#i spent so long trying to find an app that did text right

[moodriingz]

Into Your Room | L. Hughes

Summary | Luke breaks up with the reader and they're both miserable

Pairing | Luke Hughes x reader, Jack Hughes x platonic! reader, Ethan Edwards x platonic! reader

Warning | Breakups ? and maybe three curse words ? that's about it!

Author's Note | This is my first post! I'm so excited because I love this song and all I could think about for a couple of days was this scenario. Please send requests and what you think!

Masterlist

You and Luke started dating while he was at the University of Michigan. Sure, you knew when He went to play for the Devils long-distance would be difficult because of your classes and his practices and games but you wanted to try. So it came as a shock when Luke broke up with you halfway through the summer after his NHL Debut.

“Y/N I really think we need to take a breather,” said Luke while you were both watching the sunset on the beach of the lake house. 

“What?” You asked. It felt like your world came crashing down out of nowhere. You guys had barely been together a year. But you were inseparable at school and during the summers. 

“Yeah, I just need to focus on hockey right now and you have your classes. I just don’t think it’s going to work out,” Luke rambled.

“But I want to make it work. I told you that before you left for New Jersey,” 

“I don’t want to be held back because of some relationship,” Luke said and you stayed quiet. Your heart was shattering and he was stomping all over it.

“Ok, I’ll get all of my stuff and go back home. No point in wasting any time I guess,” You said with blurry eyes.

You packed up your bag and got ready to go. You saw Jack on the way out and gave him a hug goodbye.

“I don’t know what He’s thinking. I’m sure He’ll come around. It'll all work out,” Jack said into your hair even though it felt like he was trying to convince himself instead of you.

“It’s fine Jack, just take care of him for me,” you said and left the house and got in your car without looking back at one of your favorite places in the world. 

I will run after your moving car

And I will follow you

You're my northern star

Luke was miserable for the rest of the summer. He didn’t want to admit it but he was lost without you. He wished he stopped your car as you left. He regretted everything he said. He was just scared you would find someone better than him at school now that he wasn't there.

Luke told himself that once the season started he wouldn’t have time to think about how much he missed you. Boy was he wrong.

He stalked your Instagram in his free time. He was sure he was almost always the first viewer of any story you posted and had to force himself to ignore your profile picture anytime it came up when he opened the app.

You looked like you hadn’t missed a beat once you got back to school. Always posting when you’d go out with friends or when you’d study at your favorite coffee shop.

You both had so many great memories there anytime you’d post your coffee order he could basically hear the espresso machines and the smell of coffee. He'd remember your laughter from when he had gotten foam on his top lip. Or the time you were so nervous for finals and wouldn’t look up from your computer until he got you a refill of your coffee. Your smile was so bright from such a small gesture he knew he had to do anything he could to see it.

Except he did the opposite. His last memory of you was full of tears as he watched your car pull away. He didn’t know what to do. Luke was a mess while you seemed fine. How could he ever convince you to take him back?

You don't know how much I need you

Yeah, I feel the weight

It's crushing me

You were a mess coming back to school. You missed Luke more than you thought you would. The two of you spent so much time together and when you couldn’t be with each other you would text every chance you’d get.

You missed his goofy smile and curly hair. Luke Hughes was everywhere. The memory of him was in the Library where you would have study dates, He was in your favorite bar where he couldn’t take his eyes off of you all night, He was in your classes where you would sit together and whisper random things back and forth. He was everywhere except where you needed him to be. With you.

Your friends always dragged you out even when all you wanted to do was stay in and watch your favorite TV show and wallow. They always made sure to take good photos so you could post “to make Luke know what he’s missing” they’d always say. 

They basically had a schedule set of when to study with you or get coffee. You didn’t mean to make them watch over you as much as you did, but you couldn’t help how much you needed Luke. 

Finally one night You convinced them that you were too busy with homework to hang out when really you were going to watch the New Jersey Devils season opener. Ethan Edwards saw right through your lies about studying because he knew you liked to finish most of your work at the beginning of the week.

He insisted on watching the game with you and you let him because he was the only one who remotely knew what you were feeling. You both watched pregame, and when the commentators showed Luke all you could notice were his eyebags and how tired he looked. Your heart shattered all over again.

You watched him get his first assist of the season and your heart clenched. If you were still together he would’ve called you after the game and told you all about it. Now you just felt like a spectator while he was all you could think about. Ethan turned to you and noticed how upset you were with tears threatening to spill over. He was tired of seeing his friends destroy themselves.

So, maybe, take me into your room

Without you, my soul is eternally doomed

You're the center of this universe

My sorry ass revolves around you

No, I can't do without you

Jack couldn’t take Luke’s self-pity anymore. All he would do was look at his phone and play hockey. Jack could tell it was affecting Luke more than he was letting on. His eyes were almost always bloodshot and he looked like he was moving through the motions at practice. 

Luke was a shell of his former self and Jack knew he had to do something. He texted Ethan because he knew that besides Luke that’s who you would talk to the most. They both started plotting to get you back together. The Devils had a game against the Red Wings right before Thanksgiving and knew there had to be some way to get you there.

Ethan practically begged on his knees for you to come to the game. He told you he was gifted the tickets and would feel horrible to not go. Everyone else had already left for Thanksgiving, leaving you as his only option.

You weren’t stupid. You knew the game was against the Devils. You had the date marked in your planner as when you would have seen Luke if you were still together. You both looked forward to the game because it was the first time you would’ve seen him play in the NHL and then you would've gone to his parent’s lake house for Thanksgiving the next day. At least that's what was supposed to happen. 

You only agreed to Ethan because you felt bad no one else could go. Ethan promised no funny business, and you could leave the game the second the final buzzer went off. It felt safe and you could see Jack. You missed Luke, but you were also close with Jack. It was something Luke loved about you, how great you got along with his brothers. 

Luke had no idea about the plan Jack and Ethan were brewing. He was especially miserable because he knew if he didn’t mess up the best thing in his life several months ago, you would be at the game cheering him on. He was in hell beating himself over it. All he wanted was to see you in the Jersey he gave you right before his NHL debut. 

Ethan came and picked you up all giddy when he noticed you were wearing a Hughes 43 jersey.

“What? It’s the only Devils gear I have, and I’m sure as hell not going to cheer for them in a Red Wings jersey,” You said without taking a breath.

“I wasn’t even going to say anything.”

You two find your seats and you realize how close to the ice it is. You’re on the Devils side facing the bench a couple rows up from the ice. Luke is definitely going to see you because of your proximity.

“If you had told me how close we were going to be I definitely would’ve worn-” You said before getting cut off.

“Don’t even finish that sentence we’re rooting for my team tonight,” Ethan said talking over the music.

The Devils start coming out for warm up and it doesn’t take Luke more than two seconds to see you. You both lock eyes and don’t look away. He notices you’re in the jersey he gave you, and his heart flutters with hope. He just stands there looking at you until Nico pushes him to tell him has to get ready for the game. You, however, look like a deer in headlights and your heart stops. You hadn’t seen Luke since the summer. Tears start to gather in your eyes and you know you have to leave.

“Ethan I can’t do this. I can’t be here,” You say with tears starting to fall.

“Please you promised me plus he can’t even do anything he’s on the ice,” Ethan says trying to convince you knowing it won’t work.

You start to gather your things when Luke notices. He rushes across the ice and knocks on the glass to get your attention. You instantly regret looking his way, but his eyes look desperate and excited your heart flutters the tiniest bit. 

You read his mouth as he begs you to stay. You just look at him and Ethan debating what to do. You decide to stay and see what happens. Ethan's right he can’t do anything while he’s on the ice, right?

I'm throwing stones at your window

To get you to notice me

Don't make me stand outside, in the pouring rain

With a freshly ripped human heart from my rib cage

And a boom-box

How pathetic, babe

It was a hard loss for the Devils, but the end of the game meant you could finally leave. Ethan was right, Luke didn’t bother you for the rest of the game besides constantly looking at you when he wasn’t on the ice or there was a faceoff right in front of your seats.

As you and Ethan are getting ready to leave you get a text.

From moosey

please don’t leave

i really want to talk

You showed Ethan and he looked at you bewildered.

“You never changed his name?”

“I never had the heart,” You say looking back down at the texts. The three bubbles show up and disappear over and over again.

“I think you should go. What's the worst that could happen, right?” Ethan asks. 

“I don’t know he can rip my heart out all over again and tell me off for coming to his game,” You say, swaying on your toes to your heels.

“He won’t do that trust me,” You don’t even have the energy to ask Ethan as your anxiousness bubbles up to your throat.

To moosey

where can we meet?

From moosey

come down to the locker room i can tell security you and ethan are coming

To moosey

ok 

Luke has to stop himself from running to you when you get to the locker room. He wants to pick you up and spin you around like he used to do after his Michigan games. Instead, he walks up to you and says a simple hi.

“What did you want to talk about?” You whisper nervous about what he has to say.

“Us.” Your breath stops ready for him to tell you off for coming.

“I fucked up ending our relationship,” He says with his eyes turning red.

“Luke, why now? I was ready to fight for us but you dismissed me like I was nothing to you.” 

“Because I was scared,” He admits. “I was scared you’d find someone who’d be able to give you more attention than I could. And that’s what you deserve, but God I can’t be without you. You’re the opposite of nothing, you’re my everything and I’m so lost without you. The last couple of months have been absolute hell.”

“You should’ve talked to me. I would’ve told you there’s no one better for me than you. The last couple of months have wrecked me.” You tell him.

So, don't turn away

You must know how much I need you, need you

Yeah, I can feel your pain

I hate to think how bad I treated you

But I know a place

Where the darkness can't reach us

“Please forgive me. Please can we just forget this all happened?” Luke begs you.

You just nod and launch yourself into his arms for a kiss. He deepens it by holding you in by your hair. Your heart flutters and you never want this moment to end.

“Would it be too much to ask you to spend Thanksgiving with us? I just don’t want to spend any more time away from you. But I get it-,” Luke asks nervously before you cut him off.

“No I’d love to come, I miss everybody.”

“Did I miss it? Did our plan work?” Jack comes into the hallway shouting excitedly.

“What plan?” Luke asks Ethan and Jack.

“You didn’t,” You say.

“Oh but we did, who do you think gave me the tickets?” said Ethan mischievously.

“Well I guess your plan did work, good job boys,” you say with a blush on your cheeks.

Luke kisses your cheek and tells Jack you are spending Thanksgiving with the family and you won't be going anywhere anytime soon. You finally feel like you’re back where you belong. While Luke feels the relief of finally having his world back. 

No, I can't do without you, baby

Maybe, take me into your room

Without you, my soul is eternally doomed

You're the center of this universe

My sorry ass revolves around you

You— And again

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is having a hard time trying to convince himself that being with you is wrong, but he plans another date anyway. You're floating on cloud nine after Saturday night, but you're quickly brought back down to earth the next time you see him. Lucky for you, Bradley more than makes up for his indiscretion at the end of the night.

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley was completely stunned, sitting on his living room couch with his soft cock hanging out of his jeans. He heard you start your car, and he saw your tail lights shine through the window blinds as you backed out of his driveway and drove away. 

After nearly a year of being touched by nobody but himself, you got him off so good, he still couldn't move ten minutes later.

"Holy shit," he whispered to his silent living room. You had just given him the best blowjob of his life. His entire life. Bradley had been with his fair share of women, gotten more head than he could keep track of. But you were the best. Hands down, the fucking best he had ever had. 

Maybe it was because it had been so long since he'd been with someone, but he tended to believe it was just you. He was so attracted to you, he should have known you would absolutely blow his mind like that. He should have known you would show up Amanda and Grace and Talia and become the only one he was thinking about. 

Then Bradley cradled his face in both of his hands. You had caught him ready to jerk off with your sweatshirt, moaning your name. How fucking embarrassing. And then you'd agreed to do him a favor and get him off. Your words echoed through his mind, "I can help you with that. If you want."

But you were unattainable. Off limits. The babysitter. Noah was so attached to you. When Nat found out, she was going to lose her mind. And probably not in a good way. Because Bradley was a thirty six year old man with a ridiculous crush on a woman twelve years younger than him. 

He forgot to pay you before you left. Oh god, how was he supposed to pay you after you sucked his cock for him? He was starting to feel worse and worse now. 

Before he could change his mind, he grabbed his phone and messaged back the first random woman who was trying to chat with him in the app. He'd set up another date. He'd set up a million more dates if he needed to. If he didn't get you out of his mind, he'd have to find a different babysitter and break Noah's heart. And probably his own as well.

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

You were still giggly the next day. You couldn't stop thinking about Bradley. You'd given him a blowjob. He had been moaning your name! You wanted to do that again. Maybe he felt the same way about you that you did about him. Your heart was pounding. 

After several texts from Greyson, you decided to keep ignoring him. You had a lot of schoolwork to catch up on, and it didn't help that you knew how big Bradley's dick was and how he tasted. He was bigger and better than Greyson in every way. It wasn't making your day easier envisioning Bradley's eyes practically rolling into the back of his head while you sucked him off, but you indulged in the memories anyway.

The fact that you were masturbating to the thought of him cumming in your mouth when Bradley texted you on Sunday evening should have embarrassed you. But it did not. It made you feel even hotter for him. You really hoped this was him making the next move.

Any chance you're free to come over on Wednesday when you finish your classes?

You bit your lip and squealed, forcing yourself to wait more than five seconds before you texted him back. And when you did, it was with a giddy smile.

I can head over right after class, Daddy. See you on Wednesday.

He didn't end up writing back, but you knew he was busy. So you spent the week avoiding Greyson as much as you could. And when you saw Penny when you were out taking a walk, she waved you down.

"How are things working out with Bradley and Noah?" she asked you with a smile. 

Your mind returned to the velvet feel of his erection gliding over your tongue and the broken, raspy groans of his delicious orgasm.

"Oh, so far so good," you said before pressing your lips together. "Noah is the sweetest child in the world. And Bradley, well. He's actually kind of sweet too."

Penny just laughed and nodded her head. "He really is. When my bartenders found out he's dating again, they both lost their minds. I was thinking about trying to see if he was interested in going out with either of them."

Your heart suddenly felt like it was resting against your lungs, making it difficult to breathe. "Oh. Do they seem like his type?"

Penny laughed harder now. "Bradley's type is female."

Okay, that you did believe. Or rather, you believed any woman who was into guys would be into Bradley. As long as you were cool with Noah, the man was the total package. 

"He only has the most wonderful things to say about you, too," Penny added with a smile. "He said that even though you're so young, he knows he can trust you with Noah. And I don't think he would say that about very many people."

You couldn't decide if that was a compliment or a slight against your age. And when you drove to his house after your final class on Wednesday, you started to feel awkward. Neither of you had mentioned the fact that the last time you were here, you'd had his dick in your mouth. 

"Hi," you called out when you let yourself in, and Noah came running to greet you at the door. You scooped him up in a hug and started to carry him to the kitchen. "Where's your dad?"

Noah just kind of shrugged. "Getting dressed." When you set Noah down at the kitchen table, you immediately noticed a coffee cup sitting on the kitchen counter with Princess scrawled across it. 

You picked it up and took one sip of the French vanilla latte, and then you heard Bradley's voice. "Hey. Princess." You spun around with a bright smile on your face, but his expression had you immediately biting your lip and furrowing your brow. He looked confused and irritated and maybe a little sad. None of those expressions were right for his handsome face.

"Hi," you said softly, hoping you could make him smile. "What are your plans for tonight? Going to try to give me a sore throat again?"

His gaze dropped to the floor, and then you really took in what he was wearing. A nice shirt and chinos. He was going out. He hadn't invited you over to see you at all. 

"Um, actually," he muttered, but you cut him off.

"Actually, you're going on another date?" 

"Yeah." He nodded and briefly met your eyes. "Someone from the app."

He only needed to use you to get his rocks off so he could go out with someone else. God, you were so fucking stupid. He didn't want you at all. He probably thought of you as practically a child. And maybe he found you attractive enough to think filthy things about you, and allow you to suck his dick, but that was it. 

"Okay, have a great time," you said, setting the coffee cup down on the counter. You didn't want another sip. 

"Princess," he whispered, reaching out for you. But you managed to sidestep him as you sat down next to Noah and picked up a coloring book. 

"I hope she's as much fun for you as I was on Saturday night," you said, biting down hard on your lip to keep from screaming at him. 

You felt his presence behind you to the point you could almost feel the warmth of his body. But he didn't say anything, he just placed your coffee cup on the table in front of you, spinning it until the writing was facing you. 

"Thanks for the coffee. I hope you find what you're looking for tonight."

You heard him swallow hard, and then he kissed Noah's head, and then he was gone. And you were left to color some dinosaurs with the kid you wanted to spend all your time with. Too bad his dad was sending you so many mixed signals, you felt like crying. 

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

Bradley felt like an asshole the entire time he was with Gabby. She seemed really sweet, but he couldn't stop thinking about what you said to him. As if you weren't what he was looking for. 

In all actuality, you really were not what he was looking for. But you seemed to be exactly what he wanted. But wanting someone and having long term compatibility were two completely different things. 

"So...." Gabby said for the third time. Bradley could barely focus on her or his dinner. "Tell me more about yourself, Bradley."

He started rambling on about work or some shit. He wasn't even really sure. This conversation was painful compared to the way you and he were together. Or at least the way you and he were before he started to fuck everything up between the two of you. The drunk kissing was bad enough, but the blowjob was just the nail in the coffin of the flirting with you that had him absolutely smitten in the first place. 

Now Gabby was saying something about her job, and he couldn't handle it anymore. "Gabby? Sorry, but I think I'm just too distracted for this tonight."

She glared at him across the table. "Yeah, I noticed. I don't care how handsome you are if you're going to be rude. Pull your head out of your ass next time you ask someone out."

"I'm sorry," he muttered as she stood up to leave, and not a minute later, the waiter arrived with both meals. 

He looked at Bradley cautiously. "Can you pack both of those to go? Please?" Bradley asked. He was going to have to leave this guy a hefty tip, but that was fine. 

He had barely been gone for an hour and a half, and that included driving to the far end of the city. When he pulled into his driveway, he grabbed both meals, and made sure he called out from the front door. "I'm back."

You popped around the corner with Noah in your arms, and Bradley's heart leapt. "You're early," you said in surprise. "We're just about to get in bed." Bradley could tell how tired Noah looked, but he could barely take his eyes off you. 

"Do you want to sing with us, daddy?" Noah asked with a yawn, and Bradley was of course drawn to the two of you like his life depended on it. 

"Of course, bub." A minute later, Bradley was watching you tuck his son into bed while you sang a ridiculous song about dinosaurs that sounded made up. But Noah knew all the words too, and you were both laughing. 

"Night, kiddo," you whispered, brushing his hair back from his forehead. Then you slipped past Bradley without another look in his direction. When he gently reached for your hand, you yanked yourself free and kept walking.

Bradley quickly kissed Noah, and then he was following you into the kitchen where you were packing up Noah's art supplies without a word. There was an open bag of Skittles on the table next to some of your textbooks, and Bradley didn't want you packing those things up. They looked like they belonged there. 

He cleared his throat. "I brought dinner back for you. If you want it."

You laughed a little sarcastically. "I'm not eating another woman's leftovers, but thanks anyway, Bradley." You put your books into your tote bag, and Bradley took a step closer to you.

"Princess," he whispered, and your eyes fluttered closed for a beat. He wanted you, and at times like this, he felt like you wanted him, too. "It's not leftovers. My date bailed before the food came out."

Your stomach growled when he opened the takeout containers, and you rolled your eyes. "Fine. I'm starving." He let you pick between the two meals, and you chose the one he had ordered for himself. He didn't care, he'd eat his date's food. He could barely even remember what her name was at this point, because you were plating and microwaving the entrees like you lived here. 

"I'll just eat quickly, and then I'll be out of your hair," you told him, taking a bite of his filet mignon. Bradley settled down into the seat next to you. He wanted more than anything to talk with you, but he didn't know how. Not after what he let you do last time you were here. So he just took a few bites of food and watched you. 

"Your date bailed early? What did you do?" you asked between bites of steak. Bradley watched your eyes flash with mischief. "Does she know what you did to get those free coffees from the barista?"

Bradley chuckled and shook his head. 

"Oh my god, did you insult her after she told the waitress to hold the salad dressing?" you said, biting into your plush, glossy lip. Then your expression clouded a bit. "She didn't say something negative about Noah?"

Bradley scraped the last bite of his food onto his fork and finished eating. "No. Actually I didn't even get to mention Noah. And I have no idea if she ordered a salad. I can't even remember if I had a salad, Princess. I was so distracted all night."

"Why were you distracted?" you asked softly while Bradley took both plates to the sink. 

He reached into the refrigerator and opened a beer, drinking half of it while he decided what he wanted to say to you. You popped a red Skittle followed by two yellow ones into your mouth, and the movement of your jaw took him back to Saturday night. His cock hitting the back of your throat. His hands on your jaw and your face. Those pretty lips wrapped around his balls. 

"Princess," he groaned, and he watched you shove the last few Skittles into your mouth before jumping to your feet.

"Well, I'm going to head out," you said a bit breathlessly. "Oh, and thanks for dinner and for clarifying that these were not sloppy seconds."

Bradley set his beer on the counter and followed you out into his living room, your tote bag swaying along with your ass in your tiny shorts. "Fuck, Princess. Wait. Please?"

"What?" you asked, glancing back over your shoulder. 

Bradley reached out and ran his fingers along your cheek inhaling the scent of wildflowers. "My date bailed, because I was awful. I wasn't paying any attention to her. I can barely even remember what she looked like."

You turned to face him. "What was her name?"

He shook his head. "I can't fucking remember. All I can remember is you. Even when I'm not with you. That's why she hightailed it out of the restaurant."

You pressed your lips together, but you didn't back away when Bradley stepped into your personal space. "You've been thinking about me?" you asked in barely a whisper.

"Nonstop, Princess. And you wanna know about sloppy seconds? Anyone else ever gives me a blowjob, and I'll be thinking about you the entire time."

Your lips parted on a soft gasp. "Oh."

He nodded, stroking his thumb across your lips. "Best I ever had. I already couldn't stop thinking about you, and that just made it a hundred times worse."

"Bradley," you whispered, pressing yourself against him. He didn't move as you eased yourself up onto your toes and kissed him. You nibbled softly on his lips and sighed, then looked up at him like you felt the same way he did. 

It was so innocent, so fucking sweet. Or it would have been if Bradley wasn't wrapping both hands around your hips and licking the seam of your lips. You parted them immediately for him as your arms came up to wrap around his neck. Bradley tasted your tongue and grunted when he felt your fingers running through his hair.

He broke the kiss and let his hands slide down to palm your ass. "You taste like Skittles. I love Skittles."

You smiled up at him. "Sorry, I didn't save you any." Bradley planted his lips on the side of your neck and listened to you moan and dig your fingers in his hair. 

"I don't deserve any, remember?" he asked, rubbing his mustache below your ear. "I'm a peasant. You're the princess."

You made a soft sound that went right to Bradley's cock as you guided his lips back to yours. "Last time you kissed me, you were drunk," you whispered to him before mashing your lips against his. You were pushing him, walking him back toward the couch, and Bradley couldn't help but go where you wanted him to. 

He sat down a little hard against the cushions, his head tipped back to look up at you. "Yeah. I was kind of drunk. And that was a sin, because my memories are a little fuzzy. And you deserve to be remembered with crystal clarity, Princess."

"Do I?" you asked coyly, standing between his spread legs and clasping your hands in front of you. 

Bradley reached out with his right hand and ran his knuckles up and down your thigh. "Listen, Princess. Your lips wrapped around my cock will fuel my fantasies for years to come, but right now I want my mouth involved as much as possible."

You were instantly climbing into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing your mouth to his again. Bradley welcomed you back into his arms like you belonged there. You peppered some kisses to his lips and mustache before you pulled away from him a little bit with a smile. You were irresistible, and he was grinning right back at you. 

"Okay, go ahead," you told him, gripping his hair and tipping his head away from you. Bradley grunted as your little denim shorts rubbed against his pants creating some friction. "Try to kiss me better than you did after you were out drinking the other night. Because I thought it was pretty great, actually."

He let you tug his hair which was making him throb for you. "What do I get if I win?"

You moaned softly. "The satisfaction of a job well done?"

He shook his head. "Not good enough."

You laughed. "A pat on the back?"

"No," he said, stroking your cheek with his fingers and coaxing your lips closer to his. "I want a fifty percent share of all Skittles consumed in my house."

You gasped so theatrically, he laughed out loud. "That's scandalous. Twenty five percent, or I'm leaving," But you were inching closer and closer to him.

"Deal, Princess," he whispered against your lips, and now he found himself trying to outdo any kisses that came before you. It actually wasn't hard. You'd been his best the last time you were here. Now he wanted to be the best for you. He started off slow now, his fingers teasing along your cheeks and all over your neck. He knew his mustache was prickling along your lip, but you seemed to like it as you were grinding against him a little bit now.

Bradley made sure he was using just the right amount of pressure with his lips, always drawing you back to his kisses. The little sounds at the back of your throat were encouraging, as were your fingers which had dipped inside his shirt at the back of his neck.

He sucked gently on your bottom lip now as his hands found their way to your waist. He nibbled softly on your lip before releasing it, and he was so pleased to see he had kissed off all of your lipgloss. Now your lips just looked extra pouty, and your eyes were needy. 

"How am I doing so far?" he teased, kissing along your chin and your jaw, eventually letting his lips settle on the front of your neck. 

"You must really want those Skittles," you gasped, head tipped back as he worked his mouth against your soft skin. He sucked gently on you there, nearly thrusting against you as you rubbed yourself on him. "Oh!"

And then his hands were a little rougher, squeezing your hips and wrapping around the back of your neck. You leaned into him, clearly not afraid of what his body was demanding as he tasted your tongue and your teeth. He felt your hands on his chest and abs. He could feel your warmth against his cock as you rocked your body into his. He could feel your nipples, hard and rubbing his chest through too much fabric. 

"Princess?" he asked, his lips brushing against yours. 

"Yeah, okay," you said, gasping against his lips, kissing him between sentences. "You win. Twenty five percent of the Skittles. They are yours."

He kissed you, laughing against your lips. "That's really nice and all, baby. But I'd rather taste you right now?"

"Me?" you asked softly, putting a few inches between your mouth and his.

"I want to know if you taste sweet all over, Princess. Will you let me find out?" he asked, stroking his index finger along the zipper of your shorts. He was gauging your reaction to him as you bit your lip and tried to squeeze your thighs together. 

"You want to go down on me?" you whispered, hands gasping along his abs.  

He nodded. "Real fucking bad, Princess."

You licked your swollen lips and whimpered. "Okay, Daddy."

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

Bradley had been so sweet, his brown eyes like something from your dreams. His lips and his hands were all over you, turning you on and making you so wet. But now he wanted to taste you? Find out if you were sweet?

As soon as you called him Daddy again, he had the front of your shorts open, and you were lying on the couch on your back with his big body over yours. 

A moan escaped your lips as soon as he eased his hand inside the front of your underwear and over your clit, and then his mouth was on yours, devouring you. You were making little noises against his lips as he stroked you just the way you liked to touch yourself. It was like he knew how crazy this would make you. And when his other hand ended up inside your shirt, pulling down your bra and stroking your nipples, you groaned his name. 

"You're soaking wet," he said, rubbing his mustache along your jaw in time with his fingers as they worked their way down toward your opening. He teased you like that until you were begging him for more, your fingers tangling wildly in his hair. 

"Please, please," you gasped, and then Bradley was sitting back a bit, his hard dick on display for you through his pants. He yanked your jean shorts down your legs and tossed them to the floor, followed by your lacy, white underwear. 

"Oh, fuck me," he groaned as he looked at you, bare for him from the waist down, except for your socks and sneakers which he left on. 

Then without hesitation, Bradley stroked his hands up the backs of your thighs, spread them wide and brought his mouth down to your pussy. He placed the softest kiss against you there, his mustache making you bite down on your lip in response to the sensation. 

"Bradley," you gasped, feeling your lower back arch off the couch as he ran his tongue from your opening all the way up to your clit in one glorious swipe. 

You should have been embarrassed by the way you were reacting to him. But he just looked up at you with his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking gently before he released you. "You're so sensitive, Princess," he grunted. And then he was running his nose through your wetness and kissing you everywhere. "And you taste so good."

This didn't feel like you expected it to; it felt so much better than that. Bradley's lips and mustache and his fingers and tongue. Everything he did had you gasping, crying out for more. 

"I got you," he promised, spreading your legs wider every time you tried to squeeze them against his head. You were writhing against the couch now, simultaneously trying to pull yourself away from his mouth and also rub your clit against his nose for more. 

"Oh god!" you groaned, loud enough that you should be concerned about waking up Noah. But you couldn't stop! Bradley was licking up and down your slit with sure movements and then sucking on your clit until you were practically in tears. Over and over again. Then Bradley was shoving his fingers inside you and kissing your clit before circling it with his thumb.

"You're getting loud, Princess," he whispered, guiding his body over top of yours again. You wrapped your legs around his hips when he kissed you with his wet lips and face. You were licking yourself off his lips when he asked, "You like how you taste? You're so sweet."

You could only whine in agreement as he pushed your shirt up and buried his face against your lace covered breasts. He kissed his way back down your body, and soon you were grinding against his face while he held your thighs. 

"Oh, god, oh!" you gasped when he was licking and sucking again. You closed your eyes tight as your legs started to shake. And then Bradley pumped his fingers into you a little slower and sucked on your clit with a little more pressure, and you felt yourself clenching hard. You rode his fingers with your feet planted on his shoulders, and he looked up at you like he owned you. 

"Daddy!" you cried out, enjoying what was quite obviously the longest and best orgasm of your life. 

"Call me Daddy again," he demanded before sealing his pretty lips around your clit once more and sucking.

"Daddy!" you groaned, pulsing around his fingers. And then everything felt wet. Really wet. And Bradley's face turned to an expression of awe. And his face was wet, too. You sat up and looked down your body to where his fingers were still rammed inside your pussy. But the couch was wet. "What happened?" you asked, but his lips were on yours, and he was pushing you back down again. 

"Princess," he groaned, still moving his fingers gently inside you, and now you were finally coming down fully from the peak of pleasure he had brought to your body. "Christ Almighty, baby. You're the sweetest fucking thing, aren't you?" He kept praising you, his lips all over your face. And when he finally withdrew his fingers and brought them up to his mouth, you helped him lick them clean. 

And then he was gaping down at you, stroking his knuckles along your cheek. "What happened?" you asked softly. You didn't think your body would ever recover fully enough for you to speak louder than this, but you didn't care. Everything felt too good. 

"You squirted for me," he replied, those big brown eyes roaming all over your face before he kissed you. 

Oh. You still felt wet. You had made a mess on his couch. You could feel the warmth rising in your cheeks. "I didn't mean to," you whispered, suddenly feeling very shy.

"Was so hot," Bradley whispered next to your ear. "Princess." His lips on the shell of your ear and his hard cock pressing against your hip made you feel a little bolder. You tried to sit up, but he was huge on top of you.

"Do you want me to get you off?" you asked, reaching down toward him. But Bradley took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles. 

"No. You've done plenty. You're a Princess, made to be worshipped." You settled back against the couch cushions and let him kiss along your neck until he had his fill.

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

Bradley helped you get dressed. Then he walked you to your car. Then he kissed you goodnight. And then he paid you for watching Noah which made him feel physically sick. You tried to push the money away, but he insisted. Then he went back inside into the bathroom and came hard after stroking himself three times to the thought of your pussy soaking his face. 

He was a mess. A literal fucking mess now. He sat down on the bathroom floor. He had no idea what to do. But then he laughed out loud when he remembered how his night started. He had been on a date with some random faceless woman earlier, but his night had ended with his own face buried in your pussy. 

This was not a good idea. None of this was a good idea. He needed to figure this the fuck out. 

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

Nice work, Bradley. Amazing effort. Enjoy your babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

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@daisyhollyxox

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[sluggzillaa]

Orbitron

Word Count: 2.5k

✧ Pairing: Joost Klein x Fem!Reader

✧ Summary: After going through a huge breakup with your ex, you decided to try dating again. what didn't expect was for it to bring back your old flame

✧ Warnings and tags: pet/nicknames(Sweetheart) ,some needed fluff, exs to lovers, cursing, angst, joost is kind of an asshole

✧ Authors note: my requests are open so please request something so I have an excuse to post more. ps, MINORS SHOO!

“I’ll never leave you, Schat”

⋆.ೃ࿔*

You can’t remember how long it has been since you came to terms with the fact that you’re now single. It wasn’t like you were in denial, you were just genuinely unsure. You were completely in the dark about everything. One day you’re exchanging I love yous and the next your texts are green. Now you spent your time trying to navigate single life, especially since you felt like you’ve been in a relationship for so long.

You downloaded a couple dating apps. Finding it difficult to not cringe or get nostalgic whenever you see a pale man with slightly long blonde hair. You’d be surprised how many people look like your ex.

Finally you landed on someone who was the complete opposite of your ex. He had dark skin, dark curly hair, and definitely not as tall as him. Hopefully, this would be exactly what you needed to get over the rapper. You hopped out of the shower and rushed to get ready as you were running behind schedule. It's been a while since you’ve been on an actual date so you were pretty rusty. Once your hair was done, you ran into your room and scavenged through piles of clothes to find a decent outfit. You found a decently casual black midi dress. You genuinely didn’t care much to impress your date, you just wanted to be able to say you did it. You slipped on the dress and rushed to the bathroom to put on the minimum amount of makeup you felt comfortable going out in. Once you felt ready, you called for your cab and let your date know you were on your way.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

You walked up to the front of the restaurant and looked around the crowd for your date. You spotted him and walked over to your table. He stood up as soon as he noticed you, a huge smile on his face.

“Apson, right?” You greeted

“Yeaa”

He pulled you into a welcoming hug. He pulled away and pulled out your chair for you as well as taking your bag. You thanked him and pulled the chair in. He rounded the table and sat down. You two quickly scanned the menu to decide what you would eat. Once that was done, you two quickly got to small talk.

“So are you from the netherlands? Your dutch is very good” He questioned

“Technically no, I was born and raised for a bit in America but my parents moved me here in high school”

“I see.. So how was-”

He was quickly cut off by his phone ringing off the hook. He had a privacy screen on his phone so you couldn’t see who it was. He apologized and walked off to take the call. You huffed and took a moment to look around. You locked eyes with the waiter who was coming your way. He asked if you were ready to order but asked for a few extra minutes. Apson soon came back, but did not sit back down. You gave him a concerned look.

“Hey i’m sorry, an emergency came up and i really have to go”

“Oh okay, I guess we can reschedule”

“Yea maybe”

He wasted no time and quickly rushed out of the restaurant. You looked down at the table and wondered if you had done something wrong or if you were just overthinking. You grabbed your stuff and headed out of the restaurant.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

Once you got home, you quickly slipped out of your dress and into some pajamas. You washed all your makeup off your face. You were drying your face and heard a buzz from your phone. You put the towel down and picked up your phone to read the notification.

joostklein liked your story

You threw your phone into the sink and leaned back against your bathroom wall. You stared at your phone like it was a huge scary bug. You gained the courage to grab your phone and look back at the notification, ensuring it was real. Your eyes widened the more you looked at it.

“Holy shit!”

⋆.ೃ࿔*

You spent all day staring at your phone, waiting for his next move. You questioned how he even found you considering you changed all your usernames since he left. Since it was right there, you took a peek at his page. He had changed his hair. It was no longer just a dirty blonde mess of grown out hair, it was now a platinum blonde mullet. He had no longer lived in hoodies. He had switched from his need for comfort to a need for style. The biggest change to you was that he had finally grown facial hair. He still had those gorgeous kind eyes that always drew you in. You scrolled further and found his concert clips, realizing he had actually obtained his dream. You had done one final scroll and that's where you had found the picture that had changed it all.

A photo of Joost in a blue suit with spiked shoulder pads and Apson in a blue bird suit

You were absolutely fuming. He was now going out of his way to fuck with your ability to move on despite being the one who left. You were tired of constantly invading every part of your life, even when he wasn’t actually there. You needed to take matters into your own hands. You clicked the message button on his profile and got to typing like a maniac.

fa3d0ll: Who the fuck do you think you are? You ruin my fucking date meanwhile you were the one who walked out on me. You thought a record deal was more important than your girlfriend. You chose to leave and now you think you have the privilege to invade my privacy and control my life. You walked out my life so please stay the fuck out of my life completely. I’m done with you

You huffed and put your phone down on the bed next to you. You closed your eyes, not expecting to get a response anytime soon. You were wrong. Your phone buzzed immediately. You darted your head up and checked your phone.

joostklein: Do you still live in the same apartment?

fa3d0ll: What?

Read 2:13 pm

You turned your head into your pillow and let out a muffled scream. At Least you know, he didn’t change or he arguably got worse.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

You dozed off after your conversation; if you could even call it a conversation, with Joost. The amount of frustration this man had filled you with made you extremely exhausted. He had taken a toll on your body and mind. You were deep into your dreams until you were woken up by the loud buzz of your doorbell. You groaned and got up from the couch and shuffled to the intercom.

“Who is it?” You questioned

“Open up” A familiar muffled husky voice came from the other side

Whatever sleepiness you still had in your system from your nap had immediately slipped away. Your stomach turned and your blood turned cold. Without a second thought, you let him in. You stood in front of your door waiting to hear his heavy footsteps draw near. You slowly opened your apartment door, revealing the tall blonde man. You couldn’t read his expression, he looked pissed yet slightly amused. Once he stood on the last step; you fully opened the door, practically welcoming him into your home. He walked past you and took a look around. 

“Looks nothing like the last time I was here”

“I needed a change of scenery”

He let out a scoff before heading into your kitchen. He looked through a few cabinets before finding where you kept your mugs. He looked around and frowned when he couldn’t find what he was looking for. He turned back around to you and gave you those sad puppy eyes that made you melt.

“Even got rid of my favorite mug”

“I did put all your stuff in boxes for you to pick up ..but obviously you didn’t care enough to come get them” You spat back

He nodded and turned back around to the cabinet. He grabbed a random mug and placed it in the cup holder of your coffee maker. He grabbed a k cup and placed it into the machine. You watched his every move as he navigated through your kitchen like he owned it. He stood there with his back to you as he watched the coffee pour into the mug. Once it was all poured out, he grabbed the mug and turnt back to you. He took a sip and eyed you over the lip of the mug. You rolled your eyes at him.

“So why are you here?”

He took his time and slowly lowered the mug from his face. He let the dark liquid dance on his tongue before swallowing it. He gently places the mug down and looks back at you.

“I heard you were dating again”

You took not even half the amount of time it took him to respond back

“Yea no shit sherlock”

“And of all people, you picked my best friend.. Ouch”

“Do you think I knew that when I started speaking to him?”

“Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t”

“I didn’t! If I knew I would have stayed far away from him”

He clutched his chest and pretended to be hurt

“Wow that one stung”

“Fuck off!”

“As much as I would love to.. I am more interested in catching up”

He picked up the mug once more and walked slowly towards the couch, not once taking his eyes off you. You followed after him. He plopped down into the middle cushion and you sat beside the armrest. He placed the mug onto the coffee table in front of him. His eyes scanned over your body, a smirk painting over  his lips once he met your eyes.

“You look good”

‘Thanks..”

He inched slightly closer, enough for you to almost not notice.

“So besides Apson.. Who have been the lucky guys?”

You stayed silent

“Come on! I might be your ex but I gotta know”

“There are none..” You whispered

“What was that?” He pushed

“There are none” You said louder but still hushed

“I’m sorry I didn’t quite catch that”

“There was none! I haven’t seen anyone since you left!”

His cocky demeanor dropped, noticing just how much it hurt you to admit it. His smirk wa gonna and he somehow didn’t have a quick and snarky rebuttal. He cleared his throat and threw the persona back on.

“No wonder you chose Apson, you were desperate!”

That was your last straw. You stood from the couch and crossed your arms over your chest. You focused on a random corner in the room to try and avoid crying.

“Get out..”

“What?”

“Get the fuck out of my apartment!”

“Wait wait!.. Shit i’m sorry I shouldn't have said that.. Sit down please”

HIs voice was hushed and not even a drop of smugness was in sight. You sighed before obliging. Once sat on the couch you looked up at him. You nodded at him to continue speaking.

“Have you missed me at all?”

“No”

“Don’t lie”

He always knew exactly how to read you, no matter how much you didn’t want to admit it. He inched closer. You refused to look at him, hating how vulnerable this felt.

“I did at the beginning.. But I had to move on” You finally looked up at him with a new found sense of (fake) confidence. He gave you a disappointed look and a small nod. He looked away from you, letting his eyes wander around once more. The silence in the room was deafening. He turned back to you and opened his mouth like he was about to speak, but you beat him to the chase.

“What have you been doing since?”

“Working on my music.. I’ve been doing a couple festivals-”

“No girls?” You cut him off

He quickly shut his mouth. He looked down in his lap with a guilty look on his face. You scoffed and hugged your knees. He looked back up at you, the guilt completely taking over his body language.

“It's funny how you’re so quick to judge me for being single when you can’t settle”

He buried his face in his hands and sighed heavily, then looked up at you with a look of desperation. He leaned closer to you and placed a hand on your knee. You slightly pulled back.

“Shit that's not what.. Look.. What I meant was-”

“I have a sad love life.. No, I get your message loud and clear!”

“No not at all.. Fuck!”

He took a moment to collect himself before finally continuing his sentence

“I'm such a hypocrite for saying that.. I haven’t even looked at another girl since everything. Fuck, you got a one up on me for going on a date”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the way he sighed heavily. His eyes darted to the ground, avoiding your gaze, clearly torn. He looked back at your; His expression was a mix of regret and guilt. She crossed your arms, your posture stiffening as she watched him. your eyes narrowed, catching every subtle shift in his demeanor. your tongue poked the inside of your cheek, in disbelief of his words.

“You’re such a fucking liar”

“You really think I'm lying?” He stood up off the couch

She stood up as well

“Yea I do, there is no way that you; The one who walked out on me and was the ultimate bachelor before we got together, didn’t mess around  with a single person”

“Well there is a way!”

“There is no reason that would be true!”

“Well there is!”

“I’d love to hear it!”

“It's because I'm still in love with you!”

She froze, the response she had ready dying on your lips. your eyes widened, searching his face for any hint of insincerity, but she couldn’t find any. your breath hitched as she tried to process his words, your heart pounding in your chest. your hands, which had been clenched into fists, slowly relaxed, hanging limply by your sides. She took a step back then back in front of him.

She held eye contact with him, your breath catching as the tension between them grew so thick it was almost hard to breathe. Slowly, she moved closer, your pulse racing as the distance between them disappeared. His eyes flicked down to your lips, and without thinking, he moved the rest of the way, brushing your lips softly against his. The initial contact was hesitant, almost testy. He finally deepened the kiss, pulling you in with his hand on the small of your back. Your hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping him as if she was afraid he’d leave again. The bickering from before and heavy feelings had left. He pulled away and placed his hands on the sides of your face. He admired every inch of your face like it’d be the last time he’d get to look at it.

“I’ve missed you, Schat”

[ynbabe]

Fake texts au- pt.11 bffs with the rookies+ Melbourne in the summer

guys y/n's alr been doing so much idk how many more scandals I can come up with 😭 pls lemme know what situations yall would like to see these 4 in hehe 🫣 comment it or dm me my inbox is always open to yall 🥰

| Masterlist |

It had been a long few weeks before you could see your best friends once again, not having been able to attend any of the races for the rest till the summer break, but now? You were finally free and ready to cause problems for your favourite people.

You laughed to yourself as you landed at Melbourne Airport, having been to the Piastri household many times, so much so that his mother had begun putting a stocking out for you at Christmas, knowing that you'd probably be celebrating with the Aussies, much like Logan would be. He too had his own stocking.

You'd called his Mother beforehand, asking if it was okay to come over and she'd told you, she'd be keeping your favourite Shepard's pie ready. She'd also told you that Logan was staying over as well, having arrived with Oscar.

You remember all the times the three of you had spent in Oscar's room as teenagers, talking about everything and nothing at all them complaining and marvelling about racing, you listening and giving advice wherever you could. You went to them with all your problems and they to you.

You trusted each other with your deepest, darkest, secrets. You, Logan and Oscar, and then you met Arthur, and he had been an unlikely addition to your peculiar little group, but the three of you had soon come to realise just how similar the boy was, and decided it was only fair to adopt him into your weirdness.

"Two hours!" you whisper-yelled at yourself, looking at how much time you'd have to spend in the uber to get to the house, maybe more with traffic. So you did what you did best, just to pass the time.

You got out of the app, not knowing how much chaos could come from one simple tweet. Turning on some mind-numbing show on Netflix, you settled in till you could be with your best friends again.

The two hours went by faster than she realised as the Uber pulled up to the house, she told the driver to pull over, earning her a weird look. She paid him his fare and took her luggage right behind the house. Thankfully the old trellis was still there, a little rotten and overgrown with vines but still there.

She climbed up with practised ease, settling just outside her friend's window, where Oscar and Logan had been sharing the Aussies' room, just like when they were young.

She sat just outside the view of the two boys Logan who was sprawled on the bed scrolling through Instagram and Oscar on the fluffy mat right below, snacking on nachos, passing some to the American as they spoke.

She couldn't help but giggle, stopping as she almost slipped off the roof.

She pulled out her phone, trying not to fall to her death or alert the residents of the house.

She moved to see the boys' reaction, only to see him smiling, kicking his feet up.

"Oh my god, this is fucking adorable," she whispered to herself, clicking a picture, how they still hadn't noticed her was a mystery, weren't F1 drivers supposed to super attentive?

She went back to texting the unsuspecting boy.

"Huh?" you heard the boy whisper to himself, perfect, both were distracted, now was your chance.

You jumped through the open window, making the two jump and scream. It was high-pitched and loud, making the brunette's parents run up to their room.

"IS IT THE SPIDER AGAIN?" His mother yelled, "OH HELL, DID A SNAKE GET IN?" His father questioned, as they pushed open the door, eyes wide looking around their son's room, only to find the laughing girl and their boys standing on the far end of the bed, hiding behind one other.

"How do you always fall for that?" The girl asked laughing at the prank she had been playing on her friends since she started coming home with them from their races at 16.

"Oh, sweetie, how was your flight?" His mother said, pulling you in for a hug, she ruffled your hair a little as she held you at arm's length to look at you, "It's been far too long since you visited!" She smiled and said.

His father patted her shoulder as well, "Oscar, go get her bags." he said while walking out of the room, making the boy still in shock complain, "But dad,", "Now, Oscar!" Was the only reply that came, making the girl stick out her tongue at her friend.

"How are you my parent's favourite!?" He screamed walking out the door.

"Actually, it Y/n, me and theeeeen you," Logan spread gasoline on the fire, "SHUT UP LOGAN," the boy threw a few nacho chips at the blond.

The girl let herself fall on the bed, taking Logan's phone off the charger, the boy followed suit, resting his head on her stomach, the girl lowering her phone so he could see what she was seeing as well.

She opened Twitter to find her simple tweet had practically gone viral.

"Doesn't that bother you?" he asked making the girl raise her brow, "All these people who don't even know you and they hate you,"

She hummed as she wrapped a coil of blond hair around her finger, letting it loose and moving onto another, "I mean not really?" she started, "Sure it hurts when they call me just for hanging out with yall but it doesn't matter much cause at the end of the day I'm hanging out with yall," she explained, "It'd matter if y'all said something cause you know, you know me, but these don't mean shit, bruv," she said further, showing him the screen, where someone had suggested a club.

"Sounds good," he replied, beginning to doze off.

The flight had taken a lot out of the young girl, the jet lag finally catching up, "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU HAVE IN THESE BAGS-", Oscar yelled as he walked into the room but quickly shut up as he saw his friends fast asleep. He pulled out his phone and quickly took a photo of the two for blackmail reasons and pulled a blanket over them.

Why he had to sleep on an air mattress, on the floor, in his own house, was a mystery to him but all of them had grown used to unpredictable chaos when they were together.

what i wouldn't do to have her life 😮‍💨 also next Y/n and Arthur get home aloned and his brothers go through the 5 stages of grief thinking they'd gotten their 20-year-old brother and his friend kidnapped.

Taglist: @dark-night-sky-99 @cashtons-wife @i-wish-this-was-me @thehufflepuffavenger1 @eugene-emt-roe @fangirl-dot-com @landosgirlxoxo @aquangxl @sachaa-ff

[jessicaloons]

Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince:

Chapter 3

Masterlist - Previous - Next

Miss Americana

October 2022:

"… and then Miss Larimer said that we can pet the puppies…" Gabriel said excitedly, jumping up and down "They are so cute, Rach, I swear! I want one! Do you help me to convince dad to get me one? Pleeeaseee?"

Rachel only listened half-heartedly, reading the text on her phone while unlocking the car.

"Rachel! Please! I swear I’ll always eat my veggies, brush my teeth and go to bed when you tell me to, for the rest of my life! Please!" the little boy kept going but his nanny still didn’t react, her eyes still trained on her phone "RACHEL!"

She flinched looking into the rear view mirror at Gabriel who rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, what did you say?" she stuttered, trying to calm herself down.

"I said that Miss Larimer brought her puppies to school today and we could pet them and they were so cute and I want one! Can you help me to convince dad?" she saw her own set of puppy eyes in the mirror and laughed.

"Your dad is allergic to dogs, Gabe. You know that… are you buckled in?" Rachel started the car, driving off the parking lot, after Gabe nodded.

"That sucks…" the boy puffed out, looking out of the window, watching the boats and yachts in the harbour "One day I want to be a vet and then I can hang out with animals all day long."

"A vet? That’s an amazing idea, Gabe!" Rachel smiled and he nodded "And I’m sure you’d be an amazing vet!"

"You think so?" the blonde boy asked, making big eyes.

"Are you kidding me? Do you remember when we were at the zoo and you weren’t afraid to hold the snakes? Or touch the tarantulas! You even held up this definitely not cute looking lizard and cooed at it like it’s a sweet, fluffy puppy." the nanny recalled and Gabe smiled, thinking back to their trip to the zoo a couple of weeks ago.

"All animals are cute somehow." he shrugged and Rachel chuckled.

"See? You would be a perfect vet."

"You’re taking care of people and I’m taking care of animals. We’re both lifesavers!"

"Oh well, I’m not there yet. I only started my practical studies 6 months ago… as of now I’m not a lifesaver…"

"Yet. You’ll get there." Gabe chimed in and Rachel nodded.

"I will."

The rest of the car ride was spent in silence and when they arrived at home Gabe sat down at the kitchen island, starting with his homework.

"I’m back in a minute and then I make you a snack before we leave…" she said more to herself and walked out the back door, hastily making her way into her little studio.

She closed the door, pulling out her phone. With trembling hands she opened up the messages she got earlier.

I was at your university today.

According to your schedule you sent us you should’ve been there.

Where were you?

Also, isn’t it interesting that in the dormitory you’re supposed to live no one knows you?

Where the fuck are you, Rachel.

Tony. He was here. With trembling fingers Rachel dialled Stuart’s number.

"Hey Rach…"

"The app that’s blocking others from tracing my phone works, right?" Rachel cut him off and there was silence, the girl thinking her friends might’ve hung up on her "Stuart?"

"Yes. Of course? What’s going on?" her friend sounded concerned "Where are you?"

"At home. But-… they’re here. They checked in on me. But I wasn’t at university, because I didn’t update them on my new schedule… they won’t like that I specialised on paediatric… they were at my dormitory-…"

"Your dormitory? You don’t live here?"

"Yeah, but I didn’t tell them… I said that I was living at St. Julie Hall, they shouldn’t know that I saved a shit ton of money because I work and live outside of campus…" Rachel breathed out.

"Ignore it. You were at the hospital today. Answer tonight. Say that you moved to a different dorm and thought that you told them but must’ve forgot…" Stuart suggested.

"And what if they decide to come back?" her voice barely above a whisper.

"We’ll figure it out."

"They can’t find out about Gabe and Peter…"

"They won’t. Rach, they can’t track your phone. The only location they will get is the campus or the hospital, Marcus took care of it. You have a good excuse. It’s going to be fine, okay?" Stuart reassured Rachel, who took a deep breath.

"I have to take Gabe to his soccer practice now." she got up, checking herself in the mirror.

"Okay… take care Rach, and if you need anything, call, text, whatever…"

"Thanks Stu."

Rachel was tense and on alert the whole afternoon, looking around, searching the park and parking lot for someone from home, but thankfully she didn’t spot anything out of the ordinary. When she stood in the kitchen, preparing dinner, her phone rang and she took a deep breath, before she answered the call.

"Rachel?" her father.

"What’s up dad?"

"Don’t what’s up dad me! Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer your phone?" he was mad.

"What are you talking about? I just left the hospital when you called? I had a training shift today." Rachel lied, trying to sound confused and annoyed at the same time.

"You were at the hospital? Not on the campus?"

"No. I have more and more training shifts now, I’m getting my practical hours in now and I swear I love it." fake excitement.

"That’s good to hear, Rach… but Tony said it was weird that no one knew you in your dorm…"

"What? Why was Tony at my dorm?"

"He wanted to check in on you-…"

"Why? We had a deal! I’m allowed to finish my studies and not be bothered!"

"I don’t know, okay? He came over and told me that he visited you… something about checking in on their investment…-"

"Their investment? I’m here on a scholarship! None of you is investing anything in my education! I have a deal with his father. And I have no problem in calling him and telling him the deal is off the table if you lot don’t hold your end of the bargain!" Rachel was furious and didn’t even had to fake it.

"I don’t think his father knew that he was visiting you… Tony just stormed in here and told me that you weren’t at the campus and no one knew you at your dorm-…"

"Because I moved! When I came back after the summer a fellow student told me that there is an open spot at Fennell Hall, the dormitory right on campus. She knows the RA and so I got the spot. It’s a little more expensive but I only need 5 minutes to classes now. I told you that!"

"You did?" her fathers voice faltered.

"Yeah, right after my first week back. It’s a new term and when I came back I didn’t know most of the students in my old dormitory anyway, so I thought a change would be nice." Rachel said casually, when she saw Gabe getting off the sofa "Listen dad, it’s been a damn long day, I’ve been awake since 5 am. I just want to drive home, take a shower and sleep. Are we done here?" she fake yawned, hoping her father would believe her.

"Yeah… sure. Take care, Rachel." he said and Rachel thanked the universe for making him believe her.

"Will do. Good night dad." she hung up, right when Gabe sat down at the kitchen island, sniffling the air. She calmed herself down, smiling at the young boy.

"Smells good, what is it?" he asked.

"It’s a beef stew, here, have a taste." she scooped up some of the stew and blew cold air on it while Gabe walked around the island "Careful, it might be still a little hot."

The young boy chewed his food, making big eyes, swallowing his bite down.

"That’s good!" he exclaimed and his nanny smiled "Will dad be here to eat with us?"

"He said he will."

"Good. I want to tell him that I want to be a vet when I grow up."

"A vet? Where did that come from?" Peter walked into the kitchen, loosening his tie "What happened to rocket scientist?"

"As a vet I can hang out with animals all day long…" Gabe shrugged taking the plates from Rachel, setting the table.

"Well that’s true." his father laughed, squeezing his nanny’s arm "Are you okay, Rach? You’re a little pale?"

"I’m fine, it’s just a lot right now, everyone is starting to prepare for the exams…"

"Already? Wait? When are the exams?" he looked confused.

"We still got time, but yeah. Preparation is key, that’s what our professors love to say." Rachel rolled her eyes and Pete laughed, getting himself a beer.

"I can’t believe that in not even 8 months you’re done. God where do I find another amazing nanny just like you again?" he pouted, sitting down on a stool "A nanny that can cook like you!"

"Why don’t you stay with us forever?" Gabe looked at his nanny "I don’t want you to go."

"Believe me, Gabe, I don’t want to either, but when I’m done, I’m a nurse, I’ll have to take over so many shifts and I just wouldn’t have enough time for you." Rachel ruffled his hair a little.

"But you come visit us? Right?" he asked and she swallowed hard, nodding.

"Of course, little one." Rachel lied, feeling sick doing so.

The girl was quiet during dinner, listening to Gabe and his father, enjoying the family time. She knew that as soon as she graduated she would be gone. Telling Peter a half truth why she had to leave so fast, promising to stay in touch, knowing it would all be nothing but lies. She dreaded that day, over the past years she really grew close to the father son duo, loved them wholeheartedly. But she couldn’t risk them getting into harms way. And she wouldn’t do it. But she knew that leaving them behind would break her heart. And when she sat down with Gabe after dinner, all cuddled up on the sofa, watching cartoons, the first crack in her heart already formed.

"I’m going to miss you so much… you’re my best friend." Gabe whispered, making Rachel close her eyes, trying her best to not cry.

"I’ll miss you too, buddy, so damn much."

June 2023:

With her diploma in hand, Rachel walked off the stage, waving at Peter and Gabriel, the only ones to attend her graduation. After shaking some more hands and joining her fellow graduates for the hat toss, she walked over to Peter and Gabriel. The boy running up to his nanny, hugging her tight.

"We’re so proud of you Rachel!" Peter said, hugging her as well "Valedictorian. Wow. Amazing."

"Thank you for coming." the young girl blushed a little, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Are you kidding me? We would never miss this opportunity!" Peter smiled "And now, I’d love to take you out for dinner, if you haven’t planned anything yet? You didn’t say that you would celebrate afterwards so I reserved a table at La Chabelle just in case."

"Oh wow, Peter! You didn’t have to." Rachel blushed even more.

"You worked so hard over the last four years. You deserve a treat!"

"Okay…" Rachel began when she felt her phone vibrate "I umm- I just want to say goodbye to a few of my classmates and then we can leave."

"Okay, we’re waiting by the car." Peter and Gabriel walked off and Rachel took out her phone, reading the text.

"Rach-…" Stuart grabbed her shoulder, making her flinch "Hey, it’s me. Sorry! I didn’t want to scare you."

"I need to leave as soon as possible." she just said and Stuart looked confused "Here…" she shoved him her phone in his hands and he read the text.

"Next Friday? Didn’t you say that your graduation is on Friday?"

"They want me to come back immediately after. They’re sending someone to help me with my stuff… I have to play my part to make them believe I’m still here. They can’t know that I’m gone. They would send someone after me immediately. I should leave now. Yes. I’m leaving now."

"Okay, take a deep breath for me. Look at me Rach. I call my contact person and tell them you’re coming earlier than planned. But for tonight you’re going with Peter and Gabriel to La Chabelle, you’re enjoying your last night here. I’ll go to your place and start packing your stuff, we’ll figure it out okay?"

"But what will I tell Peter and Gabe? I have to tell Peter the truth. I planned it all out. Fuck this is ruining everything! But he has to know that I’m leaving. I can’t just disappear…"

"You will tell him tonight. It’s fine."

"Okay-… I- I have to go now, they’re waiting for me." Rachel looked towards the parking lot and Stuart nodded.

"You go, I take care of the rest. It’s going to be fine, you’ll see." he reassured the blonde girl and she nodded, then she pulled him in a tight hug.

"Thank you Stu, for everything. You’re a true friend…"

"It’s okay Rach, really. Now go."

With one last look she walked off, towards the sleek, black Mercedes of her boss, getting in as soon as she reached it.

"Ready?" Peter asked and Rachel nodded.

"Ready."

"Me too!" Gabe said from the backseat and they laughed.

"Then let’s go." Peter steered the car onto the busy road, driving across town and stopped in front of La Chabelle.

"Good night, buddy." Rachel kissed the young boys forehead, ruffling his hair while getting up.

"Good night…" Gabe mumbled, almost drifting off to sleep immediately.

The nanny carefully walked over to the door, quietly opening it before turning around once more, looking at the boy she took care of for the last 4 years. All the memories of the past years came to her mind. She felt her heart ache, not ready to say her final goodbye, although deep down she knew she had to. In order to keep Gabe and his dad safe, Rachel had to disappear. She took a deep breath and quietly closed the door, gathering herself for the conversation she would now have with her boss of the last 4 years. Peter was amazing. He paid Rachel more than well, took her and Gabe on little trips here and there. Always treated her like a part of the family, rather than a subordinate. She would miss him as well.

"Rach? Can we talk?" the girl flinched when her boss appeared out of nowhere in front of her, stopping her train of thoughts.

"Umm-… sure, I actually wanted to talk to you as well…" she gulped, following him downstairs.

"Yeah?" Peter replied and pointed to the sofa "You want a drink? Because I sure as hell need one…" he poured himself a glass of scotch, before looking at his nanny "Oh I forgot, scotch tastes like washing detergent, was it?"

"Yeah…" Rachel chuckled, accepting the can of coke her boss handed her "So- umm… about what did you want to talk to me?"

"Gabe and I… we’ll leave next week…" he blurted out, rubbing his neck, and Rachel tilted her head a little "Of course you’re free to stay until the end of the month in the studio, as we agreed on. But Gabe and I, we won’t be here until then…"

"You’re going on vacation?" the girl asked, although she was sure that she would’ve known if her boss had planned something.

"No. Not on vacation. Rachel, Gabe and I, we’re moving to Austin. I got a new job there…"

"Wow! That’s amazing!" a big smile spread on Rachel’s face, in Austin they would be safe "You didn’t tell me that you were looking for a new job? But I’m so happy for you!"

"Yeah, it was… well my boss contacted me out of the blue last week and offered me the job… they need me there as soon as possible… but this job, it’s the opportunity of a lifetime, you know?"

"Sounds amazing and I think Gabe will love it, he can become a real cowboy then…" the girl laughed, looking at the man in front of her, a serious look on his face "It’s going to be fine, just don’t let him alone with a horse for too long or you have to buy it!"

"Yeah… probably." Peter smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

"Okay, what’s wrong?" Rachel asked, looking at him intently.

"Is it too rushed? I don’t know how Gabe will take it? All his friends are here? Tearing him away from everything familiar?"

"You know your son, he can deal with everything. He will find new friends in no time, don’t worry!"

"Yeah, you’re right…" he sighed a little, scratching his chin "And what is it you wanted to talk about?"

"Oh- umm… I wanted to say that some friends asked me if I wanted to join them on a little trip… we would leave in the next days, I don’t know when exactly. I know, it’s a little spontaneous, but yeah…" Rachel lied, smiling innocently.

"Sounds wonderful! You should go, Gabe and I will be fine… we need to get used to a life without you now anyways! Unless you want to join us in Austin?" he smiled, a tinge of hope in his voice.

"As much as I appreciate the offer, I already have some job interviews lined up here, so…"

"Understandable, but you know that you’re always more than welcome!" Peter said and the girl nodded.

"I know Pete, and I really appreciate it…" she got up "I guess it’s time for me to pack my stuff then, maybe Stu can come in tomorrow and help me with it, so I don’t have to worry about it after I come back and you’re long gone…"

"Right, yeah… will you help me tell Gabe tomorrow?"

"Of course!" she smiled and kissed his cheek "Good night, Pete. Best boss in the world…"

"Night Rach, best nanny in the world…"

She chuckled and left the living room, through the kitchen and out into the backyard, the light in her studio already switched on.

"Please tell me that everything is arranged?" Rachel asked as soon as she closed the door behind her.

"Everything done." Stuart replied and she looked around her room.

Her life fitted into 2 cardboard boxes, a suitcase and a backpack.

"That’s all?" she mumbled and her friend nodded "I can’t take the boxes with me…"

"I know… I put all your personal belongings, pictures, books and stuff like that in your suitcase… the boxes is stuff you won’t need anymore, also some clothes I don’t want to see you ever in again…"

"Ouch, thanks…" Rachel chuckled "When am I leaving?"

"Sunday morning."

Rachel looked out of the window, as the plane slowly made its way higher up into the sky. She looked back one last time at her home. She knew, would she ever return, it wouldn’t be by her free will, she would be forced. It meant they found her and she had to make sure that that would never happen. She leaned back, closing her eyes. She still felt her heart ache, thinking at Gabe’s tear stricken face, but she knew that what she did was right. In two days they would be gone as well. Far away from Boston. Gone. No one would know she ever worked for Peter Hastings. No one would ever bother them. No one would know she’s gone until next Friday.

And when they would try to figure out where she was, when they followed her trace, she’ll be long gone. All planned out by Stuart. Rachel didn’t know what would happen to her old life, she didn’t ask. She didn’t want to know. But one thing was for sure, as soon as she would land in Montreal the life of Rachel Lombardi would end.

Chapter 3 - Goodbye Rachel’s old life, this looks like the start of something new… I know I’m rushing a little through the timeline here with big time jumps, but this is all just backstory to prepare you and our characters for the main plot, so please, bear with me 😅

Please leave a comment/ like/ reblog/ message and tell me how you liked it! I'm dying to hear your thoughts!

If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment!

Last but not least, English is not my first language and although I tried my best: please excuse any mistakes I made!

Taglist:

@glitterquadricorn @lottalove4evelyn @janeh22 @itsjustkhaos

[lulublack90]

Prompt - Ticket

@jegulus-microfic December 29 Word count 671

“Where’s my ticket?” James grumbled as he scrolled through hundreds of emails, trying to find it. He kept every single email he ever got. It drove Remus mad. “I swear it was so much easier when they sent you an actual real-life ticket.” He was still grumbling at his phone.

“It was only easier for you, James because they got sent to me, so you never had to worry where you put it. Honestly, if you’d had them we’d never have gone to any concerts.” Remus huffed. 

James was still scrolling, only half listening to Remus. Remus had had enough. He plucked James’s phone out of his hand and used the search option in the email app. “There you go, and I’ve sent it over to my account as well and taken a screenshot of it. You have zero way of losing it now.” Remus looked up, “Though knowing you, you’ll still manage.” James chuckled fondly.

“Yeah, yeah. You love me, I know. Right, are we ready then?”

Remus grabbed James’s keys and wallet and locked up the flat before they set off for the bus stop. 

It didn’t take them long to get to the venue. They were seeing a relatively new band, Fighting the Stars.

They somehow managed to get stood at the front of the crowd, almost touching the stage. 

The band emerged from the sides, and the plinks and bangs of instrument checks started. Then, a long-haired, skinny man walked to the microphone. Remus let out a small gasp. 

“Hello,” He said, his voice silky and smooth. “I’m Sirius, and this,” He gestured to the man with the guitar standing in shadow. “Is my brother Regulus, and we,” He swung his arms to show the rest of the band. “Are Fighting the Stars!”

They started playing. They were good, really good. James was bobbing along and enjoying the dramatic movements of Sirius as he belted out the lyrics. He turned to Remus to see what he thought. But he was stood still, his eyes locked on Sirius, enchanted.

James rolled his eyes and went back to watching the stage. Sirius had pulled the mic out of the stand and was trying to drag his brother forward. There was a slight scuffle between them. Neither missed a word or a chord, but in the end, Sirius won. Regulus wandered into the light. James felt his jaw drop. He didn’t think it was a real thing, just something films did to the main characters. But it happened. 

Regulus caught him staring. He raised his eyebrows and gave him a little knowing smirk before winking at him. 

James and Remus spent the rest of the set spellbound, unable to move. 

Sirius called goodnight to the crowd as the band walked off stage. James and Remus’s heads followed the brothers until they were out of sight. They both let out a huff of air like they’d forgotten to breathe. 

“Well, that was something,” James murmured. Remus couldn’t talk at all and just nodded. 

Before they could say anything else, Sirius’s head popped back around the curtain. He looked right at Remus, waved and beckoned him over. Remus turned to James and shrugged his shoulders before scrambling up onto the stage and disappearing with Sirius. 

James looked at the shadowy exit Remus left through, hoping, then sighed and pulled out his phone to text Remus that he was going home. When he looked back up, Regulus was watching him, barely visible. He didn’t come out past the curtain as Sirius had. James felt his heart skip a beat. Yet another film moment he hadn’t realised was real. 

Regulus crooked one finger at him. As though an invisible line was attached to his navel tugging him forward and towards the waiting Regulus, he started walking. 

Oh well, he thought, I couldn’t have gone home anyway. Remus has my keys.

He followed Regulus into the back. He didn’t know if it was a good or a bad idea, but he was doing it anyway.  

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Taste of You"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 4552

Tags: Fresh AU, dark rom-com, dark!Bucky, pre-serum Steve, cannibalism, kidnapping, yandere/basement wife, meet cute-ish, gay sex n' stuff, dub-con bordering on non-con, ignoring of sexual boundaries

Summary: Steve is so tired of the meat market that modern dating has become. Just when he's deleted all the apps and given up on ever finding Mr. Right, he meets the perfect guy at the grocery store.

A dark, cute, funny, fucked up, and very tasty love story.

It's a Fresh AU. "If you can't handle the cannibalism, get out of the kitchen" ... or something like that

7. Sous Vide

Wait! I haven't read a previous chapter. Story Masterlist

Steve

For the first twenty-four hours, Steve alternates between crying, screaming, and sometimes even laughing. And his thoughts run a gamut twice as large.

8 hours in: This can’t be happening. Steve is so fucking stupid. He deserves what he gets. He’s not ready to die. He should find a way to kill himself. Maybe he can seduce James into letting him go.

12 hours in: Fuck James! Steve’s going to kill him. He doesn’t know how, but he is totally going to murder the shit out of him! What’s in the room, there must be something that he can use…

16 hours: Why is there NOTHING in this room that is useful?! Fuck, he’s screwed. Why did Steve have to go snooping in the basement? He can’t believe he was actually attracted to a serial killer. He fucked a serial killer. What does that say about him? Clint wouldn’t have fallen for this shit. Fuck. Steve never texted him. Ha—he won’t know where to send the cops to find his body after all.

18 hours: Is he going to go insane? Maybe. Maybe it’ll be better if he does. Which part of him will James try to cut off first? Steve thinks he’d rather keep his arms than his legs. If he had to choose that is. Who was that woman in the other cell? What did she lose first? Why isn’t she answering him when he yells out? Can she not hear him? Maybe she’s just crazy. How long has she been here? How long is Steve going to be here before he dies? Oh god, he doesn’t want to wind up like her!

20 hours: That must’ve been human meat up in the fridge. And Steve asked Bucky to make dinner with it. A rump roast. They would’ve been eating somebody’s ass for dinner.

24 hours: Holy fucking shit, is he ever stupid.

“Can I get you anything?” James asks him the third time he visits.

The first time he’d come, Steve had screamed and thrown hysterics until it drove James away.

The second time, he’d done nothing but cry softly and beg to be let go, as James told him what it is he does for a living.

The third time he just sits there and stares like a zombie. James doesn’t seem to like that. He comes over and feels Steve’s forehead, takes his pulse. Steve gasps and jerks away, huddling himself into the corner. James lets him go with a sad expression. “You need to try and calm down, honey,” he says. “I hate to see you suffering.”

Steve stares at him with wide eyes. “Are you gonna kill me?” he asks. He’s been thinking about it all day and night. He can’t get the image of that woman out of his head. “Are you gonna…” eat me?

James is shaking his head. “No, Steve. I told you: I don’t want to hurt you.”

Steve blinks. He only has fuzzy memories of the last two visits. He knows that James had stayed, especially that second time, knows that he’d sat and talked to Steve. But Steve is having a hard time remembering all the facts. He’d been out of his mind with emotion, not taking it all in. “I don’t remember,” he murmurs, nervous. “I… I don’t remember everything you said.”

James smiles sadly at him. “Okay. That’s understandable.” He goes and sits down on a metal stool that’s connected to the floor. It’s part of a little vanity set that Steve is unable to reach from his chained position by the bed. Steve’s got no clue why it’s there, if he can’t even reach it. He’s spent time wondering if the mirror is glass, and if he could break it and use a shard of it to murder James. “I’ll answer any questions you have,” James is offering amicably, breaking Steve out of his murderous thoughts. “What do you want to know?”

“I don’t want to die,” Steve whispers.

“You’re not going to die,” James tells him, a little exasperation creeping into his voice. “Stevie, you’re not listening: I am not going to kill you. I didn’t bring you here for work.”

Work. Steve rolls the word over in his mind. James is a serial killer. He kills people and eats them. Well, mostly he sells their meat to other people to eat them. But that doesn’t make it any better! Steve tries to read James’ face for a lie. He doesn’t believe him when he says he’s not going to kill Steve. Of course he’s going to kill Steve. He has to, now that Steve knows his secret.

Steve is so fucking stupid.

“Just… just do it fast,” Steve begs. He thinks of the limbless woman several cells down. He doesn’t know if she’s still alive. He hopes not. “Do it all at once, please. Don’t… don’t make me like her.”

James looks pained. “I know you don’t believe me, honey. But in time you’ll see. I really didn’t mean for you to wind up down here.” He smiles softly at him, which is equal parts sweet and disturbing. “I really do care for you Steve. I was looking forward to what we could have together. I still am. We can get past this, and in the end it’ll only have made our relationship stronger.”

Steve stares. James really means it. He actually thinks they’re still going to be boyfriends. Steve remembers that conversation they’d had in the car, how happy he’d been when James had taken his hand and confirmed their relationship status. Steve thinks of all the personal things he’s told James, all the times they’ve made love, laughed with each other; he thinks of how much he’d come to feel for James. Fuck, it’s awful. Steve feels betrayed. His Mr. Right is a cannibal serial killer. It’s not fucking fair. “I’m not ever going to be with you again,” he tells him blankly. He can’t believe he actually has to explain this. “James, you eat people.”

James sighs like that’s small potatoes. “I’m still me. I’m still that guy you met at the grocery store.”

Steve blinks, thinking about their encounter in the meat department, James holding out the package of venison with an expression of disgust and proclaiming himself a vegetarian. The hilarity of it hits Steve all of a sudden, and he starts to giggle.

James is watching him with a look of concern. “Steve?”

Steve shakes his head, the laughter growing and growing, and he keeps laughing until he folds over with it. It turns into a sob. He squeezes his eyes shut, overwhelmed. “Sorry,” he whispers, shaking his head. “Sorry, I just… I’m panicking, a little.”

It’s quiet for a long moment, and then Steve gasps as the mattress dips and James is right there, pulling him into his arms. Steve struggles, pushing against him. “No!”

But James hushes him and hugs him tightly, and Steve can’t get away. “Shh sh sh,” James says. “It’s okay, I know you’re scared, Steve. I know. It’s gonna be okay. You’ll see. It’s all going to be just fine.”

It really isn’t, but Steve doesn’t know what else to do besides cry. James holds him through it and eventually lays him down on the mattress, kissing his tear stained cheek. “Rest,” he murmurs, and he gets up and leaves.

The fourth time James comes into his cell, Steve has formed a loose plan. He’s not going to panic anymore. He’s going to be productive. He’s going to gain James’ trust, make him believe that Steve loves him and won’t run away. Then, when he gets his chance, he’ll kill James and escape. There’s no other option. This is what he has to do.

“Hey,” James says, looking cautious as he swipes the keycard that unlocks the room’s slatted door. He slides it open and steps inside. He’s got another tray of food. “Brought you some lunch.”

Steve watches as he sets the tray onto the floor and gives it a push towards him. His stomach rumbles loudly—he hasn’t eaten since James locked him in here. The first few meals got thrown in fits of rage and desperation, the ones after that simply ignored and refused. But Steve obviously isn’t the first captive to try going on a hunger strike, and James has kept patiently bringing trays for every mealtime. Now Steve has a new game plan, and he pulls the tray over and picks up the silicone spoon (not even plastic utensils. This guy really is careful). He looks over the food and then glances at James. “...This is all… it’s vegetarian, right?” he checks.

James knows what he’s really asking, and he nods. “Yeah. Just chicken noodle,” he says gently.

Steve decides to believe him. He brings a spoonful of the soup to his lips, blows on it, swallows. It’s not bad, and he’s 99.9% sure that those are chunks of chicken floating in the broth.

James takes a seat on the metal stool and watches him eat the meal. “You’re calmer today,” he observes.

Steve shrugs, playing it cool. “Yeah,” he simply says. “I had time to think it over.”

“Yeah?” James sounds hopeful. “Okay. That’s good. Do you need anything?”

He asks that every time he visits Steve. So far Steve has only ever yelled or cried or remained totally silent in response. “Books?” he says this time, meeting James’ eyes. James looks surprised. “I don’t know how long I’ve been down here,” Steve says. “It gets boring.”

James smiles tentatively. “Just a little over a day, now. Yeah, honey. I can bring you books.”

“Okay,” Steve says. He goes on eating the soup. There’s a little hunk of a baguette with it. He tears off a piece and dips it into the broth, pops it into his mouth and chews. “Thank you.”

James leaves shortly after that, and within what feels like a few hours, Steve is supplied with a whole cart full of books. “I didn’t know what you liked,” James says sheepishly as Steve looks over the titles. “Hope this is good enough.”

“It’s great,” Steve says. He actually wasn’t expecting so many, or such a good selection. “Thank you.”

James looks very pleased. He takes a step closer and leans down, reaches out like he’ll touch him. Steve flinches and James’ face falls.

“Sorry,” Steve mutters, cursing himself for the reaction. “I’m sorry James. This is just…” he sighs. “It’s scary, you know?”

James nods. “Bucky,” he says.

“What?”

“Bucky.” He comes close again and kneels down. He takes Steve’s hand in his. It’s the one that’s chained to the floor. “My name.”

“Your name isn’t James?” Steve doesn’t know why he finds that so disappointing. It shouldn’t matter, but he’d hoped that he’d at least been getting to know the real man, before the other shoe dropped. Apparently not. It just figures that the one decent guy Steve manages to meet would turn out to be a psycho.

“No, it is. James Buchanan Barnes,” James says. “My sister started it, back when we were kids. She couldn’t say Buchanan, so,” he shrugs. “Bucky.”

Steve gapes. “Wait, you really do have a sister? You weren’t just making that up?”

James—or Bucky, apparently—looks hurt. “No, I wasn’t making it up. I never lied to you, Steve.”

Steve can’t help it, he laughs meanly. “Yeah right. You said there was nothing down here but storage,” he snaps, yanking his hand back from Bucky’s grip. “You’re a serial killer!”

“I didn’t lie to you about who I am,” Bucky says sternly. “I’m still the same person, Steve. Everything we had together was real. It still is.” He puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder and grips him. “I still care about you.”

Steve swallows heavily, wondering if his face is neutral. He’s trying to keep it that way, but it’s hard when all he feels is horror, disappointment and disgust. At least he’s managed not to yank himself away from Bucky’s grip on him. “Bucky,” he says, trying the name out. It seems to fit, and James looks very pleased when he uses it. Steve nods. “Okay. Bucky it is.”

Bucky smiles. “I knew you were special,” he says happily. But when Steve doesn’t react, he gets despondent again. “I didn’t want this for you,” he says, releasing Steve’s shoulder. “I wanted us to be happy together.”

Steve frowns. “How was that going to work?” he asks. “Don’t you think I would’ve found out about this eventually?”

Bucky nods. “Well yeah. But not like this. I was going to tell you, eventually. But I was gonna break it to you slowly.”

Steve fights the urge to laugh like a maniac. “Oh? How does one break that kind of news slowly?”

“I know it’s a lot. And it’s shocking.”

“Gee, you think?” Steve quips.

Bucky laughs, Steve’s levity putting him at ease. He sits down on the floor, crossing his legs. “It's so different from what people think. God, if you only knew, Steve. Knew what it was really like.”

Steve shivers at how dreamily Bucky says that. He has to work up the courage to say, “Tell me?”

Bucky looks surprised that he’s asking, but then his eyes sharpen on him, evaluating. He’s suspicious. “Why do you want to know?” he asks.

Steve shrugs and tries to act like it’s no big deal. “I dunno. Just curious I guess. What it tastes like, why you even want to do it.” He peeks up at Bucky. “Why do you?”

For a moment, it doesn’t seem like Bucky’s going to answer. But then he says, “It’s not just about food, or eating. It’s…” he pauses, staring at Steve in an evaluating way, like he’s not sure Steve will get it. “It’s about giving,” he eventually says, watching Steve carefully. “Giving yourself over to somebody. Becoming one with somebody else, forever. And that’s…” he shakes his head, reverent. “That’s a beautiful thing. That’s surrender. That’s true intimacy.”

Steve gulps, suddenly hoping that his lunch stays down for this conversation. “But…” he breathes. “But they don’t do it willingly.”

Bucky’s eyes lose their gleam. He looks away. “No,” he says quietly. “No, they don’t.” He doesn’t expound on that, and Steve doesn’t dare to ask any more questions. Bucky sighs and moves on. “As for how it tastes, well…” the corners of his mouth curl up, and when he meets Steve’s eyes again, it’s terrifying. “If it’s done right? It’s like nothing you’ve ever tasted before. It’s fucking exquisite.”

Steve thinks of the story Bucky had told, about the villagers in China; the mystery meat. He knows now that it must’ve been true. That was probably the first time Bucky had ever tasted human flesh. And he’d liked it. Steve shivers. “And you know lots of other people who do this?” he asks. "Enough to run a whole business off of?"

A cannibal cabal, Christ.

Bucky nods. “My clients; they like to eat women, specifically. Because it’s a sexual thing for them, you know?” He shrugs. “I don’t think women actually taste better, but whatever. I’m here to satisfy the customer.” He tilts his head and squints at Steve. “You know, if you wanted to try it…”

“No,” Steve says, knowing that his acting abilities don’t extend that far. He shakes his head. “I can’t. Please.”

Bucky looks disappointed, but he accepts it. “Okay,” he says softly. “Don’t worry. I won’t make you.” He moves closer, kneeling right in front of Steve and looking at him tenderly. He puts both hands on his shoulders. Steve fights not to recoil. “Steve,” Bucky says softly, voice full of emotion. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I wish I could have you upstairs with me, I really do. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Steve swallows dryly. “What are you gonna do?”

Bucky stares at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he leans in and kisses him on the mouth. He pulls back and watches Steve’s expression. “I don’t know,” he says softly. “I want to keep you, I do. I don't want to have to hurt you. I want to date you, like we were doing.”

Steve shivers under Bucky’s scrutiny. This guy is whacked. “...But?” he asks.

Bucky shakes his head sadly. He pulls back and rises to his feet. “I don’t know,” he says. “I just don’t know.” He walks back over to the door. “I’ve always dreamed of finding someone who I could share this with, you know? Someone I could really trust and share absolutely everything with. Because it gets lonely, ya know? Having this part of myself that I can’t share with a partner."

Steve stares, incredulous at Bucky’s capacity for delusion. “You said you were married,” he says, suddenly remembering. “What happened to him?” Bucky’s expression shutters and he looks away, and that’s all the answer that Steve needs. “You killed him,” Steve whispers, horrified.

Bucky turns away. “I told you we didn’t see eye to eye on things. It just wasn’t meant to be.”

Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. “So you ate him?”

“No,” Bucky says sharply, looking back over his shoulder at Steve with something like resentment. “I would never eat someone I loved.”

Steve starts to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Not without their consent.”

Steve’s eyes bug out of his head.

Bucky shakes his head as he notices Steve’s expression. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be different with us. You'll see. It’ll take time, I know that now. But maybe in the long run it’s good that you found out this soon. Now we can just work on moving past it.”

Steve blinks at him. Keep your face calm, keep your face calm, don’t make a face, relaxrelaxrelax—

Bucky sighs and steps out of the cell. “I’ll be back later with your dinner, okay?” He slides the door shut. The electric keypad beeps. He gives Steve one last bittersweet look of affection through the wooden slats. “Try to relax. Get some rest. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Steve watches him leave, hears him take the steps back upstairs, opening and closing the door up there, more electronic locks beeping. Once Steve’s positive that he’s alone again, he inhales hugely and lets it out in a long, slow exhale. “Fuck,” he whispers, overwhelmed. This is not going to be easy.

Bucky

Bucky finds himself feeling melancholy as the day wears on. He thinks about Ian a lot, remembers how his husband had looked at him like he was a monster, when Bucky had finally confided his deepest secret. It was like watching a Manchurian candidate switch on; like the past three years hadn’t happened and he’d never even loved Bucky at all.

To feel better, he pulls some of Melissa for dinner, seasoning and cooking the meat sous vide. He lights the tall candlesticks on the dining room table in her honor and eats slowly, thinking about how she’d smiled up at him, that last time. She’d told Bucky that she was ready, that she knew she was crazy and Bucky could finally end it. He’d promised her he would. And then she’d smiled and cried and asked him for a kiss before she slipped under.

Bucky thinks it’s pretty fucked up, that he kissed her. Maybe even more fucked up than the fact that he’s sitting here eating her with a garlic velouté. But he can't help it. He loves the ones that find acceptance in the end. Melissa had been beautiful to him, then. Willingness is the ultimate fantasy, of course, but that's something which Bucky has come to realize he'll probably never get.

He sighs, sipping his glass of wine. It’s Sunday evening. He was supposed to be sharing a meal with Steve right now, laughing over stupid jokes and learning more about each other. Growing closer. Setting the stage for a future where he could finally be truly intimate with the person he loved.

Bucky’s so upset that this is how it’s played out. Melissa doesn’t even taste that good, his stomach churning the more he ruminates about it. He sets his fork down and rubs his forehead in stress, thinking of Steve. Fuck, he doesn’t want to lose him.

After dinner he sends a tray down in the dumbwaiter, carrying another. He passes Steve’s room and hears him call out, but Bucky doesn’t answer. He doesn’t want Steve to have to know any more about Eileen than is strictly necessary. She’s a horrible person, and Steve shouldn’t have to deal with her. Bucky sits Eileen up and feeds her her dinner, not bothering to talk to her. She’s teetering on the edge, he can tell. If he’s lucky, she’ll go catatonic. Then he won’t even have to make conversation. He wipes her mouth and asks her if she has to use the bathroom.

No answer.

He lays her back down, covering her with the blanket. She’s just depressing him now. Bucky takes a good, long look at her when he’s standing back at the door to her room, admiring his work and what he’s reduced her to. “Do you know why I did this to you?” he asks her, in an uncharacteristically morbid mood. “Hm?”

Slowly, she turns her head to look at him. She doesn’t say anything, which pisses Bucky off.

“It’s because you’re the lowest level of human scum. A mother’s supposed to protect her children, not offer them up for the slaughter.”

She blinks at him. “So you slaughtered me.”

He nods.

“How did I taste?”

Bucky shrugs. “Average.” He’s long since abandoned the notion that a person’s moral fiber affects their taste. It doesn’t. Bucky’s clients are romantic. They like to think that sex and age and race make a difference, but the sad fact of the matter is that underneath their skin, people are all the same—meat. “I dressed you up with a really nice red wine reduction,” he tells her, more to try and fuck with her emotions than anything else. “If that makes you feel better.”

“Why not him?” she asks, and Bucky knows who she means.

“Because you’re her mother!” he growls. “The one person a child is supposed to be able to count on, no matter what!” Not that he hadn’t considered taking the boyfriend, too, but that was a lot more work, and he’d never make a profit on a male anyways. “How can you even live with yourself? How could you let him in your home?!”

She infuriates him further by not caring. “I worked with what I had,” she says.

Bucky sees red. He immediately leaves the room and goes to grab a syringe of potassium chloride. “You’re done,” he tells her, then finds a vein and pushes. He watches as her heart stops and the light fades from her eyes.

Like always, he’s not as satisfied by the death as he wants. He doesn’t think he ever will be.

He’s not in the mood to harvest her, so he puts her on the cart and wheels her into the walk-in fridge, leaving her there to be dealt with later. He’ll send out an email tomorrow to see if he’s got any takers on fresh organ meats or ribs. Sometimes he gets lucky and can hock the entrails at full price.

If not, oh well. He’ll just make a nice paté.

Steve is reading a book when Bucky brings his dinner in. “Hey,” Bucky says, setting the tray down next to the mattress and taking a seat on the floor. He looks Steve over. He seems calm enough, which Bucky likes. “What are you reading?”

“Atlas Shrugged. You have a very well-rounded library,” he tells him. Then he catches sight of Bucky’s face and he looks him over more closely. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky’s lips twitch. “How do you know anything’s wrong?”

“I can tell,” he says simply. “You’re upset.”

Bucky stares at him, but eventually he huffs and gives up, looking away. “Eileen’s done,” he says. “It’s just you down here, now.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “You… you killed her?”

“Yeah.” Bucky sees him react. The kid is afraid. “Steve, I told you I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that,” he mutters. “But here I am, chained up in your basement.”

Bucky snorts and looks away. “Yeah. Touché.”

They’re both quiet then. Eventually Steve reaches for half of the turkey sandwich Bucky’s prepared for him. He lifts the top piece of bread and then looks to Bucky with a dubious eyebrow raised. “It’s ‘vegetarian’,” Bucky says, putting quotes on the word to let Steve know he means “people-free.”

Steve takes a bite so big that Bucky can’t help but feel warmed by how it means that Steve is trusting him. Steve chews and says, “What are you going to do with me?”

God, isn’t that the fucking dilemma of the year? Bucky shakes his head, frowning at the tray between them. “I don’t know.”

“...You could take me back upstairs,” Steve suggests. Bucky’s eyes shoot back up, alarmed. “Just to hang out!” Steve adds hastily. “We could spend time together, but then you could always put me back down here.”

Bucky sighs. Steve’s a smart cookie, he’ll give him that. “No,” he tells him. “You’re just trying to escape.”

“I’m not. I—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Steve shuts up abruptly, and Bucky feels bad for having snapped. He clenches his jaw and looks away. He hates seeing Steve afraid of him. “You shouldn’t have snuck down here, Steve,” he grumbles, pissed, because Steve has ruined everything. Bucky was so excited to finally get to be with someone, to start anew and do it right this time. But now they can’t even have that.

Really, he’s not even angry at Steve. He’s angry at himself. He’s never, ever left the door to the basement unlocked. It was a freak accident and it’s ruined all his plans. “Fuck,” he curses quietly, slapping his hand down onto the carpeted floor in frustration. He closes his eyes and puts his head in his hands. He feels so lost.

Before he knows it, he feels an arm wrapping around him. Steve has moved to his side and is trying to hold him comfortingly.

Bucky looks over, surprised. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” Steve murmurs. “I’m sorry I went and messed it up. …I really did like you, before.”

Bucky’s heart constricts. “You did?” he asks, wanting to hear him say it again.

“Yeah.” Steve says, his voice so sad, like he’s lost all hope of ever finding someone to love, now. “I did.”

Bucky knows that he has to show Steve that they can still be together, that the important things haven’t changed. “I’m still me, Steve,” he promises. “And you’re still you. And we’re here together. We can still make it work.”

Steve makes a noise of protest, but Bucky hushes him. “I’m going to show you,” he says, already thinking about how he’ll do it. “You’ll see.” Steve’s face is doubtful as Bucky gets up, but Bucky is motivated now. He isn’t going to let Steve become just another captive. He’s going to make him see. He’s going to make him his.

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[the-badger-mole]

The Other Woman: Part 2

Zuko was stunned. In the span of one evening, he'd gone from happily- ecstatically- engaged to the woman of his dreams, to standing alone in his apartment trying to sort out the wreckage of his relationship.

Katara was gone when he finished his talk with his mother. He asked his stepfather and sisters where she'd gone, but Ikem hadn't even noticed she had left. Azula had just rolled her eyes and announced she was about to leave herself. Kiyi, his youngest sister, was the only helpful one there. She had tugged his sleeve and pulled him aside, with her eyes wide in concern.

"Katara left so quickly," she told her brother. "I tried to ask what was wrong, but I don't think she heard me." Zuko frowned at that. His mother's house was away from any major roads, and he had driven them both there. She couldn't have gone far, he thought.

His phone chimed a few moments later. Zuko hurried to unlock his screen to see if Katara had texted him an explanation for her sudden disappearance. It wasn't her texting him, but the ride-share app alerted him that she had just gotten a ride back to the city.

"How rude that woman is," Ursa huffed when she saw Katara was gone. "She could have at least said good night. Zuko, my love, are you sure about her?" Zuko frowned at his phone again. This wasn't like Katara.

He left very shortly after that. Hoping to catch Katara at home when she got out of the car. Ursa had been against it. Giving into Katara's tantrums would set a bad precedence for their marriage, and Ursa hadn't even gotten to serve the dessert she'd spent all day slaving over. But some nameless panic had settled over Zuko. If he didn't go after Katara now, he might not get another chance. Ursa tried to change his mind, pointing out that he'd been drinking (he'd had half a cup of wine) and he should stay the night instead of rushing off after that woman.

He didn't catch Katara as she got home. Zuko got the notification that her ride had reached her destination while he was still ten minutes away from her apartment. Perhaps that should have been a sign to leave her alone, but Zuko couldn't. He double parked his car outside of Katara's apartment building and slipped inside behind a man carrying an armload of grocery bags. The idea of sharing the tiny elevator with the man and possibly being forced to engage in small talk had Zuko walking to the stairs instead. Katara only lived on the fifth floor.

When he reached her door, slightly panting and sweaty, he paused. What was he doing here? He knew Katara well enough to know that she wouldn't appreciate his intrusion right now. She was angry, and he didn't know why, but he knew that when she was angry it was best to give her space. He hesitated. Lifted his hand. He deserved to know why.

It didn't take Katara long to answer the door. It was suspiciously as if she'd been waiting. Her eyes and nose were red, and Zuko realized with a start that she had been crying. His own frustration slipped momentarily and he stepped forward instinctively to comfort, but Katara moved out of reach.

"Why did you leave?" Zuko asked. Katara's eyes flashed angrily.

"I got tired," she spat out.

"Tired?" Zuko blinked in surprise and confusion. "Are you sick?"

"That, too," Katara scoffed. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. She leaned against the door and Zuko thought she was about to close it on him, but instead she turned her gaze up towards him, and he was struck by the anguish he saw there. "Why do you let her treat me that way?"

Zuko's first thought was to ask what she meant. To deny he had any idea what she was talking about. To pretend he hadn't noticed Ursa being any colder than usual. He was walking a thin line. One false move and any chance of him working this out with Katara was gone. And he did want to work this out. He knew he would never find someone he loved as much as he loved her.

"She doesn't mean anything by it," Zuko said, weakly. It was the wrong thing to say. Katara's entire body seemed to shut off towards him. Her face went stony, and her tearful blue eyes turned cold and icy.

"Doesn't she?" Katara scoffed. "She doesn't really think I'm not good enough for you? That you should be with a woman who wants to be a housewife? That I'm coming between your relationship with her?"

"Katara, you have to understand," Zuko pleaded. "After the divorce...after everything with my father...she just wants to make up for what she missed."

"How long do you expect me to put up with that?" Katara demanded. She straightened up and glared at Zuko. "When she tries to disrupt our wedding day, should I just ignore her? When she insults the way I raise our kids, I should just let it slide? When she insults my weight? My family? My culture?"

Zuko was speechless. His mind scrambled, trying to find a defense for his mother, but all he could do was gape at Katara's expectant face. Finally, she broke the silence. Her face crumpled and fresh tears sprang to her eyes.

"I love you, Zuko," she said, slipping the engagement ring off of her finger. "But I can't compete with your mother for the rest of my life. And I won't stay quiet while she insults me." She pressed the ring into his palm and closed his fingers around it. Then impulsively, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. Before Zuko could gather himself and plead his case, Katara shut the door. A moment later he heard the lock click into place.

He could still enter, if he wanted. He had a key to her apartment, after all. Instead, he turned away numbly, and shuffled to the elevator. He didn't remember driving home, or pulling into his parking spot, or anything of his journey home until he found himself leaning against his door. He couldn't even recall how long he'd been standing there. Finally, Zuko came out of his fog enough to pull the ring out of his pocket and stare at it. She'd actually given it back to him. She'd actually ended things.

Pain sat like a weight in Zuko's chest. He wanted desperately to cry, but all that would come out were sharp, ragged gasps. He didn't want to be alone just then, but he didn't know who to call. His best friend, Sokka, was Katara's brother. If he knew about the break up, then the chances were high that he'd be heading towards his sister's place before he came to see Zuko. For the briefest moment, he considered calling his mother, but the thought of Ursa being happy about the breakup stopped him. That left one more person.

"Jasmine Dragon Tea Shop," Iroh answered cheerfully. "How can I help you?" Zuko froze, breathing heavily into the phone. Iroh spoke again, his voice a mix of confusion and annoyance, "Hello?"

"...Uncle," Zuko managed to get out before the first sob escaped him.

"I'm on my way."

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

[faegoddessog]

Woman in Red Ch 16/17

Chapter 16: Firenze

Series Summary: She's a very successful woman who can't seem to find a partner that can keep up with her. He is just wanting to find someone who likes him for HIM, not his fame. Neither of them are prepared for what hits them when she walks into that coffee shop.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, mentions of suicide, catharsis.

A/N: In this story, I make no mention of birth control or condoms or STI's. Please, darlings, please love yourself enough to protect yourself appropriately when you have sex. <3

US suicide prevention, and International suicide prevention hotlines. Please reach out if you are having suicidal thoughts.

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Chapter 16: Firenze

Aya knew it was a long shot when she called, but luckily there was a crew on standby. The flight plan had to be changed for time, but they could leave as soon as she got there. She shut her phone off, knowing she didn’t want the distraction as she drove down the 110 then the 105 to the airport. Traffic seemed to be melting in her path, a sure sign that leaving was the right thing. She refused to call it running, she was letting go, she told herself. Letting go of him for his own sake, so she didn’t screw him up. He was just too perfect. 

Thankfully, the crew on the plane was all new, so she didn’t have to explain anything to anyone.  She picked at her dinner, but drank nearly a whole bottle of wine just staring at the seat where he sat nearly a month ago. 

She retired, wobbling, to the bed and curled up on the bedspread, trying to forget what she was doing. 

They hit a patch of turbulence.  Memories come unbidden into her drunken brain. Memories of Austin towering over her on this bed; grinning at her as he belted her down while the plane shook; holding her in his arms after he had spent himself; asking her if she was good or did she need more; the feel of his lips against her ear. Tears flood anew down her face. She cries herself to sleep. 

She wakes bleary eyed and thick headed. There is a blanket and the bed belt over her, three packets of crackers, two bottles of water and a packet labeled ‘hangover relief’ sitting on the table next to the bed.  She takes the meds and downs a bottle of water  with some crackers, making a mental note to thank the stewardess. Noticing the map on the screen, she sees that she slept through the refuel stop. 

Once she gets breakfast in her and the meds start to kick in, she turns her phone back on to text her housekeeper in Kuala Lumpur that she would be a day early. She should have done it last night, but she just couldn't bring herself to brave her phone. 

As her phone connects to the plane’s wifi, she thumbs her message app to compose the text. Then there he was, the tiny photo of him smiling up at her from the coffee shop. She can’t bring herself to think about how that day changed her life.  The little red circle by his name with the number three sits next to his picture.  She takes big breaths, looking out the plane window, trying to relieve the tightness that suddenly grips her chest. 

She skips over Austin and touches Dalia’s picture just under his.

Dalia:

-I heard you fighting, you ok?

Dalia:

-I’m worried about you. Where are you?

Dalia:

-I’m here if you need me

Aya doesn’t even know where to begin. She owes her oldest friend at least a text back. 

-I’ll be ok, had to change my flight to handle things

It’s not a lie, not exactly. She starts to text ‘check on Austin for me’ but erases it. Dalia doesn't need to be put in the middle of this mess. 

-I promise we’ll talk when I get back

She turns off her phone, resolving not to look at his texts. She pulls out her laptop to review the paperwork on the deal she is going to Malaysia to seal. 

Fifteen minutes later, she picks up her phone again. She can’t think of anything else but what Austin might have said. 

Austin: 

-I’m sorry I left so abruptly. I started having a panic attack and needed some air.

Austin:

-Where are you? Please can we finish talking about this?

Austin:

-At the Malibu house, I’ll wait here or meet you anywhere. I need to see you before you leave tomorrow. Please, I need to know if you are ok.

His words hit her in the gut. She had just assumed he was done, that his walking out meant the conversation was over and that they were over. In her rush to run, erm- let go, she never considered there would be more to say or that he would be concerned about her. God what has she done? Should she even respond?

“What a dick move that would be,” she mutters to herself.

Of course she should, she’s not mad at him,  she doesn't want to make him feel worse than she already has.  How on earth can she explain to him that returning his feelings just isn’t possible for her? Maybe by the time she gets back, his emotions will have chilled out. Maybe he’ll realize it’s just an orgasm induced crush. A sob escapes her at the thought, so too does the thought that if she is this torn up about it, maybe there is more to it than fear. 

She composes half a dozen texts with tones ranging from “Fuck you,” to “Everything’s fine”.  A mirror of the gamut of emotions she’s been experiencing, everything except feeling ‘fine’. Unless you count it as F.ucked up, I.nsecure, N.eedy, and E.motional.  Finally she settles on something honest and somewhat neutral. 

-I’ve already left. I’m sorry. 

 She hits send and puts the phone down. Within a minute her phone buzzes. 

Austin:

-yeah, I’m sorry too. 

-you ok? can we talk?

She huffs out a big sigh. ‘Okay’ is a relative term. Maybe this time apart will cool things, bring emotions back to a manageable level.

-I think time apart is good right now. I’m going to be crazy busy.  We can talk when I get back. 

It’s her round-about way of not answering the question.

The three dots under his name appeared and disappeared, appeared again and stayed and stayed. 

She stared at them for a few minutes. Then turned her phone off again. It was quietly cracking her heart. She didn’t know what to do, so she threw herself into work. He never did respond, or if he did it never came through. 

……

After their last exchange, Austin had written then erased things like ‘too busy for 15 minute phone call?!’ and ‘ that is just a lame excuse’ then just texted a whole block of text with just ‘fuck it- I love you’ over and over. He was mad and hurt in so many ways, yet it was true, ‘Fuck it- I love her.’ And he sent none of it. He should just tell her that he knew why she was pushing him away. 

Then, ironically, he was busy. 

…

From the second she touched down in Kuala Lumpur, nothing seemed to be going right. Her ride was late, road closures meant delays and her apartment was not stocked and ready since her housekeeper hadn’t gotten her message in time. She went to her favorite restaurant to find it temporarily closed. She decided to distract herself by watching a movie only to find Austin staring back at her from the TV, his last film having just moved to streaming. Shit. She decided reading was safer. She pulled out her kindle  only to find that prior to all this mess, he had slipped in a photo of himself and Kato curled up on her Malibu couch with a note that said “furry back home!” It was infuriating how fucking amazing he was. She opened a bottle of her best wine and drank it on her balcony overlooking the city. 

….

If there was one thing  Austin was amazing at, it was throwing himself into his work. He had been shooting his new film in Europe for the past three weeks. Thank god it was an action film and not the rom-com he had nearly said yes to. He wasn’t ready to explore those still raw emotions just yet. He wasn’t ready to think about her. He hadn’t seen her missed call, he hadn’t had the time. In fact he hadn’t allowed himself to think about Aya at all. Until she texted him. 

…..

Aya found that she was having to stay in Kuala Lumpur much longer than she had originally expected.  The business deal that she had come to wrap up was about to go sour over some stupid red tape nonsense that no one had bothered to inform her on. It had been nearly a year in the making and was now taking a ton of sweet talking, promises and new write-ups to salvage, nearly starting from scratch. She really was working non-stop and it was wearing her out both physically and emotionally. 

One day, she happened to run into one of her long standing ‘gentleman friends’ on the way back to her apartment from a dismal morning meeting. He was a man of means, handsome and close to her age. He had actually become a good friend over the years, as well as a good lover. 

He invited her out to lunch. She tried to decline, telling him she couldn’t sleep with him, she was too worn out and not in the mood. Such words that had NEVER left her lips before. He definitely noticed.

“Why can I not just enjoy your company, Aya” he had said in his thick accent.  It struck a chord in her, slowly stopping the hamster wheel of defeat that had been ringing in her head for more than a week.  She nodded and he led her to his car. 

“You do not look right darling, tell me what is wrong,” he said pointedly when they had sat down. He did so in such a way that she couldn’t even begin to deny it.  That one crack was all she needed. She spilled. Once she had started, it was like she couldn’t stop. Everything: her fears, Austin, Florence, Antoni, her curse, all of it came flooding out. 

Her companion sat, chin on his hand, handing her his handkerchief and making only the little ‘mmm, hmms’ and nodding to show that he was indeed listening. 

“Aya, darling,” he finally said, grabbing her hand, “Thank you for telling me this. What a terrible thing to have happen to you.  You have always been using sex to hide your heart and now I know why.  I have three things to say to you,” he held up three fingers,  “One: I am so happy for your emotions, to love and grieve and hurt are what make us beautiful, crazy humans.  Two: consider this, how can it be a curse if it only has happened once?” He swirlied  the wine in his glass “Three, and this one may be hard to hear darling: for someone who advocates for mental health, did it never occur to you that you need some?”

She just stared at him, at this man she had been so physically intimate with in the past, but never actually intimate. He was right, so fucking right. He saw through her, had seen through her all along no doubt, he just hadn’t known the details. She had been so intent on ‘moving on’, so focused on making sure help was available to those in need, she hadn’t stopped to help herself. What a hypocrite she was. 

“Now,” he said as though he could see the seeds of self-doubt start to grow in her, “what must we do to put this silly notion of cursed love to sleep? You must get on with fixing up with this Austin-man,” his smile was infectious, “He is a lucky man to have your love.”

“Oh no, I’m not…” she started to say, but just then her brain caught up. Finally saying it all out loud was cathartic. Without all that bullshit she kept up as protection, it was like a light bulb going off in her mind so bright that it exploded in her heart. She did love Austin and she was an idiot.

“Oh my god, I do,” she said, hand partially covering her mouth. 

“Of course you do, it is plain,”  he just smiled and rubbed her arm. 

This was how she ended up in Florence, Italy three weeks later, standing at the door. 

After thanking him profusely for his candor,  Aya had gone directly after lunch, to the center that she heavily sponsored in Kuala Lumpur.  The director was surprised to see her, expecting that it was an impromptu inspection of the facilities. When she told him she needed help, he hooked her up with several of their top therapists to choose from. She spent mornings in meetings and late afternoons in sessions. It was like a weight had been lifted off her chest. 

The business deal seemed to magically fall into place, as though it was just her attitude that was holding it all back. 

She tried calling Austin, but he never picked up. She knew he was filming and that half the time he didn’t know where his phone was. She briefly considered flying to where he was, but realized quickly that she didn’t know if he wanted to see her. Plus, interrupting his work would be rude and selfish.

On the way to the airport, she finally she just texted him:

  -I’d like to talk to you, when you are ready and have time.

She knew it was lame, but she couldn’t say all she wanted to say in a text. He would get it when he got it. 

He hadn’t texted back yet when she landed in Florence. She and her therapist had decided that grabbing the bull by the horns was what she needed to do. 

She had been here for four days, having a zoom session every day and still couldn’t bring herself to go to the apartment. She was quickly realizing she couldn't do this alone. She called Dalia in tears hoping to get her to come to Florence for moral support. 

………….

He was staring at the phone for the hundredth time in four days. Staring at her words. ‘When you are ready.’ Was he ready? Could he even begin to think about this? He had started an angry text back, railing at her audacity. He erased it. Then one about how hurt he was, but it wasn’t conveying what he really felt. He had been writing and erasing off and on for the past four days. Telling himself that he really didn't have time for all this. And now he was staring not only at his phone but at a break, a long weekend where he had nothing to do but think. 

He knew this wasn’t something they could work out over text or even over the phone. He wanted  for her to see him, see his eyes. He wanted to leave everything on the table. If she was truly going to break his heart, he wanted her to see it when she plunged the proverbial sword into his beating chest. 

His phone flashed an incoming call in his hand, he kept it on silent when he was shooting, if he knew where it was at all. It was Dalia. 

It’s how he ended up here, at Hotel la Gemma. It was, ironically, only about a two hour train ride from where he was shooting north of Bologna. Nervously, he knocked on the door of the suite. He knocked again. There was no answer. He went to the front desk to check that it was indeed the correct room. 

“Ms. Glascoc in room 224?” says the concierge, overhearing Austin’s request. “She left about 30 minutes ago, she said to tell anyone looking for her that she was at the apartment.”

She is standing at the door. The door to their apartment, key in the lock, hand on the knob. She is frozen, had been for a good fifteen minutes. The call to Dalia last night had given her a temporary boost of confidence. Dalia had said she would ‘see what she could do’. Aya should just leave, her anxiety skyrocketing again. Just getting to the door was a big step. 

‘Surely that could be enough for today?’ she tells herself.   

She's not been here in years, not since it happened. She knew she should have sold it by now, but she just couldn’t. It was her first apartment in a foreign country. Her first place where she had fallen in love. Her mind is flashing back, back to that night when she had flown in to surprise him. 

He was an artist, was Antoni. She had been so in love, willing to uproot everything for him. She had bought it for him, for them. It was a third floor penthouse apartment with tall, beamed ceilings. It had been redone: everything new that you want to be new and everything restored that you want to be old. It was a charming place with two bedrooms, one was north facing with huge windows that was perfect for his studio. He had kissed her, thanking her profusely when she surprised him with it. He had insisted that the first art he made here be his love for her. He had laid her down then and there on the floor of the empty room and fucked her so thoroughly and lovingly she could swear she saw creation through his eyes. Stars and colors and strokes and flashes of magic. She decided then and there to split the investment firm and move her half here for good. All she wanted was to make love to her soft, dark, beautiful Italian man for the rest of her life.  She wanted to marry him, provide for him so he could continue to create his beautiful works of art. She would give him children and happiness. Her life would have been so much different.

But that night changed everything. Somehow, she hadn’t seen just how massively bi-polar he was. She had been so dazzled by love for him. She had been in and out of town so much, apparently she missed the major depressive episodes and wrote off the minor ones as his just being an artist and Italian. He would never have told her anyway. Italian toxic masculinity is a category all its own.

Her hand twists the knob of its own accord as it did that night years ago, the door swings wide. She half expected to see the shadow of him there, the memory at least, of him hanging still. He had done it from one of the old beams that had drawn her to the apartment. 

His painting of her is still above the fireplace. The apartment was clean, no one would even begin to guess the tragedy that happened here.  The monthly housekeeper was still doing her job. There were even fresh flowers in the vase on the table. The same vase he had tucked his note under before climbing the chair. The note that had blamed Aya for emasculating him while at same time declaring his undying love for her. It had been a mishmash of a letter, the loving things in his beautiful round script, the dreadful things scratched in harsh lines. He had been so tortured by his personal demons and she had missed so much of it. She vowed then and there, never again. Never again would she love, would she get so involved with someone that she wouldn’t see them for what they really were.

She had left everything; clothes, jewelry, furniture, love. She moved to L.A. had the apartment made in their building and just… worked. Well, worked and tried to fuck the memory of him out of her mind, out of her heart.  

It started as a way to take back control, a way to say ‘fuck you Antoni’. Then casual sex just became a habit and honestly fun to be such a brazen hussy and so successful. When she hit those magic horny years, she never looked back, thinking she was ‘over it’. The rupture Antoni left never truly healed. 

She had planned to come back here, get her things and sell the place, but she just couldn't face it.  Hell she should have had movers do it all, but deep down, Aya wouldn't let it go.  She had truly loved him, loved him still, if truth be told. But she realizes now that she never really knew him. Young love was so, so blind.  Standing still upon the threshold, silent tears rolling one after another down her cheeks. She starts to forgive him, to forgive herself. 

“Aya” she hears the panting breath behind her. She turns. 

All the air leaves her lungs when she sees his tall frame and his soulful blue eyes looking down at her.

>>>>>>

Darling Reader, you are needed in this world. Please reach out if you are having suicidal thoughts.

US suicide prevention

International suicide prevention

[blackwolfstabs]

30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 24

CONFESSION

"He was responsible for this just as much as she was."

AU: Anika survived her attack in Scream VI :)

Tara spent hours pacing in her bedroom, watching time go by and fighting her fluctuating anxiety that had her fetching her inhaler more than she should, especially now, since… 

No, stop thinking about it. 

That was the problem, and she had two ways to handle it right now. She could either try to talk about it or try to sleep and forget about it. However, it was pretty fucking clear which one was promised to fail.

She didn’t want to do this… She really didn’t. She didn’t mean for it to happen anyway. Neither of them did. One thing just led to another and…

Fuck.

She pulled her phone up from clutching it at her side. The screen lit up to glow the time and a thread of unanswered text messages from Chad.

11:24 PM.

She couldn’t read through the texts. There were at least 20, and they had stopped around 7:00 that night. When she hadn’t answered, he had texted Sam, who’d told him that she was okay, home, and doing homework so her phone was on Do Not Disturb. Tara had been the one to tell her she was doing homework, but that wasn’t the truth. She lied. Because she couldn’t focus on anything but the thoughts running a thousand miles per minute in her head.

The ones she had to get out.

She navigated to the Discord app, where she could find an immediate answer if who she needed to talk to was still awake. Discord was where she and her classmates kept in touch with assignments and questions and whatnot. It was the quickest way to get a response from someone, because there was always someone online, no matter what time of day.

Luck was finally on her side tonight. She found the green status symbol alive next to Mindy’s icon, leading her to immediately go to her DMs.

‘hey are u busy? there’s something i need to talk to u about’

Her heart was pounding, as if it was already set-in-stone that she would be spilling her anxiety to someone else. It wasn’t. Mindy may not be available. She could easily change her mind and say ‘nevermind. it’s nothing. sorry for bothering u’. But something kept her staring at the screen long enough to see Mindy start typing a response and then it coming through, reading:

‘What’s up??’

For a moment, Tara felt nauseous, her legs shaking as she bit her lip. 

‘um i’d rather talk to u in person. . . can i come over? if not, it’s ok. it can wait’

She knew she shouldn’t, but she had to add that last part as a final attempt to possibly get herself out of it. If Mindy said no, then it technically wasn’t her decision and she’d be forced to not tell anyone right now… right? 

But her luck vanished in a second.

‘yeah sure. Chad’s already asleep so he won’t bother us, but Anika’s still here. We can go to my room to talk if you want.’

Now, there was no backing out. It was a relief that Chad was promised to stay out of the picture, but now that it was mentioned, she didn’t think having Anika there would be a problem. In fact, it might make things easier with how compassionate and easy-going she was. So, she quickly replied.

‘no it’s fine, she can stay. i don’t mind talking with both of u’

‘Cool then come on over. I’ll unlock the door.’

‘kk’

Tara took another breath through her inhaler, before shoving it in her pocket and leaving her room. She gave Sam’s door a look as she passed, making sure that no light was detected from beneath it, before continuing to the front door. All she could hope for now was that Sam was in a deep enough sleep to not recognize the unlocking and re-locking of the locks, nor wake up to find her gone before she could return. She didn’t intend to make this conversation very long, because she was exhausted and would rather be alone. She just hoped Mindy and Anika wouldn’t drag it out any more than need-be. Well… she was confident that Anika wouldn’t, but Mindy was unpredictable.

Once she got to the Meeks-Martins’ apartment and went inside, she became really nauseous. Mindy had left for a brief moment, but Anika had gotten them all some water and was setting the cups down on the table. Tara swayed a little, bringing a ginger hand up to her stomach with a small whimper.

She should’ve waited until the morning to do this, when nothing was in her stomach. She hadn’t even wanted to eat dinner but forced herself to anyway, so Sam wouldn’t suspect anything was wrong with her. After all, her appetite had increased, once she started going to therapy and had been on different anxiety and depression medication. Sam was sure to get suspicious if she didn’t eat anything at all.

Anika heard her weak noise and looked over to find her holding her stomach. “Are you okay, Tara?” she asked.

The younger took a deep breath. “Erm… I-I think I just wanna go home… my stomach’s upset…” she replied, her legs starting to tremble again.

But this only made the other more concerned as she came over to her. “Okay, well, why don’t you sit down for a minute first? See if it feels better?” She kept a soft hand on her back and guided her to the nearest chair, before pushing one of the water cups up to her. “Here, take a few sips.”

When Tara sat down, her leg immediately started bouncing in that infamously anxious way it did when she felt that staying still was like the calm before the storm. That was something she and and Sam had in common— 

Sam…

She swore she couldn’t tell Sam what was going on, but it was hard not to want her around when she was this anxious. Just her sister’s presence was comforting, and if she were able to trust her with the truth, then she knew she would be able to be comforted the way she liked. But she just didn’t know…

She took a small sip of her water and a deep breath. Sitting down after shaking and pacing for so long actually seemed to take the edge off of her nervousness. It was a relief that made her realize just how much her feet were tired of bearing the pressure too.

“Is Sam not home?” Anika asked, knowing that Tara’s older sister was the first to know everything going on with her, ever since they eradicated the Kirsch family. Plus, whenever she was anxious like this, she always stayed close to Sam for comfort and security.

Carpenter set her cup down, shaking her head, “No, she’s home, just asleep.”

Right then, Mindy came back in, interjecting her apologies for her delay. “Sorry, I was catching up on some instructions for that paper that’s due next week.”

While Tara stayed quiet, Anika mentioned, “It’s fine. She just got really nauseous, so we haven’t talked much.”

But this made Mindy’s expression immediately switch to showing concern with underlying suspicion. If someone said they needed to talk and then became nauseous when they were given the opportunity to share, it was usually something that was risky. “It’s alright, take your time,” she assured, while she took a seat next to her girlfriend. “Is this your first time talking about whatever it is you need to talk about?”

Tara nodded without hesitation. She really wanted to just get it over with, blurt it out, and get all of the questions and awkward, judging moments of silence over with. “I… I just…” She paused to sigh again, trying to calm the waves of anxiety teasing her queasy stomach. “I’m just scared, because I don’t even know how to process it…” she whimpered.

“Well, let’s not worry about processing right now.” Anika reached her hand out to place it on Tara’s fidgeting hands. She then ran her thumb soothingly over her skin, “You can say whatever you wanna say, when you wanna say it.”

Beside her, Meeks-Martin nodded, “Yeah, whatever it is, it’s safe with us. Ring of Fire.”

‘Yeah, for now,’ Tara thought. It would be impossible to keep things a secret in the next coming weeks. She was already starting to feel the differences, which almost scared her more than telling someone, because she knew she’d be facing it all alone. She shifted in her seat and shrugged her shoulders, while giving a nervous glance down the hall… where the bedrooms were.

“Chad’s not going to come in, trust me,” Mindy promised, “Besides, even if he did, we’ll just tell him it’s girl stuff and he’ll go away.”

“N-no, that’s…” She couldn’t help but avoid all eye contact as she dropped her eyes to her lap. “It, uh… involves him actually…” This was where it got real. Unexpected tears suddenly rushed into her eyes, her chest feeling hot, while her throat started to close up.

The couple observing exchanged a glance, noticing her change in demeanor instantly. However, the longer they sat there, the more emotional Tara seemed to get.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Tara,” Anika rushed to calm her, getting up from her seat, when she saw the youngest’s figure shudder with a small sob. She knelt down next to her and wiped the tears that had started to fall.

But this just made Tara feel even more helpless as she drew her arms away from resting on the table-top to hug her torso, spine curving outward to hang her head further. “N-no, it’s not okay!” she cried, her voice pitched and whimper-like in trying to keep quiet.

“Yes, it is, T,” Mindy instantly told her, moving away from the table as well to go help comfort her. She came around and took the chair right next to her. “It is okay. Whatever it is, we can fix it or we can help you through it,” she soothed, gently beginning to rub her back in small circles. “Is this a coming-out thing?” She asked this, on account that what she was hiding concerned Chad and she hadn’t discussed it with Sam first, which was very weird for her. With how emotional she was becoming, it might suggest her having to break his heart, if hers no longer beat in the same direction.

However, Carpenter shook her head. “Mm— No…” She loved Chad. She loved him so much, which was why this was so hard. She didn’t know how he’d take it, because she didn’t even know how she could take it. There were options, of course, but it wasn’t just up to her. 

He was responsible for this just as much as she was.

“Tara.”

She glanced up with watery eyes to find Anika’s calm and comforting ones blinking back at her. 

“Take a deep breath… and tell us what you need to say.”

This was it. The point of no return. Tara closed her eyes, swallowed back the accumulated drainage clogging her esophagus, and took a deep breath. She felt Anika’s touch on her leg begin to pet her in a similar motion that Mindy was performing on her upper back. Her stomach twinged, which made her loosen her arms’ tight hold on it. She didn’t dare open her eyes. 

“I’m pregnant.”

All my best! ♡ - parker

[arwenlalaith]

Dating App Mishaps (Ch. 9)

Ship: Alex Blake/Reader

Summary: Alex didn't have Tinder by choice...but that doesn't mean it isn't going to come in handy.

Word Count: 1040

When Alex arrived home from the case, she felt – physically and emotionally – like she'd been hit by a truck. Not to mention beyond sexually frustrated... (The previous night's masturbation had only made things worse, somehow.)

She would have loved nothing more than to fuck you into oblivion as a form of stress release, had been imagining it the entire jet ride back to DC...but you had yet to respond to her text message asking whether you were free.

Emily's words were echoing in the back of her mind. Afterall, Emily had been doing this work for a long time, she obviously knew what she was talking about when it came to keeping the frustration at bay, so maybe it was worth looking into the whole cam girl thing. Right?

Besides, she could just look... She could just see what the whole thing was all about, she could stop at any point. It didn't have to mean anything.

Right?

She opened her laptop and started up the web browser, which immediately flashed to the page Emily had opened. She spent a few moments staring dumbly at the page, trying to decide what to do next. Which girl did she choose? She had no idea how to even begin the selection process...

So, she did the only thing she could think of and selected at random – a girl going by the name Queen Mab.

For a few moments, as the page loaded, she chewed her lip. Anxiety roiled in her stomach like a pit of snakes in some kind of quantum entanglement moment of Schrodinger's duality.

The next thing Alex was aware of, a husky voice purred, "Well, well, well...we have a new friend joining us. Everyone welcome Peitho to the Seelie Realm..."

She looked up sharply, gaze snapping to the screen at the familiar voice.

It couldn't be...

But sure enough, it was.

For several long moments, she froze, mind struggling to comprehend the situation at hand. Then, just as quickly as she'd frozen, she returned to life, snapping the laptop lid shut and pushing it away from her like it had personally wronged her.

She stood, running her fingers through her hair as she exhaled heavily. Her first thought was that she needed to get her mind off, well...everything. She needed a distraction.

Twenty minutes later, she'd vacuumed her entire apartment...but she'd spent the entire time thinking about what she'd inadvertently stumbled across. She was seriously debating opening up the laptop and double checking that it was, indeed, what she'd thought...

But before she could, there was a knock on her front door and she silently thanked a God she didn't believe in for the new distraction. When she flung the door open, however, it was to find Emily leaning against the doorframe with a pointed expression. "Care to explain why you're vacuuming at eleven at night?" she asked.

(The divorce decree had stated that she and James were to sell the house and split the money from the sale, which had meant Alex needed to find a new place to live. Thankfully, Emily's neighbour happened to be selling his place just then.)

Alex winced, having forgotten just how paper thin the walls were. "Sorry," she said with a wince, standing back to allow Emily into the apartment. "Wine?" she asked (and briefly wondered why she hadn't thought to pour herself a glass earlier).

"Do you really have to ask?" Emily said, moving to the kitchen in search of wine glasses without being asked. Once Alex had poured them both a glass of wine and was in the midst of a greedy sip, Emily rather suddenly declared, "You're hiding something."

Choking on the liquid, Alex spent the next several moments coughing and sputtering which, fortunately, bought her some time to think of a reply. Unfortunately, the best she could come up with – caught off guard as she was – was, "I don't know what you mean."

Emily gave a snort of amusement. "You're a shit liar, you know that, right?"

Alex blinked a few times, stunned by Emily's almost superhuman ability to know things. "I don't... I wasn't..." she stammered.

Emily laughed at her consternation. "Let me guess: curiosity got the best of you and you decided to check out the cam girls afterall and now the compulsory heterosexuality is combining with religious guilt to form a cloud of shame over your head..."

She felt her face flush bright red, giving away far more than she cared to. Logically, she knew that there was nothing to feel guilty over – afterall, these girls were all legal and they were earning money – but knowing it and believing it were two very different things. "What would you do if you found someone you knew on the cam girl site?" she asked before she even knew she was going to speak.

A brow arching up her forehead, unable to contain her curiosity, Emily asked, "Who did you see?" Alex shook her head once, twice. Emily scrutinized her for a few moments. "It was your situationship girl, wasn't it?"

"My what?"

Emily rolled her eyes because, for all her linguistic prowess, she could sometimes be rather obtuse about colloquialisms. "So, what are you going to do?" she asked, ignoring the question to get to the meat of the matter.

Alex shrugged, genuinely mystified. This was a situation she felt uniquely unequipped to handle, considering she hadn't dated in well over twenty years.

Seeming to take pity on her, Emily clapped a hand on her shoulder and said sagely, "I say keep seeing her."

"What?" she asked, deadpan.

"You're just looking for a hook up, right?" Emily asked.

She winced. "Well, I... I don't..." She shrugged helplessly once again, truly not knowing what exactly it was she was after.

"Does the cam girl thing bother you?"

"Well, no, but..."

Emily fixed her with a very deliberate stare for several long moments. Then, deadly serious, she said, "If you don't date her, I will."

"What?" A yelp this time.

She said nothing, simply continued staring at her pointedly.

[lemony-snickers]

@butter--peanut ficti-gram for you!

to: @butter--peanut from: @wind-becomes-lightning message: Hello my love, I mean my rival, I am currently working through the first pages of the book you are writing and am in total awe of your work!! I want to send you this little sweet thing so you can relax a little for a minute with a good fic before you dive into rewrites again! I am very happy that I met you and that we have met in person so many times and hopefully many many more times until you leave forever! (;(). Sending you many hugs!! <3 characters/pairing: kakashi hatake/obito uchiha word count: 3,646 prompt: the smell of coffee

Obito Uchiha has always hated the smell of coffee.  Freshly roasted at a fancy kissaten or poured from a grody two-day-old carafe into a travel mug, he thinks it always smells like burnt piss.  No amount of sugar or milk or cream or flavoring could ever make it palatable, and Obito will never understand how anyone, under any circumstances, could ever find themselves so desperate for an infusion of caffeine they would resort to drinking it.

Admittedly, coffee might be a useful beverage to keep on deck in the event of poisoning, to make a person throw up.  Maybe.  He’d have to be really poisoned to consider it, and Obito sees no other reasonable purpose for the existence of such a foul liquid.

Normally, Obito is fairly adept at avoiding coffee in all its forms, but there is one occasion upon which he has little to no control over whether he’s subjected to it and that is whenever Kakashi Hatake texts him to say he’s on his way over.

It’s still relatively new, all the Kakashi stuff.  When Obito ran across his old classmate on a dating app, he’d only partially been serious when he swiped to match with him.  Mostly, Obito was curious.  He smirked when he saw Kakashi’s profile—pathetically sparse and with a picture that didn’t even show his entire face—because it was very clear Kakashi was looking specifically for hook-ups while Obito had spent hours agonizing over which photos to upload, how many of his own scars to show, and how to make an appropriately-but-not-too-seriously self-deprecating joke about them in his bio.

Online dating is a terribly complicated thing, it turns out, when half your body is marred by the mistakes of your past.

Obito had not expected to match with Kakashi in the slightest.  At best, he thought he might receive a message something along the lines of, “Fuck you, loser,” before he was blocked.

Instead, Kakashi invited him out for a drink and Obito—perhaps foolishly or at least with a dash of foolhardy optimism—said yes.

The alcohol helped soothe the awkward sting of their reunion.  They spent hours at the bar, ordering round after round, allowing the fuzziness of the booze to seep into their blood, their bones.  Cloud over all the terrible parts of their shared history they did not wish to relitigate or relive in any detail.  Their conversation remained light, easy.

Perfunctory shit only.

“How have you been?”

“Good, you?”

“All right.  What do you do for work now?”

“A little bit of everything, really. Whatever brings in enough to cover my rent.”

Kakashi cracked a grin at that and Obito turned his attention toward his beer to hide that he liked it.  There had always been something terribly magnetic about Kakashi.  Even as a kid, when they first entered school together, Obito always found himself drawn to him, desperately trying to escape his orbit with very little success.

It would take several years of distance and a decent amount of therapy for Obito to recognize the feelings of his adolescent self for what they were.  That all the jealousy and anger had been part and parcel to something else, something soft and unknowable, then.  Something he hadn’t been yet able to acknowledge or put voice to.

Obito didn’t realize he was interested in men for a long time after Kakashi was no longer part of his life.  Now, though?  It was painfully clear Obito measured every man he’d ever dated by the metric of his old schoolmate, and not one of them had ever passed muster.

So when Kakashi invited himself to Obito’s apartment after they split their bar tab, he acquiesced.  When he shoved Obito against the wall in the entryway and bruised a kiss against his mouth, Obito’s knees buckled.  When a hand shoved its way down the front of his jeans, Obito whined.

It was so easy to succumb to decades of longing.  To open the half-crushed box where he’d packed it all away and dust it off, return it to a shelf in the sunlight where he could stare at it.  Covet it.

Ignore everything else in the box except this one thing.

And now when Kakashi calls—err, texts, he never calls—Obito unlocks his front door and waits patiently for him to stride in and repeat it all again.

It’s rather infuriating if he gives himself any time to think it over.  That he allows Kakashi to wander in and out of his life like a wraith without expectation or explanation.  He comes and goes as he pleases and part of Obito hates himself for allowing it to continue.

The rest of him, though, sees it as a reward for all his patience.  For all the progress he has made since they last saw each other, broken and bruised and grieving.

Obito’s therapist tells him there might be too much history between them for any of this to work on a functional level.  But then, Obito has never really been all that functional.  At least now he has someone in his life who will touch him, make him feel good without also making him feel self-conscious of his body.

It’s complicated.  At least, that’s what he tells himself (and his therapist), so he doesn’t have to unpack the rest of the box.

But Obito knows deep down none of this is sustainable.  While he’s willing to take what he can, he’s also not a moron.  He’s willing to take what he can get and be satisfied with it; always has been.

What makes things infuriatingly more tenuous, though, is that Kakashi always smells like coffee.

Obito knows that’s probably a sign, but he refuses to read it.

It doesn’t matter what time of day or night he appears at Obito’s door, all hungry eyes and demanding touches, there is always this persistent burnt scent that lingers under everything else.  It’s pervasive.  Poisons the very air of Obito’s apartment as Kakashi swoops in without a word.

It clings to Kakashi’s clothes, his skin, his hair.  It’s on his tongue when it pushes its way into Obito’s mouth, staining itself onto his teeth.

Coffee.  Every time.  Everywhere.

And during the course of their liaisons, the scent transfers itself to Obito, sliding against his scalp and burrowing into the thick folds of his scarred skin.

The burnt piss smell lingers in his nostrils long after Kakashi departs, trailing in his wake like a vile stream, and Obito spends an inordinate amount of time in the bath afterward trying to scrub away the putrid scent and replace it with fruity-smelling body wash or the lavender oil his therapist tells him is good for promoting relaxation.

He doesn’t think he agrees, but it smells nice, so what the hell?

His therapist might also have something to say about Obito’s obsessive need to clean himself every time Kakashi leaves his apartment, but he doesn’t like to think about that much.  Each time, he convinces himself it is the smell and not their fraught and complicated history which demands another cycle of shampoo.  He dips his head beneath the surface of the water until his vision stings and blurs so he won’t imagine what his therapist’s frown looked like when he said as much during their last session.

Obito is a big boy who can make his own decisions, thank you very much.  He just wishes his potentially poor life choices didn’t come with a side of putrescent coffee bean stench.

After a brief On my way text message, Kakashi arrives this time with a soggy-looking bag of takeout and plops it on Obito’s kitchen counter.

“For me?” he asks teasingly, “You shouldn’t have.”

Kakashi rolls his eyes.  “It’s mine and you can’t have any,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets.  Obito rakes his eye over Kakashi’s frame, taking in the lean, wiry muscle of it.  His posture is terrible, he looks like a shepherd’s hook the way his spine curves too much at the top.  As always, Obito’s gaze eventually finds the scar over Kakashi’s eye, traces it carefully.

Whenever he tries to touch it while their kissing or fucking, Kakashi pulls him away, tangles their fingers together or tugs his wrist down to the mattress and restrains his hand there, like it can’t be trusted not to wander.

He doesn’t like to acknowledge his scars any more than Obito likes to acknowledge his own, and Obito wonders if that is part of why they remain within one another’s terrible, destructive orbit.  Because neither of them needs to explain their scars to the other—they were together when they were earned.

Kakashi, for the first time since this all started months ago, looks unsure.  He stands in the liminal space between the kitchen and the living room, rocking slightly back and forth on the balls of his feet.  His energy is nervous.  Sizzling.  Like a crack of lightning splitting the night sky in half.

“Something on your mind?” Obito asks, trying not to let the panic he feels fluttering in his chest make its way into his voice.  It’s like there’s a hummingbird trapped in the cage of his ribs, frantic to escape.

Kakashi shakes his head.  “How, uh… how was your day?” he asks, and a grimace follows immediately, slicing its way across his face like the dull side of a kitchen knife.

Obito can’t help it, he tries not to laugh, but it takes only half a heartbeat for the raucous noise to skitter out of his chest, setting the hummingbird free as he guffaws.  Watching Kakashi try to be normal, try to treat their interaction as if it is casual and regular, is the funniest shit Obito has ever seen.

Kakashi rolls his eyes and takes two quick, purposeful steps forward.  It’s then the coffee scent slams full force into Obito, snaking its way up his nose and into his throat.  He gags a little and Kakashi halts his advance, pausing just as his knee would have brushed against Obito’s own where he sits on his ratty old couch.

“Something smell bad?” Kakashi asks, glancing over his shoulder at the takeout he deposited on the counter.

“Yeah,” Obito says, pinching his nose closed for dramatic effect, “you.”

Still, after all the years of knowing him, of provoking him—and then missing him—Obito experiences the same swift thrill whenever he catches Kakashi off guard.  And watching the confusion blossom over his features, first in the subtle downturn of his mouth at the edges and then in the wrinkles of his nose and crease of his brow, is a glorious, wonderful thing.

“Me?  I smell bad?”

Obito rises slowly from his seat, the good side of his face pitched up in a grin.  “You smell fucking terrible all the time.”

There’s that gorgeous, adorable confusion again.  Deepening.  Pulling Kakashi’s lip toward the infuriatingly beautiful mark on his chin, carving a ravine between his eyebrows.

Obito wishes he could take a photo, blow it up, and hang it on his wall.  He knows he’s probably picking a fight—knows it’s probably long overdue—but this moment is worth the risk of blowing up the very small good thing he’s managed to unpack from his past.

Of course, Kakashi does not handle discomfort well.  Obito doesn’t need a therapist to tell him that.  Kakashi is a man who thrives on control, and Obito’s revelation has clearly thrown him.  It doesn’t take long for lovely confusion to break apart, resettle itself against Kakashi’s features as something vicious.

“Fuck you, I didn’t come here to be insulted,” he says.

Obito’s grin widens.  “But you did come here to fuck me, though.”  He chuckles, and Kakashi spins on his heels.  Before he can snatch up his takeout and head back out into the hall, Obito grabs the bag first and holds it out of his reach.

An impressive feat, if Obito does say so himself, considering they’re close in height but Kakashi definitely has longer arms.  He’s always been built like a swimmer, lanky with a broad chest and narrow hips.

“Stop being such an asshole,” Kakashi says, grabbing for the bag and missing as Obito passes it to his other hand behind his back.

“Don’t be such a fragile little flower,” Obito chides, “take a little criticism for once in your life.”

Kakashi’s face hardens and he stops trying to reach for his food, which Obito knows probably means he’s gone too far, pushed some invisible button too hard.  Rather than acknowledge that; rather than walk himself back or apologize, he simply opens the bag of food in his hands, maintaining uncomfortably intense eye contact with Kakashi as he reaches in, grabs the first food-shaped thing he finds, and brings it to his mouth.

He gags when it hits his tongue, spits it half-chewed right back into the bag without any concern for the rest of its contents.

When he glares at Kakashi, nose wrinkling, pulling his facial scars in a way that tugs uncomfortably at the unmarred flesh of his face, Obito expects to see the same sharp and acerbic glare from a moment ago.

Instead, what he finds is mirth—light dancing in Kakashi’s dark eyes as his mouth splits into a smile, revealing his perfect teeth.  Obito knows his left canine is false, but it’s hard to tell since the rest of his smile is just as dazzlingly white.  And as Kakashi tilts his head back, the apple of his throat jumping wildly in time with his laughter, he wheezes out a high-pitched, “Serves you right!” and then keeps on laughing.

Obito supposes it does, to some extent.  But how was he supposed to know Kakashi Hatake, well-established hater of all things even remotely dessert-like, would be carrying coffee cake in his to-go bag?  Obito keeps sticking out his tongue, like exposure to the air will somehow cleanse the taste from his mouth.  He must look like a frog; a big dumb amphibian who snapped its tongue out only to realize it caught a stink bug.

He tosses the bag back onto the counter, content to have it as far from his person as possible.  “I thought you hated sweets.”

“I do,” Kakashi says, finally regaining some semblance of stoicism.  “It’s for my neighbor.”

Obito frowns.  “Since when have you been that social?”

Kakashi shrugs, but says nothing.  Typical.

They stand there, awkward and unmoving, for several long seconds.  Obito can feel sweat prickling at his nape, his temples.  He has no clue what he’s supposed to say, now.

Do you still get to fuck someone after you’ve told them they reek and then spit half-masticated baked goods back into their extremely kind bag of neighborly good will?

Probably not, which is disappointing.

Is he supposed to open the box, splay the contents across his floors so they can examine all the missing pieces?  Try to fit them back together?

Obito decides that isn’t something he’s ready to do.  That whatever exists between them, now, is still too new, too fragile, to bear the weight.  One day, maybe, it will be strong enough.  But not now.

Mercifully, Kakashi clears his throat, which clears the air enough for him to ask, “Why haven’t’ you ever said anything?”

“About what?” Obito asks, realizing a moment too late that he’s fucking dumb.

Kakashi knows, too, and infuses as much incredulity into his clarification as possible, each syllable dripping with a sickly-sweet undertone of are you fucking kidding.  “You said I smell, Obito.  All the time.  Why didn’t you tell me before?”

There’s no truly easy answer.  Because of course, Obito thinks Kakashi smells like burnt piss, but he doesn’t actually.  What he smells like is coffee, which is a perfectly reasonable thing to smell like, probably.

Assuming Kakashi drinks the stuff because if he doesn’t, then what the fuck?

“I hate the smell of coffee,” Obito says finally, after Kakashi reaches out and flicks him on the forehead for taking too long to answer.  He rubs at the spot where he’s sure the gesture has left a red smudge on his skin.  “You always smell like fucking coffee.”

Obito isn’t sure what he expects Kakashi’s response to be.  More incredulity, maybe.  Irritation.  Hands thrown up in the air and then a purposeful march out of his apartment.  An annoying dissertation on why coffee is wonderful and Obito is wrong.

Instead, Kakashi grins like a very smug cat, takes a step forward and presses his forehead to Obito’s, arms crossed over his chest like the smug, self-assured bastard he has (almost) always been.

Obito bristles, mostly because the move is unfamiliar.  For all Kakashi enjoys making people uncomfortable, he typically uses his words to do so.  The proximity of him, the coffee smell and the warmth of his skin and the faint tickle of his breath as he leans close to Obito’s ear are things typically reserved for the duration of their sex and that’s all.

Kakashi doesn’t like being close to people.  Obito understands why, respects the boundary for the most part.  He nearly topples backward trying to maintain any semblance of space between their bodies.

Then Kakashi rasps almost alluringly against his ear, “I own a fucking coffee shop, you dumbass.”

It occurs to Obito in that moment he has never bothered to ask where Kakashi works.  Their first meeting at that bar replays in his mind and he recalls Kakashi asking him what he did for a living, but Obito had gotten distracted by his momentary embarrassment and never returned the favor.

He groans loudly, leaning his forehead against Kakashi’s shoulder, which jostles as he chuckles at Obito’s expense.  Obito snorts, a short, half-hearted attempt at that self-deprecating humor he has so perfected over the years.  “Figures I’d fall for someone who smells like my least favorite thing.”

He pulls away, flustered and embarrassed.  The heat of his face is probably enough to warm that coffee cake like it’s fresh from the oven.  Obito wonders suddenly if the cake came from Kakashi’s shop.  Wonders where the shop is and what it’s like inside.

If they serve anything other than fucking coffee.

Kakashi’s fingers are rough against Obito’s jaw as he pulls him in for their first kiss of the day, but the kiss itself is gentle.  He doesn’t open his mouth, isn’t as greedy or demanding as usual.  And Obito relishes the temporary softening, the tender moment offered to him.  He clings to Kakashi’s shirt and tries to breathe as little as possible so the coffee stench won’t invade his nostrils.

Though, he must admit, at the moment, he cares a hell of a lot less than usual.  Because Kakashi’s kisses are delicate and coaxing, one hand skimming over Obito’s scars with a carefulness that makes his chest ache.

A carefulness he has never experienced before, not with anyone, and especially not with the man he knows deems himself responsible for their existence.

Obito pulls away first, finally in such desperate need of a full breath he can’t hold out any longer.  He doesn’t pull far, though, just enough to let his lungs expand without restriction.  And when his eyes meet Kakashi’s, the light in them is still there, less twinkling and steadier.

A porch light welcoming him home, peeling away the shadows to reveal safety and comfort.

“Let’s take a bath,” Kakashi says quietly, grinning.

Obito has the decency to laugh.  It’s a convenient enough sound, anyway, one which hopefully drowns out the erratic thudding his chest.  The hammer beat of a heart only now realizing Kakashi didn’t run away when Obito said he was falling, didn’t put up the cool partition Obito is so used to running up against every time he tries to open up, to be opened.

To drag the box out and bring its contents back into the light.

The tub is not large enough for two grown men.  Not really.  But they Tetris their limbs into the basin as well as they can, tangling together like brambles—perhaps just as prickly—and laughing at their own foolishness in unison.

“It’s smells like a department store in here.”

Obito splashes the scented water at Kakashi, who squints and spits.  “I need all the eucalyptus and lavender I can get my hands on to wash out your coffee shop’s stench.”

Kakashi leans back against the tub with a serene smile and closes his eyes.  “You should come visit sometime,” he offers and Obito knows it’s no small thing to be invited into Kakashi’s life even such a minor way.  He looks up to wink at Obito through the steam of the bathwater.  “Maybe not on roasting day, though.”

“You couldn’t pay me.”

His therapist will probably still tell Obito this is an unhealthy attachment at their next session.  But Obito thinks today is a step in the right direction, at least.  A limping movement toward the honesty that comes so hard to them both.

Maybe they can figure the rest out together, peel back all the layers and scars until they are raw and open to each other.  Until they can repair all the marks of their shared past, their fractured future.  Maybe.  Someday.

Obito likes the idea that his past and his future might yet be able to exist together.  That one day there won’t be any dusty boxes he has to carry around, regrets and secrets stuffed between tabs of moldy cardboard.  He likes the idea that maybe he and Kakashi can unpack together.  Build a bonfire afterward and burn away all the shit they no longer need to hold onto.

The smoke would smell better than coffee, at least.  And as long as Kakashi agrees to take a bath when he comes over, Obito thinks they just might be able to make this work.

[kamweek2023]

Prompts and Guidelines

September 7: First Date

September 8: College/Roommates

September 9: Exes/Breakup

September 10: Cowboy

September 11: Soulmates

September 12: Artist/Musician

September 13: Free Day

Guidelines:

Kam Week will take place from September 7th to September 13th! If you need extra time, submissions will be accepted up to months after the week ends, so long as it was intended for this week!

Tag @kamweek2023, @when-wax-wings-melt, and @did-i-say-you-could-get-up (aka @/honey-the-dinosaur-ate-our kid) and also tag your post with #kamweek2023

These creations can include any medium, including art, writing, moodboards, playlists, aesthetics, animatics, gifsets, edits, anything else you can imagine! We can't wait to see the creativity and excitement all the participants will pour into this week!

Feel free to post the prompts out of order as well! Whatever works best for you!

Send in asks if you have questions, clarifications, or just need to share your process!

[id: a series of images with tan backgrounds with black smoky wisps, with words in cursive reading "Kam Week Prompts:" the transcripts are listed in plain text below the cut /end id]

In plain text below the cut:

Kam Week Prompts:

1. First Date

This is a good day for beginnings. Perhaps they're asking each other out instead of actually being on the date. A blind date set up by friends, dating apps. Matchmaking, or meet-cute, or childhood rivals finally trying something new. Restaurants, movies, walks on the beach, arcade something unconventional; this can be sweet or end in disaster!

2. College/Roommates

Whether they've known each other for a long time or just met, whether they're grudging friends or full-on enemies, this is a fabulous pining day! Platonic besties/haters, only one bed, staring at each other in classes-- moodboard the hell out of their shared room and see the difference between their aesthetics! Make them clash in uncomfortable ways and then find the parts that make them work!

3. Exes/Breakup

This is a day for jagged edges and cracked picture frames. A big, explosive fight or a quiet day that ends with what they've seen coming for months, years spent apart, pressure from family, something needed or something wrong. right person wrong time, wrong person wrong everything. Make it dramatic, make it broken, make it red, make it the end or the beginning. This is also a day for second chances.

4. Cowboy

This is a day for fun! Plop them into a Wild West movie as actors, or onto a horse and into your father's barn because somehow you know it ain't the ale he's got a hankering for. They're kids playing pretend and then they grow up and it's not pretend anymore. They're taxed physically and mentally, they're water in each other's desert, this is the worst possible person to be stuck with in the dry heat and dust.

5. Soulmates

There are SO many possibilities for this one. Look up prompts and check them out! Sharing pain, feeling when the other lies, sensory deprivation (colorblind, no music, etc) until they meet, numbers count down until they meet, red/blue string, sharing skies or handwriting, tattoos, matching superpowers, drawings will show up on skin, and so much more! Remember, this doesn't have to be strictly romantic-- mix things up!

6. Artist/Musician

Also included in this prompt is "poet". Keefe is a painter, always having ink or paint splattered on his clothes and hands, colors smeared on his cheek and caught under his fingernails. Tam is a musician and a poet, scribbling lyrics that he will sing with his guitar, or flute, or whatever. They're in a band together, or one is a famous singer that the other styles or writes for, Keefe finds Tam's poetry journal, one teaches piano to the other, anything!

7. Free Day

This is a wonderful day to incorporate your culture and see how that breaks the norms! Make them mermaids and pirates, childhood friends or royalty or vampires. Use nonverbal/sensory overload, death and resurrection, gods or superheroes, mythology or old age, enemies or villains, anything you want.

[3terna15unshin3]

Then Because She Goes

Cry, I will love you, love you, love you

★ Chapter 13 of 15, 3498 words

★ Matty Healy x Original Female Character

★ warnings: angst, descriptions of grief and depression

<< 12

18 September, 2019

Matty was right. Everything was okay. Until it wasn’t, and Este got the call.

She dropped everything to catch a plane to London. A train would be too slow. She had to be with her family. The two weeks she spent there felt like some of the longest weeks of her life.

There wasn’t a moment that the universe let her mind rest—it was a constant buzz of anger, sadness, release. She was mad that bad things happened to good people. Sad that there was so little time left. And eventually, two Mondays later, it happened. Este thought that when it did, her emotions would peak and then she’d be on the comedown—slowly, she guessed. But it wasn’t. Every day felt like the worst of what was to come. And the worst kept coming.

The clothes draped on her body remained the same for too long. Even their musty stench that grew as time passed couldn’t inspire her to change, so Cate had to force her out of them. She’d been helpful through those horrid weeks, constantly checking up on her best friend, even coming down to London a couple of times to take Este’s mind off of things and attempt to bring her back down to earth.

Two days after the dreaded Monday, they came back home to Manchester to grab some more of their things. Enough to last them through the weekend and however long Este felt she would need to stay. Work was a worry, but it didn’t matter to her as much as it probably should have.

After helping her flatmate pack another bag and essentially petting her head to sleep, Cate considered how intensely Este’s life had been put on hold to make room for her grief. There was no time to make new memories when she was all consumed with trying to cling to the ones with Florencia. Este was terrified of the reality that one day she’d struggle to remember them as brightly as they once were.

Cate thought about the increasing number displayed in the red notification bubble at the corner of her Messages app, and the people waiting to hear from her. The plans Este must have had, and their inevitable rain-checks. That’s when Matty came to mind. She decided that sending him a text would aid in planning their accommodations back in London, in case of some small chance that he’d have time to be there for the rites.

Matty Healy (famous)

Yesterday at 20:50 PM

hey. i thought i’d let you know that the funeral is on saturday morning. wasn’t sure if este invited you out but i know she’d want you there

i also have no idea where in the world you even are rn

so if you can’t make it then don’t worry

Today at 06:04 AM

Funeral????

I haven’t heard from her since this past Saturday

What’s going on

oh my god. she didn’t tell you

i’m so sorry you had to find out this way and that it isn’t coming from este but her nan passed away on monday.

Shit

I don’t know what to say, I’m so sorry

Can I ask what happened?

she’s been in remission for a couple of years, but in mid august ish she got super sick again. everything happened really fast and there weren’t any treatment options.

so at the beginning of september este went down to stay with josé in the house. the whole family went. they at least got to be with each other for her last couple of weeks

Is she still there in London or are u guys in Manchester

she just arrived back to the flat to pick up more of her stuff and figure out her leave from work and stuff with sam

we’re staying the night but heading back tomorrow. wake is on friday morning and the funeral the next day

Was just trying to figure out if somehow I could make it but I’m in Auckland

Would take days on a plane and we have a bunch of Australian shows coming up

I don’t think theres a way

it’s ok matty. she’ll understand

sorry for loading this all on you out of nowhere

No, thank you for telling me

Please let me know if there’s something I can do. Even from all the way out here

Anything

Today at 11:29 AM

i will

but also, just as a heads up, este really is not in a good place. she’s in good hands, so you dont have to worry or anything, but maybe just wait for her to reach out first before saying anything. hopefully you can understand why i ask that of you

hope your shows in australia go well x

Of course I understand x

Thank you Cate

Matty’s heart broke for Este and her family when he read the texts sitting in his notifications after his long plane journey out to New Zealand. In the car ride over to the hotel, Hann took note of how unusually his mouth was pressed into a flat line as he furiously typed away on his phone, eventually asking him what was up.

“Cate’s just told me that Este’s nan just passed.” he explained, “She was just super vague at the start about a funeral and I haven’t heard from Este at all, so I panicked,”

“Did you think she was inviting you to Este’s funeral?”

“Dunno, really. ‘Funeral’ is just a scary word.” Matty continued typing as Cate’s responses came through.

“Shit. Sorry, mate.” said George, giving his condolences. “How old was she?”

“75. Cate’s saying it was cancer.” As he read more texts, the further it was explained.

“The nan with the gallbladder?” Ross asked, a contained amusement sitting on his face as he brought up the story he shared when the guys had first met Este and Cate.

Matty threw him a grimace. “Yes, Ross. I’m sure she had a gallbladder. But if you mean the one who was my nurse after I got mine removed, then also yes.” Despite how inappropriate his joke seemed, Matty was glad the mood lifted when it gained a couple bittersweet chuckles from the rest of the guys. “Este never told me about any of it, so I’m just a bit shocked,”

He’d been frozen with grief before, so he didn’t blame her for not saying anything. Letting her heal was necessary—and his feelings couldn’t matter less in this situation. Plus, the idea of sending a message was too scary. He didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, or want to overstep. So Cate suggesting he let Este come to him first helped him with the internal dilemma.

She almost regretted reaching out to Matty after discovering that Este hadn’t told him about Florencia. It felt like crossing a boundary; like something that should have been shared on her accord instead of by her best friend over text. To clear her conscience, Cate confessed what she had done as they sat on the train back to London the next day.

“Hey,” she started, to break the silence and grab Este’s attention. Her sad eyes looked up to acknowledge the conversation and her curious eyebrows raised.

“Yesterday I was thinking about where I’d be staying this weekend and if there would be enough room at your grandparents’ house. Which I know you said there would be—but it just had me thinking about everyone who may need accommodations for coming in from out of town—and I thought of Matty. Which in retrospect, was stupid in the first place, since his literal house is in London. Impulsively I just sent him a text without even asking you first, and I feel really guilty for intruding, especially since he let me know that you hadn’t told him or anything. So I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking in the moment, I just—“

A reassuring and gentle hand was felt on Cate’s forearm. It was Este’s, as if to say, ‘It’s okay’. She gave a soft smile and Cate showed one similarly, still holding her breath from the anticipation of what reaction the fact she revealed may conjure.

All she did was swipe away Cate’s auburn hair before leaning her head on her shoulder—where the hair once sat—so that the weight wouldn’t pull on it, sighing quietly. Este didn’t feel strongly about anything at that moment, letting the clunky sounds of the train and the presence of her best friend envelop her numbness.

It wasn’t an active decision to keep Matty uninformed. It was probably due to her refusing to believe it would ever come to the point of relevance. That if she didn’t admit that Florencia was sick again, then the gut-wrenching inevitability couldn’t be real life. And once it was—as much as Este craved the comfort she knew he’d provide her—she couldn’t be rational. It was an all-consuming paralysis.

The air in the house was heavy. Endless paperwork screamed for attention from the dining room table, so her parents and granddad were busy dealing with that; not saying much to the two girls as they entered. A touch on the small of Este’s back was given by José, who didn’t usually use his words to show his love for her anyway. The warmth from where his hand brushed against her lingered for a couple of long seconds.

Before Cate and Este reached the spare room they’d be sharing for the weekend, her mother stopped them.

“You should look at the flowers on the counter, E. They’re beautiful.” said Percy.

Setting her bags down, Este agreed and stepped back out to the kitchen. The bouquet that came into her view was huge. They had received flowers from a couple of people since Monday, mostly dainty and affordable and easy to look at. But this one took her by surprise; its full shape made up of the most colourful foliage she could imagine. Her Lola would have loved it.

You could sense Florencia’s kookiness from the loud and maximalist decor throughout her house. Este acquired the hoarding habits from her. She could recall a couple of times her nan commented on how boring she found pre-made bunches from the supermarket, and how she wished she could combine every different type of bouquet to have one that actually interested her. If someone told Este that her grandmother picked the flowers sitting on the counter in front of her, she’d believe them.

“Wow, they are beautiful.” She mumbled, about to ask her family if they knew who had sent them.

But, a note card stuck out of the top. Este flipped it open.

‘For Este-

Life is just as precious and beautiful as it is unfair. I am so sorry it has been unfair to you. I feel both lucky to have even briefly known Florencia, and also terrible that I can’t be there to support you. Thinking of your family always.

All my love

Matty x’

Her shaky hand grabbed the card and slipped it into the pocket of her sweats for safekeeping—her question now answered. One day she would be able to accept how thoughtful his words were, and even send him a message to say thank you. But that day wasn’t today.

-

23 September, 2019

Sam knew he had to hire another employee at Greenhouse to make up for Este’s absences.

Over the years, there had been many occasions where time off was needed by either her or Oliver or even the owner himself; so there were a few solutions they’d usually jump to. A couple of close friends of the store had been kept on the store’s payroll to jump in when needed. But, Sam had a feeling that he’d be in need of something more. Meeting Este when she was a mere nineteen years old, he was aware of the tightly knit family she possessed—and he had never seen her in the state she was in now. This was clearly world-shifting for her.

She tried to insist on coming back to work that Monday morning, only a week to the day of her grandmother’s passing. Sam could hear the quiet quiver in her voice when they spoke on the phone, already in the process of sorting through CVs and inviting potential hires for interviews. Not with the intent to replace Este, but to ensure she could take the full time she needed off without the pressure of letting the business down. Of course, he refused to make her travel all the way back to Manchester and firmly encouraged her to stay with her family for as long as she wished to.

So, Este stayed in London—for much longer than she expected to. Weeks went by and she was still there. Her mum and dad were forced to leave not long after the weekend of the funeral; on account of some dodgy conversation with their bosses about time off. It didn’t feel right to leave José alone in the house. Este felt his sorrow through their silence. They slept under the same roof every night, both shutting their eyes to be able to see the sparkling memories of Florencia that were painted on the inside of their eyelids.

She did a lot of sleeping, for that very reason. And randomly got really good at Scrabble. Her and her granddad had played a couple of times which sparked her interest, but it soon spiralled into Este playing against computers through an app on her phone for most hours of the day. She thought to herself, After this game I’ll get up and do something else. But she never got up and she never did anything else.

Her vocabulary expanded. Este even considered ordering a Scrabble dictionary off of Amazon. She paid for Prime, so it could even come tomorrow. It’s okay, she reassured, It’ll wear off. I won’t sit here and play Scrabble until the end of time.

But what if I do? she feared.

-

Percy came to visit quite frequently. To both make sure her father and daughter were holding up, all alone in London, and to feel closer to Florencia. The house still smelled like her. Sometimes, she’d have to remind Este to go out and buy groceries after seeing that they were running low; or convince José to pay his bills on time. He had a hard time remembering what day it was.

She brought Dano with her whenever she was over. It helped spike Este’s mood, though temporarily. Her voice would reach its excited high pitch when she heard his paws tap on the hardwood floor and shower him in the only love she had left in her.

Este liked letting her family’s golden retriever up onto her bed, even though the fur that he left behind sometimes made her sneeze in the middle of the night. She liked how warm he was and that the in-and-out of his breathing helped punctuate her thoughts.

One night, she took a break from resting her face against him and gave Cate a call. She was nice enough to come back from Manchester a couple of times to bring more of Este’s belongings from their flat, helping to make the spare room feel more like her own. Cate saw her grief for what it was and gave Este the rigidity that others were scared to. The words she had trouble saying to herself felt easier to believe when her best friend was on the receiving line. Gently petting Dano’s coat, her voice escaped with a tremble.

She talked about how after seeing a trailer for a film called The Farewell (that was coincidentally about a sick grandmother) on the telly a couple of days ago, she hadn’t turned it on since. How she thought rereading Little Women might comfort her, but then she reached the part where Beth dies and couldn’t finish it. How she dreamt of her Lola every night.

But alas, the ponderous energy of the air around her lifted slightly. And when Cate hung up, after both girls lost track of time and realised the late hour, Este leaned back down onto Dano like he was her pillow, surprised to find his fur all wet with her tears.

-

29 October, 2019

Following the release of the third single for Notes On A Conditional Form, Frail State of Mind, Matty and the rest of the band had a couple of weeks off before playing Pitchfork Music Festival in Paris. Though they were still busy writing, the time away from performing left Matty thinking about Este more often. Sure, he was sort of always thinking of her; but it felt elevated during their first long break since he’d last heard from her.

He had sent a couple of texts to Cate to make sure she was alright, but never felt entitled to know more than just that. So, he was shocked to see messages waiting for him, from Este. The sheer anticipation made his thumb shake as it clicked to open it.

E ★

Today at 18:11 PM

I know this is more than a month overdue, but thank you for the flowers and sweet message. They were the most beautiful we’d received. The whole family loved them, and I’m sure my nan would have too

Pls don’t feel bad about not coming in for the funeral. I remembered that you’d be too far and that’s ok. It’s me that should be sorry for not letting u know what was going on. You deserved to know. But I’d be lying if I said i was doing better. Things are still really hard

I hope u can believe me when i say that I really do appreciate you Matty. I know you would be there for me if I let you in. But im sort of struggling to let anyone in rn.

Sorry for spamming you, I will text soon x

Este theres nothing you should be apologising for

Losing my nan was one of the hardest things I’ve had to go through

I’m never more than a text away, just remember that xx

Congrats on the new song too, you can imagine I relate to it a bit. Lol

After those few messages, Matty stopped hearing from her. They gave him a bit of hope, so Este’s radio silence hurt him a little bit more the second time around. He gave up reaching out after just over a month of no responses. Once in a while he would send a text to Cate, just to snuff his fear of something worse going on, and she assured him that she was alive. Not necessarily ‘good’, but alive. Matty guessed that it was a sufficient response and eventually stopped pestering.

It felt odd to mix the song he wrote about her in the studio while they weren’t even in contact. With it only running for a couple of seconds more than two minutes, they didn’t spend an overwhelming amount of time on it. But, as Matty listened back to his buried vocals that sang the lyrics he wrote about Este and their short bursts of memories between dragging months apart, he couldn’t help but yearn for her.

He liked that the song was so short, and that the lyrics were hard to pick apart. It felt like a little moment. The final line, ‘Will you stay or wait?’ repeated through Matty’s head as they perfected the song’s shoe-gazey production, booming in his chest through its painful relevance.

When they reached America for their final leg of tour that year, her name was sketched into Matty’s ear whenever they performed I Couldn’t Be More In Love. But what about these feelings I’ve got, he thought—too literally.

He would meet a fan that had a dimple and would think of her. Or one that had a septum piercing. And think of her if he ever drove past a small book shop.

Then, inevitably, Matty could feel the brightest element of his life slowly dim to darkness—fading into a fleeting moment of his past. But the memory stayed, along with a small glimmer of hope. And he knew he’d be at her feet the minute Este wanted him there again.

14 >>

[moonxmagix]

A Room Full of Silence

A/N: Hey !! This is not what I usually post so I apologize. I really wanted to write about my feelings of these past few weeks/months. It was such a in the moment story, and was able to get it done in maybe 30 minutes max. Enjoy !

There I sat on the edge of my bed, in the deafening silence of my dimly lit room. It wasn’t clean by any means, clothes scattered, makeup taking up space on my vanity, posters hanging on the wall, some beginning to peel away from aging tape. 

I sighed while taking a bite of the donut that was bought for me at the end of the night. Another date, failed. I spent so much time getting ready and dedicating myself to this one person, ignoring anyone who dared to talk to me. Thinking anything would come from it. 

If they saw your room, that disinterest would only worsen between us I thought to myself. I got up  still in my uncomfortable date clothes tidying up my room. I normally would change as soon as I got home due to my sensory issues but I felt too numb. My body is almost trying to savor the moments of the night. 

Clothes were put away, put in the laundry, makeup was organized neatly in draws, posters hung up with new tape, plants were watered. I felt accomplished in my work, I checked the time to see it hit 1AM. My date clothes were put in the wash while I put on my t-shirt that sported my comfort character and pajama bottoms. 

My comfort character could never hurt me, they’d be perfect for me. Right? I thought to myself. 

I turned the lights off, my fairylights casting a faint glow making it hard but not impossible to see in my room. I took my glasses off and  reached for my phone, no messages or new notifications. I sighed, not even a “Hope you got home safe!” text. 

I went and searched for the content of my favorite character. Giggles filled the room as my infatuation grew deeper. I decided to check my dating apps and swipe. Finding a few men I thought weren’t too bad. 

~

My alarms blared and I hesitantly arose from my coffin. I did nothing but rot there anyway. I went about my morning and decided to check my dating apps. One guy in particular caught my eye, long brown hair, dead sleepy eyes, skinny, almost dead, just my type I thought. We clicked instantly and our energies bounced off perfectly against one another. 

After spending a week talking we decided to meet up at my place for a movie night and some takeout. We matched even better in person, calling me beautiful, telling me how he liked my stretch marks and how they complimented me perfectly. Unable to keep his hands off me for a second, whining when I had to get up even a couple seconds. 

I knew this person was different, there was a special bond between us. He left that night and his smell lingered on my pillows, smiling from the joy of another person's touch. But that feeling soon changed, my lips tightened, my nose burned, and tears welled in my eyes. 

~

The second time we hung out, not even a date which is fine I guess. I’ll make an exception for him. Do I dare bring it up? Oh god no, you don’t wanna seem desperate do you? Let him make the moves. 

There he stood at my door, dressed in sweatpants and a band t-shirt. Similar to something I’d wear, I talked to him about my sensory issues and he understood surprisingly enough and said he related to me. It was such a sigh of relief not having to explain yourself and the way you acted. 

He left again that night, smiling and giggling, smelling, showering, and then crying. At least he told me he had a good night, right?

~

This is the third time he’s coming over! Maybe I’ll dress up a little more, maybe then he’ll ask me. Right? We cuddled, watched movies, talked about the stuff we love and dream about, we laughed until he spoke, “Just so you know, I’m not looking for anything serious,” my face drops. 

The energy shifted and he knew that. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you sooner. We can still do this though with just no strings attached,” he said, trying to sound remorseful. I just nodded, clenching my jaw to stop myself from crying. “Yeah,” is all I could say, choking back tears. 

The rest of the night was tense, not much touching went on. Conversation was dim and held no substance. What did I do wrong? My apartment was clean. My makeup was done up nicely, not too heavy but not too light. Did I say something? Is it because of how I look? 

“It’s getting late, I should go,” he said, his words uncomfortable and awkward. I led him to the door, not even taking him fully out like I would usually do. Not a “goodnight”, not a “I’ll see you again”, not a “I had fun”. Just an odd, uncomfortable smile and wave. 

~

I shut the door and locked it, the sounds of the horror movie we were watching filled the room. The screaming and pleading of the victims were comforting to me this particular night. Is it because they were suffering along with me? 

I sat at the edge of my bed and sighed. Looking at my disheveled room, I didn't think it could get this messy this quick. The dissociation kicked in, there I sat frozen in place for hours. Unable to do anything with myself.

I pushed myself back into bed, clothes remained scattered scarcely along the floor, posters remained un-taped, food scraps and garbage remained on my nightstand, plants remained unwatered. 

But the next one will be different, right?

[odoraful]

𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐆𝐎 𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄?

your classmate wants to go on a blind date with your crush and asks you to organise it ! how will you navigate this tricky situation?

content: modern au, ft. genshin characters x reader, 1.3k words a/n: this felt like a cheesy shojo plotline so my imagination just started running 🏃‍♀️

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˗ˏˋ꒰ PROLOGUE ꒱ˎˊ˗

“Could you please set me up with him?”

Your classmate has their hands clasped together, their eyes pleading at you. You mentioned off-handedly how you were close with the guy given the high honour of ‘campus crush’. Since then, they’ve been hounding you to arrange a blind date. 

Trying not to show your exasperation was getting more and more difficult. Every conversation somehow ended up having him in it. It was also even harder hearing them infatuate over someone you had liked for so long. Yes, you know the way his eyes light up whenever he gets excited, and how handsome he is no matter what he wears — you get that loud and clear! However, you knew they wouldn’t stop until you had at least tried to set something up. 

“Alright!” You lift your hands in surrender. “I’ll see what I can do.” You say, resignedly. 

Your classmate tackles you with a side hug, cheering with excitement. “You’re my hero! Thank you!” 

You pat them on the arm. Perhaps this was actually a good thing.  You’ve spent too long pining after your close friend, and his popularity meant he could easily find someone to be with. It wouldn’t be hard for him to fall for someone nice and approachable like your classmate.

Staring off into the distance, you wonder just how you’re going to approach this. 

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꒰ wanderer, xiao, cyno, kazuha ꒱

“No.” 

You barely finish the question before he abruptly answers, not even looking up from his laptop screen. The clicky noises from his typing punctuating the blunt response. You were visiting his place for the day to get some work done together. Though, you devoted more time to trying to find a way to ask the question rather than focusing on your tasks. 

Crossing your arms on the table, you lean in, trying to gauge exactly what kind of reaction he’s having to this. “Come on, you don’t even want to entertain the idea of finding a partner?” 

He sighs, fingers going still. Sensing this topic wasn’t dropping anytime soon, he closes his laptop screen halfway to get a better view of you. 

“Why would I want to meet someone new?” 

His sudden attention towards you made your thoughts scramble, and the response you had ready fizzles away. He rests his face in his hand, head tilted. Hair tousled slightly, eyes shining with curiosity — it's enough to cause your breath to stutter. You could curl up with embarrassment at how your cheeks still grew hot when he looked at you a certain way. 

Maybe I should have just texted him about this… 

“W-well it’s not just about meeting a new person, there’s the potential for falling in love as well.” 

He lets out a soft chuckle, sounding unconvinced at your words. Your heart sinks a little. Did he really not want to find a partner? It was just more evidence of your one-sided love. 

“I think I have all the people I need in my life already. And besides…” He turns his head, darting his eyes away from your gaze. “What if I already have someone I love?”

The air stills. 

Trying quickly to compose yourself, you exaggerate a gasp. “You like someone and you’ve never told me before?!”

Covering your mouth with both hands, you press your fingers together to stop them from trembling. 

He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I have for a while now.”

Now is the time for you to curl up with embarrassment. You couldn't believe it. All this time he had a crush on someone. You knew your chances were slim to begin with, but this really hammered that point home. You need something to distract you right now. 

Picking up your phone, you quickly unlock it and swipe to find your message app.

“I’ll text my classmate that you said no to the blind date for obvious reasons.” Your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes as you jokingly say, “And then you should go and actually ask your crush out so they don't think I’m lying.”

With your eyes averted from his face, he hangs his head, exhaling a shaky breath. You're about to press send on the message when you hear him clearing his throat.

“Okay then.” Looking up, you notice an unfamiliar shyness on his face. “(Y/N),"

Realisation hits you. This had to be a dream right? Your body reacts before your thoughts can even catch up — heartrate quickening, stomach fluttering. There's no way the next words out of his mouth would be-

"Would you like to go out with me?”

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꒰ childe, lyney, wriothesley, kaeya ꒱

His eyes go wide, before a smirk emerges on his lips. “A blind date?” He pops a spoonful of cake in his mouth, a pause for emphasis. “With who?”

You take your own spoon and tap away his one from taking another big piece. You thought the best chance to ask your question was when there was something sweet in front of him. Plus, the lively, unintelligible chatter and the whirring of the coffee machine in the café served as good background noise for any potential awkwardness on your part. You already feel a twinge of envy at how interested he seemed. 

“One of my classmates. We met at the start of this semester.”

He folds his arms, eyes narrowing at you. “Describe them for me. I need to know more about their personality before I make any hasty decisions.”

You roll your eyes. “Now doesn’t that defeat the whole ‘blind’ part of the blind date?”

“It doesn’t have to be detailed! I just wanna know what they’re like.”

Acquiescing to his wishes, you describe your classmate. You didn’t want to betray them, so you told him a faithful account of what they were like — outgoing, lively, sweet. The more you recounted details about them, the more you realised how perfect they would be with him. Once you finish your pitch, you take a piece of cake for yourself, scooping extra whipped cream from the top. Anything to make the lump in your throat go away. 

He hums in thought, then nods to himself, coming to some kind of conclusion. 

“Sorry. They don’t really sound like my type.”

Huh? You stare blankly at him.

“But they’re so nice! You would look so good together!” Your unexpected passion at defending your classmate causes him to lift a brow. “And besides, I didn’t realise you had a type.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” He says, matter of factly.

You busy yourself by aimlessly playing around with the remaining piece of cake with your spoon. Of course everyone has someone they gravitate towards. Even you, and that person was sitting right here. 

You’re almost afraid to ask this question, but your curiosity gets the better of you. “Well go on, what kind of person do you like then?” 

Almost like he was waiting for you to ask, he becomes animated as he talks. “Well, they need to be fun to hang out with, and definitely have similar interests as me.” 

He eyes your face and smiles.

“And I find it cute if they’re a little clumsy. Especially when it comes to eating cake. For example, they might have some cream in the corner of their lip right-” 

He reaches his hand towards your face. Your brain malfunctions when he lightly rests it beneath your chin and swipes a thumb over the outside of your lips. Pulling his hand back, you see remnants of the whipped cream you ate. 

Does this mean he...!? You repeat over and over in your head. The feeling of his touch lingers on your skin, tingling.

He grins at your dumbfounded expression, licking the cream off his thumb. “-here.”

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