#to be clear. i drew her makeup the way i do mine.

[xzyumi]

boa hancock does her makeup chinese style i just know it

[irisintheafterglow]

HAND ONE - HIGH CARD

summary: in a season where you're determined to fly under the radar, newly-returned crown prince!touya todoroki has other ideas. in this hand, a duel is fought.

wc: 1.7k

cw/tags: royalty!au/regency!au, fem!reader, first meeting, touya's sass need its own warning

note: SURPRISE !! bet iris starting another series wasn't on your 2024 bingo (it wasn't on mine) but here we are! this whole series is based on this little idea from a few months back and will include swordfighting! fake dating! mutual pining! angst! balls! (the royal kind, not,,, yk) oh and many poker metaphors lol. hope you enjoy this first little exposition chapter :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are greatly appreciated <3

You would admire the spectacle of it all, had it not been for the aching pain in your feet. 

The hand-me-down heels from your estranged stepmother made it hard to focus on anything but your breathing as you tried to steady yourself against a nearby column in the palace garden. You could practically hear her shrill screaming in your ears for not doing enough to network among the other young nobles, for failing to present yourself as fit for bearing children you didn’t want. As the people you’d grown up with since birth milled about carefully-tended roses and large-bloomed peonies, you couldn’t imagine how they weren’t sweating all their caked-on makeup off in the stifling June heat. Fishing the lacy hand fan from your clutch, you relocate to a shadier side of the column under the stone walkway lining the garden. An aggressive snap echoes off nearby walls when you flick it open and sigh when the air hits your face. 

“You stole my spot,” comes a smooth male voice from the other side of the column. You don’t think the person is talking to you, but then you hear an amused snicker and a small thank you to who you assume is a passing servant. It’s awkwardly silent except for faraway conversations and the breeze blown from your fan until the man clears his throat. “I’m holding out a water to you, if you would kindly look over your shoulder.” Slightly irritated by the condescending tone in his voice, you look and, sure enough, there was a cold glass of water in the stranger’s white-gloved hand. You couldn’t see his face, nor the rest of his body, but something in your gut told you that it was safe. And, if it did happen to be poisoned, at least it got you out of another season. Carefully taking the glass from his long fingers, most of the tension in your body leaves after the first few sips slide down your throat. “Refreshing?”

“Very,” you answer cordially, in that airy tone your stepmother taught you. She said it was a fine way to attract suitors, which made you want to drop your voice several octaves whenever a potential husband drew near. “Thank you. That was very kind of you, Mister…?”

“My identity is irrelevant,” he says quickly and you turn your head in his direction, as if to hear him better. “Nor will I ask of yours, so consider this conversation akin to speaking to a wall.”

“From my perspective, I am speaking to a wall,” you point out and the stranger chuckles under his breath. “May I ask why you aren’t socializing with the others?”

“I could ask the same of you, considering that you’re cowering behind a column.” The jab was evident. Your mouth drops in indignancy and, had it not been for heat exhaustion and your nice spot in the shade, you would have decked whoever was on the other side of this conversation. 

“I am not cowering,” you huff, taking another sip and willing the temperature to decrease just a few degrees. “I am merely…taking a break.”

“Taking a break where no one else can find you? For ten minutes?”

“A woman values her privacy,” you argue. “And as far as I’m aware, you were able to find me quite easily. Perhaps you were the one trying to hide, and I was the one who stole your spot.”

“So, you do acknowledge that you are stealing from me.”

“Space in this garden is not something to be claimed unless you are of the royal family, dear stranger.” You hope he can hear the smirk in your tone. 

“And yet, here you are, stealing what is rightfully mine.” 

“And yet, here you are, stealing what is rightfully mine,” you echo in a nasally, mocking voice that would have placed you in major trouble if your parents knew how you were addressing others. “Cease your bratty ramblings as if you own this palace.” The man barks out a laugh, a reaction you didn’t anticipate. It makes your heart race a little faster, in spite of your will to stay casual. 

“Have suitors ever told you that you’re quite the firecracker?”

“Bold of you to assume they get as far as to speak with me,” you correct without hesitation. Presentations were one of the stupidest parts of your present society, along with those tiny sandwiches and that tea that tastes like boiled shoes. “If they decide to pursue me, that’s their first mistake.” The stranger hums in a low tone. 

“Maybe you haven’t found the right suitor, then,” he muses and, before you can answer, the royal bugles announce the beginning of the duels. Excited cheers and the clicking sound of heels on pavement take over any remaining conversations. You whirl around to the other side of the column, anxious to see the mysterious man you were conversing with, but find the other side as vacant as when you first passed it. Slightly disappointed, you find your place along the perimeter of the circular stone courtyard and wait for the king’s advisor to speak. 

“Today is a day of celebration,” he begins, and you mutter the rest of his speech that you’d heard for the past four years under your breath. The hair stands up on the back of your neck and instinct tells you that someone was watching you, but you can’t find who it is among the hundreds of people present. You think you’ve found the culprit when you lock your gaze with a pair of strikingly blue eyes, but they disappear before you can identify the rest of the person. “And, as you are most likely already aware, this year we welcome His Highness Prince Touya Todoroki to the presentation ceremonies. Though he is of a royal family, those that wish to court or be courted by His Highness may present themselves as suitors as they ordinarily would.”

“And will the Prince grace us with his esteemed presence, or is he preoccupied with his ordinarily outlandish activities?” Sneers and snide remarks ripple through the crowd and the advisor struggles to regain their attention. That is, until that same loud barking laugh that you heard from the other side of the column cuts through the murmurs and mutters.

The voice that follows makes your blood run cold in your veins. 

“How bold to assume any of you are worthy of breathing in my presence.” 

“Your Highness–” 

“Shut up,” he spits, shivers spreading over your skin as the crowd splits to reveal an unruly mass of spiked white hair. His eyes are paralyzingly bright, cold and narrow while they scan the vermin before him. The rumors that circulated of his intimidating nature paled in comparison to the man before you, tall and lean and radiating the most dangerous aura you’d ever come across. All the previously gloating eyes became that of rabbits hunted by a wolf when they came under his gaze…except for yours. By some odd stroke of Fate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d seen the Prince before, even though that was physically impossible. Maybe you’d passed another white-haired asshole in the market. “Well? Are we starting or shall you keep gawking until I staple your jaw shut?” The advisor stumbles, shrinking away like a mouse in a lion’s den. 

“Yes, Your Highness. May the first Lady to be courted please step forward!”

As the gowns start to swoop and the swords begin to swing, you’re again reminded of just how unnecessary the spectacle of presentation season always was. One by one, daughters of nobility presented themselves to the suitors, who would then step forward and duel one another for the opportunity to court the Lady. The fights were never to the death, of course, but the shame that came with losing more than one duel was close to it; nothing was more embarrassing, however, than having no suitors step forward when a Lady presented herself. It was your worst fear every season, one that you seemingly didn’t need to worry about this time around.

Still, you were met with the same pasty-faced suitor that had been attempting to win your hand for the past several seasons. He’d accumulated significantly more muscle mass since the previous season, but his hot-headed temper and objectifying tendencies were enough of a turn off to send him packing by the end of the first meeting. 

“You have rejected me time and time again, but that only makes you more enticing,” he declares, offering his hand to you while you roll your eyes behind your fan. Ladies who already received their matches swoon at his show of masculinity, but it only makes your stomach turn. “I will win you. That is my promise. And, if not this season, then the next, and I will persevere until the only eyes you look for in a room are mine.” 

“The only thing I would be looking for in a room with you is an exit,” you mutter. He doesn’t answer, eyeing you like you were a wise investment. Gross. 

“You’d do well to accept me.” Your attention darts upward and you meet his stare, irritated at your lack of a response. The volume of his voice drops so that only you two can hear it as he comes to stand inches away from your face. “It’s not like you have the privilege of other options. Marry me or life as a spinster is your only future.” 

“I wouldn’t marry you if the entire kingdom was at stake,” you hiss and his mouth turns up in a snarl, ready to bite out a response when the shing! of a sword being pulled from its sheath echoes through the courtyard. A quiet verbal commotion sets into the crowd, but you’re unable to see anything beyond the asshole before you. 

"Your business is with me, not her," warns a dangerously familiar voice and the man in front of you stiffens. "Let's get this over with."

“The…ahem…duel will begin once both suitors are in first positions,” the advisor relays with great hesitation. You’d never experienced a duel for your hand, yet it seemed that another man had been dealt into the game. With his face drained of its remaining color, Pasty-face draws his blade like an inexperienced marionette, clunky and jagged, as he takes his place in the circle, allowing you to catch the eye of his opponent, molten blue eyes that make your knees turn gelatinous. The prince was dueling for your hand. 

Prince Touya of the Todoroki family was dueling for your hand. 

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Idk if this is ok but can I sent honmei choco to male Raven from the April fool’s day event ;u; (yes my thirst for Da Boi transcends dimensions) “Raven-kun!! Hi, hello!! Fancy seeing you here. I wished really hard to meet you again and I think my wish has been granted! I don’t know if you even remember little ol’ me but I remember you. I missed you more than I care to admit and, well, I made these truffles thinking of you but not knowing if I could ever deliver them. So um h-here. Be mine?”

This ask was an old one from 2022's Sweet on You/Love is in the Air Valentine's Day themed blog event! The idea was to send chocolates to your desired boy. I missed the chance to reply to this one for April Fools in 2023 so I figured I'd get it out in honor of this year's April 1st!

For people who are confused about this character 💀 There was a joke event called “Raven Redux”, which featured the reader (you!) being transported to a genderbent AU. A male Raven Crowley (my OC + blog’s mascot) then helps the reader find a way to their home universe. He ended up being uh... pretty popular?

Even if it's just for a little while... Let's return to that other world!

***Art is by tinyfantasminha!***

“A dream is a wish your heart makes.”

That was what the headmaster had told you when you came to him with your troubles. A gaping hole in your chest, a longing that had yet to be fulfilled. Crowley had looked at you with pity, warbling as he smoothed a hand over your head.

“Speak your most heartfelt dream, your wish, to the Mirror of Darkness, and it shall take you there… to him.”

Now here you stood before the portal between places… and worlds. You hugged a box of truffles to your chest and took a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. Your reflection rippled in the mirror—then wildly distorted once you plunged into it.

A sharp exhale as coldness enveloped you. All the air from your lungs expelled, as if you were screaming with all your might, even if no words ever left your lips.

Your feet met solid ground.

You slowly opened your eyes.

The attic.

You were in Raven’s attic, her nest, her humble abode. A place built of papers and ink, tomes and tales. But was it the right Raven?

You steadily approached the feathered figure seated behind the writing desk. Each step as quiet as a mouse. No matter the Raven, you didn’t wish to disturb their creative process.

They reclined with a sigh, head draped over the top rail of their chair.

That’s…

A cap of midnight fell over his haughty face. Dark blue makeup colored closed lids, decorative dots lining his lower lashes. And there, dangling from his pointed right ear, was a golden feather earring.

He seemed set deep in thought, taking no heed of you. Willowy limbs splayed out, his vest generously opened to display the rise and fall of his chest. Dreaming, perhaps.

It was as though he was a sleeping prince encased in glass coffin. Awaiting his special someone to sweep him off his feet.

It’s him.

You cleared your throat—rousing him from his rest. He bolted upward, swiveling in your direction. His eyes were wide with alarm.

“Raven-kun!! Hi, hello!!” you called out with a bashful wave. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You’re…!” He stopped himself, reining in his shock and replacing it with what he hoped was casual coldness. “What are you doing here, worm?!”

You giggled nervously. “I wished really hard to meet you again and I think my wish has been granted! I don’t know if you even remember little ol’ me but I remember you.”

“… By the Seven, you’re absolutely hopeless,” Raven muttered.

He drew himself up from his seat. You yelped, taking a step back. It had been too long; you’d forgotten just how tall he was compared to your typical Raven.

“My memory isn’t that bad,” he scoffed. “How could I forget the fool who dared to tread in my territory and then groveled at my feet for assistance? In any case, it looks as though you’ll be needing it a second time.

“Wishing to see me again like this, reliving that old story… You must be truly desperate, hmm?”

Ah, yes. There it was—his silver tongue, sharpened for use as a bladed weapon. A dishonest defense.

Your chest fluttered.

“I missed you more than I care to admit,” you confessed, cheeks warming, “and, well, I made these truffles thinking of you but not knowing if I could ever deliver them.”

You held out the box of truffles to him.

“So, um… h-here.”

“This is…” Raven hesitated. “A heart-shaped box secured with a sparkling ribbon, with chocolates inside… It’s the sort of thing gifted to long-held crushes and lovers. You… You’re not being serious, are you?”

But you nodded, refuting him.

“I’m totally serious about you, Raven-kun,” you declared, your voice trembling. “B-Be mine?”

Surprise flickered through his face. Subtle, fleeting. His arrogance then returned, an attempt to cover the moment of weakness.

“Hoh? What’s this? Seems you grew a spine since last we met.” Wearing a smirk, Raven plucked the truffles up. “It would be rude of me to refuse your offering after you’ve pleaded for my affection and traveled all this way.”

“Y-You accept them? My feelings…”

“I didn’t say that.” He waggled a finger. The truffles, shoved inside of a drawer like some treasure stowed away for safekeeping. “Sweets and sentiments are two entirely different matters. I’m afraid that a bird is never to be tied down—the sky always calls to it.”

“Oh.” You deflated, lowering your gaze to the ink-stained floor. “Th-That’s okay, I shouldn’t have assumed…”

"Don’t make that sorry expression,” Raven sighed, frowning. "Sadness is unbecoming. No one wears it well."

I despise seeing on you. Because of me, you're making such a face... and I cannot even bring myself to properly apologize.

His chest ached.

“Look at me. Hate me,” he had once written--the tale of his isolating curse. “It is a better fate than languishing in history and being forgotten altogether.”

Suddenly, the short distance between the two of you seemed like oceans apart.

He could reach out, offer his hand. He could blurt out all that was running through his mind.

I was so lonely ever since you left. Let's make up that lost time. Tell me about yourself, about your world. How have you been? Do you still care for me, despite going through all my vitriol?

But he couldn't. No, he shouldn't.

Raven sucked in a breath through his teeth. Dancing with danger, tempting fate. He would dare, this one time.

“... Come here.”

"What?"

"I said, come here," he repeated, a little louder. His arms were out, hesitantly spread just wide enough for you to slip in. Raven, embarrassed, hastily glanced away from you.

“I failed to prepare a gift to return the favor—of course, you can’t really blame me, can you? Your appearance was unannounced. Accept this in its place… one moment of respite in my arms."

“R-Really?!”

“Hurry up before I change my mind.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

It was strange, shuffling into the folds of his arms. You had never been this close to him before—body and body, soul to soul. He smelled of pages and chilled rain, the darkness and the stars between it.

Raven was a painting come to life, speckled with intricate details you could only glean from up close. The curious twinkle in his eyes, the way his long, dark lashes flutter like wings, the pout to his mouth. From far away, he presented cool, untouchable.

Now…

He was strangely gentle. Almost vulnerable.

A bird crafted of glass, set to shatter by your hand.

“… Stop staring,” Raven grumbled. “I’ve told you before, haven’t I? It’s terribly rude. Not an ounce of good manners in you, is there?”

“Haha… No, I guess not,” you replied softly—noncommittal as you nestled snuggly into him.

“Hmph. Getting comfortable so soon?”

“Yup. Your feathers are fluffy and warm.”

A scoff. “… For what it’s worth, we can stay like this for as long as you like. Be thankful for my magnanimity.”

You smiled, and it set his pulse drumming. A new idea, born.

“I am.”

[fvckingwolfstar]

Lipstick, and How Normal Joan is All The Time

Pairing: fem!John Lennon x Fem! George Harrison

summary: George’s lipstick suits her really well. And Joan is so normal all the time

genre: fluff for once!

wc: 1,354

cw: nothing!

authors note: i was called to create lennison fluff, so here we are.

masterlist

It wasn’t a big deal to Joan, really. It was just a shade of lipstick. A deep, satin red, that suited George’s sharp face. Sometimes she would wear a clear lip gloss over it too, which was not a big deal. Occasionally, when her hair was a bit longer, she would style it in a way that so perfectly framed her face. It drew Joan’s eyes right to her dark lips. 

Often, she thought about kissing her, some of the color transferring from her lips to her own. George was wearing that color yesterday, actually. And Joan could not seem to focus on practice. 

“Joan, you missed the entrance,” Paul said, her lips pursed together. 

Joan shook her head, looking back at the guitar in her lap, “Sorry, I’m off it today.”

George was wearing the same lipstick again today, the gloss too. Joan, ever so smart, took off her glasses. During lunch, most of the color had smudged off, so Joan assumed it would be safe to put her glasses back on. As she did, she noticed George pulling a small folding mirror out of her purse. Fuck. She tried not to watch George apply the lipstick across her smooth mouth. And then she tried not to watch her put the pretty clear lip gloss on top of it. And, really she did try, to not watch her rub her lips together, and open them with a cute pop!

Joan blushed, looking down at her sandwich. She didn’t wear makeup when she didn’t have to, and when she did it was only for television. It’s a good day in hell when she wears it on stage. That’s because you don’t do it right. You never use enough powder. Paul would say, patting under her eyes with a puff. 

Joan wouldn’t mind if someone did it for her, to be honest. But it was too much of a hassle to do herself, especially when it never looked good. That night, the girls decided to stay at Paul’s place, due to an early morning. 

Paul’s alarm wakes everyone up with a start, and while Paul trudges to the kitchen to get everyone a cup of tea, Joan’s eyes drift to George on the floor next to her. She’s sat up, her hands slapping her face lightly to wake herself up. She didn’t take her makeup off before she fell asleep, so her lipstick was smudged across her cheek. Oh. Joan sat up beside her and poked her cheek.

George looked over groggily, “Mornin’,” she grumbled, standing up. She stumbled into the kitchen where Joan heard Paul laugh at the sight of her. 

“If you need a wipe, you know I have a thousand.”

“What’re you on about, Macca?”

“Look at your face.”

A second of silence before, “Fuck.”

George walked out of the kitchen with her cup and grabbed her makeup bag, “You weren’t gonna tell me?” She asks Joan and Ringo who still laid in her pile of blankets. 

Joan shrugged, and George rolled her eyes, turning for the bathroom. Joan could see the light emanating from the room, the door wasn’t closed. So she stood up, going to lean on the doorframe. George looked at her from the corner of her eyes as she wiped the color from her cheeks, “Yeah, Len?”

Joan froze, she hadn’t thought about what she would say, and her wit was not coming to her this early in the morning. She settled on, “I like your makeup.”

George furrowed her brows, “Okay.”

“Would you do mine today?” she asked, tugging at the bottom of her shirt, a bit of nerves making it hard to sound confident. 

Luckily, George didn’t seem to notice the nervousness, “Why don’t you ask Paul? She does it better than I do,” she hums, throwing the wipe away. 

Joan shrugged, “I like the way you do it better, Paul’s makes her look too girly.”

George nodded in understanding. “Mhm, I can do yours after mine,” she said, pulling her hair back. Joan nodded and stood there, observing as she put on her moisturizer, “I’ll be a minute,” George hummed, shooting another side-eye her way. Joan swallowed quickly and walked to the kitchen. 

In there, Ringo and Paul leaned against the counter, drinking from their cups lazily. She grabs the lone cup beside them and stands next to Paul. She turns to her, “Do you think I would look good in a lipstick like George’s?”

Paul tilts her head to the side, taking in Joan’s features. After a moment she hums, “No, you’d be better in a neutral color. Maybe a soft pink?” she said, contemplating, “Ooh, or peach.”

Ringo nodded, “Peach would be nice, I think I have some if you want to use it.”

Joan nodded, going back to her tea. George came out of the bathroom about twenty minutes later. She looked at Joan, “Ready now?” she asked. Joan bit back a smile as she followed George into the bathroom, her lipstick fresh on her mouth. No gloss today, which would help Joan keep her focus better. 

George instructed her to sit on the counter, which Joan obeyed, her legs kicking slightly as George rummaged through her makeup bag. “Do you want to learn how to do your own makeup, or do you just want me to do it?”

Joan smirked, “You know the answer to that.”

George nodded and went to stand in front of her, she took a generous amount of moisturizer on her fingers and dotted it across her forehead, cheeks, nose, and chin. When she started gently rubbing it in, Joan could feel her cheeks burn pink. This close, she didn’t need her glasses to see George clearly. She exaggerated her cupid’s bow with the beautiful color. And her full bottom lip seemed to be even poutier. She also noticed the soft shimmery purple eyeshadow and mascara. The purple made her brown eyes look larger, more like a doe. She hadn’t done her hair yet, but it was let out of the ponytail it was once in, and the soft waves of her bangs fell in her eyes. 

George had moved onto blush by now, dusting a sweet rose color across her cheeks. “I think you’d look good with an eyeliner,” George notes, absentmindedly. 

Joan blushed at the thought of George putting eyeliner on her, “Go for it, then.”

George grinned excitedly, her shoulders coming up quickly. She reached for her bag again and pulled out an eyeshadow palette, mascara, and the previously mentioned eyeliner. 

“Eyes closed,” she said. She dusted a light taupe on her outer crease. Then a darker brown in the deeper parts of her eyes. She used a flesh pink for her inner eyes. “Okay, hold still,” George cupped Joan’s face with her hand to steady her, and Joan could not breathe. She opened her eyes and George tsked, “Eyes closed.” 

Joan glanced at her lips again before doing as told. She leaned in close enough that Joan could feel her breath hit her face gently, the breaths coming out steadily as she focused on the task at hand. When George pulled away after several excruciating minutes, Joan opened her eyes again. 

“Look up,” she hums, and Joan obeys as told. George carefully puts mascara on her top and bottom lashes, “There, gorgeous,” She said proudly, putting the makeup back in her bag.

“Don’t I need lipstick?” Joan asked.

“‘M not sure if I have a color that fits you,” she said, rummaging through her bag again. When she looked back at Joan again, Joan leaned in and kissed her softly. George’s eyebrows raise in surprise, a blush creeping to her cheeks, “What was that for?” She asked once Joan pulled away. 

“Did I get any on me?” she asked, turning to the mirror, a little bit of her lipstick had transferred to her, a bit of the satin sheen shining on her lips. 

“You could use a bit more,” George said softly, a smile playing at her lips. 

Joan grinned and kissed her again, hopefully getting the pink color Paul talked about. 

[ericas-music-exploration]

The Rise of Mystical Syzygy

Mystical Syzygy a rock star on the come up. When looking at Mystical Syzygy you can definitely see them as a pop, rock type of person from the hot pink stars to her incredible makeup routine. Mystical Syzygy definity holds her self to her inner rock star. On the outside it’s not hard to determine that Mystical Syzygy as a growing rock star.

Mystical Syzygy (Vanessa) is a coworker of mine and I asked her some questions so I could learn about the life, feel, and thought process of a “musician in practice” or a “creative”. Growing up with music Mystical Syzygy has always had a love for it with playing the drums as a kid to singing her heart out attempting to hit those Mariah Carey high notes she always had love for music. But it wasn’t until 2020 that she took music more seriously. With the pandemic shattering souls and bringing people down Vanessa took the hurt and the grief of her loved one and drew back to music. She needed a creative outlet to release emotion and with her prior love for music this was perfect.

She began using this outlet by playing the ukulele; she then moved to guitar and then conquered the keyboard. Once the pandemic cleared up a bit in 2021 Vanessa started working for a musician who exposed her to public singing and taught her the ins and outs of the industry. Public singing was a bit challenging at first due to the fact that she thought it was terrifying as a kid, but working as a waitress and doing smaller gigs has helped Vanessa get over that terrifying feeling. As an adult she says that the people go there to listen to you so it doesn’t even matter. With all the lights in your face all these people just turn into a couple of bodies in the distance. She told me this funny story about this one time she was doing sound check for a band and they were like say something so she instantly says “something” now with the crowd hearing her they became engaged with her on stage (AWKARDDDD) since she was just doing sound check she had to say a few things so that they can check, so she decided to say the ABC’s but backwards every one was fascinated and she stopped mid way and was like “whatttt”? You’ve  never heard the ABC’s backwards”? Then continued. 

The band she was sound checking for soon asked her to join them, which was a fun experience at first but like all good things they had to come to an end. “The thing about creatives is they are sometimes the hardest people to deal with at times,” Vanessa explained. She played rhythm guitar for the band, she liked it because it is very consistent. She had a lot of fun in the “jam sessions” but, working in a band with a lot of creatives caused some major issues especially due to the fact that a band is a business and you have to treat it like such at times. She threw around the term “creatives” quite often and as a person with little to no music knowledge I had to ask what these creative people are like. I know the term as describing something but she used the term as their own people. She defined “creative” as “Someone engulfed in the madness of their mind as they find tools to express themselves in ways that feel authentic & unique. Sometimes, a psychopath cus it feels like you have to be one but that’s okay. They are also people who have an endless hunger to express themselves”. With herself included she is a fellow creative and she is just getting started. Although the band scene wasn’t for her it was definitely an experience she needed to continue her path. In the future she would prefer solo’s or collabs but the band scene isn’t her favorite.

With no straight direction she knows some avenues she wants to take. Right now she has a rock indie vibe going for herself but down the line she wants to make Tracey-darkwave club music eventually or instrumentals for poetry wherever the wind takes her I guess. She is also studying to do DJ work or engineer to find her own sounds. Or maybe she’ll branch more off into her singing career. Mystical Syzygy told me that there is a difference between what you like to listen to vs what you're capable of doing. She explains that she loves the “expression of words” and how “the voice is an instrument itself and it is so impactful” due to all her yelling and screaming from her “emo” phase has shifted her voice. She later explains how she doesn’t know what the future has in store for her and she doesn’t take it to seriously she just has fun with that being said she stated “maybe that is just the rockstar mentality”.

Mystical Syzygy is inspired by Brakence & Tamino along with Cat Clyde, Amy Lee, & Lorde. The music industry could be pretty challenging and can take people through different things but the crazy adventures each artist goes through on their own to develop themselves. I believe it is extremely important for these “creatives” to have these experiences that will shape their music. Now I am far from a musician but I truey admire the dedication and work that these musicians put into their music and its truly a wonderful thing.

[frogtanii]

warm.

it’s too warm, was your first waking thought as you sluggishly waded through the mound of blankets that encompassed you to get a breath of fresh air (you assumed bokuto and kuroo were the culprits for your warm and fuzzy hellhole). your eyes first fell on the television playing the credits to the second or third pirates of the caribbean movie on mute, the remote haphazardly thrown somewhere to your left as though the person who did so left in a hurry.

speaking of people, there was no one left in the room as you slowly joined the land of the living. a part of you suspected everyone had gone to bed but atsumu or akaashi would’ve woken you up if that had been the case.

belatedly, you recognized voices coming from the front door and your still sleep-addled brain lit up. oh! you thought. food must be here! untangling yourself from the blankets proved to be an exhausting feat because by the time you were done, your body was covered in a sheen of sweat underneath oikawa’s sweats and sakusa’s hoodie.

ugh, gross.

you began to make your way towards the door, the blood rushing through your head preventing you from hearing the details of conversation but knowing atsumu, he was just haggling for a lower price even though you told him repeatedly, that isn’t how pizza places work tsum.

as you drew nearer to the commotion, you started to pick up on the heavy tension in the air, leaving you extremely uncomfortable. you had no idea what the cause of it was but you did know it was making most of the boys upset, who, by the way, hadn’t noticed you creeping around just yet.

a feminine voice rang out from outside the doorway and though you were still attempting to gain your hearing, the sound sent chills down your spine. it sounded saccharine, sweet, familiar, and oh so evil.

even with a head full of cotton, you figured now wouldn’t be the best time to reveal yourself, what with the clear discomfort permeating the atmosphere, but your big fat mouth apparently had other plans.

“‘tsum, just let the poor pizza lady go,” you muttered, the beginnings of a headache making itself known at the back of your skull. you were a little too caught up with the dwarf banging at your head with a sledgehammer to notice the shock that everyone in the room turned to look at you with.

a gentle hand grasped at your forearm, whispering something into your ear before attempting to pull you back to the living room, but that same familiar voice from the door kept you planted where you stood.

“oh, the princess finally makes herself known,” meiko sneered, her face finally coming into focus, striking you with pang of fear straight through your heart. “funny, i thought i left you speechless the last time we... ‘talked’.”

“ya shut yer fuckin mouth,” atsumu lunged at her but was stopped by sakusa’s arm around his waist, successfully holding him in place. meiko just giggled, taking a step into the house, her heels clicking as she glided across the hardwood floors.

in the back of your head, you noted that meiko looked unusually beautiful, her makeup flawlessly done and her outfit complementing it perfectly, almost reminiscent of how she used to be before... well, just “before”.

you watched the boys unconsciously angle themselves as a protective wall around you, the person holding your arm (who you now realized was koushi) pulling you in tighter until your back was resting against his chest.

a part of you couldn’t help but feel a little suffocated but the other, more self preserving, bit felt irrationally safe and protected around these boys. it was nice... or it would’ve been if meiko wasn’t taking herself on a tour around the house as though she hadn’t been living there for almost the past year.

“you all can tone down on the guard dog act. i’m not here to fight,” she said as she pretended to wipe dust off the island. “you’re not?” bokuto’s skeptical voice rose up from behind you, one of his hands finding yours underneath the massive sleeves of your (sakusa’s) hoodie.

meiko shook her head with an empty smile, her perfectly painted red lips stretching unnaturally wide. “no, of course not! i’ve just come here to collect.”

the boys collectively tensed around you, akaashi whispering for kenma to go find yachi and quickly. as he slipped away, you made eye contact with sakusa who gave you an imperceptible nod that you assumed meant one thing — keep her talking.

“collect what?” you asked, your voice coming out weaker than you wanted, but you hoped she didn’t notice. she cocked her head as her eyes snapped to you as if she’d forgotten you were there, but judging by her growing smirk, you knew that wasn’t the case.

“my boys of course!” meiko clapped gleefully, clicking her way over toward kuroo to run her hand over his bicep, laughing when he jolted away from her touch. “they’ve always been mine, you know that don’t you?”

it felt like a cold bucket of water had been dropped over your head. you felt frozen again, the same feeling of dread creeping up your spine as it did when meiko attacked you. in turn, you barely noticed kenma’s return who whispered something to sakusa — an action that didn’t go unnoticed by meiko.

“what’re my boys talking about? are you plotting against me?” she pouted, scooting closer to the pair. kenma visibly paled and moved to hide himself behind sakusa’s broad shoulders. “we aren’t doing anything, meiko.”

wrong answer.

“oh, we both know that isn’t the case kiyoomi. i’m not a fucking idiot.” meiko’s voice filled with venom before moving even closer still. you felt your heart beating rapidly in your chest, your hand gripping bokuto’s even tighter.

what if she brought some kind of weapon to the house? what if she hurt you? what if she hurt them?

before you could think, you were standing in front of the group, the boys calling out your name as meiko’s face lit up. “so the precious little princess wants to take a stand! let me have it then, huh? let me see what all the craze is about!”

despite the fear thudding in your chest, you stood tall, glaring at her with your head held high. “the boys are not yours, meiko,” you declared, her mouth instantly opening in protest but you refused to let her speak.

“they aren’t possessions or objects you can own and treat like shit. they are people, real living, breathing people and they aren’t mine either. they have full reign to do what they want, when they want, to make their own choices and decisions. and you know what? they didn’t choose you or me. they chose themselves and their happiness over any bullshit you or i could try and sell them. so please, for the love of god, get your shit together, put it in a box and take it to fucking therapy.”

by the end of your impromptu speech, your chest was heaving but you felt good. really good. adrenaline was rushing through your veins and you felt powerful. out the corner of your eye, you noticed osamu and daichi standing at the bottom of the stairs with something akin to awe on their faces.

yeah bitches. take it all in.

unfortunately, while you were basking in the feeling of badassery, you completely missed meiko’s eyes lighting up with pure, unadulterated,

rage.

you faintly heard someone call your name before you were taken to the ground by meiko leaping at you like an animal. the two of you scrambled about on the hardwood, her hands yanking at your clothes and leaving scratches on your skin but you were sure as hell giving her a run for her money.

you finally managed to get on top of her, pinning her arms to the ground but that wasn’t before you gained a hard elbow to the side and a bruise to your face. meiko thrashed and shook in your hold but you were not wavering, trying to keep her entirely still for...

well, for what exactly?

almost as though they were on cue, you heard the sound of police sirens wailing in the distance, growing louder as they drew closer to the house. underneath you, meiko’s eyes widened before she began fighting even harder than she’d done before, her erratic movements making it much more difficult to keep your hold on her.

luckily, you had extremely muscular men at your disposal, one of which (osamu — even though he was a dick, he was still incredibly muscular dick) held down meiko’s arms as the lapd stormed the building.

the police officers easily retracted meiko from your arms and cuffed her, taking her to the back of the cop car, despite her loud and insistent threats on you and everyone you love.

very disney villain-esque.

a kind looking officer helped you to your feet and walked you out to the porch where he began to ask you and the boys a few questions. you answered them honestly and you were genuinely proud of how well you were handling the whole situation when—

“bubs, you’re shaking.” sure enough, when you looked down at your hands, you were twitching uncontrollably, the reality of the events that just occurred finally sinking in.

you were just attacked. again.

you and your friends were threatened.

meiko was sitting in the back of a fucking cop car.

“what the fuck,” you whispered, eyes staring unblinking at your palms. the same officer mentioned something about shock, prompting all the boys to gather around you; atsumu pulled you in between him and sakusa, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, kenma and bokuto took hold of your quivering hands, sugawara and oikawa sat off to the side watching you with blatant concern, and kuroo and akaashi spoke to the officer in hushed tones.

the man nodded and shook their hands before shooting you a pitying smile and heading back to the car where meiko was waiting.

“it’s over angel, ‘s over,” atsumu muttered into your hair, pressing kisses to your forehead in between each phrase. you leaned into his touch but you refused to take your eyes off meiko who was watching the whole scene from the backseat, her eyes wide with anger, hurt, and confusion.

you didn’t bother dwelling on it, instead focusing on evening out your breathing and looking at the car drive over the horizon. you heard yachi’s soft voice calling everyone inside, atsumu lifting you up to your feet and walking with you, never once taking his hands off of you.

still, his words echoed in your head, even as yachi spoke of the end of the hyper house, even as the boys brought you to your room, and even as they all automatically cuddled around you in an attempt to get you to sleep.

it’s over. it’s all finally over.

you couldn’t keep the grin off your face if you tried.

℗ poker face

it’s over

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - OK THE TITLE IS MISLEADING THE STORY IS NOT OVER YET SKENSM (there are 2 more official story chapters before all the endings :3) also m not the biggest fan of this chapter?? so i’d love to hear what y’all think <33 don’t forget to feed me!!

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

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the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[paperbodiesamongthestars]

Day 22: Yellow

John Harrington stood in the foyer of his house in Loch Nora, brow furrowed. It was the first time in his life that he had come home to find the house looking so...occupied. And sure, he and Irene hadn’t mentioned that they were coming back to Hawkins because it had been so last minute, but even so, Steve usually did a better job keeping it looking tidy. He was expected to do a better job. 

John moved further into the house, noting new details. Steve’s sneakers were in the front hallway, alongside a pair of heavy boots, and every hook on the coat rack was filled. John saw two leather jackets that he was sure didn’t belong to Steve and a denim jacket covered in patches that he also didn’t recognize. The coffee table in the living room was covered in books and papers, and there was a stack of dirty plates in the sink. John set his bags down and glanced over at Irene, but she seemed as bemused as he was. 

The basement door stood open, and they followed a heavy clank of metal on metal down the stairs. John stopped dead at the bottom, taking in the scene. All the furniture in the room was pushed up against the walls to create an open space in the center, where Steve was on his back on a weight bench. He was breathing heavily as he pressed up a bar with what seemed like a significant amount of weight on it. Another boy, blond and built like he knew exactly what he was doing with a set of weights, was spotting him. Steve finished a rep with clear effort and set the bar back on the rack. John glanced over at Irene, who had a little smile on her face. He frowned; she had always been too lenient with their son.  

“Ugh,” Steve said, “I thought I would be able to do more reps.” The blond smirked down at him. 

“You gotta be patient, pretty boy.” He flexed a bicep and turned to kiss it. “You don’t get results like these overnight.” Steve rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh. 

“Steven?” John said, and the effect was immediate. Steve’s head whipped around and he started to quickly sit up. The other boy threw a protective hand between Steve’s forehead and the bar, preventing what probably would have been a painful collision. Steve didn’t take his gaze off of John as he ducked past the bar and sat up. The boy let his hand drop back to his side, but he took a step closer to Steve.  

“Mom, Dad,” Steve said, standing up. “I didn’t know you were coming home.”

“Clearly,” John said, waving a hand at the stairs behind him. Steve flushed a little and his brows drew down. John opened his mouth to demand an explanation, but Irene’s hand was suddenly at his elbow, gently pulling him back toward the stairs. He glowered at her, but her eyes were on Steve and the other boy.  

“We’ll need to unpack and freshen up,” she said calmly, glancing at her watch. “Dinner will be served at seven.” She looked back up. “I assume you boys will have no trouble being ready by then?” The two of them exchanged a quick, wordless glance that appeared to contain an entire conversation. 

“No problem, Mom,” Steve said. “We can be ready.” 

“Lovely,” Irene said with a smile, and then she steered John back upstairs. They picked up their bags in the foyer and John followed Irene to the second floor. He was thinking about the argument he was about to have with his wife about her intervention, but he stopped dead at the door to Steve’s room. His jaw dropped as he pushed the door open wider. 

“Are you seeing this?” he demanded. Irene nodded slowly as she took in the room. The plaid wallpaper was gone. Instead, three of the walls were a cool grey color. The fourth wall, opposite Steve’s bed, was a bright, cheerful yellow. “Did you approve this?” John asked Irene, who had that small smile on her face again. 

“I would have,” she said, “but he didn’t ask.” John shook his head. “Unbelievable.” Steve was behaving as though the house belonged to him. Whoever the other boy was, he was clearly a bad influence.

“What the hell was that, downstairs?” John demanded of Irene as soon as the door to the master suite closed behind them.

“Exactly what I looked like, I expect,” she said serenely, opening her suitcase and pulling out her toiletry bag.

“You know what I meant. I’m not sure why you intervened. He owes us an explanation,” John said. 

“And he can provide one over dinner, if you absolutely insist,” she replied.  

“And since when does Steve lift weights?” he demanded, irritated all over again that he had come home to a house that had changed, and a son who hadn’t yet apologized for it. 

“Oh, I imagine those came with the boy,” Irene said with that same little smile, her eyes sparkling with amusement. 

“You better believe that I will be talking to Steven about that situation. His friend seems far too at home in this house. It’s probably his fault everything is in disarray.”

“That’s a bit of an overstatement, don’t you think?” Irene asked absently. She was facing away from him, looking into the vanity mirror as she removed her makeup. 

“No, I don’t,” he said stubbornly. “The boy painted his room without consulting us, and the basement is barely usable.”

“I don’t see why that matters. You only ever spend time in your office when we’re here.” There was a pause. 

“It’s the principle of the thing,” John finally said. 

“Hmm,” was all Irene said in response. 

“I don’t see why you included that boy in our dinner plans. Steven should have sent him home as soon as we arrived.” Irene stopped what she was doing and turned to face her husband. Her expression was amused. 

“Darling,” she said patiently, and John knew she was growing irritated with him. She hadn’t called him that sincerely in a very long time. “You’re a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. There are three additional coats on the coat rack, and it’s sixty-eight degrees outside, so he didn't wear all of them over here today. Additionally, there isn’t a teenager in the world who brings every single one of his textbooks over for a study date, and most of those books were for classes that Steve isn’t even taking.” John frowned at that. He hadn’t noticed that because he didn’t know what classes Steve was taking. He was a little surprised that Irene did. She continued. “And that weight bench, as we both know, isn’t Steve’s. That boy is living here, and probably has been for a while.” She intentionally did not mention the thick Stephen King book and the pair of reading glasses John obviously hadn’t noticed on the second nightstand in Steve’s room. Horror had never been Steve’s preferred genre, and he didn’t wear glasses. 

“Well, I’m putting a stop to it,” John announced. Irene stared at him for a long moment, eyes going a little hard, though her smile stayed in place.

“We’re here for three days,” she said. “How exactly are you planning to control what Steve does after we leave?” 

“I’ll threaten to cut him off. That should communicate the seriousness of the situation.” Irene stared for a beat and then turned back around to continue removing her makeup.

“You’ll do no such thing,” she corrected calmly. 

“I’ll do as I see fit,” he shot back. She nodded to herself and set down the cloth in her hand. Then she turned around again, standing up to face him. 

“Have you forgotten who you’re dealing with?” she asked, voice low. She hadn’t bothered to raise her voice at him in years. “Because you seem to be under the mistaken impression that I’m one of the sycophants you insist on surrounding yourself with.” She took a step toward him. “Here’s what you’re actually going to do. You’re going to unpack and freshen up. You’re going to go do whatever it is you do in your office until it’s time for dinner, and then you’re going to come eat. You’re going to be polite to our son and his friend.” John raised his eyebrows at her. 

“I don’t see any reason why I should allow you to dictate my behavior,” he said, his tone condescending. Her answering smile was sharp. 

“You actually don’t know, do you?” she murmured, shaking her head. “Steve turned eighteen two months ago. I do hope your assistant remembered to send a gift.” She saw the significance of it land. John swallowed. “Just so that we’re on the same page,” she continued, “if you decide that it is a good idea to berate or threaten our son, who is an adult, or his friend, you will very quickly find yourself in the middle of some probably very contentious divorce proceedings.” John glared at her. 

“You wouldn’t,” he said confidently. “Your reputation stands to suffer as much as mine does.” 

“I don’t care,” she said bluntly. “It’s been years since I cared what anyone in Hawkins thinks of me. The only thing you had to hold over my head was custody, and now that our son is an adult, your leverage is gone.”

“You cannot—“ he started to say, but she took a step closer and cut him off. 

“We have an arrangement," she said, "and it's working. I get the freedom to live as I please most of the time, and you get the image of a perfect family on the rare occasions that you need it. It would be a shame to disrupt it simply because you are incapable of keeping your disapproval to yourself for three days.” John fumed, but he also backed down. He knew defeat when he heard it. He stalked off to the closet to change without further comment, unreasonably annoyed by the way Irene hummed to herself while she sat back down to finish removing her makeup. It wasn’t until later that he realized she had been humming Handel’s “Hail the Conquering Hero.”

An hour later, Irene had freshened up and was on her way down to the kitchen to start dinner. She stopped when she heard Steve’s hushed voice coming from the living room. 

“Billy, I’m serious!” Then Steve gasped as if he had just realized something and groaned. “Oh my god, they probably saw my room.” Billy huffed a laugh. 

“They should be thanking us for that, baby. The plaid wallpaper was a crime.”

“You don’t understand. My dad is going to—“ Steve stopped. “Hey, B, no,” he said in a softer voice. “Not like that. He’s not…I’m sorry. Come here.” Irene turned around and made her way silently back up the stairs, wanting to give her son and the boy he was obviously dating the time they deserved to finish their conversation. Dinner could wait. 

Irene smiled to herself as she thought about how delighted Annette would be to learn that Steve had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who was right about the plaid wallpaper—it had been John’s idea, after he saw it in a magazine somewhere. The yellow was a vast improvement. Maybe the bedroom in her apartment in Paris could use an accent wall, Irene mused. She couldn’t wait to get back there, as soon as their weekend of pretending to be a happily married couple was over. 

Your reputation stands to suffer, John had said, and he wasn’t wrong. The people of Hawkins would absolutely frown on her lifestyle, her life in Paris with her beloved Annette. But it certainly looked like that revelation wasn’t going to bother her son at all, and if Steve didn’t mind, Irene truly couldn’t care less if other people did. She smiled to herself again. When John finally figured it out, he was going to be furious, and there wasn't going to be a damn thing he could do about it. She found that thought immensely satisfying.

[writtenbysj]

A Ghost of A Memory| D.M

Summary: You and Draco we’re friends with benefits until your sanity ran dry.  WC: 2070

Warnings: angst, toxic relationship, vague sexual encounters, drinking, intoxication-- biggest warning: Toxic Daddy lol

A/N: Leave me requests. This a ravenclaw writing bc I’m ravenclaw and don’t know what houses my readers are.

“Time for you to go,” he said. His back faced you as he slipped into his shirt, looking out into the water of the lake. Being in the dungeons, there was a constant glow of rippling water around his Prefect dorm.

Balanced on an elbow, you kept the silk sheet loosely around your chest, “Got somewhere better to be, yeah?”

His lanky figure swiveled around, taking you in. Your hair disheveled and cheeks a wild hue of pink, just how he liked it. His lips curled into a half-smile as he approached you. Sitting up, you released the sheet--exposing your bare chest. It was more of a sentiment, a notion for no words. You were baring yourself to him, only him.

This rendezvous seemed to be never ending. It began when you were paired together as partners in potions. You a Ravenclaw, him a Slytherin and together you were paired together for a potions project. It was quite clear from the beginning that he had no intention of helping with the project, so in spite, you turned it in with your name only. That incident caused a heated verbal argument and the release of a few stinging jinxes that landed you both in detention.

“I’m a Malfoy, it’s a name not hard to remember,” he seethed. Seated beside him, you rolled your eyes, “Unfortunately so.”  “I’ve got better places to be than scrubbing cauldrons with a slag like you,” he huffed, scraping out the hardened waste. “Slag? Really, in what way do I qualify as a slag for, Malfoy?” He lowly chuckled, “Right. What was I thinking--who’d touch you? You would need to garner someones attention first. Not an easy task with your messy hair and wrinkled clothes.”                                                                                              Annoyed, you scooted back to face him, “Seems like I’ve sure caught your attention, yeah?” He was silent, his eyes fixed on yours. Feeling bold, you stood up and inched closer, “Are my clothes too wrinkled for you? Want me to take them off?”

You were only being sarcastic. Trying to disgust him, but you couldn’t ignore the heat that pooled in your lower abdomen. There was an invisible string that pulled you closer and closer until your heat was met with his knee. If he bounced his leg, he’d rub your clit. And you silently begged for it with your eyes. He slowly swallowed and licked his lips, his eyes trailing down to yours.

“I wont tell anyone,” you promised. He silently nodded as his hands trailed from your ribs to your bum, squeezing; he pulled you closer. Hesitantly  you straddled his lap, nervous you would awake him from a trance. But, it was the most peculiar feeling you two had. There was a mutual itch that needed to be scratched. A release that needed to be freed. Was it the tension? The verbal arguments? Had he wanted this too?

“Somewhere better than with a slag like me,” you were bitter, and you hated to admit it. It was supposed to be a tease, but at the end of the day, that’s what you were to him. He had made it quite clear. 

You had seen Astoria rushing to kiss him after he played your house in quidditch. Saw him with a blonde at the back of the library when you were up late studying. Even saw him sneaking into an alcove while on your Prefect rounds. It also didn’t help he was keen on parties, and enjoyed the talk that followed him. It hurt, but he always said the same thing, “you promised you wouldn’t tell anyone our first time.”

“Don’t sound so down, were both using each other,” he laughed. Despite being sordid, he had the purest smile that made it feel as though having him only for a bit was worth it.

“Right, yeah, well...let me know, I guess,” you said averting his gaze as you gathered your clothes from the floor. Slipping into your laced thong, you could see him watching your from the corner of your eye. It felt like a small victory to hold his attention.

--

“I’m telling you this party will be worth it. You need to drink this slump away,” your best friend, Willow, argued. “Right, well, I’m only going for the free alcohol,” you said. 

“Also a little birdy told me, Cormac McLaggen has had his eyes on you for a bit now,” she teased. 

“Cormac McLaggen? He’s a complete git, but he is fit I guess,” you replied, finishing your makeup. You wouldn’t admit it to Willow, but, he wasn’t Draco. 

But maybe this is what you needed to move on. Show him how it felt. You weren’t just a sex doll, that sucked and bent over when he told you to. This could be good, you thought.

--

Walking into the room of requirement, the noise was deafening. It was amazing that magic alone could contain the rowdy teenagers and shouts of the singing witches.

 “Fuck, this is not a place you can be sober at,” you laughed pulling Willow to the drink table. 

“Fuck no,” she yelled. Pouring you each a shot, you shouted, “to getting drunk”. “To getting drunk,” she mimicked laughing.

It was only an hour later, but shots of fire whiskey and swigs of varying concoctions began to make you feel light, free and even confident. Across the room, Cormac stood with his friends. You had been dancing with Willow, grinding into her while keeping his attention. There was a tent in his pants that was hard to ignore. Dropping your gaze you licked your lips and made your way off the dance floor.

Leaving his friends without a second thought, he met you in the middle. “Never knew you could dance like that,” he teased.

 “I only do it if I have someone to do it for,” you flirted, tilting your head to the side.  His arms wrapped around you, and drunkly fitted you against the wall.

His lips caressed your neck, as he made his way to your ear, “you’re fucking naughty, aren’t you?” You lowly giggled, “you tell me.” 

His lips furiously engulfed yours. It was a quick, hungry rhythm as though he had been thirsting for this for days. And to be honest, you had a longing to be wanted--no, needed.

You raked your hands through his hair, before eagerly tugging at his collar. You hastily bucked your hips into his pelvis, feeling a pulsing emit from his cock. Moaning into his ear, you lips nibbled against his earlobe.

It was a moment that felt that felt eternal, but was swiftly stollen from you. “McLaggen, thanks for getting her wet but I can take it from here.” You hear, uplifting you from a trance of sexual fire.

Your eyes darted to his. Your e/c meeting his enticing blue ones. There was a dominance present; one that you had only seen in the bedroom after the moon had risen into the sky. 

“Thanks, but I think he can handle it,” you interjected, returning in for more. But, a strong hand had gripped your shoulder, pulling you back.

“Don’t think you quite get it, darling,” he stated icily. 

Pulling away, Cormac’s dilated pupils sized Draco. He carefully raked his stature, sizing his battle before returning to you.

 “Something I should know about,” he questioned. His voice was thick, and laced with an alcohol that stenched your nostrils.

“No--” “Yes,” Draco cut you off. His grip pulling you closer. “I hate others touching what’s mine,” he continued.

 Rolling your eyes and huffing out, you made yourself available to him and you knew it. He could tell you to jump and you would ask how high? At the end of the day you were his and he knew it. You belonged to him no matter how much you hated it.

“Give me a minute,” you said, grazing his McLaggen chest. It was bulky, and you intended to enjoy it. He was muscular, but not the lean muscle you were enamored with. He was bulky, and filled with a man. But you longed for a boy built with struggle.

Stumbling away, Draco gripped your arm, “Fuck, how wasted are you? I get you’re a Ravenclaw, but a McLaggen...no, a Gryffindor--what the fuck?!” He was fuming, and it would be a lie to say you didn’t enjoy it.

A firm grace swept your lips; you were in control. “Don’t like it? What happened to no one wanting to touch me?”

“You’re drunk--we’re not doing this now.” He was fuming, boiled to the top and ready to spill over.

“Keep this energy when you're pegging the next slag,” you drew, yanking your arm away.

His snowy lashes profusely blinked as he soaked in your words, before yanking you through the door. Stumbling forward, you intended to keep up with his pace but it was useless. He was charging through hallways, and leading you through unknown ground. Before you knew it he was mumbling pureblood to the dungeon door and sweeping you back into his prefect room.

“Haven’t we done this before? You have a one-fuck limit per day, if I remember correctly.” You were smart with him, but then again you were at your limit. How much longer could you uphold this needy position that you were kept in.

He angrily plummeted his hands against the wall on both side of your head, “What the fuck are you on?!”

“Don’t know what you mean, Malfoy,” your eyes struck daggers into his soul. He could feel it and his stomach propelled lower. He was losing you. 

“You’re mine,” he argued, hoping the time you two spent meant something to you as it did him.

“But you’re not mine--are you,” you questioned. His grip loosened and you walked forward, making him back up until the back of his calfs reached his bed.

“I didn’t kiss you saturday at your match. I didn’t suck you off in the library. We haven’t done it in an alcove in weeks. This was a mutual agreement of us using each other and I’m calling it off.” You words with dripping with a truth that riddled you for weeks, and you were content.

You glowed in confidence as he stood dumbfounded...or so you thought. “We couldn’t be together even if we wanted to,” he argued.

“No,” you asked, a warm liquid pooling at your slit. 

“No. Everything I do is for you, we can’t be together,” he stated. His eyes glittered in truth, but you bit your lip in resistance. You studied the boy you knew so well.

You knew his soft side, and the way he cared for his mum. The way he hated stew, and that he hated his earlobe to be nibbled because he would rather give you the sensation. You knew so much, but at the same time so little.

“You don’t get to do this,” you poked his chest. Your lips twitched and your teeth bared, “You do not own me. No matter how bad you want to posses me. I’m not yours to keep.”

It was the truth he didn't want to hear. His eyes glanced down to the floor, following the familiar rhythm of water ripples, “I want you everyday. I would choose you every minute of everyday if I could.”

“Then choose me, Draco. Choose me. I stay here waiting like a lost puppy for you to want me and I can’t do this anymore. I’m losing myself. I feel like a piece of me is missing when you’re not around and all we do is fuck when you have the time. I long for you and it hurts.” Tears brimmed your eyes and your lip twitched into a quiver. How pathetic, you thought to yourself.

His eyes stared into your words; his mouth, not moving a syllable. 

“I’m too drunk for this. Maybe another day,” you said, running your hands into your eyes--you’re head shaking.

“No,” his voice was loud, almost too loud. His walls were crumbling as he saw you exiting his world. “Please, y/n. Don’t go now.”

Your lips formed a slim line and your shoulders shrug, “Can’t stop me if I’m already gone--can you?”

 It was a timeless game that came to an end. You teasing questions he already knew the answer to. And it hurt, it truly struck a match that you so bitterly did not want to light.

But until the day he opened up, bared his walls, and submitted his ego for realease...you were gone. A ghost of a memory that would drive him mad.

[ayanna-wild]

Wedding Bells

Word Count: 1600

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Warnings: the tiniest, smallest sprinkle of angst, but mostly just sickening fluff lol

A/N: This is a kind of older story from Wattpad, but I haven't had time to write a new one yet, because of cramming for exams, but don't fret my lovelies, I'll be getting back to writing requests very soon.

Summary: It was the day you'd been planning for months, the day that would change everything. It was like a dream, but the butterflies in your stomach, the way your leg bounced with unending anxiety and excitement reminded you that it was all real. That this day would be perfect, more perfect than you had ever hoped.

...............................................................................

Your day had started early, earlier than you had planned, but you woke long before your alarm had begun, long before the sunlight had graced the sky. You were quiet as you slipped out of bed, your fingers softly brushing the hair from your fiancé's face, a small smile pulling at your lips. He shifted a little, but remained soundly asleep. Your feet softly padded across the smooth cold floor as you headed towards the living room. 

The sight of a beautiful white gown hanging from the closet door caught your attention and you paused. You reached a hand out, softly tracing the lace and pearls that decorated the silk material. Today was the day, the day everything changed.

The day you married the devil.

"I do hope you're not getting cold feet darling, I'd be terribly embarrassed to be left at the altar."

The sound of your future husband's voice pulled you from your trance and you turned to face him, a small smile graving your lips.

"You're not supposed to be awake yet." You chided him softly.

He chuckled a bit, slipping out of bed to stand behind you. You leaned into his touch when he embraced you from behind, resting his chin on top of your head.

"I never did sleep well without you by my side." He murmured.

You placed your hands over where his wrapped around your waist. For a silent moment the two of you stood there, staring at the dress before you. The shaky breath Lucifer took in broke the silence and his words made your heart skip a beat.

"This is it isn't it? The day you become mine forever. My Queen. My darling wife." 

Your voice shook just a little as you spoke, the fluttering of the butterflies in your stomach spread goosebumps across your skin.

"Yeah, it is..."

Lucifer kissed your cheek as he released you from his hold.

"Mustn't dawdle darling, we've got a very busy day ahead of us."

You watched him disappear into the closet, and you looked back at your dress, fingers ghosting over the material one last time.

"Right... so much to do..."

You straightened your back, taking a small breath to steady yourself. With a small nod to yourself you walked out of the room, ready for whatever this day had in store for you.

~

Your morning seemed to drag on, and the longer it did the more your nerves grew, the more you wrung your hands, the more you resisted the urge to bite your nails that Lucifer had spent a fortune on.

Despite you insisting it wasn't necessary, but he'd insisted.

'Anything for my bride to be.' 

You smiled a little at the memory and bit your lip a little, careful not to smudge the makeup Linda had spent a careful amount of time doing for you. A hand rested on knee and you turned your head to look at Chloe.

"Are you okay? You're bouncing your leg a lot." 

You gave her a smile, one riddled with unspoken anxiety, underlined with excitement. She smiled back, fixing a stray curl in your hair Ella and Maze had spent so long on.

"I'm just nervous." 

"That's normal, I remember when I was marrying Dan, I was a bundle of nerves and stress, you're handling it a lot better than I am." Chloe laughed.

Her laugh put you more at ease, and  you found yourself laughing a long with her.

"I tend to internalize things." You shrugged.

Ella chimed in as well, and you were thankful for your four bridesmaids distraction. 

The ceremony drew nearer and people began to arrive at Lux; you insisted the wedding be there, it was first place Lucifer had ever truly called home and he was so happy when you told him you wanted to be married there.

But now you didn't want to leave the safety of the penthouse. You wanted nothing more than to walk down that aisle, marry the man you knew would give you the world if he could. However, the anxiety of it all was beginning to catch up to you and you found yourself unable to leave the bathroom you'd locked yourself in. Try as they might your bridesmaids could do nothing to convince you out. 

Linda volunteered to be the one to tell the groom of your unfortunate situation and Lucifer didn't look the least bit concerned. He simply looked out of the crowd of people, people you barely knew but had invited out of polite obligation. Your own family had refused to come, they'd never cared much for the devil. 

"I've just got the most splendid idea, you grab Daniel and Amenadiel, and meet me upstairs." Lucifer smiled cryptically.

Linda watched him walk away, standing there confused for a moment.

"Okay?" 

She went off to find the groomsmen. Dan had only been asked to be one because Lucifer knew you two were on good terms and friends, much to his disdain. Linda did as he asked, gathering everyone up, ushering them to the elevator as discreetly as she could. The crowd didn't seem to notice anything amiss.

When they stepped from the elevator they were surprised to see Lucifer and Maze moving furniture while Chloe and Ella decorated the penthouse with extra decorations left over. 

"What are you doing?" Dan was the first to ask.

"Why we're having a wedding Daniel! Don't just stand there, lend a hand!"

Dan shrugged before moving to help Amenadiel place the rug.

"Doctor be a dear and fetch my bride would you?" Lucifer hummed a little.

Linda stood there a moment, still trying to process everything.

"What about all the guests downstairs?"

"They've got the reception to enjoy, they'll be just fine, although this isn't really about them now it is?"

That was good enough for her and she walked to the bathroom, knocking lightly.

"Y/N, can you come out for a minute."

It was silent for a moment before there was a soft click of the lock. The door opened and Linda smiled.

"Come on, we have a surprise for you."

You could hardly believe your eyes, the penthouse although nothing extraordinary was decorated beautifully, and filled with the only people you truly cared where there. A small laugh escaped and you blinked back tears. Dan offered you his arm, as Linda took her place with the other bridesmaids. Dan led you closer to where Lucifer stood, more handsome than ever in his tux, Amenadiel standing ready to marry the two of you.

Lucifer watched you draw closer, and although he'd seen you in your dress before the sight of you now made his heart stop and he stood up straighter, his eyes refusing to look away from you for even a second, wanting to etch this moment into his memory forever. Amenadiel placed his hand on Lucifer's shoulder, smiling at his brother.

"Luci, you're crying." 

Lucifer cleared his throat, fixing his sleeves. He sputtered a moment, like he was trying to deny it but his expression softened and he found he didn't much care for the tears blurring his vision.

"Well of course I am brother! Just look at her... have you ever seen anyone more beautiful..."

Amenadiel smiled folding his hands in front of him in as Lucifer took your hands in his. Dan took his place beside Lucifer and the devil smiled at you.

"I'm sorry about putting you through all this trouble." You spoke softly.

He squeezed your hands a bit, his smile reassuringly.

"Darling it hardly matters where I marry you, just that I have you forever."

You smiled and Amenadiel cleared his throat.

"Can I continue?" 

Lucifer huffed, waving his brother off dismissively.

"Yes of course, let's hurry this along, I'm eager to begin my honeymoon."

You and the others laughed joyfully relieving the anxiety you'd been feeling. This was Lucifer, your best friend, the man or rather devil, you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. You had no reason to worry, and with that thought in mind, a warm content feeling settled over you.

As Amenadiel went through the ceremony Lucifer held your hands a little tighter, his eyes never leaving yours.

When Amenadiel finally announced you as husband and wife Lucifer had almost impatiently pulled you into that fateful kiss. Your small group of friends cheered and you had smiled so wide as Lucifer dipped you. 

The moment hadn't been what either of you had originally planned, but it had been perfect nonetheless. And you knew you wouldn't change a thing.

~

The other guests had been understanding and were more than happy to simply enjoy the reception with the new Mr. and Mrs. Morningstar. So you drank, and you laughed and you danced, and when you danced that slow dance with your husband you couldn't help the tears that escaped, prompting your new husband's worry.

"I'm crying because I'm happy Lucifer." You assured him.

He swayed with you in his arms, and you cupped his face in your hands.

"I married the man I love, surrounded only by the people who mean the most to me. Today was perfect and I wouldn't change a thing."

Lucifer smiled, giving you a soft kiss, before you rested your head on his shoulder as the two of you swayed to the soft melody of the song playing.

"And I will love you forever, my beautiful wife."

You smiled as he held you tighter, joyful tears filling both of your eyes, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You'd done it.

You said your vows.

You said I do.

And you had kissed that devil with everything you had, and you'd never been happier, knowing you'd spend the rest of time with the man who loved you the most by your side.

..................................................................................

Tag List: @sallyp-53 @mizzezm @adira-secrets @we-are-all-alittle-strange-here @gingernarwal @im-just-along-for-the-ride @lifeshortbro @measure-in-pain @emiwrites3reads @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @kelly-n-russell @aiofheavenandhell @beththedemonhunter

[littlefreya]

The Kitten & The Bear - Part 2

Read Part 1

Summary: Walter’s bratty wife has gotten herself in trouble with the law. meaning her own husband. 

Pairing: Detective Walter Marshall x OFC (first person pov)

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Bratty behaviour, dominant BDE husband, abuse of power, arrest, bondage, teasing, grinding, loads of sexual innuendo, mentions of oral, promiscuous behavior, fingering, lewd and dirty talk, manum sasquatch Walter.  

A/N: So both Marti and I were so anxious you guys won’t like it and we were literally overwhelmed by the amazing reception, so thank you so much guys! As promised, here is part 2! The thickens plot! Reminding you this is a collab between @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ and I based on your role play game. 

Title: The Kitten & the Bear

With the alcohol flushing through my veins, mingled with the sheer exhilaration of anger, I became more daring than ever.

“I think you are just scared because we both know you are never going to tame me.”

With the harsh grip of Walter's arm, I was yanked from the hood, turned and forced to look at his face.

"Do I look like I'm enjoying it?" It resonated in his mind that he was going to have to take his own wife, whom he'd just arrested, to the precinct where everyone knows him. 

'For fuck's sake!' This may jeopardise his career at MPD. A detective having a wife with a police record... 

'Fucking great'.

It's one thing that I acted like a brat at home, but that was his workplace, where he'd have to take me - looking like that. 

His cock twitched as he looked at my dress again.

~~~

Colder than the air itself, the deprived energy in Walter's cerulean gaze cut like diamonds. There was a battle in his glassy cold stare, and I recognised that furious desire, being the only person who really knew Walter Marshall. His hand was still on my wrists, pressing the cuffs hard against the small of my back and my thighs slightly parted as he stood too close.

I trembled and not just from the chilling cold. "If you are asking for my sincere opinion, then yes, I think you are, by the look of it," I answered and gandered down his groin and back at his face, giving him a bitchy grin. "I strictly remember ending with your head between my thighs last time I wore this dress" I provoked. "Hold on to that memory, it's going to be a while." 

Walter cocked his head to the side, pretending to think about my ultimatum, before suddenly stepping closer to haul me flush against him. I felt not only the warmth of the bulge at his groin but the cold hard outline of his gun against my stomach. I gasped as he leant close to my face and his lips hovered over mine while he ground his hips against me. 

A moan escaped me when he suddenly pulled back.

"Don't make threats you can't keep. Your little cunt is always hungry for attention."

Keylah and Stephanie exchanged astonished glares between them as they watched the heated battle. I continued to frown, trying to remain stoic, but the creeping chill made me tremble as the freezing metal of the car pressed against the back of my knees.

His obliviousness to how cold I was, the way he was treating me and his words only further fuelled my anger. I was like an unleashed hellcat, unable to stop my own stupid mouth.

"Don't test me. Both you and I know how clingy you are Mr. "promise-me-you'll-never-leave-me." I spat back his own words to him. Words he blurted out in a vulnerable moment the night before while he was making sweet, intimate, passionate love to me. 

It really was a low blow from my side.

Walter felt like his stomach got headbutted by an angry bull when my cruel words registered. The previous night he found me at home with the entrance door unlocked while I'd been blasting music. He had an exceptionally shitty day as a criminal who abducted a woman from her own home had to be set free for lack of enough evidence against him.

The fight that followed between us culminated in passionate makeup sex. He asked to be handcuffed to the headboard so that he wouldn't unleash all his desperate anger and accidentally hurt me. In an especially vulnerable moment, he begged me never to leave him, not for what he does nor for who he is. 

And here I was, throwing it back to his face.

"Fucking bitch," he hissed so only I could hear it. I gasped as I could see the exact moment Walter transformed back from my husband to the cop who responded to the crime scene. As if he suddenly needed to hide behind the mask of a stoic, invulnerable officer.

Without another statement, he grabbed one of my forearms, dragged me to the open back door of the car and tossed me inside. My upper body landed on Keylah's lap while he circled the car, got in the driver's seat and started the engine.

"Pig!" I shouted at him as Keylah helped me adjust and deliberately pushed me to sit in the middle seat so I could stare at him during the ride to the station. I leaned back, looking at him through the rearview mirror. He was not staring back, keeping his forbearing eyes on the road.

"Sooooo…" Stephanie uttered, "Magnum, is it really 10 inches?"

Walter just glared at Stephanie but provided no answer. After a moment's pondering, he threw a glance at me through the mirror, and drew one of his brows up, challenging me to answer Steph.

I crooked my eyebrow back at him, spreading my legs to show him the red silk panties I wore beneath my dress. 

"Well you know, it's basically a cock that has a man attached to it." 

Keylah snorted and shook her head with disbelief, "No fucking way she is that lucky, I call bullshit, sorry Walter." 

Again Walter didn't reply to her, just straightened in his seat a little and cocked his chin forward, keeping one hand on the steering wheel. If his whole demeanour wouldn't have answered Steph's question, it was my blush, visible even in the dark backseat, that made it clear that Walter's big dick energy did not end with the energy. Both girls gasped. 

"Fuck, bitch!" Keylah squealed, and they both started giggling while I remained silent as the blush permeated to my chest. 

"But what I want to know is if the police baton's thick too," Stephanie added and stared at me. I remained quiet for a moment, spreading my legs further for him to see the sticky patch at the apex of my body. Between every street lamp, the light danced over the backseat, illuminating the girls and me.

"Look at him," I finally uttered, "everything is thick and girthy, especially his skull".

The girls howled with excitement.

My lewd reference to Walter's size and girth made the corner of his mouth twitch almost unnoticeably as he was watching the road with an unbearably cocky expression. His eyes then ventured to the rearview mirror. Immediately they widened, and his face hardened simultaneously when he noticed the little dark spot on my panties between my spread legs. He instantly turned his head back to the road and switched the radio on. 

I could see the little twitching muscle in his cheek, his jaw straining as he noticed me spreading my legs. The fact that the gals wouldn't shut up about his cock and began making jokes didn't help either. I squirmed slightly on the leather seat and bit my lip, letting him see what he can't have. 

"Magnum, I bet you are one of them who likes it when she gags on your big fat cock."

"Steph, I'm sitting right here!" I called out. "You can just ask me, and I'll tell you how deep he likes to go!"

"I bet, Jen has a broken cervix, that's why she takes a lot of days off from work," Keylah laughed. "Detective Walter Marshall, cervix destroyer." 

Losing all patience Walter slammed the break, and we scrambled forward against the partition.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, ALL THREE OF YOU!" His eyes were blazing as he turned his head back and looked at us between the two front seats. "Do you even understand you're going to a holding cell?" 

But before Keylah or Steph could blurt out some snarky comment, I breathed out "Yes, sir", which immediately short-circuited Walter's mind. He was the one yelling for silence, yet I quieted him with two syllables. He bit both his lips, turned back and started driving again.

The girls glared at one another, shivering, unable to hide the twinge of exhilaration from Walter's alpha behaviour and how it broke me into submission. On any other day, I'd have told them to back off from my man, but we all knew it was prohibited to speak right now.

The rest of the drive to the station passed in lingering silence. Keylah brushed and fixed my hair carefully while I glared at Walter - half angry, half lustful and utterly missing my husband. Still, my ego prevented me from showing any emotion other than rage. 

As he finally parked the car, I looked at the giant stuffed bear next to him. Still rather intoxicated I whispered to the girls "there are two of them."

~~~

After Walter parked the car, he remained seated for a couple of seconds. The reference that he was my big bear sent little tendrils of softness straight into his heart at a most inconvenient moment and looking at me through the mirror he only started to realise that I will be exposed at the police station. 

Care, duty and the desire to discipline me were warring inside of him.

"Keylah, Stephanie, get out and give us a minute" he orders the girls. 

~~~

The girls opened the doors from each side. They quietly exited the police car, giving me a sympathetic look and standing outside, hugging themselves from the cold of the night. I kept quiet, looking at Walter and waiting for him to speak while chewing the inside of my cheeks.

 It was then that I realised how painful my wrists were with the cuffs around them. I wanted to go home, I hated him right now. 

Walter sensed my hatred and distress and opened his mouth to speak, "The better you'll behave, the quicker this will be over." 

He waited for a response, but I said nothing, so he drew his brows. "If you decide to behave yourself, I'll take off your handcuffs right now, and you can retain a shred of dignity at my workplace." Still nothing. "So the way this will go down depends entirely on you." 

My legs began to jump anxiously while I kept gnawing at the soft tissue of my mouth until it began hurting, "you proved your point, Walter, I want to go home now," I answered with irritation, feeling completely helpless. He gave a heavy sigh and lowered his gaze to the red slutty pumps around my feet, 

"This wouldn't have happened if…" I began speaking.

Forcing his eyes from my red shoes and mouth-watering legs, Walter interrupted me by shooting me a hard look, "...if you hadn't vandalised the store. Don't even try shifting the blame."

He got out, stepped to the back seat door, leaned in and pulled me out. I stood on wobbly legs when he gave me one last chance. "I ask again. Can you behave yourself enough to go in without handcuffs?"

His sheer hulking height and his broad shoulders dwarfed me. Even with these heels, I was puny compared to him. But then again, Walter was known as the largest guy in town. Visibly shaking, my legs almost bucked down as he looked at my face anticipating an answer. What agitated and excited me most was how professional he remained.

"I'm not going to run or hurt anyone," I said matter-of-factly. "I'm still your wife, not some criminal in case you forgot." I looked away from him, indicating that I was hurt by his mistreatment, wrongly thinking I deserved special treatment.

"I haven't forgotten that you're my wife," Walter retorted. 

How could he ever? 

Taking out a small key from his pocket, he turned me to uncuff my wrists and continued behind me, "But as far as this whole ordeal is concerned, tonight you are first and foremost a person in custody, and I'm the arresting cop, so behave accordingly."

His words and the sensation of his fingers around my wrists made my entire skin tingle and become riddled with goosebumps. For whatever reason other than him being my husband, I was longing for him despite my anger and how degrading this situation was, perhaps even because of it.

"Yes, Sir", I answered coldly, my eyes floating to the dark sky before he guided me toward him and our eyes met fiercely. 

The way our gaze clashed made time stop. He could see the scared longing in my glare, and I could see for the first time tonight his inner conflict.

I didn't have time to further contemplate this because Walter's hand shot out, grabbed my nape and pulled me close to a devastating kiss. He drew my head so that my ear almost touched his mouth so he could whisper, "It's going to be alright, my little wild cat."

Both Stephanie and Keylah gasped behind us and then whispered between them, giggling like cheerleaders. 

My chest was nearly empty as I looked up to his gaze, my lips swollen with need. It became very apparent that we hadn't touched one another for the last 24 hours and fuck, I just wanted more. No matter how aggravated and humiliated I felt, I wanted my big grizzly bear to touch me. 

He spun me around to lead me in. My legs almost failed me. It was cold, I was shaken from the kiss, and the last thing I needed was all his colleagues seeing me like this. 

Walter headed into the building followed by us. It provided a very comical scene as I insisted that Walter bring the teddy bear in for me. When we entered the bullpen, everyone got quiet seeing the big scary cop with a huge stuffed bear under an arm, surrounded by the three dolled up, tipsy babes. 

The sergeant blurted out "What the hell?"

I beamed at him "Hey, Sarge. How's Sue? We came to party!"

"No, they didn't." Walter cut in angrily as everyone was ogling me.

I couldn't help but smile and wink at all the guys, behaving as if this was nothing but a show, while both Stephanie and Keylah snickered seeing all the baffled looks. It was as if the moment we had an audience, we regressed into thinking we owned the place, marching past Walter as if he was our guard dog rather than our captor.

I flung my hair from side to side, snapping my heels and swaying my hips to emphasise the curve of my ass. I could feel the shift in Walter's demeanour, and I suddenly paused and bent over in front of him, pretending to fix the strap of my heel so he could get a good look of my ass.

"What's going on?" the sarge asked amused and Walter had to blink fast to drag his eyes off my slutty pose.

"They are the perps of the store vandalism." 

Everyone's jaw dropped, but I shrugged innocently.

"I just wanted a teddy bear," I pouted.

Having had enough, Walter grabbed my upper arm and signalled to the girls to follow us to a desk.

"You want some coffee, ladies?" Toby asked with literal heart eyes.

"They are NOT guests." Walter hissed, but I answered sweetly, "Milk, no sugar, please."

He pushed me down on the chair, and by the firmness of his grip, I knew he was forcing himself to be as gentle as possible. My ass hit the hard plastic with a small huff, and I giggled at the smack.

"Don't move!" Walter grunted as he went to get the paperwork. Obviously, the girls and I began whispering between us, giving Walter sneaky glances and then chuckling loudly.

Not understanding Walter's message, Toby came along with a hearty cup of coffee, handing it to me.

"You're a saint," I thanked him and took a gulp, groaning as the liquid hit the back of my throat. "That's a really great tie, Toby," I then added and got up to lean forward on the desk, grabbing his tie and examining it up close.

I knew every single guy at the station was currently staring at my ass, whether they wanted to or not. It took me back to prom year when every guy in school had wanted to get a piece of me, and none of them had a flying chance. I couldn't deny I loved the attention, especially after having none of it all day long as my husband was acting more like a cop than a lover. 

Walter marched back to the desk, ordering the lovestruck Toby to fill out the reports of Keylah and Steph, and dragged me away. 

The officer at fingerprinting jumped as a huge sasquatch of a detective kicked the door open and marched in, dragging a smirking babe with him. 

"C-can I he-"

"I'll handle it. Get out" Walter barked at him. The guy scurried away, and Walter sat me down, circling the fingerprinting station. I watched mesmerised as he silently, methodically prepared the ink pad.

Intimidation struck the chords of my heart as I watched my husband being completely efficient and professional. I was impressed, having met him when he'd already been in the police force I never had a chance to see this part of his life. It's something he always kept away from me, afraid it would terrify me.

Well, I was terrified indeed, and the fact that he was actually going through with the entire process made me tremble.

"Can we drop the act?" I asked when there was no audience left. I crossed my legs together and folded my arms around my chest defensively, "or are you keen on putting your wife behind bars as well, so no one but you gets to have her?"  

Walter's nostrils flared, but he simply said "It's not an act. Charges will be brought against you. My guess is parole or community service," he explained as he pressed my fingers on the ink pad and then on the respective brackets on the paper one by one.

My lips trembled as the information sank in and I jumped up from the chair just as Walter finished with my left pinky. 

"I don't want it! Neither parole nor community service!" I burst out, "You're my husband!" my voice hitched, "Do something!"

I looked at the stern, unimpressed glare he was giving me and then frowned as he simply rolled his eyes at me. But of course, what made me think I was the first person to beg him not to charge them? 

"Sit. Down." He answered calmly while I stood infuriated and shook my head with protest.

"You have the very power to make these charges go away! You are doing this on purpose!" I pointed my ink-stained finger at him and started stomping my feet in the ground. 

"What if I'll march right out of this room? You going to throw me into a cell, Walter? Oh oh, excuse me, Office Marshall, SIR!" I slurred with disrespect.

"I don't know what you mean by "this", but the only thing I'm doing on purpose is my fucking job", Walter said in a menacingly low voice. "And yes, if you march out of this room without my permission as arresting officer, I am obligated to throw you in a cell." He leaned back in his chair and stared in my eyes with unflinching confidence.

"You gonna throw me in a cell!? Your wife!?" I cocked my eyebrow at him daringly. "You sure about that?" I stretched up and straightened my dress, pulling the hem down over my thigh as it kept riding up.

Walter tilted his head unimpressed, his brows rising as if he was waiting to see if I was really willing to risk challenging both his authority and power. 

"I'd think of the consequences if I were you!" I spat out and turned on my heels and snapped at the door, opening it wide open and stepping outside courageously. 

I walked out of the room and started running in the empty hallway, my heels clicking loud. It didn't even take me ten steps when Walter's body pressed to my back, pushing me against the wall. He turned me toward him, and by the time I understood what was going on, he put back the handcuffs on my hands in the front. He then dragged me to the interrogation room's anteroom where people were working. 

Walter didn't stop at the sight of them, he took me to the interrogation room where one wall was a one-way mirror. 

"WALTER!!!" I shrieked, panting with both shock and effort while he hauled me by my nape and forced me down on the chair, making the metal chair hit me hard on the ass. 

Adrenaline surged through me, my breasts rose up and down in the cleave of my tight dress.

"Are you fucking out of your fucking mind?!" I screamed at him and then peered at the mirror, realising everyone could see us. "If you don't take me home now I will never speak to you again!" 

Walter refused to be baited. Stepping out to the anteroom, he shut the door behind him so that I won't hear what he was saying to them. The officers gawked at him. "Get out", he said in a low voice, and they jumped and rushed out. 

Unbeknownst to me, Walter locked the anteroom's door with a flick of his wrist, making sure no one would disturb us, then he turned back and marched in. He circled the desk and sat on the edge, one of his thighs almost touching me. My glossy eyes rounded up as I stared at him. 

"That's enough," he said in a low voice as if there were still someone watching through the mirror. 

I looked at the mirror frightened, thinking of the audience who sat there before redirecting my gaze to Walter. My heart was racing so badly I could feel it in my ears. 

"Walter, I swear I'm not going to speak to you ever again" I fumed. He was giving me a condescending look and fuck, he was too attractive when he was angry and pumped of authority. I couldn't help but clench my thighs beneath the desk.

Walter ignored the pang I caused him by blackmailing him with our relationship as he watched the top of my thighs rubbing together. He hardened his face, stood up and walked back to the chair on the opposite side of the desk.

He said nothing but I got inspired by his arousingly hard look. Glancing at the mirror behind where the cops were watching, I decided that the only way to get to that thick cop brain of his is causing a scandal that will force him to take me home.

Taking a deep breath, I regained my forces and tried to appear as strong as I could. An opposing force to his absolute control of the situation.

"Do your colleagues know you stalk your wife?" I asked him, my voice dropping lower, my eyes cutting into his like daggers. Walter gave an unimpressed glare, slightly shaking his head at me.

"Tell them, Walter," I spread my legs wider only for him to see my striking red panties again as I angled my pelvis to give him a better glimpse. "Tell your friends at work what a sick, controlling perv you are, following me like the guys you arrest." 

Walter put his elbows and forearms down on the desk interlocking his fingers, and leaning forward, his burly shoulders appearing even more intimidating. 

"I could tell them", he said in a calm voice, "but they'd see that the way you're behaving totally justifies it."

He knew exactly what I needed. I needed to be put in my place, but not by the cop. 

By the husband.

He made a show of glancing down my soaked panties, and he licked his lips, not entirely an act. I WAS delectable for him.

"The way I'm behaving?…" 

Fury simmered in my veins, my breath short and slightly heavy as Walter not only kept his cool but also visibly exhibited his raw sexual desire. It did nothing but made me want to grind myself on the chair.  

I shifted involuntarily, spreading my thighs even wider in a primal invitation for him to conquer my defenceless offering. I was like a soft little rabbit caged in a room with a big hungry wolf, and his hunger was for more than just food.

"How exactly am I behaving, detective?" I drawled, challenging him, unwilling to back down.

Walter shifted his eyes from my face to my spread legs, then looked back in my eyes. At the same time, he leaned back against the back-rest of the chair, arms crossed on his chest, his lax pose, implying that he was completely comfortable with what he was about to say.

"Like an attention-seeking, cock hungry whore," he stated in an even tone.

His words hit me like a slap on the face, whatever decency I had left was completely lost to me right now. I pushed myself up from the chair, causing it to fall behind me with a sharp echo. 

"Excuse me?!" I called out angrily, holding my cuffed fists against my chest, knuckles white with tension. 

"YOU ARE THE ONE ACTING LIKE A PERV STALKING ME AND MY FRIENDS!!!" I shouted and looked at the mirror, trying to peer through the people sitting in the room. 

"Yeah, you hear me? This is the man who should be under arrest!" 

Not thinking twice I climbed onto the desk and marched toward him, peeling my dress up my thighs, exposing myself above his face. 

"Tell them, tell them how much of a big fucking pervert you are, sitting in the dark and stalking women. Did you jack off in the patrol car thinking about this all night long?"

When I finished shouting and just stood on the desk panting, he slowly stood up, turned around and walked to the door. My heart dropped thinking he was leaving me here, but Walter only went to look the door. The clicking sound reverberated in my core, causing a spike of fear and adrenaline in me. 

He walked back to the desk, and quick as lightning, grabbed my hip and thigh and yanked me down. His powerful arms braced the impact so it won't hurt me, but the air was knocked out of my lungs. 

I was lying on the desk, knees drawn up, while Walter leaned above me, one of his palms on the desk next to my waist, the other grabbing one of my knees, and slowly trailing up on my thigh with an ominous caress.

"Now that you've informed them about what kind of man I am, I don't need to hold back, now do I?" he drawled, the hand reaching the apex of my thigh and his thumb sweeping against the wet fabric of my panties. 

The world turned black for a moment as the initial shock took over. My body was spasming with fear and as I regained my control over my muscles again my eyes floated to the huge windowed mirror.

A terrible chill coursed through me as I saw him hovering above me in our reflection. All big and burly, my protective husband looked like nothing but a large predator while I was his helpless victim, and the thought that people were watching us and not doing anything to stop him was horrifying.

His thumb caressed over my covered mount, making my whimper and shaking my head with protest.

"Stop…" I called out, my voice puny and weak as my lungs gave in. I held my cuffed wrists to my chest and stared at him begging. "Stop, they're watching, Walter!"

"You kept on throwing at me that you are my wife, demanding special treatment here," he said coldly as he grabbed the chain of my handcuffs, yanked it over my head and slammed it down to the table, forcing me to stretch my arms and arch my back meanwhile his other hand pulled the line of my wet panties aside, and to my utter horror and forbidden excitement he slowly, very slowly pushed a long thick finger inside me. 

"How's that for special treatment?" he drawled in a dark, lustful voice.

"Walter!!" I whispered urgently, shuddering across the desk while my body unwillingly pressed further into his finger by natural, primal instincts. My face rested to the side, and I glared at the mirror again. "Walter, please, don't! They're watching us!"

I was at a complete loss of power, bound, defeated, knowing very well he could do whatever he wanted, and I wouldn't even have a fighting chance. My body was taken captive by the forbidden desire, and I did all I could to mentally fight him. I tried to close my thighs around his arm and desperately kicked my legs while shooting my glossy gaze back at him. 

Walter pulled his finger out, causing my pelvis to lift as my pussy mourned the loss. He reached over my torso and pushed his wet finger in my mouth, pressing down my tongue with it, forcing me to taste myself. 

"Let them watch," he growled. He pulled his digit out and licked my wetness and saliva off it. He let go of the chain, and I pulled my arms back to my chest as I watched him sit down on his chair, pull my panties down and stuff it in his pocket. 

"Ready?"

[miracleonice87]

’tis the damn season

an Auston Matthews song fic

a/n: based on the absolute masterpiece that is ’tis the damn season by Taylor Swift from evermore. This one was not on my WIP list but came over me as soon as I heard the song when the album dropped. also have no idea how it became my longest piece yet, by far (as in 12k+ whoops). obviously, I do not own any of the music/lyrics to this song nor any other I write about.

summary: Auston Matthews and his ex-girlfriend are reunited in their hometown years after their difficult breakup.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sex, a delicate balance of angst and fluff. a bit of a slow burn, if you want to call it that.

_____

You might have been one of the few people on the planet who disagreed with the phrase, “There’s no place like home for the holidays.” At least, for the last few years, that hadn’t exactly been your sentiment.

But, you were home anyway, after a few weeks of your mother’s guilt tripping and your father’s repeated phone calls. And, admittedly, you were enjoying your quiet time at home with your parents.

After helping your mom bake a few dozen cookies for the Christmas Eve party they were throwing tomorrow night, you wandered upstairs to your childhood bedroom to change out of your flour-covered attire and maybe squeeze in a nap. An undeniable perk of staying with your parents during the holidays — so many opportunities to sleep. As you pulled on a well-worn, long-sleeved ASU t-shirt you found hanging in your closet, your phone rang.

You groaned and swore to yourself that if it was your editor again, you were quitting. She’d already interrupted your time off at least once throughout each of your three days at home thus far — your first week of vacation in the two and a half years you’d been with the fashion magazine. You rolled your eyes and reached for the sounding device on your bed, then recoiled when you saw the contact name — or rather, initials — on the screen.

AM

Oh, god.

Even worse, the years-old contact photo popped up behind the name — a picture of the two of you lying together on the shore on your vacation four years ago, right after the draft, when you both still held onto the naive belief that nothing that had just happened in his world would change things between the two of you.

“Shit,” you whispered, covering your mouth while anxiety coursed through your veins.

You couldn’t just not answer. Right? The two of you were on decent terms, though you couldn’t quite remember the last time you’d spoken — probably seven, eight months ago. You had no good reason to ignore his call.

And after all... you were the one who had ended things.

You cleared your throat and, trying to coach yourself into mustering up some semblance of courage, quickly repeated, “Okay, okay, okay, okay.” Then, like ripping off a bandaid, you hurriedly tapped the green button and pressed the phone to your ear.

“Matthews,” you greeted curtly — tentatively.

“Kels. Come over,” Auston said abruptly, though you could hear the smile in his voice. “I know you’re home.”

You squinted and glanced around your room, racking your brain as you tried to figure out how exactly your ex-boyfriend knew your current whereabouts.

“What?” you asked, puzzled, not to mention slightly shocked that he was even interested in seeing you in person — though some part of you was, indeed, grateful for that. “How did you even know I was in Scottsdale?”

“Uh, your Instagram story, my dear,” he said, obviously amused. “You posted this morning from that new coffee shop between the Methodist church and our old school building. Remember?”

You rubbed a hand over your face, suddenly regretting adding him to your close friends list on Instagram six weeks ago after a few glasses of wine with your girlfriends.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, eliciting a chuckle from Auston.

“Yeah, don’t flatter yourself thinking I sit around and stalk you, sweetheart,” he teased. “I thought about replying but I didn’t wanna slide into your DMs and look like a fuckboy.” He paused, and you opened your mouth to make a halfhearted wisecrack that you didn’t truly mean, but before you could speak, he added, “Plus you probably get so many DMs, I’m sure mine would just get lost in the shuffle.”

Again, you rolled your eyes. “Matthews,” you repeated, whinier now.

“C’mon, Kels. Just come over,” he whined back. “I just got in last night. I’m staying at my parents’ house. My sisters nearly busted down my door when they saw you were back in town, plus I know my mom and dad would love to see you.”

Suddenly, two decades’ worth of memories that you had long ago pushed to the back of your mind flooded all at once to the forefront of your consciousness. Sleepovers watching Disney Channel movies and eating peach rings with Alex and Brey. Brian scooping you up in his arms after a nasty tumble off your bike on their street, propping you on the kitchen counter as he bandaged the scrapes on your knees, Auston never leaving your side nor letting go of your hand. Road trips with Ema to watch Auston play in countless tournaments, with you doing homework in the front seat while Ema sang along to the radio. Matthews family dinners eating Ema’s famous chicken tortilla soup. Vacations and carpool and pickup basketball games and shopping for prom dresses and just the mundane, everyday routine you had been part of for so many years.

And those were just the memories that involved his sisters, his parents. You didn’t dare let your mind uncover the buried memories of him, and him alone.

You missed them. Sometimes you missed them all so much that it made your heart physically ache and your stomach drop and your mouth go dry.

So, you drew a long, deep breath, and against your better judgment, eventually said, “Okay. Fine. But you have to send me your parents’ address. I haven’t been to the new Matthews McMansion.”

Auston huffed on the other end. “So mean to me.”

_____

It was certainly a far cry from the modest old ranch-style house where Auston had spent his childhood.

As you pulled up to the sprawling estate in the bougie part of town and cut your engine, you whispered, “What the fuck am I doing here...”

And still, after a quick check of your makeup in your rearview mirror, you got out of the car, closed your door and pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head, sighing as you took in the four vehicles parked in front of yours in the roundabout driveway, none of which you had ever seen before. Audi, Mercedes, BMW, Porsche. Well, you could guess which one was Auston’s.

You walked up the stone sidewalk and slipped your aviators into your purse — it was only then that you noticed that your hands were trembling.

You cleared your throat and exhaled sharply, willing your nerves to subside, as you arrived at the door and pressed the button on its frame, sounding an elaborate chime inside.

“I got it,” you immediately heard a familiar voice call, and you took a startled step backward as you saw his figure approaching through the decorative glass panes outlining the doorway. As he pulled open the door, the flutter you’d tried your hardest to avoid feeling for three years took flight once more in your belly.

“Matthews,” you greeted again, arms crossed in front of you in hopes of hiding your shaking hands.

“Why’d ya bother to ring the doorbell, you nutjob?” Auston asked with a broad smile.

Before you could throw a snide remark back at him, he pulled you into himself, one arm snaking around your mid-back and the other hand cradling your head to his chest. Inadvertently, you exhaled contentedly, and you swore you felt Auston tighten his grip on you then. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let yourself relax into him for longer than you had intended. He just felt so… familiar. Broad. Strong. Comforting.

He was just… Auston. A thousand things had changed for the two of you, but the way you felt in his presence hadn’t changed since you were a little girl.

You inhaled his cologne, and you noticed that he was doing just the same — breathing in your long-worn Chanel No. 5 perfume, the same kind he used to save up all year to buy you each Christmas.

At that memory, you snapped back to reality and extricated yourself from his embrace, leaving him looking slightly disappointed, though still pleased with your greeting.

“Hi,” you spoke simply as you stared up at him, then chuckled at how stupid that sounded.

“Hi,” he mimicked, head bobbling and eyes widening, causing you both to fall into a giddy fit of nervous laughter over nothing at all.

Just then, you saw Ema’s head pop out from beneath an arched opening toward the back of the house — probably leading to the kitchen, you assumed. Ema was always in the kitchen.

“I thought I heard your laugh,” she sang. You couldn’t help but beam, and Auston smiled and moved out of your way so that you had a direct pathway to his mother. Taking advantage of that, you made a beeline for the petite woman you considered your second mom, already feeling emotion bubbling up in your throat as tears blurred your vision.

“Oh, mija,” Ema said, her voice tight as she met you in the middle of the grand entryway and gathered you into her arms. “Te extrañamos,” (we miss you) she said sincerely.

Auston cupped the back of his neck and quickly looked away then, fearful that he may just shed tears of his own.

You sniffled and murmured, “Los extrañé a todos mucho,” (I missed you all so much) into Ema’s shoulder as she smoothed her hand lovingly over the back of your head.

When you finally parted, moving past the brief sadness of the reunion, Ema still held tightly to your hands, extending her arms so that she could see you better.

“You look more beautiful than ever!” she exclaimed, and you dropped your head bashfully at her compliment. “California is treating you well.”

You nodded. “For the most part,” you remarked with a sigh. Ema glanced quickly from your face to her son’s and back again, deciding not to dwell for too long on that loaded response.

“Well,” she pivoted with a click of her tongue. “You look great. Now come, come! I know Auston’s going to want to steal you away from me, not that I blame him, but I just put on some tea, so let’s sit and have some first.”

“Ma…” Auston protested lightheartedly. Ema wagged her finger at him. “Shh! Mijo! My long lost daughter has returned. Give me ten minutes for a cup of tea with her.”

Auston’s lips parted at her use of the word “daughter,” not that he should have been surprised by it, and you tossed him an animated shrug as Ema pulled you down the hallway back from whence she came. You were right — it was the kitchen, and it was a spectacular one at that.

“Holy…” you trailed off as Ema patted one of the leather barstools at the enormous island in the center of the room. You took a seat, pulling your cross body bag from your shoulder and placing it on the island, and commented, “This kitchen is incredible, Ema. I’m sure you love spending time here.”

Ema nodded and excitedly launched into stories of using all the appliances and gadgets she had never owned before, walking back to the teakettle on the stove as Auston sat down on the nearest barstool, feeling as though he could simply be dreaming, hallucinating, that you were here, sitting with him in his parents’ kitchen. But when you noticed him taking the seat next to yours, you tossed him a classic Kelsey smile and nudged his shoulder with your own, and he felt just slightly more confident that this was reality. Unable to resist your magnetism, which hadn’t faded with time but seemed instead to have only grown stronger, he squeezed your knee beneath the countertop, just as Ema approached with a cup of tea in hand for you.

Choosing to react instead to Ema rather than her son, you grinned and thanked her, feeling Auston’s eyes on you as you lifted the mug to your lips and took small sips, Ema still prattling on happily from the other side of the kitchen. You eventually cast a sidelong glance Auston’s way, accompanied by an amused smirk, the combination of which left him beaming as he looked away from you and back toward his mother, who now approached with two more cups of tea.

“Thanks, Ma,” he said as he wrapped his hands around the mug she offered him.

“You’re welcome, mijo,” Ema replied. “Now Kelsey, honey, how long are you in town?”

“Uh, just until the day after Christmas,” you replied, swirling a finger along the ceramic rim of your mug. “This is the most time I’ve taken off since I started at the magazine,” you admitted with a hint of embarrassment.

Ema nodded. “Your mother said you haven’t made it home for a while. I know they keep you pretty busy there. Is that why you don’t visit so much?” she asked unassumingly.

Auston dropped his head and shuffled his feet awkwardly against the tile floor, and your eyes flickered to him as you racked your brain for an answer that wasn’t a complete lie but also didn’t unmask the whole truth — which was that being in a town that held so much history with your ex was simply too suffocating to bear, even for a quick visit with your parents. So, you typically just stayed in California where you could throw yourself into your work as a fashion writer at a well-known publication and operate under the illusion that you had moved on. From Scottsdale, from Auston, from your life before Los Angeles.

And especially from Toronto.

But the problem was, when the night fell and the lights all faded and you were left to face the truth, you knew in your heart that that’s really all it was — an illusion.

And from 2,500 miles away, Auston knew it, too. He knew it because he was living the same lie.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied sheepishly. “That’s the gist of it. Just, uh, just hard to get away sometimes. My parents usually come out to visit me instead since their schedules are, uh, a little more flexible.”

“Right,” Ema said skeptically as you took a long pull from your mug, despite the hot liquid singing your tongue and making your eyes water. “Well, either way, it’s so good to finally see you here,” she added warmly.

“It’s good to see you too,” you breathed, honesty dripping from that answer.

Auston finally looked at you again, giving you an understanding smile. Even that smallest of gestures made you dizzy.

“So,” you said as you moved away from the topic, sitting up a bit straighter. “Where are the girls? Where’s Brian?”

“Golfing,” Auston answered. “Like always,” he added with a chuckle.

“Why am I not surprised?” you teased, making both Ema and Auston laugh.

“They begged Auston to come with them, but he turned them down,” Ema informed you. “And now we know why.” She lifted her eyebrows and took another sip of her tea as Auston shook his head.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he joked. “But no, they’ll be back soon. They can’t wait to see you.”

You brightened at that, not having seen the Matthews girls in nearly as long as it had been since you’d seen Auston himself, finding it easier to breathe when they weren’t nearby, reminding you of him with their every mannerism. And yet, you’d found that starving yourself of their friendship and their company ached nearly just as much.

“I can’t wait either,” you said through a distant smile.

“And Dad will probably cry more than Mom did when he sees you,” Auston predicted, lifting his mug. Ema swatted at his arm.

“Don’t start with me!” she warned. “I happened to see you choking up out there, too.”

You turned to Auston and raised an accusing brow at him. He simply chuckled into his tea and looked away, and the three of you sat in silence for a beat.

“Come on,” he finally said as he rested his mug on the island, nodding his head in the direction of the sliding glass door at the back of the house. “Lemme show you the patio.”

You nodded, knowing full well that showing off the backyard was not the real reason he was inviting you outside. Despite that knowledge, you hopped off the barstool, put your mug in the sink, and kissed Ema on the cheek as you passed her.

“Thanks for the tea, mamacita,” you said with a smile, squeezing her shoulders. “Anytime, mi amor,” she replied, sending a wink your way as you turned to follow Auston.

He slid open the door and motioned for you to step through it first. When he saw his mother watching you through the kitchen window, he gave her a knowing smirk, and she put her hands up in innocence. But as she watched you two walk out onto the patio through the glass, she breathed a silent prayer to any higher power who would listen that maybe, just maybe, you would finally come home.

Not to Scottsdale, no. Home to Auston.

Meanwhile, you were trailing your hand along the hammock near the pool, taking in the scene and trying to remember to breathe. When you heard him close the door, you turned back to Auston, your eyes floating around the backyard.

“Nice setup they’ve got back here,” you grinned, Auston chuckling with his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts.

“Yeah, it’s even nicer in the summer,” he commented. You nodded, stepping closer to the pool and lowering yourself to sit on the edge, patting the space next to you as an invitation for Auston to do the same.

“We have chairs, ya know,” he grumbled as he took a seat. “Not all of us like to sit on the floor all day doing yoga.”

You sneered at him. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I do all day long,” you said sarcastically.

“Well, you used to, anyway,” he mumbled.

You gulped as visions of him watching you do precarious yoga poses on the living room floor of his apartment flickered in your mind’s eye, and then, once again, you moved right along.

“So… how’s it going, Matthews? How’s life?” you prompted, not even sure if you truly wanted to hear the answer to your inquiry.

He stretched out his long legs so that his feet were dangling above the water as he wondered where to even begin.

“It’s… it’s good,” he said. “Overall. It’s nice to be home for a few days. Needed that. I missed it. Missed my family. Missed…” he stopped himself, “…other things,” he added under his breath.

You chewed the inside of your cheek and decided to avoid the path he was taking this down. “How’s hockey?” you asked instead.

Auston shifted noticeably at the mention of his career, still painfully aware that, despite the successes it had brought him, it had ultimately caused the demise of your relationship.

“Hockey is… hockey,” he said. “Honestly it’s good on the whole. But the team’s not having the greatest year so far, which is rough.” You nodded, knowing better than most that the Toronto media operated at a different level of intensity and scrutiny than that of nearly all other markets, especially when the Leafs were losing, and especially when new blood was added into the equation, like Auston’s had been when they drafted him.

Like yours had been when you moved there with him.

The spotlight they shone on you — and the subsequent attention you received from so-called fans who took to the internet to question your intentions and integrity — had been far more than you bargained for.

Just as you were about to ask about how the guys on the team were faring, Auston spoke again.

“I think about calling you every time we come to LA, Kels,” he said, fixing his eyes on the neighbor’s house in the distance because he was simply unable to look at you while he admitted it. With a sniff, he added, “I’m not gonna lie about that.”

“Why don’t you?” you asked after a beat, maybe unfairly, studying his familiar profile. His features were the same, of course, but he looked… more mature. Older. Wiser. All that jazz. Auston shrugged, still not capable of looking at you.

“Just didn’t think you’d want me to,” he answered dejectedly. Your heart sank into your stomach. Given the things you’d said when you left him nearly three years ago, you could hardly blame him for that one.

“Well,” you started with a sigh. “I guess we could call it even then, because I think about coming to see you play every time you come to LA. Or Anaheim. Or even Vegas. And obviously Phoenix.”

“Well why didn’t you just call me asking for free tickets then,” he said in a tone that he tried to disguise as facetious, but you heard the hurt seeping into his words. “Everybody else I know in any NHL city does.”

You felt a fierce sense of protectiveness then, clenching your jaw as you tried to calm your irate thoughts. You watched him pick at the sleeve of his black Raiders crewneck and felt deeply for him — this man you’d loved since he was a little boy.

“Do they really? Still?” you asked in monotone.

Auston nodded, squinting in the sunlight. “Yup,” he answered, popping the ‘p.’ “Every game.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, covering your eyes with your hand and pushing into your temples. You blew out a long breath. “Fuck. I’m really sorry about that. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I… it just sucks.”

Auston shrugged. “It’s not your fault,” he stated. “Sometimes I do it, sometimes I don’t. Kinda depends on whether the person’s actually talked to me lately.”

You nodded as he chuckled sadly, and you felt your chest tighten. “Well,” you began, clearing your throat. “I guess I wouldn’t qualify then because we haven’t talked much.”

Auston looked at you with intensity surging in his deep brown eyes, and you wanted to look away but found that you couldn’t.

“You always qualify,” he said seriously. “You’re one of the only people that qualifies.”

You bit down, hard, on your bottom lip and grappled internally with the weight of his comment. Then he said sarcastically, “Besides, I know you’re only after my money. I mean, you forced me to buy you that Louis bag the week after I got drafted.”

Your jaw dropped at his joke, and you scoffed indignantly. “Oh, yeah, the one you finally had to hide in my closet after I kept sneaking it back into your car because I wanted you to return it?” you corrected. “Yeah, ya caught me. You know me, Aus. Such a gold digger.”

Auston had started laughing halfway through your quip, but stopped suddenly. You gave him a questioning look, and he paused before answering.

“You called me Aus,” he stated with a smile he tried and failed to hide. “You went back to calling me Matthews after we broke up. But you… you just called me Aus again.”

“Yeah, well...” you grumbled, “Don’t get too excited.” You tossed him a smirk and he mirrored it, basking in the comfort of the moment.

“So whaddya think of the place? Not bad, right?” he finally asked, glancing around the property, back at the house, then settling his focus back on you.

You shrugged. “A little gaudy for my taste, but...” you began, and Auston shook his head bemusedly, knowing he set himself up for that one.

“No, it’s great. I can see how much your mom loves it. In all seriousness, I think it’s amazing, everything you’ve done for your family. Your parents. It’s pretty incredible,” you said earnestly. “I don’t think I said it enough when we were together, but, I’m really proud of you, Aus. And I don’t just mean about the hockey.”

Auston nodded soberly, turning his head to look you in the eye.

“I know you don’t,” he said quietly. “Thanks, Kels. It means a lot coming from you. More, uh… more than you know.”

And then, before you could think twice about doing so, you reached out your hand to rest atop his, feeling its familiar warmth as your fingertips grazed the raised veins there. Auston swallowed hard, blinking at where your hands now met, and slowly wrapped your fingers in his, giving them a squeeze. You exchanged long stares before you eventually slammed on the brakes in your brain and carried on.

“So, you just casually hang out with Justin Bieber now?” you asked, reaching your palms behind you and leaning back. “And the wildest shit is that I saw it first when he posted it, not you.”

Auston chuckled, looking down at his slides and — ironically — Drew socks combo. In his signature way, he halted his laughter on a dime and his face turned somber as he said dryly, “Yeah, I’m like really famous now, yanno?”

You sighed in annoyance, rolling your eyes as you looked skyward, feeling Auston’s gaze turn to you. You let it go for a few moments before shifting only your eyes toward his.

“What?” you asked accusingly. You could tell by the faraway smirk on his face that he was lost in a memory.

“Remember you had posters of him hung up all over your room in like middle school? From Tiger Beat magazine and shit? And now I play video games and mini sticks with the guy,” Auston said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, and if you ever tell him about that, I’ll end your life,” you threatened, shoving at his arm and attempting to ignore how much his biceps had grown since you last touched them. And then you were slamming the door shut on a rush of memories of having him beneath your touch — some innocent, but most intimate.

Auston saw it in your eyes — the place you went for a moment — as you dropped your hand back to the concrete beneath you. He knew where you went because, so often, he went there, too.

He held your gaze and promised, “Your secret’s safe with me. You know that.”

Only a hint of a smile graced your lips for a fleeting moment as you ran your fingers through your hair. Suddenly, you felt the heaviness of the history between the two of you closing in — smothering you, like it always did. Auston watched helplessly, wishing it didn’t have to be this hard.

And then, in a flash, like he so often did to save you from your swirling thoughts, he casually changed the topic as he commented, “Your hair’s shorter. You look like your mom. In a good way.”

Blushing, you breathed a laugh through your nose. “Thanks,” you said softly. “I think it’s the highlights, too.”

“It is,” Auston confirmed, and then — damn him — he reached out and looped a lock from the front of your face between his thumb and forefinger, the way he had done a thousand times before, usually mid-conversation, always absentmindedly. This time, you knew, as you forced your eyes to meet his, it was a bit more calculated. “I really like it,” he told you.

You nodded, searching his eyes to try and determine whether he had any idea what this — this moment, this visit, this day — really was.

“If you’re gonna ask me what we’re doing,” Auston spoke, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, “then I have to tell you I have no idea.”

Again, damn him. After all this time, it was like he still lived inside your brain and had read your every thought like the morning paper before you even had the chance to convey it. Which used to save you in a lot of ways. Now it felt kind of… intrusive. But somehow you didn’t mind.

“I had no idea what I was even gonna say when I called you. All I know,” he continued, still flipping the strand of hair around his fingers, “is that I really wanted to see you, and that I was really happy when you came, and that I’m really enjoying this time with you.”

You nodded, and as he pulled his hand from your face, his thumb brushed your jawline just slightly, and that touch alone sent a bolt of lightning through you. Auston smiled softly as he said barely above a whisper, “Okay, now it’s your turn to say something.”

You heaved a sigh, tipping your head back with eyes closed and soaking in the sunshine. “I don’t expect you to know, Aus,” you finally spoke. “I was just so... so shocked, I guess, that you wanted to see me. It’s been so long, I just... I didn’t know when I would see you again.”

“We’ve talked though,” Auston pointed out with a sigh to match yours, pulling a knee to his chest and wrapping his arms around his bent leg. “FaceTimed. Texted.”

You rolled your head toward him. “It’s not the same,” you reasoned softly, hesitantly reaching out your hand to tuck some of his black hair behind his ear. He licked his lips swiftly and placed a peck to your thumb before you slowly withdrew your hand.

“You’re right,” Auston conceded. “Definitely not the same.”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt...”

You were snapped out of your private moment by one person’s voice and another person’s squeal behind you.

“Oh, my god!” you yelled as you shot up from the side of the pool, Alexandria and Breyana already scampering toward you from the back door.

“It’s about goddamn time you came back to us!” Alex shrieked, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “I missed you, little sister,” she cooed, rubbing her hands across your back, and you hummed in agreement.

“I missed you, Al,” you replied, kissing her temple as you stepped back to greet the youngest of the Matthews clan.

“And you. My baby!” you exclaimed, pulling Breyana into your arms. “The true star athlete of the family,” you teased as she squeezed your waist.

“Damn straight,” Breyana giggled. “I missed you, Kels. I can’t believe you’re here!”

You pulled away, glancing behind you as you saw Auston slowly approaching out of the corner of your eye. “Me either,” you admitted, eyes widening dramatically as the girls snickered at you. “How was golf?”

“Brey smoked us, no surprise,” Alex replied. “But shut up about the golf. Tell us what’s going on with you two.”

“Alex!” Auston warned, shooting her a glare. “Please don’t.”

Alex gave him her best older sister roll of the eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as Breyana looked between the two of you.

“Nope,” Alex refused. “Not until you tell me what’s up. C’mon, spill.”

“We’re just...” you began, swiveling to look Auston’s way as he smirked down at you, happy to let you flounder in this one all on your own. “Visiting,” you finished, nodding once at Alex, pleased with your choice of verbiage.

“Honestly, you guys…” Breyana lamented.

“Visiting, huh?” Alex echoed, growing even more suspicious. “Yeah, okay. Sure. Wear protection. Anyways, uh—“

“Alex!” Auston repeated, this time through clenched teeth. “I swear to god...”

“Anyways, like I was saying,” Alex continued. “Your parents invited us all to their house tomorrow night for the Christmas party. I didn’t think you were gonna be there — does this mean you will?”

You nodded, causing Alex to clap excitedly. “I’ll be there with bells on,” you confirmed. “I already made my shortbread cookies.” All three siblings moaned in delight at the mention of your famous treats.

“Hell yeah! Plus that means we won’t be the only ones escaping to the balcony to drink,” Breyana commented.

“Brey, you’re like twelve,” Auston taunted, earning him a sharp elbow to the ribs from his younger sister. “You don’t get to drink with us.”

“Whatever,” she retorted. “Like you guys weren’t sneaking Mom and Dad’s liquor when you were younger than me.”

“Anyways,” Alex said yet again, clearing her throat. “We’re gonna go back inside now and shower, and just, uh, leave you guys to whatever it is you were doing beside the pool there. ‘Kay? ‘Kay. See ya,” she sang, spinning Breyana by the shoulders and guiding her inside, both girls whispering and giggling all the while. “Kels, I’ll call you tonight — you can tell me all about it!” Alex called over her shoulder, sliding the door closed.

You turned to see a pink tinge to Auston’s cheeks as he muttered, “Sorry,” with a dry laugh. You shook your head.

“No, don’t be,” you insisted, waving him off as you took a seat at the glass picnic table beside you, Auston following your lead. “It wouldn’t be a visit to the Matthews house without Alex torturing the both of us,” you teased.

Auston nodded. “Very true,” he said, and you knew he didn’t want to stop there, but he couldn’t seem to find what he did want to say next.

Instead, you ventured, “So what are your—”

At the very same time, he started, “Kels, would you maybe—”

You both chuckled at yourselves, locking eyes. This certainly wasn’t the first time this had happened in conversations — far from it. And usually, you were about to say the very same thing.

So, you motioned for him to speak first.

He toyed with the band of his watch as he said nervously, “I was just gonna say, uh, would you maybe wanna go to dinner with me? Tonight?”

You sat back in your chair, smirking, fully aware that you were teetering on a damn fine line.

“I was hoping you might say that.”

_____

An hour later, after reuniting with Brian (Auston was right — he cried more than the rest of his family combined when he hugged you), you headed home to change for dinner. As you pulled away from the Matthews house, you were thankful that Auston had offered to follow you in his own vehicle so that he could drive you to dinner, which in turn gave each of you a few minutes to breathe.

Surprisingly, your mother didn’t seem at all shocked to see the guest you had brought back with you. You had told her that you were going to visit the Matthews’, not specifying which member of the family had invited you, though she could venture a guess. When she watched two vehicles pull into the driveway side by side, she inhaled an excited gasp, a smile overwhelming her features as she came to meet you at the front door, just as you laughed at a lame joke Auston cracked about your driving.

Your mother nearly tackled him in a hug, which he warmly returned. He shared a similar bond with your mom to the one you shared with his, which was yet another piece that fit perfectly into the puzzle that was your relationship. So many pieces fit, and so few didn’t, but that still didn’t make things whole.

But, you ignored that thought — and so many others — as you left the two to chat, bounding up the stairs to change, now grateful that you’d brought more than one nice option to wear to the Christmas party tomorrow, considering the rest of your suitcase was filled with comfy loungewear.

How could you have ever planned for this?

After touching up your hair and makeup and putting on the more understated of the dressy outfits you’d brought, you returned to the kitchen where your mom and Auston stood huddled at the counter, near empty glasses of red wine in front of them both.

“Already boozin’, huh?” you teased as you folded your arms in front of you. They chuckled, and Auston glanced at you over his shoulder with a smile. When he laid eyes on you, though, he stood straight up and turned to face you, making no attempt to hide his stare, even in front of your mother. Without taking his gaze off of you, he threw back his final sip of wine and blew out a flustered breath. You knew you were blushing, so you walked past him to your mother, pressing your cheek to hers for an air kiss so as not to mess up your lipstick.

“Sorry to take your favorite boy away from you, but we should head out,” you announced as you looked back at Auston. He cleared his throat, walking to the other side of the countertop to hug your mom again, thanking her for the wine and something else that you didn’t quite catch.

He followed you down the hall, his hand ghosting along the small of your back as you reached for your purse on the coat rack. You looked back and blew a final kiss to your mom, who waved as she watched Auston open the passenger door of his car and help you in — both of you giggling as you crouched into the low-riding vehicle in your skirt and high heels. Like a mom of a young teen, she stood at the window and watched the two of you drive down the block and out of sight, hands clasped together wistfully as she turned back to finish placing the final decorative touches in the living room ahead of tomorrow.

Just a minute later, your dad came through the door from the grocery store, calling for her, sounding nearly breathless.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, smoothing the silk ribbon wrapped around the banister.

“Marie… did I just see Auston driving Kelsey down the road in a Porsche?” he gaped, his brow furrowed, thumb pointed over his shoulder.

She laughed, looking downward as she nodded.

“Yes, you did,” she confirmed, then looked at him as she felt tears welling. “Jack... I can’t say for sure, but I think maybe the girl is finally coming to her senses.”

A smile spread slowly across your father’s face and he came toward your mother, wrapping her in a hug.

“Well…” he began, kissing her temple. “Then maybe we’ll get our Christmas wish after all.”

“And what’s that?” your mom asked.

“For her to be happy again.”

_____

“You look amazing, Kels,” Auston said seriously from the driver’s seat. “Gorgeous.”

You gave him a coy smile and briefly inspected the outfit he’d chosen before leaving his own parents’ house.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Auston grinned and decided he would take that.

Ten minutes later, he was pulling up to the restaurant you had already known he’d had in mind when he asked you to dinner, without even needing to discuss it. The same Italian restaurant where you’d celebrated infinite birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s Days, and other milestones. You fell into easy conversation during drinks and appetizers before Auston told a comical story about his teammates which led to an in that he knew he needed to take. 

“They miss you, you know,” Auston stated cautiously between bites of his shrimp scampi. “Mo. Mitchy. Especially Steph.”

You folded and unfolded the seams of the cloth napkin in your lap, considering your response.

“I miss them, too,” you eventually murmured. “So be real with me. You really like it there now?” you leveled with him.

His demeanor shifted — in a good way — as he replied. “It’s honestly great. I mean, you’d love it there now, Kels. I swear,” Auston said, shaking his head in wonder. “’M not just saying that. I mean, the hype is still there, yes, but it’s not at the level it was when I first started. Mitchy and Mo and Willy and I, all us guys who kinda started out together, we’ve all sort of found our groove with the media and stuff, and for the most part, it’s great. I have a feeling it’ll just keep getting better, too.”

You watched his eyes light up as he spoke about Toronto, relief and happiness washing over you. It didn’t seem so long ago that Auston was curled up on the couch, near tears, head in your lap, feeling incapable of living up to the expectations set for him — almost buckling under the immense pressure, the likes of which he had never felt before.

You let out a teary chuckle, swiping at a teardrop on your cheek that had fallen as he answered, taking you by surprise.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that, Aus,” you told him, holding your hand over your heart as it soared within you.

Auston nodded slightly, and his lips twitched into a sad smile. “There’s still something that doesn’t feel right though,” he confessed, though it didn’t feel much like a secret. “Still something missing.”

“And what’s that?” you asked timidly as you lifted your wine glass, excited for and fearful of his answer at all once.

“You.”

Forcing yourself to swallow your merlot so you didn’t spray it across the table, you put your fist to your mouth, holding it there while you attempted to process his latest, and most brazen, admission.

“I mean… look, there have been a few others,” Auston continued with a mindless shrug. “But never anything serious, and never anyone that I’m not constantly comparing to you in every possible way,” he told you, rolling his fingertips on the table and focusing on his hand as he spoke. “Feel kinda bad actually, because I know they all thought it was something more than it really was, and then I was always the one to break things off. I didn’t purposely lead them on, I just... once I got into it, I realized my feelings just weren’t in it.”

You opened your mouth to speak, hands limp in your lap, and then closed your lips in a tight line as you mulled over his words. You inhaled a shuddering breath and looked down, feeling the same shame that had overcome you countless times before come back again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered without lifting your eyes.

“Kelsey…” Auston spoke firmly. “Look at me. Please.”

You did as he asked, lips pursed, and were met with his adoring, enchanting gaze, always too forgiving of your faults and mistakes.

“It’s okay,” he promised sincerely. “I understand. Trust me on that. I’ve always understood where you were coming from, but it seemed like there was just… just nothing I could do about it. Nothing I could do to make you stay, or to bring you back. That’s what made it so hard. That’s what still makes it so hard.”

You nodded. “Well — what you’re doing right now — whatever this is… it’s working,” you divulged, knowing this was a dangerous game and no longer caring.

“Is it?” Auston asked, a full-blown smile appearing now on his lips. Those lips you missed so damn much.

“Yeah,” you giggled, both of you grinning. “God, I missed your smile, Aus.”

“My smile?” he asked incredulously, then scoffed. “Your smile fucking breaks my heart, Kelsey,” he told you in his deepest tone, biting at the inside of his cheek as if he was trying not to lean across the table and kiss you full on the mouth right then and there.

And now, as you saw that look in his eye that you knew so well, you knew two things.

One, you were fucked. And two, you were in desperate need of a minute.

“I, uh, I gotta run to the ladies’ room,” you told him, standing, feeling unsteady as you pushed in your chair. Auston nodded knowingly and said, “Take all the time you need.”

You brushed a hand over his shoulder, the other holding tightly to your crossbody bag, as you attempted to walk in a straight line toward the restrooms across the restaurant floor. You were only one glass of wine deep, yet this night was making your head feel as fuzzy as if you’d just done a row of shots. Once safely inside the bathroom, you tossed your purse on the counter and held tightly to the sink to try and settle yourself, taking deep breaths in an attempt to control your racing pulse.

Just then, you heard a toilet flush, and your sense of solitude was quickly shattered when you saw a familiar blonde figure step out of the bathroom and lean closer upon recognizing you.

“Kelsey!” she exclaimed, moving toward the sink.

“Holly! Oh, my god,” you laughed as you squeezed her upper arm.

“Here, let me wash my hands and then I’ll give you a real hug,” she promised as you both giggled.

You had been a cheerleader throughout high school, and Holly, a year your senior, had been captain the year before you took on the title. Though you two weren’t particularly close, you had always looked up to her, and you’d kept in touch for a couple of years after you graduated before mostly falling off, save for the occasional hype comment or story reply on social media.

“How are you, girl? You look gorgeous!” she said as she threw her arms around you.

“So do you! I’m doing well, thanks. Home for the holidays,” you offered as she stepped back and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s great! Me, too,” she replied, then smiled mischievously at you. “To be totally honest, uh… I saw you when you were being seated. I didn’t wanna be weird or like, intrude, or anything but… I saw you come in with Auston. Are you guys like… back together?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no,” you laughed nervously, feeling yourself blush under her questioning. “We’re not back together. Just, uh, just two old friends, uh, catching up, ya know?” you reasoned nonchalantly as you reached for your bag.

“Oh. Right. Well... ‘tis the damn season, am I right?” Holly said with a chuckle, her own cheeks slightly flushed as she feared maybe she had made you uncomfortable by addressing the elephant in the room.

“Right,” you nodded cordially, then took a step toward her and patted her hand, wanting to make sure she didn’t think you were upset by her comment. “It’s so good to see you, Hol. I’m gonna head back out there—“

“Kelsey, wait,” Holly said urgently, grasping your arm before you could turn away from her. You blinked at her several times, glancing between her grip and her face as you waited to hear what had gotten into her.

“I just have to tell you... for what it’s worth, you guys still look so happy together,” Holly said. “Even if that’s not what this is. I just... I wanted to tell you that. As someone who has known you both for a long time, Auston never smiles as much as he smiles when he’s with you. It’s just nice to see.”

You gaped at your old friend, speechless, and she scrunched her nose at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cross the line, I just...” she trailed off.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to act casual. “No, no. Not at all. It’s okay. Thank you, for telling me. I just, I gotta run,” you said, leaning in to hug her again. “Bye, Hol. Have a merry Christmas.”

“You too, Kels. See you around,” She smiled as you moved toward the bathroom door. With one last polite nod at her, you exited and escaped to your seat.

As you reached the table, you had to physically restrain yourself from reaching out and running your hand along the back of Auston’s neck and affectionately trailing your fingertips over the short hair there, as you had done for so many years when approaching him and sidling up to him. Instead, you smoothed your hand over your dress and sighed as Auston turned his head to look at you, grinning as he watched you sit.

“You get lost?” he teased. You chuckled, throwing your hair behind your shoulders.

“Something like that,” you muttered, immediately reaching for your glass of wine, which you could tell had been refilled in your absence. Auston hummed in acknowledgement as you took a long sip, watching you all the while.

“One more glass and then we get outta here?” Auston suggested as you set the glass down. You only nodded.

_____

“Remember when you had that old truck, with the tires that were always muddy, and we used to just ride around Scottsdale all night long?” you asked Auston, both of you reminiscing about days gone by after leaving the restaurant.

Auston nodded, running his pointer finger across his upper lip, the other hand on the wheel, as he watched the memory projecting in his mind.

“‘Course I do,” he told you, and you didn’t miss the way his tone changed when he did, making you smirk.

“So, where to next?” you prodded. “Back to Casa de Matthews?”

He shrugged ambiguously, but secretly, he knew just what he wanted to do. “We could just ride around. Like we used to. If you want. I mean, there’s no real reason for us to rush back to our parents’ houses, right?” he said with a snicker.

This could get messy as the mud on the truck tires, you thought, but your response was already tumbling from your lips.

“Okay,” you said, smiling at him. “I’d say let’s go drive through the rich neighborhoods and look at Christmas lights like we used to, but that’s where you and your parents live now, so...” You clicked your tongue and Auston rolled his jaw, acting completely offended to hide how much he had missed you chirping him. The way it melted him.

“We’re still going,” he insisted, turning the wheel at the next intersection and pulling a U-turn. “We’ll just, uh, we’re just gonna maybe skip a couple neighborhoods, that’s all.”

You laughed — a real Kelsey belly laugh — and Auston watched as you lit up his world yet again. He didn’t even need to see any Christmas lights this year. He had all the light he needed right next to him.

Minutes later, he passed the usual first turn on your holiday lights tour and you furrowed your brow.

“Aus, where are you going? I wanted to see Ranchero Nuevo first. We always start there,” you reminded him.

“No, what’s the actual first thing we do when we go see Christmas lights?” Auston asked, pulling instead toward the strip mall at the next light. When you saw the green glow of the Starbucks sign up ahead, you smiled as it dawned on you.

“Get hot chocolate,” you said fondly. Instead of answering, Auston simply sent a soft smile your way. “You’re the greatest,” you lauded, igniting a pride that burned bright in Auston’s chest.

“Anything for you, babe,” he said before he could even realize what he’d just done. He snapped his head your way and saw that you were trying your damnedest not to smile.

He was completely taken aback as you quipped, “You can call me babe for the weekend.”

Auston did a double-take and then nodded once at your phone in your hands, which had just lit up with two missed calls and a particularly accusatory text from one Alex Matthews that you decided you would have to tend to later.

“Write this down,” Auston instructed curtly.

“What do you mean?” you laughed, holding your phone up curiously.

“I want proof that you just said that to me,” he deadpanned, jutting his chin toward your glowing screen and sending you into a fit of laughter.

After you’d both recovered, Auston picked up your drink — large peppermint hot chocolate, like always — and a coffee for himself, and you set off to wind your way through the same neighborhoods you had driven through countless times, admiring most of the decorations and poking fun at the gaudiness of some, laughing all the while, without a care.

As he pulled into a neighborhood you knew to be just a stone’s throw away from where he had recently purchased a house, Auston took a deep breath, fingers gripping the steering wheel rigidly, and decided to take the leap and say what had been circling through his brain since you’d stepped foot in the vehicle after dinner but had only just now worked up the nerve to say.

“What if we didn’t go back to our parents’ places tonight?” he asked abruptly, the words sounding much more jumbled and rushed than they had in his head.

You chuckled anxiously, staring straight ahead. “What do you mean?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pressed on. “Hear me out. What if we just went to my place for the night instead? I don’t mean to like… to hook up, or anything,” he assured. “Just to be together. I just… I really fucking missed you.” 

Uh, whoops. He hadn’t exactly meant to slip that last part in there, but it was too late to turn back now.

There was a lengthy pause and the car was frighteningly silent as you weighed your options.

“Well...” you eventually said, nibbling on your bottom lip. “If it’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me.”

“Yeah?” Auston asked immediately, searching your face for confirmation that he had just heard you correctly. He couldn’t believe that this — any of this— was really happening.

You nodded.

“Yeah. And… Aus?” you spoke.

“Yes, Kelsey?” he asked softly, joy radiating from his whole being and seeping into his words.

You leaned your head back against the seat and reached to wrap your hand around his on the center console.

“I really fucking missed you, too,” you told him.

_____

“Why did you agree to come with me tonight anyway, Kelsey?”

You and Auston were each almost a full bottle of wine deep by the time he asked this, inhibitions now lowered. He’d barely finished giving you the tour before you were both so palpably overwhelmed by the reality of being alone together in his house, with so many feelings buzzing about frenetically, that you took the liberty of pulling a bottle of red from the wine fridge and asking for glasses and a corkscrew. Auston forked them over without question, and now you were deeply entrenched in the process of examining old battle wounds that had never quite healed.

“Because I missed you,” you answered truthfully. “And also because I owed it to you to accept your invitation when you took a chance by reaching out.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Kels,” he claimed, taking a swig.

You picked up your glass and passed by him as you began to pace the tile floor, unable to just be still during this exchange — this conversation that had been a long time coming.

“I do, though,” you argued. “You gave me everything. Everything. And I still left.”

Auston squeezed the stem of his wine glass so hard he feared he may just shatter it.

“I don’t want you blaming yourself for the things I put you through because of my career choice,” he said firmly, a hand splayed against his chest as he accepted the responsibility, just like he always did.

“But you didn’t choose to have the media posted up outside our apartment every day. You didn’t choose to have strangers stalking me and my family online. You didn’t choose to have them calling me a distraction and a leech and a gold digger and a wh—“

“Don’t say it,” he warned as he lifted a finger, referencing the specific instance of the smearing of your character that had left you broken enough to start packing your bags.

“Okay,” you conceded quietly, knowing just how sick that one word had made him. “But listen. Yes, you chose to play hockey. But you didn’t choose all that shit that came along with it. You didn’t know! Hell, you didn’t even get to choose where you played. But even so… honestly, I used to blame you for everything. Because back then, it was just easier for me to deal with it that way.”

Auston’s head hung between his shoulder blades as he leaned his palms against the bar, reliving the very same pain that had eaten away at him for the past three years, especially the acute ache that had come in the weeks immediately after you left.

“I know you did — blame me, that is,” he said softly. “And I understand why.”

You took slow and deliberate steps back to where he stood and rubbed your hand soothingly across his broad back, feeling the way his muscles relaxed under your touch.

“Hey… look at me, huh?” you asked, gently guiding his face toward yours with your fingers. “I don’t blame you, Aus. I don’t,” you assured, your eyes piercing into his. “Not anymore. I’ve grown. I know I did this. I know it’s my fault that we’re like this. I mean, fuck, I broke my own heart, and I know I hurt you. I just... at the time, I didn’t see a way forward on the road we were on.”

Auston’s mind was firing on all cylinders as he tried desperately to compute what he’d just heard, convinced he was gathering more from your words than you meant for him to.

“And now?” he ventured.

He watched as your pained expression turned to one of, dare he even think it, hope.

“I still see it, Aus,” you said. “I still see us ending up together. I know it’s out of the blue, but…”

“It’s not though,” he said, cocking his head a bit to punctuate his point. “I know it doesn’t make much sense, any of this, but… to me, it’s not out of the blue. I’ve wanted this for so long,” he told you. “And I just need you to know that. Regardless of what happens next.”

“Auston, you and me together… that’s the only thing that makes sense. That’s all that’s ever made sense to me,” you said, clarity washing over you. “But I just, I wasn’t ready. And I got so scared that I wouldn’t be able to handle your life that I… I just ran.”

“You can run, Kelsey,” Auston said softly as he, yet again, twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “But only so far.”

“Yeah…” you whispered. Then, without hesitation, you grasped his chin between your forefinger and thumb, turning his face to yours and studying his brown eyes just for a heartbeat before pressing your lips to his.

And for now, that was all that needed to be said.

_____

You hadn’t slept together. But you had slept together.

Too much crying and laughing and kissing and rehashing and wondering aloud had left you both emotionally drained and physically exhausted, and after dragging yourself into the master bathroom to throw on a crewneck and a pair of  Auston’s sweats, you’d promptly fallen asleep in his arms, a smile on his features even in sleep.

The next morning it occurred to you, with your cheek pressed against his bare chest and your legs entangled with his, that Auston’s bed — whether here, or in the house where he grew up, or in Toronto — was the warmest one you’d ever known. Though you could tell by the sunlight flooding the room that it was late in the morning, you couldn’t bear to move away from him. 

Soon, he, too, began to stir. As he squinted in the daylight and peered down at you, he closed his eyes once more, a peaceful grin on his lips.

“Oh, thank god that wasn’t just a dream,” he whispered. You chuckled, your fingertips lazily drawing shapes on his pecs as you nuzzled your head further into his neck.

“Nope,” you established. “This is very, very real.”

You lay in quiet thought for a moment before adding softly, “But what happens now?”

At that, Auston’s eyes opened wider this time, a slight panic visible in his face.

“Well,” he began, smoothing his hand over your head and kissing your hair. “What happens now is that we get some coffee.”

You sighed at his attempt to make light of the situation and pushed yourself to sit straight up in bed, cross-legged in front of where he lay on his side.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you spoke, your fingers pulling anxiously at the bedsheet below. “Yesterday was like a fever dream and now... now we have to face reality.”

Slowly, Auston sat up, too, and pulled you into his lap, allowing you to rest your back against his torso as he gathered your hair at the nape of your neck in a makeshift ponytail.

“Everything that happened yesterday was reality, baby,” he insisted, kissing the crown of your head.

“Our feelings, yes,” you allowed. “But not the rest of it. I mean, fuck, we’re both leaving town in —“ you glanced at the bedside clock and were shocked by the 11:27 that stared back at you, realizing you’d practically slept in half the day — “48 hours. And then what? I go back to LA and you go back to Toronto and we just wonder about—“

“Baby, stop,” Auston begged as he turned you to face him, bringing your forehead to his lips. “Take a breath,” he said, stroking your jaw with his thumbs as he looked down at you, concern etched into his features. “We don’t have to figure all this out right this minute. In fact, we’re not going to. For right now, let’s just let this be what it is. And you have to try and stop spinning your wheels so fast. You’re gonna burn a hole in my floor,” he joked, kissing your nose.

You chuckled sadly, holding his wrists. “You’re right,” you eventually told him. “We’ll figure it out, somehow. I know we will,” you sighed, frowning. “First things first though, I have to get home and help my mom get ready for the party tonight.”

Before you could get out of bed to start gathering your things, Auston circled his arms around your hips and kept you in his lap. “Wait, gimme a smile first,” he requested.

You looked up at him and offered a tight-lipped smile, still distracted by the future of your relationship teetering precariously in the balance.

Auston shook his head. “That’s a fake Kelsey smile,” he accused, accurately. “Don’t even try me.”

With another deep sigh, you muttered, “You’re the only soul who can tell.”

“Who can tell what?” he asked, hugging you tighter.

You looked up at him for a moment, feeling more seen than you had in years. “Which smiles I’m faking,” you said quietly.

A pleased smile twitched at the corners of Auston’s lips before he pressed his mouth to yours.

_____

Auston walked into your parents’ house that night with his understated charm and a devastating ensemble of a maroon suit, white shirt with the top few buttons undone, and black loafers, looking every bit the GQ model he was once upon a time. With two bouquets of red roses and a bottle of champagne in hand, he knocked on the glass and your dad met him enthusiastically at the door.

“What’s the occasion?” your dad then chuckled, a bit puzzled. Auston glanced to where you stood near the staircase, waiting to greet him, and smiled.

“These are for your daughter,” Auston said as he grasped one bouquet. “And these are for your wife,” he said as he gestured toward the other. Your dad raised his eyebrows, looking between the two of you pensively, and let out a loud laugh. “Well, how thoughtful! And the champagne?” your dad asked as Auston stepped toward you and tucked one bunch of roses into your hold. He kissed your cheek chastely and turned back to your dad.

“Well, you never know when you’re gonna have something to celebrate,” Auston said with a smirk. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and your dad clapped Auston’s back appreciatively before leaving the two of you to your moment.

“Thank you, for the flowers,” you said softly, staring up at him. “They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a nod before your aunt and uncle suddenly appeared in the doorway, loudly greeting you and pushing their way toward you for hugs as Auston gave them their space and waited for you to become available again.

His patience lasted all of five minutes as he made vague pleasantries with the handful of guests who had already arrived, before he was approaching you again, eager to do what he really came here to do and unable to wait a moment longer. As you turned away from a brief conversation with a longtime next-door neighbor, Auston gently grasped your wrist as he said hastily, “Can I see you outside for a second?”

You didn’t have much of a choice as he led you hurriedly through the formal living room and out the French doors to the balcony, closing them behind you and backing you into a corner, hidden from view.

“Aus, what are you—“

He pressed his body into yours, nudging you back against the rail as he took your face in his hands and kissed you hungrily.

“Doing,” you whispered when he let up, completing your earlier thought as you pressed your fingertips against your swollen lips and looked up at him, your cheeks reddening.

“That,” he answered simply with a small smile. “And I wanted to give you something...”

He patted his pockets to determine where the object was, and your eyes widened.

“Auston, no!” you exclaimed, squeezing his elbows in an attempt to stop his search. “You can’t. I didn’t get you anything. I —”

“Kelsey, are you crazy? Yes, you did,” he said firmly. “Time with you. You gave me time with you. That’s all I’ve wanted for the last three years. That’s more than I could have ever asked for.”

There was nothing you could say then, nothing that sounded worthy enough to hold any significance in such an already meaningful vignette of the two of you. Auston took your silence as his opportunity to pull a mid-sized, square, red leather box from the pocket of his suit jacket, the name “Cartier” imprinted in gold script on the lid.

“Auston, stop,” you warned in a whisper, knowing what was inside and knowing that you would be rendered completely incapable of walking away from him once he offered this gift to you, knowing what it signified for both of you. He shook his head, knowing that your request was an empty one. He propped open the box and placed it on the small wrought iron table in front of you on the balcony. You couldn’t peel your eyes from it as your mind raced with questions.

“How... where... we slept until noon, Aus,” you stuttered. “All the stores were closed. Where did you even buy this?”

He pursed his lips and nodded once, then put his hands into his pockets and admitted, “I’ve had it for almost three years, Kels.”

You blinked again and again, not processing what he’d just revealed.

“I’m sorry... what?”

“I bought this for you for Valentine’s Day three years ago,” he continued. “I bought it and I hid it in my closet and I was gonna give it to you but we broke up on —“

“January 30th...” you whispered. Auston’s brows knit together in agony, and his throat constricted.  

“You remember too,” he stated quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember a little too well,” you said, sniffling as you glanced down at the box again.

Suddenly, your mind drifted back not to that fateful day in his apartment in Toronto, but instead to lying on your stomach as a kid in your family room, flipping through the pages of your favorite issue of your mom’s old Vogue magazines, as Auston used a yardstick and a Nerf ball as makeshift hockey equipment, taking shots at your couch again and again while you soaked in the photos of beautiful models, trendy clothing, and expensive jewelry, as visions of working at a fashion magazine someday twirled through your daydreams.

“Whatcha readin’?” a ten-year-old Auston inquired as he dropped next to you to take a break from his game.

“Vogue,” you answered, turning another page. “Like usual.”

Auston nodded, spotting a pretty woman in a tight black dress and commented, “Cool,” with a laugh. “If you could have anything in that book, what would you pick?”

Ever the master of sass, you rolled your eyes.

“It’s a magazine, Aus,” you corrected with venom in your voice as Auston rolled his own eyes. “But, if I had to pick... I know just what I want,” you informed him, leafing through the issue to get back to an ad in the front. When you finally found what you were seeking, you plopped the magazine down again, smacking your hand onto its glossy pages.

“That,” you said, pointing to the gold bangle. “It’s called the Love Bracelet. It says that it gets bought by somebody you love and then they have to use a screwdriver to put it on you.”

“A screwdriver?!” Auston asked incredulously. “Wouldn’t that hurt?”

You giggled. “No, silly,” you drawled. “It doesn’t hurt. But then the person who loves you is the only one who can put it on you or take it off you. You can’t do it by yourself.”

Auston nodded. “Cool,” he repeated, more seriously this time. You sighed wistfully as you gazed down at the bracelet.

“Yeah, but it’s a whole bunch of money, and my dad said he isn’t buying it. He said maybe my husband will get me one someday,” you said sadly. Auston watched your face drop, then, he got an idea.

“How about this,” he offered, nudging you with his elbow. “If I get famous for playing baseball, or hockey I guess, and I make a boatload of money, then I’ll buy you that bracelet. ‘Kay?”

You blushed, hunching your shoulders as you were slightly embarrassed by your best friend’s offer. Still, you loved Auston, and you knew he loved you. He was the only person you wanted to get that bracelet from, except for like, your mom or dad.

“Okay,” you agreed. “You promise?”

Auston dragged his index finger over the left side of his chest. “Cross my heart,” he confirmed.

This time, it was your turn to say, “Cool.”

“I asked my mom to hold onto it,” you heard him telling you now. Now that you’d become the people you’d said you’d be. Now that you both had grown into the farfetched dreams you’d shared as children. Now that you’d come back home — back to one another. Now that he was here, in front of you, again. “I just couldn’t bear to take it back, even though I honestly never thought I’d get the chance to give it to you.”

You were shaking your head endlessly, attempting to stop tears from streaking your face. “I can’t believe this...” you said, awestruck.

“I don’t have to put this on you right now,” Auston said, swallowing his own tears he felt creeping up on him. “I just want you to have it. It’s yours. You should keep it.”

With a few swipes at your undereyes, you rubbed away the wetness on your hands and then extended your left wrist to Auston. A smile flashed briefly across his lips before he set them in a straight line once more.

“Are you sure?” he asked, caution in his voice.

You pulled him in by his waist, beaming, before you answered.

“I’ve played this out basically every night since I left,” you told him. “Even when I was with somebody. I just followed the path my mind was taking me all the way to the very end, until there was no place left to go. And it always leads to you. It always leads me home.”

Auston pulled you into a searing kiss, both of you smiling into it, before he squeezed your hand and reached for the box, carefully disassembling the bracelet so that he could put it on you at last.

“All day I’ve been thinking about what I said earlier. About running,” you spoke as Auston worked on securing the bracelet. “I started running and running and it’s been such a mess since then. Nothing about the past three years made any sense to me. And then I saw you, and… it all made sense again. You and I were the only thing that ever made sense to me,” you told him, your voice wavering as he twisted the final screw into place, lifting the inside of your wrist to his lips and placing a warm, reverent kiss to the skin there, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. “So I’m done. I’m done running, Auston. I can’t run anymore.”

“You have no fucking clue how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” Auston admitted, touching his forehead to yours before leaning back. “So, to your earlier point... what the hell are we supposed to do now?”

You ran a frazzled hand through your long hair and bit at the inside of your cheek as you formulated your response. “I mean, I have to go back, Aus. I’m working on a really big project...”

Your words put him into a tailspin of his own this time, watching the dreams he had let resurface over the last two days come crashing down in front of him all over again. You were eluding him. Again.

His ears were buzzing so loudly that he barely heard your next words.

“But maybe after that... I could come and spend some time in Toronto?”

Auston pulled his tongue away from the roof of his dry mouth and pleaded, in a voice barely above a whisper, “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t say that unless you really mean it,” he said, desperation in his tone.

“I mean, really, I don’t have a choice,” you pointed out with a breathy laugh, your fingers tracing the cold metal of the bangle around your other wrist. “I don’t see any other way that this ends. Not after this. This perfect fucking weekend. I mean... do you?”

“No,” he quickly retorted. “No, I don’t. I was just scared that you... that this was going to be it for you. That we would have this incredible time together and then it would just be another chapter in the Auston and Kelsey history book.”

You smoothed your hands over his lapels, allowing your body to fully relax into his.

“Auston, this... this is different,” you said somberly. “Before, it all just felt like too much. I got scared. We were so young, Aus. I mean, we’re still young, but we were babies. And now... I’ve realized that dealing with the press and the social media and the fans... it’s worth it to me. I’ll never like it. But I love you. And that’s enough. That will always be more than enough for me — being with you. And I’m so sorry that it’s taken me this long, that it took me finally coming back home, to realize that.”

“Don’t be sorry, Kels, please,” Auston whispered, one hand clutching at your hip, the other tangled in the hair at the back of your head as he held onto you with everything he had, knowing he was ready to do so for as long as you would let him. “Just... just say it again, baby. Please?”

“I love you, Aus,” you whispered, tears falling freely down your cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m never gonna stop.”

“Don’t stop,” Auston pleaded, nuzzling his nose against yours before pressing his lips to your mouth. “Don’t ever stop. Promise?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

“Cross my heart,” you whispered, drawing a pretend line across your chest before cupping his cheek and kissing him tenderly.

[twh-news]

Interview: Makeup Artist Douglas Noe on Loki’s Looks Through the Years & Creating Anew for ‘Loki’ [EXCLUSIVE]

Douglas Noe has been in Hollywood for three decades. An award-winning makeup artist, he’s worked on projects such as World War Z, Planet of the Apes, Spider-Man 3, I Saw the Light, and Birth of a Nation. On top of these impressive credits, he’s also been Tom Hiddleston’s personal makeup artist since joining the MCU in The Avengers, designing all of the looks for Loki’s subsequent appearances.

Noe has been nominated for three Emmys with one win, and five Makeup Artist and Hairstylist (MUAHS) Awards resulting in two MUAHS awards. His skills include creating making natural and period looks, prosthetics, hair, and tattoos.

Along with being the head of the makeup department for the most recent Disney+ series Loki, Noe is also creating looks for the new Netflix comedy series True Story starring Kevin Hart and Wesley Snipes.

We had a chance to chat with Douglas Noe about his work on Loki, The Avengers, the incomparable value of teamwork on set, and most importantly, Richard E. Grant.

Nerds and Beyond: So you started your Marvel journey with The Avengers, but what drew you to your field in the first place? And how did you get your start?

Douglas Noe: Star Wars was a huge influence to me as a young boy, both sketching and drawing, and a little bit of sculpting but not much. Cut to 1983, Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” comes out and I find a magazine called Fangoria on the newsstands where I can order blood and wax and pencils and fake hair. So, I started playing with these things. I was also taken with the horror movie craze that was happening in the early 80s — Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th, and others, obviously.

In High School, in 1984, I joined choir thinking I would get an easy credit, but my voice had not changed. So the choral instructor had been waiting for a boy soprano to do a theatrical opera presentation. So with that I sang the lead, I quit choir after that, because my peers were merciless, but, I learned the world of theatrical makeup which I hadn’t been introduced to.

I did years of theater. I went to a performing arts high school — it’s called Fort Hayes School for the Performing Arts in Columbus, Ohio — graduated, went to beauty school, and continued working in Ohio doing industrial, commercial, theater, and opera [makeup]. Worked for Maybelline and Revlon, got restless, worked in Cincinnati on my first film in the summer of 1990, it was July so 31 years ago, A Rage in Harlem. And my boss said you come to Los Angeles, I’ll make sure you get on your feet.

Nerds and Beyond: So you mentioned that it’s been about 31 years since your career started, what’s changed over the course of those 30 years in your field?

Douglas: How much time do we have? I’d say the biggest, biggest change would probably be the way we make these things now. Although another large change, more specific, would be the materials that we use. There’s a constant evolution and reinvention of almost all aspects of the materials that a makeup artist uses. That said, I have to shine a light on the way we do things now with the onset of digital and digital cameras. Shooting on film now has almost completely fallen by the wayside. Film was very forgiving, quite frankly, and now it’s not so forgiving. And because of that, the bar has been raised. The wonderful thing about this journey is watching my peers just get better and better and better, my colleagues rising to meet the challenge of not having anything to hide from with this new way we make films.

Nerds and Beyond: So, sometimes you kind of throw prosthetics to the wayside in favor of a more traditional makeup. How do you make that decision on which one to go with?

Douglas: That’s an excellent question. The decision is based purely on what are we going to see. That’s where I start, what is the lighting? I have a conversation with the director of photography and I find out what is the dynamic. Obviously, I know from the script whether it’s an interior or exterior, or if we’re exterior but we’re going to be on a stage, if it’s day or night. These variables all play into my decision as to whether or not I should rely on my theatrical experience and ability to paint 2D to appear 3D, or go ahead and make small prosthetics and put them where I need to put them and use actual prosthetics in lieu of paint.

That has everything to do with lighting, locations, logistics, and because most of his [Loki’s] wounds appear on his arm and some on his face in the Void, it’s all very moody and very dark. And again, the theatrical quality of the paint is not going to be altered by the changing light, it’s just going to react the same way the rest of the face is going to react. It’s purple light, it’s going to make everything have a purple hue. There was no accounting for any correction that didn’t need to be done. There wasn’t anything wrong with that. It’s real.

Nerds and Beyond: So, you did make up for not only Tom on Loki, but you helped plan out the looks for everybody?

Douglas: Yes, what I do is I surround myself with strong talent. It’s all about team. I designed Wunmi Mosaku, Gugu Mbatha-Raw, Sophia DiMartino, and Tom [Hiddleston]. Regarding the rest of it, Neil Ellis, both Dennis Liddiard and I, added to the elements of his scars and wounds, which you would only see in close-ups.

The rest of it, the parameters are set — Blade Runner to Mad Men — and stay in those confines. And obviously, I choose color palettes for the women and there are parameters set for the men, but then it’s about team. I’m a big one on a team and not putting my thumbprints on other people’s work, but rather build other people up so they feel like they own what they’re doing.

My team consists of artists that also have stronger resumes and quite frankly, skills that exceed mine. It’s the mutual trust that allows us to keep a high level of artistic integrity in every aspect of the job. It also means I get the very best from my team, and it shows on the screen.

So, I didn’t have every look in my hand. Dennis Liddiard designed the Mobius character and I had Ned Neidhardt run with Gugu and turn up the volume on some of the elements that she already possesses that we can play with. Her eyes and lips, I think Ned turned the volume on both. And because we’re shooting in order, it’s a progression in the makeup you did.

Nerds and Beyond: When it came to Sylvie and Loki, when you when you’re doing those, did you try to kind of plan them both to have any similar things to give them a Loki look?

Douglas: It’s a fair question, but the answer is no. So again, I think the characteristics and traits that were going to be similar among them, aside from wardrobe and costume hints, were all character driven. And I did nothing with the makeup and hair to try to make them look or even closely resemble each other.

Nerds and Beyond: I want to kind of back up a little bit to Tom in the first Avengers film. That was by far one of his most standout looks. Can you tell me anything about what went into the creation of that absolutely tormented, haunted look that he had throughout that entire movie?

Douglas: Yeah, and that’s probably one of the elements that, because the character has evolved, we kind of left with Avengers because by the end of Avengers, and we carried it into Endgame, he does have a bit of an edgier look in Avengers, and not many people pick up on it. But the reality is he’s a little sculpted in Avengers.

I remember sculpting his cheekbones and temples, and doing a little play on his forehead for when he’s in the cell on the Helicarrier carrier with all that overhead lighting. I did like a little devil horn shadow, which is so subtle. The only person who’s going to notice is anybody who looks back at it and having read this and knows what to look for, but it is so nuanced and so subtle. And that’s the only place I think we did that. But the rest of him is very much chiseled and sculpted, but it’s a light touch.

And I think, again, as he evolved through the Marvel Universe and into the other movies that was something that was easy to leave behind, because I think that look played directly into his evil desire to rule over Earth. We rested that design element with that storyline.

Nerds and Beyond: It’s very clear too and I’ve always loved looking at that, because I’m a huge fan of the character. I’ve always loved kind of comparing how he looked in that movie to the rest of them.

Douglas: You’re on to me!

Nerds and Beyond: I’m not! I swear [laughs] So, what’s your best method for making the actors comfortable in the makeup chair? And with the final outcome?

Douglas: It’s dialogue; listening, talking to them, talking to their representation, whether it be an agent or a manager, and doing my homework and doing my due diligence to find out what’s going to make them comfortable the moment they walk through the door. I do my homework on them. It’s not just IMDb, it’s an internet search. So, I spend some time on the web and find out who these folks are, and if I find out, for example, they’re not one that likes to talk a lot, well, the writing’s on the wall, we’re not going to talk a lot, we’ll cut to the chase and get to the point. But also, it’s about building a rapport and building a relationship. Also, knowing that, I’ve said this in previous discussions, knowing it’s necessary to get out of the way.

Like if, for example, I’m not a proper fit for somebody, I have to be plugged in, I have to be aware enough to understand that it may not be working before somebody says to me, “Hey, this isn’t gonna work.” So it’s just about being open, especially as Tom’s personal on these projects and running the department, knowing that I don’t get to do everybody. I don’t get to put my thumbprint on other people’s work. Because not only is that disrespectful, it’s very often unnecessary, because I hire good people. I hire contemporaries and peers. Truly, you’re only as good as your weakest crew member. I surround myself with good people.

So, take Owen Wilson, for example, it would have been wonderful to do Owen’s makeup, but there were times when he was not going to be shooting with Tom and I was going to need to be ready for Tom or available to Tom, so it didn’t make sense. So I never touched Owen, I had Dennis Liddiard design that look and run with it. And then Ned Neidhardt took over that look when Dennis had to depart. That’s just one example of not trying to do everything.

Another one was the Classic Loki. I wanted to do Richard E. Grant’s [makeup] so bad, I can’t even tell you. I’ve been a huge fan since 1987. I wanted so badly to bring that full circle, didn’t make sense. It just didn’t make sense. So again, I never touched him. It wasn’t necessary. Ned was always there. And I think the same thing happened to me on Ragnarok reshoots, which I ran in Atlanta again with Dennis Liddiard. I wanted so badly to do Sir Anthony Hopkins makeup, but it didn’t make sense. So I was happy to hand it off to Bill Myer.

Nerds and Beyond: Oh man, I loved Richard E. Grant in this show so much.

Douglas: He’s amazing.

Nerds and Beyond: He’s so good!

Douglas: He really is. And he’s that good in person. He’s just so fun and interesting and alluring and attractive. He’s such a wonderful, wonderful person and, of course, a phenomenal actor.

Nerds and Beyond: I was watching little videos that he posted and he just seems like the warmest person.

Douglas: You know, just one last tidbit about Richard Grant is he’s got wonderful stories and as he’s telling them he’ll often stop and pause and just laugh. Just laugh, not for the sake of the stories or for anybody that he’s telling the story to, but because recounting the story brings him true joy. So he’ll stop and embrace that joy. Oh, it’s so wonderful.

Nerds and Beyond: That’s so amazing to hear. What is the most memorable job that you’ve done?

Douglas: The most memorable … That’s a tough one because I have so many fond memories of so many projects. The first Avengers film was memorable because there was a buzz, there was a vibration, a frequency, that was in the air when we were shooting that. We kind of knew we were making something big and something special. I don’t think any of us knew how big or how special it would be, but that certainly is one of the most memorable and most special projects.

I’m pretty good about focusing on the positive aspects of all these things, regardless of how difficult the project may be for whatever reason. The pros always, always heavily outweigh the cons, but I have a lot of wonderful, memorable experiences. Another one, it’s the polar opposite only because of the conditions in which we shot, but Birth of the Nation was one of the most memorable and exceptional experiences of my career. I was on the wrong side of 40, had 25 years of experience, and had still never worked so hard in my entire life. We did a 50-day shoot in 27 days. So proud of the work we did.

It was 100 degrees with 99 percent humidity, we shot it in the summer in Georgia, in Savannah, so it was hot, humid, and just getting the makeup necessary to be on individuals to stay put was its own challenge. And then the other challenges only added to that. But Nate Parker, the director, writer, producer, and lead actor, he is a special human being. And he was inspiring from start to finish. Usually, the first people in are the teamsters, transport department, and usually I’m second. He beat me in almost every single day. He’s in three hours before he needs to be. That was a very special experience.

Nerds and Beyond: Finally, are you excited about the news of Loki Season 2?

Douglas: I’m beyond thrilled! I invite being in the dark a little bit, I kind of like surprises and I like not knowing, so I suspected, but hearing the news confirmed, I was thrilled, naturally. What are they going to dream up? This is amazing. How do you top season 1 of Loki? That’s the burning question.

[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You Chapter 9

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 9

Chapter Summary: What happens when a busy schedule leaves you lonely?

Rating: 18+

Chapters:  {Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6} {Chapter 7} {Chapter 8}

It had been weeks since Faye had seen Henry outside of work. Henry's schedule was packed with choreography practice, training, filming and hush hush phone and zoom interviews he refused to tell Faye anything about. She was starting to get the feeling he had given up on her and was moving on. Why else would he refuse to tell her anything about this 'project' he was working on? Not a single clue was dropped. He continuously sited 'not wanting to jinx it' as his reasoning for not telling her. She was banned from his house for the last three weeks, finding herself right back where this had all started. Could it even be called a relationship? They had never agreed to be exclusive or anything, so it wasn't like she could lay some sort of claim on the man. It seemed he was drifting further and further away with every passing day.

Briar was taking it harder than her mother was. He was the first male presence outside of her grandfather and uncle she regularly had contact with. To say she had quickly become attached was an understatement. One particularly heartbreaking evening, she had convinced herself he would be coming over and bringing "Princess Kal" as she had dubbed the poor canine. She sat by the front window, clutching her stuffed bunny stubbornly until far after her bedtime, finally breaking down into hysterical sobs when she realized he really wasn't coming. Faye's texts to Henry about the child's expectations went unanswered.

A few days ago, Mrs. Anderson was unable to babysit, leaving Faye no choice but to either call in sick, or bring her daughter with her to work. Last time hadn't caused much of a problem, so hopefully she would be able to get away with it again. Just as long as it didn't become a habit, it wouldn't be a problem, right? It really wasn't, either. For the first hour or so, the child sat in the corner of the makeup trailer, mesmerized by the movie playing on her tablet. Faye had breezed through the battle wounds on some dwarves and applied the prosthetic ears on the elves in that time, her daughter calmly tucked away the entire time.

Then came time for Henry to get into the makeup chair. The second he stepped foot into the trailer, Briar had latched herself onto his legs, sobbing and clutching his pant leg like her little life depended on it. To say Henry panicked would be an understatement.

"I told you she missed you." Faye shrugged. In fact, she had mentioned several times how Briar kept asking about him. It was a bit of a wakeup call as far as her dating life was destined to go. If Henry was only around for a few months and Briar had attached herself so firmly to him, what would happen if Faye actually dated someone and spent even more time with him? Briar would be devastated if it didn't work out.

"I'm so sorry, princess." Henry soothed, detaching the toddler from his leg and scooping her up, letting her continue to cry into his neck. "I've been busy, I wasn't trying to make you sad." He assured, sitting in the makeup chair with the little girl still clinging to his shirt.

Faye may have failed to mention the multiple meltdowns she'd had to endure due to his sudden absence, but why should she bother the man with it? It's not like it was his job to pacify her daughter. She just wished the little girl hadn't grown so attached to him in the short time she had known him.

Briar completely refused to be apart from Henry for the rest of the day, perching herself in his chair while he filmed, staring intently at him as she clutched her bunny to her chest, whimpering unsurely the first few takes of a particularly rough fight sequence. Thankfully, she had calmed quickly, Faye explaining to the little girl that he was just playing pretend and wasn't going to get hurt.

She had reattached herself to him the second he drew too close, practically climbing him like a monkey to cling to his neck again. Faye was past the point of trying to stop her by then. She had been the one dealing with it ever since he had decided to vacate the little girl's life. At least now he could see first hand why Faye had been so irritable with him lately.

He vowed to Facetime later that night to say goodnight to the little girl when he had strapped her into her car seat that evening, the child unwilling to let her mother take her to the car by herself. His promise didn't stop her from sobbing the whole way home. The poor girl cried herself out by the time Faye had pulled into the driveway, half asleep all the way through dinner, ultimately passing out at the table, a forkful of pasta clutched in her chubby fist.

To his credit, Henry had called later that night, well after Briar's bedtime. Again, he apologized profusely for his insane schedule in the voicemail he had left. Faye wasn't in the mood to talk anymore, too drained from her daughter's most recent meltdown.

Now, here he stood at her doorstep five days later, his shoulders slumped in defeat and a pleading look on his face as Faye blocked his entry into her home with her tiny body.

"Can I help you?" Faye asked calmly, crossing her arms and leaning against her door frame.

"Faye, please, can we talk?"

"What's there to talk about?" Faye brushed him off, fixing him with a cold look.

"You're avoiding me."

"Excuse the fuck out of you?" Faye hissed, stalking toward him and shutting the door harshly behind herself. "I'm avoiding you? Are you seriously going to pretend the last three weeks never happened? One second, you're around all the time, the next I only see you at work. You dodge my calls, refuse to see me and break my three year old daughter down into hysteria thinking she did something wrong. Please, go on, tell me how I'm the one avoiding jack shit here!"

"I deserve that." Henry sighed, roughly shoving a hand through his untamed curls.

"Goddamn right you do." Faye hissed, fury burning intensely in her usually wide, innocent brown eyes.

"Please, Faye. Can you hear me out?"

"What's there to talk about? You got bored and you left me behind. I don't want your fucking excuses."

"I promise, I wasn't trying to avoid you, and I didn't get bored of you!" Henry growled, anger taking over his once apologetic face at her accusations.

"Then what the hell is it? Please, tell me why I should be okay with only being in your life when it's convenient to you."

"I've been busy, Faye! My life doesn't revolve around you!" Faye's entire body tensed at his outburst, returning his fiery gaze with a cold stare.  

"And mine doesn't revolve around you either, Mr. Cavill. If you don't have time for us, that's fine. I understand we aren't a priority for you. You've made that much clear. That doesn't mean I have to be at your beck and call whenever you can fit me in. I have my own life. I have a daughter to take care of, and I don't need you breaking her heart every time you can't spare a goddamn second for her."

"I wasn't trying to hurt her. I wasn't trying to push you away." Henry seethed. "You think I enjoyed being away for this long? You think I liked not spending time with you?"

"You make time for the things that matter, Mr. Cavill. Clearly, that's not us." Faye replied, her calm tone slashing through Henry's heart worse than any previous rage or hostility could. These were not words created by anger and meant to hurt him in the heat of the moment. This was coming from a detached, practical place in her mind. This was something she had thought about, long and hard.

"Faye." Henry sighed, his tense shoulders falling in defeat. "I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt Briar. The time I've spent with you two these last few months have been the happiest I've been in years. I understand if you don't want to see me, but I really wish you would. I... damnit, I fucking need you two." He admitted shakily, his eyes falling to Faye's feet, taking notice of the black ink covering the top of her right foot for the first time. Had he really paid so little attention that he hadn't even noticed that? Was he really that detached from something that brought him so much unconditional joy?

"And what am I supposed to do when you vanish again? It's the life you live, Mr. Cavill-"

"Henry. Please, call me Henry." He pleaded softly, each utterance of the removed name feeling like a knife to his heart.

"You aren't tied down to one place. You travel all the time. Why should I let you continue hurting us? What promise can you possibly give us that you won't just leave again?"

"I never left, I've been right here." Henry whispered, unsure hands coming to rest on her hips, slowly lowering his forehead to rest against hers. He had no idea when they had gotten so close during their argument, but he had to admit, it felt good to hold her again. "Please. I promise, I won't vanish again. If I can't be here in person, I'll call, I'll Facetime, I'll send video messages, I'll text. I will do anything and everything I can to be here for you."

"Then what happens when you find someone else?" Faye countered, remaining stiff in his hold, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest, subconsciously trying to block him out and build a wall between them.

"I'm not looking for anyone else." Henry assured, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head.

"Doesn't mean you won't find her."

"Then this mystery woman can sod off. I'm not interested." Henry hummed, pulling Faye closer to wrap his arms around her, resting his cheek atop her head, her tension slowly fading away with his embrace. "Can you forgive me for being an ass?" He asked hopefully, peppering the top of her head with kisses.

"This time. There won't be a next time. I don't have time to invest in someone that won't make any time for me."

"I promise, I will make time for you two." Henry vowed, reluctantly taking a step back to look into her face. "Would it be too much to ask to come inside? I sure could use one of Briar's special cups of tea."

"Mmm, you might be out of luck then. She's decided she wants to be a knight instead now." Faye informed him, slipping away from his desperately clutching hands to push the door open, Briar freezing in the middle of charging through the house on her hobby horse, sword in hand when she saw the man standing outside.

"You're back?!" She gasped, dropping her toys and bolting past her mother, Henry catching her as she rushed him, hoisting her into his arms and letting the little girl sling her arms around his thick neck. "I sorry... I be good." She sniffled, her chubby hands gripping his collar tightly.

"Oh, sweetie. Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong." Henry soothed, rubbing her back softly. "I was the one that was naughty, can you forgive me for being mean to you and your mommy?"

"Don't go." Briar whimpered, burrowing further into his neck, her sobs only increasing at his apology.

"I won't, I won't." Henry promised, smoothing down her wild, uncombed hair, looking fearfully up at the child's mother. Was this what she had been dealing with since he had been away?

"She got it in her head you were mad at her, and that's why you weren't coming around anymore." Faye explained, nodding him inside.

"I'm so sorry." Henry repeated, holding the toddler a little tighter as he slid past her mother, perching himself on the arm of the couch as she sobbed into his neck.

"You understand why I'm not too keen on second chances?" Faye sighed, locking the door behind herself. "I'm not going to keep putting her though this. I don't expect you to change your lifestyle, so when we fall to the backburner again, please, do me a favor and stay gone. It's not fair to her."

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I truly have been busy."

"I know. That's your life." Faye shrugged, leaning against the archway to the living room.

"What can I do to make it up?"

"You can't. You just have to understand that this is the last time I will allow this to happen. If you get too busy for us again, I won't open the door the next time you come knocking." Faye's declaration hung in the air, the sureness of her voice leaving no room for argument or further exchange of words. A desperate sort of silence befell the two adults, the only noise in the house being made by the small girl in Henry's arms.

Briar's sobs slowly gave way to small sniffles and hiccups, her tiny hands refusing to release his shirt, unashamedly wiping her nose on the fabric. Henry was the one to finally break the suffocating silence that had taken over the room.

"Could I ask for your help with something?"

"What might that be, Mr. Cavill?"

"Please, Faye. Henry. Call me Henry, or anything else really. I didn't mean to hurt you or set us back months. Call me any number of mean names, just... not that." Henry pleaded, resting his head against Briar's.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I need to shave my head." Henry sighed after a long moment, turning sad eyes up to her.

"You want me to shave your head?"

"You're the only one I trust to do it right now."

"You literally have a hairstylist on set."

"This is different." Henry insisted.

"How is this different?"

"Believe it or not, I like my hair. Shaving it off isn't exactly a fun time for me."

"Is the tape getting to painful to remove?" Faye asked, raising an inquisitive brow.

"I mean, it will be a plus not having to deal with that for a while, but no. I... I have a screen test in a few days. Over zoom, but a screen test none the less."

"Oh, congrats."

"But the role calls for a military style cut." Henry continued. "Which means it all has to go."

"What role is it for?" Faye asked, crossing the room to run her fingers through his unruly curls.

"Mass Effect." Henry divulged, leaning into her touch.

"So you showed up for a haircut?" Faye asked, detangling his hair with her fingers.

"I showed up because I missed you, but it made me realize you're the only one I'm comfortable with doing it. I've been dreading it for over a week now."

"I only have scissors here. The best I can do is a hack job." Faye informed, continuing to play with his hair absently. It was so soft when he didn't try to tame it. The products that kept it in check, looking so neat and orderly, always made it stiff and crunchy. His natural hair was a thing of beauty.

"I have clippers back at my house. You're both more than welcome to stay the night."

"You know Briar won't stay in the guest room." Faye sighed, rolling her eyes.

"I'm fairly certain I'm not in good enough standing with you for us to be doing anything that young eyes shouldn't see." Henry chuckled, looking hopefully up at the woman gently running her nails over his scalp.

"You are not." Faye confirmed around a giggle of her own, playfully tugging at his hair.

"Easy, love, the baby is right here." Henry lightheartedly scolded, raising his brow at her.

"You should have mentioned you enjoyed that sooner. No time to take advantage of it before I chop it all off now." Faye sighed, reluctantly letting her hand fall away, Henry reaching out to pull her closer, looking up at her hopefully.

"What are the odds I can talk you out of a kiss?" He asked, staring longingly at her mouth. Faye smirked and rolled her eyes in mock annoyance, leaning down to allow him to press a slow, affectionate kiss to her lips, reluctantly pulling back when Briar began to stir from her crying fueled power nap against his neck. "There you are, sleepy head." Henry chuckled, easing the child down to his lap instead.

"You here?" Briar asked, rubbing her still red eyes, staring up at him with a wobbly lower lip.

"I'm here. Would it be ok if you and Mommy stay at my house tonight?" Henry asked, wiping away the dried tears from her face.

"I bring Bunny?" She asked, her face finally splitting into a grin when Henry agreed to her request.  

"You go get Bunny, I'll pack you a few things." Faye instructed, Henry reluctantly setting the girl down so she could do as her mother asked.

"Thank you, so much." Henry sighed, pulling the tiny woman against his large frame, dropping his head to rest against the top of her chest.

"For letting you use my tits as a pillow?" Faye teased, running her fingers through his hair again, wanting to memorize the feel of his curls before she had to chop them all off.

"Secuititty." Henry chuckled, pulling her in to straddle his hips, needing to be even closer to her. "Thank you for giving me another chance."

"Try not to blow it."

"I'll do my absolute best."  

@Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny

[storiesforallfandoms]

secrets ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2467

request?: yes

“Colson & reader are dating in secret & one day at a party, she sees him dancing with a few girls. She approaches them & asks Colson what time he wants them to head home & he acts like he doesn’t know her and basically treats her like a groupie. She storms off & he immediately feels guilty, chasing her but by the time he gets out the door she’s gone. She turns her phone off for the night & when she turns it back in the next morning, she sees that Colson has announced their relationship publicly!”

description: in which he takes pretending not to be dating her too far and risks their relationship

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, angst

masterlist

I never had a problem with keeping mine and Colson’s relationship a secret. I understood the concerns he had with how his fans would react and what kind of messages I might start receiving from them. I had seen the harassing messages his fans had sent his rumored girlfriends, I couldn’t imagine how they’d react when they got a confirmation that he really was in a relationship.

However, I did have a problem with groupies still trying to flirt with him due to them know knowing that he was taken.

Even though we weren’t public about our relationship, Colson still took me to parties or to clubs with him, we just acted more friendly than romantic in public. Going to these parties and the clubs gave me a front row seat to see how girls reacted when he was around. It was always some girl wearing a dress so short and so low cut that she may as well be wearing nothing at all, wearing dark makeup and bright red lipstick to bring everyone’s attention to her lips, and she’d already be half shitfaced and ready to fuck the first thing that moved, in this case Colson, mainly because he was famous.

Most of the time, Colson would turn them down, no matter how hard they pleaded with him. He’d always say he wasn’t into random hookups, which everyone thought was untrue since he had been all about hookups in the early years of his career, but sometimes it was enough to get the girls off of him.

That is, until Dom’s party.

Dom, aka Yungblud, decided to throw a party just because. There was no reasoning for it, he just wanted to get his friends together and have a good time. Colson went, of course because he and Dom were best friends, and invited me to go with him, which I did. Shortly after we arrived at the party, I lost track of Colson. I wasn’t too concerned, I trusted him to not do anything stupid. However, being at a party where the only people I knew were the host and my boyfriend made me a little awkward, so I wished he were still by my side.

“(Y/N)!” I heard a familiar British accent exclaim and I almost sighed with relief when I saw Dom’s smiling face come into view.

He pushed through the crowd of people in front of him and came to stand next to me, throwing his arm around my shoulder. “Hello love, you enjoying yourself?”

“Enjoying myself enough,” I responded with a shrug. “I lost Colson so I’m a little awkward.”

“Oh! I saw him not too long ago,” Dom said. He pointed in the direction of the large crowd ahead of us. “He was over there somewhere talking to someone.”

“Very helpful Dom,” I teased. “But thanks, I’ll try looking for him again.”

“If you can’t find him, I’ll be around to keep you company.”

I smiled and thanked him again before going on another search for Colson. I awkwardly pushed my way through the crowd of people, apologizing when anyone shot me a dirty look, in an attempt to find him. When I finally came to another clearing, I found Colson, but was horrified to see that he wasn’t alone. He was dancing with two girls, and by dancing I mean they were so close to basically just dry humping.

I wasn’t sure what to do or what to say. I wasn’t sure if it was just supposed to be harmless dancing and the girls were getting too close, or if they had been close the whole time. All I knew was that I was not enjoying what I was seeing, and I was certainly not going to let it keep happening.

I approached the group and called Colson’s name over the music. At first, he didn’t respond. I thought it was because he couldn’t hear me, so I called again, which drew the attention of the girls he was talking to, but not him.

“Um, Kells,” one said, “I think this...girl wants to speak to you.”

They both looked at me with so much disdain, as if I was the dirt they walked on. In that moment, I wished I could just melt into the floor and stop existing.

Colson turned to look at me, but for a moment it looked as though he didn’t recognize me. I pulled my attention away from the girls and tried to sound confident. “I’m...I’m not feeling the best. Can you take me home?”

The girls turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. I could see they were prepared to walk away from him at the prospect of him being there with another girl, which made me appreciate them just a little more.

But when Colson responded, I felt my heart drop to my stomach.

“Do I know you?”

Both girls looked at me with glares, easily believing that I was some random girl that was trying to go home with Colson, which is exactly what they were.

“You’re not funny,” I told him. “I’m serious, I’m not feeling great. If you’ve had a few to drink I can drive us, I just want to go home.”

“Listen honey, I don’t go home with just anyone,” Colson responded. “I’m not into groupies. Go try with someone else, I heard the host of the party is pretty famous too.”

I felt my heart shatter as the girls around him laughed. I felt a lump forming in my throat, but quickly turned before any of them could see me cry. I pushed through the crowd again, this time less apologetically, until I found the front door. The minute I opened it, the brisk night air hit me, and I began to cry. I sat down on the front steps and sobbed by myself.

How could he do this to me? We had been together for nearly two years, he had always seemed so committed to our relationship and he always treated me like a queen. Was all of that an act? Was he just trying to get something out of the normal girl that he met one day nearly two years ago?

“(Y/N)? What’s wrong?”

I looked up to see Dom at the door, looking down at me with concern. I didn’t want to relive what had just happened, so I meekly asked him, “Can you call me a taxi? I don’t want to stay here anymore.”

He didn’t question why I had asked him to call a taxi instead of getting Colson. He just nodded and went back into the house. I stood and began to walk down his driveway until I got to the end to wait for the cab. Part of me wanted to go back inside and give Colson a piece of my mind, or to text him and tell him we were over, but the other part of me wasn’t ready to give up this relationship, even if it was officially hard to trust him.

Not too long after, a cab pulled up in front of Dom’s house. Before getting in, I looked over my shoulder at the house where my boyfriend was undoubtedly still grinding up against two bimbos and acting as though I didn’t exist. I sighed, trying to contain more tears from falling, before getting into the cab.

We were a short distance from my apartment when my phone began to ring. I looked down to see Colson’s name and picture lighting up my phone. I ignored the call and shoved my phone under my leg. Seconds later, it began to ring again. Yet again, it was Colson.

I repeated the process of ignoring his calls about four times before I stopped receiving the calls, but then he started to text me.

“(Y/N)? where are you? Dom says you asked him to call you a cab”

“please answer my calls baby”

“i’m so sorry. what i did was wrong. i have no explanation other than i’m a complete idiot”

“i’m sorry”

“please let me know you’re okay”

“i love you”

After some time, I had to turn my phone off. Reading his messages sickened me. He didn’t care about me, he didn’t love me, he wasn’t sorry. He was sorry he got caught. It all made sense now why he didn’t want to be public with our relationship, he wanted to hook up with groupies when I wasn’t around.

“Someone’s popular,” the taxi driver commented as I shut off my phone.

I shook my head. “It’s just one very persistent person.”

“Whoever it is must really want to get in touch with you.”

I shoved my phone in my pocket and looked up at my driver through the mirror. “Yeah, but I don’t want to get in touch with him.”

~~~~~~

Surprisingly, it wasn’t hard to sleep that night. I figured I’d be up all night crying, or being angry, or both. I thought I’d cave and turn on my phone again to respond to Colson, but to combat that I left my phone in a cupboard in the kitchen so I couldn’t easily access it.

Luckily, it didn’t take too long for me to get to sleep once I returned home. I put my head down on my pillow and in seconds flat I was out like a light. It was a better sleep than I was expecting, but I still woke up feeling exhausted, emotionally.

Instinctively, I reached for my bedside table to grab my phone. I was confused to find it wasn’t there before remembering I had left it in the kitchen. I groaned, not wanting to get out of bed, but finally managed to pull myself up long enough to trudge to the kitchen for my phone and return to bed.

Upon turning it on, I found I had more notifications than I would’ve ever expected. Some of them were texts from Colson, still apologizing and trying to reach me, some were texts from Dom asking if I was okay and saying that if I needed him to give him a call. But a majority of the notifications were from Twitter and Instagram, and they were all from accounts that I didn’t recognize, but they all had one thing in common; they were Machine Gun Kelly fan accounts.

I was confused on why I was being flooded with notifications until I saw one from Instagram saying that Colson had tagged me in a post. When I opened the app, I came to find that he has posted multiple pictures of the two of us that he had on his phone, along with a long caption.

“I have something that I have to admit to you all. I’m sorry I’ve kept this a secret for so long, but the secrets have resulted in me hurting someone I love very much, and I want to make this right somehow. Everyone, meet (Y/N), she’s my girlfriend and has been for the past almost two years. She’s not famous, which is part of the reason I wanted to keep her a secret. The last thing I wanted was for her life to change so drastically because she’s dating me. I don’t want her to be hounded by fans or paparazzi while she’s trying to live her day to day life, but we both know that’s one of the risks of dating a celebrity. The other reason I didn’t want to come out about this publicly is because I was afraid of the messages she’d receive from my fans. I’m not completely ignorant to the messages that my female friends have received after dating rumors have started, and I knew that these messages would intensify when I actually confirmed that (Y/N) and I are dating, but I also know that that is something neither one of us can stop. I am asking anyone reading this, that if you are my real fan, please do not send harassing messages to (Y/N). I love her, and because of that you should too. Anyone who does send messages will be blocked by both of us. I won’t go into details about how I hurt her, but I will say that I did something incredibly stupid and broke her heart. This is my attempt at an apology, and I hope that, if she reads it, she will accept it. (Y/N), if you’re reading this, I’m so sorry. I love you more than anything in this world and that will never change. I hope you can forgive me for what I did.”

My eyes were filling with tears yet again. As I went to scroll and read the comments, I accidentally liked the post. Near seconds later, my phone began to ring, Colson’s picture filling my screen. This time, I answered.

“Hello?”

“(Y/N), baby, I’m so sorry,” he said immediately. “I was a complete idiot, I’m so sorry for what I did."

“I know you’re sorry,” I told him. “But I just...I have to know why you did it. Why did you pretend I was a groupie in front of those girls?”

“I have no explanation other than I was drunk,” he responded. “Which I know isn’t a good explanation, but it’s the truth. I was drinking a little too much a little too fast, and these girls approached me and asked me to dance, so I said yes, with no intentions of it being more than an innocent dance. But then I started to feel more drunk, and they started to get closer to me, and I just...I just wanted to dance with these pretty girls. I was so drunk, I could barley fathom that you were the one that came asking to go home. I didn’t realize until Dom came over and told me that he had called a cab for you, and by then you were already gone. I fucked up royally, (Y/N), can you forgive me?”

I sighed. “I can forgive you, but I hope you know you have to build back up my trust in you. You can’t just post a super sappy Instagram post announcing our relationship and apologize and everything goes back to normal.”

“I know that. I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me, and how sorry I am for everything.”

“Stop saying sorry, it doesn’t sound like a word anymore,” I teased. “I’m still in bed, do you wanna come over for snuggles?”

“More than anything. I’ll pick up some breakfast on the way over.”

I smiled. “Now you’re speaking my language Baker.”

I heard him chuckle and couldn’t help but laugh as well. “I’ll see you soon baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[jetaime-jespere]

Prompt #200/105

Aaron never expected to run into his boss’s daughter in a dive bar.

But then again, Emily Prentiss was never exactly predictable.

It’s a Tuesday, the first night off he’s had in almost ten days. He’s learned quickly that working for an Ambassador is glamorous in name only. In practice, it’s typically uneventful, sometimes almost mind-numbing and boring. But it’s a foot in the door, the salary better than what he was making at his last position, and for the time being, he has to ride it out. Bide his time, climb the ladder until something better comes along.

But after ten days of work, he’s over it. Aaron expected he’d get a decent buzz when he slipped through the doors of the smoky bar alone, after yet one more fight with Haley. Their marriage has morphed into one cyclical argument, centered around a myriad of topics ranging from money and mortgages to kids and intimacy. It’s anyone’s guess what the topic of the day will be. Tonight, money was the lucky winner. Tomorrow, something else entirely.

So, if there is anyone in need of a night off, it’s Aaron. He drinks a beer in a record amount of time and then milks one more, feeling the effects of the alcohol start to kick in as he contemplates ordering a third.

What he didn’t expect was to see a slightly familiar face on one of the stools a few feet away from his own.

Aaron has seen her around before - she’s hard to miss. Emily, the Ambassador’s college-aged daughter, is the exact antithesis of her ridiculously uptight mother, and something tells him she takes great pride in that. He knows little about her, just that she’s a student at Yale with the mouth of a sailor. Around the mansion, she’s typically aloof, her face perpetually shielded by a pair of dark sunglasses that he suspects are to conceal a hangover or the aftereffects of an all nighter. She seems to always have an agenda, somewhere to be, and she doesn’t even seem to realize he exists. She appears to have time for no one, but Aaron suspects her flippant demeanor is a ruse for something else entirely. Insecurity, perhaps?

Without the sunglasses hiding her face, he gets a chance to steal a few glances from his own spot at the bar. She’s wearing a lot of makeup, clutching a drink in her hand. Emily nervously tucks her hair behind her ears every few minutes, glancing over her shoulder in what he calculates to be fifty-second increments. She’s looking for someone. Or waiting for someone. Either way, she looks nervous. So Aaron orders another drink - this will be his last - and figures it’s not worth making his presence known. Technically, he isn’t supposed to fraternize with the Ambassador or her family outside of work, anyway. A conflict of interest, they say. But something about seeing her there tells him he should stay. He subtly thanks the bartender and keeps her in his peripheral vision, distracting himself with a mindless game on the TV.

There’s a hesitant tap on his shoulder a few moments later, and when he lifts his eyes from television he’s not even watching, he’s almost surprised to see her on the stool next to him.

Emily.

“Excuse me,” she says in a low voice, the concept of personal space all but lost on her. She’s almost pressing herself right against him, as if they’ve been doing this for years, and something tells him it’s not just because the bar is crowded. “But you seem like a guy who could help me out.” She smiles, and up close like this he can’t help but think she’s stunning.

Not that he expected otherwise. “I beg your pardon?” He takes a quick sip of his beer, and then another. Liquid courage, he supposes.

“I could really use a favor,” Emily continues, batting her long eyelashes. Clearly she has no idea who he is, and Aaron has to remind himself they’ve never formally met before. He’s only ever seen her from somewhat of a distance, and of course, heard the whisperings from the other agents. He’s never much believed in rumors, though.  

Aaron opens his mouth, ready to identify himself because something tells him this could go downhill very quickly before she cuts in, throwing nervous eyes to the door once again. “What are you -”

“Please pretend to be my boyfriend.”

He nearly knocks the beer bottle over, blinking as if he didn’t hear her correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

Emily smiles apologetically, talking just a little faster than before, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I know it sounds ridiculous. I’m here by myself, and for the last half hour, there’s this guy who won’t leave me alone. I told him my boyfriend is coming but -” she glances at her feet, her cheeks flushing a shade of pink. “I don’t have a boyfriend, and he’s persistent. I’m pretty sure he spiked that drink too.”

Aaron sees the untouched drink by her place at the bar, next to the one she just finished. Just what is she doing in bars like this, by herself, at night? Where did this guy come from? Has the bartender not noticed? He has questions, but there isn't much time for answers. “Where is he?”

“Outside smoking.”

Something else crosses his mind. “I’ve been sitting here all night. You don’t think he’s already seen me?”

“He’s had his back to you the whole time. Plus,” Emily points toward the door. “The people next to us just got up and left. I highly doubt he saw you.”

Aaron wants to ask why she didn’t just get the hell up and leave with them, but her fingers tighten around his jacket sleeve, her eyes never leaving the wall of liquor bottles on the bar. “He’s coming back. At least pretend you like me, okay?”

There’s the heavy drag of shoes on the ground, a heavy odor of smoke and cigarettes permeating the air behind them. He feels Emily flinch when a large hand clamps down on her shoulder. “You’re still here” the guy leers, getting just a little too close. But then he spots Aaron, immediately pulling his hand away, his face twisting into a scowl. “So your boyfriend finally decided to show up.”

“Oh. Hi, Drew.” Emily tosses back lightly, throwing her arm around Aaron’s shoulders, leaving a kiss on his cheek. He gets a whiff of her perfume when her lips brush his skin, and for a brief moment, his mind blurs. Focus, he tells himself. “Traffic, you know.”

“You mean this is your boyfriend?” The guy, Drew, asks in disbelief, as if he doesn’t fully believe Emily. He gives Aaron a poorly concealed once-over, one that holds nothing but judgement.

“This is him,” Emily chirps, and for good measure, runs a hand through Aaron’s hair adoringly. Focus, he reminds himself. But she’s good at this, Aaron observes, wondering if she’s done this before. “You want something to eat, babe?” She reaches for a bar menu, pretending to study it.

“I’m starving,” Aaron says, hoping it’s convincing, reaching for her hand to prove a point. He squeezes her fingers, conveying the notion he’ll play along as long as she needs him to. “Whatever we got last time we were here was good.”

Emily nods approvingly, smiling sweetly at Drew with a wave of her hand. It’s a dismissal in the clearest sense. “It was great meeting you, Drew. Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too,” he grumbles, clearly not convinced and undoubtedly annoyed at Aaron’s sudden presence next to her. “I guess I’ll see you around, Emily.” He stalks off, his footsteps heavy, disappearing into the crowd.

“Thank you” Emily says with relief once he’s fully out of earshot, but Aaron notices she doesn’t move her chair away from him. “Persistent little fuck, wasn’t he?”

“Definitely.” he twists a straw wrapper in his fingers as she orders another drink, draping one long leg over the other. His eyes linger on her legs for a split second too long. He shouldn’t be this close to her, let alone have drinks with her. Yeah, this could be bad if it got out. Aaron can only imagine the reactions of his coworkers if they found out.

“So, what’s your name?” Emily asks quickly, smoothing her hair over a shoulder, visibly relaxing in front of him as she lifts the glass to her lips. “I never did ask you, did I?”

“Hotchner,” he says out of habit, only realizing his mistake when she laughs.

“Are you some kind of cop or something? Your first name, genius. You’re my boyfriend, remember?” Emily gives a slight roll of her eyes. “We should probably be on a first name basis.”

That gets a laugh from him, too. “My first name is Aaron.”

“Mine’s Emily,” she says, narrowing her eyes and studying his face carefully, as if she’s trying to place him. “You look familiar to me for some reason.”

“I know what your name is.”

Her eyebrows nearly disappear into her hairline.

“I work for your mother,” Aaron says softly, wondering if it’s the right move to make. But it’s summer; she’ll be around for the next several weeks, and if they don’t clear the air now, things could get awkward the next time their paths cross. He probably shouldn’t mention that her reputation precedes her, and he fumbles for what to say next.

Emily hand flies to her mouth, eyes widening as she processes his words. “You mean you  - you’re one of the security agents. That’s where I know you from.” She places him quickly, suddenly looking embarrassed and utterly self-conscious. “Fuck.”

“I only started last month,” Aaron offers, sensing her discomfort, yet not quite ready for her to get up and leave. “I haven’t been around very long.”  

“Yet you knew who I was,” she says suspiciously.

“You’re hard to miss.” He wants to bring up the time he witnessed the day she got home from Yale a few weeks ago, surrounded by mountains of luggage in the driveway. Her mother had been less than thrilled, and it started quite the argument between the two of them that could be heard from nearly anywhere on the front grounds.

Emily laughs loudly this time, her head tilting back with effort. “I guess I’m doing something right, then.”

He resists the urge to push the stray piece of hair from her face. Don’t even think about it, he tells himself. “Definitely.”  

“My mother is all about appearances,” she quips. “But I like to keep things interesting.”

“We could use a little bit of that around there for sure.”

They slip into a witty banter that comes easily to her; he tries to keep up with her endlessly sharp wit. Emily watches him from the corner of her eye, studying him casually as they drink. And while she’s still a bit guarded, there’s something about the way her walls slowly peel back that tell him he’s doing something correctly.

“How about a shot?” she asks out of the blue, her eyes suddenly glittering. “If you’re up for the challenge.”

Aaron briefly considers the fact that taking shots with his boss’s daughter definitely isn’t the best idea he’s ever had. He isn’t even certain she’s old enough to be drinking. But it’s too late because Emily has already flagged the bartender down with a determined wave.  

“Two tequila shots, please,” she says sweetly, even as she tosses a devious wink in his direction. “Consider it a thank you for your services tonight.”

He swallows, fully aware Emily could most likely drink him under the table and probably will.

“Let me guess.” She slides one of the small glasses towards him with a devious grin on her face. “You don’t drink very often.”

“Got me there,” Aaron retorts dryly. He can’t remember the last time he and Haley spent a night out at a bar.

He’s about to make her a deal - the next round is on him - when he realizes she isn’t looking at him anymore. Instead, her eyes are locked on the thin gold band on his left hand.

“I didn’t realize you were married.”

*I have to thank the wonderful @cmhotchniss-blog for a little inspiration with this one! 😘

[hstyleshoney]

Stay With Me  - part one

AU friends with benefits but things get complicated, like they always do

word count: around 8.3K // angst, alcohol consumption, language 

A/N: Hiiiiii! So, back in September I posted a preview kinda thing to a fic I was just casually writing and now I have finally finished it! Took a while but I’ve been going through some shit but now it’s done! It’s gonna be a two part thing (I think) because it turned out way longer than I first expected, and this part is still so long, woops.  It’s the first thing I’ve written in YEARS so please be nice haha.  (Also, English is not my first language so I’m sorry if some grammar is wrong. I’ve proofread it many times but it could still be bit off in some places.)

AND please let me know if you liked it and if I should post part 2 as well. Feedback is so so so appreciated because it’s been sooooooooo long since I posted anything and I’m scared hahah anyways..!

Hope you like it!

His lips were hot against her skin when he leaned in and whispered in her ear.

“Your place or mine tonight?”

She smiled to herself and her heart skipped a beat when she felt his warm body press against her back. The music was loud around the two of them and she could hardly hear herself think, yet his voice was clear as day. She turned to look at him and was met by his familiar warm grin as he looked right back.

“What makes you think I’ll be going home with you tonight?” she teased.

He snorted and raised his eyebrows, and she had to bite down on the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from smiling too much.

“Well, love” he started and spun her around so he could place his hands on her hips. She felt her cheeks flush under his stare as he pulled her even closer to him. He smelled like beer and tequila mixed with that cologne she loved so much. Her knees weakened and he smirked. “I think we both know you are.”

He was right.

But she wasn’t going to let him have that.

“It’s awfully bold of you to assume such a thing, Mr. Styles.”

“Is it though?” He was still smirking and she felt her knees weaken even more as his tongue poked out to wet his pink lips. Her heart was beating so hard she was sure he would’ve heard it if it wasn’t for the loud music. Sweaty bodies kept bumping into the two of them on the overcrowded dance floor, which normally she couldn’t stand, but she was drunk. Very drunk and she was hungry and tired... and also in a huge need of a wee.

However, now Harry was standing in front of her.

So needless to say nothing else really mattered anymore.

His mere presence made her forget about all the people around them and suddenly her bladder didn’t seem so full after all. That’s the effect he had on her and he knew it. With his soft brown hair that curled so pretty at the tips, his smooth skin and green eyes; there was no way she wasn’t going home with him again tonight. He was the best thing she had ever laid her eyes on and he also wanted to take her home.

So who was she to say no?

“Yours then,” she replied and tried to not sound too eager. Harry squeezed her hips again as she finally confirmed they would indeed go home with one other again and pulled her even closer into him. His chest pressed against hers and she swore she could feel his heartbeat against hers.

“See that wasn’t so hard to say, was it?” She rolled her eyes as she noticed his smug grin and as much as it pained her to do; she pushed him off, pointing a finger into his chest.

“We’re stopping to buy fries on the way though... and you’re paying!”

Harry laughed and agreed, but not before adding; “I can give you something a lot better than fries once we get back.”

And well… she didn’t disagree.

-

She wasn’t entirely sure when this thing between the two of them started, or how it started even. It was just one of those things that happened one night. Harry first came into her life when her flatmate Louisa started dating his mate Tom during their first year of uni.

The first time she met him they didn’t really speak to each other. It had really just been a case of her admiring him from afar as he was approached by a handful of women at the student bar. She thought he was probably the prettiest guy she had ever laid her eyes on and thought to herself that he was just way too cool to ever notice her.

It was obvious from the start, by just watching him, that he had an aura around him that drew everyone in. People, both boys and girls, flooded around him wherever he went. He was always the center of attention and she understood why. Because not only was he the prettiest guy she had ever seen, he was also one of the nicest guys she had ever met. At first she had just assumed he’d be an arsehole because to be fair she had never really met a guy that got as much attention as him that wasn’t one.  

However, as Louias’s and Tom’s relationship grew more serious; the more all of them hung out and she started talking to him rather than just staring from afar. She got to know him and even though the two of them were quite different from each other, they still became good friends.

While she was more of a typical girly girl who enjoyed spending a little too much money on overpriced makeup palettes and listened to whatever songs were in the top list that week Harry was a little more into old school music, bringing up bands and songs she had never heard of before. He did all his shopping at different thrift shops. He wore weird shirts and painted his nails without caring what anyone else thought while she couldn’t even leave her house without checking with all her roommates at least three times if her outfit was okay. She loved scrolling through Instagram. Harry didn’t even have an account.

He was interesting, alluring and cool.

She just wasn’t any of that.

She wasn’t his type and he was simply just out of her league.

Until one night.

It was at the start of their third year at uni and they were out to celebrate their friend Jax’s birthday. To make a complicated story short, there had just been a ridiculous amount of alcohol consumed and when she told everyone she was leaving Harry stood up too and announced he’d come with her, and because everyone was so drunk, the two of them included, no one thought more about it.

They left the club together. Harry got them an Uber and when it stopped outside her house he got out as well.

Kisses were shared and clothes came off and the next day she thought she was still dreaming when Harry was right there next to her when she woke up. There was no awkwardness though as they shared a cup of tea and he made them a full English breakfast to cure their hangovers.

And then they did the same thing again next weekend and it kinda just became a thing. That was three months ago now and it was still nothing they really talked about. Which was fine; she didn’t really want to talk about it. Because what was she supposed to say? Whatever was going on between them was working and she didn’t want to complicate things.

She was fine with just waking up next to him every now and again. Especially now when the nights were getting colder it was just nice to have a warm body to snuggle up to.

It was an agreement that worked well for both of them, even if she did fancy him a little it wasn’t a full-blown crush and Harry kept calling her his friend so that’s what she also settled on calling herself. She knew she wasn’t the type of girl he usually went for and that somehow made it easier to keep her feelings for him platonic. He was too cool for her anyway.

This way she just didn’t have to swipe through tinder or chat some random guy up at the bar to get laid.

Louisa kept warning her that she was going to get her heart broken but it was just sex. Amazing sex. He made her feel like no other man ever had. Harry knew just how to work her and it made her lose her breath every single time. Her whole body was on fire anytime he touched her. She didn’t want to think about getting her heart broken.  

“What time is it?”

Harry’s raspy voice startled her out of her thoughts and his body vibrated against hers under the duvet as he chuckled at her reaction. His arm was slung over her waist loosely and she could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck, leaving goosebumps all over her skin.

“I dunno,” she whispered back and leaned into his touch a little more. The hair on his legs tickled her smoother ones and she could feel her skin sticking against his, but neither of them made any effort to move away from each other. It was still early though, that much she knew. The sun was barely shining in through the blinds in Harry’s bedroom.

“Hm,” he hummed and tightened his grip a little. “Can’t sleep?”

“Just thinking. “

“About…?”

“Nothing really.”

Harry hummed again but didn’t say anything else. They laid in silence while Harry circled his thumb over her stomach lightly. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. Just the two of them, tangled in each other’s naked bodies and the sheets. She could feel a hangover coming over her slowly. Her head felt heavy and throbbed painfully against the soft pillows. There was a glass of water on the bedside table tempting her but reaching out for it meant moving away from Harry and she was just way too comfortable to do so.

It wasn’t long until Harry’s soft snores filled the room again and his thumb stilled. She sighed deeply, sleep creeping over her too. They were friends. Friends that slept together and cuddled. Nothing else. Just friends.

… but she really could stay like this forever.

-

The next time she woke up Harry wasn’t next to her anymore and the room was a lot brighter. A weak whimper left her lips and she buried her face into the pillow; the sunlight too much for her sensitive eyes and raging headache, which only seemed to have gotten worse.

Blindly she reached out for the glass she’d spotted earlier, but instead of actually getting a hold of it it was knocked over. It landed on the floor with a soft thud and her eyes shot open at the sound. Glancing down she noticed that, thankfully, the glass hadn’t broken into a million pieces, but unfortunately there was water everywhere.

“Damn it,” she muttered and fell back, hiding her face in the pillow again. Stupid water. Stupid hangover. Stupid everything.

Her head was spinning and her body ached. This hangover was going to be rough and she cursed herself for letting Jax and Beth persuade her into taking all those shots the night before. She knew it was going to come back and bite her in the ass today. Stupid Jax. Stupid Beth. Stupid shots.

Outside the bedroom she could hear Harry roaming around in the kitchen, talking to his flatmate Isaac and every now and then he’d sing along to the music playing softly in the background. She relaxed as she listened to his voice. At least there was something good about this morning.

And it was enough to eventually get her out of bed.

She found her black underwear at the bottom of the bed and pulled them on, stepping around the water she had just spilled as she got out and made a mental note to herself to fix that mess later.

The black strap dress and oversized blazer from the night before were stern across the floor and she stared at them for a long time before deciding she wasn’t in the mood to put them back on at this time. Looking around the room she spotted something very familiar. The yellow jumper she always wore when she slept over was hung neatly over Harry’s chair by the desk, waiting for her, and she smiled to herself knowing he’d put it there for her to wear.

Always so considerate.

“Jesus, you look like absolute shit,” Isaac teased when she eventually emerged from the bedroom and into the kitchen “Wild night?”

“Fuck off,” she groaned and walked straight past him and over to the sink to pour herself a glass of water, downing it in pretty much one gulp. It spilled down her chin and onto the jumper, leaving a big wet stain, but she really couldn’t care less. Water had never tasted better.

“Ah, I’m just saying,” Isaac laughed. “You look like you got run over by a truck.”

“Feels like I was,” she admitted and slumped down on one of the chairs next to the kitchen counter. “Ugh, I’m never drinking again.”

“Ha! Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”

The kitchen was surprisingly cold and she regretted not stealing a pair of Harry’s sweatpants before leaving his warm comfy bedroom. She let her eyes wander over to him and felt her pulse pick up. Harry was standing shirtless in the kitchen, only dressed in his regular Nike sports shorts, and she just couldn’t stop herself from staring at his tattoos and toned chest. The same chest she’d left kisses all over just hours ago and it gave her goosebumps just thinking about. He had a spatula in one of his hands and a cup of coffee in the other. As always, he was perfect and she looked like a mess. Great.

Harry smirked as he caught her staring, but didn’t say anything about it.

“Do you want some breakfast?” he asked instead.

“Please.”

A minute later he placed a plate of eggs and some toast in front of her. The smell of it made her nauseous but she also knew that if she didn’t eat anything she was going to feel a lot worse soon. She’d much rather crawl back into Harry’s bed and maybe sleep for another hour or two, preferably with him beside her.

But now she had a plate of food in front of her that Harry had made and it would be rude to at least not try to eat some. So she ate in silence while listening to Harry tell Isaac about the previous night and slowly she realized that she had a few blackouts from the night.

Shit, how much did I drink?

She really shouldn’t have taken those shots. Her mother would have lectured her for hours if she knew about the heavy party nights that sometimes occurred, having a strong belief alcohol was indeed a gift from the devil himself. Alcohol and sugar. She had lost count of the number of books her mother had given her about healthy living and mindful thinking, and she was pretty sure she was getting another one for Christmas. Harry once found her hidden stash of books she’d put in the back of her closet and begged her for one. She happily gave it to him.

Harry would probably love her mother’s rants about the dangers of alcohol and unhealthy meals she thought to herself and almost rolled her eyes. She could picture it now; Harry and her mother sharing recipes with each other that claimed your life would be twenty years longer and ganging up on her about the lack of exercise she did. What a nightmare.

Yet, she had to ignore the warm feeling in her belly at the thought of Harry getting along with her mother.

“Alright well,” Isaac announced after a while and stood up. “I gotta get to work. Fuckin’ Jake called in sick so now I gotta cover his shift at the shop.”

“Sucks mate,” Harry replied while he shoved the last piece of his toast into his mouth. “At least you’re getting some extra cash.”

“Yeah yeah, something like that,” Isaac muttered as he dropped his dirty plate into the sink. “I’ll see you guys later. Hope you feel better party girl!”

She shot him a weak smile and a nod as a thank you. Her plate of food was still half full and the cup of tea Harry had also made for her was now cold. She just couldn’t force herself to eat more. Stupid shots.

“You really do look like you got run over by a truck,” Harry chuckled when Isaac was gone and she sent him a glare. “How much did you drink? Didn’t realize you were that drunk when we left.”

“I actually have no idea. I think Jax and Beth might have poisoned me.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “That explains it.”

“Mm.“

“Can I get you anything else?”

“No, that’s okay” she told him. “Kinda just wanna go back to bed if I’m honest.”

“‘S your lucky day then,” Harry said and rose to his feet, offering his hand out to her. “Let’s go.”

She could have cried out of happiness when she finally crawled back into Harry’s comfortable bed. The sheets had never been more comforting as she pulled them up to her chin and made herself into a little cocoon. She never wanted to leave his bed ever again. “You are ridiculous.”

She peeked out at him from under the duvet and noticed him smiling down at her fondly, but his smile soon turned into a small frown. “Is that water all over the floor?”

“Oh yeah... that was me. Sorry,” she pouted.

“I repeat, you are ridiculous,” he rolled his eyes but she also knew he wasn’t upset when she noticed his little dimple.

He quickly cleaned up the mess she had created earlier and then jumped up to join her. The bed shook as he landed and she groaned as another wave of nausea washed over her. But having him next to her again made her forget all about it. He smelled so good. How did he always smell so good?

She rested her head on his shoulder as he pulled up his laptop and signed onto his Netflix account, picking the first random movie that caught his interest.

And that’s how the two of them spent the next few hours. Just laying in bed together watching random movies on Netflix with her dozing in and out of sleep for most of the time. Harry kept running his fingers through her hair, gently scratching the top of her head and it was probably the most soothing thing she had ever experienced.

Eventually, she started feeling better but made no effort to move or get up.

Not until he did.

“I’m gonna take a shower quickly,” he announced as the third movie finished. She followed him with her gaze as he got up and pulled out a pair of fresh boxers out of his drawer. Her heart beat a little extra. “You can watch something else if you want.”

“Thanks. Are you doing something later or?” she asked casually and pulled his computer onto her lap.

“Yeah, uh, I forgot I have a date actually.”

She’s pretty sure she forgot how to breathe then.

A date.

Harry had a date.

“Oh... “ is all she managed to say. Her mouth felt as dry as it did when she woke up earlier that morning and she racked her brain for something else to say. Unfortunately there was nothing. Harry stopped and looked at her.

“Is - I mean...  um, is that okay?”

“What?”

She felt stupid. So utterly stupid but she just couldn’t find the words to speak. She felt weird, even though she knew he was technically only her friend and she knew they were not even close to being exclusive. But Harry was going on a date. Like a proper date. Not just hooking up after a night out. A date. With someone else.

“Are you okay with me going on a date... ?” he asked slowly, inspecting her closely and that’s when she realized she needed to say something fast.

“Yeah, no, of course!” she tried to laugh but it was more of a strange cackle coming out of her mouth rather than a laugh. Harry eyed her for another minute and she sat up. Her palms were sweaty and her cheeks hot. She felt like a bigger mess now than she had all morning. “Harry, we’re friends. Why would I care if you go on a date?”

Harry looked at her a bit startled.

“Well, because we-”

“I’m fine,” she interrupted before he could finish and cursed herself yet again for being so fucking weird. They were friends. She had no reason to not be okay with it. She knew she wasn’t his type. Of course he was going on a date with someone else. She knew this and she needed to get herself together before he wanted to talk about something related to the two of them and make things complicated. The thing between them wasn’t something they ever talked about and she refused to start doing it now. “I’m excited for you even,” she shot him the biggest fake smile she could muster. “Who is she?”

What a stupid question.

“Uh, a friend of Matt’s or something like that,” he shrugged, but he looked at her with uncertainty written all across his face; almost like he didn’t believe a single word she was saying.  “I don’t know really. He set us up.”

“Cool.”

“Cool... ?”

Suddenly she doesn’t want to be in his bed anymore. For the very first time, she felt awkward sitting in front of him.

“Yeah, cool.”

“Oookay.”

Silence.

It’s uncomfortable and she knew she messed this up. Both of them were frozen in place and she had to look away from him before it was all too much. She was so aware of how her cheeks had turned into a deep color of red and she felt nauseous, only this time she knew it was not from the alcohol.

“I’m just,” Harry coughed in an attempt to break the heavy tension and she wanted nothing more than to disappear.  “I’m gonna go take that shower.” He pointed awkwardly towards the door.

“Yeah, uh,” she said and tried her absolute hardest to get herself back together. To act normal. “I’m going to head home anyways I think.”

“No, you don’t-”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted him again. “Beth wanted to have pizza night and I should stop being such a lazy ass anyways. I have some studying to do before my lecture tomorrow too, soo... yeah, gonna head home.”

Harry looked at her for a moment, scanning her face after any other sign that something was wrong, but she managed to keep it together and he nodded.

“Alright, well I’ll see you around yeah?”

“Of course.”

When he left the room she let out a breath she’d been holding ever since Harry first mentioned the word ‘date’. She also realized she did not like the way she just reacted and that maybe, very possibly, Lou might have been right.

She was fucked.

-

For the next few days she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry and his date. She wished she could go back in time and take back everything she said; wished she would have reacted differently. It was hard to think about anything else and all she wanted to do was to go and see him and ask him all about it. How did it go? Was she nice? What did they do? Was he going to see her again? Did they kiss?

And if she hadn’t been so embarrassed about her behaviour she probably would've done so, but she had no explanation as to why she’d been so weird and she was too scared to go deeper into her own feelings and find one. So as much as she wanted to see him she was also extremely terrified to do so.

But it was really eating her up.

She couldn’t focus on anything else.

And it was strange.

Before all this, she was sure of her feelings towards Harry. Sure he was attractive, he was nice and he made her laugh, but she thought she’d managed to keep it platonic. Now she just felt weird. Everything about their arrangement felt weird, and she didn’t know what to do. Deep down she knew there wasn’t much she could actually do about it. He went on a date and she was his friend. Friends with benefits. They weren’t anything exclusive. He hadn’t done anything wrong. She told him so herself.

Still, something felt wrong.

On Thursday night their whole gang made plans to meet up for their regular quiz night down at the pub and she stood in front of her mirror for an hour, preparing herself to see him again. She changed her outfit five times and rehearsed what to say when she saw him over and over again.

Only for him to not show up.

So instead of being squished into his side all night, she was stuck between Jax and Louisa and she found herself missing him. She didn’t even have to ask to know he was on another date, yet when Isaac confirmed it later she felt her heart drop down to her stomach.

Louisa glanced over at her when Isaac told them and she forced a smile, not ready to let anyone know about the weird feeling in her chest. Louisa also tried to bring it up on their way home, but she brushed it off with the same thing she always did.

“We’re just friends.”

But once she was home in bed it was harder to act like nothing was troubling her. Harry was out on another date and it shouldn’t be bothering her but it did. It bothered her a lot. He should’ve been right there with her, laughing along at their friends' jokes all night and then suggest coming back home with her.

Now he just wasn't and it felt wrong. It was only three months ago that he came home with her for the first time but somehow it wasn’t until now she realized that she may have gotten a little too used to it.

It was so stupid the whole thing. Like ridiculously so.

She knew from the first night that she would never be more than a few drunken nights to him. That his touch wasn’t hers to keep. It belonged to someone else. So why did it feel so weird now?

On Friday night, Beth invited a few people over from uni to their place for a game night and some wine. She joined them but decided to stay away from the wine. They played monopoly for most of the evening while gossiping about everyone they knew. It was nice. It was fun. She won at monopoly. But most importantly it helped her to not worry about what Harry was doing or who he was seeing. It felt like her brain got a long awaited break from everything and she slept better that night than she had all week.

It was on Saturday it all came crashing down.

They were all going out. The whole gang. As always everyone had shown up for pre-drinks at the house she shared with Louisa, Beth and Aliyah as it was the biggest one. Jax had as usual brought along a bottle of Fireball that he forced everyone take a shot out of. Beth refused to let anyone else control the music. Tom and Louisa were loved up on the sofa together. Isaac was in the kitchen mixing drinks for everyone while Aliyah complained about Beth’s choice of music. All in all it was a pretty typical Saturday night and it was all going well.

Until Harry showed up. With a girl.

She almost dropped her drink when she saw them and everyone in the room turned to look at her when they entered. Once again she had to force a smile to assure them she didn't care and more than ever before she tried to ignore the way her heart sank inside her chest.

And for some very odd reason; she was the first to stand up and greet Harry’s new lady friend. Maybe because everyone was looking at her and it felt like they were just waiting for her to start crying in front of everyone. She didn’t want their pity so she stood and shook this new girl’s hand, acting like everything was completely fine.

“Cleo,” the girl introduced herself with a cheery smile.

And that was about it.

After that she didn’t really talk to her anymore. That’s something she left for the rest of the group to do.

It was hard to concentrate on anything else for the rest of the evening and despite promising herself to not take a shot from Jax’s bottle of Fireball; she had three. The alcohol was warm as it made its way down her throat and she noticed Louisa watching her with worried eyes.

And Harry? She couldn’t even look at him. He tried to talk to her and start a conversation at one point but it felt like her brain was about to explode from anxiety so she quickly excused herself and hid in the bathroom for a good twenty minutes.

She tried her very best to be engaged in the conversations around her and she tried so hard to have a good time. Just like she had the night before. But with Harry right there with Cleo it was fucking impossible and she felt like a green little goblin watching the new pair.

Cleo was pretty much everything she expected her to be and more. She just couldn’t stop staring at them. Harry had a hand on her thigh and she was so polite to everyone. Just like him. She had tasteful tattoos all over and it was almost like the two of them had coordinated their outfits before coming over. Both dressed in checkered prints and matching colors of pink and red. She felt so stupid in her boring and basic black jumpsuit and her dull eye make-up.

Cleo was so effortlessly pretty and she just wasn’t.

It was a slap in the face just how right they looked together.

And it just got worse when they arrived at the club because under the flashing lights on the dance floor she saw how Harry leaned in and kissed Cleo. One of his hands was low on her back while the other caressed her face. Everything was spinning as she watched them kiss she knew it was not only because of the alcohol in her veins.

It hit her hard. Because a small, a very small, and naive part of her thought that maybe he’d still want to go home with her and not Cleo. But as she watched him kiss Cleo the way he used to kiss her ruined all hope she had ridiculously built up.

And maybe it wasn’t the kiss itself that hurt so much but more the fact that Harry was now with someone else and it was real. It was so bloody real.  Just last week it was her and now he was kissing Cleo and had barely looked in her direction all night. And even though he technically hadn’t done anything wrong it still hurt and she was angry. Angry with him for kissing someone else, but mostly at herself for still wanting him. For wanting to walk right up and pull him away and take him home. She still wanted him despite everything, but she couldn’t have him.

So instead she had some tequila.

Except, tequila probably wasn’t the best company because in the wee hours of the night she regretted every single shot she had taken. The alcohol in her body made her stomach turn heavily and it was a miracle she even made it into a bathroom stall before it all came back up. Someone on the other side of the stall asked if she was okay but she could barely hear them over the loud buzzing in her ears and her own gagging.

It took her several minutes before she found the strength to get back up on her feet, brushing away the dirt from her jumpsuit, trying desperately not to think about all the germs she had most likely caught from resting so long against a public toilet seat.

As she exited the stall another girl looked over and she didn’t even try to pretend like she hadn’t just been throwing her guts up minutes ago. Instead, she splashed some cold water on her face and took a steady grip of the sink to keep herself standing up.

Fuck.

When she stumbled out of the bathroom a while later she had to lean against the walls to not fall over. The dim lighting in the club made it even harder for her to see where she was going and she kept bumping into bodies as she eventually made her way through the crowd.

Then all of a sudden someone grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Heeeey, party-girl, are you okay?”

The buzzing was still loud in her ears and her vision was blurry, but she still somehow managed to recognize the voice and the striking blonde hair. Isaac. As soon as she knew it wasn’t a complete stranger that had grabbed her she fell into him without a warning and he stumbled a little as he tried to catch her body. “Woah, steady on.”

She tried to talk to him. Tried to explain how she got to this point but no coherent words were coming out of her mouth and she had to use his whole body for support. He wrapped an arm around her and hoisted her up a little before taking a hold of her chin so he could get a good look of her face. She could tell that he was talking to her, his mouth was moving, but she had no idea what he was actually saying. It was too loud and she was too drunk. The club atmosphere made her stomach turn once more and all she wanted to do was to get out of there before she was sick all over again.

And somehow she managed to communicate that to Isaac.

The air was cool and refreshing when they finally made it out of the club and she was clinging onto Isaac as if her life depended on him. He had a strong arm wrapped around her as he pulled out his phone with his other hand to get an Uber. As they waited for it to show up Isaac slowly guided her over and sat her down on the curb next to the road. He crouched down in front of her and took a hold of her chin again. That’s when the first tears fell. She didn’t even try to hide it, once again too drunk and too sad to care if Isaac saw that she was crying.  His eyes widened as he noticed.

“Heey, noooo, no, don’t cry. What’s wrong?”

She didn’t know what to tell him. Everything was spinning too much to be able to think of what to say. The alcohol and emotions had taken over all of her senses and it was all just too much. There was only one explanation for her behavior tonight after all and how would she even begin to explain it to him? She had no idea. So all she said was

“Cleo.”

Isaac didn’t say anything in response but she was pretty sure he knew exactly what it meant when he reached out and squeezed her shoulder. Nothing more was said as they waited for the Uber to show up and the last thing she remembered was crying about not having the key for her house.

-

The next morning was arguably the worst morning of her life, which seemed quite fitting as she’d had the worst evening of her life the previous night. Most of the morning was spent on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, head first down the toilet, regretting every single decision from last night.

This time though it was all her own fault. There was no one else to blame for all the shots she downed but herself.

It was embarrassing. So so embarrassing how drunk she got and how much Isaac had to take care of her. He had brought her back to his and Harry’s shared flat after they couldn’t find her key and realized she was locked out from her own home. She cried her eyes out in the Uber while Isaac tried to comfort her and when they got out she almost got vomit all over his new sneakers.

However, Isaac was nice about it all. He didn’t say anything and just helped her inside, put her down on the sofa, made sure she drank some water and covered her with a blanket. She couldn’t remember exactly what she told him but she knew she had talked about Harry and it was killing her.

But Isaac continued to be nice and he didn’t bring it up when he wandered in and said good morning.

“Y’alright?”

“I feel like death,” she confessed and her throat hurt a little from being sick all last night and earlier that morning.  Isaac chuckled lightly.

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

She bit the bottom of her lip and struggled to look at him where he sat on the armchair opposite the sofa she was spread out over. She had known him for as long as she had known Harry, but she had never actually been alone with him in a room and now when she was sober she felt so stupid, and also so incredibly self-conscious because she knew her make-up from last night was smudged all over her face and she had vomit on her jumpsuit and all over her hair. It was the lowest she’d ever been.

“So um,” she grumbled. “Thanks for last night, eh... yeah, I don’t know. I’m sorry for being a mess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Isaac waved it off and smiled at her. “We’ve all been there.”

“Yeah, well, thank you anyway.” She still couldn’t look at him as she spoke. Because he knew. He knew her feelings for Harry had changed and she didn’t know how to act now.

“So much for never drinking again huh?” he joked lightly to ease the mood and she forced a laugh.

“Yeah, didn’t stick to that one, did I?”

Silence fell between them after that, but in some ways, it was a comfortable one. Isaac sat in his chair and scrolled through his phone as he drank his morning coffee while she just laid on the sofa and tried to collect her mind and emotions. He offered to make breakfast but there was just no way she was going to be able to stomach it. Water was pretty much all that her stomach allowed and she was barely holding onto that. It was early still and she could tell it was raining heavily outside as the raindrops drummed heavily against the windows. It was comfortable though. Pleasant even.

And then, out of nowhere, Cleo emerged from Harry’s bedroom and all the emotions from last night washed over her like a tsunami.

Plus, it felt like someone was playing a practical joke on her when she saw that Cleo was wearing Harry’s shirt from the night before.

“Good morning!” Cleo was as cheery as she was last night and looked even better. Issac nodded and greeted Cleo politely. To make things worse Cleo sat down in the other armchair and started a conversation. Time stopped as she watched Cleo and Isaac talk and it felt like someone suffocated her with one of the pillows. “Did you guys have a good night then?”

She couldn’t take her eyes off Cleo, who looked perfect even after a night out. Her hair was still flawless and her skin looked like it was glowing. It wasn’t ideal for anyone to see or be next to Cleo when they woke up after a chaotic night out and they themselves were covered in vomit. It honestly made her more nauseous than her hangover had all morning and she’d probably never felt as ugly as she did in that moment laying next to Cleo.

“It was decent, yeah,” Isaac said and then looked at her. His eyes filled with pity and she hated it. She hated it so much. “You?”

“It was super fun,” Cleo answered with a big smile. “Harry and I got in sooooo late though. We stopped to get some food down at that kebab place around the corner before we got in and I swear to God it was the best food I’ve had in my life! Thanks for letting me come out with you guys.”

And just like that, it was all too much. There was just no way she could sit there and talk to the girl who was dating the boy she had come to realize she liked more than just a friend. There was a lot she could do and put up with, but that wasn’t one of those things.

“Um, excuse me,” she mumbled as she got up from the sofa. Isaac called out her name but she ignored it. Her whole body ached and her head felt heavy. She had no idea how she was actually going to make it home in this state but she’d try her damn hardest, even if she was sick along the way it would be better than staying here.

Then she heard her name being called again.  

This time however it was from someone else.

Someone whose voice she’d recognize anywhere.

Harry.

“What are you doing here?” He looked at her with furrowed brows, clearly not expecting to see her.

“Oh, eh, hey,” she managed to croak out and fought back the urge to be sick all over again. “I came back with Isaac last night.”

“You uh, you came back with Isaac?” Harry asked slowly, his eyes never leaving her as a small line formed between his brows. He opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it just as fast. The silence that fell between them then was defeating.

“I mean, I wasn’t feeling very well so he helped me out a little.”

“Oh, okay,” he nodded and the corner of his mouth twisted into a small smile, but then it faltered just as fast. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.”  She knew she was being short with him and the look he gave her burned into her skin, but with tears threatening to fall at any moment it was a conversation she really didn’t want to have. Not with him. Not right now. “Look, Harry, I gotta go.”

“What?” he said and pushed himself off the door frame he leaned against, and as he came closer she took a step back. “You’re more than welcome to stay. It’s so early still and by the sounds of it it’s bucketing down outside. Stay for some breakfast. I was gonna make some pancakes.”

“I have to go.”

“Wait,” he called after her when she turned her back to him and got ready to leave. “Hey, wait a minute!”

She didn’t really care at that point though. Whatever thing she and Harry had was already gone and there was nothing that could make things worse than what they were now. She just wanted to get out and get as far away from him as fast as possible.

So she left without saying another word to Harry despite him calling her name.

- “Harry’s a fucking prick anyways,” Aliyah began and threw her hands up dramatically. “Like, is he just going to sleep with you one week and then replace you next week? No, fuck that. You deserve better.”

“He did tell me about it though,” she noted with a small sniffle and curled up further under her blanket. “I mean, he did tell me he was going on a date so it’s not like he lied or I don’t know... went behind my back.”

“Yeah, well, he’s still a prick,” Aliyah grumbled and slumped back against the sofa, arms crossed over her chest.

“Besides, we’re just friends, you know... ”

“You’re clearly more than just friends though,” Louisa added carefully with knowing eyes. “Like, I hate to break it to you but it’s pretty obvious you like him.”

“I... “ she trailed off not knowing how to respond to that. Because she knew she couldn’t keep denying it anymore. Not after showing up at her own house, drenched from the rain with red puffy eyes in last night’s clothes and without a key. No matter how scary it was to admit what she had buried inside her heart for so long it was impossible to deny it any longer. “Yeah. I do. I do like him.”

She let out a huge breath as she finally admitted it. It was strange, but also so right. The feelings she had for Harry was something she had buried inside for so long and it was freeing almost to now admit it out loud in front of her best friends.

“Maybe you should tell him that?” Beth suggested.

She almost laughed.

“That’s definitely not happening,” she shut down the suggestion straight away. There was no way she was telling him how she felt. Especially not now. “He obviously doesn't like me back, and besides he has Cleo now, and you know.. he’s like actually dating her and stuff so…”

“So what?” Beth cut in. “He might like you too. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Me?” she scoffed. “Yeah, I highly doubt that.”

Beth shrugged.

“I don’t know. I think he might do.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter anymore does it? He has Cleo now.”

“You won’t know unless you ask,” Louisa pointed out with a small twinkle in her eyes. Before she had the chance to object to the faulty statement the sound of the doorbell ringing echoed through the house.

“That’s probably the food,” Beth announced and stood up swiftly. “I’ll go get it.”

She gave Beth a small smile and wiped her wet cheeks with the ends of her blanket. As soon as she had left Harry’s flat earlier that morning she broke down in tears and called Louisa who offered to come to pick her up straight away but she declined, needing some time for herself before facing anyone.

But after showing up a mess, drenched from the rain in last night’s clothes after walking all the way home it was clear that she needed all her friends today. So Aliyah ran her a bath while Beth ordered food and Louisa went out for snacks and her favorite drink.

And she couldn’t be more grateful.

“Uhm,” Beth popped her head back in the living room and it was obvious by the look on Beth’s face that something was off. “It’s Harry.”

“W-what?”

For a moment she thought that maybe Beth was just taking the piss but judging by the confusion spreading across the room she quickly realized that wasn’t the case. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

“You sure?” Louisa asked. “This might be the perfect opportunity to talk things through.”

“No,” she shook her head quickly. “I can’t. Not now.”

“I’ll go talk to him!” Aliyah announced with fire in her eyes and leaped off the sofa in one go, only to have Beth stop her in the doorway.

“I think maybe I should talk to him,” she offered and looked at Aliyah with both her eyebrows raised knowingly. Aliyah only mumbled something under her breath but accepted Beth’s proposal and returned to her spot on the sofa without a fuss.

“You okay?” Louisa asked when Beth disappeared again to go talk to the boy who had her heart aching so badly. Louisa reached out to squeeze her knee gently when she didn’t respond. She just didn't know what to say; because she wasn’t okay. She was very much far from okay today.

Tears welled up in her eyes for the hundredth time and she shook her head and attempted to blink her tears away. She didn’t want to cry anymore. Louisa sighed and pulled her closer and wrapped her arms around her in a long hug. It was embarrassing really how much she had cried all day but she just couldn't stop. Never in a million years did she think she’d ever get so upset over a guy.

But it was Harry.

Harry who left jumpers out for her to wear after she stayed at his flat. Harry who made her breakfast in the morning and knew exactly how she liked her tea. Harry who made her laugh until she couldn’t breathe anymore. Harry who rubbed her back after a night out. Harry who let her steal all of the duvet in her sleep even though he was cold too. Harry who texted her stupid jokes just because he knew she liked them. Harry who also texted her cute pictures of puppies because she loved dogs. Harry who made her feel like no man ever had.

Harry who was now with Cleo.

Cleo who was absolutely perfect for him. Cleo who probably went thrift shopping with him and helped him find silly shirts with crazy prints and knew about all the bands he always talked about.

Cleo who was just so much better than her.

-

Harry Styles 8:27 AM Heeeyyy are you mad at me?

Harry Styles 10:12 AM Hello?

Harry Styles 10:46 AM Ok so mad then? will you pls talk to me? don’t like the way you stormed off earlier :/

Harry Styles 12:01 PM Hellloooooooo? pls talk to me

Harry Styles 12:30 PM Isaac told me you were quite upset last night... did something happen?  

Harry Styles 12:56 PM You’re making me a bit worried, did you make it home okay?

Harry Styles 1:15 PM I tried calling a few times but it’s not really coming through.. Are you okay?

Harry Styles 2:49 PM I'm coming over

Harry Styles 4:37 PM Beth said you weren’t feeling so well,  I hope you feel better soon, make sure you drink loads of water! .xx

Harry Styles 11:26 PM Ok sooo, i dunno whats going on. i dunno if Beth lied to me today or not... i just hope you're okay. you know you can talk to me if something is bothering you right?

Goodnight .xxx

-

PART 2 ♡

Let me know your thoughts. Thank you for reading! <3