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hufflepuffhollander · 4 years ago

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off limits: tom holland one-shot

a/n | this is my submission for @chloecreatesfictions’ 1k writing challenge! i’ve never done the “brother’s best friend” trope and i def got a little too excited and carried away! real talk, this might be the cutest thing i’ve ever written

summary | as harrison osterfield’s younger sister, you’d always just seen his best friend tom as an annoying older brother. until, one day, you didn’t.

cw | tom x osterfield!reader. contains language, alcohol, recreational use of weeeed, teenage angst, sexual tension, fluff n’ stuff. 5k words.

For as long as you could remember, Tom Holland had been a stitch in your side that you could never get rid of.

Growing up as your older brother’s best friend, he was always at your house when you were children— and his favorite pastime when Harrison was boring him was to break into your room and mess with you, stealing your toys or running his hands across the piano keys when you were trying to practice in peace. No matter how many locks you put on your door just to keep Tom out, he was always able to pick them.

As you all got older, he grew to annoy you in a different way, blasting loud, grungy music through Harrison’s bedroom walls late at night or eating things out of the fridge that clearly had your name on them. Once he’d started to garner some attention as an actor, his ego skyrocketed, and somehow he became an even bigger nuisance. He dragged Harrison away from you and took him all over the world while you had to sit idly by and love your brother from a distance.

When Tom would come over now, he would talk of nothing but hollywood parties and getting drunk with the biggest a-listers when he knew you were listening. He would ignore you when he breezed past you in the hallway, and even had the audacity to go into your bedroom when you were out and smoke a blunt on your bed so your whole room smelled like a music festival when you got home; and worst of all, it was your weed.

It was sufficient to say you were Tom Holland’s least enthusiastic fan. And it was rather unfortunate, because you were a big stan of the MCU—and secretly loved getting high and watching and re-watching the spider-man movies the most. Okay, don’t make that face. They have a good storyline.

It was a regular Friday night, you were aimlessly scrolling through your phone while Harrison and Tom were getting ready to go pub hopping. Harrison always invited you, but you never took him up on his offer because you knew how flirty you got with alcohol in your system and wouldn’t dare feel that way around Tom. He was notorious for taking anything nice you said about him and rubbing it in your face for at least a week after.

“You know you secretly love me, babe.”

You hated when he called you babe, and he knew it. But since you’d both grown up, time had done you both a favor, and there was always an air of something you couldn’t quite place your finger on whenever you interacted...the pet name just made it more interesting.

“Hey, y/n, are you sure you don’t want to come out with us?” Harrison yelled from outside your bedroom door, and you peeked your head out to respond.

“Nah, it’s fine, Haz, go have fun. I have enough uni work to keep me busy.”

“It’s a Friday night, nerd.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and smiled. “Sorry I’m not a budding alcoholic like you, big bro.”

He laughed, blew you a kiss, and he and Tom were off.

Only about an hour later, you decided to take a break from studying and light up a joint, turning on your go-to movie for background noise- but were snapped out of your vibey trance when you heard the front door swing open, and your brother’s loud, drunk voice.

“W-why are we h-home, you div,” he slurred, as his heavy footsteps start to climb the stairs. After a long moment, you heard him collapse on his bed through your thin walls, still stammering out his words. “Thomas, I promise you, I am fineeee...”

“Mate, you’re sloshed. Go to bed.”

You decided to leave them be. This was a typical occurrence- one of the boys went too hard too early, and the other had to babysit until they made it home to pass out cold, usually on the bed, or the couch, or on a good day, the floor.

A few minutes passed while you hotboxed your room, feeling amazingly relaxed, until you saw your doorknob wriggling out of the corner of your eye. Your door was locked, so you ignored it. But the knob kept twisting and falling back in place, making the whole frame shake. After a long while of witnessing a ghost try to make its way into your room, you watched your lock turn slowly and click out of place, the door creaking opened to reveal Tom, swatting at the air when a cloud of smoke greeted him.

You snapped your laptop closed before he could hear his own voice flowing out of your speakers. “Tom, for the last time, stop picking my fucking lock!” You beamed your nearest pillow at him—which he caught before it struck him—and he threw it back, hitting you square in the face. Of course.

He flashed a cocky smile. “Why? It’s so easy.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m serious! I could’ve been naked or something!”

He just stood in the doorframe, giving you a once-over in your thin cotton t-shirt and yoga pants, and kept that smug expression locked on his face.

“Ew, Tom, you’re disgusting. Get out.”

He decidedly did not get out, instead closing the door behind him and hopping up next to you on your bed, the divot in your mattress leaving your bodies pressed much too close together. You were met with a strong whiff of his cologne and the gin he must’ve been drinking earlier. “I’ll take that,” he muttered as he lifted your joint out of your fingers and took a puff, sucking his breath in as his lungs filled.

Your stomach filled with a dull fire and you narrowed your eyes. “Do you mind?”

He turned to face you and blew a big puff of smoke directly into your face, the notorious smirk making its reappearance. “Not at all, thanks for asking though.”

You groaned aloud. “What are you doing in here?�� he took another draw and handed you back what was rightfully yours, smoke dissipating from his mouth as he spoke.

“Haz is pissed and I’m bored.”

You relit the bud and inhaled for a long while, figuring you’d need to be pretty intoxicated to not smack him in the face if he tried to talk again. “Well, go be bored somewhere else. I was busy.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you and reached across your lap for your computer. “Doing what?”

Oh shit. “Dude, can you not-?!” you yelped, but he had swiped it too quickly out of your grasp, and opened it up to find himself paused on your screen. You laid back on your bed so he couldn’t see your cheeks now flushed with embarrassment and grabbed your lighter from your nightstand. It was going to be a long evening.

He leaned himself over to catch your eye and had the stupidest, most prideful look plastered across his face. “Gotcha.”

You punched him in the arm as he erupted into laughter—but the anger inside you had been dulled by the weed and replaced with a childlike silliness—and you started to giggle, too. You looked up into his eyes, pupils now wildly dilated and tinted red around the edges.

“Shut up, Tom, you’re high,” you said in between chuckles.

“Yeah? Well so are you!”

You poked fun at each other for a while, suddenly in a mutually fantastic mood. You knew in the back of your mind that none of this would be happening if you hadn’t gotten stoned together, but you enjoyed the warm company anyway.

“Well, you gotta finish it, don’t you?” he said, settling back down and fixating the computer on his lap so you could both see it.

“You really want to watch your own movie?”

“Doll, it’s my favorite thing to do.” he smiled at you.

“God, you’re the worst.” you felt some butterflies make an entrance in your chest that had never been there before.

He pressed play and cozied up on your bed, lying back against the wall with his arm lazily draped behind you. You pulled a blanket up onto your lap and had really no choice but to lean on him for support, neither of you admitting out loud that you were full on cuddling and not angry about it.

“Hey, aren’t you gonna share?” he whined, pulling at the corner of your blanket.

“Get your own,” you responded, internally high-fiving yourself for finally getting the chance to sass him back. Sure, you had your head comfortably resting on his shoulder, but that didn’t mean you were suddenly friends.

You let the movie play, the two of you blowing through the joint until it was a dwindling nub. The scene where Peter has his big kiss with MJ started, and you stifled a snigger as their lips met on the screen.

Tom had clear offense laced through his words. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged.

He sat up to look at you, eyebrows knit together in an angry pout. “Tell me.”

“I just...feel bad for Zendaya, that’s all.” you covered your mouth to keep from laughing, and his eyes rolled so far back into his head you were sure they’d be stuck that way forever.

“You’re such a brat,” he started, his ego finding its old place back in his voice. “I’m an amazing kisser. She told me herself.”

You looked away from him, taking a heavy exhale. “Yeah, whatever, dude.”

He sat even more upright and paused the movie, taking hold of your shoulder to make you turn to him. “What, you don’t believe me?”

You realized then how physically close you had gotten, as you could feel the syllables of his words in his breath hitting your face. He was doing that thing boys do, when they’re thinking about kissing you but don’t- their stares going back and forth between your lips and your eyes in a not so subtle way. It freaked you out to see him that close and personal, and you whispered back exactly what you knew would irk him the most.

“Nope.”

He moved his face impossibly closer to yours, and you felt his soft lips lightly brush over your own. You weren’t sure if this was real, or just a high hallucination, but you didn’t move away. This was entirely uncharted territory.

“Tooommmm!” you heard Harrison yell out from the other side of the wall. “Where are yooouuu?! I’m so thirsty!” Tom immediately jerked his head away from you and shook himself out of the moment. You brought your hand up to your cheek and shuddered at how hot it had become- your own body was betraying you.

“God, he’s gonna be the death of me,” Tom said, shoving himself off the bed and walking out of your room, glancing back at you for a moment and then closing the door behind him. Just like that, he was gone, and you were left trapped in your own psyche wondering what the hell had just happened.

Over the course of the next week, things has become exponentially weirder between you and Tom. He seemed to be spending much more time at your house than he normally did, even sleeping a few nights there instead of driving the five minutes back to be in his own bed. One unsuspecting morning, you knocked on your bathroom door, annoyed that it had been shut for such a long time.

“Haz, if you use up all the hot water again, I’m gonna kill you,” you said in between knocks. You were taken by surprise when it swung open, steam billowing out into the cool air.

“Whoops,” you heard a voice say, immediately realizing it wasn’t your brother. You took a step backward to see Tom emerge, wearing nothing but a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp and clinging to his forehead, and he looked like some glowing magazine model.

“Uh, sorry,” you stammered, accidentally inhaling the yummy smell of his soap and shampoo emanating off of his skin.

He noticed you eyeing him and a sly grin appeared as he rolled his bottom lip under his teeth. “Shower’s all yours, babe,” he said, bumping your shoulder with his own as he walked away. You were stuck in place and didn’t see him glancing back at you as he wandered down the hallway.

Another day after that, Tom and Harrison were looking for a certain record to play, but it was nowhere to be found. “It might be in y/n’s room,” Harrison said, sitting back in his lounge chair. “Wanna go grab it?”

Tom coughed. “Why do I have to get it?”

“Because I’m comfortable.”

Tom felt a mix of annoyance and nerves in his chest as he walked the short distance down the hallway to your room where the door was already cracked open. He invited himself in—excitement faltering a little when he saw you weren’t in your usual spot on your bed—and started to sift through your bookshelves.

You had been in the bathroom getting dressed after your shower, but realized you left your shirt in your closet- and seeing that Harrison’s bedroom door was still shut, you figured it was safe to run across the landing into your room without anyone seeing you. In just a bra and spandex shorts that left little to the imagination, you swiftly made your way across the hall and walked through your door that was still open a crack to see Tom kneeled down as he shuffled through your record collection.

He heard your small gasp when you entered to find him, and swiveled around to you standing only a few feet away from him in the least amount of clothing he’d ever seen on you. He abruptly stood up but didn’t move, eyes sparkling as they rolled down your body.

“What the fuck! Why are you always in my room?!” You were too shocked to think about finding something to cover yourself with, and put your hands over your face, trying not to die of embarrassment. Tom remained glued to his place on your carpet, clearly at a loss for words.

“Tom, can you leave please-”

“Right, yeah, okay, uh, bye-” he hurried out of your room, swinging the door almost shut but leaving just a crack so he could speak into it.

“...I like your shorts.”

“TOM!”

He chuckled and closed the door, and you slumped against the wall, still holding your head in your hands. What was this sudden hold he had over you? And why did you love the way that he was staring at you?

That night, you had a big paper to complete, and you were perched in your bed typing away as it got dark. In between two songs on your playlist, you heard the familiar jiggle of a doorknob. Looking up over your screen, you watched as the metal turned in its socket, and heard a soft “crushed it” as the lock undid itself. Your door opened steadily and slowly, a familiar face peeking in at you.

“Hi.”

“Oh sweet jesus,” you mumbled.

“You busy?”

“Clearly.”

“Cool.” Tom let himself into your room, shutting the door behind him and sauntering over to your bed, sitting down next to you, bouncing like a little kid and singing his words. “Whatcha doooin’?”

“Homework,” you said, continuing to type and trying your best to ignore the way the sound of his voice was waking up something electric inside of you. He leaned into your body to peer at your computer screen, pretending to be interested in whatever you were writing about. His elbow got in the way of your hands, and you had to stop typing.

“Thomas, is there something I can help you with?”

“Haz is asleep,” he said, resting his head on your shoulder like it hadn’t been a week since your almost-kiss and you hadn’t been actively avoiding bringing it up.

You felt jittery. “And?”

He gently pushed your hands away from the keyboard and closed your laptop shut, giving you a sheepish smile. “Wanna get high?”

Honestly, you did.

You turned on your lamp and turned off the overhead light, put on that record he finally found, lighting a candle and then another hand-rolled blunt. This time, Tom sat upright with you perpendicular to him, your legs swung over his lap. When he made a joke, he’d give your leg a little squeeze- and whether it was purposeful or not, you were filled with schoolgirl nerves every time it happened.

All the angsty barriers built up over years of a sibling-like rivalry had come down between the two of you as you smoked together; you suddenly found all of his bad jokes funny, and he couldn’t peel his eyes away from the cute way you scrunched your nose when you laughed. Every time you exchanged the blunt, you couldn’t help but think about how his lips had just been on it a moment before yours. The night came and went, and you ended up falling asleep wrapped in his arms as he dozed off with his chin pressed to your forehead.

You both woke up at the same time in the dead of night, unsure of how late it had gotten. Still nestled into each other, you exchanged sleepy glances and no words, taking a moment to realize the position you had put yourselves in.

Tom grazed your jawline with the back of his hand and lifted up your chin with his thumb. You let your eyes flutter shut and he kissed you in the dark for one long, everlasting moment. He pulled back from you hesitantly, leaving you breathless. Did that really just happen?

“We...we can’t,” he whispered, his words tinged with sadness.

Your heart broke for him just hearing his voice. “Why not?”

“You’re my best friend’s little sister, y/n.”

“And you’re my brother’s best friend. So what?” you were almost upset with yourself for being so vulnerable; so visibly pining after him.

“So, you’re off limits,” he said, resting his forehead against yours.

“Says who?”

That prompted Tom to meet your gaze again, and this time you took initiative, moving your face to his and taking his bottom lip in between yours. He took a sharp inhale as you kissed him and seemed to let all inhibition go as he put his arms around your back and pressed you into him hard, all of his pent up feelings for you suddenly flowing out of him. He kissed you in a needy, desperate kind of way, and you loved every second of it. You ran your fingers through his hair, traced his jawline, using your hands to feel every bit of him that you couldn’t before. The strangest part of it all was how natural it felt- like you had been practicing for this very moment all your lives.

Your record had stopped spinning a while ago, the room now filled with just the breathy noises of your kisses, your contented hums and his tiny mews when you bit his lips. You were both still barely lucid, and after countless minutes of nothing but innocent kisses, you were on the brink of falling asleep again, serotonin whisking you away into dreams. Tom sighed into you, and clasped his hand around yours.

“I have to go.”

“What? Why?” you felt your heart preeminently sink in your chest; like you should’ve known this was too good to last.

“I don’t want him to wake up and find us here,” he trailed off, staring down at your intertwined fingers fiddling together.

“So that’s it?” you tried to swallow back the sudden upwell of feelings inside you.

“No, no...” his eyes filled with some type of emotional strain you’d never seen. “I- I don’t want this to be it. But I don’t want things to get...messy.”

Unfortunately, you couldn’t blame him, because you understood.

“Can you come back tomorrow night?” you whispered, very not ready to let his spot next to you grow cold.

“I don’t know...”

You looked up at him doe-eyed, cooing. “Please?”

He nodded, looking away from you before he completely caved and stayed there forever. “I’ll come back.”

He pressed one last kiss onto your lips and slowly got up, reluctantly letting go of your hand as he left your room. “Goodnight, babe.”

Hearing him call you babe, finally free of demeaning sarcasm, made your heart soar.

“Goodnight, Tom.”

The door shut and you were left alone, the stillness of your room sticking out in sharp contrast with how quickly your heart was racing.

For the next few nights, Tom spent the evenings at your house with Harrison, waiting until he fell asleep to make his way next door to you. You’d smoke together, watch his movies—and in heated moments got a little handsy—but you never went past kissing, though you both desperately wanted to. It was too risky having your brother right next door; and you knew all too well how paper thin your walls were. But in those secretive hours after solar midnight, just being able to exist next to Tom and letting him hold you, you were the happiest you could ever remember being. The second night he left your room to let you sleep, he placed a light kiss on your forehead after he stood up that made the whole thing feel a little too...real.

The next day, you walked into the kitchen and found Harrison at the fridge. You were in a great mood for obvious reasons but couldn’t let it show. “Hey, got any fun plans today?”

He turned around after shoving a handful of grapes in his mouth. “Nope, got some admin stuff to do and gonna turn in early.”

“Oh, Tom isn’t coming over?”

“No, I told him to take a night off. He’s been smothering me, y’know?” he laughed and ate a few more grapes, but then turned to you, confused. “Since when do you care if he’s coming over?”

You swallowed, unsure of what to say. “Just want to know if I need to stay out of the way,” you faked a laugh and blinked hard, hoping he wasn’t paying too much attention to your facial expressions.

“Uh, alright then. You two are always so fuckin’ weird around each other.” He seemed to feel that was a good way to end your exchange and walked out of the kitchen, throwing a grape at you.

You rolled your eyes at your brother, but then felt the sadness bubble up upon registering that you weren’t going to see Tom tonight. But really, how long did you think you could keep this up? The feelings you were developing for him scared you, you didn’t know what to make of them; all you knew was that your days suddenly seemed much grayer without him.

Nighttime came around, and you couldn’t sleep, so you did the unthinkable and sent Tom a text. Your thumb shook as you hit send, knowing that there was now tangible evidence of the connection you’d developed, that it wasn’t just some invention of your mind.

hey, are you awake?

T: yeah, can’t sleep. you?

obviously, i just texted you.

T: shut it.

A minute passed...

T: got room for one more over there?

You smiled like an idiot at your phone.

maybe.

Less than 10 minutes later, you heard the familiar wriggle of your doorknob. You don’t know why you even bothered locking it anymore.

“Hey you,” he whispered, carefully shutting the door behind him.

“Tom, you know you could’ve just knocked and I would’ve let you in- you don’t have to keep picking the lock.”

“Old habits die hard.”

You chuckled and stood up to greet him at your door as he unexpectedly wrapped you in an amazingly tight hug. He rested his chin on top of your head and started to sway your bodies back and forth. You laid your head on his chest and said hello to his heartbeat.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it was almost hard to fall asleep without you,” he murmured, placing another one of those domestic kisses on your scalp.

“Well, now you don’t have to.” you smiled. He waddled you backwards to your bed and you sat down as your legs hit the bedframe, prompting Tom to fall onto you as you giggled into his body that was now covering your face.

“Okay, goodniiight,” he said, refusing to move. You poked at his sides making him jump, and he grabbed your waist and rolled you on top of him. You instinctively leaned down so your lips could clash together in the way you were so used to, trying hard to not confess that you’d completely fallen in love with him when you finally had the breath to speak. He pushed your hair to cascade to one side of his face, and nuzzled your nose with his own, closing his eyes and humming with a smile. “Mmm.”

“Hmm?”

“Just happy.”

You rested your sleepy head on his warm chest, and fell into a deep sleep, letting the steady drumming in his chest be a metronome to breathe to.

“Oh, shit. Shit shit shit.”

You woke up abruptly, the bright light of day blinding you as you tried to open your eyes to the string of expletives you’d just heard come from a familiar voice. Once you’d opened them, though, you wish you had kept them shut so you hadn’t seen who had spoken.

“Harrison?!”

He was standing in your room, peering at you with hands half covering his eyes when you realized that there was a sleeping Tom underneath you.

Your brother paced in a circle and exhaled loudly. “Tell me I’m not seeing what I’m seeing.”

You nudged Tom awake with your elbow and immediately rolled off of him, trying to hide the very obvious fact that you had slept together all night. You never let him stay the full night for this exact reason, but he had been so ridiculously happy holding you in his arms that he forgot to set an alarm to wake him at the crack of dawn and leave. You sat up straight in your bed, twisting your hair in your hands, bracing yourself for the inevitable tirade.

Tom picked his head up to see Harrison standing there with his arms crossed, and flopped his head back on the pillow. “Fuck. Hey, mate.” He tried to play it off like this was the most normal thing that could happen on a Thursday morning.

“Is this why you’re always such bumbling fools around one another? You’ve been, what, fucking each other when I’m not around?” Harrison looked like he wanted to throw up at the thought.

“Haz, no, it’s not like that,” you said, but he didn’t seem convinced. “It’s just been smoking together and cuddling, really, that’s it,” you were torn between wanting to console your brother and admitting to both him and Tom that this was more to you than that. But Tom already knew that, because it was for him, too.

Tom looked like a deer in headlights. “I’m so sorry, dude-”

Harrison walked out of the room, and the two of you were left sitting in your bed, worry filling your eyes. Only a moment later, your brother reappeared in the doorway.

“Look, you idiots, I don’t care that you’re snuggling off the clock—you’re my two favorite people in the world, and to see you together, honestly, it’s about damn time,” he started, making both your and Tom’s jaws fall slightly agape. You exchanged a knowing look. Wait, is he not mad? Wait, about damn time??

“But I wish you would’ve told me so we could all hang out together. I don’t appreciate the sneaking around.”

You cocked your head at him, sending him a loving gaze for always just wanting what’s best for you.

“I’m just mad you aren’t including me in your hotbox sessions, really.” He laughed and ran his hands through his hair, pulling his face back to make a wild expression.

All three of you started to chuckle out of sheer awkwardness and relief.

“Come here.” Harrison held his hands out and you both gave a mutual aww as you ran into your brother’s arms, squeezing him tight.

“I love you, big bro.”

“I know. Now I’m gonna get out of here before you start kissing in front of me, or worse,” he moaned, swiftly exiting your room. “This is gonna be the grossest thing I’ve ever seen...” you heard him say to himself as he left.

You turned to Tom, still shocked at how well that had gone considering what he was assuming would happen. You swallowed the butterflies that you’d welcomed as friends and stepped back to him still sitting on the bed, putting your arms around his neck.

“And you,” you started, swinging your legs over his lap to straddle him. “I have to confess something.”

Tom placed his hands back on your hips where they rightfully belonged and smiled at you. “I’m listening.”

“I don’t mind you calling me babe anymore.” you grinned at his face drop, obviously assuming that you were going to say something else.

“Oh, and why’s that?” he prodded.

You looked up and off to the side as you squeezed his shoulders. “Maybe because I’m just a tad bit in love with you,” you trailed off, stiff as a board at what he could possibly say next.

“Well, babe,” he put emphasis on the pet name, “That’s a relief, because I was worried I might be the only one falling here.”

You grabbed his face and kissed him, kneading his soft cheeks under your thumbs, whispering exactly what you knew would get him the most.

“Nope.”

#chloe1kwritingchallenge #tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #best friend's brother #enemies to lovers #osterfield!reader

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boxofbonesfic · 3 years ago

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Hello! I have been following your work on AO3 for a good while and finally came here to follow you! (Sorry it took so long I haven’t been active on tumblr v much since the fall in 2018). I am a big fan of your work and I get so so so excited when I see that you have posted something new on AO3. I was just wondering (pls don’t answer if you feel uncomfortable) how old you are and how long you’ve been writing? Also, at what point in honing your writing techniques have you been confident enough to post/at what point did you feel that your work had greatly improved? I used to write a ton (esp on here and AO3) but once I started a full time job my first year in uni I fell out of it bc I was too busy. I finally graduated, and now I want to get back but I feel v discouraged/upset bc I feel like my writing isn’t great atm. Again, pls don’t answer if you don’t want to! Much love 💖

hi! omg, welcome to the dumpster fire 😅

i’ll be 31 in june, and i’ve been writing on and off pretty much since i could hold a pencil lol. i think most of us here were like that, always making up stories and writing them down. i started posting god-awful fanfiction when i was in middle-school and had no grasp of real writing techniques beyond “press buttons on keyboard, make words, tell story that is in brain”, lol. i was probably about 12 when i published my first fic on ff.net.

looking back on it, i was posting incomplete absolute drivel—but i was having fun, and that fun helped me build the tools i needed to write the way i do now. so i say you should always post, regardless of whether you feel like your work is good enough. there will always be someone who likes and supports what you’re doing, and if you do it long enough, more people will come to appreciate it.

i stopped writing between the ages of like 19-25, so i totally feel you there. it’s really hard to pick back up when you feel like your skills haven’t improved, or have gotten worse from disuse. reading a lot of new novels, and finding new fic authors whose work i enjoyed really helped me identify the areas i felt needed work in my own writing, and having people’s input on my progress and plot points was really helpful when i started posting.

i would say to start with something small! that’s what i did—if you go back, you’ll notice most, if not all of my works were one-shots, even if they were broken into two or more sections for readability. it’s okay not to have a big, fleshed out plot. i even looked up smut prompts on tumblr for ideas.

i hope this helps!

#ask the bones #get to know your bones

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drabbles-mc · 4 years ago

Text

My Plus-One (Part 1)

EZ Reyes x Reader

Request by the lovely @ly--canthrope: The reader has a large ball/award ceremony/something fancy to attend. Her and Ez have been in each other's lives for years and they make a promise that each year, if there is an event to go to, they would go together. Its been a few years since this tradition has played out, and it is brought up in conversation (maybe talking about their plans for that week, what they are doing and busy with etc) and Ez goes, “I am busy, I am going with you to your event” and he is a pure gentlemen (You can decide thing like; are they bordering that blurred line where they are really affectionate with one another and time frame like, he could be at uni still and travels to go see her just for this event because its special to her)

Warnings: none. just some good old pining 🥺🥺

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: I loved writing this so much wtf. I switched up the timing of it a little bit but I think it worked out well! I got a little carried away with it (hence the 3.4k lmao) but I just love EZ and I’m a sucker for friendships with feelings. Please enjoy! (requests are always open)

EZ Tag: @noz4a2 (if you wanna be added just shoot me a message!)

(Part 2)

You wandered around your small studio apartment, phone held loosely in your hand while you video-chatted with EZ. Both of you had long since given up on making sure that you held the camera at flattering angles. Besides, you were trying to make dinner and not even EZ could stop you from getting food.

“So glad I get to have this conversation with half of your face,” he laughed, shaking his head.

You held the phone up so you could get a better look at him—he was sitting at the table in his trailer, phone propped up as he typed away on his laptop. “This better?” you laughed as you tried to set it up on your counter so he could see more of your face.

“Much,” he smiled, “I miss you.”

You glanced over at him as you turned the stove on, “Miss you too, EZ.”

“So,” you could hear the clicking of his keyboard in the background, “what’re your plans for the week?”

“Meh, not a whole lot going on. I do, though, have a gala for work this Saturday.”

“Oh?” he raised his eyebrows, “Sounds fancy.”

You chuckled, nodding as you waited for your water to boil, “Yea, kinda. I was thinking,” you looked at him through the lens of your phone, “If you aren’t busy, and if you really miss me, you could maybe come and be my date. It’s all paid for and everything already. All you’d have to do is show up and be my arm-candy,” you batted your eyelashes.

“Ah, like the good old days.”

“C’mon, it’s been a while since one of us had to drag the other to an event that was way above our paygrade.”

“What’re you talking about? You just drove out to visit me last year for an event.”

You rolled your eyes, “Your patch-in party is not the same as a fundraising gala, Ezekiel. Although,” you laughed, “it was undoubtedly more fun than this is going to be.”

“Giving me the hard sell, Y/N,” he laughed and shook his head.

“If you’re too busy with club shit, I get it. I know I didn’t really give you much of a heads-up.”

“Well…” he dragged out the word, milking every letter for all it was worth, “I am gonna be busy.”

“Fuck,” you sighed, “I get it, I do. Sorry I always protcrastin—”

“Let me finish,” he smiled, “I’m gonna be busy with you, so I’ll let the guys know that my weekend is booked.”

You laughed, clapping your hands excitedly, “Yay! Oh, I can’t wait to see you. I feel like it’s been forever.”

“Because it has,” he waited for you to look back to your phone, “When was the last time you came back home to SanPa?”

You sighed, shaking your head, “God, like, six months maybe? Maybe a little more? Work has just been nuts, you know?”

“You think they’re gonna relocate you back closer to home any time soon?”

You shrugged, “Not sure. I hope so, though. I miss bugging you all the time in person not just by blowing up your phone.”

“Well, you’ll get to bug me in person all weekend. Text me your address and anything else I should know. I can probably come out Friday night if that works for you?”

You nodded, “Yea, that’s fine by me. You can crash here if you want but I gotta warn you, my place is wicked small.”

“I’m currently living in a trailer, Y/N,” he chuckled, “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“Alright,” your heart felt so much lighter knowing that he was going to be able to go with you—you hated going to these kinds of things by yourself, “I’ll text you all the details and stuff later this week.”

“Sounds good. Go back to making your gourmet ramen over there,” he chuckled, “I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

“Love you too, EZ,” you waved goodbye before hanging up the call. You let out a sigh of relief as you tucked your phone back into your pocket.

The week seemed to fly by. Any time that you felt yourself getting stressed, or overwhelmed, or homesick, you remembered that you were going to be able to spend the whole weekend with your best friend. It made the rest of your problems seem so insignificant. Every night you’d come home and you’d see your dress hanging against the door of your closet, begging to be worn. You’d smile and run your fingers along the fabric whenever you’d walk by it. Back when you were in high school and college, the two of you went to everything together. Each prom, award ceremony, induction ceremony, friends’ weddings, you name it, it was the two of you showing up together no matter what. You had your own unspoken language, knowing when the other was ready to tap out and call it a night. Sometimes to keep things interesting you’d try to sneak out unseen, other times one of you would come up with any excuse you could so that you could leave early without anyone giving you a hard time about it. It’d been a few years since either of you had an excuse to get dressed up together.

You were finishing cleaning up your apartment when you felt your phone going off in your pocket. You glanced down and smiled at the sigh of EZ’s name on the screen, “Hey, what’s up? Everything okay?”

“Yea. I think,” he chuckled, “I think I’m outside the right building? Everything looks the same here.”

You laughed as you walked over and peeked out your window. Sure enough, you saw him sitting, leaning against his bike, “I see you. I’ll be right down,” you hung up and made sure to close your closet door before heading downstairs to greet him.

You came barreling out the front door of your apartment building, tackling him in a hug. He laughed, sweeping you up off of your feet and swinging you around as he held you tight to him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, forcing him to hold you for a few moments. It had been way too long since you last saw him in person.

“I’ve missed you,” you mumbled against his neck.

“I’ve missed you too.”

You finally let go, dropping your feet back to the ground. You helped EZ get his two bags and had him follow you up the stairs to your apartment. You kept apologizing in advance for the fact that all you had was a studio, so there wasn’t going to be a lot of room, and there was no grand tour to give him. He smiled and shook his head, constantly telling you that he didn’t care.

You opened the door, dropping one of his bags next to the couch, “This is,” you chuckled, “my beautiful kingdom.”

EZ smiled as he looked around your apartment. It was a studio, so there wasn’t a whole lot of space, but it was all modern and renovated. He was impressed by how much you had managed to utilize the space. He also liked being able to see how you chose to decorate a space that was completely your own. The last time he got to visit you, you had been sharing an apartment with a roommate and the two of you had completely opposite tastes in décor. He liked the vibe you had created—a lot of bright, happy colors. He recognized some of the art on the walls as things you had commissioned your friends to make for you because you liked having things that were one-of-a-kind.

“This is a pretty great spot, Y/N.”

You smiled, “Thanks. It’s home for now,” you sighed, “I have no guest room to offer you, but the couch does pull out so you won’t be too crammed for the next couple nights.”

He chuckled, nodding, “I appreciate it.”

“You eat before you left?”

He nodded, “Yea I’m all set. Didn’t want to be taking any of your ramen from you.”

You gave him a playful slap to the arm, “So considerate.”

The two of you spent the night sitting on the couch together catching up, a show on the television just for background noise. It crept late into the night before the exhaustion started to show on EZ’s face. He had had a long day but he was enjoying the fact that he was actually face-to-face with you for the first time in months.

“I’ll let you get some sleep,” you smiled as you stood up off the couch, “If you’re up for it in the morning there’s a really good coffee spot a few blocks from here.”

He smiled, nodding, “Sounds good.”

“Bathroom is right through there if you wanna change. I’ll see you in the morning,” you leaned in and gave him a hug that you dragged out to last a little longer than you usually would, “Goodnight.”

The morning and afternoon flew right by, and before you knew it the two of you were getting ready for the gala. You chastised EZ for leaving his dress clothes in his bags for so long. All these years and he still hadn’t figured out that they needed to hang to cut down on wrinkles. You ironed out his slacks and shirt, impressed by the fact that he had also brought a suit jacket. It was an all-black ensemble that you knew would make your coworkers drool over him, and you were going to soak up every second of that.

You left the bathroom open for him to get changed as you retreated to the semi-privacy of the space that passed for your bedroom. You shimmied into your dress, pulling the straps up onto your shoulders. You zipped it up as much as you could without risking ripping any of the stitching, thankful that you had EZ to help you with it the rest of the way. You looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled, still loving the dress as much as you had the day you tried it on in the store.

You had settled on a deep burgundy dress. It was a little low-cut, but not so much that you felt overly exposed. It was floor length, and had a slit up to just below your hip that you could only see once you started walking. You had picked up some simple jewelry—a few gold bangles and a long necklace that draped down your chest. Deciding to pull the whole look together with your favorite pair of black heels. A little height boost when you were walking with EZ never hurt.

“Hey, EZ? Can you come finish zipping me up?”

You heard the sounds of his dress shoes on the hardwood. He poked his head around the half-wall that separated your bed from the rest of your apartment. His eyes grew wide as he took in the sight of you. He cleared his throat, trying to get his thoughts in order as he remembered the actual reason you had called him over.

You pulled your hair off to the side and turned so your back was to him, thankful that it gave the added benefit of hiding the giant grin on your face. He tried to be as gentle as possible, the rough pads of his fingers grazing lightly against your back as he pulled the zipper up the last of the way.

“You look amazing, Y/N,” he smiled at you.

“Yea, we clean up alright, don’t we?” you patted his chest, practically salivating over the sight of him in dress clothes for the first time in years. You reached and undid the top button of his shirt, allowing a little bit of his collarbone to be exposed.

“Feeling a little risqué tonight?” he chuckled.

“Who knows when we’re going to get to do this again?” you smiled, “Might as well make the most of it.”

“I was gonna offer to take you on the bike,” he laughed as he looked you up and down for the hundredth time in two minutes, “But I don’t think that dress would make it.”

You nodded, “You’re right. We’ll take my car,” you walked over and grabbed the small clutch that you had picked up just for this occasion, pulling your keys out of it, “You ready?”

“I think so,” he patted his pockets down to make sure that he still had his phone and wallet, “You gonna give me the dirt on all your coworkers on the ride over?”

“Of course,” you smiled as you ushered him out the door, locking it behind the two of you.

You parked the car at the venue and EZ all but leapt out of the car to come and open your door for you. You chuckled as he held his hand out to help you step out onto the pavement. He hadn’t even wanted you to be the one to drive there, but you insisted since he knew nothing about the area.

He gently wrapped his arm around your waist as the two of you walked into the venue. You knew that your coworkers weren’t expecting you to show up with a plus-one. You had been quite clear about the fact that you weren’t dating anyone, and that no one at your job interested you enough to break your, “I don’t date coworkers” rule. There were quite a few lax jaws as the two of you strolled into the event room. Anyone else might have been nervous, but EZ saw how much you loved it and he was eating up every second of it.

You brought him around and introduced him to everyone, reveling in the fact that his arm never left your waist. After a handful of introductions, you dragged him across the room to introduce you to your boss.

“Cynthia,” you smiled wide, “This is my friend Ezekiel. Ezekiel, this is my boss Cynthia.”

“Please, call me Cindy,” she held out her hand, eyes slowly raking over the man you had put in front of her, not that you could blame her, “It’s nice to meet you, Ezekiel. I have to admit, Y/N here is a bit of an enigma around the office,” she turned her attention to you, “You look amazing, by the way.”

You smiled, “Thank you, so do you. A little more than business casual, huh?”

She laughed, nodding, “That’s for sure,” she paused, “Also, don’t forget, it’s open bar. So help yourselves.”

You tapped your fingers together mischievously, “Ah, don’t mind if I do.”

“I’ll make sure to catch up with you two later,” she smiled at EZ, “It was nice to meet you, Ezekiel.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he nodded politely before she walked away, swept up in a sea of other conversations.

“Remind me to keep a close eye on you around her,” you laughed, “Don’t want her snatching you up.”

The night wore on, and you were impressed with how easily EZ blended into the crowd with everyone from work. He made his way through a lot of small talk, a lot of, “So how do you know Y/N?” and other questions of the sort. The whole night he couldn’t help but to keep looking over at you, making sure that he had physical contact with you in one way or another. You couldn’t pretend that you minded it.

By your fourth glass of wine EZ had managed to get your keys from you, promising that he would drive the both of you back to your apartment safely and responsibly. His largest obstacle of the evening was hiding your bidding number sign from you so you didn’t spend money that you didn’t have.

“You’re the one who told me,” he said quietly in your ear, trying to suppress a laugh, “that your financial contribution was the, and I quote, buttload of money you paid for our tickets here.”

You huffed, trying and failing to give him a displeased expression, “But I wanna feel like a fancy rich person, EZ.”

He smiled at you, resting his hand on your thigh, “You’re certainly dressed like one, Y/N, so for tonight that’ll have to be enough. And besides, I’m your personal chauffer, so it doesn’t get more fancy rich person than that.”

You smirked over at him, placing your hand on top of his and interlocking your fingers, “I’m really glad that you’re here.”

He squeezed your fingers lightly, “Yea, me too.”

The evening was beginning to wind down, and EZ could see it on your face that if he didn’t get you out soon, you were going to start causing trouble. It was fine when the two of you were out among people you didn’t know, but he didn’t think that he’d be a very good friend if he let you start drunkenly stirring the pot with your coworkers. He convinced you to start saying your goodbyes, his hand placed on the small of your back as the two of you maneuvered through the small crowds of people in the event space.

You were walking through the parking garage, your hand entwined with his as you swung your arms back and forth, “What a night!”

EZ chuckled, spinning you carefully so you didn’t fall over, but still got to enjoy the flow of your dress when you spun and moved, “I’m honored I got the invite.”

“You sure you’re good to drive?”

He laughed, nodding, “I’m sure. Not like you could take over for me anyway.”

He helped you into the passenger seat before going around and getting in, sliding the seat back so he could actually fit. He chuckled as he saw you out of the corner of his eye, peeling your shoes off before you even left the parking garage. The whole drive home you went on and on about how much your coworkers loved him, you could just tell. He smiled and nodded, letting one hand stray and come to rest on your thigh.

He parked outside your apartment building and you looked over at him with your biggest puppy-dog eyes, “Ezekiel, I don’t wanna put my shoes back on. Will you carry me upstairs?”

He laughed and nodded, “Yes, but only because tonight you’re a fancy rich lady.”

“You’re so good to me. I love you,” you smiled over at him.

He felt his heart beating harder inside his chest, “I love you too.”

He carried you bridal style up the stairs with such ease. You loved every moment of it. He held onto you as you unlocked the door, still wrapped up in his arms. You giggled into his neck as he kicked the door shut behind you and turned the deadbolt. He carried you to your bed, setting you down gently. You smiled up at him from your mattress, reaching out and taking his hand in your own.

“I’ve missed you so much, EZ.”

He traced his thumb over your knuckles, “Yea, I’ve missed you too.”

Before he could walk out to collapse on the couch you asked him, “Can you help me with my dress?”

He swallowed hard, nodding, “Yea, of course, whatever you need.”

You pulled your hair off to the side again so he could pull the zipper down. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that there was a slight trembling to his hands as he fumbled with the zipper, pulling it down slowly. He took a deep breath as he gently pushed the straps down off your shoulders. You hummed in approval as you leaned back against him, melting into him as he wrapped his arms around your waist. There were a few beats of silence before you felt him lightly press his lips against the bare skin of your shoulder, gently kissing the soft skin there.

Your breath caught in your throat and it took you a second to get the words out, “You could, um,” you were thankful that you weren’t facing him so he couldn’t see the nervousness on your face, “you could stay in my bed tonight…if you wanted. It’s probably…you know…more comfortable than the couch.”

His lips were still pressed against your shoulder and you could feel his laughter vibrate against your skin, “Yea? You sure?”

You turned around so you were facing him. He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. He was holding you close enough that you were certain that he could feel your heart palpitating, “Yea. I’m not ready to give up your company yet.”

He kissed your forehead, “Let’s get to bed then.”

#mayans mc #mayans fx #mayansmc #mayans mc imagine #ezekiel reyes #ezekiel reyes imagine #ez reyes #ez reyes x you #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes imagine #ez reyes fanfic #ezekiel reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #drabblesmc #request #ez request

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neutron-stars-collision · 4 years ago

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 4 - Bound by Fate

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3

Summary: You travel to US to meet The Protagonist. There you learn that you have much bigger part to play than expected...

Warnings: None.

Author’s Notes: 4k, ladies and gentlemen! Sorry! Thank you for all the kind words and as usual welcome all the feedback. Enjoy!

When Neil said that he intended to jump on the plane to the US soon he meant it. Friday afternoon you found yourself aboard an 8-hour-long flight to Boston with seats in business class. While going to see the Tenet’s founder in person was bound to be a good excuse for missing the training, you did worry about being behind. As soon as the plane has reached cruising altitude, you took out the notes with serious intent to focus on them. You also wanted to avoid sharing an awkward silence with Neil. But it was not meant to be.

“Are you going to study now?” he asked, peering incredulously over your shoulder.

“And why shouldn’t I? Got eight hours to spare” you sent him a glare and looked back at the pages.

“Well we could always talk…” he spoke up after a brief silence and you eyed him suspiciously.

That was tempting, you had to admit. You have barely spoken to each other since the day he came back, except for the conversations about the details of the trip. Yet after everything that happened you were grateful for that. But now, with stress about the upcoming meeting rising exponentially and tiredness gnawing at your brain, maybe it was time to change it. Before you could answer, you were interrupted by the smiley stewardess passing through:

“Drinks? Snacks?”

You immediately turned to Neil, glaring at him with a clear message: don’t you dare. But he only smirked at you and answered the flight attendant:

“Vodka tonic and whiskey coke. Thanks” your murderous frown had no effect on him.

You resorted to staring at the little flight map on your screen until the drinks have been served. Once the stewardess has moved along you went back to shooting daggers at Neil:

“What? Are you not a whiskey coke kind of person?” he asked with that innocent smile.

“I am” you admitted, and he grinned in response “But are we even allowed to drink on the job?”

“Technically we’re not on the job. Yet” he took a sip of the drink nonchalantly and you took the liberty to observe him.

Once again he has ditched the suit jacket and wore a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. You had to admit that it did look good on him. His hair was in perfect state of dishevelment and you briefly considered brushing it away from his eyes. But his intense stare stopped any intent you could have had.

“I never asked how you’re settling in” he spoke after a beat, looking at you with genuine interest.

“Well it’s not your fault I decided to get a whiplash that day” you joked and enjoyed the laugh it prompted “I’m managing. Like I said at the party, it’s difficult to understand and inversion is tricky but it’s so fascinating” the sparks in his eyes urged you to continue “When I finished uni I never thought I could have a chance to work for an organisation like Tenet. The best I wished for was the UK Government” you grimaced at the idea “Still no clue what the nuclear fission is though” you added and reached for the drink.

“The offer to help with physics still stands you know” Neil was looking at you with a gleam in his eye.

“And I’ll surely consider it” you winked, feeling glad you’ve ditched those notes.

“What’s your favourite part of the training?” he has turned in his seat so that he was facing you.

“Probably guns”

“Good choice” he sent you an impressed smirk.

“Well maybe not the inverted rounds, but all the different types of arms and artillery are fun to play with” you elaborated with a gleeful enthusiasm.

Neil smiled at the sight.

“My sources tell me your good at shooting too” he added after a short break, eyeing you with interest.

“I’m not a rookie” you shrugged “And apparently have a good eye as well” you held his gaze, feeling a boost of courage “Maybe one day I’ll show you”

Neil stared back at you with a slight shock on his face. He recovered quick enough to retort:

“Can’t wait” he smirked, and you looked down suddenly aware of what you said.

Can always blame it on the alcohol, you thought while staring at your lap. But before you could overthink it, Neil reached out and tipped your chin so that you met his gaze. He was smiling at you, but this time it was not a cocky grin. He searched your eyes for a short moment, making sure you were fine before dropping away his hand. You stared back puzzled, but before you could think about it too long, he asked:

“So it’s fair to assume that you don’t hate me for introducing you to this madness?”

“Could never” you laughed, and he grinned back “Even though I must admit I became quite a loner because of it. It’s hard to have friends when you train at a secret spy agency”

“There’s always me” he shrugged.

“I can’t say I know you” you replied truthfully and took a moment to stare at his face.

He nodded, accepting your statement and then smirked. You watched, wide-eyed, as he undid the top button on his shirt and leaned into the seat. If he noticed your silent panic, he did not show it.

“What do you want to know?” there was something almost challenging in his gaze.

You took a moment to recover before thinking hard about what to ask. You knew that this was potentially a one-off chance to learn something about him.

“How long have you been doing this?” you gestured vaguely.

Neil frowned, thinking hard and you focused on the face he made.

“Four years, I think” he ruffled his hair again “Thinking in linear terms is difficult after all those inversions” he added with a little smile “I’ve been recruited by the TP while still at my old job”

“What were you doing before?”

“I’ve been in the Navy” you stared at him surprised “Turns out they are willing to take in lost Physics students”.

He noticed your dazed look and grinned:

“What? You thought I was an ex-MI6 agent or something?” he cocked his eyebrow.

“Well you could definitely be a James Bond” you muttered and ignored the smug smile you got in return.

“I met TP one day while on the field mission in Asia and we cooperated very well so at the end he asked me to join Tenet. Naturally I said yes” he explained, and you nodded “You don’t turn away an offer like that. You know that best” you exchanged a smile “Has that satisfied your curiosity?” he finished the drink and turned to look at you expectantly.

“A bit” you admitted.

Before you could say anything more you yawned widely and then looked at Neil sheepishly.

“Shit, sorry. Swear am not that tired”

He laughed, looking at you softly:

“Maybe my life story was that boring”

“Certainly not” another yawn and you covered your face with your hands.

“You can sleep, we still have six hours to go” he reassured you.

You felt very tired. All those hours of training and the stress made you feel worn out. So you decided to give in, letting your head lean on the headrest and reclined the back of the seat.

“Wake me up for food” you joked and closed your eyes, feeling Neil chuckle next to you.

Slowly you felt yourself drift off to sleep, hoping your dreams won’t make you regret the decision when you wake up.

*** First thing you noticed after waking up was that you no longer had the leather head rest acting as your pillow. Instead it was something warmer and firmer. You could smell intense cologne and that revelation made your eyes widen. Somehow in the sleep you have moved so that your head was resting on Neil’s shoulder. And judging by his small smirk he was fully aware of that and did nothing. Quickly you straightened and looked at him shyly. He grinned and said:

“Don’t worry, they haven’t served the food yet”

“Great” you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

You opened the notes again and forced your brain to focus on the nuclear fission. You felt Neil’s gaze on you and fought hard to ignore it.

God, this is going to be a long journey…

*** You managed to avoid further humiliation by focusing on studying during the rest of the flight. Neil has even contributed with a couple of explanations. Hearing him talk about the atoms and electrons with passion made you want to ask him about the topic again.

Once you landed in Boston, he practically dragged you through the customs and the arrivals hall. You stopped outside by the taxi stop and you finally caught your breath:

“We’re getting a taxi?” you looked sceptically at the forming queue.

Neil finished typing a message and glanced at you:

“Do you think we’re on a budget cut?” you laughed at his affronted expression.

“Judging by your suit…” you eyed him quickly “Most certainly not”

“You like my suits?” the hint of the sly grin started to form on his lips.

You were saved from answering by a black Tesla stopping in front of you. Neil opened the door and gestured for you to get in.

“Got to admit that this organisation has a good taste in cars” you noticed.

“Maybe one day you’ll get one those” Neil winked, and you grinned back.

You watched through the window as the the city sights passed by, curious about Boston. You were headed to the outskirts of the city, judging by the signs on the highway. After a short silence, you asked Neil:

“So… the Protagonist. What is he like?”

“He’s...” he took a moment to think and you observed him with interest “Fun” his face lit up “Charismatic. And very mysterious but not in an intimidating kind of way”

“You’re close with him?”

You liked the happy smile that showed on his face.

“You could say so. When he hired me, Tenet was only starting out and it was mostly us two on the missions” he recollected with fond look “These days he rarely goes into the field but if he does, it’s usually with me”

“A dream team” you grinned, and he chuckled.

Suddenly the car stopped, and you looked through the window at the building exactly in front.

“Welcome to the Tenet Headquarters” Neil grinned at you widely as he opened the door.

You got out of the car and stared at the tall glass building with a large parking area and a tall fence. Following Neil, you showed your ID to the security camera and walked through the sliding door. Interior was very like what you were used to in London, but more modern. As soon as you entered, a tall man in a suit approached you:

“Welcome back Neil!” they exchanged a handshake “And it’s nice to meet you” he turned to you and you accepted his hand “I’m Richard”.

“Y/N” you smiled.

“TP wants to see you now” Richard spoke to Neil “And he’ll talk to you both later during dinner” he explained.

“That’s good news as you can continue that nap” Neil glanced at you and you glared.

“Very funny” you muttered and chose to ignore the curious look Richard gave you both.

“I’ll show you your room now” the agent broke the awkward silence.

“Okay” you moved to follow him with your duffel bag thrown over the shoulder.

As you passed Neil, he swiftly squeezed your hand and then disappeared into on the side corridors. You briefly wondered why that became a goodbye gesture between you.

Not that you did mind.

*** You never got to have that nap. While the room Richard lead you to was very like what you were used to in London, your brain was too hyperactive to let you rest. Every time you shut your eyes, you kept thinking about the upcoming meeting and all the what ifs. Finally you gave up with thirty minutes left till the dinner and got ready. When Neil knocked on your door, you leaped out of the room, fuelled by anxiety.

“Everything alright?” he asked once he saw your wild gaze.

“Yeah, I’m just scared, that’s all” you admitted and looked at him pleadingly “Can we please get going before I change my mind?”

He eyed you carefully, making sure you were indeed ‘okay’ before pointing the direction of TP’s quarters.

“There’s no reason to be scared” Neil said after few minutes of tense silence “He’s probably the nicest person here” he looked at you with a reassuring smile.

“Nicer than you?” you looked at him sceptically.

Being this anxious meant that you no longer cared much about what you said. In this case your voiced thought was awarded with a sly grin from Neil.

“Oh you think I’m nice?” he winked, and you laughed despite the tension.

“I’m not so sure anymore…” you sent him a fake glare.

“You can think about it again after the meeting” he replied and gestured towards the door to your left “Here we are”.

You stared at the door, fighting the fleeing instinct. As though Neil knew you can run away any second, he took your hand in his and knocked on the door. Approximately five seconds later the door opened to reveal a smiling man in a suit. He exchanged a happy grin with Neil and then looked at you with interest. When his eyes darted to your linked hands, you felt your face heat up and was surprised to see him smirk knowingly. Before you could overthink it, TP broke the silence:

“Come on in” he smiled at you.

You had the strange feeling that he was looking at someone he knew very well. You ignored the spike of anxiety, let go of Neil’s hand and followed the Protagonist. His quarters had a separate private bedroom, a briefing room and a living area with a large table, set for dinner. When you all sat down, Tenet’s founder addressed you:

“First of all, I want to say I’m excited to finally meet you” he smiled at you warmly and you beamed back.

“Didn’t know I’m that important” you admitted and was surprised to him amused “But I’m glad I can be here”

“You probably have a lot of questions” you just nodded “But I thought it’s best we eat first. Is that okay?”

“Sure”

Once the food has been served by the cooks from the mess hall, the conversation has changed onto more mundane topics.

“So, what were you doing before Tenet?” the Protagonist asked you.

“I actually finished university not that long ago” you answered “I graduated two years ago and since then only did some part time jobs”

Neil was looking at you across the table with a surprised expression. You tried to search his face for answers, but he schooled his features before you came to any conclusions. After conversations about your past and how you were getting on with the training, you have all cleared the plates. Neil and the Protagonist exchanged a mysterious look before the second one spoke:

“As you know by now from your training, I have knowledge about things that haven’t happened yet…” he started, almost tentatively.

“You mean that you came from the future? To set up Tenet?” you blurted out and got met with slightly worried looks “Because that’s what everyone says among the recruits” you explained, shrugging.

When you first heard this rumour passed around by the younger agents you did not pay it much attention. But after seeing more of what Tenet was capable of you were not so sure anymore. Looking at Neil and TP right now, you knew that all the stories were true.

“That’s probably a more straightforward way of putting it” the Protagonist joked “I’ve founded Tenet to prevent world ending catastrophes involving the technology of inversion. That’s the part you already know. There’s another reason why the organisation has been founded though”

You stared as he purposefully made a dramatic pause. Glancing at Neil, you noticed that he was studying you with a rather serious expression. You got the feeling that what was about to be said, was not common knowledge.

“In the future there will be an attempt an attempt to reverse the entropy of the whole world” your eyes widened in shock.

Even with your poor grasp of physics it sounded like a catastrophe.

“For this purpose something called The Algorithm will be created and constructed. It’s a formula in a physical form, broken into nine parts so that it is not so easily found and assembled. But now the different parts of it are beginning to resurface in this timeline. Our job is to stop it from being used in the recent future” the Protagonist explained, as though he was repeating a manual for the hob.

You felt the panic rise again. All this information was too much to take in.

“What does it have to do with me?” you asked, unable to wait much longer.

The serious look in Neil’s eyes did not help you either.

“TP thinks you have a part to play in stopping the Algorithm from being used” he explained while looking at you almost apologetically “So he’s sending us on a mission to investigate some intel on one of the parts being a subject of trade in New York”

“But why me?” you frowned.

It didn’t make any sense.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that” the Protagonist apologised with a sad smile “It wouldn’t do you any good to know this early”

You looked at Neil, hoping to find some answers. But he seemed as lost as you were. You had a feeling that only TP knew the full story and he decided who was to be let in on it.

“You will leave on the mission in two days. Until then you can prepare here, and I’ll brief you both tomorrow” he added, and you could only nod “Finally, the last thing you need to know is that everything that was said today is between us three. Is that alright?”

“Of course” you got up, desperately wanting to get some rest “Neil is the only person I talk to anyway” you shrugged and received a knowing glance from TP again.

What even…

“Sorry, I’m very tired. Is it alright if we come back to it tomorrow?” you asked, suppressing a yawn.

“Yeah sure, you need a rest” TP patted your arm reassuringly “No need to be worried though, you’ll have Neil with you. And I know he’ll take care of you” there was something way too certain in his voice.

You looked at Neil, but he pretended to study a dossier, with tension radiating from his form. You wanted answers but could not even voice the questions.

*** After the meeting finished, you both left TP’s quarters in silence. You were scared and dreamt of nothing but locking yourself away in your room. But Neil had other ideas. As soon as he stepped out into the corridor, he took your hand in his and started leading you with purpose in his stride. You didn’t even protest. At this point you resorted to following him without questions.

He lead you to the staircase and then upstairs, to what was indicated as an evacuation route. You tried to search his face for any clues, but it was pointless. Finally he stopped in front of heavy metal doors at the top of the stairwell and opened it for you. You stepped into an expansive terrace overlooking the city and the neighbouring areas, with the stairs to the helicopter pad. The night has fallen on Boston and the view was illuminated with thousands of lights. You took in the sight with parted lips, not expecting to see anything like that on this dramatic night. Neil was leaning on the railing, looking at you with a small smile:

“Do you show this place to all the girls?” you asked him, while slowly approaching the balustrade.

“What girls?” he looked genuinely confused and you laughed at the face he made.

“Oh you know, like Anna…” you gestured vaguely at the lines of women that were waiting on his every word.

“What? No!” he finally caught on what you were asking and scrunched his face in offence “Anna is cute but she’s not… no”

What was he trying to say? But he turned towards the view and clenched his jaw. You stared at him for a while before resigning to look at the cityscape as well. Every now and then you would steal a glance at Neil, only to see him staring into the darkness. This was not what you were used to from him. When the tense silence dragged on for too long, you decided to act.

“Neil is everything alright?” you stepped closer to him “You’re awfully quiet” you noticed.

He turned his head to look at you with a small smirk that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You miss my voice already?”

“Stop it” impulsively you reached out and touched his hand that was clutching the railing.

He looked up at you with a slight surprise. Now that you made the move, you felt less scared. You gently rubbed a thumb over his hand and tried again:

“What’s wrong? Because if it’s my poor jokes about Anna and stuff, then sorry-”

“No” he cut you off with a smile “It’s not you. It’s just that all this talk about The Algorithm and world ending… it’s a lot sometimes” you nodded “And today when TP told me that you’ve got a role to play in it too…” he inhaled sharply “I…”

You looked at him intrigued and worried at the same time. You were not used to Neil speaking in broken sentences.

“What?” you prodded, letting your hand trace an invisible line up his forearm.

He looked at you with an unreadable expression before relaxing his hold on the balustrade. You were surprised to see that there were goosebumps on his arm where you have touched it.

“I hoped that you won’t have to be involved in this” he sighed “Maybe it’s foolish for someone who’s worked at Tenet for four years, but I wanted you to be safe from all this Algorithm related bullshit” he met your gaze with defeat.

You stared back at him, confused.

“Why?” your voice came out quiet and hoarse.

He shrugged helplessly, with an expression of sadness in his eyes. That alone made you forego any sense of awkwardness or fear. You closed the gap between you, embracing him tightly. After a second of hesitation you felt him return the embrace. He exhaled shakily and you allowed yourself to rest your head in the crook of his neck. Your heart was hammering in your chest, finally catching up with what was happening. Inhaling his scent, you forced yourself to calm down. You felt his hand caress the nape of you neck, making all the thoughts disappear from your head. You were frozen in place for what felt like hours before Neil relaxed his grip and took a step back. You met his gaze with an unspoken question and he just nodded, composing himself. Then he studied your face for a beat, before finally breaking the silence:

“I’m sorry”

You knew he meant everything by that: the news, the plan, his outburst.

“It’s okay” you smiled at him reassuringly and placed you hand on his shoulder “Happens to the best of us” you smoothed his wrinkled shirt collar.

He stared at you with astonishment that made your face heat up. Then he smiled and nodded his head in the direction of the exit from the terrace:

“Want to call it a night?” he asked with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Sure” you smiled back and followed him back to the stairwell.

Somehow this night felt important. And not just because of what you learned.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion #gifs not mine

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winryofresembool · 3 years ago

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Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 38

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: A new semester is starting

A/N: We are finally done with the holiday chapters! When it comes to this chapter, I'd like to state that I only have some experience from a couple of Finnish universities so I really don't know a whole lot about how certain things work in practice in the States, so please ignore the possible inaccuracies for the sake of this fic. It feels weird after a couple of 'bigger' chapters to have a bit more 'fillery' one... but... but... there's Caleo in the beginning?? So I hope you'll enjoy nevertheless. I wish I could spread even more love towards this ship because they deserve it but sadly there are only so few hours in a day. The fandom seems so quiet these days...

Anyway, enough rambling! Now let's get to this chapter, and the usual reminder: I love to hear what you think! All comments are much appreciated :)

Words: 2500+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

...

”Is something the matter? You look quite unhappy.”

Leo felt arms sneak around his shoulders from behind while he was sitting on the common area sofa, staring at his laptop with a frown. Some of the speaker’s reddish brown hair fell in front of his face, the smell of cinnamon drifting into his nose, and for some reason that alone was enough to relieve some of Leo’s uneasiness. The small, pale hands found their way down his biceps and stopped there, but he wasn’t going to complain. If he was honest, he was really happy about Calypso’s growing confidence when it came to the physical affection, because it told him she really trusted him. Sometimes he was still amazed that he out of all the people had managed to break the ice around her.

Before Leo let himself get too lovestruck, though, he reminded himself why he was staring at his laptop in the first place. The new semester was starting and that naturally meant new courses, new assignments, new texts to read and… new emails from his professors. One specific email had managed to twist his stomach quite badly. In it, the professor from his chemistry lab class had asked him for a meeting, and Leo assumed he wanted to discuss what had happened on the exam day. Wishing that he could just ignore that said message, he turned his attention back to his girlfriend.

“Just uni issues… nothing more severe this time,” Leo replied half jokingly. The holidays had given him some perspective on what really was important to him and failing a class didn’t feel quite as big an issue anymore. It was inconvenient, yes, on a few levels, but not entirely unfixable.

“Oh?” Calypso finally let her hands slide off of him and sat down next to him. She seemed a bit relieved that this was about the university and not something that was out of her reach, and if Leo was honest, he couldn’t blame her. “What kind of issues?”

“A professor wants to meet me face to face tomorrow. Probably to talk about my recent chemistry lab test or something like that.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Hmm… Isn’t it quite unusual for them to give special focus to a single student at this stage?” Calypso asked.

“Apparently they still do that in my department. Who knows, maybe they think I’ve caused them enough trouble by now and want me to quit.”

“But what happened in your lab test was not your fault. Do you think you are any closer to being able to finish it in case you get another chance?”

When Calypso was looking at him with those almost chocolate brown eyes, he felt that it wasn’t impossible.

“Some smart person once said that I need to believe in myself more, so that’s what I need to learn to do. After that… it might be possible.”

“I’m glad you’re listening to me at least sometimes.” Calypso gave him a lopsided smile. “The fact that you know what you should do means that you’re already on your way there.”

“Yeah. I guess so.” Wanting to talk about something else, Leo asked: “Well, what about you? How are you feeling about the upcoming semester?”

“I’m feeling… pretty good about it, you know? Sure, I’ve been reading our course plans and it sounds like our professors are planning to make us work like every day is an exam day and we have some group assignments and important presentations coming up, but… I really like learning? And I like listening to the conversations between our professors and my fellow students during our lectures because it’s something I never got to do when I was stuck at home… I feel like I get new points of views from them all the time. And Annabeth is a really big help; she knows everything about everything so if I ever feel like I can’t follow the lectures, she can always clarify them to me.”

“I have a hard time imagining you not being able to keep up with the professors… but yeah, it’s good you can ask for her help if needed.”

Calypso nodded.

“You know, I’m glad you two got your issues sorted out in the fall,” Leo added as an afterthought.

Calypso looked up at him with a slight frown as if she had completely forgotten about what exactly had happened in the fall. “Oh, right, that. I feel like it was just one big misunderstanding. Both of us realized that we can’t get stuck on something that happened so long ago.”

Leo couldn’t deny that he had also felt a bit jealous of Percy when he had first found out about his and Calypso’s past, but she had clearly moved on, so he wasn’t holding a grudge anymore either. Calypso had decided to date him, and that’s what mattered.

“Yeah, I know from my personal experiences that ain’t worth it,” he replied.

Calypso leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed.

“I have a… maybe a bit weird question. Do you believe in some kind of greater power? You know, like gods?”

Leo wondered why she would ask that. “I dunno. Maybe. I’m not really strongly for or against that. I think I’m the kind of person who needs to see it to believe it, but I don’t think it’s impossible. But why do you ask?”

“This will sound extremely cheesy but sometimes I wonder… if there was a reason why we two met. Like some greater power that pushed us together for some reason.”

“Wow. I don’t know if any greater powers had their fingers in that but I am glad that it happened.” Leo threw his arm around her shoulder and wondered briefly why it felt like such a natural thing to do. At one point he had been too intimidated to initiate any kind of physical contact but now that they were more open with each other and she had seen him in some of his worse moments – he didn’t mind anymore.

“Yeah. Me too.” Calypso whispered.

Only the buzzing of the fridge and some other kitchen machinery could be heard on the background while the flatmates were simply enjoying each other’s company, resting their heads against each other, but eventually Calypso suggested:

“Hey... I think I need something that will allow me to disconnect a bit, so… how about some Friends?”

Leo didn’t have anything against that suggestion. In fact, he always enjoyed the TV show or movie nights with Calypso, for various reasons. “Sure. That sounds great to me. You know I’m always ready to roast my homeboy Chandler.”

“I know you are.” Calypso nudged him and took the remote control to find the right episode. As they started watching and commenting on it (he always enjoyed how snarky Calypso’s comments could be), Leo almost forgot about the upcoming meeting with the professor.

…

The next day, Leo found himself in the building where the office of his lab professor was located. At the breakfast table he had practiced the meeting with Calypso, and Jason had also joined him a bit later to wish him luck. To Leo’s relief, he did seem a lot happier than when he had seen him before the holiday break, but he still didn’t talk a whole lot about his current situation. Leo himself decided that it was better if he didn’t guide his friends too much so instead he did a quick recap on the recent developments in his own life – without mentioning his new relationship status. Luckily Jason didn’t ask, as he seemed to be more worried about Leo’s upcoming meeting.

As he was waiting for the professor to arrive, Leo kept glancing at his clock nervously. The man was already a few minutes late. While Leo knew that wasn’t anything unusual in the university world, as the professors tended to be busy, he still kept wishing he could get the meeting over with as soon as possible. His leg started bouncing again on its own and his fingers were tapping against the wooden handle of the chair. Suddenly he didn’t feel quite as sure about what he was going to tell the professor as he had felt earlier.

Finally, he was pulled from his thoughts by a loud ‘ahem’.

“Mr. Valdez? Sorry I’m late, my meeting with a couple of coworkers got a bit long,” the professor said.

“That’s… that’s fine,” Leo stuttered. Some months ago he would probably have said something snarky as a response but right now he knew better than to take any risks.

“Go in, go in, so we can have a talk,” the professor encouraged. Unwillingly, Leo followed him into his office and had to be told to sit down before he even realized that there was a comfortable looking arm chair right next to him.

“So…” the professor started once he was seated behind his desk. “You probably know why I invited you here.”

“I… I do have an idea…” Leo said hesitantly, looking everywhere in the room except the professor. The man had a lot of engineering related books in his bookshelf, a big stack of papers - probably students’ assignments - and a fancy looking calculator on his desk. Behind him on the wall there was a single photograph of his family. Pretty much exactly how Leo had imagined the said professor’s room looking.

“I will be direct with you. Your achievements in the lab classes - or lack thereof - is a cause of confusion for us. In almost all of the theory related classes, you are on the top of the class – despite the occasional reports that your behavior towards the lecturers could use some improvement.” The man raised his eyebrow, but Leo thought he could see a glint of amusement in his eyes. That didn’t last long, though. “However, until now we have been willing to overlook that because of your talents. Maths, physics, chemistry… those things you clearly don’t have any issues with. But already for the second year you have been avoiding the lab classes for which you have been signed up and last fall you even left the chemistry lab test before you managed to get it completed. I’m sure you are aware that if you want to move onto the more advanced classes, you need to complete the mandatory ones before you are allowed to do that.”

“Yes, sir, I’m aware of that,” Leo replied stiffly, wondering briefly when was the last time he had called anyone sir, other than ironically.

“In that case…” His voice turned less formal, more fatherly as he continued, which surprised Leo. The professors he was used to dealing with were usually not all too nice to him, although he was willing to admit that some of it was probably deserved. “Can I ask you, is there a specific reason why you haven’t attended the lab classes?”

Leo wondered if he should come up with a quick lie. It wouldn’t be the first time in his life that he would have to do that in order to protect himself. However, the professor really seemed sincere and concerned about him and in a way his expression reminded him of Jo’s when she was expecting him to open up. Perhaps that’s why he ended up deciding to answer honestly:

“Yes. There is.”

“And? What is the reason?” The professor raised his eyebrow.

Leo inhaled deeply before forming his response. “I’m afraid of fire. Yeah, laugh ahead, but it’s true. I can’t deal with anything that requires heating because of some nasty as hell childhood trauma.”

To his surprise, the professor didn’t get angry at him for talking to him in such a manner. Instead, he furrowed his eyebrows.

“And you’re still planning to make mechanical engineering your career? Despite your fear?”

Leo nodded slowly. “Yeah. Building and fixing inanimate objects is the only thing I’ve ever known how to do. I was basically born with a hammer and a wrench in my hands and I was capable of building toys for myself when I was like four. After an accident…” He refrained from mentioning his mother because he couldn’t guarantee he would be able to stay calm if he brought that up. “… I haven’t been able to light up a match or anything like that. But almost five years ago, two awesome women adopted me and one of them is a mechanic. She reminded me what I really love about tinkering and it was then that I decided that I wanna keep trying. It’s a process but I am working on it.”

The professor smiled a little. “You know… a lot of our students were unable to take the chemistry lab course in the fall, so we decided to organize another course now in the spring. As it happens, there’s still some room for new people in it. So, if you’re interested, you’re welcome. But remember, you would need to attend all the mandatory classes and complete the tasks that you are assigned, no exceptions. That means we will not be going easy on you just because of your fear.”

Leo’s eyes widened with surprise. He hadn’t expected to get a chance like that.

“Woah, thanks sir! I won’t let you down!”

“That’s good to hear,” the professor nodded approvingly. “Can I ask you a question, though? Why do you want to become a mechanical engineer? I mean, what exactly is it that fascinates you about it, other than the influences you have gotten at your home?”

Leo imagined that the professor could probably see the bolts and nuts moving in his brain as he formed his answer. “I… I wanna learn to develop products that will help us make the world a safer, more sustainable place for us. We engineers, if anyone, can develop technology that will help us achieve that goal. But that’s not all. I also wanna learn more so I can help to share the information forward. I wanna show kids who come from similar backgrounds as I that they should keep on dreaming. There was a time when my mom ate porridge - only porridge - for her meals so she could pay the rent when her business was slow, but she still kept doing it. Because that’s how much she cared about her job. And I want to continue in her footsteps.”

The professor shifted on his seat. “That is an admirable goal, Mr. Valdez. I hope you will succeed. Remember, you do have the skill – you just need to know how to use it.”

“Yeah… Thanks professor.”

“No problem. Don’t forget the class enrollments end tonight so you need to be fast if you want to participate. That’s all for now. Good luck in your future endeavors.”

“Thanks. I’ll go enroll myself then. Bye for now.”

“See you, Mr. Valdez.”

Leo breathed a long sigh of relief the moment he stepped out of the professor’s office. The meeting had gone way better than he had dared to expect. He hadn’t thought he would get another chance so fast, but was grateful for the opportunity. Now, he would only need to kick his fears into the deepest pits of Tartarus, as Calypso would say.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

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ilegnangeli · 3 years ago

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Random June Thought #1

I think I may have to be the most sentimental person I know. Or maybe not sentimental but mental. Just kidding. So I’ve shared that whenever I go back home, I get pretty sentimental. And it’s really true.

Maybe because I get to see my parents. My aging parents. And I get reminded of how fast and finite life is.

I have so many things planned for them but I feel like I’m running out of time. Whenever people ask me what I want to have in the future, I don’t answer them with having a family of my own but instead I want to see my family members safe and healthy. I want to spend a longer time with them. Never mind getting married or having a family of my own. Just seeing my family members’ good health and seeing them living a good life will be more than enough for me.

The thing is I almost always get to do heart to heart talks with my family when I meet with them. I get to speak with my father and his plans for the future. I get to chat with my mother about where she wants to go and what she wants to do. I get pretty sentimental because I love these people. I love my parents so much. And I want to honor them as much as I can, spoil them as much as I can. But I’m so short on time. I only get to visit them once a month and it pains me that I need to say goodbye ever so often.

I’m not a kid anymore but I still am a kid in my parents’ eyes. I love that my parents are so loving and unconditional when it comes to providing love, care, and attention to us—their children and of course, grandchildren. I love that I grew up with the parents I have now. I’m grateful that I get to experience life with them as my parents. I love that I have a generous father and a loving mother. Their combination is perfect. So thank You, God. Thank you for giving me these parents. I am eternally grateful.

Today’s Father’s Day. It's funny because since the ‘rents, me, and my younger sister are vaccinated, we get to celebrate together. With my aunt and cousins, too. And little Batuti who had to come along because there will be no one to look after him in our condo. Lmao

Anyway, today was a really good day. An emotional one, too. On the way home, as my cousin drove us back to the Metro, my aunt and I had this conversation about the future. She asked me about my plans. She asked me about my plans for the house where my parents are living. She asked me about the future—my future. I told her I don’t think about getting married. Because I feel like in the short span of time remaining with my parents, I just want to spoil them. I want to give them the life they deserve. I just want to provide for them. Because no one else will do that for them. All my older siblings are married, busy with their lives, and busy their own families.

Plus, I’m afraid of becoming a parent myself. I don’t know if I could be as loving or as caring as Mama Duay. I don’t know of I could ever be as hardworking and generous as Papa Henry. I don’t know if I can call myself a mother, a parent in the future. I’m not sure if I want my future children to grow up in this specific environment. I don’t know how I will be able to raise strong, independent, and caring children. I’m so afraid for them to experience pain and suffering here. I’m not sure if I could take it—just watching them grow up while struggling. I don’t know. I don’t want them to feel the same things I’ve felt—I'm feeling—here. I’m not sure they deserve this kind of life. It’s so hard to live here. My God, just thinking about this makes me tear up.

Life is hard. And I don’t want to be selfish. I don’t want to raise children because I expect them to give something in return for the life I’ve provided for them. I don’t want that.

But then I think about my parents. What they want for me. I feel like sometimes, when I talk about my crush during meals, my dad gets pretty silent and a little jealous because I seriously sound like I want to settle down. Lmao I feel like my mom always says that my crush is gay because she feels that—at the same time—she doesn’t want to give me away. (Dear crush, if you only knew how much I have thought about our future together lol. Thank God, you’ll never know though.)

What’s funny is that sometimes I feel like my parents WANT me to settle down with someone. So that they could be at peace. Damn, this is going to make me cry so hard. I don’t want to cry, I’ve been crying over the weekend. My heart can’t take it anymore lmao. If the world gave me money for every tear I dropped or every ounce of tear that came down my face, I’d be swimming in a pool of money. Dammit. But life, life is much harder. And I can only write about life because that’s how I roll. So in case you’re reading this in the future, SELF. I hope you’re in a much better place. I’m praying for the future of us. This is me from the past saying hello.

On our drive home, I spoke with my aunt about how I was planning to travel with my parents before the pandemic. I wanted to bring my parents abroad. I wanted to bring them to the places I’ve been and experience those places with them. I still want that. I will do that. Please COVID-19, go away.

I also told my aunt that I wanted to bring my dad back to Ilocos. He loves that place. My parents are both from Visayas. Papa is Waray, Mama is Bisaya. How they ended up together? That’s a story for another time. But my dad was stationed in Ilocos for some time, way before I came into their life, and they lived there for some time with two of my ugly ass brothers. Sorry I always call my siblings ugly asses—it’s my endearment. While my elder sister and eldest brother were in Samar. Parents married early, both were 18 at the time of marriage. But despite that they were able to raise their children. I feel like writing about their life—maybe one day I could write about our lives. Soon? Lol anywho, Papa loves Ilocos and I want to bring him back there. With the fam. If God will give me enough time with my parents, I hope to be able to bring them abroad, too. At least once.

I wish I could win the lottery. So that I could do all these things faster. Buy that house I’ve always wanted to have in Presello lmao. Give the life I want to give to my parents and my younger sister. Spoil my nephews and niece to oblivion. And prolly purchase a guy who would love to settle with me. I’m just kidding. I always joke about becoming rich and just buying men. But that also scares the shit outta me. Imagine, what if he’s a serial killer? And he only marries me because he wants my money? Hmm, those are some thoughts to ponder. So much for watching true crime shit on YouTube.

So I’m going back to my original plans. Get those education units. Get that teaching license. If God permits me, get that graduate degree. Leave the country. Never look back. LMAAAAOOOO, girl. Hopefully these aren’t wishful thinking. Because istg, I want a better life for my family. If it means I’ll never get married, then so be it. HAHAHAHA.

Anyway, happy father’s day to all you dads out there. I hope you had a great celebration with your families. I had a great one today. And I loved every moment of it. I wish I could celebrate more with my family. I miss us eating out together. We’re big bunch, you see. And I get a little bit too sentimental when I get reminded of the past because right now, in this pandemic, we can’t do that. But thank God for technology, right? We get to video chat our loved ones and celebrate with them even when they’re far away. But then again, these social media networking sites aren’t meant to substitute for real-time, face to face conversations. They’re just here for interim purposes (this line reminds me of my journalism paper back in uni yo!).

I have so many things I want to share, so many things have happened today. Actually over the weekend and I want to write about it. But let’s just leave this post here. Let’s park this topic. Oh man, my brain wants to write more but I don’t want to end this on a sad note.

Mondays are the worst. I want to face tomorrow with a smile. I want to work harder, become better, and then leave with a light heart. My God, I pray for this anxious heart of mine to please calm tf down. Hahaha.

Cheer up, self. Things will get better.

P.S. I am addicted to TWICE's Alcohol Free. This song is my last song syndrome.

#June 20th #Father's Day 2021 #random thoughts #2021 #About God's Chaser

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romioneficfest · 4 years ago

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In Another Universe

Title: In Another Universe

Prompt: Date Night

Tumblr name:

Rating: T

Brief summary: (Modern-Day University AU) Hermione Granger, brightest young lady her age, completed her PhD in Linguistics at 25. Ron Weasley, a quantum physicist with a penchant for unkempt hair and loose ties… well, he’s getting there. However, Granger has agreed to spend a night out at a pub with him, and he’s going to try his hardest to woo her with what he knows she likes best: intelligence.

Tags: mentions of alcohol, the word “damn”

The pub was dim-lit, crowded, and stank of stale beer. Dr. Hermione Granger was horrified: in her impossibly neat, dry-cleaned pencil skirt and button-down, she stuck out like a sore thumb in a place she never thought she’d find herself on a Saturday night. The man across from her seemed right in his element: leaning back in his chair, his tie loose and shirt undone, a shock of unkempt red hair crowning him, it wouldn’t have surprised her if he’d swung his legs and placed his feet on the table.

Smirking at her, as if reveling in her discomfort, he waved a waitress over: “Gerda, dear! Would you please get me some bangers and mash and an IPA?”

Granger’s shock only grew: he was on first-name basis with the personnel? Gerda nodded and turned to Granger, who froze for a second before remembering she was supposed to order: “Yes, ah… I’ll have the fish and chips and a glass of water, please.”

Gerda nodded again, shooting Granger’s companion a wink as she marched toward the kitchen. He winked back before looking to Granger with a teasing smile: “Never took you for such a bore, but then again, you are wearing a pencil skirt to a pub…”

“Can it, Weasley,” Granger hissed. “You begged me to be here.”

“Where else would you be on a Saturday night? Library?” he teased her again, and she flushed. He toned it down: “I’m sorry— I mean, we can leave if you want to…”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Granger huffed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s good for me to… step out of my comfort zone.”

‘And that’s putting it kindly,’ thought Weasley, taking a sip from the dark brown bottle Gerda had set in front of him. He watched Granger awkwardly sip from her glass and, realizing how uncomfortable she must be, decided to shift the conversation somewhere more familiar. “So, A Winter’s Tale.”

“Excuse me?”

“A Winter’s Tale? Shakespeare? Is that where your name comes from?”

She smiled as she took the glass to her lips again, and her shoulders lost tension. “You’re familiar with it.”

“Well, I did secondary school.”

“Good try, Weasley, but the secondary school curriculum doesn’t usually include A Winter’s Tale in its Shakespeare section.”

Damn it, he thought; leave it to Granger to know the British literature curriculum. “Fine, I Googled it.”

“Well, that’s flattering,” Granger said, raising her eyebrows. “Took time to do your homework.”

“What can I say? When you get a date with the most beautiful PhD in the uni, you’d better know your stuff.”

She blushed again, and Weasley smiled to himself: he’d gotten past the first line of defense. He decided to keep going down the conversational path he knew she’d be comfortable with: “So, working on anything interesting lately?”

Her eyes sparkled, and she finally set her glass back on the table: “God, I’m so glad you asked. As a matter of fact, we’re working on cataloging a set of Celtic scrolls we found a couple months ago— it’s fascinating.” Weasley watched her light up as she talked passionately about her work: she was a wholly different person from the demure, reserved woman who had been sitting across from him just seconds ago. He almost didn’t notice his head resting on his hand as he watched her talk, staring at her, until she cleared her throat: “Am I boring you?”

“God, no, not at all,” he said hurriedly. “All the contrary, actually. Tell me more?”

“I think I’ve talked enough,” laughed Granger, and —Weasley noticed happily— she seemed a lot more open now, relaxed into her chair and smiling genuinely. “Your turn, Weasley. What are physicists up to these days?”

“Well— a lot, actually,” he said, and he felt the familiar flame that took over him whenever he broached the subject of his work. He wasn’t at the top of his field like Granger, and he knew the other physicists often complained about his work ethic, his mess, his lack of discipline. But, in his eyes, that didn’t matter: he felt such a furor when in the lab, chin-deep in what he most loved, that he didn’t know how they could expect him to busy himself with such trivial things like organizing his files. He felt that same ardor blossom in his chest now as he talked to Granger about it (though, as he looked at her turn all of his attention to him, his heart simmered with more than fervor for physics): “A few days ago, a 2016 NASA study from down in the South Pole resurfaced. It’s crazy— they recorded particle behavior that defies all of the earthly laws of physics. They think it may be evidence of a parallel universe, where time runs backward— I mean, it’s crazy, but we can’t help but be intrigued—”

“A parallel universe? Seriously?” Granger cut him off, leaning forward with her elbows on the table and staring intently at him. She seemed genuinely interested— something that greatly delighted Weasley. “How would that even work?”

“Well, there are two big possibilities,” Weasley began. He could tell Granger was accustomed to doing the lecturing, not the other way around, but she seemed to be enjoying it. “The first has to do with the Big Bang: there’s this theory that the universe is always expanding, and when it stops expanding somewhere, a Big Bang occurs and a universe is generated; however, expansion continues in other places, and whenever it stops there, a Big Bang occurs too and another universe pops into existence. I’m fonder of the second possibility myself, honestly…”

“Well, what is it?” Granger urged him, hooked by his explanation, her eyes ablaze with the wild spark she reserved for the parts of her work she liked the most.

“Well, uh—” said Weasley, having to regain his bearings after getting distracted by how excited she seemed. “It’s the 'many worlds’ theory. According to this one, every single possible outcome to every single possible situation (be it whether the Greeks win the Trojan War or whether you decide to brush your teeth tonight) actually happens, it just happens in a separate universe. That means there’s an infinite amount of universes out there.”

“You’re telling me out there is a universe where everything is the same, but I’m wearing red instead of blue?”

“Yep, and there’s also a universe out there where I’ve finally finished my PhD because I’ve stopped pondering silly things like multiverses and learned to clean up a file cabinet instead,” quipped Weasley, and —to his surprised delight— Granger laughed.

“You’re brilliant, you know that?” she told him, and the look in her eyes had changed, softened: she was now looking at him with intent curiosity, as if she was seeing him in a whole new light. “You don’t need a doctorate to know that. I bet all those stuffy physicists are just jealous.”

He couldn’t believe his ears— Hermione Granger, darling of academic convention, bashing the very scientists that embodied everything he thought she valued most. Maybe they weren’t so different after all. He felt his ears burning, a surefire sign he was blushing: “That’s high praise, coming from you.”

“You shouldn’t undermine yourself,” Granger said, swirling around the ice in her glass with a straw. “Like I said, you’re brilliant.” And she liked brilliance, she thought, noticing how flattering that half-undone shirt was on him.

A silence ensued as they both looked at each other, broken only when Gerda set down their plates. Hermione cleared her throat to diffuse the awkwardness of the broken spell, and took to her fish and chips with her fork and knife, attempting to return to casual conversation. “So, Ronald,” she said, startling him —she’d never called him by his first name before—, “tell me: in another universe, did I agree to go out with you sooner?”

“Oh, in more than one,” Weasley said nonchalantly, leaning back into his chair. “No matter the universe, you couldn’t help but be drawn to my magnetic personality and my striking good looks…” She laughed, and he smiled dimly before dropping the joking tone: “But, in all seriousness, Hermione Granger, I think we would’ve met in any universe.”

“Well, according to the 'many worlds’ theory, you do have to account for a universe in which we didn't—”

“Oh, technicalities,” he groaned, “I’m trying to be smooth here. But I’m serious.”

“In any universe?”

“In any universe. Even in one where we go to some barmy wizard school instead of uni and you’re the brightest witch our age and I’m a clumsy git who keeps screwing up whatever he points his wand at.”

She laughed fully now, throwing her head back and flashing him a full smile: “Ronald, that’s ridiculous.”

“But I’m serious,” Weasley said, daring to inch his hand closer to hers. Their fingertips touched, and she looked him straight in the eye. “In another universe, Granger, any universe, you’re the only girl I would’ve wanted to meet.”

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated T #cw:#cw: alcohol #Ace safe #not safe for ramadan

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Everything And More, 1/3 (Blu/Cheryl) - Juno

Summary: Blu and Cheryl discover they are soulmates … at the worst time possible. Does distance really make the heart grow fonder?

(A/N: This is a prequel to another fic I wrote which is on AO3, but can be read on its own too. Just wanted to do something with some DRUK girls, and there will be more to come! No CWs for this chapter. Hope you enjoy this so far.)

“Surprise, surprise!”

Cheryl had only had to open the door to the oddly quiet living room to instantly jump out of her skin the sight and sound of all her friends, the synchronised bangs of party poppers, streams of colours through the air. Something shattered in the kitchen through the open door at the back of the living room (most likely the walking hazard that was Kendall knocking a mug over), but shrieks and cheers covered up most of the noise.

She instantly turned backwards to meet Vivienne’s smug smile, as she stood behind her, and hit her with the paper KFC bag that was in her left hand.

“I knew you were doing this!” Cheryl cried, although really she would never have guessed.

“Give over, Chez, you had no idea. You thought we were just going for nuggets. Anyway, d’you like it?” Viv’s grin was a little forced.

“I love it! Babe, thank you so much!” Cheryl tugged Vivienne down the six inch difference in height to hug her round the neck.

A gentle ahem from inside the front room interrupted them, and Cheryl turned to Divina, standing waiting her turn.

“Divina did the decorations,” Viv muttered, but she needn’t have said; it was obvious by their precise locations and mix of pastels (but no other bright colours) that it was Divina’s hand leading all of this set up. Cheryl just dragged Divina towards them both, happy they’d put their mutual dislike aside even if it just for this.

“You didn’t think we’d let you go off to America without one last party, did you?” Divina exclaimed.

“Guys! You really shouldn’t have! Oh, I’m gonna cry!” Cheryl finally put down the KFC bag, nuggets spilling on the floor, to wipe her eyes.

Divina seized her by the cheeks. “Less of that, Cheryl, no tears today, okay? Come in and we’ll get the party going.” Divina steered Cheryl into the living room out of Vivienne’s arms, and Baga grinned as she handed her a mug.

But Cheryl knew better than to drink it right off the bat.

“What’s this, Bags?”

“Just coke,” Baga shrugged.

“Coke and what?”

“Coke and a mug.”

“Coke and what, Baga?”

But Baga just grinned. “Drink it and find out!”

Cheryl put the mug to her lips and … Oh, yes, coke and some fucking paint thinner, she realised. This was going to be an interesting afternoon. Just Baga feeding them all more and more alcohol from her mum’s special cupboard and topping it all up with water or apple juice or whatever hair-brained scheme Baga seemed to have thought up next.

Speaking of her mum …

“Viv,” Cheryl realised, turning to her, “does my mum know you’re all here?”

Vivienne blinked and looked at the painting on the wall.

“Viv! Tell me!”

“What are we playing first, girls?” Baga ignored Cheryl, steering her to the dining table which was large enough for six, and littered with bottles and cans. “Make space! Cards? Anyone brought cards?”

“Baga, no way, I told you I’m not playing Ring Of Fire again.” Kat folded her arms, glaring at her.

“Shut up, Kat. Who wants Ring Of Fire?”

“I’ve got a deck of cards!” Vivienne declared, producing one from her bra.

“No way am I playing with those.” This time it was Divina’s turn to put her foot down. “Not when they’ve spent all morning in Vivienne’s tits. I might catch something.”

“Only thing you’ll catch is some class, girl.” Vivienne replied smoothly.

“Class? From you? I don’t think.”

“Okay, okay!” Baga huffed. “Jesus Christ, you lot. Someone else suggest something then. Chez, get that down your neck.”

Cheryl focused on drinking while the others argued about the game. Viv and Divina kept shooting barbs at each other, with Vinegar egging them on and Sum waving her hands in the air trying to calm both of them down. Baga’s face grew redder and redder as she fought not to shout at them, while Crystal, Kat and Kendall went to the back door to vape.

Wait.

“Is Blu not coming?” Cheryl asked in the kitchen, but the argument was reaching a crescendo. She drained the mug and went outside to the back garden. Crystal was blowing smoke rings, while Kat and Kendall sat in the grass, legs intertwined, passing Kendall’s vape pen between them and picking at the daisies.

“Where’s Blu?” Cheryl asked Crystal, thinking Kat and Kendall were too preoccupied for company.

“She’s still got flu,” Crystal replied, blowing a cloud of smoke through the centre of her newest smoke ring. “She couldn’t come.”

——

Fuck this. Fuck the flu.

Blu felt like shit, and not just because of the flu. She was missing Cheryl’s surprise party. God, what irony. She hadn’t missed a day of term over the whole of sixth form, and now she had the worst flu of her life at the end of the summer holidays, right before everyone was going to uni and right before Cheryl was flying to America.

She looked down at her phone from earlier when she’d messaged Viv.

Blu: sorry im still sick

Blu: mam wont let me out the house

Blu: best i can hope for is to be better for monday to come to the airport

Viv: Can’t be helped girl xx

Viv: Hope your feelin better soon xx

She’d wanted to see Cheryl’s face when Viv brought her in for the surprise, because Cheryl would never guess in a million years and her face would be a picture.

She’d wanted to savour every minute she was still with her best friend before he had to get on the plane and go on that scholarship.

She’d wanted to give Cheryl her present at the party. Nothing worth a lot of money, or big, but something that meant a lot to Blu and she hoped to Cheryl too.

Sighing, she looked over at the corner where it was wrapped, ready to go. Where she’d almost fallen on it this morning, getting up and out of bed. Telling her ma she felt fine, before her unsteady legs gave out under her and she crashed into the wall.

It sucks being in bed all day.

She looked down at her watch - one of those new ones with the soulmate-finder on it, to see that the day was moving frustratingly slowly. There was nothing onTV, she’d watched what felt like the whole of Netflix, and she still didn’t really want to eat.

With a growl of frustration, she tugged the duvet over her head and snuggled down, hoping that being good and staying in bed would help her fever hurry the fuck up and leave her in time for Monday.

Then I can say bye.

She couldn’t let Cheryl go without saying goodbye. Cheryl was far more than her best friend.

Coming over from Belfast after her parents’ divorce two years ago felt like wrenching a tree from its roots and trying to plant it in rocks. London was too big, and even now Blu still wasn’t altogether used to central London, but here on the outskirts wasn’t as bad.

In addition to a different country, she’d had to shift her studies here too, and her first day at her new school had felt like all the wires in her brain had been rearranged. Besides, having the badge of honour of being the New Girl among these sixth formers who had already known each other for five years was never going to be straightforward.

But her first lesson, on her first day, Business Studies, had seen the prefect Cheryl toss her hair back from her shoulders and pat the empty space at the desk next to her, her smile charming and so fucking genuine.

It had been all Blu had needed for something hot to blossom in her chest.

She’d been so confused. Back at school in Belfast, she’d convinced herself having crushes on her girl friends was just a phase, as her ma had said, and she would grow out of it. But meeting Cheryl had made her sure that it definitely wasn’t just a phase. The crushes she’d had in Belfast came and went, like clouds on a windy day; like the boys who had entered her life but who had never felt real, and had let her go like the wisp of smoke she turned into. But Blu had never once moved on from Cheryl. Cheryl was the sky beyond the clouds. In her mind now, that was all there was.

Blu had shook when she’d told her ma she was certain now, over Christmas holidays in Year 12 - certain that she didlike girls, this wasn’t going away, and there was This Girl in her life now, and This Girl was incredible, kind, talented, gorgeous … and probably as straight as a poker. And her ma had nodded along with her confession, reassured her, let her cry at the relief.

Cheryl remained This Girl.

Incredible, kind, talented, gorgeous, and Blu was convinced poker-straight.

Blu opened her eyes, stunned to see the clock had moved on to seven pm in what felt like no time at all. She’d slept, by some miracle.

Her throat felt much better, too.

——

Three rounds of Ring Of Fire and countless attempts at Among Us later, and Cheryl was warm and drunk and swaying happily to the music from Divina’s Spotify playlist. Among Us had gone to pieces after everyone had collectively decided that Crystal was just always going to be the imposter and Crystal made no attempt to dissuade them; simply flipping her hair back and winking at them.

Cheryl felt the familiar sensation of Vivienne’s fingers at the back of her neck, tugging her hair back to braid. It transported Cheryl to being in Year 7 again, when Cheryl had had her super-long hair, and Viv had been obsessed with braiding it at every opportunity. Now, with long gentle fingers at the base of her scalp, Cheryl let herself ascend to cloud nine of relaxation.

“You having a good time?” Viv asked softly.

It was a tone she didn’t really use with the rest of the group; her own quiet way of caring. Cheryl tried to nod.

“Stop it, girl, your braid is coming out!”

“Sorry. Viv? Mum did know about this party, didn’t she, babe?”

Vivienne cackled in response to Cheryl’s tentative question. “Of course she did, like Divina would have decorated your house like that if your mum hadn’t known about us giving you a party.”

Divina spun round at her name, her red hair seeming to flare up. “Vivienne, if you don’t stop -“

But Divina was interrupted by a sharp nudge in the ribs from Crystal, and a pointed glance to Sum, who Cheryl only just noticed was lying on the ground, her hands in her rucksack. She sat back up with an impish grin.

“Do you want to play some pass the parcel?” Sum asked, her eyelids drooping as she handed a parcel wrapped in brown paper to Cheryl. Her words were slurred; Sum was the lightweight of the group, for sure. Still, Cheryl was drunk enough not to think that pass the parcel was a stupid idea.

“Let’s do it then!” Cheryl shouted above the music. “Everyone get on the floor!”

“Some of us don’t need to go far, do we?”

“Shut up, Kendall, I’m not that short!”

“Just shut up and sit down, Baga,” Cheryl pulled her down to sit with them all. “Right - who’s got the music on?”

“Me,” Divina said, holding her phone up. “I’ll do the stops.”

The parcel took forever to go round everyone, with them all having a turn to unwrap a layer. After the seventh layer was unwrapped, Vivienne realised that Divina was not stopping the music when she had the parcel, resulting in yet another argument. But once everyone had had a turn, as expected, the parcel landed on Cheryl as the music stopped.

It was a small box, big enough to fit in her hands as she cupped it. It had to be the last layer before the gift was revealed. Obviously, Cheryl thought to herself, they’ve planned all of this.

She tore the paper off, and was stunned.

“This is - guys -“

Cheryl had seen the adverts for the soulmate-finding smart watches, but holding it in her hands … it felt surreal.

“We wanted to get you something meaningful,” Sum was smiling warmly as she spoke, “and so we all got together and bought you this watch.”

Sure, Cheryl would have loved to have owned one of these watches before, but they were so expensive and so new, that she thought it would probably be years before she’d own one at least. And now, here was the small box that held one, of her very own.

“God - you must have spent a fucking fortune on me, you didn’t have to do that …”

Cheryl found tears come readily to her eyes as Baga gave her a hug.

“Chez, it’s fine. Maybe now you’ll find an American soulmate!”

“Maybe.”

“And then you can stay in America and not come back!”

Cheryl forced a smile as she patted Baga on the back, letting the tears fall now.

“We’ll need to set you up before you go so when you get there you can meet some American as soon as you land. There’s some, like, personality quiz or something they make you take so they can set you up with a soulmate. Give me your phone and I’ll set you up.” Divina reached for Cheryl’s phone.

“Hey, hey, what makes you think you’re going to be setting her up, Divina?” Viv protested. “We all bought it, so we allget to do it.”

“Why can’t you fucking -“

“Shut the fuck up! Both of you!” Crystal shouted above them both; the only one still seemingly sober. “God, you’re both being fucking childish.”

“We’re all doing it,” Vinegar announced, and her authoritative tone as always caused the rest of the group to go quiet; Divina as docile as a lamb as she handed over Cheryl’s phone and the watch.

The nine of them poured the rest of the spirits and the mixers into each other’s mugs and glasses, and gathered round Vinegar as she downloaded the app onto Cheryl’s phone and started filling in the questions on the personality test.

They’d been a group for seven years, and although they didn’t always all get along now, it was the closest Cheryl felt to anyone. Cheryl glanced round at her friends, close as sisters but loyal as family, feeling tears hot in her eyes once again. The slight unnerving feeling in her gut that she had every now and then threatened to throw her off course again, intrusive thoughts creeping back in.

Is this the right thing?

Divina and Viv weren’t staring daggers at each other for the first time in the last month; instead working in tandem and chuckling softly at each other. Vinegar, her tongue worrying her lip in concentration, tapped answers to the questions as the girls called them. Kendall motioned to Kat with her vape, and the two backed away to the door of the kitchen, Sum following them.

A Levels had been and gone, and school was officially done. Cheryl’s scholarship to the prestigious Iman Performing Arts college in New York City was secured, plus the resettlement grant which would pay for moving costs.

She was the only one leaving England behind.

Blu would get it. Blu knows what it’s like to move countries. But Blu has the flu.

She giggled to herself at the rhyming thought, the only thing she could do to keep from crying again. Baga was already eyeing her to make sure she didn’t. The last thing she wanted was for her makeup to smear any more than it already was.

But it felt so much like her bubble of school, of normal life, was ending; ready for this new world of academia and New York to begin. It was a dream come true and a nightmare rolled into one. But Blu would understand, because she’d already moved to another country.

She wished for Blu more than ever at that moment.

Before she could think about it too much, her phone was thrust back into her hand by Vinegar, the questions all completed.

“There you are, babes.” Vinegar pointed to the bottom of the page. “If you like what we’ve done, just hit go.”

Cheryl didn’t feel as if all the words were going in, as she looked down the page, reading descriptions of herself, answers to family questions, life, hobbies, hopes and dreams. She could see the words, but they didn’t register; and as she read them, they felt as if they were describing someone else, someone who maybe existed in a mirror rather than a physical form.

When she got all to way to the top, she blinked at the ‘looking for’ box. Vinegar had entered Men, but Cheryl hesitated. That wasn’t … quite right.

This is it, Chez. Now or never.

Vodka was great for a confidence boost. She tapped the button where Vinegar had added that she was looking for Men, and changed it to Any gender instead.

A detail that wasn’t missed by Vinegar’s inquisitive gaze.

“Wait, hold on, hold on. Chez? Chez!”

Vivienne turned to look, and so did Divina and Baga.

“Oh, finally!” Baga exclaimed, dragging Cheryl back into a hug. “We wondered if you’d admit it before you left.”

“What? How did you know?” Cheryl cried.

But none of them would tell her; just smirking at one another and alternating her with hugs.

——

Cheryl’s flight wasn’t set to leave until five, but she had to be there three hours early to get through customs - how did that make sense, Blu thought, when she could arrive forty minutes before and still get back to Belfast - and so Blu had wanted to be there early, but there were so many people on the Tube, plus a breakdown at St Pancras, meaning she had barely any time to sprint across the glistening tiles at Heathrow airport.

Where is she?

The departures board said her flight was already going through baggage check in and security. There wasn’t much time. She followed the signs to the bag drop …

“Blu!”

Crystal was coming towards her, and Blu saw behind her Divina, Viv and Baga; all presumably having come down in Divina’s cramped little third-hand Ford KA. Viv was rubbing her eyes, and the telltale mascara lines on her cheeks told no lies.

“That’s it, then,” Crystal nodded, looking gravely at Blu. “She’s putting her bags through and then - well, she’s gone until Christmas.”

“You can still catch her after she comes out of baggage check in, Blu,” Divina said gently.

Blu didn’t pause to second guess; she sprinted past them, towards the baggage drop, watching people queue with their cases, looking at the queues for any sign of her.

And there she was.

Cheryl in the flesh, coming out of the baggage drop and about to ship herself almost halfway around the world; her normally perfect blonde hair tied off her face; her normally flawless makeup not even slightly present. Just Chez in a baggy shirt, denim jacket, and a pair of leggings, ready to fly. Ready to leave this bubble behind.

Blu had never loved her more.

Before she had the chance to call her, their eyes met. Blu watched them expand, the elated grin flood her face, and her arms open as Blu ran into them. Cheryl caught her, squeezed tightly …

Time stopped.

How was she meant to let Cheryl go? They’d only known each other these last two years …

They hadn’t had the time as besties the rest of them had had, but Blu knew that Cheryl just felt like a part of her now; as if each of them were a jigsaw with one piece of each other that fit perfectly.

It’s not the end. It’s not the end.

But as much as Blu repeated that to herself, something churned in her stomach at the thought of Cheryl leaving.

When time finally flooded back into their day, as Cheryl pulled away; Blu watched her green eyes fill with tears and Cheryl hurriedly wipe them away.

“Sorry,” Cheryl muttered, “I knew I was gonna cry at some point.”

“It’s alright,” Blu whispered, her own voice breaking too much to speak louder.

Cheryl nodded, taking Blu’s hand and squeezing, gazing at the ground, giving Blu as reassuring a smile as she could muster when she was evidently breaking in two.

“I’ll be back at Christmas,” Cheryl was murmuring, meeting Blu’s eyes again, “and in summer. That’s not long. Christmas is only, what, four months away. And we’ve got Skype. Facetime. Whatever. We’ve got - we’ve got everything. We’ll stay in touch. We will. We all will. We …”

“I know.” Blu nodded back at her. “We’ll talk - every day if you want, Cheryl.”

Cheryl nodded again, hitching her rucksack higher on her back.

“I have to go through security.”

“Before you go -“ Blu had almost forgotten. Her own present. She tugged it from her bag, small as it was, wrapped in brightly-coloured paper. Cheryl would probably guess at what it was from the size and shape, but she still rattled it next to her ear for good measure, before laughing and taking off her rucksack to put it in.

“I’ll open it on the plane.”

“Alright,” Blu replied, but Cheryl was frozen, her eyes wide, pleading. Asking something that Blu couldn’t hear, couldn’t understand.

“You don’t want to miss your plane, do you?” Blu whispered.

“No.” Cheryl took a deep breath. “Thank you, Blu.” And with a shy smile, she leaned in and ever so gently gave Blu a kiss on the cheek.

It was the last thing Blu expected. She held her breath, wishing time would stop again, wishing she could hold on to this moment, or drag Cheryl back off the plane. But they’d had so much time. Over school, over summer, and nowwasn’t the right moment.

“Bye, Blu. Thanks for the present. See you at Christmas.”

Blu feigned nonchalance. “If we let you back in the country.”

Finally, Cheryl managed a laugh. Squeezing Blu’s hand for the last time, Cheryl pulled away, finally letting her go.

Blu let her, and watched her walk away to the escalator up to Security, the first steps to her new life in America.

It was only when Blu reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes that she saw the blue notification light on her new watch. She hadn’t figured out what all the notification lights meant yet, so frowning, she tapped the button on the screen.

‘A soulmate is within a 10m radius. Please press the blue button to start your timer. You have one day for your soulmate to respond. You then have 100 hours to connect. Alternatively, please press the red button to decline this opportunity.’

Blu felt her legs tremble.

No fucking way.

She was frozen to the spot, reading the message over and over.

Turning her head back up, she watched Cheryl reach the top of the escalator. About to head to Departures.

Now was the only chance she would have before she lost her.

But Blu couldn’t move.

Finally, her legs seemed to obey her as she tore to the escalator, taking the steps three at a time, and at the top - sighing with relief - Cheryl was still there, putting her liquid items into the tiny plastic bags, draining her bottle of water to the last drop.

“Cheryl!”

Cheryl spun at the shrill sound of her name, a split second before Blu launched herself at her. She opened her arms and caught her a second time that day.

“Blu? What’s wrong? What -“

“We got you a soulmate watch, didn’t we?” Blu could barely catch her breath, her heart hammering. “Are you wearing it right now?”

“Yeah, it’s here,” Cheryl nodded, and held up her wrist. Something caught her eye, and frowning, she looked at it. “Why is there a light on it?”

Blu didn’t reply; she simply held up her own watch, with the same notification light.

“You’ve got a soulmate watch too? Wait, why is yours like that as well?” Cheryl said, but Blu didn’t need to respond. Cheryl’s mouth fell open, and she turned her eyes from the watch to Blu; who watched her realisation and her every thought as it crossed her face.

Cheryl - isn’t straight either?

“You -“ Cheryl’s eyes filled with the same easy tears that she always seemed to produce; always the easiest cryer of the group of them, always the most emotional. “I can’t believe it. You did, too?”

Blu nodded, weak with relief. “Since the start of sixth form.”

Cheryl gasped. “Since we got paired up for business studies! God, two years! Two years we’ve wasted, not doing this!”

Before she could ask what she meant, Cheryl tugged Blu towards her, closing the distance, kissing her lips; and it was everything and more that Blu had dreamed it would be. Cheryl might not have been wearing makeup, but she still smelled divine, her warmth a solace, a right place to be. Blu wrapped her arms around Cheryl’s waist, hoping to go deeper, but Cheryl let her go suddenly.

Blu saw her eyes cloud over once again.

“How am I meant to get on the plane if we’re -“

But she couldn’t finish the sentence, words failing Cheryl for probably the first time in her life. Blu looked at the Departures gates, ignoring everyone else around them, and took a deep breath, swallowing hard.

“For your dream, Cheryl,” Blu whispered. “This is what you’ve wanted forever. You’ve always said that. Remember - remember that day you got the scholarship through? When we were in class?”

“God, we got so drunk that day,” Cheryl giggled.

“Yeah, well, you need to go for your dream.”

“But - “ Cheryl swallowed, her voice an octave higher than usual. “But we’re soulmates, Blu.”

Her words wrapped themselves tightly around Blu’s heart, and she thought she’d never in her life forget the ice-cold sorrow in Cheryl’s voice … but she couldn’t let that influence anything rash.

She sniffed, trying to hold her tears back. “You have to go, Cheryl. You’ll miss your flight. I’ll be here for you, when you get off it again, at Christmas. I promise.” Blu rubbed her arm. “I’ll be right here, at Heathrow. Go get your dream, girl.”

“God, we’re stupid,” Cheryl muttered, “for not realising sooner.”

Blu pressed Accept on her watch, and a new message came up.

‘Thank you for selecting. Your soulmate has one day to respond. You will be notified when they make their decision.’

“Tap yours.”

Cheryl giggled. “Why? It’s definitely me.” But she did so anyway.

Blu felt her watch vibrate again, presumably with another message, but she didn’t care; Cheryl was here, and the watch had somehow made everything they’d both hidden for two years come into the light, fall into place like the missing jigsaw pieces.

“What - what now?”

But Cheryl didn’t reply; she grinned through her tears as she pulled Blu back towards her for a last kiss; one that felt like sustainment, like life itself. Blu could do nothing now but enjoy this moment, the final one for now.

Cheryl finally let her go, and Blu had to tell her to go before she changed her mind.

“Get your flight! Go and get your dream!”

Cheryl looked at the security desks, then wistfully at Blu.

“I’ll be back at Christmas, alright, babe?”

“I’ll be here for when you land. I promise.”

Blu let her go.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #uk1 #blu x cheryl #cheryl hole #blu hydrangea #divina de campo #the vivienne #baga chipz #fluff #college au #university au #soulmate au #lesbian au #juno

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elftwink · 4 years ago

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fuck it excerpts from random wips time. ages ago i started an m9 uni au based on that one tiktok where a friend group accidentally left their friend at the club/party and traded her with just some random woman cos they were all so drunk and will i ever finish it? probably not. am i going to share some of it anyway? yes i am

“Mollymauk?”

It seems so improbable that Fjord considers if he is, perhaps, still drunk, but (while that may be true regardless), the person sitting at the table is absolutely his first year roommate, albeit with longer hair and a couple more tattoos. Across from him sits Yasha, a frequent visitor to their dorm room. For a moment, relief floods Fjord, before the confusion catches up with him.

Why the fuck is he at Molly’s place? He doesn’t even know where Molly’s place is. He hasn’t seen Molly in years. He certainly doesn’t remember seeing him last night— or Yasha, for that matter.

Molly’s surprised face turns into a huge grin of recognition. “Fjord! Small world, huh.”

“Did I... come home with you?” Seems odd that Molly was surprised to see him, but maybe Molly is just better at handling hangovers than he is.

“First of all, new accent is nice, suits you. Second of all, must’ve been with Caleb. If you’d woken up with me you would know it.”

Fjord doesn’t doubt that. Still, nothing that Molly said resolves any of the questions he has. “Who... is Caleb?”

“He didn’t tell you his name? Right to business. I suppose that sounds like him.”

“Literally what are you talking about Molly?”

“Fjord you don’t have to play coy, you were in his room. God knows I’ve brought home enough strangers to—”

“There’s nobody else in there, Molly,” Fjord cuts in, “I woke up alone.”

at that point the plot or what passes for plot in this doc starts but nevermind that i also want to share this exchange they have in the car on the way to swap caleb and fjord back

“So, how have you been? Still having a sexuality crisis?”

“Fuck off,” says Fjord, without any venom.

“So yes, I assume.”

“No, I’m gay.”

“Oh brilliant. Am I giving myself too much credit to say I helped?”

“Yes,” says Fjord, although it’s a lie.

“Fair,” says Molly. “I’ve been great, thanks for asking.”

“Molly,” starts Fjord, “I’m terribly sorry I’m not a good conversationalist at the moment, but it is because I might be suffering from alcohol poisoning.”

“You’re fine.”

“My liver is trying to murder me in cold blood.”

“Do not throw up in my car,” interjects Yasha.

its my self indulgent fic i’ll never finish i get to pick the headcanons about fjord. maybe its worth noting this is not a molly/fjord fic (it flip flops back and forth between gen and widofjord, if anything) they just act like this whenever i write them. whats a little homoeroticism between friends

#good idea generator #alcohol /#fic writing tag tba #realized its not very clear but the premise is the fjord and caleb #accidentally went home with each others roomate groups #and the next morning they gotta call each other and be like #'got your roomate. can we get ours back please'#and then they get dennys because its my fic i get to pick the hangover breakfast place

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amethystpath-writes · 4 years ago

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Darling, I Did it for You (Part 18)

Part 1 here

Part 17 here

It's been half a second since I updated this. I've been busy with uni so I've been trying to do drabbles, but this series and my dear Leera and Kastion haven't been forgotten either!

Tag list: @silverwhisperer1 @whatwhumpcomments @whump-me-all-night-long @catsandhotchocolate16 (tag still isn't working :|)

Character key:

Villain= Carson

Hero= Malory/Mal

Brother=Beckley/Beck

Sister=Casey

Caretaker=Dakota/Kota

******

"I'm still mad at you," Malory said as she walked into the theatre room. Her arms were crossed, as if she thought her words wouldn't be enough to express her anger. She sat in a plush chair as far back in the room as possible.

Carson's face scrunched up in confusion. He shifted his body around in his seat to look at the hero. He was sat in the front row, beside Beckley. "If you're still mad then why did you come in here?"

Mal turned her head, not interested in seeing Carson's face. She was angry, and angry meant giving the silent treatment. Well, maybe not completely silent. "Because I heard movie previews playing and I don't have a television in my room. I'm not missing out on any entertainment." She said to Beckley, "Hit play."

Turning his head to face his younger brother, Carson quipped, "Don't hit play." He turned back on Malory. "Are you going to tell me what the problem is or am I just supposed to figure it out?" When she said nothing, he huffed. "If you're so terribly upset then why haven't you left? I told you you're not a prisoner here."

Her face relaxed from a solid wrath to something Mal didn't even understand. A numb? An indifference? She wasn't sure. Either way it didn't matter because she was done speaking to Carson. "Play the movie."

Continue reading below cut ⬇

"Look, I don't want to get in the middle of this. Why don't you guys-"

Malory shook her head, her fury returning. She ignored Beckley as she nearly shouted, "I almost killed you. That's what's wrong." So she wasn't done speaking to him after all.

Carson muttered a quiet 'Oh my god'. "Haven't we already been over this? I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry,I'msorry. Is that enough?" He wasn't meaning to become angry, but else was there to do? He already apologized before, and it was even heartfelt! And Malory had expressed her anger then. Why was she still going on about it?

There was silence. Then there was the sound of a theatre seat's bottom shooting up, slamming into the backside. Next, Mal's footsteps. Finally, a door opening and clicking shut.

"You're more idiotic than I give you credit for," Beckley said to Carson.

"You're going to tell me that she was afraid of killing someone. I already know that. But it's over." He reached across his brother to grab the remote then turned the volume up. Apparently Beckley muted it at some point during the commotion.

"Try again."

"What?"

Beck repeated himself. "Try again. You're close, but not quite there."

Carson sighed. This was ridiculous. "She almost killed me. And for whatever reason that stresses her out more than if she'd killed anyone else."

Beckley patted his older brother on the shoulder before quickly retreating his hand. How could he forget that Carson's powers were growing? Who knew how long it be until touching him would cause paralysis?

"Let's think about it. What could it mean?" Beck stuck his pointer finger out. "One. She doesn't know what she'd do without you. You did kind of steal her from her regular life. Her landlord has probably already thrown her possessions out of the building window."

Well, Carson was sort of paying for rent. Just until he could bring Malory's stuff here, if that's what she wanted. She never brought it up, though, so neither did he.

"Two." Another finger. "Living here is actually more enjoyable than that musty apartment and if you're dead- well, that's just weird. Because then our parents would come back for the funeral, only to discover they had a new child. I don't imagine that going well."

Their parents knew about Malory. Not that she was a superhero- they didn't even know that Carson had powers. They thought Mal was their oldest son's girlfriend. It wasn't Carson's idea. No, it was Casey's. She spoke to her parents more than Beck and Carson did. And she made that outlandish claim just to screw with her older brother.

"Three, and probably the most obvious...she cares for you."

Carson laughed.

"I'm serious. You can't be that oblivious."

"And how would you know? Humour me."

The title screen appeared on the TV. Carson hit play. He didn't even feel like watching the movie anymore. "I'm going to go get her."

"Malory?"

"Yeah. She wanted to watch a movie, so I'm bringing her back downstairs."

Despite acknowledging this time that it could potentially make him numb, Beck put a hand on Carson's shoulder. "She isn't going to come down yet, not unless you can show her that you understand why she's so angry."

Beckley added, "Before you say that you don't understand. I'll tell you. She does care about your idiotic self. Why? Because you showed you cared. Maybe not in the right way at first, but you've grown for her, and that's more than what the last guy did."

Carson raked a hand through his hair. "I don't know."

"You asked her shy she didn't leave."

"Yeah? And?"

"Malory didn't give you an answer." Carson nodded in obvious agreement. "It's because she doesn't want to. Mal isn't afraid of leaving. She said it herself; she almost killed you. If she wanted to leave, she would. But she doesn't want to. You put her in a position to kill the person she loves, and that's why she's angry."

"Who would she have killed besides me though?"

Beck smacked his forehead with an open palm. "You, idiot. She almost killed you. She loves you. Killing you would be a problem, but you couldn't have cared less if she killed you. That bothers her. She cares and loves you more than anything else right now."

"Oh."

The TV continued playing while the two brothers bickered back and forth.

"You really are dunce."

Carson's more logical side snapped back into place again. "Wait. How would you even know?" He shifted in his seat, settling in. "It's not like she told you or anything."

"She didn't have to. Just like you didn't have to tell me."

"I don't love her. I just-" Carson shrugged. "I think it's a possibility."

Beck squinted. "Uh-huh. Okay." He nodded, and Carson could sense the sarcasm in the action. "Whatever you say, big bro." Beckley stood. "I'm going to make some popcorn. Have fun continuing to deny yourself."

In order to not give Beck the satisfaction of a silent agreement, Carson called out, "Don't call me 'bro'. It's weird."

#darling i did it for you #hero x villain #original series #hero x villain story #part 18 #long post

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winryofresembool · 4 years ago

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Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 16

aka Caleo uni au

Chapter summary: Game night at Leo and Calypso's flat.

A/N: So sorry for the delay with this chapter, but better late than never, right? This chapter was both fun but also challenging to write, because I wasn't sure how much game description I can have without making it boring. I myself am a big Pokémon fan (among other things) so adding that was very self-indulgent of me, but I hope that even those of my readers who aren't that familiar with Pokémon will be able to enjoy this chapter. I tried my best to explain some of the most important terms in the author's note on ao3 so you can check that if you want to.

Now, please enjoy and let me know what you think! I've been feeling a bit under the weather lately so comments would really cheer me up! (Ps. since it's already Sunday, I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to update next Thursday but I'll try)

Characters in this ch: Calypso, Leo, Piper, Jason, Annabeth, special guest appearance in the end ;)

Words: 2900+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / next chapter / AO3

…

Saturday came and Leo still hadn’t heard anything from his professors, which he took as a bad sign. Maybe they were still considering if such a problem student would ever be able to go through the tough education. He hadn’t even talked to Jo and Emmie after the incident, claiming that he was currently busy but he’d call back when he had time. He was still determined to try to get over his fear because his flatmate believed in him and thought that he could do it. And if not for anything else, Jo and Emmie hadn’t adopted him just so he would waste the opportunity. Calypso and he had agreed to continue the training the upcoming week, but now, they had something different in their minds: the game night.

Jason and Piper arrived first. They brought their Switch, some games and snacks with them and seemed about as confident about winning their battles as Leo was. Annabeth had told the group she would be arriving a bit late as she had promised to tutor a pupil that afternoon but that arrangement suited everyone well since she wouldn’t be able to participate in the Pokémon tournament anyway.

The group decided to have three battles and the team winning two of them would win the whole competition. Unfortunately for Team Flatmates, Jason and Piper won the first battle quite clearly, causing Calypso to throw annoyed glances at Leo.

“Mister Pokémon Master, I thought you had a plan,” she growled at him while their opponents were highfiving each other.

Leo leaned closer to her, attempting his sneakiest expression: “Just trying to make them feel comfortable, Sunshine. And when they think they got it…”

“You’re either an evil genius or simply an idiot.” Calypso shook her head.

“Hey, what are you two whispering there?” Piper asked loudly from her seat. “One would think that you’re plotting something… Maybe even cheating.”

“Just a mandatory team meeting, Pipes. We don’t cheat. I feel offended that you’d even consider that.” Leo put his hand over his heart to feign innocence.

“Yeah, right,” Piper rolled her eyes. “We almost believe that.”

The second battle was much more even than the first one. In the end both teams were down to one Pokémon, but Leo’s Charizard was faster than Jason’s Magnezone and it managed to finish it off with one final Flamethrower.

“See, Sunshine, if it hadn’t been for my Charizard…”

“Oh my gods, Leo. You just happened to get lucky that Tyranitar’s Rock Throw missed it earlier. Otherwise you’d been done for.”

“Well, they say that even luck has to be deserved,” Leo smirked.

“So that’s what your strategy is?” Jason asked. “Luck?”

“Do I hear complaints? You guys just don’t respect the genius in his element.” Leo protested.

“Well, I guess the final battle will decide who really is a genius and who’s not,” Piper noted and that was the group’s cue to stop trash talking and continue playing.

...

Jason and Piper’s team got a strong start in the last battle. They took down two of Leo and Calypso’s Pokémon before they got any major damage done. But after that Leo showed that sometimes he did have luck on his side; he took a small risk by making Luxray use Thunder against Jason’s flying type and it was worth it. The attack didn’t miss this time and Braviary went down in one hit. After that Leo took another risk by telling Calypso to use a water type Slowbro against Piper’s grass type Lurantis. He had planned ahead though by using a move that made Slowbro faster than Lurantis, and his Pokémon also knew a fire type move Flamethrower, which caused Lurantis to go down after two hits.

From then on the battle progressed more evenly. Charizard and Venusaur were Leo and Calypso’s last Pokémon to stand against Piper and Jason’s Manectric and Umbreon. Calypso suggested they’d try to use Venusaur against Manectric but Leo claimed his Charizard might be able to beat it with one hit. He miscalculated, though. Manectric was still faster and its Discharge was enough to take the Charizard down. Calypso looked at Leo with a ‘what did I say’ expression and took over. Her Venusaur, which was resistant to electric moves, managed to win Manectric, and Calypso couldn’t hide her smug smile when Jason and Piper switched to their last Pokémon.

In advance the last match up seemed pretty even, apart from the fact that Venusaur had already taken a bit of damage in the previous battle. Both Pokémon kept slowly chipping the other one’s energy and then healing up again for a good while until finally, Venusaur got a critical hit with its Giga Drain and made Umbreon faint.

“YES!” Calypso yelled probably louder than Leo had ever heard her yell in the short time he’d known her. Before he had time to react, he felt her arms wrap around him.

“Woah! Someone’s excited.” Leo mumbled against her hair.

“Sorry,” Calypso blushed. “I may have overreacted a bit. But we did it!”

“A critical hit, huh? Those need some luck, don’t you think?” Leo asked her smugly once Calypso had removed her arms from around him.

“Yeah, I guess…” she said, wondering where he was going with his comment.

“I’d advise you to check Venusaur’s held item.” Leo winked and Calypso clicked Venusaur’s data open.

“Dire Hit?” she asked in disbelief. “Did you predict this would happen and that’s why you gave him that? To boost the critical hit ratio?”

“Well, I told you the luck has to be earned sometimes.” Leo’s grin was about as wide as it could get. Calypso didn’t know if she should punch him or hug him again. Her hand remained still in the mid air for a while before she finally decided to put it down, in the small gap between his and her thigh.

“You could have told me that earlier, you frustrating, evil…” She started scolding him.

“Yes? Finish your sentence, please.” Leo challenged, leaning a bit closer to her.

“Not genius,” she said quietly, not able to look him in the eyes.

“Has anyone ever told you guys you’re adorable?” Piper asked all of a sudden and it was then that the flatmates remembered that Jason and Piper indeed were in the room too. They flinched for a moment and then jumped farther from each other.

“Hey, what are you implying?” Leo casted an annoyed look at his friend.

“Pretty sure Mister Genius knows what I’m implying,” Piper said back and caused Leo to groan loudly.

“No way. No. We’re not… I mean I wouldn’t… She wouldn’t…”

“No one understands you, Leo,” Jason stopped his stuttering.

Leo wasn’t about to admit his defeat quite that easily, but luckily he was stopped by the buzzer. Annabeth had finally arrived and Calypso rushed to open the door, trying to put her poker face back on.

“Hi! Sorry I’m late, the pupil had quite a lot of questions this time,” Annabeth explained, glancing at the clock on the wall that showed that the four others had been playing for almost an hour already. “And of course Percy had lost his swimming goggles again and we were searching for them for at least 15 minutes. I promise to kick his butt for that later tonight.”

Calypso was still too distracted by the earlier situation to pay attention to the name Annabeth had mentioned.

“No worries, you probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it anyway. The boys were getting a bit enthusiastic about Pokémon,” she told Annabeth.

“Excuse me, who was literally just screaming and glomping people because she won?” Leo retorted back and Annabeth chuckled at his reaction a bit.

“Hmm, to me it sounds like I’ve missed a lot.” She smirked. “Moving on, though, what are you guys thinking of doing next?”

“We were planning to play Mario Kart,” Calypso gestured towards the console, as she went back to her seat.

“And this time we won’t be playing in pairs so it should be interesting to see how these two will be behaving,” Piper meddled in.

Both Leo and Calypso pretended they didn’t hear her, instead starting to trashtalk each other.

“Okay, Repair Boy, let’s see how far luck will get you in this game.”

“Sunshine, if you think I need luck in Mario Kart… you’re as wrong as my middle school teacher who claimed that my jokes were bad and threw me out of the class just because of that.”

Jason had to disagree with that statement, though. “For me you told that that joke was about the teacher himself and that it was kind of inappropriate. So your teacher was right.”

Leo turned to Calypso. “Why did we invite these two again?” He nodded towards Piper and Jason. “They’re ruining my stories.”

“I think they are just telling the truth,” Calypso chuckled.

“Oh yeah? Let’s see who laughs last when they win this contest.”

“Alright, children,” Annabeth stopped them. “This is fun to listen to but I think the only way to find out who really can play is to play.”

“Annabeth’s right, as usual,” Piper said too. “Let’s do it.”

The friends shared the remote controls and put the game on. Before they got to the character picking, though, Calypso confessed something.

“I have to admit that I haven’t played this game before. Well, I haven’t played most of the games before. Pokémon was easy for me to understand because it’s one of the few games I did play as a kid.”

“Wait… what?” Leo turned to her, his eyes wide. “You have only ever played that game as a kid and did that well?

“You created the team, I only picked what felt good in that moment.” Calypso waved it off. “Without that Dire Hit…”

“Looks like progress has been made between those two,” Annabeth whispered to Piper who snorted at her comment.

“One could say that,” she said with amusement.

“Alright, guys, let’s focus on the relevant things here. It’s time to pick your characters.” Jason ordered and the others had to listen to him. Leo picked Mario, Calypso Princess Daisy, Jason and Piper Toad and Toadette and Annabeth Yoshi (she claimed it reminded her of her boyfriend). Leo had to instruct Calypso briefly on the functions of the remote control for this specific game, but after that the group was ready.

It took Calypso a while to learn to use the remote control but Leo had to give it to her, she really gave it her all. In the first race she was the last, but she slowly started getting better until finally she was fourth, managing to win Piper while Leo, Jason and Annabeth were still better.

“At this rate you’ll win the guys before they notice it,” Annabeth complimented Calypso. “But don’t expect me to be as easy as they are.”

“How are you that good?” Calypso asked her, knowing she had meant what she had said.

“I guess I just do a lot of things that develop my hand-eye coordination; I draw, play some sports, and believe it or not, my mom also wanted to make sure I’d be good at knitting and weaving so she started teaching me at a young age. Now I haven’t seen her in a long while but I’m still trying to maintain the skill.” Annabeth shrugged.

“In that case, I’m going to continue my hobbies too. Imagine seeing Leo and Jason’s faces when we both win them,” Calypso said, causing the boys to protest.

“The next Cup will decide who wins, OK?” Jason tried to solve the situation after some bickering between the parties.

“Fine,” the girls agreed, but Leo’s face told that he was very ready to show Calypso who the teacher was.

By the last race of the Cup Annabeth was in a clear lead, Jason was second, leading Leo with 5 points, Leo third and somehow Calypso had sneaked to the fourth place 7 points from Leo. In the last round of the last race Leo was leading, others close behind him, when Jason managed to get a blue shell, shooting it at his friend’s car.

“Hey! That’s so unfair!” Leo yelped as he watched his car getting knocked over. Unfortunately for Annabeth, he was situated on the road in a way that she had to slow down a bit when she passed him, but Calypso and Jason had the space to drive on the full speed on the other side of the road. They were already close to the finish line and if the track had been any longer, the race would probably have ended differently, but Leo didn’t have enough time to bounce back after the collision. Jason ended up winning the last race, Calypso being the second, which meant she gained seven points more than Leo did. That, on the other hand, meant that they ended up with exactly the same amount of points in the Cup.

After Leo said a couple of quiet curse words in Spanish, he dared to look at Calypso from the corner of his eye. She was looking at him too and seemingly trying to figure out what she should tell him. He wasn’t able to stay mad after that.

“Guess we’ll be on the podium together,” he went first.

“Yeah,” Calypso nodded. “Hey, you’re not a half bad teacher.”

“Half bad?” A smile spread on Leo’s face. “Hey, guys, did you hear that? Coming from Calypso, that was a big compliment!”

“I can also take it back, if you want,” she said calmly but couldn’t stop herself from smiling as well.

“Good game, Cal,” both Annabeth and Piper told her, giving her high fives.

“Thank you! Next time, I’ll even try to challenge the champion.” Calypso nodded towards Annabeth.

“Good luck with that!” she responded. “I promise I won’t go easy on you.”

“I wouldn’t want that,” Calypso said before turning her attention back to the screen again.

Silence fell into the room as the group watched the award ceremony. Annabeth’s Yoshi rose to the highest podium, Jason’s Toad followed and Leo and Calypso’s Mario and Princess Daisy shared the third one.

“We don’t look that bad together, huh?” Leo noted while drumming his fingers in the same rhythm as the background music. At first he didn’t realize there was anything weird in his words, but the others’ chuckling and Calypso’s pink cheeks woke him up.

“Hu-huh?” she asked, flustered.

“I mean… our characters! They look pretty neat!” He yelped and folded his arms. The others had to bite back their smiles but Piper decided to be kind and change the topic.

“So, we’ve played Pokémon and Mario Kart now… what next?”

Calypso seemed relieved by her question. “I forgot to mention I prepared some presents for the top three! I made some cupcakes and I thought the winner would get three, the second one two and the third one… Don’t worry, Piper, I think I should have one extra cupcake in the fridge.”

“You wouldn’t have had to, I could have eaten Jason’s extra,” Piper said but accepted the cupcake nevertheless when Calypso started sharing them.

Leo wasn’t very willing to give up on his cupcake that he was supposed to share with Calypso.

“So you had an extra cupcake but we still have to share?”

“You already ate one last night! And I don’t have more of them with the frosting right now, the rest are in the freezer.” Calypso protested.

“Such a cold hearted woman,” Leo muttered and snatched the last cupcake from the plate. Calypso didn’t have time to stop him before he had already split the bottom part in half with a knife that had been resting next to the plate. Then he put the other half on the top of the cake and took a huge bite of it.

“Leonidas, what are you doing?!” she exclaimed and tried to reach the cupcake in his hand.

“Eating my share, of course!” he said as he stuffed more of the cake into his mouth.

Calypso was prepared for Leo to run away from her like he had the other day after the chili incident but to her surprise he stayed in one spot. Leo started laughing at her baffled expression.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered her, putting the remains of the cupcake near her face.

“What?” Calypso asked, not expecting that reaction.

“What what, do you think I won’t give you your share of the cupcake? You deserved it!” he said, his eyes gleaming mischievously.

“But you bit that already!” Calypso tried to protest.

“Are you 8? I can always cut this in half with this knife if that’s what you want.”

“Fine,” she finally said, waiting for Leo to finish the cutting before letting him feed her. They didn’t notice that Piper was whispering something to Annabeth and Jason. The group seemed to agree about something, but their whispering was interrupted when there was a knock on the front door.

“That’s probably just Percy, he must have gotten out of his practice by now.” Annabeth said and went to open the door.

“Hi, I tried to call you but I guess you didn’t hear your phone or something,” a male voice could soon be heard in the hallway. “Someone let me in downstairs while I was… you?”

Everyone was now able to see the newcomer who stopped in his tracks when he recognized Calypso. She had frosting all over her face, Leo’s hand on her shoulder when she turned to look at him. “Percy?”

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

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ravenforce · 5 years ago

Text

Ithaca Pt. 1

Word Count: 2928

Warning/s: None, right now.

A/N: The O8 x Avengers College Au crossover fic you didn’t ask for is here, or at least the first part of it. I would first like to explain that Ithaca will be Avengers arc of this crossover. Manhattan will be the O8 parts. Secondly, I would like to apologize for being away all the time. December just really knocks the life out of me, to be honest. I’m not even playing a lot of video games as compared to the end of November but I’m still always tired. Anyway, I’m sorry. Lastly, as I said before, this fic is the wild and ambitious. So I would apologize in advance if details get inconsistent.

PS. I would really love to hear your feed. Hit my inbox or the comments. xx

PSS. No pairing yet. Pairings will unfold as the story goes.

Part 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

***

Looking at your one backpack sitting idly in front of you outside the JFK, waiting for your best friend Maria to pick you up. You realized it’s been too long since you’ve been home. Home being where Maria is. She was adopted by Nick when you were thirteen. Giving you five years alone in the system, jumping from one foster home to another until you were old enough to take care of yourself.

You were never resentful that Maria got adopted and you never did. You were always too smart and too smart-mouth to be adopted anyway. You also love her too much to begrudge her of anything. Besides, she never stopped being your best friend even after she moved to New York. You two still talked every day, you both still know the ins and outs of each other lives even though you’re a few states or even a coast apart.

When you turned eighteen, you run away from foster care and graduated with your first degree in Literature and Mathematics at MIT. That’s right, after Maria left, you poured your energy into school effectively accelerating you to university. Now at 21, you decided to give in to Maria’s plea for you to come home and continue your education at Cornell University where she’s attending. Having finished all your minor classes, you’re able to transfer at Cornell as a third-year Art student.

“Y/N!!!!”

You looked to your right to see Maria running towards you. Thanks to all the time you spent doing Muay Thai, you were able to keep your balance after Maria launched herself on your person.

“Y/N,” she muttered against your hair. By the watery quality of her voice, you have no doubt that she’s actually tearing up in your arms.

“Hey,” you said a little breathlessly before wrapping your arms around her tighter.

Maria pulled away after a minute and you’re able to see her tear-stained face and beautiful smile. She runs her eyes all over your face and down to your body to assess your physical well-being.

“God, you look so good,” she said, content that you didn’t lie to her when you said you did learn how to cook for yourself and not rely on takeaway food forever.

“Thank you. You look amazing too.” Not that Maria ever looks anything short of magnificent anyway. Even when you two were still at the orphanage wearing hand-me-down clothes, she looked beautiful.

Maria blushed profusely before tugging you out of the airport and towards the parking lot. It was so good to have her hold your hand again and listen to her speaking voice in person after being apart for so long.

“What?” she asked when she noticed you staring at her after you both got inside her car.

You smiled softly. “Nothing, I just missed you. Missed this,” you said and Maria understood.

“I miss you too, silly,” she said before unbuckling her seat belt and leaning against her console to kiss your cheeks.

It was then your turn to blush. When she noticed it, she laughed remembering how you hate public displays of affection so much. Such a cool guy.

“Stop laughing,” you said with a pout, which prompted her to laugh harder as she backed out of the parking lot.

***

The drive from the airport to Ithaca took a while but you and Maria didn’t mind. You spent the rest of the drive back talking about literally everything. You weren’t surprised when Maria pulled up a tall building at the City Center. After all, she did tell you she was renting at a luxury apartment smack in the middle of busy Ithaca. What surprised you was Nick being there to wrap you up in a hug the moment you step inside the apartment.

“Y/N!!!” he yelled before hugging you.

You just had to chuckle at how he and Maria greeted you in the exact same way.

“Hey, Nick,” you said before hugging him back. “What are you doing here?”

Nick pulled back and grinned at you. “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see you. Besides, Maria needed help cleaning up,” he explained solemnly.

“Oh Nick, let’s give her the house tour before you tell her how messy I have been,” Maria said emerging from her bedroom wearing a fresh shirt.

The layout of the house is pretty cut-through. The first thing you will see when you enter the apartment is the modern kitchen attached to a small living room and a balcony on the far side. To the right is the shoe closet, and the hallway leading to a small storage room, a common bathroom, and the bedrooms.

“And this will be your bedroom,” Maria said after opening the second door to your left.

You can tell Nick and Maria took the time to customize your room to give you the best comfort available the moment you flopped down the bed. The sheet smelled fresh off the laundry, and the bed was the softest you ever slept in. Maria gave you literally five seconds to have the bed all to yourself before she launched herself next to you, and tugging you against her. Nick watched you two cuddle and giggle like a pair of five years old before he decides he has seen enough.

“Alright children, I’ll step out for a while to get us some food. Both of you freshen up before dinner,” Nick said from the doorway.

“Yes dad!” you both yelled at the same time. Nick shook his head with a smile before leaving you two alone.

When you heard the apartment door closed, you burrowed your head back against Maria’s neck and cuddled her as your life depended on it.

“Welcome home,” she whispered before kissing the crown of your head.

***

Between settling in, and Maria excitedly showing you around town, the weekend was a blur. You woke up Monday morning with no Maria but a sweet little note on your breakfast telling you that she had to go to school without you because she has early morning swimming practice. You wished to go to school together like old times but you are running on a different schedule than Maria. You sat down and savored the tasty ensemble of crispy bacon, perfectly poached eggs, toasts and black coffee that your best friend made you while scrolling through your phone to check on your schedule again.

When you arrived at school with plenty of time to spare to find your classroom. The last thing you want to be on your first day is to be late. You were checking your phone again for your schedule when someone spoke in front of you.

“Y/N Y/L/N?”

When you looked up, you had to restrain yourself from blinking twice because there stood in front of you is probably the most beautiful human you’ve ever laid eyes on. You take back what you said about being late on your first day. The last thing you want to be on your first day in uni is to have gay panic in front of your new school mate, who you’ll probably see often if the Head Girl pin on her lapel is anything to go by.

You cleared your throat. “Who’s asking?” you managed to ask as casual as possible.

“Natasha Romanoff, Student Council President,” she introduced herself politely while extending out her hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

You smiled shyly and fought the blush that’s creeping up under your shirt. “Pleasure is all mine,” you said softly.

Natasha looked at you for a second before relaxing her posture and smiling. “I’m here to give you the school tour,” she explained before pulling the door, prompting you to walk with her.

Natasha’s very leisurely phase made you wonder if you’ll ever make it in time for the first period. You glanced at your watch.

“Oh,” Natasha gasped and frowned. “Am I boring you?” she asked quietly.

“What?!” you exclaimed, earning a few curious looks from students at the hall.

Nat didn’t bother to pay them any attention. She’s looking only at you. “No, no, you’re not boring. I was just wondering if I’m allowed to skip the first period on my first day of school because this is by far the coolest school tour I’ve ever done,” you rambled on until you saw the grin on Natasha’s face.

“You’re cute when you ramble,” she said matter-of-factly. “And no, you’re not allowed to skip the first period because you’re here.”

You glanced at the door and saw that you were indeed standing in front of your classroom. You blushed and forced yourself to look back at this intriguing specimen of a human being in front of you.

“Oh.”

Natasha took a step towards you and tucked a stray hair behind your ear. “See you later, Y/L/N,” she said before walking gracefully away.

***

When you got inside the room, it was almost half full. No one paid you any attention because Natasha, bless her heart, walked you to the back door. When the bell rung, the only seat left was the one next to you. About twenty minutes after the class started, the front door swung open and a disheveled blonde walked inside.

“Ms. Danvers. Glad you’re able to join us today,” the teacher said. “And only twenty minutes late.”

The whole room laughed, the blonde woman chuckled too.

“Sorry Mr. Banner but it’s the meet season,” the blonde girl said.

Mr. Banner just sighed and waved her off before continuing the lecture. The blonde girl immediately spotted the only empty seat next to you. Your eyes met and for the second time that day you felt like your breath has been knocked out of you. For her part, Danvers seems to have frozen on her spot on the podium as well before she heard Mr. Banner clear his throat.

“Get it together, Danvers and sit already.”

Danvers took the steps of the stairs up to you in twos.

“Hi, I’m Carol. Carol Danvers,” she introduced herself before flopping down on her seat.

God, she’s even more attractive sitting there a foot away from you. Her hair’s golden, her eyes are warm and her smile is radiant.

“Hi, Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N,” you whispered.

She grinned. “Oh, you’re the genius from MIT? Nice to meet you. Maria can’t stop talking about you,” she tried to whisper but fail.

“You know Maria?” you asked even though you weren’t confused about how Maria would be friends with such a looker.

Before Carol can answer though, Mr. Banner shut his book loudly. When you turned back towards the front, Mr. Banner was looking straight at you and Carol.

“Care to include us in your discussion, girls?” he asked, not sounding very pleased.

You were on the way to shaking your head and shrinking in your seat before Carol spoke. “Did you know we have a MENSA student with us right now?” she asked. She sounds like she’s bragging a long-time friend’s achievement.

Mr. Banner didn’t look impressed. “I know Carol, that’s why I left that seat for you. So you can, maybe draw some inspiration and put an effort into this class.”

The whole room rambled with laughter. Carol still didn’t look affected by any of it.

“Well,” she started before blatantly checking you out. “I can already feel the inspiration coming.”

There was collective groaning inside the room like Carol does this thing all the time. Mr. Banner even facepalmed, literally. You couldn’t say or do anything but blush profusely on your seat. Mr. Banner called the class in order and continued the lecture with minimal interruptions from Carol because she was paying attention to you more than the blackboard.

When the bell rang, Carol was quickly being sought by various students, most of them are girls. A girl whisked her away, but Carol managed to stop by the door and wink at you. You groaned quietly before reaching out for your bag to look for your phone.

***

You: I swear school is out to get me.

Maria: Already? It’s your first day. Lunch? Meet me at the dining hall.

You: On my way.

Maria: Great! You’re great. Breathe. I love you.

You: Aye. See u.

Maria: Say it!

You rolled your eyes affectionately at your phone before relenting and typing out a response.

You: UGH! Fine! Love you too.

Maria: Now, was that so hard? :)

Growing up on the system though made it a tad hard for you to be vulnerable. Maria’s an exception though.

You shook your head before pocketing your phone and walking towards the direction of the dining hall. It was a part of the school tour with Natasha earlier that morning. So, finding the building wasn’t a problem. The problem was when you arrived, it was already packed full of hungry, noisy college students. The good thing is, looking for Maria on the crowd is second nature to you. You craned your neck up to scan the hall for Maria’s signature tight bun.

It took a grand total of seven seconds before you spotted it on the table smack right in the middle of the hall. You walked casually towards the table but stop short when you realized Maria wasn’t sitting alone. She’s sitting in what you can only guess as the popular kids' table if the sheer number of attractive people sitting on it is to go by.

“You don’t plan on standing there for an hour, do you?” A voice too familiar spoke behind you.

“Stark!” A pretty boy with military cut blonde hair wearing a basketball jersey shouted from the table before you could turn around and answer.

The whole table turned to your direction. Maria smiled at you. Tony didn’t wait for you to turn to him before he’s practically dragging you towards the table.

“Who’s this?”

“Steve, don't be rude,” Natasha said firmly. Steve promptly closed his mouth.

“Everyone, this is Y/N,” Maria introduced.

“Oh! The girl who vested Tony at the tech talent show on his own company?” Steve perked up and teased.

Tony glared before throwing a napkin over Steve’s face. “Shut up,” he growled which prompted the table to erupt with laughter.

“Hey, sit here,” Natasha and Carol said at the same time, which stopped the laughter almost immediately.

Natasha and Carol glared at each other. Everyone was looking at the two’s stare off before a guy with sleek black comb back hair pulled you to sit beside him.

“Problem solved,” he said before smiling at you. You smiled at him thankfully. “I’m Loki. This is my big brother, Thor.”

Thor, amidst his muscular stature, gave you a toothy grin before extending his hand for you to shake. “Welcome to the gang. Don’t worry, we’re not always this messy,” he said. Something about Thor tells you he’s a safe space, so you let your first guard down and relaxed.

“Yeah, we’re always messier,” a girl who has her arms slung at the back on Carol’s chair said. “I’m Valkyrie, Val for short.”

You murmured a soft ‘nice to meet you’ but your eyes are focused on Val’s fingers playing with the ends of Carol’s blonde curls. You averted your eyes only for you to catch Natasha’s. She smiled before sliding across the table the other half of her sandwich.

“You shouldn’t skip meals,” she explained softly.

“I wasn’t planning to but thank you,” you answered gratefully before taking a bite off the sandwich. It’s peanut butter, one of your favorites.

Maria stayed low and watched the interaction between you, Natasha and Carol. She tossed the bottle of coconut water she got for you earlier before pulling out her phone.

Maria: Now, I get it. Tread carefully, baby.

You took a quick glance at your phone when you heard a notification. You looked at your best friend and rolled your eyes at her before turning back your attention at your conversation with Tony, Thor, and Loki.

#avengers imagine #oceans 8 imagine #avengers x oceans 8 #avengers x reader #oceans 8 x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #carol danvers x reader #maria hill x reader #natasha romanoff #carol danvers #maria hill #tony stark #steve rogers #thor #loki #valkyrie #avengers #oceans 8 #raven writes

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carsontheleft · 4 years ago

Text

One sentimental moment

Summary: Gwilym and Ben know each other through an app and set up strict boundaries for their relationship - sex only, no feelings. When Gwil is hurt, Ben needs to figure out what he really wants.

Pairing: GwilxBen

Comment: I want to dedicate this to you, @laminy. I realize that this piece of writing is not really worthy of being dedicated to someone of your talent, but I wanted to do it since it were your stories that got me into writing again after quite some time. ITBASM means so much to me, really, Rami and Joe’s place in London, the flat in Aber, the boys and their cats feel like family, like home to me. I can reread the series a million times and still not be bored, I always cry with them, laugh with them, want to hit them over the head when they’re being stupid. And your snippets are glorious! You manage to answer a range of various prompts and every single one of them is so well-crafted, so full of feelings, I’ve actually turned on the notifications for your blog so I’ll never miss a post. If this is wildly inappropriate, if you don‘t like this one-shot at all, please feel free to ignore it. This is just something I wanted to say (and yes, I totally missed the deadline from the Appreciate the Queen Creators Day...). This blog has like 2 followers but I wanted to get this out here. I hope I can show my appreciation this way, because your writing (and subsequently you?) just mean so much to me. I hope you can somehow enjoy this <3

When Ben’s phone rings he’s on his way to the hospital. The caller ID says Sex on LEGS and he has to bite down on his lower lip not to laugh. It’s what Gwilym described himself as on the app they met on and frankly, he’s not wrong.

“Hey Gwil.”

“Ben”, Gwil just says, his voice is deep and rough, sounding like he just woke up and it sends tingles down Ben’s spine, settling right into his crotch. “Listen, uh, I’m sorry but I won’t be able to make it tonight.”

“Oh.”

That isn’t what Ben has hoped for. He thought Gwil is calling him to set the mood for their, well not date exactly, but their date. He is an expert at driving Ben to edge and leaving him hanging there for the rest of the day until they finally met up in the evening.

“Yeah, I- I’m really sorry, I’ll make it up to you, I promise – ugh”, there’s a rustling of sheets in the background and Gwil groans slightly.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just a cold, Ben, I’m okay, it’s just a bit… not sexy.”

Ben can see him scrunching his nose, frustrated about his inelegant choice of words and has to stifle his laughter again. He also has to hold back on the offer to come over and look after Gwil for a bit.

What they’re having isn’t like that. It’s not a relationship, they’re not dating, it’s just sex for the sake of it. Mind-blowing good sex. The best sex Ben’s ever had. But nothing more. They’re probably not even friends. Ben knows what kind of rope Gwil prefers to use, but not his favorite movie. He knows the size of condoms he needs, but not if he’s still friends with his mates from uni.

Ben made himself swear to not get hung up about it. They even have a contract about the nature of their arrangement that clearly states that, if one should catch feelings for the other, he’s to tell immediately.

But Ben doesn’t have feelings for Gwil. He just likes him in a regular way, only with the bonus that he loves Gwil when he gives Ben orgasms that make him feel like the world is exploding. And he just doesn’t want him to feel bad. Like a normal, decent person does with their acquaintances.

So, no feelings.

“Okay, alright. Then feel better soon. How ‘bout you just text me when you’re better and we can set up a date or something?”, Ben cringes a little, that sounds like he’s talking to some random dude from Ebay that wants to buy his old TV.

“I’ll do that. Have a nice day, Ben.”

“Yeah, you too. See ya!”

He hangs up and fights the urge to bash his phone through his skull. Smooth, Jones, real smooth.

His cancelled date dampens Ben’s mood a bit when he visits one of his mates, who’s fallen down a ladder and managed to crack what seems like all of his ribs. But he’s trying not to let it show, tries to stuff it away and tells himself he’ll just have a cozy night in with a movie and some popcorn.

He’s leaving the hospital again when he spots a familiar figure limping down the street in front of him. It’s a bit embarrassing but no understatement to say that Ben would recognize the shape of this back, the long, slim legs and the warm hazel colored hair just about anywhere.

“Gwil?”, he calls running up to him and only now fully realizing that Gwil is using crutches, has a brace on his left knee and sports a generally disheveled look.

“Gwil!”

It takes Ben standing in front of him for Gwil to finally look up from his task of navigating himself through the busy street.

“Huh- Ben! Wha-What are you doing here?”

“What am I- Jesus, Gwil, why didn’t you tell me you were in the hospital?!”, Ben can’t stop himself from fretting, not with the way Gwilym looks. Angry red scabs are coating the right side of his face, just like his knuckles. The jacket he usually wears for running is torn up. There’s a flush to his face that indicates he really shouldn’t be out on the streets alone with whatever’s in his system.

“Well, I’m not. At the hospital, I mean”, the taller man indicates at the street with one of his crutches as clearly not the hospital, and stumbles forward when his legs don’t quite hold his weight.

Ben immediately steps forward to steady him with a tight grip on his shoulders, whereas Gwil tries for a dopey grin but winces when it painfully pulls at his road rash.

“Oh my god”, Ben mutters to himself. This is not okay, Gwil really shouldn’t be on his own right now. Fuck not caring, fuck this, them, being something akin a business partnership, this is more serious.

“Is someone picking you up?”

“I pointed at a guy and told the nurse he’s my roommate and here to pick me up.”

“And they just believed that? Without seeing you walk out together?”

Gwil shrugs and then hisses.

“She was busy”, he takes a deep breath and seems to sober up a bit. “But I can get home on my own, don’t worry Ben. It’s not long with the tube.”

“I know”, Ben frowns at him, then makes a decision. “I’ll take you home.”

“You don’t need to-“

“Consider it a service to myself, okay? ‘Cause I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight not knowing you made it home in one piece.”

Ben just plows over Gwil, because this aspect of him, this ‘I-don’t-want-to-inconvenience-you’-thing, that he knows and that he can handle.

“Okay.”

Gwil is surprisingly quiet, so Ben doesn’t waste any time and flags down a taxi and carefully maneuvers Gwil into it.

“How did this happen anyway?”, he asks after he’s given Gwil’s address to the driver.

“A cyclist ran me down yesterday morning. Ran a red light and right into me.”

“Shit, mate”, Ben bites his tongue, cursing his sheer stupidity. ‘Shit, mate’? Really? How much of an insensitive prick can one be?

Gwil doesn’t seem to notice his inner struggles, he’s closed his eyes, relaxing against the head rest.

“So, what did the doctors say?”

“That I’ve been lucky, he could’ve pushed me against another car or something. So it’s just scabs and bruises. They might operate on the knee, they wanted to see if it heals on its own first. Apparently, I’m young and fit enough for that to happen. Doesn’t feel like it at the moment”, Gwil scoffs. He’s kept his eyes closed while talking and Ben debates if he should let him sleep.

“Looks like it.”

He leaves it at that. Gwil dozes for the remainder of the drive while Ben keeps a watchful eye on him. It’s different to see him like this, soft and unguarded, for once not in full control of his surroundings.

But Ben doesn’t mind. Sure, having Gwil in control during sex, being able to let himself be completely at his mercy is nice, exhilarating even, but he finds he likes this too. Inside of him flutters the urge to care, to protect, something he would never have associated with Gwil, but it’s there and it nearly burns through the insides of Ben.

The taxi comes to a stop and Gwil startles awake, begins to look for his wallet or phone or anything to pay with, but Ben hands a few bills to the driver and climbs out of the car to help the other man getting out.

“So, ah, thanks for the ride, appreciate it. But please, don’t let me keep you, you were probably busy before you stumbled over me.”

“Actually, I’m not, took a few days off.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence and Ben can see the cogs turning in Gwil’s head as he figures out that Ben took time off to prepare for the evening they had planned and to recuperate from it.

His face turns apologetic and Ben uses his chance to butt in.

“Why don’t I help you settle in? Just get you comfortable with a cup of tea, you look like you need one.”

“I-“, Gwil is surprised by Ben’s sudden resolve and determination. “That’d be nice, thanks.”

Ben knows Gwil’s flat, technically. He’s been inside multiple times; he knows the cracks on the ceiling of his bedroom and the feeling of his sheets. The dark blue towels are familiar to him and he knows that there’s a toothbrush in the mirror cabinet if he wants to use one.

But being in Gwil’s kitchen in daylight, looking for tea and mugs, it’s something else entirely. Somehow it fleshes Gwil more out, makes him more of a person, a real person. Not that he hasn’t been before, but there is a difference between knowing someone as the person that ties you to the bedpost and seeing the person’s collection of destination mugs.

It takes a bit of the mystery away, but Ben really doesn’t mind that. It may paint a whole other picture of Gwil, but he’d be lying if he didn’t find it endearing.

When the tea is done, Ben returns to Gwil who’s sitting on his sofa and looking uncomfortable.

“Here’s your tea. I’m not sure how you like it.”

“Thanks.” His smile is tight and there are some lines around his eyes that betray how much he’s hurting sitting up like this. Before Gwil’s struggle to reach the milk on the coffee table draws out, Ben intervenes.

“Here, let me.”

He adds a splash of milk and hands the tea over to Gwil.

“You know, you really don’t need to do this. I can get by on my own, there’s no reason you should feel obligated to take care of me, I don’t expect this from our relationship”, Gwil says after some quiet minutes where they just sipped their drinks. On second thought he adds: “And I’m not sure if that came up during the negotiation, but I’m not really a fan this playing doctor thing, or up for it, so-“

“Jeez, Gwil, it’s not like that!”, Ben cuts in before Gwil has the chance to make this even more awkward. It hurts bit to know that Gwil sees their relationship just as sex and not more of a personal connection, but Ben deems that his own fault. He wanted sex without the added trouble of a relationship, and he got just that.

“Am I not allowed to be a decent human being and to make sure you’re alright?”, Gwil doesn’t seem convinced at all, so Ben decides, in a moment of some sort of mental blackout obviously, to go all in.

“I like you, okay? As a person with a character and not just with a great dick. And I don’t like the thought of you hurting and being on your own. You’ve taken great care of me these last weeks, I don’t think I’ve thanked you for that, so just let me take care you! Even if it’s in a different way.”

Gwilym says nothing to that. For some minutes that might as well stretch out into hours he just stares as Ben as if he just declared that the earth is flat and is breaking apart. It makes Ben so uncomfortable that he considers to either wave a hand in front of Gwil’s face to make sure he hasn’t checked out mentally or to just leave, this apartment, the city, the country, change his name, grow a beard and work as goat farmer on an isolated island in Greece.

“You do.”

“What?”

“You do thank me. Every time you orgasm. It’s a bit weird, actually.”

Ben blushes, honest to god blushes and the plans for the goat farm seem to be a really good idea.

“I, uh- I’m sorry? I didn’t know that. I just… yeah.”

“It’s sweet. And I’m sorry if I offended you, it’s just- I’ve been doing this a while now and the anonymity of the app lets some people forget their manners. Or decency. It’s…”, he sighs, and Ben can feel it in every inch of his body. “It’s generally safer not to expect anything. I’m beginning to think I might be the wrong person for ‘just sex’ after all.”

Okay, no. Ben’s gotta put a stop to this, it’s not fair to the both of them. They need to have this talk when they’re both in full possession of their mental capabilities and not doped up and/or in pain.

“Hey, we don’t need to talk about this right now. How about I’ll help you out of these clothes and into something more comfortable so you can rest?”

Gwil is soft and pliable, which makes changing his clothes easy, although his pants are a bit tricky. Ben needs to remove the brace, get the tight running pants off, the brace back on and only then he can stick Gwil’s ridiculously long legs into a pair of soft pyjama pants.

“You’re good at this”, Gwil remarks once they’re done in the bathroom and hobbling to his bedroom. He’s panting and a drop of sweat makes it slowly down his temple.

“I was training to be a nurse.”

Ben grunts a little when Gwil has to lean almost his whole on Ben in order to lower himself down on his bed.

“Why did you stop?”

“I couldn’t draw the line between the person and the patient”, Ben shrugs and rearranges Gwil’s pillows for him to lay down comfortably. “It was so hard to draw blood from kids. Even harder when someone didn’t make it. I loved it but I figured my job shouldn’t leave me crying almost every night.”

“Mhh”, Gwil hums, his eyes already closed when Ben covers him with the blanket. “Thanks, Ben.”

“Get some rest, Gwil.”

Upon waking, Gwil isn’t too sure of his surroundings. He’s in his own bed, yes, but there are noises outside, some clanking and a rushing. It takes some time until he realizes it’s someone in his kitchen making tea. But-

Ben.

Oh shit.

Oh no.

Gwil shoots up and doubles over immediately when his body screams at him in pain by the sudden movement. His groan is guttural, but that’s not even on the forefront of his mind, there’s Ben. Ben, who stumbled over him at the hospital, took him home and put him to bed. Ben, who, apparently, is currently in his kitchen making tea.

This is not okay, far from it, really. This goes against everything they agreed upon in their contract.

“You’re up!”

“Ben!”

The blonde needs only a second before he knows what’s going on.

“When I made the tea, I noticed your cupboards were pretty empty, so I went out to get some groceries. Just the essentials”, he holds up his hands, well, the one hand not holding a mug.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

“I know”, Ben sits down on his bed and looks at Gwil, a steely resolve in his eyes that Gwil hasn’t seen before, “But a thank you should be enough to make up for it.”

“Thank you.”

It’s more of a mechanic response, because what Gwil actually wants to do is insisting that he’s fine, that Ben really didn’t need to get him groceries, that he can get by on his own. But Ben seems to have another idea.

“Listen, I know what you want to say. Me being here with you like this is violating the contract and not the nature of our agreement. But I don’t fucking care. If me taking care of you means we can’t have sex anymore, fine. Well, not fine, obviously, but okay, I’ll take it. There’s nothing that could make me just leave you alone like this. If you’ll have me, of course.”

“I…”

Gwil is not sure what to say. Ben just said a lot of words and his sleep- and pain-addled brain is a bit slow on the uptake.

“Is there anyone you could call? Who’d come over for bit?”, Ben asks softly.

“No, not really”, Gwil doesn’t know why he’s ashamed of that but he can’t bring himself to meet Ben’s eyes. “My family doesn’t live here, and my friends, I don’t really- I wouldn’t want-“

“To bother them? You’re a moron, Gwilym Lee”, despite his words, Ben smiles at him. He reaches up and brushes a strand of hair out Gwil’s face. He can’t help but lean into the soft touch.

“Are you okay with me staying here with you?”

“Yes.”

And he really is, much to his own surprise. He likes Ben like this. In a soft sweater, with a mug in his hands. He might like him like this even more than he likes him naked.

“Do you want some painkillers?”

“Yes, please.”

Ben places the mug on the bedside table and opens the drawer to pull out a bottle of pills. He smirks at Gwil.

“I might not know how where you keep your sugar, but I do know where your painkillers are. And I’m okay with learning that other stuff.”

#harlee #ben hardy #gwilym lee #borhap cast #hurt/comfort #appreciation post #painkillers #accident

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just-my-sickly-pride · 5 years ago

Text

Debut || Roger Taylor x fem!Reader

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

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

word count || about 17.7k.

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

masterlist

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

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

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

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

And now here you are.

On your way to a strange man’s house.

To lose your virginity to him.

Because he’s paid for it.

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

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

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

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

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

You close the door behind you.

The Uber drives off.

And you’re alone on the sidewalk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you say. “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug helplessly.

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

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

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

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

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

“An adult?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, about nine.”

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

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

Great. Real smooth.

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

“Uh, no,” you say. “Uber.”

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

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

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

“Sorry,” you say again.

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

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

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

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

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

You hesitate. “Um–”

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

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

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

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

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

You slip past him. He smells good.

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

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

“Sorry,” he says.

“No, don’t worry about it,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you wouldn’t mind,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You take a sip.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. And living out of home, so.”

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

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

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

“It is?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure,” you say, drawling sarcastically.

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

“I believe you,” you say lightly.

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

“So it’s been said.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right,” Roger says mildly, nodding.

You narrow your eyes at him. “What?”

“Nothing, I didn’t say anything.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, you think so?”

“Yeah,” Roger says noncommittally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s good of them.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice?” Roger says.

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

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

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

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

“Have you tried?”

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

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

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

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

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

“And you’ve struck out?” you ask.

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

“Too soon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You going to answer it?”

“In a minute.”

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

Your hands slide back up your thighs.

He swallows.

You smile.

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

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

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

Your phone buzzes.

You ignore it.

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

Roger’s face goes slack. “Uh–”

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

“Never quite–?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s descriptive,” you murmur sarcastically.

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

“A demonstration would be nice.”

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

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

You blink. “Part of the…?”

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

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

“I’m sorry,” Roger says.

You lower your hands. “For what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

so hes hot?

are you on ur way home now?

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

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

So you send a thumbs-up.

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

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

“Don’t,” Roger says.

You pause. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t order the Uber.”

Your stomach bubbles. “Wh– No?”

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

“Why would you be?” you respond automatically.

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” Roger repeats, a touch playfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, it’s fine,” you giggle.

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

You hesitate.

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

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

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

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

Roger chuckles, his eyes sparkling.

“It’s [Y/N],” you add.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roger laughs.

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

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

Roger frowns. “What’s stupid?”

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

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

You huff. “You’re not.”

“Then what–”

“Kiss me,” you cut in.

Roger stops. “Kiss you?”

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

Roger hesitates.

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

“No, I – I do,” he says. “I just…”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope.”

“And you’re in my house.”

“Yep.”

“And I’m so much older than you.”

“That’s right.”

“And you’re…”

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

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

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

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

Roger moans in response. “Jesus Christ.”

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

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

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

He nods, swallowing.

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

Roger takes a shaky breath. “Are you–”

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

Roger smiles, laughing breathlessly. “Bloody hell.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Months. Lost count. Ah, fuck.”

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

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

You shiver. “I’m sure you will.”

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

You nod. “Yeah.”

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

You nod. “I know, I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, I know, I’m old,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roger switches on the light.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did I do something wrong?” you ask.

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

“Oh,” you say, smiling in relief.

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

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

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

“Sure,” you say mock-condescendingly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can feel Roger smile against your skin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could say the same,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not yet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roger moans, and you jerk at the sensation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You open your mouth wider.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roger shudders. “Jesus.”

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

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

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

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

He turns to you. “Show you what?”

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

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

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

Roger raises his eyebrows. “You what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that all for me, love?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod vigorously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“[Y/N].”

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

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

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

Roger smiles. “You’re amazing.”

You turn your head away, overwhelmed.

“Eyes on me. Hey.”

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

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

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

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

You whine. “Roger.”

“That’s it, love. Say my name.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You close?” Roger asks, and you nod.

“Say it out loud, love.”

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

“Open your eyes, come on.”

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

“You gonna come for me?”

“Y-yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” Roger reiterates.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a natural.”

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

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

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

“No, no, I’m fine,” you say lightly, shaking your head. “I was just moving around.”

Roger pauses, and then says, “All right.” He kisses you, and then takes a moment to gather his energy before he sits up. “I’ll get us some water.” He turns to you, pointing a finger at you, as if something just occurred to him. “You should go pee.”

Your eyes widen, and you nod. “Oh, yes, good thinking.”

“Bathroom’s just there,” he says, gesturing across the room at the closed door.

“You have an en suite?”

“Well, yeah. Much easier when there’s kids around.” His face falls a little. “Not that I’ve had the kids here very often recently, but uh…”

“I’m sorry,” you say.

He shakes his head. “Sorry. It’s fine. Great way to bring down the mood, eh?” He leans down again to kiss you, and then stands up, stretching. “Be back in a mo’.”

You watch him, your gaze hawk-like, as he pulls on his neon-green underwear and disappears out the door, raking his hand through his hair as he goes.

Your thighs clench together again, and you whimper.

You try to push it aside, and slide off the bed to go the bathroom, pulling on your underwear as you go. You don’t exactly feel like putting your push-up bra back on, but you don’t want to just lounge around completely naked. Would it be too presumptuous to put on Roger’s shirt?

You bite your lip, considering, and then decide to just bite the bullet, slipping it on and buttoning it up. It’s comfy, and smells like him; you understand why women in movies do it now. You do have to call bullshit on wearing a man’s shirt like a short, cute dress though – it’s more just like a long shirt, and you’re glad you’ve chosen to put on underwear.

It feels odd to pee in a stranger’s house – even odder that it’s an en suite – but you’re thankful that you get a moment to properly gather yourself in private, instead of while being surrounded by the smell of sex.

It’s when you’re washing your hands that you finally get a look at yourself in the mirror. Your mouth drops open in horror.

You look like a fucking mess. Your foundation is patchy where you get oily and where you’ve sweated it off, and there’s a slight ring of smudged mascara under your eyes – honestly, you’re thankful that it’s not worse, and that your setting spray did at least something. Your hair, though, is the worst of it all. You look like you’ve been dragged through a bush backwards.

“Oh, shit,” you whisper to yourself. What can you do? You don’t have any make-up with you to try to fix the problems, but you can’t exactly take it off, either. You have no way to fix your hair. You untie it from the ponytail it was in and try to smooth it out, but it doesn’t really do much, so you tie it back up again, but it’s a shitty ponytail, so you untie it and try again. Then you try a third time, and give up, settling on the disaster that it is, and grab a tissue, blotting at your make-up.

You sigh, staring at your reflection. Well, fuck. What the fuck are you meant to do? How the hell can you go back into the bedroom, knowing you look like this?

“[Y/N]?” Roger calls. “You all right in there, love?”

You shiver. God, the way he says the word ‘love’. The way he says your name.

You clear your throat. “Um, yeah, I’m– I’m fine. Just…” You can’t say you’re still peeing. Oh, fuck, what if he thinks you’re taking a shit or something? “I’m just fixing up my make-up.”

“I think there might still be some make-up wipes in a drawer somewhere, if you want to have a look,” Roger says. “Maybe they’re no good anymore, I’m not sure.”

You have a dig around, and find a packet. It’s already been opened, quite a while ago by the looks of it. Must be Roger’s ex-wife’s.

The thought of that sits weirdly with you, but you’re not quite sure why. Almost like you feel like you’re intruding, maybe. You certainly don’t feel like you belong here, in this bougie, nice house.

You sigh again, and pull out a handful of make-up wipes, seeing if there’s any that still hold any moisture. One in the middle has a little bit, so you carefully run it under your eyes, and lightly tap it over your forehead and down your neck to soothe your skin, fixing up any problem areas as best you can without it being too obvious that you’ve just wiped off the make-up.

The end result is fine. Not good, and certainly not great, but… yeah. Fine.

You throw the make-up wipes into the bin, take a deep breath, and exit the bathroom.

Roger’s on his phone, and he looks up when he hears the door open. His face goes slack when he sees you. “You’re wearing my shirt?”

“Isn’t that what girls are meant to do after sex?” you joke.

“I just haven’t seen, um, anyone do that in… in a long time,” he says, somewhat stilted, and he glances down at his hands. He quickly turns his eyes back to you. “It looks good. Really good.”

“Thank you,” you say, and pad over to the bedside table near him, where he has two glasses of water waiting. “Which one’s mine?”

“On the left.” Roger sets his phone down and watches you as you take a sip of water.

He’s close to you, and, like before you kissed for the first time, you’re hyperaware of every movement. But he barely moves, just waits for you.

When you put the water down, you hesitate. You want to climb on top of him, kiss him, feeling his arms around you again, but is that too much? Does he want you to go? Are you overstaying your welcome?

“You all right?” he asks gently.

You nod. “Um, yeah,” you say, and take a step back. “You probably, um, have work or something tomorrow, so I should go.”

You don’t miss the way Roger’s face falls a bit. “Oh, you want to go?”

No. “Well, it– I don’t want to impose…”

“If you want to go, then I’ll order an Uber for you,” Roger says. “But don’t feel like you have to go if you don’t want to.”

The Amazonian butterflies are back yet again. “I…”

“Because – and correct me if I’m wrong,” Roger says, reaching out and tugging on his shirt, pulling you closer, and you go without any resistance, “but I think you were telling a bit of a fib before, when you said you were… what did you say? Just moving around?”

You press your lips together as Roger guides you between his legs, and he tilts his head back to gaze up at you. He smiles at the look on your face. “Am I right?”

You can feel your face heating up again. “No,” you mumble unconvincingly, hiding your smile behind your hand.

“No hands over mouths,” Roger murmurs, reaching up and taking yours. “You don’t have to hide.”

Fuck. Oh, fuck. His voice sounds like a warm fireplace feels, and you barely even know him, but you’ve never felt safer, more comfortable, around a man. You can’t pretend now – you’re really starting to like him.

Roger raises his eyebrows at you, just a touch, searching your face. “So? Am I right?”

“It’s fine,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m fine, really. You’ve done plenty, I… I can’t ask for more.”

Roger hums, and presses a kiss to your palm before letting your hand go. “All right, okay,” he says. “I was wrong, I see. Can I at least tell you what I’d do to you if I had been right?”

You breathe in shakily, and nod once.

The corner of Roger’s mouth quirks up. “Well,” he says slowly, “first I’d kiss you, of course. And, as hot as you look wearing nothing but my shirt and your knickers, I’d undress you again. Get you lying down on your back, all spread out for me. I’d kiss you some more. Then I think I’d choke you, because you seem to like that a lot, yeah?”

You nod, hypnotised.

Roger nods as well. “Right. And then, while I was holding you down by your throat–”

You gulp.

“–I’d get my other hand, and I’d–”

“Okay, yes, you were right,” you blurt out, and grab his face, ducking down to kiss him desperately. He kisses you with just as much hunger, and nudges you a few steps back, giving him enough room so he can stand up and start unbuttoning the shirt. As soon as he’s done, your shrug it from your shoulders, and Roger pulls you closer by your ass. One hand moves to cup your jaw, his tongue pressing against yours. It doesn’t take long before the hand shifts to your throat, and you whimper softly, urging him to tighten his grip.

He does, and the feeling of it goes straight to your core. Your hands clutch at him frantically.

He lets go of your throat, and you suck in a gasp, then latch onto his neck, kissing and nipping and sucking at his skin, licking off the salty traces of sweat.

“Careful, love, careful,” he says shakily. “I can’t turn up to work looking like I’ve been attacked by a vacuum.”

You huff, but soften your kisses. He moans under his breath, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard anything hotter.

Soon, you break away, and crawl back onto the bed, and he follows you, positioning himself on all fours above you to kiss you deeply, his knee slotting into between your thighs. He presses it against your core, and you instinctively grind against it, shuddering when it fires an electric shock of arousal through your system. Roger shifts, readjusting his balance so he can bring his hand back to your throat, and you welcome it. You grind against his leg again.

It’s when you have to stop kissing him, your brain going into overdrive trying to force you to focus on breathing, you have to breathe, that Roger sits back, moving his leg out of the way and replacing it with his other hand.

“Fuck, Roger,” you gasp, twitching under his grip, your hands vice-like on his forearm. Your eyes slide closed, revelling in the way your head swims, the way your body fights to suck as much oxygen as it can into your lungs. You’re still so wet from before, still so stretched out, that Roger slides two fingers into you at the same time with ease, and you let out a stuttering moan, bucking your hips into his hand. His fingers swirl around your clit, hitting it in just the right way, and within minutes you’re almost there.

“Most people think the best part about getting choked is the actual ‘getting choked’ part,” Roger says out of the blue, and you frown, trying to follow, opening your eyes.

“Hear me out,” Roger says casually, pushing his fingers back into you and flicking your clit with his thumb, and you whine. “Are you close, love?”

You nod.

Roger hums. “You look so good like this. Does it feel good?”

You nod again. “Mm-hm.”

“Yeah, looks like it does. Looks like you enjoy it.”

“Ah, Roger, please.”

“It’s all right, love, I’ve got you.” Roger’s fingers quicken their pace, and you make a sound, squirming.

“As I was saying,” Roger continues, “people think the best part of getting choked is actually getting choked. But it’s not. The best part of it is actually being let go. Do you want to see?”

You nod, barely even listening to what he’s saying. You’re too close to coming to pay attention.

And then Roger lets go of your throat at the same time he brushes your clit, and a rush of oxygen flows into your lungs, a rush of blood flows back to your head, and your orgasm slams into you, and the world seems so much brighter in that moment. “Oh, fuck, fuck,” you gasp, your back arching, your eyes wide.

It feels like it goes on for a lifetime, although perhaps that’s just your mind trying to sort itself out. When you do finally start to come down from your high, you realise you’re shaking, and Roger is grinning at you. You blink at him owlishly.

“Wh– Huh?” you breathe, your heart racing, and Roger laughs.

“So you’re alive, then,” he teases, and leans down to kiss you.

You grab onto him, kissing him soundly, and roll the both of you over, so you’re straddling him. You just stay like that, just making out, letting the frenzied kisses lull themselves into something slower, something calmer. Just kissing for the sake of it. Roger’s hands stroke up and down your back, and you could almost fall asleep like this.

Speaking of falling asleep – you have to break away, hiding your yawn by tucking your face into his chest. Roger hums, and you can feel it vibrating against your body. You smile. “Sorry,” you mumble.

“Can hardly blame you,” Roger says, his voice low. “It’s late.”

You let yourself slump against him, a moment of pure self-indulgence, and then roll to the side, dumping yourself onto the bed. You groan, unable to stop yourself from instinctively shifting into a more comfortable position for sleeping, your arm beneath your head like a pillow, your eyes closing.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, muffled by your arm. “I’ll leave in a minute.”

Roger says nothing, and you feel your stomach coil in guilt. God, he wanted you to leave fifteen minutes ago, didn’t he? He was just too polite to say anything. And then you pressured him into making you come again, because you were too selfish to know when enough was enough. Great, fucking great, you’ve fucked it all up, and you’re a huge piece of shit, and you–

“Did you want to stay the night?” Roger asks tentatively.

Your eyes fly open, and you shift up onto your elbow. “What?” you say. “Stay?”

Roger glances away from you. “It– It was just a suggestion,” he says. “Just an idea, I don’t know. I, um – it’s just late, and I don’t want you travelling all that way on your own. You can, obviously, if you want to, that’s up to you, I just…”

You’re hardly even listening. You’re still struggling to drink in the first thing he said. “You want me to stay?” you ask.

Roger looks to you, and bites his bottom lip. “If– Well, if you want to, then, um, yes, I’d like you to. But only if you want to.”

You beam, and your heart triples in size. “Um, yes. I’d like to.”

Roger smiles back. “Good. Great. That’s–” He clears his throat. “Did you want to have a shower?”

“I think so,” you say with a laugh. “I’m…” You went to say I’m so disgusting right now, but you don’t want to fuck up your now-sleepover before it’s even properly begun. “Yes please.”

“Well, you know where the bathroom is,” Roger says, nodding towards the en suite. “There’s a spare toothbrush in the drawer, if I remember correctly. I’ll get you a towel.”

“You’re not coming into the shower with me?” you ask coyly.

Roger blinks, and you laugh.

“Oh,” he says. “You were joking.”

“I wasn’t,” you say. “You just made me laugh.”

Roger swoops down to steal a kiss, and you don’t let him leave, pushing up into him, stealing a few kisses back.

“Let me get you a towel,” he says, and then climbs off the bed and pads out of the room.

You bite on your finger to stop yourself from making some stupid giggle, or maybe a dumb squealing sound like a little girl. He asked you to stay the night. He wants you to stay the night.

Oh, shit, you realise, your finger dropping from your mouth. Justine. You never told her what was happening.

Where’s your phone? In the living room. Spitting out a curse, you pull on your underwear and Roger’s shirt again, and hurry out. You run into Roger, arms full of sheets, in the hallway. “Hey, is everything all right?” he says. “What did you forget?”

“I never told my roommate I wasn’t coming home,” you say. “Last she heard, I was about to book an Uber.”

Roger’s eyes go a little wider. “Shit, whoops. Yeah, go tell her.”

You shoot him a smile, and scurry off to the living room. Your phone is on the couch, and you snatch it up. Wow, shit, it is late. You’re glad you only have an afternoon lecture tomorrow.

Thankfully, just one message from Justine, from about half an hour ago. hey, haven’t heard from u in a while. just send me a message when u get this ok? xx

You respond. fuck sorry, left my phone in the other room. I have SO MUCH to tell u omg, but in a nutshell uhh we ended up sleeping together, it was fucking amazing, and now he’s asked me to stay over, so ill see u at uni tomorrow maybe? if not then at home xx

You keep your phone in hand, and head back to Roger’s room. He’s started cleaning up in the minute you were gone, stripping the bed. Fresh sheets sit on the floor. “What’s this?” you ask.

“I’m making the bed,” Roger says simply, tugging a pillow from its case. “I’m too old to be sleeping on sheets I’ve just had sex on. Let me tell you, it makes a difference. And the sheets were due for a change, anyway.”

You step forward. “Well, let me help.”

“Don’t be silly, jump in the shower.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You set your phone down beside his on the bedside table, and together the two of you help remake his bed.

Roger chases you into the shower then, and says he’s going to tidy up the room a little more before he joins you. “I’m on a roll now,” he says, picking up your shoes from where you kicked them aside during the bed-making. “Can’t stop, won’t stop.”

You take the make-up wipes. The door is about halfway open, and you can hear Roger moving around, hear when he trips over something and hisses out a curse, making you smile.

The make-up wipe freezes in the air near your eye. You can’t very well have a shower and go to bed without taking your make-up off – it does not make even a vague semblance of a pretty picture – but this is… way more intimate than you were expecting. Why didn’t you think of this when you agreed to stay over? Roger’s going to see you without your make-up on, with your hair tied up in a bun. He’s going to see you in the morning, all bleary-eyed and disgusting. Fuck, morning breath. You have the spare clothes you brought that you can change into tomorrow, but no extra underwear. Nothing to wear tonight. It’s a miracle that Roger even has a spare toothbrush. What time does he get up for work? Will he expect you to leave before he wakes up?

Are you a one-night-stand? Is that what this is? Are you asked to stay the night if you’re nothing but a one-night-stand, or does the fact that he asked you mean something else?

“Is your roommate all right?” Roger asks, coming to the door, leaning against the doorjamb. “No freak-outs?”

You lower the make-up wipe. “Um, no. It’s all fine, I think.”

“Have you found the toothbrush?”

“No, I haven’t checked yet.”

Roger moves around you, pulling open the drawer and rummaging through. “Ah, here it is. Still in the packet! How good am I?”

You smile as he presents it to you like it’s a medal of honour. “Thanks.”

“Sorry about the make-up wipes,” Roger says. “They’re not great.” He huffs, and then leans against the edge of the sink, rubbing his hands down his face. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m… I’m actually really nervous.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Nervous?” you repeat. “About what?”

“About… you staying over,” he confesses. “It’s been, I don’t know, ten years since I’ve had anyone new sleep over. My brain is suddenly filled with every annoying thing I do when I sleep. And I look awful in the mornings, let me tell you. If you think I look bad now, just you wait.”

“Who says I think you look bad now?” you say. “I thought I made it perfectly clear that I think you’re a hot piece of ass, Roger.”

Roger splutters, flustered, and you grin.

“I move around a lot,” he says. “When I sleep. So be prepared to cop an elbow to the face.”

“Don’t you worry, I’m a heavy sleeper,” you say. “And I move around, too.”

“I run hot,” Roger adds. “I’m like a space heater. And sometimes I talk in my sleep, but only when I’m really stressed about something, like work. I can be really very clingy.”

“I run cold,” you say with a shrug. “So clingy suits me fine.”

Roger pauses, staring at you, like he wasn’t expecting an answer like that. Then he snaps out of it, glancing away. “Sorry,” he says for a third time.

“Don’t apologise,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t have to. I’m nervous, too. Like, really fucking nervous. I’m– I’m too nervous to even take my make-up off.”

Roger’s eyes search your face. “I won’t care what you look like,” he says gently. “I’m sorry that you feel nervous about taking it off. But it won’t matter, I promise.”

“Just wait and see,” you joke in a sing-song voice.

Roger is silent for a few moments, and then he says, “Well, I hope you’re ready. I’m going to kiss the bloody daylight out of you when you take it off.”

You don’t know how to respond. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I’m going to. I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t feel uncomfortable without make-up on. And if that means I have to keep kissing you all night as a reminder that it doesn’t matter what you look like without make-up, then that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

You duck your head, making a disgruntled sound. Why does he have to say cute shit like that? Why must he make you suffer?

Roger pushes the packet of make-up wipes a little closer to you, waggles his eyebrows at you, making you giggle, and then reaches across you for his toothbrush.

You start wiping off your make-up.

Roger waits until you’ve finished taking it off, until you’ve brushed your teeth, until you’re well and truly left without anything to do, and then he cups your face in his hands and does exactly what he promised he’d do.

One steamy make-out session and one far-too-long shower later, you’re sitting on the newly-made bed, wrapping in a towel, the strands of hair that slipped loose from your bun sticking to your neck and temples. You’re watching Roger pull on a pair of underwear and rifle through his chest of drawers. He pulls out a huge shirt, clearly worn and well-loved, and turns to you, holding it out. “I went on a day trip once to Brighton,” he says. “We were out to a pub and I spilled red wine all over my shirt. Had to buy a new one. Sent one of my mates to get it for me and he came back with this. Hence why I have a shirt about five sizes too big for me.”

“You didn’t have to explain,” you say with a chuckle, taking it from him.

“I feel like I did,” Roger says. “I, um, usually use it as a sleep shirt when I travel.”

You slip it on, and then stand up, letting your towel drop to the floor. The shirt is long enough to cover everything, but you’re not about to bend down any time soon.

You glance over at your underwear, where they’re in a pile near the door. Should you put them back on?

“Please don’t,” Roger blurts.

You look to him. “Huh?”

His face goes red. “Um. I just– I– You– I saw you look over there, and–” He rubs his hand along his jaw. “I, um…” He looks to the ceiling, and says it in a rush. “I’m sorry this sounds awful but I saw you looking over at your knickers and I don’t want you to put them on because you look really hot wearing my shirt and the thought of you wearing nothing underneath makes my brain explode.”

“You’re one to talk,” you say, “standing in front of me in nothing but a pair of boxers like that doesn’t make my brain explode.”

Roger’s eyes flick towards yours, and he breaks out into a smile, and then laughs. “I guess we’re even, then.”

“We’ll be truly even when I see you wearing my clothes,” you say teasingly.

Roger steps in close, his hands coming to your waist. “I don’t think your dress would fit properly, love.”

“I’ll have to come better prepared next time,” you say, and Roger hums, leaning in to give you a kiss.

Next time. Next time. You said ‘next time’. Talk about presumptuous. Christ! What is wrong with you?

You break away. “Not that I think there’ll be a next time,” you say quickly. No. Bad phrasing. “I don’t want to assume there’ll be a next time.” Still bad. “I don’t want you to think that I think there has to be a next time.” Even worse. “I don’t want you to feel obliged to have a next time if you don’t want there to be.” Better. Not great, but passable.

“I want a next time,” Roger says. “If you want one.”

“I do,” you say, God, far too eager. “I’d really like there to be a next time.”

“Me too,” Roger says.

You press into him for another kiss, and then, finally, the two of you make it to bed.

Once you’re under the covers, you almost fall asleep immediately. You didn’t realise how exhausted you are. Roger reaches over and switches off the light, and then wraps an arm around your stomach, his front against your spine. You allow yourself to smile freely in the dark, even as your eyes close and you drift off to sleep.

~~~

“I’m… I’m going to send you the rest of the payment,” Roger says. He’s dressed for work, just in a white dress shirt and black slacks, and you’d been admiring him and enjoying the coffee he’d made you after you’d gotten out of the shower. It’s early – too early, for both of you.

But now your stomach drops, and you lower your mug of coffee from your lips. “You are?”

“Yes,” Roger says.

“You don’t have to,” you say. “I said it last night, I don’t care about the money.”

“I know,” Roger says. “But it’s still right. You started this whole thing to help pay the bills, and it’s not your fault that there was that whole mix-up. You don’t deserve to miss out on getting the money you’ve rightfully earned.”

“You don’t deserve to fork out that much money because of that whole mix-up,” you say. “You’ve already paid half of it. And it’s– it’s quite a fair bit, Roger.”

“I can afford to pay it,” Roger says. “I’m living more than comfortably. Giving you the money you’ve earned would just mean that I can’t, I don’t know, travel overseas this year.” He raises his eyebrows a touch. “Well, now that I might not have to be paying for three kids as well, maybe I’ll still be able to afford to go.” He shakes his head. “That’s beside the… My point is, I can afford it. And you deserve it.”

You don’t know what to say. “Roger…”

“Just let me,” he says earnestly. “Please. I want to.”

You open and close your mouth a few times. God, you’d be mad to turn down the money. But it doesn’t feel right. Does it? You don’t even know what to think.

You glance down at your mug. “All right,” you say quietly, so much so that you’re not even sure if he can hear you. But you can’t bring yourself to speak any louder. “Thank you, Roger.”

“Hey.”

You look up at him, and he smiles. “You can pay me back by letting me take you out to dinner.”

Your face immediately grows hot. “Suave motherfucker,” you say, and he laughs.

“I still have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he says playfully.

Your stomach squeezes. “Sure,” you say. “But I’m paying.”

Roger snorts. “Not bloody likely.”

“I’ll fight you for the cheque, don’t think I won’t.”

“Maybe I’ll just sneakily pay for it before you’ve even realised.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Can we settle on going Dutch?”

Roger sips his coffee. “All right,” he says eventually.

“Good.”

He takes out his phone, holding it out to you. “Text me some time during this week,” he says. “About where you want to go. Or just text me if you want to say hi. Or call me. Y’know, whatever.”

You tilt your head to the side as you take his phone. “That wasn’t quite as suave, I have admit.”

Roger sighs. “Damn.”

You laugh, and send a quick text to yourself, then slide the phone back to him.

He seems extremely pleased, but he takes a casual drink from his coffee like he’s trying to hide it, and you can’t help but think it’s horribly cute.

He shoots a glance at you, and sees you grinning at him, and his cheeks turn pink, and he clears his throat, turning away to the sink to rinse his mug out.

~~~

You’re at uni, half-asleep, shuffling back to the bus stop after your never-ending lecture, when Justine barrels into you, grabbing your elbow so tightly that you yelp. “What the fuck happened last night?” she exclaims.

You don’t know why it hadn’t been awkward this morning. Apart from the money conversation. There had still been some nervousness, on your part anyway, but Roger had been too focused on getting ready for work to let any uncomfortable silences hang. You have to admit that it had been nice to wake up with someone’s arm around you, and you had been quietly delighted to see Roger fussing over the faint bruises on his neck, pulling up his shirt collar and adjusting his tie to try to cover them. After you’d both gotten ready for the day, he’d dropped you at the nearest bus stop. “And I will text you,” he’d said seriously. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“Good,” you’d said. “I’ll be waiting for it. Three days is the general rule, right?”

Roger had groaned. “Don’t make me wait three days.”

You had chuckled. “I’m not making you do anything.” You’d hesitated, and then said, “Is it weird if I kiss you before I go?”

Roger had taken a breath. “I… wouldn’t say so, no.”

So you’d leant in and kissed him, and he’d kissed you back, and you’d wanted to keep kissing him, but a car had pulled up behind you and honked, so you’d drawn back, whispered, “Bye,” and gotten out of the car.

Once you’d figured out how to get home, you’d crashed, sleeping until your alarm had woken you up again for your lecture.

“Stuff,” you say to Justine.

“Stuff?” Justine squawks. “Don’t give me that shit. You have to tell me literally everything, or I’m going to kill you. Come on.” She loops her arm through yours, and starts towing you towards the bus stop.

Your phone buzzes, and you pull it out of your pocket.

I know it hasn’t been three days, but it’s been more than three hours. Is that enough time, do you think?

You smile, reply, I think so, yeah, then quickly pocket the phone before Justine can sneak a glance as Amazonian butterflies flutter around in your stomach.

#queen fanfiction #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #rpf #mine #smut

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