#bex watches the summer i turned pretty | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stones-x-bones · 3 years ago

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Pretty Weird Problems || Milo and Bex

TIMING: Last Night PARTIES: @wickedmilo and @inbextween SUMMARY: Bex runs into Milo on a midnight walk and the two decide to stop skirting around what they both already suspect. CONTENT: Domestic abuse mentions, internalized homophobia, Medical blood

Bex was having a good day, and good days usually led to good nights. She’d opted to go for a walk through the Commons, enjoying the fact that it was no longer so flooded. They’d even managed to get the fairy lights that lined the gazebo working and Bex cut across the field to stroll over to it. Mina was busy this evening and Bex had needed a distraction, and what better way to distract herself than taking a nice, long walk. She’d...walked really far, actually. It was strange how free she felt. She’d rode the ferry across the canal and walked all the way from the station to here, without missing a beat. Being normal felt so-- normal. No aches in her body, no fear about being seen, no worries about having to go home and wondering which set of hands was waiting for her. No, she could just go out and do what she wanted, live her life. Live the life she’d always wanted. She finally had everything she wanted.

She wondered if it would all go wrong at some point. That was something that would happen, especially here, especially to her. But, for now, she’d enjoy it. She circled back around the gazebo to the little rock archway and started down, when she heard a familiar voice. It was hazy through her drunken mind, but she recognized it. Moving quickly through the brush, she turned and came upon the boy that had helped her out not too long ago, by swiping a bottle of alcohol for her. She beamed, she couldn’t wait to tell him she was normal. And if she could get what she wanted, maybe he could, too. “Milo!” she called out, waving, “It’s Bex. What’re you doing here?”

Milo had been on the phone to Rio, talking about next to nothing as he cut across the common in a bid to make it home. There was plenty of time before the sunrise was due, but sometimes it was a nice change of pace to sit in the apartment he shared with Harsh. They would cook together, or watch tv, or even pay Summer and Quinn some attention. The older vampire had become a comfort, though he would never admit that out loud. When things were beginning to overwhelm him, he felt safe with Harsh. He felt capable. White Crest, as always, had other plans for him though. And despite having just left Orion’s home, he begrudgingly said goodbye, ending the call as he turned to face whoever had called his name. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, it didn’t take him long to notice Bex. She looked decidedly more upbeat than the last time he had seen her. He wasn’t sure whether that was due to the lack of alcohol in her system, or something else entirely. Glancing up at the sky, as though double checking it was dark, he caught her eye again with a quizzical grin. “How could I forget?” He teased, crossing the distance between them both so that she would no longer feel the need to shout. “What are you doing here?” He countered. “Isn’t it a bit late for a walk?”

“No, I don’t really think so,” Bex said, shrugging. She looked back up and to the sky, fading quickly from sunset oranges to nighttime blues. “I mean, maybe, but the Common is pretty well lit and safe at night. Usually. Back when the portals were open, it sure wasn’t, but that’s all over now! Just a strange bit of gravity fluctuations and occasional snowfall,” she pointed out, grinning. “And I guess the constellations are all whacky, but there’s not much we can do about any of those.” Even if everyone else she’d talked to had been rather distressed about it all, she was finding it hard to be. Not when everything felt good, great. She brought her eyes back down level with Milo’s and smiled. “If you’re worried about me, you don’t need to be. And I uh-- never properly said thanks for last time.” It was still a blur in her mind, stumbling drunk in the park, then being walked back to his apartment and laid in a bed. When she’d woken the next morning, she’d crawled out of the apartment, wincing under harsh sunlight and pretending like she wasn’t curious about his ‘don’t look in the fridge’ rule. Her curiosity had always seemed to be a bane, but like this, it felt more like a boon. Asking questions didn’t get her in trouble anymore. At least, not with her parents. “You never answered my question-- are you just out for a walk, too?”

It wasn’t the first time Bex had said something Milo struggled to keep up with. He only knew about the portals through the experiences of others. Whatever was happening with gravity, and the weather hopefully wouldn’t affect him. Deciding not to ask too many questions, lest he accidentally tempt fate and start floating up towards the sky, he laughed quietly. “White Crest can be really fucking weird.” He muttered, glancing up at the stars himself to see if he might notice any difference in their arrangement. “I mean… it’s probably better to just ignore it, right?” He was only half serious, but it had proven to be a rather efficient coping strategy. Especially when he was faced with the supernatural, things he still didn’t understand, or feel familiar with. Turning his attention back to Bex he was glad to see she seemed to be taking the same approach of acceptance. If something happened to them, they could deal with it. Until then, how was worrying going to help? Returning her smile, he hurried to brush off her thanks. Taking her home to sleep off the alcohol had been far easier than first anticipated. As predicted there was human food in the fridge which he had encouraged her to eat before sleeping. And she had been more than respectful of the boundaries put in place to stop her from finding anything distinctly vampiric. “We’ve all got our shit to deal with.” He shrugged, letting her know he wasn’t about to baby her because she used alcohol to deal with her baggage. Wasn’t he guilty of doing the very same?

“And I trust you.” He added. “If you say you’re okay, you’re okay.” It was the very least he could offer her. He had been told so many times that he had problems, even after adamantly denying the fact. It was important to feel heard, to know you could trust the person you were with. “I mean- you look okay. Good-” He corrected himself. “You look good.” He caught her eye, his smile growing in response as he properly took her in. There was something different, a weight that seemed suddenly absent from her shoulders. “Your question? Oh-” He laughed, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “I actually just left a friend’s house, so kind of? I’m supposed to be walking home, but if you’re up for some company I wouldn’t mind a midnight stroll.” He prompted, secretly hoping she would take him up on his suggestion. He wanted to know why she looked so content, what had compelled her to call out his name. “You can tell me about how miserable it was trying to get home with your hangover. That can’t have been fun.”

“I don’t think ignoring it is really the right answer, no,” Bex said, wringing her hands together, “but knowing what you can and can’t handle is probably a good idea around here.” Her eyes went back up to the stars, and the distress they’d originally caused her was still there, floating just above their heads, millions of billions of miles away. Stars didn’t move. But she had to remind herself that that also meant she wasn’t capable of moving them, either, and therefore nothing could be done. Especially when she didn’t have magic anymore. And she didn’t want it anymore. She smiled. “True, we do, but, like, sometimes we can help each other out with our shit, you know? At least, I’d like to be able to be someone who can help others out, like how you helped me out. It was-- nice, not having to go home for a night.” And it was nice, now, to be able to go home to a life that didn’t threaten her every moment she did something wrong. “Well, thanks, then. For trusting me.” Not many people did, in that way. She’d always been too naive, too ignorant, too “out of the loop” as far as the supernatural was concerned.

She let out a gentle chuckle, in stark contrast to the ridiculous laughter that had consumed her while she’d been drunk. “It’s fine, I know what you mean. I feel good, too. But sure! Yeah, I wouldn’t mind the company. I was just gonna kinda walk around here, maybe towards the lake. Where the night takes me.” Even if she’d been reminded several times that the lake was dangerous and now, without her magic, maybe even more so. She didn’t really care, though. “Oh, god, please don’t make me recount that tale. It was miserable. More so because it was so damn sunny out. I’ve never hated the sun more so than that morning. Or...afternoon. I don’t remember what time it was, just that once I got home I slept the rest of the day.”

Milo laughed, unable to help himself. Despite strongly suspecting Bex was more than human, or at the very least somebody who knew about the supernatural, the idea of her being able to help him with his problems didn’t quite feel believable to him. Even his closest friends couldn’t take away the pain or the trauma. And apparently there was nothing he could do about the constant thirst for blood. “No offense, but I’m not sure what you could do to help me with my shit. Ignoring it has proven to be a pretty reliable mechanism.” Maybe not always, but on the few blissful nights he had been able to drink and forget, he almost, almost felt normal. Human again. And that was as close as he seemed to get to being genuinely okay. A smile tugging at his lips despite the bitter nature of his thoughts, offering Bex a place to stay had been the obvious course of action. He hadn’t considered the fact that he might be helping her beyond ensuring she was safe. “Oh, I- it wasn’t a big deal, you know?” He brushed off her comment with a shrug. “I just- you didn’t want to go home so… I wasn’t about to make you.”

Watching her carefully, curious to understand why trusting her was something she felt the need to thank him for, his smile began to grow. He really did enjoy her company, he wanted her to know that. “You don’t need to thank me for trusting you.” He insisted. He figured he should probably thank her for trusting him too, for not going through his things, or trying to look inside of the fridge. But that would only draw attention to the strange rules he had put in place, and he wasn’t sure that would be a very smart move. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” He added, hoping she could see he was being sincere, while simultaneously diverting the conversation. It didn’t take a genius to realise she was going through a lot, and everyone deserved a break from their struggles, regardless of how they managed to achieve that temporary escape. He laughed again at her reaction to her hangover being mentioned. But this laughter came easily, it was a product of good company. Of memories that were tinged with underlying emotion, but happy on the surface. He could look back on them with a strange sense of fondness. “Yeah, me and the sun don’t exactly get along.” He admitted. “I’m sorry about the blackout curtains, I guess they can make it pretty disorientating when you leave the apartment during the day…” Shit. He realised too late that he had essentially done exactly what he had been trying to avoid. Maybe he hadn’t drawn attention to the fridge, but he had just reminded her the entire apartment existed in a perpetual state of darkness. Nice one, Milo.

Bex had never thought that she was all that good at making friends, but that was back when fear had dictated her every move. Fear of if people might judge her for how she was born, fear of if they would find out about her magic (although she hadn’t called it that back then), fear of if she might hurt them or them her. Fear of if her parents wouldn’t approve and they’d get taken away before she even got a chance to grow close. But that was before, and this was now, and maybe she liked the idea of being friends with Milo, because he was sweet and he was helpful, and she liked that she could make him smile in a way that seemed almost relaxed. “Well, if you ever do think of a way, anything, really, just lemme know. I’d like to, you know, pay it back somehow. Even if it’s just a small thing.” She was quiet for a moment, her face drawing pensive for a moment. “It was a big deal, for me, at least. Even if it wasn’t for you.” She smiled again-- whatever the situation was back then, it didn’t exist now. “But we don’t have to talk about it.”

She perked back up, smoothing her hands along the fringes of her dress. It was one of her dresses that her mother rarely approved of, except at gatherings where she could catch the eye of some rich politico that could help the family. Bex liked it because she felt nice in it and she looked good in it and she’d wanted Mina to see her in it. “Thanks. I hope things are going well for you, too. There seems to be a bit going on around town, huh?” She shrugged, trying not to less the curious questions in her stomach bubble up. Her tendency to run her mouth and ask too many questions had been a downfall for her quite a few times. “Do you like, work overnights or something?” she found herself asking before she could stop herself. She didn’t want to automatically assume anything, but not being out in the sun, having blackout curtains, and an aversion to people looking in the fridge gave Bex a few too many questions.

Milo wasn’t necessarily touched by the sentiment, many people had said similar things to him in the past. He was touched by the fact that Bex obviously meant what she was saying. There weren’t many people he felt like he could genuinely approach with his problems, but despite only knowing each other for a night, and maybe half of a day, Bex was quickly becoming one of those people. A rather impressive feat, all things considered. “I’m not making any promises.” He teased. “I have, uh- some of my problems can be pretty weird.” His smile faltering as he noticed his company’s expression shift, he fell silent again, giving her the space she needed to feel comfortable. “Oh…” He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting her to say, and the rush of emotion that followed her words was unexpected. Not for the first time he felt the unusual urge to protect her, to keep her safe. Was this the way Dani used to feel about him? Before he changed? Before she stopped loving him? He cleared his throat, feeling awkward in the face of such unguarded honesty. “You know the offer is always there… I mean- if you ever need a place to stay. You know where I am.” He might be taking a risk but he almost didn’t care. Her wellbeing was suddenly far more important to him than being sensible.

Not failing to notice the way she brushed herself off, seemingly putting the conversation behind her in preparation to move on, he nodded, taking a moment to contemplate her question. “I didn’t notice for a long time,” he scuffed his feet as he spoke, feeling ridiculous for being so oblivious now that he knew how obvious the Weird of White Crest actually was. “But yeah, there always seems to be a lot going on in this town. The chaos has become pretty hard to escape these past few months.” Would he ever be able to escape it again? He tried not to dwell on the question. “But you know… I guess it is what it is.” Lowering his gaze, the phrase never really helped him to feel any better, but every time he uttered it he found a part of him was secretly hoping it might. He only looked back up again when Bex mentioned the blackout curtains, and he cursed himself for being so stupid. Of course she was going to pick up on that. Of course she was going to be curious. “Oh, I… my roommate does.” It wasn’t technically a lie. Harsh worked nights more often than not, only sneaking out for the occasional day shift when the weather was dark, and gloomy. “I think it’s easier just to leave them up, his schedule can be pretty unpredictable so…”

“Good, you shouldn’t make promises,” Bex said, perhaps a little too excitedly for the topic. It was hard for her to not be happy right now, really. She had everything she ever wanted, and while it wasn’t much, it made her entire life different. Better. “Especially to people you don’t know-- know well.” She caught herself, giving a chuckle at the end of her sentence to try and cover up the slip. “Just cause, you know, sometimes people get weird about that stuff. Especially here. Speaking of which, I was kinda like that, too. Technically I grew up here, but I didn’t ever notice how--” she chewed her tongue a moment-- “strange the place really was until recently.” Until she started leaving her home regularly. Until she’d met Nell in that computer lab. But those details weren’t important. She didn’t even remember telling Milo about Morgan and Nell last time they’d been together, drunk in the park. “And thanks, for the offer. I won’t say it’ll never happen again, but I think I’ve got a good thing going now, so hopefully I won’t have to crash your pad again any time soon.” But in a town like this, she supposed it was a ‘never say never’ sort of situation.

“The offer is there for you, too, you know,” Bex said suddenly, noting the way the conversation shift had turned a bit tense. Maybe not tense, but sometimes people had secrets that they didn’t want to share, and Bex’s curiosity could be seen more as nosiness or digging into things she shouldn’t be digging in. She hated that idea, but people were allowed their secrets, no matter how bad she wanted to know. “Does he? That’s cool. It’s nice that you don’t mind the curtains, either, then. I’m such a morning person. And a night owl. Actually, I don’t really sleep much, but I definitely have never been able to sleep long in the mornings.” Even when she was laying next to Mina, wrapped in her arms. “Are you like, more of a night person, then? The two times I’ve run into you have been at night, which technically isn’t enough for a pattern, but it could be leading to one. No judging if you are! Of course not. It’s just that this place is kind of-- you know, dangerous at night.”

Milo had only been suspicious until now, but after hearing Bex warn him about making promises he would be willing to bet almost anything on her knowing about the supernatural. But how? She didn’t strike him as a hunter, although Dani had always presented herself as caring, and kind. If she was a slayer, wouldn’t he already be dead? So what? A witch, a mara, a werewolf? Or maybe even a human in the know? He wanted to ask, to sate his curiosity, but he forced himself to hold his tongue. “You’re not the first person to tell me that.” He said carefully, wondering whether she might out herself if he hinted at being a part of her world. Raising his eyebrows when she mentioned taking a while to notice the truth of White Crest, he ran over the implication behind her words. Had she been turned too? Was there any way for him to uncover that information without actively asking her? “I know how that goes.” He admitted, framing his words as casual. “Waking up and realising everything is just… different. It’s not an easy thing to navigate but… we’re still here.” He smiled at her, hoping she was right. He had never been the type to judge others but the idea of her being happy enough to no longer need her crutch was a genuinely nice one. One he was willing to root for.

Surprised to hear his own offer echoed back to him, he felt his demeanour soften. Every instinct in him was telling him he could trust Bex. It was so hard to remind himself that those instincts could possibly be wrong. “They don’t… they don’t bother me.” He said, debating how far he could conceivably push the conversation before he was being too open, before he was putting himself at risk. “I don’t really sleep anymore… but I used to sleep until noon when I could.” Not that he hadn’t tried more than once to do so again, the best he could achieve was a strange, trance-like lack of consciousness. He hated it. “Oh, yeah… I’m definitely a night person. I always have been… before I started partying I used to study at night.” He laughed quietly at the contrast in activities. “My life would be very different if I didn’t abandon academia.” A soft sigh escaping him, he caught his friend’s eye when she told him the town could be dangerous. He could still remember what it felt like, living in blissful ignorance. He missed it. “Believe me, I know. I kind of found out the hard way… but I appreciate the heads up.”

“Really? Well, that’s good.” Bex nodded slowly. Her suspicion was slowly being confirmed-- Milo knew something about the supernatural. She didn’t know how he fit in, but she assumed he had the same thought about her. How did they both fit in? And who would break first? It would be Bex, she knew that. Being a witch wasn’t as precarious as being something like a zombie or a werewolf. Something that people actively hated and hunted. Witch hunters, for all she was aware, were a rare and unnecessary occurrence. She wasn’t in danger of them. “You should listen to that advice, then. And also maybe even hold off on saying ‘thanks’ too much. My girlf--” the word stuck in her throat, like it always did, and she swallowed it, “--one of my friends told me to try and replace ‘thanks’ with ‘I appreciate that’ or ‘I’m grateful for’. They’re better to say, anyway.” Smiled, trying to brush off the mishap. It was strange to her that possibly telling someone she had magic was easier to swallow than telling someone she was dating a girl. “I think, for me,” she started off, brows knitting together a moment, “it was less waking up and just realizing it and more...finally admitting to myself that things here were different. Like, I’d always known, but pretended I hadn’t. But then things happen and you can’t really deny it anymore, you know? And so I admitted it,” she shrugged, “I think things technically got better after that, although sometimes it doesn’t seem that way.”

She examined his face as they walked and wondered what the strange curve of his brow meant as he answered her. She’d never been good at reading expressions on people, unless they carried anger. She tilted her head in contemplation. “You know, you can always go back,” she said, “to school. College doesn’t have an age cap.” Sometimes she’d wished she’d been able to wait to start college, but not because she was disinterested. But because her life had been messy back then, and maybe if she’d been smarter, had known more about the world, she wouldn’t have fallen into bed with the first girl who cast her an empathetic glance. She turned away, cheeks slightly tinged. “Yeah, me, too. I-- I take it you’re okay now? It-- I mean, physically? Whatever happened. Was it--” had something attacked him, too? Did he also have the sting of scars on his body from an ignorance that had left him vulnerable?

“I guess my friends are much smarter than I am.” Milo was only half joking. Even after suffering at the hands of the supernatural, he was reckless in his behaviour. Without Rio constantly pressing him to stay focused, to pay attention, he would probably be in a lot more danger, and he wasn’t afraid to admit that. “I try.” He admitted, being entirely honest. Trying meant he failed more often than not, but the warning was always there in the back of his mind. A knowing smile tugging at his lips as Bex stumbled over the word girlfriend, it was an act he had seen many times before, and one he knew not to interrupt. That didn’t stop his eyes from shining as he wondered who this ‘girlfriend’ might be. “My friend told me the same,” he thought back to his conversation with Orion. It was the first night he had ever spent in his house, and he held the memories very close to his heart. Falling silent to listen again, he dissected the explanation he was given in his mind. If she hadn’t woken up to a different White Crest then maybe she had been born into it. Surely it took Dani a long time to realise the way she was being raised wasn’t normal. Could it have been the same for Bex? “They did?” He asked quietly, hope lacing his tone as he wondered whether there was a chance for things to get better for him. Maybe one day he could fully embrace being a vampire. It could become what he was and not what someone had made him.

“Go back?” It took him a few seconds to realise what his company meant. He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “I don’t need to,” he explained. “I got my degree, you know? I did what my parents wanted me to do, even if it wasn’t in the way they wanted me to do it.” Hiding whiskey in his coffee during exams, and skipping out on morning lectures because he was hungover from the previous night definitely wasn’t a part of their plan. Neither was a degree in English Literature. But as far as he was concerned, it was an achievement, all the same. What would he study if he did decide to return? And how would he work around the schedules when the majority of classes took place during the day? Furrowing his brow, he forced the thought to the back of his mind. He had chosen his path, and it had led him here. There was no going back. “Oh- I-” He wasn’t prepared for the sudden change in direction, and his hand absentmindedly moved to rest against the scars on his neck. “That kind of depends on your definition of okay.” He murmured, thinking about Dani, how she saw him as a monster. Then Harsh, who told him he was dead, but being dead was simply an opportunity to start anew. Then Macleod, who insisted with vehement conviction that he wasn’t dead, he hadn’t died. Only changed. Evolved for better or for worse. “How did you find out?” He asked, uncharacteristically bold in his question. They had been dancing around the subject, but he wanted to know now, far more than he wanted to protect himself. Even if he wasn’t quite ready to give up his secret. “That White Crest was different?”

“They did? Oh, well, then, you should definitely listen to your smarter friends,” Bex nodded. Had she said too much? Did Milo know about the fae? Was Milo’s friend a fae? Oh, she hoped she hadn’t just exposed someone, even if she was curious. But the tone in his voice stopped her short of any other thoughts on the subject, when he gave the smallest response to her announcement that things had gotten better for her. It was hope, and it felt like it might strangle Bex. Should she tell Milo about Erin? Was that her place to? Was his pain anything like hers? Did he need saving like she had? She swallowed. “They did. Get better. But not easily. Not out of nowhere.” She lifted a hand to her ribs-- the injury was gone, but she could still remember the pain. Still remembered what it felt like when her head had hit the dumpster, over and over and over again. “I had help, too. So, if-- just, you know, so you know...it’s okay to accept help, if you need it.” Maybe that was the best answer she could give for now. She clasped her hands together behind her back as they walked and watched her feet a moment, shoes brushing against grass under the rubber soles.

“Well, you know, you could always go back and do what you wanted to, you know,” she pointed out. “Instead of what your parents wanted of you. But only if that’s something you want to do.” She didn’t much like his answer to her question, either. Things didn’t seem as at ease as she’d thought they were when she first spotted him. She bit her lip, then sighed. “I blew up a computer lab with my mind,” she blurted, suddenly. “Well, not my mind, technically. Maybe? I’m still not sure what magic actually comes from. My mentor says it’s from the soul or the energy inside of us, but if our bodies are our minds, then I guess technically it is my mind. From my mind. So, yeah-- I blew up a computer lab with my mind and after that, it was hard to deny all the things I’d known for so long but never wanted to accept.” She looked over at Milo. “What um...what about you?”

Milo laughed, nodding in agreement with Bex. “I don’t think I would be here if I didn’t.” He admitted. Maybe there was an element of exaggeration to his words, but the information provided by people like Rio, and Macleod was invaluable. There was no doubt in his mind that it might save him one day. Fingers still pressed against the base of his neck, he could feel the scars beneath them. A frown creasing his brow as he listened to Bex explain things were difficult, they hadn’t miraculously changed for her overnight, it was impossible for him to understand what she meant without a little extra context, so he nodded quietly. Letting her know she still had his full attention. “Help?” He asked, curious to know what kind of help. “Do you mean your friends?” Lowering his hand, chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip, he wondered what things would look like for him if they did get better. It was a vague concept, it could mean so many different things. “I don’t need help-” He insisted, breaking off as he reminded himself she wasn’t talking about his habits. Repressing the instinctive response, he forced down any part of himself that was becoming defensive. Bex clearly wasn’t about to order him to walk into an AA meeting. She was talking about something else. “I mean… thank you. But I think I’m okay… kind of, anyway. I have some good people in my life… when things get weird, they’re usually there waiting for me to freak out.”

Thinking for a moment, allowing a few beats of silence to pass, he realised with a start that he didn’t know what he wanted to do. For so long he had told himself he was content with working in the comic book store, couch surfing to avoid any form of genuine commitment. Even English Literature had been the easy choice, not necessarily the choice he would have made if he was a different person. If he had more motivation, a determination to do well. “Even if I knew, I don’t know how possible it would be to just go out and do shit.” He shrugged, brushing off his honesty before it could hurt him, before he could dwell on it for too long. But then Bex was distracting him with her own honesty, honesty he had prompted, but definitely not been expecting from her. It took him a few minutes to fully process what she was saying, but when he did he faltered to a halt, eyeing her with an even mixture of disbelief, and satisfaction. “Wait- what?” So not only was she supernatural, she had totally caved first. Was it wrong to feel so smug about that? “You’re a witch?” He asked, despite her just having confirmed the fact. “I…” He trailed off as she turned the question back on him, not prepared to answer it himself. But he owed her, he couldn’t exactly walk away after she had put herself in such a vulnerable position. A soft sigh escaping him, he steeled himself to tell her his own story. Or a part of it, at least. “Someone with fangs decided I looked like a snack… I guess they overindulged because…” He offered her a hesitant smile, revealing his fangs in the way Harsh had taught him to. He tapped one absentmindedly, wrinkling his nose. “Well, I woke up with these.”

Bex was a little perplexed at his immediate denial of needing help, clearly he needed help-- anyone in this god forsaken town needed help, if she was being honest. But just as much as she’d needed to understand that she couldn’t do things alone, so did he. She wouldn’t push it, it wasn’t a lesson she had the right to teach anyone, when she was still learning it herself. She nodded slowly. “Okay, well, if you do ever need it, just know I’m here. Don’t hesitate to ask. And--” she looked at him sincerely, genuinely hoping he understood that, even if they’d only known each other from two run-ins, she would help him. It was really all she wanted to do, help people. Understand things better so she could do that better. Understand this world. “I’m glad you have people there to help you. Having a support system is always good.” She wouldn’t have survived this town without hers, that was for sure. A subconscious hand ran across her chest. Kyle’s life would have been ruined had he actually killed her that first night. She wanted to make sure something like that never happened again. And it wouldn’t, now that her magic was gone.

“Why not?” Bex asked, not understanding the restrictions Milo might face without knowing what he was. She didn’t want to push, though. She turned away, even as he stopped in his tracks, and shrugged. “I prefer the term spellcaster,” she said, picking at a seam on her dress. And the proper wording would’ve been was a spellcaster, thanks to the wish. She didn’t feel like explaining that part yet, though. His hesitation brought her gaze back up. “I-I’m sorry! You don’t have to answer, I understand--” but then he was answering. Someone with fangs. A vampire. Bex felt her chest squeeze and she swallowed, trying to remind herself that vampires were people, too, and her one run-in with the woman outside the library wasn’t representative of all vampires. She had no reason not to trust Milo. What would Mina say? She shook her head. “Oh,” she answered, finally, “I-- that must be difficult, to-- to adjust to.” A pause. “But,, you know, night school is a thing. And there’s plenty of overnight jobs here. And-- I have a friend who’s also undead. They go to the butchers here to get food and they’re really good about it. And being discreet. Do you-- I mean the blood thing-- do you have enough? Do you get enough food? You drink animal blood, right?”

Milo looked at Bex as she paused, somehow everything she wanted to say was conveyed in her brief moment of silence, and he knew. He understood. “Thank you.” He said, his voice gentle and sincere. They hadn’t known each other for long but he felt as though they had more than a few things in common. Coping mechanisms, and trauma. The kind of things you could bond over. The kind of things that made you want to protect each other. When he had helped her into the bar, when he had stolen her that bottle of vodka, he had recognised something in her. Something that reminded him so deeply of himself. Even without the alcohol it was still there. He could still see it. “Do you have one?” He asked, remembering her mention of Morgan, and Nell. People she had been so sure she would never be able to see again. “A support system?” Making a vague gesture with his hands, brushing off her question as to why he wouldn’t be able to follow his non-existent dreams, he offered her a smile instead of an answer. “Spellcaster?” He echoed, using her correction as a way to move the conversation forward. Away from the things he could no longer do. “Is that personal preference, or just a general rule?” He was reminded of Macleod, the way she hated any terminology that referred to her as dead.

His smile growing somewhat as she hurried to insist he didn’t have to tell her what he was, keeping the information to himself would feel incredibly unfair, but he appreciated her attempt at making him feel comfortable. “No, no- it’s okay…” He did his best to assure her. “You were honest with me… it’d be kind of a dick move if I wasn’t honest with you too.” His hand moving once again to rest over the scars on his neck, he heard her heart rate elevate, but she made no outward move to imply she was nervous. He didn’t enjoy the idea of scaring people, and hopefully it wouldn’t take long for her to realise he wasn’t a genuine threat. But it still hurt, jut a little. “It was.” He agreed. “It is… I mean- I was thrown into this world I didn’t even know was real. The guy who did this to me, he left… I literally didn’t know anything.” A quiet laugh escaping him at the mention of night school, he shook his head. He couldn’t even begin to imagine going back to school. What would he achieve? What would he gain from doing so? This was his life now, and there was no escaping it. “I assume you mean Morgan?” He asked, at the mention of a friend being dead. “You mentioned her when you were pretty out of it… but I know her. I’m pretty sure she hates me.” His eyes shining to let Bex know he was half teasing, he thought back to his last conversation with Morgan and wondered whether there might be some truth to his words. They didn’t exactly see eye to eye. “Oh-” He was pulled out of his thoughts by the mention of blood, caught off guard by what felt like an incredibly personal question. “For a while…” He admitted. “I got lucky. I don’t want to out anyone but I have a friend with a habit of taking a blood bag or two from the hospital... It’s enough to keep me going.” Maybe more than enough, but he didn’t want to make Harsh sound like more of a deviant than he technically was. If he got the man into trouble then their collective supply would be in danger. “Everything kind of worked out…”

“I do have one, yeah,” Bex answered with a nod. For a while there, she hadn’t. Or, well, she’d rejected it, because she thought they’d be hurt by her family if she’d kept trying. They’d all been hurt, anyway, though, so it hadn’t mattered in the end. She’d made the wrong decision. But that was the past, and she couldn’t change that past anymore than she could change the way she grew up. “It was...rough for a while, i tried to do it without them, but it was a mistake. There’s--” she took in a breath, wrapped her arms around herself, “--I learned the hard way that I can’t protect anyone by keeping them away. Even if keeping close means they might get hurt, it-- it’s better that way. It really is.” And she was still learning that, too. Even now, with a normal life, a regular life, she was learning to accept people back into her life, despite the possible threats she’d be introducing them to. She shook her head, grateful for the change of conversation. ‘Nope, just a me thing.” She glanced over at Milo. “I think it’s all kind of the same meaning, but I just-- witch carries a weird connotation for me, I guess. I’m not pagan so I just...don’t feel right being called that.”

HIs next words made Bex’s heart constrict a bit. He was right, it was really only fair of someone to be honest with another if they shared something deep and personal. Her thoughts jumped to Eddie and his confession to her and she bit the inside of her cheek. She needed to tell him. He deserved to know, even if she could barely admit it outloud still. “Oh, I-- i did? So you know about her?” she was surprised, but not too surprised. She loved Morgan, of course she’d talked about her while wasted. She rubbed her hands together. “I-- I don’t think she hates you. I think it takes a lot for Morgan to hate someone. I’d probably know if she hated you, she’s not subtle about it.” It was her turn to falter and pause, and she felt herself take a small step backwards. “You-- so you--” her eyes went to his fangs, then his eyes, his hand still pressed over his neck, presumably where his scars were. She had some of her own, even if they hadn’t turned into a reminder of death. “You drink human blood?” ethically sourced, at least. Well, more ethical than getting it from a warm body itself. Stealing blood from the hospital wasn’t exactly the most moral thing to do, but morality, she reminded herself, was skewed in the supernatural world. She rubbed her neck. “I-- I should probably um, head home, though. It’s getting late and Mina is expecting me back soon.” She didn’t want to things to suddenly feel tense, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t know how she felt about a vampire who still drank human blood, and she didn’t think figuring out here was the best idea. She liked Milo, she didn’t want to ruin that.

“That’s good.” Milo smiled, remembering how insistent Bex had been when she was drunk, determined to believe she couldn’t let people in. The fact that she seemed to have changed her mind felt important, and he was reminded of her telling him things were better now. Better how? What was suddenly so different? “I think there’s always a risk of getting hurt… or of other people getting hurt. Isn’t that just the nature of friendship?” And romance, though he could hardly say he was experienced in that particular area. “What matters is that you care, and that these people care about you too… that’s all you can ask for, really. Isn’t it?” Staying silent as his company began to explain why she preferred using the term spellcaster, he hadn’t been expecting to understand her logic, even he was determined to respect it. But he did understand. It was so similar to Macleod, and sometimes even the way he felt. Vampire had connotations too, dark ones, and ridiculous ones. Honestly, there was something appealing about the theatrics of sleeping in a coffin. He was almost sad that wasn’t a legitimate thing.

“I do, yeah. And you might have mentioned her.” He teased, catching her eye with an easy grin. “Only in passing, don’t worry. You didn’t tell me anything you shouldn’t have. You made it pretty clear you were friends, that’s all.” Laughing at Bex insisting Morgan didn’t hate him, he shook his head, remembering some of what was said during their last meeting together. If she didn’t hate him then she was about as close as a person could get before crossing that line. “Ask her about me, see what she says.” He wasn’t being entirely serious, but he had a strong suspicion the zombie wouldn’t have anything positive to say. Not that it mattered. If she wasn’t going to help him then he didn’t give a shit what she thought. Faltering at the sudden shift in the way Bex was looking at him, he saw her gaze flicker from his fangs, to his hand, and he realised he was still touching his neck. Lowering his arm, he retracted his fangs with a surprising level of ease, his own expression shifting too. “I do,” he said quietly, watching her with open concern, trying to ignore the way his heart was sinking. Maybe he was wrong, maybe she didn’t trust him in the way he thought she did. “I- what?” He cursed himself for being so emotional, but he couldn’t stop tears from stinging at his eyes. “I’m not- I wouldn’t hurt anyone... I swear…” He swallowed, unsure what he could say to make her believe him. If she was uncomfortable, he wasn’t about to force her to stay. But did she really want to leave because of what he was?

“Yeah,” Bex admitted quietly, “I guess it is.” Even if she still hated the thought of people getting hurt because of her, for her. But they returned the sentiment, and wasn’t rejecting their help hurting her? It was still confusing, but the one thing Bex did know was that being at Morgan’s, even if it put her and everyone in that house in possible danger, felt better than being alone, trapped in her room where people got hurt because of her anyway. She rubbed her palm against her cheek before folding her arms across her chest again, nodding. “Yeah, it is. And it’s-- a lot. But I know now I can ask for that. And-- I think everyone deserves that.” Even people others deemed bad or evil. No one deserved to suffer alone. She wasn’t even sure she believed her mother deserved that.

“Oh, good. Good. I...can run my mouth sometimes. I’ve been told it’s very unbecoming of me, but I don’t really care anymore,” she said, the last words bitter on her tongue. She swallowed it. Her heart clenched again, at the way Milo was looking at her. She was caught between her own trauma and her want to change, to accept people, to accept this world, and it felt sticky. She hated it there. But she’d forgiven Kyle, and he’d been the one to directly attack her. Fuck, she probably even forgave the wolf that attacked the Moose Caboose, even if everyone around her seemed to think that was wrong to do. “No, no! It-- I don’t mean it like that. I swear it’s not because--” she stopped herself, trying not to let the shame crawling up her throat tinge her words, “I just-- something happened to me. With a vampire. And I don’t want that to, to affect how I feel about you. I really don’t. But it’s-- you know, hard? I don’t think you’re going to hurt me, Milo. And-- and if you did, I know it would be an accident. I promise it’s not because of you. I promise.” She’d promise to a fae, too, but there were none around, and she knew Mina would chastise her for it. She offered a hand out to him, instead, in a show of faith. “I really do need to be home, though.” She held up her phone, “they get worried if I’m late.” Because of the one time she’d been kidnapped by Frank, but that wasn’t important to mention. He was dead, now, and her life was normal. Things like that just didn’t happen anymore.

Milo had a feeling Bex was talking more to herself than to him, so he allowed her to speak, listening patiently until she fell silent once again. It wasn’t something he considered very often, so wrapped up in the chaotic nature of his life. Friends used to come and go, aside from Dani who had stood by him for so many years. Only now was he beginning to realise how badly he had taken her for granted. Though he had new friends now, friends who weren’t about to abandon him because of something he couldn’t help, a part of himself he couldn’t ever hope to change. She was right. Everybody deserved to be cared for, to be surrounded by friendship, and unwavering support. Offering her a smile when she told him she had a habit of saying too much, he could definitely relate to that. His love of bitter quips, and sulking petulantly about his new state of being had resulted in him essentially outing himself on more than one occasion. “I can relate to that.” He admitted. “But don’t worry, you didn’t say anything you should be concerned about. And you’re right not to care. Screw unbecoming, just be who you are… there’s no point in trying to be anybody else. It’ll only make you miserable.”

His expression faltering when Bex hurried to insist her sudden desperation to leave had nothing to do with him telling her he was a vampire, he wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t. “No offense, but I don’t know how else you could mean it…” He muttered, letting out a quiet huff of breath. He averted his gaze, avoiding eye contact so that he could stare down at his feet. He should let her go, he knew he should. What use was there in trying to cling to a friendship as new as this one when she was so clearly uncomfortable now that she knew what he really was? Swallowing his emotion, he frowned, hesitantly catching her eye again. “No shit... something happened to me with a vampire too.” He pointed out. “I didn’t ask for this. You think I don’t know how hard it is to get over? Try waking up as the thing that attacked you…” Feeling his shoulders drop when she assured him she felt safe, part of him still felt worried she wasn’t being entirely truthful. But the sentiment mattered, the fact that she was even trying to assure him mattered. Allowing his anger to dissolve, he knew it was too late to take back his words. So he moved on. Caught off guard by the unexpected promise, a weak smile began to tug at his lips. “You know… you really shouldn’t make promises.” He teased, unable to help himself. He couldn’t think of a better way to alleviate the tension. Ignoring the phone as it was held out to him, he gently reached out to take her hand, linking their fingers for a brief moment, hoping to convey everything he didn’t know how to put into words. He was trying. He was good. He was a victim too. “You should, uh… you should get home.” He said finally, ignoring what was left of the awkward tension. “It’s okay…”

Bex gave a sigh of relief. At least she hadn’t outed Morgan or Nell. She never would’ve forgiven herself, even if it was to someone who wouldn’t use it against them. She’d never had problems drinking before, but those nights had been spent locked up in the library or her room while she cradled the bottle as if it were her only lifeline. She gave a short, self-deprecating chuckle before her lips curled into a thin smile. “Trust me, I know that.” She’d been miserable her entire life because she’d done just that. But things were different now, she reminded herself. Things were better.

Her heart sank, knowing that she’d already done more damage than she’d ever meant to. But Morgan had told her to not just ignore her trauma, that wasn’t good for her. And as much as she didn’t blame the vampire on campus, she still thought about the attack and what Dani had said. She wasn’t going to stop. And if she hadn’t, Bex would be standing with the same pain as Milo, or not here at all. She let him be upset, he was allowed to be upset. She hadn’t asked for any of this, either. She understood that feeling. “You’re right,” she said, “I don’t know how that feels.” But she did know how waking up after being attacked by a friend felt. She did know the fear of thinking she might wake like that, or not wake at all. She rubbed her chest. Smiled enough to try and brush off the feeling. “You can if they’re really important,” she answered. Squeezed his hand back, before pulling away. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Maybe next time we can just hang out somewhere nice. I know a few good places.” Her phone buzzed again and she glanced down at it. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” she said to him, a small tease, before she waved and headed off back towards home. She wondered what Morgan might think. She wondered what Mina might think. She wondered if, at the end of the day, it mattered. She liked Milo, and she wanted to be his friend. She owed it to him to try, at least.

#chatzy #chatzy: milo #wickedswriting #pretty weird problems #milo #domestic abuse tw #internalized homophobia tw #medical blood tw

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harryandmolly · 5 years ago

Text

Complicit // 8

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW (the kind that anon politely asked me not to write but I did it anyway -- this is your warning, sweet friend), alarming tenderness... and what comes after

WC: 6.9k

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S.M.: Can I ask you for something?

Penny wakes up to see a text sent at 2:30am on the morning of her day date with Shawn. He requested the day date specifically -- he’s been in Europe for a week for a festival in Helsinki and his body clock is so fucked up he feels sick when he tries to figure out what day it is.

He has the day to himself before he has a Bex outing planned for that evening -- drinks at The Nice Guy, some kissing and maybe a little minor groping outside the cars as they leave conspicuously together. He wants to spend those hours before, his hours, with Penny.

Orthodontist: You may.

S.M.: Can we be cozy? I want to see you but I’m fucking wiped out. Cozy sweats day?

Penny frowns at the frantic tugging in her gut, the one Silver trained to save her from something all escorts go through at one point or another, the one that should make her wary of the potential intimacy of something like this. Penny clears her throat and lets her thumbs fly.

Orthodontist: Of course. See you soon.

She’s paid to give the client what they want. If they want the girlfriend experience, that’s what she’ll do. It’s not unique to Shawn, anyway. Plenty of clients have asked for lower key dates once they get comfortable with her. She understands that, the need for that kind of comfort. She used to need that, too.

But the tugging reminds her of the other circumstance. Shawn requested a house call. Again, not unique to him at all. But she has this funny feeling that if Silver took a look at her schedule and saw the date herself, she’d make that carefully concerned-but-not-too-concerned-because-you’re-a-grown-up-and-my-business-partner face. She loves Silver endlessly, but that face makes her feel small.

Penny shakes her head, but just minutely in case he’s watching her walk up through the window. She focuses on the date, on being prepared for whatever he may need from her when she walks through that door.

Client’s needs. Client’s needs.

Penny lets it take over like a mantra as she parks her normal car, the leased white 2021 Passat, beside his Tesla in his driveway like she’s done it a million times. She walks up the steps and rings the doorbell, tucking her hands into the front pocket of her Ivy Park hoodie, trying to look anywhere but right at his front door.

When it swings open, she feels like her heart has spilled out onto her shoes. He’s in a pair of green and blue plaid pajama pants that are inexplicably a little long and pooling around his ankles, despite his impressive height, and a big, loose t-shirt. His hair is wet. He smells like warm soap. His smile is soft and flat. He stands aside to let her in.

“Hi, Penny.”

She hides the full body shiver by doing a quick turn like she’s interested in looking around his foyer. She plasters on a smile.

She’s in his house.

“Hi, Shawn.”

He reaches a hand for her. She knows it’ll be soft and hot from his shower. She braces herself to take it. He tugs her forward, the corner of his mouth lifting as he pulls her in for a kiss. She nearly trips into him, her Ugg moccasins bumping into his bare toes as his nose nudges hers and it’s so startlingly intimate that she purrs into his mouth like he’s not paying for her time.

He curls his hands around her hips and starts to lead her into the house. She follows, taking tiny steps between his feet as he continues kissing her -- quick, open-mouthed kisses.

“Can I just keep kissing you for a while?” he asks, his teeth clanging against hers as he smiles, his eyes shut. She gives him a breathy hum and a nod in response. He guides them through his house blind, ignorant of her curious eyes scanning the area as they go. Her hand rises from his shoulder to cup the back of his head just before it smacks into his closed bedroom door.

He grunts, reaching for the handle to let them in. It’s dark inside -- he’s got those good blackout curtains, the heavy ones that turn any room into a cave. It’s pleasantly cool with a haphazardly made up squishy gray duvet on the bed, nondescript but cozy. Shawn reaches for a lamp on the dresser and it casts the room in a warm orange glaze of light. He sighs contentedly on the way back to her lips. She feels it in her bones as she wraps around him.

She steps out of her moccasins to rise higher on her toes to meet him. His hands wander, curiously, not hungrily, over the worn cotton surface of her hoodie. He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls her in, tucking her around him to straddle him. Penny goes willingly, settling low enough on his thighs that she’s not plastered up against him, but perched comfortably in his lap.

Penny gives Shawn a breather by tucking kisses down his jaw and into his neck. The marks she left last time have all faded back into lightly bronzed summer skin. She kisses and sucks gently, not enough to bruise. Shawn’s fingers twist into the ends of her hair, pulling more teasingly than desperately.

Over his shoulder she spies several ripped up citrus peels on his night stand -- tangerines, she thinks. They have extra bits of pith picked off and spread on top. They explain the bright fruity taste of his mouth.

Penny closes her eyes again and feels him shiver as her teeth graze his jugular. She thinks she could’ve lived without knowing he peels the extra bits of pith off his citrus.

Penny separates from his wet skin with a deep inhale, pressing her hands into his chest to push him back. He goes with a soft smile. Her good boy knows better than to grab at her to drag her with him.

She folds herself over him, gazing between his lips and his flooded brown eyes when he stops her, grunting a little as he raises his chin.

“Where did all these come from?”

He’s staring up at her in wonder, just below her eyes. Her brow furrows. She leans onto one hand to lift her fingers up to graze her nose.

“My freckles?

He beams so wide and lazy it makes her smile too without knowing what they’re grinning about.

“Yeah. You’ve been hiding these under makeup?”

She shrugs.

He lets his eyes trail over the course of them -- a heavy sprinkle over her nose and cheekbones, growing sparse and light down her cheeks.

Shawn closes his eyes and sighs. “Didn’t think you could get prettier.”

Penny dips her head to kiss the spot between his collarbones, tugging at the collar of his shirt to reach it.

“How was Finland?” she finally stammers, needing to put something between them and… this.

“Weirdly hot. And the food was really good.”

She doesn’t bother to point out that she’s been there with the Aston Martin guy. Instead, she nods and watches his blinks get slower and slower.

She wets her lips. “It must’ve been nice to have a break.”

His eyes refocus on her. He stares questioningly.

“From the American press, I mean. I’ve seen a lot of you and Bex lately. Which I guess means that’s going the way it was planned.”

She doesn’t sound bitter or flippant, just matter-of-fact. Shawn ignores the tiny voice that wishes he could accuse her of jealousy. He knows he wouldn’t like her response if he did.

“Yeah,” he hums, “Her album sales have gone up. Mine are projected to be… pretty good.”

He’s being modest. His album is one of the single most anticipated releases of the fall. But thinking about that makes him want to throw up so he chooses to suck on her bottom lip again, re-memorize the little dip in the middle where he likes to flick his tongue.

“It’s ok, you know,” she breathes after he pulls back, “That you don’t want to talk about it with me. I understand it’s… maybe confusing.”

Shawn shakes his head. “It’s not that. Honestly, I’m better talking about it with you than anyone else. I know you’d never judge me.”

She smiles, a little warm, a little sad. “It’s true. The prostitute can’t be throwing stones at any glass… anything.”

Shawn actually chuckles. It’s odd how quickly it happened, but he’s long since gotten used to the notion that she’s a paid sex worker. He probably got over it somewhere around the third orgasm. He knows what Niall meant now about it being like a form of therapy. The stigma doesn’t bother him like it once did.

He lowers his gaze to the strings on her hoodie. “I guess I just like mostly pretending it’s not happening. It’s not… it’s not like I’m miserable around her. She’s a nice girl, she’s fun. But I built a whole relationship with my fans on always being honest. I told them everything, I promised I always would. I gave them everything. Because they’ve given me everything.”

Penny nods. “You made those promises as a teenager. Your life hasn’t been simple in a long time, but it sure as hell was simpler then. You’re a grown man now. No real adult’s life is so easily lived in the spotlight. I know you know that, you’ve lived through some of that already. The rest of the world has to figure out how to deal with you now, how to approach you differently. I don’t think they’ll need much more time. The Bex thing, as much as I know it makes you squirm, it’s working.”

Shawn closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath, feeling it rattle in his chest as tears threaten. He’s so fucking tired.

“It’s working,” he agrees in a croak.

Penny knows enough to move on now. She slides up his body so their heads are level. She teases his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue.

“Your bed is comfy,” she coos, rocking from side to side with a grin.

Shawn seems grateful for the distraction. “You like it?”

“I do. Your place is nice. It’s big but cozy, like you.”

Shawn smiles, releases a little chuckle through his nose. “It’s nice like this… with you. In sweats and t-shirts, just… y’know. It’s easy.”

Penny’s smile grows a little dangerous in that way he loves. “Who said I was gonna make it easy, baby?”

Shawn groans. “You never do. It’s what I like about you.”

Penny purrs, ducking her face back into his neck, on the other side this time as he cradles her. Her fingers sneak up under his shirt, teasing the soft hair on his stomach that trails into his pajama pants. He releases a breath into her hair as his muscles contract.

“What can I do for you, baby? What would you like?”

She usually chooses for them. He usually wants her to. But she must have sensed that he was holding back, wanting to ask. He sighs.

“In the shower I was thinking about… after the cock ring. What we did after.”

Penny’s eyebrows raise. Her heart picks up pace against her ribs. She stays cool and purses her lips.

“What was it we did after, Shawn?”

Shawn’s cheeks start to flush. He rolls his eyes. “You want me to tell you I want you to fuck me in the ass?”

Penny’s eyes go bright with delighted shock. She laughs, “That’s exactly what I want.”

Shawn, never one to deny Penny what she wants, manages to get his mouth around the words, his eyes sliding shut. “I want it, Pen. I want to take your cock like a good boy.”

Penny growls before he even gets the words out. She drops her weight against him, rocking her hips automatically in a way that gets him groaning into her plundering mouth. Before they can get too lost in their almost teenage humping, warmth trapped under layers of clothes, Penny straightens up on her arms, perched over him.

“Did you get ready for it in the shower?”

He nods and glances around his room like he’s just realized something.

“Where’s your suitcase?”

She grins. “I traveled light today. I brought a purse.”

He eyes her. “You… have a strap on in your Prada bag?”

Penny tilts her head. “I’m always prepared.”

She sits up in his lap and stretches her arms up, shedding the bulky hoodie, bare underneath. Shawn whines so loud his torso clenches.

He pants, “Can I touch your nipples?”

Penny nods, continuing her hips’ assault against his. She rolls against him, feeling him go fully hard under the thin flannel fabric of his pants, angling herself so his cock slips against her swollen cunt through her leggings. Shawn’s hands go straight to her breasts, cupping their fullness and positioning his thumbs right over her hard buds, the ones he treated so well he made her come without touching her perfect pussy. He smirks at the memory.

“Thinking about it, baby? About how hard you had me coming just with your pretty mouth on my tits?”

Shawn’s head falls back as he mewls. He loves it when she gets mouthy like this. She’s excited, he can feel it. He thinks maybe she likes pegging him as much as he likes being pegged by her.

Shawn scrapes the tips of his fingernails against her nipples like she likes and it’s like striking a match. Her back stiffens, she groans, loud and deep. He watches them go diamond hard between his fingers, squeezing a little just to get a last dirty thrust of her hips against his before she really goes to work on him. She knows his game and gives him a crooked grin.

“Are you gonna be a good boy or a brat?”

Shawn’s pearly teeth sink into his swollen, wet lip. He nods. “I’ll be so good, Pen. Gonna be your good boy. The best.”

Her lips twitch. She blinks quickly, startled with the words that almost come slipping out of her mouth.

You’re already the best I’ve ever had.

Penny lays her hands over his much larger ones on her chest and peels them away, dropping them beside his cherubic curls. She moves her hands down to rest against the firm stillness of his chest, his steady heartbeat singing for her. His fingers twitch but he remains quiet beneath her, watching her, wondering about her.

Her fingers stretch and relax, scrunching at the fabric of his t-shirt. He lifts his hips invitingly, just grazing her, offering himself to her. Like in case she forgot how much he wants her and needs her, he’s there to remind her.

Penny lowers herself against him slowly and flips them, his arm tucked beneath her, his knees bracketing her legs to hold his weight. She reaches down and lifts the hem of his shirt, wriggling him out of it. She’s hit with a wall of him, warm naked chest and the perfectly Shawn scent that comes with it. It’s the purest version -- devoid of cologne or weed or the incense Cez sometimes burns. It’s his soap, his breath, his shampoo, his skin. She gasps greedy lungfuls, sinking her hands into the easily defined ridges of his back as she grapples with a way to steady herself.

She closes her eyes away from his prying ones and pushes her hands down his hips to shove at the fabric of his pajama pants. With a few heavy grunts, he manages to slip out of those, too, his old plaid boxers going with them. He fights to keep himself from grinding down against her. He can smell how wet she is for him already through her leggings. He slams his eyes shut and struggles to breathe.

He opens them again when he hears her shuffling around beneath him. In a squirm of fabric and freckled skin, she sheds her leggings and whatever panties she had on beneath. For once, he finds he doesn’t care what they look like. He just aches at the sight of her bare and wet, her limbs threading around him like sun-darkened vines.

“How are you always so tan?” he breathes, his mouth tugging up at the corner. Penny grins lazily, her eyes heavy.

“I sunbathe naked on my patio while I listen to audiobooks.”

Shawn is seized by the image, at once so, so painfully sexy and somehow also domestic and warm, like if he spent a few seconds longer with it he could imagine being back there with her, sharing a bottle of wine, playing his guitar for her.

But he definitely doesn’t let himself get that far.

Instead, he buries his face in her neck and inhales. “Fucking gorgeous.”

Penny brings a hand firmly down his spine from his neck to his lower back, squeezing for his attention. “Hold on a second.”

Shawn eases back, blinking curiously. Penny slides out from beneath him. On little brown tiptoes, she hops to the window and peeks out curiously. Once she’s had a look, she glances back over her shoulder at him. His brow lifts.

Penny lifts back the curtains, flooding the room in midday Californian sun. Shawn winces and blinks, turning his cheek. She tucks the curtains back, revealing his view, the rolling, blank green of the Hollywood Hills. Shawn’s lips part like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. Penny turns to face him.

“I want to see you in the sunlight.”

Shawn trembles with a shiver as she approaches the bed slowly, perching on the end, cupping his cheek so her thumb runs along the lower edge of his cheekbone.

He can see every freckle. He can see every little smile line. He can see a little ridge-like scar on her temple that he doesn’t know the story of. He can see the way her skin glows like she’s absorbing the sunlight she craved for him. He can see everything.

And so can she. The only natural light she’s seen him in has been cloudy, dusky, early morning light that lovers sleep through, or shrouded by curtains that forgive the sharp edges of shadows and direct sun. She left no room for it here. She can’t believe she never noticed how pink he is, all over. She’s seen it in his cheeks and chest, and on occasion in the skin she’s abused to the point of sweet red welts, but never like this where she gets to see the true permanent almost-blush that sits ready under the surface at all times. It’s breathtaking.

They both know they’re spending too much time openly studying each other, but the opportunity is too tempting to ignore. It’s Penny that breaks first, dropping kisses into his shoulder as she crawls over him, pressing him back into the mattress with a deep sigh.

Through the soft graze of his chest hair, she flicks at his hard little nipples with her tongue, enjoying the way he arches into her with a little huff of air. She keeps on, nose brushing all the petal pink skin she finds on her way down, punctuating with wet presses of her lips until she reaches the dark swirls of pubic hair that trail from his navel downward. His chest shudders hard as her breath displaces the hair and her hands find the soft insides of his thighs to push them apart for her to settle between. His cock twitches with interest, just gone fully hard against his stomach. She brushes her lips along the shaft, lips parted in a curious smile. Her hand reaches back to the bench off the foot of the bed. Shawn’s eyes snap shut at the sound of the bottle of lube opening and shutting.

Penny’s lips are followed by just the tip of her tongue. Her tracing is gentle, intimate like the touch of a finger along the throbbing vein, then to the sensitive head of his cock. Her fingers warm the lube between them with audible wet strokes that make Shawn’s brows pull together in anticipation.

Her lips join her tongue again at the base of his cock. Her fingertips press gently against his perineum. His inhale sizzles through his nose loudly. She rubs little circles, firming up in pressure as her mouth moves in a wet pattern up to the head of his cock. It slips between her lips. Shawn’s fingers sink into the squish of his duvet.

“Fuck,” he breathes in disbelief, lifting his knees to plant his feet before she can ask him to.

She works her tongue in swirls around the head of his cock as her fingers draw the same motion around his hole. Just as she slurps at his tip, she sinks a finger in to the first knuckle.

Shawn sighs comfortably, less tense now than he was when they first began exploring this together. She slips it in and out a few times before burying it further. His head tips back and draws out a moan that’s as honest and selfless as she’s ever heard him. It urges her on.

As Penny curls her finger, stroking upward, Shawn loses himself further. He turns his cheek against the pillow, nuzzling as he presses his ass into the bed. His dark eyes fixate on her, on the way she watches him when she slides a second lubed finger inside him, moving so preciously slowly, treating him with so much care it sucks the breath out of his lungs into more breathy moans. She alternates attending to the head of his cock with her wet mouth and pressing kisses to his shaft, keeping the main focus on the talent of her perfect little fingers. She scissors them apart slightly, stretching him to get ready for the toy, grinning at the way his toes curl.

“Penny, baby, feels so good,” he grunts, shaking his head in disbelief. She hums her agreement. She has her own fondness for this, feeling the tight, welcoming warmth with him, feeling the trust grow ever stronger as he puts more of himself in her care with each breath.

Penny licks a drop of precome from his tip and watches her free hand spread to trail up his chest and rest over his heart. It’s thrumming hard, not too hard, not enough to make her back off for fear of ending it early. She wants to take this time nice and slow for him now that he knows how much he likes it and asked her for it. She focuses the press of her thumb into his perineum while her fingers flex and curl.

“Fucking… yeah, Penny, Jesus,” he pants slightly, fisting the sheets on either side of him. She can feel and see the sheen of sweet sweat on his chest and abdomen. He’s almost ready.

“Baby,” she breathes, her voice hoarse from disuse and the weight of her own arousal, “You want my cock?”

He’s not so bashful this time as the first time she asked. He nods first, closing his eyes to find his voice.

“Baby, Penny, please. Fuck me.”

Her toes curl in anticipation. She rolls her hips needily into the bed. Shawn watches with a growling moan. His body protests the careful removal of her fingers and she knows he wants his hands on his aching cock but one look from her reminds him she hasn’t given him permission. Instead he squirms against the bed watching her lift the strap on harness out of the pouch and step into it. Her wetness makes a sound as she separates her legs. She bites her lip at his eager gasp.

“Nice and wet, Pen? Gon-gonna come when you fuck me?”

She tightens the harness around her hips and thighs and considers him through heavy lidded eyes. She flips her feathery dark hair out of her face and cups her fist around the base of the dark green silicone toy.

“Would you like that? Wanna feel me come with you?” Her breath breaks off at the end. Shawn lifts his head and nods again, more fervently.

“Baby, I always want to feel you come. I need to make you come. Please.”

Penny feels his urgency and steps to the end of the bed, reaching for the bottle again. She slicks the toy down with a generous handful of lube. Shawn pokes the tip of his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he watches, knees still bent, legs still spread.

As she lifts a knee onto the end of the mattress, Shawn comes up on his elbows and readies to turn over. She reaches out and grabs his leg to stop him. The first time she took him like this, he was on his knees with her behind him. He’s surprised when she has him lift his hips to settle a pillow beneath them and angle him up toward her. She pulls his thick thighs over hers and nudges him with the head of the slick toy. He exhales slowly, nodding.

Penny goes perfectly slow for him, watching the flutter of his lashes as he adjusts to the fit of it inside him. She sinks gently until she’s buried, her hips snug against his thighs. Shawn focuses on his breathing and the way the ends of her hair tickle his chest as she leans forward.

Penny eases her hips through a circular motion that has the toy grinding into him a little harder. His eyes fall shut. He whines, high and sweet.

“Yeah, baby?” she coos.

“So good,” Shawn sighs, opening his eyes again when he feels her thumbs rubbing similar circles into the insides of his thighs. He’s noticed she has a thing for matching patterns in the way she touches him to heighten sensation. He offers her a lazy, fucked-out grin as she continues the slow sway of her hips.

“Have you ever tried this?” he whispers, nodding at her.

Penny bites at her lower lip like she’s not sure. The coyness is a reflex. She shakes it off.

“Yeah. I like it, too. With the right partner.”

Shawn smiles. His thighs tremble. Her hips have picked up their easy pace. She grips him a little harder as she rocks into a pulsing motion that has her sliding in and out a bit more obviously.

Shawn groans. “Holy… shit.”

He’s wordier when she’s inside him than he usually is. She likes that, makes it feel like he’s even more free than usual, like his thoughts come out through his mouth rather than the alternative of getting stuck to rattle in his brain.

Penny eases forward onto one hand by his head. Her breasts hang, her nipples grazing his chest as she strokes in and out more purposefully. Shawn’s eyes fall shut and his head lolls back. His mouth drops open in a low cry of pleasure.

“Shit… f-fuck,” he sobs, feeling the welcome heat of this with her singe him all over. He grips the sheets harder.

“Can touch me if you want,” she pants, her breath broken up by the strain of her thrusts and the way they bump right up against her swollen clit in the way she likes.

Shawn’s fingers are flushing red as the blood seeps back in. He lifts one to cup her shoulder blade and the other around the back of her head. The motion focuses her eyes down on his, up from where she’s pressing into him.

His eyes are heavily glazed and his lips are parted and wet. Before she thinks about it too hard, she dips down to lavish them with kisses. The change of angle has Shawn nearly purring into her mouth, his legs spreading wider to welcome her closer.

“Baby, oh my god,” he hisses, his curls shivering against his forehead as she mouths at the edge of his jaw.

“Like it like this?” she croaks, fucking in and out of him a little faster, “No one’s ever made you feel this fucking good.”

It’s not edged with the cocky lilt her words take on when she’s giving it to him good in bed. There’s a note of desperation. The need to praise and validate her roars up in Shawn’s chest so strong he gasps a breath to speak.

“No one,” he agrees in a rough sigh, “Fucking-- oh. No--nobody, baby, you’re the only one. Penny, you’re the only one.”

With a satisfied moan, Penny reaches between them and wraps her fingers around the head of his cock. Her hips swing harder, wringing a pretty gasping cry from him with each one. She pulses her fingers around him in time, ready to feel him come apart at the seams.

Shawn feels her lips brushing his. He blinks lazily, almost too far gone to speak, but the look in her eyes makes him whisper, “Come with me. Please.”

Penny’s responding breathy whimper sends him right over the edge. He stifles a scream as his entire body goes beautifully tight and he releases between their stomachs and into her small, wet fist. She breathes through it, right up against his lips like they should be kissing but breathing each other in is enough. Suddenly, with an erratic flick of her hips that has Shawn holding her a little tighter, Penny whines his name and it’s the best fucking thing he’s ever heard. She rows up against him again and again, riding through the orgasm he’d give her a thousand more times if she asked until she’s spent and collapsed against his chest, the toy still inside him.

Shawn lifts his heavy arms around her, smiling like a dope into her hair. He smoothes her hair down her back. It falls so far it brushes her cute round ass, so he massages that, too.

Penny peels up enough to look at him. She smiles and bumps her nose up against his lips.

“Wow,” she chuckles.

“Uh huh,” he grunts back, the same amusement in his voice. He cradles her between his legs, propping his chin up on the top of her head.

Penny starts easing her hips back to Shawn’s little noises of protest. She sheds the harness and grabs a wet washcloth to clean them both off. She tosses it in the hamper and crawls up beside him, still bathed in warm morning light, his arm open to the side to welcome her. She’s just settled up against him when she hears something.

“Hey now, hey nooooow! This is what dreeeeeeams are made of!”

Penny’s head shoots up. She always, always turns her personal phone ringer off when she’s on dates. She somehow forgot. Her head jerks as she looks to Shawn, who’s still wearing a look of dreamy calm.

“Nice ringtone.”

“Sorry, fuck-- I usually turn it off. It’s… that’s my brother’s ringtone.”

Shawn tilts his head curiously. “Answer it if you want. Does he know about me?”

The question is so shocking Penny forgets to think before she answers with a short nod.

“I mean… yeah. It’s-- I tell him everything. I mean not, everything everything. Obviously. But… he would die before telling anyone. I promise.”

Shawn’s face shifts at the look on Penny’s. He’s never seen her look so wide-eyed and sheepish. He strokes a hand comfortingly up her arm.

“Hey, it’s fine. I get it. Answer it, I really don’t mind.”

Penny hesitates a moment longer, then launches off Shawn’s chest to get to her purse. With impressive flexibility, she reaches off the end of the bed and hits the answer button before the ringer ends.

“Hey,” she pants.

“You know what absolutely blows?” Peter barks. He’s so loud Penny is sure Shawn can hear every word but he looks out the window politely.

“What?”

“Data structures and functional programming!” Peter wails. A clunk in the background sounds like a textbook falling shut.

“Don’t tell me you got a B+ on a test again,” Penny jabs, eyeing Shawn with a mischievous smile. His nose twitches over a shy grin now that he realizes he’s allowed to listen.

“No, god no, don’t joke about that,” Peter hisses, “Hot TA finally, FINALLY asked me out.”

Penny’s eyes pop. “What? That’s great! He’s so cute!”

“So, so cute,” Peter agrees in a strained voice, “But my data structures professor moved our test up because he got asked to speak at some conference in Bern. The summer semester break is about to start and hot TA is starting an internship in Hong Kong until September!”

Shawn’s eyebrows raise curiously. Penny bites her lip over a smile, her cheeks catching pink at this odd collision of her personal and professional lives.

“Peter, fuck the test. You have an A. Even if you fail it, you won’t fail the class.”

Shawn chuckles, sitting upright to listen closer.

“But--” Peter begins.

“No,” Penny interrupts sternly, “Don’t do the thing. Don’t use me as a way to argue with yourself. You’re in college, Pete. There’s plenty of time to take over the world with your impressive brain later. Go get laid, for the love of god.”

Shawn laughs, loud and delighted. Penny giggles.

There’s a pause. Peter says, “Who is that? Silver?”

Penny wets her lips and lowers her gaze to Shawn’s legs. “No.”

Another pause. “Oh my god, are you on a date?”

Penny chews the inside of her lip. Her silence is enough confirmation.

“Oh my god,” Peter cries, scandalized. There’s another crash -- this time it sounds like a computer chair smacking into a wooden desk, “You answered your personal cell on a date?”

Shawn looks even more intrigued. He leans further forward and bites his lip. Penny reaches out and plucks at a curl on his forehead.

“Shawn doesn’t mind.”

Peter’s overdramatics reach new heights with his squealing cry in reaction. Shawn laughs again, going pink from the chest. Penny crawls into his lap, feeling mysteriously smug -- perhaps at the disproving of her longtime theory that if ever her two worlds should meet, chaos would immediately follow. Shawn gathers her up on his lap and brushes his nose against her collarbone, sweeping his lips against her neck.

“Are you seriously post-coital with Shawn Peter Raul Mendes and taking a phone call from meeee?” His voice has gone all squeaky so the final drawn out vowel makes her cringe.

“Why do you know his full name?” she laughs. Shawn snorts a chuckle and it vibrates her throat. She hums comfortably.

“My god, my god, get off the phone. Bitch, I will hang up on you. Go get that mans. Get that good Canadian rock star dick, what the fuck.”

Shawn laughs harder and he’s close enough to the phone that Peter cries out at the sound.

“Shawn, for the love of all that’s unholy, do something to get her off the phone.”

Shawn lifts his head and considers the challenge. Penny is breathless, watching him lie back, taking her with him. He lifts her, scooting her up his chest until she’s perched over his head, her knees bracketing the pillow, phone still pressed to her ear.

“Hey, you’re still coming for that CalTech thing, right? I see you in a few weeks?” she breathes, gazing warmly down at Shawn as he tongues at the inside of her wet inner thigh. She sinks a hand into his curls to steer him. He goes willingly.

“Yeah, yeah in like a month,” Peter answers distractedly, “I put the flight on your Amex.”

Penny’s eyes fall shut when Shawn swipes his tongue up through her folds, flicking at her clit.

“Good boy,” Penny hums with a nod.

“Are you talking to him or me?!” Peter shrieks.

Penny grunts, glancing down at Shawn who locks his arms around her thighs and bears down. With a shaky inhale, she sighs.

“I don’t know anymore. Bye, Pete.”

She holds the phone away from her ear to hang up. She can hear more screaming as she hits the end call button.

Oh my GAWD! Shawn Mendes and Bex Get Hot and Heavy in Miami BETCH! -- Perez Hilton

Shawn Mendes and Bex Spotted Getting Steamy on Miami Beach -- People Magazine

Hottest Couple of the Summer! Shawn Mendes and Bex Making Waves In Miami! -- JustJared

Penny lifts her chin and controls her stride as she steps into the chilly hotel room at The Beverly Hills Hotel. With a nod back at Gus, the door shuts behind her.

He’s tall. Extraordinarily tall. He’s probably at least 6’5”. He’s a Nordic god with crisp blue eyes and a swath of blonde hair that falls shaggy but controlled around his shoulders. His body is lean and smooth, well trained but hard and a little unwelcoming somehow. Penny’s lips curl into a smile.

“Miss Penny,” he breathes in lightly accented English, “You’re a vision.”

Penny’s upper lip puckers. She tucks some falling curls behind her ear and steps closer, dwarfed but unintimidated by her new client.

“Mr. Larsen. You’re every bit as handsome as you appear in Forbes.”

He’s flattered by her easy softball of a compliment. She can tell by the way he preens for it that he believes her words. She looks down at the glass of gin in his fist. She looks back up at him and smiles again, walking around him to prepare her own.

“I was very eager to receive your recommendation from a colleague,” he says, easing around the chaise to stand behind her. He’s not hovering, exactly, or at least not close enough to make her uncomfortable. She’s aware of the shimmery body oil she rubbed on the bare skin of her back, accented by her low cut cocktail dress.

Aston Martin guy referred him, Silver told her. She knows the type. Elegant and refined. Not terribly interested in small talk before clothes come off. Gets called ‘daddy’ by the girls he brings home from bars and events but needs a strong woman to hold him down and ride him hard to feel balanced.

It’s easy. No challenge. No problem to solve. Penny sighs. It escapes his notice.

She turns while dropping a wedge of lime into her sweating glass. Her eyes rake him from head to toe. He takes it as an invitation to step closer.

“Good word of mouth is crucial to my business model,” she agrees coolly, taking a sip. It’s not as strong as she’d like.

His smile is vaguely unpleasant. He’s the kind of guy she’d tell the La Splendeur girls to avoid when out in the wild. He steps closer.

“I’ve heard very good words about your mouth.”

Penny’s low exhale takes the place of the eyeroll she’d give if she weren’t being paid so handsomely. She can’t blame his native tongue for the too-smooth, cheesy pun. This guy was probably Oxford or Cambridge educated. He speaks better English than she does. He’s just fucking boring.

Penny drops a finger into her drink, curling it slightly, watching his eyes follow the motion. Too easy.

She brings it to her lips and sips the gin off her finger. She doesn’t even like gin. He licks his chops like she’s a meal.

She puts her glass down.

“Get on your knees, Mr. Larsen.”

Whiplash.

It’s the only word for the feeling he’s had for days on agonizing days.

Penny crawled out of his bed and left her scent behind in his sheets after a few more traded orgasms and more shared kisses than usual. In a sexed out daze, Shawn heads into the lion’s den. He’s never seen so many paps outside The Nice Guy. The cold snapping of their shutters knocks him back into reality. The high he rides after a few hours with Penny is cut criminally short.

He cradles Bex close under his arm. He wets his lips and leans in when she whispers in his ear. He smiles, makes it melt like butter, and brushes his lips over hers. It’s stomach-turningly tender.

There’s more obvious canoodling outside the bar. Even with his eyes shut and her sucking on his lower lip in an objectively satisfying way, the flashes have him on edge.

He returns home to a bed that smells like something that feels imagined. It’s somehow even less real to him than the carefully orchestrated farce he’s been living.

Because it can’t be real. There’s no trace of her besides the sunny breath of perfume in his pillows that makes him choke up inexplicably when he buries his face in it before sleep mercifully knocks him out.

He can’t see her. He has trouble picturing her pretty face despite all the time he’s spent staring at it. He claws at it -- freckles. Tiny forehead scar. Slender ankles. Weirdly pointy but still cute knees. The laugh. He can’t remember the real laugh, the one that fizzes like expensive champagne, the kind he only drinks with her. He can’t hear it.

Even if he could manage to cling to all these pretty things, it can’t be real. What’s in the headlines is real. The album sales, the festival numbers, the hashtag stats -- those are real. As fake as it all is, it’s real. It’s more real than the nothing he has with a woman he pays to sit on his face.

His career is real. His album is real. His family, his life is real.

The rest of it is distraction.

-----------

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pollylynn · 5 years ago

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XOXOXO—A Dedicated, Too Sequel (Caskett Post-Ep for Eye of the Beholder, 4 x 05)

Title: XOXOXO—A Dedicated, Too Sequel WC: 1600

A/N: A few years ago, I wrote this schmoopy mess. I had always thought about writing a brief sequel. Recently someone on AO3 commented on the story, saying it was about time for the sequel. So, here it kind of is. If you don’t want to read the first story, all you really need to know is that Castle insists that Beckett give him a business card at the end of The Dead Pool (3 x 21) because he’s jealous that she gave Alex Conrad one.

It was love at first sight for him. Really. It's stupid. It's cliché. It's childish, schmaltzy, revisionist history.

But it's also the truth.

He'd run head long at it right away, that instantaneous, earth-shaking desire. He had launched himself at it with no method, no finesse whatsoever, because–hey, a one-night stand, right? Maybe a once-in-a-while-night stand if he could manage to play his his cards right. But that’s what he’d figured on, because he was so over the very idea of being in love by the time he met her.

And then it had simply been a matter of sticking around to meet the challenge. She had proven to be formidable opponent, and honor demanded that he give it his all—that he not fight the duel left-handed, as it were. He’d held on to those delusions a while, variations on a theme that had served him well for a good long while—intermittently at least.

There had been times, even from early on, that the truth had surfaced, painfully and otherwise—with the throb of empathetic misery the first time she told him her mother’s story, and the sharp sizzle of jealousy when Sorenson John Wayned his way on to the scene, to say nothing of the sheer disbelief and indignation he’d felt upon learning that he—that clown—had walked away from her. With the absolute emptiness he’d felt watching her walk away from him, knowing he had no one but himself to blame, the truth that it was love at first sight had surfaced, and the pain was shocking.

So he’d told himself again that he was done—forever and ever, Amen, done—being in love, and with good reason. Love, inevitably, brought pain, and he was so over that.

And he’d spent a year cultivating his image as an utter rascal, who’d happily undertake a tumble with her, should she find herself so inclined—no messy, emotional strings attached. He’d spent a year pretending that he lived for nothing more than the certainty that he’d have his prize—he’d wear her down, and in the end, she’d be thoroughly glad that he had.

He’d spent a year playing at all that, keeping the truth at bay. And for his trouble, he’d stumbled on to another kiss with another Dudley Do-Right, because for some damned reason, Rebel Bex not withstanding, that had seemed to be her type. And the things he’d pulled after that—the way he’d whipsawed from geuinely trying to win her away to sauntering off with Gina so that she would know what she was missing—he still dies a little inside every time he thinks of all that.

Because it’s been a mess since then on, honesty. It’s been a mess. From Gina to not Gina, from Josh to . . . not Josh, and smack in the middle of that the question he’ll carry to his grave—what might it have changed if he’d simply told her he loved her that night in her apartment. What might they have averted if he’d picked up the gauntlet she’d thrown—What about you, Rick?— and told her in no uncertain terms that he had loved her from that exact first moment at the book party?

It has never been an easy truth—never. He has sat with it, alone in one way or another, each and every summer that he has known her. And now, it has hardly been any time at all since he has had to sit alone with it for the most sustained, painful stretch of his life, utterly unable to push it away, explain it way, live in the shelter of his delusions about being done with love. It’s hardly been any time at all since the cryptic conversation on the swings, where she said—he thinks she said—that she might not remember, but she knows, and there’s hope.

It feels like there’s been nothing to do but wait since then, nothing to do but mark time. But in his more honest moments, he knows it’s not simply that. It’s work on his end, just as it is on hers. It’s learning to run headlong at the fact that he loves her—for real this time—and accepting that this is going to hurt, often and for the rest of his life, because love requires that. It requires vulnerability and offering up and risk and he is . . . working on that.

He’s working on that when Serena Kaye sashays into his life, the temptation to end all temptations. Because he is single, in theory. Because Serena Kaye is interested and precisely his speed, historically. Because she—Kate—has staked no claim on him, technically. And when she is suddenly the one stumbling upon a kiss, things are not just complicated, they’re impossible—impossible.

Serena is the safe choice. She is the nuke it from orbit and save yourself choice, and he could be done being in love. He could be safe and . . . reasonably satisfied, and no one looking on at the situation could say he had done a damned thing wrong.

But he doesn’t want to be safe, and as it turns out, he seems to be too far gone to be good to anyone for one-night-stand purposes—for once-in-awhile-night-stand purposes.

So Serena Kaye sashays out of his life and Kate is made bold by recent events and it’s happy ever after, right?

It is, in large part. She—Kate—is flirty and shy in irresistible combination. She is imperious and solicitous and, beneath it all, a little scared. She has some intermittent rabbit pulse going, and a part of him that’s a little mean—that feels a little hard done by—is glad about that, except not really, because he’s scared, too.

He’s so scared by all of this that it’s hard to enjoy what’s pretty inarguably a date that she’s taken him on. It’s hard not to feel on the verge of doing something catastrophically stupid to save himself the pain.

It’s hard, but it’s not impossible. He does enjoy it. So does she, right up to the point that it’s time to argue about the check, and things kick into high gear.

“You’re destitute, Castle.” She’s twisting around in her seat trying to catch the waiter’s attention, but the kid is terrible, and it’s no mean feat. “I assume you’re going to have to ride the rails after this, so the least I can do is make sure you do it on a full stomach.”

“Fine,” he says, playing up the surrender. “I’ll go powder my nose, then.”

He slips from the booth before she can say anything. He hunts down their paper-hatted, clip-on-bow-tie-wearing bundle of resentment and moves to settle the tab quickly before she arrests the two of them. He reaches for his wallet . . . and comes up empty. He turns the inside pocket of his sport coat out—like a cartoon hobo—in utter disbelief.

He pivots, orienting immediately to her on pure instinct and sees her at the counter, pushing bills back across it to the nominally older teenager who is obviously the responsible party for the night. He drifts toward her, seething, delighting, loving her with all he’s got. And she waits, the magnet pulling him in, grinning, holding up his wallet in triumph.

“Be more careful with that.” With a brisk flip of his lapel, she drops the wallet back in his inside pocket. “No telling what someone might get up to if they got their hands on that.”

He abuses her with utter good cheer all the way to the corner where it’s time for them to part ways. She struts alongside him, crowing and enjoying her coup to the fullest. They slow their steps in unison. They linger under the streetlight, but it’s late. It’s late.

“Well,” he’s the one to say, “I guess I’d better get home and pack that bindle.”

“Guess you’d better,” she agrees, smiling down at the sidewalk. She pauses and gives him a sideways look, as if she’s about to say something more. She changes her mind, though. She presses her lips together and he sees her change her mind before she says simply, “Try to hold on to that wallet, Castle.”

He does. He makes his way home with his fingers curled around his lapel and his palm braced over the weight of it in his inside pocket. There’s something about the parting admonition—something about the teasing you never know that she tossed his way back at Remi’s. So he holds on to it, and by the end, he’s rushing—into the building, up the stairs, into the loft, and into the comparatively safe confines of his bedroom.

He flips open the wallet, prepared to ransack it absolutely in search of a clue. He doesn’t have to, though. The disturbance is immediately obvious. A business card is out of place—her business card, soft and creased with handling, has been extracted from one of the deepest recesses and tucked defiantly in one of the outermost slots.

He pulls it out with his heart pounding and his stomach doing adolescent, so-totally-in-love loop-de-loops. He flips the card over to trace her name–the signature he’d insisted on so that his card would be better than the one she’d slipped to Alex Conrad to drive him crazy. He flips the card over, and there beneath the bold strokes of her name, an addition: XOXOXO.

A/N: So dumb and gross.

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 4 #Castle: Eye of the Beholder #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Gina Cowell #Will Sorenson #Josh Davidson #Serena Kaye #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #Feh

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bexis-mind · 4 years ago

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ultimate tag

tagged by: @lovelyuno , thank you sweetie!! ^^ and no, I’m not. I love doing those, I just get hella sidetracked :’) tagging: @shady-smile @cest-la-vie-ma-copine @bia-s-mind @silvana-sayuri-world — personal

name: rebeca

nickname: bex, bexi, bec, crebs (this one is very special and funny with context)

birthday: nov 22nd

zodiac: sagittarius baby and proud of it (tho I’m on the cusp of also being a scorpio so *best of both worlds starts playing*)

nationality: romanian

languages: fluently romanian & english, i’ve got a pretty decent understanding of basic japanese, sooooooome understanding of korean thanks to the many hours spent watching kdramas and stuff with my kpop faves, i can read german and i will cry upon hearing the tiniest bit of russian :’)

gender: female

sexuality: straight

height: 1.72cm so.... 5′6? 5′7? probably in the middle

— blog stuff

inspiration for muse: just whatever? y’all have seen the mess this blog is, idk what explanation to give

meaning behind my url: my mind :) legit i use this blog (and another 2 when i remember i have them) to filter out the many things i like/think about

blog established: i started as a tokio hotel blog on... 17th january 2013... turned kpop in october of the same year

followers: around 550 i think

— favs

favourite animals: dragons tigers and wolves

favourite books: anything Victoria Schwab writes. i’m serious i own them all and they’re all my treasure. also everything Leigh Bardugo

favourite colour: black, red, blue, purple, turquoise, if it’s a cool tone chances are i love it

favourite fictional characters: Sakata Gintoki, too many One Pieces characters to list, Nikolai Lantsov, all the Hashira from Kimetsu no Yaiba, Sesshomaru and Koga from Inuyasha, i’ll stop here but know that i can sit here till tomorrow and still not be done

favourite flower: roses and peonies

favourite scent: summer rain

favourite season: autumn and winter

— random

average hours of sleep: i’d day 9, for now

cats or dogs: dogs

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: all of them, in that order

current time: 12:41 am

dream trip: japan. especially osaka, i’ve wanted to see the castle ever since i was in elementary school

dream job: honestly, book translator, but that’s almost impossible here so i have no idea :’)

hobbies: listening to music, watching anime, reading books/manga, playing flight rising, i write once every 3 full moons and 6 sacrifices

hogwarts house: slytherin

last movie watched: one piece: stampede

last song listened to: dreamcatcher - you and i (japanese version)

no. of blankets you sleep with: one

random fact(s): my friends say i’m a sinnamon roll. the way i choose my faves (characters or kpop idols) is apparently a very thought out process. i thought i just vibe with them but who knows? :))

#thanks again for the tag lia it was fun~#don't stop haha #tag

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tjkiahgb · 6 years ago

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Episode Recap: 3.13, “Mount Rushmore or Less”

Remember how the last episode ended? When Jonah and Amber were making out in the park? Good, because we’re picking up from right where we left off.

The GHC react in even more shock to seeing the two kiss. Andi tells everyone to act natural, so Cyrus takes off his shoe and throws it into the lake. Buffy vetoes that idea and calls Jonah over to get answers.

Andi’s like, did she have to do that?

But, in fairness, you told everyone to act natural and confrontation is super natural for Buffy.

Jonah comes running over and they start grilling him: what happened with Libby? What’s this with Amber? Are you a two-timing son of a gun?

Jonah explains he’s not being a jerk and that Libby broke up with him a couple days ago.

They press him on already getting back together with Amber, but I don’t see a ring on his finger. Let the boy live.

Cyrus thinks it’s possible their relationship could work this time, as Amber has come a long way. Buffy thinks this means it’s only a matter of time until the Jonah cycle returns to Andi.

Andi is less than thrilled about that.

At The Spoon, Cyrus draws stuff on napkins and asks the others if it’s something.

God, it’s so weird that he would draw a picture of my mother screaming at me that I’m wasting my life.

And then following it up with a picture of my father telling me he’ll never get me a puppy because I’ll never be responsible enough for one? This is too strange!

Andi’s phone buzzes and she checks it.

Metcalf has announced Costume Day is in two days time.

We’re all in agreement Metcalf doing this on short notice is some kind of social experiment, right? Designed to drive the students to madness, yes? Okay, good.

Andi wants to know who can plan a costume in two days? I mean, other than most people, who would probably just go to the store and buy one or make something simple. You really don’t need that much time unless you’re, I don’t know, doing some kind of big, multi-person production involving sheets and face paint? But why put yourself through that?

Jonah already knows what he’s doing.

That sounds lame. Who’d even be interested in such a thing? And it’s really not going to work unless he can get Zachary Levi to come in and be the second part of that costume and there’s no way you’re getting Z-Leeves on that short of notice. He was Chuck for God’s sake. He’s got better stuff to do!

Andi suddenly realizes she already knows what they’re going to be for Costume Day: Mount Rushmore.

She notes that they already have the heads, which is really an important first step for any costume: having a head.

The gang seems less than thrilled but Andi says it’ll get them a two-page spread in the yearbook and that, more importantly, for the rest of their lives, whenever anyone asks them what their best costume was, they’ll be able to say Mount Rushmore.

I feel like she might be severely overestimating how many times people get asked that question in their lifetime. I’ve only been asked it like three or four times at various job interviews. And guess what? I also said Mount Rushmore even though I never actually did it. It’s called lying. Look into it.

Cyrus tries his picture thing one more time.

My God, it’s a vivid recreation of the time I fell into a well when I was twelve and was trapped there alone for three days. I don’t know how he’s doing this.

Buffy goes to find Marty. Marty has spent his time away changing his hairstyle and becoming an amateur rapper.

Buffy calls him on it but he says he’s talking the same way he always has, it’s just been a while and when you’re away from someone for a while, you forget they say things like “Yo!” It’s like they say, absence makes the heart forget how people talk.

Either way, Marty is glad Buffy called. Buffy explains she missed him and the fun they used to have. Marty lets her know he has a girlfriend now. Buffy says she’s happy for him.

They decide they can be friends again now that the pressure of a relationship is off the table because Marty has a girrrrlfriend.

Marty lets Buffy know, though, that she’s just a girlfriend, not a girrrlfriend, so it probably won’t last.

Over at the park, Kira shows up at the basketball courts and finds TJ. She asks him if there’s a chance she could try out for the boys’ basketball team. He tells her there’s a girls’ team now and also, honestly, there’s a whole backstory here and if I just let you onto the boys’ team, it would probably be a thing.

Cyrus shows up.

TJ introduces him to Kira, who remembers him. She’s like, you’re Buffy’s friend, right? And Cyrus is like, yeah. And then Kira gets a crazy look in her eyes.

Which Cyrus rightly reads as a reason to exit from the situation.

He and TJ head off. Kira watches them leave and responds with a look that seems to say, “I smell gayness.”

TJ asks Cyrus what he’s doing for Costume Day. Cyrus says TJ doesn’t strike him as a Costume Day kinda guy but TJ tells him he has layers.

Like an onion.

TJ pitches Cyrus on his idea. One person: dressed for summer. The other: dressed as salt. You know: somersault. Like that thing TJ taught Cyrus to do a while back that meant so much to him that he remembered it many months later and wanted to do an entire costume dedicated to it because it was a little thing that they shared. I’m fine. I’m totally fine.

They agree that TJ will be somer, Cyrus will be sault.

Meanwhile, over in another part of the park, Amber prances around in front of her camera, trying to get a good candid shot.

I feel like we’re getting a little window into everyone’s lives here. It’s a strange display.

Andi shows up. Amber complains about how hard it is to seem natural so she asks Andi to snap some shots. Andi’s like, sure, but the cost is I’m going to ask you about Jonah. Amber explains they were spending all this time together and that they realized they might like each other, again. Andi says it’s okay, that she thinks that’s nice.

Then she aims the camera at Amber’s like, midsection?

She takes some pics and she’s like, I think we got the shot.

That’s pretty impressive camera work for lazily pointing camera nowhere in particular.

Andi heads home and starts digging through Bex’s closet looking for a sheet. Bex comes running over to help but it’s too late. Andi violently throws all of Bex’s wedding invites to the floor.

I mean, I know it wasn’t on purpose, but that was way too aggressive a search Andi was doing in that closet. This was bound to happen.

Bex offers to explain. She says she was going to mail them but she couldn’t. They’re just too much. I mean, for God’s sake, they’re vellum!

Of course, it’s not the vellum, it’s what the vellum represents: that this is all happening, and soon. And that’s too much for Bex. Bowie doesn’t know yet, but Bex assures Andi she still loves him. That this panic is because of how good things have been with him and fear of change.

Bex promises to mail the invites tomorrow. Andi corrects her by saying we will mail them. I’m going to walk you to the post office and watch you do it.

Andi then uses this opportunity to say she’s going to murder Bex’s sheet by cutting a hole in it and painting it gray.

Honestly, though, she’s seen how Bex lives, she can’t possibly think doing that to a sheet of hers would really ruin it in Bex’s eyes. It’ll be back on her bed within a week.

Cyrus catches up to Buffy at school and asks her if she thinks Andi would flip if he bailed on Mount Rushmore. Buffy’s like, yep. Are we ever going to get an explanation as to why Andi is obsessed with Mount Rushmore? Has this been like, her thing going back to when they were little kids or something?

Cyrus tells Buffy he wants to do a costume with TJ. He tells her it’ll be a somersault, which is their thing. He asks her if she understands.

Buffy’s also like, “I smell gayness.” But in a positive way.

Still, she says the problem is that Costume Day is tomorrow. She then realizes she might know someone else who actively has a head and could help.

Andi runs into Amber, pacing around outside the middle school. She posted her nice pictures to InstaPic and Jonah didn’t give her a like.

God, this is, at the same time, incredibly stupid and so real. What a time to live in that this is a legit modern relationship issue.

Andi tries to tell her not to read too much into it, but that’s not happening. Amber asks Andi to have a talk with him.

So Andi heads over to Red Rooster to talk some sense into Jonah. She reminds him Costume Day is tomorrow and that he’ll thank her when their Mount Rushmore costume ends up as a four page foldout in the yearbook.

And, of course, once again in 30 years, when someone asks him what his best costume was and he has an easy answer.

She tells him about the whole Amber thing. That if she posts a picture, give it a heart. No exceptions.

And Jonah’s like, I heart most of them. And Andi’s like, no exceptions.

No. Exceptions.

Back at the school, Buffy heads over to find Marty, who’s dressed like The Rock in an adventure movie for some reason.

Buffy remarks on how it’s cool they can just talk again, then asks him for a favor. Marty’s like, what kind of favor? And Buffy’s like, I need to use your head.

At the park, Kira shows up and tells TJ she’s been looking for him.

That’s a soon-to-be-sad choice of words.

Kira tells him she has a super-simple, basketball-related idea for Costume Day. TJ tells her he already has a costume: “Somersault” with Cyrus.

Kira tries again, telling him her idea is really cool. TJ again turns her down.

Kira’s like...

“That smells pretty gay to me.”

She sarcastically wishes him good luck with that and walks off. TJ remains behind, rattled.

Andi returns home to find Bex and Bowie waiting for her.

It seems pretty clear by now that Andi rules this house like an iron-fisted Queen. They live in fear of her.

Andi says it’s been a while since she’s seen them in such an ominous tableau.

Ominous Tableau, by the way, was the name of my folk rock band in college. We were terrible. Got ran out of several open mics. They actually passed a local ordinance to prevent more than two members of the band from being in the same room at the same time after a few too many of our shows. Oh, memories.

Andi wants to know what’s up. Her parents just quietly look at the wedding invitations and Andi realizes they are not being mailed today. Or ever?

They explain that this wedding, with all its planning and details is too much, and that what they already have is perfect. There are too many expectations and Bex doesn’t want to risk it.

I gotta say, I strongly relate to not wanting to do stuff or go to a party. They’re speaking my language.

Bowie is just happy being Andi’s dad and with what they have now. He doesn’t need more.

Andi takes a second, then says okay. And Bex is like...

...did we just get away with this?

Andi says it’s their decision. She’s not feeling surprised. That really, deep down, when you think about it...

Oh?

Then what about before?! All that wedding stuff. The arguments about cake? And dresses? And centerpieces? You were just killing time?

Andi goes to gather her Mount Rushmore supplies as she’s decided she’s heading to Andi Shack to finish the costume.

Bex tries to say if she sees Celia, to not... but Andi tells her not to worry. She won’t say anything and break Celia’s heart.

And then she just walks out, leaving her parents in stunned silence.

It’s weird that Bex and Bowie’s names are on the papers when it’s actually Andi who owns the place.

Andi heads to The Spoon and runs into Amber, who thanks her for getting Jonah to like her pictures. She goes to start her shift while Jonah follows Andi outside.

He says he forgot how much he had to do with Amber.

Which is a great way to be thinking about a relationship you’re like, two days into.

He says it’s not just hearting her pictures. It’s constant texting. Constant hanging out. Constant being around her friends. She’s like a timebomb of insecurity waiting to go off.

Andi tells him that’s regular boyfriend stuff but he contends it’s a lot.

Andi, who’s very clearly over trying to fix Jonah and Amber’s relationship, tells him to just do whatever.

Or don’t do it. It’s fine either way, just make up your damn mind.

She starts to leave but stops and turns back.

She tells him he can do this like he’s about to strap himself into a rocket and launch into space. I know the risks are large, and you might not come back, but I believe in you. You can have a good relationship with Amber.

At school on Costume Day, Cyrus spots TJ, not dressed like summer.

TJ says he was going to call him but before he can explain, Kira shows up. She’s like, let’s show Cyrus the costume.

Oh, I get it. It’s funny because, in basketball, a double dribble is a violation and so is this costume.

TJ apologizes as Kira drags him away and Cyrus is left to stand there, heartbroken, and wearing a colander on his head.

The greatest of indignities.

Andi shows up with her Mount Rushmore getup and runs into Marty and Buffy. Buffy explains Marty’s there to replace Cyrus, who apparently has not warned Andi of his plans. I don’t know Andi that well, but given how much Mount Rushmore seems to mean to her, I’d have gone out of my way to make sure she knew.

Andi takes the news that Marty will be replacing Cyrus well.

It’s all okay as long as Jonah’s still in. On cue, Jonah shows up. Andi’s ready to go but Jonah says he has something to say first. He pulls her aside.

He’s thought about what she said, about doing things he wants to do and not just doing stuff because people want him to do it. Long story short, he doesn’t want to be in Mount Rushmore.

Andi takes this well, too.

“...MOM?”

“Huh? I’m not your mom.”

“Right. Sorry, I’m working through a lot of stuff.”

Andi says she was counting on him. Jonah says she told him he should decide what he wants to do. Andi’s like, I meant with Amber, not me!

She yells “wrong lesson” at him the way you might say “Bad dog!”

Jonah apologizes and walks off.

Let me just stop for a second here and point something out. I’m not going to make a whole post to “Pink Backpack” this, but this is the same area Pink Backpack took place and there are some strange things going on in this scene with the kids.

Exhibit #1: Gorilla Kid and Dinosaur Kid.

Exhibit #2: Pharaoh Kid.

And, the worst one of all, Exhibit #3: Hot Dog Kid.

These kids are walking in circles. They’re teleporting(?). And I know, in my heart, this is somehow all Metcalf’s fault.

Anyway, Andi walks with Marty and Buffy and says this...

I can’t believe there’s this whole story here where Andi has been dreaming of doing a Mount Rushmore costume for years and is constantly having those dreams dashed. What a weird fixation.

They spot Cyrus being a sad little salt shaker.

The mime behind him is trapped in the box that is heteronormativity. Don’t test me. I’ve written college papers on flimsier.

They tell him Jonah won’t be in Mount Rushmore and re-recruit him into it.

Marty figures out what he’s dressed as.

Listen, I know it’s the principle of the matter, TJ bailing on him and all, but Cyrus shouldn’t be ashamed of the costume. It’s not bad as is. I see a lot of people dressed up as food -- a pizza, a pineapple, and of course, hot dog.

And look at this kid.

What is he, an easel? Terrible. At least you’re not him.

Anyway, Cyrus agrees to join Mount Rushmore.

Can we be honest for a second? It’s a fine costume. It was never going to be a two-page spread in the yearbook. The only one they bothered to even make look like one of the presidents is Marty (who’s killing it, by the way). The rest of them just look like faces in holes. I mean, compare it to the real thing:

It’s preposterous. Two pages?! Delusional! Best they were ever going to get was a decent sized shot on the “Costume Day” collage page.

The episode ends with them sadly getting their photo taken.

Relationships tested. People torn apart. Chaos.

Sounds like another successful Metcalf experiment.

#Andi Mack #Cyrus Goodman #Buffy Driscoll #Jonah Beck #TJ Kippen #Amber #Marty #Kira #Bex Mack #Bowie Quinn #Andi #episode recaps

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helplessly-nonstop · 5 years ago

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The Call of A Nephilim’s Heart(Ricochet imagine)

Surprise motherfuckers, ya bitch is alive and not so well but I have a fic for you and my addition to @hardcorewwetrash’s Supernatural Summer Challenge! I chose a Nephilim as the creature and my prompt was, “All I do is drink coffee and say bad words.”

Warnings: bad words(it’s a given in my fics, c’mon), little bit of angst, no smut this time, use of my OFC, Kyla Nightingale, who is a witch(in this fic!)

WC: 4629 words

I settled against the edge of the rooftop, staring at the city buzzing below my feet. New Orleans was a dangerous place to be, especially considering what I was. This city was known for its “magic elements” but little did most know, it was one of the most lively places for the supernatural. I was a young witch and I had very dangerous spells memorized to keep myself and others safe from the actual monsters roaming around.

I heard the flutter of wings behind me but I didn’t dare turn to face him. He was an anticipated guest of mine and as soon as he decided on what he was going to do, I would turn to him.

“Kyla.” I stiffened at the sound of his voice then came to a slow stand, my hands trembling with the magic flowing back and forth.

“Trevor, this really is not a good time.” I informed him, turning to face him with narrowed eyes. Damn him and his fucking allure. He sighed, eyes flickering back between my hands and my mismatched irises then said,”I don’t want to hurt you.” My tongue peeked out at his statement and he mimicked the motion as I stated, “Then don’t. Let me live, let me do what I’m supposed to.”

“I can’t. You know I can't, you know too much.” I sighed, the purple and blue sparks beginning to rise from my fingertips, then murmured, “Take the final warning or don’t, it’s up to you.” He gave a sigh, hanging his head briefly, then when he looked up again, his brown eyes were now an intense emerald.

“Ricochet, take your chance now and leave.” I warned, the sparks now growing into a small ball of fire that shared a purple, bluish hue to it. He stepped forward and outstretched his wings, the gold of his feathers casting a glow over his already beautiful face. Too bad he wants to kill me. I stomped my left foot down against the rooftop and flames engulfed his frame, allowing me to make my escape with a wave of my hand.

I trudged into my apartment then kicked off my wedges, untangling my now singed hair from the braid. My roommate’s door opened and out came Aleister, his hair tied back in a low ponytail as he asked,”What in Gods’ Hell did you run into tonight, Kyla?” I gave an annoyed glare and replied,”I’ll give you three guesses, the first two don’t count.”

“Ricochet? Trying to ‘kill you’ again, I’m guessing? When will that Nephilim finally accept the fact that you’re his soulmate?” he questioned, settling beside me on the couch as I inspected the damage I had brought upon my beautiful hair. I nodded then asked, “I don’t know, hopefully soon. Hey, do we have any scissors so I can cut my hair?” He pursed his lips, clearly trying to remember if we did, then he snapped his fingers together, the object appearing in the palm of his hand as he replied, “Here’s a thought. Go get a shower and I’ll cut it however you would like.”

I groaned, annoyed that he was making me get up when I just sat down but came to a stand nonetheless.

Once I finished my shower, I stared into the mirror, examining my appearance. Mismatched eyes, one green, one brown with black hair that reached the middle of my back. I wasn’t ugly but I certainly didn’t exceed the one to ten scale. Freckles were splayed against my cheeks and I leaned against the counter, realizing that my height was both a curse and a blessing in disguise. I stood a solid 4’11 so I always wore heels when I had the chance.

“Kyla, come on, I would like to go to bed soon.” Aleister called in the bathroom. I entered his room and settled at the foot of his bed, instructing,”Cut it up to my chin and give me bangs.” He nodded in understanding and snip snip snip went the scissors, the black locks falling around my shoulders and onto his duvet.

Within ten minutes, he had my hair cut and even all the way around. Aleister brushed my now short hair then cleared the strands off his bed into the small trash can that he keeps beside the foot of the mattress, stating, “Alright, go get some sleep. You’ve had a long night.”

I nodded in understanding and walked into my room, flopping onto my bed face first without a care in the world. I gave a sigh and curled under my blanket, wrapping an arm around my pillow as I mumbled under my breath, “Gods, I hope tomorrow is better.”

Morning rolled around and apparently while I was sleeping, Aleister had snuck in to plug up my phone. I rolled over and clicked on the screen, reading a message that my friend, Seth, had sent me, Hey, kid, I’ve got an important meeting, can you come watch over the shop? Drew and Bex is there, but ya know how they are. Seth ran his very own café and whenever he needed someone to monitor his shop, he would text me.

“Sure, be there in ten.” I allowed myself a little more time to get ready, fixing a bow into my hair, then walked out into the kitchen, immediately taking notice of the note that my best friend left for me: Be home later, had to go out with a friend. I hummed and tapped the letter before taking my leave out the door.

I ended up walking down to the café and entered the shop, nodding at Seth’s boyfriend, Drew, who was running the bar with their girlfriend, Becky.

Both were demons, equally as evil as the other happens to be. I approached the bar and the red headed woman slid me a mocha coffee with three shots of espresso, across the counter. I nodded in thanks then settled in the corner that I always sat in. It was a vantage point and I hate to have people sitting behind me. Some may call it paranoia, but it is what it is. It was right beside the window, which made it all the more better.

I sipped my drink then began working on my crime rate report. I was the resident detective that wasn’t on the station’s public payroll and the way that I dealt with certain criminals wasn’t exactly what someone might call… ethical.

Someone pulled the chair out from across me then they settled down. I didn’t look up, it was pointless.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re so damn polite for a Nephilim? Your kind is fucking abrasive normally.” I commented, closing my laptop lid, leaning my chin against my propped up hand. A smile danced across his pretty mouth briefly then he replied,”I have been told that quite a few times, thank you. Would you like me to be a bit more abrasive?”

“Maybe it would ease our sexual tension and make things a bit fucking easier on you when you finally fucking kill me.” I replied, taking a drink of my coffee. He laughed then questioned, ”Is that all you do is curse?”

“Please. All I do is drink coffee and say bad words.” I chirped, taking another drink. He rolled his eyes and replied, “I think we should step outside, Kyla.” I stared at him for a moment, gauging to see if he was serious, then fisted the front of his shirt, dragging him to his feet. Internally, I knew that he went willingly, but the satisfaction of having a Nephilim- my Nephilim- in my clutch made my magic sing with delight.

“Why, Pretty Boy, you finally gonna fuck my brains out?” He stared at me blankly and replied monotonously, “I think it’s best that you go willingly so I don’t have to kill you in front of all your friends.” I licked my lips and finished off my coffee before saying,”Let’s do a head count here, Trevor, and see if this changes your mind.”

“There are two demons running the bar, three werewolves, five vamps, a fairy, and two sirens, not to mention the monsters in the back of the store. Take me back to my place, I’ll put a sock on the door, and make sure that Aleister won’t come in. Accept the fact that we’re soulmates and you can finally fuck me.”

Ricochet fidgeted with his fingers. He was a good soldier, loyal to his Gods but I could see the way he fought with himself, debating on if it was worth it- disobeying direct orders to kill his soulmate.

“Don’t do this to yourself- to me. Accept me and leave your legion, they won’t bat an eyelash at your disappearance. You’re just another foot soldier to them, Ricochet, so why are you even considering this?”

“I know. You think I don’t know this? I have been killing myself over this decision, on whether I should follow my orders to kill you. Do you think I actually want to kill the woman who, every time I see her, no matter what she’s wearing, I want to press her against the closest surface and fuck her until the two of us can’t move? Trust me, this isn’t easy for me, so get that outta your head.”

Becky approached our table with a new coffee for me in hand then she set it down, asking calmly, “Ricochet, could I interest ya in a cuppa something? Might calm ya nerves so I don’t have ta kick ya asses outta shop.” Still burning holes through my soul, he said nonchalantly, “A water would be fine, thank you.”

She turned on her heel then approached Drew and half of the café’s attendees who had gathered around the bar to watch my soulmate and I’s showdown. I stared at him then stated, “Let’s go to my house and settle this, Trevor.”

He glanced over at the crowd watching us then he snapped, eyes glowing emerald, “What the fuck do you think you’re looking at?!” They dispersed at his exclamation then he wrapped his hand around my wrist, practically dragging me from the coffee shop, Drew already on the phone with Seth to let him know what the hell happened.

I dug my heels into the sidewalk then snapped, “I am not walking in that fucking rain, you are out of your goddamn mind.” Finally he took notice of the storm that had fallen upon the city then he narrowed his eyes at me, demanding, “Did you do this, is this your doing?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes, then replied,”I knew I was going to be walking home, there is no way in hell that I would have brought this.”

He pulled me along then glanced up, informing me, “Don’t worry, it’s fine.” I followed his gaze and realized that his wings were out, acting as our umbrella. I gave an impressed look and he wrapped an arm around my waist, fingers brushing the skin that was exposed in our little scuttle. I shivered at his touch then he glanced down at me, concern fleeting across his face as I did then I assured him, “Cold chill, I’m fine. Let’s just get out of this rain.”

Ricochet nodded in agreement then we turned the corner to my house, the rain suddenly picking up as we raced to dart underneath the awning of the entrance. His wings began to fold back in then I slid a hand at the base of them, his entire body stiffening as I asked,”Are they sensitive?”

“Extremely.”he gritted out, eyes glued to my own. I allowed my fingers to delve a little deeper into the feathers, a sigh escaping his mouth and I asked,”Good or bad?” He groaned and admitted, “That all depends.”

“On what exactly?”

“On whether you’re somebody other than my soulmate.” I let out a small laugh and walked into the elevator, leaving him standing around. He joined me in the small space then pressed the button for my floor. I raised an eyebrow at the fact that he knew which floor I lived on then he replied, “Don’t look so surprised, you’re my soulmate. Why wouldn’t I know where you live?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact that nearly every time I’ve run into you, you threaten or even try to kill me? I mean, that does put a bit of a tamper on our relationships, Trevor.” He sighed and stated,”You’re really gonna keep that against me, huh?”

“You tried to kill me on multiple accounts! Of course I’m going to hold it against you, you stupid fucking Nephilim.” With a blink of the eye, he had me pressed against the elevator wall with his fingers wrapped around my hip as he snarled, “I hate that dirty mouth.”

“Funny, all of the men and women who I’ve slept with compliment me on how filthy my mouth gets. Too bad for you, buttercup, you’re missing out.” He let out a growl, clearly annoyed at my statement and for a moment, I thought he was just going to turn around and face the doors of the elevator, only for him to do the exact opposite: he crushed me into a kiss, tongue pressing in.

Mint from his gum swarmed my mind and I gasped with delight as he tangled a hand through my hair, tugging back as he snarled, “You mention another person enjoying your pretty mouth and I’ll make sure that you won’t do it again.”

“Oh jealous are we? In that case, I should probably tell you about the time when Aleister finally agreed to-“

“Not another fucking word. I swear to all the gods in the sky, if you tell me that you’ve slept with that fucking warlock, I am going to end his pathetic life.” He turned back to face the elevator doors and I grabbed his wrist, tugging him back to me with a laugh, reassuring him, “Chill out, jealous ass, I was only teasing you. Aleister is ace and even if he did like sex, he’s not my type. My type is more towards the pretty boy Nephilims with a beard and good manners.”

“Sounds like you have your eyes set on someone. Do I know him?” Ricochet questioned, tangling my fingers with his own as he led me out of the elevator. Oh we’re getting somewhere? My tongue peeked out and he mocked the motion as I replied, “You do actually. Nice guy, very easy on the eyes. But you know, he keeps pulling some fuckery that I’m really not into.”

“Oh no, that’s terrible. I hope that he gains some sense then.” he remarked and I glanced down at my watch, swiping up briefly to check my notifications, then replied, “So do I.” I slid my key in and unlocked the door before pushing the door open, letting Ricochet step inside. I followed him in and shut the door behind me, watching as Aleister appeared from the darkness, his arms winding around my soulmate’s neck.

“W-What the fuck is this?” Trevor choked out, clawing at the warlock’s arms. I sighed and grabbed my already packed bags then stated, “I didn’t want it to come to this, but you leave me no choice, Trevor. I knew you came with me to kill me so I’m going to disappear for a while. I can’t have a Nephilim who just so happens to be my soulmate following me around trying to kill me. It’s kind of a personal thing, but more of a, ‘Hey I really don’t want to die.’ sort of thing.”

Ricochet gritted his teeth together then he growled, “I will find you, Kyla. And when I do, there will be hell to pay.” I pressed my lips together tightly to form a small smile then replied, “And that’s why I had Aleister scrounge up an old spell to use on you. Aleister, you’re welcome to go ahead.”

The dark haired man nodded at me then began reciting the spell, “Soulmates they are, soulmates they will be. Together forever, never apart they should be. Hide the one until the other is ready. From this day forth, she will be hidden until he is ready.” As soon as he finished speaking, he released Ricochet and the two of us disappeared from sight, taking our luggage with us and Trevor roared after us, “Kyla, don’t!”

The initial move started with us in New York City, a hot spot for humans who accepted the supernatural with open arms. It was, after all, a plan where dreams came true so me being the cliche that most people know and love, I went there, hoping that Trevor would come to his senses soon.

But alas, it was a bust and we quickly moved to the Netherlands, enjoying the completely new scenery that the beautiful country offered the two of us. Aleister was, after all, born and raised there so it was particularly nice for him to be back to his roots. It was refreshing for the two of us; however, we were ready for a change not long after moving to the UK.

The next place that we moved to was Egypt, somewhere that I had always wanted to live. It was a wonderful culture with so much to learn and it was a fantastic learning experience overall. But eventually our wanderlust had died out a bit and homesickness for the United States hit like a train wreck one night after I spent nearly all day drinking our liquor cabinet.

“I just don’t understand! If-If he really loves me, why won’t he just accept that we’re soulmates, that we can finally be together without him trying to murder me every step of the way!?” I sobbed, pouring another shot of vodka, only for Aleister to swipe the bottle away from me, stating, “Alright, that’s enough for you, Kyla.”

“That’s what he used to call me!” I wailed, tears streaking my face. He blinked slowly at him then remarked in the most unamused voice possible, “That’s because that’s your name, dumbass.” The morning after was a bit humiliating because our mutual friend, Ali was recording the entire thing and he decided that I needed a reminder of what kind of a weepy monster that I turned into while drinking.

We returned to the States and moved to New Orleans once again, deciding that it was a nice neutral ground. Seven months had passed over the time that we traveled and I hadn’t seen Ricochet at all and I accounted it as him either still not ready to accept me or his legion actually did give a shit about him and decided that he wasn’t leaving.

“Hey, do you mind closing the bar tonight? I have a hot date.” Sonya questioned, wiping down the bar top as I poured shots at an almost inhuman speed. I glanced over my shoulder with a grin, stating, “As long as you’re going on this hot date with Paige. You two are killing me with the whole, ‘Let’s avoid my soulmate.’bit that you have been playing at.”

She laughed and stated, “Oh look who’s talking, Miss I had my best friend cast on a spell on my hot Nephilim soulmate who just so happens to be the man who was selected to murder me.” I let out a laugh then said, “Yea, thank you for that reminder. If I ever decide to change my last name, I definitely won’t consider that as an option.”

Sonya shrugged and disappeared into the crowd towards the time clock, leaving me to handle the few stragglers left in the bar. I flicked my wrist downwards to check the time then realized that it was time to close up and I thankfully didn’t have to kick out anybody who had missed last call.

I was fixing the liquor shelves and restocking the beer cooler when I heard the jingle of the door opening.

“Sorry, buddy, we’re closed but come back tomorrow!” I threw over my shoulder then I heard the squeal of a bar stool scooting out so I turned on my heel, prepared to give the person a piece of my mind, only to freeze. There, sitting in front of me, was Ricochet, two buttons of his shirt loose, revealing the start of his tattoos on either side.

He came to a slow stand and I just stared at him. His beard was longer, his eyes just a bit darker and he had a busted lip. I flicked my tongue out to lick my lips then murmured, “Hi.” He let out a scoff and leaped across the bar with ease, backing me into the shelves.

“Hi? That’s all you have to say to me after you had your asshole of a best friend cast a spell on me is hi?”he spat, shifting to press me into the bar top. I gave a small smile then offered up, “You look hot?”

He closed in on me as he hissed out, “Are you aware of what I have endured in the last seven months while you’ve been la-dee-dahing your way across the world with Aleister?”

“No, but I have a feeling that you’re about to go all flashback on me so if you could, at least let me sit down to listen comfortably.” I said. He scoffed and scooped me up, settling me back down on the bar top as he began to spin the tale of what he suffered while I was hiding away.

Ricochet’s Point of View:

In the blink of an eye, they were gone and I smashed into the ground, my forearms just barely saving my face from greeting the floor. I groaned and rolled onto my back as a scream made its way from my throat, rolling forward to land on my feet.

“Shit… shit, shit!” I shouted, smashing my fists into the walls as realization began to set in. Kyla was gone. And thanks to that fucking warlock, I wouldn’t see her until I figured out what I truly wanted. I turned away from the damage that I caused then ran a hand over my head, grumbling to myself. What was I going to do now?

A week had passed and the Council had finally figured out just how badly I fucked up this situation.

“Come forth, Ricochet, and speak your truth.” Bray called out, waving me forward. I hung my head and groaned internally, dragging my feet as I approached the council of the seven intimidating deities. Bray sat in the middle with Alexa, Luke, and Ember to his left and Zelina, Karl, and Jeff to his right.

“I-I honestly have no idea on how this happened, truly!” I began, only for Alexa to snip, “Oh really? And here we were thinking that you let that little witch and warlock go free.” Jeff rolled his eyes and replied, “Go elsewhere with your ninety cent bullshit, Alexa, we’re here to discuss the situation and how we should handle it according to the circumstances.”

“I am surprisingly with the Enigma on this one. Ricochet, what say you on your behalf?” Zelina questioned, leaning forward on her perfectly manicured hands. I sighed and slid down in my seat as I began to explain what all happened just a week ago and when I finished speaking, the Council stared at me with obvious mixed emotions.

“So what you’re tellin’ us, is that you managed to get lured back to her apartment, get captured by a warlock of all things to be caught by, then a few words in English and bam! You can’t find your soulmate, who’s also your possible future murder victim?” Ember asked, blinking slowly at me. I hung my head and admitted in a small voice, “Unfortunately yes, Goddess,that is exactly what I am telling you.” They stared at me for a few moments, not saying anything in response to my story, then they burst into laughter, shaking their heads.

“You, a Nephilim, was bested by a witch and warlock? Pathetic.” Luke spat, rolling his eyes. I began to speak up for myself, only for Karl to cut me off, “We should strip him of his wings right now. He is a disgrace to this world.”

“Luke, please act sensible. He’s but a mere boy. Doesn’t have as much as knowledge as we do.” Bray murmured, stroking his beard.

“Not to mention the fact that it was his soulmate that he was dealing with. I mean, that’s difficult to do on a regular basis but he was trying to bait her into his trick so he could kill her. That’s a tough situation.” Jeff chimed in, giving me a nod of acknowledgement.

I gave him a thankful smile then Alexa commented, “I think he’s blindsided by her and he won’t be able to finish the job.” Bray hummed at her addition and stated, “It’s possible… Ricochet, do you think you would be able to kill your soulmate, Kyla Nightingale?” I paused at his question, and thought about it. Would I be able to kill the love of my life, the only person that I would actually be able to love in life?

“No… no, he wouldn’t be able to. As much as he wants to please us, he doesn’t believe that she’s a danger to the world.” Zelina said, tapping her nails on the table top, as if she was passing the conversation down to Jeff.

“Well, it’s not like we know for sure that she knows the spells that we think she knows. For all we know, she has the book hidden away with Aleister guarding it. And she had so much power, really, it’d be a shame to kill her.” Jeff commented offhandedly, but his eyes spoke his truth: it was wrong to kill Kyla because of a suspicion.

“I suppose we could just not kill her. Let our dear Ricochet go back to his lovely, he could make sure she wouldn’t use that mysterious magic of hers. But of course, we do need to reprimand him for failing to kill her.”

“Strip me of my wings. Not literally, but take my standing. Make an example of me.” I suggested and confusion spread across the deities’ faces. They obviously were surprised to hear my option then Luke chimed in, “Let’s do it and call it a night.”

Kyla’s Point of View:

“They… they stripped you of your status?” I murmured, cupping his cheeks. He gave a tight smile and replied, “Yeah, I wanted to live, but they needed to make an example of me. I did it for you.”

“Trevor, you gave up your status of a high ranking Nephilim and for what? For a witch who’s caused you nothing but misery every step of the way?” He cupped my cheeks and pulled me closer, stating, “No… I didn’t do it for a witch. I did it for my soulmate. I love you, Kyla. You may not believe me now, you may not believe me a month down the road. But I do and I would do anything for you.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to throw your entire life away just for me.” I stated, circling my hands around his wrists. He smiled and murmured, “I’m not. I’m making my life better by having you in it. Can’t you see that?”

I laughed softly then replied, “Someone has been reading a whole lot of romance novels while I’ve been fucking gone.”

“God, I hate that dirty mouth.”he groaned, pulling me into a kiss. I smirked into his lips and replied, “But you love me so it’s fine!”

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hollenka99 · 5 years ago

Note

dear past me, for the ask thing?

You know, it's funny. As we got closer to the new year, I was planning to write something based on this. So I'm gonna put some stuff that I thought of including in that piece.

(This ended up pretty heavy so be warned. There's mentions of cancer, implied self harm, biphobia and emotional abuse. There are some lighter moments though so don't worry).

Age 6

Mum is going to be fine. I promise. In a few months, she won't have to go to Addenbrooke's anymore. Plus, her hair's gonna grow back. Although, it will come back in patches so... watch out for that.

Either way, Mum's going to come out the over side with just a few scars but otherwise fine. Trust me, she is still telling me to keep my room tidy and eat vegetables when I'm 20.

Maybe do your best to be well behaved. I'm sure Dad's pretty stressed, along with Mum. I can assure you they'd appreciate anything that they don't have to worry about on top of the cancer.

Once you get to junior school, try to hang in there. You are not stupid, believe me. You have a learning disorder and we're going to finally get a diagnosis when we're 10. Things get better after that. You even get an award at the end of Year 6!

So yeah, everything's going to be okay.

Age 12

Mum and Dad are not getting divorced. They are still married when we're 20. Should they be divorced? Definitely. But I'm afraid an interpreter's unstable salary isn't enough to support a single mother and her daughter. We don't realise that until we're like 17 or 18 though so you're good.

On that note, don't feel like you have to be there for her everytime Dad takes out his frustration on her. You are 12. You are still a child. Yes, you are, regardless of how mature you're starting to feel. Being a big part of a 50 year old woman's emotional support system is not something you should have found yourself involved in. I hate to say it but it's Mum's fault for putting you in that position. She shouldn't vent to you so often. Honestly, I'm surprised that school counsellor never picked up on that.

Be a kid, for Christ sake. Take advantage of hanging out with Indiana next summer. Make the most of her trampoline because we both know you're never going to own one yourself. Our garden's too small.

Oh hey, please give Honey lots of cuddles. I miss her being that tiny. I miss her in general now that I'm not living at home. It feels so great to have her chilling on our bed sometimes.

Have fun in your upcoming Directioner phase too. Attraction is a hell of a feeling and I don't know how we managed to cope with it at 12/13, let alone 15 when it was towards someone we actually knew personally. So yeah, have fun.

Age 16

I am so proud of you. Thank you for deciding to quit for real. I reached 4 years of being 'clean' (if that's even the right word) last December. You're going to eventually get a chance to have therapy sessions with a woman named Bex. She was really nice. I miss being able to talk to her. Unfortunately, it turns out she's under 18s only which really sucks. We don't find out until the end of our last session.

On the subject of talking to people about this, we don't have the talk with Mum and Dad on our own terms. That's safeguarding for you. They were going to have to find out one way or another. You'll feel angry about it and believe you made a mistake letting someone know. You haven't made a mistake at all. Your feelings in all this are completely valid.

Hang in there when it comes to 2016 in general. With Mum being the only one bringing in money, things can get stressful. Dad's attempt to start his own business doesn't take off before he gets a proper job.

Say hi to Jacksepticeye, Markiplier, Supernatural, Hamilton and Heathers for me. They're going to help you survive the year.

Also, while I have you, do you mind doing me a favour? So, next Halloween, there's going to be a video. It's a really cool one, trust me. I've watched it so many times, especially the ending. However, I have never been able to remember my first time watching it. I can recall exactly where I was in the house and what I was doing as I watched the video's sequel of sorts. But not the Halloween vid. So could you please pay attention and remember watching the pumpkin video? That'd be great. Thanks.

Age 17

Yo, look who finally realised she's into girls too! Congratulations. You've got a lot to look forward to. First pride, for one. And I mean, Finley's always been a good friend. He's our biggest supporter, back then and now.

Don't worry about coming out to Mum and Dad not going as you'd hoped. That whole ordeal was a bit of a shitshow but you don't need me to tell you that. The main thing to take away is that they support you. As annoying as Mum asking about whether we're dating anyone is, at least she includes 'girlfriend' in the question which means a lot.

And no... we haven't had our first romantic relationship yet. Still waiting for a meet cute to happen. I'll update you on that, I guess.

Have fun writing The L in LGBT next February. And please don't forget what I asked you to do regarding Jack's Halloween video at the end of this month.

Age 19

You're almost out. Please hang on a little longer. You'll be amazed how less stressed you are while living on your own. You just have to turn 20 then make it to September 20th. After that, you can get the distance you've been craving since you were 12.

Of course, being away from home isn't as easy as that. Distance means a chance to reflect. I'm pretty sure it is what we've suspected but always convinced ourselves the behaviours didn't match up to stuff on websites.

Just hang on. We're one step closer to being out forever.

#bupine #ask #tw self harm #tw emotional abuse #tw abuse #tw cancer

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niall-is-my-dream · 6 years ago

Text

You & Me - Part One

2750 words

May 2017

Backstage was a hub of activity, sound check was done but you'd got a few things to organise before you could head for some food. People moving equipment around and finalising the details for the show today.

"I need some water." A very beautiful blonde bluntly said to you, an all access pass hanging around her neck.

"The food and drink area is down the hall, second on the left." You replied, more politely than you should have considering how rude she had been to you.

"Can't you get it for me?" She asked, looking you up and down like you were something she found on the bottom of her shoe. Apparently your skinny jeans and t-shirt were not to her standards.

"Um, no I have a job to do."

"Aren't you suppose to do whatever Niall asks of you? Isn't that what he pays you for?"

Oh good God, she was one of those.

"I'm a guitar technician, Niall pays me to maintain and set up his instruments for him. He certainly does not pay me to get people drinks." You replied slowly, making sure she got your point.

"Excuse me, who do you think you are?!"

"I'm Callie, Niall's guitar technician. And you are?!" You replied smirking.

"Don't you know who I am?!"

You couldn't help the massive eye roll that occurred.

The sound of someone coming down the steps from the stage had you both turning around. Niall came strolling towards you, dressed casually in dark jeans and a navy t-shirt. Ignoring the obvious atmosphere in the small back area that his guitars were set out in.

"This one sounds so much better since you put those new strings on." He said to you. "You alright?" He suddenly asked the stunning blonde.

"No, this girl won't get me any water."

Niall looked at you and you raised your eyebrows at him, a look of annoyance on your face as he handed you his guitar.

"She's my guitar tech love, and the canteen is down the hall."

"But she was rude to me, surely these people do whatever you want them to."

You shook your head in disgust, honestly what was wrong with her?

Niall looked over to you, he knew you weren't someone who would be rude without a valid reason. He also knew that Saskia was used to getting what she wanted and expected others to cater for her every need.

"Why don't we leave Cal to do her job and we can go get some water and some food?" He replied, placing his hand on the small of her back and guiding her away from you.

The blonde, whose name you didn't know and frankly didn't care to know walked off with Niall. He turned to look at you, giving you a sympathetic sorry look. You didn't return it, he needed to keep his pretty bits of skirt away from you.

Two Months Later

Lazing in the Portuguese sun with a cocktail in one hand and your phone in the other, you started to scroll through Instagram. You noticed that you'd gotten a notification, so opened up the page.

"Woah!" You said, the shock evident in your face.

"What?!!" Bex asked, clearly confused by your face.

"My phone has literally blown up with notifications, and I have like 6,500 more followers?!"

"Babe, seriously?! I mean our bikini shot was good but......" She laughed thinking you were joking with her.

"Oh for fuck sake Niall!" You mumbled. "He fucking liked the picture."

"Did he now?!"

You didn't reply but just rolled your eyes at her.

You scrolled through the comments and they were all from Niall fans. It had happened before when he had started following you. You'd been working with him since he went solo. His first single had been a surprise success, so his management had organised a team to support his performances. You were one of his personal guitar technicians.

When you had been celebrating the success of Slow Hands and toured around with him and his band in the early summer, you had instantly started following them all and in turn them you. Nialls fans were hot on stuff like this and you'd actually had to change your bio to say 'guitar technician, currently touring with Niall Horan' just to clarify who you were.

The fans had asked questions on your most recent post, wanting to know who you were. You had only got a few hundred followers and now your total stood at over 10,000.

You closed the app and started a new text.

"Ni, wtf, you liked my pic? My phone is blowing up with notifications!"

You opened up IG again and started reading the comments.

Oh God!

There were some weird comments.

You'd seen ones like this before. You started following each other and you were female, so everyone read way more into it than they should. You were just colleagues who were friends now, seeing as you clicked instantly when you met. He was humble, down to earth and you liked a lot of the same music. After he experienced problems with his guitar during a performance a few months ago when you'd had to help Jake with something and Phil, another colleague had taken over and messed up, he had insisted that only you helped him. You didn't mind, if you were honest. You preferred just working with him.

It was less than ten minutes later when a new message appeared.

"Sorry! But the picture was too good to not like. Fyi Willie thinks your friend is cute. 😉"

You smiled at his message. Lingering on the words of it being 'too good to not like'.

"Nialls cousin thinks you're cute." You said turning to Bex.

"He does? Is he cute? Have you met him?" She blurted out quickly.

"Bex......... you sound a bit desperate!"

"I've been single for a year and haven't even been on a date for 5 months!"

Now that made you laugh. Bex and yourself were not doing particularly well in that department. Having ended things with your boyfriend at the beginning of the year when you agreed to follow Niall and his team around the world. Having been with Jack for almost a year, you thought he'd understand your job by now. However working with someone as well known as Niall, who would be travelling a lot and heading as far as Australia, would be demanding your full attention. Jack wasn't keen on being left behind.

But at 24, scoring a job like touring and working personally with Niall Horan was as good as it got. You would see the world, get to do your dream job and get paid for it. The fact that Niall was gorgeous and great fun to be around was an added bonus. Being a realist you knew he was way out of your league, and instead a great friendship had been formed and he trusted you with your opinion musically.

"I've met his cousin a couple of times when he visited him when we were working. He's cute too and really nice." You answered, your fingers hovering over the keypad trying to decide how to answer Niall.

"Ask him to send a picture of them!"

"What?"

"I want to see what he looks like!"

"Ok."

Deciding to ignore the things he had said about your picture, you just told him that Bex was intrigued to see a picture of Willie to see if he was a cute to.

"You don't want to see a picture of me then?!" He asked.

You guys had some great banter when you all hung out when you were working but you'd never text him like this before.

"Meh, I mean if you want to send one?"

"Cheeky! 😉"

A few minutes later he replied with a picture of Willie, sitting by a swimming pool with a beer in his hand. He looked slightly pink from being in the sun but definitely cute and Bex agreed.

"She thinks he's cute too. Are you guys on holiday?" You quickly replied.

"Yeah, this is my view of Ibiza today."

He had added a picture of his legs and feet with an amazing view of the hills and countryside. He was clearly lying on a sunlounger by the same pool as Willie.

Deciding to test the waters with a bit of flirting, you took an almost identical picture of your legs and feet with your view of the sea from where you were lying on the beach.

"My view in Portugal today."

You looked over to see Bex eyeing you up. "Are you sending him a picture of your legs?!" She asked with a massive smirk on her face.

You blushed when you saw his reply come through seconds later.

"Nice view. Great tan."

"Thanks, I bet you're as sun burnt as Willie aren't you?"

"I'm a little bit pink. The boys aren't exactly enthusiastic with putting sun lotion on me!"

The boys?! Mmm...... Your need to know if it was a lads holiday or if she was with him was burning inside you. Once again you hovered over the keypad before deciding just to ask him outright.

"Saskia not with you to assist then?"

The bubbles came up instantly showing he was replying.

"No, I'm not seeing her anymore."

"That's a shame."

"Liar, I know you didn't like her! 😂😂😂"

"I'm sure she was a lovely person, just not to me! But I am sorry it didn't work out. "

"It was just casual anyway. She ended up not being who I thought she was."

"Oh, well we've got tour soon so we will be busy with that. I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too. X"

"Enjoy the rest of your holiday. Let me know when you're back in London and we can try and set these two up."

"You too. I'll see you when we get back."

"And Ni, please stop liking my pictures, your fans are going crazy!"

"Well stop posting bikini shots then!!!!!!!"

"Stalker!"

"You're the one who follows me around!"

"I get paid to do that you arsehole!"

You were laughing now and Bex was still watching you like a hawk.

"Stop with name calling, I'm off to cry into my beer!"

"Whatever!"

"Missed our banter. Can't wait to see you."

"Looking forward to seeing you too."

You locked your phone and looked over to Bex. "What?!"

"Were you flirting with him?!"

"No, it was just banter."

"Really?! Then why are you blushing?!

"I'm not, the temperature is like 35 degrees!"

"Mmmhmmm."

"I'm going to cool off in the sea." You said, avoiding her gaze.

Heading down to the shoreline you looked out across the sea, watching all the boats cruising around the bay.

You were blushing. His words had never had an effect on you before. It had been a few weeks since you'd seen him and the team and you were missing them all. Tour wasn't due to start for another month but rehearsals started in just over a week. You'd be back with them all soon and you couldn't wait.

The weather in London was beautiful, bright blue skies and blazing sun, not a match on Portugal though. It felt great to be home, for a couple of weeks at least. Rehearsals didn't start for a few days so you filled your time pretty much doing nothing. Bex had gone back to work the day after you got back from Portugal, so the flat you shared was empty. Lazing on the sofa browsing Netflix had been your daily activity.

Your phone bleeped from the coffee table.

"Fancy setting up Willie and Bex?" Niall asked. You hadn't heard from him since you were away.

"I do! What did you have in mind?"

"Start off with a trip to the pub later if you're both free?"

"Sounds good, I'll check with Bex and let you know."

"Ok cool, what are you up to now?"

"Don't judge me but....." You replied with a picture of your bare legs stretched out on your sofa, the tv on in the background showing Pretty Woman.

"Great choice. I'm watching golf highlights." He replied with a picture of his bare legs and his giant tv.

"Surprise surprise!"

"I know, I'm so predictable!"

You left the texting there and dropped Bex a message asking her if she fancied going to the pub to meet everyone. Her initial excitement shown on holiday had now diminished and she was unsure and incredibly nervous. An hour later and she had agreed.

A quick message to Niall and you'd finalised the plans.

The pub in Brixton that Niall had suggested wasn't too far from yours, you'd been in there once before. Bex ordered you both a beer as you looked around the pub and didn't spot them.

"Maybe they're in the garden?" Bex said as she paid for your drinks.

"Yeah, let's head out there."

Sure enough as you reach the door to the pub garden you heard his laugh.

Tara spotted you first and jumped out of her seat to run to you and engulf you in a hug. It had been ages since you'd seen her. As Niall's assistant she normally travelled most places with him, she would be joining him on tour to. Niall turned around at that point and smiled when he saw you.

Making your way over to the table with a very nervous Bex, you realised you knew almost everyone from when they had visited Niall at some point when he had been performing over the last few months. Niall introduced you to everyone and the only person you hadn't met before.

"This is Conor. His band WildYouth are performing with us the first night of tour. And this Conor, is Callie my guitar technician." Niall said proudly.

"Ah the famous Callie!" He said smiling.

"I hope that's a good thing!" You said, taking the empty seat next to Niall. Bex sat down next to you taking the last empty seat next to Willie. They looked at each other nervously and you caught Niall's smirk.

"He's been stalking her Instagram." He whispered to you.

"Has he really?!" You whispered back.

"Well I helped, there are some very interesting pictures of you on there."

"Yep there is! Just don't go liking them. My follower count is ridiculous and I've had to turn my notifications off."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. Just didn't think." He replied, you could hear the sadness in his voice. A simple like of a friends picture can cause so much trouble for him.

"Its ok, I haven't had too much hate."

"Just ignore it, ok?"

"I am." You replied finally meeting his eyes, and you saw sadness behind them.

A couple of hours later and with the drinks flowing, Willie and Bex had exchanged numbers. Niall had nudged your shoulder when he saw them get their phones out. Both of you smirked, enjoying your match making skills.

"They can keep each other company while we are away." You whispered, and Niall agreed with a nod.

Making your way back from the toilet a little while later, you stopped before you came around the corner to the bar when you heard your name.

"So Callie is exactly as you described her." Conor said.

"Yeah, she's pretty great." Niall agreed.

"So, is she single?!"

"Yeah she is, but she's off limits for you!"

"Off limits? You got yourself a crush there Nialler?!"

"No!" He's scoffed. "It's just, she works for me. She's bloody good at her job and I don't want my friends leeching all over her."

"Ok fair enough. Shame though, she's beautiful."

"She's stunning, but off limits. Ok?!"

"Fine!"

"Come on, let's get back out there with these drinks."

You left it a few seconds before rounding the corner and catching up with the lads as they exited the bar to the pub garden.

Laying in bed that night you couldn't stop thinking about what Niall had said. First that you were off limits to pretty much everyone you were likely to meet while working with him and second of all he said you were stunning.

Stunning.

Never in your life have you been called that. You couldn't read much into it. He's already said you were off limits and you assume that meant him to.

Part two

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/182467949243/you-me-part-two

#Niall #Niall horan #Niall fan fic #Niall fan fiction #Niall horan fan fic #Niall horan fan fiction #Niall your #flicker sessions #Emily writes

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thedarkestgreys · 1 year ago

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… exile???

FUCKING EXILE???

starting with bon iver’s verse???

my whole fucking heart for conrad fisher 😭😭😭

#bex watches the summer i turned pretty

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multiples-of-three · 5 years ago

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Last Andi Mack Episode

Hey anyone who's reading this,

I haven't been on Tumblr a lot lately, but I wanted to come on here and post about Andi Mack since Tumblr has always been my go to place for Tyrus content.

About two years ago is when I started watching Andi Mack. It was summer, I had nothing to do, I've been a Disney channel fan forever and wanted to see what this new show was about. At that point there were about twelve episodes if I'm remembering correctly. I think I watched them all in a day or two.

It didn't feel like a Disney show. I always watched Good Luck Charlie, Shake it Up, Wizards, Austin and Ally, Jessie, ANT Farm, etc. Maybe it was because I watched Andi as a teenager, maybe it just was different, but it didn't feel like the other shows. It wasn't a bad different, if it was, I wouldn't be writing this.

I kept watching Andi Mack, and then Cyrus came out. Yeah, I had heard those rumors about Cyrus being gay and stuff, but I didn't think Disney channel would actually have a main character come out, have a crush on other main characters, etc.

I was a jyrus shipper for a little bit. But while reading a jyrus fanfic I stumbled across a Tyrus one, and was like "hey this is a good ship". This was around the time everyone was "jumping ship" or whatever you'd say, and I did the same. Became intensely into Tyrus.

Idk why Tyrus means so much to me. Maybe because it's the first gay relationship (because OH MY FUCKING GOSH ITS ACTUALLY CANON NOW) on Disney channel. Maybe because it reminds me of good memories. Maybe just because I'm a sucker for some gay ships. Idk

I knew there wouldn't be a Tyus kiss. Hopefully one day Disney channel will get to that with another show. I did think the moment between TJ and Cyrus meant so much and was so emotional and just amazing. I don't think it could really get much better. UGH I JUST LOVED THAT SCENE SO MUCH I was doing a weird laughing, crying, and freaking out mix. Its amazing. It shows kids it's okay to be gay, you can like whoever you like. Not just kids, anyone watching it. There's just so much emotion in that scene, it shows how real the relationship is and ugh I love it so much.

Yeah, I know I've mainly been talking about Tyrus, and Tyrus is the main reason I enjoy this show, but I also love the characters, storylines, etc. My favorite story other than TJ and Cyrus' was probably Amber's. Character development is awesome.

Another good story was Jonah's. There was this Tumblr post a while ago about "best ships" and one was Jonah x good mental health. I told my brother, he watches Andi with me (he's a more casual fan though lol), about that post, and we would reference it all the time. Jonah is a nice dude, and him being the main character's crush (at least for a little while) and also having a completely different storyline than a relationship with the main character was awesome.

And then going back to the first season, teenage pregnancy? Who'd of thought that'd be in a Disney channel show. It was a great story, along with Bex and Bowie's relationship.

Overall, Andi Mack is an amazing show. People who say new Disney is bad need to watch it. I could go on and on about how "new" disney is pretty similar to our "old" disney, and how Andi Mack is different than really any other Disney show was, but in the end, it's just a great show. Ugh I have so much more I could say but I don't know how to word it. I'll end this here though by saying that Andi Mack had a big impact on my life, is an amazing show, and had a great ending as well. I can't believe it's over. No more wondering if there'd be Tyrus content in the next episode. No more checking Tumblr after new episodes. It's crazy. Tyrus is real. Wtf. This is unreal. I JUST LOVE THIS FANDOM AND THIS SHOW AND THIS SHIP OMFG.

Oh, and here, have this that I didn't really know where else to put in the post cause it's kinda dumb.

Andi Mack helped me get really into into fanfic lol. Yeah, I had read random Wattpad fanfics and also some original Wattpad books here and there, but I didn't get so into fanfic until I started shipping jyrus and then Tyrus. Yeah, saying a show has a huge impact on me because it got me super into fanfic is kinda weird, but I can always turn to fanfic to make me happy (or whatever emotion depending on whatever I'm reading) Fanfic reading is a weird hobby, but idk where I'd be without it. So thanks Andi Mack.

I'm gonna sleep now yay. I can't believe I just spent so much time writing that. I hope you enjoyed if you read it lol

#tyrus #me being super sappy about a disney channel show

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runningonmarvel · 6 years ago

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be my valentine ch. 1

Happy Valentine’s Day!!! @you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus For your valentine’s day gift I have written two chapters of a multi-chapter Valentine’s Day-centric fic (and I will of course be finishing and posting the rest of the chapters in due time, but, these two chapters are pretty long so I figured it works). Anyways, I hope you like it and happy Valentine’s day!!

A/N: takes place the two weeks before Valentine’s Day in their junior year. wonah. bandi. tyrus. a few curses. unedited but enjoy!!

Chapter 1: Put Your Hand in Mine

You know that I want to be with you all the time.

Jonah snaps the headphones over his ears and half closes his eyes, back against the bench. It’s a romantic song, too peppy for his current mood, but he can’t stop listening to it. He taps one foot against on the tiled floor while Grant students shove by each other.

Oh darling, darling, baby you're so very fine

You know that I won't stop until I make you mine

He’s so sick of love songs. Andi loves them: Taylor Swift and Meghan Trainor and Beyonce. So maybe there’s a reason behind his newfound annoyance with sappiness on the radio. But this one keeps sticking in his head. Jonah imagines reaching out his hand and taking someone else’s. And for the first time in a very, very long time, the person holding his hand in his imagination isn’t Andi. And it’s not Amber, or Natalie, or anyone else.

As half of Grant high school shoves by him, Jonah pushes the headphones down around his neck. He can hear his heart pounding way-too-loudly in his chest, and there’s a continuous beat and song inside his head.

Until I make you mine

And all he can think is: just in time for Valentine’s Day.

————

“Driscoll, catch!” Andi ducks out of the way just in time for Buffy to catch the miscellaneous basketball team member’s thrown shoe. She stares at it in confusion, but Buffy just shoves it into her backpack, gives a quick wave of thanks to the girl sprawled out on the bench, and turns back to Andi.

“Eleanor took my shoe on accident,” she explains, but Buffy’s eyes have already moved on from this conversation. They drift upwards to the large pink banner strung across Grant’s entrance, which is currently being pinned up and decorated with paper heart chains. Andi doesn’t stop to consider how an extra shoe can be taken accidentally and instead gapes up at the poster.

“Since when do we have a Valetine’s Day Dance?” Andi asks.

As if summoned by the deity of high school cheesiness, Student Council president Kip Warren steps into their path. “Since you juniors started sucking at raising money for our prom. We’re having a fundraiser dance—you buy candygrams and roses for people for three times the prices we bought them for. And we’re using that money to pay for a real prom, not one which you idiots scheduled in someone’s garage.” Kip storms away, and a lone senior—one of Amber’s friends—starts applauding.

“He’s way too salty. I heard that our student council planned a good prom but he’s just picky and annoying. Ugh,” Buffy says, glaring after him.

“And they’re probably spending more money on this dance then they’ll make from a few candygrams, honestly.” Andi bends over to grab a cardboard heart, which she reattaches to the wall.

“Cyrus is going to have a field day, though,” Buffy says. She looks curiously over at Andi. “Do you think you’ll go?”

Andi feels something rush through her: undeserved indignation, maybe, accompanied by an annoying blush she wishes would go away. “I mean… are you?”

“I would suggest the Good Hair Crew go, but you already know Cyrus is dedicating this night to his boy.” Buffy shrugs. “We could go together? Single and unattached?”

If Andi were eating cereal right now, she would choke. She hasn’t been to any date-requiring function since her year-long disaster of a breakup with Jonah. And now Buffy Driscoll had the audacity to stand in front of hear with her cheeks blushed dark and her eyelashes clipping her cheeks and ask her to the dance.

“I mean—sure! Maybe Amber could go with us too?”

“You don’t think Amber is going to ask Iris? I think she’ll finally get the nerve to do it. I should probably make a bet on it,” Buffy considers, digging for her wallet and frowning slightly.

“Maybe we should ask boys?” Andi counters, suddenly. Buffy glances up at her, and the look in her eyes could kill.

“Maybe I’ll ask Natalie. She’s cute.”

Andi can’t even respond to that. So she does what she learned best from her mother; she changes the subject.

“So, Buffy. What’d you think of the movie you and Cyrus saw?” Andi tilts her head, meeting Buffy’s eyes again. She thinks of the cheesy block letters glued to the Valentine’s Day Banner: Will you be our Valentine? February 14th at 7. Two weeks away.

Buffy knows this game, but Andi watches her play along. “Best Summer of My Life 2? It was alright. Not as good as the first one. The love story kind of sucked—classic girl meets bad boy trope.”

“Wish I could have seen it,” Andi says, adjusting the straps on her backpack.

“Yeah, well. How was Iris’s?”

Andi has a momentary flashback to Amber and Iris chucking Skyzone dodgeballs at her while shrieking filled the general vicinity. Somehow, Iris had been convinced to have a birthday at a trampoline place, and somehow, Amber had been coerced into going along with it.

“Horrifying.”

Buffy laughs uncomfortably, and Andi can hear the nonexistent joke fall flat. How long has it been like this? How long has the Good Hair Crew been out of sync, and the tension between Buffy and Andi unbreakable?

Almost a year. Too long.

“Well, I’ve got Lit. See you later?” Buffy doesn’t bother waiting around for an answer to the question. She strides away, and it’s all Andi can do to avoid staring directly at the back of her head as she leaves.

“Ask Natalie,” Andi scoffs to herself, kicking at a spot on the ground. Cyrus would call her pettiness levels off the chart, but Andi doesn’t have any other way to react to Buffy. It’s not just the ever-rotating list of new girls; it’s Buffy’s obvious annoyance with Amber, it’s Buffy’s piercing eyes and sharp, true smile she hasn’t worn in so long. It’s Buffy’s acceptance of whatever is between them, while Andi flounders, trying to pretend she’s still in the waters of freshman year, when Jonah was her only problem.

When did the thoughts in her head get so complicated? Don’t answer that, she tells herself, because she already knows the answer. Andi lifts her phone from her pocket and starts absentmindedly scrolling through her old photos. There’s Cyrus and TJ sharing a milkshake with Buffy’s arms around them. There’s Amber trying on a faded leather jacket and Andi wearing a worn suit at the Thrift Store. Andi and her mom attempting gardening while Bowie laughed in their general direction. Buffy, Cyrus, and Andi holding on for dear life while ice skating two winters ago. Further back, there’s Jonah kissing Andi on the cheek, and Marty with his arm around Buffy and Andi with her arm around Jonah on some ridiculous double date. There’s a couple miscellaneous photos of Cyrus in his costume from the musical. And then, from about a year ago—

Andi’s cheeks color red. Red, like the sauce on Bex’s homemade pizza she recently learned to cook. Red, like the color of the Space Otters’ failed sophomore year uniforms. And she shuts her phone.

This is why it’s so hard to talk to Buffy. More than the color of her eyes or the defiance in her words, it’s the specific memory every time Buffy smiles at her. It’s the memory that’s controlling her.

Andi glances back at the Valentine’s Day banner, and sticks her tongue out just for good measure. She won’t let a stupid dance run by stupid Kip Warren control her too.

Then, from behind, a hand grabs her by the shoulder and starts dragging her backwards. Andi yelps, already running through the list of eight things she learned in self-defense class with Bex this summer. Quote: if you’re not a strong athlete your best hope is to hit where it hurts. Anywhere.” Andi is about ready to swing when the arm drags her into a closet and reveals the body attached to it.

“Cyrus?”

“Sorry,” he pants, as if the physical effort to kidnap her from the hallway was exhausting. “Top secret… information.”

“Oh?” Andi says, suddenly interesting. “Another cult?”

“Heck no,” Cyrus says. “I’ve got a plan for Valentine’s Day, for TJ. But I wanted to run it by you and Buffy first. And probably Jonah too.”

Andi starts to smile, leaning back against the shelves on the wall. “Spill.”

“Well… since his big game is on Valentine’s Day…” Cyrus leads in, unable to contain his grin.

“Go on.”

“I was thinking… we could all go… and hold up signs—“

“Signs for TJ! Valentine’s Day signs?!” Andi puts a hand over her mouth. “Cyrus, that’s adorable. No, it’s perfect!”

“Yeah, and I’d ask him to the dance, and we’d go afterwards, and hopefully he won his big game, and then the dance would be super romantic, and he could take the signs home and hang them up on the walls of his room, and we’d take polaroids before the dance in our suits, and you guys would be there—“ “Thought about it much?” Andi cuts in, but her lips curl upwards with excitement. The mention of the dance is the only sour bit—Andi doesn’t need that subtle reminder that she’ll never know how to not be awkward with Buffy about it. She’ll never know how to articulate what she wants, so she’ll be stuck watching TJ and Cyrus and maybe Buffy and Natalie or some other random girl get their perfect Valentine’s Days.

“Well, maybe a little. Anyways, do you like?”

Andi breaks out of her thoughts. “I don’t like, I love. When do we make the signs?”

“This weekend maybe? To be ready by that Friday?”

“You got it, Cyrus. Text Buffy, she’ll be thrilled.”

Cyrus narrows his eyes. “She will not. I’m betting she doesn’t want to help with the signs, so it might just be you and me.”

“Aw, Buffy’ll help if you ask her.” TJ and Buffy don’t fight anymore, but it suffices to say that they’re not exactly best friends.

“I’m already asking her to hold up one of the signs. And especially if she ends up with a crucial word—for example, Valentine—I can’t risk losing her support. I’ll just ask her about that and see how it goes.”

Andi smiles. “You and TJ have been dating for a year now, Cyrus.” Strange. A lot happened a year ago. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to hold up a sign. She just might not cheer for him.”

Cyrus nods, laughing a little. He types out a text on his phone to Buffy, sends it, then looks back up at Andi, looking a little panicked. “Should I tell Jonah? I need him to hold up the sign that says TJ. I don’t think he’s busy that weekend, the Otters don’t have a game—“ “Text him,” Andi reassures Cyrus. He nods and types out the text while still looking up at her.

“I need Buffy, Jonah, you, and Amber. I’ll text Amber and Jonah tonight.”

“You’re asking TJ’s sister to help with his Valentine’s Day ask?” Cyrus and Amber have been friends since middle school, and it’s still hard for Andi to wrap her head around sometimes that Cyrus is dating the brother of one of Andi’s closest friends and is additionally friends with her. It’s the type of friendship that thrives off drama, and Andi has a feeling that even if Cyrus and TJ break up (which it seems like they never will), Amber and Cyrus will be close until the ends of the earth.

“Of course. Who else was I supposed to ask? Walker?” Cyrus asks, giving Andi a look. It’s a group-acknowledged truth that Andi drove Walker from the group, even if Buffy was the last one who dated him. Walker hasn’t hung out with them for a year and a half now, except maybe a few times with Jonah. Andi misses him and his lovely creativity, but she doesn’t miss the drama he brought; Buffy was happier with Marty than with him, but then she was happier by herself than with Marty. Andi blinks slowly, realizing how this topic has made its way back to her again.

“Amber will be fine,” Andi assures, her mind not really on Cyrus or TJ. “You think she’ll finally get the guts to ask out Iris?”

Cyrus shrugs. “I hope so. Who are you going with, anyways? Not Jonah—“

“No.”

A pause.

“Jonah is my friend, yes. But I’m done being romantic with him.” Andi stops, because the words sound harsh, even if they are true. “Buffy and I are just gonna go together, like old times.”

Cyrus smiles a half smile, because old times would include him too. And all three of them know that they’ve moved on from old times. Maybe Andi the most. And yet.

“I’m gonna go find TJ now. Keep the plan under wraps, ‘kay? Friday afternoon we can pick out supplies?” “Glitter glue!” Andi says, and she can’t stop it from coming out like a squeal. “Count me in.”

Cyrus steps out, the brightness of his phone lighting up the dim closet, and leaves Andi alone, still against the wall.

Alone.

In the closet.

Andi nearly throws her phone across the room.

————

There are three parks in downtown Shadyside: the tiny one off the elementary school, the Valley Park where legend says a swamp monster lives, and Agley Park. Agley is where coffee shop people go to be in nature; it’s also, incidentally, Walker’s favorite place in town. The Saturday morning is crisp, with light winter fog in the air, and Agley looks like the rolling fields and forests of some picturesque Scottish village. The only piece of color barring the serenity is the hunk of metal in the middle of one of the squares; that hunk of metal, though, is what has drawn Walker downtown this early on a Saturday.

“It’s kind of… underwhelming?”

Walker ignores the voice to his right and keeps reading the printed plaque beneath the statue. Installed four weeks ago, reads the monotone font, the Rest of Infinity display serves as a reminder to all viewers of the eternity of space and its never-ending mystery. The 20-foot tall sculpture contains seventeen rotating pieces and thousands of tiny gears. The reflective paints were mixed by the artist herself, and the glass portions were blown by her as well. Walker is aching to reach for a sketchbook and draw it, but he promised himself that this time he would just look. So he does.

After a while, the same voice cuts in. “So maybe I’m starting to see why Cyrus can be such a science nerd sometimes…”

Walker looks over his shoulder at Amber Kippen, who is wearing a faux leather skirt and carrying a latte. They were in the same studio class—much to Walker’s chagrin at first, who had found Amber’s eclectic, relaxed approach to art to be flighty. But when Amber’s realism came out looking like a photographic negative, and when her paints were soft pastels that fit perfectly into her nature theme, then Walker decided to give up on judging before he knew things.

And now, lo and behold, Walker and Amber were visiting an art exhibition outside of school. Together. For fun.

“I really like the colors on the back few layers,” Walker says finally, and his voice sounds gravelly from lack of use. “And the way the black pieces spiral to infinity first, with the smaller pieces following behind.”

Amber nods, and Walker notes that she’s not really listening. “Do yo know who would love this?”

“Yeah?” Walker does know, because there’s only ever one right answer. But he holds off.

“Iris.”

Amber’s eyes get dreamy when she’s talking about Iris, her crush of many a year. Walker recognizes the look because it’s the look he used to see on Andi’s face when talking about Jonah. Buffy’s face when talking about Marty. The faces of people in love with someone else, not him.

“I’m sure she would, Her photography project is so cool, maybe she could take pictures of the statue—“

“I think I need to ask her to the dance,” Amber says suddenly. “It’s now or never, right? Senior year will be too late. It’s got to be now.” “What dance?”

Amber looks shocked, offended, horrified, embarrassed—everything on the list—that Walker is unaware of said dance. “Uh, Grant’s Valentine’s Day Dance. On account of the fact that Kip Warren and the dance team girls want prom to not be in someone’s basement this year. But Iris!”

Walker considers this, as they start to walk away from the statue and back toward Amber’s car. He listens to Amber’s list of reasons: “We texted all last night, and she ended with a heart, not me. We’ve held hands twice and been to four movies alone together. Her eyes are the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, and her bangs are so nice and her smile…”

In his head, Walker wants to make a comparison to something he’s feeling for another person. But he won’t let himself. Pretty eyes…hanging out alone together. His breath is catching, and Amber’s voice fades a little in the background. And that dance…

“Walker? Walker!” Startled out of a daydream, Walker feels Amber’s arm in front of his chest and suddenly sees the curb drop away in front of him. “Absent-minded much?”

“Call it an artist’s trait,” Walker says dizzily. He can’t stop thinking about the crush—shit, a crush—and it’s like the world is falling to pieces. It can’t be real, not over one movie and an air hockey game and a couple walks home from school. Maybe if he doesn’t think it, then it won’t be real.

“Walker.” Amber’s statement pulls him completely back to the surface, where he faces Amber’s scrutinizing gaze. “Are you going to ask anyone to the dance?”

Oh no. Walker opens his mouth to say something, and then doesn’t. They keep walking, but Amber’s eyes are staring him down with all the intensity she used to have as Grant’s resident mean girl. It’s the look she gets when she sees something she wants—or wants to know—and will do anything to get it.

“Um.”

“Um? Don’t give me that, Walker Brodsky. I spill my guts to you about Iris regularly. Now it’s your turn: who’s your crush?”

Walker blushes, reaching above his head to tug on a tree branch. “Amber, I—“

There’s a small voice in Walker’s head, and it’s trying to overcome the wave of anxiety he has about this situation. The voice is saying: Amber will understand.

Amber, who came out as lesbian when she was a freshman in high school. Amber, who goes to the LGBT alliance and activism meetings on a regular basis and cites it as her most important extracurricular, even more than dance or studio. Amber, who cries while listening to Heaven by Troye Sivan. Amber, who is staring at him right now with her Annabeth Chase-esque gray eyes and inquisitorial eyebrow raise. Amber, who has dated—

“Jonah.”

Amber doesn’t miss a beat, but Walker is already dizzy from the weight of the word.

“Jonah! Of all the people at school, you chose Mr. Heartbreak himself?”

“Um.”

Jonah is Mr. Heartbreak, isn’t he? Walker thinks of Andi, and the disaster that was the final six months of her and Jonah’s relationship. Jonah, who Andi always like more than him. Jonah Beck, who Walker first met at the art gallery, and then at the color factory, and then at canoeing. A couple months ago Walker ran into Jonah outside the skate shop, and they ended up making plans to see a movie in town they both wanted to see. Then, Walker started seeing Jonah more at school, and they were partners on a Bio assignment. The events keep spilling over themselves in his mind, and Walker feels two things: one, feelings. A crush. Like he had on Andi. The second thing is what has been washing over him for months and what kept him from telling Amber in the first place: he’s scared.

“Yeah,” Walker says, just to affirm it. “I like Jonah.” And there it is, again, the feeling in his chest of relief and anxiety all at once.

Amber nods as the rolling park ends and she clicks her key fob in the general direction of her station wagon. “Okay. Well, considering I’ve dated him, I’m probably authorized to give some advice—“

“No, Amber. He’s not even into guys; there’s no use thinking about it.” Walker slides into the passenger seat and takes out his phone from the glove box to start typing out notes about the statue.

“Walker, you never know. I mean, he’s never said that he does like boys, but he’s never said that he doesn’t—“

“That’s useless,” Walker says, keeping his eyes trained on his phone. “He’s straight, whatever. Let’s go home.” “Don’t play this card. You’re not the first person to fall for someone who you think is straight, and you won’t be the last, not by a long shot. Guess what? Jonah hasn’t said that he’s straight. So you have a chance. Don’t waste it.” Amber’s voice gets quiet at the end, as the grips the wheel of the still-parked car. Walker thinks of Iris, and he sees the pain of pining in Amber’s eyes.

“Hey,” he says softly. “You can’t give up either.”

She shakes her head. “Yeah, whatever.” She sounds just like Walker did moments ago, but Walker doesn’t push.

“So…do you still want to give me some advice on Jonah Beck?”

Amber starts to laugh, and she reaches across to give him a shove. “Of course, Walker Brodsky. Of course.”

————

“Heads up!”

Buffy runs in anyway and snags the rebound away from TJ. She brings the ball back to the top of the key, eyebrows poised in challenge, and checks the ball to him. Then she pounds it into the floor, slipping beside TJ to get in an easy layup.

“That’s 18 to 17,” Buffy pants as TJ sets it back up.

“Careful, Driscoll, don’t get too confident,” TJ warns, crossing the ball to take a shot from just inside the three-point line. The ball circles the rim, achingly close to the net, but rolls back out and sinks to the court.

“Missed me, missed me, now you got to—“ TJ interrupts Buffy’s taunt with a shove, and Buffy laughs as she grabs the ball and shoves it back into his hands.

“I will not,” TJ says, “allow you to complete that sentence.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Buffy laughs. “Don’t worry, I have no interest.”

“Good,” TJ asserts, and his next shot is nothing but net.

Three points later and Buffy has won the game, but they don’t keep score, shockingly. One-on-one has become a daily occurrence after their respective practices, because TJ has to wait for rehearsal to end to drive Cyrus home anyways. Cyrus tried to convince him that he could just go home on the late bus, but TJ has insisted.

“Ready for next Friday?” Buffy asks, once they’re done playing and are just dribbling around.

“I hope,” TJ says, chucking the ball up with zero regard. Buffy catches it and looks over at him.

“You better be ready for Valentine’s Day. I know Cyrus is excited.”

TJ does a double take, and Buffy laughs like she’s caught him unaware. “Well, yeah I’m ready for Valentine’s Day. Or I will be. But the game—“ “Screw the game,” Buffy says, and drives the basketball into the ground. “I mean—sorry. Screw my game, not yours.”

“What’s up? How’s the team doing?” TJ holds his hands out, and she throws it at him. He’s always tried to be somewhat lenient towards Buffy in her captaining, because he knows it must be hard carrying the girls basketball program on her shoulders. When they came to Grant, Buffy had to leave behind her newly-founded middle school team for a program that’s only improvement on Jefferson’s was the fact that it was school-mandated. The past few years Buffy has been constantly trying to mend a rivalry with Kira while simultaneously attempting to take the team to the next level.

“We’re doing alright. But we’ll be playing teams in the region tournament that have AAU girls and are state-ranked. I don’t want to get eliminated in the first round, but that looks like what we’ll be getting. And I’m trying to deal with Kira, but I really can’t—“ Buffy stops.

TJ shakes his head. “You can’t be so hard on yourself, Buffy. Regionals is a hard tournament, and it’s okay if you guys—“

“No! It’s not,” Buffy shouts, and her eyes flash. TJ steps back, because this is starting to feel too much like middle school. “I have to do well, and you don’t get to talk to me like that. Why don’t you talk to me like you would a teammate—“ Buffy stops.

TJ knows some people think Buffy can be harsh, but she’s harder on herself than she is on anyone else. The thing about being friends with her is never knowing exactly how to handle it. If Cyrus were here, he would know, but Cyrus is onstage pretending to be Lysander from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

“If you were my teammate, I would tell you to stop worrying and play the game. It goes how it goes. And I’d tell you to get along with Kira. You have to,” TJ says.

“Yeah,” Buffy breathes. “Sorry. Now pass me the ball.”

TJ obliges, and she dribbles in for a layup. He doesn’t know if he handled it right; but, he did something. Which is better than nothing. Now back to the matter at hand.

“So, Driscoll,” he calls. “What else has Cyrus said about Valentine’s Day?”

“That’s not for me to tell,” Buffy shrugs, starting to smile. “But I hope you’re taking him to the dance.”

“Uh, what kind of boyfriend do you think I am? Of course we’re going.”

“Alright, good,” Buffy says, taking a jump shot.

“And,” TJ says, excitedly, “It’ll actually be fun. We’ve got the games, which everyone is coming to, and then the dance in the gym. Cyrus is coming over after, and we’re going to bake cookies and watch a movie—“ “Okayyy, I do not need to hear about your big date,” Buffy cuts in. TJ bites the insides of his cheeks so she won’t blush, because he had been planning a sort of date with Cyrus. But Buffy doesn’t need to know that. “But you’re right, it’ll be sweet. If your idea of romance is dancing in a sweaty gym in the dark.” TJ, who had been jogging back from the ball rack where he put away the basketball, stops to put his hands on his hips. “While you may be a cynical human being, Cyrus is a romantic—“

“So are you, TJ Kippen, don’t even try.”

“I refuse to acknowledge that statement. Buffy, you must come to the dance. It’s a part of the high school experience: the big game and then the sweaty prom.”

“Sweaty prom.”

“Sweaty prom!” TJ yells and does a spin around the gym. It’s exhilarating, he thinks, to have caring friends and a team he love to be on and a boyfriend who likes him back and has for over a year. And speaking of said boyfriend—

Cyrus enters the gym, and they both hear his hard-soled theater shoes from across the room.

“Cyrus!” Buffy shouts, and runs over to him. TJ follows. “Save me from TJ, he’s trying to force me to go to… wait for it… the dance!”

Cyrus snorts, and swings his drawstring bag over his shoulder. “TJ, are these accusations trustworthy?”

“Very,” TJ says, pulling in Cyrus under his arm.

“In that case, I support them. Buffy, we need you to go the dance! Who else will ridicule their music choices and teach Gus how to do the cha cha slide?” “First of all, the instructions are in the song. Second of all—“ Buffy’s phone dings from inside her pocket, and she stops immediately to check it. TJ raises his eyebrows at her as she frowns at the tiny screen, then stops frowning and smiles a tiny bit. TJ runs through in his mind who it could’ve been—not Marty, who Buffy parted with freshman year. He shrugs it off—a mystery for another time.

“Got to go,” Buffy says, and rushes off to the locker room.

“Buffy,” Cyrus calls, then shakes his head. “She’s been weird lately. I’m not sure what’s up.”

TJ nods absentmindedly, then turns to Cyrus. “How was rehearsal?”

Cyrus’s eyes go wide. “Some freshman dropped a set piece on Amber and she broke her pinky!”

“WHAT.” TJ feels his voice get quiet.

“Yeah, it’s okay though, it’ll be healed in two weeks. Show isn’t for another month. She said it feels fine.” “Fucking—sorry, fricking—freshman. Idiots, all of them,” TJ says, pulling Cyrus by the hand over to the bleachers so he can grab his bag.

“Can’t argue with that,” Cyrus shrugs, and they start to head to TJ’s car. “Oh, and Amber told me to tell you she’s staying out late tonight, so don’t wait up for her.”

“She’s going out with a broken pinky?”

“She’s got a tiny cast; she’ll be alright.” TJ squints, unconvinced. “Anyways, how was your practice?”

TJ pulls Cyrus against his side. “The usual, you know. You’re bringing the whole gang out to the games on the 14th, right?”

He nods and wraps his arm around TJ’s waist. “I can’t wait.” Then he does that Cyrus-smile: with his lips upturned to his cheeks, and his eyes intense. “It’s Valentine’s Day too, you know,” he says sweetly.

“Oh, trust me,” TJ says. He puts both his arms on Cyrus’s shoulders and pulls him into a kiss. “I know.” Cyrus blushes when he pulls away, and TJ spins him towards the car.

“Movie tonight?” Cyrus asks. TJ bites his lip, then shakes his head.

“I wish. I’ve got precalc homework which is going to take me approximately four hours,” TJ says, slipping into the drivers’ seat. “Ms. Walters is evil, I swear.”

“I’ll be sending good luck in your direction,” Cyrus says as he buckles his seatbelt. TJ drives to Cyrus’s house, and on the way they listen to Billie Eilish and discuss the day’s events, their feelings towards pineapples, and Degrassi, their show. By the time TJ pulls into Cyrus’s driveway, it’s gotten dark and Cyrus’s eyelids are slipping closed. TJ smiles over at him and bops his nose with his index finger. Cyrus blinks awake, focuses on the house, and smiles a sleepy smile. Struck, as he is daily, by how cute Cyrus is, TJ leans across the seat and kisses him. Cyrus takes TJ’s hand, squeezes it, and tumbles out the door with his bags.

“See you tomorrow, underdog!” Cyrus turns to wave back at him, and TJ can still see the soft smile on his face.

As he drives away, TJ stops at the intersection that breaks off back to the Kippen house, and he takes a left instead of a right. He thinks about Cyrus’s excitement over Valentine’s Day and the dance as he pulls into the Target parking lot. Cyrus Goodman, he thinks, his own smile filling his features, you deserve the world.

#andi mack #am gift exchange #friendom gift exchange #valentines exchange #wonah #bandi #tyrus #writing #fanfic

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anastasiaskarsgard · 6 years ago

Text

X marks the spot !!!!

Part 8- Brooke POV

End of summer

Smut, cussing, drugs, drama, errors, mention of abuse, bullying, etc

I really did have to pee.

I made a beeline for the bathroom and locked the door behind me. Wtf did Lily want to talk about? Mark didn’t want her!

Suddenly I remembered Marks’ seemingly innocent question (at the time) about fighting a girl for him.

Jesus.

Having a hot ass boyfriend had its downsides. I checked myself over in the mirror, and tied my hair back in a bun, just in case it popped off with this Lily girl. Might as well apply some mascara and lipstick too. I only was wearing a bathing suit, but not much I could do about that now.

I walked out of the bathroom to find Bex and Lily having a heated, yet quiet discussion. Lily had a phone out, while Bex was trying to make her put it away. Bex didn’t want me to see it. Lily did. I was a little curious, but before I could say anything Mark stormed in the room.

“What the fuck is this?” Mark yelled at nobody in particular.

All three of us froze and looked at Mark. With it being quiet now, I could hear the audio playing on the phone. It almost sounded like Mark’s voice.... Ok, now I was real fucking curious.

Lily and my eyes met, and I couldn’t help but notice just how utterly desperate and sad she looked. I felt a pang of pity for her. It must have been hard losing Mark. I wonder what happened between them.

Shit, what had Bex said?

Bex grabbed Lily’s hand and pulled her past Mark. If looks could kill, then Lily would have been struck dead by the nastiest glare, I’d ever seen Mark produce. He looked positively livid. This was that Mark I hadn’t recognized from earlier. I hope I never was on the receiving end of one of these looks...

“I’ll take Lily downstairs, and you guys probably wanna talk. Don’t fuck in my bed or break anything.” Bex said with a warning tone and closed the door.

Mark looked pissed. He wasn’t moving, but his gaze followed me as I walked to the bathroom. I wasn’t sure what to say.

On the one hand, he’d resisted his ex for me. But on the other hand, what was that video, and why was she trying to show me? Would I be betraying my fellow females if I just let it go? Why did Bex want to keep it from me?

I didn’t know what to do, so I got my make up out and started to touch it up. Any girl will tell you, a lot of decisions are made, touching up their make up.

“Baby? Why were you hanging out with her?” Mark walked in the bathroom and held me around my waist and rested his head on my shoulder, carefully watching my reaction to his question.

“She followed me up, and I just literally came out of the bathroom when you showed up. She wanted to show me something on her phone, but Bex wouldn’t allow it. No big deal.” I shrugged.

His face fell, and he looked like he was about to cry. The desperation in his eyes and utter panic broke my heart. Whatever was in that video was, it had him freaked out.

“Did you guys make a porno or something?” I teased flicking my eyes up to his, to gauge his reaction now.

“Brooke, I am so sorry, I was young, and it seemed cool at the time but ...

My stomach flipped, and I DID NOT want to hear this, so I turned around and kissed him to shut him up. “I love you,” I said without pulling our lips apart.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” Mark kept saying over and over as he kissed me all over my face. I giggled, and he looked me straight in the eyes and it took my breath away. He is so beautiful. “You’re mine. I never want to lose you. I only want you ever.” He looked so sincere.

He picked me up and sat me on the bathroom vanity untying my swim bottoms and moving my bathing suit top triangles over, so my breasts were completely exposed. He was so gentle and careful, licking each nipple while looking up at me.

He stood up and gently held my face in both hands and kissed me passionately, letting out a sexy little groan before stepping back and looking at me. “I love you so much. It makes me almost crazy. I never felt this way for anyone. I almost had a fucking meltdown when I saw you with her. Promise me you won’t be friends with her or any of her fucking friends. Promise.”

“Mark.... you're ridiculous.” I giggled trying to pull him back in, but he wouldn’t budge.

He glared at me and in a low almost threatening tone he said through gritted teeth, “promise. Me. Now.”

“Ooooh or what?” I teased with a big shitty smile on my face.

Before I could even react, he grabbed me by my arm and dragged me over to the bed, roughly slinging me down, as he got on top of me. No smily or playful Mark. I wasn’t scared, because I believed in my heart he’d never hurt me, but I was alarmed with this behavior.

“Bex said not to fuck on her bed,” I said in an effort to lighten the mood, and maybe change the subject.

“You think that’s what I wanna do? Fuck you? Why? Cuz you’re a fucking whore? You’re like your new fucking whore besties?” He seethed.

“Mark, why are you acting this way? When did I become a whore?” I’d never been so confused in my life. Where on earth was this coming from all of a sudden?

“I don’t know! That’s a good fucking question!!! I thought you were my sweet, perfect, baby girl, ride or die!!! I thought that you wanted to make me happy, and never would lie to me, or cheat on me, but now I bring you to one fucking party, and you are getting buddy-buddy with my fucking ex! WHY DONT YOU MAKE A FUCKING VIDEO GRINDING ON THOSE BITCHES? WHILE MAKING OUT IN BATHING SUITS? YOU MIGHT GET A FEW HUNDRED LIKES! Hashtag FUCKING SLUTS!” Mark screamed in my face at the end there.

I couldn’t help it, I was trying to hold back tears and catch my breath, but the more he went on, it just got worse, and I burst out crying.

Mark immediately went from menacing glare, to concerned puppy dog eyes. “Oh, my god baby! Baby! Look at me, don’t cry. I love you. I’m sorry. I’m drunk.”

I couldn’t look at him. I don’t know why I was straight up hysterically crying, choking and heaving, but I was, and I wasn’t going to look at him.

He got off of me and paced back and forth, grabbing his head. After a few minutes. I looked over at him, and he was coming towards me with tissues.

He took some out, and picked me up like a baby and sat on the bed, cradling me in his arms. This was my Mark. He looked so loving and caring and He was so pretty.

I bet I looked terrible and crazy. I couldn’t remember why I even got so upset. I hated fighting with him. I couldn’t think straight.

All I knew is, I needed Mark to want me still. Looking back, this probably was a huge red flag, and I should of got my shit and left. But I was an idiot over him. “Mark?” My voice was all raspy from my crying fit.

He looked in my eyes, and I could feel the panic returning as a lump rose in my throat... “What is it, beautiful girl?”

I started to shake with sobs again, but he brought our faces together, and he kissed me hungrily, boogers, tears and all.

He stood up still kissing me and carried me back in the bathroom, setting me back on the counter.

“I’m so sorry, Brooke, I’m so sorry.” He peppered kisses all over my face.

He stepped back and looked me over as I tried to hide my face. He took my chin and moved my face up, looking in my eyes adoringly. “you are the most beautiful fucking bitch on the motherfucking planet, and you’re all mine. I’m sorry I acted like a dick. You gotta listen, I love you so much, I go crazy.”

He began kissing me again, moving down my chest. He started to suck on one breast while he toyed with the other with his hand. Biting and licking my nipple, and then blowing on it, so it was at attention. Then he switched Breasts and took that hand and put it into my core. I was so turned on his fingers slipped in easily. He let out his sexy Mark growl, and I reached for his cock. I was shocked how I could go from hysterical basket-case, to bitch in heat in no time flat, But I wanted him so bad.

“Ah, ah. Not yet. I want to taste my perfect little pussy first.”

He spread my legs and got on his knees and went to work, all while his gorgeous green eyes peered up at me. He added his hand to the equation and I was now on the brink.

“ you going to come for me baby?”

I nodded quickly grabbing his hair and pushing his face back into my pussy. I was so close, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I grabbed him by his hairagain, and pulled him up, crushing his mouth with a kiss as he freed himself, and shoved himself deep inside me.

“Oh my god baby. I love this pussy, is it my pussy?” He whimpered in my ear as he slammed into me. So desperate and eager. I’d never felt so wanted in my life as I did right then.

He pulled his face back, so he could fully see me, while still thrusting at a feverish pace. He grabbed my face gently and looked deep in my eyes. Searching my eyes, for something, he suddenly grabbed my bun, forcing my head back, so I was looking straight up.

Biting my collarbone, his thrusts were becoming very erratic, and I knew he was close. I knew just what to say, to push him over the edge;

“I’m yours.”

“I want to put a baby in you,” Mark said.

“Wait. What?” I asked, eyes big as dinner plates, snapping my head back down to meet his eyes.

“I want you to have my baby.”

I couldn’t believe what he was saying, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was so hot. He didn’t mean it, and was just caught up in the moment, so I just played along.

“You wanna be a Daddy for real? Put a baby inside me, so we are yours forever? Then Cum inside me, Mark.” I said breathlessly.

His mouth fell open, and he bit my swollen lower lip. I grabbed the back of his head and sloppily made out with him as He convulsed and stuttered his load deep inside me. He let out a loud “fuck” and twitched to a stop, letting out a big exhale.

He pressed his forehead to mine, smiling. “Let’s just stay like this forever.” He whispered.

“Bex might get mad.”

“Nah, she’s cool, and we’re sexy. Who wouldn’t want to see us every time they go to the bathroom?”

I giggled and pushed him back, sliding him out of me, and hopped off the counter. He walked over to the shower and turned it on. I felt his cum dripping down my leg, so I hopped in and rinsed off. I turned around to find him staring intensely at me.

“I meant everything I said.” He said kissing my forehead.

I didn’t think he’d bring it up, so I didn’t know what to say. Not really able to process what he was saying in my intoxicated state, I went with my auto-response of “oh baby.”

He looked down at me Green eyes flashing, and his swollen lips parted just a little bit. His hair was falling into his face, and he seemed so vulnerable and pure.

He needed me to protect him. Fuck Lily. My beautiful baby was different, and no one was going to make me love him less.

Oh boy, I really do love him.

“Why do you want a kid so bad?”I asked curiously.

“I don’t want a kid as much as I just want to own you. Let everyone know I fucked you, and I’m the only one that gets to, and here’s my proof.”

“That’s got to be the least romantic answer, I’ve ever heard.”

“Plus imagine how fucking cute they’d be. Get off the birth control and let’s try.”

“Mark! You’re tripping. We are too young and I’m not going anywhere.” I wrapped my arms around him and snuggled into his chest.

After getting no response, I looked up into Marks eyes and was perplexed by his expression. He had the most expressive eyes but sometimes they were impossible to read. This was one of those times. “Look how beautiful my boyfriend is.” I said with a big cheesy smile.

He cracked a half hearted smile. “I love you so much Brooke. I don’t know how to handle it. I’m obsessed with you.” He rubbed his nose against mine.

Time to lay it on thick. I was taking advantage of this moment! This was the type of stuff you read about, or saw in movies, but right here, right now, I was living it. “Mark I love you. You couldn’t get rid of me, if you tried.”

He smiled warmly down at me. “I love you more princess.” He embraced me rocking back and forth for a few moments and I just looked in the mirror at us, and then at my face. Boy did I look rough. I needed like a whole new face of make up, and all I had was mascara and lip gloss. Maybe Bex would let me—

“Baby, What are you thinking about?” He interrupted my thoughts.

Shit. Better not say eyeshadow.

. “Just how lucky I am to have a boyfriend that’s as madly in love with me as I am him.” Okay, so maybe that was bullshit, but it was true. Before Mark, I didn’t believe I could feel so strongly for someone, and they would feel the same.

He released me and turned off the water before handing me a towel and getting out. He dried off quickly and got dressed while I was still drying my hair. He grabbed my bathing suit bottoms and tied them back on me, double knotting each side. He grabbed a brush and started to brush my hair.

“I feel like one of those monkeys on the Discovery Channel. How are you at eyeliner?”

“I love making MY baby the prettiest girl in all of America... maybe even the world.” He did a cheesy Dr. Evil laugh, and then we both just started laughing like idiots. The more I tried to stop, the worse the laughing fit became.

Finally able to breathe again, he took my hand and lead me downstairs. If I hadn’t been so crazy in love, I might have noticed the infuriated glare from the petite blonde on the couch. Or maybe I’d have caught Bex’s worried face, as she looked between Bex and us. But I didn’t catch any of that.

All I could see, was Mark.

#bill istvan günther skarsgård #bill skarsgard #fanfic #mark #assassination nation #bad boy #bad idea #mark assassination nation #xmarksthespot2k19 #fan fiction #my writing

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harryandmolly · 5 years ago

Text

Complicit // 10

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW, turning up the heat on this slow burn

WC: 6.2k

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

Shawn’s right up against the mic, eyes closed, curls rustling against his forehead in the breeze. His eyes are closed, he’s strumming gently through the bridge of “Fallin’ All In You,” and he’s so lost in it at first he doesn’t notice the way the crowd suddenly starts shifting from cooing along with him to screaming. He opens his eyes, looks back and forth across them, then turns his head.

She’s in a long floaty Florence Welch-style dress and platforms, her butter-blonde hair sweeping behind her like she’s in a shampoo commercial. She lifts the mic in her hand and starts singing along with him. Behind her are Shawn’s teammates, carrying a big heavy cake designed like the Canadian flag and covered in fondant.

Shawn gives up on singing. He laughs, claps with the guitar pick still between his fingers and steps away from the mic. Bex keeps singing until the song is over and he plays out the last few notes.

She swings her arms around his neck. She leans in. As he smiles, their lips touch.

Penny slams the laptop shut and backs away quickly, nearly tripping over Pammy. Her heart sprints, rattles hard in her chest like it wants out of her body. She doesn’t blame it.

Pamela stands alert, seemingly aware that Penny is distressed. Penny gulps down big breaths of air and continues striding backwards away from the laptop in her breakfast nook until she’s up against the fridge. She blinks. The cold stainless steel door is stabilizing and soothing. She lifts a hand to her forehead and shakes her head.

She didn’t even see the kiss, not really. She didn’t let it get that far. Something in her snapped, snapped hard. She folds her hands over her nose and mouth and focuses on breathing.

She can’t think about this. She can’t let herself. She has to do something else, anything else.

She looks down at Pammy, whose tail thumps against the rug.

“Go for a run?” Penny croaks, her voice high and unrecognizable, hopeful like she’s worried her dog will refuse her. Pammy’s little feet bounce against the rug as she reacts to her favorite word. Her tail thumps harder.

In a daze, Penny throws on leggings and a sports bra, a cap and sneakers. She leashes Pamela, locks the house and fucking runs.

Penny leans back with a deep sigh and opens her mouth again. A plump, cool grape slips inside, contrasting with the warm, rough texture of the fingers that are holding it. She gives them an appreciative suck and feels the chest she’s resting against rumble with a low hum.

“Hope I helped,” his quiet voice says.

Of course he knew there was something the matter. He sees through everyone.

She chews and swallows before answering. “You did. You know you always do.”

She feels him smile and brush his nose against her hairline. He offers her another grape. She accepts it gratefully.

“Can I have you out to visit soon? I know how much you love London.”

His warm English brogue is only casually hopeful, not like the way Shawn invited her to Toronto -- he sounded like if she refused him he’d spend the rest of the day sulking under the covers. She blinks hard at the memory.

She regards him, sweeps some hair out of his eyes. “I’d like that.”

He seems satisfied. For the first time with this particular client, satisfying him seems to do very little for her. She had hoped for the opposite. His trip out to visit her was one she had been excited for -- three full days wrapped up in him in the hotel he likes in Malibu, the first she’s seen of him in a few months. It was tainted by turning down the other offer, the one she knows she should’ve refused even if she weren’t busy. This extended date just saved her from having to make the decision.

She knows he can probably feel that she’s not all there. She’s so grateful that he hasn’t complained. He goes to plop another grape in her mouth and she stops him, aiming around his mouth to kiss a feverish line out toward his ear. After all this time, she’s still never kissed him on the lips. She jokes with him that he’s seen Pretty Woman too many times. But a client’s wish is a client’s wish, so she obeys. And so does he.

He moans her name. She pushes him back into the pillows. She loves his voice, but she doesn’t want to hear it right now. So she shuts him up.

London. London. London.

When Shawn called to invite her to Toronto, he was too jarred by her refusal to mention that he was heading to London next. Now he finds himself sitting here at the baby grand in the living room of the house they like to let in Bloomsbury when he’s in town wondering who the hell her client in from London is.

London. London. London.

Summer rain plinks softly in rivulets down the window before him, slightly obscuring the quiet street. He peers through, past a copse of silver birches, and finds himself glaring for a few seconds at the guy in tight jeans and a smart jumper wisely carrying an umbrella down the sidewalk. He looks like he could be one of Penny’s clients.

And what if he is? Shawn sighs heavily, finding himself winding through the same territory he tread when he first saw her with Christian Becker at the Summer Lovin’ party. It’s exhausting when he thinks about it, the loops he’s run through in his mind for her. Frustrating, too, when he realizes how often he’s revisited the same thoughts and conclusions along the way. Insanity is doing something over and over and expecting a different outcome. So maybe he’s going a little insane.

It’s hard to reconcile with the rest of his life right now. He’s coming toward the end of a wildly successful festival tour. Unlike his last international run like this, he’s not working so hard to win over the crowd -- they’re largely there for him. And tomorrow, when he co-headlines BBC’s Biggest Weekend at Wembley Arena, that stadium will be packed with people screaming his words back to him. When he thinks about it, his fucking head swims.

Shawn fiddles with a loose thread on the leg of his Calvins and rubs at where the tag of his t-shirt scratches his neck. He’s feeling twitchy and scattered. When he gets like this, there’s one surefire way to even him out.

He starts poking at the ivories, his fingers falling into the familiar rhythm of “I Wanna Dance With Somebody,” one of his festival cover mainstays. It’s not enough to distract his mind. He needs a new challenge.

He lifts his phone and props it up, scrolling through sheet music ideas on the tiny screen. He finds the one he didn’t know he was looking for and grunts, shifting in his seat, setting himself up to try it out.

The first few times he plays it through are clumsy. The next few times are a little better, firmer, more confident. By his tenth full run, he decides to sing along and see how it sounds.

“Regrets, I’ve had a few

But then again, too few to mention

I did what I had to do

And saw it through without exemption”

Shawn’s fingers work quickly to keep up. His bare feet skim and press at the pedals below him. His shoulders feel tensed and ready to snap.

“Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew

When I bit off more than I could chew

But through it all, when there was doubt

I ate it up and spit it out

I faced it all and I stood tall

And did it my way”

His voice is growing hoarse and he’s trying to pretend it’s not because of the tears in his eyes. He pushes through it, singing louder like Frank does, belting through a vocal run toward the end even though it hurts.

“For what is a man, what has he got

If not himself, then he has naught

To say the things he truly feels

And not the words of one who kneels

The record shows I took the blows

And did it my way”

There’s no point in trying to pretend he’s not crying anymore. He doesn’t bother with swiping at the tears, and his hands are busy anyway.

“Yes, it was my way.”

Shawn sags. His fingers fumble off the keys and catch him before his forehead hits the top of the piano. Through his wrenching sobs, Shawn decides it sounded good. It’s good enough to play live. But he’s already lying to everyone, he doesn’t want to pile on.

Because all of this he’s accomplished lately, all the crowds and the shows and tabloids and the followers and the paparazzi photos…

… it’s not his way at all.

Penny props her head up on the edge of the sofa as she sits below it on the rug with Pammy beside her. She goes to reach for a pillow to support her neck until Peter shifts and pushes his leg up for her to rest against. She grins and pats at him.

Penny picked him up from the CalTech campus in the Aston Martin. Peter’s squeals were so loud she pretended to start to drive off when he reached for the passenger door.

He ducked his big, beautiful head in and gave her a toothy smile.

“Can I drive?”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

They turned their music on loud and talked even louder over it. They stopped and bought a lemon meringue pie from House of Pies, got stoned and ate Penny’s homemade spaghetti alle vongole on the deck.

The only thing Peter and Penny don’t talk through is Moonstruck. It’s their mom’s favorite movie and one of the precious few things they took from their parents that’s associated with exclusively positive memories. They watch it whenever they’re together.

Tonight, all the blinds are open in Penny’s window-filled living room. The moon is near full. Every few minutes, Peter looks up from the TV and chants “la luna! La bella luna!” Penny refills their wine classes with imported chianti to keep this up.

With her head against her brother’s thigh and a belly full of pasta and clams, Penny hangs on to every perfect second. Peter is in town for a CalTech event and she has to return him back to campus in Pasadena tomorrow morning. Their time is shorter than usual and Penny can feel it around them. There’s a sort of desperate energy, a need to be very close to make up for their truncated visit. They haven’t left each other’s sides all afternoon.

Peter plucks at a clump of Penny’s shower wet hair and traces it against his calf. He’s trying not to count the seconds until he has to leave her again. He knows some of it is the wine talking, but he loves her so goddamn much. She’s given him everything he’s ever wanted, made sure he had everything he needed, but he’s pretty sure if she didn’t, he’d still be ok because he has her.

But he wants more for her. He always has. She would very happily give up her entire life for him if she thought he needed her to, so Peter keeps himself busy by trying to make sure she has one worth having.

He bites his full lower lip and pauses. Before Penny can bark at him to turn it back on because it’s the part outside the Met where Nicholas Cage sees Cher all dressed up before the opera, Peter’s look silences her.

“Can I see the necklace?”

Penny blinks rapidly, startled. “Oh. Uhm, it’s in the safe.”

Peter stares at her, undeterred. Penny sighs heavily and pretends to struggle to stand. Peter leaps off the couch and yanks at her hands.

“Oh my god, if you’re gonna get weird about it, you’re not allowed to see it.”

Peter makes a face and crosses his arms. “Fine. I’m cool. I’m Lizzo at the VMAs.”

Penny purses her lips and leads him to the safe. She inputs the combination and listens as the stiff bolts pop open. The red box is front and center. She hands it to Peter like it’s an old Domino’s pizza rather than her most prized possession.

Peter turns and carries it out of the room on scurrying tiptoes before she can stop him.

Penny huffs and slams the safe, scampering after him. “Pete, what are you--”

“I want to see it in the moonlight!” Peter laughs, running into Penny’s bedroom with an evil glint in his eye. Penny marches after him.

“You want to try it on?” Penny snorts, watching Peter stand in front of the mirror to study the contents of the box.

He whirls around on a heel. “No. I want you to try it on.”

Penny’s shoulders drop. She sighs. She motions for the box. Instead, Peter shuffles her in front of the full-length mirror, the one where Penny saw herself try it on for the first time. She lifts her hair over her shoulder and Peter secures the fiddly clasp against the nape of her neck.

He steps back and beams.

“Well, don’t you look like a million fuckin’ bucks.”

Penny smirks. “Not a million. Several thousand, though.”

Peter props his chin up on Penny’s head and shrugs his arms around her, careful not to obscure the necklace. “Nah. Way more than a million. You’re priceless. I think he and I both know that.”

Peter knocks a raspberry kiss up against the side of her head. She squirms away. Peter wanders back to the living room. Penny follows after a few more seconds of admiring her reflection. She’s still wearing the necklace.

Silver accepts few excuses for tardiness and even fewer for poor attention span and the generally green tint to Penny’s hungover skin. On that short list of forgivable events is a visit from Peter. Silver would forgive murder for Peter.

Penny slumps into the crisp white wicker rocking chair on Silver’s back deck, her DVF kaftan fluttering out around her ankles. Silver pours her tea silently, attempting to reserve judgment.

“How is Peter?”

Penny smiles. “He’s good. He likes the boy he’s dating. Which I know sounds like a given but it’s not for Peter. I think he might be a keeper, at least for a while. And school is good, he’s… you know him, he’s a rockstar.”

Silver enjoys the lightness that surrounds Penny when she talks about her brother. He’s never a sore subject. They’re thick as thieves, the product of a less than ideal childhood bonding two souls irrevocably.

“Will he be coming to stay for a longer visit?”

Penny covers a grin with her delicate teacup. “You miss him.”

“I do,” Silver admits readily with a small smile, about as warm as she really gets, “He’s the only person I’ve ever met who’s totally comfortable with calling me “bitch.””

Penny’s laugh is striking. Silver adores it. She doesn’t hear it often enough. The last time she heard Penny laugh like this was at that 4th of July party on her date with Shawn.

“I wanted to follow up with you regarding the meeting last week. We’ve hit a small roadblock regarding the creation of the 501(c)(3) in a way that keeps it very much out of the way of the less legitimate arm of the business.”

Silver’s voice is carefully apologetic. Penny cocks her head and feels her messy hair spill out over her shoulder.

“Oh. Well, that’s ok. I don’t mind the delay.”

Silver’s knifelike brows lift. She places her teacup down on its saucer without a sound. “You don’t?”

Penny lifts a bare shoulder. “I want to make sure we’re careful with it, of course. And… I mean, it’s not like I’m going to be without income any time soon.”

Silver catches an edge in Penny’s words she’s not sure if Penny realizes is there. She wets her crimson painted lips.

“I see. I suppose when you brought me the proposal, I wasn’t sure. It seemed perhaps that you were leaning toward the way of giving up clients.”

Penny straightens up and reaches for a biscuit. Its snap does nothing to release the tension between them. She dunks it in her tea the way Silver hates.

“Well, I’m not. No reason to. I’m the perfect age, in excellent physical shape and have had more client requests than any of the women on the roster. It would be insane not to capitalize on that.”

Silver’s eyes fall to Penny’s twitching hands in her lap. She looks… disappointed. Not in the way her mother gets, like Penny’s errors in judgment are just the latest in a long line of her annoyances. This disappointment is more profound, more hurt, more like real hope lost. Penny’s breathing gets a little short in her chest.

“I understand,” Silver continues smoothly, “Even so, we’ll push ahead with the foundation. I will continue to keep you updated about its progress and consult you on any crucial matters.”

Silver’s usual formality has kicked up a notch. Penny tries not to notice the chill in the searing Southern California summer heat.

Two weeks later

Labor Day Weekend comes and goes. Penny spends it topless on a yacht off Catalina Island with Julia. She has no phone signal, it was jammed on the yacht per Julia’s orders. When she returns, she has a voicemail on her work cell. She waits until Gus, sunburnt and covered in bugbites from his weekend camping trip, drops her off at her door.

He doesn’t question why she’s standing outside with Pammy, whom he also dropped off after babysitting her for the weekend, instead of going in out of the damp heat.

But she can’t wait another second to hear his voice talking to her rather than in the highly personal songs he sings that the whole world can access so impersonally.

“Hey, it’s me… Shawn. Uh, I know it’s been weird. I’m just… saying that out loud because neither of us have yet. I’d like to see you, if you want. If you’re busy, that’s ok. I’m back from London on Tuesday. I don’t have a lot of time before I have to leave again. Um… yeah, so if you want to call or text me, that’s cool. I’ll see you soon. Hopefully. Ok bye.”

She stands on the porch for so long Pamela curls up at her feet and naps. Penny plays the voicemail over and over, thinking each repetition will get her closer to deciding what the fuck to do.

Penny’s never been good at giving up, she realizes as she hugs the winding curves of the road through Beachwood Canyon that will take her back to Shawn’s house. When she broke her leg falling off the uneven bars during gymnastics in 4th grade, she conned her doctors into letting her out of her cast early so she didn’t miss the big fall meet. When her snotty 10th grade chemistry teacher tried to give her an F on a test without possibility of extra credit, she hounded her until she got the chance to make up the grade.

So, really, Penny figures, it’s not that surprising that she won’t give up on Shawn. That despite all the confusing gestures and glances and words and unspoken feelings, she still wants to stick around and help. The idea of walking away now just to save her pride or her dignity or wallow in this stupid little crush she’s formed doesn’t make sense. She wants to see it through. She wants to see him happy. She knows she can still help. She just has to focus. On him.

Shawn’s smile is hesitant at best, a grimace at worst. Penny’s not surprised. She wonders what logic he used to convince himself to call her again after the odd heaviness of their last couple encounters. He doesn’t have the built-in excuse she does -- this is her job.

He guides her to the living room instead of straight on to the bedroom. Penny looks around. It’s big and sparsely decorated, like he’s still moving in and finding pieces that work in the space. She smiles down at the coffee table his mum spent a full day helping him pick. He told her that story a couple weeks ago before she rode him backwards cowgirl-style for the first time.

She looks him over. He doesn’t look too worse for wear, maybe a little anxious, but she thinks that’s more about her than anything else. She likes that he’s barefoot. She can’t trust a man who wears shoes in his own house. Self-consciously, she steps out of her own, a pair of Chloe block heels. She shrinks several inches and rocks back and forth from heel to painted shell pink toes.

“How was Toronto? And London?”

Penny’s tipping her hand. He didn’t tell her he was going to London after Toronto. She’s been paying attention. Goosebumps flare across the back of his neck. He wills them away.

“Uh, good. Really good. I love playing in Toronto, obviously. And London was insane. That crowd was massive.”

Penny smiles knowingly. “You’re quite the draw, Mendes.”

He shrugs a shoulder but smirks a little. “It’s just this summer, man. Everything’s suddenly gotten really crazy. It’s… different.”

Penny decides it’s no time to bring up Bex and the success of his team’s PR strategy. He knows. He doesn’t need her poking it in his face.

She decides to sit and make herself comfortable, thinking maybe he’ll follow. She folds her legs and straightens the hem of her gauzy yellow chiffon wrap dress. She catches the way his eyes trail her smooth bronzed skin.

Good, she thinks, Focus on my body.

“How was your--”

Shawn stops and blinks hard, his face going blank. Penny knows he was about to ask after her London client and thought better of it.

“My brother came to visit,” she blurts, and she can’t see but she thinks she’s making the same face he was a moment ago.

Penny’s not sure how she went from totally stable and focusing on sweet talking him into bed to bringing up her brother, potentially the most personal subject in her world. Her lack of self-control around him can be… maddening.

“Peter, right?” Shawn presses.

Penny nods. Shawn sits beside her on the couch, turned toward her. She wonders if she can get away with dropping this subject now. By the look of interest on his face, she thinks no, probably not.

“You’re really close with him.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement from a man who knows it when he sees it.

“We’re close. Maybe not as close as I’d like.”

Shut… up…

It’s like her mouth is a fucking faucet around him sometimes. She blames the bold warmth of his eyes that follows her so closely.

“Yeah?” he nudges.

Penny thumbs at her Cartier ring, watching it glint. “I shouldn’t complain. I know he’s so busy. And he’s got a life, you know? He’s in college. Sometimes I just wish I always felt like his sister and didn’t sometimes feel like his mom.”

Shawn peers at her curiously. She curls her legs up beneath her, propping her elbow up on the back of the couch as she faces him completely.

“I know you said you’re not close with your parents.”

She smiles sadly. “There’s no traumatic tale there. My parents never should’ve gotten married, but they were supposed to, so they did. They never should’ve had kids, but they were supposed to, so they did. It took them too long to realize they’d be happier apart. They each remarried quickly. Pete and I stuck together, but I always felt responsible for him, you know? Maybe sometimes not in a sisterly way. I shouldn’t have had to be his mom. Neither of us deserved that.”

Her brows come together as she speaks. He wraps a hand around her ankle and thumbs across the protruding bone. The sub in him comes screaming out for her like he should’ve predicted it would as soon as she opened her pretty mouth.

He knows this wasn’t the plan. The plan was to see her, smile pretty, fuck hard, and get things back to how they were. The plan was to stay level, not to fucking overdose.

But he takes the hit anyway.

“It makes sense, though,” he babbles, “That’s so you. You’re a born caretaker. You take care of Peter, you take care of Silver, you take care of Pammy. You take care of your clients. I know you take care of me. It’s who you are. It’s how you got here.”

Penny watches him. If he were anyone else, she’d be waiting for his fingers to slide further up her leg, getting them closer to where they’re going. Instead, Shawn’s eyes lock on hers like he’s amazed she’s actually looking at him and his hand stays right where it is, rubbing firmer circles.

She reaches down and plucks it off with an extra hard throb of her heart. She stands and pulls him off the couch. He stumbles along behind her as she meanders toward his bedroom, shedding her dress and simple white bra and panties while she goes. He struggles to undress and nearly face plants tripping out of his jeans.

And then she’s naked in his bed again and Shawn wants to cry or document the occasion with pictures or… something. He stands above her, panting softly, waiting for her.

Suddenly she smiles and it’s not her naughty, seductive smile that Shawn loves so much, it’s another one of her smiles -- it’s the one that always makes him smile. It’s wide and toothy and gorgeous and it makes a pleasantly nervous giggle rise up from his chest.

“What?” he murmurs.

Penny lifts her arms over her head and squishes his pillows between her fingers, pulling her legs together to rub them like a cricket. Her eyes drift shut and she makes a low, sleepy moaning sound that has Shawn’s cock twitching against his thigh.

“Your bed is so goddamn comfortable, I forgot.”

Shawn preens like the compliment is for him. He climbs down and settles beside her, folding a bulky arm beneath his head.

“I know. I mean, thank you. I fucking love this bed.”

He glances over at her. Penny’s eyes are shut. He turns onto his side and skims a finger up her stomach to dance between her pretty breasts, watching her shiver.

“Wanna nap?” he offers in a husky voice.

Her eyes open lazily. Her lips curl. “Fuck yeah I wanna nap.”

Shawn groans softly and repositions himself on his side. Penny curls up around him like a big, beautiful spoon and soothes them both to sleep rubbing patterns with her thumb into his stomach.

The rhythm wakes him up. He swears he could hear it -- there must be someone playing it on the baby grand in his living room, that’s how distinct it is. It woke him up out of a weird dream where he was running back and forth between two train stations looking for his train but they were both empty.

He’s quiet for long enough to determine that there’s no one there. Or, no one that’s not in bed with him.

She’s still here. They shifted in their sleep so their chests are pressed together and he’s as tangled up in her physically as he has been mentally for weeks. He allows himself one little press of his lips to her forehead when he’s decided she’s still very asleep. He slips out of her weak, dreamy grasp and finds where he shed his boxers in their trail of clothes to the bedroom.

And then he follows the rhythm.

It’s not leading him to the guitar, it’s taking him to where the piano rests in a splatter of sherbet-y light coming through the west-facing windows. It’s sunset. The whole world is rosy. He opens all the blinds that corner in his gorgeous Steinway so he can bathe in it. He’s not really thinking, he thinks he’s only barely awake from his coma of an afternoon nap with her, so his actions are just instinct right now.

He sits at the bench and swallows, dropping his fingers to where his body seems to want them. He starts stroking, nice and softly, the way you would when you’re writing a song for a lover who’s asleep in the next room.

Shawn hums along, chasing down the rhythm that woke him up. It leads him, his voice follows, his fingers tripping along behind trying to keep up. When he grabs on, he straightens up, the intricately defined muscles in his back glowing magenta in the light as they flex and relax.

He’s found it. He’s not letting go.

It doesn’t have words yet, but that’s ok. He stands for only a few moments to hunt down his phone trapped between seat cushions on the couch so he can record this in case, god forbid, he loses track of it. But it doesn’t seem likely. It has hold of him now. Just like she does.

He repeats the same section a few times. He thinks it’s the first verse. He leans into it, squinting, pushing for a little more. The song feels like it’s teasing him, like he’s not in control, like he has to let it come to him. He strains against his instincts to tear into it, get himself bloody with it, get to its heart and its lungs and its guts. He leans back again and lets his shoulders drop, lets his head fall back. He surrenders. It brings him peace.

Penny stirs in an empty bed to the soft plinking of piano keys. She rolls over off her side and comes face to face with a pillow that smells just like him. She shuts her eyes and breathes, inhaling greedily, exhaling slowly. She makes a gentle murmuring noise and wiggles her toes, shifts her legs, rolls her hips, stretches her arms, and sighs.

Getting out of his bed isn’t as hard as she thought it would be, not as hard as it usually is to crank herself upright and face a world not coated in heavy, blue sleep. She likes the way the floorboards creak slightly as she wanders naked out of his bedroom toward the music.

She turns a corner and meets a wall of color and light. Sitting in the center of it is the piano and the man hunched over it like he’s in pain. They’re drenched in purpling pink light. His curls shiver and fall when he presses the keys harder. She thinks even with the floorboard music she’s making with her gentle steps, he can’t hear her.

Penny approaches him slowly. By the time she’s standing beside him, she’s convinced he was completely aware of her the whole time -- maybe even so aware that he felt her wake up and get out of bed. He doesn’t look up at her until she lifts a curl out of his eyes and smoothes it back up into the sweet, wild nest on top of his head.

He plays what sounds like the end of a song. Penny likes the way it feels like it trails off a bit unfinished, like the story’s not over yet, even though the song is. He slowly closes the lid over the keys and releases a long, slow exhale like maybe he had held it in for a while.

Penny goes when Shawn beckons. He closes his palms around her hips and gently guides her between his legs. He settles her against the lid and anchors his forehead to her breastbone.

Penny is flooded with the familiar urge to give him whatever he could need from her, but is paralyzed by the certainty that this… is it. She holds him, one hand massaging his scalp, the other drifting up and down from the nape of his neck to the hills and valleys of his back. His breathing evens and hers follows.

It’s a while before he looks up at her. By the time he does, the sky is red, like maybe the sun burst and neither of them noticed. Her eyes look black in this light. With his eyes trained on them, he lowers his mouth to her breast, brushing his dry lips against her nipple. The gentle intake of breath and tightening of the little brown bud is automatic and electrifying. Instead of settling there, he moves across her chest to its twin. He leaves a wet kiss in his wake that makes her fingers clench a little in his hair.

Shawn’s hands run down over her bare ass and secure against the backs of her thighs. Using his biceps, he lifts her over the lid and on top of the piano, reveling in her little gasp of surprise.

Penny looks down at him, her hands gripping the lid, the heat from her palms forming little clouds on the glossy black surface. Her knees are parted. Her feet dangle on either side of him.

Shawn doesn’t have to ask, and she doesn’t feel like making him. With a breathless mewl, Penny lies back, the cool lacquer of the piano stinging her sleepwarm skin. With her heels propped against the keys, she closes her eyes.

“Kiss me.”

Shawn starts at the inside of her left knee. His nose skims slowly down her inner thigh, smooth and warm until he reaches where she’s started to get wet for him. His breath has her legs shaking, tightening from her hamstrings. He massages them soothingly until her body melts against the instrument that’s not half as beautiful as she is.

He lifts his eyes. She’s on an elbow looking down at him. She sucks her lower lip between her teeth. He lowers his head and obeys, willingly, recklessly.

Niall’s barking laugh is neither subtle nor absolutely necessary for the non-joke that Shawn just told, but Shawn loves hearing it anyway. Shawn gets more self-conscious about Niall’s boisterousness when they’re out and about, or at least until Niall feeds him enough beer that he stops caring. But tonight, they’re in, relaxing at Niall’s place with some Australian golf tournament on TV and a case of IPA in the fridge.

Shawn’s knee bounces like he’s ready to bound out of there, but he doesn’t know what for. He was the one who requested the quiet night in. Nearly every night he’s spent in LA lately has been out with Bex seeing and being seen. The other nights have been reserved for Penny.

Shawn has gone to somewhat embarrassing lengths avoiding his other LA-based friends to spend precious little time with Penny. He knows very well he’s about to be called out on it. He’s been hitting the pints a little harder than usual to prepare.

“Alright, mate, out with it, then. What’s the deal?”

Aaaaand there it is.

Shawn runs his tongue along the corner of his mouth, sweeping up an extra drop of beer in case it makes him drunk enough to have this conversation.

“Nothing. No deal. Everything’s cool.”

Niall scoffs. “Mendes, Jesus, no one’s seen you in two months.”

Shawn pouts. “I went to the 4th of July party!”

“With her!” Niall cracks back, “You left covered in hickeys! C’mon, mate, you can tell me. I’m the one who introduced you to all this.”

Shawn shrugs a shoulder and focuses on peeling the sweating label from his bottle.

Niall wets his lips and presses harder. “I get it. It was like this with me and Karina at the beginning. Saw her all the time, it just felt so fucking good. I don’t really know what changed; I think eventually I just lost the spark of it, y’know? Like… I remembered it’s not… real.”

Shawn chuckles but doesn’t look up. Niall bristles a little at the sound of it.

“Nothing in my life is real, man.”

Shawn’s words are chilling. Niall’s heard them before, muttered on long bus rides across Europe by the boys who used to be his best friends. Hell, he’s said them too while staring at his own smiling face in a magazine.

“Mate, that’s--”

Shawn laughs again and it’s dead and humorless and Niall wants to shake him.

“I don’t want to talk about this, dude!” Shawn’s voice is edging right toward true irritation. Niall barely recognizes it on Shawn.

“Ok,” Niall agrees, backing down slightly, easing back into the couch and reaching for his bottle, “Just… if you have a problem, you can talk to me. You can always talk to me.”

Shawn’s fingers stop picking. His dark eyes lift, along with the corner of his mouth. It’s not a smile.

“My problem is that I’m head over ass, fucking crazy, can’t breathe unless she’s in the room, madly, hopelessly in love with her. What can you do about that?”

Niall’s jaw drops. Shawn watches him scramble for words, then looks back at his label.

“Yeah, me neither.”

-----------

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tjovalboy · 6 years ago

Text

It’ll Be Us (part 1/2)

short summary: frozen yogurt, Iris, and drama

part 2 should be done in a couple weeks or so!!

Words: 2060

Also on AO3

TJ looked up from his phone and sun rays blinded him as Cyrus plopped in the leather diner seat across from him.

He slid his neon green frozen yogurt cup under TJ’s nose. “I present to you: ‘The Crazy Side of Shadyside,’”

A drop of the head revealed a red creamy arch brodering the round edge of the cup, followed by orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple arches further in. At this, TJ glanced into his own cup and stifled a laugh.

“What? Let me see!”

TJ slid his cup to the boy across from him. “Mine’s called, ‘DJ Fruity’.”

Inside was a single swirl of plain white tart with an assortment of strawberry, blueberry, and kiwi toppings.

Cyrus sat back, dramatically clutching a hand to his chest. “Did we just accidentally coordinate our fro yo art though gay subtext, a quirky rhyme, and a soundcloud rapper?”

TJ cracked up feeling the familiar racing of his heart at Cyrus’s joking remark. “It’s just so us, isn’t it?”

The shorter boy followed and bursted next. “This has been a fantastic start to our day.”

TJ handed a stainless steel spoon to his boyfriend to enjoy “DJ Fruity,” while he excitedly dug into the pride flag design Cyrus had tailored for him that week. He couldn’t see himself eating frozen yogurt any other way again.

“You shouldn’t eat this kind of thing while wearing that.” Cyrus gestured at TJ’s Jefferson Middle School Basketball sweatshirt between bites. “Even though you’re technically not a middle schooler anymore, the ex-captain of the basketball team shouldn’t be getting his team sweatshirt dirty.”

TJ rolled his eyes playfully, but still stopped to take his sweatshirt off and set it on the seat next to him. In only their second week of dating, he loved that Cyrus’s helpful instinct were amplified around him, and most of the time, he was right.

TJ asked Cyrus out while they helped set up for Bex and Bowie’s wedding. The gang (him, Cyrus, Andi, Buffy, and Jonah) had free time to kill and Cyrus wanted to show him the Chinese finger trap Andi had in Andi Shack (with her permission, of course). TJ was obviously impressed with the art pieces Andi had laying around, so she slyly suggested that he and Cyrus make something for each other. The time spent alone together as the sun was going down with the fairy lights grazing their heads brought the question out of TJ’s mouth with ease, and they hardly noticed Andi and Buffy peering through the front window as they held each other’s hands and made it official.

They never ended up making anything for each other with Andi’s supplies the night of the wedding, but her suggestion gave Cyrus the idea for their frozen yogurt swap game at Lemon Berry Yogurt near the Spoon. He thought it would be a good way to to kick off the summer before TJ went to high school.

TJ looked at the boy across from him. “So, Underdog. You got any plans after this?”

Cyrus picked out a blueberry from the top of his tart and popped it into his mouth. “Nope. I am all free for whatever you’re about to say next.” TJ raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Wait, no. Scratch that. Just tell me what it is first.”

“Ah, don’t worry,” He chuckled and fought a blush. “I was just thinking we could watch a movie at my house,” he asked casually, continuing to eat his yogurt. However, despite the fact that they were dating, he was nervous about this request. The two held hands whenever they could, but cuddling was new, and he knew that a movie on a couch with two boyfriends might lead to that. He thought it would be a fun idea, though, and he hoped that Cyrus was thinking the same.

A glimpse of hesitation passed over Cyrus’s face, but it was only for a second before his usual upbeat demeanor took over. “Yeah.” Cyrus’s eyes twinkled. “Yeah, that sounds really good, TJ.”

There were so many couples at Jefferson that would have dates at fancy restaurants using their parents’ money, or hold hands a certain way because of something they’d seen in a movie. It was all a fantasy to them, acting too old for their age based off of impressions they got of dating that weren’t realistic. TJ couldn’t help but think that what he had with Cyrus was different. It was a middle school relationship where they made up food games and did things their own way, and it was what TJ loved most about them. He valued authenticity in people, and one of his biggest complaints to Cyrus was about how little of that the middle schoolers around them had.

Suddenly, a brown haired girl shuffling past their booth struck Cyrus’s attention.

“Iris!”

She spun around at the sound of her name, which weirdly sounded a lot like Cyrus’s. “Cyrus!” she exclaimed back.

“The names still sound so satisfying one after the other,” Cyrus remarked as she perched herself at the edge of the boys’ table.

“Yep.” TJ noticed she was avoiding his gaze. “And as always, the observation came from the unique, really just weird, but we’re gonna call it “unique,” mind of Cyrus Goodman.”

The three of them cracked up at the truth of her statement. Hearing TJ’s laugh reminded Cyrus there was something he still needed to do.

“Oh, TJ, this is my friend, Iris.” She shifted uncomfortably at the mention of her name. ”And Iris, my boyfriend, TJ.”

TJ jumped out of the booth so he could stand and extended a hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you. From what Cyrus told me, you seem really cool.” She looked at him for the first time as she returned the shake. “You’re welcome to sit of you want,” he said, gesturing to his own seat.

To TJ’s satisfaction, she took the seat he offered. Months ago, Cyrus told him about the high school girl he dated, named Iris, who he broke up with when he realized he was gay. Now, she seemed nervous around the new boyfriend as if she didn’t think she was welcome so he was being as friendly as possible to let her know that it wasn’t the case.

TJ slid in next to Cyrus across from his original seat and felt him squeeze his hand under the table. Facing them, Iris took bites from her full cup of froyo, already looking more relaxed.

“This is probably gonna sound weird.” She spoke after a couple of moments of silence. “But, sometimes, I like to come here after really sucky days at school and just go at my yogurt like it’s one of my canvasses.” She laughed lightly. “Then, when I’m done, I give it a stupid nickname and I-I don’t know-I just feel a little better. ”

TJ gaped at her and saw that Cyrus shared his expression. This girl they coincidentally ran into today turned out to be just like them. Not gay (but maybe, TJ thought), but appreciating the smaller aspects of life as a way of being themselves.

Iris chuckled nervously at them. “What is it?”

Cyrus tilted cup forward so she could see the fruit arrangement inside. “‘DJ Fruity’, courtesy of TJ Kippen,” he announced.

TJ looked down in playful embarrassment. “And ‘The Crazy Side of Shadyside’ a la Underdog,” he finished, showing his cup the same way.

She joined them gawking. “Oh my gosh, this is amazing.” She thrusted her rattling cup half full of Skittles under their noses to see. “I named this one ‘Dino Barf’ coming over here,” she exclaimed with a giggle.

“Taste the rainbow?” TJ raised an eyebrow and looked at his boyfriend.

“Gay subtext! It even coordinates!” Cyrus exclaimed.

Iris laughed. “Just promise you guys’ll show me DJ Fruity’s music someday ‘cause I’m really dying to know what they’re about.”

Oh boy, she had no idea, thought TJ.

She sighed to herself and paused. “This is such a nice break from being around the people at school.”

TJ noticed Iris often mentioned school in bad ways, whether it was the kind of day she had or the people there. As a soon to be high school freshman, this worried him and he wanted to know more.

“So, what’s the deal high school kids?” he asked.

This prompted a dry chuckle. “A lot of them are just--I don’t know...” She motioned in front of her. “...fake.”

TJ raised his eyebrows and Cyrus pinched an imaginary tea cup handle and took a “sip,” inviting her to continue.

“Like, I’m an artist, right? And maybe that’s it; that I’m really just complaining over nothing because I need originality and realness around me to feel good about my life, but I’m just sick and tired of everyone thinking they’re more mature because they’re going from meaningless relationship to meaningless relationship.”

“Yeah, I get that.” chimed Cyrus.

“Wow, I guess it really doesn’t get better after middle school,” TJ complained.

Iris took the last bite of her dessert and pushed the empty cup to the side. “Yeah, it doesn’t!” She shook her head, still fuming. “But the absolute worst of them all...are the jocks.”

The weight of the room shifted.

“Um, Ir-”

TJ darted a look at the boy sitting next to him, stopping him mid sentence. They were going to act cool about this. “What about them?” he inquired in his best casual voice.

Inside, TJ was hurt. This wasn’t the answer he was expecting, but he pushed the issue because he wanted to know everything she knew about the group of kids he was getting into. He loved basketball and was ecstatic that he was guaranteed a spot on the Junior Varsity team as a freshman, but he hated the idea of becoming one of the inauthentic people he always looked down on.

Cyrus looked at him with a concerned expression, but kept quiet about who TJ was.

“Well, it’s a small school, so Amber keeps me up with all the drama,” she prefaced to them. “The drama that usually happens is that the jock is a straight up jerk to whoever they’re with, and when they break up, they move on crazy quickly.”

That didn’t sound good at all, but TJ was determined to hold his ground.

“That isn’t everyone though, is it?” he argued.

Iris eyed him suspiciously. “Like I said, it’s a small school, so, pretty much.” she said hesitantly. “They end up spending so much time with each other, between locker room talk and parties, that the jerk influence just spreads.”

Was that who he was going to turn into next year? His face reddened at the unsettling thought.

“But a lot of them change, right?” piped Cyrus, noticing TJ’s growing discomfort.

“Well, yeah. They’re still human you know,” she stated obviously and smiled. TJ felt a little relief with this. “But the thing is that I haven’t seen it happen very much, and neither have a lot of people I know.” She furrowed her brows. “So, I think it’s safe to say that Grant High School athletes--past, present and future--are fake and just plain mean, especially with the people they decide to get into relationships with.”

TJ couldn’t believe it. There was apparently no good way to look at this and he needed to take his aggressions out on someone. He scowled at Iris. “No wonder you don’t have any friends. You just think you know everything about athletes, but you don’t!” he snapped, already pushing himself out of the booth.

“Excuse me?” Iris retorted angrily as he strode away toward the door.

Cyrus looked extremely worried. He fumbled with both of their empty frozen yogurt cups as he exited the booth in a hurry to catch up with him. “I’m sorry, Iris. We’ll talk soon, maybe?” he said back to her, tripping over his shoes and following TJ outside.

Now alone, Iris frantically wondered what she had done to cause this outburst. She felt terrible, especially since it seemed like the three of them were getting along well as a group. Amidst her thought, a light blue, rumpled sweatshirt on the seat next to her caught her eye. She held it up, her jaw dropping as she read the white logo printed across the front.

#tyrus #andi mack #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #iris #I cant believe i finally finished

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