#august of hot girl summer here we fucking go baby!!!

[roosterforme]

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 19 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Your wedding week is here, and you decide to give Bradley another one of his gifts early. In return, he fulfills a fantasy for you. When you host your parents and all of those closest to you for Thanksgiving dinner, it really sets in for Bradley that this is what the rest of his life is going to be like.

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff, and swearing

Length: 4400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

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When Maverick cornered him at the end of the day on Monday, Bradley eyed him warily. "Don't tell me you're bringing me more papers."

Maverick shook his head and laughed. "No. Not papers. But I need everyone to complete their flight evaluation paperwork during the first week of December."

Bradley's eyes went wide. He would be in Hawaii with you. Without completed paperwork, he could end up being grounded. "Shit. Can you push it later into the month for me?"

"No. But I set you up in one of the classrooms now to take care of it."

Bradley groaned. He promised you that he would be home to help you finalize everything on the wedding checklist tonight, but this issue could literally prevent him from getting a paycheck later.

"Fuck. Okay, fine," Bradley told Mav. "Thanks for making sure I got it done in time." Bradley texted you a quick explanation while he strolled to Classroom 1 so he could get started, because this would take him about two hours. 

Baby Girl Bradshaw: Take your time, Roo. But let me know before you head home, okay? I might need you to stop at the store.

At least you weren't upset. You probably didn't really need his help with the checklist, but he wanted to be there with you anyway. 

He settled in and got to work, needing to log into various sites on his phone to pull up his credentials for verification. After two hours, he was finally done, but his phone battery was almost dead. 

He sent you a quick text saying he was leaving shortly to find out what you needed from the store, and you wrote back immediately.

Baby Girl Bradshaw: Remember where we first met? Meet me there.

Bradley would remember until his dying day that he first set eyes on you last year on August 14th just before 9 o'clock in the morning. In Classroom 8. That was where you first spoke to each other. That was where he got to hear you lecturing them on software protocols. That was where he started to fall for you. 

He was immediately rushing out of Classroom 1 and heading down the long corridor. The building was mostly deserted now that it was after dinnertime, and most of the lights had been dimmed. But when he pushed the last door open, you were perched on the edge of the desk, and Bradley could still perfectly picture how you'd looked up at the podium in your khaki uniform last summer. 

But right now, you were wearing the red dress that you wore on your first date, when he had taken you to the hot sauce restaurant and silent disco in Del Mar. You had on matching red lipstick, and you had selected red polish when you got your nails done the other day.

Bradley was frozen in the doorway, looking at you as you smiled at him. "Close the door and take a seat, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw," you instructed with a grin. 

He closed the door and headed for the seat in the first row, right in front of you. "I thought you were at home, Sweetheart."

"I was," you informed him, sliding off the desk and taking the three steps until you were in Bradley's lap. "Then I thought I would come back to base and give you one of your remaining wedding gifts here." You kissed him softly, your lips barely brushing his. He let one hand come up to the back of your neck to get a deeper kiss, not caring about getting your lipstick on his mouth. 

"What's my wedding gift?" he asked before dipping his lips down to your neck. "Getting to look at you in the dress you wore on our first date?"

You laughed at that and started to slide out of his grasp. Bradley tried to keep you on his lap, but you managed to slide down so you were kneeling on the floor between his legs with your hands resting on his khaki covered thighs. He was sure his eyes were bugging out.

"No. I'd let you look at me in this dress anytime, Roo. When I asked some of the guys what they would most like to get as a wedding gift from their soon to be wife, they seemed to universally agree that a blowjob was the way to go."

He briefly tipped his head back and groaned at the ceiling when your hands started to slide up his uniform pants. When you popped open his button and eased the zipper down, Bradley kept his eyes on yours. His hard dick sprang free when you pulled his pants and underwear down a little bit, and you squealed in delight. A small part of Bradley really loved that the guys all knew you were going to suck his dick for him, that you did it all the time.

"You want it sloppy, Roo?" you asked sweetly, licking your bright red lips. 

"God, yes," he groaned, his eyes drifting closed as you wrapped your small hand around him and grazed his tip with your lips. "Please."

You just moaned in response, and now Bradley was wishing he'd taken a second to lock the door. "Anyone could walk in, Sweetheart," he told you, stroking your perfect cheek with his thumb while you kissed along his length. 

"I know," you told him before swirling your tongue around his head and making him groan. "That's why I wanted to do it here."

You were filthy in the best way, and you were going to be his wife. "Everything you do turns me on. You know that? Everything."

You smiled up at him like he was single handedly responsible for all of the happiness in this world, and then you took the tip of his cock between your perfect, red lips.

Every inch of him was treated the the feel of your lips and your tongue as you sucked on him and took him deep. Bradley watched you take him until you were gagging, squeezing him with your throat until your eyes started to water. 

"Fuck, Baby Girl," he growled, eyeing the red lipstick smears along the base of his cock as you pulled him out of your mouth. He watched you open your mouth wide and run his tip along your lips before letting him rest on your velvety tongue. "You're perfect," he praised, running his fingers along your neck. You licked and sucked just the tip of him while you played with his balls. He could already feel the pressure building, and he knew what you were capable of. 

"You like that, Daddy?" you asked softly, stroking your fingers along his balls and nuzzling him with your face.

"You fucking know I do." And then his head tipped back again as you took his length deep again, and he felt the sensation through his entire body. You were sucking on him so well, as he palmed the back of your head, encouraging you to keep him in your heavenly mouth. 

Bradley watched your half lidded eyes drift closed briefly as you gagged on him. And then you were sucking along his length before taking him deep again. Every time he bottomed out, he could feel the pressure of his orgasm building. You bobbed on his cock, humming and gasping as you picked up speed, and Bradley watched your saliva drip onto his khaki pants. 

When you pulled him out with a loud pop, he growled your name, and your wide eyes met his. Then Bradley watched you lick along his balls and suck on him there while stroking his cock with your hands. 

"Baby Girl," he groaned. You had lipstick smeared on your face, and Bradley had never seen anything prettier than you cradling his balls and sucking on his dick. 

The wet sounds as you hollowed your cheeks and bobbed faster on his length had him thrusting into you. You moaned, eyes wide as he hit the back of your throat. You popped him out again, strands of saliva falling from those red lips as you took a deep breath before taking him to the hilt again.

Bradley swiped away the tears from your cheeks before digging his fingers into your scalp a little rough. "I'm close, Sweetheart," he murmured, teeth gritted in pleasure. 

You just grinned around his cock and hollowed your cheeks, sucking on him until he was moaning way too loud. His balls were tense, ready to spill into your mouth, and then you pulled him out one last time. Bradley watched his cum paint your lips and tongue as you gasped and squeaked in delight. You swallowed him down in gulps, and his cum ran down your chin, mixing with your saliva. Your eyes were needy as you delicately licked and sucked every drop as it beaded out of him until Bradley watched you just kissing along his sensitive tip again.

"I love you," he promised, swiping his fingers through his cum on your chin and feeding it to you. As you licked his fingers clean, Bradley caught his breath. The front of his uniform pants was adorned with cum, saliva, and red lipstick smudges. It was almost enough to make him hard again. 

After you tucked him back into his boxer briefs, you climbed back onto his lap. Bradley kissed you and licked your lips clean. "Mmm," you moaned. "Let's go home so I can feed you dinner." 

"Do you still need me to stop at the store?" he asked as you pulled him to his feet and zipped his pants. 

"No, I took care of it. Just wanted to get ice cream to go with the chocolate chip cookies I made."

Bradley laced his fingers through yours and kissed your ring. "For ice cream sandwiches? Are you purposely reminding me of all the things you did when we were dating that made me crazy for you?"

"Maybe," you said with a smirk.

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

"We're gonna be late," Bradley called for the third time. You just rolled your eyes in the bathroom mirror. 

"Their flight doesn't even land for two more hours."

Then he appeared in the bathroom doorway with Tramp in his arms. "If you want to have time to go to the Hard Deck for a beer first, we need to leave. You look beautiful. You look perfect. Let's go."

You capped your mascara. "Fine." You had been subtly trying to make sure nobody was making plans for Friday afternoon without actually giving away any wedding information. You were getting really antsy that one of them wouldn't be there, so giving them one final reminder today would be a good idea. "I can't believe tomorrow is Thanksgiving. And then our wedding. Are we out of our minds? Planning it the way we did?"

"Nah," Bradley replied with a crooked grin. "The only thing that's bothering me is that I know for a fact that the caterers won't make the Marry Me Rooster as good as you do."

You started laughing as you grabbed a denim jacket to wear over your dress and followed him out to the driveway. "Well if that's your biggest concern, then I'm sure Friday will be a lovely day for you."

Bradley opened the passenger door of the Bronco and buckled you in. "It's going to be the best day of my life," he promised with a kiss.

When you got to the Hard Deck, you could tell you were annoying all of the aviators at this point. And when you mentioned one more time that you were hoping everyone could make it 'to hang out on Friday', they all groaned.

"Angel, yes. For the millionth time, we will be there," Jake drawled as he took a shot at the pool table. You examined his forehead where he had a scar from his deployment. He must have had the stitches removed today. 

"I'm not even talking to you. I don't trust you anymore after how much you let me drink at the club."

"Here," Bradley mumbled, nudging a beer into your hand when he returned from the bar. He kissed your cheek before taking the pool cue Phoenix held out for him. You heard him double and triple checking with her that she was going to stick to the plans for Friday. You didn't even want to think about how shitty Bradley would feel if his best friend wasn't at his wedding. 

"Hey, Jake?" you asked quietly.

"Angel?"

"Can I borrow your keychain? The one with the Super Hornet?"

He dug his keys out of his pocket and unclipped the beat up metal keychain that you always thought was so cool. "You thinking about getting one for Rooster?"

"Yeah," you lied smoothly. "I'm going to look for one online. I'll give it back in a few days."

You sat quietly with Bob and talked about plans for Christmas while Bradley played pool. He kept stealing little glances in your direction, and it made you smile every time. And then he started grinning, too. Then it struck you; this would be your very last time hanging out at the Hard Deck before you were married. 

So much had happened here. You remembered which stool you were sitting on when Bradley initiated that first, flirtatious conversation with you by knocking your beer all over your lap. And you kept a little mental catalog of all the songs he had ever played for you on that old, out of tune piano. 

"I love you," he whispered against your lips while he waited for Phoenix to take her turn. 

You grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him close. "Next time we hang out at the Hard Deck with everyone, we will be married."

He rested his forehead to yours and smiled against your lips. "Less than two days," he whispered, running his hands along your hips and waist. "Then I'm yours, for real. Like actually a family."

You glanced at everyone playing pool and Bob eating his peanuts. "We have a huge family, Roo."

"You're right," he said with a chuckle, kissing your nose.

Then you licked his bottom lip gently, and Bradley's demeanor immediately changed. You felt his hands tighten on your waist, drawing you closer to his warm body as he hummed. When his hands found their way to your lower back you nibbled on his lip before licking him again. 

"Sweetheart." His voice had a tone of warning behind it, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't go right to your core. 

"Yes, Daddy?" you replied, not even trying to be quiet. The fabric of your dress was bunched up in his hands, and his brown eyes dipped down to look at your lips. 

"If you want Daddy, just say the words."

You licked your lips and said, "I want my Daddy."

Bradley took your half empty bottle of beer and set it down along with his empty one. With one hand pressed firmly to your lower back, he ushered you past the pool table. "Gotta get to the airport. See some of you tomorrow and all of you on Friday!" he called out, not even giving you a chance to say anything at all. 

You turned to look at him over your shoulder. "Where are we going?"

"The Bronco." His voice was commanding. He was in Daddy mode now, but you loved to give him an attitude. 

"No. Meet me in the sand. In our spot." You wove through the crowd ahead of him and out into the cool night air. There were some people out on the deck, talking and smoking, but you breezed right past them and ran down the side steps and into the darkness. 

A moment later, Bradley's heavy footfalls could be heard on the steps as well, and then he found you in the dim light filtering down from the deck, your back pressed to the wooden pillar. 

"Hi, Daddy," you whispered, and he reached right for the hem of your dress, pulling it up and yanking your underwear lower until the lace slipped down your legs and onto the tops of your boat shoes. 

"Hi, Baby Girl." His words were soft and raspy as his fingertips teased along your wet slit. 

"This is our spot." Your head tipped back against the pillar as he dipped his middle finger inside you. "But you've never fucked me here before." The voices and laughter above you on the deck had you more turned on than you'd like to admit. 

"I'm about to change that," he promised. "I'll fill you up all the way. Put a baby in you."

You groaned as he withdrew his finger and spun you around so you were facing the deck post, palms planted against it. You had a visceral reaction to the sound of him unzipping his jeans, and you were instantly panting and pushing your butt back toward him. 

"You're so fucking needy, Baby Girl. I love it." And then his big hands were up your dress, teasing along your ass before he guided himself inside you with a hiss. 

"Bradley!" 

"Quiet," he commanded, pumping into you. "I know you like this. Being out in the open. Listening to people up on the deck."

The noise that escaped you was something filthy that lived in the back of your throat. But he was driving you wild, because he was right. You loved that someone could look over the side of the deck and see Bradley fucking you. The idea that someone could hear your little whines or Bradley's grunts and come to investigate made your pussy wetter. 

"That's what Daddys do, Baby Girl," his voice was low and next to your ear. "They give you exactly what you want, fuck you in public when you need it. As long as you're so sweet to Daddy the rest of the time."

"Oh my god," you groaned. Bradley's words, and the feel of his fingers on your clit, and the slapping of his thighs against yours... it was all too much. "I'm so close," you whimpered. 

"I'll get you there, and then I'll take my share, too," he promised, and almost instantly you felt yourself clenching his cock with your pussy from the release of pleasure he caused with his fingers. You bucked your hips back against him, riding out your orgasm. 

And then, just like he promised, he took you by both hips, his fingers digging into you, and absolutely railed you. All you could do was grip the wooden post and hang on as he rocked into you, letting you feel every inch of him in your overstimulated pussy. 

You were whimpering as he growled your name, filling you up with cum. You could already feel the mess leaking out of you as he pushed your hair away from your neck and pressed his lips there. "I love you, Roo," you whispered, and he gently pulled you away from the deck post. 

He whispered in your ear how much he loved you and wanted to marry you while he eased himself out of your pussy, and you could feel the wetness on your legs. 

"Shit," he mumbled as he zipped up his pants. "We need to get to the airport to get your parents."

You giggled. "I'm a mess now, Roo."

"Yeah," he agreed, taking you by the hand. "And that's your fault. You always pull this Daddy stunt right before we have to go pick your parents up from the airport." He sounded firm, but when he led you into the lit up parking lot, you could see the satisfied smirk on his face.

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

Bradley and you had dropped your parents off at their expensive hotel last night, and he didn't regret a single penny he was spending. It had afforded him the ability to take a very leisurely bath with you, during which you and he sipped some beers and talked about the wedding. 

Then on Thanksgiving morning, you and he were up early, drinking coffee and starting to get the kitchen organized for dinner preparations. The parade was playing on the TV, and Bradley occasionally wandered away to play along to a song on the piano. 

But the best part was, you and he were in your underwear the whole time. And you agreed to take a break and ride his dick on one of the dining room chairs after he helped you peel potatoes. He was seriously hoping one of these times it did the trick, because he couldn't wait until you were pregnant. 

"Mm," you hummed, kissing his lips and running your fingers through his hair. "You need to go pick them up at the hotel, and I need to take another shower. I don't think I have gone more than six hours without your cum dripping out of me since I told you I stopped using birth control."

Bradley groaned and helped you stand up. "I told you I was gonna keep you full, Baby Girl. Just wait until we're on our honeymoon."

"Oh, I have plans for you, Roo," you told him over your shoulder as you strolled naked toward the bathroom. He watched you spread the mess on your thighs with each step you took, but when he tried to follow you, he was met with your palm on his chest. "Go pick them up so my mom and I can make dinner," you said with a laugh before you disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door. 

So he got dressed and went to the hotel to pick up your mom and dad. He took the scenic drive on the way back, letting them get a good look at the ocean and all the beach trails. It was a perfectly clear, sunny day, and Bradley hoped tomorrow would be just as good. 

"How many are coming for dinner tonight?" your mom wondered out loud, already worried about the amount of food as Bradley pulled into the driveway. 

"Should be eleven of us," Bradley replied before jumping out to open both passenger side doors for your parents. "It'll be okay. Your daughter is a kitchen wizard. She's got it all under control."

"Hi!" you called out when he led them inside. "Mom, I need help with this stuffing!" 

And after that, Bradley was relegated to the couch with your dad to watch football and drink beer. The Baltimore Ravens were playing, and your dad was invested. And soon Payback arrived with some bottles of wine. And after that Coyote was there along with Jake. Pretty soon, Bradley was smashed into a spot on the couch between Nat and your dad, and everyone was talking and laughing at the same time. 

Jake made his way into the kitchen with the offer to be the official taste tester. Mav, Penny and Amelia arrived with four different kinds of pies. The house was full and noisy, and Bradley knew it was all because of you. The only reason he was here and healthy and happy was because you loved him. You were the main reason he did anything now. 

Bradley found you in the kitchen, laughing at Jake when he burned his tongue on some macaroni and cheese. As soon as Bradley smiled at you, there you were, in his arms. He just held you and rested his chin on your head. 

Your mom turned away from the gravy she was making to look at you in his arms. "Please tell me you've decided on a wedding date."

Bradley opened his mouth to try to distract your mom, but you were already saying, "I think we should have a lot more information by tomorrow, mom. Can you help me set the table, Roo?"

"Sure, Sweetheart," he replied, reaching to gather plates and glasses for you. 

You squealed at him as he followed you around the table, setting down plate after plate. "I don't think any of them know about tomorrow," you whispered with wide eyes.

"Just Mav. Just what we wanted."

"It's perfect! Seriously, Bradley. It's going to be so perfect!"

Then you were in his arms again, and Bradley's tongue was in your mouth. He was about to suggest a detour to the laundry room when your mom walked in, and Bradley tried to back away from you as he blushed. 

But your mom was just laughing. "Maybe you two should just get married tomorrow. I'm surprised I don't have a grandchild already."

"Mom," you groaned, stepping out of Bradley's arms and finishing setting the table. 

"What? With how beautiful you are and how handsome he is, I'll have the most adorable grandkids!"

Bradley just blushed more and mumbled, "I'm trying," before heading back to the living room. 

But pretty soon dinner was ready, and you had everyone sitting at the table which was filled with food that you and your mom had made with minimal help from Jake. Bradley brought in your bottle of hot sauce, just knowing you'd probably want to dump it all over your turkey. The way your eyes lit up when he remembered to do silly little things like that, made him even more excited for tomorrow. 

It was a tight fight for eleven people, and Bradley was sitting in a folding chair at the head of the table next to you. But it was actually kind of perfect. So he stood up for a beat to simply say, "We're both so happy to have all of you here. I hated holidays for a really long time, but now I like them again. So thank you."

Nat raised her wine glass and said, "To family." Everyone else raised a drink as well, and Bradley watched as your parents shared a kiss. He eased himself back into his chair and sipped his wine before setting the glass down. He reached for your hand and laced his fingers gently with yours. 

"Thank you," he whispered, and your eyes met his, a puzzled look on your face. 

"For what?"

He shrugged, searching for the right words as tears pricked behind his eyes. "Everything. You've made everything better."

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

WEDDING CHAPTER IS NEXT! I want to thank all of you so much, especially everyone who has been reading along with Roo and Baby Girl for a long time now. I have so much fun creating this little world that they live it, and you all make it even better! They have come so far together!

PART 20

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[letterstomyfuturedaughterr]

8/14/24 Summertime Sadness

Hey Kiddo,

I'm back after a long and fun summer of living it up. Italian dinner parties, showering Tia Escely and her little one on the way, TAYLOR SWIFT IN GERMANY, camping in Denmark with Omi, going to the ocean despite the cold water temps, surprising Aunt Rachel for her engagement party, weddings, weekly homegrown tomatoes, slowing down, friends. It's been a packed summer. I went into it with the mindset of saying no to very little, being spontaneous, living my best DINK life hot girl brat summer (these are cool things we used to say in Summer 2024, and by 'we' I mean the youths).

It's mid August now. The pace of life is slowing down, weather is getting warmer and drier as we prepare for San Diego summer part 2 and chillier weather teases the rest of the country. Yes, I am already thinking about pumpkins and decorating for my favorite transition season. These weeks where we're no longer in the fixed summer nor the mutable fall have always been the hardest for me. There's so much to look forward to in these -ber months, and at the same time we're saying goodbye to strong sun and pool days and tourist season. I'm ready and I'm not.

This looming motherhood feels similar. I'm ready and I'm not.

It's such a truly bizarre thing to intentionally choose parenthood. Especially when your life is really great, you're super happy and finally have a handle on life. I can see why young people adopt the fuck-around-and-find-out-method. It's so wildly different to do it now, older, and by choice. It's also so strange to hold space for the women in my life who have these same thoughts and have decided not to fuck with those beautiful things. I get it. It seems weird to want to do it. But I do genuinely want to.

I can say 'I want to have a baby' or 'I want to raise a little human with Michael'. It's been harder to see, or even say, 'I want to be a mom'. I'm scared to say that out loud, it feels too powerful of a statement. There's so few examples of motherhood the way I want to do it, and lots of examples of how I don't want to do it. It's felt hard to trust that I can be that example, I can lead that. But I've never done it before how can I??

So here we are, in this weird in between in between. It's like 7th grade, the middle of middle. Firmly decided on yes, starting to try, definitely okay if it takes a little bit of time, terrified it could be a one and done situation. Ready. Not ready at all. I wonder if that's parenthood period.

Writing to you helps. I've been writing these posts for almost a year. I started in October 2023, and I've fallen short of my goal of once a week. That said, I'm really feeling drawn back. I always feel like I have so much to say but so little to write. I need to work on seeing myself in this format. I'm going to try to be more consistent.

I've been reading the book Living Resistance: An Indigenous Vision for Seeking Wholeness Every Day by Kaitlin B. Curtice and she writes "When I dream and imagine the world to come, I do it because I believe that those who came before brought me to this moment and those who come after me will take us beyond it". I feel this deeply in my bones, the hope for a better world that will come with you. The big moments are where I feel ready. It's the in bewtween that feel more scary. But that is where life lies, in the grey. The in between. The post summer not quite yet fall. The end of August.

Love always,

[leefi]

I'm literally gonna enroll in a TEFL course and watch Succession and make both my personality for the next three months

[mrs-hollandstan]

More Than Perfect || Sam Holland

Warnings: mentions of nudity, mentions of childbirth and the complications afterwards, self-doubt, language?, babiessss, Sam just being a supportive cutie

Word Count: 1,720

Author’s Note: Hopefully you guys enjoy a little bit of dad!Sam. Lemme know :) Also, huge credit to @/marsbudge on Instagram for the picture on the right. She’s amazing in expressing her beauty and is the whole reason I created this piece. Moms/ women in general are fucking superheroes. 

My Masterlist || Add yourself to one of my taglists

There was nothing like having a baby. You were told that once you had a little one, your life would change and you would never understand the absolute love you have for this tiny human you'd made. When you and Sam got pregnant with your daughter, he was infatuated with your naked body. The tummy and the thick thighs and the ever growing breasts. Not that you yourself particularly minded being nude around your fiancè or just in general, especially when it just so happened that in the worst weeks of your pregnancy you'd be in the middle of summer. 

When your belly popped towards the bottom, blossoming up the further you got in your pregnancy, Sam lost his mind. He loved the bump and when his hands wandered, it's often where they ended up. More than anything, Sam appreciated the changes your body went through, especially the stretch marks around your thighs, hips, and belly. The boy was obsessed. That's why his Instagram blew up with pictures of your belly, pictures from the baby shower, of the nursery, of her closet, her name board above the crib, and eventually her when she arrived in the beginning of August. 

Virginia Elizabeth was what you named her and Sam, just as much as when she was in your belly, was obsessed with her. She was constantly in his arms and he admired each one of her little features on the daily, dressing her, feeding her (if you couldn't of course), changing her, rocking her to sleep. He was an all around great father. 

Especially because of the pain and exhaustion he inevitably and guiltily felt he inflicted on you. Your bump remained for a few weeks, but what it left, Sam saw, made you slightly depressed. Your feet were still swollen, your breasts were huge but your belly was starting to sag, and the bleeding was ridiculous. You slept most of the time because of the constant milk production and late nights, but Sam didn't mind taking Virginia out into the living room and kitchen, especially if his brothers were over to see their baby girl. 

However, after about a month you'd gotten somewhat used to being a mom and feeding her late at night with Sam right there at your side, giddy smile on his face the entire time at the look of his girls. He loved introducing you as his girls and going to see family and friends with your bubbly little girl in his arms. But something that seemed to remain after all of it was the nudity in your house. 

Sam found that most times he came to find you napping, you were nude beneath the blanket. Not that he minded. Easy access to the skin of your back and belly and thighs. He actually loved the sight and hoped that when he went back to culinary school and eventually went to work as a chef in one of your local restaurants, you'd still be like that, something to look forward to when he climbed into bed with you. 

With a day off from work but not from school, Sam was off in the afternoon and back before the sun started to set, walking up the stoop with a smile on his face. Even a few hours spent away from his girls was torturous. Shouldering the door open, he drops his bag just inside, kicking his shoes off just beside it, 

"Babe?" He calls. There's no reply, a frown covering Sam's face as he walks towards the nursery. He pauses in the doorway of your bedroom when he sees you, smiling to himself. You stand just before your bed, nude with your little girl, only clad in a diaper, in your arms. Your eyes are closed as you sway from side to side, the little one whimpering softly. Walking into the room, Sam stands with his hands on his hips, 

"Look at you two." He says softly. You open your eyes slowly, glancing at him. His smile is so wide you don't know how it fits on his face. He takes a deep, breathless like breath, looking you over, "You two are so perfect." He mumbles before he walks forward again, coming to stand behind you. His hands rest over your hips, lips pressed to your temple, 

"You smell like biscuits." You murmur softly, not faltering in the swaying, even as you lean back against his chest. He chuckles softly, 

"Orange cardamom biscuits. They'd go good with your tea, I'll have to make them sometime for you." He explains softly. You nod, lips pressing against Virginia's cheek. Her little face is turned up towards the ceiling, mouth hanging open as she fights sleep. You sigh, 

"I uhh, I took a shower, put her in that little bouncy thing just outside the shower and she got fussy cause it was hot in the bathroom. So I took her out of her onesie and was holding her and I just... her skin on mine felt amazing. Like yours does. And I miss her. I miss..." Sam can see the tears in your eyes now, "I miss my baby bump and being in the hospital smelling that newborn smell and all that." You tell him. He nods, 

"Its the postpartum peach. You know it'll pass and you'll have so much fun with her when she's older. Plus... the older she gets, the closer we are to havin another one. More of that newborn smell." He reasons. The look you throw him over your shoulder makes him swallow, 

"Alright... yeah, still traumatized from her birth, got it but... you don't have to be so upset. She's still little and perfect... both my girls are, and for the next... what, year, that won't change. She'll get nice and chunky and when she changes, we'll so be ready for it. She'll get giggly and fun and you'll love it. I know you will babe." He reassures. You nod, 

"I know I just can't help it. It feels like someone else is controlling my life, my emotions. I'm sorry." 

"You don't have to apologize Y/N. Your body, your mind are going through a lot of changes. You're maturing and all that. I'm not upset about it. The crying, from you or her doesn't bother me. At least there's some need for me." He half jokes. You smile, looking down at your baby girl. He sighs, 

"I'm really likin this naked thing with you though." He mutters, kissing your shoulder as he molds your hips in his hands. You hum, 

"Sometimes I'm just too lazy to get dressed, other times it's just too hot." You reason. Sam nods, 

"I like it." 

"Oh yeah?" He nods when you glance up at him, "Maybe you should join the party then. I wanna stare at her and she likes daddy's chest." He doesn't even need you to finish the before he's stripping from the grease and oil stained shirt and pants, leaving them in a pile on the floor as you sit at the edge of the bed. You scoot to your side, letting Sam lay down before you before you lay Virginia over his chest. He mumbles incoherently down at her, kissing the top of her head as he strokes down her back. He purrs which makes her whimper, the motion further lulling her to sleep. He glances over at you when you prop your head up on your hand, 

"You're a great father Sam. You've always been an awkward little bean but... when it comes to V, you do amazing." He chuckles softly, 

"Thanks Y/N/N. You two... mean the world." He admits, rubbing up and down your baby's back softly. You sigh, brushing his unruly curls aside, 

"I'm just glad that I don't have to cook. The food you make is excellent and you like doing it and baby loves it too." He laughs again, 

"And that's all that matters is making you both happy." He murmurs. There's a silence that permeates between you for a moment before you stand, finding the thin robe you wear all the time if it genuinely is too hot to wear anything else, 

"What was this... thing you were saying about orange cardamom biscuits?" You ask with a cock of your eyebrow. He smiles wide, tip of his tongue caught between his teeth, 

"I'm starting to think ALL you use me for is food." 

"I feed your little girl from my own body like eight times a day. The LEAST you could do is make bomb fucking food Holland." He hums after a moment, eyes averted from yours and to the little girl laid across his chest. He glances back up, 

"Can we just... have a little longer of this moment? Just a pretty little family before I'm whisked away to slave over a stove." He jokes. After a moment of staring at each other, you sigh, trying to fight your smile before you near the bed again, sitting at his side, 

"Fine Samuel. But only because you're pretty." You lean in to kiss his nose, kissing your baby girl's head just below his chin, "And you too little miss. I just hope you at least get something from me for all the pain and suffering I went through getting you here." Sam reaches up to tuck hair behind your ear, 

"You're a great mumma already. I have no doubt that she'll be witty and perfectly perfect. With a mum like you she'll always know she can never disappoint us with whatever decision or life choice she makes. You'll make sure of it and that's what matters. Raising a decent fucking human being." He says with such passion in his eyes you think you'll faint. You stare at him for another moment before sighing, 

"I love you more than anything on this earth Samuel Holland. Our little family is just perfect right now." You tell him. Leaning up to kiss you, he sighs, 

"Love my girls in all of their beautiful nudity. Love skin to skin." He murmurs. You lay your head against his shoulder, watching your girl sleep. Of course pregnancy and motherhood was difficult, but your fiancè made it so much better and your baby girl was everything and more for the both of you.

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[itsbeenahellofayear]

what we got, it don't come easy

Summary: Some things are easy, some things aren't. It can take time to learn what is important.

Warnings: Smut. Maybe not as much as you'd expect from a story thats pretty much only about sex. Some feelings. Language.

Author's Note: It took a while to get this one across the line. The first segment has been written for weeks, but I lacked inspiration, motivation, and was a little burnt out on anything Leaf related for a little bit there. RIP 2021 season....

Thanks to all of you who kept checking in and were enthusiastic about the little snippet I posted. Kind of kicked my writing into gear today!

I crave your feedback - this is weird and disjointed and very personal in a lot of ways, so I'd love to hear what you think!

---

Sex with Auston is easy - that's never been the issue between you.

This thing started with sex - you connected on tinder, got to talking for a couple of days, then went out for drinks.... That wound up with him in your bed, having arguably the best sex of your life.

That first night, lying hot and sweaty and completely satiated, you'd be lying if the thought didn't cross your mind that you could do this for the rest of your life.

It was that good.

-

You don't keep a list of things to try, but you kind of keep a list of things to try.

-

Some things that make the sex with Auston so good:

He's the first guy to encourage you to use your vibrator on your clit while he's fucking you - it's not every single time - sometimes coordination isn't possible when he's fucking into you so good but those times when he's pressing deep into you, hands on your breasts, grip firm just the way you like, and you've just got your vibe pressed to your clit on a low setting and you just shake apart.... Those are good times.

His dick is huge. Like he's big to start, but then he grows. It honestly took a bit of work to find angles that didn't have him ramming your cervix each time, but once you did... He fills you up so good.

He loves to eat you out. You've had your fair share of mediocre oral, but there's something about the way he just goes for it, lets you twist your fingers in his too long hair, makes these little noises into you, that just really does it for you. He'll open you up with his thumbs and just dive his tongue deep inside of you, then move up and basically caress your clit with his tongue. If you're honest you can't even fathom what he's actually doing, it just feels insane.

He lets you ride his face. Now, it's not an every time thing, mostly because if you're going to expend energy on riding him, really what you want is his cock buried inside your aching slit. But sometimes, he'll settle himself on the bed, and you'll just climb on top of him, grip the headboard, and just ride.

-

You might love him.

(Maybe that's why it's good)

-

So the sex has never been the problem.

The problem lies in the in between bits.

In the moments when you're feeling insecure about his fame, and his looks, and the company he keeps. You're not a party girl - you'll go out to the bar once in a while, but people, everywhere, is not really your scene. You know he likes to go out, especially after wins. You know he likes to drink. And sure, sometimes he'll text you, and he'll end up at your place late at night. But sometimes he won't. And so you wonder.

It's also the moments where he just shuts down, internalizes, and won't communicate. You're not one for talking about your feelings, but you do believe in communicating when it's about things that affect someone else! Case in point: you send him a message in the morning on what you know is his off day - he doesn't even read it let alone respond until 8pm. You had asked him if he wanted to meet up for afternoon drinks.

It's also the moments when he says stupid immature shit, when you realize that, no matter how great a family he comes from, he's still a rich, entitled man-child that doesn't really understand the value of a dollar. And that irks you.

A lot.

-

But.

You're just fooling around - keeping it casual.

But.

-

He takes you out to the cottage with some of his boys. The season ended in heartbreak, they're splitting up for the summer, they want to blow off some steam.

You spend the days lazing by the lake, lying in hammocks in the yard, sneaking off for a "picnic" in the woods. And by picnic you mean Auston laid you out on a blanket and ate you out until you couldn't take it.

You spend the nights getting high sitting out by the fire, leaving unsubtly to go back inside to fuck.

It's probably around day 3 when you realize you're legitimately, 100% in love with this guy.

Day 5 you head back to the city, and haven't really talked to him about how you feel.

He leaves for Arizona the next morning.

-

He's not your boyfriend.

He doesn't know you fell for him.

-

The first night you had sex with him – the first night of the rest of your life – you remember thinking you've never felt this full.

Now, months later, you feel like you're empty.

Anytime you think of him, it's like your pussy just clenches involuntarily around what it thinks should be there, inside of you.

You want him so badly, so deeply, and you don't even have a real claim to him because you couldn't open up and tell him that something had changed.

You catch yourself scrolling insta late at night, looking to see if he's posted something that might hint he's out with someone else.

You hate that you're like this.

-

(You never see anything, for the record)

-

He comes back to Toronto in August.

That honestly catches you by surprise.

More so because you're just home on a Saturday afternoon, watching TV when he knocks on your door. Pretty much the last person you were expecting to see, but you can't deny that your heart ends up in your throat at the sight of him, tanned, bulked up, and looking at you like THAT.

"What..." you start.

"Faith" he breathes out.

You don't understand.

He walks forward into your apartment, crowding you back against the other wall of your tiny entryway.

You're still so caught up in him being here. The way he said your name...

You look up at him.

He just presses himself against you and crushes you to him in a hug. You feel him everywhere. The faint spicy scent of his cologne, the heat of his body, the puff of his breath against your neck where his head is pressing.

Engulfed - your brain provides.

"I missed you" he mutters into your neck.

-

Your brain is going a mile a minute.

How is he here? Why didn't he tell you he was coming back? He doesn't need to be back for weeks. Why is he here? What is happening?

You push him back a little. Not off of you entirely, just enough to give you some space to breathe.

"Auston, what?" You try again.

He looks down at you.

Swallows.

"I..." He starts.

Swallows again.

"I needed to see you, Faith."

He looks... Nervous?

"Aus... What's going on?" You ask him, heart racing out of your chest.

He swears.

"I might be reading this thing wrong, this thing we have, but... I want you to be mine."

You feel like you've been hit with a brick.

All you can do is stare at him as your mind struggles to keep up. You feel yourself reaching for him.

"Aus. Yes. Of course."

He blinks. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You reach for his hand and pull him to the bedroom.

-

Sex is easy, with you and Auston.

You've never been afraid to ask for what you want. He's never been shy to ask for what he wants. And usually that lines up.

But for the first time since all this started, you feel almost shy with him.

Without discussing it, you both get naked pretty damn quickly. There's a second or twenty where you're just looking at him, drinking in his broad shoulders, his stomach muscles, his trim hips and his thick thighs. God, do you want him.

You might say that last part out loud, from the way he laughs and just picks you up and tosses you on the bed.

You've been soaked since you opened your door, and you're impatient to feel him again. He looks at you and you just whimper his name and he smiles, hitches up your legs, and slides slowly, so slowly, inside you

��Fuck, Aus" you hear yourself.

"You feel so good, baby" he groans out, letting you get used to him stretching you out, leaning down to press a filthy open-mouthed kiss to your lips. He bites at your lips as he starts to move, driving into you in a rhythm that makes you feel so good, hitting you just right.

It’s not enough.

But before you can say anything, Auston pulls back, and changes the angle that your hips are lined up with his and suddenly he’s impossibly deeper, and you just can’t breathe with how good he feels and his hands are on your breasts, and he’s pinching your nipples just right, and you are moaning his name almost like a prayer, and it just slips out.

“Aus, I love you.”

You don’t even realize what you said until he stills for a moment, eyes snapping to yours, and he makes this noise.

“Do you mean it,” he asks.

Its not the time for it, but you’re never going to be his open another time so… “Yeah.”

“God, baby. Yes. I love you too. It’s why I came back. I just wasn’t sure…”

He moves back so he can kiss you, deep and filthy. You feel him, deep inside you, and you just… cling to him. He starts fucking into you in earnest - hard and fast, kissing you the whole time, though it ends up being more like just panting into each others mouths but you can’t get enough of him.

“I’m so close,” you manage to get out.

Auston gets a hand between you and presses his thumb to your clit and you just hear yourself keening.

“I love how you feel around me,” he groans out. “Come for me.”

It doesn’t take long.

You shake apart underneath him, and you feel him pulse inside you and it’s just so much and you can feel tears leaking out from the corner of your eyes, and you just feel so much in that moment.

It’s so much.

-

So sex has never been an issue.

But now it is so much more.

[moldisgoodforyou]

the screenplay

hello i am splitting these up tried to put them together but wasn't working

one scene wonder !!

wordcount: 2k short n sweet

________

Sophie had been begging for months now to see the project Rafe had been working on for one of his classes, especially with how often he added to it. He was constantly jotting down notes in his phone when he thought of something to add - at dinner, when they were hanging out, or the second he’d wake up. He’d always shift to the side whenever she tried to peer over and see the screen, nudging her aside.

All she knew was that it was for his screenwriting class in his minor that he took in the spring, and she swore she’d never seen him so invested in school before. He kept editing it after the class finished, working on it a little throughout the summer, but finished it before he went out to see Sophie in Spain.

When they were back to school in mid-August, she’d mainly forgotten about it - until the end of the month, when he strolled into her room and dropped a bound stack of papers on her desk.

She glanced up from her planner, confused. “Hello to you too, Rafe Cameron. Did I know you were coming over?”

“No, I invited myself. It’s done.”

“It?” She picked up the papers and read the first page. It read “UNTITLED,” BY RAFE CAMERON. Once she realized, she lit up, grinning at him. “Is this what I think it is?”

He flopped onto her bed and locked his fingers behind his head, glancing over with a grin. “Dunno, what do you think it is?”

“Your screenplay? Can I read it?”

“Yeah. Go ahead. It’s only twenty minutes or so, just a short film, so don’t expect too much, but.” He shrugged. “You can read it.”

She beamed and moved to the bed to read, facing the opposite of him. As she read, he was buzzing with nervous anticipation, trying to look over when she laughed or grinned at the page, or when she bit her lip - she’d just nudge him away to finish it. When she finished, setting the papers down, she raised her eyebrows at him.

“Do you like it? Is it okay?” He asked eagerly.

Sophie beamed, nodding slowly. “It’s familiar.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed at being caught. “Is it?”

“I mean -” She laughed, running her finger over the main girl’s name, Sloane. “If you were trying to be more subtle, you probably wouldn’t have used my middle name here. Where’d the guy’s name come from?” She cocked her head curiously, hoping to make him blush yet again.

“Uh.” He scratched his head, giving her a sheepish smile. “My middle name’s Asher, actually.”

A grin spread across her face, slowly. “You told me you had no middle name.”

“No, you asked if I had a middle name, and I said no. I have two. Asher and Clifford. Clifford’s my mom’s maiden name.” He corrected, fishing out his driver’s license and handing it to her, with Rafe A. C. Cameron on it.

She glanced it over, then glanced back at him with a teasing smirk. “Rafe Asher Clifford Cameron. That is the most pretentious name I’ve ever heard -”

“Hey!” He nudged her shoulder. “Watch it, that’s your boyfriend you’re talking to.”

“My boyfriend, who wrote our love story into a screenplay.” She beamed as he blushed even harder. His character had confessed his crush on the girl to his friends much sooner than she began to give way, something she’d always suspected for a while, but never confronted him about it.

He tapped the bound pages again. “Did you make it to the end? You missed my favorite part.”

“Yeah, I finished reading…” She furrowed her brow and flipped back through to what she thought was the end, then one page further. There was a dedication inscribed to her in the middle of the page: “inspired by a true story. for my favorite.” She bit her bottom lip hard, tearing up a little.

“Oh. Rafe.”

“Is that okay?” He took the screenplay out of her hands, gently setting it aside, and rolled on top of her to kiss her, slow. “I know it’s kind of cheesy, and you don’t really do cheesy. But I figured you played a part in this just as much as I did, so I wanted to give you some credit.”

“It’s perfect.” She reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair, smiling as she kissed him back. “My sweet boy.”

“Keep your voice down, you’ll ruin my rep.” He joked, laughing when she scowled and bit his lip gently in retaliation. “Hey! Hey, play nice.”

“Did you get an A?” She asked, kissing him again with a little more heat behind it. “Can I keep it?”

“Not sure yet. Yeah, I bound that copy for you, it’s all yours.”

“It’s really good, Rafe. I’m serious. I know I don’t know about movies like you do, but the writing, the directions - I’m really impressed.” She complimented, loving the way he looked away out of embarrassment and blushed red. “You only started this in April or something, right?”

“Uh...yeah.” He lied, rolling off of her to look up at the ceiling when she narrowed her eyes to catch him. “Okay, fine. Um, you know that navy journal I carry around? I’ve been writing notes in there.”

“But I’ve seen you with that since last December.” She furrowed her brow, confused. “We didn’t say I love you for months after that.”

He shrugged, casting her a grin as she climbed onto him and pressed her head to his chest, snuggling close. He wrapped his arms tight around her, tracing patterns on her back lightly. “When you know, you know, I guess.”

“You sap.” She accused, poking her finger against her chest. “My character’s a bitch for the whole first quarter of the screenplay, I can’t believe you wrote that in.”

He laughed, tugging gently on the ends of her hair. “Asher argues right back, I guess it’s how you look at it. The character growth is important, though, they can’t just fall in love like that without conflict. Rule number one of storytelling.”

“Are you gonna produce it?”

“The screenplay? Nah. Well, I don’t know, my professor picks two out of the ten and then we produce them in the spring semester. He did, um, encourage me to enter it in some contest for students, so I submitted it recently, but yeah. Doubt he’ll pick it though.” He dismissed himself easily.

“Hey.” She flicked his chest. “Be more confident. I want someone really hot to play me. Like Megan Fox-caliber.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, okay. I’m sure she’s in the film department’s tiny budget.”

“You have money.” She pointed out, smirking, and leaned up to kiss him.

“Not hire-Megan-Fox money. Besides, you’re hotter.” He met her lips first, shifting so his leg fell in between hers.

“We both know that’s not true, baby.” She raised her eyebrows, skeptical.

“It is true. You’re fucking gorgeous.” He kissed her again, hard, smiling against her lips. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. 10/10, would bang.”

“Thanks for the Yelp review.” She giggled and rolled her eyes simultaneously. “For the record, I always thought you were hot, even if you were arrogant and annoying when we were growing up.”

“I’m glad we waited, both of us.” He threaded his fingers through hers and kissed the tip of her nose. “If we had just one hate fuck and then you got over me I think I’d be so sad.”

“You wouldn’t get over me?”

“I haven’t been over you since junior year of high school, sweetheart.” He pointed out, making her blush bright red.

“What happened with Brooklyn then?” She asked point-blank, feeling bold.

He scowled, pressing his hips against hers. “Do we have to talk about her? Because I have other ideas for topics of conversation. Literally anything else.”

“We don’t have to, no. I’m just curious.”

“I dunno. Good timing, I guess. It kind of started out of convenience, knowing both our families would get along, then turned into a little more.” He shrugged, teasing his thumbs over her hip bones and along the hem of her shirt. “Longest mistake of my life.”

“Hey. You didn’t know she was going to end up that way.” Sophie frowned, then her frown gave way to a smug smirk. “It’s fine, I was sleeping around back then anyways -”

“You’ve slept with one other person, Sophie -” He started with an exasperated sigh, laughing when her jaw dropped in indignation. “Technically, your body count is just two.”

“So’s yours!” She retorted, sitting up on top of him and crossing her arms.

“No. Still four.” He corrected. “And I’d like both of ours to stay that way.”

“So that’s a no to a threesome?” She teased, punctuating her question with a roll of her hips.

“If you think I’m letting another person touch you like I get to, you’re delusional.” He scowled, gripping her hips a little tighter to keep her firmly in place. “I don’t even like other guys looking at you at the bar.”

“You’re too jealous.” She chastised with a flip of her hair. “People are gonna look at me. I’m hot. Bangable, in your words.”

“First off, I was joking, and I’m pretty sure I did not say bangable -”

“You absolutely did! Might as well have called me a slut -”

He raised his eyebrows at her teasing tone, unamused. “Why, do you want that? ‘Cause if you do you can just ask.”

“No.” She pouted, moving off of him.

“Where are you going?” He reached out for her, tugging at the hem of her shirt. “C’mere, I want to snuggle.”

She smiled, endeared by the 6’3” boy in her bed asking to cuddle. “Okay. Just that though, we have that dinner reservation soon, the one downtown.”

He grinned when she crawled back into bed. She looped her arm around his waist, spooning him, and he sighed contentedly. “I’m so excited for those fancy drinks.”

“We can make fancy drinks at home, y’know. Just buy the alcohol and we can try it.” She nudged her nose against his neck, making him flinch and wiggle away for a moment.

“Not the same. $18 cocktails in the fancy glasses just hit different.” He flipped over so he was face to face with her and rested his arm over her waist, scratching little circles on her back.

“Mm.” She closed her eyes but gave him a nod. “Are you gonna order a dumb whiskey drink again then drink half my fruity drink?”

“You like whiskey.” He protested. “We were sharing.”

“Free alcohol is free alcohol.” She replied, her voice taking on a sleepy tone. “How fancy do I have to be for this place?”

“You can just throw on a dress.” He continued to scratch her back, loving her little hums of contentment. “We can take a nap before we go. Twenty minutes. You can do eyeliner and lipstick and whatever in the car.”

“Ideal.” She murmured. “Rafe?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“I really love that screenplay. You’re very talented. I mean it.” She squinted one eye open just so she could see his blush and shy smile.

“Yeah, well. I had good inspiration. Thank you, Soph, that means a lot.” He reached out and stroked his thumb over her cheek as he reminded himself how lucky he was to be with her.

“Always my favorite.” She whispered, leaning forward to peck his lips and cuddle closer into him. “I’m gonna sleep.”

“I love you too.” He murmured back. “Sweet dreams.”

taglist: @drewstarkey @lemur46 @jjmaybanksbaby @edgeofgr8 @quxxnxfhxll @obxtess @hoodpankow @vtgirl802 @outerbankies @messagesinthesky @nicolecarsley @svechnikolan @ilovejjmaybank @obxtess @abbyj1822 @oopsiedoopsie23 @g4bster @jjmaybankzz @freddymaybank @dontjinx-it @illbesafeforyou @moniamaybank @tovvaa @jailcalledlife @sunshineitsfine44 @randomficsandshit @outerbankspreferences @outerbanksbro @karsinner @kkmaybank @whoeveniskendall @lemur46

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Playing with fire

Summary: August Walker was the new chief of the fire station in town. He could have every girl in town. Except you. Because you didn’t want to be just another number in his long list of conquests. But just once wouldn’t matter... right?

Pairing: FiremanAU!August Walker x Nameless OFC

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: Smut (dirty talk; unprotected sex; oral)

A/N: I did it! I finished my entry for @evnscvll​​ 3K challenge. The next time I pick Firefighter AU and Beyonce’s Ego somebody please slap me. Anyways. Hope you enjoy

Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

It's on, baby, let's get lost

You don't need to call into work 'cause you're the boss

For real, want you to show me how you feel

“It’s almost 11,” Beth called from the front of the store.

“And?” You called back, distracted by the task of refilling some of the pints at the display counter.

“It’s friday,” she clarified, impatient.

“Oh…” You hummed, picking up your mug of coffee as you head outside.

It was a hot summer day. The little ice cream parlor you opened last year would probably be filled to the brink most of the day. So you allowed yourself these 30 minutes every Friday to relax and dream. Dream about the firefighters across the street that were doing their weekly workout routine outside, whenever the weather allowed it.

“He’s back,” Beth whispered as you sat down next to her.

“Who?”

“Oh you know fully well who I’m talking about.” She rolled her eyes, hiding her grin behind her glass. You turned your attention to the other side of the street, your eyes going straight to him, even if he had his back to you.

August Walker was the chief of the fire station and was well known for his strict methods and his endless charm. To you, he was the guy who did everything to get into your pants, despite your frequent rebuttal.  You were better than that and refused to to be just another number on his very extensive list of conquests.

It was almost as if he knew you were talking and thinking about him, because he turned around, catching you looking at him. August winked, making you sigh and look away. It was your turn to hide your smirk behind your mug.

“I don’t get it. Why don’t you just let him rail you?” Beth asked.

“Please keep in mind you’re still talking to your boss,” You replied, even though you knew it was pointless.

Yes, Beth was your employee, but before that she was also your best friend and immune to your mood. She had been down on her luck when you decided to open your own store so it made perfect sense to hire her. She was so excited when you told her you wanted to sell self made ice cream that it was impossible not to hire her on the spot.

“Well, boss,” she started with a teasing smirk,  “I want an answer to my question.”

“Look at him,” you pointed out, turning your gaze back to watch him.

“I am looking at him.”

“He could have anyone. He knows exactly what he is doing to the ovaries of everyone who has some around him. He walks like his dick needs his own postcode. Yes, he is hot. But the way he just… Carries himself, like the world is at his feet? I’m better than that.”

You could hear August shouting across the street at his firefighters making pushups. A part of you hoped that he would join them, so you had some nice images you could fall asleep to tonight.

“Oh shit.” Beth cursed next to you. August had pulled off his shirt, and joined the work out.

“And you’re saying no to that?” Beth asked. You bit your lip as you watched him, crossing your legs and feeling your core pulsating.

“I am.” You gulped.

A knock minutes after you closed the store made you sigh.

“We’re closed.” You shouted from the back, returning your attention to the task at hand just when you heard another knock.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” you groaned, dropping the dish cloth on the sink and moving to the front of the store. Beth had left an hour ago, but you still wanted to make sure everything was spotless before you head out. You froze at the door when you saw him standing outside.

August Walker in the flesh.

From the moment he set residence in your little town, rumours about him started flying. Some said he was a criminal still being searched by the CIA, which you thought was ridiculous, but you knew he was released from prison before coming here

He never told you why he had been imprisoned, you weren’t that close, but you two talked a lot. When it was just the two of you, sometimes he would let you have a glimpse of the man behind the facade he built around him.

Yes, he was the cocky, overconfident leader of the firestation, who knew exactly what he had to do to get what he wanted. Yet, when you didn’t give him what he wanted, you seemed to become a challenge for him and those August couldn’t resist.

“What do you want, August?” You asked, cleaning your hands on the apron you were wearing.

“You have some ice cream left for your favourite fireman?” He asked grinning.

“I don’t know. Did you bring Carl?” You shot  back, with a smirk.

“Ouch.” His hand flew to his chest over his heart. You rolled your eyes before you opened the door. He leaned down, kissing your cheek as he walked past you and waited for you to close the door. You watched him as he walked in, wearing only sweatpants and a Tshirt, leaving little to the imagination. He knew how handsome he was, and he made sure to let the outside world know.

“Don’t you have some work to do? Some fires to extinguish?” You asked.

“I did have to actually save a cat from a tree today.” He said.

“You did not.” You laughed.

“Yes I did.” He leaned over the counter as you came back with a cup full of vanilla ice cream.

“I only have vanila left.” You said looking at him.

“Oh sometimes I really like some vanila.” He smirked.

“I might be tiny, but I am going to throw you out if you keep that up.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’d really like to see you try.” He looked at you, and the air seemed to be thicker. You looked into his eyes, your focus on his lips for only a tiny second before you busied yourself, portioning some ice cream for him.

You didn’t want to be another number on August long list of women he slept with. Yet you could feel him looking at you, undressing you with his eyes.

“There you go.” You whispered, pushing the bowl of ice towards him.

“No sprinkles?” He hummed. Looking up you gulped. He somehow got closer to you, his face only inches from yours. His tongue dared out, wetting his lips and you sighed.

“Why won’t you let me kiss you? Just once?” He breathed. You gulped, mesmerized by his oceanblue eyes, when you shook your head, and took a step back.

“Because you are going to break my heart.” You sighed. “You can keep the bowl, close the door behind you, yes?” You asked, not waiting for his answer as you turned around to walk back into the kitchen. You heard him sigh, the door closing behind him.

Bumping your head repeatedly against the wall you sighed.

When you got back to front you saw him walk away. Shaking your head you frowned when you saw that he must have forgotten something on the counter. It was a map of the city. Some buildings were circled red. Shrugging you took the map, intending to give it back to him the next time you saw him.

I consider myself lucky, that's a big deal

Why?

Well, you got the key to my heart

But you ain't gonna need it

I'd rather you open up my body

You felt watched the minute you stepped into the bar. It took almost an hour before you found out why. At the other end of the room sat August. He nodded at you once you caught his eyes, making your sigh internally.

“What’s going on with you?” Beth asked. She had nearly demanded for you to go out together. If you wouldn’t let August fuck you, she needed to find someone else. Her words not yours. Arguing with Beth was a losing game, so you put a dress and some heels on and just went with her.

“He’s here.” You said as you looked at her.

“Who?”

“Mr. “My Ego is as big as my dick””

“Oh and how would you know that?” Beth grinned, waving once to where August was sitting before she looked at you again.

“Because there’s no way he’s not big.” You took a sip from your Gin Tonic.

“So you have given it some thought?”

“My conscience has some very detailed ideas of just how.. gifted he is.” You mumbled.

“You had a sex dream with August?” She said a little too loud, causing some heads to turn towards you.

“Maybe a little louder. I think he didn’t hear it.” You groaned.

��Just… let him fuck you. Sex does work without feelings, you know?” She said encouragingly. Looking at her for a moment, you didn’t know if it was the alcohol or you just fed up with fighting against what was there between August and you. Emptying your glass you jumped from your seat.

“How do I look?” You fidget with your dress.

“Perfect.” She winked. “I’ll open up tomorrow. I don’t wanna see you until the afternoon.”

Usually I'm humble

Right now, I don't choose

You can leave with me

Or you could have the blues

“Are you following me, Mr. Walker.” You asked, making sure to sway your hips on your way over to him. He looked good with his buttoned up black shirt, the sleeves rolled up over his elbow.

“I would say yes, but that would make me a creep, wouldn’t it?” He asked, making you chuckle. “No. I was actually supposed to meet up with an old friend, but apparently I was stood up.”

“Oh and we can’t have that, can’t we?” You bit your lip.

“What are you suggesting?” He asked, bringing his bottle of beer to his lips, his eyes not leaving yours.

You leaned down, your hand on his shoulder, your lips against his ear. “Follow me and find out.” You whispered, kissing his cheek before you turned around, not even trying to hide your grin. You weren’t even out the door, when you felt hands on your hips.

“Your place or mine?” He whispered against your ear.

“Which one is closer?” You shuddered, his hand wandering down your body.

“Mine it is.” He growled against your ear, one of his hands on your stomach, pushing you against his chest. You could feel the hard outline of his cock pressed against you, making you moan quietly. You didn’t question that he seemed to know where you lived.

“I can’t wait to have you screaming my name.” He mumbled, nibbling on your ear. You melted against him, your panties becoming uncomfortable damp, as your mind took over, thinking on just how he would feel inside of you.

He talk like this 'cause he can back it up

He got a big ego

Such a huge ego

Turning in his arms your answer died on your lips as his crashed down on yours. It felt like something clicked. Holding onto him, as he deepened the kiss you didn’t care that you were standing on the sidewalk, making out like teenagers.

“Fuck.” He whispered against your lips.You opened your eyes, not even noticing having them shut in the first place. A whistle behind you made you look away from him, biting your lip.

“Your place. Now” You whispered.

“Fuck, August.” You cried out, your hands clutching the soft sheets of his bed.  As soon as the door to his apartment shut behind him he had dragged you to his bed, stripping you off your clothes, before he buried his face between your thighs. He had you coming on his tongue in minutes, not giving you a chance to catch your breath when he pushed two of his fingers into your core, making you moan his name.

You were on the brink of an orgasm again, when he stopped, pulling his fingers out.

Panting you looked up at him.

“You gonna cum on my cock the next time.” He growled. Slowly pushing yourself up, you kneeled on his bed. He was still fully dressed. You helped him with the buttons of his shirt, your lips kissing up his chest with every bit of skin underneath, until you pushed it off his broad chest. There were scars on his chest. You would ask about them some other time.

His hands worked on the fly of his pants, before he pushed it down, revealing what must have been the biggest cock you had ever seen. That he was going commando wasn’t a big surprise to you. Biting your lip you reached for it, your hand barely closing around it, pumping it slowly.

“Fuck.” He hissed, throwing his head back.

“That’s gonna be one tight fit.” You joked, wondering how he would fit.

“Oh sweetheart. I’m gonna be gentle.” He breathed, kissing you quickly. “At least the first time.”

“So there will be a next time?” You asked, crocking your eyebrow. You rubbed your thumb over his tip, spreading the precum, before you brought your thumb to your lips, tasting the salty essence.

“I’m never gonna let you leave these walls.”

Pushing you down so you were laying on your back his body covered yours as he kissed you deeply. Your hands wandered up his back, disappearing in his hair. You gasped, as you felt his cock at your inner thigh.

“Fuck me, August.” You groaned against his lips. Desperate for him to fill you. He reached for this bedside table, opening the first drawer. He brought the foil package up to his lips, ripping it open. You felt yourself shivering beneath him as he rolled the condom over his cock. The tip teasing your entrance.

“I have waited for this…” He whispered, slowly pushing in.

“Jesus….” You moaned, feeling him go deeper. “Oh he can’t help you now, Sweetheart.” August grinned, biting his lip. He was still pushing in, and it felt so good.

“So fucking tight.” He groaned, stopping when he fully nestled inside your core.

“Move.” You whimpered.

“Sure?” He pressed.

“Yes. Fuck me.” You sighed, one of your hands on his ass, urging him to move. He bottomed out, thrusting back in, making you cry out.

“Yes…” You groaned. He began to move faster, pushing himself up, so he was kneeling between your legs, watching you.

“Better than I imagined.” He groaned. Bringing one of his hands down he began to rub your clit.

“Harder. Please, fuck me harder.” You gasped, your whole skin on fire as he brought you closer to the edge. You reached a hand over your head, grabbing the headboard as he pumped into you harder.

“So fucking perfect.” He growled. His other hand pinched your nipple, making you jump and cry at the same time.

“You gonna cum for me? Cum all over my hard cock?” He asked. He rubbed quick circles over your clit, not waiting for your answer, as you felt yourself cuming again, your legs shaking, warmth floating through your body.

“Yes. Just like that. Fuck.” He fucked you through your orgasm, making it last until he pulled out, pulling out the condom and shot his cum all over your stomach.

“Fuck…” He groaned, pumping his cock. You waited until he opened his eyes, before you swooped one finger, in his cum, making a show out of licking it from your finger.

“Jesus…” He groaned. You grinned.

“Oh he can’t help you now, sweetheart.” You teased, your laugh turning into a moan when he leaned down and kissed you senseless.

Against all odds, and everything you thought of him, it wasn’t just a one time thing. August and you were inseparable, much to the distraught of everyone around you. Beth caught the two of you fucking in the bathroom of your ice cream parlor once, and teased you endlessly about it.

There was still so much you had to learn about him. He never talked about his past. He once said he was ashamed of it, yet somehow you felt like there was something dark about him, the more time you spent with him. You couldn’t point out what, so you never said something. He would talk to you when he was ready.

You on the other hand were an open book to him. Not that there was much to know in the first place. And you caught yourself staying over his place more and more. Missing his presence in your house. Somehow he wasn’t a big fan of your place.

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” You began, hoping on the kitchen counter next to where he was preparing some dinner. He looked at you.

“Why are there pictures of building all around your apartment?” You asked. You’ve been asking yourself this question for a while now. Two of the buildings you saw on pictures in his office had been burned down in the last weeks. There seemed to be a fire raiser on the loose since the beginning of the years.

“We’re updating the fire security on a couple of buildings in the city…” He answered.

“Do you think they will catch the guy?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.” He sighed, before you felt his hand on your thigh, sneaking under your bathrobe.

“And what are you up to, Mr. Walker?” You grinned, the many questions you still had forgotten.

“I think I want a taste of dessert first.” He whispered, before he parted your legs and got on his knees.

It was about 6 months of you two dating when he asked you to move in with him. You had laughed, but stopped immediately when you saw the serious look on his face.

“Oh you were serious.” You said.

“Of course I am.”

“But August…” You sighed, walking over to where he was sitting at a table in your little cafe. You put your hand on his shoulder, sitting down on his lap. You thought he smelled like fuel, but you didn’t question it.

“My house is much bigger than your place. And we both only have been dating for a half year. Let’s give it a bit more time.” You said, kissing him softly. He sighed against your lips, his arms pulling your closer.

“Okay.” He whispered back.

Yet when he came back from a job a couple days later, a frown on his face, something felt off.

“What happened?”

“It’s your house.” He sighed, walking over to you.

“What about my house?” You asked, now frowning yourself.

“Someone burned it down. We tried everything but we were too late. It burned down completely.” He said. All colors left your face.

“What?” You croaked.

“I really tried. We really tried. I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.” He sighed. You could feel the tears running down your face, sobbing when his arms put you against his body. He still smelled of smoke.

“But… All my stuff… Oh god… Where am I gonna live?” You asked against his shirt.

“Stuff you can replace. And… I already asked you if you wanted to move in.”

“But...” You sniffed.

“We can talk it out later. Now you need a place to stay..” He said, kissing your hair.

“You’re serious?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Of course. Move in with me while you figure this out.” He said softly.

What other choice did you have really?

“Okay.” You nodded.

Later that night when you were sound asleep in August arms you didn’t see his smile. His whispered words of love as he looked down at you. You didn’t know that it was him who burned down your house. Or all the houses in the city. And you never would. Because August Walker finally got what he wanted. You.

[jalapeno-princess]

You Weren’t Mine to Lose

Mark Tuan X Reader

Word Count: 9.4K

Genre: Angst

Warning: Mentions of sex, cheating

Summary: You made the mistake of falling in love with someone who was never yours to begin with. What started off as a one night stand turned in to months of sneaking around with each other and devoting most of your time and energy to a man who was already in a relationship. However, the high you get from fooling around with Mark is the only thing that’s been keeping you from going completely insane. But what happens when lust turns to love?

A/N: Hey guys, so I have good news and bad news. Let’s start with the bad news, I had to get a second job (On top of my teaching job and being a full time college student) so this means I won’t be able to write as much as I normally do (I haven’t even started on my new series just yet and I’m sorry for those who are anticipating it I have no clue when I will actually get around to writing it) but the good news is I have two stories prepared to post within the next few weeks so there’s that to look forward to. I hope you’re all doing well, especially after the news of Yugyeom signing with another company but honestly, I am so happy for him. If all seven of them end up leaving the company entirely, good for them. They deserve so much better than the shit excuse of a company JYPE is and I support each and every single member in all of their endeavors and plans for the future. With that being said, happy reading. (Based on August by Taylor Swift). 

Salt air, and the rust on your door I never needed anything more Whispers of "Are you sure?" "Never have I ever before"

But I can see us lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time 'Cause it was never mine And I can see us twisted in bedsheets August sipped away like a bottle of wine 'Cause you were never mineYour back beneath the sun Wishin' I could write my name on it Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinkin' I had you

But I can see us lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time 'Cause it was never mine And I can see us twisted in bedsheets August sipped away like a bottle of wine 'Cause you were never mine

Back when we were still changin' for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all Cancel plans just in case you'd call And say, "Meet me behind the mall" So much for summer love and saying "us" 'Cause you weren't mine to lose You weren't mine to lose, no

“Fuck—go faster, please—M—Mark, I need you to go faster—sh—shit shit, just like that.” 

Mark Tuan, ever the gentleman did as he was told. However, he would do anything you asked of him during moments like this, God knows he wanted it too. His cock felt so wonderful grazing against your tight, sopping walls. His hardened tip continuously hit the back of your cervix, kissing it with each and every thrust. 

The two of you were going at it for almost an hour now; both of you reached your highs after giving each other mind blowing head—but you had yet to come together. You edged him three times, riding him until his cum reached the tip of his cock only to lift yourself off of him, earning you a scowl and the sexiest grunts of frustration. 

He left multiple slap marks on your ass; letting you know that he wasn’t going to let you have all power against him. No matter how much fun he’d have whenever you did dominate him and take over the sex session, he wasn’t letting you have all the fun tonight. There was sweat dripping down both your bodies—his entire body was warm with fervor as he continued to leave multiple hickeys along the valley of your breasts. 

His breath was hot against your neck as he tried his best to conceal his moans; it was surprising, his room had no echo whatsoever—yet, the many sinful noises falling from his mouth and yours bounced off the walls along with the sound of skin on skin slapping against each other. His thrusts were relentless as he picked up his pace; pumping in to you as if he was trying to punish you for being naughty. His pelvis ramming against your bare cheeks made a loud crack sound each time he pulled out and shoved himself back inside of you. 

It was addicting; feeling him bury himself balls deep inside of your pussy, but you were well aware that the sensation had an even bigger effect on him than it did you. Doggy style was Mark’s favorite position right next to watching you bounce up and down on him as your breasts jiggled all but gently. Something about being able to see his cock sliding so easily in to your tight walls drove the older boy fucking crazy. 

“Fuck y/n—so fucking tight as always baby. Tell me how it feels—I want to know that I’m driving you insane—“

“Feels—so good Mark—so, so good.” 

He hummed contently against the crook of your neck while picking up his pace if it was even possible. At this point, he was practically drilling himself inside of you; it came as a shock that you both still had yet to cum. On other occasions, you and Mark had no problem with reaching your highs with just your hands and mouths alone. Penetration was your favorite part of sex, so you had a feeling your body wanted to indulge in having Mark’s cock inside of your pussy for as long as you could have him for. 

“You feel so amazing y/n, I could fuck you for hours. I will never get tired of having your cunt wrapped around my dick. Please—tell me you’re close. I’m about to lose my damn mind here pretty soon.” You giggled softly against his chest; nodding in agreement while placing a few wet kisses near the sensitive spot right below his ear. 

“I’m close, so close—“

He bit softly against your collarbone, trying to hide the fact that he was seconds away from losing his will to do anything. You were just that mind blowing. Unfortunately, right as you were about to let the wave of lust consume your entire body like a wildfire, there was a new sound that filled the room. The piercing ring of a cellphone broke you out of your Mark induced haze. T

his wasn’t the first time his phone went off while the two of you were busy loving up on each other’s bodies; there were multiple situations where Mark had to cuss out his friends because they always seemed to try and get in touch with him at all the wrong times. There was even one night where he threw his phone at the wall because it wouldn’t stop ringing. When you felt Mark tense up at the blaring noise, you had a huge feeling you knew exactly who was on the other line. He looked up at you and released an exasperated sigh before doing the unthinkable. You wanted him to ignore it, just like he did almost every single time, but he tapped gently on your thigh; as if he was nonverbally asking for you to put your late night romp on pause. 

“Mark, are you fucking serious—“

“It’ll just be a minute, tops. I promise. No funny business, please.” 

To your dismay, he reached for his phone and answered the call. It was tempting—the idea of palming his naked sex, fondling his balls or even grinding your wet folds against his thigh—you knew you would get some kind of reaction out of him. Mark was a very sensitive person; physically and mentally. It didn’t take much for him to cry; emotionally and sexually. 

He cried in front of you more times than you could count on your fingers. Whether it was because of a sad movie, when school could get a little too much for him to handle or the time he got the news that his grandfather was diagnosed with stage three lung cancer, he didn’t hesitate to pour out his feelings in front of you. You felt special knowing that you were one of the very few people who’d get to see that side of Mark; his soft, gentle, fragile side. Not the confident, overbearing and egotistical asshole he’d portray himself out to be on campus. 

During the times you would find yourself on your knees, milking him dry of his white, creamy liquid and making sure his legs would wobble by the end of the night, he’d always cry out in pleasure while begging you to do something—anything to help soothe the pleasurable soreness you caused to his lower body. You knew you’d be treading in rough waters if you did tease him in any way while he was on the phone with her, but you were coming to the point where you didn’t even care if she were to find out anymore. 

“Hello? Hey, what’s up? Everything okay?” 

You laughed sarcastically in disbelief—what was so important that couldn’t wait a few more minutes? Something had to be wrong with Mark—who in their right mind would put a halt on fulfilling their carnal urges just to answer the damn phone? You rolled your eyes in irritation—it’s because she was the one trying to get in touch with him. His girlfriend of a year and a half, Aubrey. 

You never understood why Mark continued to fool around with you when he had a girlfriend. What started off as a one night stand at a house party one of his friends threw a little over five months ago turned in to a dangerous affair between the two of you. For the longest time, you knew nothing of the girl in question; Mark was really good at hiding her existence. 

He never told you that he was in a relationship, you didn’t see her at any party or gathering nor did you get a chance to see her around school. But that was because she was his girlfriend from back home. He only saw her during breaks or if she flew up to see him, but for most of their relationship—they were long distance. That was the only plausible reason you believed he allowed this relationship or whatever it was between the two of you to continue. 

One day, you were playing games on Mark’s phone when she sent him a message, asking him what he was doing. At first, you just assumed it was a friend of his or maybe even a classmate, but then, she told him that she missed him and told him to call her when he had the chance. You confronted him in anger; sure, you found it completely weird that he continued to see you—especially for more than just sex. The two of you couldn’t even be considered fuck buddies—no, not when you’d go to sleep wrapped tightly in his warm embrace only to wake up in the morning to his signature gummy smile and stinky morning breath. 

You’d go on cute little dates—or what you assumed were dates. He’d hold your hand and compliment you on your beauty and whatever outfit you put together that day. He’d call you if he couldn’t sleep, he’d pick you up from and drop you off to school, he’d cook you food if he noticed that you were tired and he even made a playlist of songs that reminded him of you; albeit, most of them were meant for when the two of you would stumble in to bed together, but it also contained songs that were more heartfelt and romantic. 

You had a hard time understanding why you were letting him continue to use you. You hated cheaters with a passion; you’ve seen homewreckers ruin multiple marriages within your family and the idea of someone in a relationship fooling around with another person made your skin crawl—yet here you were, fucking with another girl’s boyfriend. You went against all your beliefs and every single rule you were taught to follow just for the devastatingly handsome and sweet talking man sitting right in front of you. 

Honestly, you felt bad for his girlfriend. It was obvious that Mark meant a lot to her. She would constantly text him and send him pictures of what she’d be eating or if she went somewhere the two of them used to frequent. You felt horrible; Aubrey seemed like such a sweet girl and she was completely oblivious to the fact that there was someone else involved in Mark’s life. There were so many times you wanted to call it quits with Mark, you couldn’t keep fooling around with him considering the fact that he had someone at home who loved him—almost as much as you did. 

When you first found out that you weren’t the only one, you should have told him it was over. You should have told him that you weren’t the kind of person who was fine with committing adultery nor did you want to be the other woman—you were a firm believer in monogamous relationships but you didn’t have the strength to tell him no when he began to leave wet, sloppy kisses all along your jaw. You were in deep and you despised the fact that you were so hooked on to him. Mark was everything you could ever want in a significant other; not only was he the most attractive man you have ever laid your eyes on, but he was soft-spoken and gentle towards you. 

At school, he was a cocky prick; his group of friends were some of the most popular guys at your university. It seemed as though every student either wanted to be them, be friends with them or to be with them. But when the two of you were alone, his demeanor would take a 360 degree turn. Sometimes, you’d find it hard to believe that he had two personalities; one meant for his friends and everyone he associated himself with and another one meant for you and only you. It got you thinking though, how did he act when he was with Aubrey? 

Did he treat her the way he did you? Was he protective over her? Could she make him laugh the way you seemingly never failed to? Did he get flustered by a single smile or graze of her fingers against his arm? Was he constantly checking up on her to see how her day was going? He hardly ever talked to her when the two of you were together and seeing as how most of your free time was spent with him, you wondered when he had the chance to call her. 

There were only two instances where he answered her phone call when you were hanging out together. He always gave you an apologetic frown while taking the call and it was when you heard him tell her that he loved her that you knew, you were in love with him. It felt like a painful jab to the chest—for months, you’ve been lying to yourself. 

I don’t love him, I just love who I am when I’m with him. I love how he takes such good care of me and how he fucks me so well. 

You’d repeat those words to yourself every single time that you’d get to see him. With every kiss he’d steal from the corner of your mouth or every smile and look of adoration he’d send your way, you began to feel something deep in your chest. Whenever he’d drop you home, you always felt so empty—like a piece of you went with him back to his place. 

Mark Tuan owned your heart; there was no doubt about it. You’ve been with quite a few guys in the last three years of college but none of them could ever make you feel as over the moon or as elated the way Mark so easily did. He made you so happy; your heart rate would increase rapidly just by the mere sight of him. His laughter—his high pitched, contagious laugh always seemed to send fire through your veins. For months, you tried to accept the fact that all you would ever be to Mark was a place to put his cock while he was away from his actual significant other. 

Maybe, he was only kind, affectionate and generous towards you because it was the only way to get you to stay by his side. If it were anyone else in your shoes, they probably would have given up on him once it was revealed that he was already in a relationship. 

How did he not feel even the smallest ounce of guilt rearranging your guts; pressing you up against his balcony and fucking you in to the next week knowing that his girlfriend was waiting patiently for him to graduate so they could finally be together? And how could he not feel remorse considering the fact that he brought you in to this mess? He was selfish; that you felt wholeheartedly was true. If he cared about you or Aubrey, he would have either broken up with her as soon as the two of you found yourselves falling in to bed together the first time, or he would have never even cheated on her in the first place. How could he continue this facade? How was he fine with playing not just his girlfriend, but you too? He probably didn’t think you held any romantic feelings for him and God—if only that was the truth. 

If you had the choice, you would go back to the beginning of your arrangement and made it your mission to have never fell in love with him. You would have made yourself immune to his endless flirting, you wouldn’t let yourself kiss him other than when you would have sex, you would have made sure that what went on with you and him was strictly physical. No feelings—No emotions—nothing. It was only natural for you to have felt something for him. If you knew back then what you currently know now, you would have never allowed him in to your life—in to your heart. 

You would have never let him tear down the walls you’ve built so high in attempts to keep people out. You would have never allowed him to take up your entire mind—you wouldn’t have given him your body if he wasn’t willing to take all of you. Who were you kidding? There was no regretting Mark Tuan. Even if you were given the chance to go back to the past, you wouldn’t change a thing. Mark Tuan was your person, whether you wanted to accept it or not. He was the rightful owner of your heart, even if you didn’t own his. You couldn’t really hear what she was saying over the phone, but Mark’s brows began to furrow; as if something bad happened. 

Since he was distracted, you took this time to pull away from him—retracting his cock from your now dry folds. Tears were brimming at your eyelids and you would rather die than give him a reason to inflate his ego. He’d have a field day if he found out that you were in love with him; that was the last thing you needed—the last thing he deserved. You would always come second to Audrey. He might have currently been in bed with you; his limbs tangled with yours—running his hands through your hair, tracing the outline of your features feather lightly, kissing every corner of your face, but at the end of the day, Aubrey had the rightful title of his girlfriend. Not you. Nor would it ever be you, even if they did break up one day. 

If Mark saw you as someone with more than just a casual fuck to him, then he would have solidified your relationship months ago. If he harbored any sort of feelings for you, he’d feel wrong telling another girl that he loved her.  Did he though? Did he love her? If he genuinely loved her or at least cared for her—especially because they were in a relationship together, he would never have cheated on her. 

When you love someone, you never want to put them in any kind of situation that would hurt them and you most definitely wouldn’t feel right giving yourself—your time, love, effort and energy to anyone else but that person. As soon as he saw you getting up from off the bed, he asked Aubrey to wait a minute and gave her the excuse that someone rung on his doorbell. You had to force yourself not to say or do anything that would get him in trouble with his girlfriend. 

“What are you doing? I said I’d be hanging up with her soon I’m literally about to end the call—“

“Don’t bother—I’m no longer in the mood anymore so you go finish up with her while I finish myself off.” 

You picked up your clothes from where they were thrown on the ground and headed over to the bathroom; locking the door before he could try and stop you or get you to change your mind. In the corner of your eye, you could see him attempt to follow you, but he must’ve stopped altogether once you shut the door. 

A choked up sob fell from your lips and you tried so hard to prevent any tears from falling, but it was inevitable. Why did you let this go on for so long? Mark was breaking your heart more and more as the days went on and you were the pathetic fool who continued to allow him in doing so. You were wrapped around his finger and there was nothing you could do about it. As soon as you put on all your clothes, you rinsed your face free of any tears and took a deep breath before returning outside. 

All you wanted to do was return back to your apartment. You needed some time to think out this entire arrangement. The idea of losing Mark—no longer having him in your life, no longer being able to kiss his pretty lips, to be held in his protective embrace, to hear him whisper sweet nothings while he passionately made love to you, it broke your heart. It was as if he had somewhat of a Stockholm syndrome hold on you. He was ruining you mentally; he was holding you captive and you weren’t able to leave him—nor did you willingly want to. At this point, you were fine with Mark taking advantage of your patience. All you wanted was him; in anyway you could have him. 

Once you felt like you gave yourself enough time to breathe and recollect your thoughts, you hesitantly made your way back in to his room and you were secretly hoping he’d still be occupied with Aubrey so you didn’t have to worry about him stopping you and questioning what just happened. If this were to happen in the beginning of your affair, you wouldn’t have let it got to you and you were sure you’d continue from where the two of you left off from; but now that there were feelings involved—specifically your feelings, there was no way you could pretend that nothing was wrong. That—you were fine with being a side chick who would drop anything and everything just to be at his beck and call. You were sure you’d spill everything; knowing the kind of person you were, you would probably tell him how and when your feelings of lust turned in to love and how you respected yourself a lot more now to continue staying with someone who technically belonged to another woman. 

He might not have seen her in a long while, but he continued to act like everything was fine between them. Not once has he ever told you exactly what she meant to him—she hardly ever came up in conversation. It’s as if he never wanted to bring her up and you understood that it was because Mark was well aware that as someone who was sleeping around with him, you probably wouldn’t want to hear about his girlfriend. To your dismay, he was no longer on the phone and he was sitting at the edge of the bed—still naked and waiting for you to come out. 

Right as his gaze landed on you, he leaped up from off the bed and made a beeline toward you. He tried to reach out to you, but you shook your head—you didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt. You were exhausted; he continued to take, take, take from you and although he was very generous in bed, he didn’t give the same amount of devotion in a romantic aspect. He didn’t fulfill your heart’s desires like he did with your lustful ones. 

“Where are you going baby—“

“Don’t. Don’t give me that baby shit Mark, you just got off the phone with your girlfriend for heaven’s sakes. I think it would be best for the both of us if I were to leave before I say or do something I will regret.”

“Wait—what are you even saying? What happened y/n? Why do you sound so upset? You knew exactly what you were signing up for as soon as we hooked up—“ 

You let out a scoff of disbelief. Was he being real right now? It was too late, you were going to let everything out tonight. If he ended up not reciprocating your feelings, then there was nothing you could do. These last six months opened your eyes to the reality that you were never going to mean as much to Mark the way he did to you. You could try anything; you could fuck him as much as both your time and energy permitted you to. You could do whatever it was he asked of you, but it would never be enough. You would never be enough. 

There was something Aubrey had that you didn’t; you couldn’t quite put your finger on it—it couldn’t have been because they have a longer history. Maybe he felt obligated to continue staying with her. Although you knew Mark like the back of your hand—you knew practically every little thing about him, there had to be some information that he left you in the dark about. Maybe their parents were friends and he just wanted to please the both of them by staying with her or maybe he genuinely liked her, but he had his desires that needed to be fulfilled and he was going to use you until they could finally be together again.

“I didn’t know anything you asshole! You kept Aubrey a secret from me for an entire fucking month. I shouldn’t have told you I was okay with continuing whatever it is that’s going on between you and I. It’s not fucking fair Mark, to her or to me. We were fucking when your girlfriend called! Does it not bother you in the least way that you’re playing the both of us? Do you not sit back and think that what you’re doing is wrong? Yes, I’m sleeping around with a man in a relationship, but you’re the one allowing it! You’re just as at fault here, so don’t try to make it seem like you’re not doing anything wrong! Admit it, you get off on some kind of high knowing that you have the ability to manipulate two different women. One who you call your girlfriend and one who you call when you need to get your dick wet. I don’t know who you think you are Mark, but I’m tired of being your puppet. I’m tired of giving you the ability to break me—to do whatever you want with me. I let it go all these months; I know it was wrong and I feel like such a bitch for getting involved with you knowing you have a girlfriend. I made a vow to myself never to do such a thing but look Mark—I’m a fucking mistress! I can’t blame you completely because I’m still here, but I need you to know that I can’t do this anymore. I’m done. With this—with you. Have a nice life, I no longer want to be apart of it.” 

You quickly grabbed your bag from his bedside table and stormed out of his room—if he were to come after you and attempt to sweet talk you in to staying; at his apartment and in his life, you would’ve gave in to him and that powerful speech you just poured your heart in to would have all been for nothing.  As much as you wanted to rid him from your thoughts entirely and say that you felt as though a huge weight has been lifted from off your shoulders, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt when you realized he wasn’t chasing after you. But then again, this was what you wanted—your heart could no longer handle the fact that he didn’t care for you or love you the way you practically gave him your entire being. 

You would have done anything for the older boy—you were well aware of that and so was he; but allowing him to play with your emotions all the while leading you on was something you refused to let continue. From the time you were a little girl, you were extremely insecure about every single little feature on your body; your bushy eyebrows, your chubby cheeks, your sharp nose that you believed was too big, your crooked teeth and short neck. You also didn’t like the fact that you were only 5”2—you felt like people didn’t take you seriously because you were so tiny. However, over the course of your arrangement with Mark, you didn’t know how you did it—but you fell in love with everything you believed you hated about yourself. 

Unfortunately, you knew Mark had a lot to do with it. He praised your body on a daily basis, like it was his duty to tell you how breathtakingly beautiful you were and how your body was handcrafted by Leonardo DaVinci himself. During your sexual activities; whether it was when he’d find himself with his face buried in your cunt, or if he had you pressed up against the counter, he never failed to compliment you on how soft your skin was, how insane your curves were and how he truly believed you were God’s favorite with how amazing your body was. 

Only then did it hit you—Mark only ever seemed to compliment you when his dick was deep inside of you or right after the two of you reached euphoria together. You had to accept it—you were just a fuck buddy, a play thing—someone to help him relieve stress and find pleasure through. When you reached your car, you sat in it and cried for a few moments; allowing everything to come out. 

It was hysterical; less than an hour ago, you were crying out of frustration because he kept fucking you with his fingers but refused to fill you with his length until you begged him to do so. Now, your sobs were filling up your entire vehicle all because you couldn’t let your affair to continue anymore. Everything seemed to be getting out of hand. You put so much effort in to something so pathetic all for a boy who couldn’t give less of a shit about you—a stupid, egotistical, manipulative, selfish asshole. You wanted to wait until you were completely calm and free of any more tears before you began to drive back to your apartment. 

Did all of that really just happen? What were you going to do now? There was no way you could just pretend like he was nothing to you. Six months of memories; kissing him in bathrooms that was hardly ever used at your university, singing along to Disney movies, helping each other with homework, attempting to cook meals that either of you saw on food network and ultimately failing, driving to another state on a whim just because you needed a break from life—every single beautiful moment spent with him was forever etched in to the back of your mind. 

Mark Tuan was the rightful owner of your heart; he was the reason why it would flutter and rapidly beat as much as it would sink and tear apart by the smallest mistake or argument. You continuously repeated to yourself that this was what you needed—you needed to let him go sooner or later or else he would end up breaking you completely; until you were a shell of nothing. 

Two weeks went by since that night and you could honestly say they were the worst two weeks of your entire life. You weren’t even exaggerating—you were miserable beyond belief. Mark hasn’t tried to get in contact with you at all since you stormed out of his apartment and with every swig you took of whatever alcohol beverage you drank in order to take your mind off of the man in question, you attempted to coerce yourself in believing that this is what you wanted. 

This is what was best for you. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell though; sure, you told him that you were done with him and you no longer wanted to have anything to do with him, but he gave up so easily. It felt like a slap in the face by reality that your biggest worries were true—he had no legitimate feelings for you; just lust. He could get anyone he wanted to take your place; you were just another useless body. You wouldn’t be surprised if you were to find out that he told his friends about you and what the two of you have been doing for the last few months. 

His group of friends were notorious for having a group chat that they would brag about all of their hookups. You were so tempted to reach out to him and the multiple amounts of alcohol you’d consume would only make you crave his presence a lot more. Some days were better than others and by better, you didn’t cry as much and you actually would get some sleep. Why did you allow this to happen? 

Anyone who knew anything about friends with benefit relationship were well aware that it could never be just sex. Things always got messy; one person fell in love while the other didn’t reciprocate the same feelings. In this case, you were the poor unfortunate soul who got the short end of the stick—you fell in love knowing that your feelings would never be reciprocated. It was heartbreaking; the first time you ever loved someone—it just so happened to be a person that was never yours in the first place. Once you were to move on from Mark completely, you were afraid that you would never be able to love anyone else. 

This entire arrangement ruined your outlook on love permanently. You had to force yourself not to try and reach out to him—there was a point where you even hid your phone because you were afraid you’d give in and call him. He obviously didn’t care—losing you wasn’t a loss to him at all. Not if you never meant anything to him in the first place. Your friends tried to reach out to you multiple times throughout your emotional episode; it wasn’t like you drop off the face of the earth without an explanation. But nobody knew about you and Mark—nor would anyone understand what you were doing with him. 

You were still in your early twenties, but you weren’t too young to realize that having an affair was wrong. You’ve known that even when you were a little girl—if your friends or even your family were to find out the mess that you’ve gotten yourself in to, they’d be so disappointed. Every time your phone went off, you held on to a tiny string of hope that it would be Mark trying to get in contact with you. It was too much of you to hope that maybe, just maybe he came to the conclusion that he missed you, that he was nothing without you and that he accepted the thought of loving you. However, it was always your close friends trying to get you to go out with them. 

As much as you felt like you should say yes to them and allow yourself to move on by joining in on activities to keep you preoccupied, you didn’t have the strength, energy or desire to do anything at all. At the three week point, you came to accept that Mark wasn’t coming back. He was done with you, and there was nothing you could do about it. When you returned back to school, your friends were on your case—pointing out the fact that you looked like literal death. Claiming that you’ve lost at least ten pounds since the last time they saw you and that your cheekbones were more prominent. 

They also stated that you looked as though you haven’t slept in days—your eye bags were dark and your eyes were puffier than usual. Like you had done with everyone else in your life; you lied and gave them the excuse that you had some kind of bug and that your doctor told you that it would be best for you to stay bedridden. Thankfully, they bought it—you didn’t need the constant reminder of why you were acting like someone died. 

“Hey, I know you don’t care about anyone from Jinyoung’s group of friends, but did you happen to see Mark’s girlfriend yet? She��s here for spring break. She’s so pretty; I don’t understand why she would want to come to a university on her vacation, but maybe she just wants to spend time with her boyfriend no matter what it is that they do. They’re so cute together.” 

Everything your best friend was telling you about Mark and Aubrey felt like a punch to the gut. Every single word twisted your heart and you began to grow lightheaded. So that’s why he didn’t come after you that night; maybe she told him she was coming to visit him. He didn’t need you anymore—he’d have someone, his someone in particular to give him his fill. He might have been cheating on her, but you didn’t think he’d be the type to sleep with two different girls at the same time—then again, it would probably raise his confidence levels in such an obnoxious way. 

If only your friend knew how much her words were taking over your mind—how much they were ruining you and slowly tearing you apart. You wanted to cry—you felt like screaming to get her to stop. She had no idea about your relationship with Mark, so it wasn’t as though she was trying to make you feel bad. Even if she did know, she wouldn’t do anything to hurt your feelings—although, she would have been upset to hear about your poor choices. 

“I—uh—no. I’ve only been here for about ten minutes so—I wouldn’t know. Cool. I should get going. I’ve already missed out on so much—I’ll call you later.” 

You wasted no time briskly heading to your first class. Honestly, you didn’t even want to go anymore. Coming to school was a mistake—what was another day of missing class? You’ve been doing your work online; there was really no reason to be there other than for attendance purposes. You didn’t feel like you learned anything anyway, so there was really no point at all. You mentally cursed yourself at your negative thoughts—this was all Mark’s fault. Before him, you genuinely enjoyed school. 

Your education meant everything to you. Whenever you were assigned homework—you completed it before your next day of class. Some of your professors complimented your on your work ethic and your English professor even asked you to become their TA because you were always so on top of things. Now, you couldn’t wait for school to be over with and you didn’t even care whether or not you passed any of your classes this semester. 

Nothing mattered to you anymore and it was so disheartening that you allowed a stupid asshole to have this effect on you. To flip your world upside down and make you hate everything that used to bring you so much joy and contentment. You were busy trying to avoid people in the hallway and you couldn’t care less about whether or not you ended up bumping in to someone. Today was just not your day and if people were smart, they’d stay far away from you.  

Your phone began to ring, and when you saw that one of your other friends were trying to get in touch with you, you were debating on answering. Human interaction wasn’t something you wanted to put up with for the rest of your time on campus. Everything was all too much for you to take in. The idea of Mark—introducing Aubrey to everyone as his girlfriend, the risk of seeing them together—kissing, holding hands, hugging, acting sweet to one another, it was messing with your head. 

Heard you’re back, if you’re free right now, did you want to get some coffee?

The word no was at the tip of your tongue—you were afraid that you’d give yourself away if you showed any sort of emotion that proved you weren’t sick at all. However, you loved coffee and you were sure it would be the only kind of positivity you’d be able to have at all today so you were going to take what you could get. 

It didn’t take too long for you to reach the coffee shop—there were three spread throughout campus, so you made your way over to where your friend said to meet them. You put in your headphones and blasted your playlist of sad songs—most people would try to steer clear of melancholic music while they were going through such a difficult time but it actually brought you peace. Some weird, twisted kind of peace but nonetheless, it helped you cope with the pain that Mark’s sudden absence left on you. The smell of coffee was soon ridding you of your anxiety and you were quick to see your friend towards the back of the shop. She waved you down and you acknowledged her before getting in line to place your order. 

“Next in line.” 

You gave a soft smile to the barista and gave him your order—going with a large caramel macchiato with three shots of espresso, you were in need of caffeine in the hopes that it would give you enough energy to last through three classes. When you pulled to the side and began to scroll through Instagram, your friend sent you a playful text message about how she was glad that you went with the biggest size, you were definitely going to need it. 

“I have a grande matcha latte and a venti iced americano with almond milk for Aubrey—“ 

Your heart felt as if it was about to combust out of your chest at the sound of her name. Sure, there could have been multiple Aubrey’s on your campus. It wasn’t an uncommon name—but you knew the americano was Mark’s go to beverage. He was lactose intolerant and the first time you went to get coffee together, he told you that americanos helped him stay awake. You didn’t want to look up—you were afraid of seeing her or worse—seeing him. 

Life could be a bitch sometimes. Maybe this was your karma for fooling around with someone who was already taken. You couldn’t help it, you lifted your head up to see the girl who owned the heart of the man who owned yours and you ultimately regretted doing so. She was beautiful—there was no doubt about it. No matter how much you wanted to be bitter and say that she was ugly or that you couldn’t understand what Mark saw in her, you knew that was far from the truth. You’ve only seen a few pictures on her Instagram when you accidentally stumbled upon her account one day but her pictures didn’t do her justice at all. Her long brown hair was in big, bouncy waves.

She was wearing a red, summer dress with a pair of heels. You could feel yourself choking up at the sight of her and all her beauty and you began to mentally scold yourself for not putting any effort in to your outfit at all today. But what did it matter? At the end of the day, it was her who got to say that Mark was her person. She got to tell people with confidence that they were a couple while you had to hide behind the cafeteria or shopping malls in the fear of anyone recognizing the two of you. 

She grabbed the two drinks and made her way to a table near where your friend was sitting. Out of all the places that she could have decided to meet you, it just had to be the same place that Mark’s girlfriend was currently at all the while waiting for him. Was it too late for you to come up with an excuse as to why you couldn’t stay for too long? Surely she’d be able to understand right? 

There was no way you could be able to withstand being in the same room with the man that ripped your heart from out of your chest and threw it on the ground right in front of you—stepping on it like a used cigarette. That’s all you were to him—a cigarette. You were bad for him—but he was addicted to you and he used you only when it was beneficial to him. Just like the way smoking addicts would turn to cigarettes for stress relief, Mark would come to you for a way to release any pent up frustration and just like when the cigarette burns out and the high is over, you’re thrown to the ground and discarded until he needed another hit. 

“Y/n, I have your venti caramel macchiato.” 

Your hands were shaking and all the wind was knocked out of you. After politely thanking the barista, you took in a deep breath as you sauntered to the direction of your friend. You began to plan out ways to escape this unfortunate situation you found yourself in. Fate must’ve had something against you; this wasn’t a coincidence that you’d be in the same exact place at the same exact time as the both of them. This was your payback—your punishment and you were just going to have to take it like a big girl. 

“Hey y/n. I’m so happy to see you again, although, from what everyone who has seen you has told me so far, you really don’t look too good. Maybe you should have asked your doctor to give you a few more days off—“

“I’m fine, really. I can’t afford to miss out on any more school or else I won’t graduate on time. Don’t worry about me. Let’s talk about you, inform me on everything I missed.” 

As she began to tell you about how her life was going and how much you missed out on so many fun outings, everything she was saying went through one ear and out the other. Thankfully, your back was facing where Aubrey was sitting. You were sure if you were able to see her, you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes off of her. Your friend continued to explain the crisis she was experiencing with one of her AP classes and you felt bad for not giving a shit at all. You tried to muster any kind of response and you could tell your “oh really?” and your “that sucks” were completely insincere, but if she noticed anything out of the ordinary—she didn’t say anything. 

You didn’t think anything of the chime of the front door, but something in your chest—probably the fact that you grew accustomed to the distinct sound of Mark’s footsteps made it known that he was now there and your suspicions were soon answered when he spoke up. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late. My professor held us back for five minutes. You weren’t waiting too long were you?” She giggled softly at her apology and it had to be the green monster of jealous on your back that was growing annoyed at the sound. 

“No. I just got our drinks. So how was class baby?” 

The term of endearment made your skin crawl—baby. You used to call him that; but then again, it was only when you were fucking him. Only once did you ever call him baby other than when you were having your fun together and he never really reacted to it. He must’ve been used to hearing you say it during your many hookups that it was second nature to you. You couldn’t handle staying in the coffee shop for a minute longer—you were afraid that something inside of you would get you to walked over to their table and tell her everything. 

Mark didn’t deserve to have a happy ending—not after all that he’s put you through. If you had to suffer, so did he. But you weren’t like that. You weren’t a terrible, heartless person no matter how much you wanted to be. You wanted to hurt him—break him—ruin him the way he so easily did to you. You wanted every single one of his thoughts to be filled with you and how he played you. Your mind was begging you to leave—the last thing you needed was to make a fool out of yourself and who knew? He could pretend that he had no idea what you were talking about and make you seem like the biggest idiot ever. 

“Hey, I actually planned on talking to my physics professor about missing assignments so I think I’m going to head out. Sorry about that.” The younger girl shook her head before giving your hand a comforting squeeze. 

“You’re fine! Don’t stay away from us any longer okay? We’re only young once, let’s make the most of what we still can.” 

You mirrored her expression and nonverbally agreed before picking up your books and your bag. Right as you said your goodbyes, you abruptly turned around and collided with a body. Not just any body—the body you’ve grown so familiar with in the last half a year. The body that made you feel so safe, so comforted, so happy and so serene. The body you’ve missed more than anything—Mark.

“I’m so sorry I should have looked where I was going—y/n?” 

Hearing him say your name again after almost an entire month of not seeing or hearing from him sent you through so many different emotions and you felt like you were on the verge of both throwing up and crying. It wasn’t a sensation you were used to nor did you ever want to get used to it. You just wanted to get the hell out of there. You didn’t even look up at him; your initial instinct would probably be to either punch him or to kiss him and both options would bring you so many problems. 

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me—“ you attempted to walk away from him; being this close in proximity to him was suffocating. Your chest felt heavy and you were growing nauseous. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry—that night—I can explain—“

“There’s nothing for you to explain Mark. I’d watch myself if I were you. Your girlfriend is right over there. You’re not as quiet as you think you are, I don’t even know why you’re talking to me or what you feel the need to explain yourself. What we had is over. You and I are over, so there’s no need—“

“Please, we need to talk. I need to tell you something—“ 

Now would be a good time to just bring your fist up and force it against his cheek. Did he hear himself? He was gone—he stayed away for weeks. He made you feel like complete and utter shit. He didn’t fight for you or your relationship—he didn’t beg you to stay nor did he try to stop you at all. Seeing him right now, you noticed that you were more angry with him than you were missing him. Did he really think that you were going to take him back with open arms as though the last three weeks of hell that you suffered through never happened at all? Did he think you were that stupid and that desperate enough to go crawling back to him with the snap of a finger? 

He knew that he had the power to get you to come running to him even if he didn’t try to stop you that night. If you were to tell him why you were so angry with the fact that she interrupted your time with him, he would have seen right through you. If Mark had any kind of common sense, he would be able to pick up on the fact that it had nothing to do about being interrupted during sex. You wanted to laugh sarcastically—his girlfriend was a mere five feet away, he was truly unbelievable. 

“Your silence that night spoke volumes for you so I think it’s best if we pretend like what we had never happened at all. You better go return back to her or else she’ll know something is up. I meant what I said when I left you, I no longer want to be apart of your life if my place—my presence isn’t as much of a priority as yours is in mine. Now, before I end up walking over there and telling her exactly who you are and who I was to you, be smart and leave it as it is.” 

You shoved passed him and walked out of the shop with so much weight off of your shoulders. Telling him off felt amazing; there was so much more you wish you could have said, but you already felt eyes on the two of you and you didn’t want to bring any more attention to the two of you. You were sure your friend must’ve saw the entire exchange go down and she would most likely have a lot of questions, but you didn’t care about anything at all—your mind was set on going back home. 

Sleep sounded so good right now and as much as running away from your problems wasn’t ideal, you deserved some rest. You didn’t even attend one class and you were in more or less words exhausted to the tenth degree. The image of him begging for you to hear him out with just his eyes alone was now imprinted in the back of your mind. Mark was never a man of words—not with you. He preferred using actions and you liked it that way. 

But now, those actions were being used against you, not for you. There was something inside of you; pleading for you to hear him out—you knew it was the part that still loved him wholeheartedly. You wanted to give up your pride—you were proud of yourself for standing your ground, but there was a hole in your heart that could only be filled by Mark himself. As you started walking towards your car, you felt your phone vibrate in your bag and it didn’t take a genius to know who might have been texting you. 

That was who he was; Mark was insufferable. He was the type who wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted and if he wanted to talk to you, he was going to do anything and everything in his power to get you to listen. You contemplated taking a glance at your phone for quite some time. It was tempting; what if he decided to just confess everything since you weren’t willing to let him talk to you in person? There was really no harm in looking at his messages; you just weren’t going to respond. If you even sent a simple “back off” you were allowing him to continue sticking around in your life. By not responding at all, you’re giving him an answer. 

Getting over him completely was going to take some time, but you owed it to yourself to be released from the confines of Mark’s hold that he had on you. There were so many other men out there; men who didn’t come with baggage. Men who were both physically and theoretically available. Men who would love you—only you. Men you didn’t have to worry about their place in your life or your place in theirs. You bit your lip in anticipation; what was there left for him to say or do after you practically shunned him from your life? He might have believed he wasn’t going to give up this time without a fight; you probably did damage to his ego but your mind was set. 

You were done with Mark Tuan, for good.

Mark: I love you and I’m sorry. 11:25 A.M.

'Cause you weren't mine to lose

[skinnyziamlove]

i've always wanted to make a fic rec but i never got the chance, but yesterday some friends (@introvertedbitch2302 and @liamislife​) asked if i could recommend them some of my favorite fics and i got all excited and here i'm !!!!

these fics are my precious babies and i love them all so they are not in a specific order (and please be aware of the trigger warnings in the tags before you read them):

Just the two of us and a cute little cup of cyanide

Or an I-accidentally-married-my-best-mate-in-Vegas fic, where Liam's completely oblivious, Zayn's completely in love, Harry's had enough, Louis plays mediator and Niall just wants his best friends to be with each other.

The Underdogs

Zayn Malik hates everything about winter. He hates the snow, he hates scraping the ice from his car, he hates freezing every time he steps outside, he hates wearing hats and heavy jackets. In fact, the only thing he doesn't hate about it are his hockey player buddies and his childhood best friend, Liam Payne, the teenage star hockey player and captain of their small town team.

Good Thing At a Bad Time

Zayn prefers to be on his own. It's easier to survive when you don't have to worry about anyone else. Liam leads a large group of people that have taken residence in an abandoned prison. When Zayn wakes up in a prison cell, all he can think about is finding a way out. Liam makes him want to stay.

I See You Babe, But We Are Both Blind

Zayn's fairly certain the world actually hates him. He's got the shittiest luck, and fate seems to want to fuck with him. But maybe that's exactly what he needs.

One Direction returns to London for a break from their Take Me Home Tour in August 2013, and after an unfortunate run-in at a coffee shop, Liam and Zayn find themselves in a fake relationship. Except, it ends up not feeling fake at all.

through the summertime, winter, spring, and fall

They change with the seasons, burning bright during the summer and biting cold during the winter, but that feeling of being in love Zayn found in the summer clings to him through it all.

Angel of Mine

"I'm Zayn, a third year english student, it's my first time here and," he swallows, throat thick with nervousness, "I guess I'm here ‘cause I'm an alcoholic."

Zayn is a recovering alcoholic and Liam is his sponsor.

Die Young, Stay Pretty

Zayn is happy being a hairdresser who minds his own business; that is, until someone called "Liam" has to come in, dragging his friend on the back of a bet. And, really, Zayn didn't stand a chance.

It's Always Darkest Before The Dawn

At a time in his life when Zayn thinks he has forgotten what genuine happiness feels like, Liam comes into the picture and changes everything.

Mad About the Boys

Or: Five times Zayn and Liam cheat Death and then one more time for good measure.

But You Held the Ice

Every time Zayn gets hurt, Liam is there.

Everything On You Intoxicates

Where Zayn maybe stalks that fit guy from his Intro to Lit class on Instagram.

Tangled Up in You

It turns out Zayn’s flatmate is essentially a disney prince. Zayn wonders how this became his life.

kill monsters in the rain

A story where Liam can't get over how great Zayn is at singing and drawing and pretty much everything, how just being near Zayn is enough to make Liam's life a hundred times better, how lucky Liam is to have a best friend just as dedicated to pretending to be a superhero as he is.

it keeps my veins hot (the fire's found a home in me)

or the one where zayn survives a fire and falls in love with the firefighter that saved him.

This Swirling Storm Inside

Or Frozen AU in which Zayn is the heir to the kingdom of Arendelle. He's also trans, and his lifelong dysphoria is finally reaching a breaking point.

I'll Be Strong For You

When Zayn breaks his leg attempting to skateboard over Harry's car, he ends up stuck in the hospital for two weeks. The only thing he doesn't hate about the hospital is the gorgeous volunteer, Liam, who is almost annoyingly sunny and happy. But Liam's got a secret a secret hidden behind his impossibly bright smile.

And You Know For Me, It's Always You

The Gilmore Girls AU I thought would be a good idea and it turns out, it was.

Beautiful Monster

Or, Zayn is a homeless vampire who, unbeknownst to Liam, has been routinely breaking into Liam's van for a warm place to sleep. When Liam catches him in the act things end up going in a direction no one expected. And then shit gets weirder. Because Liam might also be hiding some secrets of his own...

Z.A.Y.N

For six years, international R&B star Liam Payne has topped the charts with his unique, upbeat songs. Even though he’s proud of where he’s gotten himself, he knows he can’t take all the credit; there’s one particular songwriter that goes by the name ‘Icarus Kalim’ that’s played a huge part in his success. Because of the writer’s ability to craft thought provoking tracks that touch Liam in a way he didn’t even know was possible from afar, the celebrity makes a musical exception for ‘Icarus’, buying the man’s songs for himself, even though he swore he would never put his name on something he had no help in creating. But what happens when Liam finally tricks the soulful poet into meeting him after years of not even knowing what the man looks like? Is ‘Icarus’ really all Liam’s made him out to be in his head or will he be unlike anything the singer could’ve ever dreamt up…

I'm Almost Me Again, He's Almost You

(Or, where Liam searches across time and space for the answer to the question: Who the fuck is Zayn?)

A Full Course Meal

Liam had been dreaming about having his own restaurant for a few years. Money was always an issue, though, so when he heard the Food Network was recording a few episodes of Chopped in his city, he let his best friend talk him into participating.

Many things could go wrong along the way; from ruthless rivals to impossible ingredients, from unforgiving judges to his own mind getting in the way.

He spent long nights fretting about the possibilities and still, he never could have guessed what Chopped really had in store for him.

My Lungs and Your Lilac Eyes

This is a love story. It’s an accident, mostly. Nearly all of them are.

You're My Favorite Story

A zombie outbreak leaves Liam teamed up with Zayn, a stranger with a motorcycle who saves Liam's life. Their world has been turned upside down, and all they really have is each other.

Let's Be Alone Together

After getting his heart broken, Liam escapes his life in London by boarding a plane to Amsterdam. Along the way, he finds someone just as lost as him. Together they might just be able to find themselves.

Money Moves

~Fake Engagement AU with Boss!Liam and Secretary!Zayn ~

in the sun

"This man might wander into my dreams, too, some night. Wouldn’t it be nice, if I could pretend we’d met before? I’ve waited a long time, for such a lord.”

Be cruel to me ('cause I'm a fool for you)

Or the one where Zayn is a stressed out single dad, Liam might just be what he needs, Louis and Niall are always happy to babysit and Harry's a loud snorer.

powerless (and i don't care it's obvious)

"Or the one where Zayn and Liam are in love, Liam has another bro female pal that might have been his beard in high school, Zayn has heartbroken sorta past, Liam is a superhero, Louis and Harry are disgustingly in love as Liam and Zayn are and Liam's friends just want him to not-be-a-virgin anymore.)

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 18: Summers In Florence] [Series Finale]

A/N: If it doesn’t end with a wedding, is it even my fic??! 😂 For those who somehow haven’t yet read Baby You Were My Picket Fence (my most popular series), you might be a tiny bit confused during this chapter. Just roll with it. 😉 Also, COVID-19 doesn’t exist. What a wonderful world. Thank you so much for sticking with me and BYCNL. I love you all. 💜

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​ @simonedk​ @herewegoagainniall​ @anotheronewritesthedust1​ @pomjompish​ @writerxinthedark​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​ @allauraleigh​ ​@deakydeacy @bluutac​ @johndeaconshands​ @nyxaura​

It’s May 25th, 1984, and Roger and John are in Perth, Australia to promote Queen’s eleventh album, The Works.

Interviewer, daytime television host Ronald Inglewood: “Good morning and welcome to our viewers across Australia! We’re sitting down this morning with Roger Taylor and John Deacon, respectively the drummer and bassist of Queen, who are here to talk about the band’s brand new album called—quite self-assuredly, if I may say so, gentlemen—The Works. Hello to you both.”

Roger: “Good morning, Ron!”

John: “Hello.”

Interviewer: “And this latest album has been rather well-received so far, is that right?”

Roger: “It has, yes, and we’re enormously proud of it.”

Interviewer: “Now, The Works is a very different album than Hot Space, Queen’s sort of notorious foray into disco...do you think the back-to-basics, classic rock and roll feel of The Works has been the driving force behind its success?”

Roger: “Well, you know...I think experimentation is very important. We’ve always been an experimental band. The single Bohemian Rhapsody was hugely experimental, and that’s why it was such a phenomenon. We were experimenting long before A Night At The Opera, and I suspect we’ll keep on trying new things until we run out of ideas, whenever that is! I didn’t love every song on Hot Space, I’ll be completely transparent about that, but I certainly don’t think the album was a failure or a waste of time. It was an experiment. And The Works is an experiment as well, just one that runs in a different vein, I suppose.”

John: “Some people did actually enjoy Hot Space.”

Roger: “I think I know one or two.”

Interviewer: “Of course, it did have its bright spots. Under Pressure remains one of Queen’s biggest hits, doesn’t it?”

Roger: “Yes, and John wrote the bassline for that one!”

Interviewer: “Really?!”

John: “And Roger has his own hit on The Works, at last. We’re all very happy for him.”

Roger: “Only took ten years.”

John: “Fourteen, actually.”

Roger: “I’m going to murder you as soon as we get backstage.”

John: “You’re welcome to try.”

Interviewer: “Now this hit of yours, Roger, is Radio Ga Ga. And I’m sure we’ve all seen the famous music video, the hovercraft, the futurism, the clapping...we’ve all seen it, right? Where on earth did you get the idea for that song?”

Roger: “It actually originated from something I heard my daughter Violet say.”

Interviewer: “Fascinating! And you’ve just welcomed another one recently, haven’t you?”

Roger: “Yes, last month, in fact. A little girl named Nora. “

Interviewer: “Congratulations!”

Roger: “Thanks so much, Ron. Our eldest, Violet, turned two in January, and the idea for Radio Ga Ga came about when she was first learning to talk. She would always stumble around—you know how babies do—clapping her hands and squealing the most nonsensical things, and one day she started trying out ‘radio’ and then adding random words to it, ‘radio goo goo,’ ‘radio mama,’ ‘radio dada,’ etcetera. Well ‘radio ga ga’ got stuck in my head and I started sort of lamenting how television had begun to eclipse the radio as a medium for music and entertainment. We were on vacation in California at the time, and I locked myself in a hotel room with a keyboard and a drum machine to get it written. I initially thought it might end up on one of my solo albums, but then John heard it and wrote a bassline, and Freddie really thought it could be a hit and pushed to have it on The Works...and here we are today!”

Interviewer: “That Freddie Mercury has awfully good instincts about these things, doesn’t he?”

John: “Oh, he’s a genius, no doubt about that.”

Interviewer: “And John, I understand you wrote the other single released from The Works, I Want To Break Free. Any deep philosophical messaging in that one?”  

John: “Well I suppose we’ve all been in situations that feel...rather constraining or hopeless. And then things that bring us back to life again. So this song is about a character going through that process and coming out on the other side.”

Interviewer: “Indeed.”

John: “But we wanted to keep things amusing and lighthearted in the music video, hence the dressing in drag bit. And to our absolute horror, Roger was very alluring as a schoolgirl.”

Roger: “It’s true. I have irresistible legs. I was born to wear miniskirts.”

Interviewer: “Ah, this is the music video that is beloved in Europe and here in Australia but has stirred up so much controversy over in the States. Has the hullabaloo dampened your enthusiasm for the song, or even the entire album, somewhat?”

Roger: “We’re not bothered much at all, to be honest with you. It’s like I said, Queen is always going to have fun and experiment and take creative risks. And if people don’t like it, then they’re welcome to not listen.”

Interviewer: “Yes, yes, I suppose you could say that.”

Roger: “Americans, you know, they can just be so bloody puritanical. It absolutely takes all the enjoyment out of life. All the humor. Americans these days can be very difficult for us to connect with.”

John: “Well, not all of them.”

Roger: “No, of course, not all of them.”

John: “But we’ll start touring at the end of August, and we’ll be spending several months in the States, so they have time to come around to us. We’re all really looking forward to being on the road again.”

Interviewer: “It has certainly been and will continue to be a very eventful year for Queen. And for the four of you personally. A new baby for Roger, and you’ve just gotten married, haven’t you John?”

John: “I did, yes. And Roger was in attendance! No miniskirt that day, though. Sadly.”

Roger: “The whole band was there. And my girlfriend and children too. It was quite a party.”

Interviewer: “That’s wonderful to hear, considering the...the...well, not to bring up tabloid gossip, but the complexity of the situation. It was a destination wedding, wasn’t it?”

John: “Yes, we were married in the Basilica di Santa Croce in Florence, Italy. It’s breathtaking, the largest Franciscan church in the world, built in the 1300s. And we filled it with friends and family and live music and flowers and food...all the trappings. Took about a million photos. Celebrated until dawn.”

Roger: “It was a very sentimental occasion. Everyone really enjoyed it. John cried.”

John: “I did, it’s true.”

Roger: “He promised he wouldn’t and then he did.”

John: “Well, you don’t have to bring it up all the time!”

Roger: “It was touching, really.”

Interviewer: “It must have been a magical time. You’re positively radiant, John! Marvelous. And some much-needed good news, I imagine. I understand you’ve recently gone through an exceptionally antagonistic and protracted divorce.”

John: “Well...uh...I suppose that’s...uh...”

Roger: “How about we ask you the same thing? How was your divorce, Ron?”

Interviewer: “What?”

Roger: “You’re on your third marriage, is that right? And I think I heard that the latest Mrs. Inglewood is very young indeed, almost thirty years your junior. How did your former wife take that news? How did your adult children? How was your goddamn divorce?”

Interviewer: “That’s a rude question.”

Roger: “Yes, you’re right, it’s an extremely rude question. So you shouldn’t fucking ask it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s December 25th, 1986, and the children are tearing open presents under a fifteen-foot-tall Christmas tree in the living room of Garden Lodge.

Freddie and Jim Hutton are serving cookies and milk and clapping their hands as they tower over tiny shoulders, cheering the kids on as they litter the floor with wrapping paper and bows and scatter their new toys everywhere: Care Bears, Magic 8 Balls, My Little Ponies, Mr. Potato Heads, Barbies, Etch-A-Sketches, Transformers, miniature Lukes and Leias and Chewbaccas, View-Masters with scenes of oceans and deserts and forests and stars. With so many fragmented families, there was only one logical approach to handling major holidays: convincing everyone to celebrate together on neutral ground.

Mary and Veronica are chatting by the roaring fireplace. Phoebe, Joe Fanelli, John, and Roger are embroiled in a brutally competitive Scrabble game; Dominique, smirking stealthily, leans over Roger to read his tiles and periodically whispers ideas to him. Brian and Anita are circling the flock of giggling children—Laszlo, Anna, Teddy, Evelyn, Lena, Antoni, Violet, and Nora—and snapping photos with your Canon between long, yearning gazes at one another, wearing matching Christmas sweaters that are a deep, passionate crimson. Chrissie’s husband Denny is admiring Freddie’s extensive vinyl record collection as he sips a hot chocolate and compulsively strokes his green-and-red striped tie. Tiffany the cat rolls around between his feet and occasionally hisses or gnaws on an ankle, which Denny takes in stride, as he does most things.

Meanwhile, you and Chrissie are camped out by the wet bar, drinking mulled wine and nibbling on cookies shaped like snowmen and reindeer. You give Veronica a wide berth with the children anytime you’re in the same space; she hates you, and she’ll probably always hate you, but she loves her children too much to poison them with that reality. Their happiness is her whole life, her purpose. And that’s the only thing that finally convinced her to come to the bargaining table.

“She seems...nice,” you tell Chrissie, gesturing to where Anita is crouching to wrestle a Yoda piggy bank away from Antoni before he can lob Teddy on the head with it. To John’s children, Veronica is “mum” and you’re the distinctly more American “mama”; and no one ever really taught them that, they just started doing it somewhere along the way.

Chrissie rolls her eyes and shifts Stevie to her other hip. For two and a half years after leaving Brian, Chrissie made it her mission to date at least one man from every country in Europe. She managed to cross off Ireland, France, Germany, Austria, Italy, Sweden, Switzerland, Portugal, Poland, and Greece before meeting professional archer Dennis Clarke at the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles. They got engaged at Christmas, eloped on New Year’s Day, and had a daughter that Chrissie named after Stevie Nicks nine months later. Stevie Clarke has adorably chubby baby legs, wide blue eyes, and blonde hair without a single spiraled ringlet.

“My therapist said I needed to cultivate a rapport with Brian for the good of the kids,” Chrissie says. “You know. Be the bigger person. Get amnesia and forget about how he made my life a living hell. Act like I don’t want to freaking decapitate him. So I, trying to be nice, trying to rise above and make polite small talk with my nauseating ex-husband, made a comment about how much I liked EastEnders. So he starts watching EastEnders. Then he begins to fancy one of the actresses. Then he meets her at a movie premier in Beverly Hills and invites her to the concert at Wembley. Then he ends up in love with the woman. What the fuck. You couldn’t write this shit.”

“Love is a roulette wheel,” you agree.

Chrissie scoffs sardonically. “Yeah. Russian roulette, maybe.”

After his marriage fell apart, Brian bounced between New Orleans and London, liberated bliss and aimless, disgraced, black depression. Whoever Peaches is as a person, she couldn’t tame Brian’s demons. You worried about him almost constantly until he started seeing Anita. She’s cheerful and magnetic and persistently hopeful in a way that reminds you of Roger. She’s good for Brian. She’s good for all of you. Well...Chrissie is still coming around to the idea.

“I do like that she wasn’t fucking my husband behind my back,” Chrissie muses. “So that’s something.”

“And she’s good with the kids.”

“True...”

“And her hair matches Brian’s.”

Chrissie laughs. Her sparkling ornament earrings jangle, and Stevie paws for them with minuscule, uncoordinated, wrinkly hands. “Okay. You win. I don’t despise her.”

“That’s the Christmas spirit.” You knock back the rest of your mulled wine. “I’m gonna go search the refrigerator for cheese cubes, you want anything?”

“Yeah, a Valium.”

“Slavic Jesus would be horrified. And on his birthday!”

Chrissie grins. “Surely drugs would be the least of our sins.”

Freddie’s sunshine-yellow refrigerator is enormous and a labyrinth of shelves and crevices without a single tray of cheese cubes in sight. You sift through jars of olives, bottles of champagne, a glazed ham waiting to be put in the oven, a sack of yams, eggnog, rising bread dough, and numerous pies—apple and cherry and lemon chiffon, naturally—swathed in aluminum foil.

“Damn,” you mutter, and then you try a mysterious drawer beneath the double doors of the refrigerator. Lo and behold, it contains a sprawling tray of cheeses. “Yaaaaassssss.” You lift the tray out, set it on the kitchen counter, and peel back the clear, clinging saran wrap. As you spear cheese cubes with a decorative toothpick—the handle is a little plastic Christmas tree—and plop them onto an appetizer plate, you hear the click of heels on the hardwood floor behind you.

You glance back. “Hi, Dom. Can I offer you any of Fred’s extremely expensive and exotic cheeses?”

“Sure,” she replies in that effortlessly elegant French accent; but that’s not why she’s here. She’s wringing her delicate hands, which are bronzed from her last holiday to Ibiza and ringless. Dom divorced the husband she had back in France—or maybe he divorced her, who knows, that’s not your business, although Roger would tell you if you ever asked—and she and Roger signed papers for the good of their daughters. But being Roger Taylor’s wife is not always such an easy thing.

“He’s getting bad again, isn’t he?” you ask softly.

Dominique nods; but you already knew.

Roger was perfect for years after they had Violet: attentive, content, startlingly domestic. He rarely popped pills. He went to physical therapy. He quit smoking six months ago at Dominique’s insistence, around the same time John quit for you. But since the Magic Tour ended in August—and with no new tour in sight, considering Freddie’s seeming reticence about scheduling another—he’s started to drink more, stay home less, disappear at night citing dinners or parties or recording sessions that Dom isn’t invited to. He’s edgy and irritable. He’s rarely home when John calls. And you can see all those immortal shadows of imperfection creeping back into him like storm clouds, like smoke.

“I’m going to tell you something,” you say. “It’s very similar to what somebody else once told me. I wasn’t ready to understand it yet, to really let myself feel it, to believe it, but you might be able to.”

She watches you with those vast oil-well eyes, biting her lower lip, waiting.

“Roger is wildfire. He’s bright, yes, he’s warm, but he’s reckless and insatiable too. He always has been. He always will be. And that has nothing at all to do with you. It’s not your fault. He’s wonderful, of course, and you already know that; he dazzles people, he makes life so exhilaratingly beautiful that you forget what it felt like without him. But he’ll always disappoint you. He’ll relapse, he’ll cheat, he’ll come home late, he won’t come home at all. And he’ll hurt you. He’ll do it as many times as you’ll let him. But here’s the thing other people won’t tell you.” You smile at her, with empathy, with sorrow, with hope. “It might still be worth it.”

Dominique blinks, not understanding.

“It might be enough for you to only ever have part of him, because that part is so incredibly brilliant. It was almost enough for me. And I would never blame you for leaving Roger. But I wouldn’t blame you for staying either.”

And then you embrace her, and she latches onto you, her long manicured nails nipping through your sweater, her Coco Chanel perfume a plume that fills the kitchen. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. You hold her until she pulls away, swiping at her tearing eyes with slim fragile fingers, sniffling, looking away to hide her heartbreak behind her shock of glossy bangs.

“Here.” You pile an appetizer plate high with cheese cubes and shove it into her hands.

Stunned, she giggles. “All my woes have vanished.”

“That’s exactly how stolen cheese works,” And then, seriously: “Don’t be sad on Christmas, Dom. There’s plenty of time for that later. And I’ll do everything I can to help him.”

“That’s why you’ll never leave the band, isn’t it? You can’t leave Roger alone. You can’t let him destroy himself.”

“I owe him,” you say simply. “Without him I never would have followed Queen to London. I never would have found this family. I never would have married John. Roger took things from me, yes, of course he did. He took until I felt empty. But he also gave me the world.”

She nods slowly, thoughtfully.

“Please, Dom. Go enjoy yourself.”

“Alright. Joyeux Noël.” She gives you a parting wave and slips back out into the living room, where Freddie is now playing the grand piano and signing Thank God It’s Christmas. Roger is assisting in an increasingly hoarse falsetto.

A moment after Dominique leaves, John strolls into the kitchen, humming merrily. He stops dead when he sees your somber face, your shining eyes. “Who do I have to fuck up?”

You chuckle and shake your head. “No one. I just heard something sad.”

“Not about you, I hope.”

“No, I don’t have many sad stories anymore.”

“Yeah, me either.”

He reaches out to take your hand. A sapphire glints on your left ring finger, and it means everything.

“You sure you don’t need me to torment anyone for you? I could get drunk and plow my Benz into their house. Or write a scathing diss track about them. Was it Brian? Please tell me it was Brian.”

You laugh and twirl a lock of his fluffy hair. “That won’t be necessary.”

“In that case, you’re needed in the living room immediately,” John says, smiling. “Antoni climbed halfway up the Christmas tree and says he won’t come down for anyone except his mama.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s November 3rd, 1999, and Roger, John, and Brian are promoting Queen’s upcoming compilation album, Greatest Hits III.

Interviewer, daytime television host Brad Chenoweth: “Today we have a very special treat for our viewers. Here with us in our London studio are the men of Queen: guitarist Brian May, drummer Roger Taylor, and bassist John Deacon. Good morning, and thank you all so much for being here.”

Brian: “It’s our pleasure.”

Roger: “I do screams as well as drums, Brad.”

Interviewer: “Hahaha, yes, of course. Now Queen has had an extremely busy year, and this Greatest Hits album has a few new selections on it, right? Take us through that process.”

Brian: “It does have a few new tracks, that’s correct. You know, ever since Freddie...ever since we lost Freddie Mercury, I mean, you know, it’s impossible to fill a space like the one that he left in the world.”

Roger: “Yes, yes.”

Brian: “But as difficult as it was, after finally finishing Made In Heaven in 1995 and getting it just right, feeling as if we had really done Freddie justice...we were left with this distressing feeling of ‘what’s next?’ What are the three of us supposed to do with ourselves? Split up and never work together again? Retire to the seashore? Open up some corner store to putter around in until we die?”

Roger: “A clog shop, perhaps.”

Interviewer: “You were thinking, ‘well hell, we’ve got plenty of talent ourselves!’”

Roger: “Well, talent, yes, but also energy. Drive. We’ve been working at being one of the best bands in the world for almost thirty years now, Brad. I wouldn’t even know how to begin to stop.”

Brian: “None of us wanted to stop, we came to that realization. And so we’ve done a tremendous amount of benefit concerts and recording sessions with some of the best artists of our time, and I think people who listen to this album are really going to appreciate that. We’ve got a live version of Somebody to Love with George Michael, and The Show Must Go On with Elton John, he’s just lovely to work with...oh and a rap version of Another One Bites The Dust with Wyclef Jean, which John was not exactly a fan of. But we all have to learn to give and take, don’t we?”

Interviewer: “Absolutely, and I’m really looking forward to getting my hands on a copy of this record. Is there any chance Queen might settle on a permanent new front man one day?”

Roger: “If we can ever find somebody John likes enough!”

Interviewer: “But, truthfully...none of you wanted to quit after Freddie passed away? It was a unanimous decision to keep with it?”

Roger: “Essentially, yes. I mean I think it was an all or nothing deal, wasn’t it? If one of us left then that would throw the whole thing off. I was always adamant from very early on in the band’s lifetime that I wouldn’t be interested in continuing without John. And I couldn’t imagine him and Brian being left alone together, my god, there’d be literal bloodshed, someone’s throat would be cut within the hour, believe me.”

John: “We might have lasted a day or two. But yes, it was more or less unanimous.”

Interviewer: “Now you’ve always been known as the quiet, domestic one, John. You weren’t tempted by the thought of retirement? Not even for a moment?”

John: “Well...I think it depends on the circumstances, really. I like working, and I like touring and traveling a good part of the year. But I imagine I’d get very homesick if I was alone on the road. Fortunately, that’s not the case. So the thought of retirement didn’t appeal to me nearly as much as it might have otherwise.”

Interviewer: “That’s right, I understand that your wife has been Queen’s touring nurse for...how long now? Twenty years?”

John: “Since 1974, so that’s twenty-five years.”

Roger: “Wow. It’s been that long?!”

Brian: “Feels like yesterday, doesn’t it?”

Interviewer: “How lucky for you, John. And look, you’re beaming!”

Roger: “Get it together, Deaks.”

John: “I’m an astronomically lucky man. It’s like having home with you anywhere in the world.”

Roger: “She’s good for curing hangovers as well, so that’s useful. And she knits everyone hats.”

Interviewer: “And you’ve got children, haven’t you John?’

John: “Four from my first marriage, yes. They’re all adults now so they come to visit us quite often, especially when we’re travelling. It worked out beautifully really, because they’re very close to their mother, of course, but my wife and I got together when they were all still fairly young, and so she’s always been there for them as they’ve grown up. My youngest especially was a rather...how would you say it diplomatically? A spirited child. But he warmed to her right away.”

Brian: “All the children are still friendly with each other as well, mine and Roger’s and John’s.”

Interviewer: “One big happy family, huh?”

Roger: “There are still a good amount of screaming matches between us dads, to be completely forthcoming.”

John: “You have to keep things interesting.”

Roger: “Exactly!”

Interviewer: “Yes, one can sense that there are still plenty of egos in this room, even after all these years! Tell me, Queen is nearly three decades old now, a worldwide phenomenon, the second-bestselling artist in the UK of all time behind the Beatles...how have you stayed together for so long when most bands last only a fraction of Queen’s lifespan?”

John: “Well I think we’ve all, you know, for the good of the band we’ve all had to grow towards each other to bridge the disagreements and keep peace. For example, I’ve had to learn to be more communicative, more open to collaboration and change. I can be someone who’s very comfortable being in the background. But then I’m resentful if people don’t see my point of view, even if I haven’t properly expressed it. So I have certainly had to work on that quite a lot.”

Brian: “Yes, John, I think that’s very true. Personally, I’ve had to learn to not get lost in the details so much. I have a bad habit of getting so fixated on something that I cause a massive row over a vanishingly small aspect of a song that no one else will ever notice. It’s just not worth the strife. So I’ve really tried to avoid that. Although, I’ll admit it, I still occasionally cause my share of drama.”

John: “Oh, sure.”

Roger: “And I’ve had to work on being less...”

John: “Annoying?”

Brian: “Combative?”

Roger: “Fiery.”

John: “That’s one word for it.”

Interviewer: “Was there ever a time when Queen’s existence was in serious jeopardy? And if so, how did you pull through?”

Brian: “Well, to be perfectly honest, as a band we went through quite a difficult time in the early 80s. And then we did again in the early 90s. And on both occasions there was a real worry that Queen might be over and we would all go our separate ways. But what kept us together through that...and feel free to disagree, Rog, John, if you have a different perspective...but what I feel kept us together was this profound sense of family. Queen predates all of our marriages, our children, our successes in the music industry or otherwise. It has become a constant place of belonging in the midst of professional and personal turmoil. And now our partners and children have been integrated into that network as well, so even if an individual relationship is strained or falls apart, the gravity of the band keeps us all in a perpetual symbiotic orbit. And I don’t see that ever ending.”

John: “Yes, well, I suppose that about sums it up, doesn’t it?”

Roger: “Bleeding christ, Brian. ‘Perpetual symbiotic orbit.’ Just say we’re friends, you pretentious twit.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s August 19th, 2020, and John’s 69th birthday party is winding down as the sun dips lazily into the rust-colored western horizon.

You’re standing on the cobblestones in the garden behind the Surrey house. You had always thought it was too extravagant, too massive; it wasn’t until Roger sold it to you and John in the spring of 1982 that you realized it was the perfect size after all. Six bedrooms meant one for each of the children, one for you and John—the one with the blue-grey wallpaper and nautical decorations, to be exact—and the last for when Chrissie and Denny or Roger and Dom stay the night, which is fairly frequently. Your vacation home, where you and John spend most of the summer when Queen isn’t on tour, is a little country cottage in the sunlit Alpine hills of Florence, Italy. John designed it himself, every last detail; right down to the white picket fence grown over with ivy.

“Look what we got in the mail.” You hold up the invitation to show your husband, grinning, raising your eyebrows. “Guess we have to buy him another toaster.”

He reads the names on the shimmering cardstock patterned with jungle ferns and dinosaur footprints. Interesting choices. “Is Ben actually going through with it this time?”

“John!”

“Wasn’t he supposed to marry some Italian heiress or something?”

“Love can be complicated, Mr. Deacon,” you remind him.

When he smiles, crinkles spring up around his eyes. “Yes, I suppose it can be.”

“Ben Hardy’s having another wedding?” Chrissie calls over from where she’s shooting arrows at the archery targets set up in the backyard. Denny periodically steps in to correct the angle of her wrist or elbow. “And Queen’s invited this time?”

“Apparently,” you reply. “You could go too if you were still married to Brian.”

“Ha!” Chrissie cackles and looses an arrow. It hits damn near the bullseye. “Not worth it.”

“I’ll bring back all the scandalous gossip I can scrounge for you.”

“You better. What do the kids call it now? Spilling the tea? Spill all the tea, bitch.”

“Oh, kettles and kettles’ worth.”

“So a teapot,” John says. “Not another toaster. Maybe decorated with...” He squints at the invitation again. “What’s the theme? What do they like? Fossils? Brontosauruses?”

“Bizarre people,” Chrissie mutters.

“I’ll figure something out,” you say. “Something special. Something old.”

“John?” Brian shouts from the doorway that leads into the kitchen. Inside the refrigerator is covered with sketches and birthday cards and photographs curling and fading around the edges. “Anita and I are heading out now, can we get a hug goodbye?”

“Ugh,” John jokes. “Well, alright.” He gives you a wink as he trots off.

The Surrey house isn’t exactly roaring—John has never been one for crowds, and incidentally neither have you—but it is alive with his children and grandchildren and life-long friends. Not just his, you correct yourself. Ours.

Veronica—once Tetzlaff, then Deacon, then Tetzlaff again, and finally Kowalski—is not in attendance. You see her only at holidays and birthday celebrations for the kids and grandchildren, and even then only in passing. She is still cold towards you, resentful, extremely Catholic...although somewhat less dogmatic since her second husband Ivan, a former priest, left the Church to marry her. When the last of her children were grown, Veronica got certified to be a doula and now primarily serves unwed mothers seeking assistance from Catholic charities in London. She mentioned to Chrissie, who later told you, that something you had once done for her had inspired her to pursue it. That’s the only nice thing you’ve heard her say about you in almost forty years.

Roger wanders over to meet you, nursing a Heineken, stroking his white beard with his free hand. He and Dominique have always been off and on—including a few years in the late 80s when he moved out of their three-story Kensington townhouse and had a daughter called Adeline with some leggy, platinum blonde supermodel—but these days they’re mostly on. He and Dom had two children after their reconciliation: a son, Blaise, and a daughter named by Freddie after the Japanese word for tiger, Tora.

You gaze out into the sunset. Half of the garden is flooded with white calla lilies, a new bouquet for every February 15th since 1978.

“You’ll be sending back an RSVP in the affirmative?” Roger asks.

“Of course! Any excuse to visit the States. And I like Ben. Although he doesn’t look anything like you.”

He groans. “Those wigs, bloody hell.”

“It’s like they produced a whole movie just to have an excuse to make fun of your atrociously crunchy bleached hair.”

“And I bet you enjoyed that.”

“You deserved it.” When Freddie’s health began to fail and Queen stopped touring, you went back to school to get a degree in physical therapy. You and Roger have sessions three times a week, provided he’s on the wagon; and he usually is, nowadays. When he’s not, John’s the one to get the call from Dominique, and he hunts Roger down, convinces him to come home, works whatever quiet, soothing magic he carries around in his deep pacific blood. But right this moment, Roger is awfully quiet himself. His large, pale eyes—like clear water, like unraveling delphiniums, like the harmony that only comes when age burns away all those last entrenched talons of bitterness, of fear—skate over the calla lilies.

“Do you think things would have been different for us?” Roger asks softly. “If she had lived.”

It took you a long time to understand why Roger was in no hurry to get a divorce, to move you out of the Surrey house. They were the only ties he thought he had to anchor you to the band, to him. They were the only cards he thought he had to play to keep you in his life in any capacity. But John fixed that dilemma. He can fix just about anything, you’ve learned.

“No,” you tell Roger. “You would have worn me down eventually. You and your drinking and drugs and late nights and interminable recklessness. It might have taken longer, but we always would have ended. And John always would have been my home. She wouldn’t have kept us together. She just would have lived. And I wouldn’t have loved her for being a part of you. I would have loved her for whoever she was, whoever she grew up to be. But now I’ll never know who that would have been. I love the children I have, Roger, I do. But I still miss her, miss the person she would have been. It’s like chasing a shadow. It’s like a page of a book written in a language I can’t read. And it’s a feeling that never quite goes away.”

He smiles at you wearily, immensely sad, full of perfect understanding. “I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s October 10th, 2020, and the reception is held under shedding autumn leaves the color of rubies and imperial topaz and amber and yellow jade. The exuberant bride and groom weave through the crowds milling about the quaint farm, which is nestled in the hills of a small town in Northern California called Zenia. It belongs to Gwilym, apparently, and he and his flame-haired girlfriend Shiloh are shuttling tirelessly this way and that making sure everything goes according to plan. They don’t speak much to Ben or his new wife directly—there’s a stiltedness there, an uncomfortable period of readjustment that reminds you of how John and Roger were for a while after all the secrets came out—but there is undeniable kinship as well. Love can be complicated, you find yourself thinking, for the innumerable time. But that doesn’t mean it’s not real.

Making the rounds with the bride and groom is a strikingly beautiful, dark-haired boy who wears a miniature suit and a perpetual, mischievous grin. The new Mrs. Hardy almost always has her hand on his shoulder, his back, wiping cake frosting from his cheeks, ruffling his hair.

“Eli is kind of a demon kid,” Joe Mazzello warns you. “But in the best possible way.”

“Hm. I have somewhat of an affinity for demons myself.”

“Clearly,” Roger quips, sipping pink champagne. The snack table is Halloween-themed and extremely casual: Cheetos and pumpkin pie and caramel apples and dinosaur-shaped brownies. Per usual, you’re grazing through an orange paper plate stacked high with enough nibbling material to keep any undesirable small talk at bay. But strangely, in all of the times you’ve crossed his path since Bohemian Rhapsody’s filming began, you’ve never minded chatting with Joe.

“Yeah, you two were married at some point, right?” Joe asks. Then he immediately blanches. “Oh my god. That was so rude. I did not just say that. I’m so sorry. I saw it on Wikipedia. I’m gonna go drown myself in the stream now.”

“No, you’re right!” you admit in a peal of laughter. “Briefly and disastrously.”

“It wasn’t that disastrous,” Roger protests, thieving a Cheeto off your plate. He misplaced his prescription sunglasses on the flight over and is thus relatively helpless.

“Rude. Get your own. They’re over on the other end of the table.”

“I can’t see that far—!”

“Dom?” you call as she sashays over in a flowing white dress and licking a stick of orange rock candy. “Please control your husband.”

She smiles. “If I haven’t managed it yet, I don’t think there’s much hope.” She nods to Joe. “It’s so nice to see you again. Meeting you people was the only bright spot of that whole movie ordeal.”

“What, you didn’t fancy it?” Roger jests.

“At least they included you,” you tell Dom, smirking. “They ignored my existence entirely. They threw in some random woman with zero lines and called her Veronica in the credits. Whatever.”

Dom rolls her expressive umber eyes. “Yes, how flattering, I was in two scenes and one of them involved a joke about Roger cheating on me.”

“You’re a star, baby,” you say. “Deal with it.”

Dom smacks your arm playfully. She may be annoyed, but it doesn’t pain her the way it used to. She’s had decades of practice.

“The script could have been better,” Joe concedes. Then he spies John as he approaches, almost drops his caramel apple, waves frenetically. “Hi, Mr. Deacon! Hi!!”

“Wonderful job with all of this, Joe.” John shakes his hand as Joe gapes at him, starstruck. He’s always like that around John, appreciative, in awe, acutely aware of John’s legendary place in rock and roll history; and you love that someone besides you and Roger look at him that way.

“Thanks, I did it myself. Just kidding. It was 99% Gwil.”

“Well, I’ll still get you front row seats at the next Queen + Adam Lambert show.” It had taken a long time for John to find a front man he liked...a long time. He drove Roger and Brian insane. He kept saying he wanted someone who was like Freddie and yet simultaneously not trying to be Freddie, someone genuinely kind and charismatic and empathetic, an otherworldly talent, a natural performer. And then, on an unassuming spring night in 2009, they found him.  

Joe claps a palm on John’s shoulder and grins, his eyes glistening. “I’m obsessed with this little old guy! Obsessed, I tell you!”

“You want to see how old he is?” Roger teases. “Lift up that hand-knit hat and see what’s underneath. I’ll give you a hint. Not much.”

“At least I made it through the 90s without requiring hair plugs,” John counters.

“It was from all the bleaching!!”

“Hi, Rog!” Ben shouts as he rushes to embrace Roger, nearly knocking him off his feet. Mrs. Hardy is still across the field, talking to Brian, Anita, Rami, and Lucy, and trying to convince Eli not to crawl into a chocolate fountain.

Ben Hardy has always been somewhat of an enigma to you, mostly because he’s nothing at all like Roger. He’s subterranean-voiced and emerald-eyed and brooding and guarded and seems so much older than his twenty-nine years, and then every once in a while someone will come along and light him up like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Unlike Roger, Ben doesn’t light up for many people. He does for his son Eli, of course, and for Joe Mazzello...and for his new wife. He lights up for her like fucking wildfire.

“Ben,” you say, holding out a bag speckled with black cats. “I have our gift for you.”

“You shouldn’t have! Thank you so much.”

“You can’t thank us until you open it,” John chastises.

So Ben does. Inside is an album of hundreds of photos you’ve taken of Queen since Roger bought you your first Canon for Christmas in 1974: pictures that have never been released publicly of the boys at the Rainbow, at the Budokan, in Rome, in Boston, in Japan, in New Orleans, at Montreal, at Madison Square Garden, at Live Aid, at the Surrey house, at Montreux. Interspersed are some of John’s sketches, the only ones you can bring yourself to part with: close-ups of a long-haired Freddie drawing on messy eyeliner, Roger adjusting his sunglasses with a cigarette smoldering between his fingers, Brian tuning his Red Special.

“Oh my god,” Ben whispers.

“Most of those are very old,” you explain. “And I heard you both like old things.”

“We definitely do.” He hugs you, suddenly and fiercely and warmly; and you catch a glimpse of what it must be like to be one of the few people that he allows to truly know him, those shadowed depths to balance Joe’s uncomplicated light.

Maybe that’s it, you realize. Maybe Joe is more like Roger and Ben like John.

The wedding playlist is exclusively classic rock songs: the Doors and Aerosmith and Fleetwood Mac and Led Zeppelin and Queen. As A Kind Of Magic ends, the eerie opening notes of Hotel California ripple out over the breezy autumn fields.

“Not this fucking song!” Roger cries.

Joe turns to you, confused.

“LSD,” you inform him. “1977. I would not recommend it.”

“Noted.”

Roger continues, rubbing his forehead: “It makes me think of...freaking...weird, creepy shit...like swimming at night through cold water. But I just keep swimming and can’t get anywhere.”

“It makes me think of sharks,” you say. “Maybe they’re related.”

“Freddie always said it made him think of birds,” John sighs. “And the color blue.”

The three of you pause, nodding, remembering.

Joe frowns solemnly, peering down at his shoes. “I’m sorry I never got to meet him.”

“He would have adored you,” you say.

“Really?”

“Are you kidding?! You would have been best friends. Always looking out for people. Always plotting the next escapade. That charming chaotic energy. The utter inability to bake anything.”

“Awwww.” Joe beams, delighted. “I fucking love you guys.”

“That’s the thing,” Roger says. “People don’t realize it. We’re more of a family than a band. We find people we take a shine to like ancient treasure, snatch them up, sand away all their rough edges, show them everything the world has to offer. And if they can survive the casualties of stardom, that trial by fire, they become permanent. They grow like roots into our blood, our bones...and perhaps we claim a part of theirs as well. They become things we can’t live without.”

“And once you’re in the family,” John tells Joe with a fond, crafty smile. “You can never leave.”

[shhhlikeme]

“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:

🎉🎊 Special Birthday Outtake Part One 🎊🎉

———————————

A/N: HAPPY 25th BIRTHDAY to our mountain man! Everyone keeps saying how underrated the man is, well NOT ON THIS BLOG, NO MA’AM! WE CELEBRATE KINGS OVER HERE.

I tried to get to everyones prompts for this special collection so let’s go!! (There are two parts, but this can be read as a STAND ALONE fic).

TABLE OF CONTENTS

———————————

August 1st

One sunny summer day, you and your new boyfriend Aone were sitting on a patio having sushi for lunch in downtown Tokyo.

You scooted your chair closer to his and rested your head on your wrist, looking up at him quizzically.

Aone who was in the middle of chewing, slowed down as his heart picked up. The prettiest girl in the world was staring at him, and he knew you well enough to know that that look meant you were up to something. He swallowed hard and took a sip of his water.

“Yes? What is it?” He asked finally.

“Oh, just thinking about the fact that I don’t know when your birthday is.”

Aone tried not to roll his eyes. “Y/N....”

“Don’t Y/N me, Takanobu.”

Aone really did roll his eyes then. He didn’t know why you needed to know when his birthday was. He didn’t really like celebrating it because he isn’t a flashy guy, meaning only Kenji and now Kogenagawa would just go to the movies or something. His parents were divorced so he’d usually do something small twice with both or them too. His parents would usually gift him with a lot of money towards carpenter school so he was never in need of anything. Sure, in first and second year when Aone blew out his candles all he wished for was that you could maybe notice him, but look at him now. He didn’t want you to get him anything and stress when the best gift he’d ever and could ever receive is you being his.

brb crying

Aone shook his head. “I do not want to tell you. I feel like you’re going to do something extravagant.”

True. You pouted anyway.

“I won’t if you don’t want me to! We’re dating. You have to tell me. If you do, I’ll tell you mine.”

Aone flushed internally because you saying such a thing reminded him that he had to have that talk with you soon about the fact that he knew when your birthday was before you knew his name. Not only that, but tell you that he actually gifted you a cupcake last year on it, and wanted to gift you more than that. (but that’s for another outtake time).

“I’ll tell you on a later date then.” He tried reasoning fairly, but alas his spunky girlfriend was having none of that.

“No! You’re going to tell me now. You can’t deprive me of this, Aone,”

Aone continued to eat, picking up your favourite roll with his chopsticks and directing it towards your mouth for you to eat.

You frowned, crossing your arms.

You stared at your gorgeous white haired beauty of a man as he continued eating—your mind trying to figure out how you’d get the information out of him..... soon you got distracted because You were thinking about how sexy he looked in aviator sunglasses with the sun glowing his slightly tanned skin when suddenly, it hit you.

💡

How could you forget?! As you’re thinking about how sexy your boyfriend is and he’s trying not to look at you— you forgot that your boyfriend also finds you sexy, but unfortunately for most boys who have been crushing on a girl for years, the manner in which Aone found you sexy kind of made him literal putty for you.

😈

You decided to pull out the medium guns, taking a strand of your hair in your finger to twirl it.

“Pleaseee, baby?” You asked in your cutesy voice. You place a delicate hand on your boyfriend’s knee and fluttered your long eyelashes at him before he even looked at you.

Feeling your hand on his knee made his heart race like any time you touched him, so he turned to you. When his eyes met yours this poor baby dropped the sushi roll he was about to put in his mouth on his plate. One look at your begging-expression and this simp couldn’t even hold out for another second.

“August.” He admitted quickly, awestruck. You were just so hot.

You gasp. “THAT’S THIS MONTH, AONE! YOU WERE GOING TO LET ME MISS IT!” You growled. “Now tell me the day.”

Takanobu looked away, refusing to look at you as an act of defence, in case you used that sexy hair-twirling trump card again.

“No, Y/N.”

You smiled and decided not to twirl your hair but this time take advantage of the fact that he wasn’t looking at you. You leaned in closer to your boyfriend.

“Pretty please, my love?” You sing sweetly. Aone tried his best to keep it together because lord knows he was pre-programmed to give you anything you wanted, and he was actually doing a good job since he wasn’t looking at you.

“No.”

You leaned in immediately, pressing your soft lips to his cheek, pressing them into his stubble in a way that meant maybe this wasn’t just an innocent kiss. This was a kiss could either mean let’s hold hands or let’s fuck, and Aone knew it.

Like usual with your longer kisses, all the blood rushed from mountain man’s brain to his groin.

“13th.” He said almost automatically, no longer using the head above his shoulders but the one he wanted to stick inside your dripping cunt. “August 13th.” He clarified, wanting to please you by telling you, but also wanting to please you in more ways than one.

You jumped out of seduction-mode and squealed, pulling back and clapping.

“Yay! Thank you, baby!”

Aone’s heart soared at you calling him pet names. He remembers the jealous stares he always gets from other men and guys at school whenever you called him that, and it made him feel even better upon hearing it.

When Aone realized he’d been powerless to you using your sexiness to get what you wanted from him for the 5th time this week (second time today) he sighed.

“I do not like birthdays, Y/N. Just so you know.” he explains softly, praying that you won’t go all out.

You scooted your chair even closer to your boyfriend. Leaning in to tell him something in his ear. Knowing your bf wouldn’t admit to how much he loved when you did that—you whispered seductively,

“Oh, Aone, I promise you’ll love birthdays after I’m finished with yours....”

you made sure your lips grazed his ear the tiniest bit and that your voice was dripping with sex again.

Fuck, Aone hated that you knew what you did to him. With a blush, Takanobu reached out to grab a napkin quickly......... wiping the evidence of his nosebleed.

———————————

August 7th - Day 2 out of 7 - Jealous Mountain Man @ The Miyagi Prefecture Summer Training Camp Hosted by Date Tech | Also Date Tech Cheer Team Training Clinic

You and your boyfriend Aone were ecstatic to be at training camp together!

Even though you barely got to see eachother because the cheerleaders were training outside and the volleyball players were in the gym, you had lunch together which meant you could run to your boyfriend and kiss him when you got to see him in the caf excitedly.

However, the boys’ volleyball coaches strictly prohibited any fraternizing outside of lunch time because the boys were always a bit too distracted by the hot cheerleaders.

That type of limitation just made you that much more jumpy to see your man—who was on cloud nine every time you gave him attention. He pointed you out to his friends from other schools like Hinata and Kyotani who were very nice to you (well as nice as mad dog gets).

“That cheerleader.....is your............. girlfriend.......?” Kageyama asked as his eyes followed you into the cafeteria. Let’s just say a lot of volleyball players eyes were following you.

Aone nodded. “Yes. I understand it’s hard to believe. I catch myself not believing it either, most days.” He spoke proudly, unknowingly straightening his shoulders and puffing out his chest. He was so proud to finally be able to call you his. He knew you were way out of his league and it just made his entire day when he was reminded that you chose him.

From where you were standing by the doors, you searched the full lunch tables and spotted your mountain man. You got on your tippy toes and waved at him, blowing him a kiss.

“She’s really good looking.” Kags finished, nodding at Aone with a slight blush.

Aone nodded back while returning your curt wave. “Extremely.” Your boyfriend added, getting excited because you’d soon come over to say hi like you always did at lunch.

“Yeah that’s Y/N! I met her yesterday, she’s really nice. She is like a 10/10 on the pretty scale and even her friends are pretty! Is the stunning taller one—the captain I think—that’s your girlfriend, right Futakuchi?”

Sitting beside Aone and across from the quick attack duo, Futakuchi choked on his food, coughing. Aone patted his back while trying to hide a smile.

“Not my girlfriend.”

Kags looked confused. “Really? She sure acts like it—“

“I said not my girlfriend.” He repeated, making them drop the subject.

Aone stopped patting Futakuchi’s back because he seemed healthy enough, but also because he saw you approaching some guy at the Wakutani South High’s table. Aone felt something weird in the pit of his stomach as he watched you chat enthusiastically to the one player from that school. Aone knew him as Takeru.

Aone’s heart sunk because you never spoke to strangers that happily, you barely noticed them.

“Y/N-chan knows Takeru Nakashima?” Hinata asked innocently, stuffing his face with food & watching you. Kenji and Kags looked over too.

Aone felt himself stop breathing when you leaned in to whisper in the captain’s ear, causing Nakashima to turn red all over.

Aone wanted to throw up.

“I wasn’t aware.” Mountain man responded, his shoulders stiff.

Now, Mountain Man trusted you, yes, that much is true. He could practically read you like a book. But he absolutely hated the way Takeru’s eyes lit up like a fucking Christmas tree when you approached, talking only to him as if you were on some sort of secret mission.

Sure, all the guys at this tournament checked all of the cheerleaders out—asking out Katana and Kusa almost 4 times a day—but Kenji made it pretty clear to everyone he spoke with to spread the word that Y/N is taken, so Takeru definitely knew.

Kenji has been through too much with y’all already lmao

That didn’t stop Takeru from admiring you though. And being absolutely flabbergasted that you randomly wanted to speak to him, of all people, today.

As he watched from so far away, Aone was reminded of how much he hated the feeling he got when seeing you happily give another guy who’s clearly interested in you your attention. It was a familiar feeling that he’d felt when you were seeing that baseball player last year, but the feeling was justly multiplied now, since Aone did have some level of claim on you now. He wasn’t just wishing he had a right to be jealous like he did back then—You were his girlfriend now. The best thing that’s ever happened to him.

“Maybe they know eachother from somewhere,” Kenji lightly elbowed his best friend on the arm. “You should ask her.”

“Hm.” Aone grunted, crawling back into his minimal communication shell that he always went in when he was hurt.

Kenji was concerned because Aone hadn’t gone back to that since that night at the bowling alley.

Still watching you, Aone saw you lean in to hug Takeru and then skip over to his table. To him.

“Hi baby!” You exclaim, happier than usual. Aone couldn’t help but frown because were you happier because you spoke to that other guy? Did Takeru increase your happiness?

“Hi,” said Aone kindly, opening his arms for a hug. If Takeru got one, then bby mountain man wanted one—too.

childish jealous bby. I luv

You walked straight into your boyfriend’s perfect embrace as you stood and he remained seated. You felt him hug you tighter than usual, pressing his ear to your chest and running a caring hand up and down your back with his big beefy hands. This wasn’t the usual hug he gave you in public at all, it was more like how he hugged you when you two were cuddling and watching a movie at his house.

Muddled, you raised your eyebrow at Kenji for a silent explanation and Kenji just shrugged, not willing to tell on his friend for being jealous. After 10 seconds, Aone still wouldn’t let you go, closing his eyes while he relished in the feel and angelic smell of you so close to him.

“Uhhh.......you okay, sweetie?” You asked him, raising your hands to gently play with the hair on the back of his head. Aone nodded into your chest again—too jealous to realize that his head was pressing on your pillowy tits that he drools over.

A lot of boys were very jealousssss seeing you two, wishing they were Aone right about now.

“Do you know him?” Aone asked, his eyes still closed as he felt like sleeping on your booby pillows.

“Who?” You asked, lost as usual.

Kenji groaned. “Who do you think? Nakashima. Do you know him?”

“Ohhhhh!” You laughed. “No. I just met him right now. I wanted to uh....say hi.”

Aone’s frown deepened. He had no issue when you always spoke to your male friends at school, but even so, they always sought you out friendly. You basically never went up to anyone but the cheerleaders. Takeru is getting special treatment.... because Why didn’t you want to do that to him during the two years he day dreamed about you? - pondered mountain man.

“Want to go on a walk with me, Aone baby?” You asked Aone, not clueing in that he felt any type of way at all. “Some of the girls are getting ice cream just up the road. I want you to come.”

Aone nodded quickly, but he didn’t make any motion to leave this comfortable boob-hug yet.

“You just gonna hug me until Katana is ready to go?” You giggled.

Baby nodded.

“Okay.” You respond with a smile, continuing to run your hand through his short hair soothingly the way he likes. You just begin chatting to Hinata.

Aone felt reassured by your loving actions in front of the whole camp, but unfortunately..... that reassurance was short lived.

***

———————————

August 9th - Day 4 out of 7 of Training Camp

Throughout the camp, Aone watched everyday as you made what you did the other day a routine. You’d come into the caf with the other pretty cheerleaders, looking the prettiest, wave at your boyfriend, walk over to talk to Takeru Nakashima: sometimes bringing him out in the hall for something, then come back to kiss and greet your wonderful boyfriend.

Kenji, Kogenagawa, and especially Aone didn’t fucking like it.

“Want me to teach Takeru a lesson about boundaries?” Kogenagawa asked Aone at lunch a couple days later, cracking his knuckles like he would actually do something (he’d be too scared looool). Aone shook his head firmly. “No,” he answered, feeling hurt watching you smile brightly at something Nakashima said.

Kenji said his piece, “It’s Y/N that keeps approaching him, big boned setter. It’s not like Takeru really does it back, plus, I reminded him that that’s my best friend’s girl during outside hitter drills yesterday. He was really understanding, he seems like a really good kid.”

Kogenagawa nodded. “Great. I definitely don’t think Y/N is doing it on purpose though, she used to be way more flirty with that baseball guy or with Aone-senpai—but I just wish Takeru didn’t always look like Christmas came early whenever Y/N comes around.”

Kenji nodded. “That’s true. I may not know why Y/N wants to talk to him so badly, but I definitely know that Takeru is loving every second of it. He wouldn’t do anything because I’ve learned he’s a pretty stand-up guy, but man..... no offence Aone but Y/N needs to understand how fuck-hot she is. And that some guys will like her enthusiastic cheerleader personality a bit too much.”

Aone’s heart dropped as he listened to his honest friends. “I do not blame Nakashima....” Aone started, feeling his blood start to boil a bit because Takeru couldn’t help but stare at your fine ass in tight practice shorts when you walked away from him and toward Aone. Aone growled deep within his chest territorially.

As if he heard the growl but more likely probably just feeling menacing eyes on him, Takeru’s eyes flicked to Aone’s. Startled by how angry and scary Aone looked because he caught Nakashima staring at his girlfriend, Nakashima quickly diverted his eyes. Looking anywhere else but at Y/N for the duration of the day.

“I don’t blame Nakashima...” Aone continued his thought. “....I had and still have the same feelings for Y/N as she is very desirable. And besides, surely I don’t blame Y/N either. It’s not her fault she is attractive. A man’s actions toward an attractive woman is NEVER the woman’s fault. (A/N: KING!) And she is only talking to him, I shouldn’t be so envious.”

Kogenagawa nodded again. “That’s the spirit, Aone-senpai.”

“Easier said than done,” Kenji muttered before taking some gulps of his sports drink, knowing his best friend better than anyone else.

———————————

August 11th - Day 6 out of 7 of Training Camp

As previously mentioned, your boyfriend trusted you, but he also knew that you were absolutely lost when it came to knowing when a guy has a crush on you (how in the world do you know that Aone? Hahahaha) and it was pretty damn obvious that Takeru Nakashima was falling fast and hard. Pissed and annoyed, Aone watched you go chat with him day after day and then come over like nothing happened. It was obvious you didn’t like the kid in a romantic way, but Aone still wanted to know why you wanted to talk to him so much and why you even gave him the time of the day that Aone so desperately wanted from you before you noticed him. Maybe he was a little bitter and a lot jealous of Takeru’s ability to get your attention.

Takanobu wanted all your attention on him. Without knowing it, this big baby slowly got more and more clingy and pouty to his beautiful girlfriend.

When he was walking down a hall with you and Takeru happened to turn down the same hall with his team, Aone would pull you in close to his side and basically shield you from his view.

When you two would say bye after lunch and Aone noticed Nakashima was watching, he’d lean down to kiss you maybe a bit more passionately than usual (not that you were complaining, your boyfriend’s passionate kisses made your knees weak)....

Aone even somehow convinced you to wear his Date Tech jacket during lunch, because according to Aone the air conditioning was way too cold for the tiny practice outfit the cheerleaders had to wear, and he didn’t want you get sick.

bullshit, Aone😒 lol

But again, you weren’t complaining! You loved the smell of your boyfriend and having the feeling of his arms being around you because you were wearing his gigantic sweater just made you the happiest cheerleader ever!

But, unfortunately.... Even with all of that—just as Kenji predicted—that didn’t really keep Aone’s jealously under wraps:

Currently, you two were sitting beside eachother on a bench waiting for Kenji and Kanji to finish talking to the coach so you all could walk home together since you were going to your boyfriend’s. Everything was good as you two spoke and enjoyed each other’s company. Then, this boy just had to ruin a great moment.

Seeing Takeru approach; his shy eyes stuck on his girlfriend, Aone didn’t hesitate to put his arms around you and pull you on his lap with ease. His horny side didn’t even freak out that your ass was on his dick.....much. He was too focused on shooting daggers at your approaching admirer that you seemed to like very much.

Hesitating because he picked up on Aone’s protective message, Takeru flushed in fear before finding the guts to walk up to you anyway. Mountain man was not impressed.

Takeru stared only at you nervously. Good choice.

“Hey uh........Y/N. can I uh.....a-ask you something....?”

Furious that anyone would try it with him right there, mountain man poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

You moved to get off of your boyfriends lap, about to answer with an exuberant ‘sure!’ but that was until your boyfriend’s strong arms held you on his lap and he answered Takeru for you.

“You may ask US something.” He corrected Takeru, venom evident throughout his tone.

Your jaw dropped, turning back to who you thought was the sweetest boy you’ve ever met incredulously.

“Babe! That is so not nice!” You scolded.

Aone looked down at you, immediately cowering under your gaze because you looked disappointed in him. He never wanted you to be disappointed in him! Mountain man released his tight grip on you and apologized sincerely under his breath.

Still a bit unhappy with him, you just got off his lap to walk away with Takeru.

Aone sighed.

———————————

August 12th - Final Day of Training Camp

“Hello, Nakashima-senpai. Do you mind if I speak to you for a second before you get on your bus?” Aone bowed politely to the upperclassmen.

Taken aback by the giant middle blocker’s new kind behaviour toward him, Nakashima nodded, a bit frightened.

Aone pointed toward the empty bench that he was sitting on yesterday with Y/N when he’d been so rude to Takeru.

Takeru nodded and called over his shoulder for the team to keep packing up the bus, he would just be a few minutes. Takeru followed the mountain man.

“Uh.....you’re not going to beat me up, um, a-are you?” Takeru asked while using one hand to awkwardly massage the back of his neck.

Aone shook his head stoically, taking a seat on the bench then inviting Takeru to join him. He did.

“Y/N does not know I am doing this, so I want you to know this is completely genuine.” Aone turned to face the 5’8 captain. “I’m very sorry for the way I have acted toward you this entire training camp, Nakashima-senpai.”

Takeru nodded slowly.....

Aone continued. “I was admittedly jealous of the fact that my girlfriend noticed you so easily and always wanted to talk to you....especially since I’d wanted her to notice me in such a way for years and she never did.” Aone sighed. “It made me feel insecure. But that is no excuse. Kenji-san says that you respected our relationship all along, and um, my behaviour yesterday was undeniably unacceptable and for that I am sorry!” Aone stuck out his hand as emotions caused his voice to raise at the end of his apology.

Takanobu chuckled, shaking the big guy’s hand. “Hey, no worries, I accept your apology, Takanobu-san. Don’t worry about it. For what it’s worth I don’t know how you do it—what with having such a gorgeous girlfriend and dealing with guys like me who develop pathetic, spineless, hopeless crushes on her.....”

Aone’s eyebrows furrowed at the outside hitter’s confession.

Takeru gasped when he realized what he said, red as a tomato. He rushed to explain.

“S-sorry! N-not that I would ever act on those f-feelings!” He tripped over his words, but Aone was calm. Again, he couldn’t blame another man for falling for someone as incredible as you—he did. Takeru relaxed when he realized the middle blocker wasn’t going to break him in two.

“Aone, I mean it when I say it’s a hopeless crush because that girl.....Y/N.....she’s really in love with you. You’re all the she talks about, to be honest. And trust me, she didn’t ‘notice’ me out of no where..........um.........well I’ve said too much already.”

Aone stopped listening after hearing someone else say that Y/N is in love with him... he couldn’t believe other people could tell, solidifying to him that this wasn’t a dream anymore, and that you were his for keeps. It made him so confident.

Takeru cleared his throat which brought Aone back down to the present and out of Y/N-dreamland. Takeru was being called to the bus by his coach.

“Looks like I have to go, but......I just want to s-say that..........Y/N is a really good girl, Aone. You are the luckiest guy I know to have a girlfriend like her, and I’m not just talking about her looks. She really loves you, like a lot, and I hope you two last, because she deserves to be as happy as you make her forever. I don’t blame you at all for acting the way you did. I think I’d do worse. Thank you for the apology, though.........YES COACH IM COMING.....gotta jet. I wont be playing this year but I’ll see you from the audience. Good luck!” With some walking backwards and talking, Takeru waved to Aone and then jogged to his bus.

Feeling relieved, Aone packed up and went home.

***

Later that night after his night time routine, mountain man texted you before bed. You hadn’t spoken to him all day for the rude behaviour he exhibited yesterday (or for some other reason wink wink) and it made your boyfriend just give you your space anxiously. But he couldn’t go to sleep before letting you know how sorry he was:

Aone: I miss you. I’m extremely sorry about yesterday. That wasn’t like me. I hope you have a perfect sleep

You: 💖💖💖 Takeru said you apologized???????

I forgive you baby 💘🏔

I hope you have a perfect sleep & a perfect wake 2 🤫😉

Not really understanding what your last part of the text meant but too tired from training camp to figure it out, Aone closed his eyes and drifted off into romantic and sexy dreams starring his unbelievably gorgeous girlfriend.

———————————

Taglist: @crushzone @galagcica @chaichai-the-weeb @nairobiisqueen

Special Birthday Outtake Part 2 (NSFW): CLICK HERE🎉

[hobeymakar]

Every Kind of Way | C. Makar

Words: 2,528

A/N: this one is based off the song Every Kind of Way by H.E.R. (aka one of my fave R&B songs). In this, COVID-19 never happened and the season starts and ends at the time it usually does.

Warnings: swearing and references to alcohol use

-

Baby, the sound of you. Better than a harmony. I want you off my mind. And on me. Holding me closer than we’ve ever been before. This ain’t a dream. You’re here with me. Boy, it don’t get no better than you. For you, I wanna take my time. All night

You wake up to the sound of birds chirping outside. It’s a beautiful August morning in Denver and you turn over to see the most beautiful sight of all, your boyfriend Cale. He’s asleep peacefully beside you and you take a moment to caress his face, gently running your thumb over his cheeks.After a few moments, he wakes up and goes to kiss you. You stop him and get up to go to the bathroom instead, since you can’t stand morning breath. You brush your teeth and when you come back into the room, you see him on his phone.

He hears you come into the room and puts his phone down before turning over onto his back. You climb back onto the bed, wearing one of his old giant UMass Hockey tees and joggers.

“Good morning,” you smile, straddling his waist.

“Morning, baby,” he smiles back. “Sweet dreams?”

“I dreamt of you winning the cup and me kissing you at center ice,” you explain.

“Well who knows? Maybe it’ll happen this year,” he smiles.

“It better happen. I expect you guys to kick ass all season,” you reply, placing one of your hands over his heart.

“And what if we don’t?” he teases.

“Then I’ll tell Bednar to bag skate you guys after every loss to whip you guys into shape,” you tease back, causing him to chuckle in response.

“I’ll whip you into shape,” he groans, flipping you over and pinning you down to the mattress to tickle you.

“Cale!” you shriek, since you hate being tickled.

He ignores your pleas and continues to tickle you into submission, while you continue to laugh uncontrollably.

“Okay okay okay, I’m sorry! I won’t tell Bednar to bag skate you after every loss,” you whine, not being able to handle any more tickling from him.

“Good,” he smiles, kissing her forehead.

“Now, since you decided to tickle the shit out of me, the least you can do is make us breakfast,” you tease.

“I’ll make breakfast, but you better not complain about it,” he replies, sending you a look as he gets up from the bed.

“Ugh!” you groan, smacking his ass hard.

He doesn’t even react to the smack and walks out of the bedroom, causing you to shake your head and get up from the bed.

I wanna love you in every kind of way. I wanna please you no matter how long it takes. If the world should end tomorrow and we only have today. I’m gonna love you in every kind of way

You walk into the bathroom and see Cale fresh out of the shower, brushing his teeth with a towel hanging low off his hips. The mirrors are fogged in the bathroom and he looks good with his cheeks flushed from the heat and humidity in the bathroom.

“Like what you see?” he teases, raising an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” you scoff, shoving him lightly in the chest. 

He walks over to his sink and finishes brushing his teeth as you go to the other sink and wash your face and hands.

“Do you want me to pick us up some dinner for tonight?” he asks you, his words garbled because of the toothpaste in his mouth.

“I’ll be home on time to make some dinner,” you reply, drying your hands.

He goes back to brushing his teeth and you draw “heart you” over the fog on the mirror, before leaving the bathroom. You go back to the room and get ready for your Zoom meeting for your online business job. Before you know it, Cale comes back into the room and gets dressed for his first day of training camp. He then heads to the living room to grab his gear. You follow him out of the bedroom and into the living room to bid him farewell.

“Love you too, baby,” he smiles, referring to the writing on the mirror you left him.

“So, you saw my note on the mirror huh?” she asks rhetorically.

“It was cute, but you’re even cuter,” he replies, bending down to give you a kiss.

“Bye baby. Make sure you kick some butt today. Can’t have some guy take your spot on the top d-pair,” you tease, your lips just lightly brushing against his.

“No one’s gonna take my spot babe, but thanks for the motivation,” he teases lightly.

“I think there are other ways I can get you extra motivated to have a great camp,” you tease back.

“I better have a great camp then,” he replies, finally kissing you.

Give you all, give you all of me. When you need it. “Cause I need it. I wanna fall like your favorite season. I’ll never give up. Stay here forever, babe. It don’t get no better than this. Your kiss

It’s Conor Timmins’ birthday and the party is being held at Mikko’s condo. It’s a big ass luxurious condo right in the middle of downtown Denver because it’s the type of place you get when you’re making $9.25M a year. You and Cale arrive when the party's just starting to get really going. You bring two big dishes of your famous Buffalo Chicken Ranch dip that the boys always demolish. You and Cale also hand Timmy his gift, which Cale kind of went overboard with. But being that Cale and Timmy have been friends for so long, it’s understandable why he was freaking out over the gift a little. You and Cale obviously greet the whole team and the girls, with you catching up with the girls and finding out what’s new with their lives and how their summers went.

After a while, the party starts going off the rails because the guys start drinking and it’s tarps off after that. The guys start dancing in the middle of the living room, like it’s the dance floor at the Roxy, while the girls just laugh at them. Luckily, Cale doesn’t join in on the shenanigans and his shirt stays on for the entire night. After a while of laughing at the boys, Cale drags you out to the large balcony, complaining that it’s too hot inside the condo. You follow him reluctantly outside and take in the cool breeze of the September night and the view of the city lights.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight. I know the guys can go pretty hard,” Cale says, apologizing as if it’s a bad thing when the team parties.

“Babe, you know I love coming to team parties with you! This is where I get my best blackmail and chirping material on your teammates,” you tease, trying to keep the mood light.

“Wow, look at the moon tonight,” he says, admiring the view.

You look at the moon but you also look at how beautiful he looks in the moonlight.

“I’ll never get over how beautiful this city looks at night,” you sigh, loving the view.

“You make the view a whole lot better though,” he confesses, causing your heart to swell.

You turn around to face him and realize that if this is what being in love is like, then you never want it to end.

“I love you, Cale Douglas Makar,” you smile, brushing his lips against yours.

“I love you so much more, Y/F/N,” he smiles back, before properly kissing you.

The kiss grows more passionate by the second and it feels like the world just disappears and it’s only you two in that moment. However, the moment doesn’t last long, as the sound of the balcony door opening startles you two.

“No making out at team events! You know it’s a $50 fine, Makar. If I catch you two again, I’ll double it,” EJ says sternly.

If anyone takes his job of fining teammates seriously, it’s EJ. Before the two of you can even respond, EJ closes the door shut and goes back to the party.

“I think we should head back before EJ finds another reason to fine you again,” you tease.

“Yeah, I refuse to put more money on the board,” he adds, taking your hand in his.

You two head back to the party and of course, EJ opens his big mouth again.

“Guys, the two lovebirds have decided to join us again!” he yells out, grabbing everyone’s attention.

Cale blushes immediately and you kiss his cheek, causing his cheeks to darken even more.

I wanna love you in every kind of way. I wanna please you, no matter how long it takes. If the world should end tomorrow and we only have today. I’m gonna love you in every kind of way. I wanna love you in every kind of way. I wanna please you, no matter how long it takes. If the world should end tomorrow and we only gave today. I’m gonna love you in every kind of way

Cale is driving through the streets of the city while the song Drew Barrymore by Bryce Vine is playing through the speakers. Your hands are joined together in the middle as you both sing along to the song.

“‘Cause you’re the next Drew Barry and I want more, yeah. And all these other girls keep wonderin’ what I fuck with you for,” he sings, kissing your hand.

You eventually arrive at your destination but have to park a couple blocks away because city parking is always a nightmare. You walk through the streets of Denver, holding hands and luckily, no one bothers you two for a photo or autograph. You eventually arrive at the place and it turns out it’s a small arcade bar. Cale buys your tokens and you drag him to the skeeball machines right away.

“Prepare to go down, Makar!” you yell out.

“In your dreams, Y/L/N!” he retorts, his competitive nature coming out.

You take the first ball and you manage to miss the left 10,000 target and get only 1,000 instead, while he manages to hit the 2,000 range. With the second ball, you manage to miss the right 10,000 target and only get 1,000 instead, while he hits the 2,000 range again. You look up at him and he’s making a cry baby face at you. You just shoot him a look and become determined to get that stupid grin off his face. You take the next ball and manage to hit the 5,000 target, while he misses the 4,000 target and only gets 1,000 instead.

“In your face! Eat shit!” you yell in his face playfully.

The two of you continue your competitive game of skeeball with you coming out victorious. He leads you to the basketball game and you shake your head at him, as a plea of protest.

“Why not, babe?” he asks.

“Because I’m too short and terrible at basketball,” you inform him.

Even though the boots you have on give you an extra couple of inches of height, you are still too short to be playing this game.

“I’ll show you baby,” he assures you.

He grabs a ball and shows you the shooting motion before handing it to you to try.

“This is gonna be so bad, just so you know,” you inform him.

You take the shot, mimicking the shooting motion he made, and you’re shocked when the shot actually goes in without bouncing off the rim. You look at him in disbelief that you actually just did that.

“I told you that you can do it,” he smiles, hugging you tightly.

You guys play more games for a while before deciding it’s getting too late.

“I really don’t wanna walk all the way back to the car! My feet hurt!” you complain.

He lifts you up without warning and you wrap your legs and arms around him tightly as he carries you out of the arcade and into the streets of Denver. He manages to only make it a block carrying you before growing tired. You jump down to the ground and you two finish your walk back to the car, while holding hands.

If this is what being in love is like, then you never want it to end.

I wanna love you. I gotta love you. I wanna love you. I gotta love you

It’s New Year’s Eve and the whole team and all the girls and kids are at Gabe’s house for the Avs annual New Years party. This year, they managed to be home once again, for New Year’s and even played a game earlier in the evening. It’s currently 6 minutes before midnight and the party is in full swing. The children are running around, while their moms try to catch them and stop them from destroying any of the Landeskogs’ furniture. 

There’s drinks flowing and snacks all over the kitchen and dining room. There’s child-friendly music playing, since the last thing the mothers need is for their kids to pick up swearing from the music. Cale is currently talking about improving the power play with Nate and you’re listening as Melissa tells the girls about one of Linnea’s recent play dates. This is your second Avs New Year’s party and you’re already starting to get used to the chaos. As it gets closer to midnight it gets more chaotic and before you know it, everyone is packed around each other counting down the final minute of 2020. Cale is right beside you wearing a ridiculous 2021 hat and yet he still looks so beautiful. You’re looking at the TV screen showing Time Square and the crystal ball, waiting for the ball to drop.

The final 10 seconds begin and you keep your attention on the TV not noticing what’s happening behind you. The clock finally strikes 12 and everyone starts going nuts. You turn to your side to give Cale a New Years Kiss and instead see him behind you on one knee. You freeze and cover your face in shock.

“Y/F/N, ever since I met you by almost spilling coffee on you at Dunkin in UMass, you’ve changed my life. I asked you to be my girlfriend at the New Years Eve party freshman year, so I figured I should ask you to marry me at this New Year’s Eve party. So, will you make me the luckiest guy alive and marry me?” he asks, looking more nervous than he did at 2018 World Juniors.

“Yes!” you cry out, nodding your head.

Everyone cheers as Cale gets up and kisses you, making sure to keep it light because of all the kids around. You look at the giant engagement ring and can’t believe you’re actually gonna marry the love of your life.

This is definitely what being in love is like and you never want the feeling to end.

[cravingwitandwisdom]

SPILL THE BEANS ON MISTER BOYFRIEND! Yes someone to make you happy!

Girl, you sure you want me to talk about my baby? Because when I start I can hardly stop. Ok, here we go.. 

We met on the 5th of may, this year, our national day of freedom. Covid bound us all home with beautiful weather and cold beers. A group of lost souls formed in the garden of our apartment building and soon we all became fast friends. We used to spend every Friday eve drunk and coked up, everyone was bored so we turned the music up loud. He was interesting but then he had an accident. He ended up in the hospital due to his diabetes. Braindamage. Being the smart one was always his thing (still is) It fucked him up. He had grown feelings for one of our friends but that didn’t work out. The next couple of months we grew close as friends, I didn’t thought about him like that until august. We started to hang out one-on-one more often. I guess that made him think about me as well.. But you know, that pussy that I am and how much I value friendship I didn’t make a move hahahah pathetic. So, forward to the end op September.. He invited me for stew and after dinner we talk for a while, about dating and how things were going horrible for the both of us. He asked the obvious, we had sex both with intentions of this being a FWB situation but soon I realised that my mind was contastly going back to him, and so was my body. He was, and still is, so sure about me, about us. 

He later told me that the first time he saw me on that mayday the sunlight caught my eye and reflected golden. He said that he knew back then, he wanted me. And then again the last day of summer. Do you remember that last day of really hot wheather mid September?  We blew up a kiddy pool and carried buckets of water, just to cool of a little. It was perfect. See picture below.

But yeah, that was our story so far. Now a little about him. He’s too smart for his own good; bachelor in philosophy just because he loves it, he’s very passionate about that. He sells tubes at this Dutch company, aspires to be chef while doing a master. But he’s not there yet with his health. Eyes like stars. Sly smile. Stupid dorky ass cum face. I love that. He’s sweet and blunt and at times even a little cheesy. On our first date he bought me sunflowers because like the world spins aroun the sun, his world spins around me. lol. So cute. Then he fingered me at the movies. hahaha. Our sex is heaven, btw. What I like about our relationship most is that he’s emotionally stimulating, he makes me put my feeling to words. He makes me think about why I feel the way I feel, what my reference for love is and what I want it to be; him. I can see my whole ass future with this guy. 

How are you, my dear? Are you happy?

[highandlowculture]

MEET THE NEW WEST, SAME AS THE OLD WEST

In the second act of Once Upon A Time… In Hollywood, washed-up actor Rick Dalton is on the set of a TV western as his stuntman and best buddy, Cliff Booth is revisiting Spahn Ranch, a former set for movie westerns. The ranch has been taken over by a bunch of hippies who follow some guy name “Charlie”. The heavy of the hippies is a fella by the name of Tex Watson. When conflict arises between Cliff and the hippies, one of the girls runs off to fetch Tex, who’s busy showing a tourist couple around the ranch. Hearing that there’s trouble brewing, Tex snaps to it, galloping across the western landscape on horseback and wearing a black hat. It’s a sweeping shot straight out of a John Ford film. That’s when it clicked for me…

Tarantino has made his third western.

Although there were always spaghetti western elements in his films (especially in Kill Bill vol. 2), QT hadn’t made a full-fledged western until 2012’s Django Unchained. Though entertaining and with an African-American lead, the film is his most straight-forward movie. We know who the heroes are, we know who the villains are. Wrongs are righted with a six-shooter and a hero’s grin. Its followup was another western, 2015‘s The Hateful Eight, a much darker and far less heroic film. All of the characters are flawed if not outrightly fucked-up. If Django Unchained was the sumptuously shot crowd pleaser, The Hateful Eight was the claustrophobic, nihilistic reversal. The western myth of heroes and villains is subverted by an unsavory group of characters who drag each other through snow, blood and racial slurs. Maybe the Old West was a pretty rough place to live in after all!

And now, in 2019, QT transports us to another Old West: 1969 Hollywood.

Fifty years ago. Half a century. Pretty old, right?

Already contentious with reviewers, one of the main debates surrounding Once Upon A Time… In Hollywood is its handling of Sharon Tate and the Manson Family. In the summer of ’69, when Tate, her unborn baby and her houseguests were brutally murdered by three members of the Manson Family, it sent shockwaves throughout Hollywood and America. The utopian dream of the 1960s was over. That’s the sanitized, less complicated history anyway. At the time many people were blaming satanism and Tate’s husband Roman Polanski for his hedonistic ways. Plus anyone deep in the trenches of late 60s hipdom knew that some of the peace-and-love spouting Flower Children might be psychopaths that could turn on a dime. Such darkness was foreshadowed in the music of The Doors and Velvet Underground. As Joan Didion recalled in her seminal work The White Album:

“Black masses were imagined, and bad trips blamed. I remembered all of the day’s misinformation very clearly, and I also remember this, and wish I did not: I remember that no one was surprised.”

Knowing this I find it disappointing just how many reviewers fail to see how sympathetic QT is to Sharon and her friends. They’re shown as cool people with a good vibe (only Roman is shown to be prickish when he speaks rudely to a dog). Sharon and Jay Sebring like to listen to records and enjoy life. No satanism. No orgies. And Sharon’s a generous person. She picks up hippie hitchhikers and buys her husband a Thomas Hardy novel. She relishes the communal experience of watching herself in the Dean Martin film The Wrecking Crew. It’s not just about her. She’s enjoying the connection she’s making with the theater’s audience. On the infamous August night, the film’s narrator talks about how Sharon, in the late stage of her pregnancy, was feeling hot and anxious. In short, Sharon is humanized. She’s a thoughtful, spirited and benevolent presence throughout the film. I think reviewers who view her just as “a Barbie doll” are revealing more of their own lack of empathy than QT’s. And people getting hung-up on how many lines her character speaks have some skewed priorities. As if the only way a person has worth is if they talk a lot. Talking. Talking. Talking. There are so many empty vessels running at the mouth these days. Social media voices bombard us constantly. There’s something to be said for some quiet dignity every once in awhile. Regardless, Once Upon A Time… In Hollywood isn’t Sharon’s film and it’s not a biopic. It’s Rick and Cliff’s film and it’s a western.

If comedy is “tragedy plus time”, then the same can be said for any work of art. The mythology of the Old West often mixed historical and fictional characters. Whether they were Billy The Kid, Wyatt Earp or Butch Cassidy, we’ve seen countless retellings of their exploits, never exactly the same, never entirely accurate. That’s what makes it a myth. A good portion is made-up. Going back to Homeric and Arthurian legends, the foundation of storytelling has always been a collision of fact and fiction, chronicle and embellishment. People make too much of QT altering historic events. Are the Nazis of Inglourious Basterds and the Manson Family of Once Upon A Time… In Hollywood any different than any other mythical villains of earlier works of art? If a filmmaker can’t riff on a fifty-year-old historical event, then what are we really doing here? Do we just want the cinema of Marvel Comics and discreet biopics? QT doesn’t treat history any different than the filmmakers of the 1960s treated the events of the 1860s. Tex Watson, galloping away in his black hat, is a signpost for this. It’s QT’s way of saying: “Every time has its myths, every time has its black hats and white hats”. And the Manson Family, filled with bloodlust and megalomania from the top down, fulfill the role of black-hatted villains quite perfectly.

Does this make Rick and Cliff, two middle-aged white guys who love booze and hate hippies, our white-hatted heroes? Hell, no. With the exception of Django Unchained, that was never QT’s bag. He’s all about the anti heroes of spaghetti westerns and Sam Peckinpah films. Men who have done plenty of bad, sometimes unspeakable, things. They’re only the hero because they wrestle with their past and because there’s always a meaner, badder fella waiting to shoot it out with ��em. Clint Eastwood’s character in the The Good, the Bad and the Ugly is only “Good” because Lee Van Cleef is so clearly “Bad” (and Eli Wallach “Ugly”). In 1992’s The Unforgiven, Eastwood’s character talks of killing “women and children” in his past. Yet he’s still clearly our hero. The Old West is a morally complex time in which one’s heroism is often defined by a greater and competing villainy.

So when it’s revealed that Cliff possibly murdered his wife and got away with it, he’s stepping into the role of anti hero with a dark past. Is Cliff haunted by his past? Not seemingly. He’s more inclined to shrug it off with a smirk and swig of beer. Shit happens y’know. This makes him exactly the type of guy murderous hippies shouldn’t fuck with. They justify their bloodlust with a self-serving philosophical bent: Entertainers taught them to kill via TV and movies, so it’s okay to kill the people who are involved in making TV and movies. QT makes the bold and provocative choice to not confirm whether Cliff did or didn’t kill his wife, but if he did, he probably wouldn’t dress it up as anything other than a burst of brutish violence that he was lucky to get away with. He loves his dog though, and he’s a good friend. In real life that might not justify liking the guy, but in a western that’s usually enough. Ultimately these character choices made by QT are to set up a mythic showdown between Cliff and the Manson Family. He’s good because they’re bad. It’s the same reason Cliff was shown going head-to-head with Bruce Lee. Masked racism by QT, a known lover of Asian and martial arts films, or a way of building up Cliff’s status to mythical proportions? There was once this ex war hero, who became a stuntman and maybe killed his wife, and he once threw Bruce Lee into a car door on the set of The Green Hornet! Cliff is Paul Bunyan. He’s Bill Brasky. A folk hero for stuntmen and for his time.

And did you hear that one tale about Cliff and the Manson Family…?

Rick’s bread and butter is now guest-starring on various TV shows in which he plays the heavy and gets his ass kicked by the show’s star at the end of the episode. Rick is a boozy, bloated hot mess of a man who’s prone to crying. A lot. His first burst of tears in the film is at the Musso & Frank parking lot, after an agent gives Rick a harsh dose of reality regarding the state of his career. Cliff, always keeping his cool, gives Rick his sunglasses and says, “Don’t cry in front of the Mexicans.” Remember — this is a western. Anyway, if Cliff fills the role of macho, gives no fucks, murderous outlaw, Rick is the contrasting “modern man” or, to use a western term, “tenderfoot”. The film begins with a behind the scenes segment for Rick’s old show Bounty Law. In it an interviewer talks to Rick and Cliff about what a stuntman does. During the interview there’s a quip about Cliff carrying Rick’s load. So right out of the gate, QT brings our attention to the idea that Cliff is the real deal and Rick’s the actor playing a role. This notion is repeated throughout the film (even one of the Manson Girls, “Pussy”, makes reference to Cliff being more authentic because he’s a stuntman rather than an actor). Regardless of whether Cliff murdered his wife or not, he’s an ex military man and war hero, so obviously he’s killed people before. So in addition to taking falls and performing dangerous stunts for Rick, he’s more of a bona fide western anti hero than Rick ever could be. Fittingly, while Cliff and the Manson Family black hats are sizing each other up at Spahn Ranch, Rick is busy acting in a TV western. And Rick keeps crying. A lot. He even cries in front of a little girl who simultaneously coddles and reprimands him. No doubt, Cliff would view this as potentially worse than crying in front of Mexicans. But Rick can’t help himself. He’s both a man of his time and out of time. He can’t roll with the hippies and spaghetti westerns but he’d never last a day in Cliff’s shoes let alone the wild frontier. Even at the end, in which Rick finally gets the chance to become an avenging hero (involving possibly the greatest payoff in cinematic history) if one steps back and thinks of the climactic set-piece, Rick is merely stepping in at the end to grab all the glory after Cliff and his wonderful dog Brandy did most of the heavy lifting. Thus Cliff is yet again carrying Rick’s load.

But this doesn’t mean Rick doesn’t have a victory. He does. It just comes at the midpoint, and it’s the closest thing to a real-life victory in the film. When Rick shows up to play the heavy in the TV western, he’s reached his low-point. Like a different part of the anatomy going into ice-water in Raging Bull, Rick is submerging his face into ice-water in his trailer, struggling with a hangover and hopelessness. Making matters worse, the artsy director shows up and tells Rick he wants him to play a hippie-style outlaw with a fringe jacket, mustache and long hair. The only thing Rick does more than drink and cry is insult hippies. He’s living his worst nightmare as an actor. QT makes another one of his most interesting choices by showing the subsequent scenes from the TV show in the same film stock and style as the main narrative. Thus when juxtaposed to Cliff at Spahn Ranch, Rick’s battle with his growing irrelevance as an actor is given the same cinematic weight. This isn’t just a TV show within the movie — it is the movie! This battle or showdown is just as important as Cliff’s eventual showdown with the Manson Family. Rick struggles. He fucks up his lines. He comes totally unglued in his trailer. This looks like the end of the road for him as an actor. He eventually gets his shit together, embraces the role and goes for broke. It’s a credit to both QT as a filmmaker and Leo DiCaprio as an actor that the villain Rick plays in the TV show ends up being more intense and visceral than the one he played in the main narrative of Django Unchained. Rick’s chops as an actor are restored and he decides to go to Italy and star in spaghetti westerns. He learns to maximize his talent in order to roll with the times.

A protagonist who is at odds with changing times might seem regressive or even reactionary to some people today, but it’s also a hallmark of westerns, especially the westerns of the late 1960s and early 1970s. From Once Upon a Time in the West to Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, an impending future of railroads and industrialization is always treated with uneasiness by the heroes. These changing times aren’t going to include them. Their wild and free ways will soon come to an end. Nowhere is this theme most prominent than in the work of Sam Peckinpah. In many of his westerns, The Wild Bunch, The Ballad of Cable Hogue, Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, the heroes are viewed as endangered creatures who are all too aware of their fate. The character of Cable Hogue even meets his end when a motor car rolls over him. He’s killed by the modern age! Another Peckinpah film from this era, Junior Bonner, is set in 1972 Arizona but can also be considered a western (creating a template for QT’s western that’s not set in the canonical “Old West”). The protagonist and title character is an aging rodeo star (brilliantly played by Steve McQueen, who perhaps not so coincidentally also appears in QT’s film). In Peckinpah’s film, Junior has lost his edge and returns home to take a breather and maybe get his chops back. His struggle is not unlike Rick Dalton’s. They’re both aging entertainers and they both fear they’re washed-up. And as with all of Peckinpah’s westerns, encroaching progress is a threat to Junior’s simple cowboy ways. All of these above mentioned westerns are filled with a bittersweet quality; a nostalgic snapshot that’s destined to become yellow and brittle. The power of myths is they suggest immortality for our heroes.They might be long gone but they live through these tales. Whether’s it’s the Old West of outlaws in dusty little towns or the Old West of ’69 Hollywood, people once lived in these places and they lived vibrant, foolhardy and sometimes dangerous lives. Maybe they didn’t live or die exactly as the tale accounts, but they did indeed live and they did indeed die.

In his film QT references another “man out of time” western: The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean. Written by John Milius, directed by John Huston and starring Paul Newman, the film is a highly-fictionalized account of the life of Judge Roy Bean. At the climax an elderly Roy Bean reemerges from a self-imposed exile to have a showdown with businessmen who have surrounded his beloved town with oil rigs. When his enemies ask who he is, Roy Bean shouts “Justice, you sons of bitches!” This is immediately followed by a shootout in which Roy defeats his foes, blows up the surrounding oil rigs and goes out in a blaze of glory. In real life Roy Bean died in his bed after a heavy bout of drinking. What’s most interesting is how QT referenced The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean. After the climax of Once Upon A Time… In Hollywood there’s a triumphant but wistful epilogue in which one of our heroes is faced with a future that we all know is a fantasy. Over this scene is an evocative piece of music that sounds like it’s from a fairytale and it plays over the end credits. The piece of music is entitled “Miss Lillie Langtry” and it’s the main theme from The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean. Lillie Langtry was a British-American socialite Roy Bean was enamored with and he even went so far to name the saloon in his town after her. “Miss Lille Langtry” plays over the end credits of Once Upon a Time… In Hollywood and the opening credits of The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean. But before the credits in Roy Bean we see written in storybook fashion:

“Near the turn of the last century the Pecos River marked the boundaries of civilization in western Texas. West of the Pecos there was no law, no order, and only bad men and rattlesnakes lived there.

…Maybe this isn’t the way it was… it’s the way it should be.”

With Once Upon a Time… In Hollywood, Quentin Tarantino pays homage to a socialite/actress who was tragically murdered before her time and two endangered heroes—one an outlaw stuntman, the other an entertainer—neither of who existed but men like them did. For two hours and forty-five minutes, the onward march of tragedy and time is defeated through a spirited, Old West mix of bravado and audacity. Maybe it’s not the way it was…

But it’s the way it should be.

[boggirlsummer]

Wet Hot American Summer

August 18 Zoey and I thought we fixed the leak in my tent but we were wrong. I spent the early morning inching away from a puddle that finally pushed me out around 8 am - time to get up anyway. Too rainy to cook or make coffee and I left camp aimlessly. I could barely see anything through the smoke and clouds which threw a wrench in my non-plan to drive around and take photos out the car window. Grand Tetons and Montana and Wyoming were up there on my teenage bucket list (lmao, dream big!), mostly for the landscapes and western vibes and maybe a few cathartic renditions of Wide Open Spaces. I just hiked all summer so I feel like I earned a few days of all-american automobile tourism.

Cozy

Decision fatigue is a ball buster on solo trips (and in life) and sometimes I refuse to change course even when it’s clear that a plan isn’t going to work out. I drove around Tetons alternately listening to the directions and making random navigational decisions, so Google kept yelling at me to make a u-turn. Eventually I got annoyed with both of us and stopped for snacks at the general store. I’ve been making my way through all the kettle chip flavors and so far honey dijon is the best and korean bbq is the worst.

Drove straight through to Yellowstone hoping the storm would let up, but by the time I got there it was 50 degrees with rain expected all afternoon. I thought it would be SUMMER once I left the Bay Area, so all my sweaters and warm jackets are in vacuum sealed bags that I don’t have the space in my car to open. I wasn’t loving the idea of being wet and cold in Yellowstone all night so I talked the campground lady into refunding my site reservation and headed for Big Sky, Montana.

I felt bad leaving without seeing any of the Yellowstone sights so I stopped at Old Faithful on my way out. I knew laughably little about what I was looking at and when a bunch of people started gathering I thought to myself, is this thing gonna explode or something?? And ya turns out that’s the entire point, it shoots a bunch of water and steam into the air every few minutes. I bought a cup of coffee and watched halfheartedly. The only other attraction I know about is the rainbow glory hole and there was so much traffic to park in the lot I said screw it and went on to Montana.

No LTE between Yellowstone and Big Sky and I was without a place to sleep - luckily my sister was available to do some emergency concierge work for me. I eventually found a nice campground near town but the obscene number of bear country warning signs freaked me out. I backtracked to Big Sky to buy a $50 can of bear spray, what a rip. Feeling beat today so I made it up to myself with a bowl of chicken curry ramen and a Sapporo. It was no nugget curry, but it did the job ☺️

Reading the bear spray instructions before bed - you’re supposed to use it once a charging bear is two to three seconds from reaching you. Wtf. I can’t do anything in two seconds. Finished Year of the Monkey at last. Almost fell asleep with a candy wrapper in my pocket, instant death. Also I got my period and I’m worried this is going to attract the bears.

August 19 I broke my own rule. I drove to Bozeman this morning and had a chicken fried steak at the Western Cafe, “The Last Best Cafe.” I had a nice chat with two old guys at the bar, initiated by ME! We talked about my trip so far and books (I was reading Walden Two and one of the guys had Woman in the Window with him, and we agreed that both authors are pretty nuts). Good time all around and then one of them secretly bought my breakfast 🥰 I’ve only ever had creepy men buy me drinks at bars so free CFS with no strings attached was a revelation. My smile lit up the cold dark streets of Bozeman.

Too early for hostel check-in so I killed some time hanging out in a coffee shop and wandering around Main Street. When I’m alone in a new city I usually get on the apps, it’s fun to hang out with a real LOCAL and have an AUTHENTIC experience. I did this on my first night in Sydney last year and my date won $7,000 at a bar raffle he’d been going to every week for three years and then bought us a night’s worth of top shelf shots, bad coke, and dumplings. Obviously I was his good luck charm so I should’ve gotten a cut of that $$$ but whatever… Eventually we went back to his depressing loft outside of the city. It was barely furnished and full of his shitty art and luckily he didn’t have any condoms so I was able to decline sex without feeling guilty (I had condoms of course but didn’t disclose). He tried to fuck me again around 4 am and I was so confused I thought he must have found a condom while I was briefly sleeping. He had not. I snuck out at 6 am and caught the bus back to the city. Not the most restful night but nice to get away from the hostel for a little while. But ya I updated my Hinge location to Bozeman and got hella conservative men swiping on me 🥴 My profile isn’t anything crazy but I don’t think I’m giving off Megyn Kelly vibes. Are they playing some sort of sexual bingo? Are they out to stealth me? Seems sus.

If you are a man on Hinge with a naked photo on your profile I WILL screenshot it and I WILL make a collage of my collection once I have enough material and I WILL sell it as a NFT and I WILL make $0 cuz y’all are freaks. This is the tamest one I’ve got, text me if you want a photo of a naked man covering his junk with a pineapple.

Ooooieee hostel is grungy and subterranean and not the kinda place you want to spend many conscious hours in. I took myself to the movies to escape - another thing I really missed last year. I saw The Night House, which I would describe as an architectural horror? I’ve been thinking about architecture a lot lately, this cool site Zoey sent me has some interesting interviews and stuff. In the movies I ate an entire bag of sour gummy worms and a box of junior mints.

Had a freaky bookstore experience earlier today, not the first time this summer. I originally wrote a longgg paragraph about synchronicity here but I got self conscious and started wondering if hearing other people’s stories about synchronicity is like listening to them talk about their dreams. I personally love talking about dreams (call me and tell me about your crazy dreams!!) but things definitely get lost in translation and sometimes they’re straight boring (like when my old coworkers and I used to dream in Excel, fucckkk). So I get why people find it annoying and here at Bog Girl Summer we can’t afford to alienate any of our readers. All I will say is that I walked into a bookstore today with synchronicity very much on my mind, went to the psychology section to buy a baby Jung text, and there saw a literal sign that said “Staff Pick, Introductory Jung: Synchronicity.” So yes, I bought it. Don’t forget y’all - I have a psychology degree so please don’t come after me about confirmation bias and all that lol. It’s very possible that in this summer of upheaval I’m desperate for some kinda sign that I’m on the right path. Let me have this one 😘

I also bought this postcard which spoke to me because most days I feel like I’m trying to drink out of a firehose

[ceealaina]

Title: who's gonna tell you things aren't so great? Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card Number: 3088 Link: AO3 Square Filled: R5 - Strawberries Ship: IronBros Rating: Teen Major Tags: Fluff and Angst, MIT Era, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting Summary: Jim Rhodes isn't sure how he feels about having the Stark heir for his roommate, right up until he meets Tony and finds he's the very last thing he expected. Word Count: 2340

(Also written for the prompts Drama, Overprotective, and ‘I dare you’ for @rhodeyappreciationweek)

It started on May 2, when Jim’s sister shrieking from the family room had brought him running. “Holy crap, Jimmy,” she had whispered, since their parents weren’t around to read her the riot act over her language. She had gestured wildly at the television. “You’re gonna go to school with the Stark heir!”

Jim had just rolled his eyes, once he had ascertained that there was no actual emergency. “Yeah, me and about ten thousand other people. I’m never even gonna see him, twerp, let alone meet him. And isn’t he like twelve anyway?” 

“Fifteen,” she’d interjected, all heart eyes, and that explained a lot. 

“Right, well, we’re hardly gonna become best buds so you can quit acting like he’s coming home for Thanksgiving.” 

But then his Residence Life Package had arrived, and stuffed into the back of the packet like an afterthought was an extra memo, getting into very detailed specifics about extra security and proprietary rights and privacy in dorm life. And a few weeks after that was the mysterious, free upgrade to a nicer building -- the building that had, in fact, just been slotted for a full remodel and update over the summer, including a top of the line student lounge. Nobody came right out and said it, but Jim knew his luck, and by the time August rolled around, he was pretty sure that Anthony Stark was going to be his roommate. 

*

Moving in was even more chaotic and crazy than Jim had expected, what seemed like thousands of freshmen with their families and all their stuff milling around, waiting for their turn to check in and get their room assignment and their keys. And while they were waiting, he couldn’t help watching all the other kids, wondering which one was his future roommate. 

He’d tried looking up Anthony Stark as his suspicions had grown over the past few months, but while there’d been a lot of mentions of him, the Starks had done a good job of keeping his picture out of the papers. The most recent picture Jim had been able to find was when Anthony had built his first circuit board. At the age of three. Because of course he had. 

So Jim had no idea who he was looking for, which meant that almost every person he saw had the potential of being him. For the millionth time, he let his gaze drift over the quad. There was a guy over in the north-east corner, trying to chat up some girl, who had actual movers there, like eight of them, lined up and waiting to shift all his stuff. And there was -- 

Jim winced as somebody moved away and he spotted a guy that he hadn’t noticed before. He was standing all alone beside a sad little pile of boxes, clutching the handle of a suitcase just a little too tight. He kept switching between looking around with quick, furtive glances, and then staring down at the ground, messy hair falling in front of his face, which was barely visible anyway beneath huge glasses. He had his back pressed up tight against the wall, like he was doing his best to make himself invisible. He looked young, too, and for a brief moment Jim thought that maybe… But no, that didn’t make any sense. The Starks were one of the richest families in America, and he’d read that the baby Stark was already being groomed to be the innovative future of Stark Industries. Of course they wouldn’t just leave him there like that.

He kept looking around, had his guess narrowed down to the guy with the movers and another guy who was simpering as his mother obviously fawned all over him. Neither one of them looked like someone he’d particularly want to be a roommate with, but he couldn’t find it in himself to worry about it. His gaze kept going back to the kid by the wall. Most of the other freshmen were happy, maybe a little nervous, but even the ones who were crying over leaving their families looked excited too. This kid though, looked absolutely terrified, and while he wasn’t crying, he had this quiet sort of sadness about him. His fingers were tapping out an uneven, nervous pattern against his thigh, and Jim felt something twist in his stomach. He’d just about decided to go over and introduce himself, because if anyone needed a friend it was this guy, but then he got distracted by some pointless argument with his sister, and when he looked back over again, the guy was gone, leaving a wake of guilt in Jim’s stomach. 

*

As it turned out, admissions had fucked something up with their check-in system, and so they were hours behind schedule. Rather than waiting in the hot crowd of people, the Rhodes family had elected to grab some lunch in a nice, air conditioned restaurant, and come back when the line had died down a bit. When they made it back to campus, his mother sent Jim up ahead to his room while the rest of the family started unpacking the car. He was hesitating outside the door, double checking the room number against the one scribbled on his sheet of paper, when he heard voices inside. 

“Dad, come on! Can’t you guys stay a little longer? At least until I finish unpacking?” 

The voice wasn’t whiny, or the usual irritated tone that Jim might have expected from a teenager arguing with his parents. Instead he just sounded sad, and so, so disappointed. 

“Anthony, enough!” an older male voice snapped back. “I thought you agreed you weren’t going to cause any drama today.” 

“I’m not,” Anthony said quickly, voice carefully neutral. “I just… I thought you guys would at least stay until I unpacked, and maybe we could get dinner or something before you go.” 

“Well, we’re not.” 

“That’s what all the other kids are doing.” 

It sounded like a last-ditch effort, and Jim could hear Howard Stark’s answering snort as clearly as if he’d been standing beside him. 

“‘What all the other kids are doing?’” he repeated. “And tell me, are you ‘just like’ all the other kids?” 

“No.” The answer was soft, quiet, and just a little resentful. 

“Howard…” That was from a quiet female voice, who Jim assumed was Anthony’s mother. There was a hint of warning in it, but Howard didn’t seem inclined to listen. 

“That’s right, you’re not. You’re a goddamn Stark, and it’s time to grow up and act like it. So no, Mommy and Daddy aren’t going to hold your hand through university. Stop crying about it.” 

Jim winced, feeling a little sick at the derision in his voice. This man was talking to his own son, his only child, and he sounded like he was completely disgusted by him. Jim had gotten in some pretty big arguments with his parents before, but he couldn’t imagine either of them talking to him with that cold indifference in their voices, no matter how angry they were with him. And worse, he couldn’t even figure out what Howard Stark really had to be angry about. His son wanted to have dinner with his parents, when he probably wouldn’t even see them again before Thankgiving? What was wrong with this man? 

 “I’m not crying,” Anthony protested, but even Jim could hear the waver in his voice. “I just… It’s the first day of university, Dad, and I’m younger than everyone here, and it’s… It’s supposed to be a big deal. I thought you’d stay a bit, is all.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Howard bit out, earning another reproachful murmur from his wife. “You know we only brought you up ourselves because it coincided with my meeting with Dr. Franklin. Grow up, Anthony. You may be younger than everyone else, but you’re still old enough to leave home. And if you’re old enough to go to university, you’re old enough to be a goddamn man about it.” 

“I didn’t even want to go to university yet! I wanted to wait until I was the same age as everyone else. You’re the one who insisted I start now, just because of the stupid Stark legacy and because of how good it would look for the stupid investors.” 

“What did you just say to me?” 

Howard’s voice had gone icy cold, and Jim felt unease ripple through him. 

“Howard, that’s enough,” his wife insisted, but he wasn’t listening. 

“No. What did you just say? Come on, son, say it again. I dare you.” 

Jim had never met Anthony Stark, but he felt a sudden wave of overprotectiveness toward him. Before he could think the better of it, he was shoving the door open, walking in with his box in hand like he’d just arrived. 

“Oh, hey!” he said, feigning surprise at the sight of the people in the room. He wasn’t exactly surprised to find that Anthony Stark was the kid he’d spotted earlier on the quad, but it somehow made his whole exchange with his father that much sadder, knowing how alone he’d been out there, surrounded by all those people with their families. He gave him a bright smile, pretending not to notice the red tinge across the tops of Anthony’s cheeks, or the way he gave a hasy swipe at his eyes. “I’m Jim Rhodes. I guess I’m your roommate!” 

For a moment, there was a long, slightly awkward silence, and Jim could tell that they were trying to work out if he’d heard anything. He didn’t let his smile falter, setting his box down on the empty bed. Without a word, Howard and his wife moved into action, saying good-bye to their son and preparing to leave. Jim kept half an eye on them as he unpacked his toiletries from the box and lined them up on his night table, watching Maria wrap an arm around Tony and place a gentle kiss on his cheek before Howard came over to shake his hand, the gesture cold and indifferent.

He didn’t hear what, if anything, they said to him as he left, but then they were gone. Anthony sank onto his bed in their absence in a way that was both disappointed and relieved. He seemed to have forgotten that he wasn’t alone in the room, and Jim found himself clearing his throat a little awkwardly. 

“Uh. You must be Anthony, huh?” he asked, offering out his hand. Anthony looked up at Jim with sharp eyes, and he could see the intelligence there. Somehow, for all he still felt sorry for him, he knew better than to think he was naive. 

“Tony,” he offered, taking Jim’s hand after a beat. “No one calls me Anthony.” He met Jim’s gaze. “My dad only does it when he’s showing off, or pissed at me. Or both.” 

It was said easily, like it was just an absolute fact that Jim had overheard Howard using the name, like that kind of exchange was normal, and Jim winced. Now that the immediate threat was gone, he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself, what to say besides ‘sorry about your family’ which seemed inappropriate, if fitting. But Tony seemed to have that covered too. 

“Strawberry?” he offered, out of the blue, and Jim blinked as he was met with a glass bowl full of fresh, plump strawberries. 

“Uhh…” 

Tony gave him a shy, sweet little smile, at odds with the resigned look he’d been wearing before. “Jarvis, our butler?” He made a face, like he knew how that sounded, and then waved it off. “He snuck them in for me. He knows they’re my favourite.” He shook the jar a little, looking hopeful. It felt like a lot more than a strawberry, Tony so easily sharing the one small bit of joy in what seemed to have been an absolutely shitty day, and Jim didn’t know what he’d been expecting from the Stark heir, but it sure wasn’t this. He took one, popping it in his mouth and Tony beamed at him, looking absolutely delighted that his little gift had been accepted. Jim felt himself getting pulled into the force of that smile. He was pretty sure Tony Stark was going to be the end of him, and he was pretty sure he was going to love every minute of the ride. 

“Listen,” he said quickly, taking a seat beside Tony. “My family’s gonna be here any second, and I feel like I should apologize in advance, because they can kind of be a lot. They mean well, I promise.” 

Tony offered up another shy little smile. “You don’t have to apologize for that,” he told him, a wistful note in his voice. “It sounds… Nice.” 

“Yeah, it kind of is,” Jim admitted. “But you’ll find out soon enough. My momma kinda tends to adopt people, and she’s gonna be ready to trade me for you in about five seconds.” 

Tony gave a little giggle at that, ducking his head, and Jim had to resist the sudden urge to coo because good lord, he was adorable. He felt another surge of anger toward his terrible family; someone thi sweet didn’t deserve that kind of bullshit.

“Anyway, they’re planning to drive back to Philly tonight, and my dad’s already getting antsy about how behind schedule they are, so they probably won’t stay too long once they get me settled. You wanna grab some dinner after they’re gone? Maybe wander around and try to figure out this campus?” 

“Really?” Tony looked heartbreakingly startled. “You want to have dinner with me?” 

Jim nudged against his shoulder. “You seeing a whole lotta other roommates in this room that I’d be grabbing dinner with?” 

Tony snorted, but there was a flush spreading across the tops of his cheeks, a goofy little grin twitching at his lips. “Yeah,” he said softly, half to the bedspread, half glancing shyly up at Jim. “I’d like that a lot. That sounds like a great way to end the day.” 

@tonystarkbingo