#As much as I love this lad it still feels like a weird grey area to me

[musecheerios]

I'd like to point out to those who are familiar with the Puyo games, and that while I'm the most sinful on this blog, I really do not plan on being that way with Lemres anytime soon 'cause he's too pure for that.

[hollandbaby]

roommates - t.h smut

a/n: um so i haven’t written in a long time pls be kind. this is just a 4.9k one shot based on how i’m feeling, sexually frustrated, but unfortunately I’m not in lockdown with tom so cannot have sex with him. also I’m tipsy. AND feedback is much appreciated

warnings; smut, oral (f receiving), daddy kink, choking, biting, scratching, super long intro

You had lived with your lifetime best friend, Tom, for just over a year now, alongside his best friends Harrison and Tuwaine and his younger brother Harry. There was never a dull moment in the house, even when Tom’s away filming the other boys provide just as much entertainment. You’re used to spending lots of time with the boys, but when it’s announced lockdown was in place, it took a toll on everyone. Tom is unable to work which is a benefit considering he’s allowed to actually rest finally, plus he’s around a lot more which is nice. Harrison is always practicing his juggling which is entertaining until he breaks your favourite lamp. Tuwaine and Harry tends to keep to themselves, mostly playing video games or working from home. But boy was the house becoming messy. 

“Alright, who’s underwear are these and why are they on the living room floor!?” You shout to the house, picking up the pants by the broom you had in your hand.

“Whadda they look like?” Shouts Harry, most likely on his laptop editing something.

“Grey Calvin’s but I know all of you own at least one pair so it’s not very helpful!”

You move to put them in the laundry basket by the washing machine, carrying on with your cleaning by sweeping the kitchen floor. Tom emerges from the bathroom, in just a pair of grey sweats and a towel wrapped around his neck, you try not to let yourself get distracted but it’s hard when you can see a single drop of water make its way down his toned, bronzed torso.

“Sorry, love, I think they may be mine,” he chuckles as he goes to fill the kettle for a cup of tea. He leans against the kitchen island, drying off his hair with his towel.

“What the fuck are they doing in the communal living room?” You ask, laughing as well. Living with boys may be hard sometimes due to the mess and the fact they’re all super dumb, but it’s so endearing and you have good times.

“I dunno, I probably threw them at one of the boys as a joke.” Tom giggles to himself but you roll your eyes.

“Well next time you throw your dirty laundry at someone pick it up after, doofus.” You chuckle, walking past Tom to head to your room for your wash bag before going for a shower. You turn the shower on and start to undress. You found yourself thinking about Tom, and the way he looked after his shower earlier, his wet curly hair all floppy and cute, water droplets falling onto his broad chest and toned abs. You’d never really thought about him sexually before, obviously he’s an attractive man and you’ve been close friends with him since you were kids, he knows you better than anyone, but you’d never realised just how hot he is. Maybe it was because you hadn’t had sex in over a month due to lockdown or maybe it’s because you’ve been able to spend more time with Tom recently, but there’s a familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach that stretches all the way down to your core. You bite your lip, stepping under the hot water, steam filling the bathroom as you try to wash away your sins.

You’re cooking dinner for everyone, Harrison, Harry and Tuwaine playing some game in the living room and Tom is just watching, laughing along with them. Tom looks over the sofa to you, watching your movements for a second before getting up off the sofa and walking to the kitchen.

“Need any help, darlin’?” He asks, as you chop up some vegetables.

“You can chop up some onions with me?” You smile at him, and he gets a feeling in the pit of his stomach. You both continue chopping and cooking the meal, Tom drinking beer and you wine as you both dance around the kitchen and giggle and sing with each other. You call the boys into the dining area, serving up dinner and grabbing drinks for all the boys. As you turn from the fridge to place the beers on the counter, Tom is already stood behind you, making you jump. He grabs your waist to steady you, and you’re grateful you didn’t drop any of the bottles.

“Sorry, love,” he chuckles as your face heats up, a mixture of the fact Tom’s warm hands are still on your waist and you just had a close call to a very messy and classy clean up.

“S’okay, I’m just glad I didn’t drop any of these! The boys would kill me,” you pop open all the bottles, attempting to grab them along with your bottle of wine AND glass.

“Woah there, darling, I’ll grab those for you,” Tom takes three of the bottles from you, letting out a breathy laugh at your disgruntled facial expression, your bottom lip slightly jutted out and hair falling in your face.

“Thank you,” you smile and pick up your wine and glass, following Tom’s lead back to the table.

The boys are all chatting away, dishing up their dinners as you and Tom place their beers down in front of them.

“Thank you so much for cooking, Y/N, we’ll wash up.” Harrison says, smiling at you.

“Will we?” Tuwaine chimes in, looking confused.

“Bro shut up.” Harry says, you roll your eyes but you’re laughing alongside them.

“Well maybe after dinner, and after Haz, Harry and Tuwaine wash up, we can do something together?” You suggest, sipping your wine before munching some more.

“Sounds good. What did you have in mind?” Asks Tom, eager to spend some time with you.

“Well we could all play some card games or a board game?”

And that’s how you end up drunkenly giggling at 1AM over monopoly.

“How the fuck did I get go to jail again?!”

“Unlucky Baz man, looks like you’re in jail again,” you giggle, moving his figurine to the jail space.

“How are you doing so well at this game Y/N? It’s like you’re the monopoly mastermind,” Harrison asks, slurring the M’s slightly.

“I dunno man I used to play a lot with my family, plus it’s a game of chance.”

“Well it’s a fucking stupid game of chance,” Harry chimes in, pouting at the fact he has to miss a go.

“Shut up, dickhead, you love this game,” Tom grabs Harry by his shoulders and puts him in a headlock, ruffling his hair.

“Tom!” Harry exclaims, thrashing around. He kicks the board, knocking all the houses and hotels and cards everywhere.

“Harry!” shouts Harrison, clearly angry at the fact he’s lost his place and cannot for the life of him remember where it was.

“Oh my god you’re all idiots,” you laugh, Tuwaine exclaiming a “hey don’t put me in that category with them!”

You finish the last gulp of your wine before attempting to stand up to grab another bottle. You steady yourself on Tom’s shoulder before heading over to the fridge. You can feel his eyes on you as you pour yourself some more wine, but he quickly looks away when you turn back around. The lads are all laughing together on the floor, sipping beers and being stupid.

“What’re you all laughing at?” You ask, smiling, as you go to join them on the floor, Tom’s hand gently grabbing yours to help you sit.

“Harry’s suggesting we play never have I ever,” Tuwaine laughs.

“It wasn’t just me! Harrison suggested it I just said sure why not!”

“God you’re all a bunch of kids. Alright, are we playing or not?” You ask, getting confident from the booze.

“I know I suggested it but the room is spinning so much right now I think I’m gonna throw up,” Harrison states, hiccuping.

“Wow, good one genius. Alright, let’s get you to bed. Night all,” Tuwaine gets up, picking Haz up in the process and wrapping his arm around his waist, guiding Harrison to his room before making his way to his own.

“Aaaand I’d rather go to bed than stay up for whatever weird shit is gonna happen between you two,” Harry says standing up and chugging the rest of his beer, “peace out.”

“And then there were two,” Tom chuckles, starting to pack away the long forgotten monopoly board. You help him, placing pieces in their respective compartments and giggling with each other.

“So how about that game of never have I ever?” You ask biting your lip. You look at Tom to find he’s already looking at you, cheeks flushed and a curl falling into his face.

“Sure,” he chuckles breathily, “I’ll just grab another beer.” You smile to yourself as you watch Tom walk to the kitchen, biting your lower lip as you realise you shouldn’t be staring at his ass as he walks away. Tom returns to the living room, you’ve moved onto the sofa now, put some music on and your feet up on the coffee table in front of you. He plops down on the sofa next to you and smiles, taking a swig of his beer.

“Alright. Never have I ever pissed my pants from laughing,” Tom chuckles to himself as you slap his chest.

“That was ONE time and it was a TINY amount!” You huff, taking a swig of your drink. You smirk as you pull your legs up onto the sofa, turning to face Tom. “Never have I ever tried to impress a girl by doing a backflip but it ending up awfully badly and I broke my wrist.”

“For fucks sake,” Tom throws his head back and groans, taking a swig of his drink. “She still went on a date with me though, I assume out of pity. Okay, ummm, never have I ever had sex in a park.” He’s smirking this time, knowing full well you definitely had.

“I was 16 and fucking stupid. Guy was a douche anyway. Okay never have I ever, been walked in on.” You laugh at this one. Harrison loved telling the story of the time he walked in on Tom and some girl he’d brought home from a bar.

“For fucks sake, I wish everyone would stop bringing that one up.” He drinks, keeping eye contact with you. “Never have I ever had sex with a roommate,” he licks his lips, watching as you take another sip of your wine. “How’s that even happen?”

“You know the story, Tom, I had to move out because of how awkward it got.” You frown at him, these never have i evers we’re getting too real. “Okay, never have I ever had phone sex.” You watch Tom roll his eyes and take a swig of his beer.

“You mean to tell me you’ve never had phone sex?”

“No, what’s the point when I could just have sex with someone?”

“What if you’re far away from someone you’re dating and can’t go see them? I was working on set you know.”

“I know that! These are to try and get you drunk Mr Holland that’s the aim of the game,” you smile at him, “your turn.”

“Never have I ever,” he trails off, lips pursing as he thinks of one to say, “never have I ever had a threesome.”

You pause for a second, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinting wondering if he knew you’d had a threesome before or if he was just curious. Either way, you take a sip of your drink.

“Now, this I’ve got to hear,” Tom’s smirking, an eyebrow raised as he waits for the story.

“I thought you knew! Oh, god. So it was my first year of uni, I was fresh out of a bad relationship, exploring my options etc you know. I start having sex with this guy regularly, just causal stuff no feelings involved. One day he comes round, then this girl calls him and he asks if she can come for drinks too. Obviously I say yes because I’m already tipsy and open to anything. She comes round, we end up drinking 3 bottles of wine each and it just, happened.” You look to Tom, after taking a sip of your wine, your cheeks flushed but it’s nothing compared to the look of shock on Tom’s face. He’s aroused at the idea but he won’t let you know that. His mouth is agape, then he licks his lips and smirks.

“Wow who knew you were crazy like that?”

You slap his chest, “shut up! I bet you’ve been up to some crazy stuff. I’m surprised you’ve not had a threesome yet.”

“I’m not the type of man to share, darling.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Besides, it was a foursome.”

“Ahhh and there it is.” You roll your eyes and smile, finishing off your drink. “Be a darling and grab my bottle from the fridge please, Tommy?” He tuts at your demand, nevertheless standing and going to grab your bottle. He grabs himself another beer too. You smile and thank him as he fills your glass, putting the bottle on the floor in case you need a refill. “I miss sex. That’s the worst part about all this shit.”

“Oh, totally agree. Stupid lockdown.” Tom sighs, sitting back down on the sofa next to you. You place your glass on the coffee table, turning to face Tom fully, resting your arm on the back of the sofa.

“What if we had sex?”

Tom spits his drink out, coughing and spluttering, getting his spat beer all over his white t shirt. “Shit. Um, what?”

“C’mon, we’re both adults with needs, it doesn’t have to be a big deal. Just a one time thing, a favour, to release all the sexual frustrations we’re both clearly experiencing since we don’t have dick or pussy on tap at the moment.” You pick your wine back up, taking a long swig before continuing. “I could just give you a blowie and we can go our separate ways.”

“Y/N, we live together. You said last time you did something like this it didn’t end well.”

“That was only a bad idea with my past roommate because he became obsessed with me after. Tom, we don’t have to do it it was just a suggestion.” You don’t know if it’s because the alcohol has given you a load of confidence or if it’s because you’ve not had sex in a long time but what you do know is that Tom is very attractive, especially when he runs his hand through his floppy curls, his white shirt tightening around his bicep. You lick your lips as your eyes rake up and down his body. You meet his brown eyes, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip.

“Conditions?”

“We can do whatever you want. My only condition is, we need a safe word. Actually, that and we probably shouldn’t tell the others what happened.”

“Agreed. Safe word can be pineapple.”

“Pineapple?” You laugh, leaning closer to Tom. You can smell his cologne, and it’s absolutely divine.

“I dunno. It was the first thing that came to mind.” He leans closer into you as well. “What’re you into?” His eyes flick to your lips and back up to your eyes.

“Hair pulling, biting, scratching, choking, spanking, call me babygirl or a good girl and I’m a goner. You?”

“Same, but call me Tommy or baby. Maybe daddy as well, depends how rough we’re going I guess.”

You put your glass back on the coffee table after finishing your wine, moving to straddle Tom’s lap. “Okay, Tommy, looks like we’re doing this.” You move in, testing the waters, eyes flickering between Tom’s and his lips. You can already feel the heat in your core and the wetness in your panties, your thin shorts barely protecting you from the feeling of Tom’s arousal in his grey sweats. He caves first, crashing his lips against yours and moving them oh so deliciously against your own. Your eyes instantly shut, your hands combing through his hair before gripping onto his brunette curls. Tom lets his empty bottle drop onto the sofa, long forgotten as his own hands move to your hips. His tongue experiments by licking your top lip, asking for entrance which you more than gladly grant him. Your tongue dances against his, your hips subconsciously grinding against his already hard cock. You let out a rough, breathy moan into his mouth, Tom’s hands moving to your ass, feeling the skin that your shorts don’t cover. He pulls back, panting and lips glossy and red.

“Your room or mine?”

“Whichever’s closest.” You kiss him again, letting out a slightly startled noise as he stands, picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, hands gripping onto his shoulders whilst his are gripping your ass. You peck his lips, kissing down his neck as he walks you to his room. It’s closest to the living room and nearest to the bathroom so it’s a win win for you. You open Tom’s door for him, he almost drops you when you do but luckily you grip back onto him, accidentally scratching his back. Tom lets out a hiss, but it’s not with pain, more so pleasure at the feeling of your nails digging into him. It makes him wonder how amazing your nails will feel scratching down his back while he’s fucking into you. He throws you on his bed, and you briefly note how clean and tidy his room is considering he’s so chaotic. Tom removes his (slightly damp with beer) shirt and is on top of you in an instant, his lips meeting yours again in a messy kiss, teeth and tongue in the mix. You wrap your legs around his waist, his hips grinding down into your own as your hands rake through his hair, tugging on tufts as you sloppily kiss. He pulls away, his lips moving down to your neck and nipping and sucking there. You let out a moan, your eyes rolling back as Tom’s mouth works wonders on you. Your hips buck up into his and his hand moves from the bed to your body, trailing down your neck and chest to the hem of your vest top, tugging on it as a signal for you to take it off. You listen, moving your arms down to the hem to rip your top off, Tom instantly moving down your body, his lips kissing your chest before his hand moves round to your back and unclasps your bra. He pulls it off you, his mouth making its way to your nipple as his eyes look up into yours. You scrunch your eyebrows in pleasure, biting your bottom lip as you moan lowly. You don’t even notice Tom’s hand trailing down your body until it reaches your clothed pussy, your hips instantly jerking up to meet his hand. A mixture of Tom’s tongue on your nipple and his fingers rubbing your clit through your shorts is giving you a feeling you’ve not felt in a while. Yes you’ve been getting yourself off but there’s something so different about someone else’s touch that feels so fucking amazing.

“Do you know how fucking hot you look in these shorts, baby? I’ve wanted to rip them off you all evening.” Tom moans out, he can feel your wetness through the material.

“Do it, then.” You smirk, but your breath is hoarse and raspy. You let out a gasp as Tom practically rips your shorts from your body, along with your underwear. He wastes no time moving down your body, lips leaving a wet trail of kisses on your scorching skin. Hiking your legs up so your feet are flat on the bed, he kisses your hips, then down your left thigh, as your hands make their way to his hair. Tom looks up into your eyes as he licks closer and closer to your wet pussy, his mouth hovering over you, causing you to grind your hips up in an attempt to meet his tongue. He finally ends the torturous teasing, gently licking his tongue through your folds and to your clit, you throw your head back and let out a soft ‘oh, fuck’. Tom’s fingers make their way up your body, gently teasing your nipple as his tongue massages your clit, your hips meeting his movements as you let out small, breathy moans.

“Fuck, Tom, fingers please,” your voice is broken and still raspy, but Tom makes eye contact with you again and the moan you let out is much louder than before. You throw your head back again, writhing against him.

“What do want, baby girl? Hm? Want my fingers inside you?” His breath is cool against your warm skin, his eyes searching for yours.

“Yes!” You attempt to buck your hips up again but Tom’s hands hold them in place.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, please, daddy!” Your voice is broken and your attempt to keep quiet is ineffective. Tom moves his right hand from your hip, his tongue returning back to your clit as he slowly pumps a finger into you, curling it up to reach your g spot. He has you writhing beneath him, adding another fingers stretching you out as his tongue laps at your clit, your hands grip his hair as you grind against his mouth, breathy moans escaping your lips. You bite your lip as your eyes roll to the back of your head, you figured Tom would be good in bed but, god, he was so much better than you expected.

“I’m close, Tommy,” he all but growls into your pussy at the nickname, fingers picking up speed as he sucks on your clit gently. One of your hands flies up to your face, biting down on your arm to stop yourself from letting out an extremely loud moan as you cum. Tom slows his movements, helping you ride out your high. He removes his fingers from you, looking into your eyes as he licks them clean. You bite your lip and let out a soft groan at the sight of him, pulling him up to you so you can kiss his lips, allowing your tongue to massage his. You can taste yourself on him, only making you moan into his mouth as you kiss. You pull on his sweats, pushing them down his thighs along w his boxers. Tom pulls them the rest of the way off and you roll onto him, pinning him to the bed with your thighs. Your lips never leaving his in a sloppy, wet, tipsy kiss. You’re overwhelmed by his senses, his hot skin, his sexy scent, his soft curls and the way his teeth occasionally nibble on your bottom lip. You start grinding your hips against Tom’s hard cock, his hands flying to your hips as you do so.

“You’re so fucking wet for me aren’t you, baby girl?” Tom growls against your lips, feeling your wetness on his skin.

You moan against his lips, nodding your head, “do you have a condom?”

“Yeah, bedside table, 2nd drawer down.” You reach over him to the nightstand, retrieving a condom, opening it with your teeth before rolling it onto Tom’s cock. Tom lets out a hiss at the contact, throwing his head back and panting as your hand moves up and down him, before you lift up and slide down onto his cock. His hands instantly grab onto your ass, nails digging into the skin as you find a pace, adjusting to his size. He was bigger than you were expecting but, fuck, did it feel good. You pick up the pace, hips moving up and down as Tom’s hand moves from your ass cheek to your clit, using his middle finger to circle the bundle of nerves. He’s grunting with each move you make, and your head falls back as you continue riding him. He moves his other hand off your ass and brings it back down in a harsh slap, your skin jiggling and a sharp moan escaping your lips. He smirks up at you, your body dropping forward, hands moving to rest by his head as you keep the movements of your hips. He slaps your ass again, massaging the red skin there as you bite your lip, looking into his eyes. You reach your right hand to around his throat, gently squeezing. Something snaps in Tom at that, planting his feet on the bed to get leverage to thrust up into you, fucking you from underneath, he grabs a handful of your hair and fastens the pace of his fingers on your clit.

“Fuck, Tommy!” You moan, trying to keep quiet but it’s hard when he’s fucking you so good, the arch in your back allowing him to go deeper, creating a delicious feeling. “I want you to fuck me from behind.” You’re panting and your voice is quiet but Tom hears you loud and clear.

“Fuck, love, you’re so hot,” he pulls out, rolling you over onto your front, your arms reaching in front of you, chest on the bed as your knees widen and your ass is in the air, Tom slaps your ass as he moves behind you, sliding his hard cock between your fold and collecting your wetness before he thrusts back into you.

“Shit, you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” Another slap on your ass as he fucks into you, hands grabbing your hips for leverage.

“Yes, baby, keep fucking me like that!” You moan into the sheets. Tom reaches forward and grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your back up against his torso, fucking up into you. His hand slides around to grip your throat as he continues fucking you, his lips leaving sloppy kisses on your neck and cheek. He nibbles on your ear lightly, your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure. Tom’s other hand snakes it’s way around your waist down your body, his middle fingers circling your clit. Your head is resting on his shoulder, your hand coming round to pull on his hair as he continues fucking you, Tom’s grunts and groans right in your ear as his lips caress the skin there.

“So fuckin tight, baby, jesus,” Tom’s breath is hot on your neck leaving goosebumps all over your body as you moan at his words. “I want you to cum for me baby, can you do that?”

“Yes, Tommy, I’m so close,” you groan, but Tom pulls away completely. You’re shocked and disgruntled before you realise he’s throwing you on your back, spreading your thighs and thrusting back into you. You grab his shoulders, nails digging in as Tom fucks you, harder than before. Your moans are muffled by the skin of his shoulder, you bite down on his skin, sucking, most likely leaving a mark but you don’t care, too consumed with the fire in your stomach as your orgasm approaches.

“Rub my clit, please,” you breathe out, one of Tom’s hands moving from your thigh to between your legs, resuming his movements on your clit from before. He fucks you in a rhythm, your nails scratching down his back as he does so, Tom’s hair is falling in his face and tickling yours but you don’t care, he looks so hot like this, sweaty and panting above you. Your toes curl and your pussy clenches around him, his cock pounding into you, and it’s like nothing you’ve felt before.

“I’m gonna cum, Tommy!” You throw your head back, letting out a moan as Tom’s fingers rub your clit faster and he fucks you harder, his lips crashing against yours as you reach your high. Tom follows shortly after, sloppily thrusting into you as he cums in the condom. Tom collapses on top of you, your breathing steadying as you play with his hair. After a minute, he pulls out and discards of the condom, flopping onto the bed beside you, opening his arm to you so you can roll into his side.

“Well, that was ... wow,” you sigh contentedly. Your breathing is starting to slow down and a wave of exhaustion hits you. You rest your head on Tom’s bare chest, one of his fingers curling a piece of your hair around it.

“Oh, god yeah it was, something else.” He chuckles, pressing a light peck to your forehead.

“I should probably go to the bathroom then back to my room.” You sigh, you don’t want to move though. You’re absorbing Tom’s warmth and it feels so good. You roll off of his chest, pulling his t shirt from off the floor and sliding it on. Tom sits up as you go to collect your things, “you could stay in here tonight? I mean, sex isn’t the only thing I miss.” His face is flush and he smiles sheepishly at you. You smile back and bite your lip, leaning back onto the bed to peck his nose before heading off to the bathroom. Tom thinks you’ve gone to bed, sighing in defeat and flopping back against his sheets. You go to clean up, making your way back to Tom’s room but not before grabbing another 2 bottles of beer first. You return to his room, smiling as you hand him a bottle. He laughs at you as he opens his beer, taking a sip before opening his arms to you, inviting you to sit with him on his bed. He’s got his boxers back on, duvet loosely wrapped around his hips, shifting while he moves. You sit back on the bed with him, taking a sip of your own beer. You both laugh and chat until you finish your drinks, lying down again and falling sleep curled up in Tom’s arms, his hand gently massaging your scalp as he places occasional pecks on your forehead. You realise that maybe this won’t be the last time as you drift off into a peaceful sleep.

[larryfanficwriter98]

Chapter Twenty-One

{Falling In Love Through The Phone}

Very anti-climatic but very important piece that needed added into. We're getting closer to the time jump!!

A few days passed with Harry on the phone with his management team arguing about California. So, it didn't come as a surprise when Louis came home after work to see Harry's carry-on packed with a few things of clothes and his passport, wallet and three sets of keys on the coffee table.

"I hope you're not leaving right away." Louis said

"Unfortunately, I am. I have to leave for the airport soon." Harry said from where he was looking at his phone.

"Want me to come with you?" Louis asked

"No, I'll only be gone a few days. It won't be worth it." Harry said looking at him though his face told Louis a different story. He gave a half smile before he kissed Louis' cheek and headed upstairs. Louis waited a few minutes before he followed him into their room to see Harry looking for something in the closet.

"Can I help?" Louis asked to dispel the weird gut feeling he was getting

"I just need a - can I take this?" Louis raised an eyebrow as Harry held up one of Louis' button ups.

"Yeah, but you have your own and mine will be tight on you."

"Can't find mine." Harry said not looking at him as he exited the closet. Louis looked to Harry's clothes and saw five plain white button ups then looked at Harry who was leaving the bedroom as he folded the shirt. Louis knew Harry wasn't able to look at Louis whenever he lied, most of the time they were small harmless lies like if Harry took his car in the middle of the night to fill his gas tank up before it needed it which he did often, but it always denied it. Other times it was if Harry took his card whenever they went out so Louis couldn't pay for anything which Harry also denied but would somehow find his wallet as soon as they get home. He headed back downstairs and folded his arms watched Harry as he tried to look busy but was really just stalling. "Haz… I don't care if you take my whole wardrobe to L.A, but I do care if you're hiding something from me that I should know about. Before I see it online."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked as he flipped through his passport absentmindedly glancing at Louis briefly.

"Why are you going to L.A?" Louis asked

"Management." Harry said with a shrug

"Yes, I gathered that myself."

"It's nothing. It's just an interview and some p.r. I gotta go. Traffic. Bye. I love you." Harry gathered his things and kissed Louis' lips then cheek before he was out of the house. Louis hugged himself as he stood up and watched through the window as Harry got in the range rover and after a few minutes watched as Harry drove out of the driveway.

Harry kept his head down as he made his way through security with years in his eyed and unable to pull off a full smile. Because the flight was bought a few days ago Harry was seated beside a family in commercial, but he didn't care enough to pay much attention. He had the window seat and took a picture when asked but he knew he wasn't exactly fooling her. His leg was jumpy as he stared out the window occasionally wiping his eyes and opened his phone to look at Louis' Instagram post from a few days ago of reading and rereading the message over and over again. He landed in L.A.X and quickly made his way to his driver then to his L.A home where he slept as soon as he texted Louis he was at the house.

*********

The eight-hour different brought Louis back to their long-distance relationship. The first day passed by slowly considering he didn't get his first text until eight in the morning California time which was four in the afternoon in Manchester. It was an adjustment that Louis didn't like but knew would have to be done on occasion. Especially when he went back on tour in a year or two. The second day when Louis was checking his Instagram during his morning cereal, he saw the headlines and pictures.

Larry Stylinson Over?! Harry Styles spotted with mystery woman in downtown L.A!

Harry was dressed in black jeans and a plain grey shirt. He and the blond chick were walking down a sidewalk together holding hands. Harry, poor guy was so used to holding Louis' he at first had his hand on the inside making it look really awkward before he changed it. It didn't matter though. Not to Louis. His boyfriend was in Los Angeles holding hands with another woman and had kept the plans from Louis. Louis locked his phone and set it aside as he played with his cereal. Louis kept himself busy, so he didn't realize when five o'clock hit and Harry was calling him inside the mall he was at with Liam, Zayn, and Niall.

"Hi H I can't really talk right now." Louis said by way of answering, the lads looked over briefly but continued to look around the shop.

"Lou, I know you're mad at me just let me explain?" Harry said

"Harry I really can't talk." Louis said looking around before he left the store and sat at the sitting area a few feet away, "I'm at the mall so unless you want someone to overhear this, now isn't a good time."

"I don't care I want to talk."

"Well, I don't. I tried to talk to you, but if you recall you left to get on a plane. So, no I am not going to talk now that it's convenient for you." Louis snapped

"Fine then just listen." Louis pressed his lips together closing his eyes, "they want us to pretend to be broken up...it was the best solution we could agree on. Look I only have to stage with her a few times and we just have to lay low a bit and-"

"No." Louis said immediately

"Louis I need to be connected to a female before the big album release so they can say who it's about. I tried to fight it, but I can't."

"Harry I am not doing this in a mall." Louis said glancing over at a group of girls who were standing just close enough to listen to Louis.

"Louis please. Management needs to link the songs to someone and-"

"They are linked to someone. To me Harry. You’re boyfriend." Louis snapped before he took a deep breath and stood up to turn away from the eavesdroppers.

“Louis we just-“

“No, we don’t need to do anything. You do. I will not be forced behind steel closet doors because your management is afraid you won’t sell albums if you’re completely gay. Which you are by the way. In case you’ve forgotten. You’re not bisexual, you’re not straight questioning, I’m not an experiment Harry and I’ll be damned if you’re management makes it out like that. We are still together! We are not broken up. They can’t just thrust a girl at you while you’re in a relationship and make you straight. I will not hide the fact that I love you to appease your management’s homophobia. If you want to do that then fine, but don’t expect me to do it with you. Now I am going to hang up and when you are back home, we can talk privately, but for now we are no longer talking. I will not argue with you while you are thousands of miles and eight hours behind. I refuse to fall asleep and have to wait eight hours for you to respond so we can resume our argument. You be straight for the next few days, be a lady’s man, be whatever your management needs you to be, but just know when you come home you have two choices. Our relationship or your Management. I’m going to hang up now. I love you and I’ll see you in a few days.” Louis ended the call before Harry could say anything then without looking back at the group of girls he headed back to the shop where the lads were at still.

“Everything okay?” Liam asked

“We’ll know when he’s back home.” Louis said with shrug

“Do you want to stay over with one of us?” Niall asked

“No.”

***********

Within a few hours the girls’ video of Louis on the phone was viral and predictably “sources close to Harry Styles” claimed Harry found some women attractive. Louis rolled his eyes and kept his phone locked most of the days completely ignoring social media. Only four days of the original six passed before Louis was woken up in the middle of the night by the alarm going off only for it to be turned off within a few seconds. Louis pushed himself to sit up on the bed just as it was opened. Harry walked into the room; he didn’t look at the bed only headed to the closet to set his bag down.

“What are you doing home early?” Louis asked tiredly as he pulled the covers around him, Harry looked at him and smiled softly

“You went viral. Management couldn’t make me bisexual anymore.” Harry said as he sat on the bed, “They had something on you.” Louis pulled his eyebrows together and moved to sit up better to look at him.

“What? What do you mean?”

“They told me, but I didn’t get to see it until I was in Los Angeles or else, I’d have told you about it.” Harry said as he handed his phone to Louis, “It’s from Uni days or something. I’m not…I don’t care about what is that video, but if it had gotten out it’d ruin your image for a long while.” Louis stared at the video that was paused already knowing what it was.

“I was drunk. I didn’t know he was recording. I hardly even remember this night and he promised to delete it once we broke it off.” Louis said

“Well, he didn’t or maybe he did and found it in his cloud and wanted money. Either way he sent it to my management team, and they used it to their advantage to try and get me with a woman. I watched the first minute of it but once I realized what it was, I ended the video. It’s clear you were drunk, it felt wrong seeing it. I’m sorry though…that this came up.” Harry said as he looked at him, “I love you Louis, but I’d do anything to protect you even if it meant breaking up. If it meant leaving you so you could be happy without worry, then I’d do it.” Harry said tearfully

“Harry-“

“No let me finish. I don’t want to drag you into this only for something like this to come up again. We paid the guy off and he is on a contract now, but that doesn’t mean there may be another guy who knew you and has a video of you. I don’t care about your past relationships, I don’t care if you partied with the wrong crowd for a few months, I just care that you’re happy and if it won’t be with me then I understand. I do. It’ll hurt like hell, but I’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy. I’ll get you an apartment and I’ll be your friend, or I’ll move to my London home or I’ll- I don’t know. I’ll hide our relationship...I’ll hunt down anyone who knew you in Uni and make them sign contracts and pay for their silence. Whatever it is, I just need to know what you want me to do.” Louis got on his knees and kissed Harry cupping his face gently in his hands

“I only got super drunk and did a bit of weed here and there. I danced nude sometimes on the tabletops, but honestly this is the worst video that should ever show up. I love you Harry and I knew what I was getting myself into when we went public. I’m sorry that it did show up and I’m sorry your management used it against you and I-“

“You have nothing to apologize for my love.” Harry said hugging Louis close, “Let’s sleep then tomorrow we’ll go on a dinner date and if you eat all your vegetables you can top tomorrow night.”

“Really?”

“Yes really. I want you to top. But only if you eat your veggies that I know you haven’t eaten without me here to remind you.” Louis grinned

“You know me well.”

“I know.” Louis kissed him again before the settled in bed with Louis cuddling into Harry’s chest hugging Harry close to him. Harry held Louis close against his body as well, kissing his head every few seconds until they were sound asleep.

[thestraggletag]

Back to You, Part 1 of ?

Bitches say they’re “just gonna write some drabbles, fill in some prompts, keeping things sweet and casual” and then come up with unplanned sequels to their fics.

It’s me, I’m bitches.

Anon Prompted: Long Road reunion reunion... how about they go out to eat? Maybe Belle drinks a bit too much wine a bit too quickly....

Summary: sequel to The Long Road. Sometimes we move on from places and people. And sometimes we just think we do.

Belle and Rumple reconnect in NYC.    

A/N: The Japanese restaurant mentioned in the story does not actually serve alcohol. I took a bit of artistic licence to comply with the prompt.

He didn’t know what to expect, really. So he hadn’t let himself think about their date, choosing instead to make the necessary arrangements to prolong his stay. After that he had visited Bae’s old neighbourhood, taking in the sights and wondering about his son’s life there, trying to see if there was anything that told him about the adult Bae, who he had barely gotten to know. 

By the time he arrived back at the bookstore Belle was waiting for him outside, wearing a grey coat and a beret, looking in her element on the streets of New York. In Storybrooke her high-end, avant-garde sense of style had certainly stood out. Very few appreciated her adventurous take on fashion, and he wagered the only reason she hadn’t gotten snide comments for her short skirts or sheer tops, or mocking laughs for her daring colour palette and use of prints was because she was the Dark One’s wife.

He tried not to read too much into it when she spotted him and her face broke into a familiar smile, one he had only seen her direct at him.

“Hey.”

He had never managed to get over the short-circuiting his brain did sometimes around Belle. But judging by the widening of her smile she still thought it charming and not pathetic. Small comfort. She looped her arm around his left one, minding his cane, and fell into step with him as easy as breathing.

“Hi there. Where do you want to go for dinner?”

“You’re the one who knows the city, sweetheart.” What the fuck was wrong with him, why did he call her that? Why did his infamous self-control take a fucking vacation every time he was in the vicinity of his wife? “Surprise me.”

If she felt uncomfortable by his faux pas she didn’t let it show. She took him to an area of Manhattan called the East Village, to a white-bricked building with a bright red banner he couldn’t read on the door. The interior was small and slightly outdated, and he sat down as she ordered at the counter for them, trying to get comfortable. When she sat down she told him how she’d found Otofuku a month into her life in New York, while on one of her usual visit to Strand, an apparently popular used bookstore nearby. They served Japanese street food which was to die for, as well as a home-made plum wine that, sadly, they did not bottle to take. 

“I’m not ready to venture much outside the city, not yet, but I’ve been travelling the world through food and Japan has some of the best food you’ve ever tasted. I figured you’d like the experience. I know food is one of your weaknesses.”

Belle had learned that early on, back at the Dark Castle. And once in Storybrooke, when he had finally shared with her his past as a lame, poor spinner, she had understood why. She had never said it outright but she’d always made a big deal out of every meal they shared, especially dinner. 

They were served fast. Belle had ordered a house special, the Deluxe combo consisting of a pancake-like dish, a bowl of noodles and some sort of fried meatballs with sauce and flakes of some kind. They were brought a carafe of the house plum wine, lovely golden in colour and with a couple of actual plums at the bottom. She taught him to say “kanpai” as the toasted and walked him through the dishes, delighting in his expressions and the awed way in which he saw her handle chopsticks. The server had been gracious enough to give him a knife and fork.

He had expected things to be awkward, stilted, or at least tense. Had expected to struggle for things to say, for how to behave around her. But, surprisingly, it wasn’t. He enquired after her life in the city, enjoying her colourful anecdotes. She was a natural storyteller in a non-traditional way, easily making him feel as if he’d been there with her for her first subway ride, or the time she’d gotten lost at the Met. The wine helped, slightly sweet and easy to drink, served chilled to perfection. 

By the time they got a second carafe the mood had turned somewhat serious, Belle talking about her first days outside Storybrooke, second-guessing her decision and scared of the world before her. She apologised for not saying goodbye in person, feeling that though she had done it partly because she knew he wouldn’t let her take the dagger with her- “And I wanted so much to do that for you, to free you of it”- she had also done it because of cowardice. 

He tried to recall the white-hot anger he had felt, the sense of loss and betrayal. The sheer pain of realising she was gone, that she had left him. But he couldn’t, not when her eyes got glassy and he could see shadows under her eyes. He found himself instead telling her about what it felt to have the voices of the Dark Ones in his head muted, about how blissful the newfound silence in his head was. Told her about his recent efforts to connect with Henry, and how that had forced him to clean up his act a bit, which meant releasing the fairies, for a start. He didn’t miss the way she brightened up upon hearing that. 

“It’s easier now, with the influence of the dagger muted to a distant murmur. Not that Regina or the Charmings are rushing to set aside their inherent mistrust and holier-than-thou attitude, but I’ve made a solid start. And it’s nice to talk to someone about Bae. Hadn’t noticed how thirsty for knowledge of his father Henry was.”

Miss Swan, apparently, did not talk to the lad about him at all, and the thought of it still angered him. How quickly she had moved past his son’s sacrifice. Everyone had.

“Henry’s a good kid, very strong-minded. I’m sure he’ll make up his own mind about you, whatever everyone else says.”

By the time they were digging into their dessert- some sort of weird fish-shaped cake with banana and some sort of chocolate and hazelnut concoction- the mood turned light and sweet again. Belle delighted in watching him bravely cut into the head of the fish cake, trying not to make a face as he popped the bite into his mouth. It was surprisingly good, the chocolate and hazelnut spread devine and he moaned as he took another bite. When he looked up Belle’s eyes were glassy and her cheeks flushed. They had drunk too much without realising. The wine was just too good, sweet and smooth, too easy to drink.

When he insisted on seeing her home she did not refuse him. They grew silent in the back of the cab, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Belle rested her head against his shoulder, the alcohol making her sleepy and affectionate as it tended to do, and it felt right to let her snuggle, to wrap an arm around her and catch the faintly envious glance of the cab driver on the rear-view mirror. It felt suddenly like the end of a date, the thought scary as it was thrilling. He told himself over and over that he was in New York for closure, to understand why Belle had done what she did and come to terms with it. And they had certainly delved deep into that conversation. Now he could truly begin to heal and move on, which is what he wanted.

Wasn’t it?

They arrived at a modest but nice-looking brownstone on the edge of Chelsea, one in a row of many similar buildings. He instructed the cabbie to wait for him and escorted her to the door itself, feeling a sudden spike of panic. Was this it? Was it the last time he saw her? Did she wanted it to be? Did he? And if he didn’t, what could he do about it?

“This was lovely, Rumple. Seeing you here. I didn’t think you… I’m just glad. That you did.”

She looked lovely under the low light of the nearby street lamp, her cheeks flushed with drink and her hair mused from her impromptu nap on the taxi. His heart fluttered, alerting him to what he had already suspected. He still loved her. More than ever before, which he had not thought possible. Madly.

“It was… wonderful to see you. Thank you for dinner. And for… for everything.”

For the dagger, and for forgiving him for all that he had done to her. For never losing the ability to see the best in him. For being one of the two truly good things in his life.

“I enjoyed it.” She bit her lip and got a look in her eyes that sent a thrill down his spine. He knew that look. It was the look she got right before she did something brave. A look of resolve mixed with the slightest tinge of fear. “You said you were staying a week, I assume to explore the city. Perhaps you need a guide?”

“Yes.” He had no time to cringe at how rough and desperate his voice sounded, or to fully consider what he was getting into, and how messy a week with Belle would make their inevitable parting. Why should he care when Belle was smiling and writing her number on the receipt from the restaurant, telling him to call her tomorrow.

“Sweet dreams, Rumple.”

She kissed him on the cheek before biting her lip and going inside the building, gently closing the door behind her. The cabbie honked at him helpfully, lifting him out of his stupor and reminding him that the meter was still on. He got in, muttered his hotel address and spent the rest of the ride trying not to grin like a fool.

[nothingeverlost]

Haha yep, it is I! Been lost to other fandoms but the Rumbelle/Robert Carlyle fandom will always have my heart. :D It can be anything honestly. If you want to do the Mending verse that's fine. :) How about something happy? A major turning point in their relationship or in his recovery?

There’s something amazing about Bobby that I think will always keep this fandom central.

Alright, darling, this is about a year or two later than anything I’ve written in this verse.

_______

Forty-five minutes into the tux fitting and Ben was losing his patience.�� It was boring, and he didn’t see how one suit was different than any other.  Fortunately his turn was over but Graham was on his two hundredth different shirt at least.  

“Isn’t it time for dinner yet?”  He’d been promised burgers and milkshakes after the fitting.  He hadn’t known it was going to be way worse than back to school shopping.

“I’m sure he’s close to deciding.  There can’t be that many more things to try on.”  Carl sat next to him, his suit already chosen as well.  “At least I hope.”

“They’re all black of grey.  What’s the difference?”  Graham’s leather jacket was way cooler than the stupid suits anyway.  Ben didn’t understand the purpose of dressing up; when he was a grown up and no one could boss him around he wasn’t going to dress up ever.  Suits were weird.

“You’re asking the wrong man, lad.”  In front of the mirror Graham took off another jacket.  Not the right one either, apparently.

“You know my mom’s probably going to want you to wear one of those when you get married.  If you just married her now we could wear the same suits and we wouldn’t have to do this again.”  It seemed like a good idea to him.  PLus he’d been little when he’d met Carl and now he was seven and that was a really long time.  They had to get married sometime, didn’t they?  “Maybe you could even get married the same day and then mom would only make me wear a tie one time.”

“What?”  From the look Carl was giving him he didn’t seem to understand.  Maybe Carl liked ties; he wore them sometimes when mom wore a dress that was fancy and they went out for dinner.  Or maybe that wasn’t the part that was confusing him.

“You want to marry my mom, don’t you?”  His friend Sean’s mom had gotten married during the summer.  Sean wasn’t sure he liked having a new dad but Ben thought it would be pretty cool if Carl lived with them all the time and not just once in a while had sleepovers.  “Graham’s moving out when he gets married.  You could have his room.”

“Being married isn’t like being roommates, Ben.”  Carl looked down at his lap for a moment before speaking.  “It means something very special, about loving someone and wanting to be with them for all of your life.  Taking care of them and...”

“You took care of mom when she was sick and had to miss work.  You didn’t even go to school, remember?  And you and mom say ‘I love you’ sometimes; like when one of you has to go somewhere or when you put your arm around her.  You kiss and everything.”  Ben still didn’t understand that one.  He never wanted to kiss someone one the lips but mom and Carl did it, and Graham did too with Doctor Humbert.

“I love your mom a lot, Ben.  So much that getting married has to be something that I know will make her happier than anything else.  Like Graham is happy.”  Carl nodded towards the dressing area, where Graham had taken a break and was talking on the phone.  They could both tell from the laughter who was on the other end.

“She smiles when you ask if you can come over or when she’s meeting you somewhere.  And she says you’re the most importantest person besides me and Graham in the whole world.  And…”  Ben bit his lip.  Maybe Carl didn’t want to marry his mom.  

“And?”  Carl waited for a moment but Ben was suddenly unsure.  “Ben, my boy, you know you can tell me anything.  Just like you can tell your mom anything, or Graham.”

“Anything?”  Carl listened to him all the time, about his day at school and the fish he’d seen at the aquarium and how he was going to play football for a job when he grew up.  But he’d never said these words out loud before.

“Anything, Ben.  It can be a secret just between us if that makes it easier to say.”

“I…” Ben looked over at Graham, taking off another shirt.  This time, though, he pulled on the jersey he’d worn into the shop.  Maybe it was finally time to go.  “I thought maybe if you married my mom you could marry me too, and be my dad.  I never had one before.  We could go camping and you could tell me stories on all the nights.  I’ll wash the dishes after dinner and I won’t leave my shoes in the hall and I won’t even say ‘ew’ when you and mom kiss.”

“Oh Ben.”  One minute he was sitting in his chair and the next he was on Carl’s lap, the metal of Carl’s leg sharp against the back of his thigh but the rest of him warm.  “You don’t have to promise anything, lad.  You are enough, just as you are.  If your mom and I get married I will be proud to call you son.  And if we never do I would still be proud of you.”

“You know Belle’s a lot more likely to say yes if you ask her the question, boy-o.”  While both of them had been distracted Graham had joined them.  He ruffled Ben’s hair affectionately and grinned at them both.  “Maybe sometime this decade?  At least before Ben graduates Uni.”

“Just because you’re getting married, Hughes, doesn’t make it the right thing for everybody.”  Carl still held Ben on his lap.  Even his weak attempt at a glare made Graham grin.

“We’re not talking about everybody.  We’re talking about you and Belle and the fact that you’ve been living in each other’s pockets for more than two years after dancing around each other for the two years before that.  A seven year old has more sense then the two of you.  Right Ben?”

“Can we go get milkshakes now?”  Ben wasn’t sure if he was more confused or feeling better.  Or both.  But what he did know was that he was hungry.  They could figure out the rest later.

“Yeah, we can go get milkshakes.”  Without letting go of Ben Carl stood up, slinging the boy over his shoulder, making him laugh.  “If you’re ready, Graham, I believe there was a promise of burgers and chips for dinner.”

“And milkshakes!” Ben added gleefully.

“Not the only promise we’ll be talking about,” Graham said as he followed them out the door. 

[elevenhoursinfront-blog]

29th November 2017

We slept fine considering how hot it was. It does literally make you feel like you're oxygen is running out, it's weird. We walked over to the toilet straight away as we were busting. We said good morning to a few fellow campers as we walked through the rest area.

We got back to the car and the camper'car' next to us was eating breakfast. They arrived last night as Steve and I were sitting in the car park bay in our underwear (what a sight). Two girls and one guy. He had a roof tent which looked pretty cool. They were all very inconsiderately loud and from Germany. I've met so many German's this year that I reckon I could speak it. I recognise it quicker than English now! Don't get me wrong, I've met a few gems that I'll be visiting and if I time it right, it'll be during Oktoberfest!

We got dressed in the car and had our breakfast cereal on one of the picnic benches. There were flies and birds everywhere which were slightly annoying. It will be nice to eat a meal at a table inside without insects. What a thought for the future.

We wanted to get on the road as soon as possible, so by 0900, we were off. It was my turn to drive so I did. Another five hour drive. I'm sure my bottom is going square.

It's funny how we consider a 5 hour drive to be a normal drive here and a 1 hour drive to be popping to the shops.

My ankle started to really hurt after about 3.5 hours. Our old girl does not have cruise control so you can imagine how much the ankle hurts after 5 hours. 

Even though the drives are really long, I really enjoy them. Steve and I get to talk to each other for hours and it's amazing how much you can still learn about your partner, even after years of being together.

We pulled up to our caravan park around 1330. It was called 'The Reef' and had loads of mermaids everywhere. We parked up and walked in. The door was locked and a resident came out of a massive RV to check us in. He started checking us in when his wife came and done the rest.

She was lovely and told us about all the good stuff to do in the area. She gave us a map and circled things off. She got us some leaflets including our surf lesson that we had picked to do prior to arriving. We'll be doing that tomorrow.

For the last few days, the rain hasn't really stopped. The skies were grey the whole drive down from Airlie Beach which is annoying. We parked in our spot and the park was fairly empty. The lady said it wasn't in season yet. We had picked unpowered because it was much cheaper, but still expensive.

I can't believe people are charging a good $50 a night when they know we're renting a home that costs $35 a night any way. It's so irritating.

We went for a wee and checked around the 'camp kitchen'. It wasn't much of a kitchen to be honest with you, it was a BBQ, sink and a kettle. That was all. We went back to our van and decided to drive to the town. This was the cheapest camp site in the area of Agnes Waters/1770 because it wasn't smack bang in the middle of the town. There were loads more along the beach front but you can imagine the price of those.

We jumped in the van and drove the 10 minutes in. The town itself was small. A lot smaller than either of us had pictured. It's very popular amongst backpackers but at first glance, I was struggling to see why. Most come here to learn to surf. It's the cheapest lesson along the coast only costing $17 for 3 hours. Elsewhere is around $70 for 2 hours.

We drove to the top of 1770 and parked up. There were a few lookout points which were meant to be stunning, and still were, it's just that it was the most miserable day. You don't appreciate a good view without the beautiful blue sky. The lookout points were a walk through the forest area which we did whilst we were starving. We hadn't eaten since breakfast this morning so we were walking around with a pack of Snack'A'Jacks. Steve was having a real 'mantrum' (tantrum for full grown men) because in his eyes, his East Coast trip had lead to this. I really enjoyed them and they're not very fattening. It filled a gap so what else can you ask for!

We walked back to the van, after I by accidentally hit Steve in the balls with the pack of Snack'A'Jacks. I was swinging them as I was walking but Steve managed to get in the way. He had one of those dramatic moments where he felt like he was actually, for real this time, dying. He was over it in a few seconds though and besides, it was an accident.

We drove to the bottom of the town and drove around. It appears there's a fair bit of money in 1770 and the houses were unreal. The majority of them are on a steep hill though and I am not about that sort of life. Imagine carrying your full shop up 10,000 steps just to get to the front door? Nope!

We pulled over at a shop that said 'Information Centre'. These are based in almost every town along the coast for backpackers to find out what is best to do. They're basically travel agents too so they will try to sell you as much as they can.

We walked in and picked up the leaflet for our surf lesson we pre-planned. The English lad in the agents said it's a good surf school and obviously, the cheapest. He said we didn't need to book in advance, we just turn up at the school at 0900. Woop!

There was one more trip I wanted to do in Agnes which is really, really popular and it's called 'Scooteroo'. It's basically a school of motorbikes which gets you dressed up in black leathers with flames on and you drive round like you're a red neck for the day. You don't need a bike license as they're not real big bikes although they're are the spitting image of Harley's! It's pretty awesome but it was $65 each. I didn't really want to waste so much money on driving round on a bike, although it looked so cool.

As we were in the store, the heavens opened and it was chucking buckets. We ran to the car and decided to go to IGA to get some washing liquid. We were desperate to do a wash but we didn't keep any of our laundry stuff. Silly, really. We went inside and I managed to get a 2L bottle for the price of a 1L bottle – bargain! I bet we don't even use 1L of it...

We decided on having Alfredo pasta so Steve picked up some chicken breast and a garlic bread to go with it. We left in our van and returned to our camp. I was quite chilly so I put a hoody on and got our stuff out for dinner. We have to try and cook before it gets dark otherwise we're stuck with only a head torch.

We got over to the camp kitchen and tried to preheat the BBQ. We didn't have a lighter so we couldn't light the gas. Luckily, a guy came over with one of those long clicky lighters and lit it for us. He was from Scotland and really chatty – a nice guy. He was on his own with his Labrador. Steve reckons he's split up with his wife and now on his own.

We cooked our dinner which was delicious. It got dark but luckily there were kitchen lights. Just as we were finishing, the guy's Labrador came running over to see if there was any left for him. He came running over shouting at his dog but ended up standing there, chatting to us for about 40 minutes. Steve was right – his wife left him. He didn't have enough money to get a house so he was forced to leave his job and buy a mobile type home. He has the dog luckily so he has some sort of companion. I felt so sorry for him, his world had just been turned upside down and he's lost everything. He did his year working visa when he was around 19 years old. He's a good 40 years old now. He moved to Brisbane and settled down there for the rest of his life. He has no intention on moving back home. He's going to travel Australia for the year and see where his life takes him. He must be so lonely, which is why I guess he stayed to talk to us for so long. He was enjoying some company for the first time in a week, two weeks.

I washed our stuff up and we jumped into the van. We got our stuff ready for a shower and went just before bed. Cold showers before bed to at least give us half a chance of not over heating.

We were back and in bed by 2100. The rain hadn't stopped since we saw it open up at the stores earlier. It was so heavy and loud on the van, I thought it might come through.

[meetingmuppets]

CATFISH BLOG

“If they seem too good to be true they probably are”

The meaning of Catfish

Wikipedia

lure (someone) into a relationship by adopting a fictional online persona.

BLOG

 So, I decided a few weeks ago to dip my toe back in pond of the dating world, I‘d had a 6 month break, done a lot in that time, joined diverse social groups, learnt African dancing, Drumming, Kizomba, Meditation, all kinds of weird stuff really,   Met lots of great new people and did lots of socialising but never came close to meeting that special someone.  I‘d had the time to get over the trauma of last year’s dating and was ready to throw caution to the wind,

Unfortunately, what started as a dipping my toe in the pond turned into the biggest Tsunami dating disaster I ‘ve ever had, I found the worst type of guy no woman should ever have to experience, to sum it up in one word  I met “ CATFISH’

As I am writing this blog there are some common words I know I am likely to use and In order to make reading this blog easier I am putting some abbreviations in place for these words to stop repetition

CF The guy (never got his real name so I will just call him CF – Catfish)

AB Absolute Bollocks -referring to most stories he told me 

ABR Alarms Bells ringing

PAP Psychotic and Paranoid – referring to me and my frame of mind ie whenever I questioned his stories which were not adding up I was made to feel like I was crazy, and was imagining everything. :”Babe why you being so paranoid and negative, you need to chill… “

Anyway I found this guy on Tinder (oh no not Tinder I hear you moan) Yes Tinder, Advantages – free, quick and easy to use, Disadvantages – a hunting ground for catfish, you can float around in cyberspace with no digital footprint so hard for anyone to catch you if you are on there for anything other than a relationship. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate that Tinder is also used as a cheap hook up at the end of the night, based on finding someone in close proximity to you.  I do not judge anyone who is into extra marital affairs.  What does piss me off in the dating world is not declaring what you are on the site for (or downright lying that you are single and after a relationship which is clearly not the case.)  Like for example POF (Plenty of Fish) you can opt for a Relationship or admit you are not after a Relationship – just after a bit of fun. It easy, just click the option you want.   

  As long as you are open and honest that’s fine.  But when you are lying about your situation and making out you are single when you are actually married that’s when it becomes a nightmare for the other person, who is using the site for serious purpose. 

So back to my CF story.

I noticed since I last used Tinder there was now a new added feature to help you find someone quicker rather than having to go through the cumbersome process of getting a Match.  THE SUPERLIKE BUTTON

Just to explain a bit about SUPERLIKE, if you know about Tinder, you will know that if you like the look of someone’s profile you swipe left and if you no likey you swipe right.  However the Match process only happens if that person also sees your profile and happens to swipe left also.   It can take weeks for that to happen, it may never happen and I don’t have time to wait around! However, the Super Like button bypasses all of that waiting game.  If you Super Like someone, they get an instant notification, they see your profile and if they accept you, IT’S A MATCH  Get your coat lad you’ve pulled!!

You only get one SuperLike a day, you can pay for more if you want, but believe you me, with the PondLife you get on Tinder, one Superlike a day is more than enough. I decided to use my Superlike Power when I did surprisingly find a guy I liked the look of.   Hit the button and yippee within 10 minutes he liked me back, we had a Match.

Indeed The Superlike button has great powers, but with great powers comes great responsibility

I opened his message to a very excited ‘I am so happy that you have chosen me, I have read your profile and you seem the perfect kind of woman I am after’…!!

Well that was flattering,

I responded and we swapped numbers and started to text, they was a lot of banter and I decided he had passed the first test (the Text Banter) and we started to discuss meeting up for the FIRST DATE.

I must admit I do not have time to text and email guys for weeks and weeks,  I prefer to just arrange a meet up pretty quickly and decide over a quick drink if I like them or not.  Which is probably my downfall as I do not research the person I intend to meet or ask many questions.  As long as they have a decent job, and can make me lol on a text message that’s about the only criteria I need initially.

Anyway the date was set up that weekend, a Saturday afternoon in a beer garden.  I got there first got myself a glass of wine and when he turned up I was not disappointed, nice to look at, Well dressed, easy on the eye, Dapper clothing,  Tick, Tick Tick.

We chatted about a lot of interesting topics, he told me about his job, he was a trainee solicitor for Immigrants.  He helped people stay in the country who arrived here with no paperwork from war torn countries. 

Said he found his job very rewarding.

Spoke about his high morals and that he would never go out and sleep around with different women, his church values would not allow it.  He was a one woman man.

He then had to cut the date short because he said he had a church meeting in his local community about supporting immigrants.  (BTW All of the above turned out to be AB)

I did query before he left the fact he had De-matched me on Tinder pretty quickly which was a bit strange.  The ‘De- Match button’ is when you are matched with someone but then change your mind.  By ‘De matching them’ you are throwing them back into Cyber space so you are not connected anymore on Tinder and it’s a strange thing to do if you are planning a date with someone.  You tend to keep them there,  as a sweet reminder of how lucky you were in the first place to be matched with that person.

He said that he had 14 other Superlikes on Tinder (That is a lot – I get 1 Superlike a year) and all the women’s profiles were cluttering up his inbox.  And he decided he liked me the best out of all of them, and wanted to see me,  so he did not need them anymore. 

I left my date feeling quite uplifted, but also sensing this guy may not be all he seems.  Did I really believe he had deleted 14 Superlikes (including mine) before he even met me??

Anyway, having both accepted the first date was a success, the second date was set for a drink and meal the week after at my local.   He came to my house first of all with a present, 2 bottles of my favourite Red Wine, he certainly knew how to impress.  I did pour out a lot of my insecurities to him as well as the wine, my previous dating disasters, men promising everything but giving nothing, the ghosting horrors.  He said he would never ghost Me, that he could see us together in a year and if anyone was going to end it, it would be me.  That he could really see us in a long term relationship. 

  WARNING

“ If they say that they care about you and they act like things are getting serious after only a short amount of time, you might just have met a catfish”

When we later had a meal, he did mention he had a bad and serious allergy to prawns, I joked that if he wronged me I would come to his house and sew prawns in his curtains.

By 11pm the date was ready to end, and at this point he mentioned ringing a taxi to see his brother (ABR).

At this point I immediately sensed he was lying I mean why would you have to meet up with your brother or to go to his house at this time of night???.  I tried not to be PAP and instead joked about the fact he was going to meet another woman

Being a polite host I then offered to ring him an UBER which he accepted. 

Now my main reason here apart from the fact I love the UBER magic of a taxi turning up within 1 minute of ordering it, is because UBER tracks the journey and saves you a record of the exact journey taken.  (I am not sure he knew this, so this was to my advantage).  If he was lying to me as to his whereabouts I was going to find out.

When he got in the taxi I poured a glass of wine, and sat down to watch his journey home, SAD I know, but I wanted to see if he was really going to the place he said he was going.  The taxi ride home took about `10 minutes and did go to the area he said,  although I am pretty sure at some point there was 3 minutes stop at the University.

That was a bit strange, had he picked someone up another woman perhaps???? (PAP).

Reassured myself it was just the bottle of wine making me a bit squiffy, as soon as he got out the taxi (Yep you can even tell that) he text me to say goodnight and rest assured there is no woman here.  All ok, went to bed feeling relatively happy.

What a difference 24 hours makes. 

Saturday

I woke up the next day and looked at my phone. Now for the past week or two CF normally sent a good morning Text but there was nothing. Never mind, sure he is still in bed I thought   I went to Whatsapp to text him good morning.  Half an hour later I went to check he had got my message to see it only showed one grey tick (undelivered) which was strange, he tended to respond really quickly.  In addition his timestamp and picture had gone. 

I did not panic too much as sometime I remove my timestamp if I don’t want to get back to people quickly but I still felt uneasy.  Had he blocked me?  Surely not. . ???

Just to make sure I was not blocked I called him, he picked up straight away and said he was sleepy and I would call me back.  I did question ‘Have you blocked me on WHATSAPP??”.  Did not want to sound PAP but felt the need to ask.  He assured me he had not blocked me “No, I do not have Wifi here that is all, I am not online I will call you as soon as I get up”

17:00 I had still not heard, and I was really feeling a bit annoyed.  There was something not right here, call it my instincts I just knew.  My jovial morning message was still not delivered and according to ‘4 steps as to how to tell if you are defo blocked on WHATSAPP’, I was 90% blocked. 

I decide to confront my fear, I text him and said “There is something not right here and I know you have blocked me, I have a really bad feeling about this”

Two minutes later he called, assured me again he still did not have WI FI and had not blocked me.

Said he knew I was going out that evening and that was why he had not called.   I was not really convinced but I was getting ready to go out and just decided to put my PAP thoughts behind me and enjoy my evening.  He even text me saying “stop being so negative about this, lol you are so paranoid”

  Sunday

By Sunday afternoon I was getting really annoyed.  More Google Searches about ‘How to know if you are blocked on WHATSAPP were carried out with an additional test you can do to prove 101% if you are blocked (I was 101% blocked) I get a flashing message from Google now– Hey - accept it GAL you ARE SOO BLOCKED, get over it and move on.

And now my phone calls to him were going straight to voice mail. 

Leading to more Google searches ‘How do I know if someone has blocked my calls “If it rings only once and goes straight to voicemail you could be blocked”

The test to check this for certain– ring immediately after from another different phone and if it rings as normal then that will prove you are 100% blocked.

 I did the TEST and now know that I am 100% blocked from calls !!!.???

Hours and hours of Google and Quora searches about whether or not I am blocked from calls and messages were started to take their toll.  

By Sunday evening I was tired, confused and at the end of my tether. I wearily sent him a text, ‘I’ve had enough, you are lying to me, I don’t want to see you anymore”

CF- “Well you certainly made your mind up about me, I told you that you would be the one to end it “

Me  (annoyed at his smugness)  Texting – “You were obviously fully aware of how untrustworthy you are and knew you would let me down”. 

Me - Looking up at the unfinished bottle of RED WINE

Texting back “And the irony of this “The bottle of Wine has lasted longer that you have “

CF - LOL

 Monday,

Spent morning feeling a bit miserable about the fact it was over, without me even knowing the truth.

11.00  - WHATSAPP text appears suddenly his profile and time stamp are all back.  He asks if we can talk.  I agree (not sure why) and when he calls later he says again that I am imagining it all and being paranoid. 

And still insisting he has no reason to block me.  That he reinstalls his WHATSAPP for certain reasons and that must be causing the problems.  I argued my point and all my research on WHATSAPP and the 4 ways to discover you are blocked,  to which he says   ‘What are you, an FBI agent or something??”

For the next two hours I start to question my own sanity, maybe I wasn’t blocked, maybe his ex- girlfriend has synced his computer and is messing with his head, maybe there is a  WHATSAPP fault just between our two phones that is causing this ????

15.00 I check my WHATSAPP again and cannot believe it

He has blocked me again.

17.00 I wanted the truth now, CODE RED.    I was not going to rest until I get it.

I decide to ring him but know I am blocked.  Another Google search -How to adjust my phone settings so he does not know it is me calling.

It shows me a video how to hide my profile ID so when it called him it says private number.

I did this and make the call, and he immediately picks up (GOTCHA)

When I say ‘Hi its me’ I can tell he is not sure who he is speaking to, his brain was frantically trying to work out which out his 14 Tinder Matches he was dealing with.  

I could hear music in the background from his TV but he started spluttering he was in a shop and could not speak, muttered some rubbish about trying to call me all day and would call me back when he got home. The lines goes dead. 

Right, am done with this, I am really angry, the fear in his voice when I called confirmed there was a secret here. I will use my own detective skills to work out what the hell is happening.

I go through my phone and all the pictures he had sent me to try and get some clues about him. When we first matched,  he sent me about 20 pictures of himself, some pictures are beside his house some are beside his car (of which I can partly see the registration plate).  Along with the address from UBER I am pretty sure I can find this man, hunt him down and expose the truth.  I start to get excited, I know what I can do, I can buy some prawns, find his street his car and dump them all around it.  I have a long conversation about this with my friend, who seeing me on the verge of a meltdown says she will get her boyfriend to drive me there.

I then worry this may be extreme, I don’t want the police involved after all.

And then I have another idea,  I think back to our conversations and remember he told me the club hangs out most weekends, it is in a certain area of Leeds and it’s a club one of my girlfriend goes to, maybe if I send her his pic she will recognise him?? Lightbulb moment 

I send her a text

 Me “Hey how you doing, I think I ve been CATfished and there is a chance you may know him, he goes to the same club as you, if I send you his Pic can you have a look?”

Her: OMG did he take your money?

Me “God NO” (you can have a go at taking my heart and my mind but I am a Yorkshire girl, you aint getting my money that’s for sure)

Her “Ok send me the pic”

I then sent her one pic to identify him and as I was about to send her picture no 2 in case picture number 1 was not clear enough I could see her typing back, Message flashes up :

YEAH I know him

 OMG I was about to get my answers,

I nervously rang her and told her I had been dating him

Is he single I asked – “No he is married ” (Bugger, slightly freaked out at this point, but to be honest I not overly surprised)

Is he a Solicitor I asked, “No he is unemployed” she laughs (I am quite upset about this revelation. More so than being married, all those conversations about those immigrants he saved and text messages saying he was at the Crown Court defending them (AB)

Does he have a Car? I ask, - No that must be his wife’s car.

Is his name “CF”     “No that’s not his name “she said.

Does he live in LS….. I ask, NO he lives in LS…..  (the address she confirms where he lives is the address I have got him the UBER too)

With a sinking feeling I realised my £8.50 taxi fare had taken him back to his marital home

  Apart from being shocked and sickened by my new found knowledge I also felt slightly euphoric.  I had managed to get all my answers without even leaving the house,  I did not have to get my friends boyfriend to drive me round his estate whilst I wear a headscarf and dark glasses and then sprinkle prawns all around his car, trying to avoid any CCTV.  I had brought him down in 48 hours, years of guys lying to me was finally starting to pay off, I now knew the signs and how to reel them in.

Lady Detective Agency here I come. YEAH

So what do I now do with my new found knowledge?

I decided immediately I wanted him to know that I knew.  To make him sweat a bit that I had knowledge that could damage him.

Still feeling slightly euphoric and well as a bit nervous, I decided to leave a voice message

When it clicked to Voice Mail my message started, (I really should have prepared more for this.)

I had not meant it to sound threatening but it went into  a creepy and strange Liam Neeson mode ( I know who you are, I know where you live and when I find you I will….)  No,  I did not want to threaten him, he knows where I live after all.

So half way through I changed my tone to a more upbeat and preppy, ‘I do not intend to take this further, you disgust me and I just feel sorry for your wife’ I HANG UP.

I slept really well that night, there is something about knowing you were right all along that fills you with a sense of calmness, all my worry about the fact I was turning into a PAP girlfriend was not the case, I was right all along.

CF did call me the next day, no doubt having received my strange voice message.  I picked up quite intrigued as to how he was going to worm his way out of this one and if he was bricking it a bit, WHAT DO YOU WANT I said?  In my creepy voice.

There was an uncomfortable pause as he cleared his throat.

“Errmmm”, I just wondered, he said, “If your new found knowledge has changed our friendship/relationship””????!!!!!!!    

OMG was he frigging kidding me  “You mean the fact you are married and unemployed “ I retorted???”

After a few expletives, I confirmed I wanted nothing more to do with him. 

He then said he was disappointed that I had sent his private photos on to other people, said he found that very disrespectful!!!!!   That he would never disrespect me by showing my photos around.   (So I am the one disrespecting him now!!!!???)))  How do guys have a habit of turning things around when they are in the wrong, making us to be the bad guy????????.

I mean Dude- you disrespected me the moment you put your dodgy Catfish Profile out there and then accepted my Tinder request.   I thought I was seeing a single solicitor, I had in fact met an unemployed, married, sick Fantasist. 

After a few long awkward pause it then got to point where there was nothing left for either of us to say and I just told him he disgusted me and hung up.

I have not heard from CF since, but I did feel worried about the 14 other Tinder Matches he was involved with, they should not have to go through this.  I feel a need to protect them.

I decided to send a strong worded email to Tinder about the type of men that are using their website and gave as many accurate details about him as I could.  (Well his phone number which was about the only thing that I did have on him, that was not false)  I also had his Postcode thanks to UBER. 

To be fair Tinder did take it seriously and said they would launch a full investigation.  24 hours later they confirmed they had dealt with it, but for privacy reasons they could not disclose what happened.  I have no idea what they did, hoping they took him down and took action to ensure he does not prowl on their site again.

Moral of this story – apart from the fact there are many dishonest people on these websites, always trust your gut instincts, if something does not feel right, there is a good chance that it is not.   If a relationship seems hard work in the very early stages, it is probably not meant to be.

“If it walks like a Duck and Quacks like a Duck, it is a Duck.”

I did read last year about a woman who wanted to make Catfishing illegal having been involved with a married man for over a year who was in fact leading a double life. 

At the time I found this amusing but I do see now how woman can deem this act to be a crime, you are left feeling very raw and violated. 

You can just as easily meet a guy in the outside world who lies and cheats, you can hardly make it a crime, where does one draw the line?

Maybe Dating websites should have more controls in place to prevent people lying on their site in the first place, getting them to fill in some kind of honesty disclaimer, and making it very clear that there is a report button is anyone abuses the intentions of site.   Persuading people to be honest about what they are after rather than tricking people.  We need to take more action to make it harder for these douch-bags to get onto these sites in the first place.

In the meantime I will carry on with the dating lark I will not be defeated by my Catfish. You will not break me, “Come and have another go guys if you think you are hard enough”…..

I now have the skill and experience to bring you down in 48 hours, I may not tell you wife, but you can be 100% guaranteed that a very uncomfortable voice message and then an even more uncomfortable blog may be coming your way…….

[stylingmrstyles]

so. I don´t even have a proper title. This is the Zessie drabble (probably more than that? since it´s over 4k...) many endless thanks to @queerlyalex who betaed it. I´m so lucky to have someone as talented as them to help with my writing <33

Zayn/Bressie, 4041 words, rated explicit (well of course)

When Zayn gets into his room - after leaving the bathroom nearly nearly tripping over his own feet - he´s finally alone, and all his thoughts starts catching up on him, overwhelming him, making him sick. All the things he's just done. But it's not enough. He already wants more of it.

When Zayn emerges from the bathroom, Bressie is standing by the bed, mid-chat with Niall. His eyes snap towards Zayn immediately, his expression openly surprised before he manages to quickly transform it into something more neutral.

Zayn smirks to himself, shrugging on his cotton t-shirt, taking his time with the process. He slowly drags the fabric down his stomach, hoping that perhaps Bressie will get a good look.

“So, are you ready or what?” Zayn asks Niall, who is sprawled on the bed, guitar resting on his lap. He intentionally ignores Bressie, waiting for Niall to answer.

“Sure, mate,” Niall says happily, strumming his guitar mindlessly. “I’ll be ready in a sec.”

“Cool,” Zayn casually runs a hand through his already styled hair. “Meet you in the hall in ten,” he adds over his shoulder on the way out of Niall’s hotel room. It’s not easy to pretend that Bressie isn’t present since he’s always taking up a good chunk of the space. However, Bressie himself likes to overlook Zayn so why Zayn can’t do the same for once.

***

The club is full to the brim. And loud. Too many sweaty, drunk people crowded in a too small space. Zayn is kinda indifferent towards places like this. It’s not like he loves being squashed and pushed around by strangers, but sometimes the noise and bodies and dark can be comfortingly numbing. Easy to get yourself lost in it, to feel small and insignificant. Just another guy wanting to chill. To get laid. Maybe.

It’s not hard to get attention with his face. People don’t have to recognise him to hit on him. To chat him up. Girls and blokes alike. Tonight, he makes it his mission; engaging in meaningless conversations, letting people touch him casually without calling them out on it. It’s because from the other side of the room, he can practically feel Bressie’s eyes on him.

Or is that wishful thinking.

***

“You’re going to ruin your voice,” Zayn hears a deep rumble next to him, making him jump. He hates when someone sneaks up on him and startles him.

Of course, he knows whose voice it is before he looks up. So, he doesn’t. Either way, it’s still Bressie next to him, as surprising as that is. They´ve been dancing around each other for months now. A weird sort of a dance. Sometimes, Zayn´s sure he's imagined all the times he caught Bressie looking at him, or the times when Bressie left room only to avoid being alone with Zayn.

Zayn shrugs, taking an unnecessarily long pull from the cigarette between his lips.

“It’s not like we don’t do tons of things that could kill us every day.”

He can feel Bressie next to him. Imagines that he can smell Bressie's laundry detergent. His cologne mixed up with sweat.

Bressie lets out a laugh.

“Yea, you’re probably right.”

Zayn doesn’t intend to actually ask, but he says, “So why are you here, then? If you're not here to get closer to death by nicotine?” He squints somewhere behind Bressie´s shoulder to where people are crowding the little smoking area in the club´s beer garden. He doesn’t think he’s brave enough to really look at Bressie when they are alone. Well, alone without the other lads.

It’s Bressie´s turn to shrug. “Just getting some fresh air,” he crosses his arms over his chest, biceps bulging prominently - and Zayn isn’t even really looking! God, Bressie’s chest is, like, massive, pecs clearly visible where his grey t-shirt is stretching the soft fabric. And Zayn never wanted to be this affected by a man he barely knows, but he is.

Tipping his head back against the wall behind him, Zayn takes an extra care to blow out the greyish smoke as slowly as possible, hoping that if there’s even a slight chance that Bressie could fancy a bloke - fancy him - that along with the fresh air, he’s getting a good look at the column of Zayn’s throat and pursed lips. There’s no doubt it feels fucking weird to behave like this in front of someone who Zayn finds fit as hell, instead of flirting back with strangers he’s not interested in.

He doesn’t actually knows if this works. It’s just that he’s seen his own pictures in magazines, and knows what looks good. It’s fun, though - watching people’s reactions.

When Zayn dares to glance sideways, he finds Bressie occupied by his mobile phone - a teeny tiny thing in his giant paws, the screen illuminating his concentrated face, tapping away and then scrolling furiously, instead of showing any interest in Zayn. Brilliant. Fucking brilliant, Zayn winces soundlessly.

“So,” Bressie says suddenly, pocketing his phone. “How are ya finding the tour?”

And isn't that just the weirdest question?

Zayn raises his eyebrows, amused. He's also pleased to have Bressie´s attention back.

“Chill,” he says around the cigarette nonchalantly, giving Bressie a lazy look from under his eyelashes. The other man isn't able to hold it for long, shuffles on his feet, bits his lip with a little smile. Shit. It shouldn't be so cute, but Zayn does find it brutally attractive. He wants more of it, more of Bressie, now.

Zayn’s got everything he could ever dare to dream of, and more. Still, he’s been feeling oddly empty, alone and reckless in the most peculiar way. It’s the money, it’s the fame, they told him. Sitting with their band therapist. Maybe that makes it easier to grasp, but it's not less of a fact.

Bressie lets out another laugh, hearty and good-natured.

“That's what you say about fifty thousand people watching you on stage most of the nights?”

“It's less,” Zayn says and Bressie chuckles in response. “Usually,” he allows then, realising that this is the first time he’s talked to Bressie like mates would, that Bressie’s letting it happen, relaxing the usual vigilance he possesses when Zayn´s around.

“Oh, are ya good with Maths?” Bressie looks fake surprised, raising up his eyebrows comically.

The corners of Zayn´s mouth curve up, he shakes his head. It's a terrible line. If it's a line, he muses.

“Actually, I was more into English.”

In the next moment, a large group of severely tipsy people pass through, one of them manages to shove into Zayn hard, sending him tumbling right onto Bressie. For a fleeting second, Zayn is almost sure he's gonna smash his nose against Bressie´s sternum. Luckily, a pair of strong arms grab him, preventing the catastrophe.  

“Sorry,” Zayn stutters, getting himself upright again. It takes Bressie a second longer than necessary to take his hands off of Zayn, while Zayn drags his eyes slowly up Bressie´s chest and neck and stubbly jaw. Unlike Bressie, he doesn't try to hide his interest -- something he usually masks with indifference.

“You alright?” Bressie asks, voice flat, already withdrawing himself, pulling away as if nothing happened.

Coward.

Zayn only nods, scratching at his eyebrow. He looks around, searching for something to concentrate on.

The awkwardness doesn’t last very long, out of nowhere Louis bounces towards them, practically jumping on Zayn's back to drag them back in, scolding them for disappearing.

Zayn jokes along, pinches Louis nipple and kisses his cheek sloppily. Bressie seems genuinely happy to answer Louis´ absolutely batshit stupid questions about rugby, and Zayn frowns from behind Louis shoulder.

For the whole night he doubles up his efforts - lets blokes chat him up and get close to him, buys drinks for pretty girls, while watching Bressie´s reactions from the corner of his eye. He thinks that Bressie can see right through that kind of facade.

***

Sometimes, you have to push really hard to get what you want. With that on his mind, Zayn knocks on the door of Niall’s room that he’s been sharing with Bressie for the length of his visit.

The door opens after a few moments and Zayn’s met with Bressie, all soft and sort of sleepy, in his tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt, surprise clearly written all over his face.

“Hi,” he breathes out, leaning on the door with one arm.

“I- uhm, I think I’ve left my shampoo in the bathroom.”  He licks his lips and Bressie´s eyes drop to his mouth without missing a beat.

It’s not really a lie, honestly, since Zayn did use their bathroom earlier that day.

Bressie steps away. “Oh, ok,” he says, and let's Zayn come in before shutting the door.

Zayn makes his way through the darkened room, a lamp by Bressie’s bed the only source of light. With pounding heart, he briefly notices Niall’s sleeping body under the duvet, then disappears in the en-suite.

When he switches on the lights there he grimaces at their sharp brightness, finally letting out a long exhale. Bloody hell, he didn’t even know if Bressie would open the door. If Niall would be already asleep. Why does he come up with the stupidest ideas that he actually intends to follow through with after getting spectacularly drunk?

There’s no time for serious plotting, Bressie steps in the room only mere moments after Zayn, the door clicking shut behind him.

Zayn jumps a good few inches, hand flying to clutch at his chest to stop his heart from hammering out of his chest.

“Jesus fuck,” he swears, turning around half-way before realising who the intruder is -- snapping back to face the mirror above the white stone finish counter once he does.

He looks pretty much how he’s feeling - eyes wide, shoulders rising and falling rapidly with his heavy breaths, pupils dilated from the shock and booze. He’s got pretty impressive bags under his eyes which - sucks. In the end none of that matters, because Bressie’s right behind him and the air is suddenly charged with this weird energy; tension, and so much more that Zayn isn’t able to describe yet.

“Looking for the shampoo?” Bressie’s voice asks, coming from much shorter distance than Zayn anticipated, all low and gravely. Keeping his head down, he doesn’t dare to glance in the mirror to check the proximity.

“It´s not here,” he babbles, swallowing. “I must have put it - somewhere else.”

It's strange to talk to someone with your body facing away, while they can watch you. A shiver runs down Zayn's back.

Zayn doesn't even think about the lost battle when he tries to leave, turning back from the mirror towards the exit.

Only his poor attempt to flee is thwarted by Bressie who simply doesn't budge up.

Zayn grips the edge of the counter top for a second, eyes squeezing shut. It takes one little movement to find out just how far behind him is Bressie standing. Or how close.

It doesn't take more than a couple of inches to come in contact with Bressie´s chest when Zayn leans back purposefully. He can feel every intake of Bressie´s breath against his nape.

“What - what are you doing, bro?” Zayn whispers harshly, well aware of sleeping Niall just behind the door. “Is this some kind of a joke?!”

The morning before, Zayn got a new haircut; Lou trimmed the sides according to his instructions, navigating the clippers with a sure hand. Zayn´d kept his hair kinda longish for quite some time so he´s been slowly adjusting to the new style. Having the now-vulnerable back of his neck fully exposed to Bressie´s eyes makes his skin crawl. Not in an entirely unpleasant way. He tenses up to stop himself from fidgeting.

Bressie´s hand brushes against Zayn´s hip; his stomach drops.

“So I reckon that you like people watchin´ you, don't ya. You like being the centre of attention. That's why you're in the band. That's why you were showing off in front of everyone in the club.”

Zayn wants to deny it quickly, but finds himself unable to speak up. Too taken aback by this whole situation, by Bressie so close to him. By Bressie acknowledging that he actually did notice what was going on in the club.

Yes, Zayn was showing off. But not for everyone. He was doing it to catch Bressie´s attention. Of course, without knowing that it would ever affect Bressie in any way, let alone made him act upon it. All the brief, barely existent touches Zayn had so carefully executed while passing Bressie at the bar. When going to the loo. When reaching for his new drink. Totally accidentally.

“Well, maybe for once I wanna have a look too.”

Zayn pulls in a sharp, surprised breath, and this time his eyes snap to the mirror so quickly he's barely able to process it -- he's staring right into Bressie´s in the mirror. While Zayn has no time to take in how he might look at the moment, he can clearly see Bressie's stern face -- determined with something that Zayn can't identify, since Bressie's more of a stranger than a mate to him.

Bressie rests his forehead on the nape of Zayn´s neck.

“Tell me I'm reading this wrong,” he whispers into the silence, voice barely audible, aimed to the floor.

Later, Zayn will be surprised how little it took to deliberately, with the highest level of confidence he could muster at that time, reach for the waistband of his tracksuit bottom and grab his own dick.

Chin pointed proudly up, Zayn´s teeth sink into his bottom lip. “Ready?” The single word sounds utterly wrecked already, cracked up and rough, very similar to how Zayn´s feeling right now, even though he is ready to give everything to cover it up.

Behind him, Bressie shuffles the last inch forward, pressing his chest against Zayn's back.

He hums appreciatively. “Eyes up, then.”

Zayn smirks at that. He has to. It's basically the last option left here, he thinks, hiding the desperation behind cockiness. And, well, isn't he master of that?

Their eyes meet in the mirror without any preamble, and it's almost like a challenge. Who´s gonna chicken out first.

Zayn begins to stroke himself slowly, without prompting, thinking of how fucking right Bressie was. He loves attention, alright? It gives him a bloody rush every time without exception, every time they perform or do photo shoots. Press is a different topic - if it goes Zayn´s way, he chooses not to speak all that much. He's always been more of an observer.

He'd changed into a t-shirt that he would normally sleep in - a washed out green thing with a Marvel picture printed on the front, threadbare and shrunk two sizes down from the tumble dryer. It's short enough to ride above his belly button while he keeps wanking himself, more purposeful now. The fabric only restricts his movements, so he pulls the waistband of his bottoms and pants down. For the view, he reckons, glancing at his own reflection.

“You look good,” Bressie says behind him, voice deep and hushed, as if to remind Zayn that he's still present. As if that could be forgotten.

Zayn wants to preen under the praise. When he looks up Bressie´s eyes are fixed on his midsection, greedy, tracking the movements of his arm; sliding lower to where the head of Zayn´s cock peeks out of the curl of his wrist.

Bressie´s cheeks are tinged pink and he looks desperate, like holding himself back, rigid against Zayn's back.

Zayn concentrates on breathing evenly; he wouldn't want this to end too soon. He leans against Bressie more heavily, hoping it might prompt Bressie to actually do something - to reassure him that it's ok if he decides to.

Bressie smells good, Zayn thinks fuzzily, it's driving him nuts. He's trying to keep his head clear, which proves to be mildly difficult with the amount of alcohol he´d consumed tonight.

As if sensing that Zayn might be zoning out slightly, Bressie speaks again, this time in a calm, slow voice.

“Gorgeous. You're fuckin´ hot,” he murmurs, loud enough for Zayn to hear, and his hand brushes the exposed skin on Zayn's belly, abdominal muscles jumping at the soft contact.

Bressie´s hand stays there, fingers splayed wide, thumb brushing Zayn´s sharp hipbone - and bloody hell how is his hand so fucking large, it easily covers most of Zayn´s tummy.

“You're perfect, sweetheart. Shit, ” Bressie says, and Zayn feels himself go warm with the sincerity of Bressie´s words.

Zayn would really, really like to be sensible and just keep quiet, but an unintentional moan makes it out of his mouth before he even notices. He flushes instantly, huffing out an annoyed sound -- he doesn't want to let Bressie know how much is this affecting him. That he's getting off on it as much as he hopes Bressie is. On the other hand, he very much wants to show him that he's enjoying himself.

He knows he looks hot. There's been months of exploration when he started masturbating, amazed with what his body could do - how it can look. It only escalated with Zayn´s sexual life. And like, of course he bloody wanted to see how he looks when he comes.

He concentrates on the feeling of a dry hand on his sensitive cock, squeezing around the dark pink head and prolonging the strokes. Tilting his head to the side and baring his neck to Bressie knowingly, he watches how his forearm muscles flex and jump.

A sudden noise of a thump comes from nowhere, cutting into the charged silence. They both freeze, Bressie´s hand flying away from Zayn´s tummy as they listen. After a few moments of complete stillness, they both decide that the noise must have come from a hall or one of the rooms around.

Zayn purses his lips in a pout, because clearly, this is going nowhere, and he's almost had enough of waiting. They are both very obviously into it (he hopes that Bressie is at least half as into it as Zayn is), so he goes back to wanking.

It´s easy to fall into a rhythm, so he doesn't wait for Bressie to catch up. Zayn´s ready to give him the show of his life.

He grips the counter with one hand to steady himself, his right hand going back to stroking. It feels fucking good, he only wishes that Bressie would participate in this, too.

The quiet, heavy breathing coming from behind him is lovely. And Zayn greedily drinks in the way Bressie's watching him, eyes flicking between Zayn's face and hand. His cock is not even fully in view but Bressie can’t seem to stop dropping his gaze there, eyebrows knitted together in bewilderment.

Zayn desperately wishes that Bressie would touch him again. Like, grab him by chin and kiss him, or grope his arse, or rough him up a bit in general. It never happens, though.

Until it does. Zayn sees from the corner of his eye Bressie´s hand move, he reaches up to brush Zayn's hair out of his face. The touch makes Zayn shiver, properly like. Shudder.

He leans into the touch a little, eyes falling shut on their own accord as he speeds up. He didn't even notice he's started sweating until Bressie touched him. Now he can feel the dampness in under his arms and on his neck. It's starting to be too much to bear, less possible to control his own actions - the low whimpers and surprised gasps when he manages a particularly good stroke.

He starts fucking into his own fist, hips flexing, and his arse keeps bumping against Bressie´s front every time he draws back, feeling the obvious bulge of Bressie´s cock.

And he definitely moans at that, no shame.

“Fuck, pet, this is -” Bressie groans, losing it as much as Zayn is, and he only arches the small of his back more, bowing it, resting the back of his head against Bressie´s shoulder lightly.

Bressie turns his head, unexpectedly. “Jesus,” he whispers, lips brushing against the side of Zayn´s neck. He drags them up to Zayn's ear, nuzzling the sensitive skin there.

“Fuck,” Zayn spits out, desperate to get himself to the finishing line as soon as possible, heat pooling in his belly and the bottom of his spine. “Just touch me. Touch me.”

Bressie looks beautiful and wrecked, as sweaty and as turned on as Zayn, but he won't listen.

Zayn sways forward, bangs his fist on the top of the counter. “Touch me,” he repeats, eyes shut and he wants. By now, he's managed to sweat through his t-shirt; it's sticking to his back uncomfortably. He makes another noise. Small and hurt. He just wants to come, badly, but needs that extra something.

Behind him, Bressie runs his hands through his hair helplessly, eyes flicking around wildly, and then - while sucking in a shaky breath - Zayn can see the moment he gives up - yes yes yes yes -

Bressie slips his giants hands past the waistbands of Zayn´s tracksuit bottoms and pants, palming his arsecheeks roughly, squeezing. His strong fingers dig in painfully, and it's so good.

Zayn hmmm´s deep in his throat, which accidentally comes off more like a whine. “Yes. Please,” he stutters pathetically.

“Eyes,” Bressie reminds him sternly, “eyes on me.”

Zayn shakes himself, ready to oblige.  

Once met with Bressie´s hungry stare, Zayn couldn't look away even if he wanted to. There's so much written all over the man´s features, and it frustrates Zayn that he's unable to read it.

His pink lips are slightly parted, nostrils flaring. He's watching Zayn watch him, and it's so hot that Zayn can barely stand it. Zayn can see himself and he's beyond any attempts at pulling any extra sexy faces, really. He's biting on his lip - has been since the beginning, probably - his forehead is crinkling, skin around his eyes pulling tight at how hard he's fighting to keep them open when all they want is to close in pleasure.

He's going to come, he can feel it, tries to hold it back - just because - but Bressie decides to paw at his bum some more, massaging it while muttering things like, “So perfect, can't believe you are letting me,” which only half makes sense - a finger slides into Zayn´s crack, accidently, judging from the way they both gasp at the same time.

Zayn´s eyes go all wide and he gulps in a breath, tensing. It's impossibly dirty - letting a guy to do this to him, and liking it.

Bressie´s ready to withdraw, reading the signals all wrong. Zayn can see the shadow of worry, of doubt, run across his face.

“Don´t -” he fumes, “don't stop touching me. Just. Please.” Zayn pants again, needy.  

Bressie makes a pleased noise in return, two of his fingertips slide back in tentatively, prodding at Zayn´s entrance, patting gently. They hold each other gazes the whole time, which is so unbelievably hot, Zayn tenses even more before finally letting go.

He literally whines, because keeping his eyes open at this point is almost impossible, but he wants to please Bressie. Everything's falling apart, he must be so noisy, but he can't do anything about it, until Bressie´s lips are suddenly on his, warm and persistent.

He's angling Zayn´s jaw delicately with careful fingers, trying to swallow his cries. Zayn´s whining through his nose, because that can't be helped, and somewhere in the back of his mind he's praying that Niall's asleep.

He rocks through his orgasm, breaths sharp and caught in the rhythm of his pounding heart. He can't feel Bressie's hands or lips on him anymore, and all of a sudden everything feels oddly cold and too real. There's jizz like, everywhere. On Zayn's hand and clothes, and a bit on the counter.

Head still spinning and only half-aware of his body, Zayn grabs a handful of tissues from the thing by the basin, wiping the counter listlessly with one hand, tucking his dick back in his pants with the other. It's not even a conscious decision to shoulder past Bressie, who´s standing there awkwardly, and just get out of there without a word.