pointing to the sky.

“Yeah. Those are it. Aren’t they cool?” You smiled, looking up at the sky.

He watched as the sparkling lights and colors reflected against your irises, your small smile brightening your face. Inosuke felt his cheeks warm up, causing him to huff out of annoyance.

“No, they’re fucking boring. It makes me wanna sleep.”

Your attention shifted over to him, watching as he rubbed his eyelids and how he barely managed to keep them open. “Okay, then sleep on my lap.”

“Huh?! No!”

“It’s better than sleeping in the grass.”

“I don’t—!”

You cut him off by tugging on his yukata harshly, the side of his head landing on your lap. “Sleep, you big baby. Don’t complain too much.”

You began to run your fingers through his hair in a gentle manner, causing him to relax under your touch once again. He felt his muscles loosen up and his eyes begin to close, a wave of tiredness washing over him.

You smiled to yourself, looking up at the fireworks. You were already used to such things—the little boys in the village always liked to hang out with you before they got tired, sleeping on your lap as you brushed their hair with your fingers.

However, for some reason, this moment felt awfully intimate with Inosuke. You felt the heat in your cheeks rise as you peeked at his sleeping face, a relaxed expression on his features as his lips parted with each breath he took, chest rising and falling.

These feelings...what are they?

[something-tofightfor]

Tonight: Part 6

Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader (first person POV)

Word Count: 7160

Rating: R (language, mentions of violence, sex, drug use)

Trigger Warnings: Restraint, mention of drug use and casual sex

Summary: After the night (and morning) with Logan, what’s next for the two of you? Was it one night - or could it mean more?

Author’s Note: I apologize so much for taking three months to finish this one, but as many of you know, Logan’s... very important to me. I wanted this to be right, and I didn’t want to end it on a low note. I wanted to make sure that I was completely happy with this final part of the story, because Logan deserves the best. 

Thank you for going along on this journey with me. Thank you for supporting me and supporting Logan. Thank you for all of your comments and asks and compliments. 

Tag list: @benbarnestongue @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @the-blind-assassin-12 @disengagefrmreality @suchatinyinfinity @elanor-of-imladris @lexxierave @ms-delos @blah-blah-fuckit-shit @drinix @gollyderek @ymariejp @traeumerinwitzhelden @obscurilicious @thesumofmychoices @breanime @madamrogersstorytelling @songtoyou @ethereal-heavcns @editboutique @marauderskeeper @ilkaeliseb @delicatelilyflower @king4thesirens @mr-robot-x @rageshots @shinebrightlikeafanbase @littlemermaidprobz @introvertedlibrary @writing-for-a-chance @yesixoxo @ilikebeachessushiandsmallanimals @likeorions @swiftyhowlz @dylanobrusso @luminex3 @malik-payne @lynne1993 @bucky-is-my-precious  @mfackenthal @weallhaveadestiny @ladyblablabla @sweetybuzz25 @dreamwritesimagines  @audreychaz @tc-elliot @dreams-with-thoughts @kind-wolf @honeyydippaa @thesandbeneathmytoes @geeksareunique

We slept the majority of the day, and when I finally opened my eyes, the light in the room had changed again. Logan was still sleeping next to me, hair messy and spread out over the pillow, but he was no longer touching me. He’d shifted away slightly, on his side from the waist down, the blanket pushed down to his knees, but the top half of his body was flat against the bed, chest pressed to the comforter. He’d shoved his hand and forearm beneath the pillow to support his head, the other arm trapped beneath his body. Oh, Logan. I’d never watched him sleep before, but figured that he wouldn’t mind, and so I stared at him, fighting the urge to reach out and run my fingers through his hair. He asked you to stay. He didn’t give you permission to touch him. 

 Eyes moving over his pale skin - still with a few red marks present on his back from my greedy fingers hours prior - I thought carefully. I cared about Logan, and he knew it. Even if I didn’t say it in so many words, the trust I had in him - the belief in his ability to control himself, even when I’d seen and felt him at less than his best - was apparent. I knew that he’d been with many women and men before me, and likely would be with even more after me, but I desperately wanted to believe that no one had shown Logan what I had - no one had ever willingly put their life in his hands in the way that I chose to. I want to help you, Logan. But I also want you… and want you to help yourself. 

 Keeping things casual had been an option at first, but I’d been a fool to think that I wouldn’t fall for the man the longer things continued between us and the more I got to know him. Sober or not, Logan and I had been toeing the line for months, and we’d finally crossed it for good with my request the previous night. What that meant exactly for us, though, remained to be seen. I shifted on the mattress, realizing that I had to pee, and with a wince, I rolled away from Logan, carefully getting out of the bed so that I didn’t disturb him. Shutting the door quietly behind me, I gripped the edge of the counter for a moment, steadying myself before I sat down, my mind racing. Do I get back into bed? Do I sneak out? What do I do?

 Before washing my hands, I used one of Logan’s towels to clean myself up, dampening it with warm water and running it over my lower half and between my breasts. What I really need is a shower. That done, I stared at myself in the mirror, fighting back the same terror that I’d felt before going back to sleep. What happens now? My hair was a mess of tangles, lips still somewhat swollen, and there was a faint bruise on my shoulder to go with the ones on my neck. Hmm. Taking a breath, I twisted my hair into a knot at the top of my head, securing it with the same elastic that I’d removed earlier before quietly opening the door and stepping back into the room. “Hey.” Freezing at the sound of his voice, my eyes went back to the bed, where Logan was still in the same position as before, except now, his eyes were open. Shit. “Gonna get back in bed?” 

 I nodded and climbed back in next to him without speaking, and as soon as the sheet had been pulled up to my chest, Logan moved, pulling the hand from beneath the pillows and reaching over to squeeze my bicep. “Yeah, Logan?” He looked peaceful, still half asleep, and I couldn’t help staring at him, my gaze focused on his face. “Sleep well?” He nodded, his hand sliding up my arm to my shoulder, thumb circling over it. Don’t get used to this. 

 “Can I…” He swallowed, closing his eyes and reopening them before he spoke. “Can I take you out to dinner tonight?” What? He must have seen the look in my eyes because he continued quickly, not giving me a chance to speak. “I’d offer to cook for you, but there’s nothin’ here for real food.” Logan cleared his throat. “I don’t want you to go, not until…” He paused, thinking. “Not until I understand.” Understand what? 

 “I don’t have anything to wear, Logan. Just the jeans I was in last night, and-”

 “You left a dress here once.” I did? “I washed it, and then kept it in the closet. I didn’t realize it was yours at first, but then I saw a picture of you in it, and I knew.” He waited a second. “You can shower and then put it on, and we can go, if you want.” Oh. 

 “I… Logan…” God, I want to.  I rubbed a hand over my face, groaning. “You don’t owe me anything, Logan.” Looking back at him, I expected to see relief in his eyes, but instead I saw something else entirely. “Logan, what’s wrong?” 

 “If you want to leave, leave.” He rolled away from me, hands dropping immediately to pull the blanket up over himself. “Just fucking go, if you want to get out of here so much.” What? He sat up, facing away from me and leaned forward, head in his hands. I only caught a few words - too good, known better, doesn’t matter - before he shoved off of the mattress, crouching down to pull his pants back on. “Go.” No, that’s not… that isn’t what I wanted at all. “Get out of my bed.” You’re naked. Remember that. 

 “Logan.” I said his name, sitting up and holding the sheet to my chest. “Logan, look at me.” He’d started striding toward the bathroom, but my words stopped him at the foot of the bed, his head turning toward me. “I don’t want to leave.” He faced me fully, leaning forward to grip the footboard of his bed. “That’s not what I was…” Rising onto my knees and moving to the end of the bed while keeping the sheet pressed to my chest, I reached out to Logan with one hand, closing my fingers around his wrist. “I wasn’t making excuses, Logan. But you don’t owe me anything.” I took a breath, focusing my gaze on his bare chest. “I don’t expect anything between us to change because of… earlier.” Look at him. Look at him when you speak to him. “You’ve got a lot of shit to work through, Logan. I know that. I’m just…” I tried to find words, but all I wanted to do was tell him that I wanted to be there for him while he sorted through everything, while he made changes. You can’t do that. 

 “What are you saying?” Logan leaned in further, his face only a few inches from mine. “That’s all I get? That one time where someone treated me like I’m not a fuckin’ failure?” He curled his upper lip, scoffing. “One time to show me that maybe I can get past this bullshit with someone that I... and that’s it?” I sucked in a breath, grip on his wrist tightening. “I don’t owe you anything, you’re right.” Logan’s eyes closed for a second, brow furrowing. “But I need to know.” Need to know what? “Take a shower. I’ll get that dress. We’ll have dinner, and then we can talk, alright?” More talking? 

 “Yeah, Logan.” I nodded, and was surprised to feel Logan’s forehead resting against mine, hair soft against my skin. “That sounds good.” 

 --- 

 The two of us were showered and ready to go within the hour, my hair secured in a loose braid that hung over one shoulder and hid the side of my neck, my skin makeup free. As I sat in the passenger seat of Logan’s car, I was silent, staring out the window. He didn’t try to speak to me, but a few minutes into the drive, Logan reached over, fingers tentatively linking with mine. “This alright?” His voice was quiet, and I jerked my head toward him, watching as his eyes flicked from the road to our hands and then back. 

 “Yeah, Logan.” More than alright. I squeezed his hand and returned to staring out the window. 

 “Italian alright?” He’s repeating himself.  I told him that it was, and after only a few more minutes, Logan pulled into a parking lot that I was familiar with. “Wanna eat here? We can go somewhere else, I just -”

 “No, Logan. This is great.” But instead of getting out of the car, Logan turned the engine off, pulling his hand from mine and using it - and the other one - to grip the steering wheel tightly. “Logan, are you… is everything ok?” He’s not. 

 “I’m… I’ve been better.” He looked over at me, and I again saw how pale his skin was. “But we’re not going to talk about that right now, we’re going to go and have dinner.” He let go of the steering wheel, using one hand to run his fingers through his hair. “Least I can do is feed you properly, right?” Smiling, I nodded at him, unable to stop myself from leaning in and kissing his cheek, my lips catching the corner of his mouth. I shouldn’t have done that. But when I went to pull away, I felt Logan’s hand at my cheek, stopping my movement. “Nope.” He turned his head toward me, staying close. “You’re gonna kiss me, kiss me.” 

 And I did, wasting no time meeting his lips with mine, one hand moving through his hair as I angled my body toward him. I’m making out with Logan sober in the front seat of his car, this cannot be real life. He kissed me like he had that morning after we’d gotten back into bed and I was reluctant to pull back, but when Logan’s stomach growled, I sighed into his mouth, dropping my hand to his shoulder and pushing him playfully. “C’mon, Logan. Let’s eat.” 

 Throughout the meal, we made small talk, avoiding all potential conversation about the previous night - and earlier this morning. Logan”s focus was on me the whole meal, but he was off, tone a little too cheery, eyes a little too bright. He’s embarrassed. It’s… shit. I waved the waiter off when he offered dessert, even though the Red Velvet cake at the restaurant was my favorite and I always joked with my friends that I’d have it at my wedding, wanting only to get Logan back into a place where it was just the two of us. He paid the bill, handing over his card and signing the receipt without even looking at the total, and then stood, waiting. “Wanna get out of here?” How many times have you used that line, Logan? But I nodded, standing, and we started walking back toward the doors, space left between us. 

 More than one woman in the restaurant turned her head to follow Logan’s path past her, eyebrows raised as they stared him down, lips pushed out in a pout, cleavage on display - but he didn’t even look twice at them. Reaching the car, Logan paused before unlocking it, one hand again moving almost nervously through his hair. “Logan, I… what do you need? Tell me.” I frowned at him, stepping closer and reaching out for his arm, pausing before I actually touched him. “Logan…” 

 “Is this a date?” He swallowed, eyes on my face. “I know that seems like bullshit to ask it after… but… fuck.” He lowered his gaze, sighing. “I’m not good at this, usually it’s just leavin’ early and not lookin’ back, but…”

 “Do you want it to be, Logan?” My heart racing, I waited. What does… could he? He said my name, and I snapped back to attention, finally laying my fingers against his arm. 

 “I think I do.” Nodding, Logan’s other arm moved, hand stopping on my hip. “I want…” But he stopped speaking, looking over my shoulder and across the parking lot, nose wrinkled. “Let’s go back to my place, and we can talk about it.” I nodded, wordlessly, expecting him to drop his hand, but Logan didn’t, instead stepping forward and sliding it around to my lower back, pulling me against him and wrapping his other arm around my shoulders in a hug. Oh.  I hugged him back, closing my eyes and inhaling. I like this, but I need to be careful. 

 We were both silent in the car almost the entire way home, Logan’s eyes on the road and mine focused on the side window, though our hands were again joined between us. What am I gonna say to him? I knew what I wanted to say - that I’d be there for him whenever and however he needed me, even if it meant that nothing like the previous night happened again, that I just wanted to help. I wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to pretend he was - that I cared about him. But is that the right call?  He parked the car in front of his garage, right next to mine, but before he could get out, I made my decision as I touched his knee. “Let’s walk, Logan. The beach is good. We can sit on the sand.” He seemed surprised, but I nodded twice, opening the door and stepping out of the car quickly. 

 The skirt of my dress fluttered in the wind as we walked down the path between houses and toward the beach, but Logan didn’t try to take my hand, instead walking a step or two behind me the entire way. When we reached the bottom, I took my shoes off, setting them on the final step and looking back at him, smiling. “Take ‘em off, Delos.” He smiled too - a small one - and slid his feet out of the shoes before taking his socks off, too. Though he was dressed casually - a pair of jeans and a short sleeved shirt, Logan’s posture was rigid as we walked across the sand and toward the water, unlike I’d ever seen him before. In the months I’d known him, Logan always carried himself with grace and ease, even when he was out of it. There was something comforting about the way Logan moved - confidence in every step, with every syllable, but that was nothing like the Logan that was beside me. Glancing over my shoulder and making sure that we were still within sight of his house, I reached toward the sky, stretching as I planted my feet. “Here’s good, Logan.” 

 He stopped walking, waiting until I’d settled on the sand, dress tucked around my legs as I crossed them beneath me to sit, again leaving space between us. I hate this. We silently watched the waves crash against the shore, daylight beginning to fade, and I sighed deeply, eyes on the water though all I wanted to do was turn my head and look at Logan. Did I ruin everything? He’d never been distant with me, not like this, and I didn’t know what to think. Sure, in the moment, and even after, things had seemed good between us, but maybe I’d been wrong. Logan, what did I do? Tell me how to fix this. “No matter who I’ve been with in the past, human or Host, they didn’t… treat me like I mattered much.” Logan finally spoke, voice strong even though it was quiet. “Yeah, I got what I wanted and so did they, but it’s never been real, you know?” I turned my head, watching as Logan pressed his lips together, eyes out and on the horizon. “Westworld and the other parks are the same thing, over and over. Drinking and fucking and killing and…” He shrugged. “It is what it is - an outlet, a fuckin’ escape, somewhere I don’t have to think because it’s all bullshit.” Logan closed his eyes. “I treat the Hosts there like people here treat me, use ‘em and leave ‘em and don’t even think twice about it.” He fell silent again, finally looking over at me. “And so I started treatin’ people like that, too. I didn’t want to hurt them physically or anything, but I didn’t care… what I did to them or how they felt when I was done with ‘em because it’s easy.”

 “Logan, I -” He smiled, the expression sad. 

 “No, please. Let me get this out.” I nodded, swallowing. “I’ve got a pretty high tolerance, so I’m… aware when I’m with people out here, but  haven’t had to make a conscious decision about the way I treat someone in years.” Logan swallowed too, looking down at his lap and then back at me. “I had to do that with you last night. I had to be sure that I didn’t hurt you worse than I did before.” Logan’s eyes went to my neck again, pain registering in them for a split second. “Because I cared. Because I didn’t want to go too far, because I … I want to be able to …” Logan shook his head back and forth violently, biting down on his lower lip and wrinkling his nose. “People move in and out of my life when it’s convenient for them, and when it’s convenient for me. That’s a part of this, a part of bein’ a Delos, part of being me.” He finally looked back at me, eyes wide. “And I’ve been ok with that, because it’s what I … it’s what I deserve for the things I’ve done and the way I’ve acted.” Oh, Logan. No. “My dad thinks I’m a failure, the board members… half of LA thinks that I’m a piece of shit and the other half knows it because I’ve fucked ‘em over.” 

 “But, Logan -” 

 “I don’t wanna fuck you over.” He spoke quietly, eyes locked on mine. “I don’t care what else I do, I don’t ever wanna fuck you over.” He reached out, moving the end of my braid back over my shoulder and dropped his gaze. “I don’t know if this can work. I don’t know what this working would even look like.” Logan narrowed his eyes before closing them. “One night means nothing. One night is a fluke.” I… yeah. “But it’s proof that I can still control myself.” He moved his hands in his lap, clearing his throat. “When you turned me down this morning, I thought it was because you… got what you wanted, and weren’t interested in sticking around for the normal things.” Oh, Logan. “Do you know what it felt like to wake up with a clear head and feel you next to me?” Scary? “It felt like hope.” 

 “Logan, you need to... “ I shifted closer to him, reaching out to touch his hands. “I don’t want to leave, Logan. I told you yesterday that I want to help you.” He watched me carefully, waiting for me to speak again. “It’s not healthy for us to feel… for you to feel scared when you touch me, or when we’re…” I sighed, shaking my head. “This has been years for you, Logan. It’s not going to change in a day.” Logan laughed, nodding as he looked back out over the water. “It won’t be easy, Logan. I’m not a qualified… I don’t know exactly how to help you with this, I can’t give you all of the answers.” He was still nodding, the expression on his face stoic again. “You called me a friend, right?” Logan nodded, agreeing. “Then let me be your friend.” I exhaled, adjusting my position so that I was kneeling on the sand, facing him. “Let me be here for you, Logan.” Even if it’s only as a friend. Would it kill me to watch him with other people? Yes. Would I do it if I knew it would make him better? Without question. “I’m not a professional, Logan. But I care about you, and I think that means more.” He finally looked at me again, unblinking. “I care about what happens to you, Logan.” He kept staring at me, but finally nodded, hands reaching out toward me. 

 Moving again, I let Logan pull me to him, adjusting myself in the sand so that I knelt over Logan’s legs, which were stretched out in front of him, knees slightly bent. “Do you?” I nodded too, using one hand to touch his face, not breaking eye contact. “Do you mean it?” Oh, Logan. My heart broke for him - for the man sitting in front of me on the sand, skin pale and eyes empty. “They don’t. None of them do, no matter how many times they tell me, and I can’t believe…” 

 “I do care about you, Logan.” Leaning in to press my forehead against his, I closed my eyes, steadying myself. “What do I have to do to make you believe that?” He gripped my hips, pushing downward so that I settled against his thighs, but still didn’t let go. “I wouldn’t lie to you.” Without pulling away from him, I shook my head. “I can’t lie to you.” 

 “Tell me.” He sighed and I felt a dampness on my fingers, feeling him shudder beneath my touch. “Tell me you’ll help me, that you won’t… that you won’t leave if it gets hard or that you won’t give up on me.” Without pause, I straightened up, using my hand to lift his face so that he was looking at me again. Silent tears were leaking down Logan’s face and I could feel myself crumbling in front of him, at the fact that Logan was showing such vulnerability. “Tell me last night and this morning weren’t just another reminder of something in my life that’s not real, that can’t ever be real.” He took a deep breath. “Tell me that this was a date, that you want… this isn’t just another… fuck.” Logan looked away, his eyes on the setting sun. “This is stupid, so stupid.” 

 “It’s not, Logan.” Moving my hands, I cradled his face between them, forcing him to look back at me. “I don’t think any less of you because you’re asking for help.” Shaking my head back and forth, I continued, wanting him to feel the truth in my words. “You’re strong. You’re honest. You’re a good man, Logan Delos.” I nodded my head at the shake of his, holding eye contact. “Yes. You are. And anyone that’s ever told you otherwise, Logan, can fuck right off. They don’t know you. William doesn’t know you. Your… Jim doesn’t know you. Those men and women? They mean nothing, Logan.” 

 “But -” I sighed, closing my eyes, 

 “No ‘buts’, Logan. You’re not perfect - far from it.” He cracked a weak smile at that and I continued, watching as the wind whipped Logan’s hair around his face. “And yeah, you’ve got some issues to work through, you know that… but I care about you, Logan. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have… risked…” I trailed off, not wanting to go too deep into his actions from the night before, but knowing that I needed to. “You’re not like this because you want to be, Logan. This isn’t fun for you, and I don’t think it’s ever really been.” 

 “I wouldn’t say that.” Logan swallowed, looking down. “Some of it is. I like the money and the status, like being able to do what I want when I want.” He turned his head, lips meeting the heel of my hand. “But it’s not worth it when I see the look in your eyes that I saw last night, when I... “ He swore again, huffing under his breath. “You were afraid of me, even if only for a few seconds, and it’s never mattered before, with... but if I’d…” He finally looked up and back at me, resolve in his eyes. “I can’t risk hurting you - hurting anyone.” Anyone. I felt the crushing disappointment in my chest at that - at the thought there’d be someone else with him the way that I’d been the night before and fought to hide it, staring at him. “I can’t do that anymore.” 

 “What are you saying, Logan?” Leaning in, I waited, both hands still on his face. 

 “I need to… I need to see someone.” Logan closed his eyes as if the admission embarrassed him. “No rehab, not right away, but I need to talk to someone, need to…” Yes. Talk to someone, let them help you figure this out. “I need to figure out how to be with you without needing to be handcuffed to a bed.” He paused and my eyebrows shot up in surprise. What? “You.” He nodded, still looking vulnerable, and then continued. “You’ve always been there for me, ever since we met, and when you weren’t anymore, something changed with how I... I’m different when I’m with you. I don’t… I’m tryin’ to impress you, yeah, but it’s different.” Logan leaned forward, forehead against mine. “I’m doing it because I want to, not because I feel like I have to.” 

 “Logan, what are you…” My heart was pounding, and I was almost certain that he could hear it over the sound of the surf. “Be with me? You’ve never…” 

 “Shit,” Logan said, licking his lips. “Before yesterday, I thought that this was just… I thought you stopped talkin’ to me because you were sick of my shit, because you realized you don’t want…” 

 “I told you, Logan.” I pulled back from him, putting space between us even though all I wanted to do was lean in. “I won’t be the person you call at 2 am anymore, won’t be the girl that gets drunk with you and falls into your bed only to leave before you wake up the next day and have to pretend like I don’t care.” I dropped my hands to his shoulders. “I am sick of that, Logan. No reason to lie about it. But it’s not because I’m sick of you, it’s because…” This is it. All of this - the last twenty four hours… hell, the last eight months. “It’s because I want more than that, Logan. With you. I want us to have a shot at this, I have for a while, but I’ve never been… it’s not my place to ask that. You’re, well, you. You do things a certain way and you don’t settle and it’s just sex and you -”

 “It’s not settling, not with you.” Logan leaned in again, kissing me on the lips briefly. “How could it be?” There’s no way. “Shit’s gotta change, and I know that, but I’m telling you that I want you to be here with me when it does.” Logan kissed me again, even more gently than he had previously. “I don’t wanna just be your friend.” I inhaled at the declaration, eyes widening. “I want last night and this morning all the time.” You do? “But I want to earn the right to ask you for that.” He paused, sitting up straight and moving his hands from my hips to my thighs, shoulders straight. “I gotta earn your respect and your trust. I have to earn those dates, that … time with you..” 

 “Logan.” Unconsciously, my hands slid back to his neck, thumbs stroking his jaw and the tips of my fingers resting against the hair at the nape of his neck. “Yes.” There was no reason to overcomplicate things. Both of us had said a great deal already - spilled secrets, admitted our fears, opened up to each other. Why keep going? It’s simple. “I want that, too.” He seemed shocked, his eyes brightening and lips parting in surprise. “With you, Logan.” He wasted no time, leaning in and kissing me again, grip tightening on my legs. His tongue slipped back into my mouth, and as we kissed, I moved a hand up and into his hair, stroking the back of his head. This is what I want. You. 

 “I can do this,” he whispered after breaking the kiss, nodding slowly. “I want to do this.” 

 “Yeah, Logan. I know you can.” 

--- 

 Six months later

 I stood in front of the door, hand raised to knock and a frown on my face. I hadn’t seen Logan in a week and a half; he’d been on a business trip to Westworld with potential Delos clients, but he’d texted me to let me know he was home - and that he wanted to see me. It was the first time since our night together that he’d been back to the park, and I knew that he’d been nervous about it. Alright, Logan, let’s do this. I knocked on the door, waiting as I put my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, head down. The door opened a few seconds later, and I glanced up, not knowing what I expected to see. “Logan?” 

 The man in front of me looked perfectly put together - cheeks full, hair and beard neatly trimmed, clothes casual. “Hey.” He grinned at me, reaching out with one hand for mine and I took it, still surprised. “What?” I… 

 “You look good, Logan.” We stepped into his kitchen, Logan stopping as we reached the edge of the counter. “How was -” I was cut off with a kiss, his hand squeezing mine tightly as he moved his other one to my hip, pulling me into him. Though surprised, I kissed him back, smiling against his lips before pulling away and taking a deep breath. “What was that for?” 

 “I missed you.” He shrugged, running his hand through his hair. “We haven’t gone that long without seein’ each other in months.” It was true, since the night I’d spent at his place where we’d hashed everything out, Logan and I had been in constant contact, seeing each other almost daily. He’d sought out a therapist, staring with sessions twice a week, upping it to three times a week for a two month period when things got bad for him, and then dropping back down to two - and then finally to one visit a week just before he’d left for Westworld. I could see and feel the difference in him once he’d started to get comfortable in his sessions, and Logan and I had definitely made personal progress, too. “Did you miss me?” The question coming from anyone else would have seemed redundant or excessive, but from Logan, it was serious, an honest fear of his that I was still questioning what he meant to me.

 “Of course I did, Logan. This wasn’t just a regular business trip, I haven’t spoken to you in - “ He surged forward, kissing me again, and this time when we pulled apart, we were both breathing hard and my chest was red above the zipper of my hoodie. “Jesus, Logan.” 

 “I didn’t… hurt any of them this time.” He spoke quietly and I could hear the apprehension in his voice. “I… I mean, I shot a few Hosts, but it was part of a narrative. I didn’t… when I had the chance, I didn’t... “Didn’t what? Didn’t fuck them? Didn’t kill them, didn’t want to?  He licked his lips. “The anger’s not there anymore.” Oh, Logan, that’s… “Jim really fucked me before I left, too. This trip was supposed to be a disaster for me, he gave me all the wrong information, but I wasn’t… I didn’t... “ He grinned. “I made the deal. They’re going to invest, and they fucking love the park.” 

 I smiled too, hand squeezing his arm. “That’s a huge deal you made, right?” He nodded. “I’m proud of you, Logan. That’s incredible.” He gestured toward the refrigerator, asking if I wanted a drink. “Yeah, Logan. A beer’d be great.” He moved over, grabbing two of them and then we walked through the kitchen and down the hall, returning to the deck with the swing that we’d sat on the first night. This time, when we sat, there was no space between us, my head resting on his shoulder and his arm tightly around me. We sat in silence for a while, swinging back and forth gently, but finally my curiosity got the better of me. “So… who was the lucky Host this time? Clementine? Angela? Hector?” Logan laughed, and I felt his lips meet the top of my head before he spoke again. 

 “Nope.” Logan cleared his throat. “I went for it, picked the one that I figured I’d have the most negative reaction to.” What? I sat up straight, shocked. “Yeah, that’s how I figured you’d react. I picked Dolores.” I’d attended therapy with Logan a few times at his request, and during one of the sessions, he’d told me about the trip to the park with William in detail - Dolores and the Confederados and Pariah, picking at William until the man finally broke, showing his true colors and almost killing Logan. I understood the aversion to rope, the unwillingness to have his hands tied together, why he didn’t like being out in the sun for long periods of time, the disdain for William and his advances within Delos after that day… and it was a turning point for him - and for us. But for him to challenge himself the first visit into the park by choosing to take to bed a Host that he’d killed and hurt over and over in various ways? I couldn’t believe it. “I never even wanted to hurt her when I was with her, and it was multiple times. Yeah, I was annoyed and I still feel the anger about William and what she… meant to him, but hurting her won’t do anything for me, and I get that now.” 

 We’d had long discussions about what going to Westworld would mean for Logan after we’d decided to be together, and he’d been surprised when I’d been open to the thought of him being with Hosts in the park. “They’re not real, Logan. It’s no different than using a vibrator or…” I shrugged. “That’s part of you. The park is the park, it’s not like they’re coming home with you, or you want to be with them.” I bumped his shoulder with mine, smirking. “And if I ever make it out to Westworld, Logan? Maybe I’ll get to see what it’s like to be with a Host, too.” Thinking about him with someone else, someone real was painful, but the Hosts? Glorified sex robots? I didn’t care - and I knew that at the very least, he’d need to try in order to see if the therapy was working, to see if things had changed for him on that end, although he still didn’t trust himself to be with me sober and unrestrained, even months later. “How’d it feel, Logan?” 

 “It felt…” He sipped his beer, leaning back against the backrest of the swing, glancing down at me. “It felt like it used to, when I first started going there. It was a release for me, a way to blow off steam, a way for me to unwind.” He shook his head. “She fuckin’ sucks, don’t get me wrong, but for the first time in a few years, I could … I felt the difference between what I was thinkin’ and what I was feeling. It was fun again” He squeezed my shoulder, shifting so that he was angled toward me and took my hand in his. “It’s helping. All the therapy and the talking to you, and cuttin’ off the people…” Logan pressed his lips together, using his free hand to rub at his eyes. “It’s been hard, but it’s working, and it’s… worth it.” 

 He hadn’t said those words in the previous months, instead lashing out occasionally, yelling about how he needed a fix, about how he just wanted to go back to his old life. I’d stood firm, telling him that if that’s what he really wanted, I couldn’t - and wouldn’t - stop him. He’d walked out once, leaving me standing in his kitchen with tears in my eyes, the sound of the door slamming echoing in my ears, but he’d reentered the room only a few minutes later, apologizing in broken sentences, begging me to forgive him. Another time,about two months in, he’d called me on the phone after a rough day at work, telling me that it wasn’t working, that all he could think about was sticking a needle in his arm, that nothing was worth not having that feeling, the ability to forget, that he’d already called one of his contacts, that they were waiting for him at one of his favorite clubs. I hadn’t known how to reply, so I asked him if that’s what he really wanted, waiting for his answer with my car keys in hand, giving him the chance to make his choice. 

 And he had after a while, after remaining silent on the other end of the phone, breathing heavily. My heartbeat echoing in my ears, I’d waited for Logan to respond, hoping that he’d make the right choice, the one that would keep him safe and on the right path. “Will you come over? I don’t want to be alone.” I knew that I couldn’t singlehandedly save Logan, that it wasn’t my job, but it was my choice - it was my decision to be there for him, to help him when and how I could - so I’d gone, driving quickly to Logan’s and spending the night with him on his couch, arms wrapped around each other as he explained what had happened at work, what William had said to him, how the talk of removing him completely from his position had escalated. 

 Logan had doubled down after that day, increasing the therapy sessions, working harder to secure deals and clients for Delos, and the difference had been noticed - not only by me and the woman Logan saw in a cozy office in downtown Long Beach, but by Jim and William, too, the latter growing more and more worried by the day as Logan regained more of a foothold within Delos. “I’m happy for you, Logan. That’s great to hear.” He smiled again, teeth bright and white in the low light. 

 “Jim called me into his office when I got back and asked me to sit down, which isn’t normal.” Logan shrugged, teeth digging into his lower lip. “He uh, he… he promoted me, and congratulated me for it.” I gasped, my arms going around Logan and causing the swing to shake hard, the chains rattling in their hooks. “Yeah.” Logan hugged me tightly, lips finding the side of my neck. “Yeah, that was my reaction, too.” We stayed like that for a few moments and then Logan pulled away, raising a hand to my face. “Still got a long way to go to get William out of there, but this is a start.” I nodded, feeling his fingers stroking against my cheek. “Thank you.” He said it with such sincerity that it shocked me. “You being here has been exactly what I need.” I looked down, glancing back up at Logan through my lashes simply because I didn’t know what to say. This is on you, too. “Thank you for not giving up when you probably should have.” 

 “I’d never, Logan.” I wet my lips, moving my head back and forth. “Even after I cut you off, I couldn’t… you asked me to come here and I couldn’t tell you no.” He watched me, staying silent, and I saw the way his eyes moved over my face, the way he waited for me to continue instead of cutting in. “I hope you understand that me ever giving up on you isn’t possible.” Logan smiled at my words, lips twitching, and even though it was dark out, I knew that his skin was reddening, that he was embarrassed at my words. They’re true. Even now, after so many months of progress, Logan second guessed himself, what he said to me and to others, wanting to focus on making a good impression. “God, Logan.” I continued, leaning into his touch and smiling back at him. “I can’t tell you how happy I am for you, how proud I am of -”

 “I love you.” His fingers kept moving against my cheek as he spoke, never faltering though his eyes were filled with terror. “You know that, right?” I… what? “I wanted to tell you before I left for the park, but I didn’t… I needed to make sure that…” His eyes flashed and then he closed them, taking a deep breath. “Now I know.” Know? “I’m… I’ve never said that to…”

 “Logan?” I swallowed, shifting so that I was sitting up straight, wanting to be sure that he understood I was listening. “Say it again.” He blinked twice, hand dropping from my cheek to my neck in the same place it had been in on that first night. 

 “I love you.” I didn’t flinch as his grip tightened slightly, thumb rubbing along my jaw. “I’ve loved you s-”

 “I love you too, Logan.” I’d thought the words in my head multiple times - over and over, both while in bed with him and out, hoping that the opportunity to say them would present itself someday. Here it is. “I’m in love with you, Logan Delos.” He smiled at that, nodding again as he lowered his face to mine, stopping just before he kissed me. “You’re -” I stopped, closing my eyes and letting out a breath. “Fuck, Logan, what are you waiting for?” 

 His quiet laugh stopped as his mouth met mine, our lips moving together fluidly. We’d kissed hundreds of times in the months we’d spent together, but this kiss felt different, somehow, as if there was nothing hidden between us anymore. Sure, he was still working through things, and of course it would take some getting used to to hear (and know) that Logan loved me, but if there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that he wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it. With Logan, I could always count on the truth, no matter how much it hurt or caught me off guard. He loves me. He used his free hand to pull me onto his lap, wrapping it around my waist as I settled in place, our mouths still connected. “Hey.” He pulled away, taking a deep breath and pressing his forehead against mine. “Wanna go to bed?” 

 Without pause, I answered, tugging on his hair with one hand and nodding. “Yeah, Logan.” I tilted my head, kissing him again, unable to keep the smile off of my face and the excitement out of my voice. “And I don’t think we need the cuffs tonight.” 

---

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 34)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 8.2k story words: 284k (so far) chapter: 34/? rating: e warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut, some depression, consensual d/s undertones genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

i deeply appreciate all of you wonderful, lovely readers who have stood by me while i took a few month break, both from this fic and kinda from the phandom as a whole. i appreciate everyone who has reached out over the past few months, both to share thoughts about ly and to just chat. it all really helped motivate me to get back into writing and to connect with the phandom again.

as always, a special thank you to my love elizajane for never-ending support, love, and editing <3

as always, skippable hard smut is in the ~*~*~*~

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

Phil woke up to the soft tickle of brown curls brushing under his chin. It took him a moment to make sense of it, to adjust to the brightness of the world, but he slowly realized that the curls belonged to Dan, who had managed to tuck his head into the crook of Phil’s neck sometime during the night. It took Phil another long moment to realize that their limbs were tangled together, hence why he couldn’t seem to make his leg move. Softly, careful not to disturb Dan, Phil trailed the tips of his fingers down Dan’s back, loving how smooth and soft Dan’s skin was under his touch. It wasn’t until Phil’s fingers reached the base of Dan’s spine that he realized they were completely naked beneath the covers.

Craning his neck a bit, Phil peaked down at Dan and found that he was still asleep, his eyes gently closed, his long lashes fanned across his cheeks. Dan looked softer like this — his over the top facial expressions and booming passionate voice melted away, leaving nothing but a quiet calm in their wake. And maybe it was Phil’s imagination, but Dan seemed particularly at peace this morning. He (maybe a bit arrogantly) wondered if it was thanks to the rather amazing sex they’d had last night — the sex where Dan had come not once, but twice. And, fleetingly, he couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with the kind of sex they’d had, if Dan’s quiet peace had something some to do with the way they’d let go last night, the way Phil had taken charge, the way Dan had seemed to hand himself over to Phil.

They’d been toeing that line for a while now, and last night, Dan seemed almost desperate to cross it. Phil hoped it helped, Phil always hoped he was able to help Dan when he was so tightly wound. Coffee seemed rather counter-productive, and songwriting was hardly something Phil had any real power over, even if he knew it helped Dan clear his mind.

But sex — sex with a healthy dose of consensual control? That was definitely something Phil could give Dan any time he needed it. With pleasure.

The morning sun was streaming in through the window — apparently they’d failed to properly close the curtains last night. That wasn’t exactly surprising, given how heated and passionate things had been when they’d finally gotten back to the room after a long night of food, alcohol, and teasing. And then Dan had barely been willing to move after they’d finished; it’d taken all of Phil’s willpower and persuasive abilities to convince Dan to move off him — and stay somewhat awake — long enough for Phil to wipe the cum from his chest and shift them both under the fluffy duvet cover. They never got around to that shower Phil had suggested.

Now that the morning had dawned, Phil found himself wishing they’d done a touch more thinking ahead last night. Closing the curtains would have been a good start, but remembering to put a couple glasses (or pitchers) of water — and maybe some paracetamol — by the bed really would have been a good decision.

But alas, the only things on their bedside table were a half-empty bottle of lube and Phil’s glasses. Eager to try anything that might ebb his hangover headache that didn’t require moving Dan, Phil reached for his glasses and clumsily shoved them onto his face.

The world was a bit clearer now and, if anything, the room seemed somehow more bright. Plus, Phil was becoming increasingly aware of his rather pressing need to pee and a desperate craving for coffee that only grew as the moments passed.

Wanting to let Dan sleep as long as he could, Phil first reached for the telephone and pressed the room service button. It wasn’t until the phone was ringing that Phil realized the menu book was on the other side of the room and he didn’t actually know what Dan would want.

“Room service,” a monotone voice answered.

Oh well, Phil would just have to wing it.

“A pot of coffee — the biggest you have. And a triple espresso with one sugar,” Phil grumbled. His voice was gruff, scratchy from sleep and hoarse from having to yell in the club.

“Any food?” the bored-sounding employee asked.

“Pancakes,” Phil answered reflexively, defaulting to his favorite American breakfast. And a veggie omelet,” he added, thinking it sounded like something Dan might like. “And a plate of bacon. And whatever breakfast potatoes you have.” God, he really needed greasy food. And if Dan woke up in any state like Phil, he would too.

“Anything else?”

“A yogurt parfait,” Phil tacked on, remember Dan eating one at least a few times since they’ve known each other.

“It’ll be up in about thirty minutes,” the man said flatly, and the call disconnected.

Well, that was one problem solved without waking Dan, but Phil didn’t have much hope for being able to fix his rather dire need to pee without disturbing his sleeping boyfriend. Going was a non-option at this point, though, so Phil carefully — carefully — lifted Dan up and tried to sneakily slip out from under him.

Unsurprisingly, Phil’s plan failed; Dan’s arm tightened around Phil’s waist, his fingers digging into the flesh of Phil’s hip, and his elbow unhelpfully pressing against Phil’s bladder.

“Mhm’nah,” Dan mumbled, the nonsensical protest blowing hot air across Phil’s neck.

“I’ll be back in a second, babe,” Phil promised softly, his hand reaching down to gently pry Dan’s fingers from him. It didn’t work — not at all. Dan’s hand may have loosened, but his leg looped further across Phil’s, tightening and drawing their bodies closer, and Dan’s head nuzzled further into the crook of Phil’s neck.

“Dan, hun,” Phil protested quietly as he traced his fingers up and down Dan’s bare back again, noticing the soft ripple of Dan’s spine. “I need’ta go to the bathroom, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Ugh,” Dan responded — it was more of a huff of air in Phil’s neck than anything, and he found himself having to bite back a laugh at Dan’s sleepy antics.

“I ordered room service, it should be here soon.”

That seemed to perk Dan up — his whole body seemed a bit more alert, tight in a way that wasn’t just trying to hold onto Phil.

“Espresso?” he asked hopefully, his voice clearer than it’d been yet, even if his head was still buried in Phil’s neck.

“Of course,” Phil responded with a smile. “Triple with one sugar. What do you think this is? Amateur hour?”

Phil felt Dan smile, a small kiss pressing into his neck. “You’re the best, Phil Lester.”

“Does that mean I can go to the bathroom?”

“Ugh, fine,” Dan relented, his grip on Phil loosening, his body going lax but not actually moving. Trying his best to not entirely disrupt Dan, Phil wrangled himself away from his octopus of a boyfriend and shuffled out of the bed. Standing, Phil stretched his arms, surprised to find how stiff he was — he chose to blame the dancing; it was a much larger amount of physical exercise than he was used to, after all.

“Ya know,” Dan said, sounding a bit more alert. Phil twisted around to look at Dan, only to find him propped up on one elbow, his eyes raking over Phil’s naked body. “I’d planned to wake you up with a blowjob this morning.”

Phil’s lips tipped into a small smile, his eyes darting to the clock. “Well, you’ve still got at least a good twenty minutes before the food is set to arrive.”

Dan smirked back, his eyes slowly dragging their way back up to Phil’s face. “You best make quick work of the loo then, huh?”

~*~*~*~*~*

Sex with Dan was slow and lazy that morning. They were both sleepy and hungover, but waking up next to each other was too much of a novelty for them to be able to keep their hands from wandering until after breakfast. True to his word, Dan wrapped his lips around Phil, taking his time as he moved slowly, languidly, up and down Phil’s cock, licking and sucking and lavishing Phil with attention. Phil’s fingers knotted in Dan’s hair — not guiding, just touching — and he tipped his head so he could watch. As intoxicating as it was to watch his cock slip in and out of Dan’s mouth, the unhurried rock of Dan’s hips against the bed was distracting in the best of ways; Phil’s attention shifted back and forth, flicking from Dan’s mouth to Dan’s arse, over and over and over again.

Phil came quietly, hoarse moans barely audible. Dan swallowed every drop of Phil’s cum, suckling his cock as Phil came down from his high. The overstimulation of Dan lapping his tongue against Phil’s head as he softened, cleaning away all traces of Phil’s cum, slowly became too much, and Phil let out a high-pitched, whiny whimper. Dan pulled back, but didn’t go far; he rested his chin on Phil’s hip, his cheek just barely brushing against Phil’s softening cock, and gazed up at Phil. A satisfied smile spread across Dan’s face, and he seemed to be waiting for Phil to say something.

“ ~*~*~*~*

“You’re so good at that,” Phil finally managed to say, his voice coming out much weaker and gruffer than he intended. His bones felt like soup, his body a heavy, formless weight that Phil was fairly certain he had no control over at the moment. Still, though, he wanted to make Dan feel good, too. “Come’ere,” Phil mumbled, tugging lightly on Dan’s hair. “Lemme help you.”

Dan, however, shook his head and pressed a gentle kiss into the crease of Phil’s hip, right where his chin had been. “I’m okay,” Dan mumbled against Phil’s skin.

Slowly, Phil’s senses were returning to him, and he knit his eyebrows together as he processed what Dan had said.

Phil hesitated, biting his lip, and tried to figure out why Dan wasn’t already crawling up his body, wasn’t already thrusting into Phil’s tight grip.

“Aren’t you, um, hard, though?” Phil finally asked, uncertain. Every other time that Dan had blown Phil, it had really turned Dan on — enough so that all it took was a couple sloppy jerks of his cock to get him off. Phil was concerned, suddenly worried that maybe Dan hadn’t been into this morning as much as he’d thought.

Laughing softly, Dan lifted his head again, looking back up at Phil. “Of course I’m hard,” he chuckled, sounding amused by the question. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do that without getting hard.”

Relief — and a swell of self-satisfaction — washed over Phil, and he tugged on Dan’s hair again. “Then get up here so I can take care of you,” Phil insisted.

“Nah,” Dan replied, far too nonchalant considering he was turning down an orgasm, something Phil knew was one of his favorite things.

One hand still in Dan’s hair, Phil pushed up onto one elbow so he could get a better look at Dan’s face. “I don’t want to be the selfish guy who leaves you hard and wanting just because I’m too fucked out after your amazing mouth,” Phil pouted.

“Trust me, if anyone’s being selfish this morning, it’s me.” Dan sounded sure, albeit still amused. Phil furrowed his brows again, not able to fathom how Dan sucking him and cock-blocking himself could possibly be selfish of Dan. “That,” Dan continued pointedly, his head nodding sideways and nudging Phil’s dick, “was entirely fueled by the fact that I love your sucking cock and didn’t get a chance to taste you last night because I was too eager to be fucked by you.”

Phil opened his mouth to respond, but found himself unable to speak in the wake of Dan’s absolutely filthy declaration.

“Besides,” Dan added before Phil could pull himself together enough to say something — anything. “We definitely don’t have the time to do any of the things I want before breakfast, and you probably need at least a little rebound time seeing as you’re an old man,” Dan teased.

“You’re a brat,” Phil grumbled bitterly, even as he let go of Dan’s hair and cupped Dan’s face, stroking his thumb lightly over Dan’s slightly-flushed cheek.

“You’re not wrong,” Dan smiled, his head tipping into Phil’s hold, clearly seeking more of Phil’s touch. A firm knock startled them both, Dan jumping and Phil’s head snapping towards the door. “And apparently I’m not either,” he added smugly.

“Coming!” Dan hollered loud enough to be heard from the hallway. He pressed another chaste kiss to the crook of Phil’s hip and pushed himself off the bed.

Sometime during their conversation, Dan’s dick had calmed down some — not all the way, it was still half-hard, but some at least. It was soft enough that Phil could only barely tell Dan was still sporting a semi once he wrapped the thick cotton robe around himself, which he reckoned was good enough for the room service delivery person.

There was a moment of polite chatter before Phil heard Dan frantically stop the man from bringing the food into the room for him. Phil was still laying in bed completely naked, the covers rucked down around his ankles, and it was definitely not a sight he wanted a random hotel employee to see. Or anyone other than Dan, for that matter.

Dan came back into the room, not carrying an overloaded tray or two like Phil had expected, but instead pushing a full cart of food and drinks. The smell was absolutely heavenly, and Phil was rapidly reminded of his growling stomach and lingering hangover; suddenly Dan pushing off continuing their bedroom in favor of food didn’t seem like such a terrible idea. Maybe by the time Phil devoured the absurd amount of grease, caffeine, and sweets on offer, he’d have the energy to really take care of Dan — to do so in a way that far more exciting than the lackluster handjob he’d been planning on earlier.

One by one, Dan moved plate after plate, drink after drink, from the cart to the bed until they were positively surrounded by a wonderful hangover feast.

Breakfast was delicious, and Phil’s half-asleep, groggy brain had done a sufficient job of picking out food for Dan. After practically chugging half of his espresso (in which Phil had dropped an ice cube from the water pitcher before Dan could burn his tongue for the millionth time), Dan turned excitedly to his veggie omelet, immediately launching into an explanation about how the reason that he’d been trying to cut back on eating meat recently was because Addie went vegan and inspired him to eat better.

Phil smiled, crunching on his bacon, and savored the calmness of this morning, Dan’s softness and passion, and the ease with which him and Dan had settled into everything. The food was good, undoubtedly helping soothe the subtle agony of his hangover. But even more than the food, Phil knew the relief was thanks to Dan — both his wonderful mouth and just his, well, everything. It was impossible to be anything other than happy and entirely content when he got to wake up with Dan, Phil was certain.

They ate for nearly an hour, trading bites of their meals, sipping on their coffee and chugging water. At some point, Dan had refilled his oversized espresso cup with more coffee from Phil’s pot, only briefly scowling at the subpar drink. Phil had been unable — and unwilling— to resist leaning in and kissing Dan’s scrunched nose, which had drawn a quiet laugh and a pink blush from Dan, much to Phil’s satisfaction.

Once the food was gone and the coffee had grown too cold for even Dan to drink, Phil moved the trays back to the cart. When Phil turned back around, he found himself frozen at the bottom of the bed, his movements coming to a crashing halt as his eyes swept over Dan, who’d stretched out enticingly across the whole bed, head on the pillows, feet stretched towards Phil. Dan was still wearing that damn fluffy robe, but sometime during their breakfast shenanigans, the tie had loosened and the cloth had separated so that his chest and thighs were on display, the fabric barely held together enough at Dan’s waist that his hips — and dick — were hidden from view.

“As great as breakfast was...” Dan drawled, one knee drawing up so the robe fell down and gave Phil an incredibly sexy glimpse of his arse. “There wasn’t nearly enough D vitamin. Maybe you can fix that?”

Phil choked, partially from the sheer absurdity of the line, and partially from the implications of what Dan was asking for. Swallowing thickly, Phil tried to maintain at least a bit of his composure and their banter.

“That was the worst line I’ve ever heard,” Phil teased, keeping his hands to himself even though the temptation to run his hands up Dan’s legs was nearly all-consuming.

“Well, sor-rrry,” Dan huffed, exasperated. “I didn’t realize I had to try very hard to get my boyfriend to fuck me.”

The flimsy dam of self-control that had been holding back Phil’s lust broke, and Phil reached out for Dan’s ankles, his hands immediately sliding up Dan’s calves.

“Mmm, you don’t,” Phil hummed, his hands skating ever higher up Dan’s legs. “All you have to do is ask.”

~*~*~*~*

The urgency, along with most — but by no means all — of Dan’s submissiveness, of last night had dissipated, but that didn’t make today any less hot. Today, Phil got to go slower, to take Dan bit by bit and piece him back together again one kiss at a time.

Hands roaming, Phil caressed Dan’s chest, Dan’s sides, Dan’s hair. Phil kissed everywhere he could reach, paying special attention to Dan’s neck because Dan really seemed to like that. Dan was pliant beneath Phil’s weight, his hips bucking when Phil nipped his collarbone, his back arching when Phil changed his angle. The room was filled with soft whimpers from Phil, pulled out of him every time Dan grazed his ear, and breathy moans from Dan, tumbling from his mouth each and every time Phil pushed in.

Everything was slow, easy, as they rocked together, their lips invariably drifting back together over and over again. They came seconds apart, Phil first, then Dan, heads buried in each others’ shoulders. Legs wrapped tightly around Phil’s waist, Dan held Phil close, not letting go. Blood sluggishly made its way back to Phil’s brain as he grew soft, still inside Dan, and the ability to properly think again slowly returned.

Oh, Phil realized, thinking back to last night, to all the times Dan had sucked him. Each and every time, Dan had held Phil in him as long as possible, not letting Phil go until he was soft again. Dan must like — really like — feeling Phil grow soft.

Smiling at the realization, at how intimate of a thing it was to like, Phil pressed a kiss to Dan’s shoulder. Slowly, Phil worked his way up Dan’s neck and back to Dan’s mouth.

~*~*~*~*

A while later, once their breath had finally returned to normal and their kisses languid, Phil dragged Dan out of bed and pulled him into the shower. Phil took the time to wash Dan’s hair and body for him, and relished in the quiet noises of contentment Dan let slip as Phil’s fingers massaged the soap into his scalp. Neither had the stamina, nor the energy, to go for another round in the shower, and Phil was surprised to find just how much he loved the domesticity of showering with Dan with absolutely no expectations of anything else. He knew he’d like it, of course — he’d always liked the domestic parts of relationships — but he didn’t expect it to feel as warm, as right as it did. Showering with Dan, shampooing his hair, being washed by him… every second of it made Phil so happy, and he never wanted to take another shower alone, even if they never had shower sex again.

Was it too soon to be thinking like that? They’d only known each other for a handful of months — and have officially been together for far less than that — but Phil had never felt this way before. It was more than just the blissful honeymoon of a new relationship; he was well acquainted with that rush.

No, this was definitely something more than that. The urge to make Dan smile, the willingness to do just about anything to make him happy, the deep feeling of contentment that settled in Phil’s stomach whenever he was around — none of those were typical beginning-of-relationship feelings. They weren’t even emotions Phil had felt during his longest and best relationships, although those were few and far between.

This thing with Dan was special, more than just… romantic. It was companionship, and trust, and deep compatibility. It was genuine appreciation of everything about each other. Dan had quickly become his best friend, and it was everything he didn’t know he’d been searching for.

Phil wanted to hold onto it — to their relationship, to Dan — forever, and he hoped Dan did, too, because Phil had no intentions of letting him go, of dialing it back. Phil was tempted to bring it up, to make it clear to Dan that he was here to stay for as long as Dan would have him, but Phil knew it was way too soon for that kind of declaration, especially given how panicked Dan had looked that first time he’d accidentally called Phil his boyfriend — and that hadn’t even been that long ago.

It was okay, Phil could wait. He didn’t need to say the words that were burning inside of him for them to be true, he didn’t have to say them out loud for Dan to be able to feel them.

***

“What do you want to do with the rest of our day?” Phil asked, mouthing along the base of Dan’s neck as Dan pulled on his pants.

“Honestly?” Dan tipped his head back, laying it on Phil’s shoulder, and sort of tried to make eye contact. Phil’s hands found Dan’s hips and pulled him backwards a bit, so his bare chest was pressed along Dan’s naked back. A soft, sharp inhale interrupted whatever Dan had been about to say.

“Honestly, what?” Phil prompted, his lips unrelenting in their path up and down the exposed side of Dan’s neck.

Dan laid his hands over Phil’s, their fingers tangling together. Tugging softly, Dan brought Phil’s hands to his stomach and sighed contently once he was fully wrapped up in Phil’s embrace.

“Honestly,” Dan whispered, his eyes falling shut. “I’d really like to totally detox from the outside world for a few hours and spend today just like this. Maybe work on music a bit, if you don’t mind.”

A soft smile took over Phil’s mouth, stopping him from properly being able to kiss Dan. “That sounds like a great afternoon, babe,” Phil murmured. Straightening up, Phil shuffled them closer to the bed, never letting Dan out of his arms. “I’ve got a video that I can edit. I’m sure a bit of guitar won’t be nearly as distracting as a nearly naked Dan Howell.” Phil rocked his hips against Dan’s arse to emphasize his point.

“Oh,” Dan gasped, sounding surprised. His hands tightened on Phil’s, and his hips pressed ever so slightly backwards. “Uh, actually,” he continued hoarsely. “I was probably just gonna, like, lit-rally write, ya know, in my journal.”

Phil untangled his hands from Dan’s and took a step back. “Whatever you want’s fine. If you change your mind, you won’t bother me.”

“Okay,” Dan mumbled quietly, grabbing his backpack and digging the familiar black notebook out. Phil turned to his own bag, crouching down to pull out his laptop and his favorite pair of headphones for editing — they were bulky, over-the-ear headphones, but they had great sound quality and really let him hear every noise in his videos.

Standing back up, Phil turned around to find Dan staring in his direction, looking a bit dazed. Phil cleared his throat, drawing Dan’s attention up to his eyes, and raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Sorry,” Dan said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “Got distracted enjoying the view.”

By this point, Dan had seen Phil in much more scandalous settings than bent over in a pair of tight grey pants, but Phil still felt his cheeks heat up at the thought of Dan so blatantly checking him out.

“You sure you’re going to be able to focus on work, Howell?” Phil teased; he hoped the banter would draw attention away from his red face.

“I’ll have you know, I’m perfectly capable of appreciating pretty things without constantly indulging, Lester.” Dan smirked, his gaze raking up and down Phil’s body before returning to his face, a mischievous glint in Dan’s eye. The lewd scrutiny only added to Phil’s blush.

“There is a first time for everything.” Phil tried to sound gravely serious, he really did, but the grin breaking through his somber expression surely ruined the effect. Giving in, Phil flashed Dan a proper, wide smile as he looped his headphones around his neck. Dan’s gaze tracked the movement, and flicked down to Phil’s computer, his eyes suddenly growing wide.

“Wait!” Dan exclaimed incredulously. “I thought we agreed no outside world! You can’t get on your computer!”

“Oh.” Phil’s eyebrows furrowed together. He hadn’t realized quite how serious Dan had been when he’d said he wanted to detox. Phil looked from his computer to Dan for a second, trying to think of a solution. He hadn’t touched his computer since they’d left London, and if he had any hopes of uploading anytime soon, he should really use this time to edit since Dan was going to be productive anyway.

“Oh!” Phil said again, this time his voice much lighter as realization struck him. He hadn’t touched his computer since he got here. “I haven’t connected to the wifi here, I could just… not?”

“Will that mess up editing for you?” Dan asked tentatively.

Phil thought through his video. Off the top of his head, he couldn’t think of any animations or sound effects he’d need that he didn’t already have. “I think I’ve got everything downloaded that I need. Definitely at least enough for a rough cut.”

Brows furrowed and head tilted, Dan eyed him skeptically.

“Honestly, I’m good for now,” Phil assured him. “I’ll let you know if that changes, though.”

Dan nodded, face relaxing. “Sounds good,” he agreed. Dan pressed a chaste peck to Phil’s cheek before swiping the hotel pen off the desk and crawling back into the bed. Holding back for just a second, Phil watched Dan settle, the corners of his lips twitching up into a faint smile as he watched Dan fluff the pillows and pull the blankets up to his waist, bending his knees and tucking his feet against his arse so his thighs served as a makeshift vertical table for his notebook.

Phil wondered if this was how Dan wrote when he was alone, if this was how Dan curled up in his own bed to de-stress after a long spout of public-facing events. For months, Phil had longed for these intimate insights into Dan’s life, and now that he had them, he couldn’t help wanting to look for a minute longer, to savor seeing Dan in a way he hadn’t been able to before.

Perhaps Phil got too lost in his thoughts, because Dan looked up from his journal and cocked an eyebrow at Phil.

“Are you planning to join me in bed, or just stand there all afternoon?” Dan teased, smirking at Phil and batting his eyes in a way that he had to know was far too seductive considering he was just asking Phil to come to bed, not come to bed.

Exasperated — but deeply enamored — by Dan’s antics, Phil closed his eyes and shook his head, letting out a huff of air that was definitely a little too close to a snort to be attractive. When Phil was sure he’d recovered his composure, he opened his eyes again, immediately seeking out Dan.

“You’re a piece of work, Howell,” Phil mumbled fondly, smiling softly. Dan shrugged his shoulders and flashed Phil an equally smitten smile. He looked like he might say something, probably something cheeky and unbearably cute like but I’m your piece of work, if Phil had to guess. Right now, though, Phil wasn’t sure he could handle Dan saying something like that — at least not without responding with something too big, too emotional, too soon for the moment.

So Phil tossed his computer on his pillow and inelegantly clambered into the bed, quickly pressing a kiss to Dan’s lips to cut off whatever he’d prepared to say. Leaning back against his half of the headboard, Phil pulled his headphones over his ears and set to work on his video, not quite able to erase the small grin on his lips or quell the lingering butterflies in his stomach.

Silently, Dan and Phil worked side by side for much of the afternoon. They fell into the same routine of their productive skype calls and afternoons at B&G. Except today, they had the benefit of not only being able to occasionally look up and smile softly at each other, but also the ability and freedom to reach out and touch whenever and however they wanted.

The touches started small, infrequent — Dan’s head tipping onto Phil’s shoulder for a few seconds as he chewed on his pen, a sure sign that he was grappling with the words in his head; Phil running his fingers through Dan’s hair whenever his computer took a moment to load or save.

As the afternoon wore on, though, the touches became more — more frequent, more lingering, more constant. Phil let his left hand stay tangled in Dan��s curls, lightly massaging, and clumsily edited with just one hand. Dan lowered his right leg, balancing his notebook a bit precariously on just his left thigh, and shuffled closer to Phil so that they were pressed together from hip to ankle. Eventually, Dan’s leg shifted again, this time looping over Phil’s so they were intertwined. And a bit later, Phil realized that the warm weight of Dan’s head hadn’t lifted from his shoulder for at least half an hour, even though Dan was still furiously writing.

Smiling softly, Phil pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Dan’s head and let his arm fall around Dan’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Dan hummed contently, just barely loud enough for Phil to hear through his headphones, and snuggled in, twisting around so both knees fell across Phil’s thighs, his little black book nudging against the edge of Phil’s computer.

Everything about this moment, this afternoon, was so unbelievably domestic, so extraordinarily ordinary. It was just the two of them, working on their respective jobs; Phil piecing together footage and adding in special effects to create his art, Dan writing and scribbling and writing and scribbling to create his.

Phil clicked save, not wanting the program to crash and lose all of his progress — that’d happened one too many times over the years. While the mouse pinwheeled, Phil turned his full attention to Dan, relieved to have a bit of a break. Dan was far too engrossed in his work to notice that Phil had stopped clicking around on his computer and was instead focused on Dan. Phil watched, just observing, as Dan flipped back and forth between two pages, studying the mess of words on the first page and scrawling new words on the second page. It was nice, to experience Dan working with such intense concentration first hand, to get to see it and feel it in person.

Although Phil’s gaze settled on Dan’s hands, he didn’t try to read what Dan was working on. He knew Dan would share it when he was ready. Besides, even if Phil had wanted to steal a peek at whatever Dan was writing, the pages were far too much of a mess for Phil to be able to sneakily read over his shoulder.

The first page — the one Phil assumed was a draft — was covered in words, writing going not just left to right, but up and down and diagonally, and Phil was pretty sure there were even upside down words at the very bottom of the paper. The second page was far less chaotic, but no more readable; Dan’s handwriting was truly abysmal and it would surely take a lot more effort to decipher than Phil could get away with.

Turning his attention back to his computer, Phil went back to editing. He worked quietly, playing and replaying different versions of a particular line, trying to decide which take he liked most. It was as Phil was rewinding, searching for the beginning of what he was fairly certain was the best option, that he heard Dan humming. Phil stilled, straining his ears to listen to Dan, pausing the clip so he could hear better. Phil’s headphones were too fancy, though; they drowned out almost all the noise, the tune just a faint hum that he could barely make out.

Subtly, or at least he hoped subtly, Phil knocked the right ear — the ear facing away from Dan — of his headphones off his ear, pretending to scratch his temple to disguise the movement. Phil tried not to draw attention to himself, to the fact that he was undeniably trying to eavesdrop at this point, and aimlessly started clicking around on his computer, muting the volume so that On-Screen Phil didn’t overshadow Dan.

Phil’s efforts to hide his actions proved to be entirely unnecessary, though; Dan was wrapped up in his own little world, completely oblivious to the fact that he’d drawn attention to himself.

Whatever Dan was humming, it was the same few seconds of a tune, hummed over and over again under Dan’s breath. It wasn’t a familiar tune, certainly not any one of Dan’s songs that Phil had heard, and Phil suspected that it was supposed to go with the lyrics Dan was working on.

If this was a skype call, Phil wondered, would Dan have muted his microphone?

Phil focused on the mmm-mm-mm-m mmm-mmm-mm melody, trying to imagine how Dan might use it, how it might fit into the concept of his new album, what he might be writing about this morning. The tune sounded upbeat, although maybe Phil only thought that because he could see the small smile pulling at Dan’s lips as he hummed it.

Phil wondered what it was about, if it was about him, about them. If it was about last night, dirtily grinding in an anonymous club. If it was about sex, sweaty eager bodies coming together in the middle of the night.

Dan had written about sex before, belted out lyrics that had earned his albums an explicit content warning in front of hundreds of thousands of people — probably without even a shred of embarrassment, too.

Just thinking about Dan writing (and singing, and performing) those kinds of lyrics about Phil made his cheeks burn hot. Unlike the other times Dan had released salacious music, the world — or at least some of it — would be able to tell who Dan was singing about.

It would be very off-brand, the world knowing that innocent AmazingPhil grinds and fucks and gets fucked.

But, then again, Phil thought back to the videos he posted in the beginning, when his channel had been small and youtube was still a mostly undiscovered corner of the burgeoning internet — videos Phil had filmed when he’d been a young and horny mess, desperately hoping that the right boy would watch and want him.

The right boy hadn’t watched, and he wouldn’t for another decade. Lots of wrong ones had, though.

A lot of those videos weren’t on his channel anymore. Some he’d deleted, some were just set to private now, but Phil knew it was all still out there, captured eternity in gifs and reposts and personal downloads. No matter how carefully Phil cultivated a family-friendly image, there would forever be evidence to the contrary.

Evidence so damningly sexual that Dan had jacked off to it. Even just thinking about it embarrassed Phil — even if it turned him on, too.

The AmazingPhil branding could take a hit, especially if it meant hearing more confessions like that from Dan.

“Phil!” A sharp voice broke abruptly through Phil’s thoughts, an impatient hand knocking Phil’s headphones off his ears.

Startled, Phil tore his unfocused eyes away from his computer and whipped his head around to face Dan.

“Did’ya get lost in your head, Philly?” Dan teased.

“Wha? No — I, um.” Phil’s voice came out high, squeaky, and his cheeks heated up again, or maybe they’d never calmed down from earlier. God, Phil really didn’t want to have to admit where his thoughts had been just seconds ago. “I was listening to a clip, uh, trying to decide if it was too long.”

“Riiight,” Dan drawled without even a hint of conviction. Dan’s eyes flicked to Phil’s laptop pointedly, and when Phil followed his gaze, he realized his computer screen had gone dark.

Much to his dismay, Phil was caught.

“I, um, I. I was…” Phil grappled for an explanation for why he’d just been sitting there, evidently for quite a while too, but his brain was muddled and the thoughts from earlier were still lingering, and he couldn’t think straight.

Dan pressed a kiss to Phil’s mouth and effectively shut him up, pulling back before Phil could kiss back. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Dan muttered, his lips so close to Phil’s that he could feel every word.

Phil tipped his head forward, wanting to close the minuscule distance and properly kiss Dan, but he was a second too late. Before Phil could make contact, Dan pulled away, his head returning to its place on Phil’s shoulder.

“Now, for the billionth time, can you please hand me my phone?” Dan whined, his voice laced with laughter.

Pushing his computer into Dan’s lap, Phil stretched out so he could reach the nightstand and unplugged Dan’s phone.

“Are you done detaching from the world?” Phil asked as he settled back into Dan, handing him his phone.

“Detoxing,” Dan corrected, already in the process of turning the device on and shuffling into a seated position. “And no. Just need the voice memo thing.”

“Ah,” Phil acknowledged distantly. He was too distracted, too curious, to say much else. Phil’s arms felt less warm, useless even, without Dan in them, but the view of Dan’s bare back as he leaned forward was nice (not quite as nice as the view of Dan’s face, but nice all the same).

Dan, for his part, was apparently too wrapped up in what he was doing to notice Phil’s lack of response — or heavy gaze peeping over his shoulder. Bypassing all notifications, Phil watched Dan swipe to the second screen and open the voice memo app.

The app loaded, and Phil saw that Dan had hundreds of memos — or at least Phil assumed he did, given that the top one was labeled “New Recording 347”. Some of them, but not many, were labeled. There was one called ly, and a little further down, one called tmiaw. At the very bottom of the screen, Phil noticed one called for phil, and Phil wondered what that one was, if it was one that Dan had sent him already. Peering closer, Phil tried to read the date it was created, hoping for a clue, but Dan pressed the red button and for phil disappeared from view.

Holding the phone flat in front of his face, Dan hummed the melody that had caught Phil’s attention earlier. It started out quietly, just barely louder than when Dan had been humming it under his breath. After a full cycle through the beat, though, Dan grew in volume and started to sway his head with the tune.

“Mmmm-mmm-mm-m, mmm-mmm-mm.” Pause. “Mmmm-mmm-mm-m, mmm-mmm-mm.” Pause. “Mmm-mmm-mm. Mmm-mmm-mm.”

Phil hung back, mesmerized at how Dan was getting lost in the song. Again, the question of what if this was a skype call flitted through Phil’s mind. He was glad he didn’t have to find out.

Gradually, Dan started swaying his shoulders with his head, bopping his whole upper body in time with the melody, until suddenly, he was well and truly into it. When Dan started the tune over, Dan changed it up — this time, Dan wasn’t quite humming, he was almost singing. It was still wordless, but now it was a loud and confident melody that was coming from deep in Dan’s throat — the same place that Dan’s deep moans came from when Phil sucked on his neck just right.

It didn’t even sound that much like moaning, but Phil’s imagination was perfectly capable of making the leap, and he didn’t know how he’d manage to keep his composure if he ever had to listen to Dan do that with his voice in public.

Still not singing any words, Dan added to the melody, throwing in a few quick mm-mm-mms before stopping the recording. Dan unceremoniously chucked his phone on the bed, as if that hadn’t been the most intriguing forty-five seconds of Phil’s life.

“Now that that’s out of my head, I can finally stop worrying about forgetting it.” Dan sighed in relief, collapsing backwards into Phil’s arms and closing his eyes. In his lap, his hand relaxed its grip on his notebook.

His open notebook.

Phil knew he shouldn’t read it, no matter how close and convenient and right there it was, no matter how curious Phil was, no matter how much he wanted to know where Dan’s head was at right now.

Dan’s eyes were still closed, his head tipped back to face the ceiling, and Phil let his curious gaze drift down to the notebook. Not reading, he told himself. Just observing.

Or, at least, he was just observing until his eyes caught on a familiar string of words halfway down the page.

i like me better when im with you

Dan had said that — Dan had said that to Phil just a few days ago, curled up in his arms during the afterglow of a fight. It had been sweet and cute when Dan had said it; Phil had felt a rush of happiness and adoration at the time.

And now it was here, in Dan’s special notebook, a part of whatever he’d written today.

Phil still found it cute, it still made him feel warm inside, but seeing it in words, written down on paper... it was a whole new level of emotion.

Chewing on his lip, Phil grappled with the urge to read more, to figure out the context for Dan writing that. It’s not like he wouldn’t know eventually anyways. Hell, in the grand scheme of time, the whole world would know in an instant. What did it matter if Phil peeked just a little early?

Plus, Dan had left the book open — was holding it open, actually. That was new. All the times in the past, even since Phil learned about the concept, Dan had held the book close, had sheltered it from Phil’s view, had snapped it shut as soon as he was done. Every time, that is, except the time Dan had scribbled Phil’s own words into it, had immediately spun it around to excitedly show Phil.

Suddenly, curiosity was burning in Phil’s veins, and before he knew what he was doing, he was going back to the top, desperate to read everything that Dan had written.

He didn’t make it far before his whole heart caught on fire again — he made it to the end of the first line, to be exact.

to be young and in love in new york city

In love.

The words brought Phil up short, made his heart pound in his chest, erased every thought from his mind that wasn’t one word.

Love.

Phil’s breath hitched in his throat, letting out far too loud of a noise for his comfort. For a moment, Phil didn’t move, certain that he’d drawn too much attention to himself, that Dan would tell him to kindly fuck off. There was no way Dan hadn’t heard that, not with how quiet the room was.

But Dan kept holding the book open and stayed laying back against Phil, so Phil read on.

to not know who I am but still know that i’m good long as you're here with me to be drunk and in love in new york city

Phil’s heart hammered harder, this time a swarm of butterflies joining in. Dan had been writing about last night, just as Phil suspected, but he had picked an entirely different moment — a different emotion — to capture than Phil had anticipated.

It wasn’t about grinding or making out or fucking.

It was about wandering New York’s streets in the dark, drunkenly supporting each other on the walk back to their hotel room. It was about kissing under the blurry lights of Manhattan, completely ignoring the world around them. It was about hands wrapping around waists and heads resting on shoulders and lips softly pressing kisses to foreheads.

No, it wasn’t about any of the filthy, raunchy, unbelievably sexy moments at all. It was about loving.

Phil kept reading, he couldn’t not at this point.

midnight into morning coffee burning through the hours talking

i like me better when im with you i like me better when im with you i knew from the first time, i'd stay for a long time 'cause i like me better when - i like me better when im with you

Phil took a deep breath, his eyes focusing on stay for a long time, his mind supplying endless images of what that might look like — more mornings at B&G, but also more mornings waking up in the same bed. More nights falling asleep watching tv together, but maybe next time in bed, on purpose.

i don't know what it is but i got that feeling waking up in this bed next to you swear the room, it got no ceiling if we lay, let the day just pass us by i might get to too much talking i might have to tell you something

Phil swallowed thickly, his mind immediately supplying what Dan was implying. The words were loud in his own head, three small syllables itching to tumble out of his mouth, to voice what they were clearly both thinking.

Ripping his gaze from the lyrics, Phil turned back to Dan, only to find that Dan’s eyes were no longer closed, his head no longer tilted up towards the ceiling.

No, now Dan was looking directly at Phil, carefully watching him, a small smile pulling at his lips. The notebook was still open — Dan had been holding it open for Phil the entire time.

Phil smiled. He might have been smiling before, he probably was given how happy he felt thinking about Dan’s lyrics, but now he was smiling so widely that his cheeks hurt and his eyes were crinkling and there was a fullness in his throat that he couldn’t quite make go away.

“It’s gorgeous,” Phil managed.

“Yeah?” Dan asked timidly, despite the way he was smiling so widely that both of his dimples were showing.

“Yeah,” Phil echoed back, barely more than a murmur.

Leaning in, Phil cupped Dan’s cheek and slowly guided their lips together. He kissed him long and slow, trying to pour all of his appreciation, all of his agreement, into the kiss. Dan dropped the notebook, his hands grabbing Phil’s waist and holding him steady, kissing Phil back just as eagerly.

Finally, Phil pulled back, just barely, and opened his eyes. Dan was so, so close, his eyelashes fanned across his cheeks, his breath blowing hot air across Phil’s lips. Phil dragged his thumb over Dan’s cheek, relishing the feeling of the soft pink skin under his fingers. Dan’s eyes fluttered open, and then they were both smiling again.

The three words were still there, right on the tip of Phil’s tongue. It was too soon, ridiculously too fast considering Dan had said he wanted to go slow.

So instead, Phil whispered, “for the record, I like me better when I’m with you, too.”

And maybe they weren’t those three words, but they were just as true.

______________________

EDIT: a/n -- i forgot credit the song to the incredible lauv when i first posted (oops!) and link this very important video where you can hear him do the voice thing that inspired dan doing it!

[enchantedbride]

The First Meeting, In a Cafe  (Leon/Joey Shorts 1/???)

Tagging: @lovely-selfships, @foreveryours-mouse, @charliedoyleloves

(Let me know if you wish to be tagged in this series or any other self-ship writing of mine! I’m more than happy to do it so the people who want to see my stuff can find it more easily.)

Fandom: Pokemon SwSh

Rating: SFW

Warnings: None (But later stories will includes depictions of struggling with depression and mentions of past self-harm, suicidal ideation, and childhood emotional abuse and will be tagged when said topics come up)

There was an unsteady rhythm to the rapping of her fingers against the table as her eyes anxiously flitted back to her phone. The side patio of the Cafe had less of the chatter from other patrons as inside, but that was simply replaced by the patter of footsteps against the sidewalks and the occasional dull whir of an engine as a vehicle sped by. The smell of coffee drifted outside from the side door, causing a small sigh to escape her.

Lee was getting close to being half an hour late. She was already sweating bullets about this situation before, but the fact he was late made it worse. 

Joey wasn’t sure to begin with that coming all the way to the Galar region to crash with a friend she only knew online was a good idea. Luckily he seemed more than happy to meet up with her in a public place so they could meet each other in person before she committed to this. 

And should he turn out to be a creep, she had a friend of hers keeping a watchful eye. Not that she thought Lee was likely to be a creep, but on the off chance, it was better to be prepared.

That might not be necessary though if he didn’t even show up.

“Blas?” Claudia, her Blastoise, shifted impatiently in her spot next to her at the table. The two had been together practically since Joey’s infancy, so it took little effort for Joey to understand her partner Pokemon’s state.

“I know. It’s really getting to be late. He sent me a text saying he was running late, but still.”

“Blastoise...”

“I’m starting to wonder if this was worth it,” Joey thought aloud. “On the other hand, I guess I am glad for the change of scenery. Even if it winds up being for only a couple of days instead of a few weeks.”

Motostoke had a charm to it, with it’s steam-powered moving platforms and the the little shops that lined the streets. Some buildings were newer, styled much like the modern towering skyscrapers of Castelia City back in Unova from where she came. But many were older and not imposing in the same way, with brick and stone exteriors. 

It would be dishonest of her if she didn’t admit she wanted to explore the place more.

I shouldn’t even really be on this trip, though, she scolded herself. If it weren’t for the fact I literally can’t go back to work for the next few weeks, that’s where I would be. Where I should be. 

Joey turned her gaze back to her coffee, starting to get lost in her own thoughts again. She would wait a little while longer. But only a little while.

A few moments passed, and the relative quiet was interrupted by the sound of a stomach gurgling. 

“Blas...Blastoise?” Joey looked up to see Claudia’s expression shift to something that appeared more pained as she briefly patted her belly.

“Oh dear,” Joey remarked, “Are you hungry, Claudia? It is past lunchtime now.”

The Blastoise nodded in agreement. “Blas.” 

“I know Lemon treats are your favorite, there were some in the case back inside. I could get some if you like?”

Claudia nodded with more enthusiasm at the suggestion. 

“Okay. I’ll be right back. Can you mind the table while I’m gone?”

“Blastoise!” 

“Thanks, Claudia. I’m really sorry about all of this.” Joey got up from the table and pushed in her seat, taking her phone with her but leaving Claudia behind. She only planned to be gone for a few minutes. Unfortunately, the line inside told her that it might be longer then that. 

Joey sighed, briefly looking back before she glanced down to her phone.

No new DMs, she observed. The last message displayed was from fifteen minutes ago.

Sorry Helix, I’m running late! I’m having trouble finding the Cafe. I promise I’ll try to be there as soon as possible.

Joey got in line and began a second waiting game in addition to the one she was already playing. If Lee does show up, it’s going to be a bit strange to start calling each other by our real names, she thought. Up until now, we’ve only known each other by our internet nicknames. 

They also didn’t know what the other looked or sounded like. It might very well be quite the surprise for both of them. Although if Joey were being honest, she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. 

Lee had been a kind, goofy and excitable sort in the several months the two corresponded. But what stood out with him was his ability to support and encourage others and to take difficult situations with grace. His friendship had been invaluable to her. 

Perhaps this was a major part of what made her nervous. He’d come to be an important fixture in her life. If things didn’t turn out well or he wasn’t as he appeared, it would hurt. 

Joey continued to wait as the line slowly dwindled and she moved closer to the counter little by little. Occasionally she would look at her phone for new messages, but there was nothing. Otherwise she kept her focus on the lemon treats as they sat at the front of the display case by the service counter. 

They look delicious, she thought. Claudia’s going to love them!

She was nearing the service counter, and eventually it was her turn to order. She asked for a pair of lemon treats and paid for them before they were taken from the case and handed to her. Joey stepped to the side to let the next person approach, and turned to make her way back to the patio. But then, she heard a voice from near the front door of the cafe.

“Excuse me. I didn’t see you there, please forgive me.”

“Oh, Champion! Don’t worry about it. Please, go ahead. I was actually about to go sit down.”

Joey turned her head. Champion? Her eyes briefly went wide. Recognition flared up as she saw a tall man perhaps a little bit younger than her with long violet hair close the door behind him and make his way further in. 

Oh! That’s the champion of the Galar Pokemon league, Leon! Joey found a big grin pulling at her face. Lee’s such a big fan of his and collects all sorts of merch. I bet he’d be so stoked if he knew Leon was here. 

Joey observed him for a moment, noticing that he started to walk off to the side and pull out his phone. Catching herself a moment, she chided herself mentally a bit for being nosy and tried to redirect herself to go back to her table on the patio. She began her stride, but found herself stopped as she felt her phone begin to vibrate in the pocket of her sweatshirt.

Joey pulled out her phone to see a notification lighting up the screen.

It’s Lee! Talk about timing...

She opened up her phone too see the text in detail. 

I’m finally here! Again, I’m so sorry for being late. Where are you sitting? I’ll come find you. 

He’s here? She looked over but saw nobody had come in since Leon. Maybe he came in just before? There were a few other people who came in while I was waiting in line. 

I’m actually just got a snack for Claudia and was about to head back to the table on the patio, she typed back in reply. Why don’t you wave and I’ll come find you? If you see a  gremlin in an Umbreon hoodie coming towards you, that’s me. 

Joey kept her phone in hand, while holding the bag of lemon treats in the other. She began to look around the cafe for someone waving there hand. It was a moment or two, but eventually her eyes caught sight of someone waving their hand, and a pair of amber eyes looking back at her.

A startled response briefly overtook her and she blurted out in response to seeing who was waving back at her.

“WHAT-” she stopped as she spotted multiple gazes now pointed in her direction, almost crumbling inward in embarrassment.  She began to approach, clutching her phone and treats tightly as her feet briskly brought her forward.

The person waving at her was Leon. And she couldn’t brush it off as a coincidence when he was the only one waving and he was looking right at her. Joey excused herself as walked past someone in the line. This can’t be right, she argued with herself. Lee can’t be Leon. It doesn’t make sense!

She finally stopped in front of him, attempting to compose herself. Her reaction probably didn’t come as that much of a surprise. But he probably thought it was because she didn’t expect the friend she’d been corresponding with all these months was a celebrity. But it had more to do with the fact she didn’t expect someone to collect their own merchandise. 

And perhaps the fact she had more assumptions about him than she thought.

“Are you Helix?” he asked. She wasn’t very good at reading people, but she could at least gather that he was anticipating her response.

“Yeah,” she replied, “In the flesh. Although I generally go by Joey in real life.” She began to put her phone back in her pocket as she tried to meet his eyes as closely as she could without causing herself discomfort. Eye contact was always hard for her, but she especially didn’t want to obviously be avoiding it for the moment. “Are you Lee?”

“Joey,” he repeated her name with noticeable enthusiasm and a smile before his expression shifted to a more apologetic one. “It’s nice to meet you in person. I want to apologize again for keeping you so long. If it weren’t for Charizard I probably wouldn’t have gotten here.” He blinked in realization before he cleared his throat, almost as if he was nervous. “I’m Lee. Or Leon, as you’ve probably figured out.”

“You know it fits in a lot of ways,” Joey admitted as the reality of the situation began to sink in, “But, certain things don’t add up. Namely, I wouldn’t have thought you would be an avid collector of your own merch!”

Leon chuckled.

“I wasn’t at first. I started getting it for my little brother, Hop in the beginning. But I was so impressed with all the things my fans created that I guess I started wanting some for myself as well.”

Joey nodded. “I see. So ChampionHour was a way for you to quietly look for things you thought Hop would like and then it became a way for you to quietly interact with your own fandom and various Pokemon centric groups online.”

“I guess it did. I mean, I have a more public account that I use in a more official capacity but... yes.” Leon answered as his eyes wandered towards the side door. “So you said your table was out on the patio?”

“Yeah. Guarded by my three thousand pound Blastoise. Can’t miss it.”

“I see,” he laughed. “You mentioned Claudia would be with you for security. I understand why. All the same, I’m glad to meet both you and your partner Pokemon. Did you bring any of your other Pokemon with you?”

“Corti’s in her Pokeball but everyone else is back at the hotel or in the box system,” Joey replied as she gestured to her pockets. Cortana, or Corti for short, was Joey’s Raichu, and her other closest partner besides Claudia. “And I’m glad to meet you too. Although to be honest I was worried you weren’t going to show up, and well... as is obvious, I didn’t put two and two together.”

“Honestly I’m not surprised and I don’t think you should fault yourself. I think a lot of people wouldn’t have thought to consider it,” he answered as he followed her outside. “Especially with a nickname as blatant as Lee. Actually I chose it because it’s the nickname Hop calls me.”

“I see. That makes sense considering you originally made your account to look for stuff for him,” Joey considered.

“And again, I really am sorry,” he repeated, “I’ve never been great at finding my way around, even in places I’ve been to a million times. But I shouldn’t have kept you waiting. I understand if you’re miffed.”

“I am a little, I won’t lie,” she confessed. “But you’re here now and I accept your apology. So don’t worry too much about it, alright?”

“I’ll try not to.” He smiled. “Also I’m glad you didn’t wait to get something for yourself.”

“Oh this?” Joey held up the bag. “Oh I mainly got this for Claudia. But... I should probably eat too.” At that moment Joey felt her stomach softly burbling. 

“That sounds like a good idea,” he replied with a small chuckle. he looked up and his smile widened. “Ah! I see my partner has found yours just fine.”

“Hm?” Joey looked over to see that next to Claudia was another Pokemon. Specifically, a Charizard. “Oh! Right, you mentioned your Charizard helped you find your way here.”

My friend Lee is Leon, she processed. And that’s his Charizard talking to Claudia. Whatever I might have expected deep down, it wasn’t this. 

Charizard and Claudia appeared to be having a lively conversation, although both quickly looked up when Joey and Leon came to the table. Claudia huffed at Leon before she tilted her head sighed softly towards Joey. Charizard snorted looking quite amused.

“I know Claudia. He did say he was sorry though,” Joey answered her Blastoise. “It looks like you and Charizard are both mutually annoyed from the looks of it. Can I take that as a sign the two of you are getting along?”

Charizard let out a low rumble of agreement. 

“Thanks for getting us here, Charizard,” Leon said to his friend before addressing Claudia, “ I should say sorry to you too, though.”

“Blas.” Claudia nodded in acceptance before her eyes caught the paper bag with treats. “Blastoise! Blas?”

“Yeah! I got us both one. Here-” Joey pulled out a treat from the bag and handed it to Claudia. “Thanks for being so patient, friend. Hope it’s good!”

“I haven’t exactly made a good first impression, have I? I know you’re already nervous about the prospect of staying with my in my loft over your leave.”

Joey frown, finally visibly averting her gaze. “To be honest, I think I’d be nervous whether you were late or not.”

“Because we never met in real life until now. Although I imagine knowing who I am now probably doesn’t help things.”

“Well...” Joey began to rub the back of her neck. “Maybe a little.”

“You don’t need to downplay it,” he assured her, “But I know you well enough to know you won’t treat me differently because I’m a public figure and a celebrity, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I guess there’s no sweeping that under the rug, huh?” she sighed. “I guess there’s a bit more to talk about than where I’d be sleeping and what’s off limits in your fridge if I agree to this.” 

At this Leon laughed. “You can take anything in my fridge you like,” he replied, “There are more things to talk about yes. But what I said before we agreed to meet here still holds true. You’re my friend and I want to help. But I also want you to be comfortable. If for any reason you decide your not comfortable, I want you to assert yourself, okay?” He was gentle but firm. “That includes asserting you’d rather return to Unova.”

A moment of clarity cut through the haze of unreality she was feeling at the situation. He was talking just like her did in their DMs with each other. Only the difference now was he was physically here and she could hear his voice. 

That was perhaps unreal in its own way. 

He really was her friend, Lee. 

“I appreciate it,” she replied. “So, then, I guess we should figure out what to talk about first then.”

[unordinary-analysis]

Episode 132

Best *clap* chapter *clap* ever

Okjnskfjhskjhfikjhgjsikhg I can barely tybe right now. I’m s h a k i n g.

Honorable mentions:

Happy that Leilah’s coming back

Also i thought she was at work not at some beach vacation wth

Where’d Elaine go? She just disappeared.

There’s this one specific panel in this episode about halfway through that’s a view kind of through John’s eyes and he has Arlo’s shirt grabbed with both his hands. Yeh, that one. I just noticed that Alro looks like he’s about to cry.

Because I don’t know how to put my ideas forward in any other way, I’m going to be doing a compare and contrast kind of thing. First, I will talk about John’s side and his argument. Then, Arlo’s. I’m so excited lets go.

Before reading know that in each section, I talk in favor of their mindset. So stuff I’ve written will be true, but will only be half of the story as I would have written the counter-argument in the other person’s p.o.v.. Don’t just read the John section and come after me with how great and right Arlo is. I already know. Please keep reading. Thank you :)

John’s point of view:

John’s argument (? i don’t know what to call it): John is v e x e d because of a few things. Firstly, he’s angry at Arlo for not telling him that he was looking for Sera. Next, he says that it was totally okay for him to beat up Isen. He’s mad because Arlo wouldn’t let him step away from the calm and quiet life he had built for himself. Lastly, he’s angry with Arlo for praising the hierarchy, but at the same time, not listening to John, who is according to Arlo’s rules, a higher authority. As a final statement, John says that he will ruin down Arlo’s precious hierarchy just like Arlo ruined his life (not his exact phrasing, but I like to make things dramatic). That’s a lot of stuff to get into, so let’s get started.

When Arlo turned down John’s request for help in his search for Seraphina, he decided to do his own investigation. Thing is, he didn’t tell John and the whole time that Arlo was finding out information, John was running around desperate to help his friend and one of the only people that could help him and the one that had figured out the most had already turned him down and deliberately done his own search. I would be pissed too. I mean really, Arlo was approached by John and asked if they could combine their powers to complete their mutual goal. But, nooo. Arlo had to deny him and do it himself, also doing his best to inconvenience John.

In regard to Isen’s beating, John has a point. In the past, Isen has lied to John, rudely invaded his privacy and stalked him back to when he was at New Bostin, and hurt John. Despite everyone’s mutual love for Isen (the fandom, not the characters lol), he kind of deserved some sort of beating. His actions are sneaky and self-serving. Isen is thought of as the poor cinnamon bun that is always put in the middle of things. Digging up dirt on John, becoming head of the newspaper, the whole superhero thing with Remi, looking for Sera. But in truth, Isen is put in many of these situations because of his own actions (mostly Arlo’s but even then, John’s side becomes more powerful). True, when requested by Arlo to investigate John, he could hardly turn it down, but the extent that Isen takes his interrogation too was uncalled for and unprofessional. He asked invasive questions and went after John without a thought for the guy. He was only put in charge of the newspaper because Arlo knew he could control Isen and the two could conspire together. He knew that Isen would easily give up information and would leak false information because Isen had ambition to lead the newspaper and Arlo had granted it, but also because Isen has tried to obstruct information in the past to secure his own well-being. Though many of the poorly thought up plans and questionable conspiracies he’s been a part of have been conducted by others, Isen always holds a little blame. His actions are usually always self-preserving and sly, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but because of the harm his actions have indirectly caused, Isen is in no way innocent. I know I went pretty off topic, but I just really wanted to say this. So yeah, Isen kind of deserved the beating….

Also dealing with his beating, technically John is a higher tier than Isen and high-tiers are practically encouraged to establish their authority over those weaker than them. Arlo’s whole problem with John is that he doesn’t, but is John not doing just that when he attacks Isen? Is he not acting like how Arlo thinks he should?

Also, when Tuesday first approaches John, he refers to it as a rank-match. If this qualifies as a rank-match there’s really nothing wrong (kind of similar to above point, but still gotta say.

Finally moving along lol.

Now we’re at the part where John gets mad at Arlo because he disrupted his perfectly peaceful life as a cripple for the belief that all high-tiers should have to be in charge and are separate from everyone else. John isn’t kidding with this. Arlo seriously walked right into John’s life because he hung out with Sera, a god-tier, and Arlo didn’t feel that this was right. That’s it. The whole reason. Arlo didn’t like that Seraphina was hanging out with a low-tier and that’s how this entire drama started. And John had really tried to step away from the high-tier life. After the disaster at New Bostin, he knew that if he ever was in charge again, he wouldn’t be able to put himself in check. He’s already gone through the royalty bullshit system. He tried that already. And he discovered that he couldn’t handle it, not because he was weak or didn’t want the responsibility, but because of what it did to the students around him. John gave up on the hierarchy because in his experience, it brought out the worst in everybody. It brought out the demons in him, it’s brought out the need to be perfect in Seraphina. When he was last involved with the hierarchy, bad stuff happened. John stepped away from that life, he stepped into the light. He was prepared to live life treated as a cripple, spat upon and looked down on to protect himself and others. And everyone was happy! Until Arlo came and ruined it all because he didn’t like his friends hanging out with the riff-raff. Until he ruined it all by invading his privacy. Until he ruined it all by demanding that John come back to the system that ruined his life.

You would think that after all that, Arlo would at least respect the system today. He would understand that there are two parts to the hierarchy that he promotes so much. According to the hierarchy, Arlo has to listen to John. I’ve already covered this briefly when talking about Isen, but now I’m doing it again (brief again too sorry). John tells Arlo as much; that he has to listen to him, but when it’s addressed, Arlo calls it trivial! So I guess the system is only important when Arlo says it is, huh?

We’ve reached the near end of John’s perspective, but there’s one last, and very important, thing to say. John said he was going to break the hierarchy. I have no idea what this is gonna mean. I don’t think he’s gonna reveal himself, but maybe he’ll use his new influence/fear as Tuesday to mess with the students or maybe he’ll do something with Cecile. Whatever it is, I’m hyped.

Not as hyped as I am to write the Arlo section tho ;) (segway).

Arlo’s point of view:

I’m going to address all of the points made above. Because I’ve already explained them above, I won’t go into as much detail, I will just list a reason or two as that supports Arlo’s arguments.

1.) Arlo not telling John that he was looking for Sera

- John was a complete asshole and by agreeing with him and aiding John in his search for Seraphina, that seem to others that Arlo agreed with things John did or that he listened to everything he said, which would ruin the hierarchy. So because of his hatred for John, his pride, and his protectiveness over the hierarchy system, Arlo could not morally help John.

2.) The Isen thing.

- John attacked his friend seemingly for his ability alone! Even if Isen had been a prick to John, he definitely took the beating way too far.

3.) Why Arlo doesn’t listen to John

- He’s an asshole

- He never properly dethroned him and claimed the throne, leaving Arlo as rightful king

- He’s got more important stuff to worry about

- Some of what John is asking is destructive to Wellston and Arlo won’t stand by that

And now, John’s biggest argument: (which i will go fully into)

Arlo’s love for the hierarchy and what it did to him, John, and everyone around them.

When Arlo was younger, he looked up to someone. This person was a role model to Arlo and inspired him. This person was Rei. Within the first two years of Arlo coming to Wellston, Rei was made king. He proposed all of these ideas about equality and self-worth. He told everyone that they mattered and that they belonged. This was a change from any previous king and the students were new to the concept. With Rei’s constant encouragement, they began to treat each other as equals and friends. High-tiers got along with low-tiers and everyone believed in themselves, believed they had something to contribute. Arlo, being a high-tier was introduced to the idea that everyone around him is his equal and that they could all be friends. Because he looked up to Rei, he didn’t question it, just accepted that everyone was happy now. Arlo believed in that system. And so he helped Rei bring up the low-tiers.

Things were going great, until one day, the low-tier realized something. Because Rei said they were all equal, they could do anything they wanted! Suddenly low-tiers were picking fights and trying out for turf wars. If the high-tiers could, why shouldn’t they? Problem was; they were weak. Rei’s insistence that they were equal didn’t change the fact that they had little ability. Soon, low-tiers were getting hurt, hurt by their misconception that they could do anything that the high-tiers could and hurt by the king that introduced them to that misconception. In the end, Rei’s reign did more harm than good, despite his good intentions.

Arlo lived through this. He saw what happened when you gave false hope and he knew what happened when people got confused. He swore to himself that he wouldn’t make the same mistakes that Rei did, that he would honor Rei’s memory by learning from him. And so when Arlo was promoted to king when Rei graduated, he decided that he would abide by the hierarchy previously used before Rei stepped up. He wouldn’t let Wellston fall into chaos again. He wouldn’t let Wellston down. The low-tiers would be treated as such and the responsibility was handed to the high-tiers. Inconvenience on both sides is better than ruin on all sides.

Things are going great. High-tiers are setting examples, low-tiers aren’t getting unnecessarily hurt. Then one day, this new kid shows up. Arlo is only put onto his scent because Elaine tells him that he hung out with Seraphina and Arlo considered her a friend (he didn’t have many considering his position cold demeanor). So he looks into it and is appalled at what he finds! John is supposedly a low-tier, a cripple even, but he acts like he’s the king! He isn’t afraid of the high-tiers, hangs out with Seraphina, the school’s ace, and has no regard for the rules. He acted exactly like low-tiers did when Rei was king. Arlo panicked because he worked so hard to fix Wellston, worked so hard to impress Rei, and then John showed up, threatening to unravel all his work. He remembered what happened when Rei was king and knew what harm an arrogant low-tier could cause.

And so Arlo dug deeper, getting Isen to look into John’s past and personality. Maybe there was something different about this kid, maybe he was just a rarity that had a larger ego than normal. Maybe he wasn’t such a big threat. But when Arlo found out that he wasn’t a low-tier messing up the system, he found another problem. He was a high-tier.

Arlo has stricter rules for high-tier than low-tiers. Though low-tiers will always be there and will always have to be counted on to know their place, high-tiers are the ones who are supposed to tell them where they belong. High-tiers are supposed to be the enforcers and have lots of responsibilities. Even under Rei’s rule, the high-tiers had the most responsibility! It was a must. High-tiers were born with a gift and they had to use it to help the greater good. Whilst John thinks that helping the greater good means being nice to everybody, Arlo knows that helping the greater good is giving everyone a place, it’s letting people know who they are and where they belong. Arlo won’t stand for a high-tier neglecting his responsibilities and at the same time confusing the low-tiers. Because of this, Arlo just couldn’t leave John alone. For the sake of Wellston, for the sake of sanity, and for the sake of order.

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

sorry this is late, but theres a small hiatus so hopefully it doesn't matter too much ;)

[engagemachine]

Been wanting to write this post for a while now, just haven’t the energy to do it. 

These past couple of months have taken their toll on me in regards to my workload at my job. The manager of my unit who hired me (who, afterwards, ended up becoming a very close friend of mine, someone I look up to as a second mom) ended up stepping down few months ago, and since that time, many other staff have left with her/have relocated elsewhere, which has taken a massive toll on our staffing. Most of us are picking up extra shifts, working overtime, doing everything we can to make ends meet and help each other out. Nightshift has been hit the hardest, but we feel it everywhere, in all departments. In fact, I think the whole hospital is undergoing some major upheavals. I know of several other units that struggle with staffing as well. We’re all tired, overworked, and the patients getting admitted to our unit just seem to be getting progressively worse/harder to deal with, or perhaps that’s just my patience that’s become worn so thin. 

I love what I do. I really, really do. In fact, when I first took this job, it’s mostly because I thought I had to--most nurses start off working in a medical/surgical unit because you learn and see so much. It’s kind of expected that medsurg is where you start when you’re fresh out of nursing school. But as the weeks wore on, I realized that I loved the floor, the ability to plan out my day, getting to spend a full twelve hours with my patients and their families and having the time to really bond with them in a way that is so impactful and sometimes even life changing. Medical/surgical nursing can a great foundation/stepping stone, if that’s how you choose to use it. You get to do a little bit of everything and feel around for what you really like--what you want to specialize in--whether that’s emergency room nursing, burn/wound nursing, critical care/ICU nursing, dialysis, pediatrics, cardiopulmonary, oncology, the list goes on and on. I have learned so much in so many specialized fields--it feels great to know a little bit about everything. I love educating my patients in that regard, answering questions, etc. 

Bedside nursing, though, has absolutely taken its toll on me, as I am about to broach my second year of nursing. My preceptor and I had a conversation a few months back, where she said she doesn’t know how nurses are able to do bedside nursing for more than two years--and given the unit we work on, how high stress it is, that statement makes a lot of sense and has really resonated with me. One of my coworkers who I became good friends with left our unit a few months ago, now working outside of the hospital entirely, and we had a conversation that was very enlightening to me and filled me with such relief, knowing that someone was struggling in the exact same ways I was. We talked about how we feared we were starting to lose our compassion, how worn down we felt, running ourselves ragged, always going above and beyond to meet the needs of our patients, finishing up the extra work the previous shift was too lazy to do, fixing mistakes, really taking the time to be with our patients and get to know them, to care for them, console them, make them comfortable, put them at ease, answer their questions, control their pain, assist them with bathing and eating and ambulating and making sure they got home safely and had the support system/supplies they need in able to function properly at home. Really advocating for them even if meant butting heads with physicians or case management or other members of the interdisciplinary team. 

This work is exhausting. Whether you’re working three days a week or four or even five, it is mentally and physically excruciating at times, and I’ve felt it more now than I ever did before. I’m used to the twelve/thirteen hour shifts now, and thankfully when you’re busy, the day tends to move fast, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I feel so worn down all the time. When I’m home, it’s hard to truly unwind and enjoy myself, either because I’m too tired to do the things I enjoy, or because I am preemptively stressing about the coming work week. I’ve attempted hobbies that distract from the stress I feel at work, stuff I’ve used in the past to help decompress and relax, but lately I’ve been too tired to fully commit/engage in them. I have these little spurts of manic energy now and then, where I feel almost high, I’m so happy, but I never know how long they’re going to last or when they’ll come. It frustrates me that I can’t be more in control of my emotions, get a better handle on things. 

I feel like friends I used to lean on don’t really understand, and there’s a certain exhaustion in talking about work and trying to explain it to someone who doesn’t know what it’s like, and for some reason that’s stressful, too. In some ways I feel like I’m back where I was when I was going through nursing school, where nobody understood and friendships just kind of began to slip through the cracks of my fingers, and I didn’t really notice the absence until I had closed my fists and felt they were no longer there. It’s scary and a little frightening. I don’t want that to happen again, even if I have made peace with the friends that slipped away as I was navigating through school. 

I know that a certain level of stress can and should be anticipated in any job. Mine’s not special. But the constant weight of holding another human being’s life in my hands--while simultaneously jugging four or five others, all the at the same time--has started to become extremely taxing, especially when, as stated before, it is coupled with our chronic low staffing, and the general acuity/higher demands of the patients who are typically admitted to our floor. 

So the question here suddenly becomes, what do I do? Where do I go from here? I don’t want to do bedside nursing for the rest of my life. Like I said, most nurses use unit this as a stepping stone for where they really want to go. Because of our staffing issues, we have several agency (travel) nurses on our floor currently, and I’ve been chatting with several of them about what it’s like to be a travel nurse, what to expect, and I’ve received a lot of tips about it. It sounds fascinating. I love to travel and I’m filled with such a sense of acute desperation/longing to explore more of the world. But travel nursing also terrifies me, the idea of picking up and relocating every thirteen weeks, all the paperwork, the stress of finding a new place, finding my way around a new town, new job orientations (holy hell, NEW JOB ORIENTATION EVERY THIRTEEN WEEKS!). Despite my love for seeing new places, I am such a homebody, I really enjoy being at home and relaxing and puttering around the house. I am comforted by my belongings, even though I try to make the effort to not become too attached to these worldly possessions. So you can imagine how the idea of relocating every thirteen weeks is slightly terrifying if not just downright stress inducing. 

Last year, my family sold my childhood home during what was an incredibly tense/stressful time for all of us. My parents did not want to sell our home, but due to a long and ongoing financial crisis, that was our only option. It was hard and devastating. I drove back home for the move to help my mom and dad sort through their possessions (as we’d been doing for the past four, five years) but there was still so much to go through. Long story short, I no longer have a “forever” home as my parent’s current housing situation is temporary. This makes me feel as though I am in limbo, that, if I did decide I was going to become a travel nurse, I would either have to sell the majority of my belongings and make due with the essentials that could fit in my car, or find some kind of storage facility where I’d dump all of my belongings and just not have them as I moved across the country every several months. A nomad existence excites me, but not having a home base to fall back on really scares me, too. Nothing in my life feels grounded anymore. I didn’t realize what a safe haven my home was until it was gone. So strange to think of another family inhabiting that space now, some child living in my bedroom, opening my closet doors, looking out my windows. Some mother that isn’t mine cooking in our kitchen, using our stove, putting meals on our counter. 

When I was little I imagined we would always have that house, that when I was older and married, I’d come home for Christmas and show my spouse all the secret places where I used to hide things, the creek where I used to play in the woods, that spot in my closet where I used to curl up and close the doors when I wanted to be alone and cry, or that one door where my best friend and I used to mark our heights over a period of six years, how you could see that one spring where I shot up and suddenly towered over her even though she was two years older. All these sacred spaces now suddenly possessed by someone else. 

I guess I just really feel at a crossroads. I know what I need to do, I know work is killing me, my spirit, my drive, I know I need to get away, but I’m scared and anxious about what my next steps should be. I have an ultimate end goal in mind, but I’m not sure what roads to take to get there--or if I am even ready for it at this time. 

I feel like I function at half capacity on my off days. I am on at work, I have to be, for my patients, but when I’ve clocked out, when I’m home, it’s like my body just shuts down, all my energy, my drive, it just turns off. I’m incapacitated suddenly. 

The solution probably seems simple--apply for another job!--and I did, a few months ago. It’s the first job I’ve applied for where I just haven’t heard anything back from the employer--no “yes”, no “no”, not even a date for an interview--even despite my several attempts at follow-through and my persistence in getting my resume looked over by HR. 

One thing I do know for certain is that I don’t want to work in a hospital again (the bureaucracy of it all, and all the patient satisfaction survey bullshit is enough to make you lose your mind) and I don’t want to be relegated to a doctor’s office where I’m sitting on my ass all day or handing tissues to toddlers who haven’t learned yet how to blow their own nose. So this severely limits my options. 

So many uncertainties in my life. I don’t know whether to dive head first into the unknown, or continue to tread cautiously and wait for change. In my heart I know that something more proactive must be done, but I’m caught in a rut and I feel like I don’t even have the energy to get out. 

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Standing Still

Not My Gif

Vasquez x Reader x Faraday, Female Reader, Polyandrous Relationship

AO3 Link/ Support Me on Ko-fi

Requested by Anonymous:  Maybe “Just go away” and “Why didn’t you tell me?” With Josh and Vas?

A/N: This is my first time writing a poly relationship, so I apologize in advance.

Word Count: 2.7 K

           A woman being in a relationship with two men was not something one would consider normal, and yet, that was how your life had decided to go. 

          You weren’t going to complain, but there was no shaking just how odd it all was. Faraday was always quick to point out Mormons had been doing it in reverse for years, and considering the scarcity of women west of the Mississippi, it would be downright selfish of him and Vasquez to take one each for themselves.

           The three of you met when Mrs. Emma Cullen went out in search of gunmen to protect the small town of Rose Creek.  You and Vasquez hit it off right away with Faraday not far behind as the week went on.  After the battle, Sam, Goodnight, Billy, Jack, and Red all went their separate ways, but you, Vasquez and Faraday all ended up going in the same direction and hadn’t split up since.

           It took time, but your feelings grew stronger and stronger every day for one another, until finally it exploded in a mix of booze, shouting, and sex. Once you sobered up, you were finally able to talk it out like reasonable adults, and confronted the simple truth they you all loved each other and there was no sense in trying to hide it.

           It wasn’t always easy.  Faraday had the uncanny ability to drive Vasquez to the point of insanity. Vasquez’s temper at times got the better of him and your own stubborn streak could lead to not talking to either of them for days on end until one of you cracked. But you still managed to balance each other out, and none of you could truly be whole without the other.  

           You loved them, and you knew they loved you right back, but there was no avoiding who they were.  Faraday was a drinker, a gambler, and overall scoundrel.  Vasquez as a wanted man, constantly looking over his shoulder. Neither was the type to settle down. You tried to never let that fact bother you.  You didn’t mind the idea of being on the move forever, but you knew, eventually you would have to stop.  

           Faraday and you took the lead as you rode into town, scouting out the area, or more specifically, the sheriff’s office.  You started making a habit of watching the wanted posters whenever you came into an unfamiliar place.  Luckily, none of the posters mentioned Vasquez by picture or name. Faraday offered to give Vasquez the all clear while you checked in with the local doctor.  

           You hadn’t been feeling well as of late.  Most of your mornings were spent bent over a rock puking.  You waved it off as nothing more than hard riding combined with something you ate, but both men insisted you see a doctor.  You reluctantly agreed, but for your own reasons.

          You had a sinking feeling you had something much more permanent than an ailment of the stomach.

           You found the doctor easily enough and allowed him to run as many tests as he could.  You bobbed your knee anxiously as he took your temperature and checked your pulse.

           “How long have you been feeling this way?” the doctor asked.

           “About a week,” you said.

           “And it always happens in the morning.”

           “More or less.”

           The doctor nodded his head, as he took his hand away from your wrist.

           “Ma’am, this is going to sound rather crude, but rest assured it is purely in medical interest.  When was the last time you bled?”

           You didn’t answer right away, trying to remember.  You hadn’t exactly been keeping track considering your life style, but the more you thought about it, the longer ago it seemed.

           “I’m not sure,” you admitted.

           “Well, it seems to be you don’t have a stomach flu at all,” he said with a smile. “You’re pregnant.”

           Your breath stopped in your throat as you felt the color drain from your face. You thought it might be possible, but the reality was something entirely different.

           “I’d say you’re about a month along,” he continued, oblivious to your thoughts. “I’m sure your husband will be thrilled at the news.”

           You nodded, unable to form a coherent thought.  

           The doctor continued to rattle off instructions to which you were only half conscious of.  You smiled and thanked him in a daze as you walked out the door.

          You were pregnant.  You were going to be a mother.  Vasquez or Faraday was the father.  

          You didn’t bother to get back on your horse.  You just unhitched him and walked down the street trying your best to delay the inevitable.  

          The sun was starting the set by the time you reached the inn.  You took your time leading your horse to the small stable alongside it before making your way inside.

          You made you way up the stairs, and stopped in front of the door, listening closely. You hoped Vasquez and Faraday had already found their way to the gambling hall, but no such luck.  You heard both their voices through the door, talking about something you couldn’t make out. Steeling yourself, you walked in.

          Vasquez was standing by the mirror, washing his hands and face while Faraday sat on the bed, buttoning up his only clean shirt.  Both looked to you as you entered, each with their own looks of concern.

          “Hey darlin’,” Faraday said.  “What’d the doc say?”

          You pushed aside your dark thoughts giving the best easy smile you could.

          “Ain’t nothing bad,” you said.  “Just told me I should rest up a couple of days.”

          Vasquez walked over to you, taking a gentle hold of you and pressed his lips to your forehead.  

          “How are you feeling now?” he asked.

          “Honestly, a bit tired,” you said, sighing for effect. “I think I might just stay in bed tonight.  You don’t mind, do you?”

          “I think I can manage without my good luck charm for at least one night,” Faraday said.

          “You sure about that guerro,” Vasquez countered.

          “Hey, have some faith.  I made it long enough to meet you two didn’t I?”

          “A miracle on its own.”

          Faraday only smirked as he stood from the bed and walked over to you.  He pressed a quick peck on Vasquez’ lips before turning you and kissing your cheek.

          “Take care of yourself sweetheart, alright?”

          You gave a small nod.  

          He smiled in return and walked out the door.

          “He’s going to be impossible tonight, isn’t he,” you said, just as the door closed.

          Vasquez chuckled lightly.

          “Probably,” he said. “Do you want me to keep you company instead?”

          You shook your head giving him a reassuring smile.

          “No, you have fun tonight. You haven’t had a chance to loosen up in a while.”

          “You sure?”

          “Yeah.”

          Vasquez looked you over carefully, checking for the lie, but he couldn’t find it. He placed a soft kiss on your lips before pulling away.

          “Beunas noches cariña.”

          “Beunas noches.”

          He gave you a soft smile, and walked out the door leaving you completely alone.

          You walked over to the bed and sat down. You knew the lie wouldn’t last you long. Eventually they would start to notice your stomach growing and how you wouldn’t be able to drink with them and a number of other facts leading to the truth. You couldn’t face it though.  You knew what the truth meant.  You didn’t even consider the option of giving the child up.  It was made from the truest love you’d ever felt.  You couldn’t bare letting go of something made up of each of you.  But a simple fact remained.  They would leave.  They would have to, at some point or another, they would leave you.

          You felt the tears starting to form in your eyes.  You knew this day was coming, you just didn’t expect it to come so soon.

          Holding you head in your hands, you allowed your emotions to run rampant as the tears started burning down your cheeks.  You knew what you had to do.

          As quietly as you could, you started packing your bags.  There wasn’t much to pack.  Faraday has learned from experience you didn’t like other people touching your stuff and so only unpacked the things that got in the way of his own clothes and essentials.

          You worked slower than you normally would have, stopping every so often to cry or look around the room, or listen to the stairs almost hoping they would come back up, just in time to stop you, but no one came.

          Sooner than you would had liked, you were packed.  You paused a moment to look around the room.

          You should leave them a note, something to explain your actions, but you couldn’t think of what to say.  You didn’t want to lie to them with some made up excuse, but you knew the truth would lead them to follow you.

          You shook your head, grabbed your bags, and made your way down the stairs and towards the stables.  You didn’t stop until you reached your horse.  

          “We’ve got to go boy,” you said walking over to your saddle.

          Suddenly a loud bang came from the pin beside him.

          You jerked your head to see Jack pacing the stall, kicking and neighing as loudly as you ever heard him.

          “Jack,” you scolded, walking over to him.  “Jack, quiet, will you?”

          He didn’t let up, shaking his head and jerking away from you as you tried to calm him down.

          “C’mon boy, it’s alright. It’s just me.”

          “Y/N!”

          You turned around, your stomach dropping to see Faraday standing in the doorway in the stables panting.

          He didn’t even get you time to respond, as he turned his head over his shoulder.

          “Vas, I found her,” he yelled just before walking further into the stable.

          “Sweetheart, what are you doing,” he asked.

          “Just go away.”

          He didn’t stop, reaching out to you.

          “Y/N…”

          “Don’t touch me!” you snapped.

          He stopped in his tracks, retracting his hand immediately.  It was then he noticed your bags on the ground, and your saddle sitting just beside your horse.  He then looked back to you, as realization took over his features.  

          You felt the emotions starting to build back up pressure to your eyes and throat as you tried desperately to keep the tears at bay, but to no avail.

          It was then Vasquez entered looking between you and Faraday in utter confusion.

          “What happened?”

          You couldn’t answer.  You weren’t even sure how you were still breathing as you choked on the air.

          “I think she was planning on leaving,” Faraday answered for you, not bothering to look as Vasquez.

          The other man stood stalk still.  Disbelief, confusion, hurt, anger and all the rest played across his face as he finally settled his eyes on you.

          “Why?”

          You shook your head, wiping away your tears as best you could.

          “Don’t ask me that,” you said hoarsely.  

          “No, I think we outta,” Faraday said.  He made no effort to hide his bitterness.  You couldn’t blame him.  

          “I can’t.”

          “Can’t what?”

          “Please!” you begged, finally turning your eyes to look at him. “Please, just let me go.”

          “Not until you tell us what’s going on!”

          You shook your head.  You couldn’t say the words.  You looked away from them as another sob wracked through your body.

          Faraday let out a groan of frustration, turning his back and walking away from you.

          Vasquez didn’t say anything.  He looked to Faraday, meeting his eyes.  There was a small series of looks back and forth in a silent conversation ending with Faraday giving a tired shrug.

          Vasquez then turned to you. With all the caution of one approaching a spooked horse, he stepped towards you.

          “Y/N,” he said softly.  

          You didn’t look at him, but you didn’t pull away either.

          He took a chance, reaching out to place and gentle hand on your arm.

          “Look at me.”

          You did as you were told, regretting it instantly.  

          Faraday was a poker player in every sense.  His face barely gave away anything when he didn’t want it to.  Vasquez was completely different.  For all his practiced machismo, his eyes always gave away what he was really thinking.  

          Guilt tore through you as you saw the pain you had caused him.  The pain you caused both of them.  You hadn’t meant to, but it was obvious your methods had been in vain. They needed to know.  You owed them that.

          “I’m pregnant,” you said weakly.

          Vasquez froze, his eyes going wide as he stared at you in complete shock.

          “What?”

          Faraday turned back to you then, looking at you with the same expression.

          “I’m pregnant,” you repeated, a little louder, leaving no room for doubt.

          Vasquez glanced back to Faraday as if to make sure he had just heard the same thing.

          Faraday didn’t look at him.  His eyes stayed right on you.  You almost wanted to laugh.  It took a lot to take the words right out of Joshua Faraday’s mouth.

          Vasquez turned back to you, looking down your body to your stomach.  He reached his hand out to touch it, but retracted it at the last second before meeting your eyes once more.

          “Are you alright?” he asked limply.

          “Yeah,” you said, smiling slightly.  “I mean, I do have a person inside me, but yeah.”

          “But you sure?” Faraday asked, regaining his voice. “You’re absolutely sure.”

          You gave a small nod.

          “The doc said I was probably about a month or so along.”

          Vasquez cursed something in Spanish under his breath while Faraday ran a hand over his face.  Both of them seemed at a loss as to what to do as they processed the information.

          “Why didn’t you tell us?” Vasquez finally asked.

          You looked down at you boots.  A part of you was ashamed, but another part knew you were right, or at least, thought you were.  

          “I didn’t think you would want it,” you confessed. “I thought it would just be easier on all of us.”

          “Why would you think that?”

          “Do you want this baby?” you asked him plainly. “Either of you?”

          Neither of them said anything.  They each looked at each other, as guilt and uncertainly spread across their faces. It was all the answer you needed.

          “I know you two,” you said simply. “You’re good men, but you’re not fathers.”

          “Is that what you really think of us?” Faraday asked.

          “When was the last time we stayed anywhere more than a few weeks?” you asked. “How long is it until someone runs us out of town or the sheriff starts to get suspicious?  Me, I don’t mind it, but I can’t do that to them.”

          You looked down at your stomach, placing a hand over it tenderly.  For a moment, you could see them.  A red haired little girl, a dark-haired boy, brown eyes, green eyes, all playing in front of you.  A child you could call your own with the perfect mix of all of you.

          “I have to stand still,” you said softly, “and I can’t ask you to do the same.”

          “We could try,” Vasquez said.

          You shook your head, feeling the tears come back into your eyes.

          “For how long?” you asked.

          “As long as you want us,” Faraday said.

          You looked up at him in surprise.

          Faraday stepped back towards you taking a place besides Vasquez.  You had never seen him so serious before. You waited for a crack, a smirk, something, but it never came.  

          “We won’t leave you Y/N,” he said. “You or the baby.”

          You looked between the two of them, feeling a small bit of hope beginning to swell inside you.

          “I want to believe you…”

         “Then believe us,” Vasquez said. “We’ll make it work.  We’ll prove it to you.  Just give us a chance.”

          You could feel the determination behind his words.  Both him and Faraday.  

          You felt yourself nodding, giving in to the love you had for them.

          Faraday quickly took you into his arms, hugging you tightly.  You returned it tenfold wrapping your arms around him like a life line.  You felt Vasquez come up behind you holding you close effectively enveloping you in the warmth of the two men you loved.

          Maybe it was a bad idea.  Maybe it would end in heart break.  But for the moment, you had them, and they had you.  Your child would be loved and that was enough.

[mintyvan]

21 - Flip For It

filling the request Jealous van, makeup sex with van, anything bondy-related, reader can’t decide between van + bondy, and van teaches you how to play guitar. Rated M for the smut!

summary The reader is Van's girlfriend, but she quickly falls for Bondy too. Van is jealous, Bondy is eager, the band is about to go on tour; who will she choose?

note this is the longest thing I’ve ever written, at 17825 words. Grab a cuppa and sit yourself down for this one. I thoroughly loved writing this. Enjoy!

___________________

“Van, I CANNOT do this!” you yell as your hand painfully slips off the guitar strings again. “My fingers have been cramping for hours, and I don’t even know if this thing is tuned correctly.”

He had been standing at the kitchen counter making tea, and he turned around and sat a cup down in front of you. “Have a break if you need it, love. But I know you can do it. Gotta be positive and all that.” He stood over you, bad posture taking a few inches off his height.

With a huff of frustration, you state, “But you said it yourself that most people quit after a few weeks! I don’t wanna be like that.” You look up at his clear blue eyes, the dissatisfaction clear on your face.

You had been Van’s girlfriend for years now, and watching him play guitar with the boys on tour (when you were invited to come see them for a few days) was one of your favorite memories. At night in hotel rooms, they’d bring out a few acoustics with Bob tapping on pots and pans or hotel room tables when all his gear was locked in the other rooms. They’d sing and play and dance until the early hours of the morning when one of the tour managers would come in and banish everyone to their respective rooms with a “You all have to be up in four hours! What are you thinking?”. Out of everyone, you were the least musically inclined; you always got that hot feeling in your cheeks when a new friend of the band’s handed you a guitar thinking you played too. The blush would creep up on your chest and your cheeks and you had to pretend it was because Van was still wooing you with his prodigious musical ability - which he was, granted - but you didn’t want to let him know how much it affected you to feel incredibly inferior to him in every aspect in music. After all, music was his entire life, and you had been desperate to avoid any contact with it until now.

You had always wanted to learn an instrument but never had the time to learn how to play. There were the fourth grade piano lessons, but those lasted about a week and a half before you quit because your fingers weren’t long enough to do octaves, and all the classical songs you wanted to learn required that you could do that. When all your friends were in the school chorus or band or orchestra, you were taking the other elective classes that interested you more than the chance to potentially and eventually fail again at music.

That insecurity was still rooted deeply in you as you grappled at the frets and struggled to strum the chords; after Van tried to teach you melody, he realized a better fit for inexperienced you would be rhythm, and set you to learning some of the easier parts in songs you both loved, not to much avail.

“Honey, come to bed,” Van whispered a few hours later, peeking out of his room across the hall from Larry’s. You had been working tirelessly through the evening and into the night, watching how-to videos on Youtube and trying to remember the patterns of fingers and strums while Van, Larry, and Bondy shared a few drinks and played Fifa; their activities were practically the same regardless of whether they were on tour. It was all a blur to you as you concentrated hard.

“A few more minutes, I’ve almost got this one part I think,” you replied, placing your tongue between your lips again in concentration, fingers trying to hold the strings down. Your eyes were starting to go in and out of focus from exhaustion.

“Right. See you in a few.” He tiptoed over, careful not to make the floorboards creak, and kissed you on the cheek softly before heading back to his bedroom.

****

Bondy’s heavy footfalls on the linoleum kitchen floor woke you. The tiny night-light above the sink cast an orangey glow across his chiseled features as he stepped around the table to reach the fridge. After pouring himself a glass of water, he sensed your gaze, and his bare feet padded over to you.

You hadn’t realized that you’d fallen asleep with the guitar cradled in your arms, and you only noticed as Bondy started to softly chuckle as he picked up your feet from the couch and put them on the coffee table so he could take a seat next to you.

“Still trying to pick it up?” he asked, in reference to playing the guitar. You nodded sleepily as he took it from you and started to play it quietly, and almost absentmindedly. The guitar looked like it belonged in his arms, as if it were an extension of him. He played it easily, though his eyes were heavy-lidded.

Suddenly, you decided to vent the frustrations you were harboring about guitar. Maybe it was the cover of night, or Bondy’s comforting presence next to you. Or the countless hours you’d practiced with Van, all for nothing. But something was making you speak out for once.

“Van’s not the best teacher - I mean, he plays really well, but I don’t think what he’s telling me is getting through to me. May I?” You nod to the glass of water on the table, questioning, and Bondy nods back, indicating you could take a sip. After washing away the feeling of sleep from your mouth, you continue. “I just don’t get it. I’ve never been good at music. I think it’s ‘cause I have a different way of thinking than most people. I mean, not super different, but just a little backwards or maybe I see other patterns than what I’m supposed to. And, God, I’m bored all the time. I need something to do to pass the time.” Your voice got quieter.  “And I’m just embarrassed every time some of you start playing and I can’t take part. I feel like an outsider or something.” You looked down at your hands folded in your lap and twiddled your thumbs.

Bondy listened quietly to your confused ramble, and when you were finished, he said, “Maybe I could teach you the basics. Sometimes it can help to just forget everything you’ve heard and start again from scratch.”

You nodded your head, and considered. Glancing at the digital clock numbers glowing bright blue on the end table, and realizing you still had a couple of hours left until you really had to go to sleep, you nodded as Bondy handed the guitar back to you and started explaining everything from a true beginner’s perspective.

*****

“Babe! Ya never came to bed last night,” Van said, a little disappointed, to your almost-lifeless body on the couch as he strutted into the living room. He was wearing the white button down (your favorite), black jeans, black suede boots, and that black belt with a big square silver buckle. His hair was washed clean and his reflective sunglasses were perched on the bridge of his nose. Grabbing his keys and then popping a quick kiss on your lips, he exited through the door to the driveway. Shortly after, Larry emerged from his room, Bondy in tow, the both of them looking exceptionally cleaned-up as well.

You tossed off the blanket that was laying over your legs and headed for the bedroom to get changed. Today half the band was doing an acoustic session on the radio near where Van and Larry lived, hence Bondy’s overnight stay. You were excited about this performance - you had never seen them sing and play on the radio, let alone even been in a radio station, so you were bright-eyed and curious as you drove up to the radio station behind Van’s car-full of lads.

Arriving at the station, you marveled at all the wires and microphones and equipment snaking around chairs and tables in the room. The walls were completely soundproof between the studio and the outer rooms, allowing no sound to come out from inside the transparent box, and prompting Larry to cut up with you while the boys were preparing to speak. He kept making faces and yelling things at you from behind the glass, which you couldn’t hear, until Van smacked him on the arm and told him to go wait outside with you until they were done setting up.

Occupying a chair next to Larry in the back corner of the radio booth as the band and the radio hosts sat down and placed headphones on their heads, readying the equipment for on-air, you felt a little useless. You wondered if this is how Larry felt some days on tour, his job as guitar tech typically being given to hired sound people at festivals; taping setlists and carrying water out to the stage didn’t seem like fulfilling time, but you knew he enjoyed other aspects of the job too. You almost felt bad for him, and empathized with his need to act silly sometimes to get people’s attention; especially when Van told him to “shut the fuck up” earlier as Larry was bantering with Joe, preventing him from doing his job. You realized this faux “all-business” attitude Van fell into was probably why Larry enjoyed your company, and why Van may have been eager to bring you along sometimes. Their love-hate relationship was obvious.

Soon the band started the interview, with Van speaking up most of the time; you loved the way he told the host exactly what he was thinking, and didn’t hold back at all. Confidence emanated from him, and today he spoke with flourishing hand gestures. The slight tone of his muscles was peeking through the white fabric stretched over his shoulders, and you couldn’t help but think he looked incredibly sexy. You bit your lip so as not to let a rogue facial expression betray your thoughts.

The interview passed relatively quickly, and you were pleased to see what everyone looked like in action, promoting their content. You could tell they truly loved what they did, and how much they appreciated fans’ support. As they stood from their chairs to perform, the radio host played a short song over the radio so they could go off-air to prepare.

Bondy took his guitar from the stand, and made direct eye contact with you and motioned for you to watch his hands. Then he nodded his head towards Van’s hands, and with that gesture essentially told you to spot the difference. Van noticed the nonverbal interaction between you and Bondy, and cocked an eyebrow, but if he thought anything of it, he didn’t say.

They played the regulars - 7, Cocoon, and Kathleen - and wowed the radio hosts, as usual. Normally, you would have been excited to just watch Van sing, but listening to how the acoustic guitars blended the sounds together piqued your interest in not just Van’s vocals, but how fluid his rhythmic hand movements were in matching Bondy’s melodic ones. You noticed how both men played the same chords, but Van strummed in a sort of “backup guitar” fashion under Bondy’s perfect plucking. Never before had you noticed what real talent Bondy had, since previously you’d avoided even looking at musical instruments, and it fascinated you.

At the end of the session, you congratulated the both of them on a job well done as they walked outside the heavy black doors of the studio for a smoke.

“So glad we have a few more days off before the next appearance,” Bondy sighed, exhaling a cloud of smoke skyward.

“No, mate, we’ve got that fancy party tomorrow night to celebrate the year anniversary of the album’s release. We’re booked in that club, you know the one that’s like an underground bar, and though they said no outside people would be allowed in, ya know they let ‘em in for revenue an’ all that,” Van replied, snaking a cigarette out of the box. He held it daintily between his long fingers, seeming to barely touch it at all. It floated around as he spoke with his hands.

Bondy rolled his eyes in defeat, crunching his boots on the asphalt. “Is that the one where we have to dress up a little, like the Brits? Photo ops and the like?” You tried to stifle a laugh, but you choked out a giggle. You loved the way Catfish thought they had to dress up only “a little” for the Brits.

“No, that one’s in a few weeks. This one’s casual.” He fumbled around for his lighter, patting his jacket pockets, then his pants pockets. “Got a light, love?” You handed Van your lighter, both of your hands brushing together, causing you to blush. Still, years later, every little thing he did made your heart flutter. “Oh, almost forgot, we gonna practice guitar tonight?” he asked as he lit the cigarette.

Your eyes immediately went to Bondy, but he was studying the asphalt beneath his boots. You hadn’t told Van yet that you decided against him being your guitar teacher.

Looking back at Van, you realized you’d have to say yes, otherwise he’d know something had changed. You’d been so eager to have Van teach you before, and had even told him one of the many personal tales of chagrin you felt regarding your musicless childhood. You practically begged him to teach you in his spare time, which he could be using for other, more entreating activities while off tour.

You rationalized in your head. Having Bondy teaching you guitar was not wrong, but somehow you felt guilty because you’d asked Van and convinced him to forego other events. Not to mention Van hated when people went behind his back for even the smallest of offenses - you took Larry and the jaffa cake incident as a perfect illustration of this. To avoid hurting his feelings, you just smiled and said, “Course, babe,” to Van with the most positivity you could manage.

*****

“Ye can’t let him try to force the chord patterns on you. Remember what I told you - remember sounds above everything,” Bondy’s voice crackled through the receiver. You were lying backwards on Van’s bed, feet propped up on the pillows, twirling your keys around your fingers.

“I know, I know. It’ll be fine,” you tell him. “I won’t forget what you’ve already taught me.” A pause crept up, and you didn’t know what to say. You settled on a friendly “See ya later” to break the awkwardness of saying goodbye; you hated speaking on the phone for this very reason. You gladly hung up, and as you waited for Van and Larry to come home from afternoon grocery shopping, you decided to casually scroll through Instagram. You missed being able to freely post what you wanted to; all your old friends were posting selfies with their partners, recording silly videos, and showing off their love. Being Van’s girlfriend meant that you couldn’t really post anything about him without having to reveal your relationship to the public, and Van was an extremely private person, particularly wary of social media. Sometimes you wish you had a relationship with someone whose love you could also share with the world, like Chrissy Teigen and John Legend.

Your train of thought was interrupted by the sounds of Van and Larry busting into the house with giant paper bags crunching as they tried to carry all of the groceries inside. Van’s laugh echoed down the hall as Larry tried to juggle some fruit, and failed, as told by the muffled thumps on the floor.

Van jogged from the kitchen to the bedroom, and seeing you on the bed, exclaimed a cheery “Hello, love!” midair as he jumped onto it, landing to hover above you. He rubbed the tip of his nose across yours. You put your phone down and placed a hand on his neck, guiding his lips to yours. His long fingers brushed over your hair and down your neck, tickling your collarbone. Breaking the kiss, you replied with a simple, “Hi,” and a smile, and looked into his eyes. They were darkening to a deep indigo by the second. You caught onto his mood, and a smirk was shared between the two of you. His lips reconnected with yours, and the kiss deepened. He lowered himself over you, and his knee went between your legs as one of his hands slid underneath the small of your back. The other was starting to slink up your shirt, and as his fingers trailed higher up your stomach, he placed an open mouthed kiss on your neck, causing you to suck in a sharp breath of air and arch your back.

“That’s fuckin’ gross, mate!” Larry yelled at the sight of both of you on the bed through the open bedroom door. He couldn’t help but awkwardly smile in embarrassment as he stepped through the doorway to reach for the knob and close it behind him, leaving you and Van to indulge in each other.

****

The next morning you awakened to soft kisses being pressed to your shoulder. Remembering the night you and Van shared, you smiled and kissed Van’s hair.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” Van whispered when he felt the contact. From his position, legs intertwined in yours and cuddled into your side, he was at eye level with you for once. You loved when he did this; you felt so connected to him, especially with one side of his body running the length of yours. You didn’t have to crane your neck to kiss him, either. It was perfect. His arms were wrapped around your naked torso, and his skin was warm in the silk sheets. You recalled when he bought them for you at a specialty boutique:

“I’m picky ‘bout my linens. Gotta have the best for me girlfriend and me, we’re gonna be spending a lot of time in the bedroom,” he told the shop worker with a wink. Your cheeks burned red all the way out to the car as Van whisked the shopping bags off the counter with a crooked grin.

Unfortunately, you knew the morning’s cuddling had to be cut short. In order to be able to attend the band’s party tonight, you had to reschedule the dinner you had with your mother for lunchtime, and she was not keen on her children being late to family events. Actually, she wasn’t keen on anything or anyone at all.

You parted from Van in a sad huff as you told him you had to get ready for lunch with your “pain-in-the-arse” mother; he whined from loss of contact. The silken sheets pooled around his waist as you rose from your side of the bed, and his abs rippled when he propped himself up on his elbows. You, still naked, sat on the vanity’s chair to wipe your face with a cloth and prep your skin for makeup.

As you applied moisturizer and primer, you noticed Van’s gaze on you in the mirror. You straightened up your back, and pretended not to notice how ravenous his eyes appeared. While opening drawers as sexily as possible to tease Van a little in retrieving the rest of your makeup, your eyes glanced across a black silk handkerchief in the rear of one of the drawers. Picking it up with your forefinger and thumb, you dangled it in the air beside you, watching Van’s reaction reflected through the glass. His eyes opened wide and his mouth dropped open, and he looked at you incredulously for a moment. You only smirked.

“We’re deffo gonna employ that one day,” he said, just as a voice called for him in the living room.

“God, Larry ruins everythin’.” He chuckled, rose from the sheets that beckoned he stay in bed all day, and pulled a pair of track pants over his legs. He looked fucking beautiful, even in such casual attire. His necklace glinted in the mid-morning light, and his eyes sparkled as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, kissing you on the cheek as his bare chest pressed into your back, his messy hair falling onto your face. “You look lovely. And don’t stress about your mum. She’s not the greatest person, but she’s still your mum, so you got to love her” he said in his raspy morning voice. “See you tonight.”

“Wait!” you called after him. He stopped right before he reached the door. “Aren’t you going to be here this afternoon?”

“Nah, gonna go visit me grandad. His Irish folk band’s on ‘tour’ here this week, and he’s stayin’ near here.”

“Gotcha. Right then, see you tonight hon.”

****

“Y/N, I don’t know why you put me through this much stress,” your mother said as you plopped down in the cafe. She was sitting there, back straight with her driving gloves on. “I waited almost twenty minutes for you! I was about to leave,” she scoffed. In her lavender suit, matching hat and gloves, and pursed lips, she was the picture of cookie-cutter aristocracy. Something you hadn’t wanted anything to do with since she’d remarried.

“Come on Mum, I’m sorry I’m late. Van didn’t wake me up on time this morning.” She gave you a look that said Don’t test me.

“Relying on that boy for everything now! What am I going to do with you,” she sighed, clutching her cup of tea close to her brooched bosom. In spite, the corners of your mouth turned down. Her entire “holier than thou” speech was going to be laced with hypocrisy. You waited for her to continue; she always did. After a few heartbeats, she spoke up again. “You’re going to end up like that fellow Larry. Wind up with nothing someday, without a job or degree when someone replaces him. You should talk to Steve, the baker on the corner. He’s got a job opening. Or your cousin Matilda, in accounting. I’ve asked around town, and they’d all be pleased to have you working for them.”

You cut her off at that. “Mum, I’m not taking pity jobs from you. And I’m not going to end up like Larry! He’s got a stable job, he’s a great guy… And I do my own things, I don’t cling to Van. Plus… I’m just enjoying being young, not having anything pinned down.” Sighing, you sat back in your chair. The waiter came over and took your order, and then realizing the tension in the air, stepped to serve other customers nearby.

Your mother sighed, and sipped her tea. “You were going to go to university, get a prime education, and get a job away from here. I never thought I’d see you posted up like a groupie at that frontman’s flat. Living off his money like a housewife. You were always better than that,” she said, drumming her fingers on the table in front of you. You gasped at her harsh word choice. Your mother had always disapproved of everything that you did because you never did what she wanted, but she had never gone this far to insult you for it. Angry, you leaned forward and looked her directly in the eyes.

“His name is Van,  not “that frontman,” and we’ve been dating for almost five years. He’s been over at our house plenty. You know he’s wonderful. You even liked him before you remarried that guy. I love Van, and I wouldn’t mind being his housewife, anyhow! What is it with you always making me feel bad about myself? And the digging into me right as I arrive today? What have I done to deserve this?” The last part you practically whisper-yelled across the tiny table, trying not to attract the attention you knew your mother craved.

With the force of your voice, and the strain in your heart, your eyes started to sting as you realized a tiny truth behind her words. You just said you wouldn’t mind being his housewife. When you were in school, you wanted to be a doctor. Help people. Do something in the world. Make a difference. Change people’s lives. Your grades in school were good, but the fun of being with Van and the band was everything to you at the time, and his happiness took precedence over yours, so you never graduated.

You’d been trying to deny it, that you weren’t falling into a rhythm with Van where his work and money supported everything you did. But it was happening. You were his dependent. He paid for rent, food, drinks, even your phone bill. Your chest heaved, and your mother started looking at you with interest. She knew she’d struck a chord, and figured her work was done.

“Well then Y/N, let’s change the subject. I’ll tell you about Veronica’s new hair, boy is it god-awful..”

But you didn’t listen to the rest of it. As she spoke about the town gossip, your chest burned with hatred and guilt, and you felt tiny and helpless sitting in the chair in front of your mother. Sobs were threatening to escape, and you were in a public place. You tried to reign in the bitter tingling before your eyes, and a million scenarios were passing through your head. You couldn’t get a well-paying job because you dropped out of school when Van did. You couldn’t live on your own because you didn’t have a job. You couldn’t help with the band because you had no management, sound engineering, or instrument experience. Pigeonholed by your life choices, you couldn’t do anything other than what you were doing currently. And you were stuck. For half a second you considered breaking up with Van as your mother suggested, but the thought of losing him consumed you and made you choke out a sob and interrupt your mother mid-cackle.

“Mum, I’ve got to go.” You resigned yourself from the table, and ran down the steps of the restaurant to the parking lot. You put your car in drive, and let the tears spill. You wove through cars as fast as you could to get back to your only home - unfortunately for the circumstances, Van and Larry’s.

You missed your shot to achieve your dreams. You’re relying on a man for everything you’ve ever wanted. You can’t do anything. You want to give up? Great. It’s the thing you’ve always done, nothing new. Thoughts raced through your head and the tears kept coming as you drove on, but finally you thrust your key into the lock of the house and ran past the living room. It barely registered with you that Bondy was there, sitting at the kitchen table on his phone as you flew past him to the bedroom.

As soon as you slammed the door behind you, you let the tears flow freely, staining the silk sheets possibly permanently with the makeup you’d applied so happily earlier. You cried into the pillows to muffle the sounds, and lamented all in your life that you ruined.

****

A soft knock on the door betrayed the silence you’d immersed yourself in. You’d stopped crying a while ago. You were staring blankly ahead at the door, numb. Unfeeling. Unimpressed.

“Come in,” a monotone voice that didn’t sound like yours answered for you.

Bondy poked his head around the door. “Ah… you want to maybe… play guitar?” His kind, sympathetic eyes revealed that he took pity on your state, curled into the sheets and face thick with runny mascara. He was apprehensive. You probably looked terrifying.

“Okay.” You answered, and closed your eyes. Something dropped onto the sheets next to you. Opening your eyes, you saw it was a packet of makeup wipes.

“Let’s go, then. I’ll ready everything.” He left to get the guitars, and you slowly opened the crinkly package of wipes. You cleaned your face off, realizing mascara had even dripped lines down to your chin. Bondy returned with the guitars, and you forced yourself to cheer up a bit.

Bondy didn’t ask questions, for which you were grateful; you loved that he minded his own business. He started straight into the lesson, handing you a guitar and sitting himself down on the bed next to you.

“So we’ve been over chords a bit, and what sounds they make. Oh, let me see your fingers.” He held a hand out, asking for your left hand. You held it out to him, and he delicately lifted your wrist with one hand and felt the pads of your fingers with another. With a satisfied look, he continued speaking. “You’re getting the roughness you need to hold the strings down. I can tell you’ve been practicing.”

You wanted to look away from him; after the emotions you’d just swung through, having Bondy touch you so delicately, almost intimately, was enough to make you blush.

He noticed, and yet again, said nothing. With a small smile, he asked, “‘Ya listen to Frankie Cosmos?”

“Yeah. Her music is good. Simple, a little weird, but… good.”

“Glad you like it, because her song School is the first you’ll be learning. Super easy.”

He showed you the chords you needed to learn --- E and A, for the most part --- and taught you about bar chords, because she used them in one part of the song. Bondy even took your hand with the pick and strummed the song for you, as you practiced moving your hands over the frets with a chord change. The strings still cut into your skin, but it was easier than before to maneuver around the instrument; it was starting to feel less foreign.

Then, Bondy let you practice on your own for a few minutes, and once you got the general gist of it, he started playing rhythm to back you up, even though the original song didn’t have it. His playing sounded much better than yours, and you still messed up a lot, but it was fun. By the time you had been playing for an hour, a wide smile was plastered to your face. Bondy had taught you two of her songs, and you were eager to attempt the singing-with-a-guitar part.

Before you could, though, Larry walked right past the doorway and saw Bondy, hovering close to your face, smiling and repositioning your hands on the guitar, and your happy expression and tinted cheeks.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, pointedly. You knew it looked worse than it was.

“Teachin’ Y/N how to play guitar,” Bondy said, and you kicked him in the foot.

“What? Thought Van was doing that?” Larry asked, and looked at you for an answer.

“....He is.” You looked back between Bondy and Larry.

“Ah… I’m going out for a smoke.” With that, Bondy left the room.

Larry began once more. “Y/N, I’m gonna ask again, what’s going on here? What would Van think?” Always Van’s lookout.

Hearing his name washed over you all the feelings you’d felt earlier. You had tried not to think about how much being with Van had slid you into a useless niche that felt very permanent, and you wanted to convince yourself that your mother was just exaggerating the role Van had played in your life decisions, but Larry opened the floodgates with the comment that confirmed everything. And so, you lost it.

“What do you mean what would Van think? I’m allowed to learn guitar if I fucking want to. Gonna go tell him behind my back?” God, so many raging emotions you’d felt in the span of a few hours. You could tell Larry was shocked at your tone by his wide eyes and open mouth, but you just couldn’t hold it in anymore. Bondy had distracted you for a while, but it wasn’t long enough to make you genuinely happy.

Larry’s voice rose in pitch. “But the way Bond looks at - Nevermind bout that. You need to be more careful! Secrets aren’t good in this house. Van’s going to be livid if he finds out Bondy’s out here doing this with you.” His voice relayed that he thought a lot more was going on that guitar-playing. You couldn’t believe he thought so lowly of you. You were done with people making assumptions. Your heart hurt and your eyes welled up again as you spit venomous words back at one of your only friends.

“Larry, no offense, but what I do with my free time is none of your goddamn business. Not to mention that this is something I enjoy doing, and I don’t get a lot of that lately. For once I need to do something without Van’s permission! That’s all I’ve done for the last few years! I’ve settled on being his lady in waiting. I don’t even have an income. I couldn’t do anything if it weren’t for Van. My personal dreams are all gone. My dreams were Van’s dreams. They’ve been realized. I have nothing. Not all of us can tour with our best friends and get free shit.” Mouth open, obviously gutted at the reference, Larry turned, shocked, and retreated to his room, flinging the door shut with a bang. You didn’t mean to say it. The tears silently dripped over your cheeks. Your mother’s words infiltrated your own. You let her get to you. You had let everyone get to you.

Head in your hands, you sat on the bed, sniffling and regaining your composure. You dragged yourself solemnly to the shower to get ready for the party you’d forgotten about. After you undressed, before you turned the water on, you heard the front door slamming loudly. Larry had left.

****

Larry was Bondy’s ride to the party. Bondy had no choice but to ride with you, not that he minded. The ride over wasn’t awkward, as you had previously expected. Bondy was ever-so-cool, and if he had any reservations about earlier, he didn’t show it. You both bantered about the shitty music on the radio, and talked about your own music favorites. It put the horrible day you’d had in the back of your mind. You asked each other for a ciggy at the same time, and called “jinx!”, eventually owing each other a soda. At one point, Bondy used a funny voice to recite lines and lines of puns, and you couldn’t stop laughing and had to pull the car over to calm down. You’d never heard Bondy laugh so loudly in your life; it was a hearty, merry sound. You realized you really liked spending time with him because he made you forget how shitty life could be sometimes.

As soon as you and Bondy arrived at the bar in the city, Van was at your side, hugging you, taking you to meet people, and showing you off, leaving Bondy to mingle with others himself. Obviously, Larry had kept the conflict earlier to himself.

You were glad you wore the outfit you did - black dress, green army jacket with your buttons pinned to it, and your silvery doc martens - because everyone was looking at you. You had to admit, you loved the attention you got when Van introduced you as his girlfriend. It helped ease the part of your mind that persuaded you didn’t matter, and put you in a better mood.

Listening to everyone speak so highly of Van made it easier to forget what your mother said. He truly was an angel; and after all, it was kind of your fault that you’d let him guide your decisions. He never asked you to do any of it. He was always thankful for your support and your presence, and he believed he was repaying you by supporting you fiscally and emotionally. Well, most of the time.

“Baby, you don’t have a drink! Let me grab her one, excuse me everyone,” Van said to the group you were currently speaking with as he butted into the conversation with a playful air. He held your hand and pulled you along to the bar, where he ordered the most expensive drink they had, to spoil you. He smiled proudly as you sipped from the rim. You loved how territorial and chivalrous he got with you around others. He’d tug you closer into his side, letting everyone know you were with him and no one else.

Fast forward three hours, when anyone and everyone in the bar was pissed drunk. Slurred words and happy laughter filled the air. Van decided to take advantage of everyone’s distractions and planted a hard kiss on your lips. By this time, just as Van predicted earlier, the bar had let in people who weren’t invited, and it was turning into a proper club scene. You two weren’t into that, so you settled for a steamy makeout on the fire-engine-red booth in the corner, and in drunkenness, your demeanor had improved considerably.

Wandering hands touched skin and roamed the fabric of your dress. No one dared interrupt your tangling limbs in the booth; people were busy singing karaoke. Others were engaged in intimate conversations. Some, jealous, peeked over at Van in the booth and wished they were you.

Van’s touches became more urgent, and his tongue rolled between yours. You could taste the alcohol and smoke in his mouth, but you didn’t care. His mouth was warm, comforting, and laced with want. Breaking the kiss, he pushed you gently upright against the booth; you liked how his hands felt pressing your skin. He kissed your neck and helped you out of the booth.

Smirking, he took your hand and led you out of the area of booths to a storeroom closet. He pushed you back against the closed door, the doorknob rattling and the wood creaking. His hips slid against yours as he lifted the hem of your dress up, bunching it around your waist. You were tempted to take the damned thing off because it was getting in the way, but it was a bit difficult to undo, and why did you think to wear anything at all with Van around?

You hazily circled your hips, grinding down against him as you hooked one of your legs around his hips, the clunky heel of your shoe digging into his backside. You were both breathless, moans and groans leaving lips as you moved against each other, and his hands were everywhere. On your waist, your hips, blunt nails digging into the skin of your stomach as he reached up to your chest.

Your lips parted, reddened and plumped from biting to keep quiet, and a soft whisper of a sigh brushed against his jaw. “Fuck.” Your hips twitched when he pulled the strap of the dress aside to kiss and lick, his teeth grazing the top of your chest with precision. Your fingers threaded through the hair on the back of his head, jerking him away to kiss him, open mouthed and heavy, teeth clashing and tongues curling.

You could hear the noise coming from outside, music thumping, causing your body to thrum with the vibration. His deep guttural moan when you slid your hand down his bum to pull him closer between your legs made you so wet. “God.”

“Actually, I go by Van,” he snickered. You bit at his earlobe in retaliation.

His lips were on your neck, teeth and tongue sucking and biting as he descended. Down the valley between your breasts, over the bunched material of your dress. Suddenly his unruly hair was under the fabric and he was running his tongue along the skin above your panties. Your fingers found purchase in the grooves of the door to keep standing upright.

You couldn’t believe you were doing this – with all your friends and colleagues right outside, eating and drinking and being downright merry.

Actually, you could believe it was happening with him; it was Van, and he did things to you no one else could ever imagine doing to you, and you surely let him.

Earlier you had too many of those fancy drinks and the feel of his hand traveling up and down your spine as you danced to slower music – heads bent close and whispers of “I’m glad you’re here” and “I love you” passed between you – brought you back to the high school days when it was always just you two. Always touching, always kissing, always full of love and lust and heat.

And now here you were, leaning against the door, a leg propped over his shoulder as his fingers hooked into the sides of your underwear, bringing them down inch by inch until they were dangling off your ankle and his head was back between your legs and his fingers slipped into you and you couldn’t keep in the whimpers. You were glad it was loud out there.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathed, raking your fingers through his hair, keeping him close. Only you could contradict yourself at a time like this.

He looked up at you, eyes half lidded and raised eyebrows, but he kept his tongue flat on you as he hummed, causing you to clench tightly around his fingers. He pulled back and with his voice all husky and deep, he asked, “And do you want me to stop?”

It was hard to speak when he kept moving his fingers, curling just right, and he was looking up at you with a smirk on his face, lips swollen and red from being on your skin.

“No,” you thrusted your hips, chasing his fingers. “I want...I want. Ugh, just come here,” you  grab for his shoulders, putting your leg back down as he stood up. He pulled his fingers out tantalizingly slow, causing you to whimper at the loss.

“Shh.” He rubbed his nose against yours, unhooking his belt as your hands joined the effort to bring his skinny black pants down just enough. He had his hands on your thighs, hitching one back up around his hips while the other hand glided along your backside, pulling you closer.

“I doubt they can hear me.” You teased yourself along his length, and his head fell forward to your neck, his panting breath coming out sharp and jagged. “Mm,” you pointed to the floor beside you, “purse, condom.”

He bent down to pick it up, handing it over for you to dig through. He genuinely laughed, “Thought you were going to get lucky, did you?”

“Oh please, you’ve been staring at me all night.” You tore open the package, and carefully put it on him. He bit his lip, moaning at the feel of your hands around him. “Not to mention the rest of this weekend. Maybe I was right in being a bit presumptuous, huh?”

With your hand wrapped around him, you pushed your hips up, guiding him in. You both moaned as he slid further in, getting used to each other’s bodies. His hand on your ass brought you closer, pushing him in farther. “Oh, fuck.” As he started moving slowly, his voice rose in pitch. “Yeah, you were definitely, definitely right.”

Smiling wide, you joked softly, “Shh, you don’t want them to hear you.” But you’re cut off by your own loud gasp as his thumb came to the apex of your thighs, rubbing as his hips moved even faster. He kissed you deeply, muffling your moans – and you were already treacherously close, god he needed to slow down. Slower.

Pulling on your bottom lip with his teeth, he rolled his hips just right, causing your legs to tremble. “I guess we’ll just have to find some way to keep each other quiet, won’t we? Just make sure not to call out my name too loudly.”

He dodged the hand flying at his face, half-laughing, half-moaning as he found just the right spot to make you scream.

****

Shuffling out of the closet, you both looked around the bar. No one seemed to have noticed you were gone for too long; also, you had taken measures to smooth Van’s hair back down, straighten your dress and jacket, and wipe off Van’s hands before exiting so as not to look like you’d just been doing something scandalous. Besides, Larry could always make up an excuse in the event someone did ask for either of you. You both could relax.

The rest of the night passed by uneventfully, other than when Benji accidentally broke a glass. You and Van were tired from the closet sex, and had been drunk earlier, so you couldn’t drive home. Bob offered to drive you, Van, and Bondy back.  Bondy was wildly drunk, mumbling to himself about tight spaces, party people, and broken cigarettes; therefore, definitely staying with Van and Larry again.

Sat with your forehead pressed to the cold window in the backseat, you watched the shops of Chester pass by. Bob’s driving was slow and steady, allowing you to drink in the night drifting by in your woozy state. Stopped at a red-light, through sleepy eyes you peered through the foggy fall night at the street corner. The little sign on the corner shop, illuminated by the neon blue of the DAWSON’S MUSIC sign in big letters, drew your attention. “NOW HIRING,” it said.

In your state of drunkenness, you still managed to write it down in the notes in your phone, and set it to remind you tomorrow afternoon. Van was passed out asleep in the middle seat next to you, and Bondy was in the passenger side in front of you, calmer now and also gazing through the window. After using so much energy to pick your phone up and enter that piece of information, you slumped into Van’s side for the rest of the car ride, mind flickering between consciousness and sleep.

Bob pulled into the driveway eventually, and you and Van stretched your sore limbs upon exiting the car. Van motioned with his hand over his shoulder to Bondy as you dug the keys out of your pocket. You three stumbled past the living room, through the kitchen, leaning on each other, and all of you collapsed into Van’s bed. Sandwiched between Van and Bondy, you were warm. Safe. Satisfied. You felt Van’s arm snake over your waist, and Bondy held your hands with fingers interlaced loosely between you - or was it the other way around?

****

Aspirin and water were desperately needed the next morning. Bob came over to see how everyone was, and he found the place a disaster. The front door was unlocked, and Bob waltzed right in; “You all could’ve been kidnapped,” he relayed to you later. Someone had knocked over a lamp on the way through the living room, and the bulb was shattered on the carpet. A loaf of bread was out and stale on the kitchen table next to a tub of butter. And when Bob found you, Van, and Bondy, legs all intertwined and makeup smeared on the both of them, he pretended he didn’t see it.

“Larry’s the fuckin’ lamp perpetrator,” Van told Bob once he was up and about. “Y/N and I just fuckin’ jumped in bed last night without a care. Real easy, slept amazin’. Didn’t hurt nothin’.”

You and Bondy shared a look, about to burst into laughter.  

“I slept like a fuckin’ baby. Always do when Y/N and I party all night,” he winked at you, teeth showing in a wily grin. However, you didn’t feel the same cheerfulness that Van was emanating. Something wasn’t right. Normally, Van should’ve been embarrassed that he and Bondy downright snuggled face to face - at least, he was extremely disconcerted when Larry tried to make out with him one Christmas as a result of some misplaced mistletoe and heavily consumed alcohol.

Did Van not remember that Bondy slept next to you last night? And that through the night, you had managed to cover everything with your mascara? You were known to roll around when you were drunk. But the loss of pressure when Bondy left the bed to right himself in the morning should have been enough for Van to wake up. Though he was a hard sleeper.

“And where’d you sleep last night, Bond? Get into bed with anyone? Ya’ had that lusty look in your eyes every time Y/N and I peeked at ya” Van cackled as he picked a slice of stale bread off the table and chewed it. Confirmed. Van did not know Bondy slept there at all last night. “You were absolutely fucked, mate.”

Bob’s eyes went wide, and you noticed. How did Bob know? Your eyes narrowed. You decided to keep your mouth shut, and shot Bob a look as well. You’d rather not deal with this. A confused Van was somewhat irritating.

“Yeah, ah… jumped into bed with some real hotties.” You snorted at Bondy’s answer.

“Bond! Fuckin’ legend, mate! We’re gonna have to talk about this at some point. I’ve got to know. Gonna go find Larry now though.” He stalked through the hallway to surprise Larry by yelling his name. Larry was probably in his room; he hadn’t spoken to you since you’d screamed at him. Rightfully so.

Later, when you’d gone out to the shed for a private smoke to deal with your thoughts, Bondy followed you and sat down on the ragged couch in the space next to you. Behind closed doors, you could talk freely.

“That’s so weird, Bond, how did he not know? I mean, hell, you fussed about getting my lipstick off your forehead for what seemed like five minutes. You also weigh a fuck ton and when you got off the bed, the dip you’d made in it practically sprung up. He’s absolutely oblivious.” The smoke huffed out of your lungs and hovered in the small space.

“He drank too much. He did happen to be passed out all the way home. But it’s odd that he remembers everything with you and nothin’ with me.” He lit his own cigarette and held it between his lips. The afternoon light filtered through the curls at the nape of his neck. He looked… pretty.

“Selective memory?”

“Don’t know if it works like that, love.”

Your head was swimming with all the thoughts rushing around in it. After a pause, you sighed. “We should’ve told him that happened, Bondy.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause now if he finds out later that we all shared a bed, especially after that ‘I’m horny as fuck’ look, he’s gonna think something’s up! He’s gonna think you’re trying to get at me or summat! Especially with the guitar thing already on our shoulders. Larry’s eyes are peeled. Bob’s too, for some reason. And I want Van to trust me, always. We’ve been together for so many years, imagine what he’ll do if he thinks we’re cheating. He’ll fall into despair. And now that I’ve sat through that conversation and blatantly lied to his face, complacent with your answer, and now that you’ve done the same, we’re fucked. We’ve got to keep this to ourselves.”

“He wouldn’t think we’re cheating. We’re fine.”

“This is VAN we’re talking about. Hopeless romantic, wouldn’t hurt a fly, tells everyone the truth no matter what -- we’re dealing with the most sensitive person when it comes to love. Not to mention, Larry and Bob know how close we’ve become recently, and it looks bad from the current angle and lack of communication.”

Bondy slumped further into the sickly green couch as he chuckled, releasing a puff of dust from the cushion. “We’re fucked.”

****

A few weeks, eleven secret guitar lessons, and about a hundred cigarettes later, you were stopped outside Dawson’s Music. Nervous.

Ever since you and Bondy had spoken in the shed, it became your unofficial practice space. No one ever went out there, and it was pretty secluded in the gardens that no one ever tended to, so it was a good place to meet. No one had the chance to suspect anything saucy was going on with Bondy if they didn’t know you were spending time with him in the first place. One day, post-guitar-lesson and after a raucous bout of laughter at Bondy’s attempt to sing as high as Tame Impala in The Less I Know The Better, he stopped laughing and looked down at his shoes. The music seemed extra loud when no one was speaking.

“Bond? You good, mate?” He looked up at you from under the brim of his hat, following a long pause, and said, “I think you should go get that job at Dawson’s.”

“What? How’d you even know I was considering?”

“Saw you that night in the car, looking at the sign. And then struggling to write it in your phone. Rearview mirrors are good for something, it seems.” The corner of his mouth turned slightly upward.

Mouth wide open, you stared at him. He continued. “By what you said to Larry that one day, ‘bout you needing to do your own thing, it seemed good.” Your eyes narrowed.

“You were listening?”

“The walls in this house ain’t so thick. Went out to the back behind you and Van’s room for a smoke and heard everythin’ through the window.”

“Oh.” Silence wafted in the air.

“Sorry.”

“No, Bondy, it’s okay, I just got heated in the moment and I said all those things because I had gone to lunch with my mom and she tore me up about my current situation.”

Bondy lit a match and pulled it up to his face to light the cigarette between his teeth. The sun was setting and the shed was darkening little by little. Orange beams of light shone through the two dirty windows and illuminated the dust floating in the room. “Still think ye should do it,” he said. With a puff of smoke, he stood up, took the cigarette from his lips, and handed it to you. “Come on, then.”

So there you were, standing on the street as people were walking by, wondering why your boots felt stuck to the sidewalk. You looked over your shoulder, and Bondy waved at you from the car window, and motioned for you to go inside.

****

“Van, honey! Listen!” You held the phone up to his ear, and a voice he’d never heard crackled over voicemail.

“Hello Y/N, we’re pleased to inform you that you got the job you applied for at Dawson’s Music. Please don’t hesitate to email us with your schedule so we can arrange your shift accordingly. Thanks and have a great day.”

Van looked down at you with surprised eyes, picked you up, and swung you around in his arms. “That’s amazing! I had no idea you even applied!”

“Thanks! Yeah! I’m super excited. Bondy was actually the one to push me to apply. I’m so happy I went through with it.”

“So proud of you, love. So proud. Hows’about we celebrate with some tea and kettlecorn and a movie?”

“You know me so well. Of course.” Van set to making the kettlecorn in the popcorn pot his dad had given him for his birthday last year, and you brewed the tea. Every so often, Van would wrap his arms around your waist and set his chin in the crook of your shoulder, watching you unravel the tea bags or pour hot water into the mugs. A little check-in every so-often. You loved how he subconsciously felt the need to be close to you.

Plopping down on the couch, spooned by Van under a soft knitted blanket, you felt at home. The fabric of his black tee was so soft, and you nudged farther back into him.

“Don’t be playin’ that game, love,” he snickered, kissing the side of your neck just below your ear.

“You’re just so comfortable,” you say, wriggling until you’re turned around facing him, completely disregarding the movie. He looks over your head and shoulder at the tv; you kiss his jaw softly, and then his chin. You wrap your arms around his waist, snuggling up as close as you can get, and press soft kisses to his collarbones peeking through the neck of the tee.

Just then, the front door burst open with an elated Bondy standing there. He was drunk, obviously, cigarette hanging from his lips.

“I’ve done it!” he yells, making his way to the fridge in the kitchen. Larry walked in as Bondy was fishing through the beers. He found his favorite kind, and popped the top open on the edge of the counter. Through Larry’s uncontained giggles, you saw Bondy saunter over to the hearth where Van’s TV was propped above. You felt Van’s vocal chords vibrate as he asked Bondy what the hell he was doing there and laughed.   

Bondy ignored you both on the couch and slung his arm out to grab the propane torch Van used to light the fire in the chimney.

“Fuck, Bondy, put that down!” you said, and Bondy made steady eye contact with you as he lit the torch, flame puffing loudly from the pipe, and brought it to the cigarette in his mouth, blasting the tip of it completely.

“Mate,” Van coughed out between bronchitis laughs, “what the hell?”

“Bought myself a fuckin’ house in the neighborhood today, boys!”

Van’s eyes narrowed in confusion. You felt his heartbeat quicken between his chest and yours. His eyebrows knitted together as he thought. “But you… hate it here?”

“What? No. That was last year. You’re livin’ in the past!” Bondy laughed as he held his arm out one of the living room windows, keeping the cigarette smoke outside. He fell to his knees and tried to grasp the beer he set on the chimney ledge without letting the cigarette in his other outstretched arm in the house.

Larry looked at Bondy with a confused look as well. Then, he glanced at you, who seemed to be the only one excited to gain a new neighbor.

“Where is it?” You asked excitedly. Bondy pointed somewhere off to the right down the street with a spaghetti arm. You knew you’d get the actual address later.

“That’s amazing! Now we can visit you all the time!” you bounced, sitting up on the couch next to Van. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you! I got the job at Dawson’s Music.”

“No fucking way, that’s fucking brilliant!” Bondy exclaimed, ashing the cigarette on the windowsill and flicking it outside in one motion. He picked you up off the couch and hugged you tightly, his curls tickling your neck. He smelled like booze upfront, but with notes of sandalwood and a light hint of floral underneath. You sighed into his arms. Why did boys have to smell so nice?

****

More weeks pass. It was time again for another acoustic session, this time led by a major video company you couldn’t remember the name of. It was the last session they’d be doing before starting the US tour.

The boys drove themselves to the session as a mini-roadtrip from Chester to London, and you rode in Van and Larry’s car. They laughed the whole way there, as Van and Larry both had erratic driving skills. Van constantly shot sexual looks at you in the backseat from the passenger side, and you hoped they’d later be cashed in for the actual thing.

The London bar was basked in an orange glow from industrial lighting hanging from the low ceiling. Fairy lights trailed around the edges of the room, and the warm light reflecting off the burgundy walls of the room allowed it to softly fade into the shadows at the edges. Candles in glass jars on rustic tables twinkled as people shuffled in to watch.

Your seat had been picked early on; you opted for a table between Van and Bondy, because you loved it when Van would finally open his eyes while playing and look to his right.

When the lights went down and the boys were illuminated only by the fairy lights, the audience was in awe of them. They all looked incredible, and matched the scenery. You never thought you’d see the day when Catfish played a bar gig in such a sweet way, but you were thankful it happened.

As the beginning chords of Hourglass sounded out, clear and compelling, your heart thrummed with them. The other boys fell silent as Van played, and this time he sang all the lyrics directly to you.

His eyes were open the whole time, filled with sadness of having to leave you on tour again; the reality couldn’t be denied any longer. You forgot the presence of others as he sang, belting the lyrics with strained neck and hands. Tears welled up in your eyes as he sang the chorus, almost acapella now. Soft “oohs” and guitar chords sweet and melancholic coaxed your tears out as they dripped down your cheeks.

And then it was over. You wiped them away as the audience murmured about who you were, and how some of the boys couldn’t take their eyes off you the whole time.

When the bar had cleared to its normal capacity a few hours later and your emotions had settled, you sat for a drink with Benji. You declined a beer and went for a soda; you knew if you got day drunk now you’d really feel the longing for Van and the boys on tour.

Benji got called away from the bar by a sound tech, something about his bass guitar, and Bondy plopped down in the seat next to you.

“Emotional, that was.” He was speaking of the Hourglass serenade.

“Yeah. Trying not to think too hard about it. I’m going to lose it for the first few days off by myself. Always do. I eventually get used to it though. As bad as that sounds.” You chuckled, and took a sip of your soda.

“Can’t fuckin’ believe we’re leavin’ again. But we’re also itchin’ to get back out there.”

“I know you are.”

A silence creeped in between you two, but it was comfortable. It had gotten easier speaking to Bondy on a personal level. He was the only other person you spent about as much time with as Van. That used to be Larry, but after you insulted him that day, he had tried to avoid you. Bondy knew this well, but Van was oblivious, and it was both funny and awkward to watch Van try to plan events where you and Larry would sit next to each other or go to the grocery store to buy supplies together. You or Larry would cringe and try to back out of it while Bondy cackled mirthfully in the background, as usual. Hence Larry driving most of the way to London today.

“What are you going to wear to that fancy party tomorrow?” you asked him, and his eyes narrowed in confusion before widening.

“I haven’t actually got anything,” he laughed, feet propped up on the barstool.

“Johnny Bond. This is probably the fanciest party you’ll ever attend. Why haven’t you thought to get any clothes for it?”

“Actually I do have a suit, thank you very much, it’s just in Newcastle. I moved all my shit into my mum’s house there, and I’ve been taking weekend trips there and back to cart it all to the new house. The formal wear hasn’t made it yet,” he stated.

You checked your watch. Half past noon. “I wonder….” you asked him frivolously, toothy grin peeking from your lips.

“I’ll start the car,” he stated. He stalked off to the back of the bar with a smile.

****

In Bondy’s little Volkswagen, surrounded by record store bags, CD jewel cases, old shirts and leather boots, you hit the A1 just before quarter one. Speakers loud, hair blowing in the wind, shirt ruffling, you felt happy. Bondy was smiling too, his hat having been blown to the backseat by a large gust of wind. His hair was flying around his head too. The beat of the music drummed in Bondy’s old speakers. You could feel it in your chest.

From the safety of your sunglasses, you studied his face as he drove on into hour two of the trip. Hooded eyes framed delicately by little eyelashes, nose sloping down to plump lips and small teeth. Curls resting on his cheeks. Freshly shaved. Freckles dusting above his cheekbones. Your eyes traveled over his taut jawline, and the veins in his neck, strained a little from laughing, and something deep inside you hummed. You shifted your legs on the seat and looked away for a few moments, trying to understand, trying to focus on anything but how you were feeling towards him. The music playing over the speakers didn’t help you shake that grandiose feeling of attraction. Looking back at him again, you saw the wind had let the neckline of his shirt fall below his collarbones, and they stuck out slightly, a little red from sunburn. Your cheeks burned red, and you couldn’t help but feel happy to be with him right now.

“What you smilin’ about over there?” he asked, finally noticing your stare.

“Oh, nothing, just--”

It was then that you noticed your phone lit up through your bag on the floor beside your feet.

“Hold on.”

You fished it out of your bag, and answered Larry’s call. In the background, you could hear Van yelling.

“Why the fuck’s she answering your calls but not mine?” you heard him shout, a few feet away from the receiver.

“Y/N, where the fuck are you? We’re worried sick!”

“Hey Larry, chill, Bondy and I are going to get him a suit for the party tomorrow.” You heard Larry sigh, and relay the information to Van, who was somewhere nearby. You could hear parts of their muffled conversation crackling through the phone.

“She’s always with him now, mate. Don’t know what the fuck I’ve done wrong,” Van said. You missed what Larry said back to him next. And then a, “Nothing’s going on,” from Larry, trying to assuage Van’s fears.

Then, you could feel the receiver exchange hands through the crackle of noise.

“Babe, it’s Van.”

“Hey, love. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going.”

“Next time just tell me, okay.”

“Alright. As soon as we get to Newcastle I’ll let you know.”

“Newcastle?!? What the fuck, Y/N?! What in the actual fuck are you doing?! That’s five fucking hours away?” You held the receiver away from your ear because his yelling was so loud. You and Bondy exchanged a look. His said, sorry, and yours said, I didn’t think we were doing anything wrong.

“Van….Van, honey, calm down, okay? I’m just helping him with an outfit! He already had a suit, so why should he buy another one? We’ll get there around dinner time, and I guess we’ll come back early in the morning.”

“So you’re staying the night there, too?” You could feel the hurt in his voice. It was more reserved. It broke you a little.

“Baby, I’m sorry. It was a spur of the moment decision. I… I shouldn’t have gone. I know it was stupid. And I should have told you. You would have kept me from doing this.”

In trying to appease Van, you also managed to hurt Bondy’s feelings. Next to you, he slumped a little farther into his seat and placed his arm out the window, looking away from you. But you knew it was better this way.

You hung up with Van after he felt he’d left the conversation in a good place. He’d called you seven times before Larry’s two.

The rest of the drive passed in silence.

****

“Mum, we’re about thirty minutes out from you now,” he spoke softly into his phone. Between the “mm”s and the “yes”s, you didn’t get much to go off of in terms of Bondy’s mother’s personality. But when you arrived, you realized there was no need to prepare yourself. His mother was the exact opposite of yours.

As soon as the car pulled into the secluded drive, a long winding thing out in the country, she was on the porch, waving him in with a dish towel, bright smile on her face. She was round and motherly, dressed in an apron, hair swept into a bun on the top of her head, secured with a clip. The first thing she did was pull you into a hug.

“Hello there! I’m Beatrice. You’re so beautiful, your name is Y/N, right? Bondy’s told me so much about you.” Her warmth enveloped you, and you immediately wanted to adopt her as your stand-in mother. Bondy blushed in front of you for the first time, and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d experienced a rare side of him no one else had seen.

“Hi mum,” he said, wrapping his skinny arms around her large frame, and leading her into the house.

It seemed it was a Bond family tradition to cook large meals for dinner; you could tell Bondy enjoyed stirring pots and tasting sauces for his mum. He looked at home in the kitchen, and you could imagine him, smaller and more curious-eyed, looking up at his mother asking to help her.

The sweetness in the room was almost too much to handle, and you felt as if you were intruding on a private moment. You wandered into the lounge, and perused the photos on the hearth. Bondy was a cute child, and handsome even in his awkward years.

You thought about the first time you visited Mary and Bernie’s house; it was just as warm and it smelled like cinnamon. You were wrapped in one of Van’s sweaters, sleeves too long for your arms so the sweater paws hung next to you. The photos of Van on the end tables were like mini shrines to him, and Mary gave Van the same looks Beatrice gave Bondy.

Thinking of Van made you peer down at your cell phone. No texts or calls. You guessed he was giving you space. As guilty as you felt, you also craved the taste of independence you were getting. Doing things with other people and making other friends was the first step in becoming your own person again.

Bondy came into the lounge and told you he was running out to the shed to find some old guitars you could play on. You nodded, and smiled as he left. Domestic Bondy made your heart flutter.

Suddenly, the phone rang in the kitchen and Bondy’s mother answered the phone.

“Oh hi Mariam!” her chipper voice answered. You chuckled to yourself. She was adorable.

You continued to walk through her house, imagining a little Bondy galavanting in the small hallways and the sounds of his guitar echoing through the walls. You didn’t want to admit that this made you see a side of Bondy you couldn’t deny a little love for.

“Yes, Mariam, she’s lovely,” Beatrice spoke hushedly in the kitchen. You felt bad for listening, but you were intrigued. “This is the first he’s ever brought…” she trailed off, murmuring to the other woman on the phone. “She’s absolutely beautiful. Polite and sweet. I love her already,” she spoke.

Your eyes went wide as you realized Beatrice thought Bondy was bringing you home to meet her. As if you were together. A hand went over your mouth, and you started to panic.

Thankfully, before you could take another strained breath, Bondy was at your side with the guitar. You let the feelings of panic subside for the time being so you could enjoy playing with him.

You were getting good now, especially since you practiced in your spare time. You didn’t want to show Bondy how much you’d learned, though; you were saving your newfound talent for the afterparty tomorrow, where you’d show the guys how determined you were to take part in their art. You planned to play a few songs for everyone to surprise them.

After losing yourself for an hour or so with Bondy, singing songs and playing guitar, Beatrice called that the meal was ready; Bondy apologized for not helping as much as usual. Beatrice just smiled and said everything was perfectly fine.

“So, Y/N, what do you do?” she asked. A question that had plagued your life since you’d left school. Now, though, you had a solid answer.

“I work at a record and instrument store called Dawson’s Music. I was just recently promoted to the manager of the store. I’m really surprised at how fast I progressed in the ranks! They really seem to love me, and I love them… It’s just a nice environment overall. I never thought I’d be dating a rockstar and working in music, with my previous experience. But that’s another story for another day. Bondy was the one who really pushed me to get the job.”

In the moment, you hadn’t realized your false affirmations of Beatrice’s earlier phone call; she didn’t understand that “dating a rockstar” and “dating her son” didn’t mean the same thing in her context. However, Bondy failed to correct you, and so it went unnoticed by you.

“I’m so glad! I bet you’re feeling mighty independent!” It seemed Beatrice had the same intuitive quality as Bondy.

“I really am. I think I’m happier than I’ve ever been.” At that, both Bond family members’ smiles beamed brightly, and you felt good.

“How about a little toast to that, then?” Bondy stood up, pulling a bottle of pinot grigio from a grocery bag. It was your favorite.

You laughed, eyes narrowing. “Thought you hated white,” you teased.

“Think I can make an exception.” He uncorked it, and poured two full glasses, one for each of you, and a glass with enough for a sip for Beatrice. The glasses clinked together, and you sipped happily on yours. Bondy’s face contorted as soon as he sipped his.

“‘M fine, I swear,” he said, trying to sip more to get used to the taste.

****

Bondy had given up on the wine a long time ago, resorting to a few highball vodkas and “whatever juice I can find in this fuckin’ fridge.” You both were drunk by now, telling stories across the table to starry-eyed Beatrice.

Eventually, she retired to her bedroom with a “goodnight” and a flourish of her dish towel. Bondy led you outside and you both sat in the dewy grass, staring up at the sky.

Beneath the stars, you realized you missed Van too.

****

Clothes needed to be removed after sitting in the wet dewy grass; you both were too drunk to realize what connotation a situation like this would have on any other night. You tiptoed up the stairs to Bondy’s room, where you peeled your jeans and shirt off and let them fall to the floor. Bondy had done the same. Clad only in underwear, you both climbed into his bed, pressing pillows between you two, trying not to acknowledge the zing you felt every time his fingers brushed up against your skin.

When you woke, the pillows were all strewn on the floor from your sleep movements, and you were entwined with him, pressed up against his chest.

****

Racing back to Chester with the formal suit in tow, you made it to Bondy’s house just two and a half hours before you needed to leave for the party. He lived five houses down the row, and two up the next street away from Van, so as soon as he parked the car, you darted up the street for a much-needed shower.

“Look who’s home,” Van said, enveloping you in a tight hug. “Everything’s good?” he asked, tentative. The underlying meaning was there, but you chose to ignore it. At least he was being pleasant.

“Yep. But I’m in desperate need of a shower.”

“Pop on in! Larry just took one so the water’s still hot. And I’ve been eyeing that dress in the closet for weeks, waiting to see you in it. Today’s the day!” he exclaimed, and plopped down on the couch.

You cursed men for not having to spend so much time to get ready. It took you the whole two and a half hours to wash, shave, dry your hair, fix your hair, do your makeup, paint the nails that had chipped, put the dress on, practice walking in the sky high heels, and choose a clutch that went with it.

You had opted for a long-sleeved black dress, backless, with a sweetheart V at the front. The shimmery black fabric was breathable, so it was fine for a summer night. It hugged your figure tightly before it cascaded to the floor. You decided to do your hair in big waves, to complement the dress; you even had extensions put in last week so your hair would be long enough to do a Pinterest blowout.

Stepping out of the bedroom with your smoky eye, tall heels, and fire-engine red clutch bag, you knew you looked good. You hadn’t felt this good in a long time. You walked to the living room, where the boys were doing finishing touches to their own suited looks. As soon as you walked in, all eyes were on you.

“Whoa, babe.” Van dropped to his knees in front of you. “You’re so… fuck. You’re a goddess. How’d I end up with her, lids? The universe dealt me a good hand, yeah?”

Your gaze went from him to the other boys in the room. Bob was smiling, admiring your beauty. Benji was staring wide-eyed, not saying anything. Bondy’s mouth was hanging open, and his hands were frozen where he was buttoning up his shirt. Larry was stunned, but went back to gelling his hair in the foyer mirror.

Van stood up, and walked in a circle around you, admiring every angle the dress had to offer. “Babe, this… I thought I was excited when it was on the hanger. This is somethin’ else.”

“Okay, stop drooling. We’ve got to leave in 5.” You told him, but locked eyes with each of the others to make sure they’d quit looking too.

****

The party passed as all cocktail parties do; photos as they get out of the vehicle, photos as they enter the venue, tapas to munch on during, awkward conversations with people you’ve never met, and then more photos. Your heels were killing you. You could tell the boys were tired of posing and answering questions.

“Let’s take a breather, yeah?” Van asked you, and signaled the others to follow him.

A storage room in the back of the venue was found, and half the crew lit up cigarettes as soon as they stepped within the door frame. They bantered back and forth, thankful to be somewhere they could be themselves. You kicked off your heels and noticed an old wooden acoustic guitar in the corner. Your plan was to wow them after the party, but you figured with all of them together, here and now, you could play just as well and they wouldn’t be expecting it.

You strummed it once; surprisingly, it was in tune. Bondy turned his head first; you knew it was because he was attached to all things guitar. You started playing, and only when they all looked around the room at each other and realized it wasn’t each other, that they realized it was you.

You laughed as they turned around, shocked. Van’s eyes were bugging out of his head. He sat down on a crate next to you.

You played his favorite song, and then Bondy’s, and then sung a little bit of Cocoon for fun. By the end of it, they were all singing along, and in a much better mood to get back to the party. Van was the last one to stand and return to the crowd outside.

****

Stepping into the vehicle to ride back home with the other boys, Van blindfolded you before you could push his hands away.

“Vaaaaaaan….. Wait a second. Is this that scarf from the drawer?”

“Why, yes it is. How perceptive of you.”

“This is like, a bit kinky,” you heard Benji say.

A stifled cough. Bob.

“I don’t know what to think of these two anymore.” Larry.

“I’m kind of into it.” Bondy.

“You would be.” Bob.

The rest of the car ride was just you listening to the boys, and trying to figure out what Van was up to.

The sleek black limousine pulled up to a stop at two places, and you felt people’s weight lift off the seats each time. At the last stop, after someone else had gotten off, Van said to the driver, “Go round the block one more time, for good measure.” He did.

Van helped you out of the car. You probably looked ridiculous, wherever you were, in a formal gown with a black scarf wrapped around your head. It was probably denting your hair, too.

Van carried you inside, and as the smell of the house hit you, you knew it was home. Van set you down, pressed your front up against the cool metal of the door, and started whispering in your ear from behind, hot breath tickling your neck.

“Does he do what I do for you?”

“Wh--?” His fingers over your mouth muffled your response. “Does he do what I do for you?” he repeated, voice calm, but angry. He ran a finger down your arm, touching your hand lightly. Blindfolded, all of your other senses were heightened. Van knew this. It was the reason for the extra go-around on the block. Your skin tingled where his finger had touched.

And then suddenly, his body was everywhere, encircling you from behind. He pressed his hips up against your ass, hard, lips on your neck and pulled your hips back into his as he rucked the dress up around your hips, fingering the edge of the simple black cotton underwear you chose to wear tonight. “God, how do you do that?” He rasped out in between kisses, his tongue running along the column of your throat.

You let out a muffled whimper, caught behind bitten lips. “Do what?”

His answer was to turn you around and lift a bare leg over his hip as he ground against you roughly. His touches were unexpected, and his hands were rough on you.

“He can’t touch you like I can,” he angrily whispered in your ear. He pressed you up against the door, cradling your face in his hands as he planted a kiss on your lips. “You’re mine.”

You tried to ask who he was referring to, but it came out as a moan when he bit your earlobe. You sighed into his neck, and his hands trailed down your back to paw at the zipper of your dress.

“Bedroom,” he growled. He carried you to the bed, slammed the bedroom door, and untied your blindfold. His eyes were revealed to you, angry and red. It was visible all over his face. Jealousy. He’d found out how much time you’d actually been spending with Bondy. How well you could play guitar confirmed all his suspicions.

He helped your hips out of your dress, and let it fall to your feet.

Again, he whispered, “You’re mine.”

His hands snaked up to your breasts and his thumbs curved the swell on the underside of the flesh. He caressed your arms, and then lifted them over your head, and laid them on the pillows. He tied them loosely with the scarf he used to blindfold you.

With open mouth kisses, he descended from your neck, to your breasts, across your stomach, and down to your underwear. His teeth tugged at the fabric, and he pulled them all the way off, nipping at your ankles before returning between your thighs. He thrust in a finger with no problem; the fact that Van was jealous over you spending time with another man evoked something in you that set off a tidal wave of wetness. You squirmed beneath his touch as he licked, sucked, and finger-fucked the moans out of you, coaxing your deepest frustrations out of you.

“You like that, huh? Can’t get this with him, can you? I’m the only one who gets to fuck you” he whispered into your wetness, blowing on your most sensitive parts. The cool rush of air made you shiver.

Suddenly, he stands up, unbuttoning his shirt, and unbuckling his jeans and boots, the metal clinking as he threw his belt down.

“Come.” He directed you to sit on his lap. Slowly, as he lowered you onto him, your moans pierced the air. “Louder. I want everyone in the neighborhood to know how good you’re being fucked tonight.”  

You rose up on your haunches only to push back down again, skin sticking and you both groaned as you looped your tied hands around his neck, holding onto him, his hands already fully cupped around your breasts, the pads of his thumbs causing your nerve endings to explode as they pass over your nipples.

You felt it start to coil deep in your belly, in the apex of your thighs, as you twisted your hips just right. The delicious feeling trembled through your limbs and into your center. The feel of his hands on your waist, fingers digging into the skin under your hips as he let out a breathy “Oh fuck” and takes you higher. Your hands held tight around his neck for leverage as you sat fully astride him, as he was buried deep inside you.

You gyrated slowly, rubbing against him, moans leaving your lips. You watched his face, his mouth falling open and his bottom lip pulling down as his eyelids fluttered in ecstasy, a look of pure pleasure on his face. His hands fell slack from your chest to come and rest on your moving hips, helping you with the motions as your body started to tighten, ready for a release.

He sat up quickly, folding his knees under him and surprising you as he wrapped both arms around your waist and lied his head against your sternum, panting breath coming out hot against your skin. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, still tied with that black scarf, ends of it tickling his back. Your hands were drifting through his hair, pulling it tightly between your fingers as you moved. The actions caused him to hiss and bite on the upper swell of your breasts and you just couldn’t get enough.

You were pressed up close against him, from groin to torso and his knees were bent, cradling your lower body between his thighs and abdomen. “Oh, my god,” you whispered, as he bit lightly at your nipple and brought a hand down to the curve of your ass, fingers digging in and helping you move faster.

You had never needed a release this bad or this fast before, and with your movements gaining speed and a line of sweat running down the middle of your back and the sound of your bodies moving together and don’t even get started on the whimpers and groans coming from him that had your body finally giving in as you quaked with your release.

Your thighs tighten around the tops of his hips and your whispered “I love you”s and “you feel so good”s bring him over the edge and honestly, if he held you any tighter – your trembling bodies riding out your orgasms together, lips and tongues on necks and promises of more to come etched on your skin – you might just break.

And when he laid you back on the bed, head resting on your stomach and small grin on his face as he kissed your skin lightly, you could hear through his whispered nothings brushing against your skin his own “I love you” surfacing and you couldn’t deny that this time was different – heady and emotional and jealous and so goddamn good you wouldn’t be able to feel your legs tomorrow – than the rest; that somehow you were a little bit closer to Van than you’d ever experienced.

(And two hours later, when you had a leg lifted over his shoulder and his head was between your thighs and the cool tile of the shower was pressed against your back, you thought this might just be what heaven feels like.)

*****

“You’ve got to choose.” Bob said it through a mouthful of muffin. He’d taken you out to lunch with promises of photography and lemonade.

“I know.”

“Both of them are losing it over you.”

“I know.”

Back up a few days, and there was you, blindfolded, in your beautiful black dress, pressed up against the door, Van whispering jealousies in your ear.

What you didn’t know was that Bondy was sitting at the kitchen table, stunned to silence at Van’s blatant territorial display. That he was listening to every moan you made, itching to be the one causing those sounds, dying to see you come undone.

The pain Van had caused him was enough to push Bondy to confide in Bob. And Bob didn’t like being in the middle of people’s drama. Especially when it involved hearing about someone one you love have domineering sex with another person you love. Bob was uncomfortable, to say the least.

“Y/N, they go on tour tomorrow.”

“Bob, I just…. I love them both, alright? Both of them have seen different parts of me. If I’m with one, I miss the other. It’s stupid.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. You’ve been with Van for five years, and these feelings for Bondy have developed over the course of a few months. If I were you, I know who I’d pick. But, I’m not you. I’m sorry. I wish I could choose for you.”

“Should I just let them go off on tour, and not hear from me for a while? Let them get their shit done, and visit later? I really don’t want to be a Yoko.”

*****

You watched them go at it, Benji pointing out every creature in the film trying to explain the best way he can in his nerdy excitement, and Bondy commenting on how stupid the characters sounded or looked. You liked these moments, when everything has died down for a soft quiet moment and you’re not thinking of boys on tour or job promotion or paying rent. It’s just nice.

Wrapping your fingers around the cold metal of his rings, you leaned over to whisper softly in his ear, “It’s a movie, they don’t always have to make sense.” You lifted his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders as you nuzzled into his side, resting your head on his chest.

He groaned, the noise reverberating in your ear. “Yeah, well, they should try and explain it better for people like me, darling.”

You laughed, fingers dropping to poke at his thigh. “You’re in a band that tours the world, I’m sure figuring out the complexities of Star Wars is the least of your issues.”

He quieted down, rubbing his thumb along the tip of your nose as you raised your eyes up to look at him. Playfully rolling his own eyes, he conceded, “Whatever you say, love.”

You preened, eyes crinkling in the corners as your lips rested on his, a smile pulling through at the easy intimacy.

You pulled apart as you hear childish phony gagging beside you and Bondy laughs as you playfully swat at the curls hanging in Benji’s face. “Like I don’t have to see you kissing Dani on the doorstep every afternoon,” you said, raising your eyebrows with a pointed look.

He flushes deeply, bowing his head bashfully. “Yeah, yeah.”  He wipes his hands on his dark black jeans as he stands. “Anyways, I got to hit the hay. I got a meeting for really early tomorrow.”

You tilted your head. “Wait, what about the rest of the movie?”

“Just finish it without me, mum. It’s not like I haven’t seen it a million times.” He smirked. “Night guys.”

“Night,” you said, eyebrows creasing and skepticism rising.

“Night, lad.” Bondy stretched out on the sofa as Benji disappeared around the corner. He raised his arms, groaning lightly as his muscles protest the action. His velvet shirt lifted up slightly, and your eyes were immediately drawn to the strip of skin and dusting of hair on his abdomen. Your heart jumped as the sight. His eyes locked onto you, smiling softly. “What is it? Think he’s gone to bed a bit to early?”

You giggled, lifting your legs to curl underneath yourself as you faced him. “Oh yeah, totally. I mean, it’s only 8:30.”

“Oh,” he bit his lip, eyes drifting to your lips. “Well, in that case…” His voice drifted off as his hand curved around the neck of your shirt, bringing you closer. His breath ghosted over your lips as he left a small peck, his hand reaching up to caress your jaw. You deepened the kiss, moaning as you tilted your chin just so, hand reaching forward to wrap around his knee. His tongue ran over his lips, tangling with yours and it just felt so damn good.

You sighed against his lips as he fell back along the couch, pulling you on top of him. “And what about the movie?” Your breath stuttered as his hand found itself resting in your back jean pocket, forcing your hips to rock against his.

“Another time,” he groaned out, his lips coasting from your lips to your jaw to the curve of your neck. Your eyes rolled back, whole body dropping into his as you gave in.

“Shit!” you exclaimed, waking up from the dream drenched in a cold sweat, breathing ragged and electrified. “No. No fucking way. No.” You rolled out of bed, peeled off your clothes, and stood under the shower. Bob was right. You needed to choose.

*****

Saying goodbye was hard. They left, and you didn’t kiss either of them in front of each other. You and Van shared a few sweet kisses in his bedroom that morning, and you kissed Bondy’s cheek when Van went to find the toilet at the airport.

A few months had gone by, and you’d heard from Bondy about as much as Van. They were both pining for you, even abroad, but you let that settle to the back of your mind. You had been working hard, doing long hours at the music shop, and managing sales at another music shop down the block. This one was corporate owned, and you were quickly becoming one of their favorite saleswomen, especially since you could play guitar almost as well as Bondy could. You were still extremely thankful for his help.

You had saved up enough money to fly out to visit them for a few days in any American city you chose. Did someone say, Miss Independent?

Stepping off the flight in California, you were nervous. Heart pounding as you greeted the both of them, trying not to give one more attention than the other. They, however, had other plans. The first night after their show, the boys took you out to a club, and offered to buy you any drink you wanted on the menu. Bob rolled his eyes the entire time, sipping his virgin bloody mary, and you got drunker and drunker, and started falling all over both Bondy and Van. 

It was Bondy who won the opportunity to dance with you; he managed to bribe the club owner to play Tame Impala over the speakers, and since that was the music of your friendship, you had no choice but to take Bondy’s hand and lead him, walking backwards, to the dance floor. You ground against him, hot and sweaty under the lights, while Van sipped his drink. He was enjoying this; he didn’t know just how 50/50 you were split on your attraction.

It was Van who won the opportunity to let his lips touch yours; the dancing had shaken Bondy up so much that he had to dart to the bathroom soon after the regular music was back on. You weren’t down from your dancing high yet, and you needed to feel something. Someone. You grabbed Van by the neck and smashed your lips against his; he returned the favor with as much fervor and passion as you had begun with. Bondy watched from afar when he emerged from the bathroom, only thirty seconds later.

That first night, you ended up in your hotel room with Van.

On the last night of your stay, after drinks were shared all around, you asked Bondy to play guitar with you in a back room, for old time’s sake. As you drunkenly tried to finger the strings properly, miserably failing, Bondy tried the same.

“Helloooo? Anyone here?” Van called from the hallway, obviously drunk too. He was enjoying these games too much.

“Quick! In here!” You giggled, forcing Bondy into the storage closet, leaving your guitars propped against the wall. You heard Van open the door, and Bondy started to breathe like a laugh was coming on.

You pressed your finger to his plump lips; the contrast between his pokey beard and the soft skin of his lips stirred something in you. You paused, waiting for the coast to be clear, feeling a slight tingling inside. You became hyper aware of how close you and Bondy were in the closet; his fingers brushing your thighs, his knee touching yours, his hair tickling your cheek.

Bondy moved your finger away from his mouth. His breath fanned over your face.

“I can’t take this anymore.”

He pressed his lips to yours, and his fingers wound themselves in your hair. Your noses knocked and your teeth clinked. You couldn’t get close to him quickly enough. His knee spread your legs, moving to press closer to you. You kissed back, relishing the feeling of his lips and tongue finally on yours. He kissed rougher than Van, but his movements were more calculated. One of his hands traveled to grip your ass, the other still tightly wound in your hair. Your hands were on his chest, quickly traveling lower. When you imagined what his fingers would feel like inside you, how well he played the guitar and how strong his hands looked, you moaned. It was muffled in his mouth. His hands felt for the waistband of your shorts, already knowing what you desired. He pulled the shorts and underwear down in one motion, and he felt how soaking you were for him. He inserted a finger, and you almost lost yourself completely. Two, and you were gone.

There was no room for sex in the closet, so Bondy made do with what he could; not like his hands weren’t the most magical things that had ever graced you. All those years of melody guitar playing were paying off in a way you’d never thought they could. He hit every angle that would make you scream, he’d whisper lowly in your ear, comforting you, guiding you, and he sucked your neck, beard tickling wherever he kissed, sure to leave bruises behind. He picked up speed and you pressed your head against his chest, but he made you look him in the eye as your climax rushed over you in powerful waves. When the last whimper was uttered, teeth released bitten lips, his fingers slid out of you, your pants were pulled up, and he had found some stray napkins for his hands, the door swung open. Cold air rushed in. Van was standing with his arms crossed.

“We need to talk.”  

****

“There’s no way I can decide this right now,” you told them. “I love both of you.” You were far from settled. You were still a little drunk, too.

“What about something completely random?” Van asked. Bondy was silent. Scared that the storage room closet was the only taste he’d ever get of you.

“Oh! Oh. I’ve got it.” You look around, searching for your purse. Picking it up, you trawled the inside of it with your fingers. You pulled a coin out and showed it to them.

"So... we flip for it." Trying to steady your shaking hands, you held it tightly. "One of you, call it."

"Heads!" Van yelled, and the coin deftly left your hand, twinkled above you, flipping over, and over, and over, with either boy’s fate engraved on the sides. Finally, it fell back to your hand. You picked it up quickly, and flipped it onto the back of your hand. You took a deep breath, and opened your eyes. You moved your fingers out of the way so they could see.

Their heads leaned in. They both stared at each other.

"Best two out of three?"

[thecontentedreader]

It’s time for another book haul post! My reading has not been as great as it had been during the summer. I’m back to school and working towards finishing up my teaching degree -which is taking up the majority of my time. That being said, I have picked up some books this month that I am really looking forward to jumping into! My book haul this month is under the cut! 

Book: The Young Elites | Author: Marie Lu | Publisher: G.P. Putnam’s Sons Books for Young Readers | Format: Paperback | Pages: 384 | Genres: Fantasy / Young Adult / Romance

Synopsis:

Adelina Amouteru is a survivor of the blood fever. A decade ago, the deadly illness swept through her nation. Most of the infected perished, while many of the children who survived were left with strange markings. Adelina’s black hair turned silver, her lashes went pale, and now she has only a jagged scar where her left eye once was. Her cruel father believes she is a malfetto, an abomination, ruining their family’s good name and survivors are rumoured to possess more than just scars - they are believed to have mysterious and powerful gifts, and though their identities remain secret, they have come to be called the Young Elites. 

Teren Santoro works for the king. As Leader of the Inquisition Axis, it is his job to seek out the Young Elites, to destroy them before they destroy the nation. He believes the Young Elites to be dangerous and vengeful, but it’s Teren who may possess the darkest secret of all. 

Enzo Valenciano is a member of the Dagger Society. This secret sect of Young Elites seeks out others like them before the Inquisition Axis can. But when the Daggers find Adelina, they discover someone with powers like they’ve never seen. 

Adelina wants to believe Enzo is on her side, and that Teren is the true enemy. But the lives of these three will collide in unexpected ways, as each fights a very different and personal battle. But of one thing they are all certain: Adelina has abilities that shouldn’t belong in this world. A vengeful blackness in her heart. And a desire to destroy all who dare to cross her.  

Why I Bought It:

When I was in my local Chapters recently, they asked me if I wanted to donate two dollars to a local school and in exchange I got to ‘pick a date’ with a book. Beside the counter they had a number of books wrapped up with different things written on the front. Some books had a genre written across it, while others had one word to describe the theme of the book. I loved the concept of being introduced to a book without having any preconceived notions about it. I picked up a wrapped up book that had “YA read for the young and fearless” on the front. It turned out to be The Young Elites by Marie Lu! I am super excited to read this book. I haven’t read any of her books before and have only heard wonderful things. I can’t wait to dive into it. 

Book: The Chemist | Author: Stephenie Meyer | Publisher: Back Bay Books | Format: Paperback | Pages: 528 | Genres: Fiction / Thriller / Mystery / Romance

Synopsis:

She used to work for the U.S. government, but very few people ever knew that. An expert in her field, she was one of the darkest secrets of an agency so clandestine it doesn’t even have a name. And when they decided she was a liability, they came for her without warning. 

Now she rarely stays in the same place or uses the same name for long. They’ve killed the only other person she trusted, but something she knows still poses a threat. They want her dead, and soon. 

When her former handler offers her a way out, she realizes it’s her only chance to erase the giant target on her back. But it means taking one last job for her ex-employers. To her horror, the information she acquires only makes her situation more dangerous. 

Resolving to meet the threat head-on, she prepares for the toughest fight of her life but finds herself falling for a man who can only complicate her likelihood of survival. As she sees her choices being rapidly whittled down, she must apply her unique talents in ways she never dreamed of. 

Why I Bought It:

While Twilight was an entertaining series, it was never one of my favourite series to read. I enjoyed the books and the movies but it was never something I obsessed over like many other people my age did at the time. Meyer’s other novel The Host, however, is one of my favourite books. While some people I’ve talked to haven’t been fans of The Host, I most certainly have.

I was at Costco with my mom a couple of weeks ago and saw The Chemist and figured I should pick it up. I’m really curious to see if her next adult novel will be as enjoyable to me as The Host was. My hopes are up high, so I hope it doesn’t disappoint! 

Book: I See London, I See France | Author: Sarah Mlynowski | Publisher: HarperTeen | Format: Hardcover | Pages: 378 | Genres: YA / Contemporary / Romance / Travel 

Synopsis:

Nineteen-year-old Sydney has the perfect summer mapped out. She’s spending the next four and a half weeks traveling through Europe with her childhood best friend, Leela. Their plans include Eiffel-Tower selfies, eating cocco gelato, and making out with très hot strangers. Her plans do not include Leela’s cheating ex-boyfriend showing up on the flight to London, falling for the cheating ex-boyfriend’s très hot friend, monitoring her mother’s spiraling mental health via texts, or feeling like the rope in a friendship tug-of-war. 

As Sydney zigzags through Amsterdam, Switzerland, Italy, and France, she must learn when to hold on, when to keep moving, and when to jump into the Riviera ... wearing only her polka-dot underpants. 

Why I Bought It:

First: the cover. How could I pass up an amazingly gorgeous cover like this one. It’s perfect. Do judge a book by its cover when it looks like this one (haha!). Second: the author is Canadian! I really love supporting Canadian authors when I have the chance too and I’ve heard some great things about Mlynowski. Third: the synopsis of the book reminded me so much of Love, Lucy by April Lindner (read my review here) and Love and Gelato by Jenna Evans Welch (read my review here). Passing up contemporary travel reads just isn’t in my vocabulary! I cannot wait to give this book a read! 

Book: The Anne of Green Gables Cookbook: Charming Recipes from Anne and Her Friends in Avonlea | Author: Kate Macdonald | Publisher: Race Point Publishing | Format: Hardcover | Pages: 112 | Genres: Nonfiction / Childrens / Cookbook

Synopsis:

Avonlea beckons in this cookbook inspired by the most famous Canadian children’s book, L.M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables. “Kindred spirits” both young and old will enjoy experiencing late-nineteenth-century Prince Edward Island firsthand through the delicious recipes culled from the eight books in the Anne of Green Gables series. 

From Poetical Egg Salad Sandwiches, to Anne’s Liniment Cake and Diana Barry’s Favourite Raspberry Cordial, these recipes are easy to prepare and delicious to serve up any day, on a weekend, or for special occasions! With full-colour photography, whimsical illustrations, and quotes and anecdotes from the books, get ready to be immersed in Anne Shirley’s world. 

Why I Bought It:

Anne of Green Gables has been a staple book series in my house. I was Anne for halloween one year, I’ve been to Prince Edward Island (where the book was set) and to a museum in Bala, Ontario. The author and the book are Canadian and like I said before, I really love supporting Canadian authors and stories. Needless to say, Anne of Green Gables has been a large part of my life. The author of this cookbook is Lucy Maud Montgomery’s granddaughter and her father, L.M. Montgomery’s son, was the doctor who delivered my mom into this world! 

We heard that Kate Macdonald would be at our local chapters to chat about the cookbook and sign copies. My mom jumped at the opportunity to meet Kate and tell Kate the story of how her father delivered my mom. Kate was absolutely wonderful to meet and was so genuinely pleased to hear the story. She said that she loves hearing stories like that and to know the different people that her father brought into this world. I can’t wait to try out some of these recipes and immerse myself more into Anne’s world! 

Book: Turtles All the Way Down | Author: John Green | Publisher: Dutton Books | Format: Hardcover | Pages: 286 | Genres: YA / Contemporary / Fiction 

Synopsis:

Sixteen-year-old Aza never intended to pursue the mystery of fugitive billionaire Russell Pickett, but there’s a hundred-thousand-dollar reward at stake and her Best and Most Fearless Friend, Daisy, is eager to investigate. So together, they navigate the short distance and broad divices that separate them from Russell Pickett’s son, Davis. 

Aza is trying. She is trying to be a good daughter, a good friend, a good student, and maybe even a good detective, while also living within the ever-tightening spiral of her own thoughts. 

Why I Bought It:

I was a fan of The Fault in Our Stars. Similar to Twilight, I didn’t become obsessed with it like most people but I certainly enjoyed the writing of John Green. I haven’t read any of his other books even though I own them all. But there was something that drew me towards this book and I’m really curious to see how I enjoy it. 

I was invited by Penguin to attend the 2017 Fall Gift Show at their Toronto office on October 19th. One of the perks for attending was receiving a 20% discount at the Penguin Shop (which is the tiniest little shop ever!). I actually had no plans of buying any books because I have so many on my TBR shelf right now. But, I saw this book with a tiny little sticker on it that said “Signed Copy.” How could I walk away from a book that I will eventually read that was signed? Yeah, not a chance. I’m really looking forward to reading and reviewing this book and seeing how John Green’s long awaited return plays out!