#slightly painful to drink because carbonation does that to me

[kerosene-in-a-blender]

I do love Critical Role's decision to promote The Needle and Thread Candela Obscura episodes by releasing cocktails themed to the characters. Firstly because it's just fun and secondly because it actually says so much about the characters. Nathanial's is a boilermaker, a working class cocktail that is also specified to be made with cheap whiskey, which says a lot when contrasted with Nathanial's upper class background. Beatrix's is a mix of whiskey, honey syrup, and lemon, the same ingredients used to make hot toddies which are generally used as a curative, hinting at how Auntie Bee sees herself as a caretaker for the younger generations

I'm very excited to find out what Sean, Dr. Jean, and Marion get

[beesspacedotorg]

Romance is Doomed (Lie)

Summary: your parents tumultuous relationship has given you very little hope and expectations for your own. your boyfriend, Seungmin, seems determined to change that ... at least until he forgets an important romantic holiday. 4.2k

Warnings: angst. fluff. Kim Seungmin. porn. insecure reader. edging. no body type or pronouns mentioned. bad (?) parents. I wrote this based on a very sad conversation my parents had, so reader has mommy and daddy issues (double whammy). reader is insecure and at one point starts waxing poetic about being unlovable (????) but Seungmin calls them out on it so dw. This is my first time writing Seungmin so ... he might be a little ooc.

note: I don't really have an explanation for this. my parents made me sad so I wrote a fanfiction about Kim Seungmin to make me feel better. This is incredibly self indulgent, so if you don't like it that's okay. this is literally in my google docs as "This is for me and if you don't like it, sucks" so.

You know that it’s his job, so you can never get mad at him for it, not really. That would be irrational, and crazy, and you are neither of those things- or, not enough of those things to kick up a fuss. Still, when you hear him say it something in your chest pangs and you are left with a weird, hollow emptiness that you have no name for.

“Who’s your valentine?” Everyone is asking him, he’s an idol, it’s his job.

“Stay!” He smiles cutely and it squints his eyes slightly as he does. You can see his perfectly white and perfectly aligned teeth on your phone and you pause the video to switch to a different app instead, but your feed is perfectly curated to show you videos and pictures of your boy and his group, so all you see is him and that damned clip from that damned video.

You’re launched back to a conversation you’d had with your parents. It was in jest, you weren’t serious, but the tone of the day shifted drastically after you’d asked it.

“Mom, who’s your Valentine?” You were drinking the soda you’d just refilled and wincing slightly at the carbonation as you walked towards the car.

“No one, your Dad hasn’t asked me yet.”

“Dad, are you and Mom each other's Valentines?” He’s opening the door as you ask.

“No.” You can see your mom’s face fall, and for the rest of the day there’s a kind of gray cloud hanging over your parents. That moment sticks with you, and every year you think about it.

You and Seungmin are different though, you’re absolutely positive that he loves you. You’re absolutely positive that he cares about you and wants you around, you’re absolutely positive that if he wanted to get rid of you, he would. But he hasn’t, so you trust that he wants you around. But, this is his job. This is his job and you knew what you were getting into when the two of you started dating, so you can’t be mad at him, you won’t be mad at him.

-

“How are things at home?” You’re on the phone with your mother, you call her once a week. No matter what she’s put you through, she’s still your mother and you still love her, so you call.

“Oh, the usual. Your Dad is being. You know.” She sounds sad as she says it, and the worst part is that you do know. Crotchety and mean and in pain and cruel. So, you do know, and you feel bad for your mom when she says it. She is his wife, and he cannot spare her a drop of kindness.

The call ends, as it always does, with one of you saying something cutting and the other hanging up without responding to the “I love you” at the other end of the line. You look at your calendar. Valentine’s Day is tomorrow and he still hasn’t asked you. Your mom says he might just assume that you two are each other’s Valentine’s because you’re together, you say that it would still be nice if he asked. Your mom tells you not to hold your breath. You tell her that you aren’t planning on it.

-

It took the two of you a while to get together, longer than it should have, probably. But, as in all things, you are naturally distrustful of the intentions of strangers, or strangers-turned-friends-turned-? so you avoided the topic any time he would try and hint at it.

“I have two tickets to the Giants game tonight!”

“Sick! Those are hard to come by, Seungminnie! I hope you and Jeongin have fun.”

“Well, actually-”

“Hey! Did I ever tell you about this thing I saw the other day?”

When you did finally stop avoiding it, he asked you why, and you told him it was stupid, and he said nothing can be stupider than the time he and Felix managed to over whip the eggs for their souffle pancakes, truly a feat considering the fact that the eggs they were using were cold.

“I like you a lot,” you’d said. “I like you a lot and it feels like the love I have for you is replacing the air that I breathe, and I know, one day, you’ll get tired of me and my sadness and my everything, and I’d rather not have to spend years of my life filling in the hole that you’ll leave with foam that’ll collapse come morning.”

He’d paused for a moment, and you’d looked at the ground.

“I don’t want you to get tired of me and leave. I don’t want to be afraid you’ll leave so I do it first and regret it days later. I don’t want you to get tired of me and stay only to make jabs at me until I am nothing but a pasta strainer masquerading as a person.”

He’d frowned at you.

“Do you really think that little of me?”

“What?”

“Do you think that I would walk away like that? That I wouldn’t put in effort to stay, or to make you stay? That I would hate you so much that I would share a bed with you and hurt you at the same time?”

“No, but-”

“Listen,” he grabs your hands, “I’m not entirely sure why you think the way that you do about these things, and I won’t promise that I won’t hurt you- I’m not that stupid. But I promise that I’ll try not to, that I’ll make it up to you if I do. But you have to promise me something too, okay?”

“What’s the promise?”

“Don’t think of me that way. I’m mean, sure, but I’m not evil.”

“It’s not that I think you’re evil-”

“But I’m the one doing those things to you, right? In your head, it’s me? Whether you deserve it or not, I’m the one doing it.”

“... I see your point.”

“Good, I was running out of emotionally intelligent things to say. If you hadn’t been worn down we would’ve had to rain check this conversation for another day.” You laugh at him and he holds your hand.

“Your whole speech was really poetic, by the way, how long have you been sitting on that?”

“How long have I been alive?” He laughs, because he was supposed to, but he places a kiss on your temple too. And there’s a moment where you think that romance isn’t doomed, and, maybe, neither are you.

-

The first time you and Seungmin have sex, you spend the whole time worrying if he secretly finds you gross and disgusting. Well, you try to, but at that point, he’s gotten pretty good at telling when you’re writing heavy prose in your head and he then does his absolute best at making you lose your mind with pleasure. He succeeds.

“What were you thinking about?” Is what he says while he’s testing the shower water to make sure it’s hot enough to keep you warm. You’d tried to find a happy middle once, while you were showering together (In the dark, because “your eyes hurt”. You just weren’t ready for him to see you naked.) and goosebumps had broken out across your skin almost immediately, you’d shivered so hard it sent your teeth chattering, and your lips had started turning blue. When the two of you got out and Seungmin noticed, he’d said that you two would just shower together at temperatures comparable to the lakes of hell and he’d get over himself.

You shake your head at him. He won’t like your answer. He asks you this often, when you shrink in on yourself, and when you tell him, he always looks a little sad. But you don’t like to lie, and it’s bad manners to keep things a secret from your partner, so you tell him.

“I was worried you thought I was like, I dunno. Ugly, or something.” He deadpans at you. You worry that he’s mad. He huffs and drags a hand down his face.

“I’ve never come so hard in my life and you think that I’m not attracted to you? I came so hard I nearly blacked out, came so hard I think I told you that I loved you and you think that I think you’re ugly.” You feel slightly chided. He grabs your hand and gently guides you into the shower.

“Just because you feel that way about yourself doesn’t mean that I do.” He’s looking into your eyes as he says it, tucking your hair out of the way because it doesn’t need to be washed yet while he reaches behind you to grab the body wash. You gape at him like a fish.

“Close your mouth,” he nudges your jaw shut gently, “you don’t want to catch flies.”

You have something new to think about.

-

241302 11:37 am

Seungminnie?

eunming

no

seunmind

no!

having trouble yoebo?

ah shit

haha! yoebo

-_-

what did you even want

I love uou

yoo

yo

Jesus Christ

YOU

cringe

:( 

-

Your boy isn’t one for romance and displays of affection, you know that. But you’ve had such an awful and weird day that you can’t brush off what he says like you normally would. It’s not even noon and yet everything that could throw you off the wheel emotionally has. Like they all took turns, throwing you off, dragging you back in, and repeating it until you were a nice, buttery consistency.

He’s busy though, work and schedules and being an idol, so you reply with your usual sad face and nothing else and take a nap. Naps always fix things.

-

241302 11:45am

jagi?

is everything okay?

have fun doing whatever it is then

i enjoy being around you most of the time!

-

241302 1:27pm

hannie showed me this video

well

he didn’t show me per se

he showed linohyung and i was being nosy

but anyways

it was this cat that was very small

has an outrageous win/loss ratio for hunts

i think you would like it!

it’s called a

sorry i had to ask hannie its name again

the black footed cat he says

-

241302 4:15pm

hihi

you havent texted all day

are you gaming again kkkk

i was going to come over but i dont want to interrupt

should i just stay and game with yongbokkie???

maybe if we play genshin i’ll see you

we can finally co-op!

-

241302 5:27 pm

ahh

youre not on genshin :(

are you playing something else

jagi?

hmmm

make sure you eat and use the bathroom kkkkk

you always forget when you get sucked in

-

You’re jolted awake by a very loud and rough knock on your front door. Also by the sound of your phone ringing incessantly. You answer the phone first.

“Hello?” Your voice is slightly panicked, no one ever calls you save for when it’s an emergency, so you’re half expecting someone to be dying or dead when you pick up. You’re halfway out of bed and scanning your floor for a pair of pants when the banging on your door stops and you register the voice on the other end of the phone.

“Did you change your lock?”

“Did I- Seungmin, what?”

“My key doesn’t work anymore.” He sounds like he’s pouting.

“The building changed it recently. Something about security measures or whatever.”

“Ah. Come open the door.” You’re opening the door as he says it, rubbing your eyes and blinking at him.

“Were you asleep?” He’s toeing his shoes off. He has something behind his back.

“Yeah.”

“Explains why you didn’t answer your texts, then. I got worried.” He kisses the side of your face.

“Seungmin, what on earth is in your hands right now?” He looks down.

“Keys and my phone.” You stare at him.

“The other one, genius.”

“Yes, I like to think I am. Thank you.” You keep staring. He sighs. He hands you a thing of your favorite candy with a note that says “more to follow” attached.

“It’s come to my attention-”

“Was it Chan? Or Changbin, this time?” He glares slightly.

“It’s come to my attention, and I realized this all on my own with no outside help-”

“Sure.”

“With some outside help-”

“Better.”

“That tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, and some people enjoy being asked by their partners if they will participate.”

“Is this you asking?”

“I’m getting there!” He takes your hands the best he can while you’re still holding the candy and the note and looks at you again.

“I am sorry I didn’t ask sooner. I will ask sooner next year and the year after that and the year after that and so on and so forth. But!” He gets down on one knee. You kick him slightly with your foot.

“Unless you’re proposing, you better stand back up.” He stands back up.

“Will you be my Valentine?” You can feel your eyes water.

“If I have to.” You roll your eyes for show. Seungmin stands still for a moment.

“Is that how I sound to you?”

“Sometimes.” He raises an eyebrow. “Most of the time.”

“I am hilarious.” You roll your still-wet eyes as you open the candy.

“That’s not the whole gift.”

“I gathered, there’s a note that says so right here.” He huffs at you, giving you that deadpan stare again. He told you once that you’re one of the few people he’s met who can give and take his sarcasm in equal measures, you told him that was the nicest thing he’s ever said to you, he hit you with a pillow.

He doesn’t answer, instead he pulls you closer by the back of your neck and kisses you. Kissing Seungmin is always an experience, it always makes your head slightly fuzzy and makes your heart stutter in your chest. You think that if it was possible to die by kissing, you would’ve done it the first time you and Seungmin made out. As it stands, you just feel a little unsteady on your feet.

Seungmin pulls away and you catch yourself staring at his mouth, wet and pink and swollen just enough that it reminds you of when he had braces and his mouth was always slightly pushed out. He grabs your hand and leads you to your bedroom, placing his gifts for you somewhere on your dresser before he nudges you onto the bed.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” His hands are winding around your waist, pushing your shirt out of the way, and he’s kissing you again.

“You’ve told me before,” you say it against his mouth, hands coming to tangle in his soft, fluffy, recently dyed hair and you can feel the sigh he emits from where your chests are pressed together.

“Can I compliment you just once?” You smile, cheeky.

“No. Never.” He grumbles something about you being impossible as he tugs your shirt off, leaning down to mouth at your chest. You tug his hair lightly and he shoots a glare up at you.

“What.”

“It’s not fair that I’m not wearing a shirt and you are.”

“‘It’s not fair that-’ Be patient.”

“I thought this was a Valentine’s day gift.”

“It’s about to turn into a Valentine’s day ungift if you don’t stop.”

“What the fuck is an ungift?” He shoves his hand down your pants to shut you up.

“You always have to be so difficult,” you interrupt his sentence with a choked off moan. “Can’t ever just be good for me, can you? Always have to fight me every step of the way.” You shake your head at him, denying it.

“Don’t lie, you’re doing it right now. You’re lucky today is a holiday, or I really would turn this into whatever the opposite of a gift is.”

The tone shift would’ve given you whiplash if you had enough mental facilities left to think, or if this wasn’t so on par with what you expect from him. Seungmin likes to keep you on your toes, sometimes letting you push without any retaliation, sometimes letting you get away with nothing at all. It seems he’s more merciful today, and you pull him close for a “thank you” peck that soon turns into something more.

“Seungmin, please-”

“Desperate. You’re always so desperate.”

“You’re being mean.”

“Am I?” The hand that’s touching you slows down and you whine at him. “Am I being mean to you?” He tilts his head to the side, falsely curious and fully condescending. He adds a fake pout for good measure.

“I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be apologizing after all. I should be nicer to you, shouldn’t I?” He’s cooing slightly at you, and you know he’s not being genuine, but you really just want him to go back to touching you like he was earlier, so you pout back and nod. He gives you a kiss on your downturned mouth and picks his pace back up.

Soon enough, you’re forgetting that he was ever being devious in the first place and then you’re spilling on his fingers. You’re brutally reminded when he keeps going, when he pins down your hands as they try to push him away, when he bullies his stupidly slender hips between your thighs so you can’t close them. It feels like your nerves are on fire, but at the same time you want more. You’re cumming again and tears spring to your eyes at the confusing sensation of too much and not enough and you can vaguely hear Seungmin mumbling empty platitudes at you through the sharp ringing in your ears.

There’s a brief pause where he shoves your bottoms and underwear off, mad about them being in his way, and then the confusing feeling is back again as his hand returns.

“Seungminnie, Seungmin, I can’t, I can’t.” You’re thrashing around hard enough that you’ve accidentally kicked the comforter off the bed.

“You can. I know you can. Just this last one, okay, baby? And then you can have whatever you want.” You know he would stop if you wanted him to, but you don’t really want him to. You want him to make you come a third time on his fingers and then you want to do it on his cock. His stupidly perfect cock.

Sometimes, when you’re busy waxing poetic about love and Seungmin and life, you think about how the two of you were most certainly made for each other. How Seungmin was made to fit you in all the ways that you were made to fit him and that whatever force brought you together made his cock with you in mind. The way it fits inside you and gives you that almost-too-full feeling without ever being too much always makes your head spin and you clench involuntarily at the thought of it even now. It doesn’t escape Seungmin’s notice, because of course it doesn’t, and he laughs a little at you.

He stops laughing when you come on his hand again, and eases you through it until you're twitching away from him and whining and then he’s kissing the space between your eyebrows and shucking off his own clothes.

You spend a minute just staring at him. He’s beautiful. You think he’s the most handsome and perfect man in the world and he has the audacity to walk around saying that he’s just “decent.” It’s moments like these where you finally understand what he gets all pissy about when you say you don’t like the way you look.

You’re drawn back into reality when you see him wrap one of his beautifully huge hands around his dick and you whine at him.

“What now?” The words are meant to be sharp but he’s too out of breath when he says them, so you brush it off.

“You said I could have whatever I wanted and I want your cock!” You sound petulant, even to yourself. “You can’t- Seungmin!” He huffs and drops his hand from himself and you can see his muscles tense with how hard he’s trying to give you what you want.

“Needy and desperate. You came three times and I can’t even come once before you’re begging for more.” He’s sliding into you as he says it, wincing as you tighten in sensitivity and stilling with the effort of not coming too soon. You nod at him anyways, finally agreeing to the things he’s saying. If he asked you to jump out of an airplane with no parachute right now, you’d probably say yes, as long as he would finally start fucking you.

“Mhm. Want you- want you all the time. Need you all the time.”

“Yeah? All the time?” His hips are sloppy and uncoordinated as he fucks into you, but you wouldn’t be able to handle much anyway with how sensitive you are, so you’re grateful that Seungmin has lost his composure.

“All the time.”

“Guess that makes you a slut then, hmm?” You huff, gathering as much of your shot coordination as you can to weakly hit him in the chest.

“No. Only want- I only want you.” He coos, softening.

“Yeah? Only me?” You nod. “Does that make you my slut then?” You shake your head. “No? What are you then, hmm?” You’re not sure, but you know that you love him, and the force of your love for him shakes every atom in your body if you think about it too long.

“I love you.” It’s all you can say, so it’s all that comes out of your mouth and Seungmin kisses your face because he can’t aim for a specific spot with how the two of you are moving and you know that he understands you because he always does.

“I love you, too. Love you so much. I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.” You let out a slight sob against his mouth and he shushes you.

“Pretty, you’re so pretty, baby. I love you so much.” He’s muttering it against your skin, hips meeting yours over and over until you’re tightening around him with an orgasm that’s almost too much to handle and he’s spilling into you too.

There’s a moment where the two of you just sit there, panting and breathing each other’s air, stuck together with sweat and cum and Seungmin’s dick that’s still inside of you and then your lip is wobbling and tears are spilling hot and fresh down the sides of your face.

“Woah, woah what’s wrong? My dick game isn’t that bad, is it?” You shake your head at him and tug him down for a hug. He lets out a noise as he’s flattened against you and his face is smushed against the bed. He has to move his head to the side to avoid suffocating, so his breath is hitting the inside of your ear and you move your head away because it’s very uncomfortable. He wraps his arms around you the best that he can from your position and when his dick slips out, you whine.

“Listen, I would totally love to still be inside you right now, but I think my dick might fall off, so just gimme a minute, yeah? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I thought you forgot.”

“Forgot- oh. About Valentine’s? I might’ve forgotten to ask you to be my Valentine, but I didn’t forget about the holiday. I was actually strong-arming Channie hyung into letting me skip out on our schedules tomorrow. I was- I am, gonna spend the day with you.” His voice is low because of how close he is to your ear, but yours isn’t when what he says makes you cry harder.

“Everyone always forgets.”

“Not me. Not me, baby. I have to live up to my title of most dedicated boyfriend, I can’t just forget about holidays.”

“Who even,” your breath catches because of your tears as you start to calm down, “who even gave you that title?”

“It’s not important.”

“Seungmin.”

“... it was Hannie.” You let out another cry, but you’ve calmed down enough that this one is for show.

“I can’t believe,” your breath hitches again, “I can’t believe you’re gonna leave me for Han Jisung, ace of Stray Kids.”

“Yeah,” he turns his face flat. “I am, unfortunately. Sorry to break it to you.”

“That’s okay,” you turn your tear-stained face to look at him, smirk stretching across your mouth, “I’ll just go and date Stray Kids’ best vocalist. Bang Christopher Chan.” 

“Yah! You said you stopped having a crush on him!”

“And you said you wouldn’t leave me for one of your members!” He huffs and hides a smile in your shoulder as he moves to the side of you to hug you better.

“I love you. I really do,” he says. He’s moved your head to the side so you’re looking into his pretty brown eyes as he says it.

“I love you, too.” You do, you really do. You hope he can feel it from where he’s touching your skin. You hope he can feel it even when he’s nowhere near you. He smiles at you, and you think that he can. You think that he knows how much you love him and he loves you with the same sort of ferocity. You look at him and you think that romance isn’t doomed, and neither are you.

[aching-tummies]

If I was your partner...I'd bind you. Arms behind your back or tied to an armrest or something. I don't got a preference for what state your stomach is in except maybe an extreme one (hungry, stuffed, sick, etc.). I want you moaning and squirming and begging for rubs. Maybe I will grant them...but the more sadistic part of me wants you on the floor, arms bound to a table leg, with my sock-clad foot prodding into your tummy causing you to moan and something to happen in that gut gu yours.

I wonder if cradling my stomach when it hurts actually does anything. Like…I instinctively try to at least put my hands on it when it starts to ache in public…but it still hurts. Would it hurt even more if I didn’t have anything pressing against it?

My musings gave you the perfect excuse to combine our mutual love for tummy kink with your binding kink. The blindfold was the first to come on. It’s just a scrap of fabric from my sewing projects and not necessarily a true blindfold. The low thread-count is one thing, so I can see silhouettes if I try hard enough. That and the little slivers caused by the gap created by the bridge of my nose…but those slivers barely allow me to see my front if I try hard. More strips of fabric fasten my arms behind me. Not in a way that gets me to cramp and ache, but enough that I can’t bring my arms up to my stomach. I’m leaned up against a leg of our dining table with my legs sprawled out in front of me and my arms fastened to the leg. If I start to panic I could easily push the table up and slip my bonds out from under it, or I could use the safe-word.

A deep, angry grumble quakes in my tummy. It’s audible and it brings an intense cramp with it. I bite back a moan, my eyes squeezing shut against the intensity of the cramping ache as it builds and builds to a head. My arms tense, fighting the bonds as my body instinctively tries to reach over to soothe my upset tummy.

“Ugh…babe?” I don’t even know if you are in the room. You made me ingest a bunch of stuff and I’ve been left to sit for a long while. The plan today was to cook up a stomach ache and we both knew that I’d subconsciously avoid eating stuff that was guaranteed to give me a tummy ache, so we sort of removed my autonomy with the blindfold. “Babe—urgh…ouch—i-it’s s-starting—ah! Ow!” A sharp growl splits the air and I can see my stomach clenching and convulsing as my body squirms involuntarily.

You didn’t just stuff me, but you were careful with the combinations to ensure that it’d cause a stomach ache. There was orange juice to start, something I usually avoid because I’m not a big fan of tart and sour flavors. At least two glasses went into my gut via a straw to start and I was sated after the two glasses. Of course, one never says ‘no’ to pizza. The next thing to nudge my lips ended up being a pizza. You’d give me a few bites and let me swallow, pausing periodically to give me a sip of something through a straw pressed to my lips to ensure my mouth didn’t get too dry. Sometimes it was water, other times it was some carbonated drink. I don’t know how many slices of pizza I ended up eating, but it felt like a lot. The liquid travelling up the straw eventually transitioned into milk tea and my dread ramped up in tandem with the pressure in my tummy as I thought about the lake of acidic orange juice it would clash with. My stomach churned as I continued to suck on the straw and that definitely didn’t help matters. Maybe it was my overactive imagination, but I could feel chunks bobbing around in my gut and I’m not entirely sure all those chunks were pizza.

You left me alone after the feeding. Tempted as you were to put your hands on my belly and slosh it around, that would defeat the purpose of our little experiment. Now we wait. You had retreated out of my sight (not hard to do) and left things to stew.

I sat there with nothing to occupy my mind except for the sensations in my tummy. It didn’t take long. My stomach cramped a little, but it was more discomfort than an actual ache. That went on for about twenty minutes. I guess those minor cramps were my body’s way of churning the mess in my belly. The aching intensified as the mess got more and more churned around. The milk and cheese reacting with the acidic orange juice and curdling terribly. My intestines were alright with the liquidy orange juice dripping into it b, but the easy-to-digest liquid soon stopped dropping in, replaced by a nasty, semi-solid glop of curdled garbage. My intestines reacted almost immediately. Peristalsis stalled for a little while, allowing the nastiness to stew for a bit. When it re-started it was clearly having trouble finding the right rhythm to get the mess moving.

I needn’t have called out. You’ve been watching from the other side of our combined living/dining area. You knew the stomach ache was forming when my mewls and bitten back moans joined the griping grumbles from my unhappy tummy. The noises had started out liquid-y and clear, sounding infrequently and gradually morphed into a sticky cacophony of nastiness. Tell me you’re sick without telling me you are sick. Came to mind. The noises from my gut just screamed ‘sickly’ to you and you were tempted to find me a bucket, but you didn’t want to miss a moment of the action. Not like I’m sitting on carpet—the smooth flooring is easy to clean, even if it’ll be a bit of a pain to do so if I hurl.

“Ugh—urlp—b-babe? Sweetie—it hurts! It really hurts—ulp—” Those aborted hiccups sound wet. Forget ‘if’ I hurl, that sound is basically a guarantee that we’ll be cleaning our floors. Well, if it’ll end up being a mess anyway. A smile forms on your lips as you quietly pad your way over to where I’m bound. Your sock-clad feet make no noise as you creep closer. “Ullf…uhhmm…ugh…’m so full—urp—s-so sick..oohh…” A moan and a coo at directed at my tummy reverberates, blending with a smooth growl from my guts. I’m still completely unaware of your presence.

“Ah—Oww—URLPK!” I was unaware of your presence until a sharp pressure drove into my bloated belly as you nudged your sock-clad foot into the crest of it. Something sour and chunky surged up my esophagus. My surprised gasp at the sudden pressure was just enough to keep the sick from coming all the way out but the back of my throat burns as my stomach churns violently. “Ugh…babe…that hurts. Ugh…forget the stupid experiment. Untie me. I need to rub—my stomach hurts.” I hiss and bite back something as my stomach clenches tightly. You watch me arch slightly, my stomach seeming to seek out any sort of comforting pressure and finding none. For a second you entertain the idea of alien chest-bursters or something from the way my arching spine brings my belly up and out for a moment before my straining body goes back down. Maybe that was an attempt at nudging up the table, but I know you are here and still haven’t used a safe-word so the scenario is still going.

While you were feeding me, you had sneakily unbuttoned my jeans and unzipped my fly on a whim. The experiment was for a belly without any sort of comforting touch. I wasn’t willing to go naked for the experiment so the undone jeans would have to do.

My breathing comes quickly and in short gasps. My stomach heaves and squirms with my breaths. It’s almost like the labor videos you’ve seen before. You nudge at my stomach, prodding it with your big toe. I groan again and shift, seemingly trying to get away from your foot. I end up pressed against one of the dining chairs that has been tucked in, not really offering me much more room to go. I’ve got you on one side and the chair on the other—talk about a rock and a hard place.

Moving was a bad idea. The movements jostled my already upset guts and the churning intensifies. The cramping pains shoot through every which way and my arms continue to fight the restraints, my body desperately trying to get any sort of comforting pressure to my sick tummy.

A warm pressure pushes at my belly. It’s your foot. You run your foot over my stomach with minimal pressure. It’s still more than a hand would do with a lazy rub because legs are generally stronger than arms. The constant pressure of your foot squeezes my guts uncomfortably and shifts things around. I feel the semi-solid mush occupying my duodenum get squeezed, seemingly pushing out of both sphincters at either end at the same time. My stomach revolts. The sensation of forced back-flow upsets the swirling contents. More gastric contents work their way up my esophagus. I feel the level rise to mid-chest and climb and ebb. My aborted groans are cut off as I try to fight the vomit.

Your foot leaves my belly just as the level reaches the back of my throat. You were worried because I had seemingly stopped breathing. Once the pressure leaves, the sour liquid falls back into my stomach. I feel my stomach expand with it as my abdominals barely unclench in time to accommodate for the returning contents. Once everything is back in my belly I finally trust myself to let out a groan and to take a deeper breath.

“Ugh…I want to rub my tummy so bad. ‘m so sick. Hurts so much. Tummy…sick…too full…too much…ugh…” I’m mumbling. Clearly, the ordeal has been overwhelming for me. A part of you worries that we’ve gone too far now. Maybe this was too much and it broke me enough to forget the safety checks we have in place? You reach for the blindfold, finding it a little damp with tears. It worries you.

Settling to sit down on the floor with me, you reach over and gently rub my tummy. I moan softly, finally feeling some relief. My stomach tenses at the first touch but gradually unclenches under the comfort of your massage.

You can feel the sickly churning and sloshing of my guts. You can feel it each time my duodenum spasms—taking in new contents and occasionally allowing back-flow that upsets things all over again.

“Sweets…do you still want this?” You ask tentatively after I’ve been silent for a little while. It’s clear I’ve calmed down slightly from your massage.

“Hmm?” You can tell I’m out of it. Whether it’s a food coma, exhaustion, or me being too influenced by the scenario to be in the right state of mind—you don’t know. You reach over and begin to work on the strips of fabric securing my arms. It’s only because you are leaning in that you catch my words. “I want—I want it all out. Now. Please?” As my hands loosen, I reach over not for my stomach, but for your leg. Realization dawns. The game is still on…though this might be the big finish.

A dull but sudden pressure rattles me as you plant your foot solidly into my belly. It sinks in despite how full I am as my stomach-contents shoot up, up, and out. You hear the sound of something slapping at the back of my throat a millisecond before it splatters onto the smooth floors of our apartment. I’m on my knees and you are standing above me. Some of the sick inevitably got on your pant-leg and sock, but those can be cleaned. You nudge at the side of my belly with your foot, bringing up more sick.

Four productive heaves later I am left dry. My stomach aches something fierce. With a groan, I flop over to the side, barely avoiding the puddle of sick. My hair is definitely in it but I’m too exhausted to care. You tower over me, my back pressed up against your shins. You raise a foot and nudge it into my belly. I close my eyes as I feel your foot providing my clenching belly with a deep massage, deeper than anything hands could do. My stomach gripes and growls around your foot and you can feel the reverberations as you knead and churn it around. You press until you hear me gasp and push at your foot with my hands. You relent the pressure and offer the massage again, lulling me into a sense of security before you’ll inevitably do it again.

[peterrparrkerr]

Revoked consent - read on ao3

TW for rape/noncon

*-*

Peter's hands shake a little as he takes the offered glass from Tony. He gives a smile, hoping he doesn't look as nervous as he really is.

Its his first time being paid for sex, and he doesn't know why it's so daunting this time. Hes had sex before, he's fucked himself on a dildo on camera for money.

But this is the first time he's actually sold himself for it.

Tony had offered him an amount he couldn't refuse. Not only would he be able to pay three months of rent, but he'll be able to actually get groceries and still have enough money to live comfortably for a couple months after.

Tony had already deposited half of it into his account. Peter's throat had closed up when he'd seen it.

Tony sits down beside him on the couch with his own glass. Peter glances over at him, then down at the glass.

He had to act like he was old enough to drink. Tony didn't know he was only sixteen. He'd said he was twenty-three online. It was the only way he could get on the website.

"Drink," Tony commanded softly. Peter glances up at him before giving a small nod and brought the glass to his lips.

He could feel Tony watching him as he tipped the glass up. He held his breath -the scent of the alcohol making his nose burn- and swallowed quickly.

The burn and taste isn't something Peter's ever felt before. It feels like he's swallowed acid and the burning won't leave his tongue.

He chokes on a cough, trying desperately to act like its not as fowl as it really is. But the one cough opens up the gateway, and he's hacking out a lung, his eyes burning with tears.

"Not into the hard stuff, hmm?" Tony asked, sounding amused as he plucked the glass from Peter's hand.

He shakes his head, forcing himself to calm down. How fucking embarrassing.

"No, I'm sorry," he manages, wiping under his eyes.

"Dont be," Tony hummed, standing up and moving back to the bar. "Its an acquired taste."

Peter doesn't say anything. He watches as Tony reaches down behind the bar. Theres a distinct sound of a can being opened, the sizzle of something carbonated being poured into the glass, and then Tony was returning.

Peter's glass was fuller than before, darker and fizzy. "Try this."

Peter takes the glass, bringing it to his nose and sniffing it quietly. Its pepsi. He takes a tentative sip, all while Tony watches silently beside him, leaning back against the couch.

Peter takes a drink. The alcohol is hidden in the soda, the burn lost in the fizz, and he smiles gratefully at Tony.

"Thank you," he manages, nerves still closing around his throat in a vice-like grip.

He drinks more, feeling Tony's fingers brushing softly against the hairs at the back of his neck. It makes Peter shiver, his stomach rolling and threatening to bring up his lunch.

He's halfway through his drink when Tony sets his empty glass down on the coffee table.

He then takes Peter's glass and sets it down too.

"Come sit on my lap," he orders.

Peter's hands grow sweaty, and he awkwardly does as he's told, feeling like he's all limbs and no grace.

Tony's hands feel huge on his hips, fingers pressing into the softness of his ass while his thumbs hook over the front of his hip bones.

"You're tense," Tony hummed, squeezing Peter's hips. "Relax."

Peter gives a small nod, forcing himself to put his whole weight onto Tony's thighs. It makes the older man smile, and Peter fights back the urge to get up and run out of the penthouse.

"What- what would you like to do?" Peter asked, hiding his shaky hands by holding the back of the couch on either side of Tony's head.

"Hmm," Tony grins, his hands moving up and under Peter's shirt. They're warm against the bare skin of Peter's sides, and it makes him slightly nauseous.

"Why don't you let me be in control," he suggested. The idea made Peter's heart rate quicken, but he forced himself not to outwardly react.

Tony had paid him handsomely for this, and he was going to pay him more once this was over. This was just a job. Peter's had sex before. Hes had a job before. This was just- combining the two.

"All you have to do is follow my lead, okay, sweetheart?"

Peter swallows thickly before nodding. "Okay," he agrees. He can do that.

Tony smirks before lifting his hands higher, forcing Peter's shirt up and exposing his tummy to the cool air.

Peter lifts his arms, allowing Tony to pull the shirt completely off before returning them to the back of the couch.

"Kiss me."

Peter leans forward, kissing Tony hesitantly, softly. His goatee is scratchy, the shirt pricks of hair biting into Peter's soft skin.

He hates it. Hates how kissing Tony makes him feel. But he kisses him with everything he's got.

The man under him groans against his mouth and begins working Peter's fly open.

Peter pulls away, glancing down, opening his mouth to tell Tony he's changed his mind, when the man grabs him by the chin and forces their mouths together.

Peter forces himself to allow Tony to tug at his jeans and boxers. He even gets up to allow them to fall to his ankles.

He's mostly soft, and he wants nothing more than to hide himself away from Tony's eyes as he crawls back onto his lap.

Tears burn in his eyes, but Peter forces them away, leaning in and kissing Tony as the man's hands roam over his naked body.

His nakedness to Tony's suit is unnerving -the juxtaposition making Peter feel lesser than.

He tries to ignore it. Tries to ignore the hands kneading his bare ass, pulling him apart to expose more of him to the cold air of the penthouse.

Tony's tongue tastes like whiskey, and Peter pinches his eyes shut on the wave of nausea that curls in his gut.

"Up," Tony orders, shoving at Peter. He climbs up as quickly as he can, and struggles to breathe as Tony manhandles him onto the floor.

He's on his knees, bent over the cushions, his ass presented to Tony.

Peter struggles to level out his breathing. He pinches his eyes shut and lowers himself so his chest is pressed to the couch cushions, mostly to hide his face in his arms.

"Hmm," Tony hums approvingly, hands rubbing at Peter's ass. "You sure are a pretty little thing."

Thing.

Peter feels humiliated, on the verse of a panic attack. His knees hurt against the hard floor -he thinks it might be granite or even marble. Its cold.  He doesn't think he can go through with this.

But Tony's already lubing his fingers and pressing two inside. Peter bites back a sob, reminding himself this is only for the money.

This is a job. He can do this. Its one time, and after this, he'll leave and never see Tony again.

He'll delete his cam page, he'll cut off any ties to Tony. Its just one time.

Tony continues to finger him open, but Peter can tell he's becoming impatient. He winces as three fingers are shoved in, the back and forth much too rough for prep work. Thankfully, Peter had done a lot of it himself.

Tony's fingers leave his hole and Peter can't help the momentary relief that floods his system.

Its chased away with cold water though, when he hears the zip of Tony's pants and the snick of the lid popping on the bottle of lube.

Peter's heart lodges itself deep in his throat, and its suddenly all too much.

He pushes himself up off the couch, half turning. "Wait, Tony, I can't do this-"

Tony's hand shoves against his back, right between his shoulder blades and pinning him to the couch. "Don't be nervous," he orders.

Peter feels the head of Tony's cock nudge at his entrance and he lets out a whine, frightened and desperate all at once.

"Wait, Tony, stop," Peter gasped, fighting to push himself up. Tony only leans more of his weight onto his back, and shoves his cock inside in one quick thrust.

Peter yelps at the stretch and burn, thighs shaking as his muscles work to keep Tony out.

"There you go, relax, sweetheart, you're doing so well," Tony grunts, feeding more of his cock in until its flush, hips to Peter's ass.

Tears burn at Peter's eyes as he struggles against the weight on his back.

Tony's fucking huge -bigger than he thought he'd be. He feels split open, ripped at the seams. Its so painful, and Peter has to bury his mouth into the cushions to muffle his whines and mewls of pain.

"Ton-Tony I can't-"

"Sure you can," Tony huffed, beginning to thrust in and out. Peter wails at the sharp snap of his hips.

He cries openly against the pillow, chest heaving, body shaking.

Each thrust punches out a breathy "ah, ah, ah," from Peter, his gut twisting with a mix of pleasure and disgust.

"Listen to you," Tony hummed, sounding almost desperate, hands holding Peter down. "Those noises. God, you're so tight, sweetheart. Taking my cock so well."

Peter chokes on a sob at those words, a string of babbled begging leaving his mouth, muffled by the leather couch cushions.

Tony must interpret the unintelligible babbling for something else, because he goes harder, thrusting faster, and Peter's back arcs, his head lifting off the couch on a shout.

"Please, please, please," Peter sobs, chest heaving. Tony pistons his hips, shoving Peter into the couch over and over in a disorienting pace.

Tony drives into him hard, burying himself as depe as he can go, and then pushing in further. Peter sobs against the pressure, being filled to the maximum.

And then Peter feels it. The unmistakable warm wetness that spreads inside him, coating his inner walls.

Peter whimpers as Tony punches his cock deep inside, pushing the cum deeper than Peter knew possible before pulling out.

Peter doesn't move, just tries to level his breathing. To collect himself before Tony seems his face.

"You going to cum for me, sweetheart?" Tony asks only seconds later. His hands are still pinning him down, but one now slids around Peter's front.

He doesn't get a chance to deny the man before a callused hand grips his cock and tugs painfully.

He yelps as his orgasm is yanked from him. Its not pleasurable in the slightest. It hurts so bad, Peter's eyes water again.

And Tony keeps milking him through it, wben when the last of it has dribbled to the floor. Peter reaches a hand down, whimpering and whining at the assault.

"Stop, stop!" He begs, stilling Tony's hand. "Please it hurts."

Tony stops, smoothing his hands over his belly and pressing a soft kiss to Peter's shoulder blades.

"Such a sensitive thing," he remarks. Peter buries his face in his arm. Tony gets to his feet then and steps away.

Peter reaches for his shirt on the couch and quickly pulls it over his head, hands still trembling.

He glances over to see Tony's back at the bar, filling a glass for himself.

Peter stands on shaky legs, stepping into his boxers and jeans and pulling them up before any of Tony's cum drips down his legs.

He tucks himself in and zips up before stepping into his shoes. His phone and wallet are still in his back pockets.

He glances up at Tony again, who's watching him over the rim of his glass. Peter doesn't know what to say, so he makes his way halting towards the door.

"The rest of your money will be deposited tonight," Tony said when Peter reached the door. Peter's gut twists, but he nods in thanks.

"I'd be more than happy to continue this partnership in the future," Tony hummed, just as Peter gripped the doorhandle that lead to the hallway. "Should you have need of extra money."

Peter doesn't acknowledge that. He slips out of the penthouse and into the hallway, making sure the door shuts behind him before rushing for the elevator, fresh tears blurring his vision.

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Riverdale//eyes bright, uptight, just girls

Request: Riverdale imagine the reader older sister who is a senior and is throwing a party and stuff and the reader parents want her to date this guy who she knows is no good and the reader doesn't want a boyfriend yet but her dad wants her to date the guy and stuff like that to call him son one day and stuff and the reader and her parents argue in the kitchen and the guy is trying to force her to and her older sister won't help at all and is being smug. U can think of an ending after that w. the core 4.

hey! trigger warning: parents not listening and a bitch of a sister, as well as a very rude boy. please don’t read if you think this may upset or trigger you. 

Parties have never really been your thing. They’re more more Sarah’s, if she isn’t attending one she’s throwing one, no matter if you’re parents have said she can or not. And because she’s the favourite, she always gets away with it and you’re stuck cleaning up. 

You think maybe it’s because your parents are big on parties, not high school ones, but just in general. They like any excuse to show off their perfect family and their perfect house and to parade you around their friends like show dogs. It’s their way of telling their friends that they’re better off than they are. 

Tonight however, it seems that luck isn’t on your sisters side. Because as soon as your parents walk through the front door, three days too early and are greeted with drunk kids spilling sticky beer all over the custom made rug, she is already scrambling to come up with an excuse as to why there are well over 150 teenagers all trying tarnish the family home. 

You watch Sarah practically jump over a sofa to stop them from walking in any further and the lively party soon dies as everyone watches Sarah and your parents have a staring competition. Sarah may have the edge because of how wide her eyes are. 

“Hiii, mom...dad.” She gulps and kicks a plastic cup underneath the sofa...as if that’s gonna convince them that the hasn’t invited most of the teenagers in Riverdale and let them run riot through the house.

You and Betty share a look and you feel her shuffle closer to you.

Despite it being your house, you still had to fight for a place on the couch, and when Betty turned up looking just as pleased as you were to be there, you gladly made a space for her. 

Betty had stayed by your side for the majority of the night, only getting up to get both of you drinks. She knows how much you hate parties, at least ones where your sisters in attendance which is most of them, and the two of you usually spend the night gossiping about the very large friendship group your sister has amassed. 

You watch your mom look around the living room and with each piece of beer stained furniture she see’s, her face falls more and more.

“Kitchen.” She stares straight at Sarah before pushing past her. 

“Now.” Your dad adds before following his wife.

Sarah follows your mom and dad into the kitchen, her head hung low as she shuffles through the crowd. They part for her, patting her shoulder and giving her sympathetic looks before the three of them disappear through the door. 

As soon as the kitchen door closes, the front one opens and the party spills out into the street. Drunk kids stumble back home, some laugh and some cry. Some stand at the bottom of the yard and puke while their friends rub their backs. A few of them have already passed out the grass in front of your house and you know as soon as your dads finished letting Sarah get away with murder, he’ll be turning the sprinklers on in order to get them to leave. 

Betty has already started to collect the rubbish strewn around her feet and you unenthusiastically join. The two of you don’t have to say anything, you’re always there to help the other clean up after yours sisters mess. Veronica and Archie soon join in and for a few minutes it’s actually surprisingly fun. 

There’s just you and your friends. Archie’s throwing rubbish at Veronica making her squeal and run away while you and Betty watch on in amusement. But every good thing has to come to an end and you hear the kitchen door creak before your dad’s head pops out around it. 

“Y/n, can you come here for a minute please.” He calls.

Betty grabs the rubbish you’ve collected and sends you a reassuring smile. You let out a loud sigh before accepting your fate and pushing the door open. 

Betty joins Veronica and Archie, all three of them watch the door swing a few times before shutting properly and they share a look. 

“Sarah’s an ass.” Archie mumbles and the two girls nod in agreement.

When you walk through the door, the room falls silent, and you feel the eyes of your entire family on you, watching you as you slowly walk towards them. 

Your mom rubs the side of her head, the migraine that made them come home early in the first place get stronger. And your dad rubs a hand over his face as he tries to figure out what to do and who to blame. 

“I told you, I did all of this so Y/n and Ben could get to know each other a bit better.” Sarah argues and your eyes widen. 

“What? I didn’t even know Ben was here.” You send her a glare and your parents look between the two of you. 

“Aw, that’s disappointing.” Somebody says behind you and you feel your skin crawl. Your shoulders hunch slightly and you swallow the lump in your throat before turning around and facing the green eyed boy. “Because I certainly noticed you.” He whispers and you have to stop yourself from puking. 

Ben.

Ben Anderson and his family are well known around Riverdale. Similar to the Blossom’s they’re crazy rich, crazy powerful and well versed in the world of criminal activity. At one point they owned half the town, but they’re slowly selling it off to private investors for a profit so they can go after Greendale next. 

His mom Sophia is ‘friends’ with basically everyone in town, however she is constantly bitching about them behind their back...including your own family. And it drives you mad to watch your mom bend over backwards in order to be invited into her very exclusive book club. 

And his dad, William is basically a carbon copy of your own. Business focused and a little bit absent. You only ever see William at parties, you’ve never once bumped into him at the grocery store which is very difficult to do in a town this small. 

But despite all their suspected crimes, Ben is by far the worst. 

Benjamin Alexander Anderson is the worst boy you have ever met. But for some reason he’s everybody’s favourite. He’s snobby, pretentious, creepy and a bully. But Sarah and her friends love him. And for some reason your parents also love him. It seems sometimes they love him more than they love you. 

It’s not uncommon for you to come home from hanging out with your friends and for him to be already sat at the dining room table with a grin too wide for his face while your parents motion for you to sit beside him. 

And thanks to Sarah constantly telling them how good it would be for the family if you and him were to get together, he seems to be around an awful lot more recently. 

‘think of the family’ 

‘think of your future’ 

‘think of how good it would look for us to be able to call an Anderson son one day and welcome him into the family.’ 

“I knew she wouldn’t agree to a date with him so I thought if I threw a party they could get to know each other a bit better in more of a natural environment. It’s just word got out and more and more people turned up and I couldn’t get them to leave. Nobody ever listens to me.” She says, her tone turning sickly sweet as she stares at your mom doe-eyed. 

Your mom sighs and her expression softens before she looks at her husband. Your dad looks between you, Sarah and Ben before also sighing. 

“Great.” You mutter. Another one won by Sarah. 

She sends you a sly smile and you glare in return but you’re soon interrupted by your dad coughing and the two of you turn your attention back to him. 

“Y/n.” He starts and by the tone of his voice you already know where this is going. This is his lecture tone, the one he uses when he’s trying to convince you that he’s helping but instead he actually just wants to help himself. “Why don’t you give Ben a chance. You could do a lot worse.” 

“Because I don’t want to. For the millionth time I don’t and I never will like him. I would genuinely rather stick a fork in a plug socket, be resuscitated and do it over and over again until I died a painful death, than spend more than two minutes with him.” 

“Y/n!” Your mom scolds. 

“Ouch.” Ben huffs and you send him a sarcastic smile. 

“Why can’t you just be more like your sister?” 

“What? And date anyone that gives her a hint of attention?”

“Y/n!” Your dad shouts.

“Mom!” Sarah practically screams. “Are you actually gonna let her talk to me like that.” 

“Calm down Sarah. Y/n, apologise to your sister.” 

“No.” 

“Y/n.” Your mom hisses and you huff at her loudly. 

“Fine...I’m sorry.” You say through gritted teeth. “Can I go to bed now?” 

“Not until we sort this out.” Your dad says. 

“I don’t and I never will want to date him.” 

“Come on. One date isn’t going to hurt. You never know, you actually might like me.” Ben says, and the smirk grows on his face as he sends you wink. 

“That’s very, very, very unlikely.” You deadpan and your mom tuts behind you. 

“Y/n, that’s rude.” 

“What’s rude is you trying to set me up with an asshole. I’ve told you before I don’t want a boyfriend. I’m only 17 and I have far more important things to focus on other than boys. So please just drop it.” You shout. 

“We just want what’s best for you.” Your mom pleads and you send a look to Sarah. 

She could stop all of this. She knows she could. She could convince them to think otherwise and they would. They’d drop it and you’d be able to go back to only mildly hating your family. 

But that’s not how Sarah works and so instead she just shrugs before sharing a smile with Ben. 

“No, you want what’s best for you.” 

“Y/n Y/l/n!” 

The kitchen door swings open and Veronica, followed awkwardly by Betty and Archie walk through it. Your mom opens her mouth, ready to argue some more but Veronica quickly interrupts before she can say anything rude. 

“Mr and Mrs Y/l/n. Has my dad told you about the latest deal he’s made?” Veronica cuts in. A bright smile on her face as she steps between you and your parents. Instantly your dad shuts up and his eyes lighten up as he and Veronica talk about the next dodgy dealing that Hiram Lodge is involved in.

You let out a breath of relief, and send a grateful smile towards Betty and Archie, who now both look a little more confident in their abilities to deescalate the situation. 

Archie directs his attention to Sarah and and Ben, both of whom looked like they’ve sucked on a lemon as they watch Veronica gracefully change the subject and bring your mom into her business conversation. 

“I think your brother’s waiting for you outside.” Archie tells Ben. “And if I were you, I’d leave with them.” His voice low as he takes a step towards him. Ben looks at Sarah, and then you before lastly at you parents. Sarah’s expression hardens as she shrugs at him and starts picking at her nails. 

You, Betty and Archie watch him leave, mumbling quietly under his breath, before Betty turns he attention to Sarah. 

“Hi Sarah!” Her tone seems happy, and if you didn’t know her you’d think that she was genuinely greeting a friend. However there’s something lurking just behind her eyes that seems more sinister and for the first time in a long time, Sarah actually seems a little scared. “Remember I’ve known you for a long time, and I know a few things that your mom wouldn’t be too pleased to find out. So why don’t you leave Y/n alone and I won’t tell anyone that you slept wit-” 

“Fine.” She says through gritted teeth. “Goodnight.” She says quickly before rushing out. 

“Hey, is it okay for Y/n to stay at mine tonight. My mom’s been asking about her for forever.” Veronica asks and your dad nods quickly. “Great! Y/n, let’s pack a bag.” She says before pushing you out of the door. Betty and Archie follow the two of you up the stairs, whispering to each other as they go.

You notice Sarah standing outside of her door but she disappears as you pass and a weight lifts off your shoulders. 

“Thanks guys.” You smile at your friends, happy to be in the comfort of you own room. “Betty? Who did Sarah sleep with?” 

“Oh, I have no idea. I just guessed that she’s done it with someone she shouldn’t have and I suppose I was right.” She grins making you laugh. “Now come on, let’s go sneak Archie into Veronica’s so we can all have a proper sleepover.” 

“It’s definitely not the first time she’s snuck him into her room.” 

“Shut up!” Veronica laughs and throws a pair of socks at you. “Why don’t we invite Jughead? Where is he?” 

“Do you honestly believe you’d see Jughead at a party, let alone a sleepover? He’s too busy writing or something.” Betty replies. 

“Yeah, but Veronica has a lot of spare rooms.” You wiggle your eyebrows and she pulls a face.

“Come on!” She huffs, pushing you gently. Archie dumps a load of clothes in your bag and quickly zips it up before throwing at you. You’ve never left your house quicker before, and as the four of you make your way down the street, Betty making a list of snacks to buy and Archie trying to convince Jughead to join you, you feel yourself smile properly for the first time in a long time. 

support my writing! if you want! 

[artificialqueens]

Me and You Together, 4/10 (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: fam this response is crazy it really is…thank u all so much for the love, kudos and comments, i’m so sorry if i’ve not managed to reply to urs yet but know that i’ve read them all and cherish every one and i will get round to replying and yelling some love and thanks at u soon!!! pls enjoy this chapter in which A'whora does not possess the flat’s shared brain cell at any point. that being said, i wish all the readers of this fic a very pleasant italicised ‘oh’ xo

last chapter: January-Tayce and A’whora still had unfinished business from a night out and a hungover morning in December.

this chapter: October- The gang make plans for their first year together, Tia gives everyone plans for the evening, and A'whora has a realisation that will change the dynamic of her friendship with Tayce forever.

***

“Bimini, what is it you’re actually doing?”

A’whora’s intrigued by the way her flatmate’s sitting on the sofa: legs crossed, notepad in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and looking deep in thought. They’ve not long since stretched over the smoke detector with a sock, having long since established nobody in the flat minds them smoking indoors as long as the windows are open. Lawrence is beside them on the other end of the sofa having been to all the lectures that’re required of her already today and has got a bright pink, blue and purple-flecked ball of yarn hanging from two knitting needles, with which she seems to be knitting some sort of cosy accessory. It’s a wholesome picture that’s playing out in front of A’whora, one that’s miles away from the raucous, drunk nights they’ve all shared in the first month of uni so far.

“Okay, here’s what it is,” Bimini starts, clicking their long nails together. “I am making us a freshers bucket list, and I want your input.”

“Ooh!” Lawrence perks up beside them, and A’whora, interest piqued, picks up the bowl of pasta, butter and cheese she’s spent all of five minutes making and crosses the room to sit beside her flatmates.

She knows it’s only been a month so far, but she really loves everyone she’s living with. For a start, there are four of them that take classes at the art college (the ‘art hoes’, as Tayce calls them), so they all get to walk to lectures together and hang about between classes and workshops with each other depending on how their days are going. Bimini is almost always in the flat, with not a lot of contact hours making up their journalism degree, so they’re a comforting presence for A’whora to come home to at whatever hour of the day, always asking how she is and always offering to make her coffee. Tia is sweet and funny (if ever-so-slightly grating to her at first) and they’ve bonded over being the only two flatmates seemingly able to keep the place clean and tidy. Lawrence is endearing and big-hearted, if A’whora spends half her life hoping that her next prank isn’t involving her in some way (Ellie is usually the butt of them). Ellie herself is one of A’whora’s closest flatmates; they’ll often stay up half the night finishing prototypes or assignments together, all while watching a film which they have spookily similar taste in- they’ve agreed on 101 and 102 Dalmatians, Hocus Pocus, and The Wizard of Oz so far.

And then there’s Tayce, who A’whora thinks is both the absolute carbon copy of herself and yet also so different, the yin to her yang. Tayce has been her closest friend in the flat since day one when she booted the door to her room down and dragged her out of her emotional stupor, and that’s really what’s set the tone for the rest of their friendship; Tayce, upbeat and motivating, constantly and infectiously helping A’whora feel the same way even when she doesn’t want to go out, or doesn’t feel like dragging herself out of her room for a chill flat night with the others, or even when she just feels like a heap of shit. She’s such a fun and positive person to be around, relentlessly optimistic and goofy, and she brings out that side of A’whora too. As opposed to during sixth form and high school, where she’d put up a front to make sure nobody fucked with her, A’whora finds that at uni she can be the person she truly is and let her guard down a little.

This includes being open about her sexuality for the first time ever. She’s out to her family (for the better or worse), but nobody else back home knows (not even her friends) and she wants to keep it that way for now. But at uni things are different- nobody knows her here, nobody has these preconceived ideas of who she is and who she has to be, so she’d taken the plunge and been open about everything. None of the others had cared of course, in fact they’d all been too excited about the fact there’s not a single straight person in their flat comprised of four lesbians (Tayce, Lawrence, Tia and A’whora), one bi (Ellie) and one pan (Bimini).

“What’ve you got so far?” A’whora asks Bimini, sitting down on the sofa opposite her two flatmates.

Bimini reads off their notepad. “Casino night, bottomless brunch…get the train down to Newcastle, have a big night out, stay out all night an’ get the first train home-”

“Christ, that’ll be a challenge for me, you know I get sleepy around midnight,” Lawrence chuckles.

Bimini shrugs. “We’ll just get you an IV drip of Ellie’s Monster, you’ll be alright.”

“What else’ve you got?”

“That’s it so far.”

A’whora spears a pasta spiral, tilts her head in thought as she eats it. “Get drunk in a lecture.”

“Aw, good one!” Lawrence cries enthusiastically. Bimini, for their part, frowns with disapproval.

“Wait, no! Not a good one. Not a good one at all. It’s alright for you art school bitches, you’ve got some lectures together and you can coordinate, where does that leave me n’ Tia?”

“I guess that leaves you…downing a bottle of five pound chardonnay on the back bench of a lecture hall like a tramp with a drinking problem,” Lawrence shrugs, A’whora yelping out a laugh as Bimini shoves Lawrence with their foot.

Just then, there’s movement in the hall and as A’whora turns around she’s greeted by the sight of a tired-looking Tayce and Ellie walking into the kitchen. They shrug off their coats and take off their shoes and dump their bags on the kitchen table with a huff before they walk over to the others. Tayce spreads herself out over the sofa that A’whora’s sitting on, thudding her feet onto her lap without asking permission, to which A’whora instantly pushes them off her and gets a glare and a smirk in return.

“Lawrie, are you knitting?” Ellie laughs, sitting on the arm of the sofa beside her.

“Yeah? And?”

Ellie snorts in amusement. “Just didn’t realise we were living with a wee granny.”

“Well actually, bawbag! I was in the middle of making you a scarf because I can’t stand to listen to you talking shite about how you’re cold every time we leave the flat, but I can leave it if you want,” Lawrence explains. A’whora thinks it’s funny how Ellie backtracks immediately; she can’t tell if she’s blushing or just out of breath from scaling their block’s stairs. Bimini gains control of the conversation, tilting their head in intrigue.

“How were your lectures, huns?”

“Shit, thanks for asking,” Tayce groans, thudding her head down dramatically against the sofa cushions. “I don’t know, I just can’t concentrate when I’m getting talked at for an hour at a time. I need to be doing stuff, you know?”

“Feel that,” Ellie joins in, deflated. A’whora can sympathise- she loves the practical elements of her course, but not so much the lectures. She’s glad she shares a lot of them with Ellie, and the two of them can dick about and text each other and doodle designs in their notebooks while keeping one ear on whoever’s speaking.

“Well if you want to be doing something, you can help us with this,” Bimini suggests, explaining the bucket list they’ve been making.

The girls get settled and the ideas start to flow, Lawrence putting her speakers on for background noise as they all come up with new and increasingly more chaotic exploits. Ellie suggests trying every cocktail in Levels which gets scribbled down into Bimini’s notepad, and Tayce suggests going to Levels sober, which doesn’t get afforded the same appreciation. A’whora comes up with crashing the catered halls for breakfast one day, which they all agree is a good idea but the chances of it actually happening are low considering the earliest riser in the flat is Tayce and even she doesn’t waken up til half nine on a weekend.

“What’re some clubs we’ve not been to yet?” Bimini asks, shrugging. “Could put those down, try an’ visit every one in the city?”

Lawrence snorts derisively. “You go to Underground if you want your phone stolen, Velvet if you want to be bullied by fifteen year olds in the toilets, and Crystal if you want to subject yourself to painful misogyny and probably some light sexual assault.”

“So none of those, then,” Bimini murmurs.

“Those are all really het as well, though,” Ellie wrinkles her nose up in distaste. Then her face lights up as she gets an idea. “Oh! Put down Pride in July.”

“Nice one,” Bimini nods as they scribble down Ellie’s suggestion, the others making little hums of approval.

The conversation goes on for quite some time. Halfway through it Tayce seems to decide she’s bored of lying down and instead moves to sit on the floor between A’whora’s legs, asking her to play with her hair. They’ll do this sometimes- it’s a routine they fall into, A’whora being able to style Tayce’s endlessly long, straight hair and Tayce finding the whole thing therapeutic. They have a lot of little routines like this: they’ll sit close together on the sofa during a flat movie night and take turns leaning on each others’ shoulders, spontaneously give each other hugs at random points throughout the day, trace patterns into each others’ palms when the other seems stressed.

It’s nice. A’whora’s never really had a friendship like this, soft and caring and kind. In school her group was the kind that made catty jokes about each other then buffered them with a “love you!” afterwards and took kissy-face group selfies only to bitch about each other on a private group chat mere hours later. If it was a wolfpack then it was rabid and cannibalistic, and it had seemed like a full-time job ensuring she was never the runt of it. What she’s got with all her flatmates now- especially Tayce- makes her feel like she can finally breathe.

“What about the Centurion Challenge?” Lawrence suggests with a small gasp, breaking A’whora’s reverie as she expertly twirls Tayce’s hair into a loose and chunky French plait.

“Jesus Christ, Lawrence,” Ellie mutters in amusement.

“What’s the Centurion Challenge?” Bimini asks, pulling a face.

Lawrence gives a blythe shrug as she elaborates. “A hundred shots in a hundred minutes.”

A’whora ruins Tayce’s braid in shock, her hair untwisting itself from the braid as if it’s outraged too. The cry she gives joins in harmony with that of Tayce’s and Bimini’s. “A hundred shots? You’d fucking die!”

“Not of vodka! Obviously not of vodka! I know we all have one communal brain cell between us but Christ, can one of yous not use it?!” Lawrence protests. “It’s a hundred shots of beer. Don’t shit yourselves.”

“Aw, well that’s alright then,” Bimini pipes up sarcastically. “What’s actually wrong with Scottish people? Is your breastmilk spiked with whiskey? What d’you get instead of Cow and Gate formula, just cocaine?"

“Actually, a hundred shots of beer sounds more doable to me,” Tayce shrugs, and A’whora can feel her relax against her lap.

“I’d need to change it, I can’t stand beer,” A’whora considers. Ellie cocks her head in consideration.

“Well what alcohol do you like?”

“Fucking none of it,” A’whora laughs. “Cocktails. Vodka cokes. Anything where there’s juice to cover it up.”

Tayce twists her head to look up at her, a little twinkle of mischief in her eye. “I think the challenge ceases to be a challenge when it’s reduced to one hundred watered down shots of Woo Woo, Rory.”

As the others blurt out a laugh A’whora glares down at Tayce, but she can’t help but break out into a giggle too when Tayce grabs her knee and gives it a playful wobble, letting her know she was only joking without even having to say a thing.

A’whora’s not sure what time it is when she hears the front door swing shut and Tia emerges from the hallway, her long hair all messed up from the seemingly ever-present wind outside and almost obscuring the bright smile plastered on her face. “Hey, huns!”

“Oi oi,” Tayce greets her from her position on the floor. “What’s got you so smiley?”

“Nooothing,” Tia smirks, dragging the word out playfully. “Just got an invite to the night out of a very cute girl in my MT society…and she said you guys can all come too. Pres at her flat and then out to The Avenue. Evening plans sorted?”

“Oh, love that!” Bimini gives an enthusiastic clap. “Go on then, who’s the girl? Whose night are we crashing?”

“Her name’s Veronica,” Tia smiles bashfully. “She’s so lovely. Honestly, she wouldn’t mind you coming! She’s got one of the big flats over at Gourock Court so it’s not like it’ll be packed.”

“You don’t exactly want to go to a party that’s not going to be packed,” Ellie screws up her nose. She looks unimpressed and her tone is flat. “And even if it is, I don’t know if I’m in the mood for a flat party with a ton of new people, Tia.”

A’whora’s face drops and she locks eyes with Lawrence simultaneously, who’s got an equally incredulous look on her face. “Els, are you unwell? You never turn down a night out.”

Ellie shrugs quietly, not giving much away on her face. Tia, obviously keen to move to the girl she’s crushing on, carries on persuading her. “C’mon, Eleanor, don’t be such a fucking…square! It’s the musical theatre society, we’re just a walking Pride festival who all happen to be able to hold a tune. There’s loads of fit lesbians?”

“Well if I wasn’t convinced before, I sure am now,” Tayce purrs, a little smile appearing on her lips and a cheeky twinkle in her eyes. A’whora feels her laugh come out weakly. She doesn’t know why, but an odd, uncomfortable feeling lodges itself in her gut. She can’t quite put her finger on what exactly it is or why it’s put itself there.

“And there’s gonna be so many musicals on the playlist!” Tia continues to insist, despite being met with Ellie’s sour face. “I know you’ll love it! They’d probably even play stuff from Shrek if you got them drunk enough.”

A’whora can’t help but scrunch up her nose in distaste. “Hey, I’m only coming if they play fucking…normal people music as well. I’m not gonna be sat in a room with twenty white kids trying to rap to Hamilton or whatever the fuck it is.”

Tia rolls her eyes, plants her hands on her hips in exasperation. “Calm down, A’whora, you’ll still get all the top 40 dance-pop shit you love so much.”

“To be honest, it sounds class. And The Avenue’s always good,” Bimini cuts in calmly. A’whora does have to agree with that. They’ve not been there in a while- the bar across the road from the city’s most popular LGBT club- and its selection of early 00s pop princess tracks combined with its deal of two vodka mixers and a shot for a fiver makes it a guaranteed good night out.

“Well it seems like we’re all down, even if this stroppy cow isn’t,” Tia smiles happily, sticking her tongue out at Ellie for good measure. Ellie finally heaves a world-weary sigh, rolling her eyes dramatically as she relents.

“Ugh, fine! Fine, but this Verruca or whatever the hell she’s called better be the hottest bitch on the planet for you to drag us all out with your MT weirdos, Tia Maria,” she grumps. Tia ignores her bad mood and lets out a cheer which the others join in with, and A’whora resolves to interrogate Ellie about her Bitter Betty attitude later on. Preferably when they’re both drunk. That always makes things easier.

In the melee of excitement, Tayce twists round from her position on the carpet, folds her arms and rests them on top of A’whora’s thighs. “Right. You need to come help me choose an outfit if we’re going out. I need to look fit.”

A’whora smiles with pride. “Ooh, personal stylist duties? I’m honoured.”

“Well I’m hardly gonna ask Tia, am I?” Tayce giggles quietly, and A’whora joins in like it’s a little secret they’re sharing. “Or Ellie. She’d just send me out in one of her bodysuit/skirt combos. I swear to God that girl is like Marge bloody Simpson. Open up her wardrobe and she’ll have twenty sets of the same outfit. Serial killer behaviour, that.”

At this point A’whora is laughing so much that it draws the attention of the others, who eye them with suspicious stares. “What the hell’s so funny?”

A’whora gives Tayce a mischievous look. “Tayce just called Ellie a serial killer.”

Tayce yelps in outrage at having been called out, and as Ellie narrows her eyes Tayce leaps up from the floor and tugs A’whora off of the sofa with her. “That’s taking it out of context, you absolute hound! Come on, help me pick something.”

Tayce’s fingers stay curled around A’whora’s hand all the way down the corridor and into her bedroom. It’s a feeling that A’whora likes because it makes her feel close to her friend, and Tayce taking her hand is like an affirmation and a reassurance all in one; that she likes her, that their friendship has reached the level where hand-holding has become acceptable, that A’whora is worthy of being liked, of being someone’s friend- their real, proper friend. The validation sets her heart off like a flare. It’s nice to feel wanted.

A’whora perches on the edge of Tayce’s bed as she scrapes the coat hangers in her wardrobe and throws outfits onto the bed like a tornado, each more gorgeous than the last and all ones Tayce would look stunning in. That’s something that always strikes A’whora about Tayce; just how beautiful she is, how absolutely blessed with the God-given good genes. The way she looks serene and ethereal without makeup, walking to lectures in the morning with the sun hitting her face and giving her skin a glow. The way she paints for a night out and knows how to accentuate everything about her face that’s already perfect, a feat that would seem like an exaggeration if A’whora hadn’t seen it for herself to confirm it’s true. She frequently finds herself having to hold back from giving compliments to Tayce because if she started she’d never stop.

“Okay, first thoughts are…” Tayce announces unnecessarily loudly, and A’whora laughs at the way she’s talking as if she’s a stylist on a morning TV show. “…I’m thinking something black.”

“Of course you are,” A’whora interrupts with a laugh. “Tayce wearing black. How predictable.”

Tayce gives her a shove on the shoulder that’s too hard and makes her fall back against the mattress. “Shut up! I’ll wear something other than black when Lawrence wears something other than purple, how’s about that?”

The pair of them giggle at the joke as Tayce rifles through the clothes she’s shortlisted, holding up a black leather jacket and a black bralet with an intricate lace hem. The combination makes A’whora’s eyes fly wide open in appreciation.

“This?” Tayce raises an eyebrow at her inquisitively. The fact she’s obviously seen her reaction makes A’whora feel a little self-conscious and she doesn’t particularly know why. “Because I’m wanting to wear either my wet-look leggings or my black vinyl skirt with the zip up the front, and I don’t know if that’s too much leather effect stuff?”

“It’s too much,” A’whora nods, physically unable to help her honesty. “Also I think you should wear the skirt because you’ve got good legs and you should get them out any chance you get. But also the bralet won’t go with it because it’ll make your proportions all wrong.”

Tayce smiles appreciatively as she throws the bralet back into her wardrobe as if A’whora’s given her a command and not a suggestion. “See, this is another reason why you’re the queen of outfit advice. Bimini wouldn’t give me this level of honesty, they’re too nice.”

A’whora feels a warmth spread in her chest at the compliment, but she doesn’t show it. Instead she snorts, nods in agreement. “Yeah, because you could come out dressed in a pair of child’s pyjamas and they’d still say they love it. They’d say it’s very Y2K or something.”

Tayce lets out a cackle before holding up the skirt and leather jacket, humming in thought. “Okay, so you’re saying ditch the jacket but keep the skirt.”

“Yes.”

“And ditch the bralet.”

“Yes.”

“So you want me to go out in a skirt and a pair of heels and nothing else,” Tayce raises an eyebrow at her, and as A’whora bursts out laughing and protests she has to fight off a blush at the thought of her best friend topless in heels. Topless in heels and a vinyl skirt. Topless in heels and a vinyl skirt with a zip that could just be pulled down to leave her in-

The heat floods A’whora’s face like she’s been smacked and she shifts on the bed in an attempt at dissipating the feelings that’ve hit her like a tsunami. Inappropriate. Weird. Way too weird. Don’t do that again.

“What about the bright blue fur coat you’ve got? Because you could have an all black outfit with that as a bit of colour,” she suggests, shrugging lightly in an attempt to pretend that she hadn’t just been thinking about Tayce in the way she had.

Tayce’s face lights up and she points at A’whora with one hand and reaches into her wardrobe with the other. “Love that. Okay, top?”

“Are you addressing me? I’ve never topped for anyone,” A’whora attempts a joke. If Tayce can make jokes like that to her then she can do it right back.  

“That’s very clear, baby,” Tayce shoots in response without missing a beat. Before A’whora realises it, she’s flexing her toes. What the fuck is happening to her? She needs to steer this conversation back on track.

She thinks for a second. “You’re a size eight, right?”

“In theory. The amount of pot noodles I’ve been chucking down my neck since I moved in is very quickly rendering that a distant memory, I’ll tell ya,” Tayce says, as she leans against the door of her wardrobe and folds her arms.

“I’ve got a black lace bodysuit that would go with that. It’s a ten so it’ll fit. D’you want to try it?”

“Well despite the fact a skirt and a bodysuit was the very thing I just roasted Ellie for always wearing…that sounds lush. Thanks, Rory Roo,” Tayce agrees, the nickname-of-a-nickname setting off the click of a small pilot light in A’whora’s heart. She’s about to ask if she wants to come try it on just now when she hears both their names being yelled from the kitchen.

The pair of them head back through to find that Tia has changed the playlist on the speakers from the chilled-out, calm acoustic one that had been playing to her early 00’s tunes. Combined with Bimini half-singing, half-yelling along to Murder on the Dancefloor and the blast of the extractor fan as Ellie stirs something in a big metal pot at the hob, it’s a far cry from the calm, cosy scene that A’whora had witnessed in the kitchen some hours prior.

Ellie had been the one who had shouted on them, and she whips around from the cooker when she realises that Tayce and A’whora have come through. “I’m making dinner for me, Bims and Tia, you wanting some?”

“Depends what it is. Come on, talk it up, Ellie. Give us some options,” Tayce shrugs with feigned disinterest, and A’whora can’t help the bubble of laughter that bursts from her mouth as Ellie narrows her eyes at her.

“It’s spaghetti and meatballs, and your alternatives are fuck off or die,” she shoots back savagely, and the whoop of shock and laughter that goes up from the others soars above the music and the fan. Tayce laughs good-naturedly in spite of the barb.

“I’m joking, ‘course I’ll take some.”

A’whora wrinkles her nose. “You’re making meatballs for a meal that Bimini is gonna eat?”

“They’re not real ones, dipshit,” Bimini pipes up from over on the sofa. “It’s that Birdseye Green Cuisine shit, innit.”

“Birdseye Green Cuisine shit,” A’whora repeats disdainfully. “If you ever go on The Apprentice, Bim, Alan Sugar’s gonna shit himself at your selling abilities.”

Tayce snorts, tries and fails to cover it up. When her eyes rest on A’whora they share a little smile, and A’whora’s grows bigger when she thinks about the way they’re both so in sync all the time.

“They’re nice, I promise! Veronica’s talked them up loads, she told me she’s been trying to eat more veggie things,” Tia insists, with an entirely unnecessary namedrop of her crush. A’whora relents and says she’ll have a small bowl before jumping out of her skin as Ellie bangs the spoon against the pot somewhat aggressively with a face like thunder.

Before A’whora can ask Ellie about her bad mood, Tia speaks again as she scrolls her phone to change the song. “Honestly, Ellie, you’re a star for doing dinner. Thanks so much.”

“Aw, don’t be silly, doll! It’s nothing!” Ellie turns around from the hob and bats the compliment away, shooting Tia a dazzling smile in return. It’s funny the way her demeanour seems to instantly do a complete 180 at the praise, and it makes A’whora wonder what’s changed.

She’s distracted, though, by the way Lawrence enters in her dressing gown with her hair up in a towel, obviously having come straight from the shower. She pouts and whines in a very un-Lawrence way as she lingers at the doorframe between the hall and the kitchen.

“Guysss, does anyone have an ID they can give me for tonight?”

“What about your friend? Who was it…Rosé?” A’whora shrugs, and Lawrence fixes her with a wide-eyed stare of incredulity.

“Oh my God, A’whora! I never thought about asking the girl I’ve been borrowing ID from since the start of uni! Thanks for that!” she says sarcastically, Bimini giving a yelp of laughter and A’whora leaning off the countertops and swiping at Lawrence in retort. “She’s using it. She asked her girlfriend and her flatmates for me but they’ve all got plans. I felt like a fuckin’ daytime TV charity advert.”

“For just one pound a week, you could help an underaged child get blackout drunk on triple trebles,” A’whora puts on a dramatic, concerned voice, proud of the way it makes Tayce blurt out a laugh.

“It’s such fucking bullshit,” Lawrence huffs, leaning against the fridge and folding her arms. “I mean my eighteenth’s in five days and I’ve been drinking in parks since I was fourteen, how can I not just be let into a fuckin’ bar?”

“Grow up and order a fake one,” Ellie shakes her head with incredulity, smashing the wooden spoon against the pot again with a bang-bang-bang to get the excess pasta sauce off.

“Just you pipe down, hen, you shouldn’t even be at uni. In fact, have you even completed primary yet?”

The two girls stick their tongues out at each other, a mirror-image of petty bickering that makes A’whora laugh. Luckily Bimini steps in, shrugging as they open their purse.

“Here, babe. I’ve still got my course friend’s provisional from when she dropped it on Gordon Street when she was off her face. I ain’t given her it back yet an’ I’m sure she wouldn’t care if you borrowed it. She’s chill.”

Lawrence accepts enthusiastically, bouncing over to Bimini and thanking them gratefully. A’whora watches her face drop, though, when she takes a look at the photo.

“There’s no way this’ll work.”

Bimini tuts and shakes their head, the picture of casual composure. “It’s fine, babes, they never look properly anyway.”

Lawrence drops the hand that’s holding the license to her side and fixes her friend with an astounded glare. “Bimini. This girl is black.”

As the others screech with outrage and mirth, Bimini waves Lawrence’s concerns away blithely. “It’ll be dark! It’s fine! Asttina an’ you have both got similar…well…you’re both girls, an’ you’re about the same height. Give or take a few inches.”    

“Christ. I’m going to have to just forward roll past the bouncers, aren’t I? Then draw a fuckin’ club stamp on my arm in Sharpie.”

“Oh my God, stop moaning!” Ellie sighs from her position at the hob, bangs the spoon again for emphasis. “Look, I’ll ask Pippa from flat 2, alright? You both have brown hair, so…that’ll probably be enough.”

A’whora thinks it’s interesting the way Lawrence doesn’t shoot something back in her foghorn of a voice like she normally does. Instead she smiles warmly, dashes over to the kitchen where she hugs Ellie from behind, squeezing her tightly at the stomach and making her flinch in surprise.

“Thanks, Ellie-Bellie,” she sing-songs, swaying her aggressively from side to side until Ellie bats her away, flicking the spoon in a way that threatens to shower them both in marinara sauce.

“Right, that’s plenty. Don’t even do things I enjoy for that long.”

“When’s this gonna be ready, Els?” Bimini shouts through as Lawrence lets go. “ ‘Ave I got time to do my makeup before it?”

Ellie shrugs. “If you can do your makeup in ten minutes.”

A’whora kicks her leg out in Tayce’s direction and jerks her head towards the hall. “Do you want to try on that bodysuit before tea?”

Tayce nods enthusiastically in agreement, so they go back along the corridor with a shout to the others telling them they won’t be long. A’whora holds the door of her room open for Tayce and her heart sinks in embarrassment when she realises she forgot to make her bed this morning.

“Sorry about the mess,” she apologies, to which Tayce gives a cry of a laugh in response.

“A’whora, have you seen my room? You’re fine, kid, don’t worry.”

A’whora thinks that’s true- Tayce’s room is a state, but somehow it seems to suit her. Tayce’s room with the crowded bulletin board, desk covered in sweet wrappers and sketches, floor carpeted with clothes that need washed and outfits that didn’t make the cut. The cracked picture frame on her window-sill of the first selfie the six of them all got together on the first night of freshers and the huge cheese plant that sits next to her bedside table, Tayce’s pride and joy. They’re all little intricate shards that join up to form a perfect picture of her personality, and A’whora thinks it’s sort of perfect.

She looks out the bodysuit from its neatly Marie Kondo-d place in her wardrobe and hands it gently to Tayce. “Try it and see. It’s a small 10 anyway so it’ll probably be fine for you.”

Tayce accepts it gratefully and hooks a finger around both of the straps, letting the rest of the material fall out of its perfectly folded little parcel. She gives a little gasp of appreciation as she looks at it. “Oh yes, baby. I think this’ll do just fine.”

A’whora feels good- proud that she’s managed to find the perfect piece for Tayce’s outfit, to help her look as inevitably gorgeous as she knows she will. The smile on her face falters, though, when Tayce shoots her a wink and leans against the wall with her shoulder. “This is gonna get me someone I can pop off my acrylics for, I can tell. You’ve got the best taste, girl.”

“Are you actually going to try and get with someone tonight?” A’whora injects a laugh into her question that she’s banking on sounding genuine, otherwise it comes across as accusatory and that’s not what she means it to be. Or is it? She doesn’t know. “You know how messy nights at The Avenue always get. Last time we were there Lawrence got so drunk she told us she couldn’t see, remember?”

Tayce laughs her off with a shrug. “Well then I’ll just have to be careful with my drinks, won’t I?”

A’whora gives a false laugh, tries so hard to get it to meet her eyes. Why is she so pressed about this? She gets with girls on nights out too, she’s brought the occasional one night stand to the flat. Tayce is allowed to do the same.

So why does she feel ever so slightly gutted?

If her smile looks fake (which it is) then Tayce doesn’t notice, and she only shoots her a smile as she opens the bedroom door. “You’re an angel. I’ll pop this on then be back in five.”

A’whora takes the opportunity of Tayce having left to make her bed, and as she does so she feels lots of little thoughts dart around her mind like minnows, none of them staying in the same place for long enough to be able to be deciphered. She manages to catch a few before they flee away and she clings to them, turning them over in her head: why does she feel so bothered about the prospect of Tayce finding a girl at the party, talking to her and making a connection and laughing at her jokes? Why had it felt like a punch to the gut when Tayce was joking about doing so? Why does she have this part of her that feels like an idiot for setting Tayce up to look her best and knowing that it’s for the benefit of somebody else, somebody that doesn’t know her like she does?

And then her bedroom door opens and A’whora turns around and lays eyes on her best friend. Tayce in her high heels and bare legs and the skirt with the zip. Tayce with her baby blue fake fur coat and her straight, dark hair tumbling over its shoulders. Tayce in the bodysuit- A’whora’s bodysuit- with the lace and the mesh that clings to her chest like it was designed just for her. There’s something about the fact that she’s wearing something that belongs to A’whora that makes something inside her chest tingle, the fact it’s a little piece of her in Tayce’s jigsaw puzzle that seems to fit regardless of the difference.

“What d’you think?” Tayce smiles, all too aware of how drop-dead stunning she looks.

And then the realisation hits A’whora like a train.

Oh.

Fuck.

She’s screwed.

[crystaldwightsworld]

Adam, post surgery, on medical leave...

So... I’ve got this whole, weird, crazy, obviously non canon idea in my head for something I wanna do.

It’s obvious that Adam is struggling even after the 6 months of medical leave Sarif has given him but what’s been on my mind is, what’s he been doing in the 6 months prior?

Surely, drinking up a storm, smoking and eating massive amounts of cereal to try and manage to cope but I can’t imagine the amount of pain he must have been in in adjusting to his augmentations. I mean, severe pain, agony and anguish. Not to mention the clear breakdown he has the first night he gets home from the clinic. I’m talking a severe breakdown, crying, beating on the wall of his shower, wailing, angry and pained tears. It’s all he can do on most days other than get out of bed. He’s fallen to the bottom pit of a depressive state that he can’t even be bothered to clean up after himself (i.e. the piles of empty cereal bowls strewn about counter tops and tables, unpacked belongings, etc), let alone look at himself (the first broken mirror). Adam loathes his augs, suffers greatly with body dysphoria now that more than half his body is gone and replaced with mechanical limbs he never consented to but on top of all of it, his ex-girlfriend is gone, whom he was really good friends with even after the break up. Even his dog is gone.

He’s become aware of how serious his neglect is getting. As much as he’d like to handle it on his own and as much as he prefers being a loner, there’s a big part of him that knows he can’t, especially when he has more days where he just wants nothing more than to lay in bed. So, he hires somebody. A maid in such words but she’s more like a house sitter but also called on to be a caregiver for Adam, to Adam. Her name is Adley and even though Adam isn’t quite sure at first with how young she is (she’s 24, yes, major age difference, if that bothers you, then I understand) she adheres and abides by his politely requested rules in keeping his apartment tidy and kempt following in keeping an eye on him, his health and his daily exercises in adjusting with his augs. It’s a long, grueling six months for them both but she’s been better than he would have ever asked for. She’s extremely mindful in keeping his privacy in mind, knocks on the door before entering, doesn’t touch anything she’s not supposed to or rearranging his possessions, keeps his extensive collection of cereals in stock, makes sure he takes his medicine and eats all while being even as quiet as he is, unless she’s playing music that she politely asks to play while she works on her surroundings, trip-hop she called it, some bands he’s never heard of, massive attack and unkle (to which he’s caught her on more than one occasion dancing to while she worked, and yes, he finds it rather cute). He appreciates her but doesn’t quite know how to show or tell her. She does more for him other than provide a service.

Adley, on the other hand, likes Adam, has grown to admire him. Like, really likes him although it’s something she’d never admit to anyone. She genuinely cares for him and his well being and has shown it to him, even in his supposed unawareness of it (i.e. covering him with a blanket after he’s fallen asleep on the couch or in his bed, closing the door and hardly bothering him on days where his pain levels are too much to handle, chatting with him in the early hours of the morning through messenger or skype when he can’t sleep, sending him memes she knows he’d find funny). Adam’s augmentations don’t bother her but when she shows up one afternoon after Adam’s taken off to an appointment at a LIMB clinic, she discovers just how serious his self loathe really is when she finds the mirror in his bathroom shattered to pieces, cracked and broken with one perfectly shaped impact of what she thinks is his fist. It’s not hard for her to put two and two together. Adam hated himself and would rather destroy a reflective surface than catch a glimpse of himself in it. It breaks her heart, especially since she found him more than attractive, augs or no augs, she’d feel the same. She’d worked hard to gain Adam’s trust and now that she has it, she feels that she might be jeopardizing it by bringing up concerns.

It bothers her immensely to the point where her bother shifts quickly in worry with a desperate need to tell him, to show him that he shouldn’t... when he does. She brings it up after he arrives back, genuine concern laced in her voice when she questions him about it.

“The mirror... did you- did you break it?”

But, alas, the stoic that he was, he brushes if off immediately and claims that it was nothing. Claims that he’s fine. Retreats to the confines of his room with nothing more than a peep uttered, leaving Adley to her thoughts, confused and conflicted. She knows better than to push him on it.

It’s the third one he’s broken. He hadn’t meant for her to find it. Had forgotten completely that it was one of those days where she made her routine visits. But even then, the mirror still would have been there, she still would have noticed it. He spends nearly the rest of the evening, glaring and gawking at his handiwork, reflecting on the force of his punch, the anger in what was left of his veins, the ache still hiding behind his steel heart (literally). He doesn’t realize just how long he’s been sitting there lost in a daze until she knocks on the frame of his doorway, announcing that she was about to leave for the evening and asking if he needed anything. That was Adley. Always so sweet and kind, worried about him way before she’d be worried about herself. With shoulders still slumped and his back still to her, he finally manages to speak, the first words he’s spoken to her in hours.

“Adley, can I talk to you for a minute?” His raspy low voice asks to her. There’s absolutely no lilt or fall to his tone but her heart nearly sinks to her feet, so certain that this was going to be the last time she’d ever see him, that he was going to fire her. Either way, she steps into the room and makes her way over to him, standing a few feet away from him in waiting for his dismissal, her fingers anxiously fidgeting in her nervousness.

It’s a long, empty and barren silence between them before he finally turns to match her gaze. There was no point in ignoring it any longer.

“I broke the mirror.” He admits. His confession surprises her.

“You’re not firing me?” She asks, to his surprise.

“Of course not, why would I?” He asks, genuinely confused.

“I thought I- I-I don’t know, maybe I had over stepped a line or something.” She brings up, her voice breaking and cracking. She’s nervous, Adam senses. “Why did you break the mirror?”

Adam inhales and sighs heavily, stretching his lengthy legs out in front of him and combing his fingers through his hair. He takes one last quick glance at his destroyed mirror before reminding himself not to look at it and shifting his gaze back to Adley. She’s not expecting it when he retracts his eye shields. She’s never seen him without them.

“Because... because I hate these fucking augs, I hate looking at them, what they make me. They’re apart of me now and there’s nothing I can do about it. I almost died on that table, Adley. They say they saved my life but... with what they had to do to do it, with what they gave me... sometimes I wonder if I’d be better off dead. Should have let me die there. I can hardly stand to look at myself because that’s not me, that’s not... Adam. I- for fuck’s sake, I can’t even jack off, cannot get my goddamn rhythm back- I-” He pauses, realizing what he just said with his mind running rampant with thoughts, he hadn’t even thought twice about what he was saying. Adley still stood there, waiting and listening to him although was now doing a horrible job to hide the smile that had appeared on her lips.

It’s faint, hardly there at all but even in the dim light seeping through his blinds that was the Detroit night, she catches the grin that appears just ask quick as it vanishes, watching Adam close his eyes against the embarrassment.

“I-I’m sorry Adley, I’m sure you don’t wanna listen to me vent and rant.” Adam breaks the awkward silence.

“N-no Adam, it’s okay, really. I don’t mind.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to keep you, if you need to leave-”

“No, I don’t but... Adam.” She says, her gaze lifting towards the bathroom where his broken mirror resided. He catches her glimpse. She has no idea how to put it into words, that his augmented limbs didn’t scare her, how much she adored him, how much she pondered and thought about him, immersed in fantasies and scenarios that would never happen...

“Can I try something? I mean, show you, I don’t know.” She asks him, wanting his permission. He nods. She wastes no time in making herself comfortable in front of him, between his now pulled up knees and... on hers before him. This is, this was highly, highly suggestive but he waits for her, enamored in her tiny frame in the darkness of his bedroom.

Her lacquered fingers lift cautiously and reach for his alloy plated hands. Augmented hands didn’t sense touch the exact same way skin did but either way, he could still feel her hands in his, her flesh chilled but cradling his carbon black fingers with a tenderness he had all but forgotten. She has no idea where this new found confidence was coming from but with her trust that she held with him, she’s not afraid to let her hand explore his forearm, letting his other touch her face as she pushes her cheek against his palm, almost lovingly all the while a gawking Adam stared at her, mouth slightly agape, his heart, artificial or not, thudding rampantly against the steel wall of his chest cavity. She... had no idea what this meant to him, what it felt like to be touched again. He’s so overwhelmed and fixated on her hands on him that he has to remember to tell himself to breathe.

“I don’t see the augs, Adam. I... only see you. Yes, apart of you may be gone, may have been taken from you but... this is still you, this is the Adam I know. Augs or no augs, I’d feel the same way. Trust me when I say that I don’t let just anybody near me like this, let alone touch. I don’t see a machine, a product. I see you, a man, my um- well my friend, I guess, if I’m being honest.” She tells him. Of course if she were really being honest, she’d tell him he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, that no one compared to him.

He may not show the emotion on his face but it’s written well in his eyes, glimmering in the low light and contracting in taking her in. They’d been close before but nothing like this, nothing intimate. Her hands move to his face, her skin grazing against his and goddamn, he could almost melt with the tiny brushes of her pinky fingers invading into his hair line.

“I can’t change the way you think or feel Adam but... next time, come to me maybe? You know I’m always okay to talk if you need to. A three in the morning skype call has never stopped you before, don’t let this stop you now. Not because you’re paying me but because I want to. That’s what people do when they care for each other. They help the other.”

He’s speechless, has absolutely no idea what to say but he words have touched him somewhere deep down in the wallows of his broken mind. And her hands on his face, he had forgotten what it was like to be touched again. As much as he’s fighting to hold them back, he can’t help the stray tears that roll down his prominent cheeks, Adley’s skinny long fingers brushing them away as she still cradled his face in her hands.

It’s quiet for some time between them, nothing but the sound of Adam’s breathing filling the empty silence. She’s not expecting anything, especially from Adam, he’s always been so guarded and blocked off and she’s more than used to it by now. It nearly knocks the breath out of her lungs when he pulls her to him, his arms hooked underneath her shoulders as he clung to her. She’s more than happy to reciprocate the hug, her arms wrapped around his waist and holding him close, this moment, she had played over so many times in her head yet it had never went this way. Adam was quiet as he held and hugged her to him but she doesn’t mind, even when his hold on her tightens. She’d stay there for as long as he needed her to.

“Stay with me.” His low voice whispers to her in the pregnant silence. Her eyes widen at his request. “Stay with me tonight. Please?” He pleads, his voice longing and desperate.

“Adam, I- I don’t have any clothes with me.” She reminds him.

“You can wear mine.” He offers. She smiles.

“I-I need to shower as well, I should really get going.”

“You can use my shower.” He assures her. Again, she smiles, huffing out a laugh. He pulls away to look at her, his fingers tangling and intertwining with hers. “Please, stay with me. I don’t want you to go.”

She can’t say no to that.

“Alright, Adam. I’ll stay.”

As much as he preferred being alone, he felt comforted to know that she’d be there in the morning with him. Maybe they could cuddle in bed together until noon, get up and make breakfast together. Well, she could teach him, at least.

“Well, if I’m gunna be staying here, we need to figure out the food situation. I don’t know about you but I’m starving. You wanna order take out?” Adley suggests, pulling away and standing.

“What, no cereal?” Adam chides.

“Adam, I am not eating cereal for dinner!” Adley whines as she makes her way back out into his kitchen.

“Why not? It’s good!”

“Adam!”

He joins her back out in the kitchen, looking and searching through the massive collection of restaurant menus he had stockpiled. It’s the happiest he’s felt in months. He couldn’t wait to wake up next to her in the morning.

[belliesandburps]

Soda Challenge (Leona x Ruggie Soda Chugging Fic)

I received a number of prompts requesting something with Leona and Ruggie.  Normally, I don’t really do requests unless I specifically ask for ‘em, but not only did I get a BUNCH for these two, but I’ve been actively wanting to write something with them for a while.  So!  I settled on the good ol’ fashion soda chugging challenge.  Enjoy the bloating, nausea and burps galore.  ;)

“How’d I let you talk me into this...?”  Leona asked with one brow raised in mild annoyance.

Ruggie, for his part, just snickered in that suppressed way of his where he always, always...ALWAYS held his hand around his mouth and basically snickered through his nose.  “Shishishishi!  C’mon, dude!  It’ll be fun!”

Both Leona and Ruggie were out in the Magift Field alongside a good few fellow Savanaclaw dorm members.  All of them were dressed the same as Leona and Ruggie, in sleeveless yellow shirts with biker-esque vests and chaps over their jeans and boots.  And all of them, various demi-men with predatory animal traits.

Between the two of them were two twelve packs soda cans.  And both had a can in their hand respectively.  Leona just stared at Ruggie in a bored manner, then, without even looking away, gestured with his hand to one of their classmates who was watching along with the others...and holding out his cellphone and recording them.

“...And why does this need to be documented?” Leona asked, both bored and annoyed.

“‘Cuz what’s the point’uh doing a contest or challenge if we can’t record ourselves for prosperity?”  Ruggie said, sniggering again because somehow, everything was just funny to the young hyena teen.  

“Yeah! Use it t’show everyone else how tough Savanaclaw is!” The student filming suggested to the nods and jeers of his fellow Savanaclaw members all watching and cheering the two leads on.

“...You seriously made me miss my catnap for this crap...?” Leona grumbled before adding, “...I should literally eat you for this...”

“Shishishishi! Don’t sweat it, man!  You’ll have, like, a billion more catnaps!   Like...probably all today too!”  Ruggie insisted to the nods of agreement from all their fellow dormmates.

Leona just looked around at them and rolled his eyes, muttering, “...Tch, pain in the ass...”

“That’s the spirit!” Ruggie insisted before adding, “Anyway, ya know the rules, right?  First one t’chug down all their sodas or as much soda as they can before the other gives up, wins!  Easy, sleazy, right?“

“...I’d rather be asleep,” droned Leona.  Nonetheless, he held up the can and rested his finger on the top, ready to crack that carbonated beverage down.

“Alright, get ready to lose, dude!  Shishishi!”  Cackled Ruggie, then he started counting down.  “On my mark...three...two...one...GO!”

And in an instant, both Leona and Ruggie cracked their soda cans open, brought them to their lips and began eagerly chugging their beverages down.  Leona’s Adam’s Apple bobbed in and out rapidly as he slugged his beverage down as fast as he could.  Meanwhile, Ruggie’s throat throbbed at a slightly slower pace, but he accommodated by taking much, MUCH larger gulps of soda all at once to kind of balance things out.  

There were some chants of “CHUG!  CHUG!  CHUG!!” from the other Savanaclaw members, all eagerly watching their dorm leader pound away fizzy drink alongside his trusty number two.  Leona wanted to tell them to shut up because all their shouting was giving him a migraine.  But instead, he slugged down his beverage right around the same time as Ruggie.  

The two crushed their cans and carelessly discarded them as they both reached for their second cans at the same time and cracked them open, dipped their heads back, and started chugging rapidly.  Neither one scarcely paused for so much as a breath before downing their second beverages.  The rush of so much carbonation flowing down his gullet all at once left Leona’s throat burning.  He was a glutton, to be certain, every single student within Savanaclaw was a really big eater, even that ‘Fresh-baby’ who kept confronting Leona and Ruggie on matters that were absolutely none of his business was a really big eater.  But Leona wasn’t necessarily used to chugging soda THIS fast.

Nonetheless, he wasn’t about to be shown up by Ruggie in front of all the others.  Stupid challenge slash contest or not, victory was victory, and Leona had an image to uphold.   So, he carried on with no intentions of losing, least of all to Ruggie.

The two downed their second cans and caught their breath, when a sudden burp erupted from Ruggie’s mouth.  Then, almost immediately after, Ruggie clutched his stomach with one hand and expelled a HUGE burp.

“BrruuuUUUuuhp!!!”  

“BWWUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRPH!!!!!!!!”

The Savanaclaw students watching all cheered Ruggie on for his rather impressive display.  After all, among the entire Savanaclaw student base, Ruggie was one of the shortest, leanest and all around ‘smallest’ of the carnivorous students.  Yet, he was one of the biggest eaters in the entire school, excluding Leona himself.  As such, he could let out some surprisingly loud noises for someone as small as he is.

Ruggie sighed with relief, running his hand up and down his stomach contently and said, “Whew!  Man, that one RUSHED t’come up, huh!  Shishishi!”   Then, he cracked his third soda, but before he could get to work downing it, his eyes widened and his face lit up like an eager child’s face. “Ooh!  Wait, I got another one comin’!”  Ruggie said with a look of concentration before thumping his chest and expelling another large, guttural belch.  

“BWOOoooOOOOrrrrUuuuUUUH-urrrruuh-UUUUUUUUUUUPH!!!!!!!”

It made sense.  With the amount of soda that both he and Leona had chugged down all at once, as fast as they did, and without pausing to catch their breath after the first cans, there was quite a lot of pressure brewing in their guts in need of release.   Of course, by the time Ruggie actually got to his soda, Leona was already well into his third and on the verge of finishing.  

Leona was in it to win it, so while Ruggie was busy burping, Leona used the opportunity get a heads start, not pausing and going to work on his third can.  Of course, the drawback was that his stomach still had a lot of pressure in need of release after two cans of heavily carbonated beverages chugged in rapid succession.  Leona grimaced uncomfortably as his flat stomach gurgled rather intensely.  

But nonetheless, the young dorm leader ignored his gastric discomfort and chugged away.   Naturally, with his head start on Ruggie, he finished his third can first, and grabbed his fourth.  He grimaced again as his stomach lurched and burbled intensely.  Leona paused, resting a free hand against his belly and rubbing it tenderly.  He REALLY needed to burp, and could feel a big one brewing in his gut.  But nonetheless, he wasn’t some herbivore.  A little ‘tummyache’ wasn’t gonna stop him from kicking Ruggie’s ass.  

So, he powered on, chugging his fourth soda right around the time Ruggie finished his third can.  And like clockwork...

“BrrrUuuUUuUUHH-AAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRP!!!!”

Ruggie grabbed his gut and expelled a deep belch which, halfway in, blasted out more forcefully from his maw for a good few seconds straight.  The other predatory students all cheered and laughed.  But Ruggie shook his head and rubbed his belly with one hand as if to say, ‘there’s more in there.’

And sure enough...

“BLLLAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUURRRAAAAAAAAH-AAAAAAAAAAAPH!!!!!!!”

Ruggie’s maw gaped open as he gripped his belly and expelled an enormously powerful belch.  It was easily louder than any he’d let out up to that point, and had a serious amount of pressure behind it as it rolled out of him for a good few seconds straight, much to the amusement of the various Savanaclaw onlookers all enjoying the show.  Leona grinned sneakily to himself as he chugged.  

The more time Ruggie spent burping after each can was time Leona planned to use in order to get the heads start he needed to put him in his place.  Of course, much to his dismay, he found that his own chugging had slowed down a good deal, simply because Leona’s aching, gurgling belly was just NOT happy to be taking in such an influx of pressure all at once like this when there was still so much in need of release.

Ruggie grunted to himself, patting his stomach proudly before getting to work on his fourth soda.  Leona had slugged down his fourth already and crushed the can, gasping wearily.  He tried reaching for his fifth can, but he just couldn’t.

*GWWUUUuuUUuuurrOOOooOOooOoOoOoOrrble-GLUURRRRRP!!!*

Leona’s poor belly felt like a bubbling pit of lava; heavy and gurgling up the most unpleasant of storms.  His normally concave stomach even pressed out a bit as a result of the air that had been brewing in his gut for way too long.  Try as he might, he couldn’t hold it in for a second longer.  So, Leona grabbed his gut with one hand and let the floodgates open...

“BWWUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUOOOOOORRRHHHHH-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUPH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

The entire group went dead silent as an utterly MONSTROUS belch exploded out of Leona’s toothy maw like a terrifyingly beastly roar of a lion.   It blasted out of Leona’s mouth with such force that not only did a few flicks of saliva fly out of his mouth, but some of the other students would swear the ground vibrated with it.  The eruption rumbled out of Leona for a solid eight seconds straight and only got louder with each passing second, putting anything Ruggie had let out up til that point to absolute SHAME.

When it ended, Leona was left huffing and puffing breathlessly while the students all practically roared with cheers and applause for their dorm leader.

“Holy crap, dude, that was GNARLY!!” one of the students shouted in congratulations.

“That’s why he’s the KING!”

But Leona just grimaced and slumped forward a bit.  The pressure was still brewing.  He promptly grabbed his knees, hitched his neck, and unleashed another massive, throaty belch...

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRP!!!!!!!”

It rumbled out of his mouth aggressively and forcefully enough that one had to wonder if it made his throat hurt just getting it out.  And literally as soon as it ended, another, shorter yet rather heftier-sounding belch erupted from his maw right after that without a moments delay.

“HOOOOOOOORRRRRRUUUUUUUUUURRRRPH!!!!!”

Once the burps started rolling, they weren’t going to stop.  There was POWER behind each one Leona let out, courtesy of all the pressure that had been building in his gut with each can chugged down.   Fortunately, after spending a good thirty seconds just burping again and again, that seemed to actually settle Leona’s gurgling stomach, leaving him huffing breathlessly with relief as he massaged his belly with one hand, humming to himself.

“Gruuuooorrgh, oh man,” Leona huffed, gently petting his stomach.

Unfortunately, Ruggie had already finished his can and was on his fifth, leaving Leona now BEHIND during this contest.

“Rgh, you little...!!” Leona snarled, before grabbing his fifth can, popping the top, and downing it as fast as he could to catch up with Ruggie.  

Unfortunately, Ruggie already capitalized on his own head start by downing his soda in bigger, heartier gulps, allowing him to work it down his gullet all at once at a much faster rate than Leona.  Despite Leona having a larger capacity, Ruggie just had more experience chugging sodas down than the young lion man.  And boy, was all that practice starting to pay off...

Ruggie finished his fifth can first, crushing and carelessly discarding it shortly after that before grabbing his belly and unleashing a massive belch, followed by another right after that.  His stomach, while still flat, was starting to look a LITTLE bloated from all that soda and carbonation being downed all at once.

Leona wasn’t faring much better.  His own concave stomach had flattened with an ever so slightly rounded edge to it.  He had finished a little after, tossed the empty can and hastily reached for his sixth can, burping under his breath all the while, trying to relieve pressure without having to stop in his tracks to get it out the way Ruggie was doing.  Leona tried to go for a swig, but his stomach was still expelling pressure, causing him to burp right into his can and make the thing reverberate in his grasp, slowing him down just enough for him and Ruggie to ultimately end up slugging their beverages down at the same time, much to Leona’s ire.

The two continued slugging down their drinks, keeping things neck-in-neck.   As the cans continued piling up, both Leona and Ruggie were beginning to look a little more bloated, Ruggie especially, simply due to being so small compared to every other student within Savanaclaw.  All that soda filling him up caused his belly to earn a bit more of a rounded edge to it, pressing out noticeably against his once-loose fitting yellow shirt.  

Leona was feeling and looking pretty bloated as well.  His stomach was pressing out against his shirt to the point where a sliver of his smooth, tan stomach was now visible from the bottom of his now hiked-up shirt.  Granted, Leona could pack away enough to look like he was nine months pregnant, so too could Ruggie and pretty much every single student within the dorm.  However, as any glutton will tell you, there’s a fundamental difference for a predator being full of meat and food galore and being full of fizzy liquids.  One just inherently sits easier in the stomach than the other.

As a result, both young men were appearing noticeably groggy the longer this contest went on.   Ruggie was pausing to burp far more frequently, desperate to free his belly of as much room as he could manage.  Leona himself couldn’t hold back the MUCH louder, chest-rattling belches that erupted from his maw while he tried to get an edge on his younger right-hand companion.  

Eventually, by the time the two had reached their twelveth cans, Ruggie, who was sporting a little beer-belly by the time he’d gone that far, groaned wearily.  He brought the can to his lips and chugged as best he could, nursing it weakly, but after a few soft gulps, grimaced, pulled the can aside and shook his head.

“Guh, n-noOOrP...ungh, forget-*HIC*-it...I tap out, dude.  I-mrrph-mph, can’t take anymoOOooooOOOOORRRRP!!!”  Ruggie groaned out in between a slew of rather sloppy-sounding, wet belches and sharp hiccups.  He eased himself down onto the grass, rubbing his aching belly with both hands, occasionally burping under his breath; a far cry from the big ones he was letting out a good few cans ago...

Leona wasn’t doing much better.  He groaned to himself, looking a bit green as he massaged his aching belly with one hand from under his shirt, hiking it up and exposing his bare, bloated belly in the process, which was now pressing out by a little over a foot.  His hand firmly kneaded into his aching, gurgling gut, fingers pressing into his flesh to ease the tension of his stomach muscles or at least dislodge some pressure.

“Urgh, y-ya know, we can...UUuuUUuuurrrHAARRRP!!!  Ooorgh, w-we can call it a draw if you want...”  Ruggie croaked weakly to Leona.

In spite of his own groggy state, Leona raised a brow and smirked weakly yet confidently down at the young hyena teen.  “...Mph, what and...”   Leona paused, bringing a fist up to his mouth, unsure if he was about to burp or if he was about to be sick for a moment.  When it passed, he huffed, thumped his chest a few times and added, “...What, and forfeit when I’m on the verge of winning?  HHUUUURRRLLLOOOOORRP!!!” Leona once again brought a fist to his mouth and barely stifled a short but DEEP belch which left him groaning.  Then, after palming his chest, he grinned a toothy, fang-filled grin and said, “...Tch, I expect that sorta weakness from the Herbivores or the Fresh-Babies...”

Then, with those last words, Leona brought the can to his lips, threw his head back, and chugged down the remainder of his twelveth can.  As per usual, the students all eagerly changed “Chug!  Chug!  Chug!!” in rhythm to Leona’s Adam’s Apple throbbing in and out rapidly as he took in big, rapid gulps of soda to work it all down at once.  Even Ruggie couldn’t help but weakly chant along with his dormmates as their Dorm Leader powered through his twelveth and final can of soda.  

Leona’s belly bubbled and churned aggressively enough that the student recording the entire challenge could actually pick up on the sound of Leona’s stomach gurgling away.  But Leona clenched his eyes shut tightly and continued downing his beverage.  He kept one hand wrapped around his bloated belly, shirt still hiked up and exposing a good portion of his smooth, bare stomach; fingers clenching his taut yet soft flesh tightly.

Every single gulp was labored, but Leona was far too in the zone to care about how uncomfortable his stomach felt.  He just kept on chugging and chugging away, feeling his belly fill up with more soda than any one person or demi alike should ever be allowed to consume all at once like that.  It was deeply painful, but lazy as Leona was, he WAS a lion man after all.  And weakness was not among Leona’s many traits he was willing and eager to boast of.  

It was beyond a labor to work all that fizzy liquid down his gullet, but he managed, crushing the can and discarding it along with the other eleven, crinkled cans by his boots.  Then, to the shock of EVERYONE, Leona, snatched Ruggie’s twelveth can, which still had most of it left in.  And without even fully gulping down the rest of his own soda still in his mouth, Leona dipped his head back and chugged away.

He was beyond spent, but it didn’t matter.  This wasn’t just about winning.  This was about putting Ruggie in his place and showing him and EVERYONE watching what happens when you challenge the king.......who just happened to only be a prince...

And, to the amazement and utter bewilderment of everyone, he polished that can down to the last drop.  After an especially hearty gulp, he gasped breathlessly, flipped the can over to show but a few drops trickle down onto the grass.  Then, Leona SLAMMED the can down onto the ground along with the others, like a football player chucking a football into the ground after a touchdown.

Finally, to punctuate his victory, Leona grasped his stomach tightly, threw his head back, and expelled a THUNDEROUS belch of rather shocking magnitudes...

“BWWWUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEH-HHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUHHHH-AAAAAAARRRRRRUUUUUUUUUULPH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

What could only be described as a record ENDING belch erupted out of Leona’s maw for well over ten seconds, louder and longer than anything EITHER contestant had let out since the contest began.  All that carbonation and pressure that had been brewing in Leona’s belly had evacuated his system all at once in the form of a monstrously loud, eardrum-violating eructation.

The student recording everything had to actually step back a few feet just to keep the mic on his phone from getting messed up.

When it ended, Leona gasped breathlessly, stepping back a few feet himself, utterly winded, before turning to face Ruggie and the others and flash them all that smug, fang-filled smirk of his.  It was promptly met with thunderous applause from these rowdy young carnivores.  Even Ruggie was snickering with amazement.

“Shishishishi!  Damn, dude!  Remind me to bet on you next time we have a burping contest!”

But Leona just smugly smacked his lips and said, “Doesn’t matter how stupid this whole thing was...THAT...is why you never go up against the king in anything...”

Ruggie just smirked back at him and added, “...’cept a math quiz...”

Leona’s smirk promptly faded as he glared down at Ruggie who was once again stifling his sniggers galore.  Then, he rolled his eyes and massaged his now deeply aching belly and said, “...I’m going for a catnap...anyone who bothers me is getting eaten...”

[honestlywrites]

Clan of Three | Chapter Six (Din Djarin x Mando!Reader)

Summary: Bounty hunting soon becomes an enjoyable profession as you find yourself wanting to take on jobs without the help of your companion. This proves to be a more difficult endeavor as you get injured on the job, coming back to the Mandalorian in a state of disarray.

A/N: Canon typical violence, including descriptions of blood and wound cauterization. 

Clan of Three Masterlist

-

Bounty hunting soon grew to become a likable job, it was muscle memory the more jobs you took on. The same type of people consistently appeared in the cache of bounties, an array of bail jumpers, and wanted criminals. Any fears and hesitancy toward the life of bounty hunting were far gone which made your life much easier. Your relationship with your fellow Mandalorian still continues to be very much stagnant, though, mostly from the two of you still lacking the trust and ability to open up. It became a routine.

The Mandalorian would go into Nevarro to turn in your current bounties and to accept new ones. He would then return back to the Razor Crest and the two of you would shoot off into space on the search for the next bounties. At least you were able to explore the galaxy much more than before, seeing planets and experiencing new cultures. Whenever you were not hunting for bounties, you were in the marketplace, looking for items to spruce up the ship. There was a small bedroom just off the cockpit reserved for the pilot and the two of you switched off when you were in hyperspace to catch some sleep. You find new blankets in the market and buy them to replace the thin sheet that provides little to no warmth in the cold reaches of space. The marketplace also supplies you with rations and drink, both of which you would consume during your private time. It seemed so odd to not eat with your counterpart, but the action had become so normal with this way of life that you thought nothing of it. 

During one round of bounties, you find two criminals in the same city, probably entertaining black market deals and illegal gambling. This prompts you to ask the Mandalorian for the chance to search for a bounty by yourself for the first time.

“I’ll take one and you can take the other,” you state, taking a look at the fobs laid out in front of you. The silence of your partner makes you glance up at him, watching in anticipation.

“Are you sure?” he asks and you can feel his gaze boring into your helmet as if he could actually see your face rather than the exterior of your Beskar.  

“I found two bounties by myself before we were partners, I think I can handle one spice runner,” you tilt your chin boldly, taking the tracking fob in your hand to slide into one of your holster pockets. 

“You got lucky,” the amusement oozes off of the man in front of you and you can tell there is a slight smile on his lips from the tone of his voice.

“You just don’t want to admit that I’m as good as you,” you smile and take a few blasters off the wall to slide into the remainder of your holsters, opting to forgo your compound blaster due to the shorter ranges that you would be dealing with. The Mandalorian in front of you remains silent, slightly shaking his head as he lets out a small laugh. Once the two of you are ready, the ramp opens up and you part ways.

“The last one back gets pilot duty,” you state and watch as he takes off into the city, disappearing into the crowd. Following behind him, you split off down a series of alleyways that would funnel into the opening of the underground tunnel system. There, various illegal activities occur and you assume this is where your spice runner would be looking for his next opportunity.

Once you find an entrance, you slip into the tunnels swiftly, attempting to move with enough confidence to fit into the scene. When you enter, you notice that surrounding you there are various groups of people gathering. A fighting pit here and a game of Sabbac there, the amount of criminals gathering could not be counted on both of your hands combined. You decide not to pull out your tracking fob in the open for everyone to see, settling on the slow surveillance of the underground life. The bounty was a Trandoshan man, wanted for illegally selling spice to be transformed into recreational drugs rather than medicine.

The flow of the space makes it easy to get lost and there was a lot of entertainment to be found in the underground. It does not stop people from staring, though, and you fear that your position may be compromised through the spread of your presence in this area. Slipping into an alcove, you take the fob out to examine your proximity to the target. The red light flashes quickly and you assume that you are close. Promptly, you slip the fob back into a hidden pocket and continue to make rounds through the underground area. When you find yourself lurking around the Twi’leks, you find the man you are looking for. You try not to make a direct path to him out of excitement, but you slowly wiggle through the crowd and arrive at the couch where the Trandoshan appears to be entertaining a cluster of female Twi’leks.

“A Mandalorian. Didn’t know there were any of you still around,” the man comments and you remain silent, standing in front of the bounty where he sits behind a table. “A female one at that. Do your people reproduce?”

He looks you up and down and it takes all your willpower not to reach across the table and punch the teeth out of his mouth. The women around him giggle and you reach into your pocket and slam the puck onto the table, an image of the man appearing in the air.

“A bounty hunter? Well, you picked the wrong smuggler,” he instantly reaches for a blaster underneath the table and takes a cheap shot at you, the bolt shooting past you and burning a mark in your side. You let out a hiss of pain but do not hesitate to shoot your grapple at the man as he attempts to escape. Pressing the button, your vambrace reels him back in and you clamp a pair of binders onto his arms. 

Helping him to his feet, you are now painfully aware of the crowd that has seemed to gather around you. Pushing through, you hold the bounty’s arm in one hand and press down on your wound with the other. You make quick work of getting out of the tunnels, finding your way back to the Razor Crest quick enough. The wound continues to bleed and your mind blurs as the sun beams down, making you sweat in your layers of armor and clothing. When you arrive, your partner sits on a crate at the top of the ramp and you feel the arrogance coming off him in waves. Yet, the loss of blood makes your vision blur and you stumble onto the ramp. Instantly, the Mandalorian is on his feet, making his way down to you and the bounty.

“Shit,” he mutters when he sees the blood glistening on your gloves, grabbing the bounty and shoving him into a carbon freezer before tending to you. You found a seat on the crate that once occupied your partner, attempting to make quick work of the armor that seems to weigh you down. The ramp closes in front of you and you let out a sigh of relief when the rays of light stop attacking you with heat. 

“Do you have bacta?” you ask, the sweat dripping down your forehead and into your eyes. The temptation to rip your helmet off is strong so that you can wipe the salty droplets out of your eyes but you cannot in the presence of another.

“No,” he responds, wrapping an arm around you when you stand to move. 

“I’ll have to cauterize it then,” you state and move to a panel in the ship where you know there is a string of wires that you can attach to a soldering iron. 

“Stop, let me,” the Mandalorian sits you down on a stray crate, quickly opening the side of the ship to attach two ends of a circuit to a soldering iron. You grab the tool out of your partner’s hand, moving to begin to cauterize the wound when you shake out of fear, the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“I can’t do it, you’ll have to,” you hold the tool out to him and he gingerly takes it from you, holding it near your wound. He hesitates, looking up at you as you feel tears escape your eyes from anticipation. 

“Just do it!” you practically scream the words out and take your glove off to shove in your mouth to quiet your whimpers. The pain is gutwrenching, making you bite down onto the soft leather of your glove. Never before had you experienced such horrible pain, not since the Great Purge. Flashes of imperial stormtroopers play in your head, marching on your home and destroying everything in sight. Your buir screams your name as the enemy freely shoots, getting you in your leg. She takes you in her arms and runs to the ships, making an effort to escape the chaos with others of your kind. The memory plays like a dream as your limbs grow heavy, your eyes fluttering shut as you succumb to the lull of unconsiousness. 

Waking up in the bedroom jars you as you sit up and wince at the pain in your side. You could hear the silence of hyperspace and assume that the Mandalorian took off after you had passed out. Slowly, you get up from the bed and notice your lack of armor. It sits in a pile in a corner of the room and you smile and the gesture of him not wanting you to be uncomfortable as you slept. A warmth appears in your chest and you can only describe it as a yearning for whatever the relationship was growing to be. The fear that he might have looked at your face while you were asleep lingers in the air but you know that he would never do so, especially because he too understands the creed. At least, this is what you hope to be true. 

The increasing sentiment that grows between you and your partner continues to become an issue that you do not know how to navigate, you have not known friendship since Princess Illena but even that was prompted because of the nature of your job at the time. This experience is different because of how much you both know and do not know about each other. The two of you understand the creed, the way of life that you both adhere to but beyond this, you can only begin to put together the pieces of his personality and experiences. Your mind runs rampant and you decide to escape the darkness of the room for the companionship of your fellow Mandalorian. Standing from the bed is a slow process and you gently press your hand to your wound as pain shoots through your side. Slowly moving out of the small room and into the cockpit, the door slides open and you smile as the Mandalorian turns in his chair.

“You’re awake,” he muses and you nod, moving to sit in the co-pilot seat. There is silence as the two of you stare at each other, unfamiliar with the fondness and intimacy you had experienced.

“Thank you for doing that,” you state and sigh, looking out as the stars streak past in lines of light.

“Of course, you would do the same for me,” he turns to man the ship once again and you feel the conversation come to an end, sitting in the comfortable silence that you had grown accustomed to. “You had me worried for a moment, there,”

The words come out in a soft mutter and you think that you imagined them somehow, but find a growing warmth in your chest that had not been there before. 

“I’m stronger than I look,” you smile and he turns to look at you, hesitant to explore this newfound friendship.

“I know that now.”

[tartagilicious]

Can I request an au with Arthur where he falls in love with you in present day? Thank you🥺❤️

this is so different from my regular writing style holy shit 

[9:28PM] “You’re certainly a sight for sore eyes tonight, ___. ” Your best friend coos from where he’s seated beside you, swiping a curious finger over your arm as you playfully roll your eyes. “Absolutely beautiful.”

Arthur is a masterful writer, and you had always naturally assumed that was what made him such a suave speaker. He didn’t hold back on those types of things even when it came to you, often having your legs feeling like jelly for all the wrong reasons. 

Words have never cared for boundaries, that’s for sure. Especially if they’re coming from him.  

“Thanks, Arthur. You don’t look too bad yourself.” You joke around with a carefree laugh, your eyes crinkling in a small smile as he feigns hurt. You go through a similar routine most weekend nights, compliments falling freely from the man’s mouth as you get tipsy over cheap strawberry-flavoured liquor. Those evenings, you sit close together on his couch having rendezvous fit for lovers, and moments filled with memories in making, but most of all — smiles that would better suit someone who wasn’t in pain.

Every weekend, your heart is broken over and over again. Not that he knows that, of course. 

His ocean-like eyes study yours as you fade into your own thoughts, a whisper of a smile studding his perfect lips. 

“Judging from the look on your beautiful face, I would say you think it’s more than that.”

He teases you relentlessly, but you still narrow your eyes in a rush of confidence that only alcohol is able to gift. 

“Who can ever tell what I’m thinking?” You chide, paying close attention to the way his brows twitch. “You certainly can’t.”

You take another sip of your drink, holding onto the slim flute with a single shaking hand. You may have looked confident, sounded confident, yet you were anything but. Your heart was being ripped in two once again with every measly wave of your own careless hand. 

If Arthur is mused by your words, he doesn’t show it, just gazing at you with unreadable eyes. Whether it’s in concern or fascination, you’re certain you’ll never know, but it’s not as if you would prefer to anyway. 

“No,” Arthur whispers suddenly, his voice going soft. “You’re as easy to read as the words I put down on paper myself.”

Your lips freeze on the rim of the glass, the slightly carbonated liquid momentarily stinging your skin. You have little idea what he means by that, quickly stealing a gaze from him out of the corner of your eye. But he is already looking at you, his eyes gentle and all-too telling. The eyes you would get lost in if you didn’t try to hold back. 

“Am I?” You mumble, gathering your courage and bringing the delicate flute down from your lips and putting it down with enough candour to look him straight in the eyes without wavering. “I think, for once, you’re mistaken, Arthur.”

Arthur breaks your gaze to set his empty glass down on the coffee table in front of you as well. He’s always been a drinker, able to hold liquor much better and longer than you ever could; but you don’t know if that makes you feel better or worse in this situation. Because unlike you, he is completely and eerily in control of whatever he does.

And yet, he could very well perfectly mask the words that came out of his mouth. You knew that he could mask his tone if he wanted to. But, he did none of that, rather baring himself out in the open for you to see clearly. It’s not like him at all. 

“I’m not.” His voice is insistent, but not pushy. You don’t so much as flinch as the words leave his mouth, rather meeting his eyes instead. They’re strangely uncertain, more than even you have ever seen from him. 

With your close proximity, he reaches over and drags a hesitant hand along the subtle curve of your spine. He touches you delicately, as if you’re the paper in the very book he had spoken of, and your mind can conjure up no complaints. 

Your eyes flutter shut as you catch one last glimpse of Arthur’s tormented expression. 

“You’re beautiful.”

Arthur repeats the very words he’d said earlier, but this time, they carry much more weight. Your whole body trembles with tension, of curiosity of what’s to come, and as you finally grasp his free hand, you utter, 

“Do you love me?”

You ask this without warning to even yourself, but can’t help your expression of surprise when Arthur merely smiles. Then, his mouth is on yours without even so much as a verbal response. Though, you doubt that you’ll need one. You tightly shut your eyes against what you’re about to do, and press your fingers so hard into his palm as you kiss him that they leave small and angry red moons in their wake. 

But he doesn’t kiss you as though it hurts. His kiss is nothing but soft; yearning. 

The world slows as if it’s hot magma running over the very concept of time itself, every action minimised down to the very detail. You can barely think. You’ve wanted this for so long and feared it for even longer, but now that it’s happening, you don’t know how you will ever want anything else.  

[benbantz]

Week 17 with long term Covid

Hello to anyone reading this, those I know and those I don’t.

Had Covid 19 now for 17 weeks (or suffering after effects of covid, how ever you want to word it.) Point is had/have Corona and it’s still kicking my arse.

So since my recent facebook update (after being pretty quiet on social media for a while) a couple of peeps have messaged me asking about my symptoms and stuff as (apart from the first 2-3 weeks) I haven't really gone into any detail I just sort of say 'having rough week' or 'things flared up again' etc etc. Without going into too much detail about anything specific. So for anyone interested, and because people have been curious and asking - and as you’ll see is far to detailed to explain person to person (and want to spread the word about long haulers as a lot of people struggling) So it’s just easier for me to have it in one place. For myself more then anything. And if you get anything out of it then that’s great.

Things are just starting to come out about long haulers in the media and on the news and I know people are interested to learn a bit more about it all. So while I’m having a not too bad a time last couple of days I’d thought it’s a good a time as any to go thru all my symptoms. Get them typed out for first time.

And maybe it will be helpful to someone who randomly comes across this post - (thou please don’t use as a guide), every case is different, a lot of similarities   and cross overs , but ultimately different  Just because someone you know might be having a rough couple of days or experiencing a couple of these symptoms it could be something completely unrelated to covid. (Make sure you check with your GP or call 111 if you think you have covid symptoms long term or otherwise.) I am not a Dr.

Here's a list of everything been going on with me over last 17 weeks.           Some experiences have been completely new to me so very hard to explain , some descriptions may sound a little odd , but hopefully you get idea of what I mean! (Also sorry for any grammar mistakes....I dropped out of English A level)

Those who come across this and don’t know me personally know that while this is a (mostly) serious (but hopefully uplifting) post I’m very sarcastic and use dumb humour to deflect from how shit life is at the moment! :-) 

So first thing of the bat I'll explain is I've realised in recent weeks it's been easier to think of it as good and bad days/weeks rather then getting better/worse (as in first 10 or so weeks when I thought of it as 'it's getting better' and got in that positive mindset, the kickbacks have obviously beaten the piss out of me mentally as well as physically, as I've had about four big relapses now where I thought I'm on the right track, having a good couple of weeks then bam, I seem to go back to square one for no real apparent reason. So when I say bad day I'm describing when everything amps/flares up again, A few more symptoms go up and the volumes up on high,and likewise a good day is when things seem to be moving in right direction again and I get a bit of a break.(So now I just appreciate them when they come and try make most out of them.) A good day isn’t a symptom free day by any means, it’s just better then the bad ones.

OK so on to my symptoms.

Specific Areas

Chest - Since the first evening it kicked of early March my chest has felt like a giant has had his hand around it - that’s non stop, constant (told you my explanations were weird.)

On the better days it's a very light grip I can get on and do things to a point, but I am always aware it's there. On a bad day it's grip tightens and he squeezes (or  his fingers press into a couple of key areas - been pressing on my back a lot last few weeks.) - That’s been non stop and has not gone away since beginning. Thou I do believe its starting to ease a little. 

- Chest pain - A shooting pain in my chest (slightly different from description above, feels more like its needles on inside of body. Thankfully these are uncommon, they pop up if I push myself a bit too far one day or if I’m having rougher week.(And it’s not heart related)

Lungs/Breathing - Haven't felt like I've taken in a full lungful of air since beginning, I take a deep breath but only feels like I'm taking in 80- 85% ish (on a good day) 65- 75% ish (on a bad day) - This is week 17 numbers btw,  take maybe 10-15% off when it was at worst. I think the best way I can describe it is it feels like there’s a filter or a sieve/strainer at top of lungs, on a good day there’s more spaces available to breathe thru (but still there’s a filter) and on a bad day more spaces close and I'm breathing thru less.

 *Thankfully bar the first week where I had to get paramedic out, I haven't been gasping for air, I've certainly had to just lay and just concentrate on only breathing a few times because the filters have closed up a lot more (in the night mostly) especially where my bodies relaxed and I've woken and panicked short of air. Yes that’s as terrifying as it sounds.

- The air I do take in doesn't feel clean or fresh (best way I can describe it is when you go to a zoo and they have a indoor Rain Forrest/safari area .... very that lol) That was constant the first 12 or so weeks (even when getting fresh air outside) thankfully that’s eased a little and not so prominent, still doesn't feel like I’m breathing in fresh air but its not so hot and stuffy and noticing the difference when I go outside now.

Throat/Mouth - Burning/inflamed mouth - This is by far been the most uncomfortable/hardest for me to ignore and just get on with day to day stuff, from maybe week 6 to week 14 it was pretty much non stop burning mouth and throat (Call my mum Khaleesi because I was spitting fire.)

 Whole inside of my mouth and down my throat was just inflamed/swollen (felt like I had a golf ball stuck down there) and burning hot. The last couple of weeks its eased I don’t wake up with it (unless i’m having a flare up/bad day) It's still very on/ off but thankfully not constant like it was. And have since learned that high histamine foods make it worse - same with my chest and few other things,  (so choc, dairy, alcohol, fizzy drinks ...my diet essentially ) So have cut most of them down/out. Ice lollies have been my savior on hot throat days. - Marble in throat - Another hard one to explain, it feels like there’s a marble sort of sized ball of phlegm that I constantly need to clear. (OK maybe not that hard to explain - also sorry for the gross imagery.) But not enough mucus coming up to warrant the feeling, it’s irritating more then anything - but a few weeks ago was probs golf ball sized, so again improvement! - This sort of ties in with with the inflamed mouth, but the first thing to flare up on bad day is my tongue, feels tingly most of the time anyway but more so on a flare up/bad day.  - Same with my teeth / gums and the tingly sensation, (my teeth constantly feel like that sensation when you have some orange juice after brushing your teeth.) Sensitive/fuzzy I guess. Not particularly bothersome or concerning...just weird.

Nose

- This is probably one of newest ones, nose has felt hot(on and off)/bunged up for last few weeks. (But I know its not if that makes sense)  I guess you could say same as lungs - not breathing in a full nose-full of air either.  - sorry again for gross TMI but any mucus or boogers are clear (like almost see thru clear/never been cleaner clear)  - Phantom smells - A really odd one, I smell smoke and gas a lot, not just smell it, it feels like its in my nose and my mouth - especially smoke, almost like I’ve eaten it sometimes (non smoker in smoke free flat btw). Was a lot more prominent in first few weeks ,so much so that before I realised it was a symptom I had my carbon monoxide alarms checked because it was making me paranoid I could smell smoke/gas. A bizarre one for sure. Pops up randomly now and again.

Eyes - Last couple of weeks have been getting bit of blurry vision and sore or dry eye , I'm already blind as shit so hard to tell in terms of blurriness how bad this one is, but def finding it harder to concentrate on one thing for too long (but that sort of ties in with brain fog - which i'll get to) but pretty sure once this is done with and I go to opticians will likely need a stronger prescription (some other long haulers who never had eye problems before are now having to wear glasses) No idea if that’s a permanent one but hopefully i’m at peak of it.

Ears - My left ear has felt blocked pretty much since start (or like it needs to pop some days) Most the time I can ignore it but can be quite distracting if it kicks up a couple of dials.Which is likely why I get ear ache in same ear often as well.

*Also for most the things listed above it has always been worse on my left side of body, lung, eyes, ear, headaches.

- Tinnitus (correct word for ringing in ears right?) Usually kicks in early afternoon or on bad day. Varies on strength depending on the day I’m having.

Head/Brain - Brain Fog - So the sort of very basic science behind this is because my lungs aren't producing enough oxygen my brain knows this, so is lending them some to help out...but because of this it means I’m experiencing what is known as brain fog (I don’t know what its actually called, likely has a better more official sounding name) - my concentration is very low, i’m finding it hard to retain things and concentrate more then usual. (not been up to reading or watching something new for month or so as I just cant focus on it) Also been getting odd words muddled or confused (but the bar wasn't the highest with me on that front ha ha)

 Been dropping things when I think I have them in my hand. I do however think this is improving (The fact that I have typed this out with just a couple short breaks so far is much better then two weeks ago when I couldn't even focus on a computer game for more then half a hour) so as my lungs improve so does this or vice versa on flare up. *Edit - This whole post has taken a couple of days to draft and type up, so not too bad in terms of needing breaks etc.

-I'm also constantly aware of my brain... like I can feel it all the time (I literally cant explain that any other way lol, I guess its just heavier at moment so I can feel it against my skull) best explanation I think you'll get from that one. - Have a headache most the time (so much so that I sort of forget it’s there.) Thankfully most the time there mild/low and I can forget or distract myself but like everything else if I'm having a bad few days it goes up a notch. Likely connected to the brain fog.

Stomach and Lower abdomen - Period pains - only way I can explain it, generally thought after nearly 10 years without them it was messing my body about so much I was getting  phantom periods. (I’m a transgender man, 4+ years on testosterone, for anyone I don’t know who comes across this) been there done that, brought the t-shirt.. then sent it back because it wasn’t for me!  Very strong and painful on and off for first eight weeks, get the odd twinge now and again but think that ones done with, thank the gods. - Stomach Pains - Few aches and pains on /off, and recently experienced what felt like needle/stabbing pain for short while in short bursts - and I only really mention stomach because I haven't had the widely publicised  'covid shits' (yet, touch wood... or cloth) So yay!

Heart - Palpitations - First 8 weeks was on and off most days to the point if I was sat still my heart would be palpitating. (I couldn't even sit and listen to music I enjoyed as it would make my heart go mad.) - When I do get the palpitations it sets most things off, so if palpitations do start I generally know I'm about to have rough couple of hours or days and can’t do much, for obvious safety reasons. Thankfully these have subsided a lot last 6 or so weeks. Still get them every few days but generally know whats setting me off and how to lower them down and they don’t last as long.

Hands and Feet - Skin been very dry last couple of months, cracking and peeling on hands and feet (ew)  - Pins and needles/ numb fingers and toes - Get this a lot, obviously very normal stuff but just find them coming on a lot more (especially if i’m holding something like my ipad, phone or xbox controller for a while) Fingers feel numb/puffy a lot too. (Likely also why I keep dropping things) - Also to tie in with skin, have had a on /off spots on chest, face and shoulders for few weeks, they all came up at same time, not irritant or itchy or anything, just there.

General/Other weird things - Voice - So this is one that frustrates me the most, I have had next to no voice for last maybe 10 weeks.  I just cant chat to people at moment. For first 4 weeks wasn't to bad (I even started a youtube channel to keep me occupied and distracted) but slowly week by week it went a little bit more each time. I can talk for short periods of time if I have to/choose to ,like its not gone completely, but it kicks up all the things I mentioned in my throat and mouth directly after. If the phone rings I have to decide if it’s worth answering, in doing so knowing i’m going to have a rough day or so after. Someday’s I feel it's better then others like couple of weeks ago, chatted to my brothers online on xbox for half an hour or so for the first time in weeks, and caught up with a friend on phone for 10 minutes...but a couple of days later everything flared up again. So it's still trial and error and just being patient with my voice. (I'm quite confident no long term damage is being done now as few people in group i’m in reported there voice just eventually got better over time.) Definitely the symptom I’m having to be most patient with. - Fatigue and tiredness - My days now are normally diddily done by 4-5, (except if its a bad day then most of the day is a write off) No matter how little or much I've done, by 5-6 my body and mind are exhausted. As someone who has insomnia, pre covid I would maybe have 1-2 all nighters every ten or so days sprinkled in with 5-6 days of at most 3-4 hours sleep. In the last 17 weeks I have had just 3 all nighters, and maybe just under ten 3-4 hour sleeps. Otherwise i’m getting at least 5+ hours a night. This is the one covid thing I'd like to keep please lol.  I think it's easing a little (most the bad night sleeps have been in last month) and on good days tiredness is kicking in a little later, or it's taking me a little longer to drift off. But generally am cream crackerd a lot of time, especially if I push myself too far on a bad day. - Loss/Increased appetite - This sort of ties in with what I mentioned earlier about different foods causing set backs, the first 6 weeks I had no appetite and lost a bit of weight (I do put a lot of this down to extreme worry and stress thou)  Then I went thru a phase of being very hungry for a few weeks and put most of the weight I had lost back on. I'm somewhere in the middle now, probably because I know most of anything I eat will set me back a little (because as mentioned fussy git = high histamine diet) so i’m cutting portions (otherwise known as the amount of cheese I add to everything!) and cutting out all most junk food (you’ll never part me from my crisps!) and non healthy drinks.  

- Bloated and dehydration - This one I sort of put in pencil because it could be covid related but I also think it could be side effects  from the brown asthma inhaler I was prescribed to help with breathing. I’m still undecided as it pops up especially when I was using inhaler more but it does happen days after I’ve last used it. At it’s worse I was getting up to pee a lot! because I was thirsty all the time. So of course was just very bloated around the belly. 

*Also talking of peeing, (Great segway Ben) number 1′s and 2′s have been very different then normal, urine thicker and bubbly,and smells/is coloured different,   (same with 2′s) Also have a completely different body odour at the moment,(pungent) having to use deodorant twice as much as normal. - Admit it your life’s a little bit better now you know that information.

- THE HEAT! - I touched on this with my mouth and nose being on fire, but for the first 10-12 weeks I did not go a day where at least a couple of things were not burning hot ,like hot to the touch as well, not just inside...(very different experience then having a temperature). Extreme heat in one very specific part of body. Ears, forehead, cheeks, chest, back, nose, mouth,throat to name a few of prominent ones. Over time they have faded (if something does feel hot now its generally not hot to the touch anymore.) Maybe on a bad day a couple of things will burn up. (But in saying that, been calling today a good day but nose is quite hot) but point is its better. - Mood swings/Anxiety - While i’m fairly confident anything emotional has stemmed from experiencing...well everything you've just read. Rather then it being its own symptom (thou I have had days of uncontrollable crying, days of anger..that perhaps outside of covid I would still of had one of those days but just not to such a extreme, I think with everything going on its just amped that emotion and anxiety up.)  it's obviously been very stressful and anxiety inducing. That’s only calmed down in last week since finding the facebook group of other people going thru the same thing. I'm now seeing that people are slowly improving, i'm seeing I've not been going mad and it's all very real and not just happening to me. So the bad days are easier to deal with now and not hitting me emotionally like a ton of bricks anymore. I honestly couldn't see the end of the tunnel two weeks ago but can see it now (even if I take a step forward one day but then 2-3 back another...I see it still.)

*Mushy moment Alert - A good a place as any to include while I'm talking about emotion  - Even thou she probs wont see this,but want to mention my mum. She’s been my rock thru all this, she messages me at least twice everyday without fail, since day 1. Even thou I know she's been worried sick about me herself, she's reassured and calmed me down on the harder more stressful days. I dread the mornings when things have gone downhill a bit and having to tell her ,because I know she'll worry, but after a few texts we both end up sort of reassuring and calming the other down. (especially in the earlier days when it was really bad, scary, new and unknown.) When it was really getting me down for a while and I wanted nothing to do with anything covid related and just stay in bed and pretend this wasn't happening to me, she dug out the articles and tips and things to help or give me a boost. (Not to mention all the coming and going she and my step dad have done for me last 4 months and taking care of my shopping for first 9 or so weeks...because I was a useless mess of a human)       I know it’s basic mum stuff but this would be 10x harder and lonelier without her. Random detour I know but can’t talk about my covid experience and recovery without mentioning her.

Almost looking forward to sending her the first  'Everything normal today' text as much as I look forward to experiencing it....almost. ;-)  

Amount of Symptoms On A Typical Day

On a good day - (when I think virus was at it's worse in the first 10-14 weeks) - 4-6 symptoms ( 2 or 3 cranked up to a medium or high otherwise on mild)

On a bad day - At peak/worse - 6-10 symptoms (throat, chest and no voice on high volume, maybe a couple of things like palpitations and brain fog, heat on medium/high, other weird stuff on mild/low)

Good day  - Now 17 weeks in (excluding my voice which is still a medium to high issue most days) - 3-4 Symptoms on low to mild - usually there’s something still simmering on a medium always ready to turn up to a high if I push it too much in terms of walking or talking. (often my chest) Bad Day (Now) - 4-7 Symptoms - 1 to 3 on medium (maybe a couple will kick up to high on first day of a flare up, but generally now for shorter periods of time.)Everything else on mild or low.

So there has def been improvement in last 6 weeks, i’m sure it wont all be plain sailing and I know/prepare to expect another 'flare up' and then a bad few days. But recently instead of the bad days being 2-3 weeks of it constantly, the duration is getting shorter each time (last bad few days was just under a week)  So things are slowly improving, and i’m sure in time so will the amount of symptoms and the strength of each symptom.

I've probably missed a couple of silly/odd little things that have gone on (likely because they were so early on or very brief (or I’ve forgotten) -  fever and nausea to name a couple. When I got my notes together these were the main ones that came to mind. Quite a lot actually sitting back reading them, and I think the scary (but good) thing is, x-ray came back fine, bloods came back fine.  People have had MRI's, camera’s down there throat, most coming back fine. Covid just not showing up on any tests(unless someones suffered further complications with something) - hence why a lot of people struggling to be taken seriously by there GP's or even loved ones who think there just 'exaggerating’ or its just ‘anxiety and stress'...no living with all what you just read causes anxiety and stress Mary! 

But yeah could waffle on, once its definitely gone and I breathe and look back I can perhaps get a better overview of everything and give you better analysis of all that’s gone on. I get asked 'so when do you think it will be gone?' almost as much as 'are you better now?' To the first question, meh I don't know, I'm now into month 4/week 17 (well month 5 if I include last couple of days of Feb when I believe I caught it and had the very mild cold early March) still a lot of things going on with my body, some new things could still pop up, so instead of saying 'I think it will be gone by..'  ,like I did in the first weeks. I'm just taking it week by week (or day by day if it kicks up a notch) not making any big demands of myself or my body, doing what I can each day....but not pushing it. Instead of the sad, anxiety inducing thought 'when will it go' or the one all us long haulers worry about a lot ‘Will it ever go?’ I now try to think instead  'it will go!.'

To any fellow long haulers I say hang in there, keep fighting, trust your body and that it will get better. Take it day by day. Stay as positive as you can when everything 'flares up again' after a couple of weeks of good progress (easier said then done I know) but know it wont be forever as much as it feels like it is. Don’t be afraid to ask for help (I hate going to Drs would much rather just 'get on with it' , but from pestering a little I got a blue inhaler which has helped me a lot day to day,and had x-ray and blood tests which also put my mind at ease when they came back clear. So don’t be afraid to ask to get these things checked if you’re worried. I've been lucky with my GP's thou who I think have generally believed me and taken me seriously and I know not everyone is getting that help or respect. I think it’s really not helped us that in the early days people were stubbing their toes and thinking they had caught covid and calling their Dr’s (I’m exaggerating but hopefully you get my point lol), so if you do get a not so helpful interaction, be patient,explain yourself or try again with another Dr, remember a GP will only advise you symptom by symptom and not as a whole.   Anyway I’m repeating stuff you already know by now lol.   

Stay positive. Stay hopeful and stay safe.

To anyone else, believe us, know this is very real, and that it absolutely sucks. Its not just anxiety or in our head. We're not exaggerating - in fact most of us are probably playing it down or just not elaborating on things for an easy life and because when someone asks 'are you better now?'  it's easier to just smile and nod and answer 'getting there slowly' because the truth is...well what you just read lol. (And I'm a particularly mild case...next to no coughing, no spells in A and E, a breeze for a lot of other people with long term) Keep yourselves safe (most long haulers have no previous medical /problems/conditions. Some ,myself included, have weakened immune systems due to a long term health condition. A unlucky few are fighting another long term medical illness as well as covid. I'm lucky in that I have no dependants (except 4 easy to please gecko's) and was not working prior to catching it - some are having to deal with all this and be full time parents, or have been to and fro with their jobs (thinking there better then relapsing after going back). There’s mums messaging on behalf of there young kids who have it, lots of young people (one of the lads that co runs the group is 22 I believe), there's athletes/health fanatics used to running miles every day been completely knocked of there game unable to even walk to end of road some days. People of all age ranges. Point is anyone can catch it, it might not just be 'a couple of rough weeks' It might take over half a year for you to recover from.  This myth that it's short and sweet, or a walk in the park if your young and healthy needs to be squashed because its just not accurate. 

If not for my mum and our family and the facebook group I found, (Positive path of wellness - Covid UK Long Haulers) I'd be struggling, really struggling. It's scary, brutal and lonely. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. The virus is still out there it has not gone. Keep sanitising hands and wear a mask in busy places!. - Tell the guy who's life this has been for 17 weeks, why wearing a mask in public places, to keep yourself and others safe from catching this nightmare, is a inconvenience for you Karen...go on, I'll wait...

Maybe you can help prevent yours or someone else's next few months from being even worse. x

Was going to just make this a one time post on tumblr account but if it’s a help to anyone (especially fellow long haulers) I’ll post some other bits and bobs when i’m up to it. (thinking of doing a post about things/products etc that I think have been helping me. If that’s useful to anyone) Or just some positive/ funny things to keep spirits up. Keeping it all positive and upbeat as possible.

So I’ll see if anyone reads this first and go from there

So I guess in conclusion ...lol I’m just joking, this post is really done now, go back to your lives, this garbled mess of self woe (worlds smallest violin is back in its case now), sarcasm and naff humour has taken up far too much of all of our days already. Go peacefully amongst the things. :-) 

Stay safe everyone x

[vinummagicae]

weeks have turned to months and your journey to olympus, your acceptance of your life as a demigod, has lead up to this moment. it's been brutal, wrought with pain and close calls, thick with loss, but you've endured. as you begin to get ready to sleep, winding down for the night, something inside of you feels different. there's a strength that grows that you only dimly knew was there before. you feel stronger, faster, more attuned to your senses and your own inner power. if you ever doubted that you might have divine blood in your veins before, now, more than ever, you feel it. 

as soon as your head hits the pillow you fall fast asleep, exhausted from the events that have lead up to this point. who knows however long later, you "awaken". you're not where you fell asleep, nothing is as it was when you slept. you have to blink a few times but you realize that you're in a place that seems familiar to you. describe this place? what does it look like, sound like, smell like?

Opening his hazel eyes, Ender looked around to see that he was no longer in the tent fast asleep next to the son of Apollo, but instead standing. The lights were bright and shining down at him in a way that blinded him temporarily. Raising a hand to cover the lights as his eyes got  adjusted to the sudden brightness, it took a few times of blinking before he could make sense of where he was. Standing in the middle of a stage, he was facing an auditorium where every red velvet upholstered seat lied empty. Glancing to his left and then right, Ender soon realised that he was alone standing there in the middle of the stage, in fact he was the only one from what he could tell in the building. He had been in this room before, several times in fact but never on this stage. He had sat in the mezzanine when he came to see Hamilton with his best friend, Cole, and years before that sat front and center as he watched Romeo and Juliet be performed here. It had always been his dream to stand on this stage - or any stage in Broadway -  to take the shape of a character and drop his old skin for a few hours but he never got to live that dream. Smiling to himself, the drunken demigod took a deep breath and inhaled the familiar scent of the theatre, they all smelled the same to him, and relaxed instantly. It smelled like home.  

the auditorium is as beautiful as you remember it. the overhead lights beam down on you and send your shadow in almost all directions. 

the air is filled with the familiar scent of hardwood and red velvet. even with the seats empty, you can feel the thrill of a performance thrumming beneath your veins. 

then you hear someone or something clearing their throat. you could’ve sworn this place was empty, except for you. you look around, hazel eyes trying to find the source, and see a figure sitting in the front row, directly center. the bright lights make it hard to see through but they shift to illuminate the figure. 

who or what do you see? describe what they look like and how they make you feel.

It was almost as if he could tell who was sitting there in the front row from the second he heard that familiar clear of a throat. How many times have he heard it directed towards him when he knew he was to be scolded for ‘not acting his age’ or whatever else the fine dressed man felt like getting onto him about that day/week/month. Taking a heavy sigh that he could feel throughout his whole body, Ender closed his eyes for a second almost as if he kept them close then he wouldn’t be able to see the white haired man sitting there, glaring at him and judging him for wanting this in life. Wanting to feel the thumm under his skin and pretend he wasn’t the same person that he was outside of this building-- There was one person who hated Ender McKenzie more than he did himself, and it was the man sitting there front and center. He could almost hear him say ‘Edward’ before he even had the chance to do so. Roger, his step father, never called him by the nickname he had given himself before he even met the guy, deciding that nicknames weren’t professional or some other bullshit. Then again nothing Ender ever did was in Roger’s agenda for the life he had planned for him.  Yet he always said he never wanted to be a father figure for the young child when he first married his mother. It seemed he just wanted to control him instead. Wanting a carbon copy of his real son-- someone to take over the business when he retired, who was married to a pretty little blonde and had a couple of kids. Big shock to him when Ender came out gay. Though it wasn’t really a shock when a kid grew up dreaming of standing on a stage like this, singing musicals around the house and talked about how Harrison Ford was handsome now was it? 

“Can you just not?” Ender asked before the voice could even speak, pinching the bridge of his nose; the feeling of safeness he felt just seconds before when he realized where he was standing was now gone. Then again Roger always was the best at stripping him raw, exposing who he was really on the inside and then leaving him bleeding out expecting Ender to stitch himself back up again and be the person he wanted the drunken demigod to be. Too bad for his step-father, it never worked out that way. 

roger sits there poised, hands resting on the arm rests, eyes focused on you. he doesn't react when you speak, only stares for what feels like an endless moment. this is the man who would turn you into a fraud, who would rip the happiness from your hands and turn you into a reflection of himself and his son—who would take your individuality and your freedom of self away just so HE could find some ounce of happiness. 

a smile curls along his lips and he brings his hands to rest in front of his chest, fingertips resting against fingertips. 

he opens his mouth to speak and you can't hear anything at first. the sound of the clearing throat is gone and instead it's replaced by something that sounds muffled. you can see him, he's only a couple dozen feet away from you, maybe, but trying to hear him and identify what he's saying is as if he's screaming from hundreds of feet away. 

you strain your ears to listen and then it all clicks into place. the voice is audible as if he's standing right beside you, talking into your ear. 

what is the voice you hear? does it belong to roger? is it someone else's? describe what you hear and how that voice makes you feel.

For a second, Ender is relieved. He can’t hear him and it makes him chuckle some. It almost feels like he is a young child sticking his fingers into his ear to avoid listening to their parents scold them. Though the feeling doesn’t last long and soon the familiar voice fills his ears--

It’s a deep and rumbling voice. More bass than baritone as if he was constantly grumbling or growling in his direction. Which he usually was in Ender’s case. It was one that could always fill him with dread.

The first time he was scared of that voice was when Roger sat him down and told him he was going away for a bit and wasn’t coming back until he was better. He was fifteen and it was also the first time he screamed out loud for his real father not knowing who he was or why he was calling out for the greek god. Just that he was scared and didn’t want to ‘go get help’ when he was perfectly fine. The second time he was scared of that deep voice was when he came out of the closet. He hadn’t been home from the psychiatric hospital for long before he came out of the closet - though again it wasn’t that much of a shock for everyone -. Ender still had the scar on his chin from that day that he hides under the slight stubble he always wears now. There had been other times he had been scared of that voice, never knowing what was to come from it. Too many times to count actually and he had given up trying by the time he hit twenty-one and could ‘legally’ drink. Alcohol always helped when it came to his step-father. He learned that at young age.

When the man speaks this time it’s one word, the word Ender had expected him to say before he even opened his mouth and the relaxing exhale he had taken moments before was gone and replaced with tension. As if someone had wound up every muscle in his body and he was ready to snap. All over one fucking word. “Edward.” 

Gods he hated that name. 

"edward," roger says once more, the voice a deep bass, a growl that rumbles through the speakers of the auditorium as if he's hooked up to a microphone. "i've been waiting for you." 

he doesn't move from his spot, still sits there with his eyes focused on you as if he's trying to gauge who you are now to who you were then. there's the unseen scars that linger beneath the surface, hidden away from sight from everyone but you. but he's the reason many of those exist. 

"you've kept me waiting." he says, finally standing up. he seems taller than you remember, towering over you even from his seat in the front row. "that disappoints me."

Was he always that tall or did he just have that way of making himself appear that way to him? Ender couldn’t remember, perhaps it was because when he still looked at him he felt like the 15 year old boy that was being told he was going away against his will. The man towered over him then and continued to do so even when he hit his own growth spurt that now made him over 6 feet tall. Yet the man before him could make him feel like he was 2 feet tall…

Sometimes never changed. 

“I thought I always disappointed you,” Ender said with ever so slightly a quiver to his voice at his words. Cursing himself he told himself to get a grip, to not let fear show as he planted his feet firmly on the ground of the stage. He had faced ogres and huge ass wasps and came out alive. He could face his step-father. Right? He hoped so anyway.

“What do you want? Can we make this quick? I have someone to get back to.” 

"always is a strong word, edward." 

roger moves from his seat and begins to walk along the long, almost endless row of red velvet seats. when he gets to the aisle, he stops to stare at you, hand resting on one of the large backs of the seats. the spotlight follows him, follows him for every step he takes. 

"we have as much or as little time as you may need, edward. i have waited this long, even if it displeases me. but you know about causing upset and unrest, don't you? what is it about you that makes you so rebellious?"

Ever the narcissist he tries not to be, Ender’s jaw clenched when the spotlight started to follow the older man. Here stood a man who made sure in his power that he could not end up on stage for a living, was now taking _his_ spotlight from him. Oh the irony was not lost on him and he added it to the list of many things why he hated this man. 

“Rebellious?” It was the first time in a long time, Ender actually laughed around the man and it was dry and bitter. "Who? Me?" 

It was a rhetorical question and they both knew it. Ender could count on one hand how many times this man had to bail him out of jail and pay the cops off just because he was hanging around the wrong crowd again. How many times his mother and him told Ender they had a fund set aside for his funeral because all three of them knew that it was only a matter of time before his coke and alcohol addictions caught up to him and they got the call that he was dead somewhere. None of them expected him to make it to the age of 30 and, well,  look at him now. 

“Why do you even want to know?” Ender asked as he began to pace back and forth on the stage, his hazel eyes staying on Roger the whole time. “Why do you even care? You made it abundantly clear over the years you were never a father to me, though you sure did try to punish me like one. Every little thing I did wrong you were there to make sure it was known how displeased you were with me.” Pacing from stage left he moved towards stage right before asking yet again, "Why do you care? No one cared what happened to me, no one ever cared about me except--” Except Cole. This made him stop, eyes going wide as he was hit with the realization of what he had done all over again. How he toyed the boy around for years, playing with his feelings, using him for sex until the day his best friend told Ender how he really felt. No he wasn’t going there right now. Not ever. “So I will ask you again, what do you want?” 

"i want your honesty, i want to know who you are." 

it's a strange thing coming from the man who, for so many years, never wanted to know who YOU were but only wanted you to be what HE wanted. he walks to the edge of the stage and the spotlight begins to flicker in and out, as if it can't stay lit for too much longer. you watch as roger raises a hand, waves it to the stage in a dismissing wave—a practiced one, you remember how easily he dismissed you when he was done with you—and you're no longer on the stage, but sitting in the same seat you sat when you saw hamilton, but you feel as if you can see the stage and every thing about it like you were still standing there. 

you blink a few times and realize that roger is sitting beside you. the stern face, the disappointed set of his jaw and eyes, isn't there. his eyes don't even look like his, you realize. but someone else's, someone kind. 

do you recognize the eyes? who do they belong to? 

"i only want you to be honest with me and yourself." roger says. 

"who are you?"

“Who are you?” It was a question Ender had asked himself so many times in his life; growing up, school, college, even now. There were moments he stared at himself in the mirror at camp and asked that to his reflection and the answer was always the same. “I am weak.” He didn’t glance at the pair of eyes but kept them on the stage wishing he was back up there. Where he belonged to be. It was like a magnetic pull inside him, trying to get him to go back up there but he couldn’t move. “I am weak.” He said again with a shake of his head, gripping the armrests of his seat to the point his fingers were turning white from his grip on them. “I am a high functioning alcoholic who only hurts the people who love him.” He hurt Cole. He hurt Greyson. Who knows who else he would hurt if they got close enough? Perhaps that is one reason he kept his distance and didn’t get too close to anyone at camp. Sure he would talk to them but why bother opening up if he was just going to leave them for his own selfish needs? 

“I am someone who doesn’t deserve love. I am someone who never expected himself to make it to the age of thirty, yet here I am and what for? Why am I still alive?” His voice cracked at the confession and before he knew it the rest came tumbling out of him like a river bursting through a dam. “It’s why I spend most nights high or drunk. I wanted to die. I spent so many of my years of my life never expecting it to get this far and what for? So I could be some kind of champion for a guy who never once offered to help me? Fuck that! Why should I help him when he didn’t help me every time I called out for him?  When I needed him the most he was nowhere to find and now that he is missing I have to drop my life and help him!?” 

Ender was all but screaming now as he spoke, his chest rising and falling as the emotions flowed through him. It wasn’t until he turned to look at the man sitting next to him he realized that the eyes were no longer Roger’s ice blue ones but someone else’s. They looked familiar like he had seen them pass by on a street or a party once but can’t place a name to who they belonged to. Though if he had to guess it was a female’s. Yet as he gazed upon them he felt oddly at ease, the rage and pain that had been filling up inside him at the question was gone. Instead it was more sadness as he asked-- “Who am I supposed to be? Because I have no idea anymore...I just know I don’t want to be weak anymore. I don’t want to die anymore and that scares me more than anything.” 

for a long time after you speak, roger stares at you. every time your voice rose, every time you were almost screaming, he didn't flinch away from you or tell you to be quiet. he didn't scream at you to shut up and stop complaining about the life you have. 

no, he only listens.

then, calmly, he begins to speak once more, still staring at you as if he sees into the deepest, darkest parts of you; as if he's shining a light on the places you wish no one to go. 

"it takes great strength to continue fighting, to persevere regardless of circumstance. it takes strength to still fight a fight for someone who never fought for you." from his hand, he produces a bushel of grapes and offers you one. "but maybe you don't do this for him, maybe you're here because you didn't want to die long ago and this was an option to allow you to live." 

he pops a grape in his mouth unceremoniously and peers at you through his lashes. "you are whoever you wish to be, ender. the world is a stage and you are an actor. you can pretend to be whoever you wish or finally be who you ARE."

hearing roger's voice and seeing roger's mouth form the name ENDER hits you like a brick. what emotions does it bring out of you?

“Is it fair for me to be selfish like that?” Ender asked reaching out to accept the grape because fuck he needed something right now. Even if it was just a small nectar filled grape, it was better than being sober for this. “Everyone else seems to actually want to help their birth parent and here I am not caring at all that he is missing. Is that wrong of me? Does that make me weaker than them?” Every time he stepped in front of a creature or person he was expected to fight, he wasn’t frightening for Dionysus but a chance for another day to live. And maybe all along he knew that deep down, that he had come to camp not to die like he thought but a chance to live like this version of his step-father suggested. Those pitch black eyes peered into his soul a bit more as he felt the grape pop in his mouth and released the nectar that he craved. It wasn’t until the slip of _Ender_ came out that he knew for sure this wasn’t his step-father as much as he had spent most of his life longing to hear that name fall from Roger’s lips. A sign that the man finally accepted him for who he was. The drunken demigod knew better than to get his hopes up and realized, finally, that it didn’t matter if Roger accepted him or not. He no longer lived to please or make him happy with his life choices. It wasn’t who he was anymore. It will never be who he is again now that he had a taste of what he could do. The strength his younger self never knew was deep inside him longing to be set free. If he had discovered it fully back then would he have killed the man out of rage and pent up energy? Ender didn’t dwell on the answer, knowing too well what it would be. 

Yes.

“Who are you? You are not him, I know that now. Why bring me here?” Ender asked, reaching for another grape missing his own bunch he kept on him at all times. 

"to have reservations is human. some maybe slipping into immortality quicker than you and that is alright." roger says, his voice a low rumble that still catches over the speakers of the theatre. "everyone's journey is different, that's what makes life beautiful. eventually, you will come to know your father and understand him. but if you shut him out entirely, this life—" he waves to the stage and then toward you. "would be gone entirely."

"i'm not him as you are now who he has tried to make you." roger stands, fingers moving to the bannister to look out over the stage. "i am an echo of your father's power, here to test your resolve. you are strong willed, son of dionysus." he tips his head toward you. "ender." his pitch black eyes almost turn as red as wine before shifting back to the abyssal emptiness of darkness. 

"it is up to you to craft a path for yourself. you picked a theater to bring me here." he pauses, looking at the stage once more. "Why?"

“He is the one who shut me out,” Ender said growling for a second letting that bit of anger slip through. At the mention of this figure being an echo of his power, Ender froze almost and stated at him with wide hazel eyes almost in disbelief. “Fifteen years...I have waited at least fifteen years for any sign of you and now you come to me? Now you want to act like you care? Now you want to show up? When were you when I needed you the most?! I--” He paused and once again pinched the bridge of his nose trying to calm down and focus on things that weren’t going to piss off the one person he had been screaming to the heavens for years over. So instead he focused on trivial things, like how the eyes shifted from dark black to red and part of him wondered if his own would do that one day when he tapped into whatever power he had within him. A sigh escaped him and he opened his own plain hazel eyes and glanced to the stage. “It’s where I wanted to be my whole life. Ever since my mother took me to see my first show when I was younger I dreamed of belonging up there- or any stage really. It’s where I could shed my skin and be someone else. I was--am so tired of being me that the idea of being someone else was ideal to a young child who could do nothing right, it felt like.” There was a pause in his words, the silence filling the theatre as he said, “I think part of me still longs to shed my skin some days and be someone else. It’s freeing to pretend you aren’t yourself even if it is just for a few minutes or hours. Makes you hate yourself a little less.”

"you weren't ready for the truth until now, ender." the bottomless eyes flicker toward you and back to the stage. roger takes a more relaxed stance, more so than you've ever seen him take before. he leans against the bannister and smiles. "but i'm here now and i won't be leaving unless you want me to." 

"you wish to be an actor, a shapeshifter." he turns to face you now, as if he's still looking into the darkest parts of you. "the stage is what you make of it. remember, all the world's a stage."

“I don’t,” Ender confessed looking at the man who was supposed to be an echo of his father’s power. As he said those two words he realized how true it was. “I don’t want you to leave. I wish you didn’t look like _him_ but I don’t want you to leave.” As he spoke he sounded almost like a small child asking his parents not to leave them at a babysitter or a new nanny as they rushed off to go to work. 

His whole life, he went on believing that he never needed a father figure in his life that he was fine with his mother who was a strong independent woman who raised him for a love of theatre and of arts. He never got to participate in father-son activities and he was okay with this. He told himself over and over that he didn’t need to know who his father was, that he didn’t need him to teach him things father’s taught their sons. But now, having a glimpse of him in front of him--

Well he realized how wrong he was and how much he wanted to keep that glimpse near him now. To make up for lost time almost. 

At the mention of being a shapeshifter, an actor, Ender nodded his head and explained, “It’s all I wanted in life. To pretend I wasn’t me for a bit. Roger, the real him, never let me achieve those dreams so I went to school for other things. But this,” his eyes glanced back to the stage with a longing. “This is where my heart lies.” Exhaling he turned back to the figure of his step-father and said, “The world is my stage now. I need to remember that.”

"i won't leave." roger says before he tilts a glance toward you, eyebrow arching up. 

"just as you wish to be a shapeshifter, this is not who i must be either." he begins to drip away, like a waterfall of wine until he is nothing more than a puddle of deep red at your feet. you hear an echo in your mind, a gentle nudge. "go on, maestro, turn me into whoever or whatever you wish me to be and you, too, will have an echo of your father's power."

what do you turn roger into? who or what shape does he take in this new form?

For a second his mind goes to Cole, the boy he was best friend with and the very boy he broke as well. Ender knew it was selfish to think this, to wish the echo of his father’s power to be the boy just so he could see and talk to him again. Sure he was selfish and the past him would have done it in a heartbeat, it just didn’t feel right to have his father’s echo to turn him. His mind then goes to the exact opposite of what he imagined he could make Roger look like. His step-father was tall and silver haired and screamed respect, but in his mind he saw a girl he once talked to at a party. They hit it off immediately, becoming friends and staying beside each other during the whole night, only for her to slip away without a trace and without a way to contact her. He had seen her face a few days later in the news having died from being mugged on her way home. Part of him blamed himself, though he never got her name or her number. He just held onto the bit of sass she threw at him, the way she made him laugh and the way she could boss him around after minutes of meeting her. “Her.” Ender said imagining the girl in his head. Her dark wavy curls, black eyes and petite frame. He didn’t even have a name for her, or if he did he lost it in the dug filled haze that was most of his twenties. He just knew that if she had more time on earth she would have been his other best friend, the only other person to boss him around and make him get his shit together when he needed it most. It was what he needed now. “I chose her.”

"good. now i'll give you my power and we'll kick some ass together." the new form grins and, although she's nameless for now, you think that, eventually, you'll find a suiting name for her. she pushes your shoulder and her dark curls bounce and her dark eyes see straight through you. 

you wake up feel as if you've been pushed from your bed and when your eyes adjust, you realize that you're back in your tent with greyson after a long, treacherous few days in the underworld. but oddly enough, you feel more well rested than you've ever felt before. 

kick some ass together.

it's a thought that races through your mind and you know that you're ready to take this stage by storm, star of the show or not.

[dontcallmecarrie]

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Warnings: Canon-typical mental health issues, unhealthy coping mechanisms [there’s a hopeful ending to this mess, though].

.

Inch by inch.

Inch by ragged inch, Tony Stark clawed himself back to some semblance of normalcy. 

Or, well, tried to, anyway.

Fought hard against the monster, the ragged, yawning void that thrummed under his skin— with nothing but his AI and sheer willpower.

He’d been tempted to turn to the alcohol— but he refused to become Howard, [if only out of spite] so that was right out. 

Inch by inch. 

Tony spent more time in his private labs than he did with people, nowadays. It was probably unhealthy, but then again nobody noticed so the point was probably moot.

Just— buried himself in a safe cocoon of metal and numbers and let loose, trusting JARVIS to watch his back the way very few humans had proven to be capable of doing [the few times he’d tried—never mind]. Finally lowered his guard, and went over the cracks with duct tape and JARVIS’ snark and coffee and gentle amusement at Butterfinger’s antics. It wasn’t healthy. But it was the best he could do.

Inch by inch.

Last time he’d been reforged, it’d been in a nameless cave in Afghanistan. For some reason, though, that time had felt simpler than now, when he was trying to put the shattered pieces of his life back together in the comfort of his own home.

But he did it. He cut himself sometimes, on the more jagged fragments, and it was the single most uphill battle he’d ever fought— but he pulled through. When he finally emerged from his haven, he was closer to an even keel than ever before.

Nobody noticed.

For the longest time, and sometimes Tony didn’t know if he felt proud that he’d managed to hide it so well, or resentful of the fact that some people seemed to think he was just being melodramatic when he’d been drowning— but it didn’t matter in the long run, now, did it? 

.

...Except for when it did, apparently.

The Avengers had been getting to know the newer members of the team, what with the potential for roster changes— and nobody’s quite sure who brings it up. The PTSD thing, that is.

Sam Wilson’s demeanor is very open, very willing to listen. Kicker is, that’s the thing that raises Tony’s defenses; he would’ve been more amenable to talking about some of his experiences in another setting, but Wilson’s ability to turn the conversation into emotions when they’d been sharing a laugh over a drink about the last battle that has him clamming up.

The others noticed, too. Some of them needled him, probably thinking he was like his old man, all ‘Stark men are made of iron’ and ‘mental illness? Bah, you’re just weak’ bullshit Howard liked to spew as he poured out another few fingers of whiskey into his glass. So Tony just shrugged it off.

And he keeps shrugging it off, until Sam waits until the rest of the team’s headed off to do their own thing, and with a knowing yet understanding gaze, asked, “When’s the last time you got help?”

In retrospect, it wasn’t funny. Even if it was hilarious at the time, and Tony hadn’t been able to help but laugh so hard he’d had to put his drink down to avoid making a carbonated mess. 

“You use humor as a coping mechanism, even if the others can’t tell. I can respect that.” Sam continued, and Tony was probably going to run out of air, he was laughing so hard. [And if he was maybe tearing up, so what? No one’d be able to tell if it was because he was laughing or crying.]

“Oh, man.” Tony finally managed, after a few minutes. Sam was kind enough to ignore his quietly wiping his eyes. “Sorry, but you have no idea.”

Then again, maybe he did— that sympathetic smile certainly had Tony leaning that way, anyway.

“But really, when’s the last time you’ve talked to someone about it? Any of it?”

Tony knew it was incredibly unfunny, but he couldn’t help but crack up again anyway at Sam’s face when he finally let someone else in on the joke. “Try ‘sometime before Afghanistan’, and that’s a very rough ballpark. Things only really went to hell a few months back, though.”

“No one?”

“Does JARVIS count?” Tony asked, and fought to keep a straight face at Sam’s look of horror. 

“No offense, JARVIS,” Sam said as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “but no, Tony, your AI doesn’t count. What about the others? Didn’t you mention this Rhodes guy? How about Pepper?”

Tony shrugged. “Rhodey’s got a busy life, I’m not about to burden him with more bullshit than what he already has to deal with. Pepper’s the same way, only she also had her own issues what with the Extremis fiasco a while back, and Happy was hospitalized because of it. Either way, don't worry about it, I’m fine.”

Sam’s cool was slowly being chipped away, now, and Tony cast about for a way to bring the humor back because no one deserved to be stressed out over old news. “Sorry, man. You’re just looking at a rich kid with out-of-this-world problems.”

Apparently, though, Sam wasn’t having it. Especially since his expression steadily grew less and less amused, as he came to a conclusion that Tony could only scratch his head at. “So what I’m hearing is, you never received treatment for your textbook case of PTSD.”

“Oh, is that what it was?” Tony blinked, and Sam threw his hands up with a groan. 

“And here I thought the rest of the team had issues. Okay, you now what? That’s it, next time I’m headed to the VA, you’re invited. Don’t know how that’ll look like, but you are.”

Tony couldn’t help but scoff, at that. “C’mon, those are for the people who actually need the help. A) I’m a civilian who’s closest thing to a combat zone was...well, you know, and B) I’m fine. Besides, I can afford it even if I did need it.”

Sam leveled him an unusually serious look, before burying his face with his hands, letting out a distressed groan. “How has nobody noticed it before?”

Tony shrugged, and started to reach for his drink again. “You’re the one who said it, not me.”

“I’m not qualified, yet— seriously, how? Does everyone just take your sense of humor at face value?”

Tony aimed fingerguns at him with a only slightly bitter smirk. “Got it in one. Besides— you gotta admit, it’s kinda funny. Like that one time I got shrapnel from a missile that literally had my name on it, you cannot beat the irony of that.”

Sam took a deep breath, and his answering smile was only slightly pained as he shook his head once more. “Again, please come with next time. You’d fit right in, I swear— Forrest has your same exact sense of humor, it’d be great.”

Tony paused for a moment, and his smile faded for the first time since Sam had broached the subject. It felt...disrespectful, to even think about comparing his experiences with those of actual veterans, but...if Sam was really insisting on it so much...

“I’ll think about it.” Tony finally said.

It couldn’t be that bad, could it? 

[godyouredull]

Sure You Can Handle It? | All You Have To Do Is Fall In Love AU

Other Parts: 1 Author: Sarah - @godyouredull Pairing: Ben Hardy / OFC Rating: M Word Count: 6.8k POV: Sarah Warnings: series warnings, SMUT Summary: Ben comes over to repay Sarah for a memorable first night together, and despite her best efforts, she breaks her own rule.

Masterlist found here! Series Summary: Best friends and college roommates Ben, Joe, and Gwil, find themselves tangled up with a group of girls who bring out the best (and worst) in them. Series Warnings: drinking, swearing Authors’ Note: Stories can stand alone, but it’s much better when read all together! Not everything is always in the same tense, or same point of view/perspective.

I can’t decide if I’m nervous or not. I’ve had guys come to my place before, right? This isn’t any different. It’s just another guy coming over to have drinks and there is absolutely no need to overthink things. Ben is a complete gentleman and you are not being too easy by inviting him over after only knowing him for 24 hours.

“What are you doing?” Mic’s voice interrupts my inner dialogue. She’s standing at the doorway to my bathroom, looking at me questioningly.

“Oh, I’m uh,” I take a beat trying to make myself sound as casual as possible, “just shaving my legs.” It’s a bit tough to sound casual when I’m sitting in a somewhat awkward position on the floor of my shower wearing a sports bra and shorts, trying my best to remove any trace of hair from my legs.

“I thought you weren’t gonna fuck him tonight?” She smirks.

“I’m not! I’m just shaving because… better safe than sorry, okay? He could still touch my legs at some point tonight.”

“Uh huh.” She takes on a sarcastic tone, shaking her head. “And why are your red lace panties laid out on your bed? I assume because you’re planning to wear them tonight.” Dammit. I was hoping she hadn’t seen that.

“Like I said.. Better safe than sorry.” I try to defend. She just sighs a little too loudly and shakes her head as she walks out of my room. “I have some self control, Mic!” I call after her.

“No one believes that, Sarah!” She calls back. I hear Ella laughing along with her from the living room.

At exactly 7pm there’s a knock on the door. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that he’s punctual but it’s a bit unnerving since I’m late for literally everything. I open the door to see him standing right in front of me, looking hot as hell in a grey t-shirt and jeans, holding a full handle of Fireball.

“I was gonna bring flowers but I felt bad accidentally leaving the other one in the park.” He says as he hands me the bottle.

“Oh my god.” I say between laughs. “This is way better than flowers. Thank you.” I open the door a bit wider to allow him entrance. He wraps his hand around my waist and gives me a peck on the cheek as he walks in.

“You look beautiful.” He says lowly in my ear. Fuck.

“Trying to butter me up, Benjamin?”

“If I’m gonna cover you in something it’s not gonna be butter.” I can’t hide my surprise at his brashness. My jaw almost drops.

“Butter’s not your thing then? We have some other options.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” We’re in the kitchen now so I fake looking around in our pantries before I answer.

“Pancake batter?” I hold up the box and he immediately laughs.

“Alright, you win. I regret starting this bit.” I join in his laughter as I turn around to put the box back where I found it and then start gathering the ingredients for mojitos. It took some convincing but Mic finally agreed to let me use hers as long as I bought the next batch of materials. “So you just happened to have mojito ingredients laying around your apartment?” He asks as I bend down to grab some limes out of our fridge.

“You’re implying I lied and then bought them to lure you here?”

“Women have been known to do less to gain my affection.” He shrugs.

“Wow! You’re especially cocky tonight, aren’t you?”

“I’m still just trying to keep up with you, love.” He smiles sweetly at me as I start to muddle the mint leaves, sugar and lime together. It’s clearly not my best work but hey alcohol is alcohol. Ben notices though. “You’re not doing that right.” He mocks.

“Shush.” I hold my pointer finger up to silence him. “And to answer your question: yes, we did have these ingredients already. My roommate loves mojitos.”

“Which one?” He asks, remembering the handful of facts I told him last night.

“Michaela.”

“She’s got good taste then.” He speaks as he furrows his eyebrows together, still watching me attempt to make an attractive mojito. “Okay, I have to stop you. I’m sorry.” He says as he gets up from one of our barstools and walks around to where I’m standing in the kitchen.

“Seriously?” I ask in disbelief. “You’re critiquing my technique?”

“I’m not critiquing!” He insists as he pushes me out of the way and takes the muddler and glass full of ingredients out of my hands. “Look, I’ll show you.” He puts a few more mint leaves in the glass and continues to muddle them with ease. I watch the muscles in his bicep flex as he presses down hard with perfect technique. He cuts another half of a lime and adds two more wedges to the glass before continuing to muddle and add sugar. He doesn’t even think about what he’s doing. It seems to just come to him as if it’s second nature. It’s so unbelievably hot that I can feel my mouth beginning to dry.

“How are you so skilled at this?”

“I’m a bartender.” He reveals.

“What?!” I can’t hide my shock. “Why didn’t you tell me this last night?”

“It never came up.” He shrugs as he pours rum and carbonated water into the glass before garnishing it with a lime wedge. It’s a work of art, really. It looks like I would pay $12 for it at the Ritz-Carlton. He hands it to me and I take a sip.

“It’s alright.” I shrug as I lie. It’s delicious.

“Mmhm.” He smiles knowingly as he moves to make himself a drink.

“So what? You bartend at one of the frat row bars? Is that how you met Joe?”

“No,” he laughs as he muddles limes in his own glass. “I bartend at the Four Seasons hotel not far from here.” I almost choke on my drink.

“You’re a luxury bartender?”

“Oh god don’t say it like that.” He screws his eyes shut and smiles while shaking his head. He’s embarrassed! How does he go from being so cocky one second to completely flustered the next? I want to ask him to make eight different fancy cocktails just so I can watch him work but somehow that seems weird.

“You make a killing in tips, don’t you?”

“I do alright.” He chuckles. He finishes making his own drink and holds it up for me to clink my glass against his. “Cheers.” He says as we both take sips, me a little bit more than him. I’m suddenly very nervous as my urge to jump him resurfaces. We’re both standing in my kitchen, not too far apart, taking sips from our drinks. I decide to sit on top of our kitchen island countertop to get a better view of him standing across from me.

“I’m gonna like having you around if you keep making drinks like this.” I admit.

“So you are gonna keep me around then?” He asks as he puts his drink down and starts to walk towards me.

“I’m thinking about it.” I almost whisper as he moves to stand between my legs. He puts his hands on my thighs and his eyes flit down to my lips, as if to ask permission. I cup his cheek with my hand that’s not not holding a drink and lean down to connect our lips. It’s just as fierce as it was this morning. His hands move up my thighs and wrap around my waist. I put my drink down and wrap my legs tightly around his body, bringing him as close to me as I possibly can. I bring my hand away from his face and wrap them around his neck as he lifts me off the counter, never breaking the kiss, and places me so my feet touch the ground and I’m standing in front of him.

“Ben.” I practically moan his name against his mouth. He responds by pressing his body against mine, my back hitting the cool countertop, so I can feel how hard he is against my leg. God, he wants this as bad as I do. “Wait, stop.” I put my hands flat against his chest to stop him. He’s still standing inches away from me but our movements have ceased.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, concern in his eyes.

“Nothing. I’m fine. I just--” I search for the right words, not wanting to offend him. I look away from his gaze, knowing my thoughts would give me away.

“Sarah?” He forces my eyes to meet his.

“This is so unlike me.” I move out of his grip and start pacing in the kitchen. “Seriously, Ben, I would usually never get this worked up. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I--” I start my statement, ready to be completely honest about my fear of being too easy and scaring him off before quickly changing my mind. I look at him again from across the kitchen so we’re staring directly in each other’s eyes. Once again I’m completely thrown by how green they are. How is he so gorgeous?

“Sarah, do you want me t--” I know he’s about to say ‘leave’ so I cut him off, walking towards him and immediately connecting our lips again. I don’t hold back, putting my hands in his hair and fisting his blonde curls. He wraps his arms around my waist again, completely enveloping me in his embrace. I push him back a bit so he hits the refrigerator, shoving my body against him as hard as I can, desperate for friction. He copies my roughness and softly bites down on my bottom lip, causing me to moan again. I’m about to lead him towards my bedroom before my subconscious attacks me for the second time tonight. As I start to question the whole situation, he removes his lips from mine and begins kissing my neck and traveling down to nip at my collarbone. It feels so good that it pains me to stop him.

“Ben.” I say his name while placing my hands on his shoulders, pushing back ever so slightly.

“Love, what is on your mind?” He stops his actions and places his hands on either side of my face, forcing me to look at him again.

“We shouldn’t do this!” I exclaim in exasperation. “It’s too soon and I am NOT easy.” He seems kind of surprised by my declaration but he drops his hands and lets me move away from him.

“Believe me, Sarah, I do not think you’re easy.” He chuckles.

“Ben, if we fuck tonight and then you leave in the morning and I never hear from you again, I’m gonna hate myself.” I finally say, sounding flustered as hell. I can’t believe I’m acting like this and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for being so embarrassing. Damn his effect on me. It’s only been 24 hours and I’m already a mess for him.

“That’s not going to happen, darling.”

“Yeah that’s what they all say. And usually I don’t mind but with you.. I’m...” I run my fingers through my hair and look up at him again, expecting to see pure fear in his eyes. It’s not there though. In fact, he almost looks sympathetic.

“Are your roommates home?” He asks after a beat of silence.

“What?”

“Ella and Michaela. Are they home?”

“Um..” I try to process how random the question is. “Y-yeah, they’re in their rooms. Why?”

“Go get them.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

I wanna ask what the hell he’s thinking but I’m still too flustered to argue so I just make my way towards the hallway with Ella and Mic’s rooms and knock on their doors. Ella comes out first, looking half asleep and wearing her pajamas.

“What’s going on?” She asks as Mic opens her door, also looking a bit drowsy.

“Ben wants to talk to you guys?” I say questionly so they realize I’m just as confused as they are.

“He didn’t say why?” Mic asks.

“No, I have no idea what he’s thinking.” We all stand around for a second before I speak again. “So… will you meet him?” They both look at each other and nod before following me back into the kitchen. Ben has moved from where I left him and is now sitting on one of the bar stools, facing us.

“Good evening, ladies.” He says as charmingly as possible. They both chuckle and give him shy smiles in return. I know they’re both thinking about how hot he is even in person and I have never wished for the ability to telepathically communicate more.

“Uh, Ben this is Michaela and Ella.” I point to them as I say their names.

“What’s this about?” Ella speaks first, crossing her arms.

“I just wanted to introduce myself and say that you’re gonna see a lot of me around here because I really like your roommate. I’m a theatre major and I work as a bartender at the Four Seasons so you can come find me and kick my arse if I hurt her.”

I look from Ben to Ella and Mic, who both have the same dumbfounded expression that I’m sure is on my face too. I can’t believe he just said that. It’s such a simple thing, introducing himself to my best friends, but he knew exactly what it would mean and he did it anyway with no hesitation. I flashback to his words from this morning and realize that I, too, am in trouble. I’m gonna fall for this asshole, aren’t I?

“Shit,” Mic finally speaks. “That was smooth.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your night.” He speaks again. “You can go back to your rooms if you want.” They both look at me as if to ask if that’s what I want and I nod. The look in Ella’s eyes tells me exactly what she’s thinking and I smile at them. This morning we were all sitting at that table looking at pictures of that beautiful, blonde british guy and now he’s in our apartment, sitting in the exact same spot.

“They’re gonna fuck.” I hear Mic whisper to Ella as they get closer to their rooms. I close my eyes and shake my head as I turn back to Ben.

“I can’t believe you ju--” I start to say but he cuts me off, standing up to stand directly in front of me again.

“Anything that happens tonight is completely your choice, babe. But I’m not going anywhere.” He promises as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I sigh involuntarily and lean my face into his palm.

“Will you make me another drink?”

“Of course.” He smiles and kisses my forehead before walking back into the kitchen. I follow behind him and take a seat on one of the barstools, watching his skilled hands make two more mojitos for us.

“I don’t suppose you can find a way to add fireball into these?” I ask jokingly.

“You’re ridiculous.” He laughs as he continues to make the mojitos. Once he’s garnished both of them, he walks around the island to place the full glass in my hand. I watch him intently as he takes a sip from his, slowly coming to the realization that I don’t want him to leave tonight. Even if all we did was sit in the kitchen and talk about anything as he continued to make drinks all night, I know I would never get tired of listening to or looking at him.

“Ben?” I say as I put my drink down, watching him take another sip of his.

“Yeah?”

“Put your drink down.” He obeys and places his glass on the counter, turning to face me. I stand up and cup his cheek with my hand, pulling him towards me for the third time tonight. He leans into my kiss, putting his hands on my waist before slowly moving one down to cup my ass. I smile against his mouth and fist his hair, pulling it ever so slightly, causing him to moan. I can feel him beginning to harden against my leg so I press my body tight against his, creating a friction we’ve both wanted since he walked in the door. “My room is the door behind you.”

“And you’re sure?” I don’t answer. Instead I kiss him again and start to push him so he’s walking backwards towards my room.

“Whoa, whoa I worked too hard on those mojitos for them to be forgotten.” He says, surprising me. It puts me at ease that he can keep up his joking manner no matter what.

“Fair enough.” I admit and pick up my glass, tilting it backwards until I’ve downed the entire thing. “Your turn.”

“Damn.” He says, eyes wide. “Eager, are we?”

“You know the answer to that.” I whisper as I stand in front of him again, bringing my hand between us to palm him through his jeans.

“Christ.” He curses and then quickly finishes his drink. He reconnects our lips and I can taste the rum on his tongue as he slips it into my mouth. His hands move to cup my ass again, and before I can even register it, he’s lifted me so my legs are wrapped around his waist.

His biceps are so firm beneath my touch and I have to keep convincing myself that he’s definitely strong enough to carry me to my room. It’s a ridiculous thought to be having but if he drops me, there’s definitely no saving this night. He doesn’t though. He carries me all the way to my room, where thankfully the door is already open, and places me down on my bed, hovering over me. He finally breaks the kiss but just moves downward, leaving quick kisses against my cheek, my neck and my collarbone.

“Leave marks.” I whisper. “Please.” He chuckles. The bastard. I know I’m feeding his ego but I don’t even care.

“Gladly.” He smirks and works his way back up to my neck where he nips and sucks until I’m sure there’s going to be a dark, purple hickey. I arch my back and move to take my shirt off. Once he realizes what I’m trying to do, he grabs the bottom hem and lifts it up over my arms so I’m completely topless in front of him. I’m a bit self conscious but I never wear bras so I definitely wasn’t going to start tonight. He looks down at me for a second before blinking repeatedly, exhaling in slight disbelief.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you all day. Not for one second.” He admits. My breath catches and I want to think of a comeback but I can’t. I don’t know how to say that I’ve been thinking about him all day too. I pull him back down to me so we’re kissing feverishly, one of his hands propping him up while the other is cupping the side of my face. I move my hand down to the bottom of his shirt and try to pull it over his head. He finishes my actions and reaches behind him to grip the back of his shirt in one hand and remove it in a quick, fluid motion. And holy… shit. He’s ripped. I mean absolutely jacked. I can’t believe I thought he was going to drop me earlier.

“You’re staring.” He says, still sitting up while I’m laying down in front of him.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but you’re fucking… hot.” I’m borderline drooling at the sight of him shirtless. I reach out and touch his toned abdominals before sitting up so we’re inches away from each other. “I’m sorry. Is this obnoxious?”

“Usually.” He laughs “But with you touching me it’s…” He stutters and I remove my hand from his body. “No, don’t stop.” He grabs my wrist and places my hand back on his abs. I stroke his skin with my thumb, slowly moving my hand further downward until I reach the button on his jeans.

“Take them off.” He lies down on his back and slides his jeans down his legs so he’s left in nothing but his briefs. They fit him so snug I can see the outline of his hardened dick through them. He radiates sex: laying down on his back, every muscle in his stomach flexed, fully hard in MY bed. How is he in my bed?

“C’mere.” He says and pulls me over to him so that I’m straddling his waist. I’m still wearing my skirt and panties but nothing else so I can feel his cock through the thin fabric, which is already soaked. I begin to grind against him and he groans at the sensation, throwing his head back and screwing his eyes shut. I continue, slowly, because I’m having too much fun teasing him. His fingers grip my thighs with such force I’m almost sure there’ll be bruises in the morning. I hope there are. I don’t ever want to forget the way this felt or the way he looks right now.

“Oh, god.” He sighs. It’s pornographic and I want to hear him again. So I lift myself off him every so slightly and place my hand between us, stroking him over his briefs. “Fuck.” He clenches his jaw and grips my thighs even tighter. I almost cum on the spot. “Wait, stop.” He ceases my actions and flips us over so I’m laying under him again.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t wanna cum yet.” He smiles sheepishly.

“You were gonna cum just now?” I poke fun at him a bit. I’m secretly proud of myself even though I don’t feel like I did much.

“Do you realize how bad I’ve wanted this?” He defends himself. “Since the second I saw you.”

“That’d be sweet if we hadn’t just met 24 hours ago.” I laugh and he joins in.

“Shut up.” He crashes his lips back down onto mine and it’s more forceful this time. I make a mental note to piss him off more often. He takes both of my hands in one of his and pins them above my head, keeping me from touching him. “Don’t move.” He commands as he moves his mouth down the length of my body, leaving soft kisses in his path. I know he’s building up the anticipation to tease me because of the way I had done. It takes everything in me not to buck my hips against him. He slips his fingers into the waistband of my skirt and pulls it down my legs, leaving me in nothing but my red lace panties. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” He whispers against the inside of my thigh.

“The feeling’s mutual.” I admit. That’s good. Sexy stuff, Sarah.

My hands are still rested above my head, not moving, per his request. I already know I’m not gonna be able to keep them there though. He’s gonna have to tie me down if he wants it that way. He moves my panties aside slightly before plunging one finger inside my core. I involuntarily cry out since I’ve been so sensitive all night. Honestly, I’ve been sensitive since he left this morning.

“God, you’re soaked.” He says as he looks up at me from between my thighs. My chest is heaving as he slips in another finger and curls them both. My hips buck up involuntarily to meet his movements.  “Use your words, love. Tell me if it’s too much.”

“Keep going.” I half whisper. I can see him smirk in the darkness of my room. Maybe I will keep boosting his ego if he’s gonna keep this shit up. It feels so damn good. He continues his gentle assault as my mouth hangs open and my eyes roll back.

“How good is it? Tell me how good it feels.” My arms move down to grip my sheets as he rubs his thumb against my clit.

“So fucking good.” He licks his lips before biting down on his bottom lip and I already know what he’s thinking. He removes his fingers from inside me and I whine at the loss of contact, causing him to chuckle. He puts those fingers in his mouth and sucks, popping his lips when he takes them out.

“Look at me.” He says as he wraps his arms around my thighs, holding them in place. I follow his command and stare into those beautiful green eyes I love so much. We keep our eye contact for a second before he began to circle his tongue against my clit.

“Fuck.” I cry out as he continues to swirl his tongue inside me. He begins to hum, making me buck my hips again. The urge to press my thighs together is overwhelming but he doesn’t allow it, still holding them apart. I begin to feel bad about mocking him for cumming too soon because I can already feel myself nearing the edge. I try my hardest to keep looking at him but the pleasure is too much, and I have to throw my head back as I continue to cry out. His mouth is hot and wet, his tongue unbelievably skilled. He removes one of his arms from my thigh and uses the pad of his thumb to rub circles into my clit as his tongue laps between me. He continues to hum as I throb against his tongue and I can feel the fire growing in the pit of my stomach. A tremor runs through me and we both know I’m close.

“That’s it.” He says against me. “Let go. I’ve got you.” His words send me over the edge and my hips stutter into the air as my muscles spasm around him. He laps up my heat before brushing his fingers over my sensitive walls one more time. I’m utterly spent as I’ve never come so hard before. Somehow he knows exactly what to do and where to do it and I’ve never had that before. “You okay?”

“I--” I start a sentence but I still haven’t caught my breath. I inhale heavily as I try to bring myself back down to earth.

“That good, huh?” He bites down on his bottom lip and I chuckle slightly, grabbing a pillow and using it to cover my face.

“Hey, no no.” He moves up the bed to lay down next to me and take the pillow from my grip. I look up at him through my lashes and smile. He’s laying on his side, facing me, with his head in his hand. I pull him down to me and kiss him again, tasting myself on his lips.

“I want you inside me.” I admit.

“Sure you can handle it?”

“You know, one of these days I’m gonna turn this cockiness back on you and you’re gonna be sorry.” He licks his lips again and laughs.

“I can’t wait.”

I press my hand against his chest and push him down so he’s lying on his back, me straddling his waist. His hands are on my thighs rubbing circles against my skin with his thumb. I lean down to kiss him slowly as my hand travels down the length of his body, into his briefs where I wrap my hand around his cock. It’s rock hard and already leaking some pre-cum, which I collect with the pad of my thumb. He groans against my mouth.

“If you do that again I’m not gonna last.” My satisfaction is through the roof as I take my hand out of his briefs and move to take them off, sliding them down his legs.

“Sit up.” I tell him. “If you don’t last, I promise I won’t hold it against you.” I say as I position myself in his lap, holding his cock in my hand and lowering myself onto it. He doesn’t have a chance to respond and he moans so loudly against my shoulder. The feeling of him inside me is euphoric and I almost immediately combust, still sensitive from my first orgasm.

“Christ.” I hear him curse under his breath. He grips me flush against his body as he kisses and bites along my shoulder.

“Kiss me.” I say and he obeys, crashing his lips onto mine as I start to move my body up and down. He thrusts his hips to meet mine each time I come down onto him. My grip on his shoulders is so tight as I try my hardest to steady myself. He hits every spot perfectly, rubbing and soothing every throbbing spot inside me, slowly and deeply. Though part of me was desperate for fast and hard thrusts, going slow like this was somehow better with him. He moves one of his hands from around my waist and brings it between us, rubbing my clit with the pad of his thumb.

“Babe, I’m--” He cut himself off as he grunts into my neck.

“I know.” I whisper in his ear as I pull his hair slightly. It doesn’t dawn on me until now that he never put a condom on but there’s no way I’m asking him to stop. Mic is gonna have a field day with this.

“Shit.” He curses as he releases inside me, my walls clenching around him. My second orgasm of the night quickly follows his and I say his name softly as I ride out my high. He’s still holding me flush against him, as if his whole life depends on it.

“That good, huh?” I repeat his question from earlier. He laughs as he lifts his head and looks at me, cupping my face in both of his hands.

“The best.” He whispers, kissing me again. Our lips move lazily against each other’s for a minute before I finally move out of his embrace and lay down next to him. “You do want me to stay, right?” He asks as he lifts himself up on his elbow again, looking down at me.

“I’d kill you if you left.” I admit. He laughs and pulls me towards him, bringing me to lay my head on his chest as he wraps his arm around my waist.

“Because I make the best mojitos?” He whispers as he kisses the top of my head.

“Among other things.” I smile against him and we fall asleep, both completely exhausted. My heart continues to race as I hope to god he’s still here in the morning.

I wake up the next morning to the sound of kitchen cabinets slamming and find that Ben is still fast asleep next to me, his arm draped around my stomach and his face cuddled in the crook of my neck. His blonde curls are unruly and he’s breathing slowly. He looks so peaceful and lovely that I decide it would be a crime to wake him up. I kiss his forehead before slowly standing up, placing his arm back down on the bed, he stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. How he can sleep through the ruckus Mic is making in the kitchen, I have no idea but I still tip toe around my room looking for something for wear, trying my best to be quiet. On the floor I spot his grey t-shirt and quickly slip it on, along with a clean pair of panties from my drawer. He’s still asleep as I walk out of my room, closing the door quietly before joining my roommates in our kitchen.

“Hey!” I shout-whisper at Michaela, who’s cooking up a storm in the kitchen. “Slam those a little louder, why don’t ya?”

“Oh, dear. Did I wake you?” She asks sarcastically. Ella, who’s sitting at the bar, starts laughing at her fake sentiments. I give her a condescending look before putting a pot of coffee on.

“Nice hickey.” Ella smirks at me. Oh shit. I put my hand on my neck and sure enough, it’s a little sore. Using the microwave as a mirror, I examine the dark purple bruise on my neck. I’m turned on just looking at it.

“Goddamn.” I continue to admire myself. “That’s hot.” I raise my eyebrows at Mic who’s shaking her head while stirring a bowl of pancake batter.

“So, good night then?” She asks.

“Mmhm. You could say that.” I bite down on my bottom lip, bragging a little bit.

“Is he still in there?”

“Yeah, he’s sleeping.”

“Is that his shirt?”

“Yep.”

“Did you use protection?” Ella finally speaks up.

“Uh… well.” I stutter, turning my attention back to the coffee pot.

“SARAH.” She yells accusingly as Mic bursts into laughter.

“Oops.” I shrug, joining in their laughter. At that moment, the door to my bedroom creaks open slightly, revealing a shirtless Ben. All of us turn our heads in his direction.

“Uh… good morning.” He opens the door all the way but stands against the frame a bit awkwardly. I can sense Mic and Ella’s shock at how drop-dead gorgeous he looks shirtless because I’m feeling it myself but them seeing it for the first time is even better.

“Hi.” I say, smiling at him. “Do you want coffee?”

“Uh, sure. But um… you’re wearing my shirt.”

“Oh, right sorry. Do you want it back?” He’s still standing in my doorway so I start to move towards him before he stops me,

“No, no. It looks better on you.”

“Okay…” I start to get the sense that he might not want to walk around the apartment without a shirt on, despite none of us giving a shit. “Well, you can wear one of mine if you want. I have every size in the bottom drawer of my dresser.” He looks a bit relieved at this as he walks back into my room to search for a shirt to wear. I make a mental note to ask him about his reservations later. Though I guess if his friends were ogling at me in his kitchen I guess I would put clothes on too. Actually, maybe I wouldn’t.

“You’re wearing each other’s clothes. That’s cute.” Ella comments. “Although it wouldn’t kill you to put some pants on.”

“Oh come on. You’ve definitely seen me in less.”

“Against our wishes.” Mic chimes in. “Also, uh, you didn’t tell us he was so jacked.” She says under her breath.

“Well, I didn’t know either! I’ve only seen him in t-shirts and hoodie until last night.”

“That’s a nice little surprise.”

“Keep your cool, please. He’s quiet about it.”

“I cannot possibly be expected t--” Mic starts before Ben walks back out of my room and she drops the subject. He’s wearing one of my larger Star Wars t-shirts, which looks a bit ridiculous on him but seeing him in one of my shirts is a nice sight nonetheless.

“Michaela, you’re making breakfast?” He asks as he walks around her towards me. “Good morning.” He speaks lowly to me before kissing me quickly on the cheek. I wrap my arms around his waist and stand in his embrace.

“I try to as often as I can.” She says as she pours more batter on the griddle.

“Wow, pancakes?” He asks as she places the bowl back on the counter next to him. He moves out of my grip and places a finger in the bowl, collecting some of the batter with his finger and then sticking it in his mouth. “Not bad.” He says as he winks at me. My jaw drops open and I laugh, shaking my head.

“Am I missing something?” Ella looks at us, wide-eyed.

“Did you just fucking eat pancake batter?” Mic raises her voice an octave. Neither Ben nor I has a response as he avoids the question altogether.

“You mentioned coffee?” He says to me. Ella and Michaela look at each other questioningly before simultaneously shrugging, deciding to drop it. I reach up to grab another mug for him out of one of our higher cabinets so his shirt rides up on my body, exposing my cheeky panties.

“Here we go.” Ella mumbles into her mug of what I’m assuming is hot cocoa. “Put some fucking pants on!” She laughs. I turn around to see Ben leaning against the counter, blatantly staring at my ass.

“I was enjoying the view actually.”

“See? Someone appreciates what I have to offer. Y’all should take notes.” I say as I point to them accusingly before kissing Ben on the cheek. “Thank you, babe.”

“Whoa.” He takes this moment to admire his handiwork on my neck and down my chest. “Too much?”

“Not enough.” I wink at him. He shakes his head and laughs.

“I’m moving away from you now.” He says as he walks past me to sit in one of the barstools next to Ella. He tugs on the crotch of his jeans a little bit, letting me know that he’s getting hard. “So, what’s on the menu?” He ignores my gaze as he focuses his attention on Michaela.

“Just pancakes, bacon and eggs.”

“My roommate would freak out over this.”

“Joe?” I ask innocently, looking directly at Ella as she looks at Mic.

“Yeah he’s a big fan of everything breakfast but no one in our flat wakes up early enough to cook.” Interesting.

“Do you want cream and sugar?” He nods as I hand him his mug of coffee, changing the subject before Mic gets flustered at the subject of Joe. She places the last batch of pancakes on our individual plates before placing some down in front of Ben and Ella and handing me mine. I hand the cream and sugar to Ben and place my plate down opposite from him, standing next to Mic.

“Ben, I don’t know what you like but don’t feel like you have to eat it all.”

“Oh, no, it looks amazing. Thank you.” I smile at the sight. Ben in the kitchen, eating the breakfast one of my best friends made him, wearing my t-shirt. I’m staring at him again, as I always do.

“Stop it.” He mouths, looking up at me. I blush, turning my attention down to the food on my plate.

Upon finishing our breakfast, we’re all still sitting in the kitchen discussing our plans for the rest of the day. I’m sitting next to him at the bar and his hand is on my thigh, rubbing the skin where he left light bruises last night.

“Oh shit, what time is it?” Ben suddenly asks.

“10:15.” Mic answers.

“I gotta get to class soon.” He says standing up from his chair. “Love, is it okay if I borrow your shower real quick?”

“Of course. Maybe I’ll join you.” I state matter-of-factly. He’s taken aback.

“Uh…” He looks at Mic and Ella apologetically.

“You might as well get used to that. She asks one of us to shower with her at least once a week.” Ella tells him. He looks at Mic for confirmation and she nods.

“It’s true but don’t worry. Neither of us have ever taken her up on it.”

“It’s a JOKE… usually.” I mumble the last part. “Not to you though I really do want to shower with you.” I say to Ben, putting my hand on his arm.

“Okay, come on then.” He sighs, grabbing my hand in his. I give one last look to Ella and Mic as I’m being pulled towards my room. They both make obscene gestures and I have to try my hardest not to laugh thinking about giving them the details later.

Once inside my bathroom, Ben quickly removes his shirt and turns on the water.

“So are we just showering… or?”

“Well I thought I could help you out with this.” I emphasize as I palm him through his jeans. I know he’s been semi-hard for a while but he’s fully hard now.

“A result of all your teasing.” He says as he sucks in a breath. “Can I expect you to always be so brazen in public?”

“You don’t like it?” I tease, still rubbing him.

“I didn’t say that.” He admits before kissing me urgently. He moves to take his jeans and briefs off while I remove his shirt and panties off my body and we step into the shower. I hope he doesn’t mind being late for class.

---taglist---lmk if you want to be added---

@a-night-at-the-0pera @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @lelifesaver @redspecialty @rrrogahtaylahhhh

[treasure-my-aurora]

We’ve got Tonight

• Summary: I’d known Felix since before he was born. My tiny preschool hand would often press flat against his mother’s round belly while I looked up at her with surprised innocent eyes as the baby inside kicked against my hand. Known him as a brother, a best friend and a rock to lean against through my whole life. But now, in just a month, he’d be going away to train with some of the best in the industry, and with time running out, perhaps there is more than just platonic feelings between us… something that would bring up more pain, jealousy and sorrow than we could ever imagine.

♥ Pairing: Bang Chan/Reader/Felix

♦ Chapter: 2/9

♣ Words: 4676

♠ Genre (in this one): Fluff, angst, teasing

It was Saturday evening, sometime around 10 pm and our apartment was full. Alcohol was flooding and for once, everyone in our group of friends was there. Two girls I’d befriended from work had joined on my request as well and both were already chatting up Changbin, Han and Jeongin. As the oldest of the group, all the boys included, I often felt responsible for them all and needless to say, I felt like the most boring adult ever when I clinked my glass with one of the girls to get her attention and nodded towards the smiley boy at the end of the sofa. His non-alcoholic carbonated drink in a steady grip as he listened in on the conversation between his hyungs and the girl closest to him. “Just a small warning” I paused, felt how I slurred slightly and took another sip of whatever it was Chris had mixed together. Grimaced slightly to the way too sweet taste before I continued, “Our youngest friend is only here because he enjoys the crowd” I nodded towards Jeongin and the girl I was talking to glanced at him before she looked back at me with big surprised eyes, ”He might try to convince you that he’s just as drunk as the rest of us but it’s just a big fat lie and he only wants to get laid” “No need to be a party pooper, noona” Jeongin said with a large pout and I only stuck out my tongue before giving him a big smile. Pursed my lips slightly when he rejected the love heart I formed over my head. A stern look on his face while shaking his head in disappointment and for a second I got worried that he was angry, but he couldn’t hold the stoic mask for long and soon enough broke out in a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Anyone wanna play a game?” Chris voice suddenly roared over the music and all of us looked up at him from our scattered places across the room. He stood in the corridor that connected our bedroom with the rest of the apartment and for a split second I got scared that his drunken mind would’ve found it funny to share the box of sex toys we had hidden underneath our bed. “What?” Jisung screamed out from the top of his lungs but only received frightened eyes from my two co-workers, the rest of us were used to it by now. “Spin the bottle” Chris screamed back and revealed the old whisky bottle that he’d hidden behind his back the whole time. I sighed deeply in relief and caught his eyes as he gathered the group into a circle on the floor. “You really thought I was going to do something naughty, don’t you?” He whispered as he sat down, right next to me. Fingers playing with the hem of my high waisted black jeans as he pulled my whole body towards him and I shivered slightly as he placed a sloppy kiss underneath my ear. I looked up, accidentally met Felix eyes across the circle, bottle in a tight grip and frozen momentarily in the motion of bringing the drink to his lips as he watched when my face changed as I sighed from the added pressure of Chan’s teeth grazing my skin and the small nibbles that followed, causing pink splotches of colour to blossom over the side of my neck. The moment only lasted for a few seconds though, before he looked away as if nothing had happened. His Adam’s apple bobbing as he downed the whole drink in one go. Excused himself from the group, even though no one listened, walked past us to the fridge to get something else and Chris asked (shouted) over his shoulder if Felix could be a dear and get him something as well. He doesn’t notice the look he gets in return, no one does because no one would. But I’d known him before he even took his first breath on planet earth and the small twitch in the corner of Felix mouth, the way his eyes rolled ever so slightly- was of clear annoyance and I wondered what my boyfriend now had done that had put the younger in such a bad mood. I wanted to reach out for him when he walked past us again, to try and cheer him up but decided against it as he placed a beer in front of Chris and another one in front of me. Only gave me a small look to confirm when I silently, without using anything else than the body language only the two of us knew, thanked him for bringing me something that I could finally drink. The evening continued and I didn’t know how I ended up in my boyfriend’s lap as two hours passed. Maybe it was from a dare, maybe it was because his hands hadn’t left my hips the whole time. Almost fucking up the game multiple times because the group could never decide if it pointed towards me or him. I was drunk, knew it from the thick cotton ball feeling in my head to my slightly numb fingers and the way my heart thumped hard in my chest. Stuck in that perfect stage when I had just enough to remember my every action the next day but still felt invincible at the moment. I revelled in it- the feeling. Chris body was warm underneath mine and my breath hitched when I felt how he tried to undo my belt buckle for the third time within the hour. I tried to wiggle away but he kept me locked where I was with two secure hands locked around my hips, and thrusted up slightly against my ass instead, just to tease me. I playfully hit his hand and shook my head as he rolled my body onto his half hard cock, the same way he’d been doing for the last fifteen minutes, and gave him another look of disapproval as a breathless gasp escaped my lips against my will, scolded him without using words but he just shrugged and gave me an innocent smile. “Ok, ok, we get it. You guys wanna fuck. It’s literally 12 am and this party is just getting started. Get over yourselves or get it over with” Hyunjin shouted, annoyance and what could be depicted as jealousy in his voice, from across the room and Chris hands were back around my waist as people around us laughed loudly from the shameless words. Chris pouted as his fingers drummed on my jean clad thighs, puppy eyes and all. Even fluttered his lashes a few times and I rolled my eyes to him as I tried to fight off the arousal that already burned between my legs from the thought of his cock pounding me while our friends were waiting for us on the other side of the apartment. “You’re a lucky girl” One of my co-workers shouted the moment I stood up and Chris followed, the dent of his own arousal clear as day because of the tight ripped blues he was wearing and Changbin, Han and Minho shouted more and more vulgar words after us as Chris took my hand, kissed it as he bowed, almost theatrically before he leaned down and surprisingly easy, considering how much we’d been drinking, swooped me off my feet and started to carry me bridal style to our bedroom. I caught Felix eyes and for the first time in my entire life, couldn’t immediately recognize the expression he on his face. Lips parted and eyes hooded as he brought the bottle in his hands to his lips again. Knuckles nearly white from holding onto it too hard and I feared for a moment that it would break and shatter in his hand. Tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip and he raised the bottle to me just before Chris closed the bedroom door, gave me a small wink as a cheeky goodbye with one brow raised, but his lips were pressed together in a way I only recognized as anger. - “I need a hug. A three hour one” I stumbled through Felix’s door and he looked at me with a small smile while putting his hand on my back to make sure that I didn’t stumble over his doormat. I was fresh of work, fatigued and tired. Feet and back hurting and I regretted for the thousand time that I didn’t just put away some money to buy a proper pair of shoes. “Tough day at work?” He asked and I nodded while kicking off my shoes and laid down in his bed. Closed my eyes and winced in pain as my back relaxed against the soft mattress. Felt the bed dip as he sat down next to me while placing a comforting hand on my thigh. The slight pressure as he splayed it over the sensitive area made me shudder slightly. “Do you want me to hold you?” He asked and I nodded again while scooting over slightly. He laid down next to me and I turned around, still with my eyes closed, and nuzzled up next to him. Breathed in deeply, felt how my entire body shook when I inhaled the smell of him and how relaxed I felt after I exhaled again. Heard him snort out a small laugh from my action and knew that he smiled brightly- were so used to it that I could see it against the darkness of my eyelids, as if my eyes were open. He placed his arms around me, hugging me close and I buried my nose against the place he sprayed his cologne, just above the collarbone. Felt him twitch slightly from the ticklish feeling while placing a delicate kiss on the crown of my head. “You smell like coffee” He whispered against me and I hummed back, “I know, I’m sorry” He chuckled and took a deep breath himself, laid his hand flat against my back and pressed us as close as we possible could. Connected from top to bottom with our legs tangled and I felt how my heart skipped a beat. “I just mind the taste, not the smell, and certainly not on you” “Cheeseball” I would’ve stuck my tongue out at him but didn’t want to move away from my place so close to him. We grew silent. Just listened to the sound of shuffling in the rooms around us, to music that played from a boom blaster outside, a car that honked from the road off campus and a tv programme in the common room downstairs. “I can’t help but to be selfish. Laying like this, really make me hesitate on actually going away” Felix voice was soft, or well, as soft as he could muster, and I felt how my body coiled slightly from the words as it twisted and turned inside me. He sounded so full of angst, of sorrow that it hurt me, and I quickly shook my head and reached up to comb my fingers through the hair at the back of his head. Felt how he gasped harshly as the tingly feeling sent ripples down his spine and I took a staggering breath against him while I repeated the action. “You need to go though. There’s-” “No discussion… I know, noona. I just-” “Want to stay as well” He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. I felt how his pulse picked up as his heart thumped hard against me. “I’d be lying if I said that I’ll be ok. That I won’t cry. That I won’t miss you. That I won’t miss moments like this… But to think so is selfish. The logical part of my brain knows that you will return to me. That you will come back so, so much stronger. With experience that will be vital to your studies, and for you to be able to do what you want in life” He was silent. Just stroked down my hair as he listened, and I was pretty sure that his eyes were closed as well. Just enjoyed this quiet moment of peace and serenity between us, “You know. It’s been some time since I was that bigger sister that always had your back. Since you were the one who looked up to me” “I still look up to you, noona. You’re kind. Well spoken. Beautiful. Put together” “Put together?” I chuckled a little, tried to ignore the voice that happily cackled like a maniac in my mind when he called me ‘beautiful’ and he returned the humour in his slightly exaggerated words, “Not put together then, no one really is. But I mean… strong… you know? You’ve always been. Ever since we moved away from our parents. You took care of me, and my teenage shenanigans every day. Made sure that I did my homework, made sure that the bills were paid on time, made sure that I had dinner in me before going to bed and breakfast before going to school. Even after I moved out and you moved in with Chris, you never faltered. You still do those little things. You have a job that you enjoy and people that love you” “That’s just being an adult, though” I smiled at him. Appreciative of the sweet words but protesting against them anyway, “There’s not many people who can say that they adult good though. You’re a good role model” I hummed a response. Not really knowing how to answer. - It was intoxicating. In the sweetest way possible. The weight of his body against my own as he leaned back against my chest. He’d come crawling up against me like a cat who craved warmth after finishing his studies. Slightly slumped over in front of me as I watched the small TV, propped up on an unstable table at the other end of the bed. Complained with a big pout that he was cold and needed me, and who was I to reject him? Who was I to say anything when he gave me a smile that made butterflies flutter in my stomach before comfortably laying down in my arms with his head resting against my boobs, using them as a pillow. My left arm thrown over his hard chest while the other automatically removed the cap he wore to reveal those bouncy lilac locks of his. I know that the “right thing”- what society told us every time we displayed physical affection and people realized we weren’t a couple, would be to protest when he laid down in that position. But we’d grown up like this, basically joined at the hip. So accustomed to each other that it was as if our bodies had grown up to fit against each other like puzzle pieces. To always lay so, so close to each other that the situation didn’t feel weird at all. My fingers combed through his hair, the softness of it rippled like water between my fingers and I couldn’t help but place a small kiss on the crown of his head when he looked up to meet my eyes, watched me upside down for a few seconds before he closed his eyes again as I moved some hair that had fallen onto his forehead, my fingertips brushing against the barely noticeable thought wrinkles there and I had to remind myself to breathe when he gave me another soft smile. I didn’t know what was on the TV anymore, didn’t care much either as he aimed his focus back to the screen, a breathy hum of satisfied content erupt from his throat when I scraped my nails softly against his scalp. “Stay the night?” He asked with a voice that didn’t think I would, and I frowned. Thought about Chris and felt a tinge of guilt in my heart when I wondered if he sat up and waited for me, if he went to bed on time like he’d promised or if he, like he usually did when I wasn’t home, spent the night out with friends. “Sure” I said, thinking that my apartment would most likely be cold and empty if I went home and Felix looked back at me again, that bright smile that I loved so much on his lips as he hugged around my left arm tightly and even though the act; with his smile, the adoration he displayed, the way he pressed closer to me, nuzzling his back harder onto my frame to get even closer- was part of a cute behaviour that made me softly smile, the muscles on his stomach clenched and my breath almost hitched as my fingertips brushed against the hard abs through the thin white tee he wore. He didn’t seem to notice though, or at least that’s what I thought at first but knew that I was busted the second he met my eyes. “Do you wanna see?” He asked with an unusual mixture of pride and insecurity and I guess the subconscious part of me, the one that has had way too many thoughts about him these last few days, must’ve nodded because he stood up, met my eyes and I sat up straighter as he hooked his fingers around the lining of his shirt and raised it high enough to show off what I’d felt but still low enough to keep the feeling of modesty between us. My mouth fell open. I didn’t realize it at first but the smile on Felix face told me so as he looked away, pink dusting his cheeks and I had to remind myself to breathe again. “You look…” I started but didn’t had to finish, as per usual. “Thank you. It’s nice to see that months of training finally pays off” He continued and looked down on himself. My fingers twitched in my lap and I swallowed hard, hoping that he hadn’t noticed, but he looked back at me at the same second and while one hand held up his shirt, the other reached out for me, “Come on, you can touch” “You make it seem like I’ve never seen abs before” I chuckled but still accepted the hand that took mine before he pressed it against the hardness on his stomach. I bit down on my tongue as my fingertips brushed back and forth, and he grinned from ear to ear when I still let out a small gasp of surprise, “I’m not saying that you’ve never seen abs. But it’s been some time, eh?” I met his eyes after he spoke. Embarrassed that he could read me like an open book. He let go of my hand, probably thinking that I’d let him go too, but the cogwheels in my mind worked fast, spiralled into a plan of mischief and I kept my hand where it was. Splayed it open against his stomach before it was joined by my other and I placed them around his hips instead, pulled on his whole body and he was forced to take a step forward towards me. I pushed aside my morals, my emotions and gave him a sweet smile from my place on the low sofa, thumbs rubbing down his hip bones and he seemed to realize the compromising position I was in as well. If he’d take another small step, I’d be close enough to press my lips against the exposed skin he was still showing. He could feel traces of my warm breath against him and the tips of my pinkies slip into the lining of his trainers. Even more noticeable, and I tilted my head with a small pout on my lips when his mouth fell open and a harsh gasp escaped his throat when I leaned forward while glancing down at his crotch- I could easily slide the rest of my hands into his pants and let him slip into my mouth without moving another centimetre. His cock twitched in his pants as he thought the same thing. Gulping slightly as his cheeks flushed and I met his eyes again as I smiled happily while pushing him backwards to put some space between us again. “I’m not saying that you’ve never had sex. But it’s been some time, eh?” I imitated him and he rolled his eyes before cursing loudly, pulled down his shirt low to cover himself. “Noona. You scared me for a second” He complained and slumped down next to me while grabbing a pillow to press against his crotch in the process and I chuckled at him. “Why?” I asked and he flushed even redder. Refused to answer the question. - Another stressful week had passed, and I felt bad for Chris when I once again rejected his suggestion to go to the cinema and watch a movie as soon as he had finished his essay. He was probably home by now, reading the note I’d written to him about where I was, that he should eat while the food I cooked for him was still warm and promised that I’ll be home early enough for us to watch a movie at home instead before it got too late. Felix hand was warm in mine as we laid on a double layered blanket on the hood of my car. Parked in the middle of a parking lot to the biggest shopping centre in our part of town. Dressed for the cold weather outside. The sky was clear, temperature a bit chilly but still calm, without any wind. He pointed out the stars for me, like he’d done so many times before and I was unsure if he understood that I only pretended that I didn’t know them all already or if he thought that it was one thing that I simply just couldn’t remember. He didn’t seem to mind repeating them though and I smiled softly when he tested my knowledge. Harshly clenched my jaw from the laugh that bubbled from his chest as I (purposely) told him the wrong answer and felt how my heart ached, because every time he laughed like that, with twinkling eyes into two thin crescents and pearly whites shining, I was reminded that he would be going away. “I’m going to miss you” I said just as he had questioned me again, turning my head so I could meet his eyes. “Wrong! It’s actually Cassiopeia” He said with a fully serious face but the mask fell quickly when my mouth fell open from the disrespect he just showed me, “I’ll miss you too, noona” He quickly added and I huffed slightly as I looked up to the stars again. “I bet I’m going to miss you more though” I said and felt my cheeks heat up from the sudden confession, “It’s not a competition, noona” Felix said softly, and I chuckled under my breath, but it sounded forced, painful, “You’re going to be busy with a full schedule all day and I’m going to wonder if you still want to be my friend when you get back or if you’ve found some cool girl that can mirror the dance moves you do. Someone that will be your new best friend because you’ll share more interests with her” I looked away, chewed on my inner cheek as the words spilled from my lips. Leaving out the rest of the sentence that I wanted to say. That I was worried he was finally going to fall in love with someone his own age, someone that would be the reason why he’d move away from me permanently. “You’re joking, right?” Felix asked with a voice that echoed the disbelief of the question. We were close, shoulder to shoulder and for a minute I could feel him breathing hard next to me, like the subject bothered him more than he wanted to admit, “Even if I befriended some “cool girl” there will never be someone like you, noona” He squeezed my hand and I squeezed back on pure reflex, hiding a small smile underneath my scarf “I’m more scared that Chris will put his thoughts into action and kidnap you to an undisclosed location so that he can finally have you for himself” He chuckled to himself and combed back his hair before he placed his arm behind his head to lay more comfortably, looking about as embarrassed as I felt myself when we opened up to each other, “He has always been jealous of me, you know. We still fight about it, five years later. I think we’ll always fight about... it” He grew silent and I swallowed hard, feeling how he wanted to say ‘you’ but switched the word to ‘it’ in the last second, changing the whole sentence by doing so. I didn’t know how to answer. Mostly since I’d been thinking about them, the same thoughts, as well, scared that even after this long, the bond that I shared with Felix had never wavered. Had never been affected, like I thought it would when I got together with Chris. Felix cleared his throat, a bit uncomfortable as the mood between us seemed to ripple a little. I wondered if he felt like I did at that moment. Like all the things that had just simmered in our bodies for years started to boil up, scorching us as the amount of time before his departure shortened. It was uncomfortable and I didn’t know what to do or what to say to make myself feel better. To make it feel like I didn’t betray the trust Chris had towards me, even though the most intimate thing me and Felix had ever done was the thing we were doing at the moment- just holding hands, cuddling as we watched a movie or huddling as close together as we could when the only comfort we could find was within one another, because there was no beginning where he also ended, only each other and vice versa. There had been moments when we’d teased each other, like that time a few days ago when I accidentally (on purpose) made him hard after touching his abs… but the situation has always been playful, like we’d just been joking around. “I uh… have tea, if you’d like” I steered away from the subject of him leaving, of Chris potentially taking me away and the feelings I still felt stirring in my belly and he nodded happily as we sat up and he turned towards me as I opened my bag to grab the thermos before I poured him a mug of the hot beverage. He switched hand with mine after a while, thoughtful since that hand had been heated up from the tea and I gave him a small smile before our eyes wandered back against the sky. He was truly the most gorgeous human I’d ever seen, and I couldn’t help but watch him as he continued to watch the sky. Dressed in trainers as usual, with a chunky turtleneck sweater and a thick jacket, all black from numerous brands, looking effortlessly well dressed, in a way I’d never succeeded. Shoulders raised and chin hidden in the extra fabric around his neck to protect himself from the chilly air. Soft purple hair sticking out from underneath a beanie and those freckles of his splattered over the bridge of his nose, cheeks and eyelids like the stars in the sky. Lips pouting slightly as he counted the gleaming constellations above and I counted the freckles on his face, even though I knew the exact amount of them already. Cursed myself as I leaned forward and swiped away a crumb of chip that had gotten stuck in the corner of his lips from when we ate snacks while watching the sun go down earlier. He whispered a small, “Thank you” and I pretended that I wasn’t curious if his lips tasted like the salty tanginess of the chip he’d eaten.

[lavrapalmers]

various storms and saints / chapter 2

summary: allie pressman knows it’s a betrayal to have a crush on harry bingham, but she can’t help it

word count: 6.3k 

read on ao3 here

all work and no play makes allie a dull girl.

it’s been ten days, a little over a week, and she’s already restless. everyone is scared, there seems to be no light at the end of the tunnel and that becomes more apparent every day. yet they all handle it differently, some go to the church to pray, some are on the field praying to some other god. most party, taking advantage of the lack of parents. they can fuck without worrying about sneaking around, break into their parents liquor cabinet with no consequences, smoke in broad daylight.

cassandra shakes her head when she sees this, like a mother looking down at disappointment at her child who is now too grown to boss around. there is nothing she can do but sit and watch, and leave when it gets to be too much. she thinks they should start working, start figuring things out, gather and work together.

allie gets it, she sees the appeal. it’s numbing, it’s distracting, it’s what too many of them need. never prepared for the real world, never prepared to be alone, they don’t know what to do without the guides set for them so long ago. they’re too proud to admit they’re scared, so they show their fear in a bottle of hennessy and a blunt, and apart of her is jealous of them.

she doesn’t smoke, drugs are a big no for her, but she doesn’t mind a drink. the liberation of getting drunk, forgetting the world for awhile, the only pain you know is when you throw it all up. sometimes she’d prefer that pain, revel in that pain, it’s more bearable than the life she’s currently living.

she wishes it were that simple, that she could drink her life away with the rest, laugh it off and not worry so much. but that’s not who she is, rather that’s not who her friends are. they want to talk it all through, spend every second working. you do research, and you clean, and you count food. others keep busy with fun, they keep busy with work.

she understands why, it’s necessary, but she’s growing antsy. she feels cornered in a cage, trapped in this one dimensional version of who she is supposed to be. she wants to be more, she wants to be work and fun, she wants to be more than a carbon copy of her sister and what her friends expect of her.

maybe that’s why she leaves early, quitting her job halfway through the day. she did the minimum expected of her, hours still ahead to do more, but she stopped. she can’t waste her life away counting food and worrying about their future, which now doesn’t seem so bright.

she walks in the middle of the road, a threat to the gods that if what she’s doing is wrong they’ll strike her down, have a car run through and hit her. she walks on that yellow line separating the street, refusing to be just on one side. she wants to walk the line, she wants to have a foot in both worlds, refusing to let them tell her who she is supposed to be.

and like some sick joke, all roads lead to harry bingham.

he stands there like a god amongst men, like everything that is happening has no affect on him. he stands there like he’s running the game and they just don’t know it yet.

maybe this was the gods message instead, a sign to follow her instincts. she deserves some fun, and who represents fun more than harry bingham?

“you planning a trip?” she asks, admiring the way he leaned on his car as the gas flowed into it.

he turned around and it almost took her breath away, and she wondered if this was the first time he’s ever really looked at her. just her, not her behind cassandra’s shoulder, but her alone and as her own person.

she can feel how uncomfortable he is, taking a minute to process that she’s talking to him, and without a biting word. he looks like he’s trying to figure out what to say, if he should play nice or use her as a vessel to get his anger at cassandra out.

he seems conflicted, almost as much as she is.

“a weekend jaunt to the coast.” so he decides to play nice, but she can tell he doesn’t know why. he gives her a thin lipped smile, turning around so she can only see the outline of his face, no longer looking at her, as if she isn’t worthy to get the full view. as if he wants it to end, for her to go away. 

“it’s a nice town but it can get old pretty fast.” she continues to walk as she talks, not stopping for him, trying to show he isn’t worthy of her attention either.

he hums in agreement, and she thinks that’s it. that’s all she’s gonna get from him, because one brief conversation can’t erase years of rivalry that she’s been a back seat driver to through him and her sister. it’s better than nothing, and she savors even that, their little secret.

“we’re playing fugitive tonight.” he adds, not fully leaving her in the dust as to why he was there. this time it’s her turn to hum, a small indication she heard, as she walks away expecting nothing more. “you should come play with us.”

that stops her dead in her tracks, waiting for someone to pinch her and wake her up from this weird dream. did he really just invite her? she turns around, staring at him and still trying to find the words to say. he continues on. it’ll be big, and there’s a party after. it’s a silent invitation to that too. she wonders if he’s doing this out of obligation, or to piss cassandra off.

but she has a feeling he isn’t, she has a feeling he’s genuine about it.

“you asking me?” she has to make sure, because harry bingham doesn’t ask allie pressman to do these kind of things. 

it is a new world, stranger things have happened.

“you can be my partner, if you want.” he offers, and she wants to wipe that smug look off his face. it does too much to her, the charming way he asks, as if he knows she’s been waiting for this. “i need a look out.”

she wants to say yes, but she isn’t an idiot. she knows why he’s asking her, she knows what’s really on his mind.

she wants to pretend this is some type of dream, where he asks her because he really wants her, because her feelings are returned and he actually sees her. sees her as more than cassandras sister, more than a rebound.

“she’s in the supermarket...with will.” she’s all honesty, slightly testing him, see what he says. see if he fights for her, if she’s worth it.

“who?” he asks, and she can’t tell if he genuinely doesn’t know or if he’s in denial, trying not to acknowledge it.

“the person you asked first.”

just from the look in his eyes she knows he won’t deny it, and she even feels a little bad for him. harry and kelly had been together for three years, they were the schools power couple.

that was something she appreciated about harry, something that made her like him. he seemed like a player, but he wasn’t. he was loyal, in a long term relationship, always affectionate. he seemed good, good to kelly, like he would be good for her.

part of her wishes it had worked out for them, because she can see in that dark abyss of his eyes the pain he’s trying to swallow and hide. that’s how much she likes him, that he just wants him to be happy, even with another girl.

“i don’t care.” is all he can say, and she knows he cares but she won’t push. she knows what that’s like, pretending to be unbothered, pretending everything is fine. she lives in that realm, but it seems she doesn’t live there alone. “we’re in the same boat, why not the same car?”

she doesn’t know what he means by that, other than that he’s asking her again. she wants to get into his mind, understand what he is really asking for, why he’s pushing so gently for it to be her. but his eyes are bright, and he’s got a sly smile on his face, no more heartbreak reflecting in him. and he’s looking at her, looking right in her eyes, and her lips quirk up into a smile because this is the most they’ve ever had together. the most they’ve talked, the most they’ve stared, and she knows this energy she’s feeling can’t fully be one sided because it’s like he’s pulling her forward, begging her to come closer and climb in his car and let him show her what his life has to offer.

but her mind always drifts back to cassandra, to what they mean to each other, and to what harry means to her. she can’t forget all of that, she can’t give into him the first time he even talks to her. so she denies him for cassandra, but also for herself. to play hard to get, leave him wanting more, see how serious he is.

“you can’t be an asshole to my sister and then nice to me. it doesn’t work that way.” even as she says this she’s smiling at him, she can’t help it, he brings it out of her. he looks too much like everything she wants and can’t have, the treat parents deny their children when they’ve been bad, the movie star you fall in love with after one movie. he’s too good and too bad, filling up her senses, and she gets why he’s so popular. even without his personality, even without his charm, there’s some part of him that lingers in your mind even after he’s gone. he’s someone you can’t ignore, he’s someone who refuses to be ignored. 

but right now she has the upper hand, or at least she thinks she does, as she walks away from him leaving the answer to his offer up in the air. she will not fall at his feet, she will not be what he wants her to be. she is stronger than his warm gaze and her infatuation for him, she is stronger than anyone knows.

he calls something out one last time as she walks away, almost taunting her. “tell her i said she can come, too.”

this makes her laugh, and makes her heart skip a beat. she knows he means it as some type of joke, but she also knows that’s his way of saying he wants her there, even if it means bringing his nemesis.

when she responds she doesn’t turn around, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing the smile on her face at his words, and not giving herself the satisfaction of seeing his reaction. “you say too many things you don’t mean.” the statement rings true, like a prophecy, neither of them knowing how true or severe it is. right now they are still children, they think the world has crumbled but it hasn’t, not yet, but it will soon.

-

allie is starting to realize her sister isn’t perfect, not like she thought. if anything, she’s more like harry than she think she’d like to admit. maybe that’s why they fight so much, they’re too similar, two sides of the same coin, heads and tails. they look at each other like some dark reflection of what they could be in another life, a version they loathe, and hate themselves more for that than they hate the other.

she realizes this when she’s sitting in bed, a front row seat to the cassandra and gordie show. the way his hand trembles over her breast, listening to her heart that doesn’t beat for him. he’s giving up so much just for her, and cassandra looks completely disinterested as he does it.

it’s finally allie’s turn to give her that disappointed look, to take the high moral ground.

“you totally manipulate him.” she is blunt as she says it, not wanting to beat around the bush, wanting her sister to see clearly what it is she’s accusing her of. 

her sister denies it but with no real fervor, nothing to truly back up her claim. she knows allie is right, but cassandra won’t admit it. she can’t admit that she’s doing something selfish and bad, because if she does then who is she to judge others? won’t that make everything she says about harry hypocritical.

she’s starting to see the truth in these people she’s held so close to her heart. she has a problem, she’s always romanticizing people. puts them in their character type and sticks to that, is blinded to any flaws or any changes to the story in her head. they all have their roles initially, who they would be in the movies of their life. heroine. villain. sidekick.

none of that feels true anymore, and it’s too much for her mind. ten days of thinking and working, of tirelessly trying to figure out what is going on and thinking too much about who these people she is living with are.

she wishes people were more honest, that they would just tell the truth and stop beating around the bush. it feels like everyone gains some weird pleasure in toying with others emotions, knowing they have a grip on someones heart without giving it in return. no one communicates, no one talks, no one says what they want.

it’d all be so much simpler if they were honest, but even just thinking that makes her a hypocrite too.

she is silent because she knows allie is right, and they sit there with their thoughts gone wild and their world shifting around them and trying to adjust.

cassandra leaves when gordie comes calling, and allie knows what that boy is going through and a part of her hates her sister for putting him through that.

she knows because she is going through that right now.

for the first time in ten days she’s home alone. she isn’t used to silence anymore, a part of her can still hear cassandra and becca talking in another room, will laughing at a joke sam made. now she walks through her house alone, empty, silent.

it leaves her alone with her mind, with her thoughts, and she thinks if she stays here another second she’s gonna go mad.

so she does what she has to do, she leaves, and there’s only one place to go.

-

she never thought she’d see harry bingham so excited to see her.

she stand on the side like a angel in hell, asking for a tour, hands in her pockets as she awaits satan himself to lead her down the river acheron.

he almost runs to her, dropping everything for her, and she bites her lip to stop a smile from growing because now it’s him who is wanting. she finally has the power, tugging him along and dragging him to her, begging him to question why she’s there.

“you showed up.” he points at her, letting too much excitement slip out, breaking that classic harry cool he always tries to exude. 

they move together so naturally, almost walking into each other, almost close enough to stop. they’re like magnets, forced together, but she forces herself to stop. it feels like magnets too, when they aren’t met to match. that hard push refusing to touch, something between them stopping from ever really touching, from being together like they should be.

she looks away, trying to be coy as she hides her blushing cheeks. she may have showed up but the rest is up to him, he’s got to fight for her, prove himself worthy past the image in her head she has of him. “well who said i was playing, i could just be here to watch.”

“oh yeah, naturally.” he teases, going along with her, and she hates it so goddamn much. she hates how natural it is between them, like all her hypothesis were right about them. she hoped it would be bad, awkward, he’d make her hate him and she can go on with her life not having to worry about this idiotic crush.

she finally looks at him, her eyes gleaming and a small smile peaking out, letting herself finally break down one wall and satiate a tiny part of her crush.

she doesn’t expect the solemn look on his face, how serious it falls, his dark eyes holding something deeper to them. he asks her “why’d you change your mind?” and she has a feeling there’s something more to that, and she has a feeling it just might break her heart.

his eyes haven’t moved from her, they’re glued on her, and she almost shivers at that. she’s glad her body is covered, that he can’t see the goosebumps on her arms and legs, and she doesn’t let him look back in her eyes because she knows they’ll say too much that she isn’t ready for him to know.

“i just needed a distraction.” she doesn’t lie, just doesn’t tell the full truth, and she wants to get a move on because if they stand there staring at each other she just might burst because it’s too much for her. “and you have a fast car.”

she smiles back at him, telling him not to be so serious, she came to him for fun and he better not disappoint. he better not make her think like the rest, make her worry.

she gets in his car and feels bad, devious, wicked, and she doesn’t mind. it’s in the best way, makes her blood flow faster and her heart beat harder, being in harry binghams car makes her feel like another person. she wonders what cassandra would think, and for the first time she doesn’t care, let her think what she wants, allie is weaseling her way out of her grip and is in a fast car with the hottest boy in town. who could blame her for that?

and he shows off, trying to impress her, revving the engine a few times before they go, faster than she’s ever gone in a car before. he’s the perfect distraction, and he hasn’t disappointed her yet.

they move so fast she can’t think, her mind focused on the game and the boy next to her, sneaking peaks at his side profile and wanting to trace it with her hand. run her fingers through his hair and trace his nose, land on his lips and wait for him to kiss them. then kiss her. she sees it in slow motion, like some goddamn bad 80s rom com, where he turns to her with the moonlight shining on her face and sees her for the first time, and all he can do is kiss her to tell her how he feels.

but he keeps his eyes on the road, swerving to other streets as he follows her instructions, and they work so well together the smile can’t be wiped off her face.

the adrenaline pumps through her veins, it’s blinding, erasing the rest of the world from everything but this game. she’s too into it, too desperate for the distraction it brings, running in the street for that sweet release of her adrenaline build up and not even seeing the trouble coming her way. 

the same way she does’t see the worry in his eyes, or hear him try to stop her, or feel the way his heart stops while hers can’t stop beating.

she feels the impact then hears him screaming her name, calling to her like some godsend and bringing her out from the daze of the world around her. he grounds her, wakes her up again, and he’s gentle with her. his hands barely grazing her, gliding over her hip and it’s like some goddamn dream. she can even hear him whispering “i’m sorry, i’m sorry” and the image in her head shifts but in an even better way. 

she turns around laughing, “my heart is beating so fast.” and he’ll never know what she really means. she’s laughing at herself because how fast her heart is beating, because she knows she signed her name in the book of the beast and there is no going back. she laughs because her heart is beating because of his hands on her and his gentle whisper, and because she knows with every second she spends with him here she falls for him more and more and that just means it’s going to hurt even more when he breaks her heart.

she runs off, away from him, away from that same disappointed glare cassandra has in her eyes when she does something reckless. she doesn’t want to see her sister in his eyes, she wants to play his game instead.

-

once the game ends the real one begins, the true test, the after party.

she expects him to go his separate way, he is the host and that means he has a lot to do. set everything up, entertain people, make sure they’re having fun.

yet he doesn’t leave her side, leading her around his house with his hand on the small of her back and his eyes always trying to sneak a peek into her own. it’s silent looks met with silent smiles, and she thinks she finally understands what it is like to be kelly on harry’s arm.

he leads her to the pool and sets up a little spot just for them, not going in because she didn’t have her swimsuit. he even offered to take her back to her house to get one if she wanted, but she refused. she wanted to keep this night a good memory, something just for herself, going home for even a second would put a damper on that mood. her sister asking questions, her friends getting involved, a whole mass of people with that stare as she gets into harry’s car.

she’s fine sitting on the side of the pool watching everyone else have fun, especially with harry sitting right beside her.

“i’m surprised you came tonight, and that you’re here right now.” he tells her after they take a shot, drawing her attention from the couples in the pool back to him.

“why?” she asks, though she already knows the answer.

he shrugs, looking around at the crowd surrounding them before his eyes fall back to her, and she hates how goddamn handsome he is. “you’re cassandras sister, and her best friend, and she hates me. guess i thought you did too.”

she shakes her head, and after an entire day with him she’s finally gained the courage to keep her eyes glued to his. “we’re not the same person.”

“i know that.” he defends himself, but they both know it isn’t true.

she tilts her head, eyes stuck on his, both of theirs saying so much. “no, you don’t.”

“you never seemed to like me very much.” he tries, but she knows the truth.

“cassandra always painted you out to be the bad guy, and i guess i just kind of followed her lead. now i realized i don’t really know you, and i think i should form my own opinion on who you are.” part of it is honest, but she hides the fact that he is so wrong. she’s always liked him, too much for what’s good for her, too much for what’s right.

“and do you think that?” he asks, leaving her lost.

“think what?”

“that i’m the bad guy.”

she doesn’t respond right away, searching his dark eyes for an answer, thinking they’ll tell her all she needs to know. yet his eyes are asking the same thing, searching for the answer cuz she doesn’t even think he’s sure who he is in this role of his life. and for once she thinks she really sees harry, sees past what he wants everyone to see. the picture perfect popular boy, the flawless rich kid, the leading man in the movie of their lives. he isn’t all those things, he’s just a boy the same way she’s just a girl, looking for all the answers neither can give the other.

“i’m still trying to figure it out.” is the best she can get out, because as much as she wants to reassure him she can’t. one day doesn’t mean anything in her judgement of his character, though a part of her is hoping and praying he isn’t the bad guy.

“i knew you two aren’t the same person. i know that.” he changes the subject, insisting his innocence, trying to prove he isn’t the bad guy after all. “you two aren’t anything alike you are...peculiar...and intense.”

she doesn’t know how to take that, it’s not what she’d expected to hear and she doesn’t know what it means. she’s never heard those two words in a positive connotation, as a compliment, but the way he says it and the lingering look in his eyes tells her he means no harm. he means it in a good way.

neither of their eyes leave each other, and she thinks now for the first time he’s really seeing her too. like he finally knows who allie pressman is as her own person, and the way he looks at her now makes her want to run away and hide. despite all her longing she never prepared herself for this, she never thought it would happen. “thanks.” is all she can muster out, her eyes saying more than her words can.

her eyes flitter down to his lips and that’s all he needs to make his move, leaning in slowly till there was almost no space between them, giving her a moment to move away if need be. she stayed still, letting his lips press against hers for a second, and it’s so not what she expects.

she thinks harry bingham is an all in guy, go big or go home, but he kisses like it’s his first time and he’s nervous. like he’s scared she’ll hurt his feelings, like a child kissing his crush. he kisses her the way she’d kiss him, and she’s wanted this for so long that it hurts to remember that even when he kisses her like this it means so little to him.

kelly just broke up with him, he’s hurting and looking for a distraction for his pain. he’s looking for a rebound, and she fell perfectly into his lap.

she backs away slightly, enough for him to get the hint, and she’s searching his face as if to try and read his mind. she’s just now realizing he’s so emotive, shows everything he feels on his face making it so easy to read him. she can see it all, every thought floating in his mind. the confusion, the rejection, and lastly the hurt. he looks shy and embarrassed, so unlike the unbothered harry he always tries to portray. it just makes her like him more, it just makes her want to lean in and kiss him and tell him everything is fine, that she won’t hurt him like kelly did, that she is ready to give her heart to him.

but she’s smarter than that, and she has questions she wants the answers to too.

“what was that?” she asks and finally looks away from him, unable to hide her sly smile, unable to hide her blushing cheeks.

he laughs a nervous little laugh, and he’s so much more sweet than she thought and she wondered what cassandra would think if she saw this side of him. would she still curse his name, slander him, detest him? or would she be able to understand why allie liked him so much, why he made her so weak?

“i don’t know.” it comes out as a whisper, hushed and quiet and only for her to hear, and he turns to her with a nervous smile and stuttering out his words, and despite her minor rejection of him he still looks excited, like he’s been wanting to do that as long as she has. “i just didn’t know you. like at all.”

and as he leans in his eyes are telling her all she needs to know, that he wants to know her, and now it’s up for her to decide. let him have his way with her, kiss her, and break her heart? let her be the rebound, be with him for even one night, more than she ever could’ve hoped for.

and the thunder rumbles as if a sign from the gods, a tempest threatening her to make up her mind, because her only options are various forms of chaos and she must pick the way she wants to get hurt.

“we should go.” is all he says, taking her silence as a sign to give up, and the thunder as a way out.

but she’s made up her mind, and there’s no changing it now. “we should go inside.”

and he looks down from the heavens that dropped him back to her, not expecting her words, not knowing how to respond other than a smile saying he’d love to.

they don’t need to say anything more as they slip inside, his hand loosely holding hers as he leads her up the stairs to his room, not grip needed because they both know the other won’t let go. their fingers touch, dance around with each other, and even just that slight skin on skin contact is electric.

he leads her to his room and doesn’t turn on the light, let them live in the darkness as he closes the door. he’s gentle and slow, and she thinks his hands are shaking when they go to cup her face, both hands holding her cheeks as he leans in to kiss her. he pauses, letting his eyes adjust to her face in the darkness as he sweeps them over her, checking every part of her face.

“are you sure you want this?”

“yes.” 

he kisses her, slow, like it means the world to him to have her in his embrace. this time she really kisses back, and she lets him lead. she lets him guide her to his bed with soft kisses on her cheek and her neck, lets him strip her off her clothes and lets him whisper his kind compliments, let’s him rest his forehead against hers as they take it slow and she never thought she’d lose her virginity to harry bingham yet he treats her better than any other guy could. and she knows her feelings for him aren’t truly returned, not in the same way she feels for him, yet with the way he holds her as they have sex she thinks that maybe they could be, one day.

when they’re done they lay on their backs, his hand playing with her curls, and she can’t ignore how comfortable the silence is between them. they feel like old friends, old lovers, people who have fucked in a past life. like every incarnation of themselves have known each other in some way, so they don’t need to talk, because they have all the time in the world.

“that was...so great.” he mumbles out, and she knows he means it with the smile on his face and his gentle grip on her hair. she wants to lay here, fall asleep and let this night last forever. no responsibility, no cares, yet the world refuses to be that way. refuses to give her a break, to enjoy herself, it needs to give a cruel reminder as to where she is and what she has done.

the lights flicker on and off, and harry gets out of bed with a disappointed huff in his voice.

“i’ve got to go down and check what’s wrong, make sure everything’s okay.” he says as he puts his clothes back on. she stays where she is watching, trying to shut off her mind from going a mile a minute, from letting her think the wrong thing.

“yeah go, i’ll be down in a minute.” she says, not ready to go down yet, not ready to be seen going down with him. people spread shit fast, and she doesn’t want cassandra to know. 

he’s putting his pants back on when she says that, putting up the zipper and smiling at her. he leans in to give her a kiss on the cheek, it’s awkward and strange and unnatural for both of them, and makes her realize just how naive they both are. he’s not much more experienced than she is, they both are clueless about how to do these things. “i’ll wait down there for you.”

she nods her head with a smile, watching him go before she gets dressed herself, unable to believe her clothes are scattered on harry binghams floor.

when she finally makes her way down he is sitting on the counter waiting for her like he said, smiling when he spots her walk up to him. she smiles and looks down, her nerves of what they just did finally getting to her, but his eyes and smile stays on her, looking at her like she’s so much more than she really is.

she is only half listening to everyone’s conversation about the flickering lights, rather looking at him and taking in all his glory. she thinks he’s the most handsome boy she’s ever seen, and for one night she could call him hers.

she doesn’t give in to the fear like everyone else, allowing herself to revel in the distraction he poses, ignoring as everyone runs out into the rain either home or to the hardware store.

“do you want to go?” he asks her, still sitting on the counter top but gently grabbing her hand with his once the house clears out, pulling her closer into his embrace.

“where?” she asks, but the only thing on her mind is the way he’s looking at her, and his lips.

“the hardware store.” 

she shakes her head, smiling as she holds back a small laugh. “i don’t need a flash light, we got some at home.”

he nods, and their eyes keep playing a little dance, moving between their lips and each others gaze, their minds replaying the events of that night over and over again.

“you can stay over if you want, there’s space in my bed.” he offers, and she questions his intentions. he got what he wanted out of her, she got part of what she wanted too, but she knows he isn’t over kelly after ten days and she knows he isn’t doing this because he likes her. he can’t like her, it’s only been a day.

but she so badly wants to say yes, give herself this moment like she’s done so many times this night, say she did it once because she knows it’ll never happen again. she wants to say yes, but she can’t. “cassandra’s gonna worry if i’m not home, sorry.”

he pulls her closer with their intertwined hands, enough where she stands between his legs and his hand drops hers to rest on her waist, keeping her in his warmth. “well for now stay with me, she can have you tomorrow but for now you’re still mine.”

mine, she never liked that possessive shit, she never thought relationships should be about owning each other. when he says it though, she understands why the idea is appealing to so many people. to be someone elses, to be his, it warms her insides while he warms her outside, and she knows there is no future between them but she really wishes there was.

“who ever said i was yours?” she asked, negging him as she moves her head closer to his, lips grazing his.

“we can be each others...just for tonight.” he kisses her, grip on her waist and neither realize the lights go out again while they’re entangled in each other. her hand in his hair, his hand brushing against her skin under her shirt, and she doesn’t mind being his for the night, as long as he is hers.

they stay like that as their phones both ding, notifications going off, and they try to ignore it as long as they can but the constant ringing in their ears kills the mood. allie reaches for her phone first, turning around in his embrace to read her texts, not missing the way his arms wrap around her and his head rests on her shoulder. she doesn’t miss the way his lips brush against her cheek, the way he reads her texts from cassandra with her alerting them of an emergency, and she doesn’t miss the disappointed sigh they both share of their night being cut short. 

it’s raining outside but he insists on walking, and she doesn’t question why. she thinks it’s because he wants more time with her, but that’s wishful thinking on her part, but it doesn’t matter as they run under his jacket laughing at how ridiculous they must look. bumping into each other trying to stay dry, almost tripping as they steal glances, still in their own world until they reach those who remind them of who they are and who they should be to each other.

cassandra looks between them, her own sister coming with harry, and she can see the betrayal flicker through her eyes before she looks away. 

she doesn’t want to look again, she won’t let her shame her for what she did, because she has no regrets for it.

chaos envelops them and threatens to swallow them whole, and she hates the reminder that this night wasn’t anything real. that this world isn’t their own and the responsibilities never end.

she could be his for the night but when the sun comes out she will be back to what she’s always been, a shadow.