#after that show closed I heard a rumor that he’d asked a mutual friend about me because he had a crush

[audreyh002]

One of my core memories of high school theatre is the time when the kid playing Henry Antrobus used our break to bang out the intro to “STARSTRUKK” by 3oh!3 on the set of lockers in the hallway, and we were all super impressed ‘cause it sounded exactly like the song. Now he’s a chef for the restaurant inside Benaroya Hall and ten years sober, and we haven’t spoken since high school although I did see him walking downtown once and we made eye contact and I yelled hi but he didn’t hear me. To this day I can’t hear the song without thinking of that moment and I love how life gives us these little visceral moments like that.

[zirkkun]

just before.

just before. (Undertale fanfic - based off of Wickedtale by @alch3mic​ - rated M by AO3 standards.)

+ soldier!sans x dancer!reader (they/them prns)

+ 4456 words, english

+ prologue to soldier’s story. first time he ever meets dancer.

+ cw: mentions of murder, classism, yandere/obsessive personality, abusive/controlling parents

+ “he hadn't heard that phrase in years. so constantly aware of the corruption plaguing the world... well, as it seemed, there was still one highlight to live to protect.”

+ AO3 link

Ebott City. The corrupted hell hole that was somehow above ground, while the actual hole the "monsters" came from had been far more palatable. At least, in one case. Many didn't have the same experience he did, but… whatever. That didn't really matter. He didn't really care about it anymore. Why dwell on the past? There's too much shit going on in the present to even have time for something like that.

Day-to-day life was flooded: constantly moving, constantly working, never slowing, never stopping. There's no time for that. The day he gets time to take off and sleep, get whatever medication he's sure he needs for his horrifically weak non-stomach, and lead a healthy and safe lifestyle while retaining his wealth? Ha. In dreams, maybe. This city wasn't kind enough for that. Though, maybe if his ambitions weren't so specific, he wouldn't have fallen into this path of endless work… but it's a little late for that.

His brother had made use of their skills the two of them had attained growing up, and with that opened a dance studio where others of all sorts could come through and learn how to dance. A small corner of peace in this awful world, that little building, where monsters and humans could both dance without feud, where rich and poor could both talk without judgement. Maybe it was ironic, maybe it was fate, or maybe it was straight coincidence that his brother had named the place "Enchanted Dancing." He knew that the name was merely in reference to the magic of their home where everyone had their own sort of dances they practiced, which they all soon found was very different from most other monsters who had battle magic specialties. But even still… heh, ah, it just further proved his point. The only decent place in the world was the Underground, before they ever surfaced.

A beep. 6:00 P.M. Work.

Or, rather, his second line of work.

While he'd abandoned his dance skills long ago, he never really fully disconnected with music as a whole. It's not like he really could when he doesn't have anything else to his life or history -- he doesn't know anything else. So, he made it a pastime to make his own musical works, trying to sell them online for money, but quickly found it's not exactly easy for people to find your work… let alone get them to pay for it when they do. He had run low on money fast -- so fast that he needed something quick and easy that he could do to not end up on the curb in a weeks' time.

He doesn't remember how he heard about it, or really what possessed him to go along with it anyway; but somewhere along the line, he'd caught word of some pretentious wealthy human furiously rattling off how their reputation would be "demolished" if the rumor that had begun about their business didn't come to a halt. How they would pay "insane amounts of money" to have that rumor "eradicated." You know, without really doing any work themself, or trying to better the work that they were doing, or fixing the root of their problem to begin with… Yes, because throwing money at the problem until it's pushed onto someone else is the better solution.

And yet… when someone comes up to you in your hour of despair, presenting to you an arguably invisible layer of protection in this world of work or die, something to get you out of the dark and stop the ticking clock of your otherwise inevitable doom…

It's not like he was going to turn down the offer.

He'd forged some sort of alias -- whatever it was at the time no longer mattered, since he'd had many over the half year or so he's been doing this -- and scribbled out a note of sorts explaining what was, at the time, a feigned, short "resume" for work as an information broker. The note was left with the pretentious prick, who did, in fact, end up contacting him in the end, offering more money than he thought he'd ever see in his waking life. Needless to say, he took the job… and found the issue to be so incredibly simple to resolve that even a child could have done it.

Well, no.

A child would have had more sense of morality.

... probably.

Who was he kidding here, honestly? He complains about the rich on a regular basis, their foolish waste of money, their apathy towards those that didn't have any money, just pure care for only money.

But here he was.

Morality erased.

Lives ruined.

Bank account overflowing.

Doing the same things they were doing.

The very least he could do -- and the very least he does do -- is support those whose music he'd wanted to support while he was on the edge of homelessness. Even some of his online friends, music composition friends, were consistently met with the cash they needed in a moment's notice. "Where did you even get this kind of money?" they would ask him. He would just jokingly say that an old witch blessed him with unending wealth, or something else to that extent of unbelievable ridiculousness.

But, unfortunately, not all of his money could go towards such good causes. While he did have far beyond the money to sustain multiple dozen families, at least a third of it was thrown right back into the exchange as he paid person after person for job after job he was unwilling to do.

There was no blood on his hands. No dust caked into his bones.

But it was splattered all over the money he handed out like trick-or-treat candy.

He'd met two others, notably, that did a lot of work alongside him. A crafty cat and a wily wolf… figuratively, of course. The three of them sharing the same first name, they merely tossed nicknames at each other. More often than he probably realized, they took much of his budget for work he was far too lazy to bother with. You know, scouring the dark web for information, stalking people to track their pathing… the occasional hit here and there. Sometimes, he would do it himself, but only if he really felt up to it… and frankly, he was never in the mood for murder. But that damn wolf was shockingly willing -- for the right paycheck.

He did recognize, however, the two of them did seem to have a mutual similarity that he, personally, did not share.

… he did not have anyone close to him. He didn't have anyone who looked after him, cared for him. It didn't bother him until recently, when apparently that damn wolf managed to lock the object of his affection into a relationship. Even the cat seemed bitter when he heard the news. Someone so fucked as him still manages to find someone?

… the world was just trying with his emotions at this point. Taunting happiness at the end of a pole taped to the back of his head, leaving it just out of reach, but always in his way and always in his line of sight.

Of course, he had his brother…

... who he doesn't talk to for weeks at a time…

... and he keeps turning down his offers to meet up again…

… yes, he had his brother. A strong emphasis on the "had."

He was alone. He knew that. But, at least for the case of his brother, he'd done it on purpose.

The last thing he wants is to have his brother, someone so passionate and pure, hands still clearly clean of sin; find out he has the richest humans of the city wrapped around his fingers out of both fear and dependability.

So, frankly, sometimes he found himself jealous of the other two. The other two who had someone to care for them.

He supposed the trio of them could sort of be friends…

He'd met the wolf a few times in person, both intentionally and not.

He'd bumped into the cat, wasted in a bar, more than once.

… No, they really weren't his friends. Co-workers is the best way he could probably describe them.

Yes, he was just jealous of them.

He was alone.

…

… Well, work isn't going to start itself. He pulled his phone back up to his face, clicking it on to see how long he'd zoned out for. 6:03 P.M. Not too terrible. He slammed shut his laptop, pushing back from his chair as he went to put on the outfit that had practically become his "uniform" at this point. A dark under layer of tight leggings and a fitted long-sleeve athletic tee with a zip-up turtleneck; a desaturated over layer of a baggy, now sleeveless hoodie and equally as baggy gym shorts. And, of course, a hat, as usual… but he wore those no matter the time of day.

His apartment door clicked shut behind him as he left, and once the door was locked, he evaporated into thin air.

-- only to appear, moments later, in front of one of the most lavish mansions in the richest part of Ebott City. It was so bleeding with "I'm such a rich, extra asshole" energy that it made his Soul twist with disgust. The walls were marble, shimmering from small lights below them to show off their sparkling, smooth surface. Each edge of the building was lined with gold-plated metal, even the rails to the stairway. Arching windows stood on either side of the front door, which was probably big enough for an average sized elephant to fit into with some extra ear room to boot.

Thank the stars he didn't have to go inside again. He already knew what his job was for the night, and to be back inside that disgustingly overdone building these pretentious humans called "home"... Just thinking about it made him feel beyond insulted.

He took another shortcut -- this time, finding himself on the rooftop. Although the sun had not yet fully set, even so, it was still much darker here than standing in front of the artificially-lit trophy they called a front entrance. He popped open his phone again. 6:05 P.M.

Unlocking it completely, he pulled up a message from the cat he'd gotten this morning.

morning soldier~ i managed to get done what you needed me to for today last night. which, you owe me BIG-TIME for, mister.

i was up until 4 am doing this!!

Soldier checked the timestamp. Yesterday, 11:34 P.M. Does that cat think he's an idiot? Whatever, it's not like this was the important part of the message. But, if anything, he's getting docked pay for really bad lying. It's not like the guy needs more alcohol money, anyway.

here's a list compiled of all the parties in ebott tonight. i only looked for ones starting after 6 pm like you asked, but there was still far too many… the list is very long (Ｔ▽Ｔ)

[file download link]

i hope you're happy!!! cause im not looking any more than that!!!!! ☆⌒(> _ <)

He downloaded the file to his phone, browsing through it to see what parties had been collected into the spreadsheet. He only could assume that's what was bringing them out, at the very least.

Oh, yes, his job for the evening. That's integral information, I suppose.

The mansion whose roof he sat upon currently was owned by a human family with the surname King. They had twelve children, all adopted, but were all also kept on very rigorous and strict schedules. The eldest of the children very recently had been caught sneaking out of the house every evening by one of their siblings, and sleeping noticeably late in the morning, their final semester of university was suffering from this all as they refused to finish their thesis. So, naturally as it is for all the rich, they threw their money at the problem hoping that would fix it.

Today's "that" was the skeleton monster sitting on their roof, waiting to see when someone would eventually leave the house.

With a hefty sum of money, upfront payment, as usual; Soldier was told to follow their child for three nights, and to report back after that time with what they had been up to. Seemed easy enough. Of all the jobs he'd gotten, tailing someone for a few days and tracking their every move was probably the easiest he's ever had the misfortune of doing.

He continued to scroll through the list. He had been given absolutely nothing to work with from the Kigngs as to where their kid was headed or when they tended to leave the house, or any information of actual use; so he was going into the job without a clue as to what he was really looking for. It was probably the most difficult aspect of the job -- hence why he outsourced the bulk of it. As for the "where," parties seemed like a reasonable assumption to make for a human college student. That's a rather common stereotype of sorts, college students getting drunk at party after party, is it not? Better than nothing, he supposed. Nothing else really came to mind anyway, but that doesn't mean there wasn't another option. Even still, it's a better start than nothing.

Now he had to just wait for the "when." He had the list in front of him, hoping he could deduce when the human would leave their house… but the more he read it over, the more bored he got. Guess the cat wasted his time. Oh well. That's not Soldier's problem.

Just as he locked his screen shut, planning to come down from the roof and investigate any exits that might be hidden to most of the house, he heard an absurdly loud sound he initially thought was a gunshot, followed by a raspy huff of various curses. Peering over the edge of the rooftop, after shortcutting there silently to avoid making attention towards himself; he noticed there was, in fact, no gunshot, but rather, an awfully messy and junky trap door of sorts, seemingly made of plywood. A human, who he assumed was the one who swore earlier, grabbed a bush that had been sitting next to it, picking it up like it was nothing and placing it over the door. It was in line with several other, similar bushes. The human dusted off their hands before walking, keeping a close eye on the mansion walls to their side.

Well, looks like he's found who he's supposed to tail.

He kept watch over them for as long as his eyes could follow, and then, the moment they left his vision, he shortcutted to where they had been moments ago, though slightly distanced as to be hidden nearby; and simply repeated the process. Soldier knew this part of the city better than the back of his hand, so he knew where he was at all times, as well, making shortcutting silently even easier.

… However, what he didn't understand was where the hell this human was headed. A few times he tried clicking on his phone, scrolling through the list again, but they weren't headed in any direction towards any party. And even when they started heading in the direction of one… they would end up taking a "wrong" turn and dodging it completely.

…

… this was taking a really long time…

It's… almost been an hour by now. Soldier's starting to recognize this area a little less. He knew the map layout, but not all of the details about where they were or what was distinctly different about each street. They were outside of the rich part of town, but not quite in the poorer side that he was used to, either. If he was remembering correctly, this was in the direction of downtown. Unless this human's planning on breaking into some probably-already-crashed college dorm party for the night, they definitely weren't planning to party at all. Okay, well, that throws that plan out the window.

But now he had no idea what to expect. Were they banned from getting help, so they're actively seeking it out? Unlikely. Were they secretly addicted to drugs? Unless it was alcohol, getting away with drug smuggling in downtown was a horrific, nearly impossible idea. Did they have a significant other that their family wouldn't let them see? Well… he had no idea. Thoughts and questions and possibilities kept cycling in and out, but he never lost sight of where they were going.

And, sure enough, the bright downtown lights descended upon them as they started making their way across the long bridge leading to the most eventful point of the city. Due to the sheer length of the bridge, and the fact that Soldier was not as well-versed in the map of the downtown Ebott area… he resorted to traditional stalking, mimicking their every step as casually and nonchalantly as possible, as though to avoid being spotted.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket. One new message.

weeeeell? was my work useful? >:3c

He merely huffed half a laugh before typing out his response.

i didnt use it at all

what?! Σ(･口･) soldier, i went through all that hard work, and you didn't even LOOK at it???

i looked at it

i didnt use it

...you're at least still paying me, right?

no

you are the WORST 凸(｀△´＋）

i'm never doing anything for you again >:(

you dont need the alcohol money anyway

But the cat never responded to that one. Well, Soldier's never been the best at landing most jokes, despite his tendency to make them. Clearly sarcasm wasn't his strong point either. Whatever. He'd pay him later.

He put his phone back in his pocket, putting his attention back to his job as the bridge finally began to end. If the human was suspicious of his following them, they showed no signs of it. Good. Frankly, being silent by stalking someone in this manner isn't his strong suit. He had assumed they would have stayed nearby… not gone to the other side of the city.

The sun had set, but even still, downtown was overwhelmed with artificial lighting, and frankly, it was already giving Soldier a headache and he hadn't even been here for more than 10 minutes. Curse his ridiculously weak and sensitive body.

The human kept walking along, though their pace was beginning to hasten as they flickered their gaze between stepping and a phone screen. Naturally, he also quickened his footing, although unsure as to why. Maybe they were running late for something?

They took a sharp left into a shady alleyway; Soldier shortcut to its entrance, spotting them sprinting down it as fast as they could before eventually climbing up a wooden fence at the end, reaching its peak and jumping over it with ease. Like they'd done this many times before. Soldier, confused, checked the name of the buildings on either side of the alleyway… but neither were significant. One was even an apartment building of sorts, but it looked abandoned at best. Well, might as well continue.

Reaching the end of the alley and pushing himself over the fence with magic to avoid making as much sound as possible, Soldier's feet landed on the concrete of the other side. It was surprisingly… clean. As if someone kept it nice regularly. He went to take a step forward when he heard chattering, and instead, tucked himself behind the smallest edge of the nearby wall, barely peering over its edge to see the rest of the area.

It was like a very small park. Perhaps a courtyard? But it was too barren for that. Well, all except the trees. There were four skinny trunks sprouted from the ground, all of different kinds, and probably no more than two and a half meters tall. Around them was a square-shaped sidewalk of the same concrete he was standing on.

But, at that center of the trees, were two humans, not one. He recognized the one he'd been following up until this point -- vaguely, and mostly just from the color of their clothing -- but the other was new.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I was held up worrying I was going to get caught…" the human he'd followed spoke. "My dad apparently hired someone to follow me for a few days. One of my sisters told me… she apparently ratted me out -- she was forced to -- and now my dad's on a manhunt to find out what I'm doing."

"Yikes," the other person responded. They had a higher pitched voice, but a lower tone of interest. "Sorry to hear about it. You didn't need to come racing here to tell me that, you know. You could have stayed home and texted me to move the lesson."

Lesson?

"No, it's fine. I came because I wanted to. It probably would have been better if I waited… but I was too excited about tonight," the human explained. "It's the first time we're practicing the whole dance routine straight through. I've been practicing on my own some other nights, too."

… dance routine?

The other human let go of a heavy laugh. "You've really been practicing for two weeks straight with no other dance party breaks?"

"I said on some other nights!"

The both of them laughed.

But Soldier was stuck on "dance routine."

A phrase he typically only heard from his brother anymore, and he barely talked to him as is.

A phrase he'd never said himself in… so long.

An act he hasn't tried since they were still trapped Underground…

An act that, even back then, he'd sworn off doing after so many years of it.

It's like he'd been punched directly in the Soul. Possibly even with a knife.

"Well, are you ready to start, then?"

Soldier's attention peered back to the two humans.

"Yup, whenever you are!"

There was a brief period of silence.

Then the music started. He didn't recognize it at first…

But the realization that it was his own piece hit him in the face like a truck. Some sort of shivering heat rushed through his body. … embarrassment? ...maybe? He… wasn't sure.

But even still…

He soon became entranced by their dancing.

Only the human he had been following was dancing the routine. Every step timed perfectly to every beat and measure… so meticulously performed with such dedication. But then, some old part of him started to creep back from where it had been shoved away, as he started judging the technique of their every move. Sure, they had a… beautiful dedication to every step they took… but much of it was wrong. Though, they were not missteps. Everything planned was executed with confident perfection. The moves themselves were wrong. Some of them didn't match the tone of the piece at all, and it was clear that they were self-taught, just based on how they were moving in between each one. He wasn't mad, no… no, rather… he was utterly fascinated.

Soldier stood and watched the whole routine, start to finish. Though, he couldn't help but have a yelp from his own Soul every time they did something his own memory was screeching to be incorrect. It was yelping because… he wanted to correct them. He wanted to walk up to them, tell them what was wrong with their choices, and point them in the right direction. He wanted to… take them by the hand, directing their movements through his, teaching them how to dance the way he was taught. He… couldn't stop staring…

A scream. Soldier shortcut in a panic. He was now on the opposite side of the wooden fence, back in they alleyway.

"What, what is it?" The voice of the second human.

"I��� I thought I saw someone." A breathy, horrified tone from the dancer. "I thought someone was watching me but… th-then I blinked and… they were gone."

The second human huffed angrily. "You haven't been getting proper sleep lately, have you? Maybe you should go home and rest."

Still breathing heavily, the dancer hummed a sound of malcontent. "I… Can I finish the routine first?"

"Really, now…" But with a sigh, the second human allowed them to start again from the beginning.

Meanwhile, Soldier…

He was doing his best not to scream on his own. So many emotions overwhelmed him entirely. Most of which he could not identify. But one thing would not stop looping in his mind. One thing other than a raging beat echoing in his skull from the sound of his own Soul racing, that was. In fact, that only heightened.

The thought of taking their hand. Teaching them to dance.

The overwhelming feeling of hearing someone else not just listening to his work… but expanding upon it. Being able to express themself through it. Being able to see themself through him.

The raging passion burning deep inside of him, regretting his forgone dancing career. It ate at his Soul, bit by bit. Begging his laziness to cave for them and them alone.

The fact that all of these thoughts happened in the very same millisecond that he made eye contact with them… he felt unexplainably and weirdly hot.

That eye contact. Their eyes, their face. They were almost as beautiful as the dances they performed… no… perhaps even more so.

Another loud beat echoed in his skull. The song was reaching its end. He knew he needed to start going home before he was caught.

But part of him wanted to be caught.

Part of him wanted to catch them.

… And all of him wanted to see them dancing… just one more time. Once more, that's all he asks.

Just one more time.

Maybe… maybe that will suffice.

Maybe that will drive away the fortissimo thoughts clouding his sense of reality. Maybe he'll be able to go back to…

A thought. A separate one, remembered from earlier this same evening.

"Alone."

He was… alone.

…

Did he really want to go down the same paths as…?

No, not really.

But it seemed his Soul was not giving him much other option. The mere thought of never being able to label himself as lonely… and if it was because of someone as beautiful as them…

Well. He already was a hypocrite, chanting against a society he partook in regularly. What other damage could be done by reaffirming what he already knew?

Besides. His Soul was desperate.

He wanted that dancer for his own.

No… no, this was most certainly a need.

[hufflepuffhollander]

5 times it didn’t, 1 time it did: tom holland imagine

a/n | this is my first submission for @hollandsrecs​ 1k bingo event! the prompt was “5 times, 1 time”, a concept you’ll soon understand! I really enjoyed writing this and got really in my Feelings™ listening to Mean it by Gracie Abrams (give it a listen). 

summary: Tom keeps missing his chance to make things right with you after rumors spread about an affair with one of his costars. 

tom x fem reader | contains angst for days, language, and resolution fluff | word count: 2.2k | enjoy!

“I can’t believe you.”

“What, what can’t you believe?”

“You told me you’d never let the tabloids come in between our relationship.”

“As far as I’m concerned, they haven’t. You’re still sitting here, aren’t you?”

“In our apartment? Seriously?”

“What do you want from me?”

“To call your publicist or your manager or whoever the hell will be able to shut all this shit down.”

“It’s the internet, y/n. You can’t ‘shut it down’. What’s out there is out there.”

“Why are you being so apathetic about this?”

“Why is it such a big deal?”

“Half the country thinks you’re dating your costar and that I’m a desperate sidepiece.”

“You know you’re not.”

“But they don’t.”

“So?”

“Is it so hard to come out and say that it’s not true?”

“People will think what they want regardless of what I say.”

“You know what, fuck this.”

You got off the couch, throwing your hands up in defeat.

“I don’t know why I have to try so hard to convince you to make this relationship a priority.”

Tom sighed heavily, starting to get off the couch and follow you out of the room, but receded and stayed planted. He wanted to say something that would make you turn around and come back, something to figure it out. To tell you that you were a priority, really his first one. But he didn’t know how to say that, and he stayed silent.

He could’ve apologized, and he didn’t. This was the first time you’d ever walked out of an argument without resolving the problem and ending it with a hug and mutual I-love-you’s. It took all of your gathered strength to keep facing forward and walk further and further away from him, instead of running back, folding into his arms and seeking out the comfort that was his body heat. It epically sucked that he had the power to make you both the angriest and happiest you ever knew how to feel.

You and Tom went to sleep that night silently, staying a hundred feet apart in your queen sized bed, backs turned towards each other. You hated feeling the draft between your loose shirt and bare back — he hated not being able to fall asleep inhaling your shampoo with his head against the back of yours. You stayed awake listening to the silence, hoping he’d speak. Hoping he’d say he was sorry, that he’d fix it. But all he did was yawn, or sigh, or stretch out and pull his hand back like it had been burned when he accidentally grazed your arm. You were both miserable, but he still didn’t apologize, second opportunity to fix things passing by as soon as it had come.

The next morning, you woke up later than you meant to and couldn’t avoid Tom waking up next to you, making inevitable eye contact as you’d naturally shuffled closer together in your sleep, like your bodies were ready for a closure your minds weren’t ready to come to.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Your phone buzzed and you made the mistake of checking it. More and more notifications poured in from friends asking if you and Tom were still together, “who this costar bitch thought she was”, seeing how you were handling it. You realized still nothing had been done about it, and the same nasty feelings from the day before resurfaced anew. Tom saw your face drop and rolled onto his back, pretending to be interested in the ceiling.

“Plans today?” he asked.

“Just doing damage control and convincing infinite circles of friends that I’m not suddenly single and in a downward spiral behind closed doors,” you responded, sounding harsher than you meant to.

He put his hands over his face.  “If they really were your friends they wouldn’t have to ask,” he said bluntly. Your belly filled with a dull fire.

“Is that really the angle you’re gonna take right now?” you said, trying to ignore the tears preemptively pinpricking the corners of your eyes. Tom realized he had played the asshole card when he turned to see your face painted with hurt, and again, tried to spit out the words that he was sorry. But he didn’t, and his third chance flew out the open window. You shivered at the draft, and Tom went to instinctively wrap his arms around you, but stopped himself when you looked at him puzzled, as he couldn’t handle doing really anything when he saw how gray your eyes looked.

“y/n, I think this has gotten-“

“Save it,” you said, swiftly getting out of bed. You didn’t care to be insulted another time before 9 am, or feel your attachment to the love of your life sever a little more before you’d even brewed your coffee. You threw on the first thing you found, tied your hair up, grabbed your bag and then your keys.

“I’ll see you before the interview later.”

Truthfully, Tom’s talk show interview tonight was hours and hours away, but you wanted to avoid another emotional hit from him as long as possible.

Tom felt his chest sink as he heard the lock click after you. Why couldn’t he just apologize? Was it that hard? Sure, he didn’t agree with you. The tabloids always blew any gossip they could create out of proportion, turning every friendly hug between friends into a lover’s affair. But addressing it to the public only ever just fanned the fire. He didn’t want to give in to the pressure, but could see how it was starting to break you.

You walked into your flat with barely enough time to get ready after a long, tiring day of thinking and overthinking, wanting nothing more than to come home and be with your best friend, to cry to him about your problems and let him kiss and cuddle the pain away. Never before had he actually been the problem, though. That was uncharted territory, and you were afraid to see him tonight and face either inevitable fighting or excruciating silence. You met at the car and got in wordlessly. Only once you’d pulled onto the highway did Tom decide to speak.

“I think we need to talk about what’s been going on, yeah?”

“I guess so.”

“I just want you to understand that my not saying anything publicly doesn’t mean I’m not denying the rumors being spread. Staying silent is taking a stand, in a way.”

“In a way,” you said quietly. You really didn’t want to ruin your makeup before the show and hoped staying soft would keep the emotional floodgates from breaking open.

“I’m trying not to add fuel to the fire, love,” he said, placing a hand on your thigh. You stared down at that hand you loved and didn’t respond.

“I feel like I have no dignity left.”

He exhaled and frowned.

“Do you know what people are saying about me?” you squeaked without meaning to.

“I’ve told you to stop reading all those articles.”

“Right, because that’s the problem.” You rolled your eyes and moved your leg away from under his hand. He awkwardly placed it on the gear shift and didn’t dare to look at you for fear of breaking down himself.

“I just wish you’d stand up for me.”

“I’m doing it in my own way,” he trailed off. But that wasn’t good enough for you.

“And you can’t see that maybe that’s not enough?”

“I-“ He was about to say sorry — you could’ve sworn you hear the first syllable. But a car in front changed lanes and cut him off.

“Fucker.” 

After that wise remark, silence. Fourth chance to apologize up in smoke. You looked out the window and said nothing until you pulled up to the studio entrance. You saw lines of flashing bulbs of cameras, news trucks and reporters. Why did everything have to be such a thing? Tom cleared his throat and turned to you.

“y/n, love, go ahead and get out here and I’ll meet you inside.”

You looked back at Tom blankly.

“We’re not going in together?”

“I don’t want to subject us to all the paps out there,” he said, refusing to make eye contact. “If you go alone, my security team can cover you. They can’t cover us both.”

Your whole body felt cold. “Are...are you serious?”

It looked like telling you to face the crowd without him was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. So why was he doing it?

“I’ll meet you inside-“

You cut him off by loudly undoing your seatbelt and putting your heels on, shooting daggers at him the whole time.

“I should’ve stayed home.” You opened the car door and got out.

“y/n, I’m-” You slammed the door shut before you could hear the rest of his words. Five chances he had to make it right, five times he absolutely blew it. You weren’t sure this was something you even wanted anymore. How could you clearly mean so little to him when he was your everything?

~

“...and give it up for Tom Holland!” the audience cheered wildly at the sight of your boyfriend walking out on stage, shaking the host’s hand and waving with a bright-eyed and cheery smile at the crowd. You’d chosen a smart seat in the back so as to hide from anyone who might recognize you — you were not in the mood to socialize, and frankly, if Tom didn’t currently have the only set of car keys, you would’ve driven yourself home. You could see him scanning the audience until his eyes landed on you, and you stared at him with an expression completely unfeeling, blinking slowly until he turned away. 

He continued to woo the host and the crowd with his heartfelt answers and funny anecdotes, but even you were immune to his charm tonight. You felt detached, alone. You wondered how you’d spent so long with this boy who had no respect for you or how you felt.

“So, not to put you on the spot, but-”

“Uh oh,” Tom laughed, the audience along with him.

“No, no, bear with me,” the host chuckled. “I’m sure you’re no stranger to all the rumors going around about this relationship you’ve gotten into with your costar in the new Spiderman movie coming out next year, can you give us any inside scoop on that?”

Tom shuffled in his chair looking uneasy, running a hand through his already messy hair, a telltale sign that he was nervous. You hated how well you knew him.

“I mean, I don’t like to give into all the gossip,” he said, trying to play it off. “But if you want to talk about the movie-”

“We will, we will! But you know what we all really care about...” the host laughed, pushing Tom to keep talking.

“Look, we’ve all grown close on set, like a little family. And I can’t believe I even have to say this, but no, I’m not an item with any one of my costars, or fellow actors, or anyone famous for that matter,” his face started to splotch pink, and you sat up in your seat. What was he doing?

“Well sorry to pry-” the host started, but Tom kept talking, now faster, lips not able to keep up with his brain.

“The amount of stress all the rumors have put on me and the people I care about is insane and unfair, and nobody has taken it harder than my actual girlfriend, who is right there in the audience,” he said, and you cursed him for causing a hundred chairs to squeak as heads swiveled towards you. “It all has her constantly feeling hated and unimportant and questioning our relationship, which I can’t stand, because I love her more than anything, I do, and I hate to see her so upset when there’s just nothing I can do about people gossiping.” You hear scattered “aww”s come from around you.

“I’ve been quiet for too long about it, which I thought was the right thing to do. But I was wrong. She deserves to hear me tell the world that I am with her, and only her, and that’s not changing,” he says, finally taking a breath. Tom looks at you, eyes watery, and sighs, as the audience coos and applauds. He mouths a clear “I’m sorry” that only you see, and you feel that cold draft start to melt, letting yourself give him a small smile in return. He finishes the interview and you meet him backstage at the end.

When he sees you walking towards him, Tom picks up speed and pulls you into a hug immediately, both arms underneath yours, almost picking you up off the ground. You hate to admit it, but it feels so good to be back where you rightfully belong. You lean into his body and hug him back. He kisses your cheek and rests his face against yours. “You know how much I love you, right?”

“I know. You finally apologized.”

“I know.”

“Took you long enough.”

He pulled back and smiled at you, leaning in and kissing you softly. He cupped your face with both of his hands and wiped away a small tear that was harbored between your eyelashes.

“I’ll go on a million more talk shows and do it again if it means you’ll forgive me.”

“That’s a start,” you both giggle and he kisses you again. “Can we go home?”

“Of course, love.”

[bokutosworld]

third time’s a charm | bokuto koutarou

a/n: posting this in advance hehe happy birthday to my golden boy, sunshine baby, and the best ace, bokuto! i am so. in love with him. thank you furudate-sensei for creating him :’) 

pairing: bokuto x f!reader

wc: 2.4k words of mutual pining and birthday fluff.

summary: bokuto has been wanting to confess his feelings for you, but you take him by surprise.  

--

you met bokuto on your first year in fukurodani. despite being in the same year, you’ve only heard about him through stories told by classmates and friends. he was a powerful spiker, an up-and-coming volleyball ace, and you respected him for that.  

it wasn't until that one rainy day that you met him. classes just finished and you were packing your things when the rain came pouring down. and it was only your luck that you forgot to bring an umbrella that day.

you hadn't realized how long you have been standing in the school entrance, near the shoe lockers, until you heard shuffling beside you. there was bokuto, seated on the doorway and tying his shoes. when he looked up at you, he was grinning from ear to ear - you've heard it was his signature smile - and it seemed to brighten up that rainy and gloomy afternoon.  

'hey! wanna come home with me?' he said this so casually that you weren't sure if you heard him right. if anybody heard him, they could easily misinterpret him. he must have noticed that you were looking at him incredulously, 'oy! don't get me wrong! i just figured you didn't have an umbrella and we could maybe share! besides, we're going in the same way!'

how he knew where you lived was a mystery to you. of course, bokuto wouldn't admit that he had his eye on you for a while and that he passed by your classroom earlier, seeing you packing your things and noticed you didn't have an umbrella. you didn't want to question him further, because here he was offering you a safe and dry option to go home. so you accepted, 'i'd like that. thank you...'

'bokuto koutarou! but you can call me bokuto or koutarou. whichever you like really!' it was cute how he fumbled over his words, he hoped you didn't notice that he was too excited to be interacting with you. you smiled, 'thank you, bokuto. i'm y/n.' 

on the walk home, bokuto proved to be a gentleman. his umbrella was big enough to cover the both of you but you noticed him tilting it to your side to make sure you didn't get wet from the rain. you guys made some small talk, catching up on your subjects, how the classes were treating you. you even asked him how volleyball was going for him.

when you finally arrived at your home, you thanked him and even offered to let him inside so he could dry himself. but he was shy and insisted that you can just pay him back at school then he went on his way. you were left standing at your door, wondering what he meant. but you couldn't deny that you were looking forward to getting to know him more.

the following morning, bokuto made his way to your class during lunch. he sat down at your desk, and it was as if you two were best buddies as he chatted with you and told you stories about his morning training. as much as you were surprised, you didn't mind it and indulged him. your classmates were a witness to the blossoming friendship between the two of you.

since that day, you and bokuto were inseparable. from helping him study, accompanying him in his extra trainings, and even going out of your way to make him cute little bentos, you showed him support in the ways you knew possible as his best friend. everyone thought you guys were dating. towards the end of the year, rumors were circulating that you and bokuto are together. you chose to ignore it, not wanting to ruin the wonderful friendship that you two shared.

however, unknown to you, those gossips were sparking something in bokuto. he always thought you were a great person - smart, attractive, kind. the recent talk in school made him realize that he saw you as a woman and he was yearning for something more with you.

so one day, bokuto decided that he was going to confess to you after school. when he dropped you off at your house, he stayed for a few minutes. he stood there in front of you, fidgeting and you thought it was cute. you figured he wanted to say something so you waited. but just as he finally mustered up the courage to say he likes you, the front door opened, revealing your dad. bokuto panicked and looked between you and your dad. 'hello sir! i was just taking her home.' he bowed and his gaze flitted over to you, 'i'll see you tomorrow at school!' and the boy ran away fast, leaving you and your father with confused looks on your faces.  

second year arrived and you guys were closer than ever. however, you were both busy with club activities - you with student council responsibilities and bokuto with trainings and practice matches for the volleyball club.

the two of you saw each other in the hallways, stopping by to hug each other and have conversation before class started. sometimes, you would see each other in the cafeteria where he was often sitting with his team and you with your own group of friends. you would exchange knowing looks across the hall and both your friends would tease you. bokuto was already used to it, but you were always a blushing mess. 

one morning, bokuto came to your the student council room before the classes started. you wondered what he was doing here, 'aren't you supposed to be in morning practice right now?' he smiles, 'yeah! but i wanted to introduce someone to you first!' he moves to the side and reveals a boy. it turns out the boy is named akaashi, a first year member of the volleyball club. he was a setter and bokuto was overly excited, complimenting him nonstop about his skills and how he makes a great addition to the team. akaashi was flattered, almost bashful, and you were amused seeing bokuto so fond of the younger boy.

easy to say, the introduction of akaashi also meant that your duo became a trio. much to bokuto's delight, you and akaashi got along so well. despite him being a year lower than you, you interacted with him comfortably. often, you would wait for the two boys to finish practice so the three of you can go home together. in between walks home, you would stop by cafes to try new food and drinks.

and being the observant person that he is, akaashi saw through the feelings that you and bokuto shared and he was puzzled as to why the both of you weren't still a couple. there were boys in his class who were asking him about you, if he can introduce them to you. but he would always politely turn them down, respecting the closeness of your relationship with bokuto.

there was a day when you had to skip on going home with them. you messaged them saying you had to stay back for student council duties. and as much bokuto and akaashi would have liked to wait for you, they had game tomorrow and had to rest to be in good condition so they went head. the walk was silent and akaashi was wondering if bokuto was on one of his moods. however, his worries were quickly dispelled when the older boy turned to him and asked, 'do you like y/n?' it surprised him but at the same time, akaashi found it amusing.

'no, bokuto-san. i believe y/n already has her eye on someone else.' he gave bokuto a knowing and encouraging look. 'you should try confessing to her. it wouldn't hurt letting her know about your feelings,' akaashi advised.

when bokuto settled in his home, he mulled over what akaashi told him. he wasn't that oblivious to recognize the many boys who were looking at you and wanting to make a move. it always crushed his heart whenever he thought he could lose you and your friendship once you entered a relationship. he knew he had to make his move, but he also knew how you were getting busy lately with student council. he didn't want to add to your stress, and to be honest, he was at the point of his volleyball career where he had to focus all his time on the sport. entering a relationship now when you were both busy would be futile. so in the meantime, he thought he'd wait for the right time and pushed back any plans to confess.

finally, you and bokuto were on your last year in high school. he made a promise to himself that he would properly ask you out before graduation. and it was like the gods of matchmaking and love were on his side as the two of you were finally on the same class!

he was thrilled, running up to you to hug you on the first day of school. he thought about the many opportunities he had to finally ask you the question. however, as seniors, there was the looming responsibilities of college entrance exams and last volleyball matches that kept you two busy.

often bokuto would whine to you in class, 'y/n!!!!!!!! why do i not see you anymore? this is torture.' you would always laugh at his dramatic ass, and to your classmates it was a sight to see the ace looking for your attention. yet much as you wanted to spend time with him, you had papers to help file for the council and exams to prepare for. but as his best friend, you would often make it up to him, going to his games to support him and giving him notes that he needed for the classes he missed. you were even helping him study for his own college exams on weekends.

your parents were getting concerned, worried that you were spending too much time outside on weekends instead of resting home. one time, before you left, your mom stopped you, 'why are you doing all this for bokuto? he's perfectly capable on his own, you know.' you stopped, remembering all the times bokuto would run to you for help on a subject, the times when he would call you to ask about a question. you liked how he depended on you, and deep inside you knew that a part of you depended on him too. you knew that if he decided to stop talking to you, he would be taking a piece of you with him.

you didn't get to answer your mother, only smiled at her as you left home for bokuto. but ideas were already swimming in your mind. you wanted to be with him for as long as god would allow you. if bokuto hadn't realized your feelings for him yet, you were going to take matters into your own hands.

which was how you found yourself on the school rooftop on the day of his birthday. today, you were going to confess. you spent weeks planning the event, even asking akaashi for help. you needed the younger boy to ask the coach to excuse bokuto in training and luckily, the coach agreed.

bokuto was confused as to why he was being excused, but only got an instruction from akaashi to go to the rooftop. so with hesitant steps, he went upstairs. when he got to the top floor, bokuto knocked on the door before opening it, revealing a surprised you as laid out the drinks and homemade food on the picnic blanket.

'what is going on here?' he arrived too soon for your liking and you were flustered. you hadn't finished setting up the plates yet, haven't even set up the music on your phone. but bokuto stepped forward, 'is this...'

you jumped up, extending your arms around your head and shouted, 'happy birthday, bokuto!' he stood still for a minute, digesting what was happening then he was walking towards you and scooping you up on your feet in an embrace.

the two of you laughed as he twirled you around, 'bokuto! stop, i'm gonna get dizzy!' when he put you down, he looked at you affectionately, 'thank you so much for this! you are the best!' and without missing a beat, you said, 'i love you, bokuto.'

you saw as his eyes grew wide, stepping a few feet away from you and you dreaded that he was going to reject you. he was walking in circles now and you were getting anxious for the lack of reply. so you went to him, grabbed him by the shoulders to stop him in tracks. 'did you hear what i said?'

he nodded, but still kept silent. you continued, 'well, are you just going to ignore that?' you were unfair, bokuto thought. he pouted and looked down to avoid your gaze, 'but i wanted to be the one to say it first.' now it was your turn to be shocked, and before you knew it you were moving closer to give him his gift.

your hands on his cheeks and the touch of your lips on his caught bokuto by surprise. it took him a while to register it but here you were, the love of his life, kissing him. seconds passed and he was kissing you back, he put his hands on your waist, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. he moved one hand to caress your cheek lovingly.

when he pulled away, he gave you a peck on the forehead. smirking, he declared, 'be my girlfriend?'

you wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his nose, 'i have been waiting for you to say that.' this time he blushed, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and he thought about what did he do to deserve you.

'this is the best birthday ever.'

[that-bi-bitch-writes]

The Rumor Around Hogwarts (Ch.4)

Chapter Four: The Train Ride There

1k+ Words a lot of it is taken from the book but as always I added a lot of [Name] in to make it.... chaotic and slightly angsty

Still uses he/him pronouns for now and later addition of they pronouns will be announced before the chapter. Hope you Enjoy!!!

Last  //  Next

“What the actual hell- Ow, heck i meant heck.” [Name] choked out while rubbing the back of his head

“Mhm sure you did”

“Anyway you mean to tell me I have to run at a wall.”

“Yup”

“In a muggle train station”

“Yes”

“In the middle of the day?”

“Look, do you want to go to Hogwarts or not?”

“I mean I do but-”

“If you don’t you’ll only disappoint Harry” [Mother’s name] interrupted

[Name] hesitated before responding “I’m sure he’ll be fine he like defeated an evil lord as a baby of course he can run at a wall and make other friends”

“[Name] if you miss the train I’m not taking you to school myself”

And just as [Name] seemed like he’d be okay with that aspect (anything to not embarrass himself in public really) all his hopes were completely crushed

“And I’m not taking you back home to ride on the house elf express”

“Okay but if I die or embarass myself I’m gonna have to find a way to jinx you or something. Maybe i’ll tell that weird muggle mailman you find him cute and force you to flee the country”

“You wouldn’t”

“That’s what you think”

[Name] seemed to gather the courage of all his ancestors (may they rest in peace) and ran straight at the obvious death trap. He had a chosen one to meet after all. He closed his eyes right before impact only to have his senses assaulted by the sounds and sights of something completely unexpected

‘Wow' he whispered under his breath

“I told you so”

“Alright alright I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. But I mean you’re not exactly the most trustworthy. If I needed someone to help me cover up a crime maybe, but a prank that could end in bodily harm..”

[Mo. Name] pretended not to hear a word as she fussed over [Name], the train departing soon. She’s a mother, she couldn’t help it. After running down a long list of things [Name] should have (And did) pack in his trunk she gave a forehead kiss and pushed him off to the trains. As he got on she did the unthinkable.

“Bye baby!! Momma loves you. Tell Peeves I said Hi’

Yeah [Name] definitely wasn't gonna be popular now. At least… not in a good way. There’d be rumors around hogwarts. And he’d be in the center of them.

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

Harry sat alone in an empty compartment after all the hustle and bustle that came with parents seeing their children off for the first time. And could’ve sworn he had heard someone say something about being peeved. Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted when the door of the compartment slid open and the youngest red headed boy he had seen earlier came in.

“Anyone sitting there?” he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. “Everywhere else is full.”

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn’t looked. Harry saw he still had a black mark on his nose.

“Hey, Ron”

The twins were back

“Listen we��re going down the middle of the train- Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”

“Right,” mumbled Ron.

“Harry,” said the other twin, “did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later then.”

“Bye” said Harry and Ron. the twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

“Are you really Harry potter?” Ron blurted out

Harry went to nod but the compartment door slammed open once again

“Harry there you are. Thank God I found you.” [Name] gasped out “My mother totally embarrassed me as I was getting on the train screaming about someone named Peeves and she called me BABY. Anyway I’ve been trying to find you without drawing to much attention to you or myself.”

Harry had wondered how [Name] had said so much in one breath. He didn’t know [Name] to be particularly talkative. He of course had his moments when he’d stand up for someone but Harry had always seen name as a little bit of a worrier or an outsider like himself.

“Sorry." [Name] said almost as if he read Harry’s mind “It’s the nerves. I’m super glad that you’re not alone but I’m also jealous I didn’t get to you first.” [Name] continued as he moved to sit next to Harry.

“What were we talking about? Oh yeah he was asking about your chosen one status which is kind of cool and lame at the same time. Is that offensive?”

“Have you really got - you know?” He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared. And surprisingly [Name] did too.

“Y’know as close as we are for two people who only met twice, I realized I haven’t gotten a good look at you Harry.” [Name] realized turning all of his attention on the resident Chosen One

Harry and [Name] stared at each other for a moment. [Name] was curious as to who the boy who lived really was and why he was drawn to him. It was like they were meant to meet up. At the Zoo, in Diagon Alley and now hopefully they would remain on the same path at Hogwarts too.

Harry on the other hand was staring at [Name] in appreciation. They were strangers, yet [Name] came to Harry’s rescue so naturally. Ron was to be a good friend to Harry, he’s sure of it, but it was different with [Name]. Their friendship wasn’t founded on titles, or reputations, or anything but mutual respect and destiny perhaps? If he were more naïve he might’ve attributed this feeling to a crush.

“So that’s where You-Know-Who-? Ron interrupted the staring contest

“Yes” said Harry “but I can’t remember it”

“Nothing?” Ron said eagerly.

“Well- I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else.

[Name] got incredibly bored of the topic, not really keen on discussing Voldemort’s attack on Harry so he began looking out the window like the main character. Only catching flashes of the conversation and adding his own commentary when appropriate. Apparently Ron had 5 brothers and a little bit of “a lot to live up to” but being friends with the chosen one was sure to give him some stories to tell..

[Name] didn’t interrupt with much about his family because he’d already talked about his embarrassing mother and there was nothing else to talk about but his incredibly large and empty house which would have made him a little uncomfortable and slightly awkward. Y’know since he was talking to an orphan and a poor kid with a huge family. How could either of them relate?

What he did however pay attention to was Harry’s bravery and generosity. Apparently he was only a little bit of an oblivious idiot. Sure he proudly said Voldemort’s name (a trend [Name] hoped to follow) but he was smart enough to realized in the wizarding world at least he was rich and could splurge a little bit on the less fortunate *ahem* Ron *ahem*

“Go on, have a pasty” said Harry, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron, eating their way through all Harry’s pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten.)

“What are these?” Harry asked Ron and [Name] holding up a pack of chocolate frogs. “They’re not really frogs, are they/” He was starting to feel that nothing would surprise him

“No” said Ron “But see what the card is. I’m missing Agrippa”

“He has no idea what you’re talking about, look at his face” [Name] laughed out. Ron followed his line of sight and chuckled at Harry’s confused face as well.

“Oh, of course, you wouldn’t know - Chocolate frogs have cards inside them, you know to collect - famous witches and wizards. I’ve got about five hundred, but I haven’t got Agrippa or Ptolemy.”

Both Harry and [Name] removed the cards from the chocolate frogs. Harry got Dumbledore which set his curiosity aflame once again. [Name] kept his a secret for dramatic effect of course. After answering his questions Ron asked for a chocolate frog as well only to get Morgana.

“Well Ron” [name] started “if you show me a trick, I’ll give you this” flipping over the card Ron’s eyes went wide at the sight of a Ptolemy card.

After a long conversation about the dangers of eating Bertie's ever flavored beans (which [name] would never even touch) Ron eventually worked up the courage to perform a spell when the toadless boy from earlier appeared, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth.

“We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” said Ron, but the girl wasn’t listening, she was looking at the wan in his hand.

‘Oh god.’ [name] said to himself as the girl’s thoughts assaulted him and drowned out the obvious awkward silence in the car ‘this girl may have redeeming qualities, or at least I’m hoping she does but she needs to get over herself’

“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.”

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback

“Er- alright” he cleared his throat

“Sunshine daises, butter mellow, Turn this stupid fat rat yellow”

He waved his wand but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell? Said the girl. “Well it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but…

[Name] having heard most of this speech in his head already tried to tune her out and gave a snort at the end of her rambling when Harry and Ron looked at each other incredulously. Only a little offended when he heard Harry's comparison of Hermione to the nervous [Name] earlier

They all introduced themselves but Harry’s introduction led her on another tangent about him not looking himself up as if this was a common thing to do?? Then she asked what houses they thought they’d be in before leaving, taking the toadless boy with her. Poor Neville.

“Whatever house I’m in, I hope she’s not in it”

“I doubt we’ll be in the same house Ron” [Name] realized “you’ll probably be in whatever house your brothers are in”

“Gryffindor” Ron spoke up

“Right, and Harry will probably be with you where as I’ll end up in Slytherin probably”

The car went silent a bit before [name] spoke up again “I know what you’re thinking. Literally. I never had a Ptolemy card. I only said that because I wanted to show off my powers as a legilimens. I can see into your mind basically and I made you see what I wanted you to see. Don’t worry though I won’t like brainwash you or anything. Wouldn’t want to be a typical Slytherin and end up a dark wizard.

[Name] got ready to flee the cart after that whole speech and he could tell Ron felt kind of guilty but [Name] couldn’t risk Harry hating him. He was going to the house that produced Voldemort after all. He rushed out of the cart as some blond entered probably because Hermione had spread the rumor about seeing the chosen one.

Before [Name] knew it he was facing his newest worst enemy. The sorting hat.

[harringtonstudios]

you’re perfect.

plot: the famous life isn’t for everyone, sometimes the comments can get to you.

A/N: i got distracted while working on a request haha! let me know your feelings :) 

reminder: you are all beautiful the way you are, no matter what anyone says. there is inner beauty hiding in corners of your skin, and outer beauty glowing, lighting you up.

taglist: @iamdorka​ @no-shxt-sherl​ @bakerkells​ @lovemythsworld​ @rosegoldrichie​

Dating a celebrity came with its own struggles. You’d been with Machine Gun Kelly for almost a year now after meeting him through a mutual friend. It had all been surreal, you’d know this kid since high school and now he was playing guitar on stages with actual rockstars. He’d invited you to a recording session where he had introduced you to Kells.

It had been a rollercoaster after that, flying across the country to go on dates, sitting backstage at rock shows, getting to hang out with this generation’s greatest artists. You two had made it official after six months of the coolest dates you’d ever been on in your life. Honestly, half the time, you’d have preferred to sit on the couch and watching a shitty Netflix special, but you knew this was his lifestyle and you didn’t really mind. 

That was until the paparazzi started.There had been nights where both you and Kells had been fucked up, tripping on some kind of drug, trying to walk your way across the path to the Lyft you had ordered as people gathered around you shouting. Other days, you would be enjoying a bagel, laughing at Colson’s dumb jokes when a camera would come straight into your face, asking you about rumors. Once, you both had just left his house when three reporters had stopped you in your tracks, focusing their cameras on you as they started filming. Those days you would feel thrown into the spotlight, awkward in your skin, bees buzzing in your mind.

You had tried to get use to the ugly comments and the nasty posts that came with dating Colson. It was hard at first, trying not to search your name and see what came up. Sometimes you wouldn’t even have to search, people would tag your Instagram in posts, making fun of the way you looked on a certain night or criticizing your features. You didn’t really fit the criteria of being famous, a bit bigger than the models that usually walked around in LA, acne scars dotting your cheeks, frizzy hair usually flying around your head. 

In the beginning, it had gotten to you fast. People calling you talentless, spamming your comments with gold digger, theorizing on twitter that your relationship wasn’t real because why would Kells fuck with a girl like that? 

It had hurt, left you spiraling, spending days sitting next to Colson in the studio completely numb. You would just sit on the couch, scrolling through comments, trying not to let your insecurities get the best of you. The fans weren’t necessarily wrong, you didn’t have a special talent, you weren’t beautiful by any standards, and you had kinda just showed up out of nowhere. 

-

Sipping on the coffee Colson had bought you this morning, your eyes widened as you stopped at a particular comment. The user had typed it in all caps, screaming through the screen about your weight. It was on a picture Colson had taken of you, sitting in a bathtub, bubbles sitting on top of your head. You read the comment once, twice and then suddenly your phone was being taken out of your hands. 

“Baby, I asked if you wanted to go on a walk with me?” Colson repeated, looking down at you while loosely holding your phone in his hands. 

“Uhm, yeah,” you mumbled, reaching up to grab it.

“Nope, this is a no-phone walk,” he responded, turning around to put your phone down on the table. As soon as he lifted the screen up to his face, you grimaced knowing he was going to see the comment you’d been looking at for the past five minutes. 

“Wait, what the fuck,” he murmured, running his thumb over the screen. “Who the fuck wrote this,” he scoffed, turning back around towards you. 

“It’s not important. C’mon let’s go on this walk,” you responded, trying to smile as you got off the couch. 

“Nah, we’re not going anywhere till I find out who’s been talking shit about you online,” he said, plopping himself down on the couch. 

“Cols, it’s not that serious. I mean it, I don’t even read that shit,” you tried to distract him, extending your hand out to get him back up. 

He gave you a look over your phone screen, and you could see the anger brimming in his eyes. You sighed, sitting down next to him. You two weren’t going anywhere soon. 

Kicking off your shoes, you pulled your legs under you, shifting to face him. “I just get a couple of mean comments every now and then. People hate on things they can’t have, you know?” you tried to rationalize, watching him scroll through your comments. 

“Baby. These aren’t just a few. What the fuck, why didn’t you say anything,” he looked up straight at you, and you looked down at your lap trying to avoid eye contact. 

“Cause I mean they’re not wrong,” you muttered under your breath. 

“What?” he questioned, leaning down lower to catch your eyes again. 

“Nothing, what would have happened if I told you huh? You would have beat up the big, bad bullies? Newsflash, not everyone is going to just fucking love you,” you bit out, voice cracking as you tried to fight through the feeling in your throat. You didn’t want to cry, not here in his studio. 

He was quiet for a beat, then two and you bit your lip, knowing you had fucked this up. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that,” you mumbled out before continuing, “they’re just internet trolls. I’m really trying not to let it get to me. I’m trying hard, but some people are just mean and I can’t fix that.” 

He cleared his throat and then you could feel his arm wrapping around you, pulling you closer. You moved in, shifting so that you were pressed up against his side. Your head rested right around his shoulder, and he softly pulled at your hand. You could see your fingers shaking just a little and you were so tired of letting everything get to you, so you closed your eyes, letting your head fall back. His fingers intertwined with yours and you could feel him rubbing at your knuckles. 

“You’re fucking perfect. Everything I’ve ever wanted and needed in my life. There’s nobody else I’d rather be with,” he spoke into your ear. 

Your eyes were still closed, but you felt a blush rise on your cheeks as he continued. 

“All these flaws they comment on? I love them all. You’re just so real, realer than anyone I’ve met in this city.” 

You felt his fingers touch your chin, slightly tilting your face to see his. Opening your eyes, you saw the clarity in his blues. 

“I think I love you,” you blurted out, eyes widening when you realized what had just fell out of your mouth. He let out a little laugh, and you could feel yourself turning even more red, burning up. 

“C’mere,” he mumbled, squeezing your hips a little, pulling you even closer. He kissed you, hand resting on your warm cheek, stroking his thumb back and forth as you kissed back. The words sat unspoken between you. He wouldn’t say it yet, you knew it, but you could feel something loosely resembling love as he pushed into the kiss, breaking off only to kiss your forehead. 

“Why don’t we show these haters something,” he muttered, moving his hips up so that he could get his phone out of his back pocket. 

“Ayo, Rook, bring your ass here,” he shouted, and you heard a cymbal crash followed by the studio door opening. You laughed as Rook showed up, beanie skewed on his head. 

“Take a coupla picture of us,” Kells instructed, throwing his phone up in the air. Rook caught it and then you were being lifted onto Colson’s lap. 

“Hmm?” you whispered, as he placed both his hands on your hips. 

“Kiss me,” he responded back, smirking and you smiled. Kissing him softly, you cupped his face in your hands. You could hear the sound of Rook taking pictures in the background and you couldn’t help but laugh just a little as your lips met Colson’s. 

“Get a room fuckheads,” Rook shouted before lobbing the phone back your way. It hit the couch and you broke the kiss off, reaching for it. Before you could get it, Colson grabbed it, laughing as he looked at his camera gallery. 

“Holy shit, these are GOLD,” he barked out, swiping. 

“Lemme see,” you reached out your hand, trying to get a glimpse. 

“Nope, you just have to wait,” he winked as he opened up the Instagram app. A part of you tremored with the anxiety of it all, you got enough hate without being publicly posted on his social media, but another part of you was excited, knowing that no matter what you had Colson on your side. 

A minute later, he nudged your shoulder with your phone and smiled as you took it off his hands. Going on Instagram, you went to his profile. Laughing, you clicked on the picture he had posted. Your hands were on him, focused on kissing. One of his hands was wrapped around you, while the other flipped the camera off. The caption read, “None of y'all got anything on her.” 

You liked the photo before grinning at him. “You’re my knight in shining armor,” you said in a mocking tone, raising your hands to your chest, posing. 

“Well then princess, let’s go slay the dragon,” he responded before picking you up. 

“Colson, wait, my shoes,” you shouted, laughing as he brought you to the door. 

Everyone needed a little reassurance sometimes, and your goofy boyfriend knew exactly how to cheer you up. There was nothing better than this and your heart beamed at the pure love you felt from him. Flaws and all, you had something special here and you had never felt this happy before.

[shwazzberryswriting]

Sweet Treats

Pairing: Jeno x Original Female Character|Reader

Genre: Meet-Cute (sort of), Fluff, AU - Non-Famous Jeno

Word count: 2.4k

Rating/Warnings: Teen (12ish+)/Kissing

Prompt: Random Word Generator

*Must be about Jeno

*Must be 2k words (overshot it ROFL)

*Use these words (random word generator):

-main

-mutual

-organ

Author’s Note: Thank you to my friend for their patience with me taking forever to get this prompt fufilled! It wasn't from a lack of inspiration. Hot Sauce era gave me a lot of fuel for Jeno!

--------

If Suyuan could make a dessert to represent her cousin’s bake sale, she’d bake a Keylime Pie. The middle school’s front entrance was lined with thick green grass that glistened in the sunlight. The late spring breeze carried the scent of the lime trees nearby, tingling her nose.

The PTA was throwing a Mountain Retreat Bake Sale to raise funds for a weeklong mountain retreat for the 6th grade class. Fen, Suyuan’s cousin, should have been setting up the baked goods under the tent, but the 12-year-old was having too much fun playing with her friends. They were currently bullying a man who seemed to be related to Fen’s best friend, HaeWon.

He wore black skinny jeans and a loose white and black striped knit sweater. His black hair fell over his eyes as he grimaced a smile. He was trying to dance along to an Itzy song, but the kids were booing him as he refused to do “aeygo”. Suyuan grinned as she recalled how she and her classmates would tease their older cousins to do cute dances to entertain them. It was a circle of life to be forced to do cute dances at various points in one’s life.

“Fen, I think we have to set up the lemonade, too,” Suyuan called out, setting a sign down on the table as she stood up. “Give that guy a break, too! We’re helping you for free, you know. I should have told you to buy me Starbucks.”

“Jeno Lee! Jeno Lee! You can’t dance!” Fen and HaeWon chanted. The main bullies had even started a dance where they sashayed their hips. They stopped once their friends began to retreat back to pick up their tasks.

“Thanks,” Jeno Lee said with a shy smile as he walked away from his red motorbike to join her under the tent. “I’m Jeno.”

“Suyuan,” she replied, waving her hand. “I’m Fen’s cousin. How’d you get roped into this?”

“My aunt and uncle helped me with my bake sale when I was 13,” he replied. He began helping Fen and HaeWon line up trays of cookies on one of the white topped plastic tables. “HaeWon should buy me some Starbucks, too, I think.”

“I don’t even have a credit card,” HaeWon replied, looking over her shoulder to glare at him.

“Suyuan helped me bake these strawberry macarons!” Fen exclaimed, setting the cookies down beside the blueberry jam thumbprint cookies. “My mom and I made the shortbread cookies.”

“Did you have to do this?” Jeno asked as he sat down to help make the signs to indicate the prices of the baked goods.

“No, for our school trip we pitched our trip to family members, Shark Tank-style,” she replied.

“What?” he sounded incredulous as he stopped writing on the white board to stare at her. “Your school turned it into a Economy project?”

“It was fun. I mostly used cute pictures of me in my slides and I kept saying, ‘You’re investing in my future and well being,’ enough to make my parents emotional. It annoyed my siblings and other relatives enough that they handed me at least a couple dollars before I could finish my pitch.”

“Smart,” he said, looking impressed. “Do you know how to write DanPatBbang?”

“My mom made a huge batch!” HaeWon spoke up as she pointed to the golden buns wrapped in clear plastic bags.

“Um, no,” Suyuan replied. “We can write Sweet Red Bean Paste Buns. We’ll find someone to write it the correct way. They look amazing, HaeWon! Your mom told me you made the paste.”

“I also brushed the egg wash on,” she said.

Fen and HaeWon took over all the tasks Suyuan and Jeno started. Soon enough, Jeno and Suyuan were seated behind the pastries and water cooler filled with lemonade, chitchatting. They exchanged war stories about their 6th Grade Mountain Retreat. Jeno’s class were locked in their dorms for a few hours as a family of bears foraged around their camp for food the first day they arrived. It sounded more exciting than what really happened, he claimed.

Jeno seemed captivated as Suyuan told an elaborate story about her group’s river raft ride. Their raft capsized partway through the ride, and her group had to walk their way back to camp with nothing but an old compass as help, all of them soaked to the bone. Suyuan had sprained her ankle, and cried her entire walk back to camp, which had been roughly a half mile walk.

“It’s funny now,” Suyuan said as Jeno chuckled into his fist, “but I was miserable for the rest of the trip.”

“How many days did you have your ankle sprained?” he asked, picking up a sugar cookie and taking a bite.

“That’s a dollar fifty,” she said, holding out her hand. His eyes widened as he stopped midchew.

“All I have is my debit card,” he replied, spitting out crumbs into his fist.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she scolded gently, leaning over to grab a napkin that sat behind him. Her chin bumped into his shoulder and she jumped back immediately.

“Sorry!” they exclaimed in unison. She threw the napkin over his mouth as he spat out more crumbs.

“Let me get you some water,” she said, standing up to walk over to the cooler near a table where HaeWon and Fen were standing. They were talking to some of their classmates, Fen staring at the blue haired kid holding a skateboard. “Can I buy a bottle of water?”

When she returned to Jeno, he was biting into strawberry danish. He thanked her for the water, and gave half of the danish to her.

“I’m going to spend $10, and I’ve eaten $3’s worth of pastries so far,” he reasoned, picking up a scallion pancake Suyuan’s mom made for the bake sale. “These are good. I’d love some kimchi with this.”

“Do you think someone’s auntie brought her own jars of kimchi to sell here?” she asked, sitting up straight to crane her neck around.

“I’d smell it before either of us see it,” he said, pointing to his nose. “Maybe in an hour? It’s good to have people filter in late. My uncle says it keeps the flow going and the food fresh.”

“Your uncle gave you economics lessons anyway,” she said, impressed.

As the day wore on, Fen and HaeWon began whistling Red Velvet’s “Red Flavor” whenever they came around Jeno and Suyuan, to the point that Suyuan had to bribe Fen with $20 in cold hard cash to leave them alone. Jeno was very kind and gentle, but his absentmindedness led to a chaotic energy. Jeno’s card was declined when his aunt showed them how to use electronic transactions on her iPad.

He realized he’d been using his Student credit card’s PIN when the card was declined for a third time. Suyuan poured Jeno a cup of lemonade as he had to call his bank to explain why his card had been declined three times. His face was flushed as he took a sip from the purple straw in the cup she handed him.

“Thank you, yes, I’ve got it,” Jeno said after 15 minutes of transferring to 2 different departments of customer service. “Auntie, I think I’ve solved it. I’m going to buy $10 extra for these pastries.”

“It was that bad?” Suyuan asked as Jeno picked up one of the bao buns Suyuan had made with her aunt and mom. “Those buns are $2.”

“OK,” he said through a mouthful of food.

“You never learn,” she said with a grin, handing him a napkin. “Chew, then speak.”

“These buns are so good, I love the barbecue pork,” he said, staring at the red filling. “This bake sale is probably more legit than the China Town in the city.”

“I haven’t been there in years,” she said. “I heard they opened a Korean patisserie near that tacky karaoke bar.”

“Jeno,” HaeWon called out, waving from the playground behind the tents they’d set up, “how do you shoot from the three-point line?”

Some of the kids had arrived with a basketball, and they watched as Jeno made shot after shot on the basketball court. After making a basket from every angle the kids requested, Jeno handed the basketball back to HaeWon. Despite teasing Jeno earlier, it was obvious that HaeWon looked up to him a lot. She showed it in her own special ways.

“Did you want to go get some boba?” Jeno asked, holding his hand out to Suyuan. “My mom and aunt are relieving me of my duties soon.”

“My mom’s on her way, too,” she replied, taking his hand. “Perfect timing.”

When Suyuan’s mom arrived, she eyed Jeno on his red cruiser motorbike.

“Be safe,” her mom said pointedly before hugging her. “I heard Jeno’s quite polite, but...be safe.”

“Oh, mom, calm down,” Suyuan sighed, giving her mom a grin. “You know Jeno’s parents well enough.”

“A motorbike,” her mom mouthed silently as Fen and HaeWon walked by. She rolled her eyes.

“I’ll text you, mom. Bye, Fen! See you, HaeWon!”

“Don’t kiss him too much,” Fen uttered out and HaeWon laughed as the pair ran off at the sight of Suyuan glaring at them.

Her annoyance disappeared as she saw Jeno sitting against his bike, holding out a helmet to her. His grin made her chest feel like it was growing, and she thanked him in a soft voice as she took the helmet. True to the rumors her mom heard, Jeno politely helped Suyuan secure her helmet on, and checked with her that she felt secure before starting the engine to his motorbike.

She pressed her body close to him as his body warmed her. She smelled the blueberry on his shirt, perhaps due to the slice of blueberry pie he’d accidentally spilled onto the left sleeve of his sweater. It took everything in her not to sit up and kiss his cheek as they stopped at a red light.

Once they reached the boba shop near the church one of her aunts volunteered at, Suyuan slowly slipped her hands away from Jeno’s body. She was afraid to admit to herself that she enjoyed her time on the ride with him. It was better than her time with any significant other she’d ever been with, even her boyfriend of 8 months during her freshman year in college.

The church organ music playing in the distance reminded her to stop her imaginations from going too wild as she watched Jeno brush his hair out of his eyes. As they sat on the picnic table near the boba shop, Suyuan asked Jeno questions about his bike, and how he got into riding motorbikes.

“My Engineering final had me do a group project,” he explained between sips of his watermelon slush. “We refurbished an old Honda Fury. We were docked a grade for turning our Shop project into our Engineering project, too.”

“That’s bullshit,” she said with a grin. He laughed in agreement. “Is it easy to ride a motorbike?”

“Easy enough,” he said with a shrug. “You have to go in without so much doubt and fear, and then you’ll be confident in your riding.”

“You’ll have to teach me,” she said, sidling up close to him. “How were we able to miss each other when we were teens?”

“You traveled in the bookish crowd, and I was with the jocks and gamers,” he replied.

“What does that mean?” she asked, feeling her cheeks turn warm.

“We had Algebra 101 together but you were home sick for the first 3 weeks,” he said. “I had a small crush on you, but I never worked up the courage to talk to you. I wanted to ask you to help me with my homework. I’m not good at math.”

“We went to school together?” she asked, shocked that she had assumed that they were mutual strangers when they met that morning. “I’m sorry. My teen years were my confused queer years. I spent all of high school crushing on girls and boys, and I didn’t know if it meant I was a lesbian or bi...or something else along the queer spectrum.”

“So do you have it figured out?”

“Um,” she grinned at him as he threw his arm over her shoulders, “I’m OK saying I’m bi, but I know that things are never set in stone.”

“I’m glad we spent today together,” he said, resting his hand on her chin, pulling her close to him. He kissed her. “I had to wait for my cousin to tease me for you to notice me.”

She laughed against his lips, kissing him as she rested a hand on his shoulder.

“You wouldn’t have liked angsty me anyways,” she admitted, pulling away from his kiss. She wiped her lipstick stains off his lips with her thumbs. “I wasn’t prepared for a relationship as a high schooler. Did your crush return today?”

“It was when you stood up to my bullies,” he said, his cheeks flushing pink.

“Our cousins?”

She laughed before planting a wet kiss onto his lips. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and requested he take her home.

“For the record,” she said, taking his hand and kissing it quickly, “I think I crushed on you at the same moment. You were putting up with the kids’ bullying so well.”

She held on tight to him, relishing the feel of his back as she pressed her cheek against it, hearing his heartbeat against her ear. His body felt firm, and his sweater was soft, although a bit itchy. Once they reached her apartment complex, she got off the bike and handed his spare helmet back to him.

“Thank you for bringing me home safely,” she said. Before he could respond, she kissed him, pressing her tongue against his lips. He pushed back immediately, his lips capturing hers.

“Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow?” he asked when he broke their kiss. She licked her lips, tasting a hint of sweet red bean paste. “No pressure.”

“Pick me up at 6:00 PM?” she asked. She kissed him, and his hand reached up to touch her cheek.

“It’s a date,” he breathed out as they rested their foreheads together. “I should let you go home. I want to be a gentleman today.”

“I can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” she said before caressing his earlobe. She kissed him. “Text me when you get home?”

He kissed her one last time before they broke apart. As she walked up the stairs to her apartment her mind clouded with thoughts of Jeno’s lips on hers. He was warm, like the bright spring sun. The scent that radiated from him was grassy and refreshing, energizing her in the same way the scent of limes did. Jeno Lee was her perfect Keylime Pie.

------

Thank you always for reading!

[hockeylvr59]

Wanting Whispers || Paul Bissonnette

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Needless to say I have been in a Biz mood and well certain someones have been talking innocent kink on my dash recently and that led to this. It’s a lot. Gif possibly by @plasticfilth​ but not sure because I found it on google? Also, this is probably the longest one-shot I’ve ever written so...

Warnings:  smut smut smut and more smut

Word Count: 8,235 

_________

It had happened so slowly but at the same time all at once. Months of chirps and insinuations ending with you flat on your back screaming his name. 

You’d heard rumors that Paul Bissonnette lived in your building when you first moved in, but it had been over a month and you hadn’t actually seen him. That all changed on a Friday night when you heard music blaring in the apartment above you. Yes it was a Friday, but you had a paper for graduate school due Sunday night and you were nowhere near finished. This was possibly the absolute worst weekend for your neighbor to decide to have a party. With the help of noise-canceling headphones, you were able to block it out enough to spend a few more hours working but eventually, your body started to fade and as you gave up deciding sleep was in order it was clear that the party was raging just as much as before if not more. Though you didn’t want to be that person, you really needed some sleep so after slipping on a sweatshirt over your pajamas you threw on a pair of sandals and grabbed your apartment keys, making your way over to the elevator and up one floor. 

Having reached the upper level of apartments, it was abundantly clear which one contained the party as the volume of the music increased. Knocking on the door you ran your fingers through your hair and waited for a response. By the time it was tugged open you were ready to give up but as the door gave way your eyes met the broad figure of the man you’d heard about. His eyebrows merely raised at your presence and you bit back your nerves as you looked up at him. 

“Listen...I’m your downstairs neighbor and I’d really like to be able to get some sleep tonight so can you please turn the music down a little bit. I have a 30-page paper due on Sunday and I really need sleep if I have any hopes of getting it done.” Your ramble was met with a critical gaze but eventually the man in front of you nodded. 

“We’ll turn it down.” He promised and after murmuring your thanks you disappeared back down the hall. By the time you reached your apartment again, the music was at a more manageable level, one that could be blocked out with some white noise finally allowing you to pass out as soon as your head hit the pillow. 

~~~

Though you hadn’t run into Biz prior to the party, since then it seemed like you were bumping into him in the lobby every other day. The first time you’d thanked him again for turning the music down and he’d asked how your paper had gone. The second you’d bumped into him as he was bringing a woman home when you’d caught the elevator just before it closed. It wasn’t until you were inside that you realized your neighbor had his tongue down a woman’s throat and immediately your cheeks flushed scarlet. You weren’t sure he’d even noticed you but as you stepped out of the elevator you heard him speaking your name telling you to have a good night. 

Eventually your random meetings became not so random. One afternoon Biz was showing up at your door to request you keep an eye on his place for him and bring his mail in while he was out of town. When he returned, he appeared at your door once more, this time a bottle of Pink Whitney in hand in thanks. Eventually payment for his favors progressed to dinners in his apartment and he’d become less of a stranger and more of a friend. There was an obvious age difference between the two of you and his latest hookup had pretty much become his girlfriend but you didn’t have many people in Arizona and while his cooking skills were subpar, he certainly knew how to make you laugh and could distract you from the pressures of school. 

Nearly a month of this level of friendship continued before Biz started in on the less innocuous subjects. Though it was clear that he knew what he was doing, the way he slipped them into conversation was subtle. One night it was inquiring if you had a hot date for Valentine's Day, the next it was a casual mention of how tense you seemed. Each time he alluded to your personal life a flush covered your cheeks and you quickly changed the subject throwing the conversation back at him. And each time he complied, changing the subject but his expression furrowed as he did so. 

Eventually things ended between him and the woman he’d been seeing and though it didn’t really change things, it did mean that you found yourself at Paul’s apartment more or that he was in yours. With more time in closer contact, there were more occurrences of innocent touches and grazes as you moved around your kitchen cooking dinner or as he tugged you down onto the couch to watch a hockey game. 

It had been nearly six months since you’d met Paul and he’d invited you up to his place to celebrate finishing the semester of school. An incredible dinner had been picked up and though he was cutting back on his drinking, he’d opened a bottle of wine for the two of you to toast with. Dinner and wine had ended with the two of you settled into his oversized couch as he flipped through tv channels. Instead of settling on one, suddenly he’d turned the tv off and instead shifted his body to face you. 

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer.” Confusion filtered across your face but after a moment you hesitantly nodded. “When’s the last time you got laid?” He inquired and immediately your cheeks burned red in response. At the same time, a low chuckle slipped from his throat and he shook his head. “Fuck I can’t tell if the flush just means it’s been a while or…” He trailed off and when your blush deepened he almost growled. “No...no fucking way.” He mumbled to himself. 

Feeling yourself starting to shut down, you pushed yourself to your feet. 

“I uh...I should go. Thanks for dinner, Paul.” You whispered, trying frantically not to cry as you started for the door. 

“Y/N. Wait.” Paul stated, his fingers ever so gently wrapping around your wrist. “I’m sorry. That was invasive...I just...you’re always so tense and almost withdrawn around me and I just...forget it. I’m sorry okay.” Nodding, you sent him a forced smile before pulling your wrist back and grabbing your things to head home for the night. 

~~~

With Paul once again leaving town, it was a few days before you spoke, though even that was through text messages. Feeling slightly guilty for just running out on him you sent a short apology. A little while later your phone buzzed in response. 

PB: No worries. My question was invasive and I’m sorry it upset you. Not judging you for it...just a little confused. 

YN: What’s confusing about that? 

PB: I mean is it because you’re like saving yourself for marriage because I totally respect that….

YN: You can say you think it’s a stupid idea. Because I can’t say I disagree with you. 

PB: So you’re not?

YN: No. 

PB: Then what gives?

YN: Why don’t you just think on that for a minute Paul.

For a few hours your phone remained silent and you tried not to think about everything you’d just implied. Instead you’d reached for a glass of wine and by the time Paul did respond, you were just on the wrong side of tipsy and your tongue was loose. 

PB: I got nothing. But if you want to explain I’m all ears, if not that’s ok too. 

YN: I’m not waiting for marriage but I am waiting for mutual attraction and trust. Needless to say, I’ve found neither. 

PB: You’re saying there’s never been a boyfriend you wanted to bone? 

YN: I’m saying there’s never been a boyfriend. 

PB: Girlfriend then? 

YN: I’m exclusively into men Paul. 

PB: Damn. 

You really didn’t know what to say to that so you dump your phone on your bed and by the time you return after brushing your teeth and washing your face you find a second notification of a message from your neighbor. 

PB: Another question you don’t have to answer. Have you even been kissed? 

YN: No. 

PB: Fucking hell YN. That’s just. That’s insane. 

YN: Gee thanks, Paul…

PB: You know I don’t mean it like that. God is there anything you have done? 

YN: Uh yeah...I mean. I’ve sent/received some risque photos, I’ve had phone sex, I’ve sexted. I’ve gotten myself off. 

When you didn’t receive a response right away, immediately the fear of having said too much started pushing down on you. Suddenly your phone rang and glancing down at the caller id you saw Paul’s name. You couldn’t remember him ever actually calling you before but your thumb hovered over the button for only a moment before you accepted the call, bringing your phone to your ear. Nothing but the sound of Paul’s breathing followed and for a moment you almost hung up figuring that it was an accidental dial. Then he spoke, his voice deep and throaty. 

“Fuck YN. You’re killing me right now.” He said. The sound of your name rolling off his tongue in this tone of voice was not something you’d heard before but your stomach coiled unconsciously at it all the same. 

“What did I do?” You whispered, biting gently at the corner of your bottom lip. 

“You tell me you’ve never been kissed and then admit you’ve had phone sex and touched yourself. That’s so fucking hot y/n and I almost can’t believe it.” Though you knew Paul didn’t mean any offense by the end of his statement, he once again hit a sore spot and you felt your breath strain in response. 

“Why is it so hard to believe that men have never wanted me? You’ve seen me.” You shot back, all of your insecurities of being 27 and eternally single crashing over you. 

“It’s hard to believe because I have seen you and gotten to know you YN.” Paul declared his voice losing some of his deep tone only to be replaced with softness. “You’re fucking gorgeous for one. And you’re one of the best people I know. Any man that turned down a shot with you is a fucking moron.” 

“Paul stop, please. I can’t...I can’t handle any more sweet words that have no real backing. I know you mean well but please...don’t just try and make me feel better.” 

“Trust me sweetheart...I’m not just trying to make you feel better,” Paul said, his voice nearly sinking into a groan. “There’s nothing sweet about how much I want to use my mouth, my fingers, my cock to make you fall apart. To see you experience just how good being physical with someone can be.” 

A gasp spilled from your throat and you found yourself breathing his name. 

“Yeah? You want that beautiful? Want me to make you see stars, to shatter you with pleasure?” Once again his name slipped from your throat, almost in a plea. “Yeah, baby? Are you attracted to me? Do you trust me? Promise I’ll take good care of you.” Your skin was on fire at his words and your brain was foggy with the mental image of him on top of you. 

You were just about to agree. About to give him anything he wanted when he spoke one more time. “How many glasses of wine did you have tonight baby?” 

“Three.” You admitted almost instantly, your mind and body pliant to whatever he wanted to know. 

“Then don’t answer me tonight. Sleep on it, think it over with a clear head, and get back to me.” For a moment you wanted to protest, you were plenty capable of consenting now, but Paul once again stopped you. “I don’t want to do anything that will make you uncomfortable so I really do want you to take the time to think about it when your head isn’t fogged over with booze and lust. Tonight doesn’t have to change anything between us if you don’t want it to.” 

As the phone line went dead, you tugged your blankets higher on your body, your mind racing to process what had just happened. 

~~~

It had been nearly a week since your phone call by the time Paul returned to town. He hadn’t reached out to you and though you wanted to, you hadn’t reached out to him. After spending a week lost in your own mind as you weighed the pros and cons of it all, you finally found yourself standing in front of Paul’s door, your hand lifted to knock. 

Within a moment of your short knock, the door flew open revealing a shirtless Paul. At the sight of him all of the questions and thoughts that you’d had running through your head vanished...except for one. Before he could even greet you, you had pushed your way inside his apartment, your hands wringing nervously. 

“I just have one question.” You exclaimed, your voice cracking. “Do you seriously want me?” You watched as Paul stepped closer to you, his hand reaching up to sweep a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Even that simple touch sent sparks through your body and you couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that you’d never felt safe when a man touched you, however innocently, until now. Any sort of touch had previously made you feel uncomfortable but right here and now you couldn’t help but want Paul to touch you everywhere. 

“I seriously want you.” Paul insisted, his body moving a step closer to your own. “But more importantly...do you want me? Do you trust me?” Immediately you started to nod but Paul refused to take that for an answer, his gaze pressing you to provide him with verbal consent. 

“I do.” You immediately breathed, Paul’s left hand settling on your right hip in response. Your pulse was racing, unsure of whether your consent meant anything was going to happen right now. With your gaze locked on his, you watched as Paul leaned forward, his eyes dropping to your mouth before his lips pressed gently down onto your own. Though you saw it coming, you still gasped in response and that action allowed Paul to deepen the kiss as his hands pulled you firmly against his body. Having never been kissed before, you tried to mirror his movements, hoping that that would be okay. 

You were breathless when Paul finally pulled away and though his eyes were dark, he simply dropped a single kiss to your forehead before stepping backward. 

“Just a little something for you to think about.” He teased. Your lips were swollen and your eyes blown as you gazed up at him and he only smirked in response. “We’re gonna do this right so be ready tomorrow night at 7 for dinner. Wear a dress or a skirt for me.” He instructed, and though you hadn’t expected any of this to include all of that, you found yourself nodding as you moved to leave Paul’s apartment. 

You knew you should run errands or do laundry but instead you curled up on your couch unable to stop thinking about the way it felt to have Paul’s mouth pressed against your own. 

~~~

Dinner the next night went far better than you expected it to. Conversation with Paul was as easy as it always was, but now there was an underlying current ready to light you up with a single spark. From dinner, the two of you returned home and sitting in his passenger seat, the anxious feelings of what you expected to come filled you. So when Paul simply walked you to your door, dropping another gentle kiss to your mouth before pulling away, you were slightly surprised. Sensing your confusion Paul chuckled softly before leaning down to whisper in your ear. 

“As much as I want to drag you to bed...especially when you look like this...I’m not going to.” He explained. “I want you to be completely comfortable with me and I get that means taking things a step at a time. I know you y/n...I know you’re freaking out and overthinking every single physical act and that’s not what I want. I want it all to feel natural and right for you.” 

The fact that Paul clearly cared so much about even your unspoken needs reaffirmed that you were making the right decision. 

“Come inside for a bit?” You questioned and after examining your body language Paul eventually agreed. Grabbing a few bottles of water from the fridge you met him over at your couch and settled yourself in beside him, tucked against his side. With his gaze heavy upon you, you took the initiative to make the first move and shifted to kiss him. As your mouths explored each other’s Paul’s left arm draped itself around you, securing you to him while his right slid just under the bottom edge of your dress. The heat from his body urged you forward and gradually the two of you settled into a steamy makeout session, one that caused your skin to tingle. The more you kissed, the more comfortable you became and by the time Paul pulled away, his eyes were hazy and dark. 

“You’re getting good at that.” He teased softly. “A little too good.” He added, slipping his hand from where it was resting on your thigh to reach for the water you’d set on the coffee table. Watching his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, you basked in how his dress shirt clung to his skin, showing off just how strong and broad he was and as your eyes trailed down his body you noticed him straining against his pants. Watching you watch him, Paul surged forward with another kiss, the press of his lips against yours mostly sweet with a tinge of desire. “I should go.” He eventually murmured and though you didn’t want him to pull away, deep down you knew that he needed to because if he didn’t you’d be delving into waters deeper than you were honestly ready for. 

“Alright.” You agreed. “Thank you, Paul. For dinner. And for this.” 

“‘Course sweetheart. Anytime.” He replied and from your spot on the couch, you watched him leave, flipping the latch to secure your front door behind him. 

~~~

One week. One week and a beautifully tailored suit. That was what it had taken for things to rise beyond the level of just kissing. 

Paul had stopped by your apartment on his way home from a matinee game, just like he stopped by whenever he arrived home for the day lately, even if only for a few minutes. The moment you’d opened your door, you immediately felt your body respond because this was a suit you had never seen before and god did it do all the right things for him. 

Tugging him through the door, you’d pulled him down into a kiss. There was a twinkle in his eyes when he finally pulled back, like he knew just how much he was affecting you right now. Which to be honest he probably did know. Still, even if he knew his appearance was affecting you, the words that left your mouth next left him speechless. 

“Take it off Paul. I wanna explore you.” You’d been thinking about it for a while now and you knew that you needed this to be the next step. You were comfortable with your own body, you were comfortable with your own touch so you knew that his attention on you wouldn’t be that shocking. It was the male form that was new and you were certain that if you wanted to be comfortable having sex that becoming comfortable with all of him was key. Everything else seemed secondary. 

When Paul didn’t respond to you right away, you felt a small smirk growing on your lips at the thought of throwing him off-kilter even a little. Stretching onto your tiptoes you kissed along his jaw and your fingers anchored themselves in the fabric of his dress shirt. Paul’s silence didn’t last long and eventually, he nodded, his lips capturing your own once more. 

“Whatever you want sweetheart.” He agreed and immediately your fingers started fumbling to undo the buttons on his shirt. The moment your fingers met his hot skin, everything felt a little foggier, like you were already drowning in him. “Easy baby.” Paul murmured, sensing your desire. His fingers worked to assist yours in undoing the rest of his buttons and it was only a moment more before both his suit jacket and shirt were draped over the back of your couch. 

Tracing both your eyes and your fingers over his body, you focused on how tan his skin was, how the ink of his tattoos sprawled over his arms and abdomen, and how the hair on his chest felt under your fingers. He was all man and he hadn’t even taken his pants off yet. 

“See something you like?” Paul teased and lifting your gaze up to his, you watched as he once again swallowed hard at the look in your eyes. “Fuck.” He groaned and hearing that sound only made you want to know what other sounds he could make. Your hands quickly fell to his belt and you bit your lip trying to focus on undoing the leather restraint. Before your hands could fall to the button and zipper of his pants however, Paul was lifting them away from his body. “Should we take this to the bedroom baby?” He suggested and though waiting even one more moment to continue undressing him seemed like too much you sighed in resignation. 

The delay was made a little more bearable when Paul’s hands fell to the back of your thighs and he lifted you to wrap your legs around his waist. From this position you could feel him straining in his pants and you couldn’t help but moan at the thought of what was waiting for you, hidden from sight. Since the floorplans of your apartments were the same, it was easy for Paul to make his way back to your bedroom, not stopping until he had gently laid you back onto your bed, hovering over you to kiss you once more. With your hair sprawled across the pillows you felt him groan against your neck and in between kisses to your skin he murmured about how this could happen here but sex was happening in his bed because he wanted to see you writhing and shaking in his sheets. It seemed like a silly distinction to you but if that was what he wanted, you were more than happy to comply. 

First though, you had some exploring of your own to do, so after kissing him for another minute or so you gently pushed him off of you, signaling for him to roll onto his back. And to be honest, it was almost too much just how large he seemed in your full-sized bed. Perching over him, you pressed another kiss to his lips before wandering down his exposed body, exploring everything your eyes and fingers had before in a new way. A moment’s pause was spent over each of his scars, though that moment was longer when you reached the scar on his wrist that nearly cost him his life. It was hard to think of a world without this man. It was hard to think of your life without him and for just a breath you gave into the tears forming before you kissed over the scarred skin once more and then pulled away. 

Glancing up at Paul revealed a concerned gaze but after pressing your lips against his quickly, he relaxed, smirk returning to his face. Not once did he urge you for more, letting you explore him completely at your own pace but when your fingers finally found the button and then the zipper of his pants, his breath hitched. After a silent communication, he lifted his hips allowing you to tug his pants down over his legs and while you were at it, you slipped both his shoes and socks off of his feet leaving him in only his boxer briefs. 

This was the first moment in which you’d felt even the slightest bit intimated, because while you’d watched porn and had previously been sent a few dick pics, this was your first time seeing one in person and even the outline of his penis through the thin fabric sent a wave of anxiety through you. 

“C’mere.” Paul breathed, seeing your hesitation. Sliding back up his body, you accepted his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled your mouth down to his own. “We can stop whenever you want.” He reminded you and though your voice was tinged with a certain level of fear it was mostly defiant. 

“I want to keep going.” You insisted. Nodding, Paul kissed you once more, deeper this time, and as he swept his tongue against yours, his free hand grasped your own, guiding it to touch him through his underwear. With your brain focused on the way he was kissing you, there wasn’t any room to worry about anything, though your body was quickly registering how hot he felt in your hand, how solid but yet soft he was at the same time. You didn’t even fully realize that your hand was moving at all until you felt the sensation of skin on skin as you slipped your hand under his waistband to stroke him. 

“That’s it baby.” Paul groaned in your ear when your kiss broke and you turned your head to look down at where your hand was acting of its own accord. Though you could feel every bump and ridge under your fingers, it wasn’t enough and you pushed past the momentary anxiety to free him from his briefs, tossing them to the floor and exposing him to you for the first time. Initially you weren’t sure what you were thinking or feeling  as you peered down at his solid length. You may have had small hands, but girth wise you could barely wrap your fingers around him and lengthwise he was longer than your palm from fingertip to wrist. In your mind it was a good size and the way his cock curved slightly leading up to the uncircumcised head was appealing. If you had looked up, you would have noticed Paul’s slightly worried expression but you didn’t, too absorbed in the sight of all of him spread out for you and only you. 

The shifting sunlight through the window revealed a drop of moisture leaking from the head of Paul’s cock and instinct drew you to rub your thumb over the moisture, pushing Paul’s foreskin further out of the way. His only response was a hitch of his breath but you continued, trailing your short nails over his length lightly, almost in awe of the way he twitched against you. Exploring him was such an empowering feeling, knowing that his pleasure was entirely in your hands. You stroked him gently, let your hand drift down to cup his balls and even kissed your way from base to tip, your mouth feather-light against his skin. 

Having completed a preliminary exploration you looked up at him to see his eyes dark as he watched you. Kissing his tip once more you watched his response, your own blood pulsing through your veins as you watched his arousal heighten. 

“What do you need me to do?” You questioned softly. “Talk me through this Paul.” Your request drew a long groan from Paul’s throat. 

“Up to you baby...I’m happy with either your hand or your mouth.” Growing low in your belly was the primal need to make him cum and it was all you could really focus on. The slightly salty taste of him lingered on your tongue and though you knew your gag reflex would likely be a problem, you wanted to blow him, wanted to feel the swell of him in your mouth. Licking over his head once more, you parted your lips and focused on keeping your teeth out of the way as you sunk down on him as much as you could. It was a strange feeling but you repeated that action twice before shifting your hand to stroke what you hadn’t fit into your mouth. Though you were certain this definitely wasn’t the best blowjob, Paul kept muttering praises, urging you to keep going, to stroke your hand against him in a certain way, to pull back and breathe. 

You continued, doing your best to follow his instructions and feeling him twitch in your mouth as he groaned and grunted above you. Eventually though, Paul’s fingers in your hair drew you off of him and guided you up to kiss him again. 

“Just use your hand sweetheart. I’m so close. Want you to watch me.” Your toes curled a bit hearing that you were close to making him cum and you nodded, resting your head against his shoulder as you slipped your hand back down his body to stroke over his dick. Once more he directed you to do more of this or less of that and after brushing your thumb over his head once more you watched as his body shook and semen spilled from him as he moaned heavily in your ear. You couldn’t explain the pride you felt at being the cause of his orgasm and though a bright flush littered your cheeks, you kissed him again before sliding off the bed to wash your hands and retrieve a warm, wet washcloth for him. 

Letting him clean up, you settled back in bed next to him and let him curl you against his body as he napped for a few minutes while his body recovered. When he stirred he was eager to check in with you about what you were thinking, what you had enjoyed about that, ect. The way he was openly communicating with you and urging you to do the same with him only made you feel more secure and ready to share all of these experiences with him. 

~~~~

When you’d met Paul, the last thing you’d expected was for him to be the gentle, caring, dare you say romantic man who put all of your needs above his own. But so far, you had yet to see him act selfish, yet to see him do anything that he thought would make you uncomfortable and because of that you were flourishing under his attention, growing in your sexuality and as a person generally. 

You’d always thought that it would take you a significant period of time to open up to someone regarding being with them physically, but it had only been a couple weeks since Paul made his interest in you clear and you were beyond ready. Still, Paul had made no mention of anything further happening, continuing to let you set the pace. And you’d been dropping hints. Every single time you saw him. But he seemed to be completely oblivious. 

Or maybe he was less oblivious than you’d thought. Because you’d come home today to find a box sitting outside your door and when you’d gotten inside and opened it, hidden underneath a layer of tissue paper was a satin slip with lace around the bust. It was mostly white with a floral print and it was both sexy but modest all wrapped into one garment. If finding lingerie outside your door wasn’t enough to make you blush, the note tucked inside the box was. 

Clean yourself up, dinner will be ready for 7:30. I can’t wait to see every inch of you. 

Paul

Following his directions, you rushed into the shower, taking the time to shave leaving your skin silky smooth. Applying just the faintest coat of makeup, you teased your hair into some loose waves before sliding on the lingerie and then slipping into a little black dress over it. By the time you finished getting ready it was almost 7:30 and as you peered at yourself in the mirror, you had never felt sexier. Making sure that you had taken your birth control for the night, you slipped into a pair of sandals and grabbed both your phone and your keys before heading upstairs. 

Paul called for you to come in when you knocked on his door and you entered to find him pulling a dish out of the oven, snug jeans covering his bottom half while a white button-up was pushed up to his elbows. He looked incredible and you dropped your things in the entryway, slipping your shoes off before padding over to him barefoot. The moment you reached him he leaned down to gently kiss you and then murmured for you to go sit at the table. Shortly after, you had a plate of food in front of you along with a small glass of wine and a large glass of water. It didn’t take a genius to see that tonight was the night but while you’d thought you’d feel nervous, you just felt ready...that spark in your stomach just waiting to be lit. 

You laughed at Paul’s stories through dinner before helping him clean up the kitchen. As you finished putting the last dish away you realized that Paul had disappeared and when you went looking for him, you found him finishing lighting candles in his bedroom, blankets pulled down to the foot of the bed for easy access. 

“Paul…” You breathed, almost in awe that he was going to all of this effort for you. He cursed softly at the sound of your voice before turning, an almost sheepish look on his face. “What’s all this?” You continued, your body drawing you closer to his. As you pressed yourself against his chest, his right arm slipped around your waist and he bent to press his forehead to yours. 

“I know you probably didn’t expect all of this...nor do you think you need it.” He murmured and you had to admit he was right on both accounts. “But…” He continued. “If I’m the lucky son of a bitch that gets a shot with you I’m gonna do everything I can to make it good for you.” Your heart swelled at his words, at the fact that he was honestly going above and beyond anything you could have expected. 

“Can’t wait to see just what your definition of good is.” You teased, closing the distance between your mouths to kiss him. His lips on yours was definitely something you weren’t sure you could ever get sick of and while there was a nagging thought as to what would happen after tonight, you weren’t about to let that ruin things. What would come tomorrow was a problem for tomorrow’s version of you, tonight’s version of you was looking forward to having her brains fucked out. 

You honestly weren’t sure how long you stood beside Paul’s bed kissing, but eventually his hands slid from their spot at your waist down to your ass and he gently lifted you to set you onto his soft mattress. Finally breaking away from your mouth he leaned back and you watched as his eyes took in your body. 

“Give me a minute to memorize the way you look right now.” He mumbled and once more you felt your cheeks flush in response to him. You weren’t sure you’d ever get over being looked at like this. And you weren’t sure you wanted to. 

After a moment, Paul bent back down and you felt his breath against the shell of your ear before his mouth dipped to kiss and suck at the sensitive skin along your neck. “So beautiful.” He murmured and with one hand sweeping light trails along your side and over your arm you already felt your desire for him growing. But as impatient as you were feeling, you let him take his time, the same way he let you take your time with him. Thankfully, Paul sensed your impatience and after the dancing around each other that honestly felt like it had been going on forever, even if it wasn’t long at all, it was clear that he was just as ready to move things forward as you were. 

He’d thoroughly marked your neck up by the time his hands drifted down to the bottom of your dress and with a smile and a nod that layer of fabric was removed, leaving you in nothing but the slip and a thong you’d pulled out from the very back of your drawer. Paul groaned the second he saw you in the lingerie he had purchased and you saw the second his eyes darkened when he realized that your nipples were already pebbled through the thin fabric. 

“See something you like?” You teased, repeating his words from the first time you saw him. Realizing that you’d just thrown his own phrase back at him, Paul laughed and your smile widened. You’d never thought intimacy could be so easy and comfortable but with Paul, it was all of that and more. 

“I see things I more than like.” He finally responded and you moaned as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples through the thin fabric of the slip. In all the time you’d spent exploring your own body, you had never gotten as much pleasure from massaging your own breasts as you’d gotten from less than a minute of Paul’s attention on them. With your body arching into him, his large hands slipped behind your back for a moment to pull you closer to him. He continued, swapping to your other breast after a while until you were practically panting under him. 

“Paul please.” You whimpered and he smirked up at you. 

“Yeah, baby? What do you need?” He teased. “Trust me baby...I’ll destroy you all in due time.” His words were only turning you on more and you reached down to fumble with his button-up again. 

“Goddamnit Paul...take your shirt off.” You whined, wanting nothing more than to feel his bare chest pressing down on you. His smirk softened a bit and he rested back on his knees as he worked his shirt off of his body before laying back down over you, pressing some of his weight onto your body. 

“That what you want?” He asked. Your fingers scraped along his scalp as you nodded before quickly dropping down to run over his shoulders. He was so sexy and there was still a part of you that couldn’t believe that you were getting to feel him like this. 

After making out for a few more minutes, Paul’s hips rutting down against your own, he pulled back and started kissing down your body, flicking his tongue over your nipples once more before settling himself between your spread thighs. Just the sight of him there made you shiver but true goosebumps appeared over every surface of your body as he kissed from your knee to the crease of your thigh before repeating the action on the other leg. 

“You’re so wet for me.” He commented, his thumb pressing over the lace of your thong right where you needed him most. “So wet for me.” He repeated. “But I’m gonna make you fall apart on my mouth and my fingers just like I promised.” His eyes sought consent once more as his fingers slipped under the edge of the thong and when you moaned his name the fabric quickly joined the other pieces on the floor and for the first time you were truly exposed to him, only the slip still covering your body. “Stunning.” He declared, his hot breath dancing across your skin making you more and more needy for him. 

You’d thought you were prepared for this...but there wasn’t anything that could prepare you for the way Paul’s mouth felt as he dove into your core. It was obvious that he knew exactly what he was doing, but not only that, that he truly enjoyed it as well. His forearm draped across your pelvis to keep your hips in place as he worked your body over. You’d never orgasmed this fast before but within only a few minutes you felt yourself spiraling over the edge as his tongue fucked into you. He worked you through your orgasm, tongue soothing gently over your heated flesh while licking up all of the juices he’d drawn from you. Then for a moment, he kissed at your hip, letting some of your sensitivity ebb. 

Your break had barely begun when he slipped first one and then a second large finger inside of you, curling them and flexing them to stretch you out for him. As he did so, he moved back up the bed to kiss you and for the first time you tasted yourself on his tongue. It was dirty but sexy at the same time and you couldn’t control the endless string of moans against his mouth as he pushed you closer and closer to your second orgasm. 

“You’re so sexy.” Paul groaned and glancing over you could see just how much he was straining against his jeans. Reaching over you flicked open the button and gently drew the zipper down, hoping to provide him with some relief. The release of pressure was clearly appreciated because Paul’s fingers sped up inside you and you felt your second orgasm behind to crest. “That’s my girl.” Paul murmured against the skin of your neck. “C’mon baby. Come for me again. Let me feel you clench around my fingers just like you’ll clench around my dick. You’re so goddamn tight baby.” Whether it was his words or the way he curled his fingers to press against your g-spot, you were soon seeing stars and you cried out loudly as wave after wave of pleasure rushed through you. 

When you finally settled, you found Paul gazing down at you completely in awe. “You didn’t tell me you’re a squirter.” He groaned and an embarrassed expression graced your face. Having wiped his fingers on the sheets, Paul’s hand slipped into your hair and he tugged your mouth back to his. “No...none of that. You don’t know how fucking sexy that is Y/N.” He insisted. Though your cheeks were still flushed you focused yourself on Paul’s kiss, moaning as he nipped at the skin of your lips. 

“You’re so expressive, baby. I can’t get enough.” He assured you, his hands sliding to tug the satin slip up and off of your body. When he didn’t speak at first, you felt the nerves creeping back in but they were quickly silenced by Paul’s string of expletives as he eyed you. “You. Are. So. Sexy.” He repeated kissing each of your breasts and then down over the swell of your stomach before returning his mouth to yours. With the fire rising in your veins again, stronger than ever before, you slipped your hands down to push his jeans off over his ass before cupping him through his boxer briefs again. 

“I swear Paul if you don’t fuck me soon…” You trailed off. Paul wore a devilish smirk and he trailed his hands over your body. 

“What are you gonna do?” He teased. A frustrated whimper slipped from your throat and you squirmed against the sheets trying to quell the aching feeling that was starting to drive you crazy. “Answer me, baby.” Paul pushed, his thumb slipping down to put just the slightest amount of pressure on your throbbing clit. 

“I’m gonna explode.” You whined. A second whine escaped you as Paul climbed off of the bed and he chuckled softly at just how desperate you were for him. 

“Just give me a second sweetheart.” He insisted and you heard the sound of fabric hitting the floor and a nightstand drawer opening before Paul was beside you again, his fingers brushing away the frustrated tears that had slipped down your cheeks. You were feeling so much and yet it wasn’t enough and you truly felt like you were going to burst if something didn’t happen soon. 

Paul’s thumb lifted your chin, bringing your eyes to his own and then he guided your hand to help roll the condom down over his length. “You need to relax for me Y/N.” Paul directed. “This shouldn’t hurt but it might sting a little and I just need you to relax and focus on me. I promise you I’m gonna make you feel so good.” The sound of his words was grounding and you nodded, not sure whether to watch his face or the way his body connected with yours. Feeling the pressure of his cock head at your core had you choosing the latter and you gasped as he slowly pressed inside you, your body taking him eagerly. There wasn’t any feeling besides pressure, besides feeling full and you moaned at the knowledge that this was as close as you could ever be to another person. 

When you looked up at Paul’s face you could see him watching you, could see the strain to remain still. Brushing your thumb over his cheek you nodded up at him. 

“I’m good Paul. Promise.” You insisted. “Please move.” His shoulders slumped a bit in relief as he drew his hips back before thrusting forward again. The pace he set was slow and easy but it was already providing delicious friction. The way his body pinned you to the bed as he fucked into you made you feel so small and you were overwhelmed at all of the feelings rushing through you. 

When Paul shifted your legs to wrap around his waist, he slid even deeper inside of you and you cursed, tears prickling in your eyes. Immediately Paul froze, scared he had hurt you but you kissed him softly in reassurance. The feeling of him that deep didn’t hurt, it was just more than you had expected and you were certain you were going to feel him for days. 

As the friction built, so did the pleasure and gradually your moans grew louder and came more frequently. In turn, Paul’s pace increased just slightly and his grunts in your ear were swapped for the sound of his voice pleading for you to cum, praising you for just how good you felt wrapped around him. And just when you thought it couldn’t get better, Paul kissed you and though you hadn’t seen it coming, your orgasm hit suddenly causing your body to bow beneath him and a shriek of his name to spill from your lips. A low groan and a twitch of his cock inside you signaled that he had spilled into the condom and he collapsed half on top of you and half beside you as your bodies struggled to come down from their highs. 

With Paul’s face nestled into your breast, you laid there for a few minutes before he gingerly pulled out of you causing you to wince. The bed shifted as Paul moved to discard the condom but eventually, he returned, gathering you in his arms to carry you to the bathroom. He instructed you to pee and then guided you into the shower to quickly rinse off. By the time you’d returned he’d changed the sheets on the bed, the candles had been blown out, and a t-shirt was laid out for you to change into. 

Tugging the t-shirt over your body, you let Paul pull you back onto the bed and he tucked you into his chest. 

“You were incredible.” He whispered. “That was incredible.” It was a relief to know that he enjoyed that as much as you had, but now that the deed was done you couldn’t help but wonder what, if anything, came next. It wasn’t that you would ever regret this, there was no way you could when it had been so perfect. If you had lost your virginity as a teenager there was no way you would have gotten three orgasms from the experience like you did now with him. It was well worth the wait in your mind and you could only hope that the delay in getting here had been worth it for him as well. 

Sensing your mental turmoil, Paul groaned and shifted to tangle your bodies together further. “Turn that brain of yours off.” He grumbled. “I still have a million other things to teach you, don’t I?” 

It was just like Paul to quell all of your worries with one stupid phrase. There were so many things he could teach you...about sex and about life. If he was willing, well, you certainly weren’t going to turn it down. Not when it felt like this. 

[gloriafc]

Paul imprinting on an ex-girlfriend

You've known Paul practically your whole life. The two of you started dating your freshman year but broke up your junior year. It was a completely mutual thing, and the two of you decided to stay friends.

There's no awkwardness between the two of you at all. If you see each other in the hallway, a simple hey is said and you keep going on with your day. The two of you can sit next to each other in class and joke around no problem. If he needs to squeeze past you he's not shy to touch your shoulder letting you know he's passing.

You're the one person who knows his label as a man-whore is false. That all the stories are from girls who wish they had him, mere fantasies. He's definitely more of a relationship guy and being faithful.

The only problem, when you broke up, guys would come to you trying to get some thinking that if Paul's a man-whore you must be easy. In turn you'd just roll your eyes and walk away uninterested. If guys continued to bug you, not leaving you alone, and Paul and his friends just so happened to be walking past, lets face it he knows you well enough to know when someones bothering you, he has no problem interfering. He’d be quick to walk between you and whoevers bothering you, throwing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you along with him until you turned a corner, letting you go and the two of would part ways.

If anyone were to ask, neither of you wouldn't have a problem admitting that you still have feelings for each other. But you both wouldn't try something to ruin the friendship you still have.

When he disappears for two weeks, you can admit you're a little bit worried. You know sometimes he can have problems at home but who are you to stick your nose in business that is no longer yours.

He ends up showing up to one class and you can tell he's completely out of it. He quietly asks you for the notes he missed before going completely stiff. You want to ask him if he's okay but decide against it seeing that he looks like he just wants to go home.

The whole period you watch as he grips the desk before grabbing his bag and bolting out of the class once the bell rings.

You gotta admit though, seeing how he's physically changed, he's hot. But there's something about him now that's making your feelings grow for him again.

You still have clothes of his from when you dated, he just never tried to get them back due to no lot being able to fit them when you took them. You don't go out with them on but you aren't afraid to admit that you wear them around the house, or if it's a lazy day and you're making a quick trip to the store.

When he finds out that he imprinted on you he paces Sam's living room, not knowing what to do. And Jared being no help.

"Dude just tell her! She already dated you. You said it yourself that the two of you are still friends, so what's the problem?" "How am I supposed to tell my ex girlfriend oh hey I turn into a giant wolf who picked you as my soulmate let's get back together."

Emily pushes her way in between the two boys, giving Paul advice that'll hopefully solve his problem.

"You cared about her right? After you broke up, before you imprinted on her." "I mean yeah. We only broke up because our relationship felt rushed. We both agreed to end things mutually, were still friends because we've known each other for forever practically." "Go with that. You still cared for her, she must still care for you too. Just talk to her about the legends, explain them to her. And go from there. She's not some random girl you ran into on the beach. You already know her, you have that bond with her already. You've already skipped the first step in getting to know her, and already have a level of comfort around each other. Now it's just telling her. Your souls knew what they were to each other before the two of you did."

Kim watches the whole pep talk from Emily. She thinks of Paul as a brother, but she's also friends with you. She can practically see the wheels turning in Paul's head, debating on actually telling you.

"Just tell her! Before she leaves. We're seniors and she's valedictorian. I've heard she's gotten accepted to maybe nine colleges out of state and she's still deciding on which one she wants to go to. She got a full ride to Washington, if you tell her she'll stay here and you get to have that relationship you once had with her."

It doesn't take him long to head over to your house, knowing your parents still have the same jobs and you're most likely home alone.

What he doesn't expect is to see you open the door in one of the first sweaters he gave you, his mind instantly flashing to the day he gave it to you.

You were both in his room doing homework, when it started getting dark you decided to head home but it was cold and you forgot a jacket since it was hot earlier and you didn't plan on staying out as late. Paul was quick to fish out a soccer sweatshirt from middle school that was too small for him but fit you perfectly, and still does. When you promised to give it back he just shrugged his shoulders and told you to keep it.

"Hey, what's up?"

As soon as he sees your smile all of the feelings he had during your relationship come rushing back. He quickly looses focus on why he came here.

"Hey uh I was uh wondering if we could talk about something?"

You're quick to nod and slip on some shoes before closing the door, quickly syncing in step as the two of you take a walk.

Paul starts off with simple conversation until you reach a certain path that leads to a couple fallen trees that act like benches. He slowly starts explaining the legends and everything else to you. Just as he finishes explaining the imprint to you he looks up from the ground to look at you.

You're sitting there, quietly processing everything, staring at a spot on the ground and fiddling with the necklace his mom got you for Christmas one year.

"You okay?" "How is this possible? Like how do-?" "I know it's a lot. Especially if you're the one experiencing it first hand." "What does that make us then? If we're supposedly soulmates. We already tried the whole relationship thing."

How can he possibly tell you that before he phased he wanted to try and get back with you but just didn't know how? That he felt happier with you and now he knows why. That he enjoyed being your friend because it meant he was at least something to you.

So he just goes for it.

"I uh actually wanted to talk to you before the whole wolf thing." "About what?" "Us. I know everything was rushed, but I was happy and I know you were too, other wise we wouldn't of stayed friends. I feel like the whole imprint just confirmed things for me. It explains what we were feeling and why. I just wanted to-" "Try again?" "Yeah."

You've never seen Paul this nervous. The two of you spend hours talking. By the time your mom is calling you asking where you are, the two of you have decided to try the whole relationship again now knowing what is causing your feelings.

You ask questions the entire walk back to your house, Paul's arm thrown over your shoulder. It's almost like the two of you never broke up.

"Wait so how big are the wolves? Like regular wolves?" "Uh no, they're huge honestly. Probably the same size as a bear almost." "How does that work? The transformation." "Our bones break when we change and re-break when we change back. And the fur just appears." "Ouch."

After dropping you off he's back at Emily's, everyone can already see the little pep in his step and can only think that everything went well.

When Monday comes, your mom can't hide the smile on her face when Paul picks you up. She always loved the two of you together, but understood why the two of you broke up. What you and Paul don't know is that your and his mom's both had bets on when the two of you would get back together, and another bet on when you'll get married. Let's face it mom's know their children the best.

When people see you get out of his truck you already know the rumors are about to begin.

By the time lunch comes around, everyone knows you're dating Paul again. You can't help but roll your eyes anytime a girl looks at you the wrong way.

It's not long before random rumors about the two of you, but it's nothing new to you. They're the same ones that went around when you first dated. Even after the two of you broke up, you always thought he was the one for you, but now you know for sure.

[sunflowersunshinevol6]

Harry Styles x OC

Warnings: drinking

Summary: Mixtapes. We all love them. We have a different one for a different mood. A different moment in time. For Harry and Summer, they become the soundtrack of one beautiful summer in California and the definition of their relationship. Because the people you love never really leave, they're only a mixtape away.

Part One

Let me start at the beginning. I never would have met him if it wasn't for my roommate Halley.

We lived in Monte Nido, about three miles from Malibu. I had just graduated from Berkley and was looking to become a freelance photographer. Halley did the temp thing, it paid the bills and we could still have fun.

I woke up to 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' blasting from the boombox in the living room. Halley had just broken up with her boyfriend and I knew she was hurting, but I despised the song. It was overplayed in my opinion.

"Hey," she whined when I walked out of my room and over to the boombox, shutting the music off. She was in the kitchen, baggy misfits shirt hanging off her slim frame, black hair tousled and looking like she hadn't brushed it in weeks. I rolled my eyes, walking over to her and catching the plate she slid across to me. A bagel with cream cheese and a cup of coffee. The perfect morning.

"I'm tired of you moping babe. We gotta get you out of the house." She grumbled, playing with the ends of her hair.

"Maybe I should call him," she started towards the phone hung on the wall. I ran, beating her to it and slamming my hand over it. "Summer!" She said slightly annoyed.

"No. Not doing that." I grabbed her hands, tugging her back towards the kitchen. "Know what we need?"

"What?"

"A night out." I said, bumping foreheads with her. "When's the last time we went to a show together?" She shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. "Exactly. There's a new band supposed to be playing downtown at The Dome tonight. We should check it out." Halley chewed on her bottom lip for a second before nodding, giving in.

"I could use a girls night." I grinned, high fiving her.

I've always communicated best through music. There's something about a song that can just get what I'm feeling across in a way that words can't. My mom used to say I was born with music in my soul. We used to dance around the kitchen, Fleetwood Mac's Rumors on vinyl, blasting as we croaned, singing of heartbreak and hope. It was deep. It always has been.

Halley went to work, another gig at a vet's office and I grabbed my roller blades and headed outside, Walkman in my pocket, Dinosaur Jr's 'You're living all over me' blasting in my ears. I took off towards town, heading to the record store.

Big and Easy Cassettes and Vinyls had been around since the late seventies. It was my place, and my mom's. Even when she got sick I would drive her over and we would pick an album, just one new one to listen to on the way home. We'd come across a song that was too good plenty of times and would go around the block to finish it. The place was my home away from home.

The Psychadelic Furs 'Pretty in Pink' played over the speakers when I walked in. A couple people lounged around.

"Hey! Summer! What's happenin'?" Willy, the owner, waved at me from behind the register. He'd been a hippie back in the day, even lived at the Haight. He wore small circle rimmed glasses that were tinted and his afro was always a mess. He grinned at me as I made my way over to him.

"Hey man! Got anything new?" He nodded, pulling a box out from under the counter, the label on ot reading 'New Shit'. I opened it eagerly, looking through the tapes.

"How's Halley doing?" He asked.

"She could be better. We're going to a show tonight at The Dome." Willy nodded.

"Yeah? My buddy Mitch plays in the band. His girlfriend Sarah is drums."

"Really?"

"Yup. Could make a call. Get you guys backstage." I couldn't contain my grin.

"Thanks man." I grabbed a couple tapes, holding them out for him to charge me. He shook his head.

"On the house. This time."

"Thanks Willy."

"No problem. Tell Halley I said to have a good time. I'll call my buddy, let him know you're coming through."

Halley and I have always had a preshow ritual, but since she was working when I got home I started without her.

I put on my new cassette, The Cure 'Disentigration' and hummed along as I started making drinks. I was halfway through my third margarita when she came in the door.

"Hey!" She shouted. I laughed when she began dancing towards me and I handed her her drink.

"Willy knows someone in the band. He's gonna get us backstage."

"Are you kidding? That's fucking great!" Halley screeched jumping up and down. We danced around the living room drinking and singing the wrong lyrics. It's always good to hype up before you go out. Remember that.

We started getting ready around eight thirty, both of us slightly buzzed. I grabbed my favorite t shirt. An oversized Clockwork Orange shirt that was black and had the logo on the front in orange, a red plaid long sleeve and torn up Jean's with my mom's old converse. I'm not one for makeup much but I put brown eyeshadow on to make eyes look a bit sunk in, mascara and dark red lipstick. I let my black hair fall down over my shoulders and put on my favorite sunnies.

Halley was a bit more punk than I was. She wore a black mini skirt, ripped see through black mesh shirt with a black tank top over it. Her favorite dog collar around her neck and heavy eyeliner and lipstick, her favorite Doc Martens laced up her ankles, ripped stocking covering her legs.

"You look hot." I acknowledged, winking at her teasingly.

"Tell me something I don't know." She laughed.

"Show starts at ten. You wanna walk?"

"I'm up for that."

The Dome was the local bar. It was only about a mile away and we hoped the walk would sober us up as we went. We talked and laughed, excited at the prospect of hearing new music. Music had been the thing that brought us together in the first place. Our mutual love for Depeche Mode and Peter Murphy. It always seemed to me that music was the only thing that brought people into my life and kept them there.

We got there early enough to see people coming into the bar. We weren't sure if they were there for the band or for drinks. We didn't really care. We were young and looking for fun.

"I hope they're hot." Halley said as we took our seats at the bar. I laughed, rolling my eyes at her.

"The one named Mitch is taken. He's dating the drummer so you better hope you don't fall for him." She snickered at me.

"Hi ladies, what can I get you?"

"Two Jack in Coke on ice?" She looked at me and I nodded my approval. The bartender nodded, heading back to make our drinks. That's when I saw Willy's unmistakable afro making his way through the crowd and towards us.

"Hey ladies! Lovely to see ya." He kissed Halley on the cheek and then me before leaning against the bar beside us.

"Heard you can get us backstage tonight." Halley said, wiggling her eyebrows. Willy nodded.

"Sure can. Already told Mitch I was coming. Just gonna bring you girls back with me." I opened my mouth to say something else but the feedback from the stage caught my attention just as the bartender came up with my drink. I took a sip, watching as the lights dimmed and everyone's attention turned to the stage.

The band filed out. Three girls and three boys heading towards the stage. The guitarist had shaggy black hair and a full beard, dressed in bell bottoms and a baggy white tee. But it was the singer who caught my eye.

He wore beige slacks and a black button down tucked in, the first few buttons unbuttoned, a couple of tattoos poking out on his chest. His brown hair curled slightly but was slicked back and the rings on his hands glinted as he grabbed the mic stand. He was outrageously handsome.

"Oh my." Halley whispered. Oh my was right.

"Ello." My heart dropped into my stomach when he spoke, a thick english accent greeting my ears. "My mama's Harry. This is Mitch, Sarah, Ny Oh, Adam and Charlotte. We don't have a band name yet, maybe one day. But we hope you enjoy." Everyone laughed at his comment. "This song is called 'Ever Since New York.'"

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply as the song began. It was beautiful. My mom would have liked it.

"Tell me somethin'" his voice was sweet, carried along the melody that the band played. I opened my eyes, watching as he swayed to the beat of the music. Everyone was quiet, enraptured by this young man's voice.

"Wow." I heard Halley say behind me, I couldn't have agreed more. It wasn't dancey, not in the way that you could get up and shake your ass. No, it was the kind of song you listened to at home in the evening, with your lover perched on the counter while you stand between their legs, dinner cooking on the stove. It was comforting. It was....home.

When the song came to a close I was breathless, a weight placed on my chest, I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

A few songs in and he began a heavier song, one that we could dance to. He called it 'Kiwi'. Halley and I got up, dancing with Willy and laughing as he screamed into the microphone. I felt free, laughing with my friends and feeling like we were the only ones in the world.

I looked up at the stage after I flipped my hair to see him, Harry, eyes locked in on me. I held his gaze for a moment, blushing when he smiled at me before breaking eye contact. I smiled, turning back to my friends and feeling the music once more.

"Thank you all for a lovely evening." He said when the show was over. Willy gently took me and Halley by the arm.

"We can head back now guys."

The backstage area was small. Not a whole lot of room, but enough for the small indie bands that usually played. Halley and I stood to the side as Willy walked up to Mitch, shaking hands with him.

"These are my friends. This is Summer and Halley." We smiled, shaking Mitch's hand. He introduced us to the rest of the band but the singer, Harry, wasn't there.

"He's in the loo." Sarah said, a kind smile on her face. Halley started a conversation with Adam while I spoke with Sarah and Mitch. They were so sweet and kind.

"Hey, who's your friends?" I felt my stomach churn. Harry walked back in the room, a bottle of water in his hand as he eyed me and Halley.

"Friends of Willy. You've met him before." Harry shook Willy's hand before turning to me.

"I'm Harry." He held out his hand.

"Summer." I said. He smiled.

"I like that. 'S pretty." He held my hand for a moment too long, eyes locked on mine once more. Halley interrupted us.

"Hey, you guys got a place to stay?" Mitch shook his head.

"Nah. We were gonna crash in the car." I looked at Halley with wide eyes. I knew where she was going with this, she seemed so cozy with Adam already.

"No. No. You guys can stay with us. Crash on the couch or the floor. We're cool with it. Right Summer." I blinked, inside I was furious. I hated being put on the spot like that.

"Yeah." I said dryly. "Sure."

"Cool. We'll pack everything up then." Halley grinned.

"It's kinda small but there's room for everybody." Halley said as she opened the door to our apartment. I cringed inwardly. We hadn't even cleaned up, but the band didn't seem to mind. Everyone sat down in the living room while Halley and I went to grab extra blankets.

"You know I hate when you spring shit like this on me." I glared as she handed me a blanket and pillow.

"Oh shut up. Adam's cute and hey, I saw you and Harry having a moment."

"We were not...he was just greeting me." I said flustered. She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, they're our guests. Be hospitable."

We all sat around for a while, drinking and talking. Slowly everyone began to fall asleep, Harry and I being the only ones left awake.

We talked for what felt like hours. He told me about his parents, their divorce and his mom and step dad. His sister. How he knew he wanted to be a musician from a young age and when he met Mitch it felt like a sign from the universe. I listened intently, enthralled with the man before me.

"Tell me more about England. I've always wanted to go there." I was on my belly, propped up on my elbows while he sat on the couch. We'd been engrossed in our own conversation for so long that we hadn't realized everyone else fell asleep.

"Where I'm from is quite picturesque. It's a beautiful little town. Maybe one day, if you ever go to England you can come by."

"Maybe." I laughed. "If my photography ever takes me there."

"You have to have faith in yourself love. You'll do it." I was glad he couldn't see me blush in the dark. "I'm glad you came to the show." He said after a moment of silence between us.

"Me too." He shifted, laying back on the couch.

"This is probably weird. But I was wondering....would you like a cuddle? I hate sleeping alone." I was taken aback. But he seemed serious, green eyes looking at me curiously. I couldn't say no. How could I?

"Sure." I said, climbing up on the couch. I laid my head on his chest, slotting my body against his, he wrapped his arms around me, lifting his leg slightly to keep me up on the couch. I felt him nuzzle my head, he was smelling my hair.

"I like this...you smell nice." I didn't reply, only smiled, burying my face in his chest as we drifted off to sleep.

[borhap-au]

Only (?) friends with benefits. Rami Malek smut.

You were not even really friends when you started sleeping with Rami. You just had mutual friends, met at some party, then hanged out a few times, and then, well, ended up in bed. In the morning you realized it was not awkward between you, you just talked and laughed as if nothing changed. That gave you the idea of starting a sexual relationship without commitment.

You were usually at each other disposal. You didn’t make plans, you just spontaneously called each other when you were horny. It usually worked. You obviously met outside of it, at parties, sometimes had lunches together, or just hanged out with your friends. It wasn’t like you didn’t talk, you did talk a lot, you even texted and called each other. Especially when you couldn’t meet because one of you went somewhere, and you had the dirty talk over the phone. However, you could really talk about anything, even your own personal problems, and you often did. You confined in each other.

Maybe that’s why one day Rami started acting differently towards you.

So you tried to reach each other for a few days, but one of you was always busy with something or had other plans, therefore you had to postpone it. Finally one night you got the chance and you planned to take it. You arrived at his house in the late evening, and he opened the door without greeting you with a kiss, like he usually did. You thought that after so many days of wanting each other and needing each other you will start making out the moment the door was closed, but to your surprise it was not the case. You went to the living room and sat there. He offered you a tea or a coffee, but didn’t really start any other conversation. You knew something was wrong.

At first you thought about all the things you said in the past few days that could’ve upset him, but you didn’t find anything that could’ve caused his bad mood. Then you started thinking about the rumors he could’ve heard about you two, but then you rejected that possibility as well – Rami wasn’t the one to believe in rumors and he would’ve definitely asked you about it before making any assumptions. Yet he hasn’t said a word. Then you counted the times you said you couldn’t meet during those few days you’ve tried to meet. No, once again he was the one who was busy more and said he couldn’t meet you on more occasions. So what was it? Why wasn’t he saying anything about his bad mood?

You thought maybe he didn’t want to talk. So you reach out for a kiss and he did kiss you back, but it wasn’t the same as the kisses you usually got from him. It was reserved, offish, quite cold. You pulled back from the kiss, a bit disappointed.

But then he took the initiative. He leaned to kiss you, putting his hand on you thigh and petting it. Yet once again, it was not the same. You knew something was off, so you pulled back, once again.

“What is it? And don’t try to tell me ‘nothing’ ‘cause I can feel something is wrong. Something is different about you. So just tell me. Please?” you looked him in the eyes and he wasn’t even surprised you noticed. You got to know each other pretty well for the past few months. If something was different about you, he would have noticed it too.

“Is it about me?” you gave him some time to think about his answer, because apparently it was not an easy thing to say and you understood he needed some space to gather his thoughts. To your surprise, you didn’t wait long for an answer.

“Yes, it is about you” you looked down and nodded slowly. ‘So this is the end of us’ you thought and couldn’t even hide being sad. You would normally act like a cold bitch to hide the pain, but he caught you off-guard and you didn’t have the time to collect yourself. He got up, so you followed him. You thought he’s going to kick you out anyway.

“It was about you all this time” he muttered quietly under his breath, but somehow you were able to understand him. You didn’t know what was going on, therefore you weren’t sure if you should just go or not. However, after he didn’t add anything for a minute, you just proceeded to go to the door. He stopped you pinning you against the wall and kissed you.

You liked it rough and he knew it well. After all those months you were able to learn each other, each other’s bodies, and what you liked. You told each other things you never told any of your previous partners, and had genuine fun exploring all the fields you didn’t have the courage to explore before. He took you on his hands and you automatically put your legs around his waist. It was not the first time he pinned you against the wall.

“What did I do this time, huh?” you rarely argued and you never fought. Therefore you were really surprised by how things had turned out. Rami had a huge tolerance towards everything you did, and since he was so laid back when it came to you, you also were chilled and relaxed around him and allowed him for more than you would allow someone who had some problems with you. He could joke about things none of your boyfriends ever could, simply because you got his sense of humor and knew he was only joking, while some of your exes would pretend they were joking when they really were just being obnoxious – and then obviously were surprised when you got mad. Rami was so much different from them.

He started to kiss your neck while his hands paved their way under your skirt. You always tended to wear skirts or dresses when you came to visit Rami, because they were simply more practical than trousers. And he just loved the sight of your legs. He personally bought you a pair of heels so you learnt to walk in them and could have them on you when you were around him.

He soon started leaving small bites that didn’t leave a mark on you for more than a few seconds on your neck, just as well as hickeys. You were not particularly secretive about what you were doing, so he liked to leave some marks on you, showing others you were still his girl. Well, sort of. When his lips where dealing with your neck, his fingers put your underwear aside and started playing with your labia.

Even though it felt really good, it still didn’t take your mind completely off the fact there was something off between you. But you decided to give it some time, so that Rami was comfortable and ready to tell you what was going on. Right now you decided to enjoy yourself as much as you can, without worrying about that. It wasn’t a hard job – Rami was a really good lover.

You tilted your head back and a few quiet moans escaped your mouth when his fingers made their way to your clit and started to play with it. He was one of two people who knew exactly how to play with your pussy to always make you come hard, the other one being you. You tried to reach your hand to play with his cock, but he stopped you, letting you know you will do it by his rules tonight. You bit your lip smiling, as you loved when he was so dominating towards you.

He soon started moving his fingers around your entrance, unable to resist the urge to feel you from inside. You also needed him – more than ever before, since the long period of time you had to wait for him made you only hornier. Before you were able to say anything to him, his fingers were already penetrating you – fast and energetically, leaving no place for mercy or plead.

You moaned loudly, not caring for what his neighbors must’ve thought. You had the impression that his hand moved faster and deeper with every thrust, even though it was impossible. You shut your eyes, while Rami’s lips were sucking the skin on your shoulder. Your arms held him tightly and you pinned your nails into his skin as you felt the orgasm building up.

“Do I have your full attention now?” he muttered, heavily breathing. You opened your eyes and looked at him surprised.

“Ye- Yeah. You always have it. What is it, Ram?” you asked, breathing even heavier, as his hand slowed down to that annoying pace, at which you felt the orgasm building up in every cell of your body, but also felt you’re just as close to have it ruined. You tried to slow down your heartbeat, but the tense atmosphere of secret between you and Rami didn’t help you to calm down.

“Do you see me now?” you looked at him confused and nodded fast. “Or do you just notice my dick when you’re horny?” you scoffed, offended.

“You knew the deal. You suggested it. So don’t make me the bad guy” you looked at him disbelieving that he had the guts to do something like that.

“And what about later, after that? What about recently? Why is that you notice every little thing other guys do for you and I’m invisible?” you grew more and more confused. He unzipped his trousers and let them drop on the floor. You couldn’t help but notice how hot he was when he was angry.

His hand was already all wet when he took it out of you and you stopped yourself from letting out a whimper when he did. He started stroking himself. You wanted to help him, but he clearly didn’t want your help, so you waited patiently. You wanted an answer, but you wanted an orgasm as well, so you let the situation go in its own pace, or more accurately, the pace that Rami chose.

He didn’t say anything until he entered you. You weren’t surprised by that – he wanted to be turned on, not pissed off. You thought he’d go easy at first, but his thrusts were energetic and fast since the start. You literally felt like heaven when you felt him inside. You were so close to orgasm before and you needed his cock to finish the job. You needed him. You needed Rami.

“That guy at the party that entertained you all night when I was trying to have a conversation with you? That asshole that sent you flowers after he didn’t call for two weeks and you cried at my shoulder about it? Even that neighbor that help you move those boxes – you notice things that are insignificant, that should be normal human response, and when I’m there, for you, never put you down, never let you down, always to listen, console, cheer you up? You don’t even see me there. You see your needs being fulfilled, as if it happened by itself.”

“That’s not true” you muttered, but it wasn’t easy to speak. Every single word Rami said was accompanied by a strong thrust, and he was fucking your brains out while trying to make you understand things. It was just not that simple. “I notice you. I notice everything! I speak about you all the time, complimenting you to my friends. You know how many of them want to go out with you simply because of what I’ve been telling them all the time? And it’s all true.”

“And how would you know that?” you reached and grabbed a shelf on a wall to have sense of stability. You did your best to be both a participant in the conversation and a sex partner worthy of someone like Rami.

“Because they told me. Because they asked me if they can ask you out and make their move” your other hand was clinging to his arm.  

“And yet somehow they never asked me” he said, clearly not buying your story.

“Because I always answer ‘no, he’s mine’.” He stopped and looked you in the eyes. It was a moment for you to catch a breath. You breathed heavily and looked him right back in the eyes, not worrying about anything – you didn’t have to, since you were telling the truth. “I told them I won’t let them make their move on my man. Because I cared too much for you to lose you for someone else. Maybe I’m selfish. Or maybe I just care too much” you shrugged, calming yourself down. He was pinning you against the wall, so you both could rest, even slightly.

“So that’s how it looked like all this time, huh?” he pinned his fingers into your hips, holding you tightly. Yes, he liked to leave his marks everywhere. And you didn’t mind it one bit.

“Believe it or not” you said, slightly annoyed with how he’s been acting towards you. He didn’t want to distract you, so he didn’t spank you like he normally would when you talked back – but he did scratch your hip. You bit your lip.

“And why didn’t you say anything, huh?” his hair was such a mess, you loved how he looked like all heavily breathing and sweaty. And you loved it even more when you were the reason for him looking like this.

“Because it was a perfect deal. You, me, sex, no strings, no attachments. But I fucked it up. I just didn’t want to admit that to you” you shrugged, looking away. It wasn’t an easy confession to make and you didn’t want to look in his eyes while saying it.

“So I shouldn’t admit that either, huh?” he asked casually.

“What?” you managed to say before he started thrusting hard again. After being on edge for so long you felt like you’re going to come any minute. It was then that you realized he was doing it on purpose – he wanted to prolong it, not letting you come just yet. Yeah, he was really being dominant.

“I shouldn’t admit that I want something more with you” at this point you really wanted to respond and be an intellectual about it, but you reached the point where you couldn’t hold back your orgasm any longer to respond to him first and you came moaning loudly. He gave you some time to recover and then put you on the ground. You kneeled before him and took his penis into your mouth. He tilted his head back, putting his hand on your head and helping you to move. It didn’t take much of your sucking and moving your tongue around his tip for him to explode in your mouth. You swallowed his cum and he helped you stood up.

“Thank you” he kissed your head. It was always the first thing he did after sex – thank you for it. You then said the same and you both sat on the couch.

“So what did you mean earlier?” he looked at you and then took your hands in his, leaning in your direction and taking his time to answer.

“I want to be with you. I know I fucked up, because we had a deal and I want to break it. But I just caught feelings for you and it’s more than just fuck friends would have. But if you feel like it’s too much, we can just have sex. Until you find someone more appropriate or whatever” he pretended it was nothing to him, but you could sense in his voice that he wasn’t telling the whole truth. You would honestly never expect he wanted a real relationship, but now that he admitted it, you started to recall all of those little things that he did to try to make you realize he had a crush on you. Those hours spent listening about your problems, helping you with everything – those weren’t just things he did as a nice friend. He did them because he loved you and really cared for you – just like you did everything for him because you loved him back.

“I want this. I want us to be together. I don’t want anyone else” he smiled and hugged you. You climbed on his legs and snuggled. You spent a few minutes like that, just petting each other’s bodies, cuddling and smiling. Then you had a passionate kiss. “So, one more for a good start?” you joked, smiling to him.

“Give me one more minute. And please, stay here for the night.” This is how your beautiful relationship with Rami started.

[certain-as-the-sun]

Hey Jealousy

A High School-is AU. Inspired by the Gin Blossoms’ song of the same name. Contains: Alcohol Abuse, miscarriage, unwanted sexual touching. 

Hey Jealousy 

Tell me do you think it'd be all right If I could just crash here tonight You can see I'm in no shape for driving And anyway I've got no place to go And you know it might not be that bad You were the best I'd ever had If I hadn't blown the whole thing years ago I might not be alone

It was a rainy night. Belle sat in her father’s house on the edge of town, far enough away that she got the peace and quiet she craved, but still close enough that running errands into town wouldn’t take all day. She sat in her favorite chair, a hot mug of tea steaming beside her. Her bookcase gleamed in the firelight, beckoning her to choose from her vast collection. Tonight was a night she didn’t want to dwell on. Five years ago her whole world changed. Her first love had been lost to her. Her true love if she still believed in fairy tales. They had been so good together. They had their lives figured out. She would finish school, open her bookshop and live happily ever after. Fate it seemed, was not as kind. The accident wasn’t Adam’s fault. He knew that, but it didn’t stop people from talking. Small town like theirs, it didn’t take long for word to spread about the group of teenage boys who took a joy ride that left one dead. 

Adam never could hold his alcohol. He tried so many times to quit. Rehab, counseling. Through it all, there had been Belle. She was the one constant in his ever changing life. He was trying. He was trying to be who he needed to be, who Belle needed him to be. But there are some demons that are just too hard to get rid of. Orphaned at ten, bounced around from home to home. He was an angry young man, a temper that could explode at the smallest of things. He starting drinking at a young age, stealing what he could from his less than desirable foster parents. He fell in with the wild crowd. The kind of boys who stole cars, drank, partied hard. It landed him in a group home for at-risk boys. 

He was adopted at sixteen by an older gay couple. Cogsworth and Lumiere could not have been more opposite in their manners and appearance. Cogsworth was portly and fussy. Lumiere was flamboyant and loud. Between them, they showered Adam with the love and acceptance he had so desperately needed. They got him into AA, helped him find a good sponsor, someone Adam could always call when and if he needed to talk to someone other than his dads. Hatter whose real name Adam never knew, had been a foster kid too, adopted as an older teen. Hatter understood the pressure Adam felt, the loneliness that came from a life spent apart. Between the three men loving Adam he was able to stay clean for over a year. 

Belle was an only child to a widowed clockmaker. She was an honor student, on the fast track to the Ivy League. They met when Cogsworth signed Adam up for an English tutor. Cogsworth valued education and wanted Adam to improve so he could attend college and make something of himself. At first Adam and Belle wanted nothing to do with each other. He didn’t think he needed a tutor and not one as attractive as Belle was. His teenage brain envisioned her as the naughty librarian he had seen in dirty magazines. Acting on horrid advice from his friends, he was rude and demeaning. His efforts were rewarded with a slap and disgust. At home that evening, he sought out better advice. Cogsworth told the boy to write her an apology. Lumiere told him to bring her a rose. Hatter, the straight man in his life agreed that Adam had treated Belle poorly, asked him what he was going to do about it. Adam had to do better. 

And better he did. He apologized, profusely. Belle wasn’t sure she could trust him. She knew who he hung around with. But they started spending time together. Little by little the real Adam shone through. Behind the tough as nails exterior he showed the world, he allowed Belle to see him. He could very kind to those in need. He organized toy drives for foster kids. Once at the store when the cloud let loose a deluge of water, he offered to pull her car up for an elderly woman so she wouldn’t get drenched to the bone. 

He still had his temper. If his temper got the better of him, Belle wouldn’t stand for it. More times she left him where he was standing when he was losing it. He’d never hurt her but she wouldn’t take that chance. He scared her badly one night. They had been in his room and she had accidentally knocked over a framed photograph. The glass broke and damaged the photo. He roared with anger and before he realized what was happening he had tossed everything from his desk and slammed his fist into the wall. She ran from the room. In his angered haze, he heard her cries from the living room. He stopped thrashing and stepped into the hall. She was still there. Seated on the couch, his dads on either side of her. Cogsworth shook his head at his son. 

Anger management with Hatter came next. He never wanted to see anyone he cared about be subject to his temper. He wrote Belle a letter, even mailed it. He never knew if she read it but she did forgive him. 

The day of the accident started bad. His anniversary of sobriety was coming up. He would be two years clean. A milestone for any addict. It was little things piling up to big things. A memory of his parents, long gone from his life. A bad grade on a test he and Belle had studied so hard for. An argument between Adam and Cogsworth about grades and school. A misunderstanding between Lumiere. The anger simmered to a full boil. A temper flare from Adam had him storming out of the house. Deep in the back of his mind he knew what he had to do. He needed to call Hatter. Get his head on straight. 

He could call Belle. But she was busy. She had an interview in the morning. An interview that could make or break her college plans. She didn’t need him distracting her. Maybe she would let him just sleep in her bed while she prepared. If he was with her, he could calm down and be able to go home and apologize. If he was with her he wouldn’t be able to do something stupid. Pausing over her contact, a text popped up. 

Pre-game with boys. Don’t be a wuss. 

He had been ducking texts like these for weeks. Gaston was from his old life. A life he didn’t want anymore. Gaston had been his best friend once upon a time. Before his dads. Before Hatter. Before Belle. Adam dropped Gaston soon after he began seeing Belle near constantly. Belle hated Gaston. She found his crass and chauvinistic behavior revolting. Rumor has it he had three kids with three different girls. 

When he and Belle first started dating, he took her to a party that Gaston was throwing. He had taken over his parents cabin in the woods. Everyone from school was there, even people from other schools that had heard about the bash in the woods. Cars lined the dirt road leading up to the cabin. You could hear the party before you saw it. Belle, to put it plainly was not a party girl. Her idea of a Friday night was spent at the small bookstore on Main Street, browsing and putting books on layaway. Mrs. Potts, the owner kept a log of Belle’s books and would sometimes write off a few when she needed to. Belle was happiest when she and Adam had dinner together at the cafe next door to the bookstore and just took a walk in the park. But she agreed. Adam had been doing so well and she thought it was only fair that she share in his world when he spent so much time in hers. 

Gaston saw them first. The feeling between Gaston and Belle was mutual. He blamed her for changing Adam from the guy he was to the guy he is. Behind her back he called her a bitch, a nag, killjoy. The tall, broad teenager with coal black hair strode up to them as they entered the house, a bottle of beer in his hand. He snapped his fingers at Kevin to get Adam a drink. He saw red when Belle took Adam’s hand and shook her head when the small portly boy offered them both bottles. He was going to take her down a peg or two.

It took some time but he finally got Adam and Belle separated. She had gotten tree sap on her hand when they had gone outside. She was expecting Adam to be waiting for her outside the bathroom when she came back out from washing her hands. But he wasn’t. He had gotten pulled into a conversation with Gaston’s latest blonde. She started towards him when Gaston got in her path. 

“Never thought little miss perfect would grace us with her presence,” Gaston taunted. “Thought you were too good to hang out with the likes of us.” He leaned closer to her, pushing her back against the wall. “Not sure what my boy Adam sees in a frigid bitch like you.” 

His breath reeked of stale beer, corn ships and tobacco. He ran his hand over her bare shoulder, she had lost her sweater somewhere. She tried to move out Gaston’s way but he caged her. “Gaston, please. Just leave us alone.” 

“I want to know what kind of spell you got my boy under,” he said, his hand moving its way down her body, over her. Tears stung her eyes. Where was Adam? “Maybe if I get a taste, I might understand.”

“Stop it, please.” 

Across the room Adam caught sight of his girlfriend. He pushed through the crowd of drinking people. Gaston had Belle pressed against the wall, his hands on her. Without thinking he charged at Gaston shoving him away from Belle. 

“Get away from her!” Adam all but growled. He kept himself between Belle and Gaston, his fists balled. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“She came on to me man!” Gaston argued. “I told you. I warned you about her. She’s a bitch. You’re better off without her.” 

“Adam let’s just go,” Belle said, putting her hand on his arm. “He’s not worth it. Let’s just go.” 

“Shut up, you stupid —“ Gaston didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Adam swung his fist forward and knocked his former best friend square in his jaw. 

“You will not speak to my girlfriend like that ever again,” Adam said. He took Belle’s hand and they left. Alone in her car he held her close as she cried. No one had ever touched her like that before. Not even Adam. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’d never come if I thought that’s what he’d do. Please, I’m so sorry.”  

Staring at the text, it was a siren’s call. If he was honest with himself, he did miss his friend. Hanging with he boys would be the easy choice. It would be so easy to just fall into a stupor with the boys. He wouldn’t have to think about anything else. Not school, not his dads, not even Hatter. He knew what he needed to do. The siren call was stronger. He wanted to go. He wanted to fall into oblivion. He could fall for one night and when the dust settled he would start over. That was the life an addict. He knew what he needed to do and did what he wanted. He made the easy choice.  

Where you at? Three words. That’s all it took to ruin his life. Three words. 

The ravine. And don’t bring that bitch. 

Don’t call her that. 

Three hours later Adam had fallen off the wagon hard. He had drunk two bottles of Stoli, his hard liquor of choice and finished off a six pack of a cheap beer Stanley brought. Once he started Adam couldn’t stop. He couldn't have just one drink. He would keep going until he couldn’t see straight. When Adam polished off what they others had brought they went to get more. Driving a town over and with Stanley’s fake ID and Cogsworth’s credit card, the boys loaded up with more. Two more bottles of Stoli down and Adam was drunker than he had been in his life.

Neither Adam or Gaston had any business driving. The only sober one among the boys that night was Kevin also known as LeFou. Kevin was Gaston’s lackey. The small, overweight, nerdy boy just wanted to be popular. He did Gaston’s homework, really anything Gaston wanted. He was in the backseat with Adam that night. Gaston sped down the road, the radio screaming profanity laced rock. Reckless and stupid. Empty bottles rolled around the back of the car. They were invincible. On top of the world. Until they weren’t. 

No one was sure as to the exact nature of the accident that left one dead, two severely injured and one with minor cuts and scrapes. Kevin, the sweet boy who just wanted to belong was dead. Stanley walked away. Gaston had severe brain damage and would likely require twenty-four/seven care for the rest of his life. Adam broke his right collarbone, the three bones in his right arm, the femur of his right leg and had broken glass embedded in his face. Scars he would bear for the rest of his life. 

Belle, Hatter and his dads sat constant vigil by his side while he recovered from surgery. His handsome face distorted and scarred from the accident. Mixed emotions filled Belle. Anger, betrayal, hurt, sadness. How could he do this? Interview or not, he could have called her. Should have called her. In fact, he had called her. Several times. The first time she answered. She heard the shouts and loud music in the background. In his slurred speech he told her how much he loved her and how he was sorry. She begged him to tell her where he was. She would come get him and take him home. Get him to Hatter and his dads. Get him sober again. He wouldn’t listen. After the calls ended, texts came through. At first they were from Adam. Drunken decelerations of love. Disjointed thoughts of an unclear mind. Then they changed. They called her names, demeaned her. She turned her phone off. Adam had to be beyond reason if he let Gaston talk to her in such a way. 

Adam and Stanley had to be the ones to face the music when it came down to blame for the accident. They each took a lesser sentence, community service, mandatory rehab, counseling and they were expelled. Adam became the worst version of himself. Guilt over took him. He withdrew into himself, became bitter, letting his anger consume him. If he did speak to anyone, there was no kindness in his words. Belle stood by him, did her best to help him through the darkness. Her breaking point came during her second year of college. He had done well over the holidays. He was getting better. So when the stick said Pregnant she was able to think to the future again. They had taken their lives day by day for the last two years. She could see a glimmer of hope in their darkness. 

Fate, cruel as always, laughed. He had been working at the grocery store when she came in. Gaston’s mother. Seeing Adam whole set her grief anew. He stood there unmoving as she berated him, blamed him for everything that happened that night. Her son wouldn’t do the things they had said about him. Adam was a dirty orphan who drug her son down with him. Management lead her away from him but the damage had been done. In a stupor he walked out of the store grabbing a bottle of his poison on the way out. He missed her calls. Ignored them. Ignored everyone as he drank himself stupid again. 

Belle was done. She could only watch him destroy himself for so long. And losing her child was the final straw. 

“I won’t sit by and watch you drink yourself to death,” she said. “I can’t do it anymore.” 

The last time she saw Adam, he had passed out on her dorm room floor. The last she heard he’d voluntarily checked himself into an in patient clinic. Belle kept in contact with Lumiere and Cogsworth. They came to her graduation when her own father was too ill to make the drive. They stood by her when she lost her father. The two men rarely mentioned Adam except in passing. He was out of rehab. Seemed to be doing well. He was working. Stocking shelves at a big box store. Somewhere he didn’t have to see customers. 

Belle sighed away the memories and stood up from her chair and took out her favorite book. A leather bound copy of Sense and Sensibility. Opening it at random, dried flowers fell from the pages. Tucked between another page was a yellowing piece of notebook paper. A letter. A letter from Adam in the Before. 

 My Belle, 

It feels so great to be able to call you mine. I know I’m not the easiest guy you could be with. I���m so grateful that you are. As promised, I’m doing better. Learning to take a breath to settle my anger before speaking. I need to explain what happened. The photo in my room, was my mother. The only thing I managed to keep throughout my childhood and moves. I am so sorry that I lost my temper. It wasn't acceptable behavior and I know that. I am going to forever be working on myself, to be who you need me to be. 

I love you, Belle. Don’t give up on me. 

Yours always, 

Adam

She slid the letter back into the book. That Adam was long gone. He had a way with words. One minute he was a master poet, extolling words of love and devotion. But there was the other side of the coin. His words, when used in anger could tear a person down and leave them shattered. But that was then. She was a different person now.  

You can trust me not to think And not to sleep around If you don't expect too much from me You might not be let down Cause all I really want is to be with you Feeling like I matter too If I hadn't blown the whole thing years ago I might be here with you

His shift was ending. He didn’t have anywhere to be. His dads had taken a cruise, trusting they could leave Adam home alone for the first time in years. He didn’t have many friends that he could call to see if they wanted to grab a bite. In fact not counting Hatter, he didn’t have anyone he could call anymore. He took out his phone to check the time. It was just after eight. Jack in the Box would still be open. He could go there, eat a cheap burger and fries and go home. He smiled sadly looking at the picture that was a perfect moment in time. Belle. Lumiere had taken the photo. Together on the tire swing in the backyard. They had been so happy. Back when she was still his. Back before everything went to hell. 

He still had her number in his phone. He never called it. He was sure she’d hang up on him before he ever got a word spoken. That was if she hadn’t blocked his number altogether. There was so much he wanted to tell her. To apologize for. He loved her. Loved her enough that he would be okay if she never came back to him. Not that the sting of jealousy didn’t bite him in the ass when he saw her with someone else. 

He had seen her from afar so many times over the years. She still called his dads when something good happened to her. They would always tell him if she was coming over or if they had talked to her. Adam never asked Cogsworth or Lumiere to say he was thinking of her. That he still loved her with all the passion he still had. He wouldn’t do that to her. Not again. 

He found himself walking in the rain. After the accident, he never drove again. He wasn’t sure where he was going until he found himself outside her house. She was sitting in front of the fire reading, like she always did. Taking a breath, he walked away from the window and to the front door. He pressed the doorbell and waited. 

Belle never imagined who would be on the other side of her door. 

“Adam?” 

“Belle.” No matter how many years passed by, Adam saying her name was enough to send shockwaves through her whole body. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked. 

“I know if I hadn’t messed up that night, I wouldn’t be standing out here in the rain,” he said, his blue eyes staring at her. “There are so many things that I’ve done that I’m not proud of. Hurting you, driving you away will always be on the top of my list.” 

“You really hurt me, Adam. How can I ever trust you again?”

He fished something out of his pocket. A bronze colored coin. Belle had seen the collection of sobriety coins Hatter had. Hatter was eighteen years sober. So often they just wanted to get Adam to thirty days. Thirty days. Then to ninety days. To a hundred and eighty. To one year. The bronze coin in his hand had a 2 stamped in the center of it. 

“Two years, yesterday Belle,” he said. “730 days. Dad and Pop came to the meeting. Hatter actually cried.”

Two years. Belle tried to imagine Hatter crying. The thought made her giggle. She caught his eye and in an instant it was like they were seventeen again. He pulled her to him, expression nervous but hopeful as he waited for her to make the next move. Maybe it was too much to hope he would take her back so soon. But she had to know. Had to know there would never be another for him. She was it. He would spend the rest of his life making up for the last five years of hell he put them through. He needed and wanted her with every fiber of being. She must have seen it, weighed the consequences in her own mind. Seconds passed and her lips crashed into his, igniting a passion she had long buried. He walked her backwards into the house, kicking the door closed behind them. Between their increasingly fervent kisses, he was apologizing. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when Maurice died,” he said as she pulled his wet coat from him. “I’m sorry for passing out in your yard.”

“Adam, if you list everything you’re sorry for, you’ll be here until Christmas.”

Christmas sounded good to Adam. He could spend a Christmas with Belle. A birthday with Belle. God, was this really happening? Was she really there? He had to be sure. 

“Am I really here?” he whispered into her hair, holding her close to him. 

“Yes, you’re really here. I’m here.” Belle traced the marks on his face.

“You can count on me now, Belle. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Prove it.” 

A low chuckle escaped his throat as he kissed her again. He drank her in, every sight, every scent mixing with memories. Lifting her into his arms holding her close. He pressed her against the wall, his lips finding all the places that brought her pleasure. The places only he knew. Her legs wrapped around him, as if they had never been apart.  

Her senses came back to her first. She shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t let him back into her life. She knew the risks and her heart could only break so many times. 

“Wait, Adam. Stop. Put me down,” she said. With her feet on the ground, her head was coming out of the clouds. 

“Belle? Aren’t you happy I’m back?”

“Oh, Adam,” she sighed. “I have wanted nothing but for you to be sober and happy. But I can’t be the root of your happiness. I won’t survive it again.”

He nodded. He’d heard this before, from his fathers, from Hatter. He expected it from Belle. She had been hurt the most by his actions. Because she could walk away. 

“I understand Belle. I do. It will take more than just words and promises. Because I’ve said and done things that I am not proud of. I’ve hurt you. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. I love you.”

He took out his phone, opening the notes app. Scrolling down he found a letter he had written to her during his final rehab stay. He began to read. 

“My dearest Belle, there is nothing that I can say that will ever make up for my behavior. There is nothing I regret more. I lie here in my bed thinking about what — no not what — who we lost. Who they could have been if they’d had a better father. I will never forgive myself for walking away. Walking away from you, from what you meant — mean to me. I am so sorry that you were alone. I am sorry that my selfish wants overtook me when you needed me most. Nothing I can ever do will make up for that. In the worst moment of your — our lives, you were alone. And that is not right. It will never be right. And if you can ever forgive me, I will work forever to earn back your love and your trust. And even if you never can, knowing that I tried will be enough for me. I love you Belle. I love you enough to walk away if that’s what you want from me.”

 He stopped reading and looked up at her. “What do you want Belle?”

She didn’t even hesitate. “You. Demons and all.” 

[donteattheappleshook]

Of Cars and Bars Chapter 13/14

As always, thank you Krystal @kmomof4​ for all of your amazing beta work and for just being a lovely person. This story exists because of and is dedicated to you! (Thanks for the support even though I keep making you angry with all the angst!)

Tagging @teamhook​ because you asked :D

Here’s the last chapter before the epilogue! I can’t believe it’s almost over! 

Summary:

Rated E

When Emma Swan is offered the chance to go on tour as an opener for one of the most popular up and coming bands of the decade, the last thing she expects is to find that the lead guitarist is the stranger she had a one night stand with five years ago.

This started out as a smutty two shot about Emma Ruby and Mary Margaret going on a road trip and has evolved into a slow-burn mutual pining angst-fest.

Read it from the beginning on Ao3 and Ffn because tumblr eats all my italics.

Chapter 13 - New York

If you were here beside me, instead of in New York / If the curve of you was curved on me / I'd tell you that I loved you, before I even knew you / 'Cause I loved the simple thought of you

The tour was over. They were back. Everything was over. 

Things had happened really quickly after that night. They cancelled the show and then every show after that for the rest of the summer. They’d refunded everyone, lost the income - she didn’t really know the semantics of how that had happened, Belle had handled all of that. 

There had been rumors of course - rumors about why the tour was called off so suddenly. They ranged from one ridiculous explanation to another. The boys had fallen out, broken up, a drug scandal, the band wanting more money, someone was sick… 

Emma ignored them for the most part - as much as she could anyway. It was hard to ignore them when she was constantly being reminded of everything she’d lost whenever she stepped outside and saw a magazine with his face on it. He was always hiding it in those pictures, looking away, his shoulders hunched, looking annoyed or exhausted. She didn’t recognize him half the time. There was none of the joy and excitement that had originally attracted her to him. 

She’d gone back to Boston, back to her old apartment… like nothing had happened. But it had. Her life was different now. Now she had people recognizing her on the street, reporters and paparazzi hounding her with questions about why she’d left, if it had been because of her and Killian’s supposed romance. She told them to fuck off most of the time. She didn’t like fame, she found. Not the darker side of it she was seeing now, anyway. 

The worst part was the social media. Angry, vicious people who hounded her online, angry because they thought she was dating Killian, angrier because they thought she had dumped him, angriest because they thought she was the reason the tour had ended. They called her names. They called her awful, worthless. Told her that she didn’t deserve Killian, that he deserved better, that her music was terrible. All thoughts she’d already had in the back of her mind, thoughts that she thought she’d finally overcome but that were slowly making themselves heard again. She’d had to delete her accounts eventually. 

She’d had to quit her job too. It was hard to set a honey trap when everyone knew your face. It was hard to tail a skip when you were being tailed by cameramen. It wasn’t just cameramen and fans that were after her though. Since she’d gotten home, she’d been approached by seven producers, all of whom wanted to sign her and her band. Ruby and Mary Margaret were thrilled, they couldn’t understand why she was so hesitant. Well, actually, they probably could, but they were letting her believe they didn’t know. 

It felt wrong, wrong to make music without him. It was ridiculous. She’d done it before him, she’d done it since him. But one of her favorite parts of writing had become the look that appeared on his face whenever she played something new for him, that proud, awed expression he would give her. And she missed him putting in his two cents. Missed the way he would casually pick at his guitar and create a verse that perfectly captured how she was feeling. She missed… she missed him. 

But he was gone. He’d left. He’d told her he would in the bar and she’d walked away, abandoned once again, and then the same night he was on a plane. He hadn’t even come back to the room for his luggage - hadn’t come to say goodbye. You didn’t say goodbye either. It was true. She hadn’t said goodbye. She’d been the one to walk out of that bar. But he hadn’t followed, hadn’t asked her to come with him. It didn’t matter. He left, not her. Everyone left. 

“You about ready to go?” Ruby asked, her voice holding that tone of sympathy so close to pity that it irked her. Emma looked once more at her apartment, the place she’d lived since leaving Storybrooke over six years ago. It was empty now. 

She’d thought coming back to her old life would have made things easier, would have made it easier to move on, forget him, forget how he made her feel and how he’d broken her heart. But it hadn’t. The whole place just felt wrong now. Like it wasn’t home anymore. Home had become something else, not a place but people and now… that was gone too. She missed it. There was nothing left for her here anymore.

“Yeah,” she said, throwing her bag over her shoulder. “Let’s go.” 

They were on their way to New York. They were going there to - Emma could hardly believe it, hardly say the words - record an album. Emma had turned down most of the offers, hadn’t wanted anything to do with it. But it wasn’t just her decision. It was Ruby’s and Mary Margaret’s too. It was their life as well, their dream, their career. She didn’t know if she would ever want to be in the spotlight again - but she would try, for her friends.

But every producer that she met just reminded her of Neal - someone who was out to take what they could from her, use her for their own gain regardless of what she wanted. They didn’t care about music. They cared about profit. Only about profit.

But then Graham and David had introduced them to Robin, the man who had recorded their first album, the one who liked to set insanely high bars when it came to music. He was a man with standards and who insisted on hard work and dedication but at the same time… he got it. He was a musician himself and he understood the artistic side of it. 

Not all of his artists were well known. Of course he cared about that to an extent - it was his livelihood - but he also had a few indie bands under his wing. He liked good music. That was it. He liked good music and wanted to share good music with the world and he wanted to share her music with the world. 

He was sweet, Emma learned as well. A nice guy, funny and upbeat and charismatic. She’d never seen him get angry but she assumed he probably did a good fatherly ‘I’m disappointed in you’ thing that was way more effective than anger. She was looking forward to working with him. She just worried she wouldn’t live up to his standards - not anymore, not with how she was feeling. 

When they’d agreed to sign on, Emma had a condition. She was tired of just being Emma Swan and her band. She was tired of all the bad things associated with her name now. She was tired of being front and center when her friends were just as much a part of this as she was. There was no way she could have done this alone. And her name drew too much attention too, something Robin thought they should use but Emma didn’t want to. They named themselves The Ugly Ducklings after a favorite childhood storybook. Her friends liked it. Liked that they felt more like a group now, like what they’d always been. 

They settled into their new apartment pretty quickly. David and Graham already lived in New York most of the time so they had helped them find a place and did most of the heavy lifting during the move. It was strange to see them all the time, without the others. Belle and Liam had gone back to London with Killian. When he left for England. When he left her to go back to England. 

She hadn’t heard from him. Not a word since that night in the bar. It had been two months. She’d now been away from him nearly as long as they’d been together. Who was she kidding, they’d been together all of five minutes before he left. That was a new record. Usually they stuck around for a little while after she decided to let herself lo- no. she didn’t want to think about it. 

She’d given him space at first, hoped that he might reach out if he wanted her, if he needed her - her support or her presence or someone’s shoulder to cry on. But he hadn’t. And it hurt. He hadn’t asked her to come with him. He’d decided she didn’t matter enough and he’d left her behind. Maybe he’d decided he didn’t want to have someone so broken hanging around, being a burden while the case went on.

She knew a lot more about it than she wanted to. The story was all over the tabloids, all over the papers too. And maybe, she’d looked it up a few times online, worried about him, despite everything. The case was dragging on, more and more witnesses being called in, new evidence being ‘found’. It wasn’t just a decision about letting him out anymore. Gold had pushed for a mistrial, insisting he was innocent, wrongly convicted and that he should be acquitted of all charges. She couldn’t imagine what it was doing to Killian, to go through all of this again. But that wasn’t her place. If he’d wanted it to be her business he’d have asked her to go with him. 

But something still irked her, more than all the hurt and the loss and the abandonment she felt… guilt. Guilt because she knew, on some level she knew what she’d done. She’d done what she always did. She ran from him, ran away from the possibility of love and of happiness because she’d been so afraid to lose it. The barest hint that he could walk away and she’d walked away first. 

But he would have left eventually, she tried to convince herself. Maybe he wouldn’t have. But it was too late now. Now he was in London, regardless of who had run from whom, who had abandoned whom, he was gone now. He was thousands of miles away and he likely hated her - or worse, didn’t even think of her at all. It was broken. She’d broken it. She’d gotten scared and she’d fallen victim to those fears and she broke them. 

But he hadn’t tried to fix it. She’d started counting on him trying to fix it and this time he hadn’t. He’d given up. One time too many. She’d messed it up one time too many and hurt him once too many and this was the consequence. It didn’t matter how much she wanted to run to him, to be with him, to be there for him. His silence spoke volumes. He was done with her. 

“That was lovely, Emma,” Robin said as they finished recording the vocals for one of the tracks. “Can we try it again with a bit more energy?” he suggested. Emma wanted to laugh. She hadn’t had energy in over two months. Her life had been a blur, a sad, heavy cycle of empty day after empty day. 

But she didn’t say that, instead she said “Yeah, sure,” and tried it again. She could tell from his face that it wasn’t much better. 

“Perhaps we should move on to one of the ballads,” he suggested. “Let’s do the one you played at the last show - the one that went viral.”

“No,” Emma said quickly. Not that one. She couldn’t do that one. She couldn’t sing that one again - ever probably. She couldn’t sit here in a booth and sing about how she’d fallen in love with someone, had finally believed that she deserved to be loved. Not when that someone had ripped her heart out hours later, reminding her that she didn’t. 

“I just mean…” she tried when Robin looked at her in surprise. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not feeling well today. Maybe we could just work on the music for now? Try the vocals again tomorrow?” 

He looked at her like he didn’t believe her and she didn’t blame him - the lie had sounded shit to her own ears. But he nodded, giving her that same, sympathetic smile that Ruby had. 

“Sure,” he said. “Let’s call the others and see if they can get over here. Why don’t we work on the chorus to this one while we wait.” Emma agreed, thankful, and went to grab her guitar. She flinched when he spoke again. “It’s alright to miss him, you know,” he said. 

Anger was her first emotion, her first after heartbreak but that was always there so it didn’t count. “Excuse me? You don’t know me,” she snapped. Robin only nodded, he didn’t flinch back at her bite like most did. 

“I don’t,” he admitted. “But I know Killian. I know him pretty well actually and I know that he’s hurting now - more than I’ve ever seen him hurt before. I can hear it in his voice.”

Emma felt her eyes tearing but she fought it. She would not cry over Killian Jones, she’d done that enough already. Enough for a lifetime. She’d heard that he was struggling, that he was always anxious now, always quiet - that he missed her. Belle had said so on the phone. ‘How do you know?’ she’d asked and Belle had said she just did. Emma didn’t believe her. You didn’t just leave someone that you could miss like that. Unless she heard it from him she couldn’t believe any of it, it was just their friends trying to save something that was already broken. And she hadn’t heard anything from him. 

“What does that have to do with me?” she demanded, not thrilled with the audacity of this guy she barely knew assuming he knew anything about her life. 

He gave a sad smile. “When I produced Abandon Ship!’s first album, Killian had written a hit. Liam had shown it to me, I remember because he called at seven in the bloody morning to play it over the phone. When they came in to record it though… it was different. It was sadder, it was slower… he sounded like you when he sang it.” Emma’s breath caught. You left him first, a voice taunted. 

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out,” he continued. “I’ve heard enough bits and pieces from the guys and Ruby and Mary Margaret to piece together where that song came from, who it’s about.”

“What’s your point?” Emma asked, still angry but some of the venom gone from her voice, some of the fire dying out. 

“My point is, perhaps it's time to stop writing sad songs about one another and to just… try.”

Emma’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I did try.” Robin smiled sadly again.

“My apologies,” he said. “It’s not my place.” 

Graham and David had tagged along with Ruby and Mary Margaret, they were always tagging along now. It was hard. It felt almost like it should, all of them together, but they were missing a few crucial pieces. Having half of the whole there just made the missing half hurt more, made it more obvious that it was missing. She loved David and Graham, they’d become like brothers - but they were a reminder now. Whenever they walked in the room she’d catch herself looking behind them, looking for him to follow them in, only to be reminded that he wouldn’t. 

Halfway through their session, when they were taking a break to have some lunch, David received a call. It was Belle on the other end and David put her on speaker. She updated them on their lives, on how the trial was proceeding - they’d hired a lawyer - a high power one that they hadn’t been able to afford when they were young and broke and the first trial happened. She thanked the guys for staying behind, for doing damage control while they were in London. Graham and David had done a hell of a lot of free shows to try and appease some of the bad press. Turned out David could sing. They’d also done a lot of press and appearances and charity events and she knew they were a little exhausted from all of it. Both Graham and David dismissed her thanks as unnecessary. 

Emma was sitting awkwardly a few feet away, as far as she could get in the tiny back room of the recording studio, actively trying not to listen - actively failing. She could see that the others were trying to avoid drawing the conversation to him. But when Belle started to say that she was worried about Killian, and David awkwardly tried to hint that now wasn’t a good time, she heard Liam on the other end of the line.

“Is Emma there?” he asked and she felt her heart race. She hadn’t spoken to Liam since that night in the bar. She’d been too afraid to. Afraid he hated her now. With some reluctance, David said she was. “Put her on the phone,” Liam demanded and everyone looked at her uncomfortably. She could hear Belle begging her husband to leave it alone but he wouldn’t listen. “Emma, are you there?” he asked. 

Her voice cracked the first time she tried to answer. She cleared her throat, tried again. “Yeah. I’m here.” 

“Pick up the phone.” His tone left little room for discussion, even from hundreds of miles away. 

Her palms were sweating as she walked over to the table where the phone rested, right there in the middle of all of her friends who were still staring at her with trepidation. They knew whatever was coming wasn’t good either. Liam was a force. She knew that. And he was angry. She nearly turned it off, touched the little red button and ran. But she didn’t. She was an adult. She could talk to another adult. She picked it up and took it off speakerphone.

There was a long weighted silence before Liam finally spoke. “You promised me, Emma.” he said.

“Liam, I-”

“No. All those months ago, I begged you, I begged you not to let him love you if you were going to leave. I told you what it would do to him. You promised me.” 

Her words caught in her throat, trapped in the lump there as her eyes burned with tears. “I’m not the one who left,” she said and while she wasn’t looking at them she could feel the way the tension in the room grew at her words, everyone waiting on bated breath. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” he snapped. “He needed you Emma. He loves you. He still needs you. Why aren’t you here?” 

“I-” She didn’t know what to say. His anger was terrifying, his words cut deep and hurt. She knew he was right. She’d promised. But he’d left and he… the excuse felt weak even as she thought it now. He loves you. He still needs you, the words played over and over in her head. She struggled for something to say, some way to work through the pain and the self-preservation that were warring inside of her when she heard Belle's voice, muffled and far away. “Killian, you’re  back. We-”

Emma hung up the phone. She hung it up and put it back on the table and grabbed her stuff and ran out of the room. Liam was right. She’d left. She kept leaving and she was going to do it again now. Because that’s what she did best. It’s what she’d always done. It kept her safe and it kept her from getting hurt… only this time, this time it hadn’t worked so well. 

Ruby and Mary Margaret found her a few hours later on the couch in their living room where she’d been sitting since she got home. Wallowing. In guilt and heartbreak and fear and doubt. They approached her cautiously, feeling out the mood in the room before sitting down across from her on the coffee table. She could feel another ‘mom and mom’ speech coming on. 

“Was Robin really mad?” she asked, realising the very serious possible consequences of walking out on a recording session when they were new and unknown and completely dependent on him wanting to keep them. Ruby waved a hand dismissively.

“He’ll get over it. He’s used to working with moody artists.” Emma glared but it had no heat behind it. 

“Emma,” Mary Margaret started. 

“Don’t,” Emma said. She didn’t want to hear it. She’d heard it from Liam already today, she’d heard it from people on the street and online. She got it. She was an asshole. But she didn’t know what to do about it. She was so so scared. Mary Margaret, always the sweeter of her sisters hesitated, but Ruby inhaled deeply and Emma prepared herself for the storm.

“No. Enough is enough. You’re being an idiot.”

“Ruby!” Mary Margaret was cut off. 

“She is. You are. Look, we let you get away with it this long, we babied you and let you lick your wounds but really - We’re done. These aren’t even your wounds to lick.”

“He left!” she tried.

“Emma, grow up,” Ruby snapped and Emma reeled back like she’d been slapped. 

“You’re being so selfish. Yes, he left. But he left because the psycho that killed his girlfriend was possibly going to walk free. He left because he had to. Where did you find him?”

“A bar…” she said weakly.

“That’s right. Doesn’t that give you a little sense of where his head might have been at?” Ruby’s words were harsh, her tone harsher and Emma wanted to run but she had nowhere to go. She was trapped, listening to her, letting herself be reamed out. She didn’t even have the energy to defend herself, didn’t have the leg to stand on either. 

“He was hurting, rock bottom, as bad as you were when you saw Neal again - I’m gonna go ahead and say maybe worse. And yeah, his first thought wasn’t about you. So what did you do? You left him. He needed you and you left him there to go through it alone.”

“He’s not alone,” she tried.

“That’s not the same and you know it. Emma, I know you’re scared and you try to protect yourself and you have good reason to. And because of that we let you get away with a lot, because we love you. But this? You being this selfish because you’re afraid that you might get hurt? Making this about you and your fears when it should have been about supporting the man you love? I just…” She shook her head and Emma could feel the disappointment and even the shame radiating off of her. “He’s not Neal,” she said, looking at her with an expression Emma had never seen directed at her. “But right now… you are.” 

The tears burned hot in her eyes. Ruby’s words were harsh, cruel even. But… they were right. Emma looked at Mary Margaret. She looked nervous but not like she had any intention of defending her and so Emma knew she agreed. And she should. Maybe she’d just needed it to be laid out like that, to be called out on it… but Ruby was right. 

She’d let Killian in, let him care for her, maybe even love her. She’d encouraged him, let him think it was safe to give her his heart, to trust her with it. And then the moment he’d needed her, the first time he hadn’t only thought about her wellbeing and her fears and had fallen victim to his own… she’d left him. She’d run out of that bar like a bat out of hell because… what? He hadn’t asked her to come to London with him? He hadn’t outright told her he needed her? She was an idiot. She should have stayed, should have gone with him. 

She thought about the night before, how she’d tried to push him away, gotten wasted at that bar on cheap whiskey and he’d stayed. Not because she’d asked him to but because he knew she needed him too, even when she was saying the opposite. And when it had been her turn to do the same… she’d run. She’d only thought of herself, let her insecurities take over, let herself be blinded. She’d been selfish. She’d abandoned him. He’d never have done that to her. 

“What if it’s too late?” she asked, the first of her tears making their way down her cheeks. Ruby scowled at her for a moment but it stopped when she spoke again. “What if I hurt him too much, too many times, used up all my chances. What if I ruined it and I can’t fix it.” 

“You can always fix it, Emma,” Mary Margaret spoke, putting her hand on Emma’s knee. “Love, true love can always be mended. It might not be the same after, but it can be stronger.” She must have seen the look Emma was giving her because she spoke again. “Don’t. I know you like to make fun of me for believing in true love but I’m not talking about some fairytale, predestined, meant to be garbage because that’s crap. If it’s really love then you have to work for it and fight for it and you have to go and admit that you fucked up and make things better, make amends. That’s love.” 

“You just have to decide if you’re gonna fight for it or not,” Ruby said. Emma watched them both. She wanted to go. She did. Killian was the best thing that had ever happened to her and she had screwed it all up and she wanted it back, she wanted him back. How she felt about him, how he made her feel, how he made her laugh and smile, his weird obsessions and his stupid quirks and his constance and his baggage... she wanted it all back. But still, years, decades, a lifetime of letdowns wouldn’t let her, froze up with fear that she was wrong. With that last little doubt.

“What if he doesn’t want me anymore. What if he can’t forgive me?”

Ruby and Mary Margaret exchanged a look, eyes wide. “What if he doesn’t -” Ruby started in disbelief. “Show her the video, Snow.” 

Mary Margaret took her phone out and fiddled with it for a moment. She turned it over then and handed it to Emma. The video was dated only two days ago. It was Killian, sitting on a little stage in a bar somewhere during what looked like an open mic. She could hear people in the back of the video whispering, wondering if that was him, what he was doing there. But she ignored them, focused on him. 

He looked… sad. Sad and lonely and heartbroken and everything else she was feeling right now. His playing was still immaculate, his voice was still breathtaking, but he had none of the stage presence he usually did. It was like all the fun, all the carefree confidence and charisma had been drained out of him. He still held her attention though as he sang. Sang about a woman he missed, longed for, who wasn’t here with him… a woman who was in New York. 

“Is that enough proof for you?” Ruby demanded. 

Emma stood, walking past them and out of the room, adrenaline running through her veins, making her heart race and her fingers tremble. She headed straight for her room, could hear her friends following her as she grabbed clothes haphazardly out of her closet and some of the boxes she had yet to unpack. Where was her bag? She huffed and she searched for it. She knew she should have unpacked when Mary Margaret told her to. 

“What are you doing?” Mary Margaret asked from the doorway. 

“I’m going to London.”  

***

Killian was tired. He was so tired. It had been months now of talking with lawyers, of turning down Gold’s lawyers offers to strike a deal. No. There were no deals. Gold would spend the rest of his life in prison for what he’d done. He’d taken the rest of Milah’s life away from her and Killian would be damned if the monster didn’t meet the same fate. 

He was headed back to the flat he’d rented with Belle and his brother when they arrived. It was strange to be back. After nearly a decade of living in the States, of living in Boston and New York and even LA for a little while. It was strange to be home. Although it wasn’t really home was it? 

He’d learned long ago that home wasn’t a place. It was the people that were around him. He had his brother, his sister-in-law, he spoke to Graham and David regularly on the phone, even to Ruby and Mary Margaret sometimes… but not to her. He thought he’d found one, a new home, one they all could have made for themselves, one he could have made with her. But then it had been ripped away from him. No, not ripped. She’d taken it, walked away with it and left him behind, empty and alone to suffer through all of this. Not alone technically but… it wasn’t the same. 

Today had been the first day of the actual trial. After months of preparation he had finally gotten to sit in that witness box and tell the world what a terrible, inhuman being that man was. He told them how Milah had planned to tell her husband she was leaving him that night, how she’d gone home to do so. 

After not hearing from her for nearly 24 hours, he’d gone to her home, somewhere he’d never been before out of fear of her husband finding out. He hadn't truly understood her fear when they were happy and together. But he understood it then, when he found her. He told the jury about the blood, about the way she’d just been left there, tossed aside while Gold left the city. This wasn’t manslaughter, he told the jury though he knew he couldn’t change the verdict now, was reminded of it by the judge. But he said it anyway. It hadn’t been a crime of passion. It had been the cold-blooded act of a man who refused to lose something he believed belonged to him, believed he owned. 

The cross-examination had been worse. Horrible, cruel questions that you shouldn’t  ask someone who had lost the love of their life. Maybe not of their whole life, a little voice had piped up, but he shut it down. He couldn’t think of that. He was already spending his days reliving losing his first love. He didn’t want to be reminded that he’d lost his second, the woman that he thought might be his true love - all sappiness be damned. But she’d walked away, she’d decided not to choose him. Killian had only loved two women in his life, and both had left him. It just hurt all the more that Emma left by choice. 

He’d replayed that night over and over in his head. Remembered how close he’d come to opening that bottle. He’d walked there in a daze, the recall to that time bringing back memories of the man he’d once been and he let himself step back into that man’s shoes. That man had led him straight to a bar. He’d warred with himself, he’d won. But he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. Not when with every passing day he was reminded of how Milah had been taken from him. Not when with every passing moment he saw Emma again, walking out of that bar and out of his life… again. 

He’d believed her. Believed her when she'd said that she wanted to be with him, that she’d wanted to stay. But then, after one look at the darker side of him, the moment they’d faced a challenge, the moment he’d needed her most, she’d run. It felt like someone was ripping out his heart every time he thought of it. He hadn’t been enough. He’d let himself believe he was and then she’d proven him wrong.

The pain and the heartbreak turned to anger more often than he’d have liked to admit. And he was angry with her. Angry with her for giving up on him, for giving up on them so easily. But also for disappearing from his life so completely. He could understand that she didn’t want his love anymore. But they had been friends hadn't they? Why hadn’t she reached out? Why hadn’t she called him? Why was she never around when he called Graham or David? Ruby and Mary Margaret sure seemed to be around all the damn time. 

She’d disappeared, cut herself out of his life completely, and it hurt. Yes, he loved her, but he’d also grown to count on her, on her being there, on the way she made him laugh and the way she challenged him.  He needed her support. But she wasn’t there. She hadn’t just left him - she’d abandoned him and that thought hurt more than any. She knew what it meant to be abandoned. She knew what she was doing to him, how it would break him, especially now when he needed her so much. She'd done it anyway.

That was the worst part. The fact that despite all his anger and her abandonment and the fact that sometimes he wanted to curse her name… he still needed her. He missed her. He loved her. He tried to stop but he couldn’t and that made it worse. She’d let him fall in love with her, had led him to believe that she could love him too and then she’d changed her mind - and he couldn’t. 

He still wrote about her. But as angry and hurt as he was, he couldn’t put it into words, something stopped him every time. Instead all of his songs came out longing and heartbroken and full of love and loss - but never anger, never hate. And he knew it was because no matter what he did, his heart wouldn’t stop wanting her, missing her. And so he was left here to mourn her and hate her while the ever growing ache in his chest reminded him that he would probably never stop loving her. 

That was the thought that was itching at the back of his mind as he walked up the last step to their fourth floor flat - the lift was somehow always broken. He rounded the corner towards his front door as he dug his keys out of his pocket. He looked up and froze, the keys falling through his fingers and onto the ground at his feet. 

Emma. Emma was standing outside his door, a bag in her hands and bags under her eyes. She looked nervous. She saw him and her breath hitched, her fingers tightening around the strap of her duffle. His thoughts were reeling. What was she doing here? Why now? After all this time? Why hadn’t she come sooner? What could she possibly want from him now? But he didn’t voice any of them. His mouth had forgotten how to form words and so he stood there, slack jawed and dumbfounded like an idiot. 

“Hi,” she said after a long, tense moment.

“Hi,” he answered because it was the only word his stupid bloody mouth seemed to be able to form. She didn’t say or do anything else, just stood there, waiting. He didn’t know what for. Someone walked by then, cast them both a strange look and it snapped him out of his thoughts a little. He picked up his keys and stepped up to the lock. 

“We should probably go inside,” he told her. The walls had ears here and he didn’t want this - whatever it was - to end up on the front page of the Sun in the morning. She nodded but didn’t say anything as he fiddled with the key. She was so close. He could feel her next to him and it affected him the way it always did. He wanted to touch her, to pull her into his arms, to kiss her, to ask her to hold him and let him cry over all that had happened. 

But he couldn’t. That wasn’t who she was to him anymore. He didn’t know why she was here. And seeing her again felt like having his heart broken all over again. He couldn’t handle it anymore. It had been too much pain. Between her and Milah's memory he'd suffered more pain than any man should have to take in a lifetime, let alone in a few months. So he took a page out of her book - he got angry, he put his own walls up. Angry was safe and it hurt a hell of a lot less to look at her from behind the glass around his heart. 

She followed him wordlessly into the flat, into the kitchen where she dropped her bag on the floor. He opened the fridge, really wishing he could have a beer right now - or some rum, rum was always best. He clenched his fist and tried to calm it before pulling out two water bottles - a poor substitute - and handing one to her. She took it hesitantly, standing on the opposite side of the island from him. She only stared at him as they both didn’t drink and finally he couldn’t take it anymore and he spread his hands on the counter, hung his head as his knuckles turned white.

“Why are you here?” he asked, not able to look at her, not wanting to see the expressions play out on the face that he loved, the one that drew him in so easily. She left. She left, he repeated to himself. She didn’t answer at first and he was forced to look at her. 

“I came for you,” she said and he wanted to laugh. Now? Now she came for him? 

“Why?” he asked again and he saw it this time when the doubt flashed in her eyes. She took a deep, steadying breath and reached out her hand, placing it over his own. His own breath caught in his throat, her touch feeling like it was searing through his skin. 

“You know why,” she said and it made his blood boil. He ripped his hand away.

“No, Emma, I don’t,” he snapped and saw the shock on her face. “I don’t bloody know why you’re here. You left me in that bar two months ago. You just left and then I never saw you again. You ignored me for weeks. After -” the words got stuck. “After everything that happened between us. You changed your mind and you just - god, you just fucking abandoned me there, didn’t you?” He saw the hurt in her eyes and it egged him on. Good. It was about time she hurt too, after everything she’d put him through. “My life has been hell, Emma, and right now I’m too tired to try and figure out what you’re doing here so please tell me or just leave.” 

“I -” she started and he fought the guilt he felt at the way her eyes cast down, the way her shoulders slumped. She’d made this decision. Not him. Yes, he’d come back to London, but she’d chosen not to come with him, had walked away the second he told her his plans. She’d ignored him. That hurt the most. “I’m sorry,” was all she said. 

“Well, that’s great, you’re sorry. You didn’t have to fly all the way across the world just to tell me that.” He saw her hesitate and it made him stop. There was something in her expression that made him think that wasn’t all she’d come to say. 

She was looking at him like… like she’d looked at him that morning in his hotel room, the morning she said she wanted to try. He hated the way his heart raced in his chest, the way hope swelled there even after all she’d done. 

“What did you come here to say, Emma?” he asked, his tone softer now than it had been a moment ago, but his shoulders were still tense, he still held himself back from her, on edge and afraid of the havoc he knew she could reap on his heart. 

“That I-” she started quickly, rashly but she stopped and he saw the way her walls slammed up, holding her back. He hung his head. She couldn’t say it. She’d never been able to say it and she probably never would. What did she want from him? To come back and let him be her dirty little secret again? Because that’s what he’d been. She’d used him and he’d let her and then the second they even thought about being more, she’d looked for an excuse to run and she’d found one. 

“Just go,” he said, his tone defeated. “Please.”

“Killian..” 

“Please,” he repeated. “I appreciate you coming here and saying you’re sorry. But Emma, I can’t sit here and wait for you to be able to tell me how you feel, for you to decide that you want this to be real. Because I don’t even think you know if you do. I waited for you while you protected yourself, but I think now it’s time for me to protect myself. So please, just go,” he said. 

He couldn’t look at her so he didn’t see the look on her face when she stepped back, when she picked up her bag and she walked out of the flat. He stood there for a long time after she’d left. And the longer he did the angrier he became. But not at her. At himself.

He’d accused her of not being able to admit how she felt, and maybe she hadn’t but he’d forgotten one, fundamental thing about Emma… She didn’t use words to express her feelings - she never had. Even with Ruby and Mary Margaret he rarely heard her admit how much she cared about them but she showed it with gestures, with thoughtful gifts and physical touch and by going out of her way sometimes or doing things she didn’t like just to make them happy. 

He thought about the first time she’d showed him she cared, when they’d made love in that hotel room the night of Liam’s birthday, when she’d smiled at him at breakfast. He remembered how she’d struggled to tell him she liked him in the dressing room but he’d believed her because he knew already - because she showed him in her own way, by kissing him in front of their friends and holding his hand as they walked into a crowded party - and then again when they walked into the breakfast room to meet their friends. She’d written music with him, had helped him with his own songs, had let herself be vulnerable with him, let him see her fears and let him in as he helped her write… Even before all of that, she'd held his hand on the plane when he'd been scared, she'd taken him on the ferris wheel and won him that stupid giant bear. All this time, she'd been showing him and he'd been blind to it.

He was an idiot. Emma had flown to London. Yes, it had taken her a while to get here. Yes, she’d doubted him and she’d gotten scared. But she’d flown thousands of miles to come find him, to be with him. Maybe she hadn’t been able to tell him how she felt but in Emma’s language… he was a goddamn idiot. She’d flown to London for him. He didn’t need her to make a confession of love. She already had. 

He rushed to the door but he knew it was too late. He ran down the hallway, down the stairs and out onto the street. But she was gone. Fuck. Fuck! He called her phone. It went straight to voicemail. He called Belle, called Liam, neither of them even knew she was coming. He called Ruby and Mary Margaret and David and Graham. Nobody knew where she was staying. The trip hadn’t exactly been planned ahead of time, Ruby pointed out. They promised to try to reach her but that she’d told them her phone was dying when she called to tell them she landed an hour ago. 

He walked around town aimlessly, his heart racing every time he saw a blonde woman only to be dismayed when it wasn’t her. How many goddamn blondes were there in this city? He got a call from Ruby a little later telling him she’d spoken to her and that she was staying in a hostel in the city. She gave him the name. Said she’d told Emma he was looking for her.

He ran there. Not caring about the weird looks he got for running through the streets of London in jeans and a leather jacket. He was an idiot. He just had to hope that he hadn’t screwed it up so badly that he couldn’t fix it. 

He got to the hostel and asked about her. The guy at the counter refused to tell him anything, something about customer safety which, yes, he understood that made sense but it really didn’t help him in his current predicament. He tried to bargain with the guy, tried to plead his case, but he wouldn’t budge. 

He sighed, finding an armchair in the lounge and collapsing in it, his head falling into his hands.

“Hey, man,” a woman said and he turned to look at her. She was a young Asian woman, probably a few years younger than him with her hair in boxing braids. She had an American accent and a giant backpack at her feet. He raised a brow at her. “That girl you’re looking for. She about yea-high, blonde, total knockout?” she asked, holding her hand up beside her. 

“Aye,” he said, hesitant but hope sparking in his chest. “Have you seen her?” he asked almost desperately. 

“That depends,” the woman crossed her arms, looking impressively threatening for her age and size. “Did you hurt her?” 

“No!” he answered quickly, then hesitated. “Well, not physically. But I did hurt her - that’s why I’m looking for her.” 

“Are you gonna hurt her again?” she asked, raising a brow in a way that mirrored his signature move. 

“I bloody hope not,” he said with a sigh. “Please, I’m just trying to make amends. I was an idiot and a tosser and I’m hoping she’ll forgive me, but I can’t ask her to if I never see her again.” The woman looked him over once with a little more judgement in her expression than Killian was really comfortable with. Then she smiled slightly, more of a smirk really. 

“I always like a man who can admit he’s an idiot,” she said. “She was looking for some bar,” she continued, pulling out her phone. “The one from this video,” she turned the screen so he could see it and his heart pounded against his ribs. “I told her it’s-”

“That’s okay,” he said, standing. “I know where it is.”

She looked at him strangely before glancing down at the video again. “Oh hey, is that you?” she asked with genuine surprise. 

“Aye,” he said. “Thank you…”

“Mulan,” she supplied. “I hope you find her.” 

“Me too,” he admitted. As he left he heard her call out behind him. 

“When you find her, tell her the whole you’re an idiot thing! You’d be surprised! It goes a long way!” He felt the smile tugging at his lips. 

He walked into the bar. He knew it well, it was familiar territory for him. It was a little dingy, the drinks were cheap and carding wasn’t really a thing. Neither was cutting people off which was why it had been one of his favorite places when he was younger, and when he was a drunk. But he’d come back to it recently because it was familiar, because it was one of the first places he and Liam and Graham had played in (before they’d met David). And, because it had open mic nearly every night which meant he could just go up there when he needed a break from the real world, when he needed to let himself get lost in music for a bit. 

He’d been on that stage most nights this week. The owner hadn’t complained, he’d actually brought in business now that word had gotten out that one of the Jones brothers was playing there. He was starting to think he’d have to find a new place soon. The point was to blow off steam and feel like a human being again, not to be hounded by people who wanted pictures with him and women who wanted to take him home. 

He’d almost accepted a few of those offers in the first few weeks after he got here, after the preparation for the trial started and missing Emma became unbearable. But he hadn’t. One vice just led to another and it wasn’t a path he wanted to go down. And he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He might have thought that Emma had left him but he couldn’t even imagine sleeping with another woman now that he’d known her. It felt wrong. Like a betrayal, despite everything. And he knew it would only leave him empty.

He made his way inside, finding a table near the door so that he could see her if she walked in. He cast a glance around the room but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen. That was alright. He would wait. He would wait here until she came in, and if she didn’t come in then he would go back to her hostel and wait there, and if he didn’t find her there then he would bloody fly back to New York and tell her he was an idiot in America. 

He had only been sitting there for a little while, drinking a rumless coke when he saw her, not at the door, but getting up on stage, borrowed guitar in hand by the looks of it. He sat up straighter, his heart racing in his chest as she settled on the stool and looked up, right at him. She didn’t look surprised. A small, hesitant smile crossed her face, despite the anxiety and the fear on it. 

His heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his body at this point. Had she known he would come here? Ruby had told her he was looking for her, she’d come to the bar he played in. She’d gone on stage just minutes after he arrived. She’d expected him. Only now he had no idea what to expect. Would she be angry, hurt, had he broken this beyond repair?

“Hi,” she said into the mic and a couple of heads glanced up to look at her. He was fixated. She wasn’t looking at him, her gaze moving around the room uncomfortably. “Um, so,” she hesitated in that way she always did when she was nervous, when she had to voice her feelings. “Someone accused me today of not being able to admit how I feel... And that’s actually pretty true. I’m really shitty at talking about feelings - I’m shitty at feeling them honestly. But, this person helped me with that, with a lot of stuff.”

Killian heard a whispered “Is that Emma Swan?” as more people gave her their attention. 

“I was always really afraid of love because it’s only ever hurt. So I put up some walls to keep it out. But I don’t want to keep it out anymore.” She finally looked at him and he felt her gaze in his chest, in his gut, in his heart. He smiled at her, a little, nervous, hopeful thing, and she continued. “I fucked up. I really fucked up and I’m just hoping that you can forgive me and that some part of you still feels the way you did two months ago in that hotel room because…” she hesitated, looking down before lifting her eyes back to his. “Because I love you.” 

Killian sat there, awestruck and slack jawed. She loved him. She loved him and she’d said it - in front of all these people, in front of all the cameras that had come out when she’d started speaking. His whole body felt numb, like he had no control of his limbs or his fingers. But then she started playing and the song, the lyrics, the memories rushed into his bones and his skin and his blood, filling him and bringing him back to life, to her. To Emma.

“Oh don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me. I said you’re holding back. She said shut up and dance with me.”

He stood, walking across the bar like a sailor drawn to a siren. He didn’t care about the whispers in the room, people recognizing him, the people filming and taking pictures and gossiping. All he could think of was her and the stupid, ecstatic smile on his face, making his cheeks hurt. As he got closer her own smile grew, doubt melting away in her eyes and replaced with an expression he’d seen there so many times before but hadn’t recognized, love. She loved him. 

He hopped up on stage, not caring that he was cutting off her song and she barely had time to stand before he caught her face in his hands and kissed her hard and long to the soundtrack of cheers from the bar patrons. He felt her arms slide up his chest, felt her hands grab hold of the lapels of his jacket as her lips curled against his own, laughter bubbling out of her as he kissed her the way he’d wanted to for months. He’d missed her so damn much and now she was here in his arms and she loved him and he was never going to let her go again. 

They pulled apart when a wolf whistle cut through the air, making them laugh. Killian looked down at her, into her eyes that were shiny with happiness and with tears. 

“I’m sorry,” she said and he shook his head.

“I’m sorry. I was an idiot.” 

She shook her head this time. “I love you,” she said again and he felt it fill his entire body. 

“I know,” he smiled at her, at the way she rolled her eyes and smacked his chest in annoyance, trying to pull away despite the way her lips turned up. He held her fast, bringing those rolling eyes back to his. “I love you,” he told her and it felt like heaven to finally get to say those words, to finally say it out loud. She smiled, took hold of his hand that was still cupping her cheek, kissed his palm and he felt her love, words or not. 

“I know,” she teased and he smiled. Because she did know. She’d known for a long time, she’d been able to read him like an open book from the beginning. He’d just taken a little longer to understand that she’d been right there with him all along. 

He glanced around the room, hearing the people who were still excitedly going on about them, some of them knowing who they were, some not but caught up in the moment. He looked back at her, a little worried, knowing she liked her private life private, that that wouldn’t be an option with him. 

“You sure about this, Swan?” he questioned. “I don’t think we’ll be able to hide this from the rest of the world.” 

She didn’t say anything, she just kissed him again in front of a couple dozen screaming fans. He pulled her into his arms. Trial be damned, distance and time be damned, five years and running and pain and whatever else was to come be damned. He loved her and she loved him and finally, after all this time, he didn’t need to doubt it anymore. He didn’t need to doubt anything anymore. Because he knew now that he would be okay. He had her. Everything else just faded away. 

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Part XII - The Untimely Downfall of Strangers

read parts 1-11 here

THEN - Day 1612

I didn’t know when interviewers would stop asking me about Margot, but today wasn’t that day. 

I’d done three interviews for the movie--and each one seemed to focus generally on the whole idea that now, apparently, I was an actor. They also managed to slip in a question about whether or not I’d spoken to Margot. After the third one, Jeffrey had made an executive decision to demand that each media outlet cut those parts. 

Things had died down, really. There weren’t new headlines every day, new rumors, new speculations about where Margot was and what I was doing about it. 

In fact, I didn’t know where she was, I didn’t really want to know, and I frankly just wanted to move on with my life. 

It’d been fourteen months since we’d broken up. The first year was miserable and I made it all the way to the one year mark still feeling like it was yesterday. Reliving all of it at the anniversary seemed to be healing in a way--or at least, it helped me process what had happened and hope for a better 2017. 

So now, when people asked me if I’d spoken to her, if I’d heard from her, I couldn’t help but just be angry and annoyed and bothered. 

I hadn’t heard from her, I hadn’t spoken to her, and it was my understanding that no one else had either. She hadn’t released music, made a statement, done much of anything, really. 

The only thing to have even come from her mouth (or Nick’s, more realistically) was a statement in 2015 when she went to treatment that she was putting her health first and would take all of the time she needed. Nothing since. 

“Anything new in terms of your love-life? You were in a very public relationship with Margot Jones--everyone is dying to know more about why it didn’t work out.”

I licked my lips quickly, thankful that the interview we were filming wasn’t live and thankful that Jeff was just off camera. I could see the way his eyebrows dipped at the sound of her name, looking up from his phone to see how I’d handle it. 

“Nothing new,” I shook my head, offering the woman a small smile as I looked over to Jeff--part of me hoping he’d interrupt and redirect. “Just uh, focusing on the movie, some new music. Definitely just taking a pause for myself.”

Okay, so maybe I did wonder where she was and what she was doing. With the album coming out and with my time being spent increasingly in L.A., I couldn’t help but wonder what her life was now. 

“How did the break up affect the rest of the boys from One Direction? I mean--clearly it was a heartbreaking thing I’m sure for you and Margot, but, any word how they’ve dealt with it?”

I shook my head slightly, hoping that this woman would pick up the hint that she wasn’t going to get much out of me. “You know, I think they’ve been so excited to focus on their new ventures as well, they’re all going to do some great things, so I’m wishing them the best in terms of time off and new adventures.”

None of that felt true in the moment--but I’d also been coached for years now on how to avoid uncomfortable questions.

But I wasn’t going to tell Macie--this woman in a yellow dress--that Niall refused to speak to me for the weeks after it happened because he claimed I let her walk out. I wasn’t going to tell her that Liam and Louis both avoided me for a while in fear that I’d be too emotional to handle the work related things we had to do at the end of the year. 

I certainly wasn’t going to tell her that I hadn’t spoken to Zayn in months and had no idea if he even knew what had happened. 

I knew Margot was talking to them--I mean, I figured she had kept in touch with Niall at first. But then I got a text from Liam asking if I knew that she was home (I didn’t, no one had told me). 

And now, when Niall sent me a stupid meme or a text about sports and mutual friends, I’d fight the urge to ask how she was. I’d type it out and erase it and hope that one day he’d just decide to tell me everything he knew about what she was doing and how she was feeling and why on earth she decided that I wasn’t good enough for her anymore. 

I’d heard from Niall that she wasn’t really writing. He’d seen her for lunch the last time he was in town, but he didn’t give me more than that. I wonder if she’d asked him not to. 

It wouldn’t surprise me if his loyalty now laid with her--I mean, they’d always been close and for some reason, Margot found Niall to be much more entertaining than he really was. If he was at a point now where he chose her over me, I could live with it. 

I’d already lived with Margot choosing everything else over me. 

THEN - Day 724

I stood up on the loge level, stage left, watching as Margot finished the last song. The stadium was huge--it felt bigger in the audience than it did when we’d played it only a month prior. Bodies filled the seats that allowed them all to watch my girlfriend do her thing--a much less flashy version than she’d previously put on. 

Margot had always had a love hate relationship with her fame--she loved it in the sense that she didn’t know anything else now. She loved her fans and her music and being creative. She loved the life that it allowed her to live. 

But at the same time, she hated the way it dampened her spirit and her freedom and her world. She’d tried, over the last two years, to make music that was more her and less radio. She did different set designs, different wardrobe ventures, and worked tirelessly to be involved in every decision that was made about her life. I think that’s why she seemed so exhausted all of the time. 

Sinead was beside me, swaying along to the song she’d heard probably 700 times by now. She offered a smile in my direction when she noticed my eyes on her, and I took the opportunity to lean over and speak into her ear. 

“Are you as sick of this song as I am?”

She laughed, rolling her eyes as she shrugged. “Let’s just say we’re lucky she’s a good writer.”

I nodded and pushed my lips out in thought--knowing very well that Margot was likely just as sick of this song as I was. It didn’t stop her from dancing to it on stage like she was having the time of her life. 

I wondered, as I watched the girl I loved, what thoughts went through her head at night. She was far more in demand than we were--whether or not 2014 had brought One Direction bigger stadiums and more press and more things on our to-do list. 

I’d always wondered--especially when Margot and I started dating--if there’d come a time when she took a backseat. Not because I felt she needed to--more so because I think she wanted to. 

“How’s she been lately?” I leaned over to ask Sinead, Margot spoke to the crown in gratitude of their presence and good energy. I knew she was getting close to the end of the show. 

Sinead moved her head from side to side--admitting that Margot had most likely been difficult lately. She’d always get to a point at the end of the tour where she was ready for it to be over. She’d get cranky and homesick and just more irritable. She’d been having the time of her life on this tour--but I knew, with only two weeks left, she was ready to return to LA and begin filming the final season of her television show. 

“She’s been okay--she’s tired. She’s super glad you’re here.”

Her words made a smile fight onto my face. The distance was hard--especially in the summer. Other times of year we could take weekends or weeks and align our schedules. We could try to be in the same city at the same time for different reasons. 

But touring in the summer often had us on opposite sides of the planet for weeks at a time. Which is why--despite being rather sick of hearing Margot’s most recent number one single--I was happy to be spending my days off with her. We were right in the middle of our U.S. leg of the Where We Are tour, so being stateside gave me more access to Margot. We did our best, as always, to align any legs of our tours if we could--often playing the same venues only weeks apart. 

So even if there were weeks when she was in Japan and I was in Spain, laying beside her at night in a hotel or on her bus made all of the red-eye flights worth it. 

“Did you book her charter for when she comes to see us?”

Sinead nodded--reaching for her phone to send a text to Margot’s head of security. “Yep--she’s back in LA for a few days and then she’ll meet up with you guys for a long weekend in mid-September. Back for filming at the end of the month and then with you for the last three shows in October.”

Sinead’s mind often amazed me. Not only was it her job to keep Margot’s schedule straight--meaning fittings and shows and press and radio and filming and recording and rehearsing and writing--but she also had to have a fair enough understanding as to where in the world I was. 

Sinead’s job--sometimes--seemed like she was trying to mix oil and water. 

But she loved it--her and Margot had become close and she got on well with everyone on my side of the equation, too. I just wondered sometimes if she had the aching for a quiet life. Did she wish she could take time off in the summer instead of trailing behind Margot through different concert venues?

Margot’s words in the microphone caught my attention as the crowd erupted in cheers. “There’d be no better way--naturally--to end a show, so for our last song, can everyone sing as loud as they can?”

Sinead clapped and smiled down at Margot--who looked like a small figurine from our spots overhead. “I’m more sick of this one, to be honest,” she grinned up at me and started humming along as the band began to play.

NOW - Day 1718

Margot brought her eyes up to mine--I could see the thoughts swirling in her head as she seemed to scan my face. The desperation in my voice was probably obvious. “Don’t put up another wall,” I said, “we’ve got enough to take down.”

She licked at her lips and tried to exhale deeply--but she was stuck. She shook her head eventually and let out a laugh. “It’s not that easy, Harry. It’s like--here we are, just like the old summers, and I’m still afraid that there are all these people out here who would ruin our relationship if they could.”

I nodded--trying my best to validate the fear she held in her eyes. “I know, baby, I know. But s’not going to happen. It didn’t happen before.”

She looked away at that--apparently our interpretations were different. “Harry we were always fighting about the way you interacted with fans.”

“S’part of the job, Margot. I can’t just not be nice.”

She rolled her eyes--still standing a few feet away from me in the center of her deck. It was comical, almost--we reestablished our roles without even speaking of it--falling into place like we’d worn out footsteps on the floor. 

“I’m not saying you can’t be nice. I’ve never said that, okay?”

I took a deep breath, not wanting to fight on the last night we had together--but also thankful for the fact that we were speaking. A few weeks ago, we couldn’t say the same. 

“You are the person I care most about on this planet,” I said, reaching forward to bring her towards me. She looked at my hands hesitantly, wondering if she should take the risk and step towards me. I offered her a small smile when she met my eyes--walking towards me finally and extending her hands to meet mine. 

I looked up at her, heart in my throat and emotion ready to pour out of me. “I want to do this, Margot. I want to try again. But if we do--I need you to know that I’m not backing out like last time. I’m not giving up like I did.”

She blinked a few times--processing my words. I didn’t know if she knew what I mean--I didn’t know if she took the words as seriously as I did. 

I wanted her--all of her. I didn’t want to do this half-arsed or tentatively or with any reservations. There wasn’t a doubt it my mind that Margot was the person for me. With all of the eye-rolls and sarcasm included. 

“I’m in if you are,” I told her, letting my thumbs rub circles on top of her skin. 

She let out a quiet laugh, not as closed-off as she’d been a few minutes early. “I’m in, Harry--clearly I’m in,” she shrugged, another laugh escaping her lips as she looked around us--silently making reference to the fact that we were behaving like a couple.

But that was the thing about Margot--I don’t know if there was any other way I knew how to be with her. Either completely with her, 100% all in, or doing everything in my soul to forget her name and forget the way she laughed when I made a stupid joke. 

THEN - Day 1189

Liam was mad at me and I knew it. 

But that didn’t stop me from biting into the last banana in the fruit bowl in the green room before our performance at The X-Factor live finals. 

He had his feet up on the coffee table--already dressed and done with hair and makeup. He scrolled on his phone, the tension building between us as I seemed to stand in the middle of the room awkwardly. 

I’d told them to just drop it. I’d told them--probably a thousand times by now--that walking on eggshells wasn’t going to help anyone. They didn’t need to be nice to me or give me space or ask how I was feeling. 

I told them to just act as if nothing had happened. The more we could just forget about it and move on, the easier it would be for me to not want to blow my brains out during these last few weeks of promo. 

I’d told management that every single media outlet we worked with had to be contractually obliged to not mention her or our relationship or the break up. I made it extremely clear the morning after it happened in New York that I’d get up, walk out, or tell whoever was interviewing to go ahead and fuck right off. It might do well for ratings, but it wouldn’t do well for our overall image. 

But still, I was sulking around most of the time, drinking too much and sleeping too much and ignoring too many text messages from important people. 

Niall would call to make sure I was up and on my way to events, but I’d just let them go to voicemail. My mum would text and her message would go unread for a day or two before I had the courage to face the outside world that seemed to move on from the cold day in New York--the place in which my brain was stuck.

I wanted so badly to move on--I wanted to forget about her and the feelings and the way that now my head seemed foggy and unable to focus on anything but the words she’d said over the last six months. 

“Can you not just stand there? At least sit or something,” Liam said, not bothering to look up at me. 

“Why do you care where I am?” I shot back, ignoring the fact that Lou worked on Niall’s hair only a few feet away. I was sick of pretending like I was okay--yet I still hoped people would just treat me like I was.

“Because you’re just standing there like you’re waiting for something, mate. Just sit down and relax.”

“Don’t tell me to relax,” I said, my voice firm and angry as Louis entered the room with a smile on his face.

“How’s everyone doin’? An exciting night, yeah?”

“Bad time, Louis,” Niall said, the noise of Lou’s blow dryer muffled his voice from across the room.

Louis’ eyes seemed to scan the room--falling on me with a bit of disappointment. That’s how I’d sum it up, really--the way they’d been treating me. Disappointed. Disappointed that I hadn’t fixed everything between me and Margot, disappointed that I was depressed and in a shit mood. Disappointed that I wasn’t thoroughly enjoying the end of our band as if I wasn’t scared shitless of what was next. 

“Y’alright, Harry?”  Louis asked, flopping down onto the couch as he put his legs up beside Liam, crossing him arms over his chest as he waited for my answer. 

“No--clearly I’m not fucking alright. Is that what you all need to hear? Do you want me to just admit that I’m fucking miserable and an idiot and I fucked up?”

Liam finally brought his eyes up now to look at me--Niall watched me through the mirror that hung in front of him. 

“I know you’re all pissed at me--okay? I know you’re mad that I didn’t figure out how to fix things with her but I didn’t fucking know that was coming. I didn’t know her solution to the problem was to throw everything away. Did any of you? Yeah? Did any of you know that she was falling apart? You were all her friends, too. But none of you hold any guilt in any of this?”

Lou switched off the blow dryer--setting in on the table as she busied herself with her phone, clearly uncomfortable with being stuck in the middle of such a weighted conversation. 

“Harry, no one’s trying to blame you,” Niall stood from the chair and moved towards us--his eyes narrowed as he watched me. “We wish you guys stayed together, f’course--but we’re not mad.”

“No? Not mad?” I let out a sarcastic laugh and let my hands slap against my thighs. “Then why the fuck have all of you reached out to her to see how she is but you can’t even bear to be in the same room as me?”

I didn’t have physical proof that they’d reached out--but I wasn’t stupid. I knew that as soon as Niall found out, he likely called and texted her a thousand times to get more details than he got from me. I knew Liam was upset to hear she’d entered treatment--Louis was freaked out that he didn’t get to see her before she left. 

Radio silence in the room as Liam set his phone down on the coffee table and rested his elbows on his knees.

“We get it--okay? We get that this is hard and new and that all of us are dealing with a lot of change.”

I rolled my eyes at him. Sure--change. The word had lived in my head for a long time now. Ever since the spring when Zayn left in the middle of a fucking tour and Margot started asking about my plans for life after the band. 

Things were changing for all of them, too, but not in the way it had for me. We’d all lost a bandmate. We’d all lost a friend. We were all going into uncharted territory and hoping for the best. 

But they still had the people beside them to make it less terrifying. Liam had his girlfriend, Louis had his. Niall had us and his brother and his friends from back home. 

I had them. I had my family. I had the support of people who cared about me--but none of it would make up for the fact that I didn’t have her. 

In the span of 30 days, I was losing the two of the most important things in my life. I looked at the three of them--shocked that they thought they understood how I was feeling when none of them had been in this set up. 

“No,” I shook my head, anger bringing heat to my face as I let my tongue glide along the back of my teeth as I headed for the door. “You don’t get it.”

NOW - Day 1719

Being friends with James Corden was a blessing and a curse. There were plenty of ways that being his friend had perks. I’d met a lot of people through him--I always could count on him to be game for some take away and video games, and most importantly, he was supportive and loving and all of that good friend stuff. 

But now, as I sat in his the passenger seat of a Range Rover in a parking lot in LA, getting ready to film a carpool karaoke segment, I was less than impressed with my friend as he laughed to himself. “M’not gonna go too hard, Harry--but people are figuring it out. I mean, you haven’t exactly been subtle about it, have you?”

I rolled my eyes, rubbing at the bridge of my nose as a woman brushed more powder onto my nose, completely unable to stop the smile from reaching my cheeks as I responded. “People don’t know everything--and you always want me to tell you everything.”

“I do not,” he defended, reaching for the microphone that clipped to the inside of his collar.

I adjusted the sunglasses on my head and watched as traffic whizzed by us outside. “It’s not a big deal, we’re just taking it slow.” 

“Please do not ask him a shit ton about it,” Jeff said, coming up behind the woman who did my makeup-- a cup of coffee in his hands. 

“Oh I’m going to ask him about it,” James nodded confidently. “And he’ll give me some shit-eating grin answer and I’ll try not to laugh at how ridiculous he sounds.”

Jeff let out a laugh and headed back for the hallway--clearly not too worried about whatever  was about to happen. And that was another blessing--being friends with James meant he’d give me shit and push me a bit, but he also had nothing but respect for me and my privacy. 

I shook my head as I took a sip of the coffee Jeff had delivered--thankful for the people around me. Emma, my assistant, seemed to be buried in her phone as she hid beneath the overhang of the CBS studio only a few yards away. Doing the first bit of promo with my album out was sure to be nerve-wracking, but I felt good about the fact that things between Margot and I were stable. At least--stable enough. 

We were talking and texting like things were back to the way they were--before she was sad and distant. 

James’ studio manager gave us cue to get started--James turned the key in the ignition and I pulled my door shut, I pointed two fingers at James to imply I’m watching you.

A voice came over the walkie-talkie that James had in the cupholder--giving us permission to pull out and turn right onto the busy road in front of us. It wasn’t my first time doing one of these with James--but it was my first without other people sat beside me in the car. 

He did as we were told, and once we were on the road, mixed in with the lunch-time traffic, the voice inside the walkie-talkie let us know that cameras were now on and filming, we could start whenever we pleased. 

James cleared this throat and adjusted in his seat, I gave him the thumbs up to let him know I was game. A few seconds of silence. 

“Oh man, thank you so much for helping me get to work--I really, really appreciate it,” James had both hands on the wheel now, looking over to offer me a small smile.  

“Thanks for the ride, s’my pleasure,” I nodded at him, wondering how long he’d take to get to it. I knew he planned on asking about the band--my new album, the movie, all of that. But I also knew that he’d tastefully weave in some questions about Margot. Whether or not he named it as such, I was yet to find out. 

“The last time you were here, you were not alone in the car--and now you are, now you’re up front.”

“I was back middle,” I nodded, remembering the last time we did this--a stop for McDonald’s half way through as Liam got hungry. 

“Yeah,” James said. “That’s right, you were right there, and now you’re right here, how d’ya feel?” He motioned to both spots in the car that I’d occupied, I took a second to look around in the front, appreciating the space I had now without Liam and Louis on either side of me. 

“I feel like--uh--like I have more control over the buttons.”

“Over the air and stuff?”

“The buttons, yeah,” I laughed, gaining a laugh from James as he brought his eyes back to the road. 

“I don’t know if you’re speaking on a different level--if the buttons, if you’re saying you’ve got more control over the buttons but the buttons are something deeper than just the buttons in the car.”

I laughed, nodding slightly as I picked up on his analogy. “Could be.”

I couldn’t help but notice that I felt more at ease than I’d felt in interviews for a long time--especially now that things seemed to be more concrete with Margot. The hardest part of interviews after we broke up was the uncertainty. What did I say? How did I manage to be pleasant when I was in a shit mood?

Releasing the album, having it out and streaming now felt a bit strange. The stories I told through lyrics and music were no longer just for me. And now, singing along to them in the car with James opened me up for a whole slew of questions I’d been rehearsing my answers to for a week. 

He asked me what I’d been up to since I’d seen him last and he complimented the album, which felt exciting and nauseating at the same time. I wondered, for a second, if this is how Margot felt when she heard it for the first time. 

He played a few songs and we chatted about what it’d been like to be making this album alone--without the safety net of a band of friends standing behind you. But I could tell, when he looked over at me, that he was about to go in for the kill. 

“So people have heard the album now--have friends and family texted you to let you know they’ve listened and which song they like best?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve gotten a few messages from people.”

“Right--and have you gotten word, I mean--let’s be real, people know there’s one person that this album really focuses on, yeah?”

I fought the smile on my face--letting my gaze float out the window as I plucked at my lower lip. “M’not sure what you mean.”

“Oh yeah, Harry, sure,” James laughed, causing me to readjust in the seat as I let out a laugh. 

“Margot Jones, yeah? There’s been a lot of talk about your relationship with her and your break up and everything in between.”

“Mmm, mhm,” I nodded--hoping that some honesty would gain me credit or respect or something that would make James tone it down a notch or two. “Yeah--I think people will hear this album and wonder--y’know--if there are pieces about certain events or days or people. But the best part about making an album is really letting the music tell the story so you don’t have to.”

James’ eyebrows were raised, his eyes on me as we took a left turn. “Casual answer, Harry, really,” his laugh filled up the car, contagious enough that even I started giggling a bit--at least enough to relax. 

“No but really--you’ve been seen out with Margot lately, which I think is quite the turn of events for folks who followed your relationship.”

I stared at him, somewhat surprised at the straightforwardness of his question, but also a bit impressed by his ability to play the clueless card. I always found that interesting when I did interviews with people I actually knew--people who were my friends. 

When I came and saw James or did radio things with Nick, it was funny to hear them ask me questions in front of the camera that they already knew the answer to. 

“Yeah--I mean, Margot’s a wonderful person, and it’s nice to spend time with someone who knows you so well.”

I didn’t know if that would cut it--I didn’t know if that was vague enough for Jeff’s liking or subtle enough for Margot’s. 

“Fans really love to speculate about songs and lyrics and what’s about who. I think you could probably find twelve page essays online that detail,” he let out a laugh, I waited for him to spit it out, knowing full well where he was going. “That detail why each lyric is about her or about your relationship.”

“S’dedication, really,” I joked, picking up my water bottle to take a sip. Margot said that that was my tell. I’d reach for water or for something to do during an interview when I got a bit nervous. I pushed the thought out of my head. 

“Y’should have pulled a Maroon 5--called it Songs About Margot,” He suggested, a cheeky grin on his face, which nearly caused me to spit the water out in my mouth . 

“Yeah we threw the idea around actually,” I joked, running a hand through my hair as James pressed a button, another song coming out of the speakers. 

We drove around like that for about an hour--singing and laughing and even switching shirts in an empty parking garage. We made our way back towards the studio, and once we arrived, I climbed out of the car and greeted Jeff with sunglasses over my eyes. 

“Vague enough, yeah?”

Jeff shrugged, a smile on his face as he handed me my phone. I think he was just happy that I wasn’t so fucking miserable anymore. 

“Hey,” James called from behind me, a woman tugged at his shirt to get his microphone loose. “Still on for dinner next week in London?”

“Absolutely,” I nodded. “You’re cooking for me, right?”

He rolled his eyes, appreciating my jokes as he handed the car keys to a production assistant. “Yeah right--naked beneath an apron and all.”

THEN - Day 1528

Being in Los Angeles wasn’t weird. Being here without Margot was. 

I mean--I guess I couldn’t even say that. I’d been here plenty without her. Hell--the first few times we jetted all the way to the West Coast, I didn’t even know if she knew I existed. 

But this was her turf--no matter where I was or who I was with, Los Angeles would always make me think of her. The exit on the freeway to get to the driveway where we met, the right turn down Sunset Boulevard to get to the studio where she’d filmed her show. 

So now--sitting in an office on Selma Avenue felt like I was intruding on her territory. 

I’d always wondered if I’d see her. Would I bump into her on a red carpet? Would she ever do events again? Would I see her at Niall’s wedding (if that ever happened)? I had no clue where she was at--both physically and emotionally, so I was left to wonder what on earth she did with her time in the city that seemed to belong to her. 

Our meeting was over--I stood from the chair and hoped to god I could get some food into me before I had to go to whatever meeting I had next. Finishing the album brought forth a lot of conversations about money and planning and terms of agreement. 

“Grab a burger?” Emma suggested, watching as I followed behind her towards the door. I reached into my pocket, fishing my phone out and checking the messages I’d received in the span of an hour and a half. One was from Mitch, the other from a friend, and two from my mom. 

“Sounds delightful,” I said with a smile, listening as my publicist began to list good places nearby. 

Jeff held his hand out to motion towards the door--ushering me back to the car that would be waiting outside. “There’s that place in the Roosevelt Hotel,” he reminded.

“That place has great fries,” Mark--the head of the artist relations spoke, following us into the hallway. “Good to see you, Harry, we’ll meet again in a few weeks once we get this finalized on our end.”

I shook his hand, offering a smile. “Thanks, of course, good to see you as well.”

I turned to follow them towards the main entrance, still distracted by the messages on my phone. I followed silently behind them, laughing at the picture my mum had sent of her cat in the garden, until suddenly, I lifted my eyes and saw her watching me with wide eyes. 

My feet kept moving--mostly because Jeff’s were doing the same behind me. Emma was staring straight ahead--both of them likely just as surprised as I was. 

Sinead seemed to knock into her from behind, lifting her eyes to connect with mine. Margot--whose hair looked darker and whose eyes seemed less sunken in--fell back into step quickly, almost as if she hadn’t faltered at all. 

Jeff was in the middle of a sentence--something about what Mark had said and the car outside and suddenly his words were floating around in the hallway like they’d fade after a few minutes if I didn’t respond. 

“Yeah, sounds good,” I said--unsure if my response was even appropriate or logical. I followed Emma out to the parking lot, and once the door was shut behind us, I turned to face Jeff. 

Emma, who’d turned to face me, seemed to scan over my face to make sure I was okay. 

“Is no one going to address that?” I asked, holding my palms up to encourage some kind of response from either of them. They both stared at me blankly. “Am I supposed to go back in there? Am I supposed to go address the fact that she’s here and we just saw each other and--”

“And say what?” Jeff asked, lifting his pointer finger to flick his sunglasses down over his eyes. “It’s been over a year.”

“I’m aware, Jeffrey,” I bit out, narrowing my eyes at him. 

He’d long been a supporter of the Move On From Margot campaign--something that seemed to be a common theme among my friends and family and team. 

“I’m not trying to be hard on her, okay? I just don’t want you to--” he cut himself off, letting his shoulders rise and fall as a car pulled up to deliver us to our next location. He opened the door and let Emma climb in first. 

I faltered for a second--my eyes flickering back to the doorway. Was I supposed to do something? Was I supposed to talk to her? 

“Don’t want me to what?” I prompted, the hum of the engine quieted when the car shifted into park. 

“I don’t want you to move backwards. You’ve done so well since the New Year.” I let out a sigh, looking down at the ground before back up at him. “Let’s get lunch.”

I gave in then--I climbed into the car and watched as the building faded out of sight. I wondered why she was there and what she thought and did she notice that I cut my hair?

I pulled opened the message thread between us--the one that I’d saved and had yet to erase. 

Her last message stared up at me. 

I’m room 1432. Come by when you can. 

I should have known then. I should have known when she got her own hotel room and asked me to come by. I should have known it was coming. 

I let my thumbs hover over the keys, as if I had something to say or words to speak and emotion to show. After a few seconds of staring at those words--the last she’d sent me, I deleted the thread entirely. 

THEN - Day 753

“Don’t even touch it, Liam,” Louis voice was louder than necessary, but my laughter seemed to drown out Harry’s groan as Niall pushed play on the laptop in my lap. 

“I’ll touch whatever I want, thank you very much,” Liam replied calmly, watching as the screen turned from black to white, big text filling the screen that read Where We Are 2014. 

Niall had decided he was going to document their tour--small clips from his phone, pictures we’d all taken, different footage of the five of them goofing around started to play as Zayn shoved Louis so he could get a better look. 

The tour was almost over--mine had ended two weeks prior--so we were officially set up to be on the same continent for a little over two months. And it was moments like these, really, that made the traveling and the distance worth it. 

A photo of Liam and I with giant sombreros flashed across the screen, followed by a clip of the night that Harry caught 29 goldfish in his mouth when he demanded I throw them and we try to set a world record. 

Harry--who’d been more emotional than usual--was reluctant to even watch. He knew that the end of tour always made him a bit nostalgic, and while that was more than okay with me, he didn’t necessarily love the teasing that came from the rest of the boys. 

I sat next to him on the floor of the green room, my back up against the couch as we all stared at the laptop that Niall had lugged around all summer. Lou and Paul were watching on as well, and Harry’s hand on my thigh felt like a good reminder that even when I had bad days, I had the people beside me to bring me back down to earth. 

I wondered, when I was on the road with them, if it would have been easier to do all of this with a band. Would there be less stress if the fame had been spread amongst three or four other girls? Would I have more fun if I had friends with me on stage, people to walk red carpets with? 

Sure, I’d somehow become a package deal with his band, often attending events together and even walking red carpets as if I was just part of the group--but did I stand a better chance as a part of a whole?

The truth was that I’d never know, and while there were certainly perks to being in a group, there were also drawbacks. I saw the way the boys would fight. I saw the angry text messages and the cold stares after a disagreement the night before. 

I saw what it was like to be stuck around the same five people--literally in the same ten foot vicinity with the same five people--for months on end. I saw the way that they were sad to leave tour, but also thankful for their own bed that wasn’t just a meter below someone else’s. 

“Oh, Liam--the cutest little grin,” Zayn laughed, his accent thick as he reached up to pinch Liam’s cheeks. 

I think these were the moments when we all questioned what life would be like had it turned out any other way. How would things be for them if they weren’t a group? What would happen if there were three or four instead of five? Changes within our little world felt like they’d rock the boat to a sea where we couldn’t sail. 

“You look fucking wasted there, Harry,” Louis laughed, his finger pointing to the screen--a picture of Harry and Liam with their arms around each other in a parking lot told me (based on the grin on Harry’s face both in the photo and in the present moment) that he likely was. 

There were pictures of them in various airports--embarrassing photos of me asleep on a couch in Milwaukee, and even photographic evidence that I’d beaten Niall in a game of ping pong once in Madrid. 

I watched as they all stared at the screen--and I couldn’t help but wonder if they ever had the same thoughts as me. Did they feel as suffocated? Did they wonder what it’d be like to quit or move or just not wake up?

Maybe they did--maybe they had their days where they wondered if this was all meant to be. But the hardest part was the fact that I knew I couldn’t ask. If I did--I might feel even more alone. 

NOW - Day 1720

Nathan was sat at the board as my voice filled the headphones. I watched his face--wondering if he thought the vocal was good enough to keep. 

He tapped his foot to the beat, the watch on his wrist (a gift from his wife in 2014 when we’d finished my last album) caught the light from the window as he shifted in his seat and sighed. 

Making music felt good. It felt natural and normal and in a way, it felt healing. It felt comforting to reflect on the feelings that had once sat so heavy on my chest--even if they weren’t completely gone. Amanda said it was therapeutic--almost like retelling my story and reprocessing the memories, except this time, I knew the ending. 

I knew that Harry was back and that I was okay and that now--even with the anxious feeling that was never too far away--I knew I could handle it. 

My voice faded from the headphones in my ears--we’d only recorded a verse and the first chorus. 

“I think that’s good,” he said, looking up at me. “Let’s do the second verse and see how we feel later tonight.”

I stood from my seat beside him, ready to head back into the booth. 

“Did you tell Harry you’re here today?”

I turned around once I was inside, the glass window separating us as I reached for the new set of headphones to play my feedback. “Yeah--but, I don’t know what he thinks I’m recording.”

“What do you mean?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t think he knows that I’m recording stuff from back then.” 

All of the songs we’d worked on so far--the titles written on post it’s that were now stuck to the wall--were my side of things. Maybe not as blatant, maybe not as literal and direct--but they were my version of the same story that Harry had already told. 

And when I thought about it like that, I got angry. With Harry on the other side of the world for  his promo and press tour and me in a studio in Calabasas, I felt like it wasn’t fair that he got to do it first. 

Especially because his side of things didn’t exactly feel true. 

I’d spoken with Amanda about how it all felt: the fact that I was the bad guy in his story and he was the one who was helpless and hopeless and had nowhere to turn. 

Whether or not things felt okay between me and Harry--whether or not he was starting to call me lovie again and whether or not we were sleeping together, I couldn’t help but wonder if a part of him was angry and hurt and wanted me to pay for what I did. 

“Are you gonna tell him?”

I sighed at that--I hadn’t moved beyond the thoughts of how do I communicate with someone I’m sleeping with but who doesn’t have the same label he used to have but is currently on the other side of the planet?

“I’ll tell him eventually. I mean--he’ll hear it eventually.”

Nathan let out a laugh, his lips pursing together as he nodded. “I mean--don’t dish it if you can’t take it, right?”

NOW - Day 1727

I guess it was Harry’s way of showing he was dedicated. 

Hillary had an opening on a day that he wasn’t in town--in fact, he was in Barcelona in a hotel room sitting on a king-sized bed. But his face was on the screen of my laptop, situated next to me on the couch in Hillary’s office as she let out a laugh. 

“Can you hear us? If you miss anything we say, just raise your hand.”

“Got it,” he smiled, the corners of his lips twitched upward as he looked from Hillary and then to me. 

It’d be fine so far. Fine enough in the sense that I was keeping busy with Nathan and dodging the media, and Harry was busy doing everything in front of the media to promote the album. Amanda had suggested I tell him a bit more--tell him that there was a part of me that was angry about the album. A part of me that was tormented over the thought that he’d slept with someone else. 

And most importantly, she said, that I tell him about my plans to release the songs I was working on with Nathan in the same studio where I’d recorded my album that won a Grammy for Album of the Year. 

It’s not that the songs were harsh: they weren’t necessarily accusatory or spiteful or anything like that. Instead, they were honest. They told my version of 2015 and 2016 and Harry might not like it. 

But did he have the right? Did he have the right to be upset about my side of the story if I had to grin and bear it about his? I didn’t say a thing. I didn’t tell him when I got DMs from people attacking me for breaking his heart. I didn’t let him know that I had bookmarked a few articles from the NYT and the Post about how his album seems to really put the nail in the coffin of our relationship. 

Because after all, how could we salvage anything after he told the entire world how everything was my fault?

I knew I needed to tell him--I knew the good of our relationship rested on the assumption that we would be nothing but honest. Which, realistically, probably meant that I had a few things to come clean about. The songs. My feelings about his album. The stomachache I got when I opened my social media accounts--still with nothing new posted since 2015--to see messages and comments calling me an attention whore and a bitch and just about everything in between.

“So--how has the distance been so far?” Hillary asked, her eyes flicking between the both of us as she waited to see who would answer. Harry seemed quiet, his eyes insinuating (even through a computer screen) that he wanted me to talk first. 

“Good, I guess. We’ve talked a fair amount.”

Hillary nodded, her eyes moving to the computer screen quickly. 

“Yeah--” Harry shrugged. “Despite the time difference we’ve talked on the phone every day.”

“How are you both feeling about being apart?”

Again, Harry’s eyes were on me. I wondered--for a second--if there was a part of him that just wanted to hear all of my thoughts and feelings out of fear that he wouldn’t get access to them if we weren’t in this room. 

“Uh--I kind of feel, like, stressed, I guess.” The words felt rocky--it felt new and strange to be speaking honestly in front of him. 

“What feels stressful?” Hillary prompted me to say more--I shifted in the seat and looked over to Harry. I knew the drill--she was asking me to speak more directly to him and use ‘I’ statements. 

“I feel like I got left behind while you’re out having fun doing all sorts of album stuff. I don’t know if that makes sense,” I said quickly, looking to Hillary for some reassurance. 

His eyebrows dipped together in the center of his forehead, but he nodded--apparently urging me to continue. 

I took a deep breath and bit at my lip before saying more. “I guess I’m a little angry that I got painted like the bad guy. I know I already said that and you’re just telling your side of it, but there’s been a lot of backlash.”

“Backlash?”

“Yes, Harry, backlash.”

He tugged at his lip and looked off screen for a second. “How so?”

“On social media and online and stuff,” I shrugged, a little annoyed that he was clueless. “People are just really going at it--a lot of your fans are angry at me for the way things went down.”

“Well--they don’t know the whole story.”

“But they think they do. They think your album is the whole story.”

He was quiet at this. Hillary leaned back in her chair and adjusted her ponytail. Apparently she was pleased with our communication, whether or not it was emotional. 

“What are they saying?”

“That I’m a bitch and that I didn’t care about you. I mean--none of that is new, I knew they felt that way when we broke up. But I didn’t see it all. I wasn’t looking online.”

“So--should you not look?” He asked the question innocently enough, but it irked me as I brushed a strang of hair behind my ear. 

“It’s not that simple, Harry.”

“Margot--I don’t know what to tell you. This is why I warned you--I wanted you to know it was coming and I wanted you to be prepared.”

“I know,” I said, suddenly feeling guilty for my emotions. I knew he did it to be nice--I knew that his good nature is the reason we were even here--in couples counseling like some kind of lifetime movie. 

“You have to understand though that it’s hard to be silent right now when you’re out there in the spotlight telling a story that doesn’t feel true.”

“Margot,” Hillary interrupted, her eyes narrowed a bit. “I’m wondering if you could tell me how it feels to be stuck here--especially if you’re not getting to tell your side of things right now.”

I took a deep breath--Harry let out a sigh and I searched for the words in Hillary’s cozy office. 

“I feel abandoned, sort of. I feel left behind and forgotten and I guess angry. And I feel like I’m in trouble for doing something wrong when I didn’t do anything.”

Harry’s face scrunched at that. Apparently he disagreed. 

“Harry?” Hillary turned to the computer. “What’s it feel like to hear Margot say all of that.”

“S’confusing,” he shrugged. “I feel accused now, I guess. I didn’t abandon her or forget her. I’m just working. She--of all people--should know what that’s like.”

I rolled my eyes--annoyed at his passive aggressive tone. 

Hillary tried again. “But do you feel any other way other than accused?”

He licked his lips and thought for a second. The hotel room was dark behind him--I wondered what time it was and what time he had to be awake. A feeling of appreciating washed over me. He wasn’t perfect. He certainly wasn’t flawless and completely free of blame--but at least he was trying. 

And that gave me hope. Hope for the future of us and for the future of whatever it was between us. In this awkward stage post break-up, we moved like figurines, cracked and fragile and worried about the damage that could ensue with just a few words. 

I couldn’t help but resent that, though. Because here, sitting in Hillary’s office, with Harry transported in through pixels and WiFi, he was ignoring the fact that he’d written an entire album about our the time we shared and the time we then tried to forget. He was sitting here as if he hadn’t put me on blast and opened up our story to the criticism of the whole world. Something about it felt unfair.

So sure--maybe I was angry. Maybe I was angry that I was stuck in California wondering what he did in Barcelona today--similarly to the last 18 months. Maybe I was angry because all of the polarized feelings felt rushed and fleeting and I didn’t really know what to do or say next in the neverending psychodrama of my relationship with Harry. 

But I knew one thing for sure: if he got to tell his side of the story, I got to tell mine. 

[mikauzoran]

Adrienette Drabble Twenty-Nine: Sister

Luka tossed his tie onto the bed and was just starting to unbutton his shirt when a knock came at the cabin door.

“Come in?”

Juleka entered, raising a hand in greeting. With a little hop and a belly-flop, she landed on the bed.

Luka chuckled even as he arched an eyebrow. “What’s up, Jules? I was just about to sit down and write a song. I got some inspiration tonight, and some new music’s been twirling about in my mind. I want to pin it down before it Cinderellas away.”

Juleka rolled over onto her back, grabbing the tie and snapping it at him like a whip. “Does your Cinderella have blonde hair and green eyes?” she hummed mischievously.

With a sigh, Luka went to grab one of his guitars from its stand. He took a seat on the bed and started strumming experimentally until something low, seductive, and sensuous took shape, twisting around the notes like the gyrations of a belly dancer, inviting yet insistent.

“So…Adrien Agreste.” Juleka spoke up once more. “Not just eye candy after all?” She indicated the small poster of Adrien hanging amongst the band posters and personal pictures on the wall next to Luka’s bed.

Luka glanced up at the image. Adrien’s burgundy dress shirt was unbuttoned and hanging open. He had one hand on his waist, thumb gently tugging down his jeans and exposing the top band of his boxers. Adrien’s eyes positively smoldered, and the confident smirk sealed the deal. It was the first in a series of more mature poses that Gabriel had released for the previous year’s spring line.

Luka sighed. “I think this was a one-night-only deal. I’m guessing you saw us dancing?”

“Was that supposed to be dancing?” Juleka snickered patronizingly.

Luka rolled his eyes. “Like you don’t do the same thing with Rose.”

“Rose and I are in a committed, long-term relationship,” Juleka countered. “You’re just lucky your girlfriend didn’t see.”

Luka strummed a few notes, going back to the serpentine melody Adrien had put into his head. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong. It was just dancing. Just platonic flirting. We set mutually agreeable ground rules.”

“I would never dance like that with someone besides Rose,” Juleka snorted, flipping her raven hair out of her face. “And how can you platonically flirt with someone you’ve had a crush on for, like, four years? Does Marinette know you’re bi?”

Luka shrugged. “Hasn’t come up.”

“What if she had seen you?” Juleka pressed. “I can’t believe you’d risk things with Marinette after waiting so long to be with her for half an hour of physical gratification with that boy toy.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Luka groaned, setting aside the guitar to peer down at his sister. “When the guy you’ve had a crush on for a couple years blushes and looks up at you nervously and asks you to dance with him, what the hell do you do? There is only one answer to that question.”

“And it should have been, ‘Adrien, I have a girlfriend.’” Juleka’s amber eyes pierced him with their accusations.

“I reminded him of my relationship status when we set the platonic ground rules,” Luka offered, sticking to his guns despite knowing he wasn’t exactly in the right.

Juleka shook her head, pushing herself up to sitting with her back against the wall. “You lied. You were lying to Marinette, to Adrien, and to yourself pretending there was anything platonic about the way you danced with him.”

Luka put his hands up in surrender and went back to his guitar. “Guilty,” he whispered.

They fell silent as Luka returned to his tantalizing tune, expanding upon the twists and turns, remembering Adrien’s body against his own.

“As much as I don’t want you to be with Marinette because she’s going to hurt you, I don’t know if Adrien is any better,” Juleka sighed, flexing and pointing her toes. “There have been a lot of rumors going around about him these past few months.”

Luka clicked his tongue. “Who’s been spreading rumors? You know better than to gossip, Jules.”

She shrugged. “Lila’s the gossip monger in the class. The whole school talks about him, though. He makes it easy.”

“Don’t you guys have better things to discuss?” Luka sniffed, disappointed.

Juleka rolled her eyes. “It’s not the only thing we talk about. We do have lives, you know…. It’s just…he’s been kind of AWOL these past few months. Before, he used to hang out with everyone whenever his father let him, but a couple months ago he started saying that he had plans with his girlfriend. That was fine at first, but he had plans with his girlfriend all the time, and when people would see him with a girl, it would always be a different one. Mylène asked Alya, and Alya said that Adrien was a slut and that he was going out with all these older girls. No one knows how many or which ones he was sleeping with, but…he’d been kind of weird and quiet up to that point. I mean, he was nice whenever he did get to hang out with other people, but all of the sudden he was acting like some rich playboy, and he couldn’t be bothered to make time for the rest of us.”

“I mean, I don’t know him well, but from the time that I’ve spent with him, that doesn’t sound like Adrien,” Luka hummed thoughtfully. “Did anyone ask him about what was going on?”

Juleka shrugged. “No one really got the chance to talk to him. He ran off right after school either for extra curriculars or girlfriends, and during lunch and before school he was always with Alya, Nino, and Marinette. He couldn’t be bothered with anybody else.”

“So…you’re worried that Adrien is some philandering Casanova who’s going to break my heart?” Luka guessed. “Is that your concern?”

Juleka shook her head and shrugged again. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to be concerned about because the guy’s been such a flake these past few months. After dating all those girls, he seemed to be dating some redhead for a while, and then he dated the girl Kim was in love with for, like, a week, and it sounds like he royally screwed her over, and then Adrien turned into a total ghost. Like, he comes into class seconds before the bell, and as soon as class lets out, he disappears. He doesn’t come down to the lunchroom to eat with us, and as soon as school ends for the day, he’s gone. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with that kid, but I don’t think I want my brother involved.”

Luka pursed his lips. “Huh.” He tried to reconcile what he’d heard from his sister with what he had observed of Adrien that evening. “Had anyone considered that he might be going through an emotional crisis and be in need of a friend?”

Juleka drew her knees up to her chest. “Last I heard, the prevailing theory was drugs. Don’t get me wrong, we all liked Adrien, but none of us was really close to him. He’s not an easy person to get close to.”

“Did anyone try?” Luka challenged.

Juleka shook her head. “We tried a few years ago. With his schedule, he doesn’t have a lot of time for close friendships. Recently…well, no one really wants to get caught up in whatever’s going down with him. We all have our own crap to deal with.”

Luka winced, remembering the look of confusion on Adrien’s face as Adrien asked Luka earnestly why Luka would want to be his friend.

Kids were so stupid and self-centered at that age…not that Luka could claim the high ground only two years ahead of them, but…

“It sounds to me like he was drowning and needed someone to pull him out,” Luka muttered as the chords slowly dipped into the minor key.

“That’s what he has Nino and Alya for.” Juleka mumbled.

“And Marinette,” Luka added.

Juleka pushed her hair out of the way to stare at her brother in confusion. “Well, yeah. Before, I guess.”

Luka set aside his guitar to frown at his sister. “Before what?”

Juleka shrugged. “Before whatever went down between them a month ago.”

The hair on the back of Luka’s neck stood up. “What…happened between Adrien and Marinette a month ago?”

Juleka shrugged harder. “No one knows exactly. Nino, Alya, and Marinette won’t talk about it, and, like I said, no one can catch Adrien to talk to him, so…” The crease in Juleka’s brow deepened. “I thought your girlfriend would have mentioned it. Marinette hasn’t said anything about why she and Adrien aren’t talking?”

“They’re not talking,” Luka repeated uncomprehendingly, testing each word on his tongue, tasting it for meaning. “Since when are Marinette and Adrien not talking? The way Marinette talks about him, it sounds like they’re best friends.”

Juleka shook her head slowly, crossing her legs so that they were stacked one on top of the other in fire log pose. “Maybe a month or a little bit longer? They’re all weird around each other.”

Suddenly the room felt unnaturally cold. “How sure are you about this? The way Adrien was talking, everything between them was fine. Like, they’d just talked. He said she’d showed him the new designs she’d just come up with over the weekend, and she’d told him about our date on Tuesday, and she invited him to her graduation party tomorrow. He…”

He had been acting extremely off those last five minutes they’d been together. Luka had felt that something was wrong. The way Adrien had been talking fast, nervously, and the panic attack coming out of nowhere while they were slow dancing…while they were talking about Marinette. After Luka had said he was there with Marinette. After Adrien…had seemed surprised to hear that Luka and Marinette were dating.

Luka winced. “Oh, no. Jules, how sure are you that there’s something wrong between Adrien and Marinette?”

Juleka could only shrug. “About a month ago, there was a rumor that some girl had left Adrien crying on a park bench. A week ago, people started saying that it was Marinette.”

Suddenly Luka remembered what Adrien had said about having an emotional breakdown and having his heart crushed. It all lined up.

“I don’t know if that’s true or not,” Juleka continued, “but all Marinette will say is to leave Adrien alone and that he didn’t do anything wrong. She almost ripped Mylène’s head off for saying something about Adrien, and that got Ivan involved, and—”

“—Adrien is the other guy,” Luka gasped in realization. “Adrien is the guy that Marinette meant when she told me that she was still stuck on someone else, isn’t he?”

Juleka stared at her brother blankly, unimpressed. “Luka, don’t play stupid. You knew Adrien was the guy she meant.”

“I suspected,” Luka corrected. “I did not know. Adrien was one of the possible suspects, and I knew they were doing the will-we-won’t-we thing when I first met them, but…I didn’t want to assume. Marinette didn’t name names, and I…” He shrugged impotently.

Juleka shook her head slowly in reproof. “With Marinette, it has only ever been Adrien.”

“And yet she somehow was the one to break his heart?” Luka muttered, trying but failing to comprehend. “…Did he know I was dating Marinette? Did she tell him?”

Juleka could only give her brother the nth shrug of the night.

“Shit,” Luka hissed, grabbing his phone off of the nightstand. “He couldn’t have known. There is no way he could have been so friendly with the guy who was dating the girl he liked. And I just sprung it on him like that. No wonder he freaked. Shit.”

He opened his latest text conversation with Marinette and typed, “we need to TALK re: adrien”. He followed that up with, “does anyone know if he made it home ok”.

“Who are you texting?” Juleka inquired, transitioning back down onto her stomach.

“Marinette,” Luka grumbled, glaring at his screen.

“Are you going to break up with her?” Juleka hummed in interest.

Luka looked up with a puzzled frown. “Why would I break up with her?”

Juleka rolled her eyes. “She’s in love with Adrien and conveniently left that part out?”

Luka matched his sister’s eyeroll. “She told me she was stuck on someone and asked if I still wanted to date her. I’m the one who said yes. She didn’t want to talk about the other guy; I respected her privacy and the fact that I don’t have a right to her past, even if I am her present. Our relationship is two weeks old. There are things I haven’t told her yet.”

Juleka averted her gaze with a silent pout.

“I’m worried about Adrien.” Luka blew out a frustrated sigh, falling back onto the bed beside his sister. “I shouldn’t have let him go off by himself when I could tell that something wasn’t right. Though, I was probably the last person he wanted to be around in that moment, but…”

Luka stared up at his phone, willing it to buzz with good news. He contemplated texting Adrien himself—he still had the number from when he’d given Adrien guitar lessons, provided the number hadn’t changed in two years—but he didn’t think Adrien wanted to hear from him, given the situation, even if Luka was only trying to determine if Adrien was safe.

“meet pont des arts tomorrow ten?” greeted Luka instead. Marinette then added, “alya saw him get in his car” and “ninos trying to reach him”.

Luka turned his head to glance at his sister. “Do you have Nino’s number?”

Juleka dug out her phone and opened up her contacts. “Maybe from a project or something? …Here.” Juleka handed the mobile over.

Luka typed the number into his own phone and hit dial, getting up to pace as he waited for Nino to pick up. He wasn’t kept waiting long.

“Adrien?” Nino asked frantically.

“Luka,” Luka sighed. “Have you heard anything from him?”

“He’s not answering,” Nino blew out a long, anxious breath. “I’m on my way to his house.”

“Shit,” Luka repeated for emphasis, running a hand roughly through his hair and pulling.

“Tell me about it,” Nino grumbled.

Luka could hear Nino’s feet slapping the pavement in the background.

“…So whose idea was it not to tell me about the Marinette-Adrien minefield situation? That would have been useful knowledge,” Luka hissed, taking his frustration out on Nino. “Better yet, whose idea was it not to tell Adrien?”

“Dude,” Nino growled, “talk to your girlfriend…. But maybe not tonight. She’s kind of rough. Alya said she and Adrien had a ‘confrontation’ after Adrien ran into you.”

The anger and annoyance quickly drained from Luka. He stopped pacing. “Is Marinette okay?”

Nino shook his head and sighed. “No freaking idea. She’s pretending she’s okay, but she doesn’t want to talk to Alya about it, so… Listen, Mec. It’s gonna be a long night for me. After I lay siege to the Agreste Mansion to make sure Adrien’s okay, I’m headed to Marinette’s. Can you sit tight, and I’ll text you as soon as I know something?”

“Yeah,” Luka whispered, suddenly exhausted. “That would be great. Thanks, Nino. Just…text me as soon as you know he made it home safe…and if Marinette needs me.”

“All right. I—Hold on. I just got a text.”

Luka heard Nino’s footsteps slow to a stop as Nino looked down at his screen and muttered under his breath, “Monsieur Lahiffe, thank you for your concern. Adrien has retired for the evening and will contact you at a later date.”

Nino snorted and was suddenly back with Luka. “The text was from one of Adrien’s parentals. It looks like he went to bed and dropped his phone off with them. Part of me wants to break into his room and see for myself that he’s okay, but…I guess I’ll let him sleep for now and check in first thing tomorrow. I’m gonna head over to Marinette’s and relieve Alya. Was there anything else you needed, Luka?”

“No,” Luka sighed again. “Thank you, Nino. Sorry to bug you.”

With a shrug, Nino turned around, headed back towards the bakery. “No big, Dude,” he assured. “Night.”

“Night,” Luka mumbled, letting the phone drop to his side as he trudged back over to sit on the bed.

Juleka frowned interrogatively.

“Apparently Marinette and Adrien had some sort of ‘confrontation’,” Luka explained. “Adrien is at home, and Marinette’s with friends.”

Juleka nodded slowly. “And you’re sure that this is something that you want to be involved with? These two?”

Luka picked his guitar up and resumed strumming thoughtfully.

“…Why can’t you get back together with that guy you were dating a couple months ago?” Juleka groaned. “He was nice and stable.”

“Baptiste realized he likes girls,” Luka reported without missing a beat.

“And the girl you were with before that? The art student?” Juleka tried.

“Claire also realized that she likes girls,” Luka snickered, amused. “Apparently I have that effect on people.”

Juleka pursed her lips, listening to the new tune Luka had started on. It sounded like loneliness and rivers and moonlight. It didn’t sound like Luka’s personal melancholy, though.

“I’m worried about you,” Juleka muttered.

“Don’t be,” Luka stressed. “I’ve survived breakups and messy relationships before. Yeah, it sucks, but it’s not the end of the world. I’m durable, Jules…and…Marinette and Adrien have always been my biggest what-ifs. My crushes on them don’t ever seem to go away, even when I don’t see much of them for months and months. Maybe this is good.”

“How can this be good? This looks like a train wreck,” Juleka grumbled.

“Maybe it does go down in flames,” Luka replied with a nonchalant dispassion. “But then I can stop what-ifing myself and maybe move on and find the person I’m supposed to be with. Things aren’t inherently good or bad, Jules; they’re just experiences. You have to work to find the good in things. That’s all I’m trying to do.”

“Forgive me for being a pessimist,” Juleka scoffed, sitting up and pulling out her phone. “…Are you and Marinette going to talk about Adrien?”

Luka nodded. “Tomorrow at ten, before her graduation party.”

“Are you going to tell her about your feelings for Adrien?” Juleka pressed. “Marinette is my friend, and what you did tonight made me really uncomfortable. You’re my brother, and I don’t want to rat you out, but if something like this happens again…”

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb?” Luka mused. “It’s okay if that’s what you decide.”

“Just don’t cheat on Marinette, okay?” Juleka huffed, piling her hair on top of her head and then letting it fall.

“I wouldn’t cheat on Marinette,” Luka assured, finally looking up from his guitar and meeting his sister’s eyes. “What happened tonight with Adrien was a fluke. He probably hates me now, so don’t worry about it.”

“What if he doesn’t?” Juleka muttered down at her phone, scrolling through the pictures she had taken at the party. “He looked pretty into you. I was surprised because I thought he was totally straight, but…what if he doesn’t hate you?”

Luka quirked an eyebrow.

Juleka held up her phone.

The bottom fell out of his stomach, and his face blanched.

As he flipped through the pictures, studying the images of Adrien and himself, his entire body felt warm. He bit down softly on his bottom lip.

“Where are your hands in this one?” Juleka chuckled.

Somewhere they shouldn’t be.

“J-Just on his thighs.”

“And where are his hands in this one?” Juleka hummed, arching an eyebrow in suspicion.

In Luka’s back pockets.

Luka’s face flushed. “At the small of my back. Juleka, you need to erase these. These shouldn’t exist.”

Shaking her head, Juleka swiped her phone back.

“You can’t just take pictures of people without their consent like this. Adrien’s father could sue you,” Luka hissed, trying to snatch back the mobile.

Juleka rolled her eyes, stuffing the phone down the front of her top. “Isn’t that just if I publish them? These are staying on my phone unless I see fit to send them to Marinette as evidence.”

“Juleka,” Luka warned. “Don’t. No one can see those. Erase them now.”

“Nope.” She let the syllable go with a petulant pop.

“Erase them, or I’m going to tell Mom that you’re sleeping with Rose,” Luka threatened.

Juleka stared at him, unimpressed. “Luc, I talked to Mom about it before I started sleeping with Rose. If you think you can bully or blackmail me into deleting those pictures, you’re wrong. The only way you can save your own hide is by not cheating on Marinette again.”

Luka forced himself to take a deep breath. He ran a hand through his hair and slowly let it out. “Jules, this isn’t about me.”

She gave him a dubious look as she waited for him to elaborate.

“This is about Adrien. Look, you and I, in the grand scheme of things, we’re nobodies. Very few people care whom we’re sleeping with. The populous at large doesn’t care if we date boys or girls or what. It’s not like that for Adrien,” Luka explained patiently but emphatically, trying to get his point across. “Say you send those photos to Marinette. What if she sends them to Alya? What if Alya sends them to one or two other people? What if people start talking about this? You said there were already rumors going around about Adrien. What if someone gets their hands on these photos and posts them online? There’s no going back from there. Sure, you only meant to send them to one person, but stuff like this has a way of getting out of hand quickly.”

Juleka averted her eyes, looking down at the bedspread as Luka made his case.

“Adrien is internationally famous. Sure, it’s not rare for a male model to be gay or bi, but something tells me that Adrien’s father isn’t an open-minded guy, and I doubt this is how Adrien would want his father to find out…if he ever intends to tell his father at all…if this is actually even a thing,” Luka sighed. “Jules, Adrien is going through a rough time right now. He just got his heart broken, and he was a little tipsy tonight. When he asked me to dance…he was so nervous. I didn’t get the impression he had ever flirted with a guy before. When I said that I had thought he was straight, he said that he thought he was. Obviously, he’s still questioning and trying to figure himself out, and what happened with me was an experiment. Do you really want to risk burning him like this the first time he tests the waters?”

Juleka’s shoulders slowly squeezed up to meet her ears.

“I mean, you remember what it was like when you first started to think you had romantic feelings for Rose,” Luka pushed. “You remember how scared and confused you were, and that was even after I had come out as bi two years before and you already knew you had a loving, supportive family. Can you even imagine what it must be like for Adrien trying to figure himself out with the media always breathing down his neck waiting to jump on him for every little thing? Can you imagine going through what you went through without your family’s support? Because I’m not convinced that Adrien really has anyone backing him through this.”

Luka took a deep breath, the urgency leaving his voice. “I’m pretty sure he’s going to hate me now that he knows about me and Marinette, but…on the off chance that he doesn’t, I’d like to be there to support him. If he does decide he’s bi, I want to make things easier on him than they were on me. If you’ll remember, I didn’t have any gay or bi role models or mentors to help me and answer questions when I was figuring out who I was. If he doesn’t hate me, I’d like to be there for him as a friend.”

Juleka took her phone out of her top and tossed it on the bed beside Luka. “Look through and see if there are any you want to save for yourself as a kind of souvenir from your ‘one-night stand’ with Adrien Agreste before you delete them.”

Luka picked up the phone and slowly scrolled through, committing each one to memory. He selected only one, the most innocent, and forwarded it to himself.

Adrien had one hand on Luka’s shoulder while Luka’s left hand rested lightly on Adrien’s hip. Luka was smiling fondly as Adrien began to laugh, his mouth open in a wide, toothy grin, his eyes beginning to scrunch up cutely. It didn’t necessarily have to be romantic. It could just as easily have been two friends sharing an inside joke. Only Luka knew what he’d said to make Adrien laugh like that.

Luka deleted the rest and then cleared them out of Juleka’s recently deleted bin before handing his sister her phone back with a solemn, “Thanks, Jules.”

With the final shrug of the night, Juleka got to her feet and headed for the door. “He was always such a cupcake before whatever happened five months ago,” she muttered as she went. “He doesn’t deserve bad things to happen to him.”

She paused in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder. “Behave, Luc. Prove me wrong and be happy with Marinette, okay?”

“Doing my best,” Luka assured.

The door closed behind Juleka, and Luka was left alone with his thoughts. He fiddled around on his guitar for another half hour before he finally turned in for the night.

Sleep eluded him.

He tossed and he turned, and when he eventually managed to drift off, smiles, laughter, the warmth of another body, the secondhand smell of bakery, and two distinct pairs of eyes: one green and one blue haunted his dreams.

[kitty-bandit]

Just Friends

Rating: E Fandom: Original Setting Pairing: Orha x Akihiko (OCs owned by @kandasboi​) Tags: Drama™; Romance; Dealing with an Ex; A/B/O Dynamics(ish); Heat Sex; Sex; Oral Sex; Anal Sex; Anal Fingering; Multiple Orgasms; Barebacking

I’m back again, and this time with a commission for @kandasboi! The request was for his OCs. If you want to read the other two fics I’ve written for him involving these OCs, you can find them here and here.

If you’d like to commission me, check out my commission info!

Keep walking. Don’t turn around—

Orha kept his gaze forward, looking straight ahead as he quickened his pace in the hope that Malakai would give up pursuit. He hunched his shoulders, holding his books tight to his chest and clenching his jaw as he speed-walked through campus. But that subtle hint, and his not-so-subtle body language, didn’t dissuade his ex from taking chase. Hurried footsteps echoed behind him and he heard Malakai call his name—louder this time—as he closed the distance between them. Finally, a strong hand gripped his shoulder and yanked him to a stop before he could cross the street.  

“Didn’t you hear me? I was calling you for half a block.” 

Out of breath, Orha turned and looked up at Malakai’s handsome face. He hated that he still thought of him as handsome, even after all the shit he had put him through. But it was hard not to see his beauty—that strong, muscled body and pretty face framed with the softest brown and gray ombre hair. He wished Malakai looked as ugly on the outside as he did inside, that the world would work like that sometimes. It would make it easier to see people for who they really were—before you gave them the chance to hurt you. 

“What do you want?” Orha refused to meet his brown eyes, instead staring at the courtyard and watching a squirrel forage under a tree. His heart refused to calm itself, beating a mile a minute as he waited for Malakai to speak his peace. 

Malakai rummaged through his messenger bag and pulled out a thickly bound book. “Here, I found this and I thought you’d like it.” 

He shoved the book into Orha’s arms, leaving Orha scrambling to keep from dropping his other books in the process. Orha bit his lip to keep from snapping, but couldn’t stifle an exasperated sigh. After rearranging the books in his arms, he looked down at the one Malakai had given him. It was a history book, and one he’d wanted for a while. He hadn’t purchased it because of the price, though. And Malakai just...

Orha shook his head and met Malakai’s gaze. “Why are you giving this to me?”

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. He had to be faking it—Malakai wasn’t that dumb. Orha had learned how manipulative he could be, and had paid the price for it. “I saw it in the bookstore yesterday. Are you saying you don’t want it?”

“No, I—” Orha sighed and looked back down at the book. “It’s expensive.” 

“You know I can afford it.” 

“That doesn’t matter—we’re not together. You shouldn’t buy me things anymore.” 

Malakai shrugged, looking more at ease than he had the right to be—especially with Orha’s nerves knotted up like rope. “Consider it a gift from a friend, then.” 

Orha let out a stunted laugh as he stared down at the book cover. Friends. Friends didn’t harass you or spread rumors about you or destroy your property just for fun. They weren’t friends and, as far as Orha was concerned, they never would be. 

He still didn’t understand what Malakai was up to. Not even a month ago he was bullying Orha every time they encountered each other—on campus and off. But this change, the complete turn around, struck him as more than a little off. Malakai had been following Orha around, finding excuses to show up at places he knew he would be. He’d given Orha gifts. They were small at first, but the price and sizes grew exponentially. This book was the most expensive yet. Last time he’d priced it, it’d been almost $200. Way over his budget. And Malakai simply threw his money away to buy it for Orha? Something didn’t add up.

What the hell was Malakai planning? What angle was he working? What purpose did being nice to him serve? The more he approached him, the less Orha trusted him, but he was too scared to outright reject his advances. The last thing he wanted was for Malakai to bully him again. He’d already suffered enough from that.

“Fine,” Orha replied, tucking the book to his chest with the others. “Thanks, I guess.”

“So,” Malakai began, taking a step closer and pinching a lock of Orha’s hair between his fingers. “There’s a party tonight at my place. You should come.”

Too close. Orha flinched and pulled away—out of reach from Malakai’s greedy grasp. His stomach twisted in a sick knot. “Sorry, I’m busy tonight.” No way in hell would he be caught dead at Malakai’s house. He turned and headed back down the sidewalk.

His heart dropped in his stomach as heard footsteps behind him.

“Are you busy with something? Or should I say someone?” Malakai asked as he matched Orha’s pace.

“What are you talking about?” he asked back, jaw set tight as he clutched his books to his chest.

“You’ve been hanging around that guy a lot. Akihiko.”

Orha’s back stiffened and his pointed ears flicked backwards, flattening against his head. He shot a glare Malakai’s direction, bristling. “What’s it to you?” The words were harsher than he’d wanted, but he couldn’t help it. Akihiko was a sensitive subject, and Orha didn’t like hearing his name on Malakai’s tongue.

“Just curious.” Malakai watched Orha, unabashedly staring, while Orha quickened his pace. “Haven’t seen you with anyone else lately.”

It was too much—too much to handle all at once. “I gotta go.” He cut across the street, a few cars slamming their breaks and cursing him out as he dashed in front of them. But the shortcut worked and Malakai didn’t bother crossing traffic to follow after him. He sighed in relief, but the anxious energy still hummed along his skin like electricity. He wanted to go home and relax.

As he left campus and crossed into the residential area on the outskirts of the university, a buzzing in his pocket distracted him from his thoughts. Pulling out his phone, his dark blue eyes widened at the name on the screen—Akihiko.

His pace slowed as he unlocked the screen and read over the text.

Aki—Dinner tonight?

It was so casual, the way he asked; subtly comfortable in a way that Orha wished he could say was mutual. The realization struck him, that he had been spending more time with Akihiko than he’d thought, if he could message Orha so easily. It meant that Malakai had been right in his observations, as much as he despised that knowledge.

Still. Still. It didn’t mean anything. In spite of Orha’s original concerns, Akihiko was kind to him. Too kind, really. More kind that he deserved. Like a real boyfriend.

But they weren’t boyfriends. Not really. Or at least, they’d never labeled it. They simply spent time together—some of it platonic, some of it intimate. Whatever they had, it worked, and Orha didn’t dare disturb the balance they’d found in each other. If it was one thing he knew for sure, asking too much in a relationship doomed it to fail. For once, he’d like it to work out, if only for a little longer.

Orha typed back, fingers quick on the screen.

Orha—Pass tonight. Not feeling well.

Little dots popped up on the screen, and Orha waited for Akihiko’s message as he walked.

Aki—Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.

As much as dinner with Akihiko sounded great, Orha didn’t think he could handle it. Not tonight, at least. He’d been feeling strange all day and the run-in with Malakai knocked him off his feet. What he needed was a nap—a nice long nap so he could forget Malakai and Akihiko and his stupid, turbulent emotions. Besides, he needed rest. The last thing he wanted was to catch a cold because he was stressed.

Orha shoved the phone back into his pants and sighed. Tomorrow. He would worry about it all tomorrow. He just needed to get home tonight and rest. 

As that thought entered his mind, he felt the plink of a raindrop on his cheek. Looking up, he watched the sky turn dark, clouds churning in the sky with ill intent. Another drop hit his face—and another and another. 

“Shit,” he grumbled, picking up the pace. Only a few blocks remained until he was home, but before he could curse himself out for forgetting an umbrella, the sky opened up and the deluge hit. 

Tucking his books close to his chest to protect them from the rain, Orha broke out into a sprint. As he ran, water collected into puddles on the sidewalk and splashed against his legs with each step. He couldn’t escape the rain—it permeated everything as it poured from the sky in violent sheets. With his heart pounding in his chest, he hurried down the street in hopes of keeping his books dry in the downpour. As he neared the end of the block, he spotted his house and darted to the door, fumbling with his keys to get indoors. 

After bolting inside and slamming the door shut behind him, Orha sighed in relief. Water dripped down his face, soaking his dark hair and leaving drenched clothes stuck to wet skin. He set his books down on the coffee table in the living room. They weren’t as waterlogged as he’d feared—just a bit of wetness along the top edges. They would dry easy enough. 

As he spread them out on the table, his eyes landed on the history book Malakai had given him and his stomach clenched unpleasantly. He might have wanted the book, but he didn’t want it if it came from his ex. Maybe he could sell it online or something. It would be better than keeping it around and reminding him of what had been.

Unable to bear looking at the book any longer, Orha trudged to his bedroom, water dripping everywhere. He would clean up later, but for now, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep. Stripping out of his sopping wet clothes, Orha dropped each item to the floor without care. Once he was down to his boxers, he slipped into bed and covered himself with the blankets. His skin was clammy and cold from the sudden shower, but the softness of his sheets and pillows drained the tension from his body. Even with wet hair, he felt better.

Before he could muse any longer on why he was so tired and drained, he drifted off to blissful unconsciousness. 

xXxXxXx

Bam! Bam! Bam! 

Orha’s nose twitched. He groaned pulling the blankets over his head to block the noise. He didn’t want to get up—not yet. His body ached and burned, as if he’d ran a marathon and all he wanted to do was keep sleeping. 

Bam! Bam!

“Ugh.” Orha rolled to his back, eyes cracking open to stare up at the ceiling. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep, but the rain hadn’t stopped and it was dark. 

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

A frown spread over his lips, tugging at the corners, and this time, he let out an angry snarl. Who the hell was banging on his door? “Just go away,” he growled, too weak for whoever was at the door to hear. He still felt off—not quite right inside—and the constant pounding was giving him a headache. The noise continued, and Orha huffed. “Fine, asshole! I’m coming!” Throwing back the blankets, he ambled to his feet—and fell to the floor. 

With a moan more wanton than pained, he squeezed his eyes shut and caught his breath. He was hard—so painfully hard. The damned knocking had been so annoying he’d completely missed it. But after failing to stand and nearly falling flat on his face, he realized what had been off all day.

Orha had started his heat. 

“Shit. Fucking—ugh.” Cursing to himself as he crawled on the floor, he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and pulled them on in the hopes of hiding his massive erection. However, the fabric tented over the bulge, leaving his state even more obvious than before. He couldn’t hide it, or his other symptoms. With his fevered skin, blown pupils, and short breath, anyone would be able to see his state. Not to mention the smell…

The sudden and gnawing urge to jerk off over took him, but he shook his head and tried to focus. He had to get rid of whoever was on his porch first, then he could take to his...needs. 

Stumbling through the house and growling under his breath, he stomped towards the front door in nothing but a flimsy pair of sweatpants. The knocking persisted. Orha yanked the door open and took a breath to shout at the person who had rudely jolted him out of his peaceful sleep—

Only to deflate completely as he recognized the handsome countenance staring wide-eyed at him. “Aki?” he asked, confusion heavy in his voice. 

Akihiko looked like the proverbial deer in headlights. He stood there, one hand still raised to knock on the door and the other cupping a small plastic container to his side. “Oh—Sorry. Were you sleeping? I was starting to get worried because you didn’t answer your phone.”

“I—uh—” Orha felt his mouth go dry as he looked at Akihiko, his hair and clothes wet from the pouring rain. “I didn’t hear it.” His stomach clenched, a twang of hunger humming through his veins. He knew it was the heat talking, his brain addled with hormones, but in that moment, he’d never wanted Akihiko more. 

Akihiko tensed as Orha watched him, and handed him the container. “You said you weren’t feeling well, so I brought you some soup.” He took a long breath, and Orha knew he could smell the pheromones he gave off. There was no way to hide the scent, not now. “But I guess you’re not that kind of sick.” 

“Yeah...” Orha swallowed thickly, heart hammering in his chest like a drum. He barely made out Akihiko’s words, as if cotton were shoved in his ears. His boxers were too tight, and he felt hot and sticky all over. He wanted them off. He wanted everything off of him right then, but he couldn’t stop staring at Akihiko.

Weakly, he grabbed the container, the warm plastic pleasant against his palms. He leaned in closer to Akihiko, swaying on his feet as he breathed in his scent. He smelled like the fresh rain that hadn’t stopped for hours and sandalwood. Heady, earthy. Masculine and strong. Just what Orha was craving. Just what he needed. “Thanks,” he said as an afterthought, moving closer still. Reaching out, he touched Akihiko’s hip, fingers tucking into the waistband of his pants.

Realizing the situation they were in, Akihiko took a step back, but didn’t push Orha away. “Uh, maybe I should go? You seem a bit out of it and—”

“No—” Orha tightened his grip and pulled Akihiko back towards him, practically dragging him into the house. “Stay, please? I want you to stay.”

A torn look crossed Akihiko’s face as he hesitated. Resting his hand against over Orha’s as it clung to his hip, he let out a shuddered breath. Orha’s scent had to have been strong by then, and the longer Akihiko lingered, the harder it would be to leave. Even in his heat haze, Orha could see the thoughts and emotions passing over his face, struggling to decide on the best course of action.

But Orha saw him crumble, and his heart skipped a beat as their eyes met. Akihiko raised his free hand to cup the side of his face. His palm felt so cool in comparison to his heated, flushed skin. “…Are you sure? You’re not just saying this because you’re in heat and—”

“I’m sure,” Orha interrupted, pulling him closer. “I don’t want to be alone tonight—I can’t.” Without further elaborations, he leaned in and captured Akihiko’s lips in an excited kiss, devouring his mouth with vigor.

Moaning into the kiss, Akihiko wrapped his arms around his waist and held him close. He tightened his grip on Orha as his tongue slipped into his mouth. It only lasted a few seconds, that hungry, mutual desire, before he released Orha’s lips. “Okay. Okay, I’ll stay,” he whispered back, his lips brushing against Orha’s as he spoke.

Orha whined, a noise he loathed to make at any other time. But it was his heat—he allowed himself to indulge in the… neediness of it all. Besides, he doubted Akihiko minded. If the stiffness pressing into Orha’s hip was any indication, Akihiko liked it a little too much.

Akihiko kicked the door shut behind him and kissed Orha again, one hand pressed against his jaw to tip his chin back, as if he were drinking down his kisses like a fine wine. Orha’s grip on the container of soup fumbled, but he curled it closer to his body to steady it. A sweet, desperate moan rumbled in his chest and he went limp in Akihiko’s arms.

“Aki, please,” Orha mumbled against his lips. He dug his fingers harder into the hem of Akihiko’s pants and rutted sloppily against his hip.

“Yes, yes—of course.” He grabbed the soup from Orha’s hand and set it on the coffee table, nearly knocking it over in the process. But it didn’t matter—not to either of them. All that mattered was getting to the bedroom as fast as possible. Everything else could wait.

They stumbled their way to the bedroom, tripping over each other’s feet while kissing and groping. Orha panted into Akihiko’s neck, his breath hot against his skin as he dug his nails into his back. As they reached the threshold, Akihiko lost his patience with their slow pace and picked Orha up—holding his thighs as he lifted him. Orha’s legs wrapped around his waist, ankles crossing at the small of his back. His head spun as Akihiko carried him and he buried his nose in his soft, white hair. Heats made him do strange things, but even with a clear head, he couldn’t get enough of Akihiko’s scent. He took a deep breath to pull the smell into his lungs, and tightened his grip.

His scent was divine, but before Orha could muse on that indulgence any longer, his back hit the mattress and forced him to expel the sweet smell. He didn’t have time to complain before Akihiko’s lips were on his once more, devouring his mouth like it was his last meal. Akihiko’s legs pressed between Orha’s, forcing them open to rut against his stiff erection. 

“Nnnn...” Orha’s hips rocked up against Akihiko’s, adding to the delightful friction and pressure between them as he sucked on his lover’s lower lip. It was too hot, hotter than only a few minutes ago, and sweat beaded along his neck and back, perspiration dotting his skin in between the raised hairs. He shivered, not from the temperature, but from the friction between them. His cock was so hard now, he felt like he might burst from the pressure. 

It was stupid to forget about his heat—Orha knew it. But he had little time to berate himself when Akihiko’s tongue was down his throat and his cock was nestled firmly against Orha’s own. He squirmed under the attention, desperate and hungry for more. 

A rough thrust knocked Orha back, their lips parting with a gasp. Moaning, he tugged at Akihiko’s shirt, weakly grasping at the fabric as he attempted to pull it off. “Too hot, Aki,” he mumbled, squirming under Akihiko’s heavier body. 

Sitting up, Akihiko raked a hand through his white hair, the messy strands tangling in his fingers. He gazed down at Orha with lust in his blue eyes, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Their eyes met for only a second, fire burning bright in them. Before Orha could speak again in the hope of hurrying him along, Akihiko grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it off. Orha watched in awe as he revealed his chest, sweat already glistening against his skin in the dim light of the bedroom. It was a sight he’d seen numerous times before, but it never failed to send a jolt of desire deep in the pit of his stomach. 

Akihiko’s fingers curled into the flimsy fabric of Orha’s sweatpants, tugging them and his underwear down his thighs in one quick motion. His stiff prick bounced against his stomach in anticipation and Orha moaned as Akihiko stripped him. Tossing his head back and forth against the pillows, he grabbed the loose sheets under him. The slightest contact against his cock was torture. The reddened head leaked precum like a faucet, dribbling over his stomach and smearing across his skin. He watched impatiently as his clothes were tossed to the floor and Akihiko rid himself of his own jeans. 

He needed Akihiko. He needed him bad.

As if hearing the silent plea, Akihiko leaned in and kissed Orha again, slipping his tongue into his mouth. Without the frustrating barrier of clothing between them, Orha felt everything. Akihiko’s muscles flexing, the sweat sticking to his skin, the heavy heat between his legs as it dug into Orha’s stomach. Now that—that was what he wanted most, what his body craved. 

Sliding a hand between them, Orha grabbed Akihiko’s cock. He growled low in the back of his throat, starving for the contact, and stroked him with greedy fingers as he rutted against his hip. The touch left Akihiko moaning in his mouth, hips arching into the contact, and Orha’s heart leapt in his throat. Akihiko was so sensitive to his touch... It made him want to please him more, to see what sweet noises he could pull from his rumbling chest. But before he put his plan to action, Akihiko broke their kiss. 

“Nnnn, Aki...?” he groaned out, dizzy from the heated kisses and his body’s soaring temperature. 

Akihiko didn’t answer. Instead, he kissed his way down Orha’s neck, each press of his lips leaving a heated trail on his skin. Orha panted as he stared up at the ceiling, squirming under the too-soft touch. “Aki—Aki, more… Please, more…” he begged, ears flattening against his head and tail flicking behind him as he struggled to find more friction between them.

Each nip and caress of his tongue on Orha’s skin left him writhing under Akihiko’s touch. He continued down his chest, stopping at Orha’s nipples and lovingly teasing them both with his lips and teeth. The gentle brush of his tongue over the hardened nubs sent shivers of desire up and down Orha’s spine. He couldn’t take much more of Akihiko’s teasing, not when he was this worked up.

Orha’s cock dripped precum between them, balls heavy and tight with need. As Akihiko ceased his torturous admiration of Orha’s nipples, he moved lower, kissing over his taut stomach. With one hand on his hip to keep Orha steady and the other planted on the mattress to keep himself upright, Akihiko settled between his legs, breath blowing across the red and sensitive skin of Orha’s dick.

“Aaa,” Orha whined, hips arching up in a desperate bid for contact. “Aki, please.”

“Hush,” Akihiko whispered, his voice hoarse and deep. But even as he chastised Orha’s enthusiasm, he smoothed his hand up his shaft, thumbing over the slit and smearing precum over his fingers. The touch did nothing to satiate the lust building in Orha’s guts, and he moaned like a wanton whore.

More. He wanted more. 

Akihiko watched as Orha writhed under him, hands balled into fists and nails digging into the sheets underneath. He continued to rub at his stiff length, fingers slowly moving along the shaft and spreading precum across hardened flesh, all while ignoring his own growing arousal between his legs. Orha panted and whined, staring back at him with half-lidded eyes. 

Smirking, Akihiko pressed his thumb over Orha’s leaking slit. “Be a good Kitten and I promise I’ll make you cum.” 

Orha could do nothing but moan and tremble under the teasing touch. 

Taking the lack of answer as submission, he leaned down and wrapped his lips around Orha’s cock. The wet heat of his mouth had Orha crying out, and he ripped a hand from the bedsheets, stuffing it in his mouth to keep the worst of his desperate noises from crawling out of his throat. Akihiko’s lips and tongue were talented things, as he’d learned in their dalliances over the past month or so.

Akihiko smoothed his lips over the shaft, dipping down until he buried his nose in the coarse hair at the base. Flattening his tongue along the underside, he hummed against the stiff flesh, gently sucking and bobbing his head. With his lips stretched around Orha’s needy girth, he grabbed his hips, keeping him pinned to the bed and unable to thrust up for more deliciously hot friction. 

“Aki...Aki, please...” he begged, head tossing against the pillows. The heat grew low in his belly, like the tightening of a rubber band. Further and further it stretched, taut and tense. Orha’s breath came in hitched gasps as the feeling grew in his guts. He wouldn’t make it much longer, not with Akihiko working him over with his perfect tongue and perfect lips. Sweat prickled along his neck and forehead, and the sounds of his own stilted breaths were muffled as the tension in his body grew, blood pounding in his ears. 

With a heady sigh, Akihiko pulled back, mouth sliding over Orha’s cock until only the tip remained snug between his lips. He flicked his tongue back and forth against the dripping slit, sucking the head like the sweetest lollipop.

Orha groaned, eyes rolling back in his head as his hips bucked—struggling for more contact, more heat. But Akihiko’s grip stayed strong, and he kept Orha pinned to the mattress. 

“I’m gonna—Aki, I’m gonna—” Orha rambled, back arching off the bed as that tension in his belly pulled tighter, tighter, tighter—and snapped. 

Orha came with a moan, fast and hard. It was almost painful as his body seized up in pleasure, tight and taut as he spilled himself down Akihiko’s willing throat. Cum and spit collected at the corners of his mouth as he eased Orha though his orgasm, cheeks flushed and lips nearly bruised for the effort. When Orha finished, spent dick twitching pathetically against his tongue, Akihiko finally let him free. 

Orha panted, blue eyes transfixed on the ceiling as he struggled to breathe, to feel anything but the numbing pleasure tingling along every inch of skin. His head spun from the endorphins swimming in his veins, leaving him drowsy. But as the effects of his orgasm faded, his skin refused to cool down. He felt hotter than before and just as hungry—ready to swap skin once again. His cock twitched excitedly against his stomach, slowly growing hard. He hated his heat, hated how desperate and pathetic it made him. But, if nothing else, it was nice to share it with someone he could trust. 

“That was good, Kitten.” Akihiko ran his hand along Orha’s jaw, fingertips brushing sweaty skin. He moved slowly, reaching for the nightstand where he knew Orha kept his more...intimate items. “Now, stay put and I’ll make you feel even better.”

“Yes,” Orha whispered, voice hoarse from moaning and panting. He struggled to swallow, throat parched and mouth dry, but did as Akihiko asked. Turning his head to the side, Orha watched him pull open the nightstand drawer and rifle through the contents. 

Orha kept a few little playthings in that drawer, as well as necessities. Condoms and lubricant were a must, but he also needed things to keep him occupied when no one else was around to help him through his heats. Dildos and vibrators of various sizes were tucked away for when he needed something to scratch that itch deep inside him. It was never as nice as the warmth of another person, but it would do in a pinch.

He wondered for a long moment if Akihiko would grab one to use on him—just to torture him a little longer. There were even a few cock rings and other devices they could use to drive each other mad with want before coming down from this heat addled state. But before he could voice his question, Akihiko closed the drawer, only taking a small bottle of lubricant. 

Orha’s excitement doubled as he watched Akihiko drizzle the lubricant over his fingers, the large digits glistening in the dim light of his bedroom. His breath caught in his throat, eyes following Akihiko’s movements as his fingers slipped down between his legs to open him with slow, purposeful prodding. He felt the pressure against his hole, slick and tight, then spread his legs wider with a low moan.

Grinning, Akihiko leaned down closer. He continued to work into Orha’s ass, the ring of muscle flexing around his finger as he slipped in deeper. As he reached knuckle-deep, he licked along the underside of Orha’s stirring cock, the sensitive flesh twitching with excitement.

One finger wasn’t enough to satiate Orha, but it was enough to remind him of what he really wanted—what he craved.  “Please…” he begged, hips rocking under Akihiko. “More, please…”

“You’re needy tonight, Kitten,” Akihiko replied, licking at the head of his cock again. Orha might have already cum once, but his body was ready again—prick stiff and leaking precum without shame.

“Yes,” Orha whined, unable to deny it with how soft and pliant his body became under Akihiko’s touch. The heat had drawn out his needy side, the side of him that craved attention and soft touches and intimacy. He might have tried to deny it on any other day, but it was still a part of him, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

Akihiko hummed, breath blowing against Orha’s slick flesh. “I like it,” he mumbled, slipping a second finger into Orha’s ass.

“Aaa…” Orha’s back arched, toes curling as he was stretched wider. It still wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, but he would take what he could get.

A laugh bubbled up in Akihiko’s throat. Without a word, he slipped Orha’s cock back into his mouth and sucked him down to the hilt. The wet heat of his lips and tongue combined with the pressure of his fingers up Orha’s ass was almost enough to have him cumming a second time. Luckily, his first orgasm had dulled his need just enough to keep him riding the pleasure longer.

Two fingers slid in and out of Orha’s body, dragging along his flesh and pulling hungry noises from his lips. Akihiko scissored his fingers in Orha, moving them back and forth and in and out with slow, methodical movements. He stretched and worked his way deeper, all while lavishing Orha’s cock with attention. It was almost too much for Orha to bear. Almost.

Just as he was on the cusp of cumming a second time, Akihiko pulled his fingers out. The empty feeling dragged a whine from Orha’s throat, quiet and desperate. He closed his eyes and twisted against the bedsheets, still hard and hungry for attention. Akihiko lavished Orha’s needy prick with one last teasing suck before letting it drop from between his lips.

Chest heaving, Orha forced his eyes open and watched Akihiko as he smoothed lubricant over his stiff cock. It was then that he remembered Akihiko hadn’t touched himself in the whole time they’d been in bed—not once. His cock was red and hard, more than Orha’s own. The thought sent a shot of guilt through his chest, guilt and desire to even things out between them.

Akihiko lined himself up against Orha’s puckered and slick entrance, grabbing his hips and pulling their bodies closer together. But before he could breach the ring of muscle, Orha sprang into action.

He grabbed Akihiko’s shoulders pushing him to the side and straddling his hips as he pinned him to the bed. Akihiko grunted in surprise, eyes wide as he stared up at Orha. He’d been so pliant and submissive earlier that Akihiko hadn’t expected the sudden change in energy between them.

“Orha?” he asked, one hand sliding up his bare stomach, tentative and gentle in its touch.

“Let me,” Orha mumbled, still dizzy and disoriented from his heat. Sweat dribbled down his neck as he shifted his position, grabbing Akihiko’s dick in one hand and steadying himself on the bed with the other. “I want to—” As he spoke, he sank down onto Akihiko’s slick cock, breath catching in his throat and a moan spilling past his lips. He sat down slowly, taking him all in until he bottomed out, ass flush against Akihiko’s hips.

The pressure and the heat—it was all so much. Too much. Orha felt the delicious tightness building in his abdomen as Akihiko’s cock stretched him wide. He wanted to ride him until he couldn’t feel his legs anymore, until he was numb from the pleasure. But before he could move or voice his desires, Akihiko moaned and squeezed Orha’s hips, rutting up into him with a shallow thrust. Orha’s back stiffened as Akihiko’s cock brushed that sweet spot deep inside him. That tiny motion pushed him off the edge a second time. With a weak moan, he came again, painting his stomach white with hot seed. His hips rocked against Akihiko’s, riding out the pleasure until he finished. Panting and flushed, he looked down at Akihiko’s hungry eyes.

“God, that was so hot,” Akihiko mumbled, fingers squeezing Orha’s sides with a bruising insistence. He took a long, shuddering breath, eyes half-lidded, and smoothed his thumbs over Orha’s hips, as if to apologize for grabbing him too roughly. He slipped one hand across Orha’s stomach, humming to himself as he slid it through the mess he’d made. “Kitten, do you wanna rest? I can take over again if you—”

Orha didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence. Gathering what strength he had left in his limp limbs, he forced himself upright. Without hesitation, he pulled his hips up and thrust himself back down, impaling himself on Akihiko’s cock. The rough thrust left them both groaning in pleasure, backs arched and muscles tight. But Orha didn’t stop with just one thrust. He went again and again and again, bouncing up and down on Akihiko’s hips with abandon.

“Aki. Aki. Aki.” He repeated his name like a mantra, body oversensitive and yet still wanting more. His cock was half-hard already, a third orgasm quickly budding in his abdomen. Orha had never had a heat this intense before—never. Every brush of Akihiko against him, inside and out, turned his guts to goo.

Growling in excitement, Akihiko rocked his hips upward, timing it with Orha’s own thrusts to dive deep inside him with each pass. They worked in tandem, quickly building up the friction between them. Orha whimpered with each thrust, his body sore and sensitive from the torturous teasing Akihiko had already put him through. Having his prostate slammed into over and over again only left him hungrier for another orgasm.

Leaning forward, Orha planted his hands on Akihiko’s shoulders, fingers digging into his flesh as he rocked himself harder onto his cock. The slight change of angle made it so each thrust hit Orha’s sweet spot head on. He gasped with each intrusion, but only rutted faster and faster against Akihiko. His spent and sore dick strained against their stomachs, rubbing raw between them.

Akihiko moaned, nails leaving half-circle marks on Orha’s thighs. “Shit, I’m—I’m close. Orha, I’m so close—” His eyes screwed shut, head tipped back in pleasure as he pumped his hips faster, filling Orha deeper and deeper with each pass.

“Yes, Aki, yes—” Orha’s thrusts grew frantic, grinding himself onto Akihiko’s stiff rod with fervor. Hearing his partner’s excited cries pushed him to continue, past the point of caring how sore his body was or how much it would hurt tomorrow. He wanted this—he needed it. The feeling of Akihiko deep inside him, the pressure of his body opening up to accommodate another, the tension in his muscles, the furious beating of his heart, the violent tremors running along his limbs. He needed all of it.

Then, as Orha worked himself harder than before, he felt Akihiko stiffen under his body and a rush of heat fill his backside. Akihiko groaned and came into Orha’s ass without warning. The heat and the wet squelching sound as cum slipped down to mess the backs of Orha’s thighs was enough to send him into his third completion of the night. As he rocked down one last time, he came again—a weak stream of white spurting across his abdomen and mingling with the crusted cum already painting his skin. When the tremors subsided, he collapsed against Akihiko’s chest and began purring.

Akihiko wrapped his arms around Orha, holding him close as their bodies slowly cooled in the damp air of the bedroom. “You okay?” he asked, voice low and winded.

“Mm,” Orha hummed, unable to keep his eyes open. Contented purrs rumbled in his chest as he snuggled up to Akihiko. Cum messed his stomach and inner thighs, but he was too tired to do anything about it. He couldn’t even be bothered to uncouple himself from Akihiko, his lover’s slowly softening cock still deep inside him.

Akihiko continued to rub his back, fingers lazily drawing circles along sweaty skin. When his breaths evened out, he shifted to the side and rolled Orha onto the bed. Orha groaned in protest, grabbing his arm before he could completely part from him.

“Don’t go,” Orha whispered, clinging to him as best he could for how exhausted he was.

Hesitating, Akihiko brushed a hand over Orha’s flushed forehead. “I just thought you’d be more comfortable on the bed than on me.”

Orha couldn’t argue the point, but his heat-addled mind still demanded the closeness. He relaxed against the bedding, but didn’t let go of Akihiko’s arm. “Don’t go,” he repeated, softer this time.

Akihiko smiled and stretched out next to Orha. He pulled the dirty blankets over their sweaty bodies and wrapped an arm around Orha once more. “Okay. I won’t. I promise.”

The warmth and closeness drew Orha in like a moth to a flame. Resting his head against Akihiko’s chest, he continued to purr like contented kitten. As he slowly succumbed to sleep, heat satiated for the moment, he hoped Akihiko would keep his promise.

END