#out of court he wears a t shirt that says something gross and in court he wears a button up in either beige or puke green pinstripes

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

Me writing my fic: and then he........... Would he reach under his shirt or unbutton his shirt

Realizing I have no idea what Ed is wearing: FUCK ME

I need yet another fit for a semi punk very rich GNC trans gay man going to divorce court and trying to seduce his lawyer but Also trying to seduce his ex husband's lawyer (much easier to do than the first thing)

You think you can get away with setting the tone for what they're wearing in the beginning and then never think about it again and then suddenly you have to describe the clothes on the floor smh

[authored-vanessa]

“We don’t have to do this…” she trailed off.

It wasn’t until hearing those words, that I realized I had been white knuckling the steering wheel since either the moment I’d put the car in park or afterwards.

“I need to be able to do this” I said more for myself than Emily. I knew the chances were slim that anything untoward would happen at the mall today. But, I also knew that to most people, I was a guy wearing a skirt and makeup and a t-shirt bra stuffed with tissues. To Emily though — I was just Jessie. Funny, smart, and a great kisser. Her words, not my own currently mortified ego.

“Jessie, nothing is going to happen.” Echoing my own thoughts was something Em managed to do since the moment I met her, but right now? It meant just a little bit more, like she was willing the universe to make that statement true. Letting out the biggest sigh, I pushed open the door, making sure to swing my legs together so as not to flash anyone. Em let out a tiny yay that helped me relax. We were two girls, queer girls admittedly with its own set of problems, going shopping at the mall on the weekend. Today couldn’t possibly be any more normal. Emily stood waiting looking towards the mall with her hand outstretched waiting for mine. Once we’d locked together, it was like I had donned armor, I was confident and safe finally.

We went from store to store, looking at and trying out clothing, makeup, shoes, clothing, and stopping for a bite at the food court too. We had a few stares, but only when we got too loud. We were walking out of JC Penny when I froze, Emily’s arm jerking from the abrupt resistance. There, across the walkway outside the Victoria’s Secret, was Jacob and Leiah! Jacob was looking too bored while Leiah examined a lacy pink thong. No one from school was supposed to be here! Emily followed my gaze and, facing me, blocked both of us from being easily recognizable.

“It’ll be ok, they’re just shopping, like we are.” I could barely process what she was saying, but it pulled me out of my freeze nonetheless. I caught sight of the two walking off and as nonchalantly as I could muster, pulled Emily the opposite direction. My heart threatened to make a scene by jumping straight clear of my throat. We were two towns over, why were they here? We needed to leave but they headed in the direction of where I parked the car, maybe we could —

Emily pulled me into a kiss. And I… and I… I…

“Whoa Leiah, look at those two chicks making out, pretty hot, right!” Jacob’s voice snapped me not just back to where I had been but through the roof of it. I felt too hot, too exposed, like a mouse being eyed by a cat with nowhere to run.

“Jacob” Leiah whined. “Don’t be so gross! C’mon we have better things t— wait, is that Emily Breacher and David Markos?”

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Emily had pulled from our kiss to urging me to just walk away and hopefully avoid confrontation.

“Oh shit that is D-dog” and I hated when he called me that! “The freak is wearing a skirt and makeup!”

At that, I bolted, sprinting past them, leaving Emily, Jacob, Leiah, and everything else behind. I ran and ran and ran, each new pair of eyes on me make it so much worse! I had to get away and fast. Before I knew it I was at my car, slamming the door. I hadn’t even noticed I was crying until I finished climbing into my little Camry. A new wave of guilt and pain blossomed in my chest, sobs causing me to shake. Freak flooded my mind, drowning out any other thoughts. I began to openly wail, sound making its way past the tightness in my throat, painful and raw.

I jumped, like actually jumped when Emily knocked on the passenger window. I unlocked the car and let her in and we sat there in silence for, who knows how long. When I finally managed to control myself enough to look at her, her reddened eyes and streaks on her face showed me she’d been crying too. I grabbed her hand, started the car, and drove off without any other words.

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

MINE

Pairings: Perv!Eddie munson x Fem!reader

Summary: Eddie watches you from afar at the mall

Warnings: just Eddie being a bit pervy and a stalker, and some swears.

Eddie stared at you from afar as he stood in the music shop, watching you as you grabbed your icecream off Steve and walked away.

He intensely admired you as you licked the icecream in the chocolate dipped cone, imagining things only God would disapprove of and Eddie would never say out loud.

Eddie soon felt his hands become hot and clammy from watching you so pervertedly.

Wiping his hands on his black jeans quickly, he strolled out of his hiding spot, behind the shlef of vinyls in the store.

He walked behind you from at least 10 meters, making sure your always in his line of sight so he knows where you are and not lose you in the overcrowded mall.

Eddie has always been infatuated by you, ever since you came to Hawkins in Eddie's first senior year. Although you've graduated and he's stuck in the school he calls hell.

Ever since home room on the first day, you were all he thought about other than Hellfire and many other things- when high on drugs.

Eddie followed you as you took the escalator towards the second floor, to the book store.

Going up the escalator, Eddie got a good view of your ass, that left little to the imagination from the short, white flowy skirt you were wearing. He could practically see your panties from where he was standing, and boy was Eddie loving every second.

But it wasn't just the skirt that did it for Eddie. The short QUEEN band t-shirt you wore hung low on your chest, leaving TOO much to the imagination as only an inch of cleavage showed from your boobs.

Eddie's thoughts were dirty and perverted. Consisting of what you would look like without the small clothes you had on and had your hair messily tied up for sinful reasons.

Eddie's thoughts and imagination wasn't always so...intrusive and dirty. It just started with the small sweet nothings like; she's beautiful, she's so nice, she's all I could ever want. To things like; I wonder what she's like in bed, I wonder how long she could go for, could she wear something smaller? Her tits look nice in that shirt, her ass is hanging out.

He didn't want to be so gross, but seeing you just set off something in his brain.

You brushed stray hairs out of your face and scanned the bookshelves, trying to find something that would suit your liking.

Eddie followed you from the other side of the tall bookshelf, admiring you from the little peep holes between the books stacked against each other tightly.

Eddie saw the way your face lit up from the sight of a book as you reached for it, running your finger agaisnt the hard spine of the book.

It looked so big in your small hands, he wondered how much bigger it would make him seem to be.

You looked at the blurb and made your final decision of buying it, so when you got to the counter, Eddie walked out of the store, a round the corner, waiting for you to come out and go somewhere else.

You walked out, strolling in Eddie's direction as you explored somewhere else, holding your bag with the book.

You saw as Eddie's eyes trailed you as you walked by.

Eddie was quick to divert his eyes away as you smiled at him politely. And he took it as a sign that he had a chance.

You didn't know it yet, but he was yours.

So as you walked to the food court, Eddie sat down at a table not too close to you, but close enough to see your facial expressions as you started to read your new book.

Eddie always knew how much you loved to read and how passionate you were to nature, that's what he loved about you the most, you cared so much about the little things that no body else seemed to care about. Like Him- many cared about drugs and sex these days, but you seemed as though you didn't even know what those two words meant, and Eddie dug that up.

--

It was getting late, no one was left in the food court but You and Eddie, and a few workers closing their shops. You had gotten up from your chair after reading your book.

So you were currently sitting on the Indiana Flyer, slowly moving up and down, clueless to a pair of eyes staring at you from a distance, you had used your last coin on it and you thought why not.

So now, your bags at your feet, you put your hands on the neck of the horse to steady yourself as it moved up and down.

All Eddie could think about in that moment was how he imagined himself being that horse, and that she was moving along with himself.

Eddie's mind wondered up in the clouds, he couldn't help but get hard at the thought as the music stopped and the horse just stopped.

He got up from his chair and almost ran to you as you were about to get off

"I have a coin" Eddie called out to you, making you jump.

Eddie than became worried

Were you grossed or weirded out that he was watching you?

"Oh um, thank you? I didn't know anybody else was here" you laughed at the weird encounter

"Yeah, not many people notice me" Eddie sighed

"Dont say that, I'm sure many people do, I mean you weren't mr. popular in senior year but who cares?" You smiled

You remembered him, you didn't know he repeated

"Mhm. I'm still not Mr. Popular in senior year"

"You- you're still in high school?" You asked dumbfounded

"Yup, I'll be out there soon though" Eddie chuckled.

After a long debate, you said you were too tired to keep going and wanted to go home, but Eddie let you keep the coin. There was no difference in losing or keeping it.

Eddie walked you out of the mall and to your car, sending you off before running to his van and driving behind you, following you home.

Eddie told himself it was for your safety, wanting to make sure you got home safely. But he knew it was because he wanted to know where you sleep at night, where you lay your head and dream about all the sweet things.

---

It had been 10 minutes since you went into your home, clueless to Eddie, who was outside your lawn, Trying to climb a tree to get a view to where he thinks- is your room.

He leaned forward to get a look, only to see you, In the bathroom, in the shower, naked

As much as Eddie wanted to look away for your privacy, his mind told him to stay, and look at you further.

Now this left nothing to the imagination. Everything was for show, and the show was for him.

You were made for him. He thought

You looked so peaceful and perfect.

And the water and steam hitting against your body looked so- heavenly. It was almost like one of Eddie's many dreams.

Eddie stared intently as you stepped out of the shower, that was now turned off.

You wrapped a small towel around you, that barely fit your body, going down to mid thigh and was tight as you squeezed your tits in.

you then walked into you room and got your clothes, and Eddie admired you as you bent down and grabbed your panties, gracefully sliding them up to your body and put on a loose shirt to make you comfortable.

Eddie noticed you didn't put any pants or shorts on as you climbed into your bed that looked so soft they could be clouds.

All Eddie wanted in that moment was to be in that bed with you, your head pushed against his chest as he ran his hands over your whole body, touching you in places that would made you weak.

All he wanted was to be with you.

To be yours.

"She's mine" Eddie whispered to himself, climbing back down the tree. Going back to his home where he would imagine you in the shower as he did things he wished you could do to him.

[sunflowerandco]

Act VI: Looking Back

Rating: T for language

previous acts on the link in my bio :)

Hey everyone. After my favorite combo meal of some good ol' depression™ and school, I'm back to writing! I really hope you enjoy and I'm very thankful for all of the support if you stuck around this long. Thank you so much ❤

I hope you enjoy this origin story for Duncney in this universe

5 years before Act V

Bridgette approached a very focused Courtney in the hall. "Hey, Court. Got any plans this weekend?"

She responded, her face still buried in the locker she was trying to organize before heading home for the weekend. "Studying, studying, and more studying. I've got two AP exams in two weeks and my livelihood depends on me getting good enough grades."

"Is there any chance you have one day to let yourself have some fun?"

Courtney pondered and knew her response wouldn't please her friend. Still, she delivered it with a smile. "No." She knew Bridgette's campaign for fun was coming any second now as she shut her locker.

“You’ve been studying all week, Courtney. Come to Wasaga with us! My step-dad lent me the beach house for the weekend.”

Courtney felt apprehensive at the idea of a day on the beach with Bridgette, Geoff and their insistent need to suck face most of the time. “No thanks. I don’t want to be your third wheel.”

“You won’t be! It won’t be just me and Geoff. He practically invited our lunch period. Plus, Duncan’s coming...”

“And that holds significance to my decision because...?”

“...Because you like him.”

“I do not! He’s annoying, has no regard for authority, and is so, totally gross. I don’t need you setting up dates for me. At least not another disaster like Bradley.”

“To be fair, you did have a crush on him.”

“That was before I knew he was a total jerk.”

“What matters is that you gave him a chance. Why not give Duncan one? I've seen the way you look at him.” Courtney gave her look, signaling her to quiet down in front of everyone else occupying the halls. Bridgette smiled triumphantly and shrugged her shoulders matter-of-factly, finally getting through to Courtney.

"See? I'm never wrong." Bridgette walked off presumably to find Geoff. "I'll pick you up at two."

"I didn't say yes!"

"Love you, too!"

***

Courtney could deal with sweaty teenagers in a crowded setting. She could deal with speakers blaring in her ears. But, she couldn't stand to see Bradley's face across the room before running to Bridgette.

"Why is Bradley here?!"

"I don't know! I know for a fact Geoff didn't invite him. He was the only person off limits."

She knew she'd have to spend the better half of her day avoiding Bradley.

Courtney stood in front of the bathroom mirror of the beach house, washing her hands and reapplying her lip balm. For one thing, she had to hide from the guy she wasted a month of her life on. On the other hand, she couldn't find him. Not that she cared. Oh, no, no, no. Not Courtney. She didn't come to this outing hoping she'd find him. And she would never admit that even to herself.

When she exited the washroom, she bumped into a brown-haired, blue polo-wearing dudebro practically standing in front of the door.

"Hey, Courtney. You know you can't avoid me forever."

"It doesn't hurt to try."

"Listen, I just wanted to talk."

"In order for that to happen, there'd have to be something to talk about."

"Well, there is. I want to start all over. You and me. I've got drafts coming up for university football. Having a girl on my arm would help with my image and, well, I figured you could benefit changing that uptight, boring image everyone has on you."

Courtney scoffed, feigning interest. "Wow. While that sounds incredibly tempting-" Courtney started off with sarcasm.

Bradley wasn't the most receptive to rejection, but still persisted. "I knew you'd see it my way. It would help the both of us."

Courtney rolled her eyes at his insistent need to cut her off at every chance she had to speak. Her eyes diverted from his and her eyes gravitated to the neon green hair she spotted across the room. He hadn't noticed her stare, but seeing him made a sense calm take over her mind.

"...I'm gonna have to pass. Don't come up to me again wasting my time. I don’t need to associate myself with an asshole like you."

She finally felt like he would leave her alone for the remainder of senior year after letting him hear it. Courtney knew that wasn't the answer he wanted from his displeased layer of expression on his face. She held her hand out with a smile.

"Pleasure doing business with you." He begrudgingly shook her hand to save face from possible onlookers.

***

Duncan, Geoff, and DJ were all engrossed in conversation when Duncan's attention rerouted in Courtney's direction. DJ's voice faded slowly out of the forefront. "...All I'm saying is if dude didn't want his underwear up the flagpole, he should stop leaving it around the locker room!"

"What is he doing here?" Duncan was covertly protective over Courtney in the aspect of terrible ex-boyfriends. His reaction to seeing her shake hands with him made Geoff and DJ turn in that direction.

"I don't know, man. I swear I didn't invite that joke. It seems like they're making up, so that's good." The can Duncan held warped in shape as his grip tightened.

It was no secret how Duncan felt about Bradley. He had to spend two months convincing people that pantsing him, throwing eggs at his car and TP'ing his house were all in the name of fun and not some way of avenging Courtney.

He didn't mean to avoid her after the fact, but it made controlling his emotions easier.

***

Courtney, fresh off of telling Bradley off, finally felt she was able to enjoy herself for the day. As the day transitioned into a darker, breezy evening, her introverted nature dwindled as she allowed herself to let go. Catching up with acquaintances from various classes, taking in the ocean views, and the overall atmosphere made her feel recharged in a rare feat. Still, it was hard to find Duncan while sticking to Bridgette's side. She'd hate to verbally admit she missed trading meaningless quips with him, and it was out of the ordinary for them to be in the same setting without exchanging any words. She separated from her friend when she wandered around several spaces of the house. Then, she heard him.

He was projecting his conversation loud enough for onlookers to hear what he said. "It's actually sad how many times and ways I had to reject that girl. Even today I had to tell her to stay away from me. I mean, why would I want to associate with her?" A few laughs could be heard from the same acquaintances she caught up with at his declarations of rejection all created by him.

Duncan decided he'd heard enough and approached him. "You better watch you say around here. Courtney's not around to defend herself, and I'm known for not using my words to solve problems."

"Oh? Is that bitch your piece of ass for the week?" Bradley immediately felt threatened at how much Duncan was fuming at him. Duncan swung a fist, but he moved out of the way quick enough to dodge the attack.

Geoff immediately came between the two of them to settle the tension. "Just get out of here, dude."

***

She heard every word of it. She didn't want to defend herself for once. Her mind just kept repeating to itself. You need to get out. She sat on the sand with her knees pulled to her chest. Courtney felt Duncan sit next to her without a greeting. She still spoke lowly to fill the silence between them. "What gives him the right to think he can do and say whatever he pleases like that?!"

"You're right. Let me let him have it, Princess."

"No, it's not worth it. He's not, at the very least. And you need to stop getting into trouble all the time."

At the time, Duncan's need for revenge couldn't be subdued. He'd let it go for now, but his mind wouldn't rest until he felt justice was served on that rich, entitled fuck. "It's not like anyone cares if I do. Everyone just wants to police me-"

"I do." She immediately retreated to the ocean's view after she blurted those two words out pretty angrily.

A silent moment passed between the two of them. His brain felt like mush hearing that and seeing the bright reflection of the moon on her skin. All of his previous thoughts were clouded leaving one subject clear. He quietly said the first thing that came to his mind. "You look beautiful."

Courtney had gotten used to Duncan calling her nicknames. They were mostly delivered backhanded in response to her insults. This time it was unprovoked. It blurred the lines between real and fake. She decided not to respond and change the subject instead. She crossed her arms in defense of the drop in temperature. "I want nothing more than to leave this stupid place."

"Here." He said as he peeled the t-shirt off his back. Courtney truly didn't mean to stare as the fabric became less and less attached to his torso. He handed it to her after noticing she shivered when the wind picked up speed. She looked away quicker than she wanted him to notice.

"As if I need another reason for people to look at me weirdly."

He knew she just reacted the way they're expected to treat each other, but it still upset him for reasons he couldn't decipher fast enough. She immediately noticed his face fall, instantly regretting her delivery. "I didn't really mean that. Thank you." She smoothed out the wrinkles after letting the shirt fall over her body.

He couldn't stay mad at her for long, especially when her regret was so apparent on her face. Duncan considered the embarrassment she faced, and figured she was trying to regain some normalcy in their relationship. "Don't worry about it. Let me take you home."

Courtney didn't object, following him through the sandy plains to his car. After finding a tank top in the trunk, he slipped it over his upper half. Duncan opened the door on the passenger side for Courtney to enter. Moments that didn't include bickering scared Courtney. it was an occurrence that gave her mind the opportunity to wonder what a prolonged version of this happenstance would result in. Her feelings floating to the surface of her deeply buried psyche.

***

He didn't mean to drive in radio silence, but Duncan was more nervous than he'd like to admit. He almost ran a red light when he noticed the newly-acquired tan the sun gave her soft, warm skin as she crossed her legs in the passenger seat. He slammed on the brakes just in time, still startling her. "Duncan! I didn't accept your offer with the expectation of dying in your car!" It wasn't the greatest question, but he was relieved she opened a window of conversation to flow between them.

"What was your expectation, then, Princess?"

"Delinquent-proof driving!"

"You know it wouldn't kill you to be...nice?"

"And ruin the amazing dynamic of our relationship? I wouldn't dare!"

"I don't want anything to be 'ruined' either. Nothing will stop me from annoying you, no matter what happens between us."

Courtney relinquished in relief. She then remembered the very moment her fear took over. Acknowledging it meant accepting the affect his words had on her. Accepting those indulgent stares and rare, shared smiles. Despite her fears, she asked. "If you don't want anything to change, why did you call me beautiful the way you did?"

Surprised by the indicative effect of his words, Duncan responded as if the answer were so obvious, still attentive to the road ahead of him. "Because you are...? Nothing's gonna change because of that. I've always thought you were. I'll stop if you want me to."

Courtney felt her heart triple in size when she boldly responded, letting herself say whatever her heart told her to. "Don't... stop?" She stammered, even changed the pace of her words as she fought off her nervousness. "I... don't want you to stop."

"Okay, beautiful." Courtney's chest radiated with warm waves as she looked out the window. She looked in the opposite direction and noticed one of his hands resting in the space between their seats. Her mind and heart wrestled back and forth between doing what truly called to her. To shut them up, she turned her attention to the road ahead. And, like some gravitational pull, her hand made it's way toward his free one. A swipe of the back of each other's hands was enough to: burn beneath the surface of their skin; Duncan immediately caught on to her intentions. He tried to stay focused on the road as they fumbled, palm to palm, and slowly interlocked their fingers with the other's one-by-one. The silence after realizing how perfectly they fit was easy, comfortable, yet deafening.

At a red light, Duncan used the hand on the steering wheel to turn the radio to any random station he saved. Neither of them knew the song, but wouldn't forget any lyric of it after this.

You can't stop us on the road to freedom

You can't stop us 'cause our eyes can see

Men with insight, men in granite

Knights in armor intent on chivalry

She's as sweet as Tupelo honey

She's an angel of the first degree

***

When he pulled up to her street and their hands pulled apart, Courtney felt hollow. Duncan's mind conjured ways to make the moment last longer. "I'll walk you to your door." Courtney didn't object once more, smiling at his reciprocated persistence.

"Okay." The path, while short and forward in leading them to the door, gave them time before the eventual goodbye they dreaded. Courtney fumbled with her keys hoping to buy more time. Fleeting, fickle, borrowed time for a moment they used to curse themselves for dreaming of. He initiated.

"So... see you on Monday?"

"Of course. Um...thanks. For everything."

"It's no problem, Courtney. Goodnight." He leaned in and Courtney's breathing wavered. Duncan gave her a quick peck on the cheek. Courtney's hand rose to her face in an attempt to calm the burning sensation he left. This would suffice for what he really wanted to do. If he was right about the impact he assumed he had, he was doing the right thing for now.

Courtney hated to see him walk further from her and toward the car. In some entranced state, her hand grabbed his wrist, pulling him in closer.

Maybe she leaned in the wrong way; she over-estimated the distance between them as their noses collided with each other's causing them to both groan in pain. Her ache quickly shifted to embarrassment as she hastily spilled out her rambled apologies. "I'm so-so sorry! Oh my God. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

Her rambling ceased when Duncan pulled her in once again, his lips crashing onto hers with a yearning force. Her lips quickly overlapped his as his fingers tangled themselves in her hair, her arms linking around his neck. They parted for air but remained still with their hands attached to the other.

He'd never done something so worth it, unaware of the events to come.

[before-we-get-started]

Dream Come True

Colin Shea x O/C Corinne MacAdam

Multi-Chapter Story - Complete

Summary: Colin Shea and his band Rock the Cradle are finally making it big - until something unexpected happens. When he meets a girl that makes him reconsider his player ways, he thinks his life may be coming together, until she blows it apart.

Warning: Bad language, smut, suicidal ideations - no one under 18, please

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please do not read if you are underage. I do not own the character of Colin Shea; the rest are my original characters. By reading beyond this point, you understand the disclaimers as posted.

Chapter Three

“Colin? Colin? You with me, man?”

He stirred, then became aware of intense pain in his back and neck. He let out a moan.

“There he is.”

He recognized Kevin’s voice. He slowly opened his eyes, his head pounding as he focused on the light. “What the hell?”

“It’s ok man, you’re gonna be ok. You scared the shit out of us.”

“Kevin!” Colin’s mom scolded him as she sat at the edge of his bed, holding his hand.

“Hi Honey, dad and I are here.”

“What happened?”

“We nailed the razzle dazzle but you got taken out,” said Kevin. “Landed on your head, which for you shouldn’t be that big of a deal, but it knocked you out. We lost you for a minute. Heart stopped and everything. Spencer got you back.”

Colin groaned. “Oh no, tell me he didn’t kiss me.”

“Look, when you’re dead, does it really matter? The guy saved your life. If mouth-to-mouth was involved, so be it.”

“Aah, gross!”

“Colin, for heaven’s sake, we’re just glad you’re still with us,” said his mom, smoothing the hair back from his forehead.

“You really did scare the shit out of us son,” said his dad, his mom slapping at dad’s hand for the profanity.

Their conversation was interrupted as a young nurse entered the room. “Mr. Shea, glad to have you back.”

Even severely concussed and in pain, Colin was on the prowl. “Are you here for my sponge bath? I can make everyone disappear,” he said with a crooked smile.

The nurse rolled her eyes. “We have a special nurse that takes care of those. I’ll have her paged. Her name is Agnes, she’s wonderful, been doing this for 50 years-“

Colin’s dad let out a belly laugh.

“That’s ok,” he said, all the cockiness gone. “I’ll just get some rest.”

“Right,” she said with a grin. She adjusted the IV bag on the stand next to his bed, wrote his vitals on the board for the next nurse and left the room.

Colin closed his eyes, then quickly opened them, springing up from the bed. He grabbed his throbbing head. “Dude, what time is it, we’re gonna be late!” He pulled the blanket away and tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed. Kevin stopped him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, lay back down. You’re not going anywhere.” His mother pulled the blanket back up to cover him.

“We’re gonna be late! We can’t miss this!” Colin said as he tried again to sit up.

“Colin, just lay down. We’re not going to be late. It’s ok.”

Colin laid his arm over his forehead and closed his eyes. “How long do we have? We’re supposed to be there at 6.”

Kevin chuckled at his bedside while he saw sadness in his mom’s eyes.

“What’s so funny?” said Colin.

“It’s Thursday. You lost three days, dude.”

He laid still for a second, considering what Kevin had said. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah. You’ve been out for three days. You took a hard hit. That Jordan dunk was worth it though, huh?”

Colin groaned. “No, no, no!” He rubbed his forehead and groaned again. “I can’t believe this. We’ll never get this chance again.”

“The producer said he’d try to get back with us but he was headed to L.A. for the next few months. He wished us luck. Look, all that matters is that you’re ok.”

His mother patted his hand. “Colin, it’s ok, just rest. The most important thing is that you’re ok and that you heal.”

“Damn,” Colin muttered under his breath. He’d been trying to gather his thoughts since waking up, everything still foggy. He remembered walking to the basketball court. He remembered their opponents asking for a best-of-3 game. He even remembered he was wearing his favorite Celtics t-shirt. And he remembered her.

“Kevin, were there any girls at the court? Watching the game?”

“Good Lord Colin, are you ever not thinking about girls?” said his dad.

“No, no, I just keep thinking about this girl. Chestnut hair, chocolate eyes, really sexy legs. Was she there watching us?”

“Nope,” said Kevin, popping the p. “No chocolate-eyed girls. In fact, no girls at all. A total sausage fest.” This earned Kevin one more smack from Colin’s mom.

Colin closed his eyes and rubbed them, sighing. His band had missed their shot and a beautiful brunette that he wasn’t sure existed was living rent-free in his brain. It was all too much.

“Alright man, I’m out of here. Glad you’re alive. The band would suck without a lead guitarist,” said Kevin.

“Good to know how much I mean to you,” said Colin, gripping his hand in their special handshake. “Thanks Kevin.”

Kevin walked out as Colin’s mom fluffed his pillow behind his head. All he could do was close his eyes and drift off, hoping to escape all the disappointment breaking his heart.

“You’re moving great, girlfriend.”

Cori grinned at her mother’s encouragement as she stepped out onto the patio. It had been three months since she’d stepped off the curb into the path of a cab. Fortunately the driver had been slowing already, so when he hit her, the impact could’ve been worse. As it was, the impact had caused her heart to stop. An ambulance two lanes over had responded and gotten her to the hospital in minutes, and they’d shocked her and brought her back. She’d broken an ankle and a wrist and suffered a severe concussion. She’d been unconscious for nearly a week. Her recovery had been steady, her parents welcoming her into her old room and nursing her back to health.

She sat down under the umbrella at the patio table, lifting her bad leg onto the ottoman. Her mother brought lemonade for them both, sitting down next to her.

“You look wonderful honey,” her mother said, covering her hand. “I’m so thankful you’ve recovered so well.” She stared down at the table, then raised her eyes to Cori.

“I think we need to talk.”

“Sure,” said Cori, sipping the lemonade.

“About that day, I mean.”

Cori swallowed hard. She knew this conversation was coming. “I don’t remember much,” she said.

“I don’t want to talk about what happened. I want to talk about why.” She patted Cori’s hand.

“Mom –“

“Corinne,” she said sternly. “The counselor said part of your healing is assessment and accountability.”

Cori rolled her eyes and her mother gently slapped her hand.

“You and I both know you were going through a lot when this happened. You had lost so much. Dad and I should’ve paid more attention. We should’ve seen the signs.” Her voice broke and she wiped at a tear on her cheek.

“Mom,” said Cori, leaning forward to comfort her. “Please. Look, I’ll admit I wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine before the accident. I was struggling with all of it. But Mom, I wouldn’t ever try to – you know –“

Her mom slid her chair closer and wrapped her arms around her. “Of course not, honey. We both know that despite everything, you have so much to live for.”

“I do,” she said, but the confidence was gone from her voice.

“Corinne. You have always been my happy child. You sang loudest in the choir, you were the cheerleader with the biggest smile, your pirouettes were full of energy – those other girls in dance couldn’t begin to turn the way you did. How many times have I walked in on you singing at the top of your lungs into your hair brush or heard you laughing like crazy at ‘Friends.’”

“Mom –“

“I’m just saying,” she continued, “you don’t need a guy to be your happiness. Sure, it’s wonderful to have companionship. But you are intelligent and fun and caring, sweet and loving. There is someone out there for you, and I’m sorry Matthew made you take a detour. But before you find the right one, you have to be sure you know who you are.”

Her mom was definitely starting to sound like the counselor. “Ma, you’re exactly right. I made the mistake of trusting two people with my happiness and they let me down. And despite everything, even though I’ve had these challenges, I know I have my whole life ahead of me and I’m ready to start this adventure again.”

Her mom looked at her, not completely buying what Cori was selling.

“Mom! I mean it! Look, what happened to me scared the absolute crap out of me. I know I’m lucky to have survived. But I did for a reason – there are obviously things I haven’t done yet.” Isn’t that what he told me before he kissed me?

Finally her mother smiled. “That’s the Cori I know and love,” she said softly. “You took several years off your dad’s and my lives kiddo. All we want is for you to be happy. We want you to have everything you want.” She squeezed Cori’s hand. “Promise me you’ll concentrate on being happy and having fun and not worry about what you think society expects from you.”

She let loose with another eye roll.

“Cori, seriously. You’ll find someone and marry when the time is right. I promise you you’ll know when you’ve found the right one.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Uh, spoken by the one who married her high school sweetheart,” she said with a smirk.

“Hey, I can’t help it if Mr. Right took me to my senior prom. But I sure knew he was the one,” she said with a wink.

“Did someone call my name?” Her dad walked out onto the patio, passing Cori a bottle of beer.

“Oh brother,” she said as her dad leaned down to kiss her mom’s cheek. She loved that they were still so much in love. Could there really be that type of romance out there for her somewhere?

“We were just discussing Cori’s fresh start,” said her mom, “and all she has to look forward to.”

“You’ve always been full of joy, Princess,” said her dad. “Your future’s so bright…”

“Don’t!” Cori groaned.

“You’re gonna need shades,” her mom and dad said in unison, laughing loudly at themselves.

“What’s so funny?” her sister asked, carrying out some snacks.

“NOT mom and dad,” said Cori, and they laughed even louder.

They munched and chatted and Cori felt a calm she hadn’t in some time. She was blessed with a loving family and all the support in the world. Even as she worked through the noises crowding her brain, she had the people she needed around her.

Listening to them talking, Cori closed her eyes. At some point she’d love to talk about what happened after the accident, but her memory was still so sketchy. She remembered taking the elevator down from her office, pressing herself up against the glass on the crowded sidewalk, even stopping on the corner and pushing the button to get the crossing light. But that’s where it ended. Her next memory was in the hospital, her mother stroking her hand and her father standing next to her bed.

She let out a sigh. She’d dodged a bullet, that was for sure. She was so lucky to be alive. She swore she could remember the feeling of being brought back to life, the power surging through her.

And then, as she remembered the feeling of electricity, the flash of a face – beautiful blue eyes, spiky blonde hair, firm biceps and pecs and a Celtics t-shirt. As quickly as the memory was there, it was gone. She guessed it must be someone she’d seen at the hospital, or maybe on the street before she was hit.

“What are you grinning about?” her mother said, interrupting the thought.

She smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know!”

She helped her mother clear their dishes and then packed up leftovers for her sister. After hugging her goodbye, she said good night to her parents and showered, covering her casts with a bag, then crawled into bed with a book. She finished only a few pages before sleep claimed her, the book sliding down the covers.

In her dreams, she could see the turquoise water so clearly. She was naturally drawn to it. The water was so blue and still, the sky golden. She’d almost made it but then he was there. Suddenly there were blue eyes and his lips were pressed to hers in a passionate kiss, a jolt of electricity stunning her body.

She jumped from under the covers, bracing herself with her good arm. She fully expected to see still water when she looked over the side of the bed, but it was just her bedroom.

Who was he? And why was he there? There was no mistaking that the kiss was delicious. She closed her eyes and hummed as she remembered it again. But where was she when she was kissing him? She hadn’t seen anyone since Matthew. There had been no one.

Those features were suddenly clear to her, the angled nose and chiseled jawline, with a few freckles across his high cheekbones. The thought of him took her breath away. She could remember the details but she couldn’t conjure the entire face. There was a silver chain, and a tattoo – were they words? – and Celtic green. As quickly as the memory was there, it was gone. The doctors had told her she may have snippets of memories from her entire life until the effects of the concussion healed. Wasn’t it her luck that she’d been kissed by a guy that was a figment of her imagination. It was a kiss for the ages, one she wouldn’t forget any time soon. She hoped thinking of it would give her courage as she stepped back into the world.

* * * *

“Here honey,” said Colin’s mom, adjusting the pillows behind his head on the couch. “Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?”

“Ma, thanks but I’m fine, I swear.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she said, straightening up things in the kitchen.

Colin was in a funk. Despite his doting mother and all her TLC, he was still down hard. For the last three months, he’d struggled to come to terms with what he’d lost. His dream of his band making it big was gone. It had taken weeks for his body to heal. He was moving better but there was still some pain. The horrible headache that was part of his severe concussion had finally lifted, but he was still in a fog.

The guys were getting restless, they wanted to start playing again. They’d been able to book some parties and a gig at one of their regular bars. He had two more weeks to get it together, make sure his guitar skills had returned to normal, and they’d start their quest again.

Only he just wasn’t feeling it. No matter how hard he tried, there was a gray cloud over his head. And then there was that girl. His memory was hazy, he tried so hard to remember her. Beautiful hair and eyes, with a sweet, heart-shaped mouth. And yet all he could remember was how sad she looked. She haunted his dreams every night and the memory would disappear. He didn’t know who she was or where she came from, or if she was even real. He only knew she was going to end it all if he hadn’t stopped her. How could someone so beautiful feel so sad that they didn’t want to exist anymore?

“Honey, you’re so deep in thought. Don’t you want to rest?”

“Ma, I really, really appreciate you taking care of me but I’m fine. Really.”

She sat down on the chair across from him and took a good look at him. “You look better,” she said. “And your appetite is back. All good signs.”

“So how about you go home and take care of dad for a while? I know he’s been missing you.”

She chuckled. “I’m not sure that’s true,” she said with a smile.

“Ok, well I know he’s missed your cooking,” he said.

“That is true,” she said, “and from the looks of his belly, he could afford to miss it for a

while.”

Colin laughed and his mother smiled at him. “That’s music to my ears,” she said. She walked over and sat on the edge of the couch, running her fingers over his hair. “You know, maybe you could think about bringing a nice girl home to us,” she said. “I could teach her how to cook all your favorites.”

“Ma-“

“I know, I know, you like to play the field. But really Colin, how about just finding a nice girl you can settle down with. And then you can start giving me grandbabies,” she said with a brilliant smile.’

“Come on Ma,” he said as she pinched his cheeks.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she said.

“Shoot,” said Colin.

“I’ll go home and leave you be, but you have to promise you won’t overdo it. And you’ll eat what I left you and not order any crap until you’re better.”

He laughed again and sat up, wrapping her up in a hug. “You’re the best Ma ever, you know that, right?”

“Well, that’s because you’re my baby boy.”

He blushed as she ruffled his hair. “Ok, I’m out of here. I love you,” she said, kissing his cheek. “And I’m glad you’re still around to eat my lasagna.”

“Me too,” he said.

She made her way out of his apartment and he stared up at the ceiling. He had to return to the living. He forced himself off the couch and fought the urge to return to bed, grabbing his guitar. It had always been his solace. When he felt his lowest, he’d simply pound out a song and his mood would instantly improve. He strummed slowly, but his heart wasn’t in it. He set it down and laid back on the couch, curling up under a blanket and covering his head with a pillow. As he closed his eyes, he hoped she’d once again be there, so clear and yet not even a true memory.

Tomorrow was a new day. He’d try joining the living again tomorrow.

[madroxed]

“YOU KNOW THAT YOUR BOOK IS UPSIDE DOWN, RIGHT?” [fic meme. SIMON/RAPHAEL, COLLEGE AU, ENEMIES TO LOVERS. for @hoechlder​. @ao3.]

+

“Okay,” Raphael Santiago’s saying, leaning back smoothly in his chair in a way that would absolutely have Simon unbalancing onto the floor, and offering his trademark smug smile at the poor girl across the table, “but madness as a trope has been at the base of the ghost story at least since Shakespeare…”

Simon tunes him out. It’s probably a really good point and he should be making notes, but he just….can’t. Raphael starts talking and Simon automatically switches off; it’s been that way since approximately nought point two seconds into their freshman year when Raphael had eyed Simon’s ironic Care Bears t-shirt with disgust and asked him if he wasn’t confusing college with elementary school.

Simon hates him.

+

“You don’t hate him,” Jace says later, when Simon’s finishing up rant number 1458 on why Raphael Santiago has been put on this earth specifically to torture him. Clary shoots Jace a sceptical look so Simon doesn’t have to. “He’s part of your college experience. Everyone needs a good nemesis.”

“Um,” Clary says, “who’s yours?”

“Your father,” Jace says, like it’s obvious. “I didn’t say it had to be another student. Izzy’s is the conservative dress code, and Alec’s is every obnoxious heterosexual couple he knows.”

“That’s us,” Clary tells Simon with a smile.

Jace salutes. “It’s worse because he has to spend all his time with us, but better because he can tell us to our face how gross we are.” He wipes away a fake tear. “He’ll look back on those memories fondly.”

“Okay, I get it. You guys get off on tormenting Alec,” Simon says, “but just so we’re clear, Raphael Santiago really is the worst.”

“We know, honey,” Clary says, patting his leg.

Simon feels very patronized.

+

Magnus decides that a Wednesday night is a totally reasonable time to throw a party, which is patently untrue but they all go anyway.

They lose Alec almost immediately, taking up his place at Magnus’ side as his boyfriend holds court, and Izzy disappears shortly after, followed by the eyes of roughly a million admirers Simon can’t fault for a second.

“You good?” Clary asks, and Simon waves a hand.

“Go. Find a corner to make out in. I’ll be fine.”

“Great, thanks,” Jace says, tugging Clary away before she can change her mind.

“You’re blocking the door,” a horribly familiar voice says, and Simon squeezes his eyes shut for a long moment before stepping aside.

“What are you doing here?” Simon asks before he can stop himself. He doesn’t care, he really doesn’t, except that he absolutely does and it’s going to drive him crazy for the rest of the night.

Raphael shoots him a look that says he knows exactly how Simon feels. “Unfortunately, I live here.”

“Uh,” Simon says, and wonders if he knew that. He’s ninety-percent sure he didn’t, in which case he and Alec are going to have a serious chat. “Since when?”

“Since the start of the year.” Raphael rolls his eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Magnus is technically my guardian. Was my guardian. Obviously that stopped being important when I turned eighteen, but the damage was done.”

“And by damage,” Simon says, “you mean emotions?”

He thinks Raphael may actually growl. It’s fascinating. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be studying? You looked a little lost in Monday’s seminar…”

“Wow,” Simon says, and wonders where the alcohol is, “A, not all of us feel the need to take over discussions. And B, fuck you.”

Raphael smirks, and Simon wants to scream. No one in the world is able to get under his skin this much, and that’s saying something considering he and Jace accidentally became friends in sophomore year.

“I’m walking away now,” Simon says, and ignores Raphael’s mocking laugh behind him.

+

Simon’s drunk. Very, very drunk. Possibly the most drunk he’s ever been.

“Nope,” Clary says, pointing her glass at him. Half of it sloshes over the rim. “Remember prom? We were wasted.”

“God,” Simon says, scrunching up his nose. “That was bad.”

“So bad,” Clary agrees. “Where’s the vodka?”

Simon passes her a bottle that, actually, may be tequila? Honestly at this point he’s not sure it matters.

“Did you know Raphael lives here?” he asks out of nowhere, and Clary gasps.

“No! Here here?”

“Yep!”

Clary blinks and drinks her tequila. “Wow. So weird. You should go say hi!”

Simon snorts. “I already did. Sort of.”

“Well go say it again,” Clary says, pushing ineffectively at his arm. “With sexy eyes or something.”

Simon’s brain shorts out. “…What? Why?”

Clary laughs. “Because you like him, doofus. You like like him. You want to kiss him and marry him and be shouty about…comic books and that show only you two watch forever.”

“You liar,” Simon says, because all of that is blatantly untrue. Clary has no idea what she’s talking about. Absolutely none. Simon hates Raphael. Hates his stupid smug smile and his expensive jackets and his perfect hair and the way he always makes Simon feel hot and awkward and like he’s the only person in the room.

“Oh shit,” he says, and Clary nods, patting him on the shoulder.

“S’ok,” she says.

“It really, really isn’t,” Simon says and snatches the bottle of tequila back.

+

It’s very possible he’s dying. Everything’s both very loud and very bright even though his eyes are definitely still closed, and it tastes like something’s died on his tongue.

“Fuck,” he croaks and rolls over only to crash promptly to the floor. “Fuck.”

When he finally manages to open his eyes, Raphael’s staring down at him, wearing a heavy brocade robe and holding a truly giant mug. “You okay down there?”

“Your couch sucks,” Simon says, and Raphael shrugs.

“Magnus chose it, blame him.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Simon asks, attempting to sit up and failing spectacularly.

“They, like normal house guests, went home when the party finished.”

“Ah,” Simon says. “And, uh, I…didn’t?”

Raphael frowns. “You don’t remember?”

“Nope,” Simon says with a wince. “Too much…I’m gonna guess tequila based on the throbbing behind my eyes.”

“…Right,” Raphael says, and if Simon didn’t know better he’d say he was upset. He’s probably just mad that Simon’s still there, taking up his couch on a Thursday morning and stopping him reading the entire works of Tolstoy or whatever it is Raphael does for fun.

“I’ll get out of your hair as soon as I can, you know, stand up without breaking something.”

Raphael sighs. “There’s coffee in the kitchen.”

+

The kitchen’s a disaster zone, bottles and empty cups everywhere, and Simon doesn’t want to know what he just stepped in. Still, the smell of fresh coffee manages to take away some of the edge and Simon goes through cupboards until he finds a mug almost as large of Raphael’s.

“So,” he says, when Raphael follows him as far as the doorframe, “did you, uh, need help cleaning up, or…?”

“You really don’t remember anything about last night?” Raphael says, ignoring the question, and Simon frowns.

“I mean, I remember getting here and you telling me you live here, and I remember Jace starting up a game of beer pong, but after that…nope, not really.”

“Do you remember the party Magnus threw for Isabelle’s birthday our freshman year?” Raphael asks, which is completely out of left field, wow.

“Sure,” Simon says carefully. “Not the specifics, but I remember it was a fun night.”

“So,” Raphael says, and Simon’s not so hungover he doesn’t recognize the danger in his tone, “you don’t remember finding me on the balcony and telling me that you, and I quote, found me ‘super hot, especially when I do that smug asshole thing.’?”

Simon blinks.

“And,” Raphael continues, “you don’t remember the fourth of July when you brought me melted ice-cream and told me you liked my voice? Or the time you kissed me in the garden at one of Isabelle’s stupid sorority parties?” He takes a step forward and Simon swallows nervously. “Or last night when you found me in my room and told me you wanted to marry me and have shouty arguments forever?”

“Um,” Simon says.

“I see,” Raphael says. “It was just the tequila, then.”

He turns to leave and Simon finally remember to actually do something.

“Wait,” he says, and Raphael pauses. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Raphael looks at him like he’s an idiot. Which…fair. “Because you didn’t.”

Which—

Fuck.

The thing is, well, okay, yeah. Simon’s had a crush on Raphael since he insulted his Care Bears t-shirt and proceeded to start an argument over the benefits of new media in literary studies. He knows this. Sure, he tries to keep it buried as far down in his own denial as he can, but it doesn’t help when he spends most of every shared seminar they have staring at the sharp jut of Raphael’s collarbone beneath his stupidly expensive button-downs.

It’s a thing.

He just…hadn’t known that maybe it was a shared thing.

“I woke up on the couch,” he says, which isn’t at all what he’d meant to come out of his mouth but at least it’s a full sentence.

“Obviously,” Raphael says. “You were wasted.”

“So I didn’t kiss you?”

The corner of Raphael’s mouth tilts up, just a little. “Oh, you did.”

“So you didn’t kiss me back?” Simon says, piecing events together slowly but surely.

“I never do,” Raphael says, and Simon frowns, feeling confused and a little hurt. “I always tell you to kiss me when you’re sober. You never do.”

Simon, it turns out, is the biggest idiot on the planet. Clearly college is wasted on him.

“Right,” he says, digging the last remnants of his bravery out from his pounding skull. “Right.”

It’s probably not super romantic that he steps in the wet patch again, but as first kisses goes it’s…well. It’s pretty fucking excellent, actually.

Right up until Raphael pulls away.

“God, you really need to brush your teeth.”

“Yeah,” Simon says, backing up awkwardly. “Yeah, I’ll just—”

“There’s spare toothbrushes under the sink,” Raphael says, rolling his eyes, but the flush on his cheeks gives him away.

“Be right back,” Simon says, and tries to remember where the bathroom is.

+

Raphael’s doing the leaning thing again. Simon wants to try it but he’s not going to risk crashing to the floor whilst they’re still in the honeymoon phase. Besides, he doesn’t think he’d look anywhere near as cool.

Raphael’s embroidered jacket is draped over the back of his chair and his shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, and Simon has no idea what conversation the professor’s just struck up.

Which isn’t too different from normal, really.

Raphael catches his eye and Simon’s heart does a truly embarrassing skippy thing in his chest.

“You know that your book is upside down, right?” Raphael says, smirk sliding into place, and Simon sighs.

He can always kiss it away later.

+

[for the au + trope + prompt game. send me one!]

[marvinswriting]

Coffee burns

Prompt(s): lmao this had prompts but i forgot about them and this fic went in another direction it turned into i love the gang lets write them

G/T mean girls

The co-sized mall- which wasn't very co-sized- was one of my least favorite places to be.  Each individual store had tiny areas with a small cashier and tiny workers and shit, but the mall itself had no form of tiny transportation or tiny recreation areas, like food courts or those random couches you just find to take a break. 

Northshore, like its high school, did not have many tinies. I could name everyone and their moms who live in the tiny neighborhood. 

It's no secret that I hate being in primarily giant places. I mean, I feel like I'd hate high school anyway, but anywhere other than Damian's house just makes me all around nervous.

Now put me in a crowded mall?

Yeah, I'll pass.

Except I didn't. 

Regina had somehow convinced the whole group that a trip to the mall would be fun. I didn't believe her, but the whole group was going so why not. 

We were currently at the food court. Regina was on Gretchen's shoulder eating a fry she stole from Karen. Probably the funniest visual of Regina I have to date. She broke off part of fry yet it was still half the size of her. 

Aaron was in his own conversation with Cady who had her elbows propped up on the table and was holding Aaron in her hands. 

Food court tables are nasty. You won't catch me (or any tiny with common sense) sitting on them. 

I was on Damian's shoulder only partly paying attention to his conversation with Karen. Too busy making faces at Regina to contribute to whatever was going on. 

Yeah, sometimes I can see why Aaron calls us 'literally children'. But hey, we aren't hurting anyone. 

"You sure you don't want food, Janis?" Damian asks. 

I look away from Regina. "Yeah, I'm not hungry."

Like every time I get nervous, the pit in my stomach prevents any appetite. I don't know why I was nervous. I think just being around so many people puts me in a constant state of anxiety, whether they're giants or not. 

"Jesus, Regina!" I watch as she finishes the fucking french fry.

"We don't talk about it." She says. "I already regret that decision."

I lean closer to Damain's neck with a smile. It's nice to have a group where, no matter where we hang out or at what time, it's always fun. 

"Guys," Aaron speaks up, grabbing all out attention. "Who's right. Me or Cady. We're sayin-"

"Cady." Damian and I say in unison.

"You don't even know what we're talking about yet!" 

"Yeah, but it's Cady." Regina says.

Aaron huffs. "Crazy."

Cady gives a good-natured chuckle and brings Aaron to sit on his shoulder. "Everyone done eating?"

There a chorus of yeahs from around the table. 

"Can we stop at forever 21?" Gretchen asks. "I know its not a store for all of us but there's a shirt I wanna get while it's still on sale but Regina needs to see it first."

Damian shrugs lightly but it's enough to make me tip a bit. I ignore Regina laughing at me.

"Doesn't matter to me." Karen says.

Cady waves her hand. "I don't mind."

"Cady's my ride. I gotta go where she goes." Aaron says.

I shrug. "Sure."

There aren't many tinies in high school, but they're also is a smaller group of giants. All people of all ages go to the mall, and most tinies avoided it like the plague. So the ratio of tinies to giants is even greater here. 

In high school, you only get in trouble for fucking with tinies when you're caught. In the mall, you only get in trouble for shoplifting or doing coke in the back of the JC Pennies while on a lunch break from your job at Spencer's.

True story.

The kid moved on to be a teacher in the next town over. He's got kids now.

The point I'm trying to get to is, even if the mall did accommodate more for tinies, I don't think we'd start going. It's dangerous. 

Damian wasn't wearing his jacket and I had nowhere to hide. I think that stressed me more than anything. 

Whatever it's fine.

Damian was wearing a sweatshirt. I was sitting pushed against his neck with the hood pulled over my legs for warmth. Its tits cold in the middle of December and the mall is fucking air-conditioned. Why? Who knows. Not me.

We walk past a trio of women I can only describe as "karens". Not our Karen. The shoulder haircut, let me speak to your manager type vibe. The gross karens. 

One of them eyes me and I can't help but pull Damian's hoodie further over me, the knot in my stomach is back.

"Young man?" She asks as Damian walks past.

For fucks sakes.

Damian turns to her, and I don't even need to look at his face to know he's unamused. We both kinda know what's coming.

"Are you aware of the tiny on your shoulder?"

"Yes. I am." He states flatly.

"Is it bothering you?"

It? Well, that's better than space dyke I guess.

"No, she's my friend." Damian states. "Why, is there an issue here?"

The rest of our friends have walked away without noticing Damian got stopped.

"How can you stand with tinies?" One of the ladies speaks up.

Wow. Rude.

I leaned against Damian's neck more, pulling the hoodie over me fully like a blanket. I wasn't offended, just bored. These ladies can go on for hours about how 'tinies don't deserve rights'. 

"How can you stand against them?" Damian retaliates. He begins walking away, ignoring the offended gawks he received.

I laugh a little, looking over his shoulder.

"You showed them." I cheer weakly.

"Sure did." Damian nods catching up to the group. They were still at the entrance to forever 21.

"Where did you guys go?" Cady asked. "We turn around and you're just gone!"

"Got stopped by annoying old ladies," Damian says with a dramatic eye roll.

"Don't fuck with Damian and his tiny!" I point to myself with a grin. "They called me an it."

"That's original." Aaron remarks. 

I watch as a soft smile passes Damian's face at the 'his tiny'. After we had the dreadful emotion talk, he was a lot more open to the idea that his tiny her tiny was not as self belittling as it seemed. When it came from a tiny of course.

"If I was their size, I could and would punch them." Regina said from Gretchen's shoulder.

"I dunno man, some of them were pretty short. I think you could." Damian smiled.

"Hell yeah!" I cheer.

"Well, now that mom friend and reckless are here, let's go see that shirt, Gretch." Regina says motioning further into the store.

Everyone follows Gretchen into the store. Even though we're only here for Gretchen a shirt caught Regina's eye that 'Cady would look so fucking hot in'. 

I'm still tucked carefully under Damian's hood, watching as Regina makes Gretchen and Cady try on the two shirts. Cady walks over to Damian holding out Aaron. "Can you?"

Damian grins. "Yeah, shoulder next to Janis?" He asks Aaron as Cady hands him off.

"I won't shove you like Regina!" I throw jazz hands and both boys laugh.

"Sure, shoulder."

Because I'm curled up so close to Damian's neck, Aaron can sit in the center without it feeling too crowded. We watch as Cady walks out first in a shirt.

Its pink, obviously, and loose. The pale pink brought out the constant rosey shades in Cady's cheeks. It shows some mid-drift and- Jesus christ I'm gay.

"Cute!" Damian says. I pull the hoodie up in a vain attempt to hide how hard I was blushing, 

Cady went back in to change as Gretchen came out. She was wearing a shirt. It was whatever.

As the two girls got up to pay I could feel the stressed feeling fade. I pushed Damian's hoodie off me a bit. Even as a barely co-sized mall, the fun nature of the group didn't leave. It was nice.

Cady walks over to retrieve Aaron. "What'd you think of the shirt, Janis?" She asks, scooping up Aaron wordlessly. 

"It- it was pretty," I say, trying to will my face from getting hot. "It looked cute on you. Nice color."

Damian chuckles and I elbow his neck slightly. 

Cady grins. "Thanks, Janis!"

"No problem." My face is red again.

It's so red she can tell oh god why am I like this why-

Cady gives one last smile before walking away to catch up with Gretchen and Karen. Damian does too but he stays a bit behind to talk with me.

"Smooth one, Janis."

"I didn't lie. It looks fucking good on her."

"And I'm the too gay to function one."

"I was functioning! Just poorly."

"Sure." Damian teases. 

I huff crossing my arms as a hand scoops me up.

"You know I love you." Damian says holding me to his chest as he weaves through a crowd. There's a lot of shoulder bumping and I'm glad to be here instead of up there. Or more likely on the floor. "What's going on?" He asks catching up to the group.

Gretchen shrugs, Regina in her hands. Both tinies seemed to be in a similar relocated-for-safety- position.

"The crowd came out of nowhere," Karen explained. 

It didn't seem like anyone was standing waiting for something, more like we just his a bit of traffic where too many people are all walking in different directions. 

We pull over and sit down on one of those charging phone stations with a couple of couches and a table. We're gonna wait for the crowd to pass.

Damian sets me gently on the table in front of the sofa and sits down. 

Aaron joins me on the table but Regina stays on Gretchen's shoulder with a huff after being told she isn't allowed to push me off.

We sit and talk for a while, waiting for the crowd to clear out when I see the old ladies from before approaching the area.

Great.

They were sporting coffee from the shitty vegan cafe next to the Starbucks. Pretty sure old cranky Karens are the only thing keeping the store open.

The way the seating area was laid out had two couches with a coffee table in the center. 

The 'karens' sat on the other sofa. While I didn't feel great about having my backs to them, I could see Damian and Cady both eyeing them nervously. 

"Um," A cranky and high pitched voice speaks up from behind me. "Maybe you shouldn't put your dirty tinies on the table."

And this is where possession became an issue.

"We don't own them," Damian said dully. 

Hell yeah, baby.

"They're also cleaner than most things on that table, including the table," Cady says, but both her and Damian lean forward in their seats a little anyway.

"Then where am I supposed to put my coffee?" Another voice whines.

"It's a big table, Miss," Damian says. "They don't take up much room."

"You're mother did a poor job in raising you, young man." One of the ladies speak.

You insult Sherry Hubbard one more time and I'll stab you with one of those plastic coffee mixers. As much as I wanna vocalize my opinion and get violent, I figure its best I left this one to Damian.

"My mother taught me the value of living beings. Tiny or not." Damian says calmly, but I can tell he's as pissed as I am.

There's shuffling behind me and a huge cup of coffee gets slammed down next to me.

I'm sorry, what?

Out of the huge fucking table, you chose half an inch away from me.

It's not even the worst part.

Scalding hot coffee splashes over the edge a bit, landing on my arm and steeping through my jacket.

I shake my arm, jumping back with a yell. 

"Janis!" Fear flashes in Damian's eyes as he reaches over and scoops me off the table. "What was that for?" He asked one of the ladies who looked very smug with themselves.

"All I did was place my coffee on the coffee table."

I bit my lip, slipping off my jacket despite all my inner protest to never take it off. The coffee drenched my entire sleeve and left it burning hot. My arm underneath the coat was red and splotchy. 

Aaron, who had been transported to Cady's shoulder the second this got violent, looked down at me and gasped.

It didn't hurt too bad, it just looked bad. It felt like sunburn, not blistering burns.

Damian looks down at me and I can see the fear in his eyes turn to anger.

"Do you even care that you hurt her?" 

The lady shrugged. "Not particularly, no."

"Yet if somebody spilt boiling hot coffee on a dog, you'd flip shit I assume." Cady said. There was an edge to her voice. Cady never cursed. She's gotta be pissed. 

"Somebody spilt coffee on a dog?" Our Karen asked with extreme worry.

"No. Somebody spilt boiling coffee on Janis." Gretchen explains.

"Janis, that's awful!" Karen throws a sympathetic look at me.

I give her a thumbs up knowing she can't hear me.

It hurts to move my arm. I poke it. The skin stays white in contrast to the red around it momentarily. Just like sunburn. 

It'll be worse tomorrow, for sure.

I tune back into the conversation after doing a quick harm check.

I don't think I've ever seen Cady chew somebody out so hard. It isn't long before the trio mysteriously has somewhere to be.

The walk away and Cady leans back into the sofa. "One thing I don't miss about Africa? Entitled Karens."

"They disrespect my name." Karen agreed. 

"You okay, Jan?" Damian asked, holding me up to eye level with him. 

His hands were laid pretty flat like he was scared if he touched me he'd hurt me.

"I'm fine," I say. "For now."

While I may hate high school, I do miss Regina being in charge. Since the whole gang kinda got more open about our friendship with eating lunch altogether or walking the halls with each other, people stopped bothering Damian and I. 

Regina George's friends are off-limits.

But the mall isn't high school. 

I lay backways in Damian's hands, looking at the ceiling.

"I remember why I don't come here often," I mumble.

Damian laughs, but the stress on his face doesn't ease.

"We should start heading home," Gretchen says. "It was a nice day, lets ditch before more shit goes wrong. You know our luck."

"Yeah," Cady laughs. "No kidding."

"The bad stuff always happens to me!" I groan.

I watch as Cady silently slips Aaron into the chest pocket on her flannel.

He fell asleep.

Lucky bitch.

"I want to take a nap." I say, turning on my side. The coffee burned arm is in the air.

"Sucks that Damian doesn't have his jacket." Regina teased as everyone gets up.

Damian grins. "Still have pockets though."

Damian shifts me onto one hand as he gets up, lowing me to his hoodie pocket.

I typically only go here post-panic attack or something, when I need to hide way but don't want to get claustrophobic with something as snug as the chest pocket. 

Still, I'm not complaining.

Damian's hand stays in the pocket, cupped gently around me. I lean further into his hand, without my jacket on I feel cold as fuck. His hands, as always, are warm and soft. 

His fingers curl around me protectively and I can't help but laugh softly. 

Leave to Damian to worry about me over even the little things.

Hot coffee is by far not the worst injury I’ve gotten over my years. But I could trip and fall on a flat surface or fall from someone's shoulders and Damian would get equally stressed about both of them.

I smelt like burnt black coffee but it was overpowered by the familiar comfort of Damian. 

Damian's thumb ran up and down my uninjured arm softly as he continued on with his day like there wasn't a tiny being in his pocket.

The conversation outside of the pocket was muffled. Occasionally Damian spoke up, clearer than the rest, but even his voice was hushed so I could fall asleep.

And to be honest? I wasn't hard to. 

Gretchen was right, we had a really fun day.

A little coffee burn can't change that.

Especially if it means my day ends with a nap.

And I'll probably get to stay at Damian's then, where I can see his mother, the wonderful lady who taught him about the value of lives, no matter what some old karen says. 

I wrap my arm around one of Damian's fingers as I let myself fall asleep.

i had so much fun writing this fic while yelling at bear about pocket content,,,,its not a g/t mg fic with out pocket time

@realmisspolarbear @musicallygt @smallsoysauce @sourishlemons

[mumblingsage]

More dreams!

Previously, the last time I had a dream about my girlfriend was the Tuesday his mom first showed me the death certificate. He was wearing the blue-pinstriped collared shirt that he looked very cute in but didn’t actually like much given he generally only wore it to show up in court (or that one time I ordered him to wear it when we went out for dinner). I seem to recall giving him good news about the legal business being resolved, and I definitely kissed him. But there was something vague and unsatisfying about the whole thing and the next day was pretty rough emotionally.

I mentioned having picked up the habit of talking out loud to Theriac. It is, in fact, super helpful to get my thoughts in order and feelings sorted out. I’ll never know for sure if he’s hearing me, but I’m hearing myself and that’s the main goal (I don’t have too much to say to him that he hadn’t already heard, anyway, except some new stuff that’s come up since his death and which wasn’t his problem when he was alive). 

Last night, my thoughts included the fact that I’d really like to hug him again, in a dream or a hallucination or poltergeist activity, didn’t much matter.

Maybe speaking it aloud primed my subconscious, but in any event “dream” it was. 

As usual the dream was a stew of different narratives--for instance, at one point I was stuck in an undergraduate course about fanfiction where our first  assignment was to create a 10-point rating scale that everyone in the class was in agreement on, whew, talk about nightmares--and the people who stand around talking outside my downtown window got mixed in, because in the dream I was lying in bed hearing people outside. One of them being my girlfriend. First I went out to see him and instead encountered my sister, which at least confirmed this was a kink event I was hearing (yeah, T was impressed my sis and I were both doms, too, and bless him but he never made any gross pervy comments about it either. Because he liked my sister well enough but found me way hotter.) Skip ahead a few dream events and people were outside again, and someone was inside with me trying to convince me there was a problem. Like, they thought Theriac being at an event with other people was him cheating on me. As with some of my other dreams there was this sense that he and I weren’t “supposed” to meet or see each other, and as in other dreams I said “Fuck that” and marched right out of the room to go see him.

I think this dream was more lucid than mine usually are, in that I was somewhat aware I was dreaming--an awareness that usually signals I’m about to wake up. I didn’t wake up for a while yet, though.

Of all things--my subconscious is an odd place--I found my girlfriend line dancing. I think his partner was a woman from one of my nonprofits who he worked with a bit when I had him volunteer for a thing. She was very nice and for all I know she’d be glad to line dance with him; certainly the link in my subconscious was fitting. I was a bit too intent to be courteous and I basically grabbed his arm and hauled him away from the dance. He went obediently. I threw my arms around him and kissed him. And I told him, re: the cheating rumor, something that echoed what he’d once told me when he initially negotiated nonmonogamy, encouraging and curious: “I have no problem with you doing  that, but please tell me all about it.”

(After I woke up I spent some time dwelling on whether this is a metaphor for ayahausca and MDMA usage--I’m not sure I’m bothered by him doing it so much as him keeping the fact from me. But in hindsight, if he’d told me in June that he was using that stuff, I would not have been blithely like “Well, at least you told me, I feel no concern at all anymore!” It’d be more like “Sweetheart, these are Schedule 1 substances and you’re on probation, what the fuck.” Anyway. Let’s we the living reform drug laws sometime soon.) 

Maybe what followed was him telling me all about it? We had a bit of an adventure/tour/the kind of wacky hijinks that usually happen in my dreams, except he was along with me for them (kind of like how he came along with me on errands I ran or just lazy days of hanging out). 

At one point I met his “soul group,” which is a New Age hippie reincarnation-adjacent concept I’m personally skeptical of but read about recently (because I’ve been reading a lot about death, go figure). Perhaps there’s also resonance with the found family he’d had in his life. They were cool people. I remember a cute plump woman in a purple shirt with wavy copper-colored hair, and a blond man with a beard and very nice lipstick and blue nail polish. Let’s be real, if Theriac does have a soul-family that guy is definitely on it. I admired his nail polish and thought my girlfriend should be wearing some too, so I looked at Theriac’s hands and low and behold, very cute pink nail polish was on them. (Interestingly, I’m not sure he was wearing the collar-bracelet I gave him in this dream. This might be fitting, as my subconscious seems to have decided he’s not wearing it now that he’s dead--maybe because the coroner took it off him and it’s now sitting with his urn on my shelf? It didn’t mean he wasn’t still my submissive, which I guess goes to prove what he’d once told me, that the leather bracelet was just a physical symbol of the real color which was invisible and eternal.) 

Then Theriac read aloud to us from his current project--which seemed to meld voice acting/narration and creative writing. It involved reading some of Lord of the Rings in a New Zealand accent. Huh, in hindsight that makes some sense; presumably we’d just let the extras in the movies be themselves? Anyway, in the dream it was a good accent, but I had that secondhand embarrassment I often feel when people randomly burst into accents that aren’t theirs in front of me. To a lesser extent than I usually do while awake, though, and I don’t think I let it interrupt his reading. His soul group companions were rapt and encouraging. The story Theriac read suddenly had an original cosmic horror intrusion with some tentacle beast invading a library. And I have to say, LOTR, accents, and cosmic horror stories are absolutely the creative expressions my girlfriend is undertaking if the afterlife includes creative undertakings. 

And then we had some zany dream hijink where some man was pretending to be a US senator and also pretending to be a robot mercenary assassin, hunting down some innocent guy he had an irrational vendetta against, and we were out to protect the guy and anyone else this strange man encountered. At one point this involved pretending we’d been shot by him and it was actually kind of silly fun, like when a kid points a Nerf gun at you and you swoon to the ground in dramatic fatality. So, um, my dead girlfriend had fun playing dead, for what that’s worth.

By this point the dream started to break apart and I was lucid enough to know I’d be waking up soon. And I remembered what I’d said about wanting to give him a hug in a dream, so I threw my arms around him and said “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Even after I woke up and put my sound machine back on--it was 2:40 am and people were outside talking, wow--I had sort of the reverse experience of lucidity that I’d had in my dream: I was aware I was awake, but my subconscious was still hyperactive. I posed some questions to it and got vivid images in response. I don’t remember a whole lot of them except the new condo/apartment I should look for has a flower garden with impressive hydrangeas (we’ll see). 

Also at one point, either before or after this dream (since I did go back to sleep), I had another one where I was doing writer and editor and nonprofit business and at one point showed some women I volunteered with pictures of Theriac. One of them said to me, “You know you’re going to see him again,” and I told her, “That is incredibly little comfort to me right now, since I have at least 60 years to live until then.” Plus that whole “agnostic” thing. (I know, I can ask my girlfriend to hug me in a dream, get hugged by him in a dream, and still be skeptical. Wow must the spirit world be frustrated/amused by me, if it exists.) But at least I *am* seeing him again in dreams--unusually lucid ones, too--and getting some hugs in. I am grateful for that. 

[yolo-contendre]

Billy Hargrove’s Clothes

Hi, I’m a sad cretin and have nothing to do but sip gin and catalogue each one of Billiam Hargroove’s outfits, scene by scene, throughout S2. Excellent possibility the gin will seize me half-way through this. STAY TUNED. (Also, I’m chucking half of this under a keep reading because, DISCLAIMER, it’s loonnggg). 

Ok, our first scene. 

We already know he wears boots. But did we know he wore black motorcycle boots with a big old pilgrim buckle? Probably not. They also have heels. The jeans are mid wash denim and boot cut. Which means we don’t know if this feckin’ dweeb wears socks. Since he’s so gross, I’m gonna place bets on no. 

Then there’s this: 

From the same scene. Billy’s wearing his denim jacket, which you’ll see a lot more of. Today, he has his earring hoop in. It appears to be silver. He’s wearing a white henley-styled shirt (notice the waffle pattern), his necklace, and his cigarettes stuffed into the left breast pocket of his jacket. Idk what brand of cigarettes he smokes. Someone tell me. Help. Something with red and blue? 

Next up: 

Here, Billy is rockin’ almost the same feckin’ outfit as above, but today he has on a wife beater, a denim snap shirt, and his trusty denim jacket. We can see the hoop too, just a little baby bit. The cigarette carton is red, and I believe, but don’t quote me on this, the blue part is electrical tape? The carton appears to have a red border around it. I searched way too long for old cigarette cartons on google, but didn’t find a design that looked close enough. 

Same scene. A reminder that Billy has a brown messenger bag! It looks pretty thin here because I doubt this boi carries around his textbooks or homework. There’s something yellow inside it, probably a binder. Today, his cuffs are undone on his denim jacket. You can also see his ring, which he wears A LOT.

 Now it’s Halloween. Oof bb. He brought a leather jacket out tonight. Probably treating the denim one to a nice night in. No shirt. His necklace appears to be gone? Actually, this is the first scene where he doesn’t have it, which is interesting. Why’d he take it off? Midwash jeans again, and a black belt. 

So. He’s wearing fingerless gloves here (WHAT IS HE DRESSED AS? WHO IS HE DRESSED AS?) and his jacket appears to have a pin on it, attached near the left breast. I couldn’t get a good enough look at it to see what it was. Diggin’ that diagonal pocket, Bills. Still no sign of the necklace. 

And we spot the necklace again. Very faintly in this burry grab. Billy is rocking the only pair of non-tennis shoes on the court. A pair of classic hightop Converse, which appear to be knockoffs, because they don’t have the star symbol. Maybe he didn’t have enough money for the real ones? They seem extremely worn in. The gym shorts are universal, but peeping out of them is a white band. I doubt those belong to a pair of boxers. Safe to say Billy probably wears briefs. At least in this scene. 

Another day, another denim jacket. Our boy really likes this jacket. In fact, I’m gonna say, in canon, it’s his favorite. Today he has those cuffs flipped up. We see the ring in full display. His watch, which is digital, is on his right hand. The necklace is back. The belt looks the same from the Halloween party. Honestly, every man I’ve ever known has always had exactly one belt and no more. I bet Billiam is the same. This is probably HIS belt. THE belt. Shirt isn’t tucked in. Annnnddd, unnamed cigarettes, hanging in his left breast pocket.   

Ok, ok, YES, he’s not wearing clothes here. Kill me. I just wanted to capture these bedroom eyes. Also, he’s wearing his necklace here too. SO. What the feck happened on Halloween? Why did he take it off? 

Denim jacket? Check. Nondescript black belt? Check. Midwash jeans? double check. Our boy is rockin’ his fav jacket today with a little twist. This shirt looks like an actual button shirt and NOT a snap shirt. AND. It’s tucked in. Also, looks like that cigarette carton still has the piece of blue tape on it (unless it’s part of the design). That could mean Billy doesn’t actually smoke as much as I think he does if he has the same carton a few days later. So he might not actually be a chain smoker like I’ve been writing him. 

OKAY. OKAY. We have a NEW leather jacket out to play. This looks like a weathered leather bomber jacket my grandpa gave my Mom sometime in the 80s. Also lovin’ Billy’s aviators here. He’s wearing a red crew neck shirt and his necklace in this scene. 

Up close of the aviators from the same scene. You can also see here that the shirt really comes up high. Is that still considered crew cut? 

Literally. What is in the fucking background? BILLY. What are you watching? Is it an exercise tape?? What is it?? Okay, so here we got a nice shot of his sweaty, shiny arms in a cut up T-shirt. GAWD. I love the idea of Bills sitting down on his bedroom floor and cutting off the sleeves of his old shirts. Maybe he’s listening to music and watching himself in the mirror. 

Bad quality screen grab, but I wanted to see what his bottoms were. They look, from here, like nondescript basketball shorts. Love the above the knee action, Bills. Of course, he has his knock-off chucks on, and a pair of tube socks. Also, for anyone who wants to know, the Hargrove address is officially 5280 Old Cherry Street. 

Our final scene. THE red snap shirt, which has a white pattern on it. Unbuttoned 4 buttons officially. He’s got his dagger earring in here. 

Billy shrugging into what I presume is the same leather jacket from before. It looks exactly like my Mom’s bomber. 

OOOOOOOHHHHHHH yeah. So, there’s like WAY more than four buttons undone here. Did he undo the rest just for Steve? He’s wearing his ring. He’s wearing his watch. The jacket came off because it’s fightin’ time. The same wash of jeans as previous scenes. I am actually convinced, after doing this, that Billy has exactly one pair of jeans. MAX two. MAX. 

Alright, the gin is gripping me. Hope you enjoyed a meandering walk through Billiam Hargroove’s wardrobe. I’ve come to the conclusion that his favorite jacket is the denim one. He probably only owns like 15 clothing items max, and they all appear to be different solid colored shirts. He has one pair of jeans. Two different pairs of earrings. And two different leather jackets. He is canonically a walking dumpster fire. But, like, a really sexy walking dumpster fire. 

[walkerismychoice]

Stripped Bare - Chapter 8 (Bryce X MC AU)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce X MC (Charlie Hawkins)

Summary: The first full day of wedding activities continues while Charlie and Bryce’s “fake” relationship gets more and more convincing.

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2441

Kyra fans out the skirt of her bridesmaid dress as she looks in the three panel mirror at the back of the boutique. “These dresses aren’t as bad as I expected. I mean the seafoam green color is a bit on the nose for a beach wedding, but I would have thought she’d choose something hideous for all of us just so she would look that much better.”

“But that would ruin her aesthetic.” Charlie puts a hand to her chest and gasps in mock horror. “Katelyn would never!” Both she and Kyra devolve into a fit of laughter. 

The group had split apart after tennis - and showers thank god -  to get fitted for their dresses and tuxes respectively, while the lucky non-wedding party significant others got a few minutes to relax and breathe. Katelyn had required the bridesmaids to try on dresses at the bridal shop back in Connecticut and then have them ordered and shipped to the the resort boutique because she’s that much of a bridezilla control freak.

Katelyn walks back from the front of the store, where she had been seated with the Sarahs drinking mimosas, and studies both of them scrupulously. “Looks like yours fits pretty well Kyra. My color options were limited with your red hair and pale skin, but I think this shade of green works quite well on you Charlie. However...” Katelyn motions for the seamstress to come over. “Do you think we need to let this out in the bust? She must have gained a few pounds since we tried this size on in the bridal boutique.” 

"Or maybe the sample size was not cut exactly the same as this one." Charlie knows she's not a size two like she used to be in high school when she would stress about everything she put in her mouth, but a size eight is nowhere near overweight. Still, she's not always comfortable with her newfound curves, and it stings to hear that comment from Katelyn.

"No, no, no." Mary the seamstress insists. 'You are a beautiful, voluptuous woman. You fill the dress out very nicely."

"I agree with Mary," Kyra adds. "You boobs look fucking amazing in that dress."

"Kyra!" Katelyn scolds while Charlie blushes. "Well I guess it is what it is. Just make sure you wear a good bra.

"Noted," Charlie murmurs under her breath and disappears back into the dressing room. She sits on the bench seat, taking a deep breath, and she doesn't know why, but her first instinct is to text Bryce about how awful Katelyn has been. She shakes off the thought, but then she hears her phone buzz in her purse and almost can't believe her eyes when she sees a text from Bryce:

Since it's been like ninety minutes since you've seen me shirtless, and you're stuck with Katelyn, I thought you might need a pick me up.

The text was accompanied by a full length mirror selfie of Bryce in only athletic shorts, clearly post workout.

Bold of you to assume that will make me feel better. She types back. It doesn't hurt, but she's not going to admit that. Looks like you can't  even go two hours without talking to me. You miss me that bad?" She hits send and immediately regrets it, but moments later she gets another text:

Maybe...

Charlie doesn't even know what to do with that, so she puts her phone away, but not before taking another look at the picture of Bryce, shirtless and glistening with sweat. Normally she would think a guy sending her a picture like that was gross, but not with him. Bryce literally looks good anytime, anywhere, no matter what he is or isn't wearing, and life just isn't fair.

Charlie puts her floral sundress back on, and checks herself out the mirror. Her cheeks are still burning bright, and she needs to get ahold of herself. She’s guessing Bryce was just trying to get a reaction out of her, and if so, mission accomplished. He doesn’t even have to be in her presence to get her all flustered. Charlie fans her face and inhales deeply before joining the other ladies. 

The rest of the day passes fairly quickly. The women eat a late lunch together and Kyra and Charlie mostly keep to themselves while Katelyn and the Sarahs are so engrossed in their own conversation, they hardly notice. Then the whole group meets up for a glass bottom boat tour which is fun, but a bit crowded and noisy with all of them on one boat. Charlie gets some great pictures of sealife and selects one for Instagram. Bryce then insists they get a take a selfie of themselves to post. Charlie wonders why when everyone they are trying to convince is right there with them, but there’s no way she’s going to question it in front of everyone, so she does as he requests. Bryce squeezes his arm around her and presses his cheek to hers before snapping the picture. Charlie checks out the post after it uploads. They both looks so happy, and it seems so...real. They always say it’s not fair to look at other people’s social media and compare yourself because they only show what they want you to see, and she’s living proof. She looks like she’s having a great time in paradise with her gorgeous boyfriend, but it's all a lie, isn’t it?

The boat drops them off at the resort, and they head straight to dinner and eat oceanside at Seagrape Terrace. The sun is starting to set and a gentle breeze wafts in from over the water. Each table is set for six, and the thankfully there’s no assigned seating tonight. Unfortunately, she still ends up at the same table as Katelyn and Landry, and although Kyra is also there to help keep her sane, Bob is as well by default since everyone else is paired off. With Charlie seated between Bryce and Kyra, Landry next to Bob so they can chat about their glory days in undergrad or whatever, the only spot left for Katelyn is next to Bryce.

Katelyn takes a sip of her wine. “So Bryce, you really showed nice form on the court today. What club do you belong to? They must have incredible tennis pros there”.

Charlie nervously pushes a stray piece of lettuce around on her salad plate, unsure of how Bryce will answer.

Bryce swallows the bite of food in his mouth. “I’m kind of between clubs right now. My family isn’t from the East Coast, and I’ve been so busy with medical school I haven’t had much time. You know how it is, Landry.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’ve hardly had a chance to visit my club the past few years.”

“So is that your excuse for your poor showing today?” Katelyn huffs.

“Muffin, I think it’s safe to say we could have both played better today. Maybe if you hadn’t been so distracted...”

Charlie quickly grabs the bread basket from the middle of the table. “Did everyone get some bread? There’s a few pieces left.”

Neither Katelyn or Landry answers, but at least they stop bickering.

“I’ll take another if no one else is going to have one.” Bryce reaches in and selects a piece. “You know I’ll never turn down your buns, Honey.” He smirks at Charlie.

“Very funny, Sweetie.” Charlie gives him a look out of the corner of her eye and he just chuckles.

The food comes and Charlie’s salmon is flaky and delicious. There’s just something about eating seafood at the ocean that makes it taste that much better. Charlie has two glasses of wine, already breaking her self-imposed no more drinking rule, but two glasses of wine on a full stomach is very much manageable. She thinks its incidental the first time Bryce’s outer thigh brushes against hers, but then it happens again and again. As dinner goes on Bryce seems to drift closer to Charlie, but it’s possible he’s just trying to get as far away as possible from Katelyn.

Dinner starts to wind down, and Bryce stands up and offers a hand to Charlie. “Would you like to take a walk My Dear?”

“Sure..” Charlie accepts Bryce’s hand and excuses herself from the table. She’s not certain of his motives, but she’s had more than enough of Katelyn for one day, so she'll take any excuse to escape. Bryce laces his fingers through hers and gives her hand a squeeze as they walk away.

Once out of earshot, Charlie questions Bryce. “Honey? My Dea? What’s with all the cutesy nicknames? I don’t think you have to lay it on that thick.”

“I believe I heard you call me Sweetie, Sugarlips.”

“Oh my god, Bryce.” Charlie playfully nudges her shoulder into his. “There’s noone to hear us now, so you can stop that nonsense.”

“Just trying them out.”

“Trying them out for what?”

Bryce shrugs. “Just in case.”

In case what? Charlie wonders. “Well if you call me Sugarlips in front of anyone else, I’m putting you on the first plane home.

Bryce laughs. “No Sugarlips. Got it. At least it’s better than Muffin.”

“Heh. They are the worst in every possible way, aren’t they?” Charlie looks up at Bryce, and his features are so striking in the moonlight, as if they aren’t also in every other light. She sighs inaudibly because she’s finally admitting to herself she’s starting to fall for him, even though it’s the last thing she should do.

Bryce leads her down a long pier with a gazebo at the end overlooking the water. It’s so peaceful and serene, that even though they are still in view of the group back at the restaurant, it feels like they are the only two around.

Bryce looks back at the others and then spins himself and Charlie around so his back is facing the crowd. “We have an audience. Should we give them a show?”

Charlie swallows hard. “Um, like what?”

Bryce weave his fingers through Charlie’s hair and presses his body close enough to hers she can feel the heat radiating off of him. “Wrap your arms around me.”  She does as instructed, sliding her hands up his back and feeling the contour of his taut muscles through the light cotton fabric of his button down shirt. He leans in close until their lips are a breath apart. She closes her eyes, waiting for what comes next, until she feels his forehead rest against hers.”There. They’ll definitely assume we are making out now.”

Charlie prays Bryce can’t hear how fast her heart is beating in her chest right now. And god, she hopes he doesn’t know she thought he was going to kiss her, and how much she actually wanted it. “Perfect.” She tries not sound disappointed. There’s a look in Bryce’s eyes Charlie can’t quite read. Sometimes it seems like he’s trying to test her, but she has no clue what he’s looking for and if she’s passing or failing. They remain that way for an indiscernible amount of time, until it feels like it’s been convincingly long enough, and Charlie yawns. ”I think I’m done for the day. You ready?”

Bryce places a hand on the small of Charlie’s back. “Lead the way.”

~~~

Charlie is exhausted by the time they get back to their hotel room, but at least tonight she’s sober enough to get ready for bed her self. She groans and gets embarrassed all over again just thinking about it. She settles into bed and flips the TV on until her eyelids get heavy.  She just about out when a loud creaking noise jolts her wide awake. Uncertain about what she just heard, she waits and the squeaking and creaking noises continue on the other side of the wall, until at last there’s a big, metallic thump and she rushes out in the living room to see what’s going on.

Bryce looks up from laying out his bedding on the now folded up sofa sleeper. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Almost...what’s going on?”

“I told you how terrible this thing is to sleep on. I couldn’t stop tossing and turning, so I decided I might fare better on just the sofa part.”

“Bryce, let me sleep out here, and you take my bed.” Charlie insists. “Then one of us can get good sleep every other night at least.”

“Nah,” Bryce waves her off. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable at my expense.”

Charlie sighs deeply. “Fine if you are going to insist on being so stubbornly chivalrous, then why don’t we just share the bed?”

“What did you just say?” Bryce asks and Charlie thinks he just wants to make her say it again.

“It’s a king size bed. There’s plenty of space.”

A mischievous smiles creeps up on Bryce’s lips. “Any excuse to get me into bed with you, huh?”

Charlie picks up a pillow and chucks it at Bryce. “Just shut up and get in there before I take back my offer.”

Charlie climbs into the right side of the bed and keeps all the way to the edge to avoid any incidental touching. This had seemed like a better idea before it was actually happening. Maybe if she wasn’t interested in Bryce this would be no big deal, but she’s acutely aware of how close he is, clad only in his boxer briefs. What if she rolls over and cuddles him in her sleep? What if she drools on him again? What if he wakes up hard? She can’t get that last image out of her brain and she’s thankful for the darkness covering up the color in her cheeks.

“You know, if you move any further away, you’re going to fall right onto the floor. You don’t have to worry about me encroaching on your side.” Bryce pats the middle of the bed. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Well, you might have to worry about me. I’m kind of a wild sleeper. You could wake up with me on top of you.”

Bryce chuckles. “I think I could handle that.”

Well I couldn’t. There’s something about Bryce’s tone of voice that gets her all worked up again, her entire body flush with heat, and he probably knows exactly what he’s doing to her. Despite her reservations, she moves a bit closer to the middle of the bed, but makes a point of putting her long body pillow as a barrier. “For my own peace of mind.”

Bryce laughs as he turns on his side. “Whatever makes you happy.”

[btgalaxy]

Felicity

➳ pairing: jimin x reader

➳ genre: fluff

➳ word count: 1.6k

Masterlist

“Case dismissed.” The judge slams down the gavel against his desk and you let out a frustrated sigh. Yet another case you’ve lost. Your hand pinches the bridge of your nose as you watch the jury standing up to leave after reaching their final judgement for the day. As a human rights lawyer, your reputation lies amongst your number of defeats and, as it stands, that number is becoming unfortunately high.

You leave the courthouse pretty abruptly, needing some air. You place your briefcase against a pillar outside and take out your phone to text the head of your firm the bad news. Just as you send off the text, you get another come through, this one from your fiancée, Jimin.

Jimin: how did court go?

Your shoulders drop slightly in disappointment. He idolises you, you swear, despite your recent failures he still continues to support you relentlessly. It’s saddening at times that the both of you are so busy; you with work and him with concerts and publicity, you barely get the chance to spend quality time with each other. You draw in a breath and text him a response.

You: not well, I was so confident I had this one

You lock your phone and slip it into your blazer pocket when you spot your colleague, Namjoon, headed towards you. He shoots you a pitiful smile and offers you a cigarette, which you politely decline.

“I wouldn’t beat yourself up about it, Y/N,” he tells you, while taking a long drag as he considers for a moment, “you’re still a great lawyer; you’ve just had some bad luck lately.” You groan at him.

“I shouldn’t have to rely on good luck,” You whine, “maybe I chose the wrong profession after all.” You feel vibrations in your pocket from your phone which you take out only to see a picture of Jimin proposing to you on the screen.

“Sorry, Joon. I gotta take this,” You smile forcefully and he nods back. You move away from the pillar and press the accept button, then bring the phone up to your ear. It’s silent for a moment, when you hear Jimin’s voice through the speaker.

“Hey gorgeous,” You can sense him smiling through the phone, “so bad day, huh?” You let out a small laugh at your own misfortunes and agree with him.

“You could say that,” You respond, using one hand to grip your waist to shield yourself from the cool Seoul breeze. His deep, heart-warming laugh echoes down the phone and you practically melt at the familiar comfort it gives you.

“Here, how ‘bout I set up something for later? When will you be home?” he suggests.

“Chim,” You groan, “you don’t have to do that I know you’ve got-“

“When will you be home?” he interrupts you.

“7ish?” You sigh, giving in. He lets out another throaty chuckle down the line and you begin to grin slightly.

“I’ll get something ready. I love you, pumpkin,” You cringe at the pet name he gives you and suppress a laugh.

“Love you too, Chim,” You tell him, then hang up the phone before he can call you anything else entirely cringeworthy.

Back at the office, you’re grilled by the head of the firm. He bangs on about ‘reputation’ and how he is doing ‘all he can to keep you at your position’. You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes at everything he says. He eventually wraps the whole rant up with a ‘formal warning’. A formal warning for what? You’re sure every lawyer goes through a bad patch, but you just accept ‘understandingly’ and thank him.

Eventually, 6:30 rolls around. You start saving things on your desktop and shut it down. You place your elbows on the edge of the desk, allowing your face to fall into your palms. What a shitty day. Starting with a loss at court, then a roasting by your boss and then being too distracted to get anything productive done. You rub your eyes languidly and lean back to click your neck. You sigh one final time before willing yourself to get your things together, packing your phone and paperwork into your briefcase then slipping your heels back on that you’d taken off beneath your desk to relieve your feet.

Outside, the rain is belting down and you, of course, failed to bring a coat nor umbrella, just a flimsy white blazer over your little burgundy dress. You grunt and bring your briefcase over your head as you take large strides to the bus stop which is thankfully just across the road. You stand miserably under the shelter as the rain thumps against the shoddy roof. You wrap your arms around yourself for absolutely no reason whatsoever, because frankly it does not help at all. When the bus arrives, it’s jam packed and you’re stuck standing next to some sleazy middle-aged man that is virtually pressed up against you.

After 20 minutes suffocating in the claustrophobic, clammy atmosphere of the bus, you crusade your way to the front through the sticky bodies in the way. You step off and are happy to see it’s stopped raining, leaving behind that smell of rain that you love. You saunter over to your apartment building and up to your flat. You take the key from underneath the mat and unlock the door. Inside, Jimin is sat on the couch scrolling through his phone. The table is set with two plates with some candles lit in the centre, and you can hear the running of water coming from the bathroom. You shut the door slowly behind you when Jimin’s head snaps up towards me.

“You’re home,” he smiles, getting up and walking over to you.

“What’s all this?” You laugh slightly in disbelief. He doesn’t answer and simply presses a chaste kiss on your lips before leaning back and holding your waist.

“You needed to relax,” he insists, taking your hand and leading you over to the table. He pulls out the chair and you place yourself on the cushioned seat when he jogs out into the kitchen to return promptly with two plates filled entirely with fried chicken.

“It isn’t gourmet I’m afraid,” he grins cheekily whilst settling himself in the chair opposite you, “but it’s fresh from that chicken place down the street that you like.” You laugh at him and your plates covered and piled up with meat.

“You cheesy fucker,” You announce, looking him straight in the eye while shaking your head. He sticks his tongue out as he smiles before you both dig into the food he’d bought. It isn’t a fancy meal or anything, but it’s perfect. After a little while, Jimin runs to the bathroom to stop the bath water and comes back to just listen to you tell him all about your awful day. He makes the occasional jokey comment but besides that listens to you intently. It feels good to tell him these things, even when you don’t want to, but it feels good to know he is there supporting you endlessly.

“How about that bath then,” he suggests, watching you wipe your hands with the napkins from on the table, “I think it’ll do you some good.”

“It’ll do me better than that; I swear I can still feel the sweat from the bus on my skin,” You shudder, recalling the proximity and closeness of all the bodies. He laughs at you and takes your plates away into the kitchen so you can head into the bathroom where he has littered the bath water with dried petals and left out a bath bomb for you to use when you get in. Your heart melts at the effort he has put in, thus you quickly head out into the kitchen where Jimin is washing up. You walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist.

“Come join me,” You mumble into his back, pressing your cheek up against him. He takes the washed plates from the sink and places them gently onto the drying rack before turning around to face you.

“It was meant for you,” he mutters, cupping your face in his hands.

“It’s better when you’re there,” You whine. Knowing his willpower when it comes to you, you are not surprised when he walks with you back into the bathroom. Stripping from both of your gross day clothes he settles into the bath so you can sit between his legs and lean back against him. He leans up to grab the loofah hanging on the wall then coats it in shower gel to rub your arms gently. He massages your skin softly and you lean forwards so he can unwind the knots in your back after such a stressful day. His touch is so calming and relaxing you feel yourself dozing off after sitting with him for only a few minutes.

“Come on, love,” he mumbles, helping you up out of the bath. He takes a towel and wraps it around you so you potter out into the corridor and quickly into your bedroom where he joins you seconds later wearing some sweatpants. He helps you slip into one of his t-shirts then guides you to bed where you snuggle up to him beneath the covers and he wraps his arm around you.

“I’m sure things will get better,” he whispers, pressing his lips to the top of your head so you can bury your face up into his neck. You just moan slightly in response, not wanting to talk about it any longer. He chuckles and you revel in the vibrations from his chest that reverberate through you.

“Well, whatever happens, I love you not matter what,” he tells you, and to that you fall into a deep, relaxed slumber in his arms.  

[lafeae]

Prompt: Bloodstained Clothes

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!

Characters: Kaiba Seto, Jounouchi Katsuya/Joey Wheeler

For: @badthingshappenbingo

Read on AO3

Detergent was expensive. When weighing to buy it versus food, Jounouchi always picked the food. He’d rather be able to cobble more meals together for him and the Old Man than to be able to throw soap pellets on clothes.

If he needed to wash something, hot water and a little bar of soap worked, even if it left behind stiff, chalky streaks. He’d usually rubbed out the worst of the stains, at least until he could bother the lady next door for a cup of detergent which, on Sundays, she had begun to leave in the laundry room for him.

But in the mornings, when bleary and half asleep, Jounouchi didn’t care too much about what shirt he grabbed off the floor as long as it didn’t smell like beer or piss. Any white shirt was fine for under the uniform.

At least, he didn’t care until Honda batted his arm in the middle of class and asked: “Wearin’ the ketchup for lunch later?”

Jounouchi glanced down at his shirt and pulled at the hem. Little splotches hung from the collar and dripped straight down. They were browned, faded, a little gross. Could have been ketchup....or ponzu sauce. Maybe soy. He wouldn’t know until he wet his finger to taste it.

“Yeah, I’ll ya dip fries in it later, jackass.” Quickly, Jounouchi fastened the top button of his uniform jacket. “Now shut up a’fore Sakamoto hates me worse.”

As if on cue, Sakamoto-sensei asked: “Do have something you’d like to say, Jounouchi-san?”

Honda snorted behind his hand.

“Uh....no?”

“Then would you like to answer the problem?”

Jounouchi’s face reddened, and he finished fastening his jacket. “....not really?”

Sakamoto-sensei motioned for Jounouchi to rise, and he did with reluctance while quickly looking over the scribbled math problems that were pure gibberish, all the whole trying to ignore Kaiba’s mirthful laughter. Jerk had been gone for a blissful week, but of course he would be there when Jounouchi needed the extra kick in the nads.

“Shut it, moneybags,” Jounouchi hissed.

“Jounouchi-san?”

Jounouchi groaned. It was gonna be one shitty thing after another today.

—

Jounouchi was happy to go to lunch. It meant unbuttoning the God forsaken uniform and airing out the heat it trapped. If the summer got any hotter before their break, he would probably die.

Between bites, he caught Kaiba’s quick looks; as if the prick was being sly—he just seemed like a weirdo instead. Jounouchi shot him dirty looks back, instead, curling his nose, sticking out his tongue, and itching his eye with his middle-finger for Honda and Yuugi’s amusement.

“Seriously?” Anzu asked.

Jounouchi shrugged. “Kaiba’s bein’ weird again.”

“And...?”

“And it’s fun t’ mess with him?”

Anzu sighed. “He’s just trying to rile you up, you know. And it’s working. Then you’ll go over to him mad, he’ll insult you, and you’ll get more mad...”she waved her hands. “Whatever.”

“Sounds like a normal day to me,” Yuugi quipped.

“I ain’t goin�� over to him. I swear,” said Jounouchi, though he looked across at Kaiba anyways. Anzu glared at Jounouchi. “I really ain’t. He’s hopped over prick and went straight to creeper. Few weeks ago he gave me this....”

Before admitting anymore, Jounouchi stopped and bit the tip of his tongue until he tasted blood.

“Gave you what?” Yuugi asked.

“Nothin’.”

“You can tell us, Jou-kun.”

“Seriously, ain’t nothin’.”

There wasn’t an exact reason for Jounouchi to stop talking. At first, he convinced himself that it was because he didn’t want to admit that Kaiba was nice because his friends would laugh in his face. But as Kaiba eyed the messy splotches on Jounouchi’s shirt, the more Jounouchi realised it was purely his own embarrassment. His clothes weren’t stained with ketchup or ponzu sauce. He knew it was blood. Probably from a bloody nose from the Old Man. Something. And that meant going into the forbidden zone of his friends acknowledging his terrible situation but saying nothing.

Further more, Jounouchi considered, it meant that it wasn’t just him. The touch Kaiba gave him, the momentary expression of understanding, lingered on his shoulder and in his memory. He wasn’t alone. Admitting that Kaiba helped him for the forbidden reason meant that he at least sympathised or, at worst, empathised. Did the prick even do empathy?

“You sure?” Yuugi asked. “Kaiba...Kaiba didn’t give you the black eye, did he? Because I though it was your—,”

Jounouchi waved Yuugi off. “Nah, Nah! Yuug’, now you’re bein’ silly. Ya think I can’t take that beanpole on? Puh-lease! That wouldn’t even be a contest. Prolly break his hand on me punchin’ wrong or somethin’. Right Kaiba?”

But Kaiba was gone, and Jounouchi chuckled at his own cluelessness long enough that everyone started talking about something else. Good.

—

Gym came around near the end of the day. Jounouchi was happy to change out of his uniform for the hour, not worrying if anyone was looking at the stains because he’d be damned if he was buttoning his jacket again.

They paired off to continue the course of tennis practice—something Jounouchi had picked up enough not to lob the ball into the net. The rest of it was rather lacklustre. Near misses and chasing balls across three courts only to do it again the very next serve.

Kaiba wasn’t helping. He’d had the misfortune of pairing up with the prick ‘at random’ the couch said. Yeah right. As if they didn’t have enough problems.

“Ya don’t gotta show off ya know,” Jounouchi said after coming back for the 27th time. “I know ya got a stupid personal trainer an’ shit but ya don’t gotta rub it in.”

“Then learn to hit it back, mutt.”

“Stop tryin’ to drill it in my face, asshole!” Jounouchi weakly served, and the ball came back instantly, probably at ninety miles an hour. He avoided it, clenching his racket so hard to thought he’d break it. “Seriously?”

Kaiba rolled his eyes.

Huffing, Jounouchi grabbed the ball and threw it back to Kaiba, intentionally missing to make him run after it. Though Kaiba glided more than ran. He wasn’t exactly the picture of a perfect body. He was all legs—how long were those damn legs without shorts on?—and skinny as a twig. Without the studded shoulder pads or ridiculous coats and leather, Kaiba was just a lanky teenage boy who hadn’t finished growing into his limbs, though he was fortunate to have a pretty face. Maybe. Whatever.

Kaiba’s next serve caught Jounouchi off-guard, scrambling his thoughts and causing him him stumble to hit the ball back. He tripped over his own feet to reach every hit, but at least they were managing something that could be called a tennis match.

It was almost fun. Kaiba was almost nice; his hits were hard, fast, erratic, but Jounouchi was determined to keep up. He lost confidence when Kaiba hit a ball out of bounds.

“Ya don’t gotta play easy, either,” Jounouchi said.

“Don’t get cocky, mutt.”

“What? I mean, c’mon man. Ya whiffed that.”

“Please. Why would I do you any favours?”

Jounouchi shrugged. “Ya know there’s a mode called ‘normal’ in most games. You should try it sometime.”

Kaiba said nothing.

By the end of it, Jounouchi was happy to quickly shower off, even if it meant getting back into the ponzu-blood stained undershirt. He weaved through the locker room and kept his eyes down. The last thing he needed was more thoughts like the ones about Kaiba. He wanted to change and get going.

But his locker was distinctly missing an undershirt.

“Oh come fuckin’ on!” He groaned. “A’right! Which one of you jerks is stealin’ my clothes now?”

No one owned up to it. No matter how hard he pressed, everyone denied it. Who the hell wanted a blood-ponzu stained shirt, even if it was a prank?

One by one, Jounouchi’s classmates filed out and left him standing in the middle of a steamy locker room, half-dressed and wondering if there was someone who needed his shirt worse than he did. He grumbled in acceptance of that far out thought—it made it, along with this tedious day—easier to deal with.

Quickly, he gathered up his things, pausing at the half-used make-up jar. Right. That. He needed to give to back to Kaiba.

When Jounouchi to leave, he panicked and stumbled back into the lockers holding his chest.

“Shit, Kaiba! What the hell man, warn a guy?”

Kaiba raised a brow. “You’re really going to go to class without you’re shirt?”

“Ain’t like I got a choice. It’s sorta gone, if ya didn’t notice.” Wordlessly, Kaiba displayed the stained shirt in his left hand. “Why you freakin’ prick. I knew I shoulda hit ya with a ball you—“

“Same night?” Kaiba interrupted.

“Same night what?”

“As the black eye?”

Jounouchi pursed his lips and studied Kaiba. Ever the emotionless cinder-block, but there was a hint of something deep in him. His lips twitched and his eyes thinned waiting for an answer that Jounouchi didn’t owe him. But he felt compelled to speak nonetheless.

“I...I dunno.”

“No?”

“Don’t do laundry all that much. Essentials, ya know? Detergents expensive an’...”

“And it’s happened more than once?”

Jounouchi shrugged. “Once or twice. Ain’t keepin’ count.”

Kaiba’s lips parted and closed; for a second, Jounouchi saw something surreal. An anaemic smile, barren of any kind of pity or sympathy. It was more than knowing, too. It was like a wordless mental connection, brain-to-brain. With moneybags, of all people.

Kaiba shrugged off his jacket and quickly unbuttoned his undershirt, shrugging it off and extending it to Jounouchi.

“What’s this...?”

“A clean shirt.”

“No shit. I mean what are you doing?”

No response. And Jounouchi didn’t really know if he wanted an answer. It wasn’t everyday that Kaiba went around being magnanimous, though it seemed have to increased in frequency.

After several moments of staring, Jounouchi took the shirt and shrugged it on. It was too long for him, and the shoulders were too wide, but it was a good fit.

“So...what are you gonna wear?”

“I have another.”

“‘Course ya do,” Jounouchi said, but that didn’t change the fact that Kaiba gave him the literal shirt off his back. “What are ya gonna do with mine?”

“Wash it properly. Actually get the stains out.”

“Gonna bring my fresh-laundered clothes to class, then?”

Kaiba dressed and tucked the shirt in his satchel. “I was thinking you should stop by the estate on Sunday to pick it up.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Do ya want this back, then?” Jounouchi asked, proffering the make-up jar. Kaiba didn’t reply and left out the door.

It registered too late that he’d been invited to the fancy Kaiba estate, even if it was to pick up clothes. Something about that made butterflies flutter in his chest.

Maybe Kaiba wasn’t a prick, but he was still weird.

That was okay.

[barpurplewrites]

Twist the nuts

@a-monthly-rumbelling Random Prompt ; “I’ve been fixing (x) and now I’m all sweaty.”

Lots of swearing in the one.

-x-x-x-

Buying the sofa bed on the cheep had seemed like such a good idea at the time.

-x-x-x-

Gold blew a lank lock of hair out of his face and wished for the millionth time that he’d never cut it. It had made sense after Milah handed him the divorce papers, but now it was in the awkward growing back stage, it just got in the way. He’d have probably kept it short if Neal hadn’t said it looked weird. Huffing at the irritating hair again he tightened his grip on the spanner and applied all the force he could muster. The nut started to move. The grin that appeared on his face slid away as the spanner slipped from his grip and flew across the room to clatter against the radiator.

“For fuck’s sake!”

He sat back and raked his sweaty fingers through his even sweatier hair as he glared at the fucking sofa bed. He’d picked it up cheap, an ex-display model that had seized up. At the time he’d been confident that he could get it working, but after four hours of solid work he’d only managed to release three of six bolts. The fucking thing was mocking him. It was tempting to give it a kick but knowing his luck he’d break his toe.

“You fucking bawbag. Useless cunting twat of a contraption. Fucking wee..."

The doorbell halted his rant. Gold glanced guiltily at the open window. It was only February and still cold, but after an hour of battling with the cursed sofa bed of doom he'd needed a breeze. He groaned and limped towards the front door wondering which of his neighbours he’d offended with his Glasgee gob.

"Please don't be the nun."

Mother Superior didn't think much of him anyway and struck him as the sort who would delight in offering the court a bad report of his conduct. Wouldn't look good having a nun say you were a bad father.

His relief at not finding the nun on his doorstep was short lived. Instead of having to placate an irate nun he found himself face to face with the lovely wee librarian.

"Hey there Gold."

He mumbled something close to hello. He always turned into an incoherent mess around the lovely Belle French. She was wearing leggings and a baggy jumper today, and as ever she looked gorgeous. In his paint stained jeans and tatty white t-shirt, he felt like a slob, a gross sweaty slob.

Belle smiled at him; "Are you okay? Just you've been cussing up a storm, so I wondered if anything was wrong."

"I'm trying to fix a sofa bed."

"Do you need a hand?"

In his head he politely declined her offer, on the grounds that she'd already done so much helping him prepare for the custody hearing. In his head he suavely asked to take her out to dinner to say thank you. In his head she said yes.

In fact, he hummed and hawed for a moment and then said; "Aye, come on in."

As Belle brushed by him, he winced at just how much of a sweaty mess he was, fuck he must stink. Belle gave no sign that she found his smell offensive. He led her into the living room and began babbling.

"I got it cheap you see, thought it would be good for when Neal stays, for me to sleep on I mean, the lad will have my bed, so he sleeps well, needs a good night's sleep growing lad like him..."

He trailed off as Belle touched his arm. Christ but she was warm.

“I think Neal would love to sleep on a bed that transforms."

Gold nodded dumbly. He'd considered that but worried that Milah might try to say it wasn't good enough and stop Neal’s over-night stays.

"Shall we see if we can beat it into submission?"

"Aye."

Gold crossed the room and scooped up the spanner that he'd tossed. All the air left his lungs as he turned around to find Belle stripping out of her baggy jumper. He hair fluffed out as she pulled it over her head, leaving her mussed. Gold struggled to get a breath at the sight of her. Belle French was standing in his house wearing blue leggings and a tight white tank top. When she leaned over to examine the sofa frame, he shook his head and dropped his eyes to the spanner in his hand.

"You got any lube?"

Gold's head jerked up so fast his neck cracked: "Erm, what?"

"Three in one oil, or WD-40?"

"Oh yeah right, just in the tool box."

He wasn't daft, he'd oiled to nuts and bolts before he'd started. Belle added a bit more and picked up a second spanner.

"Top or bottom?"

Gold blinked at her, silently cursing his mind for being in the gutter. He understood what she was suggesting, no need to be a dirty old man just because her words were a wee suggestive.

"I'll wriggle under if you'll go on, erm do the top one."

Nearly put his foot in it there, but saved himself, just about. Gold shifted into position and applied the spanner to the bolt. Once Belle was set she said; "Righty tighty, lefty loosey."

Gold gave her a nod and together they attacked the bolt. It came loose after a moment and with a cheer they moved on to the next one. The second one took a bit more umph, but they did it and Gold had managed to stop himself swearing out loud.

"One more to go."

From Gold's point of view the last one was a nightmare. In order to get leverage Belle had to stand astride his hips. The frame of the sofa bed was between them, but it didn't stop his filthy mind spinning images of what their position could lead to. He was sweating like a whore in church on Sunday now, and it didn't help that Belle was flushed from the effort. His hands were so slick that he lost his grip on the spanner twice before they got started.

“Sorry Belle just a moment.”

He wiped his hands off on his jeans and gripped the spanner.

“Okay. Ready.”

Gold's arm muscles strained. Belle grunted and shifted her stance, her foot nudging against his hip. He almost bit through his tongue at the contact.

“Stupid wee fucker.”

He wasn't sure if he was cursing the bolt or his own idiotic mind. Just because Belle was a kind and pretty woman who helped him out didn't mean that he had any right to think about her like that.

“Oh, come on you twat.”

If he'd had the breath to spare Gold would have laughed at Belle swearing. Somehow, she still sounded prim and proper. Maybe he should teach her some good old Glasgow swearing? That would be fun to hear.

The bolt finally gave.

“Got ye yer bastard.”

“Thank fuck for that.”

Belle wiped her hand over her face and then on her top before she offered it to him to help him up from the floor. They stood side by side breathing heavily for a moment.

“Okay what's next?”

“Ah that would be the really noisy bit I reckon.”

Working in tandem they applied oil to every moving part. While that was sinking in Gold closed the window. The breeze was cooling the sweat on his skin and making him feel sticky.

“You okay?”

Belle blew a wisp of hair out of her face; "I'm good, shall we give it a go?"

The sofa made the worst sort of metal scream as they tried to open it into a bed. There was a moment when it stuck. Gold wondered how the hell he'd be able to get the damn thing out of the house if it jammed like this. Belle and he grunted and threw all the weight they could at it and finally with a lurch and a groan of metal it sprung into place.

“Yay hey! Look at that!”

Belle offered him a hand for a high five. Neal had only been accepting fist bumps these days because ‘they were cooler’, so Gold bumped her palm with his fist. Belle curled her hand into a fist just as he opened his for a high five. They laughed together at the muddle. After more oil and a few more tries the change from sofa to bed and back was easy.

“Shall we test it out?”

Gold nodded happily, not really considering that Belle had suggested a test run while the damn thing was in bed position. The bed was solid as they both gingerly climbed on to it, no alarming creaks or groans. Gold lay on his bad and stared at the ceiling, very aware of Belle next to him.

“Not quite how I pictured this.”

Gold rolled his head to one side to look at her

“Pictured what?”

Belle looked at him and bit her bottom lip; “Being in a bed all sweaty with you. I've thought about it quite a lot.”

He licked his tongue over his lips and asked; “Have you now?”

She nodded, a shy smile on her lips that was going to be the death of him.

Gold took a quick breath and said; “I've thought about it too, quite a bit to be honest.”

Belle looked back at the ceiling, but he could see the smile still curling her lips.

“It should be one of our own beds, not Neal's.” - She looked at him again – “Come over to mine tonight about six? We can order some food in.”

Gold glanced at his watch, it was quarter after five; “Half six, so I've time to shower?”

Belle made a show of lifting her arm and sniffing her arm pit. Her nose wrinkled dramatically; “That is a very good idea for both of us.”

She rolled off the bed and picked her jumper up from where she'd left it on the back of a chair; “So dinner at half six and then...”

Gold stood up and moved close enough to take her hand; “And then we'll see hey?”

He walked her to the door and watched her as she crossed the lawn to her house. Once she'd given him a little wave and stepped inside Gold closed his front door and leaned against it.

“Fucking hell. Who'd have thought?”

He did a little celebration dance and caught a whiff of the sweat clinging to him. He needed a shower fast, and a shave wouldn't go amiss either. Grinning like fool Gold hurried into the front room and folded the bed back into a sofa. He patted the chocolate brown fabric fondly.

“Yer not such a fucker after all.”

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Hey Angel - Chapter 100

“Hey! Give it back!” Wylie groaned chasing after Willow. 

“No! It’s my turn!” She defended. 

“You have your own!” Wylie shouted. 

“It’s charging! Shush before you wake Mum and Dad!” Willow shouted back. 

Harry opened the bedroom door and saw Willow and Wylie fighting over the iPad. It was seven in the morning, on a Saturday, how they are already up, he thought to himself. 

“Already accomplished that,” Harry yawned crossing his arms. “What are you two fighting about?”

“I was playing on my iPad and then I put it down to go to the bathroom and then when I came back Willow was on it!” He said. 

“You were done! Duh! Besides, it’s my turn! You’ve been on it since six!” Willow said. 

“Okay, how about this,” he said. “I’ll take the Ipad and then you two can help me make breakfast for everyone.” 

“Aww, Dad,” they both whined. 

“Aww, “ Harry mocked. 

“Let’s go,” he said pushing them towards the stairs. 

They groaned as they walked to the kitchen and Harry laughed. 

“Where’s the rest of your brother’s and sisters?” He asked. 

“Jackson’s snoring, Ella is still sleeping, and Carter is cleaning his guitar,” Willow rolled her eyes standing up on the stool at the island. 

“And by cleaning, he’s just rubbing it with a washcloth. Pretty sure there’s nothing on it,” Wylie added. 

“Well, at least he’s not fighting over an IPad at seven in the morning,” Harry smirked. 

The twins rolled their eyes. 

“Where’s Mummy and Poppy?” Wylie asked. 

“Mummy was taking a shower and feeding Poppy,” Harry said getting out the ingredients for pancakes. 

They nodded and waited for Harry to tell them what to do.

Once everything was out on the counter, Harry measured out everything and told them when to add each of the ingredients. 

“Okay, now we’re going to take turns mixing it all together,” Harry said. 

“I want to go first!” They both say at the same time. 

“How about this, one of you holds the bowl and the other risks the mix,” Harry said, “Then after a few mixes, it’s the other’s turn and you both take turns until it’s all mixed?” 

“Fine! Sissy can go first,” Wylie mumbled. 

“Thanks, brother,” Willow smiled kissing his cheek. 

“Gross,��� he giggled. 

Harry laughed and heard a commotion from the stairs. It was Jackson carrying a giggling Carter over his shoulder. 

“Remind me again, why you and Mum had so many kids?” Jackson joked walking into the kitchen. 

“Hey!” Willow, Wylie, and Carter protested. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding, I love you all, even though you’re all nuts,” he laughed sitting Carter on the floor. 

“You two realize you were just like them when you were their ages,” Harry said pouring the pancake batter onto the griddle. 

“Never,” he smirked. “So, isn’t today the day you’re taking Ella out?” 

“I am,” he nodded. “Why?” 

“I went to wake her up, after Carter, jumped in my bed, but she was already up. Mum was helping her get ready,” he said. 

Harry smiled, “I’m glad she’s looking forward to it.” 

“Daddy, why am I not going?” Willow pouted. “I’m your daughter too and Poppy.” 

“I know, sweetheart,” Harry said softly. “But remember when Ella came home sad the other day?” 

She nodded. 

“Well, I’m doing this to show her how much I love her and so that she doesn’t feel sad anymore,” he answered. 

“Oh, I don’t want sissy sad either,” She smiled. 

He smiled, “I promise one day I’ll take you, Ella, and Poppy out.” 

“Yay!” She giggled. 

“Hey, what about us?” Jackson smirked. “You know your sons. I mean... I could use some new clothes... maybe a car.” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “You’ve got plenty of clothes, especially since you sneak into my closet and wear mine. And you’ve got a good two or three years before you can legally drive, so why do you need a car? Just so you can sit in the driveway and hang out?” Harry smirked. 

Jackson rolled his eyes, “So I have it to practice.” 

“Well, you can’t practice until you get a permit, which is still a few months away. Have you even been studying?” He asked. 

“A little...” he mumbled. 

“Well, you better turn that little into a lot, if you plan on getting your permit on your birthday,” he said. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got this,” Jackson smirked. “I’m a Styles remember.” 

“Yeah, you are, talking like that,” You laughed walking into the kitchen. 

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Both Harry and Jackson asked at the same time. 

“I rest my case,” you smirked. 

“Anyway,” Harry said. “Jackson, are you good to take over, while I go get ready?” 

“Yep,” Jackson said. “Okay, little Minions go over to the table and sit down. I’ll bring your food in a bit.” 

Harry rolled his eyes and walked over to you. He kissed you quickly and tickled Poppy’s tummy. 

“Morning my loves,” he smiled. 

“Morning,” you smiled. “Ella looks really pretty. She’s looking forward to today. Thank you for doing this.” 

“Baby, you don’t have to thank me,” he smiled. “Now, are you sure you got it with the little hellions?” 

“Yeah, I’ll put Poppy in her chair and finish up the breakfast,” you nodded. 

Harry smiled kissing you one more time and heading upstairs. 

**

It didn’t take super long for Harry to shower and get ready. Once he was ready, he came downstairs, expecting Ella to be there, but she wasn’t. 

“She wanted to wait until you were down here,” You smiled. “She wanted to make a staircase entrance.” 

Harry nodded with a smile and turned towards the stairs. After you shouted out for her, Ella emerged from her room and Harry’s eyes widened as he looked up at her. You had curled her hair and applied just a hint of makeup. She was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans, a white t-shirt, and a pair of vans. 

“You look just like your Mum,” Harry smiled. 

She blushed hugged him tightly. 

“Ready to go?” He asked. 

She nodded and they both waved bye to everyone before heading out the door and into the car. Since it was just the two of them, Harry decided to take one of his smaller, sports cars, that he usually drove when you two went out on dates. 

“Isn’t this the car you take when you and Mom go out?” Ella asked. 

“Yep,” he smiled. “But you’re my date today, so I thought why not?” 

Ella giggled and got inside. Harry put the top of the convertible down and Ella hooked up her iPod up and put on the playlist she made just for today. 

“Oh my god, what is this?” He laughed. 

“It’s a boyband,” she smirked. “Just like you.” 

“Yeah, but they’re no One Direction,” he smirked. 

“You’re right, they’re better,” She smirked. 

“Ouch!” Harry laughed pulling out of the driveway. “I’m highly offended by that. I mean you used to be One Direction’s number one fan, what happened?” 

“I was a baby then. I’ve grown up,” she giggled. 

“Don’t let Uncle Niall hear you say that,” Harry laughed. 

**

After breakfast, Ella and Harry went to the mall. It didn't take long before Harry was carrying tons of bags. A few were Ella’s, some were for you and the other kids, but quite a bit was for Harry. 

“I think you have a shopping problem, Daddy,” Ella laughed when they stopped for a smoothie at the food court. 

“There was a sale!” He defended. 

“Okay, but don’t we have enough Gucci pillows in the house?” she laughed. “Mom’s gonna kill you.” 

“Your Mum loves me,” he said. “She won’t kill me. She may throw a pillow or two at me, but at least they’re soft so there shouldn’t be an injury.” 

Ella rolled her eyes, “Where should we go next?” 

“Where ever you want, love,” he smiled. “Today’s your day.” 

“Could we maybe go to the park or something?” She asked. “Maybe like on a bike ride or something.” 

“I know the perfect place,” he smiled. “Come on, we can finish the smoothies in the car.” 

**

Once all the bags were in the trunk of the car, Ella and Harry got inside and he drove straight to the park, where you and Harry met with the kids for the first time. Harry parked the car and found the bikes for rent. He paid for a few hours and looked over at her with a smile. 

“Do you know what park this is?” He asked. 

She shook her head. 

“This park is the same park I met your mother at... well, it wasn’t the first place we met-” he said. 

“Because you spilled coffee on her at Uncle James’ studio, right?” Ella asked. “And then... water at the restaurant.” 

“Yes, yes, but that’s not the point,” he laughed. “Your mother and I first met with you and Jackson here at this park and we always brought you two here whenever we were home in LA.” 

“Really?” Ella smiled. 

Harry nodded, “Then when we moved, we just went to the one in the neighborhood,” he said. 

“So, this park is super special then?” Ella asked. 

“Really, really special,” he smiled. “I even proposed to your Mum, here.” 

Ella smiled, “Oh my god, Dad! I’ve got the best idea ever!” 

“What?” He laughed. 

“You know how Mom’s birthday is coming up?” Ella asked. 

“Yeah, of course,” he said. 

“Why don’t we all come back here and have like a family picnic?” Ella asked. “Sort of like... a back to where it all started...” 

“I think that’s a great idea,” Harry smiled. “Want to help me plan it out?” 

“Duh! It was my idea,” she smirked. “We should make it a surprise though and we can invite everyone. Do you think Nana Anne and Auntie Gemma can come?” 

“I’ll see if we can arrange that,” he smiled. 

“This is going to be fucking awesome!” Ella smirked. 

“Ella! Watch the language,” Harry scolded with a laugh. “Your Mum will literally kill me if she heard that.” 

“Why because you’re the one who says it all the time?” She smirked. 

“Exactly,” He laughed. 

“Well, then maybe you’re the one who should be watching their language,” Ella smirked. 

**

It was well after Sunset by the time Ella and Harry arrived home. After the bike ride at the park, they went to the pier for lunch and then spent some time at the beach before heading to dinner. Ella was used to going to fancier restaurants, but not with just her dad. 

Once the two got home, Harry brought everything inside and before collapsing on the couch next to you. A fort had been built by Jackson and the younger Styles and they all were watching a movie, while you held a sleeping Poppy in your arms. 

Ella made some popcorn and joined the rest of her siblings in the fort. 

You smiled looking over at Harry, “How did it go?” 

“It went great,” he smiled. “I loved it.” 

“You know... I started thinking... if you did this with all the kids where you spent just one day with only one of them... it’d literally take you almost an entire week,” you laughed. 

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “I’d be broke and exhausted.” 

“Maybe you should have thought about that all those times you jumped me in bed,” you smirked. 

“Oh come on,” he laughed,” I seem to remember plenty of times where you were the one practically throwing yourself at me.” 

“It’s cause you’re just so hot,” you mocked. 

“You know it’s true,” he smirked. “You lucked out in the husband department, love.” 

“Even though your statement is a cocky one, I do have to agree with you on that one,” you smiled. 

Harry pressed his lips against yours with a smile. 

**

Soon after the movie finished, you and Harry got all the kids ready for bed. Once everyone was tucked in and fast asleep, you and Harry went into your room and started getting ready for bed. Just when you were about to climb under the blankets, there was a knock on the door. 

“Come in,” Harry smiled. 

Ella peeked her head out and walked into the room. 

“Everything okay?” Harry asked. 

Ella nodded walking over to him. She wrapped her arms around him tightly. 

“I just wanted to say thank you,” she whispered. “for today... for being my Daddy when no one else would. I love you and I’m glad you chose me because I wouldn’t want anyone else.” 

Your heart swelled as you heard her say that and you could see tears in Harry’s eyes. He held her tightly to him and kissed her head. 

“You’re welcome, love,” he smiled. “And I love you too. More than anything and I’m just happy you chose me too.” 

**

So, I’m thinking of ONE MORE chapter... because I have a really great idea on how to end it. But if you have anything you want me to add, let me know! :) 

[lovemesomesurveys]

When people smoke around you, does it make you cough? Yes. It makes me feel really sick, actually. I get dizzy, nauseous, and a bad headache. Would you rather name your child Michelle or Monica? Michelle. Do you know anyone who works at McDonald's? No. Do they like working there? -- Is it warm out enough to go out in a T-shirt where you live? It’s 63F, which is cold here. Some people do still dress like it’s summer, though.

Would you rather be able to teleport or be invisible? Teleport for sure. If someone offered you a million dollars to move to the opposite end of the earth, would you? Why or why not? Oh, absolutely. My family and I would pack up and go as soon as we could. What do you do when you have an itch you can't itch? Figure out a way to itch it. Ugh, that’s the worst. What is your mom's and dad's favorite TV show? They each have a few. In general, my mom loves her ID channel (the Investigation Discovery crime show channel), some sitcoms, court shows, and some dramas. My dad loves his sports, ghost investigation shows, food network shows (especially Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives), Seinfeld, Family Guy, American Dad, History channel shows, and lately he’s been into Family Feud. How did you get your hair the way it was today? I just cut it super short last summer. Have you ever felt like you lost a a part of yourself? I do feel that way. How so? I’ve changed the past few years and definitely not in a good way. What is your best friend's favorite relative? My best friend is my mom and besides her kids of course haha, she’s close to her sisters. Would you rather marry Batman or Superman? Superman. Do you think buying second hand clothes is gross? I wouldn’t say that, but it’s not something I’m into. When's the last time you wished your day would just be over already? I feel that way a lot. :/ If you found out the last person you kissed was moving to a different country, how would you feel? I mean, I haven’t seen or talked to him in like 5 years, so... it wouldn’t be different. He could have done that already for all I know. Who has the biggest eyes you know? *shrug* Name something you know about algebra. Ew, math. Does it gross you out when your parents kiss? No.  Do you have a playlist made on Youtube? I have several. Do you like dollar stores? Yeah, you can find some cute stuff and good snacks. What's the last thing you bought from one? I was just there the other day and bought some snacks and a few cute Easter decorations. Are your eyes hazel? No. Do you know anyone with hazel eyes? Yes. Are most of your books from Chapters, Coles, etc or used book stores? Most are from the Kindle Unlimited app, actually. Do you like those big headbands with flowers Blair on Gossip Girl wears? Nah. How many people saw your last kiss? I don’t know. When you younger and misbehaved, what did your parents threaten you with? They didn’t threaten me, I just would lose some computer time. Who has the biggest ego you know? A family friend of ours is actually pretty vain. Do you think it's weird how babies are made? Yeah. The human body is a very complex, interesting thing. Has the last person you hugged ever seen you in only underwear? Yes. If you walk by a mirror, will you check yourself out in it? Nooo. I avoid looking at myself as much as possible. Have you seen The Strangers? Yeah. Did it scared you? It is creepy. Have you ever lost a friend over the opposite sex? No. Describe your appearence right now. A mess as per usual.

How would you react if your last ex wanted to get back together? That wouldn’t happen. Are you confortable in a short skirt? No. I never wear skirts. Do you and your family go on a vacation ever year? We try to do at least something like little weekend getaways. When you were going out with your last ex and you had the chance to date your celebrity crush, would you have left your bf/gf for them? No. Does your house have an alarm? Yes. What about your car? I don’t drive, so I don’t have a car. Who was your most romantic moment with? Joseph. Who does your most embarrasing moment involve? Hard to say what my most embarrassing moment was. Does your dad swear? Sometimes. Do you sweat easily? During the summer. Ugh. If your last kiss asked you on a date, what would you say? A kiss can talk? When you like someone, do you picture what your children will look like? No. Did you like this survey? It was fine.

[leigh-kelly]

165. “Do you like it when I touch you like that?” A continuation of this.

After Santana gets back from her grandmother’s funeral, so grateful to have Brittany by her side when she almost had more than one nervous breakdown in the church, Rachel tells her that she’s going away for the weekend. Santana has a lot of work to do, especially with catching up from the classes she missed while she was back home, but she thinks maybe she’s finally ready to...be intimate with Brittany. They’ve been together for months now, Brittany went back to Ohio for a funeral with her, and Santana is falling for her really hard. She’s more nervous than she’s ever been in her life, but she’s not so nervous that she doesn’t want to do it.

Santana cleans her room, and she puts new sheets on the bed. They’re just plaid flannel, like all her sheets, but they’re fresh, and Santana feels better about that. She thinks about getting sparkling cider, but that feels really, really lame, so she settles on pulling out a sushi menu from her drawer and leaving it on her desk. She hasn’t even asked Brittany to stay over yet, or told her that Rachel is going to be gone, but by ten o’clock on Friday morning, she’s showered with the good smelling body wash she picked up from Lush, and she’s shaved her legs in preparation for something to happen. 

While she waits for Brittany to wake up and come knock on her door, Santana works on her Hemingway paper. The monotony of it actually serves to distract her from the roiling nerves that have concentrated in her stomach, and she’s grateful for that. She’s excited to finally have sex with Brittany—considering she’s thought about it a lot—but she’s also so concerned that she’s not going to be good. That Brittany is going to be turned off by her inexperience. That they’re going to be sexually incompatible, because Brittany is probably really good at...stuff...while Santana just isn’t. But she swallows it down, and when there’s a knock on the door, Santana plasters a smile on her face and goes to answer it.

“Hey.” Brittany walks through the door, as always, still in her pajamas. “Have you already cleaned your whole room today? It smells like bleach in here.”

“Yeah...you know, I was up. I also wrote half of my Hemingway paper.”

“Jeeze, I’m lucky I brushed my teeth. Only reason I did is so I could do this.” Brittany leans in and kisses Santana, with Santana not hesitating to deepen it, and allow Brittany’s tongue into her mouth. “Mmm perfect.”

“So, uh.” Santana shifts her weight between her feet, and looks down at her socks. “Rachel went away for the weekend.”

“Sweet! We can watch Oliver and Company without her singing over all the characters!”

“Um...I was actually thinking, do you maybe wanna stay over with me?”

“Wait what? I never stay here.”

“I know.” Santana flushes. “I don’t want to be weird right now, but, I want to be with you tonight. Like...you know.”

“Wait, really?” Brittany’s eyes widen, and Santana nods slowly. 

“Yeah, really. I feel super weird about the fact that I’m planning it like this. I just...do better with a plan.”

“I’m glad you did. That gives me time to make it special for you.”

“I thought we were both in agreement that virginity is a social construct.” Santana sucks in a breath, and Brittany smiles.

“We are. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want our first time together to be special. I’m not going to do anything crazy, but my mom always insists on sending me candles every time she makes me a care package. Maybe we’ll just light them, and I’ll make us an awesome playlist?”

“I’m already starting to feel a little overwhelmed by this.” Santana confesses. “I don’t want you to have these high expectations for me.”

“No expectations, Santana. We don’t even have to do anything if you change your mind. Regardless, I’m making the most of a night you don’t have a roommate, even if we just eat ramen and watch a movie.”

“I...was actually going to irresponsibly use part of my financial aid refund check and order us sushi.”

“You know I’ll never say no to sushi. I was actually going to see if you wanted to go grab breakfast, I’m starving.”

“I had cereal a little while ago.” Santana tells Brittany, though part of the reason she doesn’t want to have breakfast today is that she needs a little space before she explodes. “And I want to get this paper done so it’s not hanging over my head tonight.”

“Okay, cool. I’ll text Artie and see what his deal is, sometimes he sits in the dining hall for like two hours holding court.”

“You’re not mad, are you?”

“No, not at all. I know you’ve got a lot of work to do, and I’m just glad I get to spend all night with you.”

After Brittany leaves, Santana obsesses about the night while she works on her paper. She wonders if she should go shave more, or if she’s fine. Half of her considers googling some porn, just to be more aware of things, but she figures she’s read enough fan fiction to have a basic understanding of how things are going to work. She’s completely freaked out, but she also knows she wants to do this. She likes Brittany a lot, and she just keeps telling herself that virginity is a social construct. It’s not going to be a big deal, it’s like...what did her high school health substitute once say? Like hugging, only wetter? 

When she decides she absolutely can’t work on her paper anymore, it’s four o’clock, and she decides to take another shower. She really wants to feel fresh, and not have Brittany be grossed out by her vagina or anything, so she soaks under the water for a good half hour. When she finally gets out, she then begins to obsess about what to wear. They’re just going to be hanging out in the bedroom, so getting dressed up seems totally ridiculous—and not at all possible, based on her wardrobe—but she doesn’t want to look like she didn’t try at all. 

Digging through her underwear drawer, she’s kind of annoyed at herself that she didn’t go out and buy some kind of sexy underwear. Finally, she settles for a pair with The Avengers on them, and she slips into loose sweatpants and a Roswell t-shirt. She’s fine. She looks fine. Her hair is relatively tamed. She smells good. Brittany knows exactly who she is, and nothing about this is going to be weird at all. 

I’m back from doing stuff with Artie. Brittany texts her. I know you’re busy, but I’m around whenever you’re done working.

You can come over. Santana texts back. I just finished with everything I’ve got to do.

Two minutes later, Brittany knocks on the door with a bag over her shoulder, and it immediately makes Santana laugh. She really did bring candles, and also, because she knows it serves to calm Santana down, the DVD of Carol that they’ve already watched together no less than six times. While Santana stands around awkwardly, Brittany gives her a kiss, and then sets about putting the candles on her desk and dresser and lighting them. They order their sushi and eat it on the floor, and then, when they’re finished, Santana looks at her.

“What do we do now?” Santana asks, feeling like a total basket case.

“I think we should put the movie on, and lay down. Are you good with that?”

“Yeah, uh huh. Really good with it.”

Brittany gets the DVD going, and Santana has an internal debate with herself about whether to get under the covers, or lay on top of them like they usually do. She doesn’t know how fast they’re going to progress from movie watching to sex, and the idea of doing it on top of her comforter kind of freaks her out, so she decides to just pull it all the way back, and lay down on the sheets. She can feel Brittany watching her, but she doesn’t say anything. She just turns off the lights, and climbs up into the bed next to her, making her usual cradle with her arm for Santana’s head.

By the time Carol and Therese begin their road trip together, Brittany has begun massaging Santana’s neck. Santana knows she’s tense, and the motions do wonders for calming her down. She wants this, she wants this so badly, she just has to get out of her own way in order to make it happen. 

“This okay?” Brittany checks in with her, and Santana nods.

“You can kiss me if you want to.”

“Well, I always want to do that.” She laughs, shifting so she’s laying on top of Santana, and can kiss up her neck and to her mouth. “Stop me if I go too far.”

“I want you to go too far tonight.”

“I want you to set the pace, Santana. I want you to be the one who undresses me, and who asks me to take your clothes off.”

“Okay. Let’s just...kiss for a little while first.”

While Brittany kisses Santana, Santana lets her hands roam Brittany’s clothed body. She was always afraid of touching too much, of giving mixed messages about what she wanted, but tonight, she wants Brittany to get that message. She wants to slide her hands up under Brittany’s shirt, and feel that no bra keeps her from squeezing her breasts. She wants to feel the warm heat that comes from between her legs, even with the barrier of flannel pants between them. She wants to feel everything about her, because she’s falling for her, and all she wants is to fall harder.

Somewhere in the background, the movie ends, and Brittany gropes around to plug her iPod into Santana’s speaker. The music plays softly in the background, and abruptly, Santana sits up. She looks deeply into Brittany’s eyes, and her fingers play at the hem of her t-shirt. In her mind, it’s like she’s warring with herself about whether to do that yet, but eventually, her hormones win, and she tugs Brittany’s shirt over her head, leaving her topless in the cool of the room.

“Wow.” Santana gasps, unsure of what else to say. “Seriously, wow.”

“You’re cute.” Brittany laughs. “And you look really sexy right now.”

“Me?”

“No, the other girl that’s sitting in front of me with swollen lips and messy hair.” She teases, as Santana plays with her own shirt.

“You can take this off.”

Once Brittany gets Santana’s shirt off, and unhooks her bra, Santana lays back down on top of Brittany. The sensation of their nipples touching sends a jolt straight through Santana, and she lets out a small moan. She has it in her head that nervous as she is, she wants to be the one to initiate this, and after a long while of kissing again, she tugs at the drawstrings on Brittany’s pants. She’s awkward in getting them down, but eventually she does, and breathes a sigh of relief that Brittany is not completely clean shaven either. 

Her hands are shaking as she strokes the insides of Brittany’s thigh, and she can’t seem to steady them. She’s so afraid that she’s going to be bad at this, that she thinks she might actually be making herself bad. Brittany gives her a gentle kiss, and Santana sucks in a breath, remembering how much she cares about her, remembering how much she wants to do this. It’s just sex. It doesn’t have to be a life or death situation, but she’s freaking out, and she just wants to calm down.

“We can still stop, Santana.” Brittany pants. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“I want to.” Santana breathes, bringing her hand up higher. “I just don’t want to be bad at it.”

“Just touch me like you’d touch yourself.”

“I...don’t.” She confesses.

“Ever?” Brittany lifts her head up, and Santana feels her ears flame. 

“No.”

“So you’ve never...”

“No.” Santana shakes her head, feeling embarrassed even discussing it. 

“Lay back.” Brittany directs her. “Is it okay if I do this first?”

“Uh huh.” She nods, leaning back into the pillows.

Gently, Brittany slides down her sweatpants, and Santana sees the curve of her smile when she gets to her underwear. Santana covers her face with her arm, but Brittany removes it, kissing her forehead before tickling up her thighs and slipping her fingers through her wet sex. Hissing at the sensation, Santana doesn’t break eye contact with Brittany, and Brittany gives her a big grin. She varies her touch, and Santana squirms a little, unsure of what her body is doing.

“Do you like it when I touch you like this?” She whispers in Santana’s ear, and Santana can only nod.

She melts into the pillows, unable to comprehend each touch any longer, as it hurts a little. Instead, she focuses on the coil in the pit of her belly, getting closer and closer to snapping, and when it does, she’s taken by surprise with the force of it. Brittany continues her ministrations, even when Santana’s body is shaking, and Santana weaves her hands through her hair, pulling her in for a long and passionate kiss. Her chest swells with the strangest feeling, but she can only push Brittany onto her back, laying her sweat damp body over her, and trailing her hands down her bare stomach.

“I need to do that to you.”