#jesus christ if you read some of the messages i get from clients on a daily calling me names and slurs

[espurrsso]

if you think that messaging customer support is free real estate to be abusive and awful, just know that in my mind i'm fantasizing about your downfall

[jakeysfallingsky]

Among the Wildflowers - Chapter 3 - Jake Kiszka x Reader

Hi hi! Back again with another chapter. This one is a fun one. Most of Chapter 4 is already written, hoping to be back Thursday with another update :) let me know what you think!

18+ Content - Minors, do not interact.

Summary: You're a hairstylist in Nashville, and the boys in Greta Van Fleet become your clients when they relocate to the city. They quickly all take a liking to you, one sweet guitarist especially. Jake is patient in his pursuit of you, but will your self-created set of rules hold you back from ever being anything more with him?

Word Count: 6900+

Warnings: Graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, choking, etc. Mentions of alcohol.

•

•

After leaving Jake’s house on Sunday, you went home and got ready for the week - laundry, grocery shopping, and cleaning, the whole nine yards. Exhausted after the weekend’s excitement and all of your chores, you ran yourself a bath and paired a glass of wine to go with the book you were reading.

Just as you sank down into the hot bubbles with the wine and book nearby, your phone buzzed. You glanced at your phone to see it was a text from Jake. Opening your messages, you see it was actually a selfie. He had attempted to put his hair half up like you had for him the night before, but his efforts certainly didn’t have the same effect. You smile at how cute he is.

Jake: Trying my best. What do you think?

You: A for effort. You coming for my job or something, Kiszka?

Jake: Obviously.

Jake: Just kidding. I’m cooking and needed it out of the way. What are you up to tonight? 

You smirk as an idea pops into your head, thinking that Jake might be really interested in what you’re currently doing.

Pushing the bubbles around yourself, you bend one leg so it’s slightly out of the water. You angle your phone camera so the whole bathtub is captured with the entirety of your bare thigh exposed, nearly up to your hip. You send the playful photo to Jake, figuring he wouldn’t mind.

You: I’m in here, wishing I had some company right now 

Jake: You’re actually going to be the death of me

Jake: And I’m supposed to keep my hands off of you until Friday? God

You giggle at his reply. 

You: Patience, baby

Jake: Yeah, no

You: :) 

You chuckle and set your phone down, picking up the wine and your book and diving in. The bubbles are long gone and the water is lukewarm at best when you finally decide to get out of the tub and get ready for bed. You run through your evening routine and settle into your comfy bed when you check your phone again to see another message from Jake.

Jake: Jokes aside, you’re probably heading off to bed soon and I wanted to wish you goodnight and sweet dreams. This weekend was one of the best I’ve had in a long while, thanks to you. I’m really looking forward to spending time with you next weekend, sweetheart. 

Jake: P.S. you’re a really good kisser. I hope we can fit making out once or twice into our packed agenda of eating dinner on the couch and watching movies.

You snort before replying to him. 

You: Thank you for everything this weekend. I had the best time. And I think we can squeeze that and maybe a few other things into the Friday itinerary. Goodnight Jake, sweet dreams.

Tossing your phone to the side once the message is sent, you quickly drift off to sleep.

Jake opens the last message from you and chuckles. He locks his phone and rolls onto his side to get comfortable. He notices the pillow you slept on still faintly smells of you, and he smiles to himself as he takes it into his arms to cuddle it. He falls asleep just as quickly as you do. 

•

•

The week flies by, you were incredibly busy at work, and before you know it, it’s Thursday evening. You and Jake had been texting all week long, and you couldn’t wait to see him so soon.

Jake was nervously pacing in his living room, Josh watching him from the couch while he tried to watch a movie.

“Can you sit down? Jesus Christ. You picked this and you aren’t even watching.” Josh grumbled.

Jake sighed. “I don’t know what to make for dinner tomorrow.”

Josh eyed his twin. “That’s what has you worked up right now? Your menu? Make homemade pizzas and get the wine you know she likes and call it good.”

Jake nods and continues pacing, deep in thought. “See, I already thought of that. But I’m really good at cooking and could do something way more impressive. But I don’t really know what she likes. And what if I mess it up or she doesn’t like-“

Josh stood and yanked Jake to the couch. “Breathe. You’re overthinking this. Make the damn pizza.”

Jake glares at Josh and he continues. “It’s not about the food, you could honestly probably feed her takeout from McDonald’s and she would still be just as happy. It’s about spending time with you.”

“Okay. You have a point. I just want things to be perfect because she’s so perfect and so far out of my league.” Jake finishes with a sigh and rubs his chin. 

Josh’s eyes don’t move from the TV screen as he replies. “I think you should stop worrying. I know it’s hard. But she really likes you. Just let things happen.”

Jake glanced at his brother and huffed before pulling out his phone to make his grocery list for the next day.

Meanwhile, you were at home packing your bag for tomorrow. Eyeing your lingerie sets, you run your fingers over the different pieces of lace. You threw both a white and a black set in your bag, unable to choose. 

You flop onto your bed with a sigh once your bag is fully packed and you’re ready for your last day of work. You send Jake a quick text, since you both had been wishing each other good morning and good night all week.

You: I’m off to bed early, sweet dreams baby. I can’t wait for tomorrow :)

Jake glanced down at his phone in his hand and smiled. Josh smiled as well, watching his brother and figuring that he was talking to you. 

Jake: I’ve been waiting for Friday all week. Make sure you’re well rested for our movie marathon tomorrow :) goodnight and sweet dreams. 

•

•

It’s a beautiful and sunny Friday, and you finish work a little ahead of schedule, so you freshen up your hair and makeup at your work area.

“Hot date tonight?” Your coworker, Ashley, asked from behind you. 

You smirked a little as you curled another section of hair. “Something like that.”

“With who? Where are they from? Tinder, Hinge, Bumble-”

You cut her off with a sly smile. “A client.”

Ashley gasped. “You didn’t. No way. You of all people? Okay, okay. Let me guess who it is.” She closed her eyes and tapped her temples. Her eyes shot open as she mentally flipped through your potential suitors and she remembered one in particular. “Please, please tell me it’s a date with a very hot and very talented guitarist named Jake.”

You fluffed your hair, finishing up. “Yeah, he really is hot, isn’t he?”

Ashley squealed. “Oh, this is too good. I want to know everything on Monday.” She grins at you in the mirror. 

You turn around, starting to walk away, itching to get out of there. The more time you spend at work, the less time you have with Jake.  “Of course. Have a good weekend, Ashley!”

She waves and you zip over to your car and let Jake know you’re on your way. He doesn’t see your message because he’s busy putting the finishing touches on dinner and setting up his living room with candles and his favorite blankets. 

You park in his driveway and make your way to the door, ringing the doorbell. Jake all but sprints to the door and swings it open with a huge grin on his face. He’s wearing a classic Jake outfit - cropped and barely buttoned navy button-down shirt with his favorite pair of well-loved light wash jeans cuffed at the ankles, with his silver atocha coin pendant resting on his tanned chest. 

“Hey, you!” He says happily with a big grin as he tugs you over the threshold and into a tight hug. “Hi Jacob.” You say into his almost-bare chest, the back of your head being held by his hand. 

Jake loosens his grip on you and you pull back, but stay in his arms. “How was work?” He asks as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. 

You shrug. “Work was fine, nothing too exciting. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, I have some really important plans tonight.”

Jake smiles down at you as he reaches behind to shut the door, his eyes not leaving yours. “Oh yeah? Like what?” 

You loop your fingers into his belt loops and pull him forward, your lips meeting his. Without any hesitation, he’s kissing you back fiercely, moving his hands around your neck while you slide one hand just under the hem of his shirt that lands at his hips, and your other hand begins running up and down his warm chest. 

When you both can’t take it anymore, you pull back slightly. Jake’s chest is heaving up and down while he catches his breath and he looks at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Mmm, yeah that was really important.” Jake says in his deep rasp. You pat his chest with a smirk and he grabs your hand, kissing the back of it before leading you to his kitchen. 

“Jake, it smells amazing in here.” You say as you both stand in the kitchen. Jake smiles and looks down at the bottle of wine he’s grabbed, pouring both of you a glass. His cheeks warm at your praise. 

“Thank you, I’m really glad I get to cook for you tonight.” He hands you the glass of wine and you thank him with a kiss on the cheek. 

You sit on a stool in his kitchen after offering to help, which he immediately shot down. “You know, I remember there was one time you made chocolate chip cookies and brought them to the office on a day I was working there with you guys, and I’m pretty sure they were the best cookies I’ve ever had in my entire life. It had to have been two years ago but I still remember them.” You tell him and he smiles fondly at the memory.

It wasn’t often that he would bring homemade treats to the office, but he remembered from one of his appointments that you loved sweets, especially cookies. He purposely woke up early that day to make cookies to bring for everyone, but mainly you. The way your eyes lit up when he nervously approached you with the container and the big smile you gave him after declaring they were utterly delicious sent him to heaven and back. 

Jake smiles at you. “I have cookie dough chilling in the fridge, I remembered you really liked those. I’ll put them in the oven after dinner so we can have them for our movies.”

You rest your head on your hand on the counter and sigh happily up at Jake. “I don’t think you could get any sweeter, Jacob.” 

Jake’s cheeks darken into the nearly perpetual blush he has when he’s around you and he walks by you to grab the pizzas he made out of the oven. “Only for you.” He says with his back to you as he opens the oven, too shy to say that while making eye contact. You grin at the man standing before you, your heart overflowing. The feelings you had for Jake were unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. He was kind, thoughtful, hilarious, talented, intelligent - truly one in a million.

He sets the pizzas on the counter and they look amazing. “Okay chef, tell me what we have here.” You stand up and move to be next to him, lightly bumping his elbow and he chuckles.

“Um, well, this one on the left is a rosemary bacon goat cheese, it’s my favorite to make, and I didn’t know if that would sound good to you so I also made a cheese one.” Jake rubs the back of his neck nervously and peers down at you. 

“No, these both look amazing, thank you so much for making dinner.” You tell him as you wrap one arm around his waist and squeeze gently.

He wraps his arm around you as well and leans his head on yours. “You’re welcome, I’m just glad we can spend some time together this weekend.” He says quietly. He unwinds his arm and starts cutting the pizzas while you put the fruit and salads he had already prepped on the table.

You both grab some slices of pizza and sit at his kitchen table. It’s truly the best pizza you’ve ever had, far surpassing anything you’ve ever made before.

“Oh my god Jake, this is so good!” You say. He finishes his bite, holding back a smile. “I’ve been told before that if something happens and music doesn’t work out, I should pursue a culinary career.” He laughs.

You both finish eating dinner and Jake puts the cookies in the oven. Eyeing the bottle of wine on the counter, you refill both of your glasses and move to his living room, where he has cozy pillows, blankets, and candles set up. 

“Hey Jake, I’m going to change into comfier clothes.” You yell while walking upstairs with your bag. You walk into his room and grab your crewneck and leggings out of your bag and start to change. Jake had wandered upstairs and figured you were changing in his bathroom and strolled into his bedroom without a second thought, also planning on changing.

Your back was to his door and you were in your underwear, pulling your shirt off when you hear him behind you. “Oh my god! Sorry, sorry-” he says as he nearly trips over himself, stumbling out of his room hastily to give you privacy. Little did Jake know, you truly didn’t mind.

A giggle escapes your mouth as you turn around. “Jake, come back here!” You yell to him, still in your bra and underwear set.

He slowly walks back into his room, cheeks on fire and heart beating out of his chest, and is staring with wide eyes. Jake is seemingly frozen, taking all of you in. “I’m sorr-”

“Shh,” you whisper, approaching him and placing a finger on his lips, “it’s okay.” 

Jake swallows harshly and looks at you and timidly places his hands on either side of your waist, holding you close. His heart is pounding, but so is yours. “You are so beautiful.” He whispers as his sweet honey eyes meet yours. You smile and tuck some hair behind his ear before looping your arms around his neck. His lips are on yours instantly and all of a sudden, he’s pushed you against his bedroom wall. His hands begin to wander and so do yours, all without breaking the feverish kisses. He’s squeezing your ass and you have one hand up his shirt and one hand moving to his zipper when the oven goes off and a series of beeps chirp loudly from downstairs.

Jake pulls back with a loud groan. “God fucking dammit.” He mutters and you giggle. You back up off the wall and he heaves a heavy sigh before running downstairs to grab the cookies. 

You turn back to your bag, the moment ruined, but decide to put on your white lacy lingerie set under your comfy clothes. Jake hears you come downstairs and rubs the back of his neck when you come into the kitchen.

“Well, at least we have cookies.” He says while shooting you a nervous glance, making sure that you were fine after what just happened in his room. The tension between you two is thick. 

You laugh. “Can we get cozy on the couch? I really want to cuddle up with you.” You tell him and he gives you a small smile and a nod and puts a plate on the counter. “Throw some cookies on this plate and I’ll be right back.”

Jake runs upstairs to change and sighs as he looks at the situation in his pants. There’s no way you both were going to make it through a movie, much less an entire marathon, without things escalating. 

He came back down to find you cozied up under his blanket with the plate of cookies nearby. He grins at your cuteness and slides under the blanket with you. He tugs you into his side while grabbing the remote and starts scrolling through Netflix.

“What are you in the mood for, sweetheart?” He asks and you hum. “I know you love Pirates of the Caribbean, just throw on one of those?”

“God, you’re incredible.” He mutters under his breath and you snicker in response. He finds the first Pirates movie and hits play. You cozy up further into his side and he grabs a warm cookie off the plate and rips off a piece.

“You want some, baby?” He says quietly and you nod, fully expecting him to hand you the piece. Instead, he brings it to your mouth and watches your lips close around the small bite. His fingers brush your lips and his eyes turn dark. You throw your head back against his shoulder. “Oh my god, just as good as I remember.”

He laughs and feeds you another piece before taking a bite of his own. “Yeah, these are pretty good, in my humble opinion.”

The cookie is gone and you eye the plate on the side table on the other side of Jake. Feeling devious, you sit up a little and slide yourself across Jake’s lap, facing him. His mouth opens slightly out of surprise and you lean over to ghost his lips while blindly grabbing a cookie off the plate. “I wanted another one.” You whisper onto his lips and just before he can close the slight distance between your face and his, you slide back into your original spot with your cookie in hand.

“That was so mean.” Jake pouts and you laugh. You break off a piece of the cookie and hold it up to his lips as a consolation prize. He rolls his eyes at you but accepts the bite.

You both sit quietly for a few minutes, snuggled up together, before Jake gets antsy. His arm is wrapped around you and he starts making circles into your skin with his hand. His other hand is tapping his thigh, his eyes are on the TV screen. You can tell he’s not watching at all and his mind is elsewhere.

“You good, baby?” You ask him. He nods.

“Just fine.” He mumbles. 

You take your hand that’s resting on his chest and start slowly moving it down to his thigh. You start rubbing gentle circles up near where his thigh and hip meet and Jake shakily inhales before muttering “fuck it” and yanking you onto his lap. You’re straddling him, kissing him furiously while his hands pick up right where they left off in his bedroom.

Jake’s tongue dances at the entrance of your mouth and you eagerly let him in. Your hands travel down to the crotch of his pants and in that moment, you thank a higher power for Jake changing into sweatpants as you start to tug his pants down. “This okay?” You ask him, out of breath.

“Yes, oh my god yes.” He manages to get out and he lifts himself up a little so you can slide his pants off. You start attacking his neck with small kisses and move lower to his collarbone so you can leave marks. Your teeth sink gently into his skin and a whine escapes Jake’s throat and he moves his hands to the hem of your crewneck, hastily trying to lift it over your head.

He’s pantsless and you’re shirtless and Jake slows his movements for a moment, gawking at you in your lingerie. He has never seen someone so angelic in his life, and he swears that he will never commit another sin again if it means he can have you half naked in his lap every day for the rest of eternity.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, “you are so fucking beautiful, baby.” You grin at him while ripping your own leggings off and start kissing him again, this time rolling your hips a little and his cock is begging to be set free as it moves against your soaked core. Jake moans as you roll your hips and nibble on his ear at the same time and it’s the hottest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Let me hear you Jake.” You whisper into his ear before tugging on it with his teeth and he moves his hands from squeezing your ass to gripping the underside of your thighs, and he stands, shakily carrying you out of his living room. You don’t make it up the stairs, instead, he carries you to the wall and shoves you against it, still holding you up. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, your hands tugging his hair, and his tongue finds its way into your mouth again. 

You unwrap your legs and slide off of him, but Jake keeps you pressed against the wall. “Don’t fucking move.” He says in a deep voice. It’s now his turn to leave marks of his own on you, your body a blank canvas for the art he’s about to leave on your chest and stomach. His lips glide down the center of your chest as he skillfully unhooks your lingerie and tosses it to the side. “Angel, you’re an angel, so perfect.” He whispers as he starts to wrap his lips around your breast and you hiss out of pleasure when he bites down just above your nipple. He soothes the bite with his tongue before moving to your other side and continuing to kiss, suck, bite, and lip all the way down to below your belly button. He’s firmly holding you in place with his hands, his mouth doing all of the heavy lifting.

“Can I take these off, baby?” He asks with his fingers hooked in the elastic band and you all but rip the last remaining bit of lace off your body on your own.

“Someone���s eager.” Jake chuckles darkly. He starts leaving kisses and nibbles on the insides of your thighs while still holding you against the wall firmly at your hips and you're shaky and quickly losing the ability to stand while Jake continues to paint a canvas across your body.

“Jake,” you whine in a high pitch, “take me upstairs, please baby.” 

He moves his hands from your hips to under your ass and he lifts you with ease again. You start kissing his neck as he carefully navigates up the stairs and he throws you onto your back on his bed. Jake’s immediately on top of you and your hands travel to his boxers, tugging them down. His lips don’t falter against yours as he tosses the last bit of his own clothing to the side.

“Jake, baby, please, I need you.” You beg into his lips as your hands travel down to his cock and you start showing him some attention. Jake moans in response as he feels your hand wrapped around him and your free hand travels to his hair, yanking his face to yours.

“I. Fucking. Need. You.” You groan with gritted teeth and Jake’s chest is pounding as you push him off of you and force him onto his back. You’re in control now, and it’s not something Jake’s used to in bed.

“Jesus sweetheart.” He pants, chest starting to gleam with sweat. You start to kiss and lick down his tanned body, small breaths and whines leaving the back of his throat, until your lips meet the base of his cock. He’s big and beautifully pink, a delicious bead of precum waiting for you at the tip.

“Is this okay baby?” You ask and Jake can hardly get words out. “Please.” He whines and you immediately sink your lips around him, taking him in fully until he’s brushing the back of your throat. “So good for me baby, so good.” He moans and you take his balls in your hand, gently massaging them, as you start to move your lips up and down his shaft, swirling your tongue around the tip. Another whine escapes Jake’s throat involuntarily, he can’t help it, not when he’s been dreaming of a moment like this for three years.

You continue working up and down his cock, sweat pooling on Jake’s forehead and his hands gripping your hair, when his edge is quickly approaching.

“Baby you need to- I’m going to- if you keep.” He shakily gets out, no coherent thought able to make it from his brain to his lips as you suck him off to oblivion and back. You continue your movements until Jake moans your name and you feel him painting the back of your throat with his release. You swallow and slowly let him out of your mouth before kissing your way back up to his lips.

He eagerly greets you with his tongue yet again, small whines coming from both of you as he sits up and you sit in his lap, lips hungrily moving together.

Jake takes two of his fingers and drags them through your dripping core. “Is this all for me baby? What’s got you so worked up?” He’s looking at you with a shit-eating grin before he takes those same fingers and wraps his lips around them, eyes rolling back into his head. It’s incredibly filthy and incredibly sexy and-

“If I don’t have you inside of me in the next five minutes, I’m going to fucking die.” You huff and Jake’s eyes open and he takes his fingers out of his mouth, only to wrap his hand around your neck lightly.

“Patience, baby.” He growls lowly. “I’ve been waiting for this for three fucking years and we are going to take our time. Do you understand me?” 

You gulp, this Jake being worlds apart from the whiny man you were sucking off minutes prior. His hand is still lightly wrapped around your neck as you nod. 

“I need you to use your words, sugar.” Jake says, eyes dripping with lust for you. “I understand.” You whisper and Jake leans forward, not moving his hand.

“Do you know what the color system is?” He whispers into your ear and you nod. “Green, keep going, yellow, slow down, and red is a hard stop. What’s your color, sweetheart?”

“Green, fucking green.” You get out shakily, loving the feeling of his large calloused hand clamped around your neck and Jake smiles darkly. “My pretty little baby, our fun isn’t over yet.” He says and he finally removes his hand from your throat only to take fingers from that hand and tease you by swirling around your clit before sliding inside of you. You arch your back and moan loudly and Jake’s loving it. 

“Come on baby, let me hear you. Let me hear that pretty voice sing for me.” He says in a deep voice as his fingers start to work expertly inside of you. Jake’s enjoying this just as much as you are, and his cock is starting to grow hard again at the sounds of your moans and whines and feeling of his fingers pumping inside and around you. His fingers are curling and swirling in ways that feel incredibly sinful and his lips are kissing and biting your stomach and it must be what heaven feels like. 

“I need you to cum for me pretty, can you do that? Filthy girl, I know you want to.” He says with ragged breaths as he works you to your orgasm. You let go and Jake lets out a pleased hum, helping you ride out your pleasure. 

Jake slides up to your lips and tucks hair behind your ear. “Condom, baby?” You shake your head, struggling to find words. “I’m on the pill. Clean. I’m good.” 

Jake grins. “Me too. Are you ready to keep having fun, sugar?” You nod and Jake wraps his hand around your throat again, knowing that you like that.

“Words.” He gets through his gritted teeth.

“Yes baby, please, please I need you, need you inside of me.” You beg and Jake grins before kissing you and dragging your bottom lip down with his teeth.

He lines himself up and pushes himself into you, and you stand corrected. This is what heaven must be like. 

“So fucking tight,” Jake moans, “fuck.” He starts pumping in and out of you, finding a relentless rhythm and you wrap your legs around his torso and start biting on his collarbone and wrapping your hands in his hair. “My pretty little baby, taking my cock so well, I knew you would.” He praises you and you thank him with a kiss to his sweaty bare chest as he continues pounding into you. You know that you’re going to wake up with all sorts of aches after tonight, but it is so worth it.

You whine into Jake’s ear. “Jake, Jakey, I’m close.” 

“Do not cum,” he growls, not sacrificing his pace, “not until I say you can.”

“Please, please, baby,” you whine louder, “Jake, please let me cum. Let me cum all over your cock, baby please.”

Your begging and whining just propels Jake closer and closer to his own orgasm. You wrap your legs around him tighter and yank his hair just a little harder and he manages to get out, “Come on baby, cum for me.” 

You moan and finish with him inside of you and he’s right there with you. The feeling of him finishing, his release filling you up, and then him pulling out slowly is one that you hope you’ll get to experience again and again.

Jake collapses next to you and rolls onto his side, planting a small kiss on your lips. You lay together for a moment, completely still except for your chests moving up and down, trying to breathe normally again. Jake finds his footing and gets up, returning moments later with a warm washcloth. He carefully cleans you up and then himself and tosses the washcloth into his hamper. 

He walks back over to you and smiles. “Come on baby, let’s take a shower.” Jake says softly as he looks down at you in your completely fucked-out state.

You allow him to gently pull you off of his bed and he carries you to his bathroom, carefully setting you on the counter while he grabs towels and starts the water. 

Jake allows you to get in the shower first and the two of you stand under the water together, facing each other. You tilt your head up for a kiss and Jake presses his lips to yours and pulls back slightly. 

“Can I wash your hair for you, sweetheart?” He asks and you smile at him, never having been with someone that took care of you like this before. 

“Yes please.” You say in a small voice and Jake smiles as he grabs shampoo and puts some in his hair and yours. His fingers are like magic as they work the shampoo into your scalp, and your eyes fall shut. Jake giggles. “Don’t fall asleep on me yet.” He teases and you open one eye to playfully glare at him. 

Jake helps rinse the shampoo out of your hair and puts conditioner in it next. While that sits on both of your heads, he lathers up some soap and starts gently running his hands all over your body, leaving soft kisses in the places that water rinses you off. His touch is so gentle and caring. 

Once you both are all set, he dries you off, pressing more little kisses to your shoulders, chest, and hips, and then hands you a tshirt of his. You smile fondly at the worn cotton and pull it over your head before brushing your hair and getting ready for bed. 

Both of you collapse onto Jake’s bed, and he pulls you into him immediately. “Come here sweetheart, let’s get cozy.” He mumbles. Sleep is quickly coming for both you and him. Settling into his warm chest, you look up at him to see he’s already looking at you with a tired smile on his face. 

“Goodnight Jake.” You whisper and he gives you one last kiss before wishing you sweet dreams. 

•

•

The morning sun is peeking in through the windows and Jake wakes up before you do. He looks down at your sleeping figure curled up into him. Seeing you peacefully sleeping against him while wearing his shirt is something he wishes he could start every day with. He brushes hair out of your face and starts running his fingers lightly down your back. 

“Good morning sweetheart.” He says when your eyes start to open. “How did you sleep?”

You groan and stretch and curl up deeper into Jake’s side. He smiles at how cute you are when you’re sleepy. “So good,” you mumble, “you make a good pillow.” He smiles adoringly at you. 

You stay snuggled up to Jake for a few minutes and then lean up to give him a kiss once fully awake. “What are you up to today?” You ask him.

He shrugs. “Nothing really.”

You nod. “Same here.” You aren’t ready to leave Jake yet, and you have a suspicion that he feels the same. 

Jake looks over at you. “Stay with me. Please. I’ll make us breakfast and we can go to the farmer’s market. I don’t want you to leave yet.”

“I don’t want to leave either.” You say softly and the corners of his lips turn up. 

“Okay, I’ll get a head start on breakfast while you get ready.” Before you can offer to help, he places a quick kiss on your forehead and darts out of his room. 

You take a few minutes to put yourself together, and by the time you head downstairs, Jake’s almost done making pancakes and bacon. The sight of him standing in his kitchen, only in his boxers, is nearly enough to make you start drooling. 

“Hey, can you grab syrup and chocolate chips from the pantry?” He asks when he hears you walk in and you rifle through the items in the pantry until you find both. 

“Do you put both syrup and chocolate chips on your pancakes, Jake?” You ask, setting both on the counter. 

He breaks his concentration from the pancakes and turns around with a tiny grin. “I’ve told you before, I have a sweet tooth.”

You smile and grab plates and silverware and Jake puts food on both plates. You sit at his kitchen table together, eating breakfast and watching squirrels and birds in his backyard. It’s all so comfortable and natural, and you feel so at home with him. 

Jake quickly gets ready and you wash the breakfast dishes while you wait. He slips downstairs and a pair of hands find their way around your waist. “Ready to head out?” He asks lowly in your ear. 

You spin around and nod. He plants a single kiss on your lips before you both head out and get in his Jeep.

Jake plugs his phone in and puts his Spotify on shuffle. It’s a quick drive to the farmer’s market and the two of you sing along goofily to the songs playing. 

“I know we’re not really trying right now, but you do have a beautiful voice, Jake,” you tell him and his eyebrows raise and cheeks flush, “you should sing more.”

He clears his throat, clearly shy. “Um, maybe.” He nervously chuckles. It tugs at your heartstrings, knowing that he’s so musically gifted in so many ways, but he’s not as confident when it comes to singing. 

You reach over to grab his hand and he laces his fingers with yours for the rest of the drive. 

The farmer’s market is busy, and you get out of the car and the smell of flowers from a nearby stand instantly hits you and you close your eyes and smile. Jake matches your smile as he watches you open your eyes and turn to him. “Ready?” He asks and you nod, heading towards the crowd of people.

Jake insists that you stop first at the flowers, and he grabs a pretty bunch of wildflowers. You object, but he insists on getting them for you. “Thank you Jake,” you say as you hold them close to your face, “these are so gorgeous.”

He moves his sunglasses up and his eyes are glowing as he looks down at you. “You remind me of wildflowers, you know. They’re vibrant and full of personality. And beautiful.”

Your cheeks darken and you and look up at him. “You’re making me blush, Jacob.”

He chuckles and the corners of his eyes wrinkle as he smiles. “Good, you make me blush all the fucking time.”  You giggle and start walking, flowers in hand. Jake puts his sunglasses back on and walks next to you. 

The two of you slowly walk through the aisles of stands. It’s crowded, people nearly bumping into each other constantly, and Jake brushes his hand against yours. You think it might have been an accident due to the close proximity you’re forced into, but it happens again and he tries to catch your pinky finger. You pull your hand away. 

“Jake, we can’t, what if someone recognizes you?” You whisper quietly and his heart sinks a little. All he wants is to be yours, in public and in private, he doesn’t care what people think or may see. 

“I don’t care.” He whispers back, trying to catch your eyes, but you are looking ahead and keeping your hand away from his, holding the flowers in front of you with both hands. 

You aren’t even together, hell it’s only been a week and a half since you cut his hair and he invited you to hang out, but there’s a piece of him that’s hurt that you aren’t holding his hand in public when you are kissing and touching each other constantly when no one else is around. 

Neither of you say a word as you traipse through the rest of the market and make your way back to his Jeep. You silently get in and stare straight ahead, hands folded in your lap. Jake looks at you and sighs quietly, taking his sunglasses off.

“I meant it. I don’t care if someone sees me holding your hand.” He says, his tone laced with a little bit of hurt.

You turn to look at him. “I care, Jake. I don’t want to cause issues for you.” 

He shakes his head. “It’s really okay, I promise. I’m not really stopped in public that often anyways.” He hesitantly moves to grab one of your hands and you let him. He kisses the back of your hand and looks at you. “I like touching you.” He says plainly and you have to stifle a giggle at his forwardness.

“I know, you’re the touchiest person I’ve ever met in my entire life.” You pull your hand back and give him a smirk. “I don’t mind it though.” 

He grins at you and leans forward while tapping his lips, silently asking for a kiss and proving your point. You lean forward too and press a sweet kiss to his lips. 

Jake doesn’t say anything about how he wishes he could be touching you constantly, how he daydreams about what life could look like with you, how he wishes he was fucking you in the backseat of his Jeep right now, how he desperately wants to call you his and his only. He doesn’t want to scare you with his intensity, but little does he know that you’re starting to feel the same way about him. 

“All good? Ready to head out?” He asks instead of revealing any of his thoughts to you and you nod. 

After a few minutes of driving with music quietly playing, Jake pulls back into his driveway and turns to look at you. “I’m guessing you’re going to head home?” He asks. You can tell he wants you to stay, but you have your weekend errands to run, and you also want some down time to yourself before launching into yet another week at work.

You nod in response to his question and grab one of his hands in both of yours. “Thank you again for yesterday Jake, it’s been fun hanging out with you. And thank you again for the flowers.” 

He gives you a small smile and leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s do something this week or next weekend too, yeah?”

You tuck a piece of hair behind his ear. “I’d like that.” You say softly. You lean forward to kiss him. “Text me.” You say as you get out of his Jeep and he grins. “Bye sweetheart, see you soon.” He says and you wave as you get into your car and pull out of his driveway.

Jake watches you drive away and he leans back in his seat, making no effort to go inside his house. Despite the tiny bit of awkwardness earlier, he smiles as he reflects on the last 18 hours spent with you. He hasn’t felt this happy and his heart hasn’t been so full in a long, long time. 

Good things are happening. I just need to be patient. 

•

•

TAGLIST: @reesetrippingthelight @spark-my-nature

[theysayitscrazy]

Eliminated Part 2 (NSFW)

FanFic Friday Week 4 (Slightly Late) @rebelwrites​

Clay Spenser x Reader (Reader is Full Metal’s sister)

Let me know if you wanna be tagged when I post.

You stare at the invitation with mild contempt. It was overly shiny and sparkly, and covered in glitter. It was just plain gaudy. The amount of pink included should be outlawed. You hated this time of your 20’s. Everyone you knew was either getting married, buying houses, or having babies. Yet, you were still single. You chose your career, over a relationship. Well, according to your ex, that’s what happened.

In reality, you grew apart and lived different lives while struggling to make things work. In the end, they hadn’t worked out, and the problem had to be eliminated.

That had been a year ago. Now you were thirty years old, single, and too focused on your career to even meet a guy outside the office. And the dating world had gone digital in the last decade, leaving you completely out of the loop on where to even begin. The idea of meeting a guy from the internet left you unsettled and turned off.

You sigh and toss the envelope on the bar in front of you and reach for your drink.

Your phone chirps and you reach for it as someone sits in the seat next to you at the bar. Annoyed, you look up from your phone to give whoever it was that decided they needed to sit so close to you in an empty bar, a piece of your mind, only to find the blond haired and blue-eyed charmer known as Clay Spenser.

“Spenser,” you acknowledge.

He leans forward on the bar and motions for the bartender. He orders a beer and then snatches up the invitation. “Holy pinkness,” he chuckles.

You roll your eyes as you skim over the email you just received from a client.

“Always working?” Clay asks.

You glance up from your phone and realize you’re being rude. Sighing, you turn off the screen and set your phone down. “Usually,” you grumble in response.

Clay’s smile is easy, but you can see the way he’s watching you, like he’s reading your mood. “Bad day?” he asks.

“Yes… no… I don’t know.” You sigh and take a pull off your glass.

Clay chuckles again. “I’ve never known you to not have an answer.”

You shake your head and look down at your phone as a text message chirps through. You can feel Clay’s eyes on you, like they usually are, but you ignore him, like you usually do. Ever since that night at your brother’s house, when your ex had been eliminated, things had gotten interesting between the two of you.

The flirting was fun. But that’s all it was. Fun, right? He worked with you brother, he was younger than you, if only by a couple years, but he felt… wholesome. He wasn’t tainted like you were.

Before you can answer the string of text messages that came thru, your phone rings. When Harvey’s face pops up the screen you frown and debate answering it. You were done with him for the day. You groan and answer the facetime call. “Hey.”

Harvey’s smirk is annoying as he looks you over.

You rolled your eyes, knowing what he saw. White pinstripe halter stop that buttoned down the middle and showed ample cleavage but stayed professional. The black matching suit coat was off and draped around the back of the bar stool, so your vibrant black and watercolor tattoos that covered both arms were on display and contrasted against your professional attire.

“You need something?” you raise an eyebrow at him, waiting for his sardonic comments to start rolling in.

“Yeah, for you to get your head out of your ass. Let me guess, you’re at some dive bar, drink in hand, wallowing self-pity,” Harvey shoots at you as he levels you with a typical Specter head tilt.

You narrow your eyes at him as Clay chuckles.

“Boo hoo, your last college sorority sister is getting married. What do you care? You haven’t talked to the chick in two years. Put your big girl panties on and man up. I need you to meet a client.”

You pick up your drink and stare Harvey down as you toss back the remnants of the straight whiskey.

Harvey smirks, “We both know you can handle your liquor. So why don’t you take that SEAL team hot shot you got eating out of the palm of your hand and go meet the client. I’ll text you the address. It’s in Rochester.”

“Harvey, that’s an hour away and it’s a shitty neighborhood,” you shoot back him.

Harvey smirks. “Good thing you’ll have a bodyguard. Oh, and another thing. Get laid.” He hangs up the phone.

You let out a frustrated growl and slam the phone on the bar top.

Clay turns his big body towards you and smirks. “Need a bodyguard?”

You glare at him and grab your keys off the bar. You slide off the barstool and grab your black pinstripe jacket off the back. You take your time pulling it on. Clay’s eyes are on you. Once things are buttoned in place, your black jacket matching your black pants, you look up to meet Clay’s gaze and raise an eyebrow at him.

He smirks and lets his gaze wander over your body. He no longer hides his blatant attraction for you, and while he’s yet to act on it, he’s stared in many of your fantasy’s. How’d he get you off with those deft fingers. That scruffy beard adding pleasure as he ran kisses down your body.

His smirk widens, as if he can read your dirty thoughts. You keep your face indifferent though. You play it off with a roll of your eyes.

“I’ll drive,” he comments and holds out his hand.

You stare at those fingers before you think fuck it and hand over the keys to your Range Rover. You ignore him and turn toward the exist.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asks.

Confused you glance at him over your shoulder and groan when he’s holding up the pink wedding invitation. He laughs and looks at it. “It’s pretty horrible.”

“She an old sorority sister,” you sigh with a shrug. “She’s…bubbly.”

“I can’t believe you were ever in a sorority,” Clay sniggers. “Not Miss tattooed, ‘Punk Rock Princess over here.’ Miss, ‘I’ll eliminate any threats to my person.’”

You roll again and turn toward the door. “Bitch please,” you shook back at him. “I’m a God Damn Queen.”

~*~

“That was not what I was expecting,” Clay murmured when he pulled in your brother’s driveway, several hours later.

You glance over at him. He’d been quiet the entire drive back from the client’s house. “My job isn’t always mergers and acquisitions,” you state, knowing where his head was at. “Sure, they pay the bills and I’m damn good at it. But this, is why I became a lawyer. People like Carl Terron. People who were taken advantage of and used and degraded, and in the end lost everything. This case could be the case that changes laws and sets precedents, so that something like what happed to Terron, doesn’t happen to anyone else again. This case could help save lives.”

Clay turned to you during your passionate speech and watched you. When you stopped speaking, he reached out with his large hand and cupped the side of your face.

You freeze. For as much the two of you had been flirting for the past year, he’d never made a move before. His blazing blue eyes bore into yours. His intensity stirs something deep inside you. You wait, watching him, like a deer in the headlights.

His fingers curl around the back of your head as his calloused thumb caresses your cheek.

“Clay,” you say, not really sure why you’re stopping this.

He drops his hand almost instantly and you immediately miss the warmth of his palm. Pain flashes across his eyes, or regret maybe? “I’m sorry,” he sighs, and looks out the front window. “I know you’re still dealing with last year. I shouldn’t have come on so strong.”

“It’s not that,” you sigh, playing with the several rings on your fingers.

“Then what is it?” Clay asks, looking over at you, hurt still evident in his eyes.

His pain strikes you and you reach out and take his hand in yours. “I’m being stupid.” You play with those deft fingers in yours, and a blush tints your cheeks as you think of all your fantasies that those fingers played a staring role in.

“That’s a lie. You’re one of the smartest people I know,” Clay says and squeezes your fingers between his. “What’s going on with you today?”

You look up, startled, and find yourself staring into his endless baby blues. “What do you mean?” you ask, confused.

“I mean, you’re not yourself. Yeah, at client’s house you put on a good show, but before that, at the bar… now? What’s going on with you?” His gaze is piercing, and you find yourself at a loss for words.

You open your mouth, trying to find the words, when a knock on the window behind Clay startles you. “Shit!” you shriek and jump a mile out of your seat.

Clay turns, and you see your brother looming through the driver’s side window, flashlight shining in on you. You reach across the center console and lean over Clay’s big body and press the button for the window. “What the fuck?” you yell at Scott.

“What the fuck you doin out here?” Metal’s voice is deep and commanding.

“Sitting in the fuckin car, what’s it look like we’re doing? Jesus fucking Christ. What the fuck you out here for?” Your anger kicks up.

“It’s my house. I’m allowed to wonder why my baby sister is sitting in the dark in her car late at night. Where the fuck ya been? It’s past midnight,” Metal demands.

Pissed, you climb over the center console and get right into Clay’s lap. “Shit,” he groans and holds his arms out in surrender as you climb fully into his lap.

You ignore him as you settle onto his powerful thighs and get in your brother’s face through the window. “Why the fuck is it any of your business where the fuck I’ve been? Cut the shit Scott. I’m thirty fucking years old. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, and you can fuck off,” you shout at him.

Scott laughs and you roll your eyes. “Spenser though, really?”

“Fuck yeah, and fuck you,” you shout back him, a smirk on your face.

“Fuck you,” Scott grumbles and heads for the house.

When Scott was gone, you let out a chuckle and lean into Clay. You find yourself tucked against him, your head on his shoulder, in the crook of his neck. “Hold me,” you murmur into his ear.

His arms come around you in a tight embrace and cradles you against his warm body. You’re curled against his chest and for the first time in who knew how many years, you finally felt safe. He is solid and broad and strong, and you relish the feeling of being in his arms.

You take a deep breath, breathing in his scent and close your eyes. He smells like home.

“Y/n, what was that about?” Clay asks softly.

You shake your head, not wanting to break the moment. He’s so warm, so safe.

Clay’s large hand slides up your back and his fingers card through your hair.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” you ask, before he can say anything.

Clay stills, his hand fisted in your hair. “No. Why would you think that?”

“Before… you had asked me what was going on with me today,” you murmur into his neck, finding it easier to speak without looking at him.

His hand not fisted into your chignon, rubs idle circles on your back. Calming… soothing. “Does this have to do with your ex?” he asks.

You nod slowly. “He was friends with all my friends in college. We met our freshman year. We had all the same friends. So that Wedding invitation just brought up a bunch of old memories, both good and bad,” you sigh.

Clay’s fingers massage your scalp as he holds you tight against him. “No, I don’t think you’re a bad person,” he finally answers. “I think you’re strong and fierce and aren’t afraid to stand up for yourself. You can take care of yourself and others and eliminate any problems that comes your way.”

You find yourself smiling against his neck. You pull back to look him in the eyes. There’s a seriousness in his blazing blue eyes that you hadn’t seen before. It makes you pause and take him in, really take him in. For all the flirting and banter the two of you had thrown back and forth for the past year, you hadn’t really stopped to consider how fucking real he was.

There was a raw honesty in those baby blues that grasped at your heartstrings and pulled. What you had mistaken as wholesome, was in actuality, genuine and real. You were surrounded by fake people on the daily, but Clay Spenser, was as real as they came.

You reach up and run your fingers through his scruffy beard. It was softer than you expect. His eyes are on your face, watching your every move. It’s clear by his cautious gaze, he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

So, you do. You lean forward, lacing your fingers through his beard and pull his mouth down to yours at the same time. His fingers tighten in your hair, and you gasp as he pulls your hair so deliciously. He takes advantage of your gasp and his tongue sweeps in. Your eyes drift close as the kiss turns more passionate.

You shift against him and realize your pencil skirt is ridiculous and not cooperating. You groan when he nibbles on your bottom lip. You try to pull away, but he’s got a firm grip in your hair, so you whimper against his lips.

His chuckle has your eyes opening. His eyes are watching you while he bites down just a bit harder. His hand slides up your thigh and under your pencil skirt with ease. You whimper again and let your eyes fall close. He releases your lip, so you use his beard to pull his mouth back to yours. “Uh uh, baby,” he murmurs against your lips.

You snap open your eyes again, and he’s smirking down at you. “Bu-”

“Shh,” he whispers. “Trust me?”

You gasp slightly and your eyes go wide. The earnestness in his gaze has you nodding though. It’s reluctant and slow, and Clay seems to get that. He presses a soft kiss to your lips before he whispers, “Close your eyes.”

And you do. You rest your head in the crook of his neck and let him take care of you.

His hands work magic on your body. One slides down and manages to undo the clasp and zipper at the back of your pencil skirt while his other hand slides up your thigh to your core and he chuckles when he finds the lack of panties. “Naughty, naughty,” he murmurs.

You smirk and place an open-mouthed kiss to the column of his neck.

The sharp pinch to your inner thigh has you jumping and groaning. “None of that,” he orders, his voice deep.

You let out a pathetic whimper and give into him. His deft finger’s part your folds and he chuckles again, “So wet for me, baby.”

He takes his time sliding one long and thick finger all the way to the knuckle and you part your thighs as much as the now unzipped pencil skirt will allow. He slides in a second finger, and you groan. God his fingers are thick. God damn, do they feel good.

His thumb circles your clit almost teasingly and you thrust your hips up to try and get some friction from it. The pinch to your nipple comes as a surprise and you let out a low groan. “Be good.” Clay commands, softly.

You run your hand through his beard and slide it to the back of his head, curling your fingers in his curls.

His pace is brutal and you’re barely holding on when his mouth covers yours and he says, “Come for me,” against your lips.

You shatter into a million pieces in the front seat of your Range Rover. “Good girl,” Clay’s voice is rough and deep and has you opening your eyes. He watching you with a reverent smile on his lips.

You grin and use his beard to pull his mouth to yours again. His fingers in your cunt swirl again and let out a low groan. “Wanna come inside?” you ask.

He chuckles and swirls his fingers again. “I thought I already was.”

You close your eyes and let out a little whimper. “The house Clay.”

“Your brother gonna kill me?”

“Nah, I’ll deal with Scott.”

“Gonna eliminate him?”

“I’m gonna eliminate you if you don’t finish what you started.” His rich laugh puts a smile on your face, and you have a thought. “Hey, you wanna go to a wedding with me?”

“Do I have to wear a tie?”

Your eyes snap open to take in his goofy face and grin. “Only if you wanna use it to tie me up later,” you smirk at him.

He grins wickedly and curls his fingers inside you, sending you over the edge again.

[writtenjewels]

Escort part 2

Part One

John lay stretched out on his couch, staring up at the ceiling with his mind drifting as he listened to music. Inevitably his thoughts made their way back to the job he had a few days ago. It wasn't the first time he'd been hired by friends wanting to give someone a good time. John wondered if these friends knew that the “good time” boiled down to a homemade meal and watching sports.

He couldn't remember the last time a job turned out like that. It wasn't exactly common in this line of work, but every now and then he did get a client who just wanted to make out or cuddle. He and Kaidan had barely touched except to shake hands. He would think that Kaidan just wasn't interested, except every now and then during the evening Kaidan would look at him a certain way or make a comment that sounded flirtatious.

It was strange. Maybe he was shy, or embarrassed that his friends hired John? It was a familiar reaction. Hell, sometimes the people who hired him for themselves were embarrassed. How many times had he heard them lament over not being able to find a “real” date? John found it hard to believe Kaidan wouldn't be able to find a date if he wanted. The guy was pretty as fuck. Of course the same could be said for John himself.

He caught a flashing light out of the corner of his eye and sat up. He must have missed the new private message alert. It was from his escort account, which meant he had a new job waiting. John got up and opened the message.

John, I have tickets to a hockey game and my friend had to cancel at the last minute. Interested? Let me know.

Kaidan

That was strange. He read over the message again. There was no credit advance attached so he could ignore this if he wanted. But he was very curious as to why Kaidan was contacting him after their evening together. Had he been thinking about John? Did he want something more to happen this time? John decided to do some prep just in case. His clients really liked it when he did that.

He felt a sense of deja vu as he stood at Kaidan's door and knocked. Kaidan answered the door and John took a minute to just look at him. The guy was more casually dressed this time, wearing a jersey John assumed was in support of one of the hockey teams.

“Wow,” he smiled. “You look great.”

“So do you,” Kaidan returned. “Though I'm curious: do you have any clothes that fit you?” John laughed and plucked at his shirt. All his escort clothes were meant to be a little tight to show off his body. “Nevermind.” Kaidan waved the subject away. “I just hope you don't distract the players.”

“Oh.” John smiled, sliding his arm around Kaidan's without even thinking. “You're saying I'm distracting?”

“The way you dress? Yes, very.” Kaidan didn't pull away. They headed outside and took rapid transit. John had considered renting a car again but that hadn't swept Kaidan off his feet last time. They talked more on the way, mostly about the rules of hockey since John didn't understand the sport at all.

When they arrived Kaidan suggested they get some snacks. John got in line to pay while Kaidan headed for their seats. He did notice people eyeing him while waited for his turn. But he was sure there were quite a few eyes on Kaidan, too. The guy had a great ass... not that John looked. Much. He got the snacks and headed off to find Kaidan. He caught the man staring at him and smiled.

“Were you just checking me out, Alenko?” he teased as he settled into his seat.

“I was hoping to catch you out of your element,” Kaidan corrected. He took his beer and sipped. “I'm starting to think everything is your element.”

“It's part of the job. I'm completely lost when it comes to sports, but if you're having a good time, that's all that matters.”

“So... you're okay doing anything I want to do?” Kaidan asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course.” Especially if “anything” means kissing me. Or taking me home and fucking me. I'd be very okay with that. “As long as we're both consenting. I don't do anything my client doesn't want, and I make it clear when I don't want something.”

“Have you--” Kaidan paused, fiddling with his beer bottle. “Sorry for all the questions, I'm just trying to understand. Is it always just one client?”

“Always,” John nodded. “I could get more money from multiples, but I like one-on-one better. I can focus completely on that person, really get to know them. It's actually my favorite part of this job: learning about the person.”

“And what have you learned about me?”

John gave it some thought. “You're very down-to-earth. You have a good sense of humor, you're smart, a good cook, friendly... You have this calm about you that I think people find reassuring.” Kaidan stared at him for a moment before looking away.

“That's... observant.” Was he blushing? John hoped so. They fell quiet to watch the game. Kaidan cheered or groaned depending on the play. Around half-time Kaidan started rubbing at his forehead, his body slightly hunched forward.

“Are you okay?” John worried.

“Mmn. Just a migraine. I get them sometimes.”

“Do you want to leave?” Surely all the noise and lights made it worse.

“John, I've dealt with this for nearly my whole life. Just give me a minute.” Nearly his whole life? John was no medical expert but chronic migraines had to mean something serious. He didn't like just sitting there while Kaidan suffered but Kaidan had rejected his help. It took much longer than a minute before Kaidan dropped his hand and let out a sigh.

“You good?” John asked.

“Manageable,” Kaidan replied.

“What's that mean?” He eyed Kaidan, a suspicion forming. “Shit, you're just going to sit there and take it, aren't you?”

“It's manageable,” Kaidan insisted. “I told you, I've dealt with this for years. If I had to put my life on hold every time I had a migraine, I'd never get anything done. Just... watch the game with me, please. I don't want you to treat me differently because of this.”

“Okay. Sorry.” John turned his eyes back on the game. He concentrated hard on each play so he wouldn't think about all the things he could do to make Kaidan's pain go away. Finally the game ended and everyone started getting up to leave. “Did your team win?” John asked, hoping for a neutral topic.

Kaidan gave him a half exasperated, half fond look. “You're hopeless with sports, John. What do you do with yourself, anyway?”

“You mean in my free time? Listen to music, feed my hamster, try for a new high score in the combat sims.”

“You have a hamster?” Kaidan questioned. “That's cute. What's its name?”

“Aldrin.”

“Wow.” Kaidan was grinning at him, making John's insides fluttery. He wished Kaidan would just kiss him already. “You're a space nerd.” John let out a laugh. He liked this guy, liked him a lot. And he was sure Kaidan liked him, too. He dared to lean a little closer.

“You should see my model collection.”

“That your way of inviting me back to your place?” The tone in Kaidan's voice suggested he was still teasing. Looking at him, John could easily picture the rest of the evening. He would take Kaidan in his arms and undress the man slowly, admiring every inch of him. Kaidan would be naked and gorgeous underneath him, legs wrapped around his waist, breath coming out rough and needy as John fucked him nice and slow.

“If that's what you want,” he said out loud.

“I don't have the credits for that,” Kaidan told him. “Let's just call it a night.” John nodded mutely, his heart now going a little faster. He hadn't heard a “no”.

“Could I kiss you goodnight?” Kaidan's eyes flicked down to John's mouth and back up to his face.

“I don't think I have the credits for that, either.”

“Jesus Christ, Kaidan, I don't get paid to be attracted to you,” John huffed out in annoyance. Kaidan's eyes widened. Shit, John hadn't meant to blurt that out. But then Kaidan was leaning closer, eyes falling closed. Their lips connected and John fought hard not to move in case it scared Kaidan off. But damn did he want to. He wanted to feel that hair under his fingers, bring that body closer to his, get a real taste of that mouth.

The kiss couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds. Kaidan broke it and took a step back. “Shit,” he cursed, and got in the first open taxi that drove by. John could only stand there in a daze.

What the hell just happened?

[us-ugay]

Ugh sorry I’m late to this topic but your office au thing, as a mid-20s office worker, has me losing it. No one hates sales like the ppl who have to execute all the things sales sells that don’t exist yet. I can’t think of anything more infuriating than when sales sells smth and everyone else has to go “cool, we don’t offer that, but I guess we do now.”

Al is the kinda guy who believes in the ppl around him’s ability to make things happen (and also wants his commission check bc that’s how you like. Make rent). He would be GREAT at selling shit to high profile clients and earning the scorn of his coworkers bc he sold smth in the “technically-possible-but-oh-my-god-please-no” category. Arthur doing any sort of implementation work and being a perfectionist who HATES the idea of flopping? He would keep getting stuck w these awful assignments, just the worst clients. The real weirdos who scream at you over Microsoft teams calls. BUT he looks good bc he always deals w it anyway. He gets called a rockstar on slack by his manager. He does NOT get a raise. Everyone says that he and alfred are a great team. They both hate it bc Alfred sells shit they can’t do and Arthur is a pain and keeps making passive aggressive announcements during the sales/implementation sync about how to frame product capabilities to future clients.

They eventually go to a company happy hour and both take FULL advantage of their boss paying. They take the same train line back to their respective homes and talk MAD shit about how it’s so bullshit that HR told them no new hires till next year bc they’re already understaffed. And can you believe that at Brent’s farewell party all ppl were able to say he contributed was “bromance” and yet he’s going to a job where he’s gonna make 6 figures?? He left his projects in a total state of disarray and didn’t even document them properly and now everyone else has to clean up his mess while he and his family take a trip to Disney before he starts at his new cushy salaried job.” I feel like after a few rounds of regular shit-talking they’re screenshotting slack messages and sending them to each other like “WHY did Brenda react to Marc’s announcement that he’s leaving the company w the party emoji, read the room, Marc is the only one on the customer service team who knows ANYTHING and he’s gonna be impossible to replace” and “i just walked by Mikayla’s desk and for some reason she just has a Google images tab open and is just looking at pics of the Kardashian’s. Why.”

Am I projecting? Yes. But also, these scenarios are based on real convos and experiences I’ve had and real office crushes I’ve witnessed. I’ve worked a few office jobs now and I feel qualified. I’m at work now even. I’m an expert in the stupidity of office work.

bro BROOOOO 😭 brooooooooooo i hate this so much but only because i can absolutely see this exact same shit happening at my office

my office always has a yearly christmas party where the higher ups rent out a bar nearby and expect everyone to go even tho its always on a fucking week day from like 4-10 in the afternoon and they get pissed when folks dont go and half of everyone gets shit faced and anyways i wanna join in on this perfect projection so those two? hating each other and getting shit faced at the christmas party but then they both find themselves going the same way home and realize that they can bond over hating everyone else? oh you know those two would go home and bone and then wake up to ww3 when the texts they were forwarding to each other just so happened to be sent to other people as well 👀👀👀

i work compliance and dealing with all the messy bullshit my companys versions of sales reps do is an absolute fucking nightmare and im not even the one dealing with customers or anything like that 😭 i know arthurs a dick but jesus christ he still must have the patience of an absolute saint to where passive aggressive remarks are the worst he does

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Mabel AU- The Letters

@haberdashing

Martin is an at home care giver, trying to reach the Grandson of his latest client.

This is basically a rewrite of the first episode of Mabel.  There really aren't many direct quotes, only a couple very short ones, everything else is mine.

Thanks for reading!  If you want more of this AU, let me know, or just let me know if you enjoyed!   Another fic of some sort or other will be posted next week!

ARCHIVIST: Hello, you’ve reached Jonathan Sims.  I’m not here to take your call right now.  Please leave a message after the beep.  Thank you.  

[BEEP]

MARTIN: Hey, Jonathan, right?  My name is Martin Blackwood, and I’m with Kings County Home Help?  I’ve been taking care of your grandmother for the past six months.  I’m her at home carer?  I know I probably shouldn’t have your number, but I wanted to check in with you.  Nothing’s wrong.  Nothing’s wrong.  Gertrude Sims is fine.  Good, actually, for her age.  Sorry, is that insensitive?   In any case, I’d like a call back, if you aren’t too busy.  Right.  Let me apologize for how I got your number.  I know it’s probably unorthodox, probably breeching some privacy agreement or something… 

[SIGH]

[ASIDE]

Don’t tell him that, Christ what is wrong with you?

[TO JON]

Right.  Well I got your number from my coworker, Sasha, who’s friends with Tim, who’s friends with you.  And he apparently hasn’t heard from you in a little, and would like him to call you back.  He told Sash to tell me to tell you that, by the way.  That was the price for your number.  Sorry for that.  I’m sure you have …things.  A life in the real world and not in this distant and lovely house.  

…Sorry, that was… Anyways, give me a call back when you can, yeah?  Thanks.  Bye!

[ASIDE] 

Christ!  What’s wrong with you… catch sight of one pretty photo… SHIT, right, hanging up.  

[BEEP]

[MUFFLED THROUGH A POCKET] 

[QUIETLY SINGING TO HIMSELF OVER THE SOUND OF KITCHEN] 

…Onions in the paaaaaan.  Why aren’t you hot enough yeeeet?  The water sizzledddddd, but it isn’t sizzling noooow.  

[NEGLECTED PHONE SOUND] 

[REALIZING]

OH SHIT.  SORRY.  

[BEEP]

[CLEARS THROAT] 

Hi, Mr. Sims.  It’s me again.  It’s Martin.  I… I’m trying to reach you… again.  …As you probably can tell.  It’s just been three days, and I would really like a call back.  I just realized I didn’t give a number or like, I know you can probably figure out that you can reach me through this number, but I didn’t say it and I didn’t tell you when I was available, and maybe that’s why you haven’t gotten back to me.  At least I hope that’s why.  I… I can’t imagine not calling one of my Mum’s doctors back.  Anyways, my number is [CENSORED] in case you can’t just ring back or something.  Maybe your phone blocks unknow numbers and you haven’t even gotten this.  Maybe I was listed as private and you couldn’t call back.  Maybe you’re very polite and didn’t want to bother me when you didn’t know my schedule.  I’m available from 2-5pm and in the evenings after 9pm.  Or maybe you’ve got phone anxiety.  I know I do, heh.  I’m sweating just leaving you this message.  

Or maybe you’re just busy.  

Or maybe you tried to call, and I just didn’t get it.  The reception isn’t great out here, as …you probably know.  Given you grew up here.  But anyways I have made sure I can get your message even with the dead-phone zones.  It’s all set up.  So… just needing a call back when you can.  Well, not needing.  But… I’d like one.  Thanks.  Bye.  

[BEEP]

Hi.  It’s me …again.  Just… trying to reach you.  Whatever.  

[BEEP] 

Call me back and let me know you aren’t dead in a ditch somewhere, okay?  Sash says Tim is really worried… And… I might be too.  Not that I even know you.  Not really.  So if you aren’t rotting in some hole somewhere, give me a call back, please?

[BEEP]

Where did you go?  

[BEEP]

Hi.  It’s me.  …I’ve heard a lot about you, you know?  Mostly from you Grandmother, Gertrude.  

[ASIDE] 

Christ, Martin.  He knows his grandmother’s name.  

[TO JON]

Right.  Anyhow.  She’s told me a lot of stories, you know?  She’s actually pretty sharp.  Most of the time, anyhow.  Mostly lucid.  I’m not sure if that’s all because of her medicine or what.  I’ve… I help a lot of old people, at the end of their lives.  And well… when I say she’s sharp, I mean that she is sharp comparatively, and also just remarkably so.  Her words are confident, and considered.  She doesn’t waste words, but she doesn’t shy away from telling stories.  (I’m sure it’s just because she has no one else to talk to.  Not even you.)  But… you’ve stopped feeling like a real person on the other end of the line.  That’s part of why I wanted to call?  I guess?  The longer that it’s been since my first message, the more I doubt myself for calling, and why I called.  Sorry, then, for wasting your time.  Thinking of you more like a book character, than someone with feelings and thoughts and a life.  Someone who I know too much about for us to be casual strangers, even if I am a complete stranger to you.  It just feels like a weird imbalance, you know?  

Also… it’s a bit lonely out here, you know?  Gertrude has a lot of old photographs of you.  None of them are recent.  And I know it isn’t my business, but… never mind.  It isn’t my business… and I get it.  

But… she still has your photos up.  It’s my job to dust them.  So, every week or so, I get a really good look at them.  There’s one of you on the tire swing out back… it’s still back there, you know?  You have mud all over your dungarees.  And in your hair.  Then there’s one… you look about 7?  Your hair is in pig tails, and you are scowling at something off to your right.  I don’t know what it is, and I know I shouldn’t find that kind of adorable, but I do.  And there’s one of you in uni.  You’re flipping off the camera and your hair is short and you’re wearing eyeliner.  You look some odd combination of pissed off and like you’re having the time of your life.  

[ASIDE]

And really, really, really hot.  Christ, Martin, keep it together.  You are literally on the phone with him, and you haven’t even talked to him.  Jesus!

[TO JON]

I.. wish I could have known you then.  That’s the oldest you look in these.  Most of these are pictures of you when you were little.  Mostly just you.  A few of your dad when he was young, and one of your parents.  She’s pregnant, and it’s sunset.  They look so …happy.  Christ, I’m sorry about what happened to them.  I… I didn’t really know my dad either.  

Sorry.  This isn’t about me.  

I’m calling because this place is… spooky.  Spooky like a dark fairy tale.  

Everything here is a bit… magical and creepy.  

This house is old.  Like a museum.  Dusty boxes in the attic, full of treasures and dust the relics of the past, like the Long past.  Not just the past of one lifetime.  The garden is overgrown, despite my best efforts.  Sometimes, Gertrude comes out and helps me garden.  Usually in her chair.  Mostly I just wheel here out so she can get some sun while I work.  That’s where I hear most of the stories about you.  

It’s overgrown with twisting vines and the most beautiful roses I have ever seen, with scary-long thorns.  

I feel like I’ve walked into the setting for a classic.  Like Jane Eyre or Pride and Prejudice, or hell, even Tolkien.  Or even Grimm’s fairytales.  The original, dark ones.  

It’s… unsettling.  Especially when it’s foggy out.  

The rest of the hills disappear into the fog and the condensation clings to the flowers, desaturated with the thickness of the moisture in the air, and the everything is coated in the most delicate, perfect little water droplets.  

Anyhow.  The reason I’m really calling… are the letters.  

I was helping Gertrude move some things up to the attic.  She’s one of the practical sorts of old people.  She isn’t afraid of her death.  She wants everything to be easy on you, you know?  Make sure you don’t have to go through too much stuff when she passes on.  I’ve lived with a lot of people through their deaths.  It’s nice… making sure no one dies alone.  Making sure they are comfortable.  Making it as painless as possible.  

[ASIDE]

Lord knows my efforts were never good enough for my mother… but if I can help other people…

[TO JON]

I know it’s a little morbid.  But I like it.  I feel… useful.  I’m good at it.  I’m good at keeping up conversations, and at cooking, and cleaning, and providing medical assistance, as needed.  Not that I’m an actual doctor, but I, you know, do have a lot of training.  

Anyway.  The letters.  I was helping her move some stuff into the attic, and bringing down some older boxes so she could go through them and decide what she was ready to toss, when I found them.  This box full of letters.  Hundreds of them.  All unopened.  Sealed with a kiss.  Lipstick red.  Red as dying embers.  Stamped returned to sender.  Slightly scorched around the edges.  Tied in bundles.  Identical envelops.  Identical loose, looping cursive.  All from someone named Agnes?  All addressed to Gertrude.  

That would be fine, I guess?  

But she screamed when she opened it.  An inhuman sound.  

Like the sound was ripped from her.  

And, I have never cared for a more grounded person.  I have never seen her anything but… well not completely calm all the time, but mostly calm, you know?  I’ve seen her sharp, I’ve seen her annoyed.   Heh, half the time it looks like she wants to judge me, but then doesn’t… if that makes sense?  Mostly she looks… like she knows so much more than I do and that she is calm in her knowledge?  I’ve seen so much as a carer.  There isn’t much that rattles me.  Not death, not illness, not panic, but… but this was different.  

After that… she was shaken badly.  Screamed for what seemed like hours, then just stared at me and said “I’m going into the ground for you.”  I… I couldn’t calm her down.  Not until late evening, and I didn’t even have a break because the relief carer was off sick.  

I finally got her to bed, and… I had to take another look.  That’s when I got a good look at the envelopes.  I… I want to open them.  I haven’t.  I know I shouldn’t…. but…. I want to know what could have shaken her that badly?  Someone that stable and grounded, you know?  

Heh, maybe you could call me back and make sure I don’t do something stupid.  And ya know, let me know that you aren’t’ dead in a ditch.  Tim’s started texting me directly now!  He’s… he’s really worried about you.  

Anyhow, I just need to know-

[BEEP]

[CONTINUED BEEPING]

AUTOMATED VOICE: The voicemail inbox for [Jonathan Sims] is full. Please call again later. 

[DIAL TONE] 

[purplesurveys]

1266

Retaking this survey I took nearly exactly a year ago, which would be around the time of one of the lowest points in my life. A lot has changed and I’m *so much* happier these days, but it doesn’t hurt to revisit and acknowledge the emotions I went through then.

Are you afraid of lifts? 2020: I only feel afraid if I’m the only person riding the elevator. If I ever got locked inside I’d always feel a lot better if there’s at least one other person stuck with me. Otherwise I try not to be too bothered by lifts. 2021: Yeah, as much as possible I would still only get in if someone else was also planning to get in; elevators that are also visibly old and unmaintained tend to scare me away, too. But generally, riding the elevator isn’t a phobia of mine.

Who did you last talk to in person? Is that person attractive? 2020: That would be my mom and yes, I think she’s very attractive. Not in that way of course, but you know what I mean. She looks very young for her age and we always get mistaken as sisters. 2021: My dad. Sure, I think he looks okay.

Have you ever had a deep, personal conversation with a stranger? 2020: As much as possible I don’t like having deep conversations with someone I barely know, but sometimes I can’t escape the situation and I end up being a part of those talks. The nicest conversation I had was with a client during my first internship – he has his own company now, but over breakfast he told me about his struggles, his old unfulfilling 9-5 job, and gave me so much valuable life advice. He was so genuine and so nice and at that time I stopped minding the fact that he was a stranger and I’d most likely never encounter him again. 2021: Ooh I remember that. Yeah, he was lovely to talk to and I definitely have not encountered anyone with stories like his ever since. Anyway, I’ve grown to be a lot more extroverted over the past year so I certainly wouldn’t mind a conversation with a stranger, as long as they haven’t established themselves as a creep or pervert.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your own appearance? Why? 2020: Probably an 8. I don’t have a problem with my physical features for the most part, but I don’t like my front teeth and that my body hair is thicker and grows more quickly than average. Those are the two things that mess with my self-esteem the most, and the two factors that took out the missing two points. 2021: 9. I still have the same points for self-esteem issues; but I’ve embraced them slightly more over the last year.

Who was the last person to send you a message on Facebook? When was the last time you saw that person? 2020: Rita. I probably saw her sometime in early March. Maybe during a board meeting for our org before the lockdown was implemented. 2021: Angela. Sometime mid-July, I think? when we went to the BTS pop-up store together with Reena and Hans. I might see her again next week for her birthday. I have to see her reaction when she opens up the present I plan to get her.

If you decided, at this moment in time, that you were going to make a sandwich, what would you put on it? 2020: Assuming my hypothetical pantry is full, I would go for a southern-style chicken sandwich with chicken breast and spicy mayo. My stomach just rumbled, what have you doneeeeee 2021: Holy shit that sounds so fucking good right now. Can I just steal my own answer? Spicy crunchy chicken sandwiches are the shit.

Are you good at controlling your emotions, or do you tend to let them get the better of you? 2020: It’s 50/50 at best. Sometimes I let self-control win since it’s usually the most responsible choice and it’s also to avoid drama, but there are days where I recognize that self-care is just as important and so I allow myself a healthy release whether the release is one of sadness or resentment or anything else. Repressing my emotions and letting them bubble up over time isn’t healthy, either. 2021: I’m a lot better at it now. I think I have done a lot of growing and maturing and processing over the last year, and I don’t get into dramatic outbursts nor repress my feelings too much anymore. Whenever I feel deeply I let the emotions stay, but I also know when I need to reach out and seek help.

At this moment in time, what do you want the most? 2020: Normalcy. 2021: At this moment in time, I wish I could go back to when I took this survey and reassure the me then that everything was going to turn out absolutely fine. But right now I wish I also had sushi.

How many times have you cried over the person you love/like? 2020: Too many. 2021: I don’t love anyone in that sense.

How exactly are you feeling right now? Why do you feel the way you do? 2020: I haven’t been feeling anything in particular these days. To be honest, I’ve just been doing a lot of…floating around, existing, trying to make it to the end of the day unscathed. I believe I’m feeling this way because there’ve been a lot of major life changes happening and I simply wasn’t prepared to deal with all of them simultaneously. 2021: Jesus Christ that was brutal to read. How the fuck did I...manage? Anyway, right nooooow I feel quite content because a new episode of Run BTS came out and I really enjoyed it!! I also feel cozy because it’s actually quite cold tonight, so it’s making me feel sleepy faster than I would like lol. What’s the relationship status of the last person that put their arms around you? 2020: She’s been married for the last 23 years to my dad. 2021: He’s been married for the last 24 years to my mom.

Has the last person you held hands with, ever told you that they love you? 2020: Yeah. 2021: ^ Gross. But yeah to answer this question in 2021 – yes she has, in a platonic, sisterly way. We say it all the time.

Is there someone you used to hang out with all the time, and now you don’t anymore? If so, do you ever miss that person? Why do you think your relationship changed?   2020: Sure, Sofie’s the first person I thought of because we used to be the best of friends. We simply grew apart when college started, since she studied in Manila and I was all the way in another city. It would’ve been too difficult to keep up the friendship with both of us also starting to have different goals and priorities, as well as new friends. I miss her sometimes, but I’m not desperate to see her anytime soon. I’m sad to see our relationship fizzle out the way it did, but we’re both pretty happy and have been doing well and that’s enough for me. 2021: I stopped hanging out with Aya because she is an abusive piece of shit, and I obviously value my friendship with Jo far more than tolerating an abuser and keeping them around in my life. As for missing her, no, not really. I’ve always found it easy to cut people off and wipe out the positive sentiments I would use to have about a person.

Who was the last person you talked to, whose name started with ‘H’? What color are that person’s eyes? 2020: I don’t know a lot of H people so it was probably Hannah even though I haven’t talked to her in a while. Her eyes are dark brown/black, like nearly every Filipino. 2021: Hans. Same, dark brown/black.

Who was the last person you talked to, whose name started with ‘M’? How did you meet that person? 2020: OMG this was so tough to think about. The only person I can think of is Angela but that’s only because her first name is actually Maria. We met on the first day of 1st grade, back in 2005. I accidentally stabbed her with a newly-sharpened pencil and made her palm bleed, and for some insane reason a lifelong friendship was established that day. 2021: Macky. He’s a coworker but is a couple of positions above me. At first I took issue with my workplace not using honorifics, but when I learned it was a tactic to get everyone comfortable with one another, I soon got used to it.

The person you love/like is offered a job in another country. Would you let them go, or try and convince them to stay? 2020: Let them, because that was what we agreed on. 2021: No matter my feelings towards the situation, I would never interfere and ask them to stay.

Is there anyone you dislike so much, that you actually can’t stand to be around them? 2020: Back in college I hated being anywhere near a frat guy. They all had the same vibe, had the same fashion sense, used the same slang, had the same shitty work ethic so I always knew whenever one was nearby. 2021: One of my uncles, who I believe has COVID literally right now because he refused to get a vaccine. Can’t say I feel awful.

When was the last time you wanted to cry, but didn’t, because you didn’t want to show that you were upset? Why? 2020: I’ve been hiding my emotions and my tears from my family the whole month because we’re not a showy family when it comes to our feelings. We deal with our emotions privately, in our own bedrooms. 2021: Like two weeks ago when my teacher in my Korean classes shared a song recommendation with us and it turned out to be this really emotional, introspective song about dealing with life anxieties. It was beautifully sung and I nearly cried, and the only reason I didn’t was because I was in a virtual class full of strangers and I wasn’t about to start bawling my eyes out in such a situation lol.

If you found out that someone had been talking about you behind your back, would you confront them? 2020: I probably only would if they’ve always been super nice to me to my face but talking shit about me if I’m not around. It would be something I’d want to get into the bottom of. 2021: Depends on who the person is and if I think they’re worth my energy or not.

Which do you think is worse - saying something and then wishing you hadn’t, or not saying something and wishing you had? 2020: I hate nothing more than being too afraid to say something and then never having the space to say it again. That’s the type of regret that stays with me and keeps me up at night. 2021: I still go with the latter.

Do you know anyone who seems almost incapable of showing their emotions? 2020: I wouldn’t say I know anyone exactly like this, but I know of people who have built a great big wall around themselves and are super defensive when it comes to their emotions in a way that you’ll never know if they’re going through something. The first person I thought of was JM. 2021: My dad is extremely unexpressive. I guess I can say I kinda get it - he has to keep up his image as the father of the house and all - but I hope he has his own, healthy ways of processing his emotions, even if they have to be done in private.

What are 3 things that are guaranteed to make you smile, or put you in a good mood? 2020: Good Mythical Morning, seeing my orgmates, and driving. Driving seems to put me in a really good mood these days, though that’s likely because I haven’t had to do it as often as I used to. 2021: BTS, my dogs, and talking to Angela and Reena.

Do you look more like your mum or your dad? 2020: I’m a carbon copy of my mom, I’ve been told more times than I can count. 2021: Well yeah, that hasn’t changed.

When was the last time you saw your grandparents? 2020: I last saw my paternal grandparents in February; with my maternal grandma, two Thursdays ago. I have not seen my maternal grandpa since June or July 2015. 2021: Start of August for my maternal grandma; and I believe it was June when we most recently visited my dad’s parents. I visited my maternal grandpa at his columbarium slot during his birthday last year.

Have you ever felt really attracted to someone, but been deterred because you found out they didn’t have a very nice personality? 2020: No. If I get attracted to someone, that means I’ve already decided that they’re attractive on all fronts, including their attitudes and personality. 2021: ^ That is such a damn lie lmao. I remember getting attracted to this boy Lance from high school and thinking he was so cute and that I should probably try my chances with him...but I immediately got turned off when I noticed how he was slightly immature for his age and I stopped pursuing him immediately.

Have you ever hugged/kissed someone you’d only just met? 2020: Probably when I was out drinking, yes. 2021: ^ That’s true but that only goes for hugging.

Where is the person you would most like to see/be with? 2020: There is no such person. 2021: All my friends and best friends are at home. At least they should be at this hour, lmao.

When was the last time you bought a CD/DVD? Which one was it? 2020: The last CD I bought was Beyoncé’s self-titled album, but I can’t remember if I bought it in late 2013 or early 2014. 2021: ^ 2020-me had no idea :’) Anyway, the last DVD I placed an order for was Map of the Soul ON:E, though I’m not getting that until October. The last thing I was able to successfully receive was my Butter CD set.

Have you ever gone against someone’s advice and then regretted it? 2020: I don’t usually ask my friends for advice since I don’t want to possibly be the jerk that asks for advice but goes against them. I’ve always just gone with whatever I think is best for myself. 2021: I guess I’m still the same as I found myself agreeing to those two sentences.

Would you ever apologize for something that wasn’t your fault? 2020: Welcome to my life. 2021: Before, I used to. I won’t let shit like that pass now.

What’s been the best thing about your day so far? 2020: I’ve done a good share of self-care activities today…I actually got up in bed and have been taking surveys, I ate a lot for breakfast, I took a shower, and fixed myself a cup of coffee. The bar has been set very low since August obviously, but considering I’ve been skipping out on a great deal of activities that used to make me happy, I’m just glad I accomplished several today. It’s the little joys, guys. 2021: Getting good feedback from my boss on a deck I had to work on all day today. Also the new episode of Run BTS, aka my favorite thing about Tuesdays.

Has anyone ever cried in your arms before? 2020: I can only recall one person who’s done this. 2021: Sure.

Who was the last person you talked to, whose name started with ‘C’? Is that person older or younger than you? 2020: Tina, but her full name is Christina so she counts. I keep forgetting she’s a year older than me. 2021: Coco. Yeah, I believe so.

Do you keep a lot of things from your parents? 2020: Yes. They know my good side - my awards, achievements, job prospects, all the shiny stuff they can be proud of. They don’t need to know how mentally fucked their firstborn actually is, because it’s not like they’d know how to deal with all that weight. 2021: Yes.

Who was the last person you confided in? Do you regret it? 2020: Angela. Not at all. She’s been my rock for the last 15 years. 2021: Andi, and no. I trust them with my whole life and then some.

What was the last film you watched, that you hadn’t seen before? What kind of film was it? What did you think of it? 2020: I’m Thinking of Ending Things is a psychological thriller. It’s not for the faint of heart, especially those who’ve been feeling depressed and/or existential lately. It certainly didn’t make me feel good and I wish I could unwatch it, not because it was bad but because it was a bit too triggering. 2021: Be With You; it’s a Korean film that’s mostly romance but with a super super slight tinge of fantasy if you squint your eyes hard enough. I loved it a lot; both the leads are sooooooooo pretty to look at and the kid is a fantastic actor. I also cried a lot, but I do think the ending could’ve been executed better as it felt rushed.

Have you ever had an argument with the last person you hugged/kissed? 2020: Lots. 2021: Nothing more than extremely petty fights, the last of which we had approximately 12 years ago.

Using one word only, describe the day you’ve had so far. 2020: Lonely. 2021: Routine.

[calumcest]

you and i were fireworks that went off too soon - chapter two

[ao3]

yes i finished my essay and was like writing another 6k of fic vs doing all the other work thats due within the next 10 days...Hmm...so here we are

A week passes, and Luke almost succeeds in putting Ashton to the back of his mind. 

He’s preoccupied with other things - the fact that he’s suddenly got three times as much work to do, because Chris has taken a week off to reunite with his soulmate; the fact that his boiler’s broken, and nobody’s around to come and fix it because everyone’s taking a break to try and find their soulmate; the fact that he’s having to stay at Calum’s, because his apartment is doing a great impression of a fridge right now, and that means listening to Michael and Calum’s hushed conversations about him when they think he’s asleep. They’re clearly worried about him, which is kind of sweet, but also makes Luke feel a little pathetic, throwing him back to the days after Ashton left where Michael and Calum would tiptoe around him, frowning at him but saying nothing, as though any words would be the wrong ones. 

Luke goes home from time to time to pick up post and new clothes, and on Sunday, he notices a note has been stuck through his letterbox. It’s stuck to the soggy newspaper that’s been forced through, so the ink’s run and Luke can’t read it anymore. He shrugs and chucks it out with the newspaper, thinking that if it were someone he knew they would have texted him, so it was probably some kind of advertising.

The only topic of conversation in society now is the soulmate tattoos. More and more research is being done, families are being torn apart, brought together, and churches are booked for weddings for the next eighteen months straight. Luke had finally brought himself to ask his parents what their situation was, and they’d smiled, and that was all he’d needed to know. 

Luke had thought it would take him a while to wrap his head around the idea of soulmates, but somehow, it hadn’t. Somehow, seeing the people he knows interact - seeing Michael and Calum interact - it seems like it’s the only logical answer, like there was never anything else they could have been. It sits uncomfortably in Luke’s stomach, because he knows it’s not like that for him and Ashton. Something went wrong with Luke’s tattoo - it wasn’t supposed to be Ashton, he’s sure of that. Or if it was, then maybe it was a sign from the universe that Luke should take a vow of celibacy.

Luke shrugs when he’s asked at work if he knows who his soulmate is. It’s not like he’s lying - he knows who his soulmate was, two years ago, but Ashton’s a stranger to him now. The thought makes Luke feel a little better, if only because it means Luke’s a stranger to Ashton too. Ashton no longer knows him, no longer has power over him, no longer has a grip on Luke’s lungs and heart and mind. 

It’s not until Wednesday evening that Ashton forces himself back to the forefront of Luke’s mind yet again. 

He’s sat on Calum’s sofa, destroying him at MarioKart, when his phone starts buzzing. At first, he ignores it, because getting this win is definitely more important than whatever bullshit Michael’s texting him (last time he paused a game to read a text from Michael it had just been a picture of an orange captioned ‘juicy’), but the buzzing continues, distracting him and making him slip on a banana Calum had thrown in front of him. 

“Fuck’s sake!” Luke yells, when Calum whoops joyfully as he makes it over the finish line a microsecond before Luke. “Fuck you. That wasn’t my fault.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Calum says, turning to him with a smug grin. “What, someone take control of your hands? You got that rat from Ratatouille up in those curls?”

“Remy,” Luke says, without thinking. 

“Huh?”

“The rat,” Luke says. 

“I can’t believe you know that,” Calum says, sounding very much like he can believe Luke knows that. 

“Fuck you,” Luke says again, scowling. “I bet you fucking told Michael to text me just so you could finally win a game.” 

“Michael’s napping, dude,” Calum says, looking somewhat amused. Luke frowns. Nobody texts him except Calum and Michael, and Calum’s right here. So if Michael’s asleep- 

His stomach drops. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he says, fishing his phone out of his pocket and watching the screen light up with the one name he doesn’t want to see. 

Ashton Irwin I’m outside

Ashton Irwin There’s no way you can’t hear this doorbell 

Ashton Irwin Have you moved? 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Luke says, and shoves his phone at Calum. Calum’s eyes widen as he reads, and he huffs out a laugh of disbelief. 

“What the fuck?” he says, sounding as incredulous as Luke feels. “He’s just fucking turned up at your apartment?” Luke nods, suddenly incredibly glad that his boiler’s broken. Ashton just fucking turning up at his place makes his skin crawl, makes him feel incredibly unsafe. 

“How many different ways do I need to tell him to fuck off before he gets the message?” Luke says, and there’s an edge of desperation to his tone that even he can hear. Calum’s expression softens slightly. 

“You can just block him,” he suggests. 

“Well, he’ll just turn up at my fucking apartment again, then, won’t he?” Luke says. 

“You can stay here until it blows over,” Calum offers. Luke loves him. 

“Thanks, Cal,” he says, and he means it with every fibre of his being. “I just- I just want him to go away.” He hopes Calum understands what he means - not just go away from his apartment, but leave Luke’s life again, because it had taken so much of Luke to get over him and rewrite himself after Ashton had broken almost all of him, and every interaction with him is a sickening reminder of how things used to be, who he used to be. He can’t fucking stand it. 

“Want me to talk to him?” Calum says. Luke hesitates, then shakes his head. 

“I don’t want him to think I can’t handle it,” he says. I don’t want him to think he broke me remains unspoken, but hangs between them uncomfortably. 

“Okay,” Calum says, because he understands. He always understands. “Want me to help you draft a reply, then?” Luke nods. 

“Can you call Mikey, too?” he says, and it comes out a little unsure, a little small. Calum’s face softens into a smile. 

“‘Course,” he says, reaching for his phone and unplugging it from where it’s been charging to call Michael. 

Michael picks up after two rings, because it’s Calum, and Luke can see the outline of him in the dark, lying in bed. 

“Hey, love,” Calum says softly, and Luke is suddenly jerked into discomfort, like he’s intruding on a private moment. Calum and Michael haven’t said anything to Luke about their newfound soulmate status, and Luke hasn’t asked, all of them dancing around the topic like talking about it is going to irrevocably change their group dynamic somehow. Luke’s never heard Calum call anyone love, and the names he’s got for Michael are usually more along the lines of dickhead, arsehole, fucker, and it makes Luke realise just how left out he is now, all because of two fucking tattoos. He has to swallow back the jealousy rising in his throat, press down the spike of anger flaring in his stomach. 

“This better be fucking good,” Michael mumbles, muffled by his duvet. 

“Ashton’s outside Luke’s house,” Calum says, and there’s a sudden sound of rustling, and then the light is turned on, Michael squinting and looking somewhere between furious and concerned. 

“That bastard,” he says, which seems to be a bit of a mantra where Ashton’s concerned. “What the fuck? Has Luke called the police?” 

“No,” Luke puts in, although now that Michael mentions it, he thinks he probably should. “He might be gone by now, anyway.” 

“Oh, I forgot you were at Calum’s,” Michael says, even though he’s been complaining about it for, like, four days straight.

“We’re going to draft a response,” Calum tells Michael, who nods. 

“I’ve got one,” he says. “‘Fuck off, you fucking bastard, and also, I’m calling the police on you. Arsehole. Fuck you.’” Calum rolls his eyes, and Luke laughs, letting the warmth of it flood his veins. It helps to know he’s not alone, both in his anger at Ashton and in dealing with the situation. 

“I already told him not to contact me anymore,” he says.

“And he somehow thinks that turning up at your house doesn’t count as contact?” Michael says, in disbelief. 

“Well, either way, he texted you,” Calum points out. 

“So he just doesn’t give a shit,” Michael says. “Right. Got it.” 

“What should I say?” Luke says, with an only-slightly-melodramatic sigh. 

“Tell him to fuck off,” Michael says. 

“Politely,” Calum adds. 

“How do I do that?” Luke says, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Kindly fuck off? Please fuck off?” 

“Keep it business,” Calum suggests. “Keep him at arm’s length, don’t let it get emotional. Talk to him like you’d talk to a client that’s pissing you off.” 

“As per my last communication,” Michael says sarcastically, and Calum and Luke both laugh. 

“I think you’re right,” Luke says. “Keep emotion out of it.” 

“Yeah,” Michael agrees. “Don’t let him think you still care.”

“I don’t.” 

“Yeah, but you know what Ashton’s like,” Michael says. “You could come at him with an axe and he’d interpret it as ‘Luke cares about my existence’.” Luke snorts, feeling a little spiteful and not regretting it at all. 

“How about ‘I don’t feel comfortable with you turning up at my house unannounced’?” Calum says. 

“And ‘I’ve already told you I’m not interested in speaking to you, please stop contacting me’?” Michael adds. Luke nods, typing it out. 

Me I don’t feel comfortable with you turning up at my house unannounced. I’ve already told you I’m not interested in speaking to you, please stop contacting me. 

He reads it out again, and both Michael and Calum nod. 

“Add a ‘you bastard’ at the end,” Michael suggests, and Luke rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, a wave of love and appreciation for Michael and Calum suddenly washing over him. 

He would never have made it through Ashton without them, and he doesn’t think he’d be able to handle Ashton 2.0 without them either. They’re always there, never questioning, never judging, fiercely supportive, and Luke doesn’t know what he did to deserve two such unwaveringly loyal best friends. 

“Thanks, guys,” Luke says, as he presses send, immediately locking his phone and trying to push down the anxiety that bubbles in his stomach as soon as he sees the words turn blue. “For everything.”

“Of course,” Michael says gently. 

“Always, Luke,” Calum says sincerely. 

Luke thinks that just maybe, with Michael and Calum at his side, he can get through this. 

 -------

 It turns out Ashton and Luke have wildly differing definitions of please stop contacting me. Luke thinks it means ‘don’t speak to me anymore’, and Ashton thinks it means ‘wait a day before trying again’. 

Luke’s on his lunch break when his phone buzzes. Knowing better than to just assume it’s Michael or Calum now, he fishes it out of his pocket with trepidation. It’s Ashton, his name white against the black of the screen with the green swipe to answer button staring back at Luke. 

If he doesn’t answer, Ashton will just try again. If he answers and shouts at Ashton to fuck off, Ashton will know that Luke’s not capable of being cordial with him, that Ashton had hurt him so much that it still stings two years later. So, sighing, Luke swipes on the answer button, and lifts the phone to his ear with a resigned, and slightly pissed off, “What?”

“Hi,” Ashton says, and it still makes Luke feel a little sick. There’s something jarring about hearing the same voice that used to call him baby, sweetheart, gorgeous, now miles away on the other end of a staticky phone line, strange and unknown. 

“I told you not to contact me anymore,” Luke says, and it comes out a little weary. 

“I know,” Ashton says, and he has the grace to sound guilty. 

“Right. So you’re just choosing to ignore that?” 

“No, I-” Ashton cuts himself off, and there’s a moment of silence before he takes a deep breath. “I really think we should talk.” 

“I’ve told you,” Luke says, for what must be the thirtieth time, “I don’t want to talk. I have nothing to say to you.” 

“I do, though,” Ashton says. 

“I don’t want to hear it.” 

“Then why did you pick up?” 

“Because you’d just fucking turn up at my house again, or something,” Luke says. “Which, by the way, is really fucking creepy. Like, it made me feel really unsafe. Michael wanted me to call the police.”  

“I know,” Ashton says, and he actually sounds sincere. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Luke does a double take. Ashton, apologising? 

“Right,” Luke says, a little nonplussed, because he was expecting a justification, an excuse, not an apology. That’s not really Ashton’s style. “Well. Don’t do it again. I won’t hesitate to get a restraining order.” 

“Okay,” Ashton says, and then, without missing a beat: “Can I take you out for dinner?” Luke’s mouth falls open. 

“Are you fucking insane?” Luke says, too incredulous to be angry. “How many different ways do I have to say ‘I want nothing to do with you’ until you get the message?” 

“We really should talk about what this means,” Ashton presses. “Like. We’re soulmates, now.” The words twist deep in Luke’s gut, and he swallows back the queasy feeling rising in his throat. 

“What if we always were?” he bites out, and he can’t help the bitterness that drips out with the words. They’re met with an uncomfortable silence, and Luke feels a stab of spiteful glee. 

“I want to talk about it,” Ashton says finally, which doesn’t answer Luke’s question. “Please. Just one dinner. And then I promise I’ll leave you alone.” 

Luke tips his head back against the wall, letting his eyes flutter shut. 

On the one hand, he wants Ashton to fuck off and leave him alone, indefinitely. He wants to go back to forgetting Ashton, to living a life without him and to uncomfortable first dates and fumbling hookups. He wants to pretend his tattoo doesn’t exist, to be able to choose who he loves rather than be assigned someone to love, someone he already tried to love and worked hard to stop loving. 

On the other hand, he knows that Ashton won’t leave him alone until he gives him what he wants. Sure, he might relent for a few months, but Luke will always have that knot of anxiety in his stomach every time he gets a text, every time the doorbell rings, and one dinner might be worth giving himself peace of mind. 

“I’ll think about it,” Luke says eventually. “But just for the record, the fact I have to do what you want before you respect my wishes is doing you absolutely no favours.” 

“I know,” Ashton says heavily, like he’s fucking sad about it, or something. Luke doesn’t think Ashton has it in him to consider Luke’s feelings. “Thank you.” 

“I didn’t say yes.” 

“I know,” Ashton says again. Luke grits his teeth and bites back the fuck you that’s on the tip of his tongue, chanting Calum’s words to himself: keep him at arm’s length, don’t let it get emotional. I’ll think about it isn’t a yes, whatever Ashton wants to tell himself. 

“Fine,” Luke says, after he’s taken a moment to collect himself, cool, calm, professional. “I’ll get back to you when I’ve had time to think. Don’t contact me in the meantime.” 

“Okay,” Ashton says. 

“Good,” Luke says, and hangs up before Ashton has a chance to respond. 

Jesus fucking Christ, he thinks, exhaling heavily and staring at the grey clouds gathering above him and throwing a silent curse out at the universe, just in case it can suddenly read thoughts, for saddling him with this fucking situation. Ashton Irwin might very well be the death of him, for a second time. 

 ------- 

 Luke completely forgets that he’d told Ashton he’d consider going to dinner with him until Calum tentatively brings him up the following Tuesday. 

“Did Ashton ever say anything to your message?” he asks, scratching behind Duke’s ears, and Luke blinks at him. 

“Did I not tell you?” he says, surprised. He’s not sure how the entire conversation with Ashton slipped his mind for almost an entire week, but he supposes that’s what happens when he doesn’t care about someone. 

“No?” Calum says, equally surprised, as though he hadn’t expected Luke to have heard anything. Luke fucking wishes. 

“He rang me the next day,” Luke says, and Calum frowns, hand stilling on Duke’s back. Duke turns and gives Calum a reproachful look, and Calum starts petting him again absent-mindedly. “Asked me to meet him for dinner.” Calum gapes at him. 

“Are you serious?” he says, in disbelief. 

“I know,” Luke agrees. 

“Jesus,” Calum says, sounding almost in awe of Ashton’s shamelessness. “Was he this delusional when you were together?” Luke laughs, and shrugs. “What’d he say when you said no?” Luke hesitates, biting his lip. 

“I told him I’d think about it,” Luke says after a moment, and Calum’s eyes widen. 

“Luke,” he says, and it’s careful, worried, and Luke hates it. 

“Look, I know,” he says, before Calum can say something like Ashton nearly killed you last time, are you sure this is a good idea? “I know, Cal, okay? I just- I need him to leave me alone.” Calum frowns again. 

“What, and he’s trying to force your hand by making him leaving you alone conditional on you going out to dinner with him?” he says. Luke nods. “What a cunt.” 

“I know,” Luke says. “I think he’d leave me alone if I said no, but I think I’d be jumping every time I got a text. I’d rather just have one dinner with him and know that’s it.” Calum’s frown doesn’t leave his face, but he nods slowly. 

“Okay,” he says. “If it’s for your own peace of mind.” 

“It is,” Luke says, exhaling heavily and slumping back on Calum’s sofa. 

“So you’re going?” 

“I don’t know,” Luke says. “I haven’t thought about it.” 

“You don’t have to,” Calum says, and it’s gentle, supportive. “We can go to the police, say he’s harassing you. We can get a restraining order.” 

“I don’t want to go through that,” Luke says, carding a hand through his hair, a little stressed at the idea. It sounds a little extreme, and a lot expensive.

“Okay,” Calum says easily. “Whatever you want to do, Luke. You know I’ll support whatever decision you make.” Luke smiles, small and genuine.

“Thanks, Cal,” he says. 

“I can’t promise Michael will, though,” Calum adds, and Luke snorts. 

“No, probably not,” he says. 

 -------

 “You said what?” Michael sounds absolutely outraged at the very idea. 

“I said I’d think about it,” Luke repeats. Michael folds his arms. 

“And you’ve thought about it, and you’re going to say no, right?” Luke hesitates, and that’s enough for Michael to make a noise of exasperation and roll his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Luke. You’re not going for dinner with fucking Ashton.” 

“Who are you, my fucking mum?” Luke says, a little irritably. Michael’s expression softens a little at the barbs hidden in Luke’s words. 

“I just don’t want-” he starts, but Luke cuts him off with a shake of his head. 

“I know, Mike,” he says, because he does, he knows, and he doesn’t need to hear it. “I’m twenty-fucking-six, mate. I can make my own decisions.” Michael looks torn, like he half-wants to yell at Luke (which, frankly, he probably does), but then he sighs. 

“Fine,” he says, sounding very much like it’s not fine. “Are you going to go?” Luke shrugs. 

“I haven’t thought about it yet,” he says. Michael gives him a hard look, and looks like he wants to say something else, but then Calum comes back from the kitchen, Duke in his wake, and sets himself down between the two of them. 

“Play nice, you two,” he says warningly, but he’s only looking at Michael. Luke feels a touch smug about that. 

“Fuck you,” Michael says, reaching for one of the bags of popcorn Calum’s brought through from the kitchen. Duke gets on his hind legs and paws at the sofa, gazing at Michael beseechingly, and Michael almost absent-mindedly reaches down to pick him up and put him in his lap. Duke settles down comfortably, resting his head on Michael’s thigh and blinking at Calum and Luke calmly. Something about the familiarity of the interaction makes Luke’s heart ache a little bit.

“Whose turn is it to pick a movie tonight?” Calum asks, reaching for the other two bags of popcorn and tossing one at Luke. 

“Mine,” Michael says. 

“No it’s not,” Luke says. “It’s mine.”

“Yeah, but your taste in movies is so shit that I’m vetoing your turn,” Michael says. Luke squawks indignantly. 

“What?” he says, incensed. “My taste is fucking fine, thank you very much.” 

“He kind of has a point,” Calum says, nodding solemnly at Luke. Luke scowls. 

“Fuck you,” he says, ripping open his popcorn. “Just because you’re fucking soulmates now doesn’t mean you get to gang up on me.” As soon as he’s said it, the atmosphere changes; Calum and Michael exchange a glance, before looking back at Luke. 

“We should probably talk about that,” Michael says carefully, and Luke groans, pinching the bridge of his nose with salty, buttery fingers. Gross. 

“Can we not?” he says, wiping his nose with his sleeve to avoid looking at either of them. “Please, just for one fucking night, let me forget the whole soulmate thing exists.” Calum and Michael both hesitate, and then Calum shoots Michael another quick look and nods at Luke. 

“Okay,” he says. “But your taste in movies is still shitty.” 

Luke throws a cushion at him.

 ------- 

 On Sunday night, at two in the morning, Luke types out a single word. 

Me Ok. 

He presses send, turns airplane mode on, and goes to sleep. 

 -------

 Luke completely forgets that he’d turned airplane mode on on Monday morning until he gets on the train and tries to load Twitter. When he turns it off, messages start popping in, so fast that he can’t read them before the next one arrives. Most of them are from the group chat with Michael and Calum, some argument about whether twenty-four hour time is better or worse than twelve-hour, and he’s got one from his dad asking how he’s doing, and - the reason he’d turned airplane mode on in the first place - one from Ashton. 

Ashton Irwin Thank you. 8pm tonight, Zahli?

Luke bites his lip, staring out of the window as he thinks for a moment.  

Me Ok. 

 ------- 

 He doesn’t tell Calum until after lunch. 

“I said yes,” he says, as casually as possible, staring at his nails like they’re the most interesting thing in the world. They’re kind of disgusting, actually. “Hey, do you have a nail file at home?” 

“When are you seeing him?” Calum asks. “And yeah, in the cupboard under the sink in the upstairs bathroom. Have you tried calling about the boiler again?” Luke nods, picking at his thumbnail with his index finger. 

“Yeah, they said they wouldn’t be back for another week,” he says. Calum pulls a face. 

“You’re paying my water bill this month,” he says. “You take as long in one shower as I do in ten.” 

“Why should I pay for your lack of hygiene?” Luke says. 

“Fuck you, I’m hygienic,” Calum says. “And at least I know how to pick up towels.” 

“Hey, I’m getting better,” Luke says. “I hang them up now.” Calum rolls his eyes. 

“Stuffing them into the towel warmer is not hanging them up,” he says. 

“It’s better than leaving them on the floor, though,” Luke points out, ripping a bit of his thumbnail off. 

“Oh, what, so I should praise you for doing less than the bare minimum because it could be worse?” 

“I mean, a little thanks wouldn’t go amiss,” Luke says, grinning at Calum. Calum scoffs, and rolls his eyes again. 

“You’re the worst housemate I’ve ever had,” he tells Luke. 

“You’ve never had a housemate.” 

“I have now,” Calum says, pointing at him, “and you’re the worst one.” 

“Well, then by definition I’m also the best,” Luke says, biting at the edge of his thumbanil. Calum scowls, and flips him off. 

“When are you seeing Ashton?” Calum asks, which Luke’s kind of torn on, because on the one hand, Calum changing the subject means Luke’s won, but on the other hand, the subject he’s gone for is Ashton. 

“Tonight,” Luke mumbles, around a mouthful of thumb. 

“Tonight?” Calum repeats, and Luke nods. “Okay. Where?” 

“Zahli.” Calum raises his eyebrows. 

“He’ll try to pay,” he says. “Don’t let him.” Luke rolls his eyes. 

“Obviously not,” he says, because he’s not an idiot. 

“What are you going to wear?” Luke stops. He hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I don’t know,” he says, with a shrug. “Probably just my work clothes.” Calum looks him up and down, nodding thoughtfully. 

“Good choice,” he says. “You look good, so you’ll be showing him you’re alright without him, but not so good that he’ll think you’ve put in effort to impress him.” 

“True,” Luke says, because he’s well beyond pretending that he’s not analysing the situation this deeply himself. 

“I wonder what he wants to talk about,” Calum muses, tapping a pen against his chin. 

“Probably, like, how successful his band is, how many guys he’s fucked since me, how happy he’s been,” Luke says, a little spiteful and a little bitter. 

“You’ve been successful,” Calum points out. “You’ve fucked guys since him. You’ve been happy.” 

“I know,” Luke says, but there’s a little twisting in his stomach, because he’s always felt so fucking inferior to Ashton. It feels like he has something to prove since the breakup, like he has to show both Ashton and himself that he’s better now than the iteration of Luke Ashton knew had been. 

“You don’t have to do it,” Calum says, clearly seeing the uncertainty written all over Luke’s face. “You can still back out.” Luke shakes his head. 

“Not now that I’ve said yes,” he says. “He’ll read into it.” 

“So let him,” Calum says, with a shrug. He doesn’t get it - he never cares what other people think, especially not people he doesn’t care about. Luke can’t stop caring what people think about him, especially people he used to care about. 

“I can’t,” Luke says. “It’ll be fine. It’ll be, like, an hour, tops. And then I never have to speak to or see him again.” A weight of relief settles in his stomach at the mere thought, that in six hours everything will be over and his life can return to how it was six months ago. 

“Thank fuck for that,” Calum says, and Luke can’t help but heartily agree. 

 -------

 Luke’s at Zahli at eight on the dot, and, because they hadn’t talked about whether they’d wait outside or go in, decides to head inside on his own. His stomach is a bundle of nerves, tension and anxiety settled into every cell of his body, because this will be the first time he’s seen Ashton in two years. The last time he’d seen Ashton, Ashton had been his, and Luke had been a wreck. It’s embarrassing to think back to, that someone he barely even knows now has seen him like that, at his most vulnerable, so Luke orders a glass of red wine to try and take his mind off it. 

He’s forcing himself to be engrossed in the food menu when Ashton sits down. 

“Hi,” Ashton says, voice clear and low, and Luke looks over his food menu at him. 

It feels like déjà-vu, if déjà-vu involved feeling suddenly sick and defenceless and pathetic. Ashton looks almost the same as the last time Luke had seen him, minus the stressed expression on his face, and maybe with a few more crow’s feet. His golden curls have been dyed black, tucked behind his ear besides the one strand he never could control, and Luke hates that he remembers that. 

“Hi,” Luke says, proud of how steady and cool it comes out. 

“You look good,” Ashton comments, after an awkward moment. 

“This isn’t a date,” Luke says. 

“I know.” 

“Good.” Luke turns back to his menu, palms sweating, heart racing, and tries to focus on the words on the page. 

“Have you ordered?” 

“Obviously not,” Luke says, because he’s got the fucking menu in his hand. 

“Oh, right.” Luke rolls his eyes privately, but says nothing, and then the waiter’s coming over and Luke’s just pointing to the first thing he sees on the page and smiling politely. The waiter, however, then takes the menus away from both of them, and Luke’s left with nothing to hide behind, and has to look at Ashton. 

He’s dressed nicely, in a long-sleeved black lace shirt, and he’s got a few more rings on his fingers than the last time Luke had seen him. He’s still just as muscular - maybe even a little more - and his hazel eyes look a little older, blinking at Luke from behind dark lashes. Luke feels so queasy at the sight of him, almost exactly the same but somehow so fucking different, feels the echoes of the worthlessness and emptiness he’d felt in Ashton’s wake squeezing at his lungs, and wills himself not to throw up. 

“So,” Ashton says, after a long, uncomfortable silence. Luke’s not sure whether he wants to yell at Ashton, cry, leave, or die. Dying currently sounds like the most enticing option of the lot.

“Talk,” Luke says curtly. Ashton blinks. 

“Can you at least be cordial with me?” he says. Luke stares at him. What the fuck makes Ashton think he’s deserved that?

“Talk,” he repeats, because he doesn’t trust himself not to fly off the handle if he says anything non-monosyllabic. Ashton sighs, and looks down at his hands. 

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath. “I want to apologise.” 

“Right.” 

“Can I- can I just say this without you interrupting?” 

Luke hesitates, then nods. Biting remarks aren’t part of the ‘keep him at arm’s length, don’t let it get emotional’ routine, anyway. It won’t hurt to let Ashton say his piece.

“Thank you.” Ashton takes another deep breath. “I want to apologise. I know how I left-” he winces “-was pretty cold, pretty brutal. I’m sorry for that. I’ve given it a lot of thought over the last two years, and I regret it. Like. A lot. I missed you. A lot. I wanted to get back in contact with you, but I knew- I knew you wouldn’t want to hear from me. And then the tattoo came, and I- I didn’t look at it, for a few days, because when I looked at what everyone was saying online, I knew it would be you.” He pauses, eyes flicking back to Luke, like he’s gauging his reaction. Luke, though, is sitting still, emotionless, face blank. He’s not giving Ashton any satisfaction. “And then I looked, and it was. And I knew I had to be yours, but you didn’t say anything.” The pause is longer this time, an invitation for Luke to speak.

“Okay,” Luke says, because he doesn’t really have anything else to say. 

“I- it’s not just the tattoo, Luke,” Ashton says, and Luke never wants to hear his name coming from Ashton’s lips again. “It’s you. I regretted it the minute I left, but I couldn’t go back to you, not knowing what I did. How I did it. I- When I heard about the tattoos, I knew it was going to be you. It’s always been you.” 

Luke kind of wants to laugh. Two years ago, these are the exact words he wanted to hear from Ashton. It was a mistake, I’m sorry, I love you, it’s only you - those words bounced around his head in different fantasies for months on end. Now, though, he feels nothing, and that’s the biggest success Luke thinks he’s ever had in his life. He’s sitting across from the person that took him the closest to the edge, and he feels nothing. It makes him feel powerful, feel in control, and he relaxes a little. Ashton’s apologising to him, opening up to him. Luke’s not giving anything away.

“You fell out of love with me,” Luke says, and it’s not accusing, it’s not emotional. It’s calm, rational, matter-of-fact. 

“I thought I did,” Ashton says, and he opens his mouth to speak but then the waiter comes, handing them their dishes with a smile. Luke throws a smile at him, but Ashton barely glances at him. There’s an awkward silence as the waiter asks if they want any pepper, and Luke says yes please, and they have to wait for the waiter to bring it over and then for Luke to say stop. Luke lets it go on a little longer than maybe strictly necessary, childishly enjoying the way Ashton’s squirming in his seat, and then thanks the waiter with a brilliant smile, just to drive home the point of how friendly he can be with people that aren’t Ashton. 

“I thought I did,” Ashton repeats, when the waiter’s finally gone and Luke’s tucking into his potatoes. “That’s why I left. I thought I didn’t love you anymore, and then I actually had to live without you, and I realised it was just because we were settling into a familiar love. I just couldn’t handle the commitment, and it made me block you out.” Luke raises an eyebrow, but keeps eating, and Ashton sighs. 

“Look,” he says. “I- I know I fucked up. Badly. But I didn’t need a tattoo to tell me that. I already knew what the tattoo confirmed. I’d-” he swallows. “I’d really like the opportunity to have a second chance.” Luke sets his fork down at that, and sits back in his chair. 

“Do you know what you did to me?” he says, calm and even. Ashton just stares at him, which Luke takes as a no, so he goes on. “You left me feeling like I was worthless. I spent months in therapy, and even longer crying on Calum and Michael’s shoulders every night. I couldn’t be alone. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe because everything was you.” He pauses, weighing up his next words. “You left, and I was left behind. I had to work hard to fall out of love with you. That was your choice, not mine. I would probably never have stopped loving you if you’d let me. But you moved on, and so I had to as well. And the consequence of your choice, your actions, is that I don’t love you anymore. I don’t feel anything for you anymore. I’m only here to get you to leave me alone.” Ashton looks a little sick when Luke finishes. 

“And the fact we’re soulmates doesn’t mean anything to you?” he says, his voice cracking slightly on the word ‘soulmates’. Luke shrugs. 

“No,” he says. “I don’t want to be with you. I don’t care who else you fuck. I don’t care who else you love. I don’t care about you anymore, Ashton.” Ashton swallows, and nods. 

“I guess I deserve that,” he says, and Luke can’t help but huff out a laugh. 

“You kind of do,” he says, but it’s not unkind. Ashton sighs, and rakes a hand through his hair. 

“I thought you’d be more open to the idea,” he admits, taking Luke aback a little with his honesty. 

“You don’t know me anymore,” Luke says. “Don’t kid yourself that you do. I’m not the same person you left behind.” 

“Doesn’t it bother you, though? That we’re supposed to be together?”

“I guess sometimes the universe gets it wrong,” Luke says, with a shrug. “We tried, and it didn’t work.” 

“It might work now that I know how to love you properly,” Ashton says. 

“I’m not going to give you a second chance based on a ‘maybe’,” Luke says. Ashton stares at him for a moment, and then nods, tight-lipped and unhappy. For the first time, Luke feels a little sorry for him. He’s not even touched his food. 

“Can I see it?” Ashton asks, after a moment. 

“It’s on my back,” Luke says. “It’s your bird tattoo, carrying a drumstick in its mouth with one of your moons in the background.” Ashton nods again, but it’s absent-minded, almost numb.

“That sounds beautiful,” he says. 

“It is,” Luke says. 

“Mine’s a daisy chain wrapped around a microphone,” Ashton says. 

“That’s my favourite flower,” Luke says, without thinking, and Ashton nods. Of course, Ashton already knew that. Luke remembers the conversation; Ashton laughing at him (“Daisies can’t be your favourite flower, Luke, that’s fucking stupid.”), his defensiveness (“Fuck you, they’re cute.”), chucking a cushion at a giggling Ashton’s head. 

“It’s on my tricep,” Ashton says, even though Luke hadn’t asked. 

“Mine’s on my shoulderblade.” Ashton nods, and they lapse into silence. Luke’s finished his food, and Ashton’s not even glanced at his, which is stopping the waiter from coming back to clear their plates away. 

“We should probably pay,” Luke says, when the silence stretches on for so long that he thinks it might be Tuesday already. 

“Okay,” Ashton says, and he sounds kind of sad. Luke flags down the waiter, who asks Ashton if there was a problem with the food, and an awkward conversation ensues in which Ashton smiles at the waiter and tells him no, he just doesn’t feel well, but his friend had really enjoyed the food, and Luke watches as the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. The waiter asks if they want to split the bill or pay as one, and Luke jumps in and says they want to split it before Ashton can make one final grand romantic gesture, or whatever. The waiter nods, coming back (much to Luke’s relief) in record time with the card machine and two bills. Luke and Ashton pay, thank the waiter, and then fumble with their coats as they get up and head out into the temperate November night. 

“So,” Ashton says, when they get out of the restaurant. “I guess this is it.” Luke nods. 

“This is it,” he says. 

“I had a nice evening,” Ashton says, and Luke can’t help but laugh. 

“No, you didn’t,” he says. Ashton half-smiles. 

“Okay, no I didn’t,” he admits. “But I did enjoy seeing you again.” Luke nods, not really sure how to take that. 

“Good luck with everything,” he says. 

“You too,” Ashton says. Luke smiles at him, and it’s a real smile, partially fuelled by relief, and partially by something he can’t quite put his finger on. 

“Get home safe,” Luke says, because he can’t say ‘see you’, since he’s sincerely hoping not to. 

“You too,” Ashton says again. Luke nods, offers him one last smile, and then turns on his heel and walks away. 

His shoulderblade tingles as he goes, and there’s an odd edge of sadness to his relief, but he doesn’t stop or look back.

taglist: @glitterlukey @hey-its-grey 

chapter three

[written-on-the-trees]

Strawberry Necklace Part 8 - Yungblud Fan Fiction

Word Count: 1925 words.

Warnings: None, for this part. Smut, fem-dom, and prostitution for the whole story.

Summary: Nova explains to her sister about her relationship with Dom...but it turns out Stella isn’t the only one who’s interested.

Where else can you find this:  Ao3  |  Wattpad

Part Seven  |  Part Nine

"So...strawberry necklace boy."

 "Hi Stella. Yes, I'm well, thank you. I got you a latte - no, no, there's no need to thank me." Nova replied blithely, ignoring every unspoken question she'd just been asked and smirking at her sister, who was glaring at her from the chair she'd just dropped into.

 "Nova!" Stella whined: "Stop it! You got a boyfriend, and you're trying to talk to me about coffee. Seriously!"

   Nova just laughed.

 Stella glared and bunched up a napkin and threw it at her hand, but that only made Nova laugh harder at her sister's annoyance.

 It was tempting to keep annoying Stella by evading her questions - both because it was amusing and because talking about Dom was going to be awkward as hell - but her sister would probably move onto throwing heavier objects at some point, and Nova didn't want to get kicked out of another coffee shop. So instead of being a bitch, she shrugged and gestured for Stella to ask her questions.

   Of course, Stella already had a whole load of them - which she had apparently written in her notes app, if the way she started reading off of her phone was any indication: "Right, firstly...is he still treating you right?"

 "Stella, it's been two days since we decided to see each other outside of work - "

 "It's important!" Stella insisted.

 "Yeah...Yeah, he's still treating me right." Nova smiled softly. Because even if it had just been two days, so far everything had been good. Better than good, in fact.

   Stella nodded, apparently satisfied by what was probably a ridiculously sappy expression on Nova's face.

 It was hard not to look a bit sappy; Dom might have left last night, after getting his own text messages about who the hell was on his Instagram story and demands to explain himself from his housemates, but that didn't mean he hadn't made his presence felt this morning. She'd woken up to a really cute text message, and a delivery man knocking on her door to hand over a bouquet of all different kinds of pink flowers.

 Maybe it was just the honeymoon period, but that didn't stop her from feeling like he was amazing.

   "Good. Secondly, are you two dating now? Just seeing each other? Engaged? Planning to elope to Vegas next week? Where are you at? Am I going to be an auntie soon?"

   Nova choked on the sip of tea she'd just taken.

   "Jesus Christ Stella!" she spluttered: "Dating! We are dating! There are absolutely no plans for marriage or children at this point."

 "You sure?"

 "Yes!"

 Stella smirked: "Because I know you have a tendency to announce things via Dom's Instagram..."

 Nova glared and jabbed a finger at her sister: "Fuck off, it happened once."

 Little shit that she was, Stella just laughed: "Speaking off announcing things, have you told anyone else yet?"

 "I didn't mean to tell you. Fucking Sinead and her fucking Instagram." Nova sighed half-heartedly, bearing no actual ill-will to either her niece of her social media: "But no, I haven't told anyone - honestly I only plan on even telling mum, dad, and Orion because I don't want Dom thinking they won't approve of him."

   It was entirely true.

 Nova's relationship with her parents and younger brother was...strained at best. Her parents might be former hippies, but they were judgemental pricks, and Orion had some sort of youngest-child-and-only-boy inferiority complex that meant he was always looking for ways to prove he was 'better' than Nova and Stella. In truth, they probably wouldn't approve of her seeing Dom, but that disapproval would be focused on her, not him; because that was what they did. Disapproved of her.

 She got it; no-one really wanted a dominatrix for a daughter, but it had started getting old around five years ago, and by now she was completely over it. She knew her parents loved her, but they just didn't approve, and though they certainly weren’t afraid to show that, Nova didn't really care anymore. It was old news, as far as she was concerned, and Stella knew all of that, so she was quick to move on to her next question, because there was simply nothing else there to cover.

   "Speaking of family, Sinead thinks you're literally the coolest person in the family now." Stella rolled her eyes: "She's not shut up talking to me about how cool you are because you're dating this famous rockstar, and now she's somehow got Ciara and Finn on board, so you're going to be very popular this Christmas."

 Amused by Stella obviously being put out by her daughter's favouritism, Nova smirked: "I mean, I was already the coolest person in the family, but it's nice to finally have it recognised."

 "Go fuck yourself." Stella responded casually, taking a sip of her latte: "They've all been keeping it really secret, but are you and Dom keeping it a quiet? Sinead's really nervous about letting it slip if she shouldn't."

 "We haven't really spoken about it. From what I can tell, he's never been hugely obvious when he's dating someone, but he doesn't go to many lengths to hide it either. He seemed more worried by my family not liking us dating than anyone else, but for now..."

 Stella nodded in understanding: "Sinead and Ciara can keep it quiet a bit longer. I'm not entirely sure Finn actually knows who Yungblud is, or even if it's the same person that you're dating, so there's no risk there."

   Nova wouldn't lie and say that she was relieved that the girls wouldn't say anything yet. She didn't want to fuck anything up for Dom, which meant she'd have to take his lead on whether anything went further than their families.

 In any case, it might not be a problem. If they tried dating and it didn't work, then it was probably better that it wasn't widely known that they'd been together at all. Dom wouldn't need the questions, and Nova wouldn't need the attention - it would be much better not to have the whole world know about them if there wasn't actually a them. Besides, she wasn't trying to be flippant, Nova had other things on her mind than Dom's Instagram followers.

 She was thinking of quitting her job.

 It wasn't because of Dom...she was just getting tired of being a dominatrix. She'd been doing it since she was twenty-one - not to mention the two years she'd worked in a brothel before that - and she was thirty-two now. It was boring. She was bored of her clients - with the exception of Dom, of course - she was bored of her lack of a real social life, and she was bored of the constant effort to try and look like she was in her early twenties because looks were a huge part of attracting and keeping clients.

 To put it simply...she was bored out of her mind. If she was being honest with herself, she'd admit that she had been for a while, but now she was dating someone - with the intention that the dating would turn into a relationship - Nova was wondering if it was time to move on. The only thing that was stopping her was...not knowing what she was going to do if she did pack it all in.

 Unfortunately, there was no easy answer to that. And so she wasn't going to dwell on it while she was having coffee with Stella.

 Instead, they carried on speaking about Dom, for a little while. Stella was insistent on getting the chance to meet him, but Nova warned her that it wasn't going to be for a while. She wanted to see if they made it past a month yet - if they did, then she would think about him and Stella meeting, since Stella lived so close. About the rest of the family, Nova wasn't sure, but she was sure that she wasn't in any rush for him to meet them, so that was fine for now. After that the conversation turned to a few other bits and pieces, before Stella had to leave to get Finn from school.

 Nova made sure to hug her sister tightly, a silent thank you for so open to Dom being a part of Nova's life, while still wanting to make sure he was good for her, before both of them left together, walking to the tube station together before going to their separate platforms. Nova had every intention of just going back to her flat and making the most of having no clients today, knowing she had and appointment with one of her less preferred customers tomorrow, when a text message from an unsaved number dropped down from the top of her phone screen, interrupting the news article she was reading while waiting for the train.

 An unsaved number, not an unknown one.

   What the fuck does she want?

   The text message itself was uselessly vague - messages from Nova's 'boss' always were. The old woman didn't like to put anything even potentially incriminating in writing. If she had something to say about business, she'd say it over the phone or (as she preferred) in person.

 And it seemed she had something to say.

   Meet me at your house. Five o'clock.

   Nova cursed internally.

 Helen Birch was a woman of few words, but somehow she always managed to make every single one of them feel like they were weighted down with lead. Maybe it was from years of experience, both as a dominatrix and a madam (although she would never admit to being the latter), or maybe it was just her personality, but either way it made reading her texts feel like being threatened...although in this case, it was potentially because Nova was being threatened. Not explicitly, of course, but nothing good ever came from such blunt commands from Helen.

 Sighing, Nova slid her phone into her handbag and boarded the train that had just opened its doors in front of her.

 The way she saw it, she now had two choices.

 One, ignore the message. It would piss Helen off, and likely only invite more arsey text messages. Helen didn't actually employ Nova - that would suggest there were contracts and paperwork and physical evidence - but did own the house Nova rented to work in, and she also took a cut of some of the money Nova got from some clients, if those clients were direct to Nova from her. And over the years she had sent Nova a lot of clients. She'd really helped Nova find her feet as a dominatrix, providing not just clients but also good advice and help when Nova needed it.

 Basically, it would be really rude to go with choice one.

 Choice two, however, was doing what Helen told her. And that...that set a bad precedent. Helen wasn't her boss, and Nova didn't have to go when Helen called. If Helen wanted to tell Nova something, she could ask Nova if she could meet like a normal person. Nova didn't want to give in and make Helen think that she could command Nova to do as she wished, whenever she wished.

 But if she didn't go with choice two, she'd have to wait longer to find out what Helen wanted. And more than anything else, Nova wanted to know why she was being summoned to her workplace.

   Looks like I'll be going to work after all.

    Whatever happened...it should at least be interesting.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

This is the Life: Seven

“Penny Lane,” an authoritative voice behind you says, “put your hands behind your head and get down on the ground. You’re under arrest!” 

You stop and kneel slowly, hands going behind your head. Penny Lane. A name you hadn’t used in a little while. You don’t protest. You don’t move or speak. You take a deep breath and sink slowly to your knees, saying a quiet prayer to any god that hasn’t given up on you.

A red haired woman puts cuffs on your wrists, “HYDRA is coming,” she said in your ear, “Trust us.”

You don’t have time to respond. You’re vaguely aware of being read your rights. You’re too focused on breathing. Trying to manage the sudden fear and anxiety racing through you, reining in the sudden rush of power and forcing it down as they put you in the back of a police car.

Bucky glances at you in the mirror and smiles sympathetically, “Penny Lane, huh?”

You shrug, “It was better than Tulip... Worked better when I was running guns.”

“Jesus,” Nat snorted, “Tulip?”

“I’ve named myself twice now... Still named myself better than my parents,” you sigh.

Bucky smiled a little. He liked your sense of humor. It was dry. A little dark. You’d told him once that “That which did not make you quit this field tended to give you a fucked-up sense of humor.” Then told him about finding a client calmly sitting on their bed holding their own eyes when you did rounds in med school.

He could see your point. 

Now though, you were pale with the effort it took you to keep yourself in check. The little bit of talking you had done had set the both on edge. Bucky could tell just looking at Natasha that she’d become a believer. Steve, Tony, and Bruce thought that it was an exaggeration, the things Bucky had said he’d felt when you spoke. The trepidation and the feeling of being in the presence of a power greater than themselves.

Nat had reached towards her gun and Bucky caught her eye and shook his head. If you wanted them dead, they would be. 

“Sorry,” you say in a whisper, “It’ll get. Less. Soon.”

Bucky nodded, “I know. Just hold on. We’ll put you somewhere you can decompress when we get to the tower. Before we get the paperwork done,”

“Paperwork?” you ask, barely moving your lips.

“We’re making you our psych department,” Nat answered, exhaling slowly.

Bucky watches your eyes get more luminously red and the cracks start to surface on your skin, “Y/N,” Bucky tries gently, “Stay with me. We’ll explain everything as soon as we get you to the compound. Believe me. We aren’t just uprooting you for fun.”

Nat glances back and watches you pull yourself in line slowly, clinging to staring out the window and steadfastly ignoring either of them. 

________

The rest of the trip to the compound was quiet. No one spoke. Nat because she was listening to you, ears perked for any movement. Any sound. Adrenaline coursing through her body. Bucky because he knew there was nothing to say. Nothing that would make you feel better. He understood that it hurt and the pain made it harder to maintain control. There was no point in talking to you and trying to explain while you were desperately clinging to any semblance of control.

He pulled carefully down the drive and stopped the car, going around to open your door. He keeps an arm where you can grab him if you need to but otherwise doesn’t try to touch you. The cracks in your skin are still cherry red. You look like a stature someone has tried to piece pack together with red hot silver. You pause and pull  your phone from your pocket and hastily tap out a message, holding it out to him. 

Is there anything in that field over there? Anyone?

You point and he looks that direction, shaking his head, “We use it for outdoor training. Everyone is inside. Waiting for us.”

You nod and erase your previous message quickly, tapping out a new one.

Cover your ears.

Bucky complies and Natasha quickly follows suit. They watch as you walk forward several paces and close your eyes. The sound that bursts from you is a scream. Feral and primal. Inhuman. Loud. Even not facing them. Even with hands over their ears, it’s loud enough to bring them both slowly to their knees.

“Fuck,” Natasha breathed, “Thanks for not doing that in the car.” You turn and walk back towards them, nodding apologetically, “All that energy has to go someplace,” you explain in a hoarse whisper, “It’s usually better If I control it instead of letting it control me.” 

Bucky and Natasha watch as some of the luminous red glow on your skin and your eyes begins to dull and things fade back the shade they’re supposed to be. At least to a point. Angry scarlet welts still criss-cross your skin, looking raw. “Like a fucking Banshee,” Natasha says shaking her head to try and clear the ringing out of her ears. You nod, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky said quietly, draping his jacket over your shoulders. Trying to give you some semblance of security. Protect you from the curious eyes of all their peole milling about to see the cause of the ruckus outside. 

“That... that was really something,” Tony said strolling forward, holding out a hand, “Did they piss you off or were you just giving a demonstration. 

You exhale slowly and clear your throat, “Frustration,” you explain, “Mad is... Bigger.” 

“Hulk grammar too,” Tony said, clearly uncomfortable, “that’s good to know.” Bucky can tell he’s trying not to stare and he catches Steve’s eye, “I’m gonna take her to her room... Give her some time to settle in. Get calmed down.” Steve nods and gives him a guarded look, watching him lead you inside. 

“If you need anything,” he explains, “Just ask FRIDAY. She either knows where to find whatever it is or can alert someone who does... We’re packing up your stuff. Some good agents. They’re going to be bringing it to you... I’m sorry we arrested you. We had to make it look good.”

You stare at him a moment and he stops talking, nodding. He’s babbling. Nervous. 

It’s too much information and not enough at the same time. He stops at your door and waves away his jacket, “Keep it. For now,” he said, “It gets chilly in here.”

You nod quietly, instead of speaking and Bucky is thankful. He waits until you shut the door and exhales slowly. Christ you were scary.

Tags:  @lancsnerd​ @stevieang​ @golddaggers​ @blameitonthecauseway @qxeen-of-hearts​ @process-pending​ @xmarveled​ @beautybyfire, @etherealwaifgoddess, @mschellehitt, @mistressoftorture @thorfanficwriter, @ctinadiva, @innerpaperexpertcloud @amalthea9  @cdwmtjb8 @notyourtypicalrose, @harrison-shot-first @everything-is-awesomesauce @geekysimmerthings

[driversmutbucket]

Second Chances.

Part 1

Adam Sackler x Reader

Warnings: cursing

Author note: I’ve been wanting to whittle away at this for a while. I think I will slow burn this in between smutty filth. I wrote this as occurring post season 6. Basically I just want to give baby boi a happy ending. K bye.

———

“Mom! I can’t find my shoes!”

You groaned, swearing under your breath.

“Have you looked properly? Under your bed?”

“Oh! found them!”

You shoveled cereal into your mouth, knowing full well it was going to be the last thing you ate for hours.

“Mom, we need to go I don’t want to be late”, Celia stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed. The school bag on her back looked almost as big as her.

“Alright, keep your hair on”, you sighed as your threw things into your purse before following Celia out the front door.

———

You breathed a sigh of relief as you watched Celia dash through the front doors of the school.

You looked forward to the post drop-off coffee at the cafe nearby and even going to work.

The theatre was busy, people milled everywhere as you walked through the main doors, the excitement and nervous energy was palpable. Today was the day everyone was finally meeting, thus far, each department had only met separately to become acquainted while casting was wrapping up.

Heading backstage you waved and greeted a few of the crew members you had come to know. You could already hear the laughter and general chatter from behind the doors of the makeup, hair and costume department.

Smiling you pushed through the swing doors, greeted with a loud “Hey Boss lady!” From your colleague Clinton.

“Hey! Good morning” you smiled as you approached the designated makeup/hair area.

“I took the liberty of grabbing you a coffee, creamer and sweetener right?” Clinton motion to the cup at your station.

“I know we haven’t known each other long, but I love and adore you” you grinned.

After some initial gossip and chat you got down to figuring out a plan of attack for the day together. Today was the beginning of trialing makeup and hair on the cast.

A head of department meeting and a hurried lunch break later it was early afternoon. The assistant director poked her head in the door,

“Y/n? I’m going to send you Adam in about 10 minutes” she called across the room.

Giving the thumbs up, you turned to the cast list, scanning for an Adam.

Fiyero......................Adam Sackler

“Oh he plays the love interest” you said excitedly as you started flicking through the folder you had compiled of reference material.

“I have honestly never worked with anyone who is this nerdy” Clinton mused, “but goddam it’s helpful”.

“Thanks? So anyway, I’m thinking for the hair per-” you stopped, noticing Clinton grinning like an idiot at someone behind you.

“Hi uhhh, y/n?”

You turned and looked up at a towering, built man, I mean, you weren’t exactly short yourself but he dwarfed you.

“Adam?” You smiled warmly, he nodded.

“Come have a seat” you said patting the client chair.

As he sat down, you could see Clinton trying to mouth words to you, but you ignored him. You knew enough about Clinton to know it was probably something very unprofessional.

“I’m going to have to lower the seat if I’m to have any hope of looking at your hair” you grinned as you stepped on the pedal at the base of the chair so he came down to eye level with you.

Finally looking at Clinton, who was staring at Adam like he was a slice of cake, you broke his trance. “Hey Clinton, wanna heat up some of the hair tools and we will mess around a bit, see what’s possible?” His head snapped up to look at you before he mouthed “holy fuck”.

Turning back to Adam, you ruffled and ran your fingers through his hair, “you have great hair Adam” you gushed. It was long and thick, just grazing his shoulders. You could feel him studying your face.

“So I’m thinking, Fiyero, he is kind of living behind this facade. So perhaps we should try a kind of super polished, Prince Charming vibe to begin....”, you trailed off, staring at Adam, lost in thought.

“Oh shit, you’ve actually read the script!” He seemed excited.

For the next 10 minutes you became engrossed in character discourse.

“Uhhh y/n.....” Clinton interrupted, handing you a straightener.

“Oh fuck, sorry!” You laughed “I get carried away talking about this sort of thing”.

Clinton snorted, “I’ll say it again, biggest nerd....”

You swatted at him.

The next half an hour you spent styling Adam’s hair into various look, and photographing each one.

“Ok, great I think that wraps up hair” you said as you smoothed some flyaways.

Placing your hand on Adam’s arm you smiled sympathetically “Thanks for being so patient Adam, I’m a bit of a perfectionist”.

He grinned, “Oh honestly it’s no problem, I get it, I can turn into a bit of a lunatic when I’m learning lines.”

“Could you grab the ring light Clinton? Let’s start some makeup.”

You took a moment to study Adam’s face, his features were strong, some would say, handsome.

“You have lovely skin and features for makeup” you mused.

“I must add that to my resume” he chuckled.

“Honestly, some people’s features can get completely lost under heavy stage make up, and then you have to do all this extra work to redefine...” you waved your hand, “I’m getting off track again”.

You got into your zone, testing makeup. It didn’t stop you admiring the little beauty marks on his face, or his plump lips. He watched you work, intently. Especially when you gave Clinton pointers on application. It was a little weird, but you didn’t mind. You caught his eye, smiling from time to time. He asked the odd question about your brushes or a specific technique, seeming genuinely interested. He was different to most actors you dealt with. Quirky, but in an endearing way.

By the time you had finished with Adam, it was late afternoon. You gently wiped the heavy makeup off his face,

“Thanks Adam” you beamed, “I’m really happy with what we achieved”.

“Hey, did you hear a bunch of us are grabbing dinner later, are you coming?”

“Oh yeah, I am, see you then?”

He grinned “See you then”.

After he had left, you checked your phone, seeing a message from Celia’s stepmom saying she had picked her up from school as planned, for the weekend. You fired off quick reply, hoping to go grab a coffee before the next actor turned up.

As you cleaned your brushes Clinton cleared his throat, “so...Adam is a delicious beast of a man” he said coyly.

“Oh Jesus Christ” you snorted “but yes, he is a good looking guy”.

“I would climb him like a fucking tree” Clinton sighed “my god, his buttons looked like they were going to pop off his shirt, he is so big.”

“Note to self, make sure Clinton is not assigned to Adam, ever” you joked.

——

When the day was finally wrapped up it was after 7pm. Feeling absolutely drained you considered ditching the dinner with your colleagues. However, the prospect of getting to chat with Adam was more than appealing.

Arriving at the restaurant you could hear the group before you saw them.

“Y/N get that fine ass over here!!” Someone yelled.

You rolled your eyes, but grinned and made your way over to the table. Seeing Adam you gave him a little wave.

“Hey, I saved you a spot” he yelled over the music and chatter, patting the space on the bench beside him.

“Thanks!” You smiled, squeezing in next to him.

A waitress came over and asked for drink orders.

“House red please.”

The waitress joted it down and looked expectantly at Adam, “soda water please”.

“Not drinking tonight?” You asked, having to lean close to his ear so he could hear you.

“Not drinking ever” he shrugged.

“Oh, good on you” you smiled, placing a hand on his lower arm reassuringly.

Before he could reply, the assistant director tapped her glass with her knife.

“Oi! Shut up, I want to make a toast” she yelled standing up.

“Lets cheers to the beginning of an amazing run. I’m gonna call it early, best cast and crew ever!”

Cheers and whoops erupted from the 30 odd people crammed around the big table as everyone clinked their glasses.

As the dinner progressed, it became more and more impossible to have a conversation as the establishment became rowdier.

Giving up on talking completely Adam motioned at the door. Nodding you stood up and he followed you to the door.

“That was fucking ridiculous” he breathed as the door shut behind him.

“Jesus Christ I’ve been in quieter nightclubs” you laughed, “want to grab a coffee or something?”

“Love to” he grinned.

———

Finding a 24/7 diner down the block you went in and picked a booth in a dim, quiet corner.

You hummed happily as your wrapped your hands around a steaming mug of coffee. Taking a sip you closed your mouth eyes blissfully.

You could feel Adam’s eyes on you and you looked up to meet them, smiling.

“Sorry I was just having a moment with my true love, coffee.”

He snorted a laugh, you noticed the way his eyes crinkled, they were warm, kind eyes.

“No husband or whoever then?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh no, not anymore, I mean, no, nobody.”

You could have sworn you saw relief flutter across his face.

“You?”

“No, nobody” he said softly.

“Well aren’t we a pair” you murmured, smiling gently.

After a beat of silence you sighed, “Sorry i’m expectionally shit at small talk, which is ironic considering I do makeup and hair”

“Oh me too, there no fucking point to it, I’d just rather sit in silence”

“I can’t believe we have never ran into each other on the theatre circuit” you mused “I’ve been working around for a few years now”.

Adam shrugged “I’ve been in and out, some shit happened...”.

“I’m really looking forward to seeing you act”.

Adam chewed his cheek, “oh god...”

“Oh come on, you are obviously very good to be cast in something like Wicked”.

He gave a crooked smile, “I just overthink everything I guess”.

“I think the best people do.”

You talked through 2 cups of coffee and a milkshake. It was after midnight and you yawned.

“Where’s home Adam?”

“Brooklyn”

“Me too! Should we share a cab?”

“I was actually gonna walk”

You burst into laughter, “to fucking Brooklyn?!”

He grinned, “do it all the time”.

Maybe it was due to the large quantities of caffeine but you felt inspired. “Fuck you are a strange one, but I like it, let’s walk to fucking Brooklyn!”

“Fuck yeah!” Adam banged the table with his hand grinning.

———

By the time you got to the Brooklyn bridge you were feeling slightly exhausted. However when you turned and looked at the city from the bridge you gasped. It was beautiful, and the bridge was empty. Leaning against the rail you took in the view.

“This is beautiful” you said in awe.

Adam pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, offering you one.

“Thanks” you smiled, taking one. You smoked socially, but never at home or around Celia. It was something you had had to cold turkey when you found out you were pregnant with her. There was a comfort to having a cigarette in your mouth. It reminded you of college, the wild, carefree times.

You stood there side by side, in silence for a few minutes, drinking in the twinkling lights of the city.

“I miss having someone to do this shit with”, you sighed.

“Your doing it with me right now?” Adam turned to you smiling.

You waved your hand, “you know what I mean.”

He sighed, “yea, I do”.

“Ever been in love?” You asked, quietly, looking at the water.

“Yup, you”.

“Yup”.

“What happened?”

He sighed. It was a sad sigh.

“You don’t have to answer that, sorry” you lay you hand on his forearm that rested on the bridge rail.

“No, it’s ok, I just haven’t talked about it in a while, tried to move on you know?”

“Yeah I know...”

“We were a fucked up couple, it was just never going to work. We were off and on. She was fucking stubborn and messed up. I had my own shit. I even fucking offered to raise a kid that wasn’t mine, when she got pregnant while we weren’t together, I just...” he trailed off.

“Didn’t want it to end?” You offered gently.

“Yeah something like that.”

He looked at you, contemplating, taking a drag from his cigarette. “You?”

“We got together when we were both in college. Young, you know, just kids really? We are very different people, I just don’t think it was ever going to work. We tried really hard for the sake of our daughter.”

Adam whipped his head to look at you, eyes bright.

“You have a kid?!”

You grinned, “Yeah, she’s 5”.

“Fucking awesome, I love kids, I have a niece, she’s fucking cool”.

You laughed, “I’ve never had a guy so enthused at my single parent status before. It’s usually what I pull out of the bag when I want them to make them run for the hills”.

“People are fucking stupid” he snorted, “what’s her name?”

“Celia.”

“Wait, Shakespeare?” Adam raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yes! Holy shit nobody ever gets that!” You almost squealed.

You started walking over the bridge and discussing various Shakespeare plays with enthusiasm, laughing loudly at Adam’s sudden monologue performances in ridiculous accents.

By the time you reached your apartment you hardly even noticed the mammoth distance you had walked.

“This is me.”

“Oh I’m not far from here actually.”

“Thanks so much Adam, actually this has been the best time I’ve had in ages,” you smiled.

He grinned, “likewise”.

You wrapped you arms around him, hugging tightly. He reciprocated immediately, engulfing you.

“Let’s do this again ok?” You mumbled into his chest.

“We will” he promised. Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 / Epilogue

[phantasticworks]

Don’t Ask Me How I’ve Been (Fake Happy) Chapter 2

This took forever to post bc of college and finals but I’m finished for the year so I finally had time to finish this! Thank you for reading!

read on ao3

Words: 10.3k

Description: Dan wakes up alone after his night with Phil.

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, some abusive relationship content (not between dnp)

There’s light streaming in through his bedroom window, and Dan groans into the pillow. He had no idea what time it was, but at the moment, he didn’t really care. There was a throbbing in his lower back, and as he gains consciousness, he slowly remembers the events of the night before.

With a start, he sits up, looking at the spot beside him where Phil should have been.

Except, the bed was empty.

Dan frowns, puzzled, as he rolls out of bed and glances around the room. He’s alone in his bedroom. A pit of anxiety begins growing in his stomach, but he forces himself to calm down. Phil probably just woke up early and went to the bathroom or something. Dan stumbles over to the en-suite, but he can already tell that’s a dead end, as the door is wide open, the light off.

The nervous feeling in his stomach refuses to settle, but he tries not to freak out. It’s fine. Phil might’ve gone out to the lounge or something to wait for Dan to wake up.

The lounge is empty.

After a quick round through his flat, Dan realizes he’s actually alone. He wonders if maybe Phil had left a note, maybe he’d missed it in his panic. He slowly goes back to his bedroom and searches every surface. Nothing. The same result in the kitchen, and lounge. It’s as if… As if he was never here in the first place.

Dan is uncertain why that hurts as badly as it does, but before he can think too far into the why, the reality sets in, and tears start leaking from his eyes. There was no way he’d made up the whole thing… Right?

He manages to pull himself out of his thoughts long enough to remember he had a cell phone. Maybe Phil had texted him to explain where he’d gone!

It’s not until Dan’s sitting down on the sofa and unlocking his phone that he realizes two things. One, he’d definitely skipped the awards show last night, and all the missed calls, messages, and social media notifications that were waiting on his phone was proof of how much shit he’d be in the minute he got in contact with his manager. And secondly, he had never thought to get Phil’s phone number.

Shit.

He ignores all the messages to open the Uber app, swearing when he realizes the settings no longer allowed him to see Phil’s number. The only option he has is to contact him through the app, but he has no idea how desperate that will make him seem. Then he recalls that he never actually paid Phil, so without another thought, he clicks “Contact Driver” and begins typing.

Dan: Hi. You’re probably busy so I’m sorry for interrupting, but you left before I could pay you for the ride. Do you want to meet somewhere so I can pay you?

He contemplates the words for a moment before deciding to just go ahead and send it. It’s not going to make him feel any worse if he does, and maybe when Phil responds they can go out for coffee or something and actually talk. Besides the fact that he’d had a great night with him in bed, Phil seemed to share a lot of his interests, and he’d really like to get to know him better. Especially since things were over with Ben.

With the reminder, he realizes he’s still got a ton of unopened messages and many missed calls, most of them likely from his manager. Reluctantly, he goes to his missed calls, deciding to get the worst of it over with now. He clicks on Annette’s name, the number fourteen red beside her name. He cringes as he waits for her to pick up.

“Daniel James, I swear to god, if you ever-“ She doesn’t even say hello, just immediately starts yelling at him.

He can understand this, but at the same time, he’d already been having a shit morning, he didn’t want to deal with this too. “I know, Annette. I know. I’m sorry.” He heaves a sigh, leaning back on his sofa and rubbing a hand down his face. “You know why I didn’t want to be there,” he says softly.

She’s quiet for a moment before she finally sighs. She sounds almost exhausted as he feels. “I know, Dan.” And she does. Annette had known how in love Dan was with Ben from the moment he’d convinced her to sign Ben to the company. Dan had already been working with them for a little over two years, but when he’d met Ben, he just knew he had potential. He’d begged Annette and the rest of her team to sign him, and eventually, they caved, assuming it would be for the best.

Oh, how the tables turn.

“How’s he handling the win?” Dan asks, bitterness lacing his tone. “I’m sure he’s letting it go to his head, huh?”

There’s a pause, and Dan feels a little uneasy at her silence. Then, “Dan, he didn’t win.”

“Oh,” Dan says slowly. He hates himself for it, really, he does, but he can feel himself feeling sorry for Ben. He’d wanted this so badly. “So, who did?”

Now, Annette just sounds amused. “Have you checked literally any of your notifications?” She asks, rather than answer his question.

Dan’s confused. “Um, no. I haven’t been up long, and I figured I’d get my ass chewed out if I didn’t call you the minute I woke up.”

Annette laughs at this, and Dan’s relieved to hear the sound. So, he wouldn’t be in nearly as much trouble as he thought, especially if Annette is laughing. “Good call.”

“So… Who won?” He repeats his question, the curiosity eating at him.

“You did, love,” Annette says gently.

Dan feels as if all the breath in his lungs has been knocked out. “I… What?”

There’s another laugh. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised, dear. The film was a huge success, and you did wonderfully in it.”

He’s having a difficult time wrapping his head around the idea that he’s just won an award, an actual, proper award, for his acting. Then, guilt swarms in as he remembers he hadn’t been there to accept it. There’s a tightness in his throat as he wonders who accepted it on his behalf. “Oh… Did… um, who-“

Annette seems to know where his mind is, because she cuts him off. “I did. I didn’t think you’d want Ben to do it, and it wouldn’t have looked good for his current… narrative.” The word comes out strained, and Dan is pretty sure he knows why. Their manager wasn’t thrilled that Ben decided he wanted to be portrayed in a specific heteronormative way, and Dan thought that the reason probably had a lot to do with himself. Annette was somewhat of a mum to him, and she had told him many times that Ben was a right twat. Unfortunately, she’d been right.

“Oh. Thank you,” Dan says sincerely. He really would have the worst time if Annette wasn’t his manager. “I’m sorry I skipped it.”

“Not a problem, Daniel. We said you were sick. You weren’t out doing anything stupid, right? If it leaks that you were out and not actually sick, we’ll have a hell of a time explaining it.”

Dan shakes his head before he remembers she can’t see him. He sits up and moves to take the mugs, still full of tea from last night, to the sink, a thought striking him as he goes to stand. “Oh. I didn’t exactly go out and do anything stupid, but…” He trails off, uncertain how to tell her. He knew technically it wasn’t her business, but he knew that she’d want to know just in case the story of him sleeping with an Uber driver ended up in the press. Not that Phil would do that. But still, better safe than sorry.

“What did you do?” Annette says with a wary sigh.

“Um, well… I had a hookup-“

“Oh Jesus, Dan. Did they know who you were?”

“Well, yes, but-“

“Dan, you’ve really got to be careful about that kind of thing. What if he’d hurt you?” Annette asks, voice full of concern.

Dan sets the mugs in the sink, an uneasy feeling in his chest from her words. “Phil was harmless, he wouldn’t have done that.”

Annette is quiet for a long time, and Dan starts to wonder if maybe the connection had failed. Eventually, she speaks. “Is he still there?”

Now it’s Dan’s turn to be quiet. “No… He was gone when I woke up. But, he probably had other clients, it’s not like he-“

“Jesus Christ, Dan! You hired a hooker?” Annette is near screaming, and Dan’s face floods with heat.

“No!” He shouts, embarrassed that he’d made it sound that way. “He was the Uber driver, not- fuck, Annette. Obviously, I didn’t hire a hooker.”

“Okay,” Annette breathes, sounding relieved. “That’s definitely more manageable. Do you have his phone number?”

Dan shifts awkwardly. “No,” he admits.

Annette sighs, but doesn’t sound surprised. “Well, that makes things a little more complicated.”

“Why do you need it?” Dan asks, confused.

“In case he decides to go to the press, Dan. We need to be able to get in contact with him.”

Something swirls in his stomach, and Dan knows he’s not going to be able to keep his mouth shut this time. “Phil isn’t going to go tattle that he slept with me. I seriously doubt he’d even consider doing that.”

“But how do you know that?” She asks, gentle.

Dan huffs. He doesn’t want to admit how infatuated he was with Phil, not yet. And especially not to Annette, of all people. “I just don’t see why he would. Would that even be a story worth selling? I’m already out. There’s no secrets here. If anything, it would make Ben look less like a liar.”

Annette seems to consider this. “I suppose,” she says slowly. “But I’d still rather you try and get his information, so we have it, just in case.”

“I already messaged him,” he reassures her, moving over to his kettle to fill it up with water. He desperately needed a cup of coffee.

“Good. Well, congratulations on your win, Dan. You deserve it. Take it easy, okay? Oh, and call your mum. She’s already called me twice, she wants to congratulate you.”

Dan groans, but agrees. “Thanks, Ann.”

“Mhm,” is her response.

The phone call ends with a beep, and Dan sighs loudly. He can’t help but go check his Uber app, hoping to see a response from Phil. Nothing.

With an unsettled feeling in his chest and a heavy sigh, Dan goes about checking the rest of his notifications as the water in his kettle heats up, wondering about a man with black hair and blue eyes the whole time.

~

Three weeks.

Three weeks pass, and Dan doesn’t hear a single peep from Phil.

Twenty-four hours after his Uber ride had scheduled to end, he’s no longer given the option of contacting the driver, so his contact with him is thoroughly severed.

Dan can’t help but be mad, at himself for not getting Phil’s phone number, but also at Phil, because who the fuck has that kind of night with someone and then just fucks off to Neverland? Phil, apparently.

Over those three weeks, Dan has a lot of time to overthink everything that happened that night. He wonders what he did that made Phil decide to leave with no note or anything left behind, and eventually, he comes to the conclusion that it was his oversharing. Who does that? Who ruins a perfectly nice hookup with a perfectly nice man with all of that ridiculous emotional baggage? Dan, apparently.

Despite the fact that Dan’s thoughts feel consumed with worries about that night and where he went wrong, he still has a life to live outside of that. That life includes a celebratory party at his agency in honor of his first big award win, a party that, thankfully, Ben isn’t invited to. Dan had all but begged Annette to make sure he didn’t come, but in the end, she hadn’t had to make a single call. Ben informed the team that he and Sophia would be going on holiday to Edinburgh only a couple days after the awards show, the purpose of the trip apparently so he could meet her parents.

Dan tries not to let that hurt too much, but if he gets wine drunk and breaks the vinyl records Ben left at his flat after hearing the news, well, that’s his business.

He does slowly start to come to terms with the ending of that chapter in his life, even if some of his coping mechanisms aren’t exactly ideal. The only good thing about it all is the timing, because he’s not set to start filming his part in a new film for another month, so until then, he’s got all the downtime he needs to have his breakdown.

A breakdown that includes some nights of copious amount of alcohol, or sometimes just copious amounts of food. The breakdown may also include a few nights of wearing Ben’s old clothes and sobbing into the fabric, but when the worst of it is over, Dan washes the clothes and folds them neatly, placing them in a cardboard box to start the process of packing up Ben’s things.

The process is more taxing than he’d originally anticipated, though, so eventually he finds himself putting it off for another time. It had only been a week and a half at that point, and something about stuffing Ben’s belongings into a box made him almost sick. It almost seemed like he’d died, and while the rational part of Dan’s brain knew this wasn’t true, the panicked, nervous part just screamed at him to leave it for another day.

Along with the packing, Dan had also taken to spending more time at the agency, mainly just to stay away from his too-empty apartment and, admittedly, to distract him from the thoughts of Phil that still swarm in his brain. Logically, he was aware that it was essentially a fluke; he’d barely been in the other man’s company for four hours, there was virtually no reason for Dan to feel as attached to him as he did. And yet, there was just something about Phil that Dan felt inexplicably drawn to.

Whatever the reason was, Dan had essentially given up any hope of ever seeing the man again by the time three weeks had passed since that night.

On the three-week mark, he found himself out of his usual routine when he’s invited to a house party. Apparently, it was just going to be a few people from his agency and some other people in the business, no one of any real importance from what he could gather. Just an ensemble of up-and-coming artists who for some reason thought getting drunk and making embarrassing memories together would strengthen their work relationships. Or something like that, at least.

Dan had agreed to go only on the principle that he hadn’t been spending much time hanging out with any of his friends outside of work lately, and sometimes he did miss them. Well, some of them, at least. There was a couple, or namely just one, coworkers that he’d rather not see, but with the hope that a house party would seem far too childish to Ben, Dan agrees to go.

When he shows up at Christopher’s house, the party is already in full swing. It’s not as bad as college house parties; there weren’t gaggles of drunk people loitering around on the lawn, but Dan wasn’t so sure he could say the same for the inside. With a heaved sigh, he plasters on a fake smile and makes his way to the door.

He doesn’t bother knocking, Christopher never knocked when he went anywhere, and Dan could hear how loud the music was from here; no one would even notice if he knocked. When he steps inside, he’s almost immediately called over by the host of the party himself.

“Dan! Dan the man! Come on, mate, we’re doing shots!” Christopher’s obnoxious voice calls over to him from his spot in the lounge, a group of familiar faces surrounding him.

Dan tries not to grimace, but it’s hard. He doesn’t like getting drunk with a group nearly as much as he did back in his teenage years, as he’s got this awful tendency to spill his guts about every secret in his life. That tendency had gotten him into a lot of trouble with Ben over the years, so eventually he’d stopped drinking so much at parties.

“Good to see you, mate,” Dan says amicably when he reaches the group, patting Christopher on the back. And it was, Christopher was one of the only actors that were signed on at the agency that he actually liked. Some of them weren’t horrible, exactly, but Dan did have standards when it came to his friends.

“Here you go,” says a girl called April as she hands him a shot glass.

“Thanks,” Dan nods to her. He glances around the room to survey the attendees for anyone else that he was friends with, mainly so he’d have an excuse to escape Christopher before his drinking games began. “Nice party, mate, I-“ He begins, eyes still flitting around the room. He cuts himself off abruptly when he sees blonde hair and a leather jacket.

No. Please, no.

But yes, it’s unmistakably Ben, and standing next to him is a petite girl with platinum blonde hair, much lighter than Ben’s could ever hope to be without serious work. Sophia.

Dan can’t help but study Ben, checking to see any visible signs of discomfort or grief. He doesn’t find any, but as he watches him talking and laughing with the few people around him, Ben’s eyes suddenly flick up, meeting his own briefly. His face flaming, Dan quickly turns back to the group he’s with, downing his shot at once. Okay, so maybe he’d have a couple drinks tonight.

“You alright, Dan?” Comes a quiet voice to his left. Dan glances over and finds Erika, Annette’s assistant and one of his close friends. She’s holding a water bottle, and Dan knows from previous party experience that it’s just that- water. She doesn’t drink, and Dan thinks that at this moment he’d never been so grateful to see another human being.

“Erika! I haven’t seen you in ages,” Dan says brightly, avoiding her question as he leans down to hug her.

The brunette smiles up at him but bites her lip and flicks her eyes over somewhere behind Dan, and he knows that she’s seen Ben. It wasn’t like everyone at the agency knew that Dan and Ben had been a thing and weren’t anymore, but it certainly hadn’t left the attention of his PR agent and some of her staff. If he wasn’t so anxious after seeing Ben, he’d probably be embarrassed about how the sight of Ben made him react.

“How have you been, love?” Erika asks in a soft voice, only barely loud enough for Dan to hear her.

He glances over at the group, and realizing they aren’t paying any attention to them, he nods for her to follow him to a corner to talk quietly. “I’ve been better,” he says with a bitter laugh.

She levels him with a pitying smile, and he feels a tightening in his throat, which he hates. “I heard that Ben moved out,” she says quietly.

Dan clenches his fists, trying to remind himself that Erika didn’t mean anything by it. It’s not like she knew all the details; he hadn’t even told Annette the full story. The first day back at the agency after the awards ceremony, she’d asked what exactly happened, and he’d given her the shortest answer possible, just explaining that he would be moving Ben’s things out soon. He’d left it at that.

“We weren’t really living together in the first place,” Dan mutters under his breath, looking down at his shoes and half-wishing he had gotten a drink from someone before this conversation.

Erika sends him a disbelieving look. “Sure, but his things were living at your flat, right?” The thing about Erika was that while she was a sweetheart, she was not afraid to call him out on his shit. It looked like this would be one of those times.

“Well, they aren’t going to be for long. I’ve already started packing it up.” He wasn’t going to pretend that she was wrong; Erika knew more about his and Ben’s situation than even Annette did.

It’s quiet for a few moments before Erika speaks. “I’m sorry, love,” she says gently. “I can’t even imagine… You know you can come stay with me anytime you want, right? If you just need to a change of view or some company.”

He knows her offer is sincere, but he hated to be a burden. “Thanks, Erika. I’ll let you know if I need a shoulder to cry on, but for now I think I’m handling it okay.” He offers her a smile to soften the blow of his rejection.

If it bothers her that he didn’t accept the invitation, she doesn’t let it show. Instead, she points to a group of people by the fireplace. “Did you hear that James and Phoebe are sleeping together?” She asks in a conspiratorial voice.

Dan laughs at this, more than glad that the topic of their conversation has moved to something that isn’t his own life. “I hadn’t, but I can believe it. James is just making his way ‘round, huh?”

Erika’s eyes sparkle, and Dan can tell she’s glad that her distraction is a success. “I think the only people he hasn’t slept with are the guys at the agency and me, of course,” she giggles.

“Imagine that!” He replies, shaking his head with a fond smile. “He wouldn’t sleep with a lesbian?”

“Yeah, I think-“ she starts, turning to gesture to the fireplace again.

She’s interrupted by a voice Dan definitely didn’t want to hear. “Gossiping, are we, ladies?” Ben sneers.

Dan huffs, turning to face him. His breath gets caught when he sees him up-close for the first time in three weeks. He looks good, obviously, with his stupid blonde hair and his stupid leather jacket. He’s got a smirk on his face when Dan looks at him, and Dan can only imagine how much he’s enjoying the way Dan is obviously still very much attracted to him.

“Not about you, sadly. Do something interesting with your life and you might just make an appearance in our little chats,” Erika says in a sickly-sweet voice.

Her sarcastic comment breaks Dan out of his stupor, and he tries to hide his smile. Ben looks at her with distaste, much the way that he looked at everyone else he thought was beneath him. “Right, because I want to be the center of attention in your little gay fantasies.”

Dan scoffs at that. “As if, mate. You would want to be the center of attention in a room of serial killers, even if they were trying to kill you.”

Ben narrows his eyes at him. “At least I’m not scared of the attention I get,” he snaps.

Shrugging, Dan shifts to lean against the wall, trying to put some space between them. “Not scared, just don’t get off to it like you do.” Dan smirks as he says this, seeing the perfect opening for a remark he’ll probably regret. “And I would know about getting you off, huh, Ben?”

The blonde clenches his fist at his side, and Dan instinctively flinches away. He doesn’t even realize he’s done it until he hears Erika gasp softly beside him.

“You need to go. Right now.” She’s glaring at Ben, a look of pure hatred on her face. Dan had never seen her look so livid, but right now she looked absolutely disgusted.

Ben shifts his glare onto her, laughing loudly and crossing his arms. Dan’s eyes flit around the room, and he shifts awkwardly when he realizes that they’ve got quite a few eyes on them at the moment. “Erika…” he says lowly, trying to keep her voice down.

“So, Danny needs a bodyguard now? Poor bastard can’t defend himself, so he needs you to do it for him?” Although Dan knows he’s speaking to Erika, he knows the words are meant to hurt him.

“No-“ Erika starts, stepping closer to him and poking his chest harshly.

“Erika, stop, just-“

“Don’t act like you don’t get off to someone taking care of you, Daniel. We both know you’re just a little bitch who can’t take care of himself,” Ben taunts, a smirk on his lips.

Dan’s teeth grind together, and he gently tugs on Erika’s arm to pull her away from him. He appreciated the thought, but he knew Ben, and unfortunately, he knew that he was absolutely the kind of person to swing a punch, even if the person in front of him was a woman. “That’s enough, Ben. Wouldn’t want everyone in here to figure out all your little secrets, would we?” Dan raises a brow in challenge, knowing damn well that Ben doesn’t want anyone to know about their past.

Ben clenches his jaw, but steps back. He glances around the room, and it seems like everyone who was watching them suddenly realizes how rude that is, as almost every pair of eyes flit away. “We both know you wouldn’t say shit, faggot.” Ben spits the word out, and Dan can feel his blood boiling.

“You seem to forget that I’m not the one stuck in a fucking closet. I’d watch my fucking mouth, if I were you,” Dan replies snidely, his anger giving him the confidence to say something so bold to Ben.

With his eyes narrowed, Ben leans in closer, and it takes everything in Dan to not flinch away. “You can call it what you want, but we both know that at the end of the day, you’re just another hole to fuck,” he whispers, just loud enough so Dan can hear over the music and chatter.

Dan doesn’t even think before he does it. One moment he’s feeling the pain and anger of hearing the man he once loved say that to him, and the next he’s shoving him, hard.

Ben loses his balance and falls to the floor, effectively quieting the room. He looks almost as shocked as Dan feels, looking up at him with an expression Dan has never seen on his face. Dan can feel his hands shaking and he knows he’s about to have a breakdown if he doesn’t leave.

Before he can even consider it, he looks down at Ben, a frown on his face. “I feel sorry for you, Ben. I really, really do.” He glances around the room until he catches sight of Sophia, who looks shocked at the scene in front of her. “I just hope she’s not as stupid as I was.”

Sophia stares at him, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion at his words. He knows it’s not his concern, but he hopes that for her sake, she breaks up with Ben. She really was a sweet girl, she didn’t deserve the kind of shit life she’d have if she stayed with him.

Without a second glance at the man on the floor, Dan murmurs a quick goodbye to Erika before heading to the front door. Christopher yells out to him, probably to try and get some sort of explanation, but Dan waves him off, pulling his phone out as he steps outside. He’d taken an Uber here, but he hadn’t asked the driver to hang around, considering he thought he’d be there for several hours, instead of less than one.

He quickly goes through the app and orders a car, walking out to sit on the side of the road until it arrived. A message popped up saying there was a driver less than ten minutes away, and he was more than relieved to see that he wouldn’t be stuck out here long. He’d hate for anyone to come out here to check on him, or try and ask him what had happened, which was honestly the more likely outcome.

Barely ten minutes later, a car is pulling up close to the house. Dan stands and tucks his phone into his pocket, slowly making his way over to the car. Something about the color is familiar to him, but it doesn’t full set in until he’s almost to the car. He stops dead in his tracks, staring in silence as the driver’s side window rolls down, revealing a face that’s been keeping him up at night.

“Um… Hi,” Phil says softly, scratching the back of his head in an awkward fashion.

Dan doesn’t speak. It’s almost as if he’s seeing a ghost, but he can tell that Phil is definitely there, and he is very much about to be alone in a car with him.

“Uh, you can… Um, you can sit in the passenger if you want,” Phil stutters out awkwardly, gesturing to the seat beside him.

Silently, Dan moves around to the passenger side of the car, his mind stuck on the fact that after three weeks, he’s actually seeing Phil again. He puts his seatbelt on slowly, staring at his hands as he does so and trying hard not to look over at the driver. As soon as he’s buckled up, however, he’s got nothing else to distract himself with.

“Do you need my address?” He asks flatly, staring straight out the windshield instead of looking at Phil.

He can feel the other man’s gaze on him, but he refuses to meet it. After a quiet sigh, Phil speaks. “No, I remember how to get there.”

“Okay.”

It’s silent in the car for a few moments, and Dan doesn’t know if that’s worse than talking about the obvious elephant in the room. He doesn’t know if Phil even wants to talk about it, but he knows that he’s biting his tongue to keep his thoughts to himself.

Eventually, Phil seems unable to handle the silence. “How have you been?” He asks softly.

Dan can’t help it. He glances over at him, an incredulous look on his face. “I’m sorry?” He asks, as if he hadn’t heard him right.

Phil clears his throat, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “How have you been? It’s been… about three weeks, right?”

With a bitter laugh, Dan shifts to lean his head back. “Yeah. Three weeks. I’ve been doing just lovely, thanks for asking.”

There’s a beat of silence before Phil says, “I don’t think you’re being honest.”

Dan whips his head to the side to stare at Phil. “Well spotted,” he snaps.

Phil lets out a deep breath, and Dan can tell he’s becoming agitated. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

This time, Dan really doesn’t think he’s heard him right. “What?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“I’m sorry. For… well, for not answering your message, for one. And…” He glances over at Dan then, swallowing hard, and Dan’s eyes flit down to take in the movement. “And for leaving without telling you.”

Dan can only stare at him in silence for what feels like a long time. He’d wanted that apology, but now that he’s got it, he doesn’t feel any better. If anything, it only manages to make him feel worse. “Right,” Dan says, clearing his throat. He glances out the window, relieved to see that they’re already almost to his flat. Luckily it was a short drive this time, because although he’d spent the majority of the past three weeks thinking about Phil, he’s finding that he really doesn’t want to be around him right now.

“I get why you’re upset with me, Dan, really, I do, but please say something.” Phil’s voice is almost begging, and Dan knows it won’t take long for him to cave.

Dan laughs once, without humor. “I don’t have anything to say, Phil. We fucked, and you disappeared right after. There’s really not much to comment on there, if you ask me.” He shrugs, trying to sound as nonchalant as he can.

“Dan…” Phil says softly, clearly upset.

They’ve pulled up to his building, and Dan knows he’s got to ask. It’s eating away at him, and he knows he’s got to have an answer. “Can you just tell me why?” He asks, finally turning to properly face Phil once he’s brought the car to a stop. “Was it… Was it not good for you? Or was it the fact that I told you all that shit about Ben? Because you literally told me I could talk to you about it, and I…” He trails off, his throat slowly closing up. He shuts his eyes tightly, trying to stop the tears. “I really wanted to be friends. Like I didn’t want to just fuck you, you know.”

“It’s not that! It wasn’t any of that, Dan, I swear. I just… I can’t…” Phil’s voice cracks, and Dan’s eyes flutter open to find him staring at him helplessly, his eyes watery. Some sick, hurt part of Dan is glad to see that Phil is upset. It made him feel slightly better about his own pain, in a weird way.

“Is there… is it someone else?” Dan whispers, almost not wanting an answer. He’d be sick, actually sick, if Phil told him he’d cheated on someone else with him that night.

“What?” Phil sounds shocked. “No, Dan. God, no. I don’t do that.” He’s shaking his head adamantly, and Dan believes him. The relief he feels at the reassurance is immeasurable.

“Then?” He questions, raising his eyebrows. “What the fuck?”

Phil takes in a deep breath, leaning back in his seat and letting his gaze flit away from Dan and onto the building they’re parked in front of. Dan doesn’t think he’s going to answer at first, but after a few moments, he begins speaking quietly. “I’m not good enough for you,” he breathes. “I’m not an actor or anyone special, okay? I wish I was, but I’m not. I’m just me. I work at a video store and drive for Uber to make ends meet, and I just-“

Dan cuts him off with a harsh laugh, pulling out his wallet and counting out enough money for this ride and the last one, since he’d never gotten to pay him. “That’s ridiculous, you know.” He can’t help the way his voice cracks. “Pulling the whole “it’s not you, it’s me,” thing. It’s good, but I really expected something a little more impressive.” He places the cash on the console between them before stepping out of the car.

“Dan, please-“ Phil starts, looking stricken.

“You know, I really thought that we just clicked, you know? Like the whole time we were together that night, I felt like we had a lot in common, and it was such a relief to be around someone who wasn’t a total dick, but I guess I’ve never been great at character judgement.” Dan shakes his head, a grimace on his face. He slams the car door shut, ignoring how badly he wants to turn around and apologize for what he’d just said.

“That’s not fair,” Phil calls to him. Dan turns around to find Phil stepping out of the car.

“No, what’s not fair is you acting like you gave a damn about me and then leaving without saying shit. Do you know how that feels? Like, honestly?” He swallows hard. He hadn’t given a name to what he’d felt since seeing Phil again, but he felt like he finally had some clarity. He felt used. As if Phil had only wanted to sleep with him because he’s “famous,” not because he actually liked him.

“I’m sorry, Dan. Please, I didn’t-“ he steps closer, holding his hand out as if he wants to touch Dan.

On instinct, Dan flinches away. The look of hurt on Phil’s face then almost breaks his heart, but he refuses to act as if it did. “It felt like being used, Phil. That’s how it felt.”

Phil’s shoulders sag then, as if he’s just deflated. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Dan. I just… I’m not like you. I don’t have money, or a ton of friends, or some amazing career. And, you… You deserve whatever you want, Dan.”

Dan shakes his head slowly. “What I wanted was you,” he mutters before turning to go inside his flat.

“Dan, please, I just-“

Without so much as a glance back, Dan walks into his building, shutting the door behind him with a firm click.

~

A heavy cardboard box sits at the end of Dan’s sofa, haphazardly closed with some scotch tape. He hadn’t bothered labeling it; when he dropped them off at Annette’s office, he’d make sure she called Ben in to come retrieve them. Dan had no desire to see the man himself, and he knew his manager would take care of it for him. With a heavy sigh, Dan allows his gaze to sweep over the lounge, making sure for the last time that he’d collected all of Ben’s belongings.

After finding nothing that didn’t belong to him, Dan moves to the kitchen. He was almost certain that he had already gotten everything of Ben’s from the cupboards, but he planned on double checking just to make sure. He opens the cupboard where he kept the coffee mugs, and his gaze catches on one in particular. He pulls the stupid Mario Kart mug out and without a second glance, tosses it straight in the bin. It was a shitty mug anyway, he reasons with himself as he turns back to the cupboard.

With nothing else left in the kitchen to remove, Dan makes his way to his bedroom. He’d left the final box in there, and after a quick check he would be done with packing everything up. He specifically avoids looking at the items already filling the box, instead turning to riffle through his dresser. He’d left one empty for Ben, and although he’d already emptied it out, he knew that Ben had a tendency to stuff his clothes and things in the other drawers, too. After finding nothing but an old Napoleon Dynamite t-shirt, he slams the drawers shut.

It was weirdly therapeutic, closing the box full of Ben’s things and closing it with crappy tape. It felt like the ending of a chapter, and even though it sort of felt like everything else in his life had gone to shit, Dan feels slightly better knowing that at least this part was over.

He drops the last box onto the top of the other one in his lounge, dropping his hands to his waist as he surveys his day’s work. “Well. That’s that, I suppose,” he says aloud. He’s well aware of how weird it makes him look to just talk to himself in an otherwise empty flat, but he’d declined Erika’s offer to help him pack. Maybe he slightly regretted that now, but he felt that he needed to be alone to do this. Now that he was done, however, we was feeling drained and exhausted and in desperate need of a shower and some human interaction.

Dan’s just picked up his phone and started typing out a message to Erika when he hears a knock at his door. He wants to groan, because he knew of only two people who knew the code to get into his building, and right now he wasn’t in the mood to talk to Annette or, god forbid, Ben. With a groan that’s more overdramatic than the situation warrants, he makes his way to the door and flings it open without a second thought.

“Hi, I- oh.” His standard welcome is cut short when he realizes the person on the other side of his door is neither party he expected.

Phil gives him a shy smile. “Hey, um, someone was leaving when I came in, and they held the door for me. I’m not sure if they just assumed I lived here, or they just didn’t care, but I guess it’s a good thing I’m not a serial murderer.”

It takes Dan several moments to find his voice. After their argument the other night, he hadn’t expected to see Phil ever again, and despite the fact that it annoyed him deeply, he’d managed to push it to the back of his mind, considering it wasn’t like he really had a lot to tie himself to the man. And yet, here he is, rambling at his door.

“Why are you here?” Is the first thing that falls from Dan’s mouth. He almost winces at himself with how rude it sounds, but then he remembers why they left things the way they did, and decides he’s earned the right to be rude.

Phil’s face drops into an expression of guilt. “I know you probably want me to leave, but I needed to come by and apologize. I know I made you upset the other day, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I said, and for leaving without telling you, and for not answering your messages. I was a twat, and I know that.” His words come out in a rush, and Dan is left staring at him in mute surprise.

It’s then that he notices that Phil isn’t empty-handed; in his right hand, his fingers grip a small gift bag, messily stuffed with tissue paper. “What’s in the bag?” He asks rather than addressing Phil’s apology. It was almost exactly what Dan wanted to hear, but Phil didn’t have to know that right now, and Dan didn’t have to forgive him so soon.

At Dan’s words, Phil seems to remember he’s holding something, and he quickly holds it out. “Oh. Um, here. It’s for you.”

Dan frowns, his brows knitting together uncertainly. “Is it, like, a bomb or something?” He asks, only partially joking. He’d never been actually seriously threatened before, but he still barely knew Phil, he wasn’t going to just blindly assume that he wouldn’t try it.

Phil’s lips curve up into a small smile, and he shakes his head. “No, it’s not. It’s… well, just look and see.”

With a strong sense of uncertainty and more curious than he’d like to admit, Dan tugs the tissue paper out of the bag. Phil holds a hand out for it, and Dan is careful not to allow their hands to touch as he hands it over. He’s left staring into the bag, his eyebrows knitting together yet again as he tugs the object out. “A coffee mug?” He asks flatly. He wasn’t sure what exactly to expect, but a plain black coffee mug wasn’t exactly it.

Phil smiles, clearly excited. “It changes when you pour hot water in it. Like,” he reaches a hand out for it then, and unthinkingly, Dan flinches away. Phil’s smile drops, and he studies Dan with an almost sad look in his eyes. “May I?” He asks, softly. Dan slowly nods, holding the cup out to him. Phil takes it from him gently, turning it over to show Dan one side of it. “The cup will turn white, and this part right here will show the heart from Undertale,” he explains, glancing up at Dan with a sheepish smile. “I thought, um… I figured it would match your other one.”

Dan settles into a stunned silence at the thoughtful gift, staring down at the ceramic as he tries to process it. Phil didn’t have to apologize to him, obviously, but he certainly didn’t have to do so with a gift. Dan wasn’t sure anyone, especially Ben, had ever done something like that for him, so now he wasn’t so sure that he could fathom Phil’s reasoning for it. “Um, thank you,” he says softly, taking the mug back when Phil holds it out to him.

Nodding, Phil steps back, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck in what is probably a nervous habit. “You’re welcome. Um… I guess I’ll go, I just wanted to bring that by, and… I just wanted to say I was sorry, for messing everything up. I really didn’t intend for things to go the way they did.”

Still trying to gather his thoughts, Dan watches as Phil turns around, tucking his hands into his pockets as he moves to disappear from Dan’s life. Without much thought to the consequences of doing so, Dan steps out and calls his name.

Phil turns around with an eyebrow raised, looking more surprised than Dan feels he has the right to. “Yeah?”

Dan chews his lip for a moment, glancing back down at the mug in his hands. With a sigh, he closes his eyes and speaks. “Are you busy right now?”

There’s a beat of silence, and Dan slowly opens his eyes to take a peek at Phil’s reaction. He’s expecting more silence or even an awkward excuse, but Phil has a soft smile on his face. “I’m not, no.”

Nodding, as if he’d expected this, Dan runs his hand through his curls before gesturing to his flat. “Would you like to come play Mario Kart with me?”

Phil’s smile shifts into something even softer, if it’s possible, and Dan swallows hard. He’s inviting him in as a friend this time, nothing more. He can do that, and they can be friends. He’s afraid if he doesn’t convince himself of this, he’ll mess things up. “I’d love to,” Phil responds easily.

Dan steps back and holds the door for him, closing it with a gentle push once Phil is making his way to the lounge. “You can take your coat off and put it wherever,” he says off-handedly as he goes to set the mug in the kitchen.

When he makes his way back to the lounge, Phil’s left his coat on the back of the armchair Dan rarely used, and the man himself is stood staring at the boxes at the end of Dan’s sofa, an almost-grimace on his face. Before Dan has the chance to say anything, Phil turns to look at him, a strange look on his face. “Are you moving?” He asks. If Dan didn’t know better, he’d think that Phil actually sounded upset about it.

Dan smiles at this but shakes his head. “No, I’m just clearing out some junk I don’t need anymore.” He moves to the television and begins setting up the game, glancing over at Phil as he does so. “You can sit, you know. I’m not going to make you stand the entire time you’re here.”

Phil smiles briefly at this, but he’s got a panicked look on his face, like he really wants to say something else. Dan quirks an eyebrow at him, and apparently that’s all the permission he needed, because then he’s speaking quickly, barely giving Dan a chance to catch his words. “Not that I don’t want to spend time with you, because obviously I do, but I really think we should talk about what happened. You’ve barely said anything to me since I got here, and I want to know what you’re thinking. Please, just say something so I know you don’t hate me.”

Seemingly done with his rant, Phil drops to sit on the sofa, looking up at Dan with an almost pleading look in his eyes.

Dan blinks. He certainly wasn’t expecting all that, but he supposed it was good that Phil brought it up, so he didn’t have to. Grabbing his switch from the bookcase where he kept it, he carefully took each end off so that he and Phil could play in multi-player mode, all the while carefully gathering his thoughts for the conversation they were about to have.

“I was upset after you dropped me off the other night,” he admits quietly, handing Phil a controller as he sits beside him on the sofa. “I was confused, mostly, I think, but I was definitely upset.” He sighs then, turning to share a small smile with Phil. “But, like all things, I had to get over it, right?”

Phil looks upset, with himself or Dan is unclear. He shakes his head slowly, his eyes never leaving Dan’s face as his fingers trail over the tiny controller in his hand. “No, you had a right to be upset, Dan. And… I hate to sound cliché, god, but you’re allowed to hold onto that, you know? Your anger wasn’t misplaced, and you’re allowed to hold onto that if you aren’t ready to get over it. I…” he trails off then, finally dropping his eyes to his lap. “I know that I messed up by treating you the way I did, but I swear I didn’t do it with the intentions of hurting you.”

Dan takes a moment to process this, swallowing a few times to try and get rid of the dry feeling in his mouth. It doesn’t work. Eventually, he finds a response. “I don’t want to be that person that holds onto things like that. You fucked up, but you know you did, and you’ve already apologized. I’m not… I’d like a fresh start, I guess.” He rolls his eyes as he says this, sending Phil a bemused smile. “Look at me, being the real cliché here.”

A small smile quirks at Phil’s lips, finally. “I think a fresh start would be good.” There’s a tremor of nervousness in his voice, as if he’s afraid Dan will suddenly want to change his mind.

“Yeah?” Dan asks, chewing his lips as he watches Phil push his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Phil nods, taking the same hand through his hair, messing his quiff up. It looks good that way, though, so Dan doesn’t say a word. “I’d really like the chance to show you that I’m not a total dick, even though I definitely acted like it before.”

Dan grins at this, nudging Phil gently with his elbow as he finally turns to the TV. He felt the serious part of their conversation was over, and he was ready for some friendly competition. “I don’t mind dicks, believe it or not,” he teases lewdly, sending a smirk to the man beside him.

His lips pursed as if he’s holding a laugh in, Phil levels him with an unimpressed look. “At least take me to dinner before trying to get in my pants, Howell.”

The joke is funny, and Dan snorts, but something about the usage of his surname reminds him of something important. “I don’t know anything about you,” he says suddenly, completely disregarding what Phil’s just said.

Phil glances away from the screen, where Dan had been going through the motions of setting up the game, frowning at Dan. “Don’t you?” He asks, sounding confused.

Dan shakes his head adamantly. “I don’t even know your last name,” he informs Phil, his eyes scanning over the screen to pick a course. “What course is your favorite?”

“I’m good at the Electrodrome.” There’s a beat of silence then, before he speaks quietly. “Lester.”

Glancing over at him with his eyebrows drawn, Dan asks, “Pardon?”

Phil gestures to him with the hand not holding his little controller. “My last name. It’s Lester.”

A little surprised that’d he’d actually told him, Dan pauses. “Oh.” Then, “Thank you for telling me.”

Shrugging, Phil moves to lean back on the sofa. “My middle name is Michael. If you were wondering.” He’s got a small smile on his face, and Dan wonders if this is turning into twenty questions.

With a little smile, Dan selects the Electrodrome course on the game before speaking again. “Mine’s James.” He shifts so that he’s sitting with his legs criss-crossed, tugging a decorative pillow onto his lap for arm support. “I suppose you could just google anything you wanted to know about me,” he muses, almost as an afterthought.

“I couldn’t google what you look like when you’ve just woken up.” Phil’s voice is soft, and although the race has already started, Dan can’t help but look over at him, swallowing hard when he sees the hopeful, almost pleading look on Phil’s face.

Dan’s eyes shift back to the screen to focus on not losing, but his mind is swirling with what Phil’s just said. The implication was obvious, but he wasn’t positive how exactly he should interpret it. He goes with the obvious way. “I guess that’s something you’d have to find out for yourself,” he breathes, trying not to show how nervously excited the prospect of Phil spending the night, like actually spending the night, makes him.

“Could I? Find out for myself, that is?” Phil murmurs. Dan feels the sofa shift and he feels rather than sees the way that Phil has turned to be almost facing Dan, his knee pressing against Dan’s thigh gently.

Dan swallows, and nods, barely glancing over at the man beside him. Bright blue eyes meet his gaze, and he almost says fuck the game right then and there. “I’d like that.”

Phil smiles then, an adorable sight that has Dan’s character on screen running into a wall with how distracted he is. Shaking himself slightly, Dan shifts his gaze back to the screen. Phil chuckles softly, and Dan almost flushes at the fact that Phil knows how he’s affected him.

“Are you hungry?” Dan asks sometime later, once they’ve started a new race. He glances over at Phil and finds him concentrating on the screen intently. His gaze meets Dan’s when he realizes that the brunette’s stare is on him. “If you’re staying anyway, we can order pizza, or something. If you want?” Dan’s a little uncertain if Phil was serious about the earlier implication, but now he’s basically asked him for an answer.

“Pizza sounds great,” Phil smiles at him.

Dan nods, and they finish the round they’re on with banter and some light shoves. Dan wins, but Phil promises to redeem himself later. When they’re done, Dan tosses the remote onto the coffee table before standing to go search for his laptop. “Domino’s?” He asks.

Phil nods, excitement in his eyes. “The superior pizza place, honestly,” he comments as Dan moves over to his armchair where his MacBook is laying.

“Right? It’s the only food worth consuming.” He drops back onto the sofa and kicks his feet up onto the coffee table, opening the laptop and hoping that he’d closed any weird tabs he’d had open. Luckily there’s only a couple Wikipedia articles and a tab with a funny YouTube video pulled up. He quickly opens a new tab and finds Domino’s website, going to the build a pizza option. “What do you like on your pizza?”

Phil is looking at the options, and it’s not until Dan glances over that he realizes how close they are on the sofa. He wants to close the distance and press his lips to Phil’s, but he holds himself back. “I like their sizzler, but I’m really not picky. Just don’t like, add a bunch of extra cheese, and I’ll be fine.”

Dan raises an eyebrow. “What did cheese do to you?” He teases before clicking the options to build a half and half pizza with the option Phil had suggested, as well as what he normally got.

“I don’t like cheese.” Phil shrugs as if it’s no big deal, but Dan’s head whips around to stare at him in shock.

“You’re kidding,” he gasps. “On second thought, I don’t know if this is going to work out.”

Phil rolls his eyes and gently elbows Dan in the ribs. “Don’t be so dramatic,” he whines. “I just can’t eat cheese. It makes me sick.” He flushes as if he’s embarrassed to admit this, but the knowledge that he doesn’t hate cheese and cheese just hates him settles Dan’s attitude.

“Oh, well that’s different. You can’t eat cheese, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to,” he says with a shrug. Phil opens his mouth as if he’s about to speak, but Dan is quick to bring a hand up to cover his mouth. “Nope. Don’t speak, you’ll ruin it.”

Phil’s eyes crinkle like he’s smiling, and Dan is so focused on how the different shades of blue swirl in his eyes that he jumps when he feels a little nip at the palm of his hand. When he pulls his hand away, Phil giggles, likely at his expression.

“Did you just- you bit me!” Dan accuses, staring at his hand as if he’s been infected.

“I did,” Phil agrees gleefully. He leans closer, dropping his head to press his mouth to Dan’s shoulder. Their eyes are locked when Phil gently nips at the skin covered by Dan’s t-shirt.

Something about the look in Phil’s eyes and seeing him mouthing at his shoulder like that makes Dan’s stomach swoop with arousal, and he can’t stop the shiver that wracks through his body. “You’re not…” He lets out a breath before glancing back at Phil, finding the other man looking up at him with a mischievous smile. “You’re not like a cannibal or something, right?”

Phil laughs then but shakes his head and leans away from Dan’s shoulder. “No. You do look good enough to eat though.” Dan feels his skin flush then, and Phil seems to misunderstand the reasoning for this. “I’m sorry, am I being too forward? I just- I don’t know, I’m not great at like flirting, but-“

Dan interrupts him then. “No, I promise you’re doing just fine. I just- ah, I’m not really used to that kind of attention unless it’s followed pretty directly by… well, you know,” he stammers, feeling embarrassed at admitting yet another fault in his and Ben’s… arrangement.

Instead of being bothered by this, Phil only smiles, shaking his head. “That’s a shame. If you’ll allow it, I fully plan on showering you with horrible attempts at flirting and compliments.”

With a snort, Dan finalizes their order and closes his laptop, setting it on the coffee table. He tries his best to act unaffected by Phil’s words, but he can feel his heart racing at the idea of being pampered like that. He’d gotten so comfortable with hiding any feelings he had for Ben, so this sounded like some kind of heaven to him. “I guess, if there’s no way to stop you, I’ll probably just have to deal with it,” he sighs, as if it’s the biggest inconvenience in the world. He remembers then that he wanted to go shower, so he stands to do just that.

Before he can make it past the coffee table, Phil sticks his feet up, trapping him in. “You know we have like fifteen minutes before the pizza gets here,” he says, his eyes holding a suggestion Dan really doesn’t want to turn down, but he knows that he needs a shower more than he needs to mess around with Phil. Besides, if he was actually staying the night, they’d have time for that, if they still wanted it.

“I know, but I need a shower, and you probably need some time to make sure you’re not making a mistake by staying.” He means it as a joke, but as he looks down at Phil, he realizes it might not be. He feels his heart clench at the idea that even after all this Phil might still leave, but he pushes that away.

Phil frowns at him and leans forward suddenly, dropping his feet in favor of reaching a hand up, tugging Dan down by his shirt. Dan barely has a moment to catch himself on Phil’s shoulder before their lips are meeting, his eyes slipping closed at the contact. Phil doesn’t linger long, but as soon as he lets go of Dan’s shirt, he leans back and levels him with a serious look. “I’ve had plenty of time, Dan.”

Swallowing hard, Dan tugs at his shirt and chews his bottom lip. “You’ll still be here when I come back?” He asks, just to make sure.

A pained look crosses Phil’s face, and he nods. “I swear. I’m not going anywhere.”

Dan nods, and he knows he’ll just have to trust him this time. “Okay. I’ll be right back, then.”

He can feel Phil’s gaze following him as he walks out of the lounge and makes his way to his bathroom. Although Phil had just promised he wouldn’t leave, Dan rushes to shower and wash his hair, finishing in less than ten minutes in his rush to make sure that Phil kept his promise. As soon as he’s finished, he throws a towel around his waist and makes his way to his bedroom to put on some pajamas.

After pulling on a stripey t-shirt and a pair of pants, Dan pauses, pondering the pros and cons of bothering with any actual pajama bottoms. If the evening was going where he thought it was, he wouldn’t really want the extra layer later, but if it wasn’t… well, it might be a bit awkward.

Rather than sit and dwell on it for too long, he trades his underwear for a pair that is slightly looser, as well as a baggier t-shirt with ugly cats on it. It could pass for everyday pajamas, he hoped. As an afterthought, he tugs out a second pair of pants and another t-shirt for Phil, just in case he really did plan to stay.

Once he’s finished and he’s certain he isn’t going to lose his nerve to wear what he has on, Dan makes his way back to the lounge.

And for the second time, his world feels like it’s crashing down, as he’s met with an empty lounge.

[lostinletoland]

Bright Lights - Part Ten

Part Nine

Sophia’s POV

“Are you there?” I read his message in my state of drowsiness. I looked around to find myself in the darkness of my living room; it was practically midnight.

It had been almost a week since I had last seen Jared, and afterwards my routine had changed. The subsequent days I found myself looking online things about him. I also started listening to the music of his band, which I genuinely enjoyed.

I had checked some videos of their shows; Jared always had a lot of energy and gave off a vitality that spread to the public. I could not stop thinking about him above me — with a layer of sweat covering his attractive body — when I saw one of those videos, where he was shirtless and teasing the crowd. In my hours with him, I had deduced that tease was his thing.

Besides the online searches, in my routine now was the texting with Jared. We managed to talk a bit during the days, although not as much as I would like because of the time difference.

Looking at the message again I got up from the couch; apparently, I had fallen asleep trying to advance work for a client’s house reform since I got back from the office. “Yes, what’s up?” I replied as I headed to my room.

My phone buzzed again in less than a minute. “I wanted to tell you something…” This was unusual, in the messages of the last days he went straight to the point and he did not write me texts like this one. What was going on?

“What's wrong?” I responded instantly.

“Can we Skype? I don’t want to tell you this in a text.” As I was reading his message, I began to worry. What was he trying to say?

What if Jared was already tired of texting and didn’t want to talk with me anymore? If that was the case, it would hurt me to see him while he told me, although it would be worse if he just sent me a dull message. I know this may sound stupid, but when we chatted during those days I inevitably ended up smiling like a fool. Maybe I was starting to develop feelings towards Jared.

Not to mention the bizarre things he persuaded me to do. Needless to say, he brought out my wild side. An example of that was what we did the day before and I had never done, just the thought of it made me blush.

“So, say again what are you wearing…” Jared’s voice was deep on the other end of the phone.

“Jared! I can’t do this…” I whispered.

“C’mon, you’re already hidden from people’s eyes.” That was true, I just informed him that I locked myself in the office bathroom and there was no-one around. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t feeling reserved since I was on my lunch break, and he craved to do something completely new for me.

“But…” I started complaining; however, when I said 'but' he interrupted me, as he used to when we were together those days.

“Shh, okay. I’ll start…” Now his voice was lower. “I’m lying comfortably in bed. I just wake up and…” He paused, and I was imagining him wearing nothing just like when we were in that suite. “I’m completely naked.” A little moan escaped from my lips as his words filled up my ear confirming my suspicions. “Your turn.” He demanded.

“Jared…” I pleaded. I wasn’t sure if I could do it.

“Sophia.” He proclaimed my name in order to lead me to do what he inquired. And as if he had waved a magic wand, my body couldn’t resist him any longer.

“You’re the devil… I don’t know how you manage to convince me...” I declared going to the bathroom door to ensure it was fully closed.

“I’ve been called worse, beauty.” I could hear him grinning.

“I have on a white blouse and high waist jeans…” I described my clothes tilting my head analyzing myself in the mirror.

“What about the shoes?” Jared asked, any question that came out of his mouth was tinged with a natural eroticism. I chewed my lower lip as I observed my boots.

“Nude peep-toe booties.” I shrugged even though he couldn’t see me.

“And your underwear? Color?” He kept interrogating.

“White.” I timidly mumbled.

“That’s a nice look. I’m sure you look damn hot…” His husky voice was causing my core ache for him. He clearly knew how to seduce over the phone, and I was feeling awkward. “I’d love having you with me…” I unintentionally sighed.

“I don’t know what to say, Jared… I’ve never done phone sex and even less in a public place.” I confessed innocently.

“Let yourself go, follow my lead.” He soothed me. “And for the record, just the sound of that sweet voice of yours, has my dick awake…” I couldn’t help but smile as I bite my lip at that picture: Jared laid up in his bed, naked and with his free hand stroking himself.

“What do you want me to do?” I questioned him.

“Take a sit…” He waited until I whispered an okay. “Good. Now caress softly your neck skin with your dainty fingers pretending I’m the one touching you, then go down to your cleavage.”

“Mm-hmm, I wish I could feel your bare chest with my hands…” I responded doing what Jared told me.

“See? First time but you’re good. Don’t be shy with me…” He murmured, and I let out a another sigh.

And things went hotter from that point. His voice was giving me commands, and I was following them. I was more than aroused by this. Executing his orders, I found myself being a needy mess. His seductive words had my hand traveling to my right breast under the fabric and pinching my nipple.

I told him I would like to run my tongue over his chiseled chest and play with his nipples as well. Through the phone I detected a moan from Jared that made me squeeze my thighs together trying to ease my growing desire.

And without realizing my free hand went down to my pleasure center, I unbuttoned my pants and slipped it inside just like he dictated. In my mind was Jared’s digits touching me, and that thought had me close to the edge. A wave of electricity ran eagerly through my physique when I started circling my clit. “Describe me what are you doing, beauty.” As my fingers moved up and down my folds I was narrating my actions and feelings to him. And I have to admit that the phone sex was extremely hot, why I didn't try this before? Part of me was delighted that he had being the first.

With every passing second, I became closer to my release. And having Jared telling me how hard and throbbing was his shaft, was driving me crazy. “Oh, my God…” I breathed out.

“My naughty girl wants to cum, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, sir.” I mindlessly responded. “I’d love holding you inside me…” I muttered tilting my head back and closing my eyes when I experienced my orgasm being built and ready to travel all over me like a sultry breeze.

“Cum for me, beauty. And I’ll do it too.” His tone of voice was nothing more than a whisper, but it sent me to heaven.

Visualizing Jared touching himself in his bed and with his messy hair, his breathing controlling his chest’s movements and thinking about me, made me cum. I had to control myself to avoid crying out his name; I just let out a little moan. But in my ear, I heard Jared panting and grunting mine.

“Jesus Christ…” I whispered recovering my breath.

“I don't know if it’s convenient to name him, darling. He would not approve what you just did...” Jared joked, and I could perceive him smiling.

“Shh… shut up, Devil.” I teased back.

“Well, I'm sure you have things to do around the office. We talk later? "He asked taking me to the reality.

"Yes, have a nice day, Jared." I hung up still in shock.

“Yeah, sure.” I wrote back at the same time I turned on the computer. But my head was spinning, maybe after yesterday he’d got tired and wanted to put an end to whatever this was.

A few minutes later I was sitting with my legs crossed on the bed and the laptop was in front of me while I sent him a call request. I moved my right hand close to my lips and then I proceeded to bite nervously my fingernail as I waited for Jared to appear on the screen.

“Hi, Sophia.” His voice pulled me out of my thoughts, but it didn’t calm me down. I expected a ‘Hi, beauty’ accompanied with a charming smile, but both his tone and his face seemed serious. Would my assumptions be true?

“Hey…” I murmured viewing him through the computer. Damn, Jared looked so handsome, his blue eyes seemed two sapphires shining in the dark and I could feel the warm fuzzies. “So, what is it? I asked for a third time.

“I was thinking that maybe…” He kept his voice thoughtful and his right hand was running his fingers through the hair.

“Maybe, what? Maybe you’re done with this? Are you already bored?” After a few minutes thinking about it, I could not control the words that shot out of my mouth; but immediately I brought my hands to my lips, embarrassed by my hasty outburst.

“What?! What makes you imagine that?” Jared spoke confused as he narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t know…” I rubbed my forehead with one hand while I shrugged before continuing. “Today your attitude… I don’t know, you were different. You seem more serious and I… I…” My voice lowered until I didn’t know how to keep explaining myself.

“I wasn’t serious, I was nervous.” Wait, what? Jared nervous? This was new.

Perhaps that’s why I had misjudged his attitude, since I had never seen him this way, and partly because we haven't talked about feelings. Until now we had focused our relationship on something purely sexual. And for that reason my head was full of doubts, I knew what I felt for him; but in my mind, I presumed that Jared in me only saw a way to have fun and amuse himself.

“Nervous, why?” Now it was me who was confused.

“Because I wanted to ask you something. At first, I thought about not telling you… but later I figured it would be better to do it…” Jared was moistening his lips as the spoke and playing with his fingers. And all this mystery was driving me crazy.

~ To be continued ~

Part Eleven

Author’s note: Thank you for reading my story, it means a lot to me! Don’t forget to tell me your opinions, please! They’re important to me 💜 If you want to get tagged, just say it 😊

Tagging: @nikkitasevoli, @msroxyblog, @burritoverload

Masterlist

[bigyack-com]

How to Run a Business in 2020

In recent years, stars have lent their names to all kinds of sneaker collaborations. Puma had Rihanna. Reebok had Gigi Hadid. Adidas had Kanye West. Nike had … Jesus Christ?Not exactly. In October, a pair of “Jesus shoes” — customized Air Max 97s whose soles contained holy water from the River Jordan — appeared online for $1,425. They were designed by a start-up called MSCHF, without Nike’s blessing.The sneakers quickly sold out and began appearing on resale sites, going for as much as $4,000. The Christian Post wrote about them. Drake wore them. They were among the most Googled shoes of 2019.The only thing that didn’t happen, said Kevin Wiesner, 27, a creative director at MSCHF, was a public disavowal of the shoes by Nike or the Vatican. “That would’ve been rad,” he said.Now, in the MSCHF office in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn, a pair stands like a trophy.MSCHF isn’t a sneaker company. It rarely even produces commercial goods, and its employees are reluctant to call it a company at all. They refer to MSCHF, which was founded in 2016, as a “brand,” “group” or “collective,” and their creations, which appear online every two weeks, as “drops.”Many of those drops are viral pranks: an app that recommends stocks to buy based on one’s astrological sign (which some observers took seriously), a service that sends pictures of A.I.-generated feet over text, a browser extension that helps users get away with watching Netflix at work.As Business Insider recently noted, the present and future profitability of these internet stunts is dubious. Yet, according to filings with the Securities and Exchange Commission, MSCHF has raised at least $11.5 million in outside investments since the fall of 2019.In the high-risk, maybe-reward world of venture capital, the group’s antics are well known. Nikita Singareddy, an investment analyst at RRE Ventures, compared MSCHF to Vine and Giphy. All three, she said, offer “lots of delight” and encourage content sharing.“Sometimes investors are a little too serious about monetizing something immediately,” Ms. Singareddy said. “With MSCHF, there’s faith that it’ll pay off. There’s an inherent virality and absurdness to all the projects that they’ve created, and it’s something people want to share and ask questions about.”For starters: What is it?

‘This Is How We Live’

The MSCHF office says as much about the company as any of its products.A giant white pentagram covers the entrance floor. On a visit in December, an inflatable severed swan’s head dangled from a ceiling beam, and a rubber chicken bong — a recent drop — sat on a coffee table, full of weed.“My mom thinks we make toys,” said Gabriel Whaley, 30, the chief executive.MSCHF has 10 employees, nine of whom are men. The company Twitter and Instagram pages are private, so most of its direct marketing takes place not on social media but through text messages from a mysterious phone number.Though the team used to run a marketing agency, working with brands like Casper in order to fund MSCHF projects, they stopped taking on clients last year. Now, they pretty much do whatever they want.“The cool thing that we have going for us is we set this precedent that we’re not tied to a category or vertical. We did the Jesus shoes and everyone knows us for that, and then we shut it down,” Mr. Whaley said. “We will never do it again. People are like, ‘Wait, why wouldn’t you double down on that, you would have made so much money!’ But that’s not why we’re here.”The point, he said, is to produce social commentary; the “story” the sneakers told was more important than turning a profit. “There are several youth pastors that have bought a pair, and even more who are asking, like, ‘I love sneakers, and I love God. I would love a pair of these,’ and that wasn’t the point,” Mr. Whaley said. “The Jesus shoes were a platform to broach the idea while also making fun of it: that everybody’s just doing a collaboration now.”In order to prepare each drop — be it an object, an app or a website — MSCHF’s employees log long hours. Most mornings, Mr. Whaley gets to the office around 7; the rest of the team arrives by 10. They often stay late into the evenings, conducting brainstorms, perfecting lines of code, shooting live-streams or assembling prototypes. Weekends, Mr. Whaley said, aren’t really a thing.“It’s not just a full-time job,” he said. “This is how we live. The distinction between your work and normal life doesn’t really exist here, and it’s just because this is what we were all doing whether we were getting paid or not in our former lives. So nothing has really changed, except we have more power as a unit than we did as individuals.”Though Mr. Whaley eschews corporate titles, functional groups exist within MSCHF: idea generation, production, distribution and outreach. In their past lives, most of the staffers were developers and designers, some with art backgrounds, working at their own firms and for companies like Twitter and BuzzFeed. The oldest employee is 32, and the youngest is 22.Some C.E.O.s of Fortune 500 companies have tried to mentor Mr. Whaley and “shoehorn” MSCHF into a traditional business, he said. They insist MSCHF is building a brand, that it needs a logo, a mission, a go-to product that people recognize.But MSCHF doesn’t have a flagship product, or market its releases traditionally. “It just happens that anything we make tends to spread purely because people end up talking about it and sharing it with their friends,” Mr. Whaley said.That’s part of the appeal for V.C. firms. With software companies, for example, there are “very clear metrics and paths to monetization that are tried and true,” Ms. Singareddy said. For MSCHF, that path is less obvious.“Some of the best investments, even early on it wasn’t clear what the result would be, but you’re making an investment in the team,” she said. “That’s what makes a company like MSCHF so exciting. Venture is about taking reasoned risk — it’s a true venture capital opportunity.”

Banksy for the Internet

Mr. Whaley talks a lot about what MSCHF is and who the people who work there are — and aren’t. Running ads on subways, or trying to build a social media following, or landing a spot on the Forbes “30 Under 30” list isn’t who they are. He cringes at the word “merch.” (“The day we sell hoodies is the day I shut this down.”)To observers, critics and followers, the company’s portfolio may amount to a very successful string of viral marketing campaigns, a series of jokes or something like art.“I don’t see anybody doing exactly what MSCHF is doing,” said Frank Denbow, a technology consultant who works with start-ups. “Everybody is able to get a one-off campaign that works, but to consistently find ways to create content that really sticks with people is different. It reminds me of Banksy and his ability to get a rise out of people.”On Twitter and Reddit, users trade theories and tips about MSCHF’s more cryptic offerings, such as its most recent, password-protected drop, Zuckwatch — a website that looks like Facebook and appears to be commentary on data privacy.Among these ardent fans, the drops are treated as trailheads, or entry points, setting off mad, winding dashes in search of cracking the code. Other followers, less devoted, may only know MSCHF for its Jesus shoes, which Mr. Wiesner said have been knocked off by sellers around the world. He is happy about it. “If we can make things that people run away with, that’s absolutely the dream,” he said. “Most of what we make is us personally running away with stuff.”Ahead of the presidential election, MSCHF’s employees plan to take on more political projects. (A drop in November, involving a shell restaurant, enabled users to mask political donations as work expenses; it was promptly shut down.) The company also hopes to expand beyond apps and objects to experiences and physical spaces.“Everything is just, ‘How do we kind of make fun of what we’re observing?’” Mr. Whaley said. “Then we have as much fun with it as possible and see what happens.” Read the full article

[allthingsnine]

Ahh, I love this kiss thing. I'll take Kensei with a #5, pretty please and thank you!

Kiss Prompt: “Kissesthat trail from the collar bone to the neck up to the jaw, to the cheek,getting closer and closer to the lips until the two finally kiss”

Pairing(s): Kenseix reader

For this one, I’mdoing a Fairy Tail AU! (The only major person from the FT cast you’ll prollysee is Mirajane, and that too her matchmaker side, so no issues!)

“Thank you so much, dearie,” The old lady that you help getdown from the train says gratefully. You smile and nod at her and ask, “You’rewelcome, ma’am. Will you need any help getting home?”

“I’ve taken care of that beforehand my dear, it won’t be aproblem. And how is that hand of yours?” She asks, looking concernedly at yourright hand, which is wrapped in bandages, right up to your elbow (though shecan’t see that bit).

“It’s okay now,” A sheepish grin forms on your lips as youremember how your hand got burnt. You’d gone solo on a job to retrieve a stolenreligious artefact in Shirotsume town as it was a pretty simple job. The flyer,unfortunately, had neglected to include the fact that said relic was also acursed one, which was how you got your arm and hand burnt as you tried to pickit up.

You’d made sure to have it checked out at the town for anylingering effects of the curse, but luckily it had been a minor curse, merelyto dissuade any thieves from stealing it. The pain had gradually faded over thejourney back to Magnolia, so now it only hurts if you apply pressure on it.

You then walk to the entrance of the station, hoping tocatch one of the cabs to take you back to the guild. As you get in one of them,you pull out your phone (the words communicationlacrima are just too freaking long)to text your friends.

Group chat

You: Minna! I’mback!

Within a minute, it pings as your friends start replying. Asthe cab starts moving, you read the replies with a smile.

Group chat

Mashiro: ___-chan!YAY!!!

Hisagi: How didit go?

You: Okayish. Didyou guys miss me?

Mashiro: YESSS!

Hisagi: Ofcourse!

Suddenly you see the notification of someone else PMing you.It’s Kensei.

Kensei: Okayish?

Kensei: You okay,­­­___?

For some reason, your cheeks turn red as you reply.

You: Aside from afew burns on my arm, I’m okay.

Kensei: Burns? Ithought you said the job was safe!

You: It’s notthat bad!

Kensei: Fuckinghell!

Kensei: How’d ithappen?

You: Loooongstory. I’ll tell you when I get there, k?

Kensei: Noediting ANYTHING.

Kensei: Comefast. I miss you.

He misses me? Something pleasurable seems totwist in your gut as you re-read his last message. He really misses me…no, hold that train of thought ___! You’ve beenreading too many romance novels lately! You type out your response (‘I’m onmy way’), your cheeks turning redder and redder by the second with the numberof scenarios buzzing in your head. No,that’s too unrealistic-Jesus McFrigging Christ, how cheesy can I get?!

By the time you’ve reached the guild, you’ve gotten rid ofyour blush, and get down and approach the building after paying the cabbie.

The guild is mostly empty, with only one or two members atthe tables, drinking and chatting with each other animatedly. At the bar, yousee someone slouching on one of the stools. As you walk to the bar, you seethat it’s Kensei, who straightens up the minute he sees you. He motions hishead towards the hallway. You follow him to the secluded hallway.

“Spill.” His gaze lands on your bandaged arm as he faces you.You explain how your job went, starting from your meeting with the client, toexploring the old temple where the relic was rumoured to be placed, to youactivating that stupid curse that resulted in your arm covered in blisters andburns when you held it with your bare hand. At that point, he gently grasps yourarm and looks at it as though to properly examine it. Your hand is tiny, incomparison to his.

“Does it hurt?” He asks you. You can hear the concern in histone clearly.

“Only if you put pressure on it.” You quietly say, feelingyour cheeks heat up again as he brings it closer to his face. Suddenly, hebrings it to his mouth and kisses it.

“Kensei-” Your entire face heats up now; your mouth opens toask him what he’s doing, but you can’t seem to say anything. He now startskissing each finger, slow and gentle.

“Am I hurting you?” His voice is low and husky; this isdoing absolutely nothing to stop that growing pleasant feeling in your belly.

“No…” You can only breathe as he now plants kisses on yourpalm, on your wrist, up your arm, on your shoulder. He backs you up against thewall as he now plants light kisses on your collarbone, his strong arms cagingyou in. You close your eyes and sigh as he works his way up your throat. Hekisses, your jaw, your cheek, getting closer and closer to your lips…

When he stops at the corner of your lips, you give anirritated whine. He started this, he’dbetter finish this, you think as you open your eyes to gaze into his.

“May I?” He asks, his warm breath washing over your face,his voice barely a whisper.

“I think I might throttle you if you don’t,” You whisperback urgently.

Unlike the other, fluttering, kisses, this one is all heat.

[bluesakurablossom]

Life's Gift Of Love: Mikey's Love Story

Name: Skylar Richards Age: 18 Height: 5'7 Hair Color: None Eye Color: Green Skin Color: Pale white Ethnicity: American Personality: Loving, courageous, stubborn, sarcastic, artistic, and gentle hearted As teenage leukemia victim Skylar Richards stared death in the face she could not have imagined that the illness would lead her to love and happiness. For many years her life has been dominated by her desperate struggle against the disease, but in an echo of meeting and saving an orange banded turtle, she had found reason to live again. Can love really overcome a deadly obstacle? Chapter 1 Skylar's Pov...
Late in the winter of my eighteenth year, I decided I was severely depressed. Probably because I have one of the most deadliest diseases coursing the blood and bones. Leukemia. I have had this disease for over ten years now and there has been no signs of improvement. I rarely left my small apartment I rented in the middle of Manhattan except to leave to go to work. I often would just sit with the many pets that I own that I saved from critical situations and devoted quite a bit of my abundant free time to be thinking about death. Whenever you hear or read anything about leukemia, one of the most serve side effects is depression. But the fact is that depression wasn't a side effect, it was clear sign that I was dying. Well pretty much everything else is really. I have been living on my own for three years now since I left my mom. We really drifted apart after my dad had left me when he found out that I had been diagnosed with this disease. I think really she blames me for all of us not being together anymore. Even after I left thinking I would be finally able to get happy again having my own independence, it seemed to not change. Something just felt missing from my life. I went to my local hospital to see my regular doctor and she agreed that I was swimming in a pool of clinical depression and that I need to do something before it gets any worse. The chemotherapy I had been getting was depressing as hell. I had to met there every Thursday in the same room, laying on the same uncomfortable bed, and getting poked and prodded by needles. I was honestly at the point of why do I even bother still come in every week to get this treatment when it doesn't seem to be doing anything to help cure this. I would always get the treatments in the same arm and I feel like I have lost the feeling it in every time a needle get pushed in. I noticed that the nurses that would give me these treatments would tell me every time that I look like I have been improving, but really they are just masking the truth, trying to lift my spirits. When really they should just flat out tell me and not butter me up. Luckily my life did have some good in it. I had a really good paying job at the tattoo parlor near my place. I earned my license to start my own practice by the time I had turned seventeen. To celebrate, I even got my very first tattoo at the place I work at and they hired me just a week later. I was working my way up to take over the shop when my boss Bryan would retire and I was getting rather close. I never knew why I liked tattoos so much. I guess they just show what you really are inside, a true imprint of what makes you, you. I started getting into designing my own art work when I turned thirteen and continued on doing this until I applied for school to get my tattoo license. Even though that my job did give me some happiness and temporary relief from the depressing hell that I so call my life, it really just hurts me that I really have no one to be with or talk to. Sure I have my boss and co workers but they all have their own lives to attend to and family was out of the question. I was at home watching TruTv Top Funniest, trying to get a good laugh going after coming back from chemotherapy at the hospital, but the sound of my vibrating phone interrupted my attention. It was my mom. Me: I refuse to take anymore of this chemotherapy Mom: Do you want to get better or not? We have talked about this many times Skylar, you won't get better if you allow your stubbornness to get in the way Me: What's even the point?! I am not getting better, I am stuck where I have been for nearly over a decade! Mom: Skylar, you are a teenager nearly grown, you are not a little kid anymore. You need to try to find something to get your energy back up and go out and make friends, get out of the house, and live your life Me: Speak for yourself, I barely had a life after dad left me and you and I separating, and you are not the one with a deadly disease coursing through your body! I threw my phone on the couch refusing to answer anymore messages. I really hate that mom and I fight all the time. We were so close, she was my best friend in the whole world. But after dad left us, it seemed like that strong bonding chain just broke, like a pair of chain cutters came along and separated us both. I wanted my family back, this wasn't meant to happen. I was suppose to be getting all the love and support I need in order to cope and navigate through the difficulties of battling a life threatening disease. I wanted to be happy again. There is only one thing in this world that is shittier than someone like me getting cancer so young, is that I am allowing it to consume every bit of chance of happiness. About now I had enough and I had to get out of the house for a little while before I would scream. I got up from the couch passing my sleeping cat on her little bed curled up. She immediately woke up and followed me into my bedroom, jumping on my circular bed. "Hey Kisa you pretty kitty", I said, smiling a little petting her head My fluffy calico cat with yellow eyes purred rubbing her head against my hand. She always could help me bring a little smile to my face. I changed out of my sweats and slipped on a long sleeve pink shirt, putting a short camouflage shirt over it, and slipping into dark blue skinnies. I slipped on my pair of pink vans and I grabbed my short red bandanna tying it around my bald head. The day that when my hair started to fall out it was the saddest day of my life. I would just be taking fists full of my pale blonde hair and let it fall into the trash can. I opted to shave the rest of it off because so much was falling out at one time and it was covering everything. But for some reason I didn't cry when I saw my newly shaved head. To most people baldness is the sign of sickness, and even though I was told I had a beautiful head, I never saw myself that way. It looked like a permeant defeat. I had grabbed my green tote bag that was carrying my oxygen tank inside and I slipped on the breathing tubes up my nose and hang over my ears. I hated wearing these things. It made so vulnerable to the world, but I had to wear it to help with my breathing when it came to the smog that floated up in the air in this place I called home. I adjusted the pressure making high concentrated levels of oxygen fill up my nose. "Love you Kisa, see you later", I said, giving her ear a few scratches gently I grabbed my phone before putting it my pocket and locking my door on the way out. I walked down three flights of stairs before making my way out of the door and out on to the sidewalk. It was turning out to be a casual night, everything seemed to be pretty normal. Or so I thought. When I was walking along a quiet street I was feeling finally relaxed after dealing with the stresses of home, work and therapy. I considered my walks through the neighborhood to be a great therapy for me in order to relieve stress and break free, if only they could help me with leukemia. I heard my phone vibrate again and I checked to see it was mom again. I sighed annoyed as I continued walking reading her long text of why we are not so close anymore and why did I choose to do the things I wanted to do in life. I really didn't want to deal with it as I have already enough of her bickering from earlier. I clicked on the text and I clicked delete as the message went into the trash can. "Why do you think mom? Jesus christ", I said, to myself Right when I was about to walk again, my heart nearly stopped beating when a metal object was thrown in front of my face stabbing into the concrete, just barely an inch from hitting me. I could of literally seen my life flash before my eyes as I almost slipped backwards towards a staircase. "Holy chalupa", I said, panting hard I walked up to the object and I yanked it out of the wall and it was a flying ninja star. I recognized it from doing designs for some of my clients. It was really beautiful, even more than just seeing picture and designs. It was a gleaming silver with six sharp points and in the center was a design I have never seen before. There was a turtle in the middle of outlined in black. "Wow", I said, looking at the object with amazement I then heard screams as I barely had time to turn and duck down as another star came flying towards me barely snagging on my bandanna. "What in the world?!", I said I saw from across the street that there was an intense fight was being taken place. Not like a local street bar fight that would be easily defused by the police, I am talking about like mixed martial arts fighting. There were many men fighting some huge shadow and I tell you what he was kicking ass. One the men went charging towards him and he back flipped kicking him in the jaw, causing him to fall on his knees. Another man went up on his right, wielding a sword in his hand and he tried to strike at the huge shadow. But he was quick to jump back at each strike and he grabbed one of his arms and head butt him right in the face. "Ow, gonna feel that in the morning", I said, to myself I decided to get a closer look on the action and I snuck close enough at the edge of the alley and knelt down to keep a low profile, not wanting to become apart of it. Another man then used a long stick and grabbed a hold of him by choking him from behind. I gasped and I immediately grabbed the first thing I saw in front of me, an empty beer bottle and threw it across the air. "Duck!", I called out Luckily he heard me and duck his head down just in time as the bottle smashed into bits into the man's face. He then swooped his legs out from under him and he fell on his back. Another man then charged at him from the side and pinned him against the brick wall and he kneed him int he gut and ridge hand him on the side of the head, then side kicked him into a dumpster. I then saw one other man get up and pull out a long stick and I could see electricity between the two metal prods. He then struck him in the back, making the huge shadow scream in pain. "Oh god!", I said, to myself Two more came charging in with the same prods shocking him repeatedly. He struggled to reach out and crawl away from the torture devices, but one stomped on his back a few times with such brute force and even then stomping down on his head into the concrete, where I could slightly hear bones cracking. He groaned in pain before it started to silent, going unconscious from the electricity shocking him. Several men grabbed his huge muscular arms and began to drag him away as he limply laid against the ground. I knew this was beyond dangerous, but I wanted to help in some way without getting myself killed or the victim in the process. I then looked down at my tote bag and I unzipped it open seeing my oxygen tank inside and across from me was a metal pipe laying on the ground behind a pile of junk. I quickly reacted and pulled my tank out of my bag unhooking myself from it as I laid it on the ground and I grabbed the pipe and getting in front of the tank. "Hey dingbats!", I called out The figures stopped what they were doing and looked towards me, I then spun the pipe in my hand. "Surfs up!", I said I then whacked the metal pole down on the regulator on my tank smashing it open and the air entering the tank caused so much pressure that it started smoking up and it went flying like a rocket towards them. The tank crashed into one figure and it ricocheted off the brick walls knocking each figure to the ground, like a balloon letting all its air out releasing a cloud of smoke. The air tank smashed one more in the head before it landed on top of his chest, knocking the wind out of him. "Woo!", I said, doing a victory jump I picked up my bag and slinging it over my shoulder as I started making my way over towards the person those figures beating up. He was struggling to his feet and I started to jog over, but I stopped suddenly when I saw the huge size of this person crawl on his hands and knees, trying to get to his feet. I was not quite sure I would recognize someone that muscular. His muscles were huge in size, bigger than what I would see on a body builder. His long and slender shadow had covered me completely from the light of the lamp post above. Something was dangling around his neck in two strands, like long hair or dreadlocks or something. He didn't appear to have any hair on top of his head, kind of like me. He looked about my age, maybe a little older. His posture was poor as he stood up from the ground picking up a nunchuck. "Are you okay?", I asked, walking up He suddenly whipped looking me at in my direction, the prettiest blue eyes were looking at me. Even though I couldn't see his face so well I was already intrigued by the beauty of them. When I came closer making sure I didn't injure when I let my tank go flying, he took off running. A mixture of confusion and concern struck me as I started to run after him down the alley. "Wait! Wait! Come back! I won't hurt you!", I called out I then saw him jump against one of the buildings and jump across towards the other beside it, doing a zig zag. I skid to a halt as I reached the end of the alley and I looked up to the rooftop, to see he looked back down at me before taking off disappearing into the night. I then heard a flapping noise coming from behind me and I saw this artwork that looked to be in Japanese in orange and purple spray paint and there was a yellow sticky note right in front of the now dried graffiti. I gently took it off the brick wall and saw there was a message on it. "Thanks, I owe you one-Mikey" "Mikey?", I said, to myself I flipped over the note to see nothing more than just the message and I looked back up to the night sky where I guess now known as Mikey had disappeared to. How could a normal human have such ability to jump that high and disappear that quickly, let alone fight like a professional? I then looked back down at the note and held it with both of my hand and I saw at the bottom of the note there was smiley face winking. "Well then, I guess you owe me one...Mikey", I said