#less than 21 days apart...' and i need to know if that means 21 days between the end of one period and the beginning of the next

[coquelicoq]

literally my periods have been so weird for so many years i don't even remember how they're supposed to go. one week on, three weeks off? am i supposed to have three weeks between periods?

[diamond-champagne]

Point of View

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

In which sometimes you need someone else's POV

Part II

It's like you got superpowers

Turn my minutes into hours

Paige is struggling

She’s tired from the lack of sleep, sore from practice, and stressed from school. Paige isn’t necessarily sure when she started to feel like everything was too much but everyday she feels herself giving way to the pressure and expectations that she and others place on her. 

The blonde isn’t sure when it all got to be so hard. It wasn’t always this difficult but somewhere between studying on planes and not getting enough sleep something in her had snapped. 

It was like those huge buckets at the waterpark that slowly filled with water and on a set interval turned to drench all the little ones with water. Except there was nothing playful or even exciting about how Paige was feeling. She was simply just waiting to tilt over; to let it all out. And when everything became too much and she spilled over, Paige would adjust herself and keep it moving because she doesn’t have time to dwell in it; whatever it is. Not when there’s workouts to be had, homework to do, and events to attend. 

So, Paige pushed through despite how much she didn’t want to. She pushed through practice, studying, and she’s pushing through the group outing at Ted’s. The blonde doesn’t want to go but she doesn’t want to miss out on what could possibly be her favorite moments with her favorite people. The basketball player also doesn’t want anyone to think less of her or know she’s anything less than 100 percent. 

It takes damn near all of her energy but she manages. Cue fake laughter here and a small joke there. Insert a smirk there and faux interest here. Every movement planned and placated specifically to not raise any eyebrows. 

But then Azzi arrives and suddenly Paige isn’t acting anymore because her laugh is real and the banter is effortless. Her smirk is natural and she hangs onto every word that Azzi says because she wants to memorize her voice for years to come. Slowly but surely the dark cloud that has been a permanent fixture over Paige has evaporated and the body that used to lag with exhaustion is now buzzing with energy.

The best friends have only been engaging in conversation for a few minutes but Paige swears that Azzi has been fighting off the looming darkness for a lifetime. 

You got more than 20-20, babe

Made of glass the way you see through me

You know me better than I do

Can't seem to keep nothing from you

Maybe Azzi has been fighting off the dark cloud that seems to follow Paige. It seems to be the case when she shows up at the older girl’s apartment one day to demand answers. 

Paige doesn’t immediately give in though, wanting to not bother her best friend with her own battles. Her not being able to swim does not mean Azzi is to drown.

“What are you talking about?” Paige asks. The blonde thinks she might have gotten too good at lying because the way her voice goes up a pitch and her head cocks to the side is so natural to her, she almost believes that she doesn’t know what Azzis is really asking her. Almost.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Bueckers.” Azzi growls. The use of her last name makes Paige flinch and that makes Azzi soften. The curly-haired girl is simply tugging on the tether that keeps them connected and afloat. The last thing she wants to do is push them further away. So despite the frustration that flows through her veins, she takes a deep breath before reaching for her favorite blonde-haired girl. 

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Azzi whispers in Paige's ear as she engulfs her in a hug. Her tone is soft like she’s trying not to scare her blue-eyed girl away. It is accompanied by a soft hand that runs from the base of her neck to the end of her back. 

Paige doesn’t know what exactly causes her to break like a cheap rubber band but suddenly she wipes one tear. And another. And another until there’s too many and her body is shaking. 

She guesses that despite not wanting her team to know, she wishes that someone did; that someone cared enough to see when she wasn’t okay.

Azzi knew. Of course she did.

How you touch my soul from the outside?

Permeate my ego and my pride

“Babe, tell me what’s wrong.” Azzi gently demands of her best friend. The words acted as a key for a lock that Paige didn’t know existed because suddenly she can’t stop talking. 

She’s going on and on about her classes and then work and the team. How everything is too much. How it’s all pulling her in different directions. How she feels the need to be everything to everyone and nothing to herself. Is she allowed to not want everything she’s worked so hard for? Is she allowed to breathe?

When she’s done, the boulder that has situated itself on Paige’s chest is gone but it’s pain is still prevalent. Her vision is blurry and spotty. Her voice feels so far away as if she’s not in her own body. Her ears are hot and her heartbeat is loudly beating through them. 

Paige is spiraling but well maybe not. 

Because soon, Azzi’s voice is in her ear telling her to match her breathing and Paige feels a cold hand over her heart before those same hands are pulling her closer.

“Babe, why didn’t you tell me?” The question rings on the blonde’s ears but she can’t answer because Azzi has tears running down her face and the sight is devastating to Paige. 

“Don’t cry” the blonde whispers as she reaches to wipe the stray tears from her Azzi’s face. The action causes the younger girl to chuckle because how is it that the most caring person she knows is experiencing so much pain.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to be a burden. I also didn’t want the team to think I wasn’t 100 percent. It’s been tough since my injury and the last thing I need is for people to doubt me again because I can’t handle a little pressure.”

“Look at me.” Azzi commands. She waits until her favorite pair of blue eyes meet hers before continuing. “You could never be a burden, P. No one worth listening to would ever doubt you for your internal struggles. It’s shitty, yes but this does not define who you are.”

Paige nods a little before leaning in to hug her best friend once more before settling herself on Azzi’s chest.

“You don’t have to be 100 percent to be loved, Paige. I love you through it all.”

“I love you too”

[fountainpenguin]

Riddle watches New Wish - Post #21

Best of Wish

This is way more intense of a Rock-Paper-Scissors competition than I expected. I love how the stakes in this show are kid-themed, but still flashy enough to be engaging.

For some reason, even though I know Dev's surname is Dimmadome, it's still funny to hear a kid be announced like that. For years, that's been an "old man name" burned into my mind.

Are they allowed to do that?? Does apple beat worm?

He's just a little guy! You wouldn't beat a little guy at Rock, Paper, Scissors, c'mon!!

Time of his life.

Dev: I cheated! And you're supposed to be SAD now! That's the whole point!!

Dev is having a very hard time dealing with his emotions. I am definitely enjoying him screaming about how he cheated to win and that means Hazel should be miserable now. You can just TELL the words he's throwing out reflect how he feels and he's super confused as to why she congratulated him on his win.

-> Gives me similar vibes to Foop in "Blue Angel" screaming about how it wasn't fair that Chloe kept forgiving him despite his best efforts to tear her apart, although I think the emotions are being played better in this set-up.

-> With Foop, even though he also has a messed-up past (37 years of solitary confinement from the day he was born according to my frozen timestream notes), he was born with murderous rage, and his culture definitely leans in the direction of encouraging that.

With Dev, you know he's lashing out with things that would hurt him specifically and that he's having a really rough go of things. I like that.

If I'm feeling like Dev reminds me of Foop, that kind of implies Dev and Peri are supposed to me a good match that balance each other out. I like that.

That checks out- Peri has doting parents and wants LESS attention, and Dev can't keep his dad's focus and wants MORE attention. Peri's the one who keeps trying to rein Dev in and Dev is always trying to get Peri to go further.

Agency knew what they were doing when they assigned this pair, huh?

/war flashbacks to Foop being distraught that his parents left him alone for spring break back in the day.

THERE HE IS!!

Irep implying he didn't have a choice in his name change? I wonder what the reasoning was, since he even says it's "Harder to pronounce" than Foop? Curious...

As much as he hated his name when he was born (Season 7), he was very attached to it by "Love Triangle" (Season 8), correcting Goldie every time she got it wrong until he finally snapped and screamed at her about how "It's not that difficult!"

Goldie got Fairy names right, AND every character in the school play right, but never bothered to learn her one Anti-Fairy classmate's name despite all the time they spent rehearsing for the play and him making it very clear he wanted her to say it right. Big yikes.

He's very proud of his name in later episodes (announcing himself often) and has his business cards. I mean... Sure, he's allowed to change it- It just surprises me that he's heavily implying it was against his will since his attachment to his name was such a big part of his character in my memory.

He's developed an entirely new identity, lmao. Who are you?

Potentially setting up a plot about how he's mad he has to copy Peri, but I feel like there would've been easier ways to do that?

I assume the logic here is that it needs to be clear to Hazel and/or viewers that they're opposites (We got the info here, but he'll probably appear in future episodes where it needs to be clear to prevent confusion for people just tuning in), but if that's the goal...

W... why would he not just change his name to Anti-Peri?

Plot twist of the century: They bring back Anti-Cosmo and Anti-Wanda, but their names are Osmoc and Adnaw now and we all suffer for it.

/record scratch

Hey, um. Why did they give Irep body language that was pretty much exclusive to Foop's alternate personality??

You're really gonna play me like this??

Straight out of the GATE!?

Okay, I just rewound to his first appearance of this episode and I do see the Foop-exclusive body language in Irep too, but... ???

Just really caught me off guard to see two poses I've burned into my memory as "alt personality things" back to back in like, 10 seconds, but okay. I don't care if this is a tangent; the actual episode can wait. It's important to me...

All right, the context:

So, OG Foop does fists when he's frustrated / scheming / cackling / nervous (usually above his head or down by his sides).

His alter does upturned fists when he's praising / cheerful. That's always been one of their switch cues, from the alter's debut in "Playdate of Doom" (Season 7) up through the last implied switch in "Return of the L.O.S.E.R.S." (Season 10).

Even the very first onscreen switch in Season 7 ("Playdate") depicts the alter holding his fists like that, before the double eye highlights were introduced in "Spellementary School"-

-and he does the fists several times throughout his first episode.

Other body language habits include big, flat hands lifted towards the mouth, plus clasped hands. In other words, the alter is more "dainty" and "gushy" compared to Foop- I've always imagined him "doing everything over-the-top and unironically."

Don't confuse that with him being the nicest person, though. He's very funny; I like in the OG series when he's totally down to butt heads with Poof and coos "Does Mr. Popular want to fight~?"

Like. Logically, I know that is just a weird coincidence. There's no way the storyboard folks studied that, and there's no way they're planning to bring the alter back, because if they were, I'm sure he would've been blatant in this episode.

Foop's not using his high-pitched voice here and we can't use his eye highlights as a faithful signal since that's on-model for this show, but...

I mean... He's talking about Da Rules when he does the upturned fists. That does fit the "grumpy / scheming" energy which is correct for Foop (although he usually pumps his fists above his head or clenches them down by his sides instead of upturning them like this), but... ???

Wow, that is not a pose I'm used to seeing on Foop instead of his alter. I've written this little guy in 'fic a bunch of times; I know his body language pretty well and it was a switch cue for 3 seasons??

I'm okay. It's fine.

Also, here's a video showcasing their switches. Volume warning:

I just found out I missed one switch in "Terrible Twosome" when Poof gives him chocolate (even before his Terrific Twos kicked in), and I was always unclear on the full diner scene in "When L.O.S.E.R.S. Attack" (though I don't remember why; maybe because the voice is deep despite the highlights and I'm only rethinking it 6 years later), but... Them.

-> I do count "Terrible Twosome" as essentially the alter because the eye highlights, voice change, music change, and clenched fists all match the standard, but I'd accept arguments to the contrary since it's confirmed all Anti-Fairies have some version of Terrific Twos, and this is the only one we have for reference.

I was today years old watching this old compilation when I realized the music consistently zigzags between super cheery and dark when they switch, even outside "Terrible Twosome," which was where I remembered it. No... It's been there since "Playdate of Doom." Huh.

Okay, so... This is actually really interesting. When they switch, the music does too, but their music doesn't overlap. It's a very clear, jarring switch. There's often, though not always, a pause before this switch (such as their very rapid back-and-forth in "Playdate of Doom"). I've learned something new. Huh.

... Wait a sec.

They wouldn't...

...

Hey, uh ???

why does the tense music in "Best of Luck" cut off immediately before Irep temples his hands, drop to silence, and then switch the thumping part of the music to the cheery part underneath it and put the thumping part underneath the cheery bit instead?

I already used my one video for this post, but I can post the audio. It's subjective; I'm sure it's not supposed to indicate anything, so just bear with me...

- Okay, so we have this dark "BUM-bum, BUM-bum, BUM-bum" pattern. That goes for 12 seconds into this clip before fading out. - Note that you can hear, like... a scale underneath, like a swish, 4 or 5 seconds in. Right as 12 seconds turns to 13, there's a "sparkle noise". - And then we drop. And silence. So, that's the exact moment before Irep temples his hands.

- NOW the cheery scale in the music is louder and the thumps are very faded in the background, but definitely still there. - So, the stings are no longer "always switching, but never overlapping" the way they were in the OG series, apparently.

- Irep clasps his hands and says a couple more words, then drops his hands on "quitting." - RIGHT THEN, his music switches back to loud tension.

What the fliiiippp... what the fliiiiiippp?

?? I said I could see Foop-exclusive body language in him too earlier in this episode. Are they together again? Is that why they're sharing the music sting!?

SURELY that is not intentional. That HAS to be coincidence. I cannot imagine a world where that is on purpose. I'm losing my mind.

I... I don't really know where to go from here. I gotta lie down.

Bonus notes about the fists I moved down here due to length:

Okay, upon review, there are several ambiguous moments in the OG series where Foop himself makes potentially joyful fists instead of scheming fists, such as:

- When trying to fool Jorgen into thinking he's rehabilitated in "Playdate of Doom" (and Jorgen clocks him as lying) - When he's trying to sweet-talk Poof in "Two and a Half Babies" (and Poof also clocks him as lying) - Both times he's brownnosing up to Crocker in "School of Crock" (and Crocker clocks him for it) AND when he's sweet-talking the principal to trick him into activating his door trap. He also makes the fists when he's mimicking Poof in his first scene, so... he pretty much does it anytime he's "not being Foop," lol. -> In that case, it's funny he makes those fists when telling Poof in the closing scene that he's "sorry for trying to annihilate him." That said, he DOES switch a few seconds later while gushing over how Sammy Sweetsparkle is "kind of a bad boy." -> Clasped hands (also a thing his alter does a lot) is ALSO something Foop does when he's blatantly lying (The last of the Snow Wanda scene in "Fairly Odd Fairy Tales" is a good example, but I saw other episodes too). - Continuing with ambiguity talk, he does the joyful fists both times he enters the pet shop in "Man's Worst Friend," (a scene where he seems to switch multiple times, so it's clearly a place that affects him, but he doesn't have eye highlights when he first enters the building) - When the Anti-Fairy Council names him a scary godparent in "Fairy Godcouple" and he grins and says "Bring it on!" (though I can see that as scheming about what he can do with this power) - At the end of "Fairly Odd Fairy Tales" when he's trying to coax Timmy into eating his food and Wanda hands him a treat, interrupting his scheme (and he leaves his fists in the air while expressing interest in the treat) - The first time he meets Vicky during "When L.O.S.E.R.S. Attack" (when she joins the team's plan to get Timmy, so... arguably scheming, though the alt personality is known for crushes - and had eye highlights when asking Crocker if the mystery person he wanted to bring in was single - so I'd accept that as an answer).

Yes, I did drop everything to rewatch every Foop episode for this. hey man how's it going.

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Kinktober day 21/22: Sex toys + recording - Soap x reader

Warnings/tags: fem!reader, sex toys, recording. Soap being an asshole, Sopa being an idiot, Soap being a menace to reader. PIV sex.

You make the grave mistake of letting Soap find your dildo.

Soap who, the first time you bring toys into the bedroom, acts like a complete and utter shit.

He fucks you with a dildo- laughing as you whine and fall apart for him. Usually, he’d be just as gone- if not more so. He’s completely unable to control himself once he gets inside you, meaning he’s not ever really mean.

He just doesn’t have the patience for any of that- because in order to tease or deny you, he’d have to stop fucking you, or maybe even pull out for a minute. (Oh the horror!!) Soap just isn’t one for self control. But hey, it’s worked so far! You always get off at least once, and if anything, Soap’s just a big puppy: over eager, impatient, but very loving.

So when he stumbled across the small, silicone toy you keep in the drawer of your nightstand for when Soap’s not home and practically begged to use it on you- you figured, why not?

And oh how you regret it. Because turns out, when Soap doesn't have his dick inside something, he turns into an absolute menace. The man’s been fucking you with your own toy for what feels like hours- laughing as you cry in need and desperately try to buck up into it.

He’s been going slow- a pace that you’ve never had from soap before. But the worst part by far is the teasing.

“Come on lovie, if you can push it out, then you can have my cock!” He teases, a shit-eating grin on his face as he holds his phone up, recording your efforts as you whine and squirm- grabbing desperately at the bed sheets as you tense your muscles and try to push the goddamn toy out of you.

He’s done this before- practically all night in fact. Just laughing and enjoying the view. Watching in fascination as you struggle to push the silicon toy out of your cunt so he’ll finally stop torturing you.

Only to push the toy right back into you when you manage to get part of it out- laughing loudly in amusement as you sob and blindly try to kick out at him and get away.

And he’s been recording it the whole time too, of course. Recording the lewd squelch your pussy makes as he fucks the dildo in and out of you- zooming in as you try to force the toy out at his command- moving the camera up to your face as he teases you over your utterly debauched state.

Oh, he is going to get it after this. You’ll make sure of it. And he’ll never see this fucking dildo again- much less be allowed to use it on you again- not when he’s such an absolute prick with it.

Once again, he pushes the dildo back into you- just as it’s about to finally come out. He holds it inside you with a single finger- laughing as you break down and go limp against the mattress- tears falling freely down your face.

“P-please! Just fuck me already!” You beg, nearly whining when he responds with the same condescending, teasing voice and amused laugh he’s been using all night. “Oh? But I am fucking you!”

You practically scream- throwing your head back and sobbing as Johnny finally takes pity on you, saying something you don’t quite catch as he pulls the toy out of you and tosses it to the side.

He keeps your legs held apart, lowering himself as he presses his- still recording- phone close and spreads your lips, making sure to give the camera a nice view. More teasing words come to him, but you don’t quite hear them- too desperate to do more much than tug at his sleeve and whine when he doesn’t immediately stick his cock inside you.

“Yeah yeah yeah, I’m workin’ on it. Patience is a virtue, you know?” He says, looking up at you with a toothy grin as he reaches down- still holding the camera steady as he unbuttons and unzips his pants- pulling them down just enough for his cock to spring free.

He grabs you by the hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the mattress and putting your legs over his shoulders. You whine as he takes his rock hard cock and taps the head against your clit- making you squirm and squeeze your eyes shut- pursing your lips in a near pout and silent plea for him to fucking get on with it already.

He’s been so mean, all night- and even now, his phone was still recording, and he was still cooing down at you in a condescending voice.

“Aw, you’re just so desperate for me, ain’tcha lovie?”

When he finally pushes in, it’s just as rough and desperate as usual- yet he doesn’t lose his teasing tone. The whole time Soap’s fucking you, he’s telling you how needy and desperate you look- how you’re practically falling apart from just a little bit of teasing. Even as the two of you cum, the camera’s still recording and he’s growling out mean little backhanded praises as he paints your insides white.

You only receive softness when he collapses on top of you and eventually pulls out- kissing you sweetly and curling up beside you- telling you how good you did and how perfect you felt for him as he holds you tight till you drift towards the steady full of sleep.

Tomorrow, he’s going to get it. But for now, you let yourself pout a bit at his meanness (earning yourself a few extra pecks and apologies about all his teasing) and fall asleep in his arms.

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

[canonicallyobserving911]

WIP Wednesday

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

Season 7 FANON Speculation: Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic - Hiatus Reading: “I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Chapter 21 available on AO3 and Chapter 22 will be posted soon.

Currently 21 chapters completed: 797.4K Words; Rated: Mature

One chapter will be posted at a time.

[Previous snippet from Several Sentences Sunday]

____________

I'm excited to finish writing Chapter 22 because there's less than one day remaining until Buck and Eddie get married.

For anyone who hasn't read Chapter 21, here's a brief overview: Buck and Eddie finalized everything before they left on Friday, December 15th. On December 10th, Buck agreed to meet with his biological father and the three of them will be present at the restaurant Edward selected. Buck still doesn't know Chris is going to ask him to adopt him on Christmas morning and neither Buck nor Chris knows anything about the gift Eddie bought to commemorate the special moment. Also, Eddie's planning several big surprises for Buck on their wedding day and for a week later when they arrive in London but Eddie doesn't know Chris and Buck are planning a surprise for him too. The three of them are speaking Italian more frequently and finally, Maddie, the 118 and Athena are still planning to throw them an engagement party because they don't know they're getting married which means New Year's Eve at Maddie's and Chimney's is going to be interesting 😉.

Buck and Eddie will tie the knot before Christmas 2023 but they are NOT getting married in the U.S. and they won't have a wedding ceremony until May 2024. They've revealed their relationship, their engagement and the fact that they're going to Europe to their found family during the 118's Thanksgiving dinner (Chapter 17), to Eddie's parents, his sisters, his abuela and Tia Pepa (Chapter 18) and Buck told the Buckley parents he's getting married and that he has a son (Chapter 19). Only three people know they're getting married and they are Chris, Carla and Malone. They told Carla and Malone (Chapter 19) because they asked them to be their witnesses at the Italian Consulate and they told Chris (Chapter 20) that evening after they got the "Atto Notorio" (Declaration) signed but no one else knows. In Chapter 21, Buck, Eddie and Chris arrived in Rome, Italy and they're preparing for the big day.

___________

Here's another romantically fluffy snippet from Chapter 22 of Eddie and Buck having a conversation while they're in their bedroom inside of their villa in Roma, Italia.

__________

It’s dark o’clock outside and they both know they should be sleeping but they’re awake and lying in bed simply gazing into each other’s eyes.  Their arms are wrapped around the other one’s waist, their legs are tangled together underneath the covers and even though their heads are lying on their own pillows, their faces are only millimeters apart.

After a few seconds of looking into those honey brown eyes he loves so much, Buck unwraps one of his arms from around Eddie’s waist, he lightly taps the bridge of his nose, smiles then says, “Piccola… you’re supposed to be sleeping.”

He chuckles and responds, “Amore mio, so are you”.

They laugh and after their laughter subsides, Buck’s smile brightens and he replies, “I’m too excited to sleep”.

“Me too.”

They stay there in the moment and allow the weight of their admissions to surround them.

Without breaking eye contact, Eddie unwraps one of his arms, he lifts his hand and lightly rubs his thumb over Buck’s bottom lip.

The response is immediate because Buck’s entire body shivers at the touch.  He’s not cold by any means because he set the thermostat and he knows the temperature inside of the villa is a balmy 75 degrees.  It’s Eddie’s touch that does it and he knows there’s no one else in this world that can make him feel the way Eddie can.

The feeling of his arms being around him, the taste of his lips being pressed against his, the roll of his tongue when they’re French kissing along with every other touch of his is now memorized and it’s indubitably imprinted on his brain.

Eddie Diaz is the love of his life; he always has been and he always will be.  They’re in love with each other and they're soulmates who share a love of their lives type of love that transcends both space and time.

They’ve been sharing emotional intimacy for more than six years; they’ve been sharing romantic intimacy for the past 3 months and 15 days but in a few hours, they’re going to experience physical intimacy for the first time on their wedding night and he’s been counting the number of days they had left for weeks.  Now he’s counting the hours and pretty soon he’ll be counting the minutes until he says, “I do” and becomes Mr. Evan Diaz.

Eddie noticed when his fiancé shivered, so he repeats the action and the response is instant.  When Buck shivers, he watches as his ocean blue eyes darken like he’s ready to be devoured and he knows in a little more than 19 hours, he’s going to give him everything he wants and needs.

Buck whispers, “Eddie... in exactly 12 hours, we’re getting married”.

“We are and guess what?”

Buck dreamily looks at his fiancé and whisper asks, “What?”

“I can’t wait for us to be husba...”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Buck closes the millimeters of space between them and kisses him with so much passion it causes them to tighten their arms around the other one.  It’s a long deep and slow kiss that’s filled with promises of everything that’s going to happen between them in a matter of hours.

They get lost in it and while they continue to lick and pant into each other’s mouths, Buck does the same thing he’s been doing for the last couple of weeks, he repositions them so Eddie’s on top of him.  Once he’s covering his whole body, he opens his legs and bends his knees but this time he also wraps his legs around Eddie’s waist and pushes his hips up to let him know how much he wants him.

He breaks the kiss then talks against his lips and exclaims with a whisper, “Fai l’amore con me!” [“I want you to make love to me”].

What's going to happen next? Will they give in and make love now or are they going to wait until after their ceremony? 👀🤷🏽‍♀️

___________

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

Fic Summary: Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it.  But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be cataclysmic.

__________

Chapter Summaries

Chapter 1 -��Eddie makes a new friend while Buck receives devastating news regarding the sperm donation he made for Connor and Kameron.

Chapter 2 - Buck does a lot of research to learn more about the abnormalities found in his red blood cells and Eddie starts a new therapy journey that’s all about him and not the traumas he’s experienced.

Chapter 3 - After more than a month, Buck and Eddie finally spend time together outside of work but it doesn’t end well and they part with a lot of uncertainty regarding their places in each other’s lives.

Chapter 4 - Eddie has a few realizations about his life which causes him to consider moving back to El Paso, TX while Buck continues to be reminded of his past which causes him to take an impromptu road trip across America.

Chapter 5 - Both Buck and Eddie have difficult conversations with their parents and Buck finally learns the truth behind the reason why his mother despised him while Eddie finally tells his mother about the way she tries to control him.

Chapter 6 - More than two weeks after Buck pushed Eddie away after suggesting they needed a break; Eddie decides to try again. Eddie’s there for Buck when he’s at his worst just like Buck was there for him when he was at his worst and he won’t let Buck give up.

Chapter 7 - After Buck’s mental breakdown, Eddie has his back the same way Buck had his when he had his own breakdown more than a year ago.  They share several vulnerable and emotionally intimate moments with one another and they begin to realize their small, sweet and caring gestures matter just as much if not more than any grand gesture ever could because these are the foundations of a long-lasting love relationship.

Chapter 8 - Buck, Eddie and Chris all have their own therapists and during their sessions, they reflect on their pasts while they’re in the present so they can prepare for their future together as a family.

Chapter 9 - Buck and Eddie are there for each other when Buck has to testify as a witness during the trial.  But by the end of it, they’ll both realize their individual and shared traumas are going to keep resurfacing until they talk about them, deal with the fact that they’re in love with one another and face the fact that they can’t live without each other.

Chapter 10 - As Buck and Eddie finally begin to confront their past traumas, they realize how much they need each other to fill in the gaps of their memories.  Additionally, the universe screams at them for what appears to be the one hundredth time so Buck can realize he doesn’t have to ‘find it’ because he already ‘made it’ and Eddie’s reminded tomorrow isn’t promised and he doesn’t have to die alone if he doesn’t want to.

Chapter 11 - A “virga” or dry thunderstorm is in the forecast but once the rain starts, the thunderstorm happening outside won’t be able to match the storm brewing inside between Buck and Eddie.  It’s the universe’s final scream and when the tumultuous winds begin to blow, they’ll have one last chance to hold onto everything they’ve built over the last six years or they’ll lose it all forever.

Chapter 12 - Buck and Eddie have always shared a deep physical attraction and an emotional intimacy that’s unmatched but now that they’re in a relationship, they’re learning how to navigate the romantic intimacy they’ve been waiting for six years to explore. The love they have for each other is a once in a lifetime, soulmate, love of their lives type of love that transcends space and time.

Chapter 13 - While navigating the newness of their romantic relationship, Buck and Eddie take advantage of every moment they spend together. As their individual lives, people from their pasts, time constraints and the possibility of losing each other again make attempts to interrupt and interfere with their journey to forever, they love, care for, support and hold onto each other even tighter to withstand it all.

Chapter 14 - Buck and Eddie can see the lights at the end of the tunnels regarding the results of Buck’s Cancer Screening along with everything else they’re dealing with. But are the lights they see exits to the tunnels or are they headlights on different runaway trains that are speeding towards them in an effort to interrupt their forever?

Chapter 15 - Buck and Eddie have known they were exactly who the other one wanted in a partner since they met six years ago when they agreed to have each other’s backs. They’re in a romantic relationship, they’re both preparing to ask the other one to spend forever with them and by the end of the seventh week into their relationship, together they will plan their most important and greatest adventure for their future.

Chapter 16 - As Buck and Eddie begin to prepare for their marriage ceremony that will take place in Rome, Italy in December 2023, they start planning their first international adventure as a romantic couple. Even though Chris is still the only person they’ve told about their relationship, several people who know them have already witnessed the love they share and as the days continue, others will witness it too.

Chapter 17 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to departing Los Angeles for their international adventure, a moment in time will remind them; life is fragile, tomorrow isn’t promised and every second of everyday should be cherished because everything can change in an instant. The result of that realization will cause them to hold onto each other even more.

Chapter 18 - As Buck, Eddie and Chris prepare for family gatherings before and during the Thanksgiving holiday, the “Santa Ana Winds” start to blow and all sorts of expected and unexpected familial drama ensues.

Chapter 19 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to their wedding day, the universe begins to align everything so that some of their parent and children's relationships are strengthened while others come to an abrupt end.

Chapter 20 - With only 14 days remaining until Buck, Eddie and Chris depart Los Angeles, CA traveling to Rome, Italy, for their first family adventure, an early morning conversation about “tying up loose ends” helps Buck and Eddie realize there are still several things left unfinished on their ‘To Do’ lists. The question is will there be enough time to complete all of them?

Chapter 21 - Buck, Eddie and Chris are finalizing their ‘To Do’ Lists, double checking their itineraries and packing their suitcases in preparation for their trip to Europe so they can board their flight that departs Los Angeles, CA on Friday, December 15, 2023 at 3:25PM.

Chapter 22 - Will be posted soon.

__________

Read chapters 1-21 are available on AO3.

Continue reading on AO3

[walker-extended-universe]

John's Boys, Chapter 1

Relationship(s): Bonham Walker & John Winchester, Abeline Walker/Bonham Walker, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester

Tags/Warnings: Abandonment, Angst, Heavy Angst, Family Dynamics, Crossover, Alternate Universe- Canon Divergence

Summary:

After John learns the truth of what happened in the nursery that night, he can't just sit by while a monster like that roams the earth. But, he knows he can't drag his boys on a cross-country revenge trip with him. So, he calls on an old friend for a small favor. Bonham knew from the start that this wouldn't be a temporary thing. Too often, he's seen his old army friends that "just need some time" go off the deep end and never return. But he also knows that someone needs to look after John's boys if the worst happens. So he agrees to a small favor.

Written for @angstober Day 21: Abandoned

A/N: Yes this is another Walker/Supernatural crossover that has both too much and not enough thought behind it why do you ask :)))))))

Taglist: @theladywyn, @ihavepointysticks, @klaatu51, @itsjessiegirl1, @neptunium134

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

If there was one thing Bonham had learned from his time in the Marines, it was that nine times out of ten, if you got a call from an Old Army Buddy, it was usually a bad sign.

The only thing that was worse: they showed up at your front door without calling first.

When he saw John Winchester’s impala in the drive leading up to the main house, Bonham told Abby not to worry about it and that he’d handle it. It’s not that he thought John was a bad person; far from it. The man had saved his bacon more than a few times overseas. But showing up like this, out of the blue, without so much as a letter between them in years, could only mean something bad was coming.

He’d heard things through the grapevine about other members of their troop. Men disappearing to their old friends’ apartments without a note to their wives. Men leaving suicide notes in voicemails that their families wouldn’t hear until months later. Men just disappearing and relying on their friends to keep the secret.

When Bonham saw the carseats in the back of the car, his stomach dropped. This couldn’t be anything good.

“She’s dead, Bonham.” John told him. “She’s dead. The house is gone. And I can’t- I can’t just sit here when the bastard that killed her is still out there.”

“I know.” He didn’t imagine he'd be thinking differently if Abby had been taken from him like that. “But you’ve got two boys to look after. You need to think about them.”

“I’m trying to think about them,” John insisted. “I can’t- I can’t let them live in a world with that monster in it.”

“I know, John. But you gotta let the cops do their jobs. That’s what we pay taxes for. Just- You can stay here if you need a place but-”

“But I gotta get back on my feet?” John chuckled darkly. “I can’t, Bon. I-I can’t. The things I’ve seen, the things I know…. I can’t just let it go, I can’t. But…..” he sighed. “But I know I can’t bring the boys down with me.”

“John-”

“You don’t have to say yes. I’ve got other people I can ask-”

“John, you need help.”

“Why the hell do you think I’m here?!” John snapped. “I need- I need them to be safe. But I need to handle this myself and I can’t- I can’t take them with me. They don’t deserve to get pulled into this mess.”

“They don’t deserve their father to abandon them either.”

“I’m not abandoning them!” John started pacing. “I just- I need time. I know what I’m doing, I just need time. A year, maybe less. Hopefully less.”

Bonham let him get the energy out.

He shouldn’t agree to this. John needed help, not a revenge mission. Maybe he should agree on the condition John went to a therapist instead of a gun shop.

But John wouldn’t agree with it. And that wasn’t the only person he had to talk to, and he knew what Abby would say.

“Let me run it by my wife,” he said eventually. “Why don’t you bring the boys inside and we can talk?”

John’s shoulders relaxed. “Alright. Just give me a minute.”

—-----------

“Are we really thinking about this?” Abby asked him quietly. They’d retreated to the kitchen to talk while John watched his boys in the living room.

“I don’t agree with it either, Abby, but I don’t know what he’ll do if we don’t. Those boys need a home and if John won’t give it to them….”

Abby sighed. “I know, Bon, but we just had a boy ourselves in case you forgot and this hasn’t exactly been our best year….” She nervously twisted a dish towel in her hand and needlessly cleaned the counter. “How long did he say? A year?”

“He’s gonna aim for less than that but yes. But Abby….” He put a hand on her shoulder. “We have to be ready for it to be longer than that.”

She sighed and leaned into him. “I want to say yes. You know that.”

“I know.” Bonham kissed the top of his head. “If you think we can handle it, I can go buy another crib today.”

She tilted her head up for a kiss. “...Tell him we can do it. For one year. After that, he’s on his own.”

Bonham kissed her softly. “Alright. Make me a list of things we need for them and we can be set up in time for dinner.”

Abby hummed. “Find out what Dean’s favorite is and see if John will join us, would you?”

“Of course.”

—----------------

“But why do we have to stay here? Why can’t I go with you? I can help!”

John stared at his oldest son. How was he supposed to explain this to someone who wasn’t even old enough for kindergarten yet? “Dean…. This is something I have to do alone. And I need you to look after Sammy until I’m done.”

Dean swallowed hard and nodded tearfully. “O-Okay. When’re you gonna be done?”

John didn’t have an answer, so he made up one. “I’ll be back in time for your next birthday, okay? Be good for Bonham and Abby and look after Sammy for me, okay?”

Dean nodded and rubbed his eyes. “Okay. I-I can do that.” He bit his lip, then threw himself at John’s leg in a hug. “Come back soon, okay?”

“I will,” John lied. “Be good, okay?”

Dean nodded furiously, still not letting go of him. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, Dean. I love you too.”

John hugged him one last time, then got back in his car and drove away, leaving his sons in the rearview mirror.

He just needed to kill this demon. Once the demon was dead, they could be a safe, happy family again.

He wasn’t abandoning them, he just needed time.

[myinnersmutdemons]

Movie Night

TW: NSFW, threesome, step-cest, masturbation, bondage, toys, dirty talk, voyeurism, exhibitionism, Sabo x Sister!Reader x Ace

Laying on your bed in nothing but your panties and t-shirt, you bit your lip, slowly moving your hand downwards towards your panties. You felt so guilty, so dirty, thinking about them like this, they were your brothers, but it always made you so hot, imagining them taking you, imagining their hands instead of your own. Your hand slipped under your panties, rubbing circles on your clit. It wasn’t like they knew what you were doing and they weren’t actually related to you, so it wasn’t so bad, right? Your other hand wandered up under your shirt, playing with your breast, pinching and pulling your nipple as you let out a quiet whimper. It was wrong to imagine them, wasn’t it? To imagine that they were playing with you, taking you. Slipping a finger inside your pussy, you couldn’t help the slight pleasured gasp that left your lips, fingering yourself faster and faster.

“S-Saboo, Ace~” you whined, thinking of the two older boys. You felt hotter than normal as you squirmed, wanting more. It never felt like enough, you wanted, needed more. You needed them, needed their cocks. 

You weren’t entirely sure what time it was when you finally finished, only that you were left tired and still horny. That being said, you knew that you didn’t have enough time for more, it was starting to get dark, meaning the two would be over soon for ‘movie night’. Your weekly hang out with the brothers where you all ate too much junk food, watched a movie, and, more often than not, passed out in a pile on the couch. You were starting to curse the fact that it was just the 3 of you, leaving you to be sandwiched between the older 2 boys. It wasn’t that Luffy wasn’t invited, just that he either forgot, or was doing other things these days. Almost as soon as you’d pulled your clothes back on, you heard the front door unlock. You might have to take that spare key back from them, less they walk into your apartment while you were ‘busy’ and overhear what you were doing, or worse, what you were fantasizing about. 

“Y/n! We’re here!” Ace called out, smiling when you hurried out to meet them.

“‘Bout time! I was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten.” you teased, moving to hug him only to snatch the bag of snacks while he thought you wanted a hug. You couldn’t let them know how you felt about them, so you’d play the ‘sweet, innocent little sister’ like you always did… or well, almost always. 

“Sabo, she stole my snacks and didn’t even give me a hug.” Ace whined, not bothering to try and get the snacks back while you rifled through the bag.

“Then maybe you should stop falling for her tricks? Or just hand her the bag next time?” Sabo said, nudging Ace out of the way, only making Ace pout more.

“Don’t bother, princess, those are entirely Ace’s, I’ve got yours right here.” the blond said, shaking one of two bags in his hand. Almost immediately you were handing the bag back to Ace and following Sabo almost like a puppy. Not that he needed snacks to get you to do that. 

“And still no hug?!” Ace demanded, holding his snacks once more, still pouting as he joined you and Sabo in the kitchen.

“You’re 21 and you’re still whining about not getting a hug?” you teased, wrapping your arms around him. 

“He’s just a child who can’t just hug you himself because then he’d have to admit that he actually likes hugging people.” Sabo said, wrapping his arms around your waist, his hot breath blowing against your ear, making your cheeks darken. He was so close, you could feel his muscular chest against your back through his shirt. With Sabo against your back, you didn’t notice the look he gave Ace before backing off, returning to his snacks, gathering his things before setting them on the coffee table. 

“S-so what are we watching tonight?” you asked, trying to will your blush to die down.

“Eh, not sure, ask Sabo, he picked.” Ace said, waving dismissively as he dumped his own stuff on the coffee table.

“Oh please not another political movie!” you groaned, remembering the last time Sabo had chosen the movie. 

“You guys act like it was a death sentence! And I mean, I suppose it counts as political but I swear you’ll enjoy it!” Sabo offered making you sigh.

“Fine, fine, pull it up.” you asked, taking your spot between the two. Why they always insisted you sit in between them, you’d probably never know, but it was ‘your spot’ and there was no changing it. Sabo grinned as he pulled the streaming site up and started the movie. About halfway through the movie and you couldn’t stop fidgeting. The two brothers seemed to be extra close today, Ace resting his head on your shoulder, breath hot against your neck and Sabo’s hand resting just above your knee, rubbing unconscious circles on your thigh with his thumb. 

“C-can I get up?” you asked, gently pushing against Ace. you needed to get out of this position before they drove you crazy. You could already feel the desire burning low in your stomach, making you hotter and hotter with each passing second.

“But I’m comfortable here. Do you really need to get up?” Ace asked, voice low, words practically whispered in your ear. His mouth was so close to your skin, you could almost feel his chapped lips against your neck. 

“I mean, I suppose we could let you up, but then we’d have to reposition once you get back.” Sabo said, giving you a smirk that had the low simmer in your stomach turning up to a boil. Why did it feel like they were being so flirty? 

“I expect something in return if you make me reposition when I’m so comfy.” Ace demanded, your heart racing.

“F-fine! You can have all my remaining snacks! I just… I need to get up.” you said, hoping that he’d go for it. He was a bottomless pit, surely he’d just want your food, right?

“Mm, not what I want.” Ace said without hesitation, confusing you. If he didn’t want your food, what did he want?

“You’re going to share, aren’t you?” Sabo asked, giving Ace a look that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Yes, yes, I’ll share… so long as it’s okay with her.” Ace muttered, nuzzling into your neck, turning your cheeks an even brighter red.

“S-so long as what’s okay with me?” you asked nervously. You tried to shake your thoughts away, you were reading too much into this, you had to be. Sabo just chuckled, placing a hand under your chin, turning your head to face him before pulling you into a rough kiss, his hand moving to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he stole your breath away. A light, pleasured sigh left your lips as you felt Ace nipping at your neck, teeth lightly scraping against your skin.

“You don’t mind, do you, Angel?” Sabo asked once he pulled away, leaving you a little lightheaded. 

“I… I don’t but…” you bit your lip, eyes looking away shyly before meeting his once more, “it… it’s wrong. We’re…” once again you trailed off. They knew what you were saying even without saying it. 

“Not as bad as you think, we’re not related by blood.” Ace muttered, giving a particularly rough bite to your shoulder, drawing a small yelp from your lips at the sensation. 

“We know you want it, Angel, we see the looks you give us… we know the things you’ve imagined.” Sabo said, the last part whispered to you, turning your pink cheeks into a full blush that you just knew went all the way down your neck. You did want that, you wanted it, wanted them, so badly. Sabo pulled you into another kiss, distracting you from what they were doing until you felt Ace’s hand under your shirt, groping your breasts through your bra. The blond in front of you swallowed the whimper that left your lips, his kiss growing rough, only pulling away when breathing became a must.

“Well, princess? Do you want us or not?” Ace asked, making you swallow hard as you nodded.

“Yes, I-I, I want this, want you.” you admitted, a surprised squeak leaving your throat as Ace picked you up, carrying you back to your room, Sabo following close behind. Almost as soon as the door was closed, the two of them were undressing you, hungry eyes roaming over your now bare form. 

“Fuck, Angel, so many things I want to do to you.” Sabo said, thumb flicking over one of your nipples, making you whimper slightly. Their hands felt so good against your skin, making you want more.

“Please.” you whispered, looking away. You still couldn’t believe you were doing this with them, finding it hard to voice your desires.

“Please what, princess? You’re going to need to be more specific.” Ace said, placing featherlight kisses over your body, working his way up from your thigh to your neck and back down again.

“Please… d-do whatever you want to me.” you said, voice just above a whisper. A shudder went down Sabo’s spine at your words, whatever he wanted? Fuck, he didn’t think you could take all the things he wanted to do to you.

“Careful, Princess. Sabo’s a little sadistic.” Ace said, seeing the dark look in his brother's eyes.

“I didn’t hear you complaining last week.” Sabo shot back, making Ace swallow hard as you looked between the two. Had they been…? “Don’t worry, Angel, I’ll take it easy on you tonight, besides, I don’t think I have everything I’d need.” Sabo said, caressing your cheek, only to have Ace chuckle, drawing both your attention, watching as Ace emptied his pockets of what looked like a length of rope, a small pink vibrator, a pair of handcuffs, a blindfold and a gag.

“Do I even want to know how you fit all this in your pockets without me noticing?” Sabo asked, picking up the handcuffs.

“Do you really care so long as you get to use them?” Ace asked cockily, only for Sabo’s hand to reach around behind Ace, gripping his hair and making the older boy groan.

“I’ll use them on you if you’re not careful.” Sabo hissed before pulling him into a rough kiss. You could feel yourself get wetter as you watched the two make out for a moment before Sabo was pulling back, leaving both boys breathless. Looking back at the various items Sabo couldn’t help but smirk as he shook his head.

“Got everything important except my new toy. I suppose it’ll be fine this time, don’t want to overwhelm her.” he said, thinking about the cane he’d left at home. A new addition to his collection, one he couldn’t wait to use. Both boys were soon back on you, cuffing your hands behind your back before tying the rope around your body, hands trading the rope until you weren’t sure who was holding what end or where the rope was even going. Finally, they pulled away, Sabo giving you a dark look. Your calves were tied to your thighs, the binds accentuating your breasts, before wrapping loosely around your neck like a makeshift collar. Wriggling slightly, you pulled against the ropes, finding the knots to be secured rather well. 

“You still okay with this, Princess?” Ace asked, groping and massaging your breasts, drawing pleasured sighs from your lips.

“Y-yes, I… more.” you whimpered, arching your back into Ace’s touch, moaning lightly when he pinched your nipples, rolling them between his fingers. You were soon too preoccupied by what Ace was doing to pay attention to what Sabo was doing until you felt vibrations against your clit, forcing a loud cry from your throat, arching further into Ace. Your cries seemed to spur Ace on as he started sucking on your nipple, pulling and rolling the other between his fingers.

“Fuck, you look so good like this, completely at our mercy.” Sabo groaned, running two fingers up your slit as he kept the vibrator pressed against your clit, making you moan more, “fuck, so wet too, have you been thinking about this all night?” he demanded, your slick coating the tips of his fingers. Reluctantly, you nodded, biting your lip as you did so. You couldn’t deny it, not when he was making you feel so good. Ace pulled you in for another kiss as Sabo thrust 2 fingers inside your pussy, the black haired brother swallowing the moan as he made out with you. It all felt so good, having Ace play with your tits while Sabo fingered you and played with your clit, making out with Ace while your head spun from the sensations. 

“You still want more, princess?” Ace asked, pulling away slightly, watching as you nodded.

“Please. I… I want you, both of you.” you whimpered, pulling at the ropes, only for Sabo to give another dark chuckle.

“You’re gonna have to beg if you want more, unless you want me to keep you like this all night. I could, you know. Tied up with the vibrator pressed against your clit, just low enough to keep you writhing in pleasure until you’re about to go crazy from need. Maybe I’ll make you watch as Ace and I get off. Watching us cum, half delirious as you try to beg me to fuck you.” Sabo said, making you whimper.

“No, no please don’t. I want more, I want you. I’ll do whatever you want, just please, more.” you pleaded, admittedly turned on by what Sabo was saying. 

“Come on, Sabo. Don’t tease her, how is she supposed to come crawling back for more if we don’t give her any to begin with?” Ace asked, biting and nipping at your neck and shoulders, leaving small marks all along the skin there. 

“You’re lucky that Ace makes a good point, pet. Otherwise I might just leave you a whimpering mess.” Sabo said, fingering you harder and faster until you were cumming, soaking his fingers.

“Mmm, looks like my dirty little pet made a mess.” Sabo said, pulling his fingers out of you, though keeping the vibrator pressed against your clit, making you writhe in pleasure. 

“I’d be more than happy to clean it up.” Ace chimed in, taking Sabo’s hand, starting to lick and suck your juices off the blond’s fingers. All you could do was watch, feeling even more turned on, if it was even possible.

“Shit, I think you might be as big a slut as she is. Bet you can’t wait to fuck her, hell, I’d bet you’d give anything just to taste more of her.” Sabo said, watching as Ace finally finished licking his fingers clean.

“You can’t tell me you don’t want her too, not with how much you moan her n-” Ace was cut off by Sabo yanking his hair again, Ace’s breath hitching as the blond held him.

“You’re testing my patience, Ace. You know what, I know exactly what to do to kill two birds with one stone. You’re going to sit there and watch, you’re not going to touch her and you’re not going to touch yourself, got it?” Sabo growled, watching as Ace swallowed hard but nodded. Sabo quickly stripped, tossing his clothes to the floor before picking you up, spreading your legs so Ace could see your pussy as Sabo sat behind you, thrusting his cock inside you, making you cry out in pleasure. Ace groaned as he watched Sabo fuck you, throwing his own clothes to the floor, quickly finding them too tight for comfort. 

“Fuck, so good, pet, so tight, squeezing my cock.” Sabo moaned, bouncing you up and down on his large cock. 

“Y-yes! Please, more! Fuck me more.” you moaned, head thrashing side to side as you struggled against the ropes.

“At least one of you knows how to behave. Maybe I should’ve tied Ace up instead of you. Later, I suppose. If you’re a really good girl, maybe I'll let you play with him.” Sabo whispered into your ear, making you lean your head back against his shoulder as you moaned loudly. 

“Yes, please! I’m a good girl. Please, fuck me more, make me cum!” you pleaded. In front of you, Ace squirmed, gripping the sheets as he tried not to touch himself. 

“Fuck, fine! I’ll behave, just stop keeping her all to yourself.” Ace groaned, his cock throbbing as he imagined being inside you.

“Oh look who wants to join in. What do you think? Has he been behaving well enough?” Sabo cooed, giving a particularly rough thrust that had you crying out.

“Yes, please, let him touch me. I want more.” you moaned, feeling yourself draw closer and closer to the edge.

“Cum for me and I’ll let him touch you again.” Sabo demanded, smirking when you came a few thrusts later, your pussy squeezing him tightly, milking his cock as he came inside you, “I suppose a deal’s a deal. She’s all yours, but I wouldn’t suggest testing me again.” he added darkly. Not that he thought Ace would listen, Ace was just as bad as he was when it came to not causing trouble. As soon as he was ‘allowed’ to, Ace was pulling you into a kiss, slamming his cock inside you. He needed you, needed to fuck you. Sitting back and watching, not being able to touch himself had made him painfully hard, a loud moan escaping his throat the moment he sunk his cock into your tight heat. 

“Oh fuck, princess, so good, so tight.” Ace moaned, laying you on the bed before starting to pound in and out of your pussy, making you moan as well. 

“Being such a good girl, aren’t you, pet? Taking Ace so well.” Sabo said, pulling you into a rough kiss. All you could do at this point was moan and writhe in pleasure, your eyes rolling back into your head as you came for a third time. Pulling Ace will you, both of you letting out twin cries of pleasure. Ace barely managed to pull out as he collapsed beside you, clearly a bit worn, giving a loopy smile as Sabo freed your wrists before loosening the ropes, allowing you to move.

“Don't either of you think we’re done tonight. I need a short break, but I’m far from finished.” Sabo said, making Ace smile and you shiver as you both nodded. You were both more than happy to go again, maybe this time he’d tie Ace up. Looking at you two, Sabo smirked, he’d definitely have to bring his new cane with him next time. He couldn’t wait to see what you’d look like with marks across your thighs and back. For tonight, he might just have to stick to spankings. Hopefully you’d ‘misbehave’ enough for him to warrant doing so. Then again, did he really need a reason?

[avengerscompound]

The Interview - Chapter 21

The Interview - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Rating:  E

Warnings: None

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Melody Danes

Word Count: 2586

Summary:  Melody Danes gets the break of a lifetime when as a lowly intern, she’s assigned to write a profile piece on Captain America.  Steve Rogers is a hard man not to fall for and as she and Melody get closer and Melody’s career takes off, jealousy leads to sabotage, and the potential to bring her whole world crashing down.

Chapter 21

Melody felt completely beaten down by the time she arrived at the Avengers Tower.  In less than an hour, she had gone from having a workplace she loved with colleagues she enjoyed working with, to a workplace that felt hostile and colleagues she couldn’t trust.  All because someone she worked with had decided that it was okay to stalk her.

Even though she had content that needed to be reviewed, she spent the afternoon moving her personal calendar offline and deleting things just in case she was being hacked.  She also ran antivirus on the system, but she was considering asking Tony Stark the large favor of coming in and checking it out too.

It was past leaving time when she was done, and the pictures of her and Steve were up on the internet.  There was no hope that people wouldn’t recognize her.  Even if the rumors that she had been dating Captain America weren’t already floating around, she wasn’t an unknown entity.  Sure she wasn’t famous, but she also wasn’t someone outside the media.  The people writing the articles knew who she was, which meant that along with the photo were her name and her job, which led people to her socials, which meant as she was packing up her desk to leave, her phone started to blow up.

It was a mistake checking Twitter.  She didn’t use it for anything other than promoting work, the place was a cesspit of toxic people sharing their toxic thoughts.  Today she was the target of them.  Steve was trending thanks to the photos and her notifications were full of people atting her, calling her a slut, a whore, and ugly, and that wasn’t even mentioning the people who took issue with her race.

When she arrived, Steve, Bucky, and Bobbi were all already there.  Steve greeted her at the door, kissing her cheek and ushering her inside.  Bucky and Bobbi were squeezed together on Steve’s recliner, so Melody sat on the couch.  Steve took a seat beside her.

“Rough day, I hear,” Bucky said.

“You can say that,” Melody sighed, letting her head fall back on the couch.

“What actually happened?” Bobbi asked. “I saw the photos of you both.  Did they finally find you?”

Melody groaned and rubbed her eyes with the balls of her hands.  Steve put his hand on her leg and squeezed it reassuringly.  “It seems that someone at the Daily Bugle found out where we would be before we got there, and sent an email to the media from Mel’s address alerting the press.”

Bobbi sat forward in the chair. “What?!” she said, sounding outraged on Melody’s behalf.  “Do you know who did it?”

Melody’s head lolled forward again, and she met Bobbi’s eyes. “I have no idea.  I really like everyone there, and I hadn’t put it in my work calendar or even in my phone. Steve called me this morning and I scribbled the time and just Comfort Diner on a post-it.  I didn’t say who I was meeting or anything.  All I can think is someone overheard.  You haven’t heard anyone say anything suspicious have you?”

Bobbi shook her head. “No.  I mean - they might not say anything to me anyway.  They know we’re close.  But as far as I’ve heard they all like you.  They sometimes say you’re a hardass, but only when the deadline is overdue and you’re starting to lose it.  I’ve never heard anyone bitching about you personally or saying anything about Steve.  Oh - apart from when you get an Avenger to come in and they speculate if the person agreed because of Steve and it was lucky you had the connections you do.”

Melody groaned again, tugging on her hair.  “I don’t get it.  Why would someone want to pretend it was me who did it?  Surely if you wanted to out me, you’d just go for a scoop.  You could just say you didn’t know and go out and take the photos alone.  This isn’t someone wanting to break the news that Captain America is dating, this is someone trying to ruin my life.”

“Are they being gross on Twitter?” Bobbi asked with a frown.

“So fucking gross,” she agreed.

Bobbi made a little grunt of acknowledgment.  Melody knew why.  Bobbi had deleted her Twitter years ago because of how toxic it could be.  She just had Facebook to keep in contact with old friends and her siblings and then Tumblr for the memes.  “I’m so scared about that with Bucky.  I can already picture people being fucking disgusting about it.”

Bucky sat forward and kissed Bobbi’s shoulder, his hand snaking around her waist.  “I don’t have any social media.  They can say what they want.  It’s screaming into a void.”

Bobbi leaned back and pecked Bucky’s lips.  “Thank you, baby,” she said.  She turned back to Melody, her brows knitted. “It couldn’t be that - shit - I don’t know her name. The blonde that thinks you stole her job?”

“Norah Winters?” Melody asked.

“That’s the one,” Bobbi said.  “I don’t know her, but you said she was a complete bitch to you a few times.”

“I know her,” Steve said.  “She interviewed me once and then twisted everything I said so it was completely misrepresented.  She somehow made me sound like a complete Nationalistic Fascist who doesn’t care about the public’s safety.”

Melody shook her head and leaned against Steve.  She needed his support so badly and he didn’t disappoint. His arm went around her automatically and he pulled her in a little closer.  “I don’t think it could be her.  She works in a different part of the building and she wasn’t around when I was on the phone with Steve.”

“Unless she hacked your phone,” Bucky said.

“Tony is going to come up and check that.  FRIDAY can you nudge him,” Steve said.

“I’ve sent him a reminder,” she said.  “He should be down soon.”

Melody hid her face in Steve’s neck, resting her cheek on his collarbone.  This was all so much to deal with.  It would be bad enough having to just deal with his psycho fans, but to deal with all this as well, she just wanted to run away.

“It’s not even just that.  I went to speak to Jameson.  He said he wanted me to write about my relationship with Steve in my column,” she groaned.

“He what?!” Bobbi said, almost leaping out of her chair.

“He said I didn’t need to name names, but now it was out if I just said vague things about him, people would know and more people would buy the paper,” Melody explained.  “I don’t want to do that.  I can’t exploit Steve like that.  But we moved because I had this new job and it paid well.  If I quit, we won’t be able to make rent, and then what?  We’re on a twelve-month lease!”

“Well, I might have…” Bobbi began but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Tony Stark came in without waiting to be asked.  “Someone ordered a genius?” he asked.

Steve stood and shook Tony’s hand.  “Thanks for coming up.  Do you think you can take a look at Melody’s phone?  We’re worried it might have been hacked.”

“Sure thing,” he said, holding out his hand.  “Hand it over.”

Melody pulled out her phone and passed it to Tony.  “Thank you, Tony.”

“Hey, it’s Stark Tech.  There’s no way it’s hacked.  Despite what he said, he pulled out a device from his pocket and connected it to her phone.  He sat on a stool nearby, opened a holographic screen, and began typing.

“What were you saying, Bobbi?” Melody asked.

“Um… about what?” she asked.

“You said about me quitting the job and not being able to afford the apartment,” Melody prompted.

“Oh,” Bobbi said.  “Well, Bucky and I have been talking about moving in together.  Specifically, him moving in with us.  If he was there we could help you cover your rent until you're back on your feet.  That is if you’re okay with him living with us.”

Melody almost jumped out of her chair.  She hadn’t suspected that Bucky and Bobbi were thinking about moving in with each other at all.  She wondered if Bobbi was maybe making something up so Melody didn’t feel bad.  It wouldn’t be the first time her cousin had lied to protect her.  But she couldn’t imagine Bobbi just springing moving in together on Bucky out of nowhere like this.  “Really?” she shrieked.  “You’re really going to move in together?”

Bobbi laughed.  “Yes.  If you’re okay with it.”

Melody lunged at Bobbi, wrapping her arms around her and hugging her as tightly as she could.  “Oh my god,” she said, nuzzling into Bobbi’s dark hair.  “I’m so happy for you both.”

“Okay, okay,” Bobbi laughed, rubbing her back.  “I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, giving Bobbi one last firm squeeze and pulling back.  She flopped back onto the couch leaning against Steve.  “I don’t think I’m going to use it as a reason to quit my job though.  At least not yet.  I need to stand up for myself.  I can’t just run away and shut down because people were mean to me.”

“That’s the ticket,” Steve said, patting her shoulder.  “You have to stand up.  If you lie down, they just end up walking over you.  And for the record, I love your column as it is.  I don’t mind the little pieces of information you give about us.  It’s never invasive and it’s always more about you.  If people can figure out that the guy who keeps leaving socks around your apartment is me, that’s okay.”

“Wait,” Bobbi said.  “That’s you!  I thought it was Bucky!”

“Hey!” Bucky said.  “I’m tidy!  He’s the punk that can’t pick up after himself.”

A bright flush crept up the back of Steve’s neck and he dropped his gaze.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “I just don’t think about it.  I’ll try to be better.”  He shook his head and looked back up at Melody.  “Anyway, as  I was saying; I’m happy for you to write the way you do even knowing that everyone will know it’s me.  I don’t like the idea of you forcing it for hits, but that’s more about your artistic integrity than privacy.”

“Artistic integrity,” Tony snorted.  “Cap.  Come on.  She works for the Daily Bugle.”

“Thank you for that input, Tony,” Steve deadpanned.  “Ignore him.”

“Yeah, ignore the guy trying to keep your information secure from hackers,” Tony snarked.

“I wouldn’t want to force it,” Melody insisted.  It was part of the whole problem.  The suggestion that she use her personal life to sell papers made it feel like none of the other things she did all day long mattered.  She wasn’t a writer, she was a woman with an in with Captain America.  “I almost feel like backing off on it now.  The column’s either good on its own or it’s not and I don’t want an audience coming in just to learn about your private life, Steve.”

“Hey,” he said, putting his arm around her, and rubbing her side. “So don’t.  Just write what you want to write about.  If it’s good enough people will read it.  I have faith in you.  And if you do decide to write about something personal, I just ask that you think about how it affects me.  I trust you.  I don’t think you’d do anything that would hurt me.” 

She leaned into him and let out a soft sigh.  She was glad he trusted her.  She just hated being in a situation where it would even be questioned in the first place.

“Well,” Tony said, getting up and unplugging Melody’s phone from the device he’d been using. “It hasn’t been compromised.  If you message me from work tomorrow, I’ll access your computer and see if there’s anything there.  If that doesn’t work I’ll get you a device that sweeps for bugs.  I’m not sure how well that will work in a studio that’s full of recording equipment, but hopefully, we can figure it out.”

Melody stood taking the phone and hugging the man.  “Thank you, Tony.  I really appreciate it.”

He patted her back. “No problem.  It’s what I do best.”

Bucky and Bobbi both stood together.  “I gotta get to work, Mel,” she said. “You gonna be okay?”

Melody nodded. “Yeah. Thank you.  Congrats on moving in.”

“We’ll let you know when it’s going to happen for sure,” Bobbi said. “Thanks for saying yes.”

“Of course, I would,” Melody said. “It’s awesome!”  She turned and grinned at Bucky. “See you, new roomie.”

“See you, Mel,” he said.

When Tony, Bobbi, and Bucky had left Melody sat down in Steve’s lap and curled up.  She felt emotionally and physically exhausted and she just wanted to stay pressed as closely to Steve as she could get and fall asleep.

“Shall we order something for dinner?” Steve asked as he enclosed her in his arms.

She nodded and burrowed into his chest more. “I want soup.”

“I’m sure we can get you soup,” he chuckled.

He didn’t move to place the order, he just held her and rested his chin on the top of her head.  She was grateful for it.  She had always been tactile and she often drew her comfort from touch.  The fact she could just be quiet as he held her felt more reassuring than any of the talk.  He had her.  He wasn’t going to let her fall.

After a little while, he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “Do you think we’re moving too slow?” he asked.  “Bucky and Bobbi are moving in together.  Sam’s taking Matthew to meet his family.  Should we be living together?  We have been dating longer than any of them.”

She pulled back and looked at him, cupping his strong jaw.  “We’re going just as exactly fast as works for us.  It’s not a race and the checkpoints aren’t in any particular order.  I’m taking you to meet my parents soon, and if you really want to move in together, we can talk about it.  But if what feels more right is the old-fashioned dating, engagement, marriage, moving in, then that’s the way we do it.”

Steve smiled and turned, kissing her palm.  “But you’re in the relationship too.  And you’re not the traditional type,” he said.

“Maybe not.  But I’m also not the type to push the person I’m dating into doing something they’re not comfortable with doing.  I hope you know that by now,” she said.

Steve leaned in resting his forehead against hers.  “I do know that.  And I love you for it,” he said and kissed her.

She continued to caress his cheek as her lips parted and his tongue teased into her mouth.  She melted completely into it, all worries about her job and their future dropping away - at least for now.  Steve pulled back slowly and rested his forehead on hers again. “I do plan to marry you one day.”

She smiled. “And when you ask, I’ll say yes.”

His lips brushed over hers once more before he sat back.  “Okay,” he said.  “Let’s order dinner.”

Melody pulled out her phone and opened up one of the apps.  She still dreaded work tomorrow, but for now, she was content knowing she had an amazing group of people who all had her back.

// NEXT

[fleurywiththesave]

Mattdrai #21

21. this is a very long hug now sort of hug

It took a little creative maneuvering for Leon to avoid going out after the game, but he’s not about to waste any of his limited time with Matthew on people he sees every day. He makes a mental note to thank Hyms later for getting everyone to back off. Leon strongly suspects that he knows more than he lets on, but that’s a bridge to cross another time.

When he gets home, the lights are already on — Matthew must have beaten him there and used the key Leon gave him over the summer. The thought of it makes him pretty warm and fuzzy. Sure enough, Matthew is sliding into the foyer and burrowing into Leon’s arms as soon as he walks through the door.

“Whoa, hey,” Leon says, holding him tightly. “Good to see you too.”

“Shut up,” Matthew mumbles into his shoulder. “You know you missed me.”

“That’s no secret.”

Usually when they’re working on borrowed time, they bypass everything else in favor of getting to the bedroom as quickly as possible, but tonight Matthew’s not pulling away. Leon rubs a hand up and down his back and waits.

“Something to eat?” he finally asks. He feels Matthew nod, so he leads him into the kitchen and makes him drink water while he warms up some meal plan food. Matthew didn’t actually say anything about being thirsty, but it can’t hurt whatever’s up, right? When the food is ready, they eat in silence until Leon can’t take it any longer.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” he asks. Matthew frowns and sets down his fork.

“Oh come on, I was doing such a good job!”

“Maybe to someone who doesn’t know you,” Leon answers. That gets him a small smile. “Talk.”

Matthew sighs. It sounds…sad.

“Brady and Emma are having a baby.”

Leon doesn’t know how to respond to that. “Yeah,” he finally settles on. “You called me after they told you, remember?”

“—And I’m jealous,” Matthew finishes.

Oh.

“And I don’t want to be, but I am. I’m trying not to let them notice, because that’s not fair, and I didn’t want to tell you because that’s not fair either, but I guess finally getting to see you again just. Stirred it all up.”

Leon’s heart aches.

“Matthew—“

“I’m not trying to put anything on you,” he continues, words spilling out like he needs to rush or he won’t be able to say it. “We don’t have to talk about it. We never have to talk about it again. Actually, why don’t we go upstairs? We should go upstairs right now.”

“Matthew.” That gets him to shut up, at least. Matthew clenches his jaw and waits, looking anxious and apologetic.

“Matty,” Leon says carefully, “you know that not right now doesn’t mean not ever, right?”

“…Really?” The defeated look on Matthew’s face has been replaced by something cautiously hopeful. Leon tugs on his hand and he obligingly moves to stand in front of Leon’s chair.

“I mean, this is a hell of a way to talk about for the first time, but yeah, of course I want that. I know it’s shitty right now to be so far apart for so long, but that’s not going to last forever.” Leon lets his hands rest on Matthew’s hips and looks up at him. The expression on his face is downright sweet.

“I didn’t know you were thinking about any of that,” he says.

“You really do just like me for my looks, huh,” Leon deadpans. Matthew laughs and pulls him up for another hug. This one feels considerably less desperate.

“Hey. Still want to go upstairs?” Leon asks, nuzzling the side of Matthew’s face. Matthew turns his head and kisses him.

“Race you.”

[disgruntleddd]

AITA for wanting to cut ties with my ex?

I (22) have been friends with my ex-fiancé (21) since we were 14. We were best friends for years and they crushed on me for ages, until we finally started going out when I was ~18. We were each other's firsts and we got engaged when I was 20 and they were 19. We moved in together when I was 21 and they were 20.

Last November (six-ish months ago now, jeez, time flies) they broke up with me. They were sexually assaulted in a club and told me that the experience made them realize that they want to be more upfront with their boundaries and desires. They don't think we're compatible like that and wanted to date someone more similar to themselves while still being my best friend, like we were before.

For a while, I tried to make it work even though I was absolutely miserable being around them knowing that what we had was gone. They had an online friend, we'll call him D (24), who they'd grown close to over the course of the year or so we'd lived together. Well, they already had a visit planned months in advance for D to come out and stay in our apartment for two weeks. They told me that they were romantically interested in D, and wanted to see how things went in person. I didn't want to ask them to cancel such an expensive trip so short notice, so I sucked it up. At the time, I expressed that I wanted D to sleep on our fold-out couch (we have a two-bedroom, and they got their own bed after the breakup) but they told me that who they invite into their bed is none of my business.

Anyway, so, my ex lied to me. Turned out that they'd already been dating D for a couple of weeks before the visit took place. The walls are not thick so I heard them fucking more than once. My ex invited me out to drink with them and I ended up crying because it was really painful to watch them hang off of someone else and loudly make jokes about all the sex they were going to have later.

Fast forward a couple of months, and D gets kicked out of his apartment and needs somewhere to live. This is where shit hits the fan, and what prompted this post.

D has never liked me, although he tries very hard in a shallow way to make me like him. (I think it's an anxiety thing — he wants me to like him because then I feel less threatening, not because he actually cares about getting to know me, you know?) I overheard a phone conversation between Ex and D where he was ranting about how I have no friends because I'm such an unlikeable bitch, I'm never going to change or improve myself, he fucking hates me, I'm a narcissist, Ex needs to move out and cut ties with me because I'm so toxic, blah blah blah. D also has schizophrenia, multiple personalities due to severe childhood trauma, he age-regresses (constantly; his default mental age is ~17), and he's an alcoholic. All of this to say that he is a very paranoid and depressed person.

(Side note: I expressly told my ex that I didn't want him to stay in our apartment. They said that they understood and assured me it would only be for a few days while they found him a place. It's been ~3 weeks now, and he's still here.)

I was woken up one night a week ago by my ex and D having a very loud conversation about suicide. D was having a mental breakdown/panic attack and ex was actively having to keep him away from pills and knifes. I laid in my bedroom and listened to D describe a fantasy in which he takes a gun and blows his brains out in front of me — apparently because I am a huge source of depression and anxiety for him, on account of me not liking him.

I don't believe I've been mean to D. I simply don't care about him. I do my best to not acknowledge him/pretend he doesn't exist. My ex disagrees.

They claim I've been outwardly cruel to him and that my hostility is the reason for his near suicide-attempt. They called me all sorts of names and pinned the blame almost entirely on me.

That night of the panic attack, I also became anxious that D would try to do something to hurt me or my two cats. (He has a history of animal abuse/murder.) I went to the kitchen and grabbed a knife to sleep with because I was too tense to get back to sleep.

Well, D found out about the knife and apparently he is now terrified that I'm going to do something to him (and he could have only known about it if my ex told him, as he does not enter my room EVER), which my ex also blames on me.

My ex made the decision to break our lease and move out around a month ago. Rather than find a new roommate, I decided to get a small one bedroom apartment for myself. My ex seems upset about this. I told them blatantly that I don't want to see each other or even communicate once the move is completed, which I don't think they've grasped. They keep making remarks about trying to stay in contact or me visiting them at their new place.

I am a college student and I have a job. I have missed three of my morning classes this month already because my ex and D both like to stay up late at night and play games in the living room and/or drink together. They both talk very loudly and this can go on until 2 in the morning. It's nearly impossible for me to relax and sleep with their constant activity. I also do the dishes, feed the pets, clean up after them, sweep, take out the trash, throw away the beer cans they both leave everywhere, hell, I've even done their laundry.

The only thing my ex does is cook occasionally, which they seem to think is an effort towards our friendship, when they consistently prioritize D's dietary desires over mine, never help me with my groceries, and when they order food, never get anything for me. If there is enough food for three, then they will offer me some. That's about it.

They make no effort to spend time with me and actively avoid having difficult conversations while at the same time accusing me of moving out because I'm "running away from my problems." They want to be both my best friend and a good husband.

Oh, yeah. Ex and D are married as of last week, ish. No idea why. Not my problem.

But, the way I see it, it is functionally impossible for Ex to prioritize someone as high-maintenance as their new husband AND be my friend at the same time, considering all of the emotional conflicts going on in our fucked up little situation here.

(Side note: all of this is IGNORING the 3k my ex owes my parents, as they helped us both out when my ex lost their job last year. My ex told me that they're frustrated because it feels like my family is "ganging up" on them, and that they were under the impression my parents would just forgive the money and all of us could part ways on good terms. I have literally no idea where they got THAT impression.)

I feel ignored and underappreciated. I am also fairly confident that I'm being gaslit, as Ex constantly blames me for my feelings AND for D's feelings. I am posting this now because I legitimately cannot tell if I'm overreacting or not. Ex makes me doubt my thoughts and the validity of my actions. (RE: the knife incident, they chastised me for scaring D all because I was "paranoid," when I brought up the phone call I overheard, Ex told me that D was just drunk/angry and didn't really mean it, the last time I complained about them both being noisy (during sex) it was brushed off as me being bitter that I'm still single, etc)

I know that Ex is also stressed and dealing with a lot. Am I being too harsh? Am I overthinking this? Should I buckle down and try to make it work? I've been friends with them for ⅓ of my life — they've been with me through my worst and my best. So much of who I am is shaped by them. I don't want to give that up, but I also think that maybe I need to if I'm ever going to improve myself/my mental state.

I am legitimately looking forward to moving out on my own, being responsible only for myself, only cleaning up my own messes, focusing on work and school and potentially maybe even making some new friends. I don't want Ex in my life anymore, I just want to put the last year behind me, and I think they know that — they're just in denial. They want to have their cake and eat it, too.

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 7 - Bermondsey Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 6 Summary: You reconnect with Neil a couple of days after the night you spent together. The meeting sparks many questions and revelations. In other news: Tenet agents are a nuisance. Neil knows that best. Warnings: Swearing, explicit language, tiny bits of angst because who would I be without it. Author's Notes: It's been 84 years... but it's here! 🎉 And it's 16k apparently. Sorry about that. As you've noticed my brain (and heart) are all over the place but this story is still very much alive. These two are not letting me go, soo... Let's keep going. Thank you to anyone who's waited this long 💕 I really appreciate you. I've got so much planned for them and very excited to share it with you. And, seeing as from next Saturday I'll be in London for a week, there might be even more inspiration ✨ (I'm definitely taking Jubilee Line from St. John's Wood to Canary Wharf. It's all I'm saying) For now - enjoy two idiots being idiots. And a cameo appearances from the Tenet crew because it's high time Cupid met them ;))) Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

Checking the contents of your bag one last time before leaving the flat, you sighed from the oncoming headache already building behind your temple. What a stupid idea it was to hit the snooze button five times instead of being a big girl and getting up at the first sound of your alarm. Now, thanks to your idiocy, you had no time to get that much-needed hit of caffeine if you were to make it for the usual 7:21 train from St. John’s Wood. And you were keen to make it. If only because you promised him.

You were less eager to admit other reasons motivated the rush, going far beyond an agreement that Neil would not hold it against you if you were to break the promise. Reasons such as the inexplicable itch underneath your skin that started sometime last night upon a reminder that you were going to see him today. For the first time since that night. The nightÔ - now officially trademarked, thanks to your idiotic brain. The feeling did not cease even when you tried to remind yourself that there was nothing extraordinary about what transpired then. No actual reason to behave in this irrational way.

Nothing of importance happened. Nothing ground-breaking or life-changing. Just an expected result of weeks of flirting and tension triggered by a bottle of red wine and a natural connection. Just spectacular sex.

If you dared add. A self-satisfied smile stretched over your face at a mere memory, powering you through those final steps before you could leave the apartment and lock the doors, bounding down the steps with no concern over the noise. Fuck the neighbours. Or something like that.

By now, four days later, you were quite good at getting rid of the confusing thoughts the moment they bloomed. Not seeing Neil certainly helped, as did the harrowing afternoons and evenings devoted to the performances. On the stage, you never had the time to think about nonsense such as this, focused on executing the choreography and maintaining that signature, flirtatious Cupid smile that was even rewarded a mention in one of the first ballet reviews. (Truly, a highlight of your unmemorable life if you were to be honest).

The other thing that helped make sense of the mess in your head was Neil’s phone call. It acted as a push in the right direction, a reminder that you had to be the reasonable one. The one to guide him along, highlighting the facts as there were. That the night mattered, in the meaning that it was hardly forgettable. Nothing had to change between you. And most importantly, Neil was the one calling the shots because you were more than happy to continue.

You repeated those truths in the quiet of your head until they felt like certainties. And now, finally, they did. On a cloudy Wednesday morning, you could freely admit you knew what you were doing. The Friday night confusion was just a glitch, an inconsequential event in the grand scheme of things that would bear no impact. Now or ever.

Smiling as you shouldered past the loitering tourists at the entrance to the station, you allowed yourself a nod. Everything was in order. The last piece of the puzzle – Neil’s say in the matter – was the only thing missing.

Despite the wish to remain as detached as possible, you hoped it would be a ‘yes’ rather than the opposite. Even if only because your selfish soul did not want to let him go. Just yet.

The 7:21 train arrived at the platform as you stepped off the escalator and rushed into the middle carriage. By now, your gaze was trained on finding Neil with embarrassing speed, eyes darting over the faces of commuters until they would find what they sought. Today, it took less than ten seconds to locate him, sat in one of the double-seat rows. Neil must have been on the lookout as well, for as soon as your eyes fell on him, you found him staring back. An unshakeable shiver travelled down your spine as Neil’s mouth quirked into a smile. Friendly, yet uncertain. As if he was debating the possibility that you could turn on your heel and leave instead of crossing the space to join him. The idea seemed ridiculous enough that you had to smother a laugh as you fell into the plastic seat with a bright grin ready on your face.

There was no other place you would rather be. Truly.

“Hi,” raising your hand in a pointless wave, you widened the obnoxious grin and allowed yourself another scanning look over his face.

Nothing seemed to be amiss except for the slight weariness in his gaze, as if, for Neil, the few days apart did not eradicate the doubts and worries. As if he was still not sure where you would go from here. Or how he should act around you now. After everything.

You vowed to erase his concerns before you were to part at Southwark. That simply would not do.

“Hey…” Neil murmured the complimentary greeting, his hands flexing in his lap. Before you could decide to reach over and still their nervous twitching, a flash of pain passed through your skull, making you wince. That did not go unnoticed “Are you okay?” the softness of his tone made your heart give out a warning summersault.

With anyone else, you would heed the warning and do everything to get rid of the strange sensation filling your chest. With Neil, you could only swallow past the feeling and offer him a dimmed smile and an honest reply:

“Yeah, it’s just a headache. I didn’t have the time for coffee if I wanted to make it” the grumpiness shone through your voice as you pressed your fingers against the throbbing spot on your temple and sent an inward curse to the gods responsible for the passage of time.

With half the mind to start digging in your bag for the painkiller that was definitely (hopefully) somewhere inside, you did not clock Neil’s movements until he tapped your knee and placed a takeaway coffee cup in your line of vision. Startled, you turned your head to look at him, an unasked question already on your tongue.

“Here, you can finish this” flashing you an easy smile, Neil all but shoved the lukewarm cup into your hand.

Your brain needed additional minutes to process the unforeseen developments as you tightened the hold over the cup and regarded him silently. Only then the shocked, delighted smile made an appearance on your face:

“Good god, I didn’t know we’re at the stage where we’re sharing caffeine sources” the faux gasp was a worthwhile addition, triggering Neil’s laughter.

For a split second, you were content to bask in the glory of it and the knowledge that you were the sole cause. You did this to him.

Still, the sentiment was true. You could barely recall the last time someone was kind enough to buy coffee for you, let alone share theirs. And never on their own accord, leaving you almost lightheaded from the tenderness of the gesture. You stifled the feeling with another exaggerated smile.

“Do you want it or not?” Neil arched his eyebrow, aiming for sternness but failing.

You could see the joy in his eyes, lighting them from within.

“Oh, I do, I do” sending him one last grin, you raised the cup to your mouth and took a long sip. As that first taste of the cappuccino hit your tastebuds, you stifled a pleased groan and relaxed into the seat, “Thank you, kind Sir” tipping an invisible top hat at Neil, you cherished another chuckle dragged out of him and added, “You’ve saved my life” taking another sip, you met Neil’s gaze, seemingly unwavering in its focus on your face.

You watched as his eyes roamed over your features to glance at your mouth and stay there. Stuck perhaps. Without daring to give it second thoughts, you allowed your tongue to dart out and swipe over your lips. Even then, you did not look away from Neil, feeling the electricity crackle and snap between you. Another beat passed before he looked up, startled and caught with the blush dusting his cheeks. It was impossible not to chuckle, breaking the tension by looking away.

Not without effort. And not for long.

“Eternally at your service” you got as far as downing the coffee before Neil spoke again, his quip making you inhale sharply.

Being caught unaware by blatant flirting was new. Unprecedented, yet not unwelcome. And easily redeemed. You turned your head to meet Neil’s unwavering gaze and offered a knowing smirk, matching his expression. Without wasting another second, you leaned in closer, eradicating the gap between you and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek.

“You are, aren’t you?” the question did what you needed it to as Neil leaned back enough to meet your gaze again and quirked the corner of his mouth into a pleased smile.

The awkwardness of those first few minutes seemed to be past you now, overtaken by the easy banter. You settled into the feeling and the comfort it brought without trying to understand why that was the case. It was better that way.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you felt Neil’s gaze back on you. Its weight was not a burden, leisurely caressing the outlines of your body before opening the page for a new question:

“So… How’s work?” you glanced at Neil just in time to see his easy smile, the interest clear in his eyes.

That part of your friendship was something you valued highly because you could not find it anywhere else. With anyone else. Only Neil seemed to care about the mechanics of professional ballet and the trials and tribulations it entailed. Only he seemed curious about your goals and aspirations, always so eager to hype you up despite you never asking for it.

You were sure the soft smile was already present on your face as you offered him a reply:

“It’s good. Got stellar reviews, as I’ve told you, and now the other Cupid is taking over for a couple of days so I can prepare for the auditions for the next one” the mention of what awaited spiked your anxiety, even if only by a fraction.

Because the prospect was terrifying. Even with the hours of prep and previous season’s experience, you could not ignore the fears. There was no certainty you were good enough to get another breaking role. There was no confidence in that matter either if you had to search your heart and soul. There was only fear nagging at the edges of your conscience with increasing urgency.

You knew it would only get worse in the span of half a week that was left.

“The Nutcracker?” Neil’s complimentary question kept you anchored in the present.

It also proved that he listened to all the bullshit you spewed every time you met. And that, much like shared coffee and the desire to get to know you, was worth more than you could express. More than you dared contemplate if you wanted to maintain the relatively unbothered mood and the illusion of nonchalance.  

“Yeah. I’ll prepare a couple of variations and hope for the best” only when you felt Neil’s hand cover yours did you become aware of your fidgeting, of the restless fingers picking at the hangnails. The comforting weight of his palm stilted the movement and offered bravery you did not realise you needed to speak the thoughts into existence, “I could show you what I’ve got in a couple of days,” the wavering notes of your voice made you cringe, instantly removing any pretence of cool you wished you could maintain. If only because you cared. Too much “If you-” the end of that rambled disclaimer was cut short.

Thank god.

“I’d like that” Neil squeezed your hands and sent you a reassuring smile, somehow already knowing what it was that you needed, “Seems like I’m already experiencing the withdrawal symptoms” the candid tone did nothing to help you ignore his wink or minimise the impact of the statement.

You blinked twice as your brain absorbed and processed the words. Only then you turned towards Neil with a deadpan expression and asked:

“… from my unremarkable dancing?” measuring him up silently, you took passive note of the station you had just arrived at.

There was still time. Time to offer Neil space to take back what he just bestowed on you. For him to deny the praise hidden in the corners of his affectionate smile and within the light in his eyes. But he did not seem eager to backtrack on the words you did not think you deserved.

“From your incredible dancing, Cupid,” signing off the accolade with another one of his charming smiles, he lifted your hand to his lips and turned it to press a fleeting kiss to the inside of your wrist.

Over the pulse point. A gasp was inevitable as you closed your eyes and let the sensation burn through your body and soul. Just as Neil intended. It was fleeting, yet the impact felt almost permanent. Impossible to shake off.

You did your best, opening your eyes to see his pleased smirk and ignoring it entirely to huff in pretend annoyance:

“Christ, you’re such a charmer” an eye roll thrown into the mix completed the act as Neil let go of your hand and let it drop back to your lap.

The sensation persisted, making your skin tingle. Unconsciously, your thumb rubbed over the exact spot he kissed. It did nothing to eradicate the sensitivity.

“You like it, though” mindless of your turmoil, Neil bumped his shoulder into yours, the dangerous grin blooming on his beautiful face.

It took you one look to know you were foolish to think one night with him could have been enough. Stupid to believe Neil was someone you could let slip through your fingers after getting to have him. Now, with the decision entirely up to him, you could only wait, taking what was freely offered. With that reminder, it was easy to forgo the remains of pretence. Even if just this once. Once more.

“You’re right” the only sign that he was not expecting your straightforward answer was how his eyes widened, roaming over your face with renewed intensity. By now, you knew there was no point in trying to decipher his looks, so you simply stared back. Unwavering and confident in what you wanted him to know, “I like you,” noting the slight hitch in his breath, you added, “Neil,” emphasizing his name the way you did on Friday night, you met his increasingly alarmed gaze and offered a smile. A wordless reassurance that he need not fret that you have gone insane. Not yet, anyway. Before the charged moment could evolve into something you could not control, you swallowed hard and asked the only question that required no thinking or clarity of mind, “How’s the parish?”

The manic grin, signing off the not-subtle change of topic, was a touch too much. Admittedly. It slid off your face as quickly as it appeared and was buried in the hard stare you directed at the dirty floor of the carriage.

But not for long.

“Great, many… devotees and all” the joy in Neil’s voice alone was not enough to make you look up.

But it was enough to make you crack a tentative smile, relieved that the joke still had not gone stale. You quite enjoyed it. For whatever reason.

Following the hopeful thought, you raised your head again to meet his gaze. On the periphery of your attention, you noticed the fact that Neil had never looked away, but you filed the knowledge for future use (that would likely never come) and instead offered him a cheeky look:

“All that jazz?” framing your face with infamous jazz hands, you waited with bated breath for the quip to land.

It did with an uproar of laughter and Neil’s striking eyes gazing at you with something you could not decipher if you tried. Wordlessly, you offered him something similar, an affectionate look that spoke words you never could force your tongue to form. It spoke of comfort. Of being understood like never before. The gratitude in Neil’s face was worth the risk.

“Jazz and hymnals,” offering you another manic grin, he broke the eye contact to glance at the floor. Before you could begin to think of something to say, Neil swallowed hard and spoke again, “Actually, I wanted to ask if you wanted to join me and some of my work friends in a pub on Friday?” the only sign that he was nervous was the slight tremble in his voice, followed with close to no time given for your answer, before Neil dived into another winded explanation, “It’s just a hangout, but ever since I dared mention that I met a ballerina, they won’t stop pestering me about you” a nervous chuckle tore from his parted mouth, making you look up and study him closely. That strange shyness seemed to be back, as always out of place on such a beautiful face. It bloomed along the sharp lines of his cheekbones and in how he picked at the chapped skin of his bottom lip with his teeth. Without thinking, you covered his fidgeting hands with yours. A gentle squeeze was all the confirmation you needed to know it was a good call, “So I want to introduce you” his earnest eyes met yours, but before you could even think about the answer, Neil added, “As my friend” he nodded, once and curtly as if convincing himself of what he just said and he fell silent.

The resulting pause was almost hard to absorb. It rang in your ears like an explosion. That was not something you expected to hear. Probably never. Not from Neil. Admittedly, the concept of him talking about you with someone else seemed foreign enough to be nonsense. Not probable.

And yet. You did not have to search your heart to know what the answer was supposed to be.

Aware of the few different ways you could approach it, you chose to fall back on what came naturally. Unlike honesty and vulnerability.

“As long as no one asks me to get on my knees and pray, I’m in” shooting Neil a smirk that felt a tad too much, you waited for his startled gaze to meet yours and winked, dropping your voice a notch to share what was meant for his ears only “And yes, I would get on my knees for other reasons” there was nothing to add there.

And nothing to take back either. No regrets as you stared at Neil, patiently awaiting a response. All the while, your fingers kept the loose hold over his hand, brushing over his knuckles in repetitive moves to soothe the both of you. Even if you would never admit as much.

You watched as the shock in his eyes gave way to begrudged acceptance, disappointed yet not surprised by your constant desire to be a nuisance. It was almost flattering. It made your blood sing with a spark of something you were keen to assign to pure exhilaration. And arousal, too.

“I didn’t ask” after what felt like ages of silence, Neil swallowed hard and made an effort to look away from you, feigning disinterest.

Still, his fingers squeezed yours, betraying the act. Smiling, you squeezed back and disentangled your hand from his as you took note of the approaching station. It was funny (and fucking annoying) how fast time seemed to pass when one wanted to cherish every second.

“But you wanted to,” shrugging upon Neil’s arched eyebrow and an indignant noise of protest that was never going anywhere, you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek fleetingly and got up from the seat “Give me time and place, and I’ll be there” smiling in the face of his utter bewilderment, you added, “On my best behaviour” a glance out the window showed you the tiled wall of the Southwark station, and signalled that it was high time to move.

Unfortunately.

“Like right now?” the humour in Neil’s voice was a reason to look back at him, taking note of the delight you could see on his face.

It proved all you already knew. He enjoyed it. All of it. Your insanity included. The understanding was enough to make you grin like a mad woman and nod:

“Yes, exactly,” the carriage drew to a slow stop, and people rushed from their seats as you gripped the railing and met Neil’s gaze for another prolonged moment.

“Perfect,” mirroring your smile, Neil’s mouth twisted into another trademark smirk.

The doors slid open with the PA message talking of gaps and stations. You raised your hand in a brief wave as you let the tide of commuters lead you onto the platform and away from Neil.

Not bad for a first meeting. Right?

***

In hindsight, which was a gift many possessed, but Neil decidedly did not, it was probably expected, that his friends would take every opportune moment to ask about Cupid. Even when taking a short break in the common room. Even when he was halfway through the second espresso of the day (and a third cup of coffee, because whoever needed sanity, anyway?). Even when it was the last thing he expected. Or, perhaps, especially then.

“How’s your ballerina, mate?” the question arrived exactly when Neil had his mouth full of coffee and was too busy staring at his phone to realise he was targeted with another of Ives’ laser stares.

A coughing fit, brought forward by the ever so graceful tendency to choke on drinks whenever cornered, was the only answer Neil was capable of for the first ten seconds. Glaring at Ives with what he hoped was enough murderous intent to make the soldier reflect on his actions, he put the cup on the coffee table in front and glanced at the remaining person in the room. Just to anticipate further assault, should it follow. Naturally.

Wheeler seemed unbothered, sipping her daily green tea and scrolling on the phone. But by now, Neil knew better than to ignore her existence. With one final warning look in her direction, he turned back to Ives. Just in time to see an infuriating grin spread over the man’s face, begging to be wiped with a punch. Ignoring the urge to do just that, Neil offered a reply:

“She’s… good. Great” the words felt flat, not measuring up to everything Cupid was.

But it was also the only admiration Neil was willing to impart to them. Those words were safe, not betraying the exact depths of his affection. He might not be embarrassed about how much he valued Cupid and every little thing about her, but he was certainly not eager to get into another conversation that would lead nowhere. The teasing was awful, as it was already.

“Of course she is,” Ives’ repartee muttered loudly enough to be heard by Neil from the other side of the room was accompanied by another of his annoying smirks.

Was Neil a better, smarter person, he probably would have ignored it. But he was neither better nor smarter. The spark of exasperation has been lit, burning through his chest with increased ferocity. But, sadly, no matter how frustrated Neil felt, he knew that none of it warranted physical violence. Yet, that is.

So, leaning back on the sofa to at least maintain physical comfort, since the mental one was not available, Neil chose to channel the ire into words.

“Your point?” arching his eyebrow, he focused his gaze on the current enemy of the state, awaiting an answer. When nothing followed except for Ives’ nonchalant shrug and Wheeler’s scoff in the background, he continued, “Never mind, I don’t care” he knew he sounded like a petulant child throwing a tantrum, but there was hardly anything to do but push onwards, choosing this moment to drop the news his ‘friends’ (way too generous term) surely would be interested in “I invited her to the pub, by the way,” Neil could feel the grin making its place on his face, erasing any pretence of indifference “Tomorrow” even the reminder alone was enough to spark the excitement.

Alongside it, he could feel the inklings of anxiety bloom to life. If only because he had no idea how Cupid would react to the antics of his friends. Or whether his dear crew was even capable of surviving her. He pushed past the worrying thoughts for the time being by reaching out for the cookies on the table. The sweetness of chocolate chips melted on his tongue, eradicating the fears. For now.

“Why?” this time, Ives’ question was stripped of all remaining nonchalance and certainty.

He was not expecting that. Neil’s mouth twisted into a smirk, revelling in satisfaction. He met the man’s surprised stare with confidence, taking in the uncertainty coming to life underneath that cocksure act his friend liked to maintain. Well, no more.

One glance at Wheeler confirmed the upper hand he has seemingly achieved, making Neil push forward:

“Because maybe once you meet her, you’ll stop being so annoying about this,” the steel edge in his tone was not something he could explain.

Except that he suddenly felt the need to defend the relationship with the woman in question against all forms of offence. Even imaginary.

“No chance, sweetheart” it seemed that Ives did not need as much time as Neil hoped to recover.

The grin was back on his face, accompanied by a wink. Outrageous. Ignoring the sudden urge to hiss like a furious cat, Neil rolled his eyes and dropped his gaze to the table.

Despite her suspicious silence, he could feel Wheeler’s eyes boring holes into his head from her perch in the corner of the room. That was a ticking bomb, awaiting her moment in the chaos to blow up. Or, less dramatically put, waiting for her time to shine and ask a question Neil knew he would not be able to answer. It hung over his head like the guillotine’s blade.

“Yeah, I worried as much,” punctuating the annoyance with a huff, he raised his head with renewed determination. It fueled the words he needed to be spoken, “Still, Cupid is delightful, so you’ll sure like her” it was as much a certainty as it was a plea.

A hopeful thought. A dose of wishful thinking, indeed.

Somewhere at the back of his head, Neil became aware of the many different words to describe her whirling around his brain, thousands of synonyms and endearments scratching at his consciousness. As if desperate to be heard. To make a point. But there was no point to make here. Cupid was a delight. She was also the most beautiful woman he had ever met. She was someone he could not have. But that was alright. It really was.

“I’ve no doubts about that” Wheeler’s voice broke the silence, startling Neil. He turned his head sharply to face her, noticing the quiet confidence visible in her sharp green gaze. Still, he appreciated the vote of trust, “Did you kiss?” the question exploded with the force of an atomic bomb.

As he should have expected. The nonchalance in her face told Neil he fucked up, ignored the signs, and now he has been left gaping at his two tormentors with no way out of the interrogation. Well, he could have just got up and left. But Neil was also pretty sure he would be cornered in the lift next. Or on the stairs. Or wherever else it was possible to torture him. Sighing heavily, Neil sagged onto the sofa and covered his face with his hands. A deep breath or two were in order. Perhaps he was overreacting. The dramatic tendencies yet again won with any sense of logic or stoicism. As always.

Fuck it. Heaving another weary sigh, Neil raised his head to stare at the wall as he stammered:

“I- We-” finally, he summoned enough courage to say what needed to be said, “Yeah… we did” with the speed of his thoughts at the minute, it was no surprise that the brain did not get the memo to stop fucking talking. No surprise at all to hear himself add another tidbit of information, almost without his conscious decision to do so, “We also had sex” as soon as the words left this mouth, Neil groaned, barely resisting the urge to get up and flee the scene with burning cheeks and mortification capable of killing him on the spot.

The fact that this sometimes happened – saying things before he was even aware he was doing it – was embarrassing enough. Especially now. The silence in the room upon his ill-timed admission felt thick enough to be cut with a knife. Even a butter knife. Unwilling to see the exact reactions on the faces of his companions, Neil trained his gaze on the floor, feeling the blood rush in his ears, the pulse pounding with worrying speed. He could feel their stares, boring holes in his head and trying to peer inside.

“You- what?” in the few years of knowing Ives, Neil was sure he had never heard the man quite so flabbergasted.

If it were not so surprising he would almost find the reaction offensive. Because why was it so unexpected? He tried not to ponder the answers to that question.

“Last Friday, after the ballet,” throwing the background information with as much indifference as possible, Neil slowly raised his head.

He was met with a wide-eyed stare from Ives’, his bright blue eyes seemingly stuck in a constant state of shock. Yeah, that was that when it came to not being offended. Exasperation rose in his chest, tempting Neil to do something very stupid. But before he could utter another word, Wheeler’s question filled the silence:

“So, you’re together now?” contrasting her trusted partner in crime, the brown-haired woman appeared disturbingly calm.

She put down the cup of tea with a measured move and rested her hip against the cupboards, unnervingly staring at Neil.

There was no need. He seemed unable to keep quiet anyway.

“No, of course not. I’ve told you that she doesn’t do relationships. It’s just sex” this was an answer long prepared, something he could recite from the heart. Why that was, Neil dared not think. Instead, he shrugged, for the umpteenth time within the past ten minutes, wishing to exit the conversation and escape to the North Pole. Or someplace like that. Polar bears were sure much better company to the two idiots he was paired off with presently, “Why are you staring at me like that, Ives?” he could hear the edge in his voice, the sharpness of vowels revealing the depths of annoyance.

The last thing Neil needed was someone sowing doubts about what was unchangeable. Not now when he finally began to feel settled again, for the first time since that fateful Friday night. Now, when he was so close to giving Cupid the answer. Now, when he almost felt like he knew what he wanted to do about it.

Not now.

“Because I think you’ve gone insane” there was no dose of mercy or understanding in Ives’ reply; the man focused his blue-eyed gaze on Neil without respite, clearly driven to say his part. For better or for worse, “You don’t do casual sex. With anyone” before Neil could offer an interjection at what was clearly not true, the man continued. Somehow filled with more passion and conviction, “Christ, I’m pretty sure you turned down at least three girls for that very reason last year. You’re a romantic, Neil” the sign-off proved to be the last straw.

Neil rolled his eyes against the allegation and stood up, fire blazing in his gaze. For whatever reason, he did not know. Except that something in the impertinent tirade of his friend irked him beyond compare.

Yes, maybe what Ives said was true. Maybe he turned down offers for casual sex before. But that did not mean a thing. Because all those other women were not her. They were not worth changing his ideals for what could also prove to be an unsatisfactory result. Only she seemed worth the risk.

And yes, Neil was aware of how pathetic that sounded. He shook his head against the ridiculous thoughts and paced the room before finding apt words to defend his choices. Not that he had to defend anything, of course. Still-

“No, I’m not” if that was a stretch, no one had to be any wiser. Just in case, however, Neil trained his gaze on the floor instead of looking at his companions, “Just because I’ve never done it before doesn’t mean I can’t now” there, that sounded perfectly composed and reasonable “It’s fine. I like her, and we’ve got a good thing going” finishing the speech with the only sentiment he was moderately sure of, Neil risked a glance at his friends.

Ives still looked infuriatingly impassioned, as if barely holding himself back from making more incorrect assumptions, but it was Wheeler’s expression that made Neil falter. His restless eyes finally found purchase for more than a second at a time. If only so he could understand what that introspective look in her eyes meant. And what potential trouble could it bring.

“If you say so,” Ives’ dejected reply almost went unnoticed, falling under the radar as the man sighed heavily, as it was him who was being violently verbally attacked.

The audacity was something else.

“We’re just worried about you. We’d rather avoid a repeat of the last time someone broke your heart” Wheeler’s voice was laced with concern as she breached the space and placed her hand on Neil’s shoulder with a stoic yet meaningful look in her eyes.

The tight smile completed the picture as she squeezed his shoulder and left as quickly as she had approached him. Still, the gesture lingered, making Neil falter. Because he knew what Wheeler meant. He knew it too well. Sometimes during those darkest moments, he could still remember how it felt. The searing pain in his chest and the inescapable knowledge that he was not enough. That he never would be. That the heartbreak would follow him wherever he went because there was no universe in which Neil was destined for a happily ever after.

Sometimes, it was easy to believe that, too.

Most of the time, however, he ignored those thoughts. Like now, when that first sting of tears at the back of his eyelids spelt trouble and unwanted attention. When he could feel the tightness in his throat threaten to trigger something no one wanted to see in public. Not now. Not ever.

Instead, Neil plastered on another obnoxious grin. The blinding strength of it was almost enough to get rid of the residual feelings.

“Well, worry not! It won’t happen” to reinforce the intended effects, Neil notched up the cockiness in his smirk and flopped back onto the sofa with all the air of someone certain they were making correct decisions.

Or, at least, that was the hope. That no one would see past his act despite the edges of the mask slipping with every second.

Taking a fortifying breath, Neil swallowed hard and settled against the cushions, hoping the softness would anchor him. A glance at the watch confirmed his hopes – not much time was left till he had somewhere to be. A handy excuse to leave faintly appeared on the horizon, teasing him with potential and salvation. Only, it still had to wait…

As soon as the faint hope glimmered, making Neil feel a tiny bit better about his current situation, Ives broke the silence. The only way he knew how:

“So… how was the sex?” Neil’s head swivelled in the direction of the man at breakneck speed, a blush already blooming on his cheeks.

It was mortifying how little it took to reduce him to a blushing fool these days. How one mention of Cupid, or the moment they shared, was enough to render him incapable of acting like a grown-up. How there was nothing to do about it but groan out loud and cover his face with his hands, hoping to escape the scrutiny. While knowing it was too late, anyway.

Before he could find an apt response (or any words at all, in fact), Wheeler interrupted the silence with her frustrated sigh, annoyance tinting the words:

“Ives, for fuck’s sake…” even without looking at her friend, Neil knew she was rolling her eyes, equally fed up with Ives’ antics.

Not for the first time, he felt gratitude for her existence and the constant intolerance of bullshit. Neil hoped to convey as much through a quick smile, shot in her direction sometime between staring at the floor and pondering the best course of action. She smiled back, briefly dropping the disinterested frown that seemed at home on her face whenever friendship dramatics unfolded. Which was more often than Neil would like to admit.

Apparently, a penchant for drama was a contagious trait. Sadly.

“What? I gotta ask the important questions” the lack of remorse on Ives’ face told Neil all he needed to know about the situation.

There was either option a – leaving the room as he stood, without a further word or a gesture, aware that he would be cornered by his dear friend shortly. There was also option b – answering the question in the vaguest way possible and hopefully buying himself time and necessary peace.

Was it really a choice? Sighing heavily, Neil strengthened his back and met the awaiting blue gaze with what he hoped to be confidence.

“Very good. Might I say euphorically good,” he could feel the smirk make home on his face as memories followed the words, offering a gratifying reel of moments he was sure he could never forget. It never failed to make him grin like an idiot and consider doing something reckless like calling Cupid and asking her out. As a friend, that is. A friend you wanted to have sex with again. Instead, he allowed himself to soften the voice and add, “She’s… incredible” it was a severe understatement, but then the present company was not worth hearing peans he could bestow upon her.

Those words were meant for her ears only. And yes, he knew how it sounded. How it pointed towards things Neil was not admitting, not even to himself. But that, too, was best ignored. Forever.

Before Neil could find the necessary words to follow the admission and, hopefully, exit the conversation altogether, the door creaked. All three pairs of eyes snapped towards it, displaying different stages of shock and bewilderment.

Neil watched as The Protagonist stepped inside, the dynamic of his movements stopping on the threshold as the man took in the scene presented before him. Cocking an eyebrow in a silent question, the older man closed the door behind his back and regarded them coolly.

“Uh oh,” the phrase, offered casually, without a dose of interest or intrigue, was accompanied by another taxing look.

Worryingly, it was focused on Neil only. The dark eyes of his best friend (and boss) scanned him from head to toe, undoubtedly clocking everything he hoped to conceal. Stifling the sudden urge to drown himself in the cup of lukewarm coffee someone abandoned on the table hours before, Neil sagged on the sofa. That was not going to be fun.

“Uh oh, indeed” even without looking at him, Neil could tell Ives was smirking.

Feeling the three pairs of eyes focus on him again, he groaned.

He was completely and utterly fucked, it seemed.

***

Usually, Friday evenings in the pub were not associated with anxious thoughts or fidgeting hands, interchangeably tugging and relaxing the chain clasped around your neck. But that was not a usual Friday night, and no amount of mental coaching could change that fact or convince you to stop worrying. No, the nerves seemed ingrained in the fabric of your soul as you exited the Leicester Square station and rushed through the streets of Chinatown, rapidly filling with people. You swallowed past the overwhelming onslaught of worries and pushed onwards, only briefly stopping underneath the red lanterns to double-check the location and whether you were still on the course.

When Neil sent you the address earlier that day, you admitted that the choice of locale was greatly appreciated. That was your hunting ground so to speak. The streets, where you felt most at home, with the bright lights proceeding your steps and the bustle of the city filling your heart. But even the comfort of the familiar environment did not eradicate the fears. The millions of what-ifs swirling around in your head all pointing out that one crucial fact – there was no guarantee that his friends would like you. None at all.

And the alternative was too terrifying to consider. Admittedly, this was not a place you visited often. Not a predicament you knew too well. Because, usually, you could not care less. Did not give a flying fuck about whether someone liked you or even accepted you because if they did not – well, their loss. But those life rules did not seem applicable this time. Not when the stakes suddenly seemed higher than gaining a stranger’s sympathy. Even though you could hardly explain what the alternatives were and why they scared you quite so much.

Glancing up from the phone screen, you double-checked the pub name with the address typed into the search bar and closed the app. Pocketing the device, you crossed the street and stopped just before the doorway. The bar was half-full, the music not quite booming yet filling the interior with cosiness and warmth that beckoned you inside, sparking the courage that began to flicker in your heart. As if sensing your moment of indecision, your phone buzzed. A single text from Neil appeared on the screen:

/✝️, 8:03 pm/ I’m here if you’re early.

Despite the nerves, you grinned. A ridiculous giggle escaped your throat as you pushed the door and entered the pub. That was a sign if you ever saw one. The contrasting warmth seeped into your bones as you unzipped the jacket and manoeuvred around the tables to the room in the back. This part of the bar was empty, save for a larger table in the corner. As soon as you entered the space, Neil raised his head and met your gaze with a bright smile. It was impossible not to grin back, taking in the warm light reflecting in his golden hair and the undone top buttons of his navy shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Even now, after everything, the sight never failed to make your pulse quicken, revealing the truth you could not ignore. That you wanted him. Still.

Probably more so now that you knew what it was like to have him.

That reminder alone was a reason to push all thoughts to the back of your mind and close the remaining gap in three steps. Shooting him an overly confident grin as a greeting, you drew back the chair opposite Neil’s and took off your jacket, draping the covering over the backrest and sitting down without as much as a word. If Neil noticed the unusual silence, he did not show it, instead following your every move with curiosity in his eyes. Once you were settled and allowed yourself to rest your gaze on him, Neil’s smile softened into something fragile. Something kinder than you were used to. You basked in the warmth of his expression as he broke the silence:

“I’m glad you came” that same affection tinted the simple sentiment, quieting the nerves in your head, even if only for a second.

For whatever reason, the fears seemed worth it if that was the reaction you earned by going through the pains of what was coming. It was shining in the blue of his eyes, luring you in like a spell. Without thinking about it, you darted a hand forward and quickly patted his hands, folded atop the table. The corner of his mouth twitched, clearly noticing your gesture. It was a nice feeling to be seen like that, appreciated for every tiny thing you did or said.

“Well, I promised, didn’t I?” the awkwardness slipped out alongside a weak chuckle you attempted, hoping to balance out the sudden pull towards seriousness in this conversation. You weren’t supposed to be serious, “When are-” the question, the only one you could think of suddenly, got cut short by Neil’s answer.

“In about ten minutes. They might be late, though” he glanced at the watch, almost in an afterthought.

Unashamedly, you let out a long sigh, feeling weariness fade for a short while. Ten minutes seemed like an apt time to settle. Or at least enjoy what you have right here and now. What you feared to lose more than you could admit.

Where was courage when one needed it desperately?

“Cool…” your knuckles rapped against the table, hoping to find the bravery in the rhythmless sound, but to no avail. You looked up, instantly caught in Neil’s blue gaze, staring back at you intently. As always. As if there was anything of interest that he could find only on your face, “Can I ask you something?” there was no way of getting rid of the tremors in your voice.

“Always,” Neil nodded, generous enough to spare you the suspense.

Taking a deep breath, you raised your head once more, plunging into the deep end:

“Are we still going to be friends if they hate me?” with no right way for a question like this to come out, you still cringed, wincing as soon as the words left your mouth.

Clingy. Pathetic. So unlike what you thought you knew about yourself. And yet. Because that was the crux of the issue. This deeply rooted fear that Neil’s presence in your life could disappear suddenly without a warning or a reason. A fear you did not understand or experienced before. It was terrifying.

Before your brain could unleash the ramblings, erasing any evidence of the question ever having been asked, you felt Neil’s hand gently cover yours. Despite knowing better, you looked up in time to see another soft smile grace his beautiful features. It mellowed the sharpness of the angles and eased the pain of looking at him.

A pain you were gladly braving every day if it meant you could keep on staring at him. With no desire to understand what that said about you.

“Obviously,” the lack of hesitation on Neil’s part bolstered the faint hope in your soul. It only got stronger as you saw him search your gaze with intent before Neil squeezed your hands and added, “Although I can assure you that they won’t hate you” the lack of judgement in his eyes seemed almost out of place.

A stupid question like that was bound to be judged and ridiculed. Surely. Except Neil did not seem to think so. The realisation made you feel lightheaded. It made no sense in the world order you knew.

You shook your head against the confusion and flipped the hand lying on the table so you could entangle your fingers with his. The softness of his palm moulded to yours as you arched an eyebrow, your face still a picture-perfect of calm:

“How can you be so sure, sunshine?” it was not in your nature to accept reassurance without trying to undermine it. You could tell Neil knew as much. It was there in the utter lack of surprise in his gaze as you prodded, his hand a comforting weight in yours. It helped you take a deep breath and confess what usually remained unsaid, “I know I’m… a lot” your eyes fluttered shut upon the unprecedented display of honesty.

You knew it was true, a fact many thought and no one admitted out loud. Except maybe when they stopped talking to you, leaving you behind without an explanation or an apology. That is when you easily concluded that it has happened again. You were too much. Too much to handle without being enough. Took up too much space without having anything substantial to say or do with it. Asked for too much despite not being worth even an ounce of it. Yeah, that.

It was always like that. So why would it be different this time?

Although you could feel Neil’s piercing gaze on your face, you did not dare look up. Instead, you tightened the hold over his hand and let your thumb brush his skin. The repetitiveness of the caress anchored you in the present. Sometimes, when you were brave enough to contemplate the reality, you marvelled at how easy it was to be like this with him. How you could touch Neil so effortlessly, without worrying about how it would be interpreted or what he could ask for in return.

“You contain multitudes. In the best way,” the affection in his voice made you push against the ridiculous thoughts and look up, even if only to see that same softness reflected in his eyes, “And I’m sure because I can’t imagine meeting you and not being absolutely enchanted, Cupid” squeezing your hand again, he raised your joined palms to lay a kiss on your knuckles.

By now, the move should have been something you were used to. But it wasn’t. It still made you blush, hiding the effects by dropping his gaze and focusing on the table. The warmth his words sparked in your chest simmered with a pleasant heat, almost eradicating every other thought and feeling. Until all that remained was Neil and his steadfast fondness, focused on you. For whatever reason.

It did not take your brain too long to realise the dangers of that line of reasoning, jumping into deflection before any other wayward thought could appear. Raising your head in time for Neil to see a performative eye roll, you replied:

“Christ, you’re really bad for my ego” it was not a lie, and you knew Neil could tell as much from how his mouth twitched.

Still, your hand stayed in his hold, too used to the contact to think about letting go. At least for a little longer.

“Ditto, babe” Neil’s smile widened into a bright grin as he shot you a wink, dropping the new nickname without hesitation.

Almost as if he hoped you would not notice. Wishful thinking and all. The discovery of his slip-up was enough to awaken you, giving your brain something to grasp. A distraction. A way to come back to who you were supposed to be.

Your eyes flashed, a familiar flicker of confidence and control making it easy to hold his gaze. To notice the uncertainty within the blue depths, spurring you on. Before Neil could even think about taking it back, you leaned in, invading his space and getting a whiff of his perfume. Like an addict getting a hit of their drug of choice. Stopping close enough to kiss him if you chose to, you let your nose brush against his in a light caress and whispered a taunting question:

“Ooh, it’s babe now, is it?” the thrill of being this close to him never got old.

It was strengthened by the awed look in his eyes, confirming the suspicions that you finally had the upper hand. Neil looked stunned, blinking rapidly against your proximity and the bold attack you dared execute. You stared as he came to, the hand holding yours twitched and Neil dropped his gaze, overcame with strange bashfulness.  

“If you want it to be,” the murmured reply was coloured with sincerity.

Both an admission and a question, opening the floor for your next move. Swallowing past the pause, you opened your mouth to answer before a loud wolf whistle cut through the tension, making you spring back as if burned. Neil dropped your hand, his gaze instantly switching to the doorway. It did not take a genius to figure out that your time has just run out, and the company has arrived.

Fixing a curious smile onto your face, you turned in the chair, your eyes instantly drawn by the arriving group. The reason for your shocking awakening - a tall, muscled man with a buzzcut and a thick beard was the first to enter. His startling blue eyes met yours as his lips twisted into a smug smirk. He glanced at Neil, some silent understanding passing through his gaze before he asked:

“Are we interrupting something?” the unmistakable Cockney accent in his voice made you grin.

The cheekiness of this stranger was something you felt almost at home with. It was something you knew, the familiarity of it quietening the rapid heartbeat in your chest. Somewhat reluctantly, you shifted your eyes to fall on the second person to enter the room. The short woman, her hair twisted into a tight bun (not unlike what you often sported on stage), met your curious stare with one of her own. The last to enter was a tall, Black man. His presence already emitted confidence and charisma that you could not understand. As soon as his eyes met yours, the man smiled – a light, reassuring expression that transformed his face into something kind and open. With a sigh, you twisted back in the chair and closed your eyes briefly.

They did not seem scary… At least not terribly so.

“Not at all,” you only half registered Neil’s hurried response, noticing him rise from the table and gesture towards you with all the awkwardness of someone unable to play it cool. Despite yourself, you smiled at the realisation, “So, this is-” he never got to introduce you, for the sentence got cut short with another boisterous interruption.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” the bearded man approached the table, his wide grin unfading in the face of your bewilderment.

The remaining duo joined him on either side, all three pairs of eyes focused on you without a dose of apprehension. While the scrutiny was something you expected (and were partially used to), it still made you falter. Tightening your shaky hands into fists at your sides, you rose from the chair and faced them with a matching bright grin. By now, the act was almost too easy to take on - no matter the circumstances.

“It is I, indeed” completing the admission with a theatrical courtesy, you extended your palm towards the woman with what seemed like a safe greeting, “Nice to meet you” she met your handshake without hesitation.

The first handshake was followed by a round of introductions and greetings, easing that early discomfort of not knowing people’s names. Through the few minutes, Neil stayed quiet, observing you with an intensity you were slowly getting used to. You did not understand it, but it was almost comforting in its constant presence.  Only once you were acquainted, you sat back in the chair. Conscious of the new company, you shifted in the seat and folded your hands atop the table, resisting the urge to meet Neil’s gaze as it bore holes into your head from over the tabletop. Before you could even think of anything to say, Ives broke the silence with what you came to understand as his modus operandi:

“Mate, I must say-” the cheekiness permeated every syllable as the man stared between you and Neil with a wide grin.

Curiosity sparked in your chest as you watched the interaction. The blind panic in Neil’s eyes completed the picture as he leapt from the chair and grabbed the sleeve of Ives’ jacket to pull him up.

“It’s best if you don’t,” the warning in his voice was something new.

Something fascinating, too. Something that you had a feeling you would be repeating in the quiet of your mind later. Later, when you were alone.

Now however, you stared as Neil completed the silent exchange with Ives and informed you all that it was time to get drinks. You got as far as telling him the order of choice for the night before the uncertainty caught up again. With Neil and Ives gone from the table, only two pairs of eyes were trained on you. A small mercy, indeed.

Ignoring the urge to flee the scene, you tried to settle in the seat and raised your gaze to meet the dark stare of the man who introduced himself as John. For some reason, his serious countenance inspired trust, making it a little easier to breathe out. The woman, Wheeler, was more intimidating, although you could not explain why if asked. It was not even that she seemed mean or judgemental, but rather that it was difficult to get a reading on her that you feared what she could be thinking.

Before you had a chance to spiral in that direction, yet again failing under the scrutiny of near strangers, John broke the silence with a question:

“So, how did you meet again?” the curiosity was undeniable in his voice, his eyes watchfully trained on yours.

Almost as if it was a test. Luckily, you knew the answers this time.

“On the tube. Neil was gallant enough to help when I dropped half the contents of my handbag on the floor” a fond smile appeared uninvited on your face, forcing you to drop his gaze and stare at the table instead. That did not go unnoticed. You could still feel their interest, like a constant weight upon your shoulders. It would take much more than this to shake it off, “I wasn’t leaving him alone after that” shrugging, you risked a tentative smile and a glance at your companions.

Judgement was still missing from the picture. Instead, the inquisitive light in Wheeler’s eyes turned into something sharper. For a split second, you felt perceived as if she could see through the bullshit smiles and nonchalant shrugs that made up your protective armour. As if she could peer inside the parts of your mind you did not acknowledge for fear of what you would find there.

Before you could let the simmering panic reap its fruits, John replied:

“And a good thing, too, because he shouldn’t be left unsupervised for too long” the humour in his voice acted like a needed respite, pulling you back from the blooming spiral and into the present.

Despite yourself, you grinned. A startled chuckle escaped your lips, confirming what you knew to be true. That, despite the doubts and perhaps an unconventional run of your friendship, you knew Neil. You understood him.

Enough to know that he should never be left to his own devices for too long.

“I’ve noticed,” a secretive smile shared between the three of you felt almost like an inside joke.

The feeling was strengthened when you heard Neil and Ives return from the bar, their banter audible even from beyond the doorway. You waited until the duo settled at the table again, the ordered drink placed in front of you with a smile, before adding, “Now I’m also forcing ballet education onto him,” winking at Neil to both tease him and draw him back to the conversation, you took a fortifying sip of the alcohol.

Not that liquid courage was needed. Of course.

“Which I don’t mind at all” Neil’s responding grin was worth any possible pain. Its warmth filled you from the inside with a mild bloom of affection, making it that much easier to let go of the remaining fears, “I’ll have to drag you with me someday. You’ll see how amazing she is,” directing the sentence at his friends, Neil took a sip of the pint and stared back as if to challenge your wordless wonder.

Even now, the constant praise was difficult to absorb. How could anyone be this nice and not expect anything in return? You did not know.

“There’ll be no dragging necessary. I’d go willingly” despite the apprehension, the first sentence Wheeler spoke to you was filled with enough friendliness you instantly felt bad for doubting her nature. She offered you a sure smile, the sparks of interest clear in her green gaze, “How long have you been dancing?”

Now that was a question you knew the answer to. Without daring to doubt the sincerity of their investment in your story, you dove into the tale. It twisted through the prodding and the questions, reminding you how much you relished being the object of genuine interest. How nice it was to share stories and have others listen instead of ignoring you or cutting short that which you dared feel passionate about.

Only once your tale found its conclusion in the current day and age, daring to share the hopes for the future, did the nerves resurface. You drowned them in another sip of the drink and chose to ask the question that never strayed too far from your mind these days:

“And you guys? What do you do for work?” admittedly, it was not the smoothest move on your part.

The eagerness shone through each word as you rested your chin on your hand and ignored Neil’s gaze. Perhaps tonight was the lucky one…

“We- You haven’t told her?” as soon as the hope began to build, making you lean forward in anticipation, Ives clearly remembered his surroundings, silencing his own reply with a question directed at Neil.

One glance at the man in question showed you the depths of panic, making you step in. Just in case.

“He hasn’t,” hoping the reassurance in your voice would be enough for them to believe you, you added, tone dropping to that teasing timbre Neil knew well enough, “Which has led to some rather… fascinating conversations” whether mentioning the many inside jokes was a good idea, you did not know.

But it was already done. The reveal did what you needed it to as you watched with interest the many emotions passing through their faces. Brief bewilderment was there, alongside confusion and boundless curiosity. But, perhaps most importantly of all, you could see respect. Hidden behind layers of thoughts and questions, but it was there. You earned it.

And through no other means than being yourself. Little victories have never felt more genuine.

“Such as?” Ives was the first to speak, prodding and teasing, his gaze filled with that familiar cheeky gleam, “Don’t leave us hanging, sweetheart” the nickname rolled off his tongue with ease, which seemed surprising to everyone but the man himself.

You did not mind. Stealing another glance at Neil, if only to check whether he still seemed somewhat alright with the conversation (barely), you allowed your mouth to twist into a telling grin:

“Wouldn’t dream of it” by now, Neil must have known what that smile meant.

The expectation was confirmed by his long-suffering sigh, interjected with a curse and a groan, sounding almost like a plea for heavenly intervention.

That is, if God, the Holy Spirit, or anyone else fancied being cursed while asked for help.

“Jesus fucking-” cutting himself short with another sigh, Neil covered his face with his hands, almost as if unwilling to take part in what would follow.

Still, you could see the remains of a fond smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. That discovery was enough to get rid of any traces of uncertainty. You leaned over the table and dropped your voice to a conspiratory whisper:

“My personal favourite is that Neil is a priest. He’s got the charisma, and I’m pretty sure those dashing looks would help to convert non-believers” admittedly, you were proud of delivering the line with a straight face.

Even more so when, after approximately five seconds, you had the desired reaction of three people dissolving into different stages of laughter at your whim. Despite yourself, you met Neil’s gaze, only to find him beaming with traces of good-natured annoyance in the gleam in his eyes. Wordlessly, you arched an eyebrow, seeking approval. Always eager to be praised for something you felt you deserved. His smile only widened as Neil sneaked a hand beneath the table and briefly squeezed your knee.

That just about did it when it came to praise.

Enough so that when a reply came from your unexpected audience, you were caught unaware by the tone and the knowing smirk present on Ives’ face as he asked:

“Speaking from experience?” startled, you looked up in time to see his confident grin, pointing towards a thought you had not entertained before.

They knew. At some point between the previous Friday night and today, Neil told them what had happened. He has perhaps shared it all, and now you were not only regarded as a strange woman he has befriended on the London Underground but also as someone he had sex with. A lover, if you dared label things. Although obvious a realisation, it was still somewhat unexpected, making your hands twitch as you slipped back on the mask of utter nonchalance. There was no point in pretending now.

“Absolutely” without batting an eyelid, you met Ives’ relentless smirk with an innocent smile of your own, choosing to take back control of the conversations as much as it was possible,  “So, whatever parish you belong to, I might want an invitation” concluding the story with a telling wink, you picked up the glass and took a long sip, relishing in the slight burn of alcohol down your throat.

The sensation was enough to distract you from the strange thoughts, inspiring you to give in to the constant pull and meet Neil’s gaze over the table. He was already staring back, his mouth quirked into a soft smile. It was impossible to discern what it meant.

“We’ll come back to this conversation. If that’s okay,” John’s serious voice broke you out of the daydream, making you look up at him with surprise clear on your face.

That same air of authority you noticed the first time you had laid your eyes upon him was even more visible now that you got to talk. Without being able to explain it, you felt like he was the person most in charge out of the whole quartet. The one calling the shots. If anything, the comment enforced the idea, making you drop the playfulness for a split second to offer him a nod:

“Perfectly,” if only to ensure you had not accidentally ended up on the shit list for being too nosy, you added, “Mind you, I’m not holding a grudge. It’s just curiosity,” and it was, just that. The pure desire to know all there was to know about Neil. To piece apart his entire being and analyse it as one does when having encountered something so fascinating they could not walk past it. Yeah, just that. Shaking your head to erase unwanted thoughts, you chose to fall back on what was pleasantly familiar – letting your mouth do the talking without consulting the head on whether it was wise, “Although now that I’ve met you all, I think that perhaps it’s my other guess that makes more sense” letting the sentence trail off to a meaningful pause was an easy fate.

It was something you knew how to do. Entertain. Entrance. Fascinate. All to draw that fleeting attention, which would not solve anything except making you believe you were worth someone’s time. For a short while.

It worked this time, as always. All four pairs of eyes trained on you with curiosity. Ives was the first to break the silence, giving you what you had been waiting for:

“Which is?” arching an eyebrow, he leaned over the table, mirroring your position.

A flash of exhilaration passed through your soul, alighting that which usually laid dormant. Without meaning to, you met Neil’s gaze again, copying the cheeky smile before offering an answer:

“That you’re all in MI6” if not for the distraction in the form of his blue eyes, you were sure you would have clocked in the reactions, or rather the alarming lack of them, sooner. You blinked against the intoxicating pull of him, barely registering the silence from your companions, and found the bravery to add that which was meant for Neil only, “I mean, you could definitely pull off James Bond,” acutely aware of the audience, you tightened your hands into fists in your lap to prevent yourself from reaching out, signing off the statement with a wink.

That, too, hit the mark. You watched with delight as Neil blushed, the pink hue blooming on his cheekbones as he dropped your gaze and downed the rest of his beer. A gleeful chuckle was unavoidable as you finally gathered enough coherence to glance at the remaining companions. The mix of joy, consternation and pensiveness was something to behold, arresting your attention and sparking interest. What could it possibly mean? Questions began multiplying in your brain as you stared, particularly drawn to the exact expression on John’s face. It resembled quiet resolve as if he had just made up his mind about something and would not be persuaded to change it no matter the circumstances.

You had a feeling that you were not an exception to that rule.

“Cupid-” whatever Neil aimed to say got interrupted before you could focus your eyes back on him.

Still, the nickname resounded at the table with an extra impact, perhaps because it was the first time he had used it with the current company present. Despite wishing to remain blind to little details, you took note of the flash of interest in Wheeler’s eyes as her eyes flitted between the two of you. Thinking. You itched to ask what about but also feared the answer. Before you could even gather your thoughts enough to understand the intricacies of the situation, John got up from the chair, pulling Neil alongside him with a tight grip on his shoulder.

“C’mon. Let’s get second round” his tone left no room for discussion as he directed a pointed look at Ives and started for the bar without another word.

You stared as the two men scrambled after him, clearly taken aback by the sudden command. Now, curiosity was an understatement. It bloomed in your chest as you stared at Wheeler, silently begging for answers before you found any words to express an ounce of the confusion:

“What did just-” whatever question you had aimed to ask, you never got the chance as she interrupted you smoothly with a sleight of hand.

“Pay them no mind” that was not a suggestion, either. The order was visible in the focused gaze Wheeler placed on you, its weight quickly becoming bothersome, making you shift in the seat. Soon, you knew it was for a good reason, “Neil really likes you,” there was no question in the statement.

No chance for you to deny the claim. It wasn’t a false claim, either. You knew as much without needing to think about it. He liked you. It was there in every fond look, every tender touch, every affectionate word. And you knew that it was something you were guilty of as well. There was no point in pretending otherwise.

Ignoring the ever-present desire to run away, you strengthened your spine and met her searching gaze with honesty on your face:

“I know. I like him too. Never expected to meet a best friend on the Jubilee line, but well…” shrugging to shake off the remaining worries at your sincerity, you offered her a careful smile.

As soon as the words left your mouth, you understood their importance. You had never admitted it out loud. That this was a first. The first time you voiced what was long established in your mind and heart. What happened before you were aware. Before you could stop it. Was that another mistake? You did not dare answer that question.

Instead, you dropped Wheeler’s gaze and trained your eyes on the table, fingers idly tracing the grains in the dark wood. You knew the conversation was not over now that she had you alone and clearly unable to keep quiet. You did not have to wait long for another hit.

“He told us about what happened after the ballet last week” the judgment was still missing from the equation, no matter how hard you looked for it.

With your suspicions confirmed, there was no point in trying to pretend. No point in acting as if what she believed was untrue. That, too, was a fact. An undeniable truth, memorable and unforgettable.

After a beat, you braved the intensity of her gaze, feeling something else underneath the simple observation. Wheeler hardly seemed like a person to say things without there being a point to them. This time was not any different. The green of her eyes told you she was curious, eager to learn your side of things, but at the same time, she seemed almost wary. Concerned in ways that did not make much sense except for maybe…

“And you’re against it?” the question burst out from your lips before you knew you had formulated it. There was an edge to it that you immediately regretted but did not take back just yet. Not before adding essential information that could sway her. Why it mattered, you did not know, “I must assure you that Neil is in control. I offered to keep this strictly platonic. He’s yet to give me an answer,” the words rushed out with barely a pause in between as if you were on borrowed time.

Perhaps you did not want the company to return before you could wrap up this conversation. Perhaps it felt like if you do as much as hesitate in your answers, you will never get the words out again. And that would not do.

Wheeler only finished her drink in the face of your frenzied confession and took another moment to stare at you calmly before answering:

“I’m not against it, just worried. Neil is a genius, but he’s also a fool. And a romantic, at that,” the tired resignation in her tone provoked a careful smile to appear on your face despite the blooming worry springing alongside it.

It was something you feared, albeit without ever entertaining the thought consciously. His friends had every right to be worried. In fact, you were happy to see someone else care about Neil the way he deserved to be cared for. Intensely. But it was another thing to be seen as a potential threat towards his happiness. Someone to be cautious of. Someone who could hurt Neil. Someone you desperately wanted never to become.

“The worst combo,” ignoring the spiral which had just begun to take root in your mind, you quipped.

The force of the jest got lost somewhere between your head and mouth, lining the words with nerves and uncertainty. It still got a reaction you hoped to achieve as Wheeler’s face broke into a tentative smile.

“Isn’t it just?” her eyes met yours with hints of good-natured delight in the green irises, almost making you feel better about what followed. As soon as she sobered up, you could feel your chest seize painfully, the fear sinking its cold fingers into the fabric of your soul, “The point is that I hope you don’t hurt him. No matter what ends up happening between you” the intent was clear in her gaze.

As was the message. Should you hurt Neil, there would be consequences. Simple. Infinitely more effective than an outright threat.

Somehow, you did not need to search your soul to understand the fear beginning to shape there. You were not scared of what Wheeler or the other would do to you if you hurt Neil. No, it was something much more terrifying. It was the pure horror of knowing that, realistically, you could break his heart. Even if that were the last thing you would want to do. Even if you would never choose to do so. The ability was there. And that was enough.

Swallowing past the desire to flee, you forced yourself to meet her gaze and offer an answer as close to the truth as you could manage. As close as you hoped to be.

“I’ll do my best” you could tell your mouth trembled as you tried to form it into a reassuring smile, but still, you wished for it to be enough.

Because there was nothing better that you could offer. You stared as Wheeler processed your reply, her watchful gaze peering right into the fabric of your soul. It felt like an eternity before she nodded once, ending the conversation with decisiveness. A tired sigh escaped your throat as you sunk lower in the chair. You knew that it would haunt you for days to come.

In the background, you could hear the approaching voices of the rest of your party. The noise sobered you, helping to push against the melancholy and paste on a mischievous smirk. With the mask back in place, you knew you could survive the rest of the evening. Somehow.

***

By the time you had left the pub, the warmth of Neil’s hand on the small of your back guiding you outside, it was late, and your cheeks hurt from smiling. That pleasant tiredness that often came from spending too much time with people, forced to be someone you were never sure you understood, burned through your muscles, leaving you slightly dizzy. But that might have also been the alcohol. Or Neil’s loose handhold, dragging you towards the underground station.

You were not quite sure when it had been decided that you would come back together, only that the conversation involved something with Jubilee Line name-drop and Ives’ boisterous laughter. And a knowing gleam in his eyes that you did not enjoy. Still, as Neil patiently led you down the streets of Soho and towards Leicester Square, you did not mind the result. It gave you more time with him. More time to talk and less time to think about what the eventful evening brought up. About the fears festering in your heart.

Still, the comfortable silence was broken only once you were seated in the carriage, Neil’s thigh pressed against yours on the narrow plastic seats. His hands folded in his lap, tempting you with a comforting touch just a move away. If you dared be bold.

“So… what’s the verdict?” Neil’s question acted like the needed wake-up, pulling from the depths of confusing thoughts and confounding feelings.

It was harmless, instantly drawing your smile from its hiding place. One glance at Neil told you that was the intent, with the affectionate look in his eyes, studying your face. Sometimes, you wondered whether there would ever come a time when you were brave enough to ask what he was thinking about when he stared at you like that. What it meant, if anything at all. Today, you could only return his look and offer a grin as a prologue to your reply:

“They’re insane people” your smile widened as you watched Neil bark out a startled laugh. It was a beautiful sound, making you bask in the glow of those unexpected joys. It was that spark of happiness that made you add, “Just like you,” leaning into his personal space, you gave his shoulder a nudge, this once hoping that the fondness could be seen in your eyes.

You wanted him to notice, to know that the teasing came from no other place but that of affection. That, as you confessed to Wheeler, Neil was important. Probably your best friend. An honourable mantle not many could admit to having possessed. In the entire history of your life.

Neil’s gaze softened as he returned the playful nudge and bumped his nose into yours, drawing a startled gasp from your throat. Proximity tended to do that to you.

“I’d say something about pots and kettles, but-” the warmth in his voice made you wake up from the strange thoughts as you grinned, rolling your eyes at the jest barely disguised behind the good-natured tease.

The sentiment still filled your heart with a contented type of joy, casting the previous anxieties back to the shadows where they lurked. For now, they were not needed. Now, all that mattered was turning your body fully towards Neil and blocking everything except for his beautiful smile and striking blue eyes.

“I own my insanity, thank you very much” feigning nonchalance, you shot him an unimpressed smile before dropping the pretence to offer sincerity. As he deserved, “I like them. They seem fun to be around, and I’d love to meet them again” you met his serious gaze with a wavering smile, feeling it shake beneath the uncertainty that loitered at the edges of your consciousness. Despite the wishes to do so, you did not seem capable of shaking off the anxiety tonight. The addition needed to be said, if only for your sanity, “That is if they don’t hate me” what started loud and confident was finished in a murmur, half-whispered at the dirty carriage floor.

Sudden losses of confidence were something you were not used to, yet getting more accustomed to by the day. At some point, unknowingly to you, along with the trust in the realness of whatever you and Neil had, that old, blind self-assurance dwindled. It was still there but wounded and unable to return to what it was. And you had no idea why that could be except for the terrifying thought that the simple reality of being perceived was enough to tear at your foundations.

You felt Neil’s careful touch, his fingers tipping up your chin, so you had no choice but to meet his reassuring gaze. The pads of his fingers lightly brushed the skin of your neck, kindling the fire that always burned underneath your skin in his presence. You barely resisted the urge to close your eyes and lean into the feeling, forgetting about the conversation and everything else.

“No chance, sweetheart” perhaps the confidence you had been missing could be found in Neil’s smile, shining at you like a beacon of benediction. Or at least it felt like sometimes, especially in the haziness of the late hours and fluorescent lights. Now, as if sensing your uncertainty, Neil covered your hands with his and squeezed them reassuringly, “I’m yet to get professional feedback, but I believe they liked you very much” risking a peek, you met his gaze only to find nothing but affection there, its intensity making you feel lightheaded. No matter the amount of practice, you did not seem capable of getting used to it. Not at all, “Not as much as me, though” when the conclusion to his speech finally arrived, you needed another long moment to process it.

Another beat still to find an opportunity within it. It presented a whole myriad, an easy way out of the conversation that would no longer feel so awfully revealing. A chance for you to reclaim the bravado that so often served as a shield. A protective veil to hide behind until you would be brave enough to face the truth. You were not going to let it pass you by.

Without wasting another second, you presented Neil with a familiar grin as his hand dropped from your chin. You instantly mourned the loss, although you did not let it show.

“Yeah, I’d hope not. I’m not sure I’d be into threesomes” the delivery of the line seemed almost impeccable, making you preen at the instant reaction on Neil’s face in the form of his utter bewilderment. He blinked as if stuck with an exceptionally persistent thought, as a pink hue spread over his cheeks, widening your grin. As always, the instant gratification hit like the finest of drugs, getting right to your head, “Might get too possessive,” the addition, covertly whispered into his ear despite the empty carriage, only strengthened the effect as Neil sputtered, choking on his saliva.

Moments like this were why you knew you were already beyond the hope of saving. There was no going back from this. No chance of forgetting Neil and moving on with your life as if none of this ever happened. Sometimes, when you were brave enough to be honest with yourself, you admitted that you did not want to forget, even if you could.

“Helpful feedback” seemingly recovered from his moment, Neil shot you a glare, barely hiding the happiness visible in his gaze.

Teasing him was always the highlight of every meeting, giving you a chance to practice what you knew you were good at, with the additional advantage of an audience hanging upon each word. Briefly, you wondered whether having an active listener at your beck and call was good for your ego. Decidedly not, but the damage was already done.

“At your service” instead of entertaining the ridiculous thoughts, you mimed a low bow in his direction and squeezed his knee instead of pressing another presumptuous kiss to his cheek. Those would have to be held back until the next time you saw him. Just to be safe.

You met his intense, unwavering gaze just in time to see Neil sober up. His permanent smile faded as he shifted in the seat, almost as if steeling himself for something. Before you could open your mouth to ask, he broke the silence again:

“I have an answer for you” the initial confusion at the opener disappeared as soon as you noticed the uncertainty in his gaze. That sudden shyness you were slowly becoming accustomed to replaced the previous bravery as Neil took a fortifying breath and sighed out the promised answer, “Yes,” there was nothing else to it.

Just one word changing the course of your relationship without a hitch or hesitancy. The suddenness was the only thing that surprised you, with the brain half convinced Neil would need weeks to decide instead of just six days. Still, the uncertainty in his face must have been contagious, for you felt it spread across your soul, eradicating any other feeling or thought. There was no space for joy or excitement at what this course of events would mean for you. There was only doubt.

Whether Neil knew what he was saying. Whether he understood what it meant. Whether he was not making the mistake, Wheeler worried he was capable of. Whether you had the right to ask him in the first place.

Painfully aware of Neil’s attention, you forced your rapid heartbeat to slow down and voiced the only question that felt worth asking:

“Yes?” perhaps it was superfluous, just another second wasted on confirming what was already done and dusted.

Perhaps it spoke volumes about the person you wanted to be – thoughtful, patient, selfless – instead of the one you knew you were. Perhaps it was just another thing you could blame on the alcohol in your system. None of the reasons mattered as soon as Neil’s sombre countenance broke into another sunny smile. His hand came up to hold yours as if without a conscious thought. You settled in the feeling to find the necessary grounding.

“Yes. Because I don’t think I’m capable of keeping hands to myself when I’m with you” although the comment was anything but soft and affectionate, Neil’s hold told another story.

You stared as his thumb traced an invisible path over your knuckles. Over and over again. Until it was a sensation you could anchor within, taking a deep breath to find your footing once more. It would be alright. It had to.

“That’s flattering” despite the numerous buts and ifs whirling in your head, you met Neil’s searching gaze with a semi-confident smile.

You meant it. That much was certain. Because doubts and worries aside, all that mattered was simple: Neil wanted you. Enough so to try something new. Enough so not to choose between your friendship and the intimacy you could have alongside it. Enough so you didn’t have to decide for him instead.

As if reading your mind, Neil turned towards you and tightened the hold over your hand. Without breaking the eye contact, he raised your joined hands to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss to your knuckles, repeating a move already so familiar, yet still somehow unexpected. The breath hitched in your chest as he leaned forward, his other hand cupping your cheek and the thumb carefully brushing over your blushing skin. Quickly, you became incapable of doing anything but stare, awaiting his next move.

Neil’s gaze roamed over your face, as always drawn to your eyes only to glance at your parted lips and get stuck there. Quirking your mouth into a smile, you barely had the mind to find an appropriate quip before Neil wiped the intent clear with one swipe of his thumb. You gasped as you felt his finger trace the contour of your lips, the lipstick applied just before exiting the pub still relatively intact. He seemed to contemplate the next step as his blue eyes flicked to yours, searching for something. Whatever it was, Neil must have found it, for the next thing you registered was a decisive touch of the offending finger, swiping over your lower lip to smudge the lipstick and smear it over the corner of your mouth. Another embarrassing sigh was unavoidable as you glanced up in time to see the hunger in his eyes. As is for the past week, he has been holding himself back just as much as you did. As if this was to be your new normal. The thought alone was enough to make you shiver.

“Even tonight, I thought about dragging you with me to the bathroom and…” the confession was whispered in the meagre space between your faces, Neil’s voice taking on the tone you already knew yet had not heard a while.

The low, husky notes reverberated through your veins, erasing any uncertainties you could have had. None of that mattered. You had Neil to do as you pleased, and he had you. For however long it would last. For however long it would be mutually beneficial. Of course.

Now, with the promise of what could be placed so openly in front of you, you did not want to waste a second longer. Time was precious enough. Ignoring the pounding in your heart and the way Neil’s fingers slipped down the slope of your throat to loosely rest over your collarbone, you decimated the space to nothing but millimetres and whispered:

“Next time, you can just ask” upon his silent question, you nodded, confirming what you hoped would be evident enough, “I’d let you” curling your fingers around his hand touching your collarbone, you pressed your joined hands over your heart and closed the gap to leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

The resistance from claiming his lips was running thinner by the minute. But, as with most things, you needed Neil to take that step. To confirm his words with something much more tangible than your entangled hands and knees pressed close.

“You’d let me do what?” Neil tilted his head slightly as if trying to get a better reading of you.

From the depth of feelings, he must have seen on your face.

The slight smug tint to his smile let you know it was all just a pose. He had it figured out already. Except that being a little shit that he sometimes tended to be, Neil wanted to hear you say it. Assuredly. Loudly. Just so there was no room for doubt and a chance to confirm what you both knew. The desire was very much mutual. Sometimes, especially at night, you liked to recollect the exact feel of his hands on your body and the sounds he made when he came inside you. Those memories were enough to make you climax.

Neil had that much power over you for better or for worse. Somehow, even before actively opening your mouth to speak, you already knew you would not put up a fight. There was no point.

“Whatever you want,” squeezing his hand that was comfortably placed in your lap, you made sure to meet his gaze when stating the obvious.

Neil took it with a blinding smile, his hand letting go of yours to venture up your neck again, lightly brushing over the faded bruises as if he could still remember where he had marked you a week before. You did not tell him that the morning after you took a picture of yourself in the bathroom mirror. Just to have another thing to remember him by.

“And now?” with your proximity, you could feel his breath fan your face with every word spoken.

The intensity in Neil’s gaze was almost too much. Almost, for it was exactly what you needed to be brave again. It strengthened the resolve blooming beneath your skin as you cupped his cheek and stroked the stubble with your thumb. It was impossible not to notice how Neil closed his eyes upon your move, leaning into your palm as if that was what he needed. With the evidence of your shared wants so clearly displayed, you did not need further courage to say what has been nagging at your brain for the past hours. One request gnawing at your mind, heart and soul, impossible to ignored.

“Now just kiss me” frowning at the needy tone of your voice, you waited for Neil’s eyes to snap open to add what was only aimed to be a further persuasion, “Please. It’s been too long,” noting the hunger in his gaze, you knew you did not have to convince him to give you what you asked for.

He wanted it too, only-

“A week” his lips twisted into an amused smirk as he arched his eyebrow in the face of your hunger.

Any other time, you would have let him indulge in it. You would have let him be a nuisance to fulfil the internal quota Neil seemed to have set for himself. But tonight, you had no patience left.

“Exactly. Too long,” freeing your hand to draw him even closer with a hold over his jacket, you closed your eyes and slid your palm to the back of his neck, angling Neil the way you needed him.

Neil did not need further pointers. You heard his quiet groan, half-swallowed by your mouth and felt him pull you as close as physically possible with his arm around your waist and a hand on your cheek. Your body moulded to his shape, lips slanting over his with practised ease. That first swipe of your tongue across his lower lip instantly reminded you exactly why his kisses were something you missed so desperately. The familiar taste filled your senses, making you dig your fingertips in the hair on his nape, tugging gently at the golden locks. It was impossible not to let out a quiet moan straight into his opening mouth. Neil’s tongue greedily collected the sound, mapping the inside of your mouth with attention to detail that still astounded you. As did his unwavering hold, arm gently supporting your back and keeping you close, nestled into his chest and the warmth it provided.

You kissed until oxygen became a prized commodity you could not willingly give up. Even if you wanted to. Only then, with a final decisive peck on his closing lips, you leaned back (only as far as Neil would allow) and opened your eyes. He was one step ahead, staring at you with a soft smile. There was no choice but to mirror the expression, relaxing your hold on his neck and pressing your palm flat over his heart. Neil’s thumb stroked your cheekbone, eliciting an embarrassingly affectionate look in your eyes. As if hoping to rectify its impact, you dropped his gaze and let go of him, aware that more tenderness between you would only spell trouble. And that was the last thing you needed.

As if reading your mind, a feat you were half-sure Neil was capable of (all things considered), he dropped his hands, letting go of you and offered another reassuring smile. A simple gesture yet sufficient in helping your heart rate drop to normal levels. A cursory glance out the window assured you had not accidentally missed your stop - another win for the nonexistent tally. Almost as good as the very next thing Neil chose to say:

“Soon, I might also have that other answer for you” his nonchalant tone was a striking contrast to the previous certainty and smugness.

But it did its job, drawing you in with ease. Despite the fading awkwardness, you met his gaze and noted the sincerity you could see there. The genuine wish to both make you comfortable again and share that one significant piece of his story you did not yet possess.

“The one that got you in trouble tonight?” risking a sly look, you arched an eyebrow and leaned back in the creaky plastic chair.

While Wheeler indirectly told you to drop it, there was no chance you would listen. And especially not when it was just you and Neil, alone and open to each other like always.

You knew you had hit the jackpot with your guess when Neil winced, a passing shell-shocked expression on his face hinting at slight trauma of the kind that only the closest friends could inflict upon one another. Whatever happened when John all but hauled him out of the room was not pleasant. And it only added to the curiosity in your soul.

“It wasn’t- Yes, that one” interrupting his attempt at deflection, Neil nodded, his smile dropping in favour of something much more serious.

It was not a sight you wanted to see. It seemed wrong. Especially then in an empty carriage with the flickering lights after such a pleasant evening. As much as you wanted to know, constantly consumed with the eagerness to unveil that remaining piece of the puzzle labelled ‘Neil’ (the label was blue, with the glittery gold letters and pink heart-shaped embellishments), the other part of your brain hated seeing him so sombre. Hated the fading smiles and the uncertainties those grey moments tended to unleash within Neil. There was no question about what you needed to do.  

“That’s okay, I already know all I need” without letting yourself falter, you reached out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder and offered him a bright smile.

Hoping to convey the most important message – it could wait. There was no rush. Nothing better to do but enjoy what you shared without further need to complicate it.

“Which is?” the hesitation in his question only drove the point forward, helping you eradicate the remaining inhibitions.

Even if just for this one moment. You knew your time was running out, with the St. John’s Wood station approaching mercilessly. If you were in luck, there were perhaps three minutes to spare. Three minutes to show Neil his secret did not matter at all.

Your hand slid down his chest to comfortably settle atop his knee, the warmth of his body slowly becoming your favourite type of anchor. Neil glanced at your subtle move, but he stayed still. Almost as if afraid to move and break the spell. This fear, too, had to be quelled immediately.

“That I’m allowed to do this” with a whisper, you leaned in and closed the gap again by covering his mouth in a gentle kiss. Where previously there was hunger and desire, this time tenderness reigned, helping you settle the right pace with measured pecks and soothing caresses of your hands upon his body. Neil matched you beat for beat, drawing you closer again and gladly accepting all that you were giving. You kissed until a familiar crackle of the PA system made you separate, panting mouth and hazed eyes shared between you. Grinning like a lunatic, you leaned back in for a split second to kiss his cheek and stood up before Neil had a chance to react, “And that you’re my best friend” it almost felt like a relief to say out loud. Especially when the confession was received with Neil’s surprised, yet blinding smile, breaking through the paralysis induced by your sudden actions. The train began to slow down, approaching your station platform. Without another word or reckless act, you approached the doors and turned your head towards him with a simple farewell “Goodnight” as soon as it slid open, you left the carriage.

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

AITA (M, 20) for not supporting my best friend and roommate's (M, 21) new relationship?

-> Day 3: Fake Dating. I know that robin is a lesbian okay

I and my best friend have known each other since forever. Our relationship had a bit of a rocky start (he used to bully me, then he started dating this girl (20, F), then I punched him in the face, me and his girlfriend started getting closer and we ended up kinda cheating while on a roadtrip together (though their relationship was already falling apart anyway), she broke up with him and we got together, the three of us spent lots of time together because we had no one else, and a whole bunch of more stuff. But we worked through it.)

We both were raised in a small conservative town - which, as two bi people, was not exactly fun. He didn't even know that you could like more than one gender, and I denied this part of myself for the longest time due to being in a m/f relationship.

My (or I guess our?) ex is super smart and got into a great university far away. The plan had been for me to go with her, but I was rejected and also didn't want to live so far away from my siblings (M, 16 & F, 15). So me, my best friend, and his other best friend (F, 19) moved in together to go to another uni. Well my best friend started dating his other best friend. Like, they already used to be extremely close, but now they are touching ALL THE TIME. And she keeps whispering stuff into his ear. And they only have eyes for each other. And are all giggly the whole time. And I feel...bad. I really though I was over the internalized biphobia. Just because he is in a m/f relationship doesn't mean he is any less queer or betraying me or anything. And now I feel doubly bad because even though I know that, it doesn't stop me from feeling this way. It is just a really fucking bad situation overall. Can anyone please help me?

nosyb!tch

Can you please elaborate on the whole ex-girlfriend thing?? Wtf??!?!

photojraphy

I don't think that that particular aspect is needed to better understand my current situation. Although I must commend you for your rather accurate username.

ifyoureadthisyouareGAY

Hey. Not to be that guy. But like....did you ever consider that maybe there is another reason why you may be upset about your bf being in a relationship?

photojraphy

No.

thebestlesbean

omg u/greathairington u/greathairington u/greathairington I TOLD YOU IT WOULD FUCKING WORK GAY FANFICTION HAS NEVER LET ME DOWN

greathairington

what the fuck jon robin is literally a lesbian?!?!?!

photojraphy

what.

UPDATE: My best friend (now boyfriend!!) (M, 21) and HIS best friend (F, 19) were faking a relatonship. As it turns out, he had been into me the whole time and was by now desperate enough to agree when she had the grandiose idea to pretend to be together in order to make me jealous. This is the reason I never caught them kissing: she is a lesbian. I can't believe I didn't know that. I can't believe it actually worked. I can't believe that me punching him in the face was his bi awakening. At least this whole thing had a happy ending. I will now bury myself into a hole.

thebestlesbean

Don't let that mf fool you they are literally so disgusting rn

photojraphy

(this message was deleted due to multiple infringements of our guidelines)

@stonathanweek

Uff.....

[pisupsala]

One for The History Books [Chapter 21] [Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw]

[Summary] You are an archivist at the Pentagon, sent on assignment to TOPGUN to catalog and report on a top-secret mission. In the days under the Californian sun, a certain naval aviator puts your once orderly life in a tailspin that you might never recover from.

[Pairing] Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc

[Warnings] Mature content: swearing, (explicit) smut. 18+ only.

[Words] 10.3k

[Index] All Chapters | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Epilogue

[Library]

 Chapter 21 - Landfall

“You know we don’t have to open it tonight, right?” You’ve noticed Bradley has been eyeing the box with a sort of nervous apprehension—his eyes flicking back and forth while you eat, still seated on the floor.

It feels like that’s the best place with zero pretense instead of sitting on the sofa, or god forbid across from each other at the table. “It can always wait.” 

That’s not to say you are not dying to know what’s in the box and why Bradley brought it. But you shouldn’t push it—especially not today. Everything still feels raw, precarious almost.

But still, Bradley took the massive first step in trying to fix the situation between you, and give you what you had been asking for him. Pushing him more right now wouldn’t be fair.

It’s hard not to feel overwhelmed. Bradley kept his suffering locked away for so long, and carried the burden of his traumas by himself while directing you away from it. Now he’s made the conscious decision to let you in.

All you can really do now is listen to him and support him in the way that he needs you to. And no matter how hard it might be for you, that also means backing off sometimes.

Bradley shakes his head in response. “I want to,” He looks at you with those warm dark eyes, still full of pain. “Because I want to make sure there’s not a doubt left in your mind that I’m giving every part of me to you before I leave.”

You can’t help but blush under his intense gaze.

“You’re really all or nothing, aren’t you?” You smile before turning serious. “But Bradley, I don’t want you to hurt yourself on my account like that. I don’t want you to tear yourself apart because you think this needs to be fixed completely, like, right now.”

Pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, you add: “I don’t doubt you. And I’ll be here when you come back, waiting for you. And the box will be here too.” 

“I don’t want to lose my nerve.” Bradley admits sighing lightly. You sit in silence for a moment, contemplating.

“Then, let’s do it.” You conclude, smiling up at Bradley. “Let's get rid of the pizza boxes first, though. Do you want another beer?”

“Are you sure you’re done?” Bradley looks at you somewhat skeptically as you get up from the floor. “You ate less than half of your pizza.”  

“Oh, yeah—I’m pretty full.” You shrug. 

Truth is, as that pizza was the first big meal you’ve had in about a week, the three odd slices you had made you feel overly full. You only started feeling hungry after the enormous dark pit in your stomach finally dissolved—because this is not the end. This is a challenge you need to overcome. And together you will.

“Are you okay?” Bradley’s words are pointed, not accusatory in any way, but worried. “We haven’t really talked about—well, my week was absolute shit.” 

You chuckle humorlessly. “Well… same here.” 

Obviously, you hadn’t been okay. At all. Like, Bradley is probably too much of a gentleman to say anything, but between the bruise, bags under your eyes, messy hair, and pallid skin, you look at least partially as shitty as you’ve been feeling.

You pushed yourself through the days at work, numbed by a near-constant stream of music, podcasts, and movies, collapsing in your bed the moment you came home, exhausted beyond belief. Yeah, it sure as shit didn’t help you could barely keep anything down, the corrosive feeling in your stomach pretty much locking you up from the inside.

“But I’m okay now.” You assure Bradley with a small smile, before adding teasingly: “If you give me a kiss, I’ll feel even better, actually.” 

You lean in, bending at the waist and resting your hands on Bradley’s broad shoulders for stability. With a playful grin, he obliges you, pressing his lips against yours. 

“It’s making me feel better, too.” He murmurs against your mouth softly. You squeeze, feeling Bradley’s muscles move under your fingers. You’ve missed him so much, but your kisses don’t go any further than that. You can feel his hesitancy—he’s not done with his bloodletting yet.

He still thinks there is a chance you won’t want him anymore. It’s pretty clear to you that this is just as much for himself as he says it’s for you. He needs to confront his past to start making his own peace with it; only then can he move past it.

And you will let him take the lead as long as you keep going forward, supporting him every step of the way.

Breaking the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours.

“You good, babe?” You half-whisper, eyes closed, reveling in his proximity.

“Much better, darlin’.” Bradley murmurs back, his voice deep and rough. It sends a jolt down your spine. 

Not the time.

Putting the pizza boxes in the kitchen and grabbing two more beers, you sit back down on the floor next to Bradley. He’s fidgeting, peeling the label off his nearly empty drink.

You pop the new bottles open, offering him one. In a single swig, he empties the beer he had been nervously handling, setting it back on the small coffee table off the side before accepting the new bottle.

Reaching out, he pulls the box closer so it sits just between both your legs. His hand rests on the lid for a moment. 

“Do you want to open it?” You quirk your eyebrow at Bradley’s sudden request. Gently putting your hand over his, you shake your head with a ghost of a smile on your lips.

Your instinct keeps telling you to help him, ease his discomfort, and carry the brunt of the situation because you know you’ll be able to handle it. You would do anything to lighten his burden, but some things are not up to you. You understand now this is not one of them. There’s no need to tell him—he knows—he needs to do this. 

As Bradley slides off the lid, you can’t help but lean forward to get a good look at the contents of the box. The entirety is messily filled to the brim with pictures and what looks like albums. Some seem to be thrown in haphazardly on top of the rest, edges bent and damaged from being jostled. 

“Oh…” The sound escapes you involuntarily as you realize what’s on the pictures. They are family pictures. Bradley’s family. Your heart clenches for a second—Bradley really took your words to heart.  

“It’s ehm-,” Bradley hesitates for a moment, clearing his throat, searching for words. “These are all the pictures I have left from my family.” 

Your head snaps to look at him—Bradley is looking forlornly at the pile of pictures, fingers tracing one that is on top before grabbing it. He studies it for a second, and then wordlessly shows it to you. Your eyes flicker over the picture before returning to his face. 

“I don’t really—I have no idea what to do with this.” He admits with a deep sigh. “I wanted to show you, but now that I opened it…” Bradley trails off.

“Is that you with your little league team?” You smile up at him kindly, pointing at the picture in his hand. “Where was that taken?”

You gently guide his hand closer to you both, so you can look at the photo better. There’s a gaggle of kids in the picture, all still very young in cute and messy little baseball uniforms.

“I - I think that’s still back in San Diego.” He starts hesitantly. “I think I was too young for little league there, that must be something like the local tee ball team.” 

“Which one are you? — Wait, don’t tell me. I want to see if I can guess.” 

Having faced a myriad of difficult decisions and situations in his life, Bradley didn’t think he’d view opening a box of old pictures as such a hurdle. His heart is beating loudly, and he has to consciously keep his hands steady.

He hasn’t really thought it through, and he hadn’t really prepared—he barely remembered what was in the box, or what state it was in. What was he actually going to do with this?

Somewhere, having to go through those pictures was always going to happen, but he’s been putting it off for so many years now that he can barely believe the moment is here.

But for one thing, he knows he can rely on you. Your kindness, your empathy. Your love. You wouldn’t let him struggle through this by himself. Like now. With gentle questions, you steer his thoughts away from anxiety and focus on the small things. 

You keep guessing wrong which kid he could be, picking ones that have darker hair. Not being able to keep a small grin off his face, he points to the small and skinny kid squinting against the sun in the second row. 

“No.” You look at him with comical disbelief. “You were not that blond as a child.”

You scoot closer to him as you bring his hand with the picture up to your face.

“That’s a trick of the light though, isn’t it?”

“Nope. Wait, I’m sure there’s more in here.” Bradley grins despite himself. “I think there might be a whole baby album.”

“Well, I for sure need to see that.”

Bradley leans forward, casually rifling through the pictures at the top of the box. Not being able to stop yourself, you spring up to stop him.

“Bradley, the pictures will get damaged like that.” You admonish him mildly as you carefully pick them up one by one and setting them aside. “Your memories deserve to be handled with care, don’t you think?” 

“You’re right.” He concedes as he feels his heart do a strange little jump. It’s almost painful, but it gives Bradley a strange feeling of elation. Back when he was moving around a lot from his childhood home to college, to boot camp to his first station, he simply consolidated all pictures into this box without much thought.

And here you are, carefully picking every picture up and arranging them in neat little piles on the floor next to the box. The gentleness of the gesture feels deeply intimate. Like you give every snapshot of his life a little bit of attention as you handle it with so much respect. Kindness. Love.

A kind of mercy he hasn’t allowed himself in all these years.

Much more carefully, he pulls out the baby blue album. His baby album. In all these years, he didn’t think he’d actually be looking through that again. That’s a thing for moms to do, right? Show every embarrassing childhood picture to your girlfriend and tell them every awful story.

For a second, Bradley thinks about Mav - he knows so many stories. He was there for them for all those years. As were many others that flew with his dad, although not as much. 

In the end, Mav was there for more stories of them than his own dad was. His mom was there for all of them—well, almost all of them. Some teenage mistakes Bradley would rather take to the grave, and would be more than happy if Mav did too.

Throwing up riding on the back of Mav’s motorcycle when he got too drunk for the first at a house party at the age of 15 would be one of those. Mav had laughed at him so hard, Bradley was sure would never live that one down. In all fairness, he never told Bradley’s mom what happened. He just got Bradley home.

Bradley leafs through the baby album, your chin on his shoulder, loving the little notes his mom made. The first plate of spaghetti (it was a massacre), the first time on a swing (never wanted to get off), first day at preschool on base (many tears), on the pier waiting for daddy to come home.

“You look so annoyed there.” You chuckle, pointing at the picture of a 3-year-old Bradley holding a scrunched-up welcome home sign in his little fists, barely dried tears staining his rosy cheeks.

“Oh man.” Bradley laughs lightly. “All I remember from that is we just stood there on the pier—it took forever, and it was so hot that day.” 

He pauses, trying to remember.

“I begged for an ice cream and my mom would tell me it’s a little bit longer; we had to wait for dad.” He reminisces. “That must have been the longest carrier docking in all history.” 

You giggle, thinking back to the past summer. Waiting for the carrier to dock and the sailors to disembark was tortuous under the summer sun for you, let alone for a small child.

“The next time I remember waiting like that…” Bradley trails off, suddenly deep in thought. “My dad never walked off the carrier.”

You hold your breath for a second.

“Only Mav came back.” Bradley swallows. “I could barely understand why we were there. Why we were leaving without dad.” 

“That must have been really hard.” 

“I mean—I don’t know… I was so young, it took me a while to comprehend my dad really wasn’t coming back.” Bradley has a pensive look on his face, as he stares at the far end of the room rather than at the album in his hands. “I remember much more vividly suddenly having to move out of our house, going out of state, living in a smaller place just together with my mom.” 

“How old were you?”

“Barely four. I think?” He shifts uncomfortably. It was easy to talk about the light stuff, although it always inevitably leads to dark memories. His dad not coming home, his mom always crying, moving away. Exactly the things he doesn’t like thinking about.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” You supply sincerely. God, his dad died so young. 

“‘S okay” Bradley mumbles. 

“Is that why you never wanted me to wait for you at the pier?” You inquire carefully, remembering Bradley’s exact argument of it being too hot and too boring.

“Yeah, no—a bit, I guess. But, no one had ever been waiting for me, you know?” He leans his forehead against the heel of his hand. “I went through all those rites of passage in the Navy by myself, just me. I thought I was fine with that.”

You regard him carefully as he still stares ahead, but you’re not sure he actually sees anything.

“I mean, none of my friends or girlfriends ever came. Sure as shit never invited them.” He just drops that casually into the conversation as you feel your eyebrows pull into a slight frown. “I guess none of them were tenacious enough,” 

His eyes finally meet yours as he grins.

“Or pigheaded enough to just go find everything out and show up.” 

You scoff lightly, a grin pulling at the side of your mouth. “You say that as if you didn’t want me to be there.” 

“No, no, darlin'—I fucking loved it.”  

“Do you think you are that undeserving?” Your question cuts sharply through the conversation.

“What do you mean?”

“You say I was pigheaded for showing up, but you were just as pigheaded for not inviting me—or anyone for that matter.” You cock an eyebrow. “So don’t you think you deserve anyone to wait for you?” 

Bradley sighs heavily.

“I suppose—I guess because there might be a day I don’t walk off that ramp, and I thought it would be easier if no one is waiting.”

“You believe that to be the inevitable outcome?” You intone mildly.

“No, no—I just…” You can tell by his manner, Bradley is getting frustrated.

You’re digging. 

Back off.

Let him take the lead.

“I’ll wait for you here at home or on the pier—wherever you want me to be.” You sooth. 

“I’m sorry.” Bradley apologizes softly. “I don’t mean to be so dark about it.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too.” You reply. “We don’t have to talk about it now. We have plenty of your pictures to go through.” You joke lightly, before adding more solemnly: “And we’re here for each other. That matters.”

“That’s all that matters” Bradley replies, pressing a kiss to your temple.

For a few moments of silence, you look through the next pages of the album. Bradley’s mom’s neat script shortly commentates every milestone. She clearly took a lot of care in making the album and took pictures prolifically.

Back then—before the age of video calls and digital photography—you suppose it was the only way to document everything that had been happening at home while Bradley’s dad was away.

“Your mom is so pretty.” You lightly trace the edge of the photo, adding: “I can see where you got your looks from.” 

Bradley chuckles in response. “You should see my dad—wait -” He leans forward to grab another album from the box. As he lifts it out, pictures slide from the pages, falling out of the bottom. You quickly sit up, helping Bradley tilt the album on its side, so the pictures top falling.

“For fuck’s sake.” He sighs, annoyed. 

You pluck the pictures that fell out of the box. They are wedding pictures of Bradley’s parents—they look resplendent, both dressed in white, smiling broadly. They are an incredibly good-looking couple. It strikes you how much Bradley looks like his dad—tall, generous smile, and of course the mustache. He looks dashing in his Navy whites, the same way Bradley does.

“You really look a lot like your dad.” You say pensively. “But I definitely see your mom in you too.”

“Mav used to tell me how much I resembled my dad when I was growing up.” Bradley carefully cracks open the album to straighten some loose photos. “I always took a lot of pride in that. Recently, he mentioned my temper is definitely my mom’s.” He chuckles dryly.

Carefully, you tuck one of the photos that fell out between the empty page. “Do you agree?”

“My mom…she—she always kept up a brave face.” Bradley shrugs somewhat uncomfortably. “She would never get really mad or sad, even though… she was. She would always hide it from me.” He slowly leaves through the album, eyes running over the pictures of the happy couple. “All the way to the end.”

Bradley pauses for a moment, as you tuck the other picture that fell out on another empty page.

“I overheard my mom and Mav have an absolute blow-up argument at the hospital. That was months before she passed away— I’ve never heard her so angry, like, screaming at each other. They stopped arguing the moment I walked into the room.” 

“I was nearly 18, not really a kid anymore, but mom never told me what they argued about. And even then, she would only cry when she thought I couldn’t hear.”

“It sounds like she was trying to protect you.” You supply kindly.

“I think she bottled everything up to the point of explosion.” Bradley sounds distant. “I guess I’m kind of the same way.”

“I still think…” Bradley swallows before continuing. “I believe that she never really got over my dad’s death. Mom would look at these pictures every day in the hospital, and I think she bottled up all her grief for so many years, it broke her heart for good.”

“I’m sorry, that’s really sad.” You say softly.

“I try not to think about it too much.” Bradley shrugs again, in a slightly more agitated manner. “It just makes me think about how she spent all those years grieving by herself and I couldn’t help her… was she ever happy again?” 

There’s no answer to that question.

“I think you can be happy about things even when still feeling the loss, because it’ll always kind of be there, right?” You begin slowly. “And our mom still had you. From what I hear, she clearly loved you a lot, going to great lengths to protect you from her pain. Maybe your happiness became her happiness.” 

“I hope it did.” Bradley sighs. Every page turned, every picture finally uncovered again, is like the weight is slowly rolling off him. Bottling up hurts. And it hurt for so long, the pain became a constant background noise. You’re right, he’s had moments of happiness despite the pain. Becoming a pilot despite the odds. Making it to TOPGUN. Surviving that mission. He’s been happy with you. 

It’s mostly in hindsight that he’s aware of the grief he still has in him at every moment. Bottled up. Closing the wedding album, he traces his fingers over the cover. It’s a matter of perspective.

Ironically, he pushed the happiest memories into a dark corner—literally in the back of his closet—never looking it at them because he couldn’t separate the happiness from the grief. And maybe, they don’t need separating. You’re right, the loss will always be there, but that doesn’t mean the happiness of those moments disappears. 

Ultimately, Bradley is becoming more and more sure of one thing. He couldn’t do this without you. He wouldn’t want to do this without you. Putting away the album, he wraps his arm around your neck, pulling you against him. You easily accept his gesture and lean into the hug, putting your arms around him. 

Bradley realizes that today is the first time in many years he allowed himself to reach out to someone for comfort emotionally and physically and that it was so readily given to him. Finally, the ever-present pain seems to dull.

“Thank you for sharing all this with me.” You whisper against his neck.

“It feels right.” He admits. “Things just feel right with you.”

You can’t help but smile as press yourself into Bradley. You’ve struggled with how… right things feel with Bradley. Always aware with the looming of darkness in the back of your head that this thing might not be more than a blip on the radar. Just a temporary madness. 

Like a knot being pulled loose, a new calmness anchors itself in you. It feels right. You can finally, unequivocally accept that. 

Slowly untangling from each other, you talk about look through one of the pile of pictures. Bradley laughs as he talks about breaking his nose during a training game in middle school baseball after a pitcher from the opposing team nailed him in the face as he was batting. Convinced he did it on purpose, Bradley waited for him after the game and started a fight. Getting a black eye and detention to boot, he elected to call Mav to pick him up and go to the hospital, too embarrassed to call his mom. 

“God, that dude was massive—had at least 50 pounds on me. I have no idea what I was thinking.” Bradley rubs his hand over his eyes, still laughing. 

“What did Mitchell say about it?” You ask, laughing too.

“Mercifully very little—all he told me was to get my temper in check or to get stronger and learn how to fight better.” Bradley grins as he rummages through the box.

“Solid advice.” You drawl sarcastically. Although you haven’t worked with Mitchell much directly, you’ve seen plenty of him in action and his unorthodox method of leadership. You are not at all surprised he would tell a 12-year-old that.

Bradley suddenly stills as his hand comes upon an object of smooth wood. He tries to keep his breathing even - fuck. 

He forgot this was in here.

You notice the sudden shift in Bradley’s demeanor, his hand half-hovering in the box, clutching an oddly shaped box. The moment you catch a glimpse of the dark polished walnut, the realization strikes you. It’s a display case with his father’s funeral flag and medals. Judging from Bradley’s reaction, it’s not a pleasant find.

“I - I -” The words are dying in Bradley’s throat. When he turns to you, you see the panic in his eyes. Carefully, you reach out to him, resting your hand on his shoulder. You don’t speak, leaving Bradley space to sort his thoughts and emotions.

He pulls out the display case, weighing in his hands hesitantly. He sits in silence, looking at the neatly folded flag behind the glass. Bradley swallows heavily, like he wants to say something, but the words won’t come. You rub your hand in soothing circles over his shoulder. You bite your lip to stop yourself from speaking. He needs this.

“My dad was Mav’s RIO.” Bradley’s voice is so soft, so broken, you would have missed his words if you had not been looking at him. “He died ejecting from their aircraft over the ocean.”

You move closer to Bradley. 

“He just didn’t walk off the boat one day.” His fingers run over the wooden sides of the frame. “And I barely remember.”

Bradley pauses to steady himself.

“I don’t know where the stories from my mom and Mav start and my own memories end—like playing the piano. I know my dad used to teach me simple tunes, but I…” He trails off for a moment. “But I remember the piano gathering dust for several years a lot more, and my mom crying when I started taking lessons.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Bradley blink rapidly.

“You know…,” You lick your lips nervously, trying to choose your words with care. It kills you to see him like this. “Memories are just one aspect of remembering. We remember through our actions too.” You turn to look at Bradley. His eyes are wet, as he stubbornly stares at the display case.

“Whether it’s through telling those stories, pictures, or playing the piano,” You continue, voice gentle. “That’s how you keep memories alive.”

Bradley doesn’t reply, eyes still trained of the blue and white of the folded flag, fingers twitching.

In a sudden move, he pulls you against him, practically dragging you from your spot next to him into his lap. He tucks his face into the crook of your neck. His fingers are digging into your flesh as he seems hell-bent on crushing you into him.

You let him.

You run your fingernails through the short hair on the back of his head comfortingly. Bradley is taking shaky breaths, his shoulders jerking lightly..

He can’t remember the last time he cried. Was it as his mom’s funeral? Or some time when he got way too drunk after boot camp? But now he can’t seem to stop himself. The tears just keep coming, like all the pain is suddenly fresh again.

You don’t say anything, and Bradley appreciates that. He presses himself into you like he wants to drown himself in you, trying to focus on your soft breathing to calm himself down. 

You have no words to help Bradley feel better, but sometimes it’s not necessary to speak to offer comfort. So you sit like that together on the floor, wrapped up in each other. Time could have been standing still all around you, and you wouldn’t have noticed. 

Eventually, slowly, Bradley’s breathing evens out. It’s like the atmosphere evens out with it—the final slivers of tension, the precarious balance of emotions and rawness in your hearts— start dissolving around you, leaving only love.

Bradley presses a kiss against your jaw and whispers a thank you. 

“There’s nothing to thank me for, babe.” You chuckle, hugging him a bit tighter against you.

“I’m thankful for you.” He replies sincerely, pressing more kisses against the column of your neck. You pull away a fraction to capture his lips with yours. Lightly biting down on his bottom lip, finally, he tilts his head in such a way that lets you deepen the kiss. You can’t even describe how much you need this: to feel Bradley again.

Gracelessly, you try to get up while guiding Bradley up with you without breaking the kiss. It’s a mess of limbs and hurried movements. You stumble as your foot gives out from under you, nearly falling onto the sofa. Bradley easily catches you.

“Fuck - my foot is asleep.” You wince as the pins and needles shoot up your ankle.

Bradley laughs. Light dances in his eyes as he hoists you up, legs wrapped around his waist. Seeing him like this makes your heart soar.

“Don’t let go of me.” He warns you, still smiling.

“I can’t.” You echo. “I don’t think I ever can.” 

With practiced ease, Bradley steers you both to the bedroom. You’ve spent the evening in the past and you need to get back to the present to ground yourself in each other.

The bedroom is a mess; sheets crumpled, pillows strewn around the bed. But neither of you cares. Bradley gently lays you down on the bed, your legs still hooked around his hips while he rests one knee on the mattress for stability.

His hands run up your sides, bunching up the silk of your blouse. Your breathing gets heavier as you feel his large warm hands through the fabric. Your fingers dance up his forearms, past his elbows, over the rippling muscles of his upper arms, pulling yourself up by his shoulders as you sit up to capture his lips in a searing kiss.

Gently grabbing one of your wrists, Bradley slowly lays you back down. 

“Let me take care of you now, darlin’.” He practically purrs. A giggle escapes you as his lips latch onto the column of your throat, his thumb running over the erratic pulse point on your wrist.

You sigh as you close your eyes, allowing yourself to feel even more. Bradley’s free hand is deftly undoing the buttons of your self-proclaimed armor. Arching your back off the mattress, brushing your bra-clad breasts against his chest, the silk shimmies off your body.

Momentarily leaning back, Bradley easily shrugs off his own shirt as you pull your arms from the sleeves—both garments end up somewhere in the dark of the room. Not missing a beat, you trail kisses up his broad chest towards his neck. Lightly biting down on Bradley’s collarbone, he hisses. You love that sound.

Fingers brushing down his stomach, you feel his muscles move under your feather-light touch as you reach the waistband of his jeans. Before you can do anything else, Bradley swipes your hands away, smoothly bringing them over your head and pinning them down.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He murmurs against your lips, free hand undoing the button of your slacks, and slipping into your panties. “I’ll take care of you.”

You moan in response. Bradley wastes no time running his fingers up your slit, rubbing your clit at a tortuously slow pace. He knows your body almost as well as you do yourself; keenly feeling when to speed up, add pressure, mapping out every sensitive spot.

Your hands twitch, but Bradley doesn’t yield his grasp on your wrists. His lips travel down from your jaw, over your throat, nipping on your collarbone, down to the lace edge of your bra. The sensation of his hot breath through the thin fabric makes your head spin. You arch your back, trying desperately to maximize contact.

“Plea- please.” You beg in a whisper. Bradley just grins as he gently nips at the flesh of your breast. He has a need a regain control, a push to assure you, but mostly himself, that despite your relationship fundamentally changing with new emotional depths he never explored with anyone like that before, he is still him. 

He plunges two fingers into you, his thumb on your clit finally speeding up. Bradley leans back up just a little, hearing you whimper at the loss of contact, so he can take a good look as your body moves under him—hair mussed, blush spreading down your chest, breathing heavily as you buck up against his hand. 

Fuck, you look so good, you feel so good.

And you’re like that just for him.

Your eyes search Bradley's—pupils blown, dark with desire, a light blush dusts his cheeks—they are filled with warmth. Love. You tilt your hips up, muscles taut, as the pressure starts building in you. Bradley immediately responds to you without needing a single word, knowing exactly what you need: his fingers hooking up in you, moving in tandem with his thumb. It tears an incoherent moan from you.

Finally he releases your wrists and without hesitation your hands tangle into his curls, pulling his mouth to yours non-too gently. As he leans over you, never missing a beat, pumping his fingers in your pussy relentlessly, he uses his other hand to push away the lace of your bra. His fingers immediately pinch and pull your nipple, adding to the building pressure in you.

“Bradley…” You moan unabashedly. His skin is so hot under your touch, everything about him sets you aflame. You buck your hips harder, feeling so close already. Bradley drags his teeth along your collarbone, stopping at the pulse point at your neck, and biting down. 

You scream out in ecstasy, your muscles coiling tight, wrapping yourself around Bradley, pulling him along in your wave. Bradley’s mouth crashes into yours, swallowing your scream. As your cresting wave makes landfall, a calm settles back into your tired bones, and suddenly tears spring up behind your closed eyelids. Bradley is still kissing you deeply, his tongue moving against yours, devouring every thought.

You break the kiss to catch your breath, your teary eyes meeting his for a few seconds. As he hovers above you, you take every bit of Bradley in. Your muddled brain tries to come to a coherent thought, but in the end, you feel it more than you can formulate it.

You are the luckiest girl alive.

Hands moving of their own accord, you reach for Bradley, nails lightly raking down his chest. Bradley pulls you up with him, cradling your face in his hands as he presses a kiss on your lips. You pop the button of his jeans, sliding your hands down his boxer shorts. Grasping his rock hard shaft, you start pumping slowly. Bradley groans as he nibbles your bottom lip.

“I’m not done with you yet, darlin’.” He teases.

You giggle softly. “But I want you.”

Bradley only responds by unclasping your bra and sliding it down your arms. You press yourself against him, wanting to feel him against you. His hand is massaging your breast, tweaking your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine.

Skimming his fingers down your sides, he tugs your slacks and underwear down your legs in one smooth gesture. They end up somewhere in the darkness of the room, along with the rest of your clothes. You push his pants down his thighs—he easily steps out of them and you pull him with you onto the bed.

His hot mouth is on your tits, as you palm his cock. 

“I need you inside me.” You breathe. Bradley doesn’t respond at first, kissing and nipping his way down your body.

“I’m still not done with you.” His breath is hot against your soaking pussy. You whimper, blindly reaching for his hair as his tongue presses against your still-sensitive clit. Hooking your knee over his shoulder, using the leverage to tilt your pelvis just so, you know you’re not going to last very long under his assault. He squeezes your thigh as you tug his hair painfully. You roll your hips against Bradley’s face, setting a much-needed feverish pace. He acquiesces, tongue flicking against your clit without break, tearing a litany of swears from you.

“F- fuck, Bradley - don’t stop,” You beg, breathlessly. “You’re so fucking good.”

His free hand harshly squeezes your breast, pinching and manipulating the nipple as he hums—you feel the deep vibrations go through your core. Your body feels electrified, the pressure building in you from Bradley’s onslaught. He can feel your body stiffening, hips jerking, breath quickening. He knows you’re close, and he wants to pull you over the edge of pleasure.

You are mumbling incoherently, Bradley’s name on your lips like a prayer, as the coil in your stomach is wound almost painfully. Just a little bit more. He is relentless in his mission, tongue lashing against you. Splaying his hand on your lower stomach, Bradley stills your hips, building the anticipation even more.

Just when you think you cannot take it anymore, the coil in you springs. You cannot even begin to care how loud you are right now. Bradley is still holding you down, his mouth buried in your pussy as you cum, moans filling the room.

 It feels like your breath has been ripped from your lungs. You are only vaguely aware of the tears leaking from your screwed-shut eyelids—your brain feels like it has been disconnected from your body completely, static electricity flickering through your veins. 

“Fuck, darlin’…” Bradley is panting. His voice is suddenly close, concerned. “Hey, are you okay?” His finger trails down the wet streak down your cheek.

Slowly opening your eyes, colorful spots filing your vision, you look up at Bradley. You don’t know why there are tears on your face. The intensity of the moment is overwhelming, but you aren’t sad in any way.

“I’m okay.” You croak, softly pressing your lips against his, tasting yourself on him. “You just completely blew my mind.” You joke lightly.

“I’ll accept that reason.” Bradley grins. “Do you need a break?”

You shake your head almost petulantly. “No, I need you.” 

“Please.” You add softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. You want Bradley close.

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear. “Anything for you.”

He slides his cock into your slick pussy, drenched in your own cum, in one swift motion, filling you to the hilt. You moan as Bradley swears under his breath.

“Fu- fuck, darlin’, you feel so, so good.” His voice is deep, rough, and so close, his mustache is brushing against the shell of your ear – it’s sending shivers down your spine. 

Bradley sets a slow, almost leisurely pace. He wants to savor this; your blushing face, glassy eyes looking up at him as you wrap yourself around him. Your look of love. This is how he wants you committed to his memory forever, and quietly wishes this would be the look he would see in his dreams.

In the meantime, he will make to be worthy of that look every day. So you will look at him like that every day. Only at him. Your fingers are running down the side of his face, a small smile gracing your lips. He grabs your hand and presses a kiss against your palm before intertwining your fingers with his, squeezing your hand as he rolls his hips against you. 

It feels so intimate. So much more intimate than ever before. 

You always tried to be strong, but you had also shown your vulnerability and insecurities to him. You cried, you were angry, your hands shook when you unbuttoned his shirt. Now that you know him, arguably better than almost anyone else, Bradley cannot help but feel like the axis has tilted. He trusts you. With himself, with his pain and his love.

Admitting and accepting that makes everything so much clearer.

“I love you.” The words come out naturally. It’s a verbalization of what he’s been feeling for a long time now and saying the words is familiar, because really, he’s told you many times in many different ways already, just not with those words.

“I love you too.” You gasp. “S- so much.” 

Leaning on his elbow, fingers still intertwined with yours, Bradley speeds up the pace—his cock driving into you hungrily. Your tits bounce deliciously every time he fills you to the hilt, your hips rising to meet his every move. He missed you so much, he knows he’s not going to last long. 

You feel Bradley’s hips starting to stutter irregularly as he’s speeding up, a light sheen of sweat forming on his brow. Your nails rake over his back, tilting your hips for more friction. Bradley groans, brow furrowed as he searches for release. 

“Will you cum for me?” You encourage sweetly. “Cum for me, Bradley, I need you.”

How can he refuse, when you ask him like that? 

Bradley pounds into you, your moans and his swears filling the room. He squeezes your hand painfully, as he closes his eyes for a moment, never losing the relentless pace.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m so close.” He grinds out.

“Please, Bradley -” You beg in a whispery voice. 

Bradley moans loudly, swearing as his movements turn erratic, trusts turning irregular until his hips stutter to a halt. Breathing heavily, he rests his forehead against yours—your breath mingling before his body slowly sinks into yours. Together you lay there in a bubble of contentment, between the messy sheets, clothes strewn around and the chaos of your week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Darlin’, are you awake?”

You blink heavily against the sunlight streaming into the room. You went out like a light last night. Both Bradley and you were so exhausted from everything that happened that week, you pretty much fell asleep on top of each other. You only managed to go to the bathroom before completely conking out, Bradley was already fast asleep by them.

“Wha- what time is it?” You ask, voice thick with sleep. It’s only as you gain some awareness of your surroundings, you notice Bradley is not in bed with you anymore, rather standing next to it, bent over you. He’s dressed in only his boxers, while you are still naked under the covers.

“It’s a little past 11.” He replies, pressing a kiss on your temple. Fuck, that late? “But more pressingly, sweetheart; you don’t have any coffee. Actually, you don’t have much of anything in the house.”

Oops.

“Yeah, I kinda forgot to go shopping.” You mumble, rubbing your eyes.

“And here I was going to make you breakfast.” Bradley teases. “Come on, get up. At least let me take you out.”

“I need to shower,” You yawn, scratching your head. “Ugh, and wash my hair.”

“Well, let’s go take care of that.” Bradley grins, as he scoops you up from the bed, causing you to squeal in delight as you scramble to grab onto him. He effortlessly pulls you up from the bed, the covers still wrapped around you. You laugh together as he carries you out of the bedroom.

The shower take way too long—mostly because you spent less time washing, and more time pinned against the tile wall, moaning in ecstasy. Gasping for breath, wetter from sweat than water and Bradley’s cum dripping down your thighs, you end up kicking him out of the shower. You’re going to be stuck there for the rest of the day and your water bill will be through the roof. He leaves you with a wink.

You make quick work of washing your hair, lathering it with conditioner and shaving for good measure. Hair wrapped in a towel, you get dressed in comfortable jeans and a simple cotton shirt. You’re going to need to blow dry it before you go out—also you should really do your makeup. The bruise is slowly getting over the worst of it, but it’s still pretty visible.

Head bent down, rubbing the towel through your hair, you walk into the living room. From the corner of your eye, you see Bradley sitting on the couch, fully dressed already. “Babe, are we really out of all coffee?” You’re dying for a cup.

When he doesn’t immediately respond, you look up, holding the towel up from your face. Bradley is gingerly holding his parent’s wedding album, carefully moving the loose pictures into place.

 “Do you think it’s fixable?” His voice is quiet. “It was my mom’s favorite album.”

You blink, before rewrapping your hair and sitting down next to him. Carefully, you pick up one of the pictures and inspect it.

“Yeah, I’ve seen this happen a lot with picture collections we get. It looks like the glue disintegrated.” You note as you look at the back of the photo. As you suspect, the glue in the corners has left only brown residue and has long-lost its function. “We do restorations regularly—well not me, per se, I did it as part of my rotations as an intern—but it can be anything from humidity, or just a bad batch of glue…” You trail off, realizing you’re rambling.

“Can you fix it?” 

“Me?” You cannot hide your surprise at his request. “I mean—I can get some of the supplies we use at work.” You regard Bradley carefully. “Do you want me to do that?” 

“Yeah…” He sighs. “I’m kind of… scared I’ll ruin it.” He looks at you from the corner of his eye. “And you’re the archivist here.” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not really a conservation specialist, but I’ll do my best.” You reply earnestly. This feels like a pretty serious responsibility. “I’ll get some special glue, and maybe some protective sleeves and smaller boxes to store all the other loose photos, okay?”

You smile lightly at him, feeling a blush creep up. The way Bradley puts his trust in you to care for the last tangible memories he has from his parents gives you butterflies.  “Your mom did such a great job dating all the photos, I can order them for you.” 

You pause for a moment.

“If you want, that is.” You backtrack, unsure. This is not a history project, it’s not an anonymous donation to archives from someone’s estate, these are Bradley’s memories. It should be his choice. “I will do what I can to help you.”

“Thanks sweetheart.” He carefully closes the album. “I trust you completely with this—you know so much better than I how to care for all these things.”

“But they are still your memories.” You say, voice soft. “And in the end, you need to be happy with it.”

“You make me happy.” Bradley replies mischievously. 

“You are impossible.” You grin, as move to get up.

“Impossibly in love with you?” He teases.

Okay. So it would be a complete lie if that doesn’t make your heart jump so hard it’s making your rib cage rattle as blood floods to your cheeks. Regardless of how fucking cheesy that is. 

You try your best to shoot him a withering look, although it probably lacks power. Bradley is trying to get a reaction out of you. You can tell by that cheeky glint in his eye, the way his mouth is pulled in that cocky half-smirk and the casual figure he cuts, leaning back on the sofa; he knows he succeeded.

You just grunt in embarrassment, pulling the towel back over your face as you leg it out the room, leaving Bradley to enjoy his victory. 

Bradley ends up taking you to a diner—which is fine by you, because regular refills on coffee is exactly what you need right now. You slide into a booth together, Bradley immediately wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

If Bradley was tactile before, he’s turned it up to 11 today. Not that you are complaining. It feels like you need to fill up on everything Bradley—like you’ve lost precious time, even if it was just a week—before he leaves again. 

Rationally, you know it’s only a month. He’s been gone for longer. You’ve been through this together. But it suddenly all feels strange again, a little bit apprehension under the surface, as you see your connection in a new light full of new heights and depths. It never felt better, but this time being apart will be different from before.

You eat your breakfast in relative silence—honestly, after the first bite of your blueberry pancakes, you realize how much you are starving. You lean back against Bradley, nursing your coffee.

“Hey babe,” You start, looking up at him through your lashes. “You’re flying out to Texas on Tuesday, right?”

Bradley nods. “Yeah, about that…” He trails off, while he fidgets with his mug. “No, never mind, it’s stupid.”

“What?” You sit up, looking at him curiously. The tips of his ears are red as he avoids your gaze. “Come on, tell me.”

“I’m flying commercial, so I was thinking to change my ticket to fly out of D.C.”

“Won’t that be expensive, changing it so late?” You ask, not unkindly.

“Well-” Bradley hesitates, eyes roaming the room nervously. You are seriously wondering what has him out of sorts like this suddenly. “I was thinking you could drop me off at the airport Tuesday and take the Bronco. You can use it when I’m gone, it’s safer than your car anyway. It would make me feel better if you use my car.” He ends his sentence hurriedly: “And then you could come pick me up again whenigetback.”

Letting out a deep breath, Bradley continues, voice forced light. “But it’s stupid, you have work, and you’re right, it’s probably kind of late to change my ticket.” 

“Hold on.” You cut in, gently placing your hand on his cheek and turning him to face you. “Babe. Do you want me to take you to the airport and pick you up when you get back?”

“Yes.” He replies earnestly. “But it’s such short notice, I don’t want you to get into trouble with work…”

“I’ll handle that, don’t worry.” You smile. “Of all places, the DoD will understand I have to say goodbye to my handsome naval aviator boyfriend because he’s leaving for a month.” 

“I’d love to do that for you. I want to be there for you.” You tell him honestly. “And I’m not saying that just because you’re lending me your car for a whole month.” You add with a grin.

Bradley laughs loudly at that. His eyes crinkle, the apprehension suddenly leaving him. He presses a kiss against your lips. “I’ll be rebooking my ticket then.”

“You do that.” You smile—it means you will have him with you for two more days, instead of him leaving on Sunday already. Sometimes things just work out like that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Bradley leaves for Texas, you spent your evenings going through the pictures from the box. Gently cleaning them, tucking them in protective sleeves and ordering them chronologically in new boxes where they won’t be thrown around so much. 

As you clear out the box Bradley left you, you find small trinkets that must have been thrown in at some point. A small plastic soldier, scraps of paper, lots of dust. You clean everything and save everything that might be of worth in an envelope. It’s not up to you to throw anything away.

Stuck in the corner of the box, you find a pair of dog tags that belonged to Bradley’s father. They are smudged and dirty—you have no idea if that’s from being in the dusty box (which was stored god knows where for how long) or this is the way they were returned to the family. 

You want to ask Bradley, but elect to do so when he is back. He calls you almost every day, but you notice his unease when you ask about objects from the box. It’s still difficult for him. And he tries so hard.

So instead, you order a flat, rectangular box through work, once that is specifically used to store small items. You fill it with soft foam, cut to measure, and carefully pin the dog tags into place. Bradley can decide what he wants to do with this later.

It’s late at night, almost halfway through Bradley’s training mission, you find something unexpected. 

It’s a crushed ring box. 

The hinges are rusted and twisted, the top of the box sitting at an awkward ninety-degree angle. It’s empty, the once soft fabric on the outside torn and stained. The button to open the box is loose in the socket, jiggling sadly with every movement.

It mostly likely got torn apart between the heavy albums between different moves, just loosely thrown in, unsecured in any way.

It doesn’t look like it can be salvaged. Not only that, but it’s beyond your skill, that’s for sure. Still, you carefully place it in an envelope. Maybe you can ask someone at work if they know someone (a jeweler? A carpenter? Who actually repairs things like these?), although it looks like a commercially produced box. Getting it restored will probably cost a lot more than getting a new one. But this is not your decision to make. 

More importantly: there is a ring box, but no ring?

You should go to bed. But you cannot resist a good mystery. A missing puzzle piece. 

It’s late, so Bradley is probably already asleep. He mentioned he has an early start tomorrow and you don’t want to disturb him. But you also don’t want to wait almost two weeks before you can ask about the missing ring. 

You take out the last items from the box—it’s as good as empty now.

You use the torch on your phone to get a better look, fingers running along the edges of the cardboard. There’s a dust bunny, a few scraps of paper and what looks like a lone Lego brick. No ring.

Carefully peeling back the flaps on the bottom, you lean closer for a better look. Still nothing. You wiggle your hand under the flap, fingers exploring every nook and cranny. Your hand is getting coated in dust and what feels like grains of sand. 

Yuck.

Still no luck.

Maybe there is no ring, and it’s been long lost between Bradley’s moves.

But that’s kind of boring.

Putting your phone away, you sit back, rocking on your heels. 

Fuck this.

You flip the box over, shaking it with some vigor. Sand, dust and Lego hit the floor with soft thuds. Suddenly, a soft-

Ting.

Metal hitting the wooden floor.

Ting.

It bounces.

Quickly, you push the box out of the way. 

There, between the dust and the grime, landed a golden ring. The almond shaped topaz, set between two smaller diamonds, glitters like the sun, even under the artificial light of your living room light.

Carefully picking it up, you study it. Like everything in the box, it’s kind of dirty and scuffed. As you look at it—it is a beautiful ring—it dawns on you. It looks familiar. 

But… from where?

Oh fuck.

Pulling out the wedding album, you flip the pages until you find the picture you are looking for. You’ve spent a better part of a week, every evening after work (sometimes while on the phone with Bradley), carefully peeling the pictures off the page and painstakingly reapplying them until your back hurt. You’ve gotten plenty familiar with every photo. 

There it is. 

Bradley’s parents, in close up, smiling at each other lovingly. But more importantly, her hand is resting on his shoulder, and there, clear as day, sits that exact ring.

It’s his mother’s engagement ring.

Suddenly, your heart is beating so loudly, you can barely hear yourself think. You know Bradley didn’t leave it in there for you to find. Hell, considering the state it’s in, he probably forgot it was in there in the first place.

But.

You cannot deny that you’ve not allowed yourself a little dream here and there. In the long term, you indulge in the fantasy of getting married to Bradley. Would Bradley marry you? You’ve never talked about marriage, or kids, together.

Finding this ring now sets your mind into overdrive. He would look so good in his formal uniform. He would kiss you so sweetly at the alt- oooh, this is bad. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose. 

Okay. Focus on the practicals. 

The ring box is busted, so you need to find a place to store the ring. You could order a new ring box online, but you don’t want the ring to just lie around your desk in the meantime.

It feels a bit too forward to place it in your own jewelry box. It’s not yours, it shouldn’t be there. The only other place… the box with the dog tags.

Your breath sounds loud in the otherwise silent room—adrenaline is still coursing through your veins as you open the small box. With the thin blade you use to lift pictures off the page, you slice a small slit into the foam, next to the dog tags.

The ring slides in easily, glinting happily in the light, cozily tucked next to the dog tags. 

It looks… right, you decide. 

You close the little box lovingly. 

It feels right, having them together like that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today is the day. You are bouncing on your heels, trying to see over the crowd of people in the arrival hall. 

You’ve checked signs at the exit at least a dozen times. It’s really this exit. Every 30 seconds, your eyes flicker over to the display—no, the arrival hall for Bradley’s flight hasn’t changed, yes, it’s still the same exit. The airport app only confirms it.

You fidget with the belt of your light trench coat.

Why are you so nervous?

It’s only been a month.

You’ve arrived too early—Bradley’s plane hasn’t even landed yet. But you’ve been having this dreadful, horror-filled premonition you’d be late—when he finally asked you to wait for him. 

You can’t fuck this up.

But now you’re here, a good 20 minutes early, nervously shifting your weight from foot to foot, watching people around you mill about. Weary travelers rush past you to taxis, while people have small and big reunions, and designated airport pick-ups hold signs with bored expressions.  

It’s torture. 

You should have brought a book. Or at least your AirPods or something. Anything to distract you from looking at the clock every 5-odd seconds, getting distracted by every announcement made, and ultimately disappointed every time with how slowly time is going.

Trying to stop yourself from pacing like an absolute madwoman in front of the exit, you stroll around the shops in the arrival halls—always in the line of sight of one of the information displays. Not that anything changes. 

Listlessly you page through cheap romance novels, read a couple of headlines on the magazine rack and inspect small trinkets. There is a particularly unfortunate-looking plastic model of the Washington monument, leaning precariously forward like it’s in a tower of Pisa contest (you almost buy it because you feel so bad for it).

Unfortunately, that’s only 5 minutes gone.

You recheck your pockets for what must be the 348th time today. Phone, house keys, car keys. Chapstick, chewing gum, wallet. Everything is still there.

You walk past the flower stand, where big bouquets and bunches of roses in vibrant colors contrast starkly against the gray marble airport tiling. Aluminum balloons swing softly as people rush home. The smell of overpriced cheesy pastries wafts through the air.

You quickly stop by the bathroom—brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The bruise on your face has long disappeared.  You look fine. 

It’s too cold for the summer dress Bradley seems to favor, so you’ve opted for a wrap dress with longer sleeves that is more appropriate for the weather. You like to think that cut flatters you. You look good.

Slipping your hand back into the pockets of your coat, you slowly head back to the exit. Still no change on the display.

You repeat two more slow rounds around the shops, trying not to look like a total weirdo, when the display finally shows Bradley’s plane has landed. Faster than necessary, you leg it back to the exit, as if he could come out any minute. Yes, you know he still needs to make it off the plane, wait for his luggage, and then walk all the way where you are waiting but Bradley is here.

You’re about to burst with anticipation, hands clasped around your phone that you hold up to your chest because you don’t think you can stop fidgeting otherwise, and because it feels like your heart might leap straight out.

“waiting for luggage x” 

Bradley’s message is simple and to the point, but makes you feel like you might just float above the crowd in front of you and straight into his arms.

He is so close.

Every time the sliding doors open and people file out, you bounce onto your tiptoes to see that familiar head of caramel curls with that confidently easy-going gait and that cocky smile that makes you weak at the knees. Bradley knows exactly the effect he has on you, and you’ve decided to just own it.

 Fuck it, you’re in love.

And you know it’s mutual.

It’s like you’ve developed a sixth sense for Bradley. The moment the sliding doors open again, you feel him before you see him. He’s here.

Bradley’s stance is confident in his crisp khaki uniform as he steps out, not faltering for a second —but his eyes are scanning the crowd nervously. You stand rooted to the ground for one second before your brain jolts you into action: he’s looking for you.

Bradley’s heart is beating anxiously—where are you? — when, your voice rings out over all the noise around, clear as a bell.

“Bradley!”

You are weaving through the crowd, about 90 feet away, trying to get past the horde of people waiting as quickly and somewhat as politely as possible. He can see your shining eyes even from the distance: they are his beacon home.

Unceremoniously, he drops his bag on the floor, not really caring it’s in the middle of the path. He only has eyes for you now.

Finally, you break free from the line, running forward with your arms outstretched. Before you can take two steps, Bradley is running up to you.

You crash into each other, Bradley lifting you off your feet in one fell swoop. You wrap your legs around him, not really caring how the skirt of your dress is bunching up around your thighs. Your hands got to cradle Bradley’s face, lips inching close like you’re sharing a secret just between the two before you kiss him.

“Welcome home, lieutenant.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[note] aaaaand that it's for the main story. Almost. There is still an epilogue in the works where I'll try to tie up some of the leftover threads. Plus there's one side story that I'm particularly excited to write. Soon I'll probably take some time to thoroughly edit the story. I know for a fact some story elements fell a little to the wayside, and not everything works quite like I wanted it to (let alone that some sentences read like I've had a stroke half-way through).

Thank you for reading. Thank you for all the comments and encouragement. Thank you for helping me re-discover that writing can still be fun and it's okay to self-indulge. Ultimately, I hope my story brought you some joy!

[taglist] @ponyboys-sunsets | @thatchickwiththecamera | @littlewhiterose | @katieshook02 | @straightforwardly | @zazzysseoul | @rororo06 | @datingbtr | @notalxx | @fresh-new-yoik-watah | @gretagerwigsmuse  | @swthxrry | @joshkiskasbunion | @caelipartem | @blackbrownie | @yanak324 | @unluckymonaghan | @letusbewildflowers | @ticklish-leafy-plant | @alana4610 | @eg-dr3amer3 | @turningtoclown | @mell-bell | @mak-32 | @avis15 | @helplesslydevoted | @benhardysdrumstick | @chaoticversion | @cherrycola27 | @roosterschanelslut

[bold-writing]

The One With Whiskey Eyes || 21 || Weathered but Not Broken

Words: 3400 +

Warnings: None

Previous || Next

~21~

Iris cradled a coffee between her palms as she sat next to Felicia in the waiting area of the police station. The card that Montez had given to Barry the night before was tucked in her pocket, the officer himself momentarily busy. She had expected the wait, but her nerves were still rattled as she looked around at the other people waiting and the posters that lined the walls.

"Are you okay? You're white as snow," Felicia asked in concern, reaching out to gently stroke Iris's cheek. She had gotten some looks on their way to the station, but both women had studiously ignored them as they walked hand-in-hand along the sidewalk. Stopping briefly for coffee, Felicia had gotten a bewildered look from the barista when she gave her two female names to put on the cups.

Dressed in a dark winter pea-coat and dark skinny jeans that were tucked into ankle boots, she didn't look overly feminine to the average person that walked by. Her mannerisms and her voice, however, were distinctly that of a female. Iris had noticed how she'd shied away at times, tucking her head downward awkwardly to make herself less visible. That is when she'd grabbed her hand and had proudly walked down the street with her larger palm cradled in her hand—bare of gloves.

Iris didn't get the chance to respond before a familiar voice called from the front desk. "Miss. Mayfair?"

Iris turned from her soulmate to catch the eyes of Montez, who looked momentarily surprised at her pin-straight hair and eyes surrounded in red-gold colour. Felicia placed a comforting hand on her leg before Iris stood up, her coffee pressed to her chest as she walked over to meet with the officer from the previous night.

"You're looking much better, Miss. Mayfair. It's good to see," he offered kindly, smiling as he spoke.

"Thank you," Iris mumbled back shyly before her eyes fell on the folder that held her statement. He didn't wait a moment more before he opened the folder and placed her written confession on the table. Her writing was messier than usual, a testament to her shock as she attempted to write. "So I just need to sign at the bottom?" she asked quietly as she placed her coffee just to the side, freeing her hands.

"If you want, you can read it over and make changes. If you sign it, that means that this is final," he answered calmly while sliding the paper closer to her. Iris shook her head, knowing that she was careful enough to repeat each detail the night before as carefully as her muddled brain could. Montez placed a pen on the sheet for her to use, before he patiently waited as Iris picked it up with a much steadier hand and scrawled her loopy signature on the bottom.

"Is that all?"

"Yes, Ma'am, you're free to go. We may contact you in the near future if we have any more questions. I have your cell number, is it alright to use if I need to speak with you?"

"Yes, I always have it with me," she answered easily, reclaiming her coffee as he recollected the sheets. "Have a good day, Officer Montez," she added on with a small smile, happy to be leaving the station. He smiled back before his eyes shifted to look over her shoulder; Felicia had stood up and was waiting for Iris.

She watched his eyes flick down to her hand, where he had caught the flash of her mark on the back of her hand, before he smiled again and nodded to her. Nodding back, Iris turned and headed over to Felicia with a hand outstretched already. Taking her soulmate's hand, the two women slipped from the station without waiting another moment and turned in the direction of Iris's apartment.

"Anything you want to do while we both have the day off?" Felicia finally asked once they were on their way, glancing down at Iris as they dodged people on the sidewalk.

"Honestly? Not a clue," Iris admitted with a slight laugh in her voice. "But considering how cold it is out here, preferably something that's inside?" Felicia laughed as she nodded in agreement, glad that she had pulled on a warm, dark blue hat before they had left—Iris had complimented the colour as soon as she spotted it, saying that it would bring out her soulmates eyes beautifully.

Pretty soon, the two women had crowded themselves into Iris's small apartment with her little heater cranked up to warm the space. Felicia gushed about how small and cute it was, reading the spines of Iris's book collection, then her tea tins, and finally ended at her miniscule wardrobe. She tutted over the oversized, covering clothing but didn't actually say anything against her choice in style. Iris was almost certain that all of her soulmates, even the ones she had yet to meet, were most likely aware of the scars on her body and why she preferred to remain covered.

"You need to buy some colour!" Felicia commented finally, noticing that mostly everything Iris owned was either black or dark grey. "It's so…blah! And you're already my little Snow White, no need to make you look even paler."

Iris huffed a laugh from where she was sitting on her bed, legs crossed comfortably as she watched Felicia card through her small amount of clothes. "Snow White? That's a new one."

Felicia spun with a grin, one of Iris's oversized sweaters in hand. "Oh, my dear Snow, you're basically a walking Disney character. And you can sing! That's even better!""

Iris snorted a laugh, quickly covering her mouth when the sound registered. "If you start calling me Snow, I'm gunna call you Cinnamon." Remembering her first words to Felicia made her smile; it was something sweet and memorable. She felt that she needed to make up for some of the less than kind or sweet remarks that had been left on her soulmate's body thus far.

Felicia gasped comically as she took in the nickname. "Cinnamon? I love it!"

She bounced up on the bed then, nearly tipping Iris over from the exuberance of the action, but both women simply laughed at the action as Iris quickly caught herself with outstretched palms. "Does my closet pass your approval?" she asked after a moment, nodding her head toward the corner of dark clothing hung up meticulously on cheap hangers.

Felicia made a face while glancing between her soulmate and the closet. "We definitely gotta go shopping once it warms up; you need some colour in your life. But, for now, it'll have to do." Iris laughed again, rocking her body to the side to give Felicia a slight shove.

As silence fell between them, Felicia glanced at Iris as a question sat on the tip of her tongue. Iris had mentioned the light earlier that morning, so she was picking up on things they said when talking about the other alters in Kevin's body, but she wondered just how much Iris understood. She was a smart woman, so Felicia was almost certain she'd done her own research on the subject, but to ask one of them would provide her with the best answer to anything she didn't understand.

"So, Iris," she finally started, deciding that she would at least give her little soulmate the chance to ask. "I understand that the…situation with me and the others—Barry and BT, all that—can be kinda confusing, so I was wondering if there was anything you wanted to ask?" Iris's soft gaze turned to her, eyes widened with surprise. "I know there's some stuff out there that explains D.I.D, but I'd be happy to give you a first-person explanation if you want it."

"Really?" Iris asked after a small pause. "You wouldn't be…offended?"

"Because you don't know everything?" Felicia asked, appalled. "No! Iris, none of us expect you to have full knowledge about us. Even when compared to other people that have multiple personalities, we're a whole other story. No one else in the world has ever had so many alters in one body—at least not that has been recorded. And you're proof that we're all real. Every mark on your body proves that we're not just a…glitch in the brain."

Iris reached out and caught Felicia's hand, the action so fast it was as though she was flinching. "I never thought that," she was quick to assure. "I know you're all as real as me or another other living person. I never doubted that, and it makes me sick to think that other people don't believe you are." Shuffling around so she was facing Felicia, Iris lifted her free hand to stroke her cheek. "Our bond is nothing like another out there, and I love that."

Felicia smiled back, pleased to hear how Iris had fully accepted her bond with them, as strange as it may be.

Iris looked down at Felicia's hand, cradling it between her palms in her lap. "I'm learning, bit by bit, each time I meet a new soulmate. I tried to research D.I.D, but even Dr. Fletcher's research was…biased? It was scientific, not reality. I felt like it was dehumanizing the people that I had met, so I stopped trying to read about it and decided that I would…go with the flow?" she explained carefully, not quite sure how to phrase it.

"Is there anything you want to ask me?" Felicia offered again, calmly waiting for Iris as she closed her eyes in concentration. It looked like she was trying to decide on which question to ask. "Ask me anything, Iris," Felicia continued, turning her hand over to hold one of Iris's smaller ones. "Anything and everything, if that's what you want."

Opening her eyes to meet Felicia's soft blue gaze, she took a steadying breath before nodding along. "One thing I wondered about was if you are all aware of what happens with whoever is in the light? You mentioned earlier that Barry being in the light made it possible for everyone to feel my fear…"

"We don't see or hear what the other alter experiences when they're in the light," Felicia assured. "I could talk to the others right now; I could tease Barry-"

"Don't you dare!" Iris laughed, seeing the teasing grin that had lit Felicia's expression before she continued.

"I can talk to the others, but they don't experience what I see or hear or whatever. I can show them if I really wanted, but we don't do that very often. Since only some of us have met you, when those people are in the light the sensations from the soulmark are…amplified."

Iris nodded along as she listened to her explanation, her fingers tracing Felicia's hand mindlessly. "Can more than one of you be in the light at the same time?"

This time, Felicia hesitated. "Not exactly at the same time, but there's been times when some of the others have switched who uses the light at a speed that it makes it seem like they're sharing it. Like, they can have conversations aloud with each other. We don't usually do that, though, since we can converse without doing it."

Iris noticed that she had offered the explanation without any names, so she took Felicia's hesitation as being trying to avoid revealing names of soulmates that Iris hadn't met yet. The others didn't seem to care about slipping names into conversation, but that didn't mean everyone else was the same. Felicia probably didn't want to confuse Iris by bringing up people she hadn't met yet.

"Do you guys have a fixed…schedule?" Iris hesitated a bit more this time, worried that the question would come across rude.

Felicia, however, answered it easily and without a care. "Not really. For work there is, but that's just because not everyone can actually do maintenance. I'd probably get us fired, so…"

Iris laughed at Felicia's attempt to cheer her up, feeling the worry she carried steadily ease. Once she'd calmed down, she glanced over toward the kitchen. "So, what do you want for lunch? I can make us some soup, and a fresh coffee?"

"That sounds fantastic," Felicia agreed, glancing over toward the window where Iris's heater was humming away, warming them up. It had begun to snow again shortly after they'd reached her building, the two breathing a sigh of relief to have escaped the sudden return of the storm. Iris shuffled off the bed and slipped into her small kitchenette, pulling out a large pot and some cutting boards. Felicia slid to the edge of the bed as she carefully watched Iris's trained motions.

Living on her own, she'd developed a routine when it came to preparing her meals and was glad that Felicia stayed back and out of her way.

She started the coffee first, before she began the prep work for the soup as the coffee brewed loudly in the corner. Their conversation turned to lighter topics as Iris hustled from side to side of her tiny kitchen to the other, Felicia's eyes followed her avidly as she asked about her soulmates reading habits, preferred music or movies.

At one point, Iris admitted that she'd once cut her hair short in a pixie cut years back—Felicia had eyed her meticulously straightened hair and pursed her lips. The brunette had laughed at her soulmate's expression before she shook her head. "Don't worry, I know it looked terrible on me. I plan on keeping it long from now on."

Felicia sipped her coffee as Iris finished putting everything in the pot and left the soup to cook as she moved over to sit on the edge of her bed, next to Felicia, as she took her own hot coffee back in hand. "So, have you gone to school? Any of you?" Iris asked once she'd gotten comfortable.

Felicia shrugged. "Kinda. I mean, we've taken some courses that would give us some advantages, but we don't have a diploma or a degree. We all have such different hobbies and likes, it would cost a fortune for us to all take something that we wanted. So, we took courses that would give us a leg up for a job. Like a business and management course. You?"

Iris shook her head immediately. "I love to learn, but everything I pick up is self-taught—except for some music lessons I paid for to get my footing. I love reading and I usually pick up whatever I want to know from that. Books are my favourite, but I'll get the odd ebook or online resource if I need to. I was so shocked when my bosses hired me on as a manager. I mean, I'd been there for a while but I'm sure they had more educated people they could've hired."

Felicia smiled in assurance as she bumped her soulmate's leg with her own. "Sometimes experience is better; I mean I'd rather have someone that had already been working for a while than someone straight out of school with no actual experience. It's unfortunate, but true."

Nodding in agreement, Iris tucked the soft strands of her straightened hair back behind her ear. It was so much silkier and easily fell in her face once it was straightened.

"Want me to braid that back?" Felicia offered once she'd spotted Iris do the same thing for a third time. She'd been trying to keep it out of her face desperately while she'd been cooking, but that had been a necessary thing; now, it seemed like it was beginning to bother her. After all, it wasn't something she usually had to deal with.

Iris flushed at being caught. "Oh, no, that's okay! It's just my curls usually stay where I put them-"

Felicia scoffed before she took both of their cups and placed them aside. "Relax, honey, I won't take it personally. Besides, I need some practice with braiding! Turn around, and scoot over here."

Knowing it was futile to argue, Iris turned her back to Felicia and pushed all of her hair over her shoulders. It worked out well, since Felicia was a bit taller than her while they were sitting and enabled her to see the top of Iris's head.

Beginning to section the beginning of the French Braid, Iris found herself once more leaning back into the gentle touches against her scalp. It was blissful and relaxing, causing her skin to prickle with sensitivity. She'd never thought that something as simple as someone stroking their fingers through her hair and along her scalp, a barely-there caress, would cause such a powerful and immediate reaction. Felicia hummed at the soft strands of Iris's hair, never touched with heat or chemicals to make it brittle or unhealthy.

"I love your hair," she sighed wistfully, wishing that she had hair like her soulmates. "You know I'm going to enjoy long hair vicariously through you, hm? If I'm in the light that day, you've gotta let me do your hair."

Iris just hummed in agreement as she leaned her hair back against Felicia's dextrous fingers, getting a giggle in response before she returned her concentration to making the braid even and straight.

The small apartment was beginning to smell strongly of vegetables and broth, a mouth-watering smell that made Felicia realize it had been a while since she'd—they'd—eaten something home-cooked. Patricia would sometimes make nice, fresh meals, but she wasn't in the light often enough for all of them to get the chance to eat the wonderful food.

"I haven't even tried that soup yet and my mouth is already watering," she admitted after a couple quiet minutes of silence, Iris continuing so sigh contentedly as Felicia took longer than necessary to do her hair. She was passed the base of Iris's skull now, meaning that the remainder of the braid didn't give her the excuse to stroke Iris's scalp or run her fingers through the soft strands near the roots.

"We also haven't eaten yet," Iris tried to explain, sounding sleepy.

"That's not why," Felicia argued. "It smells fantastic! I could have just stuffed myself with chocolate and whatever else and I promise you, I'd still be drooling over that smell. And debating whether a bowl would make me pop or not and if it's worth it."

"I need to stir it," Iris mumbled tiredly, her eyes closed as she basked in the sensation of her hair being played with for a second time that day. She had many years depraved of physical contact to catch up on.

Felicia tied off Iris's hair and gently guided her soulmate to lie down. "I'll keep an eye on the soup. Why don't you take a nap?"

Whiskey eyes opened to look up at her, a protest already on her lips, but Felicia gave her a look and lifted a finger to her lips in a gesture of silence. "Uh-uh, rest. Even if you slept well last night, you've got some catching up to do. Sleep!"

Fighting a smile as she nodded in defeat, Iris rolled onto her side, tucking her legs up from where they'd been hanging off the bed. Felicia snatched the throw that was folded up and placed along the middle of the bed, shaking it out, before she draped it over Iris's already-dozing form. The brunette's eyelids barely fluttered at the sensation of the blanket covering her, her relaxed state aiding her in falling asleep that much faster.

Felicia crouched next to the bed's edge as she watched her soulmate's peaceful expression, a blissful smile on her face as she thought over the past several hours since she'd woken with her soulmate in her arms, cradled against her chest. Barry was one lucky bastard to have Iris's love, but Felicia couldn't bring herself to be jealous when she knew that—in their unique way—she was Iris's as well.

The small woman's heart was almost too big, especially for someone who'd been put through so much in her younger years.

Brushing her bangs aside, Felicia leaned in a pressed a ghost of a kiss against Iris's pale forehead before she stood up and went to manage the steaming soup.

Previous || Next

[justneedtofocus]

Okay. I’m not spiraling right now but I am processing. Amanda is coming to visit from 13 to 21. This is happening, her tickets are bought no refunds. In reality I should’ve told her no or to at least leave in the 18th but I didn’t and now I’m in this situation. I guess the plan today was summer planning but I didn’t realize it was gonna be Amanda planning and crying but here we are.

Here’s what else is happening:

13, we land at 11:15, come to my place, chill out (hopefully), maybe go to space needle.

14, pick up mom from airport go to celebrate nanas bday. Right now mom is making me feel guilty for asking Momi if Amanda can come over and telling me that I shouldn’t have let her visit this week knowing it was nana bday. So that feels super. On top of me needing to find places to stay the 14/15/16 so that Alex is okay. If Momi says I can’t bring Amanda then idfk what to do. Maybe leave her somewhere for the day then stay at Dylan’s? But is he okay with that?? I’m asking him then to host my friend for 3 freaking days that aren’t even on the weekend. He was totally fine with just the Friday night bless him but if I ask for three days I don’t think he’ll be the same?? I don’t wanna be in conflict with him too while I’m already in conflict with mom and Alex. I can’t stay at the ranch cuz they have a class and I need to stay at my place cuz of work.

Anyway, I think this is my breaking point of I’m going to move. Future Kala - either you find a new roommate who is less socially anxious than you/enjoys to decorate like you or something that means less compromising on both parties ends. OR you live alone. OR you live with Dylan.

15, I have no clue this day. Woodinville can’t do. Graham can’t do. Kianas on a weekday? Doesn’t make sense and there’s no space. Dylan’s? Would he be okay with that? Otherwise I have no clue unless we rent somewhere

On the 15&16 idk day plans. I’d like to do movie marathon but Alex doesn’t want Amanda at our place and I don’t have any other places so it’s an issue.

16, Dylan said yes to us staying the night there. I love him (do I? Different essay there) he’s awesome.

17, ren faire day then Alex said it’s okay for us back at my place

18, idk but last free day before working, apartment

19-20 I’m at work, Amanda is out, at my place

21 drive Amanda to airport for 6am flight

Anyway, I guess I’m waiting to hear from momi about the 14th. But idk what to do the 15th. Let’s wait.

So option 1:

13 (14,15,16) 17,18,19,20

Option 2, need to check in if works:

13 (14) 15 (16, 17) 18, 19, 20

If I can’t do momis, then maybe Dylan 14/15/16 or 15/16/17 if he’s okay with it?

So option 1 or Option 3:

13,14, (15,16,17) 18,19,20

[readingslover]

Chapter IV

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3

March 20, 2020

@/HannaGrace posted a video

Liked by Selenagomez and others

While we’re looking for things to do at home, I thought it’d be fun to share behind the scenes of my dad’s acting debut. 🎾

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March 21, 2020

We had to push our songwriting session a few days back, to today, due to Jack being unable to join. However, I did some writing without Jack on the things that Aaron sent me. Austin should be here any minute now so I get everything ready for the sessions.

Right when someone, I guess Austin, knocks on my door I hear my phone ringing. I pick up my phone while walking towards the door. When I open the door. I see Austin standing there. I put my finger on my lips to tell him to stay silent while I answer my phone. “Hey, Kirsten. How are you?”

“Hey, Hannah. I’m doing good. How are you? How is it in Australia with the pandemic?”

“I’m good and healthy. We are shutting down production due to someone testing positive.”

“I hope it picks up again soon. I called because I needed to tell you something. I had a call with the management earlier today… and we thought it would be for the best if we canceled your upcoming tour.”

“I… I don’t know what to say. Can’t we wait a few more weeks? You know the tour starts in June we are only in March maybe in May this could be over.”

“Hannah, I know you don’t like to disappoint your fans but it’s for the best. This way you let them see that you care about everybody’s health and if I can be honest I don’t think this will be over in June.”

“Can”t we just postpone the tour until next year?”

“We could do the US and Brazil dates, but the international dates I would cancel. We don’t know how it’ll be in other countries so it’s for the best.”

“Okay. I will release a statement this week.”

We say our goodbyes and I hang up. I turn around to Austin who’s now sitting on my couch next to my guitar. I look at him to see him looking at me with sympathy. “I don’t know how you feel right now, but from what I’ve heard I also think it’s for the best. I know how much you couldn’t wait to be on stage again, but it’s the safer option.”

“I know it’s the safer option, Aus. Doesn’t mean it hurts less. I just hope that I can tour next year.”

After that, we talk for a while before calling Jack and Aaron. In the hours that follow, we write lyrics, compose some melodies and just talk. After we are done I ask Austin if he wanted to stay for dinner, I am making a very simple pasta carbonara.

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@/HannahGrace posted on Instagram

Liked by HannahNation and others

I'm so sad I won't be able to see you guys in concert this year, but I know this is the right decision. Please, please stay healthy and safe. I'll see you on stage as soon as I can but right now what's important is committing to this quarantine, for the sake of all of us.

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March 30, 2020

We are now a few weeks further. Still isolated at home. Baz had sent us an e-mail to tell us that production will be pushed back at least 6 months. So until September. We could choose to fly back home or stay here in Australia. I decided to stay. It would be safer to not fly on a plane with hundreds of people who want to rush home as fast as they can.

During these past few weeks, Austin came over a lot. I know it isn’t safe, but being alone is driving me crazy, and apparently him too. We wrote further on some songs we started during the session with Jack and Aaron last week. I also went to his apartment a few times which is just one floor under mine.

One thing I also did this week was painting. I shipped over some stuff to entertain me and a painting set and a canvas were also in it. I painted a house with a river and a walk pad towards the house. I turned out better than I expected. When Austin saw it he literally asked me: “What can’t you do.” 

I also had a few calls with my mum and Selena. Sometimes Austin was with me when they called and they talked a few times over the phone with each other. Where Selena and Austin brought up him guest-starring on the Disney show Wizards Of Wavery Place. I did the same with Ashley when she called Austin when he was over. The first time I talked to her I couldn’t believe I was talking to THE Sharpay of the High School Musical trilogy. I think Austin could tell because he was just laughing when he hung up and saw my face. A few days later Austin told me that Ashley had the same reaction as me. 

The thing that I picked up on at Austin’s apartment was that he is starting to create a timeline with pictures of Elvis throughout the years on his wall. At first, I was taken aback but he explained, that it could help him better his Elvis impressions until we start filming again. 

Another thing that happened was that Austin asked me for another date. He called it a date-at-home. It went like this:

I was putting away my paint stuff while Austin inspected the painting I had just painted. 

“What can’t you do? I mean this is incredible for someone who is not taking lessons.”

“I guess I can do a lot of things.”

“You guess, or you know?”

“I know I pick up things really fast, but I didn’t think painting was something I would ever do.”

I walked over to where he was sitting on my sofa. I sit down and take a sip of my drink that was standing there since I started painting. Austin did the same before putting it down and turning to me.

“I want to have another date with you.”

“Austin, you know we can’t go anywhere. Everything is closed.”

“Yes, I know that. But I was thinking about a date-at-home kinda thing. Where we dress up. I come to pick you up. We go to my apartment and have dinner cooked by me.”

“I would love to do that, Austin.”

“Alright, then I will pick you up Monday at 6.”

After that, we just hung out. Did some exercises for his voice and wrote some songs.

So right now I am going through my closet trying to find something to wear that is chic and not too casual. I ordered some things online that arrived yesterday. I also texted Selena this morning when I woke up with my choices. We decided on a black longsleeved turtle neck with a skirt that is checkered and comes to my ankles. I keep my makeup to a minimal natural look.

A few minutes before 6 someone knocks on my door. It’s probably Austin to pick me up. I put on my heels before I open the door. When the door is open I see Austin standing there in a buttoned-up shirt and dress pants. He looks me up and down taking in what I’m wearing. “You look beautiful.” He says when his eyes meet mine. “Thank you. You polish up good.” I say when he holds his arm out for me to hook my hand in.

“If the shops were open I would buy you a bouquet of orchids and hydrangeas.” 

He memorized my favorite flowers. This is way too good to be true.

“Well maybe sometime in the future.”

He leads me towards the elevator and pushes on the button so the elevator comes.

“You know, I can perfectly do the stairs. Even in these heels.”

“I know, but I also know from my sister that even when you can do then after a while your feet will hurt as hell.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

When the elevator arrives we get in and stand in comfortable silence while going to his floor. The elevator doors open and we get out. He opens his door and lets me go in first.

Walking in I notice that there are no big lights on, just small table lights. In the middle of the table is a candle burning with on either side plates and cutlery. This really is a romantic date. “Austin, I love this,” I say when I turn to look at him. He visibly relaxes. “I hoped you would.”

He walks me to a chair and holds it out for me to sit in. Then he walks towards the kitchen where he gets a pot from the kitchen. He places it on the table and opens the lid. I’m immediately hit with the smell of spaghetti bolognese. “I hope a simple spaghetti is good for you?” Austin asks. “It’s perfect. It smells amazing.” I tell him while he fills my plate with the delicious-smelling meal.

During the dinner, we talked a lot. We talked more about our family and friends. And sometimes there were a few silent moments but not uncomfortable ones. We also drank a lot of wine. I think we are now halfway through our second bottle and have left the table for the couch. Austin is telling about working on the set with Ashley and how they both immediately clicked. I do have to admit, I’m listening but not really picking up on what he is saying. It could be because of the many glasses of wine that I had, but it could also be because I am unashamed staring at him. He probably thinks it’s me listening. How could I not stare? He looks so attractive in a suit. And his eyes are full of light when he talks about the things he loves. 

“You know, you can take a picture if you like to stare at me.” Austin gets me from my staring state. My eyes go wide open from embarrassment and Austin starts to laugh. It takes me a minute to recover from that. 

“I get it. I do look good.”

“Oh, you’re getting cocky now?”

“Well, I just caught you full-on staring at me for a couple of minutes without shame. It complements my ego.”

“Well try to look less graceful and then maybe I would actually focus on what you’re saying.”

“You think I look graceful?”

“You look every synonym of beautiful. So yeah, you look graceful, pretty, handsome, gorgeous, raveling, sparkling. I could go on if you’d like.” After I said that his cheeks flushed red. 

Oh god, are we flirting?

“Look who’s embarrassed now?”

“Nobody has ever used so many words to tell me I’m beautiful. Even if they are synonyms.”

“Well if something or someone looks beautiful I think you always have to say it to them. It could mean the world to them.”

“I have to say, Hannah. I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

After he says that we look at each other while staying silent. We are sitting so close to each other that I can feel Austin breathe.

While I continue staring into his ocean blue eyes. I notice him leaning in, so carefully. Like when he does it too fast I would run away. But truth be told I don’t think I want to run. When his lips almost touch mine I can hear him whisper: “I wanted to do this for a long time.”

And then he kisses me.

It’s a slow, passionate kiss that leaves me breathless. When our lips don’t touch anymore he opens his eyes and looks right in mine.

“You have no idea how long I wanted to do this.”

And he kisses me again with even more passion than the last one

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Chapter 5 (OIW)