#this game is so fucking good at writing tense and emotional conversations

[fenrhi]

I am eating my arm

[mindyco]

It's kind of hard to decide which TMNT to write for- I binged watched TMNT 2012 back in my day, but the movies and the newer version of TMNT is so fucking good... (ↂ_ↂ;) Artwork credit: @kgmarcy

Scenario: Their reaction to you sitting in their laps

You find Leonardo in the serene environment of the dojo, where he's seated in a meditative stance, his focus centered on finding inner peace. With a gentle smile, you quietly approach him and, without hesitation, settle down on his lap, careful not to disrupt his meditation.

As you nestle against Leonardo's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, his eyes flutter open, momentarily surprised by your presence. However, his surprise quickly gives way to a tender smile. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, as if he's found a source of tranquility in your embrace.

"Sometimes, silence can be the most comforting sound," Leonardo whispers softly, his voice carrying a hint of warmth. With you in his arms, he continues his meditation, finding solace in your shared stillness.

Raphael's training session is in full swing, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead as he works up a sweat. You watch him from the sidelines, admiring his strength and determination. Sensing your gaze upon him, he smirks, seemingly unbothered by your presence.

Unable to resist, you make your way toward him, waiting for the perfect opportunity to surprise him. As he takes a brief break between exercises, you seize the moment and settle onto his lap, your legs draped over his muscular thighs.

Raph's eyes widen in surprise, his muscles tensing momentarily. "What the hell?" he grumbles, trying to maintain his composure. But beneath his gruff exterior, you feel his body relax, his arms instinctively encircling you protectively.

"Mighty brave, ain't ya?" Raph teases, a playful glint in his eyes. You rest your head against his broad shoulder, basking in his comforting presence. You continue to watch his training, your presence acting as a grounding force amid his intense workouts.

Donatello is engrossed in his latest project, surrounded by an array of wires, gadgets, and tools in his makeshift laboratory. You quietly enter the room, marveling at his brilliance and dedication. Spotting an empty spot next to him, you approach and settle on his lap, facing him with a playful smile.

Donatello's eyes widen in surprise, his cheeks flushing a faint shade of red. "Uh, hey there," he stammers, momentarily flustered by your unexpected closeness. Yet, his natural instinct to nurture takes over as he wraps his arms around you, his embrace offering a sense of warmth and security.

With a sheepish grin, Donatello playfully adjusts his glasses, attempting to regain his composure. "You know, sitting on my lap might lead to a sudden surge in brain activity. You've been warned," he chuckles, his voice filled with affection.

You rest your head against his chest, the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat serving as a soothing lullaby. Together, you spend hours engrossed in conversation and laughter, the warmth of his presence fostering an environment of intellectual connection and emotional intimacy.

Michelangelo's energy fills the air as he engages in a spirited game of video games or practices his impressive skateboarding tricks. You approach him, knowing that his vibrant personality welcomes moments of spontaneity.

As he concentrates on his game, you swiftly settle onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. Mikey's eyes widen, a mixture of surprise and delight crossing his face.

"Whoa, dude! Talk about a surprise attack!" he exclaims, his laughter infectious. Without missing a beat, he wraps his arms around your waist, the playful banter and laughter filling the room.

～ 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪

[erodasfishtacos]

#HendallReunited

prompt: request was to write broad but to write something angsty

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: language, sexual content, angst

Harry always had issues with saying ‘no’ to people. He never quite grew out of his manners even when he should have.

He said ‘yes’ to way too many things- signing autographs for rude fans and paparazzi, and agreed to way too many things Jeff suggested.

Saying yes to everything didn’t make his life any easier is the thing. Especially when it came to his wife. She was usually left with the aftermath of him being too nice.

The media painted Y/N in a negative light occasionally and so did the fans because she would stand up for Harry and not let him say ‘yes’ to every single request.

She would tell disrespectful fans he’s not signing autographs because of the way they were screaming and interrupting his work.

Harry wished he could do it himself - admired that his wife didn’t give a fuck what people thought about her. He cared entirely too much what the world would think.

The couple didn’t fight about much - no, not really. Normal couple stuff for the most part. But this was the exception, this is where Y/N found most of their turmoil.

Every few months it would rear it’s ugly head and they’d find themselves in the same position over and over again.

This time - it was really fucking bad.

The couple had been staying in their Los Angeles home for the last few months whilst the singer finalized his album and began promotion.

It was boring meeting among boring lunch outings to get all their ducks in a row. Jeff - his manager the main orchestrator.

He was a great manager and a good friend, but it was also business too which Harry didn’t always comprehend.

At the end of the day, Harry was making Jeff millions upon millions of dollars. But Harry didn’t think that way.

**

Harry was in a stuffy conference room at the The Late Late Show to work on the script and ideas for the show. Promo had been nonstop.

He was a bit tired as it was nearly just hitting eight in the morning and he had been up late with you - having some late night loving in the hot tub.

“As for guest - Kendall Jenner,” James Corden’s producer states. All the men agree but Harry is taken aback.

“Why...why would we have my ex-girlfriend as one of my guests?” Harry interrupts, confusion knitting his brows.

Kendall and him didn’t end on a bad note - not at all. They hooked up a few times after their ‘break-up’ but once he’d met Y/N she was understanding when he cut it off.

Y/N wasn’t necessarily jealous of the model, but didn’t love when they’d run into each other at events. She was still overtly flirty with Harry without much shame. 

Harry also didn’t have an desire to see her or host her as a guest on the show. She was nice but he wasn’t interested in being friends with her. They didn’t have much in common and he was head over heels for his wife.

“The media will eat it up, dude. Harry Styles and Kendall Jenner reunited on a show after four years?” Jeff smiles, the others nodding in amicable agreement.

This is one of this times where Harry needs to say “no,” that it’s disrespectful to his significant other to use an old flame for promo for his album.

He already knows ‘hendall’ will be trending within minutes and he can’t imagine how that would make his parter feel.

“I just...this doesn’t seem like a good idea?” Harry begins hesitantly, making it sound more like a question than a statement. 

“Why not?” Eric, one of the writers asks.

“Y’know, I’m married. I don’t think m’missus would appreciate if I did somethin’ like that just for promotion,” he states, scratching at his jaw uncomfortably.

“Look Styles, we’re not asking you to fuck the girl. It just a interview, c’mon,” The executive producer gruffs - wanting those guaranteed views.

Harry swallows - looking at his manager and then at everyone else at the table looking at him for an affirmative answer.

“Uh-sure,” Harry fumbles, feeling anxiety rise into his throat. Fuck, he’s such a god damn pushover.

He’s trying to find his voice to go back on his agreement but the meeting wrapping up and people are leaving with final handshakes.

**

Harry doesn’t know how to tell Y/N what is going on. He’d been keeping in stored in the back of his mind, not ready to have a blowout.

He never found the perfect time to bring it up and now it was too late. It was the morning of the show and he was due to be at the rehearsals this afternoon.

Harry had finally decided he was going to tell her this morning over coffee but forgot that she had a girl’s day planned with a few friends.

She was already out to breakfast with them when he woke up. His phone had one text from you.

Hi baby. I’m out with the girls. See you at the show tonight. I’ll meet you there around six! Love you!

He was fucked royally and he had no one to blame but himself. Maybe it’d be okay, maybe she’d roll her eyes and tell him he’s an idiot.

Realistically he knew that was just a sweet dream at this point.

—

Harry was fidgety and kept mucking up his lines during rehearsal as it got closer to the showtime and his missus arriving.

Kendall had arrived for hair and makeup without seeing her ex-boyfriend yet. He dreaded seeing the model.

Kendall and Y/N had met a few times at different events. It was always cordial. Kendall was always casual - their relationship was never more than a couple fun dates and sex.

They were kind to each other when they met but he couldn’t deny how much harder his partner kissed him on the mouth afterwards.

Before he know it, his wife is hugging him from behind as he talks to a producer about which cameras to look at.

Y/N noticed the way he tensed up at first and thought about how unusual that was for him. Normally, he’d lean back into her with his full weight causing them both to stumble and laugh.

He slowly, cautiously turns around and his face  relaxes a little bit but not completely. “Hi baby,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss.

“You look so handsome,” she replies, admiring his brown pinstriped suit and her pearl necklace that he’d snagged awhile back. She thought it looked better on him anyways.

“You look even better, s’fuckin’ pretty, love,” he gushes, coming back in for another kiss - a little too sensual for the setting.

She was donned in a cropped white shirt, showing of the smooth expanse of her tummy. An oversized blazer of Harry’s, ripped jeans, and heels. 

Harry thought fleetingly he couldn’t wait to fuck her after the show. Then remembered that mostly wouldn’t happen.

Reggie, the musical lead, slides up to you two. He smiles wide at you, saying, “Can’t believe you agreed to the guest this evening.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, Harry’s raise nearly to his forehead, but when she opens her mouth to ask him to explain they’re interrupted.

“Harry!” The leggy model trots over to the little group. Dressed in an interesting one-piece suit that has sewn in heels. She looked beautiful as ever, of course she was a model.

Both of them turn towards the oblivious girl, “Kendall,” Harry replies with a twinge of anxiety - eyes repeatedly looking at his significant other’s profile as multiple emotions flash.

“Hiya, you’re Y/N right?” Kendall smiles kindly, offering her manicured hand.

She accepts, “Yeah, uh-good to see you again.”

Harry knew she had connected the dots quickly in her head. The hurt, confusion, had hit her eyes before narrowing into full-blown rage at her partner.

“I promise I’ll go easy on him,” Kendall jokes before pinching at Harry’s cheek teasingly. The model was a natural flirt with everyone she got along with.

“Oh, sure,” she replies lamely, attempting to not let her feelings burst out in that moment with her husband . She knew it wasn’t Kendall’s fault.

“I’m going to go grab a bite to eat. I’m probably gonna puke when we do ‘spill or fill’. See you guys soon,” the model waves before trailing off with her assistant.

“Did you kn- of course you knew she was your guest,” Y/N seethes, turning to fully face the guilt-stricken-singer.

He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I did.”

“How long have you known for?” She demands to know, keeping her voice at an angry whisper to not draw attention.

Harry wasn’t going to lie to his love, “About two weeks.”

Y/N replies with a laugh, “let me guess, you let Jeffrey talk you into this bullshit, again.”

His silence is all she needs to know it’s true.

“For Christ’s sake, of course,” She huffs bitterly, “what’s even worse is you didn’t fucking tell me. What the fuck?”

Harry bites his lip, not able to rasp out anything but a pathetic, “m’sorry, love.”

He wasn’t usually good at taking responsibility during a fight. He was stubborn at best but he couldn’t deny his way out of this.

“You will be, you-“

They were cut off by the staff, the audience was trailing in and Harry needed to get mic’d up now.

“This conversation isn’t over,” she points her finger at his chest before storming off to the side of the stage where she’d watch from.

Fucking shit.

**

Harry was a performer. It’s easy for him to push things to the back of his mind so he can entertain a enamored audience.

But tonight, he was struggling. Eyes flicking over to the teleprompter more than usual, his demeanor not as vivid and carefree.

Not when his wife was glaring daggers at him from stage right. Her hand constantly at her mouth, biting at her nails - a nervous tick of hers.

“Next up, the one, the only, the beautiful model and one of my good friends, Kendall Jenner!” Harry introduces when she walks out and waves at the crowd.

They hug and when they pull apart they step over to where they were playing the game. Either answer the question or eat a nasty food picked out by the other.

They weren’t allowed to see each other’s questions before the game started- both going on blind which put Harry more on edge.

“Okay, Kendall. Rank the members of One Direction on most to least attractive or you will be eating...” Harry spins the table, “Cow tongue.”

She flinched at the disgusting plate, smirking up at Harry before considering her course of action, “I think I can answer this one.”

He wasn’t looking forward to her answer. Neither was Y/N by the way she nearly shaking her foot off her leg.

“Okay, I got this. You - the most attractive, then uh- Zayn....Louis...Niall...Liam,” she laughs, “but all of you are hot!”

Harry fake laughs and acts like he’s impressed by her answer as the crowd roars and cheers. 

When Kendall picks up her notecard - she laughs in surprise at the question before looking at him with bright eyes.

“Okay, um, bull penis!” She giggles before starting the question, “I’m dying to know this answer. So...your first album HS1 was released four years ago, correct?”

He nods, apprehensive.

“Which songs were about me? Especially was only angel?” She laughs at Harry’s pale expression before without another thought he shovels the rancid food into his mouth.

Harry looks off to the side to see that his missus is no longer sitting there. Just Jeff - who gives him a thumbs up.

**

The first thing he did when the show ended and the lights dimmed was bolt off to Jeff - ignoring Kendall who was about to say something to him.

“Where’d Y/N go?”

He thought she might have went out to get a breathe of fresh air but for the next hour and a half he hasn’t seen her once.

“She said she wasn’t feeling very good. She told me to tell you she’d meet you at home,” Jeff shrugs unbothered.

“Damnit!” Harry curses loudly, ripping out of the microphone and the little pack in his back waistband.

“Harry,” Jeff scolds at his unprofessionalism that was abnormal for him.

“No! Don’t fucking ever ask me to do shit like this again. You fucking knew what questions were on those notecards and you said it wasn’t anything about our previous relationship.”

“Harry-“

“Don’t fucking talk to me. You’re a real shit manager sometimes, you know that? Do not contact me tonight or tomorrow for that matter, you douchebag,” Harry barks before storming off towards the dressing rooms.

All the employees were standing around in shock, staring at the popstar as he ignored everyone around him.

Harry was famously known for being a kind, amicable guy. So it took everyone by surprise to hear him speak like that. Even Jeff was shaken up a little.

—

The house was pitch-black as Harry pulled up. The house’s first floor was lined with large, bay windows and not a single light was on.

He could find one room illuminated which was your bedroom. A dim side lamp must have been flicked on. He imagined her purposely turning off all the lights on the trek up the staircase.

Harry didn’t want to admit how much he was trembling with awful nerves and anticipation as he slowly turns the knob of the shared bedroom.

Y/N wasn’t laying in bed as he expected but found the bathroom door shut tightly. He noticed a little yellow bag with tissue paper off to the side by a dresser.

He knocks on the oak door, not daring to enter without permission.

“What do you want?” Y/N answers, tone flat and emotionless. 

“Can I come in, baby? Please...” He wasn’t ashamed to beg for forgiveness at this point. Hearing the emptiness in her tone scared him shitless.

“I really could care less,” She replies coldly from her spot in the scalding water decorated with bubbles.

Harry had never felt more unsure in his life as he enters the bathroom.  Y/N had gotten proper pissed at him or vice versa before - right before a concert, an award ceremony but she’d never left without him.

Her head was laying against the foam headrest and her body was covered by the soap water. She looked tired and her eyes were puffy from crying.

Harry kneels next to the tub, “look at me, please pet.”

 Y/N takes a moment before turning her head and opening her eyes. They were distant, disappointed in the man in front of her.

“I should have told you about Kendall. I should have put up more of a fight to get someone else on instead,” Harry admits, his hands desperately wanting to reach out for her.

She shakes her head with a heart-wrenching sniffle, “it’s not just tonight, Harry. We’ve had this conversation continuously for three and a half fucking years. You try to please everyone, despite them giving no fucks about you.”

“Are you that much of a pushover? You let your ex-girlfriend flirt with you in front of millions. Do you know how embarrassing and unfair that it to me?” She wipes at her eyes to stop the tears spilling over.

Harry hadn’t thought of it like that - to be honest. But he agrees, it wasn’t fair and downright cruel to do that to her.

What? All because he couldn’t say ‘no’ because he didn’t want people to be mad at him? It was pathetic and ridiculous.

“I-I won’t let it happen again, lovie. I mean it, I truly do,” Harry whimpers reaching over to cup her cheek and wants to cry when she pushes him away.

“You’re a broken record. You’ve said that a million times before but don’t change,”  Y/N points out, eyes boring furiously into his wife’s.

“I’m goi-“

She cuts him off with a sharp edge in her tone, “Just leave me alone, get out.”

The man’s face crumbles and for a second, she wants to just end the fight and makeup but then nothing would change.

“Baby-“

“Get out!” She finally bellows, tears streaming down her face steadily.

He obliges, head hung in defeat as he closes the door behind him. He stands there’s blankly for a second before going to the walk-in closet.

He’s pulling out a fresh pair of cotton underwear and a large sleepshirt for his partner, laying them neatly on the bed.

Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself while he waits so he pulls out his phone to mindlessly scroll.

He throws it against the wall when he sees #hendallreunited is trending number one on Twitter at the moment.

The singer strips down to his briefs and sits with his back against the tufted headboard, staring blankly at the wall.

His eyes catch a neon pink pair of his swimshorts tossed carelessly on the decorative vase in the corner of the room from the night before .

“Fuck, baby - no need to rush,” Harry groans into Y/N ‘s mouth as she pushes him until he’s sat on the edge of their California king.

She reaches impatiently for the tie on his neon pink swimshorts and yanks them off his slim, peach-fuzz thighs before throwing them onto the vase without a care that it was worth over twenty-thousand pounds.

After edging her in the hot tub with his fingers and mouth, she wasn’t waiting any longer before clambering onto his lap, pulling her swim bottoms to the side, and sinking onto him.

He felt guilty when his cock twitched at the thought of it. But when reality set back in, the arousal with the memory evaporated.

It isn’t much longer until the door is pulled open and  Y/N’s padding into the room with a towel secured around her.

She looks at the clothes Harry set out for her and pointedly walks past them to pick out her own nightwear. 

That really shouldn’t make his eyes tear up as he watches her slide on a similar pair of panties and an oversized shirt. Spotting a purpling bruise on her upper in thigh from his mouth.

 Y/N silently walks past the bed and to the bedroom door, looking back before bleakly stating, “I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”

He frowns, wrinkles appearing on his forehead, “You can sleep in here, love. I’ll take the guest room.”

Harry doesn’t get a reply as she just shakes her head and closes the door loudly behind her. 

It’s just - he’s never seen her this upset. She was usually fantastic at communicating her feelings and hashing things out.

She wasn’t one for the silent treatment or ignoring the topic. It had his chest rising faster than usual with anxiety. The serious of it overwhelming him.

He states at the wall for a very long time without wiping the fat tears brimming over his trembling lips.

*

He couldn’t sleep - it was half past three and he hadn’t even laid down or clicked off the lamp.

Harry accepted sleep wasn’t coming so he begins to tidy the already clean room. He picks up the shorts and tossing them in the hamper.

He refolds some joggers he’d carelessly shoved in a drawer and when he went to move the little yellow bag - curiosity got the best of him.

There was no card and he wasn’t sure who it was for or if it had been a gift already give to Y/N that she had returned home with.

Harry really shouldn’t - but he does. Gently tugging out the paper and reaching in to feel fabric.

Pulling it out, it takes him a minute to identify what it is - two baby onesie. Who was having a baby?

He lays them in front of him, eyes widening in surprise as he reads what is printed across the black cotton.

The first one was the colors and font of his upcoming tour merch with the photo he used on his tour announcement with the heeled boot and white pants.

Love on Tour - Due Date: September 2025

With Special Guest Appearance from Baby Styles

The second one was simple and read across the chest:

I’m having your baby (and it is your business) with embroidered kiwis all of over it.

He frantically reached back into the bag to pull out a bundle of pregnancy tests tied with a silk bow.

They weren’t necessarily trying for a baby but they’re weren’t not trying either. Harry wanted a baby as soon as his missus was willing to give him one.

“No, no, don’t one,” she’d whined into his mouth when he’d reached over to grab a condom off the nightstand.

“Oh sweet thing, you want me bare? Fill you up?” He croons happily, coming back to grip at his thick base and tease at her entrance.

“Ye-yeah, H. Please,” (Y/N) whimpers, bucking her hips in the hope he’d slip inside her.

Harry hums, “Might give you a baby though, y’want me to knock you up?”

“Want it, wan-“

He cuts her off with a hard, blissful kiss as he thrusts all the way inside before pulling out to do it again. 

“Gonna give it to you, whatever you want, lovie,” he promises.

The two had never used protection afterwards. It had start about seven months ago and from his knowledge she’d still been getting her periods regularly.

Occasionally, he would palm at her flat tummy and pout, “Haven’t put a baby in you yet, ‘ave I?”

He was so ecstatic but disappointed in himself for ruining everything and pleasing everyone other than who he should be.

Harry needed to fix this. He didn’t want Y/N to lose the excitement of having their baby over a dumb choice of his.

The man’s out of the room and not knocking before entering their guest room. His now pregnant love is laying on-top of the covers.

One hand subconsciously on her belly - which she removes and places next to her when her wife walks in.

The television was on but the volume was low and Y/N wasn’t watching it in the first place anyways.

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, “I opened the yellow bag.”

She looks at him with wide eyes, a little taken aback. she was going to surprise him tonight and forgot to store it away for another time after the fight.

Harry has happy tears dribbling down his cheeks, “you’re having my baby?”

Y/N nods, running a slight hand through his curls. She still had a nasty knot of anger and uncertainty in the pit of her stomach.

It pains her, wanting to share this moment of excitement with Harry but she just couldn’t. The uncertainty of whether Harry would put everybody’s needs before his own baby.

“Come back to bed, want t’talk and celebrate. M’so bloody excited,” Harry murmurs, a large smile decorating his face as he smooths a palm over the expanse of her tummy.

His wife shakes her head and places a hand over his, feeling the cold metal of all of them. “I want to be left alone.”

The twinkle in Harry’s eye diminishes to devastation as he realizes that he’s fucked up so badly that she doesn’t even want to celebrate.

“Pet, can...we just forget about it tonight and be happy ‘bout the baby?” Harry asks selfishly, knowing it was unlikely she’d agree.

She didn’t, a firm expression on her face, “no, I have a lot to think about.”

“Like wha’?” He asks anxiously, unknowing of quite the reason she was so furious.

“Like how you say yes to everything and everyone. We talk and talk about how you need to say ‘no’ and do what’s best for you - for us. You agree to and never follow through”

She takes a shaky breath and continues, “it’s affected our relationship before when you’ve had to cancel our vacation away from all this for a charity concert you’d agree to perform at last minute, dinner reservations because you told your friend we’d be at their art showing they wanted you at.”

Harry knew she was right. He did those things. He wanted everyone to be happy with him - to a fault.

“Tonight was just icing on the cake, you allowed your manager to talk you into hosting your ex on that show. Out of all the people in the world - her. With flirty questions and jabs from her. You let that happen. You care about making everyone happy but in return you don’t care how it affects me. That’s pretty shitty.”

“I’m...I’m really fucking scared you’ll do that even when we have the baby. I need you to put them first and right now...I’m not sure if you’re going to. You can’t put the person you want to spend the rest of your life with first now, how do I know you’ll do it with the baby?”

Harry chokes out a sob as he presses his forehead against the bed, his broad shoulders shaking. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried this hard - years ago maybe. He felt like his wife didn’t have any faith in him and he was to blame.

He looks up at her with swollen eyes - at a loss for what to do or say. He loved her so much and was over the moon that they were going to have a baby.

“How do I fix this, darling? You’re right, I really fucked up. M’sorry,” Harry cries, grabbing at her hands and she allows it.

“Just saying you’re sorry won’t fix it,” Y/N replies flatly, letting Harry squeeze and kiss at the backs of her hands.

“Then what do I bloody do to fix this?” Harry raises his voice in frustration, staring in bewilderment at his wife. 

Y/N narrows her eyes at him, “Do not raise your voice at me, Harry. Actions speak louder than words.”

Harry swallows harshly, pressing one finally kiss to her hand. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She repeats.

“I love you, I’ll fix this,” he promises with conviction. He knew what he needed to do and do it tomorrow. So he and his wife could enjoy her new pregnancy.

“I need space tonight, I just...please”Y/N says quietly, rubbing at his shoulder.

It wasn’t the first time they’ve slept in separate rooms because they weren’t getting along but they normally found their way back to each other before sunrise.

Harry nods, lip still tremble with the residual anxiety of the conversation. She allows him to press a soft kiss to her mouth before leaving the room.

—-

Cafe Habana was busy - but no one was paying much attention to Harry and Jeff. It was the morning after and Harry had demanded a meeting over breakfast with his manager.

“Y/N pregnant,” Harry states bluntly after their drinks arrive.

“Oh? Congratulations, dude. That’s exciting!” Jeff leans over to pat him on the shoulder, a big smile.

“The baby is due in September. My next tour starts in next July. The baby will be about nine months. I want to be at home with them for the first year.”

Jeff doesn’t look pleased, “what are you getting at Harry?”

“Reschedule the July and August tour dates. Tack them on to the end of the tour,” Harry lays out flat. 

He hadn’t talk to his wife about this but he knew this was how he could prove that he could say ‘no’ and not be a pushover.

“No Harry. Look I get you’re excited about the baby - but that will be such a fucking hassle,” Jeff frowns, sipping his mimosa.

“I’m not asking, Jeff. I’m telling you that’s what needs to happen,” Harry replies firmly, tone strong and unwavering.

Jeff is definitely taken aback by his client’s conviction. 

“While we’re on the topic, do not ever put me in a situation like you did yesterday. It affected my wife and I. And I will choose her over this career any day.”

The manager nods in surprise, “Harry, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking for an apology but if you ever pull something like then I’ll be looking for a new management team. Are we clear?” 

Jeff once again nods, unsure of where this is coming from but at the thought of losing his biggest client would be disastrous so he’d do whatever to accommodate him.

“Consider it done,” he tells Harry before clearing his throat in a slight panic.

—

Y/N woke up to an empty house. She was restless, she asked Harry to prove to her that he could be what she needed. However, it was a bit unfair because she didn’t know how he could do it.

It’s just…she had a baby to think about. They both needed to be put first and if it took a gnarly fight for Harry to realize it...so be it.

“Baby? Love, where are you?” She hears Harry echo through the whole house. She was sat in the kitchen, on a stool by the island, idly sorting through mail.

“In here!”

Harry jogs in, panting like he sprinted from the garage up to the kitchen. He comes to stand in front of the love of his life.

“I might have not completely fixed everything but...I tried,” Harry tells her, cradling her face in his large palms. “ I just got back from lunch with Jeff. I told him about the baby.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I rescheduled tour dates so I can be with you guys at home in London for the first year. Then...maybe you guys can join me after?”

“Harry…” she’s at a loss for words.

“And I told Jeff that if he ever puts me in a situation like that again, I’m firing him.”

Y/N stares at him, in awe and admiration of the man she chose to marry and keep forever. His face was so sincere and vulnerable.

Harry didn’t know whether it would be enough. If it wasn’t he’d keep trying but all he could do was hope. He waited with bated breath as she processed his words.

“Baby, you-for me?” She murmurs as she stands up and crowds into his space. He instantly wraps her up into a tight hug, missing her touch.

“Of course, pet. I’d do anything for you, I mean it. I’d quit this whole career if you wanted tha’,” he tells her truthfully - lips brushing her forehead.

“I love you, so so much,” Y/N murmurs, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“We’re havin’ a baby,'' Harry sighs dreamily into her mouth, tongue sliding against hers. A large hand came to palm at her belly.

“Yeah, m‘having your baby,” She giggles as he begins to trail the kisses down her jaw and neck - pressing her into the marble countertop.

“Should we name it Kiwi?” Harry rasps as he slides the tank top strap off her shoulder so his lips can meet the cap of her warm shoulder.

“We are not going to be that celebrity couple who names their baby something weird,” Y/N groans as he grounds his hips into hers with intent.

THE END

[onceupon]

London Boy - Part 3: I like girls that dance

summary: It’s your first night out and your first real introduction to Westheath. Rafe is quick to find his way on your radar.

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 4.6k

a/n: the way I’m imagining Jack Harlow as I write Liam 😩✋also, im pulling these chapter titles out of my ass - but actually tho, go listen to Girls That Dance by Masego 

Part 1 Part 2

Despite your doubts, you put on the sheer top and the black mini skirt Millie and Olivia had insisted you wear. Your favorite pregame playlist plays as you do your makeup in the mirror. You move as quickly as you can, in desperate need of a shot to calm your nerves before your flat fills with people. You’re also nervous about seeing Rafe after that encounter in the kitchen you just had. 

As you run your fingers through your hair and put on your earrings, all you can see is his stupid (and annoyingly attractive) face, staring down at you with that dumb backwards cap, telling you that you guys should watch Game of Thrones together. Every time your mind starts to think if that means something, you quickly shut down the thought. Of course it doesn’t mean anything. Just because a boy wants to watch a show with you does not automatically mean he wants you or that this was going to turn into some kind of Netflix and chill situation. Or was this gonna be a Netflix and chill situation? I mean it was Rafe Cameron after all, the boy certainly had a reputation. But then again, hadn’t he just showed you that he’s different from what you had expected? Oh god this was all too much to think about right now, you needed a shot. Stat. 

“Y/N!” Olivia shouts, swinging the door to your room open right on cue. “Oh. My. God. You look so hot!” she exclaims. “Here, this is for you,” she extends a shot glass toward you with a devilish grin. 

“Oh god what is it,” you grimace. Shots always seemed like a better idea in theory than in practice. 

“Try it and find out,” she smirks. You sigh and send the liquid to the back of your throat, immediately cringing at the sting of raspberry vodka, Olivia bringing a cup of cranberry juice to your mouth to chase. 

“Don’t worry love, a few more and you won’t even taste it. Now come on,” she laughs, dragging you with her to the kitchen. The rest of your flatmates are already there, Millie bopping along to the music, giggling at whatever Topper is saying, Rafe standing close by sipping his drink. 

“Y/n you hottie!” Millie cheers, looking up as you make your way into the kitchen. You pray to god your cheeks aren’t turning pink. You don’t dare turn your head, but you know Rafe is staring at you. If you looked at him now you’d be crimson for sure. 

“Alright everybodyyy,” Olivia begins, pouring the same raspberry vodka into the five shot glasses she has lined up on the table. You can’t help but laugh at her infectious energy, this girl is nothing if not the life of the party. 

“Cheers to our first night out as flat mates! Wooo!!!” she exclaims, as everyone grabs a shot glass from the table, Rafe instinctively passing you one, hands briefly touching during the exchange and again as you all clink your glasses. You down the contents, unsure if the heat forming in your chest is from the vodka or the feeling of Rafe’s passing touch. 

Pretty soon people start to arrive, Olivia and Millie making sure to introduce everyone. The flat becomes a blur of bodies drinking, dancing, and mingling about, and somehow, despite it all, Rafe Cameron is the person you find yourself standing with. There was something magnetic about him that you couldn’t quite understand, but it kept drawing you near. 

“What are you drinking tonight Cameron,” you nod at the cup in his hand.

“Jack and coke. Of course,” he scoffs with subtle sarcasm, which you instantly pick up on. 

“Not straight whiskey? Wow. That’s not very Figure 8 of you,” you admonish playfully.

“Straight whiskey? L/n who do you think I am?” he twists his face in mock disbelief. “But I’m game to do a shot if you are,” he adds.

“Hmm that does-“ you begin, but you’re quickly cutoff. 

“Y/n, babe, if I had known you’d be here I would’ve came sooner,” Liam greets you with a kiss on the cheek and a cheeky smile. 

“Now how on earth do you two know each other,” Millie asks, walking in line with the boy.

“Umm,” you chuckle nervously. You could not have possibly felt more awkward at the conversation unfolding in front of you, Rafe standing by as witness to it all. “He’s that boy I went to the bar with the other night,” you explain sheepishly.

“That was Liam!? Chrissake. Well I apologize on his behalf for anything he said or did.”

“Hey I’ll have you know I’m a proper gentleman!” he defends, throwing you a wink as Millie rolls her eyes. Just at that moment, another group of people walk in through the door, conveniently coming to Rafe’s rescue.

“Rafe!” a girl calls and he clears his throat excusing himself, Millie following suit to greet the latest batch of guests. You watch as he leans in for a hug with the girl who’s just called his name. She’s twirling her hair and batting her eyes, confident, flirty, gorgeous - just his type. A sick feeling pools in your stomach, you don’t even realize you’re staring. 

“Lily Colts, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Liam informs you as he takes the now empty spot next to you.

“Oh, um no, I was just uh-“

“It’s okay Y/n, I get it. So flatmate huh” he laughs, unbothered.

“No no it’s not like that at all I uh-”

“Alright. Y/n,” he says, jumping up to sit on the counter behind him, cracking open the can in his hand. “You know I think you’re hot and you know I like messing with you-”

“Actually I know neither of those things,” you reply indignantly. 

“Yes you do, you’re not dim,” he bulldozes right on, “I can read people pretty well, and there was a vibe there.”

“A vibe?”

“Yeah. Between you and what’s-his-face. You should’ve seen the way he tensed up when I came up to you,” he snickers in amusement.

“Shut up. His name is Rafe, by the way, and there was no ‘vibe.’ Also why are you even telling me this?” you ask, growing frustrated with the cocky brunette.

“Y/n please,” he scoffs. “I told you I can read people, so let me read you. You’re out here in London right, far away from home, keen for a fresh start. You’ve never been one for meaningless flings, but fuck it, if everyone else can do it, why not you? Or so you try to convince yourself, but you know that’s not you. See, you crave that emotional connection, and when you find even a hint of it, you’re a goner. Which is why you’d never actually hook up with me and it’s why you’re staring at that boy from home even though you swear you don’t care, but you do - you feel something there.”

You’re dumbfounded by his ability to know things about you that even you yourself can’t recognize. “I liked it better when you were just flirting with me,” you grumble.  

“No worries darling, I’ll definitely still do that. I’ll even dance on you in the club if you ask nicely, might make pretty boy over there jealous,” he motions with his eyes toward Rafe, at which you give his shoulder a shove.

“You’re an idiot you know, Millie was right on the money with that,” you quip, as the two of you head over to her, Liv, and the boys.

“Please, Millie wishes she could be right on something else,” he says as you shoot him a glare, trying your best to suppress a laugh. Liam was starting to become a pain in your ass, too smart for his own good, but at least he was a funny one.

—

Your first night clubbing was going great. The place was packed, the music was good, and you were having a blast dancing with Liv, Millie, and their friends. You couldn’t help looking around the club though, eyes scanning for Rafe in the crowd. He’d been hanging out all night with Topper and some of the guys from their new soccer team. You longed to be near him somehow, to interact with him again. All your conversations with him earlier today had left you with an excited buzz - you didn’t know what it was about this version of Rafe Cameron in London, but you were actually enjoying his company.

You try to push him out of your mind and just enjoy the moment. It’s not like there was anything between you and Rafe, you had just barely began to form a semblance of a potential friendship today, let’s not get carried away. Besides, you live with the boy, accidentally running into him wasn’t going to be much of a challenge. 

“Anyone want anything from the bar?” you shout over the music to your friends.

“Vodka soda with lime please!” Olivia shouts back and you nod, turning to make your way to the counter a few feet away. You place your order and mindlessly tap your fingers on the bar as a figure appears beside you.

“Hey, Y/n right? Flatmates with Olivia, Mills, and the boys?” the girl asks, and you turn, now face to face with Lily. 

“Uh yeah, hey,” you feign a smile back. 

“I’m Lily, nice to meet you,” she smiles genuinely. “I’m friends with all the Westheath bozos you’ve probably been meeting tonight,” she laughs, “Callum and Henry over there are my best mates. They’re on the football team with Rafe and Topper, we were showing them around earlier. My god you guys have been hoarding some cute ones over there in America.”

You chuckle, “glad that Kildare’s presence can at least be of some benefit.” 

“So, girl to girl here, what can you tell me about Rafe Cameron? He’s such a hottie isn’t he? Would love to get a taste of that,” she smirks, licking her lips.

“Umm I don’t really have much to tell,” you say, unsure of how to navigate this conversation. You could tell her what you thought you knew of Outer Banks Rafe - he’s a rich, party-boy player. But after today, that no longer felt right. You didn’t want to say or presume anything about him at all actually, it felt wrong to talk about him like that. God, what the hell was wrong with you? You spend a few hours with the boy and you already have a soft spot for him? You needed to get a grip. “Our families know each other but we don’t really hang out at home. He’s uh- he’s cool though,” you decide as a sufficient response.

“Any girl friend?” she asks, sliding cash over to the bartender as she orders a shot.

“Rafe’s not really the ‘girlfriend-type’,” you answer, bartender sliding you the drinks you ordered and Lily her’s. 

“Well then cheers to that,” she grins, clinking her shot glass to your drink before she downs it, waving a quick goodbye. You watch as she makes her way back to Rafe and their group, adorning a flirty smile. You feel sick to your stomach. You wanted to hate her, you did. But you couldn’t. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was just confident, outgoing, and not afraid to go after what she wanted. There was nothing for you to be angry about, who was stopping you from doing the same?

 But in the back of your mind you decided you could never go after Rafe like that. He would never be interested in you in that way, you were sure of it. You had a hard time believing your friends when they hyped you up, so you definitely weren’t going to believe for a single second that a boy you thought was cool could possibly look at you in the same way. Besides, the mere idea of being rejected by Rafe Cameron, and then having to continue living with him and eventually go back to the Outer Banks for everyone to find out you had been rejected by the kook prince, was so mortifying that the very thought made you want to crawl into a hole. So you promise yourself, right then and there, that you won’t let yourself get hurt like that. You could hang out with Rafe, get to know him, become friends even, but under no circumstances could you be caught wearing your heart on your sleeve. You couldn’t disarm yourself like that and give him the upper hand. You needed to look out for yourself first and foremost, preserving the little bit of control you still had over your life. 

You walk back over to your friends, slipping Liv her drink as her and Jake dance together. Your new friends are all tipsy and in a world of their own, getting lost in the music and their movements.

“Dance with me,” you turn to Liam who’s right beside you.

“I said if you ask nicely,” he admonishes sarcastically, to which you roll your eyes.

“I’m not gonna beg Liam. You wanna dance or not?”

“Sheesh, Lily Colts got your panties in a twist like that?”

“Not. At. All.” You confidently stare into his eyes, sipping your drink. It’s no use, Liam knows you all too well by now, and you curse yourself for the way in which this boy is able to see right through all the walls you put up. You may think these walls are made of brick, but to Liam they’re glass.

He just laughs at you, shaking his head in amusement. He grabs your free hand and pulls you closer to him, your bodies now pressed together. He takes your hand and rests it on the back of his neck, his finding their way to your hips. He plants his leg in between yours and soon you guys are lost in the rhythm. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying every second. He spins you around and you lightly grind your ass against him.

“Damn Y/n, I didn’t know you move like that,” he jokes, as you face forward again. He leans in, his hand on the small of your back, and you feel his breath right against your ear, “he’s looking by the way.” Your breath hitches, but you know better than to turn around. Liam is already one step ahead of you, instinctively twirling you again so you can quickly catch a glimpse of Rafe’s eyes on yours without it being obvious. “Told you he’d be jealous,” he smirks down at you triumphantly.

“Shut up,” you reply, the slightest smile tugging at your lips as your sweaty bodies continue to move to the music.

—-

“Aw flatmate bonding you guysss,” Olivia gushes, as you all sit together at a booth. She had forced you all out of your beds this morning to get breakfast together. Despite being hungover and groggy, you all reluctantly agreed. “Mimosas anyone?” she jokes.

“If I so much as smell any alcohol I think I’ll vomit,” Topper groans.

“Aw, what’s the matter, can’t handle your liquor Tops?” Millie asks, quirking her head to the side.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny. Could ask you the same question. My room is right next to the bathroom, don’t think I didn’t hear your retching last night,” he snaps back, to which Millie turns bright red and soon you’re all hunched over in laughter.

“I think a mimosa would make me yak right now too, to be fair. Coffees all around!” Olivia asserts.

You’re seated across from Rafe as you both scan your menus, your eyes immediately fixing in on the pancakes. The waiter comes by to take all your orders and you can’t help but blush a little when Rafe orders pancakes and you have to follow with a “same for me.” Such a silly, meaningless thing, I mean everyone likes pancakes. But being the only one to have the same exact order as Rafe leaves you feeling embarrassed, for no good reason all the same. You all begin to scarf down your food as soon as it arrives, thankful to have something to soak up the alcohol in your stomachs, as you share stories and laugh about last night’s drunken antics. 

“So how is it that we’re all flatmates and yet I only have Topper’s contact. Come on, add ‘em in,” Rafe says, sliding his unlocked phone to the middle of the table.

“Wait I want snapchats too. Oooh! And instagram!” Olivia pipes, whipping out her phone as well.

“I expect no booty calls Cameron. This is strictly business,” Millie jokes, typing in her and Olivia’s numbers before passing his phone to you. 

“Am I allowed a booty call?” Topper smirks, extending his phone as well.

“I wouldn’t push your luck Thornton,” she smirks back and he pouts in response. You finish typing your name and number into Rafe’s phone and hand it back to him, skin briefly making contact once again. Even though you had known Rafe all your life, somehow you two never had a reason to exchange numbers, only following each other on Instagram which he never posted on anyways.

“Alright everyone, pull up your snapchat codes, I wanna make a group,” Olivia says and everyone obliges, arms crossing every which way as you all add each other. “What should we name our group chat? Ooo can we do a ship name of our schools - like Kilheath or Westare?” 

“I like Kilheath,” Topper chimes in.

“Yeah I bet you do you psychopath. Sounds like the name of a bad horror movie,” Rafe laughs.

“Oooo there’s five of us, we could be the Spice Girls,” Millie beams.

“No.” Topper immediately shuts her down. 

“What about ‘American Boys and Spice Girls.’ You know, like the Kanye West song,” you add.

“Ehh, we’re getting closer, but not quite there,” Rafe teases you and you playfully kick him under the table. “I’m hearing a lot of opinions and not a lot of contributions,” you cross your arms and raise your brows.

“Hey hey hey, I’m a critic, not a chef L/n,” he lifts his hands in surrender.

“Ooo I got it! We can call it the ‘Royal fam,’ like the royal family,” Olivia suggests, finally getting approval from the whole group. Breakfast is soon over and you all return to your rooms, eager to nap away the remainder of your hangovers. You lay in your bed and stare at the newly formed snapchat group on your phone. Royal Fam 🇬🇧🇺🇸 appears on top and you scroll down, looking at Rafe’s username and bitmoji on your screen. You laugh at the fact that even his bitmoji wears a backwards cap. It was weird, having him in your phone like this. You had known this boy your whole life, but you two had always operated in separate spheres. And here he was, in your Snapchat, a glimpse into the life of Rafe, of which you only ever got a birds eye view of back home. It almost felt like you were trespassing somewhere you didn’t belong, having access to him like this. You sigh and lock your phone. Rafe Cameron really isn’t all that bad.

—

The next few days fly by fast as you become acclimated to Westheath. You and the rest of the Kildare kids attend an orientation with Westheath’s exchange advisor, spending the whole time with your little trio: you, Rafe, and Topper. When you had first arrived abroad, you were deadset on forging your own path in London and steering clear of everyone else from OBX. But hanging out with Rafe and Topper made you all but forget. It was fun and easy hanging out with them, in fact, counterintuitively, they were helping you forget all about the Outer Banks, just as you had hoped to do. Your conversations centered around your interests, your new lives, on random jokes and made up bits. It was almost as if there was a mutual unspoken agreement between you, them also trying to escape and forget their lives in OBX.

Pretty soon classes began, and you were learning a new schedule and adapting to British schooling. Your evenings were spent singing and dancing in the kitchen as you, Liv, and Millie simultaneously cooked your dinners, getting pints at the pub around the corner with your Westheath friends, and playing card games at the kitchen table with Rafe and Topper, the smack talk between you three flowing strong. There’d be short moments where you’d find yourself alone with Rafe - he’d explain to you whatever Premier League team was playing that day, you’d show him how the coffee machine works, and the occasional passing comments of “so when are we finally starting Game of Thrones, Cameron?” “I’m ready whenever you are, L/n.”

—

It was a Wednesday night, and you were curled up in your fluffy gray blanket watching Gilmore Girls in bed. You found the show comforting and familiar, the small town of Stars Hallow reminding you of what you wished your life in the Outer Banks could be like. Instead it was more like the cold and pretentious atmosphere of Chilton and the older Gilmores’ Hartford life. Your phone buzzes, and you pick it up lazily to check, suddenly freezing at the notification on your screen.

Snapchat: Rafe Cameron

You had opened a few snapchats from the boy over the past few days, but they were always random ones he would send to the group chat. This one was just for you. You gulp and put your phone down, not wanting to open it too fast. A few minutes go by and you realize you haven’t paid an ounce of attention to the show on your screen, even though you’re staring right at it. Fuck it. You open your phone and tap on the unread snap.

When are we watching Game of Thrones L/n the snapchat says, a picture of his laptop on his bed and the HBO Max home page open, the series featured in the corner of the screen.

You snap back a picture of your blanket and the laptop playing Gilmore Girls in front of you: ready whenever you are Cameron.

Almost immediately you get a response back.

Rafe Cameron: wait are you home rn? His message is accompanied by a random picture of his room, a view you let your eyes linger on until the message expires. Another peak into Rafe Cameron’s world.

Y/n: Yep! You send a blurry selfie of you wrapped in your blanket.

Rafe Cameron: be over in 5

You leave that last message on open and your heart starts to race. Just breathe Y/n, breathe, you keep telling yourself. It doesn’t have to be a big deal if you don’t make it out to be. It’s just a show. Just a show. And besides, you guys are friends now, right? You sit up in your bed and grab your pillow, shifting over to sit horizontally on your mattress. That seems more casual to you, more ‘just a couple friends watching a show together at a comfortable distance’ and less ‘sitting right on top of each other Netflix and chill’. You gulp down some water to ease your dry throat when you hear a gentle knock.

“Come in!” you call out, and now Rafe Cameron is in your room, eyes absorbing all the details that are so you. The posters on one wall, film camera photos on another. The string lights which wrap around your room and give it a warm glow. The plants, the subtle scent of vanilla. The bag you always carried with you, hanging off the side of your chair. He almost felt like he was intruding, like he was getting an intimate glimpse of something that was for your eyes only. 

“Whats up,” he says, holding his laptop and closing the door behind him. 

“Ready to finally start the show,” you laugh, “it’s about damn time.”

“Hey, I’ve been ready, it’s you who’s been taking your sweet time.”

“Is that so?” you ask sarcastically and a smile forms on his face.

“What are you doing over there? Who sits like that on their bed?” he asks, now coming over and taking a seat on your mattress facing vertically, propping your other pillow behind his back. “Can’t even stretch out your legs or anything,” he continues, patting the spot on the bed next to him, signaling for you to come over.

“I don’t know, I think it’s comfy,” you lie as you crawl over to him, your first line of defense already shot down. 

“Weirdo,” he chuckles to which you nudge him in the side with your elbow. “If Topper’s wrong about this I’m gonna give him so much shit,” he says.

“Topper does have a lot of questionable opinions,” you laugh, “but I have a good feeling about this one.

—

One episode turned into two turned into three, you and Rafe instantly hooked. The nerves you had felt earlier at sitting so close next to this boy in your bed had all but dissipated, you quickly acclimating to the space he took up next to you. Even though by now all your previous misconceptions about Rafe had disappeared, replaced with the boy you had come to know over the past week, there was a small part of you that was still waiting to see if he’d try to pull something on you, like the Rafe you imagined back home surely would. Of course he didn’t, watching and discussing the show with you, making you feel as comfortable as if you two had been friends for years. You almost felt bad for having had doubted him in the first place.

When the third episode ended and you two got into a long post-episode discussion, you hardly noticed when the conversation began to digress. You both started to sink lower and lower down into your pillows, until you were both laying on your backs, staring at the ceiling and lost in exchanges of words and thoughts. The conversation was different this time, more candid and open, as if the shadow of the night was inviting you to divulge thoughts you wouldn’t have shared in the day. He spoke of his strained relationship with his father and you shared the silly drama that had caused a riff between you and your former friends back home. He showed you pictures of his dog and you showed him the video you had been working on all summer long in OBX, not having anyone to hang out with before you left for London. He talked about how he felt so disconnected from almost everyone on that island, and you nodded, understanding all too well. The conversation continued to ebb and flow, the occasional funny video or meme pulling you two into fits of laughter before seamlessly delving into another vulnerable train of thought. You both had your Spotify accounts open now, taking turns sharing your favorite songs. You put on a playlist you had made over the summer, full of songs that made you feel at peace. 

“This puts you at ease huh,” he says.

You turn your head to look at him, “how could you tell?”

“I don’t know. I guess just the way your whole body relaxed the second you pressed play,” he replies.

“Yeah,” you say turning your head back toward the ceiling. “I know it sounds cheesy, but I feel like these songs are speaking to my soul or something,” you whisper.

“Yeah I get that… I have those too,” he whispers back. Neither of you realize it’s already 5 am and neither of you notice as your eyes both get heavy and sleep washes over you, playlist in the background like a lullaby. And at some point during your deep sleep, Rafe’s arm has found itself unconsciously wrapped around you.

---

Part 4

a/n: lemme know what you think!(:

[tteokdoroki]

hello! if you’re still doing these could i please request 7 with Bakugou?

if you’re not taking them pls delete !! 💕

katsuki bakugou x gn!reader.

tteokdoroki teaparty event masterpost!!

♡ prompt #7  —  reader has a secret admirer, character of choice doesn’t know how to confess.

♡ genre: everyone, fluff + slight angst.

♡ word count: 1.8K

♡ warnings: cursiing!

♡ author’s notes: thank you for requestiing my lovely !!

yet again, warmth spreads underneath your skin and across your chest at the sight of the chocolates displayed cutely across your desk. for the last week or so, you’d received a flurry of gifts from an unknown admirer— each attached to a sweet note, written with such deep feelings that every time you read one your heart thumped loudly in your chest.  

“let me guess, another one?” mina swoons from your right, joining you in the empty classroom for the day ahead. pink hair tickles at the junction between your head and your shoulder as she reaches for the box of sweets in your grip— you don’t bother putting up a fight, knowing she’d take it from you anyway. “that’s like the third time this week, yn.”

bowing your head shyly, you run your fingers over the small note that lays unfolded on your desk. ‘for you, i’d do anything.’ it reads and you wonder for the umpteenth time; you out of all of classmates is capable of writing such a thing. “i know, i really wish i knew who’s sending them— no ones ever quite done something like this for me before.” you voice is quiet and hopeful, a contrast to the bustling energetic babbles that come from your third year classmates as they filter in for the day ahead. you scan them all to look for a possible source, knowing that your heart could belong to anyone of them.

“it’s gotta be deku!” kaminari cuts through your train of thought like a knife through butter— throwing his arm around your shoulders as he plucks the box of chocolates from mina’s grip, much to her annoyance. “he’s like the sweetest dude in the class, there’s no way it could be anyone else. we’re not capable of cute shit like that.” you roll your eyes and allow your friend to tear open the box for a morning treat but let your gaze slip over to where izuku chats animatedly with ochako. not him.

jirou is next to speak, ripping the box from the blonde to take it to her desk beside yours. kaminari whines as the girl divides up the sweet snacks for, taking one for both herself and mina. chaos is ensuing and yet again, your friends are the centre of it. “nah, my bet’s on sato...how else would yn be getting so many sweet treats every day?”

the group falls silent, mulling over the choice as you finally take a seat and swipe one of the chocolates for yourself. popping it into your mouth, you huff in frustration.

“doesn’t make sense, everything gifted to me so far has been insanely exclusive or expensive...some are even my favourites from abroad and— i don’t speak to sato enough for him to know them...“ you admit, pawing your cheeks with embarrassment.

“maybe it’s kirishima then! you guys are always together and he kinda seems like the romantic type..?” your pink haired friend suggests and the more you think about it, the more it makes sense. it was true, you were both always together— even if it was in the presence of others like bakugou and kaminari— and had more than enough in common, from music tastes to gaming. you could see the hardening hero as someone you’d go for as well, eijirou was an obvious choice. “what do you think, bakugou?”

you peek up from the note ( neatly folded ) and box of chocolates ( now returned ) that sit on your desk, catching the arrival of your final three friends. bakugou, sero and kirishima himself. you feel body flush with warmth as you catch the latter’s ruby eyed gaze and give him a small wave accompanied by a smile; that kirishima quickly returns.  

the blonde however, tsks at mina’s question before making his way to his seat. you considered yourself and katsuki to be good friends; it was usually quiet whenever you too were around one another which was a nice change of pace from his usual rowdy personality— but the majority of your time with each other was spent with him teasing you for your quirk.

“‘m callin’ bullshit. whoever this is should hurry up and face how they feel. the candy shit is stupid.” bakugou growls out, throwing his backpack onto the desk; ready to begin class. in all three years of knowing him, he’d never showed any signs of romantic interest towards anyone in your class, especially you. meaning that your admirer, definitely bakugou.

you turn away from him and your group of friends to face the board, ignoring how they scold him for his harsh words. “right, stupid...” you sigh quietly, just as aizawa enters the room.

ever since your brief conversation with the explosive boy himself, bakugou had been increasingly rude to you throughout the day and it was starting to get on your last nerves. at first, it had been subtle— bumping you in the corridors between classes, pretending he didn’t have an extra pen for you when you knew that he carried spares for your friends who often forgot and then he’d straight up ignored your invitation to study during lunch like you usually did.

you figured that the blonde was having a bad day, bakugou was never usually this harsh to you and you could talk it out with him later. this behaviour was something you hadn’t seen from your friend since first year, and you almost believed that something else had been bothering him— until he almost blew you high into the sky during hero training that afternoon. of course you called him out on it, yelling at him in front of the entire class as your frustrations finally bubbled over but bakugou remained straight faced— leading to your current predicament.

aizawa thought it was best for the two of you to work things out over cleaning duties after school— something you thought you’d been well past seeing as you were third years now. mature, grown up third years who knew how to talk about their problems. apparently, katsuki bakugou was not one of them. even while you rearranged chairs and swept under desks, he still managed to crawl under your skin with petty remarks and hums of disapproval.

it’s only when you realised that katsuki had been actively trying to avoid your gaze or rather, your entire presence— that you snapped, dropping the broom you held in your hands and letting it clatter to the floor beside him, ultimately grabbing his attention.

“are you fucking insane—?”

“what the hell is your problem, bakugou?” you slice right through his words, a quiet rage flooding your bloodstream as you glare down at him. the boy himself looks dumbfounded, having never heard you talk to him in such away, before and stops shelving the books he had been holding. “did i do something to you?”

“like I’d let you do anythin’ to piss me off.”

god, he infuriates you. you step closer to the blonde, who stands at least half a head taller than you and shove at his chest as best you can— needing an outlet for your frustrations. “then why have you been acting like an asshole all day? first you blow me off and then you quite literally blow me up, and now? you’re avoiding me?” your fists curl in his untucked shirt, tugging at it as all of your emotions spill out into the space between you. “i don’t know what i did, but it doesn’t mean you get to treat your friend like shit, katsuki. you’ve been so mean to me today!”

bakugou looks away, avoiding your eyes that cloud with a sadness he can’t bare to face. you tell yourself not to cry, hating the way your bottom lip wobbles at his change in attitude. “’m mean to everyone, there’s nothin’ special about you.” he excuses himself, trying to step away from you.

“but not to me, you know that,” your voice shakes, everything you’d held back finally slipping through opened cracks. why was he treating you this way? what had you done to deserve this? you glance up, trying to find his vermillion eyes and the answers that may lie behind them. “you’ve been acting so...so off, since this morning, when mina asked about my admirer. you called it stupid. is it so hard to believe that someone, that kirishima might even like me?” the grip you had on bakugou’s shirt loosens but you remain leaning against him, neither of you daring to breathe. “why should i even care what you think? you’ve never been one for romance...u-unless you count the manga that you read but i don’t know how that would...”

and then your babbling stops, realisation washing over you in heavy waves. bakugou appears visibly tense before you, fist clenching and unclenching by his aides as you process your own train of thought. he hadn’t been mean to you for the sake of it, he had been because he didn’t know how else to express his feelings of jealously. it wasn’t kirishima that had been sending you notes, no— it had been bakugou all along. “how that would relate to me...” you think out loud, feeling him flinch beneath your grip. “k-katsuki...do you have a crush on me?”

“...don’t...” the blonde warns, heat rushing to his cheeks at your very accusation. a smile comes rushing to your cheeks, the familiar warmth finding its way back into your chest. “don’t look at me like that, fucker. i-i’m not good at this emotion shit, you know that and this was easier than talking— yn, stop fucking lookin’ at me like that.”

the almost whine that slips from between katsuki’s lips makes your tummy fill with affectionate butterflies, causing you to finally let go of his poor shirt and throw your arms around him in a tight hug. bakugou hesitates for a moment, trying to decode the situation and decide for himself if this was real— but you decide to do the talking and tell him foot yourself. “can’t help it, not when i feel the same way about you, katsuki.” you knew that no matter who was behind your little gifts and love notes, your heart would belong to your admirer and your admirer alone. with a rush of adrenaline after feeling katsuki return your embrace, you lean up to press a soft lingering kiss to his chapped lips.

he tastes like honey and smoke, feels warm like a soft summer breeze but as your lips love together and speak a thousand unspoken confessions, the pair of you realise that you never want the moment to end. “i meant what i said in that last note,” bakugou hums softly, pressing his forehead to yours and holding you close as if you’re going to disappear or suddenly realise your feelings for him aren’t true. “i’d do anything for you...”

“anything?” for the second time that day, you swoon at the blonde’s words and peck his nose gently.

he nods once, lost in thought before speaking again. “except for buy you those fucking chocolates again. they’re fucking expensive, cost a shitload.”

you snort at that, leaning up to lock lips him again— who needed chocolate when you could kiss katsuki bakugou instead.

[roanniom]

This made my day seeing your requests open!!

I’d like to please request some hot dominat Clyde action. We all know he’s a softy, but we all also know he’s capable of being a big and scary if he needs to. Thoughts on Clyde protecting you from something and then still being riled up with you after, in all the best ways? :)

Hiya anon! I was happy to write this for you. Fun story, what Clyde does (re: the beer bottle) in this story is actually something a bar tender did when defending me from a creep back in my college bar hopping days lol. I WISH it was Clyde who had done it. I would have loved to thank him. 😉

Out of Trouble

Clyde Logan x Reader

Word Count: 2,730

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex, possessiveness, dirty talk 

You reassess the situation you find yourself in – by no means an unfamiliar one, but definitely out of the norm these days and wholly unpleasant all the same. The man currently harassing you at the bar is clearly not a local. First of all, you don’t recognize the handsy son-of-a-bitch. And secondly, everyone in town knew that you were Clyde’s girl.

You two had only recently made things official, but in a way, hadn’t you always been Clyde’s girl? Your best friendship had always been tinged with a sweetness that surpassed the roles of mere pals. Sure there was flirting, how could you resist with the way a properly timed tease or suggestive comment could make Clyde blush and stammer as if on command? But even more prevalent, and more obvious to the patiently waiting members of the town, was the ownership you both had of one another. People knew better than to hassle either of you, verbally, hypothetically, or otherwise, in the presence of the other. You had Clyde’s back and he had yours, each of you displaying a possessiveness that made others smirk and roll their eyes while hiding their jealousy. You had what they did not, and now that the two of you were finally dating, envy was a common emotion amongst regular Duck Tape patrons.

Something this creep clearly was not privy to it would seem as he reached out to caress your forearm, an action which you flinch to avoid.

“Come on, baby. Let me buy you a fucking drink,” he was saying at this point. He was getting more forceful and though you had previously been courteous in your refusals, you realize that it might be time to fight back. He swayed on his barstool before continuing. “Stop being such a bitch. What could one drink hurt?”

“Every bone in yer fuckin’ body,” comes a low, deep growl that makes both you and the creep look up to the swinging door behind the bar. Your heart swells with relief and other, undefinable emotions as Clyde stalks up, his massive body an intimidating figure as it looms over the other, weasel-y man, threatening even with the bar between them.

“W-what’s your problem?” the creep practically squeaks before clearing his throat and jumping up, trying to draw himself up to his full height, which just comes across as laughable. Of course, next to Clyde, any height would be laughable.

“My problem is yer comin’ onto m’girl. That’s my problem.” His tone is deadly quiet. That’s your Clyde, soft spoken, even as his flesh hand clenches and murder simmers behind his eyes.

“Look, she was sitting here all alone. In my book that makes a bitch fair game - ” the creep begins, but he doesn’t get much farther with his misogynistic diatribe because Clyde reaches over, grabbing a nearby customer’s almost empty beer. Grasping the bottle around the neck, Clyde smashes the bottle down against the edge of the bar. The barrel shatters with a loud crash that silences the din of the room and causes the neck of every patron to whip around for the source of the sound. Clyde stands before the creep brandishing the remaining shards of the beer bottle like a shiv.

“Here’s what yer gonna do,” Clyde says calmly, the violence of his actions not succeeding in raising the volume of his voice. “Yer gonna apologize t’ the lil lady fer troublin’ her, understand?”

The creep stares at Clyde, wide-eyed and panicked before nodding and turning to you hastily.

“I’m sorry! I don’t know what I was thinking, sorry –”

“Good,” Clyde says, cutting the guy off so that he can no longer address you. You eye Clyde as he waves the shattered bottle menacingly. He’s never looked bigger. Never looked darker. Never looked hotter. When he speaks again his voice is even lower, if that’s possible. “Now yer gonna get the fuck outta my bar.”

The creep is gone in a matter of seconds, running out the front door so fast you almost imagine his skeleton being left on the bar stool in his wake like some frightened cartoon character. Before you can look back up at Clyde, his large hand is encircling your wrist and yanking you toward to door to the back of the bar. You let yourself be pulled, barely registering how the conversation kicks back in, customers already basking in the aftermath of Clyde’s rare emotional outburst.

Once the door to Clyde’s office is safely shut behind you, Clyde pushed you to sit down on his couch while he paces back and forth in front of you. You’re bewildered by this response, unsure if you should say something so you remain silent, watching him. After a moment Clyde yanks a hand through his hair forcefully. You swallow and decide to finally speak up.

“Are you okay, Clyde?”

“I’m NOT fuckin’ okay,” Clyde replies and you’re shocked at the way his voice raises with his words. You’re suddenly worried he’s gotten the wrong idea and you’re quick to fold your arms defensively across your chest, your own voice rising.

“Hey, if you’re mad at me you should know it’s not like I encouraged that asshole.”

Clyde is quick to round on you, looking panicked.

“I didn’t say ya did. I know ya wouldn’t…ya’d never…” Clyde trails off into a growl and resumes his pacing, flesh hand clenching and unclenching.

“It’s over, Clyde,” you soothe now, switching tactics and lowering your own defenses. He’s clearly distressed and you’re not sure how to calm him. “He’s not the first and probably won’t be the last guy to bother me.”

“That’s what’s killin’ me, darlin’. What if I hadn’t walked out? What if ya were alone an’ this happened?”

“I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know ya can,” Clyde says, voice more characteristically quiet now but frustration no less palpable as he waves his prosthetic arm distractedly. “I dunno what’s gotten intuh me. I saw him touch ya an’…an’…” Clyde reaches out and swipes across a table, throwing everything to the ground. His chest heaves with his outburst. Yours is rising and falling rapidly now, too, but for you its stemming from the realization that this man. This sweet, beautiful man is losing his cool over his desire to protect you. To defend you. You’re a modern woman. As you’d just told him, you can take care of yourself and you are very proud of that fact. But something about the dark look in his eye and the way his muscles shift tensely beneath his shirt and the way he stomps before you makes you feel like you want to disappear in his arms and never resurface.

“You’re a good man, Clyde,” you say softly. He shakes his head and gives a humorless laugh.

“Not tonight, I’m not, darlin’. Not with these thoughts. I haven’t felt this way since…”

“Overseas?” you ask. He nods, trying to take a deep breath but releasing an even angrier exhale.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. I can’t seem to calm down. I’m just so fuckin’ mad.”

You watch your big bear, usually so gentle, wrestle with his emotions before you. Immediately you have an idea, standing up and moving to him. Using one hand to peel open his fist and interlace your fingers. He grips you too tight but you just bite your lip. Your other hand slides over his bicep and shoulder, kneading into the tense muscles there as you press your face into his chest. His prosthetic arm winds around your waist, pulling you into his body naturally. This does nothing to slow his breathing, which picks up more speed. Feeling you against his body is reminding him of how small you are. How vulnerable. He feels another surge of rage and desperation course through his veins.

“I don’t know why I’m feelin’ this way,” he mumbles but you reach up and grab his face to force him to look at you.

“Feel whatever way you feel,” you reassure him. You lift up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss, but the force with which he responds steals your breath. His arms wind around your body and crush you to him as his tongue ruthlessly explores your mouth, as if searching for solace can only be done in the space where you are most conjoined. The aggression is dizzying and his fingers are bruising on your frame but you love it. Used to light touches, soft caresses, you feel a hunger burn beneath your skin, as if your every muscle is rejoicing at the deeper pressure, the deeper friction.

When Clyde finally pulls away you are winded and dazed, now breathing just as heavily. His eyes look no less wild but now there is a tinge of concern.

“M’sorry, darlin’. We should stop, ‘m too worked up. Can’t be sweet to ya the way ya like.” His words are husky and rushed but you’re just as rushed to shush him. You’re already working at his belt and pulling him back to the couch.

“I like you in whatever way you’ll have me, baby,” you mumbled against his flesh, kissing down his throat as you pull him down to the cushions. “Take it out on me.”

“What if I’m too rough with ya?” Clyde asks, but his hands are already ripping your shirt over your head and his mouth latches onto your throat, your collar bone, your breast through your bra.

“I want you to be rough with me, Clyde. I’ve wanted you to be rough with me since the moment you walked out and gave that asshole what-for.” You’re pressed down, back against the couch now, with your legs tight around the wide barrel of Clyde’s body.

“Did ya like that, darlin’? Yer Big Bear defending ya?” He’s no longer hesitant in his movements and no longer trying to stop himself. Instead he takes a handful of your ass, pulling your pelvis up off the couch so that your clothed pussy presses fully into his erect and waiting cock. You moan, both at the sensation and at him calling himself Big Bear for the first time. You’d only been dating for a few weeks and things were still new, including shyness around pet names. You’d called him Big Bear the night before in the teasing lead up to some love making and he’d only flushed and stammered in response, busying himself by burying his face between your thighs.

But right now he’s gazing down at your face with an air of intensity and you feel saliva pool in your mouth and wet slick your quivering heat.

“I liked my Big Bear defending me. So strong and big.” You say the last word as you close your hand around his enormous cock through his unzipped jeans. Clyde bucks into your hand and hums from where he’s suckling at the underside of one of your breasts, curved down into you despite your differences in height.

“Nobody else can have ya,” he grumbles before hoisting you higher on the couch so he can position his cock at your entrance. You gasp at the feeling of his member sliding between your folds, getting covered in your waiting slick.

“Nobody. Only you, Big Bear.” Before you can say anything else Clyde has speared into you in one swift motion and taken up an unforgiving pace. There was the aggression he’d been worried about and boy was it rough. You cling to him for dear life as he fucks you into the couch cushions. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your jaw goes slack.

It hurts – he’s much too big to be going this hard this fast – but his grip on you is so tight it melts your aching muscles. The desperation of his thrusts make you hiccup through your inhales and you feel surrounded. Crushed. Filled. All in the best way possible. You love the darling Clyde who coaxes your orgasms with caresses and honeyed words and languid strokes. But this Clyde – this is your Big Bear. His eyes drink in your bouncing breasts as he’s not able to clutch them with the way he has to support his own weight with his good arm. Your back arches deeper from the effects of a particularly deep thrust, bringing your chest up to press against his and he groans.

“This body. No wonder people’re comin’ on to ya, darlin’. This body’s too perfect,” he practically growls, burying his face into your throat. “Maybe I should just keep ya here on my cock. Stay inside ya. Keep me warm and keep ya outta trouble.”

You moan loudly as his dirty words are accentuated by a change in angle that lets him pound into a particularly sweet spot. Your walls pulse around him.

“Oh god. Oh Clyde.���

“Back to callin’ me Clyde already? Am I not bein’ rough enough for ya?” Clyde asks, biting down into the sensitive flesh of your throat. You cry out, hips gyrating against him, legs and walls clamping down around him with an unconscious need to keep him buried deep inside you.

“F-fuck, oh fuck me, Big Bear. I can take it!” you practically whine.

“Yes ya can. So good, takin’ yer Big Bear.” His trusts begin to bottom out harsher, faster. The pressure and the speed have pulled your muscles as taut as they can go and you know you’re seconds from snapping. It was all so sudden. You’re both so worked up, not only from the experience out in the bar, but from the headiness of being this way with one another for the first time. He may be the one pounding into you, but you’re giving as good as you’re getting, rolling your hips up to meet each thrust. Pulling him down into you and raking your fingernails up and down his back.

It’s desperate and needy and possessive – equally so. He is yours and you are his and ownership never tasted so sweet.

Just as you’re about the cum, Clyde seems to sense it and shoves your legs up by the back of the knee, ensuring his next few thrusts rub up against the spot inside you that makes your eyes cross and makes your moans turn into desperate whimpers. You have the vague thought that this proves how well Clyde has come to know your body, what a great student he is of your orgasm, just as said orgasm crashes over you.

You know for sure that the Duck Tape customers heard you. Your belief in your audience becomes even stronger when Clyde lets out a delicious moan as he cums, too, painting your insides with spend made just for you. You’re sweaty and it’s only 7 pm on a Tuesday. Clyde’s going to have to go back to tending bar and you’re going to have to slink out, so clearly ravaged and thoroughly fucked to the likely amusement of a roomful of people who’d been rooting for your coupling. You chuckle to yourself, as Clyde drops the weight of his whole body on you, crushing you. Those people outside definitely got a chance just now to hear your coupling firsthand.

“That…was amazing.” It comes out breathless, as though you’ve just run a marathon. And because you have the mass of a large man pressing you into the couch. When Clyde finally lifts his head from its resting place at your neck he looks sheepish and embarrassed and pleased and winded.

“’M sorry if I was too much for ya, darlin’. Once ya started touchin’ me I couldn’t think straight.”

You silence him with a kiss, grabbing his face to make it deep. When you pull away your smile is ear to ear.

“If you make me feel like that, baby, there’s absolutely nothing to apologize for.”

Clyde moves to pull out of you, his cum now seeping out around his softening cock, but you tighten your legs around him suddenly.

“What happened to staying inside me, mister?” you tease.

Clyde stands abruptly, pulling you up with him still seated in your dripping cunt. Your gasp and scramble to hold onto him. He takes a few playful steps towards the door and you swat at him.

“No, I think yer right, darlin’. What better way tuh make cocktails than with my lil cockwarmer?”

~*~

Tagging some lovely friends (please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged in the future!): @noocturnalchild @thedivinemissn @insufferablelust @historyandfandoms50 @lostinthedrive @thewilddingleberries @edencherries @mariesackler @safarigirlsp @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @paper-n-ashes @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @thegreenmatt @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo @morby @emeraldsiren20 @maryforyou @aloneandsleepless @jynzandtonic @renmaulxo @millenialcatlady @leather-flannel-liquor @soggywhore

[queenxxxsupreme]

To Be Alone With You

A/N: Funny story. Remember how I said a couple days ago I wasn’t comfortable with smut for real people? Yeeeaaahh that changed. My hand slipped and I ended up writing cockwarming Henry smut based on a conversation with @thatfluffybabyduck This was entirely her idea! Love you babe<3

Warnings: smut, NSFW 18+, soft smut and fluff, cockwarming

You moved into the living room, finding Henry sitting on the sofa. Kal was laying next to him, enjoying the belly rubs as Henry absentmindedly scrolled through his phone.

“Hey, bear?” You leaned against the doorway of the living room.

“Yes, love?” He didn’t look up from his phone, which made you frown a little. 

“Can we…. Do you think we could try something?” You asked quietly. 

Ocean blue eyes flickered up to meet yours, curious.

“What do you want to try?”

You looked down, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. You looked down at your fingers. 

“There’s this thing called cockwarming…. I think it sounds like something I’d like. We’d like. I was thinking maybe we could try it later on tonight, if you’d like to.”

He watched you for a few moments, leaning back against the sofa and put his phone down beside him. 

“Where did you hear about this love?”

“A couple of my friends were talking about it the other day. I think the idea of it is.... It’s cute. You don’t have to do it and it be sexual or anything. It’s just…. It could be a way for us to be closer.”

It was easy to see how nervous you were. You kept biting your lip any chance you got and you messed with your fingers, picking at your nails. He smiled softly at you. 

“How do we do it?” He knew what cockwarming was, but watching you shyly try to explain it to him was endearing 

“Well…. I-I sit on your…. on your lap.”

“Do you want to do this now?” He asked you.

“No.” You shook your head, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “But maybe…. Maybe we could do it later?” You messed with the hem of your shirt and rubbed your thighs together at the thought. “Does that sound okay to you?”

“Later sounds perfect.” He nodded his head, a little grin playing on his lips. 

A few hours passed and you nearly forgot about what you’d agreed to. You were busy finishing up the last bits of laundry in the laundry room when you heard him call for you. 

“Y/N? Darling, can you come here a second?”

A few minutes later, you appeared in the doorway of his ‘office.’ He turned his chair to you and patted the top of his thigh. 

“Do you want to try now?”

Your cheeks flushed and your heart skipped a beat. 

You nodded eagerly and moved further into the room. You were now dressed in your pajamas- which only consisted of one of Henry’s shirts and a pair of underwear. You shimmied out of the underwear and watched him pull his semi hard cock out from his shorts. 

You bit your lip at the sight, eager to feel him inside of you. You rubbed your thighs together again and this time, Henry commented on it.

“Are you eager, darling?”

“Just…. Just excited.” You smiled at him, nodding a little. 

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

He took your hand to offer you balance and stability as you climbed into his lap. It was a little awkward getting into the right position, but you settled with facing him. 

As you sunk down on his thick member, your lips parted and your eyes fluttered shut. The way he stretched you caused a pleasant ache to stir between your hips. 

“Is this okay?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, leaning your head forward as you seat yourself completely on him, letting his cock split you open. 

Your legs were carefully tucked around his sides and his arms are wrapped around your back so that while he holds you, he can also play his PC. You slip your arms underneath his armpits, hands grabbing fistfuls of his blue tank top. 

You swear under your breath. You were trembling already, shifting just a little until you found the right position. He grunted at the movement, then kissed the side of your head. 

You closed your eyes as you leaned your head forward to rest on his collarbone. You focused on his breathing and what he said to the people he was playing the game with. Every now and then, he’d tense up and jolt when something happened in the game he didn’t want to happen. You’d whimper and whine in response to his movement. He’d rub your back and kiss the top of your head to comfort you. 

“Such a good girl for me.” He murmured quiet enough so that his gamer friends couldn’t hear him. Your arms tightened around him and you tried to bury your nose even further into the crook of his neck.

After a few minutes, he took his headset off and rubbed your back, looking down at you. 

“Tell me if it’s too much, darling.”

“No, no, no.” You babbled, lifting your head from the warmth of his neck. You shook your head and gazed up at him. “It’s-It’s perfect, bear. You feel so perfect.” 

He smiled softly, happy and content that you are enjoying this. He pressed a tender kiss to your lips before going back to his game. 

It amazed him how turned on you were by being this close to him, how desperate you were to feel him and only him. He could feel every flutter of your walls and the way you squeezed him as if your life depended on it. 

You weren’t too sure how long you’d been sitting there at this point, but the fire in your loins was growing. The intensity of the passion, the intimacy, the unadulterated love you felt was almost becoming too much. 

You lifted your head to kiss his collarbone and his neck. 

As you exhaled shakily, your warm breath fanned over his neck, making goosebumps spread out across his skin. 

Then he heard you sniffle. Worried that something was wrong, Henry disconnected his headset and looked down at you, rubbing your back with his large hands. 

“Y/N? Is everything alright?”

“M’okay, Henry.”

“Why are you crying then, darling? Are you hurting?” He hooked two fingers beneath your chin and tilted your head up. 

“No, no. Feels so good, bear.” You shook your head, leaning forward to kiss the corner of his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you more, darling.” He cupped your jaw with one large hand, swiping the tears away with the pad of his thumb. “But darling, please don’t cry.”

“I just-I love you, bear.” You hiccuped, burying your face once more in the safety of his neck. You kissed along the column of his throat, enjoying the burn of his scruff against your lips. 

He returned to his game and you went back to counting his breaths. 

You whimpered when he accidentally jumped, cursing at the game, and pushed further into you, the head of his cock bumping your cervix. 

“Bear?”

“Yes, darling?” He looked down at you the best he could. 

“Take me to bed, please.”

“Give me just a moment, darling.” 

He ended the game with his friends and put his headset down, then easily lifted you up. He made sure to keep himself buried in you, holding you close to him like you were his lifeline. 

Your legs wrapped around his waist and kept your arms securely wrapped around his neck. 

He carried you back into the bedroom, holding you with one arm so he could pull the blankets back. As he placed you down in the bed, his cock slipped from your heat. You whimpered and whined, fingers still grasping at his blue top. The emptiness ached and made you feel incomplete. 

He pulled off his tank top and his shorts then slipped into bed next to you. 

“I’m right here, sweet girl.” He murmured, kissing your cheek and then your lips. 

You scooted closer to him, desperate to have him inside you again. 

His arms engulfed you in a hug, holding you against his chest so he could kiss you. 

“Need you, bear.” Your words were muffled against his lips but he understood you. 

One of his hands left your side to find the back of your knee. From there, he pulled your leg up over his hip and eased his girth into you. 

Your lips fell open in a breathy moan. Henry kissed you, swallowing your moans as he slowly pulled back out of you. He moved his head to bury his nose in your hair. You pushed yourself further into his chest, mewling as he sunk into you.

“You’re so good for me, darling.” He whispered, one large hand rubbing your back. “So warm and tight around my cock.”

Your moans were more whiny and breathy. The overwhelming emotion you felt from just having him buried in you had every nerve ending in your body igniting with electricity. Now, adding the pleasure from him fucking into you with no rush to end things was almost enough to drive you over the edge.

The tears in your eyes trailed down your cheeks. You’d never felt more needed, more loved, more cherished, than you did in that moment in Henry’s arms. 

He kissed the tears away, rocking into you steadily. 

“Please, Henry. Please, please.” You whimpered, meeting his gaze. “Please.”

“I love you, my sweet girl.” He moved so that now he was resting on his knees between your legs. Your ankles locked at the small of his back, desperate to get him to stay. He took one of your hands and held it by your head while he used the other one to hold himself up. 

“Come on, sweet girl. Come with me.” He grunted, his thrusts becoming a little more sporadic. Neither of you were going to last long. The stimulation had been too much. Everything was hot and snug and tight and earth shattering. 

You tightened your grip on his fingers, bringing your other hand up to cup his face. His eyes met yours, holding your gaze until you came, eyes squeezing shut tightly and back arching off of the bed. He dipped his head down to kiss your neck, grunting as he pushed into you one final time, spilling into you. 

His hand released yours, so you took the opportunity to wrap your arms around him once more. 

He hissed as you squeezed him, but he didn’t pull out just yet. He couldn’t. Your arms were holding him too tight. He let you stay like that for a few minutes until he decided you needed to get some sleep. 

“Come on, darling.”

“Not yet, bear.” You sniffled. “Wanna stay close to you.”

“But we have to get you cleaned up, love.”

“No. I just- I wanna hold you.”

“You can hold me after a bath. How does that sound?”

You paused for a moment, your grip on him loosening. 

“Can I wash your hair?”

“Yes you can, my love.

You finally released him, and he carefully pulled out of you. You whined, eyes closing tightly at the loss of contact. 

He placed a kiss on your forehead and then left the bed to go start a bath. 

When he returned, you were laying on your side. He took a few moments to take you in. You were laying in his bed, one hand fisting the sheets while the other was under your head. Your thighs trembled still. 

When you noticed he was standing there, you turned over and smiled at him. He moved to your side of the bed and you made grabby hands at him. A smile grew on his lips and a chuckle vibrated in his chest. 

“So needy.” He teased softly. His strong arms slipped beneath your torso and knees and he lifted you from the bed. “

“Just need you, bear.”

[shorkbrian]

Mirrors

Prelude - Haha Hi I've never done anything quite like this or this long (like 5k bich) but I am THORSTy and I’ve been sitting on these asks for so long I’m so sorry. ALSO to the ppl sending me the sweet gentle asks about my blog guess what??? I would D I E for you legit I read one of them this morning I almost teared up. I haven’t cried (Except for like (TW) s*ui*ide cry lol those don’t count) since like??? last year?? no joke. 

ANYWHO idk how to write a praise kink so I went with like, insecurity? but then Kiribaku likes makes the reader just melt cause they keep praising her and they bring it out during nasty times and she's GONE yeeted off the earth it makes her so hot and wet lol.

Pairing - Kiribaku X Reader

Prompt - 

Warnings - NSFW!!!! Dirty talk, my best effort at a praise kink, mirror stuff, ummmm mentions of kidnapping. DUB-CON big time, maybe technically even noncon cause reader DOES NOT want it but has just. resigned herself to being a plaything.

Music - https://youtu.be/STO4-8vkG0U 

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

“What the fuck did you just say?”

You couldn’t meet Bakugou’s eyes. HIs gaze was so intense, eyes so passionate and fierce. You were so embarrassed, aware of Kirishima’s gaze fixed on your form from where he was seated in the armchair.  

“I-I…….. don’t like it…. when you talk like that….”

“Fuckin’ what?” Bakugou barked, his brows knitting in confusion.  

“What do you mean, baby?” Kiri stood, moving to sit next to Bakugou on the couch so he could see your face.

You wiggled around uncomfortably in your spot on the floor,  where you were kneeling between Bakugou’s feet.  Kirishima had made some comment, something about how pretty you looked being so sweet for Bakugou. You were literally just sitting there, but Kiri thought you worthy of praise

“It’s not true…… I’m not-my body doesn’t look nice and I just….. every time you guys say stuff about me, all I can think of is how bad I look.”  It was hard to choke out the words, your face flushing red as your eyes filled with tears. You were so embarrassed, having to explain your insecurities to your kidnappers. It was bad enough that they dressed you up in slinky outfits, booty shorts and thin shirts that were almost see-through. You hated it, hated the way it made you feel, hated the way it made you look. It was humiliating.

“Well that’s a bunch of bullshit. I don’t go around saying shit unless it’s true.” Bakugou glared down at you. He seemed angry that you would even have that view of yourself, the foot resting on the floor by your hip beginning to tap in agitation. 

Kirishima scooted closer so he could reach you, his hand coming up to stroke your hair. “We mean what we say. You’re beautiful, such a good, obedient little girl for us.”

“No, no - please don’t say that kind of stuff!”  You were getting worked up now, tears falling freely as you hugged your arms around your body. Kirishima shared a look with Bakugou, the two men quickly deciding to drop the conversation and move on to something else.

“Tch, whatever. C’mere”  Bakugou patted his leg, prompting you to shuffle out of your kneeling position and onto his lap. You would rather not, but you knew what resistance would result in, and you’d prefer not having to nurse a sore bottom and mild burns for the next few days. Bakugou wrapped an arm loosely around your waist, tugging you closer to him on his lap. Kiri still petted your hair, pressed up against the blond man’s side as he smiled at you.

“It’s fine baby, calm down. Maybe one day you’ll see what we see.” Without leaving any room for you to argue, Kirishima planted a quick smooch on your forehead before rising from the couch. “Do you two have any preferences for dinner? I was thinking we could order something from that yakisoba place, remember Bakugou? The one Mina recommended.”

“Yeah, go for it. They have any spicy shit?”

Tuning them out, you swiped at your tears, trying to reel yourself back into a steady emotional state. You feel so weak these days, both physically and emotionally. Being held captive by the two men had worn you down, made you prone to teary outbursts. You held no control - your daily routine dictated by the men from the first day they had snatched you from your home. You were reluctant to obey, had even fought them at first, but you quickly realized it was easier (and less painful) to just do what they wanted.  

Fighting was useless.

——

Weeks had passed since your little outburst. Unfortunately, Bakugou and Kirishima weren’t willing to give up praising you every chance they got.  You had an inkling suspicion that they had upped the amount of comments they made about you ever since that day, enjoying watching you squirm and your face go bright red. It made you blush, yes. Made your heart beat a little faster, made you flounder for words if you were in the middle of speaking. But you just felt….. shame when they praised you. 

They lauded you for your obedience, how compliant you were for them. Kiri would ask you to sit down and wait at the table while he answered the door (“don’t make a sound baby.”), and you did. Bakugou would have you sit in his lap while playing video games, and you tried you’re best not to squirm. It made you almost feel sick inside, how quickly you had adjusted to being their “good girl”. You just wanted to please, didn’t want them angry at you.

What really made you blush was when they would strip you down, bend you over the nearest surface. They’d be fucking into you, fondling your body while whispering compliments in-between kisses. You never felt “beautiful” nor “delicious”, no matter how many times they told you otherwise. It was especially humiliating when one of them would take you on the bed, the other watching. You always wanted to hide, shield away your body from their prying eyes, but they never let you.

You just didn’t get it, didn’t understand what they saw when they looked at you. Staring into the bathroom mirror, all you saw were your imperfections, your insecurities.  It was shameful, pathetic. You felt entirely unworthy of the attention and love you were being showered with.

——

The boys had seemed more… energetic today, Kirishima almost seeming to bounce with each step, Bakugou smiling gently at you. It made you nervous. It made you even more nervous when Bakugou took his leave, giving both you and Kirishima a quick peck on the lips before going out the door. It was a weekend, and you knew that both men didn’t have work today. You tried asking Kirishima where Bakugou was going, but all you got out of him was a laugh and “Don’t worry about it! He’s gonna do a little bit of shopping.”

Well, at least that eased your mind a tiny bit.

You didn’t have much time to dwell on it though, Kirishima herding you into the basement.  It was the their home gym, filled with weights and machines that kept the two men strong and fit, and you weren’t usually allowed down there. If you were, it was because both of the men were present, and they could watch you while they worked out (you knew that they liked showing off for you, even if they didn’t admit it.).

But today Kiri wasn’t going down there to work out. Once the two of you made it down the steps, Kiri was pulling an exercise bench over, instructing you to lay down on it, belly up.  You did what he said.

“‘Kay, I’m gonna go upstairs to get some stuff. I want your shorts off by the time I get back, alright baby?”

You nodded.

Sighing, you shimmied your shorts down as he left. You never had to worry about underwear - they never let you wear it unless you were on your period. You knew vaguely what direction this was going in, and had already resigned yourself to getting fucked silly by the redhead. It was practically useless trying to resist.

When he came back, you were surprised. He had rope and…… a Hitachi. That was new. In the short time you’d been living with them, you had gotten used to their habits when they fucked you. Neither man was too interested in toys,  preferring to stimulate you manually, so this was an unwelcome surprise.

“Mmhm, you look so sexy baby.” Kiri kneeled down next to you, before peeling apart your thighs. He grinned at you, shark teeth flashing, before snatching up the Hitachi wand, pressing it directly against your pussy. You didn’t like where this is going. 

He didn’t turn it on, instead reaching for the rope that he had brought down. The redhead began wrapping it around your thighs, lifting your legs to encircle them with the rope. It took a few minutes, which were tense, silent as you watched him work.  He made sure to also circle the rope around your hands and torso, anchoring your arms by your side. When Kiri was finished, you were trapped, unable to move your legs, to even simply part them an inch. The Hitachi wand was still directly on your pussy, snug and unmoving. It rubbed against your clit, making you bite your lip at the delicious friction.  Kirishima gave you a flashy smile, turning to ruffle your hair. Distantly you noticed he didn’t have a shirt on.

“Alright babe, we’re gonna have some fun while we wait for Katsuki. You know what this is?” He tapped the wand nestled between your legs.

“It’s…. It’s a vibrator.” You managed, throat suddenly dry.

Kirishima seemed to beam even brighter. “Yeah! I’m gonna turn it on, let you have your fun. But you gotta tell me before you cum, okay? Think you can do that?”

A quick nod from you and the vibrator buzzed to life between your legs, Kirishima not in the mood to dawdle. Your back arched off the bench at the sensation, the pleasure quick and intense. Kirishima stayed kneeling beside you, watching you writhe as he changed the speed of the wand. 

It didn’t take long for you to cry out, “Kirishima, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!”, a thin sheen of sweat covering your body. It made your shirt stick to your chest, accentuate the heaving of your breasts as panted. Right before you orgasmed though, Kiri flipped the off switch, the vibrations cutting off and leaving you hanging. Your eyes shot open, confusion furrowing you’re brow.

“Wha-Kiri? What?”

The redhead smirked, pressing a hand to your tummy to prevent you from moving against the wand, desperate for more stimulation, desperate to orgasm.

“Not yet baby, not yet.”

He patted your stomach soothingly as you stared up at him in confusion. You had been so close! Why have you tell him when you’re going to cum, only to rip that away from you??

A minute passed, then two, Kirishima still rubbing his big hand across your tummy. It was meant to be soothing, a soft gesture, but it only heated your skin, made pleasure thrum in your veins. When you had sufficiently calmed down, chest no longer heaving, Kiri reached down and flicked the wand back on, chuckling at the way you desperately ground against the rounded head of the toy.

“Mm, desperate little baby, aren’t you?” He was kissing your neck, letting his tongue slip out to lick at the skin there.  It set you on fire. Reaching the high of orgasm came even quicker this time, spurred on by your movements and determination to cum. If you didn’t tell Kirishima when you were about to, he wouldn’t be able to stop you. So you stayed silent, circling your hips as best you could, leaning into the hot kisses being pressed to your throat.

All of a sudden, the vibrator clicked off, Kirishima’s hand on your tummy once again.

“Thought you could get away with that one? You’re so cute.”

You felt like screaming, yelling out your frustration. He knew your body too well, could feel the hitch in your breath as you prepared to orgasm, felt your fingers tighten, clenching around nothing. He had stopped the vibrator right as you were beginning to feel it, the wave of pleasure. It was frustrating.

You could hardly believe you were thinking this, but you couldn’t wait for Bakugou to get back.

——

It was torture, having your orgasm slip away from you time after time. Kirishima was having fun, groping your chest, leaving sloppy kisses along your neck and collarbone. He liked seeing you struggle, almost at the point of begging and pleading with him in your need to cum.

He had been edging you for a while now, you didn’t even know how many orgasms he had yanked you away from. Kiri had just stopped you once more, turning the vibrator off and holding you still /right/ as you felt yourself letting go. You wanted to scream, on the verge of tears. But then Kirishima was glancing at his phone, stuffing it in his pocket before standing so he could untie you from the bench.

“Bakugou’s back, we’re gonna go see what he brought home for us!”

You could barely think straight, wincing when Kiri removed the vibrator pressing up against your pussy. You were drenched, pussy wet and red and puffy, your own slick covering your thighs. Kirishima helped you to your feet, guiding you into your shorts. You were too out of it to do much, simply letting the man guide and push and lift your body as he pleased. When he pressed up against you to pull your shorts snug over your hips, you felt his bulge through his shorts, poking you in the stomach.  You suppose he’d been waiting for relief too, just the same as you.

Kirishima helped you totter up the basement stairs, then guided you towards the bedroom, hand on your waist. You stumbled through the door, eyes immediately focusing on the giant mirror leaned up against the wall. How had Bakugou even gotten it through the door?  

“Damn Kiri, you’re really worked up.”

Bakugou was sitting on the bed, unlacing his shoes. Kirishima chuckled, hand leaving your waist so he could go sit beside the blonde.

“Me and her both man. Had to hold myself back, she was making such raunchy sounds.”

Their attention turned to you, both men smirking as they eyed you, Kirishima still with a prominent tent in his shorts.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ bet.”  Bakugou smirked. 

Kirishima stood, stepping languidly around you until he was at your back, broad chest pressing up against you.

“I mean, look at this -“ a hand cupped your mound, making you jump. You were still sensitive from being denied so many times, even the slightest touch had you twitching. “ - she’s fucking dripping.”

It was true, the crotch of your shorts soaked with your juices. Kiri rubbed his index finger against the seam, pressing it up and against your clit. You shuddered, hand flying up at grasp onto his arm. It felt so good, you hated his touch, didn’t want his hands on you, but oh, your body liked it.

Kirishima pushed you forward, fingers still teasing you through your wet shorts.  You gasped when you were pushed face first into the bed, bent at the waist.  A hot, blunt hardness rubbed up against you, Kiri’s hand still cupping your mound.

“You’re being such a good little bitch, letting us do whatever the fuck we want to your stupid little cunt.” 

You lifted your eyes, saw Bakugou smirking down at you as you were rocked gently by the force of Kiri’s humping. The blond was palming himself over his jeans, but your attention was quickly shifted when you felt your shorts getting ripped down, off your body.

“Step out.” You obeyed. Kirishima was hungry, lustful - voice deeper and serious now - no trace of his signature lightheartedness. He always got like this this when he was excited.  Your head was wrenched to the side, cheek mashed against the bedspread, large hand pressing and holding you in place. Belatedly, you recognized you were facing the mirror leaned against the wall, could see Kirishima’s bulk behind you, his shorts already pulled down to reveal his hard cock. If you hadn’t taken it before, you would be scared. He was thick, blunt and girthy - not to mention a considerable length. The tip was flushed red, almost purple, shiny with leaked precum and almost swollen. 

“Look at yourself in the mirror baby, you see that? How nice you look, all obedient and ready to take my cock? Such a good, sweet little girl.”

You looked so tiny compared to the redhead, the man having to bend his knees slightly to rub the head of his cock against your pussy. You tried not to moan when he focused it on your clit, rubbing it rapidly over the nub.  “Kiri - please……Aah! Let me - lemme cum..” You whined.

“God, you’re so perfect, you know that?” He breathed out a laugh, still rubbing the head of his blunt cock over your clit, hand still forcing your head to the side, making you watch his movements. You almost wanted to cry - being teased and denied for so long. You just wanted to cum, wanted to get this over quickly so you could go shower. 

Normally seeing yourself in a mirror was something you’d try to avoid, not favoring the way you looked. But now, you were mesmerized, watching through the reflection the way Kirishima’s red cock pulsed as he finally, finally slipped it into your opening. You choked on a moan as he slowly stretched you out, feeding inch after inch of his wide cock into you. In the mirror, you saw him tip his head back, groaning low in his throat when he finally bottomed out, fat balls pressed flush against you.

 “Fuck, oh god, feels so good. You’re so good, can feel your pretty little pussy trying to milk me.” He leaned down, warm chest plastered across your back as he whispered in your ear. 

“You really want this, don’t you? Such a gorgeous baby, so sexy and hot and  perfect.”

The man didn’t start out slowly, he never did. He was aggressive, unrelenting as he thrust his fat cock into you over and over. Your legs were shaking, the pleasure making you weak-kneed, your tongue lolling out of your open mouth, unable to quiet your moans. Kirishima’s pace was frenzied, excited, animalistic as he chased his own pleasure, the sound of his skin slapping against your own filling the room. It was incredible.

His dick hit all the right spots, pressing you closer and closer to your orgasm. If he didn’t let you cum this time you were going to cry.  Your could hear the lecherous, sinful sounds of your pussy squelching, milky juices getting everywhere. It coated his dick, was covering your thighs. You could feel drops of wetness being flicked everywhere on every thrust, the wet, fast slaps of his thighs against you making your stomach clench even harder.  The hand in your hair pulled up slightly, wrenching your head back in order for Kiri to give your a quick, desperate kiss - full of teeth and spit. He had hardly detached from your lips before he was mouthing at your back, spitting out filth as he did so.

“Shit, I love you so much. Wish I could be inside you all time - see how easily your body takes me? You were made for this, such a filthy little baby. Always look so tempting, always wanna fuck you, fill you up, make you squirt.” 

His words were getting to you, as you were forced to watch him pounding into you, hips snapping and tensing in an animalistic fashion. It was too much - the pleasure, his crude words, the visual of seeing yourself getting fucked, worshipped. Your eyes closed, clenching shut as you moaned over a particularly satisfying thrust. Kiri didn’t like that. The hand not holding your head against the bed slipped underneath you, immediately finding your clit, pinching at it viciously.

“Open your eyes, keep watching or else I stop.”

You wailed, eyes flying open. Kirishima was smiling, still kissing sloppily at your back as he began playing with your clit.

“You always look so tasty, can’t tell you - Fuck! - how many times I think about fucking your brains out during the day - shit, you’re so good for me.”

HIs hips stuttered as he rammed forward, signaling he was close. He wasn’t the only one - your hands clawing at the bedspread, your hips moving and twitching as you tried to grind yourself against his hand, his cock slamming into you.  His big hand rubbed you just right, and it sent a pang of sizzling pleasure trough your body.  A broken cry left you as you finally orgasmed, hot, shaking, senseless. Thank god.

The wild twitching of your pussy as you rode out your high triggered Kirishima’s own orgasm, the man burying his face between your shoulder blades as his own hips twitched wildly, humping his cock into you as he released his seed.  He was cursing, saying something, but it was muffled by the skin he caught between his teeth, making you squeal as you felt hot cum shoot into you. It took a minute for the man to slow down, thrusting through his orgasm and into the aftershocks, milking and prolonging both of your pleasure. It felt so good, so right. You were so high from the endorphins that you couldn’t even think to remember how wrong this was, how you didn’t want any of it.

Pulling out, Kirishima watched his cum begin dripping out of your cunt, pushing himself away from your back as he stood, chest heaving, body glistening with sweat. You were barely able to keep yourself up, still bent over the bed, legs wobbly and arms jelly. A separate set of hands pulled you to the side, and you let yourself be manhandled, pulled and situated in Bakugou’s lap, his chest to your back.

You had forgotten about Bakugou.

His jeans were off, along with his boxers. His shirt was gone too, thrown somewhere on the floor. The blond ripped at the shirt still plastered to your chest, the fabric giving in easily to his strength. You couldn’t bring yourself to care as it shredded right through the middle, freeing your tits. It’s not like it hid anything anyways.

“Jesus, that was so fuckin’ hot, watching Kiri pound into you like that. Look at yourself, leaking everywhere like a damn hose. You like having Kiri’s cum sliding out of your soggy little cunt?” 

His chin hooked over your shoulder and he directed your gaze forward. 

There was another mirror.

It was leaned up against the far wall, allowing you a perfect view of your sweaty, debauched body as Bakugou spread you legs, hooking your knees over his own so he could force your thighs even further apart. Oh god.

He was hard as a rock, moving your body around on his lap so his dick pressed up against the outside of your pussy, cum still escaping from your hole. You were exhausted, body limp and pliant - you didn’t know if you could go another round.

Bakugou didn’t care.

A harsh slap had you crying out, a sharp “Ah!”  Filling the room. Bakugou slapped your slit again, and you tried to curl in on yourself, protect yourself from the abuse on your sensitive pussy. The blond slithered a hand around your chest, reaching up to grip your throat lightly.

“Stop that. Fucking look at this shit. See how sloppy your pussy is? Everytime I do this - “ He delivered another quick slap, and you writhed on his lap, which caused you to push against the hard cock nestled between your thighs. “ - You let more cream out.”

Without saying anything more, Bakugou shoved the hand not around your throat under your thigh, lifting you up just enough so he could slip his dick into you. HIs cock was less girth than Kirishima’s - it was  about the same length but a more manageable size. He had been jacking off while watching Kiri fuck you, so his length was already coated in a layer of his spit and precum. That, combined with the cum already drenching your insides,  meant he met virtually no resistance as he thrust up slowly.

You writhed, the hand at your throat and at your thigh keeping you steady in his lap. Kirishima was on the floor, leaning his back against the bed as he watched the two of you in the mirror, still panting and calming down from his intense orgasm. 

There wasn’t any time to adjust, to ask Bakugou to wait, you’re too sensitive to go again! He was more relaxed than Kirishima, more controlled and languid in his thrusting. He rolled his hips, bouncing you gently in his lap as he forced you to keep your head straight, despite your efforts to turn away from the mirror showing your own reflection. You looked absolutely filthy - face flushed, tits bouncing, Bakugou’s hard cock drilling into you. You couldn’t help but moan, the sight stirring up something, some heated feeling inside your tummy.You liked watching them fuck you.

“Goddamn, every single time feels so fucking good. Shit, shit shit shit - it’s like you were made for us!”

He sounded so gleeful, so truthful. You unconsciously clenched around his length, feeling tingly as his thrusts ground deep, hit every single spot that made a sweet zing of  bliss race through your body.

“Ah, ah fuck, you finally get it? You see what we’re fuckin’ on about when we say you look so damn delicious? Shit, I wanna take a bite outta you, so juicy and ripe and fucking perfect.”

Bakugou was out of breath, his voice deep as he growled at you.  You grabbed at the arm around your chest, his thighs, his hair - anything to anchor yourself as his balls papped against you. You could hear someone moaning, whining and sobbing, was that you?

Kirishima had recovered, moving to kneel between Bakugou’s and your own spread legs. “Bakugou, you two look so good together.” That seemed to spur the blond on, his thrusts speeding up as he grunted. You screamed when you felt  a wet muscle swip at your clit, looking down to see Kirishima grinning up at you, his tongue hanging out. On each thrust, he was licking at Bakugou’s cock, and then at your clit right above him, making you wiggle and spasm as you tried to escape the intense sensation.

“Kiri, Kir- stop! Stop, please I can’t! Stop, stop stop stop!”

You were pushing at his head, albeit weakly, but you were trying to move him away, becoming frantic as the combined efforts of the two men overwhelmed you, had you throwing your head back against Bakugou’s shoulder and gasping. Bakugou snickered, before plunging his tongue into your open mouth, stealing a kiss. You whined, scrabbling at his arms, Kirishima’s hair, trying to get away but simultaneously trying to bring the two of them closer. It felt so /good/, you didn’t even have the words to describe how heavenly and lascivious and filthy you were feeling. 

“Hah, you’re so wet, you hear yourself? Sloppy girl. Taking me so well, shit, so goddamn good.”

You could indeed, hear yourself. On every thrust of Bakugou’s, your pussy squelched, greedily sucking him in. It was absolutely filthy, hearing your juices and Kiri’s cum sloshing together as Bakugou shoved his cock into you, again and again. You could hear Kirishima slurping at your cunt with fervor, could tell by the slick sounds and rhythmic movement of his arm that he was frantically jerking himself off as he lapped at the point where Bakugou’s hot flesh met your own.  It was hot, not only in temperature. 

“C’mon baby, let it out, let me taste you. Wanna see you clenching around Katsuki’s cock like the good, sweet little girl you are.”

Kirishima’s words hand you reeling, and the second his lips went back to attacking your clit, you were gone. It almost hurt, how tense your muscles became, squeezing an agonizingly delicious orgasm out of you. Bakugou felt you release, his thrusts speeding up as Kirishima kept his tongue out, laving at Bakuguo’s cock as he hammered into your clenching cunt. You were crying, twisting In Bakugou’s hold as you were quickly overstimulated, shrieking as you were left with no respite.

It didn’t take long for Bakugou to cum, spurred on by your writhing and tears, the way you were begging and pleading and sobbing, imploring the men to stop. With a guttural moan, the blond gave on last thrust, shooting his seed into you, hot ropes of cum filling you up. Kirishima was still licking around Bakugou’s cock, catching the cum and slick that squeezed it’s way past the cock plugging you up.

You shivered, relaxing against the hard chest behind you as Kirishima eventually stopped lapping at you, his own arm still. He had cum again at some point, pumping his cock into his own fist. Bakugou pressed a gentle kiss behind your ear, panting hotly against the shell.

“Fuuuuuck-“ he whined out “- that was amazing.”

“Mhmm.” Kiri hummed his agreement, slowly standing. The redhead flopped down on the bed, crawling up to sprawl out on one side, head resting against a pillow. Bakugou slipped out of you with no warning, your sudden gasp as you felt wet drip out of you making him chuckle. He maneuvered your lax body onto the bed, next to Kirishima, before pressing himself up behind you, trapping your body between the two men. You were too tired to feel gross, to mind the wet slide of your thighs as you shifted into a more comfortable position. Kirishima threw an arm around your waist, leaning up on his elbow to hover over and across you, stealing a kiss from Bakugou. Then he was stealing one from you, wet mouth connected to your own. 

You didn’t fight.

When he flopped back down, you breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like you could finally relax as the two men stayed silent, all three of you exhausted, fucked out. 

This was only the tip of the ice berg. 

If you knew how often and intensely the men intended to fuck you near the mirrors, you would probably pass out. They just wanted to show you what they saw in you. It had been two of the strongest orgasms you had experienced in a while, but there was no way you’d admit it was because of their praising and insistence  on making you watch yourself getting railed by them.

For now, you let yourself drift into a comfortable doze, let the heat of the two bodies caging you in keep you warm, keep you trapped.

Why bother fighting? 

There was no escape.

[ambiguousdisorderken]

in your expert opinion what are some of the most destiel-heavy episodes of spn? i stopped watching around season 7 and have no interest in engaging w the plot of the show at all but i’m in the mood for some gay yearning ykwim

Hi anon! Thank you for reaching out to me about this, I’m, no-joke, very flattered. I’d seen a couple posts on this same question, very thorough and detailed lists on Destiel-centric episodes, but at the moment I cannot find any of them, that would’ve answered your request much faster. So, in advance, sorry, my reply is probably coming in extremely late, but I did write this from scratch, so yeah.

Even though storylines in SPN can be very shitty and hollow, I do feel that to get the full Destiel experience -that long-drawn yearning- one would have to watch the entirety of the show, even if Cas isn’t in the episode or if there’s no explicit mention of their relationship/bond because it gives you a better understanding of them as characters and of how their relationship affects the narrative.

Now, you mentioned you stopped around S7, which is completely understandable and justified given the Dick plot game was very weak and, in my opinion, annoying (so little Cas!). I’m going to start listing from S7 in case you want to refresh your SPN before jumping straight into unseen episodes. Also, since you mentioned no interest in the plot and are specifically craving those sweet crumbs of gay yearning, I’ll skip most one-sided / too subtle episodes and cut to the chase.

Lastly, I hate spoiling things, but you’ve probably seen it all on Tumblr. I tried to keep the episodes’ descriptions short, as it might come in useful. Stuck to key words, quotes and/or little comments.

 Season 7

7x01 – Meet the New Boss: Godstiel, sincere apology. Cas: “I'm gonna find some way to redeem myself to you.”

7x02 – Hello, Cruel World: Mourning. Trench coat melancholy. The heart-wrenching eulogy: “Dumb son of a bitch.”

7x17 – The Born-Again Identity: Emmanuel!Cas, reunion, longing, hurt.

7x21 – Reading is Fundamental: Honey!Cas, hug, hurt, reunion, that painful SORRY (board game) scene.

7x23 – Survival of the Fittest: Honey!Cas, forgiveness, adorable, wified Cas. Dean hits us with: “Nobody cares that you're broken, Cas!" but also “I'd rather have you, cursed or not.”

Season 8 (this season is so good and Destiel is the driving motor of it, I swear. If you can, watch it complete.)

8x01 – We Need to Talk About Kevin: Dean in Purgatory looking for the angel.  Cas is referred to as “your [Dean’s] angel.”

8x02 – What’s Up, Tiger Mommy?: HUG!!!, Purgatory reunion, face touch, very romantic. Monster: “ You'll find your angel there.” //  Dean: “Let me bottom-line it for you. I'm not leaving here without you.”

8x05 – Blood Brother: Cas vs. Benny cat fight lol. Dean: “Cas... we're gonna shove your ass back through the eye of that needle if it kills all three of us.”

8x07 – A Little Slice of Kevin: Cas comes back from Purgatory, but before that Dean starts seeing him in places. Very tragic; hallucinating your dead significant other trope. Has That boner scene. Dean: “I did everything I could to get you out! EVERYTHING!” Cas helps Dean see what truly happened in Purgatory and not his self-altered memories. PACKED!

8x08 – Hunteri Heroici: Hilarious, romantic, intimate. Dean and Cas have an heart to heart. They actually communicate. Cas “I’ll watch over you.”

8x10 Torn and Frayed: They work a case together, and when I say heart eyes…

8x17 – Goodbye Stranger: THIS. EPISODE. Dean “I need you.”

8x19 – Taxi Driver: Separation. Naomi to Dean: "You're hoping Castiel will return to you. I admire your loyalty; I only wish he felt the same way."

8x22 – Clip Show: Lack of trust, hurt, tense interactions. Romantic too (basically, Cas gets Dean an apology basket).

8x23 – Sacrifice: Meaningful conversation and a gay couple hit by Cupid parallel. Dean “So this is it? E.T goes home?"

 Season 9

9x01 – I think I’m Gonna Like it Here: Dean prays to Cas IN.A.CHAPEL. Worry, longing, separation. Dean “Please, man, I need you here.”

9x03 – I’m No Angel: Human!Cas and jealous!Dean.

9x06 – Heaven Can’t Wait: Human!Cas TEXT-BOOK LONGING. GAY AS FUCK. Gazing, touching, they even TALK (for real).

9x09 – Holy Terror: Adorable Cas, flirty vibes, happyish, funny. Cas: “Cas is back in town!”

9x10 – Road Trip: Cas comforts Dean, Cas and Crowley bitching at each other, overall protective!Cas.

9x18 – Metafiction. Cas finds out about the Mark of Cain.

9x21 – King of the Damned: Hug, strong boyfriends vibes.

9x22 – Stairway to Heaven: Cas gives up an entire army, for Dean. Metatron about Cas “He's in love………………………. with humanity.”

9x23  – Do You Believe in Miracles?: At this point, it’s canon stated that Cas will do anything and lose everything if that means saving Dean. Metatron to Cas “You draped yourself in the flag of heaven, but ultimately, it was all about saving one human, right?”

 Season 10

10x01 – Black: Demon!Dean and sick/brokenhearted Cas in a slutty robe missing his man.

10x03 – Soul Survivor: ICONIC. Angel on Demon action! Cas turns down Hannah because he’s too gay and in love. Intimate Deancas talk.

10x05 – Fan Fiction: No Cas, but Destiel references. 

10x09 – The Things We Left Behind: That.Lunch.Date. Deancas introduction to co-parenting.

10x14 – The Executioner’s Song: We get Daddy Murder aka Cain. This is a Pivotal episode to understand Dean’s character development. Plus, it has Deancas interactions.

10x16 – Paint It Black: No Cas, but Dean opens up in confessionary; repressed BISEXUAL AS FUCK.

10x18 – Book of the Damned: Charlie meets Cas. Gay energies everywhere. Cute domestic little scene.

10x20 – Angel Heart: PARENTING! Essential to understand Cas from this point forward.

10x22 – The Prisoner: Just… just watch it. One of THEE Destiel episodes.

10x23 – Brother’s Keeper: No Deancas interactions but it’s the finale, and I recommend watching it because next season takes off literally right from here. No time jumps.

 Season 11

11x02 – Form and Void: Could skip to the very end which is when Cas comes back.

11x03 – The Bad Seed: Cursed!Cas. Dean takes care of him, even wraps him in a blanket. He also cradles his face. Extreme Hurt/Comfort. Jacting joices rejoice.

11x10 – The Devil in the Details: Could skip but has Casifer in it. Interesting to see his dynamic with Dean.

11x18 – Hell’s Angel: Casifer. Dean "It? It's not an it, Sam, it's Cas!"

11x23 – Alpha and Omega: Huggg! Cas willing to go on a guaranteed suicide mission with Dean. Very tender and sad.

 Season 12

12x02 – Keep Calm and Carry On: ANOTHER HUG! Dean presents his boyfriend to his mom<3 Soft and romantic.

12x09 – First Blood: Reunion hug<3, Cas pining… as in he counts his every minute without Dean.

12x10 – Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets: Direct parallel with canon couple. Crystal-clear mutual affection. One of the best. Angel Ishim to Cas about Dean “I'm gonna help you. I'm gonna cure you of your human weakness same way I cured my own… by cutting it out.”

12x12 – Stuck in the Middle with You: A dying Cas confesses his love. “I love you. I love all of you.”

12x19 – The Future: We find out Dean gave Cas a MIXTAPE!!! Very romantic and full of yearning, also worry and what could be seen as a betrayal (ish…).

12x23 – All Along the Watch Tower: Hands down, one of the most distressing Destiel episodes. Cas dies.

 Season 13

13x01 – Lost and Found: This is the worst because you have Dean trying to assimilate Cas’ death. Core of Dean’s widow’s arc. Jack introduction, that’s their new kid.

13x02 – The Rising Son: Widow’s arc (you could skip it, but why would you?).

13x03 – Patience: Widow’s arc (you could skip it, but why would you?). Dean to Sam “He manipulated him, he made him promises, said, ‘paradise on earth’ and Cas bought it and you know what that got him? It got him dead! Now you might be able to forget about that, but I can’t!”

13x04 – The Big Empty: Continuation of widow’s arc and Cas wakes up in the Empty. The Empty to Cas: "I know who you love. There's nothing for you back there." // Dean to Sam “I need you to keep the faith, for both of us. ‘Cause right now, I… Right now, I don’t believe in a damn thing.”

13x05 – Advanced Thanatology: Suicidal and hopeless Dean gets his win. Cas comes back. Gives me the chills.

13x06 – Tombstone: COWBOY BOYFRIENDS!

13x14 – Good Intentions: Happy and fun Destiel scene. So Very Married.

13x23 – Let The Good Times Roll: Season finale, Dean talks about retiring (plans include Cas of course) and just very nice to see them interact.

Season 14

14x03 – The Scar: Reunion.

14x08 – Byzantium: Deanand Cas dealing with their child’s death, then bringing him back by Cas making a deal with the Empty. IMPORTANT EPISODE.

14x09 – The Spear: Cas uses the royal We – married behavior.

14x10 – Nihilism: Dean is stuck in his own mind, and Cas and Sam try to bring him back. Cas “Please, you have to -- you have to try to remember, because the people in your life -- in your real life, out there -- we need you to come back.”

14x12 – Prophet and Loss: Dean gets his very own Dr. Sexy, aka Dr. Cas.

14x14 – Ouroboros: Basically another date (their kid tags along) and They TALK. Very intimate and established marriage vibes.

14x18 – Absence: Shits starts to go south. [ Dean: “Who cares what Jack said? We don't know what happened! But I swear, if he did something to her, if she is -- (points to Castiel) Then you're dead to me. (Castiel looks crushed after Dean says that).]

14x20 – Moriah: Tense and very upsetting. Relationship very damaged.

 Season 15 (I would advise watching the entire season because it relies heavily on Destiel. They’re the heart and the emotional motor leading the plot onwards.)

15x01 – Back and To The Future: Deancas’ in the aftermath of their kid’s death. Tension gets worse.

15x02 – Raising Hell: Tension rises, this is very intense. Cas “Dean. You asked, "What about all of this is real?" We are.”

15x03 – The Rupture: Breaking point ends in divorce.

15x06 – Golden Time: Painful phone call which speaks volumes about the current state of their relationship at the time. Also, good to see where they’re standing and how they’re coping.

15x08 – Our Father Who Aren’t in Heaven: Strained relationship so obvious they’re offered couples’ therapy.

15x09 – The Trap: MASTERPIECE. Back to Purgatory. Can (and is) taken as Dean’s love confession (because it is). 

15x12 – Galaxy Brain: So married. Little domestic date, you can see LOVE written in their faces.

15x13 – Destiny’s Child: AU!Dean and Sam. Not a yearning episode per se, but AU!Dean? SO GAY.

15x17 – Unity: God reveals that the only act of free will in any universe he ever created has been Cas choosing Dean.

15x18 – Despair: Cas confesses his love to Dean.

[cakesunflower]

Inevitable [C.H. One Shot]

Summary: What was meant to be the best day of Adeline’s life took an unexpected turn, and so running out of her wedding only to walk into a bar owned by her high school ex-boyfriend seemed like some kind of act of fate. Heartbreak, nostalgia, and lingering love had quite a time coming together to bring the inevitable.

A/N: YEEET this is my bartender!Calum x runaway bride!OC one shot that i started writing literally mONTHS ago. it’s a whopping 27,299 words so sit back and enjoy the words. hehe happy reading!

        The one good thing about New York City was despite it being full of so many people, no one really looked at anyone else twice. Or, well, maybe they did but they were quick to go back to minding their own business, not particularly caring of what some stranger in a bustling city looked like or was doing. Adeline was grateful for those kinds of people, especially in this moment, as she wandered down the street in aching heels and a dress with tulle that dragged behind her as she went. The loud city and hundreds of people surrounding her worked hard in occupying her mind, but her thoughts and memories of just an hour before were much louder.

        “—nervous about getting married?”

        Adeline paused as she picked up on the voice of Keith, her fiancé’s best friend since high school. She’d managed to sneak out of the bridal suite, somehow slipping past her best friends and finding herself in the small room that held vending machines. The ceremony was just moments away from starting but Adeline, who’d watched what she ate for months to fit into her dress, was in dire need of a snack. So she found the vending machine room in the hotel, popped in some change and got herself a small packet of M&Ms. Not exactly a meal, but it’d suffice for now.

        Who the fuck knew her little escapade would lead her to overhearing something that would ruin what was to be the happiest day of her life.

        “No,” Ian, her fiancé, responded after a droll snort. “Pretty excited, honestly.” His response had a small smile curling at Adeline’s lips, putting some ease at her own jitter nerves. “All that money her aunt left her? Can’t wait to get my hands on it, man. Adeline didn’t even make me sign a prenup or anything, which she’ll end up regretting.”

        Adeline blinked, heart dropping to the pit of her stomach as her lips parted in disbelief over what she was hearing. For a moment, she wanted to believe that she was somehow mishearing or misinterpreting Ian’s words, but that voice that had been gnawing at the back of her mind for the past few months was louder than ever before, screaming at her that it was right in its suspicions over Ian. The man she loved, or thought she did, had become someone completely different from when they first got engaged five months ago—and from when Adeline came into her Aunt Lorraine’s money after she passed away two months ago.

        It had been a devastating loss to Adeline, since her Aunt Lorraine was the only living relative she had. Her parents had died when she was young, no grandparents to take her in, save for Aunt Lorraine, who was her mom’s older sister and the only sibling from either of her parents’ side. Lorraine wasn’t married nor did she have kids of her own, but she took in Adeline and raised her. She was a wealthy woman, able to provide for Adeline no matter what, and losing her had been unbearable, wondering how the universe could be so cruel to take away the only family Adeline had ever known.

        She almost canceled the wedding, unable to go through with it without her Aunt Lorraine walking her down the aisle, but Ian had convinced her to do so. For Lorraine.

        Adeline was realizing, with her stomach churning in disgust and anger and grief, that Ian wanted to do so for Lorraine’s money.

        God. She should’ve noticed the change. She should’ve listened to herself when she started getting doubts about marrying Ian—but she’d chalked it up to nerves. She thought her moments of doubt when she’d ask herself if this was what she really wanted were just that—doubts. Because she loved Ian, didn’t she? They’d been together for three years, how could she so easily just want to throw away a relationship for that long?

        Adeline had felt guilty for even having those thoughts in the first place. But hearing Ian’s words right now, words that were telling her he only wanted her for money, washed away the guilt. She’d always had more money than him, thanks to her own job as well as being raised by Lorraine, and over the years Adeline had become blind and deaf to Ian’s remarks and insecurities pertaining to it. He’d always been stuffed about her making more than him, about her having more. But, shit, she didn’t expect for it to be this much of a big deal. She didn’t expect it to create a deceitful relationship.

        Her body tensed, clenching the M&Ms she had in her hand, as her jaw worked and the disappointed, dull ache in her chest transformed into fiery anger. She glared at the door that Ian was on the other side of, her back straightening with newfound resolution. She couldn’t regret not getting a prenup if she didn’t get married.

        Adeline glanced down at her feet. She wondered just how far she could run in these heels before her feet gave out.

        A blaring horn passing by jolted Adeline back into the present, blinking as she realized she was no longer at the hotel, but in the streets of downtown Manhattan. Adeline sucked in a breath, feeling the familiar burn in her eyes and grinded her teeth together as she kept moving, weaving her way through the other pedestrians. She knew it was normal to tear up in this circumstance, no fault in mourning over the absolute death of what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, but she didn’t want to.

        She refused to cry. Her heart was heavy, her throat was dry and her head hurt but she refused to cry. She wasn’t going to waste her tears on a man who didn’t deserve them. But it would be a lie to say she didn’t wish Aunt Lorraine was here to help her through it.

        Adeline almost mistook a drop of water on her cheek as a tear that may have escaped her eye, but then the familiar growl of thunder rumbled through the sky, and Adeline looked up exasperatedly at the sight of the greying clouds gathering above the skyscrapers. Looking around, she noticed some people duck out to get cover, others pulling out umbrellas, and Adeline let out a groan. Today truly was proving to be utter shit.

        And then it started drizzling, and Adeline cursed as she gathered the skirt of her dress—praising herself for not going with too much puff—and picked up her pace, looking around for a safe haven she could pass the time in. So when her eyes landed on a neon sign that read Sensation, registering that it was a bar, Adeline decided she could use a drink or two to put her out of her misery and hastily approached the door.

        She stumbled in just when the rain began picking up, her skin and dress only slightly wet, catching the attention of the few souls scattered around the bar. And why wouldn’t she? She was practically glimmering in the beaded bodice of her dress, the sparkle of her makeup and glittering jewelry. Utterly standing out in the atmosphere of the bar with brick walls and band posters, classic rock playing through the speakers mixed with the sounds of the overhead TV playing some soccer game and pool balls clinking in the back.

        It was obvious she didn’t belong in her bridal get up. But, God, she didn’t care.

        Her rampant emotions left her feeling a bit numb, Adeline realized, as she forced her feet to move to head over to the bar on the left. It wasn’t too particularly busy at the moment, and Adeline didn’t care for the few eyes that she could feel on her as she neared the bar. She didn’t blame them for staring—so long as no one tried to talk to her. Holding a conversation wasn’t something Adeline thought herself to be capable of at the moment. Holding down a drink, however, was a different story.

        She plopped herself down on the far end of the bar, the dress flowing as she glared at the wooden bar top, feeling the pity and anger and sadness rush through her. It was simmering, like a pot of boiling water, ready to explode when it reached its peak. How desperately did Adeline crave one of Aunt Lorraine’s hugs where she felt at her safest.

        For a moment, the only person Adeline was angry at was herself. There had been a couple of times, only a few, where over the three years she’d been with Ian, Aunt Lorraine would express her curiosities to Adeline, asking her if she was sure if Ian was the one. Even after they got engaged, but Adeline had always stupidly dismissed her. The majority of her was convinced in her heart that Ian was who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, was sure he felt the same when he proposed. But love turned out to be tricky, and it had just played a cruel joke on Adeline.    

        Beads of water could be felt on her skin as they traveled from the curve of her shoulder, down her collarbones and disappeared into the sweetheart neckline of her dress. Dark brown hair that used to be tied into an elegant bun was now loose as strands stuck to her tanned skin. Adeline momentarily wondered if her makeup was smudged, but then quickly deduced that she didn’t give a fuck.

        “Think you’ve made a wrong turn, sweetheart.”

        Adeline’s face immediately scrunched into a scowl, ready to tell whoever’s deep voice just drawled to fuck off, until she looked up. She stared at the man in front of her on the other side of the bar, a black half sleeved shirt fitted and tucked into black pants, showing off tattoos inking his golden skin. Blonde hair sat messily atop his head and familiar dark eyes widened slightly, whether it was because he was taking in her attire or recognizing her—or both.

        The incredulity slackened her jaw as she gaped at him in return, wondering if she was imagining him, wondering why her subconscious would conjure him up in the first place. But despite his different hair color, Adeline could never forget him or the accented drawl of his voice. Her back straightened, breath still in her lungs as she managed to sound out, “Calum?”

        Her high school ex-boyfriend let out a disbelieving scoff of his own as he braced his hands on the bar, dark eyes looking into Adeline’s lighter ones as he gave a shake of his head. “Holy shit,” was how he responded, his low voice carrying a matured rasp he didn’t have back when they were teenagers. He’d grown, obviously, since she last saw him when she was eighteen, he was nearly twenty. Grown into his features, seemingly taller, with a sharp jaw and eyes she’d always seen as both alluring and kind. With another scoff, he added, “I feel like I’m in an episode of Friends.”

        At that, Adeline pursed her lips, unable to keep the unimpressed expression from her face. She wasn’t quite in the mood to joke about her appearance—or spare a thought as to why she was dressed like this in the first place. No, she did not want to think about how she was meant to be getting married right now, did not want to give attention to the seemingly permanent heaviness in her chest where her heart was supposed to be.

        So she forced herself to look past Calum, at the shelves of liquor behind him, before stating, “I’ll take a Hennessy and Coke. Heavy on the Hennessy, please.”

        Adeline didn’t need to directly look at Calum to notice the raise of his eyebrows, biting her tongue for her snippy tone as she looked down at the wooden bar top that had scratches on it. Any other day, Adeline knew she would feel happy to see Calum, thrilled, even. But today didn’t feel like the appropriate day.

        Even if the blood in her veins seem to pick up at the sight of him.

        Fortunately, after regarding her for a moment as she felt his eyes take her in—glancing up only briefly to see the curiosity and confusion and a flash of something else swimming in his gaze—Calum turned to get her drink. Adeline’s light brown eyes trailed after him cautiously, pointedly ignoring the few men and women scattered around the bar, knowing their gazes were shifting to her every now and then. Instead, she watched the tattooed man fix her drink, just barely acknowledging the tug of something she could feel at him being in front of her.

        It had been, what, seven years or so since she last saw him—since they’d broken up. A high school relationship both had believed would go beyond yet it never did. A break up neither of them had particularly wanted, but with school and distance putting a strain on their relationship, it had been the mutual and right thing to do. Despite the amount of nights Adeline remembered crying in her dorm room because she missed him so much. So many countless nights were spent like that, alone and yearning, and heartbroken.

        Until she met Ian.

        But that all went to shit, too, didn’t it?

        Adeline found herself glaring at her hands, which were linked together at the bar top. More specifically, at the now empty ring finger of her left hand, where a faint tan line of where her engagement ring used to be resided after months of being occupied. Her finger felt naked, empty. She wondered if that would be a forever thing, the emptiness and betrayal that had taken up residence in the pit of her stomach, kind of like how this night was supposed to be a forever thing. Not anymore, though. The only forever thing on her hands were the tattoos on the insides of both of her wrists; roman numeral dates of her parents’ birthdays on her left, and the date of when Aunt Lorraine legally adopted her on her right.

        “Are you sure this is where you’re supposed to be?” Calum spoke up again, a cautious tilt in his voice as he placed the glass in front of her, his accent lurking beneath the smooth husk of his voice. Adeline’s gaze flickered up to look at him, took in the muted curiosity that didn’t do too good a job to hide the concern she wasn’t sure he should be feeling, and reached for the glass before downing half of the drink.

        The bitter Hennessy stood out against the sweet Coke, but Adeline welcomed the slightly burning taste as it ran down her throat and tingled her veins. And when she put the glass down, half empty, Adeline looked up to see Calum’s raised eyebrows before smiling wryly, “Here is better than there.”

        She put her phone on the bar top, feeling Calum’s eyes on her as she changed the settings to Do Not Disturb after receiving dozens upon dozens of messages from her friends, a couple family members she didn’t talk to much anyway, and Ian. She didn’t even bother looking at his messages, throat tight, and opted to only respond to her best friend, Gabby, to let her know she was okay and safe and that she just couldn’t go through with the wedding, promising details later. Once that reassurance was out of the way, Adeline refused to answer anyone else’s messages and calls, knowing Gabby would take care of it. No one else was important, anyway. It’s not like she had much family. The vultures definitely did not count.

        Adeline felt a burn in her eyes, mentally cursing herself for the tears that threatened to fall as she quickly blinked them back with a sharp inhale. Despite herself, she looked up, watching as Calum leaned back against the counter of liquor behind him, not having anyone else to serve as he crossed his arms over his chest. Adeline tried to ignore the way his biceps seemed to strain against the tight material of his shirt—yeah, he’d definitely grown since she last saw him—and kept her focus on her drink.

        Casually, she heard Calum inquire, “Get left at the altar?”

        Adeline released the thin black straw she’d been drinking out of, letting out an affronted and humorless scoff as she shot him a really? look. “No. I’m the one that did the leaving.” She caught the way his eyebrows twitched upwards, hoping to control his surprised expression but not entirely succeeding, and Adeline would’ve laughed if she had the energy. Instead, she let out another self-deprecating scoff. “I had a good reason—he turned out to be a gold digger.” Raising her glass, elbow propped on the bar top, Adeline smirked wryly, “Mo’ money, mo’ problems.”

        She wondered if he remembered her Aunt Lorraine—they’d always been fond of one another. Hell, at this point, Adeline could be sure that Calum was probably the only boyfriend of hers that Aunt Lorraine approved of. Calum tilted his head ever so slightly, eyebrows knitting together. “And you didn’t find out until the day of your wedding?”

        She didn’t need to be reminded of how oblivious she had gotten—especially from her ex-boyfriend. “Love is blind.”

        Calum pursed his lips as Adeline took another sip of her drink, gaze wandering above his head before landing on two pictures framed on the wall. She narrowed her eyes at one of the photos, consisting of Calum sitting around what looked like a fire pit, drink in his hand and grin on his face as he sat with three other guys—two of whom Adeline immediately recognized as Michael Clifford and Luke Hemmings, two other guys she had gone to school with, both of whom happened to be Calum’s best friend. She fought the smile that surprisingly tugged at her lips; he still hung out with them.

        “Adeline,” Calum sighed, the solemn tone in his voice tightening her muscles as she took in the sympathetic expression he wore, eyebrows furrowed together and lips tugged downwards. He gave a shake of his head. “I’m so—”

        “Please, don’t.” Her voice was hard, cutting in before he could finish his sentiment, just barely steady. Adeline’s light brown eyes met Calum’s dark, watching as he rolled his lips into his mouth, and she hoped the lighting of the bar didn’t give away how heavy her eyes felt with the tears that had gathered. Adeline just knew if she focused too much on her situation, she would break down right in this bar. “I don’t need anyone’s sympathy.” She swallowed, unable to get rid of the lump in her throat as she added in a whisper, “Please.”

        Calum lifted his chin, the muscle in his jaw jumping as she saw the acceptance settle in his features. Some relief relaxed her; Calum had always been one to listen to her. She appreciated it back then and she did now, as well, as he remained silent while Adeline sipped her drink. It warmed her up and for a while, she forgot that she was a bit wet from being in the drizzle for a couple of moments. That’s why she kept sipping her drink, hoping to become numb to the cruel joke that had just been played on her, hoping to forget the humiliation and heartbreak and anger that formed a rampant tornado in her head and stomach.

        “Do you—” She lifted her gaze right as Calum cut himself off, taking in the subtle furrow between his eyebrows as he eyed her. He looked conflicted, as if he was unsure if he wanted to finish his question. But when his dark eyes met hers, Calum let out a breath before stepping towards the bar and asked, “Would you like a change of clothes, Addie?”

        Her throat locked at the nickname that fell from his lips, grip on the glass tightening. She never thought she’d hear him say it again—didn’t think she’d want him to until the moment he said it. It rolled off his lips so easily, so naturally, and it tugged at her heart once again. But Adeline expertly pushed the feeling aside, gaze dropping to her clothes, biting the inside of her lower lip as she took in the dress.

        It was the perfect dress for the perfect day. But as soon as Calum mentioned changing out of it, it suddenly felt too constricting, entrapping her in the moment of finding out the truth about Ian. She needed it off, Adeline realized, the bodice suddenly itching at her chest and tulle weighing down her seated figure. Her perfect day was ruined—not that it was ever truly perfect without her Aunt Lorraine—and now her perfect dress felt like an ugly Halloween costume she needed to be rid of quickly.

        She finally looked at Calum, who was patiently waiting for her answer, and she nodded. Her voice was an unsteady whisper under the music playing throughout the bar, her emotions gradually taking a turn for the worse, as she responded, “Yes.”

        Calum nodded, looking to his right as he said, “I’m gonna head up for a couple of mins, alright?” He was speaking to the other bartender that was on the other end of the bar, who nodded before Calum looked at Adeline and encouraged, “Come on.”

        Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as he walked from around the bar, but Adeline grabbed her phone and stood up, the shuffle of her dress recapturing the attention of the other patrons of the bar. This time, though, Adeline felt her face flush as they eyed her not so subtly, keeping her gaze down and using her hands to grip the skirt of her dress as she walked to where Calum waited for her, her heels clicking against the floor as she went.

        She didn’t dare meet Calum’s, or anyone’s, gaze as he began walking, wanting nothing more than to push down the embarrassment that flushed her skin and churned her stomach. But, truly, it felt nothing compared to the ache in her chest she still refused to acknowledge.

        Calum led her to the far back of the bar, through what Adeline realized was the storage room stocked with bottles of different kinds of alcohol, before they reached a door that Calum unlocked with a set of keys he pulled out from his pocket. “Come on,” he murmured, and Adeline followed him up a wide flight of stairs that were surprisingly well lit, the click of her heels sharper than the music playing out in the bar.

        Adeline moved carefully, holding the tulle of her skirt bunched up in one hand while holding onto the railing with the other, Calum’s footsteps thudding a lot more heavily on the wooden steps as they went up. They got to the top landing, turning a corner and Adeline watched as Calum used another key to unlock yet another door.

        She followed him into an apartment, open and spacious, with wooden floors and bricked walls that gave it the kind of New York style Adeline loved. Her living room was the same way. It was bigger than Adeline would expect for it to be, yet the size of it was perfect for someone living on their own. The living room and kitchen were only separated by a counter, bar stools on the side of the living room reminiscent of the bar downstairs. Windows in the living room framed with parted curtains allowed for the view of the rained out city outside, glass stained with droplets that smacked against it.

        “Let me grab you a towel and, uh, something to wear,” Calum said after he shut the door, and Adeline nodded silently before watching him walk down a hall before turning into a room on the right.

        She idled awkwardly by the stools, becoming all too aware of the chills rising on her drying skin as she stood in the somewhat chilly apartment. Tendrils of hair that escaped from her now messy updo stuck to the back of her neck and the diamond earrings seemed to be weighing her down. But nothing like the weight that settled on her chest.

        “Here—hopefully you can tighten the sweats. And I, uh, got a hanger for you to hang the dress.” Calum’s voice pulled Adeline’s attention, the short chuckle escaping him as he approached her. In his hands was a folded pair of black sweatpants, a shirt, and a towel for her to dry off with, a hanger sitting on top. “The bathrooms right over there.”

        Adeline took the small pile from him, an appreciative smile quirking at her lips as she murmured a soft thanks. She moved around him, feeling his gaze on her and the ruffle of her dress as she approached the bathroom. Adeline put the pile on the counter as something clicked in her head, letting out a breath as she realized she wouldn’t be able to take off the dress by herself. Gabby had to zip up the back for her, and Adeline knew she couldn’t reach the back on her own. Damn it.

        “Hey, Calum?” She chewed on the inside of her lower lip as he appeared in the doorway a moment later, eyebrows raised in question and Adeline didn’t pay much attention to the drumming of her heart, knowing it was out of embarrassment. That’s all she was capable of feeling today—humiliation. His brown eyes met her lighter ones, and through the flush of her cheeks, Adeline asked quietly, “Could you, uh, help unzip me?”

        His gaze flickered down to the dress, forehead smoothing out in realization and Adeline pretended she didn’t notice the way his throat worked. With a quick lick of his lips, Calum answered, “Yeah, sure.”

        She held her breath despite herself as she turned, focusing her attention on the baby blue colored shower curtain in an attempt to ignore the feel of Calum’s fingers at her back. Adeline pressed her teeth together as she felt him grip the top of the dress before his other hand grasped the small zipper. The quick beating of her heart drove Adeline crazy, frowning at herself because seriously? She could feel Calum’s body right behind her, his heat radiating in their proximity, and despite the years between them, Adeline’s throat dried at the familiarity of it. A kind of warmth she had once loved being wrapped up in, even if it was all the way back in high school.

        Somethings she never forgot. Calum Hood was one of them, it seemed.

        The sharp yet quiet sound of the zipper coming undone rang in Adeline’s ears, and she pressed her palm against the bodice of her dress just in case as the now loose dress relaxed the narrow off the shoulder tulle straps of her dress. There had been a time where Calum knew her better than she knew herself—was he aware that him being so close was sending her heart into overdrive? That when she should, like perhaps a normal person, be grieving over the end of a three year relationship—the explosion of her wedding day being absolutely fucked—she was instead biting the tip of her tongue in an attempt to focus on anything but the warmth of his fingers on her back?

        God—what was wrong with her? In the span of two months, she’d lost her Aunt Lorraine and her fiancé. How could she be standing there getting overwhelmed by the mere act of an ex-boyfriend standing behind her?

        Granted, he was unzipping her dress, but that was besides the point.

        Adeline gripped the front of the dress close to her chest, even though she knew it wasn’t just about to fall around her feet, and she felt a chill slither down her now exposed back as she took a hasty step forward, putting some distance between the two of them. Her free hand grabbed the doorknob and, not quite meeting Calum’s gaze, rushed out, “Thanks,” just as he stepped back as well, allowing her to close the door before he could respond.

        Her soft whisper of, “Oh, my God,” felt loud in the quiet of the bathroom, but Adeline shook her head as she turned to face the mirror above the sink, inhaling sharply as she took in her reflection. Her makeup, for the most part, seemed to be intact—the waterproof mascara really having done its due diligence. Only the lipstick she’d worn had began to chaste away, and Adeline pursed her lips as she looked into the eyes of her reflection.

        Though she hadn’t shed many tears, Adeline could see the red rims of her eyes, strained from the onslaught of tears she had managed to hold back. The glow she had woken up with that morning, excited in the best way to get married to who she thought was the love of her life, had disappeared, leaving Adeline a dull reminiscent of who she had been just a few hours prior. Even the professionally done makeup failed to hide the impact of her life being leveled right before her, making her appear as hollow as she felt. In the quiet and privacy of the bathroom, reality settled, allowing Adeline to finally, deeply acknowledge how fucked up her life had become within a blink of an eye.

        It would be so unbelievable easy to fall into a heap in the corner of the bathroom, dress and all, and succumb to the torment in her heart that troubled her. Without any eyes on her, how easy would it be to just finally break the hell down.

        But as quickly as that thought came into her head, it was just as quickly thrown out of her head. She didn’t want to cry over Ian, despite knowing that she wasn’t going to cry over him rather than what happened to her. Adeline had never been one to care much for what other people thought, never listened to gossip whether it was among her friends or her family, but she already knew the amount of shit she was going to get from family that she barely talked to in the first place.

        She really wished Aunt Lorraine was with her.

        Adeline took in a deep breath, sniffing afterwards as she shook her head at herself. No. She wasn’t going to fall into an abyss of self pity—not in Calum’s bathroom anyway.

        So she let the dress fall around her ankles, stepping out of it and using the hanger Calum had helpfully provided to hang up the heavy article before hanging it on the hook on the door. Grabbing the towel, the soft material was gentle against her somewhat damp skin as she dried herself off, eyes landing on the clothes folded for her. Once again, Adeline’s throat tightened, memories of when they were in high school playing through her mind, moments of when she’d go to the soccer games in either his jersey or varsity jacket.

        How funny was fate, bringing her to her ex-boyfriend in the midst of running from her fiancé?

        Adeline’s fingers brushed along the soft material of the shirt. Yeah; fate was a funny thing, and something told her she shouldn’t take this turn of events with a grain of salt.

*****

        Calum’s fingers rhythmically tapped against the counter, a small attempt of grounding himself into reality to prevent losing himself to the thoughts swirling around his head. He had pulled his phone out to further distract him, and yet he kept glancing to the right in the direction of the hall, all to aware of the woman in his bathroom. If he was being honest, he was in a state of disbelief, had been since the second Adeline’s eyes met his and he realized who exactly the woman in a fucking wedding dress in his bar was.

        The past had slapped him in the face with the arrival of Adeline Grace, just as beautiful as he remembered her being—because even today, years after since he last saw her, she was a sight meant to only be admired. Six years separated the two of them and yet, the second he recognized her, she had sent his heart into his throat like she used to every time when they were younger. He didn’t try to think about her often, but that always failed, and she was present in his thoughts mostly when he lay alone in his bed at night and his head started picking apart every aspect of his life as a way of tiring him out to finally go to sleep. That’s when her face often flashed across his mind, the frozen image of an eighteen year old Adeline because that was the last time he’d actually seen her. Even in the age of social media, Calum didn’t give into his darkest desires of looking he up. He always figured it would only end up hurting him.

        Was this the universe’s distorted way of rewarding him for his self control?

        Out of all the bars in New York, Adeline just happened to walk into his—from her abandoned wedding, no less. Even in the face of betrayal and heartache, Adeline was a picture of beauty, and Calum felt guilty for regarding her as such when she was so obviously going through what could arguably be the worst day of her life. Still, Calum believed in things happening for a reason, he believed in the idea of the universe working in a person’s favor even if it didn’t feel like it at the time—and he’s had many of those—and no matter the circumstances, he couldn’t help but believe that his high school ex-girlfriend showing up to his bar on what was to be her wedding day meant something more.

        But he’d never say it to Adeline. Not today, or ever—he wasn’t sure. All he wanted to do was help her however he could; turning her away would never be an option, that much he knew. He’d kind of made that mistake already, hadn’t he, in some way?

        Soon enough, he heard the familiar creak of the bathroom door opening and he instantly sat up, locking his phone as he watched Adeline emerge. He propped his right elbow on the back of the stool, body turning as his gaze took in the sight of her in clothes that were far too big for her—his clothes. She used the drawstrings of the sweatpants to tighten them as much as she could, one shoulder of his plain red shirt hanging low on her collarbone; she was practically swimming in his clothes, and the silver heels on her feet only further mismatched her outfit.

        Calum figured she took a while in there because of her hair—which had been made into an updo when she arrived, and was now falling around her shoulders in waves, rid of the army of pins that had been holding it up. Out of the dress and in his clothes, Adeline looked small, despite the added height her heels gave her five-foot-six figure, playing with her nude painted nails as she slowly walked towards him, her heels clicking against the floor.

        “I, uh—” Adeline paused, vaguely gesturing towards the bathroom as she looked at him. She suddenly seemed shy, quiet, and it stirred something in the pit of Calum’s stomach. It wasn’t her, he knew, her demeanor taking a hit from what the day had already done to her. “I left my dress hanging just so it could dry a little.”

        Calum nodded, brown eyes taking her in. She was playing with her phone in her hand, her nerves acting up, and Calum pulled his lower lip into his mouth briefly because he knew she didn’t know what to do next. So he stood up, ticking his head towards the door. “Come on—let me get you another drink.”

        He heard her follow him out the apartment, waiting for him in the landing as he locked his door before the two of them descended the stairs and went back to the bar. Calum walked behind the counter as Adeline returned to her seat, and he felt his eyes on her as he made her another drink.

        When he placed it in front of her and Adeline took it with a gentle thanks, Calum let out a quiet breath. “Listen, Addie—” She looked up at him and Calum bit the inside of his cheek as her nickname slipped past his tongue without much thought. She didn’t seem bothered by it. “I know you’re probably not in the mood but just so you know—if you wanna talk about it, I’m here.” With a soft smirk, he added, “Bartenders are good listeners.”

        Her light brown eyes remained locked with his darker ones, fingers absently twirling the thin black straw in her drink. The light of the bar glimmered against her eyes, and he saw the gentle curve of her lips as she responded, “You’d been a good listener long before you became a bartender, Calum.” Her words had Calum’s smile returning, soft as his eyebrows drew together, taking a breath. Adeline’s gaze dropped, eyeing the drink in front of her as she pulled her lower lip into her mouth. “I don’t even know if there’s anything to talk about, y’know?” she spoke up and Calum braced his hands on the bar top. “I don’t know if he was a liar from the beginning and I just didn’t see it, or if something changed along the way.”

        Calum took a breath, chin lifting as he peered down at her. The dejected, conflicted expression on her face tugged at his heart. “I think you would’ve known something was off if he, y’know, had an agenda from the start.”

        Adeline let out a disbelieving scoff, lifting her gaze to look up at him through long eyelashes. “Would I?” she asked, the sadness in her eyes only showing off the emptiness she felt as she cupped her glass. “I have a habit of not seeing what’s right in front of me.” She dropped her gaze then, lips twisting to the side, and Calum’s throat worked at her words, stopping himself from finding a double meaning behind them, stopping himself from reading too into them. Now wasn’t the time. “Either I was too blind to see it from the start, or I wasn’t as worth as the money that came with me.”

        That instantly deepened Calum’s frown, a rush of anger coursing through his veins at the thought of some asshole ever making Adeline feel badly about herself. Calum could only hope he never made Adeline feel like that but, fuck, this wasn’t about him. “Hey, stop,” Calum said, shifting so he was leaning down, resting his arms on the bar top as he tilted his head to meet her gaze. She reluctantly locked her light brown eyes with his darker ones. “You’ve got every right to be angry and upset over this, but don’t blame yourself, alright? The only one who’s at fault here is—is—”

        “Ian,” Adeline supplied.

        The guy’s name sounded like an asshole. “Yeah, him,” Calum finished tightly.

        She looked at him for a few moments, and Calum hoped she saw the sincerity in his eyes as he maintained the gaze, fighting to not get distracted by how pretty she was—as always. Her nose ring glinted gently against the light of the bar as the corner of her lips quirked up, tapping her nails once against the glass. The sound was so clear, reminding Calum of how close they now were, leaning on the bar on their respective sides.

        Adeline took a breath, sitting up, adding some distance between them as Calum linked his fingers together. “At the end of the day, I’m gonna look like the bad guy,” she sighed with a somewhat bitter chuckle. She raised the glass, eyes meeting Calum’s. “I’m the one who ran out; I’ve got no doubt Ian’s gonna make himself look like the victim. The vultures are gonna take his side, probably.”

        She smirked by the end of her statement, and Calum felt his own lips tugging upwards despite the harsh truth of her words—mostly because of the familiarity he found. He clearly remembered Adeline’s nickname for her family, all money hungry despite having their own—but never as much as Adeline’s aunt. Standing straight, Calum shrugged. “I’m sure Lorraine’ll put ’em in place for you.”

        He wasn’t sure where he went wrong with his response when he saw the smile drop from Adeline’s face, features stoning as she lowered her gaze. Calum’s eyebrows knitted together as Adeline’s throat worked, lips pursing, and he so easily recognized the somber expression she wore. Right when he parted her lips, Adeline broke the news, “Actually, uh, Aunt Lorraine passed two months ago.”

        Calum inhaled sharply, quietly at her revelation, fingers folding into his palms as his knuckles pressed into the hardwood of the countertop. He clenched his jaw as Adeline kept her gaze on the glass in front of her, and Calum bowed his head briefly as he remembered Aunt Lorraine. She was one of the kindest women he’d ever met, but never let anyone push her around, was a hard ass when she had to be, and loved Adeline with every fiber of her being. She’d taken Adeline in when she was just four and lost her parents, and he got along well with her—she’d often tell Calum that he was her favorite of the boys Adeline had brought around before him.

        Knowing she was gone—knowing that Adeline lost the one parent she knew—twisted Calum’s stomach a lot more harshly than he expected. He hadn’t seen Adeline or Lorraine for years, but those years between them didn’t mean the loss of a woman he admired and cared about didn’t strike him painfully.

        “I’m—” Calum sighed, lifting his head as he shook it once, lips pressing together tightly before he muttered, “I’m really sorry to hear that, Adeline. I—Lorraine was an amazin’ woman.”

        “Yeah,” Adeline smiled, sad and fond, gaze flickering up to lock with his. She looked at him for a moment, her gaze heavy nearly knocking the wind out of Calum, until she said, “She loved you.” Her smile widened a fraction, almost teasing through the solemnity. “Thought you were the best of the bunch.” Adeline shrugged as she continued, “She didn’t want a funeral, just a cremation and then I, uh, spread her ashes at the old lake house.”

        Calum’s lips quirked up in a sad, nostalgic smile. He remembered that lake house—Lorraine would often invite him to join her and Adeline whenever they went up to it for the weekend. Throat working, Calum felt the words weigh heavily on his tongue as he slowly, cautiously asked, “How’d she pass?”

        His gaze flickered to the door as it opened and two people rushed in, running from the rain as they stood by the entrance to dry off. Adeline let out a long sigh. “Heart attack. She’d had one last year but, uh, wasn’t able to bounce back from this one.”

        Her lips twisted to the side as she kept her gaze low, eyebrows twitching together in a frown. Calum’s heart ached for Adeline. For losing her aunt and for losing this day. She’d already lost someone so important to her, and for her to find out her fiancé was nothing but a greedy scumbag on her wedding day? Calum wished he could make this better for her, make her smile just a little.

        Some things never changed.

*****

        “Do you believe in fate?”

        Dr. Boocz quirked an eyebrow, and Adeline knew she hadn’t expected the question. Still, Adeline was curious for her answer, and Dr. Boocz leaned back in her seat and crossed her leg over her left knee. “I believe in it to a certain extent,” she answered. “I think that some things fall apart so that better things can come together. But I also believe that if life is going bad, you have the free will to perceive it however you want. It’s like looking at the glass half full versus half empty. A person’s current situation can suck,” she laughed gently before continuing, “and sometimes it’s beyond their own control but the only way to help your mental health is to fix how you view the situation and what you’re going to do to better yourself.”

        Adeline nodded along before letting out a soft scoff through her nose. “A simple yes or no would’ve done the trick, Doc.”

        Dr. Boocz smiled, hands linking together at her knee, pen in between her fingers as she inquired, “Why the interest in fate?”

        Rolling her lips into her mouth, Adeline let her gaze wander towards the window. They were on the fifth floor of the building, the city around them, and it often distracted Adeline. Sometimes, though, it put her in a trance, allowed her to fall into her thoughts and sort through them while Dr. Boocz patiently waited. Her words swam in Adeline’s mind, chewing the inside of her cheek. Some things fall apart so that better things can come together. Ian’s face flashed across her mind and Adeline pressed her teeth together. Her relationship with him fell apart but in the aftermath she. . . Somehow ended up in Calum’s bar.

        She’d spent the past few days thinking about it amidst avoiding ashamed family members and cutting her communication with Ian short. Aunt Lorraine’s brownstone was left to Adeline and she hadn’t quite decided what to do with it yet, so she moved back into the house and Gabby, along with a couple of other close friends of Adeline’s, had gone to her shared apartment with Ian and packed up her things for her. She refused to let there be a chance of her running into Ian, knowing the odds of it were high if she went to the apartment, so she was grateful her friends offered to do so.

        That didn’t mean Ian didn’t try to reach out to her. He was pissed, she could tell from the texts she’d received before blocking his number. Gabby had temporarily moved in with Adeline just in case Ian showed up to the house so she wouldn’t have to deal with him alone.

        That all fell apart and yet Adeline ended up walking right into Calum.

        In between being angry with Ian and missing Aunt Lorraine, Adeline couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Calum. Out of all the places in the city, she ended up in his bar. Over the six years between them, neither of them ran into each other until the moment she walked out of her own wedding. Perfectly timed for them to see one another again during a time that left Adeline feeling so empty. Unsurprising because Calum. . . He never made Adeline feel like that. Even when they broke up, even when it was leading to the end of their relationship, the only time she had felt empty because of him was after they were no longer together. Like a piece of her was missing.

        She thought Ian filled it. Now she realized he had been a band aid that’s long since weathered away.

        “I ran into my ex,” Adeline finally answered Dr. Boocz, letting out a breath. “When I left my—my wedding. I was just wandering around the city and I ended up at a bar. Turns out it’s owned by my ex.”

        Dr. Boocz nodded. “And this ex—”

        “Calum,” Adeline supplied.

        “Calum,” Dr. Boocz repeated. “What was it like, seeing him again?”

        Adeline didn’t even have to think about her answer. “Good,” she said, feeling a small smile quirk at the corner of her lips as her brown eyes met Dr. Boocz’s. Adeline drummed her fingers on the couch pillow she settled on her lap, considering her words. “I mean definitely unexpected, you know? But good. We, uh, talked and caught up a little and it just—it felt natural. Nothing felt forced. It had always been easy to talk to him.”

        “Why’d you two break up?”

        “He was a year older than me, so he left for college first,” Adeline answered. “At first we managed the distance. But then I went to college and we got even more far apart. You know—geographically. And that effected our relationship.” She dropped her gaze, looking down at the nude acrylics on her nails, which she had done for the wedding. She had to go to the salon. “We tried to make it work but we got so busy with school and having a relationship kind of felt like it was just another thing to do, I guess. It was a mutual break up and we just—never saw each other after that. I don’t think either of us meant for that to happen.” Adeline inhaled deeply. “At least I didn’t.”

        Dr. Boocz hummed, twirling her pen between her fingers. “What I’m hearing is, you two didn’t break up because you no longer loved each other. Circumstances just seemed to work against you.”

        Adeline sighed, gripping the pillow to her chest. “Yeah, I guess.”

        “Do you believe fate brought you to Calum’s bar after walking away from Ian?”

        Forcing her knee not to bounce, Adeline nodded. “I think so. It’s like you said about the glass being half empty or half full. I can see it both ways. Empty because of what Ian did—full because I reconnected with Calum.”

        “But what would you rather focus on?”

        “The glass being full,” Adeline answered, feeling a small smile quirk at her lips. She let her gaze wander around the familiar office, the baby blue walls always comforting. “I want to reconnect with Calum more. Not for, like, romantic purposes but because I miss him. I didn’t realize how much until I saw him. He’d always been a good friend before we started dating and I regret not reaching out to him before all of this. I feel like I wasted time with Ian after finding out what he was really in for and that’s not something I want to do again.”

        Her words may be harsh, labeling Ian as a waste of time, but Adeline couldn’t entirely bring herself to care. She was so unbelievably angry, so heartbroken, and she would rather deem him as a good-for-nothing than acknowledge him as someone she had, at one point, genuinely loved. Adeline had never been one to believe that someone could just fall out of love with another within a blink of an eye, always thought the heart was so much more complicated than that. But when she had overheard Ian’s conversation with Keith, it was like a switch had been flipped. He made her feel like an idiot, humiliated her—why should she spend another second loving him? Especially when he didn’t deserve it?

        She’d had a few days to think about it, and although Adeline knew it would take longer to get over it, to get the ache in her chest to ease up, she wasn’t regretful of her actions. Only that she let it get this far so blindly.

        “That’s good, Adeline,” Dr. Boocz said, a smile on her face as she nodded. “But I want you to keep something in mind.” Adeline raised her eyebrows, listening intently. “It’s okay to reconnect but make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons. Take things slowly. Don’t fall into anything serious, romantic or platonic, while in a vulnerable state. Think about what’s good for you in this moment and what would make you happy, and not depending on others to make you happy.”

        Adeline pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek, Dr. Boocz’s words swimming in her head. She knew her therapist was right, knew that she was in a vulnerable state and shouldn’t dive into anything. But Adeline genuinely believed there was no harm reconnecting with Calum; if their conversations at the bar were anything to go by, Adeline had felt comfortable and safe with him. But yeah; it would be foolish of her to fall into something new as she dealt with her relationship with Ian falling apart, especially after Aunt Lorraine’s death.

        Even if Calum wasn’t anyone new.

        The afternoon sun felt good on Adeline’s skin as she stepped up from the subway station and headed towards her street. Her music played in her ears as she walked down the sidewalk, Frappuccino in hand to sip from as she approached her house, only to stop in front of the three steps leading to the front door when she saw who was sitting on them.

        Adeline inhaled sharply as Ian stood up, a disgruntled scoff escaping him as he declared, “Finally. I’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes.”

        “What the hell are you doing here?” Despite the firmness in her tone, Adeline felt her heart beginning to quicken its pace, the sight of Ian not something she was prepared for.

        “Trying to talk to you,” Ian frowned, stopping just a few feet in front of her. She still felt like he was too close. “You left without a word, cleaned your things out of our place and you haven’t said shit to me. You have any idea how much you embarrassed me, Adeline, in front of all our friends and family? The fuck is wrong with you?”

        He took a step closer with every sentence, and Adeline’s grip on her cup tightened as she took a step back, teeth pressing together tightly. She wasn’t intimidated by him, by any means; she just didn’t want him too close, wasn’t comfortable with it. And despite the shock of his presence, Adeline didn’t lose her voice.

        “I embarrassed you?” she repeated incredulously, sharp eyes meeting his dark blue. How arrogant was he? “You’re the one who played me, who was only in it for the fucking money. I don’t care if people think I’m the bad guy—but I would be damned if I let you make any more of a fool out of me than you have already.”

        She found it in herself to walk past him, purposefully bumping her shoulder into his as she did so. But Ian grasped her wrist, turning her around as he demanded, “You’re gonna walk away from me, just like that? That’s how you treat people you love?”

        Holy shit—how delusional was he? Adeline genuinely wondered if he was living in some reality where he hadn’t done anything wrong, where she truly was the villain of this story. Adeline would’ve laughed at the surrealness of it all if she wasn’t so bewildered at his arrogance. Her jaw tightened and Adeline, without hesitance, successfully jerked her wrist out of Ian’s grip. He glared at her, one she returned with full ferocity, a fire burning in her eyes as she snapped, “That’s how I treat people who are scum. You’re a liar, Ian, and I refuse to waste another second on you. Get the fuck off my property before I call the cops.”

        The last thing she saw was the astonishment flash across his features, her harsh words slapping him across the face as she turned and stormed up the steps, keys already out to unlock the front door. Adeline didn’t look back, didn’t need a reason to, and slammed the door behind her before letting out a deep breath. She looked up at the ceiling, finally acknowledging the quick pace of her heart, exhaling slowly as she told herself to relax, to calm down. She had felt good about the words she had said, felt good in shutting the door in Ian’s face.

        It would take time, and it probably would be painful, but Adeline knew she would eventually move past the shit show with Ian. Closing the door on him was the first step.

*****

        Friday nights, unsurprisingly, were busy at the bar. Calum, although he hadn’t wanted to at first, had eventually decided to clear out some tables and chairs when it got really busy so patrons could take advantage of the space and dance to the music being played. He didn’t really care for it at first, but after a couple of broken glasses, he figured the cheapest thing to do would be to clear out the tables and chairs just for nights like these.

        He wasn’t bartending tonight, his two other employees staying busy, so he remained by the end of the bar as he chatted with his friends, though he kept an eye around the bar and was willing to step in should his employees need him to. As usual, people of all ages were frequenting the bar, mostly those in his age group, all ready to ring in the weekend after a long week of work. Calum stayed by his friends, sipping his beer, the enthusiastic atmosphere of the bar not one he wasn’t used to, obviously.

        “Hey, Cal—can I get another White Claw?” Crystal asked, and Calum gave her a quick nod before making his way towards the other end of the bar where her drink of choice was kept.

        He made sure not to get in the way of his working bartenders, the bar expectedly busy, and right when Calum stood straight after pulling out can from the small fridge on the ground, his eyes instinctively drifted over to the door. His heart stopped, the surprise momentarily freezing him in place when he easily recognized Adeline enter the bar. He found himself staring at her, blinking out of his trance only when Adeline’s eyes managed to land on his despite the people in between them, a small smile quirking against her lips under the red and purple lights of the bar splashing across her face.

        He watched as Adeline approached the bar and Calum stepped closer as well, another woman following behind her, and once she was within earshot, Adeline smiled, “Fancy seeing you here.”

        A smile lifted Calum’s lips through a scoff, arms folding on top of the bar as he raised an eyebrow at her. “I think that’s my line,” he returned smoothly.

        Adeline let out a laugh, one he hadn’t been able to hear much the last time they saw each other about a week ago. Her in front of him now, with that easy going smile on her face, made Calum feel a bit better than the last time she was on the other side of his bar. Patting the messenger bag hanging off her shoulder, she said, “I have your clothes.”

        Quirking an eyebrow, Calum felt his smile turn into a small smirk as he asked, “Is that all you came for?”

        “You make a mean Henny and Coke.”

        Calum laughed, a lightness in his chest, realizing that Adeline had brought a friend and he needed to go back to his. He stood straight, ticking his head over to the left. “You wanna join? I’m sure Mike and Luke’ll be happy to see you.”

        Her smile softened, straightening as well as she nodded and said, “Yeah, sure.”

        He made his way back down the bar, glancing over to see Adeline and her friend making their way through the mild throng of people. When he reached his friends, Calum handed Crystal her drink before nodding at Luke and Michael. “Look who I found.”

        Everyone looked to the left, and Calum watched as recognition instantly flashed across Luke and Michael’s features as they both put their drinks out and cheered, characteristically loudly, “Adeline!”

        Calum grinned, an amused chuckle escaping him as her eyes widened in surprise at their grand reaction, watching as they got up from their seats to wrap her in hugs. As that happened, Calum met Ashton’s gaze, who quirked a knowing eyebrow as he mouthed, “Adeline?” because he knew exactly who she was despite never meeting her. Of course Calum had told his best friend, the one he’d made in college, about running into his high school ex again. Calum kept a lot of things to himself—seeing Adeline again couldn’t hope to be one of them. His excitement had been almost childish, despite the circumstances.

        Once Adeline introduced them to her friend, Gabby, and she was introduced to the few people she didn’t know, Calum took it upon himself to prepare their drinks. He found himself glancing over in the couple of minutes he’d stepped away, watching as Adeline and Gabby animatedly chatted with his friends, Luke and Michael having given up their seats for the two of them to sit on. He looked at Adeline, who didn’t look as drained or hollow as she had the last time, a smile on her face that he enjoyed the sight of.

        “Cal told us you two ran into each other last week,” Michael grinned, leaning against the bar next to Crystal. “I thought he was just messing with us.”

        Calum rolled his eyes as he sipped his beer, watching as Adeline laughed and teased, “Calum’s a lot of things—I don’t think being a liar’s one of them.”

        “Hey, hey, don’t try to butter him up—you’re already getting free drinks,” Ashton joked with a shake of his head and a wave of his hand, eliciting laughter from the group as Calum flipped him off from where he stood at the end of the bar.

        Adeline’s jaw dropped with the laugh that escaped her before she moved with purpose. Calum watched, amused smile on his lips and eyebrows raised as she dug into her bag before producing a couple of bills that added up to the cost of her drink. She purposefully showed Ashton the money between her fingers, earning a dimpled grin from him before she leaned over Gabby and pushed the money in the front pocket of Calum’s jeans. He laughed as he watched her do so before she grinned at Ashton, “Drinks aren’t free, but the truth is.”

        Calum scoffed through a laugh, deciding he’d give her the money back later instead of doing so now and squashing the point she was making. Right now, although he was engaged in the conversations with his friends, Calum was still trying to wrap his head around the sight of Adeline sitting among them.

        It was dangerously coming close to how things used to be when they were back in high school, in addition to a few new friends, and it warmed Calum’s heart to see her so comfortable with them. She didn’t look like she was folding into herself, a bright smile on her face as she chatted and laughed and sipped her drink. When he realized he was admiring her for too long, too frequently, Calum tried to distract himself by finding things to do. He’d wash his gaze around the bar, making sure everyone was good, checked in with his bartenders to see if they were keeping up with the orders—really just doing his job to avert his gaze from Adeline every now and then.

        “Hey, Cal—we need another bottle of Absolut and one of Bacardi,” one of the bartenders, Bridgit, told him from where she stood making a margarita.

        Calum nodded. “I’ll bring ’em.”

        He excused himself from his friends and walked around the bar, heading to the door that led towards the inventory room. He offered smiles to the customers he recognized who frequented his bar enough as he went, using the key he kept on him to unlock the door.

        As he opened it, he heard Ashton say, “I’m surprised you managed to look away from Adeline long enough.”

        Calum rolled his eyes at the teasing tone in his friend’s voice, stepping inside the dark room. He switched the light on as Ashton followed him, and Calum muttered a resigned, “Here we go.”

        Ashton’s tone was conversational, a little too innocent as he said, “She’s sweet and very pretty. I can see why you dated her.”

        Wandering over to where the supply of Absolut was, Calum threw Ashton a frown over his shoulder before quickly looking away, grabbing for one of the bottles. “Those weren’t the only reasons why I dated her.” Why he felt the need to defend himself, he didn’t know. Ashton knew Calum wasn’t that shallow, yet the words still slipped.

        “Oh?”

        Calum did a mental count of how many of those bottles were left before moving onto find the Bacardi. They should still have a few of those sitting around. It was one of the kinds of liquor that went out fast. “We were friends before we ever got together. She was one of the only other people, back then, who knew me as well as Mike and Luke did. Probably more. When we got together, it felt. . .”

        Calum trailed off, jaw clenching as he grabbed the neck of the Bacardi bottle and pulled it out, feeling a tightness in his chest as he thought of the time he and Adeline were together and happy. It was all happy. Blissfully so, even if they had just been in high school.

        “It felt what?” Ashton asked, curiosity coloring his tone.

        Calum turned to face his friend once more, the words climbing up his throat, begging to let out. He thought of that first day he met Adeline: second period honors English on the first day of his sophomore year, and her freshman year, of high school, where they had been assigned to sit next to each other. She’d worn her silver framed glasses, hair tied into a French braid, looking like the prettiest girl sixteen year old Calum had seen. So he lifted a shoulder, voice drawn yet sincere as he answered, “It felt inevitable.”

*****

        One of Adeline’s favorite things about her job was that a majority of it could be done from home. She worked as a content editor for a popular fashion magazine—but mostly for the magazine’s online content, with a few projects in the physical versions. But because of her job, Adeline was able to do it from home on her laptop, not really needing to venture into the office where most of the other employees worked from. The only time she went was when there were important staff meetings or if her work was to be done on the physical versions—she preferred doing those in the office.

        She liked going into work; truthfully, Adeline didn’t really need a job, not with the inheritance she had from Aunt Lorraine. But her aunt had always told Adeline that working for her own money was something to be proud of, something everyone should be able to experience. It was why Adeline had many summer jobs as a teenager, anything from scooping ice cream to working in department stores. Just because she had money, doesn’t mean she couldn’t work for it, too.

        Besides, what the hell else was she supposed to do with her time? All of her friends had jobs, and she could only keep herself company for so long.

        But going into work lately had been somewhat of a challenge. Ever since she ran out of her wedding nearly two weeks ago, Adeline had become the topic of office gossip, given that several of her coworkers and boss had been in attendance. At this point, a lot of the talk was dying down—mostly thanks to Veera Waters, their boss, who had heard some employees not so discreetly talking about how trashy it was to run out of your own wedding, and berated them six ways to Sunday. Adeline had appreciated Veera stepping in because it put an end to any of the negative comments anyone was saying. It wasn’t everyone who felt that way, but Adeline didn’t need to hear it. She didn’t care what anyone else thought—but that didn’t mean she had a desire to hear any of it.

        “I need a vacation,” Adeline announced with a huff as soon as she sat down on the chair opposite of Gabby. She hadn’t need to stay at the office after the weekly staff meeting, so once she had her assignment, Adeline left to meet up with Gabby for lunch at one of their favorite spots by Bryant Park. “Badly.”

        Gabby smirked slightly as she sipped at her drink. “I told you, you should’ve just gone on your honeymoon instead of getting a refund.”

        Adeline snorted, arms resting on the rests of the chair as she crossed her right leg at the left knee. “Yeah, right. Spend a week in the City of Love by myself after breaking up with my fiancé? Fat chance of that happening.”

        An exasperated look crossed Gabby’s face. “Paris is the City of Love. Not Venice.”

        Of course Adeline knew that. “Not for me, it isn’t,” she retorted. She preferred the beauty of Venice over the beauty of Paris any day. Now she wouldn’t get to see it because Ian was a piece of shit.

        The waitress came by then, a familiar friendly face by the name of Holly, and Adeline rattled off her usual order while also asking for some wine. She needed it. “Seriously, though,” Adeline spoke up with a sigh. “I need to be out of this city so I don’t run into Ian. And I need to be out of cell range from the vultures.”

        Gabby made a face at the mention of those people. Adeline’s best friend knew first hand how money-thirty Adeline’s extended family could be. All the second cousins and great aunts or uncles who spent a lifetime trying to get on Aunt Lorraine’s good side to have a sniff of the money she had in her grasp. Now their attentions had shifted to Adeline, the sole inheritor of it all. And after talking to Aunt Lorraine’s most trusted lawyers, Adeline knew it was only hers to do with what she pleased. And she would be damned if she let it get in the hands of greedy family members who weren’t happy with the money they had and wanted to dig their claws in her deceased aunt’s vault.

        No fucking way.

        “What about the lake house?” Gabby suggested just as Holly returned with Adeline’s wine—and a basket of deliciously warm bread.

        Adeline’s stomach twisted at her friend’s question—one asked tentatively, she could tell. Picking up a piece of bread, Adeline tore it in half and reached for the little rectangle of butter. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly.

        Truthfully, Adeline hadn’t been to the lake house since she went to spread Aunt Lorraine’s ashes. Even though Adeline used to go to the lake house to spend weekend with friends, it was also the place she and Aunt Lorraine used to close themselves off to when they wanted to take a break from the city. It was their happy place where they spent time cooking, baking, swimming in the lake, visiting the small town it was near because sometimes they preferred that over the business of the city. But it had been two months since Adeline had been back, and although she yearned to go once more, she wasn’t sure if she was ready for it.

        “You wouldn’t be going alone,” Gabby assured her as she put down her glass. “We can make a trip out of it. Invite more people, if you want.”

        The idea was fun, Adeline could admit, and one she would’ve jumped at the opportunity for a few months ago. The lake house was full of happy, nostalgic memories, and Adeline knew Aunt Lorraine would want her to continue making more. Adeline offered a small smile to Gabby, bringing the piece of bread to her mouth. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

        It was a non-answer, but Gabby seemed to understand that was all she would get from Adeline and nodded in acceptance. When Holly returned with their food, Gabby asked, “So—Calum. What’s going on there?”

        Adeline glanced up from her plate of shrimp scampi, eyebrows knitting together. The jump in her chest at the mention of him wasn’t something she could totally ignore. “What do you mean?” Adeline returned, twirling the pasta around her fork. “Nothing’s going on anywhere. We only just reconnected.”

        “And are you gonna keep reconnecting?” Gabby questioned, a glint in her eye. With a teasing smile, she said, “If my high school sweetheart looked like that, I totally would.”

        Adeline felt her cheeks warm at Gabby’s reference of Calum being her high school sweetheart. Technically, he was. But hearing someone else say it was strange—and not in the bad way. Keeping her tone flat, Adeline said, “Do you really think I’m capable of pursuing something after ending it with Ian? Who I was with for three years, need I remind you?”

        Three years down the drain. God. Was any of it real? Adeline found herself wondering that more often than she liked. She wanted to be rid of him. To scrub her body clean of any trace of him. As much as she had loved him, as soon as the truth had come out, Adeline felt nothing but a burning anger when she thought of Ian, alongside the pain that came with a blindsiding heartbreak. Love was complicated but hate—hate wasn’t. And Adeline knew, despite spending years with him, loving him, her anger and hate won out.

        Gabby clicked her tongue with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not saying you have to pursue anything,” she said. “You told me you guys were friends before you dated, and from what I can tell, Calum seems like a really nice guy. Besides—” An almost excited glimmer appeared in Gabby’s eyes, a small smile dancing on her lips as she leaned forward. “Don’t you think it’s, like, wild how you left Ian only to end up at your ex’s bar? That shit’s from the movies.���

        Adeline swallowed her mouthful of pasta, lips twisting to the side. Gabby had only voiced exactly what Adeline had been thinking about since the moment she saw Calum. What were the damn odds of that happening? New York was a big city, sure, but to not have seen Calum for six years and only to run into him on her would-be wedding day? Adeline recalled her conversation with Dr. Boocz about fate, how Adeline herself wondered if that’s what this was.

        She found herself hoping for it to be true. No matter how cliché or fictional it seemed.

        But this wasn’t a movie. If it was, Adeline was desperate to fast forward to the end. Maybe then everything would stop hurting.

*****

        The looming brownstone looked almost exactly as it had the last time Calum had seen it years ago, except now the bricks were obviously weathered, but the greenery around the steps were bright and lively. He stopped in the middle of the small path leading up to the front steps, taking a moment to admire the house, the early afternoon sun making the bricks almost glimmer with the dew that still clung to them from the brief rain that fell early in the morning.

        For a moment, Calum wondered why he never stepped foot here until now. When he and Adeline broke up, it wasn’t like he never came back to the city—it wasn’t as though he didn’t know exactly where she lived. His own family didn’t live in the city anymore, having moved when he graduated high school. But Calum could’ve guessed Lorraine’s house was still here. Although his and Adeline’s break up had hurt, it was still mutual. They could’ve tried harder to be friends. If texting and FaceTime hadn’t been enough to keep together their relationship, maybe it could’ve kept their friendship intact. So why hadn’t they tried?

        Calum kind of knew the answer.

        As pathetic as it was. . . It would’ve been too difficult to just stay friends with Adeline right after the break up.

        But he could’ve tried. Which was what he—both of them, really—was doing now.

        Taking a breath, he headed up the few steps leading to the front door, raising a hand and ringing the doorbell. When Adeline had texted him, asking him if he wanted to come over for lunch, Calum had stared at his phone for a solid ten minutes, unsure if what he was seeing was real, before snapping into action. He was glad she wasn’t able to sense his eagerness through a text message that said Sure, sounds great.

        The door swung open, and suddenly Calum felt like he was sixteen again and he’d stood on this very doorstep to pick Adeline up for their first date. Back then, they’d taken the subway to Coney Island and had spent all day on rides and eating junk food that made their stomachs hurt later. It had been so worth it.

        Now, Adeline stood in front of him in jeans and a blouse tucked in, cheeks pink and a smile on her face that Calum realized, not for the first time, still tugged at his heart. Against the afternoon sun, Calum could make out the dozens of freckles that dotted her skin; across the bridge of her nose and spreading on the apples of her cheeks, while also spreading up to decorate her forehead. They had dated, they were re-establishing a friendship that had been absent for six years, but Calum wasn’t that prideful that he could never admit how beautiful she was. Undoubtedly.

        Her brown hair tumbled past her shoulders in waves, smile bright as she greeted, “Hey.”

        Calum returned it, finding it a lot easier to do so than he expected. “Hi,” he said as Adeline opened the door wider for him to enter. He stepped through the threshold, a scent hitting him that launched him into the past. His gaze landed on the dish of pasta resting on the glass coffee table—she was as obsessed with pasta as he was—alongside a dish of vegetable gratin, and even a little bowl of guacamole with chips. Calum felt a faint smile tug at his lips before he looked at the pasta once more. Glancing down at her with a quirk of an eyebrow, he asked, “Is that three cheese lasagna I smell?”

        A laugh escaped Adeline as she shut the door, her own gaze darting to a bag he held in his left hand. “Only if that’s wine.”

        His smile widened a bit as he pulled out the bottle of red. He’d asked Adeline if she wanted him to bring anything, and she’d suggested wine if he was in the mood to drink it, so he swiped up a bottle on his way over. He remembered she enjoyed drinking it when it was just the two of them hanging right in this living room and Lorraine wasn’t around.

        “Your wish was my command,” he told her, earning a laugh from her.

        “Oh, crap, I forgot the wine glasses. Sit, I’ll be right back,” Adeline said, gesturing towards the couch before she went down the hall and around the corner where the kitchen was.

        Calum put the bottle down on the table, but instead of sitting, his gaze wandered around the living room. It hadn’t changed much since he’d last been there. There was a staircase directly ahead of the front door, about ten feet away, and to the right was the living room with a burnt red sectional facing the TV that was placed in a wooden unit, surrounded by books and picture frames and trinkets placed in the shelves.

        Calum’s gaze caught on the pictures, many of them consisting of Adeline and Lorraine, with a few photographs of Lorraine with Adeline’s mom, and of a toddler Adeline with her parents before they passed. A tightness locked in Calum’s throat as he gazed at her young, smiling face. She’d lost all of these people, all of her parents. He foolishly, unrealistically wanted to get rid of all the pain she had suffered—was suffering through.

        Just when he was about to turn away, something else snagged at Calum’s attention, and he felt his lips curling when he noted the marks on the strip of wall next to the window that faced the street. It was right in the corner where the two walls met as he approached, a small huff of a laugh escaping him as he recognized the markings.

        They started when Adeline was four, each marking higher than the next, rising with her age. The last one was put when she was seventeen, putting her height at 5’4”. That was seven years ago.

        “I haven’t grown an inch since I was seventeen,” came Adeline’s voice, and Calum turned to see her enter with two wine glasses in her hands. She stopped in front of the couch, her light brown eyes taking in the sight of him, and Calum willed his heart not to betray him now. Her lips curved up. “You, on the other hand, look like you hit puberty three times over.”

        A short laugh escaped Calum, hand rubbing the back of his neck and, for fuck’s sake, was he blushing? He couldn’t remember the last time he did that—

        Alright, he could. It was in high school—because of Adeline, no less.

        “I’ve always been taller than you,” Calum pointed out, pushing aside whatever the hell was going on in his chest as he walked over to her.

        Adeline’s smile was teasing and Calum wasn’t sure if he was remembering the moments of when they were friends or more. “Yeah, but I never had to crane my neck to look you in the eye,” she said with a light laugh.

        True, but Calum had always liked the way his body towered over hers. He’d loved it when her arms would wrap around his waist and she’d rest her cheek against his chest, and he’d be able to rest his chin on the top of her head. He loved it and he missed it.

        Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wasn’t handling this too well.

        Clearing his throat, Calum sat down on the couch, Adeline joining him, and he looked towards the food again. Almost tentatively, he asked, “Did you master Lorraine’s recipe?”

        She glanced towards the three cheese lasagna that waited before them, a small smile dancing on her lips. Three cheese lasagna was one of Lorraine’s famous dishes, and she would make it every time she knew Calum was coming over when they were in high school. It had easily become one of his favorite dishes and he didn’t realize how much he missed it until now, until it was waiting for him and he could smell the delicious aroma.

        “According to her, I did,” Adeline told him, and he recognized the longing mixed with sorrow in her voice, though the small smile remained on her face. She picked up the plates, handing one to him as she said, “Let’s see what you think.”

        He made sure to get a little bit of everything Adeline had made onto his plate as she poured the wine, and Calum couldn’t help the small smile that danced on his lips when he brought a forkful of lasagna to his mouth, aware of Adeline’s eager eyes on him. The flavor exploded on his tongue, the taste of the cheesy pasta so achingly familiar, not even bothering to hold back the satisfied groan that escaped him.

        “This is fantastic, Adeline,” Calum praised, eyebrows rising as he looked at her, catching the relieved and thrilled grin on her face. With a smile, he told her, “You made Lorraine proud.”

        Her smile widened, and Calum knew he’d said the right thing. The two of them settled back on the couch, plates full, and as Adeline’s fork clinked against the plate, she said, “Go ahead. Ask me.”

        Calum looked at her. “Ask you what?”

        She shot him a knowing look, lips curving. “The question you’ve been dying to ask since I texted you about coming over.”

        If Calum had forgotten that Adeline knew him better than he thought, this would be a reminder. He scooped some guac up with a chip, looking down at his plate for a moment before meeting her patient gaze. She was right. There was a question in his head, begging to be asked, but he hadn’t wanted to jump the gun. But if Adeline already knew of his curiosity, might as well ask it.

        “How come you invited me over?”

        Her smile turned gentle, almost nostalgic, and Calum’s heart jumped. Her light brown eyes were sincere as she gazed at him, taking a deep breath before answering, “We’ve been. . . Out of each other’s lives for longer than we were ever in them. And that. . .” She frowned, giving a shake of her head. “I don’t like that. I hate that we just fell out of each other’s lives after we ended things, and I think it’s time we, you know, fixed that.” Her gaze turned almost hesitant, hopeful. “If you’re okay with it.”

        Adeline spoke quickly like Calum knew she did when she was nervous about something, wanting the words to get out before she could think twice about them. He noticed not because he noticed every little thing about her, but because he was hanging on to every word she said—hanging on to the fact that she, just like him, wanted to once again be a part of his life. To what extent, Calum didn’t know and he wasn’t about to ask. Not when this old thing was starting anew, not when she just left her fiancé. He was just so grateful that she seemed to be on the same train of thought as him.

        Then again, more often than not, they both always were.

        “I’m more than okay with it, Addie,” Calum told her, the nickname slipping out easily. Before he could talk himself out of it, he rested his fork on the plate and reached his right hand out, grasping Adeline’s left, and Calum wasn’t sure if that had been a good idea because as soon as his skin touched hers, the warmth spread through him like a wildfire, electricity sparking his veins and tingling to the tips of his toes. But he kept the easy smile on his face, focused on the way Adeline squeezed his hand, how hers seemed so small in comparison, and Calum’s heart was racing as he looked at her and told her what he’d been dying to say since the moment he recognized her in his bar. “I missed you.”

        He saw her throat work, her smile soft as she let out a relieved sigh. “I missed you too, Cal.”

        And then it was like there had been no time lost.

        As they ate, they talked about what had been going on in their lives for the past six years. He told her about buying the bar and starting up his business, and she told him the summers she spent traveling with Aunt Lorraine and getting a job at a top magazine. Calum told her about his dog, Duke, and Adeline had immediately said that next time lunch would be at his place so she could meet the little guy. They wisely stayed away from the topic of Adeline’s ex-fiancé and the whole wedding situation. Instead, they talked about moments of when they were in high school, the dumb shit they got caught up in—skipping out on classes or sometimes the whole day altogether, the soccer games he played in and she attended to watch. They even talked a bit about Lorraine, fond smiles on their faces and pain creeping into their eyes. He wanted to ease Adeline’s ache, wipe it from her face as they talked about lighter subjects.

        Too long. It had been too long since he saw her smile or heard her laugh. How could he have gone six years without it?

        As Adeline smiled against the rim of the glass, sipping her wine, something tightened in Calum’s chest. He’d never moved on from her, despite believing that he did. The years he spent in the beds of different women and in relationships that never went anywhere should’ve been proof enough. It didn’t click until he was right there, sitting with her, remembering all of the reasons why he fell in love with her in the first place. Dating her for a little over two years felt like nothing compared to the lifetime they’d assumed they had.

        A lifetime she was so, so close to spending with someone else. He tried not to think about it. Tried not to focus on the profound and selfish relief at that very fact not coming to fruition.

        Even if he wanted to break her fiancé’s nose for hurting her.

        Calum had been at Adeline’s place for over two hours already. They’d finished lunch and were sipping from their wine as Calum finished up telling her about a Coldplay concert he had attended a little while back with Luke, Michael and Ashton.

        “I can’t lie—I’m kind of jealous,” Adeline mused once he was done, sitting with her back against the arm rest, left leg folded under her as the right hung off the couch, facing him.

        Calum’s right arm was resting on top of the couch, left hand gripping his nearly empty glass. “Because of the concert?” he asked with a light laugh.

        “Well, that too,” Adeline replied with a gentle roll of her eyes. “But mostly because, I don’t know, you’re still friends with Luke and Mike after high school and you and I aren’t. Or weren’t,” she corrected, shifting nervously where she sat as the smile on Calum’s face slightly faltered. “I mean, obviously the circumstances were different but I just—I don’t know, I wish it wouldn’t have been painful to stay friends after we broke up, you know?”

        She stumbled over her words, but Calum understood what she was trying to say all the same. Of course, he did—he felt the exact same way. And it was a relief to know she shared that sentiment with him. “Yeah,” Calum said, his voice sounding rough in his own ears. He cleared his throat lightly before saying, “We can’t change the past, but I’m more than ready to make up for the years we lost.”

        Her smile brightened her face and Calum could never get enough of it. Adeline sat up, leaning forward and holding her glass up. “Here’s to unplanned, but wholly welcome, reunions,” she declared, grin wide and eyes glimmering. Calum clinked his glass with hers before sipping his wine, gaze never leaving Adeline’s as he drank.

        When it was nearing five, Calum knew it was time to go, given that he had a shift soon at the bar. He was reluctant to leave, stalling by helping Adeline in bringing all of the dishes back into the kitchen. If she knew that’s what he was doing, she didn’t comment on it. Too soon, she was walking Calum to the door, their time together—for now—coming to an end. In his hand, he held a bag with a couple of Tupperware inside, filled with the leftovers of the delicious food she’d made.

        “Thanks for lunch, Addie,” Calum said as he faced her, back to the door as he looked down at her.

        Adeline smiled, brown hair framing her face as she slid her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, shoulders lifting. “Thanks for coming,” she returned.

        A question danced on Calum’s tongue, one he hadn’t asked anyone in years—one that was reserved just for Adeline because it had always been their thing. He wasn’t sure if he should voice it now, but maybe the nostalgia, or the excitement of finally, finally, finally seeing her again got to him. So Calum tilted his head ever so slightly, a half smile curving at his lips as he lifted his chin a bit. “So, when can I see you again?”

        Adeline’s eyes widened, grinning lips parting as she gaped up at him in absolute delight. Calum’s stomach tumbled. “Oh, my God—you didn’t,” she laughed, leaning forward slightly as she did so as one hand ran through her hair. Calum joined in on her laughter, admiring the flush of her cheeks. It was probably the wine, but he hoped it was a little bit because of him, too. “Wow, that—I haven’t heard that in a while.”

        It was silly, silly thing between them, dating back to the night of their first date when they returned from Coney Island and Calum had walked her right up to this door. He’d asked her, then, when can I see you again? and Adeline humbled him by letting out a laugh, as if it was the funniest thing he’d said because who even asks that anymore? before giving a teasing response of, Monday morning, by my locker.

        Ever since then, whenever they had a date night and he would drop her home, he’d end the night with that question. Sometimes it had ended up with Adeline sneaking him up to her room. Most of the times, she would give the same response—

        “Inevitably, in your dreams.”

        Calum’s heart jumped to his throat when he heard her utter those four words, the same teasing glint in her eyes he grew familiar with years ago. It had been a promise between them, a reassurance.

        Who fucking knew it would become a reality for some nights for the past six years?

        Adeline was smiling, biting her lower lip. Calum’s mouth was dry. He hadn’t felt this way since, well, since Adeline. What a dangerous, dangerous game they were playing.

        Willing himself to snap out of it, Calum returned her smile with a breathy chuckle, fighting the urge to clear his throat and indicate just how much of an effect her words had on him. He felt warm as he stepped forward, holding his arm out as he said, “Bye, Addie.”

        She closed the gap by returning his hug, fitting right under his chin as Calum rested it atop her head, and he found himself closing his eyes as she invaded his senses. Adeline could probably feel his heart thundering under the cotton material of his shirt, but he didn’t care. All he could focus on was the aching familiarity of her body against his, even in a hug, how warm and fitting she was. The scent of coconuts danced in his nose—fuck, she even smelled the same, terribly dizzying.

        It dawned on him, then, how much he could miss her and only realizing the extent the moment he finally held her in his arms again.

        Calum wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, hugging each other for the first time in years. The past two weeks or so since she walked into his bar, they’d only seen each other three times in total, most of their tentative communication being done so through texts. They never got to hug—not until now. Calum didn’t think he’d be forgetting the way her arms wrapped around his waist any time soon. Not that he would want to.

        Eventually, they moved to pull away, but their movements were slow, stalling. And they didn’t pull away—not all the way. Adeline’s arms remained around Calum’s waist, only lifting her head off his chest, and he only moved his head to look down at her, his own arm still embracing her shoulders. They were close—close enough for Calum to count all of her freckles if they had the time, close enough for him to see the two flecks of dark brown in the right iris of her light brown eyes without the help of the sun, close enough to feel her breath fanning against his lips, just like he knew his was against hers as well.

        What are you doing? What the fuck are you doing? The voice in the back of his head was loud, insistent, most likely reasonable in its questions and yet Calum silenced it for now. He couldn’t think of anything but Adeline, her coconut scent wrapping around him like a childhood blanket as his forehead pressed against hers.

        He watched her gaze drop, watched as it landed on his lips as her eyelashes grazed the tops of her cheeks, their noses brushing together. It hurt—his heart hurt because of how heavy and tight the longing was, how desperately he wanted to close the remaining distance between them and see if her lips felt the same way they had when they were teenagers. The air between them crackled like it had so many years ago, and that had to mean something, right?

        Calum squeezed his eyes shut, jaw ticking as he clenched his teeth together. He couldn’t do this. He wanted to so badly—but he couldn’t. In those stretching moments, Calum felt like he was at war with his head and his heart, wanting to so desperately kiss her but knowing he shouldn’t. They’d just gotten each other back and Adeline—she’d just been engaged just a few weeks ago. He didn’t want their first kiss to be a result of overwhelming nostalgia, didn’t want there to be any lingering pain for Adeline. He wanted to do it right, if it were to happen again. And right now, this—this wasn’t right.

        His body roared in protest, but Calum kept himself grounded with a tight grip on the bag in his hand as he dropped his other arm from around Adeline, swallowing thickly as he pulled his head away from hers while murmuring a quiet, “I should go.”

        Adeline blinked quickly, arms limply dropping to her sides as she looked up at him. She seemed dazed, almost, before pulling herself back and Calum hated to see the disappointment she was hiding in her eyes. Adeline stepped back, her hands sliding down her thighs as she nodded. “Yeah, yeah,” she said, throwing a quick smile his way. Calum didn’t try to see if it reached her eyes, he already knew the answer. “I’ll see you later.”

        Calum nodded, turning away to open the door, the late afternoon sun now bathing the homes across the street in golden. He stepped outside, glancing over at Adeline once more as he said, “Bye, Adeline.”

        She smiled again, this time softer, holding the door as she gazed at him. His heart jumped at the look in her eyes, gentle and. . . Longing. “Bye, Calum.”

        He went down the steps, not looking back even when he heard the click of the door shut. The smell of coconuts followed him all the way home.

*****

        “So I did something stupid.”

        Dr. Boocz raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

        “Well, I almost did something stupid,” Adeline amended, twisting her lips to the side. “But it was something you definitely told me not to do. Remember how you told me to, y’know, take things slowly? After I told you I wanted to reconnect with Calum?”

        Realization flickered across Dr. Boocz’s face. “Yes, I remember.”

        Adeline chewed on the inside of her cheek, lips puckering as she scrounged up the courage to talk about what the fuck she’d almost done just two days ago. It was all she could think about, having blurted it out to Gabby when she’d gotten home from work that night. Her best friend had been both amused and unimpressed, saying something about how it was bound to happen. That hadn’t helped. Adeline had then proceeded to finish the rest of the wine bottle Calum had brought before drowning in her conflicted feelings. She wasn’t sure if the mild hangover the next day was because of the wine or her thoughts.

        “I invited Calum over for lunch and we got to talking. Just, like, reminiscing old times and stuff and catching each other up on the past few years,” Adeline explained, twisting her fingers in her lap.

        A small smile curved at Dr. Boocz’s lips. “And how was that?”

        “Really fucking good,” Adeline breathed out with a smile. And it had been—God, it felt so good to sit and just talk with Calum, to be in his company. She’d missed it, missed him, so damn much. How had she gone six years without it? She didn’t think she could do that again. “It felt like we never left each other. It was so comfortable and normal and just like it used to be. But then, right before he left. . .” Dr. Boocz remained silent, patiently waiting. Adeline let out a deep sigh, leaning back against the plush couch as she confessed, “We almost kissed.”

        Dr. Boocz raised her eyebrows. “But you didn’t?”

        “No,” Adeline answered, the word semi bitter in her mouth.

        Her therapist, of course, noticed. “How do you feel about almost kissing Calum?”

        Adeline swallowed, picking at invisible lint from her jeans. “Disappointed but. . . Also relieved.” Knowing Dr. Boocz was going to ask why Adeline felt like that, she continued on. “I want to move on from Ian, and even though it hasn’t been that long, I don’t spend every minute raging about what he did. But it’s still, like, fresh. And kissing Calum would just—it wouldn’t be smart,” she reluctantly admitted. “And it wouldn’t be fair.”

        “To him or to you?”

        “Both,” Adeline said with a shrug. “I don’t want to get into anything, serious or otherwise, without completely being rid of Ian and any lingering feelings I may have.” Her jaw tightened, the mere thought of her heard harboring any feelings for him making her irritated, even if it was expected. They’d been together for three years, after all—she had said yes to spending the rest of her life with him. “And Calum, he. . . He deserves better than that. I won’t do that to—I won’t hurt him.”

        Dr. Boocz considered her words before asking, “Who stopped the kiss from happening? You or Calum?”

        Adeline’s eyebrow quirked. “Calum.”

        “It’s important that you realize you recognized how kissing him could’ve complicated things,” Dr. Boocz said. “Thinking about both yourself and Calum and what the potential result of a spontaneous kiss like that could be is good work, Adeline. And in terms of you not wanting to hurt Calum. . . There’s a chance he may have stopped anything from happening because he understood where you were at. He respected you enough to stop before it got too complicated.”

        Adeline’s heart jumped at that. She could easily believe that, where Calum was concerned. He’d always been so receptive of others, could read them so well. Still, with a short laugh, Adeline dryly said, “Or maybe he just didn’t want to kiss me.”

        Dr. Boocz cracked another smile. “I don’t think even you believe that.” Adeline’s cheeks flushed and Dr. Boocz let out a gentle laugh. “You didn’t do anything stupid, Adeline,” she then said, responding to the statement Adeline had made earlier. “You were acting on your feelings—there’s nothing wrong with that. Everyone does it. My advice to you is still the same: take things slowly and focus on yourself, whatever that may mean for you, healthily. There’s nothing wrong with reconnecting with Calum. From what you said, he was an important part of your life, and seeking him out after losing another important part is normal—”

        “I’m not, like, trying to replace Ian with him or anything,” Adeline quickly said, hoping she hadn’t given that impression. That made it sound like Calum was some kind of rebound, which he absolutely wasn’t. He was. . . He was Calum. He belonged to a part of her life that was meant just for him, and now he was reclaiming it.

        “I know,” Dr. Boocz nodded and Adeline believed her. “Life just happened to work out this way when it led you to Calum’s bar after leaving your wedding with Ian. Calum was your friend before he was anything else, right? Finding a friend in him again is normal. If it evolves into something more, and if you feel that you’re confident in letting go of Ian, then you do what’s best for you.”

        Adeline rolled her lips into her mouth, nodding along slowly to Dr. Boocz’s words. She was silent for a moment, mulling over what she’d heard, before another thought crept into her mind, one she thought about often since seeing Calum again. Looking at her therapist, Adeline said, “I think about Aunt Lorraine a lot when I’m with Calum.”

        Granted, she’d only been in Calum’s presence less than a handful of times, but that didn’t make what she said any less true.

        Dr. Boocz tilted her head, a gentle softness in her eyes upon hearing the mention of Adeline’s aunt. “How so?”

        “She liked him a lot,” Adeline said, a small yet fond smile curling at her lips. “I didn’t date that many guys before Calum, but Aunt Lorraine didn’t think any of them were anything special. It was different with Calum. She. . .” Adeline bit her lower lip, a familiar ache clenching at her heart. “She wasn’t like that even with Ian.”

        “She approved of Calum.”

        “She did. They got along well—they were like friends, you know? Calum and I talked about her when he came over for lunch and it just—it felt good to talk about her with someone who knew her kind of like I did,” Adeline explained, thinking of the conversations they had. She remembered the fondness in Calum’s eyes as he talked about Aunt Lorraine, how she was the first adult in his life that let him have a beer in her presence, how she didn’t treat him like a child like every other adult in his life did. Aunt Lorraine was always popular with Adeline’s friends. It’s why everyone loved her.

        “I mean, I can talk to Gabby about her, but Calum had known Aunt Lorraine since he was, like, sixteen. There’s more history there so I feel like he just. . . He gets it more.”

        Dr. Boocz nodded along. “Is it easier to talk about her with him?”

        Adeline thought about it for a moment. In the dark of her room at night, of course the tears came a lot faster when she thought of her aunt, when she thought about the fact that she lost the only parent she’d ever known. She had been so young when she lost her parents and because of that, their loss, although sad, didn’t inject Adeline with a paralyzing pain. Not the way Aunt Lorraine’s death did.

        Talking to Gabby about Aunt Lorraine helped; her best friend had some of her own fond memories with the woman. But the pain always threatened to overwhelm Adeline. But even though she only talked about Aunt Lorraine, in depth, with Calum once, it had felt. . . Doable. The pain was present, but it didn’t burn her like all of the times before. She didn’t understand it, but she appreciated it, nonetheless. Maybe it was because of how much Aunt Lorraine adored Calum, and how it wasn’t one sided. She was the only parent Adeline had, and even before they dated, Calum had been determined to get on her good side. It had been effortless for him—it even took Michael and Luke a minute to get on Aunt Lorraine’s good side.

        So yeah. It was easier to talk about Aunt Lorraine with Calum. Everything, Adeline knew, had always been easier with Calum.

*****

Hey, I know it’s last minute but it’s Ash’s birthday tomorrow so we’re gonna be pregaming at the bar at 8 and then going to the Blue Ribbon if you wanted to come?

        The second Calum had sent that text the night before, he’d let out a sharp breath as the panicked voice in the back of his head demanded to know what the hell he was doing. He’d offhandedly asked his friends if it was alright if he extended the invitation to Adeline, and they all replied their agreements, and Calum had ignored the knowing looks in the boys’ eyes as he texted Adeline. When she had replied that she would be down to go, relief and nerves pinched Calum’s stomach.

        Truly—what was he doing?

        It had been a week since Calum saw Adeline—through no doing of their own. Work kept both of them busy, honestly, so they hadn’t been able to see each other since he had lunch at her place. Calum wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or not, after their almost-kiss. When they texted throughout the days, everything seemed normal; neither of them brought up what had happened, and Calum didn’t know if either of them would. He realized that he was fine if they didn’t talk about it. They could blame it on emotions running high after their proclaimed reunion, they could blame it on the wine, whatever. So long as it didn’t seriously fuck up them finally being in each other’s lives again, Calum was fine.

        That didn’t mean his heart didn’t jump every time her name flashed across his screen. He felt like a teenager again.

        It was nothing compared to the feeling of seeing Adeline walk into his bar around 8:10, tight black jeans with a mesh top hugging her figure as her brown hair fell down her back like damn waterfall. Her grin was bright as she spotted them at the bar, walking over as they all greeted her over the music playing and she gave Ashton a hug while wishing him a happy birthday.

        Adeline came to stand next to him, the heels she wore giving her some height, as she looked up at him with a smile. “Hey, Cal,” she greeted softly, bumping her hip with his.

        And just like that, any tension in Calum’s body eased as he returned the smile effortlessly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to pull her in for a side hug. Her own arm went around his waist. “Want a drink?”

        “Shots first!” Sierra exclaimed and upon everyone’s agreements, Calum lined up eight shot glasses and picked up the bottle of vodka, filling them up quickly and efficiently.

        They all clinked their glasses together, some of the drinks spilling over, before quickly downing them. Calum welcomed the burn in his throat that was already numbing, and as he put the glass down, he realized his arm was still around Adeline’s shoulders. Hers was still around his waist. Neither of them made the move to let go, and suddenly Calum’s body felt warm not from the alcohol he’d consumed, but because of the woman standing so close to him.

        He tried not to think too much of it. Though, that was a bit difficult given that Ashton, Luke, and Michael seemed to be eyeing them both knowingly. Calum regretted telling them of his slip up at Adeline’s house.

        They stayed at the bar for about an hour before deciding to head out to the Blue Ribbon, and Calum informed his assistant manager, of his departure before following his friends out of his busy bar. The eight of them, rather than taking an Uber, headed toward the 28th street station, going down the steps in a flurry of animated chatter with Metro cards in hands before waiting on the platform for the R train.

        They had a couple of minutes, and Calum’s gaze swept over to Adeline. She was leaning against a beam, a fond, somewhat tipsy smile on her face given that she’d taken a bunch of shots, listening to everyone chattering instead of engaging in it. Even standing there, under the harsh lights of the humid subway station, Adeline looked beautiful. So effortlessly did she rob Calum of his breath in a way no one had ever been able to, and Calum wondered if she was even aware of it.

        He walked over to her, leaning on the left side of the beam with his shoulder, peering down at her shorter frame. With an amused smile tilting at his lips, he asked, “You doin’ okay?”

        Adeline lifted her head and smiled up at him, a light laugh escaping her. “Totally,” she nodded and then huffed. “But it’s so hot in here.” Her brown eyes gave him a once over before meeting his gaze again. “How are you not sweating in that?”

        She was referring to the leather jacket he wore, which was a fair enough question. But the jacket was some kind of comfort that he wore when he went out on nights like these. “We’ll be in an air conditioned train soon, Addie,” he assured her with a chuckle.

        Adeline wrinkled her nose. “Unless it’s one of those shitty old ones that haven’t been renovated since the dawn of man.”

        “Oh, you’re not fun,” Crystal’s voice rang out, nudging Michael where they stood. Her blue eyes then found Calum and Adeline, and she brightened as she said, “Adeline—you’ll dance with us, right? Mike would rather be up there with the DJ than on the dance floor.”

        With a laugh that was drowned out by the approaching train, Adeline answered reassuringly, “Until my feet fall off.”

        The trip to the club wasn’t long, but the three minute subway ride seemed to drag on as he sat next to Adeline, their thighs pressed together, her shoulder brushing against his upper arm with every rattle of the train. But she was engaged in a conversation with Kaykay, and Calum was doing his best to not focus on how the warmth her touch gave him was much more preferred than the warmth of whatever alcohol was humming through his veins.

        Sometimes, he felt as though his lips were still humming from their near kiss.

        Calum clenched his hands into fists on top of his knees. He needed to get a fucking grip. He was losing himself; he could tell. And yet, even knowing that, he wasn’t that wary of it. All thanks to Adeline.

The short subway ride was followed by a five minute walk, and because they knew the right people, they were allowed right into the Blue Ribbon instead of having to wait in the queue outside. They walked up the steps and through the heavy drapes, the music thumping against the walls as they stepped into the main part of the club, the lighting an ever-present dim with the appropriate blues and purples flashing. Couches surrounded tables along the walls, and their group approached the one reserved for them as the women who worked there walked around carried several bottles topped with sparklers as people around them danced.

        As soon as they got to their table, the drinks were brought out, and when Calum moved to pour them for everyone, Luke swatted him away. “You’re always serving us, man. Chill,” he said with a laugh and Calum rolled his eyes, though the smile danced on his lips as he watched his friend pour more shots.

        The shots were taken right after cheering to Ashton’s birthday, their laughter nearly drowned out by the upbeat music blaring around them. Their table and sitting area were on a higher platform, but people were all around dancing, the DJ’s booth set up a few feet away to their left and the bar opposite of them, separated by dancing bodies.

        It didn’t take long for the girls to want to dance, and Calum watched with a small smile as Sierra grabbed Adeline’s hand and the two of them followed Kaykay and Crystal to dance, Ashton and Luke joining them. There wasn’t that much space right by their area on the platform, so his gaze trailed after them as they headed down the couple of steps for more room.

        “So—question,” Michael spoke up from where he sat next to him, sipping whatever mixed drink he created for himself. “Are you gonna ask Adeline out again, or are you gonna do what you did in high school and crush on her for two years before finding the balls to do it?”

        Calum pursed his lips after swallowing his own drink. He settled for a glass of whiskey that he planned to stretch out throughout the night. The shots they’d taken hummed in his veins and he could feel the lightheaded effects of them, but he didn’t plan on getting shit faced tonight, even if it was one of his best friends’ birthday.

        But he shot Michael a flat look, suppressing a sigh at the mention of his teenage behavior. He’d endured Luke and Michael’s teasing when it came to Adeline, fully aware of his feelings for her but never acting on them—until he did.

        With the rest of their friends busy dancing and the loud music serving as a tool for privacy, Calum let out a sigh. He looked down at his glass, the amber liquid looking darker thanks to the lack of light in the club, elbows resting on his knees as he ducked his head to mess with his hair. “I don’t know if asking her out would be a good idea,” Calum admitted, the words more bitter in his mouth than the drink he nursed.

        “How come?” Michael eyes, green eyes near translucent under the flashing lights. “Didn’t you guys, I dunno, have a moment the other day? Ask me, that’s not just a slip.”

        Calum licked his lips, tasting the spicy whiskey as his gaze wandered to where he could see Adeline dancing with their friends. He caught glimpses of her between people, but the smile on her face was too bright to ignore. Her brown hair danced with her and the lights made her skin glow—he couldn’t tear his gaze away. The day at her house. . . That wasn’t a slip.

        And maybe it was the sense of security Calum felt being in the blustering club, too loud and noisy. Maybe it was the fact that Adeline was too far away to have a chance of hearing Calum’s most inner, desperate thoughts. Or maybe it was that Michael, other than Luke, was the only one who knew Calum and Adeline’s history well. Maybe it was just the alcohol giving him courage.

        But Calum found his voice lowering, too quiet for this roaring setting, but enough for just Michael to hear as he said through a dry throat, “There’s never been anyone after Adeline.” He could feel Michael’s gaze on him, but Calum kept his eyes glued to his ex-girlfriend, who was laughing as Luke spun her around in a twirl. Calum was hit with the urge to go down there and dance with her. “Over these past few years, every time I tried to start something with someone new, I’d always go back to her. And now she’s back and I just. . . I don’t want there to be anyone else. Nothing felt right—not like my relationship with her did.”

        “If you knew what—who—you want, then what’s stopping you?” Michael inquired, not unkindly. His friends, Calum knew, sometimes had a hard time figuring him out. Truthfully, the boys were some of the very few people who knew Calum inside and out. They were who Calum was a hundred percent comfortable being himself with, and Adeline used to—still does?—fall into that category. Even so, sometimes his boys couldn’t quite decipher Calum’s feelings. Calum didn’t blame them; more often than not, he was in tuned with what and how he felt. But sometimes, even he couldn’t figure out what the fuck was going on in his heart.

        Calum took a sip of his drink. The whiskey didn’t even burn anymore. With a dry laugh, he told Michael, “She just broke off a three year relationship, Mike.”

        “Yeah, like, over a month ago.”

        Calum scoffed in mild amusement at the frankness of Michael’s tone. “They were going to get married. I don’t think a month’s long enough to just move on from that.”

        “Why don’t you let her be the judge of that?” Michael retorted with a raise of an eyebrow. “Besides, the guy ended up being a total asshole, right? Trust me—knowing you broke it off with a shitty person sometimes speeds up the healing process.”

        As opposed to breaking it off with someone you still loved—that sort of thing you didn’t get over. Ask Calum; he was still more or less—okay, totally—in love with the same girl after six years.

        Admitting that wasn’t as emotionally difficult as Calum would have thought. God, he was fucked.

        “Still—I don’t want to rush her or anything,” Calum said as a Travis Scott remix started playing. He frowned to himself then. “I’m not—I don’t even know if she would want to start anything with me. Being friends is one thing, but being in a relationship. . .”

        Calum trailed off, jaw tightening briefly as he watched Adeline sing along to the song, doing so right into Crystal’s camera as she recorded the two of them.

        He was vaguely aware of Michael watching him. Calum still couldn’t bring himself to look away from Adeline, and he heard Michael scoff. “Yeah, no. I don’t think you two can ever just be friends.”

        Despite himself, Calum snorted, lips curving wryly. He couldn’t help but agree.

        Their friends danced for a couple of more songs before they stepped back up onto the platform, smiles on their faces as Luke sat down diagonally of Calum and leaned forward to pour himself a drink. Adeline stood on the other side of the square table, hands on her hips as she looked down at Calum, unimpressed.

        “You’re so boring—why aren’t you dancing?”

        Calum was leaning back on the couch, drink still in the hand that rested atop his right knee, the ankle resting on his left knee. “When have I ever been known to dance, Addie?” he asked over the sound of the music.

        A small smirk tugged at her lips. Just like the rest of them, a thin sheen of sweat glistened on her skin from the dancing and she’d gathered her hair over her shoulder. “When you’re drunk enough,” she answered knowingly. Ashton snickered, muttering she’s got a point as Calum rolled his eyes. “You’re not—”

        Her words cut off and Calum’s foot fell off his knee, ready to stand to help her catch her balance as someone accidentally bumped into her. But Crystal was right next to her, grabbing onto her arm, as the guy who bumped into her turned to look over. “Oh, my bad, I’m—you’re shitting me.”

        Calum’s eyebrows knitted together as the guy, with dark hair and about as tall as Ashton, scoffed when his gaze landed on an equally unpleasantly surprised Adeline. Calum noted the way she took a step back as she looked at him, and upon hearing the stranger’s words, their table fell silent despite the lively club around them.

        Something twisted in Calum’s gut, having a feeling that he knew exactly who this guy was by the darkened look on Adeline’s face. His thoughts were only confirmed when Adeline merely stated tightly, “Ian.”

        Calum could sense all of his friends tense, exchanging looks, as Calum’s own body tightened. There was a sharp, blinding urge to put as much space between Adeline and her ex-fiancé as he could manage. His grip on his glass tightened; there was also an urge to throw it at the guy’s face.

        So this was the asshole who fucked Adeline over, who wanted her only for what was in her wallet and not for who she was. The mere thought seemed unfathomable to Calum, but he figured not everyone was like that. He hated that Adeline was involved with someone as, well, despicable as Ian. Hated that she almost married the guy.

        From what Calum could tell through the flashing lights of the club, there was no longing in Ian’s face as he gazed at Adeline. Just pure distaste and anger. Sure, it probably didn’t feel great to be left at the altar, but it was kind of hypocritical, wasn’t it? Given that he was only in it to fatten up his own bank account. Ass-wipe.

        “Adeline,” Ian returned, and Calum recognized the tight, mocking tone he spoke in. It only made him all the more tense, ready to jump in. “How’s single life treating you?” His gaze gave their table a once over, unimpressed, before looking back at her. “Run out on any more weddings?”

        Her response was quick. “Only the one with you at the end of the altar.”

        Ian’s lips curled and even though the music was pounding as loudly as his own heart, Calum still listened intently as Ian lifted his chin. “You sound pretty proud for someone whose family has apologized more to me than you did.” He clicked his tongue, the sound barely registering. “You’ve become such a disappointment to all of them.”

        Calum recognized the scowls on all of his friends’ faces, and Luke, who sat closest to where Ian stood, looked about five seconds away from kicking Ian’s feet out from under him. If Ian’s words had an effect on Adeline, she didn’t show it. “You think I care what they think? You and them—you’re all the same: greedy for wanting what you’ll never have.” Her jaw tightened, eyes sharp and unforgiving. “I’ve got nothing to apologize to you for. You were only looking out for yourself—you don’t get to be pissed that I did the same for myself.”

        There was a swell of pride in Calum’s chest as he listened to Adeline stand up for herself, to be utterly unapologetic for what she did. Leaving Ian when she found out the truth hurt her, Calum knew, but he also knew it was far better than remaining oblivious and going through with the wedding, only to find out the truth later. She had saved herself from more pain than what she already went through.

        The second Calum saw Ian’s eyes flash—and not from the trick of the lights—he was on his feet, glass on the table. He could feel some pairs of eyes on him, but his hardened gaze was on Ian as he took a threatening step towards Adeline and snarled, “I wasted three fucking years on—”

        “That’s enough,” Calum interrupted, arriving at Adeline’s side. She didn’t need him fighting her battles for her, he knew, but Calum couldn’t sit back and let this motherfucker talk to her like she was beneath him. He was physically incapable of it. So Calum took a step between them, and instantly Ian’s gaze went to him, the anger at Adeline and interruption not well received. Calum stared him down, jaw tight. “I’d walk away if I were you.”

        Ian scoffed, as if he couldn’t believe Calum’s audacity. Calum couldn’t help the slight machoistic and smug feeling of being taller than him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

        Calum felt a hand on his arm. “Calum—” Adeline started, not to give Ian his name but to probably tell Calum that it wasn’t worth it.

        But she didn’t get to finish, because recognition instantly flickered across Ian’s face upon hearing his name. He let out an unsurprised guffaw, clapping his hands together once as he looked at the two of them. Calum didn’t move, shoulders squared, as a new kind of aggravation settled in Ian’s eyes. Looking at Calum, Ian scoffed. “So you’re the infamous ex she’s been hung up over.” Ian clicked his tongue. Calum’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “Gotta tell you, man, you raised her standards a bit too high. But it seemed to work out for you two, didn’t it?” His hateful gaze flickered down to look at Adeline, who now stood at Calum’s side. Ian’s lips curled into a bland smirk. “Walked out of our wedding just to jump right back into his bed, huh? Doesn’t fucking surprise me in the least.”

        Adeline was tense beside him, and Calum’s own anger was simmering in his blood at the blatant disrespect. More than anything, he wanted to connect his fist to Ian’s jaw, wanted to knock him right on his ass for the way he was talking to and looking at Adeline. But he knew the second he did that, he’d lose Adeline’s respect. And no matter how much he wanted to break Ian’s nose, it wouldn’t be worth it.

        So he clenched his fists, fighting the urge, teeth aching from how tightly he was pressing them together. But there was deathly calm look in Calum’s eyes that presented itself in the anger he felt, his gaze never wavering from Ian’s. “Walk away, Ian. It would be the smart thing for you to do—trust me.”

        Ian’s lips curled into a sneer, harsh gaze remaining on Adeline before he stood straight. He let out a scoff with a shake of his head. “Don’t worry, I was just heading out. Wouldn’t wanna be caught dead in the same place as her.”

        And then he was gone, and Calum’s blood was still boiling. But he focused on Adeline instead, who was still staring after the direction Ian had walked and disappeared from, and he couldn’t get a good read on her expression. Adeline took in a sharp breath then, blinking as if she was tying herself back into reality, and looked past Calum towards where their friends were silently sitting.

        “I’m so sorry about that, you guys,” Adeline said, her voice thick as she looked at all of their worried faces. Calum knew, just then, she was holding back her emotions. The encounter affected her more than she was letting on. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Just—please—don’t let it screw up this night.”

        Calum had the urge to hold her hand—to hold her—when he realized Adeline needed the reassurance that what just happened didn’t, in fact, mess up anyone’s mood. And Ashton seemed to realize that, too, as he spoke up in that reassuring tone of his, “It didn’t, Adeline. You’ve got nothing to apologize for. We’re not gonna let some asshole ruin the night.”

        And given that this night was to celebrate him, Ashton’s words seemed to have a calming effect on Adeline as her shoulders sank a bit, a small smile on her lips. “I’m, uh,” she ran her fingers through her hair, taking a breath. “I’m gonna get a drink from the bar.”

        She turned quickly, walking off the platform and towards the bar. Calum kept track of her as she went, his jaw still tight, as he heard Kaykay ask, “Is she alright?”

        Calum glanced back at them, pursing his lips. “I’ll check on her.” He turned to go before pausing and looking at them once more, gesturing vaguely with his hand. “Just—don’t look so focused on her. Dance. Drink. Pretend that shit didn’t just happen.”

        He left then, wandering down the steps and making his way through the crowd as he approached the bar where he caught Adeline leaning against it. Calum was vaguely aware of a guy or two nearby glancing over at her, probably debating on whether to approach her. He killed their train of thought by sliding up next to her and asking, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

        Adeline faced him, left elbow propped on top of the glass bar as she looked up at him with eyes glimmering with unshed tears. Angry tears. “I want to rip his eyes out with my bare hands,” Adeline seethed, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her this pissed off before.

        Calum glanced down at her fingers, noting the pointed ends of her maroon painted nails. “You’d be able to do some damage,” he pointed out with a quirk of his eyebrows.

        “I mean—” Adeline scoffed in disbelief, before looking away and sniffling, shaking her head. “Who the fuck does he think he is? Treating me like I’m the bad guy in this whole thing? He hasn’t even fessed up to his bullshit manipulation even though I heard him myself and he’s trying to make it seem like I ran out on him without precedence?” The incredulity was heavy in her voice as she ranted quickly, and if Calum dug deeper, he could hear the hurt, too. But none of it was as prevalent as the anger. “And then bringing you into it—God, I hate him. I really think I do.”

        The bartender placed a drink in front of Adeline. Calum recognized it as Hennessy and Coke. Looking at her, he said, “No one would blame you if you do.”

        Adeline’s hand wrapped around the glass, another scoff escaping her, this time with a wry smile. “No one except for my beloved family,” she said. Calum clenched his jaw. There was a reason why Calum only ever met one other member of Adeline’s family. The rest were, like she always said, vultures. No wonder they sided with Ian in this whole ordeal. Adeline’s jaw worked as she looked down at her drink, shaking her head absently. “Aunt Lorraine was right. I never should’ve let it get so far with Ian.” She brought the glass up, sipping through the straw before muttering absently, “Total downgrade.”

        Calum wasn’t quite sure if he was supposed to hear that, but he did even over the sound of the thumping bass, and it had his heart skipping a beat as he watched her. Suddenly he felt as though he needed a drink, shuffling closer to Adeline when someone bumped into his back.

        The movement had Adeline looking up at him, throat working. “You didn’t have to jump in but, um, thanks, Calum. I appreciated it,” she said, her words bringing him a sense of relief he didn’t know he needed. He was just glad she wasn’t bothered that he got in between them.

        He offered a half smile, lifting one shoulder. “It was instinct,” he told her truthfully. Adeline’s gaze met his again, and Calum’s chest felt warm. “Someone was being a dick to you—I couldn’t just sit and watch it happen. I know you’re capable of defending yourself, but it doesn’t mean you have to.”

        She smiled then, grateful and adoring. They were silent for a moment, watching the ongoings around them, and Calum kept his gaze away because he could feel Adeline’s on him. Keeping his expression neutral had never felt so difficult. “Thanks for not bringing it up.”

        He dragged his gaze back to her then, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Bringing what up?”

        Adeline smiled wryly. “What Ian said—about you being the ex I’ve been hung up on.”

        Calum had a feeling if Adeline really focused, she’d be able to hear the way his heart picked up even under all the noise of the boisterous club. That statement from Ian hadn’t slipped Calum’s mind, turning it over and over as he already started analyzing it. Although his posture was casual—slightly bent to rest his right elbow on the bar top, leaning against it—Calum felt anything but.

        Somehow, he found the nerve to ask, “Was there any truth in what he said?”

        He could’ve sworn he detected some nervousness in her gaze as she peered up at him, free hand fiddling with the thin black straw in her glass. “What do you think?” she asked instead.

        “I don’t wanna answer that,” Calum told her with a short chuckle. “It’ll only make it sound like I’ve got an overinflated sense of self-worth in your life.”

        His response, for whatever reason, made Adeline grin around her straw, lifting her chin as she kept her gaze on him. She pushed herself away from the bar, moving to walk past him into the direction of where their friends were. But she paused briefly to say, “Your sense of self-worth in my life is exactly what it is.” Calum’s teeth pressed together, inhaling sharply as that glimmer returned in her eyes. Her smile was teasing, but her eyes were honest. “It might actually be more.”

        And then she was walking, and Calum was left staring at her dumbly for a moment. He was an idiot if he ever thought he’d move on from her.

        He joined all of them quickly after, and the night fortunately continued as if Ian’s interruption never happened. Calum even let Adeline drag him onto his feet to dance some, ignoring the need to have her closer to him than she was while they danced.

        Most of the night, though, they spent at their table with glasses in hands and their chatter creating a cacophony with the music playing. Adeline ended up sitting on top of the couch, leaning her back against the wall the couch was up against. And Calum was sitting on the couch itself, glass once again in hand as he leaned back on the couch, his body framed by Adeline’s legs.

        Nobody blinked twice when Adeline’s fingers started playing with Calum’s blonde hair, the dark roots gradually growing in. Nobody found it odd that when Adeline wanted to speak directly to Calum, one of her hands found its way under his chin from where she sat above him, and gave his head a tilt until he was looking up at her and she was leaning down to speak to him over the loud music, her hair sometimes framing them—shielding them from others’ views. Nobody made comments when Calum’s left arm wrapped around Adeline’s left leg, fingers trailing from her knee to her ankle and up again through the material of her pants.

        It looked right. It felt right. So they let it be.

        And Calum, for the first time in six years, felt what it was like to once again be complete.

*****

        The smell of earth—damp mud and wet grass—tickled Adeline’s nose as a gentle breeze kissed her skin where she stood on the spacious back porch of the lake house. She gripped the wooden railing as she took in the lake before her, glimmering under the early afternoon sun, the leaves of trees surrounding it whispering against one another in the wind. The smell of the city after a rain shower was different than the smells that rose at the lake house—and Adeline had missed this.

        She kind of hated that she had hesitated so much on returning here since emptying Aunt Lorraine’s ashes, but after the shit show on Ashton’s birthday with Ian last week, Adeline’s need for a vacation had multiplied tenfold. And the only place she could think of to go to was the beloved lake house. She didn’t want to go alone, though, so she told all of the guys and the girls to come if they wanted. The lake house had five bedrooms because this had been a place where Aunt Lorraine would come to with her friends for mini girls trips—it was one of the reasons why she bought it, other than to get out of the city with Adeline when it got too much—so there was enough rooms for all of them if they shared.

        They were going to make a long weekend out of it, arriving on Friday and then leaving Sunday. But because nobody had been at the lake house for two months, Adeline figured there would be some cleaning to do despite most of the furniture being covered in sheets. So she drove the hour and a half drive out of the city on Thursday, a whole day before everyone was set to arrive, to tidy the place up.

        And adjust to being there without Aunt Lorraine.

        Adeline had already gotten started in cleaning up the living room and kitchen, putting away the sheets that covered the couches and tables and using the appropriate supplies to rid of any dust that had settled. The lake house was lovely, built with wood and stones of different shades of brown and grey, wooden beams supporting the structure. The walls of the living room had large windows that gave a view of the lake in the back, smaller windows in the connecting kitchen to provide the same view. There was no formal dining room, instead a picnic bench style dining table was set up in the living room.

        A TV was mounted on the wall with the fireplace underneath, and in the corner was a liquor cabinet Adeline had stocked upon her arrival—along with making sure the fridge and kitchen itself had food and drinks for her and her friends. She’d connected the TV to Spotify and was playing music to fill the silence while she cleaned, knowing if it was too quiet, she would lose herself in nostalgic thoughts she didn’t quite want to revisit.

        Adeline was about two hours into cleaning when, through one of the further back windows, she saw a car pull into the driveway. She shut off the vacuum, eyebrows furrowing together at the unfamiliar vehicle, before her heart jumped at the sight of Calum stepping out. She had given all of her friends the address of the lake house, but they weren’t due until tomorrow.

        Hastily, Adeline approached the door, pausing to peer down at her denim shorts and oversized grey Santa Cruz hoodie in a moment of insecurity. It left as quickly as it came, realizing that Calum had seen her at her worst while they were dating and, well, it was Calum. So she opened the door right as he was about five feet away from it, a duffel bag hanging off his shoulder.

        “You’re about a day early,” she said by way of greeting, though there was no stopping the smile from growing on her face.

        Calum chuckled, the sound raspy and delicious, as he stepped through the threshold. “Didn’t feel right, letting you come here and clean the place up by yourself.” She closed the door and watched his brown eyes take in his surroundings, doing her best not to focus on the sharp line of his jaw as he let out a low whistle. “It looks exactly the same.”

        “It feels the same, too.”

        Calum quirked a dark eyebrow. “Was it supposed to feel different?”

        Adeline offered a small, almost sheepish smile, playing with the sleeves of her sweatshirt. They were long and she’d had to scrunch them up to her elbows to work efficiently, but it was one of her favorite sweatshirts. It brought her a calming sense of comfort. “I was kind of expecting it to feel. . . Haunted,” Adeline admitted, her gaze darting around the place. There was a tightness in her chest, not painful, but still present. “But it doesn’t. It—it feels like home.”

        And it did. It felt home in the way the paintings Aunt Lorraine liked were still hung up on the walls, or in the way there were still candles set up on the ledges around the place that her aunt always loved lighting. Little touches of Aunt Lorraine were still all around the lake house, and even though she wasn’t physically there, Adeline still knew she was.

        “I’m glad to hear that, Addie,” Calum said, looking at her once more. “I—”

        He cut himself off as he gazed at her and Adeline blinked at the look on his face. Her breath caught at the way he stared at her—a way that was so intimately familiar and one she felt her heart flutter at the sight of. Adeline had absolutely no fucking clue what was going on between the two of them, but every time she thought about it—about him—it made her feel like that teenager again. She’d missed that feeling so much.

        When she was about to ask Calum if everything was okay, he beat her to it, his accented voice slightly thick as he stated, “That’s my sweatshirt.”

        Adeline looked down at herself, as if just realizing what she was wearing and, in a way, she was. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized that he was right—this sweatshirt was Calum’s, one she’d all but stolen back when she was eighteen and still his girlfriend. It had ended up with her at college, and Adeline never thought to give it back after they’d broken up. Could never bring herself to, so she kept it.

        She didn’t think he’d remember. It had lost his smell a long time ago.

        “Oh,” Adeline breathed, looking up at him once more. The look in his brown eyes—it was too much but it was everything. She didn’t know what to do with and she knew that he didn’t, either. She kind of felt awkward, but the way he was looking at her made her feel so warm. “Sorry I never gave it back—”

        “Don’t be.” Calum cleared his throat, blinking away the glimmer that had found its way into his eyes, replacing it with that boyish half smile that had her stomach flipping. Suddenly, he looked like that sixteen year old boy she met in second period English. “It always looked better on you, anyway.”

        If they flirted anymore without acting on it, Adeline was positive she’d burst into flames. Or tears. Either one.

        “Come on,” Calum ticked his head, the smile still on his face. “We’ve got some cleaning to do, yeah?”

        Adeline was more inclined to jump his bones but yeah, sure. Cleaning would do.

        He put his things away in one of the bedrooms since they had to clean upstairs anyway. There weren’t any sheets on the beds or pillows, so they got some from the linen cabinet and worked on two rooms each, the music that was playing on the TV downstairs filtering upstairs, too.

        One of the rooms Adeline was in was Aunt Lorraine’s old bedroom, and Adeline was surprised it didn’t hurt too much to be in there. Maybe it helped that none of Aunt Lorraine’s personal effects were in the room, other than decoration pieces. Besides, Adeline was already living in their house, had already found her way back to the lake house—the pain was there, sure, but it didn’t feel as paralyzing. Dr. Boocz would call that progress.

        Adeline cursed under her breath as she knocked her foot against a cardboard box poking out from under the bed, but she didn’t pay it any mind until she had the sheets on the bed and pillow. Once she was done, she pulled the box out, eyebrows furrowed, as she sat on the floor and leaned her back against the bed. The box wasn’t taped shut or anything, so Adeline opened the flaps and peered inside, eyebrows shooting up as she caught sight of a red photo album—one that had Adeline written across the front in gold cursive.

        She recognized the photo album; it was one Aunt Lorraine had kept since she was a child—since she had come to live with her after her parents’ deaths. Adeline waited for the burst of pain to shoot through at the thought of her aunt making this album, but it didn’t come. Instead, there was a warmth in her chest that she labeled as fondness, and a small smile curved at her lips as she opened it.

        The pictures started with Adeline as an infant, photographs she figured her mother had probably sent Aunt Lorraine. The pictures went as Adeline grew up, going from infant to toddler and so on. The smile remained on Adeline’s face as she looked at them, looked at the photos of her with her aunt and the genuine happiness on both of their faces, and she missed her. So much.

        She turned the page and suddenly the pictures weren’t just of Adeline or of Adeline with Aunt Lorraine—but of Adeline with her friends. A shocked laugh burst through her lips at a picture of her with three familiar boys, her frame already too short next to the giants looming over her.

        At that same moment, Adeline heard Calum’s voice. “Addie? You in here?”

        “Down here,” Adeline responded, raising her arm so Calum could see her sitting on the other side of the bed. She heard his footsteps, glanced up to see his tall body towering over her even now, raising his eyebrows.

        “What’re you doing?” he asked, gaze shifting to the album. “What’s that?”

        Calum sat down next to her on the floor, bringing his knees up as she peered at the album. A curse escaped him, eyes widening as he looked at the picture of the two of them, plus Michael and Luke, standing together and smiling for the camera. The photo was from the school block party that was thrown at the beginning of every year. “That seems like a lifetime ago.”

        He sat close to her, his woodsy, pine scent embracing her like a warm hug as she flipped through the pictures. It was strange seeing photographs of Calum without his tattoos—even if, for a long time, that was the only image she had of him. As opposed to now—much taller, ink coloring his skin, hair a different color and length as well. Everything about him was different and yet everything about him was the same.

        “These were all taken before you hit puberty the second time,” Adeline mused, wanting to keep the air light as she turned the page. They were getting to pictures taken when the two of them had been together.

        Calum chuckled next to her. “Exactly how many times do you think I’ve gone through puberty?”

        Her voice was serious as she answered, “At least three.”

        He laughed again, and the sound threatened to raise goosebumps along her skin. Adeline turned the page and Calum sucked in a breath as he said softly, “Oh, shit.”

        She immediately knew what he was looking at; the picture from his senior prom. The two of them had attended two senior proms, of course; one from when Calum was a senior, and then when Adeline was a senior in high school, and he was a freshman in college. He’d come back to town to take her to prom. The picture was taken in front of Adeline’s house on the steps, her in a long silver dress that shimmered even in the picture and Calum looking wickedly handsome in his black tux. Both grinning, arms around each other, looking every bit like the high school sweethearts everyone assumed would last forever.

        If their school crowned prom king and queen, Adeline always knew—admittedly arrogantly—that they’d win.

        Silence befell them as they looked through the pictures; next came Calum’s high school graduation picture in his blue cap and gown, diploma in one hand and the other wrapped around a proudly grinning Adeline. The next two pictures came in the same order; first of Adeline’s senior prom—this time she wore a royal blue dress—and then her own graduation picture, dressed in her cap and gown with Calum standing behind her, arms wrapped around her and a grin just as proud as the one she’d worn for him.

        Something in Adeline’s heart tugged, realizing they’d reached the end of the album, because after that, there hadn’t been as significant moments between them to capture—they had broken up just a few months into Adeline’s freshman year at college. That was where their story had ended. Until now.

        Adeline closed the album, hand resting on top of the smooth velvet of it as she tried to rid of the dryness in her throat. She was acutely aware of the man sitting next to her—the man who’d been a boy in the pictures they just went through. Her heart was flipping tumultuously in her chest, and she wondered if Calum was feeling the same thing, or any semblance of it.

        His warmth still seeped into her body from their closeness, his scent still around her, and Adeline tried to work up the nerve to look at him, half afraid whatever was raging inside her was just for her and he didn’t share in it.

        Because in her heart and in her mind, Adeline knew that this wasn’t just fondness for the past acting up. She knew she wasn’t in some vulnerable state and letting her emotions get the better of her. She knew that whatever she was feeling, she was valid in feeling it. Because Calum—he wasn’t just anyone. He was exactly what she needed, what she wanted, and Adeline could feel the anxiety creeping up on her that it was unrequited.

        She finally looked at him, her brown eyes meeting his darker ones, and the breath caught in her throat. He was so close—she could count all of his unfairly long eyelashes, could imagine the scratch of the stubble on his chin and around his mouth, could feel the slight brush of his curling hair against her forehead. Was he waiting for her to say something? That could take a while—Adeline seemed to have lost all coherent communication skills.

        Calum’s lips, so soft and pink, parted but he didn’t say anything. She could see from the subtle twitch of his eyebrows that he wasn’t sure what to say, either. But she waited. He’d always been the more articulate one of the two of them. His throat worked and then Calum rasped in a quiet voice that wasn’t meant to disturb the silence of the house, “When can I see you again?”

        A startled, adoring laugh threatened to burst out of Adeline, but she kept it down. Her heart was beating wildly—could he hear it? She knew exactly what he was asking of her, and Adeline could fucking cry from relief. But she didn’t. Instead, she took a breath, voice shaking with yearning and anticipation as she whispered, “Now. You can see me right now.”

        She saw the profound relief that crossed his face before he leaned forward, because of course by see he meant kiss and of course Adeline knew that as she met him in the middle, eyes slipping shut, and finally kissed the only man she ever truly, undeterredly loved for eight years.

        It felt like coming home.

        Calum’s lips were as soft as she remembered, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek and pull her towards him. Everything else slipped away except for Calum as Adeline sensed him lower his legs and draw her closer, and Adeline shifted until she was straddling his lap, hands gripping the front of his shirt. He kissed her like he would die if he didn’t, his touch warm against her as he deepened the kiss and, God, how had she gone so long without this? Without him?

        Calum’s hands dropped to the back of her bare thighs and, in one swift movement, gripped her and stood to his feet. The kiss never broke as Calum lowered Adeline carefully onto the mattress, his body between her legs as he hovered over her.

        He broke the kiss and Adeline’s heart was pounding, vaguely aware of the music still playing throughout the house—a Hozier song. But her focus was on Calum on top of her, the warmth of his body and the way her lips hummed from his kisses. His darkening blonde curls fell over his forehead as he looked down at her, his own lips pink and kissed, and he looked absolutely perfect. The tightness in Adeline’s chest eased and she couldn’t possibly begin to describe what she felt in that moment—what she’d been feeling since the second he kissed her. Home. That’s what he was to her. And she’d been away far too long.

        “I wanna say somethin’,” Calum spoke, his voice low and gruff as his nose brushed against Adeline’s. His hooded gaze was on her lips, his jaw popping briefly. “But I don’t want you think I’m only saying it because of—this.”

        Adeline didn’t think her heart would calm down any time soon. Her hand reached up, brushing back some curls from his forehead before cupping his cheek, her smile soft when he leaned into her touch. The back of her mind whispered its guess of what Calum wanted to say, but she needed to hear it from his voice. Her own tone dropping to a breathless whisper, she said, “Say it.”

        Calum’s gaze lifted so his brown eyes could lock with hers, lips parting as he took in an unsteady breath. His eyebrows twitched together, and Adeline knew he was working up the nerve, and she waited patiently with a thundering heart. And when he finally spoke, his voice was soft, but firm with absolute truth. “I love you.” Adeline sucked in a sharp breath and she wondered if he could feel the way her hand trembled against his cheek. A soft smile tugged at Calum’s lips, never breaking their gaze. “Never stopped, if I’m being honest. If there’s one thing I regret, it’s not coming back for you.”

        There was a sting in Adeline’s eyes and she didn’t want to cry, but Calum’s words had more of an impact on her than either of them could’ve guessed. Her heart was thundering under her chest as she looked up at him. “I think,” she began, her voice a shaky whisper as she tried to find the right words. “I think I was blinded by whatever sense of security I thought Ian gave me—so much that I almost went through with the biggest mistake I could’ve made.” Adeline’s throat worked as Calum hung on to every word she said, her lips curving up in a small smile. “But the truth is, it’s always been you.” A breathless laugh escaped her, hand sliding from her cheek to the back of his head, fingers tangling with his hair as a smile grew on his lips. “I love you, too.”

        He laughed then, too, breathless and overwhelmed as she was before closing the gap and kissing her, setting a fire in Adeline’s veins as she pulled him closer.

        They moved together, reacquainting themselves with each other’s bodies effortlessly as kisses broke only to get rid of the offending clothes. Adeline’s hands slid over Calum’s body, fingers dancing over the ink on his skin, feeling the muscles shift and flex under her touch as he kissed her deeply. The press of his bare body against hers, the unobstructed warmth as he touched every curve, was so, so wonderfully familiar but excitingly new, and Adeline couldn’t get enough.

        They touched each other like it was the first time and last time, finding home in the swells and dips, not mourning what they missed by welcoming the sense of belonging they found in one another. Every kiss, every touch, every drag of hips was slow but desperate and purposeful, her soft sighs and his deep groans a cacophony with the music still playing throughout the house. Calum’s rings chilled her skin that was deliciously scratched by his stubble and her nails dragged down his back seductively, needily, and it was everything they could’ve hoped for and more.

        Adeline craved him; his kisses and his touch and the way he fit so perfectly and, fuck, how’d she go so long without any of this? Even back in high school, Adeline knew Calum was someone special, way before they started dating. She knew he was someone she wanted in her life in any way he could exist. How fucking stupid to have let him go, to live six years without his smile and laugh and company and touch?

        Never again.

        They lay on their sides after, spent and breathing back to normal, legs tangled together under the sheets as Calum’s fingers played with hers. There was a pinkness in Calum’s cheeks, resembling her own, as she watched him watch the way their fingers lightly, gently played against one another’s. An unrecognizable ballad was playing softly throughout the house, but Adeline paid it no mind, too focused on the man laying before her.

        He loved her. He still felt the same way about her, and it was everything. The years and distance between them didn’t matter, not when being with him felt so right, like it was exactly where she was supposed to be. They found each other once again, after so long, and this time Adeline would be damned if she ever let this, ever let him, go.

        “It feels like nothing’s changed,” Adeline said softly, not wanting to disturb the intimate quiet between them.

        Calum’s eyes met hers, one corner of his lips curving up. “One thing’s changed,” he said in a low voice, and when Adeline quirked an eyebrow, he continued, “I know what life’s like without you. And it’s not something I want to experience ever again. It was—I hated it, Addie, being away from you. Not knowing where or how you were. Every day that I didn’t try to reach out to you—I hated myself for it.”

        Adeline didn’t want to dwell on that—both of their refusal of finding the other. She knew his reasoning was the same as hers; too afraid to disrupt the other’s life. And it was that fear that kept them apart, but no longer. There was nothing keeping them apart, nor would there be. Spending a life without Calum seemed unfathomable, and Adeline had no interest in doing so.

        “We’re here now,” Adeline said, moving her fingers so they threaded through Calum’s, holding his hand. “If there’s one thing Aunt Lorraine taught me—” Adeline took a breath, briefly preparing for that sting of pain. It was there, but not as prominent, as Calum squeezed her hand. “It’s to keep those important to you close.” A simple lesson, but one Adeline was finally understanding. She let out a soft laugh. “It’s about time I learned it.”

        Calum grinned, breathtaking and wide and allowing his crinkles to make an appearance. He kissed the back of her hand, eyes never leaving hers, before he asked with that smile turning boyish and teasing. “So, Addie—when can I see you again?”

        Her breath caught with the grin she wore, the flutter in her chest one she never wanted to be rid of. She didn’t think she’d been this happy since—well, since before Aunt Lorraine passed. How unsurprising that it was Calum, of all people, who brought that happiness back in her life.

        “Tonight,” Adeline answered through her smile, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his. “Tomorrow,” she continued, speaking between kisses as Calum’s hands found her hips and pulled her on top of him. The sheets slipped down a bit, but her hair provided a curtain for the two of them, lost in their own worlds as she kept kissing him and his laughter rumbled deeply through his chest, keeping her close.

She knew he wasn’t about to let her go any time soon—she obviously wouldn’t want him to, her own hands resting on his shoulders. His eyes were bright, a light shining in them that she had missed. Calum, this, the two of them together—it would always come down to this. They were inevitable. “The day after that. . . And every day after that, too.”

--

tags: @irwinkitten @loveroflrh @meetashthere @astroashtonio @loverofhood @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbabiesss @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @highfivecalum @malumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @miss-saltwatercowgirl @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @neigcthood @ohhmuke @mindkaleidoscope @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist​ @vxlentinecal​ @pettybassists​ @vaporshawn​ @lu-my-golden-boi​ @visualm3nte​ @isabella-mae13​ @dontjinx-it​ @lifeakaharry​ @neonweeknds​ @antisocialbandmate​ @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​ @calpalbby​ @grreatgooglymoogly​ @sunnysidesblog​ @miahelizaaabeth​ @dramallamawithsparkles​ @kaytiebug14​ @hoodskillerqueen​ @bitchinbabylon​ @empathycth​ @xhaileyreneex​ @tpwkcal @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac​ @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @wildflower-cth​ @wildflowergrae​ @bloodmoonashton​ @vxidhood​ @gosh-im-short​ @notinthesameguey​ @mycollectionofnuts​ @cthwldflwr​ @everyscarisahealingplace​ @socorroann​ @talkfastromance4​ @calumftduke​ @musichoney​ @treatallwithkindness​ @partlysunnycal​ @dead-and-golden​ @kaeleykaeley​ @harrys-sun-flower​ @br-hoe​  

[violetnotez]

Just imagine..... seven..spicy .... minutes... in.. heaven . . . with Bakugo . . . How would he react?

Seven Minutes In Heaven

😮😮yes anon I’ve been wanting to write something like this!!! And with Blasty Boi- double yes! ✨

Word Count: 2989

Warnings: 🌶 SPICY TIMES ALERT 🌶 , cursing

Pairing: Bakugo x reader

Again, this will have smut!! I’ll block off the area where the smut begins and ends so it’s prominent 💕

“Truth or dare?” Sero asked you as he grinned, the whole of Class 1-A awaiting your answer.

You looked up at the ceiling, debating your choices-if you got truth, you'd definitely have to spill your guts about something completely embarrassing, but the dares concocted by your classmates were surprisingly being pretty tame right now.

You looked to your side, seeing Bakugo’s grumpy form as he watched his classmates play Truth or Dare. No matter how hard you tried, your hot headed boyfriend had refused to play the game, calling it “stupid and a waste of his goddamn time”, even though he was still sitting to watch the game.

“I choose….” you hummed, your lips pursed in thought, “dare.”

“Crap, I really thought you’d pick truth!” Sero sighed exasperatedly, slouching slightly. “I had the perfect question too-“

Don’t worry dude, I got one!” Kamianri jumped up, his lemon yellow eyes glinting mischievously. “I dare you... to do your best ahegao face!”

Your eyes widened in shock. “The hell Kaminari!” You yelled playfully, “you know I have a boyfriend!”

“Which makes it even better!” Kamianri chided, a shit eating grin on his face, “gives us a little peak at what Bakubro gets to see-“

“Shut your damn mouth, before I burn you into the ground you perv!” Bakugo had suddenly heard the conversation, his body jumping off the couch. His vermillion eyes were bright like fire, his face flushed in anger as his hands began to snap with explosions.

Kaminari gulped in fear as Kirishima tried to calm his best friend. “Chill, dude, it’s just a game-he didn’t mean anything by that,” Kirishima tried to reason to Bakugo, Kamianri nodding senselessly to Kirishima’s words. “And besides, y/n doesn’t have to do it if she doesn’t want to.”

The group turned to look at you, your eyes still wide from the sudden turn of events. You knew your boyfriend was extremely hot headed, but it never seizes to amaze you how possessive he could really be.

You sucked in air, a grin gracing your lips as you looked at the waiting group.

“I know Kaminari didn’t mean anything from it,” you said, “and besides-it’s just a game. Fine-I’ll do it.”

You could tell Bakugo didn’t like the idea, his ruby red eyes staring daggers into you. You were definitely in for it later, already anticipating the petty argument that would come after. But you were your own person-you could do what you wanted. At the end of the day, it was your choice. And the hell you were gonna be the wimp that backed out of a simple dare.

A happy yelp of “Yeah!” Erupted out of Sero and Kaminari, causing you to laugh nervously while Bakugo continued to stare angrily at you.

You shifted on the floor, your knees now tucked under your body as your hands fidgeted nervously on top of your thighs.

a smile was still on your lips as you closed your eyes-you were just imagining the look on Bakugo’s face, his jawline tense and his bright red eyes squinted like slits and his lip slightly pouted out. You couldn’t really help but grin at the thought-Bakugou always looks so adorably hot when he was fuming.

Bakugo continued to glare at you from the couch, his arm crossed around his chest. If he could, he would beat his friends into a pulp for even thinking of the idea to make you do this-you were his girlfriend. Only he got to see you look any type of aroused or intimate in any way. He was unapologetically possessive, and if that kept these idiots from taking any part of you away from him, so be it.

Bakugo also knew how free spirited and defiant you were of his wishes, which honestly made him more attracted to you. You were unapologetically yourself and never took “no” for an answer-but at times like this he really wished you would listen to him.

Bakugo glared at you, preparing to keep his infuriated expression until he saw the face you pulled off for the dare. It was almost like you were mocking him- you had rolled your eyes back as if you were in pure ecstasy, your tongue hanging slightly out of your pretty lips, your shoulders rolled back to accentuate your curves.

He couldn’t help but feel heat raise all around his body, settling around his crouch and on his cheeks. He had never seen you pull off a face that intimate and arousing. Instantly, fury erupted in his chest-none of these idiots should have been able to see you like that.

And they were cheering, as if this was all okay, that they got to see something that was rightfully his and his only. God, though, he wanted you to do that face again, to moan out his name as your tongue lulled out of your pretty lips, his hips pounding into you senselessly as your eyes rolled back into your skull.

It wasn’t helping either that as Kaminari congratulated you on your expression, you were blushing and looking timid, as if you hadn’t done something so lewd in front of everyone. Something about you looking so sweet and innocent instantly turned Bakugo on even more-he was beginning to hate how much you toyed with his emotions so easily. Right now, whatever you did was making Bakugo even more hot and bothered than before.

You laughed along with your classmates, sneaking a quick glance at your boyfriend. To your surprise, though, he didn’t look all that angry-he always had on a “fuck you” expression, but right now he looked more stunned than anything. His cheeks were flushed red, while his eyes looked as if he had gotten caught in headlights. You gulped, a lump filling in your stomach-Bakugou was never shocked. Ever. He was always reacting to his surroundings, whether it be grumbling a rude reply or screaming at the person in front of him. Right now though, he wasn’t fighting-which meant that once he woke up from whatever daze he was in, he was going to be extremely pissed off.

A sad sigh slipped out of your mouth as Mina began to whine, stating she was bored and wanted to play another game. She the suddenly gasped in excitement, her head instantly coming upright from hanging backwards on the couch.

“Why don’t we play Seven Minutes in Heaven?!” She squealed, “everyone loves that game!”

A resounding chorus of “Sures” and “Why nots” filled the room, peeking up Mina’s already hyper personality even more.

Everyone seemed interested, including you, but your mind was still preoccupied with Bakugo. You were worried about him-Bakugo being quiet was never a good thing after all. He seemed to be acting a little normal now, breaking out of his dazed expression and becoming more his usual self, grumbling about how “stupid this game was.” You tried to send him a smile, but he seemed to not want to make eye contact with you, instead looking in a completely different direction of where you were. You sighed, standing up and dusting yourself off.

“I’ll play Mina,” you gave the pink girl a grin, earning a squeal from her.

“I’ll play too,” you turned in complete shock, your boyfriend voluntarily complying to play a game as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

You cocked an eyebrow in confusion-he was definitely up to something. He would never join a game on his own accord: he always acted too cocky for these things.

So what was he exactly doing??

Mina instantly took charge, laying out the rules and how the game was going to go. Everyone was ready to comply, turning their attention to her. You were now standing up, preparing to write your name on a small slip of paper so it could be drawn out of a hat.

You didn’t even notice when Bakugo walked up behind you, his towering body standing right behind your own. He leaned in quietly, his blonde locks tickling the back of your head.

“You’re in for it later princess,” he whispered huskily into to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

He quickly walked away, acting as if nothing happened. You gulped, your mind blank with fear as red began to grow on your cheeks.

———————————

“Alrightie, y/n,” Mina squealed, “ya ready?”

“Am I ever?” You laughed, your smile laced with nervousness as Mina shuffled you into the closet.

Mina shoved you into the dark space, the silkiness of clothing brushing your skin. The room was entirely dark, except for the few cracks around the door that illuminated light from the outside.

The last thing you saw was Minas bright, devilish grin before she closed the door with a satisfying “click”.

You took a deep breath, feeling how the stale air filled your lungs. You couldn’t really pinpoint why you felt so nervous-it was just a simple game after all. The thought of being stuck in such a small space with another one of your classmates was slightly nerve wracking though. It felt almost intimate to be close with someone for that long, even if it was only seven minutes. You were hoping to God it was someone who you actually liked- you couldn’t bear to be stuck with someone like Mineta. A shiver crawled up your spine at the thought of being stuck with the creep as you stared at the dark door, awaiting your fate.

Not too long after you suddenly began to hear loud noises outside the door, the sound of grumbling filled the room as you heard a muffled yell in response.

Before you could even question what the commotion was about, the door opened again and a certain blonde was shoved into the room.

It surprised you how quickly the room shrunk in space once Bakugo’s body was added inside, your chests mere inches from touching.

It felt scary to be so close to him-you honestly didn’t know what was going on in that chaotic mind of his, and how he was going to react. You gulped once again, sensing the heat radiating off his body as your heart paced.

You could practically feel the shit eating grin he was sporting though, excitement surprisingly filling your stomach.

“We’re finally alone, huh- “Bakugo chuckled darkly, “you ready?”

You already felt your mind go blank-it was like you were a lamb to a wolf, a mere meal for this boy to devour.

“Alrightie you two!” Mina yelled from the other side, “seven minutes starts….now!”

——————————

Bakugo instantly crashed his lips into yours, a stifled gasp slipping out from your mouth. He was harsh and brutal, his hands already roaming all over your body.

Heat was beginning to rise in your cheeks from embarrassment-you would never say no to a heated make out session with Bakugo, but you two were so close to your classmates. The only thing blocking them from hearing anything was a thin door, and your classmates were most definitely being dead silent so as to hear any embarrassing sounds.

You were finally able to pry your lips off his, gasping for air. “Baku-“ you started, but he instantly cut you off by kissing down your neck. Your body betrayed you, a small mewl slipping out of your lips.

“That’s right princess,” he congratulated, continuing his assault on your throat. “Keep on moaning-make sure those extras know who you belong to.”

Without any warning, Bakugo flipped you around, forcing you to face the wall with a loud thud.

“I want them to all know I can only make you feel that good to make that little face,” he growled, his hands wrapping around your waist, his digits trailing up to massage your breasts from under your bralette. You gasped from the sudden touch, your back arching into his firm chest.

“So this is why he was acting wierd,” you thought numbly, feeling his boner already pressed up against your ass. The sensations of his thumbs rubbing around your pert nipples as his hips ground into you was making your head spin. It was getting increasingly hard to keep yourself in one piece, pitiful moans escaping your mouth against your will.

“C’mon, y/n, I know you can be louder than that,” he taunted into your ear, his warm breath fanning your neck.

He continued the assault on your chest, his rough thumbs grounding against the sensitive buds. You squinted your eyes, trying to fight off the fuzziness in your head, but you were slowly beginning to give up. Pleasure was beginning to fill your body, pooling between your thighs. You could already feel the slick building there, the sensation making your legs rub together for any type of friction.

“Heh, you already want it that bad?” He grumbled against your skin, the grin still on his lips. “I’m going to need some convincing to fuck you like the slut you are.”

You instantly jumped as Bakugo’s hands slid between your legs, his hand rubbing against your clothed pussy. You mewled instantly against your better judgement, rubbing your hips against his digits.

Bakugo moaned at the sensation, the roll of your hips against his skin making his dick throb painfully.

“Fuck y/n-“ Bakugo groaned, “if ya want it, you need to say my name. Scream it.”

“ Make sure-everyone- knows your mine. And only mine.”

You finally came to your senses slightly, your eyes widening-your head still felt fuzzy, but you knew the consequences of listening to Bakugo’s orders. If you were loud, your classmates would surely hear.

God this is what he wanted, you realized- he wanted to make a fool out of you.

“B-but Baku-“ you began to protest again, but you were instantly met with another assault on your body.

Bakugo licked a line up your neck, his fingers wrapping around the loops of your shorts and pulling them down so they pooped around your ankles. He continues to rub your pussy, his groans in your ear making the pleasure throbbing in your core intensify.

He moaned out again softly. “Heh, look at you,” he taunted huskily, his digits swirling around your clothes clit, petting your opening, “already so fucking wet for me. You little slut-I bet you would love for everyone to hear you, huh?”

He began to press his thumb against your clit, denying you the full onslaught of pleasure as he continued to only touch you through your wet panties. You gave out a pitiful mewl, trying to cover up the sound of your pleasure though your teeth.

“I bet you want all of them to see you like this, a fucking mess because of me-“

He bite a soft spot on your neck, licking and kissing the sensitive area. Your body twitched under him, a louder gasp slipping out of you.

“Cmon princess I know you can be louder than that,” he continued to taunt, “say my name- and I might give you what you want.”

You continued to groan under him, wanting nothing more than his dick buried deep inside you right now. All thoughts of being quiet seemed to have disappeared from your mind, as if you had forgotten why in the first place.

“-s—s-‘Suki-“ you mumbled out, your brain incapable of proper language at the sensation of him rubbing against your clit.

”We don’t have much time teddy bear-“ he cooed, his hand becoming less light against your core, “if you want it, you gotta be louder.”

“My name. Scream it.”

Your head was feeling empty without his hand giving you some relief, and now he had stopped touching your breasts. You began to feel incredibly desperate and needy for his touches. Without them, you felt empty, and now you were intoxicated to his skin on yours. Your head went into overdrive, wanting him to touch you and make you feel good again.

“K-kat-Suki!” You yelled like a whimper, heat rising to your cheeks, “Touch-me-p-please! Please touch me ‘Suki!”

“That’s more like it,” he growled happily, flipping you over so you could now see his face. His vermillion eyes were illuminated by the cracks of light in the door, the obvious look of lust coating them in a dark hue. He looked like a predator, as he gazed at you with such want it made your head spin.

You reached to help him pull down his pants, his hardened dick springingout of his boxers. You breathed heavily at the sight, feeling your pussy clench in anticipation.

You were desperate to get his dick inside you, your hand moving to touch him, until his palms wrapped around your wrists. With one hand he pinned both of yours onto the wall, his enormous strength preventing you from wiggling out of his grasp.

“Heh, you think I’m gonna let you touch me?” He ridiculed into your ear, “no-if you wanted to act like such a slut out there and make me all hot and bothered, you can deal with the consequences.”

“1 minute guys!” Mina yelled, the message filling the room.

“Fuck!” Bakugo growled into your ear, pausing in his place. You could feel his body radiating heat, the feel of his dick so close to your opening agonizing without him stuffed inside you. You looked into his dark red eyes, despair filling your body as you felt him push away from you.

“B-but-“ you protested, trying to make a solution in your mind so he could finish what he started. Your body was tingling with arousal, and you felt you would break in two if he didn’t fix your present state.

“We won’t have time-get your clothes back on so those idiots don’t see you all messed up.” He commanded as he began to buckle his pants back up.

Bakugo looked up, the pout you were giving him making him chuckle.

“Oh but don’t worry though- I’ll give you what you want.”

He wrapped himself once more around you, his lips feather light against your own.

“Once we get out of this goddamn closet, I want you in my room.” He commanded softly into your ear as the door opened, strutting out as if nothing had happened.

“And don’t take your fucking time either.”

——————————

[edourado]

Off script

I did it. I worte something in the middle of the night and finished it just now.  This is me stretching my writing muscles. It’s unrevised and more than a little bit on the “trash” department, but I wrote it, so I thought I’d share it. 

It’s Kastle. Obviously. 

I have to go. I’ll review it when I come back from the vet with my dog. 

Thanks. Bye. Hope you like it. It’s trash.

-------

She had been very matter of factly. Way more than he anticipated, and he had anticipated it. 

He, on the other hand, had been ridiculous. Completely and undeniably ridiculous, unable to act according to his own resolutions. 

Frank had, for lack of a better word, rehearsed it. Their first meeting since their last one, that one where he just vomited words on her face, spoke without thinking, acted on momentary emotions, letting his confusion, his trauma, his stubbornness and pig headedness do the talking, resulting in distance, estrangement and, most definitely, deep, profound hurt. 

It had been their first meeting since that day, but not their first contact. Surprisingly, at the same time their strange relationship agonized, hers with Madani flourished, a friendship that was both startling and predictable. 

Friendship and professional collaboration, more often than not. And it had spilled on him, this time. 

(If ever she had children, Madani would make a very overbearing mother, Frank was willing to bet. She won him over by sheer persistence, and he was known as a stubborn man himself. Not delicately or diplomatically at all, she strongarmed him into consulting on her cases, forced a “job” both on him and her agency, cornered and bullied him into working for her, only to leave him wondering how the hell he had gotten there.)

And there he was, because of two women’s partnership, sitting on a bench in Battery park, watching as the wind made long strands of Karen’s hair twirl around her face, eventually catching on her lip, only to be pulled out by a finger while she talked, looking at a bunch of papers, explaining things to him that he should be listening, he should be paying attention, but he had just missed her so much, so much more than he even knew, it was like a punch to the stomach. 

“He was in Jersey on the 7th, by my accounts, but then he was tagged on a social media post, attending a party in Dubai three days later. That time window could be important, because Alec was-”

He heard none of it. He should, Madani was chasing this guy all around the country, and now he was going international for less than kosher reasons, and it was his job to predict his movements and place him somewhere she could catch him, and Karen had all this information - when did she not? - but right now he couldn’t even remember said guy’s name, much less why he should care where he was. 

Because she looked amazing. She sounded amazing and even smelled amazing, like something fresh and coffee and paper. 

She had looked at him so strangely, a simple “hi Frank” to make him turn around when she got to his bench, a polite “you look well” after sitting down, a “no, thanks” when he asked if she wanted some coffee from the place across the street. Karen hadn’t dwelled on their previous meeting, hadn’t asked questions about what he had been up to, didn’t really give him a chance to look too deep into her eyes, focusing on the file she had for him, notes for him to pass to Madani when she came back from Moscow, because he would see her first. 

And Frank had predicted this. He wasn’t a complete moron, and his last words to her still sounded clear as day in his mind, even if he was all banged and drugged up on the occasion. He knew she would not be warm and inviting, knew she would be hurt still, even wondered if she hadn’t followed his advice on Matt Murdock, or someone else. It stung like a bitch to think about that, but he had considered it, to prepare for this ten minute lunch break meeting, he had spent almost six nights running through different scenarios in his mind, to prepare himself. 

All in vain. All of those scenarios and rehearsed routes of conversation down the drain the moment he had seen her, heels and skirt and flowy blouse, a collapsing bun on the base of her neck, the wind, the collar of her coat and her own movements pulling and pushing strands loose. 

“He does have a daughter, though, but she is not as nearly as careful as he is. Loves flaunting the rich life on Instagram, she films everything, and I got to see that her driver was the same guy that was in Jersey with-”

Curtis had been very vocal about how stupid Frank had been when he narrated the hospital room events to him, and he didn’t even know Karen. 

“I don’t know her”, he had said over beers and an ignored game on TV. “I don’t need to know her, Frank, I just need to not be an idiot. Which you are, by the way, let’s make that clear.”

If he knew her, Frank was pretty sure Curt would smack him upside the head. If he could see her right then, ticking off items from her list, her pen poised on her hand as she went, sitting there with that file on her legs, looking at Frank from time to time to see if he followed - which he definitely didn’t - the crease on her brow when she focused on an item, the sheer blue of her eyes, the curve of her neck before the collar of her coat folded over skin, those stray hair locks lifting and falling with the breeze. 

Frank realized he was sitting turned towards her when his knee touched the back of the bench. Suddenly, he realized he had an elbow where his back was supposed to be, and his hand was supporting his face while he looked - stared - at her.

He was staring, full on staring, and found himself quite unable to stop. 

“The problem is”, she went on. “I can’t find any record of him planning to go to Dubai. I don’t even know how he got there. His name is in no manifesto I can find, and his plane is still parked here.”

Frank had forgotten how good he felt whenever he heard her voice. He had come to expect the soothing sensation that washed over him when they spoke, even the funny feeling that would run through his skin whenever he knew he was gonna see her. But it had been a while, now, and it shocked him a little bit, that feeling. It made him want to close his eyes and get closer to her, maybe touch his nose to that spot under her ear, over that birthmark, to investigate further on the delicate scent of her shampoo. Or, maybe, rest his head on her legs, to enjoy the sound of her voice without worrying about keeping himself sitting straight. 

He had been far from her for many months, and suddenly he wanted to extinguish that distance, nullify it, get as close to her as he could. He found it quite a strong urge, and discovered himself both uncappable and unwilling to resist it.  

“I don’t know how long he’ll be away”, she said as he leaned closer. “But he couldn't be very long, I doubt he’d delegate that much responsibility here, there’s too much going o-”

Contradicting everything he had told himself he would say or do, Frank saw his hand, lifting and reaching for her face, in no hurry, at the same time she lifted her own hand to move another lock of hair away from her eyes.

Karen looked at him when she saw his hand, a question in her eyes, and sucked in a surprised breath just before he caught her cheek and leaned forward, noses bumping before his mouth touched hers.

Not exactly a shock. Not an electric current like he had felt when he kissed Maria for the first time, or that buzz that had happened when he kissed her cheek that one time by the waterfront. Strangely, his mouth over Karen’s felt familiar, soothing, like he had done it a million times, even if he knew very well he hadn’t, was painfully aware of every single time he did not kiss her. 

She tensed against him, and her lips parted in surprise, which had been very, very pleasant - a friction against his own lips, rearranging slightly, opening up even if involuntarily - and he was about to pull back when he noticed she didn’t. 

With absolutely no notion of time, he waited a second or maybe an hour, before he moved his mouth against hers, trying a bit, tasting a bit, enjoying a lot, instantly addicted to the peculiar feeling of kissing her. 

His hand moved on her face, and the tip of his fingers found strands of hair. The edge of his teeth found the delicate skin of her lower lip, and he nibbled on it lightly before leaning further towards her, opening his mouth and creasing his brow in pleasure when she opened up further to him, tumbling her head back a degree or two, her small sigh threatening to dismantle him there where he sat. 

Her hand found his wrist when the tip of his tongue touched hers, and there it was, that jolt, exposed live wires touching, and he tightened his grip on her face at the same time she wrenched her mouth away from his, her forehead touching his while she exhaled sharply. 

“Jesus Christ”, she whispered. “Frank, what the hell?”

“I’m an idiot” were the words that came out of his mouth, both hands on her face now, sitting sideways on that very public bench, fulfilling his fantasy of touching his nose to the patch of skin under her ear, kissing the spot his lips touched, noticing her hand on his wrist was not pulling it away, noticing her posture had slumped a bit, she relaxed against the bench. “Fuck, I’m an idiot”.

“You’re… You’re aggravating, that’s what you are”, she said, her tone suggesting a reprimand, frustration, her movements indicating surrender, head tossing back to stretch her neck under his mouth, the hand not holding his against her face pulling on the fabric of his own coat. Pulling it towards her. 

Frank smiled. 

“Right back at ya.”

It was maybe not the best place to do this. A park in the middle of the day, with parents walking their children around, people on lunch breaks - just like Karen was - coming and going to and from all directions, perhaps it was not a good idea to just close his eyes and lose track of his surroundings like this, lose himself in her mouth and focus on nothing but her kisses, how her lips pressed against his and how her mouth opened willingly, how her tongue made a sort of shiver run laps around his spine. 

She made him mellow, he realized. Not just now, she always made him want to let go of everything he was holding, from deep embedded hate and guns to the sheer notion of reality and time around him, and that’s why he pushed her away at the same time he refused to let go of her, resulting in her hurt and confusion, the definition of those “mixed signals” people loved to talk about. 

Fucking great, Frank. Good job. 

“Oh God, ok, ok, wait wait wait”, she said, extricating herself from him one more time when the file she had on top of her legs tumbled to the floor. “I have- I have to go back, to the… To the office, I’m late already, what the hell, Frank?”

He picked up the file from the floor, gathering a page that had fallen from it and batting park dust from it.     

“I’m sorry”, he breathed, not really sorry at all for today, sorry for all those other times she reached for him so hard, only to have her hand and hopes swatted away. “I’m”, he let out a sigh, looking in her eyes, huge on him, lips parted and then not, her breathing a tad heavy, cheeks flushed. 

Curt was right. He was an idiot. 

.:.

She agreed to talk to him. 

He didn’t know what they would talk about, but that’s what they agreed on. To talk later that same day, because she had to go back to work, so they had gotten up from that bench and she had smoothed a hand down her clothes, gathering herself. 

Karen started saying something about a place she new near her apartment, where they could get a coffee and talk, more private than a park, but a curl of her hair had come to rest on her collarbone, twisting elegantly on a large curl, and Frank had found himself, again, taking a step forward and interrupting her, mouth over hers, pressing not so gently, and she let out a sort of hesitant chuckle when she pushed him away this time, closing her eyes and lifting her hand to her lips, shaking her head and then looking at him again. 

Now that he had started it, it was hard to stop. 

She said she would text him the address of the cafe, and looked at him with a sort of amused expectation before she walked away.

True to her word, she did text him the name and address of a small cafe, and it looked cozy when he walked by it on his way to her place. 

Not that he planned on climbing the fire escape and sitting there for an hour before she got off work. Frank had not planned to go there, he just found himself walking, his legs taking him there by their own accord, the memory of her teeth against his lip and her tongue against his dictating where he was going, making him walk straight by the place she told him to go, around the block and up the metal ladder. 

He sat there for what felt like forever, a cold breeze nipping his face, until he heard the familiar noise of her heels against pavement, her gait like an alarm clock, and he opened the window at the same time she opened the door downstairs. 

He was ready to apologise, again, for the scare he would give her when she opened her front door to find him standing in the dark in the middle of her living room, but she just looked straight at him and shook her head, closing the door behind her again. 

“I knew it”, she said, to which he smiled in spite of himself, legs on autopilot again, taking one two three steps towards the door while she stood there taking her coat off. “Jesus, what has gotten into yo-” she started to ask before he interrupted her for the third time that day, both hands on her face, taking full advantage of the privacy of her dark apartment, opening his mouth immediately to her kisses, delighted by the arms that sneaked their way up his chest and around his neck, hands on his face and down his back, gripping the fabric of his shirt, she kissed him so fully, without any guard, and he loved her for it. 

He loved her for kissing him like this, he loved her for being so stubborn, loved her for standing up to him, standing with him, for pointing that gun at him that one time, for sitting with him in the hospital, for crying for his family, for fighting for him when she didn’t even know who the hell he was. 

Frank loved her so much and he had known it for so long, but the realization hit like a brick to the forehead nonetheless.

“You are an idiot”, she said right after kicking her shoes off and helping him off his coat. 

“Yeah”, he agreed, pulling on the string on her collarbone, undoing the knot that kept her top together. “I know.”  

[whenisitenoughtrees]

Congrats on 500 followers!!!!! Your writing is amazing and you totally deserve it! Would you be able to do “Can you please stop biting your lip…it’s distracting.” for analogical? If you don’t get inspo for it that’s totally fine I’m just on a total analogical kick recently lol

@wisherbystarlight thank you!! i absolutely love analogical so here you go

Title: abject impermanence

Word Count: 3,570

Content Warnings: implied suicidal ideation (in reference to virgil ducking out), negative self image

(fic masterpost)

Virgil would rather die than admit this to anybody, but he develops a crush on Logan after their first debate.

It’s ridiculous, and bothersome, and stupidly humiliating, and he has to spend a few days in his room before he feels prepared enough to face anyone again, prepared enough to put up his usual walls and throw around his usual sarcastic comments, and all the while, his heart is beating far too fast, his mind racing, insisting that he’s being obvious, that everyone knows.

(That is what being Anxiety means: he is under a microscope all the time, his every movement watched and analyzed and derided, alone in a crowd of people who wish him nothing but ill.)

It’s awful, really. Is he truly so pathetic that the first time someone treats him like his opinions are valid, he falls head over heels for them? Because he has to admit, that’s the root of all of this. The debate, and the fact that even though Logan didn’t agree with him, he still treated him with respect, like he was someone worth listening to, and none of the light sides have ever acted like that before.

And they’ve certainly never told him that they don’t mind his company.

So. He has a crush on Logan. And it takes him a few weeks to calm down enough to really think about it, but when he does, he decides that nothing has to change. It’s not like he’ll ever work up the courage to act on these feelings

(because holy shit, how badly would that go? He can picture it now: Logan sneering at him, Logan rejecting him, Logan informing him that he would never in a million years have feelings for someone so irrational and useless, and while Virgil is at it, would he kindly remove himself from his presence and never come back and— well. Maybe Virgil is irrational, but he can’t bring himself to risk something like that)

so the only thing to do with them is pretend they’re not there, right? He’ll keep all of his emotions right here, in his chest, and then one day, he’ll die, and no one else has to know a thing about it.

He doesn’t see what could possibly go wrong with this plan. Which is odd for him because usually, he can only see the things that could go wrong. But the only factor in this plan is him, and his own ability to disguise his feelings, and he’s been successfully doing that for a very long time.

(After all, it’s been years, and none of the others have managed to figure out how much their rejection hurts him, how deeply it strikes at the heart he pretends not to have.)

But he doesn’t anticipate things changing. He doesn’t anticipate trying to duck out, at least, not until the moments in between making the decision and actually going through with it, and he doesn’t anticipate anybody coming after him. He certainly doesn’t anticipate their reactions, doesn’t anticipate being told that he’s important,

(because since fucking when?)

and doesn’t anticipate their acceptance.

He doesn’t anticipate telling them his name.

And alright, maybe he could deal with all of this. Maybe he could ease his way into being one of them, edge his way into their inner circle. It’s something he once would have thought impossible, but now, they seem determined to make him one of them, to bring him into their family, and even though part of him wonders whether they’re just trying to make sure he doesn’t duck out again, doesn’t hurt Thomas, a larger part of him is ecstatic about the fact that they’re including him at all. Maybe he can let himself have this, for once.

But that night, Logan comes to his room.

“Do you have a moment to talk?” he asks, and reluctantly, Virgil takes off his headphones.

Because, yes. Of course. He’s hardly busy, and even if he were, he’s certain he’d figure out a way to put it aside in favor of Logan, because really, he’s helpless to do anything else.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, aiming for casual. He thinks he makes it, if only because he is very practiced in hiding how much of a mess he is internally. “What’s up?”

Logan looks uncomfortable, a bit shifty, even though he hasn’t been in his room nearly long enough for its effects to take hold.

“I merely wanted to check in with you after today’s events,” he says, and then pauses, biting his lip, something that Virgil finds incredibly distracting. “Specifically, to ensure that you are alright.”

He blinks. “Of course I’m alright,” he says. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

“Well, I was considering everything that happened, and it occurred to me that we glossed over precisely what ‘ducking out’ would have done to you in the long term.” In an oddly vehement motion, Logan shoves his glasses further up his nose. And Virgil knows very well that as the embodiment of Logic, Logan tries not to display his stronger emotions, but right now, he is the perfect picture of distress. “I find it likely that if Thomas had been unable to utilize you for an extended amount of time, you may have… disappeared, for lack of a better word, not unlike a muscle that atrophies after disuse.”

Well, yes. He knew what he was risking. But he’d felt low enough that he didn’t particularly care about himself.

He was just tired of hurting Thomas.

(And maybe, just maybe, if there was a part of him, small and insidious in the back of his brain, that found the prospect of nothingness appealing, he’ll keep that to himself.)

“I mean, yeah,” he says. “But that didn’t happen. You guys came and got me, and I’m okay now. Not gonna do anything like that again, I swear.”

“That’s not my point,” Logan says, even more upset entering his voice. He crosses his arms, holding his shoulders tensely. “No matter how illogical it might seem, I find myself wondering what might have happened had we not attempted to reach you in time, and the idea is… displeasing.”

Oh.

Despite himself, Virgil’s heart flutters.

“So, I arrived at the conclusion that assuring myself of your continued well-being would help to assuage my concern.” Logan fidgets. “As well as the fact that… I want you to be alright. For yourself, and not just because I am…”

“Anxious?” Virgil can’t resist finishing, even as he feels his face flushing underneath his foundation. God, he hopes Logan doesn’t pick up on that. He shouldn’t be reacting this strongly to something as simple as basic worry, especially after the day they all had, but to know that Logan has been thinking about him? That Logan doesn’t like the idea of him not being around, doesn’t want him to vanish?

That Logan cares enough to come check on him like this?

It’s a strong, heady feeling, and Virgil has the sneaking suspicion that his crush has just upgraded itself.

“Yes,” Logan answers, and he seems a bit embarrassed, but he holds his ground, staring Virgil straight (gay) in the eyes. The direct eye contact is intense, almost too much for him to handle, but Virgil finds himself unable to look away.

“Well, uh, I appreciate it, I guess,” he manages. “Really, it’s nice to know that you care.”

“Of course,” Logan says, and seems almost indignant at the idea that he might not. “I value our discussions,” he adds, and Virgil has to pretend that that statement doesn’t almost give him a heart attack.

But that is mostly the end of that conversation, because really, neither of them is very good with touchy-feely emotions. Logan sinks back out shortly after, and Virgil is left alone in his room, his headphones lying uselessly on his lap as his mind reviews their exchange over and over again, searching for all the places where it might have gone wrong, or where he might have messed up. He can’t really find any, and that is a realization in and of itself, almost enough to distract him from the bigger one, the one that looms over him.

It’s not just a crush anymore. He could try to deny it, but he thinks that would summon unwanted attention. So he accepts it, accepts that he is… he’d say infatuated, but infatuated isn’t the right word. Infatuated doesn’t even begin to cover what he feels when he looks at Logan, doesn’t cover the way his heart races and his words trip over themselves and the way he longs for his approval. It doesn’t cover the way he knows so many little details about him, like the way Logan pushes at his glasses or fiddles with his tie when he’s nervous or upset, or the exact way his lips curl around the edges when he’s pleased and trying not to show it. So many little details, none of which would be on his radar at all if he wasn’t—

Well. He won’t deny it. But he doesn’t particularly see the need to voice it, either.

After all, it’s not like it changes anything. Or at least, it shouldn’t. He wasn’t planning on sharing his feelings when they were a simple crush, and he’s certainly not going to share them now that there’s more.

Except, nothing is ever that simple,

(Nothing ever can be, with him. It’s what he does best, turning easy things into overcomplicated messes because he can’t let go of all the what ifs—)

because suddenly, he’s welcome to spend time with the others. Is welcome at their table, is welcome in the commons, is welcome to join their movie nights and their game nights, and most of the time, he even feels mostly okay with doing so, because Patton is enthusiastic in his invitations, and he can tell that even Roman is honestly trying. And sometimes, it makes him want to cry, because this is all he’s ever wanted, to be one of them, and now he can and it’s almost too much.

The only problem with that is that he’s spending a lot more time around Logan.

Which is fine. Great, even.

Except, sometimes, Logan will do things. Little things, inconsequential things, but things that remind Virgil all too clearly of the feelings he keeps nestled under his heart.

For instance, Logan bites his lip a lot. When he’s working, when he’s watching movies, when he’s listening to the others, and sometimes for no reason at all. It’s a stupid thing to get caught up on, but he can’t help himself. And it’s not as if Virgil’s attraction to him begins or ends with the physical, but—

Whenever he does it, Virgil can’t stop his eyes from zeroing in on his lips. Can’t stop himself from thinking about how much he would like to kiss him.

He would like to kiss him a whole lot. And he’s fairly sure he’s being pretty obvious about it, but he can’t bring himself to stop.

So, really, he should have prepared himself for the possibility of being found out. Under any other circumstance, he would have, but there’s a saying, he thinks, about love and fools.

“Can I help you with something?” Logan says, and Virgil flinches violently, the rest of the world coming back into focus. He snaps his gaze up to meet Logan’s eyes, and the expression on his face might be amusement, maybe, but it could also be annoyance, and in fact, it’s probably definitely annoyance, because actually Logan is annoyed with Virgil and maybe even angry and now their budding friendship is completely ruined and all because Virgil doesn’t know better than to stare when he really shouldn’t be staring and—

No, stop. Stop. He’s not going to do that, not right now. He wrests his thoughts back under control with an effort.

Logan was working, typing away on his laptop, biting his lip as he concentrated. And Virgil just so happened to be out in the commons as well, in the perfect position to watch him and daydream, just a bit.

He needs to reply. He’s left it too long, and Logan’s eyebrows are inching up his face as he awaits a response. And the longer he takes to come up with something, the more suspicious Logan will be, so he should just shrug, mutter a denial, and pointedly turn his attention away. Something like that.

But it’s his job to make snap decisions under pressure. And sometimes those decisions aren’t the right ones.

So instead of taking another second to think things through and deflect Logan’s interest, his mouth opens ahead of his brain and says, “Can you please stop biting your lip?”

Logan stares. Virgil feels himself wilting.

“… It’s distracting,” he finishes weakly, and prays for the ground to swallow him whole. He can’t even manage to sink out

(because his mind is screaming at him now, screaming horrified recriminations, screaming all of the worst case scenarios, and it’s taking all of his concentration to breathe properly, much less get out of here)

because the sheer force of his embarrassment is leaving him paralyzed, curled up in his chair and with nowhere to go, nowhere to escape Logan’s widening eyes.

“Is it now,” Logan says, and he doesn’t sound particularly angry, but Virgil could very easily be wrong. Or, he could be angry and trying to hide it. Or maybe he’s not angry, but irritation would probably be just as bad, at this point.

“Sorry,” he mutters, hunching in on himself. “Nevermind, forget I said anything.”

“Virgil, you’re magnifying,” Logan says softly, and that softness is worse than any anger could be, because what if he’s figured it out? What if he pities him? Virgil would take just about anything over pity. “Whatever you think you just said, I assure you that it didn’t come off nearly as badly as you seem to believe.” He pauses, tilting his head. “Though, I can’t say I’m certain of what you meant, considering—”

He cuts off suddenly, and Virgil can practically see the cogs turning in his head. He should leave now, leave before Logan draws his conclusions, but he is frozen, powerless to do anything but let this train wreck happen in real time.

“I wouldn’t ordinarily consider biting my lip to be a disruptive habit,” Logan says slowly. “It makes no noise and does no one any harm, and it’s not something I would think affects anyone else. But you were staring, which means there is something about the habit that draws your attention. I can only think of a few reasons for that.”

He takes it back. Pity would be far better than this, than this slow and measured reasoning, drawing out all of Virgil’s best-kept secrets, spiraling toward a conclusion that he never wanted anyone to know, much less Logan himself.

Perhaps that is why he says what he says. Because with this, Logan is only prolonging the inevitable, and it’s torture.

It’s like a band-aid. The biggest band-aid ever, maybe, covering one of the worst wounds of his life, but a band-aid. And it’s coming off one way or another, so he might as well rip it off now and brace himself for the sting.

“Oh my god,” he says. “It makes me want to kiss you. That’s why it’s distracting. And I’m just gonna go die in a hole now, if that’s alright.”

His face is burning, mortification rising up in him like a tidal wave, threatening to swamp him. This is, possibly, the worst thing that has ever happened to him, ever.

(It’s not, of course, because anything and everything is better than it was before he was accepted, when he was on his own and so lonely and bitter all the time. But this comes close, he thinks. It’s a different kind of hurt altogether, but a hurt nonetheless.)

Logan sets his laptop down, giving him his full attention. For a moment, he is completely silent, and Virgil prepares himself to stand and sink out and into his room, where he will spend the next few weeks huddled under the covers on his bed with his headphones on blast, hating his life and himself for being such an idiot, because here he is, ruining one of the best friendships that he has ever known, and for what? Because he was too much of a moron to keep himself from staring, from forcing his unwanted attentions upon the one side who was more likely than any of the others to notice what he was doing? It’s pathetic, and stupid, and he knows it, and Logan knows it, and—

“I don’t see why you need to do that,” Logan says. His voice shakes, just slightly. “You could kiss me, if you wanted.”

Virgil stills. He can’t have heard that right.

Logan clears his throat. “That is to say, I would enjoy it, if you kissed me. If I’d realized you were interested, I would have broached the topic sooner.”

Hysterical laughter threatens to escape him, his brain dissolving into static, because what? And he knows he needs to say something, needs to respond, but his vocal cords refuse to work, so he’s left sitting there, staring, stricken dumb.

Logan glances away, something like uncertainty crossing his face. “I apologize,” he murmurs. “I’m not doing this right, am I?”

And that is what finally spurs Virgil to action, because Logan sounds so terribly dejected, and that is absolutely not allowed. Not when it’s Virgil that’s made such a mess of things, when none of it is Logan’s fault at all.

“Do you mean it?” he croaks.

Logan blinks, his expression clearing, and then landing on comprehension. His face softens, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he stands, crossing the floor and kneeling in front of where Virgil sits.

“Of course I do,” he says, and then reaches out with one hand, cupping Virgil’s cheek. Virgil’s breath catches, the contact shooting lightning across his face and down his spine. His heart starts beating faster, and he doesn’t know whether it’s fear or anticipation or some mixture of the two. Most of him still hasn’t processed that this is happening, hasn’t made the jump from Logan can never know about my feelings because he’ll reject me and then I’ll have no choice but to jump off a cliff to Logan knows about my feelings and he is doing the exact opposite of rejecting me hoooooly shit what do I do—

“I think about you often,” Logan says. “Ever since our first debate, if I’m being completely honest.”

Virgil blinks.

The laugh escapes him, then, but there’s not much hysteria in it. It’s something warm, now, something bright and colorful and blooming as he realizes just how much of an idiot he’s been, as his anxiety slowly begins to fade away,

(not completely, never completely, because he is who he is and that will never change, and his mind is already looking to the future, at all the fresh new opportunities he is going to have to screw this up, but for now, in this moment, he has Logan here in front of him, offering to kiss him, telling him that his feelings aren’t as one-sided as he convinced himself they had to be, and it’s very difficult to be negative at all, in the face of such a beautiful thing as this, as him)

morphing into something that he is tentatively willing to call hope.

“Yeah?” he says. “Me too.”

Before he can lose his nerve, he shifts position, leans down, and kisses Logan. Lightly, briefly, and it’s really more of a peck than anything else, but in the split second in which their lips meet, Virgil can feel just how soft Logan’s are, and when he pulls back, anxiously searching for a reaction, Logan’s cheeks are dusted with red.

“Yes, um,” Logan says. “That was… good. Would you like to do it again?”

A wave of fondness washes over him, and he lets it drag him away.

“You dork,” he says, and pecks him on the lips again. He doesn’t yet have to courage to try for more, but he thinks that might come with time. If he is allowed time, if he is allowed this, and he is not prone to optimism, but for once, he might be willing to give it a go.

Optimism, and whatever this is, new and exciting and budding between them. And there is a part of his mind that is screaming at him, insisting that he’s only going to hurt Logan or get hurt himself, and that no brief happiness could ever be worth that, but—

Logan’s lips are gentle and soft, and Logan is smiling at him, and that, he thinks, might be worth the world.

(“I would be extremely displeased if you died in a hole,” Logan informs him a bit later. “Please refrain from doing so.”

He agrees, if only because of that fact that if he died in a hole, he would never get to kiss Logan ever again. And now that he’s started, he doesn’t ever want to stop.

He is not one to believe in permanence. Or in happy endings. But just this once, he’ll try it, and trust that Logan will catch him if he falls.)

General Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii @severelylackinginquality @aceawkwardunicorn @gayerplease @elizabutgayer @dwbh888 @thatoneloudowl @sanderssides-angst @gayboopnoodle @wildfire5157 @a-ghostlight-for-roman @ldavmp4

[enigma-im]

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

Rating: Teen Relationship: Space Orc x F!Human Warnings: angst, avoidance, emotional constipation, repression, fluff, space orc

Word Count: 3812

insecurities are like another person in a relationship, whispering in the other’s ears till something happens.

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

Soulmates are something to rejoice over. Which is understandable, it's the person who is perfect for you. How could anything go wrong? It's your other half, your partner in crime, your true paring. Everyone believed it was a simple affair, you meet and then happily ever after. It was the basics until we found out there was life outside of earth, then things got a bit more complicated. New cultures to take into account along with physiology.

Things aren't as straight forward after that.

When I was a kid I use to fantasize about my soulmate. Would they be tall, short, fat, skinny? What kind of music do they like, and will they also eat their sandwiches without the crust? I adored the idea of having a new best friend to hang with. As I got older the idea never really left, morphing more into adult-type thinking. It isn't till I could translate my mark did I begin to have doubts.

It was an off chance that I happened to see the language my soulmate spoke, a weird situation really. I was fumbling about online and I saw it, just a new article that had a picture of the written language. It as scraggly and difficult to read, like a doctor's handwriting. With further research, I found exactly what species my mate was likely to be.

Orc.

I was excited at the time, I figured it out. My mate was to be an Orc, large creature with mostly human parts. To better prepare I did some more digging, looking up anything I could that wasn't video game lore. It was all so new and surprising. I had a direction now, an image to apply to my fantasies.

Since then I have studied extensively on Orc culture. Learning the ins and outs of how they live, socialize, idolize, and talk. It was all so engaging and rich in lore. It felt like I was getting to know my mate already.

The more I researched I soon had an inching doubt. It started off small, basic insecurities. As I read about their courting did I really give it some thought.

Orcs value strength in their culture. A strong mate is heavily sought after. If a soulmate wasn't of great value then they are known to cast them aside. The idea puts lead in my stomach. I'm not strong, or large like their women. I'm tall but I fit more in the string bean category more than anything. I could never be what a typical orc would want.

As I spiraled in these thoughts one thing became clear. I will not be putting myself through that humiliation. I can't stand the thought of being viewed so lowly by someone who is supposed to be my perfect match. To be laughed at by them or be a dirty secret will kill me inside. I can't be an embarrassment, I refuse.

Thereafter I ignored my mark, keeping occupied in school and work. A little while later it became easy to avoid thoughts about him. It was like I never had a soulmate.

It wasn’t as freeing as I thought it would be.

After college I jump into my career, climbing the corporate ladder quickly. It's easy enough when you are married to your work. That even the thought of free time brings anxiety and stress. After a few years, I am exactly where I want to be. Traveling the world meeting new important people.

I have been everywhere and met every type of person. Orcs being one of those types of people. When I first saw one the excitement peaked its head, only for a moment. Then anxiety took over. What if it's him? The orc said his first words to me and the sigh of relief and disappointment was alarming. A few more introduction after that and the rising emotions settled. It was back to normal after that. Pretending that 'special' someone didn't exist.

Years passed and nothing happened. I didn't meet him or even get a trail. My soul felt numb, everything felt numb. It's hardly noticeable after so long, just a hole I've dealt with. I tried dating to fill the void but no one wants to date outside their partner. Anyone who does has lost their loved one already, wanting to also fill the void. Once they find out mine is still out there they break off quickly. So I focus on my career, it's all I have.

In my early 30s, I'm working in Germany. A lovely place but I always preferred the isles of Scotland, specifically Skye. At the embassy passing around some documents, I bump shoulders with an imposing figure. He is quite tall and buff, the poster child of orcs if I've ever seen one. He twists around, apologizing for the shoulder check.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there. Shouldn't have had my focus too far in the clouds while walking a crowded room," he smiles curtly.

I stare blank face at him, all primary functions failing. I can hear- feel- my heart beating against my chest. Everything is cold, my fingers numb but tingly. My vision tunnels and my brain just screams one thing. Run.

Rudely I turn and quickly walk away, giving no further reaction or words to my mat- to the stranger. I don't have a direction as I make it out the nearest door. I close it swiftly behind me, leaning against it. Sliding down to the floor I ball up. Pressing my knees to my chest and begin crying. Years of repression and closeting emotions are now boiling over. The sadness I ignored, convincing myself that they do not exist, is all on the surface.

I hiccup, stubbornly wiping away tears on the floor of a bathroom. All I can think is,

Fuck.

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

I have to say I've gotten good at not only avoiding emotions but people too. A week and a half of only catching glimpses of the orc. Which is a lot of glimpses, he is out and about often. It helps I'm stuck in my office for the time, only leaving for lunch. Still, he is always around when I'm out.

After I can pretend I've forgotten about him does he show up in my office. Knocking on my door a little after lunch. Too focused on work I don't hear him come in. I look up from my desk and choke.

"Hello again," he smiles," I have a folder for you, Reggie asked if I could bring it by."

"uh," I stare. My fingers grip the pen roughly, my fist almost shaking with the tension. The only thought running through my head now is, 'don't say anything'. If I talk then he will know. Then he will reject me. Then I can't go on pretending.

"You alright," he flicks the folder against his chest," didn't mean to startle you or anything. I know orcs can be kind of intimidating." I almost snort at the irony of that statement. Very intimidating indeed.

Instead of answering I hold out my hand for the folder, my other still white gripping the pen. He quickly crosses the room, handing me the folder before walking back to the door. With a curt wave, he is gone.

Once the door clicks into place I take in a greedy breath, slamming my head into my crossed arms. I groan, mumbling into my fist. My brain is muddled and my heart conflicted. I yearn to follow him but I also crave to leave back to the states. But one thought is resting quietly in the back of my head.

He looks good in those pants.

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

This idiot is now making it damn hard to avoid him. It's like he has made it his mission to get me to talk. Intercepting my way to my office in the mornings, meeting me at lunch, or delivering things to my office. He is determined, I'll give him that.

I'm almost running out of excuses. It's hard to make excuses without talking. I'm almost convinced he thinks I'm mute. Which would have been a grand way out if it wasn't for my coworkers plotting against me. As I talk with them they try to bring him into the conversation, promptly shutting me up.

I learn at some point his name is Garson. When I first heard I actually blushed, like a school girl! It was just his name and he didn't even say it. I will never understand the inner workings of soulmates but Garson always makes my controlled emotions run rapid.

As I sit in my office, absentmindedly writing my door opens. I don't look up, lost in thought for the hundredth time today.

"Hey," that deep -sexy- voice says. I sigh, shoulders slumping. I glance ahead, annoyed, and flustered. Garson waves shyly, holding up another folder. At this point, he has become my special delivery man. "From Vanya," he sets the file down," she asked I bring it on account of her bum leg. I told her it would be a bad idea to play soccer with her teens." his tense chuckle makes my heart throb. I want to ease his anxiety, but I can't. I just shrug, still writing.

He sighs, walking back out the door. The click echoed around the room and I find myself slamming my head on the desk again.

"Fuck," I groan, pounding my fist on the folder.

As I remind myself for the hundredth time why I'm doing this I notice my notes. I shift the paper and grimace at what I wrote.

Garson. Garson. Garson.

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

I can't fucking take it! He is more determined than I am stubborn. Watching him find more excuses to come to my office is almost impressive in its own right. He has upgraded from delivery boy to a food service. At some point he has found out my favorite snacks and drinks.

He interrupts me at the door, handing me a coffee while ranting about his night. As I ignore him, feeling like the biggest idjit, other coworkers join in. the number of dirty looks I get doesn't outweigh the appreciation I have for them talking to him. I feel like complete garbage when I don't respond to him, letting him look like a fool talking to someone who clearly doesn't want to talk. Thank the kindness of others.

Around lunch he pops in for a chat, offering a spot next to him in the cafeteria. I shake my head, pretending to be too busy to interact with him. Every time he offers and I decline he leaves so dejected. It's so heartbreaking to see him like that.

Day after day he tries his damndest to make friends with me. I cannot fathom this type of devotion to someone he doesn't know. I'm almost tempted to think he knows but its impossible. He is just too friendly for his own good.

Some coworkers have cornered me to ask what is up, some more confrontational than others. Some are casual in their attempts, asking simply why I'm so mean to the orc. Others are personally offended for him, being passive-aggressive to the point that I ask them to take his attention off me if they are so angry. Some do, which I'm grateful for. But he isn't swayed so easily.

I sit in my office, alone, contemplating my choices. I can't keep dealing with this. The heartbreak I feel rejecting him is as bad as him rejecting me. I'm doing what I was afraid of him doing, worse is he doesn't even know.

I have to leave.

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

It was weak, I'll admit that. Asking for a transfer was probably the easiest way out. I know I should just talk to him, let him have a choice in this, but I can't. he is a sweet guy, everyone knows that, but he is still an orc. He deserves someone strong and proud as his kind is. It's impossible for me to be that.

As I wallow on my last week of work I clean up my drawers to distract myself. I sort through some papers when the door bangs open. The knob slams against the wall, bouncing away towards that alluring figure. Garson walks in, grabbing the door and closing it behind him. His sneer is alarming, along with his clenched fist.

"You're leaving," he shouts," are you kidding me?" he walks closer to the desk, turning to pace the length of the room. " I tried, I thought maybe it's because I'm an orc and you were scared of me. I understand that, humans are super sensitive that way. But no! I was nice, patient, and doing everything I could to be nonthreatening. Yet that didn't help did it? It seems like nothing was going to fix that. So my question should really be why is my soulmate running from me?" I gasp, gawking at him. He stops his pacing, glaring down at me with crossed arms. He shrugs," well? Why are you running from me?"

I can't answer, shocked and startled by this admission. He doesn't allow me the time to stew on the question. He shoots forwards, slamming his hands on the desk. I jump.

"Why are you running from me," he chokes on a sob," It's been killing me to give you time. To watch you every day and not be able to hold you. If you want to leave, then fine. I won't stop you. I just want to know where I went wrong, what did I do? What could I have done? Was I always going to be not enough for you? Well?"

I bolt up at his words," I was scared! I was fucking scared, ok?" we both startle at my outburst. His self-deprecating look mixed with his attempt at a sneer melt off his face. I sigh, "I didn't want to be rejected, I couldn't handle that kind of pain." I drop my head in defeat.

Garson ducks down onto his knees, catching my eyes. "Why did you assume I would reject you," he asks.

"because you’re an orc and I'm not," I answer.

He scoffs," and you're a human and I'm not. Do you really see that as being a huge problem?"

"Yes," I slap the desk," of course it's going to be a problem. I'm not strong or proud, I'm weak and antisocial. I cry every time I watch sad dog movies. I can't lift more than half my body weight. I also don't have anything worthy for you. I'm an ordinary human while you are part of a devoted species. I am not worthy."

Garson just stares after my outburst. He looks between my eyes then gives me a once over. He huffs, standing straight. He combs his fingers through his long hair, turning away with a laugh.

"You have to be kidding me," he laughs again. His chuckles turn into full-blown laughter till he is lounging against the door.

"What's so funny," I snap. His laughs trail off as he watches me. When he doesn't answer, I sit, arms crossed and lip sneered.

"Sorry," he looks to his feet," it's just ironic."

"Yea, how so?"

I watch him straighten from the wall and casually flop into one of the chairs in front of my desk. Everything is quiet as he collects his thoughts. I faintly hear the sound of shuffling outside my door. No doubt some people heard the shouting.

"When I first found out what species my soulmate was I was excited. I had a direction now, I felt closer to you. I was so excited I told everyone I could. People of my clan held their tongues at my joy, only giving pitiful looks but no words. I never noticed it. It's when my parents sat me down to explain did I get it," he shifts in his chair," 'humans are scared of us' my mom said. 'they are weak' my dad said. I became torn between the fear of hurting you and the fear of you not wanting me because you'd think I'd hurt you.

"When I finally read what your words said I let their words alter me. instead of rejecting the idea of you I sent out to change. I got jobs that interacted with humans and kept myself small. I'm not a threat, I never was. I took every chance to chat with humans, to get used to them. It was all in preparation for you. I was- am- scared of you." he meets my eyes, his so full of fear. My heart patters, the view of vulnerability shaking me to the core.

"y-you were scared of me," I point to myself. The idea is laughable. "So we are a bunch of idiots too worried about each other's feelings to just ask straight out what we actually felt. That is funny," I chuckle. I huff, sitting back in my seat.

The awkward silence should be stifling but we are captured in our thoughts. It's amazing in its irony that he was also the one scared. I feel relieved and foolish all at once.

"so," he bounces his fingers on his thigh," what now?" I shift in my seat, also curious about our direction.

"depends," I nibble on my lip," do you want me despite everything?" the question lingers in the air for me. The answer I've dreaded my entire life. The choice that decides my happiness.

"Despite everything," he ponders," you ignore me for weeks, avoiding any interaction. Not talking to me less you wish to reveal yourself, and requesting a transfer. Despite all that, despite the ignorance and stubbornness, I want you." the satisfaction that flows through me is startling. My hand shakes from the previous fear and now incomparable joy.

"I never thought I would hear those words," I sigh," thank fuck."

He stands from his chair, walking over the side of my desk. "So you want me too? Despite everything," he crouches down. I grab at his face, finally allowing myself the chance to admire his handsome face. His long tusk and pierced lip. His dark green eyes and even darker green skin. He is so beautiful.

I answer him by leaning forward and capturing his lips. Pressing fiercely against him, showing him my cyclone of emotions. He returns it in full, shedding his insecurities to just hold me.

"I'm sorry," I mumble against him.

"it's ok, I'm sorry too," he kisses me again. He cards his fingers through my hair, petting down its length. I don't want to leave this moment, it filling the hole that sat too long in my heart. Though one question makes me part.

"How did you know," I ask. He traces his nose over mine with a hum.

"How did I know what," he asks.

"How did you know I was your soulmate, I didn’t say anything," I clarify. Garson answers by leaning down to my neck and taking a large inhale.

"Fresh baked cookies and honey milk," he kisses my cheek," only my soulmate can smell so good."

I laugh," you can smell your soulmate?"

"of course, all orcs can. Do humans not have this," he leans back. I shake my head, taking the time to lean in and smell him.

"pine tree and blueberries," I ponder," no, pine tree and strawberries."

"pine tree and fruit?"

"I guess so," I shrug, grinning like an idiot. He smiles with me, leaning back in for another heart stopping kiss.

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

After the week is over I transfer back to the states. The distance is aching, the void opening as he isn't there to fix it. I call him every night, regretting more than anything signing those papers. I belong right next to Garson in Germany. Though I can see now that I deserve to deal with the repercussions of my actions. Still, it sucks.

A month in I feel as empty as I did before he showed up. The daily calls help but seeing him would be better. My work suffers as a result, to the point that I consider taking vacation time to visit him.

Soon enough I do just that, putting in a week-long vacation request. I forgo telling Garson of my visit, wanting to surprise him. It's exciting to be able to this with someone. I always watch couples on tv surprising each other like this. It's nice to feel so normal.

The night before my flight I start packing. As I collect my clothes I hear a knock at the door. Tossing the items down I go over and answer. I throw open the door expecting some salesman but I'm greeted to a hulking figure.

"Garson!" I jump him with a hug. I pepper his face with kisses, too caught up in the growing affection.

"Hey, nice to see you too," he laughs, holding me close. He walks in, shutting the door behind himself as he goes into my living room. He sets us both on the couch, leaning down for a kiss.

"What are you doing here," I ask surprised.

"What, can't come visit my mate?"

"Oh shush, you know that's not what I meant. I'm asking because I was just getting ready to visit," I point towards my room," I'm in the middle of packing actually."

"really," he strokes my thigh," I guess great minds think alike."

"I guess they do," I smile. Having him here is like a weight being lifted off my shoulders. I underestimated his importance until now.

We can't help but make up for lost time, making out like a bunch of teenagers on the couch till we make it to the bedroom. Pushing the luggage and clothes off the bed we make love for the first time. When he first pushes in it's like a puzzle finally coming together. I can't believe I was going to deny myself this, even with the chance of denial this is too great of a reward.

We lay in bed, me resting against his broad chest and him petting my head. We bask in the afterglow and silence, overjoyed with each other's company.

"I got some news," he mumbles, breaking the quiet. I hum, nuzzling into his chest. "I got transferred here," he answers.

I snap straight, looking down at him, "You're going to work with me?"

"yea," he smiles," it's exciting, I've never been to the states before."

"really? It's not much but now that you’re here perhaps it is," I cup his jaw, stealing a kiss while my excitement is hot.

"you flirt," he teases," I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," I mumble against his lips.

We fall asleep that night, curious but excited about our future.

I'm glad things worked out despite our ignorance. How could anyone deny their mate?

----------------------- 

I just.... I just love orcs so much. soulmate stories ain’t so bad either.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

[tweetracer]

Hello, I love your work and writing style. I was wondering, since none of the Lost boys is what you could call a boyfriend material - how would they deal with being in a long-term relationship? What would be the biggest challenge for each of them? And maybe for you as their partner? I would love to hear your thoughts.

LOST BOYS + RELATIONSHIP STRUGGLES

DAVID

As an immortal, David lives his life fast-paced and reckless. The people he brings into his world (save for his boys of course) are there for kicks until he grows tired. It’s not the best model for a relationship of course but he never had to worry about anything being truly long-term.

That was until he met you, of course.

The moment he realized he wanted you to be in his life forever he panicked. He’d never wanted anything to be in his life forever- at least nothing he didn’t already have.

But you? You were special- and he wanted you to be with him.

You knew what he was- it was one of the things he loved about you. You knew and you still loved him, you still cared for him even though he was... a monster.

The second he realized he loved you he asked to turn you. He wanted you in his life forever and since he wanted it obviously you did too.

When you turned him down he was crushed. Why? Was it him?

Well.... no... but also yes...?

He was rough and tumble- and while you definitely dug the ‘bad boy’ aesthetic- you also wanted someone who wasn’t scared to be soft with you. David struggled to show his gentleness even when the two of you were alone and...

....while that was fine for a fling....

You expected the moping- hell, you expected him to dump you on the spot.... but he didn’t. He fucked off to the cave for a few days, sitting in his chair- unmoving and so deep in thought you’d think he was a statue.

When you finally spotted him at the boardwalk again, he made a bee-line towards you. Confused, you watched him stomp right up to you, grab your wrist, and pull you into a telenovela-style dip and kissed you right then and there.

He....He could be a bad boy and still love on his kitten..

While PDA and emotional communication still weren’t exactly.. his strong suit he was working harder to be more open about his feelings.

DWAYNE

At first glance Dwayne is everything you could want out of a long-term relationship.

He’s kind, courteous, considerate. He’s like a (sort of) living security blanket. His constant calmness is enough to calm even the worst of your moods..

The only issue is he’s always calm.

You have literally never seen this guy get angry- he always handles you like you’re made of glass. You know comparably you are considerably more fragile but god.

He keeps his feelings and opinions under such tight wraps you might as well be dating a fucking bedside table.

You kept most of your frustrations to yourself, not wanting to really shake the boat but all of these small annoyances built up slowly till it felt like you were going to explode.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was so small in hindsight it was surprising that it was the catalyst. You asked him what he wanted for dinner.

“Whatever you want to eat”

“Dwayne, what do you want for dinner”

His responding shrug and assurance that he’ll like whatever you pick made you fucking explode.

He stood there, wide-eyed as you chewed him out. ‘For god’s sake can’t you ever have an opinion on something?’ ‘You’re being a doormat- you’re a literal vampire have some fucking spine’

When you stormed off he still stood there, blinking and shocked as he tried to really process what you said.

You didn’t see him for the rest of the night and when you went home the cave was empty. Content to fume for a while longer you didn’t see him again until you were out on the boardwalk the next night.

The two of you discussed the previous night’s events, speaking in hushed tones in a quiet corner booth of Stoker’s Diner. You explained that him always agreeing with you put a lot of pressure on you to make all the decisions and how it wasn’t healthy for him to not voice how he was feeling.

He needed to know that you wanted to listen to him too. Both voices are important in a relationship- especially when you hope to be as.... long term as the two of you.

While he’s still more reserved than most people- Dwayne begun to actively communicate a bit more, giving you his opinion a bit more freely and always ready to preen anytime you comment on it.

PAUL

You loved Paul.

You really did.

But where Dwayne was a doormat- Paul was a bulldozer.

His brain moved at a million miles a minutes, constantly pulling him in different directions and making social cues hard for him to notice.

You knew this but good god it was frustrating- sometimes holding a conversation with him was like trying to talk to a moving train. Occasionally you’d have to actually grab him to get him to look at you and get an answer to the question you’ve been asking him for the past five minutes.

Finally, you’d had enough- you had already told him twice that you wanted to go home. That you were tired and your feet hurt and he hadn’t seemed to notice. Every time the two of you would start heading back to the bike he’d get distracted.

You yanked your wrist away from where he had been dragging you towards another carnival game- storming off in the direction of the bikes.

He followed after you like a lost puppy- “Doll? Doll what’s wrong?”

You said nothing until you were at his motorcycle, arms crossed and scowling.

You’d been asking for an hour to go home and he’d ignored you- and as you told him his eyes went wide.

The two of you managed a (rough but productive) discussion, eventually settling on some code phrases to communicate when you felt like you were being ignored or not listened to.

While there are still rough patches, Paul actively attempted to listen better- blue eyes focusing hard as he clung to your words. You could tell sometimes he was trying to fit a square peg in a triangle hole- attempting to force his brain to understand what you were saying.

During those moments you’d calmly repeat the question again, smiling and giving his hand an encouraging squeeze while the words took purchase in his brain.

Every once and a while he’d miss an ‘I want to go home’ but you knew he was trying and, more often than not, all it took was a flirty pick-up line and a far too chaste kiss to have him dragging you back to the cave anyways.

MARKO

Marko’s Napoleon complex was pretty obvious when you first met him. He paraded around with a puffed out chest and a willingness to beat the shit out of anyone who looked at him wrong.

While his edges were a little rough he was always gentle towards you- a little overly cautious, sure, but you knew he just meant well. After all, you didn’t really know how long he’d been a vamp and for all you knew life as a human might have only felt like a dream at this point.

It was sweet how carefully he tended to you.

At first.

After the fifteenth time in one night of being fawned and coddled you felt frustration begin to bud in your chest. You were a human not a baby bird, tripping isn’t going to kill you and you’re ninety percent sure you don’t need to be wearing sunscreen at night.

You tried to discuss it with him gently, you knew he only did this because he cared for you but you explained that it was getting a bit excessive. You were fully capable of doing things on your own and his constant hovering was getting overbearing.

What was supposed to be a civilized conversation ended in a knock down drag out screaming match, the two of you yelling at the top of your lungs and scaring off anyone in a thirty foot radius.

He was trying to protect you! Humans aren’t like vamps! They can get hurt, they can fall and break bones- they can die. And he doesn’t... he doesn’t even want to think about-

....... never mind... he doesn’t even want to go there...

Marko puffed up, furious, and got on his bike; leaving you on the boardwalk alone with a sore throat and red face from yelling.

The two of you fumed for almost a week before his resolve cracked. He poked his head in to the window of your apartment, waiting with a soft-browed scowl before you let him inside.

Your conversation was tense as you tried to explain your individual perspectives, eventually conceding to meet in the middle.

He would cut back on his helicopter-esque hovering anytime you weren’t doing anything but sitting and you would try your best not to get hurt..

...But you still weren’t allowed to ride the bikes with anyone but him. He just doesn’t trust the other vamps with such precious cargo.

[marchioness-caprina]

You Like Me Not?

{ Part 2 }

Go Read ; { Part 1 }

Pairings : Takami Keigo ( Hawks) x Reader

Writing Style : 3rd Person

Warning : Mild Cussing, Stalker Tendencies.

Word Count : 1370

3rd Person's POV

" Seriously? You got a whole collection of Fantasy and Legacies?! " Kirishima gasped as his eyes gleamed with excitement; gazing at y/n who was kind enough to bail him out if the video game store he was in--- correction. They were in.

Earlier that Day; y/n was planning on buying a new game to her Liking since the last few days were spent rather freely with more time to relax and be lazy. For some reason but she's still suspicious to what her teacher is actually planning but hey, who says no to Free time? Especially Sundays.

And in that very shop she had spotted her Classmate; Kirishima who was in a pickle with the store's Manager because he had accidentally knocked over a shelf and destroyed 2 video games.

Poor Kirishima didn't carry enough money with him today to pay for the games he had accidentally destroyed and now it resulted to the shop manager angrily nagging Kirishima.

The look on his face looked so miserable y/n couldn't help but give her Classmate a Hand.

After all, Kirishima was one of the nice ones in the dorm and the two pretty much shared a close sibling like bond. So after y/n offered to pay for it. Kirishima didn't even try to hide his Joy and immediate hauled y/n to ride his shoulder and came out of the store with her riding his shoulders while parading with so much happiness it was contagious.

Now after awhile of the two teenagers laughing and 'celebrating' Kirishima had finally calmed down with y/n still riding his shoulders. The two kept up casual conversations like they would normally do in the dorms while ignoring the stage looks people passing by were giving the two.

" Yeah. I wasn't really intrested in that one at first but After playing the second series it got me hooked " Y/n replied placing her hand on Kirishima's head as the male continued walking.

" Are you kidding!? That Game was so Manly I could play it forever! " Kirishima's wide grin was urging y/n to smile along with him.

Having a friend like Kirishima was very refreshing he took her mind off of things. He's always so positive and cheerful he could shift her mood almost immediately.

" Heh, well if you'd like to hang in my room to play that game I wouldn't mind. I'd bet all my game collection that I'd beat you in the combat phase "

" Is that a challenge!? Because I'll accept it! Real men never back out from a challenge! "

" Yeah, yeah whatever sunshine but you're gonna have to pay me back with your time so I could beat you in video games "

" Hah! Only if you can y/n-chan"

" Oh I'd bet on it sunshine---"

" Well, well, well. What do we have here "

The pair paused in their tracks when a specific winged Hero had landed in front of them. A smug look on his face but his eyes held ferocity and dominance; the type of eyes you'd see from a Male Animal that had his Mate stolen.

" It's the No. 2 Hero Hawks! " Kirishima was unaware or more like oblivious to the deadly gaze Keigo was throwing him.

Keigo's eyes drifted to Kirishima's hands which were holding onto y/n's thighs, if you look at it in a different perspective it just looked like Kirishima was holding onto y/n'd thighs to keep her in place but in Keigo's eyes; He was asking for Death.

" Look y/n! It's Hawks "

" Yeah... I'm well aware of that Kiri " Y/n gave out a quiet sigh turning her head to face away from The Hero.

The lack of emotion from her tone as well as her expression which showed dislike after Seeing Keigo felt like a stab to the side. Keigo's Frustration began to rise but with his impeccable control of his actions and facial expression it was hard to see it that way .

" Well, someone's a bit Moody. Aren't you Happy to see me? After I came all the way here myself to say Hi to you? " Keigo smirked; masking his frustrations with a carefree smile.

" I don't know. Should I be Happy to see you? I think you got the wrong person. Sure I know you, you're the No. 2 hero bit that's it. I don't think I know you in a personal level " Y/n who finally had the guts to face him gave him a small and innocent smile .

Kirishima was slightly confused by their exchange of words was speechless and felt a little awkward.

" Ahh, so we're playing the ' I don't Know You' game. Well I advise you to stop because... It's not the least bit appeasing me at all Little Bird " Keigo stroked his chin; cocking his head to the side.

" Who said I'm doing this to appease You? Nevermind. Kiri let's go " Y/n looked down and gave a pleading look to Kirishima; the type of look where she looked like a dying puppy asking for help.

Kirishima got the message and he genuinely did not like to see a close friend of his in a tight spot Kirishima wanted to help like she did with him. He sensed how tense y/n was and the discomfort on her face was a good enough reason for him to flee.

" Hey y/n didn't Aizawa Sensei say he had something to discuss to us about the upcoming test we were going to have? "

" We did? --- oh yeah right. That, silly me I forgot. Let's go before sensei scolds us " Y/n awkwardly followed his lead and before she knew it; Kirishima was already jogging past Hawks while bidding him goodbye.

Y/n who was being carried away gave a small sigh of relief; she took the chance to glance back and what she saw nearly gave her a heart attack.

It was Hawks; Flying fast towards them with immense speed.

" Kiri Duck! "

" Duck!? Where? "

" No! I mean get Down! Now!--- ahh! " Y/n screamed in fright when she was torn away from Kirishima, Keigo's hands were tighty gripping onto her arms .

Keigo hovered above the ground by a few meters before gently placing her feet back on the ground and jolted back to the sky leaving the two teens stunned and confused.

" What the hell? Y/n are you Ok? "

" Huh? What? Oh I mean yeah... Yeah I'm fine...Why'd he do that though "

" I don't know.... I thought maybe you'd know why he reacted like that "

Meanwhile :

Keigo was seething with anger and jealousy combined. Who knew karma was doing such a great job at biting back his ass like a bitch.

He knew something was up when she didn't show up at his agency, and the day after that and the fucking day after that.

It took a lot of convincing and talking to himself like a mentally decayed crazy person telling himself that;

' she's just mad and she'll eventually come back here like usual'

And today he decided to embrace his creepy inner self and began stalking her. Yes a hero stalking a Little girl like an obsessive maniac isn't something he's proud of but he couldn't help it. If he can't see her today he might go mad and resort to...... Kidnapping.

And to his utter surprise when she finally cake out of the store; she was being intimate and riding the shoulder of another fucking male. Getting chummy and laughing together like .... Like well... Like they're Together.

It took every single fiber of his being from directly ripping her away from that red headed mongrel. He felt so threatened. Like she'd be snatched away any minute now.

The reason why he stole her away from that boy for a second was simple. He didn't like seeing her being touchy feely with another man.

Gods have mercy on the villain Hawks was going to encounter today; he needs to vent and it's gonna get Bloody.

...... To be continued