#a couple online friends offered to call me an uber

[yardsards]

living alone is all fun and games til you have a medical emergency and there's no one there to help you to the hospital

[rina-writes]

Mom and Dad

Summary: In the same way that Grayson jokes about being the dad, you are the “mom” friend.  It never occurred to you how strange this was until you and your close friend Grayson are babysitting your cousin and someone actually mistakes you for a family.

Genre/Warnings: Fluffy, Secret Crush, Baby Fever

A/N:  This is a concept I thought of that I forced into a fic.  I’ve been obsessed with 90s aesthetic (particularly film and media and the “grainy” filters) so I am also adding some pictures that inspired me. I don’t own any rights to these pictures and thank you to these beautiful people for inspiring this fic! 

You first met the twins on one of their trips back home to Jersey.  You were visiting a family friend who happened to live near their house.  It was super early in their YouTube careers, so you only knew from your family friend that the boys had dropped out school, moved to LA, and made videos online.  Like most people hearing this, you assumed the Dolans were a privileged family with spoiled kids that only worried about when their next trust fund payment would hit their account.  You were pleasantly surprised when, upon hearing that you were visiting, the Dolan family welcomed you into their home and threw a little barbecue for you and your folks.  Not only were the boys down-to-earth, but they were also kind and easy to be around.  You became fast friends and often spent time together when they came to visit.

It would be a lie to say that they didn’t play a role in you deciding to move to LA for college.  They talked about LA so much, that you always wanted to live there.  The couple times you visited, the twins showed you how much fun sunshine could be, even if you missed the four seasons of the northeast. 

It would also be a lie to say that BOTH the twins were your motivation for wanting to move to the sunny state.  You were a bit partial to the younger, but larger twin, Grayson.  The way you would describe your connection was that you and Ethan were similar, but you and Grayson were compatible. You agreed on the things that mattered, but you and Grayson balanced each other out. Where he was impulsive, you were calculated.  Where you came off aloof, he was gregarious.  You liked to think you brought out the best in each other.  You had a small crush on Grayson, but it was one of those crushes you only felt when you were near to him.  When you were back in school, you didn’t think about him that much.  However, when you hung out at their house or went out to grab a bite, you were completely consumed by him. His hair, his eyes, his laugh, his large hands...everything about him seemed to be crafted by the heavens.  

You didn’t want your feelings to get in the way of your friendship, so you never told anyone how you felt.  Of course, some people figured it out.  Most girls around the Dolan twins fell for either of them. They had that effect on people because they would make you seem like the most important person in the world.  Grayson definitely catered to you more than Ethan. It didn’t help your feelings for him, as you often spent time together doing menial tasks.  That’s why you weren’t entirely surprised when Grayson offered to help you babysit your cousin.  It was a combination of two things Grayson enjoyed: helping people and pretending to be a dad.

Your cousins were visiting you in LA from Jersey.  Your first cousin and his husband recently adopted a toddler named Monica.  While they were excited to have her in their life, you knew that your cousins needed some alone time.  You encouraged them to build a couple’s day full of activities from the spa to dining at an exclusive restaurant.  To ensure they could some of alone time, you would watch Monica for a few hours.  It took quite a bit of convincing, like most new parents, they were attached to their kid. After multiple conversations, and almost begging, you finally convinced them to let you take her out for a fun day in Los Angeles.

You mentioned it casually the night before you were going to pick her up.  You were at dinner with the twins and a few of their friends.  Grayson’s eyes sparkled instantly.

“I can help you with Monica.” He grinned widely.  “We can take her to this new museum for kids.  It’s free entry on Saturday mornings.”

“Why do you know that?” Ethan asked, yelling at his brother despite sitting next to him.

“I saw an article about it...” Grayson yelled back. “Some people read about the news Ethan.”

“O-kay” Ethan put up his hands as he rolled his eyes.  “Trying to show off for Y/N because she’s in college or whatever.  I see you.”

“I’m not...” Grayson said, his voice getting softer as he glanced at you. 

“Well, it works out.” Ethan shrugged.  “You’re such a mom, Y/N.  I can’t get over that Snap! The one where you were tipsy, but still  putting all the girls in your sorority to bed.  You braided that one girl’s hair!”

You blushed as there was a chorus of laughter from the table. “Oh come, on! I’m not a mom, I’m just responsible.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” Grayson reassured you.  “I have to take care of Ethan all the time.”

Ethan narrowed his eyes at Grayson. “You don’t take care of me...”

Grayson opened his mouth to argue, but you put up a hand to stop him.  Once those two got started, nothing could get them to shut up.

“Tomorrow then?” You smiled, nodding at Grayson.

“Tomorrow!” Grayson confirmed nodding back.  There was a moment where you locked eyes like there was some weird secret between you too, but neither of you seemed to know what it was.  Blushing, you both awkwardly sipped your beverages until someone changed the subject.

When you went to pick Monica up the next morning, you were greeted by big hugs from your cousins. 

“Oh my goodness, Y/N” Your cousin said, looking at you while picking up Monica. In the background, his husband put the final items in Monica’s travel bag.  “Is that your mom’s shirt? I remember her wearing something similar back in the day.”

You laughed and nodded, looking down at the thin, emerald green sweater with four adjacent squares in red, yellow, blue and pink going across the bust. You pulled it down to cover your leggings that stopped at your ankles above your dark slip on shoes. 

“I stole it from the attic.  It’s kind of my style right now.” You grinned.  “Do you like the hat?”

“The beret.” Your cousin’s husband corrected as he leaned over to tilt it to the side. “I believe that was your mother’s too.”

Your cousin and his husband had dated for a long time before getting married.  They practically grew up together, so naturally, your cousin’s husband also knew your family too.  It reminded you a bit of you and Grayson. Except, the dating and married part, of course.

“You got me!” You shrugged, laughing again.  “The lady has great style what can I say?”

“Alright,” Your cousin sighed as he gave Monica a final hug. His husband kissed Monica’s cheek before your cousin handed her to you. 

You took the little girl in your arms.  She had a bit of weight to her, but she was still quite small.  She was close to your complexion, with large eyes and a tiny mouth. She was quiet, constantly observing and didn’t seem to react to anything, not even being handed off to an almost complete stranger.  You made a mental note to make sure she was by your side at all times. 

“You have your pull-ups, your snacks, your wash cloths, your bandaids....” Your cousin tapped the bag on his husband’s shoulder.  “You have it all! Anything you need, do not hesitate to call us.”

“Don’t worry!” You comforted them.  “It’s only six hours.  I’ve babysat for 12 hours and that was for three very....not nice children.  Monica has veteran babysitter with her today.”

“You know we trust you!” Your cousin smiled.  “We just know how much of a doozy it can be to take care of a toddler.  Besides, I think we’re getting a bit of parent separation anxiety.”

You shifted Monica to your hip and reached out for the travel bag. “And she will be back in your arms in six hours! Make sure you are rejuvenated and relaxed when you meet her.”

“Well if you insist...” Your cousin joked, not without taking another longing look at his daughter

“Are you sure you can take both?” Your cousin’s husband asked as he prepared to hand you the travel the bag.  “While she may try to trick you into carrying her everywhere, she can walk.” He added a laugh.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  You nodded.  Just as you were about to take the bag, you heard a knock on the door.

Given that it was a hotel, the three adults looked at each other with confusion.  Your cousin opened the door to see a nervously smiling Grayson waving at you.

“Sorry I’m late.” Grayson apologized stepping in.  “I didn’t want to take the Porsche so I borrowed a car from one of my editors.  It took longer than I expected.”

“No worries.” You smiled, “But I thought we would meet at the museum?”

“I figured you would need some help.” Grayson grinned. “No sense taking a Uber if I have a car.”

Grayson looked around and upon seeing the travel bag made a soft ‘oh’ sound as he took it from your cousin. 

“Oh, this is Grayson.” You introduced Grayson to your family.

“Is this your boyfriend?” Your cousin’s husband asked after shaking Grayson’s hand.

“No,” You laughed softly, hoping it sounded natural and not panicked/secretly thrilled, “He’s a family friend who lives out here in LA.”

“I’m family, and I don’t remember him being a friend.” Your cousin quirked a brow.

You could see Grayson’s face turning red and you cleared your throat. 

“I think we should get going before the museum is no longer free, huh?” You said, changing the subject before the interrogation continued.

“Ha, good idea!” Grayson said, catching on quickly.

“Be safe you two!” Your cousin called as Grayson held the door for you.  

You smiled as Grayson led you to the car.  He was a little dressed up with a long sleeved white shirt, tucked into his dark jeans with a designer belt.  You were so used to seeing him fully casual with no shirt and the tiniest shorts.  It made your heart melt that he had gotten dressed up for Monica.  

Grayson put Monica’s travel bag in the trunk of the black sedan, before running over to open the door for you.

“Take your time.” You told him.  “We’re in no rush, right Mo?” You asked Monica, who was sucking her thumb and taking in her surroundings.

You eyebrows went up in surprise when you saw a car seat in the back seat.

“Ace Family...” Grayson explained, blushing softly.  “I read that young kids should always have a car seat and I wasn’t sure if your cousin had one.”

“I think she usually just sits in someone’s lap.” You bit your lip.  “But, I’m sure this is way safer.  This is so thoughtful, Grayson!”

Grayson beamed at your words. It warmed your heart when he gave you the large goofy smile.  It was his natural one when he wasn’t posing for pictures or trying to look hot.  The smile that only came out when he was really happy.

You watched as Monica fidgeted in the car seat, making it almost impossible for Grayson to buckle her in.  He started to sweat, the stains appearing under his armpits and you fought back a chuckle.

“Let me try?” You offered.

“Uh sure...” Grayson bashfully moved away, watching you as you distracted Monica with the jingling bracelet on your left wrist while you used your right hand to buckle the first clip.  Monica reached for one of your charms and you took the opportunity to clasp the other belt that finished the part on her waist.

“Hands up!” You said, excitedly, secretly surprised that Monica followed your direction, but also happy she did since Grayson looked so impressed.

You buckled the seat belt that went over her body and leaned back to look at her.

“Feeling good, Monica?” You asked.

She nodded softly, looking off in the distance.

“Give me a wiggle.” And you shook your shoulders.

She glanced at you and mimicked you with the same emotionless expression.

Grayson laughed. “She is actually the cutuest.”

“I know right?” You said, looking at him with your lower lip jutted out, a pout in reaction to her cuteness.

Monica looked between the two of you before turning her attention back to whatever outside the window seemed to be so interesting.  She was probably the most laid back toddler you ever met.  This was going to be easy.

“Should I introduce myself?” Grayson asked nervously.

“Honestly, I should probably introduce myself too.” You laughed.  “She was just kinda handed to me.”

You leaned over to be in front of Monica and she turned slightly to give you her attention.

“Now, I’m Y/N.” You said, putting a hand on your chest.  “We met last year, but you probably don’t remember.”

You put a hand on Grayson’s shoulder.  “This is Grayson.”

Grayson stuck out his hand for a handshake and you sputtered laughter.

“Grayson, she’s three she won’t...”

Monica took Grayson’s hand and he shook, giving you a smug expression.

“You were saying?” Grayson asked making you roll your eyes.

“Okay, okay...” You put your hands up. “You’re pretty good with kids...so far!”

You pointed at him, to emphasize that he hadn’t won you over just yet.  

“You just wait, Y/N.” Grayson said, walking to the driver’s seat. You followed suit, and walked to the passenger seat.

“I’ll be such a good a dad, you’ll be calling me Daddy.” Grayson winked, and glanced at you to see your shocked expression. “Oh good god, not like that.”

You laughed, punching him lightly. “I’m just kidding, Gray. I know what you meant.” 

“Oh sure laugh it up.” Grayson said, rolling his eyes as he started to drive. You glanced at him and the tips of his ears were still red from blushing.  So cute...

When you arrived at the museum, Monica’s personality busted out. She loved the exhibits where she could touch stuff, enjoying the slime the most.  You spent about 45 minutes just watching her sticking her hand in goop.  You and Grayson took turns holding her and helping her make shapes with the material.  You took pictures of Grayson, your heart melting seeing his genuine happiness playing with Monica. Every time she made her little toddler giggle, Grayson’s smile double in size.  You were going to treasure these photos forever.  

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You said to Grayson, who gave a quick nod.

You smiled and walked to the bathroom.  After doing your business, you inspected your face.  You dug into your bag and went to apply lip gloss.  You fixed your hat a few times, still not sure if it really went with your hairstyle.

“Uhm, excuse me?” A woman about your mom’s age alerted you.

“Hi?” You turned around and you eyes widened to see Monica holding the woman’s hand, sucking her thumb.

“Monica...what...” You reached down to pick Monica up and the lady smiled softly. You were about to ask for an explanation, but the lady quickly provided one.

“Your husband said you were in here and your daughter wanted to use the bathroom.  He said you would be the girl fixing her beret in the mirror.”

You blushed and laughed softly.  “My husband, huh?” You shook your head.”Well thank you...”

“Come on, Monica.” You said to Monica who was holding on to your shoulder with her free hand.  “Let’s go potty.”

You helped Monica use the bathroom, realizing that Grayson did not provide you with the travel bag, so you had to clean her up without the fancy wipes and creams you cousins packed. 

With both of your hands washed, you escorted Monica out the bathroom who, the moment she was out, ran to Grayson who was waiting across the hall.  He picked her up and she held on to him, resuming sucking on her finger.

“I forgot you would need this.” Grayson said, gesturing to the bag on his shoulder, while he shifted Monica’s weight to your hip.

“I know, my husband is so silly.” You narrowed your eyes.

“What did you want me to say?” Grayson said, looking around embarrassed.  “Monica started crying all of a sudden saying she couldn’t hold it.  I ran with her to the bathroom, but I couldn’t walk in and I wasn’t going to take her into the guy’s room.  So, I started to explain that you were in there and she was like “Oh I’ll take her to your wife.” I didn’t want to correct her...it felt like a bad time.”

“I’m just relieved that Monica didn’t announce she had two dads.” You laughed.  “Might have been a little awkward to explain with my husband waiting outside the door.”

“Yikes,” Grayson said, making a face. “Though, I am sorry. I didn’t realize it would put you in such a predicament.”

“It’s fine!” You tried to assuage his worries, laughing. “I mean, we’re like 20...it’s her fault for thinking this was our kid. And that we were married. She’s the weirdo”

“I dunno...” Grayson said, looking at the three of you in the reflection of one of the displays. “It’s not the weirdest thing in the world. Being assumed to be married to me?”

You noticed a bit of bite in his tone and you frowned.  “You’re not the problem, Gray.  I’m just saying we are a little young.”

Grayson didn’t say anything to you in response. Instead, he asked Monica if she wanted to go to the dinosaur exhibit again, another favorite of hers.  She started bouncing up and down, and Grayson carried her toward the exhibit.  You scurried to keep up, confused at what you said to tick him off.  When you arrived, you saw there was a show for the kids.  It was one of those shows where there was a “dinosaur expert” and some people in dinosaur costumes explaining each of the species.

Grayson put Monica down in front and went to stand in the back with the other parents.  He was staring straight ahead, pretending to be very invested.  You could tell he was pretending because his eyes were glazing over. 

“G-Gra--” You started to say, but then his phone started to vibrate.

Grayson glanced down and ignored the spam call, showing his background. The background was of you playing with Monica in the slime.  You blushed and pretended not to notice. Suddenly, it made sense why Grayson was so huffy.  You didn’t want to get too excited, because you were still not 100% sure it was true.

“Hey,” You nudged him. “You’re going to be a great dad one day.”

Grayson glanced at you before looking forward. “Thanks...”

“While, I’m not ready to be a 20 year old mom,” You bit your lip, “I would be down to date one of my best friends...”

Grayson whipped his head to stare at you and you smiled. You unlocked your phone to show your wallpaper, a picture of him playing with Monica.

“Huh,” Grayson smirked. “I didn’t realize how creepy that is until I see it on someone else’s phone.”

“It’s only creepy if you’re not dating the person.” You smiled.

Grayson bit his lip and chuckled. “Thank goodness we’re changing that.”

Your eyes widened.  “Are you asking me out?”

“At the dinosaur musical...” Grayson said, gesturing to the stage.  “Of course, the only place where mom friends and dad friends can truly be ourselves.”

You laughed and Grayson continued to scold himself out loud for being the lamest person ever.

“Would it be weird to kiss someone at a dinosaur musical?” You asked, glancing down at the floor.

Grayson tried to hide his smile, but it was stretching across his face too quickly. He cupped your cheek and pecked your lips softly. As he began to pull away, you started to kiss back, keeping you two connected for a few more seconds.

“That was nice...” You said, smiling. “Really nice.”

Grayson put his arm around you and kissed your forehead lightly.  You both turned toward the show and watched for a bit before Grayson leaned in and asked,

“Can we tell E we started dating tomorrow?” He looked away as he continued to speak forcing you to lean in to hear him. “I don’t want him to know I finally made a move at a freaking dinosaur musical.”

You laughed and grabbed the sides of his jaw to turn him to face you. “Maybe, but you’ll have to make it worth my while.”

Grayson gave you a mischievous grin as he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours. His eyes bore into yours causing the heat to rise to your cheeks. You blushed more as Grayson’s voice, suddenly deepening to whisper said,

“Remember that conversation about you calling me Daddy...”

[illfoandillfie]

Hey darling, for prompt weekend can I have B1, C4, and F14 with either Roger or Ben? You’re the best and the greatest!

her you go darling! I went with Ben since most of the requests have been for Rog and I wanted somethign a lil different lmao Hope you like it!

Extensive talking during foreplay and sex + In costume + In a bath tub

The party had been fun, right up until your friend and her boyfriend snuck off together, leaving you in a room full of strangers. The host was one of her friends that you’d met in passing once or twice but couldn’t pick out of the mass of costumed people, and that was the strongest connection you had to anyone there. You were contemplating leaving, texting your friend so she knew where you’d disappeared to and just calling an Uber or something. You even had your phone out, composing the text, when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Cher right?”

“Sorry?” you turned, hoping the man in denim overalls and a short sleeved red shirt that you’d come face to face with, could hear you over the noise.

“You’re dressed as Cher from… fuck I had the name a second ago…Clueless,”

“Correct on both counts. Good spot Mario”

He laughed and shrugged, “It’s an easy costume to throw together. But my friend is dressed as Luigi so I’m not the only unimaginative one,”

“My friend is dressed as Dion but she ditched me to make out with her boyfriend,”

“Group costume then?”

“Yeah. One we’ve used a couple of times now, but shhh,” you held your finger over your lips.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Can I get you another drink?”

“That’d be lovely, thanks,”

“I’m Ben by the way, probably should have said that earlier,”

“Y/N,”

“Pretty name. Give me a minute and I’ll be back with another,” he indicated your mostly empty cup and then turned and disappeared into the crowd congregating near the alcohol.

You slipped your phone back into your purse. Maybe the party could still be fun.

 When Ben returned he handed you a fresh drink and you found yourselves heading outside where it was a little easier to talk.

“So, your friends ditch you to make out too or?”

“Not quite. I ditched them to talk to you,”

“Well I’m flattered,”

“I take it you don’t know anyone else here,”

“Nah, you?”

“Not really. But at least we can be the weird outsiders together,”

You laughed and held up your cup, “cheers to that,”

 For a while you stayed out in the cool night, finding a spot on the lawn to sit and chat. Ben was nice, sweet. He asked about your job and your friends and your pets, made dumb jokes you found hard not to laugh at, told you about himself. And he flirted. Openly and shamelessly. It was cute though. He shuffled closer so you were practically sitting on top of each other, his hand slipping behind you, palm to the ground for him to lean his weight on as he reached over to brush a strand of your hair back. The conversation was full of suggestion and innuendos, said with a boyish smile and an easy laugh, once or twice a bitten lip. It was hard to resist. Especially when you hadn’t expected anything like it to happen. But being chatted up by a cute boy was definitely an improvement on the night before he’d introduced himself. And really, getting a little action would be very welcome. So you flirted back, a hand on his arm or his chest as you laughed at his jokes. Licking your lips to draw his gaze. So, when he leaned in to kiss you, you let him and you kissed him back and you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him there.

 It was clear where things were headed so you suggested finding somewhere a little more private. Unfortunately there were people spread throughout the entire bottom floor.

“Upstairs?” Ben asked, pulling you by the hand back towards the hallway.

“Isn’t it roped off so people don’t go up there?”

“No one’ll notice if we’re careful,”

You giggled and agreed, Ben climb over first and then gave you a hand stepping over too. That was when you saw it.

“You have a tattoo!”

“Shhhh,” Ben laughed, trying to tiptoe up the stairs, “Yeah I do,”

“Can I see it?”

“Let’s find a room first. What about,” he pushed open the first door and found a bathroom, “Will this do?”

“Absolutely.” You shut and lock the door behind you.

Ben’s first thought was to lift you onto the sink but he stopped with his hands on your hips, and frowned. The bench wasn’t really wide enough to be comfortable and what space there was, was taken up by discarded makeup and hair products. But what was lacking about the sink was made up for by the size of the bath. You indicated it instead and Ben shrugged and held out his hand to help you in.

“Uh uh, you gotta get your kit off first. How am I meant to ride you though fucking overalls?”

“Alright, alright,” he laughed, unhooking the first strap and throwing it over his shoulder with a pout worthy of a model. You took your blazer off and then your knickers but left the skirt on as Ben discarded the overalls.

“So you wanted to see,” he pushed the sleeve of his shirt up so you could see the ink marking his shoulder, “You like it?”

“I do. Simple but really cool.”

“You don’t have any?” this time he stepped into the tub first before offering his hand and getting comfortable himself, legs stretched out in front of him, leaning against one end, “oh, cold on my arse,”

“That’s what you get for wearing a one piece. And, no, I don’t.”

“Technically two pieces with the shirt. God I hope this bath is clean,”

You distracted him by kissing him again as you settled on his lap, your knees wedged between his legs and the sides of the bath. But Ben was at least somewhat of a gentleman because you feel his hand on your arse and then on your thigh and then between your legs. You sighed into the kiss as he found your wetness, spreading it over your pussy lips and up to your clit.

“I – mmmh – I wouldn’t mind getting a tattoo actually,”

“Tattoos are hot, especially on attractive women,”

You hum, half because you agreed and half because you felt him press two fingers into you. It wasn’t not long before you wanted more, wanted what you’d been promised, so you dropped your hand between you to stroke his dick. He gasped softly at the contact.

“So how come you haven’t got any tats?” his voice was slightly strained as you worked your hand over his shaft.

“I don’t know, I guess- you’ve got condoms yeah?”

“Back pocket,” he pointed at his discarded costume and you released him to grab the overalls.

“I guess I just haven’t properly looked into it yet.” You ripped the condom open with your teeth and began sliding it onto him, “S’pose I don’t really know how to go about it,”

“Yeah, the first one’s a bit dau-nting,” his voice hitched as you lowered yourself onto his dick, “But it’s pretty simple really.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, you feel amazing,”

“Meant tats, do they h-hurt as much as people say?

Ben chuckled, his hands finding a place on your hips and squeezing as you began to raise and lower yourself, “I mean it’s needling ink into your skin, it’s not painless. Guess it, uh fuck, guess it depends on pain tolerance and stuff. Any idea what design you’d want?”

“Not really. Maybe something like a sunflower,”

“Cute,”

“Thanks,” you braced your hands on Ben’s chest so you could take him a little faster, “My friends got one of a fox, looks like watercolour,”

“Yeah I’ve se-een them online. Really cool,”

“Maybe something like that, but a bird. You want any, ohh, anymore tats or just the one?”

“I’d l-ove more. Not sure of what yet.”

“My name?”

He laughed again though it turned into more of a moan as you clenched, “You could get mine too,”

“Make me cum and I’ll think about it.”

Ben took the hint and brought his fingers to your clit again, rubbing it firmly as you tried to keep the pace of your bouncing despite the way your knees were beginning to hurt.

“Just like that Ben, don’t stop,”

Ben nodded and kept up his ministrations until you stilled, mouth falling open and fingers tightening on his chest. He followed quickly, head falling back against the side of the tub.

“Fuck,” he laughed, pulling you into a kiss “You look ridiculously sexy right now.”

“You think this is sexy you should see what I sleep in,”

“If that’s an invitation then I accept.”

“Put your pants back on and we can call and Uber,”

“So,” Ben said as he was pulling his overalls back on, “where are you going to get it?”

“Get what?”

“My name when you get it tattooed on you? I was thinking it’d look good on your arse but up to you,”

“Think I’ll still to the sunflowers,”

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Elizabeth Rowandale

Elizabeth Rowandale has 16 stories at Gossamer spanning from 1995 to 2012, plus she has more at AO3 (other fandoms too). She's been giftng the fandom with stories for a long time! I've talked about some of my favorites of her stories before, including Hallways and Water's Edge. Big thanks to Elizabeth for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Yes and no.  When I find myself suddenly caught up in a fandom that has already lived its glory days (which happens a lot, I'm habitually late to the party), I am always ravenous for fic written during the original run - it always has a different perspective and voice and it's like a little bit of the experience captured in time -- so I can understand how others would be interested in my past.  That said, some of my early stuff is pretty awful. LOL.  I have left it online for two reasons: 1. Nostalgia, 2. I know there are some fics I've read in my life that may not have been the best written in a literary sense, but just had something magical about them that fed exactly what I needed.  And I would hate it if the author took down that work and I could never find it again (which has happened).  So I try to respect that same sentiment should it appear in one of my readers.  I'd say by about 6th or 7th season of the original run, my work became presentable. :)  My largest X-Files work ("Water's Edge") was begun during the original run and completed about a year after the show ended.  That one I definitely still claim as my work, even though there's certainly stuff I would fix if I were writing it now.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

So many things!  Let's start with my husband. :D  I met the love of my life on the X-Files newsgroup in spring of 1995.  We were married a year later, and we are still married 24 years later and have a 20 year old daughter.  One of the most important friendships of my life came from being part of this fandom - she began as an "Edgehead" during the original posting of "Water's Edge". The fandom brought me my family, friends, and made me believe in myself as a writer and, in some ways, as a person worth being friends with, for the first time in my life.  It's kind of crazy, really, how different my life would be without it.  The experience was not without its flaws.  There was a lot of judgementalism, a lot of cliquishness, a lot of snobbery.  I was condemned almost as much as I was welcomed.  But in the end it was all worth the life experience.

As far as the fic itself, X-Files was my first real experience with fanfic, and it thoroughly spoiled me for all other fandoms forever, because the sheer VOLUME of professional quality work being put out there was mind-boggling.  I expected all fandoms to be like this, and the fact is this is extremely rare and precious.  I think I could read X-Files fic for the rest of my life and never run out of pieces worth reading.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

I started out primarily on a.t.x.c..  Then progressed to mailing lists (especially Scullyfic/E-muse!), and later was very involved on The Haven.  The Haven was quite a magical experience.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

I think I answered this by over-babbling on the question above. :D  But ultimately, I think I would have to say my belief in literature as a tool to connect people on an intimate level that almost nothing else can.  To give people a brief moment of sharing their precious internal worlds and inviting someone else to step into it with them.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

Really, it was inevitable.  It has all the classic tropes that have always spoken to me - Supernatural horror, law enforcement partners, partner UST, misfits as heroes, haunting soundtrack.  But amusingly enough, my first impression of it was negative.  My mother and I had been religiously watching "Sightings", a FOX reality show (before "reality shows" were a thing) on the supernatural.  Then that got cancelled and they replaced it with some show that was about fictionalized encounters with and investigations of the paranormal.  And we were like WTF we don't want that, we want real investigations and evidence!  So I didn't watch it out of protest. :D  Then one night I stumbled upon it when I had nothing to do and watched "Lazarus".  I thought the show was okay, but that I could never really get invested in it because there was no real chemistry between Mulder and Scully (yes, you can laugh me out of the room now :D).  But the thing is, you can't FIND the significant moments in that episode unless you're already embroiled in their world.  Like when Mulder calls her "Dana" on the phone and we all know he's panicking big time -- this was my first episode, so I assumed he always called her Dana, no big.  Some time passed, then I saw Conduit.  And Tooms.  And I started to get really sucked in.  Then I saw Genderbender.  Now, if you know me at all, you know since I was about 6 years old, my life has revolved around my current muse.  I get obsessed with a certain actress/performer/character, and that becomes my lens for the whole world (yes, at 6 it was Lynda Carter as Diana Prince).  I have always moved from one Muse to the next, and the few times I've been without a focus person I'm very untethered and unproductive.  So, I'd been in one of my longest dry spells following my Madonna and Vivien Leigh obsessions, mostly focusing on reading Dean Koontz books, when X-Files came along.  And this obsession was unique in that I can actually pinpoint the moment I fell.  I was sitting in my bedroom watching Genderbender, and they were outside the general store and Scully had just been touched by Brother Andrew and was a little tripped out and staring after the horse and cart when Mulder stepped up to see if she was okay, and...I actually felt myself falling for Gillian Anderson.  And there was this moment of both elation and bittersweetness, because I knew how all-consuming my obsessions could be and the emotional rollercoaster they could entail (especially when I was younger, I'm a little better armored now :)).  But I have no control over when and where they hit.  But I knew by the end of that episode that I was off on another wild ride of the muse. :)

So, the short answer is -- Gillian Anderson. :D

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

Truthfully, I can't experience anything without writing fanfic in my head.  I've been doing it in one form or another my whole life, I just didn't know until the X-Files (and the internet) how many other people were like me!!  I started writing X-Files fic before I was even online.  In fact, The X-Files was the reason I got my first internet service - because the fandom was moving online and I didn't want to miss out.  I read my first fanfic in the Unofficial X-Files Fanclub monthly zine and it fascinated me.  I wrote my first X-Files fic, a first season story called "Silent Lines", before I had ever been on the internet, and I had it published in that same fanclub newsletter.  (I was already writing original fiction, hoping to make writing my career).  Later, after I had joined the internet XF community, I wrote a post-ep to "Irresistible" that I posted online.  That was my first online fic.  Some time after (and a few more fics down the road) when all the rights to "Silent Lines" had reverted to me, I posted that online as well.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I dabble now and then. :)  When the reboot came about, I came back to the old stomping grounds and reconnected with some of the Old Guard.  I still have a fair amount of pretty Mulder and Scully on my Twitter feed, and I continue to follow all Gillian Anderson's new projects.  But it's not my primary focus at the moment.  (My serial monogamist muse has another lover this year. :))

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Several (Stargate, Sanctuary, Xena, Battlestar Galactica, Once Upon a Time, etc.).  As I mentioned before, almost none of them had anywhere NEAR the quality and quantity of fanfic The X-Files has to offer.  The closest I experienced was the Xena fandom.  There are some AMAZING Uber fics and Conqueror fics, many of which went on to be published as original novels.  Some fandoms were colder and more cruel than The X-Files.  Some were warmer and more generous.  I was most prolific during my years in the Stargate fandom.  I wrote something like 80 fics.  It was crazy.  I don't think I'll ever be that prolific again.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Just from anything?  From television Dana Scully, Stella Gibson, Laura Roslin, Sharon Raydor, Regina Mills.  I love powerful women with scars.  Kind women at heart who will fight for what they believe in and whom they love.  Mothers - whether in actuality or at heart.  I love women who prove strength and power can be completely synonymous with femininity.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

A couple of months ago my husband and daughter and I finished a complete X-Files rewatch (original series and movies), taking our daughter through it for the first time.  It was awesome to re-experience it all through her eyes.  She grew up hearing about it, but had never seen more than a handful of episodes (and, sadly, the reboot LOL).

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

Every now and then I indulge in X-Files fic, yes.  Sometimes new stuff, most often revisiting old favorites.

I definitely read in my current fandoms.  For a few years I didn't, but lately I've been at it again.  Right now my primary muse is Mary McDonnell, so I'm obsessing over her various roles through the years.  Been reading fic for "Major Crimes", "Dances with Wolves", "Battlstar Galactica", "Passion Fish", and "ER" (specifically pertaining to Eleanor Carter).

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

Of course. :)  Mish's "No Quarter Given" will always own my soul. [Lilydale note: It’s a 3-part story: 1, 2, 3.] "Black Hole Season" by Penumbra, "Above Rubies" by Rachel Howard, "Blinded by White Light" by DashaK, "Sounds of Silence" by GirlGone, "Blood Oranges" by Syntax6, "Absolute Zero" and "Never Enough" by August.  So many more.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

From X-Files, I can't really choose between "Water's Edge" which took the most out of me) and "Bridges" (which I wrote just a couple of year ago).   I wrote them from very different places and I am proud of what I accomplished in each case. YMMV.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

Never say never? :D  I still feel badly that I left the sequel to "Water's Edge", "High Tide", hanging after posting just a few chapters. I never should have started it. My muse jumped ship to another fandom, and there was really nothing I could do.  And I'm such a different person now, I don't know if what I would write now is what people who loved the first book would actually want to hear.  I came back with the reboot and wrote "Bridges" and that largely said everything I needed to say about what happened to Mulder and Scully after "I Want to Believe".  So, realistically, that was probably my XF writing swan song.  But I would never say I won't ever post another fic.  As the saying goes, "It all comes back to the X-Files".  (And, yes, there's PLENTY of half-finished fic on my hard drive. LOL)

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I do.  Now that my kid is grown, I'm trying to seriously pursue a professional writing career from here forward.  And I do still dabble writing fic in my current fandoms.  Right now there is a Major Crimes fic sitting on my hard drive waiting for me to work up the nerve to post it.;)

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Once I'm inside my POV character's head, the narrative in my brain won't shut up.  I flesh out and what-if everything.  I fill in every moment that doesn't appear on screen.  I talk to myself a lot and live in my head and sometimes scare family members.  I get some sort of orgasmic high from things like seeing Laura Roslin grasp and tuck into her own hair when she's crying while my inner voice screams "OMG IT'S CANON SHE SELF-SOOTHES WITH HER HAIR!!!!!"  I maintain a surprisingly sane outer presentation for the crazy obsessed artist I am within.

What's the story behind your pen name?

When I began removing my real name from the internet (for you young folks, we all started out using our Real Names and building our virtual houses on Geocities, then got warned from everywhere of the scary scary place that is cyberspace and started NEVER EVER using our real names, then Facebook came along and now everyone and their dog is out there with their real names, and Gen X is still going WTF ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!??), I simply chose what I found to be a pretty last name (Rowandale).  Elizabeth is my real name.  Along the way, when I had started to feel confined by expectations for my writing based on my reputation, I challenged myself to be more honest in what I wanted to write by using the mental trick of a pen name no one knew was actually me, and invented "Rowan Darkstar" (the darker "edgier" side of Elizabeth Rowandale).  "Rowan" was taken from Rowan Mayfair in Anne Rice's "The Witching Hour", my favorite novel at the time.  Later, I went public with the fact I was Rowan Darkstar, and when I moved into my next fandom, I did so with that as my primary name.  I have written in most of my fandoms as either Rowan Darkstar or LadyRowan with the exception of anything else Gillian Anderson related wherein I carried over the Elizabeth Rowandale since there were many crossover readers from X-Files.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

Many of them do, yes.  For many years my mother was my primary beta reader!!  Sadly, she now suffers from dementia and can no longer fill that role.  My best friend came into my life through my Stargate and Sanctuary fic, so there's no hiding from her, and she is now my beta.:)  My husband met me in the fandom.  So...yeah, most of my close friends know.:)  In my 'other life' as an Army wife (now retired) and suburban Mom not so much.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

The most reliable place is probably AO3.  It doesn't have much of my older stuff, but I generally post anything new there.  I'm Rowan_D on Twitter.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files?

No, you can't be red/green colorblind and be a field agent for the FBI.  No, soul groups don't work that way, Scully would have been his lover in some lifetimes, too.  Yes, someone with Scully's education and deliberate precision of language WOULD say "for whom?" and not "for who?", you are quite right to cringe.  No, you can't drive to Quantico and back to downtown DC and have it still be morning.  And lastly -- The Kansas town after which they modeled "The Rain King" is NOT brown, it is NOT flat, it HAS a regional airport, and the residents are educated and intelligent.  I lived there at the time -- There was a whole layout in the local paper about the crew visiting for "authenticity."  I still marvel at how that is even possible.

(Posted by Lilydale on August 25, 2020)

[tisziny]

Long post.

Sometimes I just feel completely emotionally constipated. Like I feel over whelmed by my anxiety or my depression or what I think is a decent case of ADHD, and whatever else. But I can't cry. The only times I seem to cry is watching sad Pokemon episodes, or if my girlfriend and I are on different pages on something and we talk it out with tears. Or when a pet dies but let's not go there.

Sydney (and new south wales as a whole) is in a covid lockdown at the moment. I have left the house twice in the last month, once to the chemist to get my script and once to a different chemist to get my second shot of the covid vaccine. And this is my first real lockdown. Last year I was still working the whole time and still grocery shopping in person. But the Delta wave is more serious, work can't pay me because the federal government won't give us the same support as last year, so I have been on unpaid leave for all of August and will continue to be for all of September and with what I've seen in the news it's gonna stay like this until at least November. (But the state government is offering a payment for people who can't work in lockdown so I don't have to worry about rent etc)

The thing is, I really underestimated how much not having a choice in this whole thing would weigh on me. I was sorta jealous of people locked down? Because I didn't want to go to work and I didnt want to go get groceries and I didn't want to be an essential worker in that I was going to work but not essential enough that I got the vaccine early or kept on the higher payment from the government as long as other careers were. And I always thought I would be fine stuck at home because that's all I ever wanted to do was stay at home.

I've always considered myself as very introverted. But I'm starting to wonder if I've just taken all my social anxiety symptoms and called it introverted because it's easier to explain. And like, I don't like large social groups, I'm anxious around too many people, especially new people. I don't like going to night clubs or bars or parties where I only know one or two people. I hate when I have to go places I don't know the 'rules' too or have never been to before. But at the same time I want to see my friends and I want to see them often. I'll call people my friends even if I haven't seen them in years and I'm always happy to go out of my way to catch up with someone passing through the city. But on a regular basis I only ever really talk to the same three or four people outside of my family and Meagan. I'm good at small talk (according to my girlfriend) and I like to make casual chitchat with a friendly person on the bus (as long as they're not giving me bad vibes) or the uber driver or whatever. Even when im having a panic attack in public if I'm in the middle of shopping I make an effort to be friendly to anyone I need to interact with. Am I'm not introverted at all? I'd hardly say I'm am extrovert but maybe I'm just in the middle. But my anxiety and my fear of making a fool of myself, paired with my (as yet undiagnosed) ADHD and tendency to hyper fixate on topics of interest to me (and people) has made me hyper aware of being embarrassing when I talk too much or about the wrong things has just lead me to believe I was introverted. And my sister always point things like that out to me never helped.

I'm getting off topic. The point is, I'm not coping well in lockdown. I thought I would be fine. Meagan had been fine. But I thought I would be okay and I really haven't been and my coping mechanism has always been shut down and work on auto pilot if necessary. But I feel like I'm spending all my time shut down in an endless abyss of not knowing what to do and not feeling capable of doing anything. I don't feel like I can concentrate on tv plots or something unless I'm doing something with my hands but colouring hurts my hand after a while because I hold my pen wrong and I can only draw in short bursts and I haven't been able to even try writing any fanfic. I need to to stuff with my hands. I painted a puzzle! I made a teacup shaped cardboard cat scratcher from old boxes and painted it. I crocheted from a pattern for the first time. I enjoyed all those tasks so much because they kept my hand busy and I had a task to focus on while getting to enjoy tv. But without a task like that all I have the capacity to do is sit in the feeling of being stuck or distract my self in scrolling through whatever app I can, normally cycling between Facebook, insta and Tumblr until I run out of things and then I go on tiktok until I'm video fried.

I've been online shopping too much and when that stuff arrives I'll be distracted with an activity for a bit. A couple days maybe. But then it's back to this. The stuck feeling. I don't want to be doing nothing but don't have the energy or the concentration or something whatever it is to push through my executive dysfunction and like, clean or go for a walk around the block or literally anything.

Doesn't help that my sleep schedule is waaayyyy off. And my appetite. Plus the executive dysfunction doesn't help when it comes to making dinner.

And the point to all of this was that I was sitting here at 1.30am, knowing I probably won't go to sleep for another few hours, feeling all these frustrations and the release of a good cry sounds so amazing. But I can't. I guess I really am shut down. It's the trauma✨

[bluedemon1995]

Stay True To Yourself!

I read a story about a girl whose boyfriend took her to a swingers party…but neglected to tell her! And of course, that story led me down a very strange rabbit hole until this popped in my head. Ummm, this one has a little bit of a more adult theme - so please read with caution! This is an alternate reality story- obv not canon.

Katie Holt sat in the car feeling a niggling sense of unease that she cannot dismiss as hard as she tries to shove it down. She tries to narrow down the cause, thinking and analyzing as is her nature. Is it because she hasn’t been dating Mark very long and he picked her up roughly an hour ago. In fact, if she was honest, this was probably the longest amount of time she’d actually spent in his actual company. Previously, it was mostly online chats then a couple of in person short lunch coffee dates. But they were maybe twenty minutes. Is it because they are going to a party and she typically does not enjoy parties? Or maybe it’s because he’s the only person she’d know from this party, and she hates being dependent on anyone. She’d much rather rely on herself.

Regardless of the cause, she tries to shake off the feelings and enjoy the moment. Live a little in the real world like Allura said as she was helping her getting ready. Actually, if she was honest, this was the second novel experience of the day since having a friend come over and help her get ready for a date was a first as well. Yesterday, when she absently mentioned that she could not go to the movies tonight because she was going to a Christmas party with Mark, Allura got so excited. She immediately made plans to go shopping and offered to come and help me get ready. She was honestly more excited than I was but it was nice to have someone care.

Which was nice because her mom and dad had a work Christmas party to go to and her brother was on a date himself. It was nice for Allura to come over and help her out. In spite of the make up, dress and dating tips, she had a good time. Allura was only a couple of actual years older than but in experience she was decades ahead of her!

This year, partly due to their project at work, she’s gotten closer to some of co-workers or team. It’s been a nice change since high school and college where she was mostly alone except for her family and their friends. She loved feeling like people got her sarcasm, her references well, just HER. It was nice to have people who made her stop working to eat lunch or heck, even remembered to check to see if she left work for the day. Slowly but surely her team had become her friends.

Which all leads her back to a few moments ago, when Mark parked and got out of the car, stopping at the hood to wait for her. He looks impatient but whatever, she needs to take a minute alone to get her self under control. Her nerves hit a high point but deciding this was as good as it gets, Pidge stands and walks to the him, impulsively reaching out and holding his hand. It was dark and snowy, she definitely did not want to fall on ice as they walked up! How embarrassing!

He seemed surprised by her hand but quickly pulled her close, “Hey so, this is a special party and I’d really appreciate it if you kept an open mind, think of it as an of it as an experiment.”

Pidge felt like a five alarm bell was suddenly going off at the conclusion of that sentence. FUCK! What was he talking about?!? Why would he say something like that now? It was akin to setting a bomb and saying, do not look at the timer.

While Pidge is having an internal panic attack they walk in-no knocking just walk straight in the door. She doesn’t see anything right off the bat that concerns her. There’s a table where keys were thrown, shoes piled in the front hall and music playing. It was a really nice house, set in one of the fancier subdivisions of the area. Pidge was trying to keep calm but she was annoyed that he’d state something like that as they were walking in the door! What about beforehand so she could of decided?!? And he really didn’t tell her anything, which is worse than knowing.

He takes his shoes off, she does the same. Hesitating, he turns and pulls her towards the kitchen. “Drink? What’s your poison?”

Pidge sighs, beer seems safe and not like she’s going to be drinking much of anything after that bomb he dropped walking in. “Beer is fine, I’d like light if they got it.”

He nods and goes towards the coolers lined up along the wall. Pidge does what she does best, fades into the background and observes the room carefully. The lights seem dim and she could see out the patio doors that more people are out there by the pool. She squints, maybe it’s the just the glare…but are those people naked?!?

Mark comes back at that time with a draft beer which means I won’t be taking a drink of it. Why wouldn’t he give me a bottle or can that I could open myself? I’m quiet and watch Mark take in the party. I wonder who he knows? Suddenly, I look at a pretty girl in a Mrs. Claus outfit who comes up to Mark. She smiles brightly, and proceeds to lock lips with Mark, wow. She’s actually impressive with her ability to wrap around him like a snake yet keep her hand with her drink still, not spilling a drop. I’m actually impressed! My eyes dart around the room, trying to gauge what the hell is going on here. Why would he bring me here if he already has girl???

Finally she breaks off and slides over to me, “Hi, Danni with an I, wanna make out?”

I blink, rapidly, “Um, no, I’m good, but, uh, thank you for the offer though.”

She smiles, “Okay! If you change your mind I’ll be around!”

She flounced away and I looked to Mark, quietly questioning, “Exactly what kind of Christmas party is this? Why am I even here?!?”

He chucked, “It’s a swingers party and you can’t come alone. You NEED to bring a date, you know for the numbers. C’mon, this will be fun.”

I look at him feeling myself turn red. “Wait a minute, I bought a fucking new outfit for this?!? I put goddamn makeup on! You fucking asshole! Look, I could give two shits about what you do, honestly, we aren’t involved like that but why involve me? Could you not find someone else to bring? For fuck’s sake!”

Mark stared at me, having the NERVE to arch a brow, “Cursing really? You know swearing is for people not intelligent enough to come up with a better word. Besides, don’t be a prude, look walk around and find someone you find interesting or hot. There are a lot of people here, like it’s not that hard.”

I close my eyes and as bad as I want to hit him, curse him out, I refrain. Oh, he will pay, just later when there aren’t about a hundred witnesses who can fill out a police report. I take a breath and walk away, back to the front door. I look at the keys, but they all look the same, how would I know which is which. I guess I could take them all but what if someone wants to leave. I step out to the front steps.

Honestly, this could not have happened on a worse night. I can’t call Matt, he’s finally on a date with his current dream girl and my parents at that work party. I close my eyes, take a breath to reign in my anxiety that is sky rocketing and first I try Allura. But, duh, she’s at the movies with Romelle and probably turned her phone off. Shit. My eyes fill with tears but I refuse to let them fall. I take a deep breath, trying Hunk instead another coworker. Straight to voicemail. Shit he might be sleeping.

I look at my contacts and realize, I don’t have a long list of people to call. I sit and sigh, okay no matter how embarrassing I could always get an Uber. I schedule one but because I’m so far it will take about an hour. I walk around to the back and sit on a chair in the dark corner of the backyard. Sitting, I let my finger hover over the last name to try. Here goes nothing. Hanging up I text a short message. What the hell do I have to lose at this point.

I sit. And sit. I don’t know how many girls and guys I rebuff but something about a person not wanting to hook up makes people want to hook up with you apparently. Jeesh, in my real life, no one wanted to date me now everyone was trying to have sex with me. WTF?

Sighing I look at my phone, and crap, it looks like all my surfing has killed my battery. Suddenly a very naked Mark and a different Mrs. Claus come up to me.

Mrs. Claus giggles out, “Hey if you’re nervous, you could totally hook up with my husband. He’s the hot elf over there, standing on the edge of the pool and hot tub. It will be fun! Then if we like, we could continue next week!!” She giggles a lot and I try not to be rude.

“Thank you for that kind offer, but I’m good.”

She shrugs, “Sure thing baby, but aren’t you bored. Marky said you were shy and um, a novice. Don’t be afraid.”

Mark turns and Pidge can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. Only for some guy in his boxers to edge into her space. “Darlin’, you-me-, it’s written in the stars baby.”

I groan, “Nope. You misread them, thank tho.”

Usually once I say no, they just move on. But nope, not this one. “Don’t be a prude. Sex is very natural. It’s elemental. It’s like essential. You need me baby!!”

Really, that’s his line? I shake my head no, but now we’ve got a crowd. I hear people interject how I’m falling into societies lanes and I must be a virgin because I’m sitting by myself. Then I hear people say I should be grateful and oh my gosh, yep, I’ve been transported back to high school. Except I’m not a self conscious kid anymore and I don’t give a fuck what they think about me. But, I’ll be damned if I don’t respond. No one pushes me or pressures me to do something I don’t want to. And I’ve never just gone with the crowd cuz it was easier, not then, not now.

I hear a roar and suddenly all attention is lost on me. I decided to leave before my temper actually erupts. I quickly move towards the gate to get the hell out of here. I’d rather walk home then stay here. Fuck Mark and his party. I might actually brainstorm with Allura and Romelle on a way to get back at him. Something embarrassing.

As I walk away I hear Mark yelling my name, “Katie! Katie! Don’t walk away! You need to expand your senses and life. Don’t be scared. There is so much I could teach you. Don’t be such a prude!”

Laughter.

Well fuck him. Now I’m pissed. I’m not scared. I just don’t want to do this. Yet, who does he think he is telling me what I should do. As if. And what if he did this to other girls, who weren’t able to say no? I turn around and calmly but loudly state, while looking straight at him, “Look, don’t act like I’m the scared one. Who didn’t tell me where they were taking me. If this was a scene I was into, fine. And believe me, I will sleep with whoever I want. I just don’t want to sleep with you nor do I have anything to prove to anyone. But if and when I see a guy or girl for that matter, that I’d like to fuck, then I would. So, shut up, cause Marky you’re just not it.”

I could hear murmurs and then Mark yelling, and his feet slapping on the ground. Ughhhhh. One thing I could be thankful for is seeing him naked, cuz ick. He has no muscle definition and oh my God, I cannot wait to tell Allura how he looks like he waxes cuz he has no hair anywhere on his body.

I turn to walk away and see a guy who I have HAD the luxury of day dreaming about striding towards me with an shit eating smirk. Well, shit, of course. My eyes closes but it doesn’t stop my from seeing him behind my eyes. His hair is slightly matted from his helmet which means the roar must have been his Harley. He has one of his many black t-shirts on with his favorite leather jacket over it. His jeans are well worn and faded not those designer ones that only look used. He has on his riding boots, which of course give him another inch or so of height. Which he loves. Opening my eyes I see him about 6 feet away and I see he still has his riding gloves on.

I determinedly walk towards him only to hear Mark scream, his feet slapping, or at least I hope it’s his feet. He yells, “Yeah right, you prude-like you would ever-“

I reach said hot guy and say, “I’m kissing you in two seconds. One, two.”

I fist my hand in his shirt and pull him closer to me. Except he doesn’t move, so I look up into his eyes and arch a brow, he arches his, which causes me to roll my eyes and I open my mouth to tell him to go to hell when grins. With his hands on my hips pulls me into his hard body, throwing me off balance. I slip my arms around him lift my head and his lips slam onto mine. Ok, point proven. Yet, as I lean back to break the kiss, I feel two arms encompass me, hold me close and reposition me.

His mouth re-angles on mine, I feel myself lifted on my tip toes. Omg, the heat of his body is amazing. I didn’t even realize I was cold sitting out here but against his body I felt like was next to a heater. His tongue pushes past my lips and, well, I stopped thinking for a full minute, hell maybe minutes. It was that good of a kiss. Shit. His tongue stroked mine, made me shiver and then he nipped my lip causing a groan. I literally could feel him smile and I was going to move back when his hand fisted in my hair and he started to kiss my neck and holy crap! I think my knees buckled but it didn’t matter because he picked me up and my legs were suddenly wrapped around his waist. His hands were supporting my weight but I think they were actually under my dress. My hands were in his hair and digging into his shoulder respectively. Well. Hell.

I don’t know how long that went on for when suddenly I hear Mark right next to us yelling, “That’s enough.”

Slowly pulling back, his gravelly voice questions, “Outta here or are we continuing the show? Just to be clear, I’m good with either decision.” He then arches that fucking brow.

Face flaming, I whisper, “Let’s go. Please.”

Eyes on me, he nods. “What’s asshole’s name?”

“Mark.”

Nodding he raises his voice, “Hey Mark, fuck off and if I ever see you again, you’re dead.”

A girl in just a string bikini bottom steps in front of us, drawing our attention. Her hand is gliding down her chest when she looks right at him, throatily murmuring, “Wanna upgrade?”

He laughs, “Um already did. Let’s go Pidge.”

He moves his hands and I lower my legs. He instantly laces his fingers with mine and pulls me to the path back to the front. “Keith! You can’t say that! You know about Mark being dead meat.”

“Just did.”

“Why, what, are you even doing here?”

As he places his helmet on my head and carefully tightens the straps, “I saw Shiro’s phone buzz, so I looked. It seemed like something that couldn’t wait. So here I am.”

Blinking I nod, “Okay. I said I had an Uber coming.”

“Saw, don’t care. I, um, didn’t like the idea of you being here when you didn’t want to be. So yeah, deal.”

“But why didn’t you respond?”

“I pinged your location to my phone and left. Didn’t think about it honestly.”

“What if I was gone?”

He shrugged as we approached his bike, which was on the lawn! “As long as you were safe.”

He then takes off his coat, slipping it around my shoulders, “Arms in, it’s cold when we start moving.” Eyes on her legs, fingers play with her skirt, brushing her thighs. “I can’t do anything about your legs though. Let me know if you need a break. We can stop as often as you need.”

I nod, and as we drive into the night, my arms tight around his waist, I can’t help but smile. Keith Fucking Kogane. Damn this boy can kiss. Maybe there is hope for my love life after all. I feel his hand cover my hand on his abdomen, squeeze and drift down to my leg. I squeeze him a little tighter and I know it’s just my imagination but I swear I can hear his laughter.

My hero.

[xxdearlybeloved]

Sweetheart

Modern!John x OC

A request from @twistedrunes​: Hello my darling, May I request number 28. “I have a name and it’s not sweetheart.” with John. Anytime in the modern era, but it made me think of a situation where the OC is an activist of some kind (perhaps a feminist in the 90's?). But really anything that takes your fancy. 😊

A/N: I usually do reader inserts, but this is in third person. What we have here is an alternate universe where John Shelby has a new neighbor. There is fluff angst and smut all in here.

She pulled onto the street, still learning to navigate her new neighborhood and the turns that led to her new house. She got out of her car, stretching and feeling the sun on her face. Her car was full of the last things from her old apartment. Piles of clothes and a few boxes.

Jo was used to being independent. She paid for her own school, had lived alone since she was 18, and had prided herself on being able to do most things on her own. It was how she was raised.

Now she was moving into her first house that she owned. She grabbed her keys and as much as she could carry with one arm. The house was small, but it was perfect because it was hers.  

John saw the car before he saw the new neighbor. He pulled into his driveway just as his new neighbor came outside, getting her last box from the car.  He didn’t really know the previous neighbors too well. A couple with a baby on the way had moved out only last week.

John parked his car, rolling his toothpick in his mouth as he watched her pull the box across the backseat of her car and take a deep breath. Clearly, she needed a hand and John figured it would be the neighborly thing to do.  

He couldn’t stop himself from walking towards her, surprised by how nervous he felt. She didn’t notice him at first, her upper body fully inside the car as she picked up items that fell out of her last box.  

“Oi, sweetheart. Need a hand?” he called, watching her emerge from the car and gracefully unfold before facing him. She didn’t say anything at first, running her eyes over this intruder who had the nerve to not only call her out of her name but also assume that she needed help.

Finally, she made eye contact. Her anger faltered a little as she felt herself falling into his baby blues. His eyes were confident, playful, but she couldn’t tell if he was completely harmless.  

She’d take the chance. “I have a name and it’s not sweetheart,” she said, her voice controlled as she kept her eyes locked on his.  

“What do they call you then, love?” John asked, a twinkle in his eye as he drew out the last word. She wasn’t annoyed but she was undeniably intrigued.  

“Jo,” she replied, pulling the hair tie from her curls and shaking them out before pulling them back again. John had to focus to keep his jaw closed as he watched her lift the box. Clearing his throat before offering again to lend a hand.

“I got it,” she said, throwing a wink over her shoulder as she carried the box inside.

-----

He must have been home because his car was, so she didn’t understand why it was taking him so long to come to the door. It was chillier out than she expected and she couldn’t wait for the warm comfort of her own home.  

Finally, he came to the door, towel draped around his waist as he peered at her. His face softened from annoyance as he took her in. “Jo,” he said. “Can I help you?”

“I just came to drop off your mail,” she said. “They delivered it to the wrong address”

“I’ve actually got something of yours, as well” he said, a sly smile on his face. “Come inside,” he stepped out of the way so that she could enter. She was hesitant at first, stepping across the threshold and almost melting at his scent as she passed by him.

He led her to the kitchen, taking a box off the counter that had clearly been opened before handing it to her. “I thought it was for me, didn’t read the name until I saw what was inside.” She couldn’t read the expression on his face, but as she peered into the box, she could have died in that very spot.

“So I take it you don’t have a man, then?” John’s expression was playful, but Jo could not make contact as she held the vibrator she had ordered in her hands. Why didn’t he just leave it at her door or something much less embarrassing for both of them.  

“I don’t need one,” she said, taking the toy out of the box and waving it at him. He laughed and that helped her relax, too.  

“I never said you needed one, love.” The look he was giving her made her heart stop. She definitely wasn’t cold anymore.  

“It’s Jo,” she said, clearing her throat. “Thank you for my package.”

“Anytime,” he replied, and she all but sprinted out of the door.  

------

Since she’d arrived, she’d been told that the best place for a Saturday night was The Garrison. It had taken months for the friends she’d made to get her there, but they finally did. She had to admit that it was fun, dressing up and letting her curls be free.  

She also couldn’t deny that she liked the attention. While she didn’t need a man, she would be lying to herself if she didn’t think that she missed the physical intimacy of another person.

Once inside, she understood why the place was so popular. The music was amazing, and she immediately lost herself with a guy who approached her on the dance floor. Usually, she would ignore them, content to dance alone without a stranger’s hands testing their boundaries on her body.

But tonight, she let just let it go.  

The guy was nice enough, so she let him buy her a drink, giving her friends the heads up that she would likely be leaving soon. She usually wasn’t fond of one-night stands, but it had been awhile since she’d felt properly touched by a man.  

She felt a hand on her arm and figured it was her beau, so she smiled at her friends and prepared to thank the guy for her drink. Instead she turned to find John.  

He looked down at her, an unreadable but amiable expression on his face. As she faced him, the slight inebriation did not stop her from smiling at him.

“You look beautiful, Jo” he said. John smiled at the look of surprise that came across her face. She knew where her mind wandered when placed her toy between her legs and she wondered if John could tell.  

She felt someone tap her on the shoulder and turned to find the guy she was originally expecting. He smiled at her, handing her the drink before looking at John.  

“Oh, Mr. Shelby, I didn’t mean to interrupt” Alan said, completely terrified. She looked at John in confusion, but he just looked at the other guy seemingly unbothered.

“You’re not interrupting, John is my neighbor,” she said, introducing the two. She sipped her drink while they made awkward small talk. Who knew silence could be so loud in a nightclub?

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” John said, squeezing her hand before walking away and disappearing into the crowd. She was confused not only by the interaction, but also by the small pang in her heart she felt when he walked away.

“So, John is your neighbor?” Alan asked. The question caused her to smile.  

-----

As she got out of the Uber the next morning, she paused on the sidewalk, looking up at John’s house. It was still early, but she found her feet leading her up the path to John’s house. Her heart raced as she rang the doorbell and the time seemed to slow down as she waited for him to come to the door.

She was just about to leave, scolding herself for being so foolish, when the door opened. There was a sleepy looking John, with a smile on his face that she couldn’t help but return.

He didn’t say anything as he stepped aside, letting her in.  

He closed and locked the door, following her to the kitchen. “Breakfast?” he asked, going to open the fridge and pull out some eggs.  

“You cook?” she asked in pretend shock.

“I’ve picked up a few things along the way,” he said, turning on the stove and pulling down bowls.  

Neither of them said anything as John got to work, scrambling eggs and making toast. Jo watched him, feeling strangely at peace. She couldn’t remember the last time that someone had cooked for her, especially not a guy.  

John turned to find her smiling. “What’s so funny?” he asked, setting a plate in front of her before joining her at the table.  

“Nothing,” she replied. “You didn’t have to do this, thank you.” Jo couldn’t help staring, trying to reconcile the John that Alan described with the John that sat in front of her now.  

Apparently, this man was a gangster from a family of gangsters. They owned the Garrison as well as a sports betting house that looked legitimate from her online search. As she glanced around his modest house, there weren’t signs of the insane amounts of money that Alan said they had.

John watched Jo look around as if she was searching for something, but decided not to point it out. She was still in her outfit from last night, but seemed well rested, which probably meant...

“Got a lot of sleep last night, then?” John asked, getting up to take the plates back to the kitchen. He laughed at the look of shock on Jo’s face.  

“Excuse me?”  

“I just thought, you look like you got plenty of sleep last night,” John shrugged, a coy look on his face. Jo felt embarrassed. She hadn’t had sex like she planned, losing the desire after delving into her online search of the Shelby brothers and falling asleep on Alan’s couch.

She woke up and found herself at John’s house without even really knowing why. But maybe she did know why, and just maybe she was embarrassed that clearly John knew why as well.  

She stood up, cursing herself for being a complete idiot, thanked John for breakfast and let herself out. She didn’t turn around when he called after her.

John ran his hands through his hair, wondering when he would stop completely fucking up every relationship he had. He didn’t even really know Jo and already he had scared her away. He finished the dishes, thinking back to the quiet silence they shared at breakfast. He thought about how beautiful she looked the night before, laughing with her friends.

He knew he didn’t have to work hard to find girls to take home. That much was simple. It was finding a girl that he wanted to have breakfast with that had become the challenge, and yet again he had managed to blow it all to hell.  

Jo stood in the shower, letting herself cry.  She had internalized her parent’s message of independence so much so that she was afraid she had never learned what it was like to have someone to depend on.

She toweled off, put on comfortable clothes, and found herself on her couch watching reality television. She decided to order food, not feeling very much like cooking or cleaning.  

The doorbell rang and she grabbed some cash for a tip.  

She opened the door to find a very attractive, put together John. He had returned from an afternoon at the shop and couldn’t stop himself from coming to her house once he saw the lights on.

They both stood there, the silence feeling like a physical force between them. Jo took a tentative step back, before moving out of the way to let John in. As Jo closed the door and faced John again, she could see the emotion behind his eyes.

She stepped closer to him, letting her thumb brush his cheek before stepping up to place a gentle kiss on his lips. Her heart was pounding, she was sure he could hear it, but it didn’t stop her.  

She stepped back, preparing to apologize for her actions, but John closed the distance again, kissing her harder. She should not have been surprised that he was such a great kisser. She felt his hands on her waist, running up her body so slowly it made her shudder.

“Do you want me to stop?” John whispered into her lips. She shook her head, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her body and lips into his. John continued to run his hands over her, loving the little sounds she made as he explored her body.

His hands were at her waistband and she froze. “I can stop,” John said. She felt him pressed up against her and wanted nothing more in that moment than to feel him inside her. She moved her hands to his pants, undoing the zipper and pulling him out before stroking him slowly and firmly.

“You don’t learn that from a toy,” John said and she smiled, bringing her lips back to his. John pulled her pants and panties down, helping her out of them before picking her up by her thighs. Jo was pressed against the wall, one arm wrapped around John as the other hand impatiently guided him inside her.

This wasn’t the standard fuck for John. This wasn’t a Shelby groupie trying to get bragging rights with her friends. He wanted Jo the feel good, each thrust intentional and measured. She was lost in the pleasure of it all. John’s firm hands digging into her thighs, his grunts in her ear.

Breathless, she asked him to go faster, and he obliged. John felt himself losing control, but he wanted to feel her come and he told her so.

It seemed like that was all she needed as she fell apart in his arms while John whispered encouragement in her ear. She felt John come inside her and they both stayed there panting, unmoving.

John placed soft kisses on her lips as he lowered her down. She led him to the bathroom, cleaning him off first before starting to take care of herself. They heard the doorbell and she laughed.

While John went downstairs to get the food, Jo wondered what would happen after he left. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted to happen.  

She went downstairs to find John setting out the food. The rest of the night passed with them on the couch, neither wanting the other to leave.

The next morning, Jo’s alarm woke them both from the couch. John’s sleepy face was becoming one of her new favorite things. He helped her throw away the containers from last night before preparing to go to his own house to shower and get to the shop.

Jo walked him to the door, feeling a small pang in her heart as she watched him step outside. Before she closed the door, John turned as if he had forgotten something.  

“Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?” John asked. She nodded. He took out his phone and handed it to her so that she could put in her number. She handed the phone back to him and he leaned in to kiss her.  

“See you tonight, sweetheart” John called behind him.  

Jo laughed as she closed the door.

[just-my-sickly-pride]

Debut || Roger Taylor x fem!Reader

summary || you’re twenty years old, a full-time uni student, and you’re living out of home. money is tight. so, naturally, you decide to sell your virginity to the highest bidder. when you get an offer from some guy in his mid-thirties, you put on your nicest dress and head on over. but there’s a problem: he has no idea who you are, or why you’ve turned up at his house at nine o’clock at night. maybe things aren’t going to be as simple as you’d hoped. modern day au.

rating || explicit, with fluff dotted throughout. 18+ only. do not read if you are under eighteen. the age gap between reader and roger is sixteen years.

word count || about 17.7k.

author’s notes || welcome one and all to my very first fic on this blog! i pictured roger circa ‘85 (specifically live aid) for this fic. this fic is also dedicated to my friend and fellow mid-thirties-Roger enthusiast Jennifer @mrfahrenhcit (i couldn’t find a way to work in everything you asked, but i’ve saved some of them for the next roger fic that’s in the works). fun fact: this is the first reader fic where i’ve used ‘Y/N’. some people have said they’d had issues with this post being extremely slow to load, or the app has crashed - i think it’s just bc it’s so long, and i apologise for the inconvenience.  [i am a proud member of the anti-cross-tagging club.]

masterlist

     You don’t think you’ve ever felt more nervous before in your entire life.  You’ve wiped your sweaty palms on your dress ten times in the past two minutes, and your heart hasn’t stopped racing from the moment you woke up this morning.

    What are you doing? Seriously, what the fuck are you doing?

    Well, that’s the thing. You know exactly what the fuck you’re doing.

    You aren’t doing it out of embarrassment, or anything to do with pride. You don’t feel pressured, not by anyone, not even by society, fuck society, but you saw some dumb article about it – it was hardly even an article, just gossip – and it gave you the idea, and then you were doing some research about it, just for the money, it’s just for the money, you’ve been living out of home for two years now and life’s still kicking you in the ass, so why wouldn’t you do it for money, if you could? And you can. So you went onto some website and snooped around to check for at least some sign of legitimacy, and then, well, you were making an account, and you made an account, and uploaded some photos that you never thought you’d upload to the Internet, and, a couple weeks later, you found out that someone had chosen you. Chosen you.

    And now here you are.

    On your way to a strange man’s house.

    To lose your virginity to him.

    Because he’s paid for it.

    Well, he’s paid half. The other half comes… after.

    And you’re not nervous about the actual sex part, you suppose, but more about the fact that you’re going to a stranger’s house for sex. Does that make you a sex worker? Could you call someone who played guitar in one gig and got paid for it, but never got paid for it again, a musician?

    Probably. But maybe that isn’t the best comparison.

    You don’t know much about this guy. Just his address, his name, his age – thirty-six, could be worse, to be fair – and that he’s obviously got plenty of cash to spare. And he’s definitely not the sort of guy you want to have around. Seeing as, y’know, he’s paid a twenty-year-old virgin to have sex with him.

    The Uber pulls up to a stop in front of a house. It’s dark outside, almost nine in the evening, so the house is hard to make out, but it’s quite a nice place, very white-picket-fence. Something out of a magazine catalogue about the suburbs. You thank your Uber driver and grab your oversized handbag, climbing out of the car.

    You close the door behind you.

    The Uber drives off.

    And you’re alone on the sidewalk.

    You hoist the handbag onto your shoulder. It’s got a couple of things you think you’ll need – condoms, lube, two change of clothes depending on what this guy is after. You think you look more than nice enough in your heels and tight, black dress, but just in case.

    You glance at your phone, double-checking the address. You send a quick message to your best friend Justine: at the house. will keep u updated.

    She’s the only one who knows; and she only knows because you figured that at least someone should know, if something goes wrong.

    Good God, you’re hoping nothing goes wrong. Not in that way. Not in any way, really.

    And again, you’re back to asking yourself what the fuck you’re doing.

    You take a deep breath, and start heading up the front path.

    Your hands are shaking by the time you reach the front step, but you force yourself to raise a fist and rap your knuckles on the door. The automatic porch light is yellow, and you can’t help but feel irked by how unflattering it is.

    You can hear movement inside the house. A part of you is searching for the sound of kids, although God forbid there’s any to be heard. But a guy like this… Well, your first conclusion is that he’s looking for an affair.

    You really don’t want to be some kind of mistress. But, you suppose, this is really just a business transaction, so you’re free of at least most of the guilt, right? All of it, if you actually have no idea if he’s married.

    Please don’t mention your wife, you pray. Don’t implicate me or whatever.

    Finally, the door opens, and you feel like you’re about to throw up your heart onto your feet. But you push it down, and drink in the man in front of you.

    If you weren’t sure before if he was a dad, now it’s unmistakable. He’s slim, and reasonably tall – not remarkably so, but still tall – and he’s dressed in loose jeans and a blue flannel that he has rolled up to his elbows. His hair is blond, sort of shaggy, sort of spiky, like he spends his time running his hands through it. You idly wonder what it’d feel like in your hands. Guess you’ll find out soon enough.

    But the thing that really knocks your socks off is the big blue eyes that blink at you, framed by eyelashes that you’d kill to have yourself. Those eyes flash down to your outfit, and then back up at your face.

    Okay. Maybe this whole thing won’t be that bad at all.

    You give him your most winning smile. “Hi,” you say in a way that you hope is both alluring and professional.

    He blinks at you again. “Hi,” he says, his eyes wide. His gaze flits up and down your body, like he’s trying to compute what he’s seeing in front of him. “Um, hello. What, uh– Can I help you?”

    His voice is soft, softer than you were expecting. Gentle, almost.

    You lick your lips and shift your feet. “I’m, ah, Mandy. Are you Roger? Taylor?” Your name is fake, of course. You’re not sure about his. Not that it matters.

    “Yes, that’s me,” Roger says. He scratches the back of his head. “Uh, I’m sorry, you’re, um, lovely, but I don’t think I know you.”

    Huh. Odd. Is this a foreplay thing? “We have an appointment. You booked me two weeks ago, and you gave me this date and this time,” you prompt unsurely.

    Roger’s brow crumples. “An… appointment?”

    You feel your face starting to heat up. You almost ask if you have the right address, but no, you already know that he’s Roger Taylor, he’s the one who booked, so you must have it right. “Yeah,” you say. “You, um…” You lower your voice a touch. “You already paid in advance. This is pretty much a done deal, but I’m just here to fulfil my end of the bargain. And then, of course, you’ll have to pay me the other half.”

    Roger’s starting to look a little pale now, and you’re not quite sure what to do with that. His eyes dart down to your outfit and back up to your face. “Pay you?” he says. “I’ve– what? I’ve paid you? What did I pay you? When?”

    Now you’re both embarrassed, and confused, and well, this isn’t something you’d pictured going wrong.

    You suddenly feel very exposed in your tight dress and heels.

    “Uh.” You scratch behind your ear. “Like, I don’t know what to tell you. You’ve booked me, and I’m here. And it wasn’t a small sum of money, so I doubt you’d want to…”

    Roger’s mouth opens, and then closes, and opens again. “Oh, shit, hang on,” he says, his voice flat, “did I… Was this all booked and arranged two weeks ago on the Friday night?”

    “Yes,” you say. “Why?”

    Roger sighs heavily, and rubs his eyes. “Oh, shit,” he moans. “For God’s…” He raises his head, and sighs again. “Look, um, Mandy, there’s been a big misunderstanding. I, um, went through a divorce, er, relatively recently, a few months ago, and I’ve been doing a bit of wallowing, I guess you could say, and my friends tried to cheer me up a fortnight ago on Friday by bringing round a few bottles of very nice whiskey and gin. I don’t remember a lot of that night, but, now that you mention it, I have some vague memory of my friends trying to get me to, you know, ‘move on’, and, um, I think they might have looked up… people online.”

    Your ears are really burning now. “Oh,” you say.

    “That’s what this is, isn’t it?” Roger adds. “You’re a…”

    “Not really,” you blurt. “Kind of. It– oh, man.” You bite your bottom lip, hesitating, not quite sure how much to reveal about the situation. “Okay, I’ll be honest. Yes, I’m… from a website. But I’m not – this isn’t a living, or a side gig, or whatever. Not that it would matter if I was, because there’s nothing wrong with…” You shake your head. Stay on track. “It’s just a one-off. You paid me to… to take my virginity.”

    You swear you can see Roger’s soul leaving his body in that moment. “You– I what?”

    You shrug helplessly.

    Roger takes a step back, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “Jesus Christ.”

    “I’m sorry for the confusion,” you say, and your stomach sinks further when a realisation comes to you. “I…” You swallow. Your mouth is dry. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t – The money you gave me. I’ve done this to help pay bills and rent and everything, and it’s already been used. A chunk of it, anyway. I can’t refund you. I’m really sorry.”

    “No, God, don’t apologise,” Roger says. “You weren’t to know.” He shakes his head. “Fucking dickheads, the lot of them.” He looks to you, and warily inspects your face. “How old did you say you were?” His voice is small, like he’s scared of the answer.

    “Twenty,” you reply, and his shoulders sag in relief.

    “Thank God,” he says. “I mean, still, you’re so young, but at least you’re…”

    “An adult?”

    He nods, grimacing sheepishly. “I really am being honest when I say I don’t remember much of that night. My mates aren’t those sorts of people, but, well, who knows what they’d try to pull when they’re pissed.”

    “No, it’s fine,” you say. “I look young for my age. But I am twenty.”

    “No, I believe you,” Roger says quickly. “I’m not… No.”

    You wipe your palms on your dress again. What now? Do you just go home? That wasn’t the cheapest Uber ride you’ve ever had. You were kind of relying on that extra money.

    Roger seems equally at loss. “You– Did you have to travel far?”

    “Not that far,” you say. “Forty minutes-ish.”

    “Fuck,” Roger says. He puts his hands on his hips, and then drops them again. “What time is it? It’s nearly nine, isn’t it?”

    “Yeah, about nine.”

    “It’s late. You should be getting home.”

    Your heart sinks. Wow. Okay. This is really just over like that. “Um, yeah, I guess,” you say. You take half a step back. “I’m really sorry about the– the, um, whole mix-up thing. And sorry about your divorce.”

    Great. Real smooth.

    “Thanks,” Roger says. He hesitates, and you’re about to turn and head back down the driveway, when he says, “How are you getting home? Did you drive?”

    “Uh, no,” you say. “Uber.”

    “Uber? God, no, sod that,” Roger says. “Let me…” He fumbles for something in his back pocket, but comes up empty. “Let me pay for it. I don’t– Can I pay you for it?”

    “It’s all right,” you reassure him. “You’ve already given me– it’s okay.”

    “No, please, I insist,” he says. “Should I– cash? I can give you cash. Or… transfer…” He rolls his eyes at himself, those pretty blue eyes that shouldn’t belong to a man his age, but somehow suit him perfectly. “God,” he mutters. “I usually have things more together than this, I promise. I’ve just been caught beyond off-guard.”

    “Sorry,” you say again.

    “It’s not your fault, really, I don’t– How could I blame you? You had no idea. I am going to murder my friends.” He sighs, rubbing his temple. “Um. Okay. I’ve paid you before, haven’t I, if you got the deposit? How did I do it? I can just do it that way again.”

    “You transferred it to me,” you say. You shift in your heels. Your feet are starting to ache.

    “Let’s do it that way again, then,” Roger says. “I’ll just get my phone, sorry.”

    “It’s okay, really,” you say yet again, stopping him. “Don’t bother. I’ll– It’ll take me two minutes and then I can be on my way home.”

    Roger hovers, and then says, “Can I– Did you want to wait inside? Or out on the steps? Could I get you some water, at least?”

    You hesitate. “Um–”

    “I’m not trying to do anything,” Roger blurts, and then he shakes his head. “Now it sounds like I am trying to do something. I’m not. Really. If you want, you can just wait here and I’ll go inside and leave you alone.”

    You glance at your phone. You haven’t ordered the Uber yet, but you are pretty thirsty. You look back up to Roger. “Well, I already had it in my head that I was coming here to sleep with you, so I’m not really concerned about you trying anything,” you say. “Some water sounds nice, actually.”

    Roger laughs. Like his voice, it’s unexpectedly soft, and it makes you smile.

    “Um. Yes,” he says, glancing at his feet. “Well. Um, come on in, then.”

    You head back up the path, and Roger steps aside to let you in.

    You slip past him. He smells good.

    His house, on the inside, is just as white-picket-fence as it is on the outside. Not the tidiest, but you suppose he wasn’t expecting company.

    He seems to notice the slight mess the same moment you do, and he hurriedly darts forward to tidy up.

    “Sorry,” he says.

    “No, don’t worry about it,” you say.

    He bends down to grab an empty beer bottle from where it sits on the floor next to the couch. Nice ass.

    Not that it matters. You aren’t sleeping with him anymore. But, to be fair, you are only human. Just because you’re no longer ordering doesn’t mean you can’t admire the menu.

    “I, uh, wasn’t expecting any guests, obviously,” Roger adds, half-jokingly.

    You chuckle, and adjust your dress. Roger’s eyes flash down to your hands, then to your chest where you’ve pulled the dress down a little further in your adjustment, and then he quickly looks away, running his hand along his jaw.

    “Uh, um,” he says. “Water? Um– take a seat, by the way. Feel free to sit…” He gestures vaguely around him. “Sit anywhere. Anywhere you like.”

    “Um, okay,” you say, and hesitate, before awkwardly perching on his couch.

    “Sorry, did you say you wanted water?” Roger says.

    “If you wouldn’t mind,” you say.

    “Yeah, of course,” Roger says, and then disappears into the kitchen.

    You breathe in a lungful of air and slowly let it out. Wow. Talk about an unexpected evening.

    You take out your phone and message Justine. boy do I have a story to tell u.

    She’s online, and she replies immediately. fuck what’s happened?? everything alright??

    You bite your lip, considering how to reply. yeah I’m fine. the guy is super easy on the eyes, but there’s been a mix up and basically I am remaining firmly in the virgin zone for the foreseeable future lol.

    You backspace and try again. yeah I’m fine. long story short I’m coming home. tell u about it when I get there.

    is he ugly?? Justine replies, and you can’t help but smile in amusement.

    oh no, that’s not the issue even a little bit, you reply.

    “I’m assuming tap water is fine?” Roger says, reappearing with a glass of water, making you jump slightly and flip your phone face-down on your leg, as if he could somehow see the screen from across the room. “Sorry, I should’ve asked. I don’t really have anything else.”

    “No, no, tap water is fine, thank you,” you say, and he hands the glass to you.

    You take a sip.

    Roger glances away, seemingly looking for something to do or something to say, as if the answer is written in the walls. He chews on his thumbnail.

    Your mind scrambles to find something to say, but it feels like trying to eat soup with a fork.

    “Is everything all right?” Roger asks suddenly, looking to you. “I know this is probably completely inappropriate, but… Well, paying for someone to…”

    Your stomach sinks with embarrassment. “Oh,” you say. “Um. Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine. Just – could do with the money.”

    “Of course, yeah,” Roger says hurriedly, nodding. “You’re at uni?”

    “Yeah. And living out of home, so.”

    “Right. Yeah, of course, I should’ve guessed. Sorry, that was…”

    “No, it’s fine,” you say with a reassuring smile. You chuckle. “I’m sorry for disrupting your evening like this.”

    “No, no, it…” Roger smiles, and you feel every trace of oxygen leave your lungs, because wow, he’s attractive. “It’s a welcomed interruption, actually.”

    “It is?”

    “Well, all I had planned was to watch something shit on Netflix and drink beer,” Roger says, screwing up his nose. “Not exactly exciting.”

    “Oh, don’t let me stop you,” you say. “Sounds like they were big plans.”

    Roger laughs, and your heart thuds against your ribcage. “The sort of plans that sound much nicer when you have company, I think.” He pauses. “Not that– not that I’m expecting you to–” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Really, I’m not usually this… awkward.”

    “You don’t have to apologise,” you say, shaking your head.

    “I used to be a real ladies’ man, you know,” Roger says. “Back in the day. Before my wi– my ex-wife. And the kids.”

    “Sure,” you say, drawling sarcastically.

    Roger laughs again, a little surprised, but amused. “I was!” he insists. “I was picking up women left and right.”

    “I believe you,” you say lightly.

    Roger grins, and you have to take a steadying breath. “You’ve got a tongue on you, haven’t you?” he says delightedly.

    “So it’s been said.”

    It comes out more suggestive than you’d intended. Roger takes a moment to drink you in, and then he bites his bottom lip, looking away, one hand sliding into the back pocket of his jeans, the other one slipping under his shirt, massaging his shoulder.

    Your stomach flips and jumps. You take a sip of water.

    “You sure you’ve never been with anyone before?” Roger says.

    You snort. “That’s a pretty rude question, don’t you think?”

    Roger smiles sheepishly. “You’re right. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

    You take another sip of water, and then say, “I haven’t slept with anyone, no. I think I’d know if I had.”

    “Right,” Roger says mildly, nodding.

    You narrow your eyes at him. “What?”

    “Nothing, I didn’t say anything.”

    “You’re thinking very loudly. Is there something wrong with me not having slept with anyone?”

    “No,” Roger says, his eyes widening. “No, shit, that’s not what I was trying to say. It– you just seem… I’m just surprised. That someone like you…”

    You adjust your dress again. Roger’s eyes drop to your breasts again, and back up to your face. “What do you mean by that?” you ask, trying not to preen.

    Roger ponders over his answer for a while. “You just seem to… know what you want.”

    “Oh, you think so?”

    “Yeah,” Roger says noncommittally.

    His eyes find yours, and they stay there. Your heart is racing in your chest now, making your blood feel warm. You’ve been attracted to plenty of people before, but this is really something else.

    Roger clears his throat, breaking away, and you surreptitiously squeeze your thighs together.

    Your phone buzzes on your thigh. It’s Justine. so he’s hot?

    “Is that your Uber?” Roger asks. If you aren’t mistaken, he sounds almost disappointed.

    Your cheeks grow hot. “Oh, um, I haven’t actually… I forgot to call it.”

    “Oh,” Roger says. A tinge of relief? “Well, no rush.”

    “It’s just my friend checking up on me,” you add.

    “That’s good of them.”

    “Yeah. Well, actually, she was checking up on me before. Now she’s just–” You open and close your mouth a few times, but decide to be honest. “Uh, she’s just, um, asking about you.”

    Roger quirks an eyebrow, and it’s so hot that you have to look away. “About me?”

    Your phone buzzes again. are you on ur way home now?

    “Uh,” you say, and quickly type out, not yet.

    “What have you told her?” Roger asks, playfully curious.

    You put your phone down, and take a breath, smoothing your hands down your legs, thinking carefully of how to answer. “Just that you seem nice.”

    “Nice?” Roger says.

    “And you’re… Well.” You smirk. “I’m sure you’ve seen yourself in the mirror. No point in boosting your ego too much.”

    Roger steps forward, drawn to you by an invisible string. “I don’t think I understand,” he says faux-innocently.

    “I’m sorry, weren’t you just saying a minute ago that you were pulling girls left and right?” you say, cocking your head.

    “Oh, yeah, when I was twenty,” Roger says. “Not talking about now.”

    “Have you tried?”

    Roger pauses, slightly taken aback by this, and his eyes roll to the ceiling as he thinks, blowing hair out of his cheeks. “You may have a point there.”

    “And I suppose that’s why these friends of yours contacted me?”

    “You… may have a point there,” Roger says again.

    You nod to yourself. “I don’t see why they couldn’t have just taken you to a pub and set you up with someone there. It’d have been a lot cheaper.”

    “They’ve, um…” Roger cards his hand through his hair. “They’ve tried that, actually.” He hesitates, and then walks over to you, sitting down on the armchair near you. “They’ve taken me out a couple of times.”

    “And you’ve struck out?” you ask.

    Roger chuckles. “No. I – well, like you said, I suppose I haven’t really tried. I didn’t want to.”

    “Too soon?”

    “No, it’s not that. It’s…” Roger pulls a face. “I don’t know. Haven’t felt like it, really. Maybe it was too soon. Or maybe the thought of having to try to chat someone up just seemed like so much effort.”

    “Surely it wouldn’t be much effort for you.”

    Roger meets your eyes again, and he smiles slowly, running his tongue along his teeth. “Oh yeah?”

    Your phone vibrates. The way Roger’s looking at you makes you wish it was something else vibrating that you could put to good use alone in your room.

    Roger’s eyes flick down to the phone, and back up to your face. “That your friend again?”

    You hesitate, and then flip the phone over. hellooooo????? wtf is going on????

    “Yeah,” you say, and put the phone down beside you.

    “You going to answer it?”

    “In a minute.”

    You smooth your hands down your thighs. Roger watches like a hawk.

    Your hands slide back up your thighs.

    He swallows.

    You smile.

    “You, um, you ever…” Roger tears his eyes away from your thighs to look at your face. “Have– have you ever had a boyfriend? Or girlfriend?”

    “Yeah,” you say casually. “Not for a long while, though. And nothing too serious. Nothing as full-on as marriage.”

    Roger laughs, but it comes out sounding a bit strangled. “Yeah. That’s all right, though. That doesn’t matter.”

    Your phone buzzes.

    You ignore it.

    “I never got around to… all of that,” you explain. “Y’know. Fucking.”

    Roger’s face goes slack. “Uh–”

    “I wasn’t waiting for anyone special,” you continue. Your blood feels electrified under his gaze. “Just never quite got there.”

    “Never quite–?”

    You hum. “That’s misleading. I’ve made out with plenty of people, but that’s all. Some over-the-clothes action. Basically nothing, really.”

    Roger looks like he’s struggling to breathe. “Uh-huh.”

    “You probably find that hard to imagine,” you say with a wry smile. “Having kids and all. How old were you your first time?”

    Roger blinks, and takes a moment to reply. “Uh, I was sixteen.”

    You laugh. “God, I can’t even picture…” You frown, and shake your head. “It’s hard to picture what it’d be like, you know? The reality of it? You can watch as much porn as you like – and I’ve watched plenty, mind you – but, like, I know that it’s not real. Not realistic, anyway. I’ve spent what feels like ages just trying to picture what is actually is like, but it’s impossible for me to know.”

    “It’s good,” Roger says, and it comes out in a rush, and he looks surprised at himself.

    You feel a thrill go through you. “Good?”

    “Yeah,” Roger says. “Everyone says your first time isn’t good, but that’s only if your partner doesn’t know what they’re doing. And it’s nice when you have an idea of what you’re doing, too, but that comes with time. And if you have a good teacher.” He rakes his hand through his hair again. “But when the chemistry is right, and the mood is right, it’s… good.”

    “That’s descriptive,” you murmur sarcastically.

    Roger huffs a laugh. “What do you want, a detailed explanation? Graphs and illustrations?”

    “A demonstration would be nice.”

    Shit. Oh, shit. Shit shit shit. Why the fuck did you say that?

    Your eyes are wide, and you open and close your mouth a few times. “Uh.” Roger looks as surprised as you feel. “Oh,” he says. “Um. Wow. Is– is this part of the…”

    You blink. “Part of the…?”

    “The whole…” He gestures vaguely. “…thing. You being paid to…”

    “Did I just make a complete idiot of myself as part of my attempt to woo you as a kind-of sex worker?” you ask. You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Nope. No. That was all me. Just being a dumbass.” You groan, covering your face. “I’m sorry,” you say from behind your hands. “This is so embarrassing.” This whole night has been nothing but a huge embarrassment. You can’t wait to go home and forget about it, thanks to an unhealthy dose of alcohol.

    “I’m sorry,” Roger says.

    You lower your hands. “For what?”

    “For – I don’t know. I just felt I needed to apologise.”

    You snort. “You don’t have to apologise for me very clumsily and awkwardly and horribly trying to flirt with you, Roger.” You roll your eyes at yourself. “You’re probably used to seeing that all the time.”

    “Again, not for a very long time,” Roger says. “But I know what horrible and awkward flirting looks like, and… that wasn’t it.”

    “But clumsy, though, right?” you say, screwing up your nose.

    Roger chuckles. “Maybe. But that’s all right.” He shifts in his seat. “I was just as clumsy.”

    You wave a hand, and reach for your phone. It’s high time you called your Uber. And reply to Justine. “You weren’t flirting with me.”

    You re-read the messages from Justine you’re yet to reply to.

    so hes hot?

    are you on ur way home now?

    hellooooo????? wtf is going on????

    Then the new one, from a few minutes ago: for the love of god can u please reply to me. something. anything. I’ll take a solid thumbs-up.

    So you send a thumbs-up.

    When you look up, Roger is staring at you, and you realise he hasn’t spoken since you did.

    You’ve well and truly crossed a line somewhere. You can’t blame him for wanting you out. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m just – my friend. I’ll get the Uber now. Sorry it’s taken me so long.”

    “Don’t,” Roger says.

    You pause. “Don’t what?”

    “Don’t order the Uber.”

    Your stomach bubbles. “Wh– No?”

    “Not yet, at least,” Roger says. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You think I wasn’t flirting with you?”

    “Why would you be?” you respond automatically.

    “Why would…” Roger shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

    “Because I’m a random twenty-year-old woman who’s just shown up at your door on a Tuesday night dressed like this talking about how you paid to take my virginity,” you say bluntly. “Which is more than a little off-putting.”

    “Well, all right, I’ll give you that,” Roger says. “But here I am, still trying to clumsily flirt with you nonetheless.”

    You break out into a smile, a bashful one, and duck your head. “Oh.”

    “Oh,” Roger repeats, a touch playfully.

    You glance up at him. He’s smiling at you, pleased with your reaction, and the thought of kissing him flashes through your mind, and you’ve suddenly never wanted anything more. You purse your lips, looking at your hands again, fiddling with your phone, flipping it around and around in your grip.

    “Mandy,” he says gently, and you’re puzzled for a moment before you remember –

    “That’s, um, not my real name,” you tell him with an awkward chuckle. But you really like how he said it all the same.

    Roger looks so embarrassed that you can’t help but laugh. “Here I was, trying to be all suave, and now I look like an idiot,” he says.

    You shake your head. “You don’t. You didn’t know.”

    “I should’ve guessed you weren’t using your real name.”

    “No, it’s fine,” you giggle.

    “Well, am I allowed to know your real name? So I can try again?”

    You hesitate.

    “Unless you don’t want to,” Roger says quickly. “That’s fine. Security, and all. Stranger danger.”

     You laugh again. “Stranger danger? I’m in your house.”

    “I could be a stalker. You don’t know that.”

    Fuck, you’re attracted to him. “Dork,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

    Roger chuckles, his eyes sparkling.

    “It’s [Y/N],” you add.

    “[Y/N],” he repeats, and your breath catches ever so slightly. He pauses, and then comes to sit beside you on the couch, and holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, [Y/N],” he says. “I’m Roger.”

    You giggle, and take his hand, shaking it. “Nice to meet you, Roger.”

    He’s so close now. He smells amazing, and his hand is warm, and his eyes are so blue, and his lips–

    You realise you’ve been staring at his mouth, your hand still in his, and you glance back up at his eyes before quickly taking your hand back, looking away.

    You tuck your hair behind your ear, clearing your throat. You’re barely aware of your own body – only his, and how close it is to yours. Like there’s a force between the two of you, connecting you. When he swallows and moves his hand back to his own lap, you can feel it as if it’s your own.

    “Do you, um…” Roger takes a breath in, and you feel your chest, your lungs, buzz. “Tell me about yourself a bit.”

    “Me?” you say, looking to him. Oh, wow, he really is close. Fucking hell, you want him.

    “Yeah,” he says, smiling. “What do you do for fun? Stuff like that?”

    You lick your lips, and his eyes dart to the movement. “Um, well, I…” You absentmindedly adjust your dress, and it catches his eye again. “I’m at uni, in my second year. It’s all right. Pretty stressful, obviously, but I like it well enough. I live with two of my friends. I, um… I like… dogs.”

    Roger laughs.

    This is so stupid, you realise. You both clearly want each other.

    You shake your head. “Stupid,” you mutter.

    Roger frowns. “What’s stupid?”

    “This,” you say. You gesture between the two of you for emphasis. “This.”

    “Oh,” Roger says. He shifts away from you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

    You huff. “You’re not.”

    “Then what–”

    “Kiss me,” you cut in.

    Roger stops. “Kiss you?”

    “Yes,” you say, keeping your gaze steady on his. “You’re too damn difficult to resist. So kiss me.”

    Roger hesitates.

    You raise your eyebrows. “Unless you don’t want to?”

    “No, I – I do,” he says. “I just…”

    “What?”

    “I feel like the circumstances… I don’t want you to think I’m just doing this because I’ve paid you to…”

    “I don’t think that,” you say. “And I don’t want your money; this is way beyond that now. I’m not trying to trick you into sleeping with me so I can force you to pay me. I just know chemistry when I see it.”

    Roger chuckles. “I was right,” he says. “You know exactly what you want.”

    You steel your nerves. “Yeah,” you say with a shrug of your shoulders. “And I want you.”

    Roger swallows. “But you don’t even know me.”

    “Nope.”

    “And you’re in my house.”

    “Yep.”

    “And I’m so much older than you.”

    “That’s right.”

    “And you’re…”

    “I’m a virgin,” you finish, nodding. “I know. But for the love of God, Roger, if you don’t kiss me right now, I’m going to scream.”

    Roger exhales, shakes his head minutely, and then says, “God fucking damn it,” and leans in to kiss you.

    You immediately shift to press closer towards him, one hand coming to rest against his chest. He kisses you earnestly, but gently, like he’s nervous. Nervous about making you feel pressured, you can safely assume.

    But that’s not what you’re about. You pull back, and, before he can say anything, you climb on top of him, straddling his waist, and kiss him again, more deeply than before. He breaks away just far enough to whisper, “Holy shit,” and then ducks his head to kiss down your throat. You tilt your head to give him more room, one hand against his chest and the other raking through his hair. His hands, rough and warm, smooth up your thighs, and your breath catches. They stop just under the hem of the dress, and a soft whine slips from your throat.

    Roger moans in response. “Jesus Christ.”

    You reach down and grab at his wrists, urging his hands to go further up the dress. “Touch me,” you pant.

    He draws back, and you look down at him, at his slightly flushed cheeks and his ruffled hair, and you want him naked, right now. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says. “We can just make out, that’s absolutely fine. Just because of… the whole… arrangement…”

    “Roger,” you say slowly, “I’m only going to say this once, because I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

    He nods, swallowing.

    You cup his face in your hands, boring your eyes into his. “I want you to fuck me. Tonight. Right now.”

    Roger takes a shaky breath. “Are you–”

    “What did I just say?” you cut in. “Not repeating it.”

    Roger smiles, laughing breathlessly. “Bloody hell.”

    You smirk. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

    “Oh, it most certainly is one, believe me.”

     You lean in to kiss him, and his hands, thank the Lord, slide further up your thighs. You start unbuttoning his shirt, blindly, fumbling a little, and your kisses grow more eager.

    You’ve kissed a number of people in your time. Not a whole lot, but a few. And Roger really takes the damn cake.

    When his shirt is fully unbuttoned, untucked from his jeans, you move your lips down his neck, and he moans, letting his head roll back, his hands shifting to grab your ass, pulling you against him. You can feel the tent in his jeans, and, beyond thrilled, you grind against it, loving how a bolt of arousal shoots through you. Roger’s grip on you tightens, and when you nip at his skin, he spits out, “Fuck.”

    You rock your hips against him again, and he laughs again. “God, it’s been too long.”

    You hum, nipping his throat again and soothing it with your tongue. “How long is too long?”

    “Months. Lost count. Ah, fuck.”

    You pull back, giving him a look, and he lifts his head to meet your eyes. “Try twenty years,” you say dryly.

    Roger shakes his head. “Can’t even imagine.” He kisses you, just once, and then murmurs against your lips, “I promise I’ll make this good for you.”

    You shiver. “I’m sure you will.”

    “I mean it.” He kisses you again, and then sits back, his hands sliding back to your thighs and squeezing them gently. “I want this to be good for you. If I’m going to be your first, I want you to enjoy it. So you have to tell me if I’m doing something you don’t like, yeah?”

    You nod. “Yeah.”

    “I don’t care what it is we’re doing – you can tell me to stop at literally any point, and I will, no questions asked.”

    You nod. “I know, I know.”

    Roger chuckles. “You just really want to get things going, don’t you?”

    “Yes.” You press your lips to his, and, now that you both know where things lie between you, you’re both eager to get to the next step. The kisses quickly become more feverish, hotter, deeper. Roger’s hands go to the back of your dress, working the zipper down your spine, and you shudder at the feeling of it. When he’s done, you sit back to yank it over your head, dropping it the floor behind you.

    Roger’s eyes drink you in, his mouth hanging open. “Whoa.”

    You flush under his gaze. You know you look good – you’d worn your push-up bra and matching lace underwear for a reason – but it’s still a rush to get a reaction like that.

    “Bedroom?” Roger says, his voice a touch weak, and you nod, leaning in to steal one last kiss before climbing off him, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. He groans slightly as he does so, and you giggle.

    “I know, I know, I’m old,” he says.

    “No, I like it,” you say, tugging him closer to you and hooking a finger of your other hand through a belt loop on his jeans. “Dad noises.”

    Roger shakes his head, his hands coming to rest on your waist, and you lean into the touch. “Don’t say that,” he grumbles. “Makes me feel even older.”

    “You’re not old,” you say, rolling your eyes. “You’re not even forty.”

    Roger laughs. “Ah, yes, a real spring chicken.”

    “Can you stop whining and fuck me already? I’m gonna be forty by the time we get to it.”

    Roger snorts. “Cheeky.” He leans in to kiss you, and you curl your arms around his neck, pressing into him.

    When you break apart, you take Roger’s hand again, and he leads you to his bedroom, both of you stumbling slightly in the dark house. You’re only in your underwear, but you’re still wearing your heels, and you feel like you’re in some kind of Victoria Secret ad.

    Roger keeps glancing back at you, his eyes sweeping your body, and he’s so distracted he almost runs into a wall at one point, and you have to tug on his arm to pull him out of the way, laughing as you do so. He retaliates by pushing you up against the wall and kissing you senseless, his thigh slotted between yours. You’re lightheaded and unbelievably turned on by the time he breaks away again, and it feels like a lifetime before you reach his bedroom. 

    Roger switches on the light.

    The double bed is unmade, but the room itself is fairly tidy, just a pair of shoes and a shirt on the floor. The whole room screams tax-paying adult, and you’re reminded again that the man you’re about to sleep with is, in fact, a proper adult. Not like you, an adult by the loosest terms imaginable, but a fully-grown man with children and a mortgage and a career, probably. A completely different world to yours.

    But none of that will matter when you’re both naked. 

    He closes the door behind him, and then you’re pouncing on him, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and all but tearing his belt off. His hands are tight on your hips, and when you undo his belt and the button and fly on his jeans, he pants, “Bed, bed, go sit on the bed.”

    You do as you’re told, sitting on the edge of the bed and crossing one knee over the other, taking the opportunity to quickly tie your hair back out of your face while and Roger fumbles with the rest of his clothes, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks and jeans. You can tell that he would’ve been thin as a twig back in the day, and you’d easily call him slender even now, but his body is soft, the sign of a father who’s spent more time taking care of the kids and having a beer in the evenings to wind down than going to the gym. It suits him, looks good on him. You’re certainly a big fan.

    Soon, he’s down to nothing but his boxer-briefs. His boxer-briefs, which are neon green.

    You break out into a grin, and Roger looks down at them, sighing. “Of all the fucking pairs I could’ve put on today,” he mutters.

    “They’re pretty great,” you say, and you make sure you have Roger’s full attention before you uncross your legs, spreading your knees wide, leaning back on your hands, “but I’m more interested in what’s underneath them.”

    From the look on Roger’s face, you’d guess his legs are about to give out from under him. “You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he huffs, and he hurries over.

    Grinning, you scramble backwards on the bed, lying down, and he crawls after you, over you, and his kiss is bruising.

    Your hands are shaking now – with excitement and with nerves, a lot of nerves – but you ignore that, and worm your fingers inside his underwear, wrapping your hand around him and giving him a tug.

    He jerks, and you have a moment of panic where you think you’ve done the wrong thing, but then he kisses you with more fervour, so you do it again. This time, his hand finds yours, gently guiding you away.

    “Did I do something wrong?” you ask.

    Roger looks confused for a moment, and then says, “God, no. I just don’t want to get too worked up before we get to, y’know, the main event.”

    “Oh,” you say, smiling in relief.

    “You really have no experience at all, do you?” Roger says, sounding almost disbelieving.

    “That’s what I’ve been saying,” you say. “It hasn’t all been some elaborate ruse to get into your pants. Literally all I have is some vague, theoretical ideas on how this works. And I know the mechanics. But that’s it. So you’re gonna have to be patient with me.”

    “That’s fine by me,” Roger says. He chuckles. “It’ll make everything I do seem much more magical than it really is.”

    “Sure,” you say mock-condescendingly.

    Roger laughs, and he looks so wonderful when he’s laughing that you can’t help but smile, your hand reaching up to comb through his hair.

    He notices the look in your eye, your smile, and he smiles back in a way that makes your stomach squirm and your fingers and toes tingle.

    He kisses you, and the squirming in your stomach grows into full-blown butterflies, big Amazonian ones, and you begin to have an inkling that, oh no, this could be bad. This could be very bad indeed.

    It’s probably nothing. He’s just hot, and nice, and funny, so you’re excited to have sex with him. That’s it. You’re a duckling that’s imprinted on its mother. Except you’re a human, and Roger’s the first person you’re having sex with, not your mother.

    Not the best analogy you’ve come up with. You can’t blame yourself, though – the way Roger’s kissing you is turning your brain into mush.

    He presses a kiss to just under your ear, and then kisses all the way down your throat, and you tilt your head back. “Feels so good,” you murmur.

    You can feel Roger smile against your skin.

    He keeps going, kissing the hollow at the base of your throat, further down still, and you bite your bottom lip. He presses a kiss to the top of your right breast, and then looks up at you. “Can I take your bra off?”

    You nod eagerly, and he moves back so you can sit up. “Oh, I’ve still got my shoes on,” you said.

    “I’ve noticed,” Roger says, and you chuckle.

    “As super sexy as they are, I do wanna take them off,” you say.

    Roger ducks forward to drop a kiss to your neck, and the butterflies are back, and you can feel your cheeks going pink. You want to hide your face, but Roger’s right there, and you can’t look away from his eyes. “How about you take your bra off,” he says, “and I’ll get your shoes.”

    “You don’t have to take my shoes off for me,” you say.

    “Well, I want to,” he says simply, and shuffles down, climbing off the bed. He gestures for you to shift forward, and you do, until your feet are hanging off the bed, your knees hooked over the edge. Roger gets onto his knees – he makes a dad noise as he does so, and you giggle again – and fiddles with the buckle on one of your shoes.

     You take a moment to watch him, biting your lip, smiling, and then reach behind you and unhook your bra, slipping it from your shoulders.

    He doesn’t look up right away, and you’re thankful for a moment to get your head around the fact that you’ve never been completely topless in front of anyone before. You’re self-conscious about the grooves the bra has dug into your skin, about the way your breasts look without the aid of the push-up, and you almost go to cross your arms over yourself, but then Roger glances up, and his hands go still. “Bloody hell,” he breathes. “You’re gorgeous.”

    You tuck your hair behind your ear. “Thanks,” you say in a small voice, unsure how else to respond.

    Roger shakes his head, and focuses back on the shoe, making quick work of it and easing it off your foot, setting it down beside him. He moves onto the other shoe. “Talk about winning the fuckin’ lottery,” he says.

    “I could say the same,” you say.

    Roger stops again, looking to you, and then smiles, looking back to the shoe. His ears have gone red.

    He takes the second shoe off and places it beside the first, then presses light kisses to the inside of your knee. He moves further up your leg, up your thigh, and you realise you’re holding your breath. His arms are curled around underneath your legs.

    Roger looks up at you, his thick eyelashes making him look almost angelic. “Is this all right?�� he says. “If I…?”

    He’s asking if he can eat you out. Oh, God, he’s asking if he can eat you out. He wants to put his mouth and tongue there, and maybe his fingers, too, and no one’s ever done that before.

    You nod eagerly. Maybe a little too eagerly, as Roger laughs.

    You feel your stomach cave in on itself in embarrassment. “Actually, no thanks,” you say, trying to pull your legs back. “Changed my mind.”

    “No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” Roger says, still chuckling. He coaxes your legs back to where they were, and kisses your thigh. “It was just the look on your face.”

    “You’re doing a terrible job of wooing me,” you say, aiming for resolute and chastising, but it comes out sounding more weedy and humiliated.

    “I’m sorry,” Roger says again, and his hands stroke your legs soothingly. “I am. I didn’t mean to make you feel embarrassed.” He smiles, a glint in his eye, and you’re momentarily left breathless. “Can I… make it up to you?”

    You can’t help but smile back, rolling your eyes. “Wow. Cheesy.”

    “Thank you,” Roger says. “I’m going to be honest, as fun as this banter is, my knees aren’t going to last forever.”

    You splutter a laugh. “Yes, yes, okay, yes please.”

    Roger surges up off the floor to press a firm kiss to your lips, and you take a moment to wonder just how dodgy his knees really are if he can do something like that, or whether he was just looking for a convenient segue into getting your underwear off. You’re not fussed either way.

    Roger kisses your collarbone, and then pulls back, hooking his fingers into your underwear. “Lift your hips up for me, love?”

    The pet name makes heat pool between your legs. Oh, Jesus.

    “Mm-hm,” you say, hoping it sounds more nonchalant to him than it does to your own ears, and lie back to lift your hips, and he slides your underwear down your legs and drops them near your shoes.

    You expect him to go back to his knees straight away, but he holds himself above you, kissing you, deep and slow, making you whimper into his mouth. One hand holds himself up, and the other one massages your hip, his thumb kneading your skin. Relaxing you, you realise. You let yourself get lost in the kiss, and you’re only partially aware when Roger’s hand moves from your hip to your thigh, brushing over your skin.

    You’re extremely aware, however, when his fingers stroke through your folds for the first time.

    Despite yourself, you jump, and Roger murmurs, “Sorry,” but you shake your head to dismiss his concerns, and pull him in again.

    For a few moments it’s strange, feeling someone’s else hand there, and you’re very conscious of how wet you are, and you wonder if it’s something you should be embarrassed about, but then Roger circles your clit, and suddenly all your worries seem very far away.

    It feels… good. Really fucking good. Roger’s fingers are rougher than yours, but they’re clearly experienced in how they move.

    You push your hips up against Roger’s hand, wanting more, and Roger complies, his fingers moving just a touch more roughly, and he ducks his head to nuzzle at your throat, kissing it, nipping lightly.

    “Oh, God,” you moan to the ceiling, overwhelmed already, and you almost laugh at how surprised you sound. Your hand grips Roger’s hair, and you hope it’s not too hard, but you couldn’t let go if you tried.

    Then Roger’s hand is gone, and you let out a choked sound at the sudden stop. You try to gather your thoughts to ask why, but then Roger is kissing down your body. Oh, man, you think, unable to conjure up anything else, and Roger chuckles, and you realise you said it out loud, but you don’t have time to be embarrassed, as Roger takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, his teeth tugging at it, and you gasp.

    “I’ve never… That’s new,” you say weakly, hissing when Roger runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple.

    Roger pulls off to ask, “Do you like it?”

    “Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

    “Good.” He goes back to his task, and you arch off the bed slightly.

    “So good,” you breathe. Roger switches to the other nipple, and you moan appreciatively.

    Eventually, both to your dismay and your excitement, he draws away, and presses a single kiss to the space between your breasts. “You’re fucking stunning,” he says, and then he moves back to climb off the bed, setting himself between your thighs.

    You struggle to wrap your head around it. How he could be making you feel this good, and then still compliment you, as if you’ve done anything to deserve it?

    Roger doesn’t waste time talking now. He kisses the inside of your thigh, and then he dives straight in, his tongue nudging your clit as it pushes through your folds. You suck in a sharp gasp, your hand gripping his hair tightly. Your other hand flails, grappling at the sheets as he starts to find a rhythm. You wind up pressing the back of it to your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds you’re making, trying to gather some sort of control, because right now you feel like you’re falling head-first off a cliff, and Roger has complete power over how you land.

    He does something with his mouth – you couldn’t tell for the life of you what it is – and your hips buck against your will. “Sorry,” you blurt out, and it comes out broken and breathless.

    Roger just adjusts one of his arms, bracing it across your hips, holding you down, and you moan. His other hand joins his mouth, sliding a finger into you. “Oh, fuck,” you whisper, and then your hand returns to its position, keeping you somewhat quieter.

    It doesn’t take long before Roger’s working in a second finger, pumping them in and out of you, and the sound of it is so obscene that it makes your face go bright red. You’re climbing towards an orgasm, frighteningly quickly, and when a third finger squeezes in beside the first two, you very nearly come, but the sting of the stretch is enough to keep it at bay.

    But then your body relaxes around the three fingers, and Roger crooks them just so and sucks on your clit, and you move your hand away from your mouth to say in a rush, “I’m– I’m so close, I’m gonna come, fuck, ah, shit,” and then–

    Then Roger is gone, his fingers and mouth are gone, and you’re left teetering on the brink of an orgasm, feeling like the air has been punched out of you.

    “Wh– Roger?” you say, your head a mess. You prop yourself up on your elbows to see Roger still between your legs, but instead he’s massaging your thighs with his thumbs, dropping light kisses to your soft skin.

    He smiles up at you, his nose and chin glistening. “Thought we could try something.”

    You shake your head to try to clear it. “But I was just about to…”

    You can still feel the urge. Another minute, and you’ll be there. But the longer you wait, the more the feeling fades. It makes you want to punch a wall.

    Roger hums. “I know. That’s the point.”

    You frown, trying to wrap your head around it. “You… don’t want me to?”

    “Not yet.”

    It finally clicks. “You’re gonna do that to me a couple more times before you make me come, aren’t you?”

    Roger’s smile widens into a grin. “That’s the plan. If you’re on board.”

    “I’m on board,” you say. “As long as when I do come, it blows my fucking mind.”

    “That’s really the point of it, love.” Roger keeps eye contact with you as he leans forward to press a kiss to your core, and you shudder. “And move your hand away from your mouth. You don’t have to be quiet. The more sounds you make, the better.”

    “When am I gonna get my hands on you?” you ask. “I’ve barely even touched your dick yet.”

    Roger huffs a laugh, and you can feel his breath against you. “We’re getting there,” he says easily. “Good things come to those who wait.”

    “Ugh, that’s such a dad thing to say,” you bemoan, lying back down.

    Roger laughs again, and then his mouth and hands return to where you so desperately need them. You suck in air through your teeth. “Fuck, Roger.”

    Roger moans, and you jerk at the sensation.

    He brings you to the edge once more, and, even though you don’t tell him when you’re about to come, he knows, and leaves you hanging once again. So close, so close, but not close enough.

    You feel like crying. Or kicking him in the face.

    You moan helplessly, slinging an arm over your eyes, your legs trembling as Roger smiles against your thigh – you can feel it. A smug smile that makes your blood boil and your core throb even more than it already is.

    Then his fingers push into you for a third time, and his tongue licks through you, but this time it’s slow, painfully slow, not enough to make you come but enough to keep your head lost in the clouds, enough to make your stomach clench and twist, desperately searching for something. It’s enough to make you grind your teeth together. “God, fuck, I need to come,” you sob against the palm of your hand, your thighs trying to clench around Roger’s ears, but his arm is in the way, keeping your hips still.

    His tongue drags against your clit, steady and unhurried, and the gasping whine that rips itself from your throat is piercing to your ears. Not even your hand could muffle it.

    “There we go,” Roger says, and does it again.

    You squirm. “Roger, fuck, please, I wanna come so bad.”

    Roger’s fingers still move in and out of you at a leisurely pace, but he uses his mouth to say, “You wanna come?”

    “Yes,” you say miserably. “Please, I need to.”

    His thumb presses against your clit, and you bite your bottom lip, your body twisting.

    “Christ,” Roger breathes. “That’s a fucking sight.”

    “Fuck me,” you beg. “Anything, just please.”

    Roger takes his hand away, standing and wiping his face on the back of his hand, and you swear. He kicks off his boxer-briefs. His cock is hard and red, swollen, leaking. You sit up and zero in on it like it’s a four-course meal and you haven’t eaten in days. You scramble off the bed, dropping to your knees in front of him.

    “Fucking hell,” he says, clearly not expecting you to do that.

    “Can I suck you off?” you ask desperately, resisting the urge to just shove your mouth around his dick without further preamble. “I’ll do a good job, I promise. Just tell me what to do. I’m a fast learner.” You curl your fist around him, sucking the head into your mouth.

    Roger makes a strangled sound, his hips bucking slightly. “Wait, wait, wait,” he says quickly, guiding your head away with a hand on your head.

     You pull back, but keep your hand where it is. “Just fuck my mouth,” you say, gazing up at him. “I dunno how that works, but I can keep it open.” You do so, sticking your tongue out, silently begging with your eyes.

    Roger chuckles softly to himself, running a hand through his hair. “You’re gonna make me come just from running your mouth like that.”

    You open your mouth wider.

    “Or from just doing that,” Roger says. He pries your hand away from his dick, using it to pull you to your feet.

    He kisses you, a hungry kiss, a you’re doing so well kiss, and it makes you preen. “But I want to fuck you,” he says. “I’ve had my dick sucked before; you’ve never been fucked.”

    “I’ve never sucked a dick before, either, though,” you reason.

    “Well, hit me up next time you’re in the neighbourhood,” Roger jokes. Before you can reply, he kisses you again, and you drink him in greedily, palming at his cock until his kisses grow sloppy, messy, more teeth and tongue, and he has to snatch your wrist. “Let me get inside you first,” he growls. “Good God.”

    “I like it when you’re bossy,” you say, teasingly.

    Roger hums, his eyes dark. “You need that attitude fucked right out of you.”

    “Do it,” you say fervently, grinning in delight when he grabs your other wrist as well to stop you from touching him. “Do it, do it, do it. Fuck it right out me. I need it. Never had anyone try to fuck anything out of me before.”

    Roger shudders. “Jesus.”

    You half-heartedly try to tug your wrists back, but he holds them tightly. “Fuck me till I can’t walk,” you say. “Come on.”

    Roger takes a breath, and then lets your wrists go. “Bed. Now.”

    You scramble to obey, clenching your thighs together at the sight of Roger. He looks wrecked already, his hair a mess, his skin flushed, his eyes glassy, his lips red. He goes to his bedside table and digs out a bottle of lube and some condoms. “Maybe should check the date on these,” he mutters to himself, and squints at the packets in his hands. After a few moments of peering at them, he sighs in frustration, and reaches for the pair of glasses on the table that you hadn’t noticed before. He slips them on, and then nods at the packets. “They’re fine.”

    He goes to take the glasses off, but you say, “Wait, show me.”

    He turns to you. “Show you what?”

    Fuck, he looks gorgeous in those glasses. They’re large, round ones, with delicate silver frames, and you make a soft sound. “Oh, wow.”

    “I know, they’re horrendous,” Roger says, taking off the glasses and setting them down. “My eyesight’s always been shite, but I can���t stand wearing the bloody things.”

    “No, you look great,” you say. “So great, in fact, that I need you to get the condom on so you can fuck me literally right now.”

    Roger raises his eyebrows. “You what?”

    “I’m dying here, Roger,” you say loudly, smacking the bed beside you. “You look hot as fuck in those glasses, and I’m so insanely horny that I’m about to explode. I need your dick in me right now.”

    Roger grins, and rips open the condom packet. “All right. Jeez.”

    “Let me do it,” you say, crawling over to him and taking the condom from him.

    “You’ve ever done it before?” he asks.

    “Not since we had to at school when I was, like, fifteen.” You do it carefully, to the best of your memory. Your mouth waters being so close to his cock. “Is this right?”

    “Yeah, perfect,” Roger says. “You look incredible, by the way.”

    You look up at Roger, and the butterflies return. You’re left momentarily speechless, but it doesn’t matter, because Roger leans down and kisses you. His hand rests against your collarbones, and you get another idea in your head. You rise up into a kneel, keeping his lips on yours, and then you take his hand, pressing it against your throat: a silent invitation.

    Roger moans into your mouth, and applies some pressure, just a bit, testing the waters.

    It makes your core ache, and you kiss him harder, so he presses harder in return. His palm is warm against your throat, and you keep one hand loosely around his wrist, the other hand in his hair, as it is wont to do.

    You end up lying back on the bed, Roger pressing his hand against your throat as you gasp and squirm.

    “You like this, don’t you?” Roger says, fingers on his other hand dipping into your folds. “Fuck, feel how wet you are.”

    You nod desperately. Your mouth is hanging open, and your head is starting to swim.

    “Is that all for me, love?”

    You whimper, nodding again. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

    Roger lets go of your throat, and you gasp, your eyes wide. “More,” you say immediately. “More. Fuck me like that.”

    Roger smiles, keeping his palm against your throat, but brushes his thumb across your skin. His other hand curls around your knee. “Your enthusiasm is… mind-blowing,” he says with a chuckle, “but just take a moment, yeah? You’re all over the shop. Slow down a bit.”

    “I don’t wanna slow down,” you protest, grabbing onto his forearm.

    “We’ve got time, love. It doesn’t have to be over so quickly.”

    “You can’t tease me like that, almost make me come, like, three times, and then tell me to slow down,” you say. “I need you, Roger. Christ, I need you. Show me what it’s like, show me how good my first time can be.”

    Roger’s pupils are blown wide, and he lets out a shaky breath. He swallows. “Spread your legs.”

    You grin, and do so. Roger lets go of your throat and leans over you on all fours to kiss you briefly. “I’m not choking you while I fuck you,” he says. “I want you to feel all of it, not have your head somewhere else.”

    You nod vigorously.

    Roger reaches for the lube. You hold out your hand, and he raises an eyebrow at you, but pours some into your hand. You reach forward and slide your fist up and down his cock, spreading the lube. He groans and shudders, and then he says, “That’s enough, that’s enough, I want to fuck you.”

    You take your hand away, wiping the lube on the sheets, Roger surges forward to capture your lips with his, and you feel the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. A shot of adrenaline explodes within you.

    “Tell me if it hurts, okay?” Roger says, and you nod.

    Then, slowly, he pushes into you, just an inch or two. You gasp at the stretch, gripping onto his arms, your mouth wide.

    Roger stills, and nuzzles at your throat. “You okay?”

    “Mm-hm,” you say, biting your lip. “Keep… Keep going.”

    He does, rocking in shallowly, just going a little further each time. He’s panting against your neck, and you can feel your sweat pricking your skin. You can’t help but admire Roger’s back, the way the muscles move.

    It feels good. Once you get over the initial shock to the system of having something that size inside you, you realise why you were so excited to get to this in the first place.

    “I’m good,” you say, nails absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck. “It– It doesn’t hurt or anything.”

    “You sure?” Roger asks, kissing your neck softly.

    You can’t help but laugh. “Roger, for the love of all things holy, fuck me.”

    He doesn’t need another invitation. He slams into you, and your eyes go wide, a tiny sound of surprise leaping out of you.

    “Sorry,” Roger says, raising his head to kiss you in apology.

    “Don’t fucking apologise, it feels good,” you say back. “Come on, come on.”

    Roger laughs, and kisses you. You can feel his laughter against your lips, feel the way his smile changes the shape of his mouth, and that dangerously warm feeling in the pit of your stomach returns.

    You could get used to this. Get used to Roger laughing against your lips as he’s buried inside you. Get used to teasing him, to turning him on, to rolling around in his bed.

    As soon as the thoughts creep into your mind, you banish them. That’s not happening, you tell yourself harshly. This is a one-and-done deal. You can’t develop feelings for a man you’ve only met once. A man who is, by the way, in case you’ve forgotten, sixteen years older than you.

    Then Roger pulls out halfway and drives back into you, and all you can think about is his dick.

    Your hand goes back to your mouth, just like before, keeping yourself quiet as you moan and whimper. Your ankles hook over the small of Roger’s back.

    But then Roger pauses, sitting up, and he unwraps your legs from around him and pushes one of your knees flat on the bed, keeping you spread out wide. “Hands away from your mouth, love,” he says. “Let me hear you. It’s okay, you can let go.”

    Your face burns, and you cover it with both of your hands. It’s too big of an ask. You’ve never felt more vulnerable. “Roger…”

    “[Y/N].”

    You lower your hands. He’s watching you, his blue eyes burning with desire, but they’re soft, too. Understanding.

    “Keep your eyes on me,” he says. “Hold onto the sheets, yeah? Can you do that for me?”

    You nod, and, with no small amount of effort, let your arms go by your sides, your fists wrapping in the sheets.

    Roger smiles. “You’re amazing.”

    You turn your head away, overwhelmed.

    “Eyes on me. Hey.”

    You look back at him. Exposed. You’re exposed, in every sense of the word.

    Roger braces himself on the bed beside your ribs, and, keeping one hand on your knee, holding it down, he starts fucking into you again, hard and deep.

    The sound you make could best be described as a mewl, and it’s a sound you’ve never heard yourself make before. Your hands tighten in the sheets, fighting the urge to cover your face again. Roger’s eyes are still on yours, and it’s too much, you want to look away, but you can’t.

    “So good for me,” Roger pants. “Fuck. God, you’re incredible.”

    You whine. “Roger.”

    “That’s it, love. Say my name.”

    He thrusts into you at just the right angle, making your back arch. “Roger.”

    Roger groans, and he lets go of your knee to circle his fingers around your clit. You gasp, your eyes finally breaking away from his to look to the ceiling, feeling yourself climbing rapidly for the fourth time that night.

    “Let me come, let me come, please,” you beg, your arms straining as your fists pull on the sheets.

    Roger leans forward again to kiss you, a mess of heavy breathing and tongues and lips brushing. You let go of the sheets to clutch onto him, pawing at his shoulders and back and hips, unable to settle on where you want to hold him.

    One hand inevitably slides into his hair, and you grip onto it, tugging it hard. Roger’s rhythm stutters, and he groans out your name.

    His fingers feel so fucking good, and, doubled with the way he’s stretched you out, tripled with how he edged you before, you just know how hard you’re going to come. You can feel it building deeper within you than you’ve ever felt before, like an impending tsunami.

    Roger readjusts, sitting back again, his brow furrowed as he searches for just the right spot to hit you.

    When he does, you cry out. “Right there, right there, fuck.”

    Your hands scrabble for purchase, and one finds your own hair, burying itself, and you don’t pull, but you keep a firm grip on it, the slight pain being the only thing keeping you from losing yourself entirely. Your other hand finds the same spot as before in the sheets, and you sob, screwing your eyes shut.

    “You close?” Roger asks, and you nod.

    “Say it out loud, love.”

    “Yes, I’m so close, I’m so close,” you gasp. You’re almost there, you can feel it, only inches away, moments away.

    “Open your eyes, come on.”

    You do, and meet his gaze. “Roger,” you whimper.

    “You gonna come for me?”

    “Y-yeah.”

    “I wanna hear it, yeah? Wanna see you. See you come undone on my cock.”

    And that’s the final nail in the coffin. You orgasm pulses through you, so hard that you convulse, and you wail, blurting out Roger’s name, clenching down on him. Your blood roars in your ears, and you’ve never come so hard in your life.

    Roger moans out, “Fuck,” and then pumps once, twice more, and then comes, groaning your name, a shudder ripping through him.

    When he comes back to himself, blinking his big blue eyes at you, you can’t help but think he looks otherworldly. His face, pink, shines with sweat, as does his whole body. Locks of hair stick to his forehead, his temples. His mouth hangs open, and his chest heaves, and maybe it’s the ten-out-of-ten orgasm you just had, but in that moment, you kinda want to marry him.

    He takes the hand you’ve tangled in the sheets, and presses a kiss to your wrist. Your heart just about explodes. “You all right?”

    You splutter. “All right? The fuck’s that meant to mean?”

    Roger smiles, massaging the palm of your hand with his thumb. “I mean, are you hurting anywhere?”

    My heart hurts from you being all hot and perfect and stupidly romantic, you think. “No,” you say. “I’m just fine.”

    He pulls out of you, carefully, and it does nothing but reignite a spark of arousal within you. Then he collapses onto the bed beside you with an unmistakable dad noise, and takes off the spent condom, tying it off and tossing it into the rubbish bin beside his bed. When that’s done, he wastes no time in rolling onto his side and pulling you in for a kiss. You hum happily, shifting closer to him, not even caring about the sweat and how wet you are all over your inner thighs.

    When he breaks away, he says, “So. How do you feel?”

    “Like I just had the biggest orgasm of my life,” you say.

    Roger chuckles. “I meant now that you’re, y’know…”

    It clicks. “Now I’ve lost my virginity?” you say playfully. “Had my sexual debut? I’ve become a woman?”

    “Not that any of it matters, of course,” Roger adds. “But it’s still… It can be a big thing.”

    You give him a soft kiss. “Yeah, it doesn’t matter,” you say. “Virginity is nothing but a social construct and all of that.”

    “Of course,” Roger reiterates.

    “But I feel… happy.” You hope your grin isn’t as cheesy as it feels. “It’s nice to not have to… worry about it anymore, I suppose? I don’t know if I was really worrying about it before, but it… I don’t know.” You shrug. “I just had a really good time. That’s all that matters.”

    “Good.” Roger’s hand goes to your hip, squeezing it. “I’m glad.”

    “Did…” You lick your lips. “Did you have a good time?”

    “Did I have a good time?” Roger repeats, almost aghast. “Are you joking?”

    “Even though I had no idea what I was doing?”

    “You’re a natural.”

    You laugh. Your stomach squirms – both because of those ridiculous maybe-almost-could-be feelings, and because, even though you know in your mind that the whole sex part of the evening is over, your body certainly isn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet.

    Your thighs clench together, but you do your best to hide how it feels. You don’t want to be greedy.

    Roger feels your thighs move under his hand, though, and he looks to you questioningly. “Are you still–”

    “No, no, I’m fine,” you say lightly, shaking your head. “I was just moving around.”

    Roger pauses, and then says, “All right.” He kisses you, and then takes a moment to gather his energy before he sits up. “I’ll get us some water.” He turns to you, pointing a finger at you, as if something just occurred to him. “You should go pee.”

    Your eyes widen, and you nod. “Oh, yes, good thinking.”

    “Bathroom’s just there,” he says, gesturing across the room at the closed door.

    “You have an en suite?”

    “Well, yeah. Much easier when there’s kids around.” His face falls a little. “Not that I’ve had the kids here very often recently, but uh…”

    “I’m sorry,” you say.

    He shakes his head. “Sorry. It’s fine. Great way to bring down the mood, eh?” He leans down again to kiss you, and then stands up, stretching. “Be back in a mo’.”

    You watch him, your gaze hawk-like, as he pulls on his neon-green underwear and disappears out the door, raking his hand through his hair as he goes.

    Your thighs clench together again, and you whimper.

    You try to push it aside, and slide off the bed to go the bathroom, pulling on your underwear as you go. You don’t exactly feel like putting your push-up bra back on, but you don’t want to just lounge around completely naked. Would it be too presumptuous to put on Roger’s shirt?

    You bite your lip, considering, and then decide to just bite the bullet, slipping it on and buttoning it up. It’s comfy, and smells like him; you understand why women in movies do it now. You do have to call bullshit on wearing a man’s shirt like a short, cute dress though – it’s more just like a long shirt, and you’re glad you’ve chosen to put on underwear.

    It feels odd to pee in a stranger’s house – even odder that it’s an en suite – but you’re thankful that you get a moment to properly gather yourself in private, instead of while being surrounded by the smell of sex.

    It’s when you’re washing your hands that you finally get a look at yourself in the mirror. Your mouth drops open in horror.

    You look like a fucking mess. Your foundation is patchy where you get oily and where you’ve sweated it off, and there’s a slight ring of smudged mascara under your eyes – honestly, you’re thankful that it’s not worse, and that your setting spray did at least something. Your hair, though, is the worst of it all. You look like you’ve been dragged through a bush backwards.

    “Oh, shit,” you whisper to yourself. What can you do? You don’t have any make-up with you to try to fix the problems, but you can’t exactly take it off, either. You have no way to fix your hair. You untie it from the ponytail it was in and try to smooth it out, but it doesn’t really do much, so you tie it back up again, but it’s a shitty ponytail, so you untie it and try again. Then you try a third time, and give up, settling on the disaster that it is, and grab a tissue, blotting at your make-up.

    You sigh, staring at your reflection. Well, fuck. What the fuck are you meant to do? How the hell can you go back into the bedroom, knowing you look like this?

    “[Y/N]?” Roger calls. “You all right in there, love?”

    You shiver. God, the way he says the word ‘love’. The way he says your name.

    You clear your throat. “Um, yeah, I’m– I’m fine. Just…” You can’t say you’re still peeing. Oh, fuck, what if he thinks you’re taking a shit or something? “I’m just fixing up my make-up.”

    “I think there might still be some make-up wipes in a drawer somewhere, if you want to have a look,” Roger says. “Maybe they’re no good anymore, I’m not sure.”

    You have a dig around, and find a packet. It’s already been opened, quite a while ago by the looks of it. Must be Roger’s ex-wife’s.

    The thought of that sits weirdly with you, but you’re not quite sure why. Almost like you feel like you’re intruding, maybe. You certainly don’t feel like you belong here, in this bougie, nice house.

    You sigh again, and pull out a handful of make-up wipes, seeing if there’s any that still hold any moisture. One in the middle has a little bit, so you carefully run it under your eyes, and lightly tap it over your forehead and down your neck to soothe your skin, fixing up any problem areas as best you can without it being too obvious that you’ve just wiped off the make-up.

    The end result is fine. Not good, and certainly not great, but… yeah. Fine.

    You throw the make-up wipes into the bin, take a deep breath, and exit the bathroom.

    Roger’s on his phone, and he looks up when he hears the door open. His face goes slack when he sees you. “You’re wearing my shirt?”

    “Isn’t that what girls are meant to do after sex?” you joke.

    “I just haven’t seen, um, anyone do that in… in a long time,” he says, somewhat stilted, and he glances down at his hands. He quickly turns his eyes back to you. “It looks good. Really good.”

    “Thank you,” you say, and pad over to the bedside table near him, where he has two glasses of water waiting. “Which one’s mine?”

    “On the left.” Roger sets his phone down and watches you as you take a sip of water.

    He’s close to you, and, like before you kissed for the first time, you’re hyperaware of every movement. But he barely moves, just waits for you.

    When you put the water down, you hesitate. You want to climb on top of him, kiss him, feeling his arms around you again, but is that too much? Does he want you to go? Are you overstaying your welcome?

    “You all right?” he asks gently.

    You nod. “Um, yeah,” you say, and take a step back. “You probably, um, have work or something tomorrow, so I should go.”

    You don’t miss the way Roger’s face falls a bit. “Oh, you want to go?”

    No. “Well, it– I don’t want to impose…”

    “If you want to go, then I’ll order an Uber for you,” Roger says. “But don’t feel like you have to go if you don’t want to.”

    The Amazonian butterflies are back yet again. “I…”

    “Because – and correct me if I’m wrong,” Roger says, reaching out and tugging on his shirt, pulling you closer, and you go without any resistance, “but I think you were telling a bit of a fib before, when you said you were… what did you say? Just moving around?”

    You press your lips together as Roger guides you between his legs, and he tilts his head back to gaze up at you. He smiles at the look on your face. “Am I right?”

    You can feel your face heating up again. “No,” you mumble unconvincingly, hiding your smile behind your hand.

    “No hands over mouths,” Roger murmurs, reaching up and taking yours. “You don’t have to hide.”

    Fuck. Oh, fuck. His voice sounds like a warm fireplace feels, and you barely even know him, but you’ve never felt safer, more comfortable, around a man. You can’t pretend now – you’re really starting to like him.

    Roger raises his eyebrows at you, just a touch, searching your face. “So? Am I right?”

    “It’s fine,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m fine, really. You’ve done plenty, I… I can’t ask for more.”

    Roger hums, and presses a kiss to your palm before letting your hand go. “All right, okay,” he says. “I was wrong, I see. Can I at least tell you what I’d do to you if I had been right?”

    You breathe in shakily, and nod once.

    The corner of Roger’s mouth quirks up. “Well,” he says slowly, “first I’d kiss you, of course. And, as hot as you look wearing nothing but my shirt and your knickers, I’d undress you again. Get you lying down on your back, all spread out for me. I’d kiss you some more. Then I think I’d choke you, because you seem to like that a lot, yeah?”

    You nod, hypnotised.

    Roger nods as well. “Right. And then, while I was holding you down by your throat–”

    You gulp.

    “–I’d get my other hand, and I’d–”

    “Okay, yes, you were right,” you blurt out, and grab his face, ducking down to kiss him desperately. He kisses you with just as much hunger, and nudges you a few steps back, giving him enough room so he can stand up and start unbuttoning the shirt. As soon as he’s done, your shrug it from your shoulders, and Roger pulls you closer by your ass. One hand moves to cup your jaw, his tongue pressing against yours. It doesn’t take long before the hand shifts to your throat, and you whimper softly, urging him to tighten his grip.

    He does, and the feeling of it goes straight to your core. Your hands clutch at him frantically.

    He lets go of your throat, and you suck in a gasp, then latch onto his neck, kissing and nipping and sucking at his skin, licking off the salty traces of sweat.

    “Careful, love, careful,” he says shakily. “I can’t turn up to work looking like I’ve been attacked by a vacuum.”

    You huff, but soften your kisses. He moans under his breath, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard anything hotter.

    Soon, you break away, and crawl back onto the bed, and he follows you, positioning himself on all fours above you to kiss you deeply, his knee slotting into between your thighs. He presses it against your core, and you instinctively grind against it, shuddering when it fires an electric shock of arousal through your system. Roger shifts, readjusting his balance so he can bring his hand back to your throat, and you welcome it. You grind against his leg again.

    It’s when you have to stop kissing him, your brain going into overdrive trying to force you to focus on breathing, you have to breathe, that Roger sits back, moving his leg out of the way and replacing it with his other hand.

    “Fuck, Roger,” you gasp, twitching under his grip, your hands vice-like on his forearm. Your eyes slide closed, revelling in the way your head swims, the way your body fights to suck as much oxygen as it can into your lungs. You’re still so wet from before, still so stretched out, that Roger slides two fingers into you at the same time with ease, and you let out a stuttering moan, bucking your hips into his hand. His fingers swirl around your clit, hitting it in just the right way, and within minutes you’re almost there.

    “Most people think the best part about getting choked is the actual ‘getting choked’ part,” Roger says out of the blue, and you frown, trying to follow, opening your eyes.

    “Hear me out,” Roger says casually, pushing his fingers back into you and flicking your clit with his thumb, and you whine. “Are you close, love?”

    You nod.

    Roger hums. “You look so good like this. Does it feel good?”

    You nod again. “Mm-hm.”

    “Yeah, looks like it does. Looks like you enjoy it.”

    “Ah, Roger, please.”

    “It’s all right, love, I’ve got you.” Roger’s fingers quicken their pace, and you make a sound, squirming.

    “As I was saying,” Roger continues, “people think the best part of getting choked is actually getting choked. But it’s not. The best part of it is actually being let go. Do you want to see?”

    You nod, barely even listening to what he’s saying. You’re too close to coming to pay attention.

    And then Roger lets go of your throat at the same time he brushes your clit, and a rush of oxygen flows into your lungs, a rush of blood flows back to your head, and your orgasm slams into you, and the world seems so much brighter in that moment. “Oh, fuck, fuck,” you gasp, your back arching, your eyes wide.

    It feels like it goes on for a lifetime, although perhaps that’s just your mind trying to sort itself out. When you do finally start to come down from your high, you realise you’re shaking, and Roger is grinning at you. You blink at him owlishly.

    “Wh– Huh?” you breathe, your heart racing, and Roger laughs.

    “So you’re alive, then,” he teases, and leans down to kiss you.

    You grab onto him, kissing him soundly, and roll the both of you over, so you’re straddling him. You just stay like that, just making out, letting the frenzied kisses lull themselves into something slower, something calmer. Just kissing for the sake of it. Roger’s hands stroke up and down your back, and you could almost fall asleep like this.

    Speaking of falling asleep – you have to break away, hiding your yawn by tucking your face into his chest. Roger hums, and you can feel it vibrating against your body. You smile. “Sorry,” you mumble.

    “Can hardly blame you,” Roger says, his voice low. “It’s late.”

    You let yourself slump against him, a moment of pure self-indulgence, and then roll to the side, dumping yourself onto the bed. You groan, unable to stop yourself from instinctively shifting into a more comfortable position for sleeping, your arm beneath your head like a pillow, your eyes closing.

    “I’m sorry,” you say again, muffled by your arm. “I’ll leave in a minute.”

    Roger says nothing, and you feel your stomach coil in guilt. God, he wanted you to leave fifteen minutes ago, didn’t he? He was just too polite to say anything. And then you pressured him into making you come again, because you were too selfish to know when enough was enough. Great, fucking great, you’ve fucked it all up, and you’re a huge piece of shit, and you–

    “Did you want to stay the night?” Roger asks tentatively.

    Your eyes fly open, and you shift up onto your elbow. “What?” you say. “Stay?”

    Roger glances away from you. “It– It was just a suggestion,” he says. “Just an idea, I don’t know. I, um – it’s just late, and I don’t want you travelling all that way on your own. You can, obviously, if you want to, that’s up to you, I just…”

    You’re hardly even listening. You’re still struggling to drink in the first thing he said. “You want me to stay?” you ask.

    Roger looks to you, and bites his bottom lip. “If– Well, if you want to, then, um, yes, I’d like you to. But only if you want to.”

    You beam, and your heart triples in size. “Um, yes. I’d like to.”

    Roger smiles back. “Good. Great. That’s–” He clears his throat. “Did you want to have a shower?”

    “I think so,” you say with a laugh. “I’m…” You went to say I’m so disgusting right now, but you don’t want to fuck up your now-sleepover before it’s even properly begun. “Yes please.”

    “Well, you know where the bathroom is,” Roger says, nodding towards the en suite. “There’s a spare toothbrush in the drawer, if I remember correctly. I’ll get you a towel.”

    “You’re not coming into the shower with me?” you ask coyly.

    Roger blinks, and you laugh.

    “Oh,” he says. “You were joking.”

    “I wasn’t,” you say. “You just made me laugh.”

    Roger swoops down to steal a kiss, and you don’t let him leave, pushing up into him, stealing a few kisses back.

    “Let me get you a towel,” he says, and then climbs off the bed and pads out of the room.

    You bite on your finger to stop yourself from making some stupid giggle, or maybe a dumb squealing sound like a little girl. He asked you to stay the night. He wants you to stay the night.

    Oh, shit, you realise, your finger dropping from your mouth. Justine. You never told her what was happening.

    Where’s your phone? In the living room. Spitting out a curse, you pull on your underwear and Roger’s shirt again, and hurry out. You run into Roger, arms full of sheets, in the hallway. “Hey, is everything all right?” he says. “What did you forget?”

    “I never told my roommate I wasn’t coming home,” you say. “Last she heard, I was about to book an Uber.”

    Roger’s eyes go a little wider. “Shit, whoops. Yeah, go tell her.”

    You shoot him a smile, and scurry off to the living room. Your phone is on the couch, and you snatch it up. Wow, shit, it is late. You’re glad you only have an afternoon lecture tomorrow.

    Thankfully, just one message from Justine, from about half an hour ago. hey, haven’t heard from u in a while. just send me a message when u get this ok? xx

    You respond. fuck sorry, left my phone in the other room. I have SO MUCH to tell u omg, but in a nutshell uhh we ended up sleeping together, it was fucking amazing, and now he’s asked me to stay over, so ill see u at uni tomorrow maybe? if not then at home xx

    You keep your phone in hand, and head back to Roger’s room. He’s started cleaning up in the minute you were gone, stripping the bed. Fresh sheets sit on the floor. “What’s this?” you ask.

    “I’m making the bed,” Roger says simply, tugging a pillow from its case. “I’m too old to be sleeping on sheets I’ve just had sex on. Let me tell you, it makes a difference. And the sheets were due for a change, anyway.”

    You step forward. “Well, let me help.”

    “Don’t be silly, jump in the shower.”

    “Don’t tell me what to do.” You set your phone down beside his on the bedside table, and together the two of you help remake his bed.

    Roger chases you into the shower then, and says he’s going to tidy up the room a little more before he joins you. “I’m on a roll now,” he says, picking up your shoes from where you kicked them aside during the bed-making. “Can’t stop, won’t stop.”

    You take the make-up wipes. The door is about halfway open, and you can hear Roger moving around, hear when he trips over something and hisses out a curse, making you smile.

    The make-up wipe freezes in the air near your eye. You can’t very well have a shower and go to bed without taking your make-up off – it does not make even a vague semblance of a pretty picture – but this is… way more intimate than you were expecting. Why didn’t you think of this when you agreed to stay over? Roger’s going to see you without your make-up on, with your hair tied up in a bun. He’s going to see you in the morning, all bleary-eyed and disgusting. Fuck, morning breath. You have the spare clothes you brought that you can change into tomorrow, but no extra underwear. Nothing to wear tonight. It’s a miracle that Roger even has a spare toothbrush. What time does he get up for work? Will he expect you to leave before he wakes up?

    Are you a one-night-stand? Is that what this is? Are you asked to stay the night if you’re nothing but a one-night-stand, or does the fact that he asked you mean something else?

    “Is your roommate all right?” Roger asks, coming to the door, leaning against the doorjamb. “No freak-outs?”

    You lower the make-up wipe. “Um, no. It’s all fine, I think.”

    “Have you found the toothbrush?”

    “No, I haven’t checked yet.”

    Roger moves around you, pulling open the drawer and rummaging through. “Ah, here it is. Still in the packet! How good am I?”

    You smile as he presents it to you like it’s a medal of honour. “Thanks.”

    “Sorry about the make-up wipes,” Roger says. “They’re not great.” He huffs, and then leans against the edge of the sink, rubbing his hands down his face. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m… I’m actually really nervous.”

    Your eyebrows shoot up. “Nervous?” you repeat. “About what?”

    “About… you staying over,” he confesses. “It’s been, I don’t know, ten years since I’ve had anyone new sleep over. My brain is suddenly filled with every annoying thing I do when I sleep. And I look awful in the mornings, let me tell you. If you think I look bad now, just you wait.”

    “Who says I think you look bad now?” you say. “I thought I made it perfectly clear that I think you’re a hot piece of ass, Roger.”

    Roger splutters, flustered, and you grin.

    “I move around a lot,” he says. “When I sleep. So be prepared to cop an elbow to the face.”

    “Don’t you worry, I’m a heavy sleeper,” you say. “And I move around, too.”

    “I run hot,” Roger adds. “I’m like a space heater. And sometimes I talk in my sleep, but only when I’m really stressed about something, like work. I can be really very clingy.”

    “I run cold,” you say with a shrug. “So clingy suits me fine.”

    Roger pauses, staring at you, like he wasn’t expecting an answer like that. Then he snaps out of it, glancing away. “Sorry,” he says for a third time.

    “Don’t apologise,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t have to. I’m nervous, too. Like, really fucking nervous. I’m– I’m too nervous to even take my make-up off.”

    Roger’s eyes search your face. “I won’t care what you look like,” he says gently. “I’m sorry that you feel nervous about taking it off. But it won’t matter, I promise.”

    “Just wait and see,” you joke in a sing-song voice.

    Roger is silent for a few moments, and then he says, “Well, I hope you’re ready. I’m going to kiss the bloody daylight out of you when you take it off.”

    You don’t know how to respond. “You don’t have to do that.”

    “I’m going to. I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t feel uncomfortable without make-up on. And if that means I have to keep kissing you all night as a reminder that it doesn’t matter what you look like without make-up, then that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

    You duck your head, making a disgruntled sound. Why does he have to say cute shit like that? Why must he make you suffer?

    Roger pushes the packet of make-up wipes a little closer to you, waggles his eyebrows at you, making you giggle, and then reaches across you for his toothbrush.

    You start wiping off your make-up.

    Roger waits until you’ve finished taking it off, until you’ve brushed your teeth, until you’re well and truly left without anything to do, and then he cups your face in his hands and does exactly what he promised he’d do.

    One steamy make-out session and one far-too-long shower later, you’re sitting on the newly-made bed, wrapping in a towel, the strands of hair that slipped loose from your bun sticking to your neck and temples. You’re watching Roger pull on a pair of underwear and rifle through his chest of drawers. He pulls out a huge shirt, clearly worn and well-loved, and turns to you, holding it out. “I went on a day trip once to Brighton,” he says. “We were out to a pub and I spilled red wine all over my shirt. Had to buy a new one. Sent one of my mates to get it for me and he came back with this. Hence why I have a shirt about five sizes too big for me.”

    “You didn’t have to explain,” you say with a chuckle, taking it from him.

    “I feel like I did,” Roger says. “I, um, usually use it as a sleep shirt when I travel.”

    You slip it on, and then stand up, letting your towel drop to the floor. The shirt is long enough to cover everything, but you’re not about to bend down any time soon.

    You glance over at your underwear, where they’re in a pile near the door. Should you put them back on?

    “Please don’t,” Roger blurts.

    You look to him. “Huh?”

    His face goes red. “Um. I just– I– You– I saw you look over there, and–” He rubs his hand along his jaw. “I, um…” He looks to the ceiling, and says it in a rush. “I’m sorry this sounds awful but I saw you looking over at your knickers and I don’t want you to put them on because you look really hot wearing my shirt and the thought of you wearing nothing underneath makes my brain explode.”

    “You’re one to talk,” you say, “standing in front of me in nothing but a pair of boxers like that doesn’t make my brain explode.”

    Roger’s eyes flick towards yours, and he breaks out into a smile, and then laughs. “I guess we’re even, then.”

    “We’ll be truly even when I see you wearing my clothes,” you say teasingly.

    Roger steps in close, his hands coming to your waist. “I don’t think your dress would fit properly, love.”

    “I’ll have to come better prepared next time,” you say, and Roger hums, leaning in to give you a kiss.

    Next time. Next time. You said ‘next time’. Talk about presumptuous. Christ! What is wrong with you?

    You break away. “Not that I think there’ll be a next time,” you say quickly. No. Bad phrasing. “I don’t want to assume there’ll be a next time.” Still bad. “I don’t want you to think that I think there has to be a next time.” Even worse. “I don’t want you to feel obliged to have a next time if you don’t want there to be.” Better. Not great, but passable.

    “I want a next time,” Roger says. “If you want one.”

    “I do,” you say, God, far too eager. “I’d really like there to be a next time.”

    “Me too,” Roger says.

    You press into him for another kiss, and then, finally, the two of you make it to bed.

    Once you’re under the covers, you almost fall asleep immediately. You didn’t realise how exhausted you are. Roger reaches over and switches off the light, and then wraps an arm around your stomach, his front against your spine. You allow yourself to smile freely in the dark, even as your eyes close and you drift off to sleep.

                                                      ~~~

    “I’m… I’m going to send you the rest of the payment,” Roger says. He’s dressed for work, just in a white dress shirt and black slacks, and you’d been admiring him and enjoying the coffee he’d made you after you’d gotten out of the shower. It’s early – too early, for both of you.

    But now your stomach drops, and you lower your mug of coffee from your lips. “You are?”

    “Yes,” Roger says.

    “You don’t have to,” you say. “I said it last night, I don’t care about the money.”

    “I know,” Roger says. “But it’s still right. You started this whole thing to help pay the bills, and it’s not your fault that there was that whole mix-up. You don’t deserve to miss out on getting the money you’ve rightfully earned.”

    “You don’t deserve to fork out that much money because of that whole mix-up,” you say. “You’ve already paid half of it. And it’s– it’s quite a fair bit, Roger.”

    “I can afford to pay it,” Roger says. “I’m living more than comfortably. Giving you the money you’ve earned would just mean that I can’t, I don’t know, travel overseas this year.” He raises his eyebrows a touch. “Well, now that I might not have to be paying for three kids as well, maybe I’ll still be able to afford to go.” He shakes his head. “That’s beside the… My point is, I can afford it. And you deserve it.”

    You don’t know what to say. “Roger…”

    “Just let me,” he says earnestly. “Please. I want to.”

    You open and close your mouth a few times. God, you’d be mad to turn down the money. But it doesn’t feel right. Does it? You don’t even know what to think.

    You glance down at your mug. “All right,” you say quietly, so much so that you’re not even sure if he can hear you. But you can’t bring yourself to speak any louder. “Thank you, Roger.”

    “Hey.”

    You look up at him, and he smiles. “You can pay me back by letting me take you out to dinner.”

    Your face immediately grows hot. “Suave motherfucker,” you say, and he laughs.

    “I still have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he says playfully.

    Your stomach squeezes. “Sure,” you say. “But I’m paying.”

    Roger snorts. “Not bloody likely.”

    “I’ll fight you for the cheque, don’t think I won’t.”

    “Maybe I’ll just sneakily pay for it before you’ve even realised.”

    You narrow your eyes at him. “Can we settle on going Dutch?”

    Roger sips his coffee. “All right,” he says eventually.

    “Good.”

    He takes out his phone, holding it out to you. “Text me some time during this week,” he says. “About where you want to go. Or just text me if you want to say hi. Or call me. Y’know, whatever.”

    You tilt your head to the side as you take his phone. “That wasn’t quite as suave, I have admit.”

    Roger sighs. “Damn.”

    You laugh, and send a quick text to yourself, then slide the phone back to him.

    He seems extremely pleased, but he takes a casual drink from his coffee like he’s trying to hide it, and you can’t help but think it’s horribly cute.

    He shoots a glance at you, and sees you grinning at him, and his cheeks turn pink, and he clears his throat, turning away to the sink to rinse his mug out.

                                                      ~~~

    You’re at uni, half-asleep, shuffling back to the bus stop after your never-ending lecture, when Justine barrels into you, grabbing your elbow so tightly that you yelp. “What the fuck happened last night?” she exclaims.

    You don’t know why it hadn’t been awkward this morning. Apart from the money conversation. There had still been some nervousness, on your part anyway, but Roger had been too focused on getting ready for work to let any uncomfortable silences hang. You have to admit that it had been nice to wake up with someone’s arm around you, and you had been quietly delighted to see Roger fussing over the faint bruises on his neck, pulling up his shirt collar and adjusting his tie to try to cover them. After you’d both gotten ready for the day, he’d dropped you at the nearest bus stop. “And I will text you,” he’d said seriously. “Don’t think I won’t.”

    “Good,” you’d said. “I’ll be waiting for it. Three days is the general rule, right?”

    Roger had groaned. “Don’t make me wait three days.”

    You had chuckled. “I’m not making you do anything.” You’d hesitated, and then said, “Is it weird if I kiss you before I go?”

    Roger had taken a breath. “I… wouldn’t say so, no.”

    So you’d leant in and kissed him, and he’d kissed you back, and you’d wanted to keep kissing him, but a car had pulled up behind you and honked, so you’d drawn back, whispered, “Bye,” and gotten out of the car.

    Once you’d figured out how to get home, you’d crashed, sleeping until your alarm had woken you up again for your lecture.

    “Stuff,” you say to Justine.

    “Stuff?” Justine squawks. “Don’t give me that shit. You have to tell me literally everything, or I’m going to kill you. Come on.” She loops her arm through yours, and starts towing you towards the bus stop.

    Your phone buzzes, and you pull it out of your pocket.

    I know it hasn’t been three days, but it’s been more than three hours. Is that enough time, do you think?

    You smile, reply, I think so, yeah, then quickly pocket the phone before Justine can sneak a glance as Amazonian butterflies flutter around in your stomach.

[purplesurveys]

1157

survey by hxcsingingsk8r

Phone Scavenger Hunt

First off, what phone do you have? I have an iPhone 8.

And what provider do you use? It’s a local one you wouldn’t know about, called Globe.

How long have you had your current phone? I can’t remember if it would be 3 or 4 years this 2021. Either way, it’s definitely been a while and I’ve been itching to upgrade. It’s too early to make such a big purchase, though.

Do you have any cases for it? Describe them. I have a clear case that I bought last year. Before that, I had a pink Otterbox case that I managed to destroy even though Otterbox is normally known for its durability. I just have a very unique ability to wreck everything I’ve ever owned lol.

How old were you when you got your first cellphone? I was technically 6, but it was meant to be a present for my 7th birthday. We threw a birthday party a month in advance because my dad had to fly back abroad for work before my actual birthday, but we wanted him to be present at the celebration so we decided throwing a party early was the best route.

What about your first smartphone? [If the answer is different] It was an iPhone 5S.

How old are you now? Dunno what this has to do with the theme of the survey but I am now 22.

Okay, move onto the scavenger hunt part

What is your lock screen picture of? It’s of Kim Seon Ho at a restaurant, lmao.

Home screen? It’s one of the shots from a recent promotional photoshoot Hayley did for Good Dye Young.

How many pictures are thre currently on your phone? This question just made me so anxious hahaha. I have way too many photos; and upon checking, it turns out I currently have 6,266. My god do I need to clean up my camera roll this weekend.

How many videos? I have 227. I have no idea it’s gotten to be this many; I barely use my phone to take videos. I’ll go ahead and delete some of them right now, just to give my phone (and its storage) space to breathe.

What is your most recent picture of? It’s a work thing...I guess I’ll explain it so it can make more sense. So one of our clients has got this Lent campaign going on, and to spread word about it we’ve tapped a handful of food bloggers to try out the offers themselves and post about their experience on social media. Now that we’re in the middle of Holy Week they’ve gone ahead and uploaded their own posts, and I’m in charge of taking screenshots so I can show to the client that the execution had been successful.

And the most recent video? It’s a private vlog. Every Sunday, or at least every other Sunday I take a few minutes to sit down and do a weekly video thing where I talk about my ~mental~ and ~emotional~ status, and it’s basically a way to be in touch with myself and keep track of my progress. Who knows, maybe I’ll actually get to uploading them one day.

Do you have any albums? If so, of what? Yeah. I have one for Cooper, one for Kimi, and a bunch of tiny albums I’ve made where I compiled 4–5 photos of friends to post on their birthdays.

What pictures have you favorited? I have a lot of favorited photos. There’s no required category for me to label them as such.

Do you have any shared albums with friends or family or work? No. I’m not sure if I can do that, or how to do it if it is allowed.

Do you have any alarms set? For what time and for what occasions? I have a bunch of alarms but only because they’re archived into the Clock app and I just haven’t gotten around to deleting them. When I was still new at my work, I used to have alarms set for certain work tasks I have to take note of every week – but now that I’ve gotten into the groove of things, I don’t need the alarms to be reminded about them anymore.

Check your weather app, what is the weather and temperature where you live? It says ‘Mostly Clear’ and shows a temperature of 26ºC.

Do you have the YouTube app? Do you have your own channel? I do have the app and my own account, but I never use it to post videos. It’s nice to have my own channel so that my homepage can be tailored to my interests.

Do you have an email app? Which one do you use? I just have the default Email app that comes with iOS, but I never use it because it’s so wonky. It doesn’t refresh new emails and it takes forever when it does, and it doesn’t always show the full thread of email conversations. If I absolutely need to check my email for something I usually have to pull out my laptop.

Does it say that there is an update available on your phone or any apps? Yes, it reminds me everyday hahaha. I don’t update unless Apple has been planning a big revamp with new features, though; and if the updates are just to address bugs, I disregard the reminders.

Go into your contacts, how many contacts do you have total? It says I have 178.

Name all of your contacts under the letter M: Feels a tad bit invasive, so I’ll just name five people I have under M: Lui, Kim, Patrice, Danika, and Andi.

Name all of your contacts under the letter U: I don’t have anyone under U.

Do you have any contacts that are businesses rather than people? Which ones? No, I don’t really use text to contact businesses. If I wanted to inquire or order from one, I usually head to their social media page.

Go into your notes, how many notes do you have saved? This is another one I have a hoarding problem with lol. My phone says I currently have 561 notes, though I’m fairly certain the biggest chunk of it comes from minutes I’ve taken down from work meetings. It was a whole lot less when I was still in school.

What kinds of things do you save in your notes? Like I said, I use Notes for taking down minutes from meetings. There are also a few surveys on there, from times I didn’t have internet and couldn’t post them on here.

Do you have any voice memos saved? What of? Yep. Some of them were recordings I had to do for journalism classes I was assigned to do voiceovers; some are interviews, also from my journ class; and the rest are of me rambling.

Do you ever use the calculator app? Pretty frequently for work.

Do you ever use the Maps app? Not really. If I needed directions, I would check out Waze for that.

Do you have any health/fitness apps? Which ones? I still have the Nike Training app from the very brief time I wanted to start working out earlier this year.

Do you have the Instacart app? The what now? I’ve never even heard of that.

What about a delivery service like Postmates, Uber Eats, Grubhub, Doordash? I have the McDelivery app for McDonald’s, but I also have other general delivery apps like Grab, Lalamove, and Transportify.

Do you have something like Venmo, Cashapp, or Paypal? I have the Paypal app but I never use it. I also have a couple of e-wallet apps just in case I’d have to use them as a payment method, since some businesses  I purchase from prefer certain ones. Ultimately, though, I use Grab’s mobile wallet the most often.

Do you use Bitmoji? I think I did before? I never used it all that regularly though. Didn’t see the point.

What other keyboards do you use besides English? Any? Filipino, Korean, and Emoji.

Which social media network apps do you have? Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, Tumblr, TikTok, and Snapchat. So I guess I have all the main ones?

If you have Instagram, what is your handle and how many followers? I have a very private one I only use for work. I didn’t want it to have any followers but at present there’s Angela (because she asked to follow it this week) and Bea (idk why).

What do you typically post on the various social media platforms? The only ones I regularly post on are Twitter and Facebook, and on either I share life updates (if there are any) and memes; though on Facebook I have to watch out what kind of memes I share and make sure they aren’t too offensive because I’m friends with relatives, workmates, and media on there lmao. But on Twitter, I basically have no filter.

Do you make TikTok videos? I don’t make any myself, but I do enjoy going through the app.

Do you only add people you know on Facebook? Yes, for the most part. I’ve taken to adding people as long as they’re from UP or my high school even though I’ve never met them as well, but if I sense that they only added me to try and sell me insurance OR try to get me into MLM, then it’s an instant unfriend for me.

Do you have an app that tracks Instagram followers? No, because I don’t need to track my Instagram followers. I’m off the radar as off the radar gets.

Do you have a Snapchat? Yeah, it’s still on my phone just because but I literally never touch it anymore.

Do you ever take selfies with filters? What app's filters do you use? Eh, just before. I don’t really take selfies anymore, period.

Do you use any apps like Depop or Poshmark or Etsy? No. Out of these three I’ve only ever heard of Etsy, too.

What messengers do you use to talk to people? Any besides just texting? I have Messenger to stay in touch with family and friends; Whatsapp and Viber for work; and Telegram just in case my friends want to play games.

Do you have any photo editing apps? Which ones? I have this app called Foodie that has some pretty filters. Otherwise, since I’m not on Instagram anyway I’m never on the lookout for photo editing apps; no one ever filters their photos on Facebook and Twitter lol.

Do you have any games? Which ones? I do have a ton of games on my phone. I never play any of them, but I keep them just in case I get bored enough to start revisiting them. I have word games, drinking games, games similar to Heads Up! where one person will have to guess the word on the screen while the phone is on their forehead, and gimmicky games like 1010! and Candy Crush haha.

Do you have any rideshare apps like Lyft or Uber? I have Grab, which is a rideshare, parcel delivery, food delivery, and online grocery app all in one.

Now go to the actual phone app, whose phone numbers are saved as favorites? I don’t tag any of my contacts as favorites.

Who was your most recent outgoing call to? I can’t recognize the number, so it was probably a Transportify driver that I called to give him directions to my house.

Who was your most recent incoming call from? I also can’t recognize the number, but this time he was most likely a Grab driver.

Who was your most recent missed call from? Again, can’t recognize the number HAHAA

Why did you miss that call? On purpose? Were you sleeping? Busy? My phone is on silent 24/7, so I must have missed it while I was working.

Who is your most recent voicemail from and what's it regarding? We don’t have voicemail in the Philippines.

What was the last thing you Googled or searched on your phone? Candle tunneling and how to fix it.

What music app do you use? Apple Music? Spotify? Something else? I use Spotify, but I also availed of a 3-month trial on Apple Music earlier this year just because. I think it’s supposed to end soon but I have no plans to shift.

What playlists have you made on there? I have playlists called, “robyn discovers kpop,” “winding down,” “angst,” “not my loss,” and my personal favorite, “paramore but fuck you.”

Lastly, what is the most recent song/album you've added to your collection? What Type of X - Jessi.

[datingintampafails]

Chapter 30: Richard*

Let me start by saying, nothing is wrong with Richard*. I match with Richard* right as the nightmare that is “the microwave” has come to a close. Now that I am mere days away from being fully vaccinated, I break the rules a little bit to give myself a headstart before I am able to actually go on the dates. I figure, what is the harm in working on getting back out there? I send a “Like” to him on Hinge, inquiring about a prompt that mentions he had broken both of his arms. The next morning, I get a reply with the story. After discussing that series of events briefly, he goes on to ask more about me and the video games I play. I step on my soapbox for a time. He tells me that he plays a video game called League of Legends, which has a reputation for having some of the most toxic players online. I ask him half-jokingly if that is his way of telling me he is toxic. He swears by his alibi of not having his microphone on when he plays with strangers, so as to not be tempted. We reminisce about Runescape, and he tells me more about some of the games he plays.

We get into the topic of pets, where he says my dog seems nice. I ask him if he has any pets where I am surprised to learn he has two snakes. We talk briefly about what it’s like having snakes, and we segue onto a conversation about television shows due to my dog having a character’s name in a show he watches, which then segued into a conversation about having coronavirus, and travel, and my changes in taste since aforementioned COVID-19.

I narrate to him a conversation I’m having with my best friend about the show of the moment, “Bridgerton,” on Netflix. Pretty randomly, he officially asks me out for drinks. I tell him I have a caveat, that it needs to be next week, as at this time I am still technically not supposed to be dating yet since I am awaiting my second COVID-19 vaccination. I make a joke that I bet he thought I was going to say I had a penis. He jokes back that he was hoping I would. I continue a joke saying I am pretty sure I don’t have one, but if I do have one it’s extremely small. We learn that we have opposing schedules, “we suck” is how I put it. I offer that in the meantime, we can text/call/video chat in order to continue getting to know each other. He sends me his number though offers that we can talk with a “different method.” Being the jester I am, I turn this into a joke of seeing how many alternate methods I can think of. A good sport, he plays along and adds a few of his own, ending in “Mongolian throat singing.” Despite the ingenious ideas we come up with, I opt to stick to contact him via text message.

Upon texting him and seeing my area code, he recognizes it as his cousins lived in that area. He grew up a couple of hours away in rural Maryland. It is late, so our transition to text is brief for now. In the morning I challenge him regarding who woke up the earliest; I win this challenge due to having a call in at work at four in the morning. We then bond over the legendary Mountain Dew Game Fuel, Citrus Cherry, that would come out at game releases; once my favorite drink, being reminded of its existence brought me anger and sadness, which I expressed I was feeling to him. We are getting along so famously, that I decided maybe I can make an exception to seeing him before my vaccine. He says he is fine either way. We start to plan our date and settle on a brewery I like near me.

Much of our texts are light-hearted jabs at each other, nothing super deep. He compliments my quirks often. He often makes jokes about having a smooth brain and sends me many diagrams. He tells me about his major in college. I then realize I don’t know what he does for a living. I ask him what his job is, that’s when he tells me he is in the Army. The stereotype for men in the military is that they usually get engaged quickly, without knowing a person for very long. Being the jokester I am, I take this opportunity to jab at him. My response to his career is, “oh sorry I don’t want to get married next month.” He says that that is why he doesn't have his job in his profile, because of the stereotypes. I joke that I have been misled to believe he had been a chill down to earth guy.

When it is the day of the date, I jokingly keep saying I am going to wear an evening gown; I mention it a couple times. When I arrive, in my skirt and crop top, I see he’s actually dressed pretty nicely and is sitting outside, wearing long khaki pants and a dress shirt. It is a decently warm day, so I hope he's okay. I compliment him, saying he looks nice and he didn't need to dress up for me. He admits that because I kept talking about the evening gown, that he thought I might have been serious, so he wanted to match my formality. I do notice over the course of the date though that he is sweating through his shirt, especially at the underarms; not the most attractive, but a person cannot help these things.

The conversation goes well, we have a nice time and I regale him with the drama in my video game community and just talk about random things. I have a couple drinks and although we weren't planning on eating dinner there, he ends up eating a burger and I opt to just "steal some fries" since I had a late lunch. He is craving dessert so we walk a block to a local ice cream place and get some ice cream as well. When we return back to where the cars were, I realize that he had Ubered there, because another joke of mine was taken seriously regarding getting super drunk. I feel bad and offer to drive him home. We get in my car and I have him put in his address into Google Maps. I drive him there and when approaching his apartment, I see a lot of construction. He instructs me where I can drop him off and suggests that I turn around in a certain lot. He gives me a hug goodbye and I drive off.

I get completely confused and lost in the construction, between closed streets and cones blocking lanes, so I get stuck in the vicinity of his apartment for five minutes before being able to find my way back to the main road. I let him know of my troubles driving, and also when I got home. He thanks me for going out and says he had a great time. Whereas I also had a good time, I found it strange he made no moves whatsoever during the night and I didn't really feel a romantic urge with him.

I get my second COVID-19 Vaccine and take a day off to recover. We still talk at least daily while he is away on his trip; while he is gone I focus a little more on the other guy I am chatting with, John*. I've told my mom of my predicament between the two men, and between her and I, I decided I'll go out with Richard* again, give him another chance. If things still aren't progressing or feelings startup, I will end it and entirely focus on John*.

Richard* asks me when he can see me again and offers to cook for me. I give him my Friday night, which is a day after I am seeing John* again as well. On Thursday, he texts me to verify, saying "I'd like to see you tomorrow, did you still want to do dinner?" I told him I meant to confirm that day. We don't talk besides that, which is good for me because I don't have to worry about getting texts from him when I'm with someone else. The day of my second date with Richard*, I text him to ask for his address again and ask for suggestions on parking, since the construction was such a fiasco for me, I'm still traumatized lightly. He tells me and after a few hours, I get some complicated news regarding my gaming community, so I ask Richard* if I can reschedule to tomorrow, Saturday. He says it is fine and so we just chat for the rest of the day.

On the day our date will actually happen, he again seems to verify the date, asking me if I'm planning on coming over "today." I snarkily replied, "yeah I don't bail, you said 730." He asks me what I want to drink, as he must be grocery shopping. I panic and say seltzers. I take a quick nap and then let him know I am headed to his apartment. When I arrive, I try to follow his parking suggestions but get confused and don't see anything. After driving around for over five minutes, I start to panic as I don't see anything. I find a random gravel lot that is in earshot of where I had dropped him off on the first date, and I call to admit defeat. I send him a photo as well to show where I am. He comes out to find me and almost walks past my car. I flash my high beams at him to indicate it's me and he hops in the car. We drive around a few minutes and luck upon a spot that is close to one of the side entrances to his apartment complex.

I follow him to his apartment, he is again dressed nicely, and I am wearing more comfortable clothes. He is wearing a nice shirt, but with jeans. We get to his apartment and it is slightly better than a typical bachelor pad, but definitely not overly showy. He is still finishing up dinner, chicken pad thai, and he gets me out a white claw to drink. We chat briefly but he starts acting weird, just off. I just sit in his gaming chair and spin around, look at his one snake, and stay quiet. In a way, I am fine with the silence, as it solidifies my unease about this going anywhere. He eventually speaks up, saying he just got a killer headache and isn't feeling well. Due to his travels, I joke about him having coronavirus.

When the food is ready, I let him serve me, I tell him to go light as I don't eat much. He had talked a lot of game regarding his pad thai being good, and unfortunately, it was pretty disappointing. He used chicken thighs, which I am not a huge fan of, and the noodles seemed almost soggy. Richard* was aware of this, however, and commented that this wasn't his best dish and had used a new kind of noodles. I don't like and say that it's just alright, at least palatable. We watch some Brooklyn 99 and eat on his couch, sitting on opposite sides of the couch. After dinner, I get an official introduction to the snakes and get to pet them, it is bizarre, but kind of cool. Definitely not as fun as playing with, say, a dog. Shortly after that, I say it's getting late and I should probably go home. He walks me back to my car, which is a need since his complex is a maze. Again, he makes no moves and gives me a hug goodbye. For me, it's easy to see that something isn't quite right here. We chat briefly, for the next few days, as I'm not ready to immediately break his heart.

When he texts me four days after our date, explicitly saying the following, I see it is a perfect opportunity to come clean:

He took things very well, and I didn't hear from him again. I commend myself for being a real human and telling people how I feel, rather than ghosting and not giving others closure. I wish more conversations could go this way. I feel bad for the guy. It isn’t his fault that I ended up “playing the game” and doing what you’re supposed to do when you’re dating, which is, not to get stuck on one person and date around. It just so happens, he ended up being the one I obviously didn’t like as much and had to sacrifice for his own good. It’s possible that only due to my extreme attraction to the other guy, that he never had a chance as it was shadowed by my feelings for someone else.

[mcwriting]

Starstruck (9)

hello it’s me again. Second to last chapter :( but I’ve got bigger things in the works

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Fandom: Tom Holland

Ship: Tom x reader

Setting: LA, London

Word Count: 2230

Warnings: mild language

Rating: K+

                            __________________________________

Tom dodged cameras and wove through crowds as he made his way through London Heathrow Airport.

He finally was home in London, but only for about a week since he’d be coming back to LA for you.

The news had obviously broken that Tom had left South Korea, so now he was being bombarded with paparazzi who still wanted to know everything about you, especially your speech four days prior.

He continued to ignore them as he got to where Tuwaine was waiting to pick them up.

The car doors slammed shut as all four boys settled themselves in, Harrison up front and the Hollands in the back. Tuwaine locked the doors, then turned around.

“Seems like we’ve got a lot to talk about, boys.”

“You have noooo idea,” Tom muttered as the others nodded eagerly.

The drive back to their south London house was comfortable to Tom after everything that had happened. They mostly strayed from talking about you in the car, instead sharing funny stories from the long-lived press tour. 

Sam decided to head back to his parents’ house after they arrived at the other boys’, ringing up an uber. He just wanted to sleep in his own bed. Their parents and Paddy had come home from the premiere before Tom went to Korea.

Once the boys were showered off and settled in, they told Tuwaine everything from the pre-release press tour before the premiere to meeting you to everything since. 

“That’s mad, Tom. So when are you going back? And how do you plan on going unseen?” Tuwaine asked.

“Well we’re gonna get back to LA on Thursday to have time to adjust again and get everything settled. I’ve paid for a couple private planes to keep things off the radar as best as I can. All of you can come if you want.”

After further discussion, they decided for only Harrison and Harry to join Tom since the others had prior commitments. 

After a couple more hours of catching up and reflecting on the past weeks, everyone finally decided to retire to their beds and hopefully get some rest.

As Tom layed down, he thought about the plan to see you again. He was nervous and excited at the same time, and went to sleep thinking one thing.

I’m coming to get ya, y/n.

                             __________________________________

As always, news of Tom’s travel back home was all over the internet with clips and pictures of him dodging through the airport being shared, you of course being tagged in those pictures by fan accounts wanting attention.

“Ughhhh I’m so tired of people tagging me in this shit like I actually care! I’m not even remotely involved in these pictures!” you exclaimed to b/f/n, who was sprawled on your bean bag chair as you laid on your stomach across a rug. 

You showed her a fan edit of Tom someone tagged you in, which was just a video transitioning between pictures of him from his press tour.

“I know. It’s so dumb like, he’s even likely to see stuff if you just pester his friends, or in your case… whatever you guys are.”

“Give me a break. We’re nothing. We just met and yeah. That’s all there is to it.”

“I don’t buy it, but whatever. I need to use your charger.”

You pointed to the bed.

“It’s over on the other side if you want it.”

B/f/n sighed dramatically, then rolled her way off the bean bag to flop onto your bed, plugging the device in. After a few minutes of silent scrolling on your phones, she piped up.

“Yo. Why does your bed smell so good? New detergent or something?”

You blushed, realizing you never told her about that little detail.

“Uh, well. It’s cologne.”

She turned her head to look directly at you, eyebrows raised cheekily.

“And why do you have cologne on your bedsheets?”

You avoided looking directly at her for a second, cringing a little.

“Well… I may have kind of left out the part of the story where Tom gave me a whole bottle of his cologne and it smelled really good so I sprayed it all over my sheets… but like no biggie right?”

She sat up.

“Yes biggie! You know exactly what Tom Holland smells like and didn’t think to tell me?”

“I forgot about it until the other day when I found the bottle in a bag of my stuff. Didn’t seem important.”

“Okay, if it’s not important, then why did you douse your bed in his scent?”

“I told you, I think it smells good. That’s it.”

“You’re really going to sit there and try to convince me of that? Everyone knows that scent memory is a really big deal, not to mention that he literally gave it to you.”

You stared each other down for almost a minute before you cracked.

“Okay, fine. It helps me sleep, alright? It takes me back to the night he spent here, which honestly was one of the best nights of my life. It just felt so nice talking to him about vulnerable things, you know? At the time I thought I could trust him, and maybe a part of me wants to remember that side of him.”

B/f/n nodded as you finished.

“I get it. What he did sucks, but you can’t let that ruin the good memories you do have. Things will work themselves out. They always do. You just need to remember that you’re a boss bitch and no matter what happens, you’re gonna be alright.”

“Thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

“Anytime. Now let’s forget about him and figure out where we want to get our nails done next week.”

                             __________________________________

It was now Tuesday, and you and b/f/n sat in adjacent pedicure chairs, trying to lean back peacefully as yours vibrated violently in the name of a “massage.”

After you both struggled to not laugh while the nail techs exfoliated your feet, you were now relaxed and still as they began to actually polish your toenails.

You looked over to see b/f/n smiling at her phone.

“Who’s got you acting up?” you asked. She looked up in surprise.

“It’s no one. Catherine just sent me something funny on Instagram.”

“Oh, okay. Send it to me.”

In reality, she had been talking to Harrison and Tom about Friday, sending them pics of you in your dress the prior week and learning of their plans to get to LA on Thursday morning. 

To cover for herself, though, b/f/n scrolled through her dm’s with Catherine, looking for something she’d received but never sent to you.

                             __________________________________

Wednesday in London, Tom, Harrison, and Harry sat around the dining room recapping the plan for the rest of the week.

“Okay, so we’re gonna get there pretty early tomorrow morning and then I arranged for us to stay at an AirBnb under b/f/n’s name but obviously I’m paying for it. Since none of us are 25, I couldn’t get a regular rental car, but I talked to Audi and they said they’d loan me another car as long as we post some pictures with it.”

“Won’t that defeat the purpose of laying low if we’re plastering our faces with the car online? It won't be hard to distinguish London from pretty much anywhere else,” Harry claimed.

“They said as long as we get the pictures up before we leave town, we’re good. We’ll just have to put it in the calendar so I don’t forget.”

Harry took that as his cue to put it in the calendar right then.

“What about the actual event? I know you said you got in touch with them,” Harrison brought up.

“I’m glad you asked, mate. They were down for letting us make our appearance a surprise, so they’ll have staff sneak us in the back and wait until b/f/n gives us the go-ahead. They’re gonna introduce me and I’ll give a quick word and then… hopefully y/n will let me talk to her.”

The group got everything in order and loaded their bags into Tuwaine’s car once again for him to drive them to the private jet hangars.

After saying their goodbyes again and loading up onto the plane, the boys were in the air, headed west. They would be stopping in New York to change planes, and got comfortable for the almost 8 hour flight.

By the time they got to New York, the boys were exhausted going through customs. They were happy to find that so far no one had seemed to leak the fact that they had left London and were now in the states.

They boarded the next plane and prepared for the 6 hour flight, this time planning to get sleep as it was overnight and they’d be arriving in the morning.

The sun was beginning to rise over Los Angeles as the plane touched down.

“Tom, we’re here,” Harry said, shaking his brother awake as the plane taxied. 

Tom blinked his eyes a few times to adjust to the light, looking out the window. 

The boys deplaned on the tarmac and sat tiredly in the small airport’s lobby as they waited for someone to drop off the car. 

Tom noticed one woman at the desk looking over at him frequently. He was afraid she would end up putting him all over the internet, so he got up and came to the desk.

“Hi there.”

She looked at him, startled.

“Um, hello.”

“I couldn’t help but notice you looking over at us. Would you happen to be a fan?” Tom asked politely. She blushed.

“Yes, actually, I am.”

“Would you like a picture?” Tom offered. He knew he looked horrible from his long journey but needed to know she wouldn’t go around telling everyone about meeting him.

“That would be incredible! I was too afraid to ask.”

Tom called Harry over to take the picture on her phone, then took it from the younger brother. Tom noticed Harrison carrying a couple bags out the door to a car.

“That’s a good one! I only ask that you try to keep this to yourself? At least until tomorrow evening? I’m on a bit of a secret mission, and I don’t quite want the public to know I’m here, yet.” 

The girl’s eyes widened.

“Of course! I’d hate to ruin anything for you.”

“Awesome, thank you so much. And it was quite lovely meeting you, I look forward to seeing those pictures again one day.”

With that, Tom was out the door and on his way to the spot they had rented out for the trip.

                             __________________________________

B/f/n woke up Thursday to work out again and saw there was an Instagram notification on her lock screen. It was Harrison (or maybe Tom, who knew who she was actually talking to).

We made it to the AirBnb. Thanks again for putting it under your name.

She saw it had been sent about an hour prior, so she replied.

No worries. I haven’t seen anything online about you being in the US, so it seems like you’re good so far

We’ll try to keep a low profile. We’re mostly trying to adjust to the time again so Tom isn’t falling asleep at the formal tomorrow night

B/f/n snorted. She figured it really was Harrison that she was talking to.

At the boy’s rented house, they were sitting around drinking black coffee to stay awake for the day. Eventually, they ran outside and took pictures with the car, being careful to watch that no one was looking at them.

As the morning went on, they quickly came to an unfortunate realization.

There was no food in the house, and they couldn’t just go out and get it. Delivery wasn’t the best bet either considering someone would have to answer the door.

So with stomachs growling, they messaged b/f/n again, asking her to pick up some groceries to hold them over for the day.

You’re lucky I’m not with y/n right now. Just send me a list and I’ll bring it over asap

It took her over an hour to get to the store, find everything on the list, and take it to the house. Her stomach fluttered when she pulled into the driveway as she was finally meeting her idol for real.

The door swung open before she could knock.

“Oh thank God you’re finally here, I’m starving,” Harrison said , taking the bags from her hands. “Come in, come in. Don’t need anyone seeing us.”

She stepped in the door to find the other two sitting on the couch. They greeted her starstruck self. 

“Oh, wow. Hi. It’s nice to finally meet you in person,” she eventually spit out, looking at them in amazement.

She ended up spending almost an hour conversing with them, Tom paying her back for the groceries and them finalizing the details for the upcoming day.

She stood in the doorway preparing to leave.

“Well, I’ll see you all tomorrow. I don’t know what she’ll do, but good luck either way.”

“Thanks, b/f/n, that means a lot. And thanks for all the help you’ve been. Without you, I don’t know what I would have done.”

                            __________________________________

A/N: honestly I’m kinda sad that this is almost over. I started it over a year ago now and I’ve really enjoyed writing it. Hopefully I’ll put out the last chapter next week and then will begin scheduling “the marriage project.” Love you guys!

TAG LIST: @marvel-lously, @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @dreamyvans, @lisannehus, @honeymoonpeter, @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven, @chenellearose, @photoshopart15, @parkeret, @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch, @racewife2004, @joyleenl

To be added to my story or permanent tag list, pls send a message or ask

[twinklecheeks]

Friends With Benefits (Jeff Wittek Imagine) Part 2

Summary: Jeff and Y/N have been hooking up for a while. The whole vlog squad assumes they’re dating and Y/N does too but Jeff doesn’t like labels. He eventually starts to express interest in Natalie.

Note: Planning on making this a multiple part series, depending on how good it does. You’re 21 & Latina in this (maybe) series. Also, I’d like to apologize for the typos, if there is any. I’m just illiterate lmao.

Warnings! pregnancy, abortion? mentions of sex.

Part 1

Word Count: 2.4k

Y/n doesn’t know what to do. A million scenarios were going on in your head. “What if I tell him and he doesn’t want it? What if I never tell him and I get an abortion? I mean my body, my choice, right? What if I leave youtube, pull off a Kylie Jenner and reveal it to the world when it’s born? What if I put it up for adoption? Would I choose a closed adoption or an open adoption?” As all these scenarios are running through your head, the doctor asks if you want pictures. “Ummm yeah sure.” This just feels like a nightmare to y/n. The doctor is ready to discharge you and you take an uber home. You feel a buzz in your pocket and it was a text from David. “Hey you should come over and film tonight. We’re messing around with helium and stuff that messes with your voice.” You were about to say yes until you remembered that you were with child. Helium is probably not the best for pregnancy…. “Sorry I can’t come today. Not feeling too well.�� “Damn maybe tomorrow. I pulled a prank of Jason’s new tesla and I need some reactions.” “Sure, I’ll be there.” You finally arrive home and you just feel super overwhelmed. Your anxiety already fucks with you at random times and now add the pregnancy hormones, that just sounds like a recipe for disaster. You decide to text Carly and Erin in y’alls gc. They have basically been you best friends since you’ve been a part of the vlog squad but you don’t know if they’ll be pissed once you reveal your secret relationship w/ Jeff. “Heyy, can you guys come over rn? I have to tell you guys a secret and you’re the only people I can trust at the moment.” Erin: “Sure. Well be there in like an hour or so. Carly and I are filming a bit with David. Probably won’t take long.” “Okay great. See you later.” Carly reads the messages from her phone and whispers “sounds serious, what do you think she’s gonna tell us?” “I don’t know. Just hope she isn’t dying or something.”

You say to yourself, “Since Carly and Erin are gonna be here in an hour, I should get pregnancy tests from the store. Just hope no fans recognize me.” You try to dress incognito and you remembered you had some expensive ass wigs in you closet (you’re a boujee ass college student lol) Once you glue the wig on, you get in your tesla (like the tesla Carly has) and you head to target. You have your hood up and sunglasses on like you’re some sort of fbi agent or something. You head to the aisle the pregnancy tests are in and see the condoms right by there and you mumble to yourself “if you woulda just taken the time to come to target and buy those, you wouldn’t be in this mess you dumb bitch.” You grab a couple of the electronic pregnancy tests cause like my bio says “i radiate dumb bitch energy.” You get home, take off the wig and read the text that says they’re 5 minutes away.

*Carly and Erin pov*

“How much you wanna bet that she has a thing for someone in the squad.” “CARLY.”

*Y/n pov*

You hear a knock at the door “heyyy” you say in an awkward tone. Erin sees the hospital bracelets on your wrist. “Oh god you are dying” Y/n: “ERIN WHAT THE-  NO ARE YOU CRAZY” All of you head to the couch and you have a hard time telling them so you say it really fast “SooooIjustfoundouti’mpregantandyou’regonnabeauntsmaybe.” Carly didn’t catch any of that but all Erin heard were the two big words. Both of them start screaming out stuff like “YOU’RE PREGNANT” “WHAT” “WHO’S IS IT.”  Y/n: “Okay okay okay. I’m gonna tell you guys everything.” So you ended up telling them the saga of you and Jeff’s relationship. Carly: “ITS. JEFF’S.” Y/n:“That’s all you have to say?” Erin: “You have to take another test. This can’t be right.” You go to the bathroom and 5 minutes later, the test says ‘pregnant.’ Erin: “ummm how about you go to a doctor so they can run some tests.” Y/n:“I already got a blood test done in the ER. Nothing is more accurate than a blood test.” Carly: “when are you due.” Y/n:“Early April I think.” Erin:“So you’re not gonna make it to my wedding?” Y/n:“Oh shit you get married in April. Dammit.” Carly: “So what are you gonna do?” Y/n:“I honestly have no idea. I just feel like he’s gonna deny everything and say its not his. He’s the only guy I’ve been sleeping w/ since New Years.” Erin: “well, whatever you decide, we’ll support you. Hopefully I’ll have a newborn baby to be my ring bearer or flower girl.” You smiled just thinking about that. Before you knew it, It started to get dark and both of them left. You didn’t want to be alone tonight, so you decided to facetime one of your other best friends. Y/n:“Hey Stass. You wanna have a girl’s night? Stassie: Sorry, I’m already having a girl’s night at Kylie’s house. You hear Kylie yell in the background “YOU CAN COME TO MY HOUSE.” Y/n: “Thanks, I’ll be there in a bit.” Two years ago, you would’ve never thought that you’d be friends with Kylie Jenner. You two hit it off when she invited the vlog squad to a roller rink to celebrate her becoming a billionaire.

You arrived at her mansion, finding both of them upstairs sitting on the floor in the nursery, playing with Stormi. You’re thinking about telling Kylie and ask her for advice. She’d completely understand; she had a baby at 20 and the whole world had eyes on her not knowing whether she was or wasn’t pregnant. You don’t mind if Stass knows because she helped keep Kylie’s pregnancy a secret, so you know she won’t tell anyone. Y/n:“I have to talk to you guys about something.” Kylie: “Sure. About what?” Y/n:“I’m pregnant.” Kylie and Stass: “YOU’RE WHAT.” Y/n:“Why is it so surprising that I’m pregnant.” Kylie: “who’s is it.” Stass: “it’s probably Jeff’s.” Your eyes go wide as she said that, Stass: “and just by the look on your face, you just confirmed it.” Kylie: “is Jeff the fit one with the New York accent?” “Yeah.” Kylie: “Ooooo he’s hot. So what about pregnancy did you wanna talk about?” Before you ask about pregnancy, you had to tell the whole saga for the second time today. Y/n:“I just don’t know what I should do. How did you feel when you found out?” Kylie: “well, I was shocked at first but then I got excited. Did I plan on getting pregnant so young? No. But I know I’ve always wanted to be a mom. Yeah, motherhood came earlier than expected but I honestly can’t imagine my life without Stormi. Hiding it from the public wasn’t easy but I’m lucky that I had people I could trust to hide my secret. And if Jeff doesn’t accept the baby as his, then screw him. He’ll look like the asshole for leaving. So what do you want to do?” Y/n:“I think I want to keep it a secret but that gonna be really hard because 1. I’m a youtuber and people are gonna see me gain weight, 2. I’m a college student and I have to go on campus for classes. Stass: “Can you look and see if they’re offering online courses for the classes you need to take?” Y/n:“Probably but I don’t want to die of boredom and stay in my house all the time.” Kylie: “I didn’t stay in my house all the time. I just had a lot of security around me 24/7. I bought more cars and switched between them all the time so the paparazzi would be confused. I made sure to wear baggy clothes all the time. I really didn’t start to show that much until I was almost 5 months pregnant.” Y/n:“I’d be 5 months by the time the semester ends for winter break. Should I risk it? Kylie: “I don’t know. Every body is different.” Y/n:“Thanks for the advice Ky.” Kylie: “No problem. You can always come to me for baby advice. I can help you prep. Stormi might not be right baby to start off practicing with but you’re lucky Kim just had a baby in May.” Y/n:“Are you sure she’d be okay with you borrowing Psalm to teach me how to be a mom?” Kylie: “Are you kidding. She’d love it. She has 4 kids under 6 years old. She needs a break. Oh and when it’s time to find out the gender, you HAVE to let me plan the gender reveal and baby shower.” Y/n:“haha okay.” Kylie then takes a vid of y’all playing with Stormi and posts it on her insta story captioning it ‘girls night❤️’

You wake up the next morning not feeling great at all. Kylie: “Drink ginger ale or really bitter lemonade. It helped me with my morning sickness.” Y/n:“Thanks. I should get going. I have to get to class in a couple of hours. I’ll text you later.” Kylie & Stass: “call us as soon as you figure out what you’re gonna do” Y/n:“k, bye”

Y/n talking to herself while driving home:

It probably wasn’t the best decision telling 4 people that I’m pregnant cause I’m not past the 1st trimester yet but I just couldn’t keep it in. I had to vent to someone! I’m scared of telling Jeff but I’m 1000x times more scared of telling my parents. When should I tell them? I mean, I’m flying to Seattle next month for a couple days for my moms birthday…. is that a bad time to tell them both?? I mean, my mom has been begging for grandchildren for the past couple of years. There was one time in high school where I was typing an essay in my room and my mom randomly comes in and says “mija, cuando tu tienes un hijo, nombrarlo después de mí” like who tf says that to a 17 year old? What was I gonna do today? I have class later but- Oh shit. I said I was going to David’s today to film a prank reaction. I hope I don’t have to be in the same clip as Jeff. Luckily your class is only an hour long and so you got home, quickly showered and went to class.

 As you got out of class, you hear a ding from your phone. David: “Are you on you way?” Y/n:“Yeah I’m like 30 minutes away.” As you’re driving down David’s street, you see 4 people. David, Jason’s mom, Erin and?.... Of course it would be Jeff. You get out of your tesla and David is getting the camera ready. He opens the gate and you see Jason dressed as Carmelita, showing his genitals all over the car. Everybody is screaming. “NOOOOO OH MY GOD” Jeff: “HOW CAN YOU SHOW THAT TO HIS MOTHER?” Jason’s mom is laughing hysterically. After a couple of minutes, he stopped recording and invited us all in. You haven’t been to David’s house since the incident with Jeff but you were acting as if nothing happened. You were just acting really quiet around Jeff because you’re literally pregnant with his child and have no idea how to tell him. Jeff: “Hey y/n haven’t seen you around lately” all you said was ‘hey” while looking at your phone. Jeff: “What you’re not even gonna look at me? You think cause you’re hanging out with Kylie Jenner, you’re too good for us?” Y/n: “Us? You’re literally making no fucking sense rn, I’ve talked and hung out with everyone except you. Plus why would you care? You kicked me to the curb like I was a piece of trash. Not sorry that I wanna be treated right.” Jeff pulls you to the backyard. Y/n:“Get the fuck off me” Jeff: “why the fuck are you acting like this?” Y/n:“like what? A person who’s finally standing up for herself? I don’t need you and why would you care what i’m doing? Last thing I remember is that you’re with Natalie. I hope you treating her like an actual person, unlike how you treated me. Playing around and fucking me like I was you’re toy.” Jeff: “You consented.” Y/n:“Yeah but now I realize I was dumb as fuck saying yes so many times.” At this moment, you were contemplating whether you should just tell him. You were about to tell him until the last sentence he said left you livid. Jeff: “You said yes cause you were desperate sweetheart. You fucked like a whore. I probably wasn’t the only one you were sleeping with.” At this point, you just wanted to run him over with a car. You didn’t want to be the stereotypical raging Latina so all you said as you were walking away was “Goodbye Jeff.” You didn’t even turn around. Everybody in the house from David, Jason’s mom and Erin heard every single word. On the drive home you made your decision. You’re not telling Jeff it’s his and you’re raising this baby alone. Since you’re still in the first trimester, you’ll keep it to yourself just a little bit longer before you tell the rest of the vlog squad.

*One Month later*

Y/n is officially past the 1st trimester. I’m now 13 weeks. You look in the mirror and see a tiny little bump forming. You telling your parents last week wasn’t the best… Your mom was excited but disappointed; your dad couldn’t even look at you. Your older siblings stuck by you. But now that you have the biggest obstacle out of the way, you have to tell the vlog squad... I wonder how this will go...

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

I’m surprised at how many people liked chapter 1! It was confusing for me switching back from saying you & y/n but I think I did better in this part. Oh and I’m not sure if I’ll be writing as much as I am in the future. I think the minimum will be 1k words but I’ll probably write more than that.

Oh and just a heads up, I’m starting school at the end of the month! I’ll try to release as many chapters as I can write in the next 3 weeks.

Taglist: @elvlogsquad @siemprestan @zavidzobrik @irisindigonightmare

[abundanceofsoph]

SkyFire 1: Chapter 19

New Year’s Eve in London 2014 & early January 2015

Word count: 1.8k

SkyFire 1 MASTERLIST

In the days between Christmas and the New Year, Aurora and Harry spent many hours in the conservatory off the back of the house, watching the snow softly fall in the back garden. Harry would occasionally pull out his acoustic guitar and entertain Rori while she sketched the scene, or they would simply cuddle up under a blanket and talk. The sense of time standing still enveloped the house and allowed for the young couple to remain wrapped up in each other, revelling in the cosy winter atmosphere. On the afternoon of New Year’s Eve, Harry loaded up the car and they said goodbye to Anne and Robin before driving down to London. They arrived well after sunset and while Harry carried in their bags as soon as they arrived at his house, Aurora headed to the bathroom to shower and wash her hair to get ready for the party they were both attending later that evening. She was mostly finished, her hair washed, and legs shaved, when the glass door opened, and Harry joined her under the warm spray.

“Mind if I join?” he murmured, pressing himself against his girlfriend’s back, taking the loofa from her hand and finishing scrubbing the body wash across her stomach and back. Rori chuckled as she turned in his arms, kissing him deeply as he tipped his head under the water to wet his shoulder length curls. She pulled back from the kiss to rub shampoo into his hair, smiling happily as she recalled seeing online that the fans had been calling it his Prince Harry hair.

After they’d both rinsed off and stepped out of the shower, they wrapped themselves in large fluffy towels and Aurora set about drying and styling her hair before getting started on her make up. By the time she was finished and slipping into her skinny jeans and lacey blouse, she turned to see Harry walking out of his large walk-in closet, black skinny jeans hugging his legs and a black button up short open at the collar.

“Help me with the buttons?” Rori asked him, and he stepped forward, pushing her long curls out of the way to button up the back of her shirt. He placed a soft kiss on her bare shoulder when he finished, looking to the mirror in front of them.

“You look beautiful,” he told her softly, earning a beaming smile in return. “Car should be here soon.”

They both turned towards the door, Aurora scooping her clutch purse of the end of the bed as she passed and they made their way down the stairs to the front door, slipping on their winter coats before walking outside and climbing into the waiting uber to take them into the city.

The car dropped them off at one of the many docks along the Thames and they made their way down towards the medium sized boat waiting at the waters edge. The party onboard was already in full swing by the time the pair made it aboard and Rori found herself recognising most of the faces in the crowd, despite having never meeting most of them before. There were other singers, song-writers, producers and other behind the scenes members of the British music scene. Harry soon had a glass in his hand as they pushed through the crowd on the back deck, looking for their friends. Eventually they spotted Louis and Liam towards the back of the boat and exchanged hugs.

“Where’s Niall and Zayn at?” Rori asked as she pulled back from Liam’s arms.

“Zayn bailed to hang with Perrie and Niall’s on his way,” Liam replied.

They continued to chat, laughing as they filled each other in on the Christmas’ with their families until Niall finally arrived a little over half an hour later. The boat pushed from the wharf around 10.30 and the party was swarming on the decks as the clock neared midnight. Since she wasn’t drinking, Aurora was feeling the chill of the winter wind blowing up off the water and headed into the spacious cabin for a while to warm up, knowing she would want to go back out when the fireworks started at midnight. She was sitting on a bench seat along a long bank of windows looking out at the city sliding past on the riverbank as she slowly felt her hands warming back up when Nick Grimshaw sat down next to her.

“Hello love,” he greeted, throwing an arm around her shoulders when she returned his greeting.

“Not drinking?” he asked, noticing the half empty bottle of water next to her.

“I don’t drink,” Rori replied simply.

“Probably a good idea,” he chuckled. “I think everyone else is gonna be feeling pretty miserable tomorrow morning. Mind if I ask why?”

“My dad’s a recovering alcoholic,” Rori replied, shocked that she’d been asked given that not many people had noticed over the years that she didn’t drink, and even fewer had ever bothered to find out why. “Apparently I’m genetically predisposed to addiction, so I just decided not to tempt fate.”

“So, you’ve never had a drink?” Nick asked, not shocked, but certainly curious.

“I tried a sip of Harry’s champagne once but otherwise nope.”

“Huh,” Nick replied, sipping at his own drink and the conversation turned to other things.

Aurora was still sitting there with Nick when Harry found her half an hour later.

“There you are,” he cheered as he stumbled over to her and she could tell that while he wasn’t completely trashed yet, he was well on his way to drunk and she laughed when he fell onto her lap as he attempted to sit next to her. “Sorry love,” he drawled, sliding sideways, his leg still hoked over hers as he sat beside her, his arms wrapping around her waist, “The boats a bit rocky and I don’t think I’ve got my sea legs yet.”

“Yeah, the boats rocky,” Rori parroted sarcastically. “That’s definitely why you can’t walk straight.”

“Of course,” Harry agreed, snuggling his head against her shoulder and Rori laughed deeply, always enjoying how clingy Harry was when he was drunk. She placed soft kisses along his hairline as he hummed, and Nick excused himself to go find someone to dance with him back out on the deck. “Couldn’t find you,” Harry murmured, “got worried about you.”

“I’m sorry babe,” Rori said, rubbing her hand up and down the length of his back. “I just got a bit cold, so I came inside to warm up.”

“I could warm you up,” Harry offered, lifting his head to kiss up along her neck towards her jaw.

“That’s very sweat of you H, but I’m not having sex with you on a crowded boat,” Rori chuckled. Harry pouted and returned to leaning against her shoulder, his arms tightening around her waist instead.

“You’re such a buzzkill,” he mumbled into her skin.

“I love you too,” Rori laughed in reply. “How about we go find the boys. It’s almost midnight.”

Harry agreed and Rori quickly moved his arm around her shoulder and held on to his waist as they headed back out onto the deck. She managed to keep her tipsy boyfriend on his feet as he stumbled along and was grateful when she quickly found Louis and Niall amongst the dancing party guests.

Liam was nowhere in sight when the countdown began, a cool wind whipping through the partiers aboard the boat. Louis and Niall raised their glasses to the sky as they screamed out the count with those around them, drunkenly kissing each other on the cheek as the clock hit midnight and Harry pulled Aurora to him, kissing her deeply. The night sky lit up with the fireworks display, the colours bursting and reflecting off the surface of the Thames below them.

“Happy New Year, H,” Aurora whispered when the pulled apart. “I’ve got a good feeling about 2015.”

“Me too, love. Me too,” Harry replied, smiling broadly down at his girlfriend as the party continued on around them.

xXx

Harry and Aurora were wrapped tightly around each other in Harry’s bed, savouring the final hours before Aurora's flight when her phone started ringing on the bedside table. Harry was closer so he reached for it, passing it over and she briefly saw Marks name and face before she pressed it to her ear, her cheek still flush against Harry’s bare chest. 

“Have you been online today?” he asked.

“Hello to you too Mark,” Rori chuckles, “and no I haven’t. I’ve been a little busy.”

“Well you need to,” her agent replied. “The response to the Rascal Flatts cover you posted a few days ago is great. Everyone loved it, including Rascal Flatts.”

“I’m sorry, what now?” Rori gasped, earning a questioning look from Harry at her change in tone.

“They tweeted out a link to your video and they want to collaborate with you for their next album,” Mark explained, a smile clear in his voice as he pictured her excited expression.

“Holy shit,” Rori said. “Holy shit. Holy fucking shit Mark!” She placed the call on to speaker, opening up twitter and scrolling through her mentions until she found the one she was looking for.

>RascalFlatts: So incredible to find out that the wonderfully talented @.aurorastark covered our song Riot. You absolutely blew us away Aurora and if you ever wanted to come down to Ohio to write with us, we would love to have you. 

“I don’t even know how to process this,” Rori said, not sure if she was speaking to Harry or Mark or just speaking out loud for the sake of it. She was freaking out and started scrolling through the replies to the tweet.

>AuroraFan77: Aurora and country music was the crossover I didn’t know I was missing from my life

>RascalFlattsFan8: every pop collab they’ve done has been incredible, so I’d been keen for this @.taurenwells @.justinbieber @.natashabdnfield & now @.aurorastark

“Do you want to do it?” Mark asked when she fell silent.

“Obviously.”

“OK well I’ll reach out and see if we can lock down a time for you to fly to Ohio. You don’t have a lot of free time though. You’re still planning to join Harry on tour as soon as classes finish?”

“I am, yeah,” Rori agreed.

“I think we’ve got some free time around the Ohio shows, Mark,” Harry butted in. “I’ll send you the tour schedule to see if you can fit something in.”

“Thanks Harry,” Mark said. “Anyway, you too enjoy the rest of your day and I’ll talk to you in a few days Rori.”

“Talk to you soon Mark.”

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

[jhsbrat]

stories that never were pt. 1

taehyung is the campus ig thot and full-time asshole. you’re the bitch he underestimated.

genre: stories that never were pt. 1

word count: 952

warnings: fuck boy tae, bitchy oc, no one’s nice here lol  

“That wasn’t what you said when you were taking my dick last night, baby!” Taehyung calls out from the doorway of the frat house.

You’re already at the curb, hand on the door handle of the Uber you called ten minutes ago, when you pause to listen to the chorus of shocked gasps and whispered “oooohs” from the peanut gallery that had formed around you. The booming trap music that minutes before been reverberating the walls of the house (probably guaranteeing another noise complaint and possible eviction notice) had quite literally scratched to a stop. Tongue pressed against your cheek, you can almost hear the smirk the blue-haired boy must have drawn out across his perfect face without needing to see.

You know that feral kind of anger when your vision goes red? Everything vibrates and you feel like one long, exposed nerve? The uncontrollable, pushed to the edge sort of fury that offers no return to sanity, where you’re liable to commit murder and totally black it out?  

You pick your head up and roll your shoulders back before spinning around on one shiny, black Ferragamo heel (worth more than the dilapidated piece of shit excuse of a house Beta Tau Sigma call their humble abode, thank you very much) to strut back up to the boy still standing there surrounded by his brothers.  

“You’re totally right, baby, that wasn’t what I was saying last night.” You simper sweetly, coiling up against Taehyung, his sneer faltering slightly at your acridly saccharine tone.

“Because I wasn’t saying anything at all, right honey? Cuz you did all the dirty talking for both of us, didn’t you?” Your glossy peach lips stretch into a grin and you reach your arms up to loop them around his neck, inching ever closer. Wolf whistles sound around the two of you and there are a few snickers here and there. Taehyung’s sneer has completely dropped from his face, however, and his back has gone rigidly straight, wary of what would come out of your mouth next.

He probably just thought I was going to just go crying home, huh. You pick up a dainty, pink-polished fingernail and trace it down his neck, following the line of his strained jugular vein and watch his Adam’s apple bob. His friends shift a little nearer and you’re glad they’ll be able to hear what you were going to say next loud and clear.  

“I still remember the words you said. Or really, I should say, the sounds you made. If it weren’t for the bright blue fuck up of a hairstyle you claim as a ‘fashion choice’, I genuinely would have mistaken you for Moby Dick. You sounded like a goddamned beached whale, desperately clinging to the bed and whining after I had to get on top because, and I quote, the skin on your knees are ‘too sensitive to rub against anything not 100% silk blend’.”

His eyes have widened and your smile has become positively wolfish at this point, teeth bared like you’re ready for a fresh kill, as you continue on your tirade.

“I guess I can’t fault you too much though. I’m sure you’re just used to having an insecure freshman in your bed, with a bush that would make a chia pet jealous because they haven’t yet been introduced to the concept of a razor, whimpering their undying adulation at you and taking your limp dick while frothing at the mouth like some sort of great supine, protoplasmic, invertebrate jelly bean. I mean, who wouldn’t if they’re used having the sad sacks of shit you call your frat brothers as sex partners, whose first fucks were probably some poor cantaloupe they found in their mother’s kitchen that didn’t deserve the Timothée Chalamet treatment done to them and after 22 years of life, have still yet to discover the female g-spot.”  

You turn to address the last line to the row of men circled near the two of you, ecstatic to see their mouths gaped open in surprise and a few of their faces bubbling red. Dropping your arms from Taehyung shoulders, you step back and raise your voice a little more (a totally unnecessary move since everyone that wasn’t listening before, sure as shit is now) to speak to the small crowd formed around you.  

“I, however, serve grade A, certified fresh, most bomb pussy and am accustomed to more than the toothpick you call your sorry excuse for a penis spearing into me for a good two minutes before jizzing and releasing a shriek like E.T. calling back home. And if you think that just because you have a couple people who’d prefer to watch anime girls have sex over interacting with actual human beings following you online makes you some sort of big deal, I would really love to be the first person to break it to you that you’re nothing more than the poor man’s Christian Yu. Just in case I haven’t been absolutely clear up until this point, Taehyung,” you look over your shoulder at him, flipping your hair back to see his eyes as wide as saucers and ear tips flaming. “Your stroke game makes my metaphorical balls itch.”  

Offering a small shrug, you paste a contemplative look on your face and slowly revolve in a circle to make eye contact with each person watching the show. “But don’t worry, I’m a good person. I donate to charity and you can consider yourself my good deed for this month. So the next time a higher life form, such as myself, deigns to even let you touch them, I strongly suggest you sit quietly and gaze in breathless fucking wonder.”

e/n: hehe

[lovemesomesurveys]

1. When is the last time that you experienced rejection–literal or imagined? When I asked my doggo for kisses and she turned her away. :( Hahah. 2. When you are feeling down are you more likely to cheer yourself up by shopping, eating, or drinking? I just sulk in it, really. 3. Do you think there will be a time when our current age of rapid innovation comes to a standstill? What do you think is the limit of human technological advancement? I do wonder about that. Sometimes it’s like what more can they possibly come up with, ya know? What will be the next big thing? 4. Have you or would you ever subscribe to (or work for) a grocery home delivery service? What do you think of so-called “contract” work that is done through apps such as Uber(Eats) or TaskRabbit? I think stuff like UberEats, Postmastes, Doordash, etc are great. I wouldn’t work for them cause I don’t drive, but they’re quite convenient. Wal-Mart offers something where you can put in a order online for your groceries and then you just pull up in the designated parking spaces at a given time and someone will bring them out to you. My mom and I have used that service a couple times. 5. In hindsight, what was the most misguided/unhelpful assignment you had to do in school or college? Uhhh. I mean, I feel like there were a few.

6. Is it easy for you to identify that you have or haven’t emotionally matured throughout your life? What are some of the signifiers that bring you to this conclusion? I don’t really know where to start or how to go about this right now. 7. Has your (current or past) partner ever said or done anything that gave you pause? How did you recover? I mean, Joseph’s behavior and actions made me do that a lot, but I just ignored them for a long time. 8. On any blogs or social media you may have, do you try to maintain a certain aesthetic or persona? Is this consistent across platforms or just specific to one? On here I’m just being me. What you get is the real deal, which means yes, I really am that lame as I come across. 9. Is there an artist or celebrity whom you admire for their craft but take issue with their personality or politics? Yeah, a few. 10. What is the last party or event you were invited to but declined? Why? Are there certain events that you might be invited to which you are likely to decline? A Christmas party a friend threw. They’ve had a few parties that I’ve declined. I just haven’t been up for it. 11. Imagine your life three years from now as if things have gone perfectly, better than you would typically predict. What do you see? Wow. Well, my health would have improved, physically and mentally first and foremost. I would be finally getting it together figuring things out. I’d have a social life again. 12. What about your personality makes you good at your job? Alternatively, why do you find yourself uniquely suited for or drawn to your ideal career path? No job. 13. Do you find it valuable or important to respect those in positions of authority simply because of their position? Does this vary based on what that position is? Yes. I don’t think that means they should get to abuse their status and take advantage of people, but otherwise yes I think they should be given respect. 14. Do you find that you often desire and/or enjoy sex? If not, why not and how do you negotiate those feelings with your partner? If so, what is it that you enjoy about it in particular? Virgin here. 15. Do you have any particular hobbies or habits that you have curated in order to better yourself or to change your self image? What are some lifestyle choices you might like to pick up? Hmm.

[marvel-ous-fan]

A Strange Encounter (Doctor Strange x Reader) Chapter 2

Summary: You are just an average girl in the Big Apple but one day everything changes when you meet a very interesting and rather… strange man at a bar.

A/N: I just want to thank you in advanced for reading this, it is very appreciated, let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters :)

chapter 1 

read on AO3

warnings: excessive fluff(??)

word count: 1836

Previously in A Strange Encounter - Chapter 1

"Um excuse me," you started to follow your terrible friend as she walked towards the door, "how am I supposed to get home?!? You drove me here remember?!?!?" you were starting to get very annoyed with Bianca as she walked away.

She looked at Stephen and then back to you, "You'll find a way." and with that she was out the door.

You looked back over at Stephen who was chuckling as he took a swig of his beer. "That's quite a friend you got there."

You sat back down next to him signaling the bartender to get another drink, "She really is something..." you said as you sat down and began your night.

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

“Wait wait wait, hold up a second, you’re really telling me you took a bullet out of a man's brain, who somehow wasn’t even dead? I don’t believe any of this.” you exclaimed leaning back against the bar, “no, I don’t buy it.” You were surprised at yourself for actually staying engaged and interested in this medical story, and the ten that came before. You had never been this engaged in any of Bianca’s stories and you weren’t sure if it was because his stories were more high stakes or because of the fact that you found him to be much more attractive than Bianca.

“Pfft,” Stephen stammered over his words, “I am wounded in your lack of faith in me, I’ll have you know that story is completely true, in fact I have the bullet to prove it if you want to see.” and with that he started digging through his coat pocket.

“Ew ew ew no, please no,” you said in a panicked laugh as you fumble to stop his hands, “I don’t want to see something that used to be in a mans head.”

He laughed at you and took his hands out of his pocket, “good because I was totally bluffing.” he said as he laughed at you and the flustered face you still had.

“Hey!” you yelled at him as you playfully punched him in the arm, “if you lied to me about that how am I supposed to trust that all those stories were true.” you asked him, almost challenging him.

He grabbed his arm jokingly in pain acting as if you really had the power in that tiny punch to hurt him. “Trust me, I never lie sweetheart,” he took a sip of his drink, “except maybe this one time.”

You looked at him with wide eyes, “Okay I'm just gonna pretend you didn’t just call me sweetheart…” you said trailing off your sentence as you looked away laughing nervously.

“Well pardon me but what am I supposed to call you, we’ve been sitting here for over an hour and you still haven’t told me your name.” you chuckled at this remark, realising you never formally introduce yourself to him, but instead of giving up that valuable information you decided to keep the banter going.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so arrogant and didn’t spend the past two hours talking about yourself you would have gotten to know me.” you said laughing at the hurt look on his face.

“Alrighty then, enough about me let’s get to know…” he motioned his hand at you, “now this is the part where you say your name.”

You chuckled at him and obliged. “It’s (Y/N).”

“Ah, (Y/N), just (Y/N)? Like… Adele? Or Aristotle?” he chuckled at his poor attempt to make you laugh.

“Does that joke ever get laughs?” you giggled as you made fun of him.

“You know people at the hospital find me very funny.” he stated trying to save his ego.

“Well maybe it’s because you’re in a position of power and not actually funny.” you jabbed back at him as you watched him grab his chest as if you had wounded him.

“I am genuinely hurt by that comment, but I can forgive you if you give me your last name.”

“And what are you going to do with that vital information hmm? Stalk me online?” you asked him as you raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe I will, who’s to say.”

“(Y/L/N), my full name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and my middle is (Y/M/N) just in case you were wondering about that one too.” you laughed as he pulled out his phone and typed your name into the search bar. 

“Oh I’m so sorry to hear that you passed away, should I send flowers?” you laughed as you looked over at his screen to see the obituary of the old woman with the same name as you.

“Very funny, but you know if you wanted to learn about me, you could just ask me instead of stalking my… what is that my linkedIn page? Wow that is the strangest form of stalking if i’ve ever see one.”

“Well strange is my namesake.” he laughed at his joke once more as he closed the tab and clicked on the link to your instagram. “Ah so I see you used to live in California, and you are… ah of course, an aspiring actress, what a classic story. Small town girl moving to the Big Apple to make her dreams come true, so I’m guessing since you’re an ‘actress’... you work as a waitress?”

You looked at him in shock, not sure if you were more offended by the stereotype he just categorized you into or the fact that he put the word actress in air quotes. “Okay first of all I'm no ‘small town girl’” you stated with air quotes, intending to mock him, “I'm from LA not some little farm town in Central California, also yes I do in fact work at a diner, but it’s not because I can’t make it as an actress, in fact I just got a role in the ensemble of (your favorite B-way show).”

“Ah well maybe if you had posted more on your social media I would have learned this about you.” he smirked at you and you couldn’t help but melt at that look.

“Or maybe you could have just… asked me?” you laughed as you pulled out your phone.

“Oh don’t bother looking me up, you won’t find anything but my wikipedia page, not much of a social media kind of guy.” he pointed out as you started to unlock your phone.

“Oh I'm not, actually I’m calling an uber, since it is almost 1.”

Stephen reached for your hand, putting your phone down on the bar. “No no, I’m not letting you pay for a ride home after your friend so graciously ditched you like that, let me drive you.” there was a stern and protective tone to his voice that you hadn’t heard all night.

“Are you sure about that? You… We’ve been drinking and I don’t want to…” stephen quickly cut you off.

“Oh don’t be silly, I’ve had 2 drinks in the last” he looked down at his watch, “almost 3 hours now, I could to easily perform a craniectomy right now, driving won’t be a problem.”

“Okay I’m not so sure about the whole crani-whatever that thing is under the influence thing, but I’ll trust you with the driving portion.” and with that, the two of you closed your tabs and walked out the door.

Stephen had offered to pay for your drinks for you but you refused, seeing that your roommate had so graciously left you to pay for her drinks as well and not wanting him to have to cover that, you were going to have to have a word with her when you got home.

Stephen walked across the street towards what you were guessing was the hospital and you closely followed behind, assuming his car must be in the parking lot there. As he approached the car you stopped dead in your tracks.

“No way, there is NO WAY this is your car!” you looked excitedly at the sleek black Lamborghini in front of you.

“Excuse me I’m a world famous neurosurgeon, what do you think I’m gonna drive, a Prius?” The two of you laughed at the comment as he unlocked the car and opened your door for you. You had to admit, he was quite the gentleman when he wasn’t being so arrogant and snarky.

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

“Woah there slow down there speed racer, I know there’s not that many people on the road but I would like to make it home in one piece tonight.” You said to Stephen in a teasing tone but with real concern behind the statement. You tried to hide the uncomfortable state you were in as he cruised down the open and empty roads.

“Oh come on don’t be a baby, I'm not even going that fast, I’m only going 30 miles over the speed limit, that’s nothing. We can go faster if you wa-”

“NO!” you screamed. He laughed at you as he shook his head.

“Alright alright, I’ll slow down. You’re a buzzkill you know that?” he quickly looked over at you with a wink before looking back at the road.

“Well excuse me if I don’t want to end up BACK at the hospital tonight.” you shot back at him. He gave you a look almost as if he were telling you ‘you win’ and the two of you continued the drive home in silence.

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

You were relieved when he finally pulled over in front of your apartment, you couldn’t stand another second in that car of death, sure it was nice but you had no intent of dying in it. You were starting to gather your things when Stephen stopped you.

“Now hold on a moment, you’re not leaving right this second are you?” he had a very confused and sad tone as he asked you this.

“Well this is my apartment, and the next logical step would be for me to get out of the car and go in.” You replied with a sarcastic tone.

He looked out the window, then down at his hands, and then finally back to you, almost as if he were trying to choose his next words very wisely. “I mean I do only live a couple blocks away from here, the night doesn’t have to end now.”

You were taken aback by the forwardness of his statement but also how unsure he sounded as he spoke. “No offence doctor but I think the logical time to ask me this would have been before we left the bar not after you have arrived in front of my apartment.” you said with a teasing tone, holding back your nervous laughter. “And besides I’m not that kind of girl, at least not usually.” and with a wink you opened the door.

“Right, yes of course my apologies. Have a nice night (Y/N).” and with that you were out of his car, walking to the front door. You looked back at him as he gave you a nod and drove off.

You recapped the night in your head as you walked up the stairs to the 3rd floor, unable to hold back the biggest smile as you thought about the handsome doctor. As you opened the door to your studio apartment, you saw Bianca sitting on the couch waiting for you with a single light on.

“Excuse me but I thought you had to leave because of your early morning?” you shot at her with the most sarcastic tone.

She ignored the rudeness in your voice and walked toward you, grabbing your shoulders she had the happiest look on her face as she sat you down on the couch. “Tell. Me. Everything.”

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

A/N: thank you again for reading!! much love for you all!

Chapter 3

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